The Gilded Cage

neelix- Rickman is not my Snape. I love him dearly, but I don’t envision him when I read/write. I’m glad you found the humor in it. He can rub anywhere he pleases.
Lady_of_Clunn- Slag Tag is brilliant! Pretty colors indeed.
T Stevenson- I would have used the pocket knife then and there, he would not have enjoyed it. Well, perhaps not, but I’d want to. I’m glad you like a Ziggy Stardust Voldemort.
alm1067- No, I’m just here for a 2 week class. And they are frickin’ insane.
Carlieisastreetmonster- Well if you lose interest typically after 7 chaps I’ll have to work hard to keep you entertained, there are many more chaps planned/written.
Phoenix Rhapsody- Sorry, I already have one stalker, m’dear, you’ll have to apprentice with Gertie if you want to be me. Thanks I worried about putting a very different idea out there. I could have gotten raked over the coals on this one… might get it for this chap.
anncee- Didn’t see it? Good. Nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition.
HarryGinny4Eva- I’m a big fan of Champion Bollocksers. It’s the goodliest word I’ve never heard.
Jesse Thanks!
CB13- Oh no, I can’t apologize for it. It is what it is, and unlike Madonna I can’t suddenly change who I am, even if I find the accent ‘nifty.’
Voracious- Absolutely. I wish I had given myself more time to develop those thoughts instead of just throwing a hint of it out and moving on, but I had so much more that I wanted to cover. But that’s exactly how I believe the dynamic works.
le Valkyrie- I firmly believe if there’s a way to get stoned/high on something, some idiot has figured out how. It was a different idea, and I was worried it wouldn’t work, but I’m very happy that it’s gotten such a good reception.
Hermione Snape- I don’t know if the predisposition is inherent with everyone, but certain personality types do gravitate to such activities. Then again, most people if given an illegal order from someone in a position of authority will not rebel against it because we’re programmed not to question perceived authority. Good argument.
Slytherin-princess- Thank you so much for the offer.
Gertie- If you get any good ideas, please share ‘em. I was thinking an ipod pre-loaded with his favorites. I guess that would be a ’09 equivalent of a mixed tape. But also because he can’t figure out how to download mp3s. Sorry, when you kidnap me and keep me hostage in your basement you can convince me to like foam, until then no-foam.
Killer Kadoogan- I keep getting lost and finding myself in a cow pasture in the middle of a city, but other than that, it’s pleasant. *pitches snowball*
Elisheva Nadir- Thank you dear heart. I’m thrilled you’re enjoying it.
rainonmidnight- Just more to read when you come back!

*waves Terrible Towel at CB13 and pittwitch*


*

Chapter 31 - Cacoethes Scribendi


“So… Voldemort’s so-called rule was much different the second time around,” she mused out loud. “I bet that’s why Fudge thought he could handle him quietly himself.”


“Quite. Fudge was a fool to underestimate the Dark Lord. It was by fluke that he died the first time; to expect he’d so readily give up power again was stupid on an epic level. The Dark Lord reincarnated himself into something that was not human. Second time around it was all rum, sodomy, and the lash. Much like joining the Royal Navy, I’m told. I’d have blamed too much coke, but ripping one’s soul apart has a profound effect on the psyche to which even drugs can’t compare. I should know.”


Hermione’s entire body went rigid and she felt a heavy stone drop in the pit of her stomach, “You made a Horcrux?” she whispered.


“What? No… life-debt.” Severus riffled his hand through his stringy locks looking just as stressed and on edge as she felt. “I told you before; I owed a life debt to James Potter.” Severus jerked his head up waiting for her reaction, but she showed none.


Through clenched teeth Severus slowly bit out, “This is why I’m pissed Hogwarts teaches the students nothing about our world, though any Pure-blood wouldn’t need an explanation. I owed him a life debt, then I was responsible for his death.”


“Indirectly,” Hermione piped up.


“Immaterial. It doesn’t matter how many times I throw myself between Potter and whatever beast with great big gnashing teeth he wants to make friends and cuddle with, or life-threatening puerile shenanigans he decides to get into; it’s a debt I can never repay. To die with that kind of black mark means spending an eternity in purgatory. I imagine I probably should live it up a bit in this gilded cage, knowing where I’m going.”


“I really don’t believe that. God is not that cruel; through penitence and acts of contrition you can receive redemption.”


