A/N: Oh, it's been far too long! With a few days to spare, I finally managed to get this chapter posted in 2020. Fingers crossed things will calm down enough this year to allow more frequent updates.

I hope you are all well, and I wish you all the best in the year to come. Happy New Year!

Chapter 26: Domestic Disputes

"Anything you care to share with us this morning, Madam Snape?" Ginny leaned in against the table.

"What do you mean?" Hermione paused with her hand on the jam jar, noting that Harry was also awaiting her answer. Beside him, Ron's slow chewing betrayed he was only pretending not to be listening.

"Well, neither you nor everybody's favorite professor bothered to show up for yesterday's meals," the redhead explained. "Kind of begs the question where you were."

"Oh."

"Or if the two of you were up to something?"

Frowning, Hermione spread strawberry jam on her toast. "We were away most of the afternoon."

"Away where?" Harry asked.

"We had tea with my parents."

"Ah," Ginny smirked. "And how did that go?"

Though it was not a topic she wished to discuss publicly, Hermione preferred it come from her mouth and not the next reporter who managed to assail her parents. "Not well."

"What? You mean hubby didn't win over the in-laws with his good looks, charming disposition, and sparkling wit?"

While Harry guffawed, Hermione set down her knife with a glare. "He was remarkably well-behaved, thank you, and his wit was the highlight of the afternoon. It wasn't his fault things turned out the way they did."

"They weren't thrilled you kept it all from them?" Harry muttered, earning a snort from Ron.

"No." She raised her chin. "No, they were not the least bit thrilled."

"I can't believe you didn't tell them," he continued. "It's been a month already."

"Six weeks," Ginny corrected.

Ron loudly swallowed his food. "I don't know why you're surprised. I told you she wouldn't tell them. I wouldn't either if it was Snape I was stuck with."

"Is that the real reason you keep bangin' on about it, Weasley?" Seamus asked, sharing a smirk with his mates. "All this time we thought it was Granger you were slobberin' over!"

"I was going to tell them!" Hermione protested, while Ron lunged toward Seamus. "I just hadn't figured out how to explain it to them yet."

"It's December!" Harry snapped, struggling to keep his best friend in his seat.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm sure she would have told them before end of term."

"Yes, I would have," Hermione hissed. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you all. I'm sorry I didn't tell my parents. I just got so swept up with everything and didn't have time to think!"

Ginny reached across the table to touch her arm. "Hermione, it's alright."

"No, it isn't! It isn't alright." She rubbed her face in frustration. "They're upset with me. You're upset with me. I'm upset with me. Severus…"

Hermione exhaled and glanced over her shoulder to the Head Table, where her husband was listening to one of his Prefects and glaring at Slytherin Table. Turning back to her friends, she continued, "Actually, Severus doesn't seem that upset with me."

"Course not," Seamus smirked, leaning in again. "Even he knows you shouldn't bite the hand that wanks you."

"No!" Harry groaned, grabbing Ron again when he made to stand.

Shaking off his grip, Ron growled, "Fuck off, Seamus."

"So, your parents didn't come around?" Ginny pressed, ignoring the male antics.

Hermione picked at the crust of her toast and shook her head. "We did our best to explain, but… I'm not sure which one of us they're angrier with, frankly."

"No big happy holiday dinner planned, then?"

She snorted sadly. "Even if we were invited, I don't think I could convince Severus to return so soon. I can't say I blame him. I'm not ready to deal with them again, either. I sort of stormed off in a huff."

"And then you dragged Snape back here to work off all that pent-up aggression?" Ginny waggled her eyebrows. When the boys groaned, she chided them, "Oh, grow up, the pair of you! They're married. Fornication is permitted. Encouraged, even."

"Says who?" Ron sputtered amidst the giggles of his peers.

His sister rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know – the whole soul mate thing? Remember, Ronnikins?"

"For your information," Hermione interrupted the squabbling siblings, "we did not come back here after leaving my parents. Severus and I cooled off well enough over dinner and a quiet, afternoon stroll in the countryside."

"You go anywhere else?"

"We popped into a bookshop for a bit."

Ginny tapped her chin with a spoon. "Buy any new books?"

"I –"

"No, hold on. Did he procure the books for you?"

"Yes." Hermione felt her cheeks warm under her friend's eager stare. I suppose you could say that.

Satisfied, the redheaded witch picked up her tea. "Excellent."

