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Hermione forgot how to blink. Oh god, oh gods… She simply stared at the wizard before her as if he'd lost all sense, all reason. She swallowed, but still croaked when she muttered, "Marry?"
Snape stood and poured firewhiskey into his tumbler. He lifted the decanter. "Would you like another?"
Hermione shook her head, not a single coherent thought connecting in her head. How was he so bloody calm? He'd just proposed. To her. "Sir…"
His gaze fixed on the windows and the bright evening light of a Scottish summer. "I believe here is the push you need to accept my offer."
"What…?" The room dropped to sudden darkness and a quick flare of wall sconces illuminated the three narrow windows.
Owls with their cross-flapping wings. Talons and beaks, trying to find purchase against lead tracings, scrabbled and scratched over the glass. And to each scaled leg was tied a scroll or letter.
"Your admirers." Snape arched his eyebrow. "Your saviours."
His wand slashed the air and a heartbeat later a very large but neat pile of parchment covered the table before her. The owls flapped against the outside of the windows, his magic denying them their treat, but they had to turn away, their job done.
With trembling fingers, Hermione took the first one from the heap. She recognised Ron's infantile scrawl. Had the parchments fallen in some form of order? Those she knew best rising to the top?
Mione,
I read tonight's Prophet. We can still be together. If you want?
Wouldn't that be great? I mean, I know we can't marry now or have kids –Dad explained. Something about marriage magic. But uncommitted sex is fine!— and so it, we, won't be a forever thing. Because I want kids. And I wouldn't want Snape's brats. I think you wouldn't either. They'd be Slytherins! No thanks!
And we should go ahead with this because as if someone like Snape deserves a soul-mate!
I also think it's right that I be your first. Your reward, Mione. I know you've always fancied me.
Come to the Burrow, tomorrow. I'll be home tonight, but I need rest before anything physical, the Healer says. A real Healer this time!
Looking forward to getting naked with you.
Ron
Hermione blasted his letter to little blackened cinders. "Pig. What an utter, utter pig."
She picked up another letter and caught her breath. Sirius? Sirius Black had written to her over this? Her nail cut through the seal as her stomach tightened. It had to be support. His worry for her. Sympathy. Not…
My Dearest Mione
Come to me, I will take care of you. As a woman should be taken care of. You need not suffer Snivellus' poor attempts. He was a Death Eater, my dear. How could he know how to please a woman?
Snivellus also has no soul. I cannot believe you could be bound to him at all. I am happy, however, to intercede, just in case.
Harry is at the Burrow until Tuesday.
Come soon. And you will, I promise you that…
Your devoted instructor,
Sirius Black
Another flash of flame ignited Sirius' letter. "I'm simply prime meat to them." She pressed the sodden handkerchief to her eyes and breathed, fighting back more tears. The scents of herbs and the hints of cool grass eased the ache in her chest. "Bastards."
"Don't read any more."
Another parliament of owls clattered against the windows and Snape's wand added yet more…offers to the pile. Hermione groaned as she recognised Percy Weasley's cramped script. Did every man she knew what to get into her knickers?
No one –no one— had shown the slightest hint of romantic interest in her. To commit to her. Absolutely none. Even Ron's proposal seemed more of a convenience...for him. But now this host of wizards had the opportunity for a convenience fuck to "save" her from no doubt a fate considered worse than death –being the soul-mate of one Severus Snape— they all leapt at the chance. A bloody bragging right, she was sure. "I was the one that broke the bond between them, you know. He didn't want her after I had her…" Gits. The lot of them.
And Snape had known how they'd react.
She sank back into the firmness of the couch. "How would it work?"
"Marriage?" He swirled the tumbler and a thin column of grey smoke twisted up from the glass. "Rather than…consummation to complete the soul-bond, there are specialised vows for soul-mates, working with the binding as the usual marriage magic works against it. But this form of marriage would protect you from any unwanted physical attention, in the way that the kiss protected you from unwanted proposals. Also with that ritual, there would be time…to become acquainted." He held her gaze, his eyes dark and endless. "As much time as you need." His gaze dropped away. "I will not pressure you."
Hermione bit at her lip. "And you agree with it? With marrying me?"
"I would not have suggested it otherwise." He let out a long breath. "It is something that has been at the back of my mind since Arthur first stepped through the floo. That when it got out –and it would— things would spin wildly out of control. I believe our marriage is the best solution."
