Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90308 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"
Chapter Twelve
"The Loud Family"
Disclaimer: The characters and places depicted belong to Rowling, I'm just using them to satisfy some sick little story in my mind. No money is being made, unless you count reviews to feed my ego as payment.
============
Hermione and Ginny had wandered off to their usual corner of the garden, away from Molly and Dobby.
Harry and Ginny had lent the house-elf to other members of the Weasley family, as there was very little for him to do in the regard of cleaning and cooking for the younger couple. Over the past few months, Dobby had been spending most of his time at Fred and Grace's or George and Florence's home, helping them with housework and cooking while the witches took care of their new infants.
Dobby was helping Molly in the kitchen today, and between the house-elf's insistence that he do everything and Molly's territorial instincts when it came to her kitchen, it was best if the two young witches were not present. Molly was more than pleased to have a house-elf help her, but that didn't stop her from wanting to figuratively kick Dobby out of her domain periodically. It was when Molly shouted, "Out! Out! Out of my kitchen," that Hermione and Ginny knew that if Dobby weren’t there to help, they would get drafted.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder and saw the men buzzing around on their brooms while their wives sat under the shade of the spreading oak tree, heavy with children in their arms or wombs. The toddlers were running about under their fathers, shouting directions at them to fly this way and that in order to score.
Ginny was watching her husband fly about, her brow slightly furrowed, as Hermione sat with her in a companionable silence.
"So what happened in the closet?" Ginny asked.
The older witch heaved a sigh. "He mentioned you both talked."
There was a long pause before Ginny spoke again. "I always wondered if that was the reason for his lack of sexual creativity. He confirmed my suspicions."
Glancing at Ginny out of the corner of her eye, Hermione realized that no matter how hard she scrutinized, she could not see beyond the face that Ginny presented to the world.
Ginny gave her own troubled sigh. "I should have ignored my mother's – and brothers' – insistence that I remain a virgin till I married Harry. There is certainly something to the 'try before you buy' philosophy."
Hermione gave a light chuckle to the analogy. Funny thing was, she did try and didn't know if it could be any different than adequate. There seemed to be no way to win.
"Harry mentioned you talked, as well. How did he react?"
Ginny turned her red head to the side and shrugged slightly. "He was pretty understanding." She glanced over her shoulder at her husband once more. "But I got the sense that he was uncomfortable with it. That somehow he was at fault for letting it happen in the first place. I told him it was Lucius Malfoy and Tom Riddle's fault, but you know how Harry is. He still has trouble dealing with the idea that he can't fix everything and save everyone, that some things just slip through the cracks and we have to live with it and move on with life."
Reflecting on her friend's words, Hermione wondered if she was the same. She knew she was. But there was something about the wrongs of the world she wanted to set right, as if they were equations and her sole purpose was so solve them and find the correct answers. The thought of Snape and Malfoy came back to the forefront of her mind.
"I told Harry to go to the Muggle Alliance and see if there is a psychiatrist he could see. He really needs help, especially after that outburst with Colin."
Ginny stared at her feet. "I know." She glanced about to make sure they were alone without anyone eavesdropping. "You see why I think he would kill him? Or lie?"
Suddenly feeling tired, Hermione dropped her head. Her face was hidden behind a curtain of hair, as she reluctantly answered, "Yes."
She closed her eyes and mourned for the boy she once knew. Adulthood and the war had brought about changes that no longer made people appear in black or white, but varying shades of gray. Life was simpler when she was younger.
"At least he's willing to get help. Maybe you could see one too. It couldn't hurt," Hermione added for good measure.
Her friend shook her head. "I doubt even a professional, even a Muggle who knows about our world, could understand what it was like to be manipulated by the likes of Tom. You understand, but he understands better. He took the Dark Mark, he’d been used, too."
"Maybe for marriage counseling then?"
Hermione hoped she could get Ginny to reconsider and try to patch up her marriage instead of casting it aside.
Ginny looked about once more. "You know why I love him, really love him?"
She shook her head.
"He loves me for who I am. Not for the big family that comes part and parcel with marriage and not because his brother-in-law is also his best friend. And not because it's convenient to be with me, because you and Ron are around. I am his friend, not because of you and Ron, but despite it. He was willing to look past the fact I'm related to Ron and I hang around you and Harry to see me for Ginny, not some hanger-on like he always used to tease me in school."
"So he was willing to turn a blind eye to people you associate with that disgust him," Hermione sneered. "How very fucking noble of him."
"At least he can look past it. You still see him as a copy of his father and reigning prat of Slytherin."
