The Rules of Engagement

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Chapter 8

Snape Manor

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Reality swirled, dipped, flipped, then righted itself. Hermione clung tightly to the man that had brought her here. The arms around her loosened, but did not let go, as she tried to regain her balance. Looking up, she met his dark gaze for a moment, but then he looked off in the distance behind her. Turning around, she saw what had captured his attention. It was a stone structure, very old, but well tended. Ivy grew over part of the face softening the appearance, but not enough to overwhelm the eye.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked as she looked around.

“Snape Manor,” Severus said, offering her his arm again.

“Really?” she asked. An amused quirk came to his lips.

“Really,” he said. Snape Manor? Severus was taking her to his family home? Locking her arm in his, she let him lead her up the path. “I thought it might be of interest to you, since as a Snape, this would be your primary residence,” Severus said.

Hermione looked back at the manor with some trepidation. She was struck by the wayward thought that this is where the next generation of Snapes would be raised. This is where Severus had been raised as a child.

“Would you like to see the gardens?” he asked with a hint of pride.

“Yes, I would,” Hermione said, smiling up at him.

They walked around the side of the house to the back. Severus drew her attention to many points of interest including a very large old tree he said, had been his favorite to climb as a boy. Hermione studied the man, trying to picture the boy, he had once been; laughing, running and climbing trees. Severus turned a questioning look to her.

“I was just wondering what you were like as a boy. Do you have any pictures here?” she asked, expecting to be told to mind her own business, but he merely nodded.

“I am sure Wubby has a few.”

Hermione didn’t get to ask who Wubby was because a house elf popped into view in front of them. Her jaw tightened at the thought that Severus kept house elves, but she supposed all the old pureblood families had elves.

“Oh, Master Snape, sir. You are here. Wubby will be so pleased. So pleased, indeed, sir,” the small creature gushed excitedly.

“Good afternoon, Tinker. This is Miss Granger, the young lady I told you about. And I have told you before to call me Severus. For Merlin’s sake, we grew up together.”

“OH NO, Master Snape! Wubby would make Tinker’s ears into a tea cozy for showing such disrespect.” Severus sighed beside her. This was obviously a very old argument between them.

“Who is Wubby?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Wubby is Head elf for all the House of Snape,” Tinker interjected proudly.

“Do not make it sound so grand, Tinker, there is only me after all.” Severus turned to her explaining, “There are only the two elves here now.”

“Have the others been freed?” Hermione asked hopefully.

“Oooooh, Noooo, Miss! Master would NEVER do anything so cruel,” Tinker said, his eyes as big as bludgers. “Master is very good to Wubby and Tinker. I will go tell Wubby Master has arrived.”

“Tinker, let her know we will takeTea in the front parlor and I will be in to see her before we leave.”

“Yes, Master Snape, sure thing,” the elf said before disappearing with a pop.

“What happened to the other house elves? Hermione asked.

“They were given to distant relatives. Wubby is old and would not hear of leaving me with only Tinker to tend the house. She is . . . different from other house elves you have met.” Hermione wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

The tour of the gardens was very interesting, even for this time of year. There were separate areas for a kitchen garden, a potions garden and strangely enough, a cut flower garden. During the hour or so they wandered the gardens, enjoying the mild sunny day, Severus seemed to take pleasure in quizzing her on different plants and their uses. The potions garden was a breeze, but the kitchen garden proved more difficult.

“I’m afraid I don’t cook. I help out some, when I’m home on holidays, but I could burn water as they say,” Hermione said, then she was startled to hear a chuckle from the man beside her.

“As proficient as you are at potions, I am certain you could learn how to cook if you liked,” Severus said, then he began leading her back towards the house.

“Can you cook?”

“Yes, of course. Not that I get the opportunity often, but it is something I enjoy.” He held the door open for her and once inside, he took her cloak and his and hung them up. The tour continued, as he showed her around the house. From the formidable exterior, Hermione would never of expected the inside to feel so . . . homey. The rooms were on a grand scale to be sure, but the furnishings had a comfortable lived-in feel, even though Severus must not come here more than a few times a year.

Once he had shown her around the more formal areas, Severus lead her upstairs to the private living quarters. The bedrooms were tasteful and inviting, with the fall light streaming through the windows. One room of particular interest to Hermione was the family library. The room was lined with many tomes, volumes and even some muggle books to her surprise. She pulled out one muggle book of the occult and looked at him questioningly.

“My mother thought muggles were . . . quaint. She liked reading their explanations for natural magic,” he said, watching her with fascination. “There is also a fair selection of classic muggle literature.”

Hermione smiled at the obvious pride he had in the collection and in his mother. She had always assumed the Professor had had an unhappy childhood.

