Happily Ever After the Fact V: The Importance of Being Earnest
April, 1998
There was a long silence, and when Hermione peeked up from under her lashes, Severus was still staring at her, looking a little bit like someone had hit him with a Confundus. Tentative, Hermione prodded. "Severus?"
He shook his head dazedly. "I'm sorry...what? Did I really just hear you ask me to...to marry you?" His tone was incredulous, and he shook his head again. "Shite. I've been poisoned by one of those idiotic Weasley daydream products. I refuse to believe that Hermione Granger has travelled back in time because the world thinks I'm some kind of hero, and she wants to marry me. The entire premise is a farce."
Hermione groaned and dropped her forehead to her arms on top of the desk. It was ridiculous, she had known he would think so. His portrait had even warned her that convincing him would be difficult. The look in the portrait's eyes had held the barest hint of longing, though...she knew he had wanted it. Severus had wanted to live; he had wanted to breathe and walk and drink his tea. He had wanted to be with her. The man in front of her didn't want these things, but he could. His portrait had believed it enough to think it was worth the loss of himself to try.
A portrait will not animate unless its subject is dead, after all. If Hermione's quest to bring Severus back to the present day and to life was successful, she was, in essence, killing the portrait that had become her closest friend. The thought made her lift her head angrily and glare at the man across from her. "This is your chance-the only chance you're going to get-to cheat death and enjoy the spoils that you've given up so much for."
His lip curled in a sneer. "Alright, I'll play this game. Why would you decide to come after me? It's been twelve years according to you. Why now? Is it merely a nice collision of my being useful to you and a lovely opportunity to show the world what a selfless heroine you are? Sacrificing yourself in marriage to bring back a hero that everyone honestly liked better dead?" His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Did Weasley turn you down?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I didn't realise this sort of trip was possible until the last forty-eight hours. I told you, the Portkey was given to me by a friend. Also, I realise it's difficult for you to imagine, but I'm not and never have been pining for Ron Weasley. He married years ago. They have three children. I'm godmother to their eldest and the little monster detests me. To be honest, the feeling is mutual. And before you ask, no, I'm not sacrificing some dramatic love affair with Harry, either."
Severus' eyes sharpened. "I would imagine that is because Potter is dead?"
Hermione felt her jaw drop. "Dead? Good heavens, is that really the only circumstance you can imagine me not in love with Harry? No, he's not dead, I'm just not interested. Neither is he!" She gave him a sour look.
His expression closed off, and he stood, his wand once more pointing at her. "You have just given me no doubt of your duplicity. You are not Hermione Granger-certainly not a Hermione Granger from the future. I'm afraid your story simply has too many holes in it. Hermione Granger's wand is vine, I will never be called a hero by the Order of the Phoenix, and Miss Granger would certainly not come tromping back in time to save my skin-much less ask me to marry her-when she could save Harry Potter's instead. Make no mistake-Harry Potter will not outlive this war."
His voice became calculating as he studied her. "What I don't understand is why you have orchestrated such an elaborate ruse. What purpose could you possibly have coming to me in this guise with such a wild story? That's the real question here."
Hermione gaped, and then groaned in realisation. How could she have been stupid enough to forget? Severus believed right up to his death that Harry had to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated. Dumbledore had told him so, and with his dying thoughts he had explained his knowledge to Harry, as well as his allegiances. If Voldemort won, of course it would be because Harry Potter was killed. Either way, Severus' belief that Harry couldn't outlive the war was a valid one.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, Severus' long blackthorn wand was still trained directly between her eyes. "I swear, I am who I say. Question me under a truth potion if you like, even Veritaserum."
His lips twisted wryly, "Am I to simply trust that you didn't take the antidote before your arrival?"
"Legilimency, then. Surely you can trust that you are the most skilled Legilimens alive."
He waited a beat and then said softly, "I would never presume that I am a better Legilimens than the Dark Lord."
Hermione felt like banging her head on the desk. "Would you believe that you are a better Legilimens than I am an Occlumens? What do you have to lose by looking?"
His response was to narrow his eyes and whisper, "Legilimens."
Hermione whimpered in pain as his mind ripped open her memories the way a first year might rip open his Christmas gifts. He did not attempt to be gentle, and she could tell that she would have a rather monstrous headache by the time he was finished.
To her consternation, he skipped her more recent memories entirely, diving deeply into her past. He sought out vague, almost mundane things. Moments at home with her family, at school during her first few years and at Grimmauld Place during her fifth year were all subject to his scrutiny as if they were the most important memories she possessed. He was verifying her identity. He was picking memories of unremarkable nature from a variety of locations that only Hermione Granger could collect in their entirety. An imposter would spend more time focused on building false memories of major events, believing that Severus would view those first.
He then skipped ahead to similar mundane memories of her present. He watched her researching at RS&M, making tea, and numerous interactions with his portrait. The portrait itself seemed to startle him at first. The almost imperceptible jolt of his mind within hers reminded Hermione of her own reaction to the wanted poster in the village. Once he was past his initial surprise, he continued to rifle through various day-to-day things she did, pushing away the important memories she impatiently tried to show him.
