A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I love the fact that so many of you care about my stories to the point that you take the time to address any negative reviews I get. It doesn't matter what you write - someone will dislike it - but it makes me feel so much better to envision this little army of supporters standing behind me. You guys are awesome.
One of those critical reviews, however, led me to defend the "political climate" of this story. As I mentioned earlier, this story stops following canon partway through 5th year, so it doesn't jive with JKR's plot developments. Since there was no battle at the Ministry and Voldemort was never exposed (revealing Malfoy's true allegiances to everyone), in my mind Dumbledore hasn't regained the sort of clout he does in canon. I alluded to Harry having gradually gained listeners, which is why Malfoy is making contingency plans, and so I imagine that Dumbledore would also be slowly regaining favor. And Hermione only has a stellar reputation where we the readers of HP are concerned. The public at large knows next to nothing besides what was published earlier in the Daily Prophet.
I hope that makes sense to those of you who are enjoying the story and to anyone who may be questioning just how "far-fetched" it is. Thanks again!
Chapter 10: And So The Battle Begins
Hermione huffed grumpily and glared at the closed bathroom door. She had stepped out of her room half an hour before and was just in time to see the door close behind Snape. Now that she had already dressed in her school uniform, had attempted to manage her hair, and had readied her school bag, she was growing impatient.
As was her bladder.
When another muscle contraction sent warning to the rest of her body, she whimpered slightly and shifted her weight onto the other foot.
"This is ridiculous!" she hissed. With a determined look on her face, she marched up to the door and pounded her fist against it. "Hurry up, please!"
A second later, the door was ripped open to reveal Snape's glowering face. His hair was damp from a shower, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, as was the buckle on the belt that was threaded through his black trousers. One cheek was still covered in shaving lather, and he held a razor in his hand. "What is your problem?"
The witch frowned at his snappish tone, and crossed her arms defiantly. "I have to use the bathroom."
"Can't it wait five bloody minutes?" he grumbled.
"In five minutes, it will be on your floor!" she barked, pointing to the ground. "I think that might violate your neat and orderly clause, now wouldn't it?"
Scowling, the man snatched a towel from the rack and pushed past her into the sitting room. "Be quick about it, then."
"You're one to talk," she muttered under her breath. "You take longer than Lavender does."
Before Severus had a chance to retort, she slammed the door and made a bee-line for the commode. After quickly relieving herself, she purposely took three times as long as normal to wash her hands, and then her face. And when she brushed her teeth, she took particular care in making sure that every single tooth received more attention that it probably deserved.
With a smirk on her face, Hermione wet her hands and ran them through her unruly hair. She held her curls up on one side of her head for a minute or so, and then again on the other side of her head. After gathering it into her hands to mimic tying it back, she sighed and then let it drop into place once more. Shaking it out, she shrugged and left the bathroom with her hair identical to how it had been going in.
Her disobedient glee, however, was dashed as soon as she noticed Snape sitting on the sofa, seeming clean-shaven and perfectly unaffected in his immaculately pressed robes. With a pout, she tugged on the hem of her skirt to even it out a little better, and checked that her shirt was tucked in as neatly as it could have been.
"Are you nearly ready?" the wizard asked in a bored voice.
Hermione dropped her jaw in disbelief and then sullenly snatched her school robes off of the seat of the armchair. "I thought you had to finish shaving."
"I cast a reflection charm on the wall," he replied matter-of-factly as he stood from his seat.
"Oh, discovered magic, have you?" she mumbled, fastening her robes.
Severus narrowed his gaze and folded his arms against his chest. "I stand by my earlier characterization of your morning persona."
The girl frowned. "I'm hungry, I couldn't sleep last night, and you made me wait more than half an hour to use the bloody bathroom. Of course I'm going to be cranky!"
"Well, if you weren't sleeping when you should have been, I don't see what prevented you from using the bathroom earlier," he smirked.
"Were you born an arse, or is this just a finely honed skill?" she queried before thinking and winced visibly as she picked up her book bag. When she moved to throw it over her shoulder, he caught her wrist, and her life flashed before her eyes. However, when all he did was remove the bag from her hand, she blinked at him in shock.
"Years of practice. Though, I can assure you there was something there originally upon which to build," he sneered, tossing the strap over his own shoulder. "Shall we feed you then before you disembowel the next individual unlucky enough to draw your attention?"
