Sweet Unrest

A/N: Dearest readers. See what happens when you leave me awesome reviews? You get the next chapter a day early!

I've promised to explain and clarify a few things for some of you, so rather than respond to you individually, I'll do it here. Feel free to skip on!

Why did I remove Denial from the internet? Why did I edit and rewrite? I can assure you, I wasn't playing the drama queen. I was just scared. Let me explain: In 2009, I began to write original YA fiction. Later that year, I undertook a university course in 'Creative Writing for Publication'. I befriended one of my author-teachers on the course, a novelist called Suzanne, who has been of enormous encouragement.

In September 2010 I won a runner-up spot in a national short story competition. My prize was a one-day workshop with authors, editors, publishers and agents. At that workshop I met the (at the time) chief editor of Puffin Ireland, who expressed interest in my YA novel and asked me to send the opening chapters. I did, and only hours later she requested the full manuscript and told me to get cracking on the sequel.

Suzanne, my writing teacher friend, told me to use Puffin's interest to try to get an agent. Within a week, I had interest from three London agents, and when the one who was top of my agent wish-list offered representation, I accepted. I was incredibly lucky. That agency receives up to 15,000 submissions a year, and only takes on between two and five new authors. I was ecstatic.

I went to London to meet my agent and the agency editor. While we had lunch, I told them all about my adventures in Fanfiction. I also expressed some concern about whether or not I should leave my fanfiction online. My concerns were: 1) If I found a publisher, might it be interpreted that I had my start from, and therefore made money from, the HP series? 2) Now that I was a YA author, would it be a bad thing if my link to stories with a fairly adult theme, using characters from a children's series, was discovered? 3) I felt my writing had improved and changed over the three years since I'd started Denial, and I was cringing at the fact that Denial was (to my mind) so over-written and littered with adverbs.

My agent pretty much dismissed the first two concerns, but about the third she asked would I have been embarrassed for her to read Denial? The answer was yes, I would have been. She said that was my answer. I also sought Suzanne's advice, and hers was similar.

And so, after some tears and doubts, I pressed the delete button. Denial was gone, along with the thousands of reviews it had received. It was a very, VERY hard thing to do, believe me. I could have left it online and edited it there, yes, but I knew it might be some time before I would have the time to tackle it. I was right – more than two years passed before the chance to sit down and edit came along.

So, what of my YA novel? Well, after the rewrite, it went pretty far at Puffin. But in the end, they rejected. And so did all the other major publishers. So I wrote another novel. My agent said it was the best YA thriller she'd ever read. No-one wanted it. Then my agent left the agency, and I was convinced that would be it, her opportunity to dump me. But no, she set up her own agency, told me she believed in me, and asked me to go with her, along with 18 of her published authors.

We spent many months rewriting my first novel, and meanwhile, I landed a small job writing for a series fiction company. My agent submitted my first novel again in February. Still, no luck. She's submitting my second novel again now, she encouraged me to put my fanfic back online, and I'm working on my third novel. I'm beginning to lose hope. There are times when I very badly want to give up. But I've come so far. I have an agent, which is something most writers dream of. And more importantly, I've had so much encouragement from family and friends and my readers. For now, I will keep going.

Please believe me when I say I did not remove Denial out of vanity or in a fit of melodrama, but out of a genuine fear that some editor would read it and think 'Geez. She sucks. Look at all those adverbs!' So now, when I write or edit, I think 'Would I be happy for my agent to read this?' If not, I edit again. So WWMAS (What Would My Agent Say?) has become my litmus test.

Would you care for an example? Consider this, when Severus finds Harry and Draco on his doorstep in Chapter 13. New version: The spectacle of them united made him wonder if the fumes from his cauldron had affected his usually razor-sharp wit.Old version: The spectacle of them united served to stagger him so violently that he wondered if the fumes from his cauldron had affected his usually razor-sharp wit. "Served to stagger him so violently"? Really? REALLY? What was I thinking? For the most part, this edit has been about deleting and simplifying. It is more than 30,000 words shorter. And I no longer sound so much like I swallowed a thesaurus.

There you go. A few of you have asked after Dr Beloved (my hubby). He is very well, and is still my greatest champion. I read him out all of my reviews, so he loves you almost as much as I do.

Right, I will end the epic there for today. But there's one more thing. I do recall, first time around, that a few readers were unhappy with this chapter and the next. They were frustrated; irritated. They wanted to smack Severus, and Hermione, and probably me. I consider that a job well done. There is often a calm before the storm. This is the storm before the calm. Trust me, please. Your patience and loyal readership will be rewarded.

LB x

Bright star! Would I were steadfast as thou art...

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors...

No...yet steadfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel forever its soft fall and swell,

Awake forever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever...or else swoon to death.

- John Keats, Bright Star!

***

Standing in the hallway, Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, and Severus nervously fingered his bottom lip, his mind racing as he tried to remember what he had said only moments before in the sitting room.

There was little doubt in his mind that Cordelia's untimely return meant she'd heard every word. His gaze strayed to his wife's trunk, sitting on the floor, her name inscribed in florid script upon the lid. He'd known he must approach the subject of his hoped-for divorce with great delicacy. Why had he suggested they return to his house instead of Hermione's when they'd left Paris? Why had he spoken of such significant issues with the door of the room wide open? The knowledge that he might have ruined his chances of a divorce burned like acid in his stomach.

