A/N: Happy New Year! Thank you all for your continued patience and reviews!


Chapter 34: Spiraling

"Arm."

Annoyed, Hermione undid her sleeves to show her husband. When he was satisfied with the effect of the healing balm, she cleared her throat. "Can I have my letters back?"

"When the Headmaster has finished contemplating them."

She smirked at him. "Suppose I'm not a complete buffoon, then."

Severus sighed while shouldering her bookbag. "As if anyone's ever thought that."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You did! Yesterday. Because I wasn't practicing my shielding."

"While you certainly should be, I wasn't referring to you. I spoke of the Ministry-appointed fuckwit masquerading as a Defense instructor."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "Professor Laizment was appointed by the Ministry?"

"As was last year's disappointment."

"They're not that bad, you know," she followed him through his office. "They're both loads better than Umbridge."

"That mountain troll you tried to befriend would've been better than Umbridge." As Snape pulled open his office door, a student sitting across the hallway scrambled to her feet. "Miss Bulstrode?"

"Sorry to bother you, sir," the girl kept her eyes downcast. "I didn't mean to hurt Madam Snape, and I apologized after –"

He glanced questioningly at Hermione, who nodded in confirmation, then cleared his throat. "Miss Bulstrode, I presume you were only doing as you were tasked."

"Yes, sir."

"Then we have no problem."

"You said it was alright," Millicent looked to Hermione, "but then you didn't come to supper, so I thought maybe – "

"Oh. No, I'm fine," Hermione gave a sympathetic smile. "It's barely even visible now. I'm sure you can imagine how thoroughly Severus looked after me."

"Ahh," the reddening witch hastily dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Breakfast is growing cold, Bulstrode," Snape snapped, glaring at his wife.

As the embarrassed girl shuffled off, Hermione smugly grinned up at him. "I didn't try to befriend that troll. I was minding my own business when it came after me."

He rolled his eyes as he warded his office. "And tormenting Miss Bulstrode –"

"She reminds me of the troll," the witch shrugged. When his disapproving gaze snapped to her, she held up two fingers. "Twice she's tried to strangle me. I think I'm allowed some leeway."

The couple proceeded up to the Great Hall in silence. Upon delivering his wife and her bag to her table, Severus cleared his throat. "Potter, Weasley – ten points from Gryffindor."

"For what?" Hermione and the boys exclaimed, though Ron's cry was muffled by a mouthful of eggs.

"Lying to your professors."

"About what?"

Severus snorted, amused by the trio's continued unison, then smirked at his wife. "You claimed you went looking for the troll, which you've now confirmed was untrue, and the two of you supported said perjury. So, that's five points apiece."

Hermione gaped at him, while Harry glanced between them, and Ron pointed at her. "She's the one who lied!"

"And if I could take points from my wife, Weasley, it would've been fifteen."

Harry punched Ron under the table to keep him from drawing additional fire.

Stepping closer to his glaring wife, Severus murmured in her ear, "If you want to play, sweetheart…"

Shaking her head in exasperation, she watched him walk away before finally taking her seat.

"I want to understand your relationship so badly," Ginny gestured with her spoon, "yet I'm not sure I can handle it."

"I'm not sure I can handle it," Hermione mumbled. She reached for the toast platter, then noticed Harry staring at her. "What?"

He cocked his head. "So, you're just ratting us out now?"

"Technically, I ratted myself out," she buttered her toast. "And I didn't do it intentionally. It just sort of slipped out."

Ron frowned. "And what else slipped out, hmm?"

"Oi, Weasley – you heard McGonagall! No sex jokes, eh?"

"That wasn't a…" his face reddened. "Shut up, Seamus!"

xxxXxxx

Hermione rubbed her eyebrow as she read through her herbology essay. She tried to keep her focus on asphodel cultivation and not on her feelings. Thanks to her husband's petty retaliation that morning, there was no spot saved for her at lunch. Ginny had given her a sympathetic look, but it was clear Harry and Ron were upset with her. Instead, she had to sit with a giddy bunch of fifth-year girls who wanted to know all about her marriage. In retribution, she may have "accidently" revealed how ticklish Snape was when tired.

At his entrance, Hermione briefly glared up from the couch, then pretended to ignore him as he hauled the precariously balanced stack of essays to his sorting table. She thought about a tripping hex but knew it would not bode well for her.

