Ordinary Magic

Hermione discovered she had a flare for the dramatic as she entered the Wizengamot chamber, her long cloak billowing around her in her best impression of her new husband.
Husband. That was a terrifying word.
After their hasty marriage, Hermione had been quick to clean up and get out of the house before the Aurors arrived. Severus said very little and neither did she aside from a quick, “I’ll see you at the Ministry.”
He didn’t argue with that, waving her off as he stalked from the room. He barely looked at her, which was fine with her. They would need to speak eventually. Very little was settled between them, but there would be time to talk later. After the business of his trial was taken care of.
“You were cutting it a bit close there.” Harry quipped as she took a seat beside him. He was dressed in his Auror robes, his hair mussed and eyes tired. She knew he had trouble sleeping since the war, they all did, but with the ongoing hunt the last Death Eaters and his engagement to Ginny just last month, she wondered if he was overwhelmed.
Harry, more than anyone else, was used as a symbol by the Ministry. The Boy Who Lived Twice becoming an Auror, continuing the fight against Voldemort’s ideals while also conveniently supporting all of the Ministry’s new policies. Ron did the same, though she thought he mostly followed Harry.
She was the odd one out, now. She had chosen to take her NEWTS rather than jump straight into the Ministry, and after watching how the media trailed after Harry and Ron like a starving dog, she decided that sort of attention was not for her. She much preferred the life she had now, in the background, nearly forgotten except when she was trotted out for Order engagements. She wondered if even those would be few and far between after today.
Oh, no. The tragedy.
Hermione shrugged. “Did I miss anything?”
Harry was saved from responding by the arrival of the Wizengamot. They filled in, taking their seats. They were a relatively small group, only nine members presided over the trial, a ridiculously small number, considering the case. The doors were closed to the public, another oddity as every other Death Eater trial was all over the media. Rita Skeeter’s articles were as truthful as always, which was to say not at all, but since the announcement of Snape’s trial, there had been radio silence. None of the papers published a single article about Severus’s trial, his recovery, anything about what he had been doing during the war. Nothing.
Hermione knew it was another way for the Wizengamot to sweep this under the rug. To toss him away with the rest of the Death Eaters and to keep Snape’s role during the war as quiet as possible. If the Wizengamot had their way, Snape would be the face of the Death Eaters. Voldemort’s right hand man locked away. They could pat themselves on the back for being the true saviors of the Wizarding World, while they let the person who made the most sacrifices for the war rot in a cell.
The Chief Warlock was the last to enter. Cuthbert Fudge, cousin of Cornelius Fudge, was a short man with not a single hair on the top of his head, but a plethora of curly white hair sticking out around his ears. He had a large nose upon which perched a pair of round glasses that made his beady eyes the size of dinner plates. He looked more like a caricature of a person than an actual person. He was old enough that Hermione had wondered several times if he would just keel over before the trial reached a conclusion. They had not gotten that lucky. When he spoke, his voice reminded her of Mr. Dawes Sr. from Mary Poppins.
“Bring in the accused.”
A door opened below, the sound of rattling chains scraping against the floor preceded her new husband’s appearance.
Severus was as buttoned up as he had been earlier, but still looked odd to her without his billowing cloak. His dark eyes locked onto her instantly, narrowing fractionally before he lifted a dark brow, the question evident.
What is the grand plan?
Well, she didn’t precisely have one. She came up with this entire plan in the last forty-eight hours when it became abundantly clear that he would be going to Azkaban. She had not planned much further than actually completing the bonding. She had rather hoped at this point he would jump in with one of his speeches. She was pants at speeches.
Severus stayed silent, and she cursed him just as silently. Fine. She’d do all the leg work here.
Hermione stood as Severus was released from his shackles long enough to chain him to a chair in the center of the floor as if he might try to make a grand escape.
Harry grabbed her wrist as she made to move past him. He hissed, “Where are you going?”
“Down below.”
True enough. He didn’t ask what she was doing.
He released her, but whispered, “We’ve said all we can.”
She nodded. They had defended him until they were blue in the face, and no one seemed to be listening. Her defense was over, though. This was definitely offensive.
Hermione descended the steps slowly, her short heels clicking on the tiled floor. Finally, when she was nearly at the bottom step, a man said, “Miss Granger, what do you think you’re doing?”
