Hermione couldn't keep her mind on the task at hand, thinking back to last night when she shared a bed for the first time with her husband, even if it was only platonic, she was glad that their relationship was moving forward in the right direction and she thought perhaps, one day, in the not too distant future he might start to show her an ounce of affection.

Shaking her head, she brought herself back to reality just in time to find herself dropping in four dragon scales into her potion instead of one. "No," she whispered harshly to herself, unable to stop them as they seemed to fall towards the cauldron, almost as if she were watching them descend in slow motion.

The potion turned a ghastly shade of brown and emitted a strong sulfuric odour before smoking violently. Looking up from his desk, he sighed heavily. Of all the students to get this wrong, he hoped it wouldn't be her. He didn't want to interact with her in his class any more than needed.

"Miss Granger," he spat a little harsher than he had intended for it to come out as he strode with purpose towards her, wand in hand, he vanished the vulgar-smelling potion and the now ruined cauldron. Technically, yes, she was married to him, but they opted to leave her last name as was to save any more torment from fellow students.

Looking down at the girl he saw hurt swirling in the depths of her eyes and felt a slight pang of guilt tug at his blackened heart. He would be lying if he said he wasn't becoming somewhat accustomed to the girl hanging around and perhaps he even slightly liked her. "Detention after dinner, Miss Granger," he sneered harshly at her, walking back to his desk and sitting down.

Detention, she thought bitterly to herself, physically biting her tongue to ensure she didn't let a snide remark slip from her lips in front of everyone.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"What were you doing in class today?" He asked with such a softness it was eerie. She sat upright on the stool in the classroom and watched him pace backward and forwards.

"It was a genuine mistake," she whispered back.

"For an amateur, maybe, but not for you. You could have made that potion in your sleep, and you nearly blew yourself up instead." He threw his hands high in utter frustration before stopping and turning to face her.

"Well, I am sorry if I can't live up to your expectations, Severus. I've been through a lot these past few weeks and you expect me to carry on with life as if nothing has changed?" She stood with such a roughness the stool shot a foot behind her before a leg caught on a stone and it toppled with a bang.

Anger coursed through her veins. She used every bit of restraint she had within her to not lash out verbally at giving him a tearing down. The two stood in silence, chests heaving with each breath they took, gazes never wavered, both as steely as the other. Hermione never shied from him, nor was she scared, as others were of the hardened man before her. Where others felt fear, she merely felt a dread that she had to be around him any longer than need be.

Jutting her chin out in defiance, she side-eyed the man for a fleeting moment before standing a little straighter, trying to make herself appear that this was not bothering her at all.

He could almost hear the heavy beating of her heart as it screamed for her to back down, but she never did. Unsure what game she was playing the corner of his lips twitched gently, almost into a smile before faltering and the once stoic expression was back.

Time almost ticked by glacially. It felt as if he were being lured towards her and nothing he could do was stop his feet from moving in her direction. Like two magnets drawn together, he was an inch from her. Lips twitched with need, and he leaned down and captured her lips with his own in a moment of passion.

Hands ran across her cloth-clad back with fiery need, pulling her so tightly against him he wanted to feel every inch of his wife against his body. It had been many a year since he had taken a woman sexually, and the desire to hold his wife tightly while he sunk himself into her tight hole was almost too much to bear.

A small mewl tore from within her as their lips continued their battle for supremacy. Her hands snaking around his torso she pulled herself even closer to his body, needing to feel him against her. She pulled from his lips, breathless, "Severus," words spoken in a broken whisper, unsure how to process the emotions that were currently coursing through her body and the dizzying thoughts clouding her judgement.

"Do you wish for me to stop?" He asked sincerely, blinking once, twice, thrice, waiting for her to answer.

"N…No," her voice cracked as she spoke. "Please, keep going."

He needn't be told twice. Lips crashing hastily against her own again, he walked forward, pushing her backwards slowly guiding her to his desk at the front of the room.

She felt her arse bump into the hardwood of the desk and braced herself, so she didn't fall, grasping his hips as she did so.

He broke the kiss quickly and looked down at her with sincerity in his eyes. "Have you ever had relations with a man before?" He asked genuinely, moving his hands to the back of her bare thighs and under her skirt.

She paused for a moment as his warm hands moved over her milky thighs, eyes closing for a fleeting moment as she relished in the touch of her husband. "No," she admitted. "But don't let that put you off."

"Put me off?" His lips brushed the shell of her ear as she spoke. "I can guarantee that doesn't put me off at all. I just want to ensure you want to go ahead with this, Hermione."

The truth was, he was in two minds about the situation he had now put himself in. On one hand, he wanted to sleep with the woman that was now his wife. On the other hand, there was something gnawing at his psyche about sleeping with Hermione Granger. Right now, he was having a hard time seeing her for the woman that was his wife and not the student she was currently dressed as, and it was tearing every moral fibre of his being apart.

