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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
- 32
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"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"

Chapter Thirty-Three
“De Oppresso Liber" (To Liberate The Oppressed)

Disclaimer: So long as J.K. Rowling allows me to use her characters and concepts, I'll forgive her for writing what she wrote in HBP regarding Snape.

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

Severus groaned as he awoke Monday morning. He rolled over in his bed, desperately ignoring another plaguing erection.

At least he was doing far better than the previous morning.

Sunday morning he had awakened to muscles aching in places he didn't know he could strain. His cock was so sore from a marathon session of sex with Miss Anne the night before; just the slight pressure of an impending erection hurt. He had fucked himself raw. What was worse was that he was still sleeping in bedclothes spotted with various bodily fluids and Marf was gone, fulfilling his mandatory one-day off a month. Severus was left to change his own sheets that morning and fix his own breakfast, noting that on this morning, one of the few mornings he would have utilized the house-elf to his full potential, the creature was gone.

It was after having a snifter of brandy Saturday night that Severus had removed the charmed sliding cucumber from Miss Anne's arse and replaced it with his own cock (with the courgette still in her cunt), and fucked her until he knew she wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a few days. After his orgasm, his erection returned just as quickly as before, though it took longer to reach orgasm with each subsequent ejaculation. By the time the male stamina potion began to wear off three hours later, he had ejaculated no less than eight times, and the last couple of times it had felt like his balls were dry heaving. Near the end, Severus was filled with so much ennui towards Miss Anne, he did not bother to hide his yawns.

Marf had helped to dress the thoroughly exhausted Miss Anne and escort her out the door. Noting her bow-legged walk with some appeasement for his strenuous efforts, the gigolo collapsed into a deep sleep, ignoring the several wet spots on the bed.

Sunday, as he hobbled around his flat like an old man, he regretted having Marf buy the mangoes for chutney the day before at the farmers' market. The Potions master knew the fruit wouldn't last until next weekend when he would have the time and the energy to make the chutney and can it. There were stasis spells, but he preferred working with fresh fruit when canning. He barely finished canning the chutney and showering just before his Sunday night client arrived. Thankful that she rarely asked for a shag and was in no mood that night, Severus hoped he could get rid of his client quickly and collapse back into bed and get a good night's sleep.

As he dressed for work on Monday, Severus instructed the music box to play a selection of light classical music. He was amazed at the selection that Miss Brown had charmed into the box, including Mozart, Beethoven, the Beatles, and Jimi Hendrix. Most wizarding families, even the pure-blood ones, listened to music produced by what the community called Muggle-savants. These savants were Muggles with a talent that qualified them as partially magical, but unlike Muggle-born wizards they lacked any real powers, and were on par with Squibs in every other way.

In addition to music by the savants and the few musical groups the wizarding world produced and supported, Miss Brown had a large array of regular Muggle music as well. Severus had gone through most of the Big Band era and swing music, selecting songs appropriate for dancing that were not too quick for the lessons he had planned. The Muggle music of that era sounded very strange to him. Swing orchestras just didn't sound the same without the harpsichord and the psaltry that were usually part of the wizarding orchestras, but for the most part, it sounded very similar to the music he remembered his mother listening to on her own music box when he was a child.

Since he was running late, having slept in for some well-deserved rest, once he arrived at work he ordered one of the house-elves to fetch him some tea and breakfast. Just as breakfast appeared on a spare bit of empty desk, an owl alighted on the Potions master's windowsill.

Removing the burden from the owl's leg, Severus glanced at the handwriting and immediately recognized it as Albert Dobmeir's. Ignoring his hot breakfast of egg, sausages, grilled mushroom, porridge, a teetering stack of buttered toast, and a pot of blackberry preserves, Severus opened his colleague's letter, anxious to read Mr. Dobmeir's response to the letter he had sent off on Friday.

-------

Dear Sebastian,

It was so good to hear from you. Unfortunately, I am not doing as well as you had hoped in your letter to me. Since our last correspondence, my wife has passed away. It was rather sudden. I still consider myself lucky that we had eighty-seven wonderful years together.

