A/N: Well, it's been ages, hasn't it? I promise, promise, promise that this story is not forgotten. It just unfortunately gets pushed to the bottom of the pile. Thanks for everyone who continues to express interest in it. I apologize that I don't have the time I used to.

Chapter 13: One Door Opens, Another One Slams

"Hermione, is something wrong?"

The witch glanced over the edge of her book toward her younger friend, who sat on the other side of the library table. Taking in a slow breath, she forced a smile onto her face and shook her head. "Of course not."

"You've been staring at the same page for more than five minutes," Ginny pressed, setting down her quill. "Normally, you'd have finished half the chapter by now."

The brunette grimaced slightly and rubbed her forehead. "I guess I've just been thinking."

With a devious smirk, the other girl wiggled her eyebrows. "About your prickly teddy bear?"

"No," Hermione stated with a slight blush.

"Uh-huh."

The bushy-haired witch narrowed her eyes and snapped her book shut. After glancing around and ascertaining that no one was in the vicinity, she leaned against the table. "If you must know, I was thinking about Neville."

"Whatever for?" Ginny asked with wide eyes. "Don't tell me you've –"

"Not like that, Gin," she chastised. "You know quite well that I'm happily married to the man of my dreams."

"Oh, I know. It's written all over your face."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"It can't have been anything but a week of pure bliss."

"Ginny!"

The redhead let out a long sigh. "Fine. Why are we concerned about Neville?"

"He's been acting strange around me lately."

Ginny gave a bemused smile. "I would think that the Brightest Witch of the Age would be able to figure that out."

"No, it's not just because of who I've married," the young woman explained. "He was really supportive at first. Even though he's afraid of Pr—Severus, he said that he was glad that Severus made me happy. But now… he avoids me like I have the plague. You had to have noticed it at supper last night. I tried talking to him, and all I got were monosyllabic answers and shrugs. He wouldn't even look at me."

"Huh… did something happen?"

"I don't know," she answered with a shrug. "Well, the other day in Charms, Malfoy pushed him out of the way and declared himself my partner… which is odd in its own right. I mean, I could see that he would be skittish around Malfoy or Severus, but even when neither of them is there, he avoids me. Yesterday, I tried to sit at his library table and he immediately packed up his things and left."

"I see." Ginny tapped her chin with the feather of her quill for several seconds while she considered the issue. Finally, she cleared her throat and met her friend's eyes. "Is Snape –"

"Professor Snape."

"Not to you," she smirked. "Anyway, do you know if Professor Snape is related to Malfoy?"

Hermione inhaled slowly. "Not that I know of, but then again – aren't all of the pureblood families interbred? No offense."

The youngest Weasley crossed her eyes and pretended to drool as she slurred, "None taken."

"Stop it," the brunette giggled.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Wouldn't want to be mistaken for ickle Ronniekins anyway."

"Shhh…" Hermione warned after a bright laugh had escaped her. "You're so mean, Gin."

"Yes, well… I would be nicer if he weren't acting like such a prat lately," Ginny answered. "But, yes… I suppose I even must be related to your cuddly grumpikins somehow. I think I'm second cousins once removed with Draco's mother and something or other with Lucius Malfoy? I don't really keep track like some people do, but anyway… back to my point. If Draco is closely related to Sn – Professor Snape, like a nephew or first cousin or something, he may have declared himself your chaperone."

The older girl's eyes narrowed in confusion. "My what?"

"It's an old pureblood tradition," her friend explained with a sigh. "Sometimes if a husband is unable to escort his wife for something and there is no other female present, then a close male relative of hers or his can step in and essentially keep anyone from gossiping about her. If Neville was supposed to partner with you, and Malfoy stepped in like that, he may have taken it as being put on notice."

Hermione let out a small groan and covered her face with her hands. "Why are there so many stupid traditions?"

"Beats me," Ginny shrugged, pulling forth her Potions text once more. "But I know that there are a bunch of books you could read."

"I know," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "The Malfoys sent me a copy of Of Ribbons, Roses, and Rings. I haven't really read it, though. The introduction was almost enough to turn my stomach."

The other witch giggled and then leaned forward. "You know… there's a companion book to –"

"Yes, I know!" the brunette snapped as a blush graced her cheeks.