Hermione turned her face away. When phrased like that, she sounded just as bigoted and close-minded as the people she hoped would be enlightened after the war to the fact that Muggle-borns could be just as powerful as pure-bloods.
"So what, am I supposed to embrace and welcome him with open arms?" Hermione asked sardonically.
"No, but you can at least be open to the idea that he's changed. Be civil. You're not exactly about to cross social paths with him, but be aware that he can be kind when treated with respect."
"Respect?" the brunette hissed between gritted teeth. "After…" She dropped her voice to a whisper, looking about. "After he called me a Mudblood countless times? You've got to be joking!"
"He's already admitted that he was wrong to believe all that pure-blood bullshit. He's grown up and moved on. Why don’t you?" Ginny said, glaring at her friend.
A shout behind them drew their attention away from the conversation. Harry was circling the grassy area holding the Snitch in his right hand. The children were shouting with joy, asking their uncle to show it to them, each of them wanting a chance to hold it.
The tension between the two witches abated slightly with the distraction.
"You want to know another reason why I love him?"
Hermione didn’t really want to know, but knew her friend would tell her regardless.
"When Harry wants to apologize, or a birthday or Christmas comes up, he owls you and has you take him shopping. He buys me lingerie or jewelry–"
"We should all be cursed with a rich husband who wants to buy us nice things," Hermione interrupted with a snort.
"What I was going to say – before I was interrupted," Ginny ground out, "was that Harry doesn’t bother to know me. He never asks what I want. He goes to you to find out what I want."
"Don't you want to be surprised?"
Ginny shook her head, frustrated with how to phrase what she was trying to say. "When we were dating, he would ask Ron where he should take me to dinner. He never asked me. It's like he's taken all he knows about me from talking to you and Ron and he doesn't try to get to know me better. I thought once we were married, he would open up and talk more, but he's just as secretive now with certain aspects of his life. He won't share. Getting him to open up and talk is like pulling blood from a stone. And he doesn't seem to be interested in knowing the real me. I feel like some damn trophy wife and I'm sick of it."
"Harry is a very private person."
"I'm his wife," the younger witch growled. "If he can't talk to me, then who can he talk to? But I guess I know the answer already. You and Ron. At least he knows me. Far better than Harry."
Hermione thought of a snide retort, making reference to what she saw through the keyhole about how much better Malfoy knew her, but held her tongue. In some ways, she did know Harry better than his own wife knew him.
"He listens, he asks me questions, he pays attention," Ginny remarked. "He knows I would prefer a nice bunch of peonies or tulips to some lingerie. He knows that I like milk in my tea and my opinion on a number of things. He can finish my sentences as easily as I can finish his jokes."
"I still think you should both go in for marriage counseling."
Hermione heard the rustle of the tall grass behind them. Turning around, she saw Fleur slowly waddling her way over to where they were sitting against the stone wall. Bill's wife was too far away to have caught any other their conversation, but Hermione hoped their terse tones did not carry as far as the oak where the other wives had been sitting.
Ginny and Hermione both plastered believable smiles on their faces as their sister-in-law, heavy with child, approached with her hands laced under her belly to ease the strain on her back.
"Hello, Fleur" Ginny greeted. "What brings you over to this part of the garden?"
"Can't I jus' stop by to zay 'ello? What is zee matter? Molly nagging you both about children again?"
"No," Ginny sighed. "Not yet. The day is still young."
The brunette witch didn't know whether to laugh or groan.
Fleur looked about conspiratorially. "You know, you should both do what Bill and I did."
Now the part-Veela had caught their attention, both regarding her with interest.
"When Bill and I got back from our 'oneymoon, Molly was already azking if I was pregnant."
At this news, both younger witches rolled their eyes in empathetic disgust.
"Zo, after a few infuriating months of her een'cesant pester'ing, I told her zat I 'ad gone off contracept'eeve potions and we were going to let nature take ‘er course."
Hermione and Ginny's eyes both lit up with the same realization. Bill and Fleur didn't announce the arrival of the first Weasley grandchild until shortly after their first anniversary.
"So when did you start trying?"
"On our ann'eeversar'ee."
"On the first try?" asked Ginny.
Fleur nodded. "And to make sure Molly stayed off my back that first year, I told ‘er zat nagging would only induce stress, which could interfere with fertility."
The two friends started laughing at this revelation. It was so simple it was brilliant.
"Why do you think it took a couple years for Charlie and Angelina to 'get down to business and start making babies?'" Fleur added with a wink, giving her best impersonation of her mother-in-law. Her French accent threw off the effect, but she hit the correct shrill pitch to get the point across.
