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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- 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
- 16
- 17
- 18
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"
Chapter Seventeen
"Alone At Midnight"

Disclaimer: We all know Rowling owns it all, but let me reiterate once more. J.K. Rowling is a literary goddess and I am unworthy. She owns the whole Harry Potter world and I don't. Oh well, maybe in my next life I'll hit the literary creativity jackpot.

============

Before she became fully conscious or opened her eyes, Hermione reached across the bed.

'He's still gone,' she thought, as her mind came into focus in the morning light.

Cracking open both eyes to make sure Ron wasn't simply farther away than her reach, Mrs. Weasley visually confirmed that her husband had not returned home in the middle of the night. A growing sense of uneasiness settled in her stomach. Tuesday morning had arrived and she had not seen nor heard from Ron since she stormed out of their flat Saturday night.

After her trip to Flourish and Blotts, then a stop by The Leaky Cauldron for a glass of sherry to kill time before going back home Saturday night, Hermione wasn't surprised to find that Ron had left. There was no note. The only evidence of his departure was the absence of a large duffel bag, some haphazardly strewn clothes – a result of hasty packing – and his missing toothbrush.

'At least he's brushing,' she thought idly.

In the past, neither of them asked where the other went for the night. The typical duration of separation was only one night. Ron was the one who usually left, but on a couple of occasions, Hermione had decided to be gone for the night. On such occasions, Ginny and Harry put her up for the night in their guest room; her friends never questioning her reasons for showing up or prying into the details of why she and Ron were fighting. Hermione thanked the fates Ginny and Harry never brought up the issue in conversation, keeping it an unspoken topic between the three of them.

Ron had never mentioned where he went when he disappeared for the night and Hermione never asked. In the past, she always figured he crashed at the Potters or at the house of one of his teammates.

Now he had been gone for three nights in a row. The last time he was gone that long was after a spectacularly horrific fight about a month after Harry and Ginny were married. It took a few months for things to thaw between them after he returned home that time.

Since Ron had not owled his wife since he left, and Hermione had been too upset and full of pride to owl him first, she began to worry that he was all right.

Quickly rising from bed, Hermione padded to the kitchen and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill.

-------

Ron,

I am concerned. Please let me know you are all right.

Hermione

-------

It was short and to the point. There were neither sentimental salutations nor a loving close to the note. She wasn't begging him to come back, but it did let him know she still cared.

Pigwidgeon, nestled on his perch, ruffled his feathers and preened himself a bit, knowing he would have a letter to deliver. The tiny owl had remained at the flat, waiting for his owner. It was this fact that Pig was still there that she knew he would come back, but his prolonged absence still made her worry for her husband.

"Pig, you probably know where he is. Take this to him for me, please. Wait to see if he'll respond. If it's in the middle of the day, you can come to work to deliver his reply to me."

Hooting, Pig took the letter with an admonishing nip at Hermione's fingers. The bird knew when his master was gone, and no doubt blamed his mistress for Ron’s lack of presence.

Once the owl had taken wing, Hermione sunk into a kitchen chair, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes before scrubbing her face with her hands, a habit born of exhaustion and weariness.

Glancing at the cooker, the sleep-deprived witch debated whether or not to bother making breakfast. Last night she hadn’t really gotten around to cooking anything, preferring instead to head off to the bookstore and while away the hours. She could use a strong cup of tea to kick start her heart and brain, but she wondered if she had the fortitude to fix something with substance for her stomach.

Hermione had been slowly sliding into a mild depression since Sunday, and one of the side effects was a complete loss of appetite. Just the thought of fixing toast seemed too much of a bother and the idea of preparing a bag lunch to take with her felt like an insurmountable task. At work she would find the energy and drive to analyze everything that needed testing, but preparing a bit of food for herself seemed too much.

As she quickly rose from her chair, she noticed her peripheral vision started to fade to gray and the world became myopically distorted. Grabbing onto the chair for support, as her knees had gone weak and her balance failed, Hermione stood still and waited for her blood pressure and vision to return to normal.

"Sod it all. Just spend the money and buy yourself a scone on the way to work," she convinced herself, before heading off to the shower.

Low blood sugar was definitely not something to trifle with, especially when one needed to be alert when testing ingredients. Passing out, face first, into a cauldron of bubotuber pus would not exactly be the most pleasant way to catch forty winks, not to mention the embarrassment involved with waking up in St. Mungo's after such an accident.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Calpurnia Fudge could have given Lady Macbeth lessons in manipulation and ambition. Cornelius' wife was the quintessential example of "power behind the throne." If she ever read "The Scottish Play" written by Shakespeare, Calpurnia would have called the murderous, conniving character a weak-willed Hufflepuff burdened with a conscience. Why else would she go mad at the end, if not for the fact that she lost her nerve?

It was through her tessellation of friends and interconnections that Calpurnia Fudge got her husband elected Minister of Magic, and through some very deft maneuvering, kept him in office after the Department of Mysteries Battle fiasco. Her husband was convinced Voldemort was not on the rise again and had denied his return for a full year until that fateful June day in 1996. The Slytherin alumni did not share her husband's opinion on that particular matter regarding You-Know-Who, instead waiting to see if claims by the Boy-Who-Lived were true or not before taking any definitive action on the matter. When Voldemort reappeared and the story ran in the Daily Prophet of his return, Mrs. Fudge took immediate steps to ensure that no matter which side won, Cornelius would still be Minister. It was no small coincidence that Calpurnia was friends with the wives of many known Death Eaters, though she did not advertise that little fact.

