Disclaimer: I do not own and/or am not affiliated with Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, etc. ; if I were I'd be off attempting to hit on Alan Rickman.

A/N: Thank you for all the super-awesome-kind reviews. I'll share the (not HP related) projects I've been working on that have been keeping me from this once they're finished. See note at bottom for A/N 2 (to avoid minor spoilers).

/

"Miss kept it down this time."

Wulfric dropped into one of the study's leather armchairs with a sigh. His height made it difficult to plop into the chair with both drama and dignity, but he somehow managed both… even after playing nursemaid to a panicked Hermione Granger.

"Thank you."

For the first time in a long time (if ever), the silence between Severus and 'his' house elf was awkward.

Immensely awkward.

They both knew that contrary to popular belief, Snape did occasionally engage in coitus, albeit never at home during the war(s). It was an entirely different manner, however, for the elf to know exactly how often the wizard would be fulfilling his "marital duties" once the wedding took place. Did Wulfric clean the sheets with magic, or ...?

It was best he didn't know. Snape glanced at the clock on the mantle.

"Do you think...?"

Wulfric let Snape's trailing question hang for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "I believe she may be finished, or at least approaching so. And I believe you should go to her."

Snape stood, pressed the wrinkles from his pants, and then blasted the clock (and several stones) right off the mantle. Wulfric repaired the scorched area without ceremony; Snape scowled and stalked to the bathroom.

Crying Gryfinndors – or ones in full-blown panic attacks – had never been his strong suit.

That didn't mean he hesitated outside the lavatory door. No, he walked right up to it with his normal quick strides, rapped on the door, and proceeded to put his foot directly into his mouth.

"Do you wish to ... speak... Miss- Herm- Grang - hell!" He rested his head on the door frame with a thud and continued in a growling, angry mumble. "I can lie to the Dark Lord while silently mocking his lack of nose but can't form a proper sentence around a crying woman!"

"Severus, did you mean to say that so lou-"

"FUCK!" Stupid, sodding, wall-piercing baritone of a voice!

Well, at least he'd made her laugh – assuming that's what the sound on the other side of the door was.

"It's open."

He pushed the door open gently, unsure of where she'd be in the small room. She'd relinquished her grip on the toilet bowl and appeared to have washed her face, which still held a trace of a smile from her laughter. It faded when she started in on what he was sure would be a lengthy, rambling rant, based on the sharp intake of breath before she began.

"Just so you know, Severus, none of this is because of you in particular-"

He was surprised, then annoyed, by the small wave of relief that washed over him. Usually in cases like this, it was him in particular. Pay attention, you fool!

"- the principle of the thing. That, and the huge long-term ramifications. I mean, I haven't read a single parenting book yet! I just thought I'd have more time before... I guess I thought we'd beat it before all this."

She wavered toward the bowl again. Snape held out a hand to her with as much sarcasm as could possibly be infused in the gallant gesture.

"Don't get yourself all worked up again, Granger. We're not pregnant yet."

She nodded and accepted his help up. Much better. Now I can only sprain my neck minutely while looking down at her.

"But the timeline is absolutely insane," she said. "I don't see how we can fulfill the terms and not conceive."

She reached around him to get her toothbrush and turned on the tap. He met her eyes in the mirror and was struck by how oddly intimate the situation had become.

"You underestimate me, Hermione."

Great job, Severus, on what sounded like bragging about a low sperm count.

"Pensieves!" She said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Ah, yes, dentists. Is it required that I meet her parents? She ducked her head briefly to spit (and thankfully seemed to have taken his words at face value).

"'Pensieves to provide evidence of marital consummation if requested'. I don't want any of those … those … creeps watching me!"

"You know, Hermione - some people enjoy that kind of thing. Why not let your inner exhibitionist out?" It was a good thing she looked up from rinsing to catch his sneer, lest he be hexed beyond recognition.

"But how do we use birth control methods without getting caught in the Pensieve? What if we slip up?"

