Thank you so much for your continued support and your patience, LOL! This fic is a priority. I just have a lot going on. (My other fics are also priorities, but… there's a pecking order). Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has supported this story so far, especially everyone who Reviewed the last chapter: Ruth, Simona Polle, BraGirl1983, Aisti, Mel, NeuroNerd11, EvanescoVeritas, Dance1989, Capt. MonRobby, lornabrownie, Missy Megs, Elliania, pgoodrichboggs, Moirai73, PerfReedus, ALIASTESIN, MissusGages, Pirocantha, Whack-the-beetle, Sspulse, Lucyole, Sobela, NovelIsRoman, vaila, Bubblegum, ZoeyOlivia, Me, marzipan4, Olo, hendo2207, and several Guests! I'm sorry, I know I almost never actually respond to your Reviews, but I promise I cherish every single one of them. I just never know what to say in return :P
I hope you enjoy Chapter 18! And if you do, Please Review!
…*~*J*~*...
By Wednesday, the whole school knew what Granger had said about him. And yet, he would not have heard a whisper of it had she not confessed to him, herself.
Severus watched the Hall, stabbing resentfully at his breakfast. He hated to admit that he was glad she had told them the lie that she had, if the alternative was the truth. And yet, he was afraid. It was a matter of nuance. Of course he agreed with her that it was terrible to have the entire school assuming that he was forcing himself on her. But Severus Snape was used to having horrible assumptions made about him. The more important dilemma was that he couldn't have his Death Eaters suspecting him of gentleness toward her. True, the Dark Lord had commanded him to try to please her, but it was not expected that he actually would. If only there were some way he could show his Slytherins, at least, that though he may have pleased the girl in bed, it was certainly not because he actually cared for her. He would just have to show them, somehow, that his motives were ultimately selfish.
WHAM! Severus flinched back from the table. A scruffy brown owl had landed with a clumsy crash right into his plate of eggs and sausages, knocking his breakfast to the floor. He glared at the idiot bird, snatching the scroll off its leg with less care than he would normally have given.
"Hey," hissed the girl in an angry whisper. "He didn't mean to. There's no need to be so rough…"
Severus glared at the little twit, silencing her with the venom of his gaze.
He unfurled the parchment. It was from Dolohov. He was anxious for another potion. Severus sighed. It was lucky he had several vials made ahead of time for Dolohov. Between classes and grading, creating a new potion for Lucius, replenishing Poppy's stores in the hospital wing, and dealing with his marriage in all that it entailed, Severus hardly had time to brew another batch of the Voluptatem potion. He scribbled back a response that he could meet with his brother tonight and tied it with grudgingly less force to the leg of the waiting owl. The owl hesitated, apparently hoping for a bite of Severus's destroyed breakfast, but the professor only scowled and shooed the bird away.
Antonin Dolohov looked more anxious than Severus could ever remember seeing the man when they met late that night in Knockturn Alley. The skinny, gray-faced Death Eater practically snatched the vial out of Severus's hand. He nearly forewent the traditional toast and eagerly gulped down his glass before Severus had raised his own to his lips. Dolohov sank back in his chair at their usual corner table with a sigh.
Severus sipped his own cold beer with much more patience and enjoyment. But even so, the tiny drop of potion that had been added to it quickly made its presence known. The dusty, mouldering old bar was full of light and life. The laughing people were no longer veiled threats, but humans living as humans will do. The very essence of reality jumped forth from the darkened corners. And everywhere he looked the world was made of color and texture; all of it tied to emotion. All of it beautiful.
The amber hues of the wood-panelled walls struck him as particularly lovely. That dark, golden gleam was so full of vitality and warmth. It was nearly the exact shade of Hermione Granger's eyes. Hermione.
Shock exploded in his mind, reverberating out in tingling electricity to the tips of his fingers and toes. And with it a pang of mingled tenderness and sorrow. How could he have fooled himself for so long? But no, he mustn't think of it! He must Occlude! He mustn't accept the awful truth. The truth that he, Severus Snape, had allowed himself to become vulnerable once more. That he had fallen in love…
Severus threw up a wall in his mind, his train of thought slamming into it with a painful jerk as a near instant headache pulsed beneath the warm ecstasy of the Voluptatem potion. He could not allow himself to think about that. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
He glanced over at his brother in hopes of a distraction, but the other man was staring with hazy eyes at the ceiling, lost in the bliss of oblivion. There was nothing he could do but continue to sip his frothy, cold, softly bubbling beer. Had anything ever tasted so good? Or felt so good on his tongue?
