Footsteps in the other room made Hermione's head jerk up in the direction of the door. She knew it was silly, but it felt like an intrusion sitting in her husband-professor's chair. He had left her to tend to his brewing with the single instruction that she should unpack without disturbing his belongings. But he had yet to reenter the bedroom and she didn't want to disturb his work in the other room. So here she was, sitting in anxious anticipation, trying to read a book for class, despite the fact that classes didn't begin for another three days. She just couldn't concentrate. Her mind kept wandering around the room. First, to the books on the shelves, in stacks on the floor, and strewn across the desks. There were so many and her hands itched to search through them for herself. Next, to the strange clockwork structure that she had decided must represent the motion of the celestial bodies (which was very important in some obscure potions, after all). And then… to the bed. The grimy, rickety, too-small bed. Her Potions Master's bed. This is where he slept. This is where the Bat of the Dungeons, the Greasy Git, the Head of Slytherin House… wow, it was amazing that the Head of Slytherin House slept on such a pathetic little cot. No wonder he was always cranky.

She tried not to repeatedly imagine him bursting through the door and dragging her to said bed to throw her down upon it. After his outburst earlier, she didn't know what to expect. Would Tonks know what to do? She felt pathetic even wondering. Tonks was an Auror. She would arrest the foul git if he tried anything with her. But Hermione was no slouch with a wand, either. And she knew quite a bit about the law. True… she hadn't known that marriage basically diffused the rights of the witch involved… but that was something she'd look into later.

Well. What was the worst that could happen? She would survive, wouldn't she? He wasn't about to kill her. Anything else, she could grit her teeth and bear. She was strong. She was smart. She was a survivor. Of course, they had to have sex, but if he was rough, she could give him what for.

…*~*J*~*…

Severus had already finished the potions for the Hospital Wing and was scrambling anxiously for something to occupy his mind. Ideally, he could have spent the evening working on one of his many unfinished projects (mostly potions he was trying to invent), but he was too distracted to be inspired. There was a bushy-haired know-it-all in his bedroom, and he didn't know what to do about it. Grumbling impatiently, he snatched up his copy of the new Marriage Law and plopped himself down on the stool. There had to be some sort of loophole hidden somewhere, and he was determined to find it. But where? How? He didn't want to face the girl in the other room without a good strong defense. How could he?

Hermione Granger had always been a nuisance. On one hand, she reminded him far too much of Lily. On the other, she was best friends with Potter. Again with the reminding him of Lily. Oh, she'd never been the shining, beautiful star that Lily was. She'd never drawn the stranger's eye and turned grown men into puddles of mush with a smile. But she was bright and strong and compassionate. She loved her studies and she excelled in them-annoyingly well. He truly had despised her in the beginning. Still did. She had the shiny new paint of an unjaded innocent. She had a bright future that she hadn't yet thrown away. In another Universe, he might have had everything it would have taken to be her, but he didn't. He had lost it all to foolish impulse and was now forced to pay the price. Had she just thrown away her future, too? Severus wasn't sure if he wanted to think she had or not.

But she wasn't that gangly, big-haired brat anymore. Somehow, she had managed to acquire the body of a woman. The body of a woman capable of drawing the attention of every… bleeding… wizard at the Ministry earlier that day. Even his most formidable glares couldn't deter the wretched droolers. He resented her for that. What had she done to deserve beauty on top of everything else? Why did she deserve that when he didn't? Of course, that was illogical. He understood that. She hadn't done anything to merit such. But it didn't matter. She was beautiful and he was ugly and she would resent him for that simple fact. She would hate him for touching her. She would never be his to touch.

Not that he wanted to. She was practically a child. She knew nothing of the ways of the world. She still thought she was mature, and in some ways she was, if he were honest with himself. But her experience didn't begin to compare with his. Her understanding of the nature of the world was inherently naïve. She was coming from a perspective with a completely different outlook. They would never see the same side of anything. They were doomed from the start!

And what would she think of him?

