A/N: This chapter is much longer than the others, but I'm sure you won't complain. Sorry for the delay, but the last few weeks have been busy. I've nearly survived my first semester of grad school - only a few more papers to finish up this week. Once I get those sent off, I'll be working on Bound and Rumored.

Thank you so much for reading and leaving reviews! I love hearing your opinions! Now, onto Hermione's plans...

"Desires dictate our priorities, priorities shape our choices, and choices determine our actions." – Dallin H. Oaks

- Chapter 14 -

At hearing his tone of voice, the witch narrowed her eyes in concern and stepped away from him. "You're upset with me? If it's the money, you needn't be concerned. I should have enough saved to support myself until I get another –"

"It's not the money, Hermione," he sighed, rubbing his face. "You could never work another day in your life, and we would be more than fine."

"Then what is it?" she queried.

Severus shook his head. "You should not have done that. You didn't need to do that."

"Why?" she frowned, stepping around the edge of her desk. "Are you saying that, had our positions been reversed, you would have legally divorced me to keep your job?"

Taking his refusal to respond as a confirmation of her theory, she crossed her arms. "So then you're the only one who can sacrifice what he wants for the one he loves?"

The wizard sighed and turned to face her. "Hermione, I said that I didn't care whether you bear my name or not as long as –"

"But I do," she interrupted, pointing at her own chest. "I care! I've recently come to the realization that I happen to like being your wife, and I don't want to give that up just because someone else says I should."

"I had every intention of marrying you again," he argued, folding his arms to his chest. "I could have done things as they should have been done – properly courting you, getting down on one knee with an actual engagement ring, and whatever else you wanted."

Hermione shook her head as she grabbed the back of her chair. "But I don't need any of that. It isn't like the last three years are going to magically disappear just because we signed a piece of paper, so it isn't like we're actually starting over. We've already wasted so much time, Severus. I don't want to waste any more. I don't want to do proper. I just want to be with you."

"But I do not want you to give up your other desires when it could be avoided."

The woman let out a sorrowful laugh and gestured about her office. "This isn't exactly what I wanted out of life. I wanted to help people, to right the wrongs… and to make the world a better place. I didn't want to have to play politics all the time… to sacrifice my personal life or opinions just to align myself with the party platform."

Snape took in a deep breath and adopted a concerned expression as he stepped around her desk. "They were willing to overlook our marriage, you realize. You could have stayed."

"Willing to overlook our marriage," she repeated with a pointed stare, "like it's some sort of deformity or misbehavior. And what stories would they have asked me to tell about our marriage just to negate any perceived support of the Act? That we've secretly been involved for years and merely used the Act to bring it out in the open? That I was enamored by my professor, or that you lusted after a student? Or maybe a torrid affair behind the front lines of the War? Or perhaps a slow development, trading soul-bearing letters back and forth while I was away at University until we finally realized we couldn't bear to be apart?

"You know they would, Severus. They'd glorify the shite out of it – twist it into something it's not – just because the truth might paint the Act in a favorable light. I don't want that, and neither do you."

Frowning slightly, he moved beside her and tilted his head. "The werewolf legislation will never pass without you."

"I know," she nodded, rubbing her forehead.

"You're abandoning an entire population of people," he clarified, "just to keep our relationship from being turned into some ridiculous romance novel?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not abandoning them. I'm simply delaying them a bit. They've waited this long – they'll withstand another year or two."

The man narrowed his eyes in mild censure. "Hermione, you just resigned. That isn't temporary. You didn't just go on holiday."

"Well, it's a bit like an extended holiday, really," she murmured. When she noticed him raise an eyebrow, she smiled and ducked her head. "There's sort of an unofficial rule in politics – it was one of the first things Cuthbert Mockridge told me when I interned with him. When someone resigns before the angry horde demands their head on a platter, people tend to remember them positively even if they have royally cocked something up in the past, and should that someone decide to return to the political realm, they generally re-enter at a much more prominent stage."

Realizing that his mouth was awkwardly hanging open, Snape swallowed uncertainly and leaned against the side of the chair. "This was your plan all along?"

