A/N: Wow...has it been a tough week for us all, or what? I know when my best friend texted me first thing in the morning to break the news that Alan Rickman had died, I didn't want to believe it. After frantic Google searches, the shock set in and it felt as though I had lost a close friend or favorite uncle. It certainly was not how I had imagined my birthday week would turn out. I have amazing friends, coworkers, and family, though, who all reached out to lend support in such a way that I started to think I was being rather absurd for grieving over a man I had never met (or even imagined meeting), but I think that stands to show just how spectacular a person he was. I fell in love with him as Colonel Brandon when I was five years old, and he has been a happy, enjoyable part of my life (minus the time I spent being irrationally mad at him for cheating on Emma in Love Actually) for the past 20 years. Even though the world feels significantly emptier without him in it, I know that he will never truly leave us for he will live on forever on our screens and in our hearts. Rest in peace, my good sir. You've done more than your share of making the world a better, brighter place.

I knew I wanted to get something updated in honor of Alan, so I pushed myself as much as I could to get this chapter out because it is infinitely happier than the next installment of Bound to Him. (I was not in any place this week to make Snape's life exceptionally more miserable.) Thankfully, the weather here is frigid (almost 30 below zero Fahrenheit) so staying in on my birthday was deemed acceptable, and I was able to finish this up for you all.

As my boss said to me this week, "We are Slytherins, and Slytherins honor their own." So, raise your wands, my friends, and never stop telling your stories.

Thank you all for the continued reviews and support. I love you all.

P.S. Just hit 1000 reviews on this piece, and 5000 on Bound to Him. You all are fantastic individuals who continue to surprise and inspire me.

P.P.S. I may have started crying just now. Ignore me and carry on.

Chapter 17: Some Manner of Resolution

"Miss – Hermione?" Minerva exclaimed after shutting her office door. "What are you doing in here? How long have you been waiting?"

The young witch wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know. A while, I guess."

"I apologize. I was caught in conversation after supper."

Hermione shrugged and straightened in her seat. "It's alright. I didn't exactly set up an appointment."

Her Head of House gave a nod as she crossed to the empty chair. "Now, what is the matter? I see you've been crying."

"I think maybe you should have stashed me away with Rita Skeeter," she muttered.

The witch snorted. "Absolutely not! That would have done irrevocable harm to your reputation and would not have eliminated suspicion towards Severus."

"Yes, but I wouldn't have had to pretend to like her."

McGonagall chuckled before pulling her chair closer. "Go on. Tell me what happened."

Taking in a deep breath, the girl wrapped her arms around her stomach and proceeded to explain everything that had happened over the past weekend. The longer she spoke, the angrier she became, until she was up and pacing back and forth, gesturing sharply with her hands.

The Deputy Headmistress sat calmly, waiting for her to run out of steam. Eventually, she got up to order a tea service and tray of biscuits. When it arrived, she gently took the girl by the shoulders, guiding her to a seat. "Have a spot of tea, dear, and calm down."

Hermione sighed loudly, but accepted a cup of tea and a ginger biscuit.

"Now, you do realize that you are both at fault in this, yes?"

"If he hadn't –"

"Hermione," Minerva cut her off. "Do you recall my advice to you regarding Severus?"

The girl sighed. "You said that I will have to choose my battles."

"I did, but what did I say about fighting said battles?"

"You said I would need to talk to him," Hermione responded. "But I did! I tried to talk to him, but he doesn't listen to me!"

Minerva exhaled slowly and stared into her tea. "I do realize how stubborn the man is. It may take a bit for it to sink in, but I promise you, he does listen."

"Then maybe he just doesn't care."

"That is unfair," the Gryffindor Head stated sharply before leaning forward in her chair. "When you were hiding, do you know what he was doing?"

She shook her head.

"When you did not arrive at supper, Severus left his. He talked to your friends and then disappeared from the hall. Hours later, he came here to ask if I had seen you. In that time, he searched every place he could think of trying to find you. He was afraid that you could have been in danger."

Paling slightly, Hermione dropped her eyes to her teacup. "He said that?"

"He didn't have to say it," McGonagall replied. "I have known that man nearly thirty years. He was concerned for you."

"Oh," the girl mumbled as guilt washed over her.

The elder woman sighed and set her tea on the desk. "I completely understand that Severus can be… well, difficult is perhaps too polite a term. He's been on his own his entire life, and he's used to either calling the shots or being told what to do. Compromising isn't something he has much experience with."

