Retreat

Severus,

Hermione

Severus wanted to wake up, for this nightmare to be over, but it wasn't a nightmare. If you really do love me, don't try to come and see me now. What the fuck kind of reasoning was that?

He half-screamed, half-yelled as he wadded then ripped Hermione's letter, throwing it across the living room, and then reached for the half-empty bottle of whiskey by his chair on top of several dirty dishes. He drank himself into oblivion. This had happened far too many times in the week since Hermione had left him.

Why the fuck, of all the women he could have finally loved, did it have to be her? Why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone easier? Someone who would simply be content to do as they're told? Someone who would recognise that a life of simple contentment is far more than anything most people ever get to have, and who would be grateful for at least having that?

He'd fallen in love with an ungrateful, self-serving, bitch.

Love? Was it really love? He hadn't taken to expounding upon his feelings in flowery poetry, but that ache in his heart – he was young enough, it shouldn't be heart troubles – was something he thought directly correlated to Hermione's absence, her rejection.

He wanted to hunt her down and scream at her for what she'd done to him. He wanted to seek her out and implore her to return home. He wanted to fuck her like he'd never done before. He wanted to hold her and tell her she was safe with him, that he'd help her through this, that he understood, even if he didn't fully.

If he didn't get this straightened out soon, she'd be petitioning the Ministry for an annulment. He drained the last of the bottle. The room was spinning, and he decided halfway across the living room that going upstairs was more trouble than it was worth. He collapsed in front of the fireplace, and stared into the dying embers as unconsciousness took hold.

"Severus..." A familiar voice called to him. The light coming through his closed lids hurt.

"Go. Away." Even half unconscious, the voice of Dumbledore trying to rouse him only made him want to go drink himself back into oblivion.

"Severus, drink this." Dumbledore, ignoring Severus's words, held a phial in front of Severus, stopping short at helping him sit up to drink it. His eyelids stuck together slightly as he tried to open them, and saw the phial, a blurry shape. He didn't question drinking it. At least he'd have a clear head for the dreadful conversation which was about to come. Dumbledore would not be deterred by being told to go away.

"Fine," he gurgled after he'd downed the potion, the blurriness leaving him. "What do you want?" He realised he looked ridiculous, still sprawled on the floor where he'd passed out the night before. Hermione's badly repaired note was clutched in his hand. He stuffed it into a pocket when he noticed Dumbledore's scrutiny of it.

"I want to talk to you. About Hermione, amongst other things... such as Lucius Malfoy."

"Very well," Severus said, getting up and going into the kitchen. He cracked the last two eggs into the skillet and began cooking. Dumbledore followed him into the kitchen. "If you think you can talk me into an annulment, stop right now. Hermione will be back once she's had a break."

"And is there a reason she would want to return?"

Severus glared at Dumbledore. "Whatever it is you've got to say, say it and be done with it."

"As you wish, Severus. Let's get the Lucius issue out of the way. He'll be on trial in the springtime. Until then, he'll be held in Azkaban. You and Hermione will both be called to testify against him. I spoke to Shacklebolt this morning, and Hermione has made it very clear that nothing is to be done with you. I can't say I agree with her. I trusted you to keep Hermione safe, not to take advantage of her. I misjudged you. I thought perhaps that you were..."

"Shut up, Dumbledore. Shut the fuck up and get out of my house. What has happened and will happen between me and Hermione is none of your business. I will only say that she was fully informed before her decision to marry me about what I wanted with her, and I make no apologies for my... desires. Now GET OUT!" he bellowed, throwing the cast-iron skillet at Dumbledore, who easily deflected it with an unspoken spell.

*****

Hermione hugged her mum and dad, then picked up her suitcases and went into King's Cross station. This brought back memories, though it wasn't platform 9 and ¾ she'd be going to – it would be platform six. Her parents didn't know quite what had happened, though she had told them that she and Severus were 'taking a break'. They'd been supportive about her idea to attend university, and Hermione had been happy to discover that her timing was just right (with a deft spell or two to put paperwork in places they needed to be weeks before) for enrolling in the spring term. At the last minute, she'd decided to study Mathematics. It would compliment her Arithmancy studies.