Without answering, she waved at the Auror about to fasten the shackles back onto Severus’s wrists. “I think those are unnecessary.”
The same man, a younger member of the presiding Wizengamot who had slept through part of her testimony days prior, spoke again, “Miss Granger, back to your seat at once or I will have you removed.”
“Oh, I am getting to my seat.” She moved to the line of chairs meant for the council and spouse of the accused, taking a seat in the chair on the end. She adjusted her robes around her before waving at the silent Wizengamot. “You may proceed.”
Chief Warlock Fudge coughed, leaning forward in his seat as if it might make her image clearer. “Miss Granger, those seats are for family only.”
Hermione nodded. “Well observed. Precisely why I am sitting here.”
The room was silent. She thought if she listened closely, she might hear the gears turning as they did the math.
Finally, the man who originally spoke, and who Hermione distinctly disliked, said, “We do not have time for your nonsense today, Miss Granger. We are very busy, so if you could just–“
“They are dunderheads, Hermione.” Severus said, looking at her over his shoulder. She caught a brief glimpse of her professor, the same gleeful look he would get when he caught students out after curfew. “You’re going to need to explain it to them. I recommend using small words.”
Hermione offered him a small smile, enjoying the shared pleasure of ruining the Wizengamot’s day. She cleared her throat. “Right. Since you aren’t interpreting subtle hints, I’ll be more direct.” She paused just because she could. “We’re married.”
She was disappointed as silence reigned in the room for the count of five. She had hoped for whispers at least. Not even Harry said a word as Hermione stood with a sigh. “I’m sure you’re confused. I’m afraid we’ve been a bit busy for ring shopping. Isn’t that right, dearest?”
“Indeed. I’ve been a bit tied up.” Severus rattled the shackles for good measure as Hermione came to stand beside him. He was tall enough that sitting put him at eye level with her shoulder.
Fudge looked like he might pop a blood vessel. “Miss Granger, this is nonsense. You will–“
“I can think of quite a few nonsensical things, Mr. Fudge.” Hermione interrupted, “This trial for instance. Your ridiculous marriage law. The fact that you are allowed to preside over anything, but a bowl of porridge is the most nonsensical of all.”
“It is not a marriage law, Miss Granger.” The irritating man sighed. “As you have been told, it is a law designed to encourage families to have more children. I understand that, having been raised in the muggle world, our laws seem strange to you, but-“
Hermione’s spine snapped straighter with the mention of her blood status. “I have spent nearly half my life in this world. That is an ancient law designed to force women into getting married and having children, whether they wish it or not. Encouraging larger families would be to offer incentives for families with children, not demanding women sacrifice themselves like they’re being led to the slaughter.”
Before anyone was able to reprimand her, Hermione forged ahead, “That is entirely beside the point, anyway. I am no longer looking to marry as I have already done so. Today, in fact. To Severus Snape.”
“We would have been informed,” another man said. Hermione shifted her attention to him. He watched her closely, but not in an unkind way. He was the one who seemed the most likely to declare Severus not guilty. He also seemed unlikely to say a word in opposition of the Chief Warlock. “If you filed the paperwork through the Ministry, we would have been informed immediately.”
“Obviously.” Severus drawled. Hermione won the fight against her grin, but it was a close thing. Her husband continued, “There are other ways. Older, far more binding ways to be married in this world. Have none of you read a book?”
The room finally seemed to catch up with what was happening as the chatter above them grew loud enough to nearly drown out the question from Fudge. “How binding?”
Hermione silently cast a spell she had learned in her sixth year. She had found a book on raising magical children in the library, had read it out of curiosity. While she was attending primary school, what were wizarding children learning? How to identify their magic was one thing, and with the spell, she was able to learn something she should have learned from a younger age.
Casting the spell now, Hermione was surprised at the blinding light that erupted between Severus and herself. Bright white with fragmented wisps of color like a prism caught in the sun, the strains of their magic rushed between them, a never ending stream flowing from him into her and back into him. She had known that they were connected, had known it long before this day, but to see the way their magic interacted was something else. This was more than she was prepared for, the reality of their bond hit her for the first time, and she wondered at the wisdom in strengthening a bond that neither of them truly wanted.
She wanted freedom. Freedom for him. For herself.
