The Gilded Cage

Voracious- Thank you, I wanted him to man-up a bit, and I could care less if Ministry nincompoops quake in their seats. I don't think he cares either... Istanbul not Constantiople...
Golandre- Yes, that hint-hint is there, but it won't be explored 'on-camera.'
Rini- No relatives for Billy, but it's a happy wedding just the same. I think Draco/Jake make a dandy good pairing
katiekrm- It's a small commentary on Marriage Law - they are a bit dubcon when you get into the essence of what it's requiring.
Clairvoyant- There's no such thing as true happy endings, life isn't perfect, but I'm working on one.
thewickedsister- Well, it won't be long before the story is finished either.
neelix- Yes, please get the celebratory glass in hand.
Alina- Thank you, I'm glad it worked for you.
Phoenix Rhapsody- ??? I didn't take it harshly love, I knew you were having a bit of fun with me.
Terpsichore- Oh good. And I love Tink too. She's such a hoot to write.
DawnEB- By another one, you mean another fic? Yep - I'm doing the Severus Big Bang and I'm writing one about Goatherding for ladyinthecloak. Yes, goatherding... with some SSHG.
lemontwist- Thank you. I don't know what I'd write about though...all my plotbunnies are HP.
Heidi191976- Thanks love!
Anathema- *grins* It was quite scathing, eh?
Draco_Lover- Oops! Don't fall off your seat, here it comes. Thanks m'dear!
baesters- As you wish.
rooftopxwars- Thank you m'dear, that's very kind. I hope you continue to enjoy. And Christev's posting on TPP.


Chapter 59 - Da Mihi Basilia Mille


Hermione opened her eyes and looked out into the backyard of Jake’s house. She frowned at the small ever-expandable wedge tent that had been serving as their makeshift production line. R&D had been suspended completely until they could catch up on backorders for product. But that didn’t exactly explain why they were ‘here’ of all places. She was just about to pipe up and query why they weren’t at the Homestead as she’d been expecting, when his fingers lightly touched her elbow guiding her into the back kitchen.


Hermione sat dumbfounded at the kitchen table as Severus reached for a gleaming copper kettle and rummaged through the crisper.


“You’ve been here before,” she stated the obvious rather flatly.


Unless he’d taken up the new hobby of breaking and entering to satisfy his rather unhealthy desire for pickled walnuts, Severus was in contact with Jake. He knew which drawer contained what as he prepared tea and a light fruit platter. She had guessed that Jake might have been helping Severus. Small clues added up. Jake could never leave well enough alone, and he was a terrible liar. She had thought she’d caught his lips twitching to suppress a smile several times while they had discussed Severus, but she’d written it off too easily.


“I live in the cellar,” Severus confessed casually.


Hermione pivoted quickly, turning towards the unremarkable door. Glaring slightly at his back, she made the decision to investigate while he pottered around making tea. The moment the door wrenched back in her hand, she was assaulted by dust, and loudly sneezed.


Severus smirked.


Following her feet down the rickety wooden stairs of the old Victorian home, Hermione marveled at the dirty room he’d inhabited and wondered how he was able to stand without stooping. A small camp bed was against the wall, Crookshanks spread out atop the threadbare quilt and sleeping with one cocked eye. A card table was near the bed, filled with trinkets and books. And a bookshelf faced the bed laden with canned tomatoes and carrots. The layout suspiciously looked a lot like his prison cell had.


“Traitor,” Hermione hissed to the bandy-legged beast as she gave him a good scratch. “You’re going to leave cat hair all over his bedding, you know. I don’t think he’ll like that.” Lazy yellow eyes blinked, saying in an instant that neither cared.


Wandering to the card table, Hermione snooped through the bric-a-brac littering it. A Muggle watch, some loose coinage, cuff links, an Order of Merlin, a spare wand holster and some books.


“The Witch Within,” Hermione read to the silent room before frowning. It was her copy. She turned it over in her hand twice, before inspecting the pages and finding her hand-written notes. Dropping it with a slight thud, she proceeded to inspect all of his books, and discovered, unsurprisingly, that he was worming his way through her library.


“Exceptional Time Management without Time-Turners.” That book was utter rubbish, and set out unrealistic goals only achievable with Time-Turners. Of course there had been those exhausting three weeks where she’d followed her proposed timetable. But cutting all sleep in favor of housework was more taxing than it was worth.


Just overhead the floorboards creaked, and Hermione confessed to herself that she was avoiding him. Giving one last glare to her ginger tomcat, and surveying Severus’ dusty domain, she hefted herself back up the stairs. There was no interest in screaming at him for living below her, skulking about, not when she had seen how…prison-like… his accommodations were.


