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Here's Chapter 13
…*~*J*~*...
Whispers. Laughter. Twisting halls. Quills signing names. Old parchment covered in an antique scroll. Running through the corridors, past laughing faces, deep into the heart of the dungeons.
Where she was safe.
Straight into the arms of the Potions Master, who pulled her close, wrapping her up in his warmth. And then tumbling into his bed. The wiry hairs of his torso tickled the bare skin of her belly as she opened her legs to him. Heat. His lips at her neck, hot breath against her ear. They moved together. Tight warmth pooled deep in her belly as pleasure blossomed deep inside her. Something was rising up within her, cresting, so close. Her professor moaned into her ear. Over and over. He sounded like he was in pain.
And then she was wide awake, gasping in the chilly darkness. She hardly had time to register her husband's groaning before something hard collided with her face. She cried out in pain, clutching the bridge of her nose as tears spouted from her eyes. And the lights came on.
"Oh no, oh no," Snape murmured reaching out to take her face in his hands. "Forgive me. I… I-I was asleep. I… forgot…"
"It's okay, it's okay," she said, waving him away.
"No. Let me see." He pushed her hand away, lifting her chin so that her face was in the light. "So sorry," he whispered. "I'll get you a salve." And then he was out of bed, padding across the dungeon floor on bare feet in her Gryffindor pajamas. She could hear him rifling through the cabinet in the bathroom for a minute before he reemerged with a jar of bruise salve. In a blink he was cupping her chin in his hand again and spreading the cold, pungent ointment across her cheek with his long, pale fingers. It took him a moment to realize how intimate the gesture was. And when he did, he pulled away, the concern melting from his eyes which now turned down coolly as he busied himself closing up the jar.
"You didn't take your Dreamless Sleep," she said, understanding. "Is this why you always take it?"
His black eyes met hers, considering, before turning back down to his own hands. "Yes," he said. "I should have told you before now." He shrugged. "A side-effect of psychological torture."
"Oh." It was all she could say.
"It's better you know, now. I cannot continue to take Dreamless Sleep forever."
"No, better not," she answered, lamely.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded. "Fine. More shaken than anything."
"Would you like some tea?"
Hermione's brow furrowed as she studied her professor. Was he really offering tea at this time of night? "Sure," she found herself saying.
"Dobby..." Snape murmured, trailing off. She had just enough time to wonder what he was going to say about Dobby before the Elf appeared, standing, in the middle of their bed.
"Oh!" the Dobby cried. "Miss Hermione Granger! Dobby is hearing that you are living here, now, but Dobby is not knowing that he will get to see you!"
"Er… yes, Dobby. It's very good to see you, too." Of course, that was not entirely true, as Hermione could not throw off the strangeness of having the Elf in her bed with her and her husband, Professor Snape.
"Dobby," Snape addressed the excitable Elf, "would you be so kind as to fetch us some tea?"
"Of course, Sir! Dobby is happily serving Professor Severus Snape and Miss Hermione Granger, Sir. It is Dobby's great pleasure!"
"Much obliged," the professor drawled as Dobby disappeared on the spot.
"You know Dobby?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.
Professor Snape lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed. The master he once served is one of my oldest friends."
Her cheeks flamed at that. Of course the Malfoys were old friends of his. Hadn't Draco Malfoy just said that Snape was like an uncle to him?
The silence between them grew awkward and Hermione reached for something to say, but came up empty. Her eyes flickered up to his only to find him studying the sheets, as much at a loss for something to say as she was. She took the chance to study him. They were both sitting with their legs crossed on top of the blankets and he was still wearing her Gryffindor pajama bottoms. His chest was bare. The dim light cast a dramatic shadow across his face, emphasizing his enormous nose. And suddenly, all she could think about was the dream she'd been having, the way his face felt pressed against hers, his breath falling hot against her ear. It had felt so real. She wanted to relive it again. She wanted to bring it to life.
