Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Severus stormed out of his laboratory, the door slamming behind him. His expression was thunderous, and his face almost as black as his hair, courtesy of yet another attempt at a memory restoration potion gone up in smoke.

At least this time he had a sneaking suspicion as to the cause of his failures, namely that the Jobberknoll feathers should be willingly given. Which would mean all of his attempts were doomed to failure as no bird – save a phoenix – gave feathers freely. Unless Lucius could coax his feathered friends to moult… which would give him yet another thing to lord over Severus.

A glowering house-elf intercepted him, sparks leaping from long fingers as it magically cleaned the soot from him, head to toe. Severus glanced behind him at the sooty footprints soiling the carpet. In another shower of sparks they vanished. Pity. A filthy floor was nothing less than Lucius deserved.

So far Lucius had kept his promise to keep his hands to himself. However, since their truce was obtained at wand point, Severus did not anticipate Lucius would keep his word that for him it was a marriage in name only. What was worse, after seeing Hermione in action in the Pensieve memories from Kingsley, it was clear that Lucius was in lust. If risking the loss of Severus’s friendship was not enough to stop Lucius from crossing the line before, it certainly wouldn’t be now.

In the last few days Severus had come across far too many intimate little conversations between Lucius and Hermione. True, they were not as intimate as his own with her as there was no touching involved – or at least none that Severus had seen. It might be different when they were researching in the Ministry…

Severus clenched his fists at what that thought provoked in his mind’s eye, of Lucius touching Hermione with the freedom she allowed her true husband. Severus paused to steady himself against the wall. Imagining it was even worse than seeing what happened under his nose, as at least the latter was nothing that wasn’t innocent… at least on Hermione’s side.

He had to believe – trust – that Hermione was not interested in anything more than friendship with Lucius. And that even if she was attracted to him, she wouldn’t cheat on—

‘If he somehow did manage to charm his way into her bed, she wouldn’t be cheating on me in order to do so; Hermione is legally wed to Lucius as well.’

—Fine, that she wouldn’t betray him. Would she?

History was against Severus. On one of the rare occasions that he was interested in a woman after Lily’s death, she was stolen away by Lucius. That stung at the time, but at least the damage was only to his pride, as he hadn’t loved Lucius’s conquest.

But this was Hermione. Just before the plague struck, she’d known Severus was attracted to her, and he was certain that it was mutual. Yet she hadn’t acted on it, because she was with Weasley. Her fidelity could be in no doubt.

Although… because it had been days before she fell ill, Merlin only knew what would have happened had the plague never occurred. She might have left Weasley for him, which meant—

‘No. Don’t go further down that path. Paranoia paves it; madness lies at the end.’

Rather than search the whole house for Hermione, Severus called an elf. The same one who cleaned up after him appeared near-silently. It stared blankly at him when he asked where she was by name. Obviously more formality was needed.

“Where is the mistress of the house?”

“Poor Mistress is in her tomb waiting for Master to join her.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he restrained the urge to kick the elf in revenge for the heart-stopping second that he thought it had meant Hermione. “Your new Mistress. Where is she?”

The elf scowled. “With Master and his birds.”

Severus dismissed the elf and Apparated to the top floor of the aviary. Fawkes trilled a greeting. The short burst of phoenix song soothed Severus’s temper. He gave Fawkes a stroke on his smooth feathered head in gratitude.

Unfortunately Severus’s newfound peace shattered as soon as he descended to the Owlery on the floor below. Lucius had a magnificent pure black owl on his arm. Hermione was hesitantly reaching out to stroke the head, her back to Severus where he stood on the staircase.

“He’s lovely. But… don’t you already have enough owls?” she asked.

“Ah, but he’s not for me. He’s for you. Happy anniversary.” Lucius lifted his arm and the owl fluttered over to perch on Hermione’s shoulder. She staggered a little under the weight.

“Anniversary?” Hermione echoed, bemused.

“It’s been a month since Shacklebolt married us. I know it has not been a pleasant month, but that’s all the more reason to give you a gift.” Lucius didn’t look at Severus, but he was surely aware of his presence. The wards would have given away the Apparition apart from anything else.

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, stroking the owl gently clinging to her shoulder. “I’ve never had an owl of my own. What’s his name?”

“Umbra. I would have left the naming to you, but a good post owl needs to be named as soon as he hatches.” Lucius smiled warmly at Hermione. It was the sort of smile that Severus strongly suspected was mutual.