Severus drew a hand down his face, flipping the pages of the law for some escape. He kept himself so locked away, so hidden from any prying eyes. How could he open himself up to such ridicule? How could he possibly have sex with her? She would laugh at him! Or pity him. Somehow, she had saddled herself with the Bat of the Dungeons. What intrigue! Wonder what the Greasy Git wears to bed. Wonder what he looks like when he comes. He could just hear her laughing about him to her friends. He was pale. He was skinny. He was not an attractive man. And she was the virgin sacrifice on the altar of his cause. Damn that Albus Dumbledore! Damn the Dark Lord! Damn the Minister of Magic for making all of this happen to him! Damn all of them for turning him on his head again so the world could see up his robe.

He slammed a fist on the table and stood to pace again. There had to be some way around this law.

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione was yawning and eyeing the little bed, weighing the pros and cons of falling asleep before Professor Snape returned. Could he really blame her? It was nearly two in the morning and he hadn't come out of his lab (if that was what that was). Consummated or not, Hermione needed to get some sleep.

There were footsteps again. She had practically learned to ignore the footsteps by now. But this time the door was wrenched open and her husband appeared. It made her heart stop. Her legs were draped over the arm of his chair and she had changed into pajamas hours ago. He glared down at her, still in his robes, hair greasy, bags darkening beneath his eyes. He was very much her Potions Professor, and he was getting ready for bed.

The chit was wearing some sort of thin trousers and a Muggle tee-shirt that was nearly transparently white. For all that it appeared to be virginal, he could see the pointed tips of her breasts. She quickly swung her legs down from the arm of his chair and his eyes caught a sliver of midriff before the shirt slid down again. His cock twitched. "Making yourself at home?" he growled, releasing his anger onto her. He was furious with himself for even considering how soft she looked.

The girl only sputtered. She seemed torn between apologizing and arguing with him. He pushed past her and made his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself with a satisfying thump. Resting his hands on the countertop, he sighed heavily and began to run the sink.

What on earth to wear to bed? The girl was wearing some sort of cotton that looked designed to feel as absolutely delicious as possible, but he refused to think about that. Would she feel good held against his body? Objectively, yes. But she was his student. She was 18 years old. She was friends with bloody Potter. Ah yes, if anything could cool down an inflating erection, it was Potter. Why was he thinking about these things? Why was he noticing now what he had never deigned to notice before? Was it just the proximity? The fact that he would have to have sex with her? His cock jumped in answer to the question. Severus groaned. Bloody hell. He was actually looking forward to it.

Sweeping out of the bathroom, Severus threw open his wardrobe. Colors of every hue and shade assaulted his eyes. Merlin's balls. She had thoroughly taken over his armoire. Pushing her belongings to the side, he searched his options. Usually, he wore nothing to bed. Why should he? It was much more efficient to simply remove his clothes or sleep in them. And they were dreadfully uncomfortable. He considered the old nightshirt at the very back. He hadn't worn that in eons, but it wouldn't do either. More than anything else, it was much too readily suited for mockery. With no other option, he ripped out a pair of old trousers and a shirt and stalked back into the bathroom.

Hermione was amazed by her professor's ability to stay angry for an indefinite period of time. He'd been in the other room for hours, but he was still fuming like a cauldron. She traced the edges of the book on her lap, wondering what he was doing and how she could possibly calm him down.

Severus made a few adjustments to his trousers so that they were more comfortable before considering the shirt. To wear it or not to wear it? It really was overkill, even in the winter in the dungeons. Fighting poor blood circulation in the coldest part of the castle, Severus had long ago charmed the blankets of his bed to keep him warm. The extra layer of a linen shirt would probably leave him hot and uncomfortable.

On the other hand, his bare chest was hardly something to write home about. He had a bit of muscle tone in his arms, but not much. The rest of him could best be described as wiry. And pale. With thin, black hairs that weren't thick enough to be what women seemed to consider sexy. Nothing about him was sexy. Or impressive. But why the hell should he care what she thought? She was just a little slip of a girl who knew nothing of the world. She was just a bookworm and a loudmouth and an annoying little nuisance. Who was she to make him cover himself up and hide away? Who was she to make him feel insecure? He was a grown wizard, damn it. He would wear what he wanted to bed.

