Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

Of Love and Livelihood

Part Two

After two months into the fall term, Severus and Hermione had developed a sort of schedule for spending nights together. Monday through Thursday, their evenings were spent in London in Hermione's flat. Most of their time was spent in her bed, lying on her lumpy mattress, and eating whatever take away Hermione had procured for dinner. Severus would read and mark papers, and, eventually, they would go to sleep.

She'd been chewing on a mouthful of Lo Mien one evening towards the end of October when she suddenly turned her head to stare at him with an expression of amazement. "When did you start wearing specs?"

"What?" he asked, using his peripheral view to glance at her quickly before directing his attention back to Jamie Meyer's poorly written paper.

"The glasses," she said, using her chopsticks to point to the spectacles he wore. "Where did they come from?"

He snorted. "A shop on Diagon Alley, I believe."

"And why did you buy them?" she asked.

He sighed, absently scratching the scarred skin of his left forearm with the stiff feather of his quill. "I was getting headaches after spending hours marking papers. I told Poppy about it, and she suggested I get reading glasses."

"Oh," said Hermione as she munched on her noodles. "I like them, Severus. They're quite sexy."

He snorted again. "The glasses are sexy?"

She gave him a small smile. "Well, not the glasses themselves. I've never been one for inanimate objects, but they are quite becoming on you. They make you look even more dignified. If that's possible."

"Miss Granger," he began, sneering at her, "if I wasn't madly in love with you, I doubt very much that I would be able to stand you or your twittering for a period of more than ten minutes."

She laughed at this, setting her noodle carton and chopsticks on the nightstand. "Professor," she said, as she rubbed her legs against his, "make love to me."

"Gladly, my dear," he said as he set the papers and his quill on the nightstand and reached to remove his spectacles.

"No!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand to still it. "Leave the glasses on, darling. I promise to mend them if something happens to them. Please."

He smirked as he gathered her into his arms and moved his mouth to cover hers. "Certainly, Miss Granger."

-----

The weekends were spent in his quarters in Hogwarts. She would arrive after dinner on Friday evenings, stepping out of the fireplace, dropping her bag carelessly to the ground, and running to whatever chair he occupied to launch herself into his lap and cuddle against him.

As he often remarked when she did this, if he didn't love her so very much, he was quite certain he'd find the action positively repulsive.

One Friday evening, Severus was sitting in his favorite arm chair waiting for Hermione when he decided he needed a plan. Minerva had told him at dinner that in Hermione's last owl, she had written that Severus's apparent lack of commitment was causing her to seriously reconsider their relationship. She added, according to Minerva, that if it hadn't been for the fantastic shagging, she wasn't sure it would have lasted as long as it had.

While Severus had learned how to accept a compliment, he was not above admitting that her doubts with regards to the relationship and the very notion that she had only stayed with him because he was a good time in the sack was fairly disconcerting.

And he realized that he had no idea where to start with the business of getting engaged.

Mentally, he made a list of all the men he knew who had once (and sometimes twice) successfully proposed to a woman. There were his Death Eater friends, but they were all dead or in Azkaban and would be of little help to him. That left the members of the Order he still kept in contact with and who had married, his family friends and relatives, and his godson.

He had little interest in seeking out the help of members of the Order of the Phoenix, for he knew that they would do nothing but give him a hard time about being in love. And, of course, very few of them actually liked him enough to consider assisting him. His contact with relatives and friends of relatives had been so limited that Severus supposed it would probably be so shocking to them to actually hear from him that he would be too bombarded with questions about his own well being to ever get answers to his queries. Thus, Severus decided immediately that the first person he'd turn to for assistance on the matter would be Draco.

-----

As Severus walked into his godson's office in Malfoy Manor, he was surprised to observe the striking similarities between Draco and his father that had seemingly manifested overnight. Draco had apparently taken to dressing in the more traditional pureblood fashions and was growing his hair out to a length that might one day rival his father's. It seemed that he had finally adjusted to the role of Lord of the Manor, and had done it quite admirably.

Stepping through the doorway, he saw that Draco was hunched over his desk, pinching his lip between his thumb and forefinger as his quill scratched across the page of what looked to be an account book. Severus closed the door quietly behind him and seated himself in one of the leather wingbacks that rested before the desk.

Draco's eyes flitted from the book to his godfather's face before he again directed his attention back to his accounts. This small action was his only response to his godfather's sudden appearance, though Severus did notice that he stopped tugging on his lip.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and Severus waited patiently for Draco to acknowledge his presence. It was pureblood behavioral code; Draco would condescend to speak to he who had interrupted his work when he damn well felt like it. Severus was well aware of the established mode and settled back into his seat to wait. It wasn't as if he were pressed for time, anyway.

After a few short minutes, Draco finally cleared his throat. "You're looking remarkably well, Severus," he said as he continued to make notes.

"Thank you, Draco," he replied.

"That Granger must be quite the shag," Draco said, smirking down at his book.

Severus nearly tsked aloud. The boy obviously needed to work on his baiting. "Indeed," he said softly.

Severus watched Draco's grin falter as he set his quill down on his desk and looked up at his godfather. "So what do you want, Severus? You aren't a man who simply drops in to visit his friends and family."

Severus allowed his godson a small smile. "I'd like you to tutor me in the art of proposing marriage, Draco."

The younger man's eyes doubled in size. "Proposing? Severus you're going to propose to Granger?"

"No," he replied, slightly miffed by the tone of incredulity in his godson's voice, "I plan on asking Filch for his hand."

"Right," Malfoy said as he leaned back in his seat, studying his godfather with his gray eyes. "Of course."

