A/N: Thanks for the continued reviews! I love that you all keep this on your radar even though I'm super flighty about finding the time to update it. For those of you hoping for a resolution (perhaps of an intimate nature), it isn't going to happen here. They have lots of stuff to work out, and neither of them are ready for... intimacies just yet.
As for your thoughts on their quarreling, I like that some of you are more sympathetic to Severus, while others side with Hermione. Clearly, neither of them are entirely blameless in the situation.
Anyway... here you go!
Chapter 16: First Big Fight
At the urging of her bladder, Hermione awoke bright and early Saturday morning. At least, she assumed it was bright, since there were no actual windows in her room. After her morning ablutions were completed, she found her indignation was as vibrant as it had been before she had gone to bed a few hours before. Deciding to take advantage of the fact that Snape appeared to still be asleep, she quickly dressed and packed a few things into her shoulder bag. Afraid he would suddenly yank open his door, she sprinted across the sitting room and then gently shut the door behind her.
Several minutes later, she arrived at the Fat Lady's Portrait. Unfortunately, she was not in possession of the current password, so she found a seat in the nearest window well and cracked open a book. While her House was the least likely to rise early on the weekend, she was certain that someone would eventually venture out in search of either food or mischief.
Before long, a group of giggling first years emerged, and Hermione was able to slip into the Common Room behind them. Though she attracted awkward stares from the few occupants of the room, she ignored them and settled into her favorite armchair. She was content to read until Ginny appeared in front of her half an hour later.
"Hermione? What are you doing here so early?"
The brunette cleared her throat and slipped her book back into her bag. "I thought I would spend time with you today."
"Of course! The boys are probably still asleep, but you and I can go grab breakfast. We were going to mess around a bit on the pitch, but I could –"
"That's fine!" Hermione gasped, standing up and shouldering her bag. "I'll come with you."
Ginny's eyes went wide as she followed her friend through the portal. "Really? But you hate Quidditch!"
"I hate flying," she corrected.
"Okay, but you don't like Quidditch."
"But I like you, and I like spending time with you," Hermione shrugged. "If I get bored, I have things to read and an essay to write."
"You do realize that we'll probably be out there for hours, yeah?"
"Perfect."
The redhead frowned. "Are you alright?"
Her friend glanced around to ensure that no one was nearby. "I would rather not have to deal with a certain someone today."
"Oh." Ginny pondered that for a moment and then grabbed hold of her. "Hold on. Did something happen? Did he… did he do something?"
"No, not… not like that." Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He's just… being exceptionally Snape-ish lately."
"Ah. That would make sense, considering he is actually Snape, after all."
She sighed lightly and gave a wan smile. "Yes, well… I'm determined to avoid him for as long as possible."
The younger witch laughed and slipped her arm through her friend's. "Well, then, allow me to assist you!"
"Lovely. What do you think the boys would say to nicking a lunch basket from the kitchen and picnicking on the pitch?"
"I think they would say that that could be very easily arranged."
The sun was low in the sky as the group of Gryffindors returned to the castle. Since her friends planned on eating in the Great Hall, where she could see her miserable husband taking his seat, she bid them a cheerful goodbye and headed down to the kitchens instead.
Worried she might have a collection of poorly knit hats stashed away in her bag, the elves put together a meal for her as fast as possible and then sent her on her way. After a few minutes were spent debating where she could eat without risk of discovery, she gave a mental thanks to the Marauders and the Weasley twins for the map that Harry now owned. Though it was not currently in her possession, she still happened to know where a number of secret passages were located. Once she had determined a destination and slipped past the grotesque statue that hid its entrance, she cast a cushioning charm on the floor, produced a few bluebell flames for light, and then settled in to enjoy her supper.
She had completed her essay while outside with her friends, so once she had finished eating, the girl again pulled out one of her books to read. Eventually, due to the warmth and low light of the bluebell flames, she nodded off to sleep.
