Peace Never Lasts

Disclaimer: see first chapter.

Thanks so much to Dacian Goddess for her time and her patience.

Shopping with Ginny and Tonks should be reimbursed by the social security. We have so much fun making Ginny try on more and more titillating dresses. Tonks doesn't have scruples about wearing plunging necklines and skin-tight sheath dresses either, but then it'd be a shame for her to wear potato sacks with that body of hers (must be the advantage of Auror training). Both of them convince me to get something nice as well, and I come out of the shop with a brand new dress, a bit sexier than what I'm accustomed to. Besides, it's said that curves are favoured again, even though I have doubts about it. Anyway, I feel like a new woman after the crazy week I've had at work. Severus didn't help with his advances, and I had to turn him down three times this week. What do you want, I wasn't in the mood to fool around. But let's not think of that right now.

I'm really glad to be reconciled with Ginny. She now works at Gringotts where she holds the same job as her brother: curse breaker. At least she doesn't resent my marrying Snape. "Who could say something against a married couple who've had a ninety percent rate?" were her very words. And one never knows, I could have the need for a friendly acquaintance at the wizarding bank one day.

The next day is a Sunday. I shut myself away in my office for nearly the whole day with Dobby and Winky to prepare slogans, posters, speeches, etc. for the meeting. What a tedious afternoon! Nevertheless, I realise something: Dobby and Winky are much more ingenious than they seem to be. Their ideas often reveal themselves to be excellent, if sometimes a bit eccentric, like their suggestion to leave mouse traps at the reception for the elves who would feel guilty about attending the meeting and who would want to punish themselves. I understand something else as well, something even more important: not only do the elves have the right to be free, but they must learn how to be free. This can be done only by practicing freedom, even if they fail several times before they succeed; a bit like a child who learns how to walk and falls down several times before being able to stand without a prop. Therefore, I must quit S.P.E.W., at least formally, and let the elves take care of it. I can always stay as the movement's godmother, its counsellor. House-elves leading a freedom organisation! That could shake the obsolete foundations of the wizarding world.

Once the elves are gone, I leave my office with the intent to brew myself a tea and to make some snacks. I've barely set a foot on the landing than Severus stands in front of me and thrusts a phial of essential oils under my nose. And to say that he so easily reproaches others for their lack of subtlety.

"I thought you might be in need of relaxation after all that time you've spent with those two whining creatures. What about a massage?" he says silkily.

"Dobby and Winky aren't whining creatures," I protest.

Being a wizard doesn't authorise him to gratuitously belittle the other magical creatures! However caught in my indignation I am, I perceive Severus's proposal for help. Hmm... If there's one thing that I know, it's that Severus Snape never does anything in the best interest of his neighbour...as far as he considers the others as his neighbours...if he doesn't find his own interest in it. I also imagine that he won't let me refuse him a fourth time this week. Besides, my back muscles are a bit stiff.

"All right. But you'll cease to denigrate my friends."

He casts a mocking smile at me and then drags me to our bedroom. This is the day when I find out that I'm starting to play Severus rather well: when he asks that I massage him in turn, I make him apathetic, voiceless, and nearly tender. Let's say that with any other man, I would have spoken of tenderness. I'd rather speak of going soft when it comes to my husband. The man can't resist a few well-placed strokes on his spine, so much so that he leaves the dominant position to me when we make love, and I have to do all the work. However, I must admit that this interlude has relaxed me greatly. Thinking of the heavy programme that's ahead of me in the coming days, I think I'm going to use Severus's talents a bit more. If I must have a husband, I might as well put him to good use.

The next two weeks were more intense and stressful than revising for my exams at Hogwarts. Thank heaven, Molly didn't ask me for help in preparing Ginny and Harry's engagement party. I needed time to confirm the booking of the hall for the meeting, to order the posters, programmes, flyers, petits fours, drinks, etc. I've also planned a press conference for June fourteenth, all the while putting the finishing touches to my first important case at Nimbus. It must be ready for June fifteenth, for it is about a trial that will take place on June nineteenth. Ah, yes, I'm supposed to sleep as well.

Here comes the moment to go to the Burrow. I take a few minutes to contemplate the last two weeks. I think I can be satisfied. I managed a timely return of my case to Mr Acidoton, and he complimented me abundantly on the quality of my work. To my further satisfaction, everything's ready for the meeting. Even Rita Skeeter couldn't spoil my press conference in spite of her attempts at bringing up questions about my marriage rather than about the changes I'm trying to introduce into society. Now, it's time for a bit of fun.

Let's make it clear that the sole and only reason why I'm attending this farce of an engagement party is to annoy as many persons as possible...I'm killing several birds with one stone. What other reason would I have to enter that... building which defies every law of nature and magic? Even Hermione and I look better, and that's saying something. It's true that she's wearing a dress that hugs her feminine forms rather tightly and shows...too well, to my mind...the curves that are mine, er, hers. Contrary to me, my spouse isn't built like a plank, and that's all the better.

The tables and the chairs are settled outside. I sigh. Don't they know that we are in Great Britain, and the nights here are not hot, whatever the moment of the year? Potter and Miss Weasley come to meet us while we're approaching a group of people. Miss Weasley's dress is positively obscene. I am surprised that Molly has let her wear it, and I thank the gods that Hermione has more sense than that when it comes to dressing.

"Hermione!" they exclaim. "We're so happy to see you."

They're a breath away from bumping into each other to be the first to greet her. I notice they don't express their satisfaction at seeing me. To know that they'd like me to be elsewhere is worth being subjected to this abominable party.

"Me too. I'm happy to be here."

