Fame and Misfortune

Warning! Pet injury ahead. Hurting Crookshanks is essential to the plot. Just when Hermione thinks things can\'t possibly get worse, they do.

A/N – There are not enough words in any language to express my gratitude to my beta readers, Kathy Rose and Larilee. I still don’t own any of the Harry Potter universe. Thanks to all who reviewed. Reviews really do feed the muses. I think I answered them all.

--

Adjusting her bag, Hermione walked into the foyer and dropped her keys on the table.

“Is that you, Hermione?” her mother called from the kitchen.

“Yes, mum!” she shouted, rolling her eyes. Who else could it be? Dad’s in the lounge and I’m the only other person with a key.

Hermione sighed. The rent is cheap. The rent is cheap, she mentally chanted. Not only was she living with her parents again, she was also working for them.

The Daily Prophet had had a field day with that story. Brightest Witch Takes Muggle Job!

She just had to bide her time and wait. Things would blow over and she would go back to St. Mungo’s. Over the past few months, she had received several generous offers of employment. Most of them had seemed to be too good to be true, and they were. Those wizarding establishments had only wanted her for the publicity.

Hell! She had even considered going to work for George and Fred, she was so desperate to get away from her parents. It’s not that she didn’t love them. It’s just that they tended to smother her.

She put on her best smile and strolled into the kitchen. “Hi, Mum.”

Her mother was drying her hands. “Did you find the books you were looking for?”

“Yes,” mumbled Hermione with forced enthusiasm.

“Oh, darling,” her mum chattered. “Keep your chin up. I know things may look bleak now, but Harry will set things right. You’ll see.”

Feeling the frustration bubble to the surface, Hermione huffed. “How long am I supposed to hide, mum? It’s been five months since I started getting those letters.”

Jane Granger sighed heavily and hugged her daughter, offering no words of comfort. There was nothing left to say.

She pulled away and clapped. “You got a letter today! This ought to cheer you up. The mail carrier dropped it off. It seems thick.”

Giving her mother a nervous smile, Hermione fingered the envelope nervously. “Maybe it’s from Mabel,” she said excitedly, referring to a Muggle friend from grammar school, and opening the letter.

Unfolding the pages of the letter, she froze – her eyes wide with terror as she recognized the handwriting.

Dearest,

I realize that you are Muggle-born. That was one of the things that drew me to you. Your Muggle roots are nothing to be ashamed of. I admire your courage and desire to embrace both our worlds. I love you so much that I am willing to live in a Muggle neighborhood and raise our children in a manner your parents will approve. I’ve even sent this letter though Muggle post.

I only hope we will have time alone before the children come along. You’re never alone. There are always people around you. When we are together, no one will disturb us. Of that, I am sure.

Faithfully Yours,
Your One True Love

Hermione crumpled the letter in her hand.

Her mother’s face fell. “What is it, dear?”

Tears fell down her cheeks as she started to cry. “When will this end? When will they catch him? It’s bad enough he cost me my post at St. Mungo’s, but to send the letters here?”

Wrapping her arms around her, her mother started to rock her back and forth, making comforting noises.

A loud repetitive bang sounded down the hall, causing both women to jump.

“Just a minute,” they heard her father shout.

Hermione withdrew her wand and ran toward the front door – panic overpowering reason. She wasn’t going to get to the door in time as she heard the click.

“Hello, Harry,” she heard her father greet the young Auror.

Hermione could hear the panic in her friend’s response. “Where’s Hermione?”

How could he have known about the letter so quickly?

“I’m here, Harry,” she called out to him as she rounded the corner into the foyer.

His green eyes were just as wild as his hair and his glasses were askew. “Where’s Crookshanks?”

Hermione hesitated, growing more confused. \"He\'s upstairs,\" she said.

Putting his glasses to rights, Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

“Why are you asking after my cat?” she asked uneasily.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “We intercepted another letter,” he replied, holding the unwelcome letter between them. “In it, he says that you’ll have to get rid of your cat before --”

She didn’t hear the rest of the stalker’s letter as she rushed up the stairs and into her room. “Crookshanks! Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Come to mummy.”

Hermione could feel the tears well in her eyes and swiped at them angrily. She pulled the duvet from her bed, searching desperately for her pet. “Oh, Gods!” A pitiful meow from her closet quickly tempered her blind panic.

Opening the door to her closet wider, Hermione knelt on the floor and moved some clothing out of the way.

Ginger eyes blinked at her as he started to groom himself. Relief flooded through Hermione as she picked up Crookshanks.

The cat yowled, sinking his claws into her arm and struggling to get away.

