Chapter Thirty-Nine

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Rain poured down outside the carriage as it wound up the drive to Hogwarts. Hermione squinted through the fogged window at the thestrals tossing droplets from their heads, their breath rising in puffs. It was the first time she had taken the carriage alone.

The carriages bumped through the iron gates and rattled to a stop at the front doors. Students poured from the carriages and ran inside, holding bags and books above their heads to keep off the rain. Hermione glanced through the clouded window but Severus wasn't in sight, and so with a deep breath, she gathered her bags and ran through the rain to the inviting warmth of the entrance hall.

Hermione held her head high as she entered the Great Hall, aware of the eyes of Slytherin upon her. She passed the colourful groups of international students at smaller tables at the front of the hall, but only paused at the Durmstrang table, where the cluster of shaven-headed young men spoke in voices made inaudible by the buzz of the Great Hall. Was it Hermione's imagination or did they look unhappy?

Most of the Slytherins students nodded respectfully as Hermione approached. Severus and her friends sat in their usual place in the centre of the table. They would pretend, as would Hermione, that all was normal in public. It was the Slytherin way. She sat down between Regulus and Arabel and pulled a book from her bag, opening it to avoid meeting Severus's eyes across the table.

Over the top of her book, Hermione noticed Severus was not eating. He pushed food around his plate with a fork and stared at the table. Hermione ate quickly then buried her head in the book again. It was a relief when Dumbledore stood up and tapped his glass with his spoon.

"Good evening and welcome back to Hogwarts! I trust you all had a suitably festive Christmas and return refreshed and ready for a new season of learning. We are looking forward to an exciting spring term at Hogwarts. We continue to host our international friends, and in two weeks we will enjoy the second round of The International Wizards Duelling Tournament!"

At the Gryffindor table, James and Sirius whooped loudly. Dumbledore beamed at them.

"Following this, the final will take place on the last weekend of May. The world's media will descend upon the castle, and we must all do our best to make Hogwarts proud."

The hall burst into applause, and Hermione beat her hands together and tried to remember how many students each international school still had in the competition. A few schools had, like Hogwarts, won every duel. The Australians had won several, and she recalled that the Japanese had also done well.

"And now I bid you all a very good night, and a chance to rest your brains before our marvellous professors start filling them up again tomorrow," Dumbledore said. Benches scraped as hundreds of students rose and began to leave in chattering groups.

"Excuse me, Hermione Black?"

A small hand tapped Hermione on the arm and she turned to see a second-year girl waiting.

"Professor Slughorn wants to see you in his office, sir," the second-year said nervously. "And - and you too Snape."

Severus stared fixedly at the table. Hermione nodded at the second-year.

"Thanks. We'll be there."

Hermione picked up her bag and turned to Severus, but he had gone. She caught sight of him pushing through the crowd of students heading for the dungeons, and with a sigh, she followed.

Hermione caught up with Severus on the stairs down to the office.

"Sev, I think this is about -"

He began to walk faster, and she reached out a hand to catch his robes. He rounded on her.

"Look, whatever it is, I don't care. Let's just get it over with."

Hermione flinched, unable to help it. Severus turned and she followed, and they walked the rest of the way to the office without exchanging a word. But although his words hurt, was it just her imagination that his eyes held more pain than anger?

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Snape!" Slughorn said, beaming as he opened his office door. "Please come in!"

Hermione winced. "Sir, we actually went with Black-Snape," she said, avoiding Severus's thunderous face.

"Oh indeed? So very modern Mrs Black-Snape," Slughorn said in delight, settling back behind his desk and gesturing for them to sit. "Now don't tell Dumbledore, but I actually got you a little wedding present...oh, where did I put it?"

Slughorn rifled through his desk drawers and eventually, triumphantly, pulled out a bottle.

"Elf-made aged mead," he said to them conspiratorially. "Delicious. Here - it's for you." he passed the bottle over to Severus who barely managed to conceal the curl of his lip, and Hermione wanted to laugh. For a moment it was like nothing had changed.

"Now I know that the wizarding world can expect very great things from you two," Slughorn said. "A wizard as talented at potion-making as you Severus, and a duellist like you Hermione my girl - mark my words the pair of you are going to go far."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said when it became obvious they needed to say something.

