Hey everyone! We're mostly on time this week - well, it's before going to bed on Sunday night, so we say that counts! So, as predicted, this did not end up being anywhere near as short as we expected (who knew?!), but we figure Sev and Minerva deserve the same if not more attention than Hermione and Ginny got a few chapters back! So, apologies for the lack of direct Snamione chaos, but there's plenty to discuss!

We want to give a huge thanks to our new beta Marilynn aka hizqueen4life! Thank yoouuu! You definitely made our lives much easier!

Cover art, as always, by OpalChalice - Enjoy and please let us know what you think! As always, we appreciate each and every one of you 😁

~ 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 VIII: The One-Track Mind

"Friendship above all ties does bind the heart; And faith in friendship is the noblest part." – Roger Boyle, 1st Earl Of Orrery

~•~

Thursday, 27th November, 2003 – 11:05AM

Amongst the small and unruly crowd on the platform, Minerva McGonagall stood rather casually, observing both the oblivious forms of her former students-turned-friends – if a couple of decades apart - quickly disperse from one another in opposite directions, with keen and increasing curiosity. Clearly, as she had half expected, their spite for the attention-seeking media and the controlling arm of the ministry had won out over their common sense that might've otherwise encouraged them to go silently into the fray. Not that she could exactly blame them. However, she could only assume, as notoriously clever as they both were known to be, they had to be aware that any chaos they had started would swiftly come back around to bite them irrevocably in the behinds. Probably far more swiftly than they had any concept of. She, rather unfortunately, did – at least by insinuation.

Regardless, neither of them had taken note of her presence, too distracted by the flashing bulbs and potentially even by each other, so she remained still and silent until the moment that the young lioness had exited the platform with mostly efficient subtlety. Even then, the Headmistress' first move was to pull her wand from her voluminous sleeve and wave it nonchalantly, sending one of the camera-toting men about to follow Hermione through the barrier sprawling flat into the ground, as he 'mysteriously' tripped over his own feet.

Without another pause to assess what was certainly minimal damage, she hiked up her robes and stepped over his splayed form, heading swiftly onto the train herself. She doubted it would take her long to find Severus, but she was rather glad he didn't quite expect to see her yet. This was going to be an interesting voyage.

~•~

Meanwhile, upon confirming that the ex-student, who had been one of his most inimitable migraines for the last decade of his tenure at Hogwarts, and who quite disconcertingly had just been titled his wife, had accomplished exiting King's Cross without harm, folly, or falling victim to any class of accostment, Severus Snape allotted himself promotion to a far more private compartment on the large steam engine. In fact, he found himself suddenly sat in the last, left-side niche of the end passenger railcar; a seat he had so often employed whilst as a student occupant. One with a myriad of memories both pejorative and jubilant, and some even, arcane. However, he figured, despite their array of sentimental, emotional 'shades', there was that old proverb that stated that familiarity breeds comfort ? Or damn, was it contempt ?

Lovely.

Regardless, it was a space he knew well, and in which he could 'exist' and 'occupy' with some ease. And ease, for Severus, certainly did breed tranquillity. Indeed, for given how greatly he'd just spooked himself with his exuberant committal to his former 'role', paying no heed nor regard to the thespian advisory that less, can in fact sometimes, be more, the Potions Master threw his coat and then himself into the worn window-hand seat with abandonment.

Because, 'in control' he certainly had not been, nor was so in his current impetus. How he'd managed to hide the fact that he was getting dangerously aroused whilst they were so engaged was beyond him - even with the addition of the willpower he'd learnt from his Death Eater/Triple Spy days - he had been quite jeopardising about it all.

Nevertheless, he seemed to have subjugated his unabating horniness for a time. Thanks be to Merlin. Gods, how utterly discomfiting it would be to have had to wank off in a bloody Hogwarts Train loo before meeting his truest friend.

~•~

Minerva discovered the former Potions Master in the very back of the train, unsurprisingly, looking more than a little strained. No surprise there either. Really the only shock to be had was the fact that he hadn't seemed to have heard her coming. The famously attentive former triple agent was either getting rusty or was even more distracted than she'd previously thought.

"Busy morning?" she piped up, regardless.

Severus adjusted himself in his seat to be less insolent and more…adult ?

"Oh, I don't know, Minerva," he began with acidic scorn as his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, "I'd say it was a bit jarring to say the very least. Had a lovely little morning's read….." he snorted and rolled his eyes, still ignoring the elephant in the room for the time being.

"And, pray tell, how was your breaking of fast?"

Minerva arched her brow, though didn't allow his sarcasm to derail her otherwise.

"So I noticed... But mostly fine. I'm eager to get back to the school grounds. Home, rather. Not nearly as much as you, I'm sure, but nevertheless. I wasn't exactly bred for legalities," she replied, deceptively casual in tone as she stepped into the compartment and sat across from him, though she continued to study him.

"Hmm, nor I," he commented as he glanced out the window at the flock of media pervading the platform, some of whom were certainly debating whether or not to pathetically run adjacent to the rustic train as its gears began to turn and its smoke horn blew. He sighed blearily before glancing across to his friend's weary, yet generous visage. Thank Morgan le Fay for the day Minerva McGonagall had strode commandingly into his life. That was for bloody certain

He did wonder, however, if she were purposefully evading the direct discussion of the Daily Prophet 's bomb, or if she were, more irritatingly, perhaps insisting that he would be the rightful one to proffer it as a subject matter, and therefore, was purposefully waiting on his behalf.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her teasingly, "Did you happen to catch the shockingly factual opinion piece on page 7 about the variants of Muggle superstitions and how they affect our world through theirs…."

"Mm, think I missed that one," Minerva shot back with marked disinterest, her brows vanishing into the brim of her hat in unison as she observed him over the rims of her spectacles.

"No mention of ceremonial habits associated with the modern institution of marriage, I take it?"

"Oh, piss off," Severus grunted with an ornery glance of side-eye, as he placed his profile in the crib that his left hand had made as its elbow rested his upper weight against the edge of the window.

"You would have been perfectly content to talk in circles for as long as it took for me to break down and broach the subject, wouldn't you have, Minnie?" he shot his left brow to the heavens arching it with as great a point as his muscles would condone.

