Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 - Making Preparations

The colors were amazing to say the very least, but nothing stood out more than the rich, navy blue. It wasn’t a conventionally bright or outstanding color, but it was truly perfect. Hermione decided that she would have to look reasonable at the very least for her wedding. She had chosen a simple, cream-colored suit jacket and skirt, and of course, the flowing, navy blue silk blouse.

She had found some elegant three-inch black heels a few days earlier in Muggle London, along with the rest of her outfit. She lifted herself out of bed and pulled her nightshirt off before dressing in her now-customary black trousers and white shirtsleeves that she tucked neatly into the pants and then pulled on a teaching robe.

She was going to have to speak to Snape that day at the very least. She was engaged to him after all, and she wanted to at least appear to be civil to him. They had barely spoken since that morning in the coffee shop.

Decidedly, she walked to the Great Hall and sat down next to Snape for breakfast.

‘Good morning!’ she announced cheerfully.

‘Hermione,’ he acknowledged with a nod before taking a swallow of his tea. ‘Are you well this dreary morning?’

Hermione quelled her immediate impulse to laugh at him for the “dreary” comment. Musing, she thought for the second time since finding out he was her betrothed, that it might not be so bad to marry him. Though personally, she would miss her freedom.

Then again, even when she married him, she would not be allowing him any of the liberties that normal husbands had with their wives. She would not allow him to boss her around for starters, and he would not dictate what she did with her life. The only liberty he did have was to father their child.

‘I am well, thank you, Severus,’ she replied as she spooned some sugar into her tea.

She glanced at his Daily Prophet and was slightly surprised when he nudged it towards her more so that they could look at it together as they drank their tea in silence. They read amiably together for ten minutes, perusing the contents of the Wizarding worlds’ gossip column.

‘Albus has made a new law,’ she commented as she read page six.

‘Yes, and no doubt it is another one of his ghastly plans to repopulate the Wizarding world in an entirely unnecessary fashion. Or perhaps it is another one of his useless, crackpot inventions to create a peaceful and harmonious community and all of those other bloody pleasant things,’ he drawled. ‘It’s all Thestral crap as far as I am concerned.’

Hermione smiled at his cynicism. ‘Well, it does involve the marriage law…’ she teased.

‘What? Has he finally decided to abolish it?’ he asked hopefully as he turned his head to pay attention to the article. Hermione almost lost it and laughed at him. He finished it off and sighed deeply. ‘Ah, Miss Granger, it seems that we will be stuck together forever now. Albus has just declared that all marriages remain irrevocable.’

Hermione frowned in annoyance. ‘No divorce? Albus has gone too far this time,’ she said, fuming quietly.

Severus nodded and her frown only deepened. ‘I must be a glutton for punishment, joined to you for the remainder of my being,’ he teased.

Hermione swatted him on the arm and scowled. ‘Be careful what you say, Severus. I am a banshee now, but I could easily be worse,’ she warned.

‘My apologies,’ he said sarcastically.

She pinned him with an icy look, but spun around to look at Minerva as the older witch cleared her throat to get their attention. Having finally got it, she scowled at them both reproachfully.

‘Please don’t tell me that you two are squabbling again,’ she asked with a sigh.

They both looked at her with a grin and said, ‘No!’

‘Are you absolutely positive about that? There seems to be an awful lot of tension between you two lately. I had thought that you’d resolved your differences,’ she persisted despite their twin objections. ‘There are only three days left of term after all, and there is no need for trouble.’

‘Minerva, I can assure you that there are no problems between Hermione and myself,’ Snape snapped irritably.

Hermione’s elbow made firm contact with his ribs, causing him to wince and grunt in annoyance, shooting a glare at her. ‘Severus, don’t be rude,’ she chastened. ‘Perhaps we should tell her though.’

‘Alright, have it your way, woman,’ he said coolly, rubbing his side.

Minerva watched this oddly domestic display of taunting with surprise and confusion combined. They grudgingly came to an agreement, and Severus apparently had to deliver whatever it was they had to say.

‘Perhaps it was a terrible oversight to not have informed you earlier – which I assure you, is no fault of mine –’ he snarked, looking pointedly at Hermione, who just poked her tongue out at him immaturely. ‘– Hermione and I are engaged to be married this Saturday in Gretna Green.’

Minerva’s eyes lit up brilliantly at this. ‘Oh! How wonderful,’ she exclaimed. ‘Albus and I always wondered when you’d find each other.’

Both Hermione and Severus snorted at this hasty assumption.

‘I am not sure what you mean by “find each other,” Minerva, but no such thing occurred to us,’ Snape commented. ‘That is, unless you consider accidentally Apparating on top of your Ministry-approved “match” when you had no idea who they were, finding them.’

‘Or being forced to marry and reproduce,’ Hermione added. ‘Find each other, indeed.’

‘But if you don’t have feelings for one another, then why are you marrying?’ she asked in her confusion.

‘It is all very simple, Minerva,’ Hermione said as she stood from her chair. ‘This is purely a marriage of convenience.’

And with that, she swept out of the hall, taking her chilling air with her and leaving Minerva gaping at her. Unknowingly though, she had also left a wounded Snape alone at the table. Hermione may not have had any feelings resting on the line and, initially, neither had Snape. But he had gradually begun to feel something that he knew was a lot more intimate than only friendship.

Minerva, by chance, had snapped out of her daze just soon enough to see the slightest trace of hurt in Snape’s eyes. It had been from Hermione’s stone cold words. But the icy mask replaced it in an instant, and Minerva felt sympathy for him. Putting a hand on his arm, she sighed.

‘You do have feelings for her, don’t you, Severus?’ she asked gently.

He frowned as her looked at her, but when he saw the care and concern in her expression, he dropped the scowl. ‘Perhaps my feelings have become a little more complicated than I would like, of late,’ he replied guardedly.

‘Do you love her?’ she pressed.

‘Not yet,’ he said simply. ‘But it wouldn’t be hard.’

With that, he got up from the table and gazed gratefully at McGonagall. ‘Thank you for your concern, Minerva. But I believe it is sorely misplaced.’

‘Oh, nonsense, Severus,’ she chastised. ‘Just take care of yourself. She will, in due time, realize that this match was not just coincidence.’

Snape nodded and left the Great Hall in a sweep of his robes. He needed to find something that would make him forget for the day. Upon reaching his chambers, he went to the decanter of brandy by the fire and poured one. His blasted firewhisky was nowhere to be found.

He looked in the mirror and winced at his reflection. He didn’t have anything that a young witch could want. He wasn’t young or attractive or whole. Hell – he didn’t even have a nice personality. His inner voice was attempting to reassure him that he wasn’t all displeasing.

But he just wasn’t listening that day...