Chapter Twelve

Once again, a few days later, Severus and Hermione found themselves walking up to the orphanage. The matron met them in the yard this time. She strode through the throng of children, who parted like the Red Sea at her fiery appearance.

"I have talked to Narcissa Malfoy, and you are no friends of hers," she spat when she had reached them. She was huffing, and her fingers clenched around her wand. Severus almost chuckled to himself at the thought of her taking on a former Death Eater and a recent Auror. If the two of them alone couldn't handle her then the mass of children would most likely help.

"Indeed not, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends, Ms. Wondergood," he said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Wondergood asked, with a puzzled look on her red face.

"It means you have information we want, and we have gold that you want," Hermione said. She turned and smiled at Severus.

"Well said, my dear." He turned and looked at Wondergood. "Shall we go inside and discuss this more rationally?" He ushered the bewildered matron inside, Hermione following behind.

"Just how much gold?" Wondergood asked as they mounted the steps leading inside.

"Please, let us not talk in such vulgar terms until we've observed the niceties," Severus said smoothly.

"Fine, fine," she agreed, looking less angry than she had when she had stormed outside. No doubt she was calculating just how much money she could demand for the information she had.

"I'll make us some tea and we can talk things through," Severus said once they reached the office. Hermione chatted idly about some child while Severus poured the tea, adding just a few drops of Veritaserum to Wondergood's cup.

"Now, for business," he said, handing both women a cup of tea. Hermione sipped. Wondergood paused, looking back and forth between Severus and Hermione.

"Why are you looking for Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

"It is no secret that Hermione has lost her memories. We think that Malfoy is somehow connected," Severus explained. He took a sip of his tea. Wondergood's cup hovered near her lips.

"I can help you," she said, bringing the cup to her mouth. She took a sip, and then set the cup down.

"Why yes you can, Ms. Wondergood, yes you can," Severus said. He watched as her eyes glazed over.

"Where is Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Wondergood answered in a monotone voice.

"But you've been helping him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Narcissa sends money to me. I then give a portion to a Mr. Mahoney. He makes sure that Draco receives the money."

"After taking a cut himself," Severus said with a scowl.

"Yes."

"How can we find this Mr. Mahoney?" Hermione asked.

"He eats lunch at the Fiery Dragon in Warsaw."

"I followed him to Warsaw when I saw him last week," Hermione said.

"He might avoid all of his favorite haunts for awhile if he's smart, but we'll have Potter place some surveillance just in case," Severus said. Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

"I think it's wearing off," she said, motioning to Wondergood. It was indeed.

"I won't give you any information until we decide on a number," Wondergood said. Severus smirked.

"Obliviate," he said, raising his wand. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Wondergood. Hermione has enjoyed her time here, but she won't be available to volunteer any longer."

"What a shame," Wondergood replied, looking a bit confused. "We'll miss seeing her around."

"I'm sure you will," he said. Hermione smirked, and they left. But her smile didn't last long.

"Was that such a good idea?" she asked as they walked down to the gate.

"We got the information that we wanted, didn't we?"

"I meant the Obliviate. I mean they can go horribly wrong. Mine did. What if she can't remember who she is?"

"She'll be just fine, Hermione," he said, a little frustrated that she would compare his spell-casting with whoever had done this to her.

"I'm just saying…"

"Well I'm saying that we should take this information to your friend Potter. The sooner the better."

"Yes, I suppose so," she said. But she was quiet the entire time they were at the Ministry. Not even a trip to her desk could excite her. Severus knew what would cheer her up—a trip to Flourish and Blotts.

Her face lit up, the Estrilda Wondergood's Obliviate instantly forgotten at the prospect of visiting her favorite store. Severus hated shopping in Diagon Alley, and would have preferred to Apparate or Floo directly back to Hogwarts, but if it meant a happier Hermione then he would do it.

"I've been owl-ordering everything recently. But nothing beats whiling away an afternoon in a proper bookshop. And Flourish and Blotts is so much better than that hole in the wall place in Hogsmeade," she chattered away as they walked down Diagon Alley. When they entered the store, she made a grand gesture of inhaling. "I even love the smell of books," she said.

"I made you a perfume once that smelled of books," he told her.

"Really?"

