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Chapter Text

Severus stood in the library of Grimmauld place, looking out the window. The storm was coming. It was mid august and he could not wait for this Order meeting to be done and over with. Dumbledore, his delusional all-for-greater-good puppet master, was more cryptic than ever. Not giving away more than one thing at a time. As if knowing the entire plan would change a damn thing. As if Snape had any say in how the war will play out. It infuriated him. Voldemort, his other self-serving megalomaniac master, was becoming more and more relentless. Constantly planning new missions to instill the fear into wizards and muggles alike. For the first time in many years, Snape could not wait for the summer to be over. When the school term begins, he will finally have a proper reason to excuse himself from attending the madness at the Malfoy manor. To remain at the periphery of Voldemorts schemes. He was a spy, after all. Not a fucking mercenary.

There was another reason Snape desperately wanted to turn his back on summer. He missed seeing her. Her halo of honey colored curls, that seemed to only grow longer each year. He missed seeing her laugh with her friends, and catch her eyes across the school library. She never looked away, Snape thought. Her whiskey eyes filled with that Gryffindor bravado each time they locked gazes. Almost as if she dared him to move. To do...something.
He whispered her name on a sigh.
“Hermione.”

It was around her fourth year, when he could no longer view her as a disruptive, hand waving chit who constantly ruined his lesson plan with her excessive urge to prove herself. She was no longer annoying, but inquisitive. First, Miss Granger was just an intriguing mind. Then, slowly, that intriguing mind was joined by the pretty face. Snape remembered thinking, she will probably become a woman he once dared to dream of, when he himself was nothing but a teenager. Snape was certain Miss Granger would grow into a beautiful, powerful witch. He was, as usually, right. And as usually, that was not to his own benefit.

He knew all kind of witches. Beautiful, shallow, weak, cunning, ambitious… He never seemed to care much for any of them. Now...there was one who had captured his full attention. Too bad the one who was actually becoming that rare potent combination of all he desired in a woman, was nineteen years too young. Muggleborn. Gryffindor.

The door to the dingy townhouse library creaked open and pulled him out of his reveries. Snapes head snapped up and found his eyes locked with the witch he was just thinking of. As if summoned by his rather loud thoughts of her, Hermione Granger stepped forward, not blinking, not shying away from his dark, piercing gaze. “Hello, professor.” She greeted him softly, a hint of a smile lingering on her rosy lips.

The library was rather small and murky. Darker yet with the natural light going dim from the storm clouds. Yet there she was. The whole room seemed to come alight when she was in it.
“Miss Granger” he managed to nod in reply, schooling his face into an expressionless mask.
“Enjoying the last days of the summer?” he added a bit gruffly, raising that single imperious brow.
He took a step to the side, letting her walk past him. But he could not stop his eyes from roaming down her figure, drinking in the sight in front of him. The straps on her shoulders were so thin, he could barely see them there. Her milk white skin was dusted with tiny constellations of freckles. The dress was certainly vintage, one slate of Burgundy red fabric with small buttons down the front of her gown. How very Gryffindor, indeed. It was a tight fit from her waist up, almost corset like. From the waist down however, it flared out just enough to emphasise the curve of her hips. Severus thanked the Gods, it was just long enough to cover most of her legs. Under it, she wore some leather strapped sandals, that criss-crossed their way up her silky calves and under her skirt. Snape suddenly felt hot and overdressed, even if he was sans his usual teaching robes.
“Not so much, really.” She paused by the shelves, glancing back at him.
“Honestly, I cannot wait for the term to begin. I am not one to sit idly.”
“I see. I find myself in the same position.” He drawled.
“I can only enjoy the quiet of the castle for so long, before it starts to annoy me.”
Severus almost shook his head in astonishment. Since when did he converse so easily? Disclose his personal preferences?
“Have you ran out of interesting books then, Sir?” She dared ask, her elegant fingers rifling trough dusty stacks of books on a shelf near her head.
He got so caught up in watching Miss Granger caress the book spines, he almost forgot she actually posed him another question.
“Obviously...” the reply left his mouth before he could even collect himself. He scowled immediately, annoyed at the fact he obviously could no longer uphold his usual cold, detached demeanor.
“They only publish so much of new research articles per year. Unfortunately, most of them are rubbish.”
“You mean the National Potions publication?” Looking up, she smirked.
“I have read it and can only agree. Some of the ideas they presented sound like they were written up by a fourth year, and not a bright one at that. Last year, they at least had the decency to edit it properly.”
Her voice filled with outrage, as she spoke.
Severus almost laughed. And almost choked trying to hide it.

“All right there, Professor?” She turned, a thick volume in her hand.
“Khm. Yes. Indeed, your remark.” He was still struggling to breathe normally.
“It caught me by surprise.” Then, he almost choked again, seeing what tome she held in her hands.
“That book though, Miss Granger… do you intend to actually read it?”

Hermione glanced down and saw the naked woman on the velvet cover, a mans head buried between her legs. Her cheeks blushed a lovely pink shade. The spine of the book read Sorchas guide to protective magicks, but the front cover revealed the book was not, as she hoped, about warding, but about contraception. Under the picture, a small inscription said ‘protect your pleasure from burdens of undesired motherhood’.
“Oh, Gods!” Flustered, she all but shoved the book back on the shelf.
“Gods, no! I - Well. I only read the spine and thought it was about basic warding spells.” She sighed, obviously embarrassed.
“I need to learn how to ward my parents house.”
Severus felt like he should lift her mood somehow. “Perhaps...you could start with this one instead.”

Moving closer to Hermione, he felt her eyes on him. He towered over her and instead of waiting for her to retreat, he pulled a tome from one of the top shelves. Snape was standing so close their bodies almost touched. Stretching somewhere far above her, Hermione could not hide her awe.
She knew Snape was tall, but as he stood there, wearing only black trousers, a black shirt and a matching waistcoat, she drank in the contours of his figure. The victorian teaching robes he usually wore hid away his slim, muscular build. Now a classic mans watch was glinting at his left wrist, his sleeves were rolled up and exposed pale skin stretching tightly over beautiful musculature.

Hermione felt like salivating, when his long fingers held a large, green book with a washed out inscriptions on the cover. He held it to her, catching her gaze.
“This should be just the thing to get you started.” Snapes voice was smooth as velvet.
“It was my first book on the subject, anyway. Proprietary protection, by Phineas Wantalle.”
Hermione could feel the smile blooming on her cheeks, as she took it. Their hands touched briefly and sent a jolt of electricity racing up her arm.
“Thank you, Sir. It would have taken me the rest of the summer to find it. Now I can spend it reading up on the subject instead.”

They were silent for a moment, but she could not take it. She was so overwhelmed with gratitude, she could hug him. Of course she would do no such thing - except in her head. She desperately needed another outlet.
“Please forgive me for asking, I do not know your taste in literature, but perhaps I could recommend a few books I enjoyed reading?” A shy smile tugged at her lips, as she let her gaze leave the book in her hands, searching for his eyes instead.
“They just might ease your mind for the remainder of summer silence.” Hermione held her breath.

This is the most forthcoming she had ever been in conversation with him. Books felt so intimate to her, she felt as if she had just stripped herself naked. To their, obviously mutual surprise, he replied with a curt nod, as if signaling her to go on.
She became better at reading his almost immobile expressions in the past couple of years. At least one upside to her years long crush. Crush? An obsession, more likely. But Hermione learned quickly - his eyes were so emotional, so expressive, even if the rest of him remained still. Now, he was looking at her with a mix of surprise, curiosity and weariness. No scowling or snarling at her. That, at least, was good. Feeling encouraged, she went on.
“Khm. I better get to it. “ she said lightly.
Another surprised look, but he remained silent.

Snape was observing her like she was a rare bird that might just fly off, if he as much as made a sound. Hermione took a muggle pen and a leather bound notebook from the hidden pocket of her dress. She wrote down a list of her favourite muggle novels, ranging from murder mystery, to drama and dystopian fiction.
“There you go” she said finally, straightening up and holding a piece of paper between them. Severus could not help him self, he intently brushed his fingers over her hand for the second time in just minutes, as he took the offered list.
Just as he opened his mouth to say thanks, the door of the library almost flew off its hinges, followed by two dunderheads stumbling inside. Potter and Weasley. Of course.

“Here you are ‘Mione, we should have known you would already be hauled up here with… “ Potter never got to finish the sentence, so abruptly he stopped in his tracks as he spotted no one other than Severus Snape, holding Hermione’s hand.
Severus would laugh at the comical expressions passing the two faces, but he sensed Hermione tensing up as if she was caught red handed. Brushing a thumb over her fingers in a calming gesture, he felt quite reluctant to let go.
“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Granger.” He inclined his head in her direction, and strode off.

Watching Snape leave the room, Hermione almost sighed. The library grew wide and dark without his charismatic presence filling it. She turned to her boys, still gaping at her.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron recovered first.
“The bloody bat of the dungeons with his hands all over you?!” The outrage in his voice grew accusatory with every word.
“Professor Snape,” she emphasized, “just helped me acquire a book I spent the entire summer looking for.“ She felt like hissing.
“I tried to thank him by writing down some interesting book suggestions. I am not the only person in the world who actually reads!” Her voice had begun to pitch higher with her growing annoyance.
Honestly, why in the world did she need to explain herself over and over again?!

Harry, ever the mediator, thought it best to pull his friends out of the library, and back downstairs.
None of them noticed the dark wizard, who stood by the door to listen. The lightning split the sky as a crooked grin spread slowly over his features.

Chapter Text

The Order meeting adjourned late in the evening. When Severus walked the winding path back towards the castle, storm had already passed and left behind a clear night sky. He felt like his mind was filled to the brim. He needed to organize his thoughts desperately.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment and let the images unfold behind his closed eyelids.

The stormy sky. Hermione, as she entered the library. Hermione, as he stood so close he could almost feel her breath hitch. Hermione, biting her lip as he touched her hand. Hermione, berating those dunderheads she called friends. On his behalf, no less.
No one – not in a very, very long time at least, had defended Severus so matter-of-factly, as this little witch did. It satisfied him immensely that while the boys called him names, they still did not possess the spine to face him.
But Hermione did. She stood straight and matched his gaze, offered him kindness and warm smiles where others barely stood the sight of him. Grown wizards scurried from his presence, students cowered even by the look he sent their way. And Hermione? She wrote him a bloody book list.
Severus chuckled at the mere thought of it.

His fingers kept toying with that little piece of paper, tucked safely into his pocket, as he carefully filed away the information from the Order meeting. So many hours, so many words thrown away on useless debating. If Dumbledore simply told them what was what, they could actually achieve something.
Strategise.
Not that they would let him sit in the room if that was the case.

Severus sighed deeply as he climbed the stairs to the main gate. He really needed to stop circling around the pretty Miss Granger and focus.
To Severus, his mind was his most prized possession, and he was nothing if not meticulous about keeping it in order. In fact, maintaining any level of Occlumency required a rigorous control of ones thoughts and memories. That is why most of the wizarding folk did not posses that skill.
Not Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord could penetrate Severuses mind at this point. Not without his permission. Throughout the years of his role as a spy, Severus had felt time and time again - both of the megalomaniacs he served, did not pay much mind to weather or not their methods of acquiring information had hurt him.
Or those he cared for, Severus thought bitterly.
So he learned and he developed. Practiced and achieved. He would not boast about it, that would not do any good. But he knew he was the greatest expert in the field of mind magic. Legillimency or Occlumency, he was the best. No one knew how to build, erase or manipulate a mind like he did. And that is exactly why he could not forego the elemental parts of his mental reinforcements.

Severus knew - with his role in this war of light against the dark, he could not let any mistakes happen. One slip, and lives would most likely be lost. His own included.