He seemed in absolutely no hurry at all, and even pulled up a memory of her masturbating, his mental presence slightly gleeful. He watched it slowly, studying her actions and her body in detail, lingering over it like a thirteen-year-old in possession of his first porn mag. The memory itself heated her skin and set it tingling, and Hermione found it difficult not to squirm with both embarrassment and remembered lust in her seat after a bit.
Her current train of thought diverted him, and after ascertaining that she was getting aroused by her memory, he replayed it again. Clearly the bastard was enjoying himself immensely. Only when he seemed to satisfy his curiosity on that front-thoroughly!-did he finally look at what she wanted to show him. If she was a bit breathless and just the tiniest bit disappointed that he had pushed no further...well, hopefully that was something he wasn't paying attention to while rummaging through her secrets.
He watched the Battle of Hogwarts unflinchingly as various people fell around them, wounded or dead. He noted his own attack and memory haemorrhage, and how she had collected the leaked memories. He watched himself die, and then he replayed the whole scene again, apparently morbidly fascinated by the sight.
Then she showed him the posthumous accolades, the statue of him at Hogwarts, and his Order of Merlin. Minerva, as Headmistress of Hogwarts, had accepted it on his behalf to hang in the Headmaster's office, just under his portrait there. Hermione continued to press forward, showing him the recent law that had passed, her proposition to George, and the gift he had left behind for her. She showed him that last conversation with his portrait, where he had at first argued that he was hardly the worthiest of causes, then that he wouldn't believe her, before finally admitting that he would not mind so very much the chance to live again.
Severus' withdrawal from her mind was far more careful than his entry. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as a massive migraine seemed to explode. Tears leaked down her face. "Well? Do you believe me now?" she whispered.
"Yes." It was admitted softly, wonderingly, and she cracked her eyelids briefly to see him looking at her searchingly. He glanced about at the myriad of curiously watching portraits of the previous Hogwarts Headmasters and said to them very firmly, "As current Headmaster of Hogwarts, I bind you to silence on this matter. No one can know of Miss Granger's presence here this evening."
Silent nods and soft spoken acquiesces met his demand, and a couple of moments later, he was handing her a potion, his fingertips brushing hers. The contact jolted through her, the warmth of his fingertips shocking her as she was reminded that he was alive. This wasn't a mere representation of him, an echo of his personality hung on her wall. Severus Snape was standing in front of her. He was older than she had remembered, and harsher, but so alive and multi-dimensional that it was difficult not to keep her emotions in check.
Hermione gratefully drank the proffered headache potion, wondering if it was worth her pride to lick the inside of the bottle. Once her head cleared, she gave him a scathing look. "I don't think you needed to spend quite so much time watching me naked, Severus Snape."
The man had the gall to leer at her. "If things go according to your plan, it's nothing I won't get to see and study in great detail anyway." His expression slipped a little, and he asked seriously, "You're feeling better?"
"Yes, much. What makes you think I'm not simply offering a marriage of convenience in order to bypass the law?" Hermione asked. "It's what I offered George."
"Two reasons. First, because I won't agree otherwise. If I'm going to be married, I shall damn well take what perks that entails."
"I suppose survival, hero status, an Order of Merlin, all that isn't enough for you?"
"Don't pretend by giving them to me, you're being magnanimous. You're only giving me the chance to enjoy what I should have always been allowed to enjoy." His voice was mild.
"Secondly," he continued, "we're going to share a bed because you want us to." He gave her a smug look. "You chose me. You came back in time and could have saved anyone, but you picked me in order to marry you. Deny it all you like, but you care. Don't think I didn't notice how you breathed my name whilst you fingered yourself." His eyes glittered, and Hermione felt her cheeks burn. It was an effort to continue to hold his gaze. She really hadn't meant for him to know about that.
The corners of his mouth curled slightly, and his dark eyes were heated as he continued, "You're enamoured of a portrait, and whilst that might typically be a bad sign, it's my portrait, and I'd be a fool to marry you and not take advantage of that."
Relief shuddered through Hermione-a perceptible jolt that she couldn't contain. "You agree, then? You'll marry me in exchange for your life?"
"If you can present me with a convincing plan that won't change the outcome of the battle..." Severus hesitated, his hair swinging forward to shield his face. "Guarantee that you're not flattening the proverbial butterfly in doing this, then yes, I agree."
"Alright, then." Hermione swallowed. She sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "So, first I need you to remove a specific set of memories and bottle them for Harry. They are the same ones he saw in my timeline when you died, and he will be using them to not only get the information he needs to defeat Vo-the Dark Lord, but they will also convince him what side you are on. His testimony is what most of your defence is based on."
Severus sneered. "Am I to just hand them to Potter, or do they need to be gained through some act of heroism, like the sword?"
"Neither," Hermione responded crossly. "We're giving those to a house-elf, who is going to deliver them with a message that they were entrusted into her care by the Headmaster. Since Professor Dumbledore had a pensieve that Harry has used before..."
"You think he'll jump to the conclusion that they were left for him by Albus."