"No. Do you think I want to smell dusty parchment when I pull you close?" he said sharply, the sight of the other shoppers already starting to get to him. He strode to Potions section and perused the shelf. They had a few things that looked interesting and he pulled one book out to shuffle through it. Hermione hummed quietly to herself, standing next to him and reading a text on Shrinking Potions.

The book he had proved to be nothing he needed immediately, though he did note the title for later consideration. He set the book down to find that Hermione had disappeared. The store was getting more and more crowded. Saturdays always were busy shopping days, and Severus despised the way he was getting jostled about. Scanning the room, he spotted Hermione across the way, looking at the new fiction arrivals. She glanced up and caught his eye. He crooked his finger, motioning for her to come to him. He wanted to leave; the press of people was turning a normally inviting bookshop into Severus' own private hell.

She smiled and shook her head no. Now that she was in the bookshop, he knew it wasn't going to be easy getting her out again. He stalked through the crowd, mumbling an insincere apology as he knocked the books out of an elderly wizard's hands. But when he arrived in the fiction section, she was gone.

He looked around, catching sight of her among the cookbooks. She had a book open with an exuberant wizard on the front chopping vegetables, but she wasn't reading it. She stood peering over its edge, watching him. As soon as he moved her way, she threw the book down and moved again.

So she wanted to play a game of cat and mouse did she? The store was full of bustling customers so that no one would notice the two of them discreetly chasing each other. And he was willing to cast aside a little bit of personal dignity, albeit a very small amount, if it meant that she was flirting openly with him. He only hoped she knew what she had gotten herself into. He hadn't been a spy all those years for nothing. He pursued her for a few minutes more, watching with satisfaction as she flitted from section to section. But after she evaded him in Travel, he changed the rules of the game. Picking up a book on the Egyptian pyramids, he idly perused the pages while watching her. He slipped behind a group of foreign warlocks and then moved to a darkened corner.

It didn't take long before he heard her approaching. Quickly he turned around, grabbing her by the forearms and pulling them behind a bookshelf away from prying eyes.

"I win," she whispered.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I win."

"You win?"

"Yes, don't you know that the best hunters get their prey to come to them?" he said with an evil smirk. She huffed in indignation, dismayed to learn that she had lost her little game.

"So I'm the prey? Well, now that you have me, will you hang my head on your wall?"

"I think I'd rather devour you," he answered, his gaze moving from her eyes down to her mouth. He could hear her breath hitch, and her color reddened.

"I think I-I might like that," she said hesitantly. He stepped closer, his eyes meeting hers. Nerves, anticipation, and desire mingled together there.

"Oh you will," he promised.

"Excuse me, excuse me," a squeaky voice said next to them, bringing them crashing back to the reality that they were still in the bookstore.

"What?" he hissed, snapping his head around to see a short plump witch glaring at them.

"You're standing in my way," she huffed. "I'm looking for Magical Me." Severus glared at her. She glared back.

"I think I'm ready to go," Hermione said, moving out of the way. Severus shot one last nasty look at the old hag, and followed after his wife. With his hand at her back, he guided her through the crowd until they reached the registers. The line snaked back and around one of the bookshelves, reminding Severus why he normally owl-ordered most things. Hermione looked up at him and smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

"We can come back another time," she offered.

He raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I didn't really find anything I just had to have today. And I ordered some the other day that should be coming by owl post this week anyway. I do need some new robes though, if you don't mind stopping there as well."

"Alright then," he said, glad to be out of the crowded store, although he was still upset to have had their moment ruined. He led her out the door and into the street. "I need to go to the Apothecary. You go on to Madam Malkin's. I'll be damned if I'm going to wait around while you fritter over robe lengths."

"I'll meet you back at The Leaky Cauldron," she said before turning and making her way to the dressmaker's.

Severus took his time at the Apothecary, picking and choosing his ingredients with care. After haggling with the witch over prices, he headed towards the Leaky Cauldron to find Hermione. He turned the corner and then he saw it.

Percy Weasley had his wife backed against the wall.

"I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE," he yelled, dropping his bags. He could feel his control slipping his way. He didn't remember pulling out his wand, but he distinctly felt it as it flew from his hand as someone yelled, "Expelliarmus!" But even that wasn't enough to stop him. Punching out, he felt his hand connect with Weasley's nose. He wheeled back to punch him again, but Hermione jumped on him, pushing him back.

"No, Severus!"

