Reactions

Disclaimer: see first chapter

This chapter has been reread by my marvelous beta, Dacian Goddess.

When we leave Mr. Minutes's office, we're already in the middle of the afternoon, and Diagon Alley is swarming with people. I was going to propose that each of us go their own way...no need to be burdened with the other's presence...when we run into Molly and Arthur Weasley. Their arms are loaded with parcels, which informs me of their reason for being in London today. Uneasy smiles appear on their faces.

"Hermione! What a nice surprise! Hello, Severus! Fred and George told us the good news. Congratulations!"

Molly Weasley's greetings lack sincerity. Obviously, my intended shares the opinion, for she answers rather stiffly, "Hello, Mr and Mrs Weasley. Thank you for your congratulations."

It is very pleasurable to witness their uneasiness, and in order to increase it, I smirk. Arthur carries on the conversation in a tone that sounds a bit forced. "We're so sorry that you're not compatible with Ron, but know that you'll always be welcome at our home, Hermione." He adds, as if he'd just noticed that he's made a blunder, which is the case, "And you too, Severus, it goes without saying."

I slide a "protective" arm over Hermione's shoulders and bring her near me. Strangely, she does nothing to escape my embrace. I wonder what it means.

"Thank you, Arthur."

Of course, I have no intention to positively answer such a vague invitation, but Hermione feels obliged to add, "By the way, it's a stroke of good luck that we met you today. I was going to send you and the rest of your family an invitation for our wedding. It'll be on March 18th at ten a.m. at the Ministry. It'd please us if you were to attend it."

What about our agreement for a small ceremony? If all the Weasleys show their faces that day, we'll need no less than Westminster Abbey to accommodate the guests. However, the greenish complexion that takes possession of Arthur and Molly's skin is worth the inconvenience.

"It's very nice of you, Hermione, to think of us," Molly manages to articulate. "We'll be there, but I can't vouch for the others."

"No problem. That said, Severus and I still have things to do. Good bye."

She grabs my arm and drags me away. When we're at a reasonable distance, I turn to her.

"Do tell, Hermione, what made you invite the Weasley clique?"

Her face, as red as a brazen fire, expresses pain and anger, with a touch of hate.

"They're all hypocrites," she spits, her voice laced with venom that would have made a viper proud. "They were so glad that Ron and I were together. We were such a 'lovely couple'. Their approval was just hot air. They all bowed to moronic tests. They let their lives be dictated by statistics! That's insane. Let them come and see the result of their revered statistics!"

Even after I've fooled the wizarding world and convinced people that I was on the good side (meaning the winning one), I've remained unpopular. She wants the Weasleys to see what they've missed by not taking her into their family so they'd feel remorse for having left her at the mercy of predators like me. I must admit that I'm impressed by the amplitude of her rancour and the subtlety of her retaliation. Nothing could be worse for those Dumbledore worshippers. I kiss her on her cheek before I Apparate back home. I've hardly started to walk towards my house when I hear the characteristic noise of someone Apparating behind me.

"Severus, wait!"

What does she want?

"We must visit my parents," she says, panting.

I'm glad that my back is turned to her, for my eyes have taken the shape of flying saucepans. She carries on, "What if we went tomorrow afternoon? The sooner it's done, the sooner this chore will be behind us."

I sigh theatrically while turning to look at her.

"Agreed. I'll fetch you at three p.m. Now, good bye. A potion's waiting for me."

"Ah, er, very well. See you tomorrow."

And she literally disappears from my sight. At last.

My article was published yesterday and already people have reacted to it. If I'm to believe the three Howlers in my mail this morning, my opposition to slavery doesn't have unanimous support in the wizarding community. It doesn't matter; Rome wasn't built in one day after all.

I called my parents to inform them of our afternoon visit. I really have a bad feeling about this. Well, the die is cast. I take my "fiancé's" arm...I have a hard time getting accustomed to the word...and I Apparate the both of us in the garden of my parents' suburban house, where I grew up. We come into the house through the back door and find my mother in the kitchen.

"Hermione, my dear! How are you?"

She kisses me warmly enough and then turns to Severus.

"You must be Severus?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Nice to meet you."

He eyes disdainfully the hand that she extends in his direction and slowly, reluctantly, half-heartedly grabs it before he draws his own hand back quickly. The movement didn't escape my mother's notice, nor my father's, who has just joined us. He sizes Severus Snape up, from head to toe, like a customer at a slave market. He notes his black hair, shiny with sebum, his corpse-like complexion, and holds his black, spark-less eyes. Disapproval can be read on his face, but he says nothing about it.

"Severus Snape?"

Said Severus Snape doesn't even move an eyebrow. I imagine he didn't like the way my father looked at him. I wonder why he didn't draw his wand. He probably hasn't the fondest memories of Azkaban.

"Himself."

"Let's go into the lounge."

We all follow my father and settle into the armchairs. My parents remain on their guard. I can understand them. They know that my intended has killed in cold blood in the past. I decide to speak, to alleviate the tension somewhat.

"Dad, Mum, as I already told you, our wedding will take place on March 18th, at the Ministry of Magic. We... I would like you to be present."

"Of course, my dear. Nothing in the world could prevent us from attending," my mother answers.

"I'll take care of the necessary authorisations so that you'll be able to enter the Ministry building. Do you think you could send individual announcements to the family?"