"Well, of course. Bloody well have to with you. Saves more time and effort than trying to interrogate it out of you," the world weary educator shot back with a scoff of dismissal.

After the decades she'd known Severus Snape, first as a student, then a coworker, and finally a friend, she would never be one to call him forthcoming in any respect. But – that didn't mean he didn't possess his own, easily identifiable weak points. And patience was certainly one of them. A lack there-of, rather, when it came to any subject causing him immediate distress or vexation. Meaning no such topic would ever be far enough from his mind to truly remain undiscovered for very long.

"So, it seems you went the smart arse route with it all."

Severus raised his other brow to meet that of its brother, his forehead creasing in apprehensive conjecture, "How. Much. Did. You. See. Just. Now? And don't spare me my ' modesty' ."

The older witch made a show out of her contemplation, humming as though deciding how to answer most accurately.

"Well by the time I arrived you were already being surrounded, so 'making a spectacle of yourself' certainly applies," she described with a dismissive hoot of almost-laughter, letting her attention drift southward and raising a brow slightly at the growing swell of red just above his collar.

"And judging by that I can assume the method. Though it seemed to get your wife a mostly undisturbed exit. I still had to step in and disrupt one straggler myself…"

"Well, that was the lucent endgame, dear. After all, both of us are well attuned to the magnanimous fact that I live to serve anyone but my own being. And as such, I am more than willing to stick my neck out in the stead of someone else. Quite literally in this case," he sneered, with a self-deprecating eye roll, even slight detestation at the aged, courtships with sentrial duty that he was, still , apparently, unable to keep himself from continuing to woo.

"Though, in all seriousness, I couldn't just let the girl – woman – wander back home without some plan of a decoy to distract them? Even at my wretched, humiliating expense…. Wouldn't have been very connubial of me, now would it?"

He sighed before shedding a querulous scowl as his hand came up to finger the bit of bruised skin peeping out of his elevated cravated collar and glowered across to Minnie.

"How… renowned is the bloody thing?" Severus snipped, pursing his lips in silent reprimanding at the ironic kinship of the blasphemy with regards to its subject. Something he had with severe un -intention allowed to cross his lips. Merlin, the 'Dad-esque' jests surely couldn't already be coming…?

Minerva's lips took an upturn with wry amusement, seeming to assess the man with careful curiosity, given the nature of the question. And the apparent state of his obliviousness to its answer. A strange thing, that.

"Well, it's certainly noticeable. Convenient choice of location, though, at least…" she eluded attentively, delicately pressing the idea into his metaphorical field of view.

Severus brought a large hand to the left side of his neck, dipping his fingers under the starched fabric and winced as their pads hiked the ridges and summits of the meandering scar tissue from that fatal tango with Nagini so long ago. Though the nerve-tissue of the scar mass itself had been long dead, the area around it was certainly bruised from Hermione's assault. And, he could easily tell that, given the circumference of the arena of tenderness he could feel from the burst capillaries, his wife had, effectively, covered almost the entire surface of the scar with her petite mouth.

Merlin . Why?!

His face blanched, twisting into a mien of flummoxed discontent before he asked Minerva somewhat coarsely (though only directed at himself), "… Why? Why on earth would she… want to touch me there… .? It's… embarrassing. Let alone, surely repugnant for her… "

The headmistress permitted her eyes to roll briefly at that overwhelmingly negative take, though didn't expel any true surprise. A habit he would never properly outgrow.

"I highly doubt she – nor anyone of this particular generation – is any stranger to scar tissue, Severus. I wouldn't assume," she corrected with mostly passive fondness. "Certainly managed to provide some camouflage."

Severus' brows rose staunchly in genuine surprise at Minerva's judgement on the matter and the corrugation betwixt his ever-stern brows folded into itself even more.

"Are you suggesting, Minnie, that Miss Granger noticed my normally unaccounted for battlescar, assumed I was without my salve, and therefore, inferring that I was likely self-conscious about it, decided to take it upon herself to provide a bit of 'coverup' for it on my behalf….?" he inquired about her with a brisk, almost clinical tone that lent itself well to his normally 'lock-jawed' delivery.

"...I think she decided to hit two proverbial birds with one salacious stone," she translated with a flagrant hint of a chuckle, shaking her head at his stalwart cynicism.

"Not that there were too many variable options to choose from, given your tendency to cover yourself from top to tail, but certainly a telling choice."

"How. So. Minerva?" Severus countered with speed and punctuation, sitting up in his seat gently as he erected his felled head from his hand and stared at her with vice inquisitiveness.

"Well, cleverness and consideration are better utilised together than either could be separately, no?" she challenged with a telling wag of her brows. "At least in situations, like this one, where you've a common enemy."

"I suppose something could be said for that. Still feel a bit like Frankenstein's creature with the girl…. However, if she wasn't repulsed, I must remember to thank her for her compassion. Though I will need to make some new salve immediately…."

"May as well. Something tells me you'll be having to deal with more cameras in your all to near future than you've previously been accustomed to," Minerva returned with a precautionary lilt to her otherwise neutral tone. It could be said to be a fairly easy-to-come-by assumption, of course. But knowing the Ministry's all-in mentality, she doubted it was too necessary a warning.

"Though I imagine you'll have plenty to handle upon resettling in."

"Oh yes, reacquainting myself with Spinner's End proper after popping in and out for years on end will certainly be a cathartic experience. And the most vexing part of that statement is I'm actually not sure if I was being mordant or not…." the raven-haired wizard respired a gust of air from his lungs he had not realised he'd been retaining.

He suddenly felt utterly exhausted – though, given his pleasant slumber – and then some – he was quite distressed that it may just be of the emotionally agitated variety. And as someone who actually had quite a boisterous underbelly of such 'inner-life', though damaged significantly through decades of compartmentalisation and self-inflicted denial to feel , Severus Snape was not keen to examine any opening door to that viking-like Hel. Most noticeably, if any of the content within that simmered cauldron of humours had anything even remotely to do with her .

"Not to mention the addition of a spouse…one day….should we go that route, of course….. Though the thought of her contending for such a bizarre living arrangement is laughable at best."