Harry glanced at her in confusion. "What do you mean, 'excellent'?"

Ginny took a casual sip before explaining. "If he bought her books, then he definitely got laid last night –"

Hermione choked on her own ill-timed sip of tea.

" – which means he may be less beastly when reading our essays tonight. I rushed through mine this morning."

"Why?" Hermione coughed. "You had all weekend."

"Yeah, well…I got busy."

"With what?"

Ginny widened her stare, silently flicking her eyes to Harry and back.

"Gods," Hermione groaned.

"If I have any hope of a passing grade, he needs to be in a good mood. So, on that note… if you could be a good lass, and –"

"Madam Snape," Daphne interrupted. "Were you ready to –"

"More than ready!" Hermione hopped out of her seat, nearly colliding with her Slytherin escort.

"Don't forget who your real friends are!" Ginny shouted after her.

"You know, Draco's been cleared from hospital all week." Hermione commented Friday morning.

Daphne glanced back at her. "What's your point?"

Hermione adjusted the strap of her bag. "Well, if you don't want to escort me, he is available to do so."

"Why? Would you prefer he –"

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I've much enjoyed the reprieve from his company, believe me."

The frown on Daphne's face deepened.

"It's just that you seem to find the task unpleasant. More unpleasant than usual, at least."

"I apologize, Madam Snape. I didn't mean to give offense."

After two minutes of tense silence, Hermione came to a stop in front of a window.

Forced to halt her quick stride, Daphne whirled back to face her. "I don't want to be late to Transfiguration."

"We won't be," Hermione reassured her. "We still have ten minutes."

A small huff escaped the pureblood, but she otherwise relented.

"If you're not upset with me, why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"You've barely spoken to me this week, not even to criticize or correct, and I know I haven't suddenly met your expectations for propriety."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Evidently."

"So… what is it?"

The witch's smugness faded as she eyed the flagstones. "Forgive me, Madam Snape, but this isn't a conversation I'm comfortable having with you."

"I won't tell Professor Snape if that's what you're concerned about," Hermione stated sharply, frustrated both with the girl remaining mum and with herself for caring about the nature of her secret.

Daphne fixed her with an incredulous look. "You shouldn't keep things from your husband."

It took great strength not to roll her eyes. "I assure you he doesn't mind if I keep my friends' confidence. In fact, I'm certain he'd prefer it that way."

The Slytherin was skeptical. "Even if we were friends, Madam Snape, your loyalty ought to be with your husband, not with me."

Hermione was somewhat surprised by the sting accompanying her statement. Why did I say we were friends? Am I that desperate for companionship?

Hoping to avoid contemplating that question further, she cleared her throat. "Is your secret something that will get you in trouble? Or Professor Snape, were he to know?"

"One can never know what consequences keeping confidences may convoke," Daphne recited.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And what book will I find that quote in?"

"It isn't from a book," the girl grumbled. "It's from my grandmother."

And I'll wager she found it in a book claiming itself suitable for young witches. Hermione stretched her neck before wincing at the shrill laugh that echoed down the corridor. Her gaze swept to the Transfiguration classroom where Draco had appeared with Pansy Parkinson wrapped about his arm.

Realization sparked as she took in Daphne's tight posture. "Ohhhh, I see."

Fire flashing in her eyes, Daphne moved toward the classroom. "You've just cost me my seat."

With a loud sigh, Hermione followed her across the threshold to find the girl was correct. Though her usual spot beside Malfoy was open and waiting for her, Pansy and her closest friends had occupied the remaining seats nearby.

"I'm sor –" Her apology died upon realizing Daphne was trudging to a new table in the back row. Having no wish to deal with Pansy and her posse, Hermione hustled after her chaperone. "I am sorry."

"It's fine," Daphne shrugged, pulling out a chair.

Before the pair could fully settle in, however, a hand slammed down between them. Hermione startled as Draco forcefully purred, "Greengrass, if you wouldn't mind…"

Daphne coolly stared up at him before gathering her materials. Head held high, she surrendered her seat and moved down to sit beside an irritated Pansy.

"What is wrong with you?" Hermione gasped as the boy claimed the relinquished seat. "I'd prefer she –"

"It doesn't much matter to me what you prefer, Madam Snape," Draco hissed. "I thought you and I had an agreement."

"What are you talking about? You practically assigned Daphne to me as an escort!"