With a grunt, Severus dropped a stack of unsealed envelopes beside her. "The Headmaster was not intrigued by any of your current prospects."

The witch rolled her eyes, then picked up the stack with a frown. "Why are there six?"

"Pardon?"

"I only gave you four letters, but these two..." Hermione hurriedly opened them and shook her head. "I've never seen these two before."

"Probably came today," Snape shrugged as he distributed essays into their appropriate stacks.

A knot formed in her stomach. "He read them before I did?!"

"I presume he felt he had your permission."

"Permission?! You were supposed to ask about these," she stood and shook the original four letters, "not tell him he could open everything!"

"I did only as you bid," Severus shook his head, "but if you invite the vampire in, he'll make himself at home."

"What?"

Folding his arms, he turned to face her. "Next time, perhaps you'll bother to listen when I tell you not to touch the flame."

Her jaw dropped. "Perhaps you'll bother to explain why instead of just shoving my hand in the bloody fire!"

Tossing the letters in his direction, she stormed toward her room. "I had more privacy in the bloody dorm!"

As her door slammed shut, Severus glared at Lady Selwyn's disapproving portrait then ripped open the door to his lab. "I presume that's a no on dinner, then."

xxxXxxx

"Do people honestly believe Snape kept his hands (and potions) to himself for more than decade? That Miss Malfoy and the current Mrs. Snape were the only (un)willing participants in his extracurriculars?" - Natalie Gerberts

"Who are these people casting aspersions on Master Snape? While not everyone's favorite professor, he's a good one and an even better Head of House. He may be strict in enforcing policy, but I have never seen nor heard of any inappropriate activity with his students. I, for one, am happy he's been found by True Love." – Mariella Blishwick

Folding away her newspaper, Hermione picked up her tea and studied her husband at the Head Table. One could hardly tell by his countenance that his reputation was being publicly debated in the opinion pages. Laria Malfoy's response had yet to appear, but many of his former students had picked up their pens in defense. Despite a few insinuations, no one had publicly admitted to engaging in any sort of romantic entanglement with the man.

At least not yet. Hermione winced, then rubbed her forehead. It was unfair of her to think such things, especially when few of her classmates seemed to pay it much mind. Granted, they mostly assumed no one would be that desperate to raise their grade, despite recent history. Interestingly, Sharlin Lavery had not piped up anywhere, but she supposed the humiliation of having the public know of her failed seduction and subsequent expulsion was deterrent enough. Or was there more to that story? Had Snape given her some indication that sexual advances would be welcomed? Had she heard of past incidents but simply wasn't his type?

"You don't have some sort of telepathic link, do you?"

"What?"

Parvati grinned conspiratorially and leaned in. "With Professor Snape. You've been staring at him so intently, and he keeps glancing at you – very subtly, of course, but I can tell. Are you talking to him?"

"Oh. No, I…" Hermione panicked, concerned that might be a documented trait amongst soul mates. Vowing to spend more time reading up on the subject, she cleared her throat. "I was just thinking through something for class. I hadn't even realized I was looking at him."

"Ohhh!" Parvati giggled. "That's so sweet!"

"Oi, Patil," Ginny glanced around. "No offense, but where's your louder half? I haven't heard her all morning."

"Lav?" the girl gestured down the table, where Harry and Ron sat. "Wrapped around your brother."

The redhead gagged loudly. "Gross."

Hermione gave a deep, suffering sigh. It was hard enough having cramps and 'marital discord' without having to deal with Ron's behavior or Ginny's hypocrisy after spending months secretly holding hands and playing footsie with Harry at meals. Honestly, she wished Ginny had sat with the boys instead of taking pity on her. She was hardly in the mood for conversation.

"Don't mind her," Ginny smirked. "She's just jealous she can't fool around at the Head Table anymore."

With a glare, Hermione snapped open her newspaper again and disappeared behind it. She was determined not to think about fooling around with her arsehole husband, or him fooling around with anyone else.

Although, didn't Dumbledore say something about Snape admiring intelligent witches? She chewed her lip, recalling the murderous glare Snape had sent the Headmaster's way after Skeeter's article. What did he mean by that? How many witches did Snape 'admire'? If he was behaving inappropriately, why didn't Dumbledore do anything about it?

Maybe the same reason you're now engaged in this farse; he needed a spy more than he needed an impeccable instructor.