As he descended through the empty corridors, Severus thought once more how he considered his mind a castle as well. A great and elaborate castle where he had locked all thoughts of the curly haired chit into a small, well secured chamber. One no one knew even existed.
Much like the Chamber of Secrets, it would be a space only he could enter by secret passages. No door in the hall would ever lead there. But much to his chagrin, the place where he hid his most intimate thoughts was light and warm like an everlasting golden light of September afternoon. It became a vast space during the previous years.
A memory of their encounter today would be like a beloved book, placed in there with great care. Waiting to be read and reread for numerous times.

Not for the first time Severus had to force himself to leave his secret mental haven. Pushing through, he found himself in a larger room, the one that looked like the Hogwarts library. It represented all things Hogwarts. There were endless shelves, lined with names of pupils, stacks of lesson plans, balancing atop one another. He had to insert and catalogue any new information as he gathered it - from the once more appointed Hogwarts professor Slughorn to his suspicions about Dumbledores schemes. The old man was well on the way to manipulate Potter into something that no one knew about and would only bring more trouble.

Then there was the information about warding Hermione’s home. Or the lack of it. Severus did not like one bit how everyone became evasive when he prodded about what is being done to protect the Grangers.
The easy conversation in the library gave him a good way to inch just a little more into her life. Those few moments were probably the first time in all the years he had known her, when they were actually alone. And Gods, he wanted more.

Severus ran a hand trough his raven black hair. He would write to her, explaining himself. Justifying his offer as directions from the top of the Order. Yes, that would kill two birds with one stone. Severus did not mind one bit if his offer would piss off the entire Order. They could all go to Hell for all he cared. He only needed to make sure she was safe.
He would write to Miss Granger. Tonight, because other ways it would only eat away at him.

As Severus entered his private quarters, he took out the piece of paper Hermione tore out of her notebook. It smelled of her perfume – jasmine and damask roses. Breathing in her gentle, sweet floral scent, he was back in the dingy library, reaching for that blasted book. Severus smirked as he remembered feeling her eyes on him. He marveled in it.
Gods, he was a miserable old pervert and should stop indulging in such thoughts.

Shame washed over him, but there were other feelings warring with it. So what, if he was besotted with the girl!? He was allowed to feel, was he not? It was human nature to watch a beautiful witch like Hermione blossom. Admire her from a safe distance. Crave to be close to her. Always just a little closer.

Severus did not fool himself, he would not survive another war. Spies always died in a war. Or soon after, since not winners nor losers wanted their secrets exposed. But he could create a corner in that sunlit secret chamber inside his mind. A corner for his reveries, where Severus hoped he could approach Hermione as a woman. He could make just a few more memories with her to keep him warm in the dead of winter.

He went to his desk and thinking of the curly haired witch, wrote her a letter.

After the meeting, Hermione went back to the Burrow, getting ready for bed. Crookshanks purred on the colorful quilt, blinking at her with his yellow eyes as she changed into a pair of soft cotton shorts and an oversized band shirt she once stole from her dad.
She was glad to spend a few days there with the boys. She was still a bit angry at them – they really knew how to spoil things for her. Barging into the library like two raging bulls and hurling insults. They had the nerve to squeeze her in between their smelly teenage bodies as they set on the wooden bench for the entire meeting. And just as if they knew she was anxious to get just one more glimpse of the dark Professor, they always sat so he was just out of her sight. Dunderheads indeed. Hermione felt disappointed when the time came to leave for the Burrow.

The Burrow was far more homey than the Grimmauld place, but Hermione missed some peace and quiet, which was scarce in the house filled with too many people. There was just too many noises. From small creaks of the floorboards, to the loud howls of wind blowing through a broken window in the attic. Not to mention Mollys endless clattering in the kitchen. Someone was always shouting over another.

She closed her eyes and returned to the library. She imagined how Professor Snapes – Sevruses - head would dip down, how he would hold her close with those strong hands and...would he kiss her softly? Or would it be like his usual demeanor suggested, hard and demanding?
For a fleeting moment, Hermione actually thought she saw a spark of genuine admiration, maybe even attraction on that stone like facade of a face. But my oh my, what a glorious face that was. All sharp angles. High cheekbones. That absurdly large nose of his, arching over sensuous lips. Black, long lidded eyes. His face was a study of contrasting, imposing features, that were captured in a balance so delicate, changing one small feature would shatter it.

She sighed softly. Now, Hermione could never go back to wondering about how Professor Snape was shaped under all those layers of black fabric. No, she knew now, how broad were his shoulders, how straight was his back, how narrow his hips. How his prominent veins popped out of the back of his hand as he gave her the book. How he faintly smelled of bergamot and spices.
She almost drifted off to dream about him, when she heard a soft sound of wings flapping. A magnificent black Great Horned Owl landed on her open window. It hooted gently, as if trying to wake her, apologizing.
Hermione extended her arm, and the beautiful bird approached. It was offering her a letter. Whoever sent it, was very careful. The letter was bound delicately to the birds left leg, and sealed with a dark green wax seal. A snake coiled in the form of Ouroborus. Hermione gently broke the seal and her heart soared.

With his elegant spiky cursive, Professor Snape wrote:

“Dear Miss Granger,

Cerberus is my personal owl, I have instructed him to wait for your reply. Do not ever trust a letter from me, or send your reply via any other owl.
This is about the safety issue of your parents house. I am outraged that no one from the Order had the common decency to ward it for you. Or teach you how to ward it properly yourself.
With Dumbledores permission, I took it upon myself to do both.

Read the book I have suggested earlier. Pages 248 to 576 are the most vital.
We shall meet the following Monday. I will come to collect you at the Burrow, from where we shall proceed to a place I deem appropriate for uninterrupted warding practice. With your casting skill set I expect it will not take us more then a few days. Perhaps it would be wise to arrange a meeting with your parents at the location of your home by the end of next week.

Since you are now an active member of the Order, I should remind you that friendship with Mr. Potter and your actions at the Department of Mysteries put you in a spotlight. The brighter the spotlight, the darker are its surrounding shadows. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of taking it upon yourself to learn any and all kinds of protective magic.

Please, confirm your cooperation as soon as possible.
I have a rather large stack of books someone has recommended, waiting to be read.

Severus Snape
Potions master,
professor of Defense against the Dark Arts"

Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands, her heart racing wildly. As if entranced by the spiky narrow letters, she did not need to think twice before she summoned her own quill to pen a reply.
Cerberus let her stroke his wings a few times before nipping gently at her finger. She watched as the big black owl disappeared into the clear night sky, thinking how the bird was just like his master.

That night, Hermione reread his letter at least a dozen times. Each time she read the opening lines, her heart went wild. Each time she read about his plan to teach her in private, her skin itched with anticipation. Each time she read about him meeting her parents to ensure their safety, a part of her melted. Each time Hermione read the closing lines, she laughed a little louder.

Snape woke on that Sunday morning, breathing deeply, hanging his head between his knees. He resolved to taking deep breaths until the worst of the nausea had passed.

Nightmares and anxiety attacks were still his regular companions. Madam Pomfrey told him of a condition he no doubt had acquired in his youth.
Fucking PTSD.
The nightmares were a constant remainder of all the shit Severus ever had to deal with.
The beating. The famine. The torture. The bullying. The loss.

But this time, his nightmare was different. This time, he dreamed of being too late. How for once, he was able to save someone he cared for, someone Hermione cared for. But he was too late because he was too stubborn to get closer to her. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, realizing he was on thin ice.
He could no longer fool himself over why he was so eager to find excuses to spend time around the pretty little witch. At the ripe age of thirty six, Severus Tobias Snape was - at last - falling in love. And he could feel himself running out of time.

He used to think he loved Lilly Evans, but realized as their teenage revolution took place, he misplaced romantic love with a kind of brotherly, familiar love. Lilly was his sister, in everything but blood. Probably the only person of his own age and culture he ever felt he could share himself with freely.
They were just two outcasts in a small working class town. When they shared their first kiss in that summer meadow a few weeks before going off to Hogwarts, they both knew curiosity got the better of them. That was all it was - making bridges over curiosity, self esteem issues. Even the general expectations that they should by all accounts be two teenagers in love. But it was not what either of them had felt that day, and they never spoke of it again.
Then Hogwarts happened, Lilly slowly drifted away on the current of Gryffindor bravado. The self proclaimed Marauders did not steal her away. She went willingly.
Looking back, Severus often wandered if they would have managed to reconnect in adulthood. But that chance was lost when war and death took it away.

Everyone that was ever connected to Severus in a personal sense, died.

When he was fifteen, his father died in a working accident. Something went wrong with one of the machines at the factory. It blew up. Simple. It was no great loss. Tobias Snape was an alcoholic narcissist with a very short temper and proclivity for violence towards everyone and everything. He left them with almost no money to go on by, a neglected row house and a horrible sense of relief.

Severuses mother Eileen died just a few weeks shy of his seventeenth birthday. Being abused all of her life, first by her pureblood parents, who wanted a male heir, then by the muggle husband who despised her for what she was - there was not much left of her to cling to life. After Tobiases death, Severus hoped she would get better. That last year, he remembered his mother painted like crazy. She hoarded books and food but she was too far gone. There was a silent illness spreading and no potion he could brew would cure her. He could only take some pain away, make the symptoms easier. She caught a cold in the early winter and it took her under in only a few days.

But it was not his parents loss that cost him most. It was not even Lillys death. No matter how much Severus hated James fucking Potter, he wished the young Potter family no ill will and was desperate to stop Voldemort from attacking them as soon as he learned that Pettigrew snitched on them. Despite general belief, Severus was not the one who told the Dark Lord about the prophecy, nor had he directed him to Potters home. He was working on entirely different matters at the time, and was already in contact with Dumbledore to switch sides.

No, it was Frank Winchesters death that turned the tides for him.
It happened no more than two months before the Potters were killed in Godrics Hollow. Frank was a retired military veteran, who lived just two houses down from the Snapes. He took Tobias on any time the bastard would start a public brawl, just to teach him a lesson. When Severus was just about to turn six, Frank realized he could defeat Tobias time and time again, but it would not deter him from getting drunk. Having bloodshot eyes and a broken nose did not stop the old bastard from hitting his wife and son on a whim.
Eileen was too shy and too proud to ever let anyone help her, but Frank did what he could for the boy.
He fed Severus when they had nothing to eat at home, he stitched and patched him together when Severus was all battered and bruised from his fathers fists. When he found him laying in the mud, bloodied up from his fathers belt and heavy work boots. Frank taught Severus how to ride a bike, patch the holes in a shirt, how to treat other people. He told him to treat his gift of magic with respect, to use his brain and power to create what others could only dream of.
He gave him tough love, yes, but the little boy needed a strong male figure to steer him clear of troubles. The old man loved him like a son he never had. And Severus loved him just the same.

Then, just around the time Severus was making funeral arrangements for his own mother and figuring out how to make ends meet at barely seventeen, Frank and him got in a massive row. They were known to have them on occasion. Frank always said how that was healthy, just like spring cleaning.
The old man did not like the people Severus was beginning to associate himself with. He said they were too proud, too prejudiced, too loud with false promises. He said Severus ought to know better. And in the act of teenage rebellion, fueled with grief, Severus joined their ranks despite his better judgment.

Death Eaters.
What a fucking mistake was that.
All Severus ever wanted was to feel like there was place for him in the wizarding society. He was smart and ambitious. And above all - he was done being bullied.
So what if the ideology Death Eaters represented repulsed him. It was just fancy words, anyway. Politics. Then, things got bad. Voldemort started to show his true madness, puppetg his minions viciously. Severus tried to stay back, to develop spells instead of getting his hands dirty, but the Dark Lord kept pushing. He knew just how to rile Severus up so he would end up doing whatever was expected of him.