My mother nods and then proposes us tea. We all accept in the hope it will make this moment less awkward. Of course it doesn't work, and after a few platitudes..."How shall we dress?" or "You'll let us know your new address."...we leave at last. Our stay only lasts half an hour. Severus leaves me as suddenly as yesterday, without even kissing me on my cheek.

I meticulously wash my hand as soon as I get back home. I really made a great effort by stepping foot in a house inhabited by Muggles. It was frankly nauseating. How did such people, such petit bourgeois people, manage to produce a witch? This is beyond my understanding.

I carry on with my life after that. At most I tidy the house up a little and make room for Hermione's things in the cupboards. I want to make sure that she understands that I am the one to choose where she puts her things. I also transform a room into an office, as per our contract.

She writes to me in the course of the week to inform me that she's invited most members of the Order of the Phoenix and...horror...Potter. I am persuaded that this is part of her plan to make me abandon the idea of marrying her, but I've lived through worse things, so her attempts do not deter me in the slightest. Besides, the bans had been published on Wednesday. As early as Thursday, the news made the front page of the Prophet. Admittedly, it was only a line referring to an inside page, but it was enough to get my doorstep flooded with mail and to be plagued with interview requests.

The articles published by Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet on the subject were pathetic. They used every known cliché to speak of our situation: how love has saved the bitter heart of the ex-Death Eater; redemption for the one who had to kill his best friend; the Gryffindor princess who succumbs to the mysterious charms of the dangerous, tender-hearted man (the one who has written this crap had enough sense to publish it anonymously); our ninety percent compatibility rate at the YLC tests. I Flooed Hermione about it, and we agreed not to answer and to carry on our lives as if nothing was different.

My employers are delighted: their shop hasn't emptied since those articles made the newspapers. Souls in quest of romanticism, who want nothing less than a signed photograph of the dark-eyed hero, leave with Canary Creams, Daydream Charms, or a trinket they've been assured my hands had been on. I am impatient for the marriage to take place and to be over with this farce.

After an infernal week during which I had to navigate through the Howlers sent to the "whore who sleeps with Voldemort's servants" (that was the general idea of such "letters"), agitated young girls who wanted me to give them tips about how to gain the attention of a noble and romantic hero and reporters more interested in my love life than in my opinions, I open my door for Harry Potter on this Sunday afternoon. He hasn't said he was coming, but I don't mind. I'm so glad to see him.

"Harry! What a nice surprise. Come in."

"How are you? I've received your invitation for the next Saturday, and I wanted to make sure that you were well."

"That's nice of you, Harry."

He updates me on what he's done since we last met, and I make tea for us.

"I also wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what happened with Ron. He's so miserable since you took the tests...."

My answer is scathing.

"He didn't have to submit to the result."

Harry raises his hands in a calming gesture.

"I know, Hermione. Ginny and I took the test as well. Our compatibility rate is seventy percent. I can't imagine what it'd have been like if the result had come out negative. Come to speak of it, I wanted to invite you to our engagement party on June 18th. It's a Saturday."

I sigh inwardly. I know that Harry doesn't want to hurt me, but to be reminded of the failure of my sentimental life while his is a success...that's too much.

"I won't come alone, you know."

"Ah, oh, yes, of course, your... husband... can come too. I wanted you to know that I'll be at your wedding. Nothing in the world could make me miss my best friend's wedding, even if she's marrying someone as disagreeable as Snape. At least, he's an honourable man."

"Thank you, Harry."

His words have me leaning towards leniency with him until he adds, "Is it true that you made ninety percent with Snape? I thought it was a rumour, but the twins said that Snape said it, too."

I sigh, noisily this time.

"It's real."

"What do you find in him?"

Harry is a whisker away from being tossed out of my flat.

"Nothing. He took the tests; his name came out, he wanted to meet me, and he convinced me to accept his proposal. As I can't get everything that I want, I settled for what was available."

"But, surely, you could have found somebody else?"

"Would you have been able to find someone else if things hadn't worked with Ginny?" I yell at him. I can feel my cheeks blushing and tears invading my eyes. I don't want him to know that Snape got me because I can't hold my alcohol. No, nobody will know.

"I accepted Severus Snape's proposal because he's a repentant Death Eater; that should make my future actions for the rights of magical beings credible. I accepted because he's employed and won't sponge off me; because he doesn't want to be in my presence more than strictly necessary, and I happen to think that it suits me. Are these reasons enough to convince you or should I find other ones?"

I can see that Harry is ashamed of his reaction. I can't really blame him for doubting my decision; except for the fact that he helped us win the war, Severus is nothing to him. He isn't likeable.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I... I should have guessed..."

I smile wanly at him.

"It's all right, Harry. We're not going to have a fall out because of Severus, are we?"

He gazes at me for a long while, then nods and smiles back at me.

"You're right, Hermione. You're always the voice of reason. Well, what can I get you as a wedding gift?"

"First things first. Would you accept to stand for me?"

"Of course, Hermione, I'll stand for you. I'll always be there for you. You're my friend."

My morale soars at his words.

"Then, could you get me a job through one of your admirers?"

"You want to work? What about S.P.E.W.?"

"I'll always find time for it, but I need to be financially independent. I don't want Severus to have means to put me under pressure."

"That's twice already that you call him Severus," he teases me kindly.

"Harry! You wouldn't want me to call my future husband 'sir'?"

And like that, we're relaxed. We share a frank and friendly laugh, like when we were at Hogwarts. Harry leaves me a short time later, but not without promising to try and get me an interview with a potential employer.