The Gilded Cage

Voracious- Jake's an excellent moderator, and he works as a go-between them, so yes, he'll have more onscreen time.
anncee- I haven't changed the pacing of the fic, I've tried to keep it fairly consistent.
Darkless Vasion- Thank you! Tink is a way of infusing some much needed humor. And they do deserve each other.
Rini- Jake probably deserves another raise. And Pervert of the Day launched a whole LJ community dedicated to winning a coveted Pervert of the Week award. I'm not worthy.
katiekrm- They've both done about equal damage in different ways. Part of creating empathy is showing both sides, and in most fights there's different versions of the truth.
Draco_Lover- It's a winding path, but where I'm trying to take them is to a relationship on equal footing.
TQW- No more tricks. Angst muse has left me.
Clairvoyant- Broken pieces are mending. Promise, but I'm unable to change the pacing of the fic. To all of a sudden 'bam' but them back together would feel rushed and unrealistic.
Chocolate Secrets- I'm so glad you and your cat have enjoyed this.
Phoenix Rhapsody- *blushes* thanks Phoenix.
HappyBer- So do some people. Others want to do the same to Sev.
Anathema- I understand perfectly, Ms Figg is a gem. Christev and I really appreciated your indepth review, and we're both glad that the story has satisfied.


Chapter 56 - Cogito Sumere Potum Alterum


As Maid of Honor, not Matron, it was Hermione’s duty to plan Ginny’s Hen-night, so she dutifully did. Gertrude Weasley, another redheaded cousin Hermione vaguely remembered from Bill and Phlegm’s wedding, loudly whined about having it in Muggle London, but was told by the entire bridal party to put a cork in it. Apparently nobody liked Gertrude much or cared for her opinion. Not that Hermione would have paid her any mind one way or another. If Hermione could, she would have held the Hen-night quietly at the Burrow behind sixty anti-rat-bastard-reporter wards or, if needs must, Portkey everyone to Kathmandu.


But Ginny wanted a proper Hen-night filled with giggling drunken witches, bawdy games, and stupid penis-shaped party favors. And Hermione was obliged to make it so. Her ‘Hen-night’ had been spent hunched over Quality Indicator reports and Product Feedback notes, until she zonked out from weary red eyes and tasteless red wine. But then she’d made such an utter catastrophe of her own marriage - no, annulled non-marriage - that she was willing to support Ginny any way she needed.


And if Ginny required her to bake a phallus-shaped vanilla cake with flesh-tone pink butter-cream frosting, then damn it, she’d do that too. Except that she was utter shite at baking, and her lovely, wonderful, miraculous business partner Jake saved her before she botched it all to hell. So while he hummed around the kitchen making penis cake, donkey dick danishes, naughty no-no nougats, and ‘hairy’ chocolate dipped coconut balls, Hermione showered and stared absently at her open wardrobe, much like she’d done on the morning of her wedding.


When a tear threatened to trickle down her cheek, she blinked rapidly until it went away. There was no time for that. The two and a half months she’d wasted in bed crying herself sick were over. They’d flown by in a blur of deep depression and heartache that she was resolved never to revisit. The vials of Liquid Sunshine had taunted her, and though she knew they could bring her the clarity of thought and calm she sought, Severus had been right. She’d been adding too much Horntail liver for years, overdosing herself until she was an unemotional statue who felt nothing and was touched by nothing. That kind of detached living was just as unhealthy as her bone-aching depression.


How sad it was, she reflected, that the happiest she had been in recent memory was when her life was upended and she spent most of her time in Azkaban. But none of that was of any consequence anymore, she breathed; tomorrow was another day.


Jake, damn him, had saved Granger Industries. And Hermione realized she hadn’t ever given him the credit that he deserved. Jake had the most amazing knack to go through reports just as thoroughly and almost as fast as Severus had, and Jake also had the most inspired ideas. She had undervalued him and his ability to do it all, apparently while baking a cake.


