Two

Chapter Two

Three weeks later, Snape, Hermione, and Filius Flitwick were having a quick breakfast in Snape's kitchen before they went back to work. They were all irritable and exhausted, but they were also determined to find a way to counteract the toxic magic which, like an invisible fog, had blanketed the magical world after the defeat of the Dark Lord.

"The acacia sap seems to increase the motility of the sperm cells," Snape commented as he speared a mushroom.

"Yes, but if there is no ovum released, it doesn't matter how motile the sperm are," Filius said.

"I'm working on another potion that addresses that issue," Snape said. "It's been very difficult to adjust the dosage, however. Either no ovum is released, or a dozen or more are."

Filius shook his head. "Not a viable solution. No woman could successfully gestate that many embryos at one time."

"I know that, Filius," Snape said irritably. "I was commenting on the progress of my work; I didn't claim it was a viable solution!"

"Don't snap at me."

"Stop it, both of you," Hermione interjected before the argument could escalate. Lack of sleep and lack of progress had combined to make everyone irascible. "Bickering among ourselves isn't going to accomplish anything."

"You're right, you're right," Filius said in his squeaky voice. "My apologies, Severus."

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "I'm beginning to wonder if anything we do will make a difference."

"Of course it will," Hermione said. She slid a portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate.

"Have I ever told you how tiresome your Gryffindor optimism is, Miss Granger?" Snape said with a scowl.

"Incessantly, Professor Snape."

"I haven't been anyone's professor for more than a decade, thank the gods," Snape replied. "I'm quite content to work here at Spinner's End."

"Minerva would have you back in a moment, you know," Filius said.

"Not bloody likely. I've long fulfilled my duty to Dumbledore and the Order." As was his usual, subconscious gesture, he touched his forearm and then his neck. "I'll never set foot in a classroom again," he added.

"Really, Severus," Hermione said in a bantering tone. "We weren't all dunderheads, were we?"

Snape gave a soft snort. "The shining stars were few, and most of them were at least a little tarnished about the edges – mostly due to the unsavoury company they kept."

"I do believe he's referring to you, Hermione," Filius said.

"Oh, yes, they certainly were an unsavoury lot," Hermione said dryly. "Harry Potter, otherwise known as the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and the Destroyer of Evil; Ron Weasley, best friend of the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and the Destroyer of Evil; Neville Longbottom, pure-blood son of two of the heroes of the First Wizarding War, and hero in his own right, otherwise known as the Great Snake Slayer, also a friend of the Boy Who Lived, etcetera, etcetera. Need I go on?"

Filius was laughing so hard he nearly tumbled off the raised stool he was sitting on, and even Snape was chuckling.

"Very well, maybe you weren't as tarnished as some," Snape conceded.

"Thank you," Hermione said as she returned her attention to her eggs, which were now barely lukewarm.

A moment later, she pushed her plate away.

"Something wrong with your eggs?" Snape asked.

"What? Oh, no, they're fine. I'm just a bit ... distracted. Has the paper come yet?"

Snape shoved his own plate aside. "I'd nearly managed to forget, but, no, there's been no sign of the delivery owl."

"Oh, dear," Filius interjected. "It's today, isn't it? The Ministry will be publishing the names of all the fertile witches and wizards."

"A veritable smorgasbord of male potency and female fecundity," Snape said with a sneer.

They heard the Floo activate, and then there was a loud thump.

"Apparently, the paper is too large for the delivery owl," Snape said as he got to his feet and moved into the parlour. "They've used the Floo."

Two minutes later, Snape and Hermione were kneeling shoulder-to-shoulder with the paper spread out on the floor in front of them.

"Is it alphabetical?" Hermione asked as she ran her fingers up and down the small, crowded print. "Where are the G's?"

"Between the F's and the H's," Snape replied. "Just where they've always been."

"Arse," Hermione muttered. "Ah, here we go ... Gibbon, Elford; Goldstein, Anthony; Goyle, Bertram; Goyle, Gregory – of course; Grady, Gilda; Grady, Glenda; Granger, Hermione; Graves, Merton ..."

Hermione sat back on her heels, a look of shock on her face. Snape continued his study of the paper.

"Smethley, Veronica; Smith, Alton; Smith, Gordon; Smith, Inez; Smith, John; Smith, Zacharias; Smythe, Filomina; Smythe, Georgina; Snape, Severus; Spinnet, Alicia ..."

He stood up and kicked the paper viciously, as though it were responsible for his predicament. "Bloody fucking hell," he snarled.

"I'll assume you're both on the list," Filius said with a sympathetic look.

"If I'm lucky, I'll get someone with a modicum of intelligence and good sense," Snape said. "But if my luck runs as it usually does, I'll end up with Dolores Umbridge."

"You will allow the Ministry to choose a wife for you?" Filius asked.