However, with her passing, there has been some additional misfortune. Some rather unscrupulous cousins on her father's side of the family have come out of the woodwork and are contesting what should have been a rather plain and simple will. Meanwhile, until the will is settled, I have been ordered by an unscrupulous arbitrator to give room and board to these leeching marauders who have whittled down what fortune my wife and I had created together. They are eating me out of house and home while plundering my vault.

I was planning on doing private research of a medical nature, using my accumulated fortune to live off of for at least a decade before going back into commercial work, but those plans have been dashed and I've been forced to take on an apprentice, Mr. Trevor Spawn. I took on this apprentice only when enough money had been shoved towards me that I could not refuse, considering my circumstances. It pains me to learn after the fact that Mr. Spawn's Potions N.E.W.T. scores are far less than I was promised by the boy's father. However, the only way out of this contract is to return all the money, and I am in no financial situation to do that. Therefore, I must hold true to my contractual promise and take the boy on.

If you are aware of any opportunities that may allow me to be released from this situation, that pay well, please keep me in mind and pass along my name.

Sincerest regards,

Albert Dobmeir
Potions Master, E.T.F.C.

-------

Severus frowned. He was sincerely sad to hear about Albert's wife. From the few times he had met Mrs. Dobmeir, when he still taught at Hogwarts, she was a rather gracious woman of good wit and intelligence. Of all the Potion masters and mistresses out there who still had any creative spark, Albert Dobmeir was one of the few. Knowing now that the man was in such dire straits, Severus immediately put his colleague at the top of a short list of possible candidates to replace him when he left. At least when he left the country, he could be sure Miss Brown was in good hands with a Potions master of equal or better caliber to himself.

After nibbling on some toast, while contemplating a reply, an idea came to him. If Albert were to start working for Miss Brown once Severus had departed her employment and England, then there would be no need to encourage Hermione to stay in her mindless and lackluster job at the Department of Standards & Regulations.

Pulling out a fresh sheaf of parchment, Severus began writing his reply in the careful angular script he used to hide his signature spidery scrawl.

-------

Dear Albert,

My deepest sympathies regarding the loss of your wife. From your correspondences with me over the past few years, she seemed to be quite a lovely lady by your description.

In regards to your current situation, I may be of some assistance to you. I have some plans in the works in which I may be traveling abroad for an indefinite period of time, perhaps permanently. If all goes according to schedule, I will be leaving the employment of Miss Lavender Brown, president and founder of The Lovely Lavender Company, by the New Year. She will be in need of a new Potions master. Miss Brown has already started asking about recommendations for my replacement when I leave. I could think of no better hands I could leave her in than yours.

Coincidentally enough, I have an acquaintance who is friends with Mr. Spawn's co-worker, Mrs. Hermione Weasley, née Granger. He has remarked upon her knowledge of Potions and her academic aptitude. My acquaintance has also mentioned in passing Mrs. Weasley's desire to become a Potions mistress. If you are not adverse to having an extremely talented and intelligent apprentice instead of Mr. Spawn, I'm sure I could negotiate on your behalf an up front fee from Miss Brown to relieve you of your contractual obligation to instruct the boy.

-------

Severus paused to consider how to make it clear that he would recommend Albert on the basis that he take Hermione on as an apprentice, but without making it sound quite like extortion and more like an incentive to take her under his academic wing.

He set the first draft of the letter aside to mull over the wording, hoping the elder Potions master would jump at the chance. The only thing he needed to make sure this deal would go into motion was to reveal himself to Hermione, and to have her agree to help him and Draco escape. Before, he only had her noble sense of right and wrong, and a stubborn streak of sticking up for the down-trodden to rely upon. Now he had the promise of a Potions apprenticeship if she helped him.

There was a moment when he wondered if he would do this for Hermione if she wasn't of future use to him and he was doing this out of the kindness of his heart, or if this was a maneuver based on pure Slytherin tactics. Scoffing at the idea that the word “kindness” could be applied where his heart was concerned, he still couldn't shake the notion that he might have wanted Hermione to move onto better things regardless. He remembered all too well what it was like to be denied what should have been rightfully his with the Dark Arts position and his freedom.

This letter would need to be crafted carefully, and he did his best thinking when he set the subject aside and allowed it to mull over in the back of his mind for a while. Tucking into the rest of his breakfast, the idea of a happy Hermione – gone from under the thumb of her shrew of a boss, and from the mundane monotony of her current job – appeared more appealing by the minute, making him unconsciously smile to himself.

