A/N: As always, love and appreciate your reviews!

Chapter 24: Until It Hits Home

Hermione jerked awake at a whooshing sound. Blinking slowly, she pieced together her surroundings and remembered she was waiting for Snape's return. Realizing the sound she heard was the Floo, she scrambled up from the sofa.

There was no sign of her husband in the sitting room.

But I definitely heard the Floo.

Snape's bedroom door was ajar, so Hermione cautiously crept toward it. She could not remember if he closed it before leaving. When she found the room empty, she tried to dispel the nervous feeling that someone had entered their quarters without permission. Her gaze swept quickly about the room, halting on the dark robes tossed in a pile on the floor beside his bed.

Recognizing them as his death eater robes, Hermione sagged against the door. If the robes were here, Severus must be back. She must have heard him Flooing into the Headmaster's Office, then.

After closing the door to keep Crookshanks out, the witch reclaimed her spot on the sofa. She felt a bit chilled after losing the warmth of sleep and wrapped her arms tightly about her waist. Glancing up at the clock on the mantle, she realized Snape had been gone more than three hours.

Anything could have happened to him in three hours.

When another half hour passed without his arrival, Hermione paced a few turns in front of the fireplace. Since Snape was back in the castle, she deemed it safe enough to enter his office. At his desk, she gathered up the scarf she had childishly tossed away, checking it carefully to make sure it had not soaked up any ink. She tidied up the overturned jar of quills and straightened his papers before returning to their quarters.

The witch neatly folded the warm scarf while she walked, then tiptoed into his bedroom to place it on his bed.

Exhausted, Severus stumbled through the Floo to encounter his very much awake wife.

"Severus! Are you alright?"

He groaned at her loud approach, lamenting she was not still asleep as when he first arrived. "I'm fine, Granger. Go to bed."

"Things are alright?" Hermione followed him toward his room.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

"Was it a normal, erm, meeting?"

He huffed loudly. "There is nothing normal about meeting with the Dark Lord."

Her face flushed. "That was a stupid question, I realize. But, well… you were gone a while."

Severus rubbed his forehead and glanced at the clock. "That is normal. If you'll excuse me."

Without hearing her reply, the wizard strode into his bedroom and closed the door. He stripped out of his robes and chucked them at the chair. Glaring at the dark cloak on the floor, he snatched it up, shoved it in the bottom of his wardrobe, and slammed the wardrobe door shut - twice, for good measure. He grabbed the scarf from his bed and tossed it at the chair with his robes, before collapsing on the edge of his mattress.

Severus held his head in his hands for a moment before slowly removing his boots. He then flopped back on the bed, eventually undoing his belt.

Once he heard his wife leave the lavatory and retire to her own bedroom, the wizard hauled his aching body up and into the bathroom. There he removed the rest of his clothes before stepping into the hot spray of the shower. Closing his eyes, he let the water cascade down his body and wished it were only that easy to rid himself of the Dark Lord's stench.

Don't deceive yourself. You'll never be free of it. You'll keep digging deeper and deeper until it kills you.

Frustrated, Severus slapped the tile, splashing water into his face. In his mind, he pictured the panicked expression that had been on Hermione's face when he had left for the summons and when he had returned. Clearly, she had been concerned about his safety, and he should not have been so short-tempered with her. After facing both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, however, he had no energy left to deal with interrogations. Honestly, he had no energy left at all.

The only silver lining to the whole affair was it was now Sunday morning. Severus could claim at least a few hours of rest before he had to start brewing for the infirmary. During the downtime after all ingredients had been prepped, he could fit in some marking. After he got the seventh years' essays put to rest, then perhaps he might have some time and energy left for figuring out what to do about the Dark Lord's latest request.

Taking care to make as little sound as possible, Hermione brought her Arithmancy materials out to the sitting room sofa. When her stomach growled sometime later, she looked to Snape's bedroom door. Given how late he had returned from Dumbledore's office, she had no wish to disturb his sleep but also did not want to go up to the Great Hall on her own. The Gryffindor loss was still too fresh to trust her friends' reactions.