She sensed the energy he had moments before falter and start to fade, and her heart sunk through her stomach. What was wrong with her? Why didn't he want to touch her any longer? Was he repulsed by her kiss? Turned off by her jiggly thighs hidden beneath her skirt?

He pulled his hands from her skin as if her flesh was molten lava and stepped backwards, creating a decent gap between them.

"What is wrong with me?" Her voice was the gentlest whisper he had ever heard with the most profound sadness tangled within it.

"Nothing. It's not you, it's me. You deserve better than to be bent over the desk of the potions classroom and fucked like a cheap whore for your first time," he admitted, confusing even himself. Not too long ago he wouldn't have cared, but the little bitch was worming her way into his blackened heart, and he didn't like it one iota.

Smoothing her hands over her skirt, she stepped away abruptly from the man and went back to her seat, absolutely seething at what had just unfolded. Sitting heavily upon the wooden stool to show her displeasure, she snatched her quill up between her fingers and scrawled with a roughness he knew all too well. The one where you were angry and were taking it out with every stroke of quill on parchment in a hope that the anger simmered down and subsided.

"Can you mark these for me?" He asked with a curious upward inflection, walking over and dropping a pile of parchments on her desk, looking down expectantly at her. He needed something to break the tightly wound spring that was the tension in the air before it exploded.

She dropped the quill harshly before looking up glacially at the man towering over her. The disdain in her eyes her tongue twitched with the desire to unleash what she really wanted to tell him. Something about shoving those parchments where the sun didn't shine would suffice, she thought bitterly to herself.

"Why don't you go take a long walk off the edge of the astronomy tower," she spat, holding his gaze steadfastly.

He shrugged, "I mean I can if you want me to, but it won't achieve my demise, which is what you probably want. I can't die Hermione. You know that."

Rolling her eyes so hard back, she was certain she saw the inside of her own skull. "I thought we were over these ridiculous, fabricated stories, Severus."

"Do it. Cast the killing curse, I dare you," he countered, raising a single brow.

"I'm not using the killing curse on you!" She exclaimed, her voice raising several octaves as she talked. "Could you imagine the uproar as I am dragged to Azkaban? The teenage bride of the Potions Master was so overcome with grief that they paired her with him which drove her to kill him right in the belly of Hogwarts."

"Exactly. They could hardly blame you for doing it," he offered.

"I'm not having your death, as much as I wish I could do it some days, on my good conscience, Severus. You will have to get someone else to entertain that idea and believe me, I am sure there are plenty out there that would love the honour of sending you into the depths of hell. Mark those yourself. I'm done for the night." Standing, she pushed the stool hard along the floor once more. This time, it remained upright.

"Did I say you could go?" He asked, with a hint of venom in his tone.

"Excuse me?" She stood, trying to match his height but failing.

"I never said you could go. You are here as Hermione Granger, the student, not Hermione Granger, my wife," he offered. Blinking once, twice, thrice as he watched the face contort into disgust and then disbelief.

Turning away from her, he took four paces, almost placing him back where his desk was. He didn't want to be near her when she exploded like a pressure cooker.

"You really are a piece of work, aren't you?" she huffed. "It's funny how you pick and choose when you want me to be your wife and when I am just a student to you. I thought we were over this and the lines that you obviously see blurred. First and foremost, I am your wife, Severus. Secondly, I am your student. I won't be your student for much longer, but I will be your wife for quite a while longer, so I suggest you begin to see fit and act accordingly. Now, if you don't mind, I will be taking my leave and you won't throw around your authority to stop me."

"Miss Granger!" He bellowed, turning around lightning fast, his robes whipping around him as he did so. "In this classroom, I am your professor, and you will treat me as such!" He exclaimed, teeth gnashing with anger as he spoke to her.

Her lips turned upwards into a sardonic smile. "Funny, I wasn't your student when you were just all over me like a rash."

He hated this. The games he had to play with the girl were tiring and he was nearing the end of his tether. Why did she need to challenge him at every twist and bloody turn day in and day out? It was almost as if she did this shit for sport?

"Mind your tongue, Miss Granger," he warned.

"Or what?" she countered, wondering what almighty plan he may come up with that might pique her interest.

Sighing heavily, white hands smoothed over his even paler face in utter frustration. She just didn't know when to quit. "I regret the day you became my wife," he spat venomously, without thinking. Stopping once he realised what he had said, his face contorted into one of regret for a fleeting moment.

He could see the impact of his words weighed heavily upon the girl within seconds of the cut of his harsh tongue. Unsure what to do in this situation, he just stood watching the girl process five emotions within the span of as many seconds. He noticed she inhaled sharply at the same time she grabbed her wand from the desk and aimed it at him.

"I loathe you with every fibre of my being, Severus Snape!" Her voice quivered as she sat on the edge of tears.

The last thing he saw was tears of heartbreak welling in her brown eyes and the flash of a green light shooting from the end of her wand.

A/N: I promise I am still around. Just lost my motivation to write for a while so took a small break. I hope everyone is doing well.
-Aliasmel1