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Severus takes a sip of his wine and surveys the gardens of Prince Manor. The house elves, ecstatic at the idea of having a master to serve once more, have outdone themselves. Where there had once been a near jungle there is now a well-manicured lawn with all sorts of shrubbery arranged to make walking paths around the estate. There is a temporary dance floor set up with cocktail tables scattered about.
“A bit optimistic, aren’t you,” he asks.
“You are a powerful wizard and an intelligent man,” Lucius says with a wave of his hand. “These traits alone endear witches but on top of that you are a war hero, Severus. A man who risked it all for love.”
“Romanticize me all you wish but the devil wrapped in silk is still the devil.”
Lucius releases a long-suffering sigh. “Satin. They’re satin robes.”
“Does it honestly matter?”
“I don’t know why I bother. Wealth is utterly wasted on you.”
“Darling,” Narcissa chides. “Aiding Severus in obtaining his rightful inheritance is the very least that we owe him.”
“Narcissa—”
“Your future fiancée may be arriving any moment,” she interrupts with a stern look. “Do strive to be on your best behavior, would you?”
“If a witch is set on marrying me for access to my fortune, I think it only fair she knows exactly how hard she must work for it.”
“There will be no fortune if you fail to reach an agreement with one of them.”
“It will continue to gain interest until Lucius cajoles me into another bout of insanity with this sort of production,” he says dismissively.
“You spend your days squirreled away in a lab. How else were you to meet anyone?”
He shrugs. “Who says I wanted to?”
“You need a wife if you are to obtain—”
“Severus,” Narcissa says softly. Lucius falls silent at once and avoids eye contact with his wife. “I was under the impression that you were open to a romantic connection. If you are still—that is to say, if you are not ready for anything, I can make your excuses. Or if you would prefer something more of a business arrangement, I can direct you to the witches who—”
“Narcissa,” he interrupts, firm but not unkind. “It is far too late to cancel this event with no fanfare. Rest assured, I have moved on from Lily, and I am not opposed to romantic connection.” He looks out over the crowd of incoming witches. “I am simply not confident that that is what any of them are seeking.”
“They’re here to marry you,” Lucius points out.
“With the understanding that doing so will grant them access to Prince Manor and its vaults. That’s why we’re out here, isn’t it? The house won’t allow us inside properly, but this lets every witch see what might one day be hers.” He clears his throat. “So, no, I will not be on my best behavior. I will be myself, unapologetically, and let those chips fall where they may.”
Lucius treats him to another sigh, but Narcissa squeezes his shoulder. “I know your witch is out there somewhere.”
_____________
It is the most torturous three hours of Severus’ life. He is including the day he returned to the Dark Lord after his resurrection into that consideration. Some of the witches are blunt, offering what amounts to a business transaction and allows for discrete paramours on the side. As charming as that is, it is far preferable to the borderline theatrical performances of other witches.
He makes a strategic retreat to the corner of the conjured flooring. A breather is all he needs. Just a moment to collect himself. There is no way that he is ever going to endure an event like this again and so he resigns himself to considering one of the witches who had offered him a business arrangement. No paramours, however. If he couldn’t have love, he would accept nothing less than fidelity.
Just as he begins crossing to one such witch, he catches sight of a latecomer. He stops dead in his tracks. Hermione Granger is walking straight towards him wearing a black dress, distinctly Muggle and highly flattering to her figure. If not for the slight flush in her cheeks, he would think her utterly unaware of the attention now focused on her.
“Good evening, Severus,” she says quietly once she reaches him.
“You cannot be serious.”
She arches a brow. “Have you used up all of your charm this evening or simply failed to turn it on at all?”
“I am what I am, Granger. If you want to be my wife, you’ll need to get used to it.”
“I’m not here for your hand,” she says rolling her eyes. “I’m here because you’re impossible to pin down and this setting requires you to at least pretend to be civil should you wish to obtain the favor of one of these women.”
He scoffs. “Wealth covers a multitude of sins, I assure you.”
“Vultures,” she mutters. Then she gestures towards the floor. “Shall we dance or share a drink while we talk?”
Severus takes her arm and escorts her to a nearby table. “Now what is it you need so desperately you’re willing to appear to be a potential suitress?”
“I’m experimenting and having trouble binding ingredients.”
The problem itself is actually rather straightforward once he sets her on the right track. Her overall premise, however, intrigues him. As they discuss her ethics and methodology, Severus begins to relax into the conversation, safe in the knowledge that there’s no ulterior motive. The topic naturally shifts onto his personal projects which somehow gets him talking about spell invention. That leads into a discussion of their personal hobbies and recent recreational literature which somehow leads to—
“Would you like to see my library?”
Hermione blinks. Then her eyes narrow. “While I’m nearly certain you are not using the term euphemistically, I feel I must inform you that if you attempt to show me anything other than a stack of books, I will hex your bollocks.”
“I cannot decide if blokes using that as a euphemism or you for falling for it more than once is more embarrassing.”
Her cheeks flush slightly. She glances away and her eyes widen. “Um, Severus, your guests…”
Everyone, including the sun, has disappeared.
“How very rude. Social etiquette dictates that one should always give parting wishes to your host.” He tsks. “I suppose I’ll have to keep searching for Lady Prince.”
“Proper social etiquette is top of your list, is it?”
“Naturally. How else is she to manage my robust social life?”
Hermione snorts, covering her mouth with embarrassment at the sound. He feels… inordinately pleased.
“Will we need to apparate or is there floo access from here?”
“Unfortunately, the manor is closed to me until I wed. If you are comfortable with it, I can side-along you to my current home. While it is far humbler than this, it does come with a tea service.”
“Good tea is high on my list of library necessities.”
“I’ll try not to ruin you for other libraries,” he says as he offers her his arm. Her hand seems to sear through his robes.
They apparates directly into his sitting room. Further apologies for his space die in his throat as he watches her take in his library with wide eyes. A sense of pride comes over him as Hermione turns to him.
“I can browse them all?”
“Obviously,” he drawls. She rolls her eyes. “I will prepare the tea.”
When he returns with the tea tray, she is thoroughly engrossed in a text. Hermione looks up at the sound of him and smiles at the offering of tea. There’s another flutter in his chest. He expects her to return to the book, but she places a marker in it instead and regards him steadily.
“Did I ruin your prospects by monopolizing your time?”
“There was only one witch who inspired me to further conversation and she’s sitting before me now.”
“Really?”
He shrugs. “Is that so surprising? You were the only one there this evening actually interested in me. Well, not interested in me, but—”
“I am.”
“Pardon?”
She blushes. “This has been a rather lovely evening.”
“Are you telling me you do wish to be Lady Prince?”
“Well, no.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I believe firmly in love marriages which I know isn’t what you—”
“It is.”
“Pardon?”
“I want a love marriage,” he says firmly.
“What about your inheritance?”
“It will keep,” he says simply. “You, however, feel like a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
Her cheeks flush. “I see you’ve figured out how to turn on the charm.”
“I am direct about the things I want. And after tonight I am certain I want to court you, Hermione.”
She smiles softly. “Alright then.”