Sterope had left them on Hermione's doorstep and with a mad dash, the curly-haired witch disappeared into the washroom. She scrubbed under scalding water until she was squeaky clean and practically shining. When she stepped back into the hall of her parents' old house, she noticed the Potions' Master had not moved from the entrance.

He was still, standing stick straight as he stared into the living room. Frowning, she approached him slowly, dressed in little more than her robe. She raised her hands to cup his face, forcing his gaze on her. "Hey," she whispered, her thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones until he shifted his eyes to hers.

She knew he was thinking of that night... And the many days that followed. She had tumbled into the living room, having nearly splinched herself. The man had landed flat on his back, his feeble breath knocked from him. The young woman had crawled over to him, covered in dirt and his blood. Her eyes wild and terrified as she took hold of his face, much the same way as she did now. "You're safe," she said, fighting the tremor in her voice and cutting through his memory. "We're safe. We're alive."

The man in black reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. His nose was buried in the wilds of her curls, breathing her in. Filling his lungs with jasmine and old books and fresh ink and something so... her. She melted in his embrace, one hand in his hair holding him steady. She let out a long, slow breath. The tightness in her chest relented and she gave in to the warmth of him around her, his scent surrounding her and every one of her senses was filled with him. "I'm so glad you're alive," the confession fell from her lips before she could stop it, her arms tightening around him still.

His hand lifted to catch her jaw, pulling her in for a searing kiss. His mouth was hot on her own, hungrily attacking her lips as he pulled desperate sighs from her. One after the other as he coiled around her tighter still, crushing her to him. His large hand found the back of her neck and she gasped, her lips parting as his tongue slid along hers, leaving her dizzy as he stole away her breath. His fingers trailed along her spine and across her waist as he tugged at the sash that kept her robe closed. Suddenly, she could feel his calloused hand on her skin, gripping her bare hip tightly.

Her knees buckled and she was jelly in his embrace, her hands fisting the wool of his coat, pulling him impossibly nearer. Her skin was on fire, desire chasing through her. "Severus," she gasped. "Severus, take me to bed. Make me yours. Your wife."

His response was a growl against her lips, his eyes flashing open to stare hard into hers. "Gods, yes,"

They lost the afternoon to each other's touch. To sighs and whispered praise. To a tango of lips and teeth and tongues and tangled limbs until the early evening hours.

Hermione had eventually drifted off, curled around him like devil's snare every time he shifted. The subconscious gesture brought a small smile to his lips. His delicious little witchling wife had staked her claim without a moment's hesitation. He found he did not mind her possessiveness, in fact he preferred it. To have someone finally want him. All of him. It was a marriage of convenience, to keep her from prison, though he suspected they would both greatly benefit from their union.

His fingers traced runes along her bare skin, mapping out every inch of her as he admired her in the soft light of the setting sun from the large window.

Her eyes fluttered open and she hummed, wiggling into his arms as he laughed. A warm, comforting sound that tugged at her heart. "Sickle for your thoughts?" she asked sleepily, burying her face in his chest.

Snape chuckled again, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Admiring my new bride," he replied honestly, earning a fierce blush from his lover.

"Who knew I'd end up married to Severus Snape, grump extraordinaire?"

He raised a brow at that. "Grump extraordinaire? Is that the best you can come up with?"

She giggled against his chest, leaning back to meet his eyes. She found happiness there and her breath caught, her heart squeezing. "However will I leave you and this bed? I think I shall skip the trial entirely and risk the consequences."

He frowned at her. "No, Madam, you shall not. I would prefer to not visit my new wife in prison where she is held for contempt and evading the law."

She rolled her eyes. "Spoilt sport."

His brow furrowed further. "I did not subject myself to marriage to an insufferable know-it-all such as yourself only to have your political dreams squashed by... impetuousness."

Hermione groaned, scrubbing her face and rolling onto her back. "Sweet Circe, I'm naked in bed with a wizard and we're discussing politics. And prison. I really am insufferable, aren't I?"

A bubble of laughter escaped the Potions' Master for the third time that evening and he reached out a long arm to pull her back against him. A hand lifted to push back the hair from her face as his mouth came down on hers. He kissed her slowly, so painfully and deliciously slowly, the hand on her face curling around her nuque to hold her firmly in place. She mewled, once again curling around him, her limbs tangling with his. Her hands reaching out to grab him anywhere she could, craving his closeness.

He leaned on his propped elbow, a finger running along her cheek as she pouted. "I should consider myself lucky. With my age, I only need to suffer you for a century or so,"

The woman's jaw dropped open and she fought the urge to swat at him. "That's a terrible thing to say to your wife of only a few hours. No wonder you did not marry before."

Severus shot her a glare, amusement in his eyes as he allowed her quip. "Yes, another embarrassing truth my sister decided to impart upon you. You are entirely trapped with her now. She decided she liked you."

Her lip caught between her teeth and she moaned as he wiggled it free with his thumb, her face flushing. "About that..." She tried hard to focus on her train of thought, the man was too distracting. "How ever did you manage to keep that secret? Colour me impressed."

A proud smirk lifted his lips as he traced her face with one finger. His eyes sparkled with devilment and something low in her belly curled. "That is the beauty of being so very ugly, nobody could believe that such a beautiful witch could be born from the same union that made such a terribly ugly wizard."

Hermione frowned at him, her stare piercing. "You are not ugly. Unconventional, yes. Striking, evidently. Ugly? I won't have any of your derogatory spiel."

He sighed, his eyes fluttering shut a moment. "My poor deluded wife. She would defend me from myself in her delusions."

Her cheeks rosied again. "I will always defend you," she stated, her tone firm. "Always, Severus. Never forget it."

His heart thudded at her words as he drew her in again, hovering over her to catch her lips with his own. He let himself get lost in her throughout the rest of the evening, surrendering to her fragile heart. He had no intention of ever letting this witch go.