Locking gazes once again with Hermione, he gave a short laugh of disbelief. Then, pressing a finger to his lips, he motioned Hermione forward and opened the front door. He had expected her to give way to tears once more, but her eyes remained dry, and her horror was evident on her pale face.

"It cannot be helped, Hermione," he whispered, leaning close. "I will proceed as planned, and if she overheard our conversation, I will deal with the consequences."

Hermione whispered urgently, "But, Severus, if she heard what we said ..."

"I repeat: It cannot be helped. It may make things difficult in the short term, but it changes nothing."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide, and finally nodded her understanding.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Try not to worry," he said, motioning for her to step through the open door. "I'll send word as soon as I can."

"I'll be back by three, so please, Severus, let me know when you can."

He nodded. "We may lock horns for hours, so don't fret if the day passes without a message; I promise to contact you as soon as possible."

Severus watched as she gave him a final nod before walking across the road. When she had disappeared from view, he shut the door and leaned his head against its cold, varnished surface, closing his eyes and steeling himself for the confrontation that was only moments away.

Cordelia had been his wife for almost seven years, and during that time they had managed to live in relative harmony. He had allowed her to continue her private life undisturbed, and until Hermione had arrived in his life, Cordelia had returned the compliment. They'd not once exchanged angry words before Hermione had begun work as his assistant, and he knew his wife well enough to know she could be dangerous when her pride had been injured. Getting her to agree to a divorce would not now be easy. An outright refusal was certainly not beyond the realms of possibility.

With a glance at the ceiling, he made his way to Cordelia's private sitting room on the second floor, feeling like a man condemned. When he reached the door, he paused outside, listening to the sound of a quill scratching on parchment. He drew a deep breath, knowing that this interview could have serious consequences for his and Hermione's future. With a silent reminder to keep a tight rein on his temper, he opened the door.

Cordelia sat at her mahogany bureau, her back to the door, one perfectly manicured hand clutching a quill with which she was scribbling furiously. Severus closed the door gently behind him. He stood motionless, his arms folded across his chest, waiting for her to speak first.

"Why don't you have a seat, Severus," she said icily without turning her head. "I'm sure the discussion we are about to have will be neither pleasant nor brief, so you might do well to take the weight off your feet."

Severus took the armchair nearest her bureau, wincing at the dangerous composure of her voice. He could sense suppressed rage in her tone, and he watched as she continued her writing, wondering if the letter was in any way connected to what she had overheard on her return. The minutes ticked by slowly, and he knew she was deliberately prolonging his agony, making him suffer. He remained quiet, aching to speak, but determined to let her begin the proceedings.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour, she signed her name with a flourish and put her letter inside an envelope. Pushing it to one side, she tossed her quill onto the bureau, splattering the wood with black ink. She laced her hands and turned to face him, her dark blue eyes flashing malevolently.

"I often wondered how you spent your weekends while I was away, Severus," she began. "And now, I know. I never suspected you to be so lacking in taste as to fill my house with your whores."

He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that it was in Hermione's best interests for him to keep his anger under control. "That remark is both ungallant and unjust, Cordelia."

She narrowed her eyes, a taunting smile on her painted face. "There are only a few days left until Christmas, so I decided an early return home was in order to finish my shopping. Little did I know I would walk in on such a touching scene. It was almost worthy of one of those dreadful short stories in Witch Weekly," she sneered.

Severus curled his hands into fists, determined not to be goaded into reacting in anger.

"I'd believed you incapable of love, Severus. You've always seemed so ... How shall I put it? Soulless? But now I find that you're willing to ... What was it you said? Go to the ends of the earth to be with your Potions assistant. Now, isn't that just the sweetest thing I've ever heard?"

"Cordelia," he began with a sigh. "I'm sorry you were witness to such a conversation; I would have spared you that if I'd known you would return so early."

"How charitable of you, Severus," she said, smirking. "Well, I'm afraid I'll have to request that Miss Granger be refused entry to my house from now on. I'm sorry if that's inconvenient for your business, dearest, to say nothing of your little weekend hobby, but I'm sure you understand how it is."

He regarded her, choosing his next words carefully. "Cordelia, I would like to leave Hermione out of this conversation as much as possible. I will concur with your wishes and ensure that she stays clear of this house, but I'd much rather we concentrate on the situation as it pertains to you and me."

"Well, Severus, I'm quite keen to discuss Hermione Granger at the moment, seeing as the suspicions I've had for months now have been proven correct. Tell me, did you fuck her while she was at school? Fancied a go at a schoolgirl?"

It took all of his resolve not to stand, and he itched to draw his wand. "How dare you?" he spat. "I might have been many things, Cordelia, but I never would have taken advantage of a student."

"Well, forgive me for casting such aspersions on your impeccable character, but is it so difficult to imagine? Given how you've taken advantage of your work colleague, your former daughter-in-law ..."

He folded his arms. "Shall we just sling mud, Cordelia? Behave like children? Or shall we try to reach a resolution?"

She glared at him. "And what sort of resolution do you want, Severus? What is it you want of me?"

"In February you will be only six months away from your fiftieth birthday. You know that means you'll never again be subject to the Marriage Law. I think it would be in both our best interests to secure a divorce at that time."

