I've added a little each day...then splurged this morning. I really should've been writing something else...*shifty eyes*
Hermione pressed her lips together, looked away from Severus to the tea tray and set about fixing a cup for herself and him. Her nerves pricked. He'd agreed to marriage —and that was a heavy relief in her chest— but that was only the first hurdle. There were so many more.
"A soul bond." She sat back, sinking into the soft comfort of the couch and watched him over the rim of her cup. "I think…that would be the best way to make absolutely sure Septimus will be safe in our world."
Hermione made herself take a sip of her milky tea and smiled as Severus pushed a tuft of downy black hair from his son's forehead. Her other-self had worked equally hard magic on his mind and heart as she had on hers. But the incentive was there. She needed for her son to live.
"I agree," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble.
Septimus' little fingers stretched and flexed under the thrum of his father's voice. Had the other Severus ever held his son? Watched his Hermione's belly swell with his child? Had he even known he existed? Hermione held back a sigh. There were so many gaps and questions that could never be answered.
Severus stroked his thumb over tiny knuckles. "And we should not hide the truth of who he is. He is our son. But he was theirs first."
Hermione's throat tightened at the thought of what that witch and wizard had lost. What her other-self had lost. What she'd given up… Quickly, she sipped at her tea, before tears broke from her. Her hormones would be…all over the place, what with the spell making her able to feed their child. That had to account for her sudden ache, but compassion was there too.
No, they would give Septimus the best life to honour her sacrifice.
She nodded. "When should we…?"
Severus looked up at her, his dark eyes sure and determined. "Today. Kingsley owes me a favour. I will bring him here, dragging him wrapped in a sheet if necessary, to perform the ceremony." He looked back to the baby. "I want no risk to him."
"No…"
His gaze was now fixed on her left hand as it wrapped around the china cup. "Though I would feel less…concerned if you would remove Mr Weasley's ring." His lips pursed. "There is magic in a betrothal…Hermione."
She blinked at the use of her name, the strangeness of it in his rich voice, her cup frozen at her lips. "Oh. Oh, yes." The cup clattered into the saucer and she was tugging at Ron's ring.
Had the metal always been this tight? Pain seared her skin, biting down to the bone. Severus had said there was magic in a betrothal, but this?
Maybe…maybe she should just keep the ring? Ron wasn't really all that bad—
Her gaze fell on Septimus in his father's arms…
What was she thinking? How could she even contemplate staying with Ron when she had to marry Severus? What…?
A spark of guilt rioted through her as she scraped the ring free of her finger. They'd made an agreement… No. No. She pushed out a hot, relieved breath, her mind clearing. She knew —she had always known— that it would not be a happy marriage. A marriage of equals. But…would she have that now, with this wizard?
A sour twist of magic broke a hiss from her and she dropped the suddenly hot metal onto the tea tray.
Severus was frowning at her. "There was a bind on you?"
"A bind?" She looked to the ring sitting on the tray and resisted the urge to poke the thing. It appeared innocent enough, but something itched about it, something she'd never noticed before. And her thoughts… She'd considered staying with Ron.
Fuck, had Ron given her a cursed ring?
"Ron said it was a Weasley heirloom."
"Ah, a pureblood bond ring." His dark eyes fixed on her. "For…reluctant brides."
He resettled Septimus against the crook of his left arm and pressed an absent kiss to the baby's forehead. He seemed totally unaware of the action and it warmed Hermione, chasing through the bitterness surging against her very-much-former fiancé.
"Your other-self did you a great favour. Those things are often hellish to break."
Had Ron known? No, he hadn't, he seemed as clueless about magical culture —unless it involved food or quidditch— as he was about muggle culture. Had Molly suggested it? Or had he simply swiped it, and Molly had been reluctant to point out what the ring actually did…?
"It influenced me."
"To a degree." Severus waved his hand and the ring spun into the air, his gaze narrowing on it. "It is very old. Weakened. Perhaps no one in the family felt its magic as its attuned to their combined bloods." It slipped back to the tray with a soft, deceiving tink. "Still, it should be handed to the Aurors. Binding rings were made illegal in the middle of the eighteenth century."
So a cursed, illegal betrothal ring. Oh, Ron.
"And how do we do this?" Hermione unpressed her lips and willed herself to say his name. "Severus." She picked up her cup again, bolstered by having something to do rather than knot her fingers. "I mean… Our marriage. We're strangers, practically speaking…and we're being thrown together, with a newborn. An instant family—"
"Hermione…"
His voice was smooth and sure and quiet and broke her rambling. She twitched a nervous smile.
"I had every intention of sponsoring this little Snape before I knew who he was." He looked to Septimus and a smile tugged at his mouth as the baby's long lashes flickered and shining black-irised eyes stared up at him. "You're with us again, I see, Master Snape."
Septimus yawned and stretched, but remained secure in Severus' arms and his eyelids grew heavy again.
"Or not," Hermione murmured and was surprised to share a smile with Severus. They had their son in common, but they couldn't —and shouldn't— have that as the foundation of their marriage.
A marriage of equals.
How could she equal him? He was older, more experienced, a well-renowned Master of Potions and practioner of the Dark Arts. Headmaster. Now a famous and respected wizard. She held back a sigh. She would have to start with what she was.
"I'm a Charms Apprentice with the Ministry. Just entering my second year. I…" She pursed her lips. "I don't know how I can continue with having to care and feed Septimus."
Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Filius has had a constant gripe that you chose that path. There have been many grumblings over many meals."
Hermione blinked. "I never approached him because," she winced, "I have no wish to teach."
"That can be…worked around. Miss Lovegood has joined us as a Charms Apprentice. She will aid Filius in the classroom."
