How I Met Your Mother - I
Title: How I Met Your Mother
Author: linlawless
Rating: T
Word Count (This chapter ): 2456
Prompt: I used two, though I didn’t stay faithful to either: (1) Hermione and Snape have a 10th year anniversary. But it does not mark a happy day. It is a day both (or one) or them want to forget. Their story of coming together is not the kind one would tell one's children when they ask Mum and Dad how they fell in love. (2) Okay, I know it's cliché but I love a good MLC fic. So how about something along the lines of MLC but with some kind of different twist.(whatever that is is up to you) I would prefer Hermione to be at least a little bit older, not school girly.
Summary: A seemingly simple question from Severus and Hermione’s young daughter on their anniversary sends Severus meandering down memory lane.
Author's Note: See index page.
I. Why did you get married?
Present Day
“Daddy, Mummy says it's your tenth an'vers'ry. What's a an'vers'ry?”
Severus's answer was so patient that few of his acquaintances would have ever believed that this was their grumpy former professor or colleague. “It means that on this date, ten years ago, Mummy and Daddy got married.”
“Oh.” A short pause. “Why did you and Mummy get married?”
Severus thought for a moment before choosing his words carefully. “Because neither one of us could resist.”
“Oh.” Another pause. “Tell me about when you and Mummy got married, Daddy. Please?”
“All right,” Severus negotiated, “if you'll promise to be good for Uncle Draco tonight, I'll tell you the whole story while we wait for Mummy to finish getting ready to go out.” He might adore his angelic daughter, but he certainly wasn't blind to her faults - one of which was that she tended to run roughshod over any adult in her sphere, other than her parents, and get into all sorts of mischief. It had gotten to the point where a little blackmail was often required to get one of their friends to agree to watch her so that he and Hermione could have some time alone now and again. Fortunately, Draco was planning a surprise birthday party for his wife, so all it had taken this time was a few pointed remarks about what a shame it would be if Ginny got wind of it beforehand.
“I promise, Daddy,” the girl said solemnly, her dark eyes serious.
“All right,” he said, patting his lap. “Hop up here, and I'll tell you.”
As she complied, he quickly sifted through his memories of the events, deciding where to start …
Ten years and three days earlier
Severus ate dinner silently, making it appear as though he was ignoring the conversations of his colleagues. He had nothing in particular to say, and no one he especially wanted to say it to, so he effortlessly maintained his anti-social persona even now, five years after the end of the war. Still, the habits of nearly a lifetime die hard, so he almost automatically found himself registering snippets of dialogue, just in case there was some information that might be useful or important that no one would otherwise bother to tell him.
Thus it was that, in addition to the usual gossip about alumni (“Did you hear Ginny Weasley finally gave up on Harry Potter and accepted a date with Draco Malfoy, of all people?”) and students (“The current pair of Weasleys give every sign of being even more creative pranksters than their uncles ever were”), Severus heard something that would have made him jolt up in his chair, had he not already been sitting as straight as was humanly possible. And, of course, had he not been so practiced at keeping his reactions to himself.
“Rumor is that they're awfully concerned that the postwar baby boom was more of a whimper,” Hermione Granger was saying to Neville Longbottom. The two had been on faculty for nearly three years now - Longbottom having replaced Pomona in the Herbology post when she had decided to travel the world in her golden years, and Granger having taken over Charms when Flitwick had retired - and they were thick as thieves. Severus generally ignored both of them as much as possible, but for once, their conversation was interesting. “Harry says he's pretty sure the law is going to pass. He says he's tried arguing against it - pointed out that it smacks of the sort of intrusive paternalism that one might expect from another Dark Lord - but they're not hearing him. They're just too worried that the wizarding population will shrink away into nothingness.”
Longbottom shuddered. His tone bordered on whinging when he responded. “I don't want to get married yet, Hermione. I haven't met the right woman.”
“Well,” Granger said briskly, “from what Harry says, they're at least as concerned with compatibility as with the fact of the marriage - the aim, after all, is children, so they don't want people marrying in name only. Apparently, the law is going to include a requirement that couples take a compatibility test that supposedly predicts Arithmantically the degree of compatibility between a potential couple.”
