Desperate Measures

Hermione Apparated into the middle of the after-lunch crowd at Ginny and Harry’s house. In addition to Molly and Arthur, Fred and George were there, along with their wives and children, and Percy’s wife was there with their children. Charlie hadn’t been exaggerating when he had described it as chaos, but she welcomed the manifold distractions afforded by a gathering of Weasleys. Had Harry and Ginny been alone, they almost certainly would have known that something was bothering her, and they wouldn’t have rested until they’d dragged it out of her. She simply wasn’t a good enough actress to feign normality only minutes after proposing marriage to Severus Snape.

Fortunately, with so many people in the house, no one noticed that Hermione was a little off. Children came and went, adults chatted and passed the new baby around, and Molly seemed to be everywhere at once – fetching tea for Ginny, scolding errant grandchildren, and dispatching Arthur on one errand after another until he complained of Apparition sickness and sneaked out to play Quidditch with the twins and several of the older grandchildren. Harry mostly stayed one step behind Anna, who was not yet two and was already manifesting her father’s proclivity for getting into trouble. Against this backdrop, Hermione’s unsettled state went unnoticed, and she was grateful.

She knew that her friends would not approve of what she had just done. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Charlie…none of them would endorse her proposing to enter into such an unconventional union. Even Minerva, who in a way had been the one to encourage her down this path, would be unlikely to support such a drastic solution to their problem. As she sat in the pleasant mayhem of the Potter house, it occurred to Hermione for the first time that while Harry had marriedinto friends and family, she might well be marrying out of them. If she actually married Severus Snape, would she be welcomed back into their midst?

Things began to calm down after she’d been there for about an hour, and she felt her own equilibrium returning at about the same time. The younger children were taken home for naps, Arthur decided that he needed one too, and Molly took Anna off of Harry’s hands and went to put her down, leaving Harry, Ginny, Hermione and baby Ella alone in the sunny lounge. It was Hermione’s first opportunity to hold the new baby, and she admired her as she was expected to but found that it didn’t compare to holding Curt. Little Ella Potter just didn’t feel right to her the way Curt did, and she couldn’t explain it any better than that. Ginny seemed to understand and took the baby from Hermione’s arms the minute she began to fuss.

“It’s not like holding your own, is it?” Ginny asked, settling her tiny daughter at her breast.

“Not quite,” Hermione agreed. “But she’s very sweet.”

“Why didn’t you bring him today? We’re all dying to see him.”

“I, er, just wasn’t sure about Apparating with him so soon. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Oh, perfectly,” Ginny said, sounding surprised. “What a first-timer you are! He’ll do fine, and it’s not like you’re any threat to get splinched.”

“You’re right. I’m being silly I suppose. I’ll bring him next time. I promise.”

“Say, Hermione,” Harry began, giving Ginny a questioning look.

“Yes?”

“I don’t mean to bring up something that might be upsetting…”

“But…?”

“Well, Charlie let something slip the other day about the baby…about maybe you wouldn’t be keeping him? Is that true?”

“I…think I’ll be able to keep him,” Hermione answered cautiously. “I’m working on it.”

“Well, what’s the story, anyway? Charlie obviously knew more than he would let on. Said we’d have to ask you if we wanted to know.”

“It’s all rather complicated just now,” Hermione said. “I suppose Charlie didn’t tell you who Curt’s father is?”

“You mean you know?” Ginny asked.

“Er, yes, actually. I’ve known for a while now. Curt’s father is Severus Snape.”

“Snape!” Harry and Ginny exclaimed at the same time, and then Harry added, “You’re having us on!”

“I don’t think she’s joking, Harry,” Ginny said seriously, looking at Hermione’s face. “Oh, Hermione! Professor Snape?”

“It’s a long story,” Hermione said wearily. “But yes. Curt is Severus’s son.”

“Severus,” Giny repeated, sounding a little dazed.

“That means someone actually…with Snape.” Harry said, wrinkling his nose rather comically. “D’you know how wrong that is? Ron’ll never believe it.”

