Chapter 22: A Night Out

Headache blooming behind his eyes, Severus pushed into his office to find his young wife seated at his desk.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, looking up from her work. Hastily, she gathered her books, parchment, and supplies. "Sorry, I just… Sorry."

"Your class was dismissed early?"

The witch grimaced. "I didn't go."

"Miss Granger!" When she jolted and refused to meet his eye, her husband sighed. "Why didn't you attend…"

His face pinched in contemplation, recalling her schedule.

"Arithmancy," Hermione supplied, peeking up at him. "And it shouldn't be too hard to fathom why I didn't attend that particular class."

Severus frowned. "While Septima may be…difficult, you're going to have to grow thicker skin."

"Easy for you to say."

"Perhaps it is. Some of us never had the luxury of ever being liked by our professors."

Blinking in surprise, Hermione sank back onto his chair and felt bad for snapping at him.

"Are you planning to withdraw from Arithmancy?"

"No!"

Snape shrugged dismissively. "Well, if you cannot handle Septima –"

"I can handle her!" Hermione protested, irritated by the disapproval in his eyes. "Just not today, okay? I made it through lunch, which was awful enough, and Transfiguration. Obviously, no one was going to say anything aloud with Professor McGonagall in the room, but I couldn't stomach sitting through Arithmancy."

He folded his arms to his chest. "I don't understand why it would be worse today."

Unable to look at him, his wife ran her thumbnail along the arm of the chair. "Because as of today I'm no longer carrying your baby."

Brow narrowed, Severus recalled Narcissa's warning, but it seemed too soon for such stories. Only a week had passed since the pregnancy was first mentioned. "What?"

Hermione let out a puff of air and crossed her arms. "Apparently, it took True Love to curb my whorish ways. Too late, though, because I was already up the duff when I seduced you. And now you're too blinded by love to see I'm trapping you into raising someone else's bastard. Or maybe you do know but love me enough to accept the child anyway. There are varying interpretations."

Mouth parted in disbelief, Snape stared at her and then shook his head. "Never underestimate the depraved creativity of teenagers."

"Oh no," she spat. "That was published."

He frowned. "I didn't see anything like that in the Prophet."

Wordlessly, Hermione dug out a wrinkled copy of Spella Weekly from her bookbag. When she held it out to him, her husband gingerly picked up the magazine as though it might bite him. He flipped it open to the creased page and scowled at the piece written by some cancerous shit-monger named Garnet Labelle.

No doubt Wizarding Britain is spell-bound by the True Love match between Prof. Severus and Hermione Snape but let us not forget the Potions Master claimed his teenage bride due to incredible negligence and lack of supervision by Hogwarts staff. The illustrious (and likely senile) Headmaster Albus Dumbledore admitted he sought to hide the former Miss Granger's transgressions (not limited to the seduction of her professor) and only suggested legitimizing the relationship through marriage when the illicit affair was discovered.

Several sources now report the couple is expecting their first child (of many, undoubtedly) the first week of June. This seemingly disputes the veracity of claims made by the Snapes (and Dumbledore) regarding the onset of their intimacies. Mrs. Snape gave assurances she tried to prevent the natural conclusion of True Love's knowledge and testified her sexual relationship with her professor did not commence until October. How, then, do we account for their having conceived in late August or early September?

Given Mrs. Snape's rather sordid sexual history, it is likely she was impregnated sometime prior to her initial bonding with her husband, prior to her brewing of the Corazón Verdadero. Which leaves us wondering, just who is the father?

Severus's headache worsened as he skimmed through the rest of the article, which posited whether 'the attention-seeking Boy-Who-Cried-You-Know-Who', 'the illiterate Quaffle-brained Bulgarian', or one of the 'dopey-eyed Weasleys with manners as poor as their pocketbooks' could have sired the child.

Hermione sat rigid, her eyes trained on the corner of his desk.

