In something of a daze, Hermione left the Hospital Wing and drifted back
towards Gryffindor tower. She'd said yes. She was actually going to marry
Severus Snape. The Fat Lady opened for her, though she could not honestly
remember saying the password. Inside the Common Room, various students
just returned from afternoon classes sprawled on the furniture, talking
about their holiday plans and complaining about their homework.
Harry noticed the shell-shocked expression on Hermione's face the moment she came into the room and immediately left the Quidditch discussion he'd been having with his fifth-year Chaser and came to her side.
"Are you all right? What's wrong?"
"I need to talk to you," she murmured, feeling somewhat sick to her stomach.
With a quick glance around the room, Harry put an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the stairs and up towards his dorm, hoping no self- appointed wit would decide to question why the Head Girl was going up the boy's side of the staircase. Fortunately his dorm was empty, and he quickly shut and locked the door.
"What is it?"
"I said yes," Hermione blurted out.
Harry blinked and pushed up his glasses. "About what?"
"About getting married. I said yes. I'm going to marry Severus Snape."
"Oh," he replied, when he managed to close his mouth.
"Is that all you can say?" she snapped. "Harry, I'm going to get married. Say something!"
"Sorry, it's just the shock," he said, scruffing his fingers through his hair. "That and getting smacked in the face with my own advice."
"You're not going to try and talk me out of it, are you? It was your idea to begin with."
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes. No. I'm not sure." Hermione crossed her arms and began to pace back and forth.
Harry's eyebrows went up and down as her posture caused the baggy school robes to outline her rounded form. "Wow," he murmured. "You really are pregnant."
That remark earned him a withering look of disdain, interrupted by a pounding on the door. "Oi! Who locked the ruddy door! Alohomora!"
Ron's scowling face poked in the room. "Harry, if you're in here shagging my sister, you're dead."
"I'm not shagging your sister!" an exasperated Harry shouted. "Why does everyone think I'm shagging Ginny?"
"Well if you're not, you're doing something wrong," Ron replied in typical Weasley logic. He stopped short when he saw Hermione. "All right then, Hermione?"
"Not really," she told him. "Ron, we need to talk."
"Amazing. I've been trying to talk to you for weeks, and now you decide it's time." The redhead flung himself on his bed and shoved his pillow under his arm. "All right then. Talk."
"Just a warning," Harry began. "You're not going to like it, so watch your temper."
Ron stared at Harry blankly, as if to say 'what temper?'
Sinking down on the bed beside Harry, Hermione twisted her robe's edge in her fingers and wondered how to begin. Harry reached out and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and the warm strength reassured her enough to open her mouth and start talking.
Through it all, Ron's ocean-blue gaze never wavered, although Hermione had to glance away several times. When she finished, including her plan to marry Severus Snape the next day, she fell silent.
Ron had slowly sat back up during the tale, and now he stood. With abrupt savagery he turned and kicked the already-battered trunk at the foot of his bed, sending chess pieces flying from the board set up on its top surface. Hermione flinched, and Harry sprang to his feet. For several long moments, no one said anything.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me this, Hermione!" Ron's voice was deadly quiet, his fists clenched at his sides. "I can't believe you kept it a secret from me."
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset!" Hermione blurted out.
"UPSET!" Ron shouted. "OF COURSE I'm bloody upset! You sit there and tell me you're going to marry Professor sodding SNAPE! That you're going to have his baby? How could you not let me know this happened?"
"I didn't know myself until I found out I was pregnant! Dumbledore put a spell on me to make me forget."
"And that's another thing! What's Dumbledore think he's doing, going around throwing out Obliviates like that?"
"It wasn't an Obliviate," Harry objected.
"Shut it!" Ron told him. "He had no right!"
"Ron," pleaded Hermione. "Please don't hate me."
He stared at her. "Hate you? Hermione," he protested, "you're my best friend. We're supposed to trust each other, no matter what." His eyes slid from hers as he realized the hypocrisy of his words, and he folded his arms across his chest as several long moments passed.
Eventually Ron dragged himself to her side and sat down reluctantly on the end of the bed. "I always knew we wouldn't last," he told her, his voice gone gravelly. "I really was in love with you. I just didn't want to admit we weren't perfect together."
"I never wanted to hurt you, Ron," Hermione croaked out. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I'm sorry I've been such a prat." His head drooped down as he sighed. "I just want my best friend back."
"I'm right here," Harry objected.
Ron grinned at him momentarily over Hermione's head, but he reached out a tentative hand and put it on her arm. "Anything you need from me, Hermione. I mean it."
On the other side of her, Harry joined them and put his arm around her as well. "Me, too. You know that."
"I know," Hermione said with a sniff as her tears finally spilled out. "Oh, honestly! Look at us!"
"Yeah," warned Harry. "If Dean sees us like this, he'll never let us live it down."
"Dean can sod off," Ron declared, giving Hermione a hug. The three of them squished together, silly grins percolating from the tears.
"So you're really going to marry that git?" Ron said suddenly. "Weird. Better you than me, I suppose."
"You aren't his type," Hermione managed with damp dignity. "And he's really not that bad."
"Well, I always knew Snape had a lot of brass to spy on Voldemort," Harry told her. "But marrying you? He's a braver man than I am."
Hermione's elbow contacted Harry's rib at approximately the same time Ron smacked him on the back of the head, and they all three burst into laughter.
*****
Feeling as though the world had been lifted off her shoulders, Hermione bid the Fat Lady good afternoon and turned towards her own rooms, only to meet Professor McGonagall. The stern witch had an odd expression on her face.
"If I might have a word with you, my dear?"
"Of course," Hermione responded. To her surprise, the deputy headmistress took Hermione's arm and strolled with her down the stone hallway.
"I've just had a rather shocking conversation with the Headmaster, Miss Granger."
"Yes," Hermione managed in a somewhat strangled voice.
"He tells me you're going to be married tomorrow." Minerva McGonagall patted Hermione's captive hand. "Now, I've known Albus for many years, and he's not above pulling the wool over my eyes now and then with a tall tale."
"It's true," Hermione supplied in a rush. "I'm sorry I never told you, Professor."
"Oh, my dear girl," Minerva said with feeling. "Don't be sorry. I can only imagine how difficult things must have been for you. I'm not entirely sure I agree with you marrying Severus, but I can't think of any better alternative."
"I can't say I'm entirely enthusiastic about it, myself," Hermione confessed, "but I do think it's the right thing to do."
"No, you're never entirely sure," Minerva said with a reminiscent smile. "I remember the lad I was to marry. Perfectly mad for him, I was, but every now and then I couldn't help wondering if I were making the right decision."
Hermione couldn't help asking. "What happened?"
"The war happened, my dear. The Great War, they called it, before we had another just like it. His name was William, and he died at Galipoli."
"Galipoli?" She'd never heard of wizards dying in Muggle battles. "Wasn't he a wizard?"
"No, he was a Muggle," confirmed Minerva. "And when he died, well, I just never found anyone else. Hogwarts has been my life ever since. But we're discussing your wedding, not mine, and I have a gift for you."
"Oh, that's not necessary," she protested, only to be shushed by her Head of House.
"Nonsense. I'll have the house-elves deliver it to your room this evening." She paused there in the hallway, looking at her, then reached out and fondly patted Hermione's face. "It always comes as a bit of a surprise when my Gryffindors grow up. It seems as though you were only Sorted yesterday, and here you are, getting married."
Minerva sniffed quickly but smiled. "I don't deny that I hope you'll return here to teach someday, but I do hope you make a grand life for yourself outside these walls before then. Even if you are marrying a Slytherin." Her mouth twitched, and if Hermione hadn't suspected the enmity between the Heads was exaggerated before, she did now.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione told her, and surprised them both by leaning forward and giving the older witch a quick kiss on the cheek. "It means a lot to me to have your approval."
"Oh, go on with you," Minerva told her. "You've much to do, and I shouldn't keep you."
"I do need to find Ginny Weasley."
"Try the dining hall, and then perhaps Harry Potter's dorm," Minerva suggested with some asperity. "The girl's as bad as her mother ever was."
*****
A quiet but insistent knocking on her door woke Hermione at an obscenely early hour the next morning. She dispelled the security ward with a grumble and collapsed back into her pillows, vowing to cause bodily harm to her bridesmaid. As soon as she woke up.
"Wake up, wake up!" Ginny caroled, ignoring a sleepy glare from both Hermione and Crookshanks. "It's your wedding day!"
"It's not even day yet," Hermione protested, looking out at the gray sky outside her window.
"Nonsense. It's just overcast. We need to get you ready," Ginny declared, putting down an armload of various things.
Hermione regarded the pile with some suspicion. "What is all that?"
"Oh, some flowers I begged off Professor Sprout, a cloak I've borrowed from one of my dorm mates, a dress for me. Which reminds me - do you know what you're going to wear? It doesn't have to be white, not for a Handfasting."
Yawning, Hermione nodded towards her wardrobe. "Professor McGonagall sent me something. I think it's the one she bought for her own wedding, and it's lovely, but not quite what I had in mind."
Ginny opened the door and let out a gasp. "It's a chiton," she breathed. Draped from a padded hanger was a white gown. The under layer was a heavy white silk sheath, while the overdress was a dreamy layer of sheer white silken gauze, heavily embroidered with flowers and leaves.
"It's a tube," Hermione told her. "I tried it on - took me ages to figure out how to fasten the shoulder brooches."
"Does it fit?" Ginny asked as she examined the gown, all business once again.
"Just. It bunches ever so slightly around the middle."
"Well, we can probably let it out a bit if necessary, it's got nice wide seam allowances," Ginny told her. If she'd learned nothing else living in a large family, it was how to adjust clothing to make them do for another person. "I can't believe how beautiful this is, Hermione. A lot of witches don't bother with these anymore, they're just too costly, but chitons are very traditional dresses for Handfastings. They go back centuries."
"Well, they would, wouldn't they?" Hermione pointed out, propping herself up on the bed.
Ginny just shook her head. "The thing is, you don't wear anything but the dress to a Handfasting. No knickers, nothing."
"Bare?" Hermione asked in disbelief. She'd bought some new panties at the lingerie store, and while she had to confess they were more comfortable, as they were designed to go over a full term belly, they were absolutely enormous and hardly what she'd wear under a wedding dress. Still, she wasn't sure she was ready to go commando.
"Well, nowadays the joke is that it's so you can get to the afters quicker, but really it's about being one with the earth, fertility and all that. And you don't wear shoes, either."
"Well, we hardly need worry about the fertility part, do we?" she said dryly, running a hand over the bulge.
Under Ginny's prodding and over her own objections, Hermione was put in a bathtub and had her hair washed for her. "It's traditional," she was told, though she wondered how much was really tradition and how much was Ginny channeling her mother. Once out, she was dried, lotioned, wrapped in her bathrobe and her hair combed out with some goo produced from the flotsam her friend had brought in with her.
Sitting on her bed, Hermione petted Crookshanks while Ginny knelt on the covers behind her, armed with a brush and a box of hairpins. In between demands for the other comb and another pin, Ginny chattered and answered Hermione's questions about the upcoming ceremony.
"So, it's perfectly legal for Dumbledore to perform the ceremony?"
"Oh, absolutely. He's a Grand Sorcerer. Any member of the Sorcerer's Guild is legal, and the Headmaster's quite a bit higher than that. All he has to do is put it down on a parchment. Someone will have to send it to the Ministry, so it's registered and all, but that's how it's done. Comb," she commanded, holding out her hand.
Hermione handed it back, wincing as another lock of hair was pulled. "And what if we decide we hate each other? Is there a way to, well, divorce him? Am I allowed?"
"My, aren't you romantic, talking divorce on your wedding day."
"I'm just being practical," Hermione defended herself, not needing her friend's comments to add to the awful sensation that had just crept into her stomach.
"Yes," Ginny answered. "You keep the ribbon from the ceremony, and if you want him to push off, you give him the chopped-up ribbon and send off one piece of it to the Ministry, so they can attach it to your divorce decree. Actually, any old ribbon will do, I think."