Hermione snorted, but could not bring herself to say anything.

"He will learn, which means that communication is all the more important." Minerva cleared her throat. "The two of you are married, and if you wish for him to see you as an adult, you cannot just tell him that you are one. You have to show him. When he errs, call him on it, but explain how it makes you feel."

"But –"

"I know it's intimidating, but he is your husband. You need to trust that he has your best interests at heart, because he does. You are pretending to be soul mates, but that does not mean your marriage is not real. You cannot ignore each other in private, yet expect to be more than amicable in public. There needs to be some measure of harmony."

Recalling Daphne's earlier comments, Hermione scowled. "I shouldn't be the only one held responsible for that."

"I didn't say that you should be," the elder woman replied. "But I think you are more accustomed to sharing your thoughts and feelings. If you approach him in a collected, mature manner, he will listen… and eventually, he will become more comfortable in discussing personal things with you."

Seeing the girl's disbelieving face, McGonagall snorted softly and held out the biscuit tray. "I would encourage you to talk to him before the night is over, but until you are ready to do so, you are welcome to stay."

An hour or so later, Hermione returned to their quarters. Though she saw no sign of her husband, the air felt oddly charged, as though her anger still hung there. Her shoulders slumped as she again felt ashamed by her childish behavior. She had only considered how her actions would irritate him without thinking through everything. How many times had she yelled at Ron and Harry for doing exactly that?

Rubbing her face, the young witch checked Snape's office before returning to knock on his bedroom door. When no response came, she hesitantly cracked open his door and found that room empty as well. With a frown, she walked over to the wall where Caitriona Selwyn's portrait hung. She had just opened her mouth to ask, when the door leading to his laboratory opened.

Severus noticed her almost immediately and came to an abrupt stop.

At his look of apprehension, she winced. "I'm sorry…for, erm… for… I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow at her stammered apology before glancing at the clock on the mantle. Sighing softly, he gestured toward the sofa. While she sat down, he claimed the armchair and leaned forward. "Miss Granger –"

"Hermione." Seeing his scowl, the girl lifted her chin. "No. Consummated or not, we are married. I am no longer Miss Granger to you or anyone else. I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge that. I do not see anything unreasonable with this request, so I don't quite understand why you have ignored it thus far."

The man took in a deep breath. "Fine. Hermione, I apologize for my earlier reaction. I allowed my anger to fly unchecked and treated you poorly. I will attempt to prevent it happening again."

Surprised by his admission, she shifted in her seat. "Oh. Well, I accept your apology, if you'll accept mine."

Snape eyed her suspiciously. "You will not purposely hide yourself from me?"

"No, I won't." Hermione hung her head in embarrassment. "I realize now that it was incredibly childish of me to do so."

"And you will keep me informed as to your whereabouts?"

She nodded slowly. "If you will try to do the same."

Grimacing, the wizard closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. "Within reason."

"But…" The young witch closed her mouth as she recalled McGonagall's advice. Swallowing back her protest, she straightened her posture. "Thank you."

He gave a single nod. "I accept your apology."

A few minutes passed in strange silence before Hermione tugged at her sleeves. "Professor McGonagall said you spent the whole time looking for me. I really am sorry. I just thought you would… I don't know, sit and wait like I did, I guess."

His dark eyes snapped to her in disbelief. "My wife inexplicably goes missing, and you thought I would sit around and brood?"

"I didn't brood!" she exclaimed before wincing. "Right, that wasn't the point. Sorry. I just… I didn't think."

"That was more than obvious."

The girl frowned and folded her arms. "You did the same thing, you know."

"Pardon?" He leaned back in his chair. "I assure you, madam, I was not intentionally hiding from you in some puerile scheme to piss you off."

"Well, how am I to know?" she argued. "People tell me all day that clearly I ought to be… doing all sorts of things to improve your mood, yet you are nowhere to be found! I checked your wardrobe like you said I could, but then I didn't know if you could still be in trouble. I didn't go out and look, though, because… well, where would I even look? And if you were to come back to find me gone after curfew… I thought you'd be angry with me."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but she gave him no opportunity.

"And then when you did finally show up, you were angry anyway! You told me it wasn't any of my business where you were! But shouldn't it be, though? If I am your wife, I should know where to find you. Especially if I'm going to be the one blamed for your behavior."

"Hardly!" he scoffed.