Dumbledore did not seem to care about his students to the degree he portrayed, and Snape was a spy trained to hide his involvement in questionable activities. Just because no one had confessed a liaison with him did not mean no one had. There were many ways to keep someone quiet – some more nefarious than others, and all likely within his purview.

xxxXxxx

After being escorted to their quarters after class, Hermione slunk into the bathroom, grabbed a pain potion, then retreated to her bedroom. Kicking off her shoes, she drank half the vial and placed the rest in her bedside table. She glared at the magazine she had accordingly disposed of, then slammed the drawer shut and flopped back on her bed.

A few minutes later, she sat up and reopened the drawer. She picked up the magazine to reread yet again but paused at revealing the envelope beneath it. Her mother had sent the package of baby things almost a week ago, yet the only thing she had done with the accompanying letter was stash it away to read later.

"Well, it can't get much worse, can it?" The witch took a deep breath before cracking open the envelope.

Dear Hermione,

No matter where you are or what you do, your father and I will always love you.

Having had the holiday to reflect and discuss, we came to a difficult decision. While we appreciate efforts toward our safety, we feel you have not been entirely truthful regarding your marriage and relationship with your professor. We cannot rationalize it and could see in your eyes that you were hiding something. I have explained to you our concerns, providing you several opportunities to come clean, yet you refuse. In fact, you seem to be deliberately antagonizing us, which does little to convince us of the maturity of your decisions. It is clear you neither desire nor value our efforts to ensure your safety, so we will not trouble you further. Perhaps after you have had some time to live with the consequences of your choices, you will reconsider our position.

When you are ready to be honest, we will be here to listen. If you need help, we will do what we can to aid you. Until either case comes to be, we wish you the best and hope you continue to be happy with your situation.

Her mother again assured her of their love, but Hermione could scarcely read it. She knew they would be angry about the marriage and irritated by her cheeky comments, but she had not anticipated they would essentially cut ties with her.

Inhaling sharply, she returned the letter to its envelope and tucked it back in the drawer. With tears in her eyes, she curled up and pulled the covers over herself. Crookshanks leapt onto the bed, purring loudly as he nestled in beside his witch.

xxxXxxx

Hermione tapped her fingers on her arms as she waited for Transfiguration to begin. The Prophet had finally published Laria's denial after letting the suspense build for days in the opinion section. Now the whispers in the hallways were louder – apparently no one thought it believable that an attractive witch could have had any interest in Snape.

Slights against her appearance were hardly new, but she was feeling particularly sensitive. She had done more tossing and turning than actual sleeping the past few nights. Harry and Ron were still shutting her out, and her husband was spending most of his evenings down in the lab. When he was present, he certainly was not pleasant.

"Would you knock it off?" Draco huffed. "The sun's barely come up, and you're already annoying me."

"Then go sit somewhere else."

"Would if I could."

She glared at him. "Daphne can babysit. Go."

The blond shook his head and took out his notebook.

"Why can't Daphne?" Hermione sat forward and turned to him. "Does this have anything to do with today's front page?"

Draco rolled his eyes but refused to answer.

"Let me guess. Daddy told you to make it look like we're a united front. No concerns or hard feelings between the Malfoys and Snapes."

The boy exhaled loudly. "Of course not. Mother wrote."

Hermione snorted and closed her eyes. "I think I liked it better when you hated me."

"Don't get too down, Granger," he grumbled. "I still hate you."

The witch smirked, then leaned in closer. "Do you believe her?"

"What?"

"Your cousin's story. Do you believe it?"

His eyes pinched. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I wouldn't put it past a Malfoy to lie to protect their reputation."

Draco glowered and folded his arms. "Fuck off, Granger."

"It's Snape now, as you love to remind people." Hermione quieted as a few students passed, then cleared her throat. "It wasn't in the paper, but she told me she would've married him had he bothered to ask."

His eyebrow raised. "Grandfather just rolled over in his grave."

She frowned at the amused quirk of his mouth. "Why? He's good enough to be your godfather but not your uncle?"

Draco sighed and shook his head. "I doubt grandfather was too chuffed about that either, but he wasn't marrying in."

"Because of his 'unfortunate origins'?" Hermione questioned. "What does that even mean? What's so terrible about the Snape line that no one wants to talk about?"

As Professor McGonagall called the class to attention, Draco eyed her strangely. When the professor's back was turned, he whispered, "The hell are you on about? There is no Snape line."

"What?" she hissed.

"Are you daft? The Snapes are Muggles."

"What!?"