She thought about Severus, too, wondering what he might be doing, if his Potions consignments were working out well. At least the matter of possible criminal charges had been taken care of. The letter she'd written to Severus the previous evening had taken some time. On the one hand, she'd wanted to be firm about the fact that she needed time, but on the other, she couldn't help but want to soften it. Hermione found a seat on the train by the window.

Maybe this wasn't the right thing to be doing now? What if it wasn't? Severus had been there for her to protect her when she needed him, but at the same time, he'd made more than sure he was compensated for that. So, did she still owe him anything? Could things still work between them? Whichever way she came from it, the only thing she kept thinking of was that she wanted a break, time to herself. It was time to stand up and be herself, for herself, not for anyone else. She'd spent enough of her lifetime being and doing for others. What was wrong now with taking the time she needed for herself?

There was a slight lurch as the train began to move, and people scrambled for seats. The seat beside Hermione was filled by a grungy looking man in his thirties, who was engrossed in a book.

Nothing at all was wrong with taking a break for herself, she finally concluded. And so, as the train rolled out of King's Cross Station, she had put some doubts to rest... at least for the moment.

*****

Hermione looked around the campus. Had she more time to prepare, she could have gone for one of the famous colleges, but for now, this would do. No, it wasn't ivy league, but a year here, and she could surely transfer. Once again, she would be studying, learning. The thought of losing herself in studies was appealing, though the preoccupation of unfinished business bothered her.

She'd sort it out by summer, she assured herself as she looked around, trying to figure out where she needed to go. A table was set up, and she stopped for directions to what would be her dorm. The dorm she would be living in was on the other side of the campus, and on the walk there she wished she could cast a charm to lighten her rolling trunk. But it would be fine. The campus was a nice one. Lots of old trees, manicured brown lawns with patches of snow, and she found a bursting sense of ... something she couldn't quite place, while on her way. It made her forget her heavy trunk, and pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile as she looked around.

She was glad for the elevator when she got to the building; her room was on the fourth floor. There were two beds in the dorm room, but no-one had settled in yet, so she chose the bed on the right and sat on it, exhaling a happy sigh. She could see out the window as she leaned against the headboard, and watched the people walking around below. Inside the room, the walls were a dingy sort of white, but it was nothing some good posters and perhaps a hanging or two wouldn't fix. The desk, too, was smallish, but there were two of them.

Hermione wanted to unpack all of a sudden, and flipped open her trunk, starting to empty things onto the bare mattress and sort out what she had. Soon, things all had places, the bed was neatly made, and she was just wondering if she should try to decorate.

"Wow, you must have been here a while," said a voice. Hermione turned, surprised.

"Oh, I just got here... not long ago, I think." The time had flown by, but she must have been there a while. The bed was neatly made with white sheets and an afghan her grandmother had made, her notebooks, pencils, and so forth were neatly arranged on the desk, her clothes were mostly put away in the provided drawers. She was just in the process of stacking her jumpers in the top drawer. "Hullo, I'm Hermione Granger," she said to the young woman.

"Clarice Brunson," she said, giving a friendly smile while heaving her luggage into the room. "I 'spose I'll be your roommate."

Hermione then realised her mistake. She wasn't 'Granger' anymore. She was Snape. Correcting it now would be awkward though. "Right. That's good. This is my first year here."

"My second... well, should have been third, but I took a year off after my first, went on a walkabout." She flashed a wide smile. "I'm back now, ready to take on school again," said Clarice. She was very thin with short, spiky black and blonde hair that had a touch of lime green in spots. When she turned to dump the rumpled contents of one of her bags onto the bed, Hermione noticed a tattoo on her waistline, peeking between her jeans and shirt, a navel ring decorated the front side of her midriff. She might be an interesting roommate.

She was studying Medicine, so they had no lectures together. From the first day of lectures, Hermione threw herself into studying just as she always had at Hogwarts. She wasn't too far behind, her summer studies she'd kept up with meant she was on par with her Muggle classmates. In all, she found it easy. Soon enough, she'd read all her books, and had begun studying ahead, losing track of time in the library until late at night.