Noticing her discomfort, Snape growled under his breath, crumpled the magazine, and stalked into their quarters. He lit a fire in the grate, opened a Floo connection to Malfoy Manor, and sent the responding elf to fetch its Mistress.

"Oh, Severus!" Narcissa exclaimed, somewhat breathlessly. "I was hoping you'd call."

"I need you –"

"Tonight, eight-thirty," she interrupted with a smile. "Remember to arrive early. No later than eight."

He nodded once. "Thank you, Narcissa."

"You're welcome, darling."

Curious over her husband's antics, Hermione trailed him into the sitting room in time to overhear his Floo conversation. As he cancelled the connection, she stared at him feeling confused and, strangely enough, a bit jealous. "What was that about?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at her tone. "It's our anniversary today. I had thought we would wait until Friday to celebrate our first month of marriage, but it appears we need to do so now."

"Now?"

"We're going out."

"Out?"

"Narcissa moved up our reservation."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Reservation?"

The wizard huffed loudly. "Are you going to stand there and parrot everything I say, or are you going to make yourself look presentable? I'm told it might take a few hours to tame that into submission."

Snarling at the insult to her hair, his wife moved toward her room.

"You are able to put it up on your own, or shall I request –"

"I can do my own hair, thank you," she snapped.

"The earrings Humboldt gave you need to be visible, and you should wear the plum-colored robes you purchased."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she reached the tapestry. "Do you intend to pick out my knickers as well, or might I be allowed some artistic license?"

"Not unless you're planning to put them on public display."

With a glare, she slammed her door behind her. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I put any knickers on display for you."

After showering and spending nearly an hour on her hair, Hermione stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. The plum dress robes were admittedly pretty, yet she was uncomfortable with how tightly they clung to her body. Plucking at the taut fabric over her abdomen, she worried whether the bit of cleavage it revealed was too risqué for Wizarding society. The saleswitch had not seemed to think so, instead cooing about how pleased her husband would be to see her in the robes. Truthfully, Hermione had only purchased the outfit because she was afraid to discard it after such a statement. It would have seemed strange for a new bride not to want to please her soul mate after all.

Realizing she needed to do her make-up, Hermione left her room just as Snape was exiting the lavatory. His hair was damp, and his half-buttoned shirt was untucked over his trousers.

"Do you have an opinion on my shoes?"

"I trust your judgement." He entered his bedroom without looking at her.

"Now he trusts it," the witch grumbled, snagging her small cosmetic bag and returning to her room.

Once finished, Hermione put in her earrings, which had been charmed with a slight flutter. Watching them in the mirror for a moment, she quirked a smile and took down her hair. She pinned half of it back in a fashion that kept the earrings visible but made her feel slightly rebellious. She then donned the pair of grey T-strap heels the saleswitch had all but thrown at her, took in a deep breath, and left to face her husband.

Severus, dressed similarly to their wedding day, was slowly pacing the sitting room.

"Well?" His wife held her chin high but, when she noticed a pained look cross his face, self-consciously tugged at her clothes. "I can change, if –"

"No. No, that'll do."

The wizard held up a dark maroon coat, and Hermione frowned. "That's not mine."

"I know. You're borrowing it for the evening."

"Borrowing it from whom?"

Severus ignored the question as he assisted her into the velvet coat.

"Please don't tell me this is Mrs. Malfoy's."

"Then I won't tell you," he smirked before collecting his own traveling robes.

Though she groaned in disgust, Hermione attempted to fasten the large silver buttons. When she realized it was impossible to breathe with it fully buttoned, she opted to leave it undone. Merlin knows the Malfoys will probably turn me into a coat if I pop a button or rip a stitch.

"Shall we?" Snape asked.

"You promise there's food involved in this venture?" When he nodded, she accepted his proffered arm. "Thank god, because I am starving."