"Perhaps you should wait and be negative about things when they're actually relevant," the witch suggested, directing a meagre glare in his direction.

"Just focus on the present, Severus, for now. And its advantages. You get to go home, wand in hand, and not be immediately harassed. At least what media presence they have given you thus far is, by majority, neutral to positive…. "

"Yes, well I do believe things are about to be upset sooner rather than later…." Severus offered up with noticeable vacillation, his left hand contracting excitedly as his eyes darted between hers judiciously.

"And that may be true…" Minerva drawled a tad wearily in reluctantly accurate agreement. " But all the more reason to appreciate what isn't yet a shiteshow, yes? At the very least you two seem to be …. collaborating."

Arguably not the best place to start, but it would grow to be a very important and very useful aspect of their exchange the more they were shoved into further shenanigans. Not to mention, it was likely the one and only time the headmistress could openly interrogate him about their willfully induced exchanges thus far without looking like an abject gossip monger herself.

Severus ran his hand over his face before covering his mouth to ensconce a droll smirk as he eyed her, debating if he should comment further on her very apposite word choice just now.

"' Collaborating' , you say? Hmph, why, because we went through with getting wedded, walked to the train station together, and I granted her permission to give me a bloody hickey in front of a legion of ravenous media personnel. Of which, by the way, I can't believe you're not admonishing me more for…"

"Oh believe me, there's time," McGonagall returned adeptly, giving him a patented look of disapproval – softened by pure, unmitigated intrigue.

" However – before I go about admonishing you, I'd really like to know what all I should be so disapproving of. So out with it then. You woke up, finally permitted to read the Daily Prophet , only to find yourself on the bloody front page, centre – obviously you were displeased…."

Her brows shot upward and her head angled south as she gestured a still-gloved hand out towards him, awaiting the inevitable but reluctant addition of his filling-in of the blanks.

Perceiving his most trusted friend with a survey replete with chary discernment, Severus Snape pushed his lips forward in classified amusement as he wondered to himself if she, herself, was pleased by the length of time with which she was able to keep her tongue mostly bit, or, if she had forfeited her resolve far sooner than she had willed herself to.

The concept of resisting to interrogate him on his reception of the blitz attack was certainly not an area with which Minerva would have any self-control. Indeed not, for as gallant and strict as her students might view her, as a whole, in the classrooms, corridors, or offices of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall was certainly anything but those qualities when in private with adult company. Adult company often specifically being that of the former Potions Master.

Yes, the pair were far nosier, more gossip-oriented, more judgmental, and more wickedly, sardonically jovial when together than any student would rightly suspect. And as such, he would be remiss, not to mention a bloody fool, to mistake her inclination to those indulgent traits to be bridled just because the subject matter was of the more serious nature, and also had to do with him . Merlin, if anything those factors would only make her cat-like curiosity all the more immediate. Much to his woeful chagrin. Tack on the fact that the woman's intuition and deductive abilities were akin to those of Sherlock Holmes, plus his bloodhound companion, she had apparently concluded that their dramatic final act at the station surely had to have been preceded by other, augmenting prior ones – which in turn, made Severus the equivalent of being a whale in a barrel. There was no escape from her pryings with such gold material to mine, that was for certain.

"Well, well, the cat has, finally, come out to play. You do know what they say about that, Minnie? Curiosity does, in fact, kill the poor dear, perhaps you should heed the warning?"

The older professor regarded him with forced patience, though didn't exactly back away from the accusation. Far from it, in fact, for he did forget the penultimate aspect of the over-used adage and one she'd be derelict indeed if she didn't remind him of. For she had known the man across from her since he was a boy, and if there was anything he should regard and inevitably support , it was the pursuit of the unknown. Be it the Dark Arts, a closely guarded secret, or just the latest gossip, seeking out answers was an oft-abused specialty in his arsenal of talents. To the point that she could freely laugh should the former spy's response encapsulate anything even remotely near the encouragement to mind her own business.

"And satisfaction brought her back. Now do stop stalling and get on with it. As one of the parties responsible , at least in part, for this scenario – perhaps I would like to know what kind of Frankenstein's monster I have helped to bring into this world."

Severus sighed at her fondly, making a half-hearted effort to roll his eyes though they quickly fell to land on hers and he was unable to keep from gifting her an impressed smirk.

"Touché, Minnie, touché, I fucked myself over royally with the use of that colloquialism, didn't I? I'm rather narked," he grunted at himself as he crossed his ankle over his left knee and mulled over how to proceed.

She was the only person he'd ever truly confided in, however, the desire to beat and bury all that had transpired over the past twenty-four hours – to hastily pretend like it had not fucking happened – was titanic compared to the minute section of the scientist in him that was always questing for further knowledge and understanding of every artifice of life around him, even including his own. At times. So, he'd have to toe the line between the two and make sure to pay greater homage to the former, more substantial instinct than the lesser, though truer, latter one.

"Well, you'll be cruelly delighted to know that I woke up with a fucking hangover, predictably you likely assumed my immediate source of comfort once I left last night. Well, it bit me in the arse. So, that certainly didn't make the discovery of seeing my mug of a face kissing an ex-student who was now my wife any more digestible… Fucking troglodytes sent a bloody mole in, it seems…. Kingsley knew nothing of it, so he said…"

"He suspected , but was rather miffed about the potentiality, true," Minerva semi-agreed blandly, giving a wry glance out the window. "Mostly in the legal sense – neither of you had actually signed the bloody document at that point, so it wasn't exactly lawful for them to even take such liberties. But regardless – 'the morning after the night before' was not a pleasant experience, I take it?"

"Not as bad as it could have been. Actually managed to retrieve a restful night's sleep…." he offered with errant casualty despite the mammoth statement that it was, for Minerva knew more than anyone alive just how abhorrent his nightmares could be . Much like the lasting effects of a proper LSD trip years later, so too had the Cruciatus Curse embedded its effects into the annals of his psychic nervous system, and on more than one occasion his dear Minnie had held vigil as nurse and ally next to his writhing, clammy, contorting person as he suffered almost worse a fate than the thing itself – for a mirage of ghosts and images almost always accompanied the phantom curse's symptoms. And bless the dear witch, she always remained through the night.

