The afternoon sun flooded their sleepy bedroom with warm light. For the first time, the day off of the Headmaster of Hogwarts did not provide for unforeseen situations, so he could completely devote himself to lazy pastime and pay attention to his own wife.

Hermione leaned back on the pillows and broke into a blissful smile.

"Wow!"

Severus chuckled, rolling onto his back.

"You couldn't say better. If I managed to deprive the glorified Know-it-all speechless, who always has a million questions ready for all occasions, then, apparently, my actions were, indeed, "wow."

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"Do shut up."

The bedroom filled with laughter, which Snape had struggled to contain for the last few minutes. Yes, of course, the notorious male pride spoke in him, and even if so, he simply liked to bring his wife to the completion. There was nothing wrong with that.

Hermione let him laugh, then rolled onto her side and settled comfortably on his chest. She had the experience of sexual relations, but both Ron and Victor Krum could hardly be called empathetic and talented lovers. Weasley just felt insecure most of the time. When they managed to get involved in a failed relationship, he firmly believed that a month or two would pass, and Hermione would become the new Mrs. Weasley with a bunch of children and pies in the oven. Ron was trying to raise his own self-esteem and Hermione's desires did not bother him too much. Life did not live up to his expectations. And Victor acted as if he was trying to curb a particularly obstinate broom. Granger did not consider herself either an obstinate, much less a broom. It was different with Severus.

"You are always very attentive to me," Hermione spoke up after a moment's silence. "You are very tender. Careful, even."

Severus lifted his head.

"Does it bother you? Would you like to add some variety to our intimate life?"

"No, no, Severus. This is not what I am trying to say. I don't even know how to explain it so that you understand me correctly. I have my own taboos, of course, but you don't seem like the kind of person who will persuade me to do something that I don't want. Here, rather, I am amazed in a good way. Both of my partners were eager to show how proud they were of their skills and paid too little attention to me. While you behave completely differently."

Severus rolled onto his side and pondered his wife's words for half a minute.

"Of course, it may seem that the strictest professor at Hogwarts keeps a certain red room in the basement, where he indulges in various kinds of pleasures of the most varied nature. But in fact, it turns out that I do not even want anything of the kind and do not demand it. If you look into my past, you will understand everything."

"Severus, that's not what I meant. I should not have…"

Snape pressed a finger to his wife's lips.

"Hush. I perfectly understand what you are trying to tell me. I assure you I have an explanation. Gloomy by nature, but still the explanation. In my youth, I swore that I would never, under any circumstances, hurt anyone if it was in my power. I believed that I could change something. You see, my father was a desperate alcoholic who hated himself. He tried to move forward as best as he could, but more often than not he kept failing, so he averted his anger into my mother. Everything happened behind closed doors, but Cokeworth boys began to be interested in forbidden topics early, so I roughly imagined what happened in my parents' bedroom when my idiot father reveled in self-pity and hatred. At that time I could do little to help my mother, except that sometimes I shielded her from his blows when Tobias swooped down on her with his fists. And when I became quite adept at magic and in street fights, my father died in some kind of ditch, soon after that my mother followed him. It will seem strange, and this was the fault of the masks that I have worn for so many years, but I have never been a supporter of violence. If I could, I preferred to deal with my opponent verbally. The marauders left me no choice: either endure humiliation or fight. I chose the latter. Then I got older and somehow imperceptibly realized that women did not like well-read and quiet losers. I had to invent new roles for myself. And Lily loomed in front of my eyes, and I saw her falling for Potter because he played Quidditch, was well-built and fabulously rich. The Death Eaters' women behaved the same way."

Hermione sat up in bed, approaching her husband. There were many things she wanted to say to him now, but his story was not yet over. He leaned back and closed his eyes, continuing the monologue.

"You have heard about the entertainment of the people of the Dark Lord, only the lazy or the deaf have not heard about them. I want to say that these rumors have a real basis. This does not mean that we gathered three times a week to kill and rape, nevertheless, the aristocracy had its own moral code, and it was unlikely that well-mannered ladies would fancy the activities in which their husbands were engaged. But there were some things that Voldemort did. Most often as a punishment. Bellatrix had failed too often in those years. Azkaban was beginning to affect her, the famous Black pedigree made itself felt, in a word, she brought bad news to the meetings with regular frequency. And Voldemort didn't like losing and being disappointed. He punished her, honoring his best people."

"In those years, his best people were Lucius Malfoy and you..." Hermione muttered, involuntarily reaching for Snape's hand and pressing it to her heart.

"That's right. Well, yes, I would have killed the damn bitch myself if Molly Weasley hadn't gotten ahead of me, but on the other hand, Bellatrix loved Voldemort. In her own way, perverse and devoted, but she always tried to please him. And he cast Imperius on her over and over... This spell, you know, has a side effect: when the victim experiences violence or excessive pleasure, you see in her eyes that she understands everything, but cannot resist it. After such punishments, Lucius and I got drunk like bastards, Apparated to Muggle London, and wandered those streets until the morning, trying to feel human for at least an hour."

"How did Narcissa react?"

"A lady must keep herself in control," Severus quoted with a grimace. "I remember how she sat in the living room for hours and hours and looked into the extinguished fireplace. Lucius asked for forgiveness. She forgave him because she did not want their love to die like that very flame in the fireplace. There were many of them, these unfortunates whom Voldemort had chosen as his victims. Muggle-borns, half-breeds, ordinary Muggles, guilty wives of the Death Eaters. At times it seemed to me that the only creature that had never experienced the effects of his rage was a snake. You know, during the first war we were driven by different ideas. Someone wanted power, like Lucius. Someone was chasing recognition, like me. Someone sought to preserve traditions, someone hated Muggles. We were different. Everyone was blinded in their own way by Tom Riddle's charisma. During the second war, we sobered. Either this was the merit of the orgies, or, in the end, we truly realized how wrong we had been, but the ranks of Voldemort's loyal followers thinned. This helped me to win many of the former Death Eaters to the side of the Light and the Order of the Phoenix."

"Who would have thought that sexual failure and the urge to intimate relationships can help people change their ideology and broaden their horizons?" Hermione asked thoughtfully. Severus grunted in agreement.

"I have made many mistakes, I will have to repent for too long. But I still managed to adhere to one principle: I always try to devote most of my time to the wishes of my partner. The role of the almighty macho has never been to my liking, and even there I have some taboos, like being bound, beaten, or any other unnatural forms of sex. In addition, you and I are working on an important project, and this can simply harm the child."

Hermione moved closer and cupped her husband's face.

"Severus, I'm not reproaching. On the contrary, I would like to show you your importance, so that you also understand it. Because, it seems to me, that during our lovemaking, you become your real self, that tender version of yourself that you hide from everyone. And that you want to be loved. You have always lacked tenderness, care, need. That is why you are sharing these desires with me now. And I really appreciate your openness in such a delicate matter, really."

"The last thing I expected was that our conversation on a rather controversial topic would end with a session of psychotherapy for me, Dr. Granger."

"Let's end our lesson with a review of what we covered," Hermione cooed, sliding her hand under the covers.

"Wife, you will be the death of me, I swear."

"So what? In this case, we will die happy and contented."