Hey, we are sooo sorry that we're late again. The past two weeks have been a severe pain in the ass to get everything accomplished and deal with the aftermath of holiday chaos. Though this week, we should be back on our regular schedule! This is ANOTHER very long chapter, but we think it's worth it. The next - I say with highly experimental indulgence - should be shorter ? If you haven't checked it out yet, we did a smutty 3-parter for the holidays which contributed a bit to our delay, but hopefully it's enjoyable it, if you want to give it a go! That being said - enjoy this most recent of chapters and let us know what you think!
Cover art, as always, by OpalChalice - Enjoy and Happy 2022!
~ Kristina & Abby
The Ties That Bind
"No cord or cable can draw so forcibly, or bind so fast, as love can do with a single thread." - Robert Burton
CHAPTER VII: The Walk of Shame
"It has been more profitable for us to bind together in the wrong direction than to be alone in the right one." - Nassim Nicholas Taleb
~•~
Thursday, 27th November, 2003 – Mid-Morning
Taking Severus' outstretched hand with thoughtless ease that she didn't question until after the act was done, Hermione found herself checking their surroundings with equally keen attention as they made their way out of the building proper and onto the street. It was mostly vacant so far as she could see – for now , at least, save the occasionally swiftly passing wayfarer. No one who lingered with unnecessary attentiveness, nothing suspicious as of yet.
She took a deep breath and exhaled visibly into the cold air, for two reasons. The first was, obviously, relief that there wasn't an immediate waiting mob, surely. Though the other was decidedly calming in nature – or rather subduing whatever chaotic force had her cheeks aflush and her mind in the gutter since the moment she'd walked in the door. Perhaps the beginning notes of winter filling her lungs was exactly what she needed to counteract the proximity and now direct contact with the man that her libido was apparently incapable of handling with any level of nuance and maturity. Though there was a note of thanks in that realisation, because at least things had gotten so obviously bizarre that she knew they had to be wizardly in nature. There was no other rationale for it, and she had seen some truly transmundane bits of logic in her day.
That, however, was not the current issue – though the settling of her nerves did help with processing it. The present problem was that they were, very probably, about to be openly stalked in the middle of London by wizard journalists that were just good enough at blending in to not get themselves thrown in Azkaban for the trouble.
" So… how long do you think we have until some arsehole with a camera pops up out of the woodwork?"
The young woman's hand felt odd, alien even in his own. Hers was dwarfed nearly thrice by his mammoth, stouter one and yet, its atomity within his own did inspire a certain sense of purpose for him, or rather contentment of his inner being. A sort of thing for safeguarding and a duty to defend. Not that the fellow war hero needed his protection anymore. Not really. (Though it should be noted however, that given just how many times Severus actually had had to step in to defend her – along with the other members of "The Golden Trio" – unbeknownst to them or not, as he had referenced to her momentarily ago – that progressive sentiment could, at present, perhaps, be up for some debate.) But, he was getting off subject!
The entire crux of his former ramblings, he realised with troubled chagrin, was that he was unable, currently, to find a meaningful reason to dislike the notion that, on paper, and in the eye of society's archaic half, he was sanctioned to be her 'protector' as her husband. Horribly superannuated concept, to be sure, however, he did have a bit of a kink when it came to all of that. He'd always been a bit of the proprietorial type – within feministic respect and reason, of course. However, that was most certainly a contemplation with regards to her person for another time and place – if at all, ever .
"Who the bloody hell knows," Severus began sourly, finally reacquainting himself with where he was and whom he was with after his minor holiday on the Island of Self-Pontification.
"Though if I were to hedge my bets I'd predict sooner rather than later. And likely, by a few various ribald 'publishing houses'," he snickered at his own aphorism though his lips soon fell as he realised just how very accurate his guesstimate surely was. He really was no longer in the mood for a tete-a-tete with the Gutter-dwelling "presshouses".
Tucking her free hand into her coat pocket to even begin to rival the temperature of the one locked with his, she gave a soft answering chuckle though it held a wry edge at exactly how potentially infuriating the circumstances really were. This whole marriage business was awkward enough without persistent bystanders.
"Oh probably so," she agreed with a subtle scoff. "And after this morning they're all going to be fighting amongst each other like wild dogs fighting for scraps. I honestly doubt any of them, save perhaps The Prophet, even know anything about the circumstances, either... Probably not even they do…"
"Yes, without fail, Miss Granger," Severus answered, as he readjusted his grip around her hand and turned the collar of his coat north.
"So, given all of that, I'd recommend we each keep our wits steadily about us for the time being. For despite my prior brainchild, perhaps it actually makes far more sense to keep from adding any unnecessary petrol to the fire, as it were. Kingsley is likely right, keeping as low a profile as we can to get me the bloody fuck out of the capital and on my way home, is the wisest way to proceed," he returned as they rounded a bend and made their way to Kings Cross Station, thankfully, which was only about a fifteen-block walk, or less even, from his former 'prison flat'.
Hermione was silent for a moment, frowning in displeasure at his conclusion, though it took her a breath or two to understand why it rubbed her the wrong way. Sure, it was the simplest and least obnoxious way to go – though it was also the easiest and most complacent way to give the Wizengamot exactly what they wanted: obedience even in the face of underhanded deceit.
"Actually, no. No , it really doesn't."
She turned to look up at the taller man's face with marked impatience, just this once taking full ownership of the stereotypical levels of Gryffindor defiance.
"That's exactly what they want us to do, you realise that? They put us into this situation – knowingly threw us to the wolves without an ounce of warning. And because they could technically call it a kindness , they're expecting us to take it with quiet obedience."
Severus paused as she turned inwards towards him before suddenly pulling her back against a nearby building to let the other pedestrians pass them by without being a hindrance. In so doing, he had incontrovertibly tugged her rather snugly against his person and his hands now seemed to find themselves at her sides.
Eh, he'd ignore that potential behavioural error for now.
"How is plastering a photo of my kissing you, rather preciously, might I add – not that I recall doing so, nor really meant to – supposed to be any sort of a blessing or "kindness" towards me on their part, Miss Granger? Even with the article touting that we'd been involved for a fair amount of time, all it seems to me to show is an older man snogging his ex-student and eager to shag her for the umpteenth time on his wedding night. Why not just leave it to the print side of publicising?" He reasoned with a twist of confounding self-questioning laced with mild conviction of his points.
She caught her breath for a moment from the sudden shift of position, though thankfully the train of thought she was holding onto was, for the moment, strong enough to override any perception of their physical circumstances. Her eyes swiftly rolled at his defensive demeanour.
"That is exactly what I'm talking about, Severus. They made that decision for us – and for their own purposes – not only without asking our permission , but didn't even warn us it was happening. And that was before we even signed their stupid bloody contract. Does that not infuriate you, that they expect you to just take orders again ? That just because they want to put across the power-play that they did us a favour by agreeing to our terms, that they can just treat us like puppets and expect us to walk with our heads down even when they put us in a shite position? No. Fuck that, and fuck them."
