The Gilded Cage

Heidi191976 - Thank you m’dear! I appreciate your support.
Voracious - I agree, Severus should be a bit more wary of pissing her off. He’s not out of the dog house yet.
DawnEB - That argument will briefly resurface, but if he’s smart he won’t go there. I’m very supportive of make-up sex. I’m doing better, thank you.
danie - I’ve reassessed what’s currently written, and my projections and I think this will wrap up around chapter 60-62-ish.
Alina - You know, I never had plans for him to interrupt her ‘family time.’ Thanks love.
EleanorRigby - It’s in the works now.
HarryGinny4eva - *cackles* Where the good lord split you? Too funny, woman! Blotts will get his.
Losername - Thank you. Slytherpuff is not original to me. I can’t remember where I heard it first, but I’m glad you liked it.
alientheet - No, they don’t understand at all. My hubby’s eyes just glaze over and he’s learned to smile and nod.
neelix - No dawdling this time, just straight with purpose... just slightly misguided.
Rini -Again you have me giggling with laughter over your review. Blotts will get his. Elizabeth was necessary – it’s not just right to say ‘witches are after him’ I have to show it. And Severus is hearing what he wants to hear. And being kind of a tool.
Phoenix - It’s a bit more of a wait for lemons, but I hope it’ll be worth it.
Olwen - I think he’s hearing what he wants to hear. That, and realistically, the guy’s just not that good with women.
Draco_Lover - Yep, happy ending. And Jake’s definitely a Slytherpuff.
geeklee - Severus has left Azkaban, so at least that’s the right step towards any plan’s success. I’m glad you’re hooked.

*

Chapter 54 - Integer Vitae Scelerisque Purus


Freedom, real and tangible for his taking held innumerable promises, and his imagination spun so many perfect scenarios of where life could lead him. Unlike when he had graduated Hogwarts, poor as a pauper, Hermione had managed his gold and made him unbelievably wealthy. The world really was his oyster. And his cage.


The witches would find him soon enough and descend upon him. He couldn’t be seen in public without being mobbed. And unlike before, he was unable to hex them.


Damned Ministry probation. Damned public spotlight. Aside from the fact that he was now so high profile and unaccountably rich, he was likely to get sued for each and every little hex and Dark Arts curse he threw. That was likely to clear him out of Galleons within weeks. There was no justice in the world.


He just knew he had to flee to someplace where he couldn't be found. And as supportive as Ffoulkes was, his presence was too much of a reminder of the prison. Ffoulkes finally left him, after asking for the fifth time (and amazingly, not getting punched) if he was 'alright to be left alone.' Of course he was, Severus snorted. He was a grown wizard, not someone who needed coddling... so what if he felt creeped out all the time?


The moment Ffoulkes gave into his demand to let a wizard have his privacy, the Homestead fell awkwardly silent.


The Homestead did not belong to him. It was haunted by her. Hermione left lingering traces of herself everywhere, and it was a pitiful reminder that it was her home. Every room reflected her vision of the life she had planned for them. Staying was out of the question.


He could not remain a moment longer, he had to leave, so Severus summoned the house-elves.


The elves gathered as a household for his review in the great hall, and Severus was astounded by their numbers. He knew that there had been unrestrained breeding in the absence of a Master, but was unprepared to see them all together. And by the heaps of gangly Elfkins, Hermione had done nothing at all to the limit their reproduction or destroy nests. Damn her. The Homestead did not have enough work to gainfully employ all of them, and idle elves were dangerous to themselves and their Masters.


Instead they had proliferated and been dressed up like little dolls. The females wore pink gingham pinafore aprons and the males wore blue gingham britches. Frankly, Severus couldn’t be arsed to care what they wore as long as it covered their little elf bits. Elf genitalia was disgusting enough to put any wizard off sex.


“Master, beloved son of noble birth,” an elf squeaked, proudly gesturing towards the gathering. “Daisy presents the Prince Household.”


“This is me mate, Donald.” Donald bowed low and twitched his over-sized ears and Severus rolled his eyes.