He stood there seething, his fists clenched as his teeth ground together. This time the outrage was not solely aimed at Lucius, but also at Hermione.

True, it would be rude to reject Lucius’s gift, but surely she was not so obtuse to not realise that it was a gift from a husband to a wife, and that meant that she should reject it and Lucius’s advances.

Damn her. She was too nice. Too friendly. She was encouraging the bastard, for the love of Merlin! It was painfully obvious that Lucius’s professed wish to be friends was actually to be friends with benefits.

And… it hadn’t even occurred to Severus that they’d been married for a month. Although it was more confusing for him due to the fact that he’d married her twice. It was over a month since their Muggle wedding. If he went by that, he’d missed the first month mark. If he went by the wizarding one he’d been upstaged by Lucius and always would be – he had no bottomless Gringotts vault. Still, a real wedding anniversary only applied after a year. Severus curled his lip. That was the solution, then. He would only observe the annual anniversary of their Muggle wedding… provided that Lucius did not steal Hermione away before then, of course.

Lucius looked over Hermione’s head and met Severus’s glower. The warm smile on that pointed face morphed into a smirk.

Severus stalked off the stairs and onto the Owlery floor, his pulse throbbing in his temples. He wanted to bloody Lucius’s smug face. He wanted to—No. He didn’t want to strike Hermione. But he did want to shout some sense into her.

He almost reached Hermione when he came to an abrupt halt. Lashing out at her – even only verbally – would only serve to drive her away. And worse, if she was driven away, it would likely be into Lucius’s arms.

Furthermore, now that he stopped to think, he also knew that in his right mind, unclouded by anger, he didn’t want to lash out. Not at her.

And even if he wanted to fight Lucius off, he couldn’t do that in front of Hermione or risk her coming across them trading blows. He knew how much that upset her…

That left only one course of action: Occlumency. It was not advisable to bottle up emotions indefinitely, as they could break through the mental walls explosively, but Severus had managed to do so for years while spying on the Dar—Voldemort.

Severus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, each inhalation and exhalation the physical expression of building layers of mental walls blocking off the negative emotions provoked by Lucius’s actions… and Hermione’s inactions.

When he opened his eyes, Severus was glacially calm… Although it was a little disturbing that he had to instantly force a fresh surge of anger behind the shields the moment his eyes set on Lucius. It was obviously going to be just as challenging as facing Lily’s murderer every time he’d answered Voldemort’s summons.

But it was worth it. Seeing the way Hermione’s face lit up when she turned to face him underlined that.

And if it deprived Lucius of the pleasure of baiting him, so much the better.

* * *

Ginny dropped her toast back onto the plate. She was vaguely aware that it had landed jam-side down, but most of her attention was on the Prophet where it lay open on the table.

She’d been idly reading through the trashy articles when a familiar name caught her eye: Severus Snape. She read it through twice, unable to believe her eyes.

Then Draco’s drawling voice penetrated her stupor. “What’s so riveting in that rag?”

“Let’s see,” Harry said from beside him, reaching for the Prophet.

“It’s there.” Ginny pointed to the article. “And I’ve got to find Ron before he does something stupid.” She pushed away from the table and dashed over to the fireplace in Grimmauld Place’s kitchen, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and hurling it in. “The Burrow!”

She fell out of the fireplace in her family home, feeling the normal yet heart-rending pang at the lack of her mother’s presence. The house was just so empty without her. It was why her dad had let her move in with Harry with only a token protest.

She’d arrived just in time, as Ron clattered down the stairs and made for the front door like an Acromantula was on his heels. Ginny launched herself at him and tackled him to the floor.

“Augh! Ginny! Lemmego!” Ron kicked at her and wriggled away, only to fall stricken in a Full Body-Bind.

“Sorry, Ron, but it’s the only way you’re going to listen to me.” Ginny casually perched on the edge of the kitchen table, twirling her wand in her hand. “You’ve read the Prophet. They say Snape was arrested, and give the ‘facts’ that he was locked up because he was sterile and tried to fool the Healers so that he’d stay married to Hermione. And let me guess, I caught you before you could go to Malfoy Manor and offer yourself up as a replacement hubby for Hermione.”

Ginny relaxed the Body-Bind so that Ron could move his head. “Yeah. So what?”

“It might not be true, that’s what! This is the Prophet we’re talking about. And even if it is true, I don’t think Hermione would appreciate you blundering in. She really does like Snape, you know.”