She finished up and turned around to face him properly, towel in hand. She didn't deny the exhibitionist bit, and certainly not because Hermione know-it-all-Granger didn't know the word…

"You're taking about the brightest witch of her age, who also happens to have some experience with memory spells, and the foremost living Occlumens and Legillimens. We'll do fine."

She nodded, but her mouth pressed into a thin line that Snape could have told her brought out her inner Minerva... but didn't. Despite her annoyance, she seemed to be feeling better. Anger still radiated off her, but the panic had dissipated from her voice. He crossed his arms over his chest with a scoff.

"Do keep in mind that failing all that, a large percentage of the Ministry lackeys that would be made to view marital pensieves have been under my tutelage, and would sooner curse out their own eyes than see me copulate."

After a millisecond of surprise, she laughed. There it is. His mouth turned up the smallest bit at the corners in response and, Merlin help him, he didn't stop it. Her posture relaxed and she took a step toward him.

"You know, Severus, some people might enjoy that kind of thing."

He raised an eyebrow and leaned back coolly against the wall.

"Very funny, Ms. Granger."

She bit her lip and smiled at him. He wasn't sure if it was the implication behind her words, the sight of her bottom lip flushed and pinched between her teeth, or the naughty little grin, but –

"You'd be surprised what things come out in the girls' dormitory, especially after some Quidditch-related not quite legal celebratory drinks..."

She'd crept toward him while talking, and her index finger ran little lines over the fabric on his arm before he even realized she'd gotten close enough to do so. Not that he could blame himself for not noticing, given the circumstances.

"Oh really?" He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his voice from fluctuating. How the atmosphere had escalated from intimate to intimate merely due to his horrid attempts to stop her crying was beyond him. "Do enlighten me, Miss Granger."

"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that. Not the usual inappropriate comments about a professor, but weirdly stratified and specific ones since you were so different from the other professors."

"That's a rather diplomatic way of putting it. Go on."

"Let's see," she said. The colour had begun to come back to her cheeks. "Your hands were a rather common topic of conversation. More specifically, your long, dexterous fingers. And your voice was on the list as well, obviously."

"Obviously."

She grinned. "That's the tone. Your mysterious past and dramatic entrances and speeches did scads as well. We wondered what you were hiding underneath all those frocks."

"That is absolutely absurd. I do not recall ever wearing multiple frocks. Kindly remove that notion from your mind."

"Fine: layers of tailored stuff with layers of billowy stuff over them. Whatever. Anyway, you ended up being the subject of many an odd conversation or dare, which of course were either not acted upon, failed, or just went unnoticed by you."

That certainly piqued his interest. His eyes snapped up and he held her gaze; he waited until she blushed lightly to ask his question. They cold both do with a little distraction right now.

"And you wouldn't happen to have a personal experience with these hitherto unknown goings-on, would you?"

"N-nooo… I was never big on the dare bit. I always ended up picking truth, which usually ended up in me telling them I fancied you a bit or that Ron and I hadn't yet."

His eyes pierced into her. Experience told him she'd spill if he waited it out. Five, four, three –

"Okay!" She let out a deep breath. "Okay. I did a raunchy dare once. Once. And you must understand that I was drunk, accidentally swore a Drinking Oath – I didn't even know there was such a thing, honestly – and old enough to be of consent but young enough to be stupid and hormonal."

"Out with it, then."

"I can't believe I'm about to tell you this." She dropped her gaze and her blush deepened. "And I mean that in the literal sense – I never actually believed I would go through with it, much less tell you about it years later."

He gave a fraction of a nod and waved her on.

"I had to sit at the front in one of your classes. Lavender Brown shortened my skirt to an absolutely slutty length in the hallway right before I went in, so I wouldn't get caught on the way there. She also checked to make sure I went through with the most important part of the dare."

"Which was?"

"The no-underwear part."

He definitely did not remember this.