She stared at the heap of parchment. Wizards she knew –ones she thought cared for her— and ones she'd probably never met in her life, wanted to have sex with her for no other reason than to deny this wizard his soul-mate.
A man who had almost died for them. One who had suffered for them. Someone brilliant and honourable. Hermione blinked as the realisation smacked her hard. He was her soul-mate, as impossible as it seemed. Someone meant for her. Perfect for her.
Nerves tightened in her belly and she willed herself to stand. Snape watched her, his dark eyes as unreadable as ever.
Could she live with him? Was he a tyrant? Was he as cold and sarcastic in his private life as he'd been as a teacher? Since this disaster had fallen on them, he hadn't raged. He had been calm, considered. No doubt privately swallowed the fresh opening of an old pain. And he had planned, whilst she sat in her room and thought how her cowardice at not going straight to her parents had started everything off…
Yes, he was older, almost twice her age, but men –boys— her own age were still so…ignorant. Immature. He hadn't rolled his eyes when she said she wanted to seek out an academic apprenticeship, as Ron had done. He'd actually asked her what her plans were, rather than assume, now that she was free of school, that she would follow Ron and Harry into the Ministry.
Severus Snape wasn't handsome…but by Merlin, he was striking. His colouring, the sharpness of his features, his tall, lithe build. And eyes, eyes that could spear you…
And there was the strange surge in her flesh when she was near him, that went beyond all of her logical reasoning. A need. The desire to touch him. To kiss him. To explore…everything with this most mysterious of wizards.
She willed her feet forward, closing the distance between them. Snape looked down at her, along that great hook of a nose. Her fingers ached to touch it, to stroke its length, wondering if it was warm or chilled.
"Do soul-mate's always have love…Severus?" She stumbled over his name and almost winced, twisting it into –she was certain— an unconvincing smile.
The hope in her eyes put a knot in Severus' chest. There was no way out for her. She could take up with one of those vile offers –and he knew he'd seen the Mutt's scrawl in that vast pile— to find an unfixed life. And for this moment to forever trail her; that she was running, escaping from a life with the dreaded Severus Snape.
Or she could chose him. And become his soul-mate.
Lily had pressed a kiss to his cheek a month after her hated wedding. A chance meeting in the street and she thought to smooth away the jagged edges of her old life. He'd laughed at her, something bitter and tired. As if a peck could ease the years of his anguish.
He'd felt it then in that light brush of her lips against his smooth skin. The agony of a broken bond. A fire under his skin that scorched a path to his heart and left it a cinder.
Lily had staggered back from him, her hand to her mouth. She'd stared, her soft mouth parting, and a sheen of tears in her familiar green eyes. A strained heartbeat after, she turned and fled from him, escaping to the shadows of Diagon Alley.
He'd crawled away to lick his wounds, lost days to anything he could lay his hands on. Tried to shove the knowledge down -that she should, could have been his- shove it below the iced walls of his mind. It had haunted him for years.
And it'd always been a stab to his chest that that loathed moment was the last time he saw her alive.
He let out a slow breath. The witch before him needed an answer. The truth was, he didn't know. Still, he hoped. That sprig of warmth pushed back the old pain. Lily had never wanted him. Never. Not even a soul-bond pulled her to him…but this little witch? Brilliant and loyal. She was everything he thought he could never, should never have…
And how in Merlin's name, did one man have two soul-mates? A wry smile tugged at his mouth. Did everyone get a fist full and had to wait to see who stuck? His knuckles brushed Hermione's warm cheek. Her skin was unbelievably soft, and the touch, so slight, so brief, seared him. His hand trembled. Dear gods… It was nothing like Lily. Nothing.
He fought to breathe, not to sweep the young witch up and devour her. "I imagine they do, Miss Granger."
Her eyes darkened at his low tone, or was it his touch? "I think we should share a proper kiss, don't you?"
Severus drew a line along her upper lip, her mouth parting under his caress. Her eyelids fluttered, pulling another smile from him. She was a sweet little witch. And she would be his. All his.
Merlin, that thought felt right.
"It would be my honour to kiss you…Hermione."
And Severus' breath ghosted her skin as his mouth dipped to hers.
This fic has about five more chapters to go. Maybe. Perhaps...
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