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The Gilded Cage	By : ApollinaV Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 118789 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or anything recognizable to the HP-Universe, JK Rowling does. I’m not making any money off the writing of this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2 - Non Compos Mentis He had two choices. He could make an effort to get spiffed up, a polite gesture considering the occasion, or he could go as-is and risk offending his visitor. The simple decision was a veritable quandary to stew over, and considering he had all the time in the world to think on such obviously trivial things, he did. Severus did not entertain ‘guests.’ The thought alone was humorous, but didn’t change the fact that he would in three hours time meet with a mystery guest. So then he postulated; was this such a landmark occasion to merit the scrubbing of grime from his neck? He spent the morning carefully and methodically waiving the pros and cons of making up his appearance before settling on doing absolutely nothing. Not that he didn’t know that from the very beginning. No, whoever his visitor was, Severus was under no obligation to make him believe he was anything other than a caged animal. His appearance was of no importance, it never had been. Cleanliness; however, was always paramount. The thought that his students used to believe he was unhygienic brought a cruel smile to his chapped lips. How could he be anything other than a neat-freak when the simplest of cross contamination in his labs could spell disaster? He was always meticulously clean; Severus was just damned unattractive. Well, there was no point in attempting to change that now. At two o’clock several guards made their presence known by banging on the other doors down his dank corridor. Their comings and goings never surprised him, every last guard in the prison lumbered through the hallways with the grace and finesse of a mountain troll, and by the racket he imagined a horde of the ugly bastards were outside his door now. “Prisoner 11652 present yourself!” a voice barked. The youngest Mulciber boy by the sound of it. My how the mighty had fallen. Without bothering to hide his irritation at the obvious inconvenience Severus lifted himself from the cot and stood in the center of his cell, and held his arms out wide to show he wasn’t carrying anything. Not like a shiv was any match for a bloody wand. Once satisfied the door rippled and creaked as the maximum security wards were lifted. He huffed and tapped his foot showing his displeasure, but truth be told he was quite curious as to his first visitor in nearly five years could possibly be. In a great anticlimactic moment Miss Hermione Granger strode into his small kingdom with a similar scowl on her petulant mouth. His cell stank. He was well aware that it did. He did have a keen sense of smell afforded by his great honking nose after all, but there was no reason for her to be so damn rude about it. Her small nose wrinkled up in disgust and Severus was pleased he hadn’t made a single effort to get spiffed up for her. It was apparent she hadn’t bothered to get dressed for him either. The witch had always been a plain-Jane, but in dirty trainers, casual jeans, and a dumpy pullover she looked positively underwhelming. Her assessment of the wizard wasn’t much kinder. She expected he had lost weight, not that he was ever a heavy set man, but the gaunt sharp angles of his shoulders and face seemed hideously accented by malnourishment. Still, it was Snape alright. The eyes were the same, of that she was sure. Those black beady snake-eyes were unmistakable. Rationally her mind supplied his eyes were very dark brown. Black eyes were genetically impossible. He simply had a dominant ‘BB’ gene whereas her unremarkable brown eyes were the more common ‘bb’ variety. Pushing those random thoughts away, Hermione studied Snape. She shuddered to think how he might appear beneath his fraying grey woolen robes, especially with his inferi pallor. But most distressing was his obvious lack of care. Seeing Sirius Black not long after his stint in the infamous prison had given her something to expect. Now faced with her ex-professor with a long matted black beard and tangled hair that seemed to be in some stage of dredlocking itself, Hermione felt a definite stab of pity for the once proud wizard, but only a teensy-weensy stab. Mulciber stuck his head through the door, “We’ll be right here Miss, don’t hesitate to call for us if this brute tries anything.” He was so eager to be helpful the boy must have found Granger appealing, but then Azkaban was pretty damn remote and female visitors were practically unheard of. Trelawney would have been appealing to the boy. Not to Severus. Even deprived of comfort and company Granger was nothing to look at. She snorted and fingered her wand in a haphazard way, “Thanks, but I’ve got this.” For a lightening second Severus considered how fast he could disarm the witch, use her wand on the guards and make a hasty escape. It was possible. He'd have a bowtruckle's chance in a bonfire. Yet, if anyone could do it he certainly could, even if his skills had atrophied a bit. But then it would be risking his neck. After his masters had met their demise Severus was resolved to never risk his neck again. Or at least that was his story and he was