"Bunch of fecking idiots," Severus snarled under his breath after entering his sitting room through the office doorway. An affronted gasp caused him to pause mid-step and look toward the sofa, where his new wife was curled up against the armrest with her giant orange familiar flicking its tail as it perched above her head. Upon noticing that her glare was directed at the book in her hands and not at him, he raised one eyebrow in surprise and continued moving toward the long table that held the stacks of student work.

"My god," Hermione growled before glancing up at him. "Have you read this? It's disgusting!"

Without removing his gaze from the pile of essays that he was sorting, the wizard tilted his head. "If that is a book from my personal shelves, I have read it. However, since you did not ask permission, I do hope that it is not."

"It isn't," she huffed, turning her eyes back to the book. "It's the one the Malfoys sent."

Snape let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. "If you were expecting them to send you an enjoyable read, you are a bigger fool than I have ever suspected."

"Oh, I expected to be offended," the girl stated as she flipped the page.

His eyebrows pinched together as he briefly glanced over his shoulder. "Do you suffer the physical inability to not read every book within sight?"

"No," she muttered, rolling her shoulders. "I just thought I should see what other idiotic traditions and policies I'm now expected to follow."

Giving a small grunt, he returned to his previous task only to be interrupted a few seconds later by another irritated hiss.

"Uggh, listen to this," Hermione stated before straightening her spine and clearing her throat. "Merlin… 'As the Mistress of the household, your duty is to run a respectable home and to secure the comfort, happiness, and well-being of your husband and his family. It is of special importance that you ensure the children are properly tended to, and that you see to the education of the younger children, whether that entails personally providing their instruction or supervising external tutoring. The children's behavior and poise reflect upon your husband as much as your own'... Ugh, and it gets even better… 'To provide a place of order and tranquility, you must ensure that the household is running smoothly, and that all manner of housekeeping has been completed. If your husband is of fortunate enough means to provide you with the assistance of house-elves, you must see to their management'… Ugh, I can't. I can't read this rubbish any more. I mean, when was this written?"

The witch quickly flipped the book open to the front cover and peered at the date of publication. "Last year? Last year! My god… 'It is additionally within your responsibilities to organize social events at your husband's preferred frequency to bring him further prestige and provide him additional opportunities to develop or strengthen associations… It is acceptable for you as a married witch to seek employment outside of the household if your husband is agreeable to the prospect and there are no concerns regarding the care of children'… Are you kidding me? It's like… It's like women's liberation never happened!"

Severus sighed softly as he looked toward her once more. "As far as the Wizarding World is concerned, Miss Granger, it never did."

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she immediately spun around and leaned against the backrest of the couch. "But there are so many women working and in leadership positions, too!"

"Yes, with the influx of Muggleborns in society, it has become more common," he stated, "but not amongst the traditionalists. And even so, you'd be hard-pressed to find many working women with children younger than eleven."

Hermione frowned as she considered the statement. While scratching Crookshanks behind the ear, she thought about all of the working witches that she interacted with frequently. "What about the female staff here?"

"The majority have never been wed," he replied. "Poppy was married prior to accepting the position here, but her husband had already passed on. Madam Pince is still technically married, I suppose, though she took up the job after her husband ran off with their barely come-of-age goddaughter thirty odd years ago."

"No wonder she's so bitter," the girl sighed. "That's horrid."

"It's a bit of a dragon or the egg situation, I would say," Snape sneered. "Is she a bitter, old hag because he ran off, or did he run off because she's a bitter, old hag?"

Glaring, the witch shook her head. After the urge to snap at him passed, she crossed her arms. "What about Professor McGonagall, then? She told me she had been married."

"Oh, she was," he nodded. "Caused quite the stir amongst polite society, too. Not only did she continue teaching after marrying into the well-respected and well-endowed Urquart family, she also outrageously refused to take his name."

A proud smile appeared on her face as she considered her mentor. "Well, wouldn't you do the same if you were facing an eternity of Mrs. Urquart?"

"Quite," the man smirked. "However, because she remained McGonagall, she received nothing when her husband died unexpectedly only a few years later. Since he had yet to file a will with the Ministry, all of his property went back to the family estate instead of to his wife as it normally would have gone. She could claim no legal right to the cottage which they had shared, and was forced to return to her former residence here."

"That's awful," Hermione sighed, resting her chin upon the back of the couch. After he grunted in acknowledgement, she allowed her mind to drift to the other witches she knew. "What about Madam Rosmerta?"

"Inherited the pub after her husband drunk himself stupid and attempted to apparate clear across the island," Severus replied. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow."