Dobby reappeared in the middle of their bed with a tray full of tea things and chocolate biscuits.
"Oh, Dobby! Thank you so much!"
"Of course, Miss Hermione Granger! Dobby is doing anything Miss Hermione Granger asks. Miss Hermione Granger is Mister Harry Potter's friend."
"Yes," Snape cut in with a dry, deep tone, "that will be all, Dobby. Thank you."
"Of course, Professor Severus Snape, Sir," Dobby said with a bow, and then he disappeared and the tray rattled as it settled on the mattress.
Silence elapsed once again and Hermione snatched up a biscuit, taking a huge bite to cover the awkwardness. Her professor only stared down at the tray in contemplation. "It probably needs to steep," he said obviously.
"Mmmhmm…" she agreed, flicking her eyes over his form. She could still remember the way his skin felt against hers in that dream, his coarse black hair tickling her navel, sweat making the friction slick and hot. "We should probably talk about Saturday," she heard herself say. Snape shifted uncomfortably, sending his eyes away across the room. "I've been reading those papers about contractual magic and… I think I understand the premise now."
"Indeed?"
"Mmhmm. Basically, it depends on the idea that if a lawyer could find a loophole, the magic won't work. Only… it's more like a computer program because you don't actually have to argue the point. If there is a loophole, it just won't work."
"Hmm…"
"So because the contract literally states that we agree not to use birth control, it will notify them if we use any sort of birth control at all."
Severus' eyes leapt up to hers at that. Merlin. He'd been so focused on the task of trying to find a way around the Law, altogether, he hadn't even considered the potential ramifications if there was no way.
"So, obviously this is not ideal," she continued, "but it looks like our only option is to use the... er… the... pull-out method." She waited for him to respond, but his eyes were locked on the wall and his face had gone blank. "That's the method where…"
"I know what the bloody method is, Granger."
"Oh."
He lifted the teapot and began to pour their tea. "Sugar? Cream?"
She said 'yes' to both. It was that sort of night. And they lapsed back into silence, once again. But inside Severus's mind, the wheels of thought were turning. Her words had given him an idea. Of course, he'd need to do more research.
The silence was putting Hermione's nerves on edge. She found herself blurting out again, if for no other reason than to break the interminable quiet. "I also found out that the contracts go into effect at midnight on the day they're signed, so that means we have until midnight on Saturday. And then we'll have until midnight each Saturday after that." She waited, but he didn't respond. "That means there won't be overlap if we were to…" she stopped herself, her cheeks heating with sudden embarrassment.
"Go on…" he dared her, arching one eyebrow.
"If we were to… that is… if we… if we had sex on a Wednesday, for example."
"Ah."
"Then we'd still have until Saturday the week after that."
"I see."
"Just… good to know."
"Indeed."
For his part, Severus's pulse was racing. He could still feel the afterglow of the Satisfecho potion lifting his spirits and he hated to admit how much he was enjoying their middle-of-the-night tea. He blamed the potion and her insinuation for the fact that his cock was getting hard. If circumstances had been different-if they had not been professor and student, forced together against their will, but merely a young married couple waking up together in the middle of the night-he would have crawled on top of her right now and…
Severus shook his head, as if to clear it. "That bruise should be gone by morning," he said, like an idiot. "I apologize again for… giving it to you."
She shrugged, looking sheepish. "That's okay. No harm done."
They finished their tea and weariness began to settle over them again. Granger was understandably hesitant to sleep with bruise salve on her face, but Severus assured her that it was easy to wash out of hair. She reluctantly complied. He called Dobby back to take the tray away and stretched out beside his wife. And in a manner of minutes, he was fast asleep.
For Hermione, falling asleep took a little while longer. A pleasant hum was buzzing inside of her, and it wasn't because of the tea. She could smell the faint musk of her husband's sweat and hear the soft sound of his breathing. And all she could think was that finally he hadn't said anything to contradict the fact that they were going to have to have sex. Oh Merlin. She still wasn't sure why she even wanted to do it. She certainly hadn't only a week ago. But it was true. She was very much looking forward to Saturday night. And she was beginning to think he was beginning to too.
