A/N: Many thanks, again, to Drakien - without whom ya'll would be in a right pickle trying to read my writing!

The sunlight filtered through the sheer black curtains, casting a hazy glow on the room and its three occupants. Two still sleeping peacefully and one wide awake, thoughts brewing like his potions, volatile and impulsive. Severus, terrified to move his body and end this single perfect instant, allowed his eyes to study the witch in his arms.

His left arm had draped itself over her waist and was curled up to her chest, his hand clutched tightly by her left hand, her fingers intertwined with his. He couldn't see the binding ring she wore, but he could feel the band digging into his fingers, his claim on her – the one she didn't have yet on him.

He could see her hair was still curled into the bun, a few loose tendrils caressing her neck – long and perfectly colored, with a tiny brown freckle at the base.

He followed the lines of her body, memorizing the way breathed in her sleep – slow, steady, like a heartbeat – without a hint of a snore. He took in how her body seemed to mold perfectly into his own, how her legs bent just as his did, and how her feet were crossed at the ankles. As if in sync Hermione burrowed backwards, nuzzling her face into her pillow, and her Kneazle burrowed forward, digging into the space between Severus' thigh and calf, where his legs were bent.

Caught between the two slowly waking creatures, Severus begged whoever listened to such prayers for forgiveness and for an afterlife full of moments such as this.

Sebastian twitched his whiskers and then began his morning stretches, arching his back and contorting his limbs in a centuries old feline yoga.

Severus blinked slowly and watched as Hermione let go of his hand and began to stretch much like her familiar, arms in the air and back bent, elongating her legs, and wrinkling her nose in an almost comical impression of her feline.

Then he froze as she sat bolt upright in the bed, covers clutched to her chest.

"Oh, God, Severus, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep – thank you for the hair thing – oh, God, we're in bed together, I'm in my pajamas, you're in your pajamas…"

Damn…tight black shirt…

"Hermione?" Severus hid a smirk as her eyes traveled from his torso up to his eyes.

"Breakfast, do you want breakfast? Let me call Monly and get some scones, then work, we need to finish up the potions today and get them flooed back to Hogwarts," she babbled as she tried to disentangle herself from the covers and stand on the floor.

"Hermione," Severus repeated.

"Then we can start preparing for the visit from the Ministry woman about your wand, and not to mention the sheer amount of lesson plans I still have to do – "

"Hermione!" he said a bit louder.

"Yes?" she paused, finally breathing.

"Do you always babble when you get nervous?"

"I'm not nervous."

"Then what are you?"

"Surprised," seeing Severus' blank look, she continued. "I just didn't figure you would hang around after, you know…"

"I didn't think I would either," he said with a rueful grin, sitting up and crossing his legs.

Dear Merlin, he looks so young and untainted…and sexy…

"Why did you?"

A dark look crossed over his face when he recognized her anklet glinting in the morning sunlight. The memory of his late night vow rushed back to his mind, his mask firmly back in place, and Hermione sighed just a little on the inside.

You have to give this up, this life is not yours, she is not yours.

"Hermione, I'm not a nice person."

"No shit."

"Lady Snape!"

"Good Lord, Severus, I know you're not a nice person. That doesn't mean you're not a good person."

"That's debatable."

"Not to me."

They paused, staring at each other, each trying to read unreadable expressions. Severus relented first.

"Were they happy when you chose me?"

"They?"

"Potter, the Weasels, the Headmistress?"

"They only questioned me once, then never again."

Once? Did they just not care that much, or was her reasoning that good?

Slowly extracting himself from the bed, avoiding the black furball that had returned to dreamland, he crossed to the door, opening it and stepping aside.

"Shall we?" he asked, the scent of coffee wafting into the room.

She gave him a half-smile and followed the smell of breakfast into the drawing room.

They ate their breakfast quietly, trading sections of The Quibbler, Luna had given Hermione a free subscription and she kept it out of loyalty and for a bit of levity in her reading materials.

Hermione pondered in her heart the man she had bound herself to, staring at him surreptitiously over the top of the newspaper. When not in his stiff black robes, he seemed so much more real – less of the "scary bat" of the dungeons and more like a human, the man that lived in her dreams.

He was sitting on the settee and had his legs stretched out in front, crossed at the ankle, his shirt was fitted – that was a rather pleasant image burned into her brain – long black hair hanging down over his eyes. She could see his scowl, and drew comfort from the fact that she knew it was over the Quidditch scores, because her husband was a closet Puddlemere United fan, just like Dumbledore.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to picture a little girl, curled up next to her father, with curly raven hair, Severus' fingers idly running through his daughter's locks. His voice shook her out of her fantasy.

"Hermione, are you ready to work?"

She opened her eyes and smiled at the memory, "yes, just let me go get dressed."

Nodding, Severus stood to go to his own room, and prepare for the day.

