Nine

Chapter Nine

It was late Sunday evening when Snape and Hermione returned to London. They flew into Heathrow, claimed their bags, and then searched for a darkened area from which they could Apparate without being seen.

It was cool and windy, and a light rain was falling as they stepped outside the terminal and ducked around a corner.

"I'll join you in a few minutes," Hermione said as she shrunk down her bag and prepared to leave. She was wearing a light-weight blouse, and she shivered slightly. She'd dressed for Cyprus that morning, not London. "I'll use the Floo from my flat; I hope it isn't too dirty."

"Do you need something from your flat? And why would you use the Floo?" he asked in a genuinely puzzled tone.

"Because I don't feel like walking a kilometre in the rain."

"You can Apparate directly into the house from here," Snape said.

"I can? When did you have time to change your wards?" She shivered again.

Snape twitched his wand out of his sleeve and aimed it at her. She felt an invisible layer of warmth settle over her. "I didn't have to change them," he said. "We're married; your magical signature is linked to mine now. I couldn't keep you out, even if I wanted to."

She bit her bottom lip nervously. "I've invaded your last bastion of privacy, haven't I?"

Snape shrugged. "I would hardly keep you out of your own home. Besides, it works both ways, you know. You've no privacy any longer, either. Better hide your diary."

Her brows drew together, and she frowned. "You wouldn't ..."

Snape smiled as he draped an arm across her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "No, I wouldn't," he assured her. "Now, let's go home, shall we? There's still a bit of Sunday left."

Hermione looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, let's go home."

A moment later there was only a slightly drier spot amid the wet to mark the place they'd been standing.

"Severus? Hermione? Are you here?" Filius Flitwick's voice, magically amplified, boomed through the Floo.

Snape paused with his mug of coffee halfway between the table and his mouth.

"Bloody early, isn't he?" he muttered.

"Maybe he's had a breakthrough he's eager to tell us about," Hermione replied as she picked up her own mug.

"It's more likely he wants to pester us with impertinent questions about our marriage, especially the wedding night." Snape waited until Hermione had taken a sip of coffee before he spoke again. "The randy old bugger probably hasn't got laid in years."

Hermione choked, and coffee sprayed from her lips. She somehow managed to keep it from spewing from her nose as well. She coughed and gasped for breath.

"You'll see," he replied as he patted her solicitously on the back. With a casual flick of his wand, he cleaned the spilled coffee from the table.

"How did it go?" Filius asked a few minutes later as he settled himself on a high stool and held a mug out expectantly. Hermione filled it with coffee and then sat down next to Snape.

"We're married," Snape said in a flat tone.

"And the Wizengamot will have no grounds to annul the marriage, correct?" He leaned forward eagerly.

Snape looked to Hermione and arched his brow. "I told you, didn't I? Prurient old sod."

"Me?" Filius squeaked. He tried to look indignant, but failed. "I'm merely concerned that the validity of your marriage may be questioned."

"Right."

Hermione leaned across the table and put a hand on the diminutive wizard's arm. "It was a legally contracted marriage, magically witnessed, and ..." she paused and looked toward her husband.

"... and duly consummated," Snape added tersely. "And that's the last we'll say on that subject."

"As if I wanted to hear details," Filius muttered into his mug of coffee. And then his head jerked up as something else Hermione had said registered on his consciousness.

"Magically witnessed?" Filius pushed his half-empty mug aside. "You had a wizarding ceremony?"

"We had a civil ceremony," Snape explained. "However, an old friend of mine, who happens to be a wizard, and also happens to be a fourth or fifth cousin, witnessed the marriage – and signed the marriage certificate."

"Oh, well done!" Filius exclaimed. He picked up his mug again and took a sip. He smacked his lips appreciatively before he spoke again. "Although you won't be making any friends at the Ministry."

Snape snorted softly. "I've no friends in the Ministry."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not in the least." Snape turned to Hermione. "Does it bother you?"

