A/N: Merry Christmas to you all! I realize I'm a few days late, but hey! I did have this ready to go on Christmas day, but the lovely ice storm and blizzard that rolled in decided not to allow it. But the internet is finally functioning well enough now that I can get this uploaded, so yay! I hope you all have had a lovely holiday season no matter what you do or do not celebrate. I'm wishing you all a gigantic dose of love, peace, and joy.

As always, I look forward to your comments. They shall be my Christmas present.

Chapter 20: What To Expect

Hermione groaned as Draco pulled out the seat beside her. Leaning back in her chair, she used her quill to gesture toward the next table. "Over there."

"Pardon?"

"The library is practically empty at present, Malfoy. My reputation is hardly going to be threatened. Besides which, Daphne is already here. Thus, you don't need to be."

The boy smirked as he flicked a glance to his Housemate, who was pretending not to listen, and then settled more firmly into his chair. "Did you enjoy detention last night?"

She rolled her eyes and refused to acknowledge him further.

After unpacking his study materials, Draco peered over her shoulder at her notes. "An awful lot of detail for someone who isn't sitting the NEWTs."

As Hermione's eyes hardened into a glare, Daphne leaned forward. "Enough, Draco. Focus on your work, and let her focus on hers, so I can actually focus on mine."

"Always so bossy, Greengrass," he teased with a wink.

"Well, it's in Professor Snape's best interest for her to keep studying, isn't it?" Daphne pointed out. "After all, who knows how much time she might have before…"

Draco's eyes widened in understanding as he opened up his textbook. "Merlin help him."

"Before what?" Hermione asked slowly, glancing between the two of them. "What are you talking about?"

The Slytherins stared at each other for a moment as though silently battling over who would explain it to her. Eventually, Draco cocked his head and waggled his eyebrows. With an amused snort, Daphne sighed and turned her attention to the Muggleborn witch. "Before you start having children."

Gaping in shock, Hermione accidentally dribbled ink over her notes. "What? We're not –"

"Not now, of course," Daphne interrupted. "Professor Snape would hardly rush such a thing, but time slips away."

"And accidents do happen," Draco murmured.

Hermione glared at him before crossing her arms. "What does that have to do with studying?"

"Oh, Merlin."

"Hush, Draco. Muggles don't know these things." Ignoring the cold look she was receiving from the Gryffindor, Daphne straightened her posture. "You asked me to explain this to you before, so I'll indulge you now. It's well known amongst pureblood society that if you want an idea of how talented a child will be, look to the mother."

"Oh, that is so –"

"Please don't interrupt me, Madam Snape. If you have a question, fine; but please allow me to finish explaining before you start dismissing me."

Hermione huffed in response, feeling slightly ashamed until she noticed the appraising look Malfoy was giving the other witch. Grimacing, she turned her attention back to Daphne. "My apologies. Please continue."

"Generally, children are more in tune with the mother's magic because they are formed while encompassed by it. The better educated, more magically adept the witch is, the more likely it is that her children will be strong magic wielders. It's best for the mother, then, to see to their early magical education."

"So there aren't any Wizarding schools for young children?"

Daphne shook her head. "Could you imagine looking after ten to fifteen children with uncontrollable magic at one time?"

"You'd have to hire a Weasley," Draco interjected, earning another glare from Hermione.

"To deal with them all without stunting their magical development would be difficult. Since a mother's magic is sympathetic to her children's, it's easier for her to assist them in controlling it." The girl shrugged. "Besides, magical children don't all show skills at the same time, so those that don't display them as early as others might feel inadequate or be harassed by their peers. Wouldn't they, Draco?"

"I cannot imagine why you're looking at me, Greengrass," he quipped, feigning innocence.

Smirking, Daphne shifted her gaze back to Hermione. "Even in the same family, children differ. For instance, I first demonstrated magic at two years, my sister Astoria was three, and I'm told my elder brother, Reginald, didn't display anything until he was five."

Draco cleared his throat. "Six months."

"Lies your mother told you."

"Oh, I rather doubt that."

Disgusted by the blush on Daphne's cheeks as she rolled her eyes, Hermione sat higher in her chair. "Some of us attended Muggle primary schools, though, and we're hardly disadvantaged compared to the rest of you."

