The Gilded Cage

Rassgulla1 - Thank you, Hermione’s emotions can’t be stagnant at this point, it wouldn’t make sense. Nobody would only be angry, that’s just not human.
Voracious - I wanted to try something different for the Australian trip. It’s been written so many times in fanfic, but all about the same way, and then the idea of ‘Harmony’ came to me and it seemed right.
Alina - You’re right, it adds nothing to the plot, so it hangs oddly, but it’s resolving a guilt issue for her that’s been a dangling thread. And Hermione needs to understand the redemptive process for herself before she can begin to understand Severus. She’s ‘walking a mile in his shoes’ so to speak.
randc - Sorry love, and this chapter is all Severus.
katiekrm - Well, ya’ got me, Jake is quite fabulous! I don’t have any plans right now for Hermione to sit her NEWTs, but I do have plans for Severus to claim his witch.
anncee - Oh you are such drama, girl. Your heart can take it.
CB13 - No, not too much.
Heidi191976 - Thank you m’dear.
Darkless Vasion - Poor girl is overwhelmed, resolving the issues with Sev will go a long way to making her complete.
Draco_Lover - Yep, two continents are pretty far apart. I think Hermione wants him back as well, but she just doesn’t know how to get there.
neelix - That was the line that made you giggle? Sev will go free.
Rini - I put them in the reviews when there are too many of them to respond to on the main page. I figure you can get the Daily Prophet just about anywhere like you can The London Times and The Guardian. The memory charms failed because that was a different way of playing the scene than what’s usually written in fanfic.
Severusbabymomma - Read the next story? I have a few others I’m working on.
Phoenix Rhapsody - Thank you love.
jocat - He’s working on it.
HappyBer - *smirk* a bender on my fic. Fabulous! I’m so thrilled you like it.

*

Chapter 53 - Obesa Cantavit


“Yes Warden, I understand your point, but you’ve neglected to mention who ordered you to have the VWII inmates Kissed. Court records only indicate that they be held in pre-trial confinement.”


Warden Blotts had been accosted by several reporters all at once in the hallway outside the waiting room to Prisoner 11652’s retrial, and he stayed to talk with the esteemed members of the Press to get his photo in the papers. Accompanying the high-profile prisoner was a matter of garnering accolades for Azkaban. And if the papers happen to link his good name with his fine job of prisoner rehabilitation, then that was bully good, too.


The small gathering of barristers and solicitors inside the sterile Wizengamot waiting room could practically hear bullets rattling in the hallway. The reporters were gunning for answers after Deputy Undersecretary Percival Weasley’s damning report on the status of Kissed inmates had been accidentally leaked. And Warden Blotts was sweating profusely. He hadn’t anticipated they would question his integrity, or his ability to maintain order in the isolated prison. He was just there to stand proudly next to Prisoner 11652 and get his picture in the papers, but not like this. The reporters hadn't filled out interview request forms for him or submitted their questions in advance.


“You see,” he prevaricated while clearing his throat. “I never received any further word from the Wizengamot in all of this. It’s entirely their fault. They sent me hordes of inmates at once and never followed up with dates for trials. You really ought to be talking to them about their miscarriage of justice.”


“Oh Harold,” Rita cooed, placing her manicured hand gently on his arm. “It must have been so difficult for you to find space for them. How positively awful - your prison overrun with people everywhere, and no word on when they’d leave. Having them Kissed must have been the best solution.”


Warden Blotts sighed heavily and found sympathy in Rita’s golden green eyes. A port in the storm. Finally someone understood him. “It was months! Months after the Final Battle and still no word from the Wizengamot on their status. What was I to do? We didn’t have beds for all of them. The children all needed schooling. I don’t have the budget for schooling! I didn’t have the budget to feed them, but Kissed inmates are model inmates, and their nutritional packs are a good value. I was able to maintain Azkaban even under such adversity, and still not go over budget. They should have thanked me for all I did.”