A light tapping came at Hermione's door, and the young women looked at each other.
"Bugger," swore Ginny, dropping the strands of hair to dangle around Hermione's face as she went to open the door.
A deep voice on the other side of the door, quietly asking to see her, told Hermione who it was. Pulling her bathrobe more tightly around herself, she went to stand beside Ginny, who discreetly withdrew.
"Good morning," Severus told her.
"Good morning," she replied, somewhat shyly. "Is anything wrong?"
"Everything's fine. I simply wanted to get your approval on something."
In his hand was a black velvet box, obviously from a wizard jeweler. On the lid, small bits of gold joined up to form the words 'Will you marry me?' before dissolving into a cascade of celebratory fireworks. All in all, very optimistic box.
Hermione made no move to take it. "If that's got a silver and emerald ring in it, you can jolly well hang it in your nose," she warned him.
A faint smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Platinum only comes in one color, Hermione. And since I refuse to give my bride rubies, I compromised and chose a sapphire."
Severus opened the box for her as he spoke, and Hermione swallowed when she saw the ring. The central stone was the size of her little fingernail and a deep, fiery blue, flanked by triangular diamonds only a bit smaller. Without asking permission, he reached down and captured her left hand, plucked the ring from its home in the black velvet and slid it onto her ring finger. It tingled for a moment, then contracted to fit perfectly.
"Can you afford this?" she blurted out. He laughed, low and intimate, his fingers toying with the stones on the ring.
"Don't worry," Severus told her. "I've a little laid by." With the faintest tug on her captive hand, he pulled her close enough to lean down and brush a swift kiss across her lips. "I'll see you soon." Hermione barely felt the ring slide off her finger as he reclaimed it and put it back in the box.
Somewhat dazed, she closed the door behind his retreating back and leaned against it. When she looked up, it was to see a speculative look on Ginny's face.
"You know, it's odd," her friend said. "Snape looks a bit like Victor Krum."
"Oh, really now!" Hermione objected, collecting her scattered wits.
"No, really! Victor was tall, and had dark hair, and he had a big nose," Ginny pointed out.
"Victor Krum walked like a duck," Hermione retorted, thinking of Severus Snape's stealthy, silent stride. "Not to mention he couldn't brew a potion to save his life! All he ever wanted was to play Quidditch and design brooms. You know, I broke up with him when he kept asking me about charms to make his broom go faster!"
"I thought you broke up with him because you were crushing on my idiot brother."
"Well, that too," Hermione admitted, allowing Ginny to push her back down and submitting to the continuing hair torture.
"I love my brother, Hermione, but he honestly needs to grow up a bit before he gets serious with a girl. He's older than Harry, but Harry's ten times more mature."
"Someone's been trying to kill Harry since he was a baby. That tends to cause one to focus."
A mumbled something that sounded like irritated agreement came from around a mouthful of hairpins.
"Can I ask you something?" Hermione ventured. Another affirmative sound told her to go ahead. "When did you know you were in love with Harry?"
Ginny removed the hairpins from her mouth, causing Hermione to devoutly hope she wouldn't end up with spit-covered pins in her hair. "Do you mean before or after I spent years making a complete idiot of myself?"
"After the idiot part."
"Well." Ginny paused, thinking. "I think it was last summer at the Burrow. Harry and Ron were scrimmaging with the twins in the back paddock, and when they were done he came down and sat with me."
She gave a wry smile, which brought a mischievous twinkle to her brown eyes. "Mind you, I'd have rather he sat downwind, but it was really nice. We were just talking, you know? And for a while there, the rest of the world was just gone. He was everything to me." A blush rose on her cheeks, but she continued. "And even now, whenever he comes close to me, it's as though every inch of my skin is aware of him."
Hermione could only hope that her own cheeks weren't reddening as she remembered how her body reacted in proximity to Snape's. Preoccupied, she didn't notice Ginny frowning.
"Hermione," she asked hesitantly, "why are you marrying Snape?"
"Because I'm going to have his baby."
"That's not an answer." Ginny fiddled with another lock of hair. "Do you like him?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. He's very. interesting," Hermione said. "And I - I'm attracted to him," she confessed.
"Thought so," Ginny said smugly. "All right, I've done my worst. Let's get the dress."
"Wouldn't it have been easier to put on the dress and then do my hair?" complained Hermione several minutes later, from somewhere under several yards of silk. Her hand emerged from the folds of fabric, only to be pushed back in by Ginny.
"No, because you'd have gotten the dress all wrinkled from sitting on it." Ginny maneuvered the neck opening to find Hermione's head.
"That's what anti-wrinkle charms are for," came the muffled reply. At last Hermione's limbs came out the proper aperture, and Ginny carefully guided the shoulder brooches and neckline of the gown over the hairstyle on which she'd just spent a painstaking hour or more. The long, curly mass had been tamed by the dressing Ginny had combed through it, and now hung in shiny corkscrew tendrils down her back. A portion had been gathered at the temples and woven into a braided coronet, leaving only a few strands to drape gracefully across her cheek.
Hermione blew at one irritably and glared at her friend. "Are you sure I can't wear anything under here? It's going to be a bit chilly, you know, and I don't fancy everyone knowing just how cold I am." A chin jerk in the direction of her cleavage left Ginny with no doubts as to what her objection was.
"Don't worry, the embroidery will cover anything," Ginny replied impishly. "Besides, do you really want to wear this," and she grabbed Hermione's rather plain undergarments off the bed, "under that gorgeous dress?"
"No, I suppose not. They're not very attractive, are they?"
Ginny held up the brassiere and shrugged, but when the panties separated, her eyebrows rose to new heights. "Good heavens, Hermione. I've seen smaller market bags. These are enormous!"
"They're supposed to be," Hermione replied tartly. "They're made to go over a full term pregnancy, and they stretch like mad. The first time I put one on, I could tuck the waistband under my bra."
Ginny giggled, and Hermione managed a rueful smile. "They are awful, aren't they? Oh, Ginny," she said emotionally, "I can't tell you how glad I am you're doing this for me."
Recognizing a galloping case of nerves, Ginny dropped the ridiculous under- things and gave her best friend a warm hug. "I'm glad you asked, Herm. I know you'll do the same for me, some day."
"All right, enough of this," Ginny told her firmly, as though she weren't sniffling as well. "Time for flowers."
"Oh, I hadn't really planned on carrying a bouquet," Hermione objected as Ginny unearthed the carton of flowers.
"It's not for a bouquet, it's for your hair. Handfastings don't have to have a bouquet, but you can't get married without flowers in your hair."
"It's tradition," Hermione echoed with Ginny as the younger woman began snipping the stems with small flicks of her wand, the colored bursts of light reflecting off the white flowers.
"Speaking of tradition, who's Professor Snape going to have stand with him? It's supposed to be someone your own age, who's a friend or something like. Hold still!" she ordered as she began threading the flowers into the hair arrangement.
"Remus Lupin," Hermione supplied. "Who did you expect, Professor Flitwick?"
"I guess Sirius Black was out of the question," Ginny quipped.
"No," laughed Hermione. "Severus said he'd ask Harry to do it before he'd have Sirius Black."
Finished, Ginny stood back and examined the results. "Perfect. Now, you're already packed, right?" At Hermione's assurance that she was, Ginny tidied up the mess with several swift twists of her wand. "Then there's only one thing left to do."
The redheaded girl pulled out the chair at Hermione's study table. "Sit," she commanded. "Quill and ink. Write to your parents and tell them you're not going to be on the train this afternoon. Harry will be bringing Hedwig down here soon, and you're going to have a letter to send off by the time I've finished changing."
"Oh, Ginny. What on earth am I going to say to them?"
"Don't know, but you'd better have it down by the time I've finished my hair, or I'll do it for you."
"You wouldn't!" A look at Ginny's firm expression told Hermione she most certainly would. "Bossy cow," Hermione muttered as she found a spare quill.
"My best friend showed me how," Ginny sang out as she disappeared into the bath with her dress.
Faced with the threat of her friend's blunt deadline, Hermione finally dug out her many half-started letters and draft a woefully short dispatch to her parents, informing them that she was would be marrying the father of their grandchild in a few short hours. She assured them she hadn't been seduced by one of her teachers, but left out the details. On the whole she found it preferable that they thought her careless rather than a victim of violence. She signed off with an apology and a promise to come and see them soon. When soon would arrive, she wasn't sure.
With the finished letter folded and sealed, Hermione sat at her desk and toyed with the small brass seal. It had been a birthday gift from Ron, and was a simple cursive 'H' surrounded by a wreath of what might have been flowers, leaves, or quite possibly hoofprints. It was rather hard to tell.
She turned it over in her fingers, listening to the sound of Ginny swearing half-heartedly in the bath as she dropped something. In her womb, the baby moved gently, and she ran a hand over the spot. She wasn't huge yet, but she could no longer be mistaken for anything but pregnant. For just one moment she was tempted to tear off the beautiful gown and run screaming down the corridor, denying the looming fate ahead of her and refusing to accept the way her life had somehow spun out of her control.
Since the day Madame Pomfrey had diagnosed her flu-like symptoms as a pregnancy, Hermione had felt she'd lost charge of her life. Where once she'd made rational, sensible decisions regarding the benefits of taking Ancient Runes over Advanced Arithmancy, she was now continually being forced to choose between less and less appealing options. Was marrying Severus Snape really the lesser of two evils?
Hermione had always wondered how impossibly thick her parents could be when they would look at each other and say they had no choice but to do something, whether it was expanding their surgery or replacing the worn furniture in their sitting room. They're grown-ups, she'd thought. Of course they have a choice. Only now was she appreciating the fact that being an adult meant navigating your way though more and more narrow divides, making choices whose results would never be clear cut.
An orange blur abruptly jumped onto the table beside her and gave out a 'mrrw' as he settled on the corner. His buzzing purr increasing as she reached out and scratched his ears, prevented from scooping him up for a cuddle by the thought of the telling off she'd get from Ginny for putting orange cat hairs on her gown. He sniffed at the brass seal and batted it with his paw, pushing it over.
"You'll be a good boy for the house-elves, won't you, Crooks?" she asked. A lazy flick of his bottlebrush tail seemed to say he'd consider the notion. She petted him firmly, hoping he'd be as understanding when she returned after the holiday. A holiday she'd be spending with Severus.
"I'm getting married, old son," she whispered to him, "You'll no longer be the only man in my life."
Crookshanks gave her a head-butt for more petting, supremely unconcerned about his loss in status. Biting her lip, Hermione considered what else her cat might lose - namely sole right to occupy the other half of Hermione's bed. Ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach, Hermione tried to be logical as she considered the possibility of sharing her bed with Severus. She was honest enough with herself to grant that the idea wasn't horrid. Not in the least. The memory of his kiss the day before and the quick repeat just hours ago led her to believe that he might not consider her repellent, either.
He'd offered Hermione a marriage of convenience, allowing her to take a lover if she chose to do so. While she was certain she didn't want that, she wasn't sure exactly what she DID want. Or what he wanted. And the thought of discussing it with him like rational, reasonable adults made her more than a little queasy.
"Aren't you finished yet?" Ginny demanded from the doorway to the bath, startling her. The younger woman wore a set of blue dress robes Hermione recognized from the previous year's Yule Ball, but they'd been altered a bit, the gold snowflakes charmed into a band of Celtic knot-work along the hem. The waterfall of red hair had been left to hang in artfully loose curls that must have taken her ages to create.
"Yes, I'm done. I'm just thinking."
"About what?"
"Sex," Hermione said frankly.
Ginny grinned and all but skipped across the room to perch on the edge of the study table, giving Crookshanks a shove and a petting at the same time. "What about it?"
"Have you slept with Harry yet?"
A faint blush rose in Ginny's cheeks, but she smiled. "Not yet. Ask me again after the hols are over. I have plans."
"Virginia Weasley!" Hermione scolded, laughing. "What would your mother say?"