“Ouch!” shouted Hermione as she dropped him.

Crookshanks scurried with an odd limp across the room.

“Crooks?” She tried approaching him. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong with him?” her father asked behind her.

“I-I don’t know,” she answered helplessly, a million scenarios running through her mind.

“When was the last time he went outside?” Harry asked, kneeling next to her and reaching for the cat that hissed and swiped at the Auror’s hand.

“Is he bewitched?” her father asked. “Possibly poisoned?”

“I don’t know!” Hermione shouted in frustration. “I don’t know.”

Harry stood up. “I’ll Floo Hagrid.”

--

“Yeh be right mean too if yeh’d gone an’ broke yeh leg,” Hagrid said as he ducked his head, coming down the stairs. “But I gives him a potion an’ he’ll be right as rain in a day ‘er two.”

“Any idea how he broke his leg?” Harry stood by the window in the lounge.

“Coulda been any number of things,” Hagrid mused. “He’s comes an’ goes as he pleases. He coulda caught his leg on anything.”

Hermione took little comfort in her fellow Order member’s words. It was just too coincidental. The letters were becoming more obsessive, more personal, as though the person who was stalking her was actually acquainted with her.

She hadn’t read the letter that had sent Harry over here. She didn’t need to. Too many people had been hurt already. Several patients on her ward had developed a rash due to the magical ivy her stalker had sent.

His letters always alluded to the other people in her life. He wanted her alone – “his perfect love.” This was the kind of thing of which Muggle horror movies were made.

She needed to end this, to establish some sense of normalcy in her life. When the letters started coming, she had considered the Fidelius Charm. But that wouldn’t work. The stalker would haunt her friends and family, searching for her Secret-Keeper. At least, that was what Kingsley had said.

“Hermione?” Harry’s questioning voice broke through her reverie.

Shaking her head, she smiled weakly. “Yes?”

“I asked if you would have a problem if we stationed a couple of Aurors outside your house.” Pulling the drapes open, Harry looked out the window.

“Yes, yes,” the Grangers agreed together, answering the question that was meant for their daughter. “We would appreciate any help, Harry.”

“No,” Hermione said determinedly.

“Hermione, be reasonable,” Harry urged. “The lunatic has threatened Crookshanks.”

She shuddered, having yet to read that particular letter.

“He’s escalating.” Waving her Muggle-sent letter, he knelt in front of her. “He wants you alone. He’s even talking about children, for Merlin’s sake!”

Hermione jumped up, accidentally knocking Harry on his rump. She was suffocating, a sensation that had become all too familiar lately, and it sent the sensible witch into a panic. What could she do? She had nowhere to go, yet the desire to flee to protect the ones she loved was overwhelming.

“I wish I was back at Hogwarts,” she mumbled under her breath, naming the only place she had ever truly felt safe.

“What was that, dear?” her mum asked.

“Hogwarts,” she sighed. “I wish I were back at Hogwarts.”

--

“I must be out of my mind,” Hermione mumbled as she walked down the chilly corridor and into Severus Snape’s domain.

It had been a week since Crookshanks’ injury and Muggle-sent letter – a week of jumping at every sound – a week of worrying about her parents. Whoever her stalker was, he was from the magical community. He was concise, never leaving enough clues as to his identity.

Harry had been true to his word, rotating Aurors to watch her parents’ house round the clock. It just so happened that those same Aurors were members of the Order – Tonks, Kingsley, Moody, and Harry – all people she cared for dearly.

Snape\'s proposition played in her dreams, taunting her with the possibilities offered by such a marriage. His offer was self-serving and ludicrous, but it had its merit. He had stipulated that they wed, consummate the marriage, and go their separate ways.

Today, she would accept his offer and see if she could flush the stalker out. She was tired of living like a hunted animal.

Madam Pomfrey had graciously agreed to offer her an apprenticeship. She would have a small stipend and a place to stay – the safest place to stay. Hogwarts was a fortress. That was why Voldemort never attacked it.

Sighing as she reached her destination, Hermione squared her shoulders and entered the Potions classroom, painfully aware that the only sound was the clicking of her boots upon the floor. She tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear and kept walking, her eyes focused on the dark figure hunched over his desk, marking essays with a ferocity that she remembered all too well. He didn’t bother looking up.

She cleared her throat and touched her hair nervously. His words about her appearance had stung. Her hairstyle hadn’t changed, but it was more manageable. Her figure was the same, but she felt that the new robes she’d bought hid her curves better. Her makeup was so minimal that even she could barely tell she had it on.

“Go away,” Snape commanded with a wave of his hand.

