The Laws of Love

Chapter 3

Hermione left the Great Hall after dinner and headed for the dungeons. Snape hadn't come up for dinner, but that wasn't very unusual. He wasn't what you would call a people-person, and more often than not ate dinner alone in his rooms.

She walked into the Potion's Classroom, and was surprised to see him working over a cauldron.

"Poppy's supplies are running low," he said to her questioning look.

She nodded, and just stood there awkwardly as he bottled the finished potion.

He labeled the bottle, put it on a shelf, and turned to her with a scowl.

"If you're waiting on me to drop to one knee and plead for your hand, I must inform you that you're wasting both our time," he hissed.

She snorted.

"So you do know about the contract," she said, feeling relieved.

"You think the Headmaster would do something like this without consulting me first?" he demanded, eyes flashing.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course he would." she said, as she crossed her arms over her chest and returned his glare with a smirk.

He blinked and turned away from her.

"Is there something else you need, Professor?" he asked staring at his newly bottled potion.

"Yes. I believe there are many things we need to discuss," she said, sternly.

He took in her resolved expression and sighed.

"Very well," he groused, and motioned for her to follow him through his office and into his chambers.

She sat in a chair in his sitting room, and watched him pour them each a glass of fire whiskey. She'd never touched the stuff before, but there was a first time for everything.

Snape handed her a glass and sat down across from her.

She sniffed at the liquid then shrugged and took a gulp.

He grabbed the glass before she could drop it, and pounded on her back as she nearly coughed up her lungs.

Hermione pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes, nose, and mouth, glaring at him in annoyance.

"You could have warned me," she accused with a sniff.

"I could have," he admitted without remorse.

She grabbed the glass back from him, forcefully.

They glared at each other for a few more minutes, before Hermione looked away.

"So, I haven't signed the contract yet, I wanted to make sure that you knew about it and were willing first," she said, finally.

"Willing is a very strong word, Professor," he responded.

"So, you're doing this against your will," she said, frowning at the disappointment she felt.

He gave her a look.

"And you're not?"

"That's different, I don't have a choice," she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"You think I do?" he demanded.

There was another stare off, and again Hermione was the first to give in.

"I understand that you are doing me a favor, but I'll not have you throwing it in my face every chance you get for the rest of our lives," she said quietly, refusing to look at him.

The rest of our lives?

Professor Snape was taken aback. He really hadn't given much thought to what this must be like for her. Binding herself to him for as long as they lived was a prospect that would strike terror in most witches. Yet she was handling it gracefully, and it was clear that she had already accepted it. She'd already accepted him.

"Very well, Professor Granger, once we're married I'll not mention it again."

She glanced up at him, studying his face as if trying to decide if he was mocking her. Finally, she nodded, and settled back in her seat.

"I think we should get married soon. Draco won't be happy when he finds out I'm not choosing him. He might be able to pull some strings to stop us," she said, slowly sipping her whiskey.

"How long can you wait before signing the contract?" he asked.

"Two weeks, but I don't want to wait that long."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"I'd have thought that you'd want to put it off as long as possible."

Hermione shook her head.

"I want it all over and done with. We need to focus on keeping Hogwarts open, and minimize the distractions that this stupid law is providing for our students," she said, vehemently.

Snape nodded slowly.

"Very well. Albus can marry us tomorrow if you'd like," he offered, refilling both of their glasses.

Hermione thought that over and shook her head.

"No, we should wait 'till the weekend. Friday after classes would be best. We'd have the whole weekend to get used to each other, and it shouldn't cause too much of a disruption for the students."

Again he nodded.

"You are welcome to move into the dungeon rooms with me, but don't expect me to move anywhere," he said, giving her a defiant look.

She giggled, obviously the whiskey was beginning to affect her.

"I wouldn't dream of taking you from your beloved dungeons, Professor," she teased.

His lips twitched.

"I think you've had enough to drink," he said taking the glass from her hand.

She pouted but didn't ask for it back.

"I'm keeping my name," she said, suddenly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"It will be too confusing for the students to have two Professor Snapes, don't you think?"

"Oh, well, you can still allow them to call you Professor Granger, but legally your name will be Snape. That's just how it works."

Hermione frowned at that, but didn't think it was worth arguing about.

"What happens if Albus finds a new Potion's Master? Will you leave Hogwarts? Because you know that I won't," she informed him.

"I'd planned on leaving, but I don't have to. There is some independent research I've been wanting to work on and I can do that just as well here as I can anywhere," he said, dismissively.

Hermione gave him a searching look then bit her lip and looked away.

"What is it?" he asked.

"We need to talk about the wedding night," she said, looking very nervous.

He groaned inwardly.

"Must we? We're both adults, Professor Granger, I think we can figure things out."

Hermione blushed and stood up. She picked up the glass of whiskey again, and swallowed the rest, only coughing slightly as it burned her throat.

"Since that night..." she began, and he was alarmed to see that vacant stare again.

"I haven't let another man touch me."

His face remained impassive, but he inclined his head slightly to encourage her to continue.

"It was painful, and humiliating, and afterwards I swore that I'd never allow myself to be at the mercy of a man again."

