A/N: For those of you that have read this before – no, this is not a rewrite, I'm just uploading my stuff to x x Part Three x x x
It was inevitable, Hermione knew, that the moment would come when she had to stop crying and just get on with it. She fought it at first. Wallowing in the righteous misery that she felt was so much easier than dealing with the entire situation. As long as she was in here, crying, no one would approach her except to offer their condolences. But that couldn't go on forever, she knew that just as she knew that crying wasn't solving anything. There were things to do, after all. People to tell. Her parents, most importantly; though how she would break it to them that she was marrying a Professor, she hadn't the slightest clue.
Not to mention telling Harry and Ron. . .and everyone else. She supposed that there would be no way to keep it a secret, especially if Malfoy knew his father's intentions ahead of time. He would make a scene; she had no doubt about it. Choosing the greasy git over the slimy ferret? The choice made sense to her, but others might not see it the way she did. Especially since only herself, Harry, Ron and Ginny knew about the Order and the part Snape played in it. The students at large would hardly see the motives behind choosing Snape over Malfoy. Malfoy was her own age, after all. And wealthy. And somewhat more handsome than Snape was, though even she could admit that the Potions Professor -did- have somewhat of a dark and handsome look about him, even if it was hidden beneath and abominable attitude.
So, that was that, in essence. She had to tell them, starting with Harry and Ron. And then she would need to arrange time to visit her parents to inform them first of the Law itself, then of why she was currently considered to be eighteen, and finally that she was being forced to marry Snape.
The decision itself, she decided with absolute finality, could be left out of the discussion. There was no reason for them to know she had chosen Snape over Malfoy. Or even that there was a decision to begin with. Let them think that this was forced entirely on her by Snape's wretch of a father.
Hermione took a deep breath, easing her legs out of the position she had held for nigh on two hours now, ever since Professor McGonagall had left to attend her other duties. She felt calmer now, if not completely resolved to do what must be done. She would survive, just as McGonagall had said. Even if it wasn't enough to make her happy, it was enough to live. Eventually she may even find a way out of the entire mess.
Or Snape could die, she reasoned to herself. He -was- much older than her, even if not that old for a wizard. And he involved himself in dangerous activities on a regular basis. Not to mention the fact that he was a Potions Professor, carrying with it a certain degree of danger from careless students. Yes, death could very well come at any moment.
She winced suddenly, realizing that her brain had done nothing less than just wish death upon a man that had, for all intents and purposes, done her no harm outside of hurtful words. He certainly didn't deserve death for this, especially since he had no prior knowledge that it was going to happen. It was doubtful that he wanted anything to do with her, much less an unhappy marriage.
His father, on the other hand, could burn in the lowest circle of Hell for all of eternity for all that she cared. Him and Lucius Malfoy - bastards together, slowly roasting on the fiery coals of their damnation.
There she went again, she chastised herself, slowly pulling on her school robes again over her shirt and skirt. Those kind of thoughts were best left to the very men she wished it upon. They didn't do her own soul justice.
She slipped quietly into the halls of the school, thankful that classes were still in session. It was amazing that Ron and Harry hadn't tried to storm her rooms yet. The Headmaster must have said something to keep them in class, perhaps a convenient excuse for why she wasn't there. A project or something. Anything to keep them from harassing her before she was ready; even if at this point she didn't know if she would –ever- be ready.
But first she wanted to speak with the Headmaster or the details of the contract and arranging a meeting with her. . .
She swallowed hard, biting back the bile that rose in her throat.
Husband.
There, she had said it.
He was to be her husband.
She moaned softly, pressing her palm to her forehead, as if to press out the unpleasant images and thoughts racing through her very brain.
And then she was off.
The quickest route to the Headmaster's office still took her longer than she would have liked, considering how red and splotchy her face most likely still was, but there was no one to see her. She stopped in front of the gargoyle, pondering the stone menace. The fact that she didn't know the password into the office hadn't crossed her mind until that very moment.
"Gummy worms?" She offered tentatively.
Nothing.
"Licorice whips?"
Still nothing.
She growled, stamping her foot angrily at the immovable statute; though it did not so much as blink at her, let alone move.
"Sugar cubes," a voice murmured from behind her.
The last voice on earth she wanted to hear at that very moment.
She stifled a gasp, biting her lower lip to keep from letting the dreadful sound from her mouth.
"Thank you, Professor Snape."
He didn't answer, and she couldn't bring herself to turn to even look his way, though his footsteps were on the stairs behind her as she started up into the office. Another inevitability, she supposed, was that she would have to speak with him. Soon. Perhaps even now.