Once her Arithmancy essay was finished, Hermione quietly placed an order for breakfast through the fireplace. She winced when the tray arrived on the end table with a clatter, but no sound emerged from his bedroom.

After breakfast, the witch read through her essay again. Envisioning the distasteful expression on Vector's face during yesterday's match, she decided a complete revision was necessary to ensure it was as well-written as possible.

While working, Hermione looked at the clock and once more to Snape's door. It was nearing eleven, and she was somewhat surprised that Snape was still abed. Though the wizard undoubtedly deserved a lie-in after his night out, she had never witnessed him sleeping this late.

Right, because you've become an expert in Severus Snape's sleeping habits in the five weeks you've lived with him.

Recalling the lengthy list of responsibilities Snape had spouted, though, Hermione wondered if she should wake him.

Will he be in a worse temper if I wake him prematurely or if he oversleeps and neglects his tasks? The witch rubbed her feather quill against her chin as she contemplated her quandary. If he isn't up by noon, I can at least rouse him to ask if he'd like to join me for lunch.

Likely he would snap at her again. Although it was irritating, Hermione could not truly bring herself to be entirely angry at him for it. Whether he returned unscathed or not, Severus could not possibly know what lay in store for him when responding to a summons. Voldemort was obviously not a tea-and-biscuits type of leader, so she could only imagine the horrible things Snape might have to face during his meetings.

"…at this time yesterday, he was facing the probability of death… I think he'd much prefer marrying you than being murdered in the middle of a pack of Death Eaters."

Hermione remembered how blasé Snape had seemed about his summoning after Rita Skeeter's first article had been published. She could not believe, however, that he had been that calm internally. How does he feel when he stands before Voldemort? Is he frightened? Does he worry? As exceptional an Occlumens as he is, he must feel something underneath his shields, right? The man's unnerved by a fancy restaurant, for Merlin's sake.

A sudden rustling sound behind her startled Hermione out of her thoughts and out of her seat. When Severus appeared from behind his laboratory door, she shot a glance at his bedroom and then back at him.

"Are you always this jumpy?" he questioned in amusement.

"I thought you were asleep!"

Severus frowned. "It's nearly mid-day."

"I know that," she groused. "But I've been awake for hours and never saw or heard you."

The wizard adjusted the large basket of potions he carried, causing the glass vials to rattle. "I started brewing at seven."

"Seven?" she gaped. "You didn't get in until three!"

Snape sighed as he moved toward his office. "I am aware."

Uncertain as to why she did, Hermione followed him. "Severus, you've had less than four hours sleep."

"I can do maths," he growled, setting the basket on his desk. "I do not understand, however, why you see the need to harp on about this."

His wife crossed her arms. "You've made my sleeping and eating habits your business. Why can't I do the same?"

"Because I neither require nor appreciate your nagging."

"Fine." Hermione shoved away from his desk before pausing in the doorway. She looked back to see him scratch a note in his ledger. His shoulders were tense, and his lack of sleep was obvious in his color and carriage. Rubbing her neck, she knew she should not take his sniping personally. "Would you be similarly unappreciative of my assistance?"

Snape peered over his shoulder. "What?"

"I could help prepare ingredients."

"Prep is done, and your brewing skills are not developed enough to manage the rest."

The young witch winced and then rolled her eyes.

"If you are in need of something to do, you could take these to the infirmary," he muttered. "Madam Pomfrey can show you where the storeroom is."

"Alright." Hermione stepped forward to collect the covered basket. It was heavier than it looked, but she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle.

Severus nodded sharply at her while she lugged it toward the fireplace. "I'll have another ready by quarter to one."

"Could you at least open the Floo for me?"