Severus listened to her words with attentive, appreciative criticism, though he found himself trying to counter each and every one of her reasonings and was, ultimately, unable to. Indeed, for each argument she made, it only inspired his inner feelings of resentment, anger, and injustice that he had been harbouring to finally rear their ugly heads after a decade or so of entrenchment — for he knew not how to release them.
Perhaps she was correct. Perhaps acting on them for once in his life, properly and in full, to indulge in them even recklessly, immaturely — because as she seemed to imply he deserved the chance to — would allow him to forsake them. To give up their ghosts, once and for all, and perhaps, by the grace and power of catharsis, prevent them from continuing to toxically fester and devour him from the inside out, as they had been doing for so very long.
"Are you implying that I've allowed enough diabolical, manipulative, and draconian men to terrorise and abuse both me, and my personal guilt, for a long enough time, now, Miss Granger?" He enquired with an unremitting cadence of put-upon apathy as he bore his eyes into her own with onerous contest – as if to, almost, shame her for not being more daringly explicit in her references for her argumentation that he stand his ground this time.
Indeed, the man's, rather faltering, attempt to sound as if he had nothing but insouciance with regards to any direct – or indirect – adduction of his two late "Masters' (for he had indisputably been a slave to them each respectively) only proved to display with greater significance just how much he was triggered by them. And as such, his wife had likely played her hand quite well.
Hermione's right brow quirked slightly as if to showcase that the very words that had escaped his lips were evidence in and of themselves, as she inclined her head slowly.
"That's … precisely what I'm saying. But I figured it was best for you to come to that conclusion versus my shoving the thought into your head," she excused with a knowing lilt to her somewhat hushed tone, scanning his darker eyes to ensure he had, at least, begun to absorb her insinuation. Only then did she further her suggestion with a succinct but leading inquest.
"They're banking on your sticking to old habits, husband. Wouldn't you like to prove that they are incorrect in that assumption?"
"I was trying to survive in order to perform what little part I could play so as to save the greater good… whatever the bloody hell that even was, or meant, in hindsight. So those "habits" you are referring to, that they assume me to possess – of being subservient, loyal, dutiful, etc., to two tyrannical egomaniacs, might I add – were only on loan to Voldemort and Albus due to their extortion of my true, and only, "habit" , which is that of Guilt ."
Severus paused his prattle here, his eyes studying their surroundings meticulously for a moment as he clutched her closer to protect her from a cluster of grammar students on their walk to school, as well as to give him a bloody breath to reassess and craft his final point to her as to why she needn't worry about this, and why saving face, or fighting face, perhaps, was not the wisest thing to do right now. The sensible thing to do was to shut the fuck up, keep his head down, and get the bloody fuck back to Cokesworth. He could put his middle finger up to them another day, surely.
"All of that to say, Miss Granger, you do not have to worry about my rolling over like a pathetic lap dog to the fucking Wizengamot. They're simply throwing down a ruler with this move, and pulling their cocks out in the hopes that I'll – we'll – do the same back, and thus, fuck ourselves over in some way. They are testing us. Our resolve. Surely isn't the wisest thing to do with such a bullied move, the opposite ? Turn the other cheek? NOT to hex back, so to say, etc? Isn't there more power in silence at times than not? Or whatever the various, bloody noble-minded, spiritual, guru teachings advise?"
Hermione exhaled a patient, albeit audible sigh, shaking her head slightly at his assumption. It was perfectly logical in all respects, save the overwhelmingly political . Which was precisely the realm they were presently dealing with.
"They're not testing us, Severus. This isn't a measuring contest or a challenge to see who breaks – that's probably what they want us to think, but no. They're simply demonstrating their power. It's a flaunt of their upper hand, and if we go quietly without raising any heckles at being walked on like a bloody doormat, they're just going to take it as an invitation to continue to do so, and with increasingly heavier boots," she described in the weary tone of someone who had seen it happening in far closer proximity than she'd ever wanted to.
"They are not expecting a challenge. They – like any other ruling, exploitative party, are expecting quiet, obedient consent in the face of their own grandeur. So I say you were right to start with – we should give them one. If we let them believe they can control us now, it'll be that much harder to make a point later. And if we don't go at that together and as a united front , we're going to be doubly fucked. They're expecting – even hoping – we won't, actually. Probably half the reason they didn't consider our union – our marriage – to ever be a threat is because they assumed we'd be avoiding each other like the plague once it commenced. I mean bloody hell, they likely reckon we won't get within 5 metres of each other on our own. And, they likely are very much relying on their assumption that they'd have to force us to even be in the same room together, let alone anything else! So, therefore, you must see, that the more of their expectations that we can cleverly subvert, the better we–"
Ceasing her precocious articulations quite suddenly with his mouth – and he prayed not too, too rudely, though he certainly didn't want her intellectual head to get any bigger for merit – Severus moved his hands from her sides, to instead, wrap around her in a secure hold of romantic possession as his lips began to snog her ever so intently. Nothing save the joining of lips, of course, but to the outside viewer – one, of whom, he was keeping a rather fastidious eye on – would certainly appear to be far more impassioned in its execution.
The witch's eyes widened in clear surprise before finding themselves shuttering with intuitional response as she returned the kiss with – albeit cautious – zeal. The gears of her mind halted, with a certain amount of reluctance inherent to her particular brand of intellectual verbosity at being interrupted so, though the physical quickly over-ruled. It did not, however, halt the persistent dregs of curiosity from continuing to circumnavigate the confines of her suddenly empty-feeling skull. Was that a very enthusiastic form of agreement, or just a way to stop her from talking? Both? Certainly effective….
Inevitably that line of enquiry won out, and she slowly attempted to disengage from the warmth of his embrace with a hum of confused appreciation.
"...What the fuck was that?" She managed to expel softly as soon as her lips were free, sounding faintly amused in spite of the brash choice of vocabulary.
"...What. Was. What. Wife… ?" Severus hummed, as his hands groped their way to her hips and he – very idiotically – began to ever so subtly rock her abdomen against his pelvis as he shifted his weight to his right thigh, which he then urged her to straddle far more directly.
"I'm merely giving you a place to sit…." he finally answered before leaning forwards to peck her mouth with his once, twice, three times before pulling back only whispers as he continued to eye her, one might say, with heated lust.
"Don't….you…want….to…flirt...back… Darling…? " He whispered lowly with loitering speed and a raising of his brow.
It took Hermione an embarrassingly long moment for the reality of the situation to click amidst the series of sparks that were beginning to accumulate in a general haze of arousal – and also to be sure she wasn't hallucinating again. Oh…OH. Fuck, fuck fuck… Breathe, focus.
She blinked and her gaze shifted subtly to the side and caught a glimpse of a few passerbys, one of whom was clearly more suspicious than the others, as her grip tightened on Severus' shoulders and she pulled herself further against him, his thigh rooting even more snugly between her legs and her weight inadvertently nudging him further into the wall at his back, making his grip on her all the more essential.
