"And that," she whispered triumphantly, "is why it's better to be a team than try to play solo. We won, doing it as a team!"
He nodded, a small smirk on his face. "If you say so," he said, deceptively mild, before letting Morgana crawl into her lap, the girl settling there with a disgruntled sigh. His regrown arm still ached, like the muscles were protesting being used, and holding a squirming two-year-old still was a daunting affair, even though St. Mungo's had done their very best. The award ceremony was just as dull as he had expected, speeches almost boring him to tears.
It had been almost too easy, really, setting up a grand revel for the Death Eaters to celebrate Severus as their new leader, having the Aurors swarming the place, bringing the lot of them to Azkaban. The Minister had been very amenable to his suggestion to administer the Kiss, given that the perpetrators had already infiltrated and compromised the Ministry plus orchestrated a mass-breakout from Azkaban twice.
Minister Croaker had nodded, his eyes shadowed: "Yes, I believe you're right, Professor. I can't afford having people doubt the Ministry in this anymore. Decisive measures must be taken."
The important thing, however, was those who weren't taken. His true brethren, Lucius and his select group of friends, weren't present, of course. Their pact still held, and he had the loyalty of his own Inner Circle, his longtime allies. They'd keep quiet, obeying their new master, most of them already sent on missions abroad to make his plan real. The rest, the low level scum, the silly newcomers plus those who couldn't be trusted were disposed of. The Dementors of Azkaban would be bloated for days.
With a sigh, he accepted that the ceremony was a necessity: the accolades, the speeches and the gawking audience, as the three Gryffindors and Severus were awarded a "Special Services Award," given that they already held an Order of Merlin First Class. The Slytherin in him enjoyed, even relished the honour, but the ritual trappings were … oh well.
Apparently, Morgana was bored too, and he couldn't fault the girl. Restlessly, she fidgeted in Hermione's lap until she suddenly stilled, a devious grin on her tiny face. Pressing her hands together, she stared hard at the official continuing his never-ending speech, until flames and smoke suddenly combusted at the hem of his cloak. Through their soul-bond he could feel the little girl's overwhelming joy and boundless sense of achievement - "I can do it! I did it!" - as well as Hermione's shock and mortification. He supposed both his witch and his .. daughter … could feel his surprise and amusement in equal parts, as strong emotions tended to carry over through their bond.
With a shout, the official tried to stomp out the flames, his blue robes turning black, flakes of ashes drifting upwards as the flames ate the fabric, creating an acrid smoke. The fire seemed to be surprisingly vehement, licking up his legs like a hungry beast, until three Aurors stepped forward, dousing him with shouted "Aguamenti!" as thick jets of water sprouted from their wands.
Wet and shaking, water dripping from his entire body, the ornate ceremonial robes blackened and burnt all the way to his thighs, the official profusely thanked the Aurors, before completing his speech in record time.
Beside Severus, the tiny perpetrator was silently laughing, gleeful mirth on her adorable face, but Hermione whispered in her ear, gently scolding her for such horrid behaviour.
The crowd around them whispered, glancing around, while a few sniggered, but no one seemed to realize that a two-year-old had been the cause of the attempted arson. Because really, that should be impossible, but not for HIS daughter.
Leaning in, Severus muttered in Hermione's ear: "She must have learned that somewhere. I can't even begin to imagine where. Who on earth would set fire to someone else like that?"
Her cheeks bright red with embarrassment, she glared at him, before indignantly whispering: "I most certainly didn't teach her that!"
Smirking at her, he quite enjoyed her discomfort. So, she had never thought he'd find out, did she? To be frank, he had been somewhat impressed back then, because not many first years would have been able to do such a thing - or rather, would have had the guts to go through with it.
Luckily, it was time to receive the awards, or else this might have ended in a small row.
Hermione smiled brightly to the cameras, showing off the medal, while he stared impassively at the photographers, Morgana on his arm, the little girl smiling winningly at the flashing cameras, twirling a curl around her finger like she was the most adorable - not to mention innocent - child ever.
This was the part of the ceremony that he secretly enjoyed, though he'd never admit to it openly. He supposed it was due the Slytherin pride in him, seeing his ambitions fulfilled and his work praised. He certainly hadn't had too much of that earlier in his life. Being lauded as a hero, of the prettiest and most powerful witch in Britain on his arm, showing everyone that she belonged to him. And his daughter - his great responsibility - the girl who'd get everything he could ever give her. He'd secure her future, and hopefully make sure she didn't turn out too dark.