"Muggle schools!" Malfoy exclaimed, turning in his seat with a look of genuine horror on his face. "You would unleash those barbarians on your children?"

"Lower your voice, Draco," Daphne hissed, glancing over her shoulder to check for Madam Pince. When there was no sign of the hawkish woman swooping down on them, she returned her eyes to the girl across from her. "When did you first display accidental magic, then?"

Hermione frowned as she searched her memory. "I'm not certain actually."

"Did it ever happen while at school?"

A recollection of pebbles seemingly tossing themselves up at a pair of boys teasing her on the playground briefly flashed in her head. "A few times, I suppose."

Daphne sat back in her chair and eyed her shrewdly. "They knew you were different, didn't they? The Muggles."

"I… guess so, yes."

"And did they like that you were different? How many friends did you have?"

The Gryffindor witch remained silent.

"You believe it would be any different for your children?"

Draco sighed grumpily as he scratched out a line in his notes. "You can't trust Muggles with children."

"You are absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione snarled, rounding on him. "Muggles are not the enemy!"

"Save your breath," Daphne muttered, again scanning the area for the librarian.

Her fellow Slytherin snorted disdainfully. "You think you can convince us that centuries of persecution by Muggles were all in jest?"

"You mean witch trials? They're long gone, and besides which, any true wizard could have –"

"Why don't you go ask Zabini why his family had to come here? Ask him what those monsters did to his sister." Draco shook his head and pushed his chair backwards. "Better yet, don't. Keep your Mudblood nose out of his business."

The witches watched quietly as he snatched up his things and stalked over to one of the other tables.

"He's not entirely wrong, you know," Daphne sighed, picking up her quill again. "There's a reason why the statute of secrecy is still in effect. Because if Muggles knew about us, they would fear us. They would want to control us, and if they couldn't, they would eliminate us. Their fear would lead them to hunt us… or turn us into freakshows. I doubt even you would want to risk that with your child. Professor Snape certainly wouldn't."

Uncertain as to what to say, Hermione simply dropped her eyes to the textbook in front of her.

Tugging on his teaching robes, Severus swung his damp hair out of his eyes as he pushed into his office. Allowing himself a yawn, he sorted through the scattered parchment on his desk, double-checking that his exam questions were fully prepared. Satisfied, he gathered them together in a neat pile.

With a glance at the clock, the wizard finished fastening his robes and made to return to his quarters. The sight of something unusually orange and fluffy on one of his shelves stopped him in his tracks.

"What… the devil… do you think you're doing?" he snarled, glaring at the ginger tom happily wedged between the pickled seahorses and scarab beetles. "You're not supposed to be in here, you idiot."

Muttering under his breath, Severus stalked over to the shelf and slid the jars out of the way. Before he could grab hold of the half-kneazle, however, it lazily rolled over and stretched, knocking a number of other jars out of place.

"Damn it, cat!" he shouted, quickly catching the few that slipped off the shelf. Setting the glass on a lower shelf, he snatched up the loathsome creature and carried it under his arm into the sitting room. "Granger!"

His wife stepped into the doorway of the bathroom, with her hair half braided. "What?"

"Your mangy cat was in my office."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Did you leave the door open?"

Snape narrowed his eyes into a glare. "Come get him."

Hermione continued braiding her hair. "Just set him down somewhere."

Pinching his lips into a thin line, the man glanced down at Crookshanks, who appeared rather smug. Upon checking that the witch had moved out of sight once again, he stealthily crept to the hallway door and none-so-gently deposited the beast in the corridor. "Beat it."

The cat gave him one saucy flick of his tail before sauntering out of sight.

Severus quietly closed the door again and dropped into the armchair to wait for his wife. "Are you ready yet?"

"Yes," the witch sighed, appearing before him. "Where'd Crooks go?"

Standing, he made a vague gesture. "Wherever he damn well pleases, I imagine."

Hermione snorted as he took her bag from her, and then followed him through his office. "Surprisingly enough, he seems to like you."

"Oh, how fortunate am I," the wizard muttered, grabbing hold of her hand and yanking open the door.

Noticing a few students nearby, the girl pulled on his hand and leaned against his side. "Yes, I daresay you are quite fortunate, love."

With a quiet sigh, Snape directed her toward the staircase. "You're just as self-satisfied as that little monster of yours."

