Hi guys! So I realize that I forgot to thank y'all personally for Reviewing chapter 10, so I'm going to go ahead and thank everyone who reviewed chapters 10 and 11. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to reach out to me. I live for the little insights into how my story is affecting you, but even just the little messages to say that you liked it or you hope I continue soon really make my day! So thank you so much to Fantomette34, Ardentlyadmired, FFEShadowfoot, Pirocantha, HopelesslyEmotional, TheEdgeOfTheDeepGreenSea, NeoQBirdie, BarbaraLM, McKenzie Shea, Iornabrownie, kaida171, Sassyluv, Kellydramionefan, RedKitsune2016, DracozSlytherinPrincess, Mel, Haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, FrancineHibiscus, Aisti, Karli1252, Thorn, katarina131, SSS, acqueenb, houstonclay, Calimocho, VividVideoGeek, ZoeyOlivia, Amarenima Redwood, RhodaBush, SlavetoSeverus, Whack-the-beetle, browni'dbrunette, Avarizia, Petite Mule, Onyx Obsidian, SeraphinaAngel, catherinahawkins and several Guests for Reviewing Chapter 10! Thanks so much you guys!

And thank you so much to Veronica Mitchell, ZaniOne, Mel, Lizzarnia5887, Kelly, vickety, potterfangirl21, BarbaraLM, Calimocho, Avarizia, Whack-the-beetle, Sobela, Fantomette34, fireelfmaiden1, Moirai73, NeoQBirdie, Martionmanswife, pgoodrichboggs, Elliania, SlaveToSeverus, QOP, Vaila, TheEdgeOfTheDeepGreenSea, Shola2001, viola1701e, catherinahawkins, Angela, FrancineHibiscus, and several Guests for Reviewing Chapter 11. You guys are awesome! It really means the world to me!

And now, without further adieu, Chapter 12!

…*~*J*~*...

Endless hallways twisted and turned and she was never any closer to her destination. Whispers and laughter followed her everywhere. Endless streams of students passed her by. Whispers. Laughter. She clutched her books to her chest. Whispers. Laughter. Malfoy pointed at her while the Slytherins laughed. Whispers. Laughter. Whispers. Laughter.

Endlessly, she switched between the never-ending hallways and the chilly dungeon bedroom where her limbs ached from lack of sleep and no position was comfortable enough to keep her asleep for long. She twisted and turned beneath the sheets. She twisted and turned down the halls. Pillows and sheets. Pointing classmates. Elbows and knees. Whispers. Laughter.

Until ahead she saw a familiar figure, clothed in black, watching her with deep, dark eyes. And then she was wrapped in his embrace, her arms around his torso, enfolded in his robes. She was safe from the world. And he was so warm. He held her close against him and a fuzzy tightness blossomed in her belly.

Hermione woke with a start, her eyes popping open, her mind fully awake. Her nose was pressed against her husband's skin, where his neck and shoulders met. One arm was draped across his chest and one leg was hooked over one of his own so that the warmth of his thigh radiated through the fabric of their clothes to burn a fire in her core. She ripped away, heat flooding her face. He would have been mortified to wake up with her that way.

Hermione knew even before she cast a Tempus Charm that it was time to get up, but she wanted to lie back down a while longer and savor the delicious dream she'd been having. Indulging for a moment, she watched her sleeping husband's profile, studying the parts of his face she could never focus on when he was awake. Even sleeping, he looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes and his brow was furrowed as if in consternation. Part of her wanted to lean in to him, to comfort him, to push his hair back from his face and press a kiss against his forehead. Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself for developing this weird attachment to the man. Was she completely daft?

…*~*J*~*...

They didn't speak as they readied themselves for the day and they kept their silence all the way to the Great Hall and all the way through breakfast. Yet somehow, the shared silence was more intimate than speaking would have been.

Severus was already regretting his impulse to give Granger detention on Friday, but there were some lessons she needed to learn. At least he wouldn't have to deal with her today. Honestly, he needed a break.