A letter arrived after she'd been there about three weeks. Severus's spidery handwriting on the envelope caused her breath to catch. She didn't want to open it, but at least he'd written her instead of just showing up. She finally opened it and read.

Hermione,

He'd obviously spent a lot of time on the letter, Hermione realised. She wondered if the cold tone was on purpose, or was because he was unsure about writing about his feelings in print, or because his feelings had only been brief, perhaps not even genuine.

"Can I pinch a fag?"

"What?" Hermione looked up to see her roommate, closing the letter.

"A cigarette? Have any?"

"I don't smoke," Hermione said, putting the parchment into the bottom drawer of her nightstand.

"I suspected as much," sighed Clarice. Hermione shrugged and grabbed a book... study time. After reading several paragraphs, she looked up again, feeling that Clarice was still watching her. "Um... something else you need?" Hermione asked, discovering her feeling was accurate.

"I'm just wondering, don't you like to do anything but study?"

"Well..." Hermione shrugged. There wasn't really much else she wanted to do. "I enjoy learning," she explained.

"You really should get out some more. Me and some friends are going to see a band play – a friend of a friend is in it and he's supposed to be good. So what do you say?"

Hermione looked down at her History of Mathematics book for a moment. Clarice interrupted her internal deliberation, "Come on, Hermione. All you do is study, and you always make A's, and mid-terms are still two weeks away. You need to have a social life too."

Hermione put down her book. "Yes, you're right. I'll get showered and changed." She rose and went into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and fixed her hair. When she came out, Clarice was all ready to go too, wearing shocking lime-green eye shadow.

*****

It was less than two months of her absence before Severus decided he could no longer bear Hermione being so far away and knowing nothing of what she was doing. He gathered some Muggle clothing and went to see her. Of course, she wouldn't see him. He considered Polyjuice to disguise himself, but the month it would take to brew the stuff was too much; he'd waited enough already.

Once on the campus of her school, he searched the grounds and library regularly. He knew where she lived, but thought it was too risky to simply go up to her door. At this time, he only wanted to gather information so he would go into the next stage of negotiating her return home more fully prepared.

It only took a few days before he saw her in the library, and from that point, he found her schedule was oddly familiar. Her time seemed equally divided between classes, reading in the library while scribbling on papers, and time spent in her dormitory. He wondered once if her professors dreaded her excess verbosity as he had when she was his student. She seemed to have no friends. Perhaps boredom and loneliness would hasten her return.

He decided to write her a letter, charming it to show the proper postal marks. He placed it into her mailbox on the ground floor of the dorm himself.

The next day when he was ready to find an Apparation point home, he saw her leaving her dorm with an odd-looking young woman. She was smiling, and the two were talking, though he was too far away to hear her. He followed. They walked to a bus stop and got on. Severus scowled after the bus. Perhaps a change of tactic was in order.

*****

It was hours later when Hermione and Clarice returned to the dorm. They were both intoxicated. The evening had been a confusion of loud music, drinks, dancing, and strobe lights. Not her style at all, but it had been an experience, for sure. She might even want to try it again... in a few years.

"Shhhh, or we'll wake everyone," Hermione whispered loudly as they stumbled down the corridor after exiting the elevator.

"Not if you'll quit saying 'SHHHH' so loudly, Hermione," Clarice answered, giggling. "But you had fun, right?"

"It was good, yes," Hermione agreed.

Once they'd closed the door to their room, something didn't feel right to Hermione. She turned on the light and looked at her bed for a confused moment, blinking through the blurriness brought on by alcohol. She wished she had a Sobering Potion.

"Hermione, who brought you this?" Clarice asked. A cold tendril crept through Hermione's stomach. A huge bouquet of roses was on her bed. "That's so romantic! Who is it, Hermione? Do you know..." She trailed off as she saw the stunned expression on Hermione's face. "What wrong?"

Hermione walked to the bed, feeling cold inside and flushed hot outside. How dare he? She'd told him to keep away. It couldn't be from anyone else. There was a note attached. It was enough to have received a letter from him the day before; this was much too fast.