Cordelia uttered a scornful laugh. "I don't think so, Severus. Our arrangement suits me perfectly well, thank you. I've no intention of signing divorce papers any time soon."

"Cordelia," Severus said, "are you honestly trying to tell me you had no intention of seeking a divorce as soon as you turned fifty? What would be the benefit of continuing to live in a marriage of convenience?"

"The law may no longer apply to me when I turn fifty, Severus, but as you're almost four years my junior, I had every intention of staying wed until you reached your fiftieth birthday. I was going to spare you the necessity of marrying again."

He knew she was lying, and he remained silent for a moment, considering how best to continue. "I wish to request a divorce, to become legal on the last day of February," he said calmly.

"Request denied," she spat.

This was going to be a long day, he knew. "On what grounds do you deny my request?"

"On all grounds! On the grounds that I will not turn fifty until August; on the grounds that I'm perfectly happy with our current situation; on the grounds that you could not possibly afford to pay back everything you borrowed to start your business, never mind what I might demand as a divorce settlement."

"You are legally entitled to half of my fortune, Cordelia, and I will offer you that without reservation, in addition to paying back what I borrowed to set up my laboratory. With interest."

"Half of your fortune? I hardly think your meagre sum from the sale of your parents' house could be described as a fortune, Severus."

"I refer to the fortune I've amassed over the past six years. My Potions business has been rather more lucrative than I ever dared to hope it might be; I'm far wealthier than you might imagine."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "I'd need to see proof of that. Besides, I've little use for money. It does not suit me to divorce."

"Cordelia, you will never again be subject to the Marriage Law once you are six months from your fiftieth birthday. What's more, once you turn fifty, you will be free to marry Everard Munroe if that is your wish." He watched in satisfaction as her eyes widened. Although he had referred to her lover before, Everard's name had never been mentioned.

She tapped her nails angrily on the surface of the bureau, her jaw clenched. "I've no idea who you're talking about."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Cordelia, spare me your play-acting. I knew about you and Everard before we married. Half the wizarding world knows about you and Everard Munroe, so do not even attempt to deny it."

Cordelia pursed her lips and regarded him in stony silence.

"You spend almost every weekend in his company, mostly at your cottage in Edinburgh, or at his estate near Aberdeen. You've been seeing him since before Gilbert Nott died. Not only do I have ample evidence to support my allegation, I have numerous witnesses who can verify the fact that you have been lovers for many, many years."

She glared at him. "Moe?" she called, and the little elf appeared before them with a loud crack.

"You is calling, Mistress Cordelia?"

"Strong coffee, if you please, and lots of it," she barked.

Moe gave a nod of her head before disappearing with a click of her fingers.

Cordelia turned from Severus and extracted a number of papers from within the locked drawer of the bureau. She looked through the documents in silence, until Moe returned with a tray of coffee and sandwiches.

"Thank you, Moe," Severus whispered, taking the tray from the elf and setting it on a coffee table.

Cordelia maintained her silence until after Moe had left. Leaning forward to pour the coffee, she said, "Well, Severus, I would very much like to see some of this evidence of which you speak, and I presume you have accounts that can confirm this supposed fortune of yours?"

"Of course, Cordelia," he said, his lip curling in dislike as he met her gaze. "All relevant documents are ready for your perusal."

"Well, bring them here," she said. "I have a copy of our pre-marital agreement, and I have all day to inspect the small print."

He rose from his seat and left the room, resisting the temptation to slam the door behind him. Descending to the basement, he exhaled deeply, finally allowing anger to wash over him. His hands shook as he recalled some of the remarks his wife had made about Hermione. Much as he would like to hex Cordelia to oblivion, the resultant life sentence in Azkaban would not be worth that brief moment of satisfaction.

***

Hermione was grateful that Albus Severus Potter's feeding schedule meant Ginny had to leave the Leaky Cauldron before two o'clock. She had considered cancelling her lunch date with Ginny, but she knew her friend hadn't had many opportunities to get out of the house since Albus's birth, and she just hadn't had the heart to let her down. Anxiety was eating her up, and she knew she should stay out of the house, keep herself occupied with visiting friends or doing some shopping, but she was drained, both physically and emotionally, so she Apparated to the steps of her house as soon as Ginny had returned to Godric's Hollow.

Wondering if she should take a dose of Pepperup Potion, Hermione went in search of a cup of tea. Lance was sitting at the kitchen table, a collection of old black and white wizarding photographs spread out before him.

"Hello, lassie," he said when Hermione entered the room. "I've just made a nice pot of tea."

"Hello, Lance," she said with a tired smile, taking a seat and Summoning a mug from the press. "What are you up to?"

"Just looking through some old photographs," Lance said, smiling at one in his hand. "Look: the day I became a fully qualified Healer."

Hermione took the photograph from him and gasped. The young man in the picture, dressed in traditional St. Mungo's robes, was incredibly handsome. He couldn't have been much older than she was now, and his hair was dark brown and reached his shoulders. His face was clean-shaven, his jaw was strong and chiselled, and even through his robes it was evident that he was of muscular build, despite his short stature.

Lance smiled across the table. "I was about your age in that picture."

"You were so good-looking!" Hermione exclaimed. "I bet you broke a few hearts in your time."

Lance chuckled. "Here's one of a whole gang of us up in Scotland when I was about fifty. One of Newt Scamander's field trips. Great fun!"

