A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

Thank you for the reviews! You can't imagine how encouraging it is living so far from home to find my inbox full, ( I, of course, love the emails from my family and friends but I'm finding myself just as excited to see review alerts as well.) I actually have several more chapters of this story written but I'm working to revise them now, but here are two more installments. Also, please feel free to read the two shorter pieces I wrote earlier but haven't uploaded until now.

Chapter Seven

It was something that they never discussed but things changed between them, a natural result after having such intimate contact with a person's memories. Severus kept his distance as he did before, except on those occasions when the Mark on his arm called him away. Hermione would wait up and upon his return would fill his glass with Firewhiskey. Climbing into bed, he would hold onto her tightly in an effort to stem the flow of inevitable nightmares that always followed meeting with his old master. She didn't mind even if sometimes she felt he would crush her. He kept so many people away with his cold demeanor and cutting comments that deep down she felt a little honored that she was the one who could offer him comfort, however small. The next morning he inevitably returned to the sarcastic bastard he had been before, but either his tongue dulled somewhat or Hermione had grown accustomed to its sting, because she didn't seem to mind as much as she had before.

Summer slowly turned to autumn and with the return of the students, Severus grew to be more irritable than he had been before. She endured his dark moods as best she could, snapping back at him when he became too much to handle.

"Honestly! Why do you teach if you hate it so much?" she exclaimed after an hour's complaining about his newest first years. He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence about a poor boy who made even Neville look like a genius in potions.

"It's not the teaching I hate, just the students," he answered.

"You can't have one without the other," she pointed out.

"I don't know," he huffed, obviously upset to have his ranting interrupted, "because being a spy doesn't pay particularly well and I have a young wife who expects to be supported in high fashion."

"I would hardly call this high fashion," she said sardonically, "and I have never asked to be supported—just your name on a marriage certificate to get the Ministry out of my hair."

"And free reign in my bathroom," came the scathing reply.

"Now, dear, I thought we had agreed that it was 'our' bathroom," she said, her voice saccharine sweet. She had learned in the last several months that the easiest way to goad him was to call him pet names like dear or my sweet. It earned her a dangerous glare every time, but it was worth the trouble in the end. Actually she sometimes found herself enjoying their arguments, the battle of wits and words. He was much more engaging than Ron or Harry had ever been and almost as entertaining...as long as she didn't take his comments to heart. One couldn't be too sensitive when dealing with her husband.

"So why do you teach?" she asked again, ignoring the scowl he directed towards her for calling him 'dear.'

"Because Albus asked me to, and I have found that I can't say no to him," he answered.

"He is rather convincing isn't he?"

"Quite."

"There must be more though, you can't despise it as much as you claim you do. I think that deep down inside somewhere hidden you really like your students," she said slyly, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

"That's preposterous," he protested.

"Oh no it isn't," she was on a roll now, "but you're afraid to ruin your air of mystique or perhaps lose your disciplinary edge by showing you care so you react by being overly harsh. The more you like a student the more likely you are to push them in class."

"I thought your apprenticeship with Minerva involved Transfiguration not pop psychology," he sneered. She ignored his comment and continued her analysis.

"With my theory that would mean your favorite students included Neville Longbottom, Harry, and me," she teased.

"I may have been strict with Mr. Longbottom but it was in the interest of survival, I assure you. Potter," he spat the name, "is pompous and arrogant and deserved every harsh word he received. You can't be overly self-confident in Potions. It's dangerous and leads to mistakes."

"You seem to manage somehow," she retorted. He was starting to rub off on her. She was much quicker to produce a scathing remark than she ever before, but he ignored it this time.

"And you...," he paused trying to find the best combination of insults to hurl at her.

"Were the best student you ever had?" she finished for him.

"Hardly," he scoffed.

"Admit it. I was the brightest, most enthusiastic student you have had," she said eagerly.

"If by enthusiastic you mean annoying then yes," he answered.

"And the brightest?"

"You were adequate. I recall Malfoy being quite good though," he said with an evil grin on his face. He knew that she despised Draco Malfoy and several times he had beaten her for the highest marks in Potions.

It was her turn to scowl. How was it that he knew exactly which buttons to push and when to push them? She left him on the couch, a victorious smirk on his face, to prepare for bed.

