Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling

Hermione woke to the feeling of light washing over her face. Behind her closed eyelids, she could sense that morning had arrived, the day she had been dreading had begun. Tempted to remain blinded to the reality of what was to come, she hesitated before slowly exposing her caramel eyes to the view she knew would greet her out of her large, ornate bedroom window. With a sigh, she pulled herself from the warmth and comfort of her bed to greet the perfectly framed landscape outside. She pulled on her silk robe, more for sentiment than warmth and wrapped it around herself as if it could protect her from the tasks of the day, and walked to her window to greet the day, as she had for the last eight years.

Moving aside the emerald drapes, she could see the hundreds of acres belonging to the estate under the haze of a cold, grey day. Her eyes moved about the view, inventorying her home as she had so many times before. The stables to the left, about two kilometres away, the large pond to the right, where she had enjoyed hundreds of long evening walks. Her eyes lingered, knowing that this would be goodbye for now, and placed her forehead on the glass despite the November chill, breathing in the smell of her bedroom, her home with a mix of grief and gratitude. Her thoughts were interrupted with a knock at the door.

A maid entered the room with reverence, knowing the sensitive nature of the days events. "Madam," she said with shaky breath and concerned eyes, "will you be taking breakfast in the drawing-room this morning? Or would you prefer I bring it to ya now?". With a small smile, Hermione dragged herself from her window, relieved to have a distraction. With a mischievous smile, she said "I suppose I will take it in here this morning Silvy, thank you. The library has been warded for storage so there is not much point eating in the drawing-room. I only did so to keep food away from the books so I could grab a bite in-between volumes." With grave understanding, the maid nodded and began to retreat. "Silvy?" Hermione questioned, while the maid stopped her exit and replied "Yes Madam?". "When will they arrive to collect us?" The heroine asked. The maid took a breath before answering, "shortly, Madam, within the hour". Nodding her understanding, Hermione thanked the woman, dismissing her to complete the remaining items on their list before they arrived.

Screwing her courage to the sticking place, Hermione dug deep through her heavy emotions to shower and dress before emerging from the bedroom a short time later. Such small things were taking so much out of her, it is to be expected she supposed, after the events of the last year. Many, including her doctors, thought it a miracle she was still walking and breathing. She marched down the corridor of the massive estate as a woman walking to the hangman's noose. Memories like ghosts followed her down the hall as she passed the many rooms in the so-called "family" wing. She had always pictured one day walking these halls reprimanding her small children, while secretly encouraging their wants to play. The ghosts of what would never be turned into black shadows, deepened by the sorrow of her losses. She passed the closed doors sculpted with Griffins quickly, although she never loitered there after the events of March, she could certainly not afford to dwell on them today.

The portraits, which she once longed to be silent, looked down on her with pity and well wishes, as she broke out into a slow run down the perfectly carpeted halls, making way for the grand staircase, she wished with all of her might that they would send an insult her way, any comment that would remind her of her status in this great place, to send her back in time before all of this.

Too soon she stood at the pinnacle of the staircase. Not realizing that she had arrived so quickly, she took a moment to catch her breath. As Hermione scanned the grand entrance and foyer to her home, she noticed Silvy strutting from the kitchens with her small suitcase in hand and a muffler in the other, looking up at Hermione, waiting for something appropriate sounding to occur to her without success. With a warm smile, Hermione noted the maid's items and was glad that she had gifted the suitcase to Silvy with an undetectable extension charm. Surely that would have come in handy, she thought, given all of the smaller items Silvy needed to help her move. Perhaps then, I am not as useless as I thought Hermione chided herself.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Both women's thoughts were interrupted and swiftly moved to the 30 ft doors marking the entrance to the estate. The knocking, more of a pound, startled both of the women until Silivy was moved into action. "Alright, alright, keep ya knickers on, I'm com'n." The comment was enough to spark a small moment of humour and laughter in Hermione, an anesthetic for what she knew awaited her on the other side of the pounding on the door.