But something was itching in the back of his mind. Even this perfect pleasure could not compare to the thought he'd had just moments ago.
I love her I love her I love her…
NO! He mustn't think about that. He mustn't think about that. And anyway what is love? He was fooling himself. He hardly knew the girl. It was only the chemistry of his human flesh that made him feel this way. It was only his desire for the girl. His desire to have her. His desire to feel her young, soft, beautiful body beneath his own. Her soft skin. Her riotous curls. And those eyes watching him with raw, unabashed desire.
Severus's cock was hard beneath his cloak. He wanted nothing more than to return home to his wife and seduce her in their marriage bed. And yes she would succumb. Oh yes. He knew that well enough. He could have her. All he had to do was say the word.
Horror penetrated the haze of aroused pleasure and Severus sat bolt upright. He needed to take his all-purpose sober up potion. But he couldn't do that here with Dolohov. No one could know he had an antidote to the various poisons they begged him to provide.
"My brother," croaked Severus, turning bleary eyes to his nearly unconscious companion. The other man did not move except to blink, his dark eyes rolling to meet his brother's through a sheen of red. "As... stimulating as your company is this evening," said Severus with a smirk, "I feel compelled to return home to the willing young witch who awaits me."
Dolohov's blank face broke into a nasty leer. "Can't say I blame you, Snape," he said, and his head fell back against the wall, his eyelids half-shuttered and his expression blank once again.
Severus withdrew the sober up potion the moment he was back in the Alley, but he didn't dare take it yet. Apparition was dangerous enough with a psychoactive potion pulsing through his veins. But under the extreme pain and immediate illness that was sure to befall him the moment he took the antidote, he would almost definitely splinch himself.
The Hogwarts grounds were frozen and silent. Magical. The majesty of the enchanted castle swelled in the cavity of his chest until it was like to overwhelm him. This was the first place he had ever been safe. The first place he could really call his own. Home.
The stars sparkled brilliantly overhead and all the world seemed to be a wonderland. He wanted Hermione to see it. He wanted to show her this perfect beauty. He wished she were beside him now, holding his hand…
Stop stop stop stop!
Severus froze, burying his face in his hands and refocusing his attention on the here and now. The feel of his own hands against his face. Warmth. Dry, calloused hands. Long fingers. Skeletal, in a way. And strangely… beautiful. He wondered if Hermione would think so.
No no no no no!
He couldn't dare to wait any longer. He would just have to struggle through the pain to make it back to his safe, dry quarters. Where the beautiful, young witch would be waiting for him, ready to help him out of his freezing clothes. Wanting to take care of him. Safe. He would be safe with her there. She would take care of him. Hermione would take care of him.
He tipped the contents of the bottle down his throat, staggering slightly in anticipation of the pain. It came in waves. For a moment, he was merely aware. Sober. He saw himself in the distanced, objective way he usually did. He hated what he had become. Then an ache crept in behind his eyes, sharpening to blinding agony that caused him to stumble and nearly fall. He cried out into the night even as bile rose up in the back of his throat. But he could not be sick. Not yet. He needed the potion to take its full effect.
Severus hurried toward the castle, his vision clouding and clearing in waves as pain overtook him. He could not feel the ground beneath him and then it was as if there was only ground and the gravity pulling him down toward it. He was nearly to the castle steps when he stumbled, slamming hard into the frozen ground. He might have broken every bone in his body. And he might be fine. But either way, there was nothing for it but to pull himself up to his feet and continue on.
It took two tries. The first, pain lashed through him so sharp and unforgiving that he gave in and let it take him back to his hands and knees. The second, he managed to stay on his feet, though the dizziness caused him to sway until nothing was up or down but just some soup of sensation that he could not escape. It was by sheer will and years of training his own mental strength, that he managed to stand his ground.
He fell again in the corridor that led to the dungeons. Home. He focused all his will on that destination. Once he was safely tucked away in his quarters, he would be able to collapse or be sick or whatever the potion wanted him to do. He only had to make it that far.
The mural that marked the entrance to his rooms arose like a beacon of hope in a sea of darkness and agony. He clawed his way toward it, slamming hard into its surface and panting as the chill of the stone seeped into his skin. It was so reassuringly solid and strong that it almost didn't matter how the world still spun in three different directions around him. Severus counted out several long, measured breaths, focusing on the throbbing pressure threatening to burst behind his eyes until it was only a fact of his existence, something he could overlook. At least for the moment.