The girl grimaced slightly at the imagery accompanying the explanation. "Madam Malkin?"

"Not actually a madam. I assume she found it more respectable for a shop name than Miss Malkin."

"Huh," she murmured. "Amelia Bones?"

Severus shook his head. "Unwed."

A deep sigh escaped her as she turned her reflection onto her classmates' mothers. She had always just assumed that the Wizarding World was similar to the Muggle one in that Mrs. Weasley – the epitome of the homemaker – was in the minority. Thinking about it now, however, she never really heard anyone discussing their mothers' work as they did their fathers'. It suddenly made more sense as to why her roommates had been so shocked to learn that her parents were both employed even though they were not struggling financially by any means.

"Is your mother employed?" she asked quietly. "I would assume not, but…"

The wizard visibly stiffened. "No. She was never employed."

"Oh," Hermione murmured, eyeing him with uncertainty. When he did nothing else, she thought again of her friends. She knew that Neville's mother had been an Auror prior to his birth and to her being tortured into insanity by Bellatrix, but she supposed no one would ever know whether the woman had intended to remain one after becoming a mother. Perhaps that could explain why so many of the Slytherins looked down upon him even though he was of just as pure of blood as they considered themselves to be.

But what about Muggleborn witches? They must be more likely to disavow the traditional ways. She bit down on her lip as she thought about Harry's mother. She had been Muggleborn and a member of the Order after all. "What about Harry's mum? Was she –"

"Enough of this folly," Snape snapped, dropping the last stack of essays onto the table. "I have things to do."

The girl's mouth slowly closed as she watched him stride toward the door that led to his laboratory. She flinched briefly as the door slammed shut behind him, and then sank further into the couch. When Crookshanks climbed down into her lap and began kneading her leg, she let out a long breath and began to stroke his spine.

"What did I say?"

As Professor McGonagall instructed each of the seventh years to break up into partners, Hermione sighed and flicked her eyes to the smug blonde who had again commandeered the seat beside her.

She had not been brave enough to broach the subject of Malfoy's apparent chaperoning with her husband yet. It had been supper time before he had reappeared from his lab, and she had not dared to ask him anything further. But Severus was not the only one whom she could ask about possible familial ties to the youngest Malfoy.

The witch cleared her throat and turned to face the boy himself. "How are you related to Severus?"

"Pardon?" Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise at her question, and he then shrugged. "Third cousins on Father's side, second cousins thrice removed on Mother's."

"Huh," she grunted before donning a frown. He certainly was not as closely related to the Slytherin spy as Ginny had hypothesized. If third cousins were close enough to be her chaperone, she was willing to bet that half of her friends would qualify. Neville himself would probably qualify.

When she looked back to the blonde, he narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Hermione swallowed hesitantly. "I was just impressed that you knew that off the top of your head."

"Yes, I suppose that would seem impressive to you," Draco sighed arrogantly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed.

A small smirk was on his face as he replied, "Anyone of decent upbringing knows enough to memorize their familial ties – no matter how distant."

"I see," the witch stated, straightening her spine. "I suppose that would be a good idea, yes. Probably helps cut down on all of the three-legged, one-eyed children."

A small spark ignited in his eyes, but as he opened his mouth to insult her, McGonagall appeared before them.

"Mis—Madam Snape, Mr. Malfoy – perhaps we might focus on the lesson? We have half an hour left for you to practice transfiguring each other's faces. I suggest you get to it."

"Yes, Professor," they stated in unison.

Draco withdrew his wand and sneered as soon as the witch had moved on to supervise the next pair. "I'll show you one-eyed."

After bidding goodbye to her friends, Hermione sighed in frustration as she made her way up to the Arithmancy classroom. Not only was she continuing to attract stares and whispers, she also had Malfoy trailing her by a half dozen paces. It was disconcerting to say the least, but she knew that the boy could not hex her in the back without earning Voldemort's disapproval.

"Noticed you weren't at breakfast this morning, Mrs. Snape," a boy sneered as she stepped off of the staircase. "Did your husband forget to unlock the cage or something?"

Balling her hands into fists against her side, she tried to ignore the student as she walked past him. A strangled cry a moment later, however, drew her attention in that direction. Seeing that the boy's tie had suddenly tied itself into a bow around his head, effectively gagging him, her eyes quickly swept to her Slytherin shadow who was hastily re-sheathing his wand. As her mouth parted in shock, Draco grabbed hold of her elbow.