“So they never were sentenced?” another voice spoke up.


“They would have been sentenced,” Warden Blotts spoke up hastily. “But the Wizengamot forgot about them; they fell under the post-war ad hoc committee. I had nothing to do with that. And I’m sure they would have received life sentences. That’s fairly standard for Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers. These people were irredeemable. Having them Kissed was an act of mercy!”


"Wait," another witch interjected. "Did you just say children were Kissed?


The silence in the hallway was unsettling as all eyes were on him. Warden Blotts scratched nervously at his neck where trickles of perspiration irritated his sensitive skin. Somehow he was positive they weren't going to be pleased by how many Galleons he had saved the Ministry.


"But they were Death Eaters..." he whined peevishly.


Severus grimaced and stared at his shackled hands while the Press jumped on Blotts. He had been a hair’s breadth away from being Kissed himself. With a simple filling out of request papers, the Warden could have had the Dementors transported into his cell. Only the Wizengamot’s original ruling had protected him. But for what? Six and a half years of emptiness?


Hermione had been right. This was not penance.


He hadn’t done a damn thing to anyone’s credit; he had simply resigned himself to being useless and wallowed in his own misery. There was a calming feeling, a satisfaction that came when the responsibility to make decisions was taken away. He had been responsible for so much in his life; it had been a relief to no longer make choices. In Azkaban he didn’t have anyone to disappoint and nothing to live up to. But he had deluded himself into thinking it served a greater purpose than his own selfish need for peace. Too late he realized what it had cost him.


The Wizengamot met again to decide his fate. This time the proceedings to acquit him took all of thirty minutes. He spent seventeen and a half of those minutes waiting outside for a verdict and listening to the Warden get castrated by the Press. He enjoyed listening to the ruckus in the hallway much more than the deliberation in the court room. Severus was ready to go home. Or at least to the Homestead. But there was one small matter to attend to before they would release him, a series of meetings with his Prisoner Re-entry Officer. It was an absurd new idea stolen from Muggle courts.


Ignoring his wishes on the matter, and the fact that he'd been declared a free man, Severus had to attend the sessions. It seemed like an insult. Innocent and free to go, but ordered to stay. He would have written a nastily worded letter to the convening authority, except every word he wrote, every form he filled out, appeared to get snatched up by plume-plucked witches who continuously batted their eyelashes at him. Severus had to sign his release forms six different times because they kept losing his paperwork and everything else he signed. The Mulciber boy even had to step in on his behalf. It was a good thing he was still wandless and shackled.


Before being given the dignity of his proper robes and wand, Severus was turned over to Re-entry Officer Cole, a witch he recognized as an ex-student. His fate in the hands of an ex-student wasn't an inspiring thought.

*****

Elizabeth Cole was a witch quite accustomed to being overlooked. At five foot-ish, unless in her impossibly high wedge sandals, the average brunette did not stand out. In school, her mates hadn’t paid much attention to her. She wasn’t the sort of girl to be the center of gossip. She was neither caught with the wrong sort of wizard, nor created a fabulous scandal. That, and the freckled girl was nice, which made her rather uninteresting for Slytherin House. Her name and photo appeared in her yearbook with only a brief mention as a member of the Toad Choir.


On the whole, the unnoticed witch passed through seven years at Hogwarts without a bother, and few of her mates remembered her. But Severus Snape remembered her, and she had not forgotten him, either.


Now, as he looked through haunted eyes at the vaguely familiar witch with a clipboard, he idly catalogued that time had matured her features. Her green and silver painted toenails sticking out from the bottom of her robes cast dubious aspersions regarding her maturity, but Severus didn’t much care.


Elizabeth cleared her throat gently and watched her ex-professor with a slight frown. He seemed far too unresponsive to be healthy. “Firstly,” she began, smoothing down her robes as she sat in the counselor’s chair in front of her patient, “I’d like to thank you for your willingness to meet with me.”