"Don't mention it," Slughorn dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Now where was I? Ah yes, the reason I asked to see you. As I'm sure you are aware we don't have many students marrying before the school year is out - naughty," he winked. "But it has happened before. The school had a precedent for it, shall we say. And of course, it isn't suitable for married couples to live separately in dormitories. So a small private room has been set aside for you."

"Oh Christ," Severus said under his breath. Hermione coughed to cover it.

"Sir, goodness - we never realised this was an option," she said. "But er, we'd hate to take away space that the school needs. Truly, we don't mind living in our dorms."

"Yes, it was our choice to marry early after all," Severus said, recovering. "We could have waited. It wouldn't be fair to the other students for us to have special privileges."

"No no," Slughorn said, undeterred. "This comes from Professor Dumbledore himself. He absolutely insisted upon it."

Hermione ground her teeth and Severus scowled. Of course, Dumbledore had insisted that they share a private room. Never mind if one of them ended up dead as a result.

"In that case sir we're delighted," she said, when it became apparent Severus couldn't - or wouldn't - reply.

"I knew you would be," Slughorn chuckled. "Now your room is located two corridors down from the Slytherin common room, just past the portrait of Merlin. Better trot along to your dormitories and pick up your things."

Severus scraped his chair back and stood without looking at Hermione.

"Thank you, sir. We'll go fetch our things from the dormitories now."

\\/

In the Slytherin girls dormitory, Hermione dropped her bag on the floor beside the four-poster bed and sat down. An age had passed since she had last been here. Her trunk was sitting at the foot of the bed, and her books still rested in an untidy stack. It was inconceivable that she had to leave this and share a room with Severus - the person who probably now hated her more than anyone else in the world. It would be a disaster.

The curtains on the bed opposite twitched and drew back. "I've got to hand it to you," Arabel said, stretching herself across her bed. "You really know how to make a scene."

Hermione stilled. "Excuse me?"

It was the first time one of Hermione's friend had acknowledged her since the wedding. Arabel laced her fingers behind her head and turned to look at Hermione.

"With Severus's father of course. Really. Why on earth didn't you set it up so it looked like someone else killed the muggle? Now Severus is going to be such a liability. We've had to spend the whole holiday managing him, and honestly, it's getting a bit depressing."

Arabel's voice was so petulant that Hermione opened her mouth but couldn't find the words. Alecto came in from the bathroom towelling her hair off.

"Arabel means he's upset," she said. "I don't get it either. Why didn't you?"

Hermione stared at them. "You - I thought you weren't speaking to me?"

Arabel sat up and tossed her hair. "Oh come on Hermione. Obviously, Severus has to think we're sticking with him - he'd go off the deep end otherwise, tell me that I'm wrong?"

Hermione considered the matter and concluded that Arabel was not wrong.

"We saw your memories," Alecto reminded her. "Severus screws things up when he thinks he's alone. We knew he'd need us more than you do."

"I just don't understand why he's so angry," Hermione said, giving voice to her thoughts. "We've all killed before. I know I shouldn't have just done it, but his father was an abusive piece of shit. I didn't think - I never thought he would -"

Hermione's voice trailed off and she couldn't continue. Arabel sighed at Hermione with a mixture of pity and exasperation.

"You really don't know?"

Hermione's answer must have shown in her face because Arabel explained.

"It's because it wasn't your job to do it, it was his."

"That's why I killed Amycus," Alecto said. "It needed to be me."

"But really," Arabel finished. "We don't understand. Anyone of us could have gone over and killed that muggle the very next day and made it look like a break-in. Rabastan would have probably even enjoyed it. Was there any need for this?"

Hermione had to make herself close her mouth. She stared at Arabel and Alecto wordlessly.

"No," she said eventually. "Because then I would be lying to Severus, and I couldn't do that. I promised him I'd never lie to him."

Arabel and Alecto stared at Hermione as if the concept was so strange that they couldn't begin to conceive of it.

"Gryffindors," Arabel muttered to Alecto out of the corner of her mouth.

Hermione ignored them and gathered armfuls of robes and dresses from her wardrobe, piling them up on the bedspread.

"What are you doing?" Alecto asked.

"Dumbledore has arranged for his newly married students to share a room," Hermione said, enunciating each word precisely.

Arabe and Alecto stared at Hermione for several long seconds.