“Would you shut up?” Ginny snapped. “You act like you’re still twelve years old.”

“Some things never change, Gin,” Harry said fervently. “Snape’s one of ‘em.”

Well, there went any hope of them understanding and supporting her decision, Hermione thought sadly. Of course, it didn’t help that she basically agreed with him. “Actually, I think he has changed quite a bit since Curt was born,” she said, “but not in the way you mean.” She went on to tell them the whole story, including what Sirius had told them about Diana’s reaction to Harry when he was a baby. Ginny teared up then, and her face got red and splotchy.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, reaching for a nearby stack of nappies and mopping her face with the topmost one. “It’s these damned hormones. Not that that isn’t the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Can you even imagine how that poor girl felt…casting a spell like that on her own baby…” She broke down again then, and Harry handed her a fresh nappy.

“Here, let me burp the baby,” he said, reaching for little Ella. “You’re a mess.”

“Well, just you try giving birth next time, Harry James Potter, and we’ll see how you like all these crazy hormones!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “She gets like this,” he said to Hermione, earning another dark look from his wife. He put the baby over his shoulder and began patting her back. “So you said the Fletchers wanted to raise the baby. Is that what Charlie meant when he said you might not get to keep him?”

She wasn’t quite ready to tell her friends everything, but she settled for a partial truth. “Severus assured me today that he has no intention of letting the Fletchers raise Curt. He and I are trying to work something out.”

“Most amazing thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry said. “I really hope it all works out.”

Hermione wished he sounded a little less doubtful, but she managed to smile and thank him anyway.

“It will,” Ginny said firmly, glaring at Harry and then reaching for Hermione’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m glad you told us all of this. You’ve probably been worried sick all these weeks, and we’ve been off in our own little world, getting ready for the baby and ignoring you completely.”

Hermione laughed. “I’m the one who left for Hogwarts, remember? I don’t expect you to obsess over every detail of my life, especially when you have so much else going on.”

“Well, from here on out, you can consider me obsessed. I want regular owls telling me how you’re getting on – with Curt, with Snape, with the Fletchers – whatever. Promise?”

“I promise,” Hermione said, knowing she was telling a lie. If Snape actually accepted her proposal, there would be no way she could tell Ginny – or anyone else – until after they were married and there was no talking her out of it. She made an effort to change the subject then, and the friends talked of other things until it was time for her to leave.

§ § § §
 

 It didn’t seem possible, but as she headed down to the dungeons to collect Curt, she thought she might be even more nervous than she had been when she was on her way to propose. Her future happiness was in Severus Snape’s hands, and that thought was anything but comforting. She knew that he had no more interest in being married to her than she had in being married to him, and he had absolutely no reason to do her any favours. She was braced for a ’no’ but still desperately hoping for a ’yes.’ When she thought about what, exactly, she was hoping for, it felt like someone had up-ended the universe.

Snape answered the door himself this time. Curt was awake, and he beamed and waved his arms enthusiastically when he saw her. It was all the reassurance she needed, and she reached for him and clung to him like a life preserver as she tried to act somewhat natural in Snape’s presence. She didn’t want to ask him if he’d made his decision, but she wasn’t sure he would voluntarily broach the subject again. Watching him deal with the facts of Curt’s paternity had taught her that Snape didn’t enjoy being rushed into major life changes, so she was a little surprised when he gestured her toward a chair.

“I have given some thought to your…question,” Snape said, once he was seated across from her.

“Yes?”

“I would like to propose a compromise of sorts.”

“A compromise,” she repeated. “Like just living together? We couldn’t possibly do that here at Hogwarts. The Board of Governors…”

Snape held up a hand. “The Board will have no grounds for complaint. If you agree to my suggestion, we will be married in Hogsmeade by the registrar there. It will be a full wizarding ceremony. You do understand what that means, don’t you?”