"I'm not referring to Greengrass."

"Then what are you referring to?"

As McGonagall brought the class to attention, Draco stealthily slipped the newest issue of Which Wizard in front of her. "Page six."

Eyes narrowed, the witch slowly turned the pages so as not to attract attention.

"What part of don't humiliate him don't you understand?" he snarled.

Hermione's cheeks burned at the horribly-timed photo from their time in her parents' garden, which appeared beneath the garishly large headline, 'True Love's Temper Tantrum!'. Her stomach twisted while watching herself slap at Snape, point in his face, then rip out of his hold. From the angle, he looked like a concerned husband trying to calm her down – granted, that was fairly accurate given the moment in question – while she appeared an angry shrew.

Shoving the magazine back at Draco, the witch slid down in her seat and wondered how many of her classmates had already seen it. Her only sliver of a silver lining was that it had not been published in either Witch Weekly or the Daily Prophet; she may still be able to warn Snape before he caught wind of it himself.

Gods, he told me to control myself, that people would be watching… Hermione stared at the white knuckled grip Draco held on his quill as he jotted down a line in his notebook. Though she told herself to focus on the lecture, her mind continued playing over the embarrassing photo. They must have been watching the house, waiting for us to visit. They must have known we would visit after that article, and… hold on…

Frowning, the witch sat forward and fished the magazine out from beneath Draco's notebook. She disregarded the Slytherin's glare as she flipped back to the page and studied the photo once more.

An awful chill skittered down her spine. With little thought to her current surroundings, Hermione snatched up her bag and sprinted for the door. Though she heard Draco cursing behind her and her Head of House calling after them, she did not slow her stride as she made for the nearest staircase.

"Fucking hell, Granger!" Draco wheezed, overtaking her after the second flight of stairs. "What are you doing, you nutter?!"

"Get off me, Malfoy!" she shoved him back and hustled down the next flight.

"Oh, Pomfrey's going to kill me," Draco sputtered before jogging after her again. "If Uncle Severus doesn't kill me first."

Noting a student eyeing his benchmate's cauldron with a mischievous gleam, Severus cleared his throat. "Continue in that line of thought, Mr. Partridge, and I will personally see to it that your backside is planted firmly in the nearest pear tree."

The third year Hufflepuff paled, while the students surrounding him snickered.

Satisfied, the professor moved on to the next bench. Before he could offer any further commentary, the classroom door swung open with a loud creak. Whirling about, he nearly drew his wand before realizing the identity of the intruder.

"MISS—US SNAPE!" Hoping no one noticed his near slip on her title, Severus stalked down the center aisle toward his wife. He barely glanced at the door when his breathless, red-faced godson stumbled across the threshold. "What, pray tell, do you think you're doing?!"

Hermione tried to catch her breath. "I need to speak to you –"

He leaned in closer, folding his arms. "And you think now, in the middle of class, is the appropriate time to do so?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Now."

Severus narrowed his eyes, taking in her determined, yet fearful expression. "Mr. Malfoy, return to class."

"Yes, sir," Draco sighed. With a gulp of air, he pushed off the door and wandered away at a much more sedate pace.

Snatching her elbow, Snape steered his wife toward the storeroom. He barked at his students to return to their brews before firmly shutting the door behind them and casting a strong Muffliato. "Explain. Now."

Hermione handed over the magazine she had pilfered from Malfoy.

His expression darkened. "This is why you disrupted no doubt two classes?! Because another ignoramus wrote an article?"

"The photo!" she jabbed her finger into the page.

"Yes, I see the photo. We both were aware there would be eyes watching us –"

"From the house?!"

"What?"

Hermione took back the magazine and held it up higher. "Look at the angle of the photo! They had to have taken it from inside the house. They were in my parents' home, Severus!"

Severus frowned, recalling the sensation of being watched while in the back garden. "Would your parents have –"

"No!" she snapped. "My parents may be angry with me and hate you, but they wouldn't do this! They wouldn't want their private lives broadcast, and they wouldn't sell us out! Whoever took that picture broke into my home; they spied on my parents and on us!"

Fuck. The wizard pivoted back to the door.

"Wait! Where are you –"

Silencing her with a glare, he cancelled the Muffliato then ripped open the storeroom door. A pair of surprised students tripped over each other on the way back to their benches. "Ten points from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

With a sharp flourish of his wand, he vanished the contents of every cauldron in the room. "Class is dismissed. I will expect instead a full roll of parchment on why the ingredients listed would give rise to the Levand Antidote. I will collect these immediately upon your arrival on Wednesday."