"Well that is unfortunate," Arabel said, pursing her lips."Still, we'll help you get packed." She picked up the robes that Hermione had flung onto the bed, shaking her head in disapproval. "These are robes - honestly Hermione - you have to fold them like this."

Arabel pushed Hermione out of the way and took over, spreading the robes over the bed and carefully folding them in from the sleeves and collar towards the middle. Alecto hurried to help, and soon, they had Hermione's entire wardrobe packed up neatly and efficiently. Hermione stared at her beautifully stacked trunk. Was folding robes something taught in wizarding infancy?

"Are you alright?" Arabel said as she checked the bedside drawers. "You look...ill. Doesn't she look ill, Alecto?"

"Not well," Alecto agreed, tilting her head to look closely at Hermione. Hermione squirmed under their gaze.

"And you've put on weight," Arabel commented. "I didn't notice, but now I haven't seen you for a few weeks it's obvious."

Hermione frowned. By the Christmas holidays, her baby bump had become obvious and she had begun to apply a concealing charm which gave the appearance of flatness to her stomach. Surely Arabel and Alecto couldn't know anything.

"Mostly around the face," Arabel continued, scrutinising Hermione. "You need to do something about that. I know things are stressful, but you need Slytherin to believe in you completely. They're going home to report to their parents, remember?"

"It's probably stress," Alecto said softly.

"Mm," Arabel said, staring hard. "Stress. Or something."

Hermione stared at the window, where the murky darkness of the black lake was visible and shadowy shapes moved through the gloom. Perhaps it was time to tell them. Voldemort knew, after all. And now that he knew surely the word would spread.

But something stopped her. The child was a secret that she and Severus had sworn to protect. When she considered the events of the past weeks it was a miracle that she hadn't lost it. But more risk lay ahead. Two rounds of the duelling competition remained, and the threat of Voldemort and Grindelwald.

"Stress," she agreed, meeting Arabel's eyes.

"Well you need to pull yourself together," Arabel warned. "The next few weeks might decide everything."

"Believe me," Hermione lied. "Everything is under control. Just - stay close to Severus. He'll need you."

"We will," Alecto promised, and Arabel agreed.

Ten minutes later Hermione pulled her trunk down the corridor to her new room. She didn't dare drag her feet lest any Slytherin was watching from the shadows - as they often did - but she wished it. Every step felt like a march towards execution. At the door to her new quarters, she hesitated. She would almost rather undergo another round of crucio than face Severus right now but had little choice. Taking a deep breath she grasped the door handle and pushed it open.

The room was elegant and perfectly proportioned. A double bed ran along one wall, and a low sofa along the opposite. Two writing desks sat in opposite corners beside a tiny kitchenette with a sink and a kettle. It was a tiny contained unit for living.

Hermione dragged her trunk in and straightened up. They were in the dungeons still, but the stone walls had been made less stark with discreet green and silver hangings. Through a window above the bed, the dark waters of the black lake lapped against the glass.

Behind an adjoining door, a tap stopped running. Hermione froze as the handle turned and Severus stepped out, drying his hands on a small towel. He paused at the sight of her, and turned around, carefully placing the towel back and closing the door.

"I didn't realise you had arrived," he said.

Hermione stared at him. She wanted to drink in his features, his dark eyes and the curve of his lips. Her husband. For a single instant, Severus stared back, and pain flashed in his eyes. But he glanced down at her trunk and his lips tightened.

"I'll sleep on the sofa," he said. "And I'll study back in the common room. If there's anything important," he stressed the word, "we - us and the others - can hold meetings in the old practice room. Otherwise, we speak to each other as little as possible. Agreed?"

Hermione leaned against the door for support.

"Yes. But Severus, please. Is your mother alright?"

Severus changed. It was as though he grew taller, and his face darkened.

"Don't ask about my mother."

"Please can't we just talk? Please -"

"No," Severus said, and Hermione wasn't imagining the way his face closed with pain.

"Sev - what's wrong?"

Severus hesitated, torn. "My mother isn't well. The shock affected her. She hasn't spoken since that night. I think seeing him did something to her mind."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I never wanted - I never meant -"

"I know," Severus snapped. "But you still fucking did it."

"Is your mother - was it safe for you to leave her?" Hermione said, picturing Eileen's pale face.

"Since she couldn't care for herself, no. I had to take her to St Mungo's," Severus said. His voice was even, but fury hung behind the words. For a minute Hermione couldn't form her own.