When she opened her mouth to respond, he rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes – I'm one to talk. That being said, it's much less attractive coming from someone of your…stature."
"I have news for you," she grumbled, feeling suddenly invincible, "it isn't all that attractive coming from someone of your stature either."
Snape raised one eyebrow. "Apparently, you must have thought otherwise."
"Oh, ha ha," she spat. At the rumbling of her empty stomach, she sighed. "Can we go now?"
Giving a stiff nod, he walked to the door leading to the hallway and held out his arm for her.
Hermione scrunched up her nose, grabbing hold of his hand instead. "You're supposed to be madly in love with me, remember? You're not escorting me to the Yule Ball."
With a shuddering sigh, he linked his fingers through hers and then pulled open the door. "Now pay attention so you don't get lost when walking on your own."
"Well, if I don't remember, can't I just cut through your office?" she posed as they started down the stone hallway. "I mean, I know where that is."
"Fine," he grunted. "Though it may behoove you to know an alternate route."
"I'm paying attention," she exhaled. "Just in case it may behoove me."
Severus snorted and flexed his fingers briefly in her grasp. It had only been a matter of minutes, and already his palms were beginning to moisten.
"You have really warm hands," she remarked off-handedly.
"Are you honestly complaining about –"
"I'm not complaining, Severus," she interrupted, smiling and leaning against him slightly. "I happen to like your warm hands."
The wizard widened his eyes in utter confusion until he noticed her subtly tilting her head in the direction of the staircase they were approaching. Glancing in that direction, he happened to catch the shocked expressions of two of his fifth-year Slytherins before they disappeared up the staircase in a panic.
"You're disturbingly good at that, Granger," he whispered when he was certain no one was within earshot.
The girl shrugged and put more space between them. "I was roommates with Lavender Brown for six years. I was bound to pick up some of her habits."
"As long as you use your powers for good," he sighed.
"Is that jealousy, I detect?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrows. "You should know better, darling. I only have eyes for you."
Severus glanced about the hallway, but when he saw no one, he eyed her in confusion.
"Just practicing," she winked, though on the inside she was screaming at herself to keep her mouth shut.
Rolling his eyes, the man grimaced. "I think I preferred the cranky wife."
"Oh?" she breathed. A modicum of relief settled into her system when she noticed the corners of his mouth were upturned in a smirk.
"Then I can be assured that you haven't been switched out by a Metamorphagus body double."
Hermione laughed at the reference to Tonks and then blushed at the memories of the pink-haired Auror's comments regarding the man currently holding her hand. "She wouldn't have waited nearly as patiently as I did. She would have just jumped you in the shower."
After choking slightly on his own saliva, the professor glanced down at his wife in shock. She glanced at the floor and then shyly flicked her gaze in his direction.
"I haven't had any sleep, remember?" she stated by means of an explanation. "My filters are rather non-functional in that situation."
As he pondered that statement, she sighed and rolled her shoulders. "Where am I to sit? With you, or with Gryffindor?"
"The Headmaster has decided to leave the choice entirely up to you," he replied, narrowing his eyes at a trio of gaping Hufflepuffs.
The young witch took in a deep breath as she contemplated her options. If she sat at the staff table, she would be on display for the entire school, but if she sat at the Gryffindor table, there would be next to no buffer for any student comments. It would also be that much harder to keep up the pretense of being that in love with Snape. Holding hands and flirty banter, strangely enough, she could do; longing glances across the Great Hall, not so much.
Gripping his hand tighter, she sighed and felt her stomach twist at the sight of students stopping dead in their tracks in the Entrance Hall. "Can I sit with you, then?"
"Of course, Hermione."
Glancing up at him in surprise, she nearly dropped her jaw at the hint of a smile on his face. When he squeezed her hand in reminder, she recovered and gave him a nervous grin in return.
"Sweet Nimue, he's actually smiling, and no one's dead!" a voice whispered harshly.
"Yet," another added. "Weasley looks pretty close, though."
It took every effort for Hermione not to cringe at the dark glare her husband suddenly shot over her head at the group of Slytherin girls gathered outside of the door to the Great Hall.
"Sorry, sir," the girls mumbled in unison, ducking their heads as they passed into the room.