"No?" Hermione snapped. "Do you have any idea of what they insinuate? Apparently it's bad enough that even Malfoy, who sincerely wishes I had been Basilisk fodder, has started defending me! And the angrier you are, the worse it gets!"

Swallowing uncomfortably, the man looked away from her. "It will die down soon enough."

"Will it?" she sneered, catching his gaze. "How many days have we been in the paper? How many fan letters are we getting?"

"Yes, well," he shrugged. "It's only been a fortnight. Eventually, they will grow bored with the gossip."

"Isn't that more dangerous?"

The wizard quirked one eyebrow. "What?"

"Letting them grow bored," she clarified. "When they run out of things to talk about, won't they just invent their own? You said it yourself – they only thing society loves more than creating celebrities is tearing them down. I mean, that's how we ended up here in the first place!"

With a growl, Snape pushed out of his chair. "We ended up here because you made an enemy you couldn't keep under control."

Hermione whirled up from the couch. "But –"

"By the by," he interrupted, turning back to face her. "Before we continue… any other persons you're currently blackmailing?"

"No."

"Imprisoning?"

"No!"

"Feuding with?"

"Seriously?" she exclaimed. "Feuding with?"

"It's a valid question."

"Oh, well, you know…" the girl sputtered, "just a few individuals here and there. Namely, Slytherin House, Ravenclaw House, pureblood supremacists, the house elves, Death Eaters, Vold –"

"Stop!"

Hermione crossed her arms again and eyed him coldly. "What about you? Feuding with anyone lately?"

Severus rolled his eyes and continued moving back toward his laboratory. "Constant vigilance would not go amiss."

"I bet you piss a lot of people off, don't you?"

Pulling open the door, he snorted. "Says the kettle to the cauldron."

"Cauldron to the kettle," she corrected under her breath.

"Oh, no, madam," he smirked. "You are clearly the kettle in this little scenario."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the witch screeched.

As his smirk widened, he spun on his heel and disappeared down the staircase.

"Uggghhh!" Hermione let out a loud huff of air, before envisioning a kettle shrieking as it gave off steam. Growling, she tugged on her hair for several seconds before laughing once in spite of her frustration. "Arse."

Looking over her shoulder to ascertain that Draco was still helping Daphne pick up the stack of books that Hermione had accidently knocked over, the Gryffindor witch quickly ducked between a few other classmates. After escaping the classroom, she rushed down the hallway hoping for a reprieve from her Slytherin shadows.

"Hermione, wait up!"

The witch froze at her name, but gave a relieved sigh at seeing it was only Ginny who had called to her. With a quick glance back down the hallway, Hermione grabbed hold of Ginny's arm and tugged her into the girls' lavatory.

"Whoa, Hermione," the redhead exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

Her friend exhaled deeply and sagged against one of the sinks. "Malfoy."

"What did he do now?"

"Nothing specific." Hermione shook her head and dropped her bookbag to the floor. "He's just… Malfoy. I can only stand him for so long before I want to scream."

Nodding, Ginny set down her own bag. "Need me to punch him? I'd be happy to do it."

"No," she groaned. "I did that once. It doesn't deter him."

"If you hit him hard enough, it would."

Hermione laughed. "Thanks. I just needed a break."

"I understand completely." The younger girl fell silent for a few seconds before rocking on her heels. "So… how was Snapey sexy time, then?"

The brunette's head snapped up to glare at her friend. "Would you knock it off? It isn't any of your business, you know."

"Okay, fine," Ginny sighed, leaning against a sink. "You're no fun."

"Yeah, well neither is…" Hermione trailed off upon catching sight of movement beneath one of the stalls. Her heart pounded rapidly at the realization that she had nearly complained about living with Snape in front of an unknown student. There were definitely shoes visible in the second stall. Rather familiar purple, patent leather slippers with satin bows. Lavender Brown. The biggest, bloody gossip in Gryffindor Tower.

Rolling her eyes, the witch crossed her arms and glared at the stall door. Given the fact that there was no further movement or sound coming from her former roommate, it was obvious that Lavender was holding her breath – and quite possibly her wee – in the hopes of overhearing something juicy.

Upon contemplating last night's discussion with Snape, however, she relaxed and cleared her throat. "Fine, if you must know…"

Ginny's eyes brightened as she looked up. "I must."

Mindful of their eavesdropper, Hermione feigned eagerness. "You have to swear not to tell anyone this. I mean… Severus would probably kill me."

"I swear!"

