Noggy the house-elf had a simple luncheon waiting when they returned from
their ramble. Afterwards, Severus suggested Hermione lie down for a rest,
insisting her health was more important than her studies.
"That sounds suspiciously like heresy, Professor," she replied cheekily. Intending to humor him, Hermione curled up on the bed with the worn quilt over her shoulders, fully expecting to get up within a half-hour and start on her homework. She woke two hours later, her eyes gritty but feeling marvelous.
Not comfortable with spreading her work on Dumbledore's desk, Hermione instead appropriated the formal table in the small dining room. Severus watched with some amusement as her books and papers gradually obscured the entire surface. Intending to allow her to work undisturbed, Severus browsed the Headmaster's shelves in his study and found a battered alchemy text. He settled into an armchair that coincidentally gave him a view through the wide doorway to the dining room and relaxed, flipping through the pages as he searched for the odd, interesting tidbits that complemented his own expertise. Once or twice he read them aloud to Hermione, who, rather than being bored, asked for more details before reapplying herself to her own books.
Observing Hermione as she methodically covered sheets of parchment in her round, efficient writing, Severus found himself spending more time contemplating his wife than looking through the book in his lap. Her hair was doing its best to escape the clip at the nape of her neck, springing free to frame her cheekbones with wavy streaks of dark honey. A frown of concentration came and went as she focused on the work before her, shifting books and muttering under her breath.
Bloody amazing, he thought, that such a remarkable young woman should be willing to marry a man such as himself. The few women he'd ever considered even attempting a permanent relationship with had been moderately intelligent, but he could not think of one who would have been even remotely interested in the morsels of obscure but fascinating information he'd found in the old textbook. Just as none of them would have had the strength to survive the assault Hermione had endured on Halloween, or the fortitude to save them both.
During the walk back to Dumbledore's cottage, Hermione and Severus had continued to discuss a wide range of topics, both profound and trivial. When he asked, she had related the details on their escape from Malfoy's hunting lodge. Severus himself had lost consciousness before Hermione freed herself that night, and possessed no memory of their escape from Malfoy's hunting. And although she attached no great importance to the fact that she'd saved his life along with hers, Severus certainly did. As a matter of fact, he was beginning to consider everything about Hermione as important.
*****
Later that evening, when Severus asked if she were ready for bed, Hermione was unaccountably overcome with shyness. Murmuring something vaguely affirmative, she preceded him to the bedroom and did her best to remain unflustered as he began to undress. Cleaning her teeth was a good excuse to disappear into the bathroom at that exact moment, and Hermione announced her intentions with her back turned to a partially nude Severus. She didn't come out until she heard the bedsprings creak.
When she came out of the bathroom, the room was dark other than the candles on either side of the bed and the faint red glow from the fireplace. Severus lay against the pillows, one arm behind his head. When he saw the long nightgown, his expression did not flicker in the slightest. He merely focused on the far wall and waited for her to get into bed.
He's disappointed, Hermione thought. And even though he was disappointed, she could also sense he had no intention of pushing the issue. The thought that he would consider her wishes before his own made Hermione feel curiously cherished.
Climbing under the covers, she rolled somewhat cumbersomely to her side and studied his profile. The golden light from the candles softened his harsh features, though it highlighted the diamond-shaped bump on his nose and his high cheekbones, and she wondered briefly what lines in his face would not have appeared if he hadn't taken the lonely, disastrous course he had.
"What?" he finally asked as her staring continued.
Hermione smiled, amused both by his irritation and by the fact that she was no longer intimidated by it.
"This is all rather new to me," she told him. "I'm in bed with a naked man." She'd caught a glimpse of his bare hip as she'd pulled the covers up. "Can't say that happened a lot."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "As your husband, I should approve. Can't have you romping about with naked men."
"Would you believe I've never even seen a naked man before? Let alone had full run of one?"
"Really?" he murmured, turning towards her, a subtle gleam appearing in his ebony eyes. Before she could ask what he meant by that, he leaned closer and brushed several light, teasing kisses across her lower lip.
Just as Hermione was deciding she rather enjoyed being kissed by this taciturn man and finding the passion hidden under his stalwart surface, he rolled away and lay on his back once more. With slow deliberation he pushed the blankets down his torso. A deft kick flipped them off the rest of him.
His entire body lay exposed, lean and nearly as pale as the white sheets on which he lay, with various scars marking his arms and chest. The remains of one cruel, ragged gash crossed over his hipbone. Crossing his ankles casually, he put one arm behind his head again and lay back, inviting her to explore.
Hermione swallowed the sudden dryness in her mouth and took a deep breath. Watching his face instead of the long male form stretched before her, she could just make out the slight tension in the skin around his eyes and the absolute stillness in which he lay, regardless of the relaxed posture. Remembering the wariness in his reaction the first time she'd reached out to touch him, Hermione came to the conclusion Severus was testing himself as well as her.
The difference between being pressured and being challenged was a subtle but highly important distinction, and one thing Hermione had always loved was a challenge. Methodical as ever, she began with his hands.
They were large and square, with close-trimmed nails and heavily calloused. Someone as tall and thin as Severus should have had spidery hands, but his were square and solid, belying the delicate control and sensitivity of his long fingers. She did not linger over the Dark Mark that lay like the gray shadow of an old burn on the inside of his left arm, but went on to stroke the thin skin inside his elbow and the texture of the veins. Her hands ran over his arms and shoulders, feeling the wiry muscles that had returned after his long convalescence.
Shifting closer to the head of the bed, Hermione traced his aquiline features. The dark fire in his eyes disappeared only in the moments when he blinked as her fingertips skimmed across his black eyebrows and the vertical slash between his brows. His lips parted as if he would say something, and though no sounds emerged, she could feel the tension in him changing from apprehension to anticipation.
Hermione extended her exploration to that part of him, kissing him lightly and repeatedly until his mouth opened under hers. As he granted her access, she deepened her attentions enough to discover a chip on one of his teeth. The heavy shadow of his beard growth was rough under her fingers, and even rougher against her lips as she kissed her way over his jaw and inspected his Adam's apple and the smooth skin over his collarbones.
Growing bolder, she toyed with the sparse hair across his chest like fine wisps of silk thread. He made a small noise as her palms skimmed over his flat nipples, and another as she tasted one and made it peak under her tongue. He was, she also found when he jumped slightly, ticklish over his ribs.
Severus' hands went to fists as she followed the black trace of hair down his abdomen to his navel. Hermione smiled at his groan as she passed over the obvious and moved on to press a gentle kiss to the jagged scar on his hipbone. The journey of discovery continued down his long, lean thighs, somewhat bony shins and sharp ankles. His feet were just as she remembered from the Handfasting ceremony, though she hadn't realized he had fine black hairs on the tops of his feet.
He was aching and upright when she at last maneuvered herself between his legs. The first position she tried proved awkward with her gravid belly in the way, so she wiggled until she could hover over him on her hands and knees. She inspected his arrousal, deliberately letting her hair drift over his thighs as she stroked his skin, intrigued by the reactions she induced. With gentle fingers she learned the heat and velvety textures, noticing as she did that Severus had closed his eyes, his unshaven chin pointing to the ceiling as he kept a firm hold on the edges of the mattress and his own self control.
Hermione wondered what it would take to make Severus lose that legendary composure, and decided to find out. One did not share quarters with Lavender Brown for six years without learning a thing or two, and she made a few plans even as she leaned forward.
A single gasp came out when her mouth descended on him but otherwise Severus remained silent, although his back arched, his heels dug into the mattress and the corded muscle on his arms stood out as she continued. Entranced by the power she wielded, a rush of arrousal and power washed over her as her husband writhed under her touch. Yet even in the heat of the moment she was delighted by his surrender, awed by the trust he showed by submitting to her ministrations.
One thing only remained, and breathlessly she urged him to give in to that as well.
"Let it go, Severus," she begged him. "Let me." Seconds later, under her redoubled efforts, his hands left their white-knuckled hold to tangle in her hair as he shuddered and came with a shout.
When Severus could think clearly again, he looked up at the smug look on his wife's face and laughed openly for the first time in their entire acquaintance. Pulling her down on his chest, he wrapped his long arms around her and kissed her thoroughly.
"Make one joke about being Head Girl," she warned him as she made herself comfortable within the circle of his arm and tucked her head under his chin.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "Just as I'm not going to ask where you learned that particular skill."
"Natural talent and second-hand research only," she told him archly. "My resources tell me you're supposed to swallow, but that's just disgusting."
"Hmm. If Miss Brown's reality is half her reputation, you've learned from the best."
Hermione gave his chest a half-hearted smack. "Lavender's reputation is exaggerated. She's only ever loved Seamus Finnegan."
"I'll take your word for it." He took a deep breath. "Thank you. That was wonderful."
"You're welcome," she murmured, sliding her arm across his torso. There was something alluring about the feel of his skin under her cheek and the short, crisp hairs under her palm. As her thumb passed over one nipple, her fingers grazing the slight definition of his pectoral muscle, his own hand flattened on top of hers and stilled her movement.
"Hermione?"
"Umm?"
"Are you familiar with the concept of libramentum?"
She sighed into his skin. "A potion that's been brought into balance, the acid or alkaline adjusted. Third year stuff."
"Hmm. What about quid pro quo?"
"This for that," she answered, eyes still closed, feeling warm and just a little sleepy.
"How about. sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander?"
The sleepiness disappeared instantly as Hermione's eyes flew open. Craning her neck up, she could make out the heat in Severus' eyes. His black hair hung in untidy clumps around his face, and it occurred to her that it was trying to curl. The preparation he used on it must be intended to keep the fine silk of his hair from going insane in the heat and humidity of his classroom.
You're the one who's absolutely insane, Hermione told herself. The man wants to do THAT to you, and you're thinking about his hair?
His expression changed, and when he opened his mouth she was sure it was to tell her it was all right that she didn't want him to reciprocate. With a lunge she reached his mouth before a sound came out.
Despite her passive pose as she lay back and allowed Severus to do as he willed, Hermione felt much more involved in this act of lovemaking than she had the night before. That had been an overwhelming rush of passion that had swept them both along to conclusion. By contrast, this was active partnership, relaxing under his touch, responding to his mouth and hands and half-whispered comments. She also felt a great deal of astonishment as she realized her own inability to stay silent under the sensual onslaught.
She barely recognized her own voice as she gasped and pleaded, crying out in ecstasy as he teased and learned her own secrets, ones she herself had never discovered. At last he relented and moved up from between her thighs, covering her body with his own as he filled her once more. The last vestige of her modesty disappeared in the face of burning need, her nails digging into his biceps, her sharp heels hooked around his calves as she pulled him into herself.
*****
Although a morning walk had quickly become a habit, Hermione and Severus skipped it a few days later and instead Apparated to London. The Leaky Cauldron's back entrance let them enter Diagon Alley and they casually walked through the morning shoppers much as they had two months earlier.
Nervously arm in arm with Severus, Hermione carefully kept her cloak around her body with the hood up in case anyone from Hogwarts should see them together. The last thing they needed was wild rumors about her pregnancy swirling around when term began again. Careful plans had already been laid for that revelation, and it would not do to have it prematurely revealed.
They made it to Gringotts without seeing anyone, however, and entered the goblin's domain without incident. The sullen goblin behind the counter presented Hermione with a ledger where she signed with the name Hermione Snape for the first time, using a purple ink that turned green on the page. The goblin then took her wand from her and weighed it on a small golden scale. The other side of the scale had only a crystal disk instead of the standard brass bowl, but it swiftly bobbed into equilibrium. Peering at the scale, the goblin scribbled down some notation and then handed back the wand with a rude 'good day' before turning away and dismissing them entirely.
Casually Severus offered to take Hermione down to his vault to check the balance on his account, but after a moment spent contemplating the stomach- wrenching ride involved, she decided against it. Instead she proposed they wait until school was finished to worry about money, to which Severus agreed with somewhat suspicious speed. He did ask her to accompany him to the small alchemist's shop where she'd fainted during their last trip. The sharp-eyed alchemist remembered them, asked after the experiments Severus had discussed during their first visit, and when their recent marriage was revealed, made so bold as to wish them joy.
As though he was afraid Hermione would faint on him again, Severus kept one hand under Hermione's elbow as he shepherded her back to the Leaky Cauldron. Even though it was still early, he led Hermione to a small table and announced his intention of getting her something to eat. Behind the bar, the toothless landlord Tom nodded at Severus' imperious motion for service as he pulled out a chair out for Hermione before taking a seat just opposite.
Beginning to chafe under his protective attitude, Hermione shrugged off her cloak and agreed to tea and a small snack. Severus seemed a bit distant, no doubt remembering the last time they'd been in the establishment, and Hermione felt a flicker of guilt for her behavior at that time. His severe demeanor was reinforced by the black frock coat and neck cloth he habitually wore, reminding her of his worst Potions Master disposition.
