As much a war as a marriage...

II. As Much a War as a Marriage

Present day

"So, Daddy, you and Mummy ran away and got married that very night?" Serena asked.

"Yes, we did. It was just the two of us, along with a Muggle innkeeper and his wife. They married us over the anvil that very night, ten years ago today." He paused, glancing at the clock. If his wife didn't hurry, they would be late for the theater. He was taking her to a revival of "The Taming of the Shrew." It was a running joke between them now, but for those first months of their marriage...

Serena interrupted his musings, "And you lived happily ever after, right, Daddy?"

He chuckled. He still found it difficult to believe that this delightful, inquisitive sprite had come out of what had been, initially, as much a war as a marriage.

Nine years and nine months earlier

Severus opened the door to his quarters cautiously, hoping to sneak past his erstwhile wife if she happened to be present. How naïve he had been when he had told her he doubted she could make his life worse! She seemed to have taken his words as a personal challenge.

She had made it her life's mission to make his life hell since the day three months ago when they had married. Her opening salvo had been to announce that she was not going to have people thinking she had married to evade the effects of the Marriage Law, which had been passed a mere three days after their hasty wedding. In retrospect, Hermione's determination to keep their mutual disregard to themselves had turned out to be fortunate, because when the "Law to Prevent Decline in the Population of Wizarding Britain" (informally referred to by all and sundry as the "Marriage Law") had passed, a close reading made clear that marriages that could be proven to have been entered into for the purpose of avoiding the terms of said law could be voided by the Ministry at its discretion.

So instead of a marriage on paper only, in which he and his bride lived separate lives and continued ignoring one another much as they had previously, Severus found himself with an actual wife.

Well, except for the sex, unfortunately.

She had moved herself, her cat, and everything she owned into his quarters, forcing him to make room at every turn. She had used her extensive knowledge of charms to coax the castle into expanding his quarters, which now boasted a bedroom just for her. At least she didn't convert my private study into a bedroom, Severus thought now, having learnt to be grateful for small mercies. Of course, that was probably because she wanted to ensure a place for all their combined books rather than out of any consideration for him. Not to mention the study was currently neither his nor private. ('What's yours is mine,' indeed, Severus thought with a snort).

Now, seeing that the sitting room was empty, he quietly shut the door behind himself and quickly crossed to his bedroom, only to jump when she said, "There you are, Severus! I was beginning to think you wouldn't be back in time for our tea with Neville and Lavender!"

Severus rolled his eyes. This was part two of Hermione's drive-Severus-crazy plan, he knew. After all, part one was no longer really anything special – they would have had to pretend to be in love regardless, and it was probably better that she had begun that even before the law had passed. His lack of reciprocation, initially, had been put down to his usual surly, quiet nature. If she had been less demonstrative, however, it would have been harder to explain away. Not that Severus had ever thanked her for it, of course. She certainly mustn't discover that he didn't really mind all her kisses and hugs and smiles and touches. That would upset the balance of power far too much.

So now, she constantly nagged him into being social – having tea with her friends and tolerating their inane conversations without hexing anyone. After all, she had pointed out, if he really were as in love with her as they were pretending, he would hardly upset her by hexing – or even avoiding – her friends, would he?

Why had he never realized how good she was at arguing people into corners?

Still, no matter how much Hermione tried to drive him crazy, she was certainly a far better wife than Trelawney would have been. Avoiding sex with Trelawney was worth his wife's ongoing campaign to irritate him.

Severus realized now, by the way she was glaring at him, that he hadn't actually answered her question, so he said (with as little sarcasm as he could manage), "Of course I'm planning to join you and your friends for tea. I wouldn't miss it for anything, my dear."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she apparently decided to let it go for now. They both knew he couldn't afford to risk anyone figuring out that their marriage was a sham. He wished she weren't quite so clever – within minutes after they had announced their marriage, she had gleaned that his greatest fear was being snared by Trelawney. Whoever Hermione might get stuck with if their ruse were found out and their marriage annulled, they were both aware that it couldn't possibly be as bad as the risk that he would end up with Trelawney. After all, there were no more unmarried former Death Eaters gadding about, and who else did a member of the Golden Trio possibly have to fear?