"Last night was… well, it was explosive really," the girl explained, fighting the urge to laugh. "Seriously. We were at each other half the night. Well, for quite a while at least before we took some time to cool down. The second time we came together, though, was much more civilized – still a bit heated, mind you, but much… gentler."

A blush appeared on Ginny's face as she shook her head. "Good gods, Hermione! Maybe I don't want to know about your sex life. The images in my head…"

"Well, you were the one who asked," she responded primly. "But if you don't want to know, then I won't share."

"No, no!" the youngest Weasley protested. "Seriously, though… wand dimensions?"

"Ginny! Good lord! Why would I tell you that?"

"Tease."

Hermione flicked a glance at the occupied stall and wondered off-handedly exactly how long Lavender's bladder could hold out. "Okay, fine. Let's just say… his nose might not exactly be out of proportion to other aspects of his anatomy."

"Ha! I knew it! Janella can kiss my –"

"Ah ah ah," the brunette murmured, grabbing her friend's arm. "Not one word. To anyone. I mean it."

"I promise!" Ginny reaffirmed. "My lips are sealed."

"And, I swear on my grandmother's grave, if you ogle him –"

"God, no! I don't have a death wish."

With a nod, Hermione stepped back to pick up her book bag.

"So… half the night, eh?"

"Mmm-hmm," she smirked, thinking of an earlier dinner conversation at the Head Table. "And then we may have cuddled a bit."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "Cuddled? You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. He isn't always bark and snark, you know. Sometimes, he can be quite… sweet," Hermione replied. Maybe. Relatively speaking. He could be considered sweeter than a dementor. You know, if he applied himself.

"Wow," the redhead murmured, shaking her head. "Well, on that note, are you ready for lunch?"

"Absolutely. Especially considering I happened to, erm, sleep through breakfast."

Ginny shook her head. "Naughty witch."

As Severus moved about the classroom observing the bubbling potions, the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Raising his head, he noticed several fifth years suddenly look down at their cauldrons. While students had been noticeably curious in his classroom since he had returned after his unfortunate marriage, it seemed especially obnoxious this afternoon. Every session since lunch had required several, increasingly forceful demands for them to shut their bloody traps while he was trying to teach. By his last class of the day, his patience was hanging by a single thread.

With the backlog of brewing requests for the infirmary storeroom, he had decided to skip breakfast in lieu of finishing a small batch of Fever Reducers. Thus, he had not had the opportunity to nick one of his colleague's copies of the Daily Prophet to see what rubbish may have been published about their marriage. That being said, however, he found it odd that his morning classes had been relatively uninterrupted. The majority of the giggles and glances had only started at midday.

Speaking of… His eyes narrowed at the two girls who were animatedly whispering to one another while ignoring their potion, which had already darkened beyond the desired hue.

"Miss Stimpson!" he barked, startling most of the class.

The girl in question flushed bright red and nearly fell out of her chair. "Y-yes, P-professor?"

"Might I inquire as to what seems to be more important to you and Miss Parchley than your assignment?"

Her eyes widened in fear, and she shook her head.

"No? You do not wish to share with the class? Perhaps we might all find it as amusing as you do." He could feel the rest of the students shift their gazes away from him and toward the two miscreants. Without averting his eyes, he cleared his throat. "Fitzsimmons, mind your potion."

A freckled boy at a nearby station immediately snapped his gaze back to his cauldron and then took it off the heat before it could be ruined.

"If you are not willing to share, Miss Stimpson, perhaps Miss Parchley might enlighten us instead. Unless, of course, you both relish the opportunity to spend Saturday afternoon with Mr. Filch."

"Gah, no…sir!" Parchley stammered, shaking her head. "I… we were talking about… t-talking about w-wands, sir."

"Wands?" Snape repeated dubiously, though he had fully been expecting the response based on similar experiences in the previous class section. A few whispers sounded in the classroom while he folded his arms to his chest and leaned closer. "What about wands, Miss Parchley, and why was it necessary to discuss it in my classroom?"

"L-lengths, er, attributes…" The young witch flushed even redder and forced herself to take in a deep breath as a number of her classmates began giggling. "I mean, we were wondering about certain wizards – oh, and witches! – having lar— er, I mean, different sized wands. W-what about them determines how –"

"Enough," he snapped, gesturing for her to quit speaking.

"Sorry, sir," she murmured, dropping her gaze to her work bench. "We were just curious is all, sir."