“Just stop,” Severus commanded as the next set of elves came forward to introduce themselves. He was in no mood for a joyful reunion and seriously doubted he’d ever learn their names anyway. “I am not remaining in the Homestead. I will require an elf to attend me when I leave.”


The elves began to shiver in anticipation, no doubt excited by the prospect of rinsing out his socks in a foreign location. His thumb ghosted thoughtfully across his jaw in contemplation, as the sea of anxious elves panted before him, except for one short elf hiding in the back. He wouldn’t have noticed her if she hadn’t stuck out from the rest by looking thoroughly disinterested. Severus also noticed she wore her checkered apron inside-out so that only the white lining showed. Apparently she disliked pink.


“That one,” he pointed emphatically.


The stubby elf’s green eyes widened in alarm and she grumbled, “bloody hell.”


Severus smirked and strode off. He wasn’t entirely certain where he was headed, but he wasn’t about to stick around.

*****

So it came to be, not that Severus had any clue how it came to be, but Severus found himself living on a camp bed strangely reminiscent of his old Azkaban mattress, minus the stains, in Jake Edwards' basement. Jake Edwards, the milk-livered Hufflepuff twit’s basement. It was unheated, save warming charms, poorly lit without Illumination spells, quiet except when the house above was not, and accumulated dust regardless of how many cleaning spells were cast. Hermione's yellow-eyed, ankle-biting monster managed the mouse problem quite well, which was really fine with him, because outside of Azkaban he had no desire to save the fates of rats and mice any longer. Let the diseased rodents die. Severus freely admitted to having a strong personal bias against rats.


On the whole Severus found it most hospitable and suited him just fine.


Tink, the Homestead elf, was adjusting well enough, Severus supposed. Not that he'd bother to ask her if she was happy about it. Her saucer-shaped eyes had critically assessed their humble accommodations before she shrugged and built her pallet. And Tink managed to keep the basement relative clean, when she could be arsed to clean. The moment he brought her to Edwards' Victorian home, she had looked at him with baleful eyes and snarked, "Tink is a garden-elf," and he hadn't heard a word from her since.

Apparently she didn't 'do' housework. Her main occupation appeared to be smoking behind the garden shed with the soft-bellied Hufflepuff.


While Hermione was off the continent, Jake ranted and raved about the high drama of resurrecting Granger Industries. Severus had half a mind to throttle the wizard, except he was a marvelous gourmet chef, and was gone most of the time to oversee the rebuilding of the production line. Jake kept his home, which he had taken to calling a half-way house for the lost – whatever that meant, spotless and relatively quiet. And when Severus took mid-afternoon snoozes he could nearly imagine he was back in his cell.


In the basement, only the ever-present sound of the waves was absent, and Severus found that most uncomfortable of all. The constant white-noise was something his mind reached out to for comfort, and when the eerie silence of the empty house tickled his senses, Severus found it deeply disturbing. But he knew he’d adjust.


Life outside of Azkaban required adjustment, and Jake was assisting him in getting there. The Hufflepuff clown was attempting to teach him how to use one of the damnable computers that Hermione doted on. It was ‘hooked up’ and ‘linked in’ which truly was absurd because it had neither chains nor hooks attached, but Severus was managing as best he could, given the circumstance. He was rather proud of himself, actually. The contraption was clearly not made of glass, and yet was called a Window. It made noises at him which were really uncalled for, and the one time the entire painting went blue Jake swore up a storm, and that at least was highly entertaining.


Still, Severus asserted, he was here. He was alive. And he was surviving. At least until Hermione came home, because Severus hadn’t a clue how to deal with her other than feel uncontrollably melancholy at the most inconvenient of times, so perhaps it was for the best that she was on the other side of the planet.


While she was away, Severus did attempt to get to know and understand his young wife. The Hufflepuff called it snooping, but then he was an idiot. There was an entire world of difference between snooping and reconnaissance, being a nosy parker and gathering targeted data, meddling and research.