"... Likely , due to torpid effects that fire-whiskey has in great fistfuls," he supplemented with haste lest she try to acquire his hypothesis for such an incongruous version of his slumber.

"Well that must've been a unique experience, already," Minerva acknowledged with a succinct mental note, though was swift to gesture for him to continue past that seemingly innocuous detail, which he still took pains to reference.

"So freedom agrees with you. Then you were rudely interrupted, I presume. And then what?"

"Bloody hell, Minerva," Severus chided with a glare.

"I worry that Albus' portrait is spending a bit too much time in your ear….He always was the bloody epitome of the Spanish Inquisition between us three…. However , if you must get a precise order of events, after that I swiftly contacted Miss Granger, informed her of Kingsley's sage advice, showered, had a hangover tonic, and waited for her arrival. We chatted for a moment as Nyx took off for Cokesworth ahead of me after leading her to my 'jail cell' , and then, we were on our way….." he listed off hurriedly, glancing down at his left hand absentmindedly as his ring began to throb ever so faintly. Though it was peculiar this time. Not like the others where the white-heat was pulsating and almost vascular . This was more a pang of….well, longing …. Hmm, very curious…

"No, I'm spending a bit too much time listening to teenagers and their melodrama. This is at least interesting," Minerva dismissed with a flippant wave of her hand, arching a brow at his concise summarisation of the morning's events. A bit too concise.

"However, you're skimming and effectively eradicating any areas of said interest. At what point did your chatting evolve into a publicity stunt? You don't collect a gaggle of gossipmongers that large just in the mere hope of getting something worth printing."

Heaving forth a suspicion of reconciled cooperation as he clearly was not going to circumvent her dogged pursuit for intel, Severus allotted to informing her of the walk's events, but with an air of restraint, to be sure. If the woman wanted detailed specifics she was going to have to pull some teeth to get them from him. And even then, he would decidedly play off the severity of the acts. Especially the consequences of them to his biological person. Though, if he could talk to anyone about that most…intimate of subjects it would be her. However, certainly not with regards to Miss Granger.

No, it was a fluke, that was all. Fostering remnants from the ceremony as he had told himself for the umpteenth time that day.

"Fine, Minnie, I'll spill. After we left, we had a little… debate as to how we should handle our response – if any – to the Ministry's powerplay. And after much ceaseless prattle on her end – don't give me that look, we both know she loves to drone on when she's intellectually stimulated," (poor choice of word, Severus!) , he paused, regrouped, and inhaled sharply, "- she finally wore me down into agreeing to go along with my , originally proposed, schoolboy-kneejerk reaction of telling them to 'fuck off' by doing whatever the hell it would be that they'd least expect us to do…"

"So…that is your long-winded way of saying that you were the one to originally suggest playing into the charade so as to infuriate the higher powers?" Minerva decoded subtly with a lift of her brows, though despite the initial suggestion of dissent in her practised tone, her lips twitched in an acknowledged touch of mirth.

"Sounds about accurate. Though it also doesn't exactly surprise me that you then tried to back out of it – and, of course, she wouldn't let you. As …diplomatic as she strives to come off, spite is certainly one of her stronger motivations."

"Hmph, well, Minnie, as you so regretfully know, the girl should've been in my house. I'd say that right there is just one of her many traits that justify my nearly decade-long feud with you over this matter…" he trailed off before bestowing her with a rather blusterous smirk of self-satisfaction as his ankle flexed upwards as if to place a full stop on the matter.

"But yes, that is more or less, what occurred. I did try to be the mature party for a time, but she really wouldn't cease to go on about it so, I concluded that silencing her one way or the other was more beneficial to my mental health in the long run, than not. Much prefer any ire we're likely to receive by the Wizengamot than verbally be reminded of her fifteen-page Potions papers ..."

"Oh please, as though she would've reached any sort of potential. Not exactly a fault of yours, mind you, but she certainly would've been treated like an outsider by at least a vocal minority of her house mates and that isn't the most encouraging environment," Minerva protested with a deeply worn frown, shaking her head.

They could discuss house traits and tendencies for many an age, but in the long and short of things, situational proclivities were an entirely different obstacle. It was the only reason she hadn't thrown the Sorting Hat out the window long ago, truth be told, because while it took breeding into far too high of esteem, it had also spared certain parties a lot of misery and loneliness in the process. At least past the point of certain generations.

"She would've also done well as a Ravenclaw, but the practicalities of how long it would take her to get into the common room every night because of her penchant for over-analysis are astronomically difficult to calculate."

Snape chuckled heartily at that, leaning forwards slightly in his seat as he redistributed his weight and granted Minerva a short nod of amused approval.

"Quite right on the last point, my dear. I'll concede to your first one only because I am such a gentleman , though I still feel you may be incorrect regarding some of your theories. Nevertheless, we can continue that spent parley another day. Perhaps, even with her present ?" he raised his brows in mock shock at the suggestion before condoning his face to retire to it's usual, stoic disposition. Right, where were they?

"I'm sure she'd find that … entertaining . Regardless – you were saying?" she urged with droll expectation, figuring without a doubt that she would have to continue to encourage any further information he would provide. It would be far too much to ask during such an extensive journey that she would gain any unimpeded access to his train of thought.

"You've agreed on something , shockingly enough…."

He snickered and stole a glance out of the window before licking his lips and glancing back at her to acknowledge the woman's ode to perseverance, "More like a bulldog to a bloody chewtoy than a feline, but…. Yes , we agreed to…. Beat. Them. At. Their. Own. Game…." he tilted his head to the side softly before flicking back the curtain of raven-hair that suddenly obscured his right profile.

"I'll leave you to your deductions, Miss Marple …." he sniggered to himself puckishly, though it soon turned to an upside down crescent as another dull, almost cold – yes, that was it! – throb pulsed from his wedding band.

"Well you can leave me to whatever you like, but if it's all going to end up in print anyway, I don't see what you're trying to be subtle about," Minerva shot back a tad boredly, contending with his tight-lipped demeanour.

"Or are we trusting tabloids to convey the information with any degree of accuracy?"