"Well, not all along," she shrugged, blushing. "It started developing in my head while I was sitting at your desk this morning. So as I told you earlier, I haven't really done anything foolishly Gryffindor."

He shook his head as he considered her scheme and then rubbed his temples. "Is this even necessary? He just bloody offered you the position of Department Head – there aren't many higher levels than that. Not to mention, this doesn't address your objection to their interference in your personal life."

"Not completely, no," the witch sighed. She glanced out the charmed window for a moment before facing him again. "The way I see it, though, is that I've now made my objections known to the public, and whenever they are desperate enough to ask me back, they will know to bring those assurances to the table – in writing – before they start. I've drawn a line in the sand, and they know that I will not compromise on that subject. It will also aid in showing that any promotion will be attained because I have something valuable to offer, and not because I towed the party line or grabbed onto somebody's coattails as they moved past me."

Severus folded his arms and held his chin pensively. "I wasn't aware that resignation letters were made public, or that any of the Private Proceedings legislation had been overturned yet."

"No, they haven't," she smirked, shifting her weight. "And as a general rule, they're not made public… but on the off-chance that somebody may have leaked something…"

His dark eyes immediately snapped to hers and tracked her movements as she leaned around him and picked up her messenger bag from the floor. After digging through it for several seconds, she finally managed to extract a large envelope. When she held it out to him, he accepted it but eyed her curiously.

"I was going to give this to you tonight," she explained quietly, "but we're discussing it now. It's a mock-up of this month's Unveiled."

"That Skeeter bint's gossip rag?" he asked with a pained expression on his face.

"Besides the Quibbler, she was the only one who printed any opposition to the Act."

He snarled slightly and rolled his eyes. "Merely because the Ministry denied her access even though she married that miserable old sod from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

"True," she acknowledged, "but the Daily Prophet prints only what the Ministry approves, and the Quibbler isn't as well-read as Unveiled due to… well, obvious reasons."

"Must be the Nargles," he sneered.

A brief smile flitted across her lips before she cleared her throat. "Besides, I think motherhood's calmed her somewhat."

"Ugliest child I've ever seen," he growled, slipping the periodical out from the envelope. "Merlin preserve us when the blood-sucking spawn of Rita Skeeter-Leach arrives at our doorstep."

Hermione gave a small grin at his grumbling beneath his breath. "Nothing is official yet, just so you're aware. This is the only copy containing the drafted article, and I have made it quite clear that it will only go to print if you agree to it. If you do, I'll owl it back to her before she publishes this week. If not, I'll destroy it and it will never again see the light of day."

"And you expect that treacherous tart to abide by that?" he sneered as his eyes raked over the cover and were immediately drawn to an old photograph of Hermione ducking past reporters in the Ministry lobby and disappearing through one of the many Floos. His mouth turned down in a grimace as he read the caption floating beneath it.

Ms. Ambitious Calls It Quits: No Love Lost For New Regime

Sources from within the Ministry claim the heroine provocateur resigns in response to marriage hypocrisy!

See page 3 for the unauthorized excerpts they won't want you to see!

"I do actually," she replied, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages. "Let's just say we've come to an understanding of sorts. I know a certain something about her that she doesn't want anyone else to know, and she is eager to hit the Ministry and the Prophet any way she can."

The man gave an intelligible grunt, and a strange quiet descended upon the room as he began to read. While watching his face for any telltale signs of emotion, the witch crossed her arms against her chest and chewed on her lip. After what seemed like the better part of a half hour, but in reality was only the matter of a few minutes, he snapped the magazine shut, returned it to its envelope, and then tucked it into his robes.

As he stared strangely out the window, she rocked nervously on her feet. "What are you thinking?"

He sighed lightly. "I'm merely coming to terms with the fact that I've married a politician."

Hermione snorted softly and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Severus. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have known you'd hate it."

"On the contrary," he responded, slipping an arm about her waist. "I find it to be severely less aneurysm-inducing than her usual pieces."

"Really?" she asked, looking up at him. "I helped write it."

He raised an eyebrow as he peered down at her. "Is that so? And were you the one who described yourself as an over-bearing zealot?"

The woman laughed and shook her head. "She added that little bit after I kept watching over her shoulder as she wrote. So do we print it or not?"

