A Dish Served Cold

Chapter 14 – Confusion

Severus stared at his young bride in consternation. His natural resistance to being manipulated had sent him charging off to undo the Ministry spell but the countering potion had left him cold and ill at ease. There was always a catch, he thought savagely. Still, whatever they did that night, there would be no doubt that it was by their own will; he would take what comfort he could find in that.

“Well…” Hermione began nervously, staring about her at the books. In the firelight, with her hair up and the light playing across her shoulders and neck she looked quite attractive. There was a real maturity in her face and eyes that counteracted his usual disgust for his students. Out of a school uniform, she was not an unappealing sight. He could feel a low tingling starting up in his belly and knew that he would not have to work all that hard to reach arousal.

“Yes?” He looked around for something – anything – to distract him from the rather low décolletage of her dress. He knew from past experience that he was capable of tricking his body into performing, even in far less attractive situations. Her comfort and pleasure was the real issue here. She had a virgin’s blushing fear on her face and the Maiden’s Ease would take time to work through her system. “Tea?” he asked her suddenly, his eyes alighting on a tray left by the House Elves for them.

“Yes, please.” Her relief was palpable as he poured for them and they settled into the library chairs. They were still uneasy in each other’s company, but both were relieved by the postponement of the inevitable.

“Do you have any questions for me?” It occurred to him that they had been so busy with their lessons that they had had very little time to discuss their future. She blushed fiercely, stared into her teacup and then spoke in a rapid and breathy voice.

“Have you had a lot of women?” It was not the question he had expected. He opened his mouth to snap at her and then realized what her real question was. Of course; only Hermione Granger would want to quiz her new husband on whether or not he had studied.

“If you are asking whether I am experienced in this area, then I can assure you that I am as competent at sex as I am at potions.” She turned bright red at his words and studied her teacup as though the answers to her questions were written there. “If you do not wish to take my word for it, I am sure I can get letters of recommendations from past lovers.” He imbued the words with irony but Hermione’s huge eyes and red-faced stammering actually vastly amused him.

“Th-that won’t be necessary,” she replied, still breathless. He was finding this game rather more fun than he had expected. In the lovely dress, seated across from him in front of the fire, he began to wonder if he hadn’t gotten the better part of this devil’s bargain after all. She was not unattractive and while he doubted the actual act would be particularly fulfilling for either of them, he would at least be able to release some of his tensions with her.

She turned her face and peered at him over the rim of her cup. The scared look on her face stopped him cold. The child was terrified of him and for the first time in many years, his reputation as the nastiest teacher in the school was suddenly a disadvantage.

“I won’t hurt you, child; I promise.” He felt old, tired and sad as he spoke, letting the words roll out slowly, trying to make her see his sincerity in this. She looked down at her cup again and shook her head.

“I know that, sir. I’m not scared of you. I just have never done this before and I don’t know what to expect.” She looked up at him again, eyes filled with tears. “What if I’m awful at it and it’s horrible?” The urge to throw his head back and laugh was overwhelming but he mastered it.

“No one is good at it the first time,” he shrugged and she looked at him dubiously.

“But Ron said…” she began and this time he did laugh.

“No young man is going to admit that they were terrified, inept and were halfway through making the young lady acutely miserable when they were driven from the Astronomy Tower,” he retorted through his chuckles.

“Really?” Hermione was looking up at him with gleeful amusement. “He left that bit out.”

“Can you really blame him?” He leaned forwards and tented his hands in front of his face.

“No, but that won’t stop me from teasing the heck out of him,” she shot back with a smug look.

“Very Slytherin,” he approved.

Neville Longbottom stood in utter terrified rigidity beside Professor Dumbledore. The coach from Beauxbatons was gliding through the air, bringing his soon-to-be-wife closer and closer. He was resigned to his fate but he found the uncertainty was killing him. What did she look like? Was she tall, short, thin, fat, uglier than sin? She was a Snape – that was the extent of his knowledge and it was nowhere near enough to stop the nightmares.