She could live with the rest. With him.
Hermione didn’t know what Severus was thinking, his eyes blank from heavily occluding as he watched their magic, no longer his and hers separately, but theirs, flow between them.
The light blinked out as Hermione dropped the spell. Severus met her gaze and she wondered if he knew that this was more than the bonding. He couldn’t know.
She cleared her throat, addressing the Wizengamot. “That binding.”

Kingsley sat behind his desk, peering up at them tiredly. He looked irrevocably aged these past three years, taking and keeping the Minister of Magic position wearing on him over that time. It hadn’t helped that Hermione had outright refused to help in any matters associated with the persecution of Death Eaters. She wasn’t sure why the idea of throwing all of them in Azkaban didn’t sit right with her.
Then again, she remembered the Malfoys, running through the halls of Hogwarts, searching for their son. She hadn’t seen wither of them fire a single curse, for or against Voldemort. She remembered the look in Draco’s eyes as he refused to name Harry in his home, earning a clawed slap from his psychotic aunt.
Severus shifted beside her, and she cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye. He stared Kingsley down much as she had been.
No, not all Death Eaters deserved a cruel fate. Serving Voldemort was punishment enough for some.
The door was thrown open behind her, raised voices suddenly entering the space as the selective silencing charm on Kingsley’s office only worked when the door was closed. Hermione turned just in time to see Harry and Cuthbert Fudge enter the office. The two seemed to be having a disagreement.
“–standing in the way of progress! She has done nothing to assist us in putting away the last of the Death Eaters, going so far as to stand on behalf of the Malfoys, and now she has married Voldemort’s second in command.”
Hermione caught Harry’s eye roll as he followed Fudge into the room.
“Perhaps Skeeter is right, and we need to look into her involvement in certain aspects of the war. I don’t think it would surprise anyone to find out the girl is not all that she seems.”
Severus took a step forward. “Is digging up one’s past sins really the direction you’d like this discussion to go? Because I assure you, Hermione is not the one in danger of being buried beneath the weight of their indiscretions.”
“Are you threatening me?” Fudge looked ready to pop a blood vessel.
“No.” Severus eyed him down the length of his nose. “Would you like for me to be?”
“Severus, sit down.” Kingsley sighed, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. “Everyone sit.”
No one moved.
Harry said, “Can I speak to Hermione for a moment?”
Kingsley motioned for them to go, and rather than argue, Hermione stepped to the other side of the room with her best friend. She cast a muffliato before Harry spoke.
“What were you thinking?” Harry whisper-yelled. He looked at her like he didn’t know her at all. Maybe he didn’t. She certainly felt like she didn’t know herself anymore.
Instead of saying any of that, she said, “I told you we needed to help him. I told you they were going to rule against him, Harry. I only did what I said I was going to do.”
Harry scoffed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “When I agreed to help him, I thought we’d testify at his trial, maybe send him a fruit basket. I didn’t think you meant marry the greasy bat.”
“He didn’t deserve Azkaban!” Hermione felt like she couldn’t breathe. “I couldn’t let him go. You don’t understand, Harry. I couldn’t let him–“
“My mum didn’t deserve to die either, but she did.” Harry’s eyes were hard, angry. “Because of him.”
No. Harry’s mum died because of a psychopath bent on the superiority of wizards over muggles, but she knew better than to say that.
“He was punished enough.” She gripped her wrist where the knife had sliced her skin just hours before. Where another mark could be found if she dared to look. “He gave enough.”
“So did you.” Harry pulled her into a hug. It was familiar and warm. He was the closest thing she had to family now, and she clung to that. To him. He cleared his throat. “We all did. Why can’t you just let this be over? Put the war and the Death Eaters behind us, and come home. Everything can go back to the way it used to be.”
She couldn’t tell him that it didn’t feel finished. The Battle of Hogwarts had plenty of losses on both sides. Voldemort was dead. The Ministry was more than willing to hand them Orders of Merlin, pat them on their heads, and tell them what a good job they did, but it wasn’t finished. She just didn’t know why.
Pushing away from her best friend, she said, “This can’t be undone.”
“What did you do?”
She shrugged. “It was an old bonding ceremony. Old, old. There’s no way to break it.”
Which suited her just fine. Despite the look Harry was giving her just then, she knew that this was the right decision.