Severus raised an unamused eyebrow which conveyed quite thoroughly that he had no choice in the matter. Cleared of all charges, and set free pending a mental health evaluation by the Prisoner Re-entry Officer. His Prisoner Re-entry Officer, who was staring at him like he was a tempting piece of dark chocolate.


“To begin the evaluation, I’d like to ask what your plans are after release. Do you have a home to go to? Do you need a place to stay?”


“Miss Cole –”


“Please,” she interrupted, “this is a therapeutic environment, and you may call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy, just as I’ll try to make you more comfortable by calling you Severus, or Sevvie... or not," she quickly amended upon seeing his poisonous glare.


“I’d much prefer to remain formal. Nearly six years in Azkaban may have left me a bit rusty in dealing with the outside world."


“Of course, Mr. Snape,” Elizabeth winced. This was not at all going to her plan.


Elizabeth was a Drug and Potions Abuse Counselor, a career field track her former Head of House had encouraged her to pursue. He had never made her feel ignored or insignificant. And when she had once expounded on a theory regarding homeopathy, he hadn’t sent her away. Instead he listened carefully and put her in touch with the right Master for her to Apprentice under.


Life had brought Elizabeth full circle, and she was finally in a position to help him out. Naturally, it didn’t hurt that she had developed the smallest crush on her Potions Professor. A crush that hadn’t gone away with time and had only become stronger with the release of his book. Ex Intempestivo Pax was as brilliant as the wizard who had written it.


“Well, where were we? That’s right,” Elizabeth nervously took a glance at the hastily scrawled notes on her clipboard, and cleared her throat, “Home? Do you need a place to stay? I’ve been informed that your house has been condemned. The Muggle authorities have plans to level the block and put in an overpass.”


Severus Snape neither moved nor twitched. After being informed that his home was in the process of getting leveled to build a road, he remained impassive. Elizabeth marked this observation down; it was disquieting. According to the preliminary research she’d done, it was the only property he had claim to, but then Elizabeth hadn’t done a records search on ‘Half-Blood Prince’ either.


It would be unprofessional to offer him a place to stay at her house right off the bat. But she imagined as they adjourned the session, she’d place a warm comforting hand on his shoulder and kindly offer her guest bedroom.


“I have a house to go home to,” he responded after a moment, his eyes briefly in pain. Hermione wasn’t there. She’d left just as quickly as she’d moved in. Without her it wasn’t much of a home.


“Alright,” Elizabeth shook her head and made another notation. “Job then? Do you have any prospects for employment or require assistance?”


“I’m self-employed.”


And wasn’t that the largest irony of his life. Whatever Hermione touched turned to gold. She couldn’t help but make money left and right. She stumbled and created wealth. She had cunningly sold off his lichen stock while retaining much of the day-to-day house-elf operations to continue to make a profit. The book she had prompted him to write and publish had turned him into a very rich wizard overnight. Severus had want of nothing. If he decided to spend the rest of his days unproductive and living like a Malfoy, he could. Not that it would bring her back… Hermione had her own fortunes, and she was not a witch to be bought by such things.


“Damn,” Elizabeth muttered to herself. This was getting a lot more difficult than she anticipated. He hadn't even really noticed her.


The Ministry didn’t have Prisoner Re-entry Officers, but Elizabeth had created the position herself after reading his book. It went to figure that eventually the wizard would want to be released, and then she’d be in a position to finally spend some quality time with him. Elizabeth was a nice witch, but that didn’t make her any less Slytherin. With the dissolution of his marriage, Elizabeth had believed she’d hit the jackpot, but looking at the wizard she barely recognized, she realized she’d miscalculated.


She had hoped they could easily engage in some playful banter. She’d tell him stories of giving Drug and Potions Abuse lectures to dunderheaded students and empathize with how difficult it had been for him to teach all those years. Elizabeth needed to keep chocolate on her just to refrain from choking an occasional thick-headed student. But these were things they had in common. And now that his wife was out of the picture, she was certain she was perfect for the dark, brooding Potions Master of her fantasies.


