Drinking over-fermented wine and writing SSHG...
Arnold Sourfox, her loathed supervisor, jerked out of his chair. "You are beyond late, Miss—" He froze. "Granger…?"
Hermione let the twitch of a smirk play on her lips. She knew exactly what—or rather who—had the man tongue-tied.
Severus stepped into the wizard's office, only half a beat behind her. His face was set in grim lines, his eyes dark and every inch of him buttoned into black wool. Power shrouded him. He was deliciously intimidating.
She had had trouble letting him out of the front door that morning...
"Madam Snape."
Severus growled her new title and Arnold blanched. Then blinked.
Oh… Was he in on the deal to foster the new, perfect, male-run wizarding world via her unwanted joining with Ron? Her dislike of the man went up another notch.
"Madam…?" Arnold sank back into his plush chair, the velvet stretching and straining. He gaped. "But…"
Hermione dropped the fiercely red envelope onto his desk. It wasn't a howler, but, well, the thought was there. "My long overdue resignation, Supervisor Sourfox, for you to read at your leisure." She gave the foul little man a snippy smile and pointed back to the door. "I'll just clean out my desk."
Arnold erupted from his chair. "You cannot for one minute think that you can get away—"
Severus stood beside her and simply...folded his arms. Arnold gulped and sank back down again. Her husband huffed. "We are done. Madam Snape owes nothing more to the Ministry."
Arnold's mouth opened and closed. And it was obvious that the very second they left his plush office, he'd have his head in the fireplace and floo-calling the troops. It was a confrontation from which she didn't intend to run.
As Severus would say: fuck them.
"Here they come."
It was a low rumble as Hermione sorted through the stacks and boxes on her desk, hunting for everything that was solely hers.
She looked up and her gaze narrowed on Arnold, and some Ministry flunkies, the Minister, and oh, look, Ron crowding into her little office.
"What's he doing here!"
Ron blustered, his face mottled red, his chin up and lips pulled down. Was he feeling brave with the Minister and his surrounding flunkies? He'd put this bloody deal to them and they'd agreed with it. Kingsley should never have stepped aside, especially with this McLaggan moron simply itching to grasp at power.
But Kingsley was an honourable wizard.
Unlike her very ex boyfriend.
"Severus is an upstanding member of wizarding Britain, and as such has every right to be in the Ministry. And," Hermione favoured Ron with her best and most snippiest smile —the utter git, "as my husband, he has kindly offered to help me pack up my things."
She gave Severus a softer and much more treacle-laden smile. His own lips twitched, but he returned her look with an elegant nod. "It is my pleasure, dearest."
Oh, that was pure dark silk. Hermione pressed a hand over her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. "You really are quite lovely."
A heavy silence followed, broken only by some strange and strangled gurgling escaping Ron.
"You cannot be married."
The Minister shook his head and his wand flicked the air. Severus shifted to a blur of black wool and Hermione was pressed to his back, his free arm tight around her. His wand was out and the blister of a curse already heated the air.
Jerolin blinked and the revealing spell flittered to little spits of magic. "Snape—"
"You will not cast unknown magic over my wife."
It was a low growl that throbbed through Hermione's chest and, there, right there, the dark little thrill of Severus putting all of his considerable power to defending her. And Merlin, it'd been a whole three hours since they'd last seen to any...practicalities. What with all those quite-lovely buttons…
Severus' hand flexed against her spine. She focused and eased around him, her fingertips playing over warm wool. Her husband slid her a dark, amused look before he fixed a cold eye on the wizard before him.
He lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"
Jerolin spluttered. "A revealing spell, Snape."
"Master Snape...Minister."
And he made the title sound like thestral shit.
Severus smirked, something dark and twisted, and every wizard to a man took a step back, stumbling back into the door, its frame and tiled walls. The power of him was almost…tangible. "Your contract with my wife is null and void." He held out his hand and Hermione yanked the thick scroll from her bag and, with a flourish that had Ron muttering, placed it on his waiting palm. "As you can see."
