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Safe. Hermione knew the definitions—unlikely to cause harm, in a position that offers protection. And yes, she really could spout them off word for word. A couple of months of living with Severus had proven to her once and for all that she really was a know-it-all. He never failed to point that fact out less than twice a day, an odd look of bemusement on his face. She knew the definition of safe and yet she had never quite felt that way. Before the days when she knew magic existed she was nothing but a child, too smart for her own good and far too aware of the dangers of the world. After she started Hogwarts there were new dangers afoot. Months after the final war and even more months after her required wedding, Hermione understood safe. The stone walls of Hogwarts, though standing the test of time, weren't what gave her a feeling of security, but rather the arms that inevitably found their way around her shoulders after she had fallen asleep. It wasn't the knowledge of the elders who lived within those castle walls, but the knowledge that one of the bravest men in history had a personal stake in her life. It wasn't the fact that Voldemort was gone for good that made her know 'safe', but the fondness the man who helped defeat him had for her.
They still had their ups and downs—more downs than most couples, but more ups than she had ever imagined for their union. Not a day went by that he wouldn't slip up and call her 'Miss Granger', eliciting a 'humph' from her and the silent treatment until he apologized. There were days when she couldn't tell if he referred to her by her maiden name out of true forgetfulness or simply because he liked to see her mad once in a while. The latter seemed like a much more viable option for a man who could tell you at any given time how much of each ingredient was in his personal possession for potions. Every time he apologized for his mistake was another down for them. He became moody and irritable at having to admit he was wrong (whether his wrong was intentional or not) and 'I'm sorry' still didn't come easily to his thin lips. All things considered, however, they had far more ups in their relationship. Well suited in intellect, conversation rarely ran dry and only at times when both were far too engrossed in reading or work to bother with speaking. Then they coexisted well for two such explosive tempers. And of course other more nocturnal habits didn't hurt them at all.
And all the while that the two had more or less become one, their separate lives continued, albeit they didn't thrive as they once had. Hermione still had Harry and Ron and Ginny, too. But she didn't see much of them since Severus had become very much a part of her life. Inevitably she'd be speaking and mention his name, stalling the conversation. Two separate lives really weren't as possible as it seemed when those closest to you wanted nothing to do with a big part of your life. When friends disappointed, schoolwork and studying filled the gaps. Her seventh year was progressing as it should have, the only small hic-up being the shift in her potions master. Severus wasn't allowed to teach her, so Dumbledore stepped in, teaching his first class in over fifty years.
Severus had work that filled his days and much of his evenings. It only took a few days of the insolent brats whispering behind his back for him to end all gossip. A simple threat of minus fifty house points and detention for two months at the slightest mention of either he or Hermione in reference to anything nonschool related. Rumors died, gossip curdled, and Severus Snape was back to his usual domineering self. Beyond all reasonable logic, life was actually going well in the Snape house.
Was being the operative word.
Several more months passed by and Hermione and Severus fell into a rhythm and routine that was rarely broken. Classes for each during the day, dinner in the Great Hall on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, in their rooms all other nights. The evenings were spent on homework or grading papers. And when one got tired, the other followed them to bed soon after. It was a regular, peaceful, boring, mundane life they led. They rarely fought about more than a blouse being in a wrong drawer (Severus' pet peeve) or the bathroom not being left as neat and tidy as it was found (Hermione's). And that's where Hermione was one afternoon, the day that was became wasn't and the sentence transformed into "very logically, life wasn't going well in the Snape house".
The shock was still fresh when Severus returned from his last class of the week, as much of a skip in his step as Severus was able to manage. A barely noticeable exuberance in his walk would be more like it. It was noon on Friday, there were no more classes until Monday and the devilish side of him could think of quite a few ways to spend the weekend and not have to leave the rooms. Not expecting Hermione until three at the earliest (her surname may have changed to Snape, but she was still Hermione Granger underneath it all, book worm, know-it-all, and a devout visitor of the library every afternoon as soon as classes finished), Severus entered his rooms with a carefree air that few had ever seen, and Hermione had only witnessed once. Not so far as actually smiling, he undid the wards on the door and announced his entrance to the empty room with a soft, under the breath, whistling.
He continued his whistling into the bedroom, where he hung up his cloak, and even got so far as sitting on the bed before he noticed another being in the room. It was that phenomenon, where a person gets so used not seeing something at a certain time, that when they do see that something at that time they tend to gloss right over it in order to only see what they're used to , that took effect on Severus. He was fully seated on the edge of the bed, one foot propped on the opposite knee, shoe in hand, preparing to pull it off, before he noticed the figure of his wife curled up in the middle of the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was even, and she looked for all intents and purposes to be sleeping soundly. It was odd enough to see her on a Friday afternoon that early, and even odder for her to be napping. Hermione Snape simply did not nap. She was a strong believer in going to bed consistently at night and waking up at the same time each morning. Naps, she insisted, only served to mess up the system.
Severus continued to remove his shoes and finished the process of changing into his weekend clothes (far more casual than his menacing dark robes). He was neither louder nor quieter than he would have usually been had Hermione not been in the room, though he did stop whistling, aware that the noise might wake her. His unintentional quite wasn't enough, however. He returned from the bathroom to find her on her back, eyes wide.
"You're home early," he said as he walked into the room, drying his hands on a towel, "I wasn't expecting…" At this word, Hermione curled back up the way she had been, he knees drawn up to her chest.
"Are you alright?"
"We're expecting."
A/n: Don't shoot the author!! Please? I know its been forever and a day since my last update and there's no good reason, but maybe this'll make up for it? Maybe…