A/N Hello all, and thank you for joining me on this little adventure I have in store for you. It is temporary, I didn't want to take away their magic for too long, but Severus and Hermione have returned to you all for this short, little, non-magic, nineteenth century ficlet! Summary says it all, but a couple of changes I have to mention before we start:

I know it's atrocious and egregious, but to sound right for the times I changed the Weasley's names to Wesley, simply for however long this tiny little plot goes on. So the spelling is intentional, sorry for those who are offended, I mean no harm, simply to make it sound nice for late 1800's Britain. Think Great Expectations or The Phantom of the Opera.

Next: Hermione is a tad older than the end of the books and Severus is a tad younger. Literally, two years for Severus. It's not that big of a difference, but there's some sticklers out there so I just wanted you to be aware.

As Well: Severus had a sister. She's really not ridiculously important so... just ignore it if you'd like.

Lastly: Severus and Hermione are both wealthy. In the nicest way I can possibly put this one, just deal with it. It's for plot.

Love,

Your dutiful Authoress.

Enjoy!

~***~

Hermione looked into her mirror with all the motivation of a tired mule. She hadn't wanted to dawn one of her most elegant gowns, or tightened her corset farther than it had ever been tightened before... no.

What Hermione had wanted most, as opposed to tight hair styles and heavy jewelry, was to be out with her friends in the gardens. They had, just the week before, been frolicking happily through the roses and the ivy. The sun had been high in the clouds, and the smell of summer was pungent as the laughter from their mouths.

She had spent years in the gardens with one Harry Potter and another Ronald Wesley, with the occasional visit appropriately from Pansy Parkinson and Ronald's younger sister Ginevra who Hermione heard had recently accepted the proposal Mr. Potter had put up for her.

His family had died suddenly a year back from a fever he evaded, and she believed that this was his way of turning over a new leaf. Besides, they'd been in love for years anyways.

Hermione loved her friends dearly, even though she only got along with mostly males, which scared her parents beyond wit. It wasn't entirely proper for her to be around the men she occupied her time speaking with, yet they had not bothered to object, only give her caution.

Hermione understood that because her parents had only had a girl, and no boy to speak of, her knowledge and bright mind were frowned upon in their society. Because she had grown up in the good graces of a girl's manner's, she earned her intelligence and skills beyond reasonable doubt.

The cream-colored dress was tanning her skin, making it look like she'd spent even more time in the sun than she had that summer. Her eyes were dark brown, and they shone with a honey radiance that would have astounded her in the morning light if it weren't for her reasons for looking so neat and brushed.

Ronald would have swooned at the sight of her.

While her and Harry Potter were of a better social status than most, Mr. Wesley was not. For years she had harbored a sort of, affection, towards the boy whose family worked generously to keep the British officers ongoing. Four of five of his elder brothers worked for the police, as did their father. They lived in a large flat, while nothing spectacular like Hermione was used to, it was amenable to the Wesley's and their three children who still lived at home. His younger sister was going to be in shock when she finally was betrothed to Harry Potter.

Mr. Wesley had, she was assured, returned her affections, and they had even shared an embrace once, but it was snuffed like an unwanted candle by her parents when they'd addressed her in her very room one evening.

It was not as if she hadn't known of her predicament earlier on, but with little to hear of the family in which she was to marry into, it was hard to depend upon the bond.

Hermione Granger, was in fact, plighted to one Severus Snape whose name was as equally odd as he was. He was a doctor, and he worked at almost every hour of every day with medicines and herbs alike. It was a surprise someone like he, with a status that almost surpassed her own family's, took up such an occupation. No one really understood it, but they saw little of the man's presence in the public.

There were rumors, which made Hermione's stomach churn as she clutched at it under the bones of her corset. It was said that his money had come from a distant relative who hated all of her actual family and sent it to the most obscure of people in her relations. Another would say his hair was all fake, and he wore it like a woman would wear the skin of a fox. His clients said little but of his care and methods, but only that he had never failed to treat someone with this medicine or that.

Harry regretted letting the rumors hold him from seeking Snape out when his parents had passed on, but what was done was done. Hermione wouldn't have wanted to have seen him yet, anyways.

The way their... contract of sorts had come about was years prior when it was assumed that her own father was to marry into the Snape family. Severus Snape's elder sister was supposed to be her father's betrothed, but she passed on only days before the wedding. Therefore, he had found her mother, as well a single daughter of her family's line, and he had earned her dowry - and love - instead. With the practical insult that the Granger's had taken with Esmeralda Snape's passing, they decided that if a girl came of this marriage, the Granger's would wed her to the Snape family. Severus had been in his teens then, so he was significantly older than her now.

Hermione felt like eighteen had to be too young to marry. If only she could have actually wed Ronald, when her fifteen year-old brain had thought it such a wonderful idea. He was strong and worked very hard to help his family, and Hermione did care for him a great deal. Unfortunately, luck was none too kind. Nor was status.

Her birthday had passed a few days prior, and with it a letter was sent to the Snape mansion.

One had been brought back in almost record time for the post, and there was a meeting which she was now dressed for to discuss their commonalities.

It sounded like complete lunacy to Hermione, to marry a man she had never even seen let alone met. Her father assured her that it was going to be just fine, and that this way she need not worry over finding a suitable match for her status and honor.

Hermione almost wished to have gone through the courting process instead of be... sold because of an agreement her ancestors had made. Her father had said that the slight his family had taken was enough reason for her to simply push away any other details.

Regardless, there was little she could do to forgo the events that were bound to happen.

