Thanks for the offers to help with Ribboned-Witch. The main stumble is the squeezing of lemons, which only time will help with ;-) The writing of the smexxy is difficult work right now. *sigh*
And a few of you guessed the nature of the kiss! :D
Thanks for all the faves, follows and reviews *huggles*
Chapter Two
Severus Snape sank back into his chair, put his booted feet up on the small table and let out a long sigh. He closed his eyes. The last of the foul little miscreants had been loaded onto the train and were no longer his responsibility. The weeks of summer stretched ahead of him. He had no one to answer to until the middle of August. Bliss.
The pupils of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry were their usual ill-behaved and hormone-riddled selves…but it had been a better year than last. A bark of laughter broke from him. "It'd have to be some form of dark apocalypse to be worse than my first year as Headmaster."
His voice dropped into the quiet of the Headmaster's round sitting room. And for a moment after, Severus let himself enjoy the absolute silence.
The Board of Governors had insisted on his return. Why he wasn't sure. He had a feeling that Minerva had a lot to do with it. And it also had a lot to do with her own guilt. She was giving him the chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his students. For them to head out into the world with a changed view of one Severus Tobias Snape. Potions Master. Death Eater. All round bastard.
He took a sip of his firewhiskey and let the smoky flavour linger on his tongue. Of course, now he was the Dark Hero. The Broken and Lonely Prince. And, with Harry bloody Potter, considered one of the most Eligible Bachelors in the Wizarding World.
A disbelieving huff of laughter escaped him. Him. Did witches not own eyes? He was as ugly as sin and twice as bitter.
He stared into his glass. No…the bitterness had dulled. A good year had eased it away. No torture, no debts to anyone or anything. The indescribable and wanted ease of being his own man.
Severus frowned. Almost. There was still that little niggle. Did he owe something to the Granger girl anymore? She'd saved him in the Shrieking Shack, come back for him, patched him up, shoved a bezoar down his throat and hauled him off to Poppy. His frown deepened. Had he paid that debt by brewing the Therapy of Myalo for her parents?
He prayed to whatever gods who cared to listen that it was so. Prayed hard.
She'd approached him at the start of spring term, calling out after him in the long, gargoyle-thick corridor before his office. He thought about a reprimand, something sour about docks and screeching fishwives…but he didn't. It'd been almost eight months since she'd more than likely saved his life…
A new leaf he told himself, and turned to face her. His mouth drew down. Pupils to him were stinking, self-obsessed horrors who had no desire to learn. They were anonymous. Faceless. But it was a Saturday morning, so the witch was out of uniform and the change in her caught him by surprise.
Miss Granger was an adult. Gone was the rake-thin, grubby girl who survived the war. Now, she was a curvy little witch with a wild burst of soft curls. But it was more than her unexpected beauty. Merlin, her magical aura almost trapped the breath in his chest…
Mortified, Severus shoved down the inappropriate reaction. She was still his student, regardless of the fact that –in a sane world— she would have left Hogwarts the summer before.
"Miss Granger?"
"Headmaster." Her cheeks pinked, and her gaze dropped from his. Yes, the insecurity of youth still held her. Her shoulders straightened and he could almost hear the fierce lecture to herself, telling her to face him, to brave it out. Ever the Gryffindor. "May I make an appointment with you? It concerns my…parents."
The bright spark faded from her eyes and the ludicrous ache to pull her into his arms, to comfort her burned through him. Bit so hard, he almost lurched forward.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't spoken to the girl since she pulled him from the Shack. Fuck, was this some form of debt?
"I'm free now, Miss Granger." Yes, get it over with now. His life would be his own again. "Would now suit?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
He waved her towards his office and cursed his manners as his gaze caught on the sweetest little arse in tight jeans he had ever seen. He almost groaned. Every ounce of his considerable self-discipline crushed his shameful thoughts. His pupil. She was his pupil…
In his sitting room, a fresh mouthful of firewhiskey burned down Severus throat. He'd hustled her out of his office with the bare minimum of information and worked hard to find something –anything— to break his obligation to her.
He'd left the two red vials in her room, with extensive notes of their method of brewing and the history of the ancient scroll that had presented him with the cure for her parents. He didn't want her seeking him out to sate her curiosity.
Severus had taken every opportunity to avoid her for the rest of her time at Hogwarts. Though he had felt her eyes on him more than once in the Great Hall. And he'd hated the heat that crawled over his skin. What sort of debt had he incurred? Or had the cure not worked for her parents, and he was still caught by her?
The fire flared green and Arthur's head broke through the flames. "Severus! Good, I caught you."
Severus winced at the other wizard's panicked voice. Yes, hadn't he just been congratulating himself on a quiet summer? One free of a certain little witch? Luck never ran with him, did it? He put his firewhiskey down and sat straight. It was hardly fitting to be so…slovenly before the acting-Minister for Magic. "How can I help you, Arthur?"