Leaving a classroom full of chattering students, Severus stormed down the corridor to his office. He held the door open for his uncertain wife, then swept over to his desk. "Well, don't just stand there."

Hermione startled. "What?"

The wizard pulled out a piece of parchment from a drawer. "I presume you would like to ascertain the well-being of your parents and their home, would you not?"

"Of course!"

He fixed her with a trying look. "Then get your coat."

As she hustled past him into their quarters, Severus snagged the nearest quill. He paused a moment in contemplation, then scribbled out assignments for his remaining classes. He tossed the quill somewhere atop his blotter, slammed shut his desk drawer, and muttered, "And a happy fucking Friday was had by all."

Snape pivoted from his desk to find his wife eyeing him cautiously.

"I need to post these on the classroom door first." He held up the assignment list. "On the off chance one of the gleeful idiots might actually learn something. Unlikely, I know, but I'm told I should be more optimistic."

Hermione gave a quiet snort before preceding him into the corridor.

Twenty-seven minutes later, Severus found himself again staring at stained glass, wondering how his in-laws would receive him. Not well, by any rate.

He suspected their opinion of him would only worsen after learning of their home invader. Of course, they would consider it his fault. Wasn't it? You spy on the Dark Lord, and it never crossed your mind to check anything? They don't even have any wards!

Severus flexed his wand hand. He was itching to cast detection charms but thought it best to wait until they were behind closed doors. "Are you certain they're in?"

Hermione nodded as she rang the doorbell once more.

"Not at the office?"

"It's Friday."

He frowned. "Do dentists not work Friday?"

The witch adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. "I'm sure some do."

Further discussion on the subject was curtailed when the door opened to reveal one of the Drs. Granger.

"Hello, Mum." Without awaiting an invitation, Hermione pushed past the surprised woman.

"What are you –"

Severus followed his wife's lead, reaching the staircase before hearing his mother-in-law bellow as she slammed the door. He surreptitiously cast a Homenum Revelio to ensure there were no unexpected guests present in the home.

"RICHARD!"

Thank the gods she's a Muggle. He envisioned himself being tripped by a Cruciatus halfway up the carpeted steps. His nose would break his fall, dribbling blood on the white carpet, for which the punishment most assuredly was death.

"It's just up here." Hermione hurried up another flight of stairs, then into a sizable room with windows overlooking the back garden. "Right here."

Severus stepped up to the window and produced the magazine from his pocket. He compared the photo with his current vantage to confirm. "The angle matches. Whoever took that photo stood at this window."

They stood at this window, and you thought it was the bloody house mocking you, you twit.

"I told you that."

"Hermione Jean Granger!" her mother snapped, appearing in the doorway; Richard Granger at her heels.

Grumbling under her breath, Hermione snatched the magazine from Snape's hands and held it up for them to see. "This photo was taken from this room. Did you let a reporter in to spy on us?"

"Of course, we didn't!" Richard protested as his wife fell silent.

Paying little attention to the bickering Grangers, Severus completed a series of detection spells. After determining there were no listening charms or traces of dark magic present on the floor – he would have to repeat them on the lower levels – he peered about the room.

White bookshelves filled with colorful books lined the lower half of one wall, while a large Victorian dollhouse occupied the opposite corner. A small desk sat near the window with color-coordinated art supplies displayed beside it. The daybed, made up with pastel pink linens, was inhabited by a horde of soft toys.

There was no denying it was a child's room.

"Hermione," Snape finally interrupted their argument. "Look around. Is anything missing?"

"Oh, erm…" She turned about in the space. "I don't… Merlin's sake."

Severus followed her gaze to the dollhouse, where a few of the dolls – and one very bedraggled looking black stallion – had been placed in lewd positions. Before the Drs. Granger noticed, he bumped the corner of the dollhouse, knocking the dolls and horse over into a haphazard – but far more innocent – pile.

"Thanks." Hermione whispered before turning to face her parents. "Mum, is anything missing that you notice?"

"Not that I can tell," Rosalind shrugged stiffly. "We gave the ones you never played with to Velma for her grandchildren."

"Velma's the housekeeper," Hermione explained to her husband. "I don't see anything else out of place, but I'd like to check my bedroom as well."