He opened the door with a practiced movement of his arm and promptly slammed into one of the work-benches inside. Something smashed to the floor. Probably jars of potions ingredients, but he would just have to worry about that later. There was nothing for it now. The bench was a sharp magnet in his belly. He did not seem to be able to pull away. Instead, he slid himself along its length, swallowing another upsurge of bile.
The door to the bedroom slammed open and Hermione was there. Severus shook his head, blinking away the relief and embracing the shame of her seeing him this way. Then he was past the bench and out in the open once again, with nothing to tie him to this version of Up and Down. He swayed and she darted forward, throwing her arms around him. Absurd. The girl couldn't possibly sustain his weight.
But his hands landed on her upper arms and it seemed he didn't need her to support him at all. Up and Down were fixed in his mind again. And he was steady.
"Are you alright?" Her voice was full of concern and her eyes turned up to meet his. Those warm brown eyes, the color of polished wood in candlelight. Distantly, Severus knew he was no longer under the influence of the Voluptatem potion. Therefore, his response to the girl was entirely his own. And even perhaps a little more so, considering the draining effect of the antidote he had taken.
He nodded, not daring to speak.
"Here. Let me help you." Hermione released him slowly, hoisting one of his arms around her shoulders and encouraging him to lean against her as she stepped cautiously toward the bedroom. Severus ignored the instinct to push her away and allowed her to help him. If only this once.
After all, it's her fault I'm in this condition in the first place.
Through the haze of pain and nausea, one small pleasure made itself apparent: the scent of her hair. He clung to that, preferring even the shame that came with it to the agony wracking his body in sharper and sharper waves.
She tried to turn him toward the bed, but Severus stopped her with a rasped "bathroom," and hurried them toward the open door. He nearly dragged her down with him as he stumbled through the doorway and collapsed around the toilet, retching into the bowl with commendable force.
"Oh gods," Hermione was muttering. "Oh gods! What can I do?"
Severus considered telling her to go to bed and let him deal with it alone, but he was weak. He had not the strength of will to push her away when she could do so much to help him. And even as he was spitting acid and considering how she could best be of assistance, he felt her soft hands at his neck. She was scooping his hair back and pulling it tight, tying it up in a knot behind his head.
He felt so many things at once. Revulsion at the raw tenderness of the gesture and how pathetic he must seem. Shame that she was seeing him so clearly now, his face revealed by the absence of his curtain of hair. And something else, a sort of painful lurching in his chest that was somehow better and yet worse than all the rest.
"It's alright," she cooed, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "You'll feel better soon. Tell me what you need and I'll do it."
"Nothing for it," Severus rasped in a vomit-roughened voice. "Have to see it through." He would have loved to take a pain potion, but his all-purpose antidote would counteract the effects of that almost immediately. There was truly nothing he could do but endure and let the hours pass in slow agony.
Hermione was silent for a long time while he retched some more. He started to think that she had left the room. But then she spoke up, her voice coming from much closer than he had expected. "Wouldn't you rather lie down, then?" she said. "Get you out of those clothes? I can fetch you a bin for… all that, and we can put it next to the bed. What do you think?"
Severus panted a moment, staring down into his own foul sick. Finally, he nodded.
Hermione helped the man to stand and told him to keep still, leaning against the sink. She watched in horror as his pale face shifted into tones of grey, the lines deepening, twisting sickly, before fading back to normal. She helped him out of his cloak and then his coat, one arm at a time, then tossed the heavy garments into the corner of the room. Idly, she wondered if he was always sick this often. If, perhaps, that didn't make a terrible sort of sense. She felt a rush of pity for the man she had known as Professor Snape, suffering all alone and being mocked for it.
He had to take a break to vomit again before she could help him out of his shirtsleeves, and Hermione marvelled at his stillness and resolve. It was strange for him to let her undress him this way, undoing his buttons while he panted into the chilly air, his eyes squeezed shut and his expression twisted with pain.
She pulled off his heavy dragonhide boots one at a time, tossing them aside, but when she made to undo his trousers, he caught her wrist, meeting her gaze with his wide, black eyes.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she berated him. "I've seen you before."
