Author's Note: Hello again! Tis I, your madman (madwoman?) of an author! I hope that you are enjoying the fic, and thank you for all of your support! Many thanks as always to my wonderful and lovely alpha, debjunk. :)

Chapter 3 Part 1

Severus looked helplessly at the pile of boxes blocking his bookshelves—their bookshelves—as if the stack of tomes held the answer.

"I'm just saying that there's a way to compromise," Hermione was repeating.

She was starting to sound a little shrill. Her hair was frizzing in the damp of the dungeons, and she was gesturing towards the bedroom. The elves had moved her bed into his dungeon chambers, as it was far larger than his had been, but that left little room for other furniture.

"Look—We can shrink your bedside tables down by a few inches and they'll fit between the bed and the wall."

"That still doesn't solve the problem that there is only room for one wardrobe and two of us."

Severus waved a hand to encompass the scope of what he meant even as Hermione proceeded to change the size of his tables and slide them into place. At least he would still have a surface on which to rest his book and reading glasses.

"We've been sharing one wardrobe so far," she said. "And we have the storage room."

"It's too cold and damp in there, it's not suitable for use as a closet," Severus said immediately.

"I'm not asking to use it as a closet, you impossible man!" Hermione exploded.

His eyebrows rose, and she closed her eyes, obviously counting to ten.

"Look. Severus. We'll expand the wardrobe's interior with magic. That will give us enough space for each of us to store season-appropriate clothing. We can pack up the rest of our clothing and put them in the storage room, then switch them out when the weather changes."

Severus stared at the narrow storage room door for a long moment. He hated change. Living out of a shared wardrobe with Hermione had been fine before, as it was temporary. But this was long term, and the foundation of the castle and layout of his rooms had made it impossible for the elves to expand the bedroom itself. So, unless they wanted to use the sitting room as the bedroom and subsequently lose all of the bookshelf space, they had no choice but to make it work.

"I suppose that will have to be sufficient," Severus managed finally.

Hermione's shoulders relaxed and she smiled.

"See? We can manage this."

A swish, and some boxes of her clothes went sailing into the storage room. "You'll just need to pare down your clothing. Just don't bury the boxes too far back in the closet," she added in a bossy tone.

For just a brief moment, Severus wondered if it wasn't too much of a change all at once. He was in imminent danger of snapping at his wife a mere month into marriage, with start of term only weeks away.

Hermione watched Severus constantly out of the corner of her eye. In all honesty, she was surprised that he hadn't bitten her head off yet. She had been trying not to yell all day, herself. It was so frustrating. She hated moving, and for some reason had thought that moving from her chambers to his was going to be a much smoother transition than it was.

Packing her beloved books into boxes had been difficult, but Severus had been very helpful about it, handling each tome with care and meticulously labeling the full boxes. That bode well for them, she thought, because if he had so much as dinged a corner she would have been terribly unhappy. Like when Ron had borrowed a paperback...and then left it shoved in his pocket for three months while he read it. She had been more than horrified when he had returned it: she had been so upset that she hadn't even been able to hex him six ways until Sunday or given him a lecture.

Considering the space in the oddly-shaped bedroom, Hermione pushed past Severus, who was looking slightly murderous from her orders, and headed towards the fireplace. She selected a few logs and carried them back into the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an irritable tone.

"Making more space," she replied.

Hermione lay out the logs on the plush grey rug that extended past the bedding then cast a few spells. One for measurement, the other for ensuring strength...and finally, she Transfigured the lot into a series of small drawers. "There we go!"

"Well aren't you chipper," Severus said. His voice was muffled, as he was digging through the wardrobe and not paying attention to her rather clever idea. "What have you done?"

"I made drawers for under the bed. It should give us a little more space, at least for nightclothes or underthings." Hermione slid each of the new drawers into place under the bed and surveyed her handiwork. "Or whatever, I suppose. Towels, maybe. I think I'll use one for my bras."