For one, he hadn’t even been married for a year. It was a Marriage Law marriage, which meant it wasn’t a love-match. And the Granger-witch, aside from being much too young for him, wasn’t even able to take him home at night. How was that for a real marriage? By Elizabeth’s figuring, she was in prime position to snag herself the biggest trophy husband of them all.


Except he was a mess.


They’d dressed him in his grey woolen prison robes, but she could tell that even if he were cleaned up, Severus Snape had lost his sheen. The wizard of her fantasies was, well, lackluster. And she was failing miserably at snaring him. Damn, and now she was stuck with being a Prisoner Re-entry Officer.


Elizabeth quickly concluded their counseling session and she marked his case file as complete. No additional follow-ups required. Which was a shame, because she had bought robes and strappy heels for at least six more sessions.


A bewildered Severus Snape made his way through the Wizengamot’s out-processing lines with Ffoulkes at his side. He stared at the hawthorn and dragon heartstring wand they presented him and blinked. It hummed in his hand, recognizing its owner and calling to his magic.


He could do anything now. Nothing but the limits of his magic could hold him back. For the first time in his life, Severus had a sprawling Manor house and the gold to bring it back to its previous splendor. He had all the time in the world to attend to it and do whatever he felt like. His future was laid out before him, and he found himself a man of many options and a wizard of means to pursue what pleased him.


As he Apparated to his Homestead, he only wanted his Hermione.

*****

His first impression of the Homestead was that he'd gotten horribly mixed up somehow. Perhaps he'd Apparated wrong, except that Severus never Apparated wrong, regardless of how out of practice he was. But the Homestead did not appear in any way, shape or form to be his manor home. For one thing, it was clean. Well, the elves had always kept it clean, but there was a fresh coat of cream on the walls in the entryway that brightened the room considerably.


Just then Ffoulkes Apparated next to him, briefcase under one arm, and a tattered over-sized carpetbag under the other. He'd stayed. Ffoulkes had offered to stay the night and possibly the weekend, and Severus tried to think of a decent reason to chase him off, but damned if he couldn't. Severus was losing his touch. It was taking extra effort just to be snarky.


"Ah, lovely," the solicitor remarked handing his packages off to an eager elf.


"I'd show you around," Severus remarked dryly, "but it appears my wife has seen fit to change a few things..."


He wasn't certain where anything was really; he'd only been in the home once before he shelled out the lion's share of his meager gold to purchase the slum. It was only after Hermione walked into his life that he'd had anything really in the bank. Just a bit in savings and a few stipends from old potions he'd patented; it was hardly enough to call a decent living, but he'd given it to her to reinvest in his ancestral home. His money pit. When it had come up for auction Severus had been the lone bidder, and he'd snatched it away for the minimum price. Nobody had wanted the decaying place; by wizarding standards it was just as much a hovel as Spinners End had been to Muggles. But it was his. Correction. Hers.


As he opened doors and peered into rooms with Ffoulkes, that singular fact overwhelmed him. Hermione had poured herself into bringing the old girl back to her former glory. Where places could be restored to original, she had, and parts that needed replacing were replaced. It was as simple as that, except it wasn't. Immediately, Severus knew she had overspent the modest budget he'd allotted her for the Homestead's upkeep in their marriage contract. By the looks of it, she'd gone over budget several times. Just as he wondered what on earth possessed her to do so, the answer crushed him. She'd moved in forever. This was to be their home, and as he gripped the doorway molding and swayed on his feet while peering into a cheerful nursery, anguish tore through his chest.


He couldn't see it. When he was locked away, he couldn't see beyond his cell. He couldn't envision Hermione's Homestead. He couldn't see the home life she talked about, it was too far removed, too far outside his ability to accept. Never once did he have someplace pretty to come home to, and a loving wife waiting for him. Those things only happened to other men. Not him. The Fates only strung him into their tapestry for amusement.