With some trepidation, Hermione leaned forward and addressed her husband of three days.
"May I ask you a question?"
"Hermione," he began with mild asperity, "in the nearly seven years I have known you, nothing short of being petrified by a basilisk has ever stopped you from asking a question. If we're to spend a significant portion of our lives in each other's company, it would save a great deal of time if you'd simply ask the question to begin with."
The mild irritation she'd felt earlier flared to full life. "Fine," Hermione told him, in a voice that said the gloves were off. "Why are you such a bastard to your students?"
The corner of his mouth twitched in appreciation for her directness. "Several reasons," he replied frankly. "Firstly, I detest teaching those who don't wish to learn. It's a waste of my time and abilities, although, if you'd have noticed, both Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are vastly over-qualified for their positions as well. Hogwarts is an excellent school, but you'll never find another with such a skilled and exceptional staff." He paused while a teapot and a selection of cakes and other assorted treats were presented. When they both had a cup of tea and a plate in front of them, he continued.
"Secondly, I had a reputation to uphold as a Death Eater on Dumbledore's leash. It allowed me to hold a position over the largest contingent of students whose parents were likely to be supporters of Voldemort. By favoring my Slytherins and being vile to the others, I presented not only an example of the worst sort of favoritism the rest of them could expect when they're introduced to adult life, but had the added benefit of giving the junior Death Eaters a nasty shock when they join the fold and realized they were actually expected to look after themselves."
"You enjoy it, don't you," Hermione accused, though her amusement was evident. "Playing the tyrant, scaring the wits out of your students."
"Perhaps," he hedged modestly. "Those few who had wits. And use the past tense, if you please. My most fervent dream is to never step foot in a classroom again. But for the third reason, let me ask you a question. Do you realize that Durmstang is the only other major wizarding school which employs a Potions Master?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Beauxbatons and The Salem Academy in the Americas, on average, have two students each school year who are severely injured in the Potions classroom. Salem is considering changing their curriculae to leave the more advanced potions until their students are older. In my classes, however," he continued with sadistic pride, "students who were scared to death of me seldom had the audacity to act up in my class, and they jolly well learnt what I taught them."
Hermione smirked at his self-assurance, remembering what she and Ron and Harry had gotten up to.
"If I remember correctly," he said, his baritone turning sharp, "it was a simple enlarging potion you sabotaged. Tell me, would you attempt such a thing now that you're older, into more elaborate and dangerous potions?"
"Gods, no. If the potion didn't kill us, you would."
"Better me than the potion. Anything I ever did to those brats involved detentions and copious lashings of sarcasm. But let the little monsters bollocks up some of the more dangerous potions, and lives could be lost."
He regarded her with a satisfied expression, then narrowed his eyes. "That's not the question you were going to ask, is it?"
"No, actually," Hermione admitted freely. "But since you're being so damned honest, I'm not letting you off the hook now. Tell me why you dislike Harry? Was it because of his father?"
"No," Severus replied with a sigh. "Although I despised his father, I don't dislike Harry Potter. I distrust him. There's a difference."
"Not trust him? Why ever not?"
"When I learned how the Dursleys had raised the boy, I don't think I've ever been more apprehensive in my life," Severus began slowly. "A boy going from a life of repression and unhappiness to a world where he would be petted and adored by all. James Potter was exceptionally powerful, and Lily was not to be underestimated," Severus continued brusquely. "The temptation for Harry to abuse both his power and his position was a very real consideration."
"Harry would never do that," Hermione protested. "He hates the publicity and the people who stare at his scar and everything that goes with it."
"Perhaps," Severus allowed. "But... it would not be the first time a student, overly indulged by teachers who thought him brilliant, came to a bad end because imagined himself superior to his peers."
With a start, Hermione understood Severus was speaking of himself. Impulsively she reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. "Harry's not like that," she told him, speaking both about her best friend and the man before her. "He's a good, honest, honorable person. The only thing Harry truly wants is a family. You can see it in his eyes, sometimes, especially when he's around the Weasleys. They all love him like a brother."
"With the possible exception of Virginia Weasley," he observed in a dry tone. "There's no doubt in what light she considers that young man.
"Now then," Severus told her, the humor restored to his expression. "Why don't you tell me what you were really going to ask."
"I was going to ask you if you'd noticed Tom was acting a bit strange. He's been staring at us from the bar and whispering to people ever since we came in. Probably talking about the flaming row we had last time."
"He's taking bets," Severus replied casually. "And it wasn't a row. I doubt it even qualified as a spat." His fingers tightened, reminding her they were still holding hands on top of the battered wooden table. "One thing I have always appreciated about you, Hermione, if not exactly admired, is that you give as good as you get. It's something we'll no doubt see more of, given our respective temperaments."
"He's betting on whether or not we're going to argue again, isn't he?" she asked, oddly heartened by the simultaneous compliment and insult.
"Most likely."
"Are we?" she asked, eyes sparkling at the temptation to make a deliberate scene.
"Actually, I was thinking of breaking the pot for him," Severus admitted. "Imagine how the odds would skew if I kissed you instead."
A warmth suffused Hermione's body. Despite the passion they shared in bed and the ring on her finger, Severus continued to treat her with a civil, polite manner during their daylight hours together, something she found rather frustrating at times. Not she'd been all that forward herself.
"I wouldn't mind that," Hermione told him. "Actually, I'd like it very much. I wasn't sure you cared for it, really."
Severus watched the hint of pink appear in her cheeks. "You're very much mistaken, Miss Granger. I do, indeed, care for it. Really." he emphasized the last word quite heavily.
Astonishment and anticipation vied with each other as Hermione took in the highly unusual sight of Severus Snape actually flirting with her. Ron and Harry would have died on the spot, but she dismissed her friends from her thoughts as a sensual smile grew on her lips. "I'm not Miss Granger any longer. Remember?"
"I tend to forget a great many things, lately," he returned smoothly. "Especially when I'm about to kiss you."
Hermione could feel the blush intensifying on her cheeks. ~Ten points for Slytherin, Professor,~ she thought, ~and could you possibly teach a class on this?~
"Are you finished?"
She nodded, and when he held out his hand, she took it and allowed him to assist her up out of the chair. He did not relinquish his grip, but pulled her closer. "Ready?" he whispered, devilish amusement lingering in his voice, his eyes carefully not falling on the huddle of wizards and witches shooting furtive glances their way. Hermione nodded again, and lifted her mouth slightly to meet his.
What she'd expected to be a casual buss quickly deepened, and her eyes drifted shut on the sensual tide of his mouth moving over hers. Warm and seeking, the kiss intensified until, when they came up for air at last, she was clinging to his coat, breathing unsteadily, and Severus himself looked slightly dazed.
"Home?" he questioned.
"Oh, I think so," Hermione agreed. Neither one bothered to see who received what pay out at the bar.
*****
Afterwards, Severus had the nerve to insist Hermione should remain in bed, since she needed all the rest she could get.
"Your NEWTS will be exactly seven weeks away when you return to school," he reminded her. "And I hold more hope of being awarded an Order of Merlin than I do of you taking proper care of yourself." His stern admonishment might have been taken more seriously if he'd been wearing more clothing, however.
Hermione propped herself up on the pillows and applied her appetite to the sliced fruit on the plate Severus had brought her. If Noggy thought anything odd about her charges taking their lunch to the bedroom, the elf in question did not put in an appearance to protest, and together they began to put a serious dent in the food nicked from the kitchen.
"I have a reputation to uphold," she reminded him, though he was correct in his assumption that the final stretch of school would be grueling for someone as studious as herself.
"Your reputation will be changing radically once word of this gets out," he told her, stroking her bare stomach reverently. The six-month fetus inside responded by kicking energetically, and he paused, a rare smile erupting as he detected the slight movement.
"I meant as Head Girl. I absolutely have to score better than Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson. Or else," she finished with a glower.
"You will, I'm sure. Especially Parkinson. Mr. Malfoy might actually have a chance to score well, but he'll need to study very hard indeed to get his marks anywhere near yours."
"Did you just complement me on my schoolwork?" Hermione queried, with a touch of disbelief.
"You'll never prove it," Severus warned her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry. Your marks have been for the most part the highest in Hogwarts history. You've even beaten some of mine."
"And all this time you've acted as though I were pond scum walking upright," she said with mock severity. "I hope you enjoy the taste of crow, because you're eating some right now."
Severus' face fell into uncompromising blankness. As it so often happened, Hermione knew she had somehow floundered into the unseen depths of the relationship between them, stepping blindly into some morass of hidden meaning behind her innocuous words.
"What is it?" she asked gently, having little hope he'd actually tell her. To her surprise, he put the remains of his meal down and pushed the plate to one side.
"You're Muggle born, Hermione, and yet you are without a doubt the most brilliant student I've ever taught. You are everything that disproves what Malfoy and his merry band of murderers profess. It terrifies me, sometimes."
"That I'm smart?" she asked, voice quavering.
"No, never that. Thinking about how much of a threat you are to them. Just your existence proves how wrong their beliefs are."
"That's.that's why he wanted to kill me, isn't it?" Hermione ventured. "That's why he did that to me."
"Malfoy always has more than one iron in the fire when he's up to something, but yes," Severus admitted heavily.
"Is that why you intervened?" she asked quietly. "Because you thought I was a symbol? Because I'm smarter than Pansy Parkinson? Or Hannah Abbot?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, Severus rolled onto his back and stared pensively at the ceiling. "Hermione... If it had been anyone else lying there, I'd have made some protest on the stupidity of pulling Dumbledore's beard, but I would not have made any further effort to stop it. I'd have stood by and watched them rape and destroy one of my students and when her body was found, I'd have signed my name to the staff condolence card without a second thought."
Hermione was nearly speechless. "I don't believe you. I'm no different from any other student at Hogwarts."
"Of course you are, you foolish girl," he snapped, and then rolled and pinned her with a dark stare. "You knew, Hermione. You lay there on that filthy floor and stared up at me and you could have betrayed me with a few words -- bargained for your life and destroy me utterly. But you didn't. You would have died without telling them."
"Maybe you should have let me die," she said recklessly.
Don't say that!" he hissed furiously, his hand shooting out to grasp her arm.
"How many people have died since you lost your place in the Death Eaters?" she pressed. "How many people could have been saved if you still were in Voldemort's confidence?"
"It doesn't matter, Hermione."
"It does matter. You stabbed Lucius Malfoy. You could have killed him."
"That was the intention," he said flatly, and she was reminded of how dangerous her husband could be, his deep voice all the more menacing here in the ravaged tableau of their bed. Instead of fear, though, her outrage stiffened her spine and her resolve to have this out with him.
"And then you would have let them kick you to death, because you thought you deserved nothing more. Well, I'm telling you that you do deserve more."
His silence irritated her, and she rolled her awkward body close enough to touch him. "I want to ask you something," she began, and when he raised a disbelieving eyebrow, snapped, "Oh, shut up. Were you in love with Lily Evans?" The jealous suitor had been a favorite theory Ron and Hermione had cooked up but never dared share with Harry.
To her surprise, Severus chuckled. "No," he answered. "It wouldn't have been difficult to fall in love with her, but I had more sense. I also no more patience with her clownish friends that I have for yours. Little patience for anyone, for that matter," he added.
"Have you ever loved anyone?" She turned to look at him. "I'm not asking that just to be bitchy. I honestly want to know. Have you ever allowed yourself to love anyone?"
His eyes turned dark with sorrow and regret, wary of her reaction. It was his turn to be surprised, however, as Hermione showed no signs of being hurt by his inability to profess an emotion he had no familiarity with.
"I understand that you don't love me, Severus," she told him patiently. His eyes flicked away from her face, but she didn't stop. "And while I never expected to get married and have a baby right away, it's what I've got. And I certainly never expected to find myself falling in love with you, but I meant it on our wedding night and I mean it now. I am falling in love with you."
"I think," he began carefully, "that you've allowed yourself to exaggerate whatever regard you might have for me. It would be far wiser for you to.not become attached to me."
Too bad," she retorted. "This isn't a mini-break shagfest."
Severus blinked in disbelief. "A what?"
"My cousin Lucy," Hermione explained with a sigh. "She goes through men like Professor Dumbledore goes through lemon drops, and she always breaks up with them right after a three-day mini-break. She calls them shagfests. But that's not us," she insisted.
"Hermione," he groaned in a low voice, but she placed her fingers over his lips to forestall whatever he was about to say, determined to finish what she'd been thinking for several days.
"There was a priest at my primary school," Hermione told him, "who once told me that forgiveness wasn't given because it was earned, or deserved, but because someone needed it."