The two had found a steady rhythm to working in Hermione's lab together. The morning was taken up with a few last minute additions to Madam Pomfrey's list. Hermione had deferred to Severus' expertise in such matters and they were finishing up a batch of Hangover Remedy for the Professors to use.

He hovered over the cauldrons, while she shuffled her furry pink feet in a haphazard manner, preparing ingredients at the next table. They usually worked in a companionable silence, save the occasionally burst of singing by Hermione when one of her favorite songs played through the velvet bag. It was just after one such song had finished when Beethoven's Opus 92 (7th Symphony in A Major) began.

Severus watched Hermione tap her slippers to what she believed to be the beat, and threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Do you even know how to dance?"

Hermione looked up in surprise.

"I can dance," she responded, "I do it all the time at weddings and bondings and the obligatory Ministry events."

"You can waltz?"

"Um… I don't dance often at the events, just generally when I'm forced to by Harry or Ron or Draco."

"Is that a yes or no?"

"A no," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "but I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"Come here," he answered, moving to the center of the lab.

She reluctantly left her ingredients and followed his lead, standing in front of him. He took one look at her feet and shook his head. Hermione grinned waved her wand at her feet transfiguring her slippers into an elegant pair of silver black heels.

"Better?"

"Yes."

Gathering his wife, Severus pulled her close and closed his eyes, allowing his feet to sweep across the floor, his arms gently leading her.

Sweet Heavens, she's a quick to learn this as anything. Full of grace…

"Hermione?" he whispered into her ear.

"Yes?" she answered, into his chest, as they spun around the room.

"Tell me about our bonding."

He almost fell when she stopped dead still.

Was it Gryffindor to ask such questions - or Slytherin to use Gryffindor tactics to ask such questions of a Gryffindor?

"Our bonding?"

"Yes, you said we were already bonded. Tell me what it was like."

Hermione backed away from his arms, sitting in one of the chairs.

"I didn't want a big ceremony," she said, her voice low and her head in her hands. "Just the smallest and simplest bonding possible."

She didn't speak again until she heard him sit down in the other chair.

"Minerva actually preformed the ritual, she blessed the rings and spoke the words. Draco stood in for you..." her voice faltered. "Ginny was my witness, Remus was yours…"

"Remus?"

"He said he understood being forced by Albus to return to a world he hated – and it was the least he could do for you. The only other people there were Harry, Ron, Molly, and Arthur. And Mr. Treed, who was there to make sure it was all legal and such under the Ministry's law. There were many who didn't want the ceremony to happen."

"Really?"

"You're not a nice person," she answered.

Severus could almost hear a smile in her voice.

"We held it at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement…" her voice trailed off.

"What did it look like?" he questioned softly.

"Like the chapel I use to go to in America. Almost entirely glass, with woods surrounding the building. It was beautiful," Hermione's voice caught and she gave a small sob.

"What did you wear?"

"Ginny and Molly wanted me in a witch-style wedding dress, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy a set, so I wore my silk dress black robes."

"I gather Minerva did not appreciate the subtle humor?"

"No, but the boys did. I think Draco asked if he should wear white, since at least one member of the wedding party should. Then he and Ginny got into an argument about white versus ivory, which led to an argument between Molly and Ginny about purity…"

"Can't say I'm sorry to have missed that. Although the thought of Mrs. Weasley, Lord and Lady Malfoy in the same room having that conversation would certainly have added excitement."

"Not the kind I envisioned on my wedding day as a little girl."

"What did you envision? Someone better looking? Younger? A hero?" Severus couldn't stop the bitterness from seeping into his words.

"No," Hermione answered, raising her head for the first time, eyes flashing. "I just envisioned a man who was actually there."

She's beautiful when she's angry...

"What do we have to do now?"

"When you're ready we call Mr. Treed and Minerva and finish your part of the ceremony. Then you put on the ring, and we're done."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I remain bound to you. You can't marry again, but you aren't physically bound to me. That will last for two years, before the binding magic will force itself upon you. Then it's done with. The binding magic seeps into your body, forcing itself into your own magic, intertwining and mixing until you're altered."

"Sounds unpleasant."

"You were the only ex-Deatheater redeemed without being present, everyone else received the binding voluntarily."

Right, every one else had a choice. Like you would have turned her down? I would have then, but now…

Hermione watched his inner debate in silence.

"How much time do I have left?"

"Enough. About a year."

"You've been married to me almost a year?"

"Technically, our anniversary is next week."

Severus absorbed the information in silence.

"Severus?"

"Let's bottle these potions and floo them to Hogwarts."

Pushing him is going to get me nowhere.

"I'll get the bottles," she rose from the chair and began filling out the phial labels.

Damn, I'm a greasy old bat who's not even finished getting used to being married, and it's already my anniversary?