So, erm, this chapter fell out of my fingers when I should've been writing something else *shifty eyes*
And as Ginny would say, Hermione gets to taste the merchandise…
Severus tasted of chocolate and a hint of wine, his lips sure, his tongue teasing against hers. She shouldn't be kissing him. That thought turned over in her head, caught and twisted. Kissing was affection, but they would never have that. Yet, she couldn't deny something so…sensual.
His heat, the tormenting scent of him, strangely herbal mixed with sandalwood, and the silken brush of his hair against her cheek had her pulse in a riot.
A large hand spanned her waist and slipped beneath the band of her skirt to caress her lower back, easing her closer to the lean strength of his body. She went willingly, deepening their kiss. She groaned as she pressed against him, the box slipping from her fingers, forgotten. She clutched his robes and pulled herself up, desperate for more of him.
"What do you need, little girl?"
His breath burned over her moist lips. Molten words that fired desire low in her flesh. Her chest hurt as she found she couldn't breathe. She held his dark gaze. "You." It was almost strangled. "You, Severus."
He growled and she met his mouth, the kiss fierce, carnal. He'd have her there. Take her virginity on the floor before the fire and she didn't care. She wanted him over her, in her. Skin and hands and mouths—
"Severus?"
Hermione broke free of him buried her scalded face against his chest. Someone had seen them. And were scandalised by that tone of voice. She shrivelled at the thought. Yes, they were married, but still, he was the Headmaster and she a returning student. And if they'd arrived later, it could have been so much worse.
His fingers curled in her loosened hair and he held her close. "Gwendolyn." Severus voice was calm but cold. "You should wait to be invited into my private rooms."
"I brought the treatise I mentioned." Her voice was uncertain, but still Hermione couldn't look up. "Severus, is she…?"
There was something in the Head of Slytherin's voice. Something like…distaste. It put iron in Hermione's spine and she drew herself back from the protective shield of Severus' body. She fixed a smile on her face and found the tall professor frowning at her. Gwendolyn's gaze moved rapidly over her mussed uniform and Hermione lifted her chin, unrepentant. She'd brave anyone's displeasure before she gave up kissing her husband.
"Good evening, Professor." She nodded and her smile was sweetly sharp. "I'm Hermione Snape, the Headmaster's wife."
Gwendolyn blinked. Twice. "Wife?" She looked from Hermione to Severus. "Wife?" She frowned again. "The Marriage Law. It caught you, Severus?"
"As you see." His hand brushed Hermione's shoulder and the simple gesture of support warmed through her.
"But she's a student."
"Madam Snape is returning on an accelerated course to sit her NEWTS. At the start of the spring term, she will in fact be an apprentice."
"She's hardly anything like-"
"Gwendolyn." The sliver of ice cutting through her name sent a shiver through Hermione's blood. The Professor paled. "My marriage is not open to further debate or comment. Am I understood?"
The Head of Slytherin jerked a nod and her face settled into a more thoughtful mask. What had Gwendolyn read in his words that she couldn't see? Bloody Slytherins.
"Hermione." His voice turned her name to dark velvet. "I will collect you at eight-thirty. I wish to formally present you to the staff."
He took her hand, squeezing her fingers and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his obsidian gaze fixed on her. Hermione stopped breathing at the brief flicker of hunger heating his eyes. She was completely out of her depth with this man. Which wasn't her. She was quick, sharp. She pulled her brain out of its hormonal soup and gave him a secretive smile. "I'll be waiting, Severus."
His mouth ticked upwards and she resisted the urge to grin. He was a Slytherin, he liked word play. Though Gwendolyn Price seemed to have abandoned all of her Slytherin principles. Perhaps it was shock.
Hermione disappeared into her sitting room and closed the door behind her. She fell back against it and pressed her hand to her mouth to deny the bark of laughter that ached to escape. She'd kissed the Headmaster. Kissed him and had every plan to do that –and more- the first chance he gave her.
She frowned into the empty room. What had brought Gwendolyn to his rooms in the first place? A book was a flimsy excuse. Her stomach tightened as her mind galloped down unwanted paths. Had Severus been aware of her intentions? Had kissing her put paid to having to deal with unwanted interest?
Hermione pushed herself away from the door. Kissing her also helped with the overly keen Professor. Why have something only work one way for you? Anything less wouldn't be Slytherin. He had wanted to kiss her. She had to believe that.
She cast a tempus charm. It was just after seven. She would visit Harry and Ginny –she would be sure to knock and wait- for some Weasley gossip.