The housekeeper, he repeated in his head before the rest of her sentence caught up to him. "This is not your bedroom?"

"No. I would play up here when I was younger."

"I see." Though discomfited by the notion of having a separate room just for toys, he was relieved this room was not the one she had recently vacated for his quarters. "I think it a good idea to inspect the rest of the house. At the very least, someone was freelancing, at the worst…"

Hermione shivered involuntarily but led them down to the first floor and into the second largest bedroom. Severus paused in the hallway to cast another round of detection spells, which thankfully revealed nothing, then stepped into the bedroom.

Oh yes, because this is infinitely better. Severus inwardly grimaced at the childish artwork adorning the lavender walls and the dainty pink flowers on the ruffled bedding. A well-worn teddy bear stared him down from atop the bookcase in the corner of the room. The rest of the furniture and decorations were admittedly more mature, though collectively still screamed teenaged girl.

Despite the smug look on Richard Granger's face, Severus kept himself composed.

Unable to say the same, Hermione suddenly slammed shut a drawer and glared at her mother, who had been sniping under her breath. "Perhaps you and Dad might start looking through the rest of the house and leave this to us!"

"Leave the two of you to this?" Rosalind clarified. "Alone in your bedroom?"

"I think we're a little too preoccupied with ensuring your safety to even contemplate shagging," her daughter growled in return.

Snape rolled his eyes, while Richard angrily glared a hole in the back of his head. As if I could even manage an erection whilst locked in the haunted gaze of Mr. Teddy Bear.

"Ensuring our safety," the woman repeated. "And where was that consideration when leaving us in the dark for weeks while you embroiled yourself in public scandal?"

Even from several feet away, Severus could see the comment hit its intended mark.

Anger crumpling into shame, Hermione fiddled with an antique doily atop the chest of drawers. "I'm sorry."

Rosalind Granger pointedly flicked her gaze at her new son-in-law. "Oh, I'm certain you are."

Preventing further discussion, the woman stormed out of the room. "Richard, go up and check the storeroom. Your mother will haunt us if anything…Richard? Richard, are you listening? Richard!"

Resentfully, the man ceased glaring at Severus and joined his wife in the hallway.

Once free of parental supervision, Hermione expelled a deep sigh. "I apologize for wrecking your day with all of this."

Severus rolled his shoulders. "You've not had the pleasure of teaching Potions on a Friday afternoon. Or ever, for that matter."

The witch smirked. "I can't imagine you would have continued teaching for sixteen years if you hate it as much as you claim."

"No?" he queried. "You can't imagine a single reason why I might do so? Or two rather demanding reasons, perhaps?"

"Oh," she winced. "Right. Sorry."

"You wouldn't have left any recently-used personal care items lying about, would you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"A comb, toothbrush, or… anything else that may contain traces of your person."

Her face paled. "You mean for Polyjuice?"

"Mm."

"Oh god!" She frantically glanced about the room. "Maybe an old hairbrush? Oh! And my parents have all of my baby teeth kept somewhere, and…"

Baby teeth? Severus frowned as his wife fretted aloud. Is that normal for Muggles, or is it a dentist thing? Do they fancy themselves practitioners of dark magic on the weekends?

"Can you really use old samples in Polyjuice?"

The Slytherin slid out of his musings. "Yes…"

Her eyes widened in horror.

"…technically," he clarified. "Freshly collected is best, but older samples will do if need be. Of course, they're not as potent, so you would need significantly more of it. Additionally, the drinker would take on the appearance of the person as they were at the time the sample was removed, not as they are currently. In your case, I do not think we need to be concerned with anything more than six months old."

"Oh." Hermione sank onto the chest at the foot of her bed. "Then I think we're alright. Anything that wasn't thrown away is at Hogwarts."

"Good."

She shook her head. "Merlin, they could fabricate photos of anything they wanted!"

"Increased vigilance would not go amiss."

Wiping her face, Hermione noticed him moving toward the door. "Where are you going?"

"While your parents are preoccupied elsewhere, I thought to go downstairs and make certain there no one left any unsavory spells lying about on that floor."

"Oh! Thank you for doing that. Do you… need to check the other floors, too?"

"I already have."

"You did?"

Severus arched an eyebrow. "What did I just say about vigilance?"