“As pleasant as ever, I see,” Hermione snapped defensively. “It’s amazing you have sixth and seventh years still interested in Potions.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise – his surprise quickly covered by a sneer. “Miss Granger.”

“Professor Snape,” she replied, fidgeting with the folds of her robe.

His opaque eyes ran the length of her figure.

Feeling her mouth go dry, Hermione licked her lips.

Snape looked down and marked the essay he was grading with a mean swipe. “Well?”

“I-I…um…” she hesitated, suddenly wondering what had possessed her to come here.

Tossing his quill down and pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape sighed. “Merlin’s beard! I cannot believe my horrific misfortune. I suffered seven years with you in my class and couldn’t silence your constant dribble, and now you can’t speak?”

Taking a calming breath, Hermione glared at him. “I’ve reconsidered your offer,” she blurted out, then held her breath.

A look of conceit crossed his features.

Oh, Gods! This was a mistake. She started to back away. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Wait.” The one-syllable word was spoken so softly, Hermione almost didn’t hear it.

Severus stood, his chair scraping the floor loudly. “Why have you reconsidered?”

Her pride bruised, Hermione looked down. “This was a mistake. I should go.” Perhaps casting the Fidelius Charm and never seeing any of her friends and family again was preferable to this desperate act.

Walking around the desk, he reached for her, grabbing her wrist and stopping her retreat. “Running away isn’t a very Gryffindor trait,” he taunted.

Yanking her arm out of his grasp, Hermione’s eyes flashed. “Even Godric Gryffindor knew when to retreat.”

“You’ve already made the effort,” Snape stated sharply.

“You’re right,” she retorted. “Why shouldn’t I totally humiliate myself? After all, I’ve come all this way.”

He smirked, but did not reply.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Hermione looked at a point on his shoulder. “About a year ago, I started receiving letters.”

“It’s been five years since Potter disposed of the Dark Lord,” Snape stated dully. “Surely you received letters before then.”

Irritated over the interruption, Hermione met his gaze and glared at him. “As I was saying… I started receiving love letters from a fan.”

Snape snorted.

“Would you please refrain from interrupting me?” she snapped.

Severus cocked his head to one side and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Over time, the letters became explicit and things started happening.” Hermione shuddered with memories. “He’s obsessed and becoming increasingly threatening.”

Snape nodded his head for her to continue.

“He’s the reason I was sacked.” Her voice caught and she willed the tears away. “He even sent a letter via Muggle mail. Harry suspects that he even injured Crookshanks. I…I’m afraid for my parents.”

Remaining as aloof as ever, he leaned against his desk. “And how will marrying me assist you?” His barely-audible voice sounded disinterested.

Anger flashed in her eyes as it bubbled to the surface. “I want to flush that bastard out.”

Severus nodded his head, no longer meeting her gaze. “I see.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione waited.

--

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” Severus stated with little enthusiasm. “In order to protect your loved ones and ‘flush’ your obsessive admirer out, you’re willing to sacrifice me.”

“Precisely,” she asserted quickly, blushing. “I mean…I want to –”

“There is no need to sugarcoat your intentions,” he stated with a flick of his hand as he walked behind her. He could sense her fear. He didn’t need Legilimency to see her distress.

“And what if I’m the stalker?” he sneered cruelly.

Hermione snickered. “Because you made your opinion of my attributes perfectly clear during your proposal. My stalker may be barmy, but he is eloquent in his admiration for my wild hair and plump figure.”

Putting his hands behind his back, Severus paced around the young witch who could put a damper on the media’s speculation. Some of the house-elves had even hit on him. Other than righteous indignation, he could do little about Skeeter’s public attacks. The bloody ink slinger was vicious. Just when he thought the scandal was behind him, Skeeter would dredge the falsity to the surface.

“And just what would I get out of this arrangement?” he questioned, unable to resist the urge of tormenting his former student.

Hermione squared her shoulders in defiance. “Positive publicity. I would pretend to be besotted with you, playing the doting wife, and dispelling any new rumors the media may –”

“I’ve heard enough, Miss Granger.” Walking around his desk, he gathered his robes, sat down, and picked up his quill. “Meet me at the Ministry tomorrow morning.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

Rolling his eyes, Severus set his quill down and sighed. “I refuse to insult either of our intelligence by romanticizing this arrangement. Surely you don’t expect me to get down on one knee and declare my undying love?”

The Gryffindor witch turned scarlet and started sputtering. “Of c-course not!

“Very well then,” he replied dispassionately. “I’ll arrange for the marriage license. Meet me in the Atrium at eight o’clock.”

******