Via Media

During the two weeks between their respective meetings, several things happened. Hermione received a heavy stack of marriage proposals from wizards spread far and wide. They were all so very concerned that a vivacious, young, and nationally recognized celebrity would be forced to take a husband, but were willing to sacrifice themselves to the cause. Each proposal was politely returned with a short note written on parchment saturated in itchy-scrot powder.

And quite predictably, Ron stopped by Hermione's modest flat, ring box in hand with large puppy dog eyes and dreams of gingerheaded ankle-biters squealing and playing at their feet.

"'Mione," Ron descended onto one wobbly knee. "Please, 'Mione, I know we've had our rough patches, but you know we've always had more good times than bad. And I know that our future together will be more filled with more good times. I can make you happy, 'Mione." He opened the jeweler's box to display a small diamond and a toothy grin. "Please."

Hermione had to hold back a scowl and tread lightly. He sounded pathetic, but Ron meant well. Not that she'd ever take him up on his offer; Ron wanted a mother, not a wife, as if one Molly Weasley wasn't quite enough. She motioned for him to get up and watched him struggle to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I just can't."

To his credit Ron didn't immediately flop around like a fish demanding 'whys' and 'what fors'; he just looked genuinely confused. "I don't get it, 'Mione; I thought you'd want this."

"You know I don't love you like that."

"Well, not now, but it could be like that, and really, 'Mione, who else could there be?"

There was Charlie... They'd once had a rather passionate relationship, so passionate that after their break-up they couldn't stand to be in the same room together without palms itching to grab their respective wands or whatever heavy object was within reach.

She blamed the whole dragon thing. If he hadn't been living the life of a roguish international dragon wrangler, she'd never have given another Weasley a second glance, but his hazardous life on the edge had taunted her. It had dared her to flirt, made vague promises that Charlie Weasley was a bit of a bad boy, a rebel, and Hermione had always inexplicably been drawn to the wrong sort. Which was why poor Ron, all clammy hands and easygoing manner, had no chance at all.

"I see," she said coldly, even though she expected this argument. "So you're proposing marriage because you don't think anyone else could possibly be interested in me?" She was picking a fight, Hermione knew it, but damn it, ever since the Marriage Law had been enacted, she had wanted a fight. She was channeling her inner bitch.

"No! No!" Ron quickly retracted. "I don't mean it like that and you know it. I just thought... I just thought... you know, we'd be together, like we always were meant to be. We make a good team, 'Mione, we could be happy together." Ron was trying hard. She could yell at him, make him feel wretched and enjoy laughing at his pain, but it was hard to scream at someone who was trying so hard to support her.

She shook her head. "I know, Ron, but I've made other plans for myself. I'll be fine. Besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint the girls, now, would you?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Eh, I was bound to settle down sometime," he shrugged. "So you've really made other plans? I'm sorry; I should have talked to you first. I guess I just figured you'd need help." He closed the ring box and shoved it carelessly in the back pocket of his jeans. The serious business of marriage was quickly forgotten, but then Ron was as deep as an inkpot.

Hermione snorted. "When have I ever pulled the damsel in distress act?"

Ron shuffled his feet and smiled again; right then, he was utterly adorable. "Never," he admitted. "I should have known you'd find a way around this. So what is it, 'Mione? Where's the loophole?"

"As far as I can tell, there isn't any. I've been sifting through it for the better part of a month, and I can't find a damn thing to exclude myself, short of permanently binding my powers, breaking my wand, and going Muggle." She enjoyed watching him shudder at that. It wasn't an option.

"So..." he said in a forcefully casual manner. "You're getting married then... Do I know the lucky bloke?"

Hermione felt for her wand, just in case. "It's Snape."

Her words took a moment to register. "What do you mean, Snape?" She could tell he was trying to think of some other Snape.

"Sit," she commanded, and like a good little boy, Ron slumped into her overstuffed couch. "I'm marrying Professor Snape." She held up her hand, holding off whatever overblown reaction was boiling to the surface. "I have my reasons."

"To marry the traitor? He's a murdering Death Eater!"

