The Gilded Cage

Voracious - Tink is from the mind of a friend of mine who requested a smoking elf. As a character, she's a real gem.
Danie - Oh yes, he is a bit possessive of her, so I suppose that makes it 'ok.'
Rini - Elizabeth wasn't stereotypical, but just as cunning. Sneaky Slytherins. Eileen named the elves. Tink is her own elf. I'm not sure about betting on horses though. Christev should be emailing you, but if not: http://www.thepetulantpoetess.com/viewuser.php?uid=7068
neelix - Torture indeed. It's lovely an-ti-cipation
baesters - I'm thrilled you're so enthused for the fic, but I'm only able to update 1x/week.
Clairvoyant - We're all in greedy anticipation for the reunion, and I hope the lemons meet expectations.
Draco_Lover - Her parents were important because I needed Hermione to understand Severus and appreciate him a bit more than she had. No better way than shedding some of that heavy emotional baggage.
anncee - I'm so glad the pneumonia is gone too. And I think we're all anticipating the reunion.
Phoenix - Yep, I'm evil and manipulative. I gotta keep you hungry for more.
Femme Bono - It's coming, be patient. I promise I won't leave you hanging too long.

*

Chapter 55 - Libenter Homines Id Quod Volunt Credunt

His eyes were drawn repeatedly to the small print calendar in front of him, even as he attempted to make polite conversation with the milk-livered twit. Hermione had the afternoon blocked for ‘courtship,’ and Severus couldn’t suppress his contempt for the printout. On the whole, his razor-sharp skills at masked indifference were rather dull. The Dark Lord would have cracked his head like an egg in seconds. Every thought was being broadcast for the world at large. Or at least for Jake and the knee-high she-devil Tink, who was decidedly not doing housework or gardening, for that matter.


“And that should bring us current with our outstanding contracts,” the Hufflepuff finished.


“Pardon?” Severus asked, before gritting his teeth, admonishing his own lack of focus and secretly cringing under Jake’s look of reproach.


“You haven’t paid attention to a word I’ve said,” Jake exasperatedly wailed.


Jake owned thirty percent of Granger Industries and still the lovelorn duo paid him no mind, and only a passing amount of respect. He had half a mind to toss them both out on the streets and let them duke it out themselves. Jake mentally paused, considering selling tickets and media rights to the fight of the century that whole business with Voldemort excluded, naturally). He’d clear hundreds in concessions alone. Jake reeled himself back in and re-focused on the wizard who was burning a hole in Hermione’s schedule with his fierce eyes.


“She’s not serious about him, you know,” Jake soothed. “It’s just to appease the Ministry, to show she’s actively seeking. I’m sure they’ll repeal this law before she has to do anything drastic, like marry the wizard.”


Severus turned all of his considerable anger upon him, and Jake wisely shut up. He knew when he could provoke him, and push at his buttons just a bit, but when the wizard actually growled… that was a very clear warning that Jake was stepping too hard on tender nerves. Like the popping blue vein bulging from his temple, Jake absently thought.


Tink looked eagerly between the two wizards, suddenly more interested in impending bloodshed than her 1994 Seed Catalogue. Tink was rather fond of the pudgier wizard who smelled of citrus than the dark angry ‘Master,’ but that didn’t mean she wasn’t thrilled to see a good jugular ripping.


The Master flexed his hands, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Tink eyed the situation and considered the effort of getting popcorn. But then seemed to visibly deflate, his erect posture stooping and all the fight escaping him. Tink narrowed her eyes, muttered "Tink didn't want popcorn anyway," and turned her attention back to the pictures of turnips.


“She’s my wife,” Severus sighed. It was a phrase he’d used multiple times over the last several days, and Jake had neither the heart nor the powerful shielding charm to correct him.


