Marriage Law

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 13

Chapter 13 ~ Avenged

The two wizards clashed, each grabbing the other’s wrist, straining, chest to chest, body against body, each trying to drive his blade down into his opponent’s flesh while attempting wrest his knife away.

“How did you get to my wife, Lucius?” Severus growled through gritted teeth as he glared at the wizard, the tendons in his neck standing out.

“Muggle hobby. Impersonation,” Malfoy growled back.

They turned, still struggling. Severus attempted to tangle Lucius’ legs in his own. Lucius fell back to the ground and rolled, carrying the Potions Master with him, flipping him over, then scrambling in an attempt to drive his blade into him before he recovered. Severus caught him with his foot and kicked the blonde wizard back. Both scrambled to their feet, and circled each other, jabbing, feinting and slashing, trying to get close enough to strike.

Voldemort was feinting and dodging with them from his throne, his red eyes locked on the wizards, his mouth drawn up, the forked tongue flicking in and out. He was actually hissing with excitement. Now this…this was something special.

Severus dove in and Lucius spun, slashing the Potion Master’s side in passing. Severus clutched his side, feeling his hot blood pour from the wound. But it wasn’t deep. Lucius grinned.

“First blood,” he hissed, going for the wounded wizard again.

But Severus stepped to the side and brought his knife down into Lucius’ thigh with a quick downward motion, pulling it back. Lucius howled as his pants legs darkened with blood.

“You’re dead, Severus…dead,” the wizard hissed, charging the Potions Master again.

Severus met him for an instant, then turned with him, using Lucius’ own body weight to fling him away, then following, his dagger raised. Lucius stumbled, then desperately threw himself to the side, swinging his dagger back and catching Severus across the stomach with the tip of it. If the Potions Master had been any closer, he would have been disemboweled. It was a good cut however and blood poured from the slash. Severus’s black pants glistened with fresh blood, and crimson smeared both wizards’ upper bodies and arms from contact with each other.

The two men faced each other, chests heaving, eyes murderous. Somebody had to die, soon. Severus made as if to charge Lucius head on, and checked himself, just as the other wizard swung his blade, leaving his right side open for a moment. Severus saw his opportunity and drove his blade deep under Lucius’ ribs and ripped sideways opening a huge gash, which poured out blood and gore. Lucius grunted and staggered, swinging wildly at Severus as he bled horribly. His legs were weakening from loss of blood.

Severus crashed into the mortally wounded wizard, knocking him down. He straddled the wizard, and without hesitation, drove his blade straight through his windpipe with a bloodcurdling yell. Lucius’ gray eyes went wide and blood poured from his mouth and throat as he gurgled. Then his eyes dimmed and he fell still. The wizard was dead.

Severus still straddled him, glaring down at the dead wizard before he began to beat him in the face wildly, not caring that the wizard was beyond pain, reveling in the solid crunch of bone against bone, breaking the corpse’s nose and jaw, pummeling the hated face of his wife’s abuser until he had no strength left. Lucius was all but unrecognizable by the time the Potions Master finished venting his rage.

“That’s enough, Severus. Your wife has been avenged,” Voldemort said quietly, his own bloodlust sated by the violence of the irate Potions Master. Severus looked up at the Dark Lord, panting, then rose from Lucius’ body, his knuckles covered in blood. He staggered a bit from his own loss of blood. But Lucius was dead. Hermione would never have to worry about him again.

Voldemort looked at a deatheater standing by with a flask.

“Attend him,” the Dark Lord said.

The deatheater bowed then walked up to Severus, uncorked the flask and handed it to him. The Potions Master drank deeply, and felt the healing potion take effect. His bleeding stopped as did the pain.

“Thank you, my Lord,” he said to Voldemort. The Dark Lord eyed him and pointed his wand toward the ceiling. Two manacles dropped down.

“Well, Severus. You have received your satisfaction, and killed one of my most loyal deatheaters in the process. You are quite valuable to me as my eyes and ears at Hogwarts, but Lucius’ resources were important to me also. Now I shall have to wait until I can get his son’s hand of fidelity to continue the use of his wealth,” the Dark Lord said, his eyes glittering.

