A law to herself

Chapter four

Hermione’s first thought was of Ron. He was available and he was keen, maybe even a little too keen. He’d always sort-of fancied her, but never come out into the open and asked her out; probably because he couell ell that her answer would be ‘no’. She liked him; just not like that. There had been a point last term when she thought he might finally do it, but the moment had passed. She was grateful; that sort of conversation never went well, no matter how tactful you tried to be, and Ron could sulk for England.

He was the obvious choice on the face of things, but the more she thought about it, the more problems she could see. Ron would want children, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring children into the world while this Law was in place, and certainly not for the next fifteen years; and it couldn’t be denied that they could argue like cat and dog on occasion. Marriage to Ron could kill their friendship in bitterness and anger.

Not to mention the fact that Ron wanted to be an Auror, like Harry; she wanted to campaign to change the Law. She intended to bring the tried and tested techniques of political protest to bear; there would be petitions, and sit-ins, and slogans and placards. She would chain herself to the gates of the Ministry if she had to. If she could find a horse to hurl herself in front of, she would; having first cast a charm to protect herself. There was no point being killed to make a point; she wasn’t that Gryffindor. She wouldn’t hesitate to use blackmail, bribery and corruption to get her own way.

Fudge wasn’t going to be happy about this, and it was pretty clear that he would do anything he could to shut her up. He certainly wasn’t above bringing pressure to bear on Ron or Arthur to shut her up; he might even sack them. So, she needed someone that Fudge couldn’t touch, someone so out of the reach of the Ministry that there was nothing they could do to them.

Malfoy? Except Lucius was trying to be whiter than white these days, and couldn’t afford to annoy the Ministry either or he could suddenly find himself back in Azkaban. He might even tip the Ministry off about her plans, and then where would she be?

Who then?

She carefully listed all of the Purebloods that she knew of in her year, adding in the elder Weasleys for good measure, and then all the Purebloods had had ever heard of or met. The list was surprisingly short.

She carefully eliminated all of the Deatheaters that were in Azkaban, anyone over 60 – she derived immense pleasure from crossing out Dumbledore’s name - and ae whe who worked for the Ministry directly. It was a mark of how bad times were that a reformed Deatheater – no matter how marginally reformed – was preferable to a Ministry employee. After all, they would have at least one thing in common – total opposition to the Marriage Law.

She then put question marks next to anyone who had links to the Ministry, and another question mark when she knew someone had a girlfriend. There was no point ruining three people’s lives. After this careful, logical process, there was one name that stared up at her with no qion ion marks. One name that was free of Ministry and Deatheater influence, and not hideously wrinkly.

Oh dear.

Professor Snape.

Still, leaving aside her initial reaction of wanting to run screaming out of the library, the more she thought about it, the more she thought it was a good idea. Always assuming that he could be persuaded to marry a student, a Gryffindor and his all-time favourite know-it-all. He’d been sympathetic this morning, but whether it would extend to making the ultimate sacrifice and entering the state of holy wedlock was quite another matter.

She headed off to find the Wizard’s equivalent of ‘Who’s Who’. There he was. Severus Saccheverel Snape – dear god, his parents must have hated him – Potions Master, Order of Merlin (1st Class), father Saccheverel Septimus Snape – that explained that then – (dec’d), mother Severine Tertia – blimey, and she’d thought Hermione was bad enough - Snape nee Tolleydon (dec’d). So no in-laws to worry about then; good.

She made a mental note that if children were ever to be brought into the equation, she would insist that she got the right of veto on their names.

No family residence listed, so he wasn’t rich then, but there was an impressive list of academic qualifications after his name and quite a few published articles as well. Hmmm, so not just an average teacher then.

The more she turned the idea over, the more it appealed. For all his assurances to the contrary, she thought that Ron still liked her, and not in the strictly platonic way. He probably hoped, somewhere so hidden that he wasn’t even aware of it, that they would get married, and over time she would mellow and they would fall in love and enter into a state of connubial bliss.

How likely was that though, when they couldn’t spend more than a couple of hours in each others company without squabbling likildrildren. Ron wanted what his parents had: cosy domesticity. Hermione thought that if she had to spend the rest of her life like that, one day she would probably snap and be found crouched in the corner of the kitchen, clutching a bloody knife and mumbling something about how they made her do it.

If they were lucky, it would only be the family pet that copped it.