"What choice do I have?" Snape said. "My work for the Order and the Dark Lord precluded a social life. I've never met most of the witches on this list. I wouldn't know how to begin a dialogue with any of them, never mind a courtship."

"And you, Hermione?" Filius asked.

"I've buried myself in my work for years. The only wizards who've ever shown the slightest interest in me, romantically, are Viktor Krum and Ron. Viktor is dead and Ron ..." She retrieved the pile of newspaper and quickly scanned the W's. "Ron isn't on the list."

"So you'll allow the Ministry to make the most important decision of your life, as well?"

"What else can I do?"

Filius shook his head as his gaze swung back and forth between them. "How is it that two intuitive and intelligent people such as you are have managed to completely overlook the most logical and obvious solution?"

Both Hermione and Snape looked at Filius expectantly.

"You must marry each other!"

After a moment of shocked silence, both Snape and Hermione reacted, their words tripping over each other's as they shouted at Filius.

"I thought you said you had a solution to our dilemma!"

"What makes you think we're even remotely suited?"

"... argumentative, bossy, and stubborn ..."

"... opinionated, sarcastic, and surly, and those are his good points ..."

"... and a bloody Gryffindor to boot!" Snape finished with a sneer.

"... besides, he's a Slytherin!" Hermione countered with a matching sneer.

There were two chests heaving in indignation and two pairs of eyes burning with fury by the time they wound themselves down.

"Are you quite finished?" Filius asked in a soft tone.

"Quite," Hermione said huffily.

Snape merely snorted.

"From what I've observed of your relationship ..." Filius began.

"'Relationship'? We don't have a 'relationship'!" Hermione said. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at the diminutive wizard.

"You'd better have Poppy examine your eyes, then," Snape added. "And your head, as well."

"I thought you were finished," Filius said with infinite patience.

Hermione opened her mouth as though to speak and then snapped it shut.

Snape ground his teeth but didn't speak.

"As I was saying, from what I've observed of your relationship, I think you would have a successful, if a bit tumultuous marriage. The two of you are intelligent, methodical, principled, and, I dare say, passionate. You've worked together professionally for years, and although you've had disagreements, you've managed to work through them without any bloodletting. I've heard you exchange barbs, yes; but I've also heard you laugh together at your own foibles. You respect each other ..."

"We don't love each other!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Do you love Gregory Goyle, or Alton Smith, or any of the other wizards on the Ministry's list of eligible bachelors?" Filius asked.

"Of course I don't; I don't even know most of them."

"But you know Severus."

"Well ... yes, I know him. And you're right, I respect him. I'm not sure that's enough for a successful marriage, however."

"It's more than many will have when the Ministry starts playing matchmaker," Filius said reasonably.

Hermione turned her head to observe Snape. He was standing with his hands hanging loosely at his sides. His lips were curled into their customary sneer and his hair hung in an untidy curtain around his face. But it was a clean, shiny curtain and not at all greasy. There were two spots of colour high on his cheeks, and his dark eyes were hooded, hiding any reaction to her exchange with Filius. She looked away before he could meet her eyes.

Would marriage to Severus Snape be palatable or even tolerable? She closed her eyes and sighed. Would marriage to Gregory Goyle be any more palatable or tolerable? She'd been working with Severus for nearly five years, and she'd never had even the slightest interest in him in a romantic or sexual way. Of course, she hadn't taken a romantic interest in anyone, not counting Ron, in even longer than that. Mostly, she'd sublimated the normal, physical urges that a young woman in her twenties usually experienced. She allowed herself to think of Severus as a man and a potential sexual partner, rather than just a colleague. She glanced over at him again. His lips were thin, but when they weren't sneering or snarling, they had a nice shape. He was lean, but not as thin as he'd been before the war. His hands were well-formed with long, slender fingers. She tried to imagine kissing him and didn't find the thought at all unpleasant. The thought of kissing Gregory Goyle, however, had her swallowing hard to keep from vomiting.

There was also the matter of character. Severus was a man of honour and true moral fibre. Following Dumbledore's own orders, he'd done the unthinkable. His loyalty to Dumbledore had nearly cost him his life. Nagini's bite had been true and deep, and if Severus hadn't been foresighted enough to vaccinate himself with Nagini's own venom, he wouldn't be standing here today. As it was, he'd nearly bled to death. He'd been saved when one of the house elves sent to retrieve his body realised that he was unconscious, but not dead. Poppy Pomfrey had managed to stop the bleeding and save his life. When all the facts came out, he'd been cleared of any charges of wrong-doing. The Order had hailed him as a hero, and even the Ministry had been forced to recognize his contributions to the Light. But being vindicated and being accepted were two very different things. Hermione knew that he still suffered a good deal of ostracism. In spite of that, he'd turned his home into a laboratory, and he'd invited her and Filius to join him in the search to find a way to counteract the toxic magic that Voldemort had, in a final act of madness and hatred, unleashed upon the wizarding world.