Severus had not spoken to Frank in three months, when the car blew up in front of Franks house in Cokesworth. With Frank inside the vehicle. It was the second longest time they had not spoken.
Now, Frank was gone.
He left all his worldly possessions to Severus, including the motorcycle Severus still owned and drove. The box of vinyl records. The metal crate with old military equipment.
Severus was suspicious, because the informations he gathered at the police station did not add up in the slightest. The car Frank drove was indeed a proper oldtimer, but he upheld it meticulously. He was an engineer, and the car was spotless, able to keep going for years.
It took Severus a while to be able to stomach the truth, but he finally resolved to use legillimency on Lucius and few other Death Eaters. Voldemort did not want any muggle relatives or other relations within his ranks, so anyone who fell into that category was to be eliminated immediately. That was when Severus knew, he would find a way to undermine the Dark Lord. He would fight this madman for all it cost him.
And he did.
He was a death eater for three months. The rest of his years, Severus Snape was the spy.

It was a different approach to life. No real attachments. No strings, no standard relationships. It took all the discipline Frank instilled in him with his military upbringing, for Severus to form a functional personality that was his own. At times, it was the only thing to keep him grounded while he cloaked himself in all the lies and deceptions. His work demanded no ego, no personal preferences.

And now? All of that would turn around on him. Severus suddenly found himself craving a life of his own, with a woman he loved, a sense of freedom to not worry about tomorrow. A quiet life. A simple life, littered with little worries and little pleasures… But he was back in the mess. Another war was brewing. It was more important than ever for him to remain sharp in his role as a spy.

Because if Severus failed, Hermione, his brilliant muggleborn witch, would be the first to go. Not that she was...or ever will be. His, that is.

Pulling himself up, Severus resolved to his morning routine of work out and breakfast. He would not take calming potions. Instead, he would devise numerous approaches to how he could help prepare the pretty little Gryffindor and the rest of the dunderheads for what the war would bring. He would face his fears, instead of shying away from them.
After all, creating solutions to a problem no one seemed able to fix was his specialty.

Severus liked how his mind went blank when he counted repetitions on every exercise Frank ever taught him. The old mans raspy voice in his head, correcting his posture.
“You will grow big as a horse, boy, but if you do not stretch and build yourself some muscle, even wind will be able to break you like a twig.”
So he learned and realized he could use the exercising routine to help him with Occlumency as well. His black cotton pants hanging low on his hips, his torso slick with sweat, Severus emptied his mind.
He was pulling himself up a metal bar, counting to one hundred.
It was similar with brewing. Precise movements, patterns and a lot of repetition. Hauling cauldrons, carrying sensitive crates of jars with ingredients often required no magic policy. Severus did not mind the added manual labor, but he was non the less grateful for his tall build. For the strength he possessed. The endless hours spent on his feet would damage his back beyond repair had he not strengthened his body. His mind.

When Severus finished, his muscles were trembling, but his mindset was back in its proper place. He ate his breakfast at a dark varnished wooden table, and his mind returned to Hermione.
Severus was done pushing her out of his mind. Sometimes, certain feelings and thoughts were less distracting if he simply accepted them.

Resolved to drink tea in the blissful quiet, he stared at the stack of books Miss Granger had so boldly recommended. Severus was wrong, thinking no book would ease the sense of anticipation of what tomorrow would bring.
Tomorrow! A whole week with Hermione, all to himself.
Before he started reading, Severus was wired like a teenager before his first date. But he was thoroughly wrong for ever doubting Miss Grangers taste of books. For once the spine of the first book cracked open, he was gone in a minute.

Chapter Text

Hermione was trying to calm herself as she waited for Professor Snape to come and collect her. It was still morning, but she was up since six. She would lie to Ginny it was nerves, when actually, it was excitement.
She, Hermione Jean Granger, will spend unknown amount of time in the next few days getting private lessons from the man she fancied since she was fourteen.

Getting up, making the bed, meticulously brushing her teeth, washing her hair and styling them into loose french braid, applying just a touch of make up… All done. And it was not even seven yet. The man did not disclose any time of his arrival, so for all she knew, the Professor could already be walking up to the house, or could show up late in the evening, just as the sun was about to set. Hermione shed her sleepwear - a pair of gray cotton shorts and a loose band t-shirt that once belonged to her dad. It read Led Zeppelin, since it was one of his favorite bands. Folding it neatly, Hermione took out the outfit Ginny helped her pick the previous night. It was an off white tank top, paired with a short cut jeans overalls, and a cute crochet cardigan with little holes in the pattern. Then came the packing of her trusted brown leather messenger bag. She took the book Professor Snape gave her that day, and her trusted notepad. Thinking of where they might end up, she added some money, a bottle of water and sandwiches. On a whim, she took one of the muslin cloths she used to dry her hair. She could transfigure it into almost anything, should they need it. Gods, she wanted to be prepared. Shaking her head at the thoughts swirling in her mind, she chided herself. Not just prepared – she wanted to impress him.

Walking out of the Burrow, Hermione decided to take a walk, not far, just the perimeter of the anti-apparation wards. The sun was up, painting the surrounding fields and hedges in soft yellow. Closing her eyes she listened to the symphony of birds and breathed deeply.
It was so peaceful.
Just about the only peaceful part of the day, if she managed to get up early enough, when she could enjoy the quiet.
Then she heard a crack of apparition.

Severus saw her standing in the field of wildflowers, her eyes closed. She looked oh, so lovely.

Her honey colored curls wound together, exposing her long neck. She had a diamond shaped face with delicate features. Severus allowed his eyes to roam down over her freckled nose to her full and beautifully sculpted lips.
Up, he should look up, Severus chastised himself immediately. Up, before he thought about kissing her. Her cheekbones were high and elegant, her eyes still closed despite his presence. So innocent. So trusting despite his usual sour and brusque behavior. Severus felt a quiet pang of pain go off in his chest. For a short moment, he could not breathe. Then Miss Granger turned to him, a soft smile on her radiant face.

Gods help him. Gods. Help. Him.

“What was the first book on the list you gave me?”
“The bird nest of trouble. By S. Young” She replied quickly.
He stared for a moment, so mesmerised he almost did not reply.
“Did not clock you as an early bird, Miss Granger.”
He forgot to greet her. Fuck. Bloody Barons bollocks.
“No sir, I usually am not. But staying at the Burrow can prove to be quite challenging for someone who longs for peace. So early mornings, it is.”
Hermione’s smile started to fade as she saw Professor scowling at her, oblivious to his internal struggle.
Severus took a deep breath. This was fine. He can do this. Then he did something, he never did. At least not when people were around him. Just for a brief moment, he closed his eyes.

Hermione saw his face, his entire body relax as he took a deep breath. He looked at her, slowly opening his dark eyes, locking their gazes.
“It is peaceful here.” He cleared his throat.
“Do you have a way of notifying the sleeping weasels of your departure?”
Without a thought, Hermione summoned her DA coin and spelled it so it would only notify Ginny.
I am off to an early start. SYL.
She let it drop back into her bag.
Snape was looking at her in astonishment.
“Have you just sent a message by your coin? What is that - transfiguration and a protean charm, and probably at least, I don’t know, maybe five others, layered into a piece of goblin made gold?”
“It is a fake galleon, Sir. I took metal bottle caps and transfigured them, than layered in the seven spells you mentioned.”
“Well done.” Was all he could muster.
Bloody brilliant, is what he actually thought.
She beamed at him. It was going to be a long day, Severus said to himself as he offered Miss Granger an arm for side-along.

They landed on a deserted field. Grey stone wall marking a road nearby was overgrown with dark green ivy. Miss Granger tipped forward, would probably fall on her nose had he not caught her.
“What is the matter?” He said a bit too gruffly.
“I did not expect it to feel that way, that is all.” Her face was far from its usual colour.
“I had slight nausea every time I took the portkey. I hoped apparating would feel different.”
“Have you not side-alonged before?” Severus was astonished. He thought she would have some experience with that already. But what was done, was done. “Come, sit down.” He said sternly.
“Put your head down and breathe, deeply. The disorientation will pass.”
He kneeled down so he was closer to her eye level.
“Close your eyes, Miss Granger. Now each time you take a breath, locate a sense.” She did as she was told.
Inhale.
“The grass is soft.” Exhale.
Inhale.
“There must be a bees nest somewhere near, I can hear the buzz.” Exhale.
Inhale.
“Honeysuckle. I can smell it.” Exhale. She opened her eyes.
“The sky is blue.”
“Thank you, that really helped.” Miss Granger stood back up, looking deep into his eyes.
“Think nothing of it. “ he scowled in return, standing back up.
“Next time, we will take precautions. I did not think to check your previous experiences on the matter.”
Because he was too busy staring at her smiling lips. The soft skin of her exposed legs.
What a blithering idiot.

“Where are we going, exactly?” She asked, as they went on walking.
“There is a place nearby, a ruin of sorts, but it still counts as a property.“
He paused to look behind. Miss Granger obviously had a hard time keeping up with his long strides.
“It is perfect to train your warding.”
“Allrigt.” She fell back in step with him and kept quiet. They walked in companionable silence. Soon, they reached the little bridge that led over a wide creek. The ruin was just across it, standing partly in the shadows of a beautiful oak tree. She stopped for a moment, taking in the picturesque scene in front of them.
“Thank you for bringing me here, Professor. It is such a lovely place.” Hermione finally said, her heart in her throat.
Severus felt so overwhelmed by her words, her voice, her presence, he could only croak out a gruff “Well, we better get on with it.”

They dived into the warding.
Professor Snape was in full teaching mode. Talking, gesticulating, demonstrating. Answering a million questions and explaining about a hundred more, Hermione did not even think to ask. If her brain would not be in such overdrive to absorb all the information, she would melt in a puddle at his feet. It made her look forward to see him teach something other then Potions. There was something about his quiet authority. And it thrilled her to no end to be the first to see him like this.
But being alone with him, again – Hermione could not deny it. Professor Snape was so tall. So dark. So unusually handsome.
Sans his teaching robes, he looked closer to his actual age. From the occlumency mishap with Harry in their fifth year, she learned that he was the same age as his parents, so somewhere around thirty five. She knew most teenage girls might find that a bit old, but she regarded him as a man in his prime.
Standing ankle-deep in the unkempt summer meadow, Hermione secretly grazed her eyes all over the reclusive Professor.
His hair was raven black, but now that the summer air was hot and damp, it looked soft and wavy. He wore black trousers with a thick leather belt, black dragon hide boots, and a simple, washed out black linen shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the dark mark. While explaining something, he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, like it was the most normal thing in the world. She almost swallowed her tongue. Then, there was the harness. He wore a black leather holster for his wand. It emphasised the musculature of his wide shoulders.
Hermione knew she had a crush on him, she knew his general appearance attracted her abnormally. But this? She wanted to jump his bones right then and there.

Oblivious to Hermiones wandering mind, Severus decided they should take a break. Warding was an exhausting business. It was time they actually moved on to the part where Herm...Miss Granger had to actually start casting the warding enchantments.
He turned to see what she was doing, and saw her transfigure a simple piece of muslin cloth into a picnic mat, two bottle caps into goblets. Hermione poured fresh water from her bottle and offered him his cup. At a loss of words, he just nodded in thanks and drank deeply. She cast aguamenti to refill her bottle and bent over to take something out of her leather bag. Over the rim of his cup, Severus slid his gaze up her naked calves, her thighs, and took in the view of her heart shaped arse.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He had to think of something else, quickly, or else. He could already feel his cock stirring in his trousers. Gods, this is embarrassing. She was half his age for Merlins sake. Taking a deep breath, he tried to spell ten warding enchantments backwards. It worked. Severus carefully took a seat, keeping a slight distance.
Miss Granger offered him a sandwitch. She smiled shyly as he took it. Their fingertips brushed. Amused, Severus watched a pretty blush color her cheeks as she looked off into the distance. It seemed Hermione had no need for idle small talk. And it made him relax.