Hermione is radiant and hugs them back briefly before taking my arm again, as fitting with the conventions. Potter frowns at the gesture...he obviously doesn't like it...but wisely abstains from commenting. Instead, he looks at me.

"Good evening, sir. Welcome at the Burrow for my engagement party. The Minister hasn't arrived yet, but I'll count on you to keep him company."

He has the nerve to add a smirk to his proposition. I'm willing to annoy the Minister with my presence tonight, which doesn't mean that I'm willing to bear his company more than a moment. It wouldn't do to give him a good reason to send me back to Azkaban by hexing him after two minutes of conversation only.

"Are you that brave, Potter, that you don't even fear for your engagement to be spoiled by a duel?"

He laughs!

"Come on, sir. Scrimgeour may have been an Auror, but he's no match for you in a duel, whether it's a verbal or wand duel."

"I'm absolutely impervious to flattery, Potter. Save your idiotic remarks for yourself in future."

My tone is slightly menacing, which Hermione has noticed, for she squeezes my arm lightly to prevent me from stepping out of bounds. As I'm keen on keeping Azkaban in its status as a bad memory not to be revisited, I hold back.

"Perhaps it'd be better if you didn't neglect your other guests, Potter."

"Certainly, sir," he answers, looking satisfied for having irritated me. Then, he turns around and joins Lupin and Tonks. Miss Weasley follows him, but she casts inquisitive eyes at me first, as if she was wondering why I didn't hex her future spouse. Hermione sighs while we slowly head towards Arthur and Molly.

"Had I known that you'd be ready to hex people within thirty seconds to your arrival, I'd have preferred that you stayed at home. We could have come up with an excuse for your not showing here."

"On the contrary. I think I will enjoy myself tonight."

"By the way, what is it with that story about keeping company to Scrimgeour?"

I succinctly tell her what happened the day Potter came to my laboratory with Miss Weasley, and George Weasley's suggestion to taunt Scrimgeour with my being here.

"Good evening, Severus. Good evening, Hermione."

Arthur Weasley greets us. Molly has moved away to chat with the not-so-new-anymore wife of her eldest son and left her husband alone to take care of us. A glass of wine, a few petit fours and even fewer platitudes, and he leaves us. We're all alone in the middle of the throng that's invading the garden. Hermione smiles at me apologetically and goes to speak with Tonks, who's been left by Lupin in favour of... transforming. It's the last day of the full moon today. I bet Potter didn't even think to watch the calendar before he set the date for this "small" party. I wonder if I could slip away into a corner unnoticed and read, all the more since Hagrid has just arrived. In spite of the (fake) revelations of my trial, he's still holding a grudge against me for killing Dumbledore. When he looks at me, his body language screams his hatred for me for whoever is willing to listen to it. Knowing how strong the half-giant is, I choose to retreat.

Two hours later, I'm seriously thinking of going back home. I'm sitting at the table between Hermione and Fleur Weasley; Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks are in front of me. I've had more than enough of the debate about the freedom of living as a couple without depending on the YLC (which is the choice of the werewolf and the Metamorphmagus), or whether Geneamorology is reliable, or if there's an advantage to having one's windows facing south rather than west, or if certain Muggle techniques for hanging bookshelves against walls are better than the wizarding ones. The twins choose that moment to announce, using the Sonorus Spell, that it's time to gather to one side of the garden to admire the fireworks they've prepared for this occasion.

The ebb and flow of the participants brings me near Rufus Scrimgeour, who arrived after the starter had been served.

"Minister," is the only greeting he'll get from me.

"Snape," he answers neutrally.

Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, specially created for the occasion, illuminate the sky, and for a while, the noise of the rockets fills my ears. Then, nonchalantly, without turning to me, his eyes still riveted to the profusion of colour of the fireworks, Scrimgeour starts speaking to me.

"Arthur told me your wife has found a job, Snape?"

Where is he going?

"True."

"In view of the nature of her job, I suppose that she earns enough for the both of you."

I don't answer; I'm too busy thinking about the implications of what he's saying to me.

"Do you know that an income scale was included in the Decree 00/25 of February nineteenth, 2000? The former Death Eaters who have been authorised to work with the substances cited in the Decree for Family Responsibility must prove each December that their family's resources don't exceed four hundred Galleons for a childless couple. Be careful, Mr. Snape; you could find yourself unemployed come January. Unless, of course, your family were to expand."

I am speechless. I will have to open a bank account in Switzerland, but the only income I'll be able to transfer there without risking too much would be the commission on sales. The salaries can't be transferred abroad discreetly. I'm not keen on Hermione leaving her job, either. Heaven only knows what she could come up with if she were forced to idleness. My mind comes to the only logical conclusion: to expand my family is the solution. Besides, that twit Scrimgeour...who thought he was taunting me...has just given me time to make sure that Hermione will be pregnant for more than three months at the end of December. There's another advantage to the situation: Hermione will not be able to invoke infertility as a cause for divorce. Besides, I'll entrust her with the care of the child.

For now, I take the time to check Scrimgeour's statements as soon as we go back home, even if it's one a.m. I reread attentively the documents I have about that damned decree. That devil was right: I could only keep my current job if I have a child. That, or by asking the twins to lower my salary....

As early as Monday night, I'll put my plan into motion. I know she will come back late from work because of the trial. She'll be tired and edgy. I will propose her a full body massage to relax her (she can't resist that kind of offer), and I'll make essential oils enhanced with fertility potion soak into her skin. Then, I'll make love to her and, to ensure my plan will succeed, my sex will be coated with that same potion. No contraceptive means will be able to prevent conception; that's why I always saw to it that Bellatrix never found the recipe. I'll think later, if ever, about paternity.