Dropping heavily back into her chair at the kitchen table Hermione considered their respective positions, and realized that good or bad, whatever came out of their talk, they both needed to move on to healthier places. Preferably without Jake.


Just then the kitchen door swung open and one of her elves in a pinafore apron worn inside out came strolling in. She thought she’d glimpsed one when she left for the wedding, but thought perhaps she was imagining things.


Hermione couldn’t have been more gobsmacked when Severus barked, “What did I tell you? No smoking in the house. Now, get.”


The pint-sized elf shrugged him off and padded out the back door.


Hermione found her voice. “That was…” She struggled for a name. “Tink. Wasn’t it?”


“Stink is more like it,” Severus snorted.


“And smoking!” Hermione shrieked.


Severus nodded, his eyes resolutely focused on the duty of swirling hot water to prepare the pot.


“And you let her smoke, Severus?”


“Are we really going to fight over this?” he challenged her in a tone that clearly conveyed they had more important things to discuss.


“I’m not going let this go,” she sniffed, her feathers ruffled.


“Just what do you propose I do then? Hmmm?” he muttered. “I can’t exactly order her around like a house-elf. She’s a garden-elf,” he clarified.


“Oh… I see,” she said, her brow pinched in a way that meant she didn’t at all. Even from her S.P.E.W days she hadn’t ever heard of a garden-elf. Neither had Severus for that matter, but he suspected she gave herself the title to explain her devious behavior. And Severus could respect that.


“Rehab then?” she suggested.


“Rehab? For an elf? Are you daft, witch? And before you start on me again, answer this: just where are we going to find a rehab program for a nicotine-addicted garden-elf?”


“Oh. I suppose that’s a fair point, but still there have to be some books that–” she was interrupted by Severus abruptly putting his hand up, cutting her off.


“Vixen, you’re avoiding the real discussion at hand,” he said, setting tea out in front of her.


Obnoxiously, Hermione had the most potent desire to pout and stamp her foot. If she had known they were going to talk, she could have prepared her notes and logically organized bullet points. But this… it was like tightrope walking without a net, and what was on the line was their future and any kind of real happiness. Without him, surely she’d grow into an old maid with a grumpy half-Kneazle for companionship. With Severus, her heart clutched with the possibilities of a future.


She hadn’t touched much of her meal before. All appetite was gone completely out the window in favor of nerves, which were crashing down upon her, now that they were alone. But clutching the warm china cup of Severus’ Earl Grey and inhaling the perfume of bergamot was settling her with calm. It was superficial as she struggled with the fight or flight instinct, but Hermione stayed put despite her fears. Staying with him, the need to resolve their mess was stronger.


“Alright, Severus,” she conceded, clutching her teacup.


The only reassurance that she wasn’t alone in her predicament was that Severus looked as distinctly uncomfortable as she felt.


He smiled tightly and drew a sharp breath. “Marriage is a partnership,” he began weakly, apologizing for the cliché with his eyes. Hermione nodded to give him confidence. “And ours was… not.”


Hermione’s heart plummeted. It was difficult and frustrating at times… most of the time, but it was what they had, and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything.


Severus grimaced when confronted by her look of horror, the lines of his face deepening in consternation. “That’s not what I mean. It was… it just. I mean.”


His shoulders slumped as the eloquent bestselling author and lauded orator ran dry of his prepared speech. Writing in the dank cell with parchment and quill was easy. He had no one but the stones to talk to and only his echo for companionship. Thoughts flowed freely when there wasn’t anyone there to judge. Actually speaking to her, when it was the most important thing he could remember ever having to say, was miserable.


“Damn,” Severus whispered. He was cocking it up already. He needed that soft-bellied twit to translate for him, but most likely Jake would be returning home late, if his observations about him and Draco were correct.


Hermione took a fortifying sip of the brew, only barely tasting it. “Oh I don’t know, I kinda liked our marriage,” she offered hopefully.


Severus gave her a grateful look and pulled his chair closer to hers. Plucking the tea out of her hands and setting it aside, Severus gingerly threaded his fingers through hers. “I liked our marriage too,” he rumbled.


Dizzy, lightheaded giddiness melted, replaced by the instant want of her man. Close proximity to the heat of his body, her hands twined with his, made her itch to slide into his lap and follow her instinct.


“Would you like a relationship again?” he asked, his voice not sounding quite as confident, to the witch staring at their joined hands. She lifted her head, her eyelashes wet and her petite mouth working silently as she struggled to answer. The swot with her hand waving in the air to eagerly answer questions seemed to be just as hesitant and choked up as he was.