"So I had to sit there the whole time with the Gryffindors thinking I've gone off the deep end, crossing and uncrossing and opening my legs and freezing my ass off in your beloved dungeons, and you didn't even notice. I was horrified that you would, but I was just as nervous about the consequences of not going through with the dare as I was about having an apparent wardrobe malfunction. I even dropped my quill a few times. And my textbook – I figured you'd know something was amiss when Hermione Granger dropped a book. I also did some of that incessant hand-waving you hate."

She stopped, but her awkwardness implied she wasn't quite finished. He decided to use "that tone" to his advantage.

"And?"

Another sigh. "I tried to get detention. I, um, corrected you during a lecture."

His eyebrows shot up. She nodded.

"You must have had more important things on your mind, because you didn't even take points. Anyway, the girls decided that I fulfilled the dare to the best of my abilities and couldn't be faulted that you didn't look below the table or apparently in my general direction at all, and I was spared."

However engrossing it was to think about in hindsight, Snape was relieved that he wasn't a lecherous scumbag. Which was, of course, debatable now with his choice of future wife, but he'd never, ever done or thought anything even remotely inappropriate with or about a student. Well, aside from brief fantasies of strangling them, but what Professor hadn't had those fond daydreams from time to time?

He cleared his throat. "That is… quite the dare."

"Yes." There was an uncomfortable pause. "You should have heard the truths."

He knew he wanted to hear them for himself when the 'oh shit' expression slowly dawned across her face. He smirked, and she dropped her head in defeat.

"I did fancy you, you know, in the sense that I admired you greatly and theoretically wondered what it would be like to jump your bones. I wasn't deluded into thinking anything more than that."

"Old information, Granger. Let's hear one."

She rolled her eyes but complied.

"Ginny had the habit of asking people what their fantasies were if we picked truth – and almost everybody did with her, since she was raised with Fred and George and had no normal sense of what dares should entail."

He'd be amused by that last bit later – for now he was interested in the first.

"I find that I am less curious about what actually transpired than I am about what these fantasies of yours were - are."

She turned away, but didn't avoid his eyes in the mirror. "I'm doing an awful lot of the talking here, Severus. You first?"

He stepped forward and leaned over her shoulder, close to her ear; his eyes stayed locked on hers while he spoke.

"I have been fantasizing about what's under this dress all night." He lightly trailed a hand down to the hem of her dress, and then slipped the tips of his fingers beneath it. Slowly, carefully he hiked up the skirt and greedily took in the skin he bared. What in the world did I do to deserve… this?

"Slytherin-silver lace, as promised," she said.

He tugged upward on the panties and nearly went cross-eyed trying to watch both the bunching of the fabric and the expression on her face. The intensity of the look between them was staggering.

"Your turn, Miss Granger."

"I often thought about, um…" She closed her eyes. Gods, she was thinking about it right now. "About you just pushing my skirt up and taking me right there, bent over one of the Potions tables, or your desk, or even one of the stored cauldrons. It would be rough and carnal and quick, but I'd have the bruises on my thighs from the desk as a secret little reminder for a few days after."

She had to feel his arousal against her backside. He moved forward to press against her and slid his hand from her panty line to her hip. Her eyes were still closed, and before he could speak she bit her lip and opened her mouth again. Is this happening?

"When I had time to be more, um, creative, I imagined we were in the Potions storeroom. You'd start kissing me and things would get heated, and then the little bottles of ingredients would clink when you finally backed me into the shelves. We would stay mostly dressed since we were at risk of getting caught. You'd slip your hand under my skirt and, finding me wet, rip my knickers off or just Vanish them entirely. Then you'd put me up against the ladder, or maybe over it, it didn't matter, and just pound into me. It had to be quick. Your hand would go over my mouth to stifle the moans since there were people just outside and you'd shush me with a strained voice that sounded like you were trying not to moan yourself. After you came you'd make me come, and then reach up nonchalantly to one of the shelves and hand me some kind of salve for the aftereffects."