"Yes, and he's a right nasty bastard with bad teeth and weird fashion sense. I've got all that, Ron, thank you very much. But he also happens to be serving a life sentence. Several in fact."

"But... but..." Ron sputtered before recognition dawned on him. He may have been a bit thick, but Ron understood strategy. Hermione watched in amusement as he gaped before breaking into a big smile. "That's bloody brilliant."

"I thought so, myself."

"So you won't have to see him ever again."

She shrugged her shoulders haphazardly. "Eh, we're working out an agreement right now. I'll probably have to bring him a subscription to the Daily Prophet or some Honeydukes chocolate every now and then, but that's it."

Ron cleared his throat loudly. "But, 'Mione, you wouldn't have to... um... you know."

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a deadly glare. "No, I won't," she said quietly.

The wizarding world firmly believed in the superiority of blood, from classifying pure-bloods to subjugating 'uppity Muggle-borns' who had the gall to request things such as equality. Much as the eugenics movement of the early twentieth century sterilized many undesirable breeders in mental institutions, the wizarding world firmly believed its prisoners had no right to breed either. Criminals begat more criminals. Azkaban was charmed specifically so that conception could not take place within its walls.

Aside from all that, Severus Snape was classified as one of the most dangerous inmates. As per his punishment of a life sentence, he was forbidden from engaging in sexual intercourse (section 4, paragraph 6, sub-section 3a); therefore, it was all a moot point, as far as Hermione was concerned.

"He's not permitted those sorts of visits."

Ron smiled a looked very relieved. "Thank Merlin! Could you imagine..." He shuddered and looked a bit peaked. "Ugh!"

"My thoughts exactly."

Hermione watched his eyes glaze over just a bit as if he were trying to wrestle with a concept just a bit beyond his reach. He wore the same indecipherable look as he had when she'd stupidly forced him to watch the Jeremy Irons movie, 'Kafka.' Watching those same eyes rove over an unseen problem like an oyster worrying a pearl, Hermione waited patiently for the questions that were coming.

"But, 'Mione, I know we're talking about Snape, ick and all, but that means you won't be able to be a Mummy. I mean, you would give up all that?"

She rubbed her forehead, preparing herself to delicately explain something no Weasley would ever understand. "Ron, listen to me again, that's exactly why I'm marrying the man in the first place. If I only wanted someone I could control, hell, I'd go after that fool Lockhart and be done with it. But I don't want children. Marrying Snape affords me that kind of protection."

For a moment Ron looked as if he'd been struck. "You can't really mean that, 'Mione."

"Of course I do."

"But... but..." She looked at him expectantly waiting for his thoughts to clear well enough to form a proper sentence. Hermione briefly considered coaching him on subject/verb agreements. Finally he sighed. "You're a witch, you're supposed to want babies."

"Maybe. But I don't." Really was it that hard to understand? Apparently it was.

"Well, maybe not now, but what about later, 'Mione? You can't throw away the possibility forever just because you don't want them now. I mean, Mum says all witches go through their nesting phase. Maybe you just haven't started nesting yet."

"Nesting?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Ron nodded absolutely confident in his knowledge and happy to have an opportunity to impart words of wisdom on Hermione for a change. "When witches hit a certain age, they start preparing a nest...you know, meeting wizards who'd make good fathers, getting a bigger flat." He glanced around her uninviting, sparse living space. It certainly didn't welcome guests, much less children. "Nesting. Like a bird would."

"Aha. I see." Hermione paused for a moment, ostensibly to indicate that Ron's words had sunk in. "Nope. Still not for me. Sorry, Ron, maybe it's a Muggle-born thing."

She watched him rub his back pocket where the ring box was, knowing he felt genuinely relieved she had turned him down. In a way, Hermione was a bit saddened that this ugly business had come between them.

"Don't worry, this will all turn out for the best."

He grumbled a bit.

"I didn't catch that."

"I said I just wished it didn't have to be Snape."

Hermione nodded sagaciously. "Yeah, but rather the devil you know than the devil you don't."

*

A/N:

Chapter title: Via Media - The Middle Path

Special thanks to my fantastic betas, christev20 and AnnieTalbot!