"Ah, Severus, Miss Granger. How fortunate that you both are here at the same time."
x x x
Severus' head was pounding again, despite the best efforts of one of his stronger pain relief potions. Perhaps it had something to do with the half bottle of Firewhiskey he had consumed that morning amidst trying to cope with the train wreck his life had just become. Not even a sobriety charm could counter the effects of that level of intoxication completely. The headache, he knew, would serve as a lasting reminder of why he rarely indulged so heavily with hard liquor.
But, of course, here was the reason why he was indulging in the flesh. He ground his teeth together, knowing there was nothing to be done about it, and took a seat before the Headmaster's desk.
"The Ministry has received the signed contract," Dumbledore murmured almost softly, as if in concession to the pain he knew Severus was feeling. He probably did, the Potions Master noted with something akin to angry sarcasm, after all he knew everything else. He had even known of this ridiculous contract before either of the parties involved in it was made aware.
"Here are your copies," the Headmaster continued on, either blithely unaware of the dark haired wizard's internal ragings or just ignoring them completely. "They were quick to make note that the contract is very specific in terms to when the marriage must take place."
Severus was surprised to hear Granger snort loudly, with more venom than he could ever recall from her in the past.
"So we're not even allowed the luxury of -that- decision now?" Her voice practically oozed with malice, a far cry from the sobbing mess he had pictured her as. Perhaps even the shy Gryffindor bookworm could be a lioness when pushed too far.
"Upon reading through the contract," Dumbledore began slowly, almost conciliatory in tone. "You'll find that not much is left to choice in this matter."
Severus sat up a little straighter, eyeing the copies of the contract that lay on the Headmaster's desk. "May I?"
"Of course."
He grabbed the closest one, unrolling the parchment. It was a long contract, he noted absently. Much longer than a normal marriage contract would normally call for.
"I'll kill him. . . " he muttered almost immediately, the initial terms jumping out at him. "Within two weeks, Albus?"
"Two weeks?" Granger snapped, hurrying to snatch her own copy of the contract from the desk.
"You didn't bother to read it before signing?" He couldn't bother to contain the derision from his voice.
Her brown eyes went wide, as if she'd just been slapped rather harshly. And then she did the last thing he would have expected.
She spoke back to him.
"Well, forgive me 'Professor'," her tone betrayed the anger she felt at his title, the situation they were in. "I wasn't exactly given a choice, one way or the other. What did it matter if I signed it without reading?"
Severus felt his lips curl into a sneer. If all else fails, his brain reminded him without preamble, fall back on what you do best. And that, in his case, was a pure mastery of the cold, cruel word.
"I seem to recall hearing that you -did- have a choice, Miss Granger," he smirked. "Myself or Mister Malfoy, wasn't it? What pray tell chose you to choose me? Was it the notion that I would enjoy your company more than he? If so, allow me to put that ridiculous idea to rest --"
"Enough."
The word was spoken with such soft anger that Severus felt himself flinch involuntarily. Albus rarely got angry, and so far he'd managed to incite that wrath twice in one day. First with wishing Granger would throw herself from the towers, and now. . .this.
"Severus, I realize this is difficult for you. You have made no illusions over the years on how much you loathe students, most especially Gryffindors. And you have also never once failed to hide the fact that you dislike Harry Potter and his friends more than any others, through no fault of their own."
Severus frowned, lips pressed tightly together lest he dig a hole even deeper than that which he already found himself in.
"However, I cannot see where this. . .pettiness. . .is going to solve -anything-. So, unless you wish to strike out on your own and abandon her to Mister Malfoy, I would suggest some tact."
He thought he heard his soon-to-be. . .wife. . ., the world still rankled within him, snort at the mention of tact. He supposed a Gryffindor would think it humorous that he was capable of tact. He was. It just was a rare thing, and not something he felt inclined to show in this circumstance.
"Headmaster --"
Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm leaving the two of you in here to figure this out. I trust you to act like an adult, Severus. And you, Miss Granger, can try a little harder not to bait him so."
The brunette witch sat up straighter in her chair, her brow knitting together and mouth opening for what Severus would be sure to be a firestorm of protests -
Provided the Headmaster let her speak, of course.
Which it did not look like he intended to do.
"Speak your minds. Try to come to an understanding," the aging wizard counseled, much as Severus would imagine a marriage counselor to do in the same situation. "The house elves will bring you anything you need in the meantime."
And then he left.
"Just great," his companion seethed through clenched teeth, arms crossed rather firmly over her chest. "Just bloody great."
"Language, Miss Granger."
She turned, raising her eyebrows at him. "If any time called for that kind of language, I think this is it. So I shall bloody well curse all that I bloody want to and you can't bloody stop me."
Severus fought the twinge at the corner of his mouth. Fought it to the point that it spread to the other side, quirking it up into a near-smile before he could stop it.
She wasn't just the little bookworm he'd always assumed, he was finding out more and more as the minutes went by.