Severus started and knocked his head on the top of the wardrobe. He emerged, scowling and holding the injured area with his free hand.

"Warn a man, if you would."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "What? Does it bother you that I said 'bras'?"

He didn't answer, instead he stiffly carried his winter robes to one of her discarded boxes.

"Severus?"

He dropped the lot in a box.

"Pack," he commanded, gesturing forcefully with his wand.

They obeyed his order, folding themselves and lying neatly. The lid thwapped shut.

"It's not something I am used to discussing."

Considering that, Hermione retrieved her box of undergarments. "We haven't really talked about it, have we?"

"Not particularly interested in doing so now, either," he said rather pointedly.

She huffed. "Maybe we should, if it's going to make you uncomfortable. I know you've been very accommodating when it comes to my period, but this is a marriage, and we are supposed to be able to live together. I don't want to make things impossible for you."

With another sigh, Severus met her gaze. "It is simply not a topic I am used to. I will adjust. Keep in mind, Hermione, that I was brewing while you were packing, and it's not something you have spoken of until now. My last cohabitation with a woman was my mother."

"Are you sure? I know I'm being rather bossy and that moving in together isn't particularly easy to begin with, and you are rather private. I'm sort of barging in, and it's easier on me because I've lived with people before."

"As I knew it would be for you. I am trying to keep my temper at the moment. I assume that we will both adjust to sharing quarters for more than a few months in due time. If something truly bothers me, you will be made aware."

"So formal," she said, trying to put a bit of teasing into her voice.

Severus just glared at her.

"If your fears have been assuaged, I would prefer if we finished settling you in before dinner."

"Oh yes," Hermione said bitterly. "I still don't know why you let Minerva turn the welcome-back-staff dinner into a congratulations dinner."

"Because there is only so much I can fight her for, and I need her to approve a few things for the NEWT classes," Severus said grimly. "No matter what I said, she would press on. Like most of your shared House, she feels the need to turn all sorts of occasions into parties. We will simply have to make an excuse to depart, preferably one they cannot turn into some 'newlyweds going off alone together' mockery, if you would. There will be enough speculation as it is. I know that you don't particularly like being the center of attention: neither of us do."

Hermione nodded. She absolutely hated being in the limelight. Being toasted by the returning staff was not exactly what she wanted to do tonight. She wanted to curl up on the sofa in their chambers with a book and relax and would be willing to bet half the Galleons in her vault that Severus felt the same.

"Are these winter robes?" Severus asked, indicating two boxes.

Hermione craned her neck to see. "Yes." She hesitated, watching him lift them and carry them to the storage room. "Severus? How do you feel about photos on the wall?"

Severus stood nervously in his—their—sitting room, surveying Hermione's handiwork. She had kept the photos of Potter to a minimum, thank Merlin for that. It was an understated change to his mantle, the framed photos in between what he had already there. There was a smiling, waving image of Hermione and her friends next to the little pewter cauldron Lily had given him when he was twelve, and a trio of still pictures of Hermione and her family at various locales on the continent next to his Mastery certificate. She had tucked in a silver-gilt frame with a photo of her old cat next to Severus's favourite picture of him and his mum when he had been about six. He actually liked the small decorative items she had placed along the mantle, which were familiar from her old chambers.

Cautiously, he reached forward and touched the two new frames in the center of the mantle. He had accepted the chapel's offer of photos from the wedding: if nothing else, it lent credibility to their marriage.

They had been forwarded by owl post last week, and he...rather liked the two she had opted to display. He couldn't say why. Perhaps it was the dark brown wood frames she had used, or maybe it was the images themselves. They didn't move, standing still and frozen in time. In the first, they were signing the register, Hermione looking up at him. The way her hair fell masked that her smile was nervous, and he had been bending to reassure her in quiet tones, not to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. The second image showed the two of them facing each other in the chapel. Severus was holding her hands in his, and the obey bit of the vows had made him snort, then her giggle. The photographer had captured the moment of her smile and even managed to catch him smiling.

