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Words of Affirmation

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It was another full week before his wife turned normalcy on its head. Or, rather, it was another week before Severus noticed what she'd done. Really, it was Peeves who brought it to his–and the entire student body's–attention. Severus had been enjoying a nice steak and kidney pie for dinner, glaring at the rowdy Gryffindor table and ignoring Filius' attempts at conversation, when he'd felt someone, something, hovering right behind him. Before he could react, he was deafened by the high-pitched whine of none other than the Hogwarts poltergeist.

"The Grease is gone!" Peeves screamed. "The Grease is gone!"

"What the bloody hell are you on about you sad use of ectoplasm?" Severus sniped, spinning around in his chair to snarl at the non-ghost.

Peeves looked as frightened as a first year facing their first exam and Severus narrowed his eyes. Had the damnable being dusted himself with flour? He certainly looked paler than usual, an impossible feat for someone of his non-blooded status.

"The grease," Peeves gasped out, panting like some kind of victim in a muggle horror film. "It's… it's… gone!"

The poltergeist's words turned into a scream and he sped off across the Great Hall as though a pack of hellhounds were on his tail. Severus scowled darkly and returned to his meal. He'd half a mind to summon said hellhounds and really sic them on the irritating little–

"He's right, you know?" Albus said cheerily from his right elbow.

"Right about what?" Severus snapped.

Albus smiled at him, that gods-forsaken half-smile complete with twinkling blue eyes. It made Severus feel like he was being teased. He hated being teased.

"Spit it out, old man, before you choke on it," he drawled, stabbing a piece of flaky crust with his fork.

"Your hair, dear boy," Albus said simply.

"My hair?"

"Yes, your hair."

Was the old fool taking conversational lessons from Hermione? Severus abandoned his food and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What about my hair?"

Albus blinked at him. "It… Well, it looks quite healthy nowadays. Have you changed your shampoo?"

"Changed my–" Severus started, his voice rising with outrage. He paused, though, as his mind finally cognated exactly what Albus had said. "What do you mean, healthy?" he asked, lowering his voice and casting a warning glare at any student or teacher who dared listen in.

Plucking at the cuffs of his powder blue robe, Albus steadfastly avoided Severus' gaze. "Erm, it looks rather softer and shinier than usual. Less, erm, less greasy."

The Grease is gone! So that was what Peeves was bloody on about. Running a hand through his hair, Severus realized it even felt less… oily than usual. He sneered and pushed away from the table.

"I'm so glad you've nothing better to do than pay attention to my grooming habits, old man. Perhaps you and Peeves can find some other epithet for me, since apparently Greasy Git is no longer fitting."

Before Albus could stutter out empty placations, Severus stalked out of the Great Hall, robes billowing behind him. He headed straight for the dungeons at a clipping pace. He had a wife to find.

Slamming through the door to their quarters, Severus yelled for her. "Hermione!"

"Just a moment."

Her voice was distant and muffled and he stormed over to the door to his lab, yanking it open to come face to face–well, chest to face, she was rather shorter than he–with his wife. She was red-faced and huffing just a little, as though she'd run up the stairs when he called for her. Crossing his arms and towering over her, Severus curled his lip.

"What did you do to my shampoo?" he demanded.

"Our shampoo?" she parrotted.

He arched an eyebrow. She and Albus were definitely studying conversational techniques together. "No. My shampoo. The one I've used for twenty-three years. In the clear bottle on the second shelf in our bathroom."

She beamed at him and pushed him out of her way. Her hair was in a ponytail today, he noticed, the curls hitched high up on her head leaving the graceful slope of her neck bared to his glare. He followed her to the kitchen where she set about making a pot of tea.

Laying his hand over hers, he stopped her. "Quit stalling."

Hermione squared her shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "It was silly for us to have two shampoos. I dumped yours out and replaced it with mine."

"You dumped it out?"

Ignoring the danger in his tone, she nodded merrily and pulled her hand away from his, finishing the process of preparing tea as she spoke. "Of course. I tried it, but it left a lot of residue behind. Besides, I pay six galleons to have mine custom-made. You remember Lavender Brown?"

His eye was twitching. He could feel it going berserk as he stared down at the curls on top of his wife's head. "But it… it made my hair…."

He couldn't bring himself to say the words. Hermione turned, placing a hot cup of tea in his hands before picking her own up. Looking up at him through her long, dark lashes, she gave him that soft smile again. The one that made his insides twist and felt far too intimate for their relationship. Which was a marriage in name only.

"You have amazing hair, Severus," she said. Chancing his wrath, she reached out and brushed a lock of it behind his ear. Her hand lingered for several seconds. "I don't know why you hid it with bad shampoos for all these years."

She liked his hair? He blinked at her and tilted his head as if she were a particularly difficult arithmancy problem. Really, he thought, that's what she was. A problem he couldn't solve.

"I wasn't hiding it," he said finally.

Patting his hand before she pushed him back away from her–when had he pressed her against the counter?–Hermione agreed. "I know. You just didn't know there was such a thing as a good shampoo. Now you do."

He nodded, absentmindedly sipping the tea she'd pressed into his hands. It was exactly the way he liked it. Black with honey.

"I also bought you some new robes," she said.

Severus whirled around, shocked to find her right behind him. He tried to step back but found the counter pressed against his spine. Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip, staring up at him through those sinful lashes of hers as if deciding something. He was about to snap at her to get on with it, when she blushed–blushed!–and took a deep breath.

"You're a brilliant man, Severus. A genius with potions, an artist with spells. You keep hundreds of idiot children safe around fire and boiling mixtures and lethal ingredients and you impart at least a sliver of your knowledge to them without even trying. But you're also witty and sarcastic and lovely to talk to–" Hermione paused to breathe, to nibble that lovely pink lip of hers, and Severus sucked in his own breath, unaware he'd been starving for oxygen beneath her compliments. He'd been told he was brilliant before. But never in that voice. Never from someone who wasn't trying to get something out of him. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and she continued. "And you're handsome. In your own way. I just wanted everyone else to see it, too."

Before he could think of a coherent response, she was gone. Her and her compliments and her cute little cat mug full of the most delicious tea he'd ever tasted. He sipped at his own cup, swallowing tea alongside the lump that seemed lodged in his throat. Handsome? Did she really call him handsome? As that compliment settled over him like a warm blanket, Severus found his lips twitching. Maybe he didn't mind the new shampoo after all.

"Oh," Hermione peeked back into the kitchen. "I forgot to tell you?"

"Yes?" he asked, feeling like a giddy child being handed a present on Christmas morning. What else did she think about him?

She grinned. "Your Wolfsbane potion is bloody brilliant, too."

He grinned back, not even caring that his teeth were as ugly as ever or that his smile was crooked from disuse. When his wife was staring at him with pride and, dare he think it, adoration so blatantly apparent on her face, it was hard not to respond.

"Thank you," he drawled. His voice was husky again but he knew it wasn't cause for a pepper up potion. "Your Wolfsbane potion isn't half-bad, either."

Thank you for reading. Blessings.