He took a lurching step into the children's nursery and could finally imagine Hermione bending over the crib putting one of their children down for the night. This was her home.


He had to find her.

*****

Damn Weasley girl had given him bad information. Hermione had lost her business, and had lived with Miss Patil - well, Mrs. Overton now - but wasn't living there any more. She'd been kicked out, and there was no forwarding address for Hermione. Severus Snape had never promised anyone he wouldn't resort to poisoning someone. It was a coward's method, but quite affective. And in the cases of Severus' more beloved poisons, it would be undetectable and 100% effective.


Had he a proper lab, Severus was quite sure he'd be brewing one for Mrs. Overton nee Patil. The chit had kicked his wife out on the streets, callously, and without a thought to her safety or well-being.


He sat fuming about the fire call that hadn't ended that girl's life. If only her Floo hadn't been warded to calls-only, he would have reached through the grate and strangled her himself. Though, given that he was just currently released from prison, Severus supposed committing murder was not the wisest course of action, and Hermione might not have appreciated the gesture.


Severus sat back on his haunches and contemplated his next move. Hermione had hopped around the Hogwarts' social network borrowing from friends and avoiding being seen in public, which he supposed was wise, given the asinine things they were printing about his wife. She did not deserve to be named 'Trollop of the Year.' Hermione had held him at arms length for months and hadn't even allowed him to cop a decent feel. She was not a trollop. She was his wife, goddamn it!


She'd managed to get their marriage annulled on the basis that he hadn't laid wand to her. Severus snorted as he brushed off the ash clinging to his knees. He'd managed to get in her once. Never mind that he hadn't been able to complete the deed, but he'd been there. That had to bloody well count for something.


The more Severus dwelled on the situation outside of Azkaban, the more incensed he became. The prison had rotted his mind. The conditioning of thinking oneself less than a person, a criminal, had seeped into his psyche. Azkaban had taught him he was a number. Prisoner 11652. Worthy of mushy peas and rotten half oranges. When he'd entered the prison he'd been emotionally weak and angry with himself for living when death had called to him. He had stayed much longer than he ought to have, clinging to his penance because it had made him feel like he was in control of his destiny. Now that he was in a position to look back on himself and the beaten wizard he had allowed himself to become, Severus was disgusted. No wonder Hermione left. He hadn't deserved her.


Perhaps not, but she wasn't blameless either. The Prophet trashed her good name, and for that he could kill them, but they weren't entirely wrong either. She'd done her share as well. And now she was remorseful.


"She ought to be!" Severus raged, pacing before the fire place.


"Did you say something?" Ffoulkes asked, peeking his head around the door.


Severus didn't want the pity he saw in the old Solicitor's eyes, but at the same time he didn't want to be alone either. Nor did he want to drive off another friend. He'd done enough damage by driving off Hermione. Why on Gaia's green earth had she given him an ultimatum? Hadn't she realized he hated ultimatums? That he acted contrary just to be contrary? No, Hermione was stupidly Gryffindor and certain of herself. She had been certain of their relationship and willing to stake everything upon it. Severus had been the damned fool who questioned it.


"My wife," he sighed heavily. "I can't locate her."


Ffoulkes furrowed his brow and rubbed his nose. If he had anything to say about him calling Hermione 'his wife,' he wisely kept his own counsel.


"Have you tried her assistant? I think every time Margret has booked an appointment with her, it's been through her assistant... Jeremy something?"


"Jacob," Severus corrected, a smirk pulling up one side of his lips. "Jacob Edwards." And Severus knew right then, he had her.


He got back down on his knees before the dusty Floo, dirtied by twenty different frantic Floo calls to locate his wife, and pulled the powder box closer to him. It was full enough for at least thirty calls, and he would hound the wizard all night if he had to.


It turned out that Jake didn't need coaxing to talk to Severus Snape. He was thrilled to get involved with, in his words, 'a super ooey-gooey plot.'


