Thanks for all the reviews, faves and follows. Over 400 reviews now. Whee!
I've only one chapter written after this one, so updates will slow again. I am working exclusively on Ribboned -well almost. Evil marriage law bunny *shoo*
"It says right here, Arthur." There was the slap of a hard palm against paper and wood. "Right here, that her wearing of the ribbon is a complete lie."
Hermione held down a groan. Mrs Weasley's strident voice echoed down the hallway from the kitchen. She was already on a rampage and it wasn't even six o'clock. Severus growled and it forced a wry smile. "I don't understand her." She wondered if the others had managed to drag anything out of Mrs Weasley when the fight had erupted on Saturday. It was doubtful. Remus would have owled. And she had heard nothing from him. "What's so important about me?"
"I think we should settle that now. I've grown tired of her madness."
Severus took her hand and led the way towards the kitchen. Hermione's stomach was in a knot, but his strong hold, the firm grip of his fingers, eased some of the tension. Having Severus Snape in your corner was a heady feeling indeed.
The softly lit kitchen was empty but for the elder Weasleys. They'd obviously had an early dinner as the stove and oven were cold and no dishes sat on the draining board. A deliberate act? So that she wouldn't share an evening meal with the family? Molly Weasley had a firm handle on spite.
"Good evening, Molly." Severus slapped his copy of the Evening Prophet on the table in front of the ranting woman. "Skeeter's lies have been retracted."
Mr Weasley looked up from pouring tea. "I heard you were busy at the Ministry today, Severus."
The Potions Master snorted a laugh and gave one of his elegant shrugs. "I had a little spare time, and matters needed to be…dealt with."
Mrs Weasley muttered something under her breath, her gaze averted from the newspaper Severus had put before her. She frowned as her attention flittered over their joined hands. Red topped her cheeks. "This isn't right." She glared at Severus, her lips thinning. With Ron gone, this sort of explosion had been inevitable. "She wasn't meant for you."
A wicked little smile lifted his mouth and Hermione fought not to react, though her belly tightened. She was lucky that he had leashed his sensual nature at Hogwarts. Merlin knew, she would've got no work done. None at all.
His smile deepened. "It's my pleasure to guide her on this path."
Hermione's breath caught. His voice was velvet and sin, imbuing the innocent words with a decadence they should not have. Her arm was stiff, denying how she wanted to tighten her grip on his hand. A hand that had teased her breast, played with her nipple until it ached…
Severus pulled her close and she half-squeaked. He set his large hands on her shoulders as he made her face Mrs Weasley. But he was at her back, a tall and solid wall of dark power and muscle. His head dipped, his loose hair brushing against her temple. "And it's been my honour to teach her."
Hermione's eyes fluttered. And obviously Mrs Weasley replaced that stressed word with another much more inappropriate one. It broke what little control the witch had on her temper.
"This…this travesty can still be broken. I'll appeal to the Wizengamot. To Kingsley. She was not yours to take. She was Ron's. Ron needs her. Without her the curse—"
She slapped her hand to her mouth and staggered away from the table. Mr Weasley was on his feet, his face white. Not with shock, but with the start of anger.
"Curse? What curse?" The sensual edge had vanished from Severus' voice.
"The Prewett curse." Mr Weasley bit out. He glared at his wife. "You risked Hermione through the end of the war because of that, that…rubbish?" Other harsher words had burned on his tongue, Hermione could almost feel them in the air. "Are you insane, woman?"
"Ron is my youngest son. Granny Prewett took me aside when he was born. She said the curse was upon him."
"The Granny Prewett who ended up in the Janus Thickey Ward after spelling herself insensible because she was convinced herself she was a Hungarian Horntail? She was unstable at best. Dangerous at worst. As we can see."
"The curse is real. And only the blood of a virgin muggle-born can lift it."
Hermione stared, stunned. It was too horrible to believe. "Is that why Ron made up those lies about me? To convince you the curse was gone?" Her heart turned over. In that moment, she almost felt sorry for Ron. Almost. "You've made him think he's cursed for all these years?"