Severus was very uncomfortable at the emotions that her words evoked.

"I would never hurt you," he heard himself say.

She gave him a small, sad smile.

"I know. That's why I chose you."

She sighed and sat back down in her seat across from him.

"I know that we're not in love, and that the circumstances of our marriage are not at all romantic. However, I was hoping that, just for that night, we could pretend..." she trailed off, looking at the floor.

"Pretend what?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.

She finally met his gaze.

"I want to pretend like we are in love, and that this is what we both want. I think it will make things easier."

He didn't say anything for the longest time. Hermione was afraid he was trying to come up with the best way to let her down.

Finally, he nodded.

"I'll do whatever you need me to do to make it more bearable for you, Professor Granger," he said.

She sighed in relief and gave him a bright smile.

"You should start calling me Hermione."

She yawned and stretched,

"Well, I can't really think of anything else, can you?"

He shook his head.

"Goodnight, then, Professor," she said and left his rooms.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said after she was gone.

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Hermione stumbled back to her room, very dizzy. She hardly ever drank, and when she did, it was never anything stronger than a daiquiri. This fire-whiskey had hit her hard and fast.

She pushed open the door to her chambers, and promptly lost her balance, landing face first on the floor.

"Hermione?"

A concerned Harry rushed over and helped her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione blew at a few strands of hair that had fallen in her eyes, and Harry stepped back at the strong smell of alcohol on her breath.

"I'm good," she said, finally, then sat down on the floor.

Harry groaned.

"Hermione, I needed your advice! Now I'll have to wait 'til tomorrow!"

Hermione was staring at her hands in fascination.

Sighing in resignation, Harry hauled her to her feet and walked her into her bedroom. Hermione gave a sigh of relief as she fell across her bed.

"Why were you drinking?" he asked as he removed her shoes.

"Snape gave me fire whiskey," she said then yawned.

"Snape? What were you doing with that greasy bastard?"

"I'm marrying him!" she proclaimed with a giggle.

"What?!" he demanded.

Hermione suddenly turned serious and her eyes got big.

"Harry? I don't feel so good."

She then threw up on his shoes.

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After summoning a house-elf to clean up the mess and seeing Hermione to bed, Harry trudged back to his rooms feeling a little shell-shocked.

Poor Hermione would have to marry Snape. No wonder she'd gotten drunk. Still, he had to admit that Snape was a better choice than Draco was.

He entered his rooms with a sigh of relief. What a day! His relief quickly turned to annoyance as he surveyed his sitting room covered with gifts from admirers.

How was he ever to gain control of his classes? Death Eaters and Dark Lords he could deal with, giggling girls just perplexed him.

Harry entered his bedroom and studied his reflection in the mirror.

Perhaps if he let himself go, he wouldn't attract so much attention. He could take a page out of Snape's book and stop washing his hair or brushing his teeth. He could be rude and snap at anyone who dared to talk to him.

He grinned imagining the reactions he'd get.

He shook his head and started to undress. Tomorrow he'd talk to Hermione and see if she had any advice.

When Harry crawled into bed, he was suddenly struck by a wave of loneliness. He thought of Ginny and her brilliant red hair and sunny smile. He'd had a crush on her for two years before she died, and he'd never gotten the chance to tell her.

He looked at the empty spot beside him on the bed.

If she'd survived, would she have been here with him now?

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Harry entered the Great Hall the next morning and bit back a grin at the sight of Hermione and Charlie who were both obviously nursing hangovers.

"Rough night?" he asked cheerfully as he sat down on the other side of Hermione.

Charlie reached around to smack him but Harry ducked out of the way and grinned at him.

"Harry, I'm sorry about last night. I don't remember much, but I do remember losing my dinner on your shoes," she said, sheepishly.

"It's alright, Hermione. Although I do need a favor from you," he said, slyly.

Her eyes narrowed, but then she laughed.

"Okay, I guess I owe you," she said with a smile.

"You have to promise to keep this between us. I really don't want Fred and George hearing about this," he said, seriously.

"I won't tell a soul," she promised.

"It's the girls in my class. They keep flirting with me so much that I can't teach."

Hermione laughed, then covered her mouth.

"Sorry, Harry."

He gave a reluctant smile.

"I'd be laughing too if it wasn't happening to me," he admitted.

"So, they're disrupting class? What exactly are they doing?" she asked.

"They wink at me, blow kisses, send me love notes. One girl unbuttoned her shirt so low that, well, let's just say that she didn't leave anything to the imagination," he told her, flushing pink.

"Harry that's awful! What did you do about it?" she demanded, horrified.

He shrugged.

"Nothing. What could I do?"

"Harry, doing nothing is almost as bad as encouraging them. You've got to set them straight. Take away points and hand out detentions with Filch. As long as you put up with it, they'll keep doing it."

Harry cringed.

"I don't want them to hate me," he said, almost whining.

"They won't hate you, Harry. They'll respect you," she said, firmly.

Harry nodded, but didn't look convinced.

