*Chapter 2*: The Ceremony
Hermione stood in front of a full-length mirror frowning at what she saw. Her light-colored wedding robes swished around her ankles as Lavender Brown paced behind her, rubbing her arms.
"I don't understand, Hermione," said Lavender. "It's weird."
"He has just as much freedom as anybody to take a wife," answered Hermione as she leaned towards the mirror and swabbed light blue eye shadow over her eyelids.
"You know what she means," said Parvati Patil. "He's a teacher!"
Hermione rustled through a makeup case and pulled out her mascara. "I don't mean to be a criminal. Or have my memory modified to make me more obedient. They could give me to Goyle. Or Ollivander."
"You might like making wands!" Lavender said desperately.
"I've had one conversation with the man, and I was eleven!" Hermione said, scandalized.
Parvati shook her head, incapable of coming up with another solution. A gentle tap came from the doorway.
"Come in," Hermione called out. Professor McGonagall came in, accompanied by Ginny Weasley.
"I see you're well," McGonagall said cautiously, as if expecting Hermione to break into uncontrollable sobbing.
"I'm fine," Hermione said.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. She had dressed in pale blue robes and clutched a bundle of pink and white wildflowers.
"I'm glad you'll be in the ceremony, Ginny," said Hermione.
What she was bothered about was whether Ginny wanted to be her friend or not.
"Don't worry about me," Ginny said dismissively. "What should worry you is your father."
"My father- My parents are here?" Hermione gasped.
"Of course," McGonagall said bitterly. "The Ministry owled them."
"He's shouting at Snape. He's furious!" Ginny said, eyebrows raised.
"I've got to stop this." Hermione started out of the room.
"Nonsense," McGonagall said directing her back to the mirror. "Dumbledore will break it up when he's convinced it's gone on too long."
Hermione turned back to her makeup case. She drew out tweezers and shaped her eyebrows.
"Your things will be moved for you," McGonagall said stiffly.
"Moved?" Hermione asked bewilderedly. "To where?"
"Your new husbands' quarters," said McGonagall with a sour expression. "You will be married."
"Of course," Hermione said hollowly.
Oh, God, please no…
True, he kept her away from the Death Eaters, and Mr. Ollivander, who she would never again look at in the same way, but he didn't have to make this pleasant for her. Living with him was bound to be awful.
"It's time for the ceremony, Hermione," Ginny said. "We should get moving."
Parvati lifted a lace veil out of a case and fastened it to Hermione's soft curls.
"You'll be great," Parvati said cautiously. "Don't be so terrified. I'm sure he has redeemable qualities-"
"What?" snapped Lavender. "Name one!"
"I'm ready," Hermione said, ignoring them.
Ginny opened the door and the group of ladies marched to the Great Hall where Hermione's betrothed waited for her.
Hermione stood behind Ginny as faint music tinkled. Ginny hugged her before walking through the double doors clutching her flowers tightly.
Hermione's father appeared beside Hermione and caught her arm. He stood shorter than her, his silver hair gleaming in the candlelight.
"He'll protect you," remarked her father gruffly. "From what I understand he's one of their best agents. They're relocating us to France tonight for our protection."
"I'm sorry it came to this," she apologized.
"Me too." Hermione heard the tension in his tone.
"Dad, it'll be fine." Hermione hugged him.
Her father rubbed his eyes with a handkerchief and gazed at her.
"You're lovely," he said straightening her veil. "I expected you would be. Just not so soon."
"Thanks." She took his arm, and they began the slow journey up to the platform at the front of the Great Hall.
The long tables had moved to surround the room where presents and food awaited them. The long benches were arranged to observe the ceremony.
The crowd was full of Ministry officials, teachers, people she didn't know, and nearly the entire student body. Many of them—mostly girls—looked horrified. Some whispered gossip among themselves. Harry nodded encouragingly. Ron looked green.
She could see Snape as she drew near the front of the hall. He wore a high collared tunic and black long coat. A burgundy ascot lay at his throat and a white flower fastened to his coat. His raven hair was caught behind his neck with a white silk ribbon.
Hermione felt faint, and she looked at the long carpet. Her father put her hand in Snape's and a Ministry representative chanted the binding spell. Hermione heard herself repeat the proper words at the proper moment and the book was closed, concluding the service. She didn't even pay attention to what she agreed to. She felt numb.
Nothing prepared her for his lips on hers. They were warm. The pressure startled her. She hadn't been paying attention.
Snape drew back and frowned. Then he turned away and caught her sleeve. He strode down the aisle, dragging her behind him. They left the Great Hall, and he led her to the dungeons.
"Aren't we going to eat?" Hermione squeaked.
"There is food in my rooms," snapped Snape. "Didn't you see who was present?"
"Not everyone," admitted Hermione, inwardly admonishing herself for not being more alert.
"There were wizards I wouldn't put past slipping potions into the food," Snape growled.
"Veritaserum?" Hermione asked as a portal behind a statue of a large stone fish opened.
"Or worse," said Snape bitterly, stepping into their new quarters.
A short table was loaded with plates and pots of food. It sat between a black velvet squishy couch and a stone fireplace. The walls were lined with books and two small windows overlooked the lake.
"I wish I would have gotten to say good-bye to my parents." Hermione watched as the portal shrank and cut them off from the rest of the world.
"Your parents were told I would take you away. Somebody will deliver them here."
"I understand my father gave you a terrible time."
"Nothing surprising. Your rooms are in here," he said, stepping to a portrait of a sleeping black kitten. He meowed at it and the image stretched and rose. "Emicoatus."
Your rooms. Relief.
The kitten yawned, and its mouth grew broader. So broad in fact that it appeared to spread over the canvas. The wide grin stretched the stone frame and the color faded away. When the transformation was complete, it was an arched doorframe that revealed sleeping chambers.