Leaving school grounds, Severus apparated them into Diagon Alley with an astonishingly loud bang. Hermione, aware of the gossip their last outing had prompted, blushed at all the attention they attracted from passersby. She was surprised at being led up a stone staircase nestled in beside Twilfit & Tattings. A sign on the stone wall indicated they were approaching Vertic Alley.

"I've never been up here before," she exclaimed. "I didn't even know this existed!"

Snape tugged her closer to allow an older, affluently-dressed couple more room to pass them. "It isn't a large area – far smaller than either Diagon or Knockturn – and is predominately frequented by those who enjoy looking down upon the common wizard."

Hermione peered over the stone balcony at the evening crowd milling about Diagon Alley. "Literally."

They paused at the top of the stone steps, so she could take note of their surroundings. Vertic Alley primarily consisted of a single line of shops, including a tea parlor, an art gallery, and a jewelry store. On the end was a white stone building that had navy blue awnings with twinkling stars and large gleaming windows, which reflected the lights and sky.

It was toward this building they ambled. The door opened at their approach and above the entrance the word 'Celestial' hovered in glittering script. Inside, the reception area boasted a silver-streaked marble floor and benches covered with plush, dark blue cushions.

Gawking at the twinkling décor and charmed ceiling, Hermione missed the maître d's initial panic at their arrival. Upon noticing the frenzied staff, she slipped out of her coat and self-consciously folded it in front of her.

With a grunt, Severus took the coat from her hands. "Is your wand on your person?"

The witch shivered as he whispered in her ear. She made a movement, but he stilled her arm.

"Don't show me. Yes or no will suffice."

"Yes."

Nodding, Severus checked the coat and his traveling cloak with an elf. Seeing his wife had crossed her hands in front of her, he sighed and claimed one of her hands. Gently enough so as not to look like force, he positioned her in front of his body and slowly ran his hands over her arms to keep them at her side. As she stiffened in his grasp, he lowered his lips to the side of head. "We're here so everyone sees you. Hiding will not suit our purpose."

Glancing up at him, Hermione realized why she had been instructed to wear the tightest fitting outfit in her wardrobe. Though it was unnerving Snape must have gone through her clothes, she was grateful to have his support.

When the maître d' led them through the narrow aisles toward a table in front of a large window, Hermione tightly gripped her husband's hand and forced herself to smile at everyone she passed. Cognizant that nearly every eye in the restaurant was trained on her, she blushed when her husband pulled out her chair.

The elder maître d' was immediately replaced by a young waiter, who nearly tripped over himself when Snape's dark gaze swung in his direction. Hermione smirked, certain the man had been a former student by the fearful manner in which he addressed the Potions Master.

"Wine? For the lady?" The waiter's eyes swung toward Hermione, who barely managed to hide her own surprise.

Disinterestedly, Severus propped open his menu. "Darling, is there any reason you shouldn't be allowed a glass of wine?"

A slow grin crept across her face. "Not at all, my love. I would very much enjoy one."

When the waiter hesitantly glanced between them, Snape cleared his throat. "Is there a particular reason you're dawdling, Smethwyck?"

"N-no, sir. Apologies, sir." The waiter bowed and hurried away to the kitchen.

Shortly thereafter, a glass of wine popped onto the table beside Hermione's water goblet. When nothing arrived for Snape, she glanced at him in confusion.

"You're not joining me?"

"No," he replied. "And I suggest you drink it slowly. I'm not purchasing you a second glass. Even if I could afford it."

Sipping her wine, Hermione glanced down at her own menu. "On that note, I don't know how much anything is."

"Whatever it is, it'll cost a month's salary. Order what you want."

She raised an eye to him. "This isn't coming out of my portion?"

Closing his menu, Severus shook his head. "I can afford to feed you. For now."

A laugh escaped her as she weighed her options. Almost as soon as she set down her menu, the waiter reappeared and very carefully took down Snape's order. When he asked for hers, Hermione politely requested the lamb.

The waiter flicked his eyes to Snape, who sighed and steepled his fingers. "You heard her as well as I did, Smethwyck."

