The next three days passed quickly, and Severus and Hermione found themselves falling into a comfortable pattern. They would awaken early, and sit in the drawing room to have a light breakfast. Severus had tried Monley's chocolate chip muffins when Hermione raved about them. He had even gone so far as to grudgingly admit they were decent, although Hermione thought that since he had eaten four of them, perhaps decent wasn't a strong enough word.
Mornings were spent together in the lab, working on various potions. Severus had taken over the Wolfsbane potion, when Hermione received an owl from a local vampire requesting 6 phials of her variation of the Cruor Victus potion. They would take a light lunch together in the lab, Severus using that time to ask basic questions and catch-up on the marriages and families of his old students. Hermione recognized that he limited himself to inquiring about Slytherins, and she took a small bit of delight every time she got to tell him one of his "prize" pupils had married a Gryffindor, or much to his dismay, sometimes even a Hufflepuff!
She left him to his own devices during the afternoons. Hermione would putter about her garden, weeding, pruning, and occasionally harvesting an herb or two. Severus would putter about the lab, working on the infirmary potions and Lupin's Wolfsbane. The evenings would find them conversing about their respective apprenticeships over dinner, upstairs in their cozy dining room.
Severus had been a little shocked that Druizlen had taken Hermione on as an apprentice. Not that he didn't think she was smart enough, oh no, even he could admit to himself that the term know-it-all wasn't just sarcasm when applied to his new wife. But Michael Druizlen was normally a recluse, and had never in Severus' memory taken an apprentice, much less one from Europe, and as young as Hermione had been.
Their conversations lasted through nightfall, Hermione usually tiring first, and always making her gracious excuses as she would head off to her bedroom. She had taken to curling up in her chair, stacks of potions journals around her, while Severus sat on the settee near her, sharing the end table for their evening tea (or hot chocolate, as Hermione was so inclined to drink upon occasion). Most of their discussions centered around potions work, but Severus would find his thoughts wandering to what Hermione's room actually looked like (damn Gryffindor colors, more than likely) and why she never managed to be wearing shoes when he saw her (she was either barefoot or in those hideous pink hairy things).
It was during one of those wanderings that he found himself asking about the anklet on her left foot (and was rapidly embarrassed to have asked her a personal question at all).
"Oh, that? It was a gift from Michael when I was awarded my mastery status," a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.
"A silver anklet with a charm? Jewelry is a very intimate gift. Hardly befitting from a master to his apprentice." replied Severus, not even sure why he was being so, well, Snapish.
In a rush to explain herself (now there's the Hermione we all know from Hogwarts) she raised her leg up, propping her foot on the arm of the settee. She flipped the charm around, laying it on the top of her foot, so he could read the engraving. As he read it out loud, Hermione realized that might not have been the best course of action.
"You give me hope, and hope it gives me life. You touch my heavy heart, and when you do you make it light. Of course, that is so much more appropriate than I originally thought. Exactly what a man should be saying to his subordinate."
"Um, it's not what it looks like," she said, pulling her foot away, yanking the small silver square out of his hand before he could read the reverse. Her confusion and frustration was only made more complex by the slight shudder she felt when his hand had lightly brushed her foot.
"Please, do explain, Lady Snape." Severus said, waving his hand about, as he tried to identify the slight anger that was rising in his chest.
"It's from a muggle song we listened to. A song that was very important to me. It was a personal message that meant something to me, there was nothing between us."
"Two years you spent with this brilliant wizard, two years working with him daily in his potions lab. Learning from him, taking meals with him, traveling with him. And there was nothing between you at all?"
"Nothing," she said, her voice turning icy. "Master Michael Druizlen is happily married, I don't sleep with people to get what I want," she said as she rose from her chair, her hands on her hips. "And jealously doesn't become you."
"I'm not jealous!" he barked to her retreating form, as she slipped into her bedroom. "I am NOT jealous," he repeated again to Sebastian, who had crawled up on the settee beside him, staring hard at the man who had upset his human. "Propriety, that's all I care about, I'm not jealous."
Sebastian twitched his ears and hopped to the floor, heading to Severus' bedroom. Grunting, Severus followed, muttering about jealousy under his breath.
The next morning Severus managed to wake up before Hermione, and was dressed and in the drawing room when he heard her stir. Her door cracked open just wide enough for Sebastian to enter, as he was butting his head against it in angst.
Monly had just brought the breakfast tray in, almond croissants and coffee, when she made her appearance in the drawing room. Severus poured himself a cup, and turned the handle towards Hermione when he set the carafe back down on the tray. Nodding, but not speaking, she secured herself her morning caffeine fix. In silence they ate their morning repast and proceeded to the lab. Their actions mirrored the prior days, but there was a tension between them.
The third time she had to dispose of the longried root that she had mangled instead of precisely chopping, Severus decided he had had enough.
"You can open the bag, if you wish. I'll attempt to work with it on."
