Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing. If I could, I would, but this is no place to play 'coulda, shoulda, woulda'.

"So, how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Come on, 'Mione. You know very well what. Spill."

"Don't call me 'Mione. And it wasn't."

"What do you mean, wasn't? He wasn't good? Or you didn't?"

"Why are you so concerned about the sex life of your professor, Ginny? Why are you so concerned with my sex life for that matter?"

"Because you're my friend. Can't one friend be interested in another friend's life? I want you to be happy, after all. Now, was he good? Or did you do nothing at all?"

The conversation had started out innocently enough. 'Beautiful ceremony.' 'You looked wonderful yesterday.' And then, 'How was it?' Now Ginny wouldn't let the subject go. Hermione didn't want to answer. Really, who wanted to say to a noisy girl that the night that should have provided a myriad of juicy details (if Hermione had been inclined to share—which she was not) was actually a night in which the only detail that was even remotely interesting was the fact that Severus didn't snore, contrary to popular rumor. When Severus had finally decided that he should grace the bed with his presence, Hermione was on her side, her back to the dark haired man, her eyes clenched closed. Even if sex had been on his mind, he wasn't getting it. Not that night. The candle catastrophe had been enough to ensure that.

"We didn't."

"You didn't?"

"Should I owl your mother and tell her to have your hearing checked? We didn't. He was being a right foul git and we didn't."

"What did he do? Did he try to force you? I'll tell Harry. Dumbledore will get involved. He can't do that to you!"

Hermione snickered at the automatic use of that. Ginny had no idea what was specifically being talked about and here she was, already jumping to the conclusion that Severus had tried to rape her. And the fact that the younger girl thought that getting Harry involved would help the matter. He might have defeated Voldemort, but even Voldemort couldn't defeat Severus Snape.

"He didn't try to rape me, Ginny. Hold your thestrils, would you? I said he was being a git. That doesn't automatically mean he tried to force me to do anything. He started grading papers and I guess he lost track of time. It got late and then I went to bed."

"Nothing happened?"

"No."

"You're horribly disappointing, Hermione. I hope you know that."

"You'll have to get your kicks vicariously through someone else for now, Gin."

"Yeah, yeah. And you'll have to do the same if you want any kicks."

"Oh, get out of here, you."

The redhead rose from the library table, where she had accosted her friend in whispered questions, and twirled away toward the door. Twirled, indeed, Hermione mused, watching the long red hair float out around Ginny. The star female Quidditch player never simply walked. She floated, glided, danced and sprang. Never walked.

The library was offering no distraction from her troubled thoughts. Normally Hermione could go to the library and lose herself in the world of books and of studying. Today her brain was elsewhere, and try as she might she couldn't make herself think of anything other than Severus. Why had he been so enthralled with students' papers when he had her there at his disposal? Not to make herself sound like a piece of trash. But she would have. It was her duty after all. They had to have children, one at least. The law required it and there was no getting around the law.

Maybe he didn't want it to seem like it was force. Maybe he thought that obligation wasn't a good enough reason to sleep with your spouse. Maybe…there were too many maybes in her head. Closing the heavy tome she had been reading, Hermione stood and left for the dungeons. If she was going to obey the law, then she'd have to take it into her own hands to do so. She couldn't depend on him to make sure they weren't exiled for law breaking.

It took a few minutes—even after nearly seven years of inhabiting the castle, the stairways and passageways still confused her at times, often making it difficult to find the way from point A to point B—Hermione had made her way to Severus' classroom. He wasn't in class, she knew that much, but one would be starting one in half an hour's time. He'd be preparing. She had been given reprieve from lessons for the last few days of the week, giving her time to "adjust to married life" as Dumbledore put it.

She didn't bother to knock as she pushed open the blackened oak doors and slipped through a crack. Whatever he was working on, his interest was solely on the task at hand. His head didn't raise and his attention remained focused until she cleared her throat loudly.

"What do you want, Hermione? I've got class in a few minutes." His tone wasn't exactly cold, but warmth wouldn't have been equated either.

"I know you've got class soon. I just wanted to find out when you'd be done for the day. I'd like to have dinner in our rooms tonight."

"You can't eat in our rooms anytime you'd like. I don't see what that has to do with what time I get finished." For one of the smarter men she had met in her relatively short lifetime, Severus Snape could be rather thick headed at times. Had she not made her intentions that they eat together clear?

"It has to do with it in the fact that I would like for us to eat in our rooms together. What time can I expect you?"

"I always eat in the great hall after classes. What would the students—not to mention the other staff—think when I'm not there?"

"They'll think you're spending time with your wife, as you should. What time, Severus?"

"I should be through by five, but I really…"

"I'll see you then." She took a page out of Ginny's book and turned gracefully on her heel and glided out of the room, using the side exit she knew lead to their living area.

"Insufferable woman can't leave well enough alone." Severus muttered after her, unable to return his attention fully to the papers in front of him.

--

Hermione only had roughly an hour and a half to get together something that would ensure the night went as she wanted it to. How she really wanted the night to go was still a bit of a mystery, even to her, but the image of their bed floated in and out of her thoughts ever once in a while. As she entered their rooms, she called for Dobby.

"Yes, Missus, whats can Dobby do for the Missus Snape today?" the house elf asked in his broken English.

"I'm still Hermione, Dobby, you don't have to call me Mrs. Snape." She informed the bright eyed creature, forgetting momentarily that even before she had been married, she had been Miss to him.

"Ah, yes, Missus. Yous is right. Are yous and Professor wanting to eat in here?"

"Actually, we are, Dobby. Could you bring down a couple of trays?"

