Lord Snape\'s Dilemma

Chapter 9 – Othello

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.

A/N: My sincere and heartfelt thanks to Ramos for her insightful and useful advice on writing.


“How lovely of you to remember him, Fleur” said Lady McGonagall with a smile. “However, I fear there was simply too much going on at the estate up in Scotland for us both to come down here. Sheep shearing time, you know. Perhaps later in the season Albus will be able to join us. And yes, you are quite right, he is more part of the family than servant. In fact, I wouldn’t know how I could get by without him—‘pon rep, he’s a magician I tell you.” Lady McGonagall took another sip of Ratafia and sat back in her chair.

“And do tell us more about zat mysterious Count, Lady McGonagall.” Fleur Lupin opened her china blue eyes wide and shook her blonde curls. “Did ‘e really predeect that you would find your lost nephew right ‘ere in London?”

Sir Remus Lupin was grateful to have such a beautiful and vivacious young wife. She was so useful with her excellent memory for gossip and impeccable instincts for asking the right questions. As usual, she expertly and cleverly guided her guests’ conversations, keeping things lively, but not controversial. He was free to go take care of some family business, while leaving his guests in her capable hands.

“Hermione, a moment of your time before we leave for the theatre.” Remus stood up. Taking his cousin’s arm in one hand and his cane in the other, he limped into the library across the way from the parlor. Hermione followed him with curiosity.

Once inside the room, Lupin pulled the door shut behind him. “My dear Hermione, I fear it has been too long since I’ve taken the time to speak to you with any intimacy; I have been remiss in my duties to you as your cousin.”

Hermione blushed. She had always looked up to Remus and since adolescence had had a crush on him. Sadly, nothing ever came of it, except that she’d been very jealous of his marriage to Fleur. Because of his wife, Hermione’s relationship to her cousin had cooled considerably over the past few years.

She helped him sit down and placed his cane where he could easily reach it. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Never fear Remus, I understand that with the war effort you have been very busy. I, on the other hand, now that we live so close have no excuse for not having found the time to better my acquaintance with your wife.” Hermione admitted to herself that she still h the the little French doll with a vengeance, but could never admit it to Remus. After all it was quite obvious that the two were in love.

Remus took her hand, kissed it and continued to hold it in his hand. “Hermione, when your father came to me about Lord Snape and his interest in you, I felt quite alarmed. We were at Harrow together and, well, Severus has never had an easy life, nor been an easy person. I worry that your marriage may not be a happy one.”

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes. Blinking rapidly she fought back the tearscertcertain whether it was her own unhappiness or her cousin’s sudden loving concern that brought them forth.

“Dear cousin that you should speak of Severus having a difficult life when you are the one who have had so much to overcome.” She squeezed his hand and realized that this was the first time ever that she was having an ‘adult’ conversation with the man for whom she held such great admiration.

Remus, unconsciously responding to Hermione’s words, rubbed his clubfoot on the carpet.

“Hermione, are you happy?” he asked in a low and tender voice.

Hermione was uncertain how to respond, but after a few moments decided on an edited version of the truth. “He’s always gone. I suppose he must be a very busy man; however, he doesn’t trust me to say where he goes and when he will return. As a result, my mind is never at ease.” Tears began to cascade down her face, but she bit her lip and refused to say anymore.

Remus was actually quite relieved. That the girl should actually miss Snape’s presence was reassuring. He had feared that she would tell him that he’d been abusing her and then he’d be forced to warn him off. “I’m sorry that this is so. But now that the war is finally come to an end, I’m sure you will see much more of your beloved.” He took a moment as if deciding whether to say more. “Your husband is a very good man, for all his flaws. Before your marriage I was in rather dire financial straitso beo be quite honest, because I had given more than I could really afford to the war chest I found myself on the rocks and was in danger of being ruined and sent to debtor’s prison. Severus bought up my IOUs and saved me. Now that the Luddite rebellion has been put down and my factory is making a profit again, I can repay him all the money he so freely lent to me.”

