Chocking, Hermione fought her way out of the green flames, only to realize
they were the bedclothes Severus had drawn around them as they'd fallen
asleep. Hours ago, judging by the dying fire in the grate, but she paid it
no attention as she bolted for the lavatory and was thoroughly sick.
Severus woke with a start as Hermione threw off his encircling arm, and the sounds of her sobs and intermittent heaving drove the sleep away instantly. Concerned, he grabbed her bathrobe from the foot of the bed and then his own bed jacket.
"Lux," he snapped as he passed the sconce on the wall, and the light showed her nude form crouched on the cold tile floor, convulsing into the toilet bowl. At a loss for what to do, he draped the thick fabric over her bare shoulders and pulled her hair back out of the way as she retched helplessly.
When the worst seemed over, he poured a glass of water from the decanter he'd charmed earlier to taste of mint and pressed it into her hands. She'd stopped vomiting, but her continuing sobs worried him greatly. Wetting a towel, Severus gently wiped at the tears and other fluids on her face. She took it from him as her breathing evened out, the heaving gasps slowing out into shuddering breaths. Her arms slid into the sleeves of the robe and she pulled it around her, her hands trembling.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, pushing the stray tendrils of hair away from her face as she leaned weakly against the toilet. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Hermione's eyes widened and focused on him fully for the first time since she'd woken. Before he could formulate another question she seized the lapels of his quilted lounging jacket and pulled them wide. Shaking, her hands ran over the scar on his chest, then another on his ribs. Her palms were cold as they ran over his torso and shoulders, then his neck and face as though assuring herself he was kneeling with her on this hard floor.
"Hermione. Hermione!" He caught her hands with his own. "What's wrong?"
How could you?" Hermione demanded, tears in her eyes. "How could you do that?"
Consternation and dismay flitting across his dark eyes. "You've remembered," he asked, not really a question. His hands dropped.
"I remember. I remember everything. How could you just..." she was unable to find the words. She stared at him, tears spilling over again and running down her cheeks.
"I will leave," he said colorlessly, after a moment, and rose to his feet. Almost mindlessly he groped for his clothing, the sense of loss so tangible he could not bring himself to speak.
"Leave? NO!" She tore after him, grabbing his arms, trying to force him to look at her. "Not until you tell me why you'd let them do that to you! You didn't even try to fight back! You were going to let them kill you! By all that's holy, why?!"
Severus stared at her in shock. It vaguely occurred to him that she was not berating him for what he'd done to her, but what he had not done to save himself.
Why?" he muttered. "Why not? I once promised Albus I wouldn't kill myself. Why would I turn Malfoy down when he offered me such a gift?"
Hermione slapped him with all her furious dismay. "A GIFT?" she shouted. "LIFE is a gift. This baby is a gift! Death is a thief, it only takes away! How can you say that?"
His hands seized her arms and shook her. "Why would you care?" he demanded. "I raped you, I forced a child on you! After all that, you want me to live? Why?"
"Because I'm falling in love with you!" Hermione raged, her fists grabbing handfuls of the fabric of his robe. Her face crumpled as if she'd betrayed a horrible secret.
Speechless, Severus numbly closed his arms around Hermione as she buried her face in his neck. The wetness of her tears was like acid on the bare skin of his chest as he soothed her, his hands gently rubbing her back as Hermione continued to weep helplessly. He had no experience with this, but he could not deny the feel of her in his arms felt right; the bone-deep instinct to protect her was an urge he could not resist. Even so, he was still astonished at her pronouncement. Surely she could not be in earnest. She could not love him.
Slowly she calmed as he held her, although he was becoming uncomfortably aware that neither one of them were entirely covered by their respective robes, especially when she shivered and pressed closer to his body, reminding him he was bare from the thigh down. Her protruding stomach pressed into his own, further necessitating him to stoop over her slight form.
"Come," he told her. Hermione made no more than murmur of protest as he pulled away from her and guided her towards the bed, furtively pulling his bed jacket together. Listlessly scrubbing at her wet face with the cuffs of her bathrobe, she allowed him to put her under the covers. Her feet were icy, prompting Severus to cast a slight warming charm over the bedclothes as she sank back into the pillows and watched him wearily.
I'll be back in a moment," he told her. In the kitchen, a snap of his fingers conjured the house-elf who'd already dealt with the crumbs and dishes from supper. The creature bobbed its head at his request and within moments had a steaming cup of cocoa ready.
He took it back to the bedroom with him and put it in Hermione's hands. "Drink this," he told her. Obediently she sipped at it, and soon the pinched, white cast of her face relaxed as the chocolate and heat began to take effect. Her eyes, however, remained haunted, huge and dark as the rich beverage in her cup.
"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked, as he turned to pull on a pair of sleeping trousers.
"Only if you wish me to."
"Don't," she told him, her voice quavering slightly. "Please?"
Acquiescing, Severus settled on the corner of the bed, one long, lean leg still draped over the edge. "Drink your chocolate," he told her, his tone more brusque than he intended. She nodded and sipped again, but her gaze fell to the ebony wand thrust in the pocket of his robe.
"It survived," she whispered.
Before he could think better of it, Severus pulled the wand from his pocket and offered it to her. Hermione took it gingerly. The wooden shaft felt sturdy and warm in her fingers, and now she understood her earlier fascination with it; she'd used it before.
"You remember my giving it to you?"
She nodded minutely. "I remember everything that happened that night. I remember Malfoy putting the Imperius on you, and how hard you fought it." Silently she handed back the wand and swallowed more of her chocolate. Under the faded coverlet, her legs curled up and she settled deeper into the pillows.
"If you wish to return to Hogwarts in the morning," he offered gruffly, "or later this morning, I should say, I'll escort you back."
Inspecting her cup, Hermione shook her head. "I want to stay with you."
Severus had no answer to that; he could not imagine how she could even stand to be in the same house with him, let alone the same bed. She stirred under the covers and put her half-finished cocoa on the table beside the bed.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she said quietly, and slipped out of the bed. Severus nodded slightly and steeled himself to endure and wait for the inevitable.
In the lavatory, Hermione groped for toothbrush and paste. Her mind was mercifully silent as she cleaned her teeth, mechanically following the training ingrained since early childhood. The mint flavor removed the lingering second-hand taste of her dinner and the sugary coating of the chocolate, while the cold water soothed the last of the burning in her throat. Unfortunately, the running water also reminded her bladder of other needs.
Once that was taken care of, however, she was confronted with the evidence of the evening's previous activities. Her hip joints ached slightly, and the insides of her thighs were sticky with the combined remains of the passion she'd shared with Severus.
Breathing deeply, Hermione cleaned herself quickly and washed her hands. The mirror threw back an image of her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. She turned away from it, wrapping her arms around herself and willing herself to be calm. The nightmarish recollection of Halloween night loomed up, and to battle it she summoned the memory of strong arms around her shoulders just minutes ago like a protective cloak.
Leaning against the bathroom door, the chill floor pulling the warmth from her feet once more, Hermione concentrated on the last few hours. The feel of Severus Snape's shoulders under her own hands, the taste of his mouth when she kissed him in the kitchen. Block by block and memory by memory she used these more recent images to build a wall against the horrific episode her mind had finally revealed.
