A/N: A hint of Christmas in July? And you only had to wait 6 months (to the day!) this time! Please leave your comments, questions, and critiques - we may need a bit more cheer to get through the next one.

Chapter 28: Gearing Up For The Holidays

At her husband's grumble, Hermione followed his gaze down the corridor to where Tonks leaned casually against his office door. She quickened her pace and offered a wave, which was happily returned.

"Didn't nick me any biscuits from the Head Table?" Tonks spied their empty hands.

"If I'd known you were coming," Hermione replied.

Severus opened his office door, ignoring the pair. Once inside, he faced the Auror with a questioning look.

Tonks produced a copy of the previous day's Daily Prophet and unfolded it to their picture. "I'll sign your copy if you sign mine."

The wizard merely folded his arms in response.

"Okay, then," she sighed, returning it to her robe pocket. "I'm still framing it and hanging it on my wall."

"Do you even have the space?"

"Oh ho!" Tonks scoffed. Seeing Hermione's confused expression, the Auror explained, "Someone's feeling tight in his trousers because we don't all have a big, fancy office to shove full of creepy, dead shit."

As the two witches snickered, Severus cleared his throat. "And what have you found?"

"Bupkis." Tonks dropped onto the corner of his desk despite his attempt to redirect her to a chair. "Good bupkis and bad bupkis, but bupkis all the same."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Arthur Weasley and I went through your parents' house top to bottom –"

"You did?!"

Tonks glanced quizzically at Snape before nodding. "Your grumpier half gave me access to the wards after we sorted out Which Wizard. Arthur and I waited until your folks left for church on Sunday morning, then popped in. We went through that house with a fine-tooth comb until they returned. The yard we'll hit in the morning since we both have time in our schedule, but so far – nothing nefarious and no magical signatures left behind."

Severus rubbed at his forehead. "So, we're left with nothing but Bastian Gellert."

"And on that front, still nothing solid," Tonks confirmed. "We've got someone working on the photos to see if there are any clues left behind, and we're checking records for potential matches."

Nodding, the wizard handed over a parchment scroll. "These are the possibilities Hermione and I could find in the Hogwarts records."

"Ooh!" Tonks eagerly snatched it and unfurled it. "I'll give 'em a look through, though I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Yeah, we know," Hermione sighed.

"The Headmaster believes it a waste of time to even look," Snape muttered. "Using that particular false name could indicate it's someone with blood from the Bastian or Gellert lines, or –"

"Or they don't have any connection to those two families and really wanted to shift attention away from their true lineage," Tonks finished. "Not exactly my first investigation, Professor."

"Fair enough." Snape held up his hands.

The Auror stuffed the roll of names in her pocket and stood. "I'll send word if we uncover anything on either front. Let me know if anything useful springs to mind."

She chucked Hermione under the chin while crossing to the door. "If I have to come out here, though, there better be biscuits."

"Whether or not a Statute violation has taken place, no one can dispute that Mrs. Snape's lack of decorum is a slap in the face to polite society and tradition. Why any decent witch would idolize her is beyond me."
– Lester Altbinger

"I'll show you a slap in the face, Lester," Hermione sneered, seated behind her husband's desk. Though she had avoided reading the Daily Prophet's Opinion page at breakfast, she had succumbed to temptation during her free period instead of revising for next week's exams.

"Clearly, given her Muggle upbringing and youth, Mrs. Snape could benefit from extra guidance in Wizarding society. However, I think too many are attributing her faux pas to intentional deviance rather than youthful naivete. With a little proper shaping and guidance, I would cheerily extend her an invitation to tea."
– Ophelia Peakes

"An invitation I would cheerily chuck in the bin," Hermione grinned.

"While I sympathize with Snape in his protest over privacy violations, I might suggest going forward that such behavior be relegated to the bedroom where it belongs."
– Rowan Wandsworth

Mouth agape, the witch snapped the paper shut and shoved it away. I can't believe they published that.

Recalling the article that had necessitated their entire sham marriage, however, she grimaced. Of course, they'd publish it.

Having lost most of her motivation to revise, Hermione decided she might as well sacrifice the rest. She pulled her mother's letter from the pocket she had stuffed it in at breakfast.

Hermione, my darling girl

She rolled her eyes.

I recognize your father and I have not responded to your marriage as well as you expected. I apologize for upsetting you, but consider our perspective. How might you feel were we to adopt a child and let you find out from a reporter months later?

"Ouch," she winced.

Despite our misgivings, we do appreciate having our safety finally taken into consideration.

"Double ouch."

Please pass our gratitude onto your husband. With time, I am certain we shall come to know him better and perhaps begin to understand some of your feelings for him. His accomplishments do sound impressive, at least to those of us unfamiliar with Wizarding education, and I pray he shall make some effort to support you in achieving yours.

"Such confidence you have, Mum."