“Do you come here often?” she asked, while perusing the shelves.

“As often as I can. Holidays mostly,” Severus explained. He sat down in one of the chairs with a large volume. Hermione sat down in the adjacent chair, watching him. He opened the book and was skimming a page. Furrowing her brow, she tried to picture him here, relaxed and reading for pleasure. Had she ever seen him relaxed? Even now, when it was just the two of them, he was very much controlled. She let out a little sigh at the thought of his unease around her. He looked up meeting her eyes.

“Why did you bring me here, Severus?” Hermione had to ask. The last thing Severus Snape was, was boastful. So why show off the estate to her. He closed the book, laying it on the table beside him.

“I thought there were some things we should discuss and I preferred privacy.” He clasped his hands on his lap, gazing at her evenly. Hermione relaxed into her chair. Now this was making some sense.

“What is it you wished to discuss?” There was a heavy pause as her question hung in the air.

“You may not be aware, but Lucius was watching you Friday evening.” Hermione’s eyes widened and the only intelligent response she could come up with was to say ‘oh’.

“He assumed I was sent after the two of you to chaperone, by the Headmaster. He willingly told me of his plans for you.” Severus clasped his hands tighter and looked at them.

“What are they?” she asked softly. Again he paused, as if weighing his words carefully.

“Lucius knows of Draco’s preference for . . . men. Lucius planned on enjoying you himself, then impregnating you to ensure an heir.” Hermione’s breathing had become uneasy at the thought of what the likes of Malfoy senior might find enjoyable. And Lucius knew about Draco? Oh, no.

“Would . . . Do you think . . . Lucius would do the same to anyone Draco married?” Hermione asked. The dark man’s gaze returned to her, his brow knit, seeming taken aback by her question.

“I cannot be certain, but Lucius appeared to hold a particular loathing for you.”

Hermione was a little relieved, perhaps Draco’s plan to marry Hannah could work out after all. “Did you tell him about the other petitions?”

“Yes. He felt that removing Mr. Green would be no problem for him. Lucius was, however, not pleased to find out I had sent in a petition for you,” Severus said with a sneer.

“Do you think that will be enough to make him back off?”

“No. He was livid and Lucius does not give up easily. Another good reason to come here today. I knew we would be safe here,” Severus said. Always thinking, Hermione thought to herself.

“Let me show you the rest of the rooms before Tea,” he said, standing. Hermione stood as well and felt him place his hand on her back lightly to guide her out the door, his touch warm and reassuring. There was most assuredly more Severus wanted to talk about, but he was not ready just yet.

After seeing a few more bedrooms, the ladies parlor, amazingly luxuriant bathrooms, and a very masculine study, they came to the last door. Severus paused for a moment before opening the door, looking at her, as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. Hermione looked back at him, appreciating the depth of his eyes viewed from this close, a lovely bitter chocolate brown. As she watched, a light came to his eyes and a slight up turn of his lips, before showing her into the room.

The room wasn’t large, by the standards of the rest of the house, but cozy. The walls, what could be seen of them, were a robin egg blue. There was shelving on two walls holding books, toys, stuffed animals and such. This was Severus’ boyhood bedroom. Hermione smiled at him, as he sat on the bed covered in white. Such a large man seemed out of place on the small bed and indeed in a room filled with the playthings of youth.

“This was your room,” Hermione said. Severus nodded. She looked around at the books lining the shelves, the models which included a scale model of Hogwarts and the stuffed toys which included several dragons. A warmth burst in her chest as she picked up one quite sad looking dragon, who had once been red, but was now faded from years of love. She could almost picture the small black haired boy clutching his beloved dragon in the night. Placing him carefully back on the shelf, she turned back to find Severus watching her, his legs together and his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. A pose she must have seen countless times from Harry and Ron with no effect, but looking at Severus, it made him appear more accessible.

“I was not sure I wanted to bring you in here. I do not want to hear tales of this coming back to me from my students,” he said, in a mockingly stern voice. Hermione laughed softly.

Standing up, she walked over to stand next to him, looking at him eye to eye nearly since he was sitting. A sudden impulse over took her and she leaned over, placing her hand on his cheek and kissed him. He didn’t respond, shocked probably, but he didn’t pull away either. As she pulled back, Severus’ eyes snapped open and searched hers.

“I thought every boy dreamed of bringing a girl up to his room for a kiss,” Hermione said, softly. Severus cleared his throat and stood up.

“It must be nearly Tea time,” he said, leading her out of the room. Hermione didn’t know if she had just made things easier between them or more difficult.