Every night for the past week he had found himself waking from horrible dreams where Professor Snape had made him carve the Christmas goose and critiqued his technique through the whole process. He was surrounded by a large number of Snapes, all identical to the Professor, including his wife, who looked exactly like the boggart Snape had in his grandmother’s clothes.

The coach was almost here. The giant horses came to a thudding landing on the front lawn and the door popped open.

“Bonjour!” Madame Maxime came climbing from the carriage with a large purple boa wrapped around her throat and a clashing hat in citrine on her head. Behind her came a short slight figure, so bundled in shawls that she looked more like a display rack than a girl.

“Maxime!” Professor Dumbledore smiled at the overlarge headmistress with a cheerful air that Neville found particularly offensive.

“Ah, Dumbledore! So very pleasant to see you again!” Like a steamer leaving port, Maxime wound her stately way towards them, the girl trotting along behind her, trying to keep up with her long stride.

As they got closer, Neville leaned sideway a bit trying to see his bride and found her doing the same thing, peering around the bulk of her escort.

“So, this is young Miss Snape; so very glad to make your acquaintance, my dear. Mr. Longbottom has been very anxious to meet you.”
With one slender hand, the girl unwound the headscarf to reveal a head full of auburn curls and a pair of sparkling green eyes. She looked nothing like Snape; in fact, she was quite pretty. Her nose was a little thin and sharp, her chin very pointed, but her smile was broad and friendly and he was close to fainting from relief.

He found himself grinning back at her. She walked towards him and extended a hand. Her fingers were tinged blue and he quickly grabbed her hands to warm them up.

“You must be chilled through – we should go in and get you warm.” Neville was quite concerned; up close she was obviously shivering.

“My hero,” she murmured shyly at him and Neville knew that everything was going to be wonderful. As the warmth of her gaze traveled through his bloodstream he knew that he could fight anyone, even Professor Snape, for that smile.

Remus prowled through the corridors, sniffing the air lightly. He had seen Ginny at the feast but she had blushed bright red and disappeared as soon as she could. He supposed he could ask Minerva to fetch her for him but he wasn’t sure he wanted to broadcast his predicament to her just yet.

Predicament – yes, that was precisely what it was. He sniffed again and smiled, following the scent around a corner and down another corridor. He paused at the closed door of a room marked “Study Area” and pushed it open.

Ginny, her eyes on her book, her hand wielding her quill with grim determination, was oblivious to his entrance. She was alone, he noted with relief.

“Miss Weasley,” he ventured softly. She jerked upright and her eyes went huge as she spied him in the doorway.

“Professor!” she squeaked as he shut the door behind him.

“I think we need to have a discussion, don’t you?” His tone was mild, but the youngest Weasley looked very much like a startled rabbit. He walked forward carefully, trying hard not to scare the poor child.

“I’m so sorry – I didn’t know the spell would choose you.” She spilled the words out so quickly that he almost didn’t catch them. He settled onto the bench across the table from her and leaned forward with the gentle face he had spent so many years perfecting.

“Miss Weasley, perhaps if you could start at the beginning?” Again, he kept his voice soft and kind. He had spent years learning how to not scare the people around him and the gentle lulling voice he used began to calm her quickly.

“They changed the age, sir, and my parents told me I could choose,” she blurted out and then took a deep breath. “I didn’t know what to do. I’m sixteen and I just didn’t feel up to making such a decision.” Tears trembled suddenly in her huge blue eyes and it occurred to Remus that she was rather pretty. Somewhere in the bustle of war and desperation he had missed this child’s maturation into something more resembling a woman. Still not fully grown but closer than he had realized.

“I can understand that,” he replied soothingly as she paused. A quick intake of her breath made it apparent that her body was definitely past puberty. He frowned internally, though he kept his face polite. Why was he reacting so strongly to her? He never had before.