After the ceremony, Morgana had been sent home to Hogwarts with Minerva and Euphemina, chattering happily to the older witches, making both of them smile. Severus suspected the girl had realized that she shouldn't brag about setting fire to someone, or else the two witches wouldn't have looked quite that happy. Or maybe Morgana had entwined them around her little finger to the degree that they would accept even that.
Snorting softly, he squeezed Hermione's arm, saying softly in her ear: "Go mingle. There are people here that you should connect to, expanding your network. Show them who's Britain's next star in Arithmancy."
She gave him a small smile, and slipped away in the throng, his eyes following her as she steered straight to a group of renowned scientists and researchers, Septima talking animatedly in the middle of the group, welcoming Hermione in their midst by a long hug.
Weasley had glanced at them, an odd expression on his face as he saw Hermione's happiness. Slouching, like he was reluctant, he came over to Severus, saying quietly: "I can see she's happy with you. She never was with me, you know."
Arching an eyebrow, he said: "I know, Weasley. Trust me, I know."
The young man reddened, but to his credit, he took the insult in his stride, saying: "Congrats, then. Keep on making her happy." Then he grinned cheekily. "Though I'm not sure you deserve her, Professor."
Severus sipped his champagne, looking at Hermione eagerly talking with the leader of the Arithmancer's Guild.
"You're right, Weasley, I don't. However, I am going to make her happy."
Young Weasley snorted, before excusing himself, prowling after a pretty witch sashaying past them, her eyelashes fluttering as she saw the tall redhead going straight for her. His fiancee sat at their table, glaring at his back, slowly petting the tiny bump of her stomach.
Lucius came over, tipping his head at him. "Decent fellow, that Weasley boy. We should recruit him. He'd be good for business."
Severus shook his head. "Too goody-two-shoes. Too much of a Gryffindor."
His friend smirked. "Oh, he seems like he has the right instincts and not too many moral restraints. Look at him, not even blinking as he shames his fiancee, though I daresay he knows he shouldn't."
Glancing around, Severus spotted Molly Weasley's face grow redder, before she kicked her chair back, marching out on the dance floor to haul her wayward son back to his fiancee.
Lowering his voice, Lucius said: "I've got news from our - friend - in France. The deal has gone through, and we're setting up shop in Vannes."
"Wonderful," he responded, preoccupied by watching his own little witch laughing. "I'll transfer the recipes, if our … contact … can vet the applicants. First and foremost, we want to provide quality when building our reputation. The news from Italy are promising too, and we'll be able to import as soon as the factory is in working order."
Lucius sighed. "It'll be good to get a … refund ... on the expenses. No matter what one says about the Dark Lord, he was an expensive house guest."
Severus couldn't help snorting. "Or parasitic, leeching on our resources. We need to replenish, securing both our reputation and our finances. Vannes is nothing but the first step on the ladder."
"To D.E. Industries," Lucius said, clinking his glass to Severus'.
"D.E. Industries," he responded gravely. "May we prosper."
Both men turned quiet, as rapid steps approached. "Severus!" his witch said, grinning widely. "I've got my first article accepted to the Arithmancer Today! Remmandero, the leader of the Guild just told me!"
"Congratulations, my dear," he said, giving her a smile. Someone in the crowd pointed at him, gawking, and belatedly, he remembered to put his stern, blank expression back on. She made it easy to forget he was in public. Soon, he'd be acting like the besotted fool he was, if he didn't pay attention.
"I'm so happy," she said, snuggling into the crook of his arm, beaming, making his heart expand.
"I'll leave the two of you lovebirds to it," Lucius said with a leering smirk. "By the way, Narcissa says hi, and cordially invites both of you to dinner on Sunday."
Beside him, he felt Hermione pause, but he didn't miss a beat. "Tell Narcissa we'll be happy to be there."
Lucius retreated, still with that obnoxious grin, silver robe flaring around him as he moved.
"I don't like their house," Hermione said plaintively, looking up at him.
"I know," he said, pulling her closer. "But it's just a house. Nothing can harm you while I'm there. remember, Narcissa is Morgana's aunt."
With a deep sigh, she said braving a small smile, though it wavered: "I know. Besides… Oh well, it's like getting back in the saddle, isn't it? Face my fears?"
"My brave girl," he whispered into her hair. "You're doing so well, my darling."
Then he couldn't help himself, public attention be damned. She looked so good, the crowning glory to his victory. Putting a heavy hand to the small of her back, he steered her towards the corner.
"Where are we going?" she asked, looking curiously at him.
"We're going somewhere … private," he muttered.
Her eyes became round, before they glittered mischievously.