"Exactly. The trouble is making sure they get to him at exactly the right time. I think it's best if you spoke to Minerva, too. Here's what I have in mind." Hermione quickly outlined her plan, watching as his face grew thunderous, and then pensive.
"She isn't going to believe me," he said quietly. "Things have gone too far for that."
"She doesn't really need to," Hermione countered. "The point is, after all this is over, and your actions come to light, she is going to remember that you tried to tell her before you left. It's another piece of the puzzle that will make your posthumous trial go more smoothly. It will also prepare her to take charge as the Headmistress ahead of time; she won't be worried about you and can focus on the Carrows."
Severus' lips thinned. "What of my memories?"
Hermione pursed her own lips. "What of them?"
"When do I get them back? Surely you don't believe I'd entrust something like that to Potter for the rest of eternity when I am, after all, alive."
Hermione stood, and paced to the large window overlooking the castle grounds, uncertain how to proceed delicately. "A great deal of my research at RS&M has to do with memories and memory charms. Sort of a personal interest in particular of mine. You've been helping me a little, with the theory."
"Hermione," he growled out warningly. "Get to the point!"
She whirled to look at him again. "What are Roxanne Moneta's three laws of Mnemosyne Theory?"
Severus crossed his arms and responded shortly, "All memories are entropic. All memories are corruptible by suggestion or perception. A person viewing his own memories outside himself will always be a tainted source of reason, since he will always relieve his own emotions as well as the view."
"I thought for a long time that the memories you haemorrhaged were almost crystalline in clarity, and seemingly chosen specifically to give Harry all the information he needed to win. Which is odd, don't you think, since many of those memories should have faded into almost vague recollections or mere conversations by then. Odder still, because the act of haemorrhage is not controllable. I asked your portrait about it once; if you had created the memories specifically for Harry to discover in some way."
Severus also stood, his expression furious, and Hermione cut him off with a sharp movement of her hand. "Your portrait told me that they were real, kept clear because of how often you put them in a pensieve to view instead of just letting them fade. You relived them over and over again, compounding your own feelings of loss, childhood infatuation, and guilt until it became an obsession. You didn't let them fade, let yourself heal-you've been torturing yourself with your own memories in order to keep your motivation alive in this war. I doubt I even need to tell you which ones to bottle for Harry-they haemorrhaged from you at your death because of how many times you've already ripped them out for viewing and then stuffed them back in."
"How is any of that your business, Miss Granger?" His voice was deadly quiet, seething in anger.
Hermione shook her head sadly, "I'm just...not so sure it's a good idea for you to get them back. You need to let yourself heal. You can't possibly move on with your life and be happy if you keep doing that."
He slammed a hand down on the desk. "Luckily for me, that isn't your decision to make. I've done what I've had to do to get through this bloody war. There are only so many times I could force myself to return to a known madman and uncertain torture without proper motivation. What I do with my memories and my life should be my choice."
"It's funny," Hermione said bitterly, "that's precisely the same thing I said to the Minister of Magic regarding the marriage law." She sighed. "I don't know where they are in my present, Severus. I doubt Harry has them. They're probably tucked away in an evidence locker somewhere in the Ministry." She sighed and capitulated, "I'll help you get them back, if you truly wish it. I promise."
Hermione gingerly touched her hair and looked at her muddied clothes with distaste. "We have somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two hours left before my Portkey will activate. May I please take a bath, and then we can plan out the rest?"
Severus studied her for a moment, and then solemnly handed her back her wand. "You can use my bathroom."
He tilted his head in a gesture for her to follow, and then asked curiously as they walked, "What did happen to your other wand?"
"It was taken by a Snatcher and lost somewhere at Malfoy Manor when Harry, Ron and I were taken there."
He nodded, and then looked at her keenly. "I had thought some of that encounter exaggerated. Did you really make off with Bellatrix Lestrange's wand?"
Hermione grinned. "I'll do you one better than that. Right now, out there somewhere," she waved a hand toward the outside wall that they were walking past, "We're planning a successful break in to her Gringott's vault."
His eyebrows climbed. "You manage to break into her Gringott's vault?"
"Oh, sure." She couldn't help but brag a little. "And we leave on the back of a dragon." She grimaced. "You wouldn't believe what it takes to try to open your own vault with the goblins after a stunt like that."
He gave her sideways glance, and then opened the door to a bathroom that was-barely-smaller than the Prefect's bath, and gestured her in.
"Wow...this job does come with some perks, doesn't it?"
He gave her a small, wicked smile, and it sent an unexpected shiver of arousal through her. "Wait until you see the bed."
She was suddenly very aware of his taller frame and dark eyes. Trying not to be horribly obvious, Hermione stammered, "Suitably impressive, I imagine."
"Indeed." He drifted past her to the huge, sunken tub and started turning on various taps, filling the tub with steaming water and lemongrass scented foam.
"I-I've got it from here," she said. "I'll be out in perhaps an hour."
His eyes gleamed in amusement, and he crossed his arms. "Technically, you're still my prisoner," he teased. "I really shouldn't take my eyes off you."