Hermione gasped. “But Sir Lucius said…”

“Malfoy! What has that rogue to do with you?” Remus’ heart sank to think that the vermin had dared to speak to his cousin.

“I… I…” Hermione turned pale. She should have looked at those debtors’ letters more carefully. She tried to remember if she had actually seen Lupin’s name on any of them. “Dearest cousin, do you remember that day, it was two days before my wedding, when Malfoy came to see you?”

Remus nodded. “We had had a wager at White’s the prior evening and he came to pay his debt to me. He was only here for a few minutes.”

“Yet in that time he heard our plans to go to the wedding rehearsal at the church that evening. While I was waiting in the vestry for my cue to enter, he came to me. He quickly showed me some documents, saying that they were your notes of debt, which had come due. He said that he’d ruin you if I didn’t do what he asked of me.” Hermione’s voice was trembling and rose barely above a whisper.

“You believed him? Oh Gods, Hermione, what did he want?” Remus could not accept that he might have served as the instrument for his cousin’s, what, disgrace?

“Actually, not much. He didn’t contact me for two weeks and then it was through an intermediary.” Hermione didn’t want to say it was Ginny Weasley, so far only Ginny, Sir Lucius, Harry and herself knew of Ginny’s ruin.

Remus took out a handkerchief and patted the sweat that had beaded on his forehead. “Thank God! You have no idea how dangerous a man Malfoy is.”

Hermione thought otherwise, but continued, “What he wanted was information on my husband’s comings and goings. I suspect he wished to garner such intelligence to damage Lord Snape in some way.” Hermione wanted to spill out her heart to him and tell her cousin that her husband was a spy. But Lupin was deeply involved in the Ministry’s war effort and she could never ask him to help out a traitor, even if it were her husband-- no, that would be putting her beloved cousin in too tight aitioition indeed.

Remus suspected that there was much Hermione hadn’t told him, but he respected her wish to keep her own council. “Well, you can send Malfoy on his way. It was your husband who had my notes. And I would trust Severus with my life.”

Hermione’s heart leapt at her cousin’s remark; unfortunately Remus was wrong that Severus could be trusted. How could anyone trust a man who would betray his own country?

Theas aas a gentle knock on ther. r. Fleur poked her head in. “Now you two, enough talk or we shall be late to see zee most wonderful Monsieur Kean perform.” Remus turned to Hermione.

“We have been too distant as of late. I expect now that you are an old married lady we shall see much more of each other and on a regular basis.” He kissed hend and and smiled, “What say you?”

Hermione smiled back, “Indeed, now that things are settling down, I ex you you and your lovely wife to be fixturesour our humble abode. Now, let’s to the theatre!”


&&&

“Ah, Kean. I was reading Coleridge’s comments on him just last week. He wrote that his acting was, and I quote, ‘like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightening.’ Though I am so sorry that you shall never see the Kembles perform, still the old must give way for the new.” Lady McGonagall patted Fleur’s hand. Hermione was yet again feeling the pangs of jealousy. It was very hard to be anywhere near the blonde Frenchw wit without resenting the way she always became the centre of attention, even with Lady McGonagall.

Hermione turned to Ginny, glad to have at least one genuine friend. “But I find Mr. Hazlitt’s remarks much more pithy, ‘In a word, Mr. Kean’s acting is like an anarchy of the passions, in which each upstart humour, or frenzy of the moment, is struggling to getlentlent possession of some bit or corner of his fiery soul and pygmy body – to jostle out and lord it over the rest of the rabble of short-lived and furious purposes.’”

Lady McGonagall looked pleased, “Well, hé, hé, Hermione. And I must admit that Mr. Hazlitt has seemed to capture the essence of Mr. Kean’s performance style. I was fortunate enough to see him in Bath last season. Bravo, girl.”