The more she considered the idea of marrying Snape, the more it appealed. She couldn’t be accused of ruining his life by marrying him – he hadn’t got one to ruin, let’s fac. It. It wouldn’t blight his career, assuming that Dumbledore didn’t sulk too much, and how likely was it that he would sulk when he seemed to be issuing proposals like lottery tickets, only without a winning prize. Judging from Snape’s attitude towards his classes, he didn’t like children, so if she never succumbed to maternal urges, he wouldn’t be too disappointed, and if she did have a child, he wouldn’t be interested in raising it. Both Fudge and Malfoy were frightened of him, anilstilst Fudge didn’t worry her, she wouldn’t put it past Malfoy to do something nasty to her if she rejected his son.

Above all, she could rely on him not to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of hers. He wasn’t a Gryffindor, thank you very much, and not given to self-sacrifice and other heroics. He wouldn’t think twice about rejecting her proposal if it didn’t suit him to be married. All she had to do was convince him that marriage to her would involve nothing more than fifteen minutes in a register office, the use of his name, and, presumably, about three minutes to consummate the marriage.

That brought her up short. She would have to shag Snape, there would be no way out of that, but just the once. So that’s three minutes of lying back and thinking of, well, anything but sex – dentistry even – while he did what a man had to do, and then they wouldn’t even have to speak to each other again. Her previous experience of sex had been brief, unsatisfying and about as sensual as a wet haddock, so she knew she could cope with bad sex.

It was bearable; it might even be preferable to Ron. It had to be said, sex with Ron would be like sleeping with her brother, and it made her feel sick to think about it. Snape would be a stranger to her, and every Friday night muggles went out and got pissed and shagged complete strangers without any difficulty. And if the worse came to the worse, and neither of them could perform, they could always knock back some sort of Lust Potion – he was a Potions Master after all. A quick Obliviate the morning after, and they could go back to their lives completely untroubled by memories of a night of passion.

So, Professor Snape was perfect for the job. All she had to do was persuade the boys of this – Harry wasn’t likely to be happy, then get Dumbledore to withdraw his proposal, and then persuade Snape to marry her.

She wasn’t sure which of the three tasks would be the most difficult, but she had a nasty feeling it could well be persuading the boys that Snape was theal hal husband.

Fleetingly she hoped that Neville had been less annoying than usual in Potions this afternoon; she desperately needed Snape to be in a good mood this evening. She could take him the assigned essays and then – casually, very casually – drop into the conversation that she wanted to marry him.

That was going to go down well.

Still, it was better to get it over and done with this evening; it might take a couple of weeks to wear him down, so the earlier she started the better.

So, the plan of attack was: first, sort out the boys, then Snape and then Dumbledore. If Snape said no, then there was no point annoying the Headmaster just yet; and if Snape said yes, he could make himself useful and put all those Slytherin talents to use in sorting out the Headmaster.

No point keeping a Snake and plotting yourself.

She smiled to herself; this just might work.

“Harry, Ron, I’ve found something,” she hissed, anxious not to disturb Madam Pince, who was always looking for the chance to throw students out of the library. Her view was that they were only wearing out her lovely books, and that they really shouldn’t be allowed to touch them. She threw a quick glance over to the Librarian’s desk; sure enough, they were being watched.

Ron could see that Pince was waiting to pounce. “The Room of Requirement?” he whispered back.

Harry and Hermione nodded; good idea.

“I’ll leave my stuff here,” Harry said. “I’ve still got four feet to go.”

It took barely ten minutes to reach the Room of Requirement, and another five minutes to outline her idea – without mentioning her choice of husband.

There was an awed silence at the end of her explanation, broken only by Harry saying excitedly, “Hermione, you are a bloody genius. It solves all your problems. You marry Ron before your 18th birthday and you’re safe. We’ll have to get a move on though,” he added more thoughtfully, “there’s not long to go.”

“She doesn’t want to marry me, Harry,” said Ron very quietly.

Harry’s head came up, scenting trouble.

“I don’t think I do,” she replied, equally quietly.

Harry said nothing, but watched his friends with concern.

“Why not?” Ron sounded reasonabnougnough, but the painfully careful way he spoke showed just how desperately he was upset by her rejection.

Inwardly she sighed; she hadn’t expected him to take it well to start with, jus just hoped he could understand when she explained what the problem was. He flinched a little when she took one of his hands, but he listened carefully as she explained about the list, and why some people had question marks. He didn’t interrupt or fly off the handle; the old, impetuous Ron was a thing of the past and he’d matured into a shrewd strategist.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, still speaking in that distant, careful way. He stood up, pulling his hands out of her grasp, and began pacing backwards and forwards, the way he always did when he was trying to think. He stopped suddenly, obviously having reached his decision.