And with her aggressive networking and many connections, it was no surprise that Calpurnia was introduced to Lavender Brown, which eventually led to a once a month appointment for the Minister's wife to meet with Severus for an afternoon of chess and conversation.

Lavender's knack of knowing the unknowable had lead to an arrangement of Mrs. Fudge showing up on the second Tuesday of each month at one o'clock with a masked gentleman, who was the best chess player she had ever had the pleasure of playing against. It was her skill and cunning in chess and life that made Severus respect the woman as a formidable opponent, and hoped never to cross her. If Calpurnia had bought into the pure-blood propaganda Voldemort spewed and backed the megalomaniac, the wizarding world would have been a far different and darker place.

With the knowledge that he would be spending the afternoon with the woman, Severus spent most of Monday night sifting through a Pensieve full of memories and contemplating how he could deftly ask Mrs. Fudge about Hermione Weasley without seeming too curious about the younger witch. But first, he had to prepare for a meeting with Draco and Ginny.

Once Severus had eaten breakfast, went through his morning correspondences and dressed, he walked to Draco's flat located one floor below his. Arriving at a quarter to ten, he had a few minutes to talk with young Malfoy before his lover showed up.

The dark haired wizard sat in the wing back that faced away from the door, purposefully choosing the seat so he would not be seen when Ginny came through the door.

"Shall I break the news that her best friend is seeing you as a gigolo, Severus, or shall I leave the honors to you?" Draco asked, one brow arched and a sardonic smile forming on his face, as he exuded hubris.

"That depends. Is she the sort of person who shoots the messenger?"

Draco didn't answer, instead turning to walk to the window looking out onto the rooftops and neighboring buildings, his mood suddenly subdued. "We tell her everything," he simply stated. "I reviewed my contract with Lavender. Now that there is a way out, I can tell her about the other women I'm not sleeping with anymore."

"I wouldn't be too hasty," Severus interrupted.

"Hasty? Hasty? I know you are just as anxious as I am to leave this country, turn your back on it and never return. Do you or do you not know if you can get Mrs. Weasley to get us those damn ingredients or not?"

"These things take time," Severus assured the younger man, his fingers steepled in front of him. "A plan poorly executed will only make things worse. I have already begun my plans with Hermione in terms of bringing her around. All we need to do now is ask Ginny a few questions and then I will know how to proceed," he concluded.

No sooner had he mentioned the witch's name than they heard her knock. Draco opened the door only to have Ginny fling herself at him.

"Oh Draco! I wish I could have seen you last week, but I couldn't get away. I've missed you so much. Kiss me," she entreated.

Draco dipped his head, but did not let his passions take him where they desired. Pulling back from her mouth, he smiled.

Ginny sensed that something was amiss; Draco hadn’t kissed her with his usual passion. She noted the odd look on his face and asked, "What's wrong?"

Severus took this as his cue to clear his throat and peer around the wing of his chair to spy the two lovers still caught in an embrace.

"Severus!" she exclaimed. Leaving Draco's arms, she walked over to her friend, as he rose from his chair. "It's been too long. How have you been?" She gave him a warm smile before leaning forward to give him a dry kiss upon his cheek.

Though he usually abhorred the way Death Eaters' wives greeted him with the same gesture from years before, he did not mind Ginny's warm greeting for he knew the genuine sincerity of her words and gesture. In many ways it was better than Molly's rib cracking hugs he would receive on a rare occasion, as her daughter was less effusive with her emotions, as well.

Once they all sat, Severus in his chair and Ginny and Draco on the settee, the red head asked, "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"

Severus and Draco exchanged looks before the elder wizard spoke. "It has come to our attention that your friend, Mrs. Hermione Weasley, works in the Department of Standards and Regulations testing potion ingredients."

Her brow furrowed, Ginny replied hesitantly, "Yes?"

"Draco and I have come upon a plan to get us out of Britain. And according to Draco, 'us' refers to the three of us," Severus delivered slowly with a stony face.

Ginny's face brightened, and her eyes filled with tears, as she turned her face to Draco. "Is it true? Can we really be together?" she whispered, not daring to believe it was true.

"We think so," Draco answered before Ginny hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his shoulder, sobbing with relief.

After a few moments, Ginny righted herself, pulling away from her lover's embrace, but still clasping his hand in hers. "I'm sorry, it's just been a very rough couple of weeks. How does Hermione fit into this?" She wiped at her eyes before Draco produced a handkerchief for her to use and blot away the offending tears.

Draco spoke this time. "We can make a Polyjuice potion to enable us to leave the country. Your friend can get us the ingredients; you’ll brew it under Severus' supervision and we leave the country."

Ginny beamed a huge smile at the both of them before her face fell. "Polyjuice Potion… I never would have thought of that." She buried her head in her hands and started to cry once more. "I'm such a ninny. All this time in front of me and I never thought…" Pulling her tear streaked face from her hands. "I'm so sorry, I should have told you about Hermione or thought of it… I just… I always hoped of finding some way of getting your names cleared so you wouldn't have to flee like common criminals."

"It's not your fault, Ginny," Severus reproved her. "Draco and I have had this plan for a few years at least. We’ve kept the information from you as a measure to protect yourself and us in the event of your husband or others discovering your association with Draco. No doubt, you might have been slipped Veritaserum or had your thoughts probed in some farce of an investigation. And then our efforts would never come to fruition. All that matters now is that we know about Mrs. Weasley's position within the Ministry."

"Since I never told you, how did you discover this?" she queried.

Draco gave a quick snort, trying to reign in his laughter.

Giving his young friend a pointed glare, Severus said, "Since you find this so amusing, I'll let you inform Ginny of her sister-in-law's extracurricular activities."