If Severus hadn't known better, the photos were of two people who truly loved each other.

"Sorry," Hermione said, hurrying out of the bedroom.

Her hair was still damp, and she was poking earrings into her lobes. He stepped quickly back from the mantle, his robes swirling around his ankles.

"I didn't mean to take so long. I buried my conditioner in a box and didn't remember which one."

"Such things happen." Merlin, could he sound any stiffer?

She grinned, reaching past him for the deep blue robes on the back of the sofa, shoving her arms into it.

"You sound chipper. You'd think the Hall was going to be filled with Dementors."

"Dementors would be easier to manage than colleagues." A hint of amusement coloured his voice. He turned to her, hesitating, his hands clasped behind his back. "We do have a question to head off, however."

"Did we miss one?"

Severus's fingers twisted together. "Pomona and possibly Filius will ask why no rings. Pomona is sentimental about that sort of thing, and Filius is always keenly aware of jewelry."

Hermione frowned. "I thought we had covered that? You work with potions. It would be potentially hazardous for you."

"I meant..." His chin lifted, the harsh lines of his face making his expression appear remote. "I would like you to have this, while we are together."

He raised his arm, fist clenched. When she extended a curious hand, he dropped the delicate chain into her palm. Hermione lifted it and looked at the small silver band, slightly tarnished and set with a small pale purple stone, threaded on chain.

"It was my mum's," he said quietly. "She sold off her jewelry, piece by piece, to keep food on the table. Except this. It was the first ring her parents gave her, and can't be resized any larger. It's meant for a child."

Smiling, Hermione undid the clasp and put the necklace on.

"Severus...thank you."

She moved to embrace him, and he let her, feeling strangely vulnerable in her arms.

"It's lovely, and I promise to take good care of it. Should we not work out, I'll give it back, I swear."

When she stepped away, he noticed that she was blinking rapidly.

"You know, Severus, we think a bit alike. I, erm, I have a present for you, too, see. It's not as good as yours, but I came across the idea when packing and I just...I thought you might like them." Hermione dug into her trouser pocket and placed something in his hand.

Severus looked down at the tiny copper cufflinks. They were scratched faintly, and he looked closer. Runes.

"You don't have to wear them," she said softly. "But you gave me a present, my book, and, well. I made them. They shouldn't interfere with your potions. I know they're not much, nothing like the book you bought me..."

"They are unexpected, but not unwelcome."

When was the last time someone had made him a present? Specifically for him, with thought given to its creation beyond 'oh, and Snape too'? He feathered a thumb over the runes. Protection magic. For what, he didn't know, but it felt powerful.

"Thank you."

"So," Hermione said brightly. "Shall we go off to dinner and to the scrutiny and merry-making of our colleagues?"

Severus snorted, tucking the cufflinks into his pockets. He didn't have time to change shirts in order to sport them.

"As long as you can refrain from humming a funeral march as we walk down the corridors."

Her eyes sparkled. "Well, there went my plans for making the evening bearable."

The staff lounge was set for dinner, and Severus was chagrined to see that the others had already arrived. Minerva, damn her, must have told the rest to be early. Severus did very much enjoy making an entrance, yes, but on his bloody terms. Not being ambushed by well-intentioned dunderheads with more good cheer than sense.

He would be picking the damned glittering confetti out of his hair and off his robes for weeks.

Hermione was just as pleased as he was, judging by the expression on her face as Longbottom's wife and girlfriend pulled her into their embraces and examined her hands. Severus was relieved when Hermione pulled out her necklace and the women promptly swooned.

Feeling more than a little smug that his intuition in providing her with his mother's ring had done its job, Severus accepted the glass of wine from Minerva.

"Congratulations, Severus," she said, somewhat thickly.

He was unsure if she was emotional or had been imbibing too much Firewhisky this evening. Probably both.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

He took a small sip of wine, cradling the glass against his chest.