Hermione wet her lips and spoke from her heart. “I liked our marriage,” she repeated. “It wasn’t the most ideal situation, trekking back and forth to the prison, but we made the best of it.” Her shy sweet smile made his lips turn up with hers.


“We did,” he affirmed.


“But you’re right, it wasn’t a partnership. We were never completely equal. I had the power to take it all away, and you really had nothing over me. And I abused that power.”


Hermione closed her eyes briefly, leaving a fan of dark mascara smudges under her eyes. It was maddeningly cute, Severus thought before shaking his head and pulling a handkerchief from his robe pocket. Hermione gratefully took it and swiped at her leaking eyes with an embarrassed blush. The moment she put the handkerchief down, she pulled his hands closer to her and gripped him possessively.


“It was wrong of me to leave you there like that. To go back on my word,” she sniffed. “We had an agreement, and it worked. Better than I imagined it would. But I should have respected you, your wishes and your needs. I’ve learned a lot about penance and… I should have encouraged you, not dictated to you how you’d serve it.”


“It wasn’t wrong of you to want a real marriage,” he soothed tenderly.


“I suppose,” she shrugged. “Caught between a rock and a hard place I guess.”


“And now?” Severus prompted.


Hermione hadn’t realized it, but he had no desire to revisit the sins of their past. Only to move on to their future, if they had one. As gratifying as it was to hear Hermione clearly admit her part in the breakdown of their marriage, he had only one goal: to put a ring back on her finger. Once bound to him, they could talk about it again, another time. Preferably in tangled sheets.


“And now, now I wish I hadn’t gotten the annulment. I don’t know if I really ever want things to be like they were before… in Azkaban. I really couldn’t have spent a lifetime seeing you there,” she clarified with a worried look. “But I miss our marriage. Today I wished we were still married. I actually wish that most days.”


“As do I.”


Hermione’s face cracked with a wide hopeful grin.


Severus extracted one abused hand from her death-grip and fished again in his robe pocket feeling around for the thin band of gold. It had been laying on her nightstand since she returned from Australia, and he had swiped it before hastening to the wedding.


His mother had been superstitious about recycling wedding rings. She fiercely believed that any unhappiness in a previous marriage could be passed to the new couple through the rings. But his mother had always been able to suck the joy out of any occasion, and he banished her from his thoughts.


Hermione’s eyes hungrily followed the ring, and he knew he would have to badger her to breathe if she didn’t inhale. She was unnaturally still and ashen, her fingers twitching lightly in her lap, as if she were restraining them from reclaiming her small bit of metal.


“Forgive me,” he cleared his throat, still eying her lack of breathing. “I don’t have an engagement ring on me.”


The sound of air filling her lungs broke her sharp silence.


“It isn’t necessary; I’ll marry you today if possible,” she said in a rush, her hands scrabbling forward, wrenching her ring from his fingertips.


Happily, Hermione replaced the band of gold on the third finger of her left hand. It never sat on her right hand. Severus smirked and tapped his own Dillusioned wedding ring, holding it up for her inspection.


“Ground rules, Hermione, there will be ground rules. If you can’t abide by them, tell me now.”


She nodded in agreement, but as much as Severus wanted to take the gesture as understanding that she was giving him carte blanche for everything he wanted, he recognized that she was merely conveying her willingness to listen.


“I will be your husband. Fully. And you, my wife. If you leave my bed or my house, it’s because we’ve agreed on it together. I do not mean to trap you, but I won’t have any more separations unless it’s something that we can’t work through together. Marriage is a partnership,” he grimaced remembering the insipid words of her self-help books. “If we can’t meet and discuss our issues as partners in this marriage, I don’t see how we can make this work.”


Sensing no disagreement, Severus plowed onwards. “No more triple strength Liquid Sunshine, no more hasty decisions. I understand that it’s commonly believed that married couples should not go to bed angry, and I’m not certain if that is reasonable to ask of either you or me, but we can try.


“I know I can be a pigheaded jackass. And you can be a shrill harpy, but I ask that we work through our difficulties together before making life-altering decisions. We both accept this marriage on equal standing. We’re on the same footing now. I have a full pardon and well, we both have the rest of our lives to work out the rest. What say you, Hermione Granger? Will you marry me? Will you finally become Hermione Snape?”


Her absentminded thought was that she had intended to keep her maiden name. She had insisted before that she remain Hermione Granger, but then wasn’t that also part of the problem?


She’d seen Severus as disposable to her life. A convenient husband of no consequence. As shameful as she felt for how she must have done poorly by him, she was being given her second chance. And 'Hermione Snape' sounded like a beautiful thing.