Time you've requested, and time I've given you. Do you remember the last time I gave you a rose? Accept these, Hermione, as a sign that I am not inflexible. I've never loved anyone before. Mild affections in the past were nothing like what I learned to feel from you, even if I never expressed it well enough.

Love, Severus

"How sweet!" Clarice had read the note over her shoulder. "Who's Severus? You've never told me about him."

"Someone I'd like to forget," Hermione said through gritted teeth. She took the bundle of roses in her hand, unsure what to do with them. As she stared at them, she was pricked by a thorn. Just like the last time he'd given her a rose. The sharp jolt of pain clearing her intoxication for a moment. She winced as it pierced her ring-finger, then, decision made, she strode to the window, flung it open, and threw the roses out into the chilly, damp night.

Clarice stood in shock, suddenly sensing something about Hermione was not as it had seemed. Hermione sat down on the bed, head in her hands, the slight spin of intoxication multiplied the dread gnawing at her. He had been here in her room, in the life she had wanted to hold separate from anything associated with him.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She looked at Clarice, wondering if she should say anything, but she did seem genuinely concerned. "I'm married," she stated bluntly. "I'm married and I don't want to be. It's complicated..." There was no way to explain anything remotely close to the truth. The Wizarding world's Marriage Law seemed absurd enough in the enclave of the magical, and here in the Muggle world it was downright absurd. "It was something I was rushed into," she explained weakly. "A mistake. It was really supposed to be more of a marriage of convenience than anything else, but we decided to try and make it work, but I don't think there's anything to be done for it." Clarice looked confused. This didn't make any sense even when Hermione tried to explain it in simpler terms.

"So... Severus is your husband?"

"Yes. He used to be my chemistry professor."

"Weird." Clarice's brows were knit, as she seemed lost in thought.

"Tell me about it..." Hermione wondered how much she could say. "But it's over now. I came here to have time away to think, and I enjoy being on my own. The marriage was a sham, even when we were trying to make it work. It wasn't really meant to be."

Clarice nodded, now looking at Hermione intently. "When did you get married?"

"Last November." Clarice's eyes grew larger. "Why do you ask?" Hermione asked.

"Just curious... but, do you know of a boarding school in the highlands?" Clarice looked at her intently. "It's a school for a private community..." Clarice supplied.

"Yes," Hermione answered carefully.

"A private community which has had some unusual marriages of convenience in the last, oh, more than a year or so."

Hermione felt slightly dizzy as she stared at Clarice, blinking. Was she saying what it sounded like she was saying?

Clarice seemed to take her silence for confirmation. "You're a Muggle-born Witch, aren't you?"

"How do you..."

"My cousin is a Muggle-born Witch, too. We grew up together, well, for most of it I was her kid tagalong during summer hols. She's twenty-five now, but she went to that school, and she's told me all about it. She's been in Australia to get away from it... I went with her last year. I haven't ever told a soul, I know how important the secrecy is."

"What's her name?"

"Zoë. She was in house Ravenclaw.. Wait... your chemistry professor, Potions, right? Severus... Oh, fuck... Professor Severus Snape?" Hermione saw from the horrified expression that Clarice had heard all about him.

"Yes, that's the one."

"Shit, is he anything like what I've heard about?"

Hermione nodded. "What a coincidence," she said. They stared at each other a moment. Hermione wondered just how many family and extended family of Witches and Wizards were out there, and the odds at running into one for a moment.

"I'm sorry, I've just heard nightmare stories about him," Clarice said, shaking her head and looking down at her hands. "Zoë said he wasn't too bad to the Ravenclaws, as long as you worked hard in the class. But anyway, I've heard all about the crazy Marriage Law..."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "So, you're married to Professor Snape... From what I've heard of him, I guess I see why you're here now."

Hermione giggled. Then laughed. Soon she was crumpled in a ball, laughing to the point tears were coming out of her eyes. "Hermione?" Clarice came over and put her arm over Hermione's shoulders, and the hysterical laughter changed to hiccoughing sobs. "Shhh... it's okay, Hermione."