"You honestly expect to leak your own resignation letter and not draw suspicion?"

She shrugged lightly and smiled. "Private Proceedings law or not, this place leaks like a sieve. Skeeter has a number of sources in the Archives Department, so it's not a stretch to assume that one of them has access to the Personnel Archives. My leak will simply blend in with the rest of them."

"Well, it should help put to rest some of those ridiculous questions," Severus sighed after a moment. "And I'm certain it will spark a demand for you to either confirm or deny the claim."

She nodded slowly and placed her palm against his chest. "I don't have any qualms about letting everyone know that I'm yours."

"Nor do I," he replied. "I will owl it to her myself on two conditions."

"Oh?" Hermione tilted her head in question.

He held up his pointer finger. "Firstly, I demand a complimentary, autographed copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore –"

"Whatever for?"

"To be put on display in my office," he smirked impishly. "I think it may prove a worthwhile conversation piece."

His wife closed her eyes and snickered briefly as she pictured the expression on Dumbledore's portrait-face that would result from having to stare at his own critical biography every day. "Alright, I think that would be manageable. Your second demand?"

A wicked gleam appeared in his eye as he spoke quietly into her ear. "I request that my scheming… manipulative… over-bearing… zealot of a wife be present, naked, and willing in my bed every night for the rest of the week."

As a shiver ran through her body, she slid her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and stared directly into his eyes. "Make it a fortnight, and we have a deal."

"Done," he whispered, pressing her body against the edge of her desk. "Remind me to thank whoever taught you how to negotiate."

Hermione giggled as he placed both hands on the desk and leaned into her. As his lips hungrily descended upon hers, she sighed and raised one knee, resting it against his upper thigh. Opening her mouth to allow him better access, she crossed her arms behind his neck and pulled herself even closer to his body.

"Hey, boss?" A voice interrupted hesitantly as the door was slowly opened. "I don't mean to pry, but – Oh, Merlin's balls! I'm sorry!"

As Severus lifted his head to glare at the slender blonde woman who was desperately trying to close the door and disappear, Hermione tipped her head back and cleared her throat. "Marie, is there something you need?"

"Erm, nope," the younger witch mumbled, purposely staring at the floor. "No, it can definitely wait."

"Just hold on," the brunette instructed, tapping her husband on the shoulder and then straightening her skirt as he stepped away from her. Smoothing her hands over her hair, she took in a deep breath and addressed her former employee, who was blushing furiously. "What is it?"

Marie hesitantly glanced out of the corner of her eye before turning to face them. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…disturb anything, but well, we've all been trying to figure out what's going on – with the Minister and Blowhard storming in here like their pants were on fire – and the rest of the chicken-shits elected that I come ask you. You haven't gotten the sack, have you?"

With a small smile, the Gryffindor shook her head. "I haven't been sacked."

"Oh, good –"

"I've resigned."

"Fuck." The blonde frowned and rubbed the back of her neck. "Did they ask you to resign, or did you resign on your own?"

"On my own," Hermione replied.

"Okay, now have you actually resigned, or have you just resigned?"

At Snape's disbelieving snort, his wife grinned. "I'm counting on you to keep the place together in the meantime."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Marie sighed, sagging against the door. "You had me worried, boss."

"Preposterous," the wizard muttered, dropping into the desk chair. "Is that all, Miss Zeller? I apologize if that title no longer applies to you, but I have not exactly kept up with the onslaught of surname changes."

The blonde smiled and shook her head slightly. "No worries, sir. I've recently reclaimed the title – Mrs. Dawlish never suited me. The in-laws agreed, but at least Julian and I are still friends."

He arched one eyebrow and rested his forearms on the arms of the chair. "You married Julian Dawlish? And actually managed consummation?"

"Severus!" Hermione warned, glaring over her shoulder.

"It's alright, boss," Marie chuckled with a blush. "Merlin, I never expected to discuss this with my Headmaster, but yes… we… managed. It was a challenge, but still accomplished. How did you know he's –"

"A wand-fondler?" he supplied.

"Severus!" his wife hissed, grabbing hold a book and swatting him on the arm with it.

