Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A vicious attack on Hermione has unexpected consequences for Severus.
Warnings: Obliquely mentioned rape. This fic deals with the aftermath of the assault, with mentions of the circumstances.
Prompt: Hermione is assaulted by a Death Eater (NOT Snape) and bears a child. Post-war, Snape helps her deal with the trauma and raise her child. Does not have to be romance, can contain NC-17 content, though no graphic rape.
Notes: Written for madjh in the Summer 2007 Fic Exchange at sshg_exchange.
Severus stood in the doorway of the darkened room, and looked over to where his daughter lay sleeping. It always amazed him to see her like this – so peaceful and quiet, vulnerable. She was a vibrant and active child, running he and Hermione ragged with her boundless energy and unceasing curiosity. He was very proud to have her in his life, to have her love and her mother’s as well. This was not the future that he had imagined for himself, and he had never been so glad to be so dreadful at divination – useless twaddle that it was. His life had so unexpectedly and drastically changed that summer. It was the beginning of a future that he had never thought to have.
When he had entered the new apothecary, just after the start of the fall term, he was well acquainted with the proprietress, and of her condition, but completely unaware of the relevance to himself. The Daily Prophet had latched onto the fairly scandalous situation almost as soon as it had become evident, fueled by a source at St. Mungo’s and the vicious rumors and innuendo surrounding the trials of the captured Death Eaters in the wake of Voldemort’s destruction. There had been speculation that her former beau, Ronald Weasley was responsible, titillation and gossip fueled by his quick engagement and subsequent marriage to Miss Brown, and the rumors that the newest Mrs. Weasley may also be in the ‘family way,’ despite the lack of continuing evidence to the contrary. Harry Potter was another suspect, as he always was in Miss Granger’s love life, but most disturbing were the accusations of Miss Granger having engaged in a torrid love affair with a Death Eater during the heated conflict. Very few were aware of the truth of the matter and Miss Granger had little inclination to set them straight. Severus almost respected her for that.
Severus had only snorted at the foolish ideas and lurid articles in The Daily Prophet that he would have lent little credence to, even if he, and several members of the Order of the Phoenix had not been aware of the truth. Miss Granger wasn’t the type prone to flights of fancy, nor would she have jeopardized her own welfare, or that of her friends by behaving in such a manner. In fact, if he had not found her, in the aftermath of the vicious attack that had resulted in her current condition, and taken her directly to Poppy, he doubted that he or any of the others would have known the truth. She had been most stubborn in her refusal to discuss what had happened to her. For his part, Severus did not regret getting the girl the help that she needed, only that Ethan Rosier had already been dead when he had stumbled upon the traumatized girl in the Forbidden Forest.
Even when confronted with Severus’ knowledge and suppositions, Hermione had refused to share more than the basic details of how Ethan had abducted her from the battlefield to ‘punish’ her, and, by extension, Potter, for killing the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, Severus knew enough of the younger Death Eater’s tastes and temperament, when coupled with the witch’s condition, to deduce more than he cared to know of what had likely occurred. After her cousin Evan’s death at the wands of Aurors during the first uprising, Bellatrix had taken a special interest in his son, and Ethan had thrived under her tutelage. He shared her liking for torture, her devotion to Voldemort, and her madness. He had no doubt much enjoyed the ‘punishment’ that he had sought to impart to the Muggle-born witch.
The fool, Rosier, had underestimated Hermione’s spirit, though, and her willingness and ability to fight back, even without her wand. Determination and strength, coupled by what was likely a burst of wandless magic, had sent her attacker flying off of her, and into a nearby tree. A tree branch to the base of the skull had stopped his advances, but not before the damage was done. When Severus found them, Hermione had been kneeling, bloody and bruised, in her tattered robes, cradling her broken vine wood wand in her hands, with Rosier’s dead body a few yards away. It was days, and several calming draughts, later before she could be convinced to speak at all, and longer still before she ceased to flinch away from any male presence other than his own.
