A law to herself

Hermione spent the next morning on tenterhooks. For once, she found herself almost entirely unable to concentrate on her work. The sensible side of Hermione knew that Snape had no free periods in the morning, so the earliest he could raise the issue with Dumbledore was lunch – a supposition confirmed when both of them were absent at lunchtime – and that she had a free period almost immediately after lunch which would be the logical time for her to be summoned to the Headmaster’s office.

It didn’t stop her fretting though.

She fretted through breakfast – what if Snape changed his mind? – and she fretted through Transfiguration which earned her a sharp look from Professor McGonagall. She fretted through Charms – what if Dumbledore said no? – and realised with horror that she was staring at Malfoy in a very peculiar way that could pass for lecherous. He certainly seemed to think so.

She would have fretted through lunch – but the boys told her to stop worrying her, and she did find that the chocolate mousse put an end to her worries for a few minutes. By the time she arrived at the Library, expecting a summons almost immediately, she discovered she was all fretted out.

She was deep into ‘Poisons: their uses and abuses’, when a tall figure loomed over her, blocking out the light. “If I were you,” Snape said, “I’d be a little more discreet in reading that. People might draw entirely the right conclusion.”

Hermione jumped, startled; Snape was clearly amused by her reaction. “The Headmaster wants to see you in his office. Dear me, Miss Granger, what can you have been doing to upset him?”

She followed him dutifully out of the Library. “How has he taken the news?” she said quietly.

“Very badly, as we hoped.” Snape had clearly been enjoying himself.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Hermione couldn’t prevent an answering smirk crossing her face. As they reached Dumbledore’s office, she realised that they hadn’t discussed what tactics they were going to use. “What on earth do you want me to say,” she hissed, slightly panicked. She was a girl who liked to be prepared.

Snape smirked at her, and said, “I can safely say, Miss Granger, that you should do nothing other than be yourself.” Then he had ushered her into the office, and all opportunity to puzzle out his meaning was lost.

“Miss Granger.” Albus was very clearly unhappy. He wasn’t twinkling at all; in fact, he had an expression of such sourness that it brought to mind her mother’s expression when Hermione forgot to clean her teeth. Hermione didn’t think a man who had had the sheer audacity to propose marriage to a girl some hundred years his junior had any business looking so superior.

Her jaw firmed, and she stepped forward briskly until she was standing in front of his desk.

He didn’t offer her a seat. Severus, on the other hand, was waved irritably to a chair next to her. He made himself ostentatiously comfortable. Hermione was reminded very powerfully of how much she disliked Professor Snape on occasion, and, judging from the faint smile that flickered over his face, he was well aware of it.

It was as nothing to the sheer hatred she felt to the foul old man behind the desk. She wouldn’t put it past him to be using Legilimency on her at the moment, so she dwelled in loving detail on her plans to bring down the law. Let him see exactly what sort of bargain he would be getting.

Snape’s advice to be herself flashed into her mind, and she felt her irritation with him intensify. Of course that was what he meant by be yourself: be bossy, be stroppy, and make an old man think that he was biting off more than he could chew.

Fine.

She took a seat, which earned her a still further disapproving stare from the Headmaster, but he didn’t have the nerve to comment on her rudeness. “Professor Snape tells me that you are considering Malfoy’s offer on behalf of his son,” he began.

“I am.” Clipped, brusque, to the point, and certainly not affording him the respect due to his position.

“I’m afraid that, as the head of the Order of the Phoenix, I must forbid you this course of action. We will obviously have to find some other candidate for you…” hilediled kindly at her. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“In the first place, Headmaster, I’m not a full member of the Order.” Something that had allowed them to keep the three of them conveniently in the dark, whilst still ordering them around, and that still rankled even now. “Secondly, whilst any help that the Order could offer would be carefully considered, it is for me and me alone to decide who I will marry.”

Snape had his attention very firmly fixed on her. He was beginning to remind her of Crookshanks at his most superior. If he were a cat he would be turning his back on the Headmaster and grooming his tail in patent disinterest. This hadn’t escaped the Headmaster, who was shooting Snape surreptitious glances of irritation. Snape’s ability to get up people’s noses by doing nothing more than being in the same room with them was paying dividends.

Any minute now, Albus would wash his hands of the whole affair and decide that two such awkward people deserved each other.

“After all,” she added, determined to add fuel to the flames, “the Malfoys are a very wealthy and powerful family. They can afford to pay for childcare whilst I pursue a career in politics. I’m sure Lucius would be only too delighted to regain some of his influence at the Ministry, wouldn’t you agree Professor?”

Professor Snape pretended to consider the issue. “I do think that Lucius would support you in anything that would advance his position. He may be prejudiced, but he’s not stupid.”