Hermione stuck her arm into the dark recesses of her wardrobe and fished around before pulling out at random a set of emerald green cashmere robes. “Grand,” she muttered, and pulled the long knit skirt off the hanger. She’d need a top to go along, since voluminous sixteenth century inspired robes weren’t in season in Muggle London. Another fishing trip later and she pulled out a similar set in camel. She tossed the robes aside and paired the camel sweater with the hip hugging green skirt, smoothed her hair down in front of the vanity mirror, and pronounced it ‘good.’ Or at least as good as it was going to get. Actually, the look wasn’t too bad.


She grabbed her blue beaded purse, which really had seen better days but still managed to do the trick, secured her wand as a hairstick in her chignon, and strutted towards the kitchen. Her heels clicked loudly on the hardwood flooring in a manner Hermione found oddly reassuring. She could do this. She was a strong, independent witch. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even for her. It was all Ginny’s good fortune.


When she entered the kitchen, Jake was basting royal icing swirls on tips of the penis shaped sugar biscuits. The cake was perfectly baked, cooled and frosted, along with all the other treats. He looked up, sampling a bit of the royal icing from his finger.


“Do you think the lemon zest is a bit much?”


“I’m sure it’s perfect,” Hermione smiled, kissing his cheek and piling the pastry boxes together for travel.


Jake rolled his eyes, “Of course it’s perfect; it’s always perfect. No need to be a Martha about it.”


With a quick farewell, Hermione walked to the back door stoop, cautiously looked right and left, as they were in a Muggle neighborhood, and Disapparated with a pop. Jake watched her leave through the curtains over the kitchen sink, toweled off his hands and knocked on the cellar door.


“Ok, it’s safe now, she’s gone,” He called out.


A few minutes later Severus emerged with Crookshanks under his arm, purring deeply. The two dominant alpha males had come to an understanding of sorts after a difficult first week, but after sorting out their respective territorial issues, they were rather fond of each other. Severus put down the pansy-faced monster, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a decent enough Riesling. He wasn’t much for overly-sweet white wines, but it was what Jake kept on hand, and he wasn’t complaining.


He dropped down a thick blue folder and grumbled, “You type it; my fingers hurt from punching the keys.”


“That’s because you jab them, Sweets. It’s called touch-typing because you touch the keys, not beat them into submission,” Jake retorted, reaching into the cupboard to pull out jars of pickled walnuts, kalamata olives and crusty bread. “The brie is in the fridge,” he called over his shoulder.


A glass of wine and several olives later, Severus held his new BlackBerry in the palm of his hand and honestly declared, “I think I may break her neck when I get my hands on her.”


“Tease,” Jake chided.


*****


The club was loud and smoky. The strobe lights made her nauseous, or perhaps that was the tequila. She had one, only one. No. Wait. Two, only two tequilas. To the best of her knowledge there had been two, or possibly four. Hornitos was such a gentle liquor and so fun to say when attempting to roll her 'Rs' that she might have ordered a few too many. She had figured the shots wouldn’t kill her, and someone had to be the witch of reason while Gertrude molested random Muggle men. Two or maybe four shots, however, was more than enough.


Tequila, she determined, was definitely not her drink.


“Why aren’t you dancing?” Ginny hollered in her ear.


“What?” Hermione screeched.


“Dan-cing.” Ginny demonstrated the concept by imitating something that looked more like a physical malady than an artful expression, and the Tarantallegra Jinx was by far more graceful.


“Oh… dancing,” Hermione screamed back, “Too hot.” She pointed at her woolen clothing which looked absurd in the club, against all the bared flesh and popping nipples.


“Go change,” Ginny hollered just as the throbbing techno beat changed and ended up yelling in her ear.


Hermione nodded and wandered off to a random dark corner. There were several D’s involved. Determination was probably one of them. Destination sounded good too. Her eyes alighted on the graffiti strewn wall, ‘Deez Nutz’ was written thickly in ink. “Another good D,” she commented mid-Apparition. She reappeared facing the dishwasher and pointed at it loudly pronouncing, “D” as her chin rested on her collar bone.


