The days before Christmas were days of adjustments for Hermione and Snape.
She remained in her quarters in Gryffindor Tower, while they took some time
to get to know one another once again and re-establish boundaries for their
marriage and relationship. The morning after their rather enthusiastic
reconciliation found the pair quietly enjoying breakfast in Snape's
quarters with the paper and light conversation. Neither felt up to facing
the populous of the Great Hall - reduced though the numbers were due to the
Christmas holidays.
"Miss Granger, could you pass me the syrup, please," said Snape, not looking up from his paper and holding out his hand to Hermione. When she didn't respond or place the requested item in his grasp, he looked up with an annoyed expression on his face.
Hermione sat staring at him for a moment, until realization of what he had said hit him.
"Dammit, I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, grinning ruefully. "It's just been so long since I've been able to call you anything but Miss Granger. If I had let slip with your given name or with a 'Mrs. Snape' in class over the last six or so years, you would have run screaming, Potter would have hexed me and Weasley would have turned positively green. I think I deserve a little time to get adjusted to the new situation, Angel."
Hermione sighed, passed him the syrup, and gathered her courage to speak.
"Why am I afraid of what is about to come out of your mouth?" asked Snape, looking at her warily.
"It's nothing bad," began Hermione. "I just wonder if we shouldn't have taken this a bit more slowly. Last night and this morning were wonderful, don't get me wrong. But it doesn't wipe out the last 17 years for you, does it? This is difficult for you and perhaps the shift, from student back to lover and wife, is too quick for you. What can I do to help you with this, Severus? Tell me. Please."
Snape sat quietly for a few moments. Then he rose and walked around the table to kneel in front of Hermione.
"Give me a few days, Hermione," he said, sighing. "I'm struggling with having you back in my life, back in my home, back in my bed. It's not easy for me, you are right."
No more words were said as the older wizard laid his head in his young wife's lap. Silently, she stroked his raven hair as they contemplated where life - and time - had brought them.
The breakfast quickly became a new, yet old, ritual for the pair. As a young, married couple with hurried lives - hurry to Oxford, hurry to the potions classroom, hurry to the official dinner in the Great Hall, hurry to start a family, hurry to do everything - they had made it a point of sharing a large, traditional English breakfast every morning. They both routinely had skipped lunch and felt obligated to eat dinner with the masses in the Great Hall every night, so it was their quiet time. It was becoming their quiet time yet again and that was both comforting and familiar.
Their days were spent together, as much as possible. Talking about books, talking about the baby, talking about anything and everything, really. They also took on the project of opening the second floor of Snape's quarters and making plans to reclaim it as living space. House elves scurried around them as they helped the couple clean the rooms. Winky took the painting of the rooms on as a special project, warding the floor below against the fumes for Hermione. Soon after Christmas, they would be able to move Snape and Hermione's things back in to their old bedroom. And Snape, despite knowing they needed to slow things down for at least a little while, was looking forward to that day. He was aching to claim his wife again physically - and was also looking forward to 'christening' their old bedroom, and the bath, and the nursery, and the upstairs guest room and any other room in the castle he could get access to, for that matter. Having trouble keeping his hands off of her, he would frequently stop their work or their chats and take Hermione in his arms, kissing her until they were both breathless.
It was almost enough.
The morning of Christmas Eve, Snape was just stepping out of the shower as he heard Hermione enter his quarters and call for him.
"I'll be out in just a minute!" he replied, from the bathroom. "We had a dung bomb incident this morning in Slytherin. Why anyone thinks dung bombs are appropriate Christmas gifts for children, I do not know. But I absolutely had to shower again after getting out of the Common Room."
Hermione laughed and set about summoning a House Elf to bring them breakfast. Her stomach was doing flips, so she decided that dry toast and herbal tea would do the job for her. She ordered Snape's favorite, French toast with strawberry syrup and whipped cream, for him - smiling at the sickeningly sweet plate when it arrived. Who would have ever guessed that her 'meat and potatoes man' of the past had developed a sweet tooth? Not to mention what the students would think of his pink and white, rather frothy, favorite breakfast. She laughed again and set the table with a swish of her wand. As a final Christmasy touch, she added a centerpiece of greenery and red roses.
Arms slid around her waist in a gentle hug as Snape snuck up behind her to nuzzle her throat. She leaned back into the embrace and drew one hand up to entangle in his still-damp hair as they relaxed and basked in each other's presence. One of his hands drifted to her stomach for a caress and Hermione briefly wondered if he could follow her around all day and do that - it was the first time since she had awoken that she didn't feel like throwing up.
"You smell absolutely wonderful," Snape said, after a moment of silence.
Hermione chuckled.
"I would take that as a compliment if I didn't know you had been sniffing dung bombs all morning," she said, turning around and swatting him playfully on the arm.
He bent down and pressed a light kiss on her lips, gasping in slight shock as she leapt into the kiss and suddenly pressed into him, exploring his body roughly with her hands and his mouth with her tongue.
'Ah,' he thought, vaguely. 'Pregnancy hormones. Not bad, that.'
Giving in and deciding that the 'slow' approach to the physical side of their relationship was highly overrated, he returned her fevered caresses and began slowly easing them toward the couch. She had just torn his half- buttoned shirt from his damp chest and began working on his trousers when they reached their destination. He eased her onto the couch and began working on her robes - just as she lurched to a sitting position and looked at him with horror written across her face.
"Hermione?" he asked, rubbing his jaw where she had cracked him as she sat up. "What is wrong?"