Hermione jumped when her professor finally emerged from the bathroom. He had exchanged the billowing robes for black trousers and a white shirt buttoned nearly up to his neck. He looked peeved and uncomfortable. Stalking past her, he stared down at the bed. She was relieved when he withdrew his wand to enlarge the sad, pathetic thing. Even when he was done, it still wasn't quite luxuriously large, and it made the room feel even more cramped than before. Hermione suppressed a sigh. At least for a little while, it would just have to do.

"Well," her Potions Master grumbled, "if you ever plan to get some sleep tonight, I would rather you took the side against the wall." She blinked up at him. "Merlin knows how late you stay in bed," he continued, "and I loathe the thought of climbing over you."

More than feeling offended, Hermione was confused. Why did it matter which side she was on right now? Wouldn't he more or less be on top of her? At that thought, a jumble of nerves hit her like a punch to the stomach. Concentrating on breathing, she decided not to question the man. Perhaps it would be better if she just followed along.

He watched the chit climb onto his bed and suppressed another surge of unexpected arousal. He had noticed in her wedding dress, and he was noticing again, that Hermione Granger had the most perfectly round, pert little arse. She probably expected him to consummate the marriage tonight. Right now. The thought nearly made him groan aloud. As the law was written, technically they had a week to get it done, but she didn't know that yet. He could climb on top of her right now, if he wanted to and… No no no! Stop it, you fool. Stop thinking these things! She's your student. Stu-dent. 18. Potter's friend. Ah yes, that did it.

Hermione situated herself on her side of the bed, right up against the dungeon wall. When she glanced back at her professor, he was glaring down at her. Had she done something wrong? Her stomach twisted nervously. Maybe he was just really dreading what he was about to have to do. But Snape only slipped under the covers on his side of the bed and turned away from her, waving his empty hand to extinguish the candles lit all around the room. The fire hummed and spit into the silence, warming the freezing dungeon room. Hermione was stiff as a board, lying on her back, unsure what to do. I guess he's not going to do anything, she thought. But, of course, she had to ask.

"Professor?" she whispered.

"What, Granger?"

"Don't we… I thought we had to…"

"No." It was his only answer.

She wanted to leave it at that. She really did. Only, so many questions were flying through her mind, and he was the only one who could answer them. And he was right there. "So…" she began again, "but we do have to eventually…"

Professor Snape sighed into the silence. She could tell he was put out, but she couldn't help herself. "The Law only specifies 'once a week,'" he said.

"Oh." She was feeling pretty foolish, now, staring up at his clockwork Solar System like a baby in a crib. She was literally trapped against the dungeon wall by the Potions Master. How on earth was a Gryffindor to sleep? The phrase 'between a rock and a hard place' sprang to mind. "So…" she began again, another question on the tip of her tongue.

"Go to sleep, Granger," her professor growled.

He wished the girl would learn to hold her tongue. How the hell was he supposed to get to sleep? It almost made him eager for the nightmares that he knew were soon to come. The thought made him freeze. How would Granger react if he woke up screaming with her in the bed? What if he thrashed in his sleep? Bloody hell. He hadn't even considered the ramifications of having another person in his bed. Clearly, there was only one thing he could do. Withdrawing one hand from under the coverlet, Severus Summoned a bottle of Dreamless Sleep and uncorked it. Here's to my marriage bed, he thought dryly, raising the potion like a toast to his own future before downing the damn thing.

Hermione was afraid to look at her professor; afraid that he would sense the subtle gesture and know that she was staring. And her breathing. Her breathing was too loud in the quiet bedroom. Was he bothered by it? Would he tell her to stop? The thought nearly made her snort aloud, but luckily she stopped herself. Then the thought of what he would say to her laughing caused another chuckle to rise up in her throat. Really, the whole situation was hilarious. She was practically having a sleepover with the Head of Slytherin House! At that, a snort really did escape her. She clapped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. It was as if the first domino had been struck. Delirious laughter seemed to bubble up inside her. In a panic, she tried to smother it with her palms. Fantastic. What better way to prove her immaturity than by giggling in the Potions Master's bed? Somehow, she doubted anyone had ever done that before. She thought of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They were probably sitting on their hands back at Grimmauld, silently contemplating the horror she was going through. And here she was, crowded into their professor's bed like a neglected teddy bear. The images had her shaking with silent laughter as she pressed her palms against her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes inexplicably as relief and hilarity fell over her in waves.