It seemed Hermione and Ginny had been left out of the information loop when it came to dealing with Molly where the other Weasley women were concerned.
Placing her hands upon her back and giving a good stretch, Fleur concluded by saying, "I suggest that only one of you make that lee'ttle announcement at the time, and the other wait a few months. We don't want to have her suspee'cious now, no?"
They looked at each other and nodded.
"One, two, three," they jointly said.
Hermione won. Paper covers rock.
"Damn," Ginny exclaimed. "I knew I should have used scissors."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco was in the kitchen fetching another bottle of some fermented and distilled beverage while Severus was setting up the chessboard again.
"So who do you still have left on your schedule?" the dark haired wizard asked.
"Pardon?" Draco popped his head back into the parlor.
"I said, who do you have left for clients?"
Draco went back into the kitchen, looking for Severus' forty-year-old scotch. "Just three. Ginny and two others." The clinking of bottles being moved about punctuated his response. "Lavender was understanding enough to let me get rid of the one who wanted sex months ago and keep the ones who just wanted to talk instead."
He emerged from the kitchen holding the elusive scotch and two fresh glasses. He plopped himself back into the chair, as some of his grace had left him around the fifth round of Firewhisky.
"I hate lying to Ginny, but if certain powers that be go poking around, which it seems just might happen, then at least if Ginny gets interrogated, Lavender won't be in a bind. Another lovely clause to cover her own arse in case Moody takes an interest in our evening jobs. I think that was to cover your arse as well."
Severus grunted in acknowledgment as the last of the pieces had settled back onto their respective squares, ready for his black pieces to trounce Draco's white ones once more. He was brought back to the present by the sound of another round of libation being poured.
"Speaking of clients, when are you due to meet with Mrs. Weasley again?" Draco asked, knowing the question would nettle his mentor.
Victory Day was the one day a year Severus and Draco got together, talked about their clients, their wish for freedom, the most imaginative poisons and curses to hurl at Moody and Fudge, while drinking themselves blind. There was their weekly dinner in which they talked of other things, usually business, but the holiday was a bittersweet day for them. It reminded both men of the promise of a hopeful future taken away from them. Most of all, it represented the exchange of enslavement and servitude for imprisonment and ostracism.
Drinking his measure of scotch quickly, Severus grimaced and gingerly placed the glass down, still sober enough to feel the alcohol burn its way to his stomach.
"Thursday."
"So what does she do?"
One of the unspoken rules between Ginny and Draco was that they never discussed the Golden Trio. It was a verboten subject. However, he didn't mind discussing Mrs. Weasley with Severus, as his old Head of House had held the trio with as much contempt as him.
"I don't know," Severus replied in a low, gravelly voice. "I spent most of the time trying to save your hide and listen to her bemoan about her lousy husband, Mr. Weasley. I do know she is rather disillusioned with her marriage. It seems that she finally realized just what a dull boy she married. What is most interesting is the fact she had no idea about the binding property of bearing children." He directed his king's bishop pawn to advance.
"What?" Draco laughed. "You mean the know-it-all doesn't know everything?" He directed his queen's knight to charge, ignoring the weary looks his pieces were giving him, questioning his moves.
"Yes, rather amusing in a perverse sort of way. I suppose everyone had figured that since she researched everything before doing anything, she would be aware of the magic of children born in wedlock. Though knowing Molly, she probably withheld that information, hoping to trap the woman into an everlasting hell with her vapid son." Severus’ queen's rook advanced.
If Draco didn't know better, he would have guessed his friend felt sorry for the witch. But that would mean he actually cared about the bossy brunette. That would mean Fudge had lifted the Death Eater Decree, it was snowing in Hades, and pigs would replace owls for the postal system.
"So how much did she pay?" he blithely asked, while instructing his king's pawn to move forward.
Severus didn’t answer, choosing instead to study the board before making his next move.
"Well?" Draco prodded him, as a smirk played on his lips.
"(Mumble, mumble) Galleons," Severus muttered distractedly.
"I'm sorry. Didn't quite catch that," Draco said, leaning forward with his hand to his ear.
"Seven Galleons."
The loud thump was the sound of Draco hitting the floor as he slid out of his chair, laughing too hard to make any sound. It was becoming a rather annoying habit of the younger wizard to laugh at his old professor. When the cackling began to ring out, Severus gave him a swift boot to the thigh, letting his displeasure over the mockery be known.
