The potions master's wife sat down on the old oak chest in her enormous closet and regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror. She had just risen from a bath moments ago; a black silk dressing gown cascaded over the dewy softness of her twenty-something curves, cinched at the waist, and pooled prettily around her feet. Dramatic, bell-shaped sleeves nearly skimmed the floor; diaphanous ebony lace began at her shoulders and finished just shy of the large diamond encircled with tiny emeralds that sparkled on the fourth finger of her left hand. Antique gold combs encrusted with garnets and citrine held her sumptuous chestnut curls in a loose up-do; a few unruly spirals escaped around her temples and at the nape of her neck. Obsidian cosmetics touched up her eyes, while deep vermillion colored her pretty lips, rendering the young woman absolutely, gorgeously, breathtakingly, simultaneously worthy of worship and fucking—which were her husband's exact and instantaneous thoughts as he came up behind her.
Her face lit from within as his dark eyes met her chocolate ones via the mirror.
"My love," he purred.
"I'm sorry, Severus. I know I'm taking a long time getting ready." She sounded wistful, and she broke his gaze, casting her eyes to her lap.
"Nonsense. There is no rush. Do you really think I am overly anxious to attend Christmas dinner at the Burrow? I merely came upstairs because I smelled roses."
Hermione glanced at the un-stoppered cut-glass bottle in her right hand. It contained an excellent rose-scented moisturizer that Severus made up for her himself. The scent was intoxicating—and arousing.
"Is something wrong, my dear?" Severus knelt behind her on the thick ivory carpet, tipping up her chin so she could meet his gaze in the mirror.
"No—well, yes—but no—oh, sod it. It's just that I don't feel like going tonight." She tried to look away, but he maintained his light grip.
"Hermione, talk to me." He let go of her chin and rested his hands on the oak chest, framing her hips. He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.
She sighed heavily and slumped over. At her change in body position, Severus rose and walked around the chest, dropping back down to his knees, in front of her this time. He took the bottle from her hand and tipped some of the lotion into his palm. "May I?"
She nodded, not looking at him.
With the other hand, he drew each of her legs one at a time through the part in the soft fabric of her dressing gown and placed her dainty feet on top of his hard thighs. He quietly rubbed his hands together and began to caress them, slowly and soothingly. Tears immediately pricked her eyes. His deep love for her was overwhelming, and his touch elicited a painful pleasure. She took a shuddering breath.
"I'm so sorry, Severus," she raised her head to look into his face, which was a mask of concern. That was bittersweet. It had taken him so long to stop pretending that nothing fazed him in front of her, and yet it pained her greatly to see him upset. He was so, so strong; he had endured so much and for so many years. It was past time for him to lay down his burdens; it was only fair that he should finally be allowed to express himself openly, especially in front of his wife. She hated to cause him more distress. She'd promised herself that she would be nothing but good for him the day she realized that she loved him; but the aftermath had been beyond difficult—she hadn't realized how much easier it had been to have her own emotions when she was an unmarried woman, and thus enjoyed the freedom of unchecked, unadulterated feelings. For most of his life, Severus's feelings had been of no concern to anyone. This knowledge caused her sorrow, particularly since she had been one of those who had not thought of him much beyond his cantankerous exterior. In the present, it was strange to remember that there had indeed been a time when she hadn't cared for him, loved him, shared a home with him, lay bare her body and soul to him. She didn't know in the beginning that discussing hopes and desires and disappointments and pain with a husband would sometimes mean that she would have to curtail her own emotional expressions for his sake. No one had mentioned that at her wedding or even before. No one told had Hermione how to be married, and she had found that books about the subject didn't quite do the trick, other than to state that communication was important (Well, duh, she had thought); no one had written any books about how to be married to a half-blood former Death-Eater turned secret hero with daddy issues and a murdered first love.
No, their engagement had been just about the excitement of the planning, the event itself, the toasts and singing, the "happily ever after." (Of course, since she was a child, she had heard the terrible jokes boys and men often told about wives and women; of course she had heard women—some of whom were the very same women who had been excited about their own weddings, who had gushed over the announcement of hers—complain about their husbands severely lacking in one area or another, in tones that had made her uncomfortable. Her parents had been (and still were) happy, but Hermione understood now that over the years, they had hidden much from her too. It was all so confusing, and Hermione felt like it was October in her first year at Hogwarts again—she knew where her dormitory was, when meals were served, in which sections of the library she was allowed—but getting along with others (especially others who weren't unfamiliar with being magical!) still eluded her, and this had caused her loneliness and depression).
And now, despite it being Christmas, a night traditionally imbued with hope, promise, love, and magic—Hermione felt anxious, unsettled, and despondent—she shouldn't feel this way. We are in love. Love should be enough. A tear welled over and traced a path down her cheek.
Severus's long fingers moved up to soothe her ankles. He squeezed them gently, the strength in his hands at once comforting and secure. "Tell me, Hermione," he said quietly. "Just tell me all about it, whatever it is. I've got you."