The next day she accompanied Severus into Hogsmeade.

"Do you have to walk so fast?" she said, jogging to catch up. She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, forcing him to slow his pace.

"Do you have to walk so slow?" he said scowling down at her.

"Why did you ask me to come if you intended to scurry off with me jogging behind?" she asked irritated and out of breath.

"I thought it prudent that we make a public appearance as a married couple," he told her tersely.

"To prove to the Ministry that we are following the letter of the law and demonstrate my affection and trust in you to anyone else who might see us?"

"Exactly," he nodded. Hermione smiled and reached for his hand. He looked at her surprised.

"We're married," she reminded him, "we want people to know." He didn't answer but gripped her hand tighter. She liked the feel of her hand in his and they walked in companionable silence. Upon reaching the wizard village, however, Hermione began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Not many outside the Order members and the Hogwart's staff knew of her marriage to Snape. Now she had to face the stares and whispered speculations as they passed through the crowded streets.

"Your Gryffindor courage isn't failing you is it?" he whispered silkily into her ear. She jerked back at the remark that stung almost as much as the stares. She suddenly realized that this was what he had meant before; she had assumed he implied living with him would take courage. But now she rather thought she would need nerves of steel to face the scorn that was attached to him and now consequently herself as well. Her friends, and even her family after much discussion, had accepted and supported her decision but what about acquaintances, former schoolmates, and others?

He pulled her along from where she had paused. Despite his taunting he gave her hand a comforting squeeze and then began tracing small circles in her palm with his thumb as he led her into the bookstore.

"I assume you want to start here?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

She nodded enthusiastically. Dropping his hand, she began perusing the shelves for new titles. From behind her she heard him snort in amusement at her eagerness.

"I'll come back to collect you in an hour," he told her, "I have other business to attend to, Potions ingredients to buy." She waved her hand absentmindedly to let him know she had heard him and then turned her full attention to the shelves before her.

.She wandered around the store for over an hour, choosing at last three books to buy, including the one Severus had recommended on the combination of Transfiguration and Potions. Checking her watch, she wondered where he was. The Apothecary where she knew he bought most of his ingredients wasn't far, surely he would be done by now. Almost reluctantly she left the bookshop and wandered out into the streets.

"Hermione!" she heard someone exclaim. Turning to look, she saw Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown in front of her.

"Hello," she greeted them warmly. They spent several minutes chatting, dispensing with the regular niceties before the conversation turned to the marriage law and who in their class at Hogwart's had been affected.

"We're getting married in two weeks," Lavender practically squealed, showing Hermione the engagement ring on her finger.

"Congratulations," she said.

"We heard a rumor that you were already married...," Seamus tried to sound casual, but Hermione knew that they both were itching to know the truth.

"Not only that but to Snape!" Lavender said, laughing. "We didn't believe it of course."

"But it's true," she said, watching as looks of horror spread over the couple's faces.

"Professor Snape?" Lavender sputtered. Seamus at least was calmer about her proclamation.

"I always thought you and Ron would get married," he said.

"Yes, well, so did a lot of other people," she said starting to get irritated with this conversation.

"But Ron is too much like a brother to me for us to have considered it. And my other options were few and far between," she lied. "Living with Severus has been very convenient in regards to my apprenticeship, and of course I have unlimited access to the Hogwart's library...even the Restricted Section." She couldn't tell them that her husband was a spy or a member of the Order of the Phoenix, that she respected his bravery and dedication. But they seemed to accept without effort her excuse about the library, it was after all a large part of the whole truth.

The conversation soon faltered. And after a few moments of awkward silence, Hermione finally extricated herself with as much grace as possible.

"Well, I must be going. I was just looking for Severus when I bumped into you," she said, noticing their discomfort at her using his given name.

"Goodbye then," said Lavender.

"Good luck with Snape," Seamus offered gallantly, before escorting Lavender away. Hermione shook her head. She hoped she didn't have many more conversations like that, but she feared she would be unable to avoid them. Perhaps she should take an ad out in the 'Daily Prophet' explaining her reasoning. Or maybe the 'Quibbler'? Yes, she thought after some reflection, her marriage to Snape was a story more fitting for the 'Quibbler'—hardly believable.