"I won't tell you what she says, but I know now where Ron gets it from. Though from what I hear, my dad didn't have a chance in Hades when she decided he was the chap for her."
"Well, whatever you do, DON'T forget your Contraceptus potion."
"With my family history?" she snorted. "Not bloody likely."
A rather timid knock on the door sent Ginny scurrying over to open it and immediately kiss the young man standing outside.
"Honestly, Gin," Ron complained. "Give him a chance to come inside!" He rudely pushed his entwined friend and sister and entered the room, only to stop abruptly, his mouth hanging open, as he saw Hermione stand up. The shoulder bags he carried in either hand, each with a broomstick strapped to the back, dropped to the floor.
"Wow," he wheezed.
"Hermione...you look fabulous," Harry told her. Ginny promptly smacked his shoulder. "You look great, too," he added hastily, looking his girlfriend over. She gave him a quick, forgiving kiss.
On his other arm, Hedwig ruffled her wings together as her balance was upset and gave the redheaded girl a yellow-eyed look of reproach. With a few strong flaps of her white wings, the owl glided to a perch on the back of the chair Hermione had just vacated and presented a scaly leg. She held still while Hermione rolled the letter to her parents into a cylinder and tied it on.
"Hedwig," Harry addressed his owl as he lifted her from her perch once more and opened the single window with his other hand. "Please take this letter to Hermione's parents. You've been there often, remember? Where Hermione lives during the summer?"
The owl blinked once, then bated her wings once launched off Harry's arm, dove out the window and quickly disappeared from sight.
"Well, that's done," Harry told them. "We'd better get going. Professor Dumbledore told us to walk you two down to the village before the rest of the students leave for the train station."
With the light hood of the borrowed cloak covering Hermione's head, the four of them slipped out of the castle, avoiding any of the students, and walked down the long lane towards Hogsmeade. April did not equal bonny spring in Scotland, and Hermione drew the cloak tightly around her to ward of the chill.
They walked in silence until they reached the edge of the village, where Harry told them he'd been given the address of a cottage, and instructions to take the girls there and leave them.
"I think Professor Dumbledore owns it, but he doesn't live there any longer. And I'm really sorry we can't stay for the ceremony. Too many people would talk if all four of us are missing on the train."
Bypassing the shopping district, Harry led the way to a residential street. Further down and around a small curve, the newer Tudor-style houses gave way to smaller stone cottages. On either side of the avenue, each home had a long front garden accessed by a gate. The gates were as individual as the house, and the name of the house was usually on a plaque beside it.
"Lemon Drop Cottage," read Ron with disbelief as he dropped Hermione and Ginny's bags to the ground.
"This is it," Harry said unnecessarily. He opened the gate for them and, to her surprise, gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Hermione murmured, looking up at her friend. She realized anew how much they'd all matured over the last year. Harry was now much taller than she, and when had his voice deepened so much?
He turned to Ginny and put his arms around her, and Hermione looked away to see Ron watching at her, his blue eyes brimming with feeling. She felt some of the same bittersweet emotions rising to choke her, especially when he leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth, sweet and tender and tasting mostly of goodbye.
"Good luck, Hermione. I love you. You know that, don't you?"
"I love you too, Ron."
Ron squeezed her hand briefly before stepping back, and after a moment of waiting on Harry and Ginny, gave his best friend a hard shove on the shoulder.
"Keep that up and we'll miss the train."
"All right," Harry mumbled as he gave Ginny one last quick kiss.
Hitching up their shoulder bags, the two young men strode back up the street. A train whistle cut though the morning air, and they broke into a run, their broomsticks bouncing on their backs, and gave one last wave goodbye over their shoulders.
Inside the gate the garden was warm, and Hermione could feel the subtle tingle of magic in the charm that filled the air with a sweet scent of early summer. Ginny stopped and toed off her shoes, her green-painted toes wiggling in the cool, frost-seared grass of the garden. Following her lead, Hermione lifted the hem of her gown and did likewise.
Watching from the door of the cottage, Remus Lupin called out "They're here," to someone inside and came down the walk to greet them. Instead of his usual robes, he wore a rather faded brown shirt, untucked, over a pair of brown trousers. He, too, had foregone his footwear, and to no real surprise possessed rather large and hairy feet.
Severus stopped dead in the doorway as he saw Hermione at the end of the garden walk, and for a single instant, he thought a nymph had somehow found her way to Dumbledore's cottage. A crown of white flowers had been fastened in her honey-brown hair, which cascaded in elegant spirals over her shoulders. Delicate collarbones were framed by the neckline of the white gown. The rich fabric left her arms bare but flowed over her body, lovingly outlining her curves and lightly draping over the slight prominence of her pregnancy.
"Severus, my boy, you're blocking the door."
Scowling at his own inept reaction and the Headmaster's obvious amusement, Severus moved out of Dumbledore's way. The older wizard joined Remus in welcoming the young women, leaving his former Potions Master to follow behind. Ginny immediately began questioning her former DADA teacher, asking after Sirius Black and drawing the normally quiet man into an animated conversation.
Hermione accepted the welcoming noises from Dumbledore, but watched her future husband descend the step, scowling. He wore his usual black trousers and white shirt, though the shirt was untucked and his scowl was more pronounced than usual. She wondered nervously what had upset him. Knowing he'd spent the morning with Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, she thought the odds of it being something she'd done were slim.
Dumbledore peered up at the man as he finally joined the rest of the group on the lawn. "With a scowl like that, Severus, one would guess you were facing a firing squad."
"It's your wedding day, man," Remus told him. "Surely one smile won't kill you."
His half-lidded eyes told Hermione he was not amused at the teasing.
"Well, Hermione," said Dumbledore prosaically, "if he doesn't cheer up, you can always marry Remus here."
"Only if he brought his dueling wand with him," Severus interjected.
"It's all right, Professor. I've gotten used to the scowling." Hermione replied. "And his sarcasm's easy enough to ignore, once you've got the hang of it."
With an approving smile, Dumbledore removed his hat and tucked it under his belt, revealing a freckled scalp where his silvery white hair had gone thin in the back. He caught Hermione glancing at the hem of his robes and lifted the hem to show off a dry, horny-soled bare foot with knobby toes. Remus, his own gray hairs glinting slightly in the sunlight, gave a significant look to the boots on Severus' feet.
With a suffering expression the man kicked them off, and quickly stepped on each black sock in turn to remove them. "You were expecting cloven hooves, Miss Weasley?" he commented to Ginny, who simply grinned.
"You have the ring?" Dumbledore asked Remus, who held up his little finger. A glitter between his first and second knuckle attested to the ring's presence.
"The ribbon?"
Ginny unwrapped a length of ribbon from her wrist and held it up.
"Excellent. Then, if the bride and groom are ready?" He looked at Severus and Hermione over his glasses. Severus gave a curt nod.
"There is one thing," Hermione whispered to her soon-to-be husband.
He frowned at her, suddenly concerned. "What is it?"
"You do realize I come with a cat?"
His eyebrow lifted. "Yes, I was aware that orange monster was yours. I'd love to sic him on Mrs. Norris some day."
"All right, then." Stifling an all-too-inappropriate giggle, Hermione faced Dumbledore and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She was ready.
Dumbledore gestured to them, chivying them to form a loose circle. To Hermione's surprise, the old wizard began to speak in a serious tone, his trademark twinkle disappearing as he asked the witnesses to attest to the free will of the participants. Later, she could not remember the exact words the sorcerer used to ask her to swear herself to Severus, only that he had not spoken of love or romance, but rather loyalty, honor, and responsibility. His usually genial voice deepened until the ground seemed to tremble under Hermione's feet.
After the vows, Severus took the ring from Remus and slid it onto Hermione's finger. When he released her left hand, Ginny took it. Severus took her right hand, and she saw him clasp Remus' without embarrassment. Dumbledore took the ribbon from Ginny and wove the ribbon around Severus and Hermione's clasped hands, then took Ginny and Remus' hands in his own, completing the circle.
Not a circle, she thought, but a pentacle, the ancient symbol of protection. Invoked by a sorcerer of Dumbledore's power, it was nothing to be taken lightly. Belatedly she realized that the ground WAS trembling beneath her in response to the headmaster's words as he called on the very earth and air to bear witness to the marriage.
For years she'd heard that Albus Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, but she had never witnessed any aspect of him other than the warm and puckish headmaster. Now, here in a dormant garden under a cold spring sky, she caught a glimpse of the wizard who made Voldemort nervous, a seasoned mage who had battled evil on an unbelievable scale for more than a century.
All too soon it was over and Dumbledore, his merry twinkle firmly back in place, was kissing her on the cheek, shaking Snape's hand and calling out congratulations. He ushered them all inside, where the Hogwarts house- elves had left a cold lunch and small cakes covered with powdered sugar. With the meal Dumbledore poured out a bottle of mead, Hermione's glass holding little more than a splash to observe the formalities.
The mead had a strong, dry flavor Hermione didn't particularly care for. Most of the toasts went past her without much notice. She was preoccupied with the fact that Severus, her husband of less than two hours, was sitting opposite her, absently toying with his food and speaking very little. The luncheon dragged on interminably, though Ginny enjoyed herself fully as Dumbledore and Remus took turns subtly baiting the groom.
All too soon, Ginny lit a fire in the massive stone fireplace and gave her a final hug before she Floo'ed to the Burrow. The three men begged her pardon as they excused themselves and disappeared into the empty study. The door closed with a solid click, and Hermione knew perfectly well they were discussing Severus' future spying activities.
Left to her own devices, she puttered about the cottage. She found the single bedroom when she went in search of the loo, which fortunately had up to date plumbing. She decided not to think about that just at the moment and continued exploring, discovering a tiny kitchen that was even more antiquated than the Weasleys' and startling the house-elf wearing a Hogwarts tea towel toga. The elf, one Hermione did not know personally, was horrified when she offered to help clear the dishes. Instead she was presented with a cup of tea she didn't really want and shooed back out into the sitting room.
Twisting the new ring on her finger, Hermione wandered around the room investigating. The house had a decidedly unlived-in air, and contained few clues that indicated Albus Dumbledore had ever lived here. One photo on the wall displayed a barely recognizable Dumbledore and a young woman. Even though the image was in black and white, Dumbledore's beard was obviously darker and fairly short. The woman wore traditional witch's robes, which made it hard to gauge the era, but she judged the photo to be nearly fifty years old.
Eventually, Hermione selected a book from the pile that had obviously been taken from the study and never returned and settled in front of the fire Ginny had lit. The chair was squashy and quite comfortable, and she dozed off without realizing it.
Pointedly ignoring Remus' last minute comments, no matter how well intentioned, Severus finally shut the door on the departing werewolf and went to find his wife. The discussion in Dumbledore's study had gone on far longer than anticipated, but Severus had been just fine with that. However, once the business had been completed, he'd been beset from both sides with thinly-veiled, well-intentioned advice that irritated the hell out of him. Bad enough that he didn't know where he'd be sleeping that night; he hardly needed prodding from a career bachelor and a man who was nearly a century older than himself.
A quick search located Hermione curled up in a chair, her cheek propped on the heel of her hand. Wishing for something stronger, Severus emptied the last of the mead into a glass. He grimaced at the sweetness as he took the chair opposite Hermione's and leaned back heavily to watch her sleep. She needed more rest as her body supported the child growing within her, he knew, and he worried that she'd been neglecting herself again. She hadn't eaten much at lunch.
In her sleep, she shifted, and the book in her lap slid perilously close to the edge of her lap. Severus leaned forward and took it, but the slight movement woke her.
Hermione lifted her head and blinked, looking at the book in her husband's hand. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. What time is it?" Her stomach growled rudely.
"It's time to feed you again," he commented, holding out his hand. She took it and let him draw her up and lead her to the kitchen. The house-elf had disappeared and so wasn't present to object as Severus put a plate of cold sliced meat, some cheese, and a loaf of bread on the rickety wooden table and pulled out a chair for her. They ate in silence until he asked her if something was wrong.