Dropping the muffliato, she signaled an end to the discussion. She didn’t feel the need to answer to him for her every decision when he had been absent for the last six months, barring the last week of Severus’s trial.
Since the war, Harry had been pulling away. So much so, that she had wondered many times if the only reason he and Ron kept her around before was as their personal tutor.
Harry was clearly not finished. He chose that moment to laugh humorlessly. “So that’s it then? You just go off and marry the greasy git?”
Hermione saw red. “I came to you first. Months ago. I asked for your help–asked you to get me an extension. You refused. If you haven’t noticed, I have been a little busy to go husband hunting. This killed two birds–sorry, three birds– with one stone. I’m sorry for not clearing it with you first, Chosen One, but quite frankly, I didn’t think you’d care.” Hermione took a deep breath, fighting the heated embarrassment that she knew turned her face a hideous shade of red. “Now, perhaps, at a later time, we can discuss this further, but for now, can we get the legal side of things taken care of? I would rather not spend any more time here than is necessary. No offense, Kingsley.”
The Minister for Magic sighed. “None taken. We were just discussing the particulars of the marriage. You do know children will be required, yes?”
Standing beside Severus once more, who had apparently refused a chair, she waved a hand. “Yes, yes. I read the law. I know what is required. Is that the only issue you have with it?”
“No, but it is the only one I am concerned about at the moment.” Kingsley gave Severus an arch look. “The rest will be a longer more private discussion, I expect.”
Severus sneered. “Worried about her honor, Shacklebolt?”
Fudge, who had unsurprisingly faded to the back of the room as he seemed ready to fade into the afterlife, snapped his cane against the desk with a sharp crack. “No one is worried about her honor after spending a year in a tent with two teenage boys, Snape.”
Kingsley pushed to his feet as Severus moved to tower over the much shorter, much frailer Fudge. If he had a wand, Hermione wasn’t certain Severus would have refrained from hexing Fudge. As it was, Kingsley’s words broke them apart.
“I think we can all agree that the only solution here is to allow him to acquit him of the murder of Albus Dumbledore.”
Hermione sighed in relief at both the shift in the conversation and the break in the tension. Severus cast Kingsley his signature glare, while Fudge opened his ancient mouth to speak, but Kingsley once again beat him to it.
“The publicity around the marriage is something we don’t need right now.” Kingsley sighed, sinking back into his chair. “Besides, if he’s as deserving of the Dementor’s kiss as you say, then it is only a matter of time before he commits another crime.”
The reasoning was faulty, but she wasn’t going to argue.
Internally, Hermione pointed out that Severus was smart enough not to get caught. If he had wanted to kill Dumbledore, he would have done it secretly, made it look like an accident. If he decided to kill anyone in the future, he would never be so obvious as to use an Avada.
Fudge snapped his can against the desk again. “You will allow them to make a mockery of the Ministry? One girl and a known murderer are all it takes to bring this institution to its knees? Your predecessors–“
Harry scoffed as Kingsley interrupted yet again, “My predecessors were happy to let a known murderer walk free when it was easier than admitting the truth. I see this as no different.”
After a beat, Kingsley asked, “Would you rather lose ground on your marriage law? I’m sure that if witches believe marrying a prisoner of Azkaban is an option, plenty would line up to be saved from playing broodmare.”
Hermione smiled at the subtle manipulation, but stayed quiet, letting the degrees of frustration play out on Fudge’s face. Severus, however, couldn’t resist a jibe. “As a former prisoner of Azkaban, I can speak for all current occupants when I say that I’m sure they would love for you to approve conjugal visits.”
Glaring at her husband, she barely managed to keep from jabbing her elbow into his ribs. It was a close thing.
The Wizengamot did not need his help coming up with idiotic ideas.
Fudge cracked his cane against the desk. “And when they produce no children? How long do we allow this farce to go on before there are consequences?”
“The five years attached to your law aren’t enough?” Hermione asked, watching as Fudge moved to snap his cane down again.
“Do I need to confiscate that cane, Cuthbert?” Kingsley leaned back in his seat with a raised brow. “Or are you going to use it for its intended purpose?”
Fudge lowered the cane. “Two years. And they both go to Azkaban when they do not produce a child.”
