Something is happening to my review replies... I can't find record of my messages, but I could have sworn that I have replied like usual... err. No idea. So, if you have nothing back from me, forgive me! It's been swallowed up in the abyss of this website.

More Hermione in the next one, otherwise you would have been reading for yonks. Because I haven't said it in a while – thank you to the guests who leave feedback, you're all very kind. If you're stuck wanting things to do between now and the next chapter, might I suggest dawdling over to Deviant Art and having a squiz at all of the beautiful works with this fantastic pairing. My own Severus in this particular story, for example, can be pictured easily with the works by comfortablylaura. Forgive me for adjusting the below lyrics to suit my own devices.

Chapter 11

The door it opened just a crack,

But love was shrewd and bold.

Never has my tormentor come in such a cunning disguise…

I let love in.

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Severus ran his finger around the rim of the coffee cup as he stared at the sweet, light brown liquid within it. He raised it to his lips slowly, taking the first sip of his regular milky morning beverage. That was one more good thing about the ending of the war, he had long ago decided – he had enough sleep now to doctor his coffee the way he really liked it. Two sugars and enough milk to make it warm and not blistering hot. Only strong, bitter coffee would cut it during his spying years - he'd had an entire shelf full of variations of the stuff and even now he still reached for the bag of Lebanese coffee that would have him awake long enough to complete tedious marking.

There was a gentle buzz of conversation in the Great Hall. Had it always been this quiet? He thought not initially, as he'd absolutely detested mornings during the war, blaming his daily headaches on the annoying cretins that laughed and threw their food around. There was something to be said for barely needing his Occlumency these days; not only had he not had a migraine in months, but he found that he could stand meals in the Hall. Either the children had matured (unlikely) or his hearing had worsened – both options didn't bother him in the slightest. It didn't enter into his mind that perhaps he was distracted, thinking of the warm, inviting bed that he had dragged himself out of that morning…

He took a long sip of coffee and set the cup down carefully to reach for a slice of toast. The movement was slow, calculated, and Severus frowned at the strangeness that felt almost like longing the more his hands reached around the table to feed his body.

He'd woken up that way, for the very first time in his life. Lying on his side, his head on a pillow that felt nigh on heavenly, he'd reached his arm out blindly then jolted awake with a silent cry of alarm when his fingers encountered warm flesh.

Upon opening his eyes, he sucked in a quiet breath of surprise as he raised his head just enough to note the head of brown curly hair on the pillow next to his, facing away from him. Casting a furtive look down, he licked his dry lips when he realised that her night gown had ridden up, and his fingers had come into contact with the silken skin of her lower back. Her skin was golden, darker than his though it had not seen the sun for a long time.

He was so close to her that he could see the tiny hairs on her thighs, and as his gaze travelled upwards, he dipped his head to breathe in the warm, muted scent of his sleeping wife. He was curled around her body and judging by the way the back of her gown was crinkled, he'd slept with his forehead cradled between her shoulder blades.

It was normal to wake with a morning erection – pleading impotency for years and even taking potions on the odd occasion to prove it had never dulled the pleasant ache that he often opened his eyes to.

Falling asleep quickly the night before, he had absolutely failed to account for the possibility that he might have a further reason apart from just regular bodily functions to experience such a sensation. It was a stroke of luck that she hadn't woken to it, embarrassing him more than he already was.

Hermione's backside was pressed firmly against his groin, close enough that he could feel himself growing even harder beneath the trousers he'd pulled on before coming to her the night before. Despite her thinness, the curves of her buttocks were soft and delicate, and for a long moment he had simply stared with his mouth open, barely able to believe that he of all men had the luck to wake up to such a lovely sight.

In the Great Hall, Severus felt his penis twitch as he remembered how she'd mumbled incoherently when he'd tried to ease away from her, resulting in her wriggling her arse and smacking her lips together before falling back to sleep.

He'd felt as overwhelmed as a newly sexually awakened teenager – all of those months in their quarters in '97 where he had ignored her smooth, nubile body were catching up on him now that he had her in her bed, pressing against him.

Severus couldn't help himself. It was an exquisite form of torture.