Crookshanks blinked at her from the centre of her wide, four-poster bed, his tail flicking. "Made yourself at home?" He closed his eyes again. "It would appear so."
In the light of the candles, the round room was warmed with taupes and golds. A leaded glass window looked out into the night, the spatter of rain the only sound in the dim quiet and she lit the fire to take away the autumn chill. Hermione found her trunk, spelling it back to its original size and tugged out muggle jeans and a thick sweater.
She stared at her collection of clothes. A bookworm's wardrobe, hard-wearing, plain and comfortable. She could transfigure something similar to the dress she'd created to meet the minister for the staff that night. Yet, she needed a set of clothes for Severus' despised functions. Professor McGonagall would no doubt advise her…but she'd run every item via Ginny.
Dressed, she headed for the door that would put her out into the married quarters. She stepped out into a long, darkened corridor, lit by torches. The door slid back into place and she found it guarded by a painting of an elderly knight, his face lined and browned by the sun, his beard grizzled.
"Madam Snape." His smooth voice belied his roughened face.
"Good evening…?"
"Sir Bedovan the Just."
Hermione smiled. "A pleasure." She stared at the long row of paintings lining the corridor. "Do you know which is the Potters' room?"
"Opposite, the silver dragon, though he spends most of his time trying to eat the cattle in the painting off to the left."
"Thank you."
The dragon eyed her, smoke curling from its sharp nostrils and without any further action, the portrait swung back. Hermione knocked on the plain wood door and waited. Harry and Ginny had obviously made the dragon aware of her.
Harry opened the door and gave her a belated smile. "Hermione! Ginny said you would be," he looked away from her and red burned his face, "be busy."
She laughed. "Not quite yet."
Harry bustled her into a small, cosy room. Ginny was curled on a deep couch set before the fireplace. "I thought you'd be busy."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "So Harry said."
She plopped down onto the thick cushions and explained to Ginny her need for more cultured clothes. Ginny grinned at her, the gleam in her eye something fearful and earning a groan from Harry. Murmuring that he'd lost his wife for the night, he sank into one of the other chairs with a book on Quidditch. And Hermione got a condensed lecture on wizarding fashions –complete with pictures from Witch Weekly- for the next hour.
She was happy to escape. Though Ginny wrung the promise from her that when she went shopping, she had to do with her. Hermione closed the door to her sitting room with a sigh of relief. She had half an hour to get ready, but at least her haranguing from Ginny meant she had more ways to transfigure her wardrobe.
Hermione stared into the long mirror, tilting her head. Her hair had been managed from its usual birds nest to something –well- tied back. A touch of mascara and lip gloss lifted her face. The clothes faired better. Deep blue and velvet, a fitted bodice with long sleeves and enough front to cover her scar, its skirt swung heavy just above her knees.
"Hermione…?" Severus knocked on her bedroom door, and without thought she invited him in. "You're ready-"
Before she could answer, even before she could begin to feel embarrassed about having in her bedroom, the fire flared and a letter shot from the chimney.
"Hermione Granger I am disgusted with you! How could you lead my Ron on in this fashion? And with—"
The Howler erupted into a shower of torn paper, and Severus flicked it back into the fireplace. The pieces quickly blackened and burned to ash.
Molly Weasley. Of course. Had she waited until they were in a bedroom together before the Howler found them? She gritted her teeth. The woman was a bloody harpy.
"Hermione." Severus smooth voice broke into her thoughts and she jerked her gaze to him. He murmured a spell and skin she didn't know was wet with tears, dried. "The post has been filtered to avoid this. Mrs Weasley obviously set this up deliberately. All correspondence from her will now be banned."
"Thank you." She ignored the pain in her chest. "I should've expected something. She's always preferred to believe that I'm close to a harlot. Yet she was fine to believe I was Ron's whore."
"Nothing could be further from the truth." His thumb brushed her cheek and she leant into his touch, the heat and promise of it. His hand dropped and he took a step back. "We are expected."
Had he forgotten who she was for a moment? The warmth of his palm still tingled against her skin and she held back a sigh. "Professor Price has gone on ahead?"
"Eventually." There was an undercurrent of anger in his voice.
"She seems a bit keen. Why did you hire her, Severus?" She stopped in the doorway between their sitting rooms and blood rushed to her face. Severus had hired her. During the summer, when he'd bedded almost anything with a pulse. He and Professor Price had… She closed her eyes, fighting to push down the sourness in her gut. She trusted him to remain faithful. Severus Snape –if he was anything- was a man of his word and loyal to a fault. But this…
"I employed wand oaths."