“Five,” Severus said. “And I go to Azkaban. Sending the best friend of the Boy Who Lived Too Many Times to prison sends a bad message to the public, don’t you think?”
While the entire room paused to look to Severus, who logically had no grounds to negotiate, Hermione was surprised by the fact that he argued for her. His counter offer was a touch too self-sacrificing for her taste.
“Or,” Hermione laid a hand on Severus’s arm, ignoring the pleasant zap of his magic into her, like the shock of static electricity that lingered. She felt him stiffen, but he said nothing. She sighed in relief. “Or, we stick to the original stipulations of the law: two children in five years or risk having our wands snapped.”
Fudge raised his cane, but didn’t bring it down. “And what would that accomplish?”
“Keeps things simple.” Hermione shrugged. “If there is some concern about what we will be getting up to in the meantime, give him back his position as Potions Master at Hogwarts.”
Severus turned to stone beside her. She knew he didn’t care for teaching. Everyone knew it. He might actually prefer Azkaban to taking back up his teaching career, but they hadn’t had time to discuss the specifics, and this was the only plan she had. She continued, “Hogwarts is more protected now than before. The board watches the staff like hawks. McGonagall doesn’t trust him, which works in your favor, and the students never liked him. No one will hesitate to turn him over after the war, and if, on the impossible chance that I am wrong, and he does decide to become the next Dark Lord, I will be the first to hand him over to the Dementors.”
Harry grinned. “Making Severus Snape teach for at least the next five years sounds like a fitting punishment for me. What do you think, Minister?”
Kingsley shook his head at the four of them. “I think it would get you out of my office.”
Fudge said, “And the consummation requirement? They went outside the Ministry to get married. How are we to know they’re actually fulfilling the law?”
“I find your obsession with Snape’s bedroom habits disturbing, but go ahead.” Kingsley waved a hand in Hermione’s direction. “Cast the charm.”
Hermione’s grip on Severus’s arm tightened when Fudge removed a short slender wand from his cane, lifting it to point in her direction. She reached for her own wand. “What charm?”
Kingsley lifted a hand, an order to lower her wand. She hesitated. “It’s just a monitoring charm. The simple kind Madame Pomfrey would use, except instead of being directed to a healer to monitor, the charm will go send the results to a department of the Ministry. It’s part of the new law.”
He curled his lip at the word law, and Hermione was grateful he didn’t approve of it, even if he could do little about it at the moment.
“And what happens if we miss our monthly…efforts?”
The question came from Severus. She turned to see his gaze, hard and unyielding, on Fudge’s wand. She wondered what he was thinking. His face gave away nothing, but a mild irritation. Very mild now that she considered him.
Fudge answered, “Azkaban for you. A snapped wand for your wife.”
Severus sneered, “Careful with your casting, Fudge. It would be such a shame if the spell was to rebound with that pathetic looking wand of yours. I’m surprised it still works.”
Was he seriously antagonizing the man holding them at wandpoint?
She glared at her husband. “Would you rather be married to Fudge? You both seem to be concerned for the other’s equipment.”
“As entertaining as this is, could we hurry it up?” Harry pointed out the time. “I have an Auror meeting in half an hour.”
“Why are you even here?” Severus arched a brow, giving his former student his best intimidating teacher look.
Harry was less than intimidated. He grinned. “Lunch break.”
Before anyone could respond, Fudge cast the charm with a flick of his wand. The magic settled over Hermione like a bandage. Not painful, not pleasant. Not anything really. If she didn’t concentrate on it, she likely wouldn’t know it’s there.
Yet the initial magic had her stepping back, her instinct to deflect, to defend. The war had left scars beyond the physical. Those reactions, the urge to check every room for entrances and exits, the need to carry her beaded bag with her everywhere, and the gut reaction to having a wand pointed in her direction, she could only hope those things faded with time. She could only hope that the feeling of something lingering over her shoulder was just another of those scars that cannot be seen.
She might’ve stood there for a second or an hour, it would have felt the same to her, but Kingsley’s voice dragged her back to the office and kept her from memories of running through the Forest of Dean to escape from the Snatchers.
“Any other questions, comments, or concerns?” He waited less than a breath before continuing. “Good. Congratulations on your marriage, freedom, and return to Hogwarts. Now, get out of my office.”