Behind her she faintly heard a great scuffle and a loud, ‘Oh, shit,’ as Severus nearly choked on an olive pit.


Hermione turned and headed to her guest room to change sighing, “Hi, Jake. Hi, Severus,” and she strode out the door.


Back in the kitchen the two wizards locked eyes with the same thought on their minds. Hermione stumbled in the hallway and giggled, “D. Drunk.”


“I’ll take care of her,” Jake offered.


Severus shot him a glare as the kalamata pit was forcibly expelled. “No, I will.”


Jake held up his hands placatingly and backed off. Another loud crash came from the guest room and Severus drew his wand, Disillusioning himself. The tell-tale shimmer was still highly visible as he walked, but if Hermione was three sheets to the wind, she wouldn’t likely notice. He let himself into her bedroom where she hopped on one foot, wrangling her jeans on.


Severus cocked his head to the side to watch the spectacle and was thoroughly entranced by her thong. It left nothing to the imagination and no part of her round bottom covered, but it drew him like a ship to a Siren. Disillusioned, Severus ended up offering his arm to lean on as she dragged her heels through the tight leggings.


“You should have taken those off first, Vixen,” he murmured in her ear.


“Of course Severus, you’re right.” She paused and fumbled with the buttons on her fly. “You’re always right.”


Hermione wrinkled her nose. She was talking to herself again, or rather Severus, except Severus wasn't there and she was clearly fantasizing again. No, Severus was gone for good, and Hermione was going to stop duping herself by hoping he'd ever come back. Maybe more tequila was warranted.


He withdrew and watched Hermione rummage, making a horrible mess on the floor as she spilled the guts of her wardrobe everywhere. “Ah-ha!” she cried triumphantly, wrenching a red ribbed tank top from some hidden corner. Hermione swapped out her modest knit top and exchanged it for the tight sleeveless shirt.


“Oh, this will never do,” she muttered to herself, before bringing her visible bra straps down, unhooking the garment and lobbing it across the room. Hermione stood and sighed, shaking her freed breasts a bit. Severus was not amused. He stood behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders.


“You’re not going out dressed that way, are you?”


“Uh-huh.”


“It’s indecent.”


“Decent. Good D word. Determination. Decent. Deez Nutz.”


The Apparition was especially jarring because he hadn’t seen it coming, but in a quick second Severus found himself in a garish Muggle club, still hanging onto his witch. He was looking at some rather filthy graffiti which suggested something physically impossible for him and a gerbil to do in either Muggle or magical realms. But considering the condition of his witch, Severus was rather thankful he was in one piece. After a quick scan for ‘spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch,’ he followed her back to the bar.


She planted herself amidst other giggling witches and a thoroughly unwholesome-looking Ginevra Weasley, who was sporting a bridal veil and a generously-sized male genitalia necklace. Several of the partygoers appeared to have attached themselves at the lips and hips to highly suspicious-looking Muggle males. One large redheaded witch was popular with three of them.


Hermione sat at the bar stool, her head propped up on her hand and her glazed eyes dejectedly watching the embarrassing displays of attempted carnal knowledge, with a wistful look. A Muggle with absurdly baggy trousers and a heavy gold chain approached her, and Severus saw the exact moment the thought, Oh, what the hell, crossed her mind. The growl issued forth from his throat was loud enough for several disreputable club patrons to look up from their mobiles at the disturbance.


Severus drew his wand and openly hexed his opponent. The streaking shot of dark blue magical residue went unobserved in the hot, sweltering club. The unwieldy youth stumbled and beat a hasty retreat. Severus’ lady love’s dignity remained intact for the moment, but a club full of hormonal Muggle males intent on mating with any available female was not something he could defend against in his current predicament.


Severus turned on his heel and Apparated away. The sharp crack of Apparition did not even register over the thumping music. He returned home and Jake screamed, dropping his naughty no-no nougat.


“Oh, don’t scare me like that,” he clutched his chest at the shimmering shape.


“I need a change of appearance,” Severus growled, reappearing. “Something more Muggle.” He touched the scar on his neck and quickly Glamoured it. “But nothing too different.”