Waking up with a start – and with a small crick in her neck – Hermione rubbed her eyes before finding her wand to cast a Tempus charm. She grimaced at discovering it was nearly half an hour past curfew, but then raised her chin in defiance. Snape could no longer take points away from her, and since she was not terribly far from their quarters, she doubted she would run into any other members of staff. Even if she happened to, it would be worth the point loss to give the prick a taste of his own medicine.
As such, she took her time packing up her things, extinguishing her flames, and making her way back to their quarters. She purposely strode past his office door, choosing to utilize the entrance near the Slytherin dormitory, lest he be lying in wait at his desk. Thankfully, their sitting room was empty when she arrived, so she set to preparing for bed.
A door slammed as she left the bathroom, and the girl looked up to see her husband standing in front of his office door and glaring at her.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Hermione flinched, but fought to recover. "Actually, I don't see how that's any of your business."
"I beg to bloody differ!"
"Well," she shrugged. "That's your opinion, then."
His jaw dropped in unmistakable anger, and she gave him a small grin.
"Good night."
Without allowing him a chance to argue, the witch spun on her heel and disappeared into her room.
"Foolish Gryffindor. Never seeing the line between bravery and stupidity."
Whirling around, Hermione turned to glare at the wall where Caitriona Selwyn – the first female Head of Slytherin House – was primly settling onto the chaise sofa in her painting. "I didn't ask for your opinion."
Caitriona lifted her chin and cleared her throat. "Show some sense, child. If you speak to your husband in such a manner, it would be in your best interest to at least lock the door behind you."
"He wouldn't…"
"Hmmph. Famous last words of many a naïve woman." With a disapproving huff, the painted witch stood and sashayed out of frame.
Though she did not foresee it as being necessary, Hermione latched the door before crawling into bed.
Leaving her bedroom the following morning, Hermione frowned upon realizing that not only was her husband awake, but he was comfortably settled in the armchair facing her. He said nothing, however, so she chose to follow his lead by ignoring him. Hoping he might grow bored and find something else to do, she locked the bathroom door and proceeded to take as long a shower as she could stand.
Almost an hour later, she dressed and towel-dried her hair. For the first time, she almost wished she was as appearance-obsessed as Lavender Brown was so she could spend another hour doing her hair and make-up. As it was, she merely squared her shoulders and hoped she would find the sitting room empty once again.
Unfortunately, that was not to be, for Snape still occupied his chair. The only evidence that he had moved at all was the quill in his hand and the stack of essays on his lap. Again, he did not acknowledge her, so the witch went into her room to fetch her bag before striding back through the sitting room to the exit.
The door knob refused to give no matter which way she positioned the latch. Growling under her breath, she turned to glare at the wizard who merely continued marking an essay. With a huff, she stomped past the sofa and his chair to reach his office door. When she found that, too, to be magically sealed somehow, she squawked in frustration and immediately whirled around to fix the back of his head with a death stare.
"Would you care to explain why I can't open the doors?"
Severus gently cleared his throat. "That would be because I warded them shut."
"Then unward them," she snapped, returning to the middle of the room.
Shuffling between his papers, he raised an eyebrow. "I am not inclined to do so currently."
"What?!" Hermione gripped the strap of her bag hard enough that her knuckles turned white. "Let me out! You can't keep me in here."
"I can," he retorted, "and I will, until you explain where it is you think you're going."
"It's brunch, and I'm hungry. Satisfied?"
He flipped another page. "The remainder of the day?"
"I have an Arithmancy project," she stated coldly. "I'll be in the library."
"You'll be properly escorted?"
"Yes!" she snapped. "Ginny said she would meet me, so Malfoy can stand down."
"And where were you last night?"
The witch crossed her arms. "Where were you the night before last?"
His head snapped up, and his dark eyes met hers. They stubbornly stared at each other for several seconds before he finally replied, "I was on the grounds."
"I see." The girl tilted her head. "I was in the castle."
"Where in the castle?"