Hoping to delay yet another confrontation with her parents, Hermione quietly crept downstairs in search of her still absent husband. The rustling of paper drew her to the dining room, where she paused in the archway.

Though she had come to terms – for the most part – with sharing personal space and private conversations with Severus Snape, she was wholly unprepared to find him at her dining table, framed by her grandmothers' china, scribbling on one of her mother's notepads. Just the sight of him with a pen instead of a quill in his hand was disorienting.

Engaged in his task, Snape did not acknowledge her arrival. It was only after she had collected herself enough to take a seat across from him and put words together again that he addressed her.

"I'm designing wards," he muttered, anticipating her question.

"Really?!" Hermione perked up and leaned over the table to get a better look.

Severus sighed as she crowded his workspace. "Yes, really."

"Sorry," she sank back. "I've just never seen anyone design wards."

The wizard cleared his throat. "Yes, well… it is a bit advanced for the Hogwarts curriculum."

Flush with curiosity, Hermione rounded the end of the table and claimed the chair beside him. Her eyes eagerly swept over his diagrams, runes, figures, and comments. "For this house?"

"Obviously. Unless you prefer I turn my attention to the grocer's two blocks over."

Her fingers twitched as the urge to hug him resurfaced, though she tamped it down. "You can't just use the same wards you have on yours?"

"What, on Spinner's End?" he snorted. "Unless you wish them to toss the postman into the street or strangle the neighbor who decides to suddenly pop round for tea…"

"Depends on the neighbor."

Hand stilled; Severus finally looked at her.

Hermione giggled at his appreciative smirk.

"Nonetheless…" He turned back to his notes. "It would not serve our purpose to land ourselves in Azkaban."

"Your wards don't really do that, do they?"

"Any neighbor of mine who pops round isn't looking for tea." At her continued scrutiny, he rolled his eyes. "Regardless of their exact specifications, the wards on my home are far too stringent to be of use. Even so, they would have to be reworked considerably just to accommodate the size of the property, and they would probably short circuit every electrical device in the house and set half the block ablaze."

Hermione slid a page toward her and skimmed his notes on the considerations that would have to be made given the neighborhood and her parents' daily lives.

"Anything I missed?"

"They don't entertain to the extent you've assumed, but I can't imagine that changes anything."

Severus peered over his shoulder at the glass cabinets filled with china, silver, and crystal ware.

"It's… mainly for decoration, I guess." Hermione picked at the edge of the paper. "And there's maid service once a week."

He stared blankly at her for a moment. "Any chauffeurs?"

She gave him an odd glance. "No."

"Cooks?"

"No."

"Butler?"

"No," she giggled.

"Chambermaids?"

Chambermaids? Hermione snorted loudly. "No."

"Gardeners?"

"No—oh well, not until Spring at least."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is why warding Muggle homes is rarely done, and never well."

Amusement fading, Hermione set down the paper. "Well, I'd appreciate anything you could do."

The wizard eyed her downtrodden expression. "I can ward it against other Magical persons who have not been explicitly invited by one of us, but there will be weaknesses. A bewitched Muggle – or even one acting on their own volition – may be able to gain entry."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "There are still Muggle security measures in place, though."

"True." Severus crossed out a tangle of runes and started afresh on a new line.

"I'm sorry for complicating things."

"On the contrary," he muttered. "You've simplified things exceedingly. I only need to apply temporary measures to prevent any of your neighbors or passersby paying attention while I establish the warding, which ignores them altogether."

Smile slowly reappearing, Hermione leaned in closer to watch him rework the calculations. Though she was filled with questions, she restrained herself to asking only a few, which he deigned to answer. When he was ready to begin casting, the witch reluctantly forced herself to resume checking over her family's possessions instead of following him about the house like an eager puppy.

Before long, however, she lingered in front of a kitchen window to watch as he began his methodical process in the back garden.

"I cannot understand what you see in him."

The witch stiffened and icily glared at her mother, who approached the next window. Her father hung back a distance, disapproval evident on his face.

"He's not attractive," Rosalind continued, "not well-mannered, clearly not of any means. He appears intelligent yet settled for life as a schoolteacher. And his teeth!"

Hermione gaped at her. "He is out there right now – he cancelled his classes, took time out of his exceptionally busy schedule – spending his time and energy to protect you and Dad, and you stand there disparaging him?"

"Hermione, it is clear to anyone with eyes and a functional brain why he's involved himself with you. It is not clear as to why you've allowed him to do so."