"You BASTARD!" Percy yelled, clutching his nose, blood spurting everywhere.

"I'll kill him," Severus growled.

"Then you'll go to Azkaban and leave me alone," she whispered desperately as he struggled against her hold.

"I'm pressing charges for this, you great greasy git. I'm a Ministry employee…attacked right here in the middle of the street. You saw it didn't you?" he asked the small crowd that had started to gather.

"Where were you September 23rd?" Severus yelled over the prat's continued whining.

"You don't think that he has anything to do with, do you?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing, but her hold didn't loosen any. Severus didn't answer but pulled her closer; it was the only thing that kept him from ripping Weasley in two.

"I don't have to answer to you!" Percy yelled back.

"C'mon let's go. Severus, please," Hermione pleaded.

"I'm going to do more than ask questions, you arrogant twat!" Severus yelled.

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Then you are a bigger fool than I thought," Severus spat.

"Please let's go." He struggled a few moments more, but finally relented, letting Hermione lead him away.

"What are you staring at?" he asked snidely as they waded through the crowd. They were walking into the Leaky Cauldron when he realized that his wand was missing. That red-headed idiot still had his…

"My wand!"

"It's right here," Hermione said soothingly, handing the familiar ebony wood to him.

"How do you have it? Did you….?"

"I was afraid you would hurt him," she answered.

"You were worried for him?" he said through gritted teeth. His hands gripped his wand convulsively.

"I was worried you would be hauled off to Azkaban for killing a man," she said exasperated.

"What did he say to you?" he demanded. They stepped into the fireplace, and before she could answer, he had thrown the Floo powder and yelled out their destination.

"More of the same. I told him to shove off, or at least was in the process when you barreled up," she continued as they arrived in the dungeons. "Now sit down, take a breath, and relax," she ordered him.

He sat. Still seething, he saw red as he contemplated the afternoon. If that sneaky, conniving, little prick had tried to convince Hermione that she loved him and not Severus even after being threatened with loss of his life, then who was to say he didn't have the guts to try and Obliviate her in order to get what he wanted. But as much as he wanted to kill him, Hermione was right. Doing so would only land him in jail and leave her alone.

"Here, I brought you some mint tea," she said, coming back into the room and placing a mug on the table next to his chair. He grunted, not taking his eyes from the fire. He expected to hear her move away, maybe towards the bedroom, maybe towards one of the other chairs, but she stayed standing next to where he sat.

"Are you sure everything is all right?" she asked tentatively. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her unceremoniously down onto his lap.

"No, everything is not alright," he snarled. How could she even ask that? She still couldn't remember being married to him, Percy Weasley had attempted again to steal her away, he was facing possible charges for attacking him in the street, and she wanted to know if he was okay? He hadn't been okay for quite some time now. He wanted his old life back, when everything was all right. Not giving her a chance to respond, he kissed her fiercely, taking every frustration he had out on her mouth. He pulled away, leaving her struggling for breath.

"Gently," she admonished, her eyes closed and her forehead resting against his.

"I don't want that worthless twit anywhere near you," he growled. Her fingers brushed against his face, tracing his cheekbones, his nose, and then his lips. Her mouth soon followed the path her fingers had traced, her eyelashes tickling his face. He sat motionless while she teased him with tenderness.

"I know," she said, pecking him lightly at the corners of his mouth. "I don't want to be around him either," she said, finally kissing him full on the lips. Where his kiss had been rough and demanding, hers was gentle and calming. Combined with her reassurance that she didn't want Percy, it calmed the fiery monster in his chest, at least for the moment.

She pulled away, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. He regretted being rough with her earlier. She deserved better, and he was lucky he hadn't frightened her away at this tenuous stage of rebuilding their relationship. But he should know better by now that she was made of heartier stuff than that.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Know exactly what to do to calm me down?"

"I think it's the tea," she answered.

"I haven't drunk the tea. Would prefer something stronger actually."

"Oh, then it's a woman's instinct, I suppose."

"Not because you remembered?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "I wish I did, but no."

"Not even the smallest thing?"

"No, nothing. Tell me more about what happened after the trial," she said. Changing the topic, he noticed. He nodded and started.

Hermione's idea of celebrating was a couple of drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. Before long, however, people disappointed with the Wizengamot's ruling to let him go and who were a ways into their cups to the point to venture to tell him so drove the lone two celebrants back to his rooms at Hogwarts.