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Severus sat in the armchair staring blankly into his teacup. Why had she done it? Why would Hermione kiss him? He had taken her into his old room, so she could see he was human after all. In his mind he snorted, seems to have worked since she kissed me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Hermione said, from the sofa. They had come down to the front parlor to find Tea had already been laid out for them. Hermione had poured the tea for both of them and they sat in silence for several minutes. He didn’t mean to be rude, but Severus just could not think of anything to say.

“You did not embarrass me, Hermione. It was a kind gesture,” he said, but could not bring himself to look at her just yet.

“I often get impulses to say or do things and can’t seem to stop myself,” she said, setting her teacup on the table with a sigh. Her youthful face appeared worried.

“Life will squash that out of you soon enough, have no fear,” he said, taking a sip of his now cold tea.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Hermione asked, watching him rather intently.

“No, that is why we are here,” Severus said carefully, hoping her Gryffindor curiosity would not make her ask about his time as a Death Eater. That was still a subject he was trying hard not to remember, much less talk about. She looked uncomfortably at her hands as they were wringing on her lap. Severus steeled himself for the worst.

“Harry told me about a memory he saw, when you were instructing him in Occulmency. The one of your father . . .” Severus held up his hand.

“I know which memory you are referring to and that was not my father. The man in the memory was my uncle.” He was only somewhat relieved at this line of discussion, but she would have to know sooner or later. Severus sat forward and stared at nothing in particular, as he worked through his memories.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Hermione offered. He looked up into her kind eyes and knew he would tell her everything.

“I would like to, I think,” he said. “My uncle, Sylvan Snape, stayed here in the manor off and on. It is the family home, so my father never felt he could turn his brother away.” He paused, taking a deep breath, then pressed on. “Wizards can be just as affected by the demons of excess as muggles and unfortunately my uncle’s personal demon was alcohol.” Hermione was watching him, he could almost feel the strength she was trying so valiantly to send him.

Severus stood and crossed slowly to one of the front windows, gazing out onto the front lawn. There were moments when he was here, he felt like that little boy again and the rest of his life seemed like a distant bad dream. He crossed his arms and leaned against the window frame.

“The memory that was described to you was a bad one. I had passed the study and saw my uncle was drinking again. I hated when he drank because he became harsh and abusive under the influence of liquor. Even purebloods cannot control their magic when they are young. I remember thinking ‘why can he not just drink pumpkin juice’ and apparently, I thought it so hard, it became reality. Every bottle of liquor in the house was filled with pumpkin juice.” A soft chuckle sounded near him. Hermione was leaning on the opposite side of the window. He gave her a small sad smile.

“My uncle did not find it humorous, in the least. He chased me downstairs in a rage. My mother stepped in between us, trying to protect me. My uncle struck her. My father came storming into the room, saw my mother and I crouched in a corner, her lip bloody and my uncle looming over us. My father was usually a gentle man, but seeing his family threatened, he became incensed. He drew his wand on my uncle, who scoffed at him, saying he didn’t have the guts and drew his own wand. But those were the last words my uncle ever uttered. Father killed him where he stood.” He looked back at Hermione. She was watching him closely, her face drawn up in consternation. Severus sighed and looked out the window again, her concern too much for him at the moment.

“Father did not last a year in Azkaban and mother died soon after. Of a broken heart, my great aunt Melisande liked to say. She moved into the manor with me.”

“How old were you when your mother died?” Hermione asked gently, but to Severus it sounded loud, since he had been talking so long.

“I was nine. Aunt Melisande stayed with me and when I was eleven, I went to Hogwarts. My aunt died in the middle of my third year.”

“So you had no one to come home to during the holidays?” He could hear the concern in her voice, but refused to look at her.

“I came home to see the ones I always had.”

“Wubby and Tinker,” she said plainly.

“Yes,” he said, turning a small smile to her. “They have been the one constant in my life. Tinker and I literally did grow up together. Wubby gave birth to him a month before mother had me. She has been more of a governess, than a house elf, over the years. I will have to visit with her before we return to the school.”

“When did you want to leave?”

“After dinner,” he said. “Wubby was impressed that I was finally bringing a girl home for her to meet.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Hermione said with a grin. Severus frowned. After Hermione’s push for S.P.E.W. a few years back , putting her and Wubby in the same room could be disastrous.

“I am not certain that is a good idea.”

“Oh no. You aren’t keeping me from talking to the one person who can tell me what you were like as a boy.”

“Alright, but do not mention anything about elf freedom or I will not be responsible for what she turns you into,” he said. Hermione laughed, only she didn’t seem to realize, he wasn’t joking.

After Tea was finished, they decided to retire up to the library. Severus knew Hermione was itching to have a better look around, so he let her. He was secretly pleased he had something that appealed to her this much. They had been sitting in companionable silence for about an hour, when Severus looked up to find Hermione watching him.