Confusion written on her face, Mrs. Potter looked at each wizard searching for some clue about what they were alluding to.

Draco swallowed, trying to regain his composure, but failed. He snickered as he said, "Well, it seems your friend had been getting her intellectual urges satisfied in other pastures." Glaring at Draco for his use of an unusual metaphor, comprehension began dawning on Ginny’s face. "It seems Mrs. Weasley is seeing Severus on the side."

There was a pause before the silence of the room was pierced by a shrill, "WHAT?!?"

Draco’s gales of laughter didn't help the matter and Severus shook his head at the laughing man, regretting his decision to let Draco break the news less-than-delicately to Ginny that Hermione was seeking the company of another man.

"It's not funny, Draco!" Ginny's head snapped and fixed Severus with a glare that bordered on murderous.

Before she would begin her tirade on him, Severus calmly explained, "I'm not sleeping with her, I'm just providing a sympathetic ear to her and some scintillating conversation. It would seem Miss Brown came upon Hermione in a bar the night she found you and Draco together. Faced with the decision of confessing everything to your husband, and thus forcing you to leave Mr. Potter if such an action resulted in Draco's untimely demise, or playing the good friend and hoping to get you and your husband to patch things up, I was able to encourage her to take the latter action. She came to me in tears, distraught over the moral conundrum of what to do."

Ginny's face softened considerably and a look of guilty remorse replaced her anger. Looking away, Ginny said, "She caught me right after I left here that Thursday afternoon. She forced me to confess everything or she would go to Harry and tell him all she saw. Evidently, Harry has been suspecting me and so he loaned Hermione his Invisibility Cloak. Seems she spied us through a key hole and has enough graphic evidence for a Pensieve to damn Draco and me."

"What?" Draco interrupted. "You never told me in your owl she watched us!"

"What was I supposed to say in a letter. 'Oh, by the way, besides catching us, she got quite an eyeful of us fucking our brains out?' I figured the details were better left for when I could see you in person," Ginny hotly replied.

Severus waved his hands dismissively. "Enough. We get the point of that she caught you two, despite your attempts not to get caught. We need to know what you told her during your 'confession.'"

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Ginny tried to recall everything she said. "First of all, she wanted to know why I was with Draco. So I told her about us during the war and then after Victory Day, before the decree. I explained how Draco and I were going to tell my family about us right after the wedding; how you both disappeared and that… stupid law." She spat out the last few words venomously. "Apparently Hermione was not versed on the finer points of the decree, so I enlightened her."

Leaning forward with interest and resting his arms on his knees, Severus asked evenly, "And what was her reaction?"

"She seemed upset that Moody would betray you. Hermione seems to share my opinion that it's an injustice. We've talked a few times about it and she's even asked about you, Severus."

His brow quirked. "Really?" he drawled.

"Yes," Ginny answered tersely. "I told her I didn't know where you were, because I knew she would go after you, question you about this whole decree and everything. I know you don’t want to be found, especially by her. But it seems that she’s found you regardless. Does she know it's you?"

Severus shook his head. "No, when Miss Brown first approached me about taking her as client I was… reluctant. But it seems she had a very strong incentive for me to take your friend on as a new customer. I wore a full-face mask and covered my hair. But… now that we know she is sympathetic to our situation, I shall begin to reveal myself to her slowly. If I remember her sense of curiosity correctly, the question of who I am and what happened to Severus Snape will drive her mad. I don't suppose it will take long for her to realize we are one and the same. Hopefully, she will be more than willing to help us get the necessary ingredients."

"But some of the key ingredients are highly regulated, aren't they?" she asked.

Draco spoke this time, "Yes, but as a tester of said ingredients, she can slip a little extra away for 'testing' purposes."

"Hermione is one for sticking to the rules," Ginny said, worry creeping into her voice that their hope for escape was empty. "She's not about to go breaking the law–"

"That woman broke into my personal stores and stole boomslang skin, set my robes on fire, abused the use of a Time Turner to aid a known criminal to escape, and abandoned Umbridge to the whims of an angry herd of Centaurs. Shall I go on?" the older wizard snarled.

Ginny sat back and frowned a little before the corners of her mouth began to curl into a small smile. "You do have a point, Severus." Her face turned serious once more. "But if Hermione has already talked to you once regarding what to do about telling Harry about Draco and me, what makes you think she'll continue to see you?"

Flashing a rare smile, Severus coolly replied, "I know this may not be news to you and that you will find it unpleasant to hear, but it seems your brother, Ronald, is not the best conversationalist in the world. Hermione has come back to me for a second visit already seeking someone to have long talks with. Your brother seems fixated on talking about two subjects, Quidditch and chess, neither which appeal to her very much and she wants a companion with whom to discuss a wide variety of subjects. The other evening we had a rather nice discussion about Arithmancy, which to my dismay, I actually enjoyed."

Ginny and Draco exchanged subtle odd looks with each other at Severus' reluctant confession.

Continuing, he said, "It seems your brother called her a rather nasty name once. What was it? Ah yes, an intellectual snob." He articulated the slur. "So she's seeing me as a means of saving her marriage from intellectual boredom. If she can satisfy herself on a mental level with me, then perhaps she can convince herself that her marriage to your brother isn't such an empty future of mindlessness."

"Ron isn't stupid," Ginny grumbled.

"She never said that he was. She merely stated that her husband – your brother – holds no interest in anything she wishes to discuss, be it her work, her interests, politics or anything not pertaining to Quidditch or chess." He watched Ginny slump against Draco defeatedly. "Hermione is trying to save her marriage."

