Fame and Misfortune

Summary -- Hermione moves to Hogwarts and Severus practices restraint and hears it from Albus. Of course, a crisis arises.

A/N – Excuse me while I wax sentimental about my betas. Wax on. Wax off. Thanks guys.

--

Chapter Eleven –

Opening the heavy oak door, Severus stepped aside and motioned for his bride to enter her new accommodations. He\'d had her things moved, which to judge by her reaction, was a good thing. Ever since he had arrived at the hospital, Severus could tell something was wrong.

“I had your things moved from the dungeons,” he informed her as he walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes to let the sunshine in. “Minerva would have been here to greet you, but she had business in Hogsmeade. Is something wrong?”

Standing next to the settee, she set her bag down. “Why were my things moved from the dungeon?” she asked softly, a look of irritated confusion flitting across her face.

Unable to contain the look of astonishment on his face, he smirked. “I thought you would be more comfortable here.”

“And why would you think that?” she retorted crossly, folding her arms over her chest and tapping her foot in vexation.

Severus played along. “Under the circumstances, I felt it would be best.”

“What circumstances?”

He knew that stance and tone – she was preparing for an argument, but in a purely Gryffindor sense, felt the need to pick a fight before it could begin. So, in his uniquely Slytherin way, he maneuvered his way around the potential, unfortunate scene.

“We are married,” Severus explained patiently, running his fingertips along the back of the sofa. “We married under false pretenses. Those pretenses no longer exist. Since you were robbed of your memories, I felt it best to make other arrangements for you.”

--

Feeling her annoyance and determination wither, she moved around the settee, sat down, and folded her hands in her lap. He was so reserved, almost cold. Yes, his letter wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was a start – something that had given her hope. Now, it was as though he’d never written it.

Her independent streak had cost her dearly before. It had taken her ages to repair the rift that had come between her and Ginny. The man behind her, her husband, was trying to do what he thought was best. Perhaps she should cut him some slack and stop being so bitchy.

“I thought the Healer said not to make any changes – to make sure I was in familiar surroundings,” Hermione stated as if she were delivering bad news.

Severus gave a resigned sigh. “Well then, what would you like to do? Should you live with Minerva, you’ll be…safe.”

“Safe from what?” she questioned, being deliberately obtuse. In his sphere of influence, she felt intoxicated, almost euphoric. She felt the undeniable need to do unspeakable things to him – unspeakable things she had never done before. Or had she?

“Not what. Whom.”

“Whom then?” asked Hermione curiously.

“Me,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone, which rattled her rancor further.

Closing her eyes, her overactive, sex-deprived imagination flashed a passionate vision before her and she blushed. In her daydream, she was pressed against him, her hands somewhere under his robes, and her lips upon the long column of his neck. His head was tossed back in abandon.

Oh, Merlin! I’ve got to stop reading those silly romance books. The sensual tripe is unrealistic and hardly the basis for a relationship.

He wasn’t the one she should be worried about. Her own libido could overrule her good sense.

“I must have been safe with you at one point,” stated Hermione.

“My desire for you borders on insanity,” her husband replied, walking into the middle of the conversation pit that was formed by another sofa and two chairs. He sat down in one of the chairs and crossed his legs. Then he uncrossed them. It was as if he was not comfortable in his own skin.

“Our passion is the reason for this…” He waved his hand in the air as if he were trying to brush something away from him. “…nightmare.”

Any romantic notions she may have had shriveled up and died. She was his personal nightmare. That was just great! He regretted everything. Oh, Gods! This was worse than Ron. She was inexplicably drawn to the man in front of her and he didn’t want her.

“Yes, all right then,” Hermione replied, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them. She looked at the hands in her lap. They didn’t even feel like her hands. She felt disconnected and numb. She was married to a man who didn’t want her. The bitter sting of tears pricked the back of her eyes and she blinked furiously to stifle the flow before it started.

Plastering a smile on her face, she stood up and walked toward the bookshelf. “Have you any idea which room is mine?”

Severus jumped up and rushed down the small hall, opening a couple of doors. “I believe this one is yours,” he called out.

“Thank you.” Hermione followed the sound of his voice and stopped next to him. He was standing in the doorway. “I’m a little tired from the trip and would like to lie down.”

“Of course.” Moving to the side, Severus motioned for her to step into the room.

Turning sideways, she approached him and couldn’t avoid brushing against him. His arm shot out and blocked her path. She could feel his breath against her cheek and a jolt of lust ran through her. She could see a reflection of light in his black eyes. He wasn’t touching her, but their proximity was more intimate than any caress.

“Do not mistake my civility for indifference, Hermione,” he murmured slowly as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I do want you.”

Leaning against the doorframe, she could do nothing but stare at his lips.