Hermione reached for the picture and peered at the group of witches and wizards, instantly picking out Albus Dumbledore from the crowd. His lengthy hair was auburn and only barely flecked with grey, but his crooked nose was still recognisable. "Is that you?" Hermione asked, pointing to the smallest man in the picture.

Lance peered through his glasses. "Yes, that's me. Guess who that is standing next to me?"

Hermione squinted at the woman standing next to Lance in the picture, who looked to be in her early thirties. "No!" she gasped. "That's never Minerva McGonagall?"

"The very one!" Lance said.

Hermione grinned at the picture of her former professor, and the Minerva in the photograph smiled and waved. She was without her spectacles, and her hair, which was free of its usual severe bun, was long, dark and glossy.

"Ah, look," Lance said fondly, handing her another. "Theo on his fifth birthday."

She took the photo and smiled at the image of her ex-husband as a young boy. The five-year-old Theo was, even then, long and stringy, standing next to a birthday cake and a pile of wrapped gifts. Beside him, gazing at him with adoration, was Cordelia, and Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest. Cordelia was always well-groomed, but in this picture, her eyes filled with unmistakable love for her son, she was very beautiful.

Lance was holding up another picture. "This is a group shot of all the Slytherin students when Cordelia was Head Girl."

Hermione tore her gaze from the photograph of Theo and took the next picture, instantly recognising Cordelia and a young Narcissa Malfoy. Her gaze moved through the faces until she eventually found Severus, thin and miserable-looking, his lank hair obscuring his face. Many of the other boys were casting admiring looks in Cordelia's direction, and Hermione realised for the first time how many wizards must have envied Severus in his choice of wife. The thought worried her, and she gave a troubled sigh.

Lance frowned at her. "Is something the matter, young lady?"

"It's been quite a weekend." She chewed at a fingernail, wondering if she should tell Lance what had happened. She desperately needed someone to tell her it would all be okay. "Severus is, as we speak, asking Cordelia for a divorce."

Lance thumped the table. "At long bloody last," he said, obviously pleased. "Did he ask you to marry him?"

Hermione instantly coloured. "No, he didn't. But he did say that we would be together, no matter what happens today."

"Wonderful, wonderful," Lance said, clapping his bony hands together.

"Is it really wonderful?" she asked, worried. "Do you really think she'll let him go?"

"Not without a fight," Lance admitted. "But you have until late March before you're forced to remarry, and if Severus gets the ball rolling today, that will give her plenty of time to get over her little hissy-fit."

Hermione jumped as a loud crack echoed through the room, and Moe appeared. The little elf wiped her hands on her apron and made her way to the stove, humming as she went.

"Hello, Moe!" Lance said cheerfully. "Have you been across the road?"

Moe nodded solemnly. "Mistress Cordelia was wanting coffee."

"I see," Lance said. "And how were Severus and Cordelia? Was there much shouting?"

"No shouting," More said. "They is just glaring. Lots of glaring."

Hermione and Lance looked at one another, and Lance started to chuckle.

"Ah, I think Severus could glare for Britain, even on a good day." He patted Hermione on the hand. "Don't worry, lass. It'll all come good in the end."

Hermione dropped her gaze and nodded, wishing she could share his optimism and hoping that the hours would pass quickly until she heard from Severus. It wasn't even three in the afternoon, and it already felt like the longest day of her life.

***

Severus sipped at his coffee while his wife sat across the room from him, records and accounts spread out before her, her reading glasses perched on her nose. He examined her face, which was set in an attitude of annoyance. Her obstinacy was not unexpected.

As she perused the documents, it occurred to him that the outcome was dependent, at least to some extent, on her relationship with Everard Munroe. If she truly loved him and wanted to be with him, this could go well. But if she had grown unhappy with Everard, or if they had grown apart, she would have much more reason to refuse his request for a divorce.

More than two hours had passed since he'd retrieved the documents from the kitchen, and it had already grown dark. Severus lit the candles and lamps around the room, and they were soon bathed in a warm light that did little to dispel the chilly atmosphere in the room. He lit a fire in the grate and poured himself another cup of coffee.

Cordelia eventually raised her gaze from the accounts, and Severus could tell she was impressed by the extent of his wealth.

"I presume one of the Gringott's goblins can be called upon to verify the authenticity of these documents?" she asked.

Severus nodded. "Once my capital had increased to a certain level, I was granted a high-security vault and a financial overseer by the name of Grimbleshank. You may refer to him for verification." He smirked: he could tell Cordelia was trying to appear disinterested.

She tossed the parchment onto the table in mock indifference. "Your money does not really interest me, Severus. I have a settled income for life; I've little need of your money."

"Nevertheless," Severus said patiently, "you cannot deny I have the ability to repay all that I borrowed when first we wed and to offer you, in addition, a handsome divorce settlement."

"In order to offer me a divorce settlement, you would have to persuade me to grant you a divorce, Severus," she said with an artificial smile, "and I've not yet seen or heard anything that would persuade me to give you one."

With a clenched jaw, Severus took a roll of parchment from the bundle on the table. He threw it to Cordelia.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Evidence," Severus said.

"Evidence of what?" she snapped.

"Evidence of your infidelity spanning over the last seven years," he said glad that he could finally confront his wife.