Severus' eyelids lowered, shuttering out all subjects of forgiveness for sins past, but that wasn't Hermione's point. "I love you," she continued, "not because you deserve it, or you've earned it, because, really, we don't actually know each other all that well. But I love you, because you need it. I'm not asking you for anything, Severus, and you don't have to say anything. Just accept it."
For several long, anxious minutes, Severus Snape remained silent, though his eyes searched her face for heaven only knew what, his expression flickering through a kaleidoscope of emotions, each replaced by another before Hermione could tell what he was thinking. At long last the tension slowly bled from his body. With gentle formality he reached for Hermione's hand, capturing her fingers in his own and pressed a kiss into her palm.
*****
One morning, just as Hermione was beginning to lose track of the days of the week, Severus showed her a slip of parchment from Dumbledore. Noggy had delivered it early that morning and, miffed at being used as an owl, had burned every single piece of toast on the breakfast table.
"Your parents are expecting us this afternoon," he related in a lowering tone. "The Headmaster has it all arranged."
"It's Wednesday, isn't it," Hermione replied absently as she looked over the short note. "They usually work half-days on Wednesday and Saturday."
She appeared resigned, but became more and more unsettled as the day wore on. "Do we truly have to go visit them?" she groused some hours later, wearing nothing but her underwear whilst staring at the clothes hanging in the press. She was absolutely dreading this meeting, and Severus gave her a stern look.
"I have faced the Cruciatus Curse, Hermione. I somehow doubt a pair of dentists from Surrey can be any worse."
"They're going to scold me, and make me feel like a child."
"Parents always treat their offspring like children, regardless of how old they are. The last time I spoke to my mother, she insisted I wear my galoshes and a sweater so I wouldn't catch cold."
"How old were you?"
"It was eight months ago," he enunciated through clenched teeth.
"Can I meet your mother some day?" she asked innocently.
He gave her a long, considering look. "No. The both of you harping at me would be unbearable."
"You're no fun," she sighed, and pulled out the one Muggle maternity dress she'd bought on their foray into London. "I can't wear this," Hermione declared, holding the Muggle dress against herself. It was a pale yellow, and did nothing for her hair or coloring. She scowled at her reflection, daring the mirror to say a thing. It was, mercifully, a non-enchanted mirror and remained silent.
"They want to see you, not your wardrobe," Severus told her, sensing a hormone-fueled disagreement in his future. "You'll look fine," he promised.
"I look like Buddha," she retorted sharply, pulling the fabric against her stomach.
"Hermione," he stressed, putting the most patient tone he had into his voice. "You're lovely, no matter what you wear."
Hermione's eyes narrowed at him in the mirror. "Do they teach you to lie convincingly in Slytherin House, or is it an innate ability?"
He caught her in his arms and kissed her shoulder next to her bra strap. "You have no idea, do you?" he murmured.
"Of what?"
"How very enticing you are." She snorted, but didn't object when he moved his lips behind her ear and tasted the skin at her hairline. "All of you, Hermione. Your mind, your body, your hair..."
"My hair," she laughed in disbelief.
"Your skin...Gods above, Hermione. Your skin...I swear it's addictive." He was nipping the tender curve of her neck, lavishing open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder, his tongue tasting her and causing deep waves of longing to go through her.
"It's just pheromones, Severus," she breathed, having trouble remembering what she was saying as his hands tugged the dress from her grip and his long fingers splayed across her round stomach, pulling her back against his hips. "My body's a tanker factory of chemicals." Scowling at her round potbelly, Hermione pulled the waistband of the enormous, horrid panties up another inch. "Literally."
A non-committal grunt was her only answer, though his hands pulled the waistband out of her grip and pushed it down onto her hips and then lower.
"We'll be late," she gasped, even as his fingers slid between her thighs.
"That's what magic is for," he assured her, just before he picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he shoved his own clothing out of the way and laid her down.
*****
With a 'pop' two figures appeared on the front stoop of Frank and Cecilia's townhouse.
"We're only two minutes late," Hermione announced, her cheeks still delightfully flushed and contrasting well with the colorful silk scarf Severus had conjured and tied around her neck at the last minute. It covered almost all of the purple marks he'd inflicted.
Snape unwrapped Hermione from his embrace and checked up and down the street to be sure they had not been seen appearing out of thin air. The early afternoon sunlight glinted off the autos parked on the street, and he stifled his reaction to the ugly conveyances. It would not do to meet his in-laws with a sneer, however, and he carefully schooled his features to a milder expression. Hermione caught his face, though, and gave him a thoughtful look.
"You know, one good dose of Severus Snape the Potions Professor should send them running. Then we could leave right away."
"I'll behave myself, if you will," he retorted with a raised eyebrow, then took her hand and resolutely rang the bell.
The Grangers must have been waiting for them, for the door was swiftly opened, and a pleasant faced, middle-aged woman greeted Hermione with a swift hug, restraining herself when she felt the curve of the baby.
"Come in, come in," urged Mrs. Granger quickly, and they were ushered into the home that had seen Hermione grow from a child to an adult. Introductions were made, and Severus quickly sized up his father-in-law; a tall man, once fit but going slightly paunchy in his forties. His handshake was firm, and Snape had to give the man points for shaking hands instead of immediately attacking the libertine who had debauched his little girl.
"Why don't we sit down?" suggested Hermione's mother nervously.
"Right," said Frank Granger firmly. "Then I think I'd like an explanation, if you please."
"Dad," Hermione began, only to stop when Severus put his hand under her elbow. He pushed her gently to precede him and took a seat beside her on the comfortable sofa.
"I take it Hermione has not informed you of the entire circumstances that have led to our marriage." It wasn't a question, but Hermione's mother treated it as such.
"No, she hasn't. I must say I'm not at all pleased with the running of that school if a student has become involved with a teacher, and worse."
"Hermione and I did not become involved, as you put it," Severus told her, keeping the edge from his voice with effort. "On the night of Halloween last, your daughter was abducted by Death Eaters. They intended to rape and murder her that night.
"Forgive my bluntness," he continued, overriding their gasps of outrage and dismay, "but you need to understand Hermione is blameless in this matter. Her only fault is a surfeit of compassion."
"Death Eaters?" questioned Cecilia Granger. "Those are the brutes who follow that chap Voldemort, aren't they?"
"They are," Severus told her. "How did you know of them?"
Frank Granger gave Hermione an apologetic look. "Well, we've had the Weasleys over for dinner a time or two."
"You've what?" Hermione was astonished. "And you never told me?"
"Well," said her mother, "you and Ron were dating at the time, dear. They're quite nice, although Arthur comes over a bit odd every time I plug something in."
"We were all of us rather hoping you and Ron would work out. No offense, Professor," Frank Granger added to his son-in-law, sounding not in the least apologetic.
"I understand. I, too, once thought I'd see Hermione take the name of Weasley. Though I'll admit I was less than thrilled at the idea."
"Don't tell me you fancied our girl even then," asked Cecilia, alarmed.
"No. But Ron Weasley wouldn't have made her a good match. He's a decent lad, but he doesn't understand a mind like Hermione's."
"This wizard -- Voldemort. Arthur Weasley told us about him. What did he want Hermione for?" demanded her father. "Or a teacher, for that matter."
In a bald, uncompromising narrative, Severus outlined the events of Halloween and the following weeks. Hermione elaborated where he glossed over his own injuries, and the cause. Between the two of them, they managed to relay the convoluted path to their present circumstances.
"So. Severus," began Frank, as they sat in the living room holding cups of various contents. Over the past hour, they'd progressed to a first-name basis. Frank had offered scotch, and Severus had accepted with previously unsuspected grace; Hermione and her mother drank tea. "You and Hermione... are married, then."
"Yes. We were handfasted last week."
"Handfasting has the same legalities as marriage, Mum. It's just a wizarding ceremony rather than a church. Sort of like going to a magistrate."
"I see," temporized her mother, sipping her tea. "You'll have to understand, we're very shocked at the suddenness of this, Severus. We always expected Hermione to finish school and go on to university..."
"And she will," countered Severus. "Hermione is one of the brightest minds it has ever been my privilege to instruct. I will do all that is in my power to be sure she continues her education."
"But how can you expect to support her?" injected her mother. "Hermione tells me you're no longer a professor at Hogwarts. How can you provide for her?"
Snape let out a soft laugh, which surprised Hermione as well as her parents. "Supporting Hermione is not a problem. I had thought to rent a cottage in Hogsmeade after Hermione finishes school, where we can live until the baby is born and Hermione decides where she will attend and what she will study. Once we've settled that, we'll make arrangements to live near the school of her choice. I was rather hoping she'd consider l'Universite d' Arcanum in Rome, but she'll have to brush up on her Italian. A pipedream, I know, but my family has a lovely villa just on the outskirts of Naples."
Leaning back on the sofa, he saw Hermione's suspicious frown and raised a single eyebrow at her. In truth, she had wondered how they would live, but other arrangements for their hasty wedding had intruded and she hadn't wanted to interrupt their honeymoon with harsh realities. Now she regarded him with a puzzled expression, and Severus began to enjoy himself immensely. It was rather nice, knowing that he had married a woman ignorant of his true means after so many years avoiding the gold diggers that flocked to him on the rare occasion he'd bothered to show in social settings.
"A villa? In Naples?" echoed Hermione, and he gave her a bland look.
"Just outside, actually, though my mother lives there currently, so I think that won't suit." He frowned thoughtfully, as though choosing between two biscuits in a tin. "We also have a great hulking pile of an estate in Kent, but I haven't been there in years. I think, on the whole, it would probably be best if we simply rented a house. I'll have my mother send over a house elf or two to change the nappies and such while you're in class."
Hermione's parents exchanged a look, having been instructed on the servitude of house-elves and the social status of those who owned them, while Hermione herself simply goggled at her husband. The casual mention of estates and villas was further proof that the man in their living room was no itinerant schoolteacher.
"You're telling me..." Hermione sputtered, much to Severus' amusement, "do you mean to sit there and tell me that you're rich? Not just a little saved up over the years, but flat out rich?"
"Ten points to Gryffindor, Hermione. Though you could have known that at any time if you'd looked me up in the social registry." He laughed as she reached out to box his ears, but he quickly dragged her to his side, wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. She settled, still disgruntled, and Snape looked over at his parents-in-law, who had not missed this byplay.
"I assure you, Frank, and you, Cecelia. I am quite prepared, financially, to take care of Hermione and our child. Even without my family fortune, I am still a Potions Master. As such, I can approach any wizarding firm in any country and offer my services for whatever sum I chose."
"I thought a Potions Master was a bit like being a chemist," ventured Cecilia Granger, and her daughter felt the man in question stiffen.
"Mum, a chemist is what we call an apothecary," Hermione corrected quickly. "A Potions Master is more like someone with a doctorate in Biology, Chemistry and several others."
"However, there is still one other matter we must discuss." He twined his fingers with Hermione's, and she swallowed suddenly at the seriousness with which he regarded her.
"The wizarding world is currently in a state of war. Voldemort is gathering his strength to overtake all that Hermione and I value, and we will soon find ourselves fighting for our lives."
"Not Hermione!" protested Cecelia, and Snape frowned.
"No. Not Hermione. Though if she were not with child, I doubt any of us could keep her from Harry Potter's side. But the battle is coming, and all of us are going to be fighting, very soon. Including myself.
"I am officially a teacher, or was. But for many years I was also a mole. A spy, to put it bluntly, and I will soon be resuming that endeavor. I can promise you that I will take care of Hermione to the best of my ability. But my work is dangerous, and it is possible that I may not survive to see my child born."
Hermione could not protest aloud, but closed her eyes against the tears and leaned her forehead against Severus' shoulder. He put his arm around her back, but continued resolutely. "If our side wins, then it will have been worth any price, but Hermione will need your support if I die."
"Don't say that," she urged with a slight sob. "You promised."
"I promised I will try," he corrected softly.
*****
"It's obvious he cares for you," Cecelia commented quietly as they washed the teacups some time later. "He's much older than you, but it's quite obvious, really."
"I'm not so sure," Hermione admitted, sneaking a peak through the pass- through to the living room where Severus and Frank were discussing the different pain-killing concoctions they used. "He's a very hard person to know."
"Well, I'll give you the only piece of advice my mother gave me on my wedding day," her mother offered.
"What's that?"
"Learn to bite your tongue for ten seconds."
She blinked. "That's it?"
"Yes, dear. You'd be surprised how often you can make things so much worse when you say the first thing that comes to mind." Cecilia wiped her hands with a towel. "You're going to have a difficult time ahead, love. Severus seems to be a bit on the prickly side. If he's this old and never been married, he's going to take careful handling."
Hermione managed not to snort at this understatement and the thought of anyone 'handling' her new husband. "Mum, he's not even forty yet. Among wizards, that's not considered very old at all."