Relenting, the wizard strode past her to the fireplace. "Lest you be tempted to fall on old habits, Madam Pomfrey and I keep meticulous inventory records."

Hermione glared at him as she stepped into the fireplace. As she was swallowed up in green flames, she shouted, "Maybe you should take a nap!"

"Oh, I cannot count how many times I've told him the very same," Madam Pomfrey snickered as the young witch stumbled out of her office fireplace.

Using her thigh for leverage, Hermione lifted the potion basket higher. "Sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

"No, no. I understand the sentiment entirely. One can love the man without standing for his moods." The Matron moved closer. "Here, let me help with that. He's particular about preventing excess magic from coming into contact with his potions. Makes for a far more potent brew, of course, but a pain to deal with on the back end."

Pomfrey took hold of one handle and led Hermione through to the infirmary storeroom. There, the girl could not help but feel a certain sense of awe as she eyed the shelves. It was as tidy and organized as Snape's personal storeroom, but the variety of potion hues and glittering glass containers was far more impressive. She could only imagine how beautiful it all would look in the sunlight. But then he'd bitch about the windows again.

A chime pinged, and Madam Pomfrey wiped her hands on her apron. "I'll have to see to that. You'll be able to figure out where they go based on what's left on the shelf. Rarely does he let my stock go completely empty."

Hermione nodded at the Healer, then knelt and undid the ties on the basket lid. Carefully, she relocated all the vials to their correct locations on the shelves. Once finished, she let out a deep breath and once more swept her gaze around the tiny room. Snape claimed he was solely responsible for stocking the infirmary, which meant at some point he had brewed, bottled, and delivered every item within view. The amount of time it must have taken him to do so seemed astronomical.

The witch picked up a flask of Sleeping Draught from the shelf nearest her. The deep purple color was so clear and vibrant, one might expect to find it in a jeweled necklace or tiara. It certainly looked more appealing than any of the Sleeping Draughts she had ever brewed. Returning the potion, she wondered if Snape ever had time to appreciate his work.

Doubtful. He doesn't seem to appreciate much. With a sigh, Hermione collected the empty basket and closed the storeroom.

"Here," Snape grunted, pushing a small stack of letters in front of his wife.

Hermione wiped her hands on her napkin before picking up the first one. "Do you still get this many fan letters every day?"

"You seek to start the week with a pissing contest?" he sneered over his coffee.

The witch rolled her eyes. "I'm not being competitive; I'm just curious."

"My junk mail has tapered off," Severus finally answered.

"It's not junk mail," she argued. Not exactly.

"Unsolicited nonsense, invites, and adverts," he grumbled. "I beg to differ."

Hermione exhaled loudly. "Some of it's rather sweet."

The wizard scoffed and turned to respond to a question posed to him by Professor Sprout. When he later sensed an odd tension emanating from his wife, he looked back to see Hermione frowning at the table. "What?"

"Hmm?" Hermione raised her eyes to his face. "Sorry, I… I just wondered why I still receive all of this, but you don't."

Severus snorted. "Besides the obvious?"

"What, have you been taking points and assigning detention through the post?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "A tempting thought. I may have informed a few budding journalists where they could stick their special interest."

"Severus!" Hermione leaned into him and whispered, "Do you not recall how we got into this mess?"

He sighed and fiddled with his fork.

"Maybe I should be the one censoring your mail."

"If you want to take on the business correspondence in addition to the social ones, by all means." Severus picked up his mug. "You'll have no quarrels from me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Hold on. Is that… that's why I'm getting all of this crap, and you aren't?"

The wizard cocked his head. "Well, some of it's… rather sweet."

Her mouth parted in irritation, but she soon crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "This means I'm in charge of your social calendar?"

His gaze tightened. "Only with my approval."

"Well, in that case, I'll be sure to run my ideas past Professor Dumbledore first."

"Fff.." Snape shifted in his chair and fixed his eyes on the Slytherin table.