“Hermione, your Muggle is showing.”


She waved him off, “God doesn’t judge wizards differently than he does Muggles. He loves us all entirely, regardless of ability. He wants us to atone for our sins and learn to become better people.”


Severus shook his head and set aside her foot. “I’m not going to get into a philosophical debate on morality and the nature of the universe, not when you’re applying a Muggle value system. It suffices to say in the wizarding world, I’m entirely fucked.”


Hermione couldn’t accept the very notion that God treated wizards and Muggles dissimilarly or held them up by different standards. Perhaps it was her ignorance in his belief system, or her own heavy handedness in imposing her own values on another, but Hermione couldn’t accept that Severus would be written off as unredeemable by an unjust and uncaring God as he’d been by wizarding society. Obviously, Severus was wrong.


Her church may have dictated that she sit in uncomfortable pews and sing terribly uninspired dirges, but her God was beautiful. The Divine had endless compassion and mercy. She fundamentally believed God understood human failings and loved all regardless of the disappointing choices humanity made, but she wasn’t about to preach that to him. Hermione had a reputation for being bossy and pushy, but not preachy. If Severus wasn’t willing to accept the truth as she saw it, maybe she could guide him towards it in a roundabout and Slytherin way.


“If you’re so fucked, what are you doing in jail then? You said it yourself, you keep yourself here. I have every confidence you could escape if you wanted to, so why don’t you? Instead of living it up in this gilded cage, as you so aptly put it, why not live it up on the outside? Why not get on with the sinning while the sinning is good?


“I think,” she concluded triumphantly, “that you really believe redemption is possible, and that this,” she waved her arms wide to encompass the small cell, “is your self-flagellation.”


Severus’ eyes narrowed. “Surely you aren’t naïve enough to believe that the morality of right and wrong is only tied by religion. Even secular humanists believe in and abide by the law.”


“Alright, I can concede that point.” She waited patiently for him to make another. She wanted to hear his next argument to continue the debate, as she was just warming up to the topic, but Severus sat in speculative silence. Apparently the question was no longer up for discussion.


As Hermione’s busy brain clicked over the possibilities for a good heated discussion, she became acutely aware that she was woefully unprepared to have it. Severus had made a good point; a Hogwarts education did not include much on magical culture.


She knew that most wizarding folk practiced what appeared to her as an incoherent blend of mono- and polytheism with no proverbial dogmatic strings attached. Admittedly, Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how it all worked out, but it was oddly disconcerting to hear Roman epithets like ‘Sweet Juno’s jugs,’ or ‘By Circe’s pigs,’ casually sworn on Christian holidays.


Not that disturbingly colorful descriptions of Merlin’s anatomy were any better. Hermione always wondered if the ice-entombed wizard was rolling in his proverbial frozen grave every time some snot-nosed wizard swore by his hairy testicles.


Hogwarts really did nothing to introduce these things to Muggle-borns, or even the general student population. There was of course Muggle Studies as an elective, but wizarding studies began and ended with History of Magic, which focused entirely on this-and-that-such Goblin rebellion. In a moment of realization, Hermione felt bereft, a sense of loss and mourning for the learning that never was.


Severus sat uncomfortably, unsettled by the fire in her gaze and the veracity of her impassioned speech. Ideologically speaking, the chit had a reasonable argument, but how was he to explain to her, ‘I'm in Azkaban because I feel like it,’ and not sound like an ill-tempered three year old? Or worse, a coward.


It was all quite simple. Severus had lived under the thumb of two masters, ignoring the wise old adage that ‘a man cannot serve two masters,’ and thus he did away with one. Regrettably, it wasn’t the one he would have preferred to kill, and now he didn’t want to live with himself. There, that sounded reasonable enough without going into detail about the nightmares, retching, and the fond fantasy that an overlooked Dementor still lurking in the abandoned bowels of Azkaban would come upon him and snog him soundly.


“I still think you’re being unnecessarily harsh on yourself. Even if you believe there’s some shred of a chance that you’ll be granted a reprieve from whatever deity you believe in, shouldn’t you be spending your days performing acts of loving kindness instead of sitting here?”


