A/N: "Ellan Vaneen" = "Isle of Man", in Manx Gaelic. The Isle of Man is an island in the Irish sea between the UK and Ireland; Port Erin, where I've located the Granger's summer cottage, is on the southwest side.

There are many characteristics of the Isle of Man that put it high in the running for a real-world location for Avalon, a magical island that figures heavily in Arthurian legend. I'm taking the liberty of saying that is is Avalon.

Maybe Snape will tell you more later :)

--------

"Nabokov, Severus? What an interesting choice of reading material."

Snape's eyes glinted as he set the book aside. "Bite me, Remus."

"Well, now. That certainly would be one way out of your predicament, wouldn't it?"

"Turning into a monstrous being, maddened by desires, praying on innocent flesh? Would I notice a difference?"

"Ah, Severus." Lupin settled himself into the opposite booth, lifting his Firewhiskey to his lips. "Not many men would venture out on a night like this to listen to you whinge about having to bed a beautiful woman."

"A beautiful student, whose mind is not her own..."

"Most men would consider that the gift-wrapping."

"We are not most men, Remus."

"Indeed we are not."

Remus swirled his whiskey. "I take it you have not actually done the deed yet."

"I have not."

"Because...?"

"I would prefer to wait."

Lupin's eyebrow rose insolently. "Because...?"

"For one thing, her NEWTs. I'm working on a potion to lessen the effects of the Binding, to allow her to get through the school year more efficiently."

"How's that going?"

"Quite well, apparently, seeing as she's managed to run away from me twice."

"You could, perhaps, attempt to be less terrifying."

"I've had too many years of practice."

"If you've loosened the Binding, what's the problem?"

"I seem to have only loosened parts of it. She has her will, but certain... other parts of the Binding have not been affected at all."

"The Cruciatus?"

"Still in effect, and the..." Snape broke off, staring darkly into his drink.

"Well, well, well," Lupin grinned gently. "So she wants to slap you around, call you names, and shag you rotten?"

"You have a detestible turn of phrase, Remus."

"Well, I am a monstrous being, maddened by desires, Severus. One might say I've had too many years of practice."

Snape growled low in his throat.

"At any rate, Severus... it sounds like you've created your perfect woman."

"My perfect woman," Snape hissed, "Would not be miserable during it."

The humor fell from Lupin's face. "She's miserable?"

"Miss Granger is a creature of the mind, Remus. She is not used to this... onslaught."

"Are you certain of that? And are you sure she minds?"

"The girl bursts into tears whenever I talk to her!"

"So does Neville Longbottom!"

"Well, he did, Remus." Snape's eyes were twinking again, the eyebrow soaring. "Until you helped him to visualize me in the party frock."

"Now Severus. It wasn't a party frock. And you did look awfully pretty."

"I'm sure you recall it in detail late at night when you're alone," Snape drawled, motioning for a refill.

Lupin batted his eyelashes. "Darling, how'd you know?"

"Pervert."

"Ah, yes, Severus, I'm the pervert... tell me, when you imagine your wife naked, does she keep the knee socks on?"

"Shall I order an additional box of salt for you to rub in my wounds?"

"I'm trying to make you laugh, you gloomy ass."

"You are not succeeding."

"I noticed. Severus, has it occurred to you that perhaps you have suppressed all parts of the Binding equally?"

"Obviously not, since I have not."

"Perhaps wanting to slap you around and shag you silly is Miss Granger's natural reaction to you."

"Remus, have you, by any chance, looked at me lately?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I've also looked at Victor Krum, who looks rather like you sculpted in miniature. And I can't help but notice that when faced with a choice between Harry and Ron, she went with Harry -- he's rather the broodier, angstier of the two, wouldn't you say? Perhaps you're her type, Severus."

"If you're deducing her taste in men from her taste in boys, Lupin, shouldn't she have been ripping the robes off Malfoy by now?"

"Malfoy is a spoilt, whiny, brat with just enough charm to keep himself surrounded in muscle. You are neither spoilt nor whiny, and you certainly don't have charm."

Lupin grinned wickedly. "Well, periodically you are whiny."

"I'm so glad we had this talk," Snape drawled.

"Severus, she chose you. Weasley bid on her, as did a hundred other wizards... and she chose you. Over one of her best friends. Don't you find that rather intriguing?"

"She didn't want to leave Potter, didn't want to miss her NEWTs. She's a logical, ambitious, brilliant, loyal girl, Lupin."

"Like I said," Lupin grinned, tossing back the rest of his drink. "Your perfect woman."

"My perfect woman is not a girl."

Lupin gathered his cloak, throwing it over one arm. "Don't forget brave, Severus. Terribly, terribly brave. She did, after all, sign up to raise Baby Snapes."

---

"Criniscuro," Hermione whispered, staring into her mirror critically. Her hair obediently rearranged itself. It was better, but...

You're primping for Snape. I just wanted to call that to your attention. In case you hadn't noticed what an utter idiot you're being right now.

