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Every time that Severus Snape had ever relied on anyone for anything he was disappointed. He didn’t know why he thought his meeting with the minister would be any different, or more disturbingly why he had put his faith into the hands of the wild haired witch who had good reason to hate him. Perhaps he had been swept up in the wizarding world’s insistence on referring to the so called Golden Trio as heroes, and for one misguided minute he thought of her that way. Hermione Granger, however, was no hero. She was possibly his worst nightmare now that the world had been liberated from the shadow of the dark lord. He could have kicked himself for not picking up on the subtle clues that he had created a monster back when she first visited him at St. Mungo’s. He’d been comatose for a month or so and the hospital staff thought it would be a lovely gift that his first visitors should be the three idiots who had muddled their way into killing the dark lord while he had put years of his life and more into that very task. He would never imply that they hadn’t suffered but it was nothing compared to the restrictions he had been living under for the last twenty years. They hadn’t been forced to murder a dying man respected by nearly every person in the wizarding world.
They stood around his hospital room and smiled at him as if they were friends, impudent children that they were. With the little strength he had, he quickly disabused their notions of hero worship in regards to him. Potter and Weasley leaned back and cringed even as the hints of relief showed in their eyes when he’d told them off. They were so used to his scorn that it made them feel relieved to be yelled at! He sighed heavily and worried that he had seriously ruined an entire generation of wizards and witches merely by surviving. He was certain there were more former students out there eagerly awaiting their turn to be chewed out by their ex-professor turned spy. Before he had a chance to let the dread of that thought settle, he had noticed that Miss Granger was still standing in the same position as before. He risked a glance at her face and felt his ire raise. That indignant trollop was still smiling at him as if he hadn’t just insulted them and their mothers. She was just as relieved as the other two, but more so because she was still smiling at him. Without moving his eyes from hers, he slowly reached out one weakened arm to knock everything off the dresser to his left. Something smashed, probably a glass of water. Her smile shifted as though she were dealing with a child.
“Starting physical rehabilitation early sir?” she said, much to the horror of her companions. They managed to drag her out of the room before she could see him rest his face warily into his hands. He was more than a little grateful that they had removed her before she could see him lose his composure. Lucius arrived shortly after, waltzing into the room.
“What in the world did they say to you?” Lucius asked curiously, taking in his friend’s distressed appearance.
“They smiled at me. Brightly.” He ground out.
“Smiles? It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.”
Snape looked at his long-time friend gravely before answering.
“It’s the end of an era, Lucius.”
“Indeed.”
That should have been his warning that the girl was clearly deranged from the stress of the last few years of the war. It should have triggered his survival instincts to run as far away as possible, but he was quickly caught up in his trial, acquittal, and general readjustment to surviving what should not be survived. A few years later the marriage law came about. Severus Snape wasn’t particularly worried. At the respected age of forty-three with an order of merlin of his own, it was unlikely that he would be included. He and a recently widowed Lucius had gotten together for drinks one night and even laughed about it. Poor Narcissa had been hit with a fatal curse during the battle and managed to hold on for quite a few years, long enough to see Draco settled comfortably with Astoria Greengrass. Even Draco hadn’t the gall to smile in such a way at him and he was the boy’s godfather.
So it was beyond reasonable that he was surprised to receive a letter from the ministry concerning the marriage law. Not only did it apply to him, they had already chosen his match. He’d been incredibly angry and ready to storm the ministry right until the moment he had read her name on the stiff parchment. His anger was immediately forgotten and he laughed heartily even though there was nothing funny about it. The papers said something about a compatibility score and if he was honest it was at least a little bit funny. They had matched him with Hermione Granger, his former student, fellow hero, and publicly acknowledged girlfriend of Ronald Weasley. The golden trio had been in the papers for years and the pair was one of the favourite couples keeping the gossip columns funded.
It was always trash about them breaking up and making up in some dramatic new way, but it should have been understood by the ministry that they had made a mistake. When he’d finished laughing about it, he sat down to write a letter to the ministry about said mistake. He arranged for a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and didn’t bother preparing any scathing remarks. If he knew Hermione Granger she would have so many of her own that there wouldn’t be any room for him to speak. That was certainly where he’d made the mistake: assuming he knew the girl’s mind after having taught her and graded her ridiculous student essays. It had simply never occurred to him that the girl was no longer a girl.