Hermione could practically see the curse words forming on his lips, though they died away without being voiced. She assumed it would be different had they been in the privacy of their quarters rather than on display at the Head Table.

Her amusement died, however, as her gaze returned to the letters in front of her. Not entirely sure why she had fibbed about her troubled mood to Snape, Hermione discretely fished out a Muggle-style envelope from the middle of the stack. She knew it was from her parents based on the handwriting and that it was addressed to her maiden name.

No doubt they were seeking an answer regarding her preferences for the coming holiday. They had written the previous week on the subject, but Hermione had yet to reply. She felt guilty for not responding but was not prepared yet to tell them about her unexpected change in marital status.

Similarly, the witch had yet to brave the discussion about holiday plans with Severus. She knew he was usually present at Hogwarts for meals over holiday but did not know if he went anywhere during the day. It was also possible his family would have different expectations following his marriage. That induced another dose of anxiety for all she knew of the Snape family was that they held to strict pureblood traditions and had a poor enough reputation that it would not be sullied by his marrying a muggleborn.

Shoving all her mail into her robes pocket, Hermione picked up her water goblet. Her parents' letter could wait until after classes. By then she might gather enough courage to broach the subject with her husband. Perhaps they could arrange for her to spend some time with her parents, while he laid low and out of sight of any prying eyes.

Merlin forbid we have to explain why newlywed soul mates spent the holidays apart.

After ousting the last pair of second-year Ravenclaws from his classroom, Severus carried the crate of their attempts at Swelling Solution into his office. A cursory look suggested only a few flasks would need to be tested for efficacy; the rest were obviously not Swelling Solutions.

At least I'll save time marking. Rubbing a crick out of his shoulder, he decided it worthwhile to have the class repeat the exercise during the next session. He cast a Tempus charm and determined he had enough time to use the lavatory before collecting Hermione from the library for supper.

"What did you do to the chit?" Caitriona Selwyn exclaimed upon his entrance.

Severus glared at the portrait. "What in blazes are you on about now?"

"Your Muggle wife comes sobbing through here, and you had nothing to do with it?"

The wizard pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin's sake, you wench. She appeared fine when I observed her at lunch with her alleged friends, and I've been teaching all afternoon. Whatever the hell her problem is today, it wasn't me."

The painted witch looked unaffected. "She's in her room."

"Fine. I'll see to her in a moment." Snape strode into the restroom, having no desire to deal with a crying witch on a full bladder.

After washing his hands, he paused a moment in front of the sink. Popping open the medicine cabinet, he noted no pain relievers or headache reducers had been consumed since he had taken one last evening. He closed the cabinet, then hesitantly cracked open the door of his wife's bathroom cupboard. The pink boxes he had evicted from the original cupboard were haphazardly stacked but otherwise provided no clues as to their last use.

Standing upright, the wizard closed his eyes and counted back the dates. It had only been a fortnight or so since Granger had completed her last menstrual cycle, so he tentatively concluded that was not the cause of her current distress. It was Wednesday, though, which meant Arithmancy. Perhaps Septima had taken out her frustration whilst marking the girl's essay.

The animosity from Gryffindor House had died down enough for Granger to brave the noon meal with her counterparts. It was always possible, of course, that Potter or Weasley had demonstrated their limited intelligence and upset the witch. Or one of the Ravenclaws had resumed their spite in class while Draco was recuperating in the infirmary. He doubted it was one of his Slytherins – they were still celebrating their Quidditch victory and were not about to risk his wrath.

With a sigh, Severus decided he would actually have to speak with his wife to understand her current upheaval.

"Did you fall in?" Caitriona sneered as he emerged from the lavatory.

"I thought pureblooded witches were trained to be sweet and docile."

"I was the first female Head of Slytherin House. Exactly how sweet and docile did you expect me to be?" she scoffed. "Regardless, it's hardly warranted. You're only a half-blood, after all. From a Muggle sire to boot."