She suddenly bolted for the bathroom, leaving a very stunned and aroused Severus Snape sitting on the couch and listening to his wife's muffled retching. Sighing, he went back to the table and grabbed her cup of tea before following her into the bathroom so he could hold back her hair and help her wipe her flushed face.
After all, wasn't that what husbands were supposed to do, he thought.
"Miss Granger, could you pass me the syrup, please," said Snape, not looking up from his paper and holding out his hand to Hermione. When she didn't respond or place the requested item in his grasp, he looked up with an annoyed expression on his face.
Hermione sat staring at him for a moment, until realization of what he had said hit him.
"Dammit, I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, grinning ruefully. "It's just been so long since I've been able to call you anything but Miss Granger. If I had let slip with your given name or with a 'Mrs. Snape' in class over the last six or so years, you would have run screaming, Potter would have hexed me and Weasley would have turned positively green. I think I deserve a little time to get adjusted to the new situation, Angel."
Hermione sighed, passed him the syrup, and gathered her courage to speak.
"Why am I afraid of what is about to come out of your mouth?" asked Snape, looking at her warily.
"It's nothing bad," began Hermione. "I just wonder if we shouldn't have taken this a bit more slowly. Last night and this morning were wonderful, don't get me wrong. But it doesn't wipe out the last 17 years for you, does it? This is difficult for you and perhaps the shift, from student back to lover and wife, is too quick for you. What can I do to help you with this, Severus? Tell me. Please."
Snape sat quietly for a few moments. Then he rose and walked around the table to kneel in front of Hermione.
"Give me a few days, Hermione," he said, sighing. "I'm struggling with having you back in my life, back in my home, back in my bed. It's not easy for me, you are right."
No more words were said as the older wizard laid his head in his young wife's lap. Silently, she stroked his raven hair as they contemplated where life - and time - had brought them.
The breakfast quickly became a new, yet old, ritual for the pair. As a young, married couple with hurried lives - hurry to Oxford, hurry to the potions classroom, hurry to the official dinner in the Great Hall, hurry to start a family, hurry to do everything - they had made it a point of sharing a large, traditional English breakfast every morning. They both routinely had skipped lunch and felt obligated to eat dinner with the masses in the Great Hall every night, so it was their quiet time. It was becoming their quiet time yet again and that was both comforting and familiar.
Their days were spent together, as much as possible. Talking about books, talking about the baby, talking about anything and everything, really. They also took on the project of opening the second floor of Snape's quarters and making plans to reclaim it as living space. House elves scurried around them as they helped the couple clean the rooms. Winky took the painting of the rooms on as a special project, warding the floor below against the fumes for Hermione. Soon after Christmas, they would be able to move Snape and Hermione's things back in to their old bedroom. And Snape, despite knowing they needed to slow things down for at least a little while, was looking forward to that day. He was aching to claim his wife again physically - and was also looking forward to 'christening' their old bedroom, and the bath, and the nursery, and the upstairs guest room and any other room in the castle he could get access to, for that matter. Having trouble keeping his hands off of her, he would frequently stop their work or their chats and take Hermione in his arms, kissing her until they were both breathless.
It was almost enough.
The morning of Christmas Eve, Snape was just stepping out of the shower as he heard Hermione enter his quarters and call for him.
"I'll be out in just a minute!" he replied, from the bathroom. "We had a dung bomb incident this morning in Slytherin. Why anyone thinks dung bombs are appropriate Christmas gifts for children, I do not know. But I absolutely had to shower again after getting out of the Common Room."
Hermione laughed and set about summoning a House Elf to bring them breakfast. Her stomach was doing flips, so she decided that dry toast and herbal tea would do the job for her. She ordered Snape's favorite, French toast with strawberry syrup and whipped cream, for him - smiling at the sickeningly sweet plate when it arrived. Who would have ever guessed that her 'meat and potatoes man' of the past had developed a sweet tooth? Not to mention what the students would think of his pink and white, rather frothy, favorite breakfast. She laughed again and set the table with a swish of her wand. As a final Christmasy touch, she added a centerpiece of greenery and red roses.
Arms slid around her waist in a gentle hug as Snape snuck up behind her to nuzzle her throat. She leaned back into the embrace and drew one hand up to entangle in his still-damp hair as they relaxed and basked in each other's presence. One of his hands drifted to her stomach for a caress and Hermione briefly wondered if he could follow her around all day and do that - it was the first time since she had awoken that she didn't feel like throwing up.
"You smell absolutely wonderful," Snape said, after a moment of silence.
Hermione chuckled.
"I would take that as a compliment if I didn't know you had been sniffing dung bombs all morning," she said, turning around and swatting him playfully on the arm.
He bent down and pressed a light kiss on her lips, gasping in slight shock as she leapt into the kiss and suddenly pressed into him, exploring his body roughly with her hands and his mouth with her tongue.
'Ah,' he thought, vaguely. 'Pregnancy hormones. Not bad, that.'
Giving in and deciding that the 'slow' approach to the physical side of their relationship was highly overrated, he returned her fevered caresses and began slowly easing them toward the couch. She had just torn his half- buttoned shirt from his damp chest and began working on his trousers when they reached their destination. He eased her onto the couch and began working on her robes - just as she lurched to a sitting position and looked at him with horror written across her face.
"Hermione?" he asked, rubbing his jaw where she had cracked him as she sat up. "What is wrong?"
She suddenly bolted for the bathroom, leaving a very stunned and aroused Severus Snape sitting on the couch and listening to his wife's muffled retching. Sighing, he went back to the table and grabbed her cup of tea before following her into the bathroom so he could hold back her hair and help her wipe her flushed face.
After all, wasn't that what husbands were supposed to do, he thought.