The baby chose that moment to begin sporting about, the tiny flutters having become stronger in the last few weeks until Hermione was beginning to wonder just how many extra arms and legs her child had. She ran a soothing hand over her belly, a slight smile coming to her face as she recalled how Severus had been utterly dumbfounded by the movement the one time he'd felt it.
Leaving the bathroom, she was rather startled to see her husband still sitting on the corner of the bed. He had not moved, and he was so motionless she wasn't even sure he was breathing.
"Severus?" she questioned.
He looked at her, and for just an instant the brooding expression on his face flickered, as if he'd expected her to strike him. She had, she remembered. Her palm stung slightly from the slap delivered earlier. The reddened patch on the length of his jaw drew her attention, and she moved forward to touch it gently. He continued to stare at her, as if waiting for some other words to come from her mouth.
"I'm so sorry," she told him. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
His hand captured hers in a breathtaking instant. "You're apologizing to me," he stated with disbelief. "Are you completely mad? You tell me you remember everything I did to you, and now you're sorry you slapped me?" A dry huff of laughter escaped from his chest. "Unbelievable."
Hermione stared into his dark eyes, finally realizing that he was waiting for her to reject him, deny him a place in her life and the marriage they'd just begun. His control was a thin veneer over the renewed guilt and self- loathing she'd first seen in Madame Pomfrey's hidden ward, and she was struck with the sense that she must handle the next few moments carefully or risk loosing any chance she had with this intensely complicated man.
"Severus," she said carefully, putting her other hand to his cheek. "You didn't hurt me of your own accord. We were both victims that night. Because of you, I'm still alive."
He pulled her second hand away as well, but kept his hold on both. "You saved yourself, Hermione. I only gave you the tools."
"We saved each other," she told him. "I'd still be dead if you hadn't helped me. Just like you've helped Harry, and heaven only knows how many others. And I'm very grateful to be alive, regardless of the complications."
"Motherhood at eighteen, and forced to marry the man you peers most despise. Your definitions need revision, I fear." The deep baritone of his voice lacked the usual stinging sarcasm, and Hermione felt sure he was truly listening to her. Another small push, and he just might give in and take her words for the truth. The awareness that this was another one of those defining adult moments bore in on her.
"I've never cared what my peers think. I only care about my own opinion. And for yours."
Still guarded, his gaze flickered across her face as he searched her expression for sincerity. Her heart ached for him, wanting him to believe that he truly had some worth in her estimation. Unable to think of anything else, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.
Shock kept Severus frozen for several long moments while Hermione pressed herself against him, her hands slipping from his grip and winding around his neck. It had been a very long time since he'd been taken by surprise, yet this young woman continually accomplished this. He levered himself to his feet, taking her in his arms and returned a kiss rapidly growing from absolution to passion.
His breath came in a shuddering gasp as he plundered her mouth. Strong, delicate fingers dug into his hair as her tongue dueled with his, tentative contacts swiftly growing into confident confrontation. Hermione's arms tightened before he could rein in the desire that shot through his body and draw away from her. "I hate this jacket," she muttered as she dragged it off his shoulders and spread her hands over the skin beneath.
A blast of desperate hunger went through him as her mouth left his to nip at the thin skin on his neck. Severus let out a groan and dropped his head to allow her access, intoxicated by the feel of Hermione's lips dragging across his collarbone. Their harsh breathing mingled as he captured her mouth again, crushing her to him in a kiss as violent as it was thorough, with only a small adjustment made to accommodate her waistline.
The bed was suddenly behind her, and Hermione dragged him down as much as he pushed her and they fell together into the tangled covers. Neither of them said a word as she ripped his robe from his arms and he blindly sought to open hers while shoving down the pajama pants. Their bodies merged once more, this time with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
The woman in her recognized the need that drove him and welcomed it with a warm, earthy joy. Hermione locked herself around him, felt his hands fisted into her tangled hair as he moved inside her, bringing her closer to that ecstasy that she had had only once before, but craved again. She felt greedy; greedy for his body and for his pleasure as well as her own, greedy for something she could not name but was certain she'd die if she did not receive it.
With a shout Severus plunged into her, his body shaking, muscles quivering with the strength of his release, and that took Hermione with him into a blissful completion. Moments later, still panting, he pushed himself to one side to take his weight from her body. Muscles in his arm and back burned from the effort of keeping from crushing her, but it had been more than worth it.
Hermione's dismay at his sudden withdrawal was mollified when Severus pulled her to his chest as he lay on his side, their legs still tangled together, both sheened with sweat and not caring. A sheaf of his black hair drifted across her face and she left it there.
Several long minutes passed before he could find the courage to speak. "Did I hurt you?" he asked in a subdued voice, his hand caressing her hip and the bulge between them.
"You could never hurt me," she responded sleepily. As if in confirmation, a hearty bump came from the center of her belly and she pulled his hand to it, lacing her fingers through his.
Severus tried to think of an appropriate response; of course he could hurt her. Had hurt her, raped her, and had just made love to her like a man possessed. Instead, he reached down to the tangled foot of the bed and drew up the covers. The chill of the room had quickly reasserted itself, and he carefully tucked the covers over Hermione's shoulders. She was practically asleep already, and merely opened her eyes a bit to see him arranging things.
Dark brown and honest, her sleepy eyes fairly shimmered with a contentment as alien to him as a feast offered to a drowning man, but the thought occurred that he could fall into their depths and drown forever. At a loss for words, he leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth.
Hermione only quirked a small smile in response. She was fading fast, but in her heart that tiny, greedy impulse was finally fed, and was satisfied.
*****
A wash of sunlight across the bed finally brought Hermione to full wakefulness, but the warm, surrounding cocoon of blankets left her loath to move. Instead she snuggled down further until a chuckle finally made her open her eyes. Black chest hair greeted her, and she followed them up to a shoulder, neck, and finally the face of Severus Snape. His fine black hair was a rumpled mess and he had a serious case of five o'clock shadow, but the lazy humor in his eyes was something she had never seen before. The corner of his mouth lifted into an approximation of a smile.
"Are you finally awake?" he teased her, and she managed to nod, a silly smile coming to her own face. "I was beginning to worry."
"Last night rather wore me out," she said lightly, but a shadow flickered across his face and made her regret that she had not been more specific.
"Everything all right?"
"All right," she agreed tentatively. "Let me go..." she nodded towards the bathroom.
In reply, Severus pulled her robe from the tangled covers and handed it over.
Hermione pulled it on, deliberately not making an effort to shield her body from his view. A few minutes later the pressure on her bladder had been relieved and her teeth were clean again. In the mirror, her face looked little different than it ever had, but a large purple spot on her neck testified that she had, indeed, been made love to the night before. Twice. A faint smile refused to leave her mouth and she decided that there was enough to smile about that she should leave it.
"I'm going to take a shower," she called out. "Well, bath then," she amended, looking at the taps. I'll be as quick as I can."
"Breakfast should be ready in a bit," he called back. "Is you digestion up to eggs, or just tea and toast this morning?"
"I'm starved," she called back. "I'll eat whatever you put in front of me."