Hermione narrowed hers. "Invalid argument. You gave me my wand back, which is an unspoken declaration that I no longer hold that status."
"You're also my fiancée. Shouldn't that give me the right to enjoy the view?"
"Pretty sure you already took advantage of that right, before you were my fiancé. So in my estimation, you owe me one."
"If I've already seen it all, and will again, what's the harm in letting me watch now? Besides, I'm fairly certain that spouses don't owe each other viewing privileges."
"Severus..." her voice was dangerous.
"Hermione..." he rejoined, his voice low and cajoling. "I've spent the last year and longer living in utter hell with no hope at all of any sort of pleasant ending. Can you really blame me when a woman shows up out of nowhere, promises me survival, wealth, recognition and herself and then asks to frolic about in my bath? I'm still not entirely convinced that I haven't been slipped one of the Weasley twins’ products."
"Funny you say that, since I'm the one currently on a Weasley product." Hermione muttered under her breath. She glanced at the man in front of her, trying to decide what to do. On the one hand, the idea of taking a bath in front of him felt a little awkward-she had never done as much even with his portrait, and he looked every inch her Potions professor now. On the other hand, this was Severus. He wasn't her Severus yet, but he had agreed to come with her, to marry her. The thought of bathing in front of him, teasing him just a little, made her feel extremely wicked, and it was tempting.
He was a virgin, too. Hermione wasn't entirely certain what he had done in the past, but his portrait had been clear on the point that he hadn't ever gone that far before. It was entirely possible that a woman had never undressed in front of him willingly before-she might be the first. In fact, Hermione was willing to bet that was, indeed the case. She was an utter mess, the very last thing from sexy, and yet he was still incredibly focused on the idea. The thought of being first for him in most things sexual was strangely intoxicating, and gave her a surge of feminine intrigue and power.
Biting her lip, Hermione met his eyes with hers, and slowly reached for the clasp on her cloak. His eyes dropped to her fingers, fixated. Once it fell to the floor, she said softly, "If you are determined to stay, you may. On one condition."
Severus' gaze returned to hers, and his expression turned sulky. "There's always a condition, isn't there?"
"If you're going to stay, then you have to join me."
His eyes went wide, and his jaw slackened. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "I am dreaming." Nonetheless, his fingers rose to his throat and began unbuttoning his coat.
A/N: Thank you all so very much for reading--I really appreciate it, and the reviews you leave. More than you know! They make and brighten my life in ways that I cannot completely articulate. To the vast majority of you, who are wonderful (and polite) even when disagreeing with me, you are absolute treasures. I hope you know how happy I am to have made your acquaintance.
That said, I would like to remind my fanfiction.net readers: if you do not sign in, I cannot respond. Perhaps this is on purpose, and those with critisims are afraid I will respond in kind? (Shame on them for only being brave enough to criticize when anonymous). I have always been unfailingly polite to my reviewers, even the ones who are not polite to me. If you have constructive criticism, I welcome it, and any discussion that may follow. I enjoy growing as a writer. If you are questioning my plot choices or attacking my story because you're just in that kind of mood, I would like the chance to explain my reasoning.
It is typically my policy to never respond to unsigned reviews in the author notes, but this last chapter brought a couple a feel I cannot let pass without response. I apologise for what is an unusually long author note from me as I do so.
To the unsigned anon guest who got snippy because of my use of the Virgin!Snape plot device: As I have posted at the top of every single chapter of this story, Happily Ever After the Fact was written during a gift exchange for Dragoon811, who is a dear friend. She enjoys that particular plot device, and we had discussed in the past how much fun it would be to see a story using as many SS/HG cliche's as possible (such as Marriage Law, Time Travel, Portrait!Snape, Virgin!Snape...etc.) That's why. Because I wanted to, and because it was a gift for someone I knew would enjoy it.
To the unsigned guest identifying as "Jess": A couple things need to be addressed about your review. While I'm tempted to write you off as a common reviewing troll, I feel the issue you have touched on is an important one, and I'm not afraid to make my stance on it very very clear. First of all: This is a Harry Potter fanfiction. Which means it is set in England. In England, size "12" is about the American equivalent of size 8. Which is NOT fat. At all. Furthermore, if I had not done the research and Hermione was the American size "12" she would STILL not be fat. As for you being unable to fathom Hermione getting that big, then you have a very limited imagination. I know many women--especially at thirty with desk jobs--who are between size 12-18 who were extremely fit when they were teenagers. I am one of them. I still do not consider myself "rather large" for the record. Lastly, shame on you for body shaming ANY woman, even a fictional characterization of a fictional character. So it doesn't fit with your head-canon? That's fine. You are more than welcome to tell me you don't see Hermione (an average sized girl, according to book canon) gaining weight once she is no longer starving and hasn't been running up and down Hogwarts' steps everyday in over ten years. Just as it's my right to disagree with that assessment. You are not welcome to be judgmental about size 12. In any country.
To the rest of my reviewers, please excuse my harsh words. This was an issue I feel very strongly about. I hope this note has not soured the story for you, and you continue to enjoy Happily Ever After the Fact.