"No, I was just thinking that today was very different than a Muggle wedding ceremony."
"How so?" he asked, taking up a knife and cutting another slice of bread.
"First of all, you're allowed to wear shoes."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"And, usually you're required to invite everyone you've ever met, and then feed them all. Can't say I miss that part. Though I do wish my parents had been here," she added.
"Of course you do," he said reasonably. "I'm sure your friends would have been here as well, if they'd had a choice in the matter."
"There's also usually a huge cake," Hermione went on. "The bride and groom cut it together, and then sometimes they feed each other the first bite."
"Sounds messy," Severus commented, firmly repressing the mental image of Hermione licking a dollop of frosting off his fingers.
"Well, some go mad and smash it on each other's faces, but that's rather tacky."
She shivered and pulled her chilled feet off the cold flagstone floor, intending to tuck them underneath her only to remember the costly gown. The warming charm had worn off the cottage, and the fire from the sitting room did little to fight the cool creeping in from outside.
"You're cold," Severus observed with a frown. "Where are your things?"
It took her a moment to remember, to her embarrassment, they'd been left outside. "I've think I've left them out in the garden, along with my shoes."
"I'll get them."
"But - " she protested.
"Consider it my first husbandly duty," he said dryly.
"They're by the gate," she called out.
He brought in the two small bags she'd packed, one the schoolbag with her holiday homework, the other slightly larger with clothes. He draped the cloak around her shoulders and resumed his meal.
"Severus?"
"Yes?"
"What do we do now?"
He did not answer immediately, finishing his bite and washing it down with the last of the mead. "That is entirely dependent on you. I had thought that we should become accustomed to each other's company, without Madame Pomfrey's inestimable contributions or the so-called wit of my colleagues."
He took her empty plate and added it to his own and put them both in the sink for the house-elf to deal with. Hermione took the glasses and silver to put beside the plates, fairly certain his efforts were more to avoid the subject than to help the housekeeper. Unsure herself of how to proceed, Hermione collected her borrowed cloak and went to the bags he'd deposited by the far wall.
His voice held a tinge of regret as he spoke behind her. "I realize this isn't the wedding young girls dream about."
"Not exactly," Hermione replied. "Although I hadn't ever given it a great deal of thought, really. There were always so many other things to worry about."
This certainly wasn't the most romantic of locations, in a ramshackle kitchen that could not even boast of an electric cooker. But Hermione's swirling doubts coalesced into a determination that even if she had lost control of her life, she could at the least prod it in the right direction. Gathering her courage, she stood and mimicked his posture, putting her hands behind her back and leaned against the stone wall just as he leaned back against the countertop.
The caress of the silk over her breasts was deliciously sensuous, sparking her nerves enough to say one more thing.
"I always imagined that when I married, my husband might be at least a little attracted to me."
Severus went entirely still, staring at Hermione as she raised her chin and met his eyes boldy. The light from the lamps brought out the blue-black glimmer in his hair as he tilted his head to one side, studying her. He took one step towards her.
"You think I don't want you?" he asked, his voice low. He took another slow step, and then another. "I've spent the last few weeks fixated on nothing but you." The kitchen was narrow, and he was quickly closing in on her.
"You were?" she blurted, then abruptly colored. "I must be completely thick."
Only an arm's-length separated them, and Severus was hard-pressed to maintain that distance against the urge that pulled at him like gravity. "I know you don't think of me as a romantic lover, Hermione. I'm quite aware of my shortcomings in that regard, not to mention more than a bit out of practice."
"I don't - I don't know what to think about you," she answered honestly. "You're not my old Potions teacher. I'm not sure who you are."
Hermione felt as though she could not take a full breath, pinned against the stone wall by only the weight of his gaze. His eyes were dark and vibrant, burning with an intensity she'd never seen in them before.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in towards her, lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his own, his lips gentle yet firm against hers.
"I'm your husband," he murmured, kissing her again, lightly, testing her reaction. One hand settled on her middle, his long fingers stirring slightly on the taut skin of her stomach, heat radiating from his palm as he cupped her belly. His other hand went to the wall beside her, causing her stomach to flutter in recognition of his larger size and undeniable masculine presence.
This time, Hermione lifted her mouth to his, cautiously tasting his lower lip. With a groan he pressed in against her, diving in for a deep, openmouthed kiss. The nearness of his body seemed to overwhelm her, the scent of skin and cotton and man rushing over her senses. She let her hands settled on his shoulders as he coaxed her mouth open. He'd never be accused of having broad shoulders, but his spare frame was solid and capable under her hands, and he was definitely NOT out of practice.
She was lost as that one hand caressed her swollen flesh possessively, curving around to find her waist, what was left of it, pulling her body closer to his. It was slightly awkward, but she wasn't so big that he couldn't bend her back, just a little, arching her in his arms. The world was shifting around her, even though the wall remained a solid anchor at her back. His breath shortened as he kissed her, long and lingering.
"Hermione," he groaned, his mouth skating down her cheek to the tender spot below her ear, reveling in the way she arched her neck to allow him access. "I swear to you...I won't do anything you don't want. I'll stop any time you say it."
The past few months of longing came crashing down on her, and now it was real. Severus Snape was her husband, and he was kissing her with a wholly unsuspected intensity. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth gently, learning the shape and taste of her, meeting her own tentative exploration and encouraging it. Her arms twined around his neck as she molded her body against his, feeling the heat and strength of him. It seemed perfectly right to surrender to him completely.
"Don't stop," she breathed, kissing the hollow of his throat and finding just where on his neck made him react. "I want you, Severus. I think I've wanted you for months. Make love to me, please?"
He drew back to gauge the sincerity in her eyes, his own glittering with need. Whatever words he would have spoken died before he could utter a more than an inarticulate sound, but his hands were strong and sure as they pulled her body against his before sweeping down and lifting her from the ground.
Severus had no conscious memory of the walk between the kitchen and the bedroom, but the sight of her as he laid her on the bed, her hair tousled and still caught with flowers, her lips red and swollen from his kisses, was one which he was certain would be branded into his memory forever. Impatient, he flung off the loose white shirt and knelt on the bed to kiss her again, shuddering as her hands skimmed over his chest, brushing the sparse black hairs on his lean chest, exploring the planes and ropy muscles of his arms.
It took more self-control that he wanted to admit to just lay down beside her and pull her closer. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her by rushing. She was warm and sweet under his mouth, returning his kisses with sighs and little moans while her fingers traced his neck and spine. He wasn't entirely aware of what his own hands were doing until he found the knee-high slit in her gown, her thigh warm and soft underneath. The thought of her naked under the gown sent blood pounding through his brain, and other places as well.
When she pulled back from him, he feared he'd gone too far until he saw her hands fumbling as she unfastened the brooch on her shoulder. The gauzy fabric whispered against her skin and caused a shiver as it collapsed down her back.
Severus took the jeweled pin from her and laid it on the table beside the bed, then, glancing at her for permission, unpinned its mate. The loose material caught on the swell of her breast, and she watched his hands lay the other pin down before he gently leaned down and kissed her again.
Try as he might to slow down, he nearly lost all semblance of control as the white silk slid down, revealing her. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted his wife at that moment. She gasped softly as he cupped her breast, the loose fabric falling further away from her curves as he touched her, and the sight of her bare breasts went though him like a shock. They were darker than he remembered, but he thrust that thought away as he bent his head and tasted them. This was her first time, regardless of the child that swelled her waistline. This was the first time a man made love to her, and if he had his way, she would always remember it.
Encouraged by her unsteady breathing and the restless hands that roved over his shoulders and into his hair as he worshiped her skin, Severus pushed the Handfasting gown down, gliding it over the roundness of her stomach and down her legs. She made a noise of protest and wrapped one arm over her exposed abdomen.
"What is it? He asked gently.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just feel so... fat."
"Hmmm." His soft black hair brushed her breasts as he drifted down to kiss the smooth cabochon rise of her belly. " When I look at you, other words come to mind. Ripe. Full. Exquisite." His mouth opened on her skin, drifting across her rounded form as though he could not get enough of her taste, more addictive than any drug.
He cradled her body with his, touching her with fleeting, stolen brushes against her skin. She touched his bare back and nearly moaned at the feel of it, smooth and silky with the hard underlay of muscle and bone. He was reluctant to use any of that strength on her until she pulled herself in against him, wanting to feel him. One daring hand into the back waistband of his trousers, and he pulled back enough to unbutton them himself.
At last his arms came around her, possessive, strong, and she felt both vulnerable and protected as he leaned over her. His hands on her breasts, sensitive and heavy with her condition, drew her arousal spiraling upward with only the mildest of caresses. The hot, wet suckling of his mouth began on her nipples, she thought she would orgasm from that alone.
Incandescent fire followed his fingers between her thighs, leaving her whimpering with need as he found her core. His large hands stroked without before delving gently within her heat, teasing her with a gentle exploration that left her gasping.
"Hermione! Do you want me?" he whispered urgently as he positioned himself over her.
Her thighs opened mindlessly as she reached for him. "Gods, yes. More than anything. Please!" she responded, arching up towards him, frantic for relief from the madness of arousal.
"Show me," he insisted in a ragged voice, nudging her wet folds. "Open for me."
It took a moment for what he was asking to register. Hermione's eyes locked with his as she trailed her fingers down his chest, down between their bodies, to spread herself for his invasion. There would never be any doubt in his mind that she wanted him at this moment.
He slid into her depths, his body shaking with his need. They groaned in unison.
She groped blindly for his shoulder, but Severus took her hand and licked the traces of moisture from her fingers. Her eyes widened at this, and the devilish grin he gave her in return reminded her again how little she knew about the man she now called husband, who even now made her body flare with desire. He kissed her mouth and plunged deeply into her.
The random thought that his back was going to ache horribly in the morning floated in the back of Severus' mind, but that was a negligible concern against the devastating pleasure of making love to Hermione Granger. Fuck that, Hermione Snape. His wife. Beautiful, clever wife, nearly six months gone with the pregnancy he was currently arched over, doing his best not to squash, fighting his hardest not to lose it as she cried out.
He slowed as he sensed her distress, using every shred of his self-control.
"I've got you," he whispered reassuringly she overcame the momentary panic. "You're safe." For half a moment he'd though she'd had a flash of memory, then remembered her pregnancy had made her entire body more sensitive. That sensitivity included the region where they were so intimately joined, and she'd no doubt been overwhelmed by the sensation of him moving inside her.
"Sorry," she murmured, unable to apologize more as he kissed her. His hands slipped under her shoulders, rocking into her gently while he braced himself on his elbows and cradled her in his arms. In little words and kisses he encouraged her to move with him, guiding the inexperienced movement of her hips.
Hermione surrendered to his lead, and he watched her for the signs, more intently than he'd ever watched any of his potions. When her mouth fell open in soundless gasps he leaned in to kiss her deeply as they both fell into the abyss and glorious release.
A sleepy protest was the first sound she made as he left her body, moving to one side and rolling her slightly so her head came to rest on his shoulder. Their legs remained entangled, her hand on his chest as she snuggled into his hold. She fell asleep almost immediately.
As she dozed off, Severus felt his heartbeat return to normal. He'd never been one to doze off after orgasm, though many men did. His encounters had been few and far between in the last years, and falling asleep was normally a dangerous idea. Now, however, he simply wanted to hold this incredible creature in his arms and convince himself this was real.
Gently, not wanting to wake her, he slid a palm along the rounded midriff, grazed the indent of her navel that was just about to give up the battle to remain and innie and become an outie instead. The drying sweat on his body reminded him that the cool night was creeping into the room. With a minimum of movement he summoned his wand and lit the fire before pulling the covers up over them both.
Still unwilling to sleep, he watched the young woman in his arms, removing a bruised flower petal from her tangled hair. His wife. His child. Things he'd long ago considered far beyond his reach. Years spent snarling at concepts he told himself he didn't want, since there was absolutely no chance in hell he'd ever have them. And yet here they were, in his arms.