They ate in silence and Severus felt himself enjoying the domestic vibe of sharing a meal. It was sort of intimate, having a summer meadow picnic at some rustic rumbling remains of a cottage in the middle of nowhere. For a moment, he could almost imagine them being on a date. Severus got up when he finished, and as they cleaned up, he decided to speak up.
“Good thinking there, bringing food. We will need our strength for the practical exercise.”
Miss Granger seemed a bit dumbstruck at his words, and he could not help himself. He felt a crooked smile tug at his lips.
“Now, where do you start the warding?”
Hermione walked across the lawn to the farthest corner of the estate. He followed and stepped behind her.
“Very well. Take the stance.”
Hermione positioned herself, her legs apart for balance, her wand arm stretched ahead. Severus stepped closer behind her and slid his fingers around her elbow, pulled it a bit lower.
“Your stance is a bit stiff. “ he said in a quiet, low voice.
“Try relaxing your muscles. It will help with the fluidity of the motions.”
It took all his control not to put one of his arms around her waist. They were close enough he could hear her breathing speed up a little. But she did as she was told. He inclined his head further down
“Good.”
Good girl, his mind purred. He had to bite at his inner cheek to stop himself from saying it. A gentle breeze sent her fresh floral scent up his nostrils. She smelled of sun, rosemary and jasmine.
“Like this, professor?” She asked, as she waved her wand gently, in the complex runic motion he demonstrated earlier. It was almost perfect, but he used the small errors in her movement as an opening to lean in.
“Close enough.” he rumbled somewhere near her ear.
Without letting go of her arm, he slid his hand forward, brushing the exposed skin of her forearm. Closed his fingers around her delicate wrist.
There was a perverse joy in feeling her skin prickle.
“Try smaller motions first, than expand them a little with each repetition. Like...this.”
He guided her hand gently, waving her wand trough the air. Miss Granger was holding her breath.
Gods what if he was scaring her? He had not even thought to ask for permission to take her hand. They were alone. In the middle of nowhere. Miss Granger was basically at his mercy.
And he? He was, after all, a powerful wizard.
Severus let go of her abruptly.
“Go on.” He snapped out, annoyed at himself.
“You know the words.”

Hermione did not know what had gotten into him. First, the Professor was all relaxed and encouraging. Then he switched on the heat as his fingers slid sensuously over her forearm, caressing her skin with such precision. Hermione’s mind all but went blank from that single touch. Now all of a sudden, Professor Snape became all cold and distant.
In just a matter of minutes. Her head was spinning.
Deciding it was best to let it go, she pulled herself together. It took no small effort to concentrate on the complex magical task at hand, but somehow - she managed it. And excelled.

It was late in the afternoon when they decided to call it quits. Feeling herself exhausted from the sheer willpower, concentration and physical labour it took to ward a property, Hermione could just lie down and go to sleep. It was Professor Snape who offered her a cup of water and a bar of dark chocolate he procured from only Gods know where. He waited for her to finish and pack up without uttering a word. Than he took three long purposeful strides into her personal space, and held her by the elbows.
“Miss Granger,” he said seriously.
“It might be better this time around you stand...closer to me as we disapparate. Something about my personal gravity centre balancing out the scales as we move through the space/time dimensions, as far as I recall.”
She nodded, feeling flustered.
“May I hold on to you, then?” Hermione dared to glance up.
His dark eyes were searching her expression for reasons unknown. For the second time that day, Snape slid his fingers down her arms and put Hermione’s hands around his slim waist. She stood still, willing herself not to melt into him. Then, one arm still around her, Snape waved his black wand and called out in a deep voice.
“The Burrow!”

Chapter Text

Hermiones heart was racing like a herd of wild horses. The sensation of being pulled through a really narrow hose was long gone, but her head was still spinning. It was him . 

His scent was all around her now that those long arms were holding her so close. There was pure confidence in the way he stood next to her. No awkwardness, no hesitance. Only strength.

His body, his mind, his magic.

She could feel his steady heartbeat through the barrier of clothes. And just for a moment, Hermione wished it would beat for her. She opened her eyes and carefully slid her gaze higher - over his collar bone, his jawline, his lips. They were like a magnet, pulling her in, her curiosity insatiable. Hermione would not kiss him on a whim, no. That is where her infamous Gryffindor courage left her alone and trembling. But Merlin, a girl could dream.
She let her arms slowly fall to her sides as she took a step back. Was there just a hint of disappointment clinging to the way he set his jaw? It made her wonder about what he would say, if he was not so reluctant to speak his mind. 


They walked slowly towards the Burrow. It was the end of their second day together and Hermione felt like she finally caught a few glimpses of the man behind that stern professorial facade. 

“Did you manage to read any of the books I recommended?” she said at last, wishing to prolong the time before Professor Snape would leave.
“Indeed, I have read the first two.” he paused, furrowing his black eyebrows as if talking about books took more effort than the entire day of warding.
“I planned to stay up tonight and finish off the third, but I suppose some sleep might be better,” he added, though a bit reluctantly. 

Hermione blushed as her mind filled with images of Professor Snape, immersed in a good novel. Shirtless. In a big black bed. Sweet Circe, she hoped Professor could not read minds like some students claimed he could.
“Sleep does sound like a wiser choice.” She said at last, still too shy to meet his eyes.

“Although I often trade it for the books myself. I am truly glad you like them. It is such a shame no one else I know would be willing to read them.” 
Professor was silent for the next few steps, but Hermione sensed it was not because she would have said something wrong. She wondered, how was it that she could tell the shades of his silence.
This was a contemplative one. 


Her dark companion cleared his throat just as they reached the garden gate. It was dusk, and he looked like he belonged to the shadows that painted the surrounding land.
“They say one can live a thousand lifetimes through books. Travel to the places no man has ever seen.” His voice was silent, almost secretive. As if those words were meant for her and her alone. 

"I would be amenable to trade … reading suggestions, should you ever need any."
There was something deep hidden in those black eyes, as he said it. 

“Good night, Miss Granger.” 
Hermione barely managed to slip through the gate, her mind reeling from all the ways those few sentences had struck a cord. But when she turned to bid him farewell, Professor Snape was already gone.

Severus woke up with the first rays of sunshine that peeked through the murky waters of the Black lake. Was it really Thursday already? The days he had spent with Hermione flew by even faster than he had anticipated.

Vivid images of the curly witch filled his every waking thought. Severus did not lie to himself - he was studying Hermione Granger like he was about to take on another mastery. Carefully dissecting every smile, every look, every word she had uttered in his presence. Every touch - and oh, Salazar were there many. Brushing fingers as they walked, as they traded food. A random collision or two when she was practicing the complicated spell work. Severus always made sure to catch her when she stumbled. He tried not to linger for too long when they were pressed together this way or that. 
But Severus could no longer ignore how her warmth coursed through him every time he felt her near. Could not deny how perfectly she fit into his embrace as they disapparated.
Gods, who was he fooling.

Hermiones disorientation issues gave him the perfect excuse. Severus could not deny it, not even to himself - it made his day, to have the petite witch enveloped in his embrace just for those short few moments. So he could close his eyes and imagine there was another reason she clung to him, another reason why her fingers flexed on his hips as he felt her knees grow weak. 


Was she really that dizzy from side-along apparation? Or was she like him, finding excuses to linger? Severus thought how for two nights in a row, he had caught her staring at his lips, just moments after they landed. There was no way to be sure. No way that would not inevitably lead into trouble. Trouble and temptation. 

He could not - he would not kiss his student, for fucks sake.

As anticipation of seeing Hermione again drove him up and through his usual morning routines, Severus decided it would hurt no one if he gave Hermione a book of his own.
Hermione Granger loved books.
Every imbecile in the universe knew that much.

But they did not know, just how much she obviously craved to share that love with someone else. Trade, discuss, dissect. 
 Yesterday, she all but blew his ears off as they ate their lunch on another pretty picnic mat, giving him three different angles on the book they now had in common. A smirk tugged at his lips. For a moment, he almost forgot she was his student, not his date. 
Not that he ever dated. Not that he would ever, ever date anyone but her.
Deciding to bring lunch himself this time, Severus called for his personal elf to prepare a basket of food he could shrink to take with him. It was their last day at the cottage ruins and even knowing this was not a date, Severus had planned a few surprises just to make the pretty little witch smile.

Hermione was certain Professor Snape would only teach her the basics, but now it seemed he was willing to teach her everything he knew of the matter.
It was the last day before they warded her parents house. They were once again, walking up the dusty country road, when he announced in that smooth professorial voice, how they will try to add a few more complex enchantments to her – already sufficient - wards. The dark man next to her paused, looking at Hermione like he was evaluating her response. A new complexity? Hermione was thrilled. 

She watched with avid interest as he began explaining the theoretical side to these new enchantments and the more he explained, the more it was obvious this was a kind of magic she had not even read about, much less witness.

“Sir, how is it I have never come upon this kind of magic before, not even in the books?” she voiced her curiosity. 

“Is it not obvious?” he replied quietly and Hermione watched as a secretive smile spread over his sharp features.
Good God, was he captivating. 

“You will most certainly decide to batter me as to why, so I might as well just tell you.” 

Hermione had to stop herself from gaping. Was the man…playful?

A mischievous glint came into his eyes as he searched her face with scorching intensity. 

“They are my own spells, Miss Granger.”

Severus watched as Hermione learned his original warding spells and felt so proud. Not only had his first actual lessons of Defense against the dark arts proven to be successful – he gave in to the urge to push the little chit to her limits. Gods, even he had underestimated her abilities. It was easy to forget the sunny, soft Miss Granger had a viscious and stubborn streak to her character.

Hermione was capable of mastering most of the warding spells in the first two days. Severus knew he could just end it there. But then, he told himself, what good would that do? Hermione was not aiming to ward herself from nosy neighbors and unannounced visitors. The purpose of her warding should be to hold off even the most notorious of Death Eaters. So he tried to show her more.
Severus enjoyed the companionship they have built in a space of these few days. It had been years since he felt such ease to just be around another person. Besides, she truly was brilliant.

He broke his own rule for her – and it did not bother him one bit. He never shared any of his own spells with other wizards. In fact, he made it a point not to divulge too much of his magical prowess to the general audience.
Potions, yes. If one would have a mind to wander into the Ministries archives, they could discover a wast number of patents to his name. Poisons, antidotes, cures and day-to-day medicines. They brought him a pretty sum of galleons, which Severus hoarded like a possessive dragon.
He considered himself a man of intelligence. And it would not do for a man of his caliber to be poor and hungry, not if he could help it. Even before Severus came into the unexpected, yet not unwelcome inheritance of the Prince bloodline, he made good for himself. After all he had been through, Severus Snape would never again be a poor man.
But he would also make sure he would not be used or bullied. So he used which talents he could, while he hid away the others. At least no one would know who taught Miss Granger how to ward. His own spells could not incriminate him, if nobody else knew them.



“I would deem it wise to give your warding a trial run before we finish for the day.” He said after she seemed to manage the majority of original enchantments. That was something he kept thinking about. Severus wanted Hermione to gain the confidence in the strength of her own magic.
“You will take time to ward the cottage by yourself. I would proceed to attack them, to see how much they hold. Would you be amenable to such plans?«
Hermione almost squealed with delight. She schooled herself to reply with a little more dignity.
“Of course, Sir, I trust you that would be most productive.”
Hermione could not help herself not looking at him sideways, smiling widely. She already noticed he relaxed around her if she plucked up the courage to be her polite, yet unfiltered self.