Great gods, it explained Mrs Weasley's fury in the Fourth Year at the Prophet's scandalous revelations. The prospect of the virgin who would cure her son escaping her.
"What does this curse supposedly do?" Severus was a rock, a firm touch of calm in the insanity of the kitchen.
Mr Weasley huffed out a breath. "It addles the brain, weakens magic." His hard stare was on his wife again. "It was a Malfoy invention in the seventeenth century. A way to deny betrothal between a Prewett son and a precious Malfoy daughter. But Molly's great grandmother ran with it. Fed it down though her daughters and their daughters, to be on the look out for this line-weakening curse."
"And the Malfoys suggested the solution?" Severus' smile was wry. "In an attempt to weaken the Prewett pureblood status, thus ensuring their supremacy."
"Exactly." Mr Weasley caught his fingers in this thinning hair. "Severus, can I request that Ron be allowed home? If his mother has been feeding them these lies..." He sighed. "The boy must be terrified."
Severus gave him a curt nod. "He must understand that Hermione is not to be bothered by any more attention. Friends, yes, but for the duration of our bond, nothing more."
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. That was not his decision to make. Well, the Ron returning and the being more then friends was…but about her agreeing to being friends with Ron…
She almost groaned. Even in her head that sounded petty. It was the…high-handedness that irked. A light squeeze on her shoulder brought her attention back.
"Hermione has agreed that it's best she not remain here."
"You don't…" Mr Weasley began.
"It was a decision we made this morning, Arthur." Severus twitched a brief smile, but that fell away when he looked to Mrs Weasley. "You almost destroyed two lives with this ridiculous belief. What would you have done when your son didn't change? Would you have broken the relationship and tried again. And again?"
Her mouth had thinned. She obviously still saw herself in the right. Poor Ron. At least he would have his father's support now. Hermione was simply relieved that it would no longer be her problem. "I should pack."
"Call if you need help."
She nodded and made herself walk calmly from the tension-thick kitchen. In the dark quiet of the stairs, she leant against the bannister and pushed out a long, slow breath.
The muggle part of her railed against the fact that Mrs Weasley could believe her son was cursed. The insanity of it. But this was the magical world and Molly Weasley was a pureblood. It was perfectly possible that some dark witch or wizard could curse a line. She was a mother doing what she felt was right to save her son. And maybe –a remote maybe— if Mrs Weasley had expressed her fears, told her of her worries…
Hermione shuddered at the thought of sleeping with Ron in the ultimate form of a pity fuck. Perhaps they could be friends again. Or not? It twisted her stomach tight to think that he'd only started a friendship with the prospect of eventually sleeping with her. Had that always been at the back of his mind?
Pushing down the hideous thought, she took to the stairs. There wouldn't be much to pack and she wanted to be out of Grimmauld Place as soon as possible.
Certainly before Ronald Weasley returned from Romania.
Hermione was grateful for the change of clothes, a loose set of light robes -–Gret's design from the strong feel of the magic— and to sit at a quiet dinner table. No fights, no inane quidditch chatter, no grabbing what food you could before a bottomless Weasley stomach almost snapped her fingers fighting for the last roast potato…
Severus was watching her over his wine glass, one of those dark little smiles lighting his mouth. "Enjoying the quiet?"
"And not having to count my fingers before I leave the table."
"Hogwarts and the Weasleys haven't prepared you for wizarding dinners." He looked to the table. "The cutlery will be as you see it, only one place setting. It's considered vulgar to follow the muggle example." He shrugged. "And with magic, it's easy enough to whisk more in."
He lifted his glass. "Your glass is always spelled to refill. Take only sips. There will always be water on the table."
The first course appeared, a wide dish of roasted scallops, vegetables and some marine creature she couldn't identify. It smelt heavenly.
He lifted an eyebrow. "When should you start?"
