Chapter Four

That evening, like the one before it, was spent in silence. Not until Hermione was packing up her homework to go bed did Severus speak.

'I told you to remain in the bathroom.'

'Well, I'm glad I didn't,' said Hermione in as haughty a voice as she could muster. 'At least now I know where I stand with you. And by the way, I have not the least desire for you to 'get it up' with me.'

She knew instantly she had gone too far. Severus blanched, and the quill he was holding snapped in two. Hermione thought he was going to scream at her or hit her, even, and she ran from the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She fully expected him to come storming after her... and what? Rape her, just to prove he could? She knew he was evil, but somehow she just didn't believe he would do that to her. Not after how gentle he'd been mopping her up this afternoon.

The sound of glass knocking violently on wood told her that he had sought refuge in Firewhisky again.

She was still angry though – as much with herself as with him, and she wrenched up the lid of her trunk and hurled her textbooks inside with a scream of frustration and fury. From inside the trunk came the sound of breaking glass, and she dropped to her knees, scrabbling in the trunk to find out what she'd broken.

It was the photo of her parents. Miserably, Hermione grasped the frame, and then winced as a shard of glass cut her finger. That was the final straw. Hermione slumped down beside her trunk, sobbing wretchedly and cradling the photograph to her.

She missed them. She missed them so much. The last two days had been horrible, and Hermione found she simply wanted her mum. If only she could put the photo on her bedside table. But if Snape saw it, he would report it to the rest of the Death Eaters. Hogwarts had her home address on file, and it only needed one visit and all her careful plans to hide them would crumble. "Oh, yes," she could imagine old Mrs Moffat next door saying. "They left quite suddenly. Went to Sydney, I think. Said it had always been their ambition to move to Australia." Then the Death Eaters would find them, and Merlin only knew what they'd do to them. Especially if Hermione continued to fight Snape.

She tried to mend the glass, but nothing happened. Then she pointed her wand, in her left hand, at her cut finger and choked out, 'Episkey,' but it didn't work. Tears splashed down onto the photo, wrinkling its glossy surface. She put the broken photo frame back in the trunk, threw off her robes and crawled into bed in her underwear and without brushing her teeth. She curled up into a ball again and put her finger in her mouth to stop it bleeding. Severus couldn't fail to hear her sobbing, but she simply didn't care.

Again, he came to bed about half an hour after her, not bothering to go to the bathroom to change, as she was resolutely not looking at him.

When he had got into bed beside her, he said in a level voice, 'I was trying to keep you safe from Carrow.'

This was surprising news, but she refused to let her surprise show. 'I know.'

'And I will never force you to do... anything you do not want to do.'

'I know.'

'Then why are you still crying?' asked Severus, suppressing his exasperation with difficulty.

'I'm not.'

Severus sighed and shifted position to face her. 'Hermione, I know you think I am a monster, but I am not so utterly heartless as to ignore you while you cry yourself to sleep.'

'I cut my finger,' said Hermione, determinedly keeping her back to him. Even to her, her voice sounded childish. 'I tried to heal it, but I couldn't get the spell to work'

'That is because you have worked yourself up into such a state that you cannot concentrate.' But his voice wasn't reproving; he seemed genuinely concerned. 'Let me see.'

She turned awkwardly and held out her finger like a small child seeking comfort.

He scrutinised the cut, and then said, 'Episkey,' and the shallow cut healed instantly. 'Now,' he continued briskly, 'I refuse to believe that a woman who has been through as much as you have would cry over a cut finger.'

A woman. He thought of her as a woman. Only this afternoon he had called her a headstrong girl, and now he was referring to her as a woman. That was new, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. But in the absence of Harry, Ron and Ginny, Hermione needed a confidante. In her distress she forgot Snape was supposed to be evil and untrustworthy. Besides, he did seem truly concerned about her.

She still felt a bit foolish, however, and couldn't bring herself to look at him. 'It's my parents; I broke their photo frame, and I modified their memories, and now they're in Australia, and I don't know if I'll ever see them again.' It all came out in a rush, then she started crying again.

Severus tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. 'Hermione, you're babbling. Take a breath and try to make some sense. I can't help you if I can't understand you.'

This was so unexpected, she stopped crying. 'You want to help me?'

'As I keep saying, you are my wife. And I cannot sleep with you crying yourself into hysterics.'

Hermione took a deep breath as instructed and told Severus the whole story. Instead of berating her for recklessness or saying he was not surprised she didn't think she'd ever see her parents again, he looked thoughtful. 'It takes a great deal of concentration to Apparate halfway across the world, but it can be done. And you have your Apparition licence, so we would not have to use Side-Along-Apparition, which will make it considerably easier.'

'We?'

'I believe it is customary to meet one's parents-in-law. I know it usually happens before the wedding, but we hardly have a conventional marriage.' He gave a sardonic smile.