“Well…yes. Of course. But I’d thought…” Hermione looked at Snape in confusion and no little embarrassment as she considered the implication of his words. A “full” wizarding marriage was absolutely binding. A witch and a wizard married in a full wizarding ceremony might separate, but until one of them died, they could never legally re-marry. Like so many other things in the magical world, the marriage practices dated back to medieval times, when the woman had become the property of the man upon marrying. Although that was no longer the case, the ceremony still included the complex Affimaritus charm, which provided the couple with an empathetic link to one another, a mysterious emotional bond that could be broken only by death.

Hermione was familiar with the charm, of course, though only those who had actually experienced it seemed fully able to understand it. It seemed to her to be rather like the link that existed between some twins. It was nothing as strong as telepathy, but instead seemed to be a general feeling about the other person’s emotional state, particularly in times of intense trouble or distress. She would swear that her own Muggle parents had something of the same bond, even without magic; after living and working together for so many years, each was able to tell at a glance how the other was feeling, and they seemed to have a natural instinct about how to properly respond.

She couldn’t think of a single young witch or and wizard of her generation who had elected to be married in a full wizarding ceremony. In fact, not many of the witches and wizards of Snape’s generation had. The practice had fallen out of favour fifty or more years before and now was seen as terribly old-fashioned – even silly. Hermione doubted the registrar in Hogsmeade had performed an Affimaritus charm in the last decade. And Snape wanted to be married that way? To her?

“You’re concerned about the charm,” he said, taking obvious pleasure in her distress.

“I suppose I just don’t see the point of it,” she answered, giving him a quizzical look. And then suddenly she did understand, and the look turned to one of satisfaction. “Oh!” she exclaimed.

The Affimaritus charm was the integral part of the wizarding ceremony. It was cast by the officiating wizard, but it wasn’t activated until the marriage was consummated. If the marriage was never consummated, then technically it never existed and both parties could walk away. There would certainly be no reason why the Board of Governors should inquire into such personal matters, however; if the registrar’s office had a record of the ceremony, the “Snapes” would be deemed husband and wife until one or the other of them stepped forward and repudiated the marriage.

He nodded with something like approval. “I am not at all sure that we will be able to tolerate one another, even if we are determined to put Curt’s needs before our own,” he said frankly. “But I am willing to try it, for his sake. What I propose is a trial marriage. We will be married in Hogsmeade as soon as I can arrange it. Next weekend, perhaps, or the week after. I suggest that we commit to one another that we will give it one year and no less. At the end of that year, we will decide together if we wish to continue.”

“But-” Hermione began.

“If you agree to this,” Snape interrupted firmly, giving her an annoyed look, “I will allow you to legally adopt my son. As such, you will have as much right as I in determining where he lives in the very likely event that we decide not to remain married. It is less than ideal, I’ll grant you, but he would not be the first child whose parents didn’t actually live together.”

“If you feel that way, then why not just let me adopt him and keep things as they are now?” Hermione asked softly.

Snape was silent for so long that she thought he might not answer, and then finally he spoke. “If we live together – the three of us – for the next year, then at the end of that year, the child will know me, and I him. I do not think that would be the case if we continued with our current arrangement. I would mean no more to him than Albus or Poppy or any of the others who pass him around the High Table. That is not…satisfactory to me. And of course, there’s always the slight chance that we’ll actually be able to tolerate one another and will decide to continue. This plan leaves us the flexibility to do that, if we so choose, but at the same time gives us an easy way out. No lawyers, no divorce, no Muggle courts. We’ll simply make arrangements for Curt’s custody and walk away.”

Hermione nodded. It was as much as she’d dared hope for. “Very well, then. I agree.” Their eyes met, and for a few seconds she could actually read in his some of the trepidation she was feeling. It felt like stepping off of a cliff with absolutely no idea of what was below or how long the fall might be, and sheer terror mingled with a ridiculously misplaced sense of exhilaration at the thought of doing something so reckless. The connection between them was brief, and when it passed they were left with simple awkwardness and a mutual desire to escape the presence of the other as soon as possible.

She stood first and reached for the changing bag. “So, did everything go all right today?” she asked, attempting to sound normal.

“I am wearing the same clothes I was when you left,” he pointed out, also rising. “That in itself is an improvement over last week.”