Severus flashed the portrait a crude hand gesture as he knocked on his wife's door.

"Merely proving my point," Caitriona huffed.

A muffled sound replied to his knock. Presuming it an invitation, Snape slipped into the small bedroom. He was confused initially at its apparent emptiness, until he peered about the corner of the bed and found the witch curled up against the side of her bed.

"I take it we will be dining in again this evening?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "You can go upstairs if you want."

"And leave my inexplicably distraught wife on her own?" When she said nothing, Severus folded his arms. "Perhaps you might like to get off the floor?"

That similarly drew no response, so the wizard gracefully perched at the foot of her bed. Eventually, Hermione shuddered a deep sigh and climbed up on the head of her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest.

"Do I need to have a word with Professor Vector?"

The young witch dried her eyes. "No. Not yet anyway. I'll let you know after I get my essay back."

"A student in need of punishment?"

Hermione snorted sadly and shook her head.

"Am I to play twenty questions?"

Biting her lip, the girl stared at her emerald bedspread for several seconds before finally clearing her throat. "I received a letter from my parents on Monday."

"It's Wednesday."

"I put off reading it until this afternoon."

Severus swallowed nervously. Tonks had told him of the strained relationship between Hermione and her parents, but he had spared little thought to it since their wedding day. "And?"

Hermione sighed deeply, withdrawing the crinkled letter from her pocket and holding it toward him. Somewhat surprised by her offer, Severus accepted the piece of paper.

Dear Hermione,

Your mother and I patiently waited for your response regarding the holiday for more than a week. We were understandably worried but assumed you must be busy preparing for your examinations or having fun with your friends. Imagine our surprise to discover you were not busy with schoolwork but with your new husband instead. A husband we knew absolutely nothing about until some strange woman claiming to be a reporter showed up at our door!

We understand you are legally an adult and that you prefer the wizarding world to ours, but we are still your parents. We gave you life, care for you, celebrate your accomplishments, support you emotionally and financially. And we deserve to be respected for that. So, explain to me what we could have possibly done to you that would prompt you to cut us out of the most important decision of your life. Do we not rank high enough in your esteem to earn an invitation TO YOUR BLOODY WEDDING?

And your husband? Twice your age and your professor? What could you possibly be thinking? Throwing your future away for a silly schoolgirl fantasy? That is not the intelligent, independent daughter we raised you to be. I can't even begin to describe our disappointment. Your mother has been inconsolable ever since that wretched witch left.

Enjoy your newlywed holiday. Your mother and I will be travelling.

Richard Granger

Dick. How apropos. Snape refolded the letter and placed it upon the bed. Based on the comments Tonks made prior to their wedding ceremony, he had assumed the Grangers had already been informed. "You hadn't told them yet?"

Hermione slowly shook her head. "I didn't know how to."

"It's been weeks."

"I know," she sniffed. "They don't get the Prophet or any other Wizarding news. They'd never have let me back if they had. I thought I had time to figure out how to explain it to them."

"We never have as much time as we think we do."

Hermione glared at him until recognizing he had not meant it as a criticism. She rested her chin on the pillow and heaved a sigh. "I don't know what to do. How do I fix it?"

"Well," he mumbled, "there's always Obliviation."

"I'm not Obliviating my parents!" the witch cried, tossing aside her pillow and standing from the bed. "I have to apologize, to explain, to… I can't tell them the truth, can I?"

Severus shook his head.

"And they won't understand the cover story," Hermione moaned. "How do I make them understand?"

"I don't –"

"Don't tell me you don't know. You lie all the time to Volde—"

"Silencio."

Hermione went wide-eyed and slapped her hand over her mouth when her voice suddenly vanished. When he cancelled the silencing spell a moment later, she fisted her hands at her side. "What was that for?!"

"Do not ever say that name near me again," Snape commanded. "You ought to avoid saying it altogether, but especially when we are alone. Is that clear?"

