Severus speared his sausages with angry jabs of his fork, keeping his eyes on his plate and trying not to notice his wife squirming in the seat beside him. He was disgusted with himself. As a man of such vigilance and self control, he could not deign to justify his behaviour this morning with the mere excuse of having been half asleep at the time. After all, he'd made an unspoken vow to himself not to sexualize the girl sitting next to him, and he'd broken that vow the first moment an opportunity presented itself!

Granger shifted in her chair again and though Severus kept his eyes trained on his plate, his peripheral insisted on noticing her and his mind's eye conjured an image of her thighs rubbing together beneath her skirt. His cock jumped at the thought and he glared down at his plate in accusation. Maybe if he'd at least been able to bring himself off, he wouldn't be so frustrated right now.

He speared another sausage, glaring out across the hall, searching for some distraction. She kept bumping his elbow, forcing her presence onto his consciousness, making it increasingly difficult not to wonder how such a slender girl could still be so full-figured. Fuck.

He was not looking forward to class with her today.

Hermione's face was hot with embarrassment. She could feel the eyes of the Hall constantly flitting to her. This was just the beginning. She knew how cruel the students of this school could be. She'd been at the receiving end of their gossip before. And it wouldn't last forever. Eventually, they would grow bored with their taunts and dismiss her again as nothing to write home about. But today was Wednesday, which meant double Potions with the Slytherins.

It was going to be bad.

"Professor," she murmured to her husband in as low a voice as she could.

"What?" he snapped, sounding even meaner than usual. And no wonder he was such a grouch, the way he woke up in the mornings.

"How should I address you? In class?" Her anxiety was really amping up and with it came all the questions she should have asked before now.

He stiffened. "Perhaps you should refrain from addressing me at all."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but… oh Merlin, we really should have talked about all this."

"Breathe, Granger. I'm sure even you can manage a single class period without feeling the need to flaunt…"

"I just want to be prepared. I should think you, of all people…"

"Careful, Granger. You may be my wife now, but I am still your Professor."

A nerve ticked in Hermione's cheek. "And I am still your student. The same student, I might add, that I have always been, and therefore…"

"There is a limit to my patience, Miss Granger, and you are about the cross it."

"I believe it's Mrs. Snape now, which is entirely the point."

At that, Snape's whole body snapped around to face Hermione and his narrowed eyes squinted down his overlong nose at her. "There is a war at hand, Miss Granger. I assure you, there are much graver matters to dwell on than the petty question of what name I should call you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in response and she glared back at her husband. "You think I'm petty?"

Snape jerked his chair back and swept to his feet in one smooth motion, slamming his fork onto the table with rather more force than was required. "I think the fact that you are so concerned with my opinion proves the point," he hissed. And then he turned on his heel and swept away before Hermione could respond.

Her cheeks burned crimson as she returned her attention to the crowd of students, many of whom were now whispering excitedly behind their hands. She ignored them, doing her best to focus on spearing the remaining sausages on her plate. One thing was for certain. The man had an alarming effect on her blood pressure.

…*~*J*~*...

Severus's first class was with Third year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Ah, the precious age of thirteen, when his students started learning all the dirty jokes and giggling at everything. They were the worst. Even though he put on his foulest expression and let them know early on that he had no patience to spare today, they continued to whisper and snicker behind his back. It nearly drove him mad.

Toward the end of the period, he caught a couple of Gryffindor girls passing notes and snatched it out of their hands. Among other humiliating observations, they had been expressing the opinion that he really ought to have been more cheerful now that he was getting shagged. He gave the two a withering stare he hoped would dry up any residual curiosity and sentenced them to a week of detention with Filch.

His second class was with Seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were so respectful and mature one might be inclined to think they had no opinions on the matter. But this only made Severus angry, wishing they'd do something, anything, to address the elephant in the room. He decided at last minute to assign an essay out of spite.

Hermione's first class was History of Magic, but though the content of the lecture was riveting, she could hardly keep her mind on the subject at hand. Lavender and Parvati were passing notes back and forth, giggling and snorting and glancing conspicuously in her direction. Hermione ignored it, pretending not to hear them at all. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction. But inside she was furiously itching to throw her textbook at their heads.