"And you're very young, as well. I know you think you're all grown up now, but you still have a lot ahead of you."
"Mum - how old were you when you told dad you'd marry him?"
"I was nineteen, as you well know, miss." Her mother said with a touch of sharpness, but her eyes abruptly filled with tears. "Only you're not my miss any longer, are you?"
Hermione impulsively hugged her mother and let her sniffle over her for a few moments before they went back to drying the dishes, wondering what it was about weddings and babies that made everyone such emotional basket cases.
Even Frank Granger cleared his throat repeatedly when his daughter gave him a parting hug, promising to write and tell her parents what their plans were after school. He gave Severus a manly handshake and made a few father- in-law pronouncements, such as take care of my girl. To his own surprise, Severus found himself promising to do just that without even a shred of the condescension he'd expected when anticipating this exact moment.
*****
Regardless of the overwhelming evidence of the all-encompassing services of the house-elf, Noggy herself remained elusive. After finding the bed made every morning when she left the bath, the dinner dishes done the moment her back was turned, Hermione determined to corner the helpful, elusive little elf.
Although Severus told her she was wasting her time, he did offer a piece of advice that was both brilliant and underhanded. Hermione refrained from complementing the Slytherin thinking but put it into action that very afternoon.
Searching the small kitchen, she did eventually find the ingredients to make up a pudding, though she wasn't sure how she'd cook it. In the process, she made a mess Peeves the poltergeist would have appreciated. Stirring the mess in the bowl with enthusiasm, she nearly missed the popping sound of the house-elf Apparating into the kitchen.
"Oh, Noggy. I'm so glad to see you. I've made a bit of a mess, I'm afraid, but I wanted to ask you to help me cook this."
The house-elf squeaked in dismay, but did as Hermione asked and within moments had the ancient copper-clad stove fired up. A flick of her little green finger set the dishes to washing themselves, but Hermione kept a firm hold on the batter-smeared bowl.
"I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of us during our honeymoon, Noggy."
"Missus Snape is very welcome," piped Noggy in a nervous voice, her large, bulbous eyes rolling as if to judge the likelihood of getting the bowl away from Hermione.
"I'll help clean this up," Hermione declared.
"Oh, no, Missus Snape. Noggy will be doing the washing up. It's Noggy's job to be doing the dishes and the cooking. Missus needs to be resting," insisted the elf.
"I'm pregnant, not ill," Hermione told her. "And I can clean my own mess. Don't you want my help?"
Noggy's long ears flapped as she shook her head violently. "House-elves are for cleaning, not witches, Missus Snape. House-elves are for looking after wizards and taking care of things."
Hermione put her hand on what was left of her hip, exasperated. "My name is Hermione," she told the elf. "And I promise you I'm not going to try and give you clothes. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Noggy isn't afraid of clothes," came the cautious reply.
"Then what are you afraid of?"
Noggy's shoulders drooped visibly. "Noggy is afraid of Missus Snape."
Tennis-ball eyes met hers, and Hermione frowned in confusion. "Of me? Why ever would you be afraid of me?"
"Powerful Earth Magic. Noggy can feel it in Missus Snape."
"I don't have Earth Magic, Noggy. I'm just a witch."
"The Earth Magic is in Missus Snape, just like her baby. Is powerful magic, Missus Snape. Earth Magic is what binds an elf to his master, just like Missus Snape binds the Professor to her."
"I what?" Hermione demanded. "How can you say that?" Noggy returned her horrified look, drawing back in fear as Hermione stared at her. The bowl in Hermione's hand fell from her nerveless fingers, and she flinched back as the elf pounced on the shards and began putting them back together.
*****
With his feet up on Dumbledore's desk, books gleaned from the shelves spread all around, Severus was perfectly relaxed until Hermione burst into the study.
"What is it?" he asked, sitting up abruptly at the look of dismay and panic on her face. His concern quickly evaporated, however, as Hermione relayed her conversation with the house-elf. His dismissal of her anxiety, however, only served to increase it.
Hermione crossed her arms, clamping her elbows down tightly to avoid any wild gestures. "I know you don't love me, Severus. Not," she paused, looking for the right words, trying and failing to control her emotions. "Not in the romantic sense of the word. I know you care for me. But even for that, I don't want it to be just because I've tricked you into it."
"Hermione," he protested.
"You said it yourself," she interrupted. "My skin, my hair," and she snatched a length of it and held it up as evidence, "as if anyone could ever be enchanted by my hair unless it really was magic."
"Calm down," Severus told her, taking a gentle hold of her arms. "The only magic you're working is that of a woman on a man. Muggle, witch, or Veela, it doesn't matter. I find you attractive. We're lovers. Married. Don't you want me ensnared by your charms?"
"NO," she said flatly. "I want you to want me for honest, tangible reasons, not something that disappears with a Finite Incantatum or a good night's sleep!"
With a sigh, he pulled his wand from his sleeve. "Finite Incantatum."
The wary look in her eyes was both amusing and heartbreaking as put away his wand and drew her into his arms, her body stiff and resistant. He buried his famous nose in her hair and inhaled deliberately. "You still smell wonderful," he told her. Sliding down to her neck, he sucked on the tender skin.
"Still taste incredible." His mouth wandered to hers, kissing her slowly, fully, exploring her lips until she began to forget why she was protesting. "Still kiss like summer strawberries."
Hermione chuckled unwillingly at this intentionally syrupy comparison, and he smiled as he leaned his brow against hers. "Use your sense, cârus. I may be led by my male instincts in this, but I'm not complaining, and I would be able to resist if I wished. But I don't wish. I chose this enthrallment, because I chose you."
It was his turn to chuckle as Hermione eyed him thoughtfully before she pushed against his chest, backing him into the bookcase and leaning in as close as her stomach would allow. With delicate precision she kissed his lips, chin and jaw, then slid her cheek along his until her face was buried in the black silk of his hair. Her mouth explored the tendon on the side of his neck, and inhaled his scent. Her breath came out in a long sigh as she rested her forehead against his shoulder.
"It must work both ways, because I chose you," she whispered.
"Time for bed," Severus announced.
Two hours later, Hermione stretched luxuriously and leaned over the edge of the bed to place her book on the floor. There was something deliciously decadent about studying in the nude, her body still warm from making love, though she doubted it was an observation she'd share with Harry and Ron. Stifling a yawn, she turned over to see her husband's eyes drooping, a sated smile still lingering on his face.
"Severus?"
"Hmm?" he answered sleepily.
"What do you think we'll do, after?"
"After what?"
"After we defeat Voldemort."
He laughed at her optimism, but it lacked any harshness. "I suppose I'll need to find a job, won't I?" he said dryly. "After all, I've a wife and child to support." Beneath the covers, he reached over and ran an affectionate hand over her stomach.
"Do you have any idea what you'd like to do?"
Severus rolled over on his side and looked at her, dark brows creasing. "Are you asking what I want to do when I grow up?"
"I suppose so," Hermione answered. "I wanted to get my Potions Mistress award at Aleford, but it all seems a bit distant right now, with the war and everything."
He pillowed his chin on his folded arm. "I've no idea. I'd had the thought of taking a brilliant apprentice and shagging her silly when I wasn't making her scour cauldrons." He gave a theatrical leer, and Hermione could not help smiling at this rather silly side to a man she'd once thought had no sense of humor.
What?" he asked.
"Every day we spend together, I learn something else about you. I'm wondering if I'll ever really know who you are." She'd meant it lightly, but his expression sobered.
"I wonder that myself," he remarked pensively. "I've spent so many years playing a role, I'm not sure who I am any longer. You've married a stranger, Hermione, except I'm a stranger to myself as well."
Hermione swallowed as she remembered Parvati's palm reading fortune. Trying to reassure both Severus and herself, she moved closer and slid a hand over his shoulder.
"You're Severus Snape. You're a Potions Master," she began, striving to keep her tone casual. "You've a wicked sense of humor, rigid sense of honor, a sharp tongue and a nasty temper."
He gave a snort, his good humor restored. "What else?" he challenged.
"Well, you're unemployed," she continued, putting a note of disapproval in her voice, as though he were a lay-about with no prospects.
"I am employed," he objected. "I'm just not getting paid for it."
"A better-than-average lover..."
"This from your vast experience, no doubt," he growled, pulling her towards him.
"My husband," she whispered as his dark eyes pinned her and his mouth drifted closer to hers.
"Damned straight," he assured her, and proceeded to prove the last two.
******
On their last evening, Severus lit the fire in Dumbledore's sitting room and settled back into the armchair with one final snifter of brandy pinched from the Headmaster's supply. Across the room, Hermione worked on the last of her school assignments, having for once in her life put off her homework until nearly the last minute. Lost in the reflections of the fire on the brass andirons and the rhythmic scratch of her quill, he sipped at the brandy and felt, for one moment in time, completely at peace.
Finished at last with the homework, Hermione packed away the last bits of parchment and capped her ink bottles, stowing it all away in her bag before padding over to Severus' side. He glanced up at her, a welcoming expression softening the lines on either side of his mouth.
"Finally finished, have you?" he asked. She nodded and stretched, her hands supporting the stressed muscles in small of her back, unconsciously showing off the curve of her pregnancy. Severus reached out and took one of her hands, pulling on it. Hermione obligingly draped herself onto his lap, though her bulk prohibited any gracefulness and making him grunt.
"Sorry," she told him, shifting to a mutually comfortable position as he pulled her in against his chest.
"For having bony elbows, or for leaving me to my own devices for most of the day?" he asked with mock severity.
"Both, I suppose. Though you seemed to have survived the last few hours without my attentions."
"Well," he began, "I did try to seduce you, earlier."
Hermione pulled back. "You did?"
"I did. It occurred to me that I'd likely be accused of seducing you, sooner or later, so I might as well be guilty for it." He frowned thoughtfully. "However, my skills at enticing young women appear to be lacking somewhat. You didn't even notice."
Hermione groaned and buried her face against his neck. "I tend to be a bit single-minded when I'm studying. A manticore could wander through the room and I wouldn't notice until it ate my quills."
A faint rumble of laughter echoed through his chest. "You'd slap it on the nose and tell it to go out in the garden."
"Did you want to go to bed then?"
"Not just now," Severus told her, resting his head against hers. "I'd rather stay here for a bit."
"Is something bothering you?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No, not at all. Merely considering the endless capriciousness of Fate."
She chuckled slightly. "You said that once before."
"Hmm. Perhaps I should say appreciating that capriciousness. Nothing else could possibly have foreseen me sitting here with Albus' good brandy and an armful of Hogwart's Head Girl."
He settled her more comfortably, and Hermione let her head droop to his shoulder, comfortable and warm, feeling appallingly domestic and not really caring.
*****
Some twenty hours later, Severus walked up the path to Hogwarts' entrance with Hermione's luggage in one hand and the young woman herself holding his other. The Express had come in more than an hour before, but the few students who still wandered the sloping lawn eyed the long-missing professor with some alarm, most completely overlooking the fact he was in the company of the Head Girl. A scowl sent them scurrying.
"They're just afraid you're back to teach," Hermione told him. No smile answered hers, and she gave up any attempt to lighten his mood as they made their way up the last few yards to the stone stairs.
"I want you to promise me you'll take care of your health, NEWTS or no NEWTS," he told her as he placed her bags on the steps leading up to the main door.
"I'll try to..." A sharp look from those black eyes, and Hermione smiled, just a little. "I promise. If you'll promise to be careful."
"As careful as I can be," he responded.
Hermione looked at him levelly. "I love you, Severus."
"Hermione," he began, pulling a face that did not quite reach the disdainful lip curl for which he was famous. He stopped, however, and took a short breath. "I have no idea how you can care for me, after all that has happened," he confessed. "But I should admit I'm selfish enough to be glad of it."
Her eyes were luminous, and he was fairly certain she'd cry once she reached the sanctuary of the Head Girl's room, but a smile grew on her lips as he finally accepted her words without further argument. Severus desperately wanted to kiss her, carry her to her rooms and make love to her until neither of them could move. Instead, he took her hand, fingertip toying with the stones on the wedding ring, and lifted it gently to his lips.
"It's silly, but I don't want to watch you walk away," she told him, sniffling slightly.
"Asinine," he agreed, feeling exactly the same.
"On three, then?" She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "One," she breathed. Then kissed him on the other cheek. "Two." Her mouth clung sweetly to his for a brief instant. "Three."
Hermione turned first, picking up her things and striding towards the open doorway. She did not look back. Severus forced himself to turn as well, striding down the lawn towards the gates of Hogwarts. At the last moment he glanced back over his shoulder, just in time to see Hermione look back over hers as she disappeared into the shadows. The wedding ring on her left hand sparkled in the last ray of sunshine as she gave a farewell wave.
(Author's Note # 1: Guess which Alan Rickman movie has the line "made so bold as to wish them joy."