As he sipped his tea, he watched his former students covertly. He just didn't see how any reasonably competent Arithmancer could have come up with an algorithm that would match this particular pair.

Severus would have sworn that Brown would try to run roughshod over Longbottom, creating misery for both of them, because her head had always been turned by celebrity, not substance. Even Severus could admit that, as abysmal as Longbottom was at potion-making, he was a competent herbologist and had become a man of substance. When it came down to it, the easygoing facade got dropped and Longbottom's Gryffindor intractability would always win out. Thus, Brown would likely become a disappointed, bitter, nagging harpy, while Longbottom would suffer in quiet misery, but refuse to bow to his wife's pressure to do something more publicly laudable.

Which was a shame, really. Severus wouldn't wish that fate on any man, not even Hermione's more annoying friends – namely Potter and Weasley. Of all his wife's friends, in fact, Longbottom was now near the top of the list of those Severus found tolerable, so he rather hoped he might be wrong in his analysis and Brown also had some unsuspected depths to her character.

He very much doubted it, though.

As he sipped his tea, occasionally nodding or adding a pithy comment to the general conversation, he pondered some of the couples who had been matched by the law. As he considered it, most of the couples deemed "compatible" by the Marriage Law had Severus scratching his head. Ronald Weasley and Padma Patil? He had thought Patil had hated Weasley since their ill-fated Yule Ball experience in their fourth year.

Potter with Pansy Parkinson? Lovegood with Zabini? Charlie Weasley with Penelope Clearwater? Percy Weasley with Rosmerta? George Weasley with Bulstrode? These matches seemed to Severus to be ill-conceived at best.

Present day

Severus returned his attention to Serena, who was tugging on his sleeve. "Daddy, Uncle Draco's here!"

Turning, Severus noted that his godson had indeed arrived. He was surprised, though, to see Ginny with him. He greeted Draco, then said, "Ginevra, I wasn't expecting you, but it's good to see you in any event."

Serena said, "Uncle Draco, did you and Aunt Ginny get married 'cause of the law, too?"

Draco laughed. "You might say that, sprite. Aunt Ginny and I got married because we heard the law was coming and we wanted to be sure we'd be together."

"Oh, just like Daddy and Mummy," Serena said, nodding solemnly.

"What have you been telling this child, Severus?" Ginny asked Severus quietly. Severus supposed it was inevitable that his wife's closest friends would have been suspicious of their sudden marriage, and once the law had been repealed, Hermione would have had no reason not to tell them the truth of the matter. He wasn't going to confirm or deny, however.

Instead, he groused, "She wanted to know about our wedding. What was I supposed to do?" He gave her a speaking look, daring her to shatter his daughter's romantic view of how her parents had gotten together.

"Oh," Ginny said. "I suppose that makes sense." She apparently realized that Hermione would be very upset if her daughter learned that her parents had once actively disliked each other. "What have you told her?"

"That we couldn't resist getting married, we decided to do it ourselves in Gretna Green because the Ministry was going to enact the law, and that we were glad we did it."

"Oh, fair enough." Ginny smiled. "I'm glad you told her the truth, such as it is." She winked and let the subject drop. "Now, as it's your tenth anniversary, and you only get one of those, Draco and I have decided to bring Serena back to our place and stay the night so that you and Hermione may have a private celebration." When Severus began to protest – he didn't like letting his baby go anywhere with anyone, really – she added, "You know she'll have a good time with Scorpius, and Lucius was saying just the other day that he hasn't seen her in ages. He is her godfather, you know." Severus had secured Hermione's agreement to that arrangement by manipulating her into a wager of sorts. It wasn't his fault that she hadn't heard about Minerva's impending retirement quite as early as he had, was it?

"All right, fine," Severus gave in with as much grace as he could muster. "As long as Hermione says it's all right."

Just then, Hermione came out of their bedroom in a slinky silver sheath, leaving Severus speechless and rather pleased that he would have her all to himself for the whole night. She smiled, correctly interpreting his expression, and thanked him with her eyes before she asked, "As long as Hermione says what's all right?"

Draco said, "We'd like to keep Serena for the night, if you don't mind. Give you and Sev some time alone."