On top of that, Neville was acting weird. He'd avoided saying hello to her and moved from his usual seat beside her to one in the corner of the room. Every time she looked over at him, he glanced hurriedly away and fidgeted as his face went ghostly white. What on Earth?

Her second class was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. This was usually a good time to talk to her friends and relax a little while she worked in the dirt, but Harry and Ron were stony and silent and Neville, her usual partner, paired up with Seamus, instead. Hermione ended up working with Dean, who kept glancing at her when he thought she couldn't see, and acting like he wanted to ask her something. She didn't give him the chance.

By the time lunch rolled around, Hermione was stiff and exhausted, and she hadn't even dealt with the Slytherins, yet. She dragged herself to the Great Hall, barely said goodbye to her friends as she passed the Gryffindor table, and slumped down in her seat at the top of the Hall.

Professor Snape wasn't there yet, but she decided to tuck in without him. It was distinctly uncomfortable, sitting up there with all of her professors while they ignored her and a hall full of people watched. It only got more and more awkward as she waited for her tardy husband, until she realized he wasn't going to come. He'd abandoned her. He'd left her to face them on her own.

Hermione pulled out a book, attempting to hide behind it, as if she weren't being stood up by her husband on a stage in front of the entire school. What an arse! No matter how she tried to pretend it didn't matter, she only got angrier and angrier with him as the time went on. He probably thought he was clever, slinking back to his lair without her, leaving her conspicuously alone. He probably thought he had the upper hand. Did it make him feel powerful? Was this a punishment for something she'd done?

Oh, he would regret it. He would never do this to her again.

Severus did slink back to his lair for lunch. He needed a break from it all. This wouldn't be nearly as bad if he'd married Nymphadora. Oh, there would be jokes, but it wouldn't be such a juicy scandal. The little pests were tickled silly at the thought of his least favorite student (almost least favorite student) being subjected to… to… aarggh! it was unbearable!

Severus slammed the door between his lab and his bedroom and began to pace. Perhaps it could be annulled. He could find a replacement. Beg Nymphadora…

No. It wouldn't do to contemplate impossible solutions to his current predicament. The most he could do was find a way around his most pressing concern: Saturday. He couldn't bear to face the girl in such a vulnerable way; to undress in front of her, touch her, fuck her. He couldn't bear to look down into her open, honest face and see her horror as he subjected her body to his pleasure. There had to be a way out!

Heaving a sigh that came out more like a roar, Severus dropped into the chair beside one of his desks. He would spend every free minute he could between now and then studying the Law.

There had to be a loophole somewhere.

…*~*J*~*...

It was with heavy dread that Hermione followed Harry and Ron to the dungeons. The whole corridor was tense with anticipation. It simultaneously took forever and no time at all to reach the door to the Potions classroom. And the Slytherins were already there.

Malfoy wasted no time. "Granger!" he shouted in greeting. Then he planted on an exaggerated expression of shock. "Oh, wait, I suppose it's 'Snape' now, isn't it?"

In her peripheral, Ron scrunched up his face and balled up his fists. "Don't," she hissed. "Just ignore him."

Draco sauntered over to her with an arrogant smirk. "You know, Mrs. Snape," he said putting a hand on her shoulder, "your husband… has always been... like an uncle to me." He sent an obnoxious grin to the Slytherins snickering against the other wall. Hermione glared, folding her arms across her chest, meeting his eye when he turned back to her. "So I guess that makes you... my aunt."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry growled, holding a red-faced Ron back before he could do something stupid.

Hermione pushed Malfoy's hand off her shoulder, but said nothing. What could she say? The words wouldn't come. He hadn't said anything she could correct or refute.

Luckily, it was then that the students in the hallway began to shuffle to either side as a tall, dark, forbidding figure swept down the middle, his robes billowing out behind him. Hermione's heart leapt up into her throat as her husband stalked past her without so much as a glance her way. The bastard.

As they filed into the classroom, Hermione noticed Neville hanging back. She bit her tongue in frustration and took her usual seat, waiting to see who would be her partner for this class. It turned out to be Seamus, as Neville paired up with Dean this time. She was too angry to acknowledge either of them. What is going on?