…*~*J*~*...
Severus's alarm awakened him only as a technicality. There was no adrenaline left in his veins to snap him to attention the way it usually did. Instead, he registered it only as a distant noise, as if far away, or on another plane of being. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand and sank back into his pillow, wishing against all available reason that he could ignore reality forever.
The first rule of psychoactive potions was that the after effects were equal and opposite the initial effect of the potion. Whereas pain was the after effect of the Voluptatem potion (the pleasure potion which he had given Dolohov), apathy followed consumption of the Satisfecho.
Severus's mind began, lazily, to reflect on the night before, beginning (naturally) with the parts that should bring him the most pain. He should have cringed to remember the things he'd said to his innocent wife, but he felt nothing. He had no energy to regret his words to her or to dread speaking with her again.
It was an eternity later and also no time at all when Granger's voice interrupted his idle reflection. "Professor?" she asked, sounding hesitant and concerned. He wanted to shout at her to leave him alone, but instead he merely sighed and ignored her. "Professor, it's time to get up. If we don't leave soon, we'll miss breakfast."
"Go," he groaned, not moving from his position slowly melting into the sheets.
She hesitated. "Are-are you sure?" She waited for a response that never came before continuing. "Will you be up in time for class?"
"Granger," Severus growled, mustering up all the energy he could, "I've been getting myself out of bed longer than you've been alive."
She giggled nervously at that. "Fair point." Then she waited again before sighing. "Alright. I suppose I'll see you at lunch." And then, to his great relief, she was gone.
Severus did drag himself out of bed in time for class, but just barely. He left only enough time to dress and down a number of potions before stalking through the dungeon corridors, feeling in a foul mood. He barked at a few students who were dawdling in the halls and swept into his classroom a few minutes late. The chatter dissipated and the tension in the room grew thick with apprehension as he threw instructions for a potion on the board. "Get to work," he told his class and then he seated himself behind his desk and tried to concentrate on grading.
By the time lunch rolled around, Severus was feeling only slightly better than before. He didn't go to the Great Hall to meet his wife, but instead stalked back to the confines of his bedroom. There was work to be done.
Through the haze of numbness that had become his entire world, Severus tried to force himself to read the Marriage Law again. Yes. It was as he had suspected. The Law specifically required "intercourse," between married couples, once a week.
It took every ounce of willpower Severus possessed to make himself leave the safe comfort of his quarters and make his way to the library. He was running out of time. The lunch hour was nearly over by the time he located a recent copy of the Ministry's official glossary of legal terms.
"Intercourse" was defined as "coitus," or "copulation." "Coitus" was defined as "sexual intercourse." But "copulation" was defined as "sexual intercourse including penetration of the vaginal canal with the penis."
Severus sat back in his chair, his mind buzzing with ideas.
…*~*J*~*...
Hermione half expected her husband to stand her up for dinner, in addition to the two other meals he'd skipped that day. She was pleasantly surprised when he sat down beside her, even if she was still a bit annoyed. She'd been dodging comments from random students in the halls all day. Apparently, the whole school knew she had detention with her husband after dinner tonight. She'd tried to talk to him about it after class this afternoon, but he'd dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
Where was the charming man of the night before? The one who had woken up with her in the middle of the night and sent for tea? The one who had tenderly applied a bruise salve to her face and confessed the secret that he lived with nightmares now? The one who had asked her in a slurred but happy voice if she would like to go to Morocco with him one day? She knew the answer without having to ask. He was sober now. His guard was back up. His shields were in place. He was hiding behind them where he thought she couldn't see.
Severus ignored the eyes of the children in the Hall, though he could feel them flitting to his own tired form. He knew they were delighted he had given his wife detention and he loathed being the subject of their ridicule. But at least he had escaped one small humiliation. Partially, anyway.