sticking to it. “Professor Snape, I could say it’s a pleasure to see you, but…” she gestured airily around his domain with a contemptible look, “well, this isn’t a social call.” “It’s not? Pity. And I had so been looking forward to tea and biscuits.” The chit had the temerity to actually chortle at that. “Just what brings you here then Granger?” “A business proposition.” Severus’ eyebrows rose at that. Business? As far as he knew he had nothing to offer the witch, and certainly nothing to gain from her. He folded his arms across his chest in a display of authority he clearly didn’t possess, but it always helped to press one’s advantage, and currently the only advantage he had was that people still feared him. “Well let’s hear it then.” Hermione studied the dirty cell and leveled her wand at a wash rag, before Severus could register his protest she impressively transfigured it into a rather plush black leather armchair. Severus muttered ‘Show off,’ just loud enough for her to hear. For added measure she cast several thorough scourgifies on it. Smart girl. There was no telling what kinds of life had been growing on the rag. She sat and primly crossed her legs earning a contemptuous snort from her former potions Professor. He took a seat on his thin cot and leveled his eyes at the interloper. “If you don’t mind I’d like to skip the traditional small talk,” Severus nodded his assent and she continued, “I’d like to propose marriage.” For several seconds the silence was nearly audible until a loud click came from his clenched jaw. “Leave Miss Granger.” “Sir?” “You’ve had your fun at my expense. Go now!” Her brow furrowed. “I assure you Professor Snape this is no joke.” “The hell it’s not! Did Potter put you up to this, or perhaps those contemptible Weasley twins? Regardless, I find this neither funny nor amusing. Leave Miss Granger, go back to your friends at the pub, have a good laugh and never return.” She narrowed her eyes at him and silenced his voice with a quick flick of her wand. Damned woman, she probably only did so to drive home the point that she was armed and he wasn’t. Not like he bloody well didn’t know that already. “Do I look like I’m joking Sir? That I’d willingly come out to this wretched filthy place for a giggle? Please, give me a bit more credit than that. I’m quite serious.” She waived her wand once more lifting the silencing spell and Severus sat back contemplating the witch. Granger was prone to many strange flights of fancy. He mostly chalked it up to her muggle background. No civilized witch or wizard would ever champion the rights of house elves or have werewolves as bosom buddies. And while it was still possible she was having him on, it wasn’t likely she was going to leave anytime soon. “Then explain yourself.” With a loud longsuffering sigh Granger relaxed back into the armchair, a part of Severus ached to run his fingers up the curve of the arm rests and wiggle into the cushion. He only had his mattress as a seat and the stone wall wasn’t quite accommodating on his back. “The Ministry in its infinite wisdom has seen fit to pass a marriage law requiring all unwed witches to marry and start popping out babies as soon as possible.” For a moment he could only stare at the girl. Of course he had no way of knowing what she said were true. Occasionally he got scraps of old newsprint to use as bog paper, but never full articles and certainly not current events. Severus’s brain quickly ran through the ramifications of such a ridiculous law and came to many of the same conclusions that Hermione had. Even without the benefit of knowing more that what she had only just said, he was able to fill in the missing details; he was well accustomed to the Ministry’s modus operandi. No doubt they would put the unwilling witches on a short leash. All in all it was a bit of brilliance for her to come to him. Hermione watched as his thin pressed lips curled upwards and before her startled eyes Severus Snape smiled broadly showing off his snarled teeth and evidence of a lack of basic dental care. It was beyond scary. The man looked like a pirate. “Tsk! Tsk! Miss Granger, what have your parents to say about your proposition then? Tell me, are they more repulsed by their little girl lusting after her big bad ex-professor, or the prospect of having a convicted murderer in the family?” “Lusting? I assure you Mr. Snape I have never harbored any lust for you. Loathing perhaps, but certainly never lust. As for Monica and Wendell Wilkins… let’s just say they don’t exactly remember having a daughter, and everyone involved prefers it that way.” “Then I take it you are quite serious about this,” at her nodded affirmation Severus thoughtfully stroked his beard, “I assume there will be something for me out of this arrangement?” “Naturally.” “Then you’ll have to spell it out for me in detail before I could possibly give your request proper consideration.” Hermione nodded before pulling out a large roll of parchment from her satchel. “I’ve familiarized myself with the terms of your incarceration and cannot find any prohibition against marriage; actually I was able to find support of it in case law in Phillips v. the Ministry of Magic.” Severus rolled his eyes, not that she noticed; her bushy head was burrowed deep into the parchment before her. It would hardly have been a challenge to pluck her wand right then and there. “Once married you cannot be denied