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

Glancing at the reference book, Severus jotted down a few notes. He scrapped the original formula he was thinking of for the edible body paint that used moonstone to reflect moods. During his conversation with Hermione last Thursday, she had brought up some very good points. One of which was that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have the body paint reflect moods, but rather change color with body heat.

Hermione mentioned that some women may not feel the same sort of passion or love towards their partner that their lover might expect. If a woman was sleeping with a man she felt indifferent or resentful towards, the body paint would reflect that and actually backfire in terms of enhancing the mood between two lovers. Instead, to have the edible body paint change colors with body heat would leave much to open interpretation.

Severus agreed that it was an aspect he had not considered, silently thankful that Hermione brought up such a valid point before he invested too much of his time and resources towards a dead end. But before he presented his employer with a new direction in which to direct their research, he wanted to make sure that the ingredients he had in mind could be applied topically, and be both edible and palatable.

Once he felt he had collected enough information, the Potions master strode into Miss Brown's office to discuss the new variation of the body paint, and give her an account of the effectiveness of the three-day version of the male enhancement potion.

Knocking on Lavender's door, he barely waited for her reply to enter before he swept into the room, feeling quite pleased with his progress over the course of the morning.

“Ah, Severus. I was just about to come and visit your office, but I figured I'd best leave you to your work,” the blond witch said with a bright smile. “Tell me how the two-day potion worked versus the three-day.”

“I have good news and bad news,” Severus began. Miss Brown looked hesitant about the impending report. “The good news is that the three-day potion is too potent; however, the two-day potion is not effective enough. I recommend we brew several different batches starting at fifty hours of brewing, and increasing each batch's simmering time by four hours until we reach seventy hours. Somewhere between forty-eight and seventy-two hours is the right amount of simmering time. However, if we do want to have a weaker version for those who just want that extra little... energy, then a forty-eight hour simmer time would be fine. But since we have discussed the sort of effectiveness we should be striving for, we will need to brew for at least fifty hours.”

Miss Brown looked a little disappointed, but shrugged her shoulders after a moment. “Oh, well, if that's what it takes, then I guess we must accept it. I'll be heading over to the Muggle Alliance today just before lunch, to see if there are any contacts in the brewery business who can connect us with a manufacturer of those large kettles you described.” Leaning forward, resting her arms on her desk, she asked somberly, “Before I go and invest a good deal of money into this, are you sure that this potion can simmer in such large vessels? Some potions cannot be doubled or tripled without affecting the results.”

“I assure you, Miss Brown, it will not be a problem.” Severus sat back in his chair and thought this would be the best time to bring up some other matters regarding sex potions. “If this potion sells, what sort of profits are we looking at?”

“Well, considering initial financial projections, once we have amortized the cost of the new kettles and estimated sales within the first year, I could safely say that we're looking at a fifty percent net profit,” Lavender said, looking rather pleased. “It's all due to your idea about the kettles. If it wasn't for that, the net profit would run around five percent. And with the seasonal price fluctuation in ingredients, it would have been pointless to manufacture.”

Severus nodded his head at the news, certain this would be the best time to make a simple demand. “Well, since the net profit ratio will be so high, I don't think it would be out of order to give Mrs. Weasley a five percent royalty cut on that potion then.”

“What?”

“You heard me. It was Mrs. Weasley who came up with the idea of the kettles, as she explained to me how Muggles make beer. I asked her in the vaguest terms about how to get around a logistical problem of simmering lots of potion from small cauldrons, while needing to free up the cauldrons for other potions,” the Potions master explained calmly.

“Her idea?” she said skeptically.

“Yes, and since I'm not about to relinquish any part of my forty percent royalty, and you have kindly informed me that the net profits will be so high, I'm sure you can part with a meager five percent on your end. What is better?” he asked rhetorically. “Fifty-five percent of a small fortune, or sixty percent of nothing?”

Lavender looked rather uneasy before she sat back in her chair, petulantly folding her arms across her chest. “So you're consulting with Hermione now?”

“Jealous of her?” Severus questioned with a smug cock of his brow.

Lavender glared at her employee before taking on the cool air of indifference. “So, is this one way you are dropping hints about your identity? Thinly veiled references to Potion making? Tell me, Severus, are you still wearing the head scarf and the full-face mask, or are you down to nothing but a tiny half-mask?”

