Many thanks to Nakhash Mekashefah for beta reading this fic! The time and effort she invests is greatly appreciated!

A/N:
This chapter contains more fluff than that with which Winnie The Pooh is stuffed.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter and his universe belong to J. K. Rowling. I am making no profit. Nor am I claiming creation or ownership of anything Harry Potter related. All of it is J. K. Rowling's, or Bloomsbury Books, or the WB's, or whomever's. It's not mine. Pity.

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Many thanks to Nakhash Mekashefah for beta reading this fic! The time and effort she invests is greatly appreciated!
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A/N:
This chapter contains more fluff than that with which Winnie The Pooh is stuffed.

Two months had passed since the birth of Senua Snape. During the entire two months, there had been a steady stream of visitors to Snape-on-Westray. Nicoleta Snape, or Summer as she liked to be called, was one of their frequent guests. During today's early morning visit, she'd announced that she had purchased a small property 'just a stone's throw away from Snape-on-Westray'. She'd settled in, explaining that she had taken leave from her position as head of The Salem Witches' Institute, in order to be close-by... to help with the baby'. Severus was utterly furious. An argument had ensued, culminating with him storming off and virtually sequestering himself in his lab.

Severus sat in the underground portion of his home, in the potions lab. He absently stirred an innocuous concoction. He wasn't down there to brew a potion. He was sulking. He was brooding. All he wanted was to be alone with his wife... The more he thought, the more he realised just how much he wanted to reacquaint himself with Hermione's body, scent, taste... The more his mind wandered down this path, the more he became awash in self-deprecation. He cared for Hermione more than life itself, but at this moment, his brain was fogged by his lust for her. His self-deprecation receded as he bitterly remembered what he had just learnt. He had learnt that his wife was intentionally withholding herself from him physically. He had pushed that discovery aside to concentrate on helping with the baby and seeing to the myriad of things that needed to be done to keep their lives on track. Here, now, he had time to think, and think he did.

The previous day he had gone to see Hermione's midwife. That meeting was prompted by a discussion he had been forced into with Arthur Weasley. Arthur mentioned in passing that he 'must be relieved to be enjoying Hermione's charms once again'. He was appalled by Arthur's presumptuousness, but then he became concerned. He subtly questioned the man and discovered that Hermione's body should have been sufficiently healed almost a month ago. He, being the quintessential pessimist, was sure that something dreadful was wrong with wife.

He had left that discussion with Arthur filled with a building sense of dread and panic. He'd flown to the office of Hermione's midwife. After intimidating and terrifying her secretary, the midwife had welcomed him into her office and answered his questions. She had told him that Hermione was completely well. That Hermione had been able to resume relations with him for weeks, now. He had asked if Hermione knew. The midwife laughed outright, while assuring him that she had told Hermione that particular detail during Hermione's final examination.

So here he sat, wondering what it was that 'had brought Hermione to her senses'. Wondering when she had realised, like everyone else that he had ever known, that physical closeness with him was repugnant. He was surprised she had ever been attracted to him. It was not a surprise to now discover she was not. He thought some more and realised that wasn't quite right. Hermione still got close to him. She kissed him; she wanted him to hold her; she cuddled up to him in bed... It would seem it was the act of sexual intimacy that she was avoiding, rather than all physical closeness to him. He spent most of the morning pondering that point: if she wasn't repulsed by him, then what was it that was making her keep herself from him? She had wanted him before. She had been sexually voracious in their courtship and early marriage, and she had been insatiable during her pregnancy. Even after the birth of their child, when she had been torn apart and exhausted, she had tried to engage him in sensual encounters that would bring him satisfaction. He had declined. He had no desire to take sexual gratification from her when she was unable to receive in kind. He wondered if this had put her off. He honestly couldn't understand it. He finally decided to wait and see what she would do.

Severus silently closed the door behind him and made his way stealthily to the sitting room. He was greeted by the sight of Hermione feeding Senua. He had heard that some first-time fathers experienced jealousy. He couldn't understand that; he felt nothing but a deep sense of pride and protectiveness when he saw Hermione caring for his child. Perhaps it was because he had been secluded, living the life of a spy for so many years. Perhaps it was because of the rejections he'd suffered in his youth, which led him to believe that he would spend his life in solitude, utterly bereft of the typical and simple pleasures of friends and family, the experiences that he saw the wizards around him so callously take for granted. Whatever the reason, jealously was the furthest thing from what this sight engendered in him. He felt abounding gratitude and awe as he drank in the vision before him: the curve of Hermione's throat and shoulder beneath her softly upswept hair; the peaches and cream of her skin; and the gentle way she caressed their daughter's head as she fed her. A wave of self-loathing, borne of guilt over his recent thoughts, surfaced inside Severus. He wondered how he could have considered tainting something so sacred with his baser urges. He shook the unwanted thoughts away and made his way to his wife and child. He knelt beside them and reached out a long finger to stroke his daughter's pale cheek. He looked up into Hermione's face. She hadn't looked up from the baby.