I must admit he reminded me a bit of Uncle Drew. Do you see a resemblance?

"No," Hermione growled. She skimmed the details of their planned holiday in Switzerland, then shoved the letter away and leaned her head back on the chair. She studied the odd ceiling architecture while considering her response.

Before long, the office door swung open, and Severus strolled in lugging a crate of rattling student potions. The witch hopped up to assist him, taking the precariously balanced stacks of parchment from atop the crate.

"Where do these go?"

"The table," he gestured toward their quarters. "Fourth column. Top-most stack goes toward the wall."

Nodding, Hermione carried the essays into their sitting room. Since the top essay belonged to one of her classmates, she confirmed Snape organized his marking according to class timetable – five days across, four periods down. Though hardly important, she was proud of herself for having cracked his system.

Her amusement faded upon returning to his office, where she found him tidying up her things. "Really?"

"It's my desk."

Hermione quickly took over the task. "I'd swat you, but apparently I'm to confine such things to the bedroom."

"What?" he choked. When she held up the Daily Prophet, he snatched it from her and immediately deposited it in the fireplace. "Were you ready for supper?"

Quirking a smile at his discomfited expression, she stepped around his desk and took his arm. They walked in silence up to the Great Hall, where they separated for the meal, and each suffered through their peers' chatter.

After he recollected her from Gryffindor Table, they made their way back to their quarters. Nearing the dungeons, he finally cleared his throat. "So, what terrible atrocities did Uncle Drew commit?"

"What?" Hermione snapped her eyes to him, knowing he had read her letter. Of course, he did. You're married to a bloody spy, and you left him alone with it.

"The resemblance… I presumed it code."

"It is, yes," she winced. As they entered his office again, she sighed. "He was my mother's uncle by marriage. He, erm, married Aunt Moira, then gradually cut her off from family and friends and pretty much everything she loved. I never met either of them but have heard the stories."

At his odd grunt, the witch grabbed his elbow to catch his attention. "Just so you know, I don't see the resemblance."

"No?" he queried, gliding behind his desk.

Hermione frowned at his tone. "I don't. And I will make it clear to her that I don't."

Shrugging, he opened his gradebook. "I truly do not care what your parents think of me. Though I appreciate her subterfuge."

"Of course, you do."

Severus smirked as he held up a fourth year's potion to the light. When she was still watching him three potions later, he cleared his throat. "Something else on your mind?"

The witch shifted her weight. "I guess I'm wondering what your family think of me."

He paused, jotting down a note in his gradebook. "Why?"

"Why? Because, for all intents and purposes, I'm your wife –"

"Not all of them," he corrected.

Hermione blushed. "Fine. But everyone thinks we are. You've met and put up with my parents, who… aren't thrilled –"

He snorted.

"—And I'd like to know what I should expect from your family."

The wizard shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest what they think of you, nor do I frankly care."

"But…" She pressed her hip into his desk. "You don't want me to meet your parents?"

Severus frowned at the precipitate visible in a student's potion. "I think you'll find that meeting difficult to arrange seeing as they're both presently deceased."

"But you're only…" Hermione grimaced, recalling how young Harry had been when he was orphaned. "Sorry. I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

He shrugged, evaluating another potion.

"Siblings?"

"None living."

"Other family?"

Snape marked a student before answering. "My mother's side does not acknowledge me, and I do not acknowledge my father's side."

"Oh." Hermione nervously rubbed her neck, recalling how Malfoy had laughed at the Snape family's reputation. "I'm sorry."

"It is what it is." He held another flask to the light. "What it isn't is something to concern yourself over."

His wife pinched her lips together, uncertain what to say. She felt wrong prying into his life and knew she had reached his limit for privacy violations. What he had revealed, however, upset her. How unfair is it I dump all my family problems on him when he has no support himself?

"Wait, why is it yellow?" she gasped at the next student's flask.

"Because it's fucked."

Hermione snorted in surprise and covered her mouth.

Smirking, he held it up between them and pointed out the bits floating in it. "Two problems. Firstly, the chopping is abysmal. Secondly, what was abysmally chopped was goosegrass, not scurvygrass as it ought to have been."

"You can diagnose what went wrong that quickly?"

"I've taught most of these brews since I took over this position. There aren't many mistakes I haven't seen before." He picked up another flask, noting the brownish tint. "The flame was left too high for too long."

"Huh."

"There are occasional surprises, but they are regrettably few and far between."

"Regrettably?"

"There's at least something interesting in figuring out where it went pear-shaped."

Hermione leaned down to study the line of already-marked potions. "Has anyone ever made a beneficial mistake?"

"As in one that actually improved the potion?" He jotted down a note. "Once in a very great while."

"What happens in those cases?"

"I discuss it with the student, offer them an opportunity to repeat and test it. If the improvement is reproducible and significant, we submit it for review. Whether or not it gets accepted by potioneering societies, I suggest the alterations in future classes."