"Where on the grounds?" she challenged.
A cold glare was his only response.
"I can do this all day instead of finishing my homework, if you'd like," Hermione smirked. "You see, it isn't as though my marks actually count for anything anymore."
Snape pursed his lips together as he continued to stare at her. When she gave no sign of backing down, he returned his eyes to the essay in front of him. "Six-thirty, I expect you back here for supper."
Her eyes narrowed. "Here?"
The wizard sighed deeply. "It was suggested that since today marks a fortnight since our union, we might take it upon ourselves to observe it."
"Ah," she murmured. "Only a fortnight? It's seemed so much longer."
"A gross understatement," Snape retorted, flicking his hand in the direction of the door. As soon as his wife had escaped out into the corridor, he let out a snarl and sent the entire stack of essays flying.
As the supper hour drew near, Hermione remained seated at the work table she shared with Terry Boot – her Arithmancy partner – Ginny, and Harry. Ronald had briefly joined them, but eventually grew weary of doing his homework and had gone off with Seamus an hour or so prior.
Passing a section of work over to Terry for feedback, Hermione quickly checked the time and smiled to herself at seeing that it was already quarter to seven. She pulled one of the books closer to her and dipped her quill into the inkwell to resume her note-taking.
A chill rippled across her spine, and the witch glanced over her shoulder to see The Bloody Baron hovering between the tables. Letting out a huff, she made sure that everyone nearby was occupied with their work and then leaned as close as she dared to the scowling spectre.
"He can take supper… and stuff it," she whispered.
The ghost's responding glare caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end, but after a moment he floated through the nearest stack.
"Seven years, and he still creeps me out," Terry sighed.
"No kidding," Harry mumbled, closing his book. "He's not, you know, going to be following you around all the time, is he?"
"Merlin, I hope not," Hermione replied.
"Leave it to Professor Snape to have the grizzliest possible ghost as a guard dog," Terry snickered.
Harry shrugged. "Still better than Malfoy."
As Ginny and the boys giggled conspiratorially, Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Alright, can we get back to work, please? I don't have all night."
"Why not?" Ginny smirked. "Special plans?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," she muttered.
"Please don't," Harry and Terry groaned in unison.
A hissed warning from Madam Pince silenced the group, and Hermione soon after lost herself in her reading once again. It was not until a throat cleared behind her that she noticed everyone staring at her. Pinching her lips into a thin line, she turned in her seat to see her husband eyeing her impatiently.
Swallowing down her fear, she put her arm over the back of her chair and forced a smile. "Severus. Was there something you needed?"
Scowling at the intrigued students until they looked away, he stepped closer to her chair. He leaned down, placing his hands on the table on either side of her, to murmur, "Is there a reason you are still here and not where we –"
"I thought I was distracting you," Hermione replied, tilting her head. "However would you get your work done if you spend the entire time thinking about –"
"Hermione!" Snape hissed, flicking his gaze over her head. Though no one met his eye, it was clear they were still paying attention. He dropped his voice even further. "Get your things, and come with me. Now… before I lose my patience."
Though she recognized the sharp edge to his tone, her anger spurred her to giggle. "Again? Darling, are you sure you're up to it?"
His eyes flashed as he reared back from her and immediately snatched up her bookbag from the floor. Setting it down on the table, he whispered, "I will wait for you outside, but if you are not there in the next three minutes… I will carry you out of here myself. Are we clear?"
Without waiting for her reply, he stalked away from the table leaving her to face all of the gaping students on her own.
Her cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment; Hermione slowly stood from her chair and began tidying up her things. "Erm, Terry, is it alright if we finish this later?"
"Absolutely," the boy nodded. "It's not due for a few weeks anyway."
"Thanks." Shouldering her bag, she bid a quiet farewell to her friends.
"That, and Snape'd probably murder me if I kept her any longer."
The witch bristled upon overhearing Terry's statement, but continued toward the exit, avoiding what she was certain was a disapproving stare from Madam Pince. After she passed through the library doors, Snape moved from where he had been waiting – rather impatiently - to fall in step beside her.