He could have fled to America, or any of a thousand other places, and put himself beyond the reach of the Ministry and its absurd law; she'd heard that a number of witches and wizards had done just that. He hadn't, though. He'd stayed, determined to perfect the fertility potions that were so desperately needed. He'd stayed to help the very people who held him in contempt and still didn't understand the sacrifices he had made.

All these thoughts skittered through her mind in just a few moments. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

"Filius, that a very good idea." She spoke quietly, but clearly. "Severus and I should get married. To each other."

"Splendid!"

Snape felt a sudden surge of emotion flare through him when he heard Hermione's words. His mind turned it over and over in a millisecond, trying to analyse it. When he recognised it, he wanted to deny it because the only name he could put to it was 'relief'. He, Severus Snape, former Death Eater, decorated (however reluctantly) war hero, esteemed Potions master, and, as of this morning, one of the Ministry's eligible bachelors, was relieved that a bossy, infuriating, irritating, former student thought that marrying him was a 'good idea'.

"Do I have any say in this," Snape lashed out before he could think too long about his emotional instability, "or will you bash me over the head with a club and drag me off into a cave by my hair?"

Snape felt a small stab of shame as he watched Hermione flinch slightly under his harsh words. She recovered quickly, however, and faced him squarely.

"My apologies, Severus, for being presumptuous," she said in a tone that didn't sound at all apologetic. "I had no idea that the thought of marrying Dolores Umbridge was so appealing to you. Or is it that the thought of marrying me is so unappealing?"

Snape ran his eyes up and down her body slowly, and he smiled to himself as she flushed. Although he'd never given much thought to her in a sexual way (All men fantasised a bit, didn't they?), she certainly wasn't unappealing. And he had to admit, if only to himself, that Hermione's brilliant mind and ready wit were far more stimulating than another woman's lush curves or perfect features could ever be.

It wouldn't do, however, to make it too easy for her. He had a reputation as a difficult, complicated man, and he had no intention of allowing her to think he could be too readily manipulated. He was grateful, however, that she couldn't see his knees shaking under his robes!

"I didn't say that at all," Snape replied with a calmness he didn't feel. His fingers touched his arm and then his neck. "I just think there should be some ... discussion ... before we make such an important decision."

"What is there to discuss?"

"Can you cook?" Snape asked.

"Can I cook?"

"A man has to eat, you know."

Hermione huffed out an impatient breath. "No, I can't cook, but I know how to order take-away."

"As it happens, I enjoy cooking," Snape said in a superior tone. "Not that I have any objection to an occasional dinner out, or even some curry take-away."

"How fortunate can one witch be?"

Snape smiled slightly. "I don't have any elves here; do you know any housekeeping charms?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"No, but I know a few hairdressing charms."

Snape waved a hand airily. "No mind; I can teach you the basics."

Hermione's brow furrowed, but Snape seemed oblivious to her building temper.

"It's important that I get my rest," he continued. "You don't snore, do you?"

Hermione thrust her chin out.

"Like a hibernating bear – and I'm a blanket-thief, as well!" she bellowed.

Somehow Snape managed to keep from laughing out loud as he watched her explode.

"Is this your idea of a discussion?" Hermione asked indignantly. "Did I ask you about cooking or cleaning, or snoring?"

"I've just one more question," Snape said mildly.

"What now? Do you want to know if I pick my nose or leave my toe nail parings in the sink?"

"No, I want to know if you like pink."

"I detest it!"

Now Snape did laugh, and the sight of him laughing had Hermione goggling.

"Have you gone mad?" she asked.

"Perhaps I have," Snape said after he'd caught his breath. "But it seems we're betrothed," Snape said.

"So it seems," Hermione agreed.

Filius, who'd followed the exchange with mounting glee, was jumping up and down and clapping his hands together in delight.

"Oh, jolly good! Jolly good!" he squeaked.

Hermione and Snape, both of whom seemed to have completely forgotten the presence of the tiny wizard, turned to look at him.

"I didn't realise you were still here, Filius," Snape said.

"You were rather ... pre-occupied. Now that you've remembered I'm here, may I be the first to offer my congratulations?"

He held out his hand, and Snape took it. "Thank you, Filius."

"And to you, Hermione, my sincere good wishes." He tugged at her hand and Hermione leaned down to allow him to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you," she replied.

"I know that this is not the most auspicious of beginnings, but I have a very good feeling about this," Filius said. "Now, may I act as witness to your Declaration of Betrothal?"

Snape looked to Hermione, who nodded.

"We'd be honoured," Snape said sincerely.

"What do we have to do?" Hermione asked.

"We've already done it," Snape said as he draped his arm across her shoulder and turned her slightly. "Look."