"Because I love him! As I explained repeatedly last week."

A loud noise of disgust escaped Richard Granger as he thundered out the garden door. His daughter returned her attention to the window, anxious he might accost her husband in the midst of casting. Her pulse quieted somewhat when the man settled for silently glowering at Severus from a distance.

"He's taken advantage of you."

Hermione scowled at her mother. "No."

"You're his student and half his age. Regardless of what you think you feel, he abused his position of authority to –"

"If anyone has been taken advantage of in this relationship, it isn't me!" the witch protested. "My actions set this in motion, made our marriage necessary – Severus has only acted to care for and protect me."

Rosalind grimaced. "Is that what he's conditioned you to think?"

"No! That is the truth!"

Her mother folded her arms. "How long has this been developing between –"

"I told you—"

"You took a potion and suddenly the two of you were madly in love?" Rosalind shook her head. "I cannot believe it works that way. I cannot believe anything that invents such strong feeling from nothing could possibly be a good thing. Surely, then, there must be a potion that undoes it!"

Hermione released a slow breath. "It doesn't invent anything. You can't reproduce real love with magic."

"So, you had these deep romantic feelings for your professor before taking it?"

Why isn't Severus here? He's so much better at lying. Hermione cleared her throat. "Not exactly. I mean, I realized I've always had respect and some degree of affection for him. I've always wanted him to notice me, to approve of me – more so than any other professor. I didn't know anything of him outside of his role as a professor, so I never reflected on why I felt that way or imagined him in a romantic context. But when I took that potion… it revealed everything. Once you've bared your soul – even if only to yourself, you can't re-bury that truth."

The witch shifted under her mother's scrutinizing stare. "I know it's difficult for you to accept, but Severus and I were destined for each other. He did nothing wrong."

"Then why wasn't he on our doorstep two months ago to ask our permission?"

"Because I asked him not to."

"What? Whyever not?"

Hermione cringed. "Because you were right, alright? I acted without fully thinking through the consequences, and I was embarrassed to admit it. I wanted time to figure out how to explain everything so that we could avoid all of this. I was going to tell you when I was ready!"

"Before or after our first grandchild came into the world?"

"For the love of all that is holy, Mother, I am not pregnant!"

"Did you –"

"Yes, I checked!" Hermione snapped. "Believe me, Mum – Severus and I are taking every possible precaution."

Rosalind let out a huff. "Yes, well…things happen. Believe me."

"We aren't…" The witch paused as her mother's comment registered. "Wait, what?"

Ignoring the question, the woman crossed over to the window. Her fingertips tapped against her elbows for some time before she looked back to her daughter. "Are you expecting me to feed him as well?"

With a snarl, Hermione stomped out the garden door. She set down the plate and water glass on the frosted glass table and cast a warming charm about the patio. Meeting her father's hard gaze, she cleared her throat. "Severus, when you can spare a moment, I brought you lunch."

At his responding grunt, the young witch plopped onto a chair. She crossed her arms and stared blankly in the direction of her husband. Loathing the idea of being subjected to further lecturing, she grimaced as her father started in her direction.

She was saved, however, by the kitchen window sliding open.

"If you think I am sorting through that hoard you call a study, Richard, you are mistaken!"

Sputtering under his breath, Richard slunk back to the house. The window and door slammed shut, and Hermione let loose a sigh and leaned against the table.

After a moment, she snatched a crisp from the plate.

When the wards were finally stable enough to be left alone, Severus stretched to relieve several kinks in his spine. He approached the small patio table where his wife sat, glaring into space and seemingly oblivious to his presence. Clearing his throat, he murmured, "The help are expected to eat out of doors, then?"

"What?" Hermione startled, then frowned. "No. I just needed a break from… the house."

Her husband claimed the seat beside her and picked up half of the sandwich in front of him. "Is the other half yours?"

"No, it's yours. I'm too…I'm not hungry."

Severus chewed slowly. "I see. That explains why you've eaten my crisps."

"What?" Hermione looked down to see she had, in fact, cleared all but one lonely crisp. "I didn't even notice. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's fine."

"Are you sure? I can go –"

"No. This is more than enough."

The witch nodded and resumed her silent brooding. Eventually, her husband enquired what was wrong. "Oh, nothing."

"Mmm, yes," Severus purred. "You are the epitome of content."