Severus licked his lips and she held her breath – a breath she was having a difficult time catching. The press of his thin lips against her forehead was warm and gentle – words not easily associated with her former Potions’ professor.

Breaking the contact, Severus moved out of the doorway. “I promised your mother I would give you time,” he whispered, a slight catch in his voice. “Floo me if you need anything. Dobby is also at your disposal.”

Even though she was warm, she shivered.

--

Clenching his fists as he stomped down the stairs, Severus caught himself when the staircase started to move. He should be nominated for Muggle sainthood. His restraint had been tested on levels he hadn’t known he possessed.

He had promised Hermione’s mother everything she had requested. Never having had a truly loving parent, he had been defenseless against his mother-in-law’s charms. His wife was a blend of both her parents, but her eyes were definitely her mother’s.

His mother-in-law had been firm, but not overly pushy in her demands. After all, she wanted what was best for her daughter.

At first, Severus felt it best for Hermione to return home with her parents. It was her mother who had pointed out that his wife would be more comfortable in the wizarding world. Even after explaining his role in the permanent bond, he had been astounded by his in-law’s understanding.

In a moment of weakness, he had claimed her. He knew then what he wanted, and he wanted Hermione.

“Ah! There you are, Severus,” the annoying, meddlesome voice of Dumbledore called from below him.

Schooling his features, Severus managed not to roll his eyes in frustration as he continued on his way down the stairs.

“How does Madam Snape find her accommodations?” Albus asked as he waited for Severus to join him at the bottom.

Once Severus reached the headmaster, he replied, “She is resting.”

Albus scratched his beard thoughtfully. “And how did she take the news?”

Nosy, busybody. “She is tired,” Severus retorted sharply. “I haven’t had the time to discuss much with her in any great length.”

Gathering his robes, Dumbledore walked alongside him. “She does know she is married, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.” His irritation grew. Now that he had Hermione, what was he going to do with her?

“Have you devised a plan?” Albus popped a piece of candy into his mouth and smacked his lips.

“Regarding what?” Severus could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise.

A smile twitched at the corner of the headmaster’s mouth. “Not what, my dear boy, but whom.”

His employer’s innate ability to dawdle over things was actually very vexing. “Who are you talking about?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Albus stared at the Potions master. “Your wife, of course. Have you figured out a plan to win her heart?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Severus scolded. “Why should I devise a plan?”

“Was it not your intention to woo her?” the older wizard asked, seemingly taken aback.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh my,” Albus clucked. “This is most unfortunate, indeed. I thought you had finally found the happiness you deserved in life.”

“Has it escaped your attention that I have not and am not looking for happiness?”

The infernal twinkle left the meddler’s warm eyes. “Oh Merlin,” Albus grumbled. “I wonder what she must be thinking.”

Something told him that Albus’ concern correlated directly with Hermione. “What did you do, Albus?”

“Well.” Albus stopped walking and smacked his lips in contemplation. “I helped you write a letter and place an order for flowers.”

It was the insult after the injury. The wizard before him was merciless.

Albus could not contain his smirk. “You were inebriated when you came to me. You wanted to write a letter to Hermione and needed my help to do so. Luckily, your condition led you to me. You were in no condition to write the letter. So, I wrote it for you.”

Severus groaned.

“I even helped you place the order for flowers.” Albus chuckled in remembrance.

“You bloody nuisance,” growled Severus.

Brushing off the insult, Dumbledore slapped the younger wizard on the back. “Don’t worry, Severus. It wasn’t an overly sentimental note. You simply asked permission to court your wife.”

Closing his eyes, Severus started to count to ten.

“Judging by what Mr. Filch found, I’m guessing that you tried to recover the letter. Have I misjudged your regard for Hermione, Severus? Was I wrong to encourage you in your endeavor to explain your feelings to her? If you do not love her, then why did you invoke such ancient magic?”

“I –”

“That was very irresponsible, Severus,” chastised Albus. “Irresponsible and wrong. Did you not consider the consequences of your actions? Do you realize that you hold claim to her soul, and she yours?”

“We –”

“I, myself, do not subscribe to the notion of reincarnation,” Dumbledore continued. “One life is difficult enough. Why complicate matters? What if Hermione does not return your affections? Why –”

“If you would be quiet long enough for me to explain, I would,” Severus hissed in exasperation.

Dumbledore gaped at him and nodded for him to explain.

Severus paced in front of the headmaster, holding his hands behind his back. It looked as though he was a barrister, trying to plead a case. “You have not misjudged my regard for my wife. As for your hand in fostering sentimental tripe, I have no answer because I don’t remember what I wrote.