He studied her a moment longer before swallowing and releasing her wrist. Regardless of her familiarity with the man's body, Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable undressing him this way. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so weak he had allowed it. Or the vulnerable way he stood, helpless, unconcerned. Usually, Severus Snape would be quite concerned about her seeing him this way, so she could only assume that incredible pain was distracting him from his usual shame.
And then there was the fact that his cock was limp. She realized she had never seen it this way before. Simply naked. Not aroused. Not prepared for the awkward joining of their bodies under the law. Just his body, unclothed and vulnerable. It struck her then just how weak he was.
She Summoned her Gryffindor pajamas and helped him into them before leading him back to the bed. His nausea seemed to have abated a little, though the agony in his face told her the rest of his symptoms remained. She fetched the bin from the bathroom and made it taller with a wave of her wand, setting it next to the bed and making sure that he saw it. "Can I get you anything else?" she said.
His red-rimmed black eyes stared at her for a long moment. Then he shook his head.
"If you need anything," she told him, "just let me know." And she climbed into bed behind her husband, propping herself up for the long night ahead.
…*~*J*~*...
Severus awoke feeling exhausted, but without any lingering symptoms of withdrawal. His nose was pressed against Hermione's soft skin and his arm was draped across her lap.
His eyes popped open. The girl had propped herself up against the pillows, probably the better to stay awake watching him. Her hand was resting in his tousled hair and the hot skin against his nose was the midriff at her waist. He flinched away, glancing up to ensure that she was still asleep. There was nothing graceful about her now, with her neck bent back at an odd angle and her mouth ajar. But he couldn't help a smile, and the emotion swelling in the cavity of his chest could have been guilt or gratitude.
Hermione drifted through her classes in a stupor. She was unaccustomed to sleeping so little. It was even difficult to focus on her lectures. She wondered if this was how ordinary students felt all the time. She was so tired, in fact, that after dinner she walked right past the door to their quarters and found herself in an entirely different part of the dungeons. Turning around with an irritated sigh, she was only one turn away from the entrance when she heard voices in the corridor. Malfoy appeared, looking smug as ever and telling some story about his father to Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. He broke off mid-sentence when he saw her.
"Well, well," he said in a smarmy voice, "trying to run away, Granger?"
Pansy cackled. "No Draco, haven't you heard? Granger likes it right where she is."
"Oh, that's right," said Draco, stepping around Hermione until she was trapped against the wall, "you've developed a taste for captivity, haven't you, Mudblood?"
Something caught Hermione's eye and she glanced up in time to see Severus swooping around the corner. The flash of anger in his eyes was gone before the others spun around. "Draco," he said, sounding thoroughly unconcerned, "haven't your parents taught you not to touch what isn't yours?"
Malfoy backed off, looking a little guilty but lifting his arrogant chin in the air. "We were only making sure she wasn't snooping around."
Severus flicked his gaze from Malfoy to Hermione without moving his head. "My… darling wife," he said scornfully, his mouth twitching up at the corner in what she had always known as his sadistic sneer. "Come," he commanded in a deep voice that brooked no argument. He raised a hand out to her.
Hermione skirted around Malfoy and went to stand before her husband, turning back to face the Slytherins the way a rabbit might keep its eyes on a fox. His arms landed on her upper arms, biting in with a little more force than was entirely necessary as he stepped closer behind her until they touched. "My dear," he growled, lowering his nose to the top of her head and breathing in gently but obviously. She shivered. There was a smirk in his voice when he continued. "I thought I told you to wait for me in our rooms."
"I-I know," said Hermione. And despite her act, she could feel an embarrassed flush in her cheeks and a pleasant warmth collecting in her core. He was pressed against her. She could feel his body close behind her. Her bum pressed against the front of his thighs. She wondered what he was thinking; if he liked the way she felt in his arms. She didn't even care what Malfoy and his cronies might be thinking, standing over there with their arrogant smirks.
"Go on, then," her husband purred in a dangerously gentle voice he had never used when they were alone. "I will join you... momentarily." And with that, he released her, giving her a little swat on the arse as she started back toward their chambers. She had turned the corner when she heard him telling his Slytherins that "Gryffindors are so easily led."
Hermione stretched out on their bed and pulled her Transfigurations homework onto her lap. But try as she might, she could not seem to focus on it right now. Her mind was buzzing. She could still feel the heat of her husband close behind her, his thighs against her bum. Had he enjoyed it as much as she had?
Hermione groaned, as much in frustration with her husband's teasing as with her inability to concentrate. Tonight was the night, she decided. She was going to talk to her husband about their marriage bed.