Severus knew what Miss Brown was doing. She was trying to raise his ire and deflect from the question, making him unsettled so he would no longer remember to press her on giving Hermione a rightful cut to the profits. Why his employer seemed reluctant to give a witch living on the verge of poverty a small royalty fee puzzled him.

“Why are you so hesitant to give her what is due for her input?” he asked.

“She is not an employee of this company!” Lavender retorted.

“And if she were?”

“Then that would be a different matter,” the witch answered with a clipped tone. “But you are not about to ask me to hire her on when you need her to continue working at the Department of S & R for your necessary ingredients.” There seemed to be a small spark of boastful glee in her eye; she had won the discussion.

Severus knew that he had the upper hand in this situation. “That is true, but once I am gone, her employment at the Ministry will no longer be required. As a matter of fact, I think it is in your best interest to hire Mrs. Weasley once I have left.”

“And why is that?” Lavender wearily asked, recognizing the malicious glint Severus had in his eye. She knew that there must be something more for him to hold over her head than just a request.

“Several reasons.” He whipped out a small scroll in which his initial notes on the edible body paint were scribbled on. “Here are the beginning notes on the edible body paint you are so eager to develop. Hermione has brought to my attention during our lengthy discussions that a body paint to reflect moods might not be such a good idea, considering some women loathe the men they sleep with.” Severus was pleased when Miss Brown's face fell with the knowledge that that particular little fact that had escaped her attention. “In addition, since you have entered the sex potions market based solely on the drop in the price in Ashwinder eggs, you owe Hermione something on that basis alone. It is from her hard and thorough work at the Ministry that prices have dropped, due to a new testing method she has created and implemented during her tenure at the department. And though the new method is not sanctioned or approved by the Ministry, I'm sure with all your powerful connections, you can rectify that and have it made policy to test Ashwinder eggs using Hermione's new and improved method in order to keep the price down.”

Severus had to suppress a smirk at the way Miss Brown's face slowly morphed into one of shock and wonder as he delivered his ultimatum.

“And lastly, I believe I have a candidate to replace me who would be keenly interested in working for you,” Severus announced with a smile, noting how Lavender leaned forward in her chair slightly, eager to hear who he would name. “He is one of the few Potions masters that I could say is as good or better than I in this subtle art. However, I will only send my letter about your need for a new Potions master on the condition that you allow him to have Hermione as his apprentice while he works here... and that she is to receive a salary.”

He couldn't be more pleased with the way he delivered his news to the witch. Miss Brown sat there dumbstruck, unable to blink or respond, merely sitting there with her mouth agape. It was a moment before her mouth snapped shut and the blond witch regained her composure.

“And what if she doesn't want to be someone's apprentice and work for me?” Lavender asked, still sounding a little flustered.

“And why wouldn't she want to work in a situation in which she could become a Potions mistress, rising to the potential denied to her by the conspiracy of others? Are you aware of Calpurnia Fudge's underhanded manipulations of Hermione's career? That that woman has single-handedly been responsible for Hermione being denied an apprenticeship with almost all the Transfiguration, Charms and Potions masters and mistresses in Europe? Just as I have been unjustly denied my rightful place in the world as a Potions master under my own name due to that machinations of a few people, I will not allow Hermione to be denied the ability to reach her true potential based on the grudge of some vindictive witch who has poor taste in friends.”

Lavender's cheeks colored in embarrassment and turned her head away, unable to look at Severus. “Yes, I was aware of Calpurnia's grudge against Hermione. But I knew there was nothing I could do about it either. Besides, you needed her to stay in her job; therefore I did nothing about Hermione’s situation in order to help you.”

“Then you can agree to help Hermione once I am gone by allowing my recommended candidate to take her on as an apprentice, and paying her a salary that exceeds whatever pittance they pay her at the Ministry,” he demanded with imperial authority.

“And if she refuses to accept such an arrangement? I cannot force her to become someone's apprentice or work for me,” Lavender pointed out.

“Then she has the right to refuse, though I doubt she will.” Severus' eyes narrowed slightly as he continued. “Why are you so reluctant to hire Mrs. Weasley?”