access to your wife for visitation.” “Conjugal visits?” he asked with a broad smirk clearly enjoying the way he threw her off balance. Sex? What the hell would give him the idea she’d be interested in having sex with him? Hermione didn’t bother hiding her hasty perusal of his body, or the shudder of revulsion. The imagery of his bony little hips hitting hers was downright frightening. She hadn’t been so squicked by the mere thought of sex since the time she caught Phineas and the Fat Lady in a compromising position. And chocolate pudding hadn’t seemed right for months after that. “Certainly not! As if I ever would Professor. If I were interested in that sort of relationship I would find someone much more suitable than yourself. Actually, I’ve come to you specifically because you are specifically prohibited from conjugal visits,” she replied rather more smugly than necessary. “That and your life sentence of course.” “Well seeing you’re not going to provide me with pussy I ask again, how does this benefit me Miss Granger? I’m not a man taken to acts of charity.” She snorted loudly, “Clearly!” Then composing herself again she pulled out a large tablet of parchment. Even at a distance Severus could make out it was rules governing his incarceration. “As your wife I could significantly improve your situation and give you comfort in other ways.” “Such as? I need an example Miss Granger if you intend on dangling this unattractive carrot in front of me.” Frowning she flicked her wand at him and huffed, “Scourgify.” Though it could be construed as an act of mercy given his condition, scourgify was quite an insult to any wizard. The spell was created for household spills and cleanups, and was generally considered to be too abrasive to use on the skin. For Severus it felt as if he had just been licked by a large dry kneazle tongue, it did however cut through the caked layer of grime. The scourgify was followed by an air deodorizing charm. It wouldn’t last long as the mattress emitted its own particular brand of foul air, the shallow sink often burbled up something quite noxious, and then there was of course the stench of the privy. His cell was indescribably wretched in the best of seasons and twice as putrid in summer. For the moment it was a welcomed reprieve. One would have thought Severus would have grown accustomed to the stink as one often does when surrounded by a constant barrage. He had not. His hand flew up to rake through the dense tangled mass of his beard, even his chin felt nominally clean. “As a member of the general public I must petition the Ministry to see you, as your wife I’ll have access to your person whenever I wish. Furthermore I’ll be able to bring you items, handle your affairs and correspondence, as well as bring you food. Now I don’t know exactly what you’re fed, but given the horrible state of your person I’d hazard to guess the diet does not agree with you.” Severus gave a short bark of laughter, but didn’t otherwise interrupt. “While I’m not going to make myself available to your every whim, I believe we can reach a suitable accord.” She pulled out a quill and rummaged again in her satchel before producing a marriage contract. It was simply good business practice to always assume the sale. Proffering the items to him Severus accepted the self-inking quill and contract, placed them on his bed and made a rather aristocratic dismissive waive of his hand. “Wait? You’re sending me away?” “Of course girl, did you really think I’d just agree to this insanity? I need to contact my solicitor. Come back in two weeks, and leave the other paperwork will you.” “Your solicitor?” she asked flabbergasted, “I assure you Professor Snape the contract is in order, I’ve thoroughly covered all the bases, please have a look at it.” “Oh yes, and I suppose I can trust you just because you’re some morally superior erstwhile Gryffindor? Miss Granger, you waltz in here, unbidden and unwelcome, spend all of five minutes spinning this tale, ignoring the fact that I have no proof of this Marriage Law and expect me to just sign this tripe?” Hermione sat as far back as she could to avoid flying spittle from his twisted mouth. “It occurs to me that you might not be the only witch in this predicament making me quite the marketable wizard. By the end of this week I might have stacks of marriage proposals to sort through. I’ll need at least two weeks to settle my affairs and list my demands.” “Demands?” “Did I stutter? Yes of course you silly girl. Now go and don’t darken my doorstep any longer. Two weeks,” he dismissed her like a house elf. Hermione didn’t need to be told twice and she practically threw her carefully done research at him. At the cell door she turned remembering his transfigured washcloth. He’d probably need it, but given the covetous way he stared at the chair she decided to leave it as something to remember her by. “Out!” she screamed. “Let me out of this damned place.” The cell door quickly swung open and just as quickly shut leaving Professor Snape with the most reading material he’d had in over a year. He smiled to himself, grabbed the quill she’d left behind and made his aching back quite comfortable in the armchair. All in all it was the best day he could remember in a long time. Now all he had to figure out was how to best milk the situation to his advantage.
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The Gilded Cage