It was a teaching instinct, he reflected, to have difficulty accepting that your students would eventually become adults contributing to wizarding society one day. It was easy to get caught in the day to day aspects of teaching adolescents with their childish theatrics and forget the big picture.
He had been sitting smugly in Shacklebolt’s office, waiting for the little lion girl to join them when his mental image of her began to crumble. He might have even been smiling, looking forward to the nasty things she might say when at the height of irritation. The door to the office clicked open softly and she let herself in. Her hair was still wild, but she was definitely not the eleven-year-old chit with her hand in the air that he remembered. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen her since that day in the hospital room. They had certainly attended all the war hero memorials and appearances, and even been forced to take photos together. He just hadn’t really looked at her until that moment. She sauntered over the desk wearing a half smile as she carefully sat in the second chair facing Shacklebolt. Gone was the awkward and emotional creature he knew and in her place sat a grown witch. Perhaps she was planning to use a finessed approach to the meeting.
“What seems to be the problem, Kingsley?” she asked, crossing her legs primly. He could tell from her body language that she knew exactly why they were there and was biding her time. There was a sneakiness about her.
“Have you received your match notice from the ministry concerning the marriage law?” the minister asked gently. This was it. He prepared to cover his ears gleefully while she yelled at the man.
“Ah yes. The special match notice. Yes, I did.” She answered. Severus waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he glanced between the two. What the devil was she doing? Perhaps she had already solved the problem by greasing a few choice palms. It was the only reason she could be so irritatingly calm at this moment.
“How do you feel about it?” Kingsley asked, drumming his fingers on the desktop nervously. She leaned back in the chair, examining her nails for a moment before looking back at the minister.
“It’s acceptable.” She answered nonchalantly. Severus swung around in his chair to examine her, feeling incredibly let down. This was not how he had hoped for the meeting to go, not even close. Had they called the wrong woman?
“Have you read it?” Severus spoke for the first time since she had entered the room. She turned to look at him. She was examining him with a neutral expression.
“Yes, I did. I just haven’t gotten around to owling you about a date yet.”
“If you’ll both excuse me, I will be back in a few moments.” Kingsley said, escaping the room. Evidently the man still had a sense for danger. More than Hermione Granger, who looked at him as if she had just remarked that the weather was a bit chilly in the evenings.
“You realize-” Severus tried again. “-that I am your match.” He said it slowly, hoping that she had misunderstood something. Even as he said it, he knew the likelihood was small. Her eyes were as knowledgeable as ever. She licked her lower lip thoughtfully before slowly smiling at him. It was different than the two smiles she had shown him in the hospital room. The first time she had been smiling with authentic happiness. The second smile had been more than a little condescending. The smile she wore now was predatory and more than a little frightening.
“Sir, do you mind if I call you by your first name? I think calling you professor at this point would be a little awkward.” He grumbled at her side stepping of the issue before nodding his assent. Normally he wouldn’t address her question but it was evident that she wasn’t going to continue speaking until he responded. Clearly he had missed something and it bothered him. He was almost certain now that she wasn’t Hermione Granger at all but an assassin sent by death eater sympathizers. She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair before placing her chin on her fist, meeting his gaze with a serious expression. “Severus, why are you against this match?” He shot out of the chair and began pacing with anxious energy.
“Are you serious?” he asked, finally willing himself to meet her eyes again.
“Deadly serious.” She said. She patted the chair he had jumped out of. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
“Why aren’t you against this match?” he asked, ignoring her invitation. He did not come prepared for this and he was nervous. Whatever the dark lord or Dumbledore had done, neither had ever propositioned him in the guise of a confident woman.
“Should I be?” she asked, drawing her eyebrows together thoughtfully.
“Bloody hell, yes! What are you going to tell Weasley?” he began his tirade. He had spent so much time preparing to hear her arguments that he was immediately ready to voice them.
