Amor Tussisque Non Celantur

"Wow... this is just... wow," Ginny breathed, her mouth gaping open and her eyes riveted.

"You've said that already, but what do you actually think of it?" Hermione timidly questioned as her teeth worried her bottom lip.

"It's... well, um... if it's true, that is... then it's absolutely brilliant." Ginny took a swipe at an errant tear that began to trickle down her cheek.

For a solid week, Severus had done absolutely nothing but write. He hadn't touched a single distributor's report or product review. He'd been covering rolls and rolls of parchment with cramped, spindly handwriting, and there didn't seem to be any stopping him in the foreseeable future.

Hermione had taken to dropping off food and supplies and beating a hasty exit, as the surly wizard was even more difficult to live with while he was engrossed in his manuscript. Every attempt at conversation was met with a grunt or harsh glare. But there was no denying the quality of his work or, as Ginny said, that it was absolutely brilliant.

"Gods, 'Mione, you must be like the luckiest witch in the world to be married to him."

"What?" she shrieked, not intending to sound as high pitched as she did.

Ginny's eyes shone with a disturbing amount of tears. "It's so beautiful. He must be so romantic to live with. Even his description of the dirty scavenger birds picking at the litter around his home is poetic."

Unbidden, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips; Severus was able to channel his silken voice into a finely crafted narrative. His style oozed sensuality as he coupled compelling imagery with brutally raw emotion. Hermione was determined that for her next great 'invention' she was going to bring books on tape to the wizarding world. There was no way his story would be done justice without his round diphthongs and captivating vowel sounds to purr it out.

"Gin, have you lost your mind, girl? Have you forgotten this is Snape we're talking about? I thought you hated him. What happened to the evil, murdering traitor Snape?" She ignored the nagging tug at the back of her skull that scolded her. She was a hypocrite.

Ginny sniffed a bit and dabbed her eyelashes. "I know," she wailed, "but he was just a little boy, Hermione... just a kid..." The rest of her words were completely unintelligible as they were drowned out in sobs.

Fortunately, she cradled the parchment tightly to her breasts, or else, his lyrical writing would have been dissolved by tear blotches. Severus would have had a cow. Hermione wouldn't put it past him to break out of Azkaban, stab the redhead to death with an ink-stained quill, dance a lively jig on her grave, and then slip back into his cell to write a few more chapters.

"Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Gin, get a grip."

Ginny waved Hermione off as she reluctantly set the manuscript down, caressing it with her gaze. "When will the next chapter be done?"

"Seriously? I don't know. He seems to write in mad spurts and just throws whole sections at me at a time."

Internally, Hermione berated herself. She should have just taken the rolls to Luna instead of sharing with Ginny, but how was she supposed to know that Severus' most resolute critic would fall to pieces? She needed to get Ginny laid. And fast.

"You've got to let me read it the moment he's finished. I've just got to know what happens."

"What happens? Gin, you know what happens. He becomes a Death Eater, murders Dumbledore, and goes to prison. The End."

"Why are you doing this, Hermione? Why are you acting like you're not affected? Like you don't care? I don't know how you can be so cruel."

She shrugged. "I'm not; I just choose not to lose my objectivity. I know the man, Gin. Hell, I practically live with him, and though I'll admit he's not as bad as I suspected he'd be, I'm still not going to idolize him. He's not a nice person. He'll never be a nice person. He's just as mean and taciturn now as he ever was." The words sounded cold coming out of her mouth as Hermione held herself back defensively.

"Well, I'm not buying it," Ginny said with a sharp intake of breath. "I think you're avoiding the truth. I think it's eating you up that you actually fancy your husband. And I think you're ashamed of it."

If they didn't have years of friendship to draw on, Hermione might have used a litany of colorful words to describe Ginevra Weasley. And while a good cat fight wasn't completely out of order, Hermione was unwilling to let her know she'd touched a nerve. A very raw nerve. "I might," she said uneasily. "Severus is... difficult. He pries into absolutely everything, and he can be a real horrid bastard, but..."

"But?" Ginny coached with a sly smile. Gin was always a girl up for the gory details of any relationship.

Hermione eyed her friend closely; she feared the rejection that was certain to come from her Weasley family if they knew the truth. If they knew that their darling Gryffindor princess was falling for the biggest snake in Slytherin, they wouldn't understand. To them, he was still the Traitor, the murdering wizard who had struck Dumbledore down, casting him cruelly off the Astronomy tower. Molly had thrown a massive shit-fit when she found out Hermione had married the man, but at least she seemed to sort of understand Hermione's cold logic, even if she was put out. Molly was ruthless in her own right. Hermione was using the bastard; that was nearly acceptable.

Loving him? Having a real marriage, even one in an Azkaban cell, that was tantamount to her throwing her lot in with the traitorous wizard. She lived in a world of darkness and light. Good and bad. Severus was one of the bad guys, or so everyone thought. To reveal that she stood alongside Severus Snape was to stand on the wrong side of the dividing line.

Hermione bit her lip, wondering how much she could actually reveal before being decried a traitor, too, but found no malice in Ginny's eager expression. Her girlfriend just wanted to dish some good girl talk, and Hermione relaxed, breathing just a bit easier. Perhaps she just needed to trust a friend. Ginny had never judged her too harshly before, and if she empathized with Severus' chapters about his early childhood, maybe she'd understand. The last time she had talked to Ginny about her suspicions that Severus was innocent, she was met with open hostility. Apparently, the hostility only extended to Severus' innocence; gossip was perfectly acceptable.

