Tying Knots

Chapter Seven - A Frayed Knot

It all seemed so surreal, Hermione thought as she stood underneath the tree. The wind was the only thing rippling the branches of the Whomping Willow today as the small party surrounded a tiny headstone that had been fashioned for him.

'Ron is dead ... Ron is dead ... Ron is dead ... Ron is dead ...' She couldn't make the phrase loosen its grip on her subconscious. 'Ron is dead ... and it's my fault."

Hermione snuffled loudly, but the people thronging around the tiny gravesite took no notice. The Weasley clan was huddled together; Tonks and Lupin clasped hands and whispered prayers. Neville stood near Ginny, bawling like a baby. Dumbledore was reciting some passage of hope and courage and bravery, but Hermione could not get her mind around it. She stood at the far edge of the crowd, staring across to the other side where Harry, too, was standing alone.

His eyes were fixed on the stone that just protruded over the lump of freshly packed earth. He was standing rigidly still, as if someone's touch would shatter him to pieces. He did not cry, he did not pray. He stood still, fixed on where Ron lay beneath the soil, and he stared.

Hermione barely held back her weeping. She had made it through a majority of the previous evening, too tired to cry, but today, seeing his grave here in the real world, she could not hold back. She felt the tears pouring down her face but she made no effort to stop them. She deserved these tears. Ron deserved these tears.

She looked up, startled, when she realized that everyone was moving about her. Mrs. Weasley was now laying flowers at the foot of the small, stone-walled-in plot that Snape has set aside for him. People were milling about, consoling, comforting, aiding each other in their grief.

Hermione looked around a bit and realized she no longer saw Harry. She turned wildly in every direction before finding his retreating form heading towards the lake. She followed as fast as her feet would carry her. Harry was halfway around the lake before Hermione caught up with him, but she merely fell into a pace next to him, matching her shorter, quicker strides to the slow steady plodding of his own long gate.

They circled the lake in silence for quite some time. Her head was buzzing with a hundred different things she wished to say to him, but every time she tried, the glazed, vacant look in his eyes warned her off and the words died on her lips. Eventually, on their fourth or fifth time around the lake, Harry stopped walking and turned to view the scene.

They had crossed to the opposite side where the long lawn leading to the forest could be seen. Hermione watched in silence as the bright afternoon sun glinted off the hair of the Weasleys, now huddled in a tight knot underneath the tree, nearly a hundred feet away. Hermione felt Harry's long, slim fingers slide into hers as they stood watching. She laced her fingers through his and clasped his hand tightly, but she said nothing.

After several minutes, Harry spoke up quietly. "You're not safe you know. You're free again."

Hermione throat clenched so painfully she thought she might have to gasp for breath. "I can't think about that now. Not here. It's too soon ... too fresh ..." She had to stop. It was impossible to think of protecting herself, of aligning herself with someone else when the grief of Ron was so rife. Hermione looked up to Harry's face. He was hiccoughing quietly, holding in the sobs as he starred to where a spot had opened up in the crowd across the lake and Ron's grave was once again visible. Harry was battling to keep it in.

"Cry for Ron," Hermione whimpered, her voice an almost desperate plea, "Cry, Harry! Cry for your best friend!" Her voice broke as a single tear rolled down Harry's face, now splotched red with strain. "Cry for him! Cry for yourself!"

At her last words, Harry turned to look desperately into her face, now drenched with grief as well. It seemed too hard, too much to take, the pain there in his eyes, the guilt in hers. Harry pulled Hermione roughly to him, her head buried in the strong hollow of his neck. His arms came about her at crushing strength, his hands like vises crossed and grasping at her shoulder and waist. Her fingers dug deep into his soft cotton shirt at his shoulders and she grasped onto him as if he were her last salvation.

Beneath the aching grief escaping her throat, Hermione's heart trembled. Harry was shuddering as he sobbed now, his body wracked with a hurt so deep that she feared he might collapse with it. They cried aloud, howling out the anguish that had built up since the previous night. Hermione clung to Harry's shoulders, not bothering to regard the time, merely taking the proffered solace. As their weeping subsided, Hermione pulled away once again to look up into Harry's eyes. He raised a hand delicately to trace a half circle underneath her right eye.

"Dark circles," he said gently. "You haven't slept."

"I couldn't ... not after ..." She raised a hand as well, mirroring his action on the other side. She gently removed his glasses and then traced a finger underneath his eyes, now brighter green without the hindrance. "Dark too," she murmured.