A number of thoughts flashed through her mind. She'd once thought Arthur Weasley was her friend, but when it came down to it, he'd chosen his son over her. While that stung – Ron had been a cheating bastard, after all – she understood and accepted that his family was more important to him than she was. Harry, who worked in the Aurors' office, had once been her friend, but by dint of his marriage to Ginny, he, too, was Ron's family now, and that friendship had cooled as well.

"Hermione?" Snape reached out and touched her hand.

"What?" She shook her head slightly bringing herself back to the conversation at hand. "Oh, no ... no ... I'm prepared to be persona non grata at the Ministry. In fact, I'm quite looking forward to it," she added grimly.

"You always were a fighter," Filius said.

"We're both fighters," she said as she turned her hand under her husband's and grasped it firmly. "Aren't we?"

Snape returned the pressure of her hand. "Yes, but now we're fighting for the same thing."

"We always were," she said with conviction.

Snape looked down into her earnest face. She believed in him. She always had. He felt a sudden swell of emotion and had to resist the urge to drag her back to the bed they'd just tumbled out of an hour before. (Why did 'twice' have to remain an option only on Sunday, after all?) She looked up at him, her lips parted in silent invitation.

"We don't have time for a honeymoon!" Filius exclaimed.

The sound of Filius Flitwick's distressed squeal was enough to break the mood.

Snape turned toward Filius and glared.

"Unless you've got yourself married in the last few days, there's no 'we' on this honeymoon," he growled.

"No, I haven't got myself married – more's the pity because I'd make some witch very happy," Filius replied.

"Well, it won't be my witch." Snape draped a possessive arm across Hermione's shoulder.

"From the look on her face, I'd say you've already taken care of that," Filius said.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said with a smile and a sigh.

"And you said you wouldn't give me details," Filius said with undisguised glee.

"You really are a pervert, Filius," Snape said, but there was no heat in his words.

"A man needs his small pleasures."

"Very small," Snape muttered.

While Filius spluttered, Hermione tried to stifle a giggle.

Snape merely smirked.

A few minutes later, they had composed themselves enough to get back to a serious discussion of the business at hand.

"Have you made any progress with the charms?" Hermione asked.

Filius shook his head sadly. "No matter how promising a line of research seems when I begin, it soon turns into a dead end. I fear we're no closer to a solution now than we were a month ago, or even a year ago."

"I have some ingredients coming from Cyprus," Snape said. "They should be here today. Perhaps a totally new potion is the answer rather than a modification of a potion already in use."

"Totally new charms may be the answer for us as well," Hermione added.

"Almost all charms are developed from older, existing charms," Filius said. "Creating a new charm – one not built on the foundation of another – is painstaking work. It takes weeks, sometimes months, of trial and error."

"Then we'd better get started, hadn't we?" Hermione asked.

Hermione and Filius sat side-by-side at their work table for most of the day, stopping only to use the loo and to eat the sandwiches that Snape hurriedly prepared.

When the package with his ingredients was delivered in the early afternoon, Snape retreated to his lab and didn't emerge until nearly eight o'clock.

A glance at the work table told him that Hermione and Filius had called it a day as well. He walked into the kitchen, his nose twitching appreciatively at the unmistakable scent of fish and chips.

"I was just about to roust you out of your cave," Hermione said with a smile as she set the table. "Dinner's ready."

"You cooked?" Snape asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. You know I can't cook, especially something as complicated as fish and chips. I popped over to the chip shop."

"I would have made something," he said. "Probably not fish and chips, although they're not nearly as complicated as you seem to think."

Hermione gave him a 'yeah, right' look, and Snape smiled at her expression.

"You've been working all day. Besides, I looked in the cupboard. There's not much in there."

"I'm sure I could have come up with something," he responded automatically, but in truth he was tired and quite happy not to have to prepare dinner.

"I'll have to get to the grocer," he added.

"We can stop on our way back from the Ministry tomorrow," Hermione said.