Wiping away the tears, Draco climbed back into his chair, ignoring the deathly glares from his opponent, and the dull ache in his leg where the well polished footwear made contact.
"That's too rich," he gasped between breaths, then started laughing again at his own pun, "or should I say, not very." Stretching his legs out, the cocky wizard didn't notice Severus' queen advance. "Wait till I tell Ginny," he crooned with glee. The only thing missing from his mannerisms were the fly-like villainous rubbing of the hands.
His mentor fixed him with a steely glare. "You'll do no such thing," he sternly commanded.
"And why not?" the blond countered.
"Because if Ginny confronts Hermione about her visit to my abode, without Hermione being the one to confess her actions, then she may feel a need to spite you and end your miserable existence by telling Potter everything. Knowing the temper your lady friend has, it would be best if she were kept in the dark about this. We wouldn't want her to slip in a fit of rage, morally cornering Hermione. And that would lead her to correctly believe I was the one who had told you, thus through association, you and Ginny."
Draco sulked, as if he had been told Christmas was rescheduled to a much later date.
"Besides," Severus continued, "if my intuition serves me, then Hermione may be of use to us and our escape."
The Potions Master did not elaborate on his hunch. His suspicions based on the purple taint on Hermione's fingers led him to believe she was involved with potions or their ingredients in one way or another. If that were the case, her confidence in him should not be marred by the emotional outbursts of a certain redheaded witch. Granted Ginny was very good at lying and being deceptive, courtesy of her tutelage under Tom Riddle, but her temper was not just part of her nature, rather, it was nurtured by her family. If Hermione was the opportunity he and Draco had been seeking, he would have to gain her trust. Only if the plan came to fruition would Ginny be made aware of Hermione's visits.
Draco nudged another pawn forward, seemingly with no interest in the game now.
"You really must work on your subtlety, Draco. It's one of the few things your father was remiss in teaching you. Check and mate," Severus finished, with a coolly superior air about him.
Draco's pieces had had enough, and promptly walked off the board, boycotting any further games until the burning indignation they felt from their repeated losses faded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione sat between Harry and Ron at the table, though she knew in a short while, she and Harry would trade places so her husband and their friend could continue their discussion about the latest Puddlemere United game without talking around her. She and Ginny had been talking to each other around Harry's back, while the two men talked over her plate of food.
Charlie had his daughter Kayleigh in his lap, trying to feed her some mashed potatoes. She was reluctant to open her mouth as he kept saying, "Here comes the Quaffle, through the hoop." He was encouraging his little 'Sweet Pea' to eat, while he swooped the laden spoon about her face like a Chaser approaching the goal hoops. Angelina was busy making sure their other two children were sitting in their seats, instead of joining their cousins under the table.
The twins' youngest children, Jasper and Jasmine, were both asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms in their playpen, while their older siblings were crawling on all fours under the table playing a game of 'troll under the bridge,' with everyone's shoes. Florence and Grace were trying to coax them out and sit in their seats like proper children, as their husbands made no move to help. Fred and George seemed to delight whenever havoc was wrought at these family gathering.
Bill and Fleur were monopolizing one end of the table with their bickering brood. Fleur had born four children within five years, with her fifth on the way. Hermione secretly wondered how women like her sister-in-law and mother-in-law could have so many children without their uterus falling out. She supposed that women like Fleur and Molly were part rabbit. The mental image of Fleur with long, droopy ears, and Molly with a fluffy, wriggling rabbit tail almost made her choke on her butterbeer.
Percy and Penelope were sitting in the middle of the table with their two children, who behaved so well, Hermione had pondered the idea that Percy had spiked their milks with laudanum. Penelope, despite her ripening midsection, kept her children looking immaculately clean and well pressed.
Molly, and especially Arthur, was sitting at the other end of the table, basking in the joys of an overly full house of children and grandchildren. Arthur had always fancied himself to be some grand patriarch, and found no greater pleasure than letting his grandchildren run roughshod over him in their version of exuberant horseplay.
It was times like this that Hermione was overwhelmed. Growing up as an only child, she had spent many a holiday with just her parents. On a rare occasion, they were joined by the odd Aunt and Uncle and her cousins she saw but every few years. It was times like these that she mentally referred to her in-laws as "The Loud Family." She knew at the end of the day her ears would be ringing from the constant level of noise that assaulted her during her visit to the Burrow. Ron seemed to thrive in this particular environment, but Hermione found it sometimes made her wither under the constant stream of stimuli that barraged all her senses.
Hermione was still talking with Ginny about a mutual acquaintance that worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation when the brunette witch heard Molly mention in slightly louder than loud tones for the whole table to hear, "I wonder when Ginny and Hermione will have children of their own."