Silence descended as the class slowly realized their professor was waiting for them to shut up. "I trust..." he began in that deep timbre that quietly demanded attention, "that you have all had ample time to complete your reading assignment... over the several weeks you had for holiday." He trailed off, glancing around the room as Gryffindors and Slytherins, alike, failed to meet his eyes. "In which case I am certain that each of you should be able to answer a few simple questions." He let the pronouncement settle over them as a sense of foreboding filled the room. "Who can tell me, when is the best time to pick moonseeds, and why?" He glanced around the room, daring anyone to answer.

Hermione watched desperately as no one raised their hand before hesitantly lifting her own into the air.

Naturally, he ignored it, his eyes passing straight over her to rest on poor Neville's ghostly white face. "Longbottom?"

Neville gave a little yelp and shook his head.

"You don't know?" He surveyed the room with one long glance, completely ignoring Hermione's hand. "No one?" he asked in that velvety voice. Some of the Slytherins snickered. Hermione shot a glare at them as she reluctantly lowered her hand. "And I suppose no one will be able to tell me the use of Octopus Powder?" Again, he glanced around the room. Hermione gritted her teeth, silently begging someone, anyone, else to answer. "No one?" he asked again. "In nearly four weeks of free time, not one of you found the time to prepare yourself for my class?"

Finally, Hermione raised her hand, looking reluctant and glaring at the snickering Slytherins on the other side of the room. And again, her husband's eyes swept past her as if she didn't even exist. "Potter," he barked, his voice malicious and triumphant all at once, "surely such a promising talent as yourself has not made the mistake of thinking you are too… important… for my assignments?"

Harry glared up at his professor, but said nothing.

"No?" said Snape, staring down at Harry with such superiority and malice. "Pity." He let his eyes linger, continuing to ignore Hermione's hand. Her eyes were narrowed, staring straight ahead, and she felt every snicker bouncing off of her, pushing her anger higher and higher in her throat. Finally, she let her hand drop to the tabletop again.

"Well, then, let's try one more. Surely some of you can tell me about the magical properties of knotgrass, as I believe you have had experience with it before."

Knotgrass. That wasn't even in the reading! Now he was just being unfair. Knotgrass was used in the making of the Polyjuice Potion, so of course she knew what it was. And he knew she knew. Bastard! He was definitely baiting her. Taunting her for the enjoyment of his Slytherins. What an arse! Angrily, Hermione raised her hand once more. She glared at her husband, daring him to meet her eyes as he swept the room with a knowing smirk, not even trying to hide his taunting now. The Slytherins were all in hysterics, sending her wicked grins and whispering to each other behind their hands. She ignored them, lifting her chin a little higher and waiting for her husband to ignore her once again.

Snape raised his eyebrows in mockery as his gaze landed on Ron. "Weasley?"

Ron glared up at him, his face red. He did not deign to shake his head. Snape smirked down at him. "How… surprising."

It was the last straw. Hermione's anger overtook her at last and her voice shook the scene with one biting word "Sir."

But Snape continued as if he hadn't heard. "Perhaps I should not have expected so much from my seventh year students…" he began in his most scathing tone, pacing back towards the other side of the room.

"But, Sir…" Hermione began again, her voice harsh with rage.

"After all," he kept on, his lips turning up at the corners as Malfoy and his gang hunched over in their seats, hands clapped to their mouths to hold back laughter, "you are only in your last year here, preparing yourselves to step out into the world…"

Hermione's anger spilled over. "Severus," she snapped over her professor's voice. He stopped in his tracks and spun around to her, eyes wide with shock. Even the Slytherins went quiet, their wide eyes trained on her in sadistic glee. Hermione quickly took advantage of the silent room. "Moonseeds must be harvested the morning after the full moon, as the light of the full moon strengthens their magical properties. Octopus Powder makes most potions stronger. And knotgrass is used in Polyjuice Potion as its magic ties two people together, but as that wasn't covered in the assigned reading, I'm not sure how you expected..."

"Detention, Mrs. Snape," Severus snarled in a bored tone, lifting an eyebrow. "Friday evening. Here in the dungeons," he told her, "it seems you have a lot to learn about… propriety."