If Granger was right about contractual magic (and she probably was), that meant that they would almost certainly have to have relations of some sort, including, at the very least, penetration. But maybe they wouldn't have to go any further than that. She had given him the idea with her suggestion that they use the 'pull-out' method (he shuddered at the memory). After all, if he didn't have to finish inside of her, how far could he push that technicality? It seemed, to his logical mind, that he should be able to get away with doing nothing more than penetrating her and pulling out.
That was not ideal, true. He would have liked to have found a way to completely circumvent the law. And maybe there was still a way yet to be found, but probably not before tomorrow. This, at least, was something. He sighed with relief. Thoughts of having to force himself on the girl and bring himself off while she cringed in disgust or pain had been giving him immeasurable anxiety all week. Now, he could finally relax. He should have felt elated, but alas… the most he could feel through the haze of apathy was the lightness of relief.
After dinner, they both went straight to the classroom. Hermione couldn't help but notice a few Slytherins lingering in the corridor, hiding their laughing smirks behind their hands. She scowled at them and followed her husband into the room before slamming the door behind them.
"Was that necessary?" he asked her in a weary voice as he took his place behind his desk.
"Is this?" she shot back, gesturing to the room around them.
His eyes narrowed. "Yes."
"Why? Haven't you seen the way everyone has been reacting? Don't you know what they think?"
"Indeed I do, Miss Granger, and that is why I had to do it."
"Couldn't you have given me detention with Filch?" A whine had entered Hermione's voice and she shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the emotion gathering in her throat.
"No," he told her and his voice was unsympathetic. "You openly defied me, Granger. I could not allow that."
"You were baiting me," she argued back. They'd talked about this before.
"Yes. Just as my Slytherins expected me to do."
Oh. It was the most honest thing he could have said and Hermione was taken aback. She hadn't thought of it that way.
"And you reacted just as the Hermione Granger they know would do," he continued, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. Hermione was dumbfounded. "And now you are in detention with your angry, Death Eater husband, and they don't know what is happening right now. And they don't know what to expect from you tomorrow. Which is what makes this the perfect opportunity to show them that I am in charge."
Hermione gaped at her professor. He was being completely serious. "So…" she began, her mind working over what he had just said, "you expect me to come out of this acting like you put me in my place?"
"Indeed."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Oh, of all the ridiculous things…"
"My fellow Death Eaters are watching closely, Granger. They have always watched me closely. They know that I am a spy. And some of them confide in me, as brothers. But many others would love to be the one to prove that I have been a traitor all along. So I can't give them any reason to believe that. And they will if they think that I've been soft with you. You. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend, who has aided him several times in keeping the Dark Lord from regaining power. Who now fights on the side seeking to take it away from him again."
"Oh". Hermione supposed it made a certain sense, when he put it that way.
"They know that Albus forced me to marry you, against my will. And they know what the Marriage Law entails. They will expect me to take full advantage of my power over you and to subdue you in any way I see fit. So yes, Granger, I do expect you to emerge from this detention with a different attitude. I expect you to show a certain fear for me, if not respect. Because that is what they will expect from us. If I am truly the loyal Death Eater I need them to believe I am."
Hermione felt very small. He was so right. She should have considered the larger implications. But it still made her feel queasy to pretend to submit to her domineering husband. "I understand," she heard herself saying. "I will do as you think is best. You know more than I do about this."
Her professor let out a small sigh of relief and relaxed back in his chair. "Good," he told her, as if the matter had been settled.
"But," she continued, finding her footing, once again, "that doesn't mean that you and I can't compromise behind their backs."
He lifted an eyebrow at that. "What?"
"Well, for a start, I want my cat to live with me."
"What?"
"He's very smart and we'll teach him to behave. Besides, you can ward your workbenches so that he can't jump up onto them. He likes to be able to come and go as he pleases, so you might not even see him that much."