"Brace yourself," Severus muttered just loud enough for his wife to hear over the hum of noise spilling out from breakfast. When she bit her lip and nodded, he pulled open the door and allowed her to step through ahead of him.
Hermione swallowed in fear when the lively chatter of the room suddenly died. When the Potions Master pulled on her hand and began walking confidently toward the dais, she shuffled her feet for the first few steps before she managed to meet his stride.
She could feel every eye on her as she grabbed onto Snape's arm with her free hand. It was unnerving to be able to hear her own footsteps over the rest of the noise in the room. It was even more unnerving, however, to note that the wizard she was attached to did not even appear to notice.
As she risked a small wave to her friends, she had to bite back hurt feelings when Ron refused to even look up from his plate. Letting out a quick breath, she looked up at her husband and forced a smile onto her face. A second later, the awkward silence in the room was broken by the clearing of a throat.
"If everyone would join me in welcoming back Professor Snape and his lovely bride, Hermione," he smiled, bringing his hands together. McGonagall immediately joined him, followed quickly by the rest of the staff. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables started a round of polite applause, and Gryffindor gradually participated, though none were as enthusiastic as Ginny and Harry. No one at the Ravenclaw table made an effort to join in celebrating their return, until Flitwick caught the eye of a few seventh years with a very deliberate stare.
When the couple reached the platform, Severus pulled out the chair next to Professor R. P. Laizment, the newest Ministry-appointed Defense instructor, and waited until Hermione had released his hand and sat down before he set down her bag and took the chair beside her. As they were seated, the applause died away when Dumbledore waved his hands.
"As I am sure many of you will be happy to hear, your Potions lessons will resume henceforth," he smiled.
As sounds of moderate excitement rippled across the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, and groans of disgust came from Gryffindor, the Potions Master snorted quietly behind his coffee cup, causing his wife to glance at him in surprise.
"I have one further announcement for you all this morning," the Headmaster said cheerfully. "Since our current Head Girl has moved on to a new position, as it were –"
Hermione flushed at the sound of snickering from the nearest tables.
"—she has most graciously decided to hand off her duties to another deserving candidate. It is with great pleasure that I announce that Miss Lisa Turpin has been selected as the new Hogwarts Head Girl."
When a slender blonde witch stood from her seat beside Terry Boot and Morag MacDougal and gave a small wave, cheers broke out from the rest of the Ravenclaw table and a rather audible curse came from the direction of Ginny Weasley.
"Miss Turpin will post her office hours outside of her new quarters by the end of the day," the elder wizard added before instructing everyone to return to their meals.
As the steady drone of student voices filled the room once again, Hermione shifted in her chair and attempted to ignore the dozens of stares in her direction. Shivering lightly, she wiped her sweaty hand on her robes and then eagerly began filling her plate.
She had just shoved a large forkful of eggs into her mouth when a throat cleared beside her. She looked up with wide eyes as the Defense Instructor leaned closer to her.
"Congratulations, my dear," he smiled. "I have heard on several accounts that it was a lovely wedding."
The witch struggled to swallow her food quickly and covered her mouth politely with her hand. "Erm, thank you, Professor."
"Please, call me Rodger."
Hermione's eyebrows shot to her forehead and she glanced awkwardly at Severus for assistance.
The Potions Master cleared his throat and glared over her head. "I do not believe that would be entirely appropriate, Rodger. For as long as my wife sits as a student in your classroom, propriety will be observed."
"Oh, quite right, Severus," the man nodded as though he had not just been the one reprimanded. "It is always refreshing to see a young couple such as yourselves adhering to tradition."
"Excuse me?" the girl hissed, "But –"
Severus sucked in a breath and squeezed her knee beneath the table.
"—could you perhaps…erm, pass the salt?" she recovered, plastering on another fake smile as she suppressed the urge to slap his hand away from her leg.
"Oh, certainly," Laizment nodded, reaching for the shaker nearest him and setting it in front of her plate. "Though my sister – who is a Healer, by the way – always claims witches ought to limit their salt intake, I think I can indulge you this once. I am sure it would take much more than a few sprinkles of salt on your eggs to ruin that lovely figure."
Hermione was practically vibrating with indignation, which only increased with another sharp squeeze to her knee. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the salt shaker and cleared her throat.