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6^th year Slytherin Prefect, Melanie Walsh, walked slowly to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She always dreaded this class because she had no friends in it, and Professor Potter made her extremely nervous.

It didn't help that he was harder on the Slytherins than any other house, it was almost like he had some personal vendetta against them. Not that he'd ever been rude or singled her out in anyway. The only time he'd ever spoken directly to her was a few weeks ago when he had moved her from 6^th year DADA class to 7^th year. He'd seemed impressed by her high scores, and had had her perform a patronus charm for him. At the sight of her very defined mustang patronus, he'd immediately wanted her moved to his 7^th year class.

"I could use a student in that class who actually knew what they were doing," he'd confessed with a small smile.

His beautiful green eyes had sparkled at her, and she knew she must have turned redder than a tomato.

Then those eyes had landed on her Slytherin Prefect badge and all merriment left his face. He'd quickly dismissed her, and hadn't said anything to her since.

Unfortunately, she didn't really know any of the 7^th years, and they'd seemed a bit perturbed when she'd started showing up in their class. But now, most of the students just ignored her. Just like him.

She sighed and went to her seat at the back of the classroom, wishing once again that she could return to the 6^th year class. Who cared if she already knew the 6^th year curriculum? At least she'd be among friends, and wouldn't feel so lonely.

"Are you back again? Really, it's so pathetic the way you pine after Professor Potter," a snide voice said to her after she sat down.

Janet Odom was tall, blonde, and had curves in all the right places. The 7^th year Gryffindor loved to tease Melanie every chance she got, even though it was obvious to everyone that Janet fancied the Professor herself.

Melanie turned to Janet and gave her a foul look.

"Oh, yeah? I'm not the one who gives him a strip tease every day," she retorted, looking pointedly at the other girl's skirt that was four inches higher than regulation.

Janet flushed and opened her mouth to respond, but then Professor Potter entered the room, and she quickly made her way to her seat in the front row.

Janet slowly crossed her long, tan legs, and Professor Potter suddenly seemed unable to look away from them.

Melanie gave a snort of disgust, and opened her text. As she pretended to read she thought about how much she hated Janet, and then realized that she was jealous of the Gryffindor. Not that Melanie really fancied Professor Potter, but Janet was gorgeous. Something that Melanie would never be.

Guys didn't go for the girls that were skinny, short, and pale like her. Her long baby-fine, dark hair was always in a boring braid, and her hazel eyes were much too large for her face. It didn't matter that her robes were the best money could buy, being from an old pureblood family made her more of an outcast to people like Janet.

She looked up just in time to see Janet lean forward enough to give Professor Potter and eyeful. The teacher allowed his gaze to linger on her chest for a moment before resuming his lecture.

Melanie rolled her eyes. Men!

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"So, I'm deducting five points from Gryffindor for your inappropriate behavior in class today and if it happens again I'll give you detention with Filch," Harry said, unable to look the girl in the eye.

"Yes S-sir," Janet said bursting into tears and running from the office.

Harry sighed and then jumped as he heard a suspiciously loud thud.

He stuck his head out of his office door to see one of his students, Melanie Walsh, lying on the floor beside the wall gasping for breath.

"Miss Walsh? Are you okay? What happened?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Melanie took a few gulping breaths of air before attempting to talk.

"That cow, Janet Odom, knocked me down," she said, agitatedly.

"Well, you seem to be okay now," he said, awkwardly.

"Oh yeah. All except for the huge bruise on my back," she scowled at him.

"I'm not the one who bumped into you," he retorted defensively.

Melanie smiled briefly because he sounded very un-teacher like and then cleared her throat.

"I was actually coming to talk to you about something," she said, suddenly becoming nervous.

"Well, come on in then," he said leading her into the office, and shutting the door behind them.

She sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk while he perched on the corner of the desk.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, looking bored.

"You can move me back to your 6^th year class, that's what you can do," she said, peeved at his lack of attention.

"Why? You've got the highest grade in the class," he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Yes, well with students like Janet Odom that's not much of an accomplishment."

His eyes narrowed.

"Professor, I'm miserable in that class. And I used to really enjoy it! Now I dread it. I have no friends in there, and if I can speak honestly, you don't teach it very well."

"Ten points-"

"But that's not your fault! The students don't pay attention to the lessons because they're too busy winking and blowing kisses at you," she interrupted him.

He just stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"It's distracting to you and to students like me that actually want to learn," she pointed out, and then leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms across her chest.

Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times.

"Look, I understand why you're upset, but I promise that I'm taking care of it. Janet has been warned, and starting tomorrow I'll be taking away house points and assigning detentions for behavior like that," he explained.

She gave him a skeptical look that reminded him vividly of Hermione.

He sighed looking at the ceiling then returned his gaze to hers.

"Give me one week. I promise you'll see marked improvement. If you're still unhappy, I'll move you back to the 6^th year class, deal?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"Deal," she said, giving his hand a firm shake.

She looked down at their hands then back up at his face.

"You really did lose a hand," she stated, unnecessarily.

He jerked his hand away like he'd been burned.

"That will be all, Miss Walsh," he said, dismissing her.

End Chapter 3