The entire class looked up at her exclamation. At the head of the room, McGonagall pinched her lips in censure. "Madam Snape. Since you seem to be having difficulties hearing the lesson, I suggest you come down to the front row. Miss MacDougal, I'm sure you're willing to switch places with Madam Snape."

As both girls hesitated, the professor gave a stern smile. "Now."

Hermione heard Draco curse under his breath as she packed up her materials. Eyes stinging, she descended the steps, passing a glaring Morag MacDougal before taking a seat beside Lisa Turpin, who had replaced her as Head Girl. To add to the humiliation, the class remained quiet during the entire process.

"I trust there will be no further interruptions," Minerva stared directly at Hermione, who sheepishly nodded.

xxxXxxx

The rest of the day provided ample time for Hermione to reconsider everything she knew about her husband. Her husband the halfblood. The halfblood Head of Slytherin. The halfblood Death Eater.

Draco had confirmed it in Arithmancy as had Ginny during lunch. And they had both laughed at her for being an oblivious Muggleborn. How could I possibly know that? I don't know all the Wizarding lines! After all his lectures on pureblood customs and history, how am I to know he's half-Muggle?! Why wouldn't he bloody tell me?

Feeling incredibly stupid, Hermione stared out the library window. She thought of his Muggle home in the Muggle neighborhood, with Muggle books on its bookshelves. Of the apparent ease with which he dressed as a Muggle and the Muggle money he happened to have in his pocket to pay for their impromptu lunch. Of his use of a Muggle pen to write in his book. That all suddenly made sense. But the rest did not.

She could not understand why a halfblood would become a Death Eater or ever be accepted as one by the others. Somehow, he must have proved to them that he had completely forsaken that half of his heritage. If he was that desperate to hide his parentage, he was hardly going to admit it to her.

Now she thought of how uncomfortable (or disgusted?) Snape had been in her home, at least until he had smugly toyed with her parents. Of the implied cruelty of his home's wards toward Muggle neighbors. Of the bitterness in his tone when he described the dark past between Muggles and magical folk. Of his irritation with her when she was ignorant of some pureblood custom or history. Of his derision over how his parents had met.

Snape had shared very few things about his family. While she had felt sorry for him at the time, now those vague statements took on new meaning in her head. Was his father undeserving of his mother's deference because he was Muggle, and she a witch? Does his mother's side not recognize him because he's the half-Muggle son of a blood traitor? Does he refuse to acknowledge his father's side because they're Muggles?

Hermione crossed her arms, wondering if that was the real reason Snape wanted to keep their marriage in name only. Maybe he wanted her to regain her reputation when it was safe, or maybe he wanted to regain his – to prove he had not sullied his heritage any further. Sharlin Lavery was also Muggle-born. Perhaps he had not turned her down because of his upstanding character but because of his prejudice. And maybe no one else was speaking up because they did not want to admit to having dallied with a halfblood.

Her stomach rolled at the thought. She did not want to think these things but felt he had been lying to her – by omission, if not directly outright – since the start. How could she have been so gullible to have developed feelings for him?

You don't have feelings for him. She tugged at her hair. You just like kissing him. That's not the same. You trusted him; you were grateful to him for –

Hermione stumbled backward as a terrible thought struck her. She hardly knew the first thing about ward design, and she only had his word that he placed wards to protect her parents. What if he had only been pretending?

Suddenly nauseous, she backed into a bookshelf and covered her face. Stop it! You cannot have been that wrong about everything! You haven't slept well, and you're paranoid. Calm down!

xxxXxxx

Severus groaned as the Deputy Headmistress pulled out the seat beside him. He had intentionally at the end of the table to avoid unnecessary chatter.

"Oh, hush," Minerva placed her napkin on her lap. "I was beginning to think you forgot we serve an evening meal."

"The Headmaster already reminded me of my contractual obligations, so you can save your breath."

She quirked her lips and picked up her fork. "Nice to know he occasionally manages his staff."

"Certain members of staff he manages more than others."

Minerva snickered. "Certain members of staff require more management."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Is that why you're sitting down here? I require further management?"

"Opinions appear mixed on that."

"I'm surprised you haven't barreled down my door."

The witch chuckled sadly. "I know you better than that. And I know those defending you. I don't know any of those leveling accusations."

"I'd imagine pseudonyms are not uncommon when publicly expressing opinions."