Author's note: To see a picture of a chiton, go here: http://www.uky.edu/ArtsSciences/Classics/pics/p14.gif
Harry noticed the shell-shocked expression on Hermione's face the moment she came into the room and immediately left the Quidditch discussion he'd been having with his fifth-year Chaser and came to her side.
"Are you all right? What's wrong?"
"I need to talk to you," she murmured, feeling somewhat sick to her stomach.
With a quick glance around the room, Harry put an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the stairs and up towards his dorm, hoping no self- appointed wit would decide to question why the Head Girl was going up the boy's side of the staircase. Fortunately his dorm was empty, and he quickly shut and locked the door.
"What is it?"
"I said yes," Hermione blurted out.
Harry blinked and pushed up his glasses. "About what?"
"About getting married. I said yes. I'm going to marry Severus Snape."
"Oh," he replied, when he managed to close his mouth.
"Is that all you can say?" she snapped. "Harry, I'm going to get married. Say something!"
"Sorry, it's just the shock," he said, scruffing his fingers through his hair. "That and getting smacked in the face with my own advice."
"You're not going to try and talk me out of it, are you? It was your idea to begin with."
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes. No. I'm not sure." Hermione crossed her arms and began to pace back and forth.
Harry's eyebrows went up and down as her posture caused the baggy school robes to outline her rounded form. "Wow," he murmured. "You really are pregnant."
That remark earned him a withering look of disdain, interrupted by a pounding on the door. "Oi! Who locked the ruddy door! Alohomora!"
Ron's scowling face poked in the room. "Harry, if you're in here shagging my sister, you're dead."
"I'm not shagging your sister!" an exasperated Harry shouted. "Why does everyone think I'm shagging Ginny?"
"Well if you're not, you're doing something wrong," Ron replied in typical Weasley logic. He stopped short when he saw Hermione. "All right then, Hermione?"
"Not really," she told him. "Ron, we need to talk."
"Amazing. I've been trying to talk to you for weeks, and now you decide it's time." The redhead flung himself on his bed and shoved his pillow under his arm. "All right then. Talk."
"Just a warning," Harry began. "You're not going to like it, so watch your temper."
Ron stared at Harry blankly, as if to say 'what temper?'
Sinking down on the bed beside Harry, Hermione twisted her robe's edge in her fingers and wondered how to begin. Harry reached out and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and the warm strength reassured her enough to open her mouth and start talking.
Through it all, Ron's ocean-blue gaze never wavered, although Hermione had to glance away several times. When she finished, including her plan to marry Severus Snape the next day, she fell silent.
Ron had slowly sat back up during the tale, and now he stood. With abrupt savagery he turned and kicked the already-battered trunk at the foot of his bed, sending chess pieces flying from the board set up on its top surface. Hermione flinched, and Harry sprang to his feet. For several long moments, no one said anything.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me this, Hermione!" Ron's voice was deadly quiet, his fists clenched at his sides. "I can't believe you kept it a secret from me."
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset!" Hermione blurted out.
"UPSET!" Ron shouted. "OF COURSE I'm bloody upset! You sit there and tell me you're going to marry Professor sodding SNAPE! That you're going to have his baby? How could you not let me know this happened?"
"I didn't know myself until I found out I was pregnant! Dumbledore put a spell on me to make me forget."
"And that's another thing! What's Dumbledore think he's doing, going around throwing out Obliviates like that?"
"It wasn't an Obliviate," Harry objected.
"Shut it!" Ron told him. "He had no right!"
"Ron," pleaded Hermione. "Please don't hate me."
He stared at her. "Hate you? Hermione," he protested, "you're my best friend. We're supposed to trust each other, no matter what." His eyes slid from hers as he realized the hypocrisy of his words, and he folded his arms across his chest as several long moments passed.
Eventually Ron dragged himself to her side and sat down reluctantly on the end of the bed. "I always knew we wouldn't last," he told her, his voice gone gravelly. "I really was in love with you. I just didn't want to admit we weren't perfect together."
"I never wanted to hurt you, Ron," Hermione croaked out. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I'm sorry I've been such a prat." His head drooped down as he sighed. "I just want my best friend back."
"I'm right here," Harry objected.
Ron grinned at him momentarily over Hermione's head, but he reached out a tentative hand and put it on her arm. "Anything you need from me, Hermione. I mean it."
On the other side of her, Harry joined them and put his arm around her as well. "Me, too. You know that."
"I know," Hermione said with a sniff as her tears finally spilled out. "Oh, honestly! Look at us!"
"Yeah," warned Harry. "If Dean sees us like this, he'll never let us live it down."
"Dean can sod off," Ron declared, giving Hermione a hug. The three of them squished together, silly grins percolating from the tears.
"So you're really going to marry that git?" Ron said suddenly. "Weird. Better you than me, I suppose."
"You aren't his type," Hermione managed with damp dignity. "And he's really not that bad."
"Well, I always knew Snape had a lot of brass to spy on Voldemort," Harry told her. "But marrying you? He's a braver man than I am."
Hermione's elbow contacted Harry's rib at approximately the same time Ron smacked him on the back of the head, and they all three burst into laughter.
*****
Feeling as though the world had been lifted off her shoulders, Hermione bid the Fat Lady good afternoon and turned towards her own rooms, only to meet Professor McGonagall. The stern witch had an odd expression on her face.
"If I might have a word with you, my dear?"
"Of course," Hermione responded. To her surprise, the deputy headmistress took Hermione's arm and strolled with her down the stone hallway.
"I've just had a rather shocking conversation with the Headmaster, Miss Granger."
"Yes," Hermione managed in a somewhat strangled voice.
"He tells me you're going to be married tomorrow." Minerva McGonagall patted Hermione's captive hand. "Now, I've known Albus for many years, and he's not above pulling the wool over my eyes now and then with a tall tale."
"It's true," Hermione supplied in a rush. "I'm sorry I never told you, Professor."
"Oh, my dear girl," Minerva said with feeling. "Don't be sorry. I can only imagine how difficult things must have been for you. I'm not entirely sure I agree with you marrying Severus, but I can't think of any better alternative."
"I can't say I'm entirely enthusiastic about it, myself," Hermione confessed, "but I do think it's the right thing to do."
"No, you're never entirely sure," Minerva said with a reminiscent smile. "I remember the lad I was to marry. Perfectly mad for him, I was, but every now and then I couldn't help wondering if I were making the right decision."
Hermione couldn't help asking. "What happened?"
"The war happened, my dear. The Great War, they called it, before we had another just like it. His name was William, and he died at Galipoli."
"Galipoli?" She'd never heard of wizards dying in Muggle battles. "Wasn't he a wizard?"
"No, he was a Muggle," confirmed Minerva. "And when he died, well, I just never found anyone else. Hogwarts has been my life ever since. But we're discussing your wedding, not mine, and I have a gift for you."
"Oh, that's not necessary," she protested, only to be shushed by her Head of House.
"Nonsense. I'll have the house-elves deliver it to your room this evening." She paused there in the hallway, looking at her, then reached out and fondly patted Hermione's face. "It always comes as a bit of a surprise when my Gryffindors grow up. It seems as though you were only Sorted yesterday, and here you are, getting married."
Minerva sniffed quickly but smiled. "I don't deny that I hope you'll return here to teach someday, but I do hope you make a grand life for yourself outside these walls before then. Even if you are marrying a Slytherin." Her mouth twitched, and if Hermione hadn't suspected the enmity between the Heads was exaggerated before, she did now.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione told her, and surprised them both by leaning forward and giving the older witch a quick kiss on the cheek. "It means a lot to me to have your approval."
"Oh, go on with you," Minerva told her. "You've much to do, and I shouldn't keep you."
"I do need to find Ginny Weasley."
"Try the dining hall, and then perhaps Harry Potter's dorm," Minerva suggested with some asperity. "The girl's as bad as her mother ever was."
*****
A quiet but insistent knocking on her door woke Hermione at an obscenely early hour the next morning. She dispelled the security ward with a grumble and collapsed back into her pillows, vowing to cause bodily harm to her bridesmaid. As soon as she woke up.
"Wake up, wake up!" Ginny caroled, ignoring a sleepy glare from both Hermione and Crookshanks. "It's your wedding day!"
"It's not even day yet," Hermione protested, looking out at the gray sky outside her window.
"Nonsense. It's just overcast. We need to get you ready," Ginny declared, putting down an armload of various things.
Hermione regarded the pile with some suspicion. "What is all that?"
"Oh, some flowers I begged off Professor Sprout, a cloak I've borrowed from one of my dorm mates, a dress for me. Which reminds me - do you know what you're going to wear? It doesn't have to be white, not for a Handfasting."
Yawning, Hermione nodded towards her wardrobe. "Professor McGonagall sent me something. I think it's the one she bought for her own wedding, and it's lovely, but not quite what I had in mind."
Ginny opened the door and let out a gasp. "It's a chiton," she breathed. Draped from a padded hanger was a white gown. The under layer was a heavy white silk sheath, while the overdress was a dreamy layer of sheer white silken gauze, heavily embroidered with flowers and leaves.
"It's a tube," Hermione told her. "I tried it on - took me ages to figure out how to fasten the shoulder brooches."
"Does it fit?" Ginny asked as she examined the gown, all business once again.
"Just. It bunches ever so slightly around the middle."
"Well, we can probably let it out a bit if necessary, it's got nice wide seam allowances," Ginny told her. If she'd learned nothing else living in a large family, it was how to adjust clothing to make them do for another person. "I can't believe how beautiful this is, Hermione. A lot of witches don't bother with these anymore, they're just too costly, but chitons are very traditional dresses for Handfastings. They go back centuries."
"Well, they would, wouldn't they?" Hermione pointed out, propping herself up on the bed.
Ginny just shook her head. "The thing is, you don't wear anything but the dress to a Handfasting. No knickers, nothing."
"Bare?" Hermione asked in disbelief. She'd bought some new panties at the lingerie store, and while she had to confess they were more comfortable, as they were designed to go over a full term belly, they were absolutely enormous and hardly what she'd wear under a wedding dress. Still, she wasn't sure she was ready to go commando.
"Well, nowadays the joke is that it's so you can get to the afters quicker, but really it's about being one with the earth, fertility and all that. And you don't wear shoes, either."
"Well, we hardly need worry about the fertility part, do we?" she said dryly, running a hand over the bulge.
Under Ginny's prodding and over her own objections, Hermione was put in a bathtub and had her hair washed for her. "It's traditional," she was told, though she wondered how much was really tradition and how much was Ginny channeling her mother. Once out, she was dried, lotioned, wrapped in her bathrobe and her hair combed out with some goo produced from the flotsam her friend had brought in with her.
Sitting on her bed, Hermione petted Crookshanks while Ginny knelt on the covers behind her, armed with a brush and a box of hairpins. In between demands for the other comb and another pin, Ginny chattered and answered Hermione's questions about the upcoming ceremony.
"So, it's perfectly legal for Dumbledore to perform the ceremony?"
"Oh, absolutely. He's a Grand Sorcerer. Any member of the Sorcerer's Guild is legal, and the Headmaster's quite a bit higher than that. All he has to do is put it down on a parchment. Someone will have to send it to the Ministry, so it's registered and all, but that's how it's done. Comb," she commanded, holding out her hand.
Hermione handed it back, wincing as another lock of hair was pulled. "And what if we decide we hate each other? Is there a way to, well, divorce him? Am I allowed?"
"My, aren't you romantic, talking divorce on your wedding day."
"I'm just being practical," Hermione defended herself, not needing her friend's comments to add to the awful sensation that had just crept into her stomach.
"Yes," Ginny answered. "You keep the ribbon from the ceremony, and if you want him to push off, you give him the chopped-up ribbon and send off one piece of it to the Ministry, so they can attach it to your divorce decree. Actually, any old ribbon will do, I think."
A light tapping came at Hermione's door, and the young women looked at each other.