The wizard shrugged off the blow with an amused expression on his face and cocked his head. "One does not tend to forget having his arse animatedly appraised by any student, let alone one of the same gender."

"Oh, gods," Marie groaned, covering her face. "He had such a thing for you, too."

"What?" Hermione whispered in shock, failing to hide the jealous glint in her eye. "You're joking!"

The younger witch shook her head. "There's a reason I kept him away from the office. I figured he'd interrogate you endlessly, boss. I can't believe you knew about it, sir!"

Snape rested his head upon his hand. "The boy was a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. Subtlety is not in his repertoire."

"Well, you should be safe for now, sir," she winked. "He's been seeing someone for months and is about to go public with it. I'm sure that's another thing his father will blame me for. I'm definitely not on John Dawlish's Christmas card list anymore."

"Nor am I," the man smirked. "Though, he is on mine."

Hermione raised one eyebrow as she looked at her husband quizzically. "Why? And since when do you send out Christmas cards?"

"The man has attempted to arrest me twice and once succeeded in personally escorting me to Azkaban, so I think it only fair to continuously remind him of how much I am enjoying my freedom," he replied with a casual shrug. "And Minerva sends out the cards. I merely provide her a list of names and relevant levels of condescension to be included within the message."

"You are incorrigible." She shook her head and returned her attention to the woman in the doorway. "Is there anything else you needed, Marie?"

"What about the werewolf legislation?"

The brunette gave a tight smile and scratched her eyebrow. "Manage the best you can."

"The absolute best I can?" Marie quipped, tilting her head with a sly grin. "I expect we might struggle a bit without adequate leadership."

"Well, if you do, you do," the older witch smirked.

"And this?" the blonde queried, gesturing between the couple. "Did I see this?"

Hermione snorted softly and glanced back at her husband, who was watching the pair of them with obvious interest. "Of course you saw it, though you should try keeping it to yourself."

"I see," Marie nodded, reaching for the door handle. "I will do my absolute best to keep quiet. Good day, boss. Headmaster."

As the door clicked shut, Severus continued eyeing his wife. "She's going to run her mouth, isn't she?"

"Perhaps," she smirked, stepping towards him and perching on his lap. "It'll give further credence to Skeeter's article."

"I suppose it would," he sighed, resting his hand on her knee. "Now, with you running around poking holes in the Ministry's foundation, how can you guarantee that they'll even want you back? Not that I haven't enjoyed everything you've worked out so far, but it may all be for naught if your endgame is flawed."

The witch gave a sly grin and leaned back against his shoulder. "It all hinges on Robards. He hasn't thrown his weight behind it yet because he's still getting his feet wet, but he wants the werewolf rights bill to pass. His brother-in-law was bitten during the War, and his sister will be breathing down his neck sooner rather than later. I'm not sure he realizes yet just how difficult it was to get it past the Wizengamot even with all of Kingsley's appointees supporting it. Now that he's replaced half of the council, it basically sent everything back to square one. After it flounders about for a year or two, he'll need me back. Then I'll have the upper hand and can choose whether or not I return to office."

When he grunted in contemplation, she sighed. "Plus, Ginny thinks he's enamored with me."

"What?" he snapped, glaring at the door as though the wizard in question were standing on the other side of it.

"According to Harry, he was planning on proposing to me even though the Act didn't apply to him," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "but then we announced our engagement, and he found some other damsel to rescue."

"He's far too old for you," he grumbled.

His wife glanced at him oddly and raised one eyebrow. "The same could be said about you."

Snape gave an affronted grunt. "I am practically old enough to be your father, yes, but he is literally old enough to be… Christ, he's more than old enough to be my father."

The woman giggled bemusedly and kissed his cheek. "Severus, I'm no more going to run after him than you are Julian Dawlish. I have no interest in him personally, and I have absolutely no interest in being the Minister's wife. Unless you suddenly adopt political aspirations, in which case I would gladly follow you to the top."

"Don't be absurd," he muttered beneath his breath.

"Then 'Headmaster's wife' will just have to suffice, won't it?" she smirked, tucking her head beneath his jaw.

"Indeed," he replied, slipping his arms around her frame. "And with all the effort you're putting into emotionally black-mailing the Minister, thwarting his administration, and violating Wizengamot statutes, it had better suffice for some time."