She chuckled weakly. “I suppose it is.” She settled the bag over one shoulder and Curt over the other. “All right then. You’ll…let me know…”

“Yes,” he said simply, opening the door for her.

“Thank you, Severus.” She touched his arm and then drew her hand away quickly when she felt him tense beneath her fingers. He acknowledged her thanks with the slightest inclination of his head, and she could only hope that he understood what, exactly, she was thanking him for. It was clear, however, that he didn’t wish for her to prolong her visit, so she stepped across the threshold and let him close the heavy door behind her. For a moment, she sagged against the stone wall of the corridor and buried her face in Curt’s neck, pressing her lips against his tender flesh and inhaling his sweet innocence.

Worth it, she thought. Absolutely worth it.

§ § § §
 

It was on the following Tuesday that Snape stopped her on her way back to her rooms after dinner in the Great Hall.

“Professor Granger,” he said formally, stopping her at the foot of the stairs. “If I might have a word?”

“Certainly, Professor Snape.” She tried to hide her nervousness as she faced him, but she felt her stomach lurch and feared she might lose her supper.

“I was wondering if you could arrange to go with me to Hogsmeade on Saturday,” he said, watching her carefully. “I believe we can take care of our business then.”

She nodded and swallowed hard before finding her voice. “That will be fine,” she said. “What time?”

“Ten o’clock. I’ll meet you here.”

She nodded. “All right”

“Goodnight Professor Granger.”

“Goodnight Professor Snape.”

§ § § §
 

Time was unusually capricious that week, first dragging mercilessly and then speeding up and sending her into a panic. By Friday she felt like some higher force was doing a doomsday countdown. Twenty-four hours until I marry Snape became sixteen hours until I marry Snape until finally she went to bed at twelve hours until I marry Snape. She didn’t fall asleep immediately but instead looked around her rooms, wondering if she would be sleeping there the next night. She’d had nothing but the most transient contact with Snape during the week. They had made no plans, discussed nothing about their shared future. All she knew was that she was marrying him.

She had not been able to bring herself to share this information with anyone else. Minerva didn’t know, and she was fairly certain Snape hadn’t told Dumbledore. The Headmaster could have had a career on the stage had he been so inclined, but she didn’t think he’d been acting when he asked her casually at dinner whether she had any plans that weekend. She’d nearly choked on her lie.

She had realized at some point during the week that her silence was due to something more than just reluctance to face her friends’ very predictable opposition. Admitting that she had agreed to marry Snape was admitting failure in one very large part of her life. She, who was accustomed to being a success at virtually everything she tried, had failed so completely in her personal life that she was marrying a man she didn’t even like and whom she had only begun to be able to tolerate. She was purchasing a child at the cost of her own self-respect, and while she was certain that the child was worth it, she wondered what fundamental changes might be wrought in her by the transaction. She dreaded meeting the eyes of her friends when they learned the extent to which she had been willing to go; she was sure that they would recognize that marrying Severus Snape was an option for her because no one else would have wanted her anyway.

That wasn’t quite true, of course. There had been men in the past - men she had cared about and had ultimately sent away when she had realized that she didn’t feel for them what she wanted to feel for the man she married. She’d had impossible standards, Ginny said, which no man could possibly live up to. But Hermione didn’t think that was quite fair. She’d been chasing a feeling, not a particular set of characteristics. She’d been looking for a man who, after 40 years of marriage, she might still look at with the same look her Mum got when she looked at her Dad. She’d never met that man, and eventually she’d quit looking. She didn’t put that in so many words, but the move to Hogwarts was the signal that she had given up and was prepared to make the focus of her life something other than marriage and family. She took a rather lofty view of it, truth be told. Those things were fine for her friends, but she would show them that a meaningful existence could be found outside their boundaries as well.

Somehow, she’d tripped on her own master plan, with the completely unbelievable result that tomorrow she would return to Hogwarts as the wife of Severus Snape. Gone were all the ideals of marriage, all the dreams of a lover who inspired her with passion and humour and brilliance. In place of the Prince Charming who had continued to inhabit the most secret places in her mind was one of the least charming men she’d ever met. And he was to be, in the eyes of the world, her husband.