When the post came, he was surprised to find that he had a letter from Lucius. He stuffed it away, careful not to let his wife see, although he wasn't quite sure why. Rather than read the letter straight away, he left breakfast early and read it on his way to his first class. Apparently, Lucius was wanting a potion. Well, he'd have to confer with Albus about that.

"You have tested this new one?"

"Of course."

Albus cocked an eyebrow at his Potions Master, as if to say 'I needn't have asked.' "But it is different from the one you gave Dolohov?"

Severus nodded. "Antonin is a weak, simple man. I gave him a Voluptatem potion, designed to increase pleasure. Highly addictive. He's already desperate for more of it, but I control the supply. Lucius… is a subtler breed."

"Indeed." Albus smirked.

"The potion I have brewed for him, the Satisfecho, increases happiness. Serotonin, as opposed to dopamine. According to my readings, and my own experience with the substance, it increases openness to emotions that are locked away. It gives the user a sort of shield, so that they may examine their emotions without feeling the full force. It is my hope that Lucius will see his own folly and, perhaps eventually, become open to possibilities heretofore… unacknowledged."

Albus nodded. "Of course, you will have to confide in him, to prove your confidence."

"Indeed. I intend to complain about my subservience to you, Headmaster." Severus's lip twitched up on one side. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"Ah, you are still upset with me." The old man gave him a knowing glance at that. "Are you still searching so desperately for a way around the Law?"

"Of course I am. I'm married to a child, Albus. A student of mine."

Albus's eyes grew sad. "The situation is not… ideal, perhaps. But Miss Granger is mature and wise, for her age. She understands that small battles must sometimes be lost if the larger war is to be won. And I think… she is less worried about it than you."

Severus glared at his employer. "Yes. She's your little Gryffindor martyr, isn't she? Of course she's happy to give herself up to the Cause. She probably thinks the worse it is for her, the greater her sacrifice, the better that makes her for putting up with it."

"Now, Severus, you know that isn't true."

"Isn't it?"

"Are you really so afraid to consider the alternative?"

"And what alternative is that?"

"That, contrary to what you are so determined to believe... the girl has a very high opinion of you."

…*~*J*~*...

Hermione's day dragged by in a haze of anxiety and exhaustion. She hadn't slept well the night before, haunted as she had been by anxious dreams. That being so, she had very little patience left today. And no one was making it any easier for her.

To start, Charms with the Slytherins was awful. Malfoy kept Charming pieces of paper to fly over to her with lovely little cartoons illustrating her upcoming detention with her husband. Some of them had her ripping the paper to shreds, her cheeks on fire.

Transfiguration was fine, until McGonagall took her aside after class to let her know that if her husband mistreated her or took advantage of her in any way, the older woman would always be on her side. And it was comforting to know that, but it was also humiliating, not to mention disconcerting. How could this woman, who had known Professor Snape since he was 11 years old, possibly think anything of the sort about him? It wasn't a comforting thought.

The rest of the day flew by in a breeze. She was getting used to the whispers in the hallway and the comments made behind her back. Maybe having experienced this before made it easier to deal with this time around. She just didn't care anymore. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

When she finally made it back to their bedroom and dropped her bookbag full of things onto the desk he had assigned to her, Professor Snape was walking out the door. "I will be back late," he told her in passing, "I am having dinner with a colleague."

"Okay," she heard herself saying, though a prickling suspicion told her it wasn't true.

And then he was gone and she was alone in their quarters. She found her interest drawn to his desk and the papers he had been reading last night. Step by cautious step she approached the messy surface, unsure why she felt guilty for wanting to know.

It turned out to be a series of papers about contractual magic and its workings. Hmmm. She supposed their marital contract must bind them with this sort of magic and perhaps he hoped to find a loophole by studying it. Skimming the top page, Hermione was immediately intrigued and soon she found herself cuddled up in his bed with his papers, learning all about it.

…*~*J*~*...

The Hassan II Mosque was more spectacular than Severus could have imagined. Not that he had spent much time imagining it. Lucius certainly had a flare for choosing the setting.