“So if people aren't compatible, they won't be allowed to marry?” Longbottom sounded even more horrified than he already had. “Are they also going to force strangers who come out as compatible into marriages? And what if it's an acquaintance that you don't particularly like? Who's inventing this compatibility test, anyway?”
“That's the thing, Neville,” Granger replied, her voice dropping so that Severus had to strain to hear it. He allowed his gaze to roam over the hall, so as not to give away that he was listening. If Granger realized, she'd probably cast a Silencing Charm out of spite. “No one seems to know. Harry said the Ministry is keeping it under wraps, but when he tried to find out, he got the sense he was being stonewalled.” Severus kept his gaze moving, and realized that a few other people were listening as well. Vector was frowning, so he supposed that meant she hadn't been consulted about the Arithmantic algorithms the Ministry had commissioned. Odd, that, Severus thought - Vector was well-known to be the most accomplished Arithmancer in Britain.
When he caught sight of Trelawney, who was watching Granger and looking downright smug, Severus suddenly knew that he wanted no part of whatever compatibility test this law might mandate.
Trelawney had been trying to convince him for years that they were destined for one another. The very thought made him ill. Whatever it took, therefore, Severus would avoid being subjected to this latest bit of Ministry idiocy.
Present day
Recalling himself and, more importantly, to whom he was speaking, Severus looked at his daughter and said simply, “Well, the start of it all was a dunderheaded law the Ministry decided to enact, requiring people to get married. The Ministry was going to tell people who they were and were not allowed to marry. So Mummy and I decided not to allow them to make such a personal decision for us.”
Ten years earlier
It had been a bit more complicated than that, of course. Severus had spent the next three days using every contact he had - or (more accurately) every contact Lucius Malfoy had - to find out everything he could about this law. Lucius had had the good sense to switch sides as end of the war was drawing near and therefore had managed to retain his fortune and his influence. All it had taken to ensure he used both was casual mention that Draco might find himself wedded to someoone unacceptable in short order. A few discreet questions and (Severus presumed) the exchange of several hundred Galleons later, and Lucius informed Severus of all the details of the proposed law. They were largely as Granger had heard and, unfortunately, they affected every witch and wizard of childbearing age - which, sadly, included Severus.
Severus and Lucius spent an entire Saturday afternoon in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor discussing what might best be done. Lucius had already tried to influence the Ministry to abort this ridiculous plan, with surprisingly little success. Then he had tried to convince them that restrictions should be placed on intermarrying between purebloods and muggle-borns - only to find that the Ministry now planned to prohibit even the most compatible couples from marrying if both were purebloods. Their reasoning was that intermarriage would probably reduce the squib birthrate, and anyway, in the post-Voldemort era, it was better to create family relationships that would reduce prejudice.
Lucius said, “You should thank me, Severus. I - very selflessly, I might add - tried to assist you, at least.”
“How so?” Severus asked. “And what was in it for you?” he added suspiciously.
“You wound me, Severus,” Lucius replied virtuously. “I attempted to persuade the Ministry to at least restrict the acceptability of half-blood marriages to purebloods. Trelawney is pureblood, isn't she? And I know you don't want that delusional stick in your bed.”
“No, but I repeat, what's in it for you?”
Lucius sighed. “Well, I must admit, the thought of making polite conversation with that woman over dinner puts my appetite right off. Anyone would be better than being stuck with her,” he told Severus. “Even Granger would be better than Trelawney. At least she's not so bad to look at and can hold a normal conversation.”
Severus snorted. “Last I heard, Granger still has no use for you, due to certain unfortunate events that occurred right here - in this very room, as I understand it - during the war,” he pointed out.
Lucius smiled and gave an elegantly dismissive wave of his hand. “I'm quite confident that I could charm her into tolerating me if it became necessary. She might even grow to like me.”
Severus wasn't so sure - Granger was notoriously stubborn - but he didn't bother to say so. “I'm assuming your attempt to save us both from Trelawney didn't work?”
“Unfortunately, my contact pointed out that the stated reasons for limiting pureblood marriages don't apply to half-bloods. He refused to even suggest it to the Minister.”
A short while later, Severus took his leave. When he arrived back at Hogwarts, he closeted himself in his private quarters with a bottle of Firewhisky, forgoing dinner as he considered what to do to extricate himself from the reach of the Ministry.