"You're doing…very well on your own," she teased against his lips, quietly no doubt visibly triumphant now that she acknowledged the full extent of his 'cooperation' with her argument.
"Oh, am I now…? Well," he broke his speech to bring a hand to her face, which he cupped tenderly, the bare portion of his thumb ice-skating back and forth across her cheek bone, "I do think some 'class participation' could help us both…"
He winked at her before his eyes darted to the man who was peering at them intently now via his lens. His ring finger on his other hand, meanwhile, had begun to get discernibly warmer since having closed their proximity.
Hermione's brow arched back with a hint of intimate challenge, given she had just played into their position rather bluntly, but if he really wanted more effort…. Her eyes flicked to the side as much as they could, letting them roll at the looming, intrusive presence, and then immediately rocked her weight forward onto her toes, practically perching, as he suggested, atop his thigh and a hair's breadth from direct contact with his groin. Then steeled herself for the inevitable 'impact' as she captured his lips once more, her head angled in an obvious show of eagerness.
Severus cursed into her lips as the ghosting of her pelvis against his groinal region now fully absolved him of any innocuous physical sensations and immediately produced a boiling of his bloodstream to his extremities – one of them being far more inconvenient than the others. He acquired some mastery of his wits, however, as he ferried his hand down to her hip and very precariously assisted in holding her weight aloft, so that she could not press into him any further, as his cock was beginning to awaken far too speedily for anyone's sense of prudence. He still matched her enthusiasm, humming against her lips before pausing to pull her lower one between his teeth and nibble on it suggestively – wait, why was he doing that? The man hardly looked interested anymore, if anything it appeared as if he was packing up.
Fuck, stop it, Severus!
A soft moan was hidden somewhere in Hermione's exhale of breath against his mouth, visible as a puff of mist in the cold despite what was obviously a lot of warmth in the narrow span between them. She took note of his careful management of her distance, however, so had every intention of beginning to move back…inevitably. There was distinctive shuffling that she was almost certain was their intrusive cameraman beginning to scuttle away.
Though before she could manage it, a group of muggles swiftly rounded the corner, nearly running into them in their haste and while most of them managed to turn wide to avoid them, her back was knocked into by someone's definitely weighty satchel and she found herself smooshed even further into her new husband's body, as he had nowhere else to go but straight into the bricks he was leaning on. Immediately her eyes flung wide for a moment as somehow both their outerwear and his composite layers did very little to soften the fact that she could feel every inch of his person pressed up against her own for a moment, and she did mean that literally. Including the distinctive and not entirely dormant bulge in his trousers.
Well, so much for not wanting to speculate. And if that was only subtle enthusiasm…
"Sorry. Fucking arsehole," she scoffed wryly, quickly hopping back and righting herself before her 'contemplation' became obvious, with transparent speed as she cleared her throat and hoped that her face hadn't turned an even more egregious shade of pink.
"Well, I think we chased that one off. Wonder how many more we've got to deal with."
Tensing his brows together in a visage of contemplative concern for the young witch, Severus found his pupils accosting the various 'ailments' she seemed to be parading. Her face was unnaturally flushed – he'd even say blitchedly so, as if she had thrown back a bottle of strong fire-whiskey – not a level that this meagre temperature, frigid at times though it was, could surely produce. And her pupils had gotten extremely disc-like. Saucers that were almost totally eclipsing the soft honey-brown hue of her retinas.
Yes, she had that damned Bambi look that he found so fucking alluring in such a predictably male way. Though, to be fair, the last time he had seen them as such had been the night prior when her 'ethereal self' had been looking up at him like a bloody prodigy of Venus with his cock lodged in her mouth, sucki–
Stop. it!
Yes, back to observing her . The blush of her skin, the dilation of her pupils, and lastly – before his attention had gotten so irrevocably purloined for a time – her rather clumsy, flustered tone and rate of speech, all indicated that there was an inner life occurring that was far from…. chaste , so to say. Or, so he was inclined to infer.
However, the thought that his person, his actions, his anything really could actually flabbergast anyone, let alone Hermione Granger did give him some pause… Though, also, to be sure, it wasn't the first time he'd noticed such indications…. the night prior at their ceremony he had unearthed all three with the addition of an elevated pulse.
Her neck was brandishing his scarf now so he was unable to clock the throbbing of her neck muscle as he had before, but he could not keep from wondering if it would yield the same results had his eyes had access to its impetus. Not to mention how agitated and muddleheaded she had been for moments at the flat just now… Hmmm.. But then of course, so had he… And for those precise reasons, he could with definition attest to… So… . therefore…what the bloody hell did that mean for her… ?
"You do realise, Miss Granger, that we have a lifetime and then some of that to endure? Unless, of course, we can finagle a way to get a divorce before the baby-making time…" Severus blurted out suddenly, apparently what ounce of his frontal lobe that still held any allegiance to logic, science, and self-fucking-control had decided to safeguard any further thinkings or ramblings for another day in which he could poster himself into a fool. Not that what it had ultimately landed upon to propound was much better. But at least , the opposite of their union – despite the by-product of their also-mentioned physical one – had been introduced .
Hermione angled her head to look up at him from the much safer distance she had backtracked to, slightly incredulous at the remark, though her lips twitched wryly at what was almost a level of …naivety on his part. A strange thing, but it was becoming clearer the longer they interacted that there was no longer really a reason to place his mind so far above her own on a pedestal.
Because, Gods, he had been hiding under a rock for a bit, hadn't he? Almost refreshing, in its own right.
"You don't think that too would draw the gossip columnists like flies?" She challenged jovially, her brows shooting upward for emphasis. "If anything a divorce would draw more attention. I think we should just accept that we both would be condemned to at least some of …. this regardless of the level of intimacy involved. Though, on my part, at least they'll stop speculating about who I'm shagging every other month, so points in that category..."
Severus darted his tongue out to lick his lips which had become chapped from the cold air upon finishing their most recent lip-locking ploy. He'd prefer for the ability to blame it solely on the winter air, however, that was bitterly only a pipe dream. His lips had been drafted for more tours of service on a consecutive basis then he reckoned they'd had ever in his life. No, this was most certainly not just the fault of the frosty breeze.
And to be sure, there was a level of uneasiness, excitement that his body was feeling that was leaving its mark on him outwardly. Well, technically, internally, as the blood flow that had sparked his semi was – obviously – flowing from the inside. Still, it was observable from the outside, to be sure. Well, perhaps, only observable through touch… Still , she had just fallen into him….
Oy! Stop thinking about it. No. One. Fucking. . You. Are. Sporting. A. Fucking. Schoolboy. Semi. Right. Now – Not. at. All.
"Well, on those grounds, I suppose either would give us a titanic amount of headlines. Though, I would argue that a baby would create more of a stir, for the bloody obvious reasons, than a divorce, Miss Granger. Therefore, I can only conclude that you'd rather have a baby than a divorce?" He couldn't help but challenge as he offered her his hand once more and silently suggested that they continue on their journey lest they be tardy.