Severus raised his hands in deferential surrender before having them fall on their respected armrests, though he still held a rather coltish look in his eye.

"Well, that does remain yet to be seen, however, the likelihood of our various antics not drawing widespread coverage – when the aim was to shock, and thus 'scold' the ministry – are near impossible, I'd say…" he bit the right side of his bottom lip as he threw the remaining issue to the left and briefly contemplated his life choices.

Fuck .

"Mmhm," the older woman replied with succinct and yet impatient affirmation, watching him unblinking with undeterred curiosity. This was going to be a very, very long voyage indeed. At least it certainly would be if she didn't get him to prate on something more interesting, or to finally give up the goods properly.

"Severus, you're still talking and yet saying absolutely nothing. Is that not one of your least favourite traits in others, that I have heard you complain about many a-time? And yet are embodying it as we speak?"

"Right you are, Minerva, right you are," he retorted, making a rather deliberate effort to showcase the scratching of his upper forehead with his right middle and index fingers – an inward pointing 'V' – before abandoning the gesture altogether to pay homage to her inquiry.

"We engaged in a variety of little…stunts, if you will, the first of which was where I, quite, effectively, got her to finally be quiet, by kissing her… a bit. Was there, perchance, a nearby photographer lurking behind a distant building? Likely…. But that's all. If you see any photos of her figure being pressed roughly against my own and into a brick wall that was not my doing – well, not entirely. A murder of adolescents came through and knocked her form into mine… Fucking inconvenient, that was…"

Right, well done, Severus. Your best mate surely won't pick up on that little hiccup of a slip up. Imbecile.

" Ah , yes. Should've figured it wasn't exactly new intelligence when there was such an unusually lukewarm response to your snogging on the platform," she responded without too much legitimate surprise, though the clear level of mirth in her expression was difficult to properly subdue.

"The day anyone with a camera doesn't immediately go into a frenzy over public displays of affection is the day that they've seen too much… I can only assume that was at least part of the point?"

Minerva's brow arched in what amounted to a clear challenge to her own words, though whether he would or even could latch onto that in his current state of what appeared to be dread, she could only guess at.

"It was the only reason, Minnie," Severus countered with a dour flattening of his forehead and eyebrows as he let the suspicion of her comment hang between them for a moment longer like a bit of tissue paper in the wind.

"After what was on the front page I couldn't exactly be seen with her and be anything but…. engaged . So, I did what I had to do to…corroborate their…portrayal of us…." he added with finality, praying to Merlin that would be enough material for her to swallow and be somewhat sated. At least for her inner feline to have a nap for a time.

"But Severus…" the headmistress trailed, fighting to catch his eye for a moment as she reached the point of her current state of pestering. Normally she would laugh off his attempts at being delicate, but in this particular situation, there were more than a few idiosyncrasies associated with his actions that she would much rather know the true extent of. Particularly given the series of events that were swiftly to follow.

"How exactly is corroborating their vision in any way defiant? You're clearly skipping the part where you actually do anything that would infuriate or inconvenience the ministry in any real way. Which is fine in theory, but their quills had to be scribbling up a storm about something. And they're not going to sell a column with nothing but a lot of inference bookended by a paragraph or two of lurid detail of your implied heavy petting. You had to have supplied them something, however tongue-in-cheek it may have been delivered or they'd be too busy fabricating details to follow you around this long."

"Fucking hell, Minnie. At the risk of spearing Ares left testicle with his own sword, lest I shock you," he sneered at her in initial, playful jibe, "if you really want to know, what we did to further our retribution after the 'heavy petting' ploy," he halted a moment to look her squarely in the eye as if almost challenging her to be aghast – though she was far saucier than she looked, so he knew that was rather unlikely – "We went on to hold hands, spoke briefly about the trials of divorce versus baby-naming, only then to go on and loudly have a verbal 'replay' of the various ' romantic events' of our marriage night…"

He paused to lick his lips which had become dry with both his recent acidic tone as well as his lengthy monologue before he finished his divulgence, adding, "And before you moan that I'm cheating you of those specifics, they include my binding her wrists with my belt, to the point that marks were, apparently, left, leading her to insist that we soon invest in proper carnal restraints. Followed by my rebutting that I did charm them to be somewhat padded but that a trip to our local BDSM shop could surely be arranged, however, whilst there I was rather interested in also purchasing a ball gag as we've been receiving several noise complaints….. Etcetera, etcetera, perhaps a spit kink of a various nature was mentioned, but I'll keep that detail to myself and for you to read about… Otherwise, that's – basically– it…" he half lied smoothly, his hands coming up to cross over his chest in a defiant signature of denouement.

The headmistress barely repressed a snort of laughter, trying to somehow look disapproving and quiet a snicker in the same fell swoop, and only partially succeeding. Granted, she wasn't actually shocked – far from it really, but she had expected it would've taken at least a fair interval for either party to discover the other's wicked sense of humour, much less find a way to collaborate them into a combined assault on the public. She had decidedly underestimated them both in that regard. Either that, or her already esteemed view of their compatibility was still lacking in comparison to the growing reality.

"Ah, so you hit them where it hurts – in their delicate sensibilities. Now I see. Well, that's going to be a fun series of letters. I'll expect copies."

"Oh, sod off, Minerva. I do hope you know that we've both settled that your given name shall be this fictional child's middle appellation, no matter the bloody gender. And it will be a Slytherin even if I have to bribe the Sorting Hat myself," he added with a huff and a glance out the window before hastily doing a double take to her to correct, "Though, if the gods do exist, I'm hopefully sterile and we shan't have to worry about the spawn of Hades being born any time soon."

"Well about fucking time someone names their 'spawn' after me. After all of these years in rudimentary, magical education, and then some, no one's bothered to do it yet," Minerva scoffed, only half sincere in her complaint. Half, but not entirely ' un' . "Just because I'm not dead yet, apparently. You'll probably get one before I do."

Though once she'd sufficiently ruffled her parabolic feathers at that small injustice, she decidedly reverted back to his previous comment with a look of scepticism.

"What exactly would you bribe the Sorting Hat with, boy? Conversation? A few new patches? Singing lessons? It's not like he's popping round to any shops."

