The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

Hermione stood still, breathing in the countrified air of the Burrow, the sweet smell of grass and the smell of Molly Weasley's baking bread. Everything was so familiar here; the always slightly overgrown garden, the house bursting with life, the garden gnomes cackling at each other in the roses, the... Was Mr. Weasley milking a cow?

"It's Dad's newest Muggle obsession," Ron said, approaching Hermione's Apparition point. "The Amish. Apparently, they're like a Muggle cult or something."

Hermione laughed as Ron took her hand. "It's hardly a cult, Ron. It's just a different way of life, that's all."

"People choosing to live in the past? Sounds like a cult to me." Ron grimaced exaggeratedly, then laughed at the expression on Hermione's face. "I'm only kidding, 'Mione," he said, then as she slowly smiled, he kissed her mouth lingeringly.

Hermione could feel her heart slowly bruising, as she tried to concentrate on the feel of the sun on her head and Ron's warm mouth on hers. Nothing was going to be the same.

"Come on," Ron said. "Mum's trying out a new recipe."

As they walked hand in hand over the sun-drenched grass to the house, Ron asked, "So, what's the emergency? The owl you sent Harry and me sounded... well, it was short. That's fairly unusual."

"Yes." Hermione gave a short laugh. "Let's wait till after supper, shall we?"

Ron shrugged. "All right."

0o0o0o0

"Hermione, Harry, we're so glad you two decided to join us," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging Hermione with one arm as she cleared her plate with the other.

"Of course," Hermione said faintly as Harry smiled through a mouthful of steak and mashed potatoes. Her headaches had been better since she'd talked to Snape, but she was still sore all over and almost couldn't stand even the affectionate, medium pressure Mrs. Weasley demonstrated.

"Come on, 'Mione," Ron said, standing up and reaching for her hand. Hermione took it, pausing for a moment, savoring the feel of his large hand covering her smaller one, storing it up in her memory...

As they entered Ron's old room, Harry and Hermione both stood in the doorway and looked around for a moment.

"Man..." Harry said.

"Yeah..." Hermione echoed his sentiment.

"It's been ages since we've all been in here, mate," Harry said, coming forward and plopping on Ron's bed. "Ah, home sweet home."

Ron laughed. "I know; tell me about it."

"So, Hermione," Harry said, "what's the trouble?"

Hermione gulped. "Promise me you won't kill me."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "We promise," they said in tandem.

"I'm sort of, uh... moving in with Snape."

The boys looked at Hermione, looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Ron... Harry!"

"I'm sorry," Harry choked, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just that's the funniest thing you ever said!" With that, their laughter redoubled.

"Harry, Ron, I'm serious!" Hermione shouted.

The laughter died a tragic death.

"What?" Ron hissed, starting forward.

"Mate..." Harry said, frowning, laying a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"I don't have a choice," Hermione trembled, choking back a few tears. "You know I've been sick – or something, whatever it's been, the last year." She paused. "I just couldn't take it anymore. I went to see Snape. He's been having some of the same symptoms. We decided to try this out, just for six months or so. We'll see what happens, but... I had to do something. I can't risk... whatever might happen if my health continues to deteriorate as it has done this year." She finished her ramble by plopping on the floor and bursting into tears.

0o0o0o0

Later that night, after many more tears on Hermione's part, many protestations on Ron's part, and much silence, confusion and attempted understanding on Harry's part, the three of them trod back to the Apparition point.

"You don't have to go right away," Ron said shortly.

"I still have to see my parents and let them know what's happening," Hermione reminded him spiritlessly.

"Lay off her, Ron," Harry said. "It's hard enough for her as it is."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Promise you'll write?" Hermione asked them both.

Harry laughed. "You know I won't. I'll try, but you know it won't happen."

Hermione laughed. "Ron?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Hermione's smile faltered.

0o0o0o0

"Good evening, Miss Granger," Severus said stiffly, opening the front door. Taking her bags from her, he said, "Allow me to show you your chambers."