The only solution, short of leaving the country or snapping his wand, was to get married before the law took effect. Since neither leaving Britain nor living as a Muggle appealed, Severus supposed he'd better find a way to get married immediately.
Lucius's words about Granger kept ringing in his head. She's not so bad to look at and can hold a normal conversation … Of course, she would never agree to marry him, would she?
Unless …
Two hours later, Granger looked shocked. “You want me to do what?!”
“Marry me.”
“Marry you?” Granger repeated dumbly.
“Is that so difficult a concept?” Severus sneered. “One would think that the brightest witch of her age would understand the phrase.”
“But why would you want to marry me? Have you been drinking?” she asked, sounding suspicious now.
“Yes, but I also took some Sober-Up, so I'm perfectly lucid. I am well aware that I have just suggested we get married.”
“You didn't suggest it,” Granger pointed out. “You told me you were invoking my life debt to you. What life debt? I don't owe you a life debt.”
“I believe, if you search your memory carefully, you'll realize you do.”
“For what?” Granger sounded frustrated.
“If you'll recall, for just a moment, the events of your third year, I'm certain you'll recall the correct moment.” Severus waited for the knut to drop. She was still a clever woman, so he didn't have to wait long.
“You can't mean … but …”
The expression on her face was rather amusing, Severus thought idly. He said, “Exactly. I protected you from your dear Defence professor in his less-than-human form, did I not?”
“Well … yes, I suppose.” Granger sounded skeptical, but they both knew he was right. She did owe him a life debt, dating back a decade.
And he could hardly marry one of her friends, who also owed him a life debt. He restated the obvious. “As I said, you owe me a life debt, which I am calling in at this time.”
“But why?” She sounded rather upset.
Severus inwardly cursed her need to question everything. He had the right to invoke the life debt in any way he chose, and she knew it, so nothing more should need to be said. “I have my reasons. You do not need to know what they are.”
“But … you don't even like me.”
Severus didn't see how that was relevant. “I don't like anyone. If I have to marry, it may as well be you.”
“If you have to … wait, you know about the stupid law the Ministry is planning?” Her eyes narrowed, and he almost rolled his eyes at the way she seemed to analyze that bit of information.
“Naturally. Not much escapes my notice.” Severus didn't bother to mention that it was her own indiscreet discussion with Longbottom that had put him onto the information. Who knew when he might want to eavesdrop again?
“So why not wait until they match you with someone compatible?” She was clutching at straws, Severus was certain. She was far too clever to think he would want anyone the Ministry might choose for him, wasn't she?
“What makes you so certain that the Ministry will match me with someone compatible?”
“Well, they're using an Arithmantic algorithm …” Granger appeared to be trying to convince herself as much as Severus.
“Developed by whom? And if it's so wonderful, why won't they allow anyone to evaluate it? If not by the general public, then by an expert, like Septima?”
“I did wonder about that …” Granger's voice trailed off. “But are you certain you want to do this? Marry me, of all people? You dislike me and you hate my friends. None of that is likely to change.”
“I don't hate your friends. I simply dislike them, as I do everyone,” Severus replied. He was getting impatient. He had a strong feeling that this must be done now, tonight, or it would be thwarted and he would find himself tied to Trelawney. “Look, it can be a marriage in name only. We can continue to live separate lives, we'll both be protected from this latest bit of Ministry idiocy, and your life debt will be cleared. I don't see what the problem is.”
“The problem is you don't even like me,” Granger said, for the third time.
“So what? You don't like me, either. Liking is not a prerequisite for a marriage of convenience.” He paused. “Come, now, Granger, you know you have no choice. I've invoked your life debt. So gather what you need and let's go.”
“Let's go?” Granger sounded incredulous now. “You can't mean … You want to do this now? As in, tonight?”
“No time like the present,” Severus pointed out blandly. “Besides, my sources tell me the passage of the law is imminent. I don't want to miss my chance to avoid its reach by waiting.”
“All right, fine,” Granger grumbled. “I suppose I have no choice. But I warn you, I don't appreciate being forced by you any more than I wanted to be forced by the Ministry. I'm probably going to make your life miserable.”
“My life is already miserable,” Severus replied. “I doubt anything you can do will make it worse.”