“You keep dropping hints about your work in Potions. I've thought on the matter and have since realized that perhaps Hermione will be angry, once she realized I set her up to spill her heart out to you, her old professor,” she explained. “If she feels I have made a fool of her, then she could make life unpleasant with a few owls to the right people. Your consulting work could be exposed to the Ministry.”

Severus hadn't thought of it that way, but doubted Hermione would storm off and condemn him when he had been nothing if not a patient friend to her. Still, this deception was getting rather convoluted, exacerbated by the fact he still had not revealed himself to her. The half-lies, or rather concealed truths, he had spun to Hermione during their evenings together were getting to the point where he had to be very careful. At some point, she would no doubt confront him and ask why she should believe anyone who has so consistently lied to her. It was the fact that he had never outright lied to her, but downplayed certain facts that would have revealed himself to her. Still, a witch angered and felt to be made a fool of was a dangerous person indeed. He had a number of clients over the years that came to him in a moment of spite out of revenge against a lover or husband. He could only imagine what Hermione would do if she felt betrayed.

He had never meant to deceive her, but rather to slowly allow herself to trust him. Hoping that the friendship that he and Hermione wove during their evenings together would temper her and guide her to this fact, he prayed she would not abandon him when he needed her the most.

“She would not do that.” Severus hoped he understood Hermione's noble nature enough to be guessing correctly.

Lavender called for Wonkle to bring some tea, exclaiming that some was desperately needed.

“You still haven't answered my question regarding a five percent royalty from the male enhancement potion going to Mrs. Weasley,” Severus prompted her to respond to his unanswered question.

“And how will I explain why I am giving her a big pile of money?” she asked plainly.

“When she learns my identity, she will of course put all the facts together and realize that I consult for you. She is a bright witch. You can just hold onto those royalties until I have revealed myself,” Severus instructed her.

“And just when do you plan on revealing yourself?”

Again with the question of, “When, when, when?” The raven-haired wizard didn't know. He knew he should have a planned timetable, but the reality was he didn't want to know. Perhaps the opportunity would present itself and he would pull his mask off some night; or somehow, someway, his mask would slip; or Hermione would put all the pieces together and know it was Severus Snape that she was dining or dancing with. It was most unlike him to be so unprepared and not have a fully formed strategy in place, but the more he saw of Hermione, the less he wanted his time to be crowded with ulterior agendas. Why does the scent of a rose captivate? To analyze and dissect the reasons took away the mystery and elusive charm of nature. Sure, there was a reason for his meetings with Hermione, but why ruin those evenings dwelling on her purposefulness to his escape while she was there?

“In time.” Severus saw Wonkle bring in the tea trolley, and felt no desire to stay and have tea with his boss. “So will you give her the five percent she is due?”

“Yes, all right,” Lavender reluctantly agreed.

Severus rose without excusing himself, and headed back to his office to begin redrafting his letter to Albert.

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

Hermione glanced at the ticking clock. For most of the morning, despite her weariness of rising early at three, Hermione's feet moved in rhythm to the clock. Mentally going over the foxtrot, burning the physical memory of the motion into her muscles, she shuffled her feet a few millimeters at a time.

When she found her energy lagging and exhaustion setting in, Hermione remembered her dream and thought of Calleo holding her in his arms as they danced. Her energy and mind would spike with a fresh wave of enthusiasm that kept her going through the morning.

Just as she was about to stop for lunch, Harry appeared at the door. “Care to join me for lunch today?” he asked brightly, looking more like the boy she remembered than the somber man he had been as of late.

Hermione drew breath and was about to decline, but came upon the realization that if she was going to stay late at work, she wouldn't have much time to eat dinner at home. If she ate just before going to Calleo's, she might get a cramp in her side during her dance lessons, so she decided to eat her bagged lunch for dinner instead.

“I'd love to, Harry.” She accepted Harry's offer, thankful to find some reason to get out of the lab.

As they walked to lunch, Hermione mentioned she'd have to make lunch a quick one, since there was a lot of work to do. She regretted having to cut short her time with Harry, but if she was going to make her nine o'clock appointment with Calleo, Hermione knew she would have to leave work no later than eight in order to swing by home, clean up, and make it to the Red Ginseng.