Cordelia glared at him through narrowed eyes for a minute before loosening the ribbon with which the documents were bound. She picked up the first sheet of parchment and frowned as she read.

"A list of supposed liaisons? Times, dates and locations?" she asked with a sneer. "I think you would require something more substantial to back all of this up, Severus."

"If you open that yellow envelope you will find evidence to back up each of the times and dates listed on the first page."

Cordelia uttered a grunt and opened the envelope. She appeared outwardly calm, but Severus could see the tremor in her hands as she withdrew the photographs from the small package.

Her eyes widened as she regarded the first picture. "You spied on me!" she cried. "How dare you invade my privacy? How dare you!" She dropped the photographs onto the table as if she'd been burned.

Severus glanced at the photograph. The one nearest him showed Cordelia smile in greeting as Everard arrived at her cottage in Edinburgh, and then lean forward and kiss him soundly on the lips. It would have been impossible to maintain that the people in the picture were anything other than lovers.

"I've known about you and Everard since before I offered for you, Cordelia. Not once have I insisted you stop seeing him. I've never interfered in your private life, but I thought it wise to collect the evidence in the event that I should require a divorce. You are proving that such a clandestine move was, indeed, a wise one. I have an abundance of information that proves you've been unfaithful, and I could use it in a wizarding court to force you to grant me a divorce."

Cordelia was red-faced with anger. "If you knew about my relationship with Everard before we were married, that suggests you were willing to accept the situation, Severus. And if that was the case, it can hardly amount to grounds for divorce. If you willingly consented to live under such circumstances for seven years, they can hardly constitute a legal reason for separating now."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "In the name of Merlin, Cordelia. There's no reason for us to stay married come February. You will at last be free to be with Everard Munroe, and I will be free to see whom I choose."

"Oh, spare me your artificial concern, Severus. You don't give a damn whether or not I'm happy with Everard. You want a divorce so you can be with Hermione Granger. I'm not stupid; I overheard your conversation this morning, and I particularly liked the bit about how you know me so well, and how you can handle me. Well, this is me proving you wrong, Severus Snape. You don't know me; you have never known me." She thumped on the table. "I refuse to grant you a divorce. I don't care if you leave ... You will be the one who loses face if you chose to leave, so by all means, go and do it. But I absolutely refuse to give you the satisfaction of a divorce."

"If you refuse to grant me a divorce, I'll take my case to the Wizengamot, Cordelia. I will uncover your on-going relationship with Everard; I will summon credible witnesses; and I will drag your name through the mud."

"Why don't you try it, Severus? I'm sure you're well aware that more than one close associate of mine currently resides on the Wizengamot. What's more, the wizard who oversees the Ministry of Magic department dealing with divorce happens to be a close personal friend of mine."

Severus sat back in his chair with a triumphant smirk. Cordelia had led him to the very subject that formed his trump card. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but she seemed determined to make things difficult for him.

"I'm well aware that your friend heads that department at present, Cordelia, and I'm also aware that he was in sole charge, until last year, of the Office for Development and Planning within the Ministry."

For the first time since their debate had commenced some five hours earlier, Cordelia looked genuinely alarmed. "I don't see what that has to do with anything," she said, her dark blue eyes wide.

Severus leaned forward. "Two years ago, you sought permission to magically renovate and enlarge your listed building in Grosvenor Square. When permission was denied you, you quickly sought an introduction to the head of that office...a small, fat Welshman by the name of Zebulum Williams, whom we entertained here, in this house, at a number of your dinner parties."

"We're straying very far from the terms of reference here, Severus ..."

He held up a hand. "I think you'll find my train of thought here entirely relevant," he said calmly. "In order to secure planning permission to alter the building as you desired, you seduced Williams and you were eventually granted the right to make the changes."

Cordelia stared at him, her expression a mixture of distress and fury. "And I suppose you can prove this, can you?"

"Absolutely," Severus said with another smirk. He placed another envelope in the centre of the table. "I have copies of correspondence sent from Williams to you and vice versa, in addition to a number of incriminating photographs."

With trembling fingers, Cordelia reached forward and picked up the thick, brown envelope. She opened it and glanced briefly at the contents. Severus watched her, until she raised eyes filled with wrath to his own.

"You are the most underhand, deceitful, devious man I've ever met in my entire life," she hissed.

Severus uttered a brief, wry laugh. "Under the circumstances, my dear, I would watch whom I call deceitful or devious. I've never used the art of seduction to get planning permission; I've simply used my talents as a spy to ensure I always have a back-up plan."

"You're hardly a saint, Severus. At least I've never been tainted by the Dark Mark."

Severus's eyes narrowed, and his hand flew instinctively to his forearm where he had once been branded.

"And what do you intend to do with your ill-gotten evidence, Severus? Seeing as Zebulum is the one who decides what evidence is or isn't admissible in each divorce case, I don't see what good it can possibly do you."

"I've no intention of showing my little portfolio to Zebulum Williams," he explained. "I can think of a far worthier recipient for my 'ill-gotten evidence', as you call it. I'm sure Everard Munroe would find it riveting."

Cordelia immediately sprang to her feet, and Severus knew by the look on her face that he had been right in his speculation: Everard had not known about her brief tryst with Zebulum Williams.

"How dare you think you can blackmail me," Cordelia snarled, withdrawing her wand from inside her elegant robes.