Without warning, Snape swung around, propping himself up on one arm and leaning over her in anger. "WHAT?" he snapped. At that, she burst out laughing, choking back gales as she tried to muffle them with her hands. She could only shake her head. "Do you want to sleep on the floor, Granger?" he hissed. It only served to make her laughter double. The Head of Slytherin House didn't seem to know what to do.

Severus could feel his face growing warm. It was one thing to acknowledge a humorous situation, and another thing entirely to be that situation. He wanted to hex the impertinent girl or hurt her or lash out in some way that might teach her never to make him feel like this again. But before he had a chance to say something cruel (which was really his only option, as physical punishment was completely out of the question), her laughter subsided enough for her to choke out a few words.

"I'm s-sorry." Hermione had to fight to catch her breath. "It's not that funny, I just…" she felt foolish and relieved at the same time. "Can you imagine… if someone had told us this time last week that we would be here right now?"

"Yes, I believe I can imagine it, as someone did tell me this would happen, and I didn't want to believe it." The Dreamless Sleep was beginning to hit him and Severus fought a wave of panic. Had he known that she was going to do this… well, he wouldn't have downed that bottle.

"I'm sorry," Hermione told the angry man. Her laughter was derailed by the seriousness of his response. Now, she simply felt foolish, staring up at the man who was her husband. He must think me a complete twit. It was hardly the best way to begin their relationship. Relationship. How strange.

"Yes, well, you shouldn't…" her professor yawned, swaying slightly as his eyelids fought to close. "You shouldn't get so… carried away. It's…" Weariness had taken the place of anger in his voice, and he slipped down to rest on his elbow beside her. "It's… bad form." And suddenly, inexplicably, his arm buckled beneath him, his eyes slid closed, his face grew slack, and he was fast asleep against the pillow. For a long moment, Hermione gawked, not comprehending. The realization hit her like a punch to the stomach. There was a bottle on the table by the bed. Had he taken something? Apparently. And now he was out; absent. And yet… present. The always alert spy, sly enough to walk the line between Voldemort and Dumbledore, had cast his defenses aside. She could see him.

It was strange. Hermione had never had the opportunity to study Professor Snape's features. One couldn't look at the paranoid wizard without meeting those inky black eyes. That was a defense of his. As long as he was looking at you, you couldn't see anything but his eyes.

But the moment he closed them, falling down onto the pillow, his lips parting to breath heavily the cold winter air, the rest of his face appeared. The light of the fire deepened the circles beneath his eyes and disappeared in the harsh lines across his forehead and around his mouth. For the first time, Hermione wondered how old her professor was. Her husband. His long black hair spread out beneath him and she was prickled by the question of why he kept it so long? Was it just another veil to hide behind?

Suddenly at ease, Hermione settled onto her side to watch her husband's countenance as she drifted off to sleep. Her last thought echoed into dreams. Who was this silly man who wore a fully-buttoned linen shirt to bed? And would he ever let her know?

…*~*J*~*…

Thank you so much for continuing to follow my story! I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter, but I was at Misti-Con! (which I recommend all of you do in 2017, because it was amazing!)

A special thank you to EveryoneNeedsAnAlpha, sjoyhp, Mel, Isode, snap manic, vaila, Her Royal Goddess, SereniteRose, Taedae, LadyinRed, Blue night fairy, RedPhoenix13, Mikena, just an anon reader, marzipan4, Sassyluv, stexgirl2000, Hannoie, sickleflame, BlueWater5, Hada, amr, giada, writeratheart007, flying berry, Gemini Sister, Broadwayfreak5357, articcat621, SeraphinaAngel, Perry Downing, incoherentlove, viola1701e, Lorna brownie, bookworm661, Karli1252, Fantomette34, RhodaBush, Amarenima Redwood, Viteali Varishta, and several Guests for Reviewing my last chapter. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! I love you guys!

:} llorolalluvia