"I will miss these rooms," Hermione said, sweeping her arms in a dramatic manner. Severus had hoped to return here alone, but she hadn't taken the hint and, being grateful as he was, he was somewhat reluctant to throw her out. At least that was what he told himself.

She wandered around the room, stopping at his bookshelf. "Your library is grossly under stocked, Snape," she remarked.

"Good thing then that the school library is only steps away," he said, joining her by the shelves.

"Three floors is not 'steps away'," she argued. He didn't deign to answer. He didn't live in the library like she did. If he was anywhere, it was in his lab.

"I never would have thought you were a romantic," she murmured, looking up at him with bright eyes. He had no idea what she was talking about. Some of these books were left over by the last Head of Slytherin, but he didn't have time to wonder because in the next moment she was pressing her lips to his.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, grabbing her by the arms and throwing her up against the shelves.

"I-I was kissing you."

"Why?" he demanded. "So you can humiliate me. Will you go back to your idiotic friends and tell them how awful I am at it? Will you laugh at the poor sodding professor seduced by his former student?" he spat at her, tiny bits of spittle landing on her nose.

"No! Not that, never that," she protested, struggling against his tight hold. "Please, you're hurting me."

"Not until you explain yourself."

"I—I wanted to kiss you, that's all. I've wanted to kiss you for some time now. You didn't push me away so I thought...," she stuttered.

"I have done nothing but push you away, you stupid girl, but you can't take a hint!" She looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes but he could see that they were wet with tears.

"I'm sorry. I—I won't bother you anymore. I'll leave you alone."

"Look at me," he ordered her. She raised her head. He didn't have to look long to see that she was telling the truth, the attraction and respect she had for him that had slowly blossomed into something more and the obvious hurt he cause with his harsh rejection. It would be evident to even someone who wasn't a Legilimens. "What if I don't want you to leave me alone?" he asked, his voice softer. Her eyes sparked with sudden hope.

"You mean that?" she asked just to be sure this time. He nodded, loosening his grip on her. "Then you should kiss me."

So he did.

"You would be difficult," she said when he stopped.

"Of course I would."

"I mean here is a beautiful, young, intelligent woman kissing you and you complain about it."

"You forgot irritating," he grumbled.

"At least you saw reason eventually," she said with a giggle.

"Reason had nothing to do with it," he said, pecking her on the cheek.

"No, I suppose not." She kissed him full on the mouth. "I'm going to go read in bed," she said, pulling away finally.

"I'll join you later." She nodded and padded off towards the bedroom.

&&&&&

He expected her to be in bed and asleep when he went into the bedroom, but she stood in front of the mirror in just her knickers, examining a large scar that ran across her stomach.

"It's from the war," he said quietly, approaching her. She looked up at him, surprised to see him standing there, and reached for her robe. He stopped her before she could put it on.

"No," he said, taking it from her hands and laying it aside. He stood behind her at the mirror, his black eyes meeting her brown ones in the mirror. Cautiously, he moved his arms around her, his hands tracing the scar. She stiffened a little, but said nothing.

"Dolohov failed in his second attempt to kill you," he whispered. Severus remembered watching as she clutched her side. The bastard might have succeeded except that Longbottom had thrown a timely curse that had distracted the Death Eater from finishing the job he had started. He remembered how self-conscious Hermione had been the first time she had shown him. He had had to reassure her that he still thought she was the most beautiful woman alive.

"It's evidence of your strength," he told her, as they lay on his couch. He had been kissing her into oblivion, but she had stopped his hand when it had reached down and tried to move her jumper up.

"And back here is a souvenir from Lucius Malfoy." He moved his hands from her front around to her back, tracing the jagged line that ran parallel to her spine. Goosebumps rose up at his touch, but she didn't look away. "You used to have others, but they have since disappeared—one of the benefits of living with a skilled potions maker." He let himself smirk at this, and she smiled shyly in return.

"But you do have one here," he bent down, and placed his hand on her left knee, "from a childhood accident. You fell from…"

"A tree," she whispered with him. He reverently pressed a kissed to the back of her knee, and then stood back up, trailing his fingers up the back of her thighs, across her bottom, and ending back at her shoulders.

"And another here," he said, his thumb circling a small oblong mark on her right shoulder blade, "a birthmark." She stifled a giggle as he leaned down to place a kiss there. That reminded him of something.