"I couldn't sleep either."

Hermione barely knew what was upon her as he moved towards her softly. It seemed to take hours, but when their lips met, it was as if she had been waiting for it to happen all her life. Something tumbled over itself in her stomach as his other hand came up to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. She could feel his heart thrumming, her palms flat against his chest as he gathered her closer.

"Ahem."

Hermione started at the sound of the voice nearby, bumping her nose into Harry's cheek as she tried to pull away with some semblance of dignity. Severus Snape was standing a few feet away, leering at them with a condescending sneer plastered on his face. He watched - obviously amused - as Hermione scrambled away from Harry, who was glaring at him with utmost loathing.

"If you can pry your hormones apart long enough to grieve the dead," Snape said, bitingly (to which Hermione had to restrain Harry from lunging at him), "Dumbledore wishes that everyone pay their last respects. The rest of the party is returning to London as we speak."

*****

Hermione and Harry followed Snape back around the lake in silence. His steps were swift, leaving them trailing far behind; he never so much as glanced over his shoulder to see that they were following. Hermione noticed, with a sigh, that she and Harry were walking several feet apart, heads down, like chastised children. Harry was flushing lightly in anger, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

When they reached the willow where Ron's grave stood, Hermione was surprised to see that only a few stragglers had remained. They arrived just in time to hear the pop! that was Lupin and Tonks Apparating away. Mrs. Weasley was squatting near the headstone, clearing away some weeds and laying a bouquet of sunny daffodils. Arthur stood with his hands around Ginny's shoulders, heedless of her occasional sniffling and the fact that she was practically holding Neville on his feet.

Hermione drew a deep breath. She was not certain that she could handle the grief that she felt emanating from them in almost visible waves. She started to turn, to move away, when Mrs. Weasley seemed to read her mind.

"Come on, Arthur, Ginny, Neville," she said too brightly, a determined smile on her face. "Give Harry and Hermione a moment alone with Ron."

It cost Hermione a great deal to hear the stout woman speak of her friend as if he were there, merely asleep or in another location, but she worked up a gratefully smile and turned her eyes to Harry. Harry merely nodded in recognition but did not lift his eyes from the ground. Mr. Weasley steered Ginny in the direction of the castle - leaving Mrs. Weasley to comfort Neville - as they walked back towards Hogwarts, where they could floo back to the Burrow.

Hermione sank to her knees on the ground just ahead of the stone. She traced her fingers over the words, little hiccoughs in her breathing as she whispered them.

Ronald Weasley

Martyred at the hands of the Dark Lord:

Aged 18 years

Cherished son, dearest friend,

Devoted to his beloved Hermione

She fought to keep from sobbing hysterically again. Instead, she stretched herself out and laid on the mound of earth, beneath which lay Ron's body. Without even glancing up, Hermione extended her open palm up towards Harry, inviting him to lay down with her. She noticed him, out of the corner of her eye, straightening his shorts and shirt nervously before laying down upon the earth. She turned her face inward - his facing hers, hers facing his - their eyes gazing back at each other as they laid hand over hand on the mound that they supposed covered Ron's heart.

"Goodbye, mate," Harry spoke quietly.

"Rest in peace," Hermione whispered.

*****

After several long minutes, Hermione sat up slowly and brushed the stray dirt and twigs from the front of her tank top. Harry offered her his hand to help her off the ground, which she took lightly and allowed him lift her. Once she was on her feet, Harry bent quickly and brushed his lips briefly against hers. She felt her cheeks warm and redden with a quick flush. And then she shrieked as she felt a hand at her shoulders.

"Miss Granger..." Dumbledore's voice was calm and steady as always but there was something sad and strange in the clear blue eyes. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you but there are pressing matters that need to be discussed. I did not wish to confer in front of anyone else close to Mr. Weasley or his family, as I feared it would upset them." Dumbledore looked pointedly to Harry, who moved closer to her, a hand at her elbow.

Hermione was perplexed. She had never seen Dumbledore be so exclusive before, but she had also never seen Harry suddenly become passive-aggressive. She looked from one to the other briefly, and then to Snape, who was now pacing back and forth, glancing uncomfortably at Ron's grave. Hermione was very perplexed.

"All right, Headmaster," she said slowly, "perhaps we should adjourn to your office to discuss this?"

"Indeed," he said and moved on towards the castle. Snape followed quickly, leaving Harry and Hermione to glance at each other curiously and jog to catch up.