The witch narrowed her gaze. "Professor Dumbledore says it's foolish to fear a name."

Pinching his lips into a thin line, her husband stood and quickly tossed aside his teaching robes.

Hermione backed away, a frightened expression on her face. "What are you…"

Severus unfastened the left cuff of his frock coat and linen shirt, then shoved up his sleeve to his elbow. Making a fist, he held out his forearm. "Dumbledore does not have one of these."

His wife eyed the Dark Mark with uncertainty.

"Go on," he instructed. "Reach toward it."

"Why?"

"Because six plus years of teaching you tells me you won't let it go until you have your obnoxious curiosity sated."

Gulping, Hermione inched forward and slowly extended her hand. As her fingers shakily hovered over his arm, the black snake suddenly wriggled. With a sharp cry of shock, the witch jerked backward. "It moves?!"

"On occasion." Severus stiffly pulled down his sleeves and rebuttoned the cuffs.

She felt incredibly squeamish at the idea. "Why does it do that?"

"Because it senses you are not one of the Marked."

"Could you feel it…when…"

"Yes."

"Good god." Hermione grimaced and placed a hand on her stomach. "What would happen if I touched it?"

Severus reclaimed his seat and crossed his arms. "It would sting."

"Sting me?"

"No. Not you."

Hermione anxiously pulled at her sleeves. "Does it sting when someone near you says the name?"

The wizard shook his head. "It moves."

"As in… it's sensing something? Like… it's listening?"

Holding her gaze, Snape gave a slow nod.

"Shee-zus," Hermione exhaled, sinking back against the bed. "So… if you hadn't silenced me, and I finished the name… You-Know-Who would have eavesdropped on our conversation?"

"I cannot say for certain. I have no proof of anything. I know it moves; I know the Dark Lord obsesses over what is said about him; and based on those two truths, I suspect it likely."

Having paled considerably, the young witch pressed her knuckles against her mouth. "When Order members…"

"I have tried to curb their behavior. I have shared my suspicions and had them summarily dismissed as impossible. Thus, I do whatever I can to distance it from them and to muffle the sound." Severus unfolded his arms. "These quarters were the only place I didn't have to take such precautions, and I would prefer to keep it that way."

Hermione touched his hand. "I won't ever say it again. I promise."

"See if you can't dissuade your idiot friends as well. But you cannot tell them why. It may cost us both our lives if you do."

She extracted her hand with a shiver. "Alright."

Severus nodded once in acknowledgement and stood, gathering his teaching robes. "I will place an order for supper, then. We can contemplate what to do about your parents after we eat."

As he departed, Hermione's eyes snapped down to the letter in front of her. She had almost forgotten about her original problem. Perhaps there was some truth to her father's accusations after all. With everything going on in the Wizarding World, she hardly had the time to think about her parents.

Frustrated, she rubbed at her stinging eyes before moving to join her husband in the sitting room.

Hermione jiggled her knee under the desk as her whispering classmates entered the Charms classroom. It was fairly obvious what they were discussing given all the copies of Witch Weekly that were visible. The bold letters at the bottom of the cover page – 'You Must Be Joking!': Parents Completely Unaware of True Love Match – taunted her from several angles.

"Could you knock that off?" Draco snarled from her right. "You're making me seasick."

"I'm barely moving," she argued.

The blond wizard glowered at her. "Perhaps you should get your skull cracked open. Then you can tell me what barely moving feels like."

"Perhaps you should have stayed in the Hospital Wing."

Draco pressed his fingers into his forehead. "Just because you aren't sitting NEWTs doesn't mean the rest of us aren't."

"Can you not make it an entire week without throwing that in my face?"

"If you don't stop shaking the desk," Malfoy bit out, "I will be throwing vomit in your face."

Resentfully, Hermione ceased her leg shaking. Instead she folded her arms tightly and tapped her fingertips against her biceps to expel her nervous energy.

"Merlin's balls," Draco hissed. "What the hell is wrong with you today?"