With the promise of food, Hermione made her ablutions as quickly as possible, then gave her hair a merciless brushing and gathered it at the nape of her neck with a clip. Back in the bedroom, she found the house- elf, whom she still hadn't cornered far enough to even get its name, had made the bed and laid her bag out on the smooth coverlet, her wand still in the outside pocket where she'd left it. A blind grab found one of the robes Severus had bought for her on the day he'd proposed, and she did her best not to be nostalgic as she whisked the wrinkles out of it with a quick charm.
"Good morning," she said as entered the kitchen.
Severus looked up from the paper. "Good morning. Tea, or would you prefer coffee?" he asked as she sat down, his formal tones at odds with his unkempt appearance. He, too, she was inordinately pleased to see, had a mark on his neck.
"Tea, please." Her bubbling good mood was possibly inappropriate, she knew, and would probably irritate him, so she folded her hands and did her best to control herself. She watched his shoulders move under the heavy black silk robe as he poured and handed her a cup. The house-elf popped into view, startling a small 'eep' from her, and it presented her with a plate holding only slightly less food than she'd expect Harry to inhale after an early morning Quidditch practice.
"Thank you..." Hermione told it, drawing out the words in hopes that the elf would supply its name.
"You're welcome, madam," it squeaked and promptly Disapparated.
"Her name is Noggy, and she is part of the Hogwarts kitchen staff," Severus volunteered as he ate a rasher of bacon in quick, precise bites. "And although she's been offered clothes several times, she's quite loyal to Dumbledore and has refused each time. Which is why the Headmaster chose her for the task of looking after us."
"Oh," Hermione replied quietly. A thought occurred to her. "How do you get more house-elves, anyway?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, I've never seen an immature house-elf. And if you could turn someone into a house-elf, I'd nominate Lucius Malfoy in an instant. I think I could spend several centuries being creative, don't you?"
Severus didn't answer, but the look he gave her under lowered lids gave her his agreement. They ate in silence for several minutes until another thought came out.
"Lucius Malfoy really isn't an idiot when it comes to strategy, is he?"
Severus poured more coffee into his cup. "No, he's not."
"And he's still looking for you, isn't he?"
"Yes," he answered shortly. He waited for her to put it together, knowing the most brilliant student he'd ever taught wouldn't take long to make the connections.
"Once he finds out we're married, he'll assume I know where you are."
"Very likely. But," he interrupted, before she could begin with more questions, "this cottage is Dumbledore's safe house. It's unplottable, and only a few owls can find it. In addition, the Headmaster will be not be sending our marriage parchment to the Ministry until the last day of the holidays. By the time Malfoy find out we're married, you'll be safely back at school and I'll be enjoying the dubious company of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."
Plucking another strip of bacon from his plate, he added, "Another thing I meant to tell you. If on the odd chance anyone comes here other than Lupin, Black, or Dumbledore, I want you to go into the bedroom and close the door immediately."
"Are you expecting something to happen?"
"No, but there's no harm in being cautious. Many of the Headmaster's operatives know this as a refuge, and he's put up wards that even Voldemort would have trouble breaking. For the same reasons, however, anyone coming here may be followed, and I don't want you to be exposed to any danger."
He watched her slump slightly as she absorbed this news, and felt compelled to add, "By and large, however, we're simply on our honeymoon. With a few precautions, we should be able to carry on as usual."
Hermione perked up immediately. "Then we might get out for a bit?"
"Feeling claustrophobic already?"
"Aren't you?" she challenged. "You've been cooped up far longer than I have. Is it safe for us to go into the village?"
"Perfectly."
"Then I'd like to go for a walk this morning. Preferably sometime after you shave and before you start pacing."
Severus used his napkin on the corners of his mouth and tossed it down. "Point taken," he replied, rubbing a hand over his beard stubble. His eyes fell to her neck, and she knew he was looking at the love-bite on the side of her throat.
"ARE you all right?" he asked. "A stupid question, I'll grant you, but you didn't precisely answer the first time."
"I'm not sure a precise answer is possible," Hermoine said reflectively. You were right - I'm glad I hadn't remembered earlier than I did. On the other hand, it's something of a relief to finally know it all, no matter how traumatic. But to answer your question, I'm fine now. Really."
His dark eyes held hers. "Good," he told her, honesty filling his voice with a warm resonance.
The intimacy of the moment seemed too intense to be shared over eggs and bacon, and Hermione's agile mind quickly shifted gears. "You know what really irritates me about wizards?" she asked, munching on her toast.
"Narrowed it down to one thing, have you?" he asked, sotto voice.
The bubbling delight she'd felt earlier returned with Severus' unique brand of teasing, though she didn't allow it to distract her.
"There's no proper research done. You all go racketing about, assuming that if a spell's worked for years, it must be perfectly safe. Like Dumbledore's Anisthetae. He could likely have taken it off minutes after casting it; it obviously does its job very quickly. Some spells need to be held, obviously, but some just 'poof' and it's done."
"Most of the spells you've learnt at Hogwarts have been used for centuries."
"Have you ever examined a dragon's scale through a microscope? Or run a spectral analysis on a potion?"
"I'm not entirely certain what that is, but I doubt it's necessary," he replied repressively, though a hint of humor lurked beneath the challenge in his voice. "If a millennium of precedent is not sufficient for you, then you are doomed to disappointment."
"And a society that does not evolve is doomed to stagnation and extinction," she returned smoothly. "If I have to drag the entire wizarding world kicking and screaming into the present, I will."
"I've no doubt that you will," he replied. "You may even get me to buy a green neck-cloth some day."
Hermione tilted her head to one side, giving him a frank appraisal, reveling in the right to do just that. "You know, I'd do just about anything to see you in a pair of jeans. I think they'd suit you."
Severus blinked at her, a ferocious scowl growing on his face. "In a pig's eye."
*****
An hour later, Severus held the garden gate open for Hermione and reset the wards once she'd passed through. He immediately set off down the cobbled street, his long legs covering ground quickly. Gamely, Hermione tried to keep up, but quickly fell behind.
"Could you possibly slow down?" she called, puffing slightly. Obligingly, Severus paused to allow her to catch up.
"Pomfrey's right, you are starting to waddle," he remarked, then had the audacity to look affronted when she smacked his arm. "Ow," he exclaimed mildly, though he was less than convincing.
"Oh, stop sniveling."
The corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-grin. "My apologies, Hermione," he told her sincerely. "My eagerness has outstripped my manners."
"So you do have some," she murmured, repaying his earlier comment, and got another of those faint grins in return. Hermione decided she rather adored those and resolved to make them happen as often as possible.
He extended an arm to her and she took it, tucking her hand into the warm crook of his elbow. At a more reasonable stroll they made their way to the center of the small village. Their unhurried pace and casual conversation went unremarked as they joined the other shoppers moving through the main thoroughfare.
For once, Hermione wasn't dragged to the Quidditch shop to exclaim over the latest innovations in equipment; instead they moved without any real discussion to the bookstore. Both of them browsed happily for some time, but neither found anything they could not live without. Zonko's Joke Shop was likewise overlooked without a qualm, though they lingered in front of a shop displaying several men's robes in the window.
"I'm going to burn that bed jacket of yours," Hermione warned Severus.
"Is that right?" he murmured back. "I'll have to put an Ignis Detterrere charm on it. I'm rather fond of it, actually."
"I'll buy you a new one. Green," she added impishly.