“Right.” Jake pulled his wand and leveled it at Severus’ crotch. “Just relax,” he soothed, noticing the intense look of discomfort. “I do this all the time.”


Jake Transfigured the well-tailored material into something lighter and baggier. He removed the crease and cuffs and made the front flat. Severus relaxed, and breathed a sigh of relief.


“Take your jumper off, Honey.”


Severus grumbled and pulled his grey crew neck off. Jake pulled out Severus’ Oxford from his belt a bit, ignoring the glare, and made it much larger than any reasonable person would wear. Severus rolled up the cuffs of his sleeve to his elbows and added an additional Glamour to the faint remaining traces of his Dark Mark.


“Fabulous! Now let’s do something about that hair. Oh, don’t you whine at me, you baby, we can grow it out tomorrow.”


The hair was cut into a shaggy Muggle style and lightened. For a moment he caught himself in the reflection from the toaster and grumbled that he’d been given a ‘Harry Potter,’ but his stringy hair actually looked fairly decent when flopping into his eyes.


“And perhaps something with the nose?” Severus growled again. “Right, silly me. We leave the nose. Fine. Blue eyes, fuller lips, cheeks and jawline a bit more filled, and my magic here is done!” Jake babbled as his wand twirled.


The charms would only hold for the day, but it was enough of a minor alteration that he could fool a plastered witch. Severus spent a moment looking at his distorted reflection in front of the toaster before spinning on his heel and appearing in front of ‘Deez Nutz.’


He sighed loudly and muttered, “The things I do for you, Hermione,” before joining the crowd.


All the shortened hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he saw his bride swapping saliva with some greasy teen. The burst of wandless magic sent the boy sprawling and he did not get up. Hermione looked over at his prone form and shrugged.


The club staff picked up and evicted the dazed kid as Severus smoothly strode to the bar and ordered two shots. He placed one in her hand.


Hermione looked up and yelled, “I’m not drinking anymore.”


“It’s not a drink…” At her confusion he clarified, “it’s to kill the bacteria from the clown whose face you were eating.”


“Oh, good point,” she readily agreed downing the shot without thinking.


Severus examined his witch and handed her the second shot just to see if she’d imbibe it. She did, without hesitation. She wasn’t going to leave his side.


“I’m Simon,” he purred in her ear.


“Her-miney.”

She squinted at the Muggle. He looked vaguely familiar in a hazy sort of way, and with his dark looks he almost passed for a Severus stand-in. Well, there weren't any substitutes for Severus, but the Muggle would do.


“So this is your Hen-party?”


“Wish,” she sighed pointing to Ginny who was shimmying on the dance floor, her veil long discarded. “I used to be married. You?”


“No.”


“Liar!” Hermione giggled and pointed to the plain gold band on his left hand.


“Does it matter?” he questioned as the music changed to a softer ambient sound.


Hermione nodded in the affirmative, and grimacing, Severus slipped the ring he hadn’t removed since the day they were wed off his finger and pocketed it. “Look, see,” he murmured to the inebriated witch, holding up an empty hand. “Not married anymore.”


“Like it never even happened,” she sniffled.


“Like it never even happened,” he echoed, softly grabbing her hand and pulling her off the bar stool. “Dance with me, Hermione.”


As he guided his witch on to the lighted dance floor he traded small approving nods of acknowledgement with Miss Weasley and Madam Creevey nee Lovegood. Madam Creevey sported a pink penis tiara on top of her head but, strangely, her choice of adornment did not make her stick out in the crowd.


Hermione pulled him, tugging his arm nearly out of its socket until she found a space away from her friends that suited her, and Severus awkwardly bounced on his heels in time to the music as she gyrated wildly, her hair and wand coming loose. Severus could manage dancing. Dancing was a precise art of timing, footwork, technique, and physical prowess that he understood. There were rules in dancing, and a concept of ‘line of dance’ that was completely lost in the clubs. In the darkened, pulsating club he was unsure of what to do with himself, and the more foreign it felt, the more self-conscious he became. Hermione suffered from no illusions of self awareness and moved freely.