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There was a long silence, and when Hermione peeked up from under her lashes, Severus was still staring at her, looking a little bit like someone had hit him with a Confundus. Tentative, Hermione prodded. "Severus?"
He shook his head dazedly. "I'm sorry...what? Did I really just hear you ask me to...to marry you?" His tone was incredulous, and he shook his head again. "Shite. I've been poisoned by one of those idiotic Weasley daydream products. I refuse to believe that Hermione Granger has travelled back in time because the world thinks I'm some kind of hero, and she wants to marry me. The entire premise is a farce."
Hermione groaned and dropped her forehead to her arms on top of the desk. It was ridiculous, she had known he would think so. His portrait had even warned her that convincing him would be difficult. The look in the portrait's eyes had held the barest hint of longing, though...she knew he had wanted it. Severus had wanted to live; he had wanted to breathe and walk and drink his tea. He had wanted to be with her. The man in front of her didn't want these things, but he could. His portrait had believed it enough to think it was worth the loss of himself to try.
A portrait will not animate unless its subject is dead, after all. If Hermione's quest to bring Severus back to the present day and to life was successful, she was, in essence, killing the portrait that had become her closest friend. The thought made her lift her head angrily and glare at the man across from her. "This is your chance-the only chance you're going to get-to cheat death and enjoy the spoils that you've given up so much for."
His lip curled in a sneer. "Alright, I'll play this game. Why would you decide to come after me? It's been twelve years according to you. Why now? Is it merely a nice collision of my being useful to you and a lovely opportunity to show the world what a selfless heroine you are? Sacrificing yourself in marriage to bring back a hero that everyone honestly liked better dead?" His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Did Weasley turn you down?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I didn't realise this sort of trip was possible until the last forty-eight hours. I told you, the Portkey was given to me by a friend. Also, I realise it's difficult for you to imagine, but I'm not and never have been pining for Ron Weasley. He married years ago. They have three children. I'm godmother to their eldest and the little monster detests me. To be honest, the feeling is mutual. And before you ask, no, I'm not sacrificing some dramatic love affair with Harry, either."
Severus' eyes sharpened. "I would imagine that is because Potter is dead?"
Hermione felt her jaw drop. "Dead? Good heavens, is that really the only circumstance you can imagine me not in love with Harry? No, he's not dead, I'm just not interested. Neither is he!" She gave him a sour look.
His expression closed off, and he stood, his wand once more pointing at her. "You have just given me no doubt of your duplicity. You are not Hermione Granger-certainly not a Hermione Granger from the future. I'm afraid your story simply has too many holes in it. Hermione Granger's wand is vine, I will never be called a hero by the Order of the Phoenix, and Miss Granger would certainly not come tromping back in time to save my skin-much less ask me to marry her-when she could save Harry Potter's instead. Make no mistake-Harry Potter will not outlive this war."
His voice became calculating as he studied her. "What I don't understand is why you have orchestrated such an elaborate ruse. What purpose could you possibly have coming to me in this guise with such a wild story? That's the real question here."
Hermione gaped, and then groaned in realisation. How could she have been stupid enough to forget? Severus believed right up to his death that Harry had to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated. Dumbledore had told him so, and with his dying thoughts he had explained his knowledge to Harry, as well as his allegiances. If Voldemort won, of course it would be because Harry Potter was killed. Either way, Severus' belief that Harry couldn't outlive the war was a valid one.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, Severus' long blackthorn wand was still trained directly between her eyes. "I swear, I am who I say. Question me under a truth potion if you like, even Veritaserum."
His lips twisted wryly, "Am I to simply trust that you didn't take the antidote before your arrival?"
"Legilimency, then. Surely you can trust that you are the most skilled Legilimens alive."
He waited a beat and then said softly, "I would never presume that I am a better Legilimens than the Dark Lord."
Hermione felt like banging her head on the desk. "Would you believe that you are a better Legilimens than I am an Occlumens? What do you have to lose by looking?"
His response was to narrow his eyes and whisper, "Legilimens."
Hermione whimpered in pain as his mind ripped open her memories the way a first year might rip open his Christmas gifts. He did not attempt to be gentle, and she could tell that she would have a rather monstrous headache by the time he was finished.
To her consternation, he skipped her more recent memories entirely, diving deeply into her past. He sought out vague, almost mundane things. Moments at home with her family, at school during her first few years and at Grimmauld Place during her fifth year were all subject to his scrutiny as if they were the most important memories she possessed. He was verifying her identity. He was picking memories of unremarkable nature from a variety of locations that only Hermione Granger could collect in their entirety. An imposter would spend more time focused on building false memories of major events, believing that Severus would view those first.
He then skipped ahead to similar mundane memories of her present. He watched her researching at RS&M, making tea, and numerous interactions with his portrait. The portrait itself seemed to startle him at first. The almost imperceptible jolt of his mind within hers reminded Hermione of her own reaction to the wanted poster in the village. Once he was past his initial surprise, he continued to rifle through various day-to-day things she did, pushing away the important memories she impatiently tried to show him.