"I think not."
As they moved on, the scent of chocolate drifted through the air and drew Hermione to cross the cobbled avenue to Honeydukes. Severus cooperated with the tug on his arm and, once inside, looked around the sweet shop with a raised eyebrow.
"I haven't been in here for years," he commented.
Hermione left him to browse and went directly to the counter where pale rounded chunks of nougat flecked with nuts lay seductively behind the glass display. Mentally calculating the Sickles and Knuts in her coin purse, Hermione had the girl wrap up a quantity of the sticky stuff.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, actually. What are those?" she asked, pointing to a bin filled with multi-colored, sugar-coated lengths.
"Awful, aren't they? They're a Muggle treat. We figure the lads will go mad for them. Dead sour, they are."
Giggling, Hermione asked for a handful of the neon Gummi Worms to be bagged as well. A pair of hands settled on her shoulders, surprisingly casual despite the number of people around them.
"Feeling the need for a bean feast?" Severus asked.
"No, I've got that taken care of," she replied, indicating the bag waiting for her. " And I still crave sardines and peanut butter on occasion. I just thought Professor Dumbledore might enjoy these horrid things."
Severus eyes the neon colored worms with distaste. "He'll adore them. What do you think you're doing?" he asked as she held out the requisite number of coins to pay for her purchase. Reaching past her, he deposited several Sickles in the clerk's hand.
"I have it," she protested.
"Hermione, I can provide you pocket money."
"You don't even have a job," she pointed out, tamping down on the instinct to bristle at his old-fashioned attitude. "And I have all the money I didn't spend on clothes."
Snape made a non-committal noise, and put her money back in her purse. "I have more than enough for our honeymoon, Hermione. Keep your Sickles for now, and let me play the indulgent husband." He ignored her snort of disbelief. "I told you, I've a little laid by. If you insist, we can go to Gringotts in London one day next week and go over my bank account. We'll need to go anyway, to get your signature and wand authorized to make withdrawals."
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose we'll need to work out a budget to live on. And I'll need to get used to being Hermione Snape."
A variety of emotions flickered across his face, none long enough to be identified, before he nodded once. "I hope so," he murmured.
Once they'd exhausted the market district, Hermione and Severus walked further on through the village and followed the rough track on the other side of Hogsmeade. The road, if one were both myopic and generous enough to call it that, rose up and over the hills that quickly grew in the distance. After the first time Hermione stumbled, Severus kept a firm grip on her hand, his watchfulness both unobtrusive and unrelenting.
Sneaking a quick glance, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see her new husband was savoring this unexpected ramble. She'd never really thought of him as being the sort of person who enjoyed the outdoors, but Severus's face was creased in a faint smile, a touch of color rising in his face as they climbed the slight incline. She could feel her own face reddening from exertion, and the cloak was becoming uncomfortably warm. The muscles in her back, arched further than normal as they accommodated the change in her balance due to the baby, were beginning to protest as well.
She looked down at the large, square hand holding hers. How odd, to be holding hands with this man, on an outing that was curiously like a first date. They'd never had the opportunity to spend time together, other than the hours spent working together in the lab. A pang of longing hit her suddenly. She very much wanted this difficult, wary man to consider their relationship as something other than a burden or obligation.
Resolving to do whatever she could to further that goal, Hermione paused and took a deep breath.
"May I ask you a question?"
"You may ask me anything, Hermione." Before she could express her skepticism, he added, "However, I reserve the right to refuse certain answers."
She grinned, pulling several windblown strands of hair from her mouth. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you why you became a Death Eater, or why you turned to the Order. It's none of my business."
"It is your business," he replied stoically. "You're my wife."
"Then you'll tell me when you're ready," she responded, choosing discretion over curiosity. Some topics were obviously too tender to be probed, and their relationship was still fragile. "Your parents. Tell me about them."
Severus examined the far side of the valley, his black hair wavering around his face as the spring winds flirted with them both. They had paused at the summit of the hill, and Hermione sank down on a nearby boulder with relief. "My father was English, and I'm unhappy to say a good deal like Lucius Malfoy. The only difference being I once had a friendly relationship with that gentleman. I cannot say the same about my father." His eyes narrowed, but his voice remained silky and detached. "There's a great deal I COULD say about that particular individual, but I was raised not to speak ill of the dead."
"Ah," said Hermione, understanding a great deal anyway.
"My mother, however, is still alive, and currently lives in Naples."
"Really? Is it true what they say about Neopolitans?" Hermione had read somewhere that that particular region of Italy was known for being free- spirited and vivacious. From his comment regarding the nationality of his father, she assumed his mother was Italian. This assumption was immediately disproved with his next statement.
"My mother isn't a native, but being a full-blooded Rom she is quite at home."
"A Rom?" Hermione echoed. "You mean a Romany gypsy?"
She gaped at him, dumbstruck, and suddenly saw her husband in a new light - the dark hair, large nose, black eyes and sallow skin already darkening in the bright spring sunlight. He grinned at her, for once a full-on expression of enjoyment of her reaction.
"Well, I didn't mean a bloody Pikey, Hermione. My mother was born in a Romany caravan somewhere south of Russia. My father discovered her in 1943, I believe."
The irony in his voice warned her the match had not been happy, but then she knew that already. "Did she not have a choice?" Hermione asked carefully.
"Considering she was in a boxcar on her way to a concentration camp without a wand, I'd say not. He saved her life, and expected her to be grateful and obedient."
"And I'm sure that went over well."
That partial grin surfaced again. "Not exactly. I inherited my temper from both my parents, though Augustus was given to cold silences and my mother throws things. She's quite accurate - broke his nose for him once."
And then you became like him," Hermione said, then instantly wished she hadn't. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't make generalizations."
"Don't be," he told her. "I've told myself I acted like him because I thought it would make him approve of me. In truth, I was probably destined to be like that regardless of whether he approved of me or not. Either way, this is how I am, and I'm too old for extensive self analysis now."
"What was he like?" Hermione pressed, obliquely curious if Severus saw himself as others did.
"He was a cold man, a stickler for the rules and what is and is not accepted in society. I was expected to live up to those rules, even the ones my mother thought complete nonsense. If you thought Percy Weasley was a royal pain, you should have seen me. I lived the Hogwarts code of conduct as though they were the secret to immortal life."
Hermione smothered a giggle. "Sounds like me, my first year. I'd just found out I was a witch, and I wanted to fit in so much. It was just horrible, up until I became friends with Ron and Harry after the troll incident in the girl's bathroom." She gave him a speculative look. "Is that why Filch kisses up to you so much?"
Watch it," he warned her. "And I hardly call Potter and Weasley a good influence."
"They've taught me that some things are more important than following the rules. Like friends you can count on, no matter what."
Severus made no answer to that, and Hermione tilted her head to one side, considering his profile. "Are we friends?" she asked.
"We're married, Hermione. There are some that consider those two relationships mutually exclusive."
"I think Malfoy is an adequate substitute for a troll." She brushed another strand of hair from her face. "I'd like to think we can be friends."
"I will bow to your greater experience," he replied gently.
For a moment Severus wondered if James Potter might have become a friend if things had been different, but dismissed the thought. He was not one to waste time on might-have-beens. He had what could be in front of him, smiling faintly with the pleasure of his company and the offer of his friendship. Somewhere, he was sure, Fate was having a hearty chortle with Albus Dumbledore.
