Three

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Thanks go to fizzabella for the beta read!

Severus Snape sat in the darkened, stuffy room with an untouched glass of firewhisky in his hand. He'd been there for at least an hour. He'd survived the war...somehow...and this was the thanks he got for all that he'd done? He was now being forced to marry someone, which would...allegedly...repay his debt to society. Hadn't he had enough masters in his life?

First, there were his parents. Then came Lucius Malfoy. Then the Dark Lord and, shortly after that, Dumbledore. Needless to say, he'd been shocked when he'd awakened at St. Mungo's. It seemed that Fawkes had saved his life, and Severus had been sent there for help. Once his survival had been assured, he'd vowed to make the most of his life...to live it to its fullest and to do things that he wanted for a change.

There had been some talk that the Ministry was establishing a department that helped match couples...based on blood status, interests, and whatever else...but they'd assured the public that such a thing wouldn't be mandatory. Sneering, his eyes looked at the letter in his other hand. Again, he read, Your probation will end early as a result of your pending marriage, and your debt to society for past misdeeds will be forgiven.

For the last three years, he'd been on probation, though he'd never been indicted for any wrong doings. It seemed that not everyone trusted him.

Oh, they'd made it sound nice...how'd he have a choice, time to find someone who matched him perfectly, how'd he'd be paid by the Ministry a little each month to help out with his taking on a new partner, and how that rate increased with the birth of each child thereafter. "Bollocks," he muttered. They couldn't really force this on him, could they? The Wizarding world would never stand for something such as this.

A snort sounded...his own, to his surprise. What would they care about him? He was certain that no "good" or "upstanding" citizens would be forced into a situation; therefore, they wouldn't commiserate with him. Several loud thumps reverberated through the room. Someone was as the front door, and it could only be one whom he called friend, else the wards wouldn't have allowed the visitor to get so close.

He stood and went to the door, cracking it only slightly to see who was standing on its other side. "Lucius," he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Lucius shook a parchment at him. "This! Did you get one?"

Severus recognized a letter identical to the one he'd been holding moments earlier. "I did."

"Well, are you going to invite me in?"

Opening the door wider and stepping aside, Severus asked, "But what are you doing with a letter? You're married."

"It's not for me! It's Draco's! They've already said they'll not retract it."

"But Parkinson..."

"They disapprove of the match."

"The letter plainly says that we can find someone suitable."

"Someone who's also taken the bloody survey and answered their questions. If the person comes up as a possible match, only then can they be chosen."

"You jest. My parchment said no such thing."

"Of course it doesn't. I've been at the Ministry all day learning what's not been said."

"I think it's time for me to drink my shot of whisky."

"I'll have one as well."

Closing the door, Severus led Lucius into his small sitting room where the untouched firewhisky awaited them.

Much later, after Lucius had left, an intoxicated Severus glared at the parchment and began talking to it. "How dare you show up at my home... uninvited!"

He snickered. "What the hell am I thinking?" Trying to school his expression into something business-like, he added, "I'll not talk to you again. Ahahahaha! I just did, didn't I? This... see? This is why I don't like to drink."

Straightening the crumpled parchment, he gazed at the questions. "Blah... blah... yes, yes. Oh, what blood status am I? You know I'm a half-blood already. It fucking says so at the top under the salutation." Snorting with laughter at the realization that he was still talking to the parchment, he shrugged and carried on. "So, what blood status would I prefer my mate to be?"

Lily's lovely face flashed through his mind, but instead of feeling the warmth that usually accompanied her memory, he felt angry. Why had she chosen Potter? Why couldn't she have just had more faith in him? Why? Why? "Why not make it a Mudblood, Little Survey Parchment? They've never failed me in the past, have they?"

Instantly regretting his words, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it." He'd not used that word in many years and loathed when others used it. What had prompted him to say such a nasty thing... and about her no less? It was that very word that had started their troubles. Sort of.

Not wanting to admit that he preferred redheads to any others, he snidely blurted, "Why, I would appreciate a brunette, I think." He closed his eyes and imagined Lily with brown hair and found that it didn't suit her. "Or not, if I must be honest."

His brow furrowed. "They can't be serious: what body type do I prefer? That's a little insulting, I think." His shocked expressed turned into a sneer. "I can just see the lot now. 'Oh, I'll have a thin man with sallow skin please.' What irony if I'll not prove to be a suitable match for anyone."

He lifted a hand and gazed at his skin: not so sallow now that he'd been able to take better care of himself and was getting out more often. Mischievously, he announced, "I want a wife with plump arse, nice breasts... and strong thighs...the better to tightly wrap herself around my body. Ahahahaha." He laughed until his mouth ached, wondering what he'd found so funny in the first place. Actually, the thought of a woman with her legs wrapped around him as he fucked her was quite an appealing thought.

Severus thought about the friend he'd been talking to down the pub. She was exactly the type of woman he could appreciate, and she'd let it be known that he was her type. Briefly he wondered if she would consider taking the questionnaire and try to match her answers with his. It wouldn't be so bad, having her as a bedmate. He knew he couldn't love her. There was just too much regret and ill feeling left over from his last experience with love. However, he could share his life with someone and could very well like her a great deal.

"Ah, but not her," he decided at once. "Sex might be great, but what about the other twenty-three and a half hours of the day?