Ginny placed her face in one hand and muttered, "I had a feeling that something like this might happen. And the friendship that we have is such that we don't talk of intellectual pursuits. I'm sorry that she had to go to you to find what she needs. Hermione is a very bright girl and I guess Ron isn't giving her what she needs in that capacity."

"Well, her desire to alleviate her boredom and frustration has led her to us, where she can serve a means to our ends," Draco added, "so there is no need to chastise yourself for something that you have no control over."

Rising from her seat, Ginny began pacing angrily. "I still can’t believe she forced Harry and me into counseling when she's seeing you –" she growled, sweeping an arm at Severus, "who she thinks is a gigolo – on the side. Of all the hypocritical things!" She folded her arms in front of her chest before giving a great huff.

It amazed Severus how much Ginny looked exactly like her mother at that moment, a thinner and younger version, but the facial mannerisms and posture was an exact copy of Molly. "Speaking of which, we need to know what is happening in the counseling session with your husband," Severus interjected. "Since you do intend to leave with us, we should try to bring your husband's line of thinking to heel so that when you do leave him, he will not go after you, but accept it that the marriage is dead."

Ginny nodded. "We have sessions once a week on Thursday nights. Last week was our first appointment. Basically I told him that I loved him, but I'm not in love with him."

Severus was strongly reminded of Hermione's similar confession to him during her first visit with him.

"He was pretty shocked and upset. I told him that I only went out with him because my family was hounding and pressuring me to do so. I couldn't tell him my reluctance was because I was still in love with Draco, pining away for him because he disappeared without a trace." She turned and gave Draco a meaningful look. Still looking into Draco's eyes, she said, "I told him I really never wanted to marry him in the first place." Ginny dabbed at the few tears that were forming once again in her eyes before going to sit back down next to the blond wizard.

Turning his face away from the two lovers, Severus felt his heart lurch in remembrance. Gabrielle once said that to him, that she never wanted to marry him in the first place, but only did so out of an obligation to family and duty. It was during their first real fight as husband and wife. But the major difference was that he shouted the same thing back to her; it was mutual, not like Potter's unrequited love for his wife.

Clearing his head of those memories, he focused once more on the moment at hand. "Good. Never tell your husband about your relationship with Draco prior to yours with your husband, even if you omitted his name; it would only serve to feed his suspicions. Instead, slowly make him realize this marriage is over, so that when you leave, he won't try to win you back. If you feel you must tell him, then do it in a letter after we have safely left the country."

Ginny nodded.

"When will you see Hermione again?" the Potions master asked.

"We have lunch planned tomorrow," the witch answered. "She said she wants to bring her own lunch and that we could eat in the park. I can now only assume, now that I know, that it is her way of saving money for your fees. She and Ron don't have much money at all. I hope you aren't charging her very much," Ginny admonished him.

"Miss Brown set the fee, based on a sliding scale. I can assure you it is well within her budget."

Draco started laughing again. "I'll say it is."

Severus and Ginny both glared at Draco, but the younger wizard ignored their reproving stares and had a good laugh.

Ignoring Draco's chortles, Severus instructed, "Tomorrow when you meet with Hermione, if she asks about the decree or anything to do with Draco or me, divulge nothing. Feign ignorance regarding any additional details. When the time comes for me to divulge my identity to her, I will answer all her questions. We have to lead her to believe that the only moral high ground is to help us. And when you do see her for lunch," he appended, "please see that she eats something. She's positively skin and bones." He turned his face away to scowl at the fire, ignoring the quirk in Draco's brow at his last statement.

"Oh, one more thing," Ginny amended, ignoring the urge to question Severus' sudden concern about her friend's eating habits, "on Victory Day, at the Ministry, I saw Hermione making the rounds talking to old Order members. At one point I saw her speaking with Tonks, which lead to Tonks hauling her off behind a potted palm. I can only assume she is already asking people about you and Draco. I should also mention, when I 'confessed' to Hermione the other day, I told her that I love Draco, but that I just can't bear to leave Harry. I think that's what may have fueled her speculation that she could fix my marriage."

Draco pulled his hand away from hers sharply and turned away from her. "Draco, I didn't mean it," Ginny chided him. "I'd leave him in a heart-beat without a second thought. You're the one who said to wait until the time is right. I said that to keep Hermione from spilling everything to Harry. If she knew there was nothing left, what's to stop her from just telling him to spite you, thinking you broke up my marriage? But she knows that if you leave, I'm going with you."

Draco moved back to her side with the look of a scolded schoolboy. "I'm sorry. It's just that I get so jealous knowing you're with him every night," he petulantly bemoaned with a frown.

"You two can hash out your lover's quarrel later," Severus said snappishly. "Right now we must discuss other things. Ginny, you did well. When the time comes, your departure will not be a surprise, as she has been apprised of your intention to go. The question is, will she make the non-inclusion of you a part of her agreement to help us?"

Ginny smirked, in her best imitation of Draco. "Just make her see reason. If Draco leaves without me, I'll be leaving shortly anyway to join him, so it doesn't matter. What's the point in saving a marriage that’s in shambles that I want out of anyway? And to what end? Deny justice for two wronged individuals just to save a failing marriage? I already told her that I'm miserable with Harry and even without Draco, it was only a matter of time before I left him. She still has this silly notion I'm going to tell Draco it's over now that Harry and I are in counseling."

Absorbing Ginny’s words, Severus told her, "If she asks anymore about calling it off with Draco, evade the question for as long as you can. Neither confirm nor deny it. Once we get her to agree, then she will feel some prerogative to complete the task of getting us free. If she asks about counseling, tell her only the negative, none of the perceived positive progress you are making. Paint a picture for her that it really is getting worse."

