Chapter 43: In Which We Ponder the Nature of Love
Sunday Afternoon: Snape sat at the workbench in his lab debating how to create a super concentrated dose of opium. He had begun with the traditional concentration method of simmering off as much of the water as possible, and was now looking at a thick, goopy paste that would probably be the dream of any hardcore heroin fiend, but wasn't likely to make a dragon sleepy, let alone calm or sedate.
He figured the necessary dose at this point was around four litres, and he needed to get that down to around 150 mL. Less would be better, but was unlikely to happen. Even with magic there was only so far an element could be concentrated without damaging its effective strength.
His first spell removed the last of the water, leaving him with something that looked much like a large slab of very badly poured chocolate. His second spell provided a barrier between him and the opium. He'd didn't want his work compromised by any of the effects of straight opium. His third spell was to cause a very specialized chemistry book to float over to him.
He loved that book. Something like twenty five of them had been printed. It was illegal in every country that knew it existed and considered an urban legend elsewhere. It listed active chemical compounds in many known subjects, and which other compounds could be removed without damaging the effectiveness of the main compound. It had been designed for the illegal drug trade so that the drugs could be smuggled more effectively, but the book also included little fun bits like how to synthesize the happy chemicals in chocolate, coffee, and alcohol. He often wished he had had the chance to meet the men who wrote the book, but as the urban legend had it, they were killed by rival drug lords shortly after the book was written over whom would control the knowledge found therein.
He knew what was sitting in front of him could be sold as black tar heroin, but what he needed to do was strip away anything that wasn't vitally important to the essential compound. This book held the answers. Granted, it held the answers for someone with a pharmaceutical grade lab, but Snape had some short cuts not readily available to the sort of person most likely to have gotten his hands on this book.
He looked over the chemical compound chart, and began to think of the problem like a chemist. If he had the lab, he'd be adding acids, oxygen, and other chemicals to break the bonds holding the different chemicals together, forming new compounds, and then sorting the new from the old. As a wizard he knew he wanted to get rid of the bulk, the color, all the plant matter that was unnecessary, and the latex. He spent some time pouring over the book and then began preparing for the spell that would remove all traces of cellulose. It wasn't a large component, but it was an easy one to isolate.
While he broke up the slab so that his spell would have an easier time removing unwanted chemicals, he remembered the time he had not worn the protective barrier between himself and opium. Most potions workers had done it at least once. Many did it more often. That was one of the reasons why potions masters were so few and far between. Extremely dangerous work, with dangerous chemicals, many of which if you tasted them too often, ended up owning you. Many a potions master in training ended up looking for other work after his system had been forcibly detoxed one too many times.
It was the euphoria that he remembered the most clearly of his experiment all those years ago, and it brought a shock to his system. That's why Hermione's look last night was familiar. Her smile when I said we'd have a wedding, her moans while I worked her shoulders, her voice calling my name later that night: they're a drug. And I'm rapidly finding myself addicted. He shook his head, and turned his thoughts back to the work at hand. It was a very bad idea to let his mind wander while working in the lab. I'd never hear the end of it if I blew myself up like Longbottom!
Sunday Evening: Hermione was doing her rounds half-heartedly. Yes, it was the last day of school. Yes, she could still take points that might affect the outcome of the yearly house contest, but really, with Ravenclaw in the lead by 146 points, it wasn't likely to come to much. She'd pretty much have to walk into a house orgy to find something worth taking that many points for. So as she walked, she cheated a bit by reading.
She was reading about wizarding wedding ceremonies. She had attended many weddings over the last few years, but except for George, Deidre, and Angelina's wedding, she hadn't noticed much in the way of options. As she had seen, the minster got up, he said his bit, you said your bit, and then you were married.
Apparently, there were other options. She had started with the Ministry's guide, and made a mental note to slap Percy upside the head for foisting such a badly written piece of dreck on the populace at large. She then hit the library.
She found The Young Witch's Guide to Marriage, Marriage: A Comparative History of Customs, and Beyond I Do: Planning the Binding Ceremony You Really Want! Three minutes of perusal showed her that The Young Witch's Guide to Marriage was not what she was looking for. In that she'd have finished moving in with Severus in a week or two, and was already shagging him, there wasn't much in that book that she felt she needed help on.
Marriage: A Comparative History of Customs was fascinating, and she would be spending more time reading it, but also wasn't quite what she was looking for. After all, did she really need to know that Viking custom required the bride be kidnapped from her parents home and held for at least a month to make the marriage binding? No. And she really couldn't see going to Australia so that Snape could 'kidnap' her. But it was a really interesting titbit. And she always liked interesting titbits
It was Beyond I Do that had what she was looking for. So that was the book she was reading as her feet took her on her path around the school. She had finished the section on selecting a binder or binding yourself and was mulling the idea over.
All of the Weasley weddings (once again, with the exception of when Fred and Angelina married Deirdre) had had the Reverend Mullins perform the ceremony. He had also buried Dumbledore, and may have been the only C. of E. minister in the wizarding world. Or not, but he was the only one she knew. He made sense for the Weasley weddings. He was their minister. He had baptized their children. He'd laid two of them to rest. He was the one they listened to most Sunday mornings. But he wasn't particularly important to Hermione, and she doubted Severus even had a nodding acquaintance with the man.
There really wasn't a person who she and Severus shared who would be a good binder. Ginny might do. But when it came down to it, she knew the younger woman really wasn't what she was looking for in a binder. If it had been her and Ron, Harry would have been an excellent choice. But if it had been her and Ron, it also would have been Reverend Mullins. When it really came down to it, there wasn't anyone she wanted to bind her to Snape.
That left binding themselves. It was a good option. They'd have total control over the ceremony. They'd just have to use a modified version of the Unbreakable Vow. It also meant picking the vows very carefully. Like I'll just toss some in for the fun of it. Love, Honour, Cherish, Keep the house at 23 during the winter, Respect, Do the Dishes, Take out the Trash, Weekly Backrubs, Faithfulness, Trust. 'Till natural death or the vows kill us do we part! Yeah, that's a bloody brilliant list. Maybe this will have to be a much modified version of the Unbreakable Vows. Maybe these should be the Unbreakable but Very Bendy Vows.
What promises can I live up to for the rest of my life? Anything that involves action but not necessarily intent. Honour? I can do that. It's all action based. Cherish? What the hell is cherish? Respect? I can do that in my sleep. Faithfulness? No problems there, all my temptations are safely married to women I wouldn't want to annoy. Trust? You always trusted him, that's why learning he killed Dumbledore was so awful. And once we started dating, you fell right back into the habit of trusting him.
Love? What is love? It's even less defined then cherish. You fought and shagged and sniped and joked and quarrelled and loved Ron. It was all passion, fiery and hot like his hair. And you knew it the minute you saw him in the train on the way to Hogwarts. You've never even had an argument with Severus. Or the 'We've got five minutes alone; let's fuck like bunnies in heat before everyone else gets back and we've got to be civil again' sex behind a door. Yeah, well, how often would you and Ron have done that if you hadn't been at school, his parent's home, or on the hunt for Voldemort? About twice a week. God, I miss that. She smiled as happy memories from the end of her sixth year at Hogwarts until the day before Ron was killed filled her mind.
She cleared her mind of the pleasant images. Okay. I've got honour, trust, respect, and shag. Well, successful marriages have been built on less. What about love? What about it? What is love? Do you love Severus? Will you love Severus?
And it was there, as she came to the door of her office, that Hermione realized she had hit a question she couldn't research an answer to.