Lunch was at a little Muggle fish and chips shop near the Ministry of Magic's Muggle phone booth entrance. Over a shared basket of chips and two large orders of battered and deep fried cod wrapped up in newspaper, Harry told Hermione about Ginny's work getting the house ready for the party on Friday, and his wife's thanks for Flooing over some books that morning. Though Harry's birthday was on Thursday, they decided to have the party on Friday so family and friends could sleep over in the tipis in the garden.

She and Harry parted ways in the atrium, the Auror ascending the staircase while Hermione descended towards the basement. Hermione was rather pleased with herself that she was able to get back to work in less than a half an hour. Her little bout of pride for her punctuality was dashed by the sight of Madam Dushka standing outside the door of her lab and impatiently tapping her foot.

“Where have you been?” Hermione's superior snipped at her with agitation.

“I was at lunch. I was gone for less than half an hour,” Hermione replied defensively, her back going rigid and straight.

“Well, that doesn't matter! We just got an urgent owl from St. Mungo's. It seems there's been a major breakout of Swamp Troll Flu. The Potions lab there has already run out of their supply of walking irises and shrinking violets, and they need more. I know we just got a shipment of both in this morning. Have you tested them yet?” the short, dark-haired witch asked frantically.

“No, I was planning on testing them tomorrow, but I can do that now,” Hermione answered, pulling out her wand to unward the door to the lab.

“Have Trevor help you. Four hands are better than two,” Madam Dushka said.

Hermione did her best not to physically flinch at the suggestion. “Yes, ma'am. That is, if he's back from lunch yet,” she added hoping to redirect some of her boss' attitude on her slothful co-worker.

“Oh, well,” Madam Dushka said dismissively. “You'll just have to do it by yourself until he gets back.”

Unsure whether to be relieved that Mr. Spawn was not there to ruin the rushed testing of the urgently needed ingredients, or furious over the fact her superior was so forgiving of Mr. Spawn's indolent behavior, Hermione merely nodded in reply. This kept her mouth from spewing a sharp retort about Madam Dushka's obvious double standards.

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

Knocking on the door, Severus finally let out his breath when Draco answered. The ex-Death Eater hated going back to his block of flats during the middle of the day, but Ginny and Draco had arranged to have lunch at the younger wizard's flat. Severus had accepted their invitation with no small amount of grumbling about the time of day.

Once inside, he tipped back the hood of this cloak and removed the outer garment.

“Hello, Severus. You're just in time. Dheef was just about to serve us lunch,” Ginny informed her friend.

A table set up in the middle of Draco's flat was graced with a small vase filled with a few stems of alstroemeria and celandine. Severus wasn't sure if the flowers on the table were selected because of their symbolic meaning, or if it was just by chance. An arrangement noting devotion, friendship, and joys to come seemed a bit coincidental to him. It seemed to intone hope. Maybe Draco was feeling hopeful, or perhaps Dheef just picked a few flowers to make the table look presentable for his master and guests.

Severus exchanged a brief hug with Ginny before Draco helped her with her seat. Both wizards waited until she was seated before taking their places.

Before the older wizard had time to unfold his linen napkin and place it across his lap, Ginny asked, “So, what is this I hear about dancing lessons with Hermione?”

His hand halted its movement before it finished laying the square of cloth. After pondering what Draco may or may not have told Ginny, Severus merely replied, “She is preparing herself for her anniversary dinner with your brother. Evidently, there is to be dancing where he is taking her. Hermione wished to know how to dance, so that she may be able to enjoy her evening with her husband.”

It was a polite and correct answer, but it came out sounding a bit short and petulant.

“Why did you not make mention of this at our last meeting?” Ginny asked in a very calm voice that was devoid of any accusations or impatience.

“Perhaps for the same reasons that you never mentioned why you said Hermione sounded just like me during her rant about her co-worker when you both went out to lunch last week,” Severus replied with the same calm that Ginny had shown, but with a hint of recrimination.

Ginny rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. “Well, honestly, Severus. The way she was going on, if I didn't know any better, I would have thought it was you on Polyjuice Potion.” Severus just glared at her. “I'm sorry for not making mention of it. It slipped my mind, as it didn't seem that important,” Ginny admitted contritely.

“Well, it seemed important enough to her that she made mention of it last Thursday,” Severus noted.

