Omnia Mutantur, Nos Et Mutamur In Illis

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything recognizable to the HP-Universe, JK Rowling does. I'm not making any money off the writing of this fanfic.

Yule, or Christmastime, as Hermione Mugglishly thought of it, was always a somber occasion for her. Even before her parents abruptly left her life, the Christmas holiday had always been quietly choreographed and filled with private introspection, born out of years of candlelight services and a strong Methodist upbringing. Like most differences between the Muggle and wizarding realms, Hermione felt the division acutely.

Weasley Yule celebrations had an uncanny way of driving home the fact that she skirted both worlds and yet felt like a native in neither. Had her mother still been around, she would have dismissed Hermione's wistful longing to belong with flippant antipathy. According to her mum, the wizarding world was "chock full of goat-worshipping, hell-bound Satanists, Pagans, and Druids."

Dad, however, was a deacon in the church of Saint Mattress of Posturepedic, but made an effort 'round the holidays to string up lights and play carols. Hermione always supposed the high number of suicides during the holidays had something to do with the sappy carols that played nonstop on every fucking radio station. Coincidence? It seemed that there might be a cause and effect relationship there.

Hermione's mind rested on none of these things as she gathered with the rest of the extended and adopted Weasley Clan for Christmas Eve. For all intents and purposes, she could well have been a million of miles away, though Ginny, who had an amazing gift for perception, knew her friend was dwelling on someone confined a bit closer, the North Sea in particular.

Mrs. Weasley also noticed her adopted daughter's distance and attributed her apparent sadness to having made a lamentable life-choice, one she had strongly cautioned against.

She felt it was unnatural that a witch would deny herself a proper husband, that she had thrown her life away on a man who could provide her with neither affection nor children. To say Molly Weasley was quite disappointed in her decision was an understatement, but there was no going back. Hermione had gone and stuck her foot in it for good.

Molly's displeasure might also have had something to do with Hermione's rejection of two of her sons. The silly business with Ron during his school days was easy for them all to forget. The children did love each other immensely, or as Hermione put a fine point on it, 'loved each other immensely like brother and sister.' But then there was the business with Charlie.

Charlie was a good boy, and Molly had only the highest hopes for the two of them when they paired up. They were an excellent match for each other, and Hermione would have filled the Burrow with another generation of Weasley children, if Molly had her way. Charlie even fell head over heels for the Muggle-born witch, but it wasn't enough for her. She'd kicked him over, too. For a career. Molly occasionally wondered if Rita Skeeter hadn't pinned her right all those years ago; the witch was a heartbreaker.

Perhaps it was a good thing though, Molly reasoned. Ever since Hermione's business had taken off, her life had turned into a mess. She didn't date, she didn't socialize, and she didn't go anywhere.

When forced by Ministry decree to take a husband and have children, she took Snape and turned her back on all the love, support, and nurturing motherhood had to offer. This didn't sit at all well with the Weasley matriarch. It was unnatural.

Hermione had to know she'd be miserable, the poor sap she'd married would be miserable, and her resulting offspring would resent her. Nobody deserved that. Well, maybe Snape did.

The Weasley living room was a cacophony of sound as several generations of the family told stories in their characteristically jolly manner, traded gossip, and played an occasional good-humored prank on one other. It was difficult not to get caught up in the pervasive warm spirit of the occasion amongst the flickering candlelight and comfort foods. Of course, Hermione knew from personal experience that poignant family moments only lasted until one of the brothers suggested a good rousing game of 'smell my finger.'

Between loud renditions of traditional wizarding carols sung karaoke-style to Celestina Warbeck on the WWN, Ron clanked his glass to call the chaos to order as he attempted in a slightly slurred voice to make a toast. All eyes turned towards him and the young witch he'd brought with him that evening, a perky blond who'd twined herself around him like Devil's Snare, regardless of the reproving looks from Molly Weasley.

"Um, Happy Christmas everyone!" He glanced down apprehensively at his guest. "Well, actually, what I wanted to say is, um, this is Becky, and she's just agreed to marry me."