"Thanks, that sounds great," Hermione said, but Severus frowned. "What? You don't like the idea?"

"No, it's not that," Severus replied irritably. "I was just wondering how many times I have to ask my godson not to call me Sev."

Hermione laughed. "You may as well give that up as a lost cause. He'll never stop, especially now that he knows how much it irritates you."

Ginny said, "We'll just get Serena's things together and be on our way. You should get going, though, or you'll be late."

Glancing at the clock, Severus realized Ginny was correct. He kissed his daughter good night, then helped Hermione with her wrap, slid his arms around her, and Apparated them away.

During the interval, Severus brought his wife's hand to his lips. "Are you enjoying yourself, love?"

"Yes, it's wonderful," she replied, smiling. "Remember the first time we saw it?"

"Our first anniversary. How could I forget?" he murmured.

Nine years ago

To keep up appearances, Hermione had insisted that they must mark their first anniversary publicly. Trelawney had been pushing to have the Ministry look more closely at all marriages that had happened just prior to the Marriage Law. She claimed to have foreseen doom for all of Wizarding Britain if even a single sham marriage were allowed to stand.

The inquiries had begun just this week. They were going alphabetically, and there were more than a hundred to get through, so Severus assumed it would be weeks or months before they got to the Snapes. Still, he had been forced to agree that ignoring their anniversary would not help their cause. They needed to be public about "celebrating" it.

When Hermione suggested a night out in Muggle London, Severus agreed. He left it to her to make their anniversary arrangements, and she informed him that they were going to see a Shakespeare revival and then to a late supper. She suggested that he put it about that he was surprising her and swear a few people to secrecy. That way, she said, they could be sure that word of their activities would reach the right ears when the time came.

The funny thing was, he would be utterly content with his marriage – public displays of affection, tea with dunderheads and all – except for one thing: the sex. Or, more accurately, the lack of sex. Though he would never admit it aloud, her attempts to goad him were actually rather amusing. He thoroughly enjoyed the mischievous sparkle in her eyes when she did or said something outrageous. When his response was particularly witty, she would flush a becoming pink and purse her lips to keep from laughing. He often found himself thinking how utterly kissable she looked. More than once, he found himself reduced to mentally reciting the twelve uses of Dragon's blood or the recipe for Shrinking Solution in order to regain control over his suddenly overactive libido.

He wasn't quite sure when it had happened, and it certainly surprised him as much as anyone, but he found himself desiring more intimate physical contact with his wife. The kisses and touches and hugs of their public life had become his own private torture. What on earth had possessed him to suggest a celibate marriage? And why had he agreed to let her add that stupid bedroom to his quarters? If they were sleeping in the same bed, he was sure he could manage to seduce her without tipping her off that that was what he was doing. But with separate bedrooms, he was doomed.

Their first anniversary arrived, and though he had been somewhat skeptical, Severus thoroughly enjoyed the play. He suspected that Hermione was somehow making a statement about their marriage, though he wasn't sure which of them was meant to be the shrew, and he refused to rise to her bait by asking her.

Afterward, over dinner and two bottles of wine, they discussed the play and the actors and debated whether the rumor that Shakespeare was a wizard had any truth to them.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Hermione suddenly turned serious. "Severus, do you suppose we'll convince them that our marriage is real?"

"Of course, why wouldn't we?" Severus asked, surprised by the change of subject.

"It's just... well..." Hermione seemed embarrassed. "My mother commented to me once that you can always tell when people who are in the same room are sleeping together."

Hermione had never managed to find her parents after the war, Severus knew, which probably accounted for the slight hitch in her voice when she mentioned either one of them. She was still looking, even after all this time, and he found himself keeping his tone gentle whenever they came up in conversation. This time was no different. "You must have been very young when you had that conversation, Hermione."