Two burly deatheaters walked forward and clamped the manacles securely around Severus’ wrists.

“Waiting displeases me,” Voldemort said, flicking his wand. The chains jerked upward, pulling Severus up until he hung a foot off the floor. The eyes of the deatheaters around him glinted excitedly. Two deatheaters approached, one with a large club, the other with a scourge.

“You made demands of me, Severus. You know better than to do that. I am your Lord. It is I who make demands. Obviously, you felt your duty toward your wife superseded your duty to me. Whether you were driven by love or lust I do not know, but such an act cannot be ignored. You set a bad example for the others. You felt your wife worth killing Lucius for and risking my wrath. Let us see if you still feel that way after I am through with you,” Voldemort said coldly.

The kind of loyalty Severus displayed for Hermione was the type the Dark Lord coveted for himself. Severus could not serve two masters. Voldemort nodded to the deatheater with the club. The deatheater drew it back and hit Severus in the gut as hard as he could. Severus jerked and swung in the chains from the contact, grunting against the pain, but didn’t cry out. Voldemort then nodded to the deatheater with the scourge, who walked behind the Potions Master, drew back his arm and lashed his back viciously, the little bones in the scourge digging into the Potions Master’s flesh and ripping it to bloody ribbons.

Severus’ head snapped back and his entire body tightened up as he convulsed against the pain, then relaxed. His chest heaved as he dangled, perspiring and swinging slowly, but still he didn’t cry out. His black eyes looked at the Dark Lord steadily, keeping his mind clear of the hatred he felt, knowing the Dark Lord would try to look beyond his pain. He found his small center of inner strength and clung to it, willing his mind to separate from his body, detach itself from the oncoming torment. The Dark Lord wouldn’t kill him. He only had to survive the torture. Survive and return to Hermione.

“You are strong, Severus…but you know I am stronger,” the Dark Lord said, nodding to both deatheaters again. They began to beat the Potions Master in earnest.

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Hermione spent much of her birthday asleep in the infirmary. When she was awake, she asked for Severus constantly. Pomfrey sadly told her he wasn’t in the castle, and no one had seen him. She had to give the distraught witch several calming draughts to keep her sedated enough for continued improvement Albus had left instructions that she not be disturbed by visitors, but Harry, Ron and Ginny hovered outside the infirmary for almost the entire day, missing classes as they worried over Hermione’s condition. When the Headmaster approached, all three surrounded him, shooting question after question at him.

“Where was Snape?’ Ron demanded, “He was supposed to protect her! That’s why she married him!”

Professor Snape was on patrol. As I understand it, Lord Malfoy tricked Hermione into letting him into her rooms by altering his voice to sound…”

Here, the Headmaster paused, looking at Ginny.

“…to sound like a friend,” he concluded, not wanting to make the young witch feel guilty, although she had nothing to do with Malfoy’s deception.

“Hermione said he was wicked,” Ginny said quietly, her brown eyes shifting toward the infirmary doors. “I didn’t believe he was that bad.”

“Yes, Lucius is a very sick and twisted individual. He had a lot of people fooled, Miss Weasley. What I don’t understand is why he would risk everything…his position, his name, and his freedom, in order to hurt Hermione,” Albus said.

“He probably was intending to kill her so she couldn’t tell who did it,” Harry said, his eyes narrowed hatefully. He’d like to find Malfoy Sr. and cast the Killing curse on him. He was sure he could do it. He had enough hatred in his heart.

“So, where’s Snape? Hermione’s in there all beaten up, and he’s nowhere around. He doesn’t even care,” Ron said bitterly.

The Headmaster’s eyes looked on Ron with disapproval.

“On the contrary, Mr. Weasley, the Potions Master cares very much about the welfare of his wife,” he said rather tightly. Albus was worried about the Potions Master.

“Really?” Ron said with a snort. “So where is he, then?”

Albus looked at him sadly.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Exactly,” Ron said, crossing his arms. “Probably hanging out with Malfoy. Deatheaters stick together…share their wives and stuff like that.”