"But... I like him."

"Like?" Ginny asked dubiously. "'Mione, you're the witch with the fifty Sickle vocabulary, and you 'like' him? I think you're doing a lot more than 'liking' him. So, fess up, what's it like shagging Snape?"

"Ginny!" Hermione loudly squeaked before lowering her voice. "I'm not shagging Severus."

"Really, what a pity. With that nose and those hands, I'd be willing to bet he's got something worth having between his legs."

Hermione's head fell heavily into her hands as her cheeks burned. A repressed mental image from when she had caught Severus doing push-ups in his cell, sweaty and clad in tailored trousers, came to her mind's eye. Was it wrong to want to lick a trail up and down that chest? Life would have been much easier if she had stayed on her Liquid Sunshine. The potion had a wonderful side affect of suppressing all those distressing thoughts and urges.

"All right," Hermione confessed, feeling much like a blushing third-year, "I fancy Snape. I like my husband. Is that a crime?"

"No," Ginny smiled glibly, as if she'd won something, "I just wanted to hear you admit it."

"I don't want to talk about Severus Snape any more tonight. So... tell me... how was your date with... Roger? Randy? What was his name?"

"Dick. Dick Duck," Ginny replied with a completely serious face. "He actually didn't balk when I mentioned my plans for the future, but he did stick me with the check. Asshole. Not that I could see myself as Mrs. Ginevra Duck, either way. But I can't believe I'm getting desperate enough to consider it."

"Really?" Hermione asked incredulously, pouring another glass of white zinfandel for the witch. After all, they could both use it.

Ginny swirled the sweet, pink liquid around her glass, seemingly captivated by its color. "Yeah," she conceded blandly. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know any of the other inmates at Azkaban, would you? Maybe not someone with a life sentence... a petty crime perhaps? Nothing too violent..." she said as she made a face.

Hermione held back a giggle. "Don't be silly, Gin. You're not that desperate. Besides, it's not like I've visited any of the other wards. The only people I know are Severus and... oh."

"Oh?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Well, it's just..." Hermione's mouth opened and closed several times, as she was uncertain whether to say anything at all. "Ginny, you're not really serious about this, are you?"

Ginny had a pensive look about her, but nodded the affirmative.

"All right, fine. I don't even know why I'm mentioning him. I don't even know if he's married... I don't think he is, but he might not appeal to you."

"Is he terribly ancient?"

"What? No... um... gosh, I think he might have been four years ahead of me."

"How long is his sentence?"

"Geez, girl, do you really think I'd set you up with an inmate? No, he's a guard."

Ginny breathed a long sigh of relief. "You had me really worried there for a minute. And here I was thinking he was some horrible shackled-up insane inmate or something. Don't scare me like that."

Hermione really didn't want to contemplate why Ginny would even think that, or the fact that it appeared that she was honestly considering such a person as suitable. The dating scene must have gotten much worse and more desperate than she thought, as Ministry deadlines were approaching. Again, she thanked her 'never, ever procrastinate' personal mantra for seizing upon Snape as soon as she had. Who knew Severus Snape would ever be a desirable mate?

"Well, in that case, I'll just have to arrange for you to meet him. Actually, the more I think on it, the more I realize you might be a good match for each other. He's smart... too smart for Azkaban, actually. Relatively good looking, even if it is in a neglected sort of way. Oh, and family is really important to him. I don't know how he'll feel about a Quidditch pitch full of kids, but I do know family is definitely a priority in his life."

Ginny shrugged miserably. "It doesn't matter; I've given up on all the kids as a pipe dream, anyway. Besides, if he's that much of a keeper and hasn't already been snapped up, there's got to be something really wrong with him. I mean, other than working at Azkaban, of course. But hey... at least he's employed... for some reason, I don't think Dick was..."

Hermione smiled. "I don't want to sound too hopeful, but I think you'll get along famously. If he isn't attached, it's because he probably doesn't get a chance to meet people outside of work. He may be an overlooked gem amongst the rough." She knew she was laying it on thick, but it really tugged on her heartstrings to hear the resignation in Ginny's voice. And it was actually possible they'd make a decent couple.

"So, what are you not telling me? Come on, Hermione, what's the bad part?"

It was honestly sad to think that such a young and vivacious witch was so broken that she couldn't fathom a potential suitor not having a 'catch.' Fucking Ministry should be burned to the ground.

She had had high hopes when Kingsley succeeded Scrimgeour. Rufus Scrimgeour was the beast behind the Ministry's policy of rounding up undesirable wizards and witches who posed threats to the safety of their world, which she now knew meant Kissing families en masse.

She was glad to see Scrimgeour go and had proudly campaigned for Kingsley. That was until his administration had introduced the Marriage Law that found both of them in such untenable predicaments. And Kingsley was so anxious to avoid the appearance of preferential treatment to Order members that he was unwilling to give them waivers. Hermione wasn't certain what she'd do if she ever found herself alone in one of the Ministry's elevators with him, but she rather expected she'd make an unladylike spectacle of herself.

"Well... he is a Mulciber," she weakly confessed.

*

A/N:

Chapter title: Amor Tussisque Non Celantur – Love, and a cough, are not concealed. (Ovid)

Love to my fantabulous beta, Christev20, who effortlessly handled a last-minute rewrite with such grace.