…*~*J*~*...

Instead of going to dinner in the Great Hall, Hermione decided to stand her husband up as he'd done to her and headed back to their quarters. But he was already there, sitting at one of his desks, pouring over parchments, a fire crackling happily in the fireplace. When she saw him, she nearly turned right back around and left, but then her anger got the better of her and she glared at him, fuming.

"Detention?!" she snapped. "Are you kidding me!?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You should consider yourself fortunate I only gave you one night…"

"Didn't you even consider for one moment what sorts of jokes they'll be making about us now?"

Snape froze, his face paling slightly. If she hadn't been watching carefully, she might not have noticed at all. But clearly the man hadn't thought about that. "It is important that you remember that I am still your professor. I was compelled to answer your disrespect for my authority…"

"You were baiting me. Don't think I didn't know that."

"If you were aware, why did you choose to respond?"

"Because… because…" Hermione sputtered. "Oh! You are such an arse!"

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "Such language from an innocent, young Gryffindor."

Hermione scrunched up her nose, shaking her head at him in derision. "Oh bugger that."

"Perhaps you should spend some time alone," said Snape, smirking at her, "to get that temper under control. I have work to do." With that, he turned away from her, returning his attention to the parchment on his desk.

"Oh, no. I'm not finished speaking to you."

"Granger," Snape growled, not looking up, "you're trying my patience. I only have three more days to find a loophole in this godforsaken law so that I don't have to bed you."

Hermione froze, her mouth hanging open. It felt like a slap in the face. Was he so disgusted with her? And anyway, who used "bed" as a verb anymore? But then her face was flooding with heat, an unbidden vision of his lanky body stretched out on top of hers flashing across her mind. Weren't men supposed to be eager for an opportunity at sex? Weren't they supposed to want it even when their partner was not ideally matched? Was something so wrong with her to make him so desperate to escape it altogether?

Feeling her temper flaring to life inside her, Hermione balled up her fists to keep from shouting at him. "Fine," she snapped with as much restraint as she could. It was all she said before stalking from the room and slamming the door behind her.

Hermione stomped all the way to the Great Hall, deciding at the last second to sit down at the Gryffindor table if for no other reason than to spite her impossible husband. She was just in time to fill a plate before pudding was served. Between angry bites of broccoli quiche, she met eyes with Ginny Weasley. "Can we talk?" she asked her friend, on impulse.

Ginny lifted an eyebrow. "Anytime," she said with a definite smirk.

They finished their dinner in silence before leaving the hall together and heading to Gryffindor Tower. Only once they were enclosed in Ginny's four-poster bed, curtains drawn around them, did Ginny speak.

"What's going on 'Mione?" she asked.

"I'm just… upset."

"About what?"

"It's silly, really. I don't understand why I'm so angry about it."

"'Mione, you can tell me anything. You know that right?"

"I know. Ugh, this is going to sound so stupid, but… Snape is trying really hard to find a way around having sex with me."

Ginny lifted an eyebrow. "Is he really?"

"Yes."

"And that… bothers you?"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm. "Well it's just… really insulting, isn't it?"

Ginny shrugged. "I mean, if it gets you out of having to sleep with him…" she broke off, narrowing her eyes at the other girl. "I mean, you don't… want to… do you?"

Hermione chewed her lip. "I don't know."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "'Mione, Merlin's sake!"

"I know, I know. He's nearly twice my age and he's kind of an arse…"

"Kind of? 'Mione, he's the Greasy Git! Never thought you'd actually want to shag him!"

Hermione's face was hot with embarrassment. "It's not like that!"

"It's not?"

"I mean… well, maybe it is. I don't know! But the point is, he isn't interested in me. I mean, I know I'm not his first choice, but…"

"Ha! Bollocks! Snape couldn't pick up a woman half as attractive as you if he tried."

Hermione bit her lip. "Do you think? I was wondering... I mean… he can't really be as repulsed by me as he acts, can he?"

Ginny shook her head. "No way. It's probably just an act. Look at him! It's not like he's got options. He probably hasn't had sex in… like ever."

"I dunno."

"No, really. Think about it, 'Mione. He lives here at Hogwarts. He's really busy with this whole double agent business. Plus, his hygiene… I mean… come on."