“And yet you made no mention of dance lessons because it slipped your mind?” the witch asked once more.

“You know now. What difference does it make between knowing last week and knowing now?” the raven-haired wizard bit out defensively, feeling as if he stood accused of something the pair would not dare name.

“None,” Ginny conceded.

Everyone began eating lunch in silence, the tension of unspoken words and restrained thoughts choking the air.

Half-way through his rosemary chicken breast, Severus set down his fork and knife, unnerved by the silence. “Since we are so keen on knowing everything Hermione does at my flat, I suppose I should inform you she is coming tonight for additional dance lessons,” the older wizard informed them sharply. Ginny and Draco looked at Severus and then to one another in surprise before Severus added, “She does not feel that three more visits would be enough to be adequately prepared for dancing in a public venue.”

Draco finally spoke. “Will dinner and conversation be included?”

“No. She has too many demands on her at work, and since Hermione is starting counseling sessions with her husband this week, she'll be coming late.” Severus thought that maybe it was best that perhaps Draco did know Hermione was coming and would be about the corridors on Monday nights, to prevent any accidental crossing of paths. To have Hermione run into Draco while she was coming or going could prove to be most disastrous.

There was another long pause while everyone finished their entrées and salads.

As Ginny picked at her roll, she regarded Severus keenly. After clearing her throat, she asked, “Severus, what do you feel for Hermione?”

His hand momentarily clenched around his glass of water. Thankful that he did not have his full hand strength, as it would have shattered otherwise, he relaxed his grip and lifted his eyes to regard his luncheon companions. Draco was reclining back in his chair looking impassive as ever, while Ginny wore a look of gentle concerned worry on her face.

“My feelings, if I have any, are not a matter for discussion,” he addressed them curtly.

“Severus,” the redheaded witch began delicately, “we'll be leaving the country. What happens to Hermione once we leave? If you get attached to her, she will most definitely get attached to you as well. She's not coming with us. Hermione has a husband and a life here. This is where her family is, both hers and mine.”

“I never said I wanted her to come with us, nor have I even considered it,” Severus snapped, his eyes flashing with hot indignation. The thought had never occurred to him that he should have Hermione join him in his exodus, but now that the idea had been presented, he didn't see much reason why he should not have the choice to present it to Hermione if he chose to do so. “But if I did, what would be so terrible about giving her the option? What does she have to look forward to if she were to stay? A life shackled to your brother who ignores and insults her, leaving her frustrated, resentful, and lonely? A job that will never allow her to fulfill her true potential, suffering at the whims of Calpurnia Fudge?”

Severus made no mention of the possible apprenticeship he might be able to offer Hermione, but it still remained just a thought and a plan. If it came right down to it, he could give Hermione an apprenticeship if she joined him abroad.

“Hermione is married to Ron and wants to make it work!” Ginny countered vehemently.

“Oh, yes,” Severus derisively drawled with a sneer. “And she came to me in order to save her marriage from the intellectual boredom Ronald Weasley inflicts on her. He hasn't touched her since he returned from his week away. And just where was your brother housed during his week away from his wife?”

“A friend's,” she replied.

“Ha!” Draco barked sardonically. “Ginny, let's face it. Any man who returns to his wife after being a week away and does not touch her must be getting sex from another source,” he enlightened his lover.

“You really think Ron could be cheating on Hermione?” Ginny asked, stunned that her brother would betray his friend and wife.

“If he's not, then I'd say he either greatly needs the new male enhancement potion I'm working on,” Severus said dryly, “or those calluses on his hands are not just from Quidditch practice. However, after hearing from many of my clients and all the signs of their own husbands' infidelities, I'd bet my impending freedom on it.”

Ginny sat there, astounded by Draco and Severus' analysis of Ron. “You really think so?” she asked meekly, looking shattered at this revelation

Studying Ginny, Severus felt a small amount of pity for her. Her familial love had blinded her to her brother's obvious faults, and now the illusion of trust and respect she had for her brother was destroyed by the overwhelming facts. He didn't exactly envy Ginny's family, as Molly was a bit overbearing. Still, the support they had shown one another made him wish on a few occasions that he’d had some of that when growing up, instead of fending for himself, alone against his father.