Hermione whispered a slicing charm, and all the layers of poofy ruffles on her nightgown fell off. Better, but flannel was still kind of...

A quick transfiguration, and the flannel had turned to silk.

Red, though... he probably didn't like red... would remind him of all the times her House had utterly pulverized his in Quidditch...

With a little smirk, Hermione waved her wand, and the nightgown turned black.

On the other hand... let him suffer.

Back to red.

Little bit too concealing, I think...

Hermione closed her eyes, conjuring up an image of those catalogues that came for her mother yet always seemed to end up in her father's possession.

There.

Hermione smiled at herself in satisfaction. There would be no more fluffy sheep-print pyjama cracks tonight.

You do realize if McGonagall knew what you were doing with the knowledge she's imparted, she'd be screaming her head off in horror right about now?

Right. Time to have a little chat with Snape.

---

She appeared behind his armchair; she could just see one elegant hand, turning pages before the fire.

"What are you reading?"

Snape set the book aside. "1001 Cruel Insults For Lovely People."

"Wow," Hermione said innocently. "And here I thought I'd read all your books."

She heard a very soft chuckle. "You seem to be in improved spirits this evening, Miss Granger."

"You'd be amazed how pleasant I can be when I'm not undergoing the Cruciatus Curse."

"Alas, if only the same could be said for me. I expected you rather later."

"I thought we might talk."

A sigh. "Very well. Have a seat, Miss Granger."

Hermione took the opportunity to lean on his armrest. "I thought we agreed you were going to call me Hermione?"

"I..."

And Snape broke off, his eyes flying wide at the small mountain of cleavage three inches from his chin. "Mi... Hermione, what the hell is that getup you have on?"

"You didn't like my sheep pyjamas," Hermione yawned, curling up into the other armchair. "I thought I'd wear one of my other nightgowns."

"Well, that certainly explains your popularity in Gryffindor Tower," Snape sneered. "And here I thought you owed that to your sparkling personality, not your visible nipples."

Hermione's eyes shot down in horror.

"Made you look," Snape purred.

"Oh, rot in hell, Snape," Hermione snapped.

Snape's eyebrow soared. "That's much better. For a moment, I was rather afraid you were a boggart..."

"I'm your worst fear? I'll save that information for later..."

"On the contrary, dear, I merely thought someone had already cast a Riddikulus charm on you."

Hermione paled... then her eyes narrowed. "I don't suppose you have a companion volume? 1001 Cruel Comebacks For Horrid Gits? I've only received one wedding present, after all, and none from my husband."

"Ah, but I am your present, Hermione." Severus' lips curled. "The overwhelming sweetness of my company."

"I don't suppose you kept the receipt?"

"Watch yourself, Hermione, I'm perilously close to being glad you stopped by. What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"You mentioned children last night."

His eyes grew hooded. "So I did."

"May I ask how you plan to produce them if you never intend to touch me?"

Snape sighed heavily. "Yes. We should discuss this."

But apparently not face-to-face; he rose from his chair to stand behind her, looking at the wall. "I have thought about this, if you'd like to hear my conclusions."

"Go ahead."

"Obviously, we'll want to prepare the potion you've devised. And I suggest we wait until this summer to use it."

Her stomach gave a funny little lurch of protest. "Why?"

"I understand that pregnancy is most taxing on a woman's body and mind. Surely you don't want to take your NEWTs in a compromised state."

"But... I'd hoped to have the babies right after my NEWTs, and be done with the Binding..."

"I understand your eagerness to be free, Miss Granger. However, I've improved the potion since your last use of it. I believe it will remove many of your current... ill effects. I'd like to offer you an apprenticeship with me, to begin immediately after classes end..."

"I can't handle Potions ingredients when I'm pregnant."

"I am, of course, aware of this. You would be confined to the safest..."

"I'm not doing a half-assed apprenticeship, Snape."

"I do not give half-assed apprenticeships, Hermione."

"I don't even want to apprentice in Potions. Thank you for your kind offer, Professor, but I reject it."

Snape's voice grew low, dangerous. "I have not taken on an apprentice in over a decade, Miss Granger..."

"Hermione."

"... Hermione. It is an honor for which many would do much."

"Like sleep with you? I'm already going to be doing that."

Snape's hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. "I think you'll find that there are not many Masters... let alone one of my caliber... who are willing to take on an apprentice whose concentration is interrupted by child-rearing."

"Child-rearing your own children!"

"You are making my point for me, Hermione."

"I don't want to wait. I don't want to be Bound a second longer than I have to be. And I definitely don't want my apprenticeship compromised by being Bound to my Master."

Snape crossed his arms. "So you're demanding that I knock you up now, is that it?"

"Pretty much!"

"And do you have the potion prepared?"

"Well, no, of course I don't, I..."

"Then it's not happening tonight, is it? Get in the bed, this ridiculous conversation is over."

"I haven't even --"

"Get in the bed, Hermione, you have instilled in me an overwhelming wish to be unconscious."