“Well, I thought I would tell him that he could bring his girlfriend to the ceremony but he doesn’t have to come if it bothers you that much.” Hermione answered, uncrossing her legs.
“What are you saying? Isn’t that you?” he asked. She snorted derisively at the implication. He finally returned to the seat if only to express how exasperating the situation was becoming.
“I’m not Ron’s girlfriend. How did you get that impression?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“It’s in the papers at least once a month – there are pictures.” He said as he tried to reign himself in. If he lost control again she was going to smile at him condescendingly again and then the meeting would end without him resolving anything. This was quickly becoming a battle and he was losing to a woman nearly twenty years his junior whom he himself had taught.
“Severus Snape.” She said glibly. She was covering her mouth with her hands but he just knew that she was wearing that condescending smile again. “I never thought I would ever find myself in this position, so you must forgive me at least this much cheek. You don’t believe everything you read, do you?” She was referring to his snide comments back when she was in school.
“Do not play with fire, girl.” He said darkly. She managed to look sorry, and nodded. She wasn’t scared, but it was a start.
“For the last few years we war heroes have had precious little privacy, and there are people who want to tear us down. Any person would want to protect their girlfriend from that for as long as they could. Now that they’re getting married, they don’t need me anymore.” Severus saw her tug on one of her wild curls suggestively and the word polyjuice came to mind.
“You honestly see no problem with marrying your former professor?” he asked raising one eyebrow.
“You haven’t been my teacher for years, and the papers are going to write nonsense about me regardless of what I do.” She was still sitting comfortably in that damn chair, and he suspected that this had been her plan all along. She had gotten comfortable not so that she could yell at Kingsley but for this. He didn’t let the desperation he was feeling reach his eyes.
“I am twice your age.” He pointed out curtly. He would not go so low as to degrade his own appearance, so his age was as close to the subject as he was comfortable discussing.
“That’s surprisingly ageist of you. Are you implying that you’re too old to marry?” she asked, looking affronted. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me that I’m too young despite the fact that we are both legal adults. How patronizing.”
“I was a death eater.” He continued, noting with some small panic that he was coming to the end of his mental list of reasons she should be rejecting this match.
“Emphasis on was. You’re a hero now that your cloak and dagger days are over.” She said, waving away his final argument. He quietly sat and searched his mind for something else to say. “Now, if you have any legitimate reasons for rejecting the match I will listen to you seriously.” This was a crucial moment, and he was lost. He cursed himself for getting soft after the war had ended.
“You have ulterior motives.” He said at last. Her lips quirked into the half smile she’d been wearing when she entered the room.
“You’re right. Perhaps I’m marrying you so I’ll inherit the rest of your old marked up textbooks.” She teased lightly.
“The legacy of the half blood prince left to the Gryffindor princess, how ridiculous.” He intoned with a hint of sarcasm. She chuckled at the inside joke, and he chose not to glower at her if only because he was sure he would find it funny himself tomorrow when he was far away from this farce of a meeting.
“I find you more than acceptable. I like you, even. You’re brilliant, funny, and I respect you. I think we’d be quite compatible. My career and research plans would fit very comfortably with your values.” She explained evenly. He raised both eyebrows incredulously.
“How presumptuous. What do you know about my values?”
“I know that if I said I wanted to go do research in another part of the world for six months, you’d probably be so happy that you’d pack my trunk for me. I also know that you hate being a celebrity and would prefer peace and privacy like myself. Furthermore, you’re not the type of man to chain me to the kitchen and expect me to produce a quidditch team of children. Ideally, we will never discuss quidditch at all. Quiet evenings with a book and a cup of tea, maybe a little chat about our projects, that’s all I’m asking you for.”
“I can’t love you.” He said quietly.
“I will never ask for that. If you ever found that you could, I would be pleased but I don’t have any expectations of that kind. I only desire your respect and honesty at any given moment.” The conversation had turned serious and quiet, all thoughts of rage past. He was seriously considering her offer now.
“And marital relations? Are you so serious that you’ve considered that much?” he asked, searching her face for any sign that she was repulsed.