Hermione returned the smile. Then she started to giggle. Then, as often happens when you're confused and emotional, the giggles turned to sobs again. She had spent so much time crying in the past few days that it seemed to be a reflex action.

Severus reached out tentatively and stroked her hair. Hermione seemed comforted by the repetitive motion, relaxing and gradually quietening. He didn't know what made him do it, but as her eyes opened, and she looked directly at him, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione froze. Then she recoiled, her eyes now registering nothing but shock. She stared at him for a moment, horrified, then turned onto her other side and curled into a tiny ball again.

This time, Severus had no choice but to ignore her as she cried herself to sleep.

*

"Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control."

That damned book seemed to be taunting him. Whenever he looked at it, his eye caught another quote designed to make him feel even worse than he did already. He had even wondered if Hermione was leaving the book open at pertinent pages deliberately.

What the hell had made him do it? He could only think it was that he had never been able to cope with girls' tears. Even when Lily was small and cried over the latest mean thing Petunia had said, he had just stood there, twisting the sleeve of his robes and feeling useless.

Lily. He felt a crushing blow of guilt as he realised he hadn't thought about her for days. True, he tried not to dwell on her, but she was always there, at the back of his mind. But since this marriage had been forced on him, it was Hermione who filled his thoughts. She had grown, over the years, from a bossy little bushy-haired swot into a very pretty girl. Even with memories of Lily always there, he could not fail to notice that. And the confrontation with Carrow yesterday had only made things worse. Carrow seemed to have divined that their wedding night had not been a success, and if gossip spread, Hermione could be in grave danger. There was nothing actually about consummation in the Marriage Law (it was, after all designed to control Muggle-borns, not to strengthen magical bloodlines), but it was implied in the very word 'marriage', and Severus was sure that if the Ministry heard the rumour they would annul the marriage immediately and force Hermione to marry someone else. Someone like Carrow, who, for all his professed disgust, would not hesitate to rape her. Bile rose in Severus' throat at the thought.

No, he had to keep Hermione safe, and, for the moment, the easiest way to do that would be to teach her Occlumency as soon as possible. Luckily, today was Saturday, and Hermione, being Hermione, had finished all her homework last night, which meant they could start straight away.

After a rather strained breakfast, Severus led his wife back to the Headmaster's study and said, tersely, 'I think it would be prudent for me to teach you Occlumency. I do not wish the details of our... private life to be known by others.'

Hermione looked wary. 'Will you be able to see everything? Stuff I don't want you to see?'

'Hermione, as I told you yesterday, I will not force you to do anything you do not want to do.'

She coloured, but ignored the implication. Instead she said, 'You did with Harry. You forced your way into his memory.'

'That would not have happened had Potter practised as I instructed him.'

'Yet you're prepared to make an effort with me,' Hermione pressed.

Severus shrugged. 'Self-interest. As I said, I do not want the details of our life to be known by others.'

'Amycus Carrow, perhaps?' Hermione knew she was straying into dangerous territory, but she couldn't stop herself.

'Amongst others. Now kindly sit down and face me. We are wasting time.' He sat in his desk chair and conjured one opposite for Hermione.

'We will take this in stages. The easiest way is to imagine your mind as a room with doors leading off it. You will hide memories you do not want me to see behind those doors. Make the room plain – no paintings or photographs which could give anything away.' He pointed his wand at Hermione and said, 'Legilimens.'

She had done exactly as she was told; he saw a plain room with doors in the panelled walls.

Good. Now think of a memory you want me to see. Something innocuous.'

Hermione imagined doing her Ancient Runes homework.

'Excellent.' Severus permitted himself a small smile. For once, her ability to perform any given task perfectly was useful instead of annoying. 'Now remember something you wish me not to see, and put the memory behind one of the doors.'

Hermione smiled this time. Quite deliberately, she remembered kissing Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. Viktor and Hermione, still entwined, opened one of the doors and slunk through it.

'Good.' Severus' voice was strained. 'Now let the room disappear, along with the memory of... the memory you wish to hide, but allow the thought of you studying to remain.'

Hermione concentrated hard. It was difficult; she could still see Severus in front of her, concentrating too, but she managed to let the room in her mind dissolve. The Hermione doing her homework remained.

The real Hermione grinned in triumph – and lost her concentration. The memory of Viktor Krum burst through the door, still, as Ron would have delicately put it, snogging her.

Abruptly, she felt Severus' presence in her mind wrenched away. Focusing on his face, she saw that he had gone white, and his black eyes were glittering.

'Very good,' he said stiffly. 'You lost concentration at the end, but for a first attempt that was excellent.' He looked distinctly displeased, though, and after a second the reason hit her.

"He's jealous," she realised. "Jealous of Viktor Krum." The thought was strangely gratifying.

*

A/N: The idea of the mind as a room with doors behind which to hide private thoughts comes from Trudi Canavan's 'Black Magician' trilogy. The quote in the philosophy book is Solomon 25/28