The potion was beginning to take effect as they meandered among the enormous columns. The golden light of late afternoon filtered through the carved arches all around them to sparkle against the polished inlay of the floors.

Lucius sighed. "A more beautiful place I have never seen," he said. Of course, he had said the same thing about Versailles and the Taj Mahal.

In silence, they stepped out into the evening air, savoring the light, seaside breeze. They had dressed in simple black trousers and long-sleeved Muggle button-down shirts. The weather here was much more agreeable than back home. Home. Under the influence of the potion, the thought of home was safe and warm. Severus shook his head, dislodging the errant thought and turning his attention to the beauty surrounding him.

"It is a shame," Lucius drawled as they walked across the white stone, following the sound of crashing waves, "to have such power, capable of bringing us here anytime we please; the power to chase the perfect season all year long. And yet…" he trailed off, turning away, holding back. He must have realized the potion was taking effect.

"I know," said Severus, hoping to prompt the other man. "Such a waste."

They slipped back into silence as they approached the delicate barrier and looked out over the gentle, perpetual surf. The wind kissed their faces with a soft caress, the air was full of the scent of saltwater, and the sun dipped ever lower in the sky. Severus began to feel that it was a waste to spend this time in anxious scrutiny of his long-time friend. What was anything worth in the world if he could not enjoy this moment?

"I would love to bring Narcissa here," his old friend said, leaning over the ledge to stare out across the sea. "Merlin," he sighed, "this is brilliant. I feel like we're back in our 7th year; a world of possibilities before us."

"It does feel like that," Severus agreed. And he meant it. Standing here, it was easy to believe the war and the tragedy of his past were invented stories. The real truth was this ledge and this friend and this sunset sending golden light across the sky. How did he pass each day without witnessing this majesty? The marvel of the turning of the Earth and the brilliance of the heavens lit with painted fire. He could weep to see its beauty.

The sun dipped inch by inch beneath the horizon and the two men soaked up every second of it, bathed as they were in awe. Only when the last beams of golden light had disappeared from sight, sending a faint orange glow across the horizon, did the men remember they were not alone.

"Sometimes I wonder," Lucius began again, his usual drawl slipping a bit into what sounded like a younger voice, "where would we be now, if…" and then he cut himself off. He remembered where he was and cast his brother a sideways glance.

Severus knew he needed to put his brother at ease. "Indeed," he found himself saying. "Sometimes I wonder where I'd be."

"And where do you think that is?"

He considered for only a moment. Although he couldn't remember ever sitting around and wondering about this, the answer came to him immediately. "I think I might've sold potions. Not… this sort, but… a more useful variety. I certainly wouldn't teach."

Lucius let out a bark of laughter at that. "No, never has been your greatest strength, has it?"

Severus chuckled and it felt good, like something was releasing deep inside him. "And what about you? Where do you think you'd be?"

Lucius leaned his weight against his elbows, considering. "Perhaps I'd build a palace. One as grand as this. Can you imagine? Or travel the world with Narcissa and Draco, chasing the perfect season all year long."

"Well, maybe you can do that someday."

Lucius's lips turned up in a sad, little smile. He turned to study his old friend. "And what about you? When all of this…" he gestured absently, "is said and done… you could set up shop with your new wife." He smirked, lifting one eyebrow as he studied his friend's reaction.

"Gods," Severus groaned, bowing his head over the ledge as anxiety poured into his heart. "Don't remind me of that."

"What? Your wife? I should think you'd be happy. Pretty, young thing like that."

"Yes, young. Too young. She's one of my students, for Merlin's sake."

"You're joking. Do you know what most men would give to have such a pretty, young wife?"

"Yes well, they haven't taught her since she was eleven. Think of it. She's Draco's age. It just isn't right."

"Not right? I was not aware you had such lofty moral standards, Severus."

Severus rolled his eyes. "It isn't the same."

"Don't tell me you aren't attracted to the girl."

"Well of course I'm attracted to her." Severus's eyes went wide at the confession. He had been hesitant to admit it, even to himself. He'd not given the girl a good glance since she'd matured until the day they had to marry. But of course he had noticed that she was not a girl anymore. Of course he had seen every bloody night how her slender frame had filled out in all the right ways.