"Satisfied, are you?" he murmured.
Instead of answering, Hermione merely shrugged and kept her eyes trained on the hallway ahead of them. She could feel the rage emanating from his person, but he managed to keep it reined in while they made their way down to the dungeons. Neither of them said another word until the door to their quarters had been shut behind them.
Immediately, the wizard rounded on her. "What the HELL do you think you're playing at, Granger?"
Determined not to lose her resolve, Hermione crossed her arms and raised her chin. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Whatever do I mean?" he sneered. "Your juvenile little stunt in the library aside, did I, or did I not tell you to be down here almost an hour ago?"
"You did."
"Oh, so you do remember what I told you?"
"Yes, I remember."
His nostrils flared as he gestured at the door. "Then do explain why the hell I just had to –"
"You told me what you wanted me to do, sir," she interrupted coolly, "but I don't recall ever agreeing to do so. And since you never actually asked if that was acceptable to me, I didn't see the need to inform you as to whether or not I would attend."
Severus took several steps toward her. "When I tell you to do something, Granger, I expect you to do it!"
"Well, then, why don't you just take your bloody expectations and dive off a cliff?!" she shouted.
"EXCUSE ME?"
"No! I will not excuse you! You are not my father, and you are no longer my professor! You do not get to–"
"But I am your husband now," he snarled. "And as your –"
"Yes! You are unfortunately my husband, and I am unfortunately your wife, and as such, we are supposed to be partners!" Hermione gestured wildly behind her as she continued to yell. "I don't care what that stupid, archaic book implies – you don't get to dictate what I do, or when or where or with whom I do it! I am not your property! I am not your prisoner! You don't own me. You and I are now equal, which means that if you expect me to answer to you, you had better expect to answer to me!"
Her chest heaving, the witch twirled away from the frighteningly silent man before he had a chance to see the tears spill out of her eyes. She strode quickly toward her room, pausing just long enough to say, "Stuff supper up your arse, for all I care."
With that, she disappeared through the charmed tapestry and slammed her door shut for good measure.
Minutes passed while Severus continued to stare at the now empty space in front of him. When his hands began to tremble with anger, however, he stormed out of the room into his office. Not bothering to take the time to slam that door, he instead took his frustration out on his desk. He delivered a kick hearty enough to move the heavy piece of furniture a few inches, and then knocked his quill jar halfway across the room.
"Goddamn it!" he bellowed. He was only trying to protect her, but the little chit could not seem to see it! She was deliberately flouting her safety just to disobey him. Just because the Dark Lord stated she would not be harmed, did not mean that she was untouchable. The Dark Lord's word was not to be trusted farther than one could toss a hippogriff, and his followers even less so.
The entire scheme relied upon their playing the roles of reluctant-to-be-separated lovers while in public, and she had purposely spent the entire weekend away from him. Finding her bedroom empty the morning before had concerned him enough to rush up to the Great Hall, but he had relaxed upon seeing her with her friends. Miss Weasley had been there to ensure she was properly chaperoned so he did not mind that she chose to spend the day outside enjoying their company. After all, it had given him time alone to finish some brewing for Poppy.
But when idiots arrived to supper without Hermione in tow, the voice of concern returned and had caused him to step down from the dais to question the Weasley girl as to her whereabouts. He had then gone to the kitchens and was told by the elves that she had taken the food with her a few minutes prior. The two hours that followed had been spent searching their quarters, the library, Gryffindor Tower, the Room of Requirement, and anywhere else he supposed she could have gone. Coming up empty-handed, he had questioned Minerva and the few staff members he trusted not to gossip as to whether or not they had seen her. When that had gotten him nowhere, he had nearly sent for the giggle-headed Auror to track her down until he remembered Potter's blasted map.