While incarcerated, Severus received what filtered knowledge he had about her from what she brought him. He was entirely dependent upon her for information and material goods to maintain his lifestyle. Yes, it was a prison and it was not meant to be a lavish lifestyle, but he refused to dwell on that notion any longer, he was moving onwards – adapt, overcome, and whatnot. Now he found himself drawn to the miniaturized boxes stacked in her guest room.


The most unsurprising non-newsworthy piece of information was that Hermione had an entire library worth of books. What did rattle Severus was how many of them were self-help books, both wizarding and Muggle. Hermione didn’t seem like the witch to need advice on how to be a better person; she was perfect, in absolutely every way… His gift from the Gods. His Vixen…


He read her books. She dog-eared books, which was an old habit of his he had grown out of in his maturity and had developed into something of a pet peeve. She also underlined and highlighted passages, which was truly intolerable, except Severus found himself reading those pages and passages more than other. He traced her pencil marks with his fingers and imagined her absorbed in thought, marking what meant most to her. However, mostly Severus took to scowling.


All of the self-help books she favored readily proclaimed that if she only just managed her time more efficiently she could have the career she always imagined, the spotless house she dreamed of, a perfect and equitable marriage, well-behaved children, and she would still have plenty of time left over to take a few college classes at her leisure. When Severus spotted the chapter extolling ‘Marriage is a Partnership,’ he growled… then read it twice.


The day Hermione was due to return Severus was an utter wreck. Dementors hadn’t scared him as terribly. The Dark Lord… perhaps. Hermione was a different kettle of fish altogether.


“Where were you?” Severus demanded, as soon as the clown walked through the door carrying groceries. "You were supposed to be home early."


He paced like a caged animal. He fucking felt like a caged animal.


Jake set his bags down and shrugged out of his worn jacket before rolling his eyes. “Uh, work? Shopping? You know, things people do to maintain a living.”


Jake sniffed delicately in Severus’ direction. The wizard was looking much better than before, but wore the same air of neglect as Hermione had. Jake washed and rinsed his hands before wiping them off on his faded jeans.


“May I ask what you did today?”


Severus grumbled unintelligibly, feeling quite put out, as if he were being talked to like a small child.


“Hm…? What was that, I can’t hear you.”


“I said I worked on the adjusted projections.”


“Did you use the software I showed you?” A glare answered Jake for all his troubles. “Right. I didn’t think so.” He shook his head, disappointed by the dark brooding wizard.


Severus was ready with his argument that Arithmancy was faster when the sassafras-tailed twit walked right past him ignoring his scowl. Severus swore if the tea wasn’t superb and the accommodations weren’t so... accommodating, he’d pack up and leave. Certainly, he wasn’t sticking around for such abuse.


When Jake waltzed back through the swinging kitchen doors carrying a large soup tureen Severus pounced.


“I wasn’t finished talking with you –“


“Oh?” he interrupted heading towards the swinging doors once more. “I thought you had. My bad. Fine! Inferi versus Ghosts. Bodies without souls. Souls without bodies. Who would win that fight? Talk amongst yourselves.”


The empty doors swung on their hinges and Severus glanced about him, wondering who else other than the scruffy, bottlebrush tomcat was in the room that qualified as ‘yourselves’ and found none. In another life Severus would have been ready to dissect, harvest, and pickle the wizard. He was, sadly, willing to concede that he was a slight Veela-hair off his game since leaving Azkaban.


Jake sailed back in again, levitating a brazier behind him. Unaware of, or unconcerned by, the murderous glare Severus was giving him. Any of his Slytherins would have recognized the pulsing blue vein in his forehead as a sign of bad things to come. And yet Edwards appeared entirely unaffected. Nitwit.


“You were gone for hours!” Severus stormed. His belated rage took a bit of the wind out of his sails, but he could manage to be threatening as necessary. Jake, who was peeling carrots over the sink, didn’t bother to turn around and appreciate his sinister stare.