At first, Severus had been unsure of how to react to Miss Granger’s need to cling to him for comfort. On some level, he understood that it was because he had, in a sense, rescued her when he had succeeded in convincing her to allow him to help her and had removed her from the forest to the infirmary, but her friends had no such gratitude, and expressed their disgust for him most thoroughly. He admitted that he had capitulated to her demands, in part, merely to rile the young men and sneer at their reactions, but he had, in spite of himself, eventually grown fond of the witch. He had come to know her, and she, thankfully, eventually grew less tenacious. Still, he did not think of them as friends, nor did he wish to share a familiar relationship with her along the lines of that which she had with Weasley and Potter. The bossy know-it-all could be a harridan of the order of Molly Weasley, when crossed, and he liked his ears (and his bits) quite firmly as they were.
Still, their time together was companionable and he had come to enjoy some of the intellectual discussions that they had shared, once she had grown past her insecurities and learned to not try and impress him with her knowledge. He favored well-developed opinions backed by fact, rather than parroted facts from whatever books she had read, and they had engaged in several lively debates on many varied subjects while she healed from her injuries and recovered her magic. It was longing for such stimulation, after a particularly trying day of dealing with the horrors that the Headmistress called students, that had caused him to seek out the little shop in Hogsmeade that Hermione had opened after she had bullied the others into ceasing their constant hovering. Returning to Hogwarts to teach had been more trying on him than he wanted to admit, and he had needed a break. He had hoped to find it here, in the company of another adult who could speak of more than children and curriculums, or even in a stirring row that might allow him to vent his frustrations.
Snape had entered Hermione’s narrow shop – with its dark plank floors, worn but elegant rugs, and various magical and non-magical fauna arranged in various pots and planters – with a decidedly critical eye, but it was a pleasant environment with a homey arrangement that felt comfortable but not cluttered. He could find little to fault among her carefully labeled and displayed wares, or in the tingle of wards that he had felt upon entering. He had been almost convinced that Miss Granger had grown into a sensible young witch, until he heard her soft exclamation of surprise and she tumbled down off a tall ladder to land on top of him.
As soon as he had regained his breath, however, his temper had gotten the best of him and he had begun to berate her. “You stupid girl. What were you thinking? You should know better than to be so foolish in your condition. Or were you trying to get hurt? You could have damn well taken the bloody potion, if you wanted to end things, instead of climbing up on ladders and injuring me and yourself in the process.”
It hadn’t been an auspicious beginning, and she hadn’t taken his insult well. He scarcely thought about what he was actually saying, or realized that he had been running his hands over her limbs, checking her for injuries, until she stilled in his arms, and burst into tears. He almost felt contrite for his allegations – for upsetting her – until his head rocked to the side from a fierce blow to his cheek. He quickly set her away from him and gritted his teeth, stopping her commencing tirade with a terse, “Silencio!”
She stamped her foot and canceled the spell with a flick of her wand, which she then pointed menacingly at him. “Don’t you ever say anything like that again, Snape. It was an accident, you git, and it was partially your fault for startling me.”
“Excuse me, Madam, but I was under the impression that this was a place of business, and as such, visitors were to be expected. I’d thank you to pay more attention to your surroundings and your wards, and not go around engaging in foolish activities. I’d think you’d have sufficiently learned your lesson on that account long ago.”
She had flinched a bit at his remonstrance, but stood her ground. “I apologize for falling on you, but this is my shop and my body, and I will not have you haranguing me like an errant student. Now, if you are done with your histrionics, I could use a cup of tea, Professor, and you can either join me, or bugger off. I am not in the mood to be lectured.” With that, she pocketed her wand and turned away to an inconspicuous door at the rear of the shop, without looking to see if he would follow.