"Perhaps." She smirked up at him. "Give him time, Severus. I'm sure he'll grow on you. You'll love him before you know it."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Though, considering people believe that cats are attracted to negative energy," Hermione mused, "perhaps it isn't so surprising Crooks likes you."

Ignoring the comment, Severus increased their pace until reaching the ground floor. He stopped suddenly outside of the Great Hall, causing his young wife to slam into his side. "Are you sitting with your idiot counterparts this morning or mine?"

Trying to disguise her somewhat labored breathing, Hermione peered through the doors to judge the status of the Gryffindor table. "Mine, I think. They look relatively tame today."

"Very well." The Slytherin silently delivered her to her preferred spot and set down her bag. Before moving on to the Head Table, he cast a warning glare toward Seamus and a few other likely troublemakers.

"You've got him well-trained, it seems," Ginny commented.

With a soft sigh, Hermione picked up her glass of juice. "I'm working on it, at least."

"Well, I hope you worked on it especially this morning," the redhead replied, "because we have an exam today."

"I think you studying will have more of an impact on your exam than anything I might do."

"Then clearly you're not doing it right."

"Oh, and what would you know about it?" Hermione countered, staring pointedly at her.

Blushing, Ginny flicked her eyes in Harry's direction and then cleared her throat. "Just what I've heard, you know."

"Uh-huh. It better be."

The youngest Weasley rolled her eyes. "You're hardly in any position to judge, Madam Snape."

"Hush. Eat your breakfast."

Though half of the Gryffindors intentionally ignored her, no one seemed to be whispering about her. At present, they appeared to be more interested in other topics – the upcoming Quidditch match, for instance. Content with her surroundings for the first time since she was married, Hermione happily munched on her toast as she watched the owls deliver the morning post.

"No fan mail today?" Harry asked.

The witch shook her head and gestured toward the Head Table. "Any post of mine goes through my husband first. Wizarding customs, you see. I don't have to worry my pretty little head about things on my own anymore."

Ginny snorted pumpkin juice through her nose, and sheepishly wiped up the mess. "Sorry. At least Malfoy doesn't get to read your correspondence first?"

"Thank heavens for small mercies," she muttered, glancing over at the nearest copy of the Daily Prophet. "Anything interesting happening today?"

"The Cannons sacked one of their Beaters," Harry replied with a smirk. "Or were you referring to something in particular?"

As the boy laughed, his girlfriend cracked open her copy of the paper and deftly began scanning the pages. "Ah! Here you finally are. The fashion column, Hermione! What an accomplishment! Apparently, that coat of yours is to die for. Simple, yet stylish, and forgiving enough to flatter any figure."

When Hermione began to giggle and continued to do so for some time, Ginny peered at her curiously.

"It wasn't that funny."

"No, it's just…" She glanced up at the Head Table to see her husband having a stilted conversation with Professors Laizment and Sinistra. "If Severus ever gives up Potions, perhaps he could take up fashion design."

"What?" Ginny asked, confused.

"I hadn't had a chance to go shopping yet when that photo was taken. He transfigured that on the fly upon arriving in Diagon Alley."

The redhead made a quiet noise of surprise. "Well, nicely done, Professor. Any other surprise talents you'd care to share?"

Hermione flushed and shook her head. "No."

"I suppose it's not appropriate table talk," Ginny sighed, patting her arm. "You can find me later."

"I'm not telling you – or anyone – now or later," Hermione stated clearly, glaring at a few girls who were not-so-subtly attempting to eavesdrop. "That isn't anyone's business."

Protesting the subject, Harry and Ron returned to discussing the Chudley Cannons, which quickly drew in Ginny as well. Hermione listened disinterestedly until a dark shape appeared in her peripheral vision. Looking up, she smiled politely at her husband as he handed her a few letters and her own copy of the Prophet.

"Thanks."

Snape grunted in acknowledgement before ducking his head closer. "Are you remaining here until class?"

"I was planning to do so, yes. I have an essay I can work on."

"Very well. I shall see you at the noon meal."

"Alright." Hermione watched him leave and then noticed Ginny – and a few others – had been watching them closely. "What?"

"Nothing," the younger girl replied with a smirk. "You're staying here?"