Hermione snorted. "Mum started questioning me about uni. I tried to tell her I wanted to take a gap year to figure out what I wanted to do, but…"

"But she's concerned you're capitulating to my supposed desire to have a wife who spends her days waiting on me hand and foot," Snape surmised.

"How did you…"

He shrugged. "Your feminist indignation had to come from somewhere."

With a scathing glance, Hermione snatched the pickle off his plate and bit it in half.

Severus chuckled to himself. Noticing the slight glimmer in his eye, his wife realized he was only teasing her.

"I really hate you sometimes," she stated, failing to keep a straight face.

"You and everyone else, madam." The wizard finished his lunch, then sat back in his chair. "And what program were you planning to attend after graduation?"

"Oh," Hermione grimaced. "I hadn't actually decided."

"Which options were you considering?"

She bit her lip and stared at the crumbs on his plate. "I don't know."

Snape folded his arms. "You expect me to believe that the witch who color coordinates her study schedule, who throws her hand up so violently to answer a question that it's a wonder she hasn't torn a ligament, and who connived her way into using a Time Turner just to hork down more classes hasn't even thought about what she wants do in life?"

Her cheeks were nearly as hot as the gaze with which she fixed him. "And what about you, Professor? You seem to detest teaching, so what would you do instead?"

His eyes narrowed. "You know why –"

"I do, yes!" Hermione leaned forward and tapped the table with her finger. "And that's the same reason why I haven't decided anything. What's the point in wasting the time thinking about what you want to do when you'll just be told what you have to do?"

Severus released a slow breath. "You were going to put your future on hold for the Order."

She nodded. "Harry, Ron, and I are going to be inducted following the graduation ceremony. I knew I was going to have to make sacrifices to prioritize the War; I just didn't consider what that might actually entail. On that note, I suppose you'll now have to permit me to join the Order."

"If Albus Dumbledore wants you there, you will be there," he said with a roll of his eyes. After taking a long sip of water, he stood and held out his hand. "Come."

She accepted his hand. "What?"

"I need to key the wards to your magical signature."

"Oh." Hermione tightened her grip as she walked with him over to the garden's edge and stepped onto one of the raised flower beds. At his instruction, she placed her free hand against a small notch in the wooden fence. While he quietly spoke, Hermione gasped and closed her eyes as the warm magic washed over her body, setting her nerve-endings tingling. When he released her hand a moment later – though it seemed far longer than that – her chest heaved as she staggered back to steady herself.

Though her jumper was relatively thick, the embarrassed witch folded her arms over her chest to further hide her hardened nipples. Clearing her throat and hoping her face was not beet red, she asked, "Is that it?"

Ignorant to her personal turmoil, Severus nodded and sheathed his wand. "I could not detect any traces of Dark Magic on the premises, but I think we might ask Arthur Weasley and one of the Aurors to take another look. I presume you'd prefer Miss Tonks?"

When she agreed, the wizard moved past her, returning to the grass. Her hand caught his shoulder. "Severus, wait."

As he slowly turned to face her, her arms snaked about his shoulders, removing any distance between them. Whether it was the residual effect from the wards or just the desire to thoroughly shock her mother that prompted her to kiss him deeply, Hermione could not say. She could not say much at all really given her lips – and even her tongue, albeit briefly – were more pleasantly occupied.

"Mmph-ermione," Severus finally regained enough control of his thoughts to regain control of his mouth. "What are you doing?"

Hermione nervously smoothed her hands over his chest. "Erm… expressing my gratitude?"

The man sighed as he lifted her off the edge of the raised bed. "A 'thank you' would have sufficed."

"I'll remember that for next time," she mumbled.

Though both were aware his hands had unintentionally slipped under her shirt when he moved her, neither chose to comment on it.

"Also, my parents were watching."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "And you thought that would raise their opinion of me?"

"No," she scrunched her nose. "Truth be told, I was more interested in punishing them."

A satisfied smirk on her face, Hermione spun on her heel to make her way back into the house.

Her husband, however, required an additional moment to compose himself.

"Coming, dearest?" she called over her shoulder.

Severus inhaled deeply and peered down at the placket of his trousers. She doesn't mean you, you eager little shit. Keep your head down, or Dear Old Dickie's liable to take you out with a fire poker.

With the image of poor Mr. Teddy Bear firmly planted in his head, the wizard straightened his coat before stoically following his wife into the breach once more.