Chapter 4: Consults, Insults, and Results

Chapter 4

Consults, Insults and Results

Hermione Apparated into the tiny back garden of number twelve, Grimmauld Place with an audible pop and collapsed onto the eroded stone bench set beneath the solitary beech tree. Her hands had been shaking since she had recoiled from the table to which the loudly shouting, derisive Severus Snape had been chained in the visiting room at Azkaban Prison. It had taken all of her resolution to visit him and to make her proposition. She had expected him to scoff, but she had not expected him to rage. She could hold her ground in a contest of wits, but she was not comfortable in the screaming presence of a man of whom she had been in awe since she was eleven years old. Did he hate and despise her so much as that? She had never known!

His appearance alone had been troubling. His always thin frame could only be described now as emaciated, his cheeks sunken, as Sirius' had been when she had first seen him in the Shrieking Shack. She had coached herself to remember Sirius' state after years in Azkaban to prepare for her first sight of Severus Snape since his trial. The accustomed curtains of black hair had been pulled back from Snape's face and bound in a queue – and not at all greasy, oddly enough – and his yellowish teeth had been, strangely, no worse than before. He had not been as physically horrid as she had expected – but at the end of their interview he had radiated such loathing that she felt quite defeated.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, making a concerted effort to calm herself. When she had begun speaking to him, his black eyes had been strangely intent upon her face, and she had thought he was listening to her, evaluating her suggestion. Now, she was merely confused. How had he moved from that quiet, speculative stare to the burst of violence with which he had driven her from the room?

Her mind was suddenly filled with her best memories of Professor Snape. In '92, he had disarmed Gilderoy Lockhart with such violence at their Duelling Club that her schoolgirl fancy had transferred itself for the duration of nearly an entire week from the golden beauty of her Defence instructor to the magical superiority of her taciturn Potions master. In '95, he had pulled up the sleeve of his robes to display his Dark Mark to the Minister of Magic, and Hermione had been rendered breathless by his bravery. That summer, he had flitted in and out of Grimmauld Place like a phantom, and she had been riveted by her imaginings of his danger at the hands of the Death Eaters as he gathered information for the Order. When the full story of his involvement in the war had been revealed, she had been moved to approach Professor McGonagall to assist in his defence; she would never forget the enigmatic expression upon his face as she had testified at his trial. The day he had been sentenced, his face impassive as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot had read of his twenty year incarceration in Azkaban, had been the last time she had seen him ... until today.

Her breathing normal again, her hands steady, Hermione squared her shoulders. She was a determined witch, a characteristic which had always stood her in good stead – perhaps it would benefit Professor Snape, as well. Her memories of her admiration for him had firmed her resolve again. She was not a quitter, and she would not give up.

Standing, she made her way to the back door and let herself into the house. Her brow was furrowed as her mind worked over the events of the day. What was the first thing he had said to her – something about a lunch date? And then something about how Professor McGonagall was having her do dirty work ... how was Professor McGonagall involved with Severus Snape now?

A look of determination crossed her face. Perhaps a visit to McGonagall's house was in order.

Minerva McGonagall entered the visiting room of Azkaban Prison carrying her briefcase. She was met by the sight of Severus Snape pacing the room to the extent permitted by the chains which bound him to the table leg.

'What are you doing, Severus?' she demanded as she took her seat.

The prisoner halted and turned to her, his face twisted with fury. 'How dare you set that insufferable know-it-all on me?'

McGonagall's hands stilled upon her bag, a fleeting look touching her eyes, then gone. 'What are you talking about now?'

'That Granger girl, Minerva – how could you send her out here to proposition me in that ridiculous way? Have you no regard for my dignity?'

McGonagall watched him with sharp, beady eyes. 'No one could ever possibly have enough regard for your so-called dignity to satisfy you, Severus Snape. Now, sit down and behave like a man instead of a caged animal!'

The two former professors engaged in a silent battle of wills until the younger perceived that he would receive no answers until he obeyed her command. With ill grace, Severus flung himself into the chair across the table from his business partner.

'Thank you,' McGonagall said politely. 'What are you raving about? Has Hermione Granger been here to see you?'

Severus glared at her. 'Have I not said so?'

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at his petulant tone. 'If you wish for me to remain and speak with you, Severus, you had best mend your manners. I am not here to witness one of your temper tantrums.'

Severus gritted his teeth and inhaled noisily. His anger tightly reined, he grated, 'Hermione Granger arrived this morning, unannounced, and proposed marriage to me to obtain my release on the probation program. Do you mean to tell me that you had no hand in her preposterous proposition?'