Her husband. That meant something enormous, she was sure, but her imagination took her no further than those two words. It stood to reason that there would be subsequent changes, but she couldn’t for the life of her picture them. It was one thing to tell Snape that they should live together for Curt’s sake and quite another to imagine greeting Snape in her dressing gown mornings, seeing their toothbrushes on the same counter, and mingling their books on a single shelf. She’d simply never met a man less inviting of intimacy.

Later she would figure that it was probably ten hours until I marry Snape when she finally fell asleep.

§ § § §
 

The next morning she wasted several minutes pondering what she should wear before reminding herself rather forcefully that Snape would neither notice nor care. She indulged in a bit of self-pity as she donned her everyday robes and contrasted the act with what she’d always imagined it would be like dressing for her wedding. Her parents didn’t even know, she realized. None of her friends would be there, nor would they be pleased when they heard about it. Not only was the groom not Prince Charming, but the wedding itself would be about as personal as a transaction at Gringotts.

The pity party ended when she walked into her sitting room and saw Winky playing with Curt. She swept him up into her arms and kissed him, revelling in his burble of laughter. “Mummy has to go away for a bit,” she told him, “but I’ll be back soon. Be a good boy for Winky.”

“Oh he is, Miss Hermione. Master Curt is always a good boy for Winky.”

“I know he is,” she said. “You’re wonderful with him. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Winky.”

“Oh, Miss Hermione would do fine without Winky. Professor Snape, though, he is needing Winky when he is looking after Master Curt.”

“Oh really?” she asked. “I didn’t realize he’d called you.”

“Professor Snape is not liking changing nappies,” the Elf told her conspiratorially.

“No, he admitted as much,” Hermione said, chuckling. “Well, thank you for helping him. Now, I must go or I’ll be late. I should be back in a couple of hours.” She kissed Curt again and then handed him back to Winky, waving at both of them as she walked out the door.

Snape was pacing at the foot of the stairs, his robes fluttering around him, but he stopped abruptly as she appeared on the landing above him.

Gotcha, she thought. So I’m not the only one here who’s nervous.

“Are you ready?” was all he said as she gained the ground floor.

“Ready,” she confirmed.

They took the carriage to Hogsmeade, and the ride was mostly silent, with both of them staring out the windows, absorbed in the scenery as if they’d never seen it before.

Hermione ventured a single question. “Did you say anything to Albus?”

“No. I thought perhaps it would be better to wait until it was a fait accompli.”

“I agree.”

Having reached their second mutual agreement, they retreated back into silence, not speaking again until they arrived at the Registrar’s office in Hogsmeade.

“You know what to expect, I assume?” he asked, as they approached the building’s entrance.

“Of course.”

Because it was taking place at the registrar’s office, her own wedding would be less elaborate than most of the Muggle weddings she’d attended. However, both Muggle and Wizarding rituals included an exchange of spoken pledges or vows, and both included an exchange of rings. She had very nearly forgotten about the ring and had been forced to make a frantic Thursday-night dash to Diagon Alley, where she had purchased the first one she’d found that seemed passably suitable. She didn’t know enough about Snape to know if he had a particular taste in jewellery; at a guess, she’d have said that he preferred to wear no jewellery at all.

The last time she’d been at this particular building had been to take her Apparition exam. She’d gone with Harry and Ron, coaching them and giving them tips right up until their names were called and it was time for them to take their tests. She remembered feeling slightly nervous as she waited on the rather uncomfortable marble benches in the large antechamber. It was nothing to the way she felt now, waiting in that same room to marry Severus Snape.

The acoustics of the domed ceiling were such that the slightest whisper was amplified and seemed capable of travelling to London and back. Hermione sat in careful silence, as if afraid of awakening some sleeping beast, until the sound of approaching footsteps echoed like thunder and set her heart pounding.

“Miss Granger? Mr Snape?” A middle-aged witch stood before them holding a roll of parchment, a quill stuck haphazardly in her untidy hair. “He’s ready for you now.”