"I wanted to...apologise. For my reaction."

"Hermione was concerned you had somehow Transfigured yourself into stone."

Minerva swatted his arm lightly. "You managed to blindside me."

"It's not the first time," Severus said smugly. His hair fell forward to curtain his face.

"That's because you're too sneaky for you own good," she muttered. "But you won't distract me: I truly am sorry. I don't want you thinking I don't approve, after all. The two of you are a good match. I just didn't think you two had progressed that far."

Severus nearly choked on his sip of wine at her waggling eyebrows. He dabbed at his mouth and chin, glaring at the Headmistress. Minerva gave him a little caught-the-canary grin and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"However far we've progressed is between us," he hissed between clenched teeth.

Merlin, was that all anyone could think about? Their supposed sex life?

"And I will thank you to keep those speculations strictly to yourself, Minerva."

"I really do love the ring," Luna gushed. "The one from Rolf is really very lovely, but not as sentimental. I still adore it, of course..."

"I can't believe Snape did something so romantic!" Hannah sighed, cooing over the necklace. "When Neville proposed, he had grown this wonderful little rose garden, it was so very sweet...I never would have expected such things from Snape, of course. How did he propose?"

Hermione blushed, looking back at Severus, who was speaking with Minerva. Poor man, he looked disgruntled, and she could well imagine what the Scotswoman was interrogating him about.

"Oh, er, he didn't. I did."

"Really? How unusual," said Neville kindly, joining them. He bussed both Hannah and Luna affectionately on the cheek.

"Congratulations, though, Hermione. Are you going by Snape as well?"

"I'd like to go by Granger-Snape," she replied with a faint smile. "And just Granger with the students. No need to confuse them. We're hoping to avoid a lot of fanfare."

"I don't blame you." Neville grimaced. "Whenever we go out, it's madness. Heroes and all that, I guess. The press takes a field day and can't seem to understand that Luna is married and dating me and that both Rolf and Hannah know and are alright with it."

Hannah nodded. "You wouldn't believe how nosy some of the patrons down at the Leaky get, Hermione."

"It doesn't seem to bother Rolf any," Luna added dreamily. "But then, the magical creatures we study aren't really known for their discourse. Well, except for a few species."

"I really am happy for you two," Neville said quietly before Luna could mention some likely-imaginary thing that spoke in limericks or got songs stuck in your head or something that would make Hermione roll her eyes. "You've been really close, so it's nice to see you taking it further."

She didn't have an answer for that, and she flushed crimson as Hannah asked when they could expect the billowing patter of little Snapeling feet.

"Not for a while yet," Hermione said. "First we have to learn to live as a couple, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Hannah said cheerfully. "Moving in with Neville was a huge adjustment. Our first week, he..."

Hermione kicked her shoes off at the bedroom's threshold and nearly threw herself onto the bed.

"Finally!"

"I'd have to concur with that assessment," Severus said in an amused tone.

He tugged his cravat free before undoing the buttons. "I was worried it was never going to end."

"Me too," she replied with a groan, rolling over to her back. "Ugh. I don't think I've ever heard Minerva sing before."

Severus grimaced. "Let us hope you will not have to again. She does not usually imbibe so heavily. However, she does get a bit emotional over weddings."

"Understandable, I suppose," Hermione said. "I always get teary at other people's weddings, myself. Usually the vows. I'm actually pretty relieved that I didn't cry at ours. I don't look pretty when I cry."

"No one does," he said. "I have seen hundreds of crying children—and parents—over the years. No one looks even remotely attractive covered in tears with a runny nose."

She laughed. "I'll try to keep that in mind in the future."

Hermione sat up and started to struggle out of her robes.

"I'm exhausted. Are you coming to bed early, too, or staying up to read?"

He removed his frock coat and hung it neatly in its place in the wardrobe, then did the same for her robes.

"Bed for me as well, I think."