His fingers twitched as he spread butter on his toast, recalling how easy it'd been to let his hand rest on her hip. His heart had been pounding, the blood roaring in his ears and he'd nearly moaned to feel her skin under his palm – so warm and tender. He trailed his fingers along the curve of her hip, and she pushed back once more, still lost to sleep. His breath hitched and the moan escaped in a breathless sound of desire. Did she know it was him with her? Did she realise it was her husband's lean body cupped around hers? Or was she simply lost to the haze of dreams, responding at a basic, sensual level rather than from anything that could be construed as her own true wishes?

It was one of the greatest temptations; he could ease the band of her knickers down, do away with the little blue scrap of lace – lace! - and spread his hands to feel the entirety of her derriere. And he could – oh, yes he most definitely could – let his fingers search ever lower until they encountered hot and slick folds. He could wake her like this, with gentle teasing touches and a kiss to her shoulder, swirling his index finger through the moisture before spreading it to that tiny little nub that would make her open her eyes with a pleased gasp of surprise.

But he did not.

Even as he ached to bury himself inside of his wife for the very first time, he looked down at her sleeping face – her young, innocent face.

So very young…

Along with the seed of doubt planted in his mind, a quietly cast Tempus revealed that he was almost late, and he left the bed.

After his morning ablutions, he looked in on Hermione again, noting with satisfaction that she was still deeply asleep. Casting a silencing charm on his dragon hide boots, he jogged down the stairs and disappeared out into the early morning light, his black cloak and robes whipping around his body in the wind.

…

"Tink!"

The elf appeared beside Severus' desk in a flash, staring solemnly at the man he considered his master. It wasn't practice for anyone other than the Head of the school to have their own personal elf, but Tink had transferred his allegiances as quickly as Severus had taken up his old post in the dungeons.

"Tink is happy to serve, Master!" His large ears flapped as he nodded enthusiastically, then produced a comb and quickly ran it over the few strands of hair on his head. The emerald green pillow case he wore was starched to perfection. Severus had to stifle a genuine laugh, well aware that the elf had put on some airs ever since he'd been assigned to the Headmaster when Severus had first been forced to take up the office. A distant relation to Winky, Tink had cowered in front of the black haired wizard initially, but now exuded an amusing level of self confidence.

Perfect for the job, Severus mused with a short grin.

"Tink," he began seriously, conveying the importance of the task, "I wish for you to attend Madam Snape at our new residence. Just for a few days until-"

The elf beamed and issued forth a sound that wouldn't have gone astray on a giddy first year. "Tink will go immediately!"

Good grief. Severus had forgotten how enthusiastic his old elf could be. He hoped that Hermione was up for a few days of Tink singing at full volume while he went about his tasks. It had taken the former Headmaster days to develop a spell that would even work on the creature, though truthfully he rather thought that his wife would enjoy such exuberant company.

With the idea that it was probably best to give clear instructions in case Hermione was overwhelmed, Severus said, "There are rooms that need to be cleaned upon your arrival. You will know which ones – it is an old house, so ensure that the integrity of the building is respected. That means no garish colours on the walls or floors, hmm?"

Tink bobbed his head with a squeal. Biting down on a chortle, Severus continued, "Ensure that Madam Snape's bedroom is completely to her liking. She may also wish to work on the garden herself, so clear away any dangerous plants or thorns before she does so, would you? And don't tell her I told you to do that," he added with a wince. It wouldn't do to mollycoddle her any more than he already had. He was already more caregiver than husband, not that he expected that to change at all, but it wouldn't hurt to ease off on his efforts.

"Yes, yes! Tink is using discretion, Master!"

"Very good. And if you can do something about the size of the bathroom downstairs, do so. It is currently the size of a broom cupboard."

Tink sighed with sympathy and nodded again.

"The bedrooms upstairs are furnished well enough, but use your own judgement and take over whatever furniture from my old quarters you think will suit the rest of the house best. But ensure to ask Madam Snape as to her preferences for placement of said furniture, yes?"

"Of course, Master! Does Master have any preferences?"