“So I used a spell to make the choice for me.” Remus froze as his brain caught up with his libido.

“Delectus maritus optimus,” he murmured in sudden blinding comprehension. The girl’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“How did you know?” She asked her eyes wide.

“Because it is the only spell of its kind.” He wanted to shake the girl; he wanted to laugh and he was stunned to the depths of his soul. He looked into the huge blue eyes of his perfect mate with deep appreciation of the bitter humor that the universe was displaying. “Wherever did you learn it?” he asked with some of the grief he felt creeping into his heart.

“Tom taught it to me,” she whispered, her face porcelain white and her hair a flaming aureole around her face. She would be a truly beautiful woman one day and he wished that there were some way that he could live long enough to see it.

‘Tom’ would be Tom Riddle of course, he thought with a sigh. Was there anything pure and good in the entire world that hadn’t been destroyed by Voldemort in one way or another? “He said it wasn’t dark.” She sounded uncertain and he shook his head.

“It isn’t – Miss Weasley – actually dark, no.” Just filled with the kind of tragic irony that seemed to frame his life.

“I didn’t know it would choose you.” She sounded almost pleading and he reached out to gently pat her hand.

“There was no way to know the outcome before the casting of the spell,” he assured her and she seemed relieved. “Do you understand the nature of the spell?”

“It chooses your perfect husband?”

“Not quite. It is an ancient spell and it is more specific in that it reveals your soul mate.” Her mouth, all pink and perfectly shaped, dropped open in sudden comprehension.

“You’re my soul mate?”


“Apparently so, Miss Weasley.”

“Oh my,” she replied and he merely nodded completely in agreement with her rather appalled reaction.

“Any other questions?” Severus asked Hermione gently. He could see the Maiden’s Ease working on her; the slight flush to her cheeks and the small smile that was starting to turn up her lips.

“You said there were lots of rooms?” she asked, looking around at the library and seeing the other doors leading out of it.

“We can explore them tomorrow if you like.” He knew the time – it was ten already and he needed to be done with her by midnight. Two hours would be, he hoped, sufficient time to relax her and do what was necessary but he had to get her to the bedroom. He supposed he could do this in the library on the carpet in front of the fireplace but he suspected the event might sour her taste for the room.

Her lip trembled ever so slightly but she rose from the chair and nodded. He got up feeling old and sad and took her hand in his own. Despite the potion, her hand was cold in his and he felt a terrible pang of guilt.

“You can still back out, you know.” She raised her chin to look up at him as he spoke and gave him a brave smile.

“You are still my best choice, Severus.” It was little more than a whisper but her courage made him want to kill Fudge and Voldemort and every other of the cockroaches that had brought them to this.

He started to lead her along towards the bedroom and it occurred to him that he had never even kissed the girl. He paused and drew her to him. She looked shocked as he bent and dropped his mouth down onto hers.

Hermione saw it coming but was too surprised to do anything about it. His thin lips touched hers and their warmth surprised her. His mouth moved lightly over hers and it was a far more pleasant, if greatly surreal, experience than she had expected. She was married to the man, she thought in some mental disarray; perhaps she ought to see if she could kiss him.

Entirely in the spirit of scientific analysis, she tried kissing back. She parted her lips and felt herself leaning in towards him. She was fascinated by the way his breath quickened as she experimented.

His hands had been on her shoulders but now they slid down her back and pulled her against him. He was very tall and had to bend to reach her mouth. A ripple of fire wound down her belly into her groin as his hands shifted and she was so surprised by it than she jumped back out of the embrace.

His face was a little flushed and his breathing had gone ragged as she pulled away and the realization that she had affected him left her speechless.

They stared at each other for several uneasy moments and then he cleared his throat.

“If you will follow me.” He swept out of the room and she moved after him, half-dazed by the sudden realization that she might actually be aroused. Well, this was certainly an unexpected development.