Hermione's brows furrowed in half-playful scepticism, though she wasn't entirely sure why she found the question amusing. Perhaps the way it was phrased, or that he'd chosen to take that particular conclusion away from her words when it was hardly the overlying point, but she supposed it was a semi-logical assumption to make. If she were expected to make that choice at all. Would it be too presumptive to say neither?
"We've got plenty of time to negotiate or even avoid that, and divorce sounds a lot like giving up to me. Never have been very good at that," she excused casually as she took his hand once more, tucking her free, left hand into her pocket where it continued to radiate a distracting amount of heat. But that was something she would try to over-analyse later. Though it didn't escape her notice that his was of a similar temperature in her own hand.
He eyed her patiently as he tried to collect himself and the bloody mess he seemed to be making, if only internal, before returning casually, and in pure Slytherin style, "I never said that I was 'giving up' either, Wife , just that the idea of the choice between having a baby versus getting a divorce seems to be rather obvious. But, I. Don't. Give. Up. So… I hope you like ancient, Latin names…"
He exhaled in annoyance at her — or himself? — before adjusting her grip in his hand and continuing to gingerly lead them through the ever-growing, morning bustling street. His eyes darted hither and thither, following his stride north.
Hermione side-eyed him, somewhat intrigued in spite of herself. Wasn't exactly something she expected him to speak so lightly of, but at the same time… Surely it was better to joke about it than to awkwardly and uneasily avoid the entire subject like the plague. And it was a better source of irony than other, more physical contemplations.
"Of course, I've always been rather fond of them, actually. Roll off the tongue nicely," she prodded back at his self-degradation, before rolling her eyes in reference to her own archaic epithet. "Though, we can't completely ignore the Greeks…."
If the photographer or any of his compatriots were lingering around still, they were nowhere immediately in sight. Her shoulders relaxed some of the tension they'd been holding, though still kept a weather eye on the horizon ahead of them, as it were. She didn't expect they'd be that easily appeased.
"Hmph," Severus answered in retort to her response to his comment, which thankfully, she embraced with a nice amount of levity as he had just, yet again, put his foot in his mouth. Still, as she seemed to be taking it lightly, even jestingly, in fact, why not continue on and see just how much of a farce he – they – could make of the bloody preposterous "potentiality".
"I suppose so. The Greeks did come first in their novelty and civilization… Well, if it's a boy, do promise that we shan't make his middle name after that of anyone we bloody know, save Minerva. And if you have any fantasies of giving the world a 'regal' 'Severus Jr', I will immediately change my name legally or Avada myself, is that understood, Wife?" He glanced down and asked her as cheekily as he could convey, for, again, they very much were not ever going to reproduce. Surely. If it could be helped….
She snickered softly, looking up at his obviously sardonic features with a crooked smile as they continued along.
"Not a problem. Normally it's the fathers that wish to 'extend their legacy' through either ego or unoriginality. So long as you're immune to both afflictions, I don't think we need to worry. Or we can just hope for a girl. Though between you and Minerva's influence, I'm expecting some habitual alliteration to come into play regardless."
Severus rose a brow at her swap of gender 'preference', always somewhat secretly seeing himself far more able to digest the thought of – if it ever were to possibly occur – fathering a female child and rearing it into the world versus that of his own persuasion. Yes, he was not fond of the idea of being a father. Especially given who his own had been – or rather, what he hadn't been. And so, even the proverbial thought of procreating with Miss Granger and yielding a girl was far more agreeable to gaff about than the dour associations of a child that would only prove to remind him unapologetically of himself. So, in this little, foolish fairytale, let the poor sod – er, rugrat – be a girl.
"Oh, decidedly. Synchronising her with two surnames will certainly prove a challenge, though, I'm sure nothing we couldn't overcome…. Merlin," he paused a moment as he pulled her backwards against him suddenly before stepping onto the next pedestrian crossing as a cyclist whizzed by without looking had almost collided with them – "Fucking imbecile," he muttered against her ear before ushering her forward and continuing his former train of thought.
"Imagine me… a fucking baby strapped to my front as I guest lectured at Hogwarts…. Minnie's request of course, to see her godchild/namesake, etc….. Oy …." he did have a chuckle at the next thought, however, "she'd have a fit if she walked in and saw the infant harnessed to me, leant over a cauldron teaching potions, or even far more alarming, teaching the DADA dueling lessons….."
Hermione expelled a curse of her own at the sudden disruption, catching her balance against him for a moment before straightening properly in time to absorb his next words with a comedic wince.
"Mm, you know, on that note, I think we're going to need a very good babysitter… though can't deny the entertainment factor of seeing you try to terrify first years with a little one wrapped in pink attached to you. Though colour me shocked if you don't manage to transfigure everything black the minute it comes through the door."
Severus groaned and bestowed her with a slanted look of his eyes that incontestably indicated his overwhelming disgust at such a prospect of colour even being introduced to the fantastical equation.
"If you would ever consider attiring the spawn in anything other than black, green, or silver I would be exceedingly disappointed with you. Can't even fathom your wanting to do such a thing – though I suppose, you seem partial to the shade in your own wardrobe. I'm not sure which would be worse upon consideration. Gryffindor colours would also be highly offensive . And as you surely should have been placed in Slytherin, which I think you know all too well, deep in your heart of hearts, Miss Granger, the child, would certainly be a Serpent. You're not going to induce me on that account, no matter how cunning in your argument you try to be," the tall wizard with the ever-gothic aesthetic about him warned his wife gruffly.
The prospect of one day being mildly-forced – or expected – to relent to the act of procreation at the hands of the Wizengamot was a threat Snape certainly planned to avoid, and fight, if he could. It was, however, one he may well have to buden, if all else failed. And therefore, as the ordained champion of his prejudicially marched-upon house – by boots trodden far more viciously than necessary, brutally, even – he did figure that planting some seeds of his own expectations might not go amiss. Perhaps, it was even wise.
And he did have to admit, the devilish glee he would feel upon seeing the horrified faces of a new generation of students realising that the ever-dour, child-loathing former bat-of-the dungeons, and Deatheater had become a father – and with a Gryffindor as the child's mother – was a melodramatic irony too delicious – and shocking – for him to be wholly put off by. Yes, the last laugh there would certainly be his.
Hermione looked over at him with a barely repressed laugh, managing to curtail it into a subtle grin at his very persistent views of infant fashion. Given she had expected him to run for the hills at the mere topic of child-bearing conversation, it was kind of endearing. Very off-base, but amusing nonetheless.
She was by no means interested in procreating right now, much less at the demands of any governing body. But eventually, whenever she chose to do so , she had always thought fondly of the idea. Well, also with inevitable terror given what she had gotten up to as a child, but that was an anxiety attack for another day. As for Severus, she had no idea if he'd ever even prospected the thought in his life, but the fact he was even entertaining the idea in jest and wasn't gagging was certainly intriguing.
"You haven't ever tried to shop for baby clothes, have you?" she tossed out with another cringe of disapproval before immediately chortling at the image.