“But that’s precisely the point, Miss Granger,” Albus spluttered. “Lucius is a very dangerous man.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” said Hermione gravely, “And I would never forgive myself if harm came to someone I loved or respected…” here she had to swallow her gorge at her hypocrisy “… because I had refused Lucius’s offer.”

The Headmaster clearly hadn’t thought of that, and now he had thought of that, he didn’t like the look of it, not one little bit. Malfoys were notorious for ensuring that people who crossed them had short, painful lives or, occasionally, just for the novelty value, long and painful lives. Lucius couldn’t do anything too drastic, but he could certainly make a governor’s meeting a living hell.

“You may be right, Miss Granger, though I must say I’ve always found Lucius to be very easy to manage,” Snape said smugly. “He knows better than to irritate me.”

Albus was glancing between them like an umpire at a tennis match; any minute now the penny would drop and he would … “Of course, there is another candidate you might want to consider, Miss Granger. Professor Snape. I’m sure Severus can understand the need for you to be kept out of the hands of the Malfoys.”

“Indeed I can Headmaster, they would only break such a woman of spirit.” Hermione realised that the peculiar expression on his face was intended to be a leer. Albus was disconcerted by Snape’s apparent agreement, and sudden interest in Hermione’s person, but relaxed when Snape continued, “Of course, my present salary is insufficient to support a wife in the style she clearly wishes to become accustomed to.”

That was language he could understand. I’m prepared to do your dirty work for you, but I want payment.

Hermione was impressed rather than offended by Snape’s determination to wring some sort of concession out of the Headmaster. She felt rather smug about her decision to marry him; he was clearly going to be very helpful in her political campaign, whether he realised it yet or not.

There followed ten minutes of hard bargaining. When Snape’s said that he needed extra money to support his wife, the Headmaster pointed out that board and lodging was free, and would continue to be free for his wife. Snape replied that his wife would obviously need robes and ‘other feminine fripperies’; Albus had to concede the point. And of course there would be the children……

In the end, Professor Snape managed to get a twenty percent increase on his stipend. A stipend that could only be called miserly, even after his pay rise. Short of levering open Albus’s mouth and extracting his gold teeth, it didn’t appear that there was any more on offer.

Her acquiescence was taken for granted by both parties, which did nothing to improve her temper at all. She was grateful when the Headmaster dismissed them with,
“I’m sure you and young Miss Granger here have lots to discuss about the wedding.” He clearly wanted them out of his office as quickly as possible; the feeling was mutual.

Barely ten seconds later she found herself back in the corridor. She found herself resting her forehead against the cool, stone wall, and shaking with reaction. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,” she said, over and over again.

“Miss Granger.” Snape’s voice was surprisingly gentle. She turned, to find him looking at her with understanding. Yes, she supposed he had suffered longer at the hands of the Headmaster than she had.

“He’s supposed to be on our side,” she said fiercely, not caring if she sounded naïve.

“I rather think we’re supposed to be on his side,” was all he said in reply, but it was enough. “Now, I think you’ve got fifteen minutes until your next class, which should give you enough time to find your friends and bring them up to date.”

She nodded. “Professor? Do you still want to meet tonight to discuss things? And shall I still bring Harry and Ron?”

“I suppose that pleasure is unavoidable,” he sighed. “Now run along to class or I will be forced to deduct points from Gryffindor, and we know how much I hate doing that.”

Hermione grinned at him, and headed off at a brisk trot. She was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t deduct points for running in the corridors.





The boys had been surprised to hear that the Headmaster had given in so easily, and even more surprised to hear of Professor Snape’s invitation to attend the planning session- although it might have been more of an instruction than an invitation.

They were flabbergasted to be offered tea and biscuits on their arrival, even if the biscuits were plain and hard. There were no chocolate biscuits, which Ron thought was shabby.

There was a stilted quality to the conversation: milk, two sugars, yes another biscuit would be nice. Ron’s noisy slurping echoed round the room. Hermione thought her decision not to marry Ron had been utterly right; one day alone of having to listen to that over breakfast, without the din of the Hall to ameliorate it, and she’d have resorted to bloody murder.

The faint glint of amusement in Professor Snape’s eyes suggested he’d been reading her mind, although her faint wince and quickly subdued look of irritation would be enough to give it away to an astute observer.

Hermione fumbled in her satchel and brought out a list, no point in delaying things any longer.

“Blimey, Hermione,” said Ron, “not another one!” Seeing Professor Snape’s quizzical look, he added, “She has a list for everything: when to do her homework, when we should do our homework, what books she’s got out of the library, when everyone’s birthday is, everything.”

“It always pays to be prepared, Ron,” she said primly. “At least I never forget your birthday.”