"Christ – no. Not at all." He really didn't – he was sick of making decisions, and he was curious to see if Hermione would make the cottage into a real home, or whether it would only look like a temporary abode for them both.

Pushing his reading glasses further up his nose, Severus averted his eyes as he made the last request, unsure how Hermione would receive it when she found out. "And… if at all possible, increase the ceiling height in the second bedroom."

For all Severus knew, last night was a one off. They had never engaged in intimate acts, not really, and he was too uncertain of his own feelings on the matter to ask her directly. He saw her as a friend, that he knew, and so he planned to continue to stay in the bedroom he had assigned himself. Again, he remembered his wife that morning, so young compared to his nearly forty two years. Despite the longevity of magical folk, Severus had found a few grey hairs near his temples over the last few months and it only served to increase the expectation that those divorce papers he ordered upon her recovery would be needed sooner rather than later.

How could a woman forced to marry him ever grow any real affection for him? And even if she did, how could he ever believe that such feelings were true, after the way they were brought together? He had never mistreated her; in fact, he had always made more of an effort with her than anyone, aware that it would make their marriage more bothersome for both if he gave in to his occasional wishes to sneer or make snide remarks to her. He had never been charming after all. But he couldn't ignore his own history; while not being technically forced, his mother had not married for love nor for companionship. She was pregnant, young and unsure, Severus' father pushed for it, and so it was done. His mother's life of misery ensured that Severus could never really adjust to the idea of forming some kind of romantic attachment to his wife and so he had shied away from anything of the sort.

For all of this, Hermione had been, for the most part, kind. More than kind, even. There had been a few nights after she had begun to sit with him not long after their marriage that he'd even researched Stockholm Syndrome – but even he wasn't that delusional, and he had never been her kidnapper.

Still, his doubts and suspicions remained.

He could not, in good conscience, ask her for anything more than the friendliness that she had always treated him with.

And he dared not. He was not a man to give in to rashness, nor to make quick decisions, but if this morning was any indication, he was losing his composure with his wife. Her proximity was tantalising and tempting, and if he ever did truly share her bed, he felt as if he would lose his heart entirely. Hermione was his wife. It would be such a simple thing to let himself fall for her, given that she was technically already bound to him. She was beautiful, with her wild hair and pink lips. Not a classic beauty; her teeth were still slightly pronounced and sharp looking and her nose was the opposite of his – upturned instead of hooked, but she had such an expressive face that he often couldn't look away.

Was it her beauty that he was attracted to, or her kind, considerate nature? Or both? And would he be reacting this way if there had been any other woman waking in the same bed with him this morning? Soft curves were soft curves – perhaps he was merely reacting because of all of those celibate years after Riddle's return.

He was utterly conflicted.

The entire situation was too difficult. He almost wished that she would divorce him, if only to make their relationship clear.

Realising that Tink was still standing there as he had not properly dismissed him, Severus began to do so and then cut himself off with a hesitant, "And… And she likes lilacs… Perhaps you might take some sprigs over from my garden next to the private laboratory."

…

"So her parents are visiting today?"

"I'm surprised they didn't pop over yesterday. Lucky you, eh?"

"Enough, both of you. They can come whenever they want."

"Yes, well, the mother's a handful so have fun with that, sir. And the Weasleys? Today as well?"

"She might be gone before the end of the day… Wishful thinking, I know. And yes… All of them."

"Merlin, I hope they don't come up here. I've got far too much to do – it's been relatively quiet without a Weasley breaking a bone or getting possessed or what have you. Good lord."

"Tell us what you really feel, Poppy, why don't you," Lavender commented between girlish snorts of laughter. The Hogwarts nurse grumbled under her breath and filled her mouth with another pastry.

"Still," Lavender said, "at least Molly will bring over good food. That's the only thing I miss about being a Weasley."

"You never did mention why you two broke it off," Poppy commented curiously, and Severus' interest was piqued even further when the Healer growled a warning.

"It's too soon to go into it," Lavender grumbled. "I'm still angry about it and I'm here on a work visit so I have to maintain some level of decorum. No breaking plates and such."