"I tried to work it out," Hermione cried. "I tried and tried and everything's been such a mess and I've just been pretending it's okay. I just want to have my own life. I don't hate him, I really don't, I just want my own life!" Clarice continued to rub Hermione's shoulders, waiting for her to settle down. She did finally, sniffling loudly and wiping her face on her coat, which she still hadn't removed.

"God..." she sighed. "Just... it's been a very interesting time, this last year and such."

"Well, if you made it for that long, he's probably not as horrible as I've heard."

Hermione laughed. "Yes and no. I just don't want to try anymore. I've always tried to make everything work, and I did try on this. Severus always seemed like such a deeply horrible person when I was a student. I stuck up for him, he was our teacher and all, but the Marriage Law coming up was a sticky situation, and at the time he was the only safe option for me. I'd almost say he was doing me a favour, but he made damn sure he was repaid in full for that. After a while it seemed like my life wasn't my own anymore. Then some other stuff happened... it's just been a little crazy.

Clarice nodded, sitting back on the bed, ready to listen. Hermione talked. She'd held so much back for so long that it all came out in a long flood. She didn't get into details, but she mentioned what had been the major sticking point of her and Severus's issue, his inability to be flexible, how he'd surprised her at times. She told Clarice things she didn't even know she wanted to talk about.

The sky grew grey with dawn before she finished, and Hermione's voice was tired and cracking. Other than to occasionally make a supportive comment or to ask a brief question for clarity, Clarice said nothing, listening intently.

"So, now he's still determined to get me back. He says he loves me... and I believe him, but I just don't love him, and the thought of being with him for years, much less the rest of my life just seems like I'm falling into a deep, black pit. I have to have my own life!"

*****

Down in the street-lamp illuminated courtyard, a still figure had watched the window, and the gift he'd left fall to the ground. He strode silently to where the bundle lay and picked it up. It was certainly not a good sign that she'd thrown it away. He held them for several long minutes, when he noticed a glint on the end of a thorn... a bead of blood. His face tightened in determination. He looked up to the window. "You are mine," he muttered. "And soon, you'll know it for sure." He strode quickly to a shadowy grove of trees and Disapparated.

He rushed inside once he'd Apparated into the front garden, descending quickly to the basement, where he placed the roses onto the worktable. A fire and a cauldron were quickly readied, and he began scanning the shelves of potions ingredients, bringing an armload of them and depositing them near the cauldron. Next, he examined the rose, and found the thorn with the clotting spot of blood. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

He removed the thorn, and then carefully plucked the petals from it, counting them as he placed them on a nearby parchment. He then poured clear rainwater from a large jug to make the base of the potion, and lost himself in the brewing process until the next morning. It was nearly complete at dawn when he finished the last step, stabbing his finger-pad and watching a single drop of his own blood spatter into the Potion. A cloud of deep maroon steam roiled from the cauldron, engulfing him. Once it had cleared, he carefully poured it into a bottle.

Now all he had to do was get her to drink it.

*****

Hermione was worried following the night of finding the roses left by Severus, but after several weeks of her full schooling schedule, she didn't look over her shoulder quite so often. Severus hadn't written or showed himself. She thought of writing him, but wasn't sure what to say. But one thing was clear now to her: she would not go back to him.

She and Clarice hadn't spoken about the incident any further after that long night, but they had gotten to know each other better. Since Clarice already knew about the Wizarding World, Hermione was able to open up some about her life. She had Clarice in stitches with stories of Fred and George Weasley. Clarice also had some interesting second-hand stories from her cousin's time at Hogwarts. By unspoken agreement, they avoided the topic of Hermione's marriage, Severus Snape, Potions, and other topics that would easily connect.

Spring was in full bloom before she heard from Severus again in the form of a letter.

Dear Hermione,

Severus

She read the letter over again several times. She had come to the conclusion that she wanted to have the marriage annulled. A letter would have to be written to the Ministry of Magic. They should be able to annul it by now; the abusive marriages had been of primary importance, but that should be all taken care of by now.

Still, she didn't feel right not even talking to Severus about it. She would meet with him; at least give him that much. It wouldn't be right to have him find out through a third party. At least he sounded as if he was ready to be reasonable, even if he hoped they would still be together. She decided to write him back.