They savored their last lunch picnic. A quiet spell was weaving its way around them, as they sat with a whole banquet of delicious food, passing plates and exchanging thoughts. None of them wanted it to end. Sitting down together in a shade of some old trees became somewhat natural, a creek humming quietly, the scent of honeysuckle sweetening the air.
Today, Hermione got up first, looking back at him over her shoulder.
“Sir, may I begin?” Her voice gave away just how nervous she was.
“I thought it would be wiser if I was to start before I drive myself crazy...you know, overthinking.”
Cocking a single black brow, he smirked.
“Very well, Miss Granger. You may proceed.”

Leaning back on the tree trunk, one leg folded for comfort, he sipped his drink.
 Today, she wore another snug pair of cropped jeans. There was colorful embroidery on the backside pockets - daisies and sunflowers, of course.The jeans were short enough to expose most of her legs, but still remain modest. Her milky calves were well rounded, yet firm from all the running up and down those blasted staircases back at Hogwarts. Her sage green muslin shirt was rolled at the sleeves, tucked in lightly. His smile grew as he remembered a moment earlier, when Hermione bent down to draw outlines of the warding perimeter. A slit in front of her shirt offered him a generous view of her breasts in a lacy, teal colored bra.

Gods he was a pervert. A sick old bastard, lusting after his innocent student.
But then again, Severus thought, trying to ease the shame, he was just a man. He probably won’t make it through the war, much less make Hermione his paramour. In a matter of less than two years, Severus Snape would be dead and no one would ever know how he felt about pretty miss Granger.

The sun had already dipped lower on the sky, lengthening the surrounding shadows, when Hermione finally finished her first solo attempt at warding. She felt exhausted, but bursting with pride. 

Professor Snape straightened, dusting off his black trousers. Most of the time she spent casting spells, he had his nose buried in a thick book. Or so it seemed. Because Hermione could swear she felt his dark eyes on her skin.

She went to drink some water and eat a muffin they had left over from lunch. Meanwhile, Severus circled the perimeter of her wards. He poked and prodded at the edges of her enchantments. Now that he was so immersed with examining her work, Hermione finally had the opportunity to observe him in peace. Today, the shirt was stone grey. The harness was still in its place, driving her wild. And his face, oh Gods. His face was a covered with a light stubble, dusting his sharp features with pretty shades of black. His complexion got a bit healthier during the summer. Even when Snape was all sweaty with the effort warding took out of him, he smelled nice. Bergamot and spices.
Hermione was not ashamed to admit she was actually looking forward to the side along apparition now that she was allowed to embrace his lean hips and enjoy the warmth of his strong body.

Professor walked closer to the point where she sat. 


" You did well. ” He said, sounding almost excited. Did he actually want to test her wards?
" I will try to attack the barrier at its weakest point, to show you how wards are supposed to react."
"But, I thought it would let you in without a fight, since you mean no harm?" 
That part confused her most.


Professor Snape did not answer. But the change she saw in him made her skin crawl.
One minute, he was this complicated, reclusive, but thoroughly good man. Then, there stood the dark wizard.
Severus Snape did not need a black cloak or an ornate mask to look like a proper Death Eater. It was something in his eyes, a sharpness to his jaw, as he roared and cast a series of offensive spells. They hit precisely at the previously marked weak spot.

Hermione expected her wards to simply shatter at such display of power. What she did not expect was to see her wards throw the force of the punch back into him.
Before she really knew what was happening, Hermione was in Professors way, breaking his fall. Their bodies collided with the force that knocked all wind out of them. Severus somehow managed to turn and wrap around her protectively, as they rolled on the grass.

First, he just hung his head low and tried not to wince at the chiming sound in his ears. He barely knew he was laying on top of Hermione, trying to muster enough air and willpower to get up. After a minute, Severus came to his senses and realized, he had a bigger problem. He tried not to think too hard of the fact they were wrapped around each other like lovers, her legs and arms clinging to him, her palms resting protectively against the back of his neck. His body was pressing down on her with full weight. Oddly enough, she was seemingly in no hurry to buck him off. Severus felt his heart race in time with her own. He slowly pulled up his gaze and stared into her whiskey colored eyes. She did not look away. Fuck, she was biting into her bottom lip – again. In a moment of weakness, Severus felt himself give in.

He was about to say fuck it all and kiss her. He could go through Hell knowing he had that one small taste of Heaven.

A twig broke with a loud crack just a few meters away from them. Severus got up abruptly, ready to face whatever danger awaited. And found himself face to face with a fox. The frightened animal scurried away and was gone in an instant.
Still a little lightheaded, he offered his hand to Hermione, pulling her back to her feet. Daring himself to look at her, Severus was surprised to see her expression riddled with worry and confusion.

Because he was an idiot, Severus thought they originated from sheer shock at the spectacle and worry of the consequences. Not for a second, did he think she might have decided to Hell with it, and kiss him that same moment he all but flew up.
"I - I am sorry, Sir. Are you alright?” Was there a trace of disappointment in her voice?
"Don’t fret miss Granger, I have been through much worse.” Severus wheezed out.
"I misjudged the force of your wards. As you can see, they will hold." Reaching into the picnic basket, he pulled out a butter beer and poured.

"Here is to our success." Offering her a cup, he went on.
"Tomorrow, we ward your home and can once again sleep peacefully."
Bloody Barons bollocks, why did he sound like that old sod Slughorn all of a sudden?!
"Thank you, Sir" Hermione replied, still looking a bit shaken. 


Not long after that, Severus and Hermione disapparated back to the vicinity of the Burrow, holding each other a little closer. Severus lied to himself he did it to make sure she was steady and did not experience any nausea. Hermione lied to herself it was only the gravity making her dizzy.
Just when they were about to start walking down the gravel path, they heard a voice. Rons voice, yelling with spite and frustration.

“I am telling you, Harry, it’s just not normal. She fusses with her hair and make up, going off with the bloody bastard for hours on end.”
Harry tried to calm him.

“Come on now, Ron, you know Snape is just tutoring her. Under Dumbledores orders!”

Growing frustrated, he went on.

“I don’t have half a heart to care for the Dursleys and yet Dumbledore protects them year after year. But Hermione loves her parents. What would you do if you were in ‘Miones shoes, Ron, honestly?”

“I would not whore myself to a fucking Death Eater, that’s for sure. Bloody stinking bat probably imperio-ed her anyway. Mark my words, Harry, her house will be under attack the minute Snape learns where it is!”

Before Severus could bank his own outrage at Rons harsh words, it was Hermione that flew forward.

“Ronald Weasley! You thickheaded, ignorant swine!” Before Ron knew what happened, Hermiones fist knocked his jaw so hard he fell back on his arse. Hermione pushed him down with one leg pressed to his heaving chest.

“You will apologize this instant! Do you hear me?!” Her voice shook with rage.

“You insulted me and you insulted Professor Snape!” She was almost growling.

“The man was nothing but a gentleman to me, helping me learn how to protect the ones no one else thought worth protecting. Not even you!" Panting, she straightened her shoulders and pushed her mass of curls off her face with a single smooth swipe of her forearm. To some, Hermione would look calm and composed, but her eyes flared with fire.

“I am not finished. What on Earth gives you the right to run your foul mouth, spewing such filthy accusations?! I thought I was your friend, you bloody bastard. Count yourself lucky I think too highly of my magic to have it prohibited because I hex you into next week!”
She searched Rons face for traces of genuine remorse and found none.
Fear? Yes.
Shame? Yes.
Regret? No.
"You will apologize. Right. Now." Her voice may have taken on a calmer note, but the low tone gave away her fury.

“S-s-sorry, ‘Mione.” Ron sputtered. The beetroot red of his face drained with each of her words, until he was deathly pale.
“Not to me, you blasted idiot. Apologize to professor Snape.”


If it was not for the hurt in her voice, Severus would rather enjoy the fiery display of her power. Hermione Granger was a witch that could make even a Death Eater wince. He should know. He was one.

Ron remained silent for a few moments, before he let out a sigh. Gaze fixed on the darkening sky, he spoke to no one in particular.
“I am sorry I slandered you.”
Hermione removed her foot and let him up. Then, just as the boy managed to straighten, she punched him again.
This time, it was a knock-out.
Harry and Snape looked at each other in astonishment, as Ron collapsed into a pile of limbs, blood smeared all over his face. Hermione started to cry.

Deciding taking care of his unconscious friend would be the easier job, Harry took Ron by his shoulders and began dragging him towards the Burrow.
Severus stood silently as he watched them leave. Then he went after Hermione. She was not hysterical, he noticed. Just heartbroken.
This time, when he stepped close, Severus sought no excuses to wrap his arms around her. This time, Severus did not fool himself over what he was doing. Resting his chin on the top of her head, Severus let her cry it out. It was no loud wailing. It was quiet shivering and an occasional tear, that slid down her cheeks and painted his shirt. Having no words of comfort to give her, he resolved to stand there and let her be.
Hermione eventually settled.


“I am so sorry, Sir. All you ever did was help me. You do not deserve the way they treat you. Any of them.”
Severus felt like the ground beneath him shifted. Here he thought she was crying out of frustration and sheer loneliness one feels at such confrontations. When Hermiones tears were actually for him.
“Think nothing of it. I have been treated much worse for doing much less.” His voice was soft and silent.

They stood there for a few more heartbeats, a quiet tension filling the air. Hermione slowly let go of him, sighing deeply. 
Severus felt his heart ache at the sight of hope in her eyes as she locked them with his.
“Will I see you then, Sir? Tomorrow?”
“Yes, miss Granger. Tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Screams.
So many screams were echoing inside his head, it sometimes made him want to lose his mind. At least then he could scream right along with them.
It was in the darkest hour of the night when Severus laid in his black fourposter, staring at the vaulted ceiling. Anxiety tore at his chest as if it were a feral beast, hungry not for his flesh but for his suffering. His eyes open or closed, it mattered not. The images of the last thirty-six hours were etched into his brain. He could not – would not – escape them.

The grimace of pain marring Dracos aristocratic features as he took the dark mark was just one more in the line of many that would now haunt Severuses mind. There on his Godsons face was a certain loss of innocence, one that came with taking on too much too soon. Severus knew it intimately. That and how it is to live knowing, he will never be free of the constant reminder that he had been forced to make the greatest mistake of his life.
Severus knew, in that moment, he had once again been right. The boy did not possess the darkness inside him, nor that black-hearted kind of prejudice that would indeed inevitably condemn his very soul.
No, Draco was a good young man. Even without Bellatrix pushing him to take the unbreakable vow, Severus would have watched over his Godson.

Flexing his right hand, he could feel the new tightness on his skin, reminding him of the vow. It was like a never ending itch, created to slowly drive him mad.

Severus let out a mirthless laugh. He did not need the incessant scratch of the vow to crack. The feel of Hermiones lips, pressed to the corner of his own was enough to make him unravel.
That kiss.
It changed everything.

Severus spent hours reliving it. It was the best fucking thing that had ever scarred him. Because it had. There was a mark in the corner of his lips now, one only he could feel, turning the taciturn wizard into an obsessed madman.
Obsessed to the point where he spent countless minutes looking at every move Hermione made in his presence this past week, from a different point of view.

First, he took on the outlook of pity. But her actions and character did not support that theory.
Second, he took on the outlook of misplaced gratitude. It was far more likely, but still not a perfect fit.
None of the possible outlooks fit the description of how she behaved that entire week in his presence. Until he, hesitant and frightened, took on the perspective of Hermione Granger already being fond of him.
Had he – dark and secretive, demanding and stern, already won her favor just as he was? It seemed highly unlikely, but ...
Severus realized he never, not once during those days, considered her behavior might have stemmed from affection. Not once had he allowed himself to consider the little chit actually saw him.
And liked what she saw.
But she did.