Severus Tobias Snape's eyebrows had surely never receded more towards Mount Olympus than they had just now.

"Excuse me, 'Boy' , you say? Well, Minnie, we certainly are playing the usually loathed age-card hard and fast now, aren't we? Again, I must insist that Albus' portrait be flouted far more often. The bloody cad is rubbing off on you…." Severus remarked with a twitch of his left lips and a throaty chuckle.

Granted, she did have more time under her belt but still, he was no spring chicken either. He tutted at her and pursed his lips.

"But oh, I have a few ' smoking guns' up my own tightly buttoned sleeve, my dear… that you might not want such a loquacious headpiece to begin prattling about. And I know precisely where you keep them, even now . However, that's entirely for me to know, and for everyone's sake, once again, at the behest of a child , for you to never find out…." he proffered a small grin of closure as he extended his hands out in a gesture of competition.

"Right. Well, may I be removed from 'the rack' yet, Madam Inquisitor, or shall I receive a howler from you if I've failed to mention anything more that your pupils might feast upon in any tabloids of the future's making?"

Minerva gave him a tight-lipped smile of forced patience, permitting her eyes to roll liberally for a moment in response to so lacklustre a threat.

"Oh how very droll of you. As though a single member of the faculty could survive without their vices – but disregarding the highly amused possibility of seeing you parent a dangerously intelligent offspring, surely you can't expect me to believe you weren't directly interrogated? Aside from by me, of course," she self-disciplined lightly.

Severus stared at her in utter, bewildered awe for a moment, his hands flexing in agitation round the butts of his seat's arms as he regarded her yet again, with a perplexed look of what had, since forth, evolved into vexed appreciation.

How the fuck did she know?

"Are you quite sure that you aren't the bloody offspring of Morgana and Merlin? How the bloody hell do you know that there's anything more…. Specifically one thing, yet, that you have to be privy to…?"

"Because I'm no stranger to the ridiculousness of our world's dramatically undersold attempts at journalism, Severus. I had the misfortune of teaching Rita Skeeter. She couldn't even write her own essays. There's no way any of the urchins are going to go through the trials of fabricating a story when they could just pry one from you – and judging by what you've already given them, however indirectly, they'd have no reason to doubt your willingness," Minerva explained with almost wearisome discernment. Though there was a clear hint of a smile at the corner of her lips at the indirect compliment.

"Well, as a teacher of that loathsome creature, Minerva, you should rightly know that any and all questions they did pose to us were rather tawdry , to put it politely. I believe the most 'noble' ones of the collection for her, at least, had to do with the 'new' scarf she was wearing and where the public might be able to purchase it – it was mine, as you obviously saw – so no luck for them there…. Others included," he swallowed a moment, "asking if we brewed amortentia as foreplay and a truly tragic 'Slytherin' pun in the employ of figuring out how many times we'd shagged the night prior."

"How very unoriginal," Minerva sighed in a dramatic display of disapproval, though she frankly had very low expectations to start with.

"You do, of course, realise that once any of this hits the presses, the 'powers that be' will immediately try to correct the glaring mistake they made by giving you both unintentional free reign of your soon-to-be public image…?"

"It did cross my mind, yes….. Though to what detriment, I'm not entirely sure," Snape answered in turn, tucking his wide Cupid's bow into his mouth momentarily as he sanctioned her comment with heed.

" Fuck , Minnie, I really should not have allowed all of that to occur…. What the bloody hell was I thinking? And moreover, what was she thinking? Whilst she made some valid points, I'm left to wonder if they were ones really worth upholding so soon in this, obviously corrupt, arrangement of theirs…. Shite, I've behaved far worse than any of the bloody students I so keenly enjoyed punishing…"

He here broke for a moment, mired in ponderment before he looked up to hook her eyes with his and uttered a rather ambiguous all-encompassing, "What. Has. She. Done. To. Me?"

"You say that as if it's new," Minerva couldn't resist but prod the self-loathing, former Potions Master with clear and unrelenting jest, despite the efforts she'd just gone to in order to present to him 'the error of his ways' – waiting for him to register her amusement before continuing to delve into her clearly needed explanation.

"Don't strain yourself too hard, Severus. Honestly, because while I think you need to understand how they're going to take this – as a challenge – I also believe it was probably the wisest course. Because regardless of your motivations or the initial impact, the most necessitous part is that you openly, and without complaint, worked together. A far more vital thing to have taken away from this experience than any amount of spite or cooperation otherwise. They're going to like that least of all – and it's certainly your biggest advantage."

The conflicted man absorbed her words with steady regard, doing his utmost to see their value and direction. However, her last statement gave him serious pause. For, despite going over this aspect, and predicted outcome, the concept of invoking any wrath from the Wizengamot, now, seemed like a right irrational and imbecilic desire to do.

"But, Minerva, why… How is having done the thing that they are 'going to like the least of all', a challenge to their authority , possibly the correct route to have taken? I was on thin ice to begin with. Now they're going to punish her too, us both, for my inability to have remained the adult party. Again, what was I thinking?"

"Because someone has to be stubborn and foolish enough to defy them," Minerva simplified with a suddenly steely set to her jaw.

"The entire point of the Ministry of Magic is to manage our world in as diplomatic a way as possible outside of merely the Wizengamot's petty, unauthorised opinions and arguments amongst themselves. Granted not always well , but not the point… They may pre-date the ministry, but that also means their habits and biases do as well. If they succeed at having total dominion over you two, as a control group, then they're going to use it as a blueprint for the implementation of this law, over you and over anyone else who falls prey to it. If you make this easy for them, it's just going to prove that they can shift things in whatever direction they like. Enforcing not only marriage, but procreation - then controlling the raising and education of the children. Things could actually get much, much worse…"

Minerva's ever-sage words on any topic she chose to speak on, save perhaps her taste in Scotch, and Classic Rock – and don't get him started on her rather ostentatious affinity for Chaucer's own affinity for direct philosophical maxims and colloquial language – rang soundly in her best friend's ears. And, truth be told, he was having an even more challenging time disputing them than he did her last thesis. For what she had to say was, an entirely feasible potentiality for their 'master plans'. There really was no knowing just how dubious, sinister, conceivably lacking in rigid ethics the Wizengamot had planned for the resurrection of their world and the population in it. And as the somewhat fascist-like approach that they were already implementing with this marriage law, not to mention the threat of 'mildly enforced' procreation, was hardly something to blink at or take with flippant lightness, let alone sitting down.