"We will, provided the Special Coordinator doesn't have us thrown into Azkaban once our current situation becomes known."

"You don't think that's likely do you?" she asked as she opened the packets of paper-wrapped fried fish and golden chips and filled their plates.

"I was using hyperbole," Snape said.

"I knew that."

"Of course you did."

He took the plates from her hands and set them on the small kitchen table. He sat on one side of the small kitchen table and Hermione sat on the other. She opened the bottle of malt vinegar and liberally doused her fish.

"We're legally married and neither the Special Coordinator nor the Wizengamot can change that," Snape said.

"That doesn't mean they won't try," Hermione replied.

"Let them; I'm always up for a good fight."

"Tomorrow will be interesting, to say the least," Hermione said as she picked up her fork.

London was cold, wet, and dreary. Had Snape been going to the Ministry to enter into an arranged marriage with Sybill Trelawney, he was sure his mood would have been just as dreary and miserable. But as he and Hermione made their way to the Ministry, he was almost cheerful. He was quite looking forward to the kafuffle that was sure to erupt when his and Hermione's marriage was revealed.

An untidy-looking wizard holding a Muggle-style clipboard and a bedraggled quill was waiting just inside the entrance when Snape and Hermione stepped out of the phone box that served as the visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

"Name?" the wizard said without looking up.

"Severus Snape."

The man ran a grubby finger down the list of names on his clipboard. He stuck his tongue out between moist, sausage-shaped lips and wet the tip of the quill. When it was sufficiently slobbery, he made a check mark on the tattered piece of parchment on the clipboard.

"Me name's Calvin. I'll be escortin' ye to the weddin' office, but ye'r early. There's another wedding scheduled afore yours. Ye'll have to wait here."

"My wedding is the one scheduled before his," Hermione said. "But I've invited him to be with me today."

"So ye'd be Herman Granger, then?" the man asked as he looked at her doubtfully.

"My name is Hermione."

"Oh ... sorry." He didn't appear the least bit sorry, however. He scratched his head, and a shower of white flakes drifted down.

"Well, get a wiggle on, then. Yer groom is already 'ere. Ye come, too," he said pointing to Snape. "It'll save me a walk to an' fro. Me feet are killin' me."

As they followed the man down the corridor, Snape leaned over and whispered into Hermione's ear. "So, 'yer groom is already 'ere'. Lucky witch. He never mentioned my bride at all."

Hermione turned her head and caught the sardonic twist of his lips.

"My groom is most definitely here," she said. "And I'm a very lucky witch indeed."

She reached out and took his hand in hers.

"What a brazen hussy you are, my dear," he said as he returned the pressure of her fingers. "Even as 'yer' groom awaits you within the marriage office, you're cavorting through the corridors of the Ministry of Magic with that reprobate, Severus Snape – or so the gossips will tell the tale. Are you trying to create a scandal?"

"Do you think we will?" she asked.

"Undoubtedly."

"Lovely; I've always wanted to create a scandal."

Snape chuckled softly.

"'Ere ye go," the unkempt wizard said as he stopped before a thick oak door. The brass plaque on it looked new. It read: Office of the Extraordinary Registrar.

Calvin turned the doorknob and pushed the heavy door inward.

Hermione paused to draw a breath.

"Go on. I can' leave until ye'r inside, and me legs are achin'."

"Don't you trust me to go inside if you leave?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Look, miss, I'm jus' tryin' to make a livin'. Me missus swells when I hang me trousers on th' bedpost – I got six kids a'ready and another bun in th' oven. I don' know what th' bleedin' problem is wi' th' rest of ye, and I really don' care. Now, step inside."

"Go on, Hermione," Snape said. "I'll join you in a moment."

She nodded and walked through the door. It swung shut behind her.

Snape turned back to their escort. "Do you and your wife use a contraceptive potion?"

"None of yer effing business," the man snapped.

Snape put a hand on the man's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Listen ... Calvin is it? With six children, you're exempt from the restrictions imposed by the C.R.A.P. statute and not subject to penalties or incarceration ..."