"Which side do you want?"

"What?"

"Which side of the bed do you want?"

"Whichever one you are not on."

"Fine by me," Hermione huffed, springing out of the chair.

---

Oh, wow. So warm...

Hermione wriggled happily, still half-asleep, the bed deliciously comfortable and this wonderful source of heat behind her, such a nice contrast to the chilly air on her face...

Chilly?

Hermione's eyes popped open, to be rewarded with a sideways view of dungeon wall.

Yep. I'm in bed with Snape.

She'd cuddled up to him in the night, apparently... a verb she'd never thought would apply to Snape in a million years. Somehow, they'd ended up spooned together, his arm flung around her stomach, his face against her neck, his...

Oh, that's interesting.

Hermione gave another experimental wriggle, and Snape let out a little sigh and pulled her closer. A little surge of heat pooled in Hermione's belly.

That happens to guys in the morning, doesn't it?

Hermione let out a little yawn and wriggled again, deliberately grinding her hips against Snape's...

... and then, she felt him push back, and the warmth spread, running through her bloodstream. His breath, still heavy and regular, tickled the back of her neck... the warmth of his body radiating through her thin nightgown, his arm grazing the undersides of her breasts.

He's still asleep...

Hermione arched her back, pressing herself against Snape in slow, grinding circles, something primitive, instinctual welling within her as he moved against her, drawing her closer, the warm flat of his palm sliding down the silk at her stomach, his breath growing more shallow. She could feel the muscles in his arms move as he clutched her to him...

And then, he stopped.

Damn, damn, damn...

"Hermione." His voice, roughened by sleep, was somehow even lower and sexier than before. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I can't get comfortable," she lied.

"Try sleeping on your own side, then." And Snape rolled over, turning his back to her.

It felt like her heartbeat had relocated southward, hot fog in her brain, eliminating all tracks of her mind but one.

"I'm cold, though," she said, molding her body to his, her hand snaking around his stomach to wrap him as he'd wrapped her.

"Then go back to your own room, the five hours should be up now."

She let her hand stray two inches lower on his stomach.

"Did you not hear me? I said go back to your own room."

And two inches lower. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

"But I'm comfortable."

"You just said you weren't."

"But I am now." She laid her cheek against the planes of his shoulders.

"Fine," Snape spat. "I'll get up."

Hermione's hand clamped around his wrist. "Please don't."

"We're both awake. We might as well get up."

"I thought... maybe we could talk."

"We talked last night."

"You talked. I didn't get to."

"That's not how I remember it."

"Do you want me to start brewing the potion today?"

Snape stiffened. "It's too soon."

"I don't think so."

"Fine. I'll brew up a Placidus during my free period."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You'll what?"

Snape blinked at the fury in her voice. "I thought... I assumed..."

"That I'd want to be knocked out for it?"

"I didn't think you'd want to..."

"Be awake? Remember it? My first time? Are you insane?"

Snape blinked. "Well, that way you wouldn't have to experience it..."

Hermione started laughing, and Snape recoiled, his voice going ice-cold. "What in the world is amusing about that, Miss Granger?"

"Oh, for God's sakes, would you call me Hermione? I'm your fucking wife!"

"Very well... Hermione... what the hell is so funny?"

"You! You're all swooping around, ooooooooh I'm Snape, I'm soooooo scaaaaary, fear my wrath, and you've got no self-esteem at all!"

Snape stiffened. "You're using Muggle pop-psychology on me?"

"Hell, you're worse than Neville, at least Neville doesn't want to give Dorcas knock-out drugs so he won't inflict himself on her!"

Snape's eyes were slits. "You did not just compare me to Neville Longbottom."

"I'm afraid I did, Professor. Don't be mad, though -- from what Dorcas tells me endlessly, Neville knows his way around a bed a hell of a lot better than he knows his way around a cauldron... maybe he could give you lessons..."

Before Hermione could blink, she'd been thrown back against the bed, her wrists captured above her head, Snape's mouth inches from her own, his body pinning hers.

"Make no mistake, Hermione," Snape growled into her ear. "My sense of honor is the only thing protecting your chastity. I don't need the Ministry's interference to make you want me. If I chose to, I could have you begging me, and I wouldn't need a potion, an Unforgivable, or Fudge's damnable Law..."

"Professor Snape?" Hermione said innocently.

"Yes?" he spat.

Hermione leaned up, pressing her lips against his ear. "I wanted you before I signed the contract. It's one of the reasons I signed it."

And while he was still frozen in shock, Hermione wriggled out from beneath him, bouncing off the bed.

"What?" Snape hissed, still frozen in place, rather ridiculous now that he loomed over her absence.

"Gotta go, Professor," Hermione said cheerfully. "Late for Arithmancy. Y'know. See you tonight, though."

She turned the stone in her ring, and disappeared.

Hermione Granger, Hermione thought in satisfaction as she peeled off the nightgown, You are getting damned good at exits.