"That's incredible. I'm jealous my mistakes were never good ones."

"There's still time."

Hermione stood up. "Right. On that note, I should probably get back to revising. But thank you for explaining."

At his grunt, the witch collected her stack of study materials and meandered into the sitting room. Settling on the sofa, she cracked open a textbook. She got a paragraph in before her mind wandered back to her husband, and her eyes drifted to his office door. As irritated as she had been by her mother's letter that afternoon, she was now infuriated by it after learning he had lost his family.

Closing her book, she located a fresh sheet of parchment.

Mother,

I've passed your gratitude and well-wishes onto Severus, who is gracious enough not to be offended by your criticism. He recognizes it is out of concern for my well-being. In that, you have a common goal.

I do not see the least bit of resemblance between him and Uncle Drew. Perhaps you were thinking of Uncle Robert? They have much in common; it must be what you mean.

Hermione smirked, recalling the quiet war veteran who seemed to detest gatherings but always helped when and where he could. He had passed shortly before McGonagall arrived on their doorstep, Hogwarts invitation in hand.

I hope you and Dad enjoy your Swiss holiday. Severus has no surviving family, so we'll be on our own for Christmas. That said, I am looking forward to sharing an intimate first holiday season with him.

Hermione worried her lip, wondering if she should start over or leave the insinuation in place. It would undoubtedly add more fuel to the fire, which was not what she wanted to do. However, she felt her mother had been callously unfair in her criticism of Snape, who had gone out of his way to support her. If he could publicly bring the Aurory down on a magazine on her behalf, she could at least privately offend her mother on his.

After finishing her letter, the witch hustled back to his office before she lost her nerve. Her husband paused in marking an essay to glance up at her.

"Erm, would you possibly have time to escort me up to the Owlery? I'd like to send this." She held up her letter.

Severus rubbed his forehead in irritation.

"It could wait until morning," she mumbled.

Shaking his head, the wizard gestured to the fireplace. "Floo to the Staff Stationery. It's at the base of the stairs to the Owlery."

"What, alone?" Her eyes brightened. "The scandal!"

"Disillusion yourself if you're that concerned." Severus picked up his quill and dipped it in the red ink. "I trust you're competent with that charm."

Hermione nodded. "Can I get back in through the Stationery?"

Snape pinched his lips before answering. "The password is 'scratchensnift'."

"Really?"

"Pomona set the password this term. Fairly bland for her, to be frank." After she thanked him, the wizard cautioned, "Watch yourself on the Owlery stairs. If you slip on the ice and knock yourself out whilst Disillusioned, no one will find you unless they trip over you first."

Hermione picked up the tin of Floo powder. "But you'd come looking for me, wouldn't you, if I wasn't back in a reasonable time?"

"Eventually," Severus sighed. When she disappeared through the fireplace, however, he checked the clock.

"If you have nothing better to do than stand around gawking, I will personally escort you back to the castle to revise for your exams." Severus watched the group of wide-eyed students scramble out of the aisle. "Five points from Hufflepuff!"

"Is that really necessary?" Hermione asked.

"Apologies for dismissing your adoring public," he sneered.

She shot him a look over her shoulder. "That's not… just how many points are you planning to take today?"

"As many as it takes."

Sighing, Hermione picked up a pink box of hair-coloring nougats from the shelf. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

"Bah humbug."

She turned her head to hide her smile.

"If that's for a Weasley, you'd hardly notice the difference."

The witch frowned. "I was thinking Ginny, but maybe Luna?"

"Why not Potter?"

"It's fuchsia." Shaking her head, she grabbed a purple and a blue box to add to her basket.

Snape leaned against a pillar. "No green?"

"I'm not setting myself up for those comments, thank you." She glanced back at him before pointedly grabbing a red box.

As she turned, her husband snatched the box from her hand and turned it over to read the bottom. "Utter rubbish."

"What?"

"Four nougats for 16 sickles?" he scoffed.

Hermione grabbed it back. "You're taking it out of my funds anyway, so…"

"I could take a third of the cost out of your funds if you make it yourself," Severus argued. "They'd certainly last longer than a quarter hour and could be far more interesting."

The young witch stared at him. "You can make these?"

He raised his eyebrow in challenge.

"In time for Christmas?"

"Start to finish, it takes maybe six hours. Five if you let the elves prepare the chocolate shells."

"You'll show me?" At his nod, she returned all four boxes to the shelf. "What about Sugar Quills? Can you make those?"

"There isn't enough time or patience in the world." Snape pushed off the column to follow her. "That said, they're ten knuts cheaper at Honeydukes."

"How?" she stopped. "They're always cheaper at Zonko's."

"Not with my discount."

She tilted her head. "You get a discount at Honeydukes?"

"Hogwarts staff get fifteen percent; I get twenty."