"Wha'?"

"It's all right if you use a potion to prevent pregnancy – you won't get in trouble if you tell me," Snape explained in simpler terms.

"Huh! She swallows tha' slop ever' nigh' and she still got knocked up agin. She's threatenin' to tie a knot in my ..."

"Ouch," Snape commented sympathetically. Now that he'd engaged the man in conversation, he removed his hand from Calvin's shoulder and wiped it surreptitiously on his trouser leg.

"To tell the truth, I'm no' sure gettin' laid is worth it anymore." He had a morose look about him.

"I understand completely, and I may be able to help you."

The man looked at Snape suspiciously. "Why woul' ye wanna help me?"

"Just call me a humanitarian."

"I don' care nothin' abou' religion."

Before Snape could formulate a reply to that comment, the heavy oak door swung open again, and Hermione's head of tousled curls appeared.

"Severus, get in here. Now!" Her voice held an edge of panic. She ducked back inside the room, but left the door open.

"It appears I'm needed inside," Snape said, "but I'm serious about trying to help you and your ... missus ... with your problem. You can contact me via the Floo ..."

"As if I kin afford a Floo connection," Calvin scoffed.

"Send me an owl, then. You have my name." He pointed to Calvin's clipboard. "We'll make arrangements to meet and discuss your options."

"I'll talk to Effie. If she's agreeable, like, I'll le' ye know."

"Severus!"

The tone of Hermione's voice had risen from merely panicked to nearly hysterical.

Snape nodded at Calvin and then slipped through the opened door and into the office of the Extraordinary Registrar.

"Is there a problem, Hermione?" he asked calmly as he walked to the front of the room. He nodded at Mundungus Fletcher, who was standing next to Hermione, his hand wrapped around her lower arm as though to prevent her from leaving his side again. He looked as if he hadn't bathed or changed his clothes since the last time Snape had seen him – well before the Final Battle. Behind a podium set up in front of them stood a short, plump wizard wearing robes of such an eye searing chartreuse that even Gilderoy Lockhart wouldn't have worn them.

"Severus, this is Jonathan Loxley, he's the Extraordinary Registrar," Hermione said.

"Are you here to witness the happy event?" the luridly robed wizard asked jovially. "We're just about to get started."

"Actually, I'm here to prevent the 'happy event'," Snape replied.

Loxley's voice lost its joviality. "This is a Ministry arranged and approved marriage. There's no preventing these proceedings unless one of the parties involved has decided to exercise the Right of Exemption and surrender his or her wand?"

He looked from Hermione to Mundungus expectantly.

"No," Hermione said; Mundungus shook his head.

"Then we'll proceed," the Loxley said.

"I think not," Snape said. "Hermione Granger cannot marry Mundungus Fletcher because she is already legally wed to another wizard. I do believe that bigamy has been illegal in the wizarding world for nearly four hundred years."

"And to whom is Miss Granger married?" Loxley asked in a snooty tone.

"She's married to me," Snape answered as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. "And I have the Certificate of Marriage to prove it." Then he turned to Mundungus Fletcher and spoke again. "I suggest you unhand my wife, Fletcher, else I'll be forced to take appropriate measures to defend her honour." He stared pointedly at the hand still holding Hermione's arm.

"Oh, righ', righ'," Mundungus muttered as he hastily withdrew his hand. "No offence intended, mate. I didn' know she was yer's."

"Now you know."

"Righ'," he muttered again. "She's a migh' bi' skinny for me tastes anyway; and it's no' like I really wanted to ge' married."

"Then why did you put yourself on the list?" Hermione asked.

"Wha' list?"

"The list of unmarried, fertile wizards, of course. You're over the age requirement, and you wouldn't even have been on the list unless you volunteered and passed a fertility exam at St. Mungo's."

"I never volunteer fer nothin'. Tha's a sure way fer a man to ge' into more trouble than 'e needs," he insisted. "And I ain' been near St. Mungo's since a-fore the war."