The witch scowled but said nothing.

"Uncle Sev forget to finish you off or something?"

Cackling exploded nearby, prompting Draco to wince in pain and Hermione to glare past him to Pansy Parkinson. The pug-faced witch had outpaced Daphne to claim the seat beside the Malfoy heir.

"Oh, Draco! I'm glad you're feeling better," Pansy simpered, touching his shoulder. "It's been so dismal not having you in class. I would've visited you in hospital, but Professor Snape said he'd give a months' detention to anyone who disturbed your recovery."

Hermione snorted under her breath. It pleased her somewhat to hear Snape was strict with his Slytherins, contrary to the popular opinion of Gryffindor House. Feeling eyes on her, she met Pansy's pinched gaze then glanced at Daphne, stiffly seated at the other end of the row.

"I know what's bothering Madam Snape," Pansy grinned, withdrawing her copy of Witch Weekly and placing it on the desk in front of Draco.

The blond lowered his hand and wrinkled his nose. "You expect me to read? I'm not bloody reading until the words stay on the bloody page."

Daphne shot the boy a concerned glance, while Pansy returned her magazine to her bag with a shrug.

"Apparently Mummy and Daddy Muggle were completely shocked to find out whose bed their daughter's been sharing."

"Pansy," Daphne whispered. "Do you want to upset Professor Snape again? I know he put you on notice."

The black-haired witch rolled her eyes. "I'm just answering Draco's question."

"I don't believe he asked you," Hermione hissed.

Draco shrugged off Pansy's hand, interrupting her reply. "Could you three gossiping hags pipe down?"

Hermione huffed in anger and turned her attention to the podium, while Pansy cooed an apology. Daphne frowned and studied his tense posture. As Professor Flitwick called the class to attention, she leaned closer to whisper, "Draco, are you sure you're alright to resume classes?"

"I'm fine," he seethed. "Why don't you just back off and mind your own business, Greengrass?"

Pansy grinned smugly as her roommate quietly retracted into her seat. Surprised by the harshness of his tone, Hermione glanced down the row. Though Daphne maintained her calm demeanor, she appeared to blink faster than usual as she opened her textbook.

Arse. Hermione rested her elbows on the top of the desk. She was not quite ready to consider Daphne a friend, but she did feel some degree of sympathy for her.

Between Draco's dizziness upon standing and Pansy's insistence on keeping his attention, Hermione easily escaped the Charms classroom without him. Daphne, however, was quick to catch up with her.

"You know, he probably didn't mean it," Hermione eventually stated, breaking their awkward silence.

The Slytherin witch glanced at her. "Pardon?"

"Malfoy. He's in pain and lashing out. I don't think he meant to upset you."

Daphne raised her chin. "Maybe Pansy will convince him to return to the infirmary."

"Doubtful. That doesn't seem to be her goal," Hermione mumbled. "But I have an idea as to who will."

Once they arrived on the ground floor, the girls quickly checked the Great Hall before heading down the next set of staircases. They were nearly to the dungeons when their quarry appeared in sight.

"There you are, darling!" Hermione grinned in amusement.

Severus tightened his eyes and slowed his steps as the pair approached him. "Madam Snape. Miss Greengrass."

"Professor," Daphne nodded.

"We've been looking for you."

"I can only imagine how exhaustive a search that required," Snape intoned. "What is it you require that could not wait until I arrived at the Great Hall?"

Hermione adjusted her bookbag. "It's about your godson."

"What about him?"

At Hermione's silent prompting, Daphne cleared her throat. "Draco came to class this morning – well, not to Potions, but he attended Charms. He insists he's fine, sir, but he's clearly not."

"I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. If you'll excuse me…"

The two witches shared a conspiratorial smile and trailed him up the staircase. They reached the Entrance Hall in time to watch him gracefully swoop down on the ailing young wizard.

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus purred, catching his godson by the shoulder.