"Really? You don't mind?" Her eyes lighting up, for the first time since the evening before.
"Have no doubt, I will suffer, but better I than that poor root you've contorted and massacred beyond use."
Waving her wand and murmuring under her breathe, the small velvet bag tipped upright and the drawstring opened. She then turned to Severus.
"Say – Open Music – please."
"Why?"
"Please."
"Fine, Open Music."
"Good! Now it is attuned to your voice also. Open music will open the pouch, close music will close the pouch. You can request specific songs just by stating the title."
If she hadn't been staring at him she would have missed the very slight nod of his head that showed he had heard her.
"Random," Hermione stated firmly, and the pouch began playing a loud muggle song. Hermione's feet began dancing under her, while her hands seemed to steady as she prepared potions ingredients.
Dreadful fuzz on her feet. What self-respecting potions mistress wears fuzz in the lab?
The rest of the day passed with some degree of normalcy, if this whole marriage could even be considered normal. Severus was a little pleased to discover that in the mix of all the horrid muggle pop music (pop? stupid name), along with the horrid muggle country music (that Hermione said had to do with cowboys), along with the horrid muggle alternative music (alternative to what, he couldn't decipher), there was Beethoven and Mozart.
The afternoon and evening were spent in their divergent pursuits. Monly had prepared a beef tenderloin with shallots and a red wine glaze that both Severus and Hermione found to be exquisite. The conversation was the most relaxed it had ever been, with Hermione standing up for her convictions and Severus found he took pleasure in the strong debate. Her intelligence was well matched with her quick wit, and she had almost converted him on a few points.
He felt the same twinge of disappointment when she rose from her chair and bade him goodnight. He watched her retreating figure as she made her way to her bedroom, Sebastian winding his way through her feet, causing her reach down and scoop him up. He watched as she buried her face into her Kneazle's fur, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. From his place on the settee, though, Severus still couldn't see into the room. Squashing the odd feeling in his chest, he stood and made his way to his own bedroom, as Eakey popped in to clean the piles of journals scattered across the floor.
The next morning began as usual. Severus awoke (on his own, mind you – he was trying to cut back on the harpy Hermione encounters) and took a relaxing shower before dressing in his impeccable black robes. He idly made note of the fact that he would need to speak to Hermione about clothes shopping. Perhaps he could have – what was that man's name, right, Mr. Thippet – the tailor the Malfoys always used, come out and do a fitting. Maybe he might even splurge and purchase a single deep forest green shirt to wear under his robes, that should bring a whole new dimension to his psychological torture of the Hogwarts Students. Professor Snape – wearing a color!
Professor Snape – now there would be two! How in heaven's name was he going to deal with her once they were back at Hogwarts? Sharing quarters? Did she plan on forcing him to move out of his dungeons?
He sank back down onto his bed, head in his hands, so much they hadn't talked about. The past week had been nothing short of amazing. He was a free man, almost, the dark mark still scarred his skin, but the pain was gone. So much of his pain was gone. Because of the witch in the next room. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed he would have found a bride.
Oh, years ago, when he was a young man, he always assumed that someday, if the Dark Lord found him worthy, he might be allowed the affections of a fellow Deatheater, or perhaps the daughter of one of the older men. When he turned against Voldemort, and became a spy, loving was an extracurricular activity that he had neither the time to pursue, nor the practice in to succeed. Besides, even if he was going to risk himself, he wasn't going to risk anyone else's life.
Then after the war, he found himself on the run. Always in hiding, squeaking out an existence by the skin of his rather yellow teeth. Dumbledore's prophecy promise seemed so far away. He was almost glad when he was caught, even if it meant Azkaban. He could handle prison, hell, he'd been living in a mental prison of his own making since the day he killed the only person he had ever loved. Then, he with all his sins, his transgressions towards everyone – dark and light side both – someone came forward of their own accord to redeem him.
Just his actions towards her alone would make a better man weep. For six years he had caused nothing but pain for her and her best friends. He had belittled her and never bestowed upon her the praise that she had so richly deserved. Yet, still, she came for him. Potter may have been the Savior of the Wizarding world, but she was the Savior of him.
To save a world, one must care about saving oneself – individuals are irrelevant. To save a single soul, one must care about that soul – and revere that individual.
If he had been forced to choose the one woman on the face of the earth that would be a suitable bride, he would have chosen the woman in the next room. Now, there she was. Brilliant, beautiful enough to make his heart race, and willing. Bloody hell! She was willing…willing to what? Willing to marry him, yes. And she had touched him. Could he possibly have been given the one gift he so desired? A normal life. A wife. His dream teaching job, and still the ability to work with his beloved potions. Perhaps, he might even grow to love her, and just maybe, someday, she could love him.
His cynical nature attempted to rear its ugly head at the last thought. Love was for the stupid, the free, and for Hufflepuffs. The small part of him – commonly called hope in the real world – strained to make its voice heard. He was free.