"I have chambers?" Hermione questioned, following him down the hall.

"Yes, I have prepared a few rooms for your particular use."

"Oh. Oh good... Thank you."

"Don't regard it."

"I'll take that as another 'You're welcome'," Hermione responded wryly.

"You may do so if you wish," Severus said, raising a quelling eyebrow. Just because they shared a Lifebond didn't mean that they were on terms of levity yet.

Yet? There was no yet. They would find a cure for Hermione and for him. There would be no yet.

Would there?

Severus opened the mahogany door and ushered her into the room. He rarely used this part of the house. As small as the house was, all he used was his own bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and library, in addition to the basement which he used to conduct his small but flourishing Potions business.

He set her bags down by the bed. "If you have need of me, I shall be in the kitchen. You should have no difficulty locating it." He bowed gracefully – a surprising contrast to his stiff, uncomfortable manner – and exited the room.

0o0o0o0

Hermione half expected him to billow his robes behind him, but he did not. After puzzling for a moment, she set to unpacking.

She had certainly not expected her own set of rooms, she mused, and certainly nothing on this scale. She had expected a bare, extra room and – not much else.

One glance at the bedroom alone, however, made it clear that he had taken at least a modicum of effort to Transfigure a part of his house for her. The room was beautifully furnished, with large windows facing the front garden, adorned by brocade curtains. The massive mahogany sleigh bed, placed with its headboard against the windows, was covered in the softest duvet imaginable. True, the décor was almost entirely green, but as much as she would never admit it to Ron or even Harry, Hermione rather liked this shade of green, and she doubted that Snape had decorated her room so beautifully just to spite her with the colour.

Having deposited the contents of her suitcases in the closet and sideboard, she ventured into the connecting bathroom.

"He didn't," she gasped.

The bathroom was beautifully lit, with sky windows, polished green and gold tinted granite surfaces and, right in the middle, a gold-lined Moroccan bathtub.

Hermione almost cried.

0o0o0o0

She wandered through the foyer and found her way into the kitchen, where Snape was preparing supper, robe discarded over the shiny, forest-green tiled counter, white sleeves of his typical collared shirt rolled up.

She sniffed the air. "Salmon for dinner, then?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes." Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask if she could help, Snape said, "There are vegetables over there which you may dice for the salad."

"Oh... Thank – ok." Hermione shot a covert glance at him as she moved to the other end of the counter to commence her dicing.

He glanced at her. "Do you always insist on wearing Muggle clothes?"

Hermione made a split second decision at that moment: if they were going to cohabit together, she couldn't treat him as a feared professor. She had to treat him like a bloody roommate.

This flashed through her mind in a nanosecond, and in another nanosecond she blurted, "Do you always insist on wearing wizarding clothes?"

"Wizarding clothes are normal," Snape replied dryly.

"So are Muggle clothes."

"Only in the Muggle world."

"You're living in a bloody Muggle house," Hermione said calmly.

"Language, Miss Granger," Snape remarked serenely.

Hermione froze. Had Snape just made a joke?

0o0o0o0

Severus froze. Had he just made a joke to Hermione Granger?!

This was unacceptable.

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

Damn!

0o0o0o0

Hermione had to put down her knife because she was shaking so hard.

"Miss Granger? Are you well?"

"I – yes," she gasped, "I'm sorry, it's just – so ridiculous," she giggled.

He turned back to seasoning his salmon.

After a period of silence, Hermione said quietly, "Thank you for the room. It's quite, er... quite lovely."

"It was nothing," he replied in clipped, cool tones.

Hermione flushed in impatience. Was he utterly incapable of graciousness? She tried reminding herself of his kindness in regards to her room, but was unable to stifle her irritation.

A few minutes later, having constructed the salad, Hermione wiped her hands on her jeans and said, "I'm going to wash up. Would you call me when supper's ready?"