“Oh? You really believe redemption is possible for a murderer? Is there nothing sacred in your fantasy world of good and evil? Can you really not accept that there is a threshold? A line that should not be crossed? Taking a life is unforgivable, hence the Unforgivables. Even your little book states it quite plainly, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”


“Murder,” she huffed. “It’s ‘Thou shalt not murder,’ and you plainly did not murder Professor Dumbledore or the Potters.”


“Semantics,” he dismissed with a casual wave. “And just what does your book say are the consequences for such a sin?”


Hermione screwed up her face. The commandments were a part of Deuteronomy, but she didn’t remember any holy warning label attached for breaking them. Leviticus covered law itself, and had never been one of her strong suits. Leviticus seemed to be all about tabernacles needing to be built with so many cubits of acacia wood, and how much grain to leave at the corners of fields.


“Damn,” she muttered to herself. What were the consequences of breaking one of the biggies? As far as she knew, it was a moot point as long as one confessed and asked for forgiveness. Hermione mentally snorted thinking it was unlikely that Severus would have an eleventh hour Come-to-Jesus meeting. Did that mean his soul was damned?


‘Thou shalt not murder’ was even one of the Seven Noahide Laws. Yep. It was a pretty big one. It was up there with ‘Honor thy Father and Mother.’ Shit. Yet another reminder that she was probably going to hell herself. Leaving her memory-modified parents in Australia probably wasn’t the kindest thing a daughter could do. Oh well.


She eyed Severus critically. At least she’d have good company in hell.


Severus broke through her mental meandering, “Since it’s obvious you don’t have a ready answer, I’ll supply one. By tradition, I’m probably destined to continually roll a rock up a hill, or have my eyes and entrails repeatedly clawed out for all of eternity, or until one of the Gods decides to take pity on me.


“By the Catholic Church, my fate is all hellfire and damnation unless I confess every last sin I've made, snack on some wafers, and let some skypilot throw water on my head. The Protestants… I suppose it’s more of the same, depending on the brand of malarkey. The Jews really aren't sure about their afterlife, and don't speculate on it much, but believe evil souls are blinked out of existence entirely, which may be the most pleasant outcome I could hope for. And under Islam it’s again with the hellfire, although I do have to make some attempt at crossing a bridge the width of a single hair. But there is a post script with most all of them, that if I spend only half of an eternity or so groveling in purgatory, I may be forgiven.”


Severus looked up at her patiently, ready for the next volley even though Hermione looked completely nonplussed. He wondered what she needed in order to drop her line of inquiry. As much as he admired the girl for her, ‘Never take No for an answer’ mentality, it was wearing thin.


Did she honestly think that he hadn’t contemplated eternal questions about the path to redemption? He was sitting in prison. Every man waxed and waned on his destiny while doing porridge.


“So basically, what you’re telling me is that wizards just follow Greco-Roman traditions.” Was it really necessary to be so cagey about it?


“You, woman, are impossible! Do you stay up all night working on ways of tormenting me, or does it just come naturally to you?”


“Naturally, I suppose,” she responded with a shrug. A simple ‘yes or no’ answer would have sufficed. Hermione didn’t exactly know why she was smiling; only that she had somehow gotten one over on him and that was reason enough.


“Incredible. And here I’ve been congratulating myself for knowing what buttons to push to annoy you. I should have been taking notes from the Master. Just because the wizarding world has an unnatural affinity for all things Roman, or at the very least atrocious Latin, does not mean we all pray to Roman gods. Or did I somehow miss the burnt offerings and fertility rituals on the Quidditch pitch?” Actually, if he’d been quite honest with himself and Hermione, he had seen plenty of fertility rituals taking place under the Quidditch stands, and Hagrid’s rock cakes would have passed for a burnt grain offering any day.


“So Professor,” she said stressing his title, “if I’m so blasted ignorant, teach.


For a fraction of a moment Severus looked completely bewildered before he composed himself. “It’s simple. A witch or wizard is expected to chose the manifestation of the God or Goddess, or both, that has meaning to them and adds value to their lives. If they choose to utilize the Christian deities then they may do so…”


“Deity.” Hermione butted in. “The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are one.”


“I’ll leave that one for debate another night. Stop interrupting. The point is the manifestation of the Divine on earth has to be meaningful to the individual or the rituals involved in worshipping are meaningless. Shall I now lecture you on intention in magic?”


“No, go on Professor..”


“Don’t get snippy, girl, you asked.” Once Hermione looked properly chastened he continued. “The wizard is then expected to abide by the traditions and demands of his Deity. It’s simple… or not,” he added with a frown.