'I had no idea that Miss Granger meant to visit you at any time, Severus.' McGonagall cocked her head to one side, watching him and mulling over the information he had given her. 'What did you tell her?'

'I sent her running back to London with her tail between her legs!'

'Pity.' McGonagall looked down to hide the flash of elation she felt. If Severus suspected her of being pleased, it would simply drive him more forcefully in the opposite direction. She removed paperwork from her bag and set it on the table. 'Do you have the Brocklehurst proposal completed?'

Snape glared at the top of McGonagall's head as she bent over the parchment before her. 'Is that all you have to say?'

McGonagall sat up slowly, removed her glasses and polished them with a handkerchief from her pocket, then replaced the glasses and folded her hands on the table top. 'All right, Severus. I will discuss Hermione's proposal of marriage, but only because you have asked me to do so.'

Snape sputtered at her indignantly. 'There is nothing to discuss! The little swot is obviously imbalanced!'

Dispassionately, as if she was discussing a matter of little importance, she said, 'Miss Granger is well past the age of consent, intelligent, attractive – she is a fellow Order member, a fellow war veteran, and capable of understanding more about you than any other woman you are likely to come across. She possesses qualities not possessed by Hestia Jones – in short, she is an exemplary candidate for a wife for you.'

'I have no desire to have a wife!'

McGonagall glared at him. 'Then can we continue with our business discussion?'

Severus threw her a filthy look and pulled the Brocklehurst plan from his sleeve.

Harry opened the front door and stared at Minerva McGonagall. 'Professor! What a surprise!'

'Good afternoon, Harry,' the old woman responded, entering as he stepped aside for her.

'Professor McGonagall!'

Harry and McGonagall turned to see Hermione descending the staircase, zipping up her jacket as she came.

'I wanted to speak with you, Hermione,' McGonagall said.

Harry looked from one to the other. 'Is it about the job?' he asked. 'Don't you think Hermione should finish at uni first, Professor?'

Hermione laid a quieting hand on Harry's arm. 'I was coming to see you, ma'am.'

McGonagall nodded. 'That doesn't surprise me. Let's go down to the kitchen – I could use a cup of tea.'

Harry stared after them as they retreated to the basement. 'Don't mind me,' he said with good-natured sarcasm.

'We won't need you, Harry,' McGonagall called back to him, a small smile softening her words.

'I'll just see if I can amuse myself, shall I?'

Hermione had the good grace to look apologetic as she gave him a wave and followed McGonagall downstairs.

Two weeks later, Severus was not surprised when the guard came for him whilst his hair was still wet from the shower. If McGonagall and Granger had not been in the plot together before, they had undoubtedly discussed it since last visiting day and would now present a united front to him.

He was ready for them.

The Granger girl looked wary but determined as she walked into the visiting room and seated herself across the table from him. He did not speak to her, but held her gaze, one mocking eyebrow raised.

'I understand that you spoke with Professor McGonagall about our last visit,' she said.

'I thought she had sent you.'

'She didn't. I came to my decision independently.'

Severus nodded. 'You are wont to do that.'

Miss Granger visibly relaxed at his reasonable tone. 'There are some points in favour of our marriage that I didn't have an opportunity to discuss with you before,' she said, her gaze now moving to her hands, which were clasped on the table before her. He did not speak, so she continued. 'I think our interests are well-suited, that our values are similar, and that we could live with one another companionably.'

The girl raised her gaze again to his face, her soft brown eyes now very wide in her sombre face. 'I think it is only fair for you to know that I am sterile and unable to conceive. I will not be able to provide you with any natural children. If, however, you should wish to adopt a child, I would be more than willing to do so.'

Severus was aware of an uncomfortable sensation in his chest and wondered briefly if he was taking ill, then put the idea from him to respond to her. 'I see.'

A faint look of relief touched her face; he noted that she had taken some pains with her appearance, wearing the bushy hair plaited down her back and applying cosmetics before she came. He had not detected the tea rose scent upon her when she had seated herself; instead, she smelt of the preparation she had used to tame her hair enough to braid it. The roundness of face and figure she retained in his memories were gone in reality; the schoolgirl had become a young woman of resolution.

He had to get her out of there.

'And how shall we live?' he asked her suddenly.

She looked guarded. 'Live?'

'Where will we reside? What will we use for gold to buy food? You aren't under the impression that I have any gold, are you, Miss Granger?'

She shook her head vigorously. 'No. I – well, I have had a job offer, and I will work. It won't be much at first, but I'm sure it will be enough for a small flat ...'

He interrupted her. 'What do you imagine that I shall do in this small flat?'