"Have you been writing into the opinion pages, Severus Snape?" McGonagall teased. At his scowl, she patted his arm. "Your defenders aren't hiding behind false names, and that says more than enough. Now, I meant to speak with you at lunch, but you never showed."

"Gibbons decided to blow a cauldron."

The witch clucked as she picked up her teacup. "That boy gives Finnegan a run for his money."

"Mmm," he grunted. "At least he's Filius's problem at the end of the day."

Minerva snorted in her cup. "Small mercies. However, you and I do have a different problem to sort."

"What else is new?"

"Yes, well, it's more your problem than mine seeing as it involves your wife and your godson."

Severus sank back in his seat. "Christ."

"I've given warnings, taken points, separated them, and still had to hold them both after today. One more outburst, and I'll have them both in detention. Perhaps you might drive the point home?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose before glaring at Slytherin table. "I will remind Draco of his promise to behave."

Minerva huffed. "Though it pains me to admit it, he isn't always the antagonist. Sometimes he's merely reacting. It might be wiser to permanently appoint someone else her chaperone. Ridiculous practice as it is."

His gaze swung over to the Gryffindor table, but Hermione was not sitting with her friends. She did not appear to be at the table at all. Sitting forward, he re-scanned the benches, then looked back to his own House table where Draco and the Greengrass girl were both eating.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Severus debated whether he should wait for his wife to turn up or go look for her. According to Lady Selwyn's portrait, Hermione had not yet returned to their quarters when he stopped in after class. Since she had a free period before supper, he assumed she had worked in the library before going down to the Great Hall.

Yet, you didn't notice she wasn't bloody here. Stomach twisting, he shoved back from the table and stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To find the little hellion I married."

"Oh!" Minerva glanced at her House table in surprise. "Surely, she's just lost track of time studying."

"Surely."

"If you need assistance –"

"I had better not," Severus growled before leaving the dais. As he made his way up to the library, he tried not to think the worst. He knew his lack of sleep and anxiety over the Dark Lord's impending deadline was making him see shadows where there were none.

Madam Pince was not at the desk, but a pair of Ravenclaws were working at the first table. He dipped his head in acknowledgment before sweeping toward the back of the library where he knew Hermione preferred to work. With each empty table and nook he passed, however, his heart rate quickened. He even checked the Restricted Section to no avail.

Perching against a table, he wiped his face. The girl had promised not to hide from him again, but he knew she was upset over his handling of the Malfoys and her lack of privacy. He had also been rather short-tempered this week, and if Draco had been running his mouth again…

As it was sleeting outside, Severus doubted she was on the grounds. Before resigning himself to the swarm of house-elves in the kitchens, he decided to re-check his quarters in case she had returned in the meantime.

His office was undisturbed, but thankfully her bookbag was on the sofa, and he could hear the bathroom faucet running. Anxiety shifting to irritation, Severus crossed his arms while he waited for her to emerge.

"Holy mother!" Hermione startled when she opened the door. "Why do you do that?!"

"Is there a reason you're skipping dinner?"

She folded her arms, mirroring him. "You skipped lunch."

"Because a third-year prefers pyrotechnics to potions, and I had to decontaminate the classroom to prevent poisoning the first-years. Do you have similar justification?"

Hermione huffed. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten dinner in the Great Hall all week."

"Neither have you!"

"For which I've had my hand slapped. Now, shall we venture –"

"Feel free," Hermione moved toward her room. "I said I'm not hungry."

Severus expelled a heated breath. "I understand you aren't feeling well this week –"

The witch froze.

"— but for the sake of appearances, I think you can manage one –"

She whirled around. "Are you tracking my menstrual cycle now?"

His face screwed up. "Merlin's sake! Between your run on my pain relievers and your attitude this week, it doesn't take an Arithmancer to deduce."

"My attitude?" Hermione scoffed. "You must be menstruating all the time, then!"

The wizard snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous!" she strode forward. "Ridiculous is me having an attitude because I'm bleeding, not because you broke your promise! Not because you lied to me!"

Straightening to his full height, Severus cocked his head. "I did what?"

"You gave your word that you wouldn't take points from my friends because I upset you."

"I –"

"Perjury? From first year? I hope those ten points were important to you, Professor, because they cost me my friends!" Hermione wiped at her angry tears and backed away. Her voice was quiet as she shrugged, "But what do you care if the mudblood has any friends?"

"Damn it, I told you not to use that word!" Severus pointed at her.