There was only a slight pause before the Weasley clan descended on their youngest son, offering heartfelt congratulations and squeezing the breath from his fiancée. Though everyone knew it was less than ideal to take up with a virtual stranger and just get married, Ministry deadlines were looming and many such weddings were in the works. Hermione silently thanked the gods she had the foresight not to procrastinate as she gave her best wishes to the happy couple.

Ginny appeared at her shoulder with a slightly twisted frown. Hermione knew that look.

"Go for a walk?" she offered, looking out at the gently swirling snow.

Ginny gathered their cloaks, and the girls slipped away unnoticed from the celebration. Together, they quietly strolled the property around the Burrow, leaving faint tracks in the fresh snowfall. Eventually, they circled back and found a clean place to sit behind Arthur's shed.

"Have you met Becky before?" Hermione opened.

Ginny shook her head. "No, but she seems nice, I guess."

"Well, she certainly does like him. I thought the poor girl was going to go into withdrawal for the few minutes she didn't have her hands all over him."

Ginny giggled and Hermione relaxed just a bit. Ginny needed some laughter in her life. The Ministry edicts would only give her a few months past her next birthday to find a husband before they found one for her.

"Yeah, I saw that, too. I think she had one of her hands down his pants." Ginny smiled and shook her head again. "Quidditch groupies, they're all the same."

"So? Go on any good dates lately?"

"No. I don't know why I even bother; the Ministry will probably just pair me up whoever is left over, anyway."

"Gin, don't think like that!"

"Why, it's true, you know. Though Harry did say if I got desperate enough, he'd be willing."

The girls turned their heads back towards the warmth of the house where Harry sat cuddled up close with his lover, Ollie. They both knew that, even though Harry's offer was sweet and entirely altruistic, it wasn't realistic. Or right. Ginny wasn't keen on bonding herself to Harry when it went against his natural persuasion. That would be horrible. All new marriages came with a certified-approved Ministry backed Fidelity Charm.

The current Fidelity Charm had been approved along with the Marriage Law legislation, and small, embarrassing snippets of articles were popping up in publications all over, suggesting that perhaps the Ministry hadn't worked all of the bugs out of the charm before mandating it. With glitches in the charm, however, there was no reliable way of knowing how the charm would react on a wizard with an intrinsic desire to be female, as magic could be directed and redirected by the force of a person's intention. Hermione was still galled to no end that an entire generation of witches had been sold in lot into sexual slavery, and to add insult to injury, the Ministry had placed a charm on their persons that was unpredictable and possibly harmful.

The Fidelity Charm only 'warded' against intercourse that resulted in procreation, and an awkwardly worded informational Ministry pamphlet described that oral and anal sodomy were not affected. Hermione surmised the reasoning was so that the old lecherous geezers...who had written the law to forcibly ensnare healthy young witches...could still get their jollies to their heart's content without having to remain completely faithful to their witch. After all, oral sex and buggery tended to favor the pleasure of selfish male lovers.

"It'll all work out, Gin. I have faith that it will."

"Like it did with you and Snape?" She gave a mirthless laugh.

"Actually..."

Ginny stared at her, her mouth slightly open. "I knew it!"

"What?" Hermione asked defensively. "I'm just saying it's not as bad as I feared it would be. It's actually working out quite well."

Ginny looked like she wanted to protest before closing her mouth and adding, "I figured it had to be something like that. I know you're going over there every night. Though it did take me awhile to work out where you were disappearing to."

Hermione twitched uncomfortably. She just didn't know how to talk about all the conflicting feelings she'd been bottling up. How could she explain to Ginny that her evenings with Snape, the evil, murdering Death Eater, were pleasant? More than pleasant. Comfortable. Happy, even. That she enjoyed every rare glimpse of his dimple and mischievous quirk of his eyebrows. It would be easy to simply dismiss their relationship as amicable because they were intellectual equals, but it was frustratingly more complex than that. Hermione couldn't possibly begin to describe to another how she felt, when she didn't really understand any of it herself.

"What's wrong?" Ginny prodded. "Hermione, 'fess up. Something's eating you."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands and moaned. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I wasn't supposed to actually care for him."