Ginny sat in quiet shock and stared about her with wide eyes. The Drury Lane Theatre! And here they were not just in seats, but a private box actually situated upon the stage itself! Everyone in the theatre could see them as well as the actors. And she had never seen so many people together in one place before. Over three thousand and fifty people according to Fleur! She looked across the stage to the box where the Union Jack was hung. Suddenly the orchestra struck up the British anthem and everyone stood and began to sing. Before her entered the Prince Regent of England, Prinny himself, along with a coterie of exquisitely dressed men and women. The anthem pd oud out and then the Regent and his company sat. The rest of the theatre sat down and the play began. Ginny felt electrified by the moment. Kean had only debuted upon the London stage two months ago and here he was the toast of the town! With bated breath, she watched the performance unfold.

While Ginny sat enthralled with the show, Hermione found herself in quite a different frame of mind. Within seconds of the play beginning, she felt a presence behind her. She was afraid to look, thinking it merely her imagination becoming overly stimulated by the night’s entertainment. But then she felt a lingering touch upon her upper arm and a voice like silk which she had dreamt about for months whispered in her ear, “Sorry, I’m late, my love.” The feel of his breath upon her ear and neck almost caused her to swoon on the spot. She took in the aroma of brandy and mint. Closing her eyes, she willled herself to breath and stay conscious. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to turn round and face him. She swallowed tightly and nodded.

Lord Snape continued troktroke her arm, quite aware that her body was blocking the sight of him teasing his wife from the audience both in front and to the side of them. Hermione felt that she might expire right there and then from the attentions of her grievously missed husband. Her entire mind focused on the few square inches of bare flesh that he was caressing. For one brief moment she had a flash of anxiety. What if he were seen? she wondered. Could there be a warrant out for his arrest? Coming here like this was foolhardy. She sighed and her handkerchief dropped from her hand. Snape immediately leaned down by her foot to pick it up, gently rubbing her ankle as he did so. Hermione gasped at the unexpected contact. She continued to look straight ahead of her as he again leaned forward to return the square of lace to her hands. As he leaned forward, she felt his lips glide ever go gently nst nst her neck. “You are so beautiful,” she heard him murmur and a thrill ran up and down her spine. Her whole body became aroused even more than before. Her eyes glazed a bit and her breath became shallow and rapid. Her entire being vibrated from his closeness to her.

Too soon the intermission was upon them.

“Ah, there you are Snape!” Hermione heard her cousin and silently cursed. It wasn’t very ladylike but she wasn’t feeling very ladylike at the moment. “So sorry to drag your husband away Hermione, but I have some urgent business to discuss with him.” Hermione turned in her seat and looked up at the two men. She found Snape’s eyes and they were fierce with passion, even though he’d schooled his face to seem rather bored. “Of course, Lupin. Hermione,” he nodded and gave a brief smile, “ladies we will return shortly.”

Hermione removed her fan from her reticule and began to cool herself briskly. Ginny came up to her and with eyes shining asked, “Oh, have you ever seen such a wonder? Kean is amazing; I nearly swooned. Why Hermione, you look a bit flushed.” Ginny rested her hand against her friend’s cheek. “Are you alright, dear?” Hermione heard her friend speak as if from far away. “Lady McGonagall, have you some salts on y I f I fear the show has overwhelmed our sweet Hermione!”

Fleur and Lady McGonagall both searched their bags. “Ah, ere eet eez.” Hermione began to cough as the ammonia and lilac scent assaulted her nose. Hermione felt annoyed at all the fuss, though truth be known she had been about to pass out with repressed desire.

“I’m fine, fine, thank you, Fleur,” said a chagrinned Hermione.

Fleur gave her a peck on the cheek, “Not at all ‘cousine’, I am most ‘appy to oblige.”

Lady McGonagall patted Hermione on the hand, “Perhaps I need to lend you a few knitting patterns for a special arrival?”

Hermione laughed. Of course, thought Hermione, if wer cor consummated the union. “Thank you Lady McGonagall, you are most generous.” She hated leading on her guest, but if she would choose to jump to conclusions, so be it.

Lord Snape impatiently listened to his cousin-in-law go on about recent events including Snape’s awards and the re-opening of Lupin’s factory. Yet, his thoughts were centered on his delectable wife. It was driving him to distraction to be so close to her and yet not be able to even kiss her.