"Oh, no, it isn't for me, Professor," she shook her head, donning a syrupy sweet tone. "You see, Severus has confessed to me that he simply cannot stand his eggs to be unseasoned."
She turned to glance up at her husband and batted her eyelashes. "Isn't that right, darling?"
Snape made an unintelligible grunt and glared at his plate as she began heavily doctoring his food.
His wife ignored his distress and glanced back at the Defense Instructor. "Rather than offend the house-elves – which is a trait of his that I find undeniably agreeable – he has opted to suffer on in silence all these years. But I would be remiss in my responsibilities as his wife to allow his suffering to continue, would I not?"
"Oh, indeed you would," Laizment agreed.
"Hermione," the other wizard cautioned, leaning close to her. "You grow too bold."
"Oh, nonsense, Severus!" his colleague chuckled. "Your wife is quite the charming young lady, and I believe you should be thankful for that streak of boldness, for without it, who knows how long you would have pined away before realizing that your soulmate has been under your nose the entire time."
"Hmm, well," Snape drawled, eyeing her momentarily before glancing back at Rodger. "I suppose I am equally grateful for her sense."
When Hermione glanced at him with a curious expression, he raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Merlin forbid what might have had to transpire had she not had the sense to wait until after reaching her majority to demonstrate her superior brewing skills."
The witch's eyes widened at the implication of his statement and immediately averted her gaze to her plate. Her stomach felt suddenly queasy at the thought that Rita could have alleged a relationship between the two of them years before—during the Tri-Wizard Tournament even. Glancing surreptitiously down the length of the staff table, she caught sight of Professor Dumbledore watching them and she wondered if – had that been the case – he would have deemed it necessary to implement the same cover story.
Shivering lightly, she dropped her eyes back to her food and glumly picked up her fork. With the thought of having to marry Snape at fifteen suddenly floating about in her head, however, she found that she was no longer hungry. Sighing, she looked up at her husband and narrowed her eyes slightly upon seeing the amused expression on his face. Resting her elbows on the table, she leaned into him and dropped her voice so only he could hear.
"That isn't funny."
His smirk widened as he picked up his coffee mug once more and then dipped his head in her direction. "Is that so? Have you suddenly found your delicate appetite assaulted?"
Hermione sucked in a heated breath and moved away from him, only to have him lean towards her and whisper in her ear.
"Now we're even… darling."
Her cheeks flamed in frustration as he leaned back in his chair. At the sound of a fork clattering somewhere in the hall, a devious thought sparked in her head as she remembered the breakfast conversation from the morning of her wedding day.
"Well, if that's what you want, it would be in your best interest to eat now," she stated in a whisper just loud enough to be overheard by the nearest few staff members. "You could certainly stand the calories, love. You'll be burning them off soon enough."
As Severus had been in the midst of drinking his coffee, he ended up spraying a mouthful of his hot beverage back into his mug and down the front of his robes. Vanishing the mess, he glanced up and noticed that a number of his colleagues were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. With wide eyes, he cleared his throat. "Keep your voice down."
The witch feigned embarrassment and innocently glanced around at the staff. "Sorry."
She then flashed him a challenging look before eagerly tucking into her breakfast.
Snape eyed her in disbelief for several seconds, and when he looked away, he happened to catch sight of the smug expression on Minerva's face. Grumbling internally, he grimaced and begrudgingly picked up his fork. As he attempted to choke down his overly-salted meal, he knew without question that the little witch had won that round.
Hermione's victory was short-lived, however, for as soon as she was down from the dais and out of Snape's sight, she had to face the student body. The whispers in the hallways and before classes were similar to her experience during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but the staring was so much worse. In fact, she was quite certain that she could have walked into class after her Polyjuice debacle and attracted less attention than she did now.
"If everyone would please face the front of the classroom," McGonagall chastised as she strode down the middle of the room, "we could begin."
The young Gryffindor witch sighed in relief as the dozen pairs of eyes that were on her suddenly averted to the professor. As the lesson got underway, the unsettling feeling in her stomach gradually dissipated and she was almost able to ignore the random glances in her direction. When the session was nearly over, she felt confident enough to raise her hand in response to one of Professor McGonagall's questions.
The Deputy Headmistress smiled and gestured to the girl. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the loud clearing of a throat from the back of the classroom.