#2: cârus is Latin for Precious, or Darling.)
"That sounds suspiciously like heresy, Professor," she replied cheekily. Intending to humor him, Hermione curled up on the bed with the worn quilt over her shoulders, fully expecting to get up within a half-hour and start on her homework. She woke two hours later, her eyes gritty but feeling marvelous.
Not comfortable with spreading her work on Dumbledore's desk, Hermione instead appropriated the formal table in the small dining room. Severus watched with some amusement as her books and papers gradually obscured the entire surface. Intending to allow her to work undisturbed, Severus browsed the Headmaster's shelves in his study and found a battered alchemy text. He settled into an armchair that coincidentally gave him a view through the wide doorway to the dining room and relaxed, flipping through the pages as he searched for the odd, interesting tidbits that complemented his own expertise. Once or twice he read them aloud to Hermione, who, rather than being bored, asked for more details before reapplying herself to her own books.
Observing Hermione as she methodically covered sheets of parchment in her round, efficient writing, Severus found himself spending more time contemplating his wife than looking through the book in his lap. Her hair was doing its best to escape the clip at the nape of her neck, springing free to frame her cheekbones with wavy streaks of dark honey. A frown of concentration came and went as she focused on the work before her, shifting books and muttering under her breath.
Bloody amazing, he thought, that such a remarkable young woman should be willing to marry a man such as himself. The few women he'd ever considered even attempting a permanent relationship with had been moderately intelligent, but he could not think of one who would have been even remotely interested in the morsels of obscure but fascinating information he'd found in the old textbook. Just as none of them would have had the strength to survive the assault Hermione had endured on Halloween, or the fortitude to save them both.
During the walk back to Dumbledore's cottage, Hermione and Severus had continued to discuss a wide range of topics, both profound and trivial. When he asked, she had related the details on their escape from Malfoy's hunting lodge. Severus himself had lost consciousness before Hermione freed herself that night, and possessed no memory of their escape from Malfoy's hunting. And although she attached no great importance to the fact that she'd saved his life along with hers, Severus certainly did. As a matter of fact, he was beginning to consider everything about Hermione as important.
*****
Later that evening, when Severus asked if she were ready for bed, Hermione was unaccountably overcome with shyness. Murmuring something vaguely affirmative, she preceded him to the bedroom and did her best to remain unflustered as he began to undress. Cleaning her teeth was a good excuse to disappear into the bathroom at that exact moment, and Hermione announced her intentions with her back turned to a partially nude Severus. She didn't come out until she heard the bedsprings creak.
When she came out of the bathroom, the room was dark other than the candles on either side of the bed and the faint red glow from the fireplace. Severus lay against the pillows, one arm behind his head. When he saw the long nightgown, his expression did not flicker in the slightest. He merely focused on the far wall and waited for her to get into bed.
He's disappointed, Hermione thought. And even though he was disappointed, she could also sense he had no intention of pushing the issue. The thought that he would consider her wishes before his own made Hermione feel curiously cherished.
Climbing under the covers, she rolled somewhat cumbersomely to her side and studied his profile. The golden light from the candles softened his harsh features, though it highlighted the diamond-shaped bump on his nose and his high cheekbones, and she wondered briefly what lines in his face would not have appeared if he hadn't taken the lonely, disastrous course he had.
"What?" he finally asked as her staring continued.
Hermione smiled, amused both by his irritation and by the fact that she was no longer intimidated by it.
"This is all rather new to me," she told him. "I'm in bed with a naked man." She'd caught a glimpse of his bare hip as she'd pulled the covers up. "Can't say that happened a lot."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "As your husband, I should approve. Can't have you romping about with naked men."
"Would you believe I've never even seen a naked man before? Let alone had full run of one?"
"Really?" he murmured, turning towards her, a subtle gleam appearing in his ebony eyes. Before she could ask what he meant by that, he leaned closer and brushed several light, teasing kisses across her lower lip.
Just as Hermione was deciding she rather enjoyed being kissed by this taciturn man and finding the passion hidden under his stalwart surface, he rolled away and lay on his back once more. With slow deliberation he pushed the blankets down his torso. A deft kick flipped them off the rest of him.
His entire body lay exposed, lean and nearly as pale as the white sheets on which he lay, with various scars marking his arms and chest. The remains of one cruel, ragged gash crossed over his hipbone. Crossing his ankles casually, he put one arm behind his head again and lay back, inviting her to explore.
Hermione swallowed the sudden dryness in her mouth and took a deep breath. Watching his face instead of the long male form stretched before her, she could just make out the slight tension in the skin around his eyes and the absolute stillness in which he lay, regardless of the relaxed posture. Remembering the wariness in his reaction the first time she'd reached out to touch him, Hermione came to the conclusion Severus was testing himself as well as her.
The difference between being pressured and being challenged was a subtle but highly important distinction, and one thing Hermione had always loved was a challenge. Methodical as ever, she began with his hands.
They were large and square, with close-trimmed nails and heavily calloused. Someone as tall and thin as Severus should have had spidery hands, but his were square and solid, belying the delicate control and sensitivity of his long fingers. She did not linger over the Dark Mark that lay like the gray shadow of an old burn on the inside of his left arm, but went on to stroke the thin skin inside his elbow and the texture of the veins. Her hands ran over his arms and shoulders, feeling the wiry muscles that had returned after his long convalescence.
Shifting closer to the head of the bed, Hermione traced his aquiline features. The dark fire in his eyes disappeared only in the moments when he blinked as her fingertips skimmed across his black eyebrows and the vertical slash between his brows. His lips parted as if he would say something, and though no sounds emerged, she could feel the tension in him changing from apprehension to anticipation.
Hermione extended her exploration to that part of him, kissing him lightly and repeatedly until his mouth opened under hers. As he granted her access, she deepened her attentions enough to discover a chip on one of his teeth. The heavy shadow of his beard growth was rough under her fingers, and even rougher against her lips as she kissed her way over his jaw and inspected his Adam's apple and the smooth skin over his collarbones.
Growing bolder, she toyed with the sparse hair across his chest like fine wisps of silk thread. He made a small noise as her palms skimmed over his flat nipples, and another as she tasted one and made it peak under her tongue. He was, she also found when he jumped slightly, ticklish over his ribs.
Severus' hands went to fists as she followed the black trace of hair down his abdomen to his navel. Hermione smiled at his groan as she passed over the obvious and moved on to press a gentle kiss to the jagged scar on his hipbone. The journey of discovery continued down his long, lean thighs, somewhat bony shins and sharp ankles. His feet were just as she remembered from the Handfasting ceremony, though she hadn't realized he had fine black hairs on the tops of his feet.
He was aching and upright when she at last maneuvered herself between his legs. The first position she tried proved awkward with her gravid belly in the way, so she wiggled until she could hover over him on her hands and knees. She inspected his arrousal, deliberately letting her hair drift over his thighs as she stroked his skin, intrigued by the reactions she induced. With gentle fingers she learned the heat and velvety textures, noticing as she did that Severus had closed his eyes, his unshaven chin pointing to the ceiling as he kept a firm hold on the edges of the mattress and his own self control.
Hermione wondered what it would take to make Severus lose that legendary composure, and decided to find out. One did not share quarters with Lavender Brown for six years without learning a thing or two, and she made a few plans even as she leaned forward.
A single gasp came out when her mouth descended on him but otherwise Severus remained silent, although his back arched, his heels dug into the mattress and the corded muscle on his arms stood out as she continued. Entranced by the power she wielded, a rush of arrousal and power washed over her as her husband writhed under her touch. Yet even in the heat of the moment she was delighted by his surrender, awed by the trust he showed by submitting to her ministrations.
One thing only remained, and breathlessly she urged him to give in to that as well.
"Let it go, Severus," she begged him. "Let me." Seconds later, under her redoubled efforts, his hands left their white-knuckled hold to tangle in her hair as he shuddered and came with a shout.
When Severus could think clearly again, he looked up at the smug look on his wife's face and laughed openly for the first time in their entire acquaintance. Pulling her down on his chest, he wrapped his long arms around her and kissed her thoroughly.
"Make one joke about being Head Girl," she warned him as she made herself comfortable within the circle of his arm and tucked her head under his chin.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "Just as I'm not going to ask where you learned that particular skill."
"Natural talent and second-hand research only," she told him archly. "My resources tell me you're supposed to swallow, but that's just disgusting."
"Hmm. If Miss Brown's reality is half her reputation, you've learned from the best."
Hermione gave his chest a half-hearted smack. "Lavender's reputation is exaggerated. She's only ever loved Seamus Finnegan."
"I'll take your word for it." He took a deep breath. "Thank you. That was wonderful."
"You're welcome," she murmured, sliding her arm across his torso. There was something alluring about the feel of his skin under her cheek and the short, crisp hairs under her palm. As her thumb passed over one nipple, her fingers grazing the slight definition of his pectoral muscle, his own hand flattened on top of hers and stilled her movement.
"Hermione?"
"Umm?"
"Are you familiar with the concept of libramentum?"
She sighed into his skin. "A potion that's been brought into balance, the acid or alkaline adjusted. Third year stuff."
"Hmm. What about quid pro quo?"
"This for that," she answered, eyes still closed, feeling warm and just a little sleepy.
"How about. sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander?"
The sleepiness disappeared instantly as Hermione's eyes flew open. Craning her neck up, she could make out the heat in Severus' eyes. His black hair hung in untidy clumps around his face, and it occurred to her that it was trying to curl. The preparation he used on it must be intended to keep the fine silk of his hair from going insane in the heat and humidity of his classroom.
You're the one who's absolutely insane, Hermione told herself. The man wants to do THAT to you, and you're thinking about his hair?
His expression changed, and when he opened his mouth she was sure it was to tell her it was all right that she didn't want him to reciprocate. With a lunge she reached his mouth before a sound came out.
Despite her passive pose as she lay back and allowed Severus to do as he willed, Hermione felt much more involved in this act of lovemaking than she had the night before. That had been an overwhelming rush of passion that had swept them both along to conclusion. By contrast, this was active partnership, relaxing under his touch, responding to his mouth and hands and half-whispered comments. She also felt a great deal of astonishment as she realized her own inability to stay silent under the sensual onslaught.
She barely recognized her own voice as she gasped and pleaded, crying out in ecstasy as he teased and learned her own secrets, ones she herself had never discovered. At last he relented and moved up from between her thighs, covering her body with his own as he filled her once more. The last vestige of her modesty disappeared in the face of burning need, her nails digging into his biceps, her sharp heels hooked around his calves as she pulled him into herself.
*****
Although a morning walk had quickly become a habit, Hermione and Severus skipped it a few days later and instead Apparated to London. The Leaky Cauldron's back entrance let them enter Diagon Alley and they casually walked through the morning shoppers much as they had two months earlier.
Nervously arm in arm with Severus, Hermione carefully kept her cloak around her body with the hood up in case anyone from Hogwarts should see them together. The last thing they needed was wild rumors about her pregnancy swirling around when term began again. Careful plans had already been laid for that revelation, and it would not do to have it prematurely revealed.
They made it to Gringotts without seeing anyone, however, and entered the goblin's domain without incident. The sullen goblin behind the counter presented Hermione with a ledger where she signed with the name Hermione Snape for the first time, using a purple ink that turned green on the page. The goblin then took her wand from her and weighed it on a small golden scale. The other side of the scale had only a crystal disk instead of the standard brass bowl, but it swiftly bobbed into equilibrium. Peering at the scale, the goblin scribbled down some notation and then handed back the wand with a rude 'good day' before turning away and dismissing them entirely.
Casually Severus offered to take Hermione down to his vault to check the balance on his account, but after a moment spent contemplating the stomach- wrenching ride involved, she decided against it. Instead she proposed they wait until school was finished to worry about money, to which Severus agreed with somewhat suspicious speed. He did ask her to accompany him to the small alchemist's shop where she'd fainted during their last trip. The sharp-eyed alchemist remembered them, asked after the experiments Severus had discussed during their first visit, and when their recent marriage was revealed, made so bold as to wish them joy.
As though he was afraid Hermione would faint on him again, Severus kept one hand under Hermione's elbow as he shepherded her back to the Leaky Cauldron. Even though it was still early, he led Hermione to a small table and announced his intention of getting her something to eat. Behind the bar, the toothless landlord Tom nodded at Severus' imperious motion for service as he pulled out a chair out for Hermione before taking a seat just opposite.
Beginning to chafe under his protective attitude, Hermione shrugged off her cloak and agreed to tea and a small snack. Severus seemed a bit distant, no doubt remembering the last time they'd been in the establishment, and Hermione felt a flicker of guilt for her behavior at that time. His severe demeanor was reinforced by the black frock coat and neck cloth he habitually wore, reminding her of his worst Potions Master disposition.