“What’s that then, the guest list?” Ron laughed.

Professor Snape visibly flinched.

“Don’t be silly, it’ll be just me and my parents. No one else.” Hermione was busily reading through her list; when she raised her head, both boys were looking at her in dismay.

“But what about us?” asked Harry. “Yurelurely can’t expect to get married without us being there.”

“We’re your best friends after all. We have to be there,” added Ron.

There was a pause, whilst the trio very carefully didn’t look at Professor Snape.

“I see no reason,” he said deliberately, “why your two partners-in-crime can’t accompany you to the wedding. Presumably it will be at a weekend?” Hermione shrugged; it depended on the register office. “It seems to me that it would draw less attention if I were to escort all three of you to some mystery destination, rather than you alone Miss Granger. I had thought we would try and keep this a secret until the end of the school year.” There was an underlying note of enquiry to that last statement.

“As much as possible,” she agreed easily. “I don’t think either of us would like to deal with the reaction when the news breaks. Most of Gryffindor will have a fit, and I imagine the teachers would be just as vociferous. Pro Professor Snape nodded. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to hearing Minerva’s views on the marriage.

He peered over Hermione’s shoulder and was amused to note that the entry relating to him was two words, Ask Snape, underlined three times and flanked with asterisks. It had already been crossed out. As he watched Hermione drew a thick black line through the entry marked Deal with Dumbledore. The capital letter carried a distinct suggestion of murder and blackmail with it.

Ron had managed to overcome his natural fear of Snape quite nicely, to his displeasure, and felt quite able to ask him, “How on earth did you manage to persuade the Old Codger that you were the best man for the job.”

There was a brief pause whilst Ron realised what he had said, and desperately floundered for some way to remove his foot from his mouth. “I mean, obviously you are the right man for the job, I just wondered …” His voice faltered away in the face of Snape’s flat look of contempt.

“He was wonderful, Ron,” Hermione said, trying to smooth over the situation. “He played Albus like ddleddle.”

Professor Snape allowed himself to be mollified; after all, it was true. “I merely pointed out to Albus that Miss Granger is awfully bossy, difficult to manage, and likely to be more than an old codger like him can manage.”

“I am in the room,” said Hermione frostily, glaring at the boys who were torn between laughter at the accuracy of his description and horror at Hermione’s likely reaction.

Severus however was enjoying himself, and wasn’t going to allow the small matter of Miss Granger’s sensibilities to get in the way of showing off. “Not to mention the suggestion that Malfoy was unlikely to take rejection well, and had a nasty habit of making his views on that matter known.”

“Which I made,” put in Hermione, determined that if showing off was going to take place, she was going to get her fair share.

“Which you made,” agreed Severus. “By the time we’d finished, I’m not sure whether he was more frightened at the thought of taking on Lucius or a 17 year old girl, but he was certainly happy to hand over the whole nasty business to me.”

Hermione and Severus exchanged glances of mutual congratulation, entirely unaware of the boys’ interest in this byplay.

“So, now that I have managed to persuade Albus that I should be marrying Miss Granger, what’s next on the list?” asked Severus.

“My parents,” Hermione said, looking pale. “And they aren’t going to be happy, not one little ”
”

“Have you told them anything about the law?” he asked. “Or me?” He couldn’t imagine many people would receive the news that their daughter intended to marry her teacher who was nearly twice her age with enthusiasm.

“I did send them an Owl yesterday telling them about the law. I haven’t told them who I was going to marry. Firstly, because I didn’t know that you were going to agree.” She made that point earnestly, well aware of Snape’s capacity for being awkward at the slightest provocation or, indeed, none at all; no point alienating him now, not until his ring was on her finger. “Secondly, I think this is going to come better from me in person rather than in a letter.”

She shot a glance at Snape, and then put her head back down to study her piece of paper with remarkable intensity. “I thought,” she said, talking to her list, “that it would be better if we went together; perhaps this weekend?”

“That seems reasonable,” he said. “In their place I would want to meet my future son-in-law.” He was struck by a horrible thought. “You wouldn’t expect me to dress like a Muggle?”

Hermione gave him a considering look, then sighed. “No. I don’t suppose it would make any difference anyway.”

Fortunately, before Snape had a chance to be offended at Hermione’s very obvious opinion that he didn’t come up to scratch as a prospective husband, Ron said, “Actually, I think robes would be better. If you think about it, Hermione, you’re going to be telling your parents that Professor Snape can protect you from Malfoy. The more …” here he paused, obviously being very careful about his choice of words, “… the more, striking his appearance the better. You don’t want him looking like any old Muggle; you want him looking like a dangerous Wizard.”