“Yes, yes, Lupin,” Snape said with a sneer, “it’s all just wonderful. I’m very glad you will be able to pay me back. However, I think you have something else you really wish to say?” His black eyes took on a dangerous glitter.

“Well, I have been concerned with the amount of time you have left Hermione alone. She is quite young and new to London—“ Snape cut him off.

“Concerned were you?” Snape’s voice went soft and low. “I’ve been aware from the start that you have been against my marriage. Even to the point where you warned her father against me. However, her parents wanted you even less,” his eyes glanced down at Lupin’s deformity, “am I right? And you can’t stand to see her happy with another. Amazingly, you were more than willing to accept my money to stay out of gaol.”

Lupin flushed and said through gritted teeth, “It’s lucky that I believe in Christian forgiveness, or I’d…”

Snape stepped closer, his eyes half-lidded, “Call me out? You still can. If that’s what you’d like.”

“Damn you, Snape. You’veer ber bableable to take any sort of criticism. Even when we were in school together the least little slight, real or imagined and you were ready to take a person’s head off. How could Hermione ever be happy with you? You are as mean and ugly on the inside as you are in outwards appearance.” Lupin gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles whitening on the silver wolf’s head handle. “She’s been miserable. I only meant to ask yo tro try to stop with the heroics now that the war is over and spend some time with her. I don’t comprehend it, but for some reason, she missed you.”

A nasty, leering smile spread over Snape’s face. “She missed me? That’s good. That makes up for some of the pain I’ve gone through. And believe me, remembrance of our little conversation here will increase my pleasures later tonight tenfold.” Without further remark, he swept away from a very frustrated and irritated Lupin and returned to the performance, which had just recoced.ced. He noted that Hermione looked flushed and unwell, and he feared that perhaps there had been too much excitement for her during the first half of the play. For the rest of the show, he kept to himself, though he watched not a bit of the stage event, having eyes for his wife alone.

&&&

In a well-tempered marriage, when a couple have been parted for a while they usually take some time to catch up and let each other know what has gone on and how the other has managed during their separation. Pity that neither Snape nor Hermione possessed such skills.

Lord Snape put his brandy snifter down on the bureau. To say he was nervous was a horrible understatement. He and Hermione had said nary a word to one another on their return home. They didn’t need to, their body language, as subtle and repressed as they had kept it, spoke volumes. So why was he in his room and she in hers? Should he head over there? Did she need some time to…prepare? Snape thought about pouring another brandy, but felt disgusted with himself that he should resort to liquid courage and for what he wasn’t even sure.

There was a quick knock on the door. He opened it and found Hermione, blushing madly. She looked at him, taking in that his usual tight-fitting jacket, elaborate cravat and boots had been removed; he was considered undressed by the standard of their day. She hadn’t been sure what to expect. She was pleased to see some dark curls of hair peeping through the open neck of his shirt.

“May I come in, Lord Snape?” her voice squeaked a little.

Impulsively he swept her into his arms and kissed her forehead. She laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes.” Her body pressed against his and she breathed deeply, savoring his scent and feel.

He smiled and said huskily, “Yes, Hermione, you are most welcome here. And please, didn’t we agree on first names?” Bending down, he pressed his lips against hers. Slowly she opened her mouth to him and his took the advantage to slip the tip of his tongue in and to glide it against her teeth. He wondered how she could be so forward and then remembered Malfoy. Damned Malfoy! He broke away from her and crossed to the window, confused that he still couldn’t let his jealousy go and shocked that it was vying with his desire for her.

“Hene, ne, are you sure you are ready for this?” She looked surprised and then crossed the room to his side. Taking his hand she placed it against her bosom. He turned and looked into her eyes. He liked what he saw there. He felt reassured that it was finally time. He crossed the room to blow out candles.

“No, please leave at least one lit,” Hermione requested. Snape shook his head, startled at her wantonness.

“As you wish.” He began to undress, and when he realized she was watching him, he turned his body away. He was quite hard and there was a wet spot created by his manhood preparing itself. He had never been shy with women before, but then he’d never done more than unbuttoned his breeches to relieve his need with them. Now was different, he was about to make love to his wife for the first time. Of course, Hermione had seen him much less dressed when he was ill… Snape stopped that thought. He was well now and no invalid!