"Let's go, Granger," he hissed, tugging her in the direction of the classroom.

"But you just attacked –"

"What are you going to do?" he sputtered. "Take points? Of the two of us, I'm the only one who can still do that, so don't tempt me."

"I swear, if you take points off of me –"

"You'll tell lover boy?" Malfoy scoffed. "By all means. Please do. I'd love to hear what he says."

Hermione huffed bitterly and yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"Oi! It's not my fault that you don't have any female friends."

"I do so!"

"Who?" he questioned before animatedly scanning the hallway outside of the classroom. "Don't see anyone. Oh, did you mean Weaslette? Last I checked she doesn't sit any of your classes."

The girl grumbled as she pushed past him into the still empty room. After they had both flopped into their seats, the girl sighed and stared at him. "So you are chaperoning me, then?"

Draco rolled his eyes and glared at the ceiling.

"I thought you had to be a close relative to do that."

"Ohhh," he cooed. "Look who suddenly fancies herself an expert in Wizarding customs. Except your all-knowingness neglected to account for the fact that chaperones are meant to be close male relatives or those with special designations."

"He told you to –"

"He didn't have to tell me," the boy interrupted. "I meant special designations as in godson, godfather, trustee, charge, or guardian."

Hermione's eyebrow rose as she leaned back in her chair. "Oh. So you're…"

"His godson," he snapped before flicking his eyes toward the doorway where the rest of the class was beginning to arrive.

The witch sighed and folded her arms to her chest as she allowed the information to sink in. It made some sense that he would partner with her to keep rumors about involvement with other men at bay, but she still wondered why the boy was willing to risk punishment in order to stand up for her. Or why he continued glaring at a pair of students who were whispering as they periodically glanced back at her.

She briefly considered asking him, but had the distinct impression that Malfoy had reached his quota for condescendingly answering her questions. Furthermore, she had reached her own quota for being spoken to as though she were an imbecile.

"He's your godson?" Hermione screeched as soon as the office door slammed shut behind her.

The Slytherin Head nonchalantly raised his dark eyes toward hers. "If you're referring to Draco Malfoy, then yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Severus pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair. "You didn't ask. I didn't see the need."

"You didn't see the need?" she repeated, slamming one hand against his desk and then gesturing toward the corridor. "That prat has tormented me for six and a half years, and you didn't think to bloody mention it? I deserved to know that I would be forced to put up with him!"

"I have forced you to do no such thing," he stated calmly, folding his arms to his chest. "Have you seen him traipsing through my quarters like your mangy beast does? Has he joined us for private dinners? I think not."

The witch shook her head angrily. "No, he's just harassing me at every turn! Threatening my friends, stalking me in the hallway, refusing to allow me to work with anyone else!"

Snape tilted his head and slowly raised one eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "He's appointed himself my bloody chaperone!"

Her husband pressed two fingers to his temple before rolling his shoulders. "Perhaps you gave him some cause to do so."

"Absolutely not!" Hermione hissed. "I haven't done anything inappropriate with anyone! Except you… allegedly."

Scowling, the man again picked up his quill. "Then I shall speak with him."

His young wife took in a slow breath and attempted to control her temper. "Today?"

With a roll of his eyes, he gave an exasperated sigh. "If it will prevent further tantrum."

"In your office?" she pressed.

"If that is what Madam wishes," he mocked.

"Ugh!" The girl huffed bitterly as she spun on her heel. She allowed the door to again slam behind her as she stormed out of the room and into the corridor.

"Ooohhh…" came a catty voice. "Someone's pissy today."

Hermione's eyes hardened into a glare as she turned to face Pansy Parkinson and another Slytherin seventh-year, Marianne Runcorn.

"Is the Professor too busy to satisfy you right now?" Marianne asked with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. "You know, he still does have a job."

Pansy stuck out her bottom lip and clucked in mock sympathy. "Poor little mudblood… finding out the world doesn't revolve around her."

The pair's giggles immediately died away when the office door was suddenly yanked open to reveal their Head of House.

"Parkinson, Runcorn," Snape stated nastily. "A word."

"But we have class in –"

"In," he barked. "Now."

Hanging their heads, the two girls somberly stepped past him into the room. The tall wizard glared at them until they were standing before his desk, and then donned a softer glance as he looked back to where his wife stood a few paces down the hallway. Clearing his throat, he spoke just loud enough to be overheard by his errant students. "I will be engaged this evening, Hermione. I do not know if I will be able to meet you before supper so it would probably be best if you planned to eat with your friends."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief and then coughed lightly as she briefly flicked her eyes to where a group of Slytherin students had appeared from a staircase. "Alright. I do hope to see you at some point tonight, though."