"Lots of pastels…. Basically only pastels. Though I imagine there have to be house colours out there somewhere. However, where any off-spring of ours would fall…mm, kind of gamble, if you'll forgive me. I dare say the entire Hogwarts staff will be hedging bets since the moment of conception. We both hold at least one 'trait' of all four houses, after all. Though I couldn't exactly see us spawning a Hufflepuff."
"Oy, heavens not. If anything, other than Slytherin, Ravenclaw, I'd say. No offence to Sprout, of course. If I have to, I'll bribe Minnie to allow me to then bribe the sorting hat," he chuckled and gave her hand a curiously playful squeeze. Oy, this conversation was still merrily carrying along, wasn't it? Eh, the more they joked about it, surely the more it meant they thought it a…flippant, frivolous topic…..
"Ravenclaw would be the middle ground, I think, for two intellectuals. Though the idea that the sorting hat can be bought is kind of an hilarious idea…" Hermione agreed wryly, though her attention was quickly shifting to a shockingly mundane looking gentleman in a grey suit who was, at first glance keeping a leisurely pace to their left, though his curious attempts at keeping even with their stride caused him to be punctuated amongst the other, more distant pedestrians on the other, opposing pavement. Experimentally she tightened her grip on Severus' hand and slowed.
"Everything alright?" He inquired softly, though with timbre enough for her to heed, as he noticed the abrupt, fixed pressure of her hands' hold on his but was unsure as to what, or whom, exactly she was precariously negativistic about.
Surely enough the other man slowed as well, determined to stay behind them. Hermione gave an inflated tossing of her pupils and returned to walking normally. Might as well make the man work for it if he was going to stalk them so patently. Though to his credit he did manage to look somewhat like a muggle, which for most wizards was quite an accomplishment.
"Back left," she murmured quietly but with clear emphasis, while the fellow moved to catch up again.
" I'd rather not make it known that we know of his presence, so I'll trust your word, Wife," Severus responded furtively, though his grasp on her hand did tighten, "Likely has a hearing aid charm activated. We can either dismantle it, or abuse it…." he proffered, clearly now fully endorsing and indulging in her former proposal that they retaliate in the face of the Wizengamot's imperious assumption of controlled supervision.
Hermione could practically feel the intrusive presence breathing down her neck, and at a side glance he was carrying a notepad so apparently had been attempting to listen into their jesting excuse for a conversation. The sane route was of course to remain steadfastly silent until he lost interest, but that sounded both dull and frankly uncertain. Hell, he might never leave at that rate. So with the knowledge they were about to turn a corner, she went...a different route, with a barely hidden smirk. At least her lurid and traitorous imagination could be useful for something.
"You know, we should probably invest in proper restraints if you're going to tie me up like that again. Going to have marks for a week."
Her amusement caught up with her by the end of the remark, colouring her tone with levity as she heard the man stumble over his own feet and bump into a woman trying to walk past him.
It took Severus a good moment to fully realise that the comment she had purposefully 'gifted' the leech-y gossipmonger was so lewd and licentious in nature. Indeed, he actively had to take a recess from his stride to compute what she had said before suddenly feeling his cheeks flush and a scratch form in his throat.
Merlin, after all of the carnal content and physical relations he had ingested and been made subject to in the past twenty-four hours, if only by his own doing and the lingering, receding magic involved in the ceremony, the last thing his libido needed now was further, smutty scenarios to envision themselves engaging in. And, by her bloody person, at that.
However, he had been the one to table the second choice of routes, and despite the risk, he'd be remiss to shy away and fail to further assess his biological self-discipline. Must start to wane sometime soon….despite the mention of her being bound at his domination decidedly having sent a flash of zealous heat to his core.
Damn it. Breathe, and control yourself! You fought off Voldemort's mind-reading games, you can control your fucking cock, magically-influenced, or not!
And so, Severus willed to catch himself quickly, despite himself, and once he'd dealt with his terse bout of coughing to 'clear his throat' – and his manhood's cry for recognition – he promptly considered the manner in which he would aid her remark, whilst at the same time reciprocate her level of debauchery.
"Hmm, yes. I suppose it is probably a wise thing to do. One could argue that binding your wrists together with my belt to the headboard was a bit intense, even for soft-form, muggle play – though I did relent and charm them to have some padding, need I remind you. Still, I suppose making a stop at a shop in the future is in order. I've had a mind to pop a ball gag on you, Kitten . You can be quite vociferous when my head is between your thighs, and I do fear for any more noise complaints…"
Already barely quieting a laugh as her husband having nearly choked at the comment, Hermione exhaled a startled chuckle that leant too far south in the balance between flustered and wicked, though it played fairly well into the conversation that was meant to be overheard, surely. Still, what an image. Though his particular choice of pet name almost made her stop in her tracks. That was not something her mind would have been privy to in any kind of realistic way so as to contribute to hearing it in her subconscious the night before. Which alone made her exhale a bit forcefully, and unfortunately visibly , into the air. Flicking her hair out of her eyes with her rapidly warming left hand, she side eyed him with playful suspicion as they rounded the corner swiftly.
"Something tells me you would be the one most disappointed by those results… though if noise complaints are really your concern, perhaps you should invest in your own."
She heard rather than saw their very intent follower grunt as his shoulder hit the brick wall they'd bypassed and she briefly grinned in appreciation.
"Hmm you do have a point, Kitten , I do practically climax at your moans – and as for mine, don't act like the timbre of my voice doesn't make you gush all over me at the drop of a hat as well. All the more to lap up afterwards, I suppose. If I feel in the mood to tidy you up. But even then, we both know where I'll be spitting it…." he rumbled to her lowly, spooking himself a tad with just how far he had retaliated.
Still, she had no chance of knowing if any of these acts were actually proclivities of his or not. And at this point, the jest had clearly inclined itself to be jovially over-the-top, ludicrous, and of a lewd nature. Keep the endorsement going, why not?!
Her brows rose skyward and suddenly the scarf felt exceptionally suffocating, at least when it came to retaining oxygen. Her main reaction, though, was a low whistle of approval at the intensity of his response. Well done…a little too well done. Though she was sure their impromptu tag-along might agree.
"Careful husband, I'm trying to walk straight over here. No thanks to you. I think we'll just have to content ourselves with punishing the neighbours no matter how much they complain, hmm?"
He put on an exhibition of chortling darkly, tugging her figure to his side and clutching it possessively as they continued to walk down the street. Observing the man's anxious look as he strained his spelled ear, Severus bent over to her side to provide his lips with closer access to her ear in a feigned attempt to appear as if he were trying to be especially discreet.
"My goal last night was rather to keep you from being able to walk at all, but if it takes my dirty talk to do the trick, I suppose I'll take what I can get. As for the ball gag, I will jog your memory that you, ultimately, always , give your 'Daddy' . What. He. Wants."
"Well that entirely depends on what 'Daddy ' wants…and what is gifted in return. Clearly wanted to leave marks, though colour me surprised if you don't lose patience with the gag…" She managed to tease back in challenge, if with a noted amount of forced neutrality to her tone.