When she'd told Harry and Ronald she was pledged to Severus Snape, the odd, affluent doctor, they were... well, they were not what she wanted them to be, that was for certain. Hermione had expected Harry to throw a fit at her not having a choice in her marriage, and she had thought Ronald would have the largest of tantrums on her behalf at the age difference and the strange terms of which they came. She merely earned complacency, and well-wishes.

Hermione did not want well-wishes.

She wanted to never have known about Severus Snape at all.

Wants and duties were antonyms, she supposed, and her mother had told her to put on a brave face and make the family proud.

Hermione had also been confronted with one final straw to break her back, and it was almost enough to make her run off into the city and never return. She was supposed to put down her knowledge and let Master Snape take the reigns of any conversation or topic that came about. It infuriated her to no end that she would have to set aside her quite astute mind in favor of this... stranger's speech.

Regardless of it all, Hermione had dawned her cream dress and tight hairstyle and walked down her stairs, awaiting their guest's arrival.

Fury washed through her veins constantly, and she tried to suppress it when a black carriage rolled up towards their manor with two, black horses tugging it forward.

True to her nature, the steeds fascinated her, and she watched as they slowed, stoic and trained perfectly. Hermione wondered how exactly he had gotten them trained like that, and watched as the driver tied the reigns, exiting the carriage seat. He was tall and also dressed in all black, despite the still warm temperatures. She didn't mean to be intruding by watching silently from the windows, the servants of her household already clamoring to go out and retrieve him, but what else was she to do when she knew nothing. 

When Hermione heard the telling click of her mother's heels, and she snapped from the windows immediately.

"Mother, Father," she greeted, attempting to quell the fear in her voice.

"Hermione," her father said cheerfully, though she felt no cheer.

"You look lovely, darling," her mother assured, and with a smile she came forward and kissed her cheeks.

Hermione soaked in the feeling of a familiar touch, and knew soon they would cease to be so known.

"We've been anticipating this for a very long time, Hermione, since you were born and Master Snape was merely eighteen."

She shivered, feeling like there should have been a much lesser number in that proclamation.

"Wonderful."

Both of her parents smiled at her, and she heard the steps draw closer with each passing moment.

With bated breath, Hermione took her place next to her mother, watching closely as the doors were pried open and three figures walked through their threshold.

Two were her own servants, and the last was the man who had been driving the coach, which confused Hermione greatly as he removed his abnormally large top-hat. Was he the man she was to marry? No one else had come in, and it did not seem as though he planned on retrieving another.

She was struck when she saw him, though, in a confused sort of way that made her brilliance falter. His skin was pale, as though he never saw the sun for even a moment during the daytime, and his nose was disproportionate to his face. It hooked, unnaturally, and she gulped in fear at having to see that face for the rest of her life, were this truly the man she was to marry.The rest of him, she found there were no complaints from her limited experience in men. He was tall, which was nice, and he looked stronger than at first with his black hair long and tied back from his face. His eyes were black as the night, and she wondered if he was supposed to be the embodied version of a colorless painting.

Hermione was staring for far too long as he shed his cloak, an odd adornment for a grown man, and then offered the top hat to one of her servants. His gloved hands stayed so when he grasped her father's hand with attention.

They seemed... fond of each other as Master Snape addressed him by his name, Andrew, and then her father the same in return. The greeting to her mother was more proper, a Madame Granger, and then finally to her.

She went completely white under his gaze. His black eyes were... disturbing at best, and she cowered under his height. Her heels gave her no help as she looked up towards him, cheeks warming with a blush as she numbly heard her father introduce her.

"Severus, this is my daughter, Hermione Jean Granger."

"Master Snape," Hermione whispered, though she wasn't supposed to be so quiet as she curtsied.

He lifted the corner of his mouth and bent at the waist a little, but Hermione failed to call either action a smile or bow respectively. Maybe he was just as uncomfortable as she was.

"Jean? Not even pronounced the French way? Very... odd."

His voice, if any other of his features were to falsify him, was... sinful. Hermione felt sacrilegious in enjoying the drawl and smoothness of his vocals. It, unfortunately, disproved her theory that maybe he was merely uncomfortable as well.

Hermione looked at her father for permission to reply, seeing as Master Snape had not even blinked from her direction.

A nod, and she was compelled to speak.

"It was my grandmother's name, on my maternal side."

Of course, he could have guessed the last bit, he knew her father's mother! Hermione felt she was an imbecile.

"Wonderful," he said, showing no signs of bother or irritation, which relieved her greatly.

He finally gave way to their proximity and approached her father, speaking lowly of God-only-knew, leaving her and her mother to share worried and confused glances. When the men returned to the present, it was with the same cordial manner.

"Hermione, why don't you show him the gardens? It would be a good opportunity to acquaint with one-another. I believe the workers have started to tend the flowers, so you shall be plenty accompanied."

Her father was letting her into the gardens with a man that wasn't Harry or Ron, and by themselves? She felt aghast, and though there was no denying the order, she knew her suppression of knowledge would soon begin. The prospect of talking with him was horrifying, and so soon after they'd met! How her father loved to torture her.

She broke her father's comforting gaze and returned her brown eyes to black ones, uncomfortable and cold as they were. It looked as though there was nothing there but regret and... solemness. Hermione glanced at her mother quickly, but she was as encouraging as her father was.

"Master Snape, if you would follow me..." she trailed off in uncertainty as to whether or not to offer her hand or... something... anything.

"Of course," he said, and offered his arm as if reading her unease right off of her face.

Hermione risked a final look to her parents who only shooed her off before grasping his black attired arm and leading them forward into the throng of the Granger Gardens.

A/N

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! And to those who don't; Happy New Year!