"I've no wish to blackmail you, Cordelia, but if you're not willing to be reasonable, you leave me with no choice. If you're not willing to grant me a divorce, I will send those photographs of you and Williams to Everard Munroe. He might tolerate your sham of a marriage to me, but I'm sure he would not be pleased to discover your little affair."

Cordelia pointed her wand directly at Severus's chest. "You bastard," she whispered.

Severus shrugged. "Am I worth a sentence in Azkaban?"

She glowered at him, and he could tell she was considering her next move. After a few moments, she lowered her wand, pointing it instead at the pile of photographs and sheets of parchment on the table. Severus stood up and withdrew his own wand.

"Destroying your precious photographs won't get me a jail sentence," Cordelia said, a look of victory in her eyes.

"Move your wand away from those documents ... Now," Severus ordered, his wand pointed at her head. He was no fool: he had made duplicate copies of all the photographs and correspondence, and they sat, untouchable, in his Gringott's vault. But he had not taken such precautions with his financial accounts, and they would take many months to reproduce, perhaps delaying his divorce beyond the time left to Hermione.

"Make me," Cordelia spat. She stood resolute, her wand pointed at the stack of parchment.

Severus stood still, his wand pointed straight at his wife, his mind whirling.

Before either of them could move, the door was thrown open, and Lancelot Mill hobbled in on his cane.

"Well, isn't it fortunate that I decided to drop in to say hello," he said, peering over his spectacles and looking from Severus to his niece.

"Uncle Lance, this is none of your business, and I would like you to leave immediately," Cordelia said, her wand still pointed at the documents, her gaze still fixed on Severus's face.

"Nonsense," Lance replied, sitting himself at the table.

"She's right, Lancelot," Severus said. "This really does not concern you."

"Fiddlesticks!" Lance cried. "This mess involves my niece, my friend, my housemate and a man with a rather nice beard, so it's of great importance to me."

Cordelia frowned. "A man with a nice beard?"

"Everard, you twit," Lance said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

Cordelia gasped. "You know about Everard?"

Lance chuckled. "Everybody knows about Everard. Severus, I wonder if I might have a private word with my niece."

"As you can see, Lance," Severus said. "This really is not the time."

"It's the perfect time," Lance assured him. "What I have to say may be of benefit to you both."

Severus gave an exasperated sigh and stowed his wand inside his robes. "Very well. I'll be in my study."

He made for the door, turning to take a final look at Lance and Cordelia, and as he turned to leave, he discreetly cast an amplification spell.

He had just closed the door to his study when Lance's magically enhanced voice came from the floor above.

"Cordelia, sit down; I beg of you."

Severus heard Cordelia utter a deep sigh and retake her seat.

"Be careful what you say, Lancelot Mill," Cordelia said, her voice strained. "This is my house, and I will not be blackmailed or bullied."

"Cordelia," Lance said in a gentle tone, "I love you."

"Stop it, Uncle Lance."

"No, my girl, I mean it. I love you very much."

"What are you playing at?" Cordelia snapped.

"I've loved you since the very first moment I held you in my arms when you were a baby, yet I've stood by and watched you make a series of poor decisions, spurred on, no doubt, by the lack of affection shown you by my idiot brother, your father. As a result of those decisions, you've been kept from knowing true joy with the only man you've ever loved, and you've compounded your own misery by refusing to allow yourself to be happy."

Severus winced, sure Lance's scheme would not work with his wife.

"What do you mean, I haven't allowed myself to be happy?" Cordelia asked. "What choice have I ever had?"

"Are we being honest at last?" Lance asked. "Are we having the first honest conversation we've had since you were eight years old?"

"Fine, here's some honesty, Lance: I was seduced at the age of eighteen by a man I believed loved me with all his heart, on the orders of a dark wizard; I had to watch my only son suffer because his father was a Death Eater, and when I eventually met someone I loved and was freed from my first husband my chance at happiness was ruined by the Marriage Law."

Cordelia fell silent for a moment, and Severus held his breath.

"I married Severus because I believed the marriage would benefit us both. It did, but it still hurt that he never wanted me. I know that I draw the admiring gaze of many wizards, Uncle Lance, but my own husband was never one of them. Yes, I know I never loved him either, but I haven't enjoyed watching him fall for a younger girl who was once my daughter-in-law. I owe him nothing. I don't see why I should grant him a divorce, and I presume that's why you are here, Lance, to try to talk me into letting him go. Well, it won't work!"

"Cordelia, my love, stop focusing on everybody else. Forget them all for a moment and let's focus on you. Do you love Everard Munroe?"

"Damn it, Lance, this is none of your business!" Cordelia hissed.

"Do. You. Love. Him?" Lance repeated.

Severus heard Cordelia sigh again.

"Yes, I love him."

"Does he love you?"

There was a pause, and then Cordelia said. "Yes, he does. He's the only person in my life of whose love I've ever truly felt assured."

"Then why don't you grant yourself the freedom to be with the man you love?" Lance asked desperately.

Cordelia slapped the table with the palm of her hand. "It's not that simple, Lance!"

"Yes, it is!" he insisted. "It really is that simple, Cordelia. You turn fifty next August. This time next year you'll be free to be with the man you love, without having to hide yourselves away. You can be happy, truly happy, for the first time since you were a child!"

Cordelia stayed silent.