Even so, and even now, in likely full agreement, the broader view of the Wizengamot's intentions for their world, and the people in it, was surely a topic that did not need the most immediate attention. For as troubling as the tonal insinuations were of their budding codex was thus far, it still, was effectively, in it's bare infancy.

At present, he had a far more cataclysmic, and discommodious , dilemma at his feet. That of her impending weekend with him. And the fact that he could hardly be near the witch without getting aggravatingly aroused. No, no, they had plenty of time to have discourse on the dissertation Minerva had just so wisely inducted into his foresight. And it certainly wouldn't serve him to begin such a one with a fucking erection popping up every other minute.

The weekend visit could wait. Yes. For even if the Ministry ordained to nominally punish them sooner rather than later, they could just take advantage of the time after they'd been put through the wringer to begin those conferences. After all, they'd established their allied front today, how much more did they really need to buttress it with for what would likely be some humiliating public appearance or some sort of 'get to know them further' interview.

"Fine, Minnie, you've illuminated some very fine, and very likely, facets we all have to be weary of in the horizon, however, I really don't believe I need, or can, concern myself with such far-away threats as those at this moment. I have immediate quandaries that need tending to first to even allow me to begin to contemplate the others," Severus finally lamented to voice, gnawing on his tongue with his left molars as he gazed out the passing foliage and country side with growing trepidation.

"And what, pray tell, would those be?" McGonagall pressed with a slightly impatient pursing of her lips, being no stranger to observing the straining gears of Severus Snape's mind whirring into an over-cautious pace. From habit or practised precaution, regardless, the results were still predominantly the same. Not that his new bride was any better when it came to a tendency to over-think and over-analyse her every action. All the more, point in fact.

"Because it seems to me that you should take advantage of their underestimation of your ability to function as a unit and bypass your reservations, not to mention their delayed reaction to even considering it a possibility, lest you be totally caught off guard when they try to mend their perceived weakness. You've got maybe a day before the full extent of what they're going to have to contend with dawns on them… surely you'll want to take advantage."

"Did you suddenly take up the 'art' of Divination, Minnie? For as it happens, I actually did invite her to come visit me at Spinner's End this weekend—for fuck knows what reason, in hindsight…." he grunted in self-resentment as his former proposition before meeting her eye, to continue. " However , I'm staunchly resolved now, despite that you've just encouraged me, unknowingly, to do the opposite, to forego the engagement for another time. Far too perilous a stake at play to risk fucking up by having her in person to 'talk shop'. We can easily owl or floo or some such thing if you're really insistent that we converge."

"Sounds like a brilliant way to be intercepted," Minerva protested flippantly, frowning slightly.

For someone who had a marked and even recently referenced distaste for the machinations of diplomacy, Minerva suddenly felt like she had very little choice but to use the unfortunate amount of knowledge she did have to her marked advantage.

"Look, Severus, I understand that this is going a bit more… chaotically than it was intended to, to put it mildly. But I think time is probably of the essence, in this case…."

"And just what are you insinuating by that, Minerva?" Severus queried with a sardonically suspicious angling of his head and pointing of his left brow, his hands clasping over his lap in a likely subconscious Freudian slip of self-preservation for the statement he was about to annex on to his former one.

"And 'chaotically' is putting it lightly, luv. I don't think you realise just how…. profound the side-effects of that damn ceremony have been. I'd rather spare you the graphic details of it, but let's just say I've been very much reminded of what it was like to be actively pubescent ."

"Well I don't know if this makes anything better or worse, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about the execution of the ceremony itself that should've leant itself to anything too… licentious. That being said…" the headmistress tapered off, notably frowning until she was sure he was acknowledging her and her words, versus his own inner turmoil.

"I think you'd be worse off trying to keep her at a distance only for them to swoop in and shove you together, unprepared and unaware."

He stared at her blankly before swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, splayed his hands out and to their respective sides in a garish show of ridiculed amusement.

"You're advising that I…work on building up a 'carnal tolerance' to Miss Granger's person, Minerva? And furthermore, how can you be so sure of that? The Wizengamot could easily have covertly tampered with the vows, or the rings, could they not? What does Kingsley know about anything? Did he not get the text and the rings for an outside party? How can you be so bloody confident? Because if that actually is the case – that there wasn't any fucking magic planted in any of those items – then what the fuck does that mean about what's going on with me, Minnie?"

His tone took on a malevolent quality, certainly a cadence he never rightly, or consciously would employ with her, even at their rare times of tense disagreement. However, when Severus Snape was frightened, truly scared of something, his ability to foster self-control and discipline, to 'control his emotions' as he so vehemently tried to instil in Potter, was acutely truant. To put it cruelly, he'd much rather face ten more Nagini strikes than be lugubriously retired to the fact that his biological being was, perchance , copiously sexually attracted to one Hermione Jean Granger. If that were the case, someone could fuck him sideways with a broom and send him on his merry way to Dante's Seventh Circle of Hell — for that fate would be surely be a lesser hardship than the other.

"That is pretty much what I'm saying, yes," Minerva surmised distinctly, doing her best not to appear too concerned by his show of panic. The last thing the man needed was an uneasy second opinion when his agitation was already growing, visibly, by the moment.

"And the rings are …a bit suspect, yes, as they came directly from the source, but the book I can testify to seeing Kingsley pull off the shelf in his own office, quite of his own accord. In fact, he deliberately chose to do so versus using any suggested rituals of theirs. However , despite the rings having come from the Wizengamot, they did pass an initial scan for covert magics…"

"Well that's all fine and dandy about the bloody book, but with regards to the rings, I don't see how that can possibly be the case, Minnie. Mine's been pulsating and burning at varying levels of intensity and degrees ever since she put the blasted thing on me…" he issued out with such haste that his baritone voice failed him by the end and he was left winded, worried, and worst of all, panicked .