"Right, so… why is it, then? Do you think it's because I'm so young?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, you are like half his age. With his job, he can't go around fancying teenage girls."

"True. And I wouldn't want him to, either. But do you think he could learn to be attracted to me?"

Ginny scoffed. "I think he already has. Didn't you see the way he looked at you in that wedding dress? I mean, granted, all the guys were looking at you in that. But no, Snape has eyes, doesn't he? He's definitely noticed that you're not a girl, anymore. If anything, I bet it makes him feel guilty."

"Oh." Hermione sat back against the pillows, pulling her knees up to her chest. "That would make sense," she said.

"Yeah, definitely. And now you're sleeping in his bed with him, sharing his bathroom… Plus, you're not the average 18 year old girl. I mean, for a guy like him, your intelligence has got to be a huge turn on."

"You think so?" Hermione chewed her lip.

"Definitely."

…*~*J*~*...

Hermione spent another hour or so with Ginny before returning to her new quarters in the dungeons. Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, massaging his temples. He said nothing as she came in.

Ignoring the stab of resentment that the infuriating man's refusal to acknowledge her existence caused, Hermione slipped into the bathroom to get ready for bed. She took a little extra time tonight and considered her reflection, wondering whether her husband would notice her shorts and how smooth her bare legs looked. The thought sent a shiver across her skin. Did she want Professor Snape to be attracted to her? The warm knot in her belly said yes.

When she stepped from the bathroom, Snape was leaning back in his chair, holding a parchment up close to his face. She bit her lip.

"Professor?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think I could use one of your desks for my homework?"

He hesitated, then sighed dramatically. "I suppose."

Hermione studied the various desks and their piles of parchments and books and ink and quills. Not one of them was clear enough for her to use. "Is there somewhere I could move your things?"

Snape smacked the parchment back down onto the desk and turned his neck until he was glaring over at her. She didn't miss the way his eyes darted down for a split second to her thin, white tee. He caught himself so fast she might not have noticed, if she hadn't specifically been wondering what his reaction would be. She chewed her lip, thoughts flying through her mind. Was it possible?

Professor Snape pushed his chair back with exaggerated impatience and stalked over to the farthest desk away from his own; the one closest to the bed. In one angry sweep of his arms, he shuffled all of his papers into one stack and carried them over to drop onto the third, unused desk. "There," he told her, his voice an angry grunt.

"Thank you," she replied. She didn't mean for her voice to come out so breathy and she nearly bit her tongue at the frail, feminine sound. If Snape noticed, he didn't let on. Ignoring her racing pulse, Hermione pulled out her textbook, dropping it down onto the desk.

It was then she realized there was no other chair. She chewed her lip. She certainly wasn't going to ask him for help. This was a problem she could solve on her own. There were stools in the lab, she remembered. She'd just bring one of those in here.

By the time Hermione had acquired a stool and shortened it to a more appropriate height, her pulse had gone back to normal and her nerves had relaxed. She perched atop its flat, wooden seat and got to work on the essay her husband had assigned.

Severus had reread the same page about fifteen times. Every time he reached the end, he realized that he hadn't paid any attention to the content he'd just read. How could he? Granger's mere presence was unnerving him. He was hyper-aware of her position in the room, the way she made herself at home. Of course he'd noticed the tiny shorts she'd worn. Too small! Especially for the time of year. True, the fire in the grate made the room warm enough, but they were still unseasonable clothes.

He was trying to read about contractual magic. It was actually a very interesting subject and something he'd never thought to study before. Under normal circumstances, he would be riveted upon his reading. But that was not the case. It was nearly impossible to focus on the words on the parchment before him when his mind's eye insisted on picturing Granger every time she rustled a page.

It had been a long day, and his mind began to fuzz over, conjuring images of Saturday night. What the hell was he going to do? Maybe they wouldn't have to undress all the way. What he needed to do was find out how the contractual bond worked so that he could only fulfill whatever was inescapable to avoid breaking the contract. There would undoubtedly be consequences if they did break the bond, and he didn't want to find out.