"Bugger," swore Ginny, dropping the strands of hair to dangle around Hermione's face as she went to open the door.
A deep voice on the other side of the door, quietly asking to see her, told Hermione who it was. Pulling her bathrobe more tightly around herself, she went to stand beside Ginny, who discreetly withdrew.
"Good morning," Severus told her.
"Good morning," she replied, somewhat shyly. "Is anything wrong?"
"Everything's fine. I simply wanted to get your approval on something."
In his hand was a black velvet box, obviously from a wizard jeweler. On the lid, small bits of gold joined up to form the words 'Will you marry me?' before dissolving into a cascade of celebratory fireworks. All in all, very optimistic box.
Hermione made no move to take it. "If that's got a silver and emerald ring in it, you can jolly well hang it in your nose," she warned him.
A faint smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Platinum only comes in one color, Hermione. And since I refuse to give my bride rubies, I compromised and chose a sapphire."
Severus opened the box for her as he spoke, and Hermione swallowed when she saw the ring. The central stone was the size of her little fingernail and a deep, fiery blue, flanked by triangular diamonds only a bit smaller. Without asking permission, he reached down and captured her left hand, plucked the ring from its home in the black velvet and slid it onto her ring finger. It tingled for a moment, then contracted to fit perfectly.
"Can you afford this?" she blurted out. He laughed, low and intimate, his fingers toying with the stones on the ring.
"Don't worry," Severus told her. "I've a little laid by." With the faintest tug on her captive hand, he pulled her close enough to lean down and brush a swift kiss across her lips. "I'll see you soon." Hermione barely felt the ring slide off her finger as he reclaimed it and put it back in the box.
Somewhat dazed, she closed the door behind his retreating back and leaned against it. When she looked up, it was to see a speculative look on Ginny's face.
"You know, it's odd," her friend said. "Snape looks a bit like Victor Krum."
"Oh, really now!" Hermione objected, collecting her scattered wits.
"No, really! Victor was tall, and had dark hair, and he had a big nose," Ginny pointed out.
"Victor Krum walked like a duck," Hermione retorted, thinking of Severus Snape's stealthy, silent stride. "Not to mention he couldn't brew a potion to save his life! All he ever wanted was to play Quidditch and design brooms. You know, I broke up with him when he kept asking me about charms to make his broom go faster!"
"I thought you broke up with him because you were crushing on my idiot brother."
"Well, that too," Hermione admitted, allowing Ginny to push her back down and submitting to the continuing hair torture.
"I love my brother, Hermione, but he honestly needs to grow up a bit before he gets serious with a girl. He's older than Harry, but Harry's ten times more mature."
"Someone's been trying to kill Harry since he was a baby. That tends to cause one to focus."
A mumbled something that sounded like irritated agreement came from around a mouthful of hairpins.
"Can I ask you something?" Hermione ventured. Another affirmative sound told her to go ahead. "When did you know you were in love with Harry?"
Ginny removed the hairpins from her mouth, causing Hermione to devoutly hope she wouldn't end up with spit-covered pins in her hair. "Do you mean before or after I spent years making a complete idiot of myself?"
"After the idiot part."
"Well." Ginny paused, thinking. "I think it was last summer at the Burrow. Harry and Ron were scrimmaging with the twins in the back paddock, and when they were done he came down and sat with me."
She gave a wry smile, which brought a mischievous twinkle to her brown eyes. "Mind you, I'd have rather he sat downwind, but it was really nice. We were just talking, you know? And for a while there, the rest of the world was just gone. He was everything to me." A blush rose on her cheeks, but she continued. "And even now, whenever he comes close to me, it's as though every inch of my skin is aware of him."
Hermione could only hope that her own cheeks weren't reddening as she remembered how her body reacted in proximity to Snape's. Preoccupied, she didn't notice Ginny frowning.
"Hermione," she asked hesitantly, "why are you marrying Snape?"
"Because I'm going to have his baby."
"That's not an answer." Ginny fiddled with another lock of hair. "Do you like him?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. He's very. interesting," Hermione said. "And I - I'm attracted to him," she confessed.
"Thought so," Ginny said smugly. "All right, I've done my worst. Let's get the dress."
"Wouldn't it have been easier to put on the dress and then do my hair?" complained Hermione several minutes later, from somewhere under several yards of silk. Her hand emerged from the folds of fabric, only to be pushed back in by Ginny.
"No, because you'd have gotten the dress all wrinkled from sitting on it." Ginny maneuvered the neck opening to find Hermione's head.
"That's what anti-wrinkle charms are for," came the muffled reply. At last Hermione's limbs came out the proper aperture, and Ginny carefully guided the shoulder brooches and neckline of the gown over the hairstyle on which she'd just spent a painstaking hour or more. The long, curly mass had been tamed by the dressing Ginny had combed through it, and now hung in shiny corkscrew tendrils down her back. A portion had been gathered at the temples and woven into a braided coronet, leaving only a few strands to drape gracefully across her cheek.
Hermione blew at one irritably and glared at her friend. "Are you sure I can't wear anything under here? It's going to be a bit chilly, you know, and I don't fancy everyone knowing just how cold I am." A chin jerk in the direction of her cleavage left Ginny with no doubts as to what her objection was.
"Don't worry, the embroidery will cover anything," Ginny replied impishly. "Besides, do you really want to wear this," and she grabbed Hermione's rather plain undergarments off the bed, "under that gorgeous dress?"
"No, I suppose not. They're not very attractive, are they?"
Ginny held up the brassiere and shrugged, but when the panties separated, her eyebrows rose to new heights. "Good heavens, Hermione. I've seen smaller market bags. These are enormous!"
"They're supposed to be," Hermione replied tartly. "They're made to go over a full term pregnancy, and they stretch like mad. The first time I put one on, I could tuck the waistband under my bra."
Ginny giggled, and Hermione managed a rueful smile. "They are awful, aren't they? Oh, Ginny," she said emotionally, "I can't tell you how glad I am you're doing this for me."
Recognizing a galloping case of nerves, Ginny dropped the ridiculous under- things and gave her best friend a warm hug. "I'm glad you asked, Herm. I know you'll do the same for me, some day."
"All right, enough of this," Ginny told her firmly, as though she weren't sniffling as well. "Time for flowers."
"Oh, I hadn't really planned on carrying a bouquet," Hermione objected as Ginny unearthed the carton of flowers.
"It's not for a bouquet, it's for your hair. Handfastings don't have to have a bouquet, but you can't get married without flowers in your hair."
"It's tradition," Hermione echoed with Ginny as the younger woman began snipping the stems with small flicks of her wand, the colored bursts of light reflecting off the white flowers.
"Speaking of tradition, who's Professor Snape going to have stand with him? It's supposed to be someone your own age, who's a friend or something like. Hold still!" she ordered as she began threading the flowers into the hair arrangement.
"Remus Lupin," Hermione supplied. "Who did you expect, Professor Flitwick?"
"I guess Sirius Black was out of the question," Ginny quipped.
"No," laughed Hermione. "Severus said he'd ask Harry to do it before he'd have Sirius Black."
Finished, Ginny stood back and examined the results. "Perfect. Now, you're already packed, right?" At Hermione's assurance that she was, Ginny tidied up the mess with several swift twists of her wand. "Then there's only one thing left to do."
The redheaded girl pulled out the chair at Hermione's study table. "Sit," she commanded. "Quill and ink. Write to your parents and tell them you're not going to be on the train this afternoon. Harry will be bringing Hedwig down here soon, and you're going to have a letter to send off by the time I've finished changing."
"Oh, Ginny. What on earth am I going to say to them?"
"Don't know, but you'd better have it down by the time I've finished my hair, or I'll do it for you."
"You wouldn't!" A look at Ginny's firm expression told Hermione she most certainly would. "Bossy cow," Hermione muttered as she found a spare quill.
"My best friend showed me how," Ginny sang out as she disappeared into the bath with her dress.
Faced with the threat of her friend's blunt deadline, Hermione finally dug out her many half-started letters and draft a woefully short dispatch to her parents, informing them that she was would be marrying the father of their grandchild in a few short hours. She assured them she hadn't been seduced by one of her teachers, but left out the details. On the whole she found it preferable that they thought her careless rather than a victim of violence. She signed off with an apology and a promise to come and see them soon. When soon would arrive, she wasn't sure.
With the finished letter folded and sealed, Hermione sat at her desk and toyed with the small brass seal. It had been a birthday gift from Ron, and was a simple cursive 'H' surrounded by a wreath of what might have been flowers, leaves, or quite possibly hoofprints. It was rather hard to tell.
She turned it over in her fingers, listening to the sound of Ginny swearing half-heartedly in the bath as she dropped something. In her womb, the baby moved gently, and she ran a hand over the spot. She wasn't huge yet, but she could no longer be mistaken for anything but pregnant. For just one moment she was tempted to tear off the beautiful gown and run screaming down the corridor, denying the looming fate ahead of her and refusing to accept the way her life had somehow spun out of her control.
Since the day Madame Pomfrey had diagnosed her flu-like symptoms as a pregnancy, Hermione had felt she'd lost charge of her life. Where once she'd made rational, sensible decisions regarding the benefits of taking Ancient Runes over Advanced Arithmancy, she was now continually being forced to choose between less and less appealing options. Was marrying Severus Snape really the lesser of two evils?
Hermione had always wondered how impossibly thick her parents could be when they would look at each other and say they had no choice but to do something, whether it was expanding their surgery or replacing the worn furniture in their sitting room. They're grown-ups, she'd thought. Of course they have a choice. Only now was she appreciating the fact that being an adult meant navigating your way though more and more narrow divides, making choices whose results would never be clear cut.
An orange blur abruptly jumped onto the table beside her and gave out a 'mrrw' as he settled on the corner. His buzzing purr increasing as she reached out and scratched his ears, prevented from scooping him up for a cuddle by the thought of the telling off she'd get from Ginny for putting orange cat hairs on her gown. He sniffed at the brass seal and batted it with his paw, pushing it over.
"You'll be a good boy for the house-elves, won't you, Crooks?" she asked. A lazy flick of his bottlebrush tail seemed to say he'd consider the notion. She petted him firmly, hoping he'd be as understanding when she returned after the holiday. A holiday she'd be spending with Severus.
"I'm getting married, old son," she whispered to him, "You'll no longer be the only man in my life."
Crookshanks gave her a head-butt for more petting, supremely unconcerned about his loss in status. Biting her lip, Hermione considered what else her cat might lose - namely sole right to occupy the other half of Hermione's bed. Ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach, Hermione tried to be logical as she considered the possibility of sharing her bed with Severus. She was honest enough with herself to grant that the idea wasn't horrid. Not in the least. The memory of his kiss the day before and the quick repeat just hours ago led her to believe that he might not consider her repellent, either.
He'd offered Hermione a marriage of convenience, allowing her to take a lover if she chose to do so. While she was certain she didn't want that, she wasn't sure exactly what she DID want. Or what he wanted. And the thought of discussing it with him like rational, reasonable adults made her more than a little queasy.
"Aren't you finished yet?" Ginny demanded from the doorway to the bath, startling her. The younger woman wore a set of blue dress robes Hermione recognized from the previous year's Yule Ball, but they'd been altered a bit, the gold snowflakes charmed into a band of Celtic knot-work along the hem. The waterfall of red hair had been left to hang in artfully loose curls that must have taken her ages to create.
"Yes, I'm done. I'm just thinking."
"About what?"
"Sex," Hermione said frankly.
Ginny grinned and all but skipped across the room to perch on the edge of the study table, giving Crookshanks a shove and a petting at the same time. "What about it?"
"Have you slept with Harry yet?"
A faint blush rose in Ginny's cheeks, but she smiled. "Not yet. Ask me again after the hols are over. I have plans."
"Virginia Weasley!" Hermione scolded, laughing. "What would your mother say?"
"I won't tell you what she says, but I know now where Ron gets it from. Though from what I hear, my dad didn't have a chance in Hades when she decided he was the chap for her."