Hermione watched him, never removing her eyes from him while quickly unbuttoning and unfastening her dress and chemise. She reached under his pillow and pulled out her cotton and lace-trimmed nightgown. She was ready, more than ready, for him. She’d slept here in his room all the time he was gone, just in case he’d return during the night. She had already removed her corset, pantaloons, stockings and garters in her own room, simply putting her gown back on over her chemise so as to be able to undress quickly. She kicked her clothing under the bed as her husband methodically and meticulously unbuttoned his shirt and then folded it, doing the same with his breaches. Dressed only in his undergarments he replaced his undershirt with a nightshirt. He reached under the shirt and undid the buttons fastening his knickers and allowed them to drop to the floor. He came to their bed, hoping she would not notice where his swollen sex tented the fabric of his nightshirt and strained to be released. He was shocked to see how quickly she had changed into her nightdress.

They both pulled back the covers at the same time and got in from opposite sides of the bed. He brought the sheet all the way up to his chin as he lay on his back, trying to catch his breath. It was at that point Hermione realizedt het her husband was very shy. She probably would have noticed it sooner if her mind hadn’t been on other things. She longed to touch him, and examine his body in a way more intimate than when he had been in her charge. She edged herself closer to him and at that moment he moved over onto his side to face her.

In the light of one flickering candle, she saw the expression of both hunger and trepidation on her husband’s face. She put her arms around him, drawing him to her. She felt his trembling fingers lift the hem of her nightgown and bring it up over her hips. He then pulled up his own nightshirt and climbed on top of her. Hermione continued to watch his face as he awkwardly balanced on one arm in order to grab hold of himself to position his entry. The tension on his visage matched her own.

Then she closed her eyes. ‘I will be brave, I will be brave,’ she chanted to herself as she felt him spread her legs even wider apart. She remembered her mother telling her not to expect much out of it. It was for children, not pleasure, she had said. But Hermione wanted him so. How could it not be for pleasure when ver very thought of him made her twitch in her private place below?

Had Snape known she was a virgin, he might have been more sensitive, but really not by much. His nerves had so worked themselves into a frenzy that he could barely think, much less control himself. He plunged into her and distantly heard her scream and rip his shirt as she dug her nails into his back. He stopped. Lying inside of her was like heaven, a hot, soft, wet, satiny bliss that eroded all self-discipline. He dared not move or he knew he’d be spending immediately into her.

“Hermione, are you all right?” he rasped.

“Mmmmn.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Groaned an incredibly sore, but determined to stick it out, deflowered Hermione.

“Shall I continue?” Please let her say yes, prayed Snape, totally unsure of his own ability to stop now he had gone so far.

There was no sound for nearly a minute, except for their panting. And then from the lionhearted Hermione, “Please go slow. I’m fine, my love.” Her arms were trapped underneath him or she would have stroked his face, as it were she contented herself with kissing his chest.

He kissed her on her lips and then moved his kisses to her neck and shoulders. He took his time trying to make amends for whatever injury he’d caused her and then began to slowly rock back and forth inside of her.

“Hermione?” He said when he heard her moan. “Love?”

“Faster.” He looked at her for confirmation that she was actually wanting more. He smiled and began his slow thrusts yet again.

Hermione was starting to feel herself build toward climax. The soreness was still there but it was at the periphery of her awareness, pushed aside by the delicious sensations that were rapidly spreading throughout her body. She was relishing Snape’s small smooth movements inside her and was craving more. He moved faster at her request and then she heard him make a choked sound. He thrust himself hard and deep into her and held himself there. Shlt hlt him release and then he collapsed. Hermione lay underneath his dead weight wondering what was wrong and why he had stopped again.

“Severus?” she asked timidly. She was rewarded by what sou sus suspiciously like a snore. Feeling frustrated and suffocated by his large body, she struggled to move him to the side.

He reach out and stroked her breast. “Hmm. Wonderful.”