He seemed in absolutely no hurry at all, and even pulled up a memory of her masturbating, his mental presence slightly gleeful. He watched it slowly, studying her actions and her body in detail, lingering over it like a thirteen-year-old in possession of his first porn mag. The memory itself heated her skin and set it tingling, and Hermione found it difficult not to squirm with both embarrassment and remembered lust in her seat after a bit.
Her current train of thought diverted him, and after ascertaining that she was getting aroused by her memory, he replayed it again. Clearly the bastard was enjoying himself immensely. Only when he seemed to satisfy his curiosity on that front-thoroughly!-did he finally look at what she wanted to show him. If she was a bit breathless and just the tiniest bit disappointed that he had pushed no further...well, hopefully that was something he wasn't paying attention to while rummaging through her secrets.
He watched the Battle of Hogwarts unflinchingly as various people fell around them, wounded or dead. He noted his own attack and memory haemorrhage, and how she had collected the leaked memories. He watched himself die, and then he replayed the whole scene again, apparently morbidly fascinated by the sight.
Then she showed him the posthumous accolades, the statue of him at Hogwarts, and his Order of Merlin. Minerva, as Headmistress of Hogwarts, had accepted it on his behalf to hang in the Headmaster's office, just under his portrait there. Hermione continued to press forward, showing him the recent law that had passed, her proposition to George, and the gift he had left behind for her. She showed him that last conversation with his portrait, where he had at first argued that he was hardly the worthiest of causes, then that he wouldn't believe her, before finally admitting that he would not mind so very much the chance to live again.
Severus' withdrawal from her mind was far more careful than his entry. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as a massive migraine seemed to explode. Tears leaked down her face. "Well? Do you believe me now?" she whispered.
"Yes." It was admitted softly, wonderingly, and she cracked her eyelids briefly to see him looking at her searchingly. He glanced about at the myriad of curiously watching portraits of the previous Hogwarts Headmasters and said to them very firmly, "As current Headmaster of Hogwarts, I bind you to silence on this matter. No one can know of Miss Granger's presence here this evening."
Silent nods and soft spoken acquiesces met his demand, and a couple of moments later, he was handing her a potion, his fingertips brushing hers. The contact jolted through her, the warmth of his fingertips shocking her as she was reminded that he was alive. This wasn't a mere representation of him, an echo of his personality hung on her wall. Severus Snape was standing in front of her. He was older than she had remembered, and harsher, but so alive and multi-dimensional that it was difficult not to keep her emotions in check.
Hermione gratefully drank the proffered headache potion, wondering if it was worth her pride to lick the inside of the bottle. Once her head cleared, she gave him a scathing look. "I don't think you needed to spend quite so much time watching me naked, Severus Snape."
The man had the gall to leer at her. "If things go according to your plan, it's nothing I won't get to see and study in great detail anyway." His expression slipped a little, and he asked seriously, "You're feeling better?"
"Yes, much. What makes you think I'm not simply offering a marriage of convenience in order to bypass the law?" Hermione asked. "It's what I offered George."
"Two reasons. First, because I won't agree otherwise. If I'm going to be married, I shall damn well take what perks that entails."
"I suppose survival, hero status, an Order of Merlin, all that isn't enough for you?"
"Don't pretend by giving them to me, you're being magnanimous. You're only giving me the chance to enjoy what I should have always been allowed to enjoy." His voice was mild.
"Secondly," he continued, "we're going to share a bed because you want us to." He gave her a smug look. "You chose me. You came back in time and could have saved anyone, but you picked me in order to marry you. Deny it all you like, but you care. Don't think I didn't notice how you breathed my name whilst you fingered yourself." His eyes glittered, and Hermione felt her cheeks burn. It was an effort to continue to hold his gaze. She really hadn't meant for him to know about that.
The corners of his mouth curled slightly, and his dark eyes were heated as he continued, "You're enamoured of a portrait, and whilst that might typically be a bad sign, it's my portrait, and I'd be a fool to marry you and not take advantage of that."
Relief shuddered through Hermione-a perceptible jolt that she couldn't contain. "You agree, then? You'll marry me in exchange for your life?"
"If you can present me with a convincing plan that won't change the outcome of the battle..." Severus hesitated, his hair swinging forward to shield his face. "Guarantee that you're not flattening the proverbial butterfly in doing this, then yes, I agree."
"Alright, then." Hermione swallowed. She sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "So, first I need you to remove a specific set of memories and bottle them for Harry. They are the same ones he saw in my timeline when you died, and he will be using them to not only get the information he needs to defeat Vo-the Dark Lord, but they will also convince him what side you are on. His testimony is what most of your defence is based on."
Severus sneered. "Am I to just hand them to Potter, or do they need to be gained through some act of heroism, like the sword?"
"Neither," Hermione responded crossly. "We're giving those to a house-elf, who is going to deliver them with a message that they were entrusted into her care by the Headmaster. Since Professor Dumbledore had a pensieve that Harry has used before..."
"You think he'll jump to the conclusion that they were left for him by Albus."