“She’s just doing what she has to do to keep up appearances.” Jake winced slightly as the words tripped out, fearing he’d said the wrong thing again. “You know she’s required to do this. And until you make your grand entrance and sweep her off her feet, well…” Jake’s voice trailed helplessly. He’d given Severus numerous pieces of advice on wooing Hermione, but they’d been discarded. Personally, Jake was beginning to think Severus was being a wuss, which was really saying a lot, coming from a Hufflepuff.


“I don’t know what to do,” Severus painfully admitted. “I just want this to end. I shouldn’t have to woo her.”


Jake cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.


Severus swore lightly under his breath, and prepared himself to confess something he hadn’t admitted to anyone.


“She filed for annulment on the basis that we hadn’t consummated the relationship.”


Severus challenged Jake with his eyes, daring the less magically gifted wizard to mock his manhood.


Jake shrugged. “And? It’s Azkaban warding. Everyone knows that now,” He gestured silently to the stack of Prophets extolling Severus’ virtue and Hermione’s villainy.


Severus cringed. If he ever got his hands on those viper-tongued reporters, he’d use all three Unforgiveables. His sex life, or lack thereof was not headline fodder.


“That’s precisely the issue,” Severus dryly remarked. “I can provide irrefutable Pensieve testimony to the contrary.”


“The binding charms were never finalized,” Jake said confused.


Severus grimaced, unwilling to enumerate further. Jake’s eyes widened. “You slept with her,” he said giddily, eagerly jumping to conclusions. “The warding only prevented you from… you know.”


“Indeed,” Severus remarked, fascinated with a thread hanging from his cuff.


“And?” Jake asked stupidly.


“So, she’s still my wife.” Severus was rapidly losing all patience. Discussing bedding his bride was on par with chaperoning a Slug Club function. Tink looked up hopefully. Her nails were sharp enough to tear flesh, and she hadn’t been in a good scrap since she left the Homestead. But at least that Goblin-fucker Donald knew better than to touch her pruning shears.


Jake sighed heavily and his head crashed into his palms.


“I should think a petition to the Wizengamot…”


“No,” Jake interrupted hastily.


“What?”


“No,” Jake restated emphatically. “Don’t be stupid about this Severus. My god, you’re just as bad as Hermione. You people really deserve each other,” he muttered.


“But she is still my wife,” he railed, pointing brusquely to the thin gold band sitting on his left hand.


“I heard you the first time, pookie, but you can’t haul Hermione before the courts and undo an annulment. Even if they rule in your favor, which is likely, given how everyone is tripping over their robes to kiss your pale and pasty ass – Hermione won’t forgive you. Rebinding her to you, especially against her will, is not endearing. She’ll hate you for it, and that witch knows how to carry a grudge. Half the reason why we have such assholes for distributors is because she refuses to do business with the Edgecombe company because of some stupid school feud with one of the cousins. Honestly, Severus, you don’t want a marriage built on resentment.”


“But she’s miserable without me,” he whispered. He might as well have been talking about himself. He missed his wife.


“Agreed. The witch hasn’t gotten over you yet.”


“Yet?” Severus asked startled.


Jake smiled weakly. “You haven’t exactly ridden in on your white horse yet, Prince Charming. Of course she’s hurting. Her heart was broken, but time, ice cream, liquor, and enough moping about, and eventually she’ll move on. All women eventually do.”


Severus stared vacantly at the crystal bowl holding tart apples on the table, without really seeing them. Lily had cast him off. She’d shed their friendship like a snake shed old skin. Oh, there had been a few wistful looks glanced across the Potions classroom and Quidditch pitch. These longing moments had kept him hopeful and waiting for a reconciliation that never came. Lily had moved on. Severus had not. Nor could he bear the thought with Hermione. His heart could not survive it.


“So,” Jake said in an overly chipper voice, hoping to dispel Severus’ abysmal mood. “No more talk of hauling Hermione into court. She was granted her annulment and you’ve just got to leave it at that. But how to win the fair maiden’s heart again? Hm? Before she gets over you.” Jake’s face scrunched up. “Or before she rebounds with some wrinkly old geezer.”


