Look Chapter 11, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I'm looking for a creative way to deny that I own the Harry Potter world. Any suggestions?

A/n: Here it is, the long awaited Chapter 11. I know, I know. It's later than what I expected. I seem to get awful cases of writer's block the second I post a chapter. Forgive me?

"Mrs. Snape, the least you could do is join me. You were, after all, the one who insisted we eat in tonight."

"And the least you could do, Severus, is call me by my first name. It wouldn't kill you."

Wouldn't kill him, Severus repeated in his mind, while staring down at the matching plates of food that sat in front of him. Ah, but it might. Familiarity begets attachment, attachment begets weakness, and weakness begets death. It really wasn't all that hard a line of thinking to follow, he thought with an almost nauseous look on his face. Familiarity equals death, at least in the mind of the brooding potions master.

Severus had stalked out of the room after their name argument, marching angrily into the bedroom and changing out of his school robes. As much as he liked looking the part of the domineering professor while he was in the classroom and in the school halls, in his own quarters, he preferred a much more relaxed look. Black slacks and a comfortable sweater—not necessarily in the darkest of hues—were his preferred style of dress. He returned to the living area in an equally angry march, heading straight for the silver covered plates of food. He removed the covers quickly when he felt the heat still rising off the metal and sat down in front of one, looking over at the couch where Hermione still sat, her interest devoted to the book in her hands. He had sat there for five minutes before speaking and when their short exchange was over, it appeared that he'd either be sitting there for much longer than five minutes or he'd be eating by himself.

"I really expected much more mature behavior from you, Mrs. Snape. You were never one to sink to such childish games of ignoring someone. I've spent the last seven years watching you interact with the people around you and not once did I see you ignore someone you were angry with. You always had it out, then and there and got it over with. I'm quite surprised."

Hermione glanced up from the book quickly, shooting daggers in her husband's direction. Before she had a chance to respond he spoke again.

"Ah! She looks up. And here I thought it was impossible. Mrs. Snape, I know that you're mad at me, but it will do you no good not to eat. How will look if you continue this self-imposed fast and emerge from these quarters looking starved?"

Closing the book, Hermione swung her feet off of the couch and stood. She didn't want to eat now, simply because he insisted that she did, but her stomach had taken to growling half an hour before and she really couldn't put up with the hunger pains any longer. As she sat down at the table, she picked up her fork, refusing to look up at Severus again.

Severus was by no means entirely thrilled with the progress that had been made, but she was eating and that was better than nothing at all he supposed. Where the sudden need for her to maintain healthy eating habits came from was beyond him, but he found himself relieved enough that she wasn't starving on his account that he didn't try to continue their argument.

Severus waited until he was sure Hermione was finished eating before he spoke again. The normally well versed professor was at a loss for words when it came to trying to patch things over with his new bride. Death be damned, he muttered under his breath, sure the only way to get her to even look at him was saying the one word he had only moments before equated with death.

"Hermione," he began, managing a small smile when she looked up at him at the sound of her name, "I'm sorry."

There. That had to do it. He wasn't expecting those to be the words to come out of his mouth, and Hermione had clearly been expecting anything else. Her mouth opened just a bit, while her eyes went wide in momentary shock. Severus Snape and "I'm sorry" went together about as well as oil and water.

"You're sorry for what?" She asked, crumpling the napkin that had been in her lap and tossing it lightly onto the table. Her stunned silence only last for a second. He wasn't going to get off that easy.

"I'm sorry that I was later than I said I was going to be and I'm sorry that I keep calling you Miss Granger." His voice took on the tone of a little boy forced to apologize when he only barely thought he ought to have to apologize.

"You could try sounding like you mean it." She told him, keeping her voice level. There really was no need to shout or scream. She had learnt long ago that a quite tone could go further than an obviously angry one.

Severus sighed in exasperation, not sure what more he could do to prove that he was sorry. Because, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he really was sorry. He had consciously been late to dinner and try as he might it was still difficult to refer to his wife as anything other than Miss Granger, but he was very sorry that both happened.

"Mi—Hermione, I am sorry. And if you don't believe me, then you're going to go through our marriage always believing that I enjoyed upsetting you on only our second night being married. I may have the reputation of an evil, heartless bastard, but despite the rumors, I still have my conscious intact."

"Fine. Are you finished now? I'd like to finish the chapter I was reading before I go to sleep." Her tone was still level, still cold. Not at all the easy going voice she used normally. The tone infuriated him more than anything.

"No, I'm not finished now. Damn it woman, are you always this insufferable?" He asked, standing from his seat at the table, his chair sent teetering on the back legs, threatening to fall from the speed at which he had risen. "I apologized. Me! I've never apologized more than twice in my life and you've already got me apologizing on the second night we're married. I try to make this work, try to be the bigger person, smooth things over, not cause waves. And what do I get? A wife who's only interest before sleep is reading! I don't care what that damned law said. You really were too young for marriage." With his final words, Severus walked quickly to the bedroom, knowing if he stayed in the room with her for any longer he'd yell again. Probably worse the second time around.