"Well I don't have an answer for that – might be something you shouldn't advertise, though, until you both investigate that further on your own. If it reads as an accusation and there's nothing to go off of, it will surely breed more problems," the witch articulated with a sigh of trepidation, glancing out the window in thought as she decided what she could freely surmise.

"But genuinely, Severus – the more time you can carve out with her, the better. You need to be on the same page, especially now."

"Yes, thank you for the advice, Minnie, for after I get off the train I was planning on doing a little song and jig about it through the streets on my way home," he sneered with an eye roll though his face quickly softened and he sighed in disgust at his pension for snarky comebacks when they really weren't needed.

"Apologies, I know what you meant. I'm just bloody… scared , is all. But it's no excuse to take that out on you…"

"Believe me, if there's one thing I know to expect from you, it's snarky comebacks. At least I know you're listening," she forgave with a faint but dismissive eye roll, gesturing for him to continue on, unfettered by the burden.

"Thank you," he sighed, the weight of his own transgression having been alleviated by her all-too-kind gesture of comradeship, tilting his chin down in respect before clearing his throat to pursue the addressment of her last statement.

"Why do I get the distinct feeling that you're trying to tell me something, Minne…" he hummed lowly, his eyes tapering as he scrutinised her features punctiliously.

"Because I am trying to tell you something, Severus, I just don't exactly have the intimate details to get you anything besides a very vague and open-ended warning," Minerva relented with what almost amounted to a huff of impatience, that he couldn't have deciphered that just a tad bit sooner.

She had, in fact, been to visit Kingsley on her way to the station, and had unwittingly been witness to at least one exchange about the inevitable upheaval that would no doubt be coming their direction far sooner than either member of the couple were intended to suspect. What she could not claim knowledge of, was what form or function the impending disorder would come in the guise of. And she could only assume whatever had just occurred would far from dissuade them.

"I can tell you that they have every intention of springing something on you two out of the woodwork. But as for what, who bloody knows."

"Hades' balls," Severus hissed, his hands coming up to molest his eye sockets for a moment in the hopes of relieving the tension headache that had suddenly erupted at the divulged information. "So, you're saying – strongly counselling – that I keep our scheduled rendezvous to…strategise with greater intent and intensity?"

"Yes, dear. That's exactly what I'm saying," Minerva echoed once more, watching him confront that inevitability and at least begin to, with every hope, accept it. "You're going to need joint opposition, I'm sure. No matter what it is. They said in the determination that they were assigning you someone – no reason to be unprepared."

"Well, at least I'll have a solid two days until she arrives. We've planned for Saturday. She should probably show up to work tomorrow, it being Friday. She will be expected to show a noble face. Perhaps I can make her a late lunch or something, we'll confer, and then I'll send her in her merry way and we shall wait for the other shoe to fall… Shall that suffice, Minne, my dearest?" he mused his plannings aloud, his thumbs twirling somewhat anxiously in his lap as he ruminated on the various luncheon possibilities for a moment before finishing his train of thought and glancing at her with a small grin of barbed surrender.

"I doubt you should get too in your head about brevity, Severus. The soul advantage of that little homestead of yours is how very far and away it is from all this madness," Minerva couldn't resist but to point out, while he was in such a cooperative mood.

"Perhaps it would be in the girl's best interest to be out of London for at least a good 24 hours."

Dropping his head down as his eyes rimmed the horizon of his upper lids, Severus shot her a look of nettled incredulity at her very dismaying last tidbit of advice. Now she wanted to strip him of his one full day home to recuperate, resettle, and Merlin-willing sort out a way to metaphorically caponize himself before she was meant to arrive?

Ugh. Indeed.

"Bloody hell, woman! You want me to invite her up tomorrow? For a bloody sleepover? Are you trying to drive me to suicide…?" Severus exclaimed with a healthy dollop of melodrama as he glowered at her from across the seat before exhaling a curt snort of indignation which turned into a low grumbling of nonsense before he finally sputtered out reluctantly, "It's really not fair, you know. To use my saviour complex against me… Not to mention my guilt. I know what you'll say if I try to wager. You'll so stealthily remind me that I owe the girl my freedom – my life , therefore – and that the least I could as thanks is save her from the cesspool of media-devouring masses for a weekend of respite, calculated battle strategies, and perhaps access to my beloved, precious library, hm? "

"Well I clearly don't even have to, do I?" The headmistress returned with a trace of smugness, smiling despite his clear determination to attempt to guilt her right back.

"Just think about it as giving Weasley a long deserved heart attack, hm?"

"Well, Minerva, I must say I'm quite amazed that you so easily are turning your back on one of your little cubs. And one of the golden ones, at that. Let alone a man you, for a very short amount of time, were pleased to see her with. Thank Merlin, that phase only lasted about 'two days', but regardless, I rather think that after the various tabloids come out with the reporting of our various little stunts during our walk, if the intel should get back to him that she is coming for a weekend stay with me at Spinner's End – by some unfortunate blunder, of course – I rather think it would kill him. The heart attack will surely happen with the former proceedings," Snape paused a moment as his mouth slowly turned upwards into an iniquitous grin before adding with a dark chuckle, "I hope Nyx doesn't mind making a turn around trip."

"A threat to the ego and a threat to life are two entirely separate things, and the former can actually be quite beneficial in the long run – even necessary ," Minerva countered, with knowing intent, though still fired the man with a look of wholly Gryffindor pride.

"And it certainly warmed you up to the idea, no?"

Severus expelled a sigh of conciliated acceptance at his to-be fate for the next 72+ hours, flashing Minerva one final smirk of private amusement as their noble steed slowly pulled alongside the meagre platform of the Cokesworth stop, whose 'station' consisted only of an oft-pissed upon ticket til machine, one decrepit bench, and zero barriers of any kind from which to shield one from the elements.

"Oh, my darling, Minne," he began as he stood to exit, "Thanks to your most Slytherin-like endorsement of allowing me to take pleasure from Mr. Weasley's inevitable apocalyptic reaction to this development, I don't believe I'll be needing any fire this evening. Merci pour tes conseils, mon amie, " and with a wink and a curt nod of his head Severus Snape made his way back to Spinner's End.