Not that she didn't retain every word out of his mouth, no that...was informative. But it was with actual relief that she heard the lanky man behind them stumble again, this time causing more of a commotion, either having reached his limits of scandal or forcibly falling back in exchange for not drawing more attention. She finally sputtered out a breathy, if conspiratorial laugh for lack of any other response.
"Well, they'll have plenty of fun with that ... Or be terrified to spy on us ever again."
Severus' left hand began to burn again, this time marginally greater than before. The irony being that it almost exactly matched the level of heat that was far too eagerly beginning to form between his legs at the word "Daddy" coming out of her Lilliputian mouth – just as it had in his euphoric envisages the night before.
Get a fucking grip, man, Merlin.
Right, new plan of action, try to infuse the said subject with a greater grade of facetious buffoonery, he thought to himself as he reverted back to holding her hand once more. The more distance between them, the better.
"Oh, I rather think we've successfully given them just the right amount of fodder to have them coming back for seconds and thirds and fourths for quite some time, Miss Granger," he answered in a stiffer tone than his previous portrayal as he considered her last comment with a staunch amount of puckish disapproval.
"Though, I hardly think your last comment was justified. 'Daddy', whomever "he" may be, I'm certain, would adjust his wants to appeal to the comfort of his 'Kitten' . Well, for a momentary amount of time, at the very least."
She grinned a bit crookedly at that, though was rather thankful that it was far too cold to discern a blush – or so she sincerely prayed – at his lightly defensive tone. But for some very astute reason that she could not fully identify, she certainly didn't doubt it.
"Oh, I didn't mean to accuse, Husband. Just detected a possessive vibe…" she explained, though there was no one source she could be said to have pulled it from. Perhaps just his all around persona, mixed with some of his chosen imagery. "Surely left them on a curious note…."
"Ah, yes, I see. Clever girl. From an outside eye, of course, I'd easily agree to that assessment. Property-kink , to be sure," he remarked almost boredly, though, hopefully not too boredly enough to give her cause for further suspicion, or worse, inspection.
Letting her brow arch at his tone, Hermione stole a side glance at him as they rounded another bend, taking them through a far narrower and less occupied side-street as both her left ring finger and his where it curled around her right hand were both strikingly hot to the touch, even through the knit fabric of his otherwise fingerless gloves. Intriguing.
"Oh a noticeable one... Though I dare say that will be difficult to match next time."
Severus was about to make a rebuttal criticising her teasing lack of faith in his wit, when all of a sudden what felt like a cloud of bodies appeared as if from nowhere to surround them with dogged determination to get either their wands, transcribing quills, or flashing cameras as near the couple as was physically possible lest he fly them away – or so it felt.
Desisting the purchase of her hand to practically envelope her into his side, much as he had done earlier, Severus, thought better than to pull out his wand in a horde of trophy-seeking heathens who could easily abscond with it or better yet, write a page full as to why he didn't deserve it's proprietary return. Instead he effectuated a 'Protego' charm which sent the circle of thirsty journalists back and created an invisible shield about them so as to keep them from encroaching on their personal space yet again.
"Give us some room, please! My wife's quite knackered , you see," Severus called out cheekily, giving the hurriedly-pacing media persons a wink. Last thing he needed was to appear in any way shape or form ungrateful, morose, or indulgently snide.
Hermione couldn't help but shoot him a playful look of impatience, though that was all she managed amidst the chaotic babel of their new – thankfully repelled – 'intrusive' companions. All beginning to shoot out an array of obtuse questions, only some of which she caught and others that were drowned in the shouts of others.
Perhaps they should've stayed on the high street.
"Oy! Professor, how's it feel to be a free man and then get hitched the same day?" – "Does the former head of Slytherin have a thing for Gryffindors?" – "Oy yeah, mate, how many times did you Slyther-in last night?"
They were getting increasingly more obnoxious apparently, not to mention personal .
Muttering a curse of how utterly imbecilic the barrage of questions towards him were becoming, Severus resisted the urge to glare to the heavens and instead forced a rather cheshire smirk as he impishly addressed the 'reporter' that asked the first question.
"Well, I suppose you could say I traded one form of house arrest for a kind that includes an ol' ball and chain," he chuckled and hugged Hermione to his side before giving the top of her head a speedy peck and continuing with a last comment at her slight expense, saying, "though, at least with this 'imprisonment' I'm guaranteed conjugal visits!"
Severus paused a moment to find the third journalist that had "submitted" a query – markedly ignoring the second one for the most blatant of reasons, he hoped – and upon discovering the short, stout man, replied, "Well, i did just say she was knackered, did I not?" Be charming, Severus! "So, let me answer that with a question, how many serpents are purported to sprout from Medusa's head?"
Hermione did the resonate, female duty of rolling her eyes rather dramatically, though couldn't help but laugh at the obvious confusion clouding the man's face, even as questions began to be thrust in her direction with even more speed.
"Let's see if any of them can figure that out quickly enough to call your bluff," she muttered to Severus with a snicker.
Fictional or not, a bit of an over-shot surely. Luckily she was sure he was jesting a bit above their pay grade. She began to hear her name being shouted with more fervour, though, before she could get a proper response.
"Mrs Snape ! How do you think your former red-headed flame feels about all this? After all, your new husband was his most hated teacher, wasn't he?!
"Hermione, Hermione! Adore the scarf, luv! We never see you in a spot of black! Love the oversized look and large knit pattern on you. Is it designer? Or 'homemade'?! Where can we purchase one?"
"Oy, Miss Granger! Has your 'Potion's Master' made you test your new Amortentia yet? Potions, foreplay, eh? Go on, tell the public just what it smells like. Don't be shy!"
The young witch gave a weary groan, first addressing the unfortunate question about Ron with a dismissive shrug. "I'm not bothered in the slightest. It's none of his bloody business, anyway…"
She was probably going to get bitten in the arse for that one later but, oh well. Her eyes skimmed to the next discernable question, and the only half-innocent one of the bunch. She granted them a shrug. "Not sure, it was a wedding gift."
Her gaze shifted to her right suggestively, then reluctantly eyed that final unfortunate enquirer with a sardonic arch of her brow. "...Decidedly no comment. "
Oy, they needed to get out of here.
"Right, that's enough for now. Thanks very much, but we are on a time table," Severus muttered out as pleasantly as he could, given how exhausting an ordeal his patience had just been so subjected to. He dismantled the shielding charm and allowed her vicinity to unplaster herself from his person. Though once unfettered, he did proceed to reach for her hand once more before opening his stride and silently encouraging her to follow suit, leaving the gaggle of gossip-monger geese behind them.
"Mr and Mrs Snape, please, one last question! Have you got any baby names picked out yet!?"
Hermione's eyes rolled skyward again, hurriedly pacing onward to keep up with Severus' longer strides as they tried to vacate the premises, though decided to half-heartedly throw them their last, undeserved bone, if only just because it had already been a topic of conversation.
"Something Grecian! " She called back. / "Something Latin! " He bellowed behind him.