Because why else would she look at him with those big, trusting eyes and lean in, risking to splinch herself in the process, only to touch him?
Why else would she wish for him to stay safe?
That was not something one said on random.

The question remained, on what would come of that. Severus felt his own selfish desires waging war with all the responsibilities his current roles as a spy and as a professor demanded of him.
He should not indulge himself in a thought of a relationship. Of courtship. Not when he had innocent lives in his hands.
Dumbledore gave him less then a year to teach the entire school how to fight and protect.
Voldemort gave him less then a year to overthrow current Headmaster, among other things.
Draco was tasked to become an assassin, even though the boy could not hurt a fly.
But Severus?
All he could think about was finding a hundred different ways to get Hermione into his arms. His bed. His life.
With a flick of his fingers, the fire in the hearth stirred and Severus walked to endless bookshelves, that lined the walls of his private chambers. Feeling reckless, he began stacking a selection of books of all shapes, sizes and content into a pile.
Hermione started all of this with a book list.
Now Severus would give her one of his own.

Hermione sat alone on the train back to Hogwarts. The first day of September painted the Scottish landscape into vivid golden hues, punctuated with blueish shadows and misty tendrils. Now that she was almost of age, her parents did not insist on seeing Hermione off, and rather gave her the space and security to figure things out on her own.
She smiled, thinking of the conversation they had the other day. Her mother was truly very observant and Hermione hoped dearly she would one day acquire that skill in the same measure.
When Hermione got home from the park, her mother waited for her with a cup of tea.
“Well Hermione, I believe that man is the definition of tall, dark and handsome.”
Jean looked at her with twinkling eyes.
“Oh, mum!” Hermione chuckled.
“He is all that. He is also brilliant, reclusive and complicated.”
“And you love him.” Her mothers expression grew soft.
“Very much. This week with him, mum, it was unlike anything I have ever imagined. He - he is everything.” Emotions overwhelmed her, so Hermione let her mother hold her, as tears trickled down her cheeks.
When Hermione was in her fourth year, Jean noticed a change in her daughter. It did not take much to learn the name of the ailment. It was love.
When Hermione went to the Yule ball, Jean was certain the Romanian quidditch star was the one her daughter had set her eyes on.
Months later Hermione confessed. Krum was nice, and they dated for a short while. They kept it hidden because of the tournament, stole a few kisses here and there, and just enjoyed each others company. When it was time to say goodbye, they decided to remain friends and write to each other regularly. They kept the friendship going, but Hermione was never heartbroken over him.
No, Hermione said her tall, dark and handsome wizard remained where he always was - at Hogwarts.
Jean sometimes worried, because her daughter refused to name the one she longed after. But as long as she kept talking about him, Jean remained calm. She was just happy it was not Ron or Harry. The boys were alright - but far from what her daughter needed in a partner. The secrecy got Jean considering her daughter had, just like herself, fallen for someone out of reach. Someone older.
Then, Hermione mentioned Professor Snape helped her cure the curse that horrible Dolohov had hit her with when they fought at the Department of Mysteries. And in Jeans mind, something clicked. It clicked again, when Hermione beamed at the information that said Professor would attend the meeting at the Grimmaulds place. Jean insisted Hermione wore her pretty vintage burgundy dress and some make up. A day later, she was rewarded with a phone call from her euphoric daughter - the tall dark and handsome - professor, was taking time to work with her on some protective enchantments.

Now that she met the stern Professor - Jean saw exactly what her daughter fell for. The reclusive Severus Snape was a rare gem of a man, that much was obvious.
An acquired taste, maybe, but still a perfect fit for her daughter.
“Oh Gods, what am I going to do?” Hermione sighed after she pulled away.
“You, my lovely girl, will continue to be true to who you are. You are going to go on being bright and loving.” Jeans voice was warm, but firm.
“Let the fates work their magic. You are such a bright light, honeypot, and that poor man - he needs some brightness in his life.”
That night, Hermione went to bed in her childhood home. Her eyes closed, she slowly reached out and sensed his protective magic humming around the house. The memories of the past days spent with her beloved Professor were reeling under her closed eyelids and at last, lulled her to sleep.

Sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts express, Hermione worried. She was about to seem him again. The lack of any communication from one Severus Snape made Hermione worry she might have upset him with her frivolous behaviour.
Sighing, she simply hoped all those times she caught Professor staring at her lips were a result of honest interest.

Severus waited for her to arrive back to the school. He stood in the shadows of one large tower window, watching the students swarm all over the grounds like ants. They were everywhere. He felt the panic rising in him, when almost all the students had passed. Where the bloody hell was she?
Then Severus saw Miss Granger, striding towards the school, alone. She looked upset. Her honey hair were a wild halo around her beautiful face, her pale skin just a little more golden. Could it be she caught some sun while she spent the days with him?
Severus felt almost like a predator, lurking in the shadows, while his prey was none the wiser. Then she stopped abruptly. Lifting her eyes, Hermione looked straight at him and smiled brightly.

Hermione thought it weird to be back at school. Things between her and the boys were still a bit sour. They talked some, but their apologies felt forced. Harry, she knew, was pushed to apologize by Ginny. Hermione loved the redhead harpy, but Harry was old enough to know better. If he did not feel like apologizing, faking it only made things worse.
Ron was still being a stubborn ass. His letter of apology came a day later than Harry's and infuriated Hermione to a point she crackled with uncontrolled magic. That didn't happen since she was ten. No need to say she incendioed the blasted letter on the spot and decided she was better off, focusing on her lessons.
There was another underlying source of tension between them. She was the only one of the trio, that had been rewarded with a prefects badge. It burned Ronalds pride immensely. Harry did not pay it any mind, but Ron seemed to think Harry could at least try to influence Dumbledore to change it. For the first time, Hermione thought better than to open her mouth and speak her mind. She distanced herself deliberately.
At the Feast, Hermione sat alone, not caring much for the open stares everyone sent her way. Ginny sat down a little to her left, creating an effective buffer between Hermione and the boys, but people still noticed. Then the skin on the back of her neck prickled.
It was him.
Hermione took a deep breath and looked at Professor Snape. His black gaze did
not seem scalding or...mad. Instead, Hermione could swear she saw him tilt his
head just slightly, a beginning of a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He was greeting her – in his own, secretive way.
Hermione felt her heart lurch into a stampede, a pink blush settle on her cheeks.
She did not look away, but gave him her own, small smile in return.
If that was anything to go by, Hermione thought, this school year might not be as miserable as she feared.

Falling back into routine of running around the castle was easy. Get up, get
dressed, go to the Great hall. Eat, read, take lessons. After lunch, it would be the
library, or the lake side, if it was sunny enough. Then it was dinner and back to
the library or the common room. Shower. Sleep. Repeat.
In a blink of an eye, it was Friday afternoon, the end of their first week back at
Hogwarts. Hermione felt exhausted, as she only got herself to blame. Even if she
spent time with Ginny or Luna, it did not lessen the pressure she felt from being
at odds with the boys. This was their longest spat since the fourth year and she
was feeling insecure.
Was there something wrong with her? How come she always ended up alone and
without someone to be at her back and call when things got sour?
Hermione had been honest. She had been loyal. She risked her own damn life time
and time again. For them.
And yet, until they needed her to pull the rabbit out f the hat, Harry and Ron
always made her feel like the odd one out.Well, not anymore. This time around, if
boys wanted her friendship, they would have to make some serious amends.
Because Hermione Granger began to understand the luxury of being content by
herself and she would not trade it to play the fifth wheel ever again.

The evening air was radiant from the setting sun, but the air grew chiller and
Hermione wrapped herself in her school robes. She climbed the stairs to the
Astronomy tower. They were called to Dumbledores office for a prefects meeting.
Hermione’s heart soared with hope: all Heads of Houses were to attend.
Professor Snape would be there.

Severus was at odds with himself. A part of him was raging with excitement to be
near Hermione. Soon, he would have to teach her on Mondays, and did not know
how to deal with the fact he was no longer interested in being her Professor.
Another part kept convincing him it was wrong, all of it. The way he felt about
her, it could not lead anywhere. So he better stay away. She would not do it
intentionally, no, but he would end up hurting just the same.
But he made that book list for her, knowing well enough she could not find any of
the books outside his personal library. It was burning a hole in his left side breast
pocket, making him even more irritated.
When he sat in the chair beside Headmaster, his surly stone mask firmly in place,
no one could see the war that raged internally. Hermione entered, searching for
an empty seat. Her eyes roamed around the room like she was looking for
someone. Severus wondered, just who was she looking for. Until she noticed him.
Their eyes locked in yet another of their stare downs. She did not blink, neither
did he.
Then, she curved a corner of her lips. A ghost of a smile. He quirked his eyebrow
and tilted his head. Hermione found a seat just opposite him, her whiskey eyes
never leaving his. Severus wished and not for the first time, that he could enter
her mind, skim over her thoughts. He was left to absorb the warmth that filled
her eyes. It was oddly like a game of chess, this non-verbal exchange of
expressions. He felt the stone mask melt, and smirked at her. Severus was
convinced no one saw their exchange, but could not bring himself to care.
Because when he smirked, Hermiones face beamed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to have you here for our first prefects
meeting. The agenda of todays evening is going over the patrolling schedules,
general duties of a prefect and possible situations in which you are to address any
present Head of House. I repeat - should you need help in a situation, one does
not need to look for the head of their own house, but any Head of house that is
available. The resulting approach to the situation may of course, be different,
however...” his mild voice rambled on.
Hermione was only paying him half a mind. All Dumbledore was saying, she had
already read up on, or got from Percy. She only felt relieved it was Neville who
was made prefect with her. It was less stressful to share such responsibility with
someone of his general character. Even as Hermione took a mindless note here
and there, she felt Professors dark eyes on her.
The way he looks at her seems almost like he was hypnotized. To some it might
not be obvious, but Hermione knew him better. It was unlike him not to be paying
any attention to the meeting, but when Dumbledore asked a question about the
patrol rounds, Snape replied without missing a beat. They managed to assign
general roles and shifts quite easily, no arguments or squabbles on either side.“Now I can gladly say the meeting is adjourned. You may leave.” Dumbledore
stated giddily.
“Oh, miss Granger, not you. A word, if you mind.” Dumbledore noticed Neville
started to drag his heels immediately.
“Mister Longbottom, you can wait for Hermione in your common room.” He said
airily.
Neville jerked his head in ascent and left quickly.
“So, miss Granger. Professor Snape here tells me you have not only mastered the
basic warding, but proceeded to match his warding skills in just a matter of days.”
Dumbledores eyes were glinting with humor.
“I believe aiming for anything less would be quite out of character, don’t you
think?” She replied humorously.
The old headmaster burst into laughter. Snape now stood at a window looking out.
Since miss Granger could not see him do it, he allowed himself to chuckle at her
reply.
“I must apologize Miss Granger, for not thinking of your parents safety. When one
lives in the wizarding world for so many years, well, he tends to forget about
something so mundane.”
Snape turned to look at the headmaster now, gaze intense.
“There. Is. Nothing. Mundane. About. Warding. Muggles.” He bites out angrily.
He could barely control the temper that burst out to rage inside him. It was not
just miss Granger, it was the loss of countless nameless people they have already
failed to protect because of such nonsense.
“Professor Snape is of course, correct. Now, Miss Granger, since you are coming of
age in just over two weeks, that will mean different rules will apply to you.”
Headmasters silver gaze was stern.
“I have no concern over your ability to respect the gift of freedom your magical
maturity will bestow upon you.” Dumbledores voice grew serious.
“However, the dangers outside persist. I must tell you to use your permission to
leave Hogwarts in your spare time with caution.” He fell silent for a moment.
Intentionally letting the tension in the air slowly dissipate.
“There is another thing I want you to think about. You are already top of your
class, Miss Granger, and the warding course you just went through confirmed I
am correct to offer you this next advice; take time to think about what is required
for NEWT exams. Talk it through with your Professors. “ he paused, as if relishing
on the general shock. Severus stood closer to Hermione now, so it was easy for
the Headmaster to look from one to another.
“If you are willing to put in some effort, I believe you could sit on the exams in
the following May. There is no use for you to waste any more time at Hogwarts,
then necessary.”
Hermione gaped at him. Did the headmaster just order her to take the NEWTS a
year early? To double her studies?“Sir, may I think on it? It sounds... It sounds great but, I would need to revise the
study materials for the seventh year as well, to see whether I can actually manage
it on my own.” Hermione felt overwhelmed.
She needed to leave.
Severus spoke slowly.
“Perhaps it would be wise, headmaster, if Miss Granger gets rewarded with some
support from the staff.” His deep voice drawled.
“I do believe none of the Professors would mind terribly to tutor her in the
spring. Should miss Granger require it of course.” He added quickly.
Obviously thinking out loud, he continued.
“In the mean time, it would not be unwise if she learned some more practical
skills, than the ones we teach in classes.” Dumbledore listened curiously, and
nodded.
“Go on, Severus.” Professor continued seriously.
“I believe it would be wise for miss Granger to learn how to heal, with madam
Pomfrey.” He dared to look at Hermione.
She looked positively dumbstruck.
“A-are you sure? Could I do that?” She was stuttering.
“I - I really planned to just read up on it, I suppose. But I would love to - yes. Yes, I
would love to have an opportunity to practice healing, if possible.”
Dumbledores eyes were filled with mysteries, as he glanced from Professor Snape to
Hermione, and back. They were still fixed on Severuses face, when he dismissed
her cheerfully. There must have been something he saw in Professors expression
that made him very happy.
“Very well, miss Granger. Look for my owl. That would be all.”
The room fell silent once more, as Professor Snape and Dumbledore stared at each other.
When the door shut itself behind Miss Granger, Dumbledore spoke first.
“Is there something you wish to tell me, Severus?”
“She needs to learn. How to fight. How to heal. You bloody well know she will
need a proper skill set to pull through the war.” Severus’s eyes were dead serious.
“Yes, yes indeed. She might be the key to Harrys survival, after I am gone. She is
brave and brilliant. Rather like you, I think.” Dumbledore was looking at him
quizzically.
“She. Is. Nothing. Like. Me.” Severus spat.
“You deny than, the range of her intelligence and magical prowess?”
“I had NOTHING left to lose!” Severus burst out shouting.
“When I was her age, I was alone!” He shook with rage now.
“She has so much light in her. She has a family. A loving one at that. And you are
treating her like a fucking pawn!” The veins in his neck popped out, but he could
not stop himself.
“We should be protecting her, not training her for battle.”“But the battle is nevertheless coming, my boy. What better way to protect her, if
not to teach her how to fight?” Dumbledore remained calm. Too calm.
“I believe you would gladly send us all far away until the harm had passed. I know
you, Severus. You would risk your life in a heartbeat, if it meant peace would be
restored, no one harmed. But there are greater things at play.”
“I already risk my life daily, in the name of peace!” Severus tried to refrain from
shouting.
“What I don’t like is sending children to wage a war for us!”
Dumbledore stared at him meaningfully.
“Do you really still see Hermione as a child, Severus?”
Severus went very silent.
“Go to Hell!” He barked out, and left.