The door opened revealing a team of no less than six men, impeccably dressed in tailored black robes, with the Emerald and gold emblem of the house they worked for resting against their hearts. A tall, lanky man with a wonderful mustache stepped forward, "we 'ere to collect any belongings you and your lady weren't able to pack, given the short time'n of it 'n all." With an offended stutter, Silvy said: "do you truly think such a brilliant which such as my mistress, incapable of pack'n a few nick nacks? She helped defeat the dark lord for the love of Christ!".Realizing the man was out of his depth, he raised both hands in surrender of the sultry maid. "Begg'n your pardon miss, but it is a big house, we assumed you would be bringing more than nick nacks. This is meant to be a permanent move after all."

Hermione only just realizing she had yet to move from the top of the stairs, spurred herself into action, making her way to the mid staircase landing. "You are correct sir, however, many of the items in this home have lived here for hundreds of years. They will not be pulled from their place on account of my inabilities." With a sympathetic look, the lanky man moved into a bow, inspiring the other men to do the same. "Begg'n your pardon as well mistress, I didn't see you there. We only wish to help." Hermione stalled on the landing, noticing the long caravan of carriages sitting outside the entrance of her home, the reality hitting her full force for the first time. She was leaving. With a far-out look in her eyes she said: "Of course Wilford, you are too generous to come here with your brothers to help us. I am sure that today is supposed to be your day off, and yet you have come to assist us." This seemed to calm the man as he beamed at her grateful to be understood.

With a small commotion, the men began to shuffle out of the way to make way for a taller, darker figure. Wilford stepped aside with a dramatic bow to let the man pass, and upon seeing him, Silvy dipped into a respectful curtsey. The figure casually removed his gloves as he gazed across the grand entrance, scanning the space until his eyes landed on the elegantly, if not warmly dressed Hermione. Noticing the blush on her cheeks from her walk, and the way she seemed fixed in place, the man took stock of the situation quickly. When the man spoke his words echoed throughout the great hall, "Wilford, would you kindly take Miss Silvia to one of your carriages, and ensure that she is settled, the journey is long and the weather will certainly not co-operate, that is always the way of these things."

With Wilford and his brothers whipping into shape, Silvy risked a quick glance to her mistress. With a kind nod, Hermione dismissed her for the second time this morning, leaving her standing paralyzed on the middle landing of the stairs and the man standing at the base. This man, who although brilliant, kind-hearted, and so very generous, was at the same time the embodiment of the Grimreaper for the life that she knew, the life she had built over the last eight years. In the same moment, she knew that he was both here to save her from a life of ruin, while also taking her to a life where she would no longer be the lady of the house. She would be a second wife, technically a third. She would have to live as a subordinate to his existing family and learn a whole new life all over again. She and Silvy would be safe, warm and cared for, but the heroin would have to accept a disastrous fall from grace. Each of them knew that when she descended the stairs, she would also be descending into a place in society lower even than when she entered Hogwarts as a so-called mudblood.

He seemed to acknowledge the significance of the moment and bowed his head to allow her some privacy as she took the first steps in her fall from a brilliant and independent witch. The wizarding world after the defeat of the dark lord would not allow her to be herself as it worked to recenter. Independent women were too dangerous, given the required task of repopulating wizarding Britain. Although none would ever admit it, the man knew that women like Hermione would be bought and sold like a broodmare on the marriage market, if not for the inheritance laws that brought them to this moment. As she left the last step, he righted himself to his full height and reached out his ungloved hands. With sorrow in his heart and the weight of the responsibility he inherited when he accepted Hermione as his next wife, he took her smaller hand in his and brushed her knuckles with his lips in a formal greeting. When their eyes met, it was with understanding and compassion on both sides. When he released her hand they both silently agreed to get to the business at hand.

"Madam Malfoy."

"Master Snape."