"I -" he began, only to be cut off by Hermione.

"It's OK, Severus. I'm not so sure I want your cousin that close-by, either. We've had so many people in and out of here," she sighed wearily, "it's almost as if we're married to a mob rather than each other."

"Indeed," he agreed softly.

"Severus," she began tentatively, "I'd like to spend some time alone."

"I understand," he said tonelessly, as he schooled his features into a mask of impassivity.

Hermione shook her head in slight exasperation at his assumption. "No, Severus," she said, "I would like to spend some time alone with you. There are some things we need to discuss."

Severus felt his heart plummet into his feet and then rise up to lodge in his throat. "Of course," he responded, giving no indication of the emotions warring within him.

Severus and Hermione Snape stood in their foyer, before their Floo connection. During the last few days, the Snapes' recurrent visitors were pressed into service. Every guest suite at Snape-on-Westray was now full. Molly and Arthur Weasley were in one of the two second-floor guest suites, while the suites on the first floor hosted Harry, Tonks, Minerva, and Summer.

"We could bring her," Hermione mumbled, as she cuddled her sleeping daughter close.

Severus laid his large hand on the downy head that was nestled in the crook of Hermione's neck. His "If you wish..." was lost amongst the resounding "Nos!" that came from their guests.

Molly Weasley took the baby from Hermione and said sternly, "She'll be fine. Really! I've never heard of one tiny baby being watched by six people before. It's only one night; you won't even have time to miss her."

"Now, get going, you two," Remus added with a smile, as Ginny pushed Hermione into the massive fireplace.

They arrived in the impressive lobby of a new hotel in Hogsmeade. It was a completely hidden destination. Only those witches and wizards who were invited to partake of the facilities could find or see the establishment. Hermione had received an invitation when she was lauded for her part in the creation of the Cruciatus Reversal Potion. She had never mentioned it to Severus. She wanted to keep it as a surprise, perhaps for their anniversary... However, she'd decided she needed all the help she could get right now. She had to talk to him, and it wasn't going to be an easy discussion.

The hotel was built just after the fall of Voldemort. It worked somewhat along the lines of the Room of Requirement. Severus was completely unaware of the special abilities of the hotel, as this stay was geared to Hermione. Severus merely thought that they were spending a weekend in a mundane, if posh, hotel. The entire building and grounds would cater to Hermione's requirements, and that was one of them: that Severus not realise that her requirements were being met in such a way.

She suppressed a giggle as she remembered one of her mother's old programmes. She almost expected a man dressed in white to come forward with a drink, toast them, and say: "I am Mr. Roarke, your host...welcome to Fantasy Island!"

Instead, Hermione and Severus were met by a discreet employee of the hotel who was garbed in tasteful dress robes. They were taken to a suite on the top floor. Before Hermione could thank him, their escort had discretely withdrawn.

Hermione and Severus walked into their suite; it was actually one very spacious room. To the right was an impressive library. Situated comfortably in front of the massive shelves of books were two deep-brown upholstered leather armchairs. Next to these was a matching sofa in front of an expansive black marble fireplace. Tables made of a wood so dark that they seemed to be a mix of rich brown and black were scattered in convenient places. Most were bare. However, one held two ancient tomes under glass: one on the Dark Arts and one on Potions; another held a sumptuous arrangement of comestibles ranging from Beluga caviar and foie gras, to artisan cheeses and meats; while a third bar-shaped table boasted a wide variety of wines, as well as cognac, and various other liquors.

Leading from this relaxing space to the 'bedroom' portion of the room was a dining table in co-ordinating woods and leathers. The sleeping side of the room held a massive bed, night tables, and armoires. The simple masculine theme was carried throughout in the dark rich woods and fabrics.

Finally, the bath could be seen through open doors off the bedroom portion of the room. It was done entirely in black marble with gold accents, and its style was simple and elegant.

Severus, who had expected the typical florals and fresh fruits, was speechless as he inhaled the scent of leather and books.

Hermione smiled to herself at his reaction. This was what she had wanted from her 'Hotel of Requirement': something that would please Severus's senses. Draw him out. She smiled to herself as she thought smugly: 'disarm him.' She moved into the room and seated herself in one of the armchairs.