What was he supposed to say? That he preferred going to bed at the same hour so he could enjoy her nearness and warmth?

They set about their evening ablutions, taking turns brushing their teeth while the other changed. Severus rather liked the quiet domestic rhythm they'd acquired. For all of the stress of moving her in, they seemed to rub along fairly well.

"Did you Nox the candles?" Hermione asked, exiting the bathroom. Her hair was down to his relief, and her polished toes dug into the warmth of the rug.

"I will when we're both ready," Severus replied. "With the changes to the rooms, I'd rather not try to fix broken toes."

"With our luck, they'd assume it was a sex injury," Hermione said sourly. "I'm getting very tired of the speculating and questions. I can't wait for it all to blow over and for us to become old news."

"Agreed," he said dryly.

They pulled the covers up, and Severus waved a hand to extinguish the lights. They lay in the darkness for a while, quiet.

"Hannah's pregnant," Hermione said suddenly.

"And you know this how?"

Severus's tone was slightly disgruntled, but he rolled over in the dark to face her. She did the same with a creak and a rustle of sheets.

"Because she was really nosy about us and potential children. Overmuch compared to the rest." Hermione yawned. "And she had pumpkin juice. Hannah absolutely loves wine. Not in an over-indulgent way, she just usually has a glass or two at parties."

"I will have to trust your intuition on that, I suppose." Severus sighed. "I shall have to retire in the next ten years or so. I cannot rely on Abbott genes to surpass the Longbottom proclivity to destroy my classroom."

Hermione giggled, yawning again. "Sorry. That's an empty threat and you know it. I'm still surprised how much you enjoy teaching."

Severus didn't answer, and she fell asleep instead of requiring a reply.

He woke up in the morning with her once again wrapped around him.

The start of term came and went. No one seemed to have caught on yet that two of their professors were married, to their mutual relief. The Prophet hadn't caught wind of it yet, either. They just hoped that when the news did come to light that there wasn't a great deal of backlash.

It took another two weeks for them to have their first argument, slammed doors and all. Severus had found himself more frustrated by the fact that she had slammed the office door, leaving herself inside...with the essays he had to grade for tomorrow. And of course, the fact that her parting shot had been to splutter and call him a "big-nosed grouch," which had hurt much more than he had expected.

It was also surprisingly juvenile.

Annoyed—and unable to recall what, precisely, had set off the bloody fight in the first place, and despite being well aware he had been spoiling for one for weeks—Severus had left their quarters with a resounding bang. He stalked the castle halls, happily taking points off of various students for their infractions.

When he had returned to their rooms, he hadn't bothered to knock on the office door, and had summoned an elf to bring him his grading.

It wasn't until dinner that he had ceased actively glaring at everyone and had settled into seething. But then...his eyes inadvertently met hers. Force of habit had him brushing his mind over hers—a trick he used in all of his classes to prevent explosions and the like—and was surprised to find not anger, but hurt and sadness.

That took him aback, and he slouched a bit in his seat, eating mechanically.

Why the devil was she upset?

So they had fought. He wasn't the one who had resorted to name-calling.

It wasn't his fault that she left her socks under her desk. Or that her hair clogged the drain, and she left the wet wad of it in the rubbish bin rather than Vanishing it. And it wasn't his fault that she hummed off-key when she graded. She scraped her teeth against her fork when she ate. She put her cold toes on his legs at night, and kept moving his piles around so he couldn't find things.

...Perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up quite so forcefully. Or at length.

Discomfited, Severus continued eating, probing his memory of the fight. What he uncovered now that he was no longer angry and spoiling for a fight made his gut twist with guilt.

Damn it.

Hermione lay on her side of the bed in the dark, eyes closed. It was so hard to sleep without Severus there. How quickly she had gotten used to having his warm weight in the bed with her. She sighed softly.

After their fight, she had been hoping to apologise, but he had proven incredibly elusive. It was probably on purpose, knowing him.