A moment later, the staccato barks of gobbledegook wound around the parchment, mixing with the hiss of magic and smoke. Spidering cracks chased over the skin and ash rose, twisting, churning…vanishing.
"Impossible!" The Minister jerked forward and met the tip of Severus' wand to his throat. He rocked back on his heels. "You can't threaten me—"
"Where is the threat, Minister?" Hermione lifted her eyebrows in mock innocence. "My husband is simply ensuring that our most valued politician comes to no harm. Who knows what will spark from a thoroughly dissolving contract?"
"You aren't married!" Ron was a dangerous level of mottled puce now. It was a disturbing combination with the carrot orange of his hair. "Minister. Jerolin, you said that nothing could bind—"
The Minister slashed his hand and hissed.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Nothing could bind me under the magic of the Ministry, perhaps? Or only bind me to him." She spat out the word and glared at Ron. He lifted his chin in return. He was supposed to be a masterful chess player. Couldn't he see in this match his King was being kicked in the balls by the opposing Queen? "Your plans for me are done. Over with. I am no longer a Bought Witch. And your other plans? For witches? Oh, you will regret those, gentlemen." She pinned each wizard with a glare. "You will."
"You and him?" Ron sneered as he jerked his chin at Severus. "You're no threat."
The final motes of ash drifted away on little eddies of air. Severus closed his hand into a fist and he huffed a laugh. "Tell that to Voldemort."
Every wizard blanched. At the name, or the reminder of exactly who they were, Hermione didn't know. And frankly didn't care. By the end of the year, they would be ruined and every witch, every single one, would know of the plan these men-and others-had to…subjugate them. Anger tightened her belly, but she willed it back. She had no intention of showing their hand. No, their money, their plot was quite, quite secret. Let the gits scramble to work out how they'd circumvented the airtight contract.
She shrank her things and pocketed them. "I'm ready to go, Severus."
He ran a cleaning spell over his hand and offered it to her. Long, warm fingers threaded through hers and the power of him, of their bond hummed through her flesh. Hours. Hours since practicalities...
"Don't think you're walking away from me—"
Ron jerked onto his toes, Hermione's wand under his chin. "This is not over, Ronald Weasley. Not for a second."
"Minister, she's threatening—"
"Master Snape." Jerolin greased his way forward, a sly turn to his mouth. Oh, did he think he could draw Severus to his side now. Foul tick of a man.
"Minister. Remove yourself from our path." Severus' voice dropped to little more than a spike of ice. "Now."
Jerolin paled and took a long back step. But his mouth had thinned and pale eyes fixed on her, sharp with loathing.
"And direct such a look at my wife again, Minister, and I will boil your eyeballs in your skull."
"You cannot—"
Severus leaned in, towering over the other man. His long, black hair swung forward and his low voice was velvet whisper. "You will find that I can. And I will." He straightened and looked to her, as if the...promise had never been uttered. "You're ready to leave this place, my dear?"
Hermione grinned at him. Resigning with Severus Snape was oh-so-much fun. "I am."
He waved his hand and the wizard scattered and clattered from their path. Hermione led the way out into the dark-tiled corridor, the itch there on her spine of having enemies at her back…but she trusted her own skill. And Severus'.
Every step away in the magic-wrapped silence beat in her blood. They were in her abandoned office, plotting, scheming. Bitter and angry. Dangerous-
Her wrist burned and she jerked, snatching at her wand. "What…?"
"Hermione?"
A shield wrapped around them in a rush of fierce magic and he pulled her to him, his wand arm ready.
But she was staring at her wrist.
"Severus…?"
He looked to her, a frown pulling at his mouth. His eyes narrowed. Had his name sounded as breathless as she felt? She lifted her wrist in the gloom of the empty corridor and a line of gold shone there.
As they'd been squabbling in her old office, she'd well, she'd conceived.