It took Hermione only a moment to get over what felt like a verbal slap in the face. First she was immature in ignoring him, now she was too young to have gotten married. Understanding settled in Hermione's mind. She understood quite well that Severus was still hung up on her age. Had she been a decade older, he would have been all over her, making this marriage as legal as it could have been. Or in the very least he would have been on time to dinner, might have noticed that she wasn't wearing her school uniform, he might have acted a bit more like the husband he was. She had the misfortune of marrying a man who couldn't get past something as small as a number. Most people would have suspected that she would be the one to agonize over the one glaring difference between them. And while she had, for the first day or two, worried, she quickly realized there were far worse things that could have made she and her husband different. Age simply wasn't that important.

As realization dawned on her, Hermione stood and followed the dark-haired man into the bedroom. She found Severus laying on his back, stretched out across the queen-sized bed, an arm thrown above his head, one hand resting on his stomach. He was staring at the ceiling and didn't appear to notice that she had entered the room. Hermione's natural instincts were to point out his problem and insist he get over it, to try to force him to see things her way. It was somewhat of a shame that her "learning to live with Severus" instincts hadn't kicked in yet.

"You really need to get over yourself, you know that?" She asked as she moved toward the bed. "Do you really think you're the only one that worries about our age difference? It's not even the fact that there is an age difference; it's the fact that there is an experience difference. I realize fully that you are older than me, nearly twenty years older. Do you not think that I think about how different we are simply because you've lived longer? But you don't hear me calling you senile and too old to marry, do you? Calling me immature and stating the obvious fact that I'm young isn't going to do either one of us any good. Like it or not you're stuck with me."

With each word, Hermione's anger built. She began pacing somewhere in the middle, jabbing her index finger at him every time her pacing turning her around in his direction. She was letting her temper get the best of her. Severus, on the other hand, lay quietly on the bed, the only indication that he even heard her words was the small smirk playing on his lips. She really was the smartest witch of her age. No, not just the smartest witch. She was smart, period. Who else but someone with Hermione's large intellect could pinpoint exactly what had been bothering him so quickly?

"Are you just going to lay there all night? You call me immature for ignoring you, and now you're ignoring me? That's very mature. The most mature behavior I've seen in a whi—" Hermione's sarcastic tongue was cut off mid-word. Severus had moved quickly from the bed, coming up behind the pacing form of his wife. Grabbing her upper arms, he spun her around quickly. He bent down and covered her mouth with his own, all the while not breaking the grip he had on her arms.

Hermione didn't realize it yet, but she didn't have to go to the trouble of arranging a nice dinner in their quarters or dressing in her most appealing clothes to attract the attention that a wife expects from her husband. All Hermione had to do was become angry. The anger put a glint in her eye that Severus could not bring himself to ignore. And he had tried. The past two days had given him ample opportunity to witness the fiery temper his wife possessed and he had managed not to react in a carnal way. There was only so much attraction a man could ignore.

Hermione had stiffened at the feeling of his hands on her arms and was unreceptive when she first felt his lips on hers. But they were soft lips, a gentleness lying casually underneath the eagerness. Soon she found herself returning the pressure, her arms snaking their way up and around his neck. His grip loosened on her upper arms, his own arms winding themselves around her body, bringing her closer. She opened her lips when she felt his tongue tracing the line of her lower lip, allowing him more access than she had the first time they kissed. That kiss had been for show, while this one was private and far more passionate.

Not breaking the kiss, Severus lead them the few short steps over to the bed, pushing Hermione down underneath him. After a moment or two more of this same general act, Hermione pushed Severus away, wanting to catch the breath she seemed to have lost.

"I'm still mad at you." She said simply, though the way her arms were still wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangled casually in his hair, told a different story.

"That's fine." Was his short response, before bringing his lips to her neck, causing a small moan to escape her lips. As the sound hit Severus' ears he couldn't help but think that as much as he found her anger attractive, her moans were much more so. He'd do his best to hear a few more like that before the night was over.

A/n, part II: I won't promise an update soon. It is summer and I expect I'll have a lot more time on my hands, but its becoming glaringly obvious that I never update any sooner than half a month later. Now, as far as this chapter goes, I'm not 100 satisfied. I like the beginning and the end, but a lot of the middle doesn't feel quite right. I'm trying to my hardest to keep them IC, but I'm afraid a bit of OOC might have slipped in with Severus.

Mother of Tears: I'm sorry I tortured you for so long. I know its not exactly in this chapter, per se, but I hope this bit of leading up to the consummation was enough to put you out of your misery.