With some trepidation, Hermione leaned forward and addressed her husband of three days.
"May I ask you a question?"
"Hermione," he began with mild asperity, "in the nearly seven years I have known you, nothing short of being petrified by a basilisk has ever stopped you from asking a question. If we're to spend a significant portion of our lives in each other's company, it would save a great deal of time if you'd simply ask the question to begin with."
The mild irritation she'd felt earlier flared to full life. "Fine," Hermione told him, in a voice that said the gloves were off. "Why are you such a bastard to your students?"
The corner of his mouth twitched in appreciation for her directness. "Several reasons," he replied frankly. "Firstly, I detest teaching those who don't wish to learn. It's a waste of my time and abilities, although, if you'd have noticed, both Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are vastly over-qualified for their positions as well. Hogwarts is an excellent school, but you'll never find another with such a skilled and exceptional staff." He paused while a teapot and a selection of cakes and other assorted treats were presented. When they both had a cup of tea and a plate in front of them, he continued.
"Secondly, I had a reputation to uphold as a Death Eater on Dumbledore's leash. It allowed me to hold a position over the largest contingent of students whose parents were likely to be supporters of Voldemort. By favoring my Slytherins and being vile to the others, I presented not only an example of the worst sort of favoritism the rest of them could expect when they're introduced to adult life, but had the added benefit of giving the junior Death Eaters a nasty shock when they join the fold and realized they were actually expected to look after themselves."
"You enjoy it, don't you," Hermione accused, though her amusement was evident. "Playing the tyrant, scaring the wits out of your students."
"Perhaps," he hedged modestly. "Those few who had wits. And use the past tense, if you please. My most fervent dream is to never step foot in a classroom again. But for the third reason, let me ask you a question. Do you realize that Durmstang is the only other major wizarding school which employs a Potions Master?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Beauxbatons and The Salem Academy in the Americas, on average, have two students each school year who are severely injured in the Potions classroom. Salem is considering changing their curriculae to leave the more advanced potions until their students are older. In my classes, however," he continued with sadistic pride, "students who were scared to death of me seldom had the audacity to act up in my class, and they jolly well learnt what I taught them."
Hermione smirked at his self-assurance, remembering what she and Ron and Harry had gotten up to.
"If I remember correctly," he said, his baritone turning sharp, "it was a simple enlarging potion you sabotaged. Tell me, would you attempt such a thing now that you're older, into more elaborate and dangerous potions?"
"Gods, no. If the potion didn't kill us, you would."
"Better me than the potion. Anything I ever did to those brats involved detentions and copious lashings of sarcasm. But let the little monsters bollocks up some of the more dangerous potions, and lives could be lost."
He regarded her with a satisfied expression, then narrowed his eyes. "That's not the question you were going to ask, is it?"
"No, actually," Hermione admitted freely. "But since you're being so damned honest, I'm not letting you off the hook now. Tell me why you dislike Harry? Was it because of his father?"
"No," Severus replied with a sigh. "Although I despised his father, I don't dislike Harry Potter. I distrust him. There's a difference."
"Not trust him? Why ever not?"
"When I learned how the Dursleys had raised the boy, I don't think I've ever been more apprehensive in my life," Severus began slowly. "A boy going from a life of repression and unhappiness to a world where he would be petted and adored by all. James Potter was exceptionally powerful, and Lily was not to be underestimated," Severus continued brusquely. "The temptation for Harry to abuse both his power and his position was a very real consideration."
"Harry would never do that," Hermione protested. "He hates the publicity and the people who stare at his scar and everything that goes with it."
"Perhaps," Severus allowed. "But... it would not be the first time a student, overly indulged by teachers who thought him brilliant, came to a bad end because imagined himself superior to his peers."
With a start, Hermione understood Severus was speaking of himself. Impulsively she reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. "Harry's not like that," she told him, speaking both about her best friend and the man before her. "He's a good, honest, honorable person. The only thing Harry truly wants is a family. You can see it in his eyes, sometimes, especially when he's around the Weasleys. They all love him like a brother."
"With the possible exception of Virginia Weasley," he observed in a dry tone. "There's no doubt in what light she considers that young man.
"Now then," Severus told her, the humor restored to his expression. "Why don't you tell me what you were really going to ask."
"I was going to ask you if you'd noticed Tom was acting a bit strange. He's been staring at us from the bar and whispering to people ever since we came in. Probably talking about the flaming row we had last time."
"He's taking bets," Severus replied casually. "And it wasn't a row. I doubt it even qualified as a spat." His fingers tightened, reminding her they were still holding hands on top of the battered wooden table. "One thing I have always appreciated about you, Hermione, if not exactly admired, is that you give as good as you get. It's something we'll no doubt see more of, given our respective temperaments."
"He's betting on whether or not we're going to argue again, isn't he?" she asked, oddly heartened by the simultaneous compliment and insult.
"Most likely."
"Are we?" she asked, eyes sparkling at the temptation to make a deliberate scene.
"Actually, I was thinking of breaking the pot for him," Severus admitted. "Imagine how the odds would skew if I kissed you instead."
A warmth suffused Hermione's body. Despite the passion they shared in bed and the ring on her finger, Severus continued to treat her with a civil, polite manner during their daylight hours together, something she found rather frustrating at times. Not she'd been all that forward herself.
"I wouldn't mind that," Hermione told him. "Actually, I'd like it very much. I wasn't sure you cared for it, really."
Severus watched the hint of pink appear in her cheeks. "You're very much mistaken, Miss Granger. I do, indeed, care for it. Really." he emphasized the last word quite heavily.
Astonishment and anticipation vied with each other as Hermione took in the highly unusual sight of Severus Snape actually flirting with her. Ron and Harry would have died on the spot, but she dismissed her friends from her thoughts as a sensual smile grew on her lips. "I'm not Miss Granger any longer. Remember?"
"I tend to forget a great many things, lately," he returned smoothly. "Especially when I'm about to kiss you."
Hermione could feel the blush intensifying on her cheeks. ~Ten points for Slytherin, Professor,~ she thought, ~and could you possibly teach a class on this?~
"Are you finished?"
She nodded, and when he held out his hand, she took it and allowed him to assist her up out of the chair. He did not relinquish his grip, but pulled her closer. "Ready?" he whispered, devilish amusement lingering in his voice, his eyes carefully not falling on the huddle of wizards and witches shooting furtive glances their way. Hermione nodded again, and lifted her mouth slightly to meet his.
What she'd expected to be a casual buss quickly deepened, and her eyes drifted shut on the sensual tide of his mouth moving over hers. Warm and seeking, the kiss intensified until, when they came up for air at last, she was clinging to his coat, breathing unsteadily, and Severus himself looked slightly dazed.
"Home?" he questioned.
"Oh, I think so," Hermione agreed. Neither one bothered to see who received what pay out at the bar.
*****
Afterwards, Severus had the nerve to insist Hermione should remain in bed, since she needed all the rest she could get.
"Your NEWTS will be exactly seven weeks away when you return to school," he reminded her. "And I hold more hope of being awarded an Order of Merlin than I do of you taking proper care of yourself." His stern admonishment might have been taken more seriously if he'd been wearing more clothing, however.
Hermione propped herself up on the pillows and applied her appetite to the sliced fruit on the plate Severus had brought her. If Noggy thought anything odd about her charges taking their lunch to the bedroom, the elf in question did not put in an appearance to protest, and together they began to put a serious dent in the food nicked from the kitchen.
"I have a reputation to uphold," she reminded him, though he was correct in his assumption that the final stretch of school would be grueling for someone as studious as herself.
"Your reputation will be changing radically once word of this gets out," he told her, stroking her bare stomach reverently. The six-month fetus inside responded by kicking energetically, and he paused, a rare smile erupting as he detected the slight movement.
"I meant as Head Girl. I absolutely have to score better than Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson. Or else," she finished with a glower.
"You will, I'm sure. Especially Parkinson. Mr. Malfoy might actually have a chance to score well, but he'll need to study very hard indeed to get his marks anywhere near yours."
"Did you just complement me on my schoolwork?" Hermione queried, with a touch of disbelief.
"You'll never prove it," Severus warned her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry. Your marks have been for the most part the highest in Hogwarts history. You've even beaten some of mine."
"And all this time you've acted as though I were pond scum walking upright," she said with mock severity. "I hope you enjoy the taste of crow, because you're eating some right now."
Severus' face fell into uncompromising blankness. As it so often happened, Hermione knew she had somehow floundered into the unseen depths of the relationship between them, stepping blindly into some morass of hidden meaning behind her innocuous words.
"What is it?" she asked gently, having little hope he'd actually tell her. To her surprise, he put the remains of his meal down and pushed the plate to one side.
"You're Muggle born, Hermione, and yet you are without a doubt the most brilliant student I've ever taught. You are everything that disproves what Malfoy and his merry band of murderers profess. It terrifies me, sometimes."
"That I'm smart?" she asked, voice quavering.
"No, never that. Thinking about how much of a threat you are to them. Just your existence proves how wrong their beliefs are."
"That's.that's why he wanted to kill me, isn't it?" Hermione ventured. "That's why he did that to me."
"Malfoy always has more than one iron in the fire when he's up to something, but yes," Severus admitted heavily.
"Is that why you intervened?" she asked quietly. "Because you thought I was a symbol? Because I'm smarter than Pansy Parkinson? Or Hannah Abbot?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, Severus rolled onto his back and stared pensively at the ceiling. "Hermione... If it had been anyone else lying there, I'd have made some protest on the stupidity of pulling Dumbledore's beard, but I would not have made any further effort to stop it. I'd have stood by and watched them rape and destroy one of my students and when her body was found, I'd have signed my name to the staff condolence card without a second thought."
Hermione was nearly speechless. "I don't believe you. I'm no different from any other student at Hogwarts."
"Of course you are, you foolish girl," he snapped, and then rolled and pinned her with a dark stare. "You knew, Hermione. You lay there on that filthy floor and stared up at me and you could have betrayed me with a few words -- bargained for your life and destroy me utterly. But you didn't. You would have died without telling them."
"Maybe you should have let me die," she said recklessly.
Don't say that!" he hissed furiously, his hand shooting out to grasp her arm.
"How many people have died since you lost your place in the Death Eaters?" she pressed. "How many people could have been saved if you still were in Voldemort's confidence?"
"It doesn't matter, Hermione."
"It does matter. You stabbed Lucius Malfoy. You could have killed him."
"That was the intention," he said flatly, and she was reminded of how dangerous her husband could be, his deep voice all the more menacing here in the ravaged tableau of their bed. Instead of fear, though, her outrage stiffened her spine and her resolve to have this out with him.
"And then you would have let them kick you to death, because you thought you deserved nothing more. Well, I'm telling you that you do deserve more."
His silence irritated her, and she rolled her awkward body close enough to touch him. "I want to ask you something," she began, and when he raised a disbelieving eyebrow, snapped, "Oh, shut up. Were you in love with Lily Evans?" The jealous suitor had been a favorite theory Ron and Hermione had cooked up but never dared share with Harry.
To her surprise, Severus chuckled. "No," he answered. "It wouldn't have been difficult to fall in love with her, but I had more sense. I also no more patience with her clownish friends that I have for yours. Little patience for anyone, for that matter," he added.
"Have you ever loved anyone?" She turned to look at him. "I'm not asking that just to be bitchy. I honestly want to know. Have you ever allowed yourself to love anyone?"
His eyes turned dark with sorrow and regret, wary of her reaction. It was his turn to be surprised, however, as Hermione showed no signs of being hurt by his inability to profess an emotion he had no familiarity with.
"I understand that you don't love me, Severus," she told him patiently. His eyes flicked away from her face, but she didn't stop. "And while I never expected to get married and have a baby right away, it's what I've got. And I certainly never expected to find myself falling in love with you, but I meant it on our wedding night and I mean it now. I am falling in love with you."
"I think," he began carefully, "that you've allowed yourself to exaggerate whatever regard you might have for me. It would be far wiser for you to.not become attached to me."
Too bad," she retorted. "This isn't a mini-break shagfest."
Severus blinked in disbelief. "A what?"
"My cousin Lucy," Hermione explained with a sigh. "She goes through men like Professor Dumbledore goes through lemon drops, and she always breaks up with them right after a three-day mini-break. She calls them shagfests. But that's not us," she insisted.
"Hermione," he groaned in a low voice, but she placed her fingers over his lips to forestall whatever he was about to say, determined to finish what she'd been thinking for several days.
"There was a priest at my primary school," Hermione told him, "who once told me that forgiveness wasn't given because it was earned, or deserved, but because someone needed it."
Severus' eyelids lowered, shuttering out all subjects of forgiveness for sins past, but that wasn't Hermione's point. "I love you," she continued, "not because you deserve it, or you've earned it, because, really, we don't actually know each other all that well. But I love you, because you need it. I'm not asking you for anything, Severus, and you don't have to say anything. Just accept it."