"Mmm, yes. Daphne and Malfoy both have Potions now, and you have class as well, so I don't exactly have an escort. No doubt Malfoy will be back to annoy me after Potions, so I'm going to enjoy the alone time while I have it."

"Well, good luck with that," Harry murmured as the majority of the students began leaving the table.

Hermione bid her friends goodbye and then hauled her book bag onto the bench beside her. Instead of pulling out her class materials, however, she opened up the Daily Prophet, wanting to verify for herself that nothing else had been written about her marriage. Despite the quiet of the morning, a strange feeling had settled into her gut.

At the sound of an excited gasp, she looked up to see Lavender and Parvati crouched over a magazine. Assuming they were gushing over whatever gorgeous specimen they were obsessed with this month, she returned her attention to the paper in front of her. Upon finding no other mention of herself or Snape, she turned back to one of the more informative looking pieces and settled into read. Just as she reached the final sentence, a throat cleared.

"Hello, Hermione," Lavender greeted as she and Parvati claimed the seats across from their former roommate. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm, erm, alright," the witch responded slowly. "How are the two of you?"

"Fantastic, actually," the blonde gushed.

Parvati leaned forward with wide eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Hermione narrowed her eyes and closed her newspaper. "Why?"

"We were wondering if you had any special plans," Lavender explained, "for, say, June?"

"Graduation?"

The blonde waved her hand dismissively. "Besides that."

"If you're trying to point out that I won't be sitting NEWTs, I'm well aware of that fact, and you can move along."

Parvati shook her head. "No, no! Not about that. I would never tease you about that! I can only imagine how upset you must be about that."

"Then I have no idea what you're talking about. Severus and I have not discussed our summer plans as of yet." She internally grimaced at the thought of being trapped all day with her husband without her classes or friends providing an escape. Then, upon considering the fact that she would have to either explain the premise of her marriage to her parents or come up with a viable excuse for why she would not be spending the summer with them, she felt her stomach twist.

"I don't believe you."

Hermione exhaled loudly. "Lavender, what is it you want to know?"

"About the baby, of course!"

The brunette jerked backward in surprise and then leaned forward to hiss, "What baby?"

Parvati pointed toward her midsection. "Your baby."

"I don't have a baby!"

"Well, not yet, obviously. But soon enough, yeah?"

Hermione narrowed her gaze and wrapped her arms defensively about her waist. "I'm not pregnant."

"You're not?"

"Absolutely not! Why would you think I was?"

The two girls glanced at one another, and when Parvati nodded, Lavender cleared her throat. "We saw it…in Divination."

Huffing in disapproval, Hermione folded her arms to her chest. "So, you divined it from the cosmos, then? It's completely ludicrous that the two of you still think –"

"And then there's this!" Parvati added, producing a copy of Witch Weekly and slid it across the table. In the bottom corner of the front cover, 'True Love's Baby?' pulsed in sparkly pink letters.

Hermione snatched up the magazine and frantically flipped to the indicated page, where photos of herself and Snape were prominently displayed. Growling in frustration, she quickly digested the brief blurb accompanying them.

First came True Love, then came a whirlwind marriage… is Baby Snape soon on its way? No official word yet from the couple, but photos from their recent excursion through Diagon Alley strongly suggest the possibility. Is it just us, or is his hand resting rather protectively over her stomach while she gazes up at him, her face filled with love? And if this cozy interlude doesn't have you convinced, the new, dare we say glowing, Mrs. Snape was spotted earlier shopping for flutter-wings, a key ingredient in the most commonly used gender revealing potion. That look of wonder on her face – is it because she's thinking of a little, dark-haired witch- or wizard-to-be? We think so.

"Oh no," she whispered, rising from her seat. "No, no, no."

Her former roommates watched amusedly as she grabbed all of her things and hurriedly vacated the Great Hall.

"She nicked your magazine, Lav," Parvati murmured.

The blonde shrugged and flicked her curls over her shoulder. "Let her keep it. They have some tips in there for dealing with pregnancy and babies. She's going to need it."

"But she said she wasn't."

"We saw what we saw, Vati," Lavender replied. "Hermione, baby, June. Maybe she just doesn't know she's preggers yet."

Ducking into his office between classes, Severus paused momentarily upon spotting his wife sitting on the edge of his desk and then continued moving toward her. "Granger. I'm fairly certain that I left you upstairs."