Dumbledore turned to the cat that appeared to nap in the far corner of the room.
Of course, professor McGonnagall heard every word of the argument, loud and
clear. Stretching her elegant feline form, she aimed to jump on the sofa. And
transfigured.
“What on Earth are you playing at, Albus?” She asked.
“Can you honestly say you have not noticed the change in the way they are
around each other?” Dumbledore sounded surprised.
“There is something, yes. I cannot put my finger on it. What mischief are you up
to this time?” Minerva was loosing her patience with the old man. She was used
to his scheming, but did not always approve. The fact that it now seemed to
involve two of her favorite people, worried her deeply.
“I underestimated their fondness of one another. Minerva, I must ask you to keep
this a secret.”
“Who do you take me for, Albus?” Minerva stared back in outrage.
“Severus and Hermione are soulmates.” Dumbledore spoke quietly now.
“As she becomes of age, the bond will likely ignite and force them to pursue... a
more personal relationship.” He looked down at his hands, fingers black from the
curse that was slowly spreading.
“Are you sure? That is.. but.. how? She is still a student!” Minerva looked
positively astonished. A beat of silence passed, before Dumbledore raised his
finger and pensive flew onto the desk. He pulled a silver thread of thought and let
it dissolve into the swirling water. Tapping his white wand to the rim, a small
figure of professor Trelawney appeared on the surface, her voice growing deep.

“The Dark Lords spy shall share his soul, with witch most brilliant of them all. As Dark
Lord falls to his demise, the bond is there to save a life. When darkness fails in one last
fight, no one but her can bring him light.”

Minerva sighed as the memory faded and looked at the Headmaster.
“Minnie, they are in love.” He ran his hand over his face.
“Too foolish or too stubborn to admit to it. I misjudged them. Both of them. “ he
paused for a beat, than let the frustration pour out as he continued.“And here I was, thinking it would do them good to spend a few days together.
Maybe a sense of ease with each other would help them overcome the initial
awkwardness when becoming soul bonded. What an utter fool I have been.”
Dumbledore shook his head dismissively.
“They will need all the help they can get from us, Albus.” Minerva’s voice was
solemn.
“It will be hard enough on them as it is, marrying and keeping it a secret.
Practically anyone who learns of this union would sentence them to death.”
“I must confess, Minnie, I am happy Severus finally found her. He needs love in
his life to pull him through what the war will bring. He has resolved himself to die
in this war. I cannot let that happen after everything he suffered.”
“I know. It does not mean I will not worry. He is like a son to me, Albus.”
Dumbledore could all but see the lists of arrangements, pros and cons going off in
Minervas head.
“I want to attend the wedding.” Minerva looked at him sternly.
That made Albus chuckle.
“Minnie, you know as well as I do, the soulmates bond can be completed just by
consummating.”
Minerva looked far from amused.
“And you, old man, should trust Severus to know better. He is a gentleman! He
will court her properly and demand a ceremony before any such... khm,
activities.”
The elderly pair stared at each other for a long beat.
“What a way to start the new school year.” She said at last.
And they laughed.

Hermione was just about to take a shortcut to the Gryffindor tower she once discovered over the third floor, when she heard one set of heavy footsteps approaching.
A swish of long robes informed Hermione just who was about to reach her.
She stopped and spun on her heel, as one Professor Snape came to an abrupt halt just a couple of steps away.
"Miss Granger." he greeted her, and she smiled.
"Professor." Hermione felt her heart beat so fast it was a small wonder it did not echo from the stone walls of the hallway.
He took another step closer, his black eyes searching her face intensely.
"Will you take on the challenges the Headmaster had so kindly suggested?"
Hermione noticed how the the last words were spoken acidly, but not because of her.
She took a half a step forward, tilting her head up.
"You know me, Professor. I like a challenge."
A playful smile bloomed on her cheeks. Her words had a double meaning, and it seemed Professor had caught it swiftly.
Raising a brow imperiously, the man chuckled as he reached inside his cloak.
Hermione found herself missing they grey shirts and the harness he wore just a few days prior.
Had it really been only a few days? Gods, it seemed like months.
Suddenly, Professor was reaching for her hand, his black eyes never leaving hers as their fingers touched.
He pressed a piece of paper in her hand, held it for a moment. Brushed his thumb over her knuckles, sending little shocks of pleasure up her arm.
His voice was soft and deep as he spoke.
"I believe turnabout is a fair play, Miss Granger."

Chapter Text

Hermione sat on the window ledge in the girls dormitory. There were at least a dozen letters scattered over the little space, all of them with negative replies. Her beloved notebook was filled with color coded charts and beside it, there laid the infamous book list.
The book list she had spent the entire week pursuing only to realize Professor Snape sent her chasing after a selection of really compelling reading material that was completely unattainable. Hermione huffed so loudly she woke the orange cat, quietly purring in her lap.
Crookshanks blinked at her once, twice, then leaped off to sleep on the bed instead. As Hermione read the list in Severus's spiky lettering, she realized maybe this note held more meaning then she first believed. Severus Snape was the Head of Slytherin, after all. And Slytherins were well renown for their notorious use of double meaning, manipulation and resourcefulness. Hermione perused the list like a true Gryffindor, when she should have been looking at it through the eyes of a Slytherin.

Turning to a blank page in the notebook, she wrote down her new assumptions.

The books were rare editions of written word on a wast array of subjects.
Something rare, versatile and precious.
The books were at least temporarily unattainable to her.
Something to look forward to, something to long after.
The books would open a new world of knowledge and experience to her, if she pursued them.
Something she could pursue that would inevitably bring change.
The books that he alone might have in his possession and might be willing to share with Hermione.
Something to have in common, something he cared about and protected, something only he could offer.
The books required Hermione to initiate more one-on-one time with the dark Professor, should she wish to pursue her search of their existence.
Something to bring her to him, if she so desired.

Hermione huffed in astonishment. Severus bloody Snape might have given her a book list, but what he actually wrote was a love letter.

This past week had been eventful, to say the least, Hermione thought as she glanced back on the days now behind her. On Monday the sixth years had their first Defense lesson with Professor Snape. It might have been a bit unusual to see him teach some place else than in the dungeons, but the man was as stern and authoritative as always. And of course, as luck would have it, McLaggen decided this was the best opportunity to test his charm on Hermione.

She did not like McLaggen one bit. He was a sleazy, slimy bog of mischief. Gods, how Hermione hated his weird doodled notes the git tried to pass to her in class. They only distracted her and made her fear she would get into trouble. Why on Earth did he think their first lesson with Professor Snape was the proper time to make a deliberate move, Hermione could not fathom.
She was hoping, truth be told, that maybe, if she was left without a partner for dueling practice, the stern Professor would duel with her. Shame washed over her.
Teachers pet indeed.
She had never before been so bold or so eager to seek his attention as she was now.

But McLaggen had his own plans put in motion and before she knew it, Cormac was tugging at her elbow, announcing how he will gladly duel Miss Prefect.
Gods, she hated when people called her names, even if they were not straight out offensive. What she did not see in the midst of all the conundrum, was how the dark Professor narrowed his eyes at the blonde boy.
Hermione felt no shame when she executed her vengeance. McLaggen volunteered, indeed, but he did not know what he was in for. When Professor Snape commanded they demonstrate what spells they used for dueling in the past, it was Hermione that pulled McLaggen forward.
Demonstrate her ass.
She mercilessly used McLaggen as a guinea pig as she showed off what they achieved in the previous years. Hermione might have given the boy a heads up before she began casting, but he did not have her reflexes. One minute, he was levitating, next, he was petrified. She continued with some fun hexes until finally, she used incarcerous to bind him. The bastard had the audacity to look at her with eyes full of lust.
“I will let you practice this on me anytime, sweetheart.” He drawled, insinuating foul things. Hermione shivered in disgust. Of course, Professor Snape caught his remark.
“McLaggen!” He bellowed.
“There will be no room for inappropriate behavior in this classroom. One scroll on how to properly evade binding charms, on my desk by tomorrow.”
Hermione tried to hide her smirk, as she caught his black eyes for a moment. There was something hard in them. To most, his face would not reveal anything.
To Hermione, it was almost like an open book. She could just as well hear him think, what a bloody idiot was the boy.