He pointed to the Floo where a small roll of parchment hovered in the green flames.

Filius walked over and plucked it out of the hearth. He unrolled it and studied it.

"Looks like a standard-issue Ministry form, except for the provision that the marriage must take place within thirty days of the filing," he said.

"But we don't have to file it today, do we?" Hermione asked.

Filius looked it over again, and then he shook his head. "No, the required filing date is thirty days from today."

"We have sixty days, then, until we actually have to get married," Snape said.

"Are you two getting cold feet already?" Filius asked. He looked pointedly at Snape's arm, which was still resting across Hermione's shoulders.

Snape hastily dropped his arm, and Hermione took a side-step away from him.

"As a matter of fact, my feet are quite warm and toasty," Snape said, and Hermione nodded in agreement. "But if by some miracle, we are able to perfect the potions and charms – and get the information to the Wizengamot within those sixty days – it won't be necessary to carry through our plan.

"It's not as if this is a love match, after all," he added. "We're merely colleagues rendering mutual assistance."

"I see," Filius said in an amused tone that clearly indicated he didn't see it that way at all. "And is that what you think as well, Hermione?"

"Well, I'd thought that we were more than 'merely colleagues', but at least we're not strangers."

"Better the devil you know, eh?" Filius said.

Neither Snape nor Hermione had a response to that comment.

Filius sighed softly as he re-rolled the form and dropped it onto the side table where it began to hum softly.

The issuance of marriage licences to witches and wizards who fell within the age requirements of the new law had been suspended during the process of determining fertility – the whole point of the legislation, after all, was to insure that only fertile witches and wizards married. Allowing marriages to take place before that determination was made would have been counter-productive. Now that the lists had been published, however, there was a flurry of Declarations being sent in. The lucky witches and wizards who found their names on the lists, and who had been in a relationship before the law passed, were especially quick to file.

All Declarations were routed through the office of the Special Coordinator for Ministry Approved and Arranged Marriages. It was the Coordinator's job to make sure that both parties named on the Declaration were eligible to be married to each other under the provisions of the new law. Once that was ascertained, the Coordinator approved the Declaration, returned a copy to each person involved along with the reminder that the marriage itself had to take place within thirty days, and issued a marriage licence.

A copy of the Declaration was then filed, the names of the witch and wizard were crossed off the master list, and the list was updated. At the end of the thirty days allowed for the filing of the Declarations, it would be the Coordinator's responsibility to pair up the remaining witches and wizards using the unique skills that had led the Ministry to create the position in the first place. A letter would then be sent informing the witches and wizards that since they hadn't managed to get themselves betrothed, the Ministry had done it for them.

The Coordinator took this responsibility seriously. Already potential matches were being considered. Some were very obvious; Neville Longbottom needed someone strong and wise to guide him, and an older witch, such as Miranda Greengrass would make a perfect partner for him. Other matches were considered and rejected; Luna Lovegood, for instance, was far too flighty and dreamy for someone like Charley Weasley. Percy Weasley, on the other hand, might make a good choice. Of course, it was impossible to make final decisions until the thirty days expired, so all possibilities remained open.

Every day, the Prophet published the updated list of 'eligibles' along with the betrothal and wedding announcements.

As the days ticked away, the list got smaller and smaller. Two names, however, remained on each revised list – Hermione Granger's and Severus Snape's.

As each work day closed, and those two names remained on the 'eligible' list, the Coordinator's spirits rose. It wasn't a surprise that neither of them could find someone willing to marry them. Hermione Granger was a bossy, stubborn, interfering troublemaker whose only asset had been her friendship with Harry Potter. And according to Arthur Weasley, who confided in the Coordinator, over the past few years even that association had cooled. Severus Snape was an abrasive, sarcastic, foul-tempered former Death Eater who had avoided Azkaban only because he had somehow convinced the Wizengamot to bring Dumbledore's portrait into the courtroom to testify on his behalf.

They had both filed challenges to the new law – not that it would do them any good. The Coordinator allowed a small smile to broaden into a self-satisfied grin. It had been a small task to put a Procrastination Charm on the parchments. Now every person in the Ministry who touched the parchments, from the lowliest clerk to the Minister himself, would look at them and decide that whatever action was supposed to be initiated could wait another day. It was a handy little charm because it was self-limiting and would wear off in about a year – even the most indecisive of bureaucrats had to take some sort of action eventually, after all.

But it meant that by the time the parchments were read, and the challenges were put on the Wizengamot's schedule, it would be far, far too late for the cheeky swot and the arrogant stiff-neck to do anything about their predicament.

Author's Note: This story was written for the Potter Place's Variety Challenge. This is the prompt I chose: Something Old – Revisit a once popular challenge. I chose to revisit the Marriage Law Challenge, but I've placed the story in a post-DH timeline.