"Well, whatever you do, DON'T forget your Contraceptus potion."
"With my family history?" she snorted. "Not bloody likely."
A rather timid knock on the door sent Ginny scurrying over to open it and immediately kiss the young man standing outside.
"Honestly, Gin," Ron complained. "Give him a chance to come inside!" He rudely pushed his entwined friend and sister and entered the room, only to stop abruptly, his mouth hanging open, as he saw Hermione stand up. The shoulder bags he carried in either hand, each with a broomstick strapped to the back, dropped to the floor.
"Wow," he wheezed.
"Hermione...you look fabulous," Harry told her. Ginny promptly smacked his shoulder. "You look great, too," he added hastily, looking his girlfriend over. She gave him a quick, forgiving kiss.
On his other arm, Hedwig ruffled her wings together as her balance was upset and gave the redheaded girl a yellow-eyed look of reproach. With a few strong flaps of her white wings, the owl glided to a perch on the back of the chair Hermione had just vacated and presented a scaly leg. She held still while Hermione rolled the letter to her parents into a cylinder and tied it on.
"Hedwig," Harry addressed his owl as he lifted her from her perch once more and opened the single window with his other hand. "Please take this letter to Hermione's parents. You've been there often, remember? Where Hermione lives during the summer?"
The owl blinked once, then bated her wings once launched off Harry's arm, dove out the window and quickly disappeared from sight.
"Well, that's done," Harry told them. "We'd better get going. Professor Dumbledore told us to walk you two down to the village before the rest of the students leave for the train station."
With the light hood of the borrowed cloak covering Hermione's head, the four of them slipped out of the castle, avoiding any of the students, and walked down the long lane towards Hogsmeade. April did not equal bonny spring in Scotland, and Hermione drew the cloak tightly around her to ward of the chill.
They walked in silence until they reached the edge of the village, where Harry told them he'd been given the address of a cottage, and instructions to take the girls there and leave them.
"I think Professor Dumbledore owns it, but he doesn't live there any longer. And I'm really sorry we can't stay for the ceremony. Too many people would talk if all four of us are missing on the train."
Bypassing the shopping district, Harry led the way to a residential street. Further down and around a small curve, the newer Tudor-style houses gave way to smaller stone cottages. On either side of the avenue, each home had a long front garden accessed by a gate. The gates were as individual as the house, and the name of the house was usually on a plaque beside it.
"Lemon Drop Cottage," read Ron with disbelief as he dropped Hermione and Ginny's bags to the ground.
"This is it," Harry said unnecessarily. He opened the gate for them and, to her surprise, gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Hermione murmured, looking up at her friend. She realized anew how much they'd all matured over the last year. Harry was now much taller than she, and when had his voice deepened so much?
He turned to Ginny and put his arms around her, and Hermione looked away to see Ron watching at her, his blue eyes brimming with feeling. She felt some of the same bittersweet emotions rising to choke her, especially when he leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth, sweet and tender and tasting mostly of goodbye.
"Good luck, Hermione. I love you. You know that, don't you?"
"I love you too, Ron."
Ron squeezed her hand briefly before stepping back, and after a moment of waiting on Harry and Ginny, gave his best friend a hard shove on the shoulder.
"Keep that up and we'll miss the train."
"All right," Harry mumbled as he gave Ginny one last quick kiss.
Hitching up their shoulder bags, the two young men strode back up the street. A train whistle cut though the morning air, and they broke into a run, their broomsticks bouncing on their backs, and gave one last wave goodbye over their shoulders.
Inside the gate the garden was warm, and Hermione could feel the subtle tingle of magic in the charm that filled the air with a sweet scent of early summer. Ginny stopped and toed off her shoes, her green-painted toes wiggling in the cool, frost-seared grass of the garden. Following her lead, Hermione lifted the hem of her gown and did likewise.
Watching from the door of the cottage, Remus Lupin called out "They're here," to someone inside and came down the walk to greet them. Instead of his usual robes, he wore a rather faded brown shirt, untucked, over a pair of brown trousers. He, too, had foregone his footwear, and to no real surprise possessed rather large and hairy feet.
Severus stopped dead in the doorway as he saw Hermione at the end of the garden walk, and for a single instant, he thought a nymph had somehow found her way to Dumbledore's cottage. A crown of white flowers had been fastened in her honey-brown hair, which cascaded in elegant spirals over her shoulders. Delicate collarbones were framed by the neckline of the white gown. The rich fabric left her arms bare but flowed over her body, lovingly outlining her curves and lightly draping over the slight prominence of her pregnancy.
"Severus, my boy, you're blocking the door."
Scowling at his own inept reaction and the Headmaster's obvious amusement, Severus moved out of Dumbledore's way. The older wizard joined Remus in welcoming the young women, leaving his former Potions Master to follow behind. Ginny immediately began questioning her former DADA teacher, asking after Sirius Black and drawing the normally quiet man into an animated conversation.
Hermione accepted the welcoming noises from Dumbledore, but watched her future husband descend the step, scowling. He wore his usual black trousers and white shirt, though the shirt was untucked and his scowl was more pronounced than usual. She wondered nervously what had upset him. Knowing he'd spent the morning with Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, she thought the odds of it being something she'd done were slim.
Dumbledore peered up at the man as he finally joined the rest of the group on the lawn. "With a scowl like that, Severus, one would guess you were facing a firing squad."
"It's your wedding day, man," Remus told him. "Surely one smile won't kill you."
His half-lidded eyes told Hermione he was not amused at the teasing.
"Well, Hermione," said Dumbledore prosaically, "if he doesn't cheer up, you can always marry Remus here."
"Only if he brought his dueling wand with him," Severus interjected.
"It's all right, Professor. I've gotten used to the scowling." Hermione replied. "And his sarcasm's easy enough to ignore, once you've got the hang of it."
With an approving smile, Dumbledore removed his hat and tucked it under his belt, revealing a freckled scalp where his silvery white hair had gone thin in the back. He caught Hermione glancing at the hem of his robes and lifted the hem to show off a dry, horny-soled bare foot with knobby toes. Remus, his own gray hairs glinting slightly in the sunlight, gave a significant look to the boots on Severus' feet.
With a suffering expression the man kicked them off, and quickly stepped on each black sock in turn to remove them. "You were expecting cloven hooves, Miss Weasley?" he commented to Ginny, who simply grinned.
"You have the ring?" Dumbledore asked Remus, who held up his little finger. A glitter between his first and second knuckle attested to the ring's presence.
"The ribbon?"
Ginny unwrapped a length of ribbon from her wrist and held it up.
"Excellent. Then, if the bride and groom are ready?" He looked at Severus and Hermione over his glasses. Severus gave a curt nod.
"There is one thing," Hermione whispered to her soon-to-be husband.
He frowned at her, suddenly concerned. "What is it?"
"You do realize I come with a cat?"
His eyebrow lifted. "Yes, I was aware that orange monster was yours. I'd love to sic him on Mrs. Norris some day."
"All right, then." Stifling an all-too-inappropriate giggle, Hermione faced Dumbledore and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She was ready.
Dumbledore gestured to them, chivying them to form a loose circle. To Hermione's surprise, the old wizard began to speak in a serious tone, his trademark twinkle disappearing as he asked the witnesses to attest to the free will of the participants. Later, she could not remember the exact words the sorcerer used to ask her to swear herself to Severus, only that he had not spoken of love or romance, but rather loyalty, honor, and responsibility. His usually genial voice deepened until the ground seemed to tremble under Hermione's feet.
After the vows, Severus took the ring from Remus and slid it onto Hermione's finger. When he released her left hand, Ginny took it. Severus took her right hand, and she saw him clasp Remus' without embarrassment. Dumbledore took the ribbon from Ginny and wove the ribbon around Severus and Hermione's clasped hands, then took Ginny and Remus' hands in his own, completing the circle.
Not a circle, she thought, but a pentacle, the ancient symbol of protection. Invoked by a sorcerer of Dumbledore's power, it was nothing to be taken lightly. Belatedly she realized that the ground WAS trembling beneath her in response to the headmaster's words as he called on the very earth and air to bear witness to the marriage.
For years she'd heard that Albus Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, but she had never witnessed any aspect of him other than the warm and puckish headmaster. Now, here in a dormant garden under a cold spring sky, she caught a glimpse of the wizard who made Voldemort nervous, a seasoned mage who had battled evil on an unbelievable scale for more than a century.
All too soon it was over and Dumbledore, his merry twinkle firmly back in place, was kissing her on the cheek, shaking Snape's hand and calling out congratulations. He ushered them all inside, where the Hogwarts house- elves had left a cold lunch and small cakes covered with powdered sugar. With the meal Dumbledore poured out a bottle of mead, Hermione's glass holding little more than a splash to observe the formalities.
The mead had a strong, dry flavor Hermione didn't particularly care for. Most of the toasts went past her without much notice. She was preoccupied with the fact that Severus, her husband of less than two hours, was sitting opposite her, absently toying with his food and speaking very little. The luncheon dragged on interminably, though Ginny enjoyed herself fully as Dumbledore and Remus took turns subtly baiting the groom.
All too soon, Ginny lit a fire in the massive stone fireplace and gave her a final hug before she Floo'ed to the Burrow. The three men begged her pardon as they excused themselves and disappeared into the empty study. The door closed with a solid click, and Hermione knew perfectly well they were discussing Severus' future spying activities.
Left to her own devices, she puttered about the cottage. She found the single bedroom when she went in search of the loo, which fortunately had up to date plumbing. She decided not to think about that just at the moment and continued exploring, discovering a tiny kitchen that was even more antiquated than the Weasleys' and startling the house-elf wearing a Hogwarts tea towel toga. The elf, one Hermione did not know personally, was horrified when she offered to help clear the dishes. Instead she was presented with a cup of tea she didn't really want and shooed back out into the sitting room.
Twisting the new ring on her finger, Hermione wandered around the room investigating. The house had a decidedly unlived-in air, and contained few clues that indicated Albus Dumbledore had ever lived here. One photo on the wall displayed a barely recognizable Dumbledore and a young woman. Even though the image was in black and white, Dumbledore's beard was obviously darker and fairly short. The woman wore traditional witch's robes, which made it hard to gauge the era, but she judged the photo to be nearly fifty years old.
Eventually, Hermione selected a book from the pile that had obviously been taken from the study and never returned and settled in front of the fire Ginny had lit. The chair was squashy and quite comfortable, and she dozed off without realizing it.
Pointedly ignoring Remus' last minute comments, no matter how well intentioned, Severus finally shut the door on the departing werewolf and went to find his wife. The discussion in Dumbledore's study had gone on far longer than anticipated, but Severus had been just fine with that. However, once the business had been completed, he'd been beset from both sides with thinly-veiled, well-intentioned advice that irritated the hell out of him. Bad enough that he didn't know where he'd be sleeping that night; he hardly needed prodding from a career bachelor and a man who was nearly a century older than himself.
A quick search located Hermione curled up in a chair, her cheek propped on the heel of her hand. Wishing for something stronger, Severus emptied the last of the mead into a glass. He grimaced at the sweetness as he took the chair opposite Hermione's and leaned back heavily to watch her sleep. She needed more rest as her body supported the child growing within her, he knew, and he worried that she'd been neglecting herself again. She hadn't eaten much at lunch.
In her sleep, she shifted, and the book in her lap slid perilously close to the edge of her lap. Severus leaned forward and took it, but the slight movement woke her.
Hermione lifted her head and blinked, looking at the book in her husband's hand. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. What time is it?" Her stomach growled rudely.
"It's time to feed you again," he commented, holding out his hand. She took it and let him draw her up and lead her to the kitchen. The house-elf had disappeared and so wasn't present to object as Severus put a plate of cold sliced meat, some cheese, and a loaf of bread on the rickety wooden table and pulled out a chair for her. They ate in silence until he asked her if something was wrong.
"No, I was just thinking that today was very different than a Muggle wedding ceremony."
"How so?" he asked, taking up a knife and cutting another slice of bread.