Ron grimaced and turned his face away.

“I know you don’t like to hear it, Ron, but Hermione wasn’t the girl for you. You don’t have much in common except friendship with Harry. You just don’t fit.” She meshed her fingers, cradling her wand in both hands.

Ron must have almost given himself whiplash with the speed he twisted his head back to face Ginny. “And you and Draco Malfoy do?” he spat.

“He’s dishy—” Ron retched theatrically. Ginny stuck out her tongue. “—and he’s decent these days. Believe it or not, he also gets along with my other husband-to-be now that Harry’s given him a chance.”

“I don’t want to know! And with Hermione… this could be my last chance. Please, Ginny. Let me go.”

“If I let you go, Hermione’ll turn you into a toad. No, it’s better if I go. If it is true, I’ll try to put in a good word for you. Okay?”

Ron looked away, sulkily. “Okay,” he grumbled.

Ginny stood up and made her way to the front door. She’d have to Apparate as she probably wouldn’t be able to Floo to Malfoy Manor without access from Lucius Malfoy.

“Hey!” Ron cried from behind her. “Aren’t you going to Finite the Petrificus?”

“You’d only barge in. I’ll come back and let you go… if I remember.”

“Oi! Ginny, come back. Ginny!”

She laughed and closed the door on her whining brother.

* * *

After the magical gate let her in, Ginny wandered up the long gravel drive to the manor. She kept her eyes on the path rather than inspecting the scenery (not that the tall hedges on either side would let her), as to do anything else risked stepping in peacock shit.

The house-elf who answered the door cracked off to let Hermione know that she had a visitor. Moments later, Hermione herself Apparated into the entrance hall, a quill tucked into her hair just above her ear and ink stains on her hands.

“Ginny?”

“Er, hi. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

Hermione opened the nearest door in the hallway. The room beyond was small by Malfoy standards, with comfortable dragonhide chairs to sit in.

“Drink?” Hermione offered.

“You might need one,” Ginny muttered. “No thanks. I’m just here on Ron’s behalf. He wanted to charge in to the rescue like some sort of knight in second-hand dented armour.”

Hermione cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow in a way that was creepily like Snape’s.

“Have you seen today’s Daily Prophet? No? Oh… well, there’s something about Snape being arrested after his fertility check up at St Mungo’s. The reporter assumed it was because Snape’s sterile and tried to cover it up.”

The blood drained from Hermione’s face, leaving her as pale as Snape. So it was true…

“Oh. I’m sorry, Hermione. I know what Snape means to you.” Ginny swallowed hard. What she had to say next might get her hexed instead of Ron… “If the worst comes to the worst, there is always Ron, or another of my brothers. Weasleys are just about guaranteed to be fertile enough to knock you up at the first try. You wouldn’t even need to do it more than that one time if you didn’t want to.”

“Ginny…” Hermione’s hand twitched as if she was about to draw her wand. Ginny tensed, ready to whip her own out to defend herself. But Hermione’s wand stayed out of sight. Instead, she hugged herself. “Shut up.”

Ginny gaped at her. She’d never known Hermione to be quite so… so… She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was very wrong.

Hermione whipped her wand out. Ginny flinched, but only a Muffliato was cast. Hermione looked away, her mouth trembling slightly. “I’m the one with the problem, not Severus, or Lucius for that matter. Severus made a potion that made them infertile too, something only he can reverse.”

Ginny closed her mouth with a snap and found her voice. “Wow. That’s so romantic. He must really love you.” She shook herself. What sort of friend was she?! “Oh, Merlin… I’m so sorry, Hermione. The Ministry, the Wizengamot… they’re not going to annul your marriages, are they?”

“No. Although they would’ve done if Kingsley hadn’t put his foot down. And that wasn’t just for my sake – it just doesn’t make sense to break unions if the woman is sterile.”

‘Can I do anything to help’ was on the tip of Ginny’s tongue. But of course there wasn’t. If anything, it would help Hermione if she stayed away, at least after she married Harry and Draco. They were almost guaranteed to fulfil the addendum in record time, what with the Weasley-Prewett fertility record. It would hurt Hermione to be around Ginny when she was pregnant…

Yet it would also hurt her if Ginny avoided her. And it would hurt Ginny too… neither of them had many female friends left, not after the death toll of the plague.

Life sucked.

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Kribu, JunoMagic and Septentrion for betaing.