Before she could reply, he continued, 'Whilst you are working, what shall I do? I don't think a convicted murderer and former Death Eater will be able to get paid work, do you?'

She opened her mouth and he said disingenuously, 'You wouldn't have any objection to me spending my days down the pub, would you?'

'I –' she began.

'Wouldn't that be fine?' he inquired conversationally. 'You could work to support me, and I could work at becoming a useless drunk.' He leant towards her, causing her to move back instinctively, until she caught herself. He sneered at her recoil, then his lids drooped, and he darted a frankly appraising leer from the corner of his eye. When he spoke again, it was in a disturbing purr. 'Of course, then you would come home from work, wouldn't you? You could do the housework, fix my supper, and then we'll go to bed. Do you like it on top, Miss Granger? I don't have a preference, as long as it is often.'

She blushed furiously and turned her face away from him.

'You are aware that the marriage must be consummated, are you not?' he continued, never looking away from her. 'Consummated and irrevocable. The Ministry won't settle for less in this circumstance, you know – can't have people marrying simply for the sake of being released on probation. There will be unbreakable fidelity charms placed upon us. You will not be able to move on to another man once you have done your good deed and my probation is over – you will be tied to me forever.' His voice had begun to rise with each new sentence, the false affability falling away to reveal his rabid disdain. 'You didn't know that, did you? Stupid girl – what if I had accepted your ridiculous proposal?' He slapped the tabletop and spat, 'This isn't a schoolgirl plan to free the house-elves.'

She stood, a look of blazing fury upon her face, and Severus was pushed back in his seat by the uncontrolled burst of magic radiating from her. The previously soft brown eyes were alight with anger, and the stray tendrils of hair about her face seemed to crackle with the energy of her umbrage.

'How dare you speak to me like that?' she demanded in tones throbbing with indignation. 'Have you ever known me to do incomplete research – to turn in less than top-rate work? No, you never had a kind word to say to me, but I shone in your classes, both in Potions and in Defence!'

In her ire, she knocked her chair further back, beginning to pace in a way which Severus recognized well.

'Of course I know that the marriage must be consummated and that we will be married for the rest of our lives! I'm not afraid of that, Professor – are you?' She stopped where she stood and glared at him fiercely, the brown eyes snapping, her lips set in a firm line. Her simple black robes parted over her plain grey trousers and tailored white blouse, showing him for the first time the woman's body into which she had grown since her Hogwarts days.

Severus watched her, that roiling feeling in his chest intensifying, becoming worse. Was he becoming ill? Never mind that, fool – get her OUT of here!

'Get out, Miss Granger,' he snarled. 'Go back to London. I have no need of your charity.'

'If I were feeling charitable, Professor, I would volunteer at St. Mungo's!' she retaliated. 'I never dreamt you would be such a coward – would you truly choose banishment rather than risk a liaison with me?'

His face darkened, and he looked daggers at her before standing and walking to the wall, where he stood, staring at the stone, until he heard her call the guard and depart without addressing him again. Mortified that she had wrung an emotional outburst from him, he leant against the wall as the door clanged shut behind her, his mind in turmoil.

Severus sat upon the thin mattress which comprised his bed, awaiting the inevitable. He had a dim hope that Minerva would accept the rebuff and return to the mainland without disturbing him, but he had known the old woman for thirty years; she was not one to take a repulse unchallenged.

The door opened and for the first time in his two year residence, someone other than a guard entered his cell. Resolutely, he kept his eyes on the wall.

'What is this, Severus?' her querulous voice demanded. 'I have come all the way here; the least you can do is have the courtesy to keep our appointment.'

'Not today, Minerva.'

He heard the chair scrape along the floor and the rustle of fabric, then felt a hand upon his back.

'What has happened to upset you?'

'Why could you not have discouraged her when she came to you about it?'

'Ah – Hermione has been here, then.' The hand was removed from his back. 'Turn around and we can discuss my rationale for not discouraging her.'

Severus moved to face her and raised an insolent eyebrow. She sat at her ease in his prison cell, the tartan accents to her robes and hat the only splashes of colour in the dreary space.

'I have a number of reasons, which I will list in no particular order,' she said. 'I want you out of prison. Hermione wants to marry you. She admires you, is intelligent and is capable of appreciating you as the woman who is to be your wife ought to do. In addition, this marriage will be of benefit to her, as well.'

Severus cut across her impatiently. 'In what way?'

McGonagall frowned. 'You can provide her with a home, Severus, and an education.'

He snorted. 'You make her sound like a homeless orphan.'