“Oh sweet Sheba!” Jake flailed. “I was busy at the auto shop having my wallet molested by a short, hairy mechanic named Red. Give it a rest, Severus. I have to get Hermione’s Welcome-Back dinner ready. Now scoot! I’ll bring you left-overs later. If you’re hungry now there’s still some roast in the fridge.”


“The roast is gone,” Severus bickered. It was delicious. Rosemary rubbed with creamed horseradish sauce made an excellent mid-day repast.


“All of it?” Jake exclaimed, looking pointedly at Severus’ trim abdomen, expecting him to suddenly plump. “Oy-vey. I’ll fix something up now.”


“I can cook,” he argued.


Jake slumped against the countertop and pointed at an oversized plastic breadbox. “What’s that?”


Severus hated shrugging, on rare occasions his nose twitched convulsively, but he did not shrug. “It is a breadbox.” He said it with a cool air of confidence, which typically worked when concealing ignorance.


“It is a microwave. It makes frozen-food.”


“You eat frozen food?” Severus asked, repulsed.


“I prove my point. Now, unless you’re going to peel carrots, get out of my kitchen.”


Severus stood, towering appropriately over the much younger wizard, his arms crossed in an appropriately menacingly way, and allowed his glittering black eyes to rest on his shorter stature, in what he hoped was an appropriately dangerous manner. The Hufflepuff was supposed to come to the correct conclusion that his life was indeed in jeopardy, except that he grabbed a bag of potatoes.


Severus began peeling carrots.


After many minutes of comfortable silence and meditative chopping Jake spoke up.


“You’re not going to lose her, you know.”


“I’ve already lost her,” Severus replied, his eyes firmly fastened to julienning the carrots. They would be
perfect. Absolutely perfect. For her. He clenched his jaw to stay focused.


“Nah. She just lost her way. Give her some time and she’ll come round. Besides, anyone who’s stayed more than three days with their parents is ready for positive change.”


He didn’t have Jake’s confidence. He didn’t have much faith in his ability to convince the witch either. Short of a highly illegal potion that made Liquid Sunshine feel like a first year Calming Draught, he didn’t know what would convince the witch to accept him back.


Blatherskite, absolute twaddle, began pouring from his lips as a weakly constructed damn began breaking apart again, while a large pile of julienned carrots grew to epic proportions. Every random thought, each aching twist around his heart became vocalized drivel, and Jake let him prattle on.


Jake was tying up the lamb when Severus began to run out of steam.


“You could tell her all of this,” he offered gently, taking one handful of matchstick carrots.


Severus turned to him, appalled, and gawked in an unseemly manner, but no matter how hard he tried, more words would not form, just embarrassing sounds of disbelief from the back of his throat.


Jake shrugged. “Women want the truth from their men. And don’t underestimate the power of a good emotional outpouring. The more the humbling – the better. All women like big tough masculine men to a certain degree, but at the end of the day, they all need the reassurance that they’re loved, appreciated, and wanted. So things didn’t go so well for the two of you before?” he shrugged as if Severus’ annulment was a minor emotional speed bump. “Fix it.”


“I don’t know how,” Severus quietly confessed.


“Eh, you’ll figure it out. Just tell her some of what you told me and you’ll get there.”


As he trudged heavily down the plank staircase to his basement dwelling, one hand holding a highly oxymoronic steaming plate of hot frozen-food, the other hand carrying a cup mountainously full of julienned carrots, Severus breathed a little easier. Even if it was musty basement air. Soon his wayward witch would be above him, and hopefully soon enough, she’d be beside him.

*****

Every thirty seconds or so, Jake nervously glanced at his wristwatch. “She’s arrived,” he muttered. He flicked on the back porch light, and pushed aside the kitchen curtains, waiting for the crack of her Apparition. It came moments later. Jake hastened to the door and held it out for her as Hermione walked on still uneasy feet to the kitchen table and plopped ungracefully into a chair. In her hand she was still clutching the squashed diet soda can Portkey.


“You look beat,” Jake remarked. He had hoped that an Australian vacation would do the witch some good. Connect with her roots and all that, but by the dark circled evidence under her eyes, visiting with the ‘rents didn’t go so well.


