DISCLAIMER: I am making no money off this, and this site isn't either. This is purely fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do than write this stuff. I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Snape, etc. J.K.R. does.

This is the second edition of this chapter, thanks very much to my two glorious betas! white-hound and Aindel S. Druida, both of whom have proved invaluable. I appreciate your help!

Vie des Poulets

Chapter 3

The ceremony was nowhere near over, as Hermione was soon to discover.

Lucius murmured paragraph after paragraph of obsequious material idolizing and glorifying the Dark Lord Voldemort the Great, of England, Scotland, etc., which was really just a load of tosh no sane person ought to have been subjected to hearing. However, Hermione had even less power in the situation than Snape, and she could tell, from the pensive chewing of his cheek at every particularly absurd phrase, and the grating of his clenched teeth for the duration of the rest, that he was just as tired as she herself was.

After about half an hour of listening to how the Dark Lord would reign supreme forever, being the first and only immortal man, and other rote phrases completely ignoring the whole point of the marriage, Lucius closed the book and said:

"Well! I guess that's that. Now, Severus, you may kiss the bride!"

Snape looked a bit taken aback, and faltered. He had already let go of Hermione's shoulder, about halfway through the ritual, and now they were separated by about a foot and a half of space, though he still held her hand warily.

"Are you saying that because it is necessary for the sanctity of the marriage, because of tradition, or because you have a perverted old mind and you want to be sure that I would actually kiss what is, in your opinion, no better than the rim of a rubbish bin?"

Lucius sat back in his chair, settling with a contented sigh. "To answer your query," he continued with a slightly salacious grin, "It would definitely be the latter."

Merlin! That man is a perverted bastard!

That was not Hermione's voice in her mind, however. Snape, as he looked at her, appeared incredibly uncomfortable at the prospect of kissing her. This was surprising, since Hermione was so certain that she had been selected at his discretion for the purpose of being a sort of unpaid whore.

"Come on, Severus!" jeered Lucius in a manner that might have been good-natured, maybe not. "Don't tell me you're afraid of kissing a woman? Less than a woman, I daresay, and certainly a lot less than me—me, who is descended from royal blood!"

Wait, what does he mean by that? Hermione could not stop the question from phrasing in her mind. Then, when she realized what he must have meant, she would have laughed aloud.

Stay quiet!

This command, which she had no choice but to obey, did not dispel the peals of laughter that rang in her mind, nor the slight tugging smile which burned her face. So. You're gay, is that it?

Not precisely. But confounded Lucius. Even when he jests, he must remain the lord over all, mustn't he?

Lucius was laughing his wretched arse off in his chair, for to his eyes he just saw the newly-made man and wife staring at each other in horror.

Granger, I apologize—this is as much against my principles as it is yours, but you really can't not comply with Lucius. He's that way.

So mentally saying, Snape suddenly closed his eyes, wrapped his arms fiercely around her, and kissed her—long, passionately, and in a highly experienced manner.

Lucius had ceased to chortle, and now resorted to clapping. "Bravo, my man. Bravo. Really, I didn't think you would do it. Your gumption astonishes me."

Their lips were still together, Hermione's mind was reeling. It was a nice experience, sure, but she was very much terrified nonetheless—too much so to respond.

-Don't leave me like this—might as well be a rag doll. Pretend I'm your bloody Weasley or something.

-Why? As she was still under his command, she really had no choice to comply, but her mind was still free. She began to return the passionate embrace, closing her eyes as well so she did not have to fully remember the person whom she snogged.

-I had to persuade them I was in bloody fucking love with you, that's why. And the Dark Lord will certainly ask for access to Lucius' memory, since he can't believe I've ever loved a woman. I've half a notion that it was the Dark Lord who requested this experiment himself, actually.

-Oh? Well, you owe me a bloody fucking good explanation for all this.

-You deserve no less.

With this, they parted—and Hermione felt his presence leave her mind, though his Imperius was still upon her to prevent her from running away, she expected. Though, reason had returned to her, so she would not have done that anyway. It would have served no use at the moment.

Snape clasped her hand firmly. "The ceremony rather leaves a pertinent action out," he noted mildly, and he graced her wrist with brief kiss. With a characteristically fluid motion, he flourished a small green silk box, faded and slightly frayed with age. Lucius, at its sight, sighed ponderously. Snape made a careful descent to the ground, getting on one knee for the official presentation.

"Oh," Lucius said, overwhelmed with nostalgia, "How I swept poor little Narcissa away with the enormous emerald I bought her for our nuptial hour! Of course, she would never wear it out; it was too ostentatious, she said. But I would say that I've made her wear some things that I certainly would call ostentatious, and, may I say, that ring the least of them."

"Shush," Snape reprimanded, all seriousness, but Malfoy gave one last guffaw. This earned him a vehement glare from Snape, who was not treating the situation as at all humorous. Then, gently, he opened the box.

"Hermione, as my wife, I give you this as a memento of our union." So saying, he drew the box open, revealing a small, elegant diamond surrounded by seven perfect minuscule pearls. The design was floral, with tiny engraved leaves that swayed gently when the ring was removed from the box. The effect was very beautiful, if not expensive. As he drew it, Lucius walked over and stooped irreverently to look at it closely.

"Dainty, but not extravagant," Malfoy sniffed, "And definitely not ostentatious. Almost like something you'd give a girl for her birthday."

"It was my mother's," Snape answered hollowly, gritting his teeth in an attempt not to lash out at his companion. "It holds a great sentimental value, if not a great monetary one. Please do not disparage it. She wore this longer than her wedding ring, which she merely exchanged for this one on the day of my conception, and her consequent engagement. I still hold it sacred."

"I understand, mon ami," Lucius replied affably, almost compassionately. A certain glint in his eye told otherwise.

"I mean it!" growled Snape, turning away from Lucius to face his bride.

Lucius laughed coldly. "Well, it's a shame you're as good as putting it on a sack of potatoes," the millionaire remonstrated, and he laughed again.

If I were any stupider I'd flatten him, Snape's thoughts rang through her mind, though at the moment he was staring rather hard at a knot in the floorboards.

Hermione guessed she was not supposed to have heard that, and so responded in order to annoy him: I appreciate the thought (literally), but are you ever going to let me have my peace of mind or what?

She flustered him, she could tell, and again she experienced that feeling like a gust of wind as he retreated fully from her mind. This done, Snape shook his locks and stood up. Hermione noticed that he did not put the ring on her finger, putting it back into the case and slipping it back into his pocket.

"I believe we'll be leaving now, Lucius. We have much business to attend to," he said, throwing what would have been a knowing glance if not directed at Hermione's earlobe.

Chuckling for the last time that night, Lucius replied, "See you at dinner, if you can spare the time, young fool. Hope you're hungry tonight; I heard we've got a weasel—quite a plump one, so I've heard."

"Utterly disgusting," replied Snape, turning a slightly paler color, and he dragged Hermione to the floo.

"Cheer up, fellow!" chirped Lucius ungraciously as the flames ensconced the newlyweds.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .