This is a continuation of "Marry A Choice". It will make a whole lot more sense if you read that first, but I've been told that isn't strictly necessary. This has been posted to other archives before here, mostly because I didn't want otstart posting here until I knew when I was going to finish it (it is now finished, though not all posted), and also because I didn't know how to edit the first chapter so that it would be acceptable for FFN's ratings.
This first chapter has sex in it. It is important to the chapter and the story. I have modified it as much as I can to bring the rating down to an M, but it is still fairly racy. If that bothers you, please just skip it. Even though it is important, most of the important elements will be explained further on.
Disclaimer: I state here and for the rest of the story, I do not own these characters, nor anything else you recognize. I am not making money off of this (as if I could! *pshaw*) and all the genius and wealth belongs to JK Rowling and her conglomerate.
To recap Marry A Choice:
Five days prior, Hermione found out that an insane bill was about to become law: a law that would force her to marry a pureblood and bear him two children, stripping her powers until she had accomplished that feat. Needless to say, she was not pleased.
Dumbledore had a plan, though. He encouraged her to get married before the bill became law, as the law would only apply to single witches and wizards. She, of course, jumped at the opportunity.
Unfortunately, Ron had died just after the victory battle, leaving her loveless and alone. Not to be deterred, she interviewed about a dozen men, but only two passed her charmed test. She wasn't displeased that Remus was one of the two, but she was downright disturbed that Snape was the other one. She didn't worry about Snape's results too much, though, as he had only taken the test out of curiosity. The idea of him wanting to marry her was laughable, after all.
As the days went by, she learned that marrying Remus might be a really bad idea, but she felt as though she didn't have any other options. She wasn't willing to consider Snape because he, first of all, hadn't declared himself a suitor, but he was also mean, ugly and a horrible teacher. Then, on Friday, the night of the full moon, he lost control and slammed her against the wall after a heated exchange of another sort altogether. Both encounters with him scared her very much, though for very different reasons.
By Saturday night, Snape had apologized twice, ingratiated himself to her parents, declared he had feelings for her, and said he wanted a chance. Her mind boggled at the prospect, and she wondered if Hell had frozen over. She couldn't help thawing toward him slightly, but she was still scared.
By Sunday morning, she realized she should have given Snape a fair chance, but when she went to tell him that, she couldn't find him. So she walked down the aisle to marry Remus, regretting her choice, but following through because being married to Remus would be better than Lucius Malfoy any day. That's what she kept telling herself, anyway.
Then, just as Dumbledore was about to proceed with the ceremony after reciting the banns to a silent hall, the doors burst open, and Snape strode down the aisle, calling out his objection. A few slight miscommunications later and Hermione was standing next to Snape, happy that she had been given a reprieve after all.
She had no idea what she was getting herself into.
Chapter 1:
Hermione entered her new quarters with a sense of escape; it wasn't everyday Snape's room could be considered a refuge, but that day definitely qualified. She and Severus looked at each other for a long moment before both of them heaved a sigh of relief.
"I take it you enjoyed the reception as much as I did?" Snape asked, before sitting down with a sigh.
Hermione snorted in response. "At least you were able to hide away at the staff table. I had the glorious task of doing the rounds and explaining, five million times, that no, I was not pregnant with your illicit love-child, and that no, my grades were not a reflection of my fu-- of my sexual status!" She let out a frustrated huff and sat down across from Snape with another sigh.
"Don't exaggerate," he rebuked mildly.
"Okay, maybe it was only one million times," she said, slightly exasperated. "You could have helped out, you know."
"More than rescuing you from the clutches of a pledged werewolf, you mean?" he said with a smirk.
She glared back "If you had simply stood by my side, more than half the students would have thought twice before accosting me with their stupid questions and accusations. And none of them would have dared to ask twice."
Snape's smirk grew a bit broader which served to make Hermione grind her teeth in frustration. "Is this how it's going to be? Are you going to leave me to helplessly fight both our battles while you sit back and say, 'Well, I saved you from the werewolf; what more do you expect?'"
"Of course not. After all, you're hardly helpless," he replied. At her huff of indignation, Snape's smirk grew into a smile, and he chuckled lightly. Hermione looked at her husband and wondered yet again what she had gotten herself in for.
"Why did I marry you, again?" she asked, only half joking.
He smirked yet again and said, "Because you have exquisite taste, my dear."
She chuckled despite herself. They sat there looking at each other for a few moments before Hermione realized, in a way she hadn't before, that she was married to the man before her. Snape. Severus. She and Severus would be sharing their life together. She and Snape would be sharing a bed together. She shivered involuntarily.
"Are you cold?" Snape asked, noticing her shiver.
She shook her head, then turned to stare into the empty fireplace. Without even thinking about it, she started rubbing her arms and sat there thinking about the situation she had gotten herself into. She didn't notice when Snape got up from his spot until she felt a blanket being wrapped around her shoulders.
"I would prefer you not lie to me, Hermione," he said. Looking up, she found herself confronted with Snape who was looking decidedly tender as he tucked the blanket around her, then gently pulled her hair out from underneath the edge.
She smiled up at him. "I wasn't lying, Severus. I didn't realize I was cold until you gave me this," she said, clutching the blanket gratefully.
He inclined his head in acceptance, then moved to sit down again. Hermione watched him, wondering what it was going be like to live with him for the rest of her life. She wondered if she was brave enough to go through with the marriage. It wasn't final until they consummated it, so she still had time to back out if she wished. She made up her mind on the matter before he reached his seat.
Standing abruptly, she moved toward him with a plan. "Severus, I think I would like to change into something a little less..." She gestured at her skirt when adjectives failed her.
"Frothy?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow. She nodded.
"My," he stopped, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Our bedroom is through that door. I imagine the house-elves have transferred your clothing here already."
She nodded again and feigned to move toward the bedroom, stopping halfway, and then turned around hesitantly. "Um, I think, er, would you undo me please?" she asked, turning to reveal her back lined with small, round buttons. She hadn't intended to blush, but found herself doing so as she looked over her shoulder and caught Snape staring at her form with a mixture of desire and consternation.
Swallowing, he nodded curtly and strode forward, stepping up to her back. She felt the heat radiating off him as he began to undo the buttons slowly and wondered if it was an accident the way his fingers seemed to quickly caress the newly revealed skin as they moved on to the next button. Whether by accident or design, she found herself shivering and hoping he would touch her a little more with each button.
Halfway down, she felt his lips on her spine and almost jumped, but she quickly relaxed into the tiny kisses he was trailing down her back. She nearly moaned when he reached the last button and moved his hands around her waist, holding her still as he placed one last, lingering kiss upon the small of her back, and did let a small groan escape when he removed his hands and backed away, leaving her very aware of the cool dungeon air.
Turning around slowly, she found him staring down at her inscrutably. She stepped toward him and bit down a grin as his cool demeanor was belied by a hitch in his breath.
She looked up at him and wondered if he was going to make any move. She didn't know how much longer her courage was going to last; he was wearing his mask again, and she couldn't read him.
She stood there, a foot away, looking at Severus. She took in all of his features, which were starkly revealed with his new hair cut. Even though she couldn't ever imagine thinking of him as handsome, there was an appeal to his face. She thought it was his eyes: those dark, dangerous, glittering eyes.
Her courage suddenly failed, and she backed up half a step.
"Thank you," she said and turned to go. Before she started her pivot, she suddenly found herself pulled against him.
"I know what you're trying to do, Hermione," he growled right before he captured her mouth in a blistering kiss.
She was overwhelmed by the force of his passion, but she reminded herself he was her husband. She reached out blindly for his chest, wanting to feel him, but just as her hands had reached the curve of his ribcage, his arms shot out and wrapped around her possessively, drawing her closer until there was no room left between them. She found her arms wrapping themselves around his waist, trying to pull him closer as his hands ran up and down her back, forcefully claiming all her exposed flesh as his, while he kissed her with something akin to desperation.
After an eternity he broke away, panting for breath, but he didn't let her go. "Oh, Hermione," he breathed, kissing her ear as he rested his head next to hers. She instinctively squeezed him in comfort and felt his embrace tighten as well. Confused, she buried her face in his robes, trying to hide her bewilderment at his behavior: cold and sneering one second, and the next, he's kissing her as if his life depended on it. She was actually a little bothered by his desperation, but she didn't want to hurt him by retreating. Instead she just held onto him as he clung to her.
They stood there for a minute before he relaxed his grip and backed away, his face blank once more. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
She shook her head and smiled, unsure of her voice.
"I imagine you are developing quite a chill, exposed as you are. I suggest you find something more appropriate to wear," he continued coolly, turning away from her with effort. She watched as he looked about for a diversion, but before he could make up his mind, she closed the distance between them and took his hand in hers. When he visibly started at her touch, she bit back another grin.
"I think we should both find more appropriate attire, Severus." She tugged on his hand as she moved toward the bedroom, but he didn't move. He was looking awkward again.
"Wouldn't you be more comfortable changing on your own?" he asked.
She considered her response carefully, taking his request for honesty to heart. "I might be more comfortable in the short term, but I imagine that after a couple of years, it will be more awkward and embarrassing if I still need to change in private." She shrugged. "No sense delaying the inevitable."
He looked at her again, and this time she could tell he was uncomfortable. Is he nervous? she thought, bemused. She didn't know how to reassure him, or even bring about the subject, so she just tugged again, and drew him into the bedroom with her.
As she looked around his bedroom she was impressed by how normal it was. No chains hanging from the walls or ceiling, no trapezes, or any other signs of weird tastes. If anything, it reminded her of her parents bedroom with the nice, sedate furniture and plain bare walls. As she spun around for the full view, she caught Snape looking at her, amused.
"Does everything meet you expectations?" he said, barely containing a smirk.
"Hardly, but it'll do," she answered dryly. Unfazed, he nodded and came toward her. Her heart sped up a little, and she realized she was nervous. She stood still and focused on maintaining even breaths as Snape approached her -- then walked on by.
"Hey, where are you going?" she cried, a little put out.
He looked at her as if she was mentally deficient. "To fetch my clothes. That is why you dragged me in here, was it not?"
She closed her eyes in frustration and counted to ten before opening them. Snape was looking amused again.
"Are you going to play dumb for the entire evening?" she said, barely controlling her voice.
"I have no idea what you mean," he said as he turned toward the wardrobe.
"You do too, you... you... you insufferable man!"
He remained facing the wardrobe, digging through the shelves for something. "You are under the misapprehension that I am a know-it-all, Madam. I believe it is you who holds that title."
Hermione stared at her husband's back, trying to remain calm, and failing miserably. "Ooh!" she huffed, unable to articulate further.
He turned around at the exclamation and tried to look innocent, but his lips were betraying him by twitching violently. If anything, that made Hermione even angrier.
"Didn't I tell you how much your stupid games piss me off?" she said as she reached down to tear her shoes off, sorely tempted to throw them at him, hurtling them into the corner instead.
"I believe you said that you found it disrespectful, but that was only when you were contemplating a rash and idiotic course of action. I'm sorry. I meant to say, noble and brave self-sacrifice," he said blandly as he undid his robes.
"And you didn't manage to infer from that statement that it annoys the hell out of me?" she yelled, trying to raise her hands up, but finding the loose bodice and dangling sleeves constricting her movements. In a fit of pique, she pulled her sleeves off harshly, not caring if she damaged the fabric, and shoved the skirt down forcefully when it decided to stand on its own around her waist. "I thought you were a master at subtlety, deception and... and all that is Slytherin!" she continued.
"Who's impugning a rival House now?" Snape mocked as he finished undoing his frock coat and tossed it casually over a chair in the corner. "And how do you expect me to infer anything when you are so straightforward and honest about everything?" he said calmly, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
She looked daggers at him and stomped out of her skirt. "Well, now that I know what you expect of me, I suppose I'll have to lose any subtlety I possess, for heaven forbid I confuse you by saying anything complex," she huffed.
He snorted. "Thank you for the thought, my dear, but you needn't go to the effort. Now that I know there might be a hidden meaning in anything you say, I shall keep my ear attuned to the possible by-plays. I am capable of change, after all."
She looked at the crumpled dress on the floor, avoiding her husband's mocking gaze. Deciding the dress deserved a little more respect than she had shown it so far, she picked up it and dusted it off gently, her anger gradually ebbing as her newfound humor returned.
She snorted as she processed what he'd said as she laid the dress down over another chair, and shook her head, grinning. "It's no trouble. I'm s--" she stopped when she turned around and found Snape standing before her in nothing but a pair of black slippers.
"Nice slippers," she said, trying to suppress her urge to laugh. She had a feeling Severus wouldn't like that.
He looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes. "Thank you. They were a Christmas present from Albus a couple of years ago. Of course, originally they were purple with gold stars..."
She couldn't help the snicker that escaped, but quickly covered her mouth to muffle it. Snape smirked impishly and raised an eyebrow, then stepped toward her, stopping within arm's reach.
"Now what games of mine were you upset about?"
She tried to frown, but her smile peeked through. "You are an insufferable man."
He moved forward by half a step. "And you are a beautiful woman." She blushed and looked away from his sincere eyes, turning her attention to the next nearest thing, which happened to be his body.
Hermione kept her face impassive as she looked over Severus' naked form. When her gaze reached his groin, however, her brow furrowed in consternation.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing.
His lips twitched up in amusement, but he answered seriously. "That is a penis, my dear."
Hermione sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes. "I know what that is, thank you very much. I was wondering what this is," she said, as she stepped toward him and pointed at a small red spot just below his hairline.
He looked down at where she was pointing and furrowed his brow to match hers.
"I'm not sure. I expect it's nothing."
Hermione looked up at him with impatience in her eyes. "Well, even if it is nothing, I would prefer it get checked out before you, we, well, you know," she said awkwardly.
For a moment, Snape looked at Hermione blankly before his expression cleared with comprehension. Then he just looked offended.
"I can assure you I do not have any... any social diseases."
Hermione choked slightly before bursting into a bout of giggles. She looked up at Snape and immediately tried to quell the laughter, as he looked more angry than offended by her reaction.
"I'm sorry, Severus, it's just such an old fashioned term..." She tried very hard not to giggle again, but failed, falling back onto the bed laughing. It was only when she felt the bed dip beside her and looked over at Severus that her urge to laugh died. He looked heartbroken.
"I really am sorry, Severus. I didn't mean to offend you."
"Maybe this isn't a good idea," he said slowly.
"What do you mean?"
"It's obvious that we're not suited for each other, and I think maybe we should try to find you someone closer to your own age."
Hermione looked at him, shocked for a moment, before becoming offended herself.
"If this is only about age, Severus, I can assure you my childish tendencies won't last forever. I will grow up, and in the meantime, I will try my hardest not to embarrass you in public."
When she saw him close his eyes, her anger softened into a mild peeved state. "Severus, please look at me." He opened his eyes and turned to face her.
"Severus, I can't honestly say I love you, but then, I've only just stopped thinking of you as my cruel teacher. Give me a bit of time, and I am sure we'll be able to overcome any differences that arise, but that's only if you help me out."
Severus looked at her, his face blank once again. "We are not suited for each other."
"I don't think Ron and I were particularly well suited either, but we loved each other and tried our hardest to overcome any problems."
"I am an old man, Hermione," Severus started, but Hermione snorted at the statement.
"You are not old, Severus. You aren't even middle aged."
"Chronologically I may still be fairly young, but in experience, I believe I may be older than Minerva."
"Okay, so instead of being shiny and new, you're my knight in rusty armor," she quipped.
He looked at her for a moment, then laughed for the second time in her presence. She watched him, smiling, until he caught his breath and looked back at her. Her smile faded slightly into nervousness as she recognized the passion in his eyes.
Standing up abruptly, she walked away from the bed before facing him. His mask was back in place as he stared at her blankly.
"Severus, I think you should get that spot checked out before we start anything."
He looked down at the offending spot, and back at her, exasperation plain to see.
"As I said before, I can assure you I am not going to give you any hideous disease."
"I know, but I would really, really like to be sure."
"And even if I did, there are potions for most of them."
"You aren't exactly making the best case for yourself. Go see Poppy. If it's nothing contagious, then I promise not to bring it up again."
He looked at her for a moment more. She was fairly nervous, not knowing what he was thinking behind that cool exterior, but she was determined not to back down. She didn't know she was holding her breath until she let it out with a sigh as he nodded, summoning his robes from the chair.
"Will you take my word for it, or will Poppy need to tell you herself?" he asked, a note of resentment in his voice.
"I... I trust you to tell me the truth."
He looked at her again with his penetrating stare, then quirked his lips up slightly. "Then I will be back shortly, my dear. Please do wait up."
She laughed nervously, but felt a slight warmth toward her husband as he kissed her cheek lightly and headed for the sitting room and the Floo.
She looked around her new room and decided she might as well make herself comfortable. Putting on a nightshirt, she climbed into bed, covering herself with the cushy duvet and sighing as she felt a bit of warmth return to her limbs.
Fifteen minutes later, she heard the flames change as Severus came through. She started sitting up, but the shock of cool air made her burrow back under the covers. She lowered the sheets enough to see over the mounds of fabric just as Severus came in with a distinctly peeved look on his face.
He looked around, then caught sight of the mound in the bed. His face softened minutely before the scowl came back.
"As it turns out, I do have a communicable disease," he bit out, not moving any closer.
"Oh, no! What do you have?"
"Chicken pox."
Hermione threw back the covers and sat up, ignoring the chill, and looked at Severus incredulously. "Chicken pox?"
"That's what I said," he replied testily, still not moving closer.
"Well, isn't there a potion or a spell to cure it?"
"Unfortunately, no. There's a potion that accelerates the process, but no outright cure."
"Have you taken the potion?" she asked, and he answered by holding up a small bottle that was full of a putrid yellow fluid. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she said, "Well, you might as well come over here and take it, then."
"I suggest you go back to your dormitory. I wouldn't want to renege on my promise, now would I?" Realizing he was staying away for her benefit, she felt another tendril of affection for her husband.
Smiling, she answered, "Oh, don't worry about giving it to me. I've already had it, and you can only get it once."
His face grew dark for a moment, then he strode forward and sat down beside her with bad grace. "You could have told me that at the beginning of the conversation."
She giggled and scooted over on the bed, making room for him. "I'm sorry. It didn't occur to me." She looked at the bottle in his hand and frowned in thought.
"How fast does the potion work?"
"I'll be free of pock marks 24 hours after I ingest this," he said, a sneer curling his lip. She wondered if he usually avoided potions and internally sniggered at the irony.
"You said it accelerates the process. Does that mean that as soon as you take the potion you'll start blooming?"
His look at the word 'blooming' had her biting back more giggles. "Yes, I will start... blooming, as you put it, almost immediately."
"Well, then, might I suggest you take the potion afterwards?"
"After what, Madam?" he asked wearily, as he bent down to remove his slippers.
She fidgeted, embarrassed. "Er, after we, you know, consummate the marriage."
He looked at her sharply, and she could swear he was taken aback by her statement.
"Are you sure you wish to be married to me?" he asked. "Once we consummate the marriage, we will be married for life."
"I was the one who asked you to marry me, if I recall correctly."
"Yes, well, as I told you at the time, it isn't proper etiquette, so your proposal wasn't valid."
"Do you really believe that chauvinistic nonsense?"
"It is not nonsense, nor is it chauvinistic! A man should be the pursuer, not the other way around. For the entirety of the chase, the man should follow the cues given by the woman, and the chase only ends when the proposal is accepted, thereby giving the woman all the power in the courtship."
"Power which dissolves when the marriage takes place, and we are relegated to the role of subservient mistress for the rest of our lives?"
"Nonsense. You'll always have complete control over household matters."
Hermione's mouth dropped open as she stared at the stranger before her. She couldn't believe she had married a man so backwards as to believe all that Regency crap. She could feel her face grow red as she outlined her argument in her head -- then she noticed the glint in his eye and the slight twitch of his lips.
"You bastard! You're purposely winding me up! Why the hell do you insist on making me so crazy?" she yelled.
"Because you're absolutely magnificent when you're angry," he said as he leaned in to capture her lips.
She was tempted to push him away, but then he tenderly skimmed his hand across her shoulder and up her neck and felt him trace a line along her face. She melted just a little more at his show of tender affection; she couldn't help but feel loved, but she also couldn't dismiss his words.
Putting her hands on his chest, she gently pushed him away and looked him in the eye. "You don't believe that nonsense, do you? All that about women?"
Smirking, he looked at her and said, "If I did, I highly doubt I would want you as my bride," then chuckled with self-satisfaction before resuming where he had left off.
Before she could object, his mouth took her words away, and his hands smoothed out any wrinkles of discontent. She closed her eyes and felt him against her, his hands caressing her gently through the nightshirt.
Just as she was becoming hot and bothered, he pulled away.
She pouted slightly until he quickly disrobed, then reached forward for her nightshirt, sliding the fabric up her torso with exquisite attention to detail. His fingers were wrapped around her back, touching her so lightly it almost tickled, while his thumbs, those delightful thumbs, circled their way up her torso.
He slipped the nightshirt off her, then continued his physical examination; his fingers delicately traced her curves as she relaxed onto the bed. When he started fiddling with her breasts, however, she inwardly groaned, preparing herself for half an hour of monotony.
The silent groan became a moan as he began manipulating her breasts, turning her skin into a sensitive ball of fluff. He brushed it just enough to set her nerves on high alert, sending out an urgent message to her center. Luckily, her center issued the proper countersigns, and communication was established.
"I want some part of you in me!" she gasped.
Oh?" he replied coolly. "Maybe my knee?"
"Too big," she breathed, too occupied to be annoyed
"How about my fingers?" he said and promptly gave her an example. She started coming down, and he noticed with a smirk. "Hmm. Fingers fit, but they don't seem to feel as good there, do they? You sure you don't want me to feel you like this?" he asked innocently, as his fingers came out to rub her again. "Are you sure you don't want this?"
"Yes!" she gasped, as the intensity returned, but the burning was getting too intense again. She needed release. "I want this, but I need you in me!"
He continued rubbing her, bringing her closer and closer to her peak. If her eyes had been open she would have seen him smirking at her. "Well, my knee's too big, and my fingers are occupied... What else is there?"
"Use your imagination!" she cried, the intensity almost too much to bear.
"I don't think that would feel like much," he replied.
She momentarily opened her eyes enough to glare at him, but she couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping. His smirk grew wider, and she lost control. Somewhere, amidst the laughter, she could feel his hands on her, still rubbing her the right way, keeping her near the edge of oblivion. Soon her chuckles became gasps as she felt the power rise once again.
No longer laughing, she opened her eyes to look at her new husband, the virtual stranger who was conjuring passion she had only glimpsed before. Her gaze drifted over him, drinking in his form. Her progress stalled as she came to his eyes and saw every emotion laid bare. She was expecting the lust and was unsurprised by the tenderness, but when she caught a hint of fear lurking beneath, something in her heart moved toward him. She smiled gently and held out her hand, beckoning him to come closer.
He tore his gaze from hers to look at her hand. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out with his free hand and grasped hers, lowering himself to kiss her hand possessively.
She watched, completely fascinated. He held her hand to his mouth, closing his eyes tightly as he turned her hand over to kiss her palm. She could feel his mouth moving against her skin as if he were talking, but no sound escaped his lips. She was aware that he had stopped touching her, but she didn't care. She held her breath as he made love to her hand, finding herself moved by the almost painful intimacy.
His eyes remained shut as he moved her hand to his cheek and held it there, enveloped within his hand. After a breathless moment, he opened his eyes to her, baring his soul. She felt her chest constrict as he looked at her as if she was his sole reason for existence. She swallowed thickly, amazed at how much a single look could affect her.
Entranced, she watched as he lowered his gaze to her lips and then back to her hand, which he kissed gently once more. He then reconnected with her eyes and slowly guided her hand from his cheek down his neck to his shoulders, demanding her full attention.
He released her hand when she broke eye contact with him, wanting to see, as well as feel, what she was touching. She sat up to look at his skin, at all the little fissures and bumps he had collected with age and ill-use. One long, almost invisible scar ran from his left collar bone down to his last rib, almost bisecting his torso.
She looked up at him questioningly and found his mask in place once again. Deciding not to pry, she looked back down as her hand slid across his belly, and over to his thigh.
"You have wonderful legs," she whispered, suddenly aware of how quiet it was in the room. She caressed his thigh as she spoke.
"Thank you," he responded quietly, placing his hand over hers gently.
Startled by his words, as much as by his gesture, she looked up at him. He was watching her carefully, and although there was tenderness in his gaze, he seemed wary as well.
"Don't worry. I'll be gentle." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She froze, waiting for his response.
To her relief, he chuckled and leaned in for a tender kiss upon her cheek, then moved to whisper huskily in her ear, "And if I want it rough?" He retreated just enough to see her face, smirking all the while.
"Then you'll have to remove the Disillusionment Charm on the manacles lining the walls."
She smiled as he threw back his head and laughed that deep, wonderful, clear laugh of his. She moved forward just slightly so that when he brought his head forward again, she was inches from his lips, intending to pounce.
She didn't get the chance.
Moving forward with the speed of a snake, he kissed her so hard she lost her balance and fell back onto the sheets. Following her lips as if he were a magnet, he continued kissing her, his lips never leaving hers even as he repositioned himself over her.
She relished the feel of his body on top of hers, pinning her to the bed in that delightful way. She also remembered why she had been nervous, as his intensity was overwhelming her, taking over her senses and filling them with his need, his desire, his love.
She felt the love this time round. She couldn't miss it. It was obvious in the way he stroked her head gently, though he was ravaging her mouth almost violently. It was obvious in the way he held himself up just slightly, so as not to crush her too much. It was obvious in the way he was doing this for her. All of this.
She melted into his kisses, encouraging him by running her hands through his hair, along his shoulders, down his back. Her hands always seemed to end up in his hair, though. His short, oily hair, which was only barely covering the nape of his skinny neck.
Panting, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. "Oh, Hermione," he said, his voice almost breaking with emotion. She smiled up at him, trying not to think of Ron using the same words with the same intonation. Her throat constricted, and she closed her eyes against the tears. She tried to hold her smile in place, but the damage was done.
"What's wrong?" he asked, withdrawing from her.
She shook her head and turned away from him, trying to keep from crying. She could feel Snape's eyes on her and felt so exposed and vulnerable. Suddenly his weight was gone, leaving her feeling even more alone. She knew there was no stopping the tears as she turned onto her side and curled up slightly.
"I'm so-sorry," she sobbed, still keeping her eyes screwed firmly shut. She didn't think she could stand to see his contempt at that moment.
The next thing she knew she was being scooped up into his arms and deposited on his lap as he cradled her awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, too," he said, squeezing her against him slightly. He sounded so uncomfortable and pained, which only made her cry harder.
"It's, it's n-not your fault, Sev-Severus," she bawled into his shoulder.
"No, but I hate to see you feel this way."
She heaved another sob and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, sniffling. He looked so sad, so beaten, that she only barely managed to subdue another outburst, converting it into a hiccup.
"Will the pain ever go away?" she croaked, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She noticed him wince slightly and flushed in embarrassment.
"It fades in time. The unfortunate irony is that hurts almost as much."
She smiled weakly and nodded her head, still sniffling. He reached around her and procured a handkerchief from sight unseen. She accepted the cloth gratefully and wiped her eyes before blowing her nose noisily.
She stared morosely at the used handkerchief, avoiding Severus' eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"I do have other handkerchiefs, Hermione. And if all else fails, I can get this one laundered. It's not the end of the world."
She smiled weakly, but she still didn't dare look up.
"It's not fair! Everything was going so well! You were being so... You felt so good, and then I have to go screw everything up by crying, yet again!"
"Well, truth be told, I'd far rather you be crying before my performance than after or, God forbid, during."
She laughed with a little more feeling and looked up at him, sniffling. "I imagine I look a fright now."
He smiled gently and brushed a stray hair from her face. "Earlier today, I almost smiled because it was obvious you had been crying."
"Your empathy knows no bounds."
"I almost smiled because your red, puffy eyes were the most beautiful sight to me. It meant you had come to your senses and didn't want to marry Lupin after all. It meant you might be willing to accept me."
She smiled sadly at him, thinking of the past week. "I'm sorry."
"Mm," he replied and kissed her softly on the brow.
She shifted around on his lap and snuggled into his chest a little more, managing to elbow him only once in the process. After they had settled into a mutually comfortable position, she leaned her head on his shoulder, suddenly drowsy. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked mindlessly.
"Would you prefer I tell you to stop your sniveling and I dump you on the floor? I can accommodate you if that's what you wish."
"No, you arse. I like this, but at the same time, you don't seem... yourself. I never feel like I should trust you when you're being nice or charming or sensitive."
Snape snorted. "Madam! Kindly refrain from using that last word in any description of me ever again!" he said quite sharply. She looked up in question just in time to see him mask a hurt look.
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes again. "I'm sorry. It seems I can't do anything right these days. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm sorry I was so thoughtless."
He closed his eyes with a pained expression.
"Enough with the apologies! They are growing wearisome. And if you are about to embark on a bout of self-pity, then I probably will tell you to stop whinging as I shove you to the floor."
"I'll stop then," she said hastily. "I'm much too comfortable here to be so rudely interrupted." She snuggled further into his arms as proof.
He let out a sigh she couldn't interpret. "As comfortable as this is for you, my arm is going numb, and you are getting cold. I suggest we move somewhere warmer."
Hermione pouted slightly, but managed to extricate herself from Snape's lap in a timely manner. He didn't bother getting up, lifting the covers to scoot down under them. She wondered how he managed to do that gracefully.
He held the covers back for her, and she got in beside him. As soon as the duvet covered her, she realized how cold she had become and scooted up to him for warmth.
"Damn, girl!" he cried as he lurched away from her. "You really must warn a person before placing your icy feet of Death upon them!"
"S- Well, I would apologize, but you told me to quit that, so I won't," she said, trying to suppress a giggle. He grunted something that sounded suspiciously like "ungrateful wench" as he returned to his place next to her, curling himself around her, though carefully avoiding her feet. She snuggled up to him a little more, wondering how they managed to fit together so well. She sighed contentedly when he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her even closer.
"You feel good," she murmured sleepily.
"As do you," he replied, adding, "except for your feet, of course. They're simply dangerous."
She giggled slightly and snuggled closer, pressing her bum up to him, wondering why she was surprised to find him hard. Suddenly very awake, and very curious, she was overcome with an adventurous urge to tease him. She knew it was a dangerous activity, but she felt reckless.
She wiggled her bum around on him, as if trying to get comfortable. "Well, you did feel good, but there's something in the way here," she said with an extra push for emphasis. She could feel him pulling away, so she reached behind her and grabbed him, making him gasp.
"Sorry, are my hands cold?" she asked innocently, looking over her shoulder to grin at him.
"Nothing I can't withstand," he said, gritting his teeth.
"So glad to hear it," she said as she rubbed him slightly, making him gasp again. When she heard him rumble just slightly, she smirked to herself and said, "Now where to put this offending appendage so it isn't in the way?"
"I can think of two highly rated places, myself," he growled in her ear.
"Oh?" she said as she turned onto her back to look at him. He propped himself up on an elbow and loomed over her, smirking.
"Yes, although you've just covered one of the holes up."
She faked a grimace. "I didn't realize there were holes in the mattress. Maybe you should consider getting a new one."
He moved over her, still smirking. "I'll take that suggestion under consideration, but for now, maybe it would be best to properly stow away my offending appendage in the available slot?"
"Mm. That might be a good idea," she said as he slowly lowered himself onto her in a brilliant show of upper body strength. She met his lips before he finished his descent and quickly found herself melting into him once more.
His body pressed against hers as he pulled away from her lips and looked at her. He took his right hand and brushed another stray hair from her face, tracing the edge of her jaw and her neck, creating goosebumps down her arms and legs.
Before she could even moan her pleasure, though, there was an urgent knock on the door.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Snape and Hermione exclaimed in unison, turning to glare at the door.
"Ignore it," Snape said, turning his attention back to his bride. She nodded, and they unconsciously held their breath waiting for the idiot to knock again.
They didn't have to wait long. A few seconds and another round of knocks later, a tentative voice called out, "Professor?" It was a voice they both recognized and had absolutely no desire to hear at that moment.
Before Snape could even groan, Hermione had found her wand, used the Sonorus Charm on herself and started yelling. "Draco Malfoy, if you don't bugger off in the next five seconds, I promise Madam Pomfrey will NOT be able to put you back together again after I'm through with you!"
Ending the charm, she turned back to her husband only to find him smirking at her yet again.
"What?" she snapped, still royally pissed off at the interruption.
"I knew there was a reason I wanted you in the first place," he said and then claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss she gladly returned.
His touch was less tender than scorching as his hand snaked down her body. He paused to circle her breast playfully before moving on down her side and insinuating his fingers between the two of them, rekindling the fire he'd been stoking the entire afternoon.
His lips left hers and moved down her jaw to the tender spot below her ear. She moaned her pleasure once more, barely aware of his body sliding down hers, until he moved up again.
"My wife," he whispered into her ear, then claimed her. Her breath escaped in a gush.
He stilled for a moment; she felt his eyes on her face. She looked up at her husband and smiled. She wasn't sure he was the best person for her, but his eyes shone for her alone, and that moved her as much as his grand gesture had.
"Severus," she whispered back. He closed his eyes, and she felt a shiver run through him before he started moving.
She watched him, musing how different he looked as he made love to her than he normally did.
Make love. That's what he was doing. This wasn't just sex for him. This wasn't just a contractual obligation to finalize their marriage. He was expressing his feelings.
She closed her own eyes and felt his body melding with hers. She moved into his tentative rocking, wanting more, and he groaned as he took the hint. Slowly, and a bit awkwardly, they found a rhythm that suited them both.
She kept her eyes closed and forced her mind to let go of all thoughts and focus on him and her becoming one.
Suddenly, he stopped.
A little worried that something was wrong, but mostly angry that he had stopped at all, she looked up at him. He gazed down at her from above, and smirked.
"As much as I am enjoying this, I want to kiss you."
"Can't you do both?" she asked, wincing at how close she was to whinging.
"Yes, but in this position, if I kiss you continuously, I will end up with a neck cramp from hell, so may I suggest a new posture?" he said, still smirking.
She wasn't sure she liked his smirk from this angle. For a brief moment, she thought that maybe he did have manacles lining the wall and wanted to introduce her to the joys of sadomasochism. Her expression must have belied her thought, for he chuckled, got up, and sat back, leaning against the headboard.
Feeling the cold air hitting her moist flesh, she shivered and brought the blankets around her. She looked accusingly at him when he held out his hand, beckoning her to join him.
"Do you not feel the cold at all?"
He chuckled again. "Surprisingly, when I am with you, I do seem immune to the chill." She just scowled and burrowed deeper into the covers.
"Well, isn't it lucky that I have heat for you to steal," she snapped, muffled by the duvet.
"Come now, dear, is it fair for you to accuse me of theft when all I want is to give you blistering kisses and provide you with access to my heating rod?"
She snorted at the euphemism and peeked out at him. "Oh, is that you're calling your turgid member?" She heard him laugh, and suddenly the blanket was ripped off her as he stood towering over her huddled body. Before she knew it, he had grabbed her hands and sat back down, pulling her on top of him.
"Shall I cast a Warming Charm, or do you think I might be able to provide enough heat for your survival?" he asked. She sighed in answer.
"I have no doubts of my survival, Severus," she gasped. "It's more about com-comfort," she added.
"And is this comfortable enough?" he growled before clenching his teeth in concentration.
"Comfort isn't the word I'd use..." she gasped, then moaned, finding a particularly good angle. "What was the reason you pulled me out into the freezing air again?"
He looked at her through hooded eyes for a moment before her question sank in, then he pulled her forward to capture her lips.
It wasn't long before the cold air was refreshing, as they moved against each other with increasing fervor. Although she was enjoying Severus' kiss very much, she had to pull back for air, and as she did, she felt the most wonderful sensation.
Her world was coming to pieces, but it was sparkling with fierce beauty as she rode the pleasure. She was vaguely aware of Severus holding her hips. She was also vaguely aware of her voice floating through the chamber, mumbling words she didn't recognize or didn't want to. She also could hear Severus saying something, almost frantically. He kept repeating a meaningless phrase over and over, more breathlessly each time. Mostly, though, she was engulfed in her own universe of shattered light that was soon gone, leaving a blissful darkness for her to rest in.
She smiled as she opened her eyes, looking at her new husband. His head was resting against the headboard, and his eyes were closed. He looked as if he had just run a marathon; he was breathing hard and sweating profusely.
She leaned forward to lie against his chest, but he pushed her back with a weak shake of his head.
"Too hot," he said in explanation, then flopped his arms out to his sides, letting the cool air attack his moist skin.
She smirked slightly, but rolled off of him, surprised at her feeling of loss as he plopped out. After she had wrapped herself in the sheets, she looked over at Severus and found him watching her with glazed eyes and a small, happy smirk.
"I trust you enjoyed yourself?" he asked lazily, slurring the words slightly. She nodded contentedly.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." she rolled over onto her side and propped her head up with the pillow. "Did you?"
He laughed for a fourth time, although this time it wasn't a hearty sound. Eyes closing again, he responded, "Yes, my dear, I believe I enjoyed that immensely."
Coming down from her afterglow a little, Hermione noticed Severus was a little pale, or rather, he was paler than usual. His skin had a slightly waxy tone to it. He was also still breathing very hard.
"Severus, are you okay?" she asked, leaning over to touch his forehead. It was hot to the touch. "Good God, you're burning up!"
He scooted down the bed till his head was on the pillow. "Mm. I'll take that as a compliment."
She smacked him lightly. "Be serious. Are you all right?"
At that he opened his eyes and looked over at her. She noticed his gaze wasn't as steady as usual.
"You needn't be concerned."
"You are my husband. Do you really expect me to just roll over and go to sleep while you're suffering?"
He closed his eyes again and relaxed back into the pillow. "It's what I'd do." That earned him another smack, this time not as light.
"Have you taken the potion?" she asked, looking around for the small bottle.
"Yes, I took it in the split second between your orgasm and mine while you weren't looking," he said, a slight bite to his tone. "Of course not, you silly girl. I'm not a masochist."
"Could have fooled me," Hermione muttered under her breath as she looked him over. He looked very ill and getting worse by the minute. She reached over him, grabbed the potion off the nightstand, and carefully undid the cork. "Here," she said to him. "Open your mouth." He reluctantly did as ordered, and she tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth then pushed up his chin.
"I suppose that won't make you feel any better, but at least it will reduce the time spent suffering." He nodded, then grimaced and wriggled about in discomfort. She watched in utter fascination as red spots suddenly started sprouting all over his body. It was slightly unreal how fast the dots appeared and how many were showing. Before five minutes had passed, his abdomen looked as if a two-year-old had attacked him with his marking quill.
He moaned again, and she looked up at his face just in time to see him cover up a wince of pain. Before she could do or say anything, though, he shot her a look.
"This is not a show, Madam. I suggest you roll over and go to sleep."
She puffed up in indignation, but she quickly thought better of saying anything back. He was ill, and with a "mild" childhood disease, at that. She reasoned that he was probably mortified she was witnessing it. She nodded, kissed his forehead lightly, and snuggled under the blankets. It would have surprised her how quickly she was able to fall into sleep, had she been awake.