At least things would be interesting.
"I suggest we start by reading the contract," he murmured after a moment of struggling to force his lips back into the thin line they normally occupied.
She regarded him evenly, as if trying to peer into his very soul, somewhere that he could assure her without a doubt that she did not want to be. Finally, after several long, excruciating moments, she nodded. "Alright, then."
x x x
Hermione found her heart sinking with every line that she read. It was all hear, in bold black strokes. Her entire life, spelled out to the letter. Where she was to make her permanent residence. When the wedding would be. Even, just as she suspected, how she was to be called. Hermione Snape, it would be.
And then, horror of all horrors, at the very bottom of the contract. The killing stroke to what remained of her pride.
'. . .shall be required to produce an heir within a year of having completed her education at Hogwarts. . .'
That was it, her heart whispered as it broke. The final blow to all that remained of her sense of self. Her dreams and ambitions were nothing. She quietly rolled up the parchment, stuffing it listlessly into her pocket, only to find that Snape had finished before she had.
And he looked no more pleased about the state of things.
"Is there no way to talk him out of . . .some of that?" She sighed, gesturing at the contract that he still had. "I had wanted to go to Academy after this."
His lips pressed out into a small, sarcastic version of a smile, causing her to shiver from the coldness of it. "No. Asking my father to do anything he does not already wish to do is pointless."
"Wonderful," she sighed. The tears were coming back; she could feel them behind her eyes, just waiting for the wrong moment to strike. She didn't want to cry in front of him, to show that weakness. "So. . .that's it, then."
"It appears so." He rolled up the parchment, shoving it angrily into an inner pocket of his robes. He then turned his hand to a spot just inside the chest of the robe, to what appeared to be an inner pocket.
A ring was not something she had envisioned herself as receiving when this entire thing began, so it came as somewhat of a shock to find that he was holding one out to her.
"My father sent this to me a week ago," he sneered, gesturing for her to take it from his fingers. "In hopes that I'd find someone to give it to. I should have started getting suspicious, then, it seems."
She took the ring gingerly, looking at the rather impressive center stone, a flawless diamond. It was flanked on either side by emeralds just as bright and sparkling, and set into a band of gold.
"It was my mother's, before your intolerable curiosity forces you to ask," he offered, somewhat snidely. "And, as the contract states in so veiled of terms, you will be required to wear it."
'Wear this or else' wasn't exactly the type of proposal she had always dreamed of, but it would have to do. She slipped the ring onto her left ring finger, feeling the band adjust to the proper size. Of course it was magical. No simple diamond solitaire for this witch, she was to be the lady of a manor house, complete with the very house elves she had tried so hard to free over the years. Perhaps she'd be able to convince one or more of her own personal set to take clothes in between doing such mundane things as . . .well, what –did- house witches do with themselves during the day? Perhaps she'd have to ask Draco's mother when she saw her on the social circuit.
'I'm sorry, ma'm, but I was just wondering what a Death Eater's wife is supposed to do with herself when her husband isn't there to whip her into submission,' her brain reeled off the absurd question into her mind before she could stop it.
She giggled, somewhat hysterically, slapping a hand over her mouth in mortification. But Snape hardly seemed to have notice that she was having a breakdown.
"I will accompany you to your parents this evening to inform them of what has happened."
"Tonight?" She managed to squeak, the giggles subsiding immediately. Tonight was so soon. Too soon, even. She needed to get up a good measure of courage to tell her daddy that his precious baby girl was not only getting married, but to a man old enough to -be- her father.
"Waiting will not make it any easier," he shrugged, but whether or not he cared how 'easy' it was for her was unclear. She doubted it, just as she doubted this semi-peace that had settled between them, dulled only by the sharp edge of Snape's dry tone, would last.
"And the wedding?" She offered blandly. "Will we do that with a Ministry official here at the school or somewhere else?"
He sighed, regarding her evenly. For once he looked almost like any other man might in his position - tired and worn. But the mask was back up almost immediately, his trademark sneer firmly in place. "You will want a dress and all of that nonsense, I assume?"
It was difficult not to snap at him that 'no', she didn't want those things. Just to be contrary she wanted to say that, to throw it in his face that she wasn't that type of girl. That she didn't care for the flowers and pageantry that was supposed to come with this, one of the most important days of her life.
But her mouth just wouldn't work to say those words - because they weren't true. She wanted the dress and the flowers. And a moonlit wedding, by a lake.
"I don't." She forced out slowly.
He rolled his eyes. "Do not be difficult with me, Miss Granger. Do you want the blood dress and flowers or not?"
She shook her head, denying her heart the opinion it so most wanted to voice. "Why bother? I can't act like this is my dream wedding, sir; because its not."