"In the antechamber?" she said, voice low. "Where we waited before the award ceremony? Oh, that's … naughty, isn't it?"
They slipped inside the small room, and he warded it to the nines, before pushing her into the wall. The sounds from the reception were still loud, people chattering, glasses clinking and music playing in the background. Taking her here, with only a wall between them and hundreds of people was … arousing. Severus was already hard, his cock straining against his trousers, ready to ravage his witch.
"This will be quick," he muttered, kissing her hungrily, nibbling on her bottom lip.
With a small gasp, she nodded. "Quick," she repeated, hooking a leg around his hip.
With a grunt, he hiked up her dress with his weak arm, before hefting her up to his hip, putting her weight on his good arm, one hand gripping her arse. She slung her legs around his waist, leaning back against the wall, her eyes big, dark and filled with a mischievous desire that made his cock throb insistently.
Freeing himself by magically opening his trousers, he pushed her knickers aside, before positioning himself.
Her mouth opened with a gasp, like he pushed the air out of her lungs, as he thrust inside that warm, wet heat, stretching her out, impaling her onto him.
"You're so ready for me, witchling," he mumbled, feeling almost feverish, his hips setting their own pace, a furious, quick rhythm. This wasn't the time for gentleness, there would be no easing her into the stretch of his cock this time.
"I am, Severus, I am," she whined, one of her own hands snaking down to touch herself between their bodies.
Eyes locking, he felt like drowning in her, his cock drenched by her wetness, his soul warmed by her love, and he thrust like he tried to forget himself, to be one with her, to lose all he was into this tight warmth that was all her. She rubbed herself faster with uneven gasps, before she trembled, convulsing around him, her mouth opening, like she wanted to scream.
Leaning in to kiss her, he let himself devour her, letting the torrent of her orgasm rush him along, his spine tingling with heat, before he erupted into her, marking her with his seed, filling her up through great spasms of bliss.
"Oh," he said weakly, coming down from his high, still deep inside her, her tight walls spasming around his still pulsing cock. "Oh, I…" It was difficult to say the words, because they seemed to pale against his true emotions, but in the end, there were no other words: "I love you so much. I'll do anything for you, my sweet. Please, be mine forever, will you? Stay with me, don't leave me, ever."
Hermione smiled up at him, eyes bright and filled with love, whispering: "Yes. Forever, you and me."
He kissed her, now gentle and soft, still lodged inside her, and in the end, he rested his brow against hers, closing his eyes to the blessed afterglow.
He'd give her anything - everything. To be with her was, after all, the greatest victory of all. Though… He liked his little games, still. No matter what, he really didn't deserve her, but he would never let her go.
Severus wondered how long he'd manage to keep the D.E. Industries a secret from her. Not for long, he suspected. She was far too smart, and he was sure, she'd set terms as to what he could do with the money. No dubious investments.
Still, a Slytherin never let anyone be on an equal footing. To be a Slytherin meant to be one step ahead, being ambitious enough to win, no matter what it took, while taking care of ones' family and friends. That's where the Dark Lord had failed, because his plans only took care of himself, not anyone else. His Lord had failed to see that his Death Eaters wanted to prosper, gaining the respect of the society while cunningly subverting it from within, securing the freedom to pursue the Dark Arts, seeking magical power and knowledge. And he had failed to see that love could be a path to victory, albeit an unpredictable one. Severus would do better than that.
Hermione sighed, resting her head against his chest, nuzzling into the cloth of his robes. Her limbs relaxing, she grew heavier in his arms, but still he held her up, his cock slowly softening inside her as his seed oozed out of her.
Kissing her hair again, he felt so very content. He'd never tell her about how he tottered on the brink of darkness. How close it had been, always. Even until the end. Even … now.
He could do anything now. With their financial plan rolling, as a respected member of the society, soon to be Headmaster of Hogwart again and with Hermione Granger at his side - oh yes, he'd be heading the Wizengamot soon, changing the laws, pardoning his brethren, making sure it was legal to pursue the Dark Arts. Morgana would have a world fit for her to live in, where she could be a respected member of the society, not shunned for her immense power, a world where she could pursue knowledge without stepping outside the law.
That's what he had always wanted - more knowledge and to be respected - to be someone. That's why he had become a Death Eater in the first place, to transcend the boundaries of magic and to be something more than a poor Half-blood from a mill town. And now, it would be all the better for it, sharing his life with a witch whose thirst for knowledge was equal to his own and a daughter who'd have every opportunity to win the world. They would both be safe, and he'd take so good care of them. Because first and foremost, he was a protector. And now, he had a family of his own.