Severus’ eyes widened and they were drawn back to the word ‘courtship’ on her calendar.


Contrary to what the Hufflepuff idiot believed, Hermione was still his wife, and he would not allow her to ‘get over’ him. He’d put off persuing his witch for far too long, afraid of cocking it all up. Belatedly, he realized the clock was ticking. As he sat around, Hermione could be snogging her new fiancée.


Her schedule crumpled in Severus’ fist.


*****


Bored out of her ever-loving mind, Hermione bit into a slice of melon and choked. Behold the man. Severus Snape himself stood at the maître d’s podium. He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he scanned the dining room, possibly because every witch was giving him their full and complete attention. Hermione wondered if diving under the table was an acceptable option. No. Shit. His fierce gaze locked in on her. Shit. She was seen. Hermione glanced over at her brunch date, wondering if he would notice her Disapparating from the table. He probably wouldn’t, but Hermione was responsible for making sure he got a ride home. The nurses would have a fit if she left him, and he’d probably wander off again. Damn it.


Severus Snape glided smoothly across the room, seemingly at ease in his elegance. Hermione didn’t know what was wrong with the picture until suddenly it occurred to her and she blinked. She hadn’t seen him really stretch his legs since her school days. The cell hadn’t the room for pacing without eliminating the precious comforts such as bed and bookcase.


She swallowed thickly. She had done that. She had eliminated the precious comforts. That wasn’t a place she wanted to dwell upon. She’d been ready to reward herself with a Flourish and Blotts (of no relation to Warden Blotts) shopping trip for keeping her her body clean and presentable and her mind far away from the North Sea. And yet here he was, in her face, ruining all the avoidance and denial she had built up in her mind. Bastard.


Severus bowed courteously to the dining couple. Hermione snacked half-heartedly on a fruit cup and bran muffin, her bibbed date eating about the same.


“May I join you?”


“What are you thinking?” Hermione hissed in a soft voice. She was very aware of the attention they were getting from the room. Well, her date hadn’t cottoned on yet, but that was negligible. “No, of course you may not join us. We're on a date.” To punctuate her statement, in case he hadn’t noticed, Hermione jabbed her spoon in the direction of the wizard who hadn’t looked up from his soft mandarin orange slices.


“Charming, Hermione,” Severus sat anyway. He’d been sucker-punched when he heard she was dating again, but after sizing up his competition he was more inclined to laugh at the absurdity. “I see you’ve moved on. How is the dating scene these days?”


“Fuck you, Snape,” Hermione growled.


Both wizards looked sharply up at the ill-tempered witch. Her date noticed another diner at their table.


Severus ground his teeth. He was going about this all wrong. Damn and blast. He couldn’t goad or bully Hermione into what he pleased anymore. That chapter of his life had been very firmly closed. What had he said to that Hufflepuff the night he had spouted drivel? They were ridiculously in-tune with their - and everyone else’s - touchy-feely emotions.


“Hermione, won’t you introduce me to the wizard who’s won your favor?”


“Fine,” she muttered uncharitably. With as little courtesy as possible she said dully, “Severus Snape, meet Aristotle Dirkins. Aristotle, this is Severus.”


Hermione motioned to a passing service-elf. “Can I get the check?”


“What an honor to meet you,” Severus clapped his hand on the wizend old man's shoulders. “I’m a big fan of your works on logic.”


“Idiot. He’s not that old, and you know it.”


“Could have fooled me.”


“Why did you come here, Snape? Tell me now, so you can go away.”