"As you wish," Snape shrugged. "We will have it at the manor, with a Ministry official. I will arrange a portkey for your parents."
"And my friends?" Hermione found herself asking quickly, before she had a good change to think the question through. She watched his face go from passive to cold in the blink of an eye.
"And by friends I assume you mean Potter and Weasley?"
She nodded. "And Ginny, of course."
"Of course," he drawled, eyes glittering. "If you feel it necessary to invite them, I will not stop you. Provided they still wish to associate with you once they learn the news."
And there it was, her greatest fear slapped down in front of her, in the open air, like a wound with salt applied to it. She bit the inside of her cheek, those stubborn tears near falling with that harsh jab.
"They'll understand," she whispered; furious with herself for crying and him for making her do so.
"Will they?" She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye, through the blur of another salty tear. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I pray that you have no illusions about the rest of your House, however? Or the rest of the school? Have you given a thought to what this marriage means?"
x x x
He knew the answer to the question before he even asked it, much as he did in class. It was a simple game to him, baiting her into these more complex emotions, making her think through the pain he was inflicting with his words. For there was always thought, even during a blind haze of crying, there was thought. And right now she was thinking through what he said.
Good.
This was the important part.
"You cannot tell them what you know about the Order," he continued on, ignoring her tearful sniffles. "And that means that the Gryffindors will see this only as you turning down Malfoy to marry your greasy git of a Professor. The Hufflepuffs will openly console you, of course; though they titter behind your back. The Ravenclaws, studious though they may be, are back biting and selfish when it comes down to it. They will think you got your grades from doing me certain. . .favors."
She gasped and he allowed himself a small inner cheer, readying the next blow to her fragile emotional walls. It was more of the pettiness Dumbledore wanted him to move beyond, he was sure. But it helped stave off the turmoil bubbling in his own soul, and for that alone he was willing to do it.
"And let us not forget my House. The Slytherins. They will expect you to behave as befits a Slytherin wife. Obedient to me in all things. Cunning. Deceitful. A perfect ornament at social functions."
Her wide eyes met his, straight on, and he could see in them the fear of what he was saying. Social functions. He forgot sometimes that she knew about what he did in his 'free time'. And of course she would wonder what horrors were to be inflicted upon her in the form of his 'associates'.
"Don't be ridiculous," he sneered, rolling his eyes. "They'll know you were forced into this and are still loyal to Potter. Don't expect to be dragged off to a revel any time soon."
He said 'any time soon', because there was no way he could guarantee that it would never happen. The Dark Lord commanded as the Dark Lord wished. And if he wanted to meet Severus' new bride, then that was the way it would be.
And he wouldn't even think on the wrath he was going to incur for going through with this marriage. Even Lucius must have thought that through before sending Draco's contract for her hand. The Dark Lord would not be pleased about his impending vows to a muggleborn, whether or not it was any of his doing. Then there was the child that was expected of this union. It wasn't common knowledge, but the children of Death Eaters were expected to then grow up to join the ranks themselves.
The war would be over long before the child reached the proper age, though, he reminded himself. Either that or he'd be dead and she'd be free of his family and his associates.
Not a comforting thought, but death was something he'd resigned himself to a long time before. The only difference now was that he'd be leaving behind a family of sorts.
"Are you up to the task, Miss Granger?" He hissed. "Revels or not, this will be far from a walk in the proverbial park."
"Don't worry about me," she snapped, and it was almost strong enough that he believed her.
Almost.
"Very well," he shrugged. "I would suggest we summon the Headmaster and arrange for our escape. I am assuming you'll want to tell Potter and Weasley prior to the announcement at dinner tonight?"
"Announcement?"
He winced, her squeaking tone somewhat grating on his ears. "Correct. Did you think to keep this in the dark until the vows were complete? I assure you, Malfoy will not be willing to keep our little secret."
"His father is the one that made the request," she argued with a shake of her head. "Draco probably doesn't even know."
"Yet," Severus nodded. "Draco doesn't know -yet-, and that's already assuming far too much considering how quickly news travels. Be that as it may, however, the Ministry routinely prints the outcomes of such contracts in the Daily Prophet."
She paled, clutching the arm of her chair. "I need to tell them before he does. Or before they hear it from someone else, period."
"I would imagine so," Severus smirked, pulling his wand from his pocket to summon a house elf so that they could locate the Headmaster and get out of this stiflingly cheery little room. "I will come by your room after dinner to take you to your parents."
She nodded, staring down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. This was a difficult time, undoubtedly. She still had classes to finish, and now was being forced into a sham of a marriage because his father felt it was 'best'. For once quick moment he almost felt bad for her.
Just for a second, though; then it was gone as quick as any other fleeting feeling of good nature.
He had enough to do with feeling sorry for himself.
x x x End Part x x x