“I won’t force you, I’m not a monster. Whatever you prefer.” She answered without missing a beat.
“You would endure not only a loveless marriage but a sexless marriage if I asked?” he asked, surprise on his features.
“Let me ask you a question, Severus. Have you ever eaten a fresh fig?”
“No, though I hardly see the relevance-”
“If I said that you could never have one, would you be terribly upset?”
“Of course not.”
“You can’t miss what you’ve never had, right? Maybe once in a while you’ll think about it but it is merely a passing fancy. I am very capable of taking care of myself.” She missed neither the tightness in his shoulders or the subtle darkening of his eyes at that moment. “If you’d like, I could give you a demonstration.” She smiled wickedly.
“Marry me.” He replied throatily. The words were out before he could stop them. She pulled the paperwork from her satchel and placed it on the desk in front of him.
“Should I? Perhaps I’m having second thoughts.” She said playfully as she set a quill on top of the papers. Oh, he wasn’t having any of that. She had tricked him into admitting that he was an old pervert so as far as he was concerned she was stuck with him. It would be far more embarrassing to not marry her at this point.
“Too late.” He said, noting that the paperwork was complete with the exception of the signatures. “I did warn you about playing with fire.”
Two days later, Severus finished telling the story to a very quiet Lucius over some firewhiskey. He sighed deeply.
“Can you believe it? Outwitted by a girl half my age, and a Gryffindor, no less.” He said, contemplating the amber liquid in his glass. Lucius put down his glass on the table between them with a loud noise. Severus turned his eyes to his friend whose eyes were blazing in the firelight of his lavish study. He wondered what manner of insults he was preparing to describe the girl.
“Severus, are you bragging?” Lucius asked cautiously.
“What? Not at all. Were you even listening?” Severus eyed the man while trying not to let his confusion show. Hermione had married him right there in the office with Kingsley as their witness, taken him to her flat before shagging him senseless. Then she had left him a note that she was off to finish her second apprenticeship in Scotland and that she would come see him in a month when she graduated. She hadn’t been kidding about disappearing, and he refused to feel disappointed about it. If he was going to brag about anything, it would have been the shagging.
“A woman half your age, the brightest witch of her age no less, outmaneuvered you all so that she could marry you.” Lucius summarized. Severus looked away as his cheeks coloured before he could control it.
“I was manipulated.” He pressed the point.
“That’s generally what wives do. She is merely proving her aptitude for the role.”
“I was afraid you might say something like that.” Severus groaned.
“If you’re suffering so much from this arrangement, give her to me.”
“You’re joking.” Severus said, setting his own glass down with a bit more force than necessary.
“You said it yourself, it’s the end of an era. Do you know how much influence I would gain in this new world with one of its saviours at my side? Not only would I be considered a reformed man, I would be the object of envy to have such a young wife.”
“She’s not one of your damn birds, Lucius.” Severus hissed, crossing his arms.
“What do you care? It’s not as if you want her.” Lucius said, quite calmly. “Do you honestly think that Narcissa and I were a love match?”
“I will say this one time. I am not giving you my wife.” He punctuated each word and glared darkly over at his friend. Besides the obvious reasons that his wife was a human being who clearly made her own decisions, he knew that the life she had described to him was the opposite of what Lucius could give her. She had asked for quiet evenings with a book, not fancy parties and numerous photographs for the newspaper as the world judged her every move. It occurred to him then that what she had been saying was not as mad as he had previously thought. He eased back into the winged high back chair and huffed. His irritation melted away, and he picked up his glass from the table to take a sip. Lucius was giving his approval of the match in his usual slytherin manner. It was so like him to say these things just to rile him up and make him re-visualize the problem. Lucius spoke again after they had been drinking in silence for ten minutes.
“I see. Perhaps a compromise; good friends share things, don’t they?”. Severus rolled his eyes dramatically, choosing not to rise to the bait. “I seem to recall Narcissa and myself graciously offering you company while you were mourning. And here I am, widowed and sad.” Severus growled under his breath warningly.
On the other hand, Lucius Malfoy could just be a randy bastard.