"I think it might," Hermione smiled against his chest.

He shook his head in astonishment. "Merlin, forget the politician, I've married a bloody criminal."

She bit her lip hesitantly as she peered up at him. "Well, I've often heard the two were synonymous."

When he grunted in agreement, she paused for a minute before she dared whisper, "So, are you upset with me?"

Severus's chest rose prominently as he took in a deep breath. "To be honest, I cannot quite decide whether I should yell at you or reverently carry you out of here."

The witch laughed in mild relief and sat upright. "I'd settle for help in carrying my things instead."

Her husband gave a brief nod and then glanced at the clock. "I suppose we had best begin if we wish to honor your vow of being out of here by lunch."

"I suppose," she sighed, rising from his lap. "Do you need to return to the school then, or can I elicit your help in clearing out my flat as well? Since technically I'm no longer eligible for residence in the building."

"I am certain that Minerva has already concluded that I am away and will have assumed responsibility," Snape replied, standing from the chair. "And I have no doubt that Albus went gossiping the moment I Flooed out of the office, so she will only contact me in the case of emergency."

Hermione narrowed her brow. "I thought the portraits were duty bound to keep the Headmaster's privacy."

The dark-haired wizard snorted and fixed her with pointed look. "And when have you ever known Albus Dumbledore to respect rules or regulations?"

"Point taken," she smirked, glancing about the room as she decided upon the best strategy to begin packing. The file cabinets only held departmental documents, which were to remain in the possession of whoever assumed her position. With a sigh, she silently prayed that Marie's youth would keep her from consideration, since it would undoubtedly reflect poorly on the witch's career were she to appear to struggle under the weight of failing legislation and then be replaced shortly by her predecessor.

"I do not believe it is that insurmountable," he murmured quietly, mistaking the idea of packing to be the cause of her sudden look of melancholy.

Though she knew that he was referring to the task before them presently, it still seemed to soothe the woman's real concerns. As her husband moved to stand behind her, she cast him an appreciative smile and quickly slipped her arms about his waist. She sighed a brief word of thanks and then continued in her visual assessment of the space. The majority of the books on the shelf were hers personally and there was a modest collection of belongings in her desk, but little else.

For nearly four years, this room had been the epitome of her life. She had spent more time here than she had anywhere else – her flat included – and it had served as an escape from the rest of her life whenever she had needed it. She had slaved away countless hours here, immersing herself in policy and legislation to stave off the emotional wasteland that had become her personal life. It had always been her method of coping – when Ron had grown weary of playing second string to her university coursework, when her other relationships had fizzled into nothingness, when Crookshanks had died, when she could not bear to think about Severus and their lost child – to bury herself in work.

But even when she should have been enjoying things, the office had come first. It had not just been her 'wedding' that she had squeezed in when she thought she could manage, but her entire marriage. She had been the one who had relegated Severus to one Saturday a month – fitting him in between her work and ovulation schedules. And her pregnancy – as excited as she had been to be a mother, she had not bothered to make that her priority. How many appointments had she rescheduled on short notice, jostling not only Healer Fairborne's timetable, but Severus's as well? How many evenings had she kept plugging away at revisions and research, ignoring her aching body and drooping eyelids, when she should have been putting her feet up and relaxing at home?

For nearly four years, this office had represented her greatest success in life. At twenty-four, she had been the youngest witch ever to be appointed to head her own departmental office, which she had helped design, and she had been on-track to be one of the most influential radical legislators the Wizarding World had seen in decades, if not centuries. But what did she really have to show for it? A shelf-full of books, a few drawers' worth of office supplies, and a stack of half-hearted notes of congratulations from colleagues.

"Hermione?" Snape addressed softly, somewhat concerned by the tension in his wife's body as she continued to cling to him. "Is there something wrong?"

The woman cleared her throat as she chased away her thoughts and memories. Mentally determining that she would treat her resignation as a means of transfiguring her prerogatives, she took in a deep breath and glanced up at him. "Not anymore."