When she did not immediately respond, he swatted her hip with his stack of collected essays. "Remove your arse from my desk, and explain why it is not presently on its way to class. And quickly, if you would. I have limited time before the next batch of hellions start squabbling in the corridor."

Grumbling under her breath, Hermione slipped off the desk and then tossed the copy of Witch Weekly on top of the pile of essays he had set down. "Apparently, I'm pregnant. I thought you might want to know about it seeing as it's your child rumored to be growing in my womb."

"What?" he muttered, flicking his eyes to her before glaring at the magazine. "Merlin's sake, we've been married less than a month. What asinine reasoning led them to suspect that already?"

"Already?" she questioned. "You mean you've been expecting this?"

Inhaling deeply, Snape placed both hands on the desk and leaned over it. "We're married. As far as the general public knows, we are regularly engaging in marital relations. Thus, it is only natural to assume that eventually those relations will bear fruit. So yes, I expected it only a matter of time before the speculations began regarding whether or not you were expecting."

With a scowl, the witch grabbed the magazine and flipped open to the page. "Firstly, you're just as much to blame for this as I am, so they're speculating that we are expecting –"

"Semantics." He huffed and snatched the periodical from her hands.

" – and secondly, they have a photo of me from Humboldt's. The man who was watching me… he must have been working for Witch Weekly."

"Possibly," the wizard responded, rubbing his forehead. "Or he merely sold them the photo in addition to whatever else he was up to. His presence frightened you for a reason, Granger. Do not let your guard down."

"I was not planning to do so," Hermione sighed and then pushed away from the desk. "I didn't know that flutter-wings were used for revealing the gender of a fetus, I swear. Had I known that, I hope I would have had better sense than to pick up that jar. I just hadn't seen the jewel-tipped variety before, and… thought they were pretty."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk before shaking his head. "Only a self-impressed idiot would use jeweled ones for that particular brew. The pastels are more effective and far more economical."

"I presume the Malfoy's used them, then?" she muttered. Upon receiving a rebuking glare from her husband, she sighed loudly. "Is that to be our response then? We're not self-impressed idiots and we've been married for a measly three weeks?"

Severus tossed the magazine into the bin. "We don't need a response at present. There's no credible proof of anything. If anyone asks you, deny it, laugh it off, ignore them - whatever you think will best discourage further questions. Time will show this was nothing more than rumor."

"That's it?"

"That's it," he answered. "Now, can I trust you to make it to the Charms classroom without mounting any males you stumble upon?"

Hermione was fully prepared to protest until realizing what he had said. Instead, she gave him a small grin. "I'm fairly certain I could manage that."

"Well, I'm not writing you a pass, seeing as that would be grossly inappropriate given our supposedly intimate relationship. Thus, you had best be on your way, lest you earn yourself another detention for tardiness. I have better things to do with my evenings."

Once Flitwick dismissed the class, Daphne pushed her way to the front of the classroom. Grabbing hold of Hermione's arm, she tugged her to the side. "Are you?"

Hermione exhaled in frustration. "No."

"You're entirely certain?"

"Yes."

"What's going on, Daph?" Draco asked quietly, sidling up beside them. "And does this have anything to do with why the Hufflepuffs were staring at us all period?"

Daphne pulled out a magazine from her bag and shoved it into his hands. "Witch Weekly thinks she's pregnant."

"Is she?"

"She says not."

Hermione barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot as she hissed, "She is standing right here! And no! I am not pregnant."

"Circe, don't get your knickers in a twist." Draco flipped open the magazine and then frowned. "Fuckers. Does Uncle Sev know?"

"Yes," she bit out. "That's why I was almost late to class."

"What did he say?"

Straightening the shoulder strap of her bag, Hermione inhaled sharply. "That time will prove the rumor false."

The wizard began to nod until Daphne crossed her arms and muttered, "Hardly."

Draco locked eyes with his fellow Slytherin for a moment before clearing his throat. "Daphne, will you deal with her for the time being? I need to visit the Owlery."

Daphne politely agreed to his request, while Hermione glared at him. "What? Are you running off to tell Daddy?"

The wizard snorted loudly. "You think my father knows how to handle rubbish like this? Please. It's Mother's opinion I'm interested in."