"Then how do you happen to be here today?" Snape asked.

"Well now, tha's a bi' of a story," Mundungus said. He rocked back on his heels and reached up toward his mouth. He quickly dropped his hand when he realised his pipe wasn't in its usual place.

"Just give us the abbreviated version," Snape snapped.

"Huh?"

"Make it quick."

"It's like this, see ... I was after sellin' some odd bits an' pieces ... er ... fer a friend o' mine, when there was a question abou' some taxes due on the ... the imports."

"You were caught trying to fence smuggled goods," Snape surmised.

"Tha's a bit harsh, ain' it? A man's go' a righ' ter make a livin' ain' he?"

"What happened next?" Snape asked.

"This here bloke from the Ministry come to me cell an' tol' me there was a way ter ... ter reduce the charges, like. 'E tol' me to show up 'ere today and ge' married. I said 'no' a' firs', bu' then the bloke reminded me abou' the ... the benefits of havin' a woman ter come home to.

"O' course 'e also reminded me tha' if I didn' agree, I'd be goin' to Azkaban." He shuddered slightly.

"So, 'ere I am," he added in a sad tone.

"Who was this 'bloke' from the Ministry?"

"I never saw 'im afore 'e showed up ou'side me cell."

"He didn't tell you his name?" Hermione asked.

Mundungus shook his head. "Now tha' I think abou' it, 'e never did."

"And you didn't think that was strange?"

"All I cared abou' was gettin' ou' of there," Mundungus said flatly. "I wasn' even goin' to show up today, bu' tha' bloke, he came to me flat las' nigh' to remind me. Said I'd be sorry if I were'n' 'ere."

"You'll be a lot sorrier if you stay," Snape commented. "Have a good life, Fletcher. Just be sure you live it far, far away from me and mine. Now, get out of here before I change my mind."

"Righ'."

Mundungus turned and began moving as quickly as his bandy little legs would carry him toward the exit.

Loxley, who'd been watching and listening to the exchange between Snape, Hermione, and Mundungus with rapt fascination, spoke for first time in several minutes.

"Mr. Fletcher!" Loxley's voice rang out, and Mundungus turned back.

"Wha'?"

"You can challenge the legality of this so-called marriage, you know."

"Are you ou' of yer bleedin' mind? Tha's Severus Snape. 'E were a Death Eater, you know. You wanna challenge 'im, you be my gues'. I'm leavin'!"

And leave he did.

"This is highly irregular," Loxley said as the door slammed behind Mundungus Fletcher. "May I see that document?"

"Of course," Snape replied. "You may even keep this one. It's a copy, but I can produce the original if need be. Martin Gladstone, the wizard who witnessed our marriage, is also ready to appear if you require that he do so."

Loxley examined the paper. After a few moments he spoke. "I don't believe that will be necessary. This document appears to be in order. Since Mr. Fletcher has expressed no interest in challenging Miss Granger's marriage to you, I have the authority to recognise and validate her legal status." He drew his wand and touched it to the paper in his hand. It shimmered briefly and an ornate signature appeared on the bottom. He barely blinked as pale blue sparks shimmered briefly. "I'll just make an authorised copy for the files." He touched his wand to the paper again. "Here's your copy," he said, handing the paper back to Snape. "The other one has been filed."

He bowed slightly. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Snape."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a smile. Snape merely nodded.

"It seems our assumption that there was a hidden agenda has been verified," Snape said to Hermione.

"Yes, but the question of who and why remains open," Hermione replied.

"While this little drama has been entertaining," Loxley interrupted, "I'm going to have to ask you both to leave now. I've another wedding to perform; the bride and groom are probably waiting outside."

Now Snape did smile. "The bride might very well be waiting outside, but she'll soon discover she's lacking a groom."

Loxley looked perplexed until Snape pointed to the schedule on his podium.

"Sybill Trelawney and ... Severus Snape."

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.