The noise level was immediately cut in half as many were wondering if another row would occur.
With a quick glance to Fleur first, Hermione cleared her throat and casually replied, "Actually, I'm going off potions this month and we'll see what happens."
Fleur's sly wink to Hermione went unnoticed by the rest of the table as the Weasley men began clapping Ron on the back in a manly display of testosterone and solidarity that he might soon join the club of fatherhood. Somehow, the idea of Hermione being the one who would have to bear the brunt of morning sickness, leg cramps, round ligament pain, stretch marks, shortness of breath, emotional outbursts, sleepless nights, heartburn, sore hips and back, Braxton-Hick contractions, swollen feet, and severe impairment to her short term memory for nine months seemed to have escaped the men's attentions. All the other Weasley wives gave Hermione a wistful look, as if to say, "Enjoy your time before the children while you can."
After everyone sat back down, Ron turned to his wife and whispered in her ear, "Really? We can start a family?"
He sounded so hopeful, that Hermione immediately regretted saying anything. She realized she should have warned Ron of her ruse to get his mother off her back.
In an effort to temper his rising hopes, Hermione whispered back in a quiet serious tone, "We'll talk about this at home."
Ron seemed to have caught part of Hermione's meaning, as the brightness of his smile faded a bit. She could see that he was now forcing his smile a little, as his eye no longer crinkled around the edges.
Feeling guilty for her lack of forethought and Ron's reaction to her pronouncement, she reached under the table and gave his hand a light squeeze. He squeezed back and his eyes didn’t look quite so disappointed.
Looking to her right, Hermione saw Harry and her stomach dropped. The hero of the day was trying to hide a scowl behind a glass of wine, sipping and continuing to hold it in front of his mouth, as if he were contemplating something. She recognized that troubled look and quickly glanced at Ginny, who returned a slightly worried look.
Harry drained his glass in one large swallow and reached for the bottle of Merlot, filling his glass not to the proper and genteel halfway point, but near the lip of the glass.
Hermione wondered if maybe she should have just let Ginny make the announcement instead. It was when she looked at Harry that she saw the jealousy bubbling underneath the surface.
She could almost hear him sulk in her mind, "Everyone else is starting a family, why not me?"
Contemplating if it would help to say anything, she decided Ginny might want to talk to Harry alone and inform him of their plan to get Molly to stop nagging. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so left out.
Just as Harry finished draining his second glass of wine in record time, Ron stood. "Well, I've got to get going to the pub. This is a big day for tips." He made his way around the table, giving everyone hugs and kisses, before heading off.
Hermione walked him to the fireplace in the kitchen.
"So," he paused, contemplating his next words within the relative privacy of the kitchen, "you're not really ready yet, are you?"
Hermione hung her head and shook it. "I'm sorry. Ginny and I should have told you and Harry first. Fleur told us this is what Bill and her did to get your mother to back off until they were ready." She raised her eyes seeking forgiveness.
He pulled her into a great bear hug and kissed the top of her head. "You're right, we're still young. There's plenty of time. Maybe we'll have a house by the time we start trying."
Hermione's heart leapt. It wasn't so much excitement as apprehension; the image of herself standing out in front of a house with a big, fat mortgage payment, a couple of redheaded urchins running around the yard playing with Ron, her body stretched to the limit due to being heavy with child filled her mind. This vision, for some reason she couldn’t comprehend at the moment, frightened her. Somehow, instead of finding it a pleasant thought, an ideal to strive for, she wanted to run away. From what, she did not know. All she was certain of was that she was not ready to have children with Ron.
When Ron stepped away from her side, Hermione felt no urge to reach out and give him one last parting kiss. And after he would Floo away to The Listing Broom, she would not yearn for his physical presence.
============
A/N: Though canon Molly seems to be all for letting a house-elf do all the work, and seeing nothing wrong with that, I do sense she still needs to lord over her kitchen as she's used to doing everything herself.
There is no game of 'troll under the bridge' that I know of, but it makes you think of what the children, especially the twins' children would do. Leaves much to the imagination, don't you think?
If you are not familiar with laudanum, it is a tincture of opium. My mother-in-law, during her research of her Yorkshire family, learned about female factory workers, in the woolen mills, who would feed their babies laudanum to keep them quiet while they worked. So of course I had to throw that in somewhere in this tale. Pretty gruesome in some respects.
Don't worry, this is going to get even more fucked up. Let's tighten the screws and see who snaps first.
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After