"Exactly. The trouble is making sure they get to him at exactly the right time. I think it's best if you spoke to Minerva, too. Here's what I have in mind." Hermione quickly outlined her plan, watching as his face grew thunderous, and then pensive.
"She isn't going to believe me," he said quietly. "Things have gone too far for that."
"She doesn't really need to," Hermione countered. "The point is, after all this is over, and your actions come to light, she is going to remember that you tried to tell her before you left. It's another piece of the puzzle that will make your posthumous trial go more smoothly. It will also prepare her to take charge as the Headmistress ahead of time; she won't be worried about you and can focus on the Carrows."
Severus' lips thinned. "What of my memories?"
Hermione pursed her own lips. "What of them?"
"When do I get them back? Surely you don't believe I'd entrust something like that to Potter for the rest of eternity when I am, after all, alive."
Hermione stood, and paced to the large window overlooking the castle grounds, uncertain how to proceed delicately. "A great deal of my research at RS&M has to do with memories and memory charms. Sort of a personal interest in particular of mine. You've been helping me a little, with the theory."
"Hermione," he growled out warningly. "Get to the point!"
She whirled to look at him again. "What are Roxanne Moneta's three laws of Mnemosyne Theory?"
Severus crossed his arms and responded shortly, "All memories are entropic. All memories are corruptible by suggestion or perception. A person viewing his own memories outside himself will always be a tainted source of reason, since he will always relieve his own emotions as well as the view."
"I thought for a long time that the memories you haemorrhaged were almost crystalline in clarity, and seemingly chosen specifically to give Harry all the information he needed to win. Which is odd, don't you think, since many of those memories should have faded into almost vague recollections or mere conversations by then. Odder still, because the act of haemorrhage is not controllable. I asked your portrait about it once; if you had created the memories specifically for Harry to discover in some way."
Severus also stood, his expression furious, and Hermione cut him off with a sharp movement of her hand. "Your portrait told me that they were real, kept clear because of how often you put them in a pensieve to view instead of just letting them fade. You relived them over and over again, compounding your own feelings of loss, childhood infatuation, and guilt until it became an obsession. You didn't let them fade, let yourself heal-you've been torturing yourself with your own memories in order to keep your motivation alive in this war. I doubt I even need to tell you which ones to bottle for Harry-they haemorrhaged from you at your death because of how many times you've already ripped them out for viewing and then stuffed them back in."
"How is any of that your business, Miss Granger?" His voice was deadly quiet, seething in anger.
Hermione shook her head sadly, "I'm just...not so sure it's a good idea for you to get them back. You need to let yourself heal. You can't possibly move on with your life and be happy if you keep doing that."
He slammed a hand down on the desk. "Luckily for me, that isn't your decision to make. I've done what I've had to do to get through this bloody war. There are only so many times I could force myself to return to a known madman and uncertain torture without proper motivation. What I do with my memories and my life should be my choice."
"It's funny," Hermione said bitterly, "that's precisely the same thing I said to the Minister of Magic regarding the marriage law." She sighed. "I don't know where they are in my present, Severus. I doubt Harry has them. They're probably tucked away in an evidence locker somewhere in the Ministry." She sighed and capitulated, "I'll help you get them back, if you truly wish it. I promise."
Hermione gingerly touched her hair and looked at her muddied clothes with distaste. "We have somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two hours left before my Portkey will activate. May I please take a bath, and then we can plan out the rest?"
Severus studied her for a moment, and then solemnly handed her back her wand. "You can use my bathroom."
He tilted his head in a gesture for her to follow, and then asked curiously as they walked, "What did happen to your other wand?"
"It was taken by a Snatcher and lost somewhere at Malfoy Manor when Harry, Ron and I were taken there."
He nodded, and then looked at her keenly. "I had thought some of that encounter exaggerated. Did you really make off with Bellatrix Lestrange's wand?"
Hermione grinned. "I'll do you one better than that. Right now, out there somewhere," she waved a hand toward the outside wall that they were walking past, "We're planning a successful break in to her Gringott's vault."
His eyebrows climbed. "You manage to break into her Gringott's vault?"
"Oh, sure." She couldn't help but brag a little. "And we leave on the back of a dragon." She grimaced. "You wouldn't believe what it takes to try to open your own vault with the goblins after a stunt like that."
He gave her sideways glance, and then opened the door to a bathroom that was-barely-smaller than the Prefect's bath, and gestured her in.
"Wow...this job does come with some perks, doesn't it?"
He gave her a small, wicked smile, and it sent an unexpected shiver of arousal through her. "Wait until you see the bed."
She was suddenly very aware of his taller frame and dark eyes. Trying not to be horribly obvious, Hermione stammered, "Suitably impressive, I imagine."
"Indeed." He drifted past her to the huge, sunken tub and started turning on various taps, filling the tub with steaming water and lemongrass scented foam.
"I-I've got it from here," she said. "I'll be out in perhaps an hour."
His eyes gleamed in amusement, and he crossed his arms. "Technically, you're still my prisoner," he teased. "I really shouldn't take my eyes off you."