"Have you or Draco thought about how we’re all to get out of Britain together?" Ginny asked.

"We have some ideas," Draco volunteered, "but nothing solid. Just contingencies for what the situation calls for. Probably something with a Portkey, but everyone has to pick up and use those at the Ministry now. Even international Flooing is done through the Ministry."

"If you two do use Polyjuice potion, I've just thought of a very plausible and easy way out of the country," Ginny offered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing with her head bent over the cauldron, Hermione peered in at the portion of Roc feather floating in the acidic solution base. Just as the liquid started to come to a boil, she knew the batch of Roc quills sitting in the crate next to her were fakes, as the feather started to disintegrate instead of becoming hard as a diamond.

The brunette witch groaned with frustration. 'Damn! The paperwork involved is going to be hell,' she silently grumbled.

Before starting to fill out form 27b/6, Hermione would have to figure out what the offending items were made out of first. A cursory look at the rest of the quill still laying on the chopping block gave her an idea. Quickly returning from the supply cabinet, she poured a few drops of Shrinking Solution on the so-called Roc feather and watched as it returned to its normal size.

"Eagle feathers. Just bloody wonderful," Hermione cursed at no one in particular.

Striding to her office in a huff to get the proper forms, plus one to revoke the importation license of the offending company that sent it, as it was their third offense within a year of sending falsified ingredients, she stopped dead at the doorway to her office.

Pigwidgeon was sitting atop of her desk with a letter attached to his leg. The bird, in a fit of boredom and spitefulness, had begun shredding a Ministry manual that was sitting atop her desk, and the owl had purposefully left droppings on her chair as a final insult.

Resisting the urge to swat at the bird, as it would not do to make her personal postal delivery apparatus upset with her even more, she removed the letter and reluctantly thanked the bird for its delivery.

Hermione sat at her desk and found a half-eaten biscuit in her top drawer to give the owl. With slightly shaky hands, she unfolded the scrap of parchment.

-------

Hermione,

I'm fine. I'll come back home when I'm ready and wanted.

Ron

-------

Her heart sank. In some way, she was relieved he was all right and not dead in some dark alley as her worried mind had randomly imagined the previous night while she lay alone in their bed, but the tone of his letter told her that he wasn't ready to come home yet. Hermione vaguely wondered how long it would take for things to thaw between them, if ever, once he did return home.

Tearing her eyes away from the letter, she said, "Thanks, Pig."

The owl took that as his cue and took flight, winging its way through the corridors and somehow out of the Ministry building.

As she looked through her drawers for the infamous 27b/6 form, she heard someone clearing their throat from the doorway to her office. "Receiving personal owls while at work is not within Ministry guidelines," Madam Dushka sniffed.

'Aw, hell.' Hermione pasted on her best apologetic face. "I'm sorry, but it was a family emergency," she lied in what she hoped was a rather convincing manner. "It's the first and hopefully last one."

"See that it is," her superior snipped at her. Changing the topic, Madam Dushka dictated, "You need to come down to the customs locker. Another smuggled batch of Golden Fleece just arrived. When will these people get it in their heads that Flooing or Apparating into the country with goods not cleared through customs will wind up in our hands?" the sour witch asked rhetorically.

"I'll be there in a few moments after I find a 27b/6," Hermione said.

"Not another batch from the Damocles Brothers?"

Hermione nodded.

"Fine. Be quick about it. The fleece has ticks and it’s starting to make the guard at the locker itch," Madam Dushka dictated before she turned and minced back towards her own office, nose stuck high up in the air as if her head really was up her own arse.

"Ruddy bitch," Hermione quietly muttered under her breath, silently amazed at how Ron's colorful language had crept into her own vocabulary.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything was set for Calpurnia's arrival. Full tea was prepared and Severus had pulled out his best set of casual summer robes, custom tailored with an elegant bias cut that flowed with the slightest movement, in addition to his standard black trousers and tailored shirt. He would be removing his outer robe soon after she arrived, but it gave the appearance of genteel propriety that he greeted her wearing them. Cooling charms had been placed around the flat, as some of the summer heat wave still lingered. Quickly glancing in his wardrobe, he pulled out a half mask that matched the dark green piping on his trousers and cuffs.

Standing in front of a full-length mirror he scrutinized his appearance. He flashed a brief smile at his reflection in the non-enchanted glass. The tooth whitening solution he developed for Lavender a few year prior didn't make his teeth perfectly white, but at least they didn't have the noticeably yellow, heavily coffee and tea-stained hue they had before. Now they had a more natural color, unlike the blinding neon whiteness of Lockhart's. His teeth were still crooked, but most of the offending dental alignment was on his lower set and at least his upper incisors and canines were somewhat straight or at least passable. One more pass of a comb through his hair and he was ready to accept this guest.

Calpurnia knocked on the door at one o'clock exactly with her usual punctuality.

Opening the door, he gave her a close lipped smile. "Good afternoon, Calpurnia," he greeted her with a bow. "As always, it's a pleasure to see you again. You are looking well."

"Thank you, Richard," she greeted him, gliding into his flat like royalty. She quickly pulled off her white gloves and handed them to him and allowed him to help her remove her cloak. "I can't tell you how I've been looking forward to my visit with you. Cornelius can be such a trial at times," she said haughtily with the air of boredom.

Severus kept his mouth shut and nodded, walking over to the kitchen to allow Marf to take Calpurnia's gloves and cloak, along with his robes as well. Her affectations were a bit nerve grating at times. Granted, she married an easily manipulated fool, but she knew the benefits to such a marriage, such as helping him ascend to the post of Minister and reaping the many benefits that came long with it. At least Calpurnia's monthly visits kept some of the Ministry spotlight on his job away from him and Draco.