Hermione gave a weak smile. “I’m just tired of traveling.” She gave as a pitiful excuse. Just then her nose picked up the warm scent of dinner wafting in from the formal dining room, it was perfectly ready and didn’t need a single stasis charm. Hermione’s stomach did a flip-flop. “Jake, you do realize that I had brunch before I left. I’m not hungry,” she said apologetically.


Jake pouted, and Hermione knew he had spent time and effort into a welcome back dinner, ignoring the fact that she was traveling from the other side of the world and would need days to adjust to the change in time zone. That, and mimosas with mum had definitely thrown her.


She hadn’t exactly expected a happy Granger family reunion, but once mum had stopped screaming, she wanted to make up for lost time and bond. Hermione wasn’t certain what was worse. The screaming she understood. The need for ten hour a day shopping marathons to buy unmentionables and have conversations about their respective sex lives (or in her case, the lack thereof) was draining. She had spent the last week playing Saffy to her mother’s Edina.


“Can I get you anything?” Jake asked concerned.


“A length of rope and a rickety stool?” Hermione asked hopefully. At Jake's disapproving look Hermione sighed. “I’m fine, Jake, just tired. Give me a moment to freshen up and I’ll tell you about my trip.”


Hermione padded off to the guest room she had essentially made into her home and enlarged her trunks. Even magically expanding, Hermione had needed another trunk just to fit all the dainties her mother had insisted she buy. Hermione had been too browbeaten and guilt-tripped by that point to argue, even though she knew the likelihood of anyone seeing her sassy knickers within the century was slim to nil.


Crookshanks was regally lounging in the center of her bed when she walked in, and Hermione paused to assess the beast. “Am I forgiven?” she asked tentatively. It was a question she had repeated numerous times over the recent days. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and began to stroke the half-Kneazle.


Crooks tried valiantly to appear unaffected until Hermione scritched just that right spot beneath his ear, and the proud tom purred in delight. It wasn’t Horntail pate, Crooks woefully reflected, turning on his back and showing his fluffy belly while he was in the mood for a good rubbing, but his mistress knew how to get to him when he was weak. The dark wizard hiding in the basement was good for a scratch here and there, but his familiar was tops when it came to knowing his vulnerable spots. All too soon for Crooks’ preference, Hermione withdrew and set her bags unpacking.


She reemerged later looking more refreshed, and sighed at the sight of the fully packed dining table waiting for her.


“You’re still not hungry,” Jake muttered disappointed.


“Ah, no.”


“Well at least have a handful of carrots. We have oodles of them,” Jake said in a voice that conveyed she didn’t have any choice in the matter, as he handed her a bowlful.


Jake grabbed a bottle of the perfectly chilled white, and followed Hermione out to the parlor where she had toed off her shoes and had her feet up.


“My dear,” he said solicitously, handing her a glass.


“Thank you.”


Hermione chewed thoughtfully on a few crisp carrot sticks, and took a sip of wine. The pairing was odd, but Hermione could have cared less. She was feeling a bit road-beaten, and was very glad to come home. Even if it wasn’t really her home.


“I was hoping your trip would do you some good,” Jake began, noting with approval the slight improvement in her coloring.


“It was,” Hermione hastened. She pulled a slight face at the overly sweet Riesling that Jake favored, but said nothing. She and Severus both favored bold reds with heady tannins, but he was not a topic up for discussion, even in the comforts of her own mind. “My parents were glad to see me. The memory charms were fading - from time, I suppose.”


Hermione’s lips twitched and Jake was wise enough to sense she was not proud by that fact. Fading charms was the result of poor wand work or lack of intention. Though neither would suggest Hermione could ever have poor wand work, lack of intention in memory-modifying her parents was a definite possibility. Still, it called into question her abilities as a witch.


Severus listened to the faint voices overhead and considered casting an amplification spell. Several times his eyes cut to the wand stuffed up his sleeve, and he’d have whipped it out and cast the spell, if his damned conscience hadn’t decided to use that moment to make an appearance. It was wrong for him to listen at doors and peer into locks.