"Not really – not all that young," Hermione said softly. "It was one of the last conversations we had before... well, before. She wanted to talk to me about birth control, and I asked why she thought I needed it. That was when Ron was with Lavender. She had seen us all together at King's Cross when they picked me up after Sixth Year. She said that she could see Ron and Lavender were involved, and she supposed that meant I should be prepared, too. I asked how she knew Ron and Lavender were involved that way, and she said, 'I can just tell. There's a certain kind of energy in the room when two lovers are present. It was there between Ron and Lavender. You're the same age, so I have to assume you'll be getting involved with someone yourself, soon.'" Hermione paused. "I thought she was insane, at the time, but now I'm not so sure. I knew immediately, the first time I saw Draco and Ginny together after they did it for the first time."

Severus thought before answering. Inwardly, he was rejoicing – he might get to slake his desire, after all! And if he made it really good for her, maybe she would want to keep doing it! Outwardly, he remained impassive; eventually, he cast a Silencing Charm around them and asked carefully, "So you think that if we don't have sex before the Ministry gets around to investigating us, we'll be found out?"

"I think it's a possibility we should discuss." She watched him for a moment, as if trying to discern his thoughts. When he said nothing, she ventured, "Whatever we think of one another, sex is certainly preferable to having the entire world realize we've been lying all this time. And based on the matches the Ministry has been making, I have to think I'm more content with you than I would be with anyone they'd come up with! I'm surprised none of my friends has snapped and killed someone – every single one of them, save Ginny, is completely miserable! And Ginny and Draco married before the law took effect!" Lucius, having decided that even a Weasley was a better choice than a Muggle-born, had nudged Draco into persuading Ginny to marry him shortly before the law took effect. The pair had followed Severus and Hermione's example and slipped off to Gretna Green with just two days to spare. Fortunately, the pair had already been dating for a few weeks; combined with Lucius's selective application of the right pressure on the appropriate officials, that fact had resulted in the Ministry not looking too closely into their marriage.

"True," Severus agreed now. Hermione's comment about Marriage Law matches wasn't inaccurate, in his opinion. He decided to be more blunt about the situation than he had been to date. "I've been thinking the same thing myself. The first time I considered that their algorithm might be faulty, as you know, was when I persuaded you to marry me. As I saw the various matches coming out, I became more convinced I had been right not to let the Ministry have a say in who I married." He sighed. "I hate to say it, but I think Sibyll was somehow involved in developing the algorithm."

"Trelawney? That old fraud? How would she? And why?"

"I don't mean to sound egotistical, Hermione, but the fact is, she's been trying to convince me we were fated to be together since before you were born." He decided to give her all the facts in hopes of solidifying her apparent belief that they should have sex rather sooner than later. She would make a stronger ally if she knew what they were up against, and she had already admitted she was content to stay with him. "Do you remember a few days before we were married, when you were talking about the proposed law at dinner? With Longbottom?"

"You were listening?" She sounded affronted at the very notion. "Is that how you found out about the law?"

"Yes," Severus said impatiently, "but that's not the point. The point is that Sibyll was listening, too, and she looked smug when I caught her eye."

"Suspicious, but hardly conclusive," Hermione said.

"True, but then even with all his money and influence, Lucius couldn't manage to find out who created the algorithm. He also couldn't manage to get the Ministry to drop the whole idea."

"Are you suggesting that Sibyll Trelawney has more influence than Lucius Malfoy?"

"If she approached them correctly, then yes, she would."

"How?"

"You are aware how much stock they place in prophecies, are you not?"

"Well, yes, but how would that affect the algorithm? She's no Arithmancer."

"No, but a second prophecy would take care of that, wouldn't it? She could prophesy that the Arithmancer made an error that must be corrected in private. Or perhaps she somehow got hold of it and changed it herself, or bribed or blackmailed someone into doing it for her. There are any number of ways for a determined Seer to change things to suit herself."

"Perhaps," Hermione allowed. They were silent, each pondering the situation for several minutes as they finished their pudding. At last, Hermione said, "Returning to my original point, which you haven't really addressed, what do you propose we do about the sex question?"

"Assuming what you say is true – that anyone who's looking carefully will be able to tell – I don't see any way around it. We'll simply have to consummate the marriage."

"I agree," Hermione said. "Let's go."

Severus felt his lip twitch. "Impatient, are we?"

"No time like the present. Let's go." She was starting to look irritated, so Severus decided a wise man would shut his mouth and go.

Being a wise man, that's exactly what he did.