“I’d love to, Severus!” she said breathlessly, climbing into his lap to urgently pepper his face with a rain of kisses.


With great remorse, he pulled her slightly back, taking in her mussed look and slightly parted lips. As much as parts of his anatomy were strongly encouraging her affections, the jubilant celebratory pecks weren’t precisely the attentions he was seeking.


Lazily, Hermione opened her eyes, just briefly before he wrapped her in his arms, burying his face into the join of her neck. Her skin was warm and smelled like home. She had spritzed perfume hours earlier, he could tell; it still lingered faintly on her skin, mixing with the salt of her body from dancing. As he trailed slowly up the column of her neck to her earlobe, Severus tasted her on his tongue.


“That tickles,” she mewled, wriggling slightly in his lap.


Severus smirked, his mouth at her temple, still committing to memory the feel of her wispy strands against his nose, the heat of her skin against his cheek, and the heavenly crush of her soft body in his arms. His witch in his arms again. He’d not cock this up. Never again. Severus turned her to face him, cradling her neck in his hands.


There was a brief hesitation, a meeting of lingering eyes. The fear was there for both of them - rejection had played such a strong role in their lives, but that was the past. In the cinnamon warmth of her eyes, Severus read only longing, and he hoped she saw only the same from him.


The first brush of their lips was just a ghost of softness, a caress. Hermione hummed, pulling back and licking her lower lip, she could feel the remnant of his touch there as if he’d scorched her. Angling her head, insistent on more, there wasn’t any hesitancy in their next kiss. Their lips met, sliding with light pressure that made her head swim drowsily. A light touch of his tongue parted her lips, and she opened to him, welcoming the passion of his kiss.


His hands cupped her cheek and wrapped in her hair cradling her against him, causing the delicate French twist to fall completely out and spill her haphazard curls down her back.


It didn’t matter.


The overwhelming desire to hold and be held by her love, to savor his kiss and the heartbeat beneath her palms, overruled all objections. In the gentle press of bodies, Hermione returned his ardor as best she could. The light rasp of stubble along his cheek was a thrill. The musculature of his shoulders, once so familiar, deserved to be rediscovered. His cloves and peppermint taste, fanning a smoldering flame of desire in her, needed to be devoured.


If they could breathe as one, happily Hermione thought it should be done. Nothing was more important than the man in her arms.


Severus pulled back to breathe, and she possessively twined her fingers in his sable locks.


“More,” she whispered at his lips.


She felt the vibration of his laugh through the press of his chest against her. Her stomach did a quick somersault.


"I was so miserable without you," she confessed mournfully.


Severus smirked, "I had heard that." He nuzzled her ear, tickling the outer shell of her ear with his supple tongue and feeling her sigh against him. "I confess, I was also miserable without you."


"Let's not do that again."


He couldn't agree with her more, but there weren't words to express his feelings.


Her eyelids fluttered closed as she gripped his hair, pulling him down to meet her lips in another demanding kiss she’d been dreaming about since she walked out on him too many painful months ago to recall. Her thoughts abandoned her as his smooth lips parted her mouth, capturing her moan to seal her kiss. Severus’ tongue was warm and inviting as it danced against hers. She could blot out their past with his lips against her own.


“Please don’t stop,” she begged softly, her breath warming his cheek. Hermione's hands aching to rid him of his confounding buttons, to pull his clothing off and strip bare her man. “Please stay with me tonight.”


The guest bedroom with all of it's battenburg lace and toile was not home, and it wasn't what she'd had in mind, but if they could stumble that way and fall into bed, maybe it would solidify everything between them.


“No, Hermione.”


It pained him to play these games. She was his witch and would always be his witch; the nonsense she’d concocted about their annulment would never be right. The wizarding world did not believe in divorce and neither did Severus, and though her body had never been totally his, her heart belonged to him. Just as his heart belonged to her. Of that he held no doubt. But he couldn’t afford to risk it again, not to her playful whims.


She had it within her power to destroy him, and he could never be so vulnerable again. ‘Tie her to you. Bind her to your soul. Entwine your essences as man and wife. As it should be,’ these thoughts raced through his head and as he reluctantly pulled back and witnessed the crushing blow of true tears welling up thickly in her eyes, he knew it would be for the best.


They could only move forward, they had to move forward; neither could afford to return to where they had been.


“But soon,” he shushed, placing a finger on her quivering lip. “Soon, Hermione. When I make you mine. Forever. No more annulments, no more games. You will be my wife and take your place in my bed.”


