Severus banged and clanked about his kitchen as Hermione settled herself before the fire. She cast a spell, lighting it and pushed some fresh kindling in to deepen the heat. Golden light filled the small room and she sank back into her chair.

Pushing back the cuff of her jumper, she stared at her wrist. The faint lines of gold fell into the creases. They would fade when their binding was consummated.

Severus thrust a mug at her. "Why didn't you say?"

"When, when would it have come up in conversation, Severus? This tea is lovely, got any chocolate digestives, and by the way, I'm a virgin? Or, I don't know, what's in this sauce and yes, my lady parts are...pristine?"

He snorted and sank into his chair. She was thankful her weak stab at humour had broken his ire. "Lady parts?"

"Witch Weekly."

"Of course." He let out a long breath. "I would never—"

"I'm happy it's you!"

Severus simply stared at her after that blurt of words.

"I am. This way, gods, it means something. Your freedom. Mine. And you're my friend, Severus. Not a glory hunter. Not using me to spin a lie—"

He opened his mouth.

"No. You saved me from the Ministry. Gods, you have enough money to topple this shitty bunch of idiots and set Minerva as Minister."

"Yes, very probably."

"Good, let's do that."

She sipped her tea and let out a happy sigh. "In this marriage, you officially make the tea. Every time. I am not allowed. So mote it be."

Severus shook his head, but the twist of a smile faded from his lips. "Hermione…"

"Ah, no." She held up her hand. "I'm not a romantic, Severus." He was half way to scoffing, but she cut him off. "I'm not. Truly. More than anything, I want someone I can trust. Rely on. Someone who makes perfect tea." She toasted him. "And will become probably the wealthiest wizard in the British Isles. That last one doesn't hurt a bit."

"Gold-digger."

She smirked at him. "You've been reading my press."

"We did rush into this—"

"Oh..." It wasn't about her. He was having regrets. A leaden weight dropped into her belly and the thought that he didn't want her tightened her chest. Her eyes burned. She swallowed in a tight and the lingering taste of her perfectly brewed tea grew sour. "Oh. I see."

"What? No." He reached out a hand and took one of hers, tangling their fingers. "Gods girl, no. You deserve a man who's not been wallowing in dark magic. Stained and tainted with it. Not for your first time. We can wait to complete the binding and you can—"

Hermione gaped at him. Simply gaped. "Why? Why would I run off to someone else? The very few who could be considered —not that I am, not for an instant— stood around and agreed with Ron. Smiled. Smiled at it. Agreed that I should be his...his breeding bitch."

A sharp line of red slashed across Severus' sharp cheeks and Hermione closed her eyes.

"That is not you. That is not us."

"Merlin, Hermione, it is. I...we," he winced, "have to present our baby to the Bank a year from now to meet the condition of this insane clause. With the fertility potion." He drew in a long breath. "That…I'm taking away your choice there too. You will conceive from your, our first time together."

She was aware of that fact. Very aware. But, gods. Severus or Ron? There was no competition. Not for half a heartbeat. "I would rather have...twenty seven babies with you than stand within three feet of most wizards."

He gaped at her. "Twenty seven?"

"How big is that estate in Shropshire?"

Soft laughter escaped him. "You are quite addled, witch."

"That's called amusing eccentricity when you're rich, you know?" She squeezed his fingers and gave him a sure smile. "Take me to bed, Severus. I...am curious," her face heated, "but could never trust anyone enough to let down my walls. You, you I trust. Completely."

"You can have your own private room on the Janus Thickey ward."

"How sweet and generous are you?"

Her belly twisted when he didn't stand, didn't pull her to feet. She'd made the offer. And he...he was it ignoring it. Was his suggestion to find someone else really a way to avoid her inexperience? Did he not want that in his bed?

"Sweet girl." The endearment, rumbled in his low, rich voice wrapped around her heart. "I want to make your first time pleasurable. And, to be frank, it has been a number of years since I last had a bed partner."

Something like relief chased through her. Was that all? "So?" His blink dragged a smile from her. "We have…forever. This is a marathon, Severus, not a sprint. And first times are notoriously awful. I'm...practical and not one for unrealistic expectations."

"You say that…"

Hermione stood and stepped between his parted knees. Her heart thudded and shaking fingers threaded through the clean and fire-lit strands of his black hair, teasing them behind his ear. The golden light limned the paleness of his sharp jaw and caught in the depths of his so-black eyes. He was striking. Mesmerising.

Severus' chest rose and fell, his long hands curved around his knees and quite, quite bloodless. Allowing her to touch him, to explore. That sweet line of pink stained his high cheeks.

Her gaze flicked to his softly parted mouth, and her belly squeezed. His twitch of a smile, tender, dark and wicked, caught her breath. And dear god, had his lips always appeared so…kissable?

She dipped her mouth to his, a brush, a tease, the taste of air and skin and perfectly brewed tea. It broke a smile from her. Her pulse drummed and the need, the fresh ache of wanting this wizard, his man was a burn through her flesh.

Merlin, this, he was right.

"It's time." Hermione drew back and held his black-fired gaze. "Take me to bed, my husband."