"Of course," he nodded, managing the hint of a smile. Then, with a wink, he donned a cold scowl and disappeared back into his office.

"Morgana's tits, did he just wink at her?"

The Gryffindor witch bit down on her bottom lip and quickly set on her way as the surprised students began animatedly whispering about their Head's seemingly love-struck behavior. To be perfectly frank, she had been contemplating the exact same thing, albeit for different reasons. His students found it unbelievable that he could be in love, while she found it strange that he could manage to appear that way not five minutes after she had barged into his office and screamed at him.

The man is scary good at it, too. Scary believable. A small grin spread across her face as she ascended the stairs to the ground floor. Or just plain scary. Bipolar almost. Huh… that could explain some things. Fabulous. I've married someone mentally unbalanced... I wonder if there's a potion I could suggest he take. Perhaps I'll ask Madam Pomfrey.

"Ohhh, Mary, look. She's smiling again."

"Yeah, so?"

"So… Where do you think she just was?"

"But he's teaching –"

"It's his open hour, though."

"Oh yeah! Guess she must have an open slot in her schedule, too."

"Not just in her schedule."

"Ewww, Darius! Don't be disgusting."

Gritting her teeth, Hermione darted down a side corridor and then waited just out of sight until the gossiping trio of students had made it a significant distance down the hallway. She had never held a stronger desire to take away House points.

"Where's the Old Ball-and-chain, eh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Seamus and Dean started laughing, and then stabbed her fork into a chunk of potato.

"Just ignore them," Harry suggested softly.

Ginny nodded in agreement and then tilted her head. "Though, seriously… you didn't have a lover's spat, did you? He doesn't often miss a meal."

Her friend glared at her as she responded, "Of course not. Why would we ever be quarrelling? He simply had some work to get done."

"Oh," the redhead commented, briefly meeting her boyfriend's gaze.

"Erm…" Harry mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he dropped his voice and leaned forward. "Is he just working, or is he working?"

"What do…" Hermione trailed off as she realized what the boy was actually asking. She felt a slight stab of panic in her gut when she considered that her husband could very well have meant that he would be engaged away from the school that evening. She had not seen him in several hours, and it would certainly explain why he was not thrilled about having to find time to talk to Draco that day.

He could be meeting with Voldemort right now. Feeling suddenly guilty for all of the mean things she had thought about the Order spy all day, the young witch dropped her fork to her plate. She stared wide-eyed at her friends and then cleared her throat. "I think I'm just going to go check on him. Good night."

They offered her similar sentiments in return, but Hermione hardly heard them as she quickly scampered up from the Gryffindor bench. Several eyes followed her exit from the Great Hall, but she paid no attention to anything except her own concerned musings.

As far as she knew, it had been more than a week since Snape had last gone to Voldemort, and she had honestly no idea as to how frequently he was summoned. Likely there was no reason for her to fret about his safety, but she could not quite shake the statement Tonks had made a week and a half prior about the possibility of him being murdered by a pack of Death Eaters.

By the time the girl reached the dungeons, she had worked herself into something of an emotional frenzy. She was nearly certain that he had been summoned, that Voldemort had been angry with the spy, and that Snape was in mortal danger. Taking in a panicked breath, she all but threw open the door to his office…

… and stopped dead in her tracks.

Her husband was perfectly fine. He was sitting at his desk, eating his supper and chatting with Draco sodding Malfoy.

"Hermione," he murmured, pointedly staring at the door. As she finally moved to close it, he cleared his throat. "I would ask if you had missed me already, but based upon the shocked expression on your face, I would be more willing to wager you were hoping to get a crack at my private library."

Her mouth parted in disbelief, but upon noticing the smug look on Draco's face, she snapped it shut and glared at him. "No. I was just… not hungry, so I thought I might go to bed early."

"I see," Severus commented as he picked up his fork. When she continued staring at him for several long seconds, he raised one eyebrow and cocked his head. "Were you waiting for me to tuck you in?"

As Malfoy let out a loud bark of laughter, Hermione donned a dark scowl and stormed across the room.

"Do try to keep to your side of the bed this time."

Biting back an angry retort, the witch growled dangerously as she moved into their living quarters and, once again, slammed the door behind her.