Hermione narrowed hers. "Invalid argument. You gave me my wand back, which is an unspoken declaration that I no longer hold that status."
"You're also my fiancée. Shouldn't that give me the right to enjoy the view?"
"Pretty sure you already took advantage of that right, before you were my fiancé. So in my estimation, you owe me one."
"If I've already seen it all, and will again, what's the harm in letting me watch now? Besides, I'm fairly certain that spouses don't owe each other viewing privileges."
"Severus..." her voice was dangerous.
"Hermione..." he rejoined, his voice low and cajoling. "I've spent the last year and longer living in utter hell with no hope at all of any sort of pleasant ending. Can you really blame me when a woman shows up out of nowhere, promises me survival, wealth, recognition and herself and then asks to frolic about in my bath? I'm still not entirely convinced that I haven't been slipped one of the Weasley twins’ products."
"Funny you say that, since I'm the one currently on a Weasley product." Hermione muttered under her breath. She glanced at the man in front of her, trying to decide what to do. On the one hand, the idea of taking a bath in front of him felt a little awkward-she had never done as much even with his portrait, and he looked every inch her Potions professor now. On the other hand, this was Severus. He wasn't her Severus yet, but he had agreed to come with her, to marry her. The thought of bathing in front of him, teasing him just a little, made her feel extremely wicked, and it was tempting.
He was a virgin, too. Hermione wasn't entirely certain what he had done in the past, but his portrait had been clear on the point that he hadn't ever gone that far before. It was entirely possible that a woman had never undressed in front of him willingly before-she might be the first. In fact, Hermione was willing to bet that was, indeed the case. She was an utter mess, the very last thing from sexy, and yet he was still incredibly focused on the idea. The thought of being first for him in most things sexual was strangely intoxicating, and gave her a surge of feminine intrigue and power.
Biting her lip, Hermione met his eyes with hers, and slowly reached for the clasp on her cloak. His eyes dropped to her fingers, fixated. Once it fell to the floor, she said softly, "If you are determined to stay, you may. On one condition."
Severus' gaze returned to hers, and his expression turned sulky. "There's always a condition, isn't there?"
"If you're going to stay, then you have to join me."
His eyes went wide, and his jaw slackened. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "I am dreaming." Nonetheless, his fingers rose to his throat and began unbuttoning his coat.
A/N: Thank you all so very much for reading--I really appreciate it, and the reviews you leave. More than you know! They make and brighten my life in ways that I cannot completely articulate. To the vast majority of you, who are wonderful (and polite) even when disagreeing with me, you are absolute treasures. I hope you know how happy I am to have made your acquaintance.
That said, I would like to remind my fanfiction.net readers: if you do not sign in, I cannot respond. Perhaps this is on purpose, and those with critisims are afraid I will respond in kind? (Shame on them for only being brave enough to criticize when anonymous). I have always been unfailingly polite to my reviewers, even the ones who are not polite to me. If you have constructive criticism, I welcome it, and any discussion that may follow. I enjoy growing as a writer. If you are questioning my plot choices or attacking my story because you're just in that kind of mood, I would like the chance to explain my reasoning.
It is typically my policy to never respond to unsigned reviews in the author notes, but this last chapter brought a couple a feel I cannot let pass without response. I apologise for what is an unusually long author note from me as I do so.
To the unsigned anon guest who got snippy because of my use of the Virgin!Snape plot device: As I have posted at the top of every single chapter of this story, Happily Ever After the Fact was written during a gift exchange for Dragoon811, who is a dear friend. She enjoys that particular plot device, and we had discussed in the past how much fun it would be to see a story using as many SS/HG cliche's as possible (such as Marriage Law, Time Travel, Portrait!Snape, Virgin!Snape...etc.) That's why. Because I wanted to, and because it was a gift for someone I knew would enjoy it.
To the unsigned guest identifying as "Jess": A couple things need to be addressed about your review. While I'm tempted to write you off as a common reviewing troll, I feel the issue you have touched on is an important one, and I'm not afraid to make my stance on it very very clear. First of all: This is a Harry Potter fanfiction. Which means it is set in England. In England, size "12" is about the American equivalent of size 8. Which is NOT fat. At all. Furthermore, if I had not done the research and Hermione was the American size "12" she would STILL not be fat. As for you being unable to fathom Hermione getting that big, then you have a very limited imagination. I know many women--especially at thirty with desk jobs--who are between size 12-18 who were extremely fit when they were teenagers. I am one of them. I still do not consider myself "rather large" for the record. Lastly, shame on you for body shaming ANY woman, even a fictional characterization of a fictional character. So it doesn't fit with your head-canon? That's fine. You are more than welcome to tell me you don't see Hermione (an average sized girl, according to book canon) gaining weight once she is no longer starving and hasn't been running up and down Hogwarts' steps everyday in over ten years. Just as it's my right to disagree with that assessment. You are not welcome to be judgmental about size 12. In any country.
To the rest of my reviewers, please excuse my harsh words. This was an issue I feel very strongly about. I hope this note has not soured the story for you, and you continue to enjoy Happily Ever After the Fact.
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