Snape scowled at her, but didn't seem to have the energy to argue. "Fine," he said. "Is that all?"
"For now," she answered, lifting an eyebrow of her own and giving him a satisfied smirk. "I'll let you know if I think of something else."
He didn't answer, except to narrow his eyes.
Hermione glanced around the room. "Is that it, then? Can I work on my homework a bit so it looks like we took more time?"
At that, her professor's face curled into a hideous sneer. "Oh no, Granger," he murmured in a dangerous tone, "I am still your professor and you still spoke out of turn. Besides, I have cauldrons that need scrubbing."
…*~*J*~*...
Severus was beginning to regret his decision to have the girl scrub cauldrons. Between eating dinner and taking a dangerous amount of potions over the course of the day, the after effects of the Satisfecho were almost entirely gone. As a consequence, Severus's emotions were slowly filtering back in. And, unfortunately, they were skewed in one particular direction.
Scrubbing potions was hot, messy work. Hot water and lots of physical exertion usually made wearing school robes unnecessary and uncomfortable. Granger had decided to remove hers, and Severus's eyes kept darting to her lithe, curvaceous form. He was supposed to be grading essays, for Merlin's sake, but he couldn't keep his attention on his students' terrible writing with his wife contorting herself in such a vulgar manner over her work.
As Hermione scrubbed, her mind began to wander. Inevitably, she pictured the drawings Malfoy had shot at her and all the lewd fantasies he'd had about her detention with her husband. They made her face hot with embarrassment and… something else. One of the drawings had depicted her draped across her professor's lap while he spanked her ad infinitem. There was something tantalizing about that outlandish image; how forbidden it was, how risque. But that hadn't been the most shocking of all.
She blushed just remembering Malfoy's worst drawing; the one she'd set on fire as soon as she'd set eyes upon it. It had been a drawing of Snape's desk with her leaned across it, palms flat against the surface, while her professor pounded against her in quick, jerking movements from behind. Both their faces were contorted in ecstasy, and not in a flattering way. She wondered what Snape would have thought about it if he'd seen it and the thought sent a shiver down her spine. He'd be mortified, of course. But would he think about it? Like she was? Would he picture the scene; imagine doing such a scandalous thing right now?
She glanced up at her husband, surreptitiously, and saw him scowling down at the papers on his desk. It wasn't hard to imagine him standing up and leaning over that heavy, wooden surface, bracing himself and her against it as he… Oh Merlin! She was sweating now, beads dripping down between her breasts. Scrubbing cauldrons was hot, hard work. She wished she could take her vest off.
It was like a light bulb flashing on inside her mind.
Hermione paused in her scrubbing, the deliciousness of the idea falling over her in waves. She thought back to the conversation she'd had with Ginny; how the other girl had been convinced that Snape must be attracted to her. The thought made heat tighten in her core and Hermione recognized it as arousal. Oh Merlin. She was aroused by the thought that her husband might like what he saw.
"Granger, what the hell are you doing?" Snape asked the second her vest hit the floor.
"It's hot," she replied, feeling called out and embarrassed. He was going to see right through this ploy. "You don't mind, do you?"
Severus had to admit the girl's face was flushed with heat. After all, telling her to dress herself would be tantamount to admitting he was uncomfortable. And besides, he liked the way he could see the pointed tips of her breasts through her button-down shirt. Gods. He was almost regretting finding a way around fucking her tomorrow.
Severus shook his head, shocked at himself for thinking such a thing. "Finish with that one and you're free to go," he told her. He couldn't take it anymore.
…*~*J*~*...
That night, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape stretched out beneath the blankets, their backs to one another. Severus had tried his best not to picture his wife as she showered before bed. Hermione had tried her best not to smile when her husband decided to wear her pajamas again. And both of them now clenched their eyes closed tight, willing themselves to fall asleep, longing for and dreading the day to come, respectively.
…*~*J*~*...
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