She had her check in hand and coins out when panic set in. He’d been overconfident and was trying too hard not to sound desperate. He had heard she missed him. Was making herself ill for want of him. Couldn’t function because she missed him so. He had allowed himself to believe she needed a hero. Needed him to swoop in and fix things, make the hurt all better. Severus swallowed. He had missed his opportunity. There was no time for a sweeping dramatic gesture. A warm embrace. And she certainly wouldn’t beg for him, either. He was too late. There’d be no tearful romantic reunion. She wasn’t going to brokenly sob, ‘You came for me Severus. I’ve been sick without you,’ before she kissed him. Painfully, Severus wished to curl up on his fetid cot, stare at his stone walls, and listen to the sound of the sea take his mind away.


“I’m sorry,” he whispered lowly.


“You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say? I’m sorry.”


“Pardon me witch; it’s not a sentiment I’m accustomed to expressing.”


She snorted. “What a piss-poor excuse for an apology. After all …this …this …this, whatever this is, all you’ve got to say is you’re sorry? Well, too bloody bad. It’s not right, Severus!” her voice rose shrilly, making Severus wince. A flash bulb went off in the background, indicating the Prophet had finally caught up with him. “You should have done a lot more than say you’re sorry a long time ago. I’m not interested in your sentiments anymore.”


“Witch,” he hissed, “You’re making a scene.”


“That’s not making a scene. This is making a scene!” Hermione flipped him a rude Muggle gesture he was certain to recognize, as more flashbulbs went off, then she grabbed Aristotle and hauled him up before Disapparating from the restaurant.


****


“And why did you tell him to fuck off?” Jake asked with an inquiring eyebrow, pointing to the grizzly scene captured for posterity on the front of the Special Edition ‘Lovers in Limbo’ Evening Prophet.


Hermione didn’t want to talk about it. Bashing her face into a throw pillow was helping, but not much.


“He apologized, didn’t he?” Jake asked with a voice full of conviction.


Hermione might have been fooled by his ‘intuition,’ if she didn’t have the overwhelming suspicion that Jake was aiding the enemy. Severus had been hot on her trail, and Jake was the only person who knew her whereabouts. Severus would have had to have seen her to cast a tracking spell on her, and she knew he hadn’t.


She’d also been checking for tracking spells after the fucking Prophet had caught wind of a blood-splattered story between two of their favorite subjects. Readership was up, and the public loved every scintillating bit of it. Her private misery was public fodder.


Hermione wanted to blame Severus and his blasted book, but that reminded her of the fact that she was the person who had encouraged him to write it, found the publisher, and hounded him into signing the contract. So she blamed Luna.


“Didn’t he?” Jake coaxed.


“Yes,” Hermione admitted.


“And you made a scene without accepting his apology because...?”


Hermione sighed wearily. How was she supposed to explain it?


Hermione knew she partially had herself to blame, but blaming Severus was easier, especially when he was chasing after her to make amends. That didn’t make much sense. But Hermione rationalized that if he hadn’t been an incredible fuckhead who had rejected her and turned her plans of living happily ever after at the Homestead into a joke, they wouldn’t be in this mess. It was simple: they should have left Azkaban together. Married. Ergo, he started it. He had to apologize for more. Denial was so much easier than acceptance.


The worst part was, her logical brain knew she was in denial, minimizing and rationalizing her actions. Her logical brain, through which she was tempted to drive an ice-pick, clearly believed she was behaving like a two year old. It was utter bollocks that she should have to put up with such a logical brain when she felt so out of control because of her illogical emotions. Damned brain.


“I didn’t want his apology. He should have apologized when I asked him to leave Azkaban. He didn’t have to belittle me or make fun of my ideas. All he had to say was, 'No.' I would have been fine with, 'No.'” She didn’t believe that either, but it all rationalized quite nicely. "Besides, he shouldn't have cornered me in a public place like that. I might have listened to him if he hadn't tried to put me on the spot."


“Not to sound like a bitch, but aren’t you being a tad melodramatic?” Jake chuffed. “He left prison to come rescue you, Princess.”


Hermione shot her new business partner her best death-glare that always worked on Harry and Ron. Jake was immune. Damned business partner.