Severus woke with a start as Hermione threw off his encircling arm, and the sounds of her sobs and intermittent heaving drove the sleep away instantly. Concerned, he grabbed her bathrobe from the foot of the bed and then his own bed jacket.
"Lux," he snapped as he passed the sconce on the wall, and the light showed her nude form crouched on the cold tile floor, convulsing into the toilet bowl. At a loss for what to do, he draped the thick fabric over her bare shoulders and pulled her hair back out of the way as she retched helplessly.
When the worst seemed over, he poured a glass of water from the decanter he'd charmed earlier to taste of mint and pressed it into her hands. She'd stopped vomiting, but her continuing sobs worried him greatly. Wetting a towel, Severus gently wiped at the tears and other fluids on her face. She took it from him as her breathing evened out, the heaving gasps slowing out into shuddering breaths. Her arms slid into the sleeves of the robe and she pulled it around her, her hands trembling.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, pushing the stray tendrils of hair away from her face as she leaned weakly against the toilet. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Hermione's eyes widened and focused on him fully for the first time since she'd woken. Before he could formulate another question she seized the lapels of his quilted lounging jacket and pulled them wide. Shaking, her hands ran over the scar on his chest, then another on his ribs. Her palms were cold as they ran over his torso and shoulders, then his neck and face as though assuring herself he was kneeling with her on this hard floor.
"Hermione. Hermione!" He caught her hands with his own. "What's wrong?"
How could you?" Hermione demanded, tears in her eyes. "How could you do that?"
Consternation and dismay flitting across his dark eyes. "You've remembered," he asked, not really a question. His hands dropped.
"I remember. I remember everything. How could you just..." she was unable to find the words. She stared at him, tears spilling over again and running down her cheeks.
"I will leave," he said colorlessly, after a moment, and rose to his feet. Almost mindlessly he groped for his clothing, the sense of loss so tangible he could not bring himself to speak.
"Leave? NO!" She tore after him, grabbing his arms, trying to force him to look at her. "Not until you tell me why you'd let them do that to you! You didn't even try to fight back! You were going to let them kill you! By all that's holy, why?!"
Severus stared at her in shock. It vaguely occurred to him that she was not berating him for what he'd done to her, but what he had not done to save himself.
Why?" he muttered. "Why not? I once promised Albus I wouldn't kill myself. Why would I turn Malfoy down when he offered me such a gift?"
Hermione slapped him with all her furious dismay. "A GIFT?" she shouted. "LIFE is a gift. This baby is a gift! Death is a thief, it only takes away! How can you say that?"
His hands seized her arms and shook her. "Why would you care?" he demanded. "I raped you, I forced a child on you! After all that, you want me to live? Why?"
"Because I'm falling in love with you!" Hermione raged, her fists grabbing handfuls of the fabric of his robe. Her face crumpled as if she'd betrayed a horrible secret.
Speechless, Severus numbly closed his arms around Hermione as she buried her face in his neck. The wetness of her tears was like acid on the bare skin of his chest as he soothed her, his hands gently rubbing her back as Hermione continued to weep helplessly. He had no experience with this, but he could not deny the feel of her in his arms felt right; the bone-deep instinct to protect her was an urge he could not resist. Even so, he was still astonished at her pronouncement. Surely she could not be in earnest. She could not love him.
Slowly she calmed as he held her, although he was becoming uncomfortably aware that neither one of them were entirely covered by their respective robes, especially when she shivered and pressed closer to his body, reminding him he was bare from the thigh down. Her protruding stomach pressed into his own, further necessitating him to stoop over her slight form.
"Come," he told her. Hermione made no more than murmur of protest as he pulled away from her and guided her towards the bed, furtively pulling his bed jacket together. Listlessly scrubbing at her wet face with the cuffs of her bathrobe, she allowed him to put her under the covers. Her feet were icy, prompting Severus to cast a slight warming charm over the bedclothes as she sank back into the pillows and watched him wearily.
I'll be back in a moment," he told her. In the kitchen, a snap of his fingers conjured the house-elf who'd already dealt with the crumbs and dishes from supper. The creature bobbed its head at his request and within moments had a steaming cup of cocoa ready.
He took it back to the bedroom with him and put it in Hermione's hands. "Drink this," he told her. Obediently she sipped at it, and soon the pinched, white cast of her face relaxed as the chocolate and heat began to take effect. Her eyes, however, remained haunted, huge and dark as the rich beverage in her cup.
"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked, as he turned to pull on a pair of sleeping trousers.
"Only if you wish me to."
"Don't," she told him, her voice quavering slightly. "Please?"
Acquiescing, Severus settled on the corner of the bed, one long, lean leg still draped over the edge. "Drink your chocolate," he told her, his tone more brusque than he intended. She nodded and sipped again, but her gaze fell to the ebony wand thrust in the pocket of his robe.
"It survived," she whispered.
Before he could think better of it, Severus pulled the wand from his pocket and offered it to her. Hermione took it gingerly. The wooden shaft felt sturdy and warm in her fingers, and now she understood her earlier fascination with it; she'd used it before.
"You remember my giving it to you?"
She nodded minutely. "I remember everything that happened that night. I remember Malfoy putting the Imperius on you, and how hard you fought it." Silently she handed back the wand and swallowed more of her chocolate. Under the faded coverlet, her legs curled up and she settled deeper into the pillows.
"If you wish to return to Hogwarts in the morning," he offered gruffly, "or later this morning, I should say, I'll escort you back."
Inspecting her cup, Hermione shook her head. "I want to stay with you."
Severus had no answer to that; he could not imagine how she could even stand to be in the same house with him, let alone the same bed. She stirred under the covers and put her half-finished cocoa on the table beside the bed.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she said quietly, and slipped out of the bed. Severus nodded slightly and steeled himself to endure and wait for the inevitable.
In the lavatory, Hermione groped for toothbrush and paste. Her mind was mercifully silent as she cleaned her teeth, mechanically following the training ingrained since early childhood. The mint flavor removed the lingering second-hand taste of her dinner and the sugary coating of the chocolate, while the cold water soothed the last of the burning in her throat. Unfortunately, the running water also reminded her bladder of other needs.
Once that was taken care of, however, she was confronted with the evidence of the evening's previous activities. Her hip joints ached slightly, and the insides of her thighs were sticky with the combined remains of the passion she'd shared with Severus.
Breathing deeply, Hermione cleaned herself quickly and washed her hands. The mirror threw back an image of her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. She turned away from it, wrapping her arms around herself and willing herself to be calm. The nightmarish recollection of Halloween night loomed up, and to battle it she summoned the memory of strong arms around her shoulders just minutes ago like a protective cloak.
Leaning against the bathroom door, the chill floor pulling the warmth from her feet once more, Hermione concentrated on the last few hours. The feel of Severus Snape's shoulders under her own hands, the taste of his mouth when she kissed him in the kitchen. Block by block and memory by memory she used these more recent images to build a wall against the horrific episode her mind had finally revealed.