Severus followed suit. He observed Hermione sitting primly with her hands folded in her lap. His eyes swept over her form, from her heavy robes to the starched high-necked blouse she wore under a thick full jacket, on down to the tops of her boots that barely peeped out from under the heavy layers of her skirts. His eyes finally came to rest on her hands, held neatly in her lap, with double-sleeves that ended mid-hand. He realised that her clothing style had changed since the birth of their child. On a routine basis, he had seen no more of her skin than from mid-hand to finger tip and chin to hairline. It was only when she fed Senua that he got a glimpse of her neck or shoulder. She had even taken to sleeping in long-sleeved, high-necked concoctions that swept the floor. With socks. Thick woollen socks. Realising that she was speaking, he looked at her face.

Hermione spoke to her hands, not meeting Severus's eyes. "...if that's acceptable to you?" she finished.

"Anything you wish, Hermione," he said, wondering what he had agreed to while his mind wandered.

"I'll fix you a plate, then, shall I?" she said demurely.

"Certainly," Severus answered.

Hermione filled a plate for Severus and brought him a glass of perfectly paired wine. He accepted the plate and glass.

Before he could ask why she hadn't fixed one for herself, she spoke, peeking at him from beneath lowered lashes. "I'll just freshen up." Before he could answer, she made a hasty retreat to the bath.

When Hermione returned from the bath, she found, to her delight, that Severus had emptied his plate and glass and was engrossed in a book.

"It's chilly, I'll just light a fire," she said in an even tone.

Severus glanced up and wondered how in Merlin's name the woman could be cold. 'She's wearing more layers now than she was earlier,' his irreverent mind noted with disdain.

She lit a fire and settled in the chair opposite with a book. They read in peace for an hour when Hermione spoke into the silence. "Severus, I think we should talk."

He had been waiting for this. He lowered his book with a cold dread spreading through his veins. He looked at his wife and he knew. He knew she was going to ask for a chaste marriage... or worse. Chaste he could do; he could visit the working-witches in Knockturn Alley. No, he realised that even in a chaste marriage that would be a betrayal. He would merely become accustomed to his own hand. It had not been that long since he was forced to resort to such, on the rare occasion when his self-control snapped... when he was young and his body was suffused with hormones. Surely, it had only been a few years... Yes, he could do that. He would do whatever it took. What he didn't know was what he would do if her 'talk' involved something even worse.

Severus looked into Hermione's eyes and gave no indication of his fear.

She blushed under his scrutiny and lowered her eyes. "Um," she stammered, "it's a bit warm now, isn't it?" she asked, in what Severus saw as an obvious attempt at stalling.

"Quite," he agreed smoothly.

He continued to watch as she shrugged off her heavy shawl, and she glanced up before tentatively removing her outer robes. Now she looked right at Severus and blushed a deeper rouge. "I just can't seem to think; it's oppressive in here," she said sheepishly.

His gaze became transfixed as she slowly began to unbutton her jacket. She worked one button open, and then trailed her hands down to the next. His breath hitched as she moved slowly down to the next, and the next, gradually revealing a glimpse of her starched white blouse. His breathing sped up as she finished the buttons and began to peel the jacket off. She drew it open slowly, almost caressingly, over her breasts and slid it down her arms. He forgot to breathe. She carefully placed it on the floor beside her chair.

"I thought you were warm, as well?" she asked.

Severus nodded stiffly and hastily removed his outer robes. When he looked at Hermione again, she was standing.

"Would you like a drink while we talk?" she asked. She didn't wait for an answer; she just poured him a drink. When she handed it to him, her cotton-covered breast brushed his arm. Even through all her layers and his, he almost moaned at the contact.

Hermione returned to her seat across from him and said, "I think my feet could use a rest, too." She reached down and lifted her skirt. All Severus saw was her matronly ankle boots as she deftly undid them and slipped them off. He missed her next words as he stared transfixed at her silk stocking-clad feet. He assumed she had mentioned his feet because, before he knew it, she was kneeling in front of him removing his boots and socks.

When he was barefoot, she looked shyly up at him from her position on the floor at his feet. She smiled and unbuttoned the sleeves of her blouse. At his arched eyebrow, she explained, "I just can't seem to get comfortable. I should never have lit such a fire."