"Would you care for some tea now or would you like to start with a game of chess," he asked cordially with a grin.

To watch the two interact with one another, one would think it was a pleasant visit between two friends; however, with both being Slytherin alumni, it was a different matter all together. Each always measured the choice of words and tone involved with each sentence, comment or question. Both were astute enough to realize that each remark would be mentally recorded for use at a future point in time, be it for conversation or their own personal gain. Granted, Calpurnia was seeing a gigolo, but only ever talked and played chess with him. If questioned in the future about the business arrangement of their meetings, she could always claim she knew nothing about his occupation and merely knew him as a friend. Severus would never mention his meetings with her to anyone other than Lavender and Draco, as Calpurnia had enough connections with the right people to cause a great deal of trouble for Severus and Miss Brown, should word of her monthly visits get out.

So it was that they were in a mutual standoff and meted each word with careful consideration while having a seemingly easy volley of conversation.

"A game of chess would be lovely, thank you." She walked toward the chessboard set up for a match.

Being a proper gentleman, he held her chair for her as she set herself in one of the twin wing backs flanking the chessboard. Mrs. Fudge always played black, as white always moves first. She made sure to see the first move of her opponent before making her own, in chess and in life.

They played their first game in silence, enjoying the skill and concentration required to win against the other. The only three people Severus ever lost a game to were Albus, Calpurnia Fudge and Ronald Weasley. Though he had only ever played two games with the youngest male Weasley during a long summer afternoon while stuck at the Order's headquarters, he was still smarting years later over the fact that a seemingly dim wizard thoroughly trounced him at chess, then gloated over it for months afterwards.

Sensing Calpurnia becoming vexed, as he was getting close to winning, Severus decided to let her have the game; consequently, she would be more companionable during tea. It wouldn't do to have the witch upset over a lost game when he wanted to glean some information from her. When the opportunity came up where he could either move his bishop or his knight, as both were valid moves, he decided to move his knight. If he had calculated correctly it would allow his opponent to win in ten moves.

"Check and mate," Calpurnia announced smugly in nine moves.

"An excellent game," he complimented her. She really didn't play well at all, as Severus could tell her concentration was not exactly on the game, but he was not about to make mention of it. "Would you care for tea now before we have another game?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," she said, her knees creaking as she rose from her seat before walking over to the settee.

Service for two appeared on the low table in front of her, as Severus rose and walked over to a chair opposite her.

Grabbing a few savories for his plate after pouring his guest a cup of tea, Severus sat back and casually asked, "So how has your month been?"

Usually Calpurnia went into a lengthy discussion of some of the backroom political maneuverings that went on, none of which she was involved with, she assured Severus. Other times she would go on about some of the societal gatherings she had attended or charity balls she had gone to recently.

"Actually, many of the cotillions this past month have been rather trying," she started.

'Yes, manipulation and deceit can be so exhausting while enjoying oneself at a garden party,' Severus thought dryly, though he nodded in a very sympathetic manner, and hummed in agreement as he took a sip of tea.

"Just last week, I was at a party being held by Judith and William Weebles. We were all having a lovely time, and many guests had brought their children to the event as well, holding a small party for them in the west garden so they would stay out from under foot. Well, my friend Dolores Umbridge was there and doing quite well, considering her condition," Calpurnia mentioned.

"Oh really? What is her condition? You mentioned she was not well, but never specified exactly what her malady was," Severus politely interrupted her. He had spent most of the previous night going through a Pensieve full of memories to make sure that his client had never mentioned in the past the cause of her friend's condition, as he had his suspicions. After surveying many hours of memories later, he was sure Calpurnia had evaded telling him the specific cause of Umbridge's illness.

"Quite tragic really," she started to explain. "About seven years ago, Dolores was working at Hogwarts as an administrator and while investigating some student mischief, she was led into a herd of angry Centaurs by a malicious student and abandoned to their whims."

'That is definitely not the way it happened and you know it,' he thought bitterly. Upon hearing how Miss Granger had lured the toady witch out into the Forbidden Forest under the guise of revealing a "secret weapon," he thought the young Gryffindor had showed amazing amounts of equal parts cunning and stupidity. In his mind, it was only sheer luck that both she and Potter didn't wind up killed by Grawp, the Centaurs, or anything else that lurked out in the Forbidden Forest.

"So what happened to this student?" he asked, hoping he didn't seemed too interested.

"Well, she had her comeuppance. Some uppity Muggle-born witch. I made sure that no one would give her an apprenticeship under the threat of revoking Ministry grants and funding. There were a few who might have disregarded my requests, but they died in the war anyway, so it doesn't matter. Currently she is languishing in a dead-end job in the Ministry testing ingredients or something like that. Poor Muggle-born has no idea what a lowly position she has. I have a few friends working within her department to make sure she never gets advanced within the Ministry. Hopefully she'll get a clue and quit, and be burdened with a gaggle of children sired by one of those Weasley boys she's married to, Roland, Robert, something like that. But stay or go, that impertinent girl will never amount to anything the way everyone was crowing about, supposedly the smartest witch in a century.” Calpurnia snorted. “If she was so smart, she'd get the idea she'll never get anywhere, go home and be a good little breeder of more Weasley urchins like the rest of the Weasley wives."

Severus wished he had a full mask on, as it took considerable effort to stop from clenching his teeth out of anger. Calpurnia Fudge was taking out an unfounded grudge on Hermione Weasley, all on the pretense that Dolores Umbridge was the wronged party. Had Severus been able to have a hand in the demise of the phlegmatic harpy, he would have staked her to the ground spread eagle and send out personal invitations to every dark creature lurking within the Forbidden Forest to do their worst upon her, if he didn't poison her first.