The baby chose that moment to begin sporting about, the tiny flutters having become stronger in the last few weeks until Hermione was beginning to wonder just how many extra arms and legs her child had. She ran a soothing hand over her belly, a slight smile coming to her face as she recalled how Severus had been utterly dumbfounded by the movement the one time he'd felt it.
Leaving the bathroom, she was rather startled to see her husband still sitting on the corner of the bed. He had not moved, and he was so motionless she wasn't even sure he was breathing.
"Severus?" she questioned.
He looked at her, and for just an instant the brooding expression on his face flickered, as if he'd expected her to strike him. She had, she remembered. Her palm stung slightly from the slap delivered earlier. The reddened patch on the length of his jaw drew her attention, and she moved forward to touch it gently. He continued to stare at her, as if waiting for some other words to come from her mouth.
"I'm so sorry," she told him. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
His hand captured hers in a breathtaking instant. "You're apologizing to me," he stated with disbelief. "Are you completely mad? You tell me you remember everything I did to you, and now you're sorry you slapped me?" A dry huff of laughter escaped from his chest. "Unbelievable."
Hermione stared into his dark eyes, finally realizing that he was waiting for her to reject him, deny him a place in her life and the marriage they'd just begun. His control was a thin veneer over the renewed guilt and self- loathing she'd first seen in Madame Pomfrey's hidden ward, and she was struck with the sense that she must handle the next few moments carefully or risk loosing any chance she had with this intensely complicated man.
"Severus," she said carefully, putting her other hand to his cheek. "You didn't hurt me of your own accord. We were both victims that night. Because of you, I'm still alive."
He pulled her second hand away as well, but kept his hold on both. "You saved yourself, Hermione. I only gave you the tools."
"We saved each other," she told him. "I'd still be dead if you hadn't helped me. Just like you've helped Harry, and heaven only knows how many others. And I'm very grateful to be alive, regardless of the complications."
"Motherhood at eighteen, and forced to marry the man you peers most despise. Your definitions need revision, I fear." The deep baritone of his voice lacked the usual stinging sarcasm, and Hermione felt sure he was truly listening to her. Another small push, and he just might give in and take her words for the truth. The awareness that this was another one of those defining adult moments bore in on her.
"I've never cared what my peers think. I only care about my own opinion. And for yours."
Still guarded, his gaze flickered across her face as he searched her expression for sincerity. Her heart ached for him, wanting him to believe that he truly had some worth in her estimation. Unable to think of anything else, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.
Shock kept Severus frozen for several long moments while Hermione pressed herself against him, her hands slipping from his grip and winding around his neck. It had been a very long time since he'd been taken by surprise, yet this young woman continually accomplished this. He levered himself to his feet, taking her in his arms and returned a kiss rapidly growing from absolution to passion.
His breath came in a shuddering gasp as he plundered her mouth. Strong, delicate fingers dug into his hair as her tongue dueled with his, tentative contacts swiftly growing into confident confrontation. Hermione's arms tightened before he could rein in the desire that shot through his body and draw away from her. "I hate this jacket," she muttered as she dragged it off his shoulders and spread her hands over the skin beneath.
A blast of desperate hunger went through him as her mouth left his to nip at the thin skin on his neck. Severus let out a groan and dropped his head to allow her access, intoxicated by the feel of Hermione's lips dragging across his collarbone. Their harsh breathing mingled as he captured her mouth again, crushing her to him in a kiss as violent as it was thorough, with only a small adjustment made to accommodate her waistline.
The bed was suddenly behind her, and Hermione dragged him down as much as he pushed her and they fell together into the tangled covers. Neither of them said a word as she ripped his robe from his arms and he blindly sought to open hers while shoving down the pajama pants. Their bodies merged once more, this time with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
The woman in her recognized the need that drove him and welcomed it with a warm, earthy joy. Hermione locked herself around him, felt his hands fisted into her tangled hair as he moved inside her, bringing her closer to that ecstasy that she had had only once before, but craved again. She felt greedy; greedy for his body and for his pleasure as well as her own, greedy for something she could not name but was certain she'd die if she did not receive it.
With a shout Severus plunged into her, his body shaking, muscles quivering with the strength of his release, and that took Hermione with him into a blissful completion. Moments later, still panting, he pushed himself to one side to take his weight from her body. Muscles in his arm and back burned from the effort of keeping from crushing her, but it had been more than worth it.
Hermione's dismay at his sudden withdrawal was mollified when Severus pulled her to his chest as he lay on his side, their legs still tangled together, both sheened with sweat and not caring. A sheaf of his black hair drifted across her face and she left it there.
Several long minutes passed before he could find the courage to speak. "Did I hurt you?" he asked in a subdued voice, his hand caressing her hip and the bulge between them.
"You could never hurt me," she responded sleepily. As if in confirmation, a hearty bump came from the center of her belly and she pulled his hand to it, lacing her fingers through his.
Severus tried to think of an appropriate response; of course he could hurt her. Had hurt her, raped her, and had just made love to her like a man possessed. Instead, he reached down to the tangled foot of the bed and drew up the covers. The chill of the room had quickly reasserted itself, and he carefully tucked the covers over Hermione's shoulders. She was practically asleep already, and merely opened her eyes a bit to see him arranging things.
Dark brown and honest, her sleepy eyes fairly shimmered with a contentment as alien to him as a feast offered to a drowning man, but the thought occurred that he could fall into their depths and drown forever. At a loss for words, he leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth.
Hermione only quirked a small smile in response. She was fading fast, but in her heart that tiny, greedy impulse was finally fed, and was satisfied.
*****
A wash of sunlight across the bed finally brought Hermione to full wakefulness, but the warm, surrounding cocoon of blankets left her loath to move. Instead she snuggled down further until a chuckle finally made her open her eyes. Black chest hair greeted her, and she followed them up to a shoulder, neck, and finally the face of Severus Snape. His fine black hair was a rumpled mess and he had a serious case of five o'clock shadow, but the lazy humor in his eyes was something she had never seen before. The corner of his mouth lifted into an approximation of a smile.
"Are you finally awake?" he teased her, and she managed to nod, a silly smile coming to her own face. "I was beginning to worry."
"Last night rather wore me out," she said lightly, but a shadow flickered across his face and made her regret that she had not been more specific.
"Everything all right?"
"All right," she agreed tentatively. "Let me go..." she nodded towards the bathroom.
In reply, Severus pulled her robe from the tangled covers and handed it over.
Hermione pulled it on, deliberately not making an effort to shield her body from his view. A few minutes later the pressure on her bladder had been relieved and her teeth were clean again. In the mirror, her face looked little different than it ever had, but a large purple spot on her neck testified that she had, indeed, been made love to the night before. Twice. A faint smile refused to leave her mouth and she decided that there was enough to smile about that she should leave it.
"I'm going to take a shower," she called out. "Well, bath then," she amended, looking at the taps. I'll be as quick as I can."
"Breakfast should be ready in a bit," he called back. "Is you digestion up to eggs, or just tea and toast this morning?"
"I'm starved," she called back. "I'll eat whatever you put in front of me."
With the promise of food, Hermione made her ablutions as quickly as possible, then gave her hair a merciless brushing and gathered it at the nape of her neck with a clip. Back in the bedroom, she found the house- elf, whom she still hadn't cornered far enough to even get its name, had made the bed and laid her bag out on the smooth coverlet, her wand still in the outside pocket where she'd left it. A blind grab found one of the robes Severus had bought for her on the day he'd proposed, and she did her best not to be nostalgic as she whisked the wrinkles out of it with a quick charm.