"Fuck."

"Five points for language, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Parkinson, run along and join your friends." The Slytherin Head crossed his arms as she begrudgingly followed directions. "Now, Draco, can you tell me where it is you ought to be?"

Draco attempted a grin. "Eating lunch?"

"And if I ask Madam Pomfrey where that lunch ought to be served?"

"I'm fine," the boy protested.

With a scrutinizing stare, Severus tilted his head. "I am going to offer you two choices, Mr. Malfoy. One… you trudge back to the infirmary and remain there until Madam Pomfrey and I agree you are ready to be released. Or two… you continue with your day as planned… in which case, I will strip you of 25 points for skipping Potions."

"That's not too terrible."

"After taking those points, I will send a letter to inform your mother of the infraction."

Draco sucked in air. "You realize I'm an adult now."

"That remains to be seen," his godfather sneered. "Should you collapse or otherwise find yourself unable to continue your daily routine, I will rid you of another 50 points for lying to a professor and, again, inform your mother of the infraction."

Snape rolled his shoulders. "Now, then. What shall it be?"

His godson grimaced and hung his head. "I guess I'll be trudging back to the infirmary, then."

"Excellent," Severus extended one arm in that direction. "Allow me to escort you there."

As the pair of wizards walked away, Hermione and Daphne finally entered the Great Hall. The latter moved to Slytherin table, relieved her friend would be cared for, while the former practically floated toward Gryffindor table, eager to tell her friends about her victory over Malfoy.

Shortly after noon on Sunday, the Snapes spun into an apparition point hidden within a wooded area in northwest London. Hermione tugged at her skirt, straightened her coat, and then waited for her husband to similarly tidy his clothing. Though she had seen him in Muggle clothes when they had visited his home weeks ago, she had to admit he was currently dressed much smarter.

"Did you… trim your hair?" Hermione stammered in surprise.

Severus shook a loose strand out of his face. "Why?"

"No reason," she smiled, taking hold of his arm. "It looks nice."

The wizard grunted as they stepped out onto a paved walk. In truth, Minerva had been the one who insisted upon it when he had stopped by her office that morning to inform her of their day plans. He had, however, curtailed his brewing at midday Saturday and did his best to clean his hair in the shower before her interference.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Hermione remarked several minutes later.

Severus shrugged, trying not to notice that the houses grew larger and more detached the longer they walked. "The longer you delay speaking to them, the less likely you are to resolve anything."

"I know," she breathed. "It's just… what if they don't understand?"

"Then they won't understand," he stated. "There is only so much one can do."

Hermione nodded glumly, tightening her grip on his arm. Eventually she slowed to a stop and caught his hand. "Severus."

"What?" The wizard glanced back at her in frustration. If she continued stalling, he might just cave in and call off the entire venture. It was not as though he had any real desire to meet her parents.

"This is it," she gestured using their joined hands to the closest house.

"What, this?" Color faded from his face as Severus eyed the clean brick, multi-paned windows, flagstone drive, and tidy hedges. He had assumed they were merely cutting through this neighborhood and were still several streets away from their destination. "I thought you said they were dentists."

Hermione stepped onto the driveway. "They are dentists."

"How much do they charge per tooth?" he griped.

The witch gently tugged him forward. "Dad inherited it when Gran died years ago."

Oh, he just inherited it. That's entirely different, then. Severus breathed in deeply, centering himself using the stained-glass inset on the front door. Relax, you twit. It's not like it's remotely comparable to Malfoy Manor.

Yes, but it's not the Malfoy daughter you wed without permission. Clearing his throat, Snape placed one hand on his wife's lower back as she pressed the doorbell.

The heavy door was pulled open within seconds by a tall man with greying red hair. A slender woman, whose dark hair was swept into an elegant chignon, stood solemnly beside him.

Hermione forced a smile. "Hello, Mum, Dad. I would very much like to introduce you to Severus… my husband."