"First of all, you're allowed to wear shoes."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"And, usually you're required to invite everyone you've ever met, and then feed them all. Can't say I miss that part. Though I do wish my parents had been here," she added.
"Of course you do," he said reasonably. "I'm sure your friends would have been here as well, if they'd had a choice in the matter."
"There's also usually a huge cake," Hermione went on. "The bride and groom cut it together, and then sometimes they feed each other the first bite."
"Sounds messy," Severus commented, firmly repressing the mental image of Hermione licking a dollop of frosting off his fingers.
"Well, some go mad and smash it on each other's faces, but that's rather tacky."
She shivered and pulled her chilled feet off the cold flagstone floor, intending to tuck them underneath her only to remember the costly gown. The warming charm had worn off the cottage, and the fire from the sitting room did little to fight the cool creeping in from outside.
"You're cold," Severus observed with a frown. "Where are your things?"
It took her a moment to remember, to her embarrassment, they'd been left outside. "I've think I've left them out in the garden, along with my shoes."
"I'll get them."
"But - " she protested.
"Consider it my first husbandly duty," he said dryly.
"They're by the gate," she called out.
He brought in the two small bags she'd packed, one the schoolbag with her holiday homework, the other slightly larger with clothes. He draped the cloak around her shoulders and resumed his meal.
"Severus?"
"Yes?"
"What do we do now?"
He did not answer immediately, finishing his bite and washing it down with the last of the mead. "That is entirely dependent on you. I had thought that we should become accustomed to each other's company, without Madame Pomfrey's inestimable contributions or the so-called wit of my colleagues."
He took her empty plate and added it to his own and put them both in the sink for the house-elf to deal with. Hermione took the glasses and silver to put beside the plates, fairly certain his efforts were more to avoid the subject than to help the housekeeper. Unsure herself of how to proceed, Hermione collected her borrowed cloak and went to the bags he'd deposited by the far wall.
His voice held a tinge of regret as he spoke behind her. "I realize this isn't the wedding young girls dream about."
"Not exactly," Hermione replied. "Although I hadn't ever given it a great deal of thought, really. There were always so many other things to worry about."
This certainly wasn't the most romantic of locations, in a ramshackle kitchen that could not even boast of an electric cooker. But Hermione's swirling doubts coalesced into a determination that even if she had lost control of her life, she could at the least prod it in the right direction. Gathering her courage, she stood and mimicked his posture, putting her hands behind her back and leaned against the stone wall just as he leaned back against the countertop.
The caress of the silk over her breasts was deliciously sensuous, sparking her nerves enough to say one more thing.
"I always imagined that when I married, my husband might be at least a little attracted to me."
Severus went entirely still, staring at Hermione as she raised her chin and met his eyes boldy. The light from the lamps brought out the blue-black glimmer in his hair as he tilted his head to one side, studying her. He took one step towards her.
"You think I don't want you?" he asked, his voice low. He took another slow step, and then another. "I've spent the last few weeks fixated on nothing but you." The kitchen was narrow, and he was quickly closing in on her.
"You were?" she blurted, then abruptly colored. "I must be completely thick."
Only an arm's-length separated them, and Severus was hard-pressed to maintain that distance against the urge that pulled at him like gravity. "I know you don't think of me as a romantic lover, Hermione. I'm quite aware of my shortcomings in that regard, not to mention more than a bit out of practice."
"I don't - I don't know what to think about you," she answered honestly. "You're not my old Potions teacher. I'm not sure who you are."
Hermione felt as though she could not take a full breath, pinned against the stone wall by only the weight of his gaze. His eyes were dark and vibrant, burning with an intensity she'd never seen in them before.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in towards her, lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his own, his lips gentle yet firm against hers.
"I'm your husband," he murmured, kissing her again, lightly, testing her reaction. One hand settled on her middle, his long fingers stirring slightly on the taut skin of her stomach, heat radiating from his palm as he cupped her belly. His other hand went to the wall beside her, causing her stomach to flutter in recognition of his larger size and undeniable masculine presence.
This time, Hermione lifted her mouth to his, cautiously tasting his lower lip. With a groan he pressed in against her, diving in for a deep, openmouthed kiss. The nearness of his body seemed to overwhelm her, the scent of skin and cotton and man rushing over her senses. She let her hands settled on his shoulders as he coaxed her mouth open. He'd never be accused of having broad shoulders, but his spare frame was solid and capable under her hands, and he was definitely NOT out of practice.
She was lost as that one hand caressed her swollen flesh possessively, curving around to find her waist, what was left of it, pulling her body closer to his. It was slightly awkward, but she wasn't so big that he couldn't bend her back, just a little, arching her in his arms. The world was shifting around her, even though the wall remained a solid anchor at her back. His breath shortened as he kissed her, long and lingering.
"Hermione," he groaned, his mouth skating down her cheek to the tender spot below her ear, reveling in the way she arched her neck to allow him access. "I swear to you...I won't do anything you don't want. I'll stop any time you say it."
The past few months of longing came crashing down on her, and now it was real. Severus Snape was her husband, and he was kissing her with a wholly unsuspected intensity. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth gently, learning the shape and taste of her, meeting her own tentative exploration and encouraging it. Her arms twined around his neck as she molded her body against his, feeling the heat and strength of him. It seemed perfectly right to surrender to him completely.
"Don't stop," she breathed, kissing the hollow of his throat and finding just where on his neck made him react. "I want you, Severus. I think I've wanted you for months. Make love to me, please?"
He drew back to gauge the sincerity in her eyes, his own glittering with need. Whatever words he would have spoken died before he could utter a more than an inarticulate sound, but his hands were strong and sure as they pulled her body against his before sweeping down and lifting her from the ground.
Severus had no conscious memory of the walk between the kitchen and the bedroom, but the sight of her as he laid her on the bed, her hair tousled and still caught with flowers, her lips red and swollen from his kisses, was one which he was certain would be branded into his memory forever. Impatient, he flung off the loose white shirt and knelt on the bed to kiss her again, shuddering as her hands skimmed over his chest, brushing the sparse black hairs on his lean chest, exploring the planes and ropy muscles of his arms.
It took more self-control that he wanted to admit to just lay down beside her and pull her closer. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her by rushing. She was warm and sweet under his mouth, returning his kisses with sighs and little moans while her fingers traced his neck and spine. He wasn't entirely aware of what his own hands were doing until he found the knee-high slit in her gown, her thigh warm and soft underneath. The thought of her naked under the gown sent blood pounding through his brain, and other places as well.
When she pulled back from him, he feared he'd gone too far until he saw her hands fumbling as she unfastened the brooch on her shoulder. The gauzy fabric whispered against her skin and caused a shiver as it collapsed down her back.
Severus took the jeweled pin from her and laid it on the table beside the bed, then, glancing at her for permission, unpinned its mate. The loose material caught on the swell of her breast, and she watched his hands lay the other pin down before he gently leaned down and kissed her again.
Try as he might to slow down, he nearly lost all semblance of control as the white silk slid down, revealing her. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted his wife at that moment. She gasped softly as he cupped her breast, the loose fabric falling further away from her curves as he touched her, and the sight of her bare breasts went though him like a shock. They were darker than he remembered, but he thrust that thought away as he bent his head and tasted them. This was her first time, regardless of the child that swelled her waistline. This was the first time a man made love to her, and if he had his way, she would always remember it.
Encouraged by her unsteady breathing and the restless hands that roved over his shoulders and into his hair as he worshiped her skin, Severus pushed the Handfasting gown down, gliding it over the roundness of her stomach and down her legs. She made a noise of protest and wrapped one arm over her exposed abdomen.
"What is it? He asked gently.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just feel so... fat."
"Hmmm." His soft black hair brushed her breasts as he drifted down to kiss the smooth cabochon rise of her belly. " When I look at you, other words come to mind. Ripe. Full. Exquisite." His mouth opened on her skin, drifting across her rounded form as though he could not get enough of her taste, more addictive than any drug.
He cradled her body with his, touching her with fleeting, stolen brushes against her skin. She touched his bare back and nearly moaned at the feel of it, smooth and silky with the hard underlay of muscle and bone. He was reluctant to use any of that strength on her until she pulled herself in against him, wanting to feel him. One daring hand into the back waistband of his trousers, and he pulled back enough to unbutton them himself.
At last his arms came around her, possessive, strong, and she felt both vulnerable and protected as he leaned over her. His hands on her breasts, sensitive and heavy with her condition, drew her arousal spiraling upward with only the mildest of caresses. The hot, wet suckling of his mouth began on her nipples, she thought she would orgasm from that alone.
Incandescent fire followed his fingers between her thighs, leaving her whimpering with need as he found her core. His large hands stroked without before delving gently within her heat, teasing her with a gentle exploration that left her gasping.
"Hermione! Do you want me?" he whispered urgently as he positioned himself over her.
Her thighs opened mindlessly as she reached for him. "Gods, yes. More than anything. Please!" she responded, arching up towards him, frantic for relief from the madness of arousal.
"Show me," he insisted in a ragged voice, nudging her wet folds. "Open for me."
It took a moment for what he was asking to register. Hermione's eyes locked with his as she trailed her fingers down his chest, down between their bodies, to spread herself for his invasion. There would never be any doubt in his mind that she wanted him at this moment.
He slid into her depths, his body shaking with his need. They groaned in unison.
She groped blindly for his shoulder, but Severus took her hand and licked the traces of moisture from her fingers. Her eyes widened at this, and the devilish grin he gave her in return reminded her again how little she knew about the man she now called husband, who even now made her body flare with desire. He kissed her mouth and plunged deeply into her.
The random thought that his back was going to ache horribly in the morning floated in the back of Severus' mind, but that was a negligible concern against the devastating pleasure of making love to Hermione Granger. Fuck that, Hermione Snape. His wife. Beautiful, clever wife, nearly six months gone with the pregnancy he was currently arched over, doing his best not to squash, fighting his hardest not to lose it as she cried out.
He slowed as he sensed her distress, using every shred of his self-control.
"I've got you," he whispered reassuringly she overcame the momentary panic. "You're safe." For half a moment he'd though she'd had a flash of memory, then remembered her pregnancy had made her entire body more sensitive. That sensitivity included the region where they were so intimately joined, and she'd no doubt been overwhelmed by the sensation of him moving inside her.
"Sorry," she murmured, unable to apologize more as he kissed her. His hands slipped under her shoulders, rocking into her gently while he braced himself on his elbows and cradled her in his arms. In little words and kisses he encouraged her to move with him, guiding the inexperienced movement of her hips.
Hermione surrendered to his lead, and he watched her for the signs, more intently than he'd ever watched any of his potions. When her mouth fell open in soundless gasps he leaned in to kiss her deeply as they both fell into the abyss and glorious release.
A sleepy protest was the first sound she made as he left her body, moving to one side and rolling her slightly so her head came to rest on his shoulder. Their legs remained entangled, her hand on his chest as she snuggled into his hold. She fell asleep almost immediately.
As she dozed off, Severus felt his heartbeat return to normal. He'd never been one to doze off after orgasm, though many men did. His encounters had been few and far between in the last years, and falling asleep was normally a dangerous idea. Now, however, he simply wanted to hold this incredible creature in his arms and convince himself this was real.
Gently, not wanting to wake her, he slid a palm along the rounded midriff, grazed the indent of her navel that was just about to give up the battle to remain and innie and become an outie instead. The drying sweat on his body reminded him that the cool night was creeping into the room. With a minimum of movement he summoned his wand and lit the fire before pulling the covers up over them both.
Still unwilling to sleep, he watched the young woman in his arms, removing a bruised flower petal from her tangled hair. His wife. His child. Things he'd long ago considered far beyond his reach. Years spent snarling at concepts he told himself he didn't want, since there was absolutely no chance in hell he'd ever have them. And yet here they were, in his arms.
Author's note: To see a picture of a chiton, go here: http://www.uky.edu/ArtsSciences/Classics/pics/p14.gif