Continue to Next Chapter
Author: linlawless
Rating: T
Word Count (This chapter ): 2456
Prompt: I used two, though I didn’t stay faithful to either: (1) Hermione and Snape have a 10th year anniversary. But it does not mark a happy day. It is a day both (or one) or them want to forget. Their story of coming together is not the kind one would tell one's children when they ask Mum and Dad how they fell in love. (2) Okay, I know it's cliché but I love a good MLC fic. So how about something along the lines of MLC but with some kind of different twist.(whatever that is is up to you) I would prefer Hermione to be at least a little bit older, not school girly.
Summary: A seemingly simple question from Severus and Hermione’s young daughter on their anniversary sends Severus meandering down memory lane.
Author's Note: See index page.
I. Why did you get married?
Present Day
“Daddy, Mummy says it's your tenth an'vers'ry. What's a an'vers'ry?”
Severus's answer was so patient that few of his acquaintances would have ever believed that this was their grumpy former professor or colleague. “It means that on this date, ten years ago, Mummy and Daddy got married.”
“Oh.” A short pause. “Why did you and Mummy get married?”
Severus thought for a moment before choosing his words carefully. “Because neither one of us could resist.”
“Oh.” Another pause. “Tell me about when you and Mummy got married, Daddy. Please?”
“All right,” Severus negotiated, “if you'll promise to be good for Uncle Draco tonight, I'll tell you the whole story while we wait for Mummy to finish getting ready to go out.” He might adore his angelic daughter, but he certainly wasn't blind to her faults - one of which was that she tended to run roughshod over any adult in her sphere, other than her parents, and get into all sorts of mischief. It had gotten to the point where a little blackmail was often required to get one of their friends to agree to watch her so that he and Hermione could have some time alone now and again. Fortunately, Draco was planning a surprise birthday party for his wife, so all it had taken this time was a few pointed remarks about what a shame it would be if Ginny got wind of it beforehand.
“I promise, Daddy,” the girl said solemnly, her dark eyes serious.
“All right,” he said, patting his lap. “Hop up here, and I'll tell you.”
As she complied, he quickly sifted through his memories of the events, deciding where to start …
Ten years and three days earlier
Severus ate dinner silently, making it appear as though he was ignoring the conversations of his colleagues. He had nothing in particular to say, and no one he especially wanted to say it to, so he effortlessly maintained his anti-social persona even now, five years after the end of the war. Still, the habits of nearly a lifetime die hard, so he almost automatically found himself registering snippets of dialogue, just in case there was some information that might be useful or important that no one would otherwise bother to tell him.
Thus it was that, in addition to the usual gossip about alumni (“Did you hear Ginny Weasley finally gave up on Harry Potter and accepted a date with Draco Malfoy, of all people?”) and students (“The current pair of Weasleys give every sign of being even more creative pranksters than their uncles ever were”), Severus heard something that would have made him jolt up in his chair, had he not already been sitting as straight as was humanly possible. And, of course, had he not been so practiced at keeping his reactions to himself.
“Rumor is that they're awfully concerned that the postwar baby boom was more of a whimper,” Hermione Granger was saying to Neville Longbottom. The two had been on faculty for nearly three years now - Longbottom having replaced Pomona in the Herbology post when she had decided to travel the world in her golden years, and Granger having taken over Charms when Flitwick had retired - and they were thick as thieves. Severus generally ignored both of them as much as possible, but for once, their conversation was interesting. “Harry says he's pretty sure the law is going to pass. He says he's tried arguing against it - pointed out that it smacks of the sort of intrusive paternalism that one might expect from another Dark Lord - but they're not hearing him. They're just too worried that the wizarding population will shrink away into nothingness.”
Longbottom shuddered. His tone bordered on whinging when he responded. “I don't want to get married yet, Hermione. I haven't met the right woman.”
“Well,” Granger said briskly, “from what Harry says, they're at least as concerned with compatibility as with the fact of the marriage - the aim, after all, is children, so they don't want people marrying in name only. Apparently, the law is going to include a requirement that couples take a compatibility test that supposedly predicts Arithmantically the degree of compatibility between a potential couple.”