"Hermione, are you –"

"No."

"You're certain?"

"Yes."

"Did you check –"

"Did Madam Pomfrey –"

Hermione fixed each of the younger students surrounding her, in turn, with a dark glare. "Listen to me very carefully: No, I am not pregnant. Yes, I am absolutely certain of that fact. So, for the love of all that is holy, stop asking me!"

As the foursome disappointedly staggered off, the witch turned back to her meal only to find her appetite missing.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

She huffed loudly and shook her head. "I really hate people, you know."

"Are you going to start dressing in all black?" Ginny smirked. "Swooping about the corridors like a bat, calling everyone dunderheads?"

"It's a tempting prospect, I must admit." Hermione sighed, stabbing her fork into a tomato solely to watch its juice bleed out on the plate. "But no. I have to be the pleasant one."

"Between the two of you? That wouldn't be too hard to manage," Harry commented, glancing at Ron for agreement. Upon realizing that the ginger-haired wizard was ignoring the conversation entirely, he frowned and fell silent.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny set down her sandwich. "Cheer up, Hermione. The day's already half over."

"Only half over?" she lamented, resting her head on the table. "Can I not just skive off the rest of the day and hide in the dungeons?"

"Not if you want the gossip to die down, you can't."

Hermione exhaled loudly and sat up again. "Fine. But, no offense to you lot, I think I'll be eating with the staff until it does. At least when they start asking ridiculous questions, Severus tells them to bugger off."

"Why didn't you eat lunch with him, then?" Ginny asked.

"Because I was worried you all might think I was hiding things from you again," she explained. "I didn't want you to think that I'd wait to let Witch bloody Weekly inform you of my pregnancy."

A loud gasp interrupted whatever comments Harry and Ginny were about to make, prompting Hermione to turn quickly in her seat.

"So it is true, then?"

"Damnit, no!" Hermione snapped at the pair of eager-looking Hufflepuff witches who had dared enough to approach her. "I am not pregnant. Go back to your table and make sure everyone there knows that, alright?"

Noticing his wife sullenly staring at the table, Severus dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. He leaned toward her to murmur an instruction for her to eat.

"I'm not particularly hungry," Hermione protested.

The wizard flicked a glance past her shoulder to ensure that none of the staff were eavesdropping. "If you don't eat, especially given that you did not eat more than a few bites at luncheon, they are going to take that as an indication that you are suffering the symptoms of early pregnancy. So I don't care if you are or are not particularly hungry. Choke it down."

Fighting the urge to scowl, his wife gripped her fork tightly and looked up at him with a dangerous smile. "You know, if I didn't love you so much, I'd be tempted to stab you right now."

"I'm going to presume that's the hormones talking, darling," he retorted.

Irritated by the smug look on his face, Hermione glared at him for a moment before taking out her frustration on the rather pale chicken breast in the center of her plate. She could feel his eyes on her while taking the first bite, and she almost followed his instruction literally by choking on it. Narrowing her eyes in response to his barely audible chuckle, she took a sip of water before attempting a second bite. When that, too, was disappointingly bland, she sighed and resorted to pushing her vegetables around on her plate for a few minutes.

"Don't play with your food," Snape murmured beneath his breath as he raised his water goblet.

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered in return, prompting her husband to cough loudly into his water. He glared at her sharply before turning his attention toward Slytherin Table, where a few students appeared to be quarreling. With a smirk, Hermione took advantage of his distraction by spearing the small bit of chicken he had just cut from his plate. His gaze swung back to her as she haughtily popped it into her mouth.

"Oh my god," the witch gasped, covering her mouth as she chewed.

"Did no one tell you it's rude to speak with your mouth full?" Severus frowned, fending her off when she attempted to steal more of his food. "You have your own plate."

"Yes, but yours tastes better!" she argued.

"Don't be absurd. It's the same –"

"Then trade with me."

He narrowed his gaze. "I'm not going to acquiesce to your juvenile antics."

Undeterred, Hermione held up a bite of her own chicken in front of his face. When she did not obey his silent demand to cease her behavior, he exhaled loudly. Refusing to be fed like a child in front of the entire student population, he plucked the fork out of her hand. His eyes did not leave her face, and his expression did not alter as he chewed and swallowed the morsel.

