Chapters 61-70

Accursed Arithmancy

Hermione’s world narrowed down to the touch of his lips on hers, warm, gentle, insistent, but infuriatingly chaste, to his hand holding her head, his fingers playing in her hair, his hand pressing against the small of her back…When Severus released her at last, she swayed against him, gasping. Her whole body pulsed with desire from her little toes to her ears. He didn’t let her go. Instead, both of his hands went around her back, pulling her against his body, while he lowered his head so that it rested against her right cheek. Tension and anxiety fell away. Within the circle of his arms, she could relax, and simply breathe. Breathe.

Finally Severus stepped back from her, but his right hand found hers, and pulled her along as he settled in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Seated on the wide, squashy armrest, she leant against him, inhaled his scent, and once again rehearsed the components in her mind. Severus still looked tired and thin, but she couldn’t remember having seen him in a better shape. And he did look more relaxed. Less tense.

‘Now what?’ she asked.

A black eyebrow quirked up. ‘We go and talk with the Headmistress and arrange for an appointment with the Ministry’s Registry Office. I suppose the Magical Law Enforcement Office may have to be consulted as well. And of course those Wizarding Genealogy Offices.’

Her heartbeat quickened again. Somehow she’d never anticipated that The Plan would actually work. Only of course it hadn’t, even if they were to be married now after all. Hermione’s brain seemed to be trying to tie itself into knots. How was it possible that her whole world had changed within five minutes? Or ten, maybe.

‘Surely you didn’t expect me to play the blushing bridegroom, Hermione?’ he sneered softly. But his tone lacked its usual sting, and his hand was soft on her leg, gently rubbing back and forth on her thigh. His other hand strayed to the bridge of his nose, as it so often did, when he was tired or exasperated. ‘I am definitely not…eager…to…hell, Hermione, there is no good way to say this!’ His tone hardened with an edge of desperation. ‘But even vows exchanged at a Ministry wedding hold more power of protection than the vows between apprentice and master.’

His eyes darkened to absolute black, as his fingers carefully caressed her left wrist.

‘I am afraid it seems that you will need all the protection you can get,’ he added in a low voice.

‘I’m not exactly helpless,’ she argued.

‘Which is why you allowed yourself to be overpowered by five Muggles controlled by the Imperius?’

She sucked in her breath. ‘They were?’

Severus nodded. ‘Yes. You were not attacked by chance, Hermione.’

‘But…but why?’

He shrugged. ‘Another message? Whoever is behind all this is just establishing himself as the new Dark Lord. They will need death and blood to build up a reputation.’

Severus’ long fingers wrapped around her hand, his grip both strong and gentle.

‘I almost wish there were other rites we could employ…’ He moved his shoulders uncomfortably.

Hermione frowned. ‘Why? What do you mean?’

His eyes glittered with impatience and he drew away from her. Restless, he rose to his feet and paced the room, black robes swirling. ‘Ancient rituals. Marriage rites.’

He gave her a pointed look. ‘Fertility ceremonies.’

When she gulped, he smirked. ‘However, they all have a distinct drawback. Just like the Unforgivables you have to mean them, with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul, when you cast them. As it is, that option is not open to us.’

Severus gazed at her, and for a fleeting moment Hermione had the impression that his eyes darkened with regret. But she couldn’t be sure as they were almost black to begin with.

‘Oh.’

‘Yes. ‘Oh’, indeed. As a matter of fact…’ He pointed at the scroll with the seal from the Wizarding Genealogy Offices.

‘…If you weren’t so bloody Gryffindor, you would have noticed that this doesn’t really look like an arithmantic anomaly, but rather like a botched curse.’

Hermione blinked at Snape. ‘A botched curse?’

She stared at him. That bit of paper had ruled her life for almost a year. She had built her entire future on it. Now Severus was saying that it was only a curse gone wrong?

‘Use your brains—Hermione.’

She just stared at him.

‘Think about it. You are a Muggle-born witch. I am part Muggle-born. The chances that there is no other fitting match for us are infinitesimal. I am not an arithmantist, but I would not be at all surprised if we were to find out that someone had fudged with the genealogies in an attempt to make sure that there was no legal match for me.’

‘WHAT?’ Her outrage made him smile.

‘Hermione, you know who I am. What I was.’

She swallowed hard. ‘But—if they bewitched the genealogies…then how…how is that possible?’ Hermione gestured at the scroll.

Severus caught her gaze. ‘Remember the ceremony when you became my apprentice?’ he asked. ‘Blood to sign you, kiss to bind you?’

She nodded.

‘The same principle holds true for the most ancient and most powerful betrothal rites. I do not remember anything of what you did to save me, but I am told that…’ He inhaled sharply. ‘…that it was not unlike this ritual.’

‘But…wouldn’t you have to…I don’t know…agree?’

Severus looked at her with that strange sadness in his eyes and inclined his head. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘That is true. As I said, I don’t remember anything at all. But had I been aware of anyone calling me in that realm betwixt and between…At that time…I would not have thought of you when I answered a woman’s call.’