“So if people aren't compatible, they won't be allowed to marry?” Longbottom sounded even more horrified than he already had. “Are they also going to force strangers who come out as compatible into marriages? And what if it's an acquaintance that you don't particularly like? Who's inventing this compatibility test, anyway?”
“That's the thing, Neville,” Granger replied, her voice dropping so that Severus had to strain to hear it. He allowed his gaze to roam over the hall, so as not to give away that he was listening. If Granger realized, she'd probably cast a Silencing Charm out of spite. “No one seems to know. Harry said the Ministry is keeping it under wraps, but when he tried to find out, he got the sense he was being stonewalled.” Severus kept his gaze moving, and realized that a few other people were listening as well. Vector was frowning, so he supposed that meant she hadn't been consulted about the Arithmantic algorithms the Ministry had commissioned. Odd, that, Severus thought - Vector was well-known to be the most accomplished Arithmancer in Britain.
When he caught sight of Trelawney, who was watching Granger and looking downright smug, Severus suddenly knew that he wanted no part of whatever compatibility test this law might mandate.
Trelawney had been trying to convince him for years that they were destined for one another. The very thought made him ill. Whatever it took, therefore, Severus would avoid being subjected to this latest bit of Ministry idiocy.
Present day
Recalling himself and, more importantly, to whom he was speaking, Severus looked at his daughter and said simply, “Well, the start of it all was a dunderheaded law the Ministry decided to enact, requiring people to get married. The Ministry was going to tell people who they were and were not allowed to marry. So Mummy and I decided not to allow them to make such a personal decision for us.”
Ten years earlier
It had been a bit more complicated than that, of course. Severus had spent the next three days using every contact he had - or (more accurately) every contact Lucius Malfoy had - to find out everything he could about this law. Lucius had had the good sense to switch sides as end of the war was drawing near and therefore had managed to retain his fortune and his influence. All it had taken to ensure he used both was casual mention that Draco might find himself wedded to someoone unacceptable in short order. A few discreet questions and (Severus presumed) the exchange of several hundred Galleons later, and Lucius informed Severus of all the details of the proposed law. They were largely as Granger had heard and, unfortunately, they affected every witch and wizard of childbearing age - which, sadly, included Severus.
Severus and Lucius spent an entire Saturday afternoon in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor discussing what might best be done. Lucius had already tried to influence the Ministry to abort this ridiculous plan, with surprisingly little success. Then he had tried to convince them that restrictions should be placed on intermarrying between purebloods and muggle-borns - only to find that the Ministry now planned to prohibit even the most compatible couples from marrying if both were purebloods. Their reasoning was that intermarriage would probably reduce the squib birthrate, and anyway, in the post-Voldemort era, it was better to create family relationships that would reduce prejudice.
Lucius said, “You should thank me, Severus. I - very selflessly, I might add - tried to assist you, at least.”
“How so?” Severus asked. “And what was in it for you?” he added suspiciously.
“You wound me, Severus,” Lucius replied virtuously. “I attempted to persuade the Ministry to at least restrict the acceptability of half-blood marriages to purebloods. Trelawney is pureblood, isn't she? And I know you don't want that delusional stick in your bed.”
“No, but I repeat, what's in it for you?”
Lucius sighed. “Well, I must admit, the thought of making polite conversation with that woman over dinner puts my appetite right off. Anyone would be better than being stuck with her,” he told Severus. “Even Granger would be better than Trelawney. At least she's not so bad to look at and can hold a normal conversation.”
Severus snorted. “Last I heard, Granger still has no use for you, due to certain unfortunate events that occurred right here - in this very room, as I understand it - during the war,” he pointed out.
Lucius smiled and gave an elegantly dismissive wave of his hand. “I'm quite confident that I could charm her into tolerating me if it became necessary. She might even grow to like me.”
Severus wasn't so sure - Granger was notoriously stubborn - but he didn't bother to say so. “I'm assuming your attempt to save us both from Trelawney didn't work?”
“Unfortunately, my contact pointed out that the stated reasons for limiting pureblood marriages don't apply to half-bloods. He refused to even suggest it to the Minister.”
A short while later, Severus took his leave. When he arrived back at Hogwarts, he closeted himself in his private quarters with a bottle of Firewhisky, forgoing dinner as he considered what to do to extricate himself from the reach of the Ministry.