"Well?" she asked as he returned her fork.

With a soft sigh, Snape pulled her plate out of the way and then replaced it with his own. When she merely stared at him in surprise, he gestured to it. "Eat."

"But what are you going to eat?"

He shrugged and sat back in his chair. "I can order something from the kitchens later."

"Well, I can do that, too."

"Eat."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione tucked into what remained on his plate.

"Did you manage to piss off the house elves somehow?" Severus questioned upon escorting her from the Great Hall after she finished eating. "Begin distributing misshapen hats again, perhaps?"

"No," she replied grumpily. "And I didn't realize you knew about that."

"I know about many things," he murmured while keeping his eyes on passing students. "Minerva was beside herself trying to negotiate with the elves to continue housekeeping in Gryffindor Tower. I suggested a few remedies for the situation, but those were ignored, of course. She wouldn't hear of stifling your political aspirations."

"I presume your remedy involved a detention or significant point loss?"

"A detention?" Snape quipped. "Hardly. I believe my suggestion was one for every hat."

His wife shook her head in disbelief. "I doubt you would have been so heavy-handed if it had occurred in your House."

A smirk came to his face. "It would not have occurred in my House, but I'll humor your assumption long enough to dispel it. How much commotion did you cause amongst your peers over that stunt?"

Remaining silent for several paces, at the feel of his questioning stare, Hermione eventually relented. "A fair bit."

"Now, imagine what might have transpired had you attempted it in the Slytherin dungeons?" When she winced, the wizard nodded. "For the sake of preserving peace in my House, a handful of detentions does not seem heavy-handed to me. Furthermore, removing points in that scenario would only further aggravate tensions within the House."

"I suppose that makes sense," she sighed, clutching his hand tighter while approaching a group of students loitering on the staircase.

"Do you think this the most appropriate venue for conversing?" Snape questioned, pausing just long enough to hear the students' muffled apologies.

Hermione peered over her shoulder to see the group of Hufflepuffs move off of the staircase, and then snorted to herself.

"What?"

She looked up at her husband. "Oh, I'm just impressed is all."

He frowned. "How so?"

"You managed to chastise non-Slytherin students without removing points or assigning detentions," she teased. "I was not aware that that was possible."

The wizard scowled down at her as they rounded a corner. "I assure you it's not a rare phenomenon."

"Well, I suppose they weren't Gryffindors…"

Snape stopped and turned. "Allow me to correct the inaction, then, on your behalf."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing hold of his arm. "I didn't mean that."

Seeing that the corridor was devoid of students, he shrugged out of her grasp and continued on his way toward their rooms. His wife cast an aggravated look to the ceiling before hustling after him. Once they were in their quarters, he made a beeline for his brewing lab.

"I thought you were going to order something to eat," the witch stated.

Severus paused with one hand on the door and looked back at her. "I'm not particularly hungry."

"But –"

"I neither want nor require you mothering me, Granger," he muttered before disappearing down the darkened stairwell.

Hermione glared at the door as it closed and then flopped onto the sofa. "Oh, but you can nag me to eat all you want."

After a moment, the witch sat up and looked around the sitting room. Seeing no sign of her familiar, she reasoned he was likely napping on her warm bed covers. Given that she needed someone to vent to about her miserable day, she went in search of Crookshanks. Stepping through the tapestry, she nudged her bedroom door open further. "Crooks? Are you in – what on Earth?"

There was no sign of the half-kneazle, but her bed was surrounded by neatly gathered bundles of dried herbs and twigs. Dangling from each of the bedposts by pale ribbons were smooth stones bearing strange carvings. They appeared to be runes of some sort, but not ones from any runic systems she had studied in Ancient Runes.

"Granger."

"Oh, cripes!" she hissed, clutching at her chest in surprise.

"Is there a particular reason you're loitering in the middle of my tapestry?"

Hermione briefly poked her head back into the sitting room and scowled at her husband. "Could you possibly not do that?"

Severus quirked his mouth in amusement. "To what do you refer?"

"Startling me!" she snapped. "You do it intentionally. I know you do, and it's completely unnecessary! Not to mention, rude."

He snorted. "Perhaps you could attempt to be more cognizant of your surroundings."

