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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7 - Esto Perpetua It’s said that all little girls picture their wedding day; they imagine big fairy-tale princess dresses, bouquets of flowers, and dancing with their perfect handsome groom. Hermione must have missed that memo. Truth be told, she spent her early childhood up a tree, skinning her knees on roller-skates, and teaching her teddy bear Pud the rudiments of phonetics from a child sized blackboard. Pud was a very well educated bear. When the magic moment to prepare for her own wedding arrived, Hermione was at a bit of a loss. Not that she felt sorry for herself, or felt she was missing out on some sugary hearts and flowers moment. (Highly undesirable marriage proposals were still coming by way of owl.) More like she didn’t exactly know how to best deal with what was traditionally supposed to be a romantic moment that was anything but. And honestly she had two meetings, a conference call, and a sick half-kneazle to deal with on the day of her wedding. Hermione furiously tapped her foot while surveying the contents of her wardrobe. She was already running late and to phrase it lightly ‘hadn’t a damned thing to wear.’ Already several dresses were discarded around the floor. When in doubt Hermione stuck with a basic black dress, it was always the safe choice. And yet that seemed unnecessarily insulting for both herself and her groom. Not that she was dressing for him… no not at all; this was about civility and decorum. Probably. It was mid September, the leaves hadn’t gone brown and crispy yet, meaning autumnal colors were perfectly acceptable. That, and according to Witch Weekly they were the shades that looked the best on her. This should have narrowed her selection down, and yet, it didn’t somehow. Hermione glanced at her bedside clock before swearing loudly. If she tarried any longer she’d miss getting through prison security on time. If only staff meeting hadn’t run so long, but then staff meetings always ran long. Hermione didn’t have time to think about this. She waived her wand over the small blue blotch from a potions spill on the camel wool work robes she was already wearing to get rid of it, threw on her cloak, made another attempt to give Crooks his pill knowing full well it was futile, picked up Snape’s ‘care packages,’ and disapparated. When she got through prison security, which took altogether much too long, they finally led her back into the same chamber where her marriage contract had been signed. This time someone had the foresight to move the table and chairs against the wall. Several minutes later she was joined by the warden, a pale weedy man named Blotts, (of no relation to Blotts as in Flourish and Blotts) and a thoroughly unremarkable Ministry appointed officiator who looked curiously pleased by the proceedings. Hermione didn’t bother with small talk, but waited for her groom to appear and tried not to tap her foot impatiently. He was late. Twenty minutes past the appointed time Severus Snape was brought in at wand-point to the room. She scowled taking in his appearance, honestly would it have been too much trouble to wash? It’s not like he had anything better to do all day. Not bothering to hide her disdain, Hermione flicked her wand at him sending another scourgify on his person. Severus was not amused. “You’re late.” He shrugged, time was a relative constraint. “No clock Miss Granger.” “Snape, no doubt to both of our relief, it’s been years since I was your student. You can drop the ‘Miss Granger-act’ any day now.” Hermione turned to the Ministry stooge, “Can we get this going? I’d like to get out of here.” “Yes please hurry it up; my little Vixen can’t wait to get me into my cell.” Before Severus had the opportunity to relish the effect his comment had on his bride, Hermione had her wand leveled squarely between his eyes. “Snape,” she hissed, “I have no objections to becoming a widow, not when the Ministry is willing to grant me a year’s grieving time as incentive.” “Now Hermione,” he said in a rumbling seductive purr, “that’s enough foreplay; we’ll have time to rip into each other later.” Ignoring her wand completely Severus turned his attentions to the Ministry official who clearly enjoyed every minute of their banter. He coughed a few times, ostensibly to clear his throat and began, “Dearly beloved,” Hermione and Snape both rolled their eyes. “We are gathered here to witness the marriage of Severus Theodore Snape and Hermione Jean Granger. If anyone here has any objections to their union please speak now.” He paused with a lifted eyebrow waiting it seemed for someone to come to their senses before shaking his head and ploughing on. “And do you have the rings?” Hermione pulled a plain unadorned gold band from her pocket and tossed it to him. Really she could care less if the wizard ever bothered to wear it or not, but dutifully placed her own ring on her finger. There was no way she’d actually let him share the supposed romantic moment of exchanging rings. The whole wedding was too much a farce to desecrate how she actually felt about the sanctity of marriage. “Will you Severus Theodore Snape pledge your steadfast and abiding love to Hermione, uphold the terms of your matrimonial contract, and support the Ministry approved guidelines governing the sacred and holy bond of marriage?” “I will.” “Will you Hermione Jean Granger pledge your steadfast and abiding love to Severus, uphold the terms of your matrimonial contract, and support the Ministry approved guidelines governing the sacred and holy bond of marriage?” “I will.” “Then by the power invested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” “That’s really not necessary...” Hermione intended on saying more, but was summarily cut off. She found herself pulled quite forcefully into a hungry kiss by a man who stank, tasted badly, and felt dirty against her, but kissed quite heavenly. It only took Hermione a second to recover before pushing him hastily away. Not caring how unladylike it was, she made a rather large display of spitting. “That was completely uncalled for. I told you I would never ever touch you!” Hermione looked helplessly to the prison warden for some form of salvation, but he just murmured loud enough for the room to hear, “You married him.” And wasn’t that a bitch? Their marriage contract which had been sitting idly by on the far table glowed a golden color, the official signed his name, as did the warden, and it popped seemingly out of existence. And that was that. By Hermione’s calculations the entire process had taken no more than thirty minutes, most of which were spent waiting on her groom. Ergo per stipulations of their contract she was obliged to spend another thirty minutes with him to satisfy the full hour. ‘Bugger,’ she mumbled under her breath. “Come Vixen, our humble abode awaits.” Severus held out his hand goading her to take it, which Hermione did not. Didn’t she know he enjoyed her like this; all prissy and stuck up while consorting with vile criminals and humiliating herself in prison? Even if he never saw her again it was precious enough to live off for the rest of his life. He watched her from behind as they were led to his cell, amused at her stiff legged strut, her head held imperiously high. She wanted the world to think her better than this, but the effort was wasted. Severus figured the truth was somewhere closer to her being a lost and scared little girl. Good. She should be scared. *
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Gilded Cage