One minute until I marry Snape…

She didn’t realize that she hadn’t actually moved until she felt his hand at her elbow, his grip nearly painful. They rose then and crossed over to the witch, who gave them a look of frank curiosity. Hermione was aware that they were a frightfully odd-looking couple, even to the casual observer. To those who knew them, it would be just short of unbelievable.

The registrar’s office was smaller and somewhat less intimidating than the antechamber had been, and she would have felt more relaxed had she not been on the verge of marrying Severus Snape. As it was, she was pleased not to be openly hyperventilating. The registrar was behind his desk, a thin, dry, stick of a man with greasy wisps of hair combed over an obvious bald spot. He reached for his wizard’s hat and a roll of parchment at the same time and then awkwardly clamped the one on his head while trying to unroll the other. The hat slid to one side just as the parchment rolled back up, and Hermione stifled a nervous giggle. Snape looked at her with obvious disapproval, and she felt the childish urge to kick him.

Unlike the witch who had escorted them into the office and was apparently going to remain as a witness, the registrar evinced absolutely no interest in the couple before them. Once he’d settled the hat and mastered the roll of parchment, he waved his arm vaguely at the spot in front of him and said, “If you’re ready, then, we’ll get started.”

They took their places, and the registrar launched into the ceremony without preamble. Hermione made it through the pledges somewhat shakily but without once stumbling, and Snape recited his portion in the same dry monotone he would use if he were reading from a potions text. She noticed, however, that his hand trembled slightly as she slipped the simple band over his finger. When he had reciprocated, they were instructed to join hands and face one another, and the registrar drew an invisible circle around them with his wand and then commanded it into flames. Hermione jumped slightly as the fire leapt around them, and she felt Snape’s hands tighten reflexively on hers. It was reassuring somehow, though she wasn’t at all sure he meant it to be, and she held on to him as the registrar intoned the complicated incantation that was the first portion of the Affimaritus charm.

The charm wouldn’t be activated until the marriage was consummated, which in her case meant it wouldn’t be activated at all, so there was no real reason why that portion of the ritual frightened her more than the others with its significance. The flames gave a touch of drama to the proceedings that she could have lived without, frankly, and she was relieved when the incantation was complete and they disappeared as quickly as they had come. She quickly released Snape’s hands and stepped away. One corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and she had the feeling he knew exactly how disturbing she had found the idea of them being irrevocably bound.

And with that she became, against all probability, Mrs Severus Snape – not that she actually intended to use that particular title. She stood to one side while Snape paid the registrar and signed some forms. He beckoned to her then and held out a piece of parchment and a quill. “The certificate of marriage,” he said quietly, pointing to the line at the bottom with her name already printed neatly below it: Hermione Granger Snape. Three words that nature never intended should come into alignment, she was sure, but she forced herself to write them and then watched as her signature faded away, seemingly absorbed into the page. It would not reappear, she knew, unless the final component of the Affimaritus charm was completed.

“I had this drawn up yesterday,” he said, handing her another sheet of parchment. “You’ll need to sign it at the bottom.”

For a moment, the words swam on the page – the words which would legally make her the mother of Marcus Curtius Snape. As she gathered control of herself and forced back the tears, she made up her mind that however difficult marriage to Severus Snape might be, she would do her best to be a decent wife to him, for as long as she remained in that role. “Thank you, Severus,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome. It is my part of this devil’s bargain you’ve made. Now sign it, if you please, and let’s get out of here.”

“Gladly.” She signed her name again, and this time the signature remained on the page with pleasing permanence.

A moment later and they were standing in the sunlight on an ordinary Saturday in Hogsmeade. “I would suggest that we stop for lunch before returning to Hogwarts,” he said. “We have some things to discuss.”

“All right.” He seemed to be waiting for something, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Is The Sorcerer all right with you?”

“Oh – certainly. I mean, I don’t really care where we go.”

He nodded and led the way to the restaurant, where they were quickly seated in a quiet corner. They studied their menus in silence, and it wasn’t until they had given their orders to the waitress that Severus began to speak.