“I’d like to ask you something and I’d like an honest answer,” Hermione said, setting aside the book she had been reading. He was a little perturbed she thought he might lie to her.

“Go ahead.”

“In Dumbledore’s study, at the end of our interview, I asked you if you would petition for someone else, if I didn’t pick you. You blushed then, as you’re blushing now and I wondered why.”

Severus felt the sudden need to distance himself from her as he knew he was indeed blushing again. He didn’t want to answer, but it was a fair question and possibly better she knew and understood. He stood up and walked over to the shelf, placing his book back.

“I have done things, Hermione, awful things. It does not matter for whom I worked at the time. When the Dark Lord fell, I promised myself, I would never again be with an unwilling woman.” He turned around to see if she understood what he was saying. He expected her to looked shocked, but she did not. Perhaps she knew more about the war than he gave her credit for. “By petitioning for a wife, I would be forcing that woman to be with me against her will. I cannot bring myself to do that. And I will not do that to you either. I will never touch you without your permission. I am willing to marry you for protection only, if you wish and let you wait out the year, in hopes that the law will be repealed.”

Hermione stood and walked over to him, placing her book back on the shelf. “Everyone’s been telling me why I should marry you, even Harry, but why would you want to marry me?” Her soft brown eyes looked up at him, open and inquisitive.

“Other than having a lovely young wife, what else could I want?” Severus asked, looking down into her eyes.

“You should want many things, Severus. You’re a wonderful man with a lot to offer. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Perhaps you idealize me a bit,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“No, I think you’re far too quick to condemn yourself. You don’t know what a woman sees when she looks at you.”

“And what is that?” he asked curiously.

“A strong, handsome, powerful wizard with a good heart.”

“Now I know you are idealizing me,” he said, with a chuckle. She smiled.

“No. This has been the best date this weekend and do you know why?” she asked, raising her chin to him. She was quite delectable when being defiant. He shook his head. “Because you’ve given me a glimpse of who you are. Maybe you have some questions you’d like to ask me?”

Just then,Tinker popped in announcing that dinner was ready. Severus guided Hermione down to the large dinning room that was set up for the two of them. Wubby had outdone herself with a rather ostentatious dinner and a light, fruity champagne served with it.

As they ate, Severus asked Hermione about herself. Her parents and home life and such. He was amazed how much he already seemed to know. Why would he know so much about a Gryffindor? She talked about her friends, not that Severus wanted to hear about Potter and Weasley, but if he were to marry Hermione, those two would be a permanent fixture in his life, he was sure.

The meal passed quickly and enjoyably. As their dessert appeared, Hermione broached a whole new subject.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Remus?” Hermione asked, the concern evident in her eyes.

“Is there something wrong with him?” Severus had not really noticed anything different with the wolf.

“He’s not himself lately. He looks nearly as bad as he did after Sirius died. I’m worried and other students are beginning to noticing his condition.”

“Perhaps you should speak to him about it,” Severus advised, but Hermione sighed.

“You know Remy, he’ll say he’s fine, not to worry and make some stupid comment about the weather.” The both laughed, but her laugh held little mirth.

“I will look into the matter, if it will make you feel better.” Hermione gave him a genuine smile and placed her hand over his that was resting on the table.

“Thank you, Severus, I’d appreciate it,” she said. His first inclination was to draw back his hand. People rarely touched him and the contact felt overwhelmingly intimate. But he left it there, feeling her soft warmth sooth him. On impulse, he turned his hand, clasped hers and brought it to his lips. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, as he felt her tremble and it did not seem to be from fear. The moment passed, but a thought began to nag him in the back of his mind. Hermione was becoming important to him. Far too important, for comfort. She could never really want him . . . could she?

“Master Snape, sir,” Tinker interjected into Severus’ thoughts. He turned to his small friend.

“Yes, Tinker?”

“Wubby wants to know, if Master is seeing her or not. She is cranky sir, very cranky,” Tinker said, hunching his head into his shoulders. Dinner had been cleared, so it was time to visit with Wubby. The old elf had less patience, than Severus did and a far greater temper.

“I will be in presently,” Severus told the little creature, who looked much happier and left with a pop. He saw Hermione getting out of her chair; he cocked an eyebrow her direction.

“Should we go to the kitchen?” Hermione asked. Severus stood.

“I am not sure ‘we’ should go. It sounds as if Wubby is in a mood.”

“Well, you did tell her you were bringing me to meet her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but …”

“No buts. Lead the way,” she said. He had to chuckle to himself. He would remind her later that she asked for this.


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>> Wubby is the name of one of my twins disgustingly well loved baby blankets. I thought it was cute to use for this. (Which has thankfully now found it’s way into the trash.)

Cheers, Glinda

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