Her words failed to penetrate his brain. All he could think of was her tiny hands as they opened the top buttons of her blouse. From his angle above her, he could clearly glimpse her ample cleavage. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped he wasn't drooling. He felt deserted when she left her position, kneeling at his feet, to return to her own chair. He saw her luscious mouth speaking, but he had no idea what she was saying. All he could hear was the rushing of the blood in his ears as she reached up and took the pins out of her hair. Her tight bun fell down in soft waves as she shook her hair out. He caught the words "restrictive" and "stockings". Hermione stood and placed one dainty foot on the arm of the chair she had been sitting in. Her hands disappeared up under her skirts. It was obvious from her movements that she was moving her hands slowly up her leg to the top of her stocking. Then it became clear that she was rolling the silk down her leg. As her foot was bared, all higher brain functions ceased for Severus Snape. She made the same slow work of her other stocking and, finally, she withdrew her garter.

She saw the dazed look on her wizard's face and dropped all pretence. She waved her hand and slow, sensual music began to play. She unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way and peeled it off, dropping it at Severus's feet. She swayed before Severus, wearing a scant black silk and lace chemise that was tucked into her skirts. His mouth dropped open as her hands moved to the clasp of her outer skirt. She opened the clasp and let the skirt fall to the floor, revealing a black satin petticoat. She stepped out of the circle of her discarded skirt and kicked it away. Still in rhythm with the pulsing beat, she moved, running her hands over her arms up to her throat and down to the tops of her breasts that peaked out of her chemise. She danced around behind Severus's chair and, when she came into sight again, her petticoat was gone. She was mesmerising as she moved to the music before him. She ran her hands around her body, drawing her fingers slowly down the silk of her chemise to its lace hem that fell just below her knees. Then she skimmed her hands up under her chemise, raising the sides and back slightly as she shimmied, and black lace knickers fell down to land gracefully at her feet. She danced out of the knickers, picking them up and swaying to the music as her body became suffused with a deep blush.

Severus finally managed to speak. When he did, the one word came out like a strangled prayer: "Hermione."

That was what she has been waiting for. She climbed into his lap and sat facing him, one leg on either side of his thighs. She still swayed to the music, moving him with her. She rubbed herself on the wool of his frock coat and trousers and whispered in his ear, "Severus, I need to talk to you. That's why we're here. I need to tell you something. I need you to understand." She pulled back and looked into his confused eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, in a voice that was way too rough to be his own.

"Severus, I want you," she whispered.

"What?"

"I want you. That's what I needed to tell you, what I needed to talk to you about. You don't know what it does to me to sleep next to you and not touch you. I burn for you, Severus. Please, please..."

"Hermione..."

"Severus, please. I've missed your touch so much. Severus, please..." she leaned in and breathed into his ear, "please touch me, Severus."

Severus's brain finally comprehended what was happening. He realised that Hermione had brought him here to seduce him. He needed no more encouragement. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her gently on her back. She fell to the bed with her arms curved over her head and her legs slightly open. Severus leaned in over her and looked into her eyes. He saw her love for him, and her desire. His gaze heated and he lowered his lips to hers.

Hermione lay in a blissful puddle on top of the duvet. Not one part of her body remained uncaressed. Every inch of her person had been touched, kissed, and worshipped by Severus Snape. Their passion had known no bounds. They had fulfilled each other in every way possible, again and again. She turned her head and found him gazing at her. He looked pleased. She nestled her face in his neck, and he wrapped his arm around her. As he pulled her to him, they fell together into a sated sleep.

"Good morning." She smiled.

"Good morning, indeed," he intoned. He took her lips with his, drawing her into a kiss.

As the kiss intensified and deepened, it felt as though her very being was tearing itself from her body in its quest to join with his. It was good. So good. She was lost in the dizzying sensations of being overwhelmed by Severus Snape.

Reluctantly, he withdrew from their kiss. He brushed the hair from her face. "We need to get dressed. As much as I'm sure she's been doted upon, Senua must be missing you. I'm sure her hunger has been met; however, magic is no substitute for her real mother," he said sagely.

"I know." Hermione smiled up into the black depths of Severus's eyes.

"Allow me," he said as he slipped from the bed. Before Hermione's confused gaze could discern his intent, he returned and knelt by her legs. "Allow me to robe you, as you disrobed for me," he murmured. He caressed her foot, then looked up at her. His gaze was hungry and piercing at the same time. "However, next time you strip for me, make sure you finish the job properly." He smirked. His deep voice took on an even more sensual quality as he expounded, "I prefer you completely naked." He said no more as he began to put her boots on her feet. Not the boots she had worn the day before, and throughout her pregnancy, but the boots he had given her the day she had received her dagger and seal.