Her frown deepened. 'You had already left the school when Hermione's parents were killed. Did you know that her inheritance went to pay their business debts?'

He shot her a sharp look. 'Who supports her now?'

'Can't you guess?'

'Potter,' he spat.

McGonagall nodded. 'It bothers her, though. Harry would willingly give her the key to his vault, but she worries about infringing upon his good nature.'

'If Potter is that besotted with her, why is she willing to bind herself to me? Or does the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Us-All know the Granger girl cannot provide a nursery full of screaming Potter brats?' He glowered at her. 'The last thing I need is a wife who is pining for a man who wouldn't have her.'

'There has never been anything other than friendship between Harry and Hermione, Severus, and anyone who has paid any attention to them could tell you that. They love one another as siblings do, but they have never been romantically interested in one another.' McGonagall's voice lowered and she leant towards him. 'You told me that you would not marry Hestia Jones because you had nothing to give in exchange for your freedom. Well, with Hermione Granger, you have something significant to offer her – financial security.'

The discomfort behind his sternum fluttered again; Severus did not speak, but looked over McGonagall's shoulder, his eyes focussed on nothing, his mind busy. After several minutes had passed, McGonagall stood and paced over to the wall opposite his pallet. When she reached the wall, she turned back to him, her wand in her hand.

Severus watched, his eyes riveted upon her wand, feeling the yearning rise in him as it did at his worst times – how he longed to hold his wand again!

'You will get your wand back, you know, when they let you out on probation. You will have to turn it over to your Probation Supervisor at each meeting for Priori Incantatem, but that will end when you satisfactorily complete your probation period. Don't you want that, Severus?'

His glare would have frightened a sensible person, but Minerva McGonagall had experienced the full range of Severus' artillery too often to be impressed; she was also unmoved by the way he swore at her before he took up his quill. She simply seated herself upon his pallet and waited for him to complete his letter.

After all, there was a great deal of planning to do.

That night, Hermione dreamt of Severus Snape.

She was in a wild country, a wind-swept moor; ahead of her was a rocky promontory, the approach to which was strewn with huge boulders. Shading her eyes against the glare of the bright sun, she saw him standing at the summit of the outcrop. Shading his own eyes, he looked out over the vista spread before him, which was hidden from Hermione's eyes by the rugged peak. What did he see? His long black hair streamed in the wind as he tilted his face to the sunlight. Then he looked down, his gaze seemingly fixed upon her. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart begin to beat faster. She had to get to him – she had to stand with him, looking out at the valley on the other side – she had to be closer to him the next time he looked at her with such compelling intensity. As one does in dreams, she knew that if she could climb over the slabs of rock and reach the pinnacle upon which he stood, she would see what he was seeing. Desirous, she began to walk, only to be balked by the first boulder in her path. Frustrated, she looked up again, closer now, and found he was still watching her. She attempted to call to him, but her words were carried away by the wind. He looked away at the panorama before him, then again down at her. Hermione was conscious of a fierce dynamic flowing between them, tinged with hunger and urgency. How desperately she wished to be on the mountain top with him! For what seemed an endless time, their eyes were locked. At last, he reached his hand to her.

She woke, thirsty, and padded into the bathroom for a cup of water. What an odd dream! What had it meant? Why had the sight of his lean, unfettered figure standing on the cliff moved her so? What would have happened if she had managed to grasp his outstretched hand?

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she moved back to the bed, falling asleep and dreaming no more.

The next morning she opened her eyes to see a handsome tawny owl pecking at her bedroom window. Hermione rose and opened the window, removing the heavy vellum envelope with Security Solutions in the upper left corner. The owl flew away and she tore the envelope open to find a note.

Dear Hermione,

Please find enclosed a note from Severus Snape, which he requested that I send to you.

Best wishes,

Minerva McGonagall

Very curious now, Hermione removed a piece of parchment bearing Professor Snape's familiar spiky handwriting.

Miss Granger,

I would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss the matter we broached at your last visit. I believe some accommodation may be reached.

S.S.

With echoes of his disturbing presence in her dream still reverberating in her mind, Hermione felt her sudden shortness of breath and her increased heart rate as an extension of her dream-state – it was a perfectly natural reaction. She hurried to her bath, and beneath the needle-like spray, she came fully awake and determined to separate the confusing emotion of her dream from the well thought-out proposition she had presented to him. Swiftly cleansing and scenting her body, re-plaiting her hair, taking pains over her make-up, she mentally reiterated her resolve: she would show him the mature woman she had become, who was entirely sure of what she was getting into and felt completely prepared to take him on.

She was gone before Harry woke up.