"Err, right. Of course, sir."

Ears burning, Hermione waited until Smethwyck had darted away again. "I take it I'm not to place my own order?"

Severus shook his head before taking a sip of water.

Pinching her lips together to keep from swearing, Hermione glanced about the restaurant. "They're all watching us."

"Mmm," her husband grunted. "I imagine that's why they placed us here… so they can all goggle at the freakshow whilst shoving their faces."

"We're not a freakshow," she objected.

Snape arched an eyebrow.

Hermione frowned at him but slid a hand across the table to meet his. "You really don't want to be here, do you?"

He eyed their conjoined hands, wishing to remove his but unable to do so given their audience. "Not particularly."

The witch studied him over her wine. "You don't want to be seen with me?"

His eyes tightened. "It isn't you, Gr—Hermione."

"We didn't have to come here."

"Oh, I've been assured we did," he sneered.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "How long until a camera arrives?"

"I'm certain there's already one here. No doubt Narcissa alerted her gossipmonger du jour that we would arrive early."

She looked back to him and leaned into the table. "Then shouldn't you be smiling? Like you actually enjoy being in the company of your one true love?"

Severus snorted under his breath, then raised her hand to his lips.

Hermione blushed while watching their hands return to the table. Curiosity emboldened by the wine, she traced her fingertips over his hand, noting his long, slender fingers were slightly-calloused and his silver wedding band was warm to the touch. Feeling his gaze on her, she peeked up and offered a shy apology before moving her hand back to her wineglass. She was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of their food.

As she cut into her lamb, however, she realized he was still staring at her with an apprehensive expression on his face. "What? Are you supposed to chop up my food for me, too?"

Her husband jerked a bit in his seat as if shocked back into reality by her question. Clearing his throat, he picked up his own utensils and focused his eyes on his plate. "Don't be absurd."

"And yet, somehow, I don't feel the absurd one in this establishment."

Snape's eyes wandered to an older witch wearing coquelicot robes embellished with feathers. "Obviously not."

After trading the customary inquiries about how they each found their meal, Hermione looked out the window. She was surprised to note that beyond the rooftops of Diagon Alley, Muggle London could be seen in the distance. "I can see why the view might draw people in."

"I don't doubt eyeing their money while eating would appeal to these people," Severus murmured.

His wife glanced at him, then followed his gaze to where Gringott's stood tall and brightly lit. "Not what I meant."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Reasoning still stands."

Hermione studied the morose wizard across from her. Though he had far greater experience with the Wizarding world and pureblood culture, he seemed more uncomfortable than she was in their present environment. She thought again of his home, cramped and shabby in a rundown Muggle neighborhood. Given the age and state of the furnishings, it was likely he had either grown up there or inherited it in some fashion. Furthermore, the rather spartan, utilitarian nature of his wardrobe – he appeared only to have the one set of dress robes – and quarters and his previous comments regarding finances suggested an impoverished background.

Yet somehow Snape had befriended the Malfoys, who flaunted their wealth and connections at every opportunity. They did not seem the type to even associate with a young wizard from a family poor in both wealth and reputation, but they had trusted him enough to name him godfather to their heir.

"Something wrong?"

"Sorry, I was just… lost in thought." Hermione slowly sipped her wine. "So… how long have you known the Malfoys?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It seems they're going to be more involved in my life than I'd ever expected or hoped, so I should probably know something about them. Wouldn't you agree?"

Severus shifted in his seat. "Lucius was the Prefect assigned to me when I entered Hogwarts."

"You had a Prefect assigned to you?" The witch tilted her head in amusement. "Were you a particularly troublesome first year?"

"Decidedly less problematic than you were, Miss Granger," he retorted. "All first-year Slytherins are assigned a Prefect and meet with them monthly."

"Really?" she asked, setting down her fork.