“I think you have a point Hermione, but I still think you’re wrong.” He didn’t look at her, but spoke to the wall in front of him.

“Ron,” she said, “if you can honestly tell me that you wouldn’t resent me if I never wanted children, that you wouldn’t hate me if you had to give up being an Auror, and that your family wouldn’t hate me if your Dad lost his job, then I’ll marry you.”

He looked at her then, saw the truth in her eyes, and maybe saw a little more. She didn’t love him, and didn’t think she could ever love him; if he decided to marry her after that, he couldn’t say that he hadn’t been warned. He’d go into this with his eyes open. “I’ll need to think it over,” he said.

“And whatever you decide has to be the best for both of us, not just me,” she replied. “I won’t be happy if I think I’ve ruined your life, Ron.”

He simply nodded at that.

“We’ll leave you to it then” Harry said softly. “I’ve got an essay to finish.”

“And I’d better write to my parents. One way or another, I’m about to get married. I think I’d rather break the news to them bit by bit.” Hermione wasn’t looking forward to telling her parents. They’d been enthusiastic in their support of her over the years, even allowing her to stay at school or at the Burrow so she could get to know her new world better; but this could be just one step too far.

Harry opened the door for Hermione, and then followed her through it. The corridor seemed very grey and chilly; Hogwarts was no longer the safe place they had supposed it to be.

“I’m sure he’ll make the right decision,” said Harry.

“I hope so.”

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get Snape to say yes?”

Hermione was disconcerted; she had expected Hato tto take Ron’s side. She was also a little relieved to have her judgement on the matter confirmed. Harry may not be the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer, but he knew both of them well. If he thought Snape was the better choice – particularly bearing in mind how much he disliked Snape – then Snape was the better choice.

How was she going to persuade the Professor that marriage to her was desirable. “I haven’t given it much thought,” she said. “I wonder what would persuade him? I don’t think an appeal to his better nature would work; he’s not exactly the knight in shining armour type.”

“Just tell him it would annoy Malfoy; that should work.”

Harry was only half-joking, but Hermione was impressed with the suggestion. It seemed the most likely tactic to work. After all, he lived to make people’s lives difficult. “That’s not a bad idea at all; in fact I ought to mention that Dumbledore proposed as well. It would be killing two birds with ones stone; I bet he’s been wanting to aggravate Dumbledore for years.”

“Dumbledore proposed?” Harry stopped walking and gaped at her.

“This morning, in the infirmary.”

“Good god. That’s revolting.” Harry put his finger down his throat and mimed being sick. “The filthy old pervert. I can see why you’re keen to be Mrs Snape now.”

“That’s Madam Snape to you, young man,” said Hermione, putting her nose up in the air. “And, in future, I expect to be treated with the proper respect and courtesy due to the name of Snape!”

“You know, you sound just like him. I think you’re going to get on wonderfully,” said Harry wryly.

“Thank you, Harry. I’m sure you’re right. We have so much in common,” she said grandly. “Our love for children, our sunny dispositions, our love of our fellow man, and the way we rush to help our fellow man.”

“Well the first bit’s right,” Harry said reasonably. “Neither of you like children much, though I don’t suppose that means that he wouldn’t want a son and heir. You know what these purebloods are like. You’re a bit nicer than he is, I grant you, but you can’t deny that he helped against Voldemort.”

“Of course I’m not saying that, don’t be silly,” she replied, mildly irritated.

“I’m just saying,” said Harry patiently, “that you do have things in common. I mean, you’re always complaining that you can\'t get any decent conversation in Gryffindor and that we’re all a bunch of uncultured barbarians. Maybe you and Snape will become friends.”

Hermione thought about it. There were all those articles he’d published; maybe they could find some common ground. She could see them sitting in front of the fire, talking about potions and art and literature. Mind you, she still thought the more likely scenario was chilly civility. It wasn’t how she had wanted to spend her married life, but it would still be an improvement on living with the Malfoys.

“Maybe,” she said. “We’ll have to see.” She shook her head. Whatever happened she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by mirages like that, but she felt vaguely wistful as they headed off to the Library for more research and to finish the essay for her fiancé to be.

Maybe she could look up one of his articles; it couldn’t do any harm.


A/N - well there weren\'t many surprises there were there? You\'ll never know how tempted I was to suddenly have her marry Draco, seduce Lucius and end up ruling the world.