“Hermione,” he caught her in his arms as she spun, and plucked her falling wand out of her hair. “You’re about to lose this.”


She took her wand and stared at it momentarily, nonplussed about what to do with it, before sliding it along her hip and skin tight jeans. Severus shook his head and wished he hadn’t offered her the shots. He’d mostly done it to see if she would, to gauge her rational decision-making skills, and also out of fear that if she sobered up she’d catch on to his identity, but Hermione was gone. His hands slid down her arm and he looked into the eyes of his lost witch. Hermione sniffled and embraced him tightly.


“Please fix this, Severus,” she moaned into his chest.


“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”


He stroked her wild mane and rubbed her shoulder as she buried her face into him, her fingernails digging painfully into his side; but Severus had his arms full of his witch and couldn’t be arsed to care. He cradled her jaw and softly kissed her forehead. “I promise.”


“Take me home, Severus,” Hermione babbled into his shoulder. “Make love to me.”


“Yes, Vixen.”


Severus gently led her through the throngs of bodies to face the alcove she’d first selected, as it did make an adequate hidey-hole from prying eyes. Wrapping her in his embrace, Severus Apparated them to the back door stoop and carried her in his arms to her bedroom, making a place for her amongst all the strewn clothing. She reached for him briefly before laying back, her head rolling. “I’ll be right back.”


A moment later he returned carrying small vials of potions she would need and found his love snoring lightly, hair plastered to her skin.


“Sit up. Drink this,” Severus cradled her head and put the potion to her lips. Hermione slurped it down and licked the dribble from her lips. “Good girl. Good night, Hermione.”


“G’night Severus.”


He flicked out the lights and sighed.


*****


There was a knocking on her skull… there was knocking on her door. It felt like it was in her skull. Hermione grabbed her pillow and rolled over. The damned knocking didn’t stop.


“Go away,” she whined.


“Get up, Little Miss! You’ve slept half the day.”


She didn’t care. “Go. Away!” she tried again.


“Have you forgotten something? Like a dress rehearsal for the wedding?”


“I’m up! I’m up!” she screeched.


“'Bout damn time, too.”


She heard his feet shuffle down the hallway, leaving her in peace. She snuggled into the pillow, until she remembered. Wedding rehearsal. Today. Five o’clock. Non-negotiable. Shit. She’d have to be presentable, which meant mobile and coherent. No rest for the wicked, none at all.


Hermione instantly bolted upright and completely regretted the lamentable action. Oh, nausea! She resolved to find her potions supply as soon as she found her feet. And her wand. Her hand blindly patted the bedside table out of habit and found the smooth wood. She sighed in relief.


She had no recollection of how she got home the night before, but Apparating drunk was never a good idea. Random images flooded her brain, disjointed and vague. Hermione was about to utter a spell for light before the crust of mascara peeled open and she noticed the light of afternoon streaming through the Battenberg lace curtains.


“Fuck!”


She swung her legs over the side of the bed in a move that made her woozier than anything, but spied several hangover and nutritional supplement potions sitting out for her on the bed stand. Hermione smiled. Jake was the best. “My hero,” she swooned with a cheeky grin before greedily downing the potions in rapid succession. The quick jerking of her head as she tilted it back to slurp every last drop made it swim, but she was soon set to rights.


And the digital display of her alarm clock confirmed it was indeed three in the afternoon. Hermione shuffled to the bathroom, grabbing her housecoat on the way. She smelled like a bar. The stench of stale tobacco and cheap liquor sunk into her skin. And though the potions had chased away the lingering fuzz, it did nothing for her hair or skin... or grotty teeth.


A/N:
Chapter title: Cogito Sumere Potum Alterum - I think I'll have another drink
I can now say with 98% certainty that there will be 61 chapters to TGC. This is one of Christev's absolute favorite chapters, so I dedicate it to her.
To my lovely readers and reviewers, I am humbled by your responses. Thank you for your dedication and love. AV