"Huh? How? OH – that, you got yourself a virgin wife, there Severus, unlike me, although I kinda enjoy the experienced witch if you know what I mean." Draco said with a wink.

The shitith hath hitith the fan.

"Draco, how could you?" Hermione, who had been under the impression that only Ginny knew how Malfoy Enterprises acquired the unicorn parts. Embarrassment swept over her, this was exactly the way she wanted her new husband to find out that somehow she had made it to her twenties and was still a virgin. She shifted the baby and fled to her room.

"DRACO – YOU SODDING BASTARD!" yelled Ginny, scooping up Lyra. "You SWORE to me you would never mention that in front of her!"

Severus watched the flame haired Malfoy follow her best friend, after placing the now wailing infant in her husband's arms.

"And I'm NOT a SLUT!" she hollered, before slamming the door behind her.

Ginny took a deep breath and strained her eyes in the dimly lit room.

"Lumos," she uttered, lighting the scones on the wall. Hermione lay on the bed, her back to her friend, who began casting silencing charms on the door.

"Now whose warding us in?" sniffled Hermione.

"Your attempt at humor is lousy at best."

"Thanks for the encouragement, Gin."

Ginny climbed up on the bed and knelt behind her friend.

"Sit up and lets talk."

"I don't want to."

Sighing, Ginny began pulling out the hairpins that were keeping Hermione's loose bun in place. She levitated the pile into the bathroom to sit on the counter and used accio for a brush, fanning her best friend's hair over her pillow.

"Mione, it's not as bad as it seems."

"Yes it is," came the muffled voice from the pillow.

"So he found out, he was bound to find out sooner or later."

"Yeah, but from ME, not from DRACO!"

"Yes, my husband is a bloody freaking prat, and believe me I will kill him when we get home, slowly and painfully." Ginny agreed, "but maybe this was is better, at least now it's out in the open and you two can talk about it."

"Oh, God, no! I can't discuss it with him now!" Hermione sat upright, mortified.

"Hermione," Ginny said gently, "you do realize you're going to eventually have to sex with him."

"Yes," she glared, "I do realize I'm going to have sex with him someday, but now he knows I've waited, and it's…it's embarrassing Ginny!"

"At least your husband didn't call you a slut."

"Gin, you know that's not what Draco meant."

"So I had sex once or twice before we were married."

Hermione attempted to hide an evil grin. "Once or twice?"

"Okay! So I slept with a couple of guys a couple of times."

"Gin…"

"Fine, I was a slut."

"Ginny, you just experienced more than the rest of us, except for Draco. He wasn't exactly a saint. You only had three boyfriends, assuming you count the Chudley Cannons as one."

"Yeah, he's just jealous that I was Harry's first, and I did not sleep with the entire team. Just the Seeker and a Chaser."

"And a Beater and a Keeper."

"Grossly overrated rumor."

"Ginny – you still get invites to their team parties."

"I'm good at what I do, and now I do it only with Draco."

"What if I'm not?"

"Not what?"

"Good."

"Hermione Jane Granger Snape – have you LOOKED at your husband? The simple fact that you have a desire to sleep with that man has got to be a turn on for him. I can't imagine he's had women lining up to screw him."

"GINNY! That's awful!"

"It's the truth! When was the last time you think he had a woman's mouth on his – "

Hermione's hand clamped over Ginny's mouth muffling the last word.

"Ginny….OW!" She jerked her hand back. "You BIT me you damn ferret!"

"Don't put your hand where it doesn't belong," she countered smugly.

"I don't know if I can do that."

"What? Give him a blow?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, " I mean, start with maybe actually kissing him first, but it's not that hard once you figure out how to do it. And a very handy trick for a woman to have, especially early in the morning when you want a favor."

"How did you learn?"

"Mione, we've had this conversation about a hundred times, and it always ends with you refusing to let Harry or Ron teach you."

"That's a moot point now."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not lending you Draco."

"Ginny, I don't want you husband."

"I know, he's an arse. Fooking prick. I'm so going to pummel him when we get home."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Sebastian having hopped up on the bed and curled between the two witches who were stroking him.

"Really, how do I make sure he's happy?"

"Please, Hermione, I know you've had to purchase a few books on this subject."

Her friend's blush confirmed Ginny's suspicions.

"Okay then, lets see what you got, and call Eakey."

Five minutes later found the two of them with a pile of books that Ginny was flipping through and Hermione peeling bananas that Ginny had requested.

"Bananas?"

"Well, I've never seen your husband, but lets start realistically."

"Oh…" said Hermione, really – if I'm the smartest witch of my generation I should have figured out why we needed bananas sooner.