"Pardon the intrusion, Professor," Draco Malfoy smirked, "but I do believe she would prefer to answer to a different title these days."
As a round of soft giggles broke out from the rest of the students – besides Harry, Ron, and Neville – the girl felt her face flush, and she sunk down in her chair.
"Quiet!" Minerva stated, effectively silencing the room. "You are correct, Mr. Malfoy, and for that I do apologize, Madam Snape. Would you still care to share your reply with the rest of the class?"
Swallowing back her apprehension, Hermione focused on the apologetic expression on the instructor's face before nodding and quickly mumbling her answer.
"Correct," the Transfiguration Professor smiled. "Five points to Gryffindor."
The girl closed her eyes and ducked her head for the remaining handful of minutes of the class. As soon as it was dismissed, she launched out of her seat, grabbed her bag, and fled the room as quickly as she could walk.
"Hermione, wait up!" Harry cried, pushing his way through the crowd of students with Ron and Neville hot on his heels. As soon as he was free of the room, he sprinted along the edge of the hallway and caught up to her on the staircase. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she hissed quietly, resting against the stone banister. "I just need a moment to breathe before Defense."
"Almost too bad you couldn't take a longer honeymoon, eh?" he stated, smiling hopefully.
She rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor and then rubbed her forehead. "I highly doubt it would have been any better if I had."
"No," he shook his head, "I'm sure it wouldn't have."
"Look, all I'm saying is they have a point," Ron mumbled to Neville as they approached.
The chubbier wizard shook his head and adjusted his bag. "But it's a ridiculous argument. Just because she isn't living in Gryffindor Tower doesn't mean she isn't one of us. She can still earn points."
"Is that what they're saying now?" Hermione snapped, causing both boys to glance in her direction.
"Erm, yeah," Neville mumbled sheepishly. "The Ravenclaws were complaining in the hallway, but it's utter rubbish if you ask me."
"Thank you, Neville," she stated, shooting a glare at the redhead. "I'm glad someone is on my side."
Ron narrowed his eyes slightly and huffed. "I didn't say I wasn't on your side, Hermione. I just said that –"
"That they had a point when they said that I don't belong with the rest of you?" she interrupted. "Yes, I had gathered that already."
"Oi! I was just playing Demon's solicitor, alright?" he snapped. "I didn't mean anything against you."
"Devil's advocate," Harry corrected.
"What?"
"The term is Devil's advocate," he clarified, "not Demon's solicitor."
Ron frowned in confusion and glanced toward Neville who shook his head. "Nah, Harry, it's definitely Demon's solicitor."
"Whatever!" Hermione shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. "They both mean the same thing, so it doesn't bloody matter if you use the Muggle expression or the Wizarding one! The point, Ronald, is that I have enough people arguing against me and I don't need you doing it as well! Whether you mean it or not!"
"Fine," he snapped. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Oh-ho-ho, what have we here?"
All four Gryffindors looked in the direction of the new voice and cringed at the appearance of their least favorite Slytherin trio.
"A little ex-lovers spat?" Malfoy drawled as he stepped closer and then leered suggestively at Hermione. "Or has someone finally explained that the term 'Head Girl' doesn't actually require sucking off one's professor?"
The witch flashed red and balled her hands into fists. As Crabbe and Goyle laughed, she could see her three friends struggling to keep their tempers in check. Sucking in a deep breath, she pointedly met Draco's eyes and forced a smile onto her face. "Well, I guess I understand now why you haven't put up more of a fuss over not being picked for Head Boy."
She felt a small twinge of success at the look of horror that appeared on the blonde's face and strode away from the group before he could fully recover. Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged looks of amused amazement and scampered after her, leaving Malfoy to slap his dense, giggling henchmen into silence. Unsurprisingly, they were too dim-witted to understand the insinuation contained within her retort.
"Hermione, that was brilliant!" Harry declared as Neville nodded emphatically.
Ron snickered and glanced over his shoulder at the Slytherins before shifting his attention back to his friends. "Did you see the look on his face? He seriously wasn't expecting that."
"That ought to make him think before –"
"No, it won't," she sighed morosely. "And he's in all of my afternoon classes."
Harry gave her a sympathetic look and patted her shoulder. "We won't let him bother you in Charms."