Professor Snape stu studied critically by three pairs of eyes assessing him on his ability to convey a threat by his simple presence; he evidently passed muster, as the topic was allowed to drop.

“So, once you’ve got your parents sorted out, what’s next?” asked Ron.

“Just the arrangements for the wedding itself. I don’t really know what we’re supposed to do, although I think we have to get a licence, and I know that they have to give their consent because I’m underage. Other than that, I’ve no idea,” she said. “I thought I’d leave it up to my parents, and then we’d just turn up at the Register Office on the day.”

“Register Office?” asked Snape. “I thought Muggles got married in churches.”

“Some do,” replied Hermione. “Some get married in Register Offices. The marriage is just as valid as one in a Church, but they’re easier to arrange at short notice. That is alright isn’t it?” she asked, worried he might think she was making too many decisions without consulting him.

“I’m sure that will be acceptable. I was merely uncertain what the process involved. I presume on this occasion, Muggle dress will be required.”

Hermione’s lips twitched at the thought of appearing before the Registrar in wizarding robes. “I think so, Professor,” she said. “Do you have any Muggle clothes?”

“No, Miss Granger.”

“I’ll add that to the list then.” There was a faint look of anxiety on Snape’s face; it wasn’t difficult to divine the reason. “A plain, black suit will be alright, won’t it?” she asked.

Snape nodded with ill-concealed relief.

“I think that’s it then,” Hermione said, gathering her things together. “Unless you have anything you want to add, Professor.”

“Yes, well, er, if I could have a word with you in private?” he asked.

The boys took the hint, and scarpered; they weren’t sure how long this reasonable Snape was going to last. It was unnatural.

Hermione waited for him to say something whilst she packed away her list. After a few minutes awkward silence, she looked up at Snape. He was blushing, she was sure of it, a faint tinge of colour, but a blush all the same.

“Did you want to talk about the sex?” she said helpfully.

“Good god, no!” he blurted, going even redder. “Is that all you students ever think about?”

Hermione felt mildly indignant; what else was she supposed to think when he was acting like some blushing schoolgirl, too embarrassed to speak? And of course she’d been thinking about sex with Snape, ever since she’d hit on the idea of proposing. Last night she’d had a nightmare about being swooped on by a giant vampire bat, and you didn’t have to be Freud to work out that symbolism. “Then what did you want to tell me,” she said mildly, quashing her irritation.

“I was thinking that we ought to include a trip to my family lawyers,” he said. “A wizarding marriage contract also covers the financial side of things. We ought to have some sort of agreement in place before we married, to deal with property and bank accounts and things like that.”

“Worried I’ll run off with all your money?” she asked, amused.

“Under magical law, everything a wife owns is her husbands property. It’s rather more a question of making sure I won’t run off with your money,” he replied.

“Oh.” Hermione thought about that for a moment. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but it couldn’t do any harm to set things out in black and white. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll make the arrangements then, perhaps after we’ve seen your parents. Always assuming that they agree, of course.”

She simply nodded, and headed for the door. She paused, with the door half open, when he added awkwardly, “And about the sex, well, there’s no actual rush is there?”

“No, there isn’t.” She paused, uncertain whether to push matters further, then pressed on. “I’m not sure that putting it off is a good idea; it won’t make it any easier in the long run.”

“I’d just rather wait until you had left school, if possible,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.

Hermione felt a like a virgin sacrifice that had been rejected by the dragon for being too stringy, but she repressed her hurt; it wasn’t as if she was keen on having sex with him either. “Ok,” she said.

“I suppose most men would be envious,” he said bitterly. “I’m marrying a passably attractive woman, who’s half my age. It seems to be most middle-aged men’s fantasy.”

Passably attractive, he thought she was passably attractive? That was very nearly a compliment. Not that that was the point.

“I understand,” Hermione said, and she did. It was one thing to contemplate having sex with a stranger; it was another thing entirely to contemplate breaking the taboo about relationships between pupils and staff. “If it helps, I promise not to wear my Head Girl’s badge to bed, just in case, we have to, you know, before the end of the school year.”

Professor Snape gave a snort of laughter, quickly suppressed. “Oddly enough, I think it will.”

Hermione said seriously, “You do know, I’m very grateful for this.”

Snape’s features softened for a moment, then the Slytherin mask descended again. “And you do know I’m only doing it to annoy Albus and Lucius,” he said briskly.

Hermione didn’t know where the impulse came from, or the courage to carry it out, but she walked across the room, stood on tiptoe and kissed the cheek of a very surprised Severus. “I hope,” she said, “that once I’ve left school we can be friends at least. I think I’d like that.”

She left the room before he had a chance to reply. Severus looked after her, and, very softly, said, “I think I’d like that too.”