Without turning from his task, Snape said, "Very well."

Hermione paused uncomfortably, turned and left.

0o0o0o0

Strolling through the door connecting her bathroom and her bedroom, she yawned and tucked her towel closer round her. Mid yawn, she realised she was ravenous. She hadn't wanted to eat so badly since... about a year ago. At this realisation, she experienced an odd thing – it was as if she ought to be getting a sinking feeling, but wasn't. She ought to feel disappointed, even horrified that, somehow, against both of their wills, Snape's presence seemed to have become the only thing in her life which could relax her enough to have an appetite.

Just as she was about to drop her towel, there was a knock at the door.

"Don't come in," Hermione called.

The door opened as Snape said, "Supper is..." Eyes widening, he whipped around, exclaiming, "I thought you said, 'Come in'!"

"I said, 'Don't come in'!"

" I apologise, I..."

"Just leave!" Hermione said firmly.

Without another word, he exited the room.

Hermione pressed her hands to her hot cheeks.

0o0o0o0

Severus stormed out to his rose garden, came to a sudden stop and breathed in and out, clenching his fists.

He was, to be quite candid, furious; partly with himself for being fool enough to go to her room (although, what else should he have done – sent a bloody Patronus?) and partly with Miss Granger – although as he contemplated this, he realised reluctantly that he did not actually have a reason to be angry with her. Primarily, he was angry at God – if there ever were such a being. Such a truly horrifying occurrence of events should never have been allowed to happen.

He breathed once more, in and out, then turned. The salmon needed to be taken off the grill.

0o0o0o0

Hermione couldn't decide if she was more angry or humiliated. It wasn't as if he had seen anything; her towel had given her full coverage. Still, she felt exposed. She was angry at Snape for having made her feel exposed, even though she knew it wasn't his fault; he had said he had misunderstood her.

She was still angry.

0o0o0o0

Severus sat at the dark pine desk in his library, chewing his salmon. As he chewed, he slowly realised he was not thinking about salmon – he was thinking about sex.

Disgusted with himself, he spat out the formerly delicious salmon.

Severus Snape was not a man who chose to live as one ruled by his impulses. He had certainly made a few choice decisions in his youth and with the Death Eaters which he had later regretted violently, but as a rule he preferred to control his baser passions with an iron will.

Therefore, he did not believe the peculiar stirrings taking place within him at that moment were the result of the commonly used, vulgar phrase, "It's been too long." What he believed was that he was a human male in possession of the normal, anatomical parts who had just seen a young girl in a towel, even if it was (he shuddered) Hermione Granger.

He moved to contemplate his chart of Ancient Runes in an effort to quell the undesirable phantasms swimming through his brain. Dragging a hand over his face, he exhaled, attempting to also quell the rage, indignation and anxiety coursing through him. If there was ever a damnable conundrum of a situation to be unwillingly tossed into... He snarled at his Ancient Runes chart.

As he tried to relax, he pondered taking up smoking to relieve the tension he foresaw to be ensuing in the next six months.

He exhaled again. This was going to be more difficult than even his powers of cognition had foretold.

0o0o0o0

Hermione paced by her bed, twisting the sash of her bathrobe round her fingers. She was so frustrated she could feel hot, angry tears bristling behind her eyes.

It just wasn't fair! She had just undergone the most traumatic year of her life, hunting down and defeating the forces of evil and had wanted to spend a quiet year or two recuperating with Ron and Harry, then explore her secondary scholastic options – slash – job opportunities.

She had not wanted to spend the rest of her life attached at the hip to Severus Snape.

"Just for six months," she muttered, resuming the twisting of her sash feverishly.

Oh, who the bloody hell was she kidding? Her life was over.

She flopped on her bed and screamed into her pillow.

Perhaps, she reflected, she ought to take up smoking as a way to relieve the tension she foresaw to be ensuing in the next few months.

She rolled over on her back. This was going to be even more difficult than she had allowed herself to imagine.