Hermione, wide-awake and extremely worked up, looked at her semi-conscious husband. “Severus, why did you stop?” she asked, not aware of the fact that the hot fluid seeping from between her legs signaled his completion. She prodded his shoulder and Snape became slightly more conscious.

“My love?” said Snape.

“Is that it?” asked Hermione.

“Is what it?” asked a perplexed and drowsy Snape.

“That’s all there is?” asked Hermione again. She was beginning to feel a bit cheated by the entire experience.

Snape rolled onto his back, noticing that he was a bit stickier than he expected. “Hermione, is something wrong?” He reached down to his flaccid member and felt an unfamiliar stickiness. Bringing his hand up he saw his fingers covered in blood. “Oh no, Hermione, I must have hurt you. My love, I’m so sorry.”

Hermione took the bloodied fingers in stride. “No, dear heart, that’s normal when you take a woman’s maidenhead.” She smiled reassuringly.

“But you’re not…” Too late, too late, screamed the voice of self-preservation in Snape’s head. The intelligent part of him, only recently having had blood restored from the loan to his nether regions, was searching for a loophole. Sex, blood, maidenhead. Malfoy, LIAR, Severus Snape-- the biggest fool of all time!

“What did you say, love?” asked Hermione. Snape recognized her tone of voice. It was his. His smooth, silky, danger voice. How did his wife come by possessing it?

“Nothing, Hermione. Let’s get some rest.” He patted her feebly on the arm.

“You didn’t think I was a virgin? And whatever… gave… you… that… idea? Husband dearest?” Hermione, a sore and sexually frustrated Hermione, was starting to feel the onset of one of her rages. She only got them once in a while, and only when her back was to the wall. Her vision started to cloud over in red, as she repeated, “How did you ever come to determine I was not a virgin?”

Snape started to feel his own irritation. Damn, he was the man of the house, he thought bloody mindedly, and he wasn’t about to be afraid of his own wife. “Malfoy said you weren’t,” he sneered while the sane, sober side of him headed to the hills away from imminent peril.

“So, dear Severus, you believed a lying, cheating rake’s damned hum regarding your wife’s honor?” Hermione leapt out of bed, only slightly faster than when she had leapt into it. She stepped away in a half-crouch as if stepping away from the bowels of Hell. “Severus, where was the handkerchief?”

“What?” Snape still asking himself how he would ever get out of this and watching his wife as a downed man might eye a panther.

“Iago presented Othello with Desdemona’s handkerchief as proof of her infidelity. Did you even have that?” Hermione backed into a thin-legged table, and she quite delibera thr threw it over onto the floor. “WELL?” she raised her voice.

“Hermione, you need to calm yourself.” Snape was beginning to panic. With a man he could at least threaten physical assault or a duel, but this was his wife!

“Calm myself!” Crash, suddenly a very old, much beloved chair went flying onto its side joining the table. “Give me a reason to.” Hermione thrust out her chin and crossed her arms. Snape felt his mind go blank.

“I’m waiting.” Thoughts of all the time she’d waited for him-- their wedding night, and the past weeks of worry and sullen sadness, came back to her venomously. “I was loyal to you, I would have betrayed England for you. But what should I expect from a filthy traitor?” Picking up a paperweight, Hermione hefted it in her hand.

“No, you are wrong, Hermione. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but I was in service to the crown. All very secret.” Snape hoped that perhaps if he appealed to her patriotism she might soften. “I was given three medals in appreciation of my services. And that paperweight you are holding, Hermione, please, that was a present from Prinny, the Prince Regent.” Snape barely recognized himself. Could this be him cowering from a woman?

“Oh, was it?” Hermione studied it and made as if to put it down, but then with a sneer of sheer evil, she suddenly hurled it. It whizzed over Snape’s head and flew out the window, making a very satisfying tinkling as it crashed through the glass of the windowpane. “So much for your bloody Prinny.” She wiped her hands down her nightgown.