Luna. Teaching. Though Hermione supposed it would be hard for anything to break her unflappable calm. And she wouldn't have Harry and Draco in her classes…
"I would not deny you your career, Hermione." Severus smirked down at his son. "We can work a schedule for you around this one's stomach." He looked up and his dark eyes were sober. He drew in a long breath. "I would prefer that we remain…exclusive to one another. As much to build a life together —as you say, we are strangers— as to avoid yet more scandal."
"Ron…" Hermione winced. "Ron and I were together more from it being expected than any true…" She'd been about to say desire, but quailed before the word. Yes, that would have to be addressed too, wouldn't it? Shit. "I…we, we never… I have never." She huffed an embarrassed laugh and nodded to Septimus. "He would be something of a miracle."
And hurried on at Severus' slow blink. "I hope that I'm not ruining anything for you."
He gave a slow shake of his head. "Nothing…serious."
Nothing serious. Severus Snape had a nothing serious. The questions itched at Hermione. Who was she? And no that wasn't a hint of hurt jealousy pricking under her skin. She had been fully engaged to another wizard. She had no right to be—
"It has always been something…casual."
Maybe that was it? Hermione couldn't be casual about something as intimate as sex. Her self-protecting walls were too high. And, if she was brutally honest, no one had ever really…aroused her.
Ron certainly hadn't.
"You are aware that a soul bond requires immediate consummation?"
Yes. Yes, she was aware of that, at the back of her mind, and now it was at the front, wasn't it? The very front.
Severus Snape as her first, her only lover. There was a power to him, a darkness that maybe, maybe she could admit—now—that had always intrigued her. He wasn't handsome, but then she was hardly pretty. His magnetism was undeniable…and coupled with his deft hands and…and –her belly did a strange little flip— his voice…
Her face grew hot and she nodded, her words dried. Oh yes, she knew about immediate comsummation, all right.
"I…" His voice was unbearably soft and there was something under it. "I…will not hurt you, Hermione."
Pain. It was pain. Oh, he thought— "No, I know that. I know that absolutely. It's me. It's all me. I…" She looked to her feet, her grip on her cup so tight her knuckles strained. The swirl of magic stirred, wisps of it slipping through her hair. "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."
"Yes, you've always sought my regard, haven't you Hermione?"
Her head snapped up, her heart a sudden drum. There'd been an undercurrent to his smooth words, murmured in that voice, something –Merlin save her—something deliciously hot.
"Come here."
And Hermione was tottering to her feet as if drawn up on strings. Her cup clattered to the tray again. She crossed the short distance between the couches and stood before him, nervous, uncertain, and with entire pack of pixies rioting in her stomach.
Severus took her left hand and drew his warm, callused thumb over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. A light touch. Gentle. But intimate, so intimate that it drew a soft gasp from her and a shockingly quick warmth in her flesh. As if he had always…
Magic curled around her ring finger and a thin band of electrum —she could feel the unity of silver and gold— and a shining disc of green jade appeared.
"An heirloom." There was a gleam of humour in the endless dark of his eyes. "My great grandmother left it to me. There is no other magic than is natural to the stone and combined metals. A ring to draw balance and peace to you."
"To us both."
Hermione grabbed everything that was Gryffindor about herself and wrapped it around her will. She pressed her left hand to his jaw, the smooth warmth of his skin a surprise and delight, before she dipped her mouth to his.
Severus met her unsure kiss with a smoothness, an ease that jumped her pulse. A tease of firm lips, the hint of inner heat, the taste of mint and something darkly sweet… Him? Was that his taste?
His soft groan surprised her and parted her lips…and his tongue swept a slow and delicious line across her bottom lip, a flicker to the top and then—
She was kissing him. Her fingers in the inky silk of his hair, the ache deep in her belly to press herself against him, find skin and heat and more. This was right. So incredibly, so gorgeously right…
"Hermione."
Severus drew back, his hair mussed by her grasping fingers, his pale cheeks delightfully pinked. His lips plumped.
And an embarrassed heat smacked into her. She'd happily snogged him…as he held their son. "Oh Merlin!" She dropped to a crouch, her hand on their baby's narrow chest. It rose and fell under her light touch. Thankfully, he hadn't stirred. "I never thought…"
"The poor boy is scarred for life."
Hermione's gaze snapped up, her heart in her throat, before she saw the wicked shine of amusement in his eyes. Her mouth pressed together. "Not funny."
"But…as you see, I am not disappointed."
The sweet taste of him still tingled on her lips. She gave him a twitch of a smile. "No, not at all."
His shoulders lifted, straighened. "And now I must go and drag Kingsley from his bed."
"It's almost lunch..."
"He and Miss Lovegood prefer to lie in on a Sunday."
"Luna?" It was a high-pitched squeal audible only to crups and she slapped her hand to her mouth, looking guiltily to Septimus. He was obviously not a crup and happily slept on.
"The favour I am owed, I believe. I introduced them." Severus smirked, and Hermione was finding that devilishly wicked look more and more to her liking. "Now, if you will take our very well-behaved son, and I will be back shortly."
With minimal fuss, Septimus was deposited in her care and she was sitting in the place Severus had occupied. He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead and with a dark look that caught her breath, eased a light kiss across her parted lips.
A moment later, the floo flared green and Severus Snape swept from the room.
Hermione stared down at the blissfully sleeping baby in her arms. Her fingertips pressed to her lips, the tingle there, a soft —and delicious—burn. And…it felt like a memory, as if he'd kissed her before. That he knew her mouth, knew exactly how…
Hermione sucked in a quick breath and pressed her lips together. Her pulse was still a riot and she was certain her cheeks were quite, quite pink. "Your father really can kiss, Septimus." A soft laugh from her. "But you never want to know what your parents get up to…"
And that thought —that scary and rather hot thought— chased yet more heat into her face.
Damn.
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