"You definitely have a nice collection. Draco prefers the Kama Sutra, while Ernie always did enjoy Newzawi's Perfumed Garden – that ungiving jerk, and he wondered why we didn't last. Harry was oddly Tantric, I think it was his whole "oneness" thing."

"You're speaking another language."

"You HAVE read these..."

"Yes."

"You DO understand the basics..."

"I'm not worried if I can figure out HOW to do it, I just want to be GOOD at doing it."

"Okay then," sighed Ginny, "hand me a banana and follow along."

"LESS TEETH!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"Better me than your husband if you bite him!"

"This is hopeless…"

"Mione, don't you dare start crying. Just eat your banana, and relax. I promise, he's going to fall in love with you and the two of you will spend the rest of your life happy and having great sex."

"Really?" she sniffled.

"Really. Now, since I'm done practicing, and frankly just a bit turned on by the books you've forced me to read, I'm going to pop on home and screw my husband senseless," she explained, stacking the books and levitating them to the drawer in Hermione's bedside table.

Hermione let a small smile creep onto her face.

"Hand me your writing kit so I can send a howler, then go run yourself a tub of water and try to unwind. Use some of that lavender scented bubble bath from Canada that Malfoy Enterprises is about to begin distributing. I know I sent you a couple of bottles."

"You're the best," Hermione hugged her friend and slid off the bed to cross into her bath, shedding her clothes as she went.

"Okay, howler is done, I'm about to send it with your house owl," Ginny said, picking up Hermione's robes and hanging them in her wardrobe. "Do you like the smell?" She smiled at the huge tub of bubbles, with only Hermione's head peeking out the top.

"Love it, go home and wait for your husband."

"I AM sorry for him."

"Ginny, I don't blame you for the fact that you married a Slytherin who wanted to move things along quicker than they were moving and saw this as the perfect opportunity to force a confrontation."

Ginny smirked. "I knew you were the smartest witch of our generation for a reason."

"Go home, Ginny."

"Be careful and be strong."

"Same to you, Ginny."

The redhead crossed the bedroom and stopped at the door, removing the silencing wards and listened closely to conversation going on in the drawing room.

"You want children? Are you sure? Ginny and I always assumed that would be one of Hermione's challenges, I know she wanted kids, but you hate children."

"No, I hate idiots. Most children just happen to fall into that category. Somehow, I doubt any child that is half-Hermione would be an idiot."

"Or half-Severus."

"Or half-Severus," Severus whispered, almost as one whispers a wish on an eyelash.

Grinning a Slytherin grin – she tied the howler to Lear, the Snape owl, barely cracked the door, and apparated away.

She lay in the tub, mounds of bubbles floating atop the charmed to remain hot water. And she let her eyes close and mind drift.
He paced back and forth, between the bar and the door to her room.

What am I suppose to do? What does she want me to do? Why doesn't she come out? Why didn't Lady Malfoy tell me what to do? Why am I not pouring myself a firewhiskey?

I think, this is the emotion they normally call "caring".

I refuse to accept that.

You realize you're arguing with a voice in your head – your voice, so technically part of you already accepts it.

Bloody hell.

Knock on the door.

No.

This is ridiculous – open the door.

I don't know what to say.

You'll get to see her room.

Damn Slytherin.

Thank you.

Severus gave a cautious knock, and was surprised to find the door swing open a bit.

"Lady Snape?"

Getting no reply, he felt it was only prudent to go in and make sure she was okay. Stepping into the room, he stopped right inside the door in awe.

Weeks of thinking, debating, and scrutinizing his wife had given him a pretty good idea of what her room would look like. He had known Gryffindors for practically his entire life, and they were even worse about house pride than Slytherins. So he was prepared for the gaudy red and gold that he was certain would permeate the old nursery. Gryffindors were always obstinate people – demanding heavy fabrics that never looked right or flowed with the style of a room.

The sheer exquisiteness of this room stunned him into silence.

The wall to his left was covered in windows, with a set of French doors leading to a private balcony – she must have added that – the window coverings were light and gauzy, a deep black with tiny tassels along the top in deep cobalt and citrus.

The wall in front of him held a king sized four poster canopy bed, in a rich-dark stained oak. An onyx colored silk bedspread, slightly wrinkled, covered the entire bed. From where he stood he could see tiny beating wings from the hundreds of charmed blue and yellow embroidered dragonflies that fluttered as if about to take flight off the silk.

Four pillows enveloped with the same onyx silk fabric leaned against the headboard. The canopy was made of the same gauze as the window panels, tied back with ropes woven to match the tassels.

A table sat on either side of the bed, carved and stained to match the bed, he could see her wand lying on the right one, atop what he recognized to be a recently published potions text. The elaborate pattern was of wood and ivy, and obviously done by a master.