But it was his Hermione.


Severus cast the spell and focused his attention on the room above his head.


Tink, upset at being ushered out of the house proper, pulled up a crate and rickety table in front of the wizard who’d fastened his gaze on the dusty ceiling. When Severus glanced down to sort out the source of the racket, Tink was dealing out cards. A questioning eyebrow arched at the diminutive elf before he picked up his hand.


Hermione took another sip and laid her head back on the sofa cushion. “I knew retrieving them wasn’t going to be easy. I guess that’s why I put it off for so long.”


“And?” Jake prompted.


“And, it was miserable. I can’t even begin to tell you how upset Mum was that I didn’t restore her memories the same day Lord Voldemort died. You would have thought I had kept them in a dark dungeon all these years.”


“You did send them to a former penal colony,” he glibly supplied.


“Hush,” Hermione chided. “That’s just the thing, they love Australia. They have no interest in returning whatsoever, and yet they still resent me for it.”


Below her feet Severus snorted, and re-sorted his cards. He was only playing with half interest, but he was positive the fang-toothed blighter was cheating at cards. House-elves weren’t supposed to do that.


Jake rolled his eyes. “Hm, wonder why,” he idly commented.


Hermione sank deeper into the cushions, her face coloring up slightly. “I know,” she mumbled, low enough that Severus had to strain to hear her, “I’m a wretched daughter. And I guess I just thought that… well, I knew they wouldn’t be happy about me leaving them there, but I didn’t really expect them to hate me.”


Her parents had never held her back from anything she wanted to do. They bestowed all their love and affection on their only child, and Hermione grew up believing that in their eyes, she could do no wrong. For the first time in her life, they weren’t 100% supportive of her choice.


“They hate you? “


“No, of course not. They’re my parents,” Hermione sheepishly muttered.


“Then I don’t get it,” Jake replied dumbly.


Hermione sighed deeply, and pinched her brow as Severus was often wont to do, and she shook her mind free of the man. “They are …disappointed. Wretchedly disappointed. Even though they hadn’t wanted to leave Australia, I abandoned them for five years.” Jake nodded sympathetically. “I know you’ve never met my parents, but disappointing them, hurting them, is so much worse than anything else I can think of.”


“That’s pretty universal, Hermione.”


“I guess what’s awful is that I really had to make amends with my parents. And I don’t think a few shopping trips and margaritas with Mum is going to really do it. I already know I’m expected back for Christmas, and Dad’s birthday, and well… it’s going to take a long time before I’m back in their good graces.”


Jake nodded again.


Tink cackled and called ‘Gin.’


The house-elf was definitely cheating.


Tears were beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes, and Jake pulled a folded handkerchief out of his back pocket in anticipation. “I didn’t expect this whole atonement thing to be so difficult,” she began to snuffle. “I thought they’d want me back so much, they’d accept me.”


Hermione took the proffered handkerchief with a weak smile. Severus replaced his handkerchief back into his breast pocket, realizing the action was futile.


Severus had made penance look easy, she mournfully reflected. Now that she had trodden a so-called mile in his shoes, Hermione began to appreciate his choice. It wasn’t the easy path. And forgiveness wasn’t instantly forthcoming. At least with her parents she had a better idea as to when she was absolved, but Hermione also recognized they might never trust her again.


Slowly she began to understand, that maybe after lots of work on her part, the damage done to their relationship might mend, but her family would never be the same.


Penance sucked.


A/N:
Chapter title: Integer Vitae Scelerisque Purus - Blameless of life and free from crime

Christev beta'd this chapter, as she has tirelessly beta'd every chapter - because she's wonderful like that. But I'm so thrilled to mention, she's also a writer now, and she has posted a few short fics on TPP. Congratulations love!

Thank you to all the well-wishers. Today's chest x-ray showed the pneumonia is gone. I appreciate your love and support. Thank you for staying with this fic, your wonderful reviews keep my happily typing along (as evidenced by the fact that I'm now 60,000 words over earlier projections...) Schmootches! AV