The girl rolled her eyes and gestured toward her room. "Well, perhaps you could attempt to explain what happened in there."

Brow furled in confusion, Snape followed her into her bedroom. As he stared at the mess cluttering up her space, a thought clicked into place. "Balls."

"What?"

"Interfering, little muppets," he snarled under his breath before spinning on his heel. "Come."

"What?" Hermione repeated, stumbling after him. "Where are –"

"The kitchens."

"You're hungry now? I thought –"

Her words were cut off when Severus snatched her wrist and tugged her through the Floo. Upon arriving in the kitchens, he quickly ascertained that there were no students lurking about and then turned to address the contingent of house-elves that had tripped over themselves to assist him. While under normal circumstances he would have enjoyed the unmistakably anxious looks cast in Granger's direction, he was too irritated at present. "Which one of you nimrods is in charge?"

Hermione gasped in indignation and yanked her arm out of his grasp.

"Melby is being in charge." An elderly house-elf dressed in a gold-trimmed tea towel hobbled forward. "How can Melby be helping Master Snape?"

"You've recently, without request, re-decorated my wife's bedroom…and made changes to her dietary plan. Is that correct?"

"Of course, Master Snape." Melby bowed slowly while the rest of the elves tittered with excitement. "We has been hearing of Madam Snape being with a wee one."

"Ohh…" Hermione whispered.

Severus swung his gaze toward her while the elderly house-elf continued explaining everything that she and the rest of the elves were prepared to do to assist in ensuring that baby Snape would be hale and hearty. "I told you the tables have ears."

As she nodded in understanding, he held up a hand to interrupt Melby and scowled at a younger elf that had the audacity to jump up and down with glee. "Madam Snape is not expecting a child."

A sudden tense silence fell over the room. Eventually, the elf who had done the jumping cocked its head. "Madam Snape isn't being with baby?"

Hoping to prevent the undoubtedly hostile comment her husband was about to utter, Hermione ducked out from behind him. "Erm, no. I promise you all I am not pregnant."

"But everyone be saying…"

"It was a rumor based on a gossip column in Witch Weekly," she explained. "There isn't any truth to it."

The young elf twitched, uncertain about approaching her. Seeing this, Severus snorted and leaned against a cabinet. "No reason to fret, elf. She promises not to knit you any awful hats."

Hermione glared at him until the feeling of a small, warm hand on her stomach distracted her. She watched the creature's eyes close in intense concentration.

"Tizzy isn't be feeling any wee one." The elf's ears drooped as it stepped back.

The Potions Master cleared his throat and looked to Melby. "I trust you will address this?"

"Melby is very sorry, Master Snape," she lamented, nodding emphatically. "Melby will punish herself most –"

"No!" Hermione cried. "Please don't punish yourself. You were just doing what you thought was best for… our child, so we could hardly be mad about that. Right, Severus?"

Sighing at her imploring gaze, the man nodded. "In the future, however, I would prefer it if you would consult with me –

Hermione coughed deliberately.

" – or my wife," he grumpily amended, "before making any changes to our routine."

"Of course, Master Snape! Melby herself will do the speaking with Master Snape."

Severus gave a stiff nod and made to move back to the Floo. He tried to ignore the look his wife was giving him and rolled his eyes when she opened her mouth.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but Professor Snape didn't get much at all for supper –"

"Ooh!" A shorter elf popped up and scampered around the edge of a cabinet. "Kitsit will feed Master Snape!"

"Motsy be helping Kitset!"

Though it did still bother her, Hermione found it oddly amusing to witness the elves rushing over each other to prepare a plate for the scowling Potions Master, who gruffly told them to deliver it to his office. Thanking the elves with a smile, she turned to follow the wizard until spotting her familiar perched on a bench. "Crookshanks!"

The half-kneazle responded with a meow and allowed her to pick him up.

"However did you get here?" she questioned, before tossing a suspicious glance at her husband, who stood impatiently at the fireplace.

"Perhaps you left the door open," Severus sneered before disappearing through the Floo.

Frowning, Hermione tightened her hold on her cat and then spun through the fireplace into their quarters. She glared at his retreating form. "I'm not promising not to knit you any awful hats."

The Slytherin glanced back at her as he opened the door to his office. "You will find, madam, that it will not be quite so simple to release me from my bonds."