"It is meant to help the first years adjust to Hogwarts and to being separated from their families, to ensure they have someone to come to should they need advice, assistance, or tutoring. Students are often more comfortable speaking to other students, rather than their Head of House. Should my Prefects learn of any serious matters, however, they will bring their concerns to me."

"Why don't the other Houses do that?"

"Hufflepuff has a similar system, though it's more voluntary than compulsory. Ravenclaw has a tutoring program, which is organized by their Prefects," he replied. "Gryffindor does not require any such scheme since its students are noble enough to do it on their own as is necessary. Or so I've been told."

Hermione flushed and dropped her eyes. "Not exactly. Students theoretically know they can seek out Prefects, but mainly we just enforce rules and dock points for misbehavior."

"Allegedly," Snape muttered under his breath.

The young witch shook her head. "I should have been more approachable. I knew how difficult it was as a first year but didn't even think to check in with any of them."

Severus touched her hand to catch her attention. "I didn't mean it as a criticism of you personally. I suspect if you hadn't had to fend off Potter and Weasley from copying your essays, you would have had more energy to dedicate toward other students."

Hermione laughed and met his eyes. "It's not even worth trying to defend them, is it?"

"No. Even Minerva agreed that words like 'evanescent' and 'paucity' were not ones either of them would be able to define, let alone spell, on their own."

"Merlin." She hid her eyes behind her hand. "I tried to stop them but eventually gave up."

"Well… I suppose it isn't as though they'll have to do anything academic as professional Quidditch players."

The witch narrowed her eyes at his scoffing tone. "They're planning to become Aurors actually."

"Without a Potions NEWT?" Severus guffawed and picked up his glass. "I look forward to seeing how well that works out for them. Granted, the Headmaster will undoubtedly attempt to pull whatever strings he may have."

Hermione sighed in frustration, realizing she had allowed him to steer conversation away from the discussion of his friends. Once she had finished her meal, she leaned her arms on the table and smirked. "So… you went to school with Lucius Malfoy."

Her husband groaned. "For a year, yes. Three years with Narcissa, though we scarcely spoke to one another until she married. Lucius kept tabs on me throughout my schooling and later encouraged me to pursue my Mastery. He convinced his uncle to employ me during the summer months as soon as I was old enough to do so."

"And asked you to be Draco's godfather," she added, trying to reconcile this characterization of Lucius Malfoy with the smug Death Eater she had met. "Did they choose you because you could keep him out of trouble at Hogwarts?"

"No. Draco was more than a year old when I began teaching." He smoothed his hand over the tablecloth before deciding to respond further. "Lucius had no siblings, and neither of Narcissa's sisters were viable candidates. While others befriended him because of his wealth, I was the only one who did so in spite of it. Thus, I was deemed trustworthy enough not to endanger or take advantage of their son should a misfortunate fate befall them both."

Hermione could not help the smile that formed. "Well, I think they made a wise choice."

"Oh, do you?" he sneered.

"Mm, I do." She glanced down at the dessert menu, which had appeared between them. Though she was quite full, she seized the opportunity to tease her sullen husband. "We could feed each other chocolate torte."

His eyes snapped to her in horror.

"I'm kidding!" she giggled, shaking her head. "Honestly, I couldn't eat another bite."

Snape cleared his throat. "Were you ready to leave then?"

Though they had not been there terribly long, Hermione was just as eager to escape the spotlight as he was. With any luck, their spectators would assume their haste to leave was due to more romantic reasons. To encourage that assumption, she pressed herself into her husband as he helped her out of her chair and whispered, "I have to wee first."

Severus snorted in surprise. "Good gods, woman."

While he settled their bill, Hermione ducked into the lavatory and was grateful to find it entirely unoccupied. That soon changed, for upon emerging from the water closet, she found a willowy blonde woman standing beside the sink.

"Madam Snape!" She beamed, stepping forward and holding out her hand. "Lovely to meet you!"