"On everything? Alright, then. Any ideas for my parents?"

Sighing, he glanced about the shop. "I'm not sure what says, 'Apologies for bedding your daughter without permission'."

"Well, normally we charge a five Sickles a word for engraving, but that we'd throw in for free," George Weasley beamed, startling the couple.

"George!" Hermione moved to hug him but was subtly prevented by her husband's arm. Leaning against Snape, she swallowed her embarrassment over nearly committing another public faux pas. "What are you doing here?"

Giving her a sympathetic wink, George explained, "Bilmes is looking to get out of the business. Fred and I are partnering with him for a few years until we can buy him out of Zonko's."

"Joy," Severus mumbled, while his wife congratulated the ginger-haired wizard.

"As for your quandary, Professor…" George tapped his chin pensively. "It's a bit long for a Whiz-bang message, but perhaps 'Sorry about the Sex' could do?

"Oh!" he snapped his fingers. "What about 'Whoopsie on the Whoopee'!"

"Merlin's sake," Snape growled at the ceiling.

As Hermione hid her flaming face against her husband's arm, George pulled a pen and notepad out from his pocket. "I've gotta tell Fred that one. Thanks, Professor!"

"Don't mention it."

After making a quick note, the wizard stowed his notebook away and gestured to the pair. "Speaking of making whoopee, we've got –"

"No!" Hermione pulled away from her husband and held up her finger in warning. "If you have any loyalty to Gryffindor House, you will walk away and not say another word because he will strip our hourglass of every last point."

Chuckling, George saluted them before casually sauntering away.

A moment later, Severus cleared his throat. "You do realize as he's no longer a student, I cannot actually –"

"But he doesn't know that," she hissed, setting down her empty basket. "Let's go to Honeydukes before he calls our bluff."

"Lead on, Madam."

"I will Avada myself right here," Snape threatened when his wife looked toward Madam Puddifoots.

Hermione flexed her hand within his. "Three Broomsticks, then?"

"Too good to clean your own glass at the Hog's Head?"

"After putting up with your grouchiness all day, I think I deserve a bit more cheer," she muttered as they approached the crowded tavern.

Once inside, Severus led her toward the back, where he found a small table in the corner. He left her long enough to place an order at the bar, then sank onto the bench beside her. He hunched over the table; his eyes tracking every patron in the pub.

Hermione unbuttoned her coat and cleared her throat. "Something wrong, love?"

Sighing, the wizard sat back. "Not explicitly. Yet."

"Are you always this fun on Hogsmeade trips?" she asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Severus snorted and crossed his arms. "I assure you: this is me with a bit more cheer."

The witch shuddered as Rosmerta appeared with a tray. She slid a hot Butterbeer toward Hermione, then placed a steaming mug of coffee and messy plate of chips drenched in gravy in front of Snape. "No cheese today."

"How am I supposed to get through the day, witch?"

Rosmerta tucked the tray beneath her arm and glanced between the couple. "Five Sickles gets you a room for an hour."

As Hermione choked on her drink, Severus rolled his eyes. "Any other amusing suggestions for getting me sacked?"

The barmaid walked away cackling.

Picking up his coffee, Severus nudged the plate to the table's center. At his gesture, Hermione hesitantly picked up a chip and popped it in her mouth. Wiping a dribble of gravy from her chin, she moaned, "Oh, that's good."

"It's better with cheese," he grumbled, reaching for his own.

Hermione shook her head but refrained from commenting as they ate together. She had not realized how hungry she was, but walking about the village, tolerating her husband's sputterings for nearly three hours had burned through her lunch. When she noticed how many critical looks were pointed in her direction, however, she wiped her fingers on a napkin and picked up her Butterbeer. Relishing the sweet drink, she turned to rest her shoulder against Snape's arm in a way that hopefully did not look as awkward as it felt.

Severus turned his head to murmur in her ear, "I feed you, and you treat me like furniture?"

The witch smirked. "But you're so comfortable."

He raised an eyebrow, which prompted her to giggle at the absurdity of her statement. Setting down his mug, he laid his left arm along the back of the bench and allowed her to settle less awkwardly against his chest.

With the steady din of the pub, the warmth of her drink, and the heat radiating off her husband, Hermione soon found her eyelids fluttering. Despite knowing the man would prefer to finish his meal in silence, she needed to stimulate her brain to stay awake. "What are we doing after this?"

Severus sopped up gravy with one of the last remaining chips. "You have more shopping?"

"Not today," she yawned. "I've exhausted my ideas for Mum and Dad… if they'd even accept gifts from me. From us? This is odd, isn't it?"

Her husband frowned. "You'd likely fare better without my name on it."

"Probably," she mumbled before glancing up at him. "No offense."

He rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.

"Did you have any shopping to do?" At his weary snort, she narrowed her eyes. "How much sleep did you get?"

"Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "Because you were still down in your lab at midnight when I went to bed, and you were up before me."

"I don't –" Severus swiveled his head and extracted his arm from behind her at the approach of two of his students. "What?"

"Apologies, sir," Fiona Higgs, a fifth-year Prefect, hesitantly flicked her eyes past him to Hermione, who pretended to suddenly be interested in her mug. "There's been an incident. Professor Flitwick is there, but I think you ought to be as well, sir."

The Slytherin Head immediately stood. "Miss Bletchley, if you would, wait here with Madam Snape, while –"

"I'd rather come with you," Hermione exclaimed, getting to her feet.

Snape eyed her a moment before deciding it was not worth the time trying to dissuade her. "Fine. Miss Higgs, explain while we walk."

Following behind, Hermione observed her husband as he silently absorbed information. Seeing his face darken and his step quicken, she thought again of him striding out of the Aurory and could not keep a smirk off her face.

Severus held the door to Zonko's open for the three witches, who all grimaced at the smell of a recently detonated Dungbomb, before striding past them to the front counter. He pushed through the gathered crowd of students and clapped a hand down on the shoulder of the scrawny third-year at the center. "Mr. Pierce."

"I didn't do it, sir."

He silenced the boy with a glare, then looked to his colleague. "Filius, have you gotten to the bottom of it?"

"Severus," Flitwick greeted sadly. "It appears Mr. Pierce walked out with a Dungbomb in his bag that had not been purchased."

"I didn't put it –"

Snape squeezed the boy's shoulder to shut him up.

"The proprietors are gracious enough to not press charges if the product is paid for… with a minor deodorizing fee."

Ignoring his fellow professor, Severus swept his eyes over the crowd, hesitating on a snickering trio of Gryffindors. He noticed George Weasley's gaze was similarly fixed. "I presume, Mr. Weasley, you have annoyingly clever anti-theft measures in place."

"You mean beyond the automatic detonation at the door?" the ginger-haired wizard grinned, extracting his wand. "Annoyingly Clever is my middle name."

At his wordless spell, Pierce's knapsack glowed blue. Snape yanked the boy's hands and gloves from his pockets and displayed to the shock of the crowd no trace of the revealing glow. "I trust this means what I think it does?"

George scratched his eyebrow. "That it would, sir."

With a pointed glare at Flitwick, Severus shoved the gloves and bag against Pierce's chest. At Weasley's quiet cough, he caught sight of the Gryffindors sneaking toward the exit. "Mr. Peakes, Mr. Coote, Mr. Boon."

Coming up against a line of Slytherins (and a sympathetic Hufflepuff), the three boys glumly turned about. At Snape's instruction, they revealed their hands.

"Well, well, Mr. Peakes," Snape raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you're the lucky winner. Once you've paid your fine, the four of us will be on our way to have a little chat with your Head of House."

As the boys moved to the counter and the crowd dispersed, Flitwick hustled after Snape. "Severus, I can escort them all back to the castle for you."

"That is not necessary," the Slytherin Head pivoted to a stop.

"Well, I wouldn't want to interrupt your outing any more than it already has," Flitwick explained, nodding toward Hermione.

Before her husband could say anything awful, Hermione ducked under his extended arm and placed her hand on his chest. Feeling the anger radiating from his person, she smiled at her Charms instructor. "Truly, it isn't any problem, Professor. He's had enough shopping, and I would really appreciate some time to revise."

"Oh," Flitwick exclaimed. "In that case, carry on!"

Hermione glanced pointedly up at Severus before stepping out from beneath his arm. She waited beside him until her errant Housemates and their smelly victim passed by. Once again outside, she doubled her steps to grab hold of Snape's arm.

At her forceful grab, the wizard turned into her.

"I understand you're upset," she hissed, "but Merlin's sake do not make me chase after you on the front page."

Expelling a breath, Severus lowered his head and forced his anger beneath the surface. When he lifted his head again, his placid expression visibly shocked his young bride. Somewhat amused by her reaction, he quirked his lips and ghosted a fingertip along her cheek. Stifling under the weight of two dozen eyes, the wizard mentally counted to ten before snapping his irritation back into place.

"Mr. Pierce," he growled, spinning back to face his gawking student. "If I were you, I would make my way with all haste to the Slytherin showers before humiliating myself even further in front of my House."

"Yes, sir," the boy flushed before hustling down the snowy lane.

"And should there be further incident, I will hand you over to the Deputy Headmistress myself!" Severus shouted after him. He picked up his blessedly silent wife's hand, settled it in the crook of his arm, and set off again at a slower pace.

Curled up on the sofa, Hermione absently stroked her cheek while she re-read a chapter for Herbology. When she finally realized what she was doing, she tucked her hand under her chin and let the book tip against her chest.