"Who came up with this?" Hermione asked, astonished. She had done a research project on castle charms and had never come across anything like it.
"Helga Hufflepuff," said Snape, stiffly. "Supposedly these were her quarters."
The dark burgundy and gold she was accustomed had been replaced with a rich midnight blue and decorated with silver trim.
"A house-elf took it upon himself to make certain it met his specifications," Snape said, quirking an eyebrow.
Dobby. Hermione winced. "I hope he wasn't much bother."
"I wouldn't have considered as many details had he not been involved. It made a smoother transition."
Hermione looked around the room. There were large windows overlooking the lake, and a small table and chair underneath. A heavy wardrobe was waiting for her clothing and there was a desk for her to work on. Then there was the bed. The structure was wrought iron with silver vines spread over it, twining up into the fabric of the canopy. The bedspread was velvet, and such a deep blue it was virtually black. Crookshanks was purring merrily in the center of it.
"Well, you've made yourself at home," Hermione said to him.
Crookshanks yawned widely and dragged himself to his feet. A pool of long ginger hair remained where he was sleeping. He padded over and butted her hand with his head.
Hermione turned back to Snape, and he pointed out her lavatory. I was formed from a single piece of granite. The charmed ceiling looked like the sky. The bathtub was hollowed out stone. Water flowed from a diminutive waterfall coming out of the wall. Small ferns and wildflowers sprang up in little hollows of soil deposited in the rock. Her bathroom things were set up on rock shelves surrounding a mirror above a sculptured stone bowl. Celtic knot work flowed around the mirror and sink.
"Why aren't you using it?"
"I don't believe bathing should be an out-of-doors experience," he sniffed imperiously.
Hermione looked at the openmouthed frog fixtures and wondered how they worked. A gentle knock echoed from the central chamber.
"I believe your parents are here." Snape shuddered.
Snape walked to the parlor and opened the portal. Dumbledore walked through, and it closed.
"Would you like some food, Headmaster?" Hermione asked respectfully, wondering where her parents were.
"Thank you," said Dumbledore walking over to a tea service Hermione had not noticed on a cart near one wall. He poured himself a cup of tea and filled his plate from food on the table. "Your parents will not be accompanying us. Your father disregarded the warning to abstain from food and drink."
"What happened?" Hermione paled.
"Nothing significant," Dumbledore assured them. "He ate a prototype. I assure you, he will be fine in a few days."
"A Weasley Wizard Wheezes prototype?" Snape asked, his expression turning stony.
"Well, doesn't all this food look delicious!" Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"What happened?" asked Hermione, her tone relieved. "I'm assuming it was just a shape-changing charm."
"Shrinking," said Dumbledore.
"How big is he?" Snape asked, reaching for a turkey leg. He plucked at it with his fingers.
"Mouse," Dumbledore said.
Hermione nodded. "How long until it wears off?"
"A week," Dumbledore said brightly. "Your mother was just saying he needed to take time off."
"Where is he now?" Hermione asked.
"St. Gabriel's in Paris. They'll take good care of him," Dumbledore reassured her.
"Mum left with him?" Hermione asked Dumbledore. He nodded as he drank his tea.
Hermione's stomach lurched. She was married, and she scarcely got to see her parents. She stared at the table of food.
"Eat." Snape frowned at her.
Hermione put meat and fruit on her plate.
"Well," said Dumbledore, placing his teacup down and slapping his palms together. "This has been a dramatic day. I expect you'll want to get some rest." He stood up and Snape led him to the door. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Professor," she replied. The portal shrunk behind him as he left. She was alone with Snape.
She pecked at her food and discovered how famished she was. She glanced up and realized Snape was cutting into a slab of vanilla frosted cake. It was decorated with tiny blue rosettes.
"What?" He asked sharply.
"It's only—"she began hesitantly. "That's my wedding cake."
"Do you want to help cut it?" Snape asked frowning.
"No," Hermione replied indignantly. "There's a month left until end of term, what will happen then?"
"We'll get our orders later," said Snape shoving some of his cake onto her plate. "For the interim, we kept you apart from undesirables."
"Mr. Ollivander is a Death Eater?" Hermione asked astonished.
"Gads, no," Snape snorted. "He's just a lecherous old man in need of a successor. Or two. Or a dozen."
Hermione shivered.
"In his defense, he is taken with your test scores and has marked your progress at Hogwarts, as he does with all who wield his wands. However, he wouldn't be able to provide the level of security that the Order could. Dumbledore also wanted to pair you with someone who wouldn't… make demands."
"How does he know anything about me?" Hermione asked, ignoring the last.
"You're Muggle-born and up for a marriage contract. Your picture and school records were sent to prospective matches," he said curtly.
Crookshanks padded into the room and jumped on the sofa between Snape and Hermione. Hermione stroked his coat, and he purred. He butted his flat orange face into Snape's hand. Snape scratched him behind the ears.
"I have scrolls to grade," Snape said firmly. Crookshanks purred louder and wriggled onto Snape's lap.
"Is he always this distracting?" Snape asked glaring at the content cat.
"Don't allow him onto your lap until after you're at your writing desk," answered Hermione. "Good night."
Hermione stepped through the stone archway to her rooms. It shrank, and the gilded frame reappeared in the parlor. The black cat completed his yawn and stretched. It purred contentedly.
The orange cat had other ways of getting around the castle, as all pets did, but it seemed content to harass him.
Snape turned to look upon the table of food. The house-elves would have it cleared up by the morning and he had papers to grade.
He glanced back at the picture of the black cat on the stone wall. His bride was in that room. He shook his body to ward off chills.
He scratched the purring cat in his lap. One day at a time. They had no alternative. The world could depend on it.