Hearing the unexpected but contradicting echo, Hermione turned back to her husband and laughed at the irony as they continued to scurry away.
"Well, not to jinx us, but that could've been worse…shockingly," she voiced quietly, still keeping a pretty quick pace. Just in case. Though, the sight of their destination looming ahead of them, safely surrounded by a grand mass of milling muggles, was enough to wring an exhaled curse of relief from her lips.
"Oh, thank fuck."
"Here, here, to that sentiment, Miss Granger. I was about to hex the lot of them. Though, I do apologise for the overly macho, male, sexual appeasement. I do pray that some of them at least realised it was meant to come off as largely tongue-in-cheek – as brilliant an actor as I am – it was a bit too out of character, I would assume, for the likes of my character . Regardless, I promise to take the brunt of any backlash from my comments specifically that might be misguidedly directed at you later on…" Severus murmured, his inner guilt and worry starting to seep through now that the event was fading from the present tense.
His hand, however, suddenly disenfranchised itself from that of her own to wrap around her side for the third time in the span of half an hour's walk, guiding her as he protectively held her against him as they began to trod into the massive pooling of passengers making their way into the main entrance of London's grand Kings Cross Station.
"Bloody fuck; and it's only a Thursday. Not even a Bank Holiday either. What are these bloody muggles up to…?"
"Not to worry, it's essentially what they were looking for… not like anyone who knows you would actually buy that anyway…I'm more likely to get shite for the Ronald bits…"
She cringed, but was happy to move on to a different subject – that of the very busy station they were about to make their way into. Only briefly startled by the shift in contact amid their joint relief, Hermione broached no complaint. It was indeed very busy for the time of day, and as they cut through the bustling crowd she tried her best to keep her eyes peeled, as it were, but it would be unfortunately easy enough for even barely-passing magic folk to make their way in.
"Suppose it is getting close to Christmas..." She murmured in an attempt to rationalise the chaos, as they finally made their way inside of the large glass structure.
"I suppose," he retorted with a snort as his fingers pressed into her sides with possessive force as his other hand found hers to foster its placement around his figure for added reinforcement should they get any more tousled about.
"Do keep your eyes particularly peeled, Miss Granger. Things so rarely come in pairs, usually it's threes… ." he hummed as his own dark pupils dashed from figure to figure as he did his best to employ his skill of legilimency, though his hangover – even despite his potion, yes – married with the plethora of sundry voices echoing out all at once made him feel very near to being ill suddenly.
"I'm still not one-hundred percent yet, you see, so the mind-reading advantage is a bit null at the moment… Safe, for now, it seems, though," he rumbled lowly, his fingers flexing again as he, finally, led them onto the muggle platform and forwards to the enchanted brick wall that would lead them to Platform 9 ¾.
"Yes, if they saw us walking, they probably had some idea of where we were headed…." she conceded wearily, giving a muted glance to either side as they approached the seemingly empty expanse of brick with hopeful discretion.
The last thing that they needed to do was to attract any more attention before vanishing from the immediate area – muggle or wizard. Neither could bode well at this point. A large group of mysterious figures popping in and out of a very doorless wall would surely be more an issue than just one quiet pair. Hermione still steeled herself for the inevitable likelihood of more pandering in her very near future, regardless. At least it was a semi-efficient distraction from her other… concerns.
"Right then, Miss Granger. Go on, I'll be right behind you. But do mind yourself on the other side, would you? Last thing I need is to lose you in a sea of fanfare wizards asking for your bloody autograph. A 'Notice-Me-Not' charm might do you well for a moment, until I join you?" Severus advised somewhat more solicitously than he would have liked, given how bloody vigilant he'd already been over and about her person since they'd started off – physically and orally.
"Will do," she assured him as she somewhat reluctantly broke from his grip, muttering a charm under her breath.
Beginning to approach, somewhat quickly, for the sake of staying alert to what awaited her, Hermione passed through the bricks onto the familiar platform for the first time in quite a few years. Granted she was aged 19 when she'd taken her NEWTs, older than most students, but that was still five years ago now.
Though aside from the bizarre nostalgia of the large steam engine paused on the tracks ahead, the main thing Hermione took in was that she decidedly wasn't alone on the platform. At least it wasn't a total shock , but still. It stopped her in her tracks beneath the large iron gateway.
Lovely.
Severus made his way through the waning brick wall upon giving a final few glances to his left and right and found himself stumbling into his wife's back somewhat violently, almost propelling himself back through the portal in an effort not to stumble over her. He immediately tried to catch himself, though, the subsequent effect of that was to grab onto her ever the more tightly, her nearly transparent back to his front.
"Apologies; it seems the magic-folk platform has far more traffic than we would like. Told you…. " he muttered lowly with regards to his former recommendation.
Hermione started slightly at the intrusion, cursing herself for not moving further out of the way. Though her hand went to cover his around her middle, rather content to have it there in spite of herself once she knew, for a fact, that it was him, by his voice.
"So I noticed," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, taking a few steps sideways lest they cause a traffic jam if anyone else decided to come through. Merlin forbid. Once they were successfully on the platform and behind a gathering group of people, she reluctantly broke the disillusionment charm, gesturing him to do the same so she didn't look like a fool talking to herself.
"Right, well," he began as he loosened his grip on her person and forced himself to take a step back once he too, somewhat reluctantly shifted back into view.
"It's 10:48 AM and the train is set to leave at 11:00 AM. This was a gift from Minerva to me so I could depart in privacy , however ..." He licked his lips as his fingers bore into her sides softly.
"See any…signs of 'le troisième'?"
Hermione's eyes lifted, glancing about the area, seemingly passive, as she loosened her scarf around her neck and turned back in to face him before the man she'd just noticed took note of her stare.
"Over to the far left… and directly in front of us, definitely hiding a camera," she muttered quietly, her eyes having pointed in the said direction.
Severus' own pupils shifted to the left and spotted the idiot with a noted swallow of annoyance as he too seemed to finally catch onto their previously hidden presence, and was swiftly alerting his companions.
"Naturally. Well, we were never going to leave here totally unscathed…." He flicked his hair back and inhaled sharply.
Fuck it. He twisted her around and tugged her against him.
Her brow quirked as she settled chest-to-chest with him - or close to it, height difference notwithstanding, their newly established audience failing to fulfil their one useful purpose – keeping her distracted from the intimate lack of distance between them.
"Well, might as well give them one last hurrah. Especially if I'm going to get out of here un-stalked," she somewhat teased quietly, her hands settling against his shoulders.
Severus rolled his eyes, if only internally, before lifting his right hand to take purchase of her cheek and direct it towards his visage.
"Work, with me here, Miss Granger," he muttered before both leaning down and tugging her face so that their lips finally met at a somewhat less haphazard height.
She obediently stood up on her tip-toes to better return the pressure of his kiss. So much for staying alert. Though this was clearly a bit more of a spectacle than their first tentative attempt that had made the front page, it was decidedly less of one than they'd given them just a bit earlier at the beginning of their walk. Though even through the rush of blood in her ears, Hermione took note of the flashbulbs definitely not stopping at one, or two, this time.