"Why not? I'm not ashamed of my heritage."

His stomach flipped as the hair stood up on the back of his neck. "Excuse me?"

Hermione refolded her arms. "You're a halfblood."

"I'm well aware of what I am."

"Well, it was news to me!" she leaned in. "You never bothered to tell me!"

The wizard scowled, crossing his arms. "What bloody difference does it make?"

"How am I supposed to trust you if you lie to me?!"

"I didn't lie to you, you –"

"You certainly haven't been honest, either! You know practically everything about me –"

"Not by bloody choice!"

"—and I know next to nothing about you!"

"You don't need to –"

"For all I know, you hated your father because he was Muggle!"

A cold, sharp silence fell as both parties realized what had been said. Her eyes widened; his narrowed. She instinctively backed up; he stalked forward.

"Because he was MUGGLE?!" Severus repeated slowly, growing louder with every syllable.

Hermione gasped as her back hit the wall.

"NO!" Caitriona Selwyn shouted from her portrait. "Go on! Get out of here! GO!"

Chest heaving, the wizard stormed out of their quarters. Frozen in place, his wife stared at the door as it slammed shut.

"Stupid girl!" Caitriona collapsed into her painted chair, shaking her head.

Hermione's heart raced as she slowly sank to the floor. Drawing her knees to her chest, she tried to slow her breathing. The look in his eyes had been dangerously dark and feral. After three months living with him – and quarreling with him most of that time – she had finally seen her husband the Death Eater, and he was terrifying.

xxxXxxx

Though the sleet stung his face, Severus kept walking until the rage and adrenaline faded. With nothing left to power him forward, he dropped to his knees in a garden plot and hung his head. His hands shook as they dug into the cold dirt.

"What were you going to do?" he hissed, closing his eyes. All he had seen then was red; all he could see now was himself advancing on his frightened, cornered wife, shouting in her face. If the damned portrait had not screamed at him…

"The fuck would you have done?!"

Tears of shame trickled down his face as he stared down at his hands. Where had they been? Had they been at his side? Folded to his chest? Or had he raised them? He could not remember.

"Fuck!" The wizard sank onto his bottom and heaved in a deep breath.

'You heard what she said! Bitch knew what was comin' to her provokin' me like that!'

Nausea swept over Severus as his father's voice echoed in his head. Granger may have been out of line, but he was responsible for his reaction. He let his temper fly unchecked even without the excuse of being shitfaced like his father.

Staring into the dark sky, a thought niggled at the back of his mind. If anyone were watching, there would be questions about why he was moping about in the dark. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he knelt forward and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. He transfigured it into a small basket before plucking leaves from the nearby winterbells. The optimal harvest was still days away, but he doubted anyone else would know better. He could sacrifice a few plants to protect their cover.

As he worked, the wizard cursed everything and everyone that had brought them to this point. He should have pushed back harder when Dumbledore suggested this nightmare because he knew it would never work. He did not have patience, sympathy, or time enough to deal with himself, let alone anyone else. The pressure he was under was only increasing, and his control would weaken until it snapped and consumed him. He should never have let Dumbledore shove Granger in the middle of it all.

xxxXxxx

Unable to sleep, Hermione pulled the blanket to her chin as she stared into her dark bedroom. She kept replaying their argument; each time, she felt guiltier about what she had said.

Though she still believed he acted the arse, she could admit he was right about some things. He never claimed to be pureblood; she had assumed it. He had hardly demanded to know her history or family; she had dragged him into it. It should not make a difference if he was halfblood; she was the one who thought the worst of him for it.

Hermione sniffled and turned her face into her pillow. She could not comprehend how her mind had twisted things, and now her stomach twisted while she thought of the consequences. The sudden change in Snape's demeanor had frightened her, of course, but she did not believe she was in physical danger like Lady Selwyn's portrait argued. Having had time to reflect on it, she saw him not as a predator advancing on prey but a wounded animal lashing out.

Often when she yelled at him, he seemed halfway amused. Even tonight, he was relatively calm as he countered her arguments until she brought up his father. At his rage, she knew how wrong she had been. She was now certain he had previously minimized the situation with his father instead of exaggerating it. She should have recognized it earlier, especially having seen how he tried to dismiss his pain after being tortured.

Things made painful sense now. A halfblood sorted into Slytherin would probably play up their magical heritage just to fit in, but to become a Death Eater… there had to be something more between him and his father.