"So," Severus said, "what I need from you, my dearest godson, is to tell me how you go about asking a woman to marry you."

Draco watched him for a few seconds longer before shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't really propose to Ginny in the traditional sense of the word."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Draco cleared his throat, and Severus was amazed to watch a blush stain his cheeks. "Look, Severus, we were in bed and I was just about to, well, um, well, get to the business of well, you know, and she pulled away from me and said she wouldn't sleep with me anymore if I didn't ask her to marry me. And I was so desperate that I didn't even think of what she was demanding, I just remember commanding she marry me, and when she said yes, I pounced."

Severus frowned as his godson sat before him blushing and staring down at his hands. "Well," Snape said, "I suppose that's not very romantic."

"Erm, no," said Draco. "I suppose it's not."

Severus sighed and tried to think of his other options. "I was depending on you to have the solution to my problem."

Draco looked up at Snape. "Potter," he said.

"Bane of my existence, yes," Severus replied.

"No, no," said Draco, "Potter did some fancy thing for Luna. Rose petals strewn on the bed or something horrible like that. Go see him about it."

Severus frowned. "Right."

-----

Snape knew that the entire Ministry of Magic took their lunch break at noon. It was ridiculous, in Severus's opinion, to have the entire bloody Ministry out of the office at the same time, but it was tradition. They'd done it for years and years and would probably continue to do it for decades more. Thus, Severus arrived at the Aurors' offices at precisely one o'clock because he knew that they made it a point to be back at their desks at precisely five minutes before the hour.

Potter's secretary was filing her nails when Severus came to stand before her desk. She was humming softly to herself as the file went back and forth across her nails; Severus thought it to be the most grating combination of sounds he'd ever encountered.

He had to clear his throat six times before the girl actually looked up at him. "Yeah?" she asked, smacking loudly on the apparently monstrously large wad of gum lodged in her mouth.

He sneered. "I need to speak to Mr. Potter."

She gave a very loud, very exasperated sigh. "Yeah, well, you'll have to wait. He's on the floo to France or Mongolia or something. So, you can take a seat over there," she said, waving the nail file in the direction of three chairs that rested against the wall.

He nodded his thanks and walked over to the chairs, sitting in the seat that stood next to an end table which was piled high with magazines. He pulled the first magazine from the pile atop the table, saw that it was 'Witch Weekly,' and decided to choose another. It was also 'Witch Weekly.' After inspecting the pile, Severus saw that they were all 'Witch Weekly.'

He sighed and decided to stare at Potter's door instead of reading. He sat, willing the door to open, for approximately twenty minutes before Potter finally emerged looking quite frazzled.

"Angie!" he barked at the girl behind the desk.

"Yeah?" she asked, continuing to file her nails.

Potter threw a stack of parchments onto her desk. "I need you to owl these documents to the Aurors' offices at the Ministry of Magic in Bangladesh. And I need you to do it immediately. All right?"

"Yeah," she replied, as she held her hand out in front of her to inspect her nails. "You've got a visitor, Mr. Potter."

Snape watched as Potter spun around to look in his direction, making no effort to hide the look surprise and the succeeding look of distaste on his face. "Professor Snape," he said, a great deal more softly than when he'd been addressing his secretary. "What can I do for you today?"

Severus stood from his seat and took a few steps towards Potter. He was quite glad to see he stood a good taller than Potter. Height was always a useful tool when attempting to intimidating someone into cooperating. "A personal matter," he said softly, "that I would feel more comfortable discussing in private." He gave a purposeful glance in the direction of Potter's secretary who was closely inspecting the nail on her ring finger.

"Angie!" Potter barked again. "The owlery! Now!"

Angie gave the same long and exasperated sigh she had given when Severus had requested to see Potter. Snape watched as Potter shook his head in disgust before turning back to him. "Why don't we continue this in my office, Professor."

Severus nodded and followed Potter into his office. It looked, unsurprisingly enough, very much like Albus's. Potter gestured to the large, brown leather chair that sat before his desk before seating himself behind the desk in a high backed chair that looked very much like the one Albus had at Hogwarts.

"So," Potter said when they'd both seated themselves, "What's this personal matter then?"

Severus nodded slightly, hoping to convey his gratefulness for Potter's attempt to get directly to the point. "I need advice on how to propose to Hermione."

Potter's jaw dropped. "What?"

Severus sighed; the boy was quite obviously still an absolute idiot. "Draco told me you proposed in a very romantic manner to Luna, and I was hoping you might be able to give me some, er, tips."

"Right," Potter said, nodding, but looking at him quite warily. "Um. Right."

"How did you propose to your wife, Potter?" Snape demanded, using his classroom tone.

"Oh!" Potter said, sitting up straighter. "Oh, well, it was brilliant. We were at a Cannon's match, and at halftime they put the ads back up on the scoreboard, right? And so I had them put up, 'Luna, my love, marry me,' and she said yes, of course."

Severus felt his brow furrowing in confusion. "No rose petals strewn on top of beds? No candlelit meals? No poetic proclamations of love?"

Potter stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"Nothing," Severus replied, sighing as he shook his head sadly. "Nothing."

"Look, Professor, if you want to know what sort of flowery, girly things a woman would want to have included in a wedding proposal, you need to ask a woman about it. Or something really close to a woman anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Ron. Bloody pouf would know precisely what a woman would want in a wedding proposal since he's practically one himself," Harry said, finishing his thought by clucking his tongue and shaking his head in what Severus supposed was disbelief.

And though he would never admit it aloud, in that moment Severus thought Harry Potter to be an absolute genius.