"You deserve to be happy, Cordelia. Everard is a good man, and you'll be very happy together. But don't cut off your nose to spite your face. Don't hang on to Severus just so you can make him suffer. He's a good man, too. He deserves to be happy."

Cordelia gave a laugh of disbelief. "He's been seeing my former daughter-in-law behind my back for months! You think he deserves to ride off into the sunset with her?"

"What does it matter?" Lance asked, becoming impatient. "You love Everard; Severus loves Hermione. You have the happiness of four different people in the palm of your hand, Cordelia. Do the right thing, girl. Let yourself live. Let Severus go!"

Silence fell again for a minute.

"I want to live to see you happy," Lance continued quietly. "I want to see you able to walk down the street, hand-in-hand with Everard Munroe with a smile on your face, and you can only guarantee that happens by granting Severus a divorce. If you don't want to do it for him, do it for yourself, Cordelia."

Cordelia gave a soft laugh. "Lancelot Mill, you are an impossibly nosey old busybody."

"Yes, I know I am. But the last thing I will say is this: Your life has been marked out by poor decisions that have made you unhappy. Don't hang on to Severus out of jealousy and add it to the list of disastrous choices you have made. Let everyone concerned be happy, my dear."

Severus heard a chair scrape along the ground, followed by the unmistakable clatter of Lance's cane.

"I'm going home now. Give your old uncle a hug."

Severus quickly removed the amplification spell with a flick of his wand, and two minutes later, there was a knock on the door of his study. He opened it and found Lance on the other side.

Lance poked him in the chest with his cane. "I saw you cast your amplification spell, you nasty old spy." He sounded annoyed, but his eyes were twinkling.

"Guilty as charged," Severus muttered.

"Give her a few minutes to think about what I said," Lance said, turning his back and heading for the stairs, "and then go and talk to her. Calmly, maturely, and without resorting to blackmail."

Severus watched the old man go with a frown, wondering if Lance's talk of love and happiness might possibly have succeeded where his own approach of demands and threats had so obviously failed.

***

Hermione woke and opened one eye, peering at her alarm clock. It was only six in the evening, and she hadn't meant to fall asleep. She sat up, reached for her wand and lit the room with a gentle flick, feeling unwell. With a frown she raised her hand to her forehead: her skin felt cool, but she Summoned her Muggle thermometer just to be sure.

Popping the thermometer into her mouth, she tried to concentrate on her book, but found reading the small print nauseating. She withdrew the thermometer after a few minutes: no, her temperature appeared to be perfectly normal. There was no explanation for her flu-like fatigue. She had no temperature; no sore throat; no headache. Just a vague feeling of illness and a lack of energy.

She plumped up her pillow and rolled onto her side, putting it down to stress and overwork. The calendar on her dressing table caught her eye, and she groaned at the reminder that there were only four days left until Christmas. Time was passing much too quickly, and she was about to embark on making a mental list of all the gifts she had still to purchase, when something occurred to her.

She sprang from her bed and grabbed the calendar. Frantically, she flicked back to the previous month, where she had placed a ring around the first of November. Closing her eyes, she counted in her head. Four weeks from the first of November would have been the twenty-ninth, but glancing again at the calendar, she saw that she'd made no such pencil-mark on that date.

With a mounting sense of panic, she realised that her period was weeks overdue. Her cycle had always been regular...sure, she'd occasionally been a few days late, but never by more than a week. And certainly never three weeks.

Her hands shaking, she put the calendar back on the dressing table and walked numbly to the bed, sitting on the edge, accepting that there could be an obvious explanation for her odd symptoms. But how could this be? She'd been careful about casting contraceptive spells, and she couldn't recall a single occasion when she might have forgotten. Although, she had to admit, she'd been distracted over the last few months. On many occasions, she'd lain awake for hours after she and Severus had made love, wondering what would become of them, what he was feeling. Was it so difficult to imagine that she might have forgotten the spell?

She heard Lance's cane on the floor outside and dived, still shaking, beneath the covers of her bed. She loved the old man dearly, but she was in no fit state to talk to him, and she wanted to be alone.

He tapped on her bedroom door. "Are you awake, lassie?"

She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn't peep around the door.

He knocked again. "Hermione? Are you there?"

She remained silent, and, after a minute or two, she heard him walk away. Clutching the quilt around her, she tried to breathe deeply, staring at the calendar on the dressing table, her mind in turmoil.

***

Severus gingerly opened the door to Cordelia's room. She was seated at the table, exactly where he had left her, staring at the fireplace, apparently lost in thought. He thought she looked calmer, and the documents remained untouched at the centre of the table. He took the seat opposite her, unsure of how to begin.

"Why did you offer for me, Severus, all those years ago?" she asked, raising her dark gaze to his.

He arched an eyebrow. "Because I wished to stay in Britain. Unhappy as I've been here, at times, it was preferable to making a new start abroad. That day when we met at Westminster Abbey, I felt certain you were the solution to my problem, and after I'd done a little research and found out about Everard, who is a pure-blood, I realised you also stood to gain from such a marriage."

"I can't believe you knew about Everard, yet you were still willing to go ahead with the marriage," she said.

"It did not bother me, Cordelia. Neither of us was marrying for love; it levelled the playing field, in a way."

She stared at the fire again for a moment, before saying, "I wish I'd known. All these years...the lies, the secrecy. Why weren't we just honest from the start?"