"If you truly wish to understand the properties of wands, might I suggest asking your own Head of House. My classroom is not the venue for such…discussion." The professor glared at them for a moment longer before turning away. "Five points from Ravenclaw. And it will be five points from anyone else who does not quiet down and focus entirely on their own potions! Less than twenty minutes remain in this period, and I suggest you use them wisely. I will not be allowing anyone to loiter about after class today to finish."

With a stern look firmly in place, Severus returned to stalking up and down the aisles. Unlike typical class sessions, there were no questions asked and no snide comments given. By the time the class period had expired, all of the fifth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had bottled their attempts, cleaned up their stations, and scampered out the door.

Rubbing his temples, the Potions Master took a long moment for himself before checking over the classroom. After lugging the basketful of vials into his office for marking later that evening, he popped into his quarters briefly to use the lavatory. As he saw no sign of his wife having stopped down after her classes, he decided she must have gone directly to the Great Hall to eat with her friends.

Steeling himself for the confrontations that would likely occur at the Head Table regarding his liberal point deductions that day, he made his way back through his office and out of the dungeons.

"…like a bloody hippogriff!"

Snape spun around at the sound of an excited whisper. Immediately, two Hufflepuff sixth years dropped their gaze and scuttled past him on the staircase. The girls remained suspiciously silent until rounding the corner, at which point they burst into giggles. With a scowl, the wizard straightened his shoulders and continued on his way to the ground floor.

"…both gone from breakfast, and I heard…"

"…dragged her out of the library…"

"…quite sweet apparently…"

The Potions Master scowled darkly as he strode past clusters of students, catching snippets of their conversation. It was not hard to discern that the comments were somehow connected to his person as voices suddenly died away and groups tended to disperse at his appearance. He was somewhat used to the occurrence due to his being the most disliked professor at Hogwarts, but he had not felt himself so much in the center of attention since he was a student himself, facing the harsh gossip spread by Black and Potter.

"…up all night and this morning!"

"…breakfast in bed…"

"…rather cuddle a blast-ended skewrt!"

It took great restraint on his part not to strip their Houses' hourglasses further, but gossiping in the hallways had only been a punishable offence during the short and awful reign of the toady Delores Umbridge. Slandering a professor, of course, could be considered a policy violation, but proving they were discussing his person was nearly impossible – at least without resorting to means that would constitute a much greater abuse of authority than he was normally accused of doing.

Instead, he forced himself to ignore the mass of idiots until he reached the safety of the staff entrance to the Great Hall. There, at least, he could pretend that the buzz rising from the House tables was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Good evening, Severus," Pomona exclaimed jovially.

The wizard eyed her with suspicion as he took his seat. Her smile seemed genuine, though a hint of mischief danced in her eyes. Returning her greeting, he glanced down the rest of the table to see that the same expression appeared on several staff faces. Filius was beaming at him like an idiot, while Minerva was watching him with a bemused grin.

From their reactions, it was obvious that they had yet to notice the status of the hourglasses. Once they did notice that the gemstone balances had tipped noticeably in Slytherin's favor, it was doubtful that they would look so kindly upon him. It was not his fault, though, that the other three houses could not behave themselves in as civilized a manner as his Slytherin students had managed. None of his Household had neglected their classroom responsibilities or put their classmates' safety at risk to gossip over some ridiculous fabrication that had been released regarding his marriage.

That being said, however, Snape vowed to disappear into the dungeons before any of the other three Heads of House had a chance to discover the revised standings. He also considered pulling Draco aside and instructing him to caution the rest of the dormitory regarding their behavior for the rest of the week. Minerva, especially, would be out for blood in the coming days.

Blowing out a deep breath, he flicked his eyes toward Gryffindor table where Hermione sat surrounded by her friends. Apart from a few glimpses of her at lunch, he had not seen his wife since their brief apology session the night prior. He somewhat regretted riling her up again before bed – his allusion to her screeching like a tea kettle could have been left unsaid – but he did not think she looked terribly upset. For the first time since their unfortunate wedding, she looked to be fully enjoying her meal. She was laughing, at any rate.

"Oh, don't pout so much, Severus," Pomona murmured, patting his arm. "You'll have her back soon enough."

His eyes snapped to the plump witch. "What?"

"Your wife," she explained, gesturing with her head. "You'll get her back after supper. I'm sure she's missed you as much as you've missed her today."

Picking up his water goblet, he sneered, "Of that, madam, I have no doubt."

"Oi, Granger!" a Gryffindor sixth year called, gesturing with his fork. "Looks like Snape is anxious to get his broomstick polished again."

