Five years after the second wizarding war came to a resounding close, the ministry narrowly pushes through legislation to enforce new couplings in the wake of a potentially reduced magical population. Meanwhile disgraced war hero Severus Snape is fa...
[Hey, we are sooo sorry that we're late again. The past two weeks have been a severe pain in the ass to get everything accomplished and deal with the aftermath of holiday chaos. Though this week, we should be back on our regular schedule! This is ANOTHER very long chapter, but I think it's worth it. The next - I say with highly experimental indulgence - should be shorter 😅 If you haven't checked it out yet, we did a smutty 3-parter for the holidays which contributed a bit to our delay, but hopefully it's worth it, if you want to give it a go! That being said - enjoy this most recent of chapters and let us know what you think! Enjoy and Happy 2022!]
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CHAPTER VII: The Walk of Shame
"It has been more profitable for us to bind together in the wrong direction than to be alone in the right one." - Nassim Nicholas Taleb
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Thursday, 27th November, 2003 – Mid-Morning
Taking Severus' outstretched hand with thoughtless ease that she didn't question until after the act was done, Hermione found herself checking their surroundings with equally keen attention as they made their way out of the building proper and onto the street. It was mostly vacant so far as she could see – for now , at least, save the occasionally swiftly passing wayfarer. No one who lingered with unnecessary attentiveness, nothing suspicious as of yet.
She took a deep breath and exhaled visibly into the cold air, for two reasons. The first was, obviously, relief that there wasn't an immediate waiting mob, surely. Though the other was decidedly calming in nature – or rather subduing whatever chaotic force had her cheeks aflush and her mind in the gutter since the moment she'd walked in the door. Perhaps the beginning notes of winter filling her lungs was exactly what she needed to counteract the proximity and now direct contact with the man that her libido was apparently incapable of handling with any level of nuance and maturity. Though there was a note of thanks in that realisation, because at least things had gotten so obviously bizarre that she knew they had to be wizardly in nature. There was no other rationale for it, and she had seen some truly transmundane bits of logic in her day.
That, however, was not the current issue – though the settling of her nerves did help with processing it. The present problem was that they were, very probably, about to be openly stalked in the middle of London by wizard journalists that were just good enough at blending in to not get themselves thrown in Azkaban for the trouble.
" So... how long do you think we have until some arsehole with a camera pops up out of the woodwork?"
The young woman's hand felt odd, alien even in his own. Hers was dwarfed nearly thrice by his mammoth, stouter one and yet, its atomity within his own did inspire a certain sense of purpose for him, or rather contentment of his inner being. A sort of thing for safeguarding and a duty to defend. Not that the fellow war hero needed his protection anymore. Not really. (Though it should be noted however, that given just how many times Severus actually had had to step in to defend her – along with the other members of "The Golden Trio" – unbeknownst to them or not, as he had referenced to her momentarily ago – that progressive sentiment could, at present, perhaps, be up for some debate.) But, he was getting off subject!