The witch knew, of course, that the way Snape had responded to her had been manufactured for the sake of their audience. Yet, she could not deny the warmth that pooled in her center under his soft gaze. Nor could she forget how the path his finger traced along her cheek had tingled the entire trek back to the castle.

"Ugh, gods," the girl groaned, covering her face with her book. To have a man look at her like that, touch her like that, yet have that man be Snape and it all be fake. Life was truly unfair.

Hearing a door open, Hermione scrambled up to her feet. She was meant to be studying, not daydreaming about her husband, who was still in a terrible mood given the slamming of the door. She crept toward the office door, which was ajar, and watched the snarling wizard throw his winter wear on the floor before he began violently opening and closing desk drawers.

"It's your own bloody fault, Severus, that this is even an issue!" Snape mocked in a Scottish falsetto as he slammed a piece of parchment down. "Couldn't be arsed to do a damn thing about it, though… useless bloody harridan. Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Snape?"

Hermione hugged her book to her chest and hesitantly stepped into his office. "Did something happen?"

"Not nearly as much as I would have liked to, no." He plopped into his chair and ripped a quill from its holder.

"What would you have liked?" she asked, moving closer.

"For expulsion to be on the table. For it to even momentarily be entertained as an option," Severus replied, gesturing through the air.

"For that?" Hermione gasped before slamming her mouth shut.

The wizard pinned her with a glare. "I recognize that your criminal history, madam, has likely desensitized you to these sorts of things, so you may be surprised to learn that framing another student for a crime is, in fact, a crime. Serious offences should warrant equally serious consequences, but alas, Gryffindors could attempt murder without so much as a detention."

Hermione stormed back into the sitting room, then stopped. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her book on the sofa and returned to his office. "Look, I understand you're angry and tired, but that doesn't mean you get to take it out on me. I had nothing to do with this. They aren't my friends; they aren't in my year; and, frankly, they think less of me than you do. And I… are you even listening? What are you doing?"

Severus glanced up from his desk. "Writing a letter to Mrs. Pierce, informing her of the situation. And yes, I'm listening. Very rarely am I ever not listening."

"You write to parents?"

"When I believe it necessary or safe to do so." He frowned as he re-inked his quill. "Does Minerva not?"

"Do you think I'd be here if my parents had any idea of what I've been through?" She sighed and twisted a loose curl. "But I suppose she has written Mrs. Weasley a time or two –"

"Or twenty-five." Severus began scratching out a message. "I presume Minerva figured, given your parents' naivete with the Wizarding World, that the consequences outweighed benefits in telling them of your escapades. Or the decision was made for her, as it often is."

"Is it wrong I'm glad they were in the dark? I mean, technically it's lying by omission."

He rolled his shoulders. "To my relief, my Head of House never contacted my parents. Though that was out of his laziness and my parents' lack of social capital rather than any calculated decision regarding my well-being."

Hermione pulled at her lip, debating how or if to continue the conversation. She was saved from making a decision by a knock on the door. Snape glanced briefly at her before bidding Malfoy entry.

"Nice to see you as well, Madam Snape," Draco smirked at her irritated sigh. "Sir. We've directed everyone back to the dorm before supper and are just waiting on a few stragglers. Any updates?"

Severus continued writing his letter. "Point loss and detentions during Hogsmeade weekends next term for all three. Suspension from the Quidditch team for the one caught blue-handed."

"I thought he was already suspended," the blond frowned, touching his head where the Bludger had hit.

"For the next match, he was. Now the rest of the season."

"Well done that," Draco nodded. "Surprised McGonagall even –"

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione crossed her arms.

Though Snape gave an appreciative smirk, his godson rolled his eyes. "I've heard the way your lot refer to our Head of House."

"I have always called him Professor," she countered.

"Always?" Draco cocked his head.

"Always."

The boy's grey eyes twinkled with amusement as he glanced at his godfather. "Kinky."

Severus looked up from signing his name and pointed at the door. "Out."

Woken by her head suddenly lolling to the side, Hermione blinked at the low light of the fire. Rubbing her eyes, she pushed her study materials off her chest and forced herself to sit up. She cast a Tempus charm, then slowly stood and stretched as she walked toward her husband's office.

Finding it empty, she crossed the sitting room to knock on his bedroom door yet received no response. She glanced around the room, frowning when she noticed Crookshanks parked with his nose to the door leading down to the private laboratory.

"He's still down there?" she asked the half-kneazle. "He hasn't come up in six hours?"

At the flick of her familiar's tail, Hermione sighed and rubbed her shoulder. She was not permitted to enter his private lab, yet Snape had become lax in enforcing his other ridiculous rules. Deciding to be brave, she shooed Crookshanks away from the door and dashed through it, closing it behind her. While she had required a Lumos to see anything in the dark hallway the last time she entered it, it was now lit by sconces located every six feet or so.