"But what about Arithmancy?" she groaned as anxiety began building. "Or Ancient Runes? Oh god, I shouldn't have said that."
"You'll be okay," he replied with a smile, "and if you need, Ron and I will sort him out later."
Hermione gave a sad grimace as her two best friends stepped past her into the Defense classroom. Hanging back for a moment to gather her courage before facing another round of stares, she flicked her nervous gaze in Neville's direction.
The boy glanced around briefly before leaning closer to her and dropping his voice. "After Defense, you should go see him."
"What?" she asked. "See who?"
Neville shifted uncomfortably and blushed. "Professor Snape."
When she narrowed her eyes in confusion, he took in an unsteady breath and scratched his head. "I mean…well… as much as I dislike him, he's your soul mate. You're upset, and he should be able to help, right? I read that a person feels better when they're with their soul mate."
Hermione found herself smiling at the boy. He was not aware that the story was only a story, but still was on her side. Without hesitation, she gave him a quick hug. "Thank you, Neville. You're sweet."
"You're welcome," he mumbled. "As your friend, I'm glad that he makes you happy, but…erm… I really would rather not know any details."
The witch laughed and squeezed his arm lightly. "I promise not to give you any."
"Thanks," he smiled.
As soon as the Defense lesson – worthless as usual – was concluded, Hermione rushed out of the classroom and ignored all of the whispers as she descended into the dungeons. She had decided rather quickly after sitting in her chair to accept Neville's advice, not because being in her husband's presence calmed her down, but because she could, in effect, kill two birds with one stone. It would bolster their appearance as a loving couple, and if she could convince him to stay, she could avoid having to face another meal in the Great Hall so soon after the last disastrous one.
She wondered briefly if she would have a better chance of intercepting him in his classroom or his office, but upon stepping into the corridor she had her answer. A line of grumbling sixth-years was pouring out of the Potions classroom, each of them either scowling in frustration or sighing in relief at being allowed to escape.
Nervously, she ducked into a small alcove so as to not be spotted by them as they passed.
"Merlin," Tandy Knowles groaned to her fellow Ravenclaw partner, Daniel Reid, "I always assumed that if he got laid, he would be nicer."
Daniel shook his head. "You forget that it's Granger he's sleeping with. How decent of a lay can she actually be?"
The pair of Slytherins walking behind them began laughing loudly as one sniped, "How she hasn't suffocated him in his sleep with that hair of hers is a mystery."
"A miracle, rather," the other one added.
Hermione frowned and attempted to flatten her hair as the four continued mouthing their opinions to the amusement of six other students representing each of the Houses. When they were out of sight around the corner, she emerged from her hiding spot and attempted to get a hold of her emotions as she moved toward the Potions classroom. As she stepped through the doorway she nearly collided with Ginny who was clearly trying to get away from Colin Creevey and the two Hufflepuffs with whom he was chatting.
"Oh, Hermione!" she exclaimed in surprise, and then glanced in concern at the girl's face. "Are you okay?"
The older witch nodded and moved out of the way so the rest of the students could leave. "Yeah, I just…erm…needed to –"
"Get in some snuggle time?" the redhead interrupted with a waggle of her eyebrows.
"God, Ginny," she blushed. "Could you not?"
"Sorry," the taller girl shrugged as she took another step toward the hallway. "Snuggle-bear's in the storeroom, though I have to warn you – he's been a bit of a grumpy-gus this morning."
"You do realize that if he hears you, he'll strip Gryffindor of every point it has, right?" Hermione sighed, rubbing her face.
The youngest Weasley laughed as she moved down the corridor and shouted over her shoulder. "Worth it!"
With a shake of her head, the newly married witch closed the door to the empty classroom and dropped wearily into her usual seat. After ascertaining that there was nothing slimy or sticky on the surface of the table in front of her, she folded her arms onto the tabletop and rested her head. She could hear the muffled sounds of glass jars tinkling and quiet mumblings coming from the storeroom, but she really had no desire to see her husband's scowling face until she absolutely had to.
After a few minutes, the creaking of the storeroom door caused her to lift her head enough to peek over her arms.
"Let's just assume the professor is going to be sacked, so we don't have to do a bloody lick of reading," Snape muttered under his breath. "Why take any personal responsibility for your own learning? An absolutely ridiculous notion, obviously."