“I…love my wife. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It just is.” He cleared his throat and continued. “As for our bond…Yes, it was irresponsible of me. I can hardly explain my actions. It was as if something otherworldly compelled me to say the words. As for Hermione’s feelings, I do not know. If she felt anything for me, it is lost to her and to me.”

The older man contemplated Severus’ words thoughtfully. “Then there is only one thing for you to do.”

Severus looked down the hall, wanting so much to be done with this conversation. He despised sentimentality and, for some odd reason, he felt like his employer was going to start spouting romantic nonsense.

Oblivious to the fact that he had not responded, Dumbledore went on. “You must win her heart. Woo her. Make her fall in love with you.”

Severus rolled his eyes in disgust. “I have no time for your inane schemes, Headmaster. I have classes to teach and duties to which I must attend. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Feeling Albus’ stare on his back as he walked away, Severus cursed silently. He hadn’t heard the last from the old man.

--

Lying on the bed, Hermione stared at the flowers on the windowsill and touched the letter under her pillow. Having felt disconnected ever since she’d woken up in the Hospital, she could scarcely believe recent events. She didn’t know which was more difficult to accept – having had a stalker or being married to Severus Snape.

The entire situation was surreal. Well, it had been surreal until he had pressed his lips against her forehead. She’d never been so confused. She’d never felt so warm before. Is this what desire felt like?

Gods, I need a life. Harry and Ginny are married. Ron is dating, and she had immersed herself in her career. Well, she’d had her career.

Now, she had a husband and a big gaping hole in her memory. Could things get any better, Hermione thought sarcastically as she wished for different things?

Her eyes drifted closed and the healing arms of Morpheus surrounded her.

--

Why did he feel the compulsion to strangle his employer, Severus wondered as he marked some essays. Yes, the old fool meant well. But Severus did not need his help.

His Gryffindor wife seemed lost – almost fragile. He needed to take things slowly. The last thing he needed was Albus mucking around in his affairs. Even though he wanted nothing less than to strip her naked and make her remember him, Severus knew he could not force her passion to the front. He would have to coax it from her.

Knowing what needed to be done, Severus cringed. He’d spent all his life pushing people away. How did he go about wooing his wife?

“Professor Snape, Professor Snape!” a shrill voice with a Scottish brogue echoed through the dungeon halls. “Severus!”

Severus hurried across his classroom. The heavy door flew open as if it were a feather.

The deputy headmistress ran toward him, her normally severe appearance frayed beyond recognition. “You must come! Hurry!” she shouted.

“What is it?” insisted Severus, following her lead.

“Horrible news! Horrible news, indeed!” Minerva declared as she rushed along the dungeon corridor and up the stairs.

Severus scowled. Assuredly, one of his Slytherins had been caught doing something unmentionable. “What has happened?” Severus asked, rephrasing the question and hoping for a reply.

“He got away,” she panted, climbing the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

His mood changed to one of annoyance. Could the witch be any more vague? “Who got away?”

Reaching a landing, Minerva turned and held her side. Her face was bright red with exertion and her eyes held a quality Severus had rarely seen – fear.

“Lockhart,” the witch said, the name of Hogwarts’ former DADA instructor rolling off her tongue with barely contained contempt.

--

Hushed voices woke her. One was concerned, one scared, and one angry.

“I don’t see how it could have happened,” the angry voice stated.

Hermione frowned. What was Severus angry about?

“Once I heard about his escape…” Hermione recognized the fearful voice as Minerva’s. “…I hurried to the castle. From what the Daily Prophet is reporting, Gilderoy escaped custody while they were waiting on the Obliviators to arrive.”

Annoyance yielded to panic as the implications of the conversation she was eavesdropping on registered. She was afraid – not for herself, but for those around her.

“I should have Obliviated him, myself,” Severus growled.

“The important thing is that Hermione is safe,” Dumbledore said, his tone concerned. “We’re aware of the situation. He can’t get to her here.”

She didn’t know who to be more annoyed with – the trio of Hogwarts’ staff or Gilderoy Lockhart. She would be damned if she were going to run and hide from anybody. It sounded as though Dumbledore intended for Hogwarts to become her prison.

“I’ll have her things moved to the dungeons immediately,” Severus replied. “The dungeon is more secure than Gryffindor tower.”

There he goes again! Making decisions for me when I’m not around!

Pushing the door open, Hermione walked into the room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

All eyes turned toward her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her husband chastised, his tone one that brokered no argument. “The dungeon is safer.”

“Severus is right, Hermione,” Minerva cautioned.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Hermione braced herself for the ensuing argument. “I won’t run. I won’t go into hiding. And I am not being ridiculous.”

*****

A/N – I have another story sitting on my hard drive, just waiting to be posted. It\'s a Remus/Sirius/OFC smutfest with plot. There is some slash in it. I\'m looking for a beta reader. Anyone interested?