"Good morning," she said as entered the kitchen.
Severus looked up from the paper. "Good morning. Tea, or would you prefer coffee?" he asked as she sat down, his formal tones at odds with his unkempt appearance. He, too, she was inordinately pleased to see, had a mark on his neck.
"Tea, please." Her bubbling good mood was possibly inappropriate, she knew, and would probably irritate him, so she folded her hands and did her best to control herself. She watched his shoulders move under the heavy black silk robe as he poured and handed her a cup. The house-elf popped into view, startling a small 'eep' from her, and it presented her with a plate holding only slightly less food than she'd expect Harry to inhale after an early morning Quidditch practice.
"Thank you..." Hermione told it, drawing out the words in hopes that the elf would supply its name.
"You're welcome, madam," it squeaked and promptly Disapparated.
"Her name is Noggy, and she is part of the Hogwarts kitchen staff," Severus volunteered as he ate a rasher of bacon in quick, precise bites. "And although she's been offered clothes several times, she's quite loyal to Dumbledore and has refused each time. Which is why the Headmaster chose her for the task of looking after us."
"Oh," Hermione replied quietly. A thought occurred to her. "How do you get more house-elves, anyway?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, I've never seen an immature house-elf. And if you could turn someone into a house-elf, I'd nominate Lucius Malfoy in an instant. I think I could spend several centuries being creative, don't you?"
Severus didn't answer, but the look he gave her under lowered lids gave her his agreement. They ate in silence for several minutes until another thought came out.
"Lucius Malfoy really isn't an idiot when it comes to strategy, is he?"
Severus poured more coffee into his cup. "No, he's not."
"And he's still looking for you, isn't he?"
"Yes," he answered shortly. He waited for her to put it together, knowing the most brilliant student he'd ever taught wouldn't take long to make the connections.
"Once he finds out we're married, he'll assume I know where you are."
"Very likely. But," he interrupted, before she could begin with more questions, "this cottage is Dumbledore's safe house. It's unplottable, and only a few owls can find it. In addition, the Headmaster will be not be sending our marriage parchment to the Ministry until the last day of the holidays. By the time Malfoy find out we're married, you'll be safely back at school and I'll be enjoying the dubious company of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."
Plucking another strip of bacon from his plate, he added, "Another thing I meant to tell you. If on the odd chance anyone comes here other than Lupin, Black, or Dumbledore, I want you to go into the bedroom and close the door immediately."
"Are you expecting something to happen?"
"No, but there's no harm in being cautious. Many of the Headmaster's operatives know this as a refuge, and he's put up wards that even Voldemort would have trouble breaking. For the same reasons, however, anyone coming here may be followed, and I don't want you to be exposed to any danger."
He watched her slump slightly as she absorbed this news, and felt compelled to add, "By and large, however, we're simply on our honeymoon. With a few precautions, we should be able to carry on as usual."
Hermione perked up immediately. "Then we might get out for a bit?"
"Feeling claustrophobic already?"
"Aren't you?" she challenged. "You've been cooped up far longer than I have. Is it safe for us to go into the village?"
"Perfectly."
"Then I'd like to go for a walk this morning. Preferably sometime after you shave and before you start pacing."
Severus used his napkin on the corners of his mouth and tossed it down. "Point taken," he replied, rubbing a hand over his beard stubble. His eyes fell to her neck, and she knew he was looking at the love-bite on the side of her throat.
"ARE you all right?" he asked. "A stupid question, I'll grant you, but you didn't precisely answer the first time."
"I'm not sure a precise answer is possible," Hermoine said reflectively. You were right - I'm glad I hadn't remembered earlier than I did. On the other hand, it's something of a relief to finally know it all, no matter how traumatic. But to answer your question, I'm fine now. Really."
His dark eyes held hers. "Good," he told her, honesty filling his voice with a warm resonance.
The intimacy of the moment seemed too intense to be shared over eggs and bacon, and Hermione's agile mind quickly shifted gears. "You know what really irritates me about wizards?" she asked, munching on her toast.
"Narrowed it down to one thing, have you?" he asked, sotto voice.
The bubbling delight she'd felt earlier returned with Severus' unique brand of teasing, though she didn't allow it to distract her.
"There's no proper research done. You all go racketing about, assuming that if a spell's worked for years, it must be perfectly safe. Like Dumbledore's Anisthetae. He could likely have taken it off minutes after casting it; it obviously does its job very quickly. Some spells need to be held, obviously, but some just 'poof' and it's done."
"Most of the spells you've learnt at Hogwarts have been used for centuries."
"Have you ever examined a dragon's scale through a microscope? Or run a spectral analysis on a potion?"
"I'm not entirely certain what that is, but I doubt it's necessary," he replied repressively, though a hint of humor lurked beneath the challenge in his voice. "If a millennium of precedent is not sufficient for you, then you are doomed to disappointment."
"And a society that does not evolve is doomed to stagnation and extinction," she returned smoothly. "If I have to drag the entire wizarding world kicking and screaming into the present, I will."
"I've no doubt that you will," he replied. "You may even get me to buy a green neck-cloth some day."
Hermione tilted her head to one side, giving him a frank appraisal, reveling in the right to do just that. "You know, I'd do just about anything to see you in a pair of jeans. I think they'd suit you."
Severus blinked at her, a ferocious scowl growing on his face. "In a pig's eye."
*****
An hour later, Severus held the garden gate open for Hermione and reset the wards once she'd passed through. He immediately set off down the cobbled street, his long legs covering ground quickly. Gamely, Hermione tried to keep up, but quickly fell behind.
"Could you possibly slow down?" she called, puffing slightly. Obligingly, Severus paused to allow her to catch up.
"Pomfrey's right, you are starting to waddle," he remarked, then had the audacity to look affronted when she smacked his arm. "Ow," he exclaimed mildly, though he was less than convincing.
"Oh, stop sniveling."
The corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-grin. "My apologies, Hermione," he told her sincerely. "My eagerness has outstripped my manners."
"So you do have some," she murmured, repaying his earlier comment, and got another of those faint grins in return. Hermione decided she rather adored those and resolved to make them happen as often as possible.
He extended an arm to her and she took it, tucking her hand into the warm crook of his elbow. At a more reasonable stroll they made their way to the center of the small village. Their unhurried pace and casual conversation went unremarked as they joined the other shoppers moving through the main thoroughfare.
For once, Hermione wasn't dragged to the Quidditch shop to exclaim over the latest innovations in equipment; instead they moved without any real discussion to the bookstore. Both of them browsed happily for some time, but neither found anything they could not live without. Zonko's Joke Shop was likewise overlooked without a qualm, though they lingered in front of a shop displaying several men's robes in the window.
"I'm going to burn that bed jacket of yours," Hermione warned Severus.
"Is that right?" he murmured back. "I'll have to put an Ignis Detterrere charm on it. I'm rather fond of it, actually."
"I'll buy you a new one. Green," she added impishly.
"I think not."
As they moved on, the scent of chocolate drifted through the air and drew Hermione to cross the cobbled avenue to Honeydukes. Severus cooperated with the tug on his arm and, once inside, looked around the sweet shop with a raised eyebrow.