Light crystal scones hung above each table, and on the right wall – on either side of a huge wardrobe that bore the same complex carvings as the other wood pieces. He could see a beam of light coming through the half-open door next to the wardrobe. The other side of the wardrobe was home to a very comfortable-looking black chaise lounge, with a velvet cobalt throw.

Where did she find these superb antiques and how on earth did she afford them?

The wall that the door was on held a stone fireplace, much like the one in the drawing room and in the master bedroom. He could see a crystal bowl with floo powder on the mantle. A smirk threatened to appear on his face when he recognized the painting above the mantle to be of Hermione and that ugly orange half-Kneazle familiar she had when she was a student at Hogwarts.

A long, wide black fur rug ran the length of the room in front of the fireplace, over the inlaid wood floor. No telling what animal that once was. He had the suspicion it was a wedding present from Hagrid.

But the most stunning, impressive piece was the chest that stood at the foot of her bed. He moved closer and knelt down, running a long pale finger over the intricate design. The carving showed two majestic oaks, with deep roots that ran along the bottom. The branches of the trees stretched around the sides of the chest, each leaf carefully whittled as if a steady wind was forcing the mighty oaks apart.

Yet each tree had a single branch that was reaching towards the center, bearing a single, small leaf bud, trying to intertwine with the other bough and hold on. A small oval held the letters HGS, and it took him a moment to realize the chest was hers, which meant everything in the room was actually carved for her.

He rocked back on his heels and stared around.

It was beautiful.

The sight of one of the infernal pink slippers peeking out the corner under the bed brought him back to reality.

He was in her room. A room that was, undeniable, perfect for her – down to the ugly slipper and furball of a familiar that was butting his little head against Severus' hand and meowing.

"Sebastian? Come in here baby, mummy will scratch your ears."

With a courage far above what was required to approach the Dark Lord, Severus stood up and walked to the bathroom door, gently pushing it open.

Hermione raised her head out of the water, the bubbles still giving off that heavenly lavender fragrance and covering the surface. Have to remember to give Ginny the good news for their marketing department. She could hear Sebastian let out a meow, and called him.

"Sebastian? Come in here baby, mummy will scratch your ears."

Lazily lowering her arm over the side of the huge tub, she closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma. She had never been a huge fan of "girly" products, but found that bubble baths were relaxing, and was glad that Ginny had insisted she install the six extra faucets that were standard in Wizarding bathrooms. She heard the door creak open and waited for the head nudge that would come on her hand. And waited.

"Sebastian?" she asked, opening one eye. "Severus!"

Oh shite – he's in my bathroom – I've got no clothes on, just a pile of Malfoy bubbles. Damn Malfoys.

"Hermione," Severus said, in a very strangled manner.

She's got nothing on. She's in the tub, covered in water and bubbles. God, her hair is soaking wet and streaming down her back – she's sitting up!

Hermione leaned forward in surprise, before realizing that the bubbles might cover her while she was laying back, but would do her little good if she raised up much further out of the water.

Hastily, Severus turned around and muttered incoherent apologies, trying to leave and stumbling over his feet.

"Wait! Severus, stop!" Hermione let out a giggle.

"You're laughing at me."

"I'm sorry, I just don't think I've ever seen you apologize and blush before."

"I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay."

Admitting I care – hrm, not as painfully as I originally thought.

"Please, don't go. Just give me a minute."

Okay Ginny – wherever you are, wish me luck.

He kept his back to her, leaning against the doorframe. The gentle sloshing of the water turning wheels in his imaginative brain.

She standing up now, with water and bubbles sliding down her body. She's reaching for a towel, slowly drying off her legs and torso – bloody freaking Malfoys – Severus winced at his very obvious arousal, and thanked God for being a wizard who wore formal robes to dinner. He jumped when she laid a hand on his arm.

"Severus?"

He turned to look at her, wrapped in a huge blue fluffy towel, one tiny hand clutching it closed between her breasts, the other resting on his arm. He could see her knuckles going white, and felt the previously unknown emotion of tenderness well up inside him.

"You're scared."

"What?" she stuttered, am I that obvious?

"You don't have to be. We don't have to sleep together, ever."

"NO!" she let out, before regaining control of herself, "I mean, I WANT to sleep with you, I just – "

"It's not something you learn in a book, Hermione."

She forced herself to look into his eyes, steeling herself for pity and disappointment. This was the man who patented the sneer. Yet, he looked – almost human.

"Hermione, have you ever been intimate with a man besides Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?"

"Severus! I thought you understood, I've never even kissed them."