“He probably left prison to chase tail. Now that the great unsung war hero of the Light is unmarried, he’s probably got offers of pussy right and left.”


“Probably,” Jake agreed, thumbing through shipping documents. Hermione sent him another death-glare, but he wasn’t looking. “Everyone loves him now. The camera just eats him up; it’s like sex all over the Prophet, just having his picture on the front page. They ought to sell it bagged up, or packaged in plain brown boxes. His dark aura and brooding manner attracts a lot of witches and wizards. I suppose they think he’s deep and complicated.”


“He is deep and complicated.”


“No sugar, he’s not. He’s just a wizard worried sick about the witch he loves. It doesn’t get more complex than that.”


“He doesn’t love me.”


“Yes. Yes, he does.”


“Well, he’s never said it,” she complained, adding it to the list of what Severus had to apologize for.


“Severus Snape, the Severus Snape, just left prison and compromised his religious values and beliefs for you, witch, and you’re arguing over three highly overrated little words? Sweet baby Jesus, woman, your denial knows no bounds. You’re smart, Hermione, really smart. Possibly genius. Don’t act stupid. You know he does. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have traded Azkaban for you.”


Hermione was silent for a long moment, and Jake was nearly convinced the conversation was over when she whispered low enough that Jake had to strain to hear her. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? He chooses me over a rotting jail cell?”


Jake rolled his eyes. “Good grief, girl. He traded his pride and self respect for you. You know this. You want this. What I don’t understand is why you’re still sitting here instead of making up with him. You’re hurt. He gets it. I get it. We all get it. But if you keep rejecting him, you’re only hurting yourself.”


Hermione raised an incredulous eyebrow.


“Don’t argue with me, girl. I’m a Hufflepuff. We know all about these things. And before you start with denigrating Hufflepuff jokes, remember that more healers, therapists, and care-givers come from my House than all others combined. We know how to read people and understand their feelings. So why don’t you show a little badger loyalty and go find your wizard, before I stop all my touchy-feely empathy and kick your whiny tuckas.”


“It’s not that easy!”


“Why not? Life is only as complicated as you make it.”


“But we’re not married anymore,” Hermione moaned in near tears.


“And? Do you have to be? Personally, I think it could be a lot yummier this way. Go away together and have hot, sweaty, hotel make-up sex.”


Hermione’s face suffused with color, “I’m not going to have sex with him.”


“Then don’t. Kiss and make up, and have lots of frustrating frottage… Oh my God, I so totally need to get laid. He’s not even my wizard and I’m getting all hot and bothered by this conversation. Go, Hermione. Go find your wizard and make things right. Have wonderfully nasty just-got-out-of-prison hotel sex or not. I don’t care, but get your needs taken care of so you can run this company properly and I can have the time to get some nookie myself. Please, if you’re not going to do it for you, do it for me. Someone’s got to be gettin’ some around here.”


Hermione thought on that for a moment before heading for an early bedtime.


Once she had left, Jake put down his quill and sighed loudly. “Lordy, I just don’t get paid enough for all of this.” He snatched a dark blue folder off the sideboard. “…or maybe…”


*****


The next morning, Hermione found herself stumbling out of the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron. None of the bleary-eyed morning drinkers chasing the hair of the dog paid any attention to her. For that she was eternally grateful. Out in public she often got stared at, or in the case of some deranged witches protecting Severus’ honor, growled at or hexed. She never thought she’d see the day when Severus Snape was some exalted iconic figure and she was a social pariah. Hannah Longbottom, stacking pint glasses, smiled at her, and Hermione welcomed the kindness. Beautiful Hufflepuffs. She was beginning to like that House more and more.