On the other side of the table, Severus let his curtain of hair fall forward to hide his burning cheeks. For once they hadn't flushed with anger or debilitating shyness, but with a great deal of amusement. If one had told him five years ago that he would be enjoying a lunch in Poppy's office with the matron herself as well as Lavender ruddy Brown, he might have stupefied himself on the spot. As it was… He popped a chocolate biscuit into his mouth and shrugged.

"I thought this was supposed to be a health visit?" he asked the young Healer, who wore business like robes in a light dove grey.

Lavender echoed his gesture, rolling her shoulders as she huffed. "The day you let me undertake a formal examination is the day that pigs fly. This is as good as I'll ever get. Tell me I'm wrong."

Severus' snarl turned into a bemused frown when both women tittered and laughed. "What?" he complained.

"Don't bother, Severus," Poppy chided, wagging her finger in a way that, on the surface, irritated him but underneath all of the buttons, he'd never really minded that she had always taken more of an interest in his health and manners than was proper. The nurse had been the one fixture in his life that exuded almost parental-like care for his welfare, and though he continuously resisted it, such protestations were at face value most days.

"How is it going, anyway?" Lavender said all too innocently, busying her hands with pouring a cup of tea that looked as if it were an entire cup of milk and a teabag. "How did the cottage hold up for your first night? That storm was certainly something, wasn't it Poppy?"

"Mmhmm," Poppy agreed, nodding as if her hum was something significant.

Severus met Lavender's side-on look with an exasperated sigh, preferring to stay silent.

It did not faze the Healer. "Hermione always disliked storms. Her episodes were often the worst then, so there was no way for me to dig deeper and work out why. How did she fare last night?"

Severus took his time, gathering his thoughts before they could all rush to his head. He poured himself another coffee, pointedly ignoring Poppy's knowing little titter. Sometimes the witch seemed more of a seer than Sybill.

In an effort to be at least somewhat gentlemanly, he softened his voice considerably before saying, "None of your business," then promptly regretted it when both women broke out into smug smirks that told him they were not fooled at all.

"Oh bugger off," he protested, throwing his lean body out of the chair and stalking out of the room, unaware of the two witches that immediately bent their heads together and whispered furiously between giggles.

…

"You're planning on making this walk every day, then?" Lavender asked as she strode briskly alongside him, looking around her at the scenery as she did so. "It's rather lovely. The fresh air should help."

"Help with what?" Severus bit out. He was not bothered by the Healer's presence as she needed to visit Hermione anyway, but her perceptiveness was unnerving.

"You've lived alone for a long time, sir," she explained easily. "This arrangement will take some getting used to. And I'm here you know, if you want to t-"

"I don't."

"Thought you'd say that. Doesn't change the fact that I am here for you."

"So you said."

"Gods, you don't make it easy, do you?"

"Now Ms. Brown," he drawled sarcastically, itching to just be home in the privacy of his room already, "what makes you say that?"

Instead of rising to his ire, Lavender came to a stop at the end of the lane and eyed the cottage apprehensively. Light was spilling out into the street and they could already hear the boisterous voices coming from inside. Severus felt a pang of sympathy for the young witch, and he suspected that the visit she was about to make would be made that more difficult by the presence of her outspoken ex-husband. He'd never even once referred to her personal situation other than cocking an eyebrow and congratulating her when she'd informed him of the divorce, and even though she wasn't of his own House and thus had never been under his proper instruction apart from regular lessons, he felt something akin to pride with how she set her shoulders and walked past him to begin closing the distance to the cottage.

When they reached the small fence that bordered both his wards and the front courtyard, the laughter reached a crescendo. He could easily discern Hermione and the idiot Weasley boy as being among them, as well as her mother Helen which rankled him more than he cared to admit.

Once an outsider, always an outsider, he thought grimly.

"Time to go in?" Lavender asked quietly from beside him, staring straight at the door. He wouldn't ever admit it even under duress, but he took strength from the stern set of her mouth and the way her held was held high.

The only support he could even manage to offer the Healer was a slight bow of his head and an elbow as he said gruffly, "I'll lead you in."

