Author's Note: My previous fanfic was on my old laptop, which has been acting like a pile of poo, hence many months of scrimping and saving for a new one. Microsoft sux0rs. I love my new Mac and I'm slowly getting back into the swing of writing. Unfortunately, I can't seem to get into the swing of having to re-write my previous story. So, I've decided, for now, to start a new one with Snape and Hermione. My new love. This story is an expansion of 'The Things He Does,' although it is not necessary to read it first.

So, enjoy!

Summary: Voldemort has gained power, Hermione's lost everything, and in the midst of all the chaos, Severus Snape has the one thing he always wanted; a woman to love and possess. SS/HG.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. But if I did, Severus and Hermione would have embarked on a passionate affair.

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o 0 o In the Garden of Eve o 0 o

By FicklePen.

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Chapter I:

Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses.

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Hermione ran her hands carefully through the rich and fertile soil, enjoying the gritty sensation of tiny dirt granules pushing their way beneath her fingernails. A soft, content sigh slipped passed her lips as she pulled her hands away, pausing to brush the moist pads of her fingers along the blossoming petals of baby's breath, bluebells and Siberian irises. Once again, she felt the wonder of magic at allowing her to grow these particular blossoms all in the same soil. The irises preferred a much more acidic soil to the baby's breath, and wild bluebells normally grew in woodland areas.

"Your garden is coming along rather nicely."

Her eyelids grew heavy at the sound of his cold, but mildly amused voice. The urge to harm him bodily returned with a vengeance, and she forced herself to tamp it down ruthlessly. All good things come... That particular mantra was the only saving grace in her current situation.

"It's not my garden," she returned flatly, her expression devoid of any emotion that could cause him an ounce of satisfaction.

A muscle at the corner of his mouth ticked nervously.

There was a pause — a rather strained pause — that caused her to shift restlessly on her knees.

He didn't seem to know how to reply. He never did.

Then again, he never seemed to know much of anything in the way of social skills, for all his purported intelligence. He was so awkward and gauche in her presence that it was almost painfully embarrassing. She believed she preferred it that way. It meant that he could continue on with his business, and that the sooner he was done, the sooner she was free to retire from his tedious company.

Hermione didn't expect that to happen today.

On days like today, he became maudlin to the point of being excruciatingly dull and tender towards her. It was exactly the kind of behaviour that made her want to vomit violently — on him. On his pristine, black robes that taunted her with ghostly memories... memories she had tried to put to rest, but couldn't quite seem to find the courage to bury completely.

Hermione jumped as his thumb gently caressed away the smudge of dirt across her right cheek. It took all her willpower not to bat his lingering hand away. He became more erratic and upset when she tried to resist him. He also had a tendency to spit when angered, which was quite revolting. She avoided that at all costs, lest she be drenched with his saliva of doom. She had to bite her lip to halt a hysterical laugh that threatened to burst forth as she lowered her eyes with forced bashfulness.

He drew himself together, becoming stiff and stern — utterly unyielding — as his nails bit into the supple skin of her unblemished cheek.

She winced.

"I know." He forced her to look at him, and her stomach churned at the iciness of his gaze.

"Know?" She tried her best to look confused, which was not that difficult as she had no idea what he was babbling about now.

His lips twisted into a thin, resigned smile. "You are punishing me," he made an awkward gesture, "for your... losses."

Hermione felt her fingers clench tightly into a small but deadly ball, ready to strike out.

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tbc.