The wizard's head half turned back into the flames before his flickering face fixed on the Headmaster again. "It's something best not discussed in an open fireplace. Can we come through?"
"We?" He couldn't expect an answer to his question. His gut soured. His instincts were screaming. Severus waved his hand and pushed himself out of the warm comfort of his chair. "Come through, Minister."
Arthur gave him a tight smile before he jerked back and the flames flared tall in the blackened hearth. A moment later, the Minister stepped out of the high fireplace, his large hand tight around that of Miss Hermione Granger.
Severus blinked. Of course the gods weren't listening to him. When did they ever? He quashed the twists of unease that rioted in his gut and nodded his head in welcome. "Arthur. Miss Granger." His lips quirked upward. "Back so soon."
The girl's eyes flicked to him and away. Her cheeks were scarlet. What trouble had the little Gryffindor know-it-all fallen into now? Why had it brought her –so very unwelcome— to his hearth?
Severus urged them to a pair of plush couches set either side of a triptych of tall, narrow windows. A gently steaming teapot, cups and saucers, a jug of milk, a sugar pot and an assorted pile of biscuits appeared on the table that separated the couches. Arthur drew the unusually quiet Miss Granger down to sit. Severus followed.
In the strained silence, Severus poured the tea. He held down a wince as Arthur scooped five spoons of sugar into the delicate little cup. "How can I be of service?"
Severus put the teapot down and looked up, his eyebrow lifted. At the question, Arthur's brow furrowed and the red in Miss Granger's face deepened. Her cup rattled against the saucer.
Arthur pulled a tightly wrapped scroll from his robes. Miss Granger frowned at it as the Minister passed it to him. "But you said…"
The wizard's lips were pinched. "I didn't know. Until now. The scroll simply...appeared."
The parchment was warm under Severus' fingers, calluses catching on its smoothness. A ministerial seal fixed a golden ribbon. He traced it, feeling the magic. Something ancient… A scent rose. Indian Ink. And another, mixing the aroma of cracking open a new book with the softness of jasmine.
Severus stared at the scroll and a sudden weight fell in his gut. Amortentia. Fuck. Nothing good came with that benighted potion. He didn't look up. Didn't fix on Miss Granger. His Amortentia scents…and Arthur had dragged a young woman with him… No. No.
He knew what this was. No! A sharp pain lanced through his chest and he fought to keep his breathing even, his face passive. Not this. Not again.
"Open it, Severus."
Arthur's voice was soft, resigned and Severus closed his eyes. Fuck. "And…" His voice had cracked. He swallowed, hating that failure. "And if I don't?"
"It's a formality." Arthur let out a long breath. "We both know that."
Magic liked its little ceremonies. Still, what was done was done. Had always been so.
He split the seal with his thumb and a spiral of magic spilled over his skin, the identified scents deepening, thickening. He unrolled the parchment. And stared at her name. A woman meant for him. A woman –yet again— who would never be his. For a moment, he closed his eyes and forced walls around the old pain until his mind cleared.
His thoughts turned. When? When could they have sealed this pact?
Severus shoulders slumped. Of course… "You breathed for me."
Miss Granger groaned. "Oh gods. CPR."
"CPR?" Arthur frowned.
"Poppy said, in my recovery, that late one night, I stopped breathing. My heart stopped. That," his gaze lifted to the young witch, but she was staring into her cup, "that Miss Granger, not able to find her and not confident with the proper spells, compressed by chest and…gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."
"The Kiss of Life." Her murmur was soft. "My mother enrolled me for a St John Ambulance course at the end of Second Year." A wry, almost bitter smile pulled at her lips. "The muggle in me came out."
Severus leant back against the firm cushioning of the couch. "It's been over a year. How was it uncovered?"
Miss Granger met his gaze then. Guilt burned in her dark eyes. "Ron proposed."
Not that Severus ever thought she was making the right choice with the brainless Weasley oaf and he really couldn't help his mutter of, "My condolences" yet it had been her choice to make. One now taken from her.
Severus winced. Fuck. Fuck. They'd planned a life. A future. Without the kiss, the Soul-Mate Bond would've remained dormant and unknown. Marriage magic negated the threat of the older bond and Miss Granger's quidditch team of red-headed babies would've been safe and secure.
But…they –he and Miss Granger— had unintentionally started down the soul-mate path. If they chose to ignore the bond –which was within their right at that moment— they could find a sexual relationship elsewhere. Yet, now they could only magically marry each other. And Miss Granger would only ever bear his children.
The illicit image rose. Of a little girl, skinny, sharp-tongued, with black eyes and a cloud of black curls. He shoved the false-creation behind a wall of ice, and the sudden pain of that denial almost broke a gasp from him.
He looked to the Minister, fighting to keep his tone even. Though he couldn't lace it with concern. "How is your son, Arthur?"