Severus heard how she was an utter wreck; it was not any news. Then he listened to Jake rattle on about packing her off to Australia. Severus was heartily not amused and would have threatened the wizard bodily, had he not assured Severus that she was returning in a few days, and that Jake would do all in his power to reunite the couple.


But first, Severus had to face the witch.


“Hm… you know," Jake went on gesturing quickly, "I bet I can export her Outlook calendar into Word and email it to you. Even if it won’t let me export, I bet I can copy and paste it.”


“I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re talking about.”


“Oh, well, you’re going to at least need her schedule if you hope to catch up with her. She’s been babbling on about marrying some long-in-the-tooth wizard with one foot in the grave, you know. So, if you’re going to run off and save the Princess you’d better get on it, sweet Knight.”


Jake pinched his brow. If Hermione discovered he was helping Snape, she'd put his bits in a blender. But the witch was off the continent and in no shape to decide what was best for her, he rationalized. Both were very sound excuses for a little harmless plotting.


Jake closed the Floo connection and sighed to himself, turning towards her yellow-eyed Half-Kneazle licking a paw, he said, "Oy vey. Hufflepuffs would never be this much trouble." Then again, his badger buddies wouldn't approve of his high treason. Dreamily, Jake wondered if Snape would make him an honorary Slytherpuff for this.


As the grate held the dying embers of his connection, Severus nodded to himself. Her schedule would be helpful. He'd just have to make sure he cornered her in a public place. He didn't think she'd be able to reject him in front of spectators.


Less than twelve hours out from prison, and already Severus had the hatchings of a nefarious plot to reclaim his wife. Not that he'd resort to a potion to lure her back, but somehow Severus was confident that he would only have to show up and she'd throw herself at him. Everyone said so.


Hermione was a mess without him.


It was the reason why he'd left Azkaban. To save her. She needed help. She needed him. And knowing that she was miserable without him meant he still had a shred of a chance. And if there was even a Billywig's ass of a chance to get Hermione back, he'd take it. He had hurt her, callously and unjustly - he'd treated her the way he was accustomed to being treated by others, but he could fix all that if she let him.


Besides, the Ministry was only discussing repealing the Marriage Law, meaning she was still beholden to it until it was abolished. What would Hermione do if he swept in and saved her? She would have to be grateful to him - there just weren't many suitable wizards still available. And even if he was working the damned law to his own advantage again, he knew Hermione wanted him. Everyone said so.


He imagined Hermione becoming overwhelmed with seeing him outside the prison, in real daylight. She would swoon when he declared his undying love for her and proposed marriage. And he could already envision her thanking him for saving her from some wrinkly old wizard, possibly with that wickedly talented mouth of hers.


There was the most enormous bed in the Master's chambers, large enough for four mistresses, if he was so inclined. It would be damned difficult to tie her up spread eagle on it, but maybe - just maybe - he could tackle her and roll around on it with her. Perhaps even lower it a few inches. And by gods, the things he could do with her in that absurdly massive shower. It begged to be broken in.


Yes, Severus decided. His wife would be his again. He felt it in his bones. They belonged together. Perhaps she was his gift for his long years of self-denial. Regardless, he was going to find his witch and claim her properly. Severus was confident. For the first time in years, he was confident. They would finally be together. Then he'd drill a Hermione-shaped indentation into the mattress. And Severus had a lot of mattress to work with.



A/N:
Chapter title: Obesa Cantavit - The fat lady has sung. In honor of our dear Warden Blotts. Say goodbye Warden, I believe your swansong has been sung.

Elizabeth Cole is the cameo characterization of FascinatingSnape who won the book title contest with Ex Intempestivo Pax. Many congratulations, and thanks to FascinatingSnape for her help.

Christev, beta-extrordinaire and marathon Lake Michigan swimmer, lovingly beta'd this chapter, and for that I am grateful.

And thanks to everyone who has continued to read this little story (now only 10 chapters past where I thought it would end) and has looked forward to the day Severus would be set free. Thank you. AV