He raised one eyebrow in response. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," she nodded, finally releasing him. She rubbed her forehead and then glanced back at her desk. Her brow narrowed in confusion as she slowly lowered her hand to her side. "Severus, why am I staring at a bottle of champagne?"

The wizard shrugged casually as he leaned against a file cabinet. "Was it not agreed upon that I owed you a bottle?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't expect you to make good on it immediately."

"Nor did I," he replied with a smug grin on his face, "but who be I to pass up the offer of free booze on behalf of the Ministry?"

Hermione picked up the bottle and glanced up at him with a curious expression. "The Ministry is handing out bottles of champagne?"

"To all happily divorced couples," he nodded, "as a means of apology, I suppose."

After setting it down, she folded her arms to her chest. "Last I checked, we weren't divorced. Did you think we were, or did you just lie?"

"I told no lie, Mrs. Snape," he smirked, crossing his arms to mock her stance. "As I entered the lobby, I was asked by one of the information-wizards if I had signed a divorce petition. When I answered – truthfully, I might add – that I had, in fact, done so over the weekend, he presented me with that."

"Of course, you couldn't be bothered to correct him," she rolled her eyes.

"If his incompetence prevents him from noticing that I still wear a ring, that's his own fault," he sneered, stepping around the desk. "Besides, I plan on milking the Ministry for every knut I possibly can… or do you personally hold claim to the corner on that particular market?"

With a laugh, Hermione caught his eye. "I suppose I could share the corner."

"How considerate of you." He then cleared his throat and gestured to the bookshelf. "Which of these are yours?"

After giving an amused sigh, the witch pointed out the few books that did not belong to her, and the two of them worked efficiently to pack her entire professional life into a single crate.

A half hour later, as she slipped the bottle of champagne into her messenger bag, her husband grabbed hold of the strap and slung it over his shoulder. Picking up the carton of minimized books with one arm, he gestured toward the door with his head. "Are you ready?"

She glanced about the room one final time and then nodded confidently as she slipped her hand into his free one. "More than ready."

Severus squeezed her hand gently as she opened the door, and as they walked through the Office for the Prevention of Cruelty and Unfair Practices against Magical Creatures, it was quite evident that Marie Zeller had wasted no time in gossiping. Grimacing, he attempted to ignore the few suggestive winks being sent his way from some of the male staff, and focused simply on guiding his wife in the direction of the exit.

As they reached the Office door, they paused long enough for Hermione to give a brief farewell. When she was met by a heartfelt round of applause – and whistles from Marie's direction – she choked back tears and tugged her husband into the corridor before she completely broke down.

"You'll be back soon enough," he whispered as they made their way toward the lift station.

The woman wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand and nodded. "I know."

When the lift arrived on their level, the two stepped into the car and let out a collective, relieved sigh. Just as the witch turned to smile up at him, the car lurched to a stop and the doors flew open to admit another occupant.

Pressing her lips to the downy head of the baby sleeping on her shoulder, Ginny Potter murmured softly to her son before glancing up as she stepped into the lift. Startled by the sudden appearance of her best friend holding hands with her former Professor, the redhead coughed lightly and blinked several times. "Hermione! I was just coming to see you."

"Oh, well," the older witch stammered, "I guess it's good you caught me, then. I've just resigned."

Severus snorted as his wife's friend's eyes widened into saucers.

"What?" she hissed, remembering at the last second that she was holding a sleeping child. "Why?"

Hermione took a deep breath as she flexed her fingers within her husband's grasp. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that I'm reexamining my life."

The younger woman flicked her eyes to her friend's stomach, but at seeing the subtle shake of her head, she cleared her throat and stepped out of the way of the lift doors. A wicked gleam appeared in her eye as she turned slightly away from them. "Well, might I say that the two of you appear rather comfortable."

Shaking her head in minor disbelief, the brunette leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Extraordinarily mind-blowing, actually."

"Is that so?" Ginny smirked, glancing over her shoulder at the other Gryffindor witch before eyeing the wizard appraisingly. "I didn't know you had it in you, Professor."

Snape's gaze snapped to the ginger's smug expression and then to his wife's flushed cheeks. Accurately surmising the situation, he rolled his shoulders and casually looked ahead of him. "Yes, well, I suppose only having been with Potter, you wouldn't know a real man if he bit you on the arse."