Severus found his ring finger burning whilst also being acutely aware that her own seemed to be as well, as it brushed the skin of his face in her grip of his person. However, he was far too distracted by attempting to pretend like a larger conflict wasn't going on within him to study it further. Outside of his own distraction , he needed to focus on the bigger picture – appease these fools so he could go home – and thus, he found his right hand shifting from her facial cheek to that of her southern one.
Hermione hummed against his lips, his grasp on her backside only pressing her further against him and sending more tingles through her person. Her ring was getting dangerously warm again too, and she fisted her hand into the collar of his coat as a new array of flashbulbs went off in her peripheral. Though she was still distantly aware that the goal was to get the leeches to go away... not stand around and watch all morning, which thus far they were determined to do. That meant one of them needed to pull back. Any moment now…
"They don't...seem to be dispersing," she managed to utter against his lips in what she hoped was annoyance, but likely didn't sound like it.
"Likely, because we're giving them something that's already been 'got'," Severus answered with sardonic dejection as he licked his lips and side-eyed the newfound, ravenous 'vultures' with their camera's poised and ready for what they might – or rather, prayed – the newlyweds might do next.
"We need to think of something… more inviting , Miss Granger. Something they wouldn't expect – and preferably, something that will sway the focus more towards my person than yours. The last thing I'll allow myself to do is leave you here to deal with those bloody hyenas on your own," he grumbled under his breath to her, lest any of them have a listening charm in place.
Hermione's head angled as she appraised him with a smile of genuine appreciation at his words. A thought certainly did come to mind once he'd tacked on his final, rather endearing sentiment, though the idea of enacting it made her begin to chuckle aloud.
"That would be nice, yes... All right, I've got an idea. Tad juvenile, perhaps, but it'll keep their cameras focused on you, for sure," She drawled, arching a brow quite briefly for his permission.
A dark brow lifted itself skywards as he listened with intrigued interest as she spoke, her last statement especially stirring.
"'Juvenile', you say? How dangerously worrisome, Miss Granger. Please tell me you're not about to charm our initials into a heart on the side of the Hogwarts Express, now?"
She cracked a wry grin at that ludicrous fancy, decidedly shaking her head, though had begun to lean towards him in preparation for following through with her vague suggestion.
"Nothing remotely that sentimental, I assure you..." She retorted in a breath against his still slightly downturned cheek.
"Praise be to Merlin's ballsack for that," he returned dryly, though a hint of a smirk twitched at the corners of his lips respectfully. His eyes pursued hers in avid curiosity as he could see her mind spinning, almost hesitantly, as if she were making sure that he was giving her his full, concrete, consent.
Assuming at the going rate he wasn't about to protest, Hermione pushed herself back onto her toes so she was seemingly speaking into his ear, "I will feel a twinge guilty about taking your scarf now though…."
With that as Hermione's only true warning – though surely blunt enough – she then trailed her lips slightly down his jaw, the gesture no doubt appearing coquettish, but, really, she was picking her location with decided precision. The man only left so much exposed skin that wasn't his face or his fingers, alas. Finally, securing a spot that would peak out rather abruptly from his collar and not be fully covered by his hair, she latched her mouth onto the skin of his throat and suckled with clear intention to leave a bruise.
Severus swallowed as her lips whispered into his ear, his fingers simultaneously gripping her waist to help steady her weight, which was now on her toes, and he abruptly began to decipher her quizzical words. Before, however, his brain could fully adjust to what she was, surely, about to instigate, the little vixen had already begun.
His jaw clenched, violently, as he felt her errant kisses landing on his cheek and meagre jawline before letting out an involuntary exhalation as her lips began to suckle on the patch of skin she had ultimately decided to take purchase of – what the fuck was she doing?
He knew what she was doing, of course…. But why….was it….eliciting such a ….? Oh, nevermind!
After she'd decidedly worried the flesh with enough suction to burst a couple of blood vessels – and having clearly grasped the attention of their onlookers, she gently released, pulling back with a faint nibble to admire her work.
"Hmm. Not bad," she murmured, fisting her heated left hand into her sleeve and lifting it to subtly brush the dampness from his skin, before innocently glancing upward to study his reaction.
Even through the cloth he could feel the bright heat of her ring as she wiped his neck clean, causing him to scowl obscurely in his confusion as he noted that his own ring was, also, quite hot, itself. What the bloody hell was that about, anyways?
Regardless, now was not the time to try and dissect that anomaly.
"Well, judging by the multitude of flashes, currently, I'd say you chose very wisely. Though, I am seriously lamenting my practise of generosity earlier..." he commented drolly as his hands flexed at her sides.
"What am I supposed to tell Minerva?" He questioned mostly in jest as the obvious answer of the truth by no means harboured any content that would provoke an inquisition.
"A duel with a hoover is quite popular," Hermione teased with a slightly flustered chuckle, letting her hair fall in her face to provide some shielding against the rather egregious efforts of the publicity hounds, and hopefully also hide the flush of her cheeks. Though the intrusive camera work had slowed down, at least, for now.
"Ha, very amusing, Wife," he snarked as his fingers loosened gingerly before he pursed his lips to ask, "Though, I do have a request for you as I make my exit posthaste, as should you..."
Hermione scoffed lightly in abject agreement as she snuck a glance to the side.
"Oh believe you me, I plan on it," she insisted, returning her focus to his mysterious lead in. "What's your request?"
"As we've painted it, we've been at this for a while – or rather, as they've somehow allowed us to paint this, for now. Therefore..." he paused, to kiss her chastely just to have some level of teasing retribution, "I'd hate for even the cheapest of journalists to think that I hadn't fucked you sideways on our wedding night. Perhaps, as you make your exit, Miss Granger, be a bit less sure-footed than you normally might be?"
Eyes narrowing slowly in playful disapproval, Hermione couldn't help but snicker softly, nonetheless.
"Mm, fair enough. I suppose we do have a reputation to uphold now, don't we…?" She adjusted his coat from where it'd been bunched under her grip and let go of him, rather reluctantly, though nudged his jaw upward lightly.
"Well, I suppose I'm going to get out of here whilst I can. Chin up, husband, wouldn't want to block the view."
"Tart ," he muttered, as he pushed her away from his figure with a performative smirk (or was it?), decidedly forgoing a more formal farewell. "I'll be in touch."
He glanced round for a last lingering moment before heading – slowly – towards the tracks, hoisting himself up into the Hogwarts Express before throwing himself into the nearest compartment.
Bloody Hell, what a fucking day it had been. Thankfully, he would have another good twenty-four hours of respite until he wanted – was expected – to contact her again.
Hermione laughed to herself once more, even as she rather swiftly made her way back towards the entrance of the platform. Her most recent actions had ensured most of the attention lingered on his entrance to the train, but that didn't mean it was foolproof.
This was going to be almost as much fun as it was trouble. Almost.