Hermione had worked her way through the desperately long and desperately boring etiquette book. "Depending on the event, not until the host does. Unless there's a Malfoy and they decide whether they should start or the host." She rolled her eyes. "It's little wonder Draco was such a insufferable…" She met Severus' gaze and her cheeks flushed. "Well this deference to the Malfoys. It's obscene."
"The Malfoys are powerful and wealthy. They also have the purest bloodline in the wizarding world."
Hermione snorted. "Didn't we just fight –and win— a war over that?"
Severus mouth was pursed, but his eyes shone with humour. "We did. The Malfoys don't exercise these traditions, but everyone –everyone— is aware of them. That is the important lesson." He shook his head. "I asked Albus, year in and year out, to offer something to the muggle-borns and less aware half bloods to help ease them into their new world. He saw it as bowing to Riddle."
He sighed. "But this tradition was around long before him. We are magical beings. Powerful magical beings. We need structure and firm law, or it all falls to chaos."
He picked up his knife and fork. Hermione followed him. "Most dinners follow this pattern. Sometimes the food will be served a la francaise, which mirrors the Weasley's free-for-all." He winced. "Thankfully those are rare."
"You mentioned a list of events." Hermione risked a cut of the unidentified sea creature and found it oddly chewy. "Are there lots?"
"We're booked till after New Year. So far. Your introductory ball is this Saturday, at Malfoy Manor."
The fork froze on the way to her mouth. Focusing everything she had, she rested her cutlery on her plate. "Severus, I was…I was tortured there." She pressed her lips together and couldn't stop her fingers finding the words carved one her arm. "And they all –Lucius, Narcissa, Draco— watched while Bellatrix Lestrange cut me and crucio'd me. Watched as Greyback pawed…"
Severus was kneeling before her and holding her in tight, tight arms. The scent of him surrounded her and eased the ache in her chest. "I am with you." His words burned against her ear. "You are a ribboned-witch under my protection. I will not fail you."
"And I don't want to make you look like a fool." She reluctantly drew back from him and he wiped away her tears. Her heart twisted. Did he lavish such attention on all his witches? Or was it a part of being a Mentoris? It was addictive either way. "I will be better."
He offered a short smile and climbed to his feet. He brushed at his creased trousers. "There are several ministry events –unavoidable, I'm sorry— and more private house parties. In total so far, sixeen."
She settled herself before her place again, his quick return to their diary easing her nerves. "Where will we be at Christmas?"
He sat and took a sip of his wine. "I left that day free. It's yours to decide."
She looked to her abandoned plate and picked up her knife and fork again. She wanted to say she'd love to spend a quiet Christmas with him, in this flat. But she had no idea what his plans where. Or had been before she took over his life. "What are your plans?"
"I have no plans."
Her heart was in her throat and she wet dry lips. "May I, may I stay here with you? And possibly make a flying visit to the Burrow? I'd like to be somewhere warm and comfortable and quiet this year."
Severus willed himself to nod.
The girl was inching into every corner of his life. His thumb stroked the underside of the ring on his little finger. He'd blame throwing his arms around her on this piece of spelled metal.
Her terror had rioted over him and his thought was only to find her and protect her. To battle and slay her dragons. And now she'd invaded his Christmas day. A day he would sit and get drunk and curse the world.
Oh, how his day would be spoiled by having to endure the company of a clever, pretty little witch instead.
He watched her over his glass. She hadn't argued against going to the Malfoy house. No, she'd pulled in her courage and promised to be better. Fuck, he hadn't known. And the Malfoys had said not one word about it as they enjoyed grabbing the first social outing of the new ribboned-witch.
Severus would be having words.
He focused his attention on Hermione. "After dinner, I will see how well you dance."
Hermione beamed at him, looking as if he'd offered her the moon. His heart tightened. In March, she would be gone, run off on the arm of another more worthy man. Fuck, it had only been days. Days. He wanted this growing…obsession to be a result of the magic that held them. Needed it. Otherwise, how the hell was he going to let her go?
I love reviews :)