“And your chosen Deity would expect you to continue to live like this, and then torture you more after death?” she asked with a bewildered expression. “What kind of God did you choose?”


“That’s personal!” he snapped.


After a moment of squirming Severus grudgingly admitted to following Roman traditions.


“I think…” she finally spoke, lost in thought, “I think you should write a book.”


“A Death Eater tells all?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow, confused by her non-sequitur. “You think I’d fuel public gossip and impugn my right to privacy by airing dirty laundry and all the sordid details of our debauchery? Do I look like a man without shame?”


“You said it, not me. Personally, I think it would be cathartic, and yes, a Death Eater tell-all would sell copy,” Hermione tapped her finger thoughtfully against her lips, “But to be quite honest, even though 'history' has already been written by the victors, I had no idea about half the things you’ve just told me. Why not write the story about the other side of the war? Everybody has heard enough about the heroes. Not to mention you really are the last Death Eater. Your entire cell block is full of lifeless bodies; your story will die with you. I’m actually pretty certain you’re the only conscious prisoner in the long term inmate ward.”


It had taken her a bit to figure it out, but Hermione finally came to the correct conclusion as to why she never saw any other visitors and why the boys let her practically have the run of the place. It was enough to give anyone serious freakin’ creeps.


“An oversight, I’m sure. The moment any word of my condition gets out the Ministry will no doubt rectify that,” he sneered. She rolled her eyes.


“It wouldn’t have to be a trashy tabloid tell-all, and that’s not what I’m getting at either. I think you have a story to tell, a fascinating story by the way, so why not set it straight? Besides, nobody said you had to get published; that’s not necessarily the point of writing. I just think it would give you something productive to do, and I know seeing things sorted out on paper always gives me perspective. You could benefit from that.”


Her idea had captured a bit of his imagination, even as Hermione’s mouth was moving; a narrating voice in his head was talking. He needed a quill… immediately.


Hermione smirked as Severus hastily launched himself off the bed, a tangling rush of limbs and robes as he made a grab for parchment and she downed the last dregs of her wine. She knew that intense expression he wore on his face; inspiration had struck him thunderously hard and he hadn’t even agreed to write it.


She made a mental checklist to bring him more writing supplies and to contact Luna immediately. He’d need a good editor if he was going to get published, and despite what she’d suggested Hermione was determined to have his story heard. She wasn’t one hundred percent positive that the public would sympathize with him, but even if a few witches and wizards were touched by his predicament, it would give him the hope he truly needed. Even if she couldn’t assuage the guilt he felt, humbled before his God, perhaps he could find some peace on earth, even in Azkaban.


Her only worry was inviting attention to her marriage. She would be risking a Ministry inquiry into the state of their relationship and her child production. The thought was enough to send panic racing into her bloodstream and make her stomach do somersaults. And yet, somewhere they had turned a corner. She intrinsically knew she was willing to risk more of herself for him. It wasn’t love. Well… no. Maybe. No. And she wasn’t going to start knitting him hats either, but it was something. A feeling without a name. And Severus was worth the risk.


Hermione quietly took her leave, smiling as she bade Severus goodbye, only to receive a grunt in return. ‘Oh, he has it bad,’ she cackled, only faintly concerned that his writing would interfere with the running of her/their business.


*

A/N:
Chapter title: Cacoethes Scribendi - An insatiable urge to write.

In this chapter Severus is cavalier and dismissive regarding religion. I believe that’s in keeping with the nature of his character, and not in line with my respect for religion (of my own and others’). The warning at the beginning of this fic was meant to cover this. If you want to address any issues with me, contact me offline, I can be contacted at apollinawrites@gmail.com. Flame postings will be ignored.

Another side note, the 'two masters' reference comes from Christian scripture as well, Matthew 6:24 and Luke 16:13. Thanks to Christev20 for pointing that out. I never knew where it came from.

This chapter also had to be seriously edited down. If you are a student of theology you’ll notice that I lightly brushed over, um… well… literally everything. Honestly, it’s the sort of subject that a single conversation just won’t cover it. I wasn’t trying to either. You could spend a lifetime reflecting on the subject.

Massive thanks to TenderQuaintWitch and Christev20 for proofing the theological ideas expressed.

Your concrit is appreciated. -AV