"I haven't been in here for years," he commented.
Hermione left him to browse and went directly to the counter where pale rounded chunks of nougat flecked with nuts lay seductively behind the glass display. Mentally calculating the Sickles and Knuts in her coin purse, Hermione had the girl wrap up a quantity of the sticky stuff.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, actually. What are those?" she asked, pointing to a bin filled with multi-colored, sugar-coated lengths.
"Awful, aren't they? They're a Muggle treat. We figure the lads will go mad for them. Dead sour, they are."
Giggling, Hermione asked for a handful of the neon Gummi Worms to be bagged as well. A pair of hands settled on her shoulders, surprisingly casual despite the number of people around them.
"Feeling the need for a bean feast?" Severus asked.
"No, I've got that taken care of," she replied, indicating the bag waiting for her. " And I still crave sardines and peanut butter on occasion. I just thought Professor Dumbledore might enjoy these horrid things."
Severus eyes the neon colored worms with distaste. "He'll adore them. What do you think you're doing?" he asked as she held out the requisite number of coins to pay for her purchase. Reaching past her, he deposited several Sickles in the clerk's hand.
"I have it," she protested.
"Hermione, I can provide you pocket money."
"You don't even have a job," she pointed out, tamping down on the instinct to bristle at his old-fashioned attitude. "And I have all the money I didn't spend on clothes."
Snape made a non-committal noise, and put her money back in her purse. "I have more than enough for our honeymoon, Hermione. Keep your Sickles for now, and let me play the indulgent husband." He ignored her snort of disbelief. "I told you, I've a little laid by. If you insist, we can go to Gringotts in London one day next week and go over my bank account. We'll need to go anyway, to get your signature and wand authorized to make withdrawals."
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose we'll need to work out a budget to live on. And I'll need to get used to being Hermione Snape."
A variety of emotions flickered across his face, none long enough to be identified, before he nodded once. "I hope so," he murmured.
Once they'd exhausted the market district, Hermione and Severus walked further on through the village and followed the rough track on the other side of Hogsmeade. The road, if one were both myopic and generous enough to call it that, rose up and over the hills that quickly grew in the distance. After the first time Hermione stumbled, Severus kept a firm grip on her hand, his watchfulness both unobtrusive and unrelenting.
Sneaking a quick glance, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see her new husband was savoring this unexpected ramble. She'd never really thought of him as being the sort of person who enjoyed the outdoors, but Severus's face was creased in a faint smile, a touch of color rising in his face as they climbed the slight incline. She could feel her own face reddening from exertion, and the cloak was becoming uncomfortably warm. The muscles in her back, arched further than normal as they accommodated the change in her balance due to the baby, were beginning to protest as well.
She looked down at the large, square hand holding hers. How odd, to be holding hands with this man, on an outing that was curiously like a first date. They'd never had the opportunity to spend time together, other than the hours spent working together in the lab. A pang of longing hit her suddenly. She very much wanted this difficult, wary man to consider their relationship as something other than a burden or obligation.
Resolving to do whatever she could to further that goal, Hermione paused and took a deep breath.
"May I ask you a question?"
"You may ask me anything, Hermione." Before she could express her skepticism, he added, "However, I reserve the right to refuse certain answers."
She grinned, pulling several windblown strands of hair from her mouth. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you why you became a Death Eater, or why you turned to the Order. It's none of my business."
"It is your business," he replied stoically. "You're my wife."
"Then you'll tell me when you're ready," she responded, choosing discretion over curiosity. Some topics were obviously too tender to be probed, and their relationship was still fragile. "Your parents. Tell me about them."
Severus examined the far side of the valley, his black hair wavering around his face as the spring winds flirted with them both. They had paused at the summit of the hill, and Hermione sank down on a nearby boulder with relief. "My father was English, and I'm unhappy to say a good deal like Lucius Malfoy. The only difference being I once had a friendly relationship with that gentleman. I cannot say the same about my father." His eyes narrowed, but his voice remained silky and detached. "There's a great deal I COULD say about that particular individual, but I was raised not to speak ill of the dead."
"Ah," said Hermione, understanding a great deal anyway.
"My mother, however, is still alive, and currently lives in Naples."
"Really? Is it true what they say about Neopolitans?" Hermione had read somewhere that that particular region of Italy was known for being free- spirited and vivacious. From his comment regarding the nationality of his father, she assumed his mother was Italian. This assumption was immediately disproved with his next statement.
"My mother isn't a native, but being a full-blooded Rom she is quite at home."
"A Rom?" Hermione echoed. "You mean a Romany gypsy?"
She gaped at him, dumbstruck, and suddenly saw her husband in a new light - the dark hair, large nose, black eyes and sallow skin already darkening in the bright spring sunlight. He grinned at her, for once a full-on expression of enjoyment of her reaction.
"Well, I didn't mean a bloody Pikey, Hermione. My mother was born in a Romany caravan somewhere south of Russia. My father discovered her in 1943, I believe."
The irony in his voice warned her the match had not been happy, but then she knew that already. "Did she not have a choice?" Hermione asked carefully.
"Considering she was in a boxcar on her way to a concentration camp without a wand, I'd say not. He saved her life, and expected her to be grateful and obedient."
"And I'm sure that went over well."
That partial grin surfaced again. "Not exactly. I inherited my temper from both my parents, though Augustus was given to cold silences and my mother throws things. She's quite accurate - broke his nose for him once."
And then you became like him," Hermione said, then instantly wished she hadn't. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't make generalizations."
"Don't be," he told her. "I've told myself I acted like him because I thought it would make him approve of me. In truth, I was probably destined to be like that regardless of whether he approved of me or not. Either way, this is how I am, and I'm too old for extensive self analysis now."
"What was he like?" Hermione pressed, obliquely curious if Severus saw himself as others did.
"He was a cold man, a stickler for the rules and what is and is not accepted in society. I was expected to live up to those rules, even the ones my mother thought complete nonsense. If you thought Percy Weasley was a royal pain, you should have seen me. I lived the Hogwarts code of conduct as though they were the secret to immortal life."
Hermione smothered a giggle. "Sounds like me, my first year. I'd just found out I was a witch, and I wanted to fit in so much. It was just horrible, up until I became friends with Ron and Harry after the troll incident in the girl's bathroom." She gave him a speculative look. "Is that why Filch kisses up to you so much?"
Watch it," he warned her. "And I hardly call Potter and Weasley a good influence."
"They've taught me that some things are more important than following the rules. Like friends you can count on, no matter what."
Severus made no answer to that, and Hermione tilted her head to one side, considering his profile. "Are we friends?" she asked.
"We're married, Hermione. There are some that consider those two relationships mutually exclusive."
"I think Malfoy is an adequate substitute for a troll." She brushed another strand of hair from her face. "I'd like to think we can be friends."
"I will bow to your greater experience," he replied gently.
For a moment Severus wondered if James Potter might have become a friend if things had been different, but dismissed the thought. He was not one to waste time on might-have-beens. He had what could be in front of him, smiling faintly with the pleasure of his company and the offer of his friendship. Somewhere, he was sure, Fate was having a hearty chortle with Albus Dumbledore.