Ginny gasped. "You like him? You like Snape! Hermione, what the hell are you thinking? We all thought you were crazy for marrying him, but have you lost your ever-loving mind? He's a Death Eater! He murdered Professor Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake."

Hermione bit her lip, and Ginny saw tears collecting in her eyes. "But that's just it. I'm not so certain he did, anymore."

"Hermione, maybe we ought to go inside. You're not thinking straight. Maybe it's all the cauldron fumes, or stress from work...."

"I went to see Dumbledore's portrait, and do you know what he told me? He said Severus was acting under orders."

"Yes, 'Mione, we've all heard that before, but he's a portrait. You can't take that stuff seriously; he's not actually Professor Dumbledore. You can't believe what a painting says over what Harry witnessed, or what everyone knows to be true. Snape's not innocent."

Hermione scrubbed the wet from her eyelashes and tried to compose herself before she lost it. She hadn't been able to visit Severus since her conversation with Mr. Ffoulkes. She couldn't see him. She couldn't face him. Hermione could only manage to drop by take-away food for Severus and the boys before going home and crashing on the couch. She didn't think her life could possibly get more upside down and complicated when she married the taciturn wizard.

The Headmaster's confession still hung heavy like a weight on her shoulders. She hadn't been able to ask what form of compulsion to obey Severus had been under while the Headmaster was still alive, or even if he was still under obligation as death did not necessitate the dissolution of a vow. The old tosspot had feigned sleep. Had he been corporeal and Hermione a bit better recovered from her shock, she might have strangled him until those twinkling blue eyes bulged. There were many ways in the wizarding world to force someone to comply with orders, and not all of them involved Dark magic or Imperius. Then again, academically speaking, 'Dark magic' was loosely defined and depended entirely upon the ethics of whatever idiot or Ministry stooge was writing definitions.

She had known that the Headmaster believed Severus could never betray them. He had said many times that his faith in the Potion master was unshakable, but that was before he was tossed off a tower. Now, Hermione saw the implication that Headmaster Dumbledore had either given the order or allowed Severus Snape to betray him. The thought alone was enough to send her mind reeling.

She had told him it was not her place to pry, and then had researched every bit of information she could about him. She had not asked about the Headmaster because it seemed much too personal, more so than asking if he had ever had a girlfriend, and had sought out behind his back the Headmaster's portrait. Wait! It wasn't as if she had gone behind his back. She didn't need his permission, he didn't know any better, and well, the man was in Azkaban, but Hermione still felt guilty for her actions. She had pried, and the answers she had uncovered only led to more questions. Many more questions. She was afraid she was going to have to pry. Again.

"He might be," Hermione said quietly. "I only went to Professor Dumbledore's portrait after his lawyer, Mr. Ffoulkes, told me he was innocent. Professor Dumbledore said Ffoulkes has evidence exonerating him from the crime. I knew something was fishy during the contract negotiations, when he said Severus could be released from prison. I just didn't think it could possibly be true."

Hermione grimaced, thinking back to Harry. True, he was passionately in love with Ollie, and the two of them hadn't budged from the couch all night, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding her. Had been avoiding her since she married Severus. Originally, Hermione assumed it was old schoolyard grudges that had driven a wedge, and it wasn't as if anyone really approved of their union, but now... Now, she didn't know what to think. Was it possible that he knew something about Severus? Hermione shook her head slightly, clearing out all the paranoid conspiracy theories that had been swimming just below the surface of her mind.

Ginny intently listened to her best friend. "You've got to think clearly about this, Hermione. If he were innocent, he wouldn't be sitting in Azkaban. It makes no sense."

"Yes, yes it does. Just because he may be innocent doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilty. He told me he keeps himself in prison. I just chose not to listen to it."

"So what now?"

"Now? I don't know, Ginny. I just don't know."

They sat together in silence, watching heavy snowflakes spin and dance before kissing the ground.

*

A/N:

Chapter title: Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis - All things are changing, and we are changing with them

Special, wonderful thanks to my Beta, Christev20. You're fabulous! I lay flowers at your feet.