Severus gave a gentle laugh. "A lifetime of habit, perhaps. A Slytherin pair, through and through."

She smiled. "Everard is a Gryffindor."

He inclined his head, resisting the temptation to mention that Hermione, too, was a Gryffindor.

Cordelia looked at him and laughed. "Go on, Severus, you can say it: As is Hermione."

He gave her a confused, uncertain smile. "As is Hermione," he murmured.

She sat back in her chair and sighed. "It hurt that you didn't desire me, Severus. Out of necessity, we consummated our marriage, and you didn't want me."

He had not expected the conversation to take this turn. "I knew you were in love with another man, Cordelia. You know you are an attractive, intelligent, desirable woman, but I could never have desired a woman I knew to be involved with another man."

She gazed at him. "Is it true that Hermione saved your life, when you were grievously wounded during the final battle?"

Severus tried to disguise his shock. "How did you know?"

"Narcissa had her suspicions; she suspected it was Hermione or Harry Potter who came to your rescue that night." She regarded him closely. "Is it one of the reasons you love her?"

Severus gave an ironic laugh. "Quite the contrary: for a very long time, it was one of many reasons I had for disliking her."

Cordelia frowned. "But, oh, how things have changed."

Severus mirrored her frown, aware that the next few moments of their conversation were vital. "Things have changed, Cordelia, that cannot be denied, but this day was always going to come. There was always going to come that time when you neared your fiftieth birthday and would at last be free of the confines of the Marriage Law."

She looked away from him and stared at the flames in the grate once more. Seconds passed, and Severus held his silence, wary of saying the wrong thing.

"I was grateful when you offered for my hand, Severus," she said finally. "I had always been fond of you at Hogwarts, and I was grateful for kindness to Theo while he was your student. Everard could not have left the country when the law came into effect: his parents are elderly, and he could not have abandoned them. You provided me with an opportunity of staying in Britain to oversee my son's education, remaining with my family, and continuing to live within Apparition distance of Everard's estate." She sighed and looked at Severus with an expression of regret. "We lived together so amicably for many years, Severus. Where did it all go wrong?"

Severus leaned forward, his hands clasped. "I was also grateful for your acceptance of my offer, Cordelia. I've always been antisocial, and you spared me the agony of having to make new contacts abroad. More importantly, you enabled me to start what has become a lucrative business. But you must believe me when I say that I never meant to become involved with Hermione Granger. Even when it became obvious that we had feelings for one another, I resisted the temptation to act upon those feelings for some time. It was never my intention to cause you hurt or embarrassment."

She looked at him intently, and he held her gaze. After a long moment, she said quietly, "I have one condition to ask of you, Severus: I would ask that you and Hermione not live across the square. I know she owns her half of the house, but she and Lance will have to reach some kind of financial agreement in that regard. Perhaps it is unforgiving of me, but I would not relish the thought of my ex-husband and his lover living across the road from me."

Severus nodded, his heart-rate quickening, hardly daring to believe he might be on the verge of securing a divorce. "I will fully concur with your request. It seems perfectly reasonable to me."

Cordelia gave him a small, satisfied smile and pulled a length of parchment from the pile of documents in the centre of the table. "In that case, Severus Snape, I am willing to grant you a divorce."

He resisted the urge to smile or to rise from his seat simply nodded instead. "Thank you, Cordelia. I hope it may benefit us both, and you will have my eternal gratitude."

He watched, his heart thumping in joy, as she Summoned her quill from the bureau and read through the document. She paused at the blank space where the date of divorce was yet to be added. She raised her eyes to look at him.

"Is the twenty-third of February agreeable to you?" she asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Certainly."

She looked at the document, frowning, and chewed the end of her quill. "Actually, Severus, I can do better than that. Would you be available to accompany me to the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning?"

He frowned. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly resolute. "Why wait? Let's get this thing over with and finalise the divorce tomorrow morning. Will that give you enough time to pack your belongings?"

"But ..." He was almost lost for words. "But you won't turn fifty until August. If we divorce now, the six-month period of grace will end two months before your birthday; you would become subject to the law again."

Cordelia shrugged. "Two months is not such a very long time. I have enough friends at the Ministry to enable me to pull a few strings. And if that doesn't work, I can reside in France until I turn fifty."

Severus gazed at her in disbelief.

Cordelia laughed. "Severus Snape's cutting wit stopped in its tracks. Who'd have thought?"

"You're certain an immediate divorce will not cause you untold complications?" he asked, unable to take in what was happening.

She shook her head. "It's nothing I can't deal with." She scribbled the date and her signature on the parchment, pushing it across the table to him when she had finished. "Now, all that's required is your signature, Severus."

He accepted the quill and the document from her, almost giddy with relief. He was on the precipice of becoming a free man once again.

***

Hermione re-read the instructions on page eighty-seven of Diagnostic Spells. Her hands trembling, she reached for her wand and pointed it at her abdomen. The most confusing thing of all was that she had no idea whether she wanted the result to be positive or negative. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the incantation in the book, and finally whispered it aloud.

Her heart thumping painfully in her chest, she opened her eyes to find a glowing white circle hovering in the air by the tip of her wand.

Raising her hands to her face, she slid from the bed to the carpeted floor of her bedroom, tears already flowing.

She was pregnant.