“I’ve made an appointment for us to see Albus at one o’clock today,” he said. “Marriages are a matter of public record, and I don’t like our chances of keeping this from him any more than a day or so.”

“I agree. I’d never intended that it should be a secret.”

“Nor I,” he said, “but I would prefer that the exact details be kept from as many people as possible. It is in all of our interests for this to appear a ‘real’ marriage. No one need know we went with a wizarding ceremony.”

“All right,” Hermione agreed. She’d actually been planning to use that information as reassurance for her friends, but she was still feeling rather generous towards Severus because of the adoption, so she made up her mind to keep her word.

“With only a week left before finals,” he went on, “perhaps we should wait until next term to make it open knowledge amongst the students. Once they’ve gone home for the summer, we can make the necessary changes to our living arrangements.”

She nodded, appreciating his reasoning. Exams were hectic enough for everyone without starting a firestorm of gossip in the midst of them or putting themselves through a change of venue. “I agree,” she said again. “But as to that last…what exactly are our living arrangements going to be? We haven’t actually discussed it.”

“We haven’t discussed much of anything,” he returned, “but that was the next thing I was going to ask you about. Unfortunately, your Common Room is in a tower and mine is in a dungeon. One of us is likely to be inconvenienced regardless of what we decide.”

“I’ll change then,” she volunteered. “It makes the most sense, actually, as I’m planning to tell Albus that I can’t accept the Head of House position.”

“Why not?” Snape looked surprised, and perhaps something more than that – perhaps a little disapproving.

“I’ve barely had time to think about it since Curt came along. Minerva has taken over everything again, so I’m not at all prepared. And besides, Curt will only be a baby for a short time. I don’t want to spend that time disciplining Gryffindors. You said yourself that your duties as a Head of House take precedence over almost everything. I want Curt to be my first priority.”

“You’re not planning to quit teaching are you?”

She laughed at the expression on his face. “Are you afraid you’ll be stuck supporting me?”

“No,” he said, scowling at her. “I happen to think you’re a decent teacher. It would be unfortunate for the students if you were to give it up.”

“Gracious! Jewellery and a compliment all in the same day,” she teased. “What is the world coming to?”

He examined the ring on his finger. “Well, anyone who’s ever heard me speak on the subject of marriage will be expecting hell to freeze any minute now.”

“It doesn’t quite seem real yet, does it?”

“Hardly. Another reason to wait until the term is over to make any major changes. I’ve never wanted a wife, Hermione, and I can’t promise that I’ll be at all agreeable about sharing my personal space with you – or with Curt either, for that matter.”

“I hadn’t actually expected you to,” she said dryly. “For you to be agreeable would probably be more of a shock than I could take. We’ll just…have to find our way somehow.”

“I wish I were as optimistic as you.”

“Why did you do it, then? Why did you agree to this if you have so little hope of it working out?”

He shrugged slightly. “I want to be with my son, but I’m not such a fool as to think that I’ll be able to raise him alone. I have no idea what to do with a baby - or a child either. I have enough doubts about my ability to be a good father without attempting to take on the role of mother as well. Frankly, I married you because you’re the only one foolish enough to have applied for the position.”

Though it was basically the answer she had expected him to give, it hurt for some reason that she couldn’t quite identify. She merely nodded her acceptance of his answer and allowed the silence between them to lengthen as they waited for their food. It was a relief when it came and they could focus on their meal.

§ § § §
 

Snape was frankly gratified by the look on the Headmaster’s face. He had come to this man with tales of horror and betrayal and confessions of his most egregious sins, but he’d never managed to generate any response more dramatic than a raised eyebrow and an, “Is that so, Severus?” The man’s unflappability had become a real source of annoyance over the years.

So he timed his announcement carefully, waiting until Albus had taken his first sip of hot tea before he spoke their news into the silence. “Professor Granger and I were married this morning.”