The door slammed open and Severus Snape appeared. He cast her an annoyed look and stalked over to the wardrobe. "Forgive me," he tossed off in a nonchalant tone, studiously avoiding looking at her as he removed his outer layers, "I thought it prudent to leave my Slytherins with rather a different impression than the one you gave your Gryffindors."
Hermione watched the man with equal measures irritation and enjoyment as the heat he had kindled within her stirred. "Why are you apologizing?" she asked him, fighting back an impudent grin.
He turned toward her with a suspicious scowl. "For my… bold treatment of your person."
"Speaking of which," she said, grinning despite herself, "I was hoping we could talk abo…"
"I'm afraid I have no time for frivolous discussion tonight, Granger. I have a lot of work to do in my lab." And to demonstrate this, he stalked into the other room before she had a chance to say another word.
Hermione glared at the door between them before turning back to her studies. And though she decided to punish him by wearing only a t-shirt and knickers to bed, she was fast asleep long before he reentered their bedroom.
…*~*J*~*...
Friday morning, Severus was visited by another owl. This one was far more refined and well-groomed than the first and had the grace and wherewithall not to land in his breakfast. He knew without opening the parchment who the bird must be from.
Lucius was wanting to know how his potion was coming. Well, luckily, Severus had made a good bit of progress last night, but he had another layer he wanted to add tonight and after that he would need to test the thing himself. But reading on it became clear that Lucius was hoping it would be done in time for a "little soirée" he had decided to throw tomorrow night.
Panic seized Severus. It would be a prime opportunity, as a spy for the Order. Lucius had specifically asked for a potion that would lower inhibition, so that would not be considered suspicious. And yet it played right into his hand. Likely the most trusted and influential Death Eaters would be invited, along with a few potential converts. Lucius liked to use revelry as a medium for convincing those who were tempted to join. Between the boastfulness that usually went along with such events and the potion-induced easing of conscientiousness, it was the perfect environment for secrets to be slipped.
But his potion wasn't quite ready. It really needed a little more time. And he certainly needed to test it before he set it free upon a revel of Death Eaters. Who knew what horrors they could get up to under such unpredictable circumstances? And yet… perhaps if he were to tweak the potion to ensure that the impulses it stirred were not of a violent nature… Or if the potion itself suppressed violent and angry emotions… Yes, that was entirely possible. And he knew exactly how. With a few tweaks, he could be reasonably sure that the effects of his potion would leave the Death Eaters less dangerous than they were without the potion.
Severus ripped his serviette out from under his plate, dug a self-inking quill out of the pocket of his robes, and began taking notes. He could tell without looking that Granger was surprised and excited by this behaviour, but he didn't have time to bother with her.
"What are you…"
"Quiet. I'm trying to think."
Lucius's owl fluttered its wings at that and Severus looked up in surprise. He had forgotten the thing was still here. "Oh, yes," he told it. "Here." And he scribbled a hasty message to Lucius, ensuring his colleague that the potion would be ready in time, then leaned forward to tie the note back onto the leg of the owl.
Severus set all of his classes to busywork and spent the entire day working on his potion, writing out different variants and double-checking to make sure nothing was dangerous in combination and that the overall effects would be basically harmless.
He also had to be careful not to make it too strong for himself. It was customary that he take the first taste of any potion he brought for his brothers. And given the nature of the festivities, it was probably wise to keep the potency low enough that he would be able to handle two doses over the course of the night and still keep his wits about him. Of course, this was all guesswork. He would have loved about a month to test out the different combinations and get a feel for their effects on him. But he was nothing if not a masterful improvisor. This would just have to do.
After classes, he shut himself away in his lab, starting a new batch from scratch. He hardly had time (after taking into account the various lengths of time where it would need sit and simmer) to get the potion done, let alone tested. But that would be alright. He was confident in his work. And he had rarely been wrong.
Granger came in a while later. He had just added the porcupine quills and flipped over a nine minute sand timer so the potion could simmer.
"Don't you think you should eat at some point?" she asked him.
"What?"
"Supper? Sustenance? Fuel for whatever project you're working on."
"Oh, no. I don't have much of an appetite, at present." He leaned against the counter behind him, noticing for the first time an ache in his lower back. "I often don't," he continued to cover a grimace of pain, "when I'm working on something."
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Well. You've put your poor body through enough in the past week without denying it the proper building blocks to repair the damage."
Severus smirked at her, despite himself. "That's what potions are for."