"Thanks," she muttered, a tinge of pink on her cheeks. "Sorry. This is bloody well difficult. It is for you, too, if I may dare to presume such a thing…"

"It may be," he allowed, then gave her a wry smirk. "But you're forgetting one thing."

"Oh?"

He lowered his voice and scowled at the door then looked back at his conspirator. "I'm the bastard bat of the dungeons, Ms. Brown. I can clear a room in a heartbeat."

Lavender snorted then clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a hoot, and his mouth twitched with a humourous grin. "No time like the present," he pronounced, and opened the door with a wave of his wand.

…

Oh yes, he still had it.

The entire sitting room was filled to the brim with Weasleys and Grangers, and a flash of black hair in the kitchen signified Potter was there as well. Everyone went absolutely quiet when he entered the cottage, and the atmosphere was awkward enough to make him want to turn around on the spot and Disapparate the hell out of there.

The witch on his arm took it upon herself to speak first.

Lavender's face split into a wide grin and in an instant, she was the bubbly young thing from Hogwarts again. "Hello, everyone!" she called, waving madly around the room. He had to look away to hide a chuckle as all eyes looked to the blonde haired woman and thankfully, away from him; no doubt her aim in the first place.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen, and he glowered for good effect. Moving as one, they all stood and began mumbling excuses about it being time to head home, though Molly bustled over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Lavender received an awkward embrace from the matriarch, and he spied Ron in a back corner looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Good. Uppity little shit.

Surprisingly, Richard wormed his way through the room and stuck out a hand to Severus, who grasped it with a hesitant nod of his head. The brown haired man cleared his throat.

"Evening, Severus," he said, his tone making it clear that he was committed to at least greeting his daughter's husband. It left the wizard flummoxed, and it took him a good few seconds to blink away his surprise.

"Hello, Richard," said Severus, then exhaled as his father in law harrumphed in a satisfied sort of way then stepped aside. He found himself wishing for the quiet, stout man's presence again, though, as his hand was quickly descended upon by some of the lesser nutters that made up the Weasley clan.

"Arthur," he greeted, followed by, "Percy – good to see you," and a, "I'm not taking your hand, George. Drop what you're concealing. Drop it. There's a good boy. Now offer your other hand. Good evening to you."

Charlie and Bill approached, both wearing twin looks of blankness, and he shook their hands quickly before they, too, moved to the door. Ron opted to storm past with a grumbled oath and he clenched his jaw to stop a scathing reprimand when the youngest boy ignored the woman who was once his spouse. It didn't stop him from grabbing the idiot as his foot stepped on the threshold, though, and Severus took pleasure in growling, "My house, my rules, Weasley. Be polite."

"Sod off," the boy whined, shrugging off his grip and striding off into the night.

"Sorry," Arthur mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "He'll come 'round."

"You say that as if I wish for him to do such a thing," Severus drawled. "Take the boy to see someone, Arthur. I am beginning to tire of his antics."

To an old pureblood family, the insinuation that one needed to see what wizards called a Mind Healer and Muggles called Psychologists was a blatant insult. For all of his good politics, Arthur blushed a deep shade of red and quickly left the room to the music of Lavender's soft laughter.

"You were right," she said softly, surveying the room. "You really can clear out a room. And what a room it is!"

And for the first time, Severus got a good look at his new sitting room.

It was… "Brilliant," he breathed, forgetting himself as he looked around. She'd truly outdone herself – it was bloody wonderful. Bookcases lining the walls that Tink must've brought over from his old chambers, and he recognised his reading chair in front of the fire that was crackling. There was another chair opposite it, angled in a way that the occupier would be companionably facing him, and the sight made his heart pound in his chest. With a dry mouth, he took note of the familiar navy couch that had once been in his old private sitting room, and the rug on the floor was his, but Tink had worked his magic in a way that made the Persian now have hints of blue and gold rather than the emerald it had been. She'd managed to create a room completely devoid of reminders of either of their Houses, and in turn he realised that it was somewhere Hermione must've been hoping that both of them would spend time in.