She was on her way to a fitting for Ginny’s wedding, and had to bear the jeering crowds for her. News of the Marriage Law had been relegated to the back pages in favor of puff articles featuring the handsome and dashing ex-spy for the Light, Severus Snape, running errands and scathing articles criticizing Hermione’s character. But it appeared that the Law would soon be overturned. That was a massive relief, because she had thought she would be able to handle Aristotle as deftly as Parvati handled Niles, but she couldn’t. She was also worried about breaking up with him. She wasn't certain if he'd notice at all or have heart failure, and there was something really quite wrong with both.


The Law that had upturned her life was going away. The geriatric wizards who had written the Law had found their child brides, and now it was being repealed. As simple as that. No ‘We’re sorry for royally fucking up your lives. We apologize for the inconvenience to all the witches who are still forcibly bound to old codgers like us.’ Nothing. With her luck, and the slowly grinding wheels of Ministry justice, the Law would be officially repealed the day after she’d be forced to wed Aristotle.


On the bright side, Billy and Ginny were still planning their wedding. Gin had managed to tell her mother and brothers without a single hex cast. She did it by confessing to dear old dad first. There wasn’t anything the Weasley father wouldn’t do for his baby girl. That was typically the sort of thought that caused Hermione’s heart to twinge in pain as she remembered her own father. But she now knew her Dad would support her no matter what as well. She knew this. Absolutely. Even if he was on the other side of the planet. Her parents had goggled when she suggested they move back to England and re-open their practice. Then her Mum checked her forehead for her temperature.


As she walked along the cobbled road, thankful for the early morning appointment that kept the street relatively free from potential gawkers, Hermione’s mind skipped about. Jake’s admonishments had struck deep.


It was ridiculous to chase after her ex-husband for sweaty hotel sex or even just a conversation. With a pang, she remembered she had gotten her marriage annulled. Like it had never happened. Their time together not even having taken place. She didn’t know if she was entitled to call him her ex-husband. According to records, he had never been her husband.


She still thought she ought not to pursue him like another one of his insipid, doe-eyed fans. He should come to her. Preferably on bended knee, with flowers and diamonds. Or at least just one diamond.


No.


He had come for her and she had sent him away. Hermione figured she’d be lucky if he didn’t hex her on sight like many of his supporters tried to do.


Jake was right. She knew the very moment she had heard that he had been released that he had given up his penance for her. Not for himself. For her. He had subsisted for years on nothing in that dank cell, living off of the occasional bilge rat and carrying on with life exactly the way he wanted, before she arrived. He could have gone back to that lifestyle without any problems.


It was Hermione who had been forever altered.


Well, now she knew they were about even in terms of who had hurt whom. Though, now she suspected she had more to apologize for. As she walked quietly down the shop-lined street bundled against the chill, studiously ignoring the pointed stares from pedestrians, she admitted she had been wrong. And deluded. And living in her denial, past the point where it made any sense.


They had both emotionally chased away, rejected, and chased after the other so many times she didn’t know who was right… or perhaps just less wrong. Neither she nor Severus had acquitted themselves very well, and bad behavior seemed to be a trait they had in common.


They were probably even now, and she shouldn’t expect him to drop to his knees, declaring her to be his salvation and one true love. Even though she wanted him to. She had no reason to hope he would do all of the apologizing either. Although she hoped he would.


If they were to make amends she’d have to swallow her pride as well. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.


The bridal shop was full of redheaded Weasley cousins and a perturbed Fleur, who was pregnant again and evidently unhappy about the proceedings. When Ginny spotted Hermione, she rushed over and threw her arms around her as a signal to all the witches in the room that Hermione-bashing was not to be tolerated. She’d not have her Maid of Honor disrespected.


Hermione put on her brightest smile. Even if it was forced, she would do everything in her power to ensure Ginny had her happily-ever-after.


A/N:
Chapter title: Libenter homines id quod volunt credunt - Men gladly believe that which they wish for. (Caesar)

Special thanks goes to Christev20 for her brilliant beta job, and for judging me to be the 'Pervert of the Day' for 25 May 2009. Thank you, it's such an honor.

Schmootches to my readers. AV