"Is it that she's a mudblood?" Lucius asked. Severus's head whipped around and he just barely stopped himself from glaring at his old friend. "Because you know, you don't have to procreate with her." Lucius winked at him and Severus thought he might be sick.

"No," he choked out, frightened at the effect the other man's words were having on him. "No, it's not that. It's…" he shook off the emotion and turned his mind back to the subject at hand. Why was it that he was so reluctant to enjoy his nubile bride? "It's that… How can I enjoy myself when she's…" he cut off, embarrassment encroaching on the edges of his consciousness. The truth, he realized, was humiliating.

"When she's what?"

But perhaps that was the sort of vulnerability he needed to show. To win Lucius's trust. "I mean to say…" he continued, shame pooling inside of him, sharper than anything he'd felt in years. "She can hardly be looking forward to this. I-I'm her hated Potions Master. You should hear the sorts of things they say about me…"

"Ah, so you're afraid she doesn't want it? But think of all the things you could teach her; of all the ways you could please her that she'd never expect..."

Severus snorted. "Not likely."

"And why not?"

"Well, I'm hardly going to be… that is, I'm certainly not going out of my way… this is just business. Anything else would be gratuitous and… vulgar. To her, I'm just a lecherous old man."

"Oh, come now, Severus…"

"No, it's true. She…" and the truth hit him like an insight he didn't know he'd been hiding from himself. "She deserves better than me."

Two hours later found the two old friends sipping glasses of dark red Syrah on a Moroccan terrace. As the effects of the potion faded, Lucius ordered more and more wine, by the bottle, to make up for it until it was apparent he couldn't bear the thought of returning to his normal existence. Severus felt little more than guilt for putting his friend in this situation, though a distant part of him knew he should be pleased. This was exactly what he had wanted. Wasn't it?

It was a little before midnight when the two men realized they couldn't delay the inevitable forever. Severus had school in the morning and Lucius had the Dark Lord's suspicions to contend with. In all honesty, they were not in fit shape to Apparate that far, but they didn't let that stop them. And soon Severus was stumbling through the door to his own quarters, the warmth of serotonin a blur buried beneath the buzz of alcohol pulsing in his veins.

Hermione startled. She had been so absorbed by the material that she'd lost track of time. "Professor," she gasped, looking up to where he towered over the bed, "I'm so sorry. I was just curious and I couldn't help but see…"

Severus snorted. "Of course you were," he said plopping down onto the side of the bed and reaching down to try to pull his heavy Dragonhide boots off his feet. It shouldn't come as a surprise that the girl had been sticking her nose in his business. In fact, it made a funny sort of sense that he, the accomplished spy, would be locked into a marriage with the nosiest woman he'd ever met. Girl. The nosiest girl.

Hermione watched her professor struggle with his laces. Even from her vantage point behind the man, it was obvious that he was heavily intoxicated. He could hardly seem to get his boots off his feet. And then, without warning, he was pulling off the button-down shirt he'd been wearing to expose the pale surface of his naked back. Her eyes went wide. Somehow, she'd never considered that he might have scars etching swollen red lines across his flesh. There weren't many, but they stood out in sharp relief against the pallor of his skin.

And then he was standing and turning to face her, putting one hand against the wall to hold himself up. Heat flooded her face. Surely, he didn't mean for her to see him like this. But she couldn't look away. His slender torso was spattered with fine, black hair. It trailed in a line from the sprinkling that covered his chest, down across the faintly curved surface of his belly, around the nub of his navel, to disappear in a tapering patch beneath the hem of his thick, black trousers. Which he was beginning to unbutton.

"Oh, no no no!" she sputtered, leaping up onto her knees and reaching for his wrist to stop him before he unbuttoned too far. Inadvertently, she got an eye-full of the thick, black curls his trousers had been hiding. But thankfully, that was all. "You'll probably want to keep those on," she told him in a consoling voice.