"And you're very ticklish here." He poked her in the ribs and she squealed. Trying to wiggle away, he held her tight, his hands on her upper arms.

"And here." He nuzzled her neck.

"Stop! Please stop!" she cried and laughed at the same time. He stilled, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. From there he gazed at her appearance in the mirror. She was beautiful.

"I look so different than what I remember," she said.

"You're a woman now, Hermione. You have the hips of a woman." He ran his hands up and down her hips to illustrate.

"You have the breasts of a woman," he said, his hands following. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he touched her there. She turned in his embrace, reaching up to kiss him. She was tentative, but responsive, a woman unsure of her sexuality and the power she held over him. He drank her in, kissing her tenderly, softly. He started when he felt her hands at his collar, fumbling with the buttons there.

"Do you want me to stop? Is this what you want?" he asked, pulling away to read her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red and swollen from his attentions.

"No…yes. What are you asking?" she said, resting her forehead against his.

"I don't want to push you, Hermione. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I don't know what I want. I don't know anything anymore. I have this huge weight on my chest, pressing in on me, and I feel like I'm drowning. But when I kiss you it changes, and I feel like I'm floating like a balloon, and I can forget. I can forget that I forget."

"You're mixing your metaphors," he said with a smirk. She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Shut up and kiss me." He didn't argue. He had missed her, missed her touches and her warmth, that feeling of peace that she instilled in him.

He kissed her softly while her hands returned to his buttons. He pulled her closer, his hands exploring her silken skin. Her fingers brushed lightly against his chest and she placed reverent kisses on each inch of newly exposed skin. It had been so long, he had worried this moment would never come, that he would never again get to hold her, that she would never touch him. And now that it was here, every synapse was doubly aware, firing and crackling at the lightest pressure. She was teasing him into oblivion.

"You have scars too," she said several minutes later after she had stripped away his outer robes and shirt. Tracing the jagged lines, she looked at him solemnly. He nodded, taking her hands in his, and kissing her knuckles.

"Too many to count."

"I don't remember. I'm sorry, I don't remember," she whispered desperately.

"You can learn again. Here," he took her hand and placed it over a scar that spanned his chest. "This is from a fight with Potter and Black." She rubbed her thumb over the puckered skin, taking his breath away. She met his eyes again. "And this one is from Lucius Malfoy in the final battle." He took her through several more, until it was more than he could stand. He kissed her mouth again, his need starting to overcome his gentleness. He might have balked at pushing her this far, but she returned him with equal parts fervor, her tongue moving against his in wanton abandon.

He maneuvered them back towards the bed, pulling her down on top of him. She sat straddling him, her hands moving over the planes of his chest, her mouth nipping at his neck. His hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs tracing small circles higher and higher. She shifted to give him better access, and this small movement almost proved to be his undoing.

"Are you sure," he asked again. He never wanted this sweet torture to end, but if meant that she would trust him then he would delay it a little longer.

"I need this. I need you," she whispered, her breath hot in his ear before she bit his lobe. He growled in response, flipping them over so that she lay underneath him. She shrieked in surprise, and her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," she answered, pulling him close and kissing him full on the mouth. He concentrated on showing her exactly how much he loved her. She didn't remember the last seven years and he wanted to make sure to leave her with a night she would never forget.

Worshipping her body, he kissed his way down her arm, pausing to pay special attention to the sensitive skin in the crook of her elbow. He traced the lines of her palm and tasted each finger. He caressed each breast, marveling at how they fit perfectly in his hands, how they stiffened under his mouth. Reaching down, he circled her knees, and then worked his way up stroking the soft skin of her thighs. Finally finding her center, he used his long fingers to tease and tickle her into a frenzy.

When she was finally quivering in anticipation, her hands fluttering over his back and neck, he slid into her welcoming warmth. It was like coming home after a long and arduous journey. The world fell away and the only thing he could see was Hermione, his Hermione. He repeated her name in whispered fragments as he moved against her. She met him in his movements, her legs coming up to wrap about him. She shuddered and cried out, and he followed her with his own release. Collapsing on top of her, he lay still for a moment, trying to collect himself. He rolled away reluctantly, grabbing her hand to reassure himself that she was still there, that he hadn't dreamt it all.