As her laughter from an earlier discussion died in her throat, Hermione looked up to the Head Table to find Severus staring back at her. Fighting a shiver, she turned to scowl at the younger boy. "It's Professor Snape to you, and you would do well to keep your repugnant opinions to yourself."

"Oooh, touchy!"

"Oh, shut up, Crawley!" Ginny snapped. "You're just jealous because you can't find anyone else to polish your broomstick."

"Nobody asked you, Weasley!"

"Oooh, touchy!" Harry mimicked, earning a smile from his girlfriend.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. After finishing the last of her pudding, she glanced back over her shoulder and frowned upon seeing Snape's empty chair. He had left her – again—and she would now have to either burden Ginny with escorting her down to the dungeons or suffer Malfoy's arrogance for another –

"Five points, Mr. Dawlish, for inappropriate dinner conversation. I would keep your mouth closed, Mr. Crawley, if you care not to make it ten."

The witch whipped around in her seat, surprised to see her husband standing practically behind her, glaring at her Housemates. "Severus?"

His dark eyes shifted to hers. "Were you finished? I have a fair bit of marking to finish tonight… and I'm starting to question whether or not the upcoming exams are taxing enough."

"I suppose I am done, yes," she replied with a smirk as a number of nearby students – Ginny included – began groaning. Using Snape's proffered arm for stability, she slipped out from the table, said goodbye to her friends, and threw her bookbag over her shoulder.

As they walked down the aisle toward the tall doors, he leaned down to murmur, "I just need a moment to speak to Mr. Malfoy, and then we can return to our quarters."

With a deep sigh, Hermione nodded. Whispers and stares emanated from each of the tables as they passed, but she kept her chin raised and eyes trained ahead of her until they reached the Slytherin table.

Making eye contact with his Head of House, Draco wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood from his seat. "Sir?"

Severus cleared his throat and turned his back to the Hall to prevent eavesdropping as he spoke to his godson. "I removed nearly seventy points from Gryffindor today. A House meeting would not go amiss."

A smirk flickered on the blonde's face before he nodded respectfully. "I'll see to it, sir."

Unable to keep the shock out of her expression, Hermione stumbled slightly over her own feet when her husband attempted to guide her out of the Great Hall. Letting out a huff, she fought the urge to pull away from him and managed to make it out of the room and down the first staircase before rounding on him. "Seventy points?!"

The professor exhaled loudly. "I believe I said nearly seventy."

"Oh, that makes it loads better," she muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag. "And a House meeting to crow about it?"

Snape rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored her question.

"That is absolutely ridiculous," the witch continued grumbling. "Gryffindor House wouldn't do that."

"The House meeting is not to gather about and celebrate Gryffindor having been punished for their abysmal behavior," he finally responded. "It may indirectly occur, I grant you, but this is primarily a matter of self-preservation."

His wife narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means that when Minerva finds out the magnitude of her point loss, she will undoubtedly seek retribution. My prefects understand this and will do whatever they can to ensure that their peers practice absolute decorum for the next week or so until her ire dissipates to standard levels."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think Professor McGonagall –"

"No?" he interrupted, stopping at his office door to look down at her with a raised eyebrow.

As she moved into his office, the girl swallowed nervously.

Shutting the door, Severus stepped past her to his desk. "I have been teaching here for sixteen years, Gra – Hermione. I would presume to have a far better understanding of House rivalries and politics than do you."

"Well, if you're such a paragon of fairness, why did you single out Gryffindor?"

"I hardly singled any one House out," he argued. "Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw also lost a significant number of points today."

"But not Slytherin?"

Calmly, he turned to shuffle through some papers on his desk. "Had they disrupted class to the same extent, they would have been held accountable on the spot and they would be receiving another personal visit from myself to discuss their errant behavior."

"Another visit?"

"Yes."

"How often do you meet with them?"

"I try to do so once a month. More frequently if I feel it is warranted."

"Oh." Hermione leaned against a small table and wondered why Professor McGonagall did not do similarly. She had addressed their whole House on a number of occasions throughout the past seven years – during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, for instance – but it had never been on a regular schedule. "When did you last speak to them, then?"

"Last week."

Frowning, she watched him move a crate of potion samples. "Does that have anything to do with why they aren't mocking me as much? Openly, at least."

Severus shrugged in response. "Or perhaps they are not as immature as the rest of your peers."

"I highly doubt that," she snorted. After a moment, she shook her head in disbelief. "How could you take so many points in one day? That seems rather harsh to me."