"I didn't mean sexually," he faltered a bit over his words, but quickly recovered. "I mean, have you ever been close to anyone besides your family?"

"The boys, Ginny and Draco, but that's all."

"Let me show you…please."

Where was the cruel, snarky, vindictive Hogwarts Potions Master that had frightened her for six years?

For a man who refused to beg even when under an Unforgivable, Severus allowed himself a brief moment of pleading. If he could just bend himself right now, he could reorder his entire life and gain the illusive prize of love.

Hell, saying please and thank you wasn't weak or UnSlytherin – how on earth did everyone think the Malfoys got everything they wanted? Backhanded tactics and good manners.

Her eyes betrayed her emotions – she never could have been a spy – trust for him and insecurity with herself flowed out of her.

"Show me."

"Where's your bathrobe?"

"I don't have one."

Severus looked at her.

"Are you a witch or aren't you?"

Ah – there's Professor Snarky.

Blushing, she walked to her wand and cast a transfiguration on her towel, transforming it into a robe, complete with the silver initials embroidered on a breast pocket.

"Feel free to do that to one of my wedding towels."

"Molly and Arthur," she said, answering his unspoken question.

He nodded, "I should have known."

She reached a hand up to her hair. Wet and limp – hah – just my luck that I go from ugly and scraggly to huge and bushy.

"Sit on the bed."

She did as he asked, watching him go into the bathroom. She was surprised when he returned with her hairbrush in one hand and unbuttoning his robes in the other.

She had seen him without the outer robe before, when he was deeply involved in a potion down in the lab, but otherwise he always in full Wizard regalia – she secretly suspected that was why he tended to turn into an ocelot outside, it was just to damn hot to wear that many clothes.

He dropped his outer and inner robe on the lounge and toeing off his shoes he sat down on the bed beside her. She watched in amazement as he moved to the center of her bed, leaning against the headboard.

Her brain observed, unattached, as she gazed at his hand patting the bed, coaxing her up and near him. She moved between his legs, and he guided her around, so she could see the fireplace.

Lavender will never bring the same images again, he thought, inhaling her scent. He sat up straight, reaching his hands around her head, he began murmuring an old chant, concentrating on the soft, silky strands of long brown hair that were untangling around his fingers.

She watched the fire dancing in the fireplace, casting long shadows about the room, she couldn't even remember calling the lights in the scones to dim. She couldn't think, just feel – his hands stroking her hair, running up the back of her neck and tracing the tops of her ears. His breath so close to her, words tumbling out and weaving into her skull, she felt drowsy, content – happy even.

Her hair, now dry and smooth, was twisted into a loose bun, and given another incantation to keep it in place. She let his arms snake under hers, drawing her back, close to him.

Her back pressed up against his chest, her legs curled to the side, dainty feet resting on his thigh, her head tucked under his chin. She felt his hands clasp together tightly, drawing strength from her silence, she tilted her head up to see him in the firelight.

"Sleep, my beautiful Lady Snape, sleep."

She lowered her head to his chest and drifted into peaceful slumber unlike any she had every experienced.

He held her as she slept, the fire dying slowly, soft streaks of light flickering over her body. Her legs, so smooth and pale, stretching out the bottom of her robe and ending at her perfect feet, connecting right her ankle, where he could see the silver anklet.

The writing was different.

Reaching down cautiously, so not to disturb Hermione, he lifted the charm and read the back.

"I pray you can give him the light he so richly deserves – love him Hermione as I love my wife, and redeem him for the world and for yourselves."

Carefully he laid the charm back on her ankle, and allowed himself to actually look at his wife. Strong and volatile, a student of the world – but unworldly and innocent, impulsive only when she really should be cautious, and cautious every other second and for everyone else. Stunning – perhaps not a classic beauty, but stunning to him, intelligent – beyond anyone else, perhaps even beyond himself. And his, his innocence to take.

I don't deserve her innocence.

The painfully cruel reality struck him hard, and he had to force it down.

Tomorrow, I'll deal with the consequences tomorrow. Tonight, she's mine.

He brushed a stray tendril behind her ear, and lowered his lips to her forehead, dropping a soft kiss on her brow, before relaxing back into the pillows, holding her, and allowing sleep to claim him.

Only Sebastian saw the wood carve the boughs a bit closer, and another leaf bud appear on the struggling branches.

A/N: Thank you, everyone who reads and reviews. This was a hard chapter to write, I've had her bedroom planned in my head since before I started this story - so trying to get it just right was difficult. Yes, this is not the "normal canon" Snape - allow me a bit of leeway, it's been almost six weeks for the guy and I, for one, really believe he's got a tender heart somewhere in his body (otherwise, I wouldn't write HG/SS fiction). I hope everyone enjoys!