And there it was: the response he’d been trying to evoke for the better part of two decades. The choke, the splutter, the frantic grasping for a handkerchief to wipe the amber drops of tea from the long, crooked nose. Yes, it was deliciously gratifying and very nearly worth the aggravation that was certain to come of having taken a wife.

“Were it anyone but you, Severus, I would assume that this was an elaborate joke,” the Headmaster said, when he could again speak. “And yet I’ve known you for nearly forty years, and I can’t remember you playing a single joke in all that time. It seems unlikely that you would start now, and about something as serious as this.”

“Completely unlikely,” Severus agreed dryly. “However, if you’re having difficulty believing us, you are welcome to check with the registrar’s office in Hogsmeade.”

“No, that will not be necessary.” The Headmaster regarded them with the utmost gravity. “What have you done, children? Have you thought this through at all?”

“We have, Albus,” Hermione said. “And knowing both of us as you do, I’m surprised that you would ask such a thing. We might not have married for precisely the usual reasons, but you said yourself that you wanted us to do what was best for Curt.”

“I would never have suggested anything so drastic as this,” Albus said, shaking his head slowly. “I fear you shall learn that you cannot purchase a child’s happiness at the expense of your own.”

“I’ll be happy as long as I’m with Curt,” she assured him.

Albus looked at her and sighed. “Well, I shan’t argue with you, particularly since what’s done is done, and you seem determined to pursue this course with or without my blessing. What, then, can I do to accommodate you in this new venture?”

Severus and Hermione glanced at one another for the first time since they had entered the Headmaster’s office. “We thought it best to wait until the end of term to make any…changes,”

Severus said, once it became obvious that Hermione wasn’t going to speak. “We’d ask that you delay any announcement to the students until next autumn. Other than that, I don’t suppose there’s anything in particular that we require.”

“You plan to share quarters, I assume?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, flushing slightly. “Curt and I are going to move into Severus’s rooms. I…I hate to say this, Albus, but I don’t think I can take over as Head of Gryffindor now.”

The Headmaster pursed his lips thoughtfully and then nodded. “I’m sorry to hear it, of course. I would love to see you in charge of your old House, but the timing is clearly not right for you just now. I will attempt to fill the Transfiguration position with a former Gryffindor who will be willing to serve as Head of House.” He gave her a small smile. “Let that be the least of your concerns, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Albus.”

“Now,” he said briskly, “as to you sharing Severus’s rooms. I must tell you that I have concerns about the three of you coexisting peacefully in such a small space, and you shouldn’t be expected to. You are each an instructor at this school and as such are entitled to a set of rooms. The walls of this castle are flexible, as you know. I will see what I can do about creating a suitable space for you to share.”

“Very well,” Severus said, perhaps less graciously than he might have. The addition to his life of a wife and child was traumatic enough. A change of venue after so many years in the same rooms would be an additional adjustment, and he felt more resentment than gratitude at the prospect.

Hermione murmured her thanks, and Albus went on. “I would also like to permanently reassign Winky to you, assuming you’ve been pleased with her assistance thus far. By next term, Curt will be too old to attend classes with you, Hermione. If you’re to maintain a full teaching schedule, you will need reliable help.”

“Oh, Albus! That’s too much,” she protested. “It wouldn’t be fair to the other staff members.”

“The other staff members have their needs attended to by the school house-elves, but Curt will be better served by having a consistent caretaker. I doubt very much that anyone will complain.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Winky is wonderful with Curt. It will be much easier to leave him knowing that he’s with her.”

“Is there anything else?” Albus asked, spreading his hands.

“Not that I can think of,” Severus answered. “Hermione?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We’ll be fine, Albus.”

“I hope so, my dear. I truly do.”

It was hardly an enthusiastic blessing, but it seemed all the ancient Headmaster was capable of just then. They took their leave, Albus Dumbledore’s troubled gaze following them out of the room.

_______________________________________________

Author’s Note:

 The idea of a “trial” marriage mostly came from the information on marriage in Medieval Scotland contained in the article by Sharon L. Krossa which can be found here. I twisted it a little to suit my purposes and (of course) made up the charm, but I wanted to give credit for inspiration where it’s due.