Fire flashed across her eyes, but quickly simmered into a devious grin as she glanced at her friend. "You never told me you were into arse-biting, Hermione."

An indignant gasp escaped the witch as she quickly smacked her husband's shoulder.

"She's the one who said it," he growled.

"Yes, but you're the one trying to best a Weasley at her own game," she snapped.

Severus snorted haughtily as he rocked slightly on his feet. "Don't pay her any mind, darling – she's merely concerned that if she lets Potter near hers, it won't be her bottom he's envisioning."

While Ginny's mouth had initially parted in disbelief at hearing the term of endearment in the silky voice, her jaw dropped fully at the insinuation. "Harry isn't gay."

"If that's what you choose to believe," he sneered.

The redhead narrowed her eyes into a glare. "He isn't."

"Huh," he grunted, glancing above her head. "My mistake, then."

As Ginny spun to face the front of the lift, Hermione stared at her husband suspiciously. When he peered out of the corner of his eye at her, a smile played at the edges of his mouth. She briefly glanced at her friend's unsettled expression and then returned her gaze to Severus's triumphant face. Shaking her head, she slapped his arm again. "You are such a prat!"

"And you, madam," he smirked, "are abusive."

The witch rolled her eyes and laid a gentle hand on Ginny's shoulder. "He's just kidding, Gin. Harry is madly in love with you, and he knows that."

The redhead huffed and glared over her shoulder. "That wasn't funny."

"I believe that is a matter of opinion, Mrs. Potter."

"Arse," she snapped, though her tone was less harsh as she touched her stomach briefly before returning her hand to Jamie's backside.

Severus raised one eyebrow as glanced back at his wife's censuring stare and was about to offer further explanation when the lift car again jerked to a stop, and she stumbled into his side. As two chuckling elder wizards stepped into the car, he let go of her hand and helped steady her by slipping his arm around her waist.

With five of them in the small space, Ginny had been forced a step closer to the couple, and, as a result, Hermione found herself staring directly at the top of the sleeping baby's head. Biting her lip, she watched his torso rise and fall several times before closing her eyes and ducking her head.

Having watched her face fall, the dark-haired man gently ran his hand along her spine and over her shoulder. As she turned into his embrace, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her forehead. When she took in a shuddering breath, he whispered, "It will happen. I know it."

As if sensing a change in the atmosphere, the redhead glanced behind her just in time to see Hermione nod slowly and rest her head against her husband's chest. When she noticed the pained expression on her friend's face and the tenderness with which Snape ran his one free hand over her hair, Ginny returned her eyes to the door, feeling intrusive for having witnessed such a moment of vulnerability. An odd sense of guilt washed over her when she realized what had been the cause of their distress and she found it beginning to gnaw away at the protection afforded her by the Anti-Nausea Potion she had taken an hour prior.

Thankfully, the car soon screeched to a halt as it reached the Ministry lobby. As soon as the doors were clear, she scampered out onto the cool – and blissfully stationary – black marble and took several deep breaths until the queasy feeling passed. Upon opening her eyes again, she noticed with relief that Hermione and her former professor no longer bore anguished expressions as they exited the lift, hand-in-hand.

"Erm," she stammered, following them in the direction of the Floos, "would the two of you be free for supper? There's something Harry and I were thinking of discussing with you."

The brunette glanced up at her husband. "Well –"

"Actually, Hermione and I have a prior engagement this evening," Snape interrupted, drawing a surprised and questioning gaze from his wife.

As realization dawned upon her, the witch blushed and leaned into him as she addressed her friend. "Right, I nearly forgot. Perhaps tom—"

The wizard cleared his throat loudly.

" –erm, next week?" Hermione finished brightly, staring up at him.

Ginny took in the heated gaze shared between the pair and sucked in a quick breath. "Next week will be fine. I'll send you an owl to find out which night works best if –"

"Sounds good, Gin," the older woman stated loudly without breaking eye contact with Severus. "We'll see you soon."

As the pair disappeared into the nearest emerald green flame, Ginny chuckled under her breath and glanced down at her son, who was now awake and fussing slightly. "Well, it's about time they figured it out, huh?"