For several long, anxious minutes, Severus Snape remained silent, though his eyes searched her face for heaven only knew what, his expression flickering through a kaleidoscope of emotions, each replaced by another before Hermione could tell what he was thinking. At long last the tension slowly bled from his body. With gentle formality he reached for Hermione's hand, capturing her fingers in his own and pressed a kiss into her palm.
*****
One morning, just as Hermione was beginning to lose track of the days of the week, Severus showed her a slip of parchment from Dumbledore. Noggy had delivered it early that morning and, miffed at being used as an owl, had burned every single piece of toast on the breakfast table.
"Your parents are expecting us this afternoon," he related in a lowering tone. "The Headmaster has it all arranged."
"It's Wednesday, isn't it," Hermione replied absently as she looked over the short note. "They usually work half-days on Wednesday and Saturday."
She appeared resigned, but became more and more unsettled as the day wore on. "Do we truly have to go visit them?" she groused some hours later, wearing nothing but her underwear whilst staring at the clothes hanging in the press. She was absolutely dreading this meeting, and Severus gave her a stern look.
"I have faced the Cruciatus Curse, Hermione. I somehow doubt a pair of dentists from Surrey can be any worse."
"They're going to scold me, and make me feel like a child."
"Parents always treat their offspring like children, regardless of how old they are. The last time I spoke to my mother, she insisted I wear my galoshes and a sweater so I wouldn't catch cold."
"How old were you?"
"It was eight months ago," he enunciated through clenched teeth.
"Can I meet your mother some day?" she asked innocently.
He gave her a long, considering look. "No. The both of you harping at me would be unbearable."
"You're no fun," she sighed, and pulled out the one Muggle maternity dress she'd bought on their foray into London. "I can't wear this," Hermione declared, holding the Muggle dress against herself. It was a pale yellow, and did nothing for her hair or coloring. She scowled at her reflection, daring the mirror to say a thing. It was, mercifully, a non-enchanted mirror and remained silent.
"They want to see you, not your wardrobe," Severus told her, sensing a hormone-fueled disagreement in his future. "You'll look fine," he promised.
"I look like Buddha," she retorted sharply, pulling the fabric against her stomach.
"Hermione," he stressed, putting the most patient tone he had into his voice. "You're lovely, no matter what you wear."
Hermione's eyes narrowed at him in the mirror. "Do they teach you to lie convincingly in Slytherin House, or is it an innate ability?"
He caught her in his arms and kissed her shoulder next to her bra strap. "You have no idea, do you?" he murmured.
"Of what?"
"How very enticing you are." She snorted, but didn't object when he moved his lips behind her ear and tasted the skin at her hairline. "All of you, Hermione. Your mind, your body, your hair..."
"My hair," she laughed in disbelief.
"Your skin...Gods above, Hermione. Your skin...I swear it's addictive." He was nipping the tender curve of her neck, lavishing open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder, his tongue tasting her and causing deep waves of longing to go through her.
"It's just pheromones, Severus," she breathed, having trouble remembering what she was saying as his hands tugged the dress from her grip and his long fingers splayed across her round stomach, pulling her back against his hips. "My body's a tanker factory of chemicals." Scowling at her round potbelly, Hermione pulled the waistband of the enormous, horrid panties up another inch. "Literally."
A non-committal grunt was her only answer, though his hands pulled the waistband out of her grip and pushed it down onto her hips and then lower.
"We'll be late," she gasped, even as his fingers slid between her thighs.
"That's what magic is for," he assured her, just before he picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he shoved his own clothing out of the way and laid her down.
*****
With a 'pop' two figures appeared on the front stoop of Frank and Cecilia's townhouse.
"We're only two minutes late," Hermione announced, her cheeks still delightfully flushed and contrasting well with the colorful silk scarf Severus had conjured and tied around her neck at the last minute. It covered almost all of the purple marks he'd inflicted.
Snape unwrapped Hermione from his embrace and checked up and down the street to be sure they had not been seen appearing out of thin air. The early afternoon sunlight glinted off the autos parked on the street, and he stifled his reaction to the ugly conveyances. It would not do to meet his in-laws with a sneer, however, and he carefully schooled his features to a milder expression. Hermione caught his face, though, and gave him a thoughtful look.
"You know, one good dose of Severus Snape the Potions Professor should send them running. Then we could leave right away."
"I'll behave myself, if you will," he retorted with a raised eyebrow, then took her hand and resolutely rang the bell.
The Grangers must have been waiting for them, for the door was swiftly opened, and a pleasant faced, middle-aged woman greeted Hermione with a swift hug, restraining herself when she felt the curve of the baby.
"Come in, come in," urged Mrs. Granger quickly, and they were ushered into the home that had seen Hermione grow from a child to an adult. Introductions were made, and Severus quickly sized up his father-in-law; a tall man, once fit but going slightly paunchy in his forties. His handshake was firm, and Snape had to give the man points for shaking hands instead of immediately attacking the libertine who had debauched his little girl.
"Why don't we sit down?" suggested Hermione's mother nervously.
"Right," said Frank Granger firmly. "Then I think I'd like an explanation, if you please."
"Dad," Hermione began, only to stop when Severus put his hand under her elbow. He pushed her gently to precede him and took a seat beside her on the comfortable sofa.
"I take it Hermione has not informed you of the entire circumstances that have led to our marriage." It wasn't a question, but Hermione's mother treated it as such.
"No, she hasn't. I must say I'm not at all pleased with the running of that school if a student has become involved with a teacher, and worse."
"Hermione and I did not become involved, as you put it," Severus told her, keeping the edge from his voice with effort. "On the night of Halloween last, your daughter was abducted by Death Eaters. They intended to rape and murder her that night.
"Forgive my bluntness," he continued, overriding their gasps of outrage and dismay, "but you need to understand Hermione is blameless in this matter. Her only fault is a surfeit of compassion."
"Death Eaters?" questioned Cecilia Granger. "Those are the brutes who follow that chap Voldemort, aren't they?"
"They are," Severus told her. "How did you know of them?"
Frank Granger gave Hermione an apologetic look. "Well, we've had the Weasleys over for dinner a time or two."
"You've what?" Hermione was astonished. "And you never told me?"
"Well," said her mother, "you and Ron were dating at the time, dear. They're quite nice, although Arthur comes over a bit odd every time I plug something in."
"We were all of us rather hoping you and Ron would work out. No offense, Professor," Frank Granger added to his son-in-law, sounding not in the least apologetic.
"I understand. I, too, once thought I'd see Hermione take the name of Weasley. Though I'll admit I was less than thrilled at the idea."
"Don't tell me you fancied our girl even then," asked Cecilia, alarmed.
"No. But Ron Weasley wouldn't have made her a good match. He's a decent lad, but he doesn't understand a mind like Hermione's."
"This wizard -- Voldemort. Arthur Weasley told us about him. What did he want Hermione for?" demanded her father. "Or a teacher, for that matter."
In a bald, uncompromising narrative, Severus outlined the events of Halloween and the following weeks. Hermione elaborated where he glossed over his own injuries, and the cause. Between the two of them, they managed to relay the convoluted path to their present circumstances.
"So. Severus," began Frank, as they sat in the living room holding cups of various contents. Over the past hour, they'd progressed to a first-name basis. Frank had offered scotch, and Severus had accepted with previously unsuspected grace; Hermione and her mother drank tea. "You and Hermione... are married, then."
"Yes. We were handfasted last week."
"Handfasting has the same legalities as marriage, Mum. It's just a wizarding ceremony rather than a church. Sort of like going to a magistrate."
"I see," temporized her mother, sipping her tea. "You'll have to understand, we're very shocked at the suddenness of this, Severus. We always expected Hermione to finish school and go on to university..."
"And she will," countered Severus. "Hermione is one of the brightest minds it has ever been my privilege to instruct. I will do all that is in my power to be sure she continues her education."
"But how can you expect to support her?" injected her mother. "Hermione tells me you're no longer a professor at Hogwarts. How can you provide for her?"
Snape let out a soft laugh, which surprised Hermione as well as her parents. "Supporting Hermione is not a problem. I had thought to rent a cottage in Hogsmeade after Hermione finishes school, where we can live until the baby is born and Hermione decides where she will attend and what she will study. Once we've settled that, we'll make arrangements to live near the school of her choice. I was rather hoping she'd consider l'Universite d' Arcanum in Rome, but she'll have to brush up on her Italian. A pipedream, I know, but my family has a lovely villa just on the outskirts of Naples."
Leaning back on the sofa, he saw Hermione's suspicious frown and raised a single eyebrow at her. In truth, she had wondered how they would live, but other arrangements for their hasty wedding had intruded and she hadn't wanted to interrupt their honeymoon with harsh realities. Now she regarded him with a puzzled expression, and Severus began to enjoy himself immensely. It was rather nice, knowing that he had married a woman ignorant of his true means after so many years avoiding the gold diggers that flocked to him on the rare occasion he'd bothered to show in social settings.
"A villa? In Naples?" echoed Hermione, and he gave her a bland look.
"Just outside, actually, though my mother lives there currently, so I think that won't suit." He frowned thoughtfully, as though choosing between two biscuits in a tin. "We also have a great hulking pile of an estate in Kent, but I haven't been there in years. I think, on the whole, it would probably be best if we simply rented a house. I'll have my mother send over a house elf or two to change the nappies and such while you're in class."
Hermione's parents exchanged a look, having been instructed on the servitude of house-elves and the social status of those who owned them, while Hermione herself simply goggled at her husband. The casual mention of estates and villas was further proof that the man in their living room was no itinerant schoolteacher.
"You're telling me..." Hermione sputtered, much to Severus' amusement, "do you mean to sit there and tell me that you're rich? Not just a little saved up over the years, but flat out rich?"
"Ten points to Gryffindor, Hermione. Though you could have known that at any time if you'd looked me up in the social registry." He laughed as she reached out to box his ears, but he quickly dragged her to his side, wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. She settled, still disgruntled, and Snape looked over at his parents-in-law, who had not missed this byplay.
"I assure you, Frank, and you, Cecelia. I am quite prepared, financially, to take care of Hermione and our child. Even without my family fortune, I am still a Potions Master. As such, I can approach any wizarding firm in any country and offer my services for whatever sum I chose."
"I thought a Potions Master was a bit like being a chemist," ventured Cecilia Granger, and her daughter felt the man in question stiffen.
"Mum, a chemist is what we call an apothecary," Hermione corrected quickly. "A Potions Master is more like someone with a doctorate in Biology, Chemistry and several others."
"However, there is still one other matter we must discuss." He twined his fingers with Hermione's, and she swallowed suddenly at the seriousness with which he regarded her.
"The wizarding world is currently in a state of war. Voldemort is gathering his strength to overtake all that Hermione and I value, and we will soon find ourselves fighting for our lives."
"Not Hermione!" protested Cecelia, and Snape frowned.
"No. Not Hermione. Though if she were not with child, I doubt any of us could keep her from Harry Potter's side. But the battle is coming, and all of us are going to be fighting, very soon. Including myself.
"I am officially a teacher, or was. But for many years I was also a mole. A spy, to put it bluntly, and I will soon be resuming that endeavor. I can promise you that I will take care of Hermione to the best of my ability. But my work is dangerous, and it is possible that I may not survive to see my child born."
Hermione could not protest aloud, but closed her eyes against the tears and leaned her forehead against Severus' shoulder. He put his arm around her back, but continued resolutely. "If our side wins, then it will have been worth any price, but Hermione will need your support if I die."
"Don't say that," she urged with a slight sob. "You promised."
"I promised I will try," he corrected softly.
*****
"It's obvious he cares for you," Cecelia commented quietly as they washed the teacups some time later. "He's much older than you, but it's quite obvious, really."
"I'm not so sure," Hermione admitted, sneaking a peak through the pass- through to the living room where Severus and Frank were discussing the different pain-killing concoctions they used. "He's a very hard person to know."
"Well, I'll give you the only piece of advice my mother gave me on my wedding day," her mother offered.
"What's that?"
"Learn to bite your tongue for ten seconds."
She blinked. "That's it?"
"Yes, dear. You'd be surprised how often you can make things so much worse when you say the first thing that comes to mind." Cecilia wiped her hands with a towel. "You're going to have a difficult time ahead, love. Severus seems to be a bit on the prickly side. If he's this old and never been married, he's going to take careful handling."
Hermione managed not to snort at this understatement and the thought of anyone 'handling' her new husband. "Mum, he's not even forty yet. Among wizards, that's not considered very old at all."
"And you're very young, as well. I know you think you're all grown up now, but you still have a lot ahead of you."