"Is it always like that?" she asked when she had the breath to.

"No," he said with a smirk. She frowned, a look of consternation. "Sometimes it's better." She smiled.

"What is it like?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Are you fishing for compliments?" she asked as she turned over and laid her head on his chest. He pushed her hair away from his nose, and then put his arms around her, pulling her close. She wiggled, snuggling closer until she was comfortable.

"It was wonderful," she said with a dreamy smile before he could answer her question.

"No, I meant what is it like not having your memories?"

"Oh that." She frowned. "It's strange. I still know things, things I don't remember learning. For example the other day, I looked at this storekeeper and asked if she had any Ashwinder eggs left. She told me no, but I could tell she was lying. I don't know how I knew, but I did. When I asked Harry about it, he told me it was Legilimency, but I have no memory of learning that."

"It's a natural byproduct of learning Occlumency," he told her. "You and Weasley were taught your last year of Hogwarts."

"By you?"

"No, by Dumbledore. I refused." She nodded her head, her pointy chin poking him in the chest.

"The other thing is that though my memories are gone, many of the emotions are still there." Did that mean…?

"The emotions?" he asked in what he hoped sounded like a nonchalant manner.

"For example, my brain told me that you were a heartless, mean, sarcastic bastard whom I should despise."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, especially since you gave me only an 'A' on my last Potions essay when it was most certainly 'O' material," she said, becoming saucy. He liked her best like this.

"I stand by my decision," he said firmly.

"Well luckily for you my heart told me that there might be more to you than your chilly exterior and sharp tongue."

"You told me once that you liked my sharp tongue," he teased.

"It is a talented tongue," she said, her voice soft and husky as she leaned up to kiss him.

"I think that it was never a matter of remembering that I loved you, only why I loved you," she said when she lay back finally. He propped himself up on his side and gazed down at her.

"So you love me?" he asked just to be sure that he had heard her correctly.

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"I love you, Severus Snape."

"Once more," he prompted. He would never tire of hearing these words from her.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too," he said, burying his head in her hair and pulling her close. She wiggled around to get comfortable, and they ended lying face to face, legs intertwined, her hands tracing patterns on his chest, while he held her by her waist.

"You know what convinced me that you did?" He shook his head, his ears pricking for this new and unsolicited information. He would be sure to remember to do it again in the future. Was it the picnic in the garden? Dancing with her in the living room? Blowing off his face in an attempt to get her to kiss him? Actually, he hoped it wasn't that one.

"When I first woke up in the infirmary and they told me that I was your wife, I was sure there had to be some mistake, because if there was anyone you hated more than Harry it was his friends. But then when we were together you were cordial and almost friendly, but I just couldn't work out in my head where we had fallen in love. Where was the passion or the intensity? It wasn't until Christmas that I started to believe there might be something more buried beneath those layers of yours."

Christmas? But Christmas had been a complete sodding disaster. He told her as much.

"I know it sounds funny, but I don't remember ever feeling so wanted than that day," she said, laughing at his bewildered expression. "First you gave me the most beautiful robes and necklace. No one ever gives me clothes and jewelry, all I ever get are books. And you told me I was lovely. Then you asked for my help with your potions. The day was going so nicely, and then….

"And then Percy," he finished for her, instilling as much bitterness in the name as he would James Potter or Sirius Black. He really didn't want to revisit this issue, not after this evening in Diagon Alley, not after having just made love to her, but if they had to he supposed there was no better place than in bed with her naked body pressed up against his. It made what normally would have been an ego breaking discussion a little less hard to bear.

"Yes, and then Percy. You were so angry at the thought that I had strayed. You threatened him, you yelled, I heard you throwing things around in your office, and Minerva told me later that you spent the night in your Pensieve. I didn't realize it at the time, but the reason I was so angry and upset was because I was scared I had ruined things in the same moment I realized how deeply you felt about me."

"So my little fit of temper convinced you that I cared?"

"If it had just been a fit of temper, I might not have realized how much passion lie behind your chilly exterior," she said, her hand moving south.

"So I should go on jealous rampages on a regular basis to prove my love to you," he said while he still had the ability to think coherently.

"I can think of better ways to show me," she said, her hand finally reaching its goal as she covered his mouth with hers. He growled his approval, pulling her even closer, intent on showing her just how much passion and deeply rooted love he truly had for her.