Hermione stared at his impassive face, trying to wrap her skittering thoughts around his words.
"I value my position here. I wasn't looking for scandal, so I had the agreement of a wand oath so that a witch could not talk about our…assignation with anyone."
She let out a slow sigh. Price couldn't corner her and go into detail about how she had…how she had fucked her husband. "Thank you." She gave him a short smile. "That was my fear."
"And you don't worry about me straying?"
"Of course not." She touched his cheek as he'd stroked hers. "You promised." Something moved through his gaze that looked like bewilderment, before his eyes were again emotionless and black. "I'm not being naïve, you know. You gave me your word. And if anyone's word is gold, Severus, it's yours."
"You're growing used to my name, Madam."
She smirked as she followed him to the door. "I hope I am."
He slid her a look that caught her breath and set her on fire before he opened the door to his office and ushered her out. Her thoughts whirled as she trotted down the steps. The summer witches might not be able to share his time with them, but she was certain they would push sly digs in other ways. The uncomfortable thought hit her that she'd have to ask him at every function who he'd slept with so that she could be on her guard.
She had to prepare. It was what she did. What she had always done. It was how she was alive after almost eight years of constant threat. Perhaps he could make a list. She winced. No. That was...distasteful. A little knot of fear and unease tightened in her gut. She was nothing like Professor Price. Had that what the woman had been going to say. She's hardly anything like...me. And all of his need would be focused on her now, all of it. She was a novice. Could she truly satisfy him?
She had to know more. Research. Not sex...but more about what he was, what he would need from her. "What do you know of the incarnation? How do I work with your magic?"
"So many questions," he murmured, escorting her out and down the stone steps to the corridor. "I am the Prince heir and, as such, have access to all of the family archives."
Good. It was a start. "Your ancestor." She let herself relax a little.
"Indeed." He offered her his arm and she slipped her fingers against his warm sleeve. She resisted the urge to press herself against him. Elegance, not teenage infatuation was needed. Well, as elegant as a bushy-haired bookworm on transfigured shoes could be.
They met no one in the dim corridors and staircases that led down to the ground floor. It was the first night back. A time to mix with friends and share summer stories. Though no doubt this summer's memories would be darker.
"Are you ready?"
Severus had stopped beside the two gargoyles who guarded the staffroom. They were thankfully silent. Though they were eyeing her strangely. Hermione lifted her chin. "Yes, but I'd recommend casting a strong shielding charm."
Severus snorted. "Oh, I'm sure."
The doors groaned open and Hermione's insides turned over. She'd known some of the teachers in the room for over seven years. They'd watched her grow up. As had her husband. That knowledge brought a blush to her cheeks as she entered the candlelit room. Professors lounged around on deeply cushioned chairs, more than one had a thick goblet or a crystal-cut glass filled with the amber and smoke of firewhiskey.
"Severus."
Professor McGonagall stood, her gaze moving to Hermione before she fixed on the Headmaster again. Her wand arm twitched and her features were pinched with the unease he'd mentioned.
Hermione's own feelings were confused. The Deputy Head had known about the Wizengamot's decision. That she was to be Severus' wife. She hadn't shared that knowledge, instead working to pick any wizard over him. She didn't know whether to be grateful or angry. But it wasn't the time. Severus had straightened beside her.
"If I could have a moment." Severus' smooth voice cut through the murmuring. "I wish to introduce you to my wife."
Professor Sprout dropped her glass, shattering it against the stone floor. Hagrid was on his feet, his mouth gaping. She caught other exclamations of shock as well as Professor Price's cool, hard stare. The one that surprised her was the new Muggle Studies teacher. He grinned, something quite salacious, and lifted his glass. Hermione frowned. Was that a wink?
But all thought of him vanished as they became caught in the sudden tight surge of anger.
"Is this going as well as you expected?" Hermione murmured as Pomona Sprout started to screech about impropriety and was held back by Professors Vector and Shaw.
Severus smirked at her, his eyes gleaming. The bastard was enjoying it. "More that I could ever have dreamed."
Over 11000 views! Wonder will I get to a 100 reviews with this one? *grin* Thanks to everyone who took the time. In my other writing life (which I should get back to tomorrow, bad me) I don't get this much feedback. So it's nice. *Huggles you all*
As ever, let me know what you think.