"Mum - how old were you when you told dad you'd marry him?"
"I was nineteen, as you well know, miss." Her mother said with a touch of sharpness, but her eyes abruptly filled with tears. "Only you're not my miss any longer, are you?"
Hermione impulsively hugged her mother and let her sniffle over her for a few moments before they went back to drying the dishes, wondering what it was about weddings and babies that made everyone such emotional basket cases.
Even Frank Granger cleared his throat repeatedly when his daughter gave him a parting hug, promising to write and tell her parents what their plans were after school. He gave Severus a manly handshake and made a few father- in-law pronouncements, such as take care of my girl. To his own surprise, Severus found himself promising to do just that without even a shred of the condescension he'd expected when anticipating this exact moment.
*****
Regardless of the overwhelming evidence of the all-encompassing services of the house-elf, Noggy herself remained elusive. After finding the bed made every morning when she left the bath, the dinner dishes done the moment her back was turned, Hermione determined to corner the helpful, elusive little elf.
Although Severus told her she was wasting her time, he did offer a piece of advice that was both brilliant and underhanded. Hermione refrained from complementing the Slytherin thinking but put it into action that very afternoon.
Searching the small kitchen, she did eventually find the ingredients to make up a pudding, though she wasn't sure how she'd cook it. In the process, she made a mess Peeves the poltergeist would have appreciated. Stirring the mess in the bowl with enthusiasm, she nearly missed the popping sound of the house-elf Apparating into the kitchen.
"Oh, Noggy. I'm so glad to see you. I've made a bit of a mess, I'm afraid, but I wanted to ask you to help me cook this."
The house-elf squeaked in dismay, but did as Hermione asked and within moments had the ancient copper-clad stove fired up. A flick of her little green finger set the dishes to washing themselves, but Hermione kept a firm hold on the batter-smeared bowl.
"I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of us during our honeymoon, Noggy."
"Missus Snape is very welcome," piped Noggy in a nervous voice, her large, bulbous eyes rolling as if to judge the likelihood of getting the bowl away from Hermione.
"I'll help clean this up," Hermione declared.
"Oh, no, Missus Snape. Noggy will be doing the washing up. It's Noggy's job to be doing the dishes and the cooking. Missus needs to be resting," insisted the elf.
"I'm pregnant, not ill," Hermione told her. "And I can clean my own mess. Don't you want my help?"
Noggy's long ears flapped as she shook her head violently. "House-elves are for cleaning, not witches, Missus Snape. House-elves are for looking after wizards and taking care of things."
Hermione put her hand on what was left of her hip, exasperated. "My name is Hermione," she told the elf. "And I promise you I'm not going to try and give you clothes. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Noggy isn't afraid of clothes," came the cautious reply.
"Then what are you afraid of?"
Noggy's shoulders drooped visibly. "Noggy is afraid of Missus Snape."
Tennis-ball eyes met hers, and Hermione frowned in confusion. "Of me? Why ever would you be afraid of me?"
"Powerful Earth Magic. Noggy can feel it in Missus Snape."
"I don't have Earth Magic, Noggy. I'm just a witch."
"The Earth Magic is in Missus Snape, just like her baby. Is powerful magic, Missus Snape. Earth Magic is what binds an elf to his master, just like Missus Snape binds the Professor to her."
"I what?" Hermione demanded. "How can you say that?" Noggy returned her horrified look, drawing back in fear as Hermione stared at her. The bowl in Hermione's hand fell from her nerveless fingers, and she flinched back as the elf pounced on the shards and began putting them back together.
*****
With his feet up on Dumbledore's desk, books gleaned from the shelves spread all around, Severus was perfectly relaxed until Hermione burst into the study.
"What is it?" he asked, sitting up abruptly at the look of dismay and panic on her face. His concern quickly evaporated, however, as Hermione relayed her conversation with the house-elf. His dismissal of her anxiety, however, only served to increase it.
Hermione crossed her arms, clamping her elbows down tightly to avoid any wild gestures. "I know you don't love me, Severus. Not," she paused, looking for the right words, trying and failing to control her emotions. "Not in the romantic sense of the word. I know you care for me. But even for that, I don't want it to be just because I've tricked you into it."
"Hermione," he protested.
"You said it yourself," she interrupted. "My skin, my hair," and she snatched a length of it and held it up as evidence, "as if anyone could ever be enchanted by my hair unless it really was magic."
"Calm down," Severus told her, taking a gentle hold of her arms. "The only magic you're working is that of a woman on a man. Muggle, witch, or Veela, it doesn't matter. I find you attractive. We're lovers. Married. Don't you want me ensnared by your charms?"
"NO," she said flatly. "I want you to want me for honest, tangible reasons, not something that disappears with a Finite Incantatum or a good night's sleep!"
With a sigh, he pulled his wand from his sleeve. "Finite Incantatum."
The wary look in her eyes was both amusing and heartbreaking as put away his wand and drew her into his arms, her body stiff and resistant. He buried his famous nose in her hair and inhaled deliberately. "You still smell wonderful," he told her. Sliding down to her neck, he sucked on the tender skin.
"Still taste incredible." His mouth wandered to hers, kissing her slowly, fully, exploring her lips until she began to forget why she was protesting. "Still kiss like summer strawberries."
Hermione chuckled unwillingly at this intentionally syrupy comparison, and he smiled as he leaned his brow against hers. "Use your sense, cârus. I may be led by my male instincts in this, but I'm not complaining, and I would be able to resist if I wished. But I don't wish. I chose this enthrallment, because I chose you."
It was his turn to chuckle as Hermione eyed him thoughtfully before she pushed against his chest, backing him into the bookcase and leaning in as close as her stomach would allow. With delicate precision she kissed his lips, chin and jaw, then slid her cheek along his until her face was buried in the black silk of his hair. Her mouth explored the tendon on the side of his neck, and inhaled his scent. Her breath came out in a long sigh as she rested her forehead against his shoulder.
"It must work both ways, because I chose you," she whispered.
"Time for bed," Severus announced.
Two hours later, Hermione stretched luxuriously and leaned over the edge of the bed to place her book on the floor. There was something deliciously decadent about studying in the nude, her body still warm from making love, though she doubted it was an observation she'd share with Harry and Ron. Stifling a yawn, she turned over to see her husband's eyes drooping, a sated smile still lingering on his face.
"Severus?"
"Hmm?" he answered sleepily.
"What do you think we'll do, after?"
"After what?"
"After we defeat Voldemort."
He laughed at her optimism, but it lacked any harshness. "I suppose I'll need to find a job, won't I?" he said dryly. "After all, I've a wife and child to support." Beneath the covers, he reached over and ran an affectionate hand over her stomach.
"Do you have any idea what you'd like to do?"
Severus rolled over on his side and looked at her, dark brows creasing. "Are you asking what I want to do when I grow up?"
"I suppose so," Hermione answered. "I wanted to get my Potions Mistress award at Aleford, but it all seems a bit distant right now, with the war and everything."
He pillowed his chin on his folded arm. "I've no idea. I'd had the thought of taking a brilliant apprentice and shagging her silly when I wasn't making her scour cauldrons." He gave a theatrical leer, and Hermione could not help smiling at this rather silly side to a man she'd once thought had no sense of humor.
What?" he asked.
"Every day we spend together, I learn something else about you. I'm wondering if I'll ever really know who you are." She'd meant it lightly, but his expression sobered.
"I wonder that myself," he remarked pensively. "I've spent so many years playing a role, I'm not sure who I am any longer. You've married a stranger, Hermione, except I'm a stranger to myself as well."
Hermione swallowed as she remembered Parvati's palm reading fortune. Trying to reassure both Severus and herself, she moved closer and slid a hand over his shoulder.
"You're Severus Snape. You're a Potions Master," she began, striving to keep her tone casual. "You've a wicked sense of humor, rigid sense of honor, a sharp tongue and a nasty temper."
He gave a snort, his good humor restored. "What else?" he challenged.
"Well, you're unemployed," she continued, putting a note of disapproval in her voice, as though he were a lay-about with no prospects.
"I am employed," he objected. "I'm just not getting paid for it."
"A better-than-average lover..."
"This from your vast experience, no doubt," he growled, pulling her towards him.
"My husband," she whispered as his dark eyes pinned her and his mouth drifted closer to hers.
"Damned straight," he assured her, and proceeded to prove the last two.
******
On their last evening, Severus lit the fire in Dumbledore's sitting room and settled back into the armchair with one final snifter of brandy pinched from the Headmaster's supply. Across the room, Hermione worked on the last of her school assignments, having for once in her life put off her homework until nearly the last minute. Lost in the reflections of the fire on the brass andirons and the rhythmic scratch of her quill, he sipped at the brandy and felt, for one moment in time, completely at peace.
Finished at last with the homework, Hermione packed away the last bits of parchment and capped her ink bottles, stowing it all away in her bag before padding over to Severus' side. He glanced up at her, a welcoming expression softening the lines on either side of his mouth.
"Finally finished, have you?" he asked. She nodded and stretched, her hands supporting the stressed muscles in small of her back, unconsciously showing off the curve of her pregnancy. Severus reached out and took one of her hands, pulling on it. Hermione obligingly draped herself onto his lap, though her bulk prohibited any gracefulness and making him grunt.
"Sorry," she told him, shifting to a mutually comfortable position as he pulled her in against his chest.
"For having bony elbows, or for leaving me to my own devices for most of the day?" he asked with mock severity.
"Both, I suppose. Though you seemed to have survived the last few hours without my attentions."
"Well," he began, "I did try to seduce you, earlier."
Hermione pulled back. "You did?"
"I did. It occurred to me that I'd likely be accused of seducing you, sooner or later, so I might as well be guilty for it." He frowned thoughtfully. "However, my skills at enticing young women appear to be lacking somewhat. You didn't even notice."
Hermione groaned and buried her face against his neck. "I tend to be a bit single-minded when I'm studying. A manticore could wander through the room and I wouldn't notice until it ate my quills."
A faint rumble of laughter echoed through his chest. "You'd slap it on the nose and tell it to go out in the garden."
"Did you want to go to bed then?"
"Not just now," Severus told her, resting his head against hers. "I'd rather stay here for a bit."
"Is something bothering you?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No, not at all. Merely considering the endless capriciousness of Fate."
She chuckled slightly. "You said that once before."
"Hmm. Perhaps I should say appreciating that capriciousness. Nothing else could possibly have foreseen me sitting here with Albus' good brandy and an armful of Hogwart's Head Girl."
He settled her more comfortably, and Hermione let her head droop to his shoulder, comfortable and warm, feeling appallingly domestic and not really caring.
*****
Some twenty hours later, Severus walked up the path to Hogwarts' entrance with Hermione's luggage in one hand and the young woman herself holding his other. The Express had come in more than an hour before, but the few students who still wandered the sloping lawn eyed the long-missing professor with some alarm, most completely overlooking the fact he was in the company of the Head Girl. A scowl sent them scurrying.
"They're just afraid you're back to teach," Hermione told him. No smile answered hers, and she gave up any attempt to lighten his mood as they made their way up the last few yards to the stone stairs.
"I want you to promise me you'll take care of your health, NEWTS or no NEWTS," he told her as he placed her bags on the steps leading up to the main door.
"I'll try to..." A sharp look from those black eyes, and Hermione smiled, just a little. "I promise. If you'll promise to be careful."
"As careful as I can be," he responded.
Hermione looked at him levelly. "I love you, Severus."
"Hermione," he began, pulling a face that did not quite reach the disdainful lip curl for which he was famous. He stopped, however, and took a short breath. "I have no idea how you can care for me, after all that has happened," he confessed. "But I should admit I'm selfish enough to be glad of it."
Her eyes were luminous, and he was fairly certain she'd cry once she reached the sanctuary of the Head Girl's room, but a smile grew on her lips as he finally accepted her words without further argument. Severus desperately wanted to kiss her, carry her to her rooms and make love to her until neither of them could move. Instead, he took her hand, fingertip toying with the stones on the wedding ring, and lifted it gently to his lips.
"It's silly, but I don't want to watch you walk away," she told him, sniffling slightly.
"Asinine," he agreed, feeling exactly the same.
"On three, then?" She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "One," she breathed. Then kissed him on the other cheek. "Two." Her mouth clung sweetly to his for a brief instant. "Three."
Hermione turned first, picking up her things and striding towards the open doorway. She did not look back. Severus forced himself to turn as well, striding down the lawn towards the gates of Hogwarts. At the last moment he glanced back over his shoulder, just in time to see Hermione look back over hers as she disappeared into the shadows. The wedding ring on her left hand sparkled in the last ray of sunshine as she gave a farewell wave.
(Author's Note # 1: Guess which Alan Rickman movie has the line "made so bold as to wish them joy."
#2: cârus is Latin for Precious, or Darling.)