Knowing a response was required after her little speech, Severus replied, "Quite right," while making sure his did not clench his fists nor the muscles on the side of his jaw, which were itching to twitch and flex with agitation. "So what happened at the garden party, you were saying?"

"Well it seems the Weebles were not privy to the reason behind Dolores' condition regarding her Equinophobia and had hired a pony ride company for the children's party. When she heard one of the ponies whinny, she took off like she was strapped to a Firebolt. It was quite horrific, screaming about, ripping all those bows from her hair, the poor dear," she said, emoting sympathy from every pore.

Severus wasn't sure if Calpurnia truly felt anything for her so called friend or was rather put out when an ally within the Wizengamot and Ministry had been taken out of commission. Either way, he felt a cold fury course through his veins upon the revelation of Calpurnia's influence on Hermione Weasley's career. This knowledge burned a hole in the pit of his being. He had known what it was like to be overlooked and denied requests to advance in his career at Hogwarts year after year after year.

Each year the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was dangled in front of him like some golden carrot if he just taught Potions one more year. "But Severus, there is no one as qualified as you to teach our students the subtle art of Potions. However, I will keep you in mind for the position if a worthy candidate comes along to replace you," Albus had told him each year.

Severus knew the only thing he could teach better than Potions was Defense Against the Dark Arts, as he had been there on the other side and knew just what underhanded bastards like himself could do with a well placed hex or curse. Yet, the Headmaster continued to put fools, werewolves, bureaucratic toads, and Voldemort's host into the position, which should have been rightfully his. And now Mrs. Fudge was controlling the career of a promising young witch, someone who had as much potential as he once had before he took the Dark Mark and ruined his future. As much as he would have laughed sardonically at the irony of it, Severus Snape suddenly felt a great deal of empathy for Hermione.

"That poor woman," Severus chimed in. "I do hope she's all right," he lied.

"Unfortunately, orderlies from St. Mungo's were required to subdue and sedate her before taking her there. The sight of her wading out into the duck pond with her robes hitched up over her head as she thrashed about screaming will haunt me forever." Calpurnia shook her head. "And she had made such good progress over the years; all that therapy gone to waste. They even had to replace one of the healers on rounds in her ward, as his last name was Cheval. Just the mention of his name by the other healers when addressing him sent her into twitching fits."

He shook his head and clucked his tongue in sympathy, resisting the urge to throttle and then hex the woman across from him. "Hopefully she'll make a complete recovery with time," Severus added. "Care for a scone?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione slowly ambled through Diagon Alley, stopping at the produce shop, the bakery and the butcher before heading home.

Looking at a display case full of meat, Hermione thought about how much to buy. Since Ron wasn't home, nor did she know when he would come home, the grocery bill would be much smaller than usual. Normally a whole chicken would last for two dinners in the Weasley household, but with just Hermione, it could last for five or six dinners, especially if she bought a nice roaster.

"Just one chicken," she said to the butcher behind the counter at Abattoir and Haunchs.

Walking into her flat, Hermione noticed how Ron's smell was starting to fade from the place. Each additional day she spent in their flat alone made it seem like he might never come back. At first, the prospect of being alone had begun to frighten Hermione, but last night after analyzing the last few years, she realized that she was living a life in partial solitude already.

Between her long hours at work, Ron's evening job at the pub, and trips away with the Cannons, it wasn't like they spent all that much time together anyway, except for the weekends. It was just the absence of dirty dishes and laundry piling up, along with the lack of his facial hairs from his morning shave left all over the bathroom vanity counter that drove home the reality he wasn't there. Otherwise, it would have been hard to notice he was gone. There were the late night couplings and a warm body in the bed to wake up next to, but they seemed to be small consolations for the hassle of living with a man who was a better friend than lover or husband. The fights seemed to be happening more frequently, with less and less provocation each time. Granted, the last couple of fights she had instigated, but Ron had his fair share of bickering bouts he had initiated.

After shoving the chicken into the cooker to roast with a few sprigs of rosemary, Hermione went back to the parlor to sink into the couch and rest for a while before making the rest of her dinner.

The witch looked about her flat. "Could I do it?" she asked herself.

It was a question with multiple meanings. Could she afford to live here alone if Ron left her or she him, on her salary alone? Could she stand to live alone? Could she leave Ron? Could she divorce Ron?

Hermione had made multiple trips back to Flourish and Blotts reviewing the book on divorce carefully, making mental notes which she later wrote down once she got home.

Since she and Ron were married in a wedding, as opposed to a hand fasting trial marriage, which lasted only a year and a day unless children were conceived, it was still relatively simple to divorce in the wizarding world; much more simple than in the Muggle world.

A simple incantation done to the marriage certificate, a letter of intent to divorce sent to the Ministry for their records, the return of the wedding band, and the divorce was complete. It only required the desire of one of the party for the marriage to end, no doubt to protect witches who wished to leave abusive husbands or wizards to leave women who plundered their vaults or cheated on their husbands, or the vise versa of each scenario.

She wondered if she could really go through with it. If she did, would Harry and Ginny still speak to her? Would they understand? How would she explain it to her parents?

Her mother once said that marriage was a ninety-ten arrangement. You gave ninety percent of yourself and could only expect ten percent back. But what was implied was that both sides would give of themselves and not expect much in return. The accountant in Hermione's heart calculated that she gave almost one hundred percent and received close to nothing in return, and felt that Ron did not even put up even half of his share towards their relationship.