"Severus," she said in a voice that betrayed her mortification, "those won't fit me."

"Of course, they will," he countered.

"No, they won't," she whispered.

He looked up at her red face and explained: "I had them altered. They will fit you."

"It's no wonder you aren't attracted to me anymore, Severus. You -"

"Not attracted to you?"

"Yes, you made that clear not long after Senua was born. I'd hoped you were just ... waiting. Although, for what I couldn't fathom. Now I understand. You simply don't want me."

Her words echoed in his head; it was not like Hermione to be insecure. He knew he had to handle this carefully.

Hermione tried to squirm out of his hands but he held her firmly by the ankles from where he was crouched by her legs.

"Merlin's bones, woman," he exclaimed, as he placed a kiss to the back of her knee. He mumbled indistinct appreciation as he trailed fervent kisses up the inside of her leg. He burrowed his face into the lavish flesh of her inner thigh but she understood his words, nonetheless. "Your thighs are like silk, so soft..." he trailed off, as he kissed his way up over the generous curve of her stomach. He ran his hands up and down her bountiful hips. "Your curves are so sweet, so enticing." He ran his hands smoothly up to her breasts and deftly handled them. Looking into her face, he breathed, "Your breasts are exquisite, so heavy, so full." His hands roved to her arms and he gently pushed them above her head. He traced her upper arms and exhaled in satisfaction. He kissed across her shoulder and up her throat. He brushed her mouth with his and spoke against her lips. "You are so round, so soft, so sensuous. I could spend eternity lost in your luscious, curvaceous body. You are a Goddess, Hermione, full and graceful." He pulled back and looked sincerely into her eyes. "You are voluptuous. Nothing could be more attractive to me. You are a Goddess."

Hermione looked at him sceptically. "Then why did you reject me?"

"Reject you?" he sneered. "I never rejected you. I merely wished to wait for your readiness." He looked intently at her. "I know of what you speak. I could have taken your offer; I most assuredly appreciated the thought. You are so open, so giving. You would have given me release; yet, I preferred to wait for more than simple release." He took her face in his hands to impress his point. "I derive pleasure from your pleasure, as well. It makes everything much... more. I was willing to wait for you, for us."

"But, I'm not as I was when you first desired me," she whispered.

Do not mistake me: I desired you then, and I desire you now. I would desire you if you looked like Alastor Moody. It is the sum of you that I desire, not just your physical beauty." He put his hand on her mouth to silence her interruption. "I desire you more with each passing day, My Love. I desire all that is you: your brilliant mind; your soft heart; your very soul; as well as your beautiful body."

Summer bustled into the Three Broomsticks. Hermione rushed over to meet her. She reached out and took her baby daughter from Summer's arms. "I'm so glad you could come," she said, as she led Summer to a table where Severus sat reading the Daily Prophet, and snorting derisively. The women sat and they all ate a satisfying, if very late, breakfast. When the food was gone and the three sat sipping their tea, they made plans for the afternoon. Or rather, Severus made their plans for them.

"Nicoleta," Severus began imperiously, "if you would be so kind as to accompany my wife to Gladrags - "

"Oh," Summer interrupted, "are you clothes shopping, Hermione?"

"At Severus's insistence," Hermione groused to his American cousin. "My old clothes would have fit again! I had planned to lose a stone - well, three stone, truth be told - but Severus -"

"Oh ho!" Summer exclaimed. "No need to explain. Severus always has liked his women soft. It's a good thing we're cousins, eh?" Severus's corpulent cousin teased.

Severus glowered, not deigning to rise to Summer's bait.

"Never mind that he grew up in the seventies," Summer continued, "Sevvie always has loved bountiful women. He never could muster himself for stick women; he has always preferred women with curves. Don't fret, Hermione, dear, in a few years - or maybe after having a couple more babies - you'll get there."

"Nicoleta," Severus hissed, "my wife is perfect as she is, she need not change in any way!" Severus turned to face Hermione, his tone turning to one of quiet command. "You will replace everything. I cannot abide the things you have been wearing of late. You will not seek to hide yourself from me. You will return to dressing as you did before Senua was born."

Hermione, shocked by her husband's words, merely nodded mutely.

Summer smirked to herself, happy in the knowledge that she could still manipulate Severus Snape. She was sure she had made him say exactly what his little wife needed to hear. "Well, then, should we get moving?"

"I shall walk with you as far as the Post Office," Severus informed them.

They rose and, with a majestic billow of Severus's black robes, he ushered the ladies into the street.

None of them had noticed the cloaked figure intently listening and watching them. The same figure that was now following them.