"I see," the wizard murmured. "Next time I shall consider allowing them to continue gossiping, distracting their brewing partners and classmates, ignoring their potions, and forgetting proper procedures. After all, I'm certain nothing too terribly tragic could occur in a classroom filled with sharp knives, open flames, boiling liquids, and ingredients that are potentially lethal or could very well explode when improperly mixed or handled."

The girl winced and shifted her weight. "Were they really that bad?"

He looked up from his work. "You accuse me of hyperbole?"

"N-no," she stammered. "I didn't mean it to sound like that."

"I do not take the personal safety of my students – any of my students – lightly in, or outside of, my classroom."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Grunting, Snape picked up a vial out of the nearest crate before returning his attention to his wife. "Did you do something?"

"What?" the girl gasped. "Why would you think I –"

He eyed her speculatively. "Why? Because I can't walk down the bloody corridor without being stared at or whispered about. Given our conversation yesterday, I find the timing suspect."

"Well, I… I didn't… I mean, they haven't stopped gossiping at all since Rita first published that article."

"I don't buy they would dare come up with the recent rumors…without assistance," he pressed. "I apparently provided you breakfast in bed this morning?"

"Oh, did you?" she murmured, flushing in embarrassment. "That must have been nice of you."

"Hermione."

"Fine!" she snapped. "So I may have implied a few things when I knew Lavender was within earshot."

"That I liked to cuddle?!" he growled.

"Oh, my deepest apologies for damaging your cold, heartless Death Eater persona," Hermione snarled as she walked toward their living quarters. "Forgive me, sir, for growing weary of getting chained to the bedposts, locked up in a cage, or trussed up like a bloody…I don't even know what! I didn't think it would be so awful for people to think that I could possibly have a husband who was affectionate toward me!"

With a frustrated sigh, Severus slammed down the vial on his desk and followed her into the sitting room. "Hermione."

"What?" She spun around to face him after dumping her book bag on the sofa.

"I apologize for snapping at you," he stated slowly. "I don't have much patience left today."

"I noticed." Blowing out a breath, the girl tried to run a hand through her hair and winced upon catching a large snarl with her wedding ring. "I'm sorry. I just… I just don't know how to do this…at all. I didn't ever envision myself married at eighteen with no money or prospects of higher education and only conditional access to my friends. I mean, Neville and I have always been friends because we both know what it's like to be an outcast, but now he won't even speak to me because of…some stupid, prehistoric tradition that probably has both of my grandmothers spinning in their graves!

"Ronald barely manages civility, and Harry's pretty much useless with other people's problems because he already has so many of his own to deal with, but it doesn't matter because I can only talk to them when Ginny is available. And I can't exactly tell them the whole truth, can I?

"Merlin, I can't even sit class, or read in the library, or walk down the bloody corridor on my own anymore because, well, I suppose I might suddenly forget what this sparkly rock on my finger means and, you know, just start mating with the first male I encounter!"

The Slytherin Head coughed loudly as he tried to swallow a laugh at the absurdity of her last statement, but Hermione did not seem to notice as she all but collapsed onto the end of the sofa. Tears were forming in her eyes as she stared down at her hands.

"I feel like I don't have any control over my life anymore, so I just…" She shook her head. "I wasn't going to say anything at all. I told Ginny our marriage wasn't her business, but then I noticed Lavender was there. I was worried that she would think it strange that I wouldn't want to gush over true love with my friend when I thought we were in private. I knew she would gossip about it and embellish whatever I said, so yes, I phrased things so it would sound like last night was a happy anniversary celebration."

The young woman wiped at her eyes and shrugged. "And maybe I thought that if I could influence some of the things they say about me, I would have something at least."

Though she hid her face, Severus could tell from the sniffling that she was crying.

"Oh, bloody hell," he whispered, running a hand over his mouth. Having no clue as to what to do with her, he remained rooted in place for several seconds. Eventually, he gathered enough courage to approach the couch. She did not acknowledge him as he stood over her, so he gently perched on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Though he was unsure of what to say, the wizard conjured a soft handkerchief.

Before he could offer it to her, however, the witch gasped an almost inaudible word of apology and pushed off of the sofa. A moment later, she disappeared through the tapestry, and he heard her bedroom door click shut behind her.

"Bugger me." Severus glared at the back of the sofa for a moment, stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, and then stood to return to his office. The dozens of student potions waiting for marking were comparatively easy to sort out and did not require any conversational attempts.