"Of course, Missus. Dobby will, Missus." And with that he was gone and Hermione was left to wonder what to do to get ready for an evening at home with her husband.

"These things really should not be this difficult. A night at home with my husband. My husband who's Severus Snape. My husband who doesn't seem to want anything to do with me. Getting him into bed should be simple enough" The sarcasm in her voice as she spoke the last few words, not to mention the words themselves, surprised her. At least her goal of the evening wasn't subconscious any longer.

Hermione had little to go on for getting the evening ready. Had she been trying to seduce any other man, things would have been simpler. She would have put on muggle clothing, lit a couple of candles, had the food waiting, and then hinted around, a kiss here, a giggle there, and it would be all done with. But this man was Severus Snape, and she had little idea what he would want. The muggle clothing couldn't have been a bad place to go off of, she mused, walking into the bedroom and beginning to go through her drawers.

She had a pair of dark denim jeans that had gotten more than a fair few comments from Ron and even Neville. If Neville noticed something about her wardrobe that was flattering, even Severus would have to like it. They were lower rising than most of her pants and a bit tighter than she typically preferred her clothes, but not so tight that she had trouble sitting or moving. She didn't have much by way of tops that weren't school issue or sweaters. She did have the camisoles that she typically wore under the sweaters and perhaps that could serve as a good enough option. At the very least, it was her most revealing one. And that was what she wanted, after all, wasn't it? Green was the obvious choice, knowing that Severus was rather partial to the hue. Her most Slytherin green camisole it was then. Shoes, she thought, weren't necessary and she also thought that she had read—more than likely in one of Ginny's magazines—that bare feet symbolized something or other that was definitely in line with her plans for the night. Her hair she left down, though she did manage to contain a small amount of the frizziness that would have otherwise made her hair stand out a meter side to side.

With all of that done, Hermione still had nearly forty-five minutes left to wait for Severus to finish teaching. Even when she thought about her appearance, it only took her thirty minutes to get ready. She had never inherited the 'slow preparation gene' that most women seemed to have. Why waste time considering and trying on outfits when one knows exactly what one will wear? The entire idea had always baffled Hermione.

Dobby had already delivered the trays of food. That's going to be cold, she thought, as she approached the table the stainless steel sat on. Reaching out to remove one lid and see what was for dinner, Hermione recoiled sharply, her fingertips already burning slightly just from the proximity to the metal. Maybe she was wrong. The food wouldn't get cold for hours. Now, what to do with herself?

Hermione's obvious choice to pass the time was reading. Books were nearly always the first thing that jumped to her mind when needing something to entertain herself with. Tonight was no different. She found the book she had begun the night before and settled down on the couch, her back to the arm rest, feet on the seat, her knees bent into a good position to rest the book on. Not long after cracking the spine, she was lost in the worlds of muggle folktales, unaware of what was going on around her.

--

Severus had delayed ending class as long as he could. There was no need to dread going to his quarters that night. Actually, he thought, there is one and it goes by the name of Hermione. He didn't dread spending time with the girl who had become his wife, though Merlin knew she could be a handful. He had had several interesting, not to mention entertaining conversations with her in the past and more could only be ensured for the future. He dreaded the one thing that most new husbands looked forward to more than anything else after getting married. Despite popular belief—and rumor—Severus Snape did have a heart and a conscience and the two put together was giving him a hard time about consummating the marriage.

Though the law insisted she was at least 18 due to her parent's absentmindedness, Hermione was still his young, seventeen year old student. Smart and knowledgeable beyond his wildest dreams for a student, but still naïve about too many things. His mind wouldn't let him stop questioning any part of the situation.

Finally, there came a point when he couldn't delay leaving the classroom any longer. His entire desk was organized, well beyond the point of neatness that it typically was at the end of most days. All papers had been graded and he had started to go over that day's batch of exams. It was nearing five thirty and if he was much later he could surely anticipate a reprimand from his bride—something he was already coming to understand about her was her temper. But he was also coming to understand something about himself, or at least the he in this situation, and that was the fact that he enjoyed her temper immensely. She was never more beautiful than when fired up and utterly pissed off at him. Surely that was a sign of masochism.

With a sigh of trepidation, Severus stood from his desk and strode the small distance from his seat to the side door. He could see Hermione on the couch as he entered, but she showed no sign of hearing him open the door. As he moved closer, though, taking in the smell of the dinner that waited, she spoke quietly.

"You said you would be done at five." Her quite tone, the menacing nature underneath, caught him off guard.

"Actually, I said I should be through by five. Should and will are two very different things. I'm thirty minutes late. It's not like I snuck off to the Great Hall for dinner and stayed for hours."

"You said five. For a man who expects his students to be on the dot arriving everywhere, if not a bit early, I would have expected you to be early for everything, too. It seems I've married a hypocrite."

"I am most certainly not a hypocrite, Miss Granger. You'll be wise to keep your accusations to yourself. I'm going to change."

Hermione's eyes hadn't moved off of the page of text she had been reading when Severus entered, but the flashed upward and to the darkly clad figure quickly at the name he gave her. "My name is Hermione. At the very least you could call me Mrs. Snape if you feel the need to use my last name. It is mine now, after all."

"So it is, Mrs. Snape. I'll be back shortly."

His haughty tone infuriated her like no other and she let out an exasperated sigh as he left the room. It would be a much longer night than she had thought.

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to get an update up. I started this near the time I posted Chapter nine, but it's taken me this long to finish it. It shouldn't be that long before there's a Chapter eleven, however, because I really could have kept this chapter going for much longer than I did. Think of this a 'part I'.