It had practically taken the threat of strangling the Boy Wonder with his own intestines before the twit would produce it, but Severus had happened to spot her moving in the direction of their quarters. While he stalked back down to the dungeons, his panic quickly turned into rage, which had only worsened after her dismissive attitude.
And he had let that frustration and injured pride guide his actions toward her.
"You don't get to dictate what I do, or when or where or with whom I do it! I am not your property! I am not your prisoner! You don't own me."
Blowing out a heavy sigh, Severus moved to close the door and then collapsed into his chair. Leaning forward, he grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and tugged sharply. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Hermione's words echoed in his head as he considered his recent behavior. Everything he had done thus far – well, mostly everything – had been with her best interests in mind, but he had done it in an authoritarian manner. He was used to making decisions for his students and telling them what to do. Until two weeks ago, she had been his student and even now she was still a child under his care. He was responsible for her protection, and, as such, needed knowledge of her movements. But to just demand it from her? To lock her in their quarters until she told him?
"Women are tricky creatures, son. Best hold their reins tight, or they'll walk all over you."
Severus closed his eyes and covered his face. Two weeks he had been married, and already he was acting like his father. Apparently, it did not matter that he had never touched a drop of alcohol or that he had vowed to never raise a hand to his wife and children, should he ever be blessed with them. He still managed to treat her as though she was insignificant.
He wanted to believe that he would not have behaved so if the circumstances had been different – if she were not his student, if they were not under such scrutiny, if he legitimately cared for her – but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was destined to be abusive. He was with his students after all, and though he justified that because of his precarious position with the Death Eaters, he was a fool to think that he could be anything different in his private life.
Hermione deserved an apology; he knew that much. She deserved to be treated with more compassion. He told himself that he had been making an effort during the first week, but clearly the stress of teaching and the memories associated with the holiday had obliterated his better temperament.
Slouching against the back of his chair, Snape steepled his fingers against his chin and absently stared into the space beyond his desk.
"You and I are now equal, which means that if you expect me to answer to you, you had better expect to answer to me!"
The wizard was not certain that he was ready to consider them fully equal in the endeavor. She only had to deal with gossipy students and feigning love. He had to figure out how to convince his students and the public that he was madly in love, while still assuring the Order that he was not a complete pervert at the same time that he had to keep the Dark Lord from thinking that he cared too much for the 'filthy, little Muggle'.
That being said, he did recognize how much she had sacrificed for the charade – her reputation, her education, her future. Furthermore, he remembered how angry he would have been to have anyone tell him what to do at her age. Eighteen – legally an adult, but still reckless and impetuous like a child. She had hidden away somewhere without thinking about the possible consequences of her actions beyond that it would irritate him. He had fallen for the empty promises of a sociopath, allowed himself to be branded like a slave, and destroyed any chance he had for happiness.
I couldn't manage myself at eighteen, and I can hardly do so now. How the fuck am I to manage her? Groaning, Severus ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face. When he finally trusted himself to remain calm while being screeched at by his wife, he slid out of his chair and returned to his quarters.
Merlin, I hope it's screeching, and not tears. What the hell do I do then?
"Ah ah ah! You stop right there, young man."
Snape paused in front of the Slytherin tapestry to look up at the new addition to the sitting room wall. "What?"
Caitriona straightened in her gilded chair. "Even if the chit was in there, you shouldn't be. Not as things stand presently."
"What do you mean 'even if she was in there'?"
"She left."
"She left?"
"I did not take you for an idiot, boy," the portrait muttered. "My sister was exceptionally intelligent. I am certain at least some of it ought to have trickled down into that head of yours. Even if you are half-Muggle."
Severus rolled his eyes and cursed Albus for having managed to procure – and quite gleefully, at that – a portrait that was distantly related to him. "Perhaps, you might consider telling me where she went."
"I might."
He glared and crossed his arms. "Lady Selwyn, tell me where my wife went."
The painted witch adjusted her skirts before shrugging. "Through the Floo."
"For god sake, woman! I will fetch the turpentine!"