"Ahem! Just where do you think you're going?"

Blowing out a large breath, he turned to scowl at his ancestor's portrait. "I have work to do."

"I'll say," Lady Selwyn muttered, gesturing toward the tapestry. "The priority of which does not reside in your office."

The man crossed his arms. "What happened to my not being allowed in there?"

"When the two of you are angry with each other, you are not allowed," the portrait witch corrected. "At the moment, that does not hold true. She is frustrated, embarrassed, ashamed, and needs to know that you do care something about her emotional well-being."

"I highly doubt she desires my presence."

"Desires, probably not, but needs it all the same. Seeing as she apologized and didn't tell you to bugger off, I doubt she will object to it."

Groaning loudly, Snape kicked his office door shut and hesitantly approached her bedroom.

"Oh, buck up, boy," Caitriona chided. "If you expect that Muggle chit to push out any of your half-blood brats, you had best learn to deal with mood swings."

With a cold glare, he moved his hand through the tapestry to knock on the door.

"What is it?" came the muffled reply.

The wizard cleared his throat. "May I enter?"

There was a brief pause before, "I suppose so."

Ignoring the portrait's smug expression, Severus entered his wife's bedroom in time to see her quickly wiping her eyes as she sat up straight.

"I'm sorry I…oh, erm, thank you," Hermione muttered, taking the offered handkerchief. "I feel rather stupid for crying."

Her husband shifted nervously as he noticed the large ginger tom was staring at him from one of the pillows. "Is this a common occurrence, then?"

She snorted into the handkerchief. "I wouldn't say so, no. But then again, we aren't exactly under normal conditions. That, and I suppose you and I might have different interpretations of 'common'."

"Likely true," he murmured, glancing about the small room. Seeing no alternative seating, he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a gap of several inches between them. After silently mouthing the word 'turpentine' at Lady Selwyn's glowering portrait, he interlocked his fingers and stared at her wardrobe. "I do understand why you're upset. Frankly, for what it's worth, I agree with you regarding the absurdity of most pureblood traditions."

The girl lowered her hands and looked to him in surprise. "You do?"

Severus nodded. "My mother, though, was raised to follow them. Several occasions, I attempted to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn't hear of it. My father did not deserve her deference. Or anyone else's, for that matter."

"Oh." Hermione twisted the handkerchief in her hands.

"That is not to ever be broadcast."

"Of course not," she shook her head.

The wizard straightened his spine and sighed. "However, though I do not like them, following the customs is our best option presently. To disregard wizarding tradition would raise too many questions that we cannot afford to answer."

"I understand that," she stated quietly. "I just…I don't really know how to without… I don't know, losing who I am? That probably sounds stupid."

"No," he replied. "I assure you I don't know how to do this either. I had not planned on marrying, and certainly never imagined marrying one of my students while she still sat my bloody class. The students, half the staff, and the Wizarding population at large have to believe that I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you. I have no idea how I am supposed to manage that, let alone do so without drawing suspicion from either the Dark Lord or the Order for showing you too much affection."

"So we're both completely out of our element," Hermione muttered. "Except it isn't your fault for getting us into this mess."

Rubbing his temple, Snape turned his head to look at her. "Despite what I may have previously suggested, you are not at fault, either. Even if you had done a better risk assessment before going after that nauseating woman, you could not have predicted she would retaliate in such a fashion."

"It definitely wasn't on my list of possible consequences, no."

"I suppose I should not be surprised that you would compile such a list," he smirked. "Should I also presume it was quite extensive and excessively cross-referenced?"

The witch gave a brief smile and nodded her head. She watched in mild amusement as Crookshanks attempted a number of times to sneak onto the man's lap only to be glared at and pushed away each time. Eventually, she scooted close enough to Snape to spare him further feline assault. After scooping up her cat, she asked, "Truce?"

The professor nodded slowly. "I will attempt to be… less unpleasant, so long as you try to leave me some respectability with my students."

"Deal."

Severus stood up from the bed, but paused before leaving the room. "That includes curtailing any further discussion of my… wand attributes."

"Oh god!" Hermione squeaked, hiding her crimson face behind the cat's fur. "They didn't… in class?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Granger," he sneered. "They did."

"I'm so sorry. What did… what did you do?"

With an innocent shrug of his shoulders, he replied, "I merely suggested that if they truly were curious about the wand characteristics of different wizards, Professor Flitwick would be more than happy to discuss it…at length."