"I'm so sorry," she managed.

"I know," Severus said, and he turned abruptly. "I think I'll take a shower after all."

Severus vanished into the bathroom and a few moments later the shower started. Hermione lay down on the bed fully clothed, and listened to the water falling. The beautiful room seemed claustrophobic and she buried her face in the pillow, but it didn't block the image of Eileen or prevent Severus's words from ringing in her ears. Her head throbbed and she was sure that it would be impossible to sleep, but Hermione's exhausted body had its own way and long before the shower turned off she had slipped deeply into an uneasy slumber.

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Hermione woke while it was still dark, hot and sleep-heavy. She checked the time - 6 am - and rubbed at prickling eyes. Clearly, this was the punishment for falling asleep early. She was still in her robes, too, and sometime in the night, the concealing spell had worn off her stomach. Half-unconsciously Hermione cradled the bump. How strange it was to touch.

It came back gradually. Severus. The room. The unfamiliar bed.

Hermione sat up in bed letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Severus's snores rumbled through the room. He stretched uncomfortably across the sofa, his feet dangling. Why hadn't he transfigured a bed? She had forgotten that he snored. It was the first time they had shared a room together since the summer.

Hermione let her feet find the floor and stood slowly, hot and sticky in her robes. She investigated the small bathroom. Pulling off her robes, she turned on the spray and stepped in. The hot water sluicing over her skin soothed her stiffness, and she poured shampoo into her hands, lathering up her hair.

Hermione stayed in the shower longer than she needed to, but the steam and hot water soothed more than her muscles. She was calmer when she stepped out. Towels lay folded beside the sink, and as she wrapped one around herself she caught sight of her reflection.

Arabel was right about the weight gain. Hermione's cheeks were fuller and her eyes sunken. She pulled her fingers through her hair, seeking out the knots and letting it fall in wet strands around her face. Spidery lines were beginning across her forehead, and Hermione leaned in closer. Surely at twenty-two, she ought not to have lines, yet there they were. Still, she could fix the rest. She cast the concealment charm to hide her bump and her midsection shrank to flatness. In the mirror, her face was still puffy. Obviously, the spell didn't vanish every sign of pregnancy.

The shrill whistle of the kettle reminded Hermione of the time and she towelled off her hair. Wrapping a towel around herself securely, she left the bathroom. Severus stood at the kitchen bench pouring coffee, but Hermione ignored him and crossed to her trunk, pulling out fresh robes. She dressed quickly, awkward at Severus's presence but unwilling to react to it.

"Do you not think you could change in the bathroom?" Severus said, irritated.

"It's tiny in there."

"It's not appropriate -"

"Oh for god's sake," Hermione said, turning to face him. "We're married. You've seen me naked dozens of times. And even if our marriage isn't happening right now, I'm not willing to contort myself in a tiny space just so that you can pretend that none of this ever happened."

"It's common decency!"

"Decency? When you didn't even have the decency to speak to me, or return any of my owls?"

"I don't have to speak to you," Severus hissed.

"For the love of God have you never made a mistake before?" Hermione shouted.

Silence fell.

Hermione pulled a jumper over her head and stepped into robes. Severus stared at her stomach and paused, his mouth half-open. He looked conflicted. Hermione buttoned up her robes and realised why he looked so confused. She hadn't explained the concealment charm to him and Severus was probably wrestling with his desire to not speak to her, and his need to know why her bump was gone.

"It's a spell," she said, more gently. "So that nobody will find out."

"Ah. So the baby -"

"The baby is fine."

"Right. Good."

Severus turned sharply and picked up his bag letting the door slam shut as he left the room. On the counter, his cup of coffee still steamed. Hermione stared at the door, and at the coffee cup, and then picked it up and began to drink it. But barely had the door been shut a few seconds then it opened again. Hermione put the cup down quickly, guiltily, expecting Severus. But it wasn't him.

It was Arabel, carrying a large box.

"How did you get in here?" Hermione said as Arabel kicked the door shut behind her and dropped the box on the desk with a resounding crash.

"What? Oh, that was an easy ward," Arabel said.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione corrected, asking the more pertinent question.

"Hm?" Arabel said distractedly, rummaging in the box. "Is that coffee? Have you got any more?"

Hermione gave up and switched the kettle on. Arabel was impossible when she had something else on her mind. As she made another pot of coffee Arabel began laying all kinds of pots and jars on the corner desk.

