Witch Hunt

8

Four days.

It had taken all of four days for Snape to track her down to the house in Godric's Hollow.

Hermione had been careful about not using magic other than setting her wards. She had rationed her food so as to avoid the comings and goings of too many people. She had remained vigilant, going to sleep late at night, opting for the sofa near the door should she need to make a quick escape.

Terrified of being stolen away in the dead of night, the witch was plagued with nightmares. Horrible dreams that had her screaming herself awake, startling her from uneasy slumber. She was certain she looked as horrible as she felt.

Dread grew in the pit of her stomach and threatened to come up her throat every time shadows moved across the curtains or danced in her peripheral vision. Figments of her imagination taunting her.

Expecting Harry's arrival soon, she did not think twice about answering the door in the early afternoon. After all, he was the only person who really knew she was there. Kate had given the address, though they had never checked in with her to let her know.

She nearly slammed the door shut. She should have. Fear paralysed her as she stared straight at the mass of black wool before her. Slowly trailing her gaze upward, she swallowed thickly as she took in his hard stare. His brow was raised, as if he was surprised that she had answered at all.

Trembling, she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. He had yet to say anything, just standing there at the door. She took a slow breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "How-"

He cut her off. "Potter."

Her lips curled downward, her jaw clenched as she bit out the words. "Why that horrible wit-"

"Harry Potter." He said curtly. Seeing the confusion in her face, his brow raised further and he gestured to the house. "May I come in, Miss Granger?"

Unable to say anything else, she stepped aside to grant him access. He made his way to the living room and folded himself quite elegantly into the armchair, gesturing that she sit too. When it appeared that she was not going to move any time soon, he stood, approaching her slowly as one would a feral animal. He held out both hands to show they were empty.

Swallowing thickly, she slid her fingers across his palm hesitantly. He took a slow step backward, encouraging her to follow. Hesitantly, she followed him to the sofa and sat on the very edge, ready to bolt if she needed to.

He cleared his throat. "I will not harm you," he reassured, trying to catch her eyes. Delicately placing a finger beneath her chin, he angled her face upward, forcing her to look at him. She flinched at his touch, though did not move away. "We have much to discuss and very little time, I'm afraid."

She nodded, trying to avert her gaze. She could not bear to look into his eyes. Impossibly dark, mesmerising eyes that one could get lost in. There were flecks of paler brown in his eyes, something she had never noticed before. They weren't just endless black, more like a starry sky late at night. "Yes." She replied.

He lowered his hand from her face, leaning away. "Mister Potter alerted me of your whereabouts earlier today." He said, sensing her confusion, he continued quickly before she could interrupt him. "It appears no one had been aware of the clause on the new law. Refusal to obey would result in a long term sentence in Azkaban."

Hermione gasped, one hand coming to her lips, the other squeezing Snape's hand. She had yet to let him go. Why she had still gripped onto his hand, she was not certain. Something about him showing up on the doorstep was all too surreal. She perhaps hoped that by holding on to him, it might cement her in reality. "Azkaban? That's mental."

The Potions' Master dipped his head in response. "Katherine was as equally oblivious. She wanted to help you run, though failed to understand the consequences."

She smiled. "They're awfully similar aren't they? Kate and Harry."

Again, the man nodded once. "Indeed. Insufferably stubborn and impulsive."

The witch smiled fondly at the thought of her friend. "Act first, think later. Potter genetics, I suppose."

He looked about the room, inspecting the furniture and the surrounding space. The drawn curtains, the blankets on the sofa. "Did you think I would hurt you?" He asked curiously, his brow furrowing. There was a line between his brows, lines of worry etched into his features from years of living under hard stress and the world's two most megamaniacal wizards in modern history.

Suddenly, Hermione found herself wanting to smooth out the wrinkle of confusion. Surprised by her own thought, she shook her head, sending away the idea. She shrugged. "I didn't know what to think. I was afraid. You were always so mean."

His thumb brushed across the back of her hand, his gaze softening. "Was I not kind to you in our letters? Did I not shower you with gentle turns of phrase in order to gain your trust, your favour?"

She bit her lip, lowering her eyes to their hands. Her fingers twitched against his palm. It was strange to think she was holding hands with her former teacher. A man she had been corresponding with for weeks on end. "Your letters were lovely." She admitted. "I suppose I was surprised to find out who you were. Everyone knew but me."

He let out a slow sigh, shaking his head. "They never will change, that lot. So meddlesome in the affairs of others."

Hermione shrugged. "How did you find the house?" She was morbidly curious, she had been careful with her charms. She was good at magic, she had never been found before.

He smirked. "You are a gifted witch, Miss Granger," he said gently, wickedness glimmering in his eyes. "They were clever charms, strong. Not quite strong enough if you knew what to look for, which I did."

She looked away. He was complimenting her. He had called her magic clever and strong. It was quite the compliment, given his history. His need for excellence.

She pulled away her hands, knotting them in her lap. "What would marriage to you mean, exactly, sir?"

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face as he observed her. She was a pretty little thing, having grown out of her bushy hair and buck teeth. Though still so very young. Forced to marry her most hated teacher. He almost felt sorry for her. Watching her bite her lip as she awaited his response, he could not help himself from tugging it free with his thumb. Wiggling her lip from between her teeth with the slightest of touches. Shocked by the gesture, she gasped. "Severus," he corrected, as she recovered from her shock. "You may as well address me by my first name."

From his pocket, he produced a roll of parchment. A wedding contract with the official Ministry stamp. "A simple signature in the presence of an officiant will do. You will be able to continue your life as you wish until they require a child from us." He paused, gauging her reaction. "I will not ask you for more."

A signature on a piece of paper tying her to Snape for the rest of her life as his legal wife. It wasn't so bad. If she was being honest, it could have been far worse. She could have been ordered to live with him, become a housewife with a gaggle of children. A baby machine producing offspring at his will.

A signature on a slip of paper was far less horrid a fate as she had been expecting. "And suppose I would ask more from you. A place to live, or... a book recommendation?"

A smile graced the corner of his mouth at her question. Leave it to Hermione Granger, the eternal bookworm to ask of him a book recommendation in exchange for their very binding marriage. "You may have as many recommendations as you'd like, Miss Granger."

She nodded. "That sounds fine, sir- Severus. When do we have to marry?" She asked.

He met her eyes, his tone sullen. "In one week's time."