It was still chilly, especially since the witch had just roused from a nap. Fighting off a shiver, she folded her arms to her chest as she reached the bottom of the staircase. The door ahead of her was propped open, and she could hear muffled cursing from beyond it.

Exhaling slowly, she entered what was obviously a storeroom, better organized and with more varied ingredients than the one attached to the classroom. At the other end was another door opened onto a sizable lab space with several brewing stations. This was where she found her husband, hunched over a workbench, muttering obscenities to himself.

Though she said nothing, Severus whirled around. "Stop! What do you want?"

Having worked up a sweat while brewing, the wizard had abandoned his frock coat and cravat. With her eyes drawn to the glistening skin peeking out from his partly unbuttoned shirt, Hermione cleared her throat. "To make sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. Good night."

As he turned away, she frowned. "It's eleven-thirty."

Severus began scrubbing at the workbench. "And?"

"And I'm wondering if you would like me to order you something from the kitchens."

"I already ate."

"Since we returned from Hogsmeade?" Hermione assumed not based on his refusal to answer. "What are you doing?"

"Trial and error," he grumbled. "Mostly error."

The witch noted the cracked cauldron in the sink and the sticky globs surrounding him. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"You shouldn't even be here." Severus shook his head, then held up his hand when she shifted. "Not another step. This isn't… this isn't something you should know about."

Understanding the implication, Hermione retreated to the doorway. "Will you at least come up and get some sleep?"

He huffed loudly, then shrugged. "When I finish cleaning this up."

Accepting his answer, the witch made her way back up to their quarters where she slowly tidied her things and readied herself for bed. Once in bed, she went through Defense material in her head to keep herself awake until she finally heard doors open and close. A Tempus charm revealed it to be nearly one in the morning, but only when she heard the shower switch on did she finally close her eyes.

"Well, have a happy Christmas," Hermione smiled, cracking open her husband's office door.

Daphne furled her brow before nodding. "I hope you and Professor Snape enjoy your…holidays."

She began to walk toward the Slytherin dorms before turning back. "Oh, and your anniversary, of course."

"Of course," Hermione replied, hoping she did not sound nervous. She ducked quickly into the office, which was fortunately unoccupied. Snape still had one more class period left to the term, and if she remembered first year correctly, it would probably take them the full two hours to finish the exam.

After putting her things away in her room, Hermione freshened up in the lavatory before dropping onto the sofa. With exams finished, she should feel relieved. However, the reminder of her anniversary first thing that morning – it had been plastered on the second page of the Daily Prophet accompanied by another photo of them from Hogsmeade – had eliminated the meager excitement she felt at completing the term.

She had not broached the subject with Snape yet since he had been engaged in important discussions with the faculty during breakfast, and she had eaten another awkward lunch with her friends – several members of her House were still upset with her over the incident in Hogsmeade. Short of obliterating her reputation by shoving the man against the wall and performing some sort of sexual act on him in public, she really did not see how she was supposed to distract him from rightfully defending his student.

At the resulting images in her head, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and wiped her face. Taking a deep breath, she refocused on the problem at hand. Despite their first anniversary not being terrible, she was not keen to participate in another Narcissa Malfoy production. She especially did not want to wear any more of her clothes.

On that note, Hermione made for her room. If she had to parade around on his arm again, she was for damned sure choosing her own outfit. Standing in front of her wardrobe, she considered several options before finally holding up an outfit to Crookshanks. "I'm thinking Muggle tonight. You agree? Great."

The half-kneazle sleepily blinked at her, entirely disinterested in her clothing.

"Can you believe we've made it two months without serious injury or death?" Hermione asked, stripping out of her school uniform. "Maybe it is worth celebrating after all."

Once dressed in a form-fitting sweater and handkerchief skirt, the witch moved into the bathroom to play with her hair and plan. She had wrangled her hair into a messy, yet attractive knot and had one flutterwing earring in place by the time her husband strode through the door.

Severus made a beeline for the lavatory but stopped short upon noticing her attire. "What are you doing?"

Hermione fiddled with the earring in her hand. "It's been two months, and you haven't thrown me out. I assumed we might be going out again."

Grimacing, the wizard stepped past her and shut the bathroom door behind him.

"Oh-kay then," she sighed, moving to perch on the arm of the sofa. She put in her second earring and crossed her arms to wait for him.

Upon emerging, Snape cleared his throat. "I see no reason this time that we cannot mark the occasion without paying out the nose to have half of Diagon Alley watch us masticate."

"That really is a terrible word," she winced, following him as he collected exams from his office and brought them back to the sorting table. "And we wouldn't have to. As long as we're seen in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, we could go elsewhere. There are a few places in Muggle London I know."

He shook his head. "Given the holiday season and the nature of our supposed relationship, no one will find it suspicious we chose to celebrate it in private."

"Fine," Hermione folded her arms. "We can stay in but only if you agree not to disappear downstairs all night like you have been."