"That – all of those – can be arranged, Miss Granger." At some point he'd closed his eyes, too; he opened them to find her looking just as lust-filled as he felt. He thrust against her with a growl, and slid the back of her dress up. "If you will allow me to … improvise… I can arrange one now."

"Yesss-"

He'd ripped the sexy but cock-impeding panties off her before the she got the second 's' out, and freed himself from his pants an instant later. He pushed her forward over the vanity and grabbed her hips, and she made the most glorious sound he had ever heard when he slammed fully into her. He pulled back and thrust into her at a rapid pace that became more and more reckless as he watched, in their reflection, her still-covered breasts bounce and her mouth go slack with pleasure. He moved one hand to muffle her moans, and the other between her legs to create more.

"Come for me, witch," he growled in her ear. "Is this what you want?"

She pushed back against him wantonly in response and groaned against his hand. He rubbed his fingers faster against her and bit the sensitive patch between her neck and shoulder; she tensed and then began to spasm around him. He followed quickly behind, though much more loudly as there was no one there to clamp his mouth shut.

He leaned forward with her and rested his head on her back, panting. One hell of a 'Quicky' - what a horrible colloquialism. Before he could think further on it, Granger shot up; had he slower reflexes, she'd have most likely broken his nose.

"Severus! Do you think Wulfric-"

"Relax. I cast a Silencing charm when I walked in. He'll be cantankerous from lack of eavesdropping, but no worse for the wear emotionally."

She slumped down against the vanity. "So what will we do about the contraceptives?"

Typical Granger – though he should be congratulated for keeping her from thinking for as long as he had. "Practice, as you suggested from the beginning of this whole charade," he said. "Repeatedly. And lie."

/

"Five more minutes."

"No. Get up."

"Four more minutes?"

Hermione burrowed into the sheets on her bed. She vaguely remembered Snape half-carrying her into her room – the closest bed – after their little… whatever that was… in the loo. He'd then shed a few layers of clothes, plopped down unceremoniously next to her, and proceeded to pass out. How long had they been asleep?

She shrieked when the bedclothes ripped away, and looked up to see Severus standing beside the bed fully dressed and completely annoyed. Her mental fog dispersed as she took in the look on his face.

"The papers are in. I assumed you would like additional information as soon as it became available. First, however, I believe you should get changed and take a look at the parcel that arrived."

"What is it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Granger. Come see for yourself."

Hermione threw on some clean clothes (how in the world had she managed to sleep in that dress?) and followed Snape into the kitchen. Wulfric stood on a stool blocking her view of what was presumably the day's post. Snape would only tell her it was a package from Malfoy that had passed through Wulfric's owl re-routing system and security checks just before lunch.

Wulfric stepped aside to reveal a large wicker basket filled to the brim with-

"You're right. I wouldn't have believed you. A fruit basket? He sent a fruit basket?"

"Bribes are no rare thing from a Malfoy." Snape reached forward to pluck a parchment - and a grape -from the package. "Apologies, however, are."

Hermione yanked the letter from his hand.

"Severus,

I am deeply sorry for my actions and wish you and Miss Granger a long life of marital bliss. You clearly staked your claim and, as your friend, I should have honored it. Please accept this gift basket as a token of apology, though I do not expect it to make up for my actions.

Regrets,

Lucius"

She looked up, fuming, to Snape, who was gleefully (well, gleefully for Snape) pulling out some rare potions ingredients tucked beneath the various fruits.

"Severus - you wouldn't know how to attach a hex to a Howler, would you?"

His eyes narrowed, and then he smirked. "Feeling devious are we, Miss Granger?"

She grinned, and his eyes flicked to the parchment. Had she flipped it over before she pressed it back into his hand, she might have seen Lucius' post-script:

"You're welcome".

/\/\

A/N: The concept of a binding drinking bet/game is not mine; it's been in quite a few fics over the years. I have no idea where it originated but it fits in nicely (to me at least) next to canon, so... here we are. I wasn't sure where to end this chapter, so expect more plot next time - Hermione's had her freak-out and now she's ready to go the library and get shit DONE.