Oh, bloody hell. This much thinking made his head hurt.
Severus made his way to the drawing room and was pleased to see breakfast was already set out, and the latest potions journal was laying on the settee. He lost himself in his morning reading, sipping his coffee.
Quite a while later, as he put the journal aside, he realized Hermione wasn't awake yet. A quick glance at the clock clarified for him that it was 9:30 in the morning, almost two and a half hours after when she had been joining him for breakfast. That started him pacing.
What was wrong? Was she sick? Hurt? Did she finally realize exactly what she had gotten herself into – today did seem the morning for self-realization.
Panicking, he called for Eakey.
"What can Eakey do for master? More coffee? Raspberry scone?" Eakey asked, his ears twitching.
"Check on Lady Snape, now."
Eakey's eyes grew very wide.
"Oh, Master, please, Eakey is not allowed to wake Mistress today, please," he cried, cowering.
"Not today?" asked a very puzzled Severus. "What is so special about today?"
"It's Sunday," came Hermione's voice from the bedroom doorway. Severus turned to see her closing the door behind her, a coffee mug already in her hand, and Sebastian making a leap onto Hermione's armchair.
"And?" questioned Severus.
"Even I need a day of rest," she replied. He watched as she crossed in front of her chair, scratching Sebastian on the head instead of removing him, and then sitting on the settee. "Sunday I normally sleep late, because I have lunch with Ginny and just generally stay away from the lab. It helps me keep my mind clear."
"Oh, well then." Severus stood uncomfortably in front of the fireplace. Was he supposed to sit down next to her? Or take the other armchair? And what on earth was she wearing?
Oops, that last thought was apparently said out loud…
"It's just a shirt and shorts, I realize you aren't comfortable with muggle clothes, but I always wear pants to protect my skin when I'm in the lab or outside working, so on Sundays I enjoy shorts." Hermione smoothed down her black tee shirt, and Severus could finally read the writing – Blondes are hot, Brunettes are Hotter. The realization that he was staring at her chest caused him to avert his eyes.
"When you're done staring at the ceiling, feel free to have a seat." She patted the settee next to her. She had curled her legs up under her, effectively hiding the charm that set Severus off the last time. Reluctantly, he sat down beside her.
"Eakey, I'm ready for my muffins now, please." Her chocolate chip muffins appeared quickly, and she broke one in half, nibbling the edges. "Ginny should be here within the hour. We'll head out to the terrace, and take lunch there. You are welcome to join us if you wish."
"How is Draco allowing Lady Malfoy to leave her home? Shouldn't you be visiting her?"
"That's just the problem, Draco doesn't let Ginny go anywhere but here and to the Burrow. Coming to Snape Manor is her only chance to get out; Lord knows Molly smothers her at home. I mean, he really is a bit overprotective."
"She's carrying his heir," Severus said stiffly, as if that explained it all.
"And?" questioned Hermione. "When I'm pregnant you're going to make me sit at home all day, doing nothing?"
Pregnant, Hermione pregnant, that meant sex, sex with Hermione, oh heavens, she's thought about sex with you, OH MERLIN now you're thinking about sex with her! Say something Severus!
Damn it, his eyes are glazing over, now you've scared him! Children? Who ever said he wanted children? Who ever said he wanted to sleep with you? Damn it, damn it, damn it, Hermione! Why couldn't you just give him more time? Say something, Hermione!
They would both thank Eakey later for choosing that moment to appear.
"Mistress? Lady Red-Head has arrived."
"Oh, she's early, I'll go greet her," Hermione said, her words rushing out. She stumbled a bit as she was standing, her right hand flying out and grasping Severus' thigh when she tried to regain her balance. Freezing, he could see the blush creep up the back of her neck, she had her hair pulled into a high ponytail. It was in that position that Ginny found them.
"Mione?" Ginny said, huffing out of breath from climbing the stairs. "Ready?" She blinked twice at the scene in front of her. A grin spread across her face as Hermione seemed to snap back to reality and hurry towards her.
"Of course I'm ready. Get the bag, please." She answered, smoothing down her shorts.
"Accio Ginny's Music," cast Ginny, waving her wand. A small red velvet bag, identical to the one kept in the lab, flew off the mantelpiece and into her outstretched hand. "Bye Severus, hope you join us for lunch," she called out behind her, as Hermione took her hand and dragged her back out into the hallway.
Severus sat on the sofa for a while, attempting to pull himself together, before heading down to the safety of the lab.
A/N: To my dear reviewers - Minerva explains a bit in Chapter One, even though Severus worked for the Order of Phoneix and was a spy against Voldemort, he is still considered an ex-Deatheater. Frankly, he's not a well liked man, and sometimes even the "good" side can hold grudges. Someone was hoping for an easy target - if they couldn't put Snape away, they could strip him of everything. That someone didn't count on Hermione.
(The charm bracelet's verse is from Relient K: When I Go Down, mmHmm CD/2004)