The walls had been painted with a gentle cream colour, and presumably the white peeling layer underneath had been taken off. There was no room for an artwork or two, but Severus was tempted to walk into the kitchen to see whether his wife had scrounged around and found a painting to cover the bare walls there. On the coffee table in front of the couch, a large vase was stuffed with lilacs from his private garden at Hogwarts.

Helen and Richard sat on the couch, his mother in law's face fixed into a careful expression of politeness. He greeted her first then waved Lavender into a chair.

"She should be down soon," Helen said quietly. "She was just going to the loo."

Severus scratched at the end of day stubble on his cheek, opting not to comment. Instead he left Lavender as she began to make small talk, and followed the dull bangs coming from the kitchen. Tink was nowhere to be seen and as he rounded the corner, he slowed to a stop when he saw two denim covered legs stretched out on the floor with a head nowhere in sight.

"Potter," he said flatly, recognising the scuffed trainers. "What exactly are you doing?"

There was a muffled groan of discomfort followed by a, "Shit!" when the boy must've hit his head upon easing himself out of the bottom cupboard. Severus coughed to hide a bark of laughter. The older wizard walked into the kitchen fully and stepped over Harry's legs, crouching down beside the boy to see him with a hammer in his hand. He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head.

Potter grinned and held up the tool. "Tink said that the cupboards are too delicate even for elf magic. It was this way or the highway. Or, erm, Hermione's way or the highway. She didn't want to change anything about the overall feel of the place, so we're just sorting all the hinges and then Tink will… can't remember what he said, but reinforce it somehow. And change the colours."

It was entirely ridiculous, but Severus had to fight down the urge to feel put out at his wife asking Potter to do such a thing. As a wizard, he was well aware of his power and skills but this was something lower than that, some strange form of male pride that was damaged by the sight of the boy in his own kitchen, fixing things the Muggle way. Harry must've noticed the flash of disappointment on his face, for he quickly sat up properly and shoved the hammer into Severus' hand.

"I learned from being ordered around at the Dursley's, but I ruined things more than I fixed them. Intentionally, but anyway. You're probably better at this than I am. There's only a few to go."

"Right," Severus replied blandly. "A job for the weekend, then." Searching for something to say to fill the silence given that Potter still hadn't bloody left, he managed to offer, "Where is Miss Weasley this evening? I did not notice her among the cavalry."

Harry smirked and pushed himself up onto his knees with a huff. "She trains on Friday nights. She was hoping to come around on Sunday, though, if erm, that's all right with you…"

For once Severus was glad of marking to keep him busy and he nodded with a roll of his eyes; he'd always been courteous to his wife – he wasn't about to become a saint to her friends if none of them were going to confess about-

"I told Hermione," Harry said suddenly, running a hand through his messy black hair. Severus frowned, waiting for an explanation. "About… About not visiting as much as you… as much as others."

"Did you now?"

"I… ah… yes."

Unaware that he had advanced on him, Severus found that he was towering over the boy with a scowl on his face. "And how did she receive the news? She's barely a week out of hospital, Potter! Couldn't you have waited?"

"I didn't want to lie to her!" Harry defended himself with red, mortified cheeks. "She was all right with it… a bit sad… but I wish she'd been angry. I deserve it."

Ruddy self sacrificing Gryffindors…

"I'll be angry enough for the both of us, how's that?" Severus drawled and tossed his head, exasperated. "And the Weasley boy?" It was easy to surmise that Hermione would be extremely upset this evening if the idiot had pulled his finger out of his arse long enough to be up-front with his supposed best friend. It might have been worthwhile to stop and examine the protective emotions that were coming to a head within him, but Severus was not in the mood for soul searching.

"Erm, no," Harry admitted. "Not a word."

Surprising the younger boy, Severus stepped back and nodded. "Probably for the best."

"I think so," Harry said carefully. "She's worked out something's off with him. She might ask you about it…"

Severus headed the remark off with a flip of his hand. "It's not my place. You lot didn't visit, ergo you can sort it out."

"Yeah… well… right. Yeah. You're right. So, er… how was your first night?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at the impertinent boy. Forgoing an insulting remark, he left the kitchen instead, giving himself just enough time to be situated before Hermione came down the stairs. It was going to be a long night.