"Erm, just a moment," Hermione mumbled awkwardly, hurrying toward the sink to wash her hands. "Sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize!" the witch giggled. "Forgive me for not fully considering our surroundings before pouncing on you like this. Having experienced five years of scolding by Professor Snape, I had no wish to interrupt your dinner, but I just had to tell you how smashing you look tonight!"

"Oh, erm… thank you, Ms…"

"Bishop," she replied, limply shaking hands. "Sedelia Bishop, for Witch Weekly's 'Which Witch Wore What Where' column."

"Oh, I -

"I couldn't help but notice your earrings, Madam Snape," the reporter interrupted, pulling out a small writing pad. "They're fetchingly unique."

Hermione unconsciously touched her ear and did her best to channel Lavender Brown. "Yes, I… Well, I suppose everyone really has seen me admiring the jeweled flutterwings. I'd never seen them before and thought they were incredibly beautiful. It wasn't until after that article came out that I knew what they were used for! Although my dear husband tells me the jeweled variety aren't nearly as useful as the pastels in brewing."

"He would know, wouldn't he?" Bishop quipped.

"Indeed! Anyway, Aethon Malfoy – the proprietor of Humboldt's – noticed my interest and had these earrings fashioned for me as sort of a late wedding gift. I've been dying for an excuse to wear them actually."

Hermione watched the woman scribble something down. "Forgive me, Miss Bishop, but my husband is waiting."

"Of course!" The woman stepped out of the way of the door. "I'm certain you and the Professor have many special plans for the rest of the evening?"

"Well, it is our one-month anniversary." Hermione quirked a grin as she returned to the reception area to find her husband similarly waylaid by another member of the press. Hoping to rescue him – and avoid additional questions herself – she quickened her step.

At his wife's approach, Severus held up her borrowed jacket and helped her into it. She thanked him quietly and, as he tucked her arm into his, stretched up to kiss his cheek. He stiffened at the action but otherwise played along, leading her out of the restaurant and toward the stone balcony. There they paused to look at the stars, and he slipped his arm more securely about her waist.

"Have they appeared yet?"

"Hmm?" Hermione turned into his embrace and glanced over his shoulder. Noticing the reporters quietly slipping out of the restaurant with a third man wielding a large camera, she nodded against his chin. "You should probably kiss me."

"What?" he hissed. "Why?"

"It's our anniversary, we had a lovely meal, the sky is beautiful, and you love me," she explained. "But more importantly, they have a camera."

He huffed into her hair, turning slightly. "Fine. Place your arms around my neck and remain still."

His wife snickered while following his instructions. "Is that what you tell all the women you snog?"

"Only the ones who annoy the ever-loving piss out of me," Snape murmured, hovering above her parted lips. He flicked his gaze toward the camera, raised his lips in a devious smirk, and disapparated with a crack.

A second later, the couple silently popped into existence outside of the Hogwarts wards. An unattractive noise escaped Hermione as she staggered back and grabbed hold of a tree for support. "God…damn it! A warning would've been nice!"

"I did say you should remain still." He stepped away, desperate for fresh air and space.

"Oh, no you don't!" she hissed, snatching his arm. "You're going to stay here until I can stand upright without vomiting."

Severus crossed his arms, keeping his eyes trained on the staff gate. The manner in which the girl bent over to regain her composure provided an unobstructed view down the bodice of her dress. It would not do for him to ogle her rather shapely breasts. "Be thankful you only had the one glass of wine."

"That's why?" Hermione heaved in several breaths until her vision stopped swimming. She tentatively straightened and took a step forward. When she did not fall over, she shoved at the wizard's arm. "You knew that would happen! Why would you do that?"

"I did not know it would affect you to so great an extent." He yanked open the rusty gate and gestured her inside. "However, I had good reason."

"Oh, did you?"

"Everything you displayed tonight could be explained away by someone malicious enough to try. Your trim figure could be due to an elaborate glamour or it's simply too early in your pregnancy to be showing. Your earrings wouldn't exclude the possibility that we also purchased flutterwings in preparation for a gender reveal potion. While many avoid it completely, some witches will consume an occasional glass of wine or brandy during their pregnancy."