The only solution, short of leaving the country or snapping his wand, was to get married before the law took effect. Since neither leaving Britain nor living as a Muggle appealed, Severus supposed he'd better find a way to get married immediately.
Lucius's words about Granger kept ringing in his head. She's not so bad to look at and can hold a normal conversation … Of course, she would never agree to marry him, would she?
Unless …
Two hours later, Granger looked shocked. “You want me to do what?!”
“Marry me.”
“Marry you?” Granger repeated dumbly.
“Is that so difficult a concept?” Severus sneered. “One would think that the brightest witch of her age would understand the phrase.”
“But why would you want to marry me? Have you been drinking?” she asked, sounding suspicious now.
“Yes, but I also took some Sober-Up, so I'm perfectly lucid. I am well aware that I have just suggested we get married.”
“You didn't suggest it,” Granger pointed out. “You told me you were invoking my life debt to you. What life debt? I don't owe you a life debt.”
“I believe, if you search your memory carefully, you'll realize you do.”
“For what?” Granger sounded frustrated.
“If you'll recall, for just a moment, the events of your third year, I'm certain you'll recall the correct moment.” Severus waited for the knut to drop. She was still a clever woman, so he didn't have to wait long.
“You can't mean … but …”
The expression on her face was rather amusing, Severus thought idly. He said, “Exactly. I protected you from your dear Defence professor in his less-than-human form, did I not?”
“Well … yes, I suppose.” Granger sounded skeptical, but they both knew he was right. She did owe him a life debt, dating back a decade.
And he could hardly marry one of her friends, who also owed him a life debt. He restated the obvious. “As I said, you owe me a life debt, which I am calling in at this time.”
“But why?” She sounded rather upset.
Severus inwardly cursed her need to question everything. He had the right to invoke the life debt in any way he chose, and she knew it, so nothing more should need to be said. “I have my reasons. You do not need to know what they are.”
“But … you don't even like me.”
Severus didn't see how that was relevant. “I don't like anyone. If I have to marry, it may as well be you.”
“If you have to … wait, you know about the stupid law the Ministry is planning?” Her eyes narrowed, and he almost rolled his eyes at the way she seemed to analyze that bit of information.
“Naturally. Not much escapes my notice.” Severus didn't bother to mention that it was her own indiscreet discussion with Longbottom that had put him onto the information. Who knew when he might want to eavesdrop again?
“So why not wait until they match you with someone compatible?” She was clutching at straws, Severus was certain. She was far too clever to think he would want anyone the Ministry might choose for him, wasn't she?
“What makes you so certain that the Ministry will match me with someone compatible?”
“Well, they're using an Arithmantic algorithm …” Granger appeared to be trying to convince herself as much as Severus.
“Developed by whom? And if it's so wonderful, why won't they allow anyone to evaluate it? If not by the general public, then by an expert, like Septima?”
“I did wonder about that …” Granger's voice trailed off. “But are you certain you want to do this? Marry me, of all people? You dislike me and you hate my friends. None of that is likely to change.”
“I don't hate your friends. I simply dislike them, as I do everyone,” Severus replied. He was getting impatient. He had a strong feeling that this must be done now, tonight, or it would be thwarted and he would find himself tied to Trelawney. “Look, it can be a marriage in name only. We can continue to live separate lives, we'll both be protected from this latest bit of Ministry idiocy, and your life debt will be cleared. I don't see what the problem is.”
“The problem is you don't even like me,” Granger said, for the third time.
“So what? You don't like me, either. Liking is not a prerequisite for a marriage of convenience.” He paused. “Come, now, Granger, you know you have no choice. I've invoked your life debt. So gather what you need and let's go.”
“Let's go?” Granger sounded incredulous now. “You can't mean … You want to do this now? As in, tonight?”
“No time like the present,” Severus pointed out blandly. “Besides, my sources tell me the passage of the law is imminent. I don't want to miss my chance to avoid its reach by waiting.”
“All right, fine,” Granger grumbled. “I suppose I have no choice. But I warn you, I don't appreciate being forced by you any more than I wanted to be forced by the Ministry. I'm probably going to make your life miserable.”
“My life is already miserable,” Severus replied. “I doubt anything you can do will make it worse.”
Continue to Next Chapter