"It was so much easier when we were friends," Hermione sighed aloud to the empty room.

If or when Ron did come back, did she want him back? A small part of her mind said it was better to be alone for the right reasons than to be together with someone for the wrong reasons. Was she with Ron for the wrong reasons? When he first kissed her years ago, it seemed like the problem threat of spinsterhood, and the entire stigma attached to it, had evaporated. But did agreeing to marry Ron create more problems than dealing with the pitying looks all of her married friends would have given her, knowing that she was still alone with no one significant in her life?

Still, in some small way she missed him, or at least the knowledge that he would come home eventually and crawl into bed next to her.

Hermione pressed her palms together and rested her forehead against her thumbs. She could tell she was spiraling into another fit of depression, and if she didn't get her pathetic arse up off the couch and finish dinner, she'd be going two nights in a row without a proper evening meal.

After a simple dinner of chicken, a roll and a small salad, Hermione stood looking at the bed from the doorway to their room. Too tired to do any house cleaning to take her mind off of the fact Ron would probably not be coming home that night, but not tired enough to crawl into bed, only to spend hours tossing and turning, she grabbed her cloak and headed out the door.

She spent a few hours, until closing time, huddled on a stool in the back of Flourish and Blotts reading a Potions book that she had been lusting over the past few years. When the chime rang out announcing the store was closing, Mrs. Weasley rose and headed out into the night.

The thought of going back to an empty flat didn't quite appeal to her and she resisted the urge to swing by The Listing Broom to just take a quick peek at her husband. Instead she meandered down one of the side streets of Diagon Alley and found a pub called the Blue Raven.

Wandering in, she found the bar and ordered a glass of sherry to slowly nurse for a while before eventually wandering back home to grab a few hours of restless sleep. While sitting in a booth towards the back, she noticed a man sitting at the bar with a glass and a half-filled bottle of Firewhisky.

Half way through her sherry, she noticed the same man later was standing beside her table. A voice broke through her mental ramblings when he said, "Mind if I join you?"

Hermione gave him a half nod of acceptance of his company and motioned with her hand for him to sit down. Looking at him, she could tell he was at least ten years older than her with sandy blond hair and dark eyes, husky build and a heavy mustache.

They sat in silence for a while, both sipping at their drinks before the he spoke. "So, do you come here often?"

She gave him a weak smile, too tired to not wince at the weak pick up line or the idea that this man seemed interested in her. Shaking her head slightly, she said, "No, it's my first time here." Mrs. Weasley began spinning her wedding band around and round on her finger.

"Does your husband know you're here?" he asked.

Giving another shake of her head, she answered, "No, and I don't know where he is either. We had a fight and he's been gone a few days."

"Oh." The wizard sitting across from her paused before stating, "I guess you're not interested in coming back with me to my room at the Leaky Cauldron then."

Blinking at him in mild shock, Hermione never realized the rapidity in which some men picked up women. To say his proposition was blatant was putting it mildly, but she supposed that when people got older, their hang ups and the formality of getting to know someone before sleeping with them started to slacken with age and experience. Still, she knew a few women at Hogwarts who would meet a boy, and after a few hours of conversation in the library or in a deserted classroom, would shag and move on as if nothing happened. Somehow, Hermione knew even when she was older, she could never go to some stranger's room and shag. There had to be some emotional intimacy between her and the other person. The only two men she had ever shared that sort of closeness to were her husband and Harry. And for some reason, the sexual connection between her and Ron still seemed lacking.

Yet thinking back, she had willingly gone to meet with Calleo that first night after running into Lavender, but at least she knew she controlled the situation and that it would not be a sexual encounter, but one of emotional comfort.

"I'm flattered… really… but," she stammered, trying not to blush, "I'm still very married. Thank you, but… I can't." Downing the last few sips of her drink in one gulp she rose. "Good evening," she whispered before heading out the door.

Walking back home, Hermione reflected on what just happened. It was flattering that another man had wanted to sleep with her, but looking at him, he seemed lonely and most likely would have hit on her regardless of her looks.

'Wonder if Lavender has any witches working for her,' Hermione mused, imagining the blond witch introducing herself to the wizard, whose name she never got.

Once back inside her home, and noticing Pig had still not returned, she looked at the bed once more. A brief image of the wizard who propositioned her, hovering over her naked as he humped her on the bed flashed into her mind. Hermione shuddered at the thought, slightly repulsed at the vision her mind had produced. Disgusted and disturbed, she sought to replace the image with a much more pleasant one.

It wasn't that the wizard in the pub was unappealing, it was just there was a certain vibe of desperation and total lack of attraction that turned her off.

To fill her mind with the first pleasant thoughts in three days, she undressed and reclined on the bed. Images of Calleo lying next to her, slowly stroking her skin filled her mind as she touched herself. She let out small mewling whimpers thinking of his hands on her breasts, touching them gently instead of twisting them like wireless knobs, as Ron was prone to do.

Too exhausted to bother to finish masturbating, Hermione pulled up the covers and went to sleep, wondering if she could get used to sleeping all alone in a bed once more.
============

A/N: For those of you who are not familiar with the term, "The Scottish Play," it is supposedly very bad luck to say… Macbeth… in a theater. It is an old superstition with the acting crowd never to say the word in a theater, to do so invites tragedy and misfortune.
For those fans of the movie "Brazil," you should have noted my salute to the movie with "form 27b/6." If you've seen the film, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, we'll, you've missed out on one of the finest damn movies.
Cheval is the French word for "horse."

BN: This chapter is the woot. Get to reviewing so’s Betz will be happy and write well!!!
Siren
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After