She felt horrible. She'd noticed that his temper was shorter than usual lately, but between her own grading and classes, she hadn't really worked on checking in with him and making sure he was okay. Which, she figured, was a bit rude of her considering that he had accepted her ridiculous proposal and made room for her in his rooms and life and had generally had to deal with a lot more upset than she.

The bedroom door opened, and she willed herself not to roll over and jinx it.

She listened to the soft sound of his clothing dropping to the floor: the click of buttons on stone, the metallic clink of his belt. The bed sagged with his weight, the covers lifting and falling as Severus's lean form joined her.

In bed.

Not the sofa.

In their bed.

Severus shifted in the bed, and then, slowly, his arm stole around her waist. Hermione held her breath as he curled around her.

"I am...sorry," he murmured quietly, with all of the insecurity of a man whose apologies have oft gone unheeded.

"I'm sorry, too," Hermione whispered. "I forgive you," she added hastily, and felt him relax. "It means a lot that you apologised. Next time, can you talk to me instead of picking a fight?"

Her therapist would be so proud of her for that one, Hermione thought.

His breath gusted over her ear, minty-fresh, in a heavy sigh. "I will attempt to do so."

"Thank you. I'm sorry for calling you names."

There was an awkward pause. "I suppose that this is where I forgive you."

"Usually, yes."

"Then I do. But please refrain from it in the future, or at least the juvenile ones."

Hermione winced into the darkness, and lifted the hand from her waist to kiss it.

"Thank you." She was quiet for a long moment. "Well. Our first fight as a couple. I think we've survived it, don't you?"

Severus was silent, but she took the brush of his lips over her shoulder as a sign that things were all right.

"So, tell me how that went," Healer Coles said carefully.

Severus scrutinized her, but didn't see any sign that she was overly surprised that he was volunteering information about his and Hermione's spat...and that he had willingly asked for an appointment.

"Badly, at first," he said finally.

He hated her office. Too quiet. He was used to the crackle of his fire, the hum of Hogwarts's wards, to the scratching of Hermione's quill and her muttering as she graded, or her humming, or the clink of china as she took tea with her reading.

"I apologised. As did she."

Healer Coles blinked.

Severus scowled.

"Well done. That must not have been easy for you."

"No," he replied curtly.

It really hadn't. The mere thought of saying the words had brought painful memories of spiteful green eyes and twinkling blue ones that said no amount of words or conviction would ever be enough for forgiveness.

"And she forgave me."

"Ah." Healer Coles leaned back in her chair. "And that surprised you?"

"Yes," Severus whispered, feeling very vulnerable in that moment. "It did."

That twinge in his chest was back, and he examined the feeling for the first time.

Oh, fuck.

When had his fondness and respect for his friend and wife swelled into love?

It was two days before the Christmas break when the Prophet finally caught wind of their elopement. MARRIED PROFESSORS: ROMANCE OR SCANDAL?

Thus read the overly-bold headline. Hermione grimaced and passed her smirking husband two Galleons under the staff table before pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"And to think, you thought it wouldn't be until spring," Severus said, pocketing the gold.

He sneered as he flipped to the pertinent page, skimming the article and its claims.

"And of course, Skeeter wrote it."

"'This reporter interviewed several witnesses from the wedding day, and by all accounts, the two were deeply in love at the time of their surprise elopement, influenced no doubt by the upbringing of Professor Hermione Granger—or is she Hermione Snape now?—but this reporter has to wonder if those emotions were acted or perhaps even potion-created?'" Minerva read aloud in a mocking tone.

She tossed her paper down with a snort of disgust, and also handed Severus a few coins. Hermione smothered a giggle.

"Merlin save us when the students come down for breakfast," Minerva said, her brogue thick with annoyance.

Pomona laughed. "Most of them don't read the paper, Min."