It wasn’t posed as a question, but he steeled his heart for her rejection. A stifled sob broke out from his witch just as she buried her head into his chest leaning on his frame for strength. He held her tight and rested his own face against her mass of curls. Her face was red and blotchy, puddles of tears framed her eyes and slight tremors still raced through her, but she kissed him again gently and Severus allowed himself to be warmed by her love.


It would be alright. They would endure. He would have his witch, and she would have her wizard, as it was meant to be.


“And when I do claim you as mine, wife, there will be no question of it.”


She giggled and hiccuped at the same time, a most unbecoming act on most females, but not on his Hermione. She was perfect. She was everything.


"Tonight, then?" she asked suddenly, taking him off guard.


"Tonight, what?" The apprehension he felt creeping into his voice.


Hermione rolled her eyes. "You asked me to marry you, can we do it tonight? Right now would be preferable."


Severus blinked rapidly at her, not entirely processing this new line of thinking. His entire goal had been to get her to accept him and build a new life together, but that seemed likely to take place in the distant future. He'd also assumed she'd want a wedding of some sort, with uncomfortably stiff robes and organ music.


"I'm not sure we can get married at this hour, Hermione," he said slowly eying the kitchen clock. The sun had set and a hard blowing winter's wind was turning the night into the perfect evening to wrap her up in blankets and sip chocolate in the front room.


"Why not?" she countered with her stubborn chin. Hermione was hell-bent to prove herself. Unwittingly, Severus had issued a challenge to her, 'be his wife,' and she would not be found lacking. And she would not ever again spend weeks on end sniveling on a friend's couch. No, never again.


Reading Gryffindors, especially when they had an idea up their snout, was painfully easy; unfortunately Severus knew well enough that she would not let the idea go until she'd exhausted herself in the process.


"What did you have in mind?" he asked, patting himself on his shoulder for seeking a resolution through possible compromise. (It was a chapter in the book she had underlined and highlighted.)


Hermione smiled mischievously, and Severus was instantly on point. "Hermione," he asked with a warning voice, dreading what was coming, even if he got to make her his bride. She scrabbled up from his lap, kissed the top of his head and disappeared into her guest room. As much as his knees and thighs were relieved by the loss of her weight, Hermione belonged there, squirming against his groin and within a kissable distance.


She reentered the room with a fat blue folder in her hands and Severus 'tsk'd.' He would not be thrown over for working on Granger Industries, but then everything with her was organized into fat blue folders.


"Phillipe Hodgeport," She announced. "I bet I can look his address up online."


"Who?" Severus asked bewildered.


"Phillipe Hodgeport," Hermione repeated rolling her eyes. "He was the Ministry stooge they sent to perform our marriage. Did you know he lost his job over that? I always felt guilty about it."


"And?" Severus gruffly asked. Honestly, he couldn't give two shits about some Ministry underling when there were curls to wind around his fingers and napes to nuzzle.


"You want to get married," she said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Correction, we want to get married," Hermione couldn't withhold her wide grin, and Severus knew he'd entered the land of the land of a married man. Hermione had him completely, and he might as well hand over his passport and wallet now, and take up saying 'yes, dear' at every opportunity. There wasn't much he wouldn't do to make her happy or smile like that.


"I figure," Hermione continued, "that if he manages to marry us a second time, and we ask nicely, maybe we can get him his job back."


"Why on earth would I care about that?"


"Because it's the right thing to do. And don't you want to marry me?" she asked in a peevish and uncertain
voice. There would be no uncertainty. No, if Hermione wanted to marry him right that night, Severus was the wizard to do it.


"I just thought you wanted a wedding," he grumbled loud enough.


"No. Weddings are... nice, but it's our marriage that's most important." She flashed him another broad grin and Severus found he really couldn't argue. Yep, the witch already had him by his bollocks. Well, it would mostly be a partnership.


She pulled out her laptop and tapped the keys lightly and letters flew across the screen as he looked over her shoulder. Amazing witch. She could type quickly and without stubbing her fingers.


"Ah-ha!" she proclaimed after a moment. "I have an address, and it's close by. I bet we can take Jake's car. Feel like dropping by?"


"Absolutely."


"And maybe afterwards we can go out for late night beer and pizza." Her tummy loudly announced that it wished to be fed now that she was over her bout of nerves.


"I assure you Vixen, that's not how we will spend our wedding night."


A/N:
Chapter title: Da Mihi Basilia Mille - Kiss me with a thousand kisses

Lots of love to Christev for betaing this. Even when she was supposed to be someplace else...hm? I saw that laptop in front of you when you were singing! I know TGC was on it! *grins* She was gone for the week and I was utterly incapable without her. I couldn't even do my Saturday Night Drabbling.

My heart to everyone who's read and reviewed.