He had surprised himself by merely harrumphing his displeasure and following her. He had followed suit and pocketed his own wand, as she tugged on the brass knob, opening the door to a narrow, dimly lit staircase. He had followed her up the creaking stairs, to a small apartment, with a tiny kitchen, and a sitting room with a thread-worn, but comfortable looking davenport and two wing chairs. Her home had the same shabby but elegant feel of the shop below, but with slightly more clutter, in the form of books and parchment and writing supplies on most of the tables and the desk under the window. Stray hair from her and the snub-faced orange cat in the eastern facing chair were evident on the furnishings, but the tiny space was well maintained and held a pleasant fragrance that he associated with Hermione herself. He had resisted the urge to explore her overstuffed bookcase and sat on the edge of the sofa, with resignation, as she returned levitating a small tea tray.
Despite the cynicism that their encounter had so far engendered in him about the likeliness of his respite, the afternoon had taken a much more pleasant turn after that. It was a trend that continued the following Sunday, and the one after that, and the one after that. Eventually, his Sunday afternoon visits to her shop became a regular occurrence, wherein she allowed him to help her with certain tasks that he had argued that she should not be undertaking in her condition – such as climbing on ladders, or brewing certain potions – and they would pass the remainder of the afternoon over a companionable tea. The nature of ‘tea’ had eventually expanded to include supper, and the nature of his Sunday visits expanded to include Friday evenings, or Saturdays, when his duties did not preclude them.
He had found himself gobsmacked to realize that he counted her among his few friends and looked forward to his time in her company. However, he was unprepared for the shock that ran through him, when during one of these visits, near Halloween, she had simply reached over and grabbed his hand in excitement, to hold it to her expansive waist, so that he could feel the baby kicking within her. He had been startled by her familiarity and the realization of the depth of feeling that he had for her and her unborn child. He had almost run away, as quickly as he could, from her and this new knowledge. He had nearly succeeded, but she had read his face, as he began to hurriedly make his excuses, and had laughed at him. He had been most indignant at what he had seen as ridicule and turned to her in fury. Hermione, however, was well known for speaking her mind and had proceeded to give him a dressing down – the likes of which he had not heard since Albus – in which she eventually convinced him that had not been her intention at all. She had then, with an uncharacteristic shyness, admitted her own feelings and hopes, and in a dizzying turn of spirit, had asked him to leave then so that he may have time to think on her words.
It had been a nerve-wracking two weeks. He vacillated between running back to the small apartment (which had become like a home to him), taking the infuriating witch who lived there in his arms to resolve this mess once and for all, and hiding himself away in his dungeons to never see her again. She had allowed him the option to remain as friends, but he knew there was no going back on this, for either of them. He had called himself all manner of fool and shored up his courage. He girded himself with determination and went to her, bearing a pot of ambrosia, dandelions and ivy – which she had taken one look at and run into his arms, understanding his intentions instantly, like the bright witch that he knew she was.
They forged ahead together. Severus quit his thankless job at the end of the Winter term, and they were married in a small ceremony. Potter and Weasley were tolerable enough, though they had done their best to mope and grouse, while sticking to the letter, if not spirit, of the explicit instructions for proper behavior issued by his very hormonal wife. Her robes had been simple, her pregnancy quite obvious in its advanced state, and her bouquet consisted of a bunch of weeds, none of which anyone seemed to find unusual, too busy as they were marveling over the strange couple. However, they pleased the happy couple well enough, and startled even their fiercest detractors by causing Severus to smile at Hermione in remembrance. Marriage suited them and they settled into a nice life together – better than anyone, even themselves, could have predicted.
When Rose Marie Snape was born early that spring, he and his wife had welcomed her with open arms and hearts, and he had raised her as his own. No one doubted his love for his wife or his daughter once they saw how truly happy the young family was. Even Potter and Weasley had grown to accept his love for their best friend, and the three men had reached a state of mutual tolerance for her sake.
Now, as he said a silent goodnight to his daughter and closed the door, he counted the many unexpected blessings he had received in the aftermath of a war he had not thought to survive. The greatest of those were his wonderful daughter, his beautiful and challenging wife, and the child growing in his wife’s womb. He had found a place of his own, and a family to be proud of and love. Life could be unpleasant and cruel, but with an uncertain future, there was always hope for a better tomorrow. He had found his. These days, he looked forward to what the future held.