"They should read this article at least," said Rolanda with a cackle. "Listen: 'When asked if Professor Snape—'former' Death Eater and spy—had potentially used a love potion on Golden Trio Member Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, laughed in this intrepid reporter's face before hurrying off to serve as an Auror. Was his laughter indicative of a long-standing relationship between the two Professors, or perhaps he meant to imply that it was Granger's use of potions? This publication has linked her in the past to Quidditch stars and the Chosen One himself. Perhaps she likes the heroes.'"

"Skeeter does enjoy hearing herself talk," Severus sniped. "Oh, Minerva, you declined to comment. How dreadful of you."

Poppy giggle-snorted into her tea, setting them all off.

"You know, some of the older students read the Prophet," Hermione said once they were done laughing, "and news travels fast. Especially juicy gossip, like two of their professors being married to each other."

The Headmistress pursed her lips in disapproval, and Hermione reached over Severus to pat her hand.

"We knew this was coming."

Minerva sighed and took a sip of coffee. "At least one House won't be too surprised, I suppose?"

Hermione nodded. "They've been surprisingly circumspect, actually, if they do know. I know that our only real outing as a couple since the wedding was Draco Malfoy's wedding, but I had thought the word would have spread by now."

Minerva frowned at that, but Severus didn't give her a chance to follow whatever her next trail of thought was.

"I doubt their parents even told them," Severus said, passing her a pot of her preferred jam before taking the butter for himself and slathering a generous helping onto his perfectly-browned toast. "Are we going to make some sort of announcement or continue as usual?"

Filius grinned at him. "Business as usual, I say. Drives them all nutters."

Rolanda nodded in agreement as the swell of conversation began to echo into the hall with the first trickle of students coming in for breakfast. Hermione shrugged.

"You know I'll follow your lead."

There was a decidedly wicked curve to his lips, she thought, as he took a rather vicious bite of toast.

She smiled. He was so funny sometimes, even if he didn't think so. And clever. She was so very glad they were friends, and happier still that she'd married him... Hermione's smile faltered briefly.

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no no no. I love him. As in, in love. Shite.

It was with great relief that Hermione watched her last class leave. She shoved her hair back out of her face, frazzled. Two days of scrutiny and barrages of questions had left her nerves all but shredded. She had assigned no less than sixty-two papers out of spite, since detention wasn't really an option right before hols, not that Severus shared her opinion on that. She hadn't seen him except at meals and very briefly in the morning.

To be fair, she also hadn't made an effort. She was too discomfited by her revelation at breakfast the other day to do more than buss him on the cheek, no matter that she found herself cuddling with him every morning.

She had no idea how to deal with the fact that she loved him. Who was she going to talk to about it? Everyone was of the opinion that they had gotten married because they were in love. Her teeth worried at her lower lip.

At least it was the truth now.

Stacking up her papers, Hermione tried to look at it objectively.

So she loved Severus Snape. What of it? What was the worst that could happen?

That he doesn't love me and ridicules me, she thought miserably.

But would Severus actually ridicule her? She doubted it.

He was better since the war: far better. They were friends. Good friends. Best friends, if she really had to categorise it further. It wasn't that she didn't still care deeply for Harry and Ron, but Severus... well, she had something more with him, even before the marriage law was mentioned.

Severus was the first person she spoke to in the morning. He was the one she wanted to talk to when she had a terrible day. He was the one who provided her with comfort and assistance and humour and… oh, god, how long had she been in love with him and hadn't realised it?

Hermione navigated the halls as carefully as she could, her mind racing. She ignored the murmurs and whispers, but took points off as necessary, her body on auto-pilot.

It had been so much easier to recognise love with Ron and the others. But then, sex had been involved, hadn't it? It was so easy for her to equate sex and love and then to put the pieces together. But with Severus, the feelings, the emotions, felt so fragile and new and different that she hadn't known how to piece them together for so long.

But now that she had, everything made sense.

Why Severus. Why she'd proposed. Why everything.

Everything made sense.

Severus made sense.

She loved him. She loved him, she loved him, she loved him.

But how to tell him?