He paused upon seeing his wife slouched over her usual workstation and folded his arms. "Granger, what are you doing?"
She slowly raised herself into a seated position. "Waiting to eat lunch with my soul mate?"
"What happened to your declaration of never sitting at the Head Table again?"
Hermione grimaced at the memory of enduring Professor Laizment's never-ceasing commentary, and watching Snape suffer through a salty meal had lost its amusement factor rather quickly. "I didn't say I wanted to sit there."
The wizard narrowed his eyes. "Why aren't you in the Great Hall with your dunderheaded friends?"
"Because I needed a break!" she sighed, running her hands through her hair. "If I don't take one, I swear that I'm liable to punch Malfoy…again!"
Severus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize what all the little urchins are going to think we're doing, don't you?"
"Having a lunchtime quickie?" she smirked. "Yes, I had realized that, but they'll think that whether we eat in the Great Hall or not."
Nodding slowly, he strode toward the classroom door.
"Where are you going?"
He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled open the door. "You should already know that I have a strict 'no eating' policy in my classroom. The same concept applies to… quickies."
Hermione snorted softly, grabbing her bag as she stood from her chair. "Your office, then?"
"Mildly more professional than knobbing one off in the classroom," he sneered as she stepped past him into the corridor. After closing the door, he gestured for her to lead the way, keeping a few paces behind her until he heard giggling voices echoing off the stone walls. He then caught up to her and slipped his hand along the small of her back just in time for Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass to appear from the direction of the Slytherin dormitory.
As their chatter died away and their eyes widened, he fixed them with a challenging glare and then ushered Hermione into his office.
"Well, at least the rumors are going to respect your classroom anti-quickie policy," the witch muttered glumly, dropping into the nearest leather chair.
"For now," Severus grunted as he strode over to his desk and began clearing off a portion of his round desk. He then put in an order with the kitchen before sitting down in his chair. When a plate of food appeared on either side of his desk, he watched as she pulled her chair forward and began eating before he picked up his own fork. Hesitantly, he pushed around a forkful of food as he debated whether or not it was possible that the house-elves could have overheard the breakfast conversation and taken it to heart.
Noticing how cautiously he was approaching his meal, Hermione sheepishly glanced at her own. "I'm sorry that I ruined your breakfast."
He raised one eyebrow at her as he finally risked a bite. When he found it as palatable as he normally did, he gave a quick sigh of relief. "You are only lucky that you did not ruin every other meal as well."
"What?"
He cleared his throat as he loaded up another forkful. "The tables have ears, Granger. The elves take into account any suggestions or complaints regarding their cooking."
"Oh," she mumbled softly and then chanced a small smirk. "I guess that means they must have taken it with a grain of salt?"
Severus glared at her in response, causing her to shrug quickly and shift her attention back to her own food. After a few minutes of tense silence, he eyed her curiously. "I take it from your performance at breakfast that you must have started reading that book the Malfoys sent you."
She shrugged while she chewed her food and waited a few seconds before answering. "I may have skimmed it…and read the introduction."
"Did you not have anything better to do with your time?" he scoffed.
"Not really," she shook her head. "I've had my homework done for weeks, and normally I have rounds and tutoring hours and prefect meetings and scheduling and –"
"I understand, Granger," he interrupted curtly.
Hermione fell silent and slowly nibbled at her meal. A few minutes later she took in a deep breath. "I have a suggestion for the ground rules."
He paused mid-bite and then slowly glanced at her. "Yes?"
"Well, since I have to call you Severus in private, I think it only fair if you call me Hermione."
"Absolutely not," he responded.
She narrowed her eyes and set her fork down. "Why not? What if you slip up in public?"
"That will not happen."
"It could," she argued.
"Granger –"
"Hermione."
Snape sucked in a loud breath and glared at the wall.
The witch pursed her lips and scratched the side of her head. "You know, I wouldn't be so surprised by your saying my name in public if you used it in private."
He rolled his eyes and made a grumbling noise. "Fine. I will take it under consideration."
"Does that mean 'yes'?" she questioned.
"No."
She frowned and tapped her fingertips on the armrest of the chair. "Does that mean 'no'?"
"What it means, Granger," he sneered, "is that I will take it under consideration."
"Hermione," she corrected.