The pitiful meowing of a cat was the first thing Severus heard the next morning, an abominably early, five-thirty morning. He cringed against the sunlight in the room as Hermione opened the curtains. Curtains? was the first thing Severus thought that morning. His bedroom had never before had curtains since it had never before had a window. Damn woman, was the second thing that Severus thought that morning. The loud whirr of the can opener that he had never owned prior to their marriage told him that the cursed feline was getting fed. So, indubitably, Severus would find something partially digested on the rug in his study.
He turned onto his other side so that his back was to the overly cheerful yellow light and valiantly tried to go back to sleep. Alas, it was not meant to be. Hermione had returned to his bedroom and was now opening and loudly closing the drawers of his dresser, apparently searching for something. He reached behind him for her pillow and pushed it against her ear. The scent of that damned lilac perfume drifting from his pillow launched a full-out assault on his sinuses. Giving up on any hope of sleep, Severus crawled out of bed and blindly felt his way to the bathroom.
With his black, not so fluffy bathe robe draped over his body and his hair somewhat less oil, Severus Snape emerged from the bathroom. He sat himself down at the small table that was by the kitchenette that had not existed ten months ago. The sight before him redeemed both the previous night and today's morning. He admired the small white cup sitting on an equally white saucer. Inside the cup he was a tiger-flecked crema blanketing what he knew was a breve shot of espresso. He tossed down the liquid and winced as it burned its way down his throat.
The coffee was the only good thing about his year-long marriage to Hermione Granger. Damn was the thought that went through Severus's mind as he contemplated the wasted twelve months of his life. Today it would finally come to an end. A brief visit to a Ministry office, a lot of paper shuffling and a few feigned tears from his wife at their failure to produce offspring, and it would all be over. He would get his life back. The invasion would cease. There would be no marriage.
"Severus, could you help me with my books?" Hermione asked carrying flattened cardboard boxes to his study.
"It's called a wand, my soon to be ex-wife," he called across the room, sounding not unlike a petulant pre-schooler. "Which reminds me: I want that bloody window gone by the time you leave."
"It's called a wand, my soon to be dead husband," he heard her shout.
"No need to resort to childishness." Severus now had a pleased look on his face as he got up from the table.
She gave him a scathing look as she stalked into the kitchen and began rummaging through the drawers.
"Have you seen the Spellotape?" she queried kneeling to search through the bottom drawer.
"Top shelf, behind the boxes of pushpins."
"Thank-ow!"
He smiled as she touched the sore spot on her head.
"You arse!" the irate witch yelled. "You did that on purpose!"
"Yes, I purposely left the top drawer open so that you would hit your head against it." Ah, but revenge was sweet, even if unintended.
"I wouldn't put it past you, you…" she paused, considering an adequate insult.
"Idiot," he suggested moving towards her. "Boor," he said towering above her. "Slytherin?" he smirked, his hand dipping into the cabinet to retrieve the needed tape and handing it to her.
She swiped it from his outstretched hand, absolutely seething as she got to her feet, and swept out of the kitchen.
"Oh, darling," he called in as a melodic voice as he could muster. "Do remember our eleven o'clock at the Ministry."