But the Gryffindor was not convinced. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, but her lip did quirk up at the corner. "Are you telling me that you've been taking potions to supplement the nutrition you've been lacking?"
He mirrored her stance, crossing his legs at the ankle and smirking down at her. "Are you asking me if I'm taking my vitamins?"
Hermione was smirking back at him, now. She sauntered toward him, around the desk, too close for comfort. It took all of his willpower not to take a step away. Then she folded her arms again and smirked up at him, lifting one delicate eyebrow, her eyes twinkling. "So what if I am?"
He fought to hold her gaze without giving away just how anxious she was making him. Just by being here. So close. He could see the warm honeyed brown of her irises. "Well," he said in a voice that came out much less stern and more teasing than he had meant for it to, "I would say I didn't expect you to be that sort of wife."
"The sort of wife who cares about her husband's health?"
"The sort of wife who nags her husband as if he were a rebellious child."
She laughed at that, her eyes crinkling with real mirth. "Is that what I'm doing?"
He smirked down at her, but didn't respond. What was she doing? Why was she here? And why did he feel like he'd forgotten how to move about like a normal human being? Already, leaning against the counter felt stiff and unnatural. Did she notice his discomfort? Did she suspect its cause? He wished she would leave him alone.
But she didn't. Instead, she turned toward the work bench, where his potion was nearly ready for the next step. "What are you working on?" she asked.
Severus cleared his throat. He took advantage of the fact that her back was turned to unfold himself from his stiff position, chastising himself when he really was as clumsy about it as he had imagined. "It is a potion for Lucius," he said simply.
She tilted her face up to him, lifting an eyebrow in an unspoken question.
"The… Death Eaters often request such inventions from me."
Her eyes went wide. "You mean you're… inventing one? This? You're making it up?"
He nodded, stepping next to her to assess his work. "And if you don't mind," he said, deciding that the colour was the exact shade of mauve he had expected and watching the last of the sand drain out of the timer, "it is ready for the next step."
"Can I watch?"
"I would rather you didn't."
"Why?"
He grimaced. How could he tell her that his attention would remain on her for as long as she was in this room? "This sort of work requires intense focus," he said, instead. "And you can't help but be a distraction."
"Alright," she said, sounding dejected. She hesitated, standing beside him a little longer and watching him stir the contents of the cauldron the required dozen times. She waited until he had removed the stirring rod before speaking again. "I had wanted to ask you something."
He tensed, adding a cup of sopophorous beans and stirring again before answering. "What is it?" he growled in an annoyed voice, hoping she wasn't foolish enough to broach the topic of sex with him right now.
"I know I can't talk to you about… my research. But… I… think I might be able to find books about it in Hogsmeade tomorrow. Only… it would probably look a bit odd for me to be buying books of… that nature…"
"You want me to buy them for you."
"Well, yes."
Severus sighed. "I won't have time to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow," he told her.
"Not even for an hour or so?" A note of desperation had entered her voice. He didn't like the way it sounded. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important."
He considered for a moment. Perhaps there would be time after stirring in the Veritaserum. The rest of the potion would be in a sort of stasis at that point and the truth serum would have a less volatile reaction to the peppermint if it was given time to blend beforehand. He took a moment to calculate about what time of day he would likely be at that stage in the brewing. If he stayed up until 3:00 and woke up at 8:00… Of course, he would also need to make sure the potion was ready in time for dinner at Malfoy Manor. "Alright," he told her, reaching for his serrated knife, "I can spare two hours at a maximum tomorrow, starting at noon."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much," she told him, sounding so sincere and breathless that he nearly sliced off his own thumbprint.
"Yes, well… I'll need to be able to concentrate on this until then. Do you understand?"
"Of course," she said, turning toward the door to their bedroom. "Good luck."
His wife was asleep when Severus finally dragged himself to bed. He took the chance and changed clothes right there beside the bed. She slept like a rock. He knew that much by now.
Crawling beneath the covers, he couldn't help but notice her bare legs. It irked him that she had begun to dress this way to bed. How was he supposed to get to sleep with thoughts of her soft, shapely thighs so close to him beneath the coverlet? How was he supposed to keep her at a distance when she insinuated herself so effortlessly into his life?
Suppressing a groan, Severus turned away from the girl in his bed; turned away from the memory of the thoughts he had had the other night, under the influence of the Voluptatem potion. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned away from thoughts of her.
…*~*J*~*...
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