Severus shook his head, deciding that it was simply too late to concentrate. He'd had a long day with a rough start and he needed his sleep if he was to function tomorrow. Pushing away from his desk, he stood and cracked his aching joints, allowing only the most fleeting of glimpses toward the Granger girl. She looked so out of place in his dungeon bedroom, with her curly hair pulled up and her brightly colored shorts so invitingly soft. Oh Merlin. He should try not to think about that. And she was chewing the end of a Muggle pen she must have brought from home, a look of deep concentration on her face.

He was quiet and self-conscious as he opened his wardrobe and pulled out his newly designated sleep clothes.

"Professor?" The girl's voice startled him more than he cared to admit.

He turned to glare at her. "Yes?"

"It says here that Moonseeds are extremely poisonous, but… I thought most plants associated with the moon had healing properties."

"Is there a question there, Granger?"

The girl's eyes narrowed and her mouth became one, sardonic line. "Oh, excuse me. I thought the question was implied."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Well, if that was all, then…" he began, turning toward the bathroom.

"No, wait!" The girl sighed, rolling her eyes. "Alright then… so why is it these ones don't conform to the rule?"

Severus folded his arms, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door. "Well, there's nothing inherently beneficial about the moon. It is merely an incredible source of magical power. In fact, its light tends to increase the magical properties of many herbs, not simply the ones listed in your textbook. If you to study the potency of any plant as it changes over the course of a month, you would most often see a correlation between potency and the phases of the moon. It just happens that with some of these plants the effects are especially marked, and most of those fall into the category of 'healing herbs.' It's more a matter of coincidence than anything else."

"Interesting. So is it always best to pick herbs right after the full moon, then?"

"Not necessarily." Severus shifted his weight, considering the question. "Many herbs lose their potency the longer they are cut, so they must be used fresh. Some vary so little that it makes no difference. Others have traditionally been picked at specific times, for Merlin knows what original reason, and therefore most potions call for amounts dependent on the potency they have at that specific time of the month…" Severus broke off, realizing that he was rambling. That was a habit he had tried to break in his interactions with women. But then he saw that Granger was hooked on his every word, her eyes shining with curiosity. He wanted to kick himself. She was his student. Why on Earth was he worried about boring her?

"So, why do we never focus on harvesting herbs and other Potions ingredients in class?" she asked him.

Severus cleared his throat. "Well, you would in an apprenticeship."

The girl's eyes flitted to the ground and she chewed her lip. He knew what she was going say before she said it. She was so obvious, he didn't even need Legilimency to read her mind. "Speaking of that," she began, "I suppose I have to decide on an apprenticeship sometime soon."

This was beginning to feel uncomfortably like a personal conversation, now. Severus shifted his weight, glancing toward the bathroom door. "That would probably be wise," he said, then slipped into the bathroom before she had a chance to respond.

While her husband changed into his ridiculous sleep clothes, Hermione finally gave up on her homework and slipped into bed. He seemed to hesitate when he saw her there, but he covered it well, moving to join her in their bed with as little awkwardness as possible. With a swish of his wand, the lights went out, leaving only the faint glow of the embers in the fireplace.

Hermione turned onto her side, watching as her husband tipped a bottle down his throat. Dreamless Sleep? She continued to stare at his profile as he lied back down. "Goodnight," she told him, on impulse.

She watched his mouth open and close. "Goodnight, Granger," he finally growled, sounding annoyed. She smiled into the darkness. Living with him really wasn't so bad.

Long after her husband fell asleep, Hermione remained wide awake, watching his profile and his sleeping form gently rising and falling with his steady breath. It was so easy, in the dark, late at night, with her sleeping husband so close she almost shared his warmth, to imagine intimacy with him. She could almost picture him rolling over, right now, so that he was on top of her. The thought sent shivers down her spine. Ok, so it would be awkward. It would be nothing like the first vision she'd had of their first time together. But she wanted it, just the same. Awkwardness and all. She wanted his body against her own. She wanted him to look at her, to peel off her clothes. She wanted to look into his face and know that he wanted her back.

She wanted to know what he'd think if he knew she was thinking about that.

Groaning, uncomfortable, Hermione stretched out on her back, trying not to think about her husband and the night they had to come. For now, she just needed to sleep.