"You can't go around looking the way you did yesterday," she said as Hermione brought over her cup.

"What do you -"

Halfway through the sentence, Hermione realised what the pots and jars were for.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," Arabel said, gripping Hermione's shoulder and pushing her down into the chair.

"I don't need -"

"Of course you do. You cannot possibly walk out of here looking the way you do and still command respect from the other Slytherins. Do you want them to tell the Dark Lord that something's wrong?"

"Arabel really I'm not the sort of -"

"Nonsense," Arabel said dismissively.

"But I don't need -"

"Yes, you do."

Hermione groaned and gave in. Arabel, sensing this, flicked her wand at Hermione, who had to suppress the urge to raise a shield. Instead, her hair twisted upwards and back off her face and Arabel hmmed with satisfaction.

"Good. Now let's get started with making you look a bit less dreadful shall we?"

Arabel unscrewed the first jar and scooped out a dollop of paste. Hermione closed her eyes as Arabel deftly began to rub it over her forehead, down her temples and across her cheeks. The cool paste was silky smooth and it soothed Hermione's hot skin.

Arabel kept up a flow of conversation as she worked which only required the minimum contribution from Hermione. Shaken as she was by the argument with Severus it was a relief to not have to say much. The sensation of fingers moving across her face was comforting and it would have been easy to fall asleep under the gentle ministration.

"Anyway, Frank Longbottom was offered an apprenticeship with the Auror department, and Rabastan is going to speak to his father about Alecto at Easter," Arabel said, brushing something powdery over Hermione's nose.

"He's going to speak to Deus?" Hermione said, astonished. She hadn't suspected that Rabastan's feelings for Alecto were that strong.

"Have you actually looked at Alex recently?" Arabel asked. Hermione considered it. She had been so distracted by everything and she struggled to recall if anything had looked different about Alecto at dinner the previous night.

"Oh honestly Hermione, you never pay attention. Since Amycus died she's been looking better and better."

"But Rabastan is so sharp, and Alex is so…."

"Rabastan loves the sound of his own voice," Arabel corrected. "And Alex likes to listen."

Hermione began to disagree and then stopped. Perhaps Arabel had a point.

"So what about you then?" she asked. To her great surprise, Arabel blushed.

"Regulus has made an offer," she admitted. "My father is considering it. But I asked him to wait until the summer. We'll know then, whether…"

"Whether we've defeated the dark lord," Hermione finished wearily.

It all came back to that. The terrible weight hanging over them all. None of them could move on with their lives until he was gone. Hermione shuddered at the idea of having her child in a world that Voldemort still lived in.

Arabel continued rubbing creams into Hermione's skin and the conversation moved onto lighter topics. It was such a relief after being alone for the two weeks of the Christmas holidays to have a conversation with another human. A friendly, normal chat like the ones they used to have in the dormitory. When at last Arabel pronounced Hermione finished she was sorry to stop.

Arabel conjured a mirror and held it up for Hermione to look into. A different woman looked back at her. Pale, creamy skin with a light blush on the cheeks and bright brown eyes that did not have the dark circles beneath them. Her lips were smooth pink, no longer chapped and chewed, and her face was slimmer. Arabel had even teased her hair into smooth curls.

"You look about five years younger," Arabel said smugly.

"I look...myself..." Hermione said, staring at the familiar face. This was the face she recognised, not the ravaged stranger who had been meeting her in mirrors lately.

"I should definitely include this in my espionage skills list," Arabel said, beginning to stacks bottles and jars back into her bag.

Hermione put the mirror down and turned to her.

"Thank you. Not just for this. For still being here."

Arabel hesitated, and then put the bag down.

"Severus isn't the only one who needs looking out for," she said, and Hermione crossed the room and hugged her. Arabel was not a person who embraced her friends often, but now her slender arms encircled Hermione and she squeezed briefly before stepping backwards.

"In class and at meals we can't be seen talking. We'll be with Severus. But you make sure you keep up a skincare routine even now you're not in the dormitory. See, I've left some creams on the desk for you. Morning and night, okay?" Arabel's voice was brisk but Hermione smiled, her heart warmed at the knowledge that she was not alone.

"Skincare routine got it. Need smooth skin to defeat Voldemort."

\\/

Thanks for reading,

Cas