"That is not up for negotiation," he snarled. "I've already wasted too much time on –"

"I just don't want to spend the whole night by myself! Again. I don't have anything to study for right now, and I can't exactly go find my friends when I'm supposed to be here shagging you senseless, now can I?"

The wizard glared at the wall. "You may have nothing to do to keep yourself busy, Granger, but I have incredibly limited time to meet my obligations."

"An hour," she pleaded. "Or even half an hour! We don't need to talk at all. Just sit there and eat our meal together, and that's it. You can glare at me the whole time; I don't care. I just need another human being in the room. Please."

"Fine," Severus sighed. "I will meet with my Prefects to ensure things are in order for the morning departures. I then need half an hour to get a base simmering before I can break for supper. Satisfactory?"

Hermione sank back with a smile. "Thank you."

As she savored her roast chicken, Hermione had to admit her husband had been right to suggest they stay in. As odd as it was to eat in their sitting room – him sitting in the armchair and her on the sofa with the coffee table transfigured into a dining table between them – it was almost blissful eating together without being stared at or whispered about. And while she had been content to listen to the crackling fire and clinking silverware for a time, questions were piling up in her head.

She settled for one she considered innocuous. "So, do you have any Christmas shopping to do?"

"I don't celebrate Christmas," he replied, stabbing a Brussels sprout.

"What?" Her fork hitting the plate loudly, Hermione worried how she could ever explain that to her parents.

Severus finished chewing before explaining. "It's a Muggle holiday for a religion whose members burned our ancestors alive for simply existing. Excepting some individuals with Muggle relations – and the Weasleys, given their… fascinations –"

Her skin crawled at the insinuation within the word.

" – wizards do not typically observe the holiday. Yule or Saturnalia, yes, but not Christmas."

"Huh." She tapped her fingers on her water goblet, finally understanding the odd look Daphne had given her earlier. "But Hogwarts…"

"Allegedly became more welcoming to Muggleborns after Dumbledore took the helm, though his efforts were naturally perceived as a two-fingered salute to Wizarding tradition. The three holidays were initially celebrated together, however the Saturnalia feast diminished before disappearing entirely, and the Yule festivities were eventually rebranded."

Hermione stared at him in shock before slowly picking at the remnants of her vegetables. "I suppose it was the same with Easter hols?"

Severus nodded as he sipped his water. "Originally scheduled for celebrating the equinox and the spring goddess Eostre."

The witch expelled a long breath. "And that was just allowed to happen?"

"When you hold many strings, you may pull them in whichever direction you so choose."

Hoping to pull the conversation somewhere more cheerful, she cleared her throat. "Gift-giving is still a part of those holidays, yes?"

"Yes. I have no need to shop, however." At her expectant look, he rolled his eyes. "In a day or two, Lucius Malfoy will send me an egregiously expensive bottle of booze as he does every year. I will then pass that bottle on to the staff with a dozen doses of Hangover Relief because most of them will over-indulge."

Hermione quirked a lip in amusement. "And for the Malfoys?"

"I brew a few personal draughts."

"What sort of draughts?"

"Personal ones."

She snorted at her plate. Feeling brave, she asked, "And me? Should I expect a brew of some sort?"

The wizard leaned back in his chair as his empty plate disappeared. "And ruin the surprise? How shameful, Madam."

Hermione flushed over her water glass. "I meant to ask you earlier… what are we to do about break?"

"Dumbledore deemed it best we be seen together a time or two after the students depart," Snape grumbled. "You can then be off to celebrate Christmas with the others at Grimmauld. Provided, of course, that you keep your public excursions to a minimum, are adequately escorted during them, and check yourself for fleas before returning."

She ignored the dig at Sirius's home. "And what will you do?"

He sighed at the fireplace. "With any luck, I'll get some bloody work done."

Feeling guilty over making him wait, Hermione quickly finished her meal. After she thanked him for eating with her, he wasted no time in disappearing through the door to his lab.

Once she had returned the sitting room to its typical arrangement, the witch took her time selecting one of her long-neglected novels to read. She had just settled into the corner of the sofa with Crookshanks curled on her bare feet when her husband reappeared with his own book in hand.

"I thought you had to brew," she questioned as he reclaimed his armchair.

Severus shrugged as he flipped the book open halfway through and pulled a Muggle pen from his pocket. "I need to untangle some things before I waste any more ingredients."

"Or blow up any more cauldrons?"

His glare was cold enough to prevent Hermione from both asking if he had nicked the pen from her parents' house and expressing her indignation at his using it to write in the book's margins. Pinching her lips in censure, she turned her shoulder to keep herself from seeing such blasphemy and lost herself in the pages of her Muggle mystery.

So engrossed was she, that she viciously startled at a sudden, sharp hiss behind her.

Severus stood, snapping his book shut. "It appears you're not the only one demanding I entertain them this evening."