"Definitely, for certain, most adamantly, I want a woman whose intellect matches my own... and who doesn't mind sex when I want it." He smirked. "Ah, who am I kidding? This is all rubbish anyway. I'm not going to allow them to force me into this."

Severus read through the rest of the parchment, for what must have been the hundredth time that evening, and made comments the entire time, wishing he could have a few choice words with the makers of the bloody questionnaire. Lucius had been right. Something would be done. This wouldn't hold up. People would be outraged.

Feeling dizzy, he sat down and read the last line. "I, Severus Snape, do hereby declare the above to be honest answers to the best of my ability and am now complete."

Surprising him, the parchment vibrated, rolled itself up, and then disappeared with a small popping noise. "What the fuck...?" He looked around. Had Lucius returned to mess with his head? Realization set in. "No... It can't be. Impossible. I wasn't even serious about half of what I'd said."

Staring at the empty bottle of Ogden's accusingly, he said, "Oral suffices." It was then that the sudden urge to sleep overtook him, and he eased back into his chair. Surely it was just a misunderstanding that he could clear up first thing in the morning. Being into his cups would make them understand that he hadn't truly meant to answer the questions and that he didn't even approve of the bloody demands they'd set on him.

First thing in the morning, he'd go round the Ministry and give them a few choice words, probably landing him in Azkaban. However, that sounded more appealing at the moment than some nagging harpy he'd never met becoming his wife.

Hermione awoke on the couch and looked around the unfamiliar room feeling disoriented. Then it dawned on her that she'd fallen asleep in Ron's new home while waiting for him to return. He must have returned because she'd been covered with a blanket and her shoes had been taken off. As she shifted, she felt something warm and small move against her. Immediately she thought of Crooks and reached behind her to pet her familiar...thinking Ron had gone to get him. What she found, however, was a wet nose and an eager tongue. "

"Ugh," she said, sitting up quickly. "Muffin!" she exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing curling up with me?" She smiled despite herself and reached out to pet the little dog's white fur. "You poor thing. Do you miss your mummy?"

"I see she's growing on you," Ron said from the doorway.

She looked up to find him leaning against the doorjamb, a coffee cup in one hand, the shirt he'd had on the night before partially unbuttoned, and his feet bare. "Maybe," she said. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Me too," he said. "I feel like a right prick." He moved and walked into the room to sit next to her. "Sip?"

"No, I think I'll brush my teeth first."

"Ever the dentists' daughter."

"You know it," she said with a grin. "And you weren't a prick last night, not much of one anyway, so don't feel badly about it."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking. Haven't been to bed yet even."

Hermione noticed for the first time the serious expression on his face. "And what have you concluded?"

Ron sucked in a breath and exhaled it slowly. "I think we should take some time apart."

"What?" she asked, completely shocked. This turn of events hadn't been something she expected. She'd always thought that if they were to take a break, she would be the one to ask for it...not Ron. "Why?"

"I dunno. Maybe we're rushing into something here."

"But we do love each other. I did a lot of thinking last night as well, and I realized that what you said makes sense."

He nodded and didn't meet her eyes. "I don't want to wait for a family that might never come. I shouldn't have to barter with you on when we can try or not. Five years is a long time. I want to be a dad now."

Hermione swallowed. She knew she couldn't agree to it. She just wasn't ready to put something ahead of her career. "I'm not ready to be a mum."

"Yeah. I know."

"Well...." She was at a loss for words. "Maybe we can consider it at two years instead. I'm sure I can..."

"I don't want you to put aside your goals for me. It would be like what my dad did to Mum. It's just not right."

"Your mother loves what she's done with her life. You can't deny it!"

"Yeah, she does now, but she wanted to be a Healer at one time. I see the look in her eyes when she talks about it. She wonders what might have been. I just don't want that happening to you... or to us."

"So you're leaving me, ending things."

"No, not at all," he said, placing his cup aside and reaching for her hands. "I think we should take some time apart to think about what we really want. My cards are on the table. I want a family soon. It can work, I know it can...the family, your career. I know this because I love you enough to make it work somehow."

"Ho-how much time apart?" she asked, trying not to let her disappointment show.

"How much time do you need to come to a decision?" he asked as he squeezed her hands.

"This seems..." Her words trailed away. Unfair, her mind added after a moment.

"I'll always love you, Hermione, no matter what."

"I need to go home," she said, removing her hands from his and standing abruptly.

"Don't cry, love."

"Who says I'm about to c-cry?" Tears formed in her eyes, and she tried unsuccessfully to blink them away.

Ron stood and pulled her into an embrace. "Whatever you decide, I'll accept it. Either I'll be your husband or your best friend. Nothing will change that I want to have you in my life however I can. You know that, right?"

She nodded against his chest, still silently crying in despair. He would truly let her go if that was what she wanted. She'd even been toying with the idea lately, but only as a passing thought. She'd never really envisioned her life without him; she'd only wanted to put their marriage and family on hold until she was ready.

Would she ever be ready? That was the question and one that deserved an honest answer. Pulling back, she said, "All right. I'll owl you in a few days."

"Take your time."

Hermione lifted one of his hands and kissed its palm while Ron mirrored her action, lifting her hand and kissing the finger upon which her engagement ring now set. Without another word, she quickly Disapparated, needing her own home, her own bed.