The other wizard scrubbed his hands over a tired face. His smile was slow. "Ron will…recover."
Severus put down his untouched cup and pinched at the bridge of his nose. He'd had a whole three hours of his life not going to shit. That had to be some sort of record.
"Can Hermione stay in the castle, Severus?"
As if he could refuse. The witch could hardly go back to the Burrow. Not with a jilted boy set to return. And Ronald Weasley was hardly the most sensible of wizards. He'd tear the girl apart, blaming her for something that had been decided long before either of them had been born.
"You were heading to Australia to visit your parents for the summer, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, on Tuesday. I can stay at the Three Broomsticks. There's no need to—"
"Foy." Severus ignored her. Arthur was right. Not just for getting her out of the Burrow, but keeping her from the public eye. This would get out. Something this insane always did.
An elf popped into the sitting room, spindly hands wringing together and his golden eyes gleaming and bright. "How can Foy help the great and wonderful Headmaster?"
Severus held back a sigh. The little elf worshipped him. At least he'd toned down the effusive praise. But not by much, it seemed. It had reached an embarrassing level and more than one member of staff had sniggered. "Please prepare one of the guest suites for Miss Granger. She'll be staying with us for a few days."
"As the magnificent Headmaster wishes." And with another pop, he was gone.
"Headmaster, I don't need—"
"This will get out. You will be safer here."
Hermione stared at him. Get out? Was he going to tell…? No, Severus Snape wouldn't want it known he was the soul-mate of the Gryffindor bushy haired know-it-all. Then who…?
Ron. He wouldn't mean it. He'd apologise after –cowed and embarrassed— but when he was hurting, he lashed out. And the rush of the Minister and his family to St Mungo's, Ron's state and the gossip of the hospital staff would have the vultures flocking. Then Ron in his anger would toss them every piece of foul meat he had.
Mr Weasley patted her hand. "He's surrounded. Ron won't get the chance to explode in public."
A small huff escaped the Headmaster. He obviously had little belief that Ron would not put his giant foot firmly in his mouth.
She looked up as Mr Weasley stood. A muscle twitched under his right eye and a stone dropped into Hermione's stomach. He wasn't as confident as his words suggested.
"I should go." And a moment, later in a flare of green flames, he vanished.
Hermione looked to the Headmaster. Her soul-mate. It was impossible… No, she had the paperwork to prove it. So…it was simply, very improbable.
He had changed from the dark and driven wizard that had filled her time at Hogwarts before Voldemort fell. He was healthier. The sallow, hollowed cheeks and skinny frame had filled out and his skin was now a clear alabaster. The lines were gone. She didn't want to admit that in the fresh, afternoon sunlight Severus Snape was strangely attractive. That she'd been finding him so for too many months…
"Soul-mates are not a fixed fact, Miss Granger."
She frowned at him. "How is that possible, sir? Surely it's one soul meant for another?" She reddened. She was arguing for her right to him. Which was wrong. And something she didn't want. Not at all. "I mean…"
Snape's lips twitched upwards and her belly fluttered. "Whatever this thing is," he waved a long-fingered hand between them, "perhaps 'soul-mate' is an ancient misnomer. I believe this binding magic is more of a…push. An incentive. Let me ask you, how unlikely do you think it is that you and I would become…involved?"
He lifted his eyebrow and Hermione's face warmed. She looked away. She could hardly admit that she found his velvet-lined voice mixed with the pulse of power that had always hung sure around his frame utterly compelling. Even with his unconventional looks, Severus Snape could never be ignored.
Hermione forced a smile and lied through her teeth. "Not likely, sir."
Something moved through his eyes and he fell silent. No, her denial couldn't affect him. He was Severus Snape. Everyone and their crup knew his heart had been taken long ago. The perfect Lily Potter. Hermione stopped herself from frowning. Circe, she couldn't be jealous of that witch. Everything about it was wrong.
Snape drew in a heavy breath. "Marriage magic supersedes an inchoate soul-bond. But for a touch of muggle interference, you would now be the fiancée of Mr Weasley."
He sneered the name, but Hermione caught a shiver, quick and unexpected. Could she have said no to Ron? With his family on the other side of the door? At her hesitation, their impatience would've driven them into the kitchen. And following that, the brow beating, advice and layerings of guilt. Until she agreed to be a Weasley.
She'd escaped. Merlin, there was that spike of guilt again. "How can you know this, sir? That it's not fixed?" She met his dark eyes. So sure with intelligence…and ridiculously long eyelashes. Yes, she'd written reams about him to Ron, but had she ever truly looked at him before?
Snape picked at an invisible piece of lint on his leg and crossed it over the other. For too many heartbeats, he was silent before he let out a long breath. "Because, Miss Granger, Lily Evans was also my soul-mate."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. One thought smacked her. Hard. Merlin's little green apples… Severus Snape was Harry's father.
I know, I'm bad... As ever, let me know what you think! :)