“Language Hermione!” Snape was starting to lose his temper now, whereas before he’d been in horrified shock. “What should I expect from you? I leave here for only a few short weeks and red hens, red haired men and a redheaded courtesan of Malfoy’s invade my house. Redoing the kitchen? Giving servant’s honeymoons! Whatever were you thinking?” Snape stood up ignoring the blood on his hands, shirt and sheets.

“I was thinking that at least somebody should be enjoying themselves around here, LORD SNAPE! Especially since our marriage is OVER! You are an IM-BI-CILE and I refuse to bear your cretins!” Hermione turned and made it out the door before Snape could navigate the obstacle course to catch her. In fact, the minx was so fast that he heard the key turn in the lock to her room before he had thought to throw his weight against her door.

“LUD!” He slammed his hand against the door and then rapidly shook it as the pain spread up his arm.

He looked at the door longingly. He could stand there and apologize. He could tell her that he loved her and that he was an insane, jealous fool, nay that she was right and he was an imbecile to boot. He could beg her forgiveness and offer her anything she might want: jewel tou tour of the continent, at least the areas not destroyed by the war, fancy clothes. Much to his dismay, he felt tears running down his face. His mouth twitched. First Potter and now Hermione-- between the two of them he was unmanned!

He crossed to his own room. Right, he had a choice. He could stay and beg his wife’s forgiveness or he could find Malfoy at Whites and call the dastard out.

Snape brushed the tears from his face, feeling much better. The look on Malfoy’s face when he challenged him would be worth it. Snape was an expert swordsman. Of course, by the rules of dueling, it was the person being challenged who got to choose the weapon and Snape was dreadful with a pistol. Yet, even if he did wind up dead, it was better than living without Hermione. Snape got dressed, thinking he’d need Potter as his second. Then he realized that Potter was gone. Just as well, thought Snape, he knew exactly who to ask in Potter’s stead. There would be the Devil to pay when he got to Whites.

A/N A/N: Special thanks to Amethyst, Sillymom001, Sasha, Karena Elizabeth, MoD, Dame Niahm, Croft, Lulupapa, and Ezmerelda! As we head into the final lap, I hope we are all having a great time!

I usually post more often but this was a double chapter as far as length goes for me. And of course there was the research!

I did do maybe a bit more research on theatre than necessary . A. And it is much easier to find info on Regency woman’s undies than for men’s. I’m still not positive on how men kept their knickers up, drawstrings or buttons? Anyone out there know? Though thanks to a certain list I’m on, I now know what a Prince Albert piercing is.

Of interest is that Edmund Kean’s Othello actually premiered on May 6, 1814, not April as I have written for the purposes of the story. Here’s what my bud Hazlitt had to say about the performance:
Othello was acted at Drury-Lane last night, the part of Othello by Mr. Kean . . . His voice and person were not altogether in consonance with the character, nor was there throughout that noble tide of deep and sustained passion, impetuous but majestic, that “flows on to the Propontic, and knows no ebb,” which raises our admiration and pity of the lofty-minded Moor. There were, however, repeated bursts of feeling and energy which we have never seen surpassed. The whole of the latter part of the third act was a masterpiece of profound pathos and exquisite conception, and its effect on the house was electrical. The tone of voice in which he delivered the beautiful apostrophe, “Then, oh farewell I” struck on the heart and the imagination like the swelling notes of some divine music. The look, the action, the expression of voice, with which he accompanied the exclamation, “Not a jot, not a jot”; the reflection, “I felt not Cassio’s kisses on her lips”’ and his vow of revenge against Cassio, and abandonment of his love for Desdemona, laid open the very tumult and agony of the soul.
http://www.sparrowsp.addr.com/articles/william_hazlitt_on_edmund_kean.htm

The quotes from Coleridge and Hazlett used in the body of the story were both found in Simon Trussler’s The Cambridge Illustrated History of British Theatre.

Cant Glossary

‘Pon rep = polite exclamation
Ratafia = A sweet cordial flavored with fruit kernels or almonds.
Whites = gentlemen’s club
Prinny = knickname for the Prince Regent
Damned hum = lie
Lud = polite exclamation
Call out = challenge to a duel
Devil to pay = Trouble