*****

Hermione settled quite uneasily into one of the chintz armchairs in Dumbledore's office. Snape was prowling the perimeter of the room ceaselessly and glaring at her; Hermione couldn't decide if she thought he was nervous or simply circling his prey like a buzzard. Harry stood firmly behind her chair, his hands just behind her head, as if he were her own personal bodyguard.

"Miss Granger, as grieved as I am at Mr. Weasley's death, I'm afraid there are some harsh realities we must face."

Hermione nodded silently, Harry stiffened behind her, and Snape's circling picked up speed. If Dumbledore was aware of the younger man's interminable pacing, he made no move to indicate so.

"Due to the young Mr. Weasley's untimely death, you find yourself in a very precarious position. As dangerous as your situation was while engaged to Mr. Weasley, you are now even further endangered, and we find ourselves back at the start that we encountered little less than a month ago. You are now an eligible witch, and I'm certain that the Ministry will not hesitate to force you into a decision regarding your marriage proposals as soon as they catch wind of Ronald's passing."

Hermione felt a great plunging in her stomach. Here it was ... the moment where Dumbledore was to tell her that she must marry Draco Malfoy ...

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "We have been saving one solution for only a last resort case--"

Snape snorted derisively, causing Hermione to jump several inches, suddenly acutely aware of his buzzard-like presence in the room.

Dumbledore continued as if he had not been interrupted. "I feel that, unfortunately, we are now at that dire state. We have only one choice for your marriage that we feel will ensure your safety, and I hope that you have faith enough to put trust in my judgment."

With a feeling of great unrest, Hermione watched as Dumbledore's gaze shifted up to meet the hulking glare of Professor Snape, who had stopped his pacing and was now plunging a hand deep within the pockets of his robes. Above her head, she heard Harry mumble a quiet, "he can't be serious ..."

Hermione looked quickly to Professor Snape and then back to Dumbledore, puzzled. "Sir? Who have you," she stopped to gulp in fear, "chosen for me?" Her heart was repeating a single refrain: Please not Malfoy ... dear god, anything but Malfoy ... PLEASE not Malfoy ...

Snape said nothing but moved to her and thrust a somewhat crumpled scroll into her hands. She looked down at the seal of a striking serpent that was emblazoned upon a crest whose letters she could not make out. They simply looked like a complex series of squiggles to her. She looked back up, again perplexed.

"It was ..." Snape stopped, cleared his throat, resumed his scowl and continued, "submitted this morning."

When he said nothing more, simply glared down at her in frustrated anticipation, she shakily ran a finger under the seal and opened the scroll. Barely recognizing what she was seeing, she read aloud.

"I, Severus Reynard Philippe Snape d'Guise, hereby request the hand of Miss Hermione Claire Granger in marriage under Ministry of Magic ..."

She trailed off and stared in disbelief as it washed over her what was really happening. Hermione could tell that she was now gawping like an owl at Dumbledore, who merely sighed and lowered his eyes to the desk. When she found no relief there, she peeked over her shoulder to Harry, who was staring gape-mouthed at Snape. With a slam of his hands on the back of her chair that made her jump, Harry launched himself across the room at the man, shouting furiously.

"You hideous bastard! You've had this planned the whole time haven't you?" Harry was furiously bellowing. His wand was clutched haphazardly in his left hand and Hermione was quite certain that, at the moment, it was his balled right fist he was intending to actually use. "Had to kill Ron to save his life, eh? More like get him out of the way!"

Harry was charging towards Snape now, his wand abandoned, his fists ready. Hermione leapt out of her chair to try and subdue Harry but Snape managed it first. He drew his wand quickly and muttered, "Locomotor Mortis," and before Harry was aware of what had happened, his body seized up and he crashed rigidly to the ground, victim to Snape's full body bind. Severus merely stepped over Harry, who had landed face down at his feet, and addressed Dumbledore.

"This, Albus, is exactly why I said we should have proposed this from the onset! The last thing I need right now is His Royal Majesty starting term in my class thinking I'm letching after his plaything."

"Severus!" Dumbledore snapped. "That is hardly an appropriate way for you to behave at all, let alone in front of a woman whom you've just proposed to. Get a hold of yourself, for goodness's sake."

Hermione had ignored the two men completely and was now drawing her wand as she knelt down in front of Harry. "Finite Incantatem," she spoke quietly, releasing Harry from the body bind. She helped him sit up slowly and glared daggers at Snape when his nose started to bleed from contact with the floor.