Snape paused at the door to the castle. "However, no pregnant witch – unless in immediate, mortal danger – would dare use Apparition because of the high risk of splinching the fetus. No expectant father would dare risk the safety of his wife or unborn child by using Side-Along. So, when every subscriber of the Prophet sees that photo plastered on the front page…"

All but forgetting her previous ire, Hermione threw her arms about him in an enthusiastic hug. "Thank you."

Severus stiffly separated himself from his wife. "I would avoid any Weasley jumpers unless you wish to spur another round of gossip."

"Noted," Hermione grinned, following him into the castle.

"I have to brew for the infirmary," Snape stated as soon as they were ensconced within their quarters. He wished her a good night and beat a hasty retreat down to his lab where he immediately collapsed on a stool. Exhaling a deep breath, he pulled on his hair and rubbed his hands over his face.

He cursed himself for telling Hermione to wear the dress, which had clung to her seductively. The wine and attention had brought an attractive flush to her cheeks, and her eyes practically sparkled – though it could have been a reflection of the ceiling – as she teased him. It had not mattered he only drank water for the scents that had assailed him every time she pressed herself against him were intoxicating. And when she had instructed him to kiss her…

"Fuck!" Severus slammed his fist down on the bench. She was eighteen and still a student. Despite the ring he wore, he had no business appreciating the slender curve of her neck or contemplating how well her breasts would fit in his hands. He needed to maintain better control, to keep his distance, and to stay focused on his multitude of responsibilities.

With that in mind, the wizard stood up and cast aside his traveling cloak and dress robes. He heaved a large cauldron onto the bench and set into preparing his ingredients.

For the first time in a month – or ever, truthfully – Hermione anticipated the delivery of the Daily Prophet. When an owl finally dropped off her copy, Snape caught it mid-air, preventing the upheaval of any breakfast items. He handed it to her, and she quickly unrolled the periodical.

There, below the fold, was the photograph just as predicted.

Despite knowing otherwise, the young witch could not deny how intimate they appeared with her arms locked around his neck and his about her waist. Smiling up at him, she appeared to whisper something which inspired him to lower his mouth to hers. He had not actually kissed her, but the angle of the photo disguised the truth. And then they were gone, leaving naught but the night sky in their absence.

"Ugh, they've done it again," Hermione groaned. "Snapes' Sensual Celestial Celebration."

Severus sighed over his coffee mug.

"They can't help themselves, can they?" she asked, reading the byline. "Pregnancy proclamations prove premature."

"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath.

"Not right now, darling." Hermione smirked at his glare, then skimmed through the article describing their anniversary dinner.

"While children may be an eventual reality, we will not consider it until Madam Snape has finished her education," Snape stated when asked if he was eagerly anticipating the expansion of their family. Though their relationship and marriage may have been unavoidable due to the circumstances, the professor – to little surprise – firmly believes "Hogwarts certification ought to come before motherhood."

Anxious to attend his new bride, Master Snape was reluctant to comment further. When pressed on some of the rumors swirling about the young Madam Snape, however, he had this to say: "As only Madam Snape and I have any knowledge of [Madam Snape's] sexual history, it is no one's business but ours." He ended the interview, warning that "irresponsible journalism" may discourage the couple from granting further access into their private lives.

Hermione's heart pounded as she re-read her husband's statement. Essentially, he had declared she came to his bed a virgin. Although she would have preferred not having her sex life as fodder for public consumption, a published defense of her virtue was more than she expected under the circumstances.

Beaming, she dropped the paper and leaned over to kiss Snape's cheek. He had turned his head, however, at her surprised gasp. As a result, her lips landed squarely on his mouth instead.

Embarrassed, Hermione withdrew and flashed a nervous smile. "Erm, I just… thank you."

Severus nodded uncomfortably and turned his attention back to his breakfast.