Dumbledore’s face went black.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said so sharply that Ron blanched, “Don’t you ever refer to Professor Snape as a deatheater! Do you understand me? Never, in or out of my presence!”

“Yes sir,” Ron said, chastened.

“That wizard has suffered more than anyone you will ever know. He risks his life for you, for me, for the entire wizarding world every single day, and receives no thanks and no reward. He is a very courageous and selfless man, Ronald Weasley. Don’t you ever forget that!” the Headmaster seethed at the red-haired wizard.

Harry and Ginny looked at Albus, startled. They had never seen him this angry with a student before. He was absolutely livid.

Ginny looked from the Headmaster to Ron curiously. There was something going on with the Professor that she didn’t know about. She looked at Harry with narrowed eyes. She’d get him to tell her later.

Harry tried to defuse the confrontation as Ron dropped his eyes in shame. The Professor really was a hero. Ron was just frustrated and lashing out. He knew it wasn’t Snape’s fault, but he was so convenient to cast blame on.

Harry looked at Albus.

“So how is Hermione, Headmaster? Pomfrey won’t let us in to see her, and it’s her birthday,” he said, his green eyes full of disappointment. Hermione hurt and in the hospital on her eighteen birthday. This was supposed to be a happy day. She was officially an adult now.

“She is healing nicely, Harry. Pomfrey is taking good care of her,” Albus said, walking toward the infirmary door. Harry reached into his robes and pulled out an envelope.

“Will you give her this, Headmaster? It’s a birthday card,” he said, swallowing. His eyes were very wet. Albus looked down on him kindly as he took the card.

“Of course, Harry. I’m sure she will appreciate it,” he said kindly. Harry gave him a small smile. He hoped it did make her feel a little better.

“I am going to excuse you from your classes today, since you’ve already skipped them, and the circumstances are extenuating, but tomorrow I want you all in class. We will let you know when Mrs. Snape can have visitors. Now I want you all to go to supper, and then continue your day as usual. You can do nothing hanging about here,” the Headmaster said. Then he gave them all a sad smile, and entered the infirmary, closing the door behind him.

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The next day the Daily Prophet and other wizarding newspapers all carried a similar headline:

“Marriage Law Repealed!”

All over the wizarding world, people were celebrating. The Ministry was swamped with couples dissolving their marriages. There were even a couple of old married couples there, trying to get past the no-divorcing rules of normal wizard marriages to no avail.

Hermione was sitting up in bed, reading the article in the Prophet about how all the protests and outcries forced the Ministry to rescind their previous ruling. Her facial bruising was almost gone now, and her ribs were healing nicely. She could move with only a little pain now. She glanced over the article a second time. Now, she and Severus could dissolve the marriage, and she could return to Gryffindor Tower and be Hermione Granger again, her virtue intact. But why didn’t that excite her?

“Madam Pomfrey, has there been any word about Severus?” she asked the healer.

Pomfrey shook her head.

“No, Hermione. Not a peep. I’m sorry,” she replied, “If I hear anything I will be sure to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “By the way, do you know who is teaching his class?”

“I think Albus is,” Pomfrey replied. Hermione smirked. Severus would be livid if he knew the Headmaster was in his class, diddling around in his stores and probably having the class make lemon drops.

Hermione was putting up a good front, but she was worried sick about the Potions Master. He had murder in his eyes when he left her in the infirmary that night, and it had been two days since anyone had seen him. Where was he? Was he still alive?

Hermione felt tears rising and slid down in the bed, turning her face away from Pomfrey. The healer would force another calming draught down her if she caught her crying. She didn’t want him to be dead. Especially because of her. Why couldn’t he just let the Aurors handle this?

Hermione sighed.

She knew why. Because the Potions Master considered her his. Even though this had been a marriage of convenience, he felt he had a duty towards her. The idea of Lucius touching her had driven him over the edge. She was sure Severus went to track the blonde wizard down and kill him, just as he promised her he would. But Hermione felt that Azkaban would be better for the twisted wizard. That way there wouldn’t be blood on her husband’s hands. But Severus had wanted blood. Nothing else would do.

Gods, please let him be all right.