She roughly removed his hand from his face, pointed her wand at him and muttered, "Finite flumeninis." Though his nose had stopped flowing freely, Harry was still dabbing at the blood on his face.

Hermione rose to her feet and jammed her hands into the pockets of her robes, resisting the fury welling up in her throat. "If you two are quite finished speaking on my behalf," she snapped at Dumbledore and Snape, only one of which had the decency to look chastised.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Granger," began Dumbledore, looking truly weary. "If we are snappish it is only with grief over the situation." Snape snorted derisively, but Dumbledore continued. "If you remember correctly, I did say that there was a stage of desperation that we had not yet reached before you accepted Mr. Weasley's proposal and that Severus had a last resort solution ... Most unfortunately, Professor Snape's proposal was a last resort that we had hoped not to reach."

Snape smirked deeply and replied, "I resent that remark."

Hermione found herself hard-pressed to stifle a giggle when Harry muttered, "You resemble that remark."

Snape glared at Harry but said nothing to dignify the insult. Instead he turned to Hermione and sneered at her. "Miss Granger you do surprise me. I would have been certain that you'd have had the vapors and passed out by now. What a disappointment."

"You loathsome bastard, I ought to just--"

"If the both of you would please restrain yourselves and refrain from the senseless undercutting," Dumbledore interjected. "You both have every reason to be upset right now, but it does not diminish the need for immediate action on your part, Miss Granger. I know that it isn't fair to ask you for an immediate decision, but I assure you that if you do not act soon, Lucius Malfoy most certainly will. And it is much easier to aid you in a marriage with Severus than protect you in one with the son of a Death Eater."

Hermione sighed. Harry was grumbling behind her.

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Dumbledore looked to Severus, who was now staring into the fire and scowling. "I cannot say that you do not have a choice. One always has choices. But, as I said before, a marriage to Severus would be the easiest and most thorough way to protect you. And despite his outer gruffness," Dumbledore critiqued gently, casting a doubtful look over his shoulder, "Severus is a good man who has my complete trust. I do not hesitate to assure you that he will endeavor to make the situation as favorable as possible for the both of you."

Hermione sighed and gazed up to Harry who had moved to stand behind her chair again. His face was deeply lined with scowls but he said nothing.

"Harry ..." she said, laying a hand lightly on his.

Snape grumbled ... no doubt for the fact that she was appealing to Harry for marriage advice.

Hermione watched as Harry took a slow, deliberately calming breath and looked away and then back to her eyes. His fingers clenched on hers momentarily and then he drew his hand away. "What other choice do you have?"

Hermione nodded and turned back to the desk where both Snape and Dumbledore were now watching her. She pushed forward on the chair and once again looked over the scroll.

"I, Severus Reynard Philippe Snape d'Guise ... d'Guise?"

"My mother is French, the custom is to name the child by the matronymic there," he responded quickly.

"Hmmm," she answered. "Severus Reynard Philippe ... you have a rather copious amount of names don't you?"

"That's not even all of them," Snape muttered distractedly. After another moment or two went by with no movement on Hermione's part, Snape burst out, "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Granger, just sign the damned thing!"

Hermione enjoyed toying with her last few moments of calm before the storm. "... hereby request the hand of Miss Hermione Claire Granger in marriage ..." She sighed heavily. "Well, Hermione Claire," she said barely audibly, "here we go ..."

She picked up the quill from the stand on Dumbledore's desk and paused only minutely before scripting her name in careful, perfect characters next on the appropriate blank.

She looked down at it for another moment.

I, Hermione Claire Granger, do accept your proposal, Severus R. Snape, for marriage on a date yet to be determined.

As soon as she lifted the quill tip from the paper, the parchment rolled itself up and disappeared with a pop! Severus rounded the desk and, on his way out the door, very unceremoniously dropped something in Hermione's lap. He shut the door behind him without a backward glance. Dumbledore sighed heavily.

Hermione looked down at the object, now gleaming in her lap. "Oh dear," she muttered as she picked it up. An ornate, antique silver ring set with a large diamond encircled by two small emeralds lay glittering in the firelight. She could feel both Harry's and Dumbledore's eyes on her face as she slipped it on and the ring molded to fit her hand. Only then did she notice that the ornate scrollwork on the ring was actually the body markings of a serpent, whose eyes were tiny emeralds and whose open mouth was the setting for the diamond.

"Oh dear," she said again, wondering idly what she'd gotten herself into this time.