"Uggghhh," he groaned, collapsing onto the bed and stretching out onto his back. If his trousers had been open any further, they probably would have slid right off just now. "Damn uncomfortable trousers," he moaned, fingering the hem. His eyes were red and half-lidded. She didn't trust him not to pull his trousers off.

"That's okay!" Hermione squeaked, "that's okay. We'll fix it." She leapt out of bed, heading over to the trunk where she had stored the clothes not suited to hanging in a closet. "We'll fix it," she kept murmuring, as if to console herself. Digging around, she found two pairs of pajama bottoms. There was one covered in little purple bunnies. She didn't think he'd appreciate that. The others were a plaid in red and gold. Gryffindor colors. A devilish grin spread across her face. She might enjoy her Gryffindor pajamas even more on her Slytherin husband.

"Engorgio," she whispered, pointing her wand at the flanel garment. She eyed the size and hoped it was close enough before tossing the pajamas over to her Professor. They landed on his hairy stomach and he grunted in surprise before lifting them up between two fingers. "Put those on," she commanded. "I won't look."

"Yeah, alright," he grumbled, sounding like an adolescent boy. It made her smirk.

For an age she listened to the sound of him kicking off his trousers, keenly aware that he was now naked right behind her. Then he stopped. And she listened for the sound of him putting on his new pajama bottoms. "Professor?" she asked at last, beginning to question the wisdom of asking him to undress. "Have you got your new trousers on?"

He grunted with what might have been irritation. "Alright, alright. I'll put 'em on."

She couldn't suppress a giggle. He was acting like a child. She listened again for a long moment before asking him again. "All dressed?"

His grunted answer seemed to be in the affirmative, but she wasn't entirely sure. And so, it was with great trepidation that Hermione Granger slowly turned around to assess her husband's condition. He was indeed dressed in her pajama bottoms, which fit him perfectly. A bit too well, if she were honest with herself. There was something very satisfying about seeing the Head of Slytherin House in her Gryffindor pajamas. His long black hair was spread across the pillow and his legs were stretched out before him so that she could clearly see the bulge in the front of his trousers. It made her pulse race and a warmth rush to the juncture between her legs. She shook her head. Now was not the time for such nonsense.

"Alright," she told him, crawling back onto the bed, "I've just got a few more pages and then I'll turn out the lights."

He grunted in response and she settled in to finish the reading she'd been doing on contractual magic.

Through the haze of dizzying drunkenness, Severus turned his head to study his wife. She was wearing those damn tiny shorts again, her bare legs golden in the candlelight. Such perfect, shapely legs. They looked smooth as satin. Part of him wanted to reach a hand out and run it up and down her thigh. The thought made his cock jump.

Her professor pulled the blankets up to his waist, bending his knees and planting his feet against the mattress. "Here," he grumbled, throwing a stretch of comforter over her legs, too.

"Oh gods no," she chastised, pushing the blankets off, "it's too hot in here for that." And it was true. She hadn't tampered with the fire he'd had burning since he left and the room was cozy and warm.

"I'll fix that," he said, waving a lazy hand toward the hearth. The fire went out at his command. Considering the state he was in, Hermione couldn't help but be impressed. "There. Now, you need blankets." He tugged on the blankets and tossed a length of it over her again.

Hermione laughed. "Well, that's very kind of you, but I'm quite comfortable without them, thanks."

"Uggghhh," he groaned, "just cover up your damn thighs."

"Wh-what?"

Her professor dragged a hand across his face. "I don't need…" he trailed off, gesturing at her legs.

Hermione's face grew hot and she pulled up the comforter, if for no other reason than that she had nothing to say. Inside, there was a thrill running up and down her spine, settling in the pit of her stomach like molten coals. She must have read the same sentence ten times before she calmed down, took a deep breath, and continued with her work.

"Granger?" Professor Snape murmured in a hoarse voice. She had thought he was asleep.

"Yes, professor?"

"Have you ever been to Morocco?"

A confused laugh escaped her at that. "No."

There was a long pause and then her professor said, "d'you think, someday, you'd like to go with me?"

…*~*J*~*...

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you'll drop me a line to let me know what you think!

:} llorolalluvia