Why couldn't you bloody see that before?! As frustrated tears spilled down her cheeks, Hermione wished her husband would come back, so she could apologize.

xxxXxxx

Eyebrow raised; Poppy Pomfrey entered the small brewing lab attached to the infirmary to find multiple cauldrons bubbling. "Severus. What have you done to your lab?"

Snape lifted his head and stretched his back.

The Mediwitch frowned at his silence and peeked into a few cabinets. "Merlin's sake, what have you done to my lab?"

"Improved it," he rubbed his forehead.

"Debatable," Poppy mumbled over a cauldron.

Severus sighed and glanced back at her. "It was so disorganized in here, you'd have to use an Accio to find anything."

The witch snorted. "I knew exactly where everything was, and now… Good gracious, it must've taken you all night!"

At his grunt, Poppy moved in front of his station and folded her arms. "And why exactly have you spent the night reorganizing my cupboards?"

"Because I couldn't fucking find anything."

"And what's wrong with your lab?"

Severus shook his head. "Other things are brewing there. I thought it best not to tempt Fate."

Poppy narrowed her eyes. "While I appreciate you replenishing my stock, you did not need to stay up all night doing so."

Shrugging, he slid off his stool and executed a series of stirs.

"Is there a particular reason you're not sleeping?"

"There are several particular reasons."

Poppy sighed and leaned against the counter. "And you won't take a potion?"

"No. For a very unpredictable and demanding particular reason."

The witch nodded sadly. "If you need a break, Severus, I can order –"

"Do you have complaints about the quality of my brews?" Severus snapped.

"Of course not, you seething perfectionist," Poppy huffed. "I just meant that I would rather stoop to ordering inferior brews from St. Mungo's labs than overwork you. Especially if spares your poor wife from dealing with any extra vitriol."

The wizard released a long, slow breath. "Poppy, I am fine. I am quite used to my workload."

"Yes, but you have a wife now. Regardless of how that came to be, you cannot spend all your spare time holed up in the lab. She deserves better than that. As do you."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm certain my wife prefers I spend more time brewing than less."

"If you're your brooding, gloomy self, undoubtedly," the Mediwitch stepped forward, "but if you show her who you really are underneath all the sharp edges and scowls, how could she not want more of you?"

Severus crossed his arms in discomfort. "I assure you, the sharp edges and scowls are more appealing than what's underneath."

As a chime sounded in the infirmary, Poppy swatted his arm and pointed at him. "That is not true. Let her in, and she will agree with me. It's obvious something is building between the two of you; you should feed it, not starve it. Oh, and tell her to come see me."

"Why?"

"Because while you may neglect your health, I will not allow you to neglect hers."

"Like you're neglecting whatever crisis just came through your doors?" Severus sneered. When she left in a tittering huff, he held steady long enough to finish his stirs before collapsing on his stool and tugging on his hair.

xxxXxxx

Hearing movement in his office for the first time all weekend, Hermione tossed her book aside and scrambled up onto her knees on the couch. Her heart pounded as she stared at the door she had intentionally left half open in case he would return. After a moment, she slipped off the couch and quietly crept over to the doorway. She held her breath, watching her husband's back as he gathered essays at his desk. Though she had waited more than a day for a chance to apologize, she could not find her voice now.

Without looking up from his task, Severus eventually found his. "Since you believe it your business, I do not hate my father because he was Muggle."

"I know," she whispered.

"He was a drunk… a gambler… an utter wastrel," he punctuated each word by tossing essays in a basket, "but what I hate him for… is how he treated my mother."

As her stomach dropped, Hermione wrapped her arms about herself.

"Instead of taking any personal accountability, he blamed his misfortunes on my mother's unnatural abilities." Severus swallowed before continuing, "And he frequently sought to rectify the situation by beating the Devil out of her."

The young witch squeezed her eyes shut as her cheeks burned with shame.

"Until one morning," Severus placed an inkwell in the basket, "she simply never woke. Her brain had bled and swelled overnight. And would you like to know her crime… so egregious it warranted her death?"

Tears falling, Hermione adamantly shook her head. She knew how terribly wrong she had been about him; she did not need to know anything more. She was not ready to know anything more.

"He discovered she had been pilfering his booze money… so she could buy her son a gift for his majority." Severus drew in a long breath, straightened, and cleared his throat after picking up his basket of supplies. "I will not be dining in the Great Hall tonight, so do what you will."