“Ginny, what would be so terrible to allow Hermione this one small joy, even though she will stay?” the older man asked. “How is it that you can sit here, in love with another man, married to a man you never loved and yet pass judgment on a woman who seeks some small amount of companionship with me? Is it the idea that Hermione could be unfaithful to your brother that upsets you, or is it just the fact that it's me that makes you oppose what Hermione could feel for me?”

Ducking her head down, Ginny buried her face in her napkin. Draco moved his hand over her back in small circles for comfort. After a few heaves of her shoulders, she lifted her tear-streaked face to Severus. “I don't have a problem with the idea that it's you, Severus. Never that. It's just that I always hoped Hermione had the marriage I never had. I wanted Draco and was denied, forced into a marriage with someone I didn't want. I always thought Hermione had the ideal marriage I was robbed of. Now in the past few weeks, I discover just how miserable she has been, she has started seeing you, and now Ron is cheating on her? I'm just a bit... stunned.”

“Living your life vicariously through others is no way to live, Ginny,” Draco said, still rubbing her back.

“I know,” she said between sniffles. Looking at Severus once more, the redhead asked, “Do you love her?”

Severus had never dared to think what he felt for Hermione could be love. He had never been in love. He had no basis for comparison, no previous reference in his mind to recall and guide him. He answered her question with what he allowed his mind to conceive was what he was capable of. “There is a friendship. I can make no assumptions if there is anything more.”

Ginny smiled, her face brightening despite the red splotches on her face and errant tears. “Hermione needs more friends, especially now.” Rising from her seat, she walked towards the loo to freshen up her face. As she passed by Severus, Ginny stopped and leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss upon the forehead. She murmured, “Thank you,” against his skin before continuing on her way towards the bathroom.

Severus didn't know what to make of Ginny's gesture. It felt tender to have her bestow such an affectionate token upon him, though he would be reluctant to ever seek such a gesture. In some odd way, it felt as if he had her blessing to allow something more to blossom between himself and Hermione. He didn't need permission, but Ginny's small kiss reassured him in ways he could not name.

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

Severus was wrapping up his Monday at the office, still feeling a little tired from his Saturday night with Miss Anne. He planned on going home and getting in a short nap to rejuvenate himself before Hermione showed up. Shuffling around a few scrolls, he heard a rap on his door.

“Enter.”

Miss Brown, looking a little ashen, entered and sat herself down.

Regarding the witch, Severus patiently waited for her to speak.

“I've done as I've promised. In my office you will find a Pensieve on my desk. It has all the answers to your questions about how and when I learned you were a Death Eater and spy,” she informed him, looking drawn and tired. Lavender rose from her seat, using her arms to push herself up.

Severus considered lending Miss Brown an arm for support to guide her to where she wished to go, but the last time he had showed her any kindness, she had bitten his head off.

“When you are done with it, just leave it. I'll retrieve it in the morning. Goodnight, Severus.” Her voice sounded hollow and lifeless.

Severus watched her go and stood there for several minutes. He then walked to the empty office and the stone bowl that sat on Miss Brown's desk, beckoning him to view its contents. Hesitating, he peered over the bowl and wondered what he might witness.

Touching his face to the swirling ephemeral substance, the Potions master felt himself pulled into the memory.

============
A/N: Evil cliffie? Sure, why not. Haven't given you one of those for a while.
If you cannot deal with the topic of non-consensual sex, then skip chapter 34 and go straight to chapter 35. Nothing in chapter 34 is graphically depicted, but there is enough heavily implied to make the reading unpleasant for anyone who does not care to read strong hints about non-consensual sex. There is a very brief recap of chapter 34 at the beginning of chapter 35 for those who wish to skip the unpleasant parts.
A Muggle-savant is the wizarding community’s equivalent of an idiot savant. You may ask why Jimi Hendrix qualifies as a Muggle-savant? Because legend has it that he could take an out-of-tune guitar and, without tuning it, play it in-tune. That's genius, the Mozart of guitars.
Potions Master, E.T.F.C.: That stands for “Extremely Talented, First Class”. It is my marking of a Potions master of the first order in my fic.
B/n: Give Betz props y’all. She’s an awesome writer and has given me time to gather my life and thoughts into some understandable muck. For that I give her much thanks and snaps. And she writes when she has a husband and two kids who need her. Damn, but she’s good. ~
Siren
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After