But there was one thing Severus still managed to hide. Hide well, because little did she know how deep inside, the wizard was raging with jealousy.
That little prick dared to talk her up in the middle of his class. Miss Granger was doing so good with her offensive spells, until the slimy sleazy git ruined it all with his senseless comments. It was nothing but that, Severus told himself. He was purely concerned about her academic progress. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact he almost felt himself fall in love all over again, as she preformed her vengeful casting so flawlessly.

Severus never liked Cormac McLaggen. Even less now that the boy seemed to have a crush on pretty Miss Granger. Of course, Severus knew he had no rightful claim to the little witch. But he would not tolerate insufferable spoiled prats sniffing around her, not if he could help it.
Severus would not admit it to anyone but himself he covertly observed how others treated her in the hallway. In the Great hall. Miss Granger really became a bit reclusive since summer. She conversed with her housemates still, but other ways kept to herself. One would no longer see Hermione's curly head tucked on Ron's shoulder or reading something to Harry. Now that Hermione was no longer just a bookworm friend, who is always willing to save the day, things obviously grew harder for her.
Some of the boys were, similar to McLaggen, sporting a crush on her. Severus even caught Draco staring at her ass when she reached for a book in the library. Oddly enough, his mind kept circling back to that shy little kiss and he was once again at peace, for she seemed not to pay any of the boys any mind.
Not the way she did to him, anyway.
Severus wondered how long it would take for the pretty swot to decipher his book list. Will she seek him out, ask for the books? Would she find her own way to reply?

Two days passed, lessons piling one atop of another. Hermione was glad she could bury herself in research and homework. In the following week she would begin her unofficial apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. Ron was mad at her, because she did not wish to help him confound McLaggen in order to gain the upper hand at quidditch tryouts. McLaggen was doing great, defending the hoops and playing up his skills, until he glanced at Hermione. He obviously wanted to impress her with some dangerous move. Failing miserably, he ended up slamming himself into one of the hoops. Hermione would laugh if she had not felt a bit of perverse satisfaction.
With the extra study load for NEWTs, she had so much work, Severus rarely saw her outside of the library. He saw her meticulously search through the school library and wondered, if she was still hunting for the books he had recommended, or was it something else that caught her interest. It was a long shot she would understand what he meant to tell her with that list. Not because of her intelligence, no, but because it was just that – a book list.

Severus glanced on his Grandfathers clock. It was Sunday now, more then a week had almost passed since their talk in the hallway and there was no sign she was still interested.
Well, if he did not count how Hermione's eyes lit up every time he sat down at the high table. How she seemed to stop and smile at him every time they crossed paths. Sometimes, Miss Granger bit her lip, as if trying to prevent herself from saying something.

Gods, even if she did? Severus ran a hand trough his raven hair in frustration. It is not like he had a plan. That cryptic book list was written on an impulse. Something Severus never, never did.

Miss Granger was the one to decide, he thought. It mattered not what happened to him in the process. He was a dead man, anyway. Sensing he would not meet his hangman for another year or two, perhaps he could at least indulge himself in the fantasy of having something real in his life. Something that was entirely his own.
Hermione may choose never to belong to him, but he could still watch over her. Spend time with her. Take care none of the boys got too smitten. Too aggressive. Yes, that would be wise.

Keeping an eye on her, protecting her...perhaps it would bloom into a sort of companionship. Even if she liked him as a man, Severus convinced himself it would probably be unwise to actually pursue a relationship, despite his desperate wishes. He would not condemn Hermione to tie herself to a dead man. So her closeness would be all he’d ever get. And even that might turn out to be both – too little and too much.

On Monday, Hermione was decided. She would approach his desk after the lesson, gather the courage to leave her own note on his table. A book quote. Something from a classic novel. Wuthering Heights, or perhaps The Professor. Or she could simply give him a list of all the great classics where the main characters pursued a relationship despite their age gap.
Determination to set the record straight got her summoning her quill, biting down on her lip as she let her whirling mind empty out. She did not notice the buff figure of one Cormac McLaggen squeeze his way into the small alcove. It was on the fourth floor of the castle, overlooking the black sea. The window was as small as the room itself, but Hermione loved spending time in her little hide out.
A loud chuckle made her swallow down her frightened squeal and Hermione caught the ink pot just before it would spill. She straightened and stared daggers at the golden menace.
“Now, now, Miss Prefect, I didn’t mean to startle you.” he drawled, his sweet cologne already giving Hermione a headache.
“Or perhaps you should come out and...play more, if you did not wish to be startled.” His voice may be sweet and playful, but Hermione noticed the dangerous glint in his hazel eyes.
“Perhaps some of us seek solitude, McLaggen, in order to be left alone.”
“Oh, pish posh.” his chuckle felt so condescending, so patronizing, she had to stop herself from grinding her teeth.
“I see you kicked those two tossers in the rear, well done Hermione! Now why don’t you let me fill that spot princess?” The boy may be a buff, but all Hermione could feel as he tried to close in on her in that little chamber was pure disgust.
“I’m sorry, McLaggen, but I have no spots to fill. You, however, will need to find another dueling partner for today.” she did all she could to leave her voice cold and haughty, almost emotionless.
“Why is that, princess?” he said softly, with just a hint of an underlying temper in his voice.
“Because Neville had already asked me to be with him today and probably henceforth.” Hermione added her own innocent sweetness to the tone, because she felt it was better not to rile him up any further.
“You see, he is having troubles focusing on the task at hand because of Professor Snape. I already owed him a favour, so I said why not.” Lifting her shoulders and letting them fall back down as if she had no worry in her life, Hermione wished for her dear life the boy would not dig in now, that they were almost running late for the class.
Hermione hated being late.
“I suppose you didn’t have a choice, right?”
“Riiight…” she nodded, already halfway through the door.
McLaggen caught up with her swiftly.
She made him walk the rest of the way in silence and happily noticed the lack of chit chat made the boy uneasy. He was not used to not getting his way, not being in the spotlight.
A heady sense of relief washed over her as she managed to sit down next to Neville, chest heaving. Professor Snape had not yet made an appearance.
“Are we still on for the duels?” The gaunt, shy boy asked just as the heavy door hit the wall.
Professor Snape marched in with his heavy black regalia swirling around him like angry waves. His robes left behind a faint scent of him and Hermione caught herself just in time, before she would make a complete fool out of herself by deeply inhaling a mouthful.

Good Godric, she missed his strong embraces. She didn’t have a heart to wash those clothes for days, because they still smelled of him.

The lesson revolved around alternative use of mundane spells and ridiculous jinxes as a weapon. What Professor Snape was trying to teach them, was that every spell could be used as a weapon, if one was in a grave need for a creative solution.
He had them practice a wast array of simple spells on each other, correcting their casting and the use of the spells.
The double period was coming to an end and Professor looked like he was only slightly annoyed with them. Not him nor Hermione noticed the merciless vengeance that filled the eyes of a boy with golden locks. McLaggen aimed his wand at Hermiones back, when the witch turned to pick up her bag. She might have been done, but some of less successful students were still casting, and Cormac was certain his “stray” spell would not be caught. It would be pronounced an accident.
He felt a perverse sort of joy when the swelling jinx left his wand. Hermione instantly grabbed at her throat, obviously unable to breathe.
Professor Snape was with her in less than a second, carefully examining her face.
“Finite Incantatem” He said almost inaudibly, but his lips were pressed into a thin line and his face was pale.
“Which one of you bloody imbeciles cast the swelling jinx?!” He bit out, his voice cold with indignant rage. No one payed attention to the way he kept his fingers on Hermione’s pulse point as she laid on the floor unconscious.
“I-it was McLaggen, S-sir.” Neville said shyly.
If the boy wasn’t such a gentle pansy, Severus might have even liked him.
“It’s true, Sir, I saw him too.” Potter chimed in, his eyes a little terrified as he watched his alleged friend lay on the floor unconscious.
McLaggen piped up to protest, but the dark Professor had him pinned against the wall at wand point before the boy could even utter a word.
“Go to Professor McGonnagall. Now.” Severus bit out the words.
McLaggen was breathing shallowly, still trying to protest.
“Yes, squirm now, you little heathen! Protest my orders and I swear to you I will get permission to search every filthy inch of your adolescent mind. And we shall see, just how much intent was in that stray spell of yours. Give me a reason. I beg you.”

The room around them went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Pulling back, Severus released the boy and wiped his palms as if in disgust.
“Two scrolls on the dangers of the inappropriate use of swelling and other body altering spells. By Friday.”
The man dropped down to his knees next to Miss Granger, not giving a flying fuck if the students saw worry deform his face as they trickled out to the Hallway. When they were finally alone, he could not resist gathering Hermione in his arms and slowly carrying her all the way to the Hospital Wing. He was, of course, well versed in healing, but knew he’d have a clearer conscious if the Mediwitch looked over her.
Even unconscious, her body seemed to snuggle into his embrace oh, so comfortably. Severus paused before entering the Hospital wing, and let himself breathe her in. Just for a moment, relishing in the fact that Hermione was alive and would recover.
As he laid her down on the hospital bed, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.
“A swelling jinx to the throat. My, my Severus, the girl was lucky you were there.” she frowned, casting a series of diagnostic spells over Hermiones body.
“I believe it’s best we let her sleep it off instead of reviving her. Oh, Severus, it seems you’ve dropped something.”
Her off hand comment made Severus look down to see a piece of paper on the floor. He recognized her handwriting immediately.
Taking a careful look, he almost choked at the few words staring back at him.
Hermione Granger wrote him a reply.

It happened on that lonely September night. It was Wednesday, and Hermione was already back on her feet. She wondered what happened to the reply she had written for the dark man, but did not find an opportunity to speak to him. Before going to bed, she thought of Severus longingly, promising herself she would do what ever it takes to show the man her affection.

Severus was just returning to his private quarters at Hogwarts. He felt exhausted and emptied out by the sheer willpower it sometimes took for him to participate in Voldemort’s schemes. This time, he got lucky. He avoided getting his mind read, but had to fortify it just in case. He had to leave the light castle of his mind for the time being, and move into the dark one. It was a mental practice of a sort, separating his persona from his alter ego.

The light side of the castle was his true self. That was the Severus that did not have any prejudice in his heart. That part of his longed to protect, to create, to teach. That part of him reveled in the long walks in the Forbidden forest, foraging for potion ingredients. That part of him liked his routines, mountains of books, and the calming solitude of putting on a helmet, driving Franks old motorcycle around the country.

The dark side of the castle was just a small, secret passage away. There, he was the bat of the dungeons, the formidable Death Eater, the scary, ruthless dark wizard of quiet demeanor and deadly temper.
The faithful servant to the Dark Lord.
He made sure no one knew this was simply an alter ego. There were no traces of light in this part of his mind. Just cold, detached shadows. No one dared to doubt his loyalty.
Each time he returned back to Hogwarts, mentally returning to the light part of his mind, he felt cold, so cold. Severus collapsed into his black leather armchair, a glass of fire whiskey in his hand, and flicked his wrist. The fire in the hearth roared to life. The lights were still out but he didn’t need them.
He would not read today or prepare for lessons. Just rest.

Then, inside the castle of his mind, a golden light teased him to follow it. Feeling curious, Severus followed. He hadn’t known when his eyes had closed.
Was this a dream?
He slowly opened the ornate door in front of him, and stepped into the library. Huge windows opened the room to autumnal sun, and it was so, so warm.
“There you are,” her soft voice floated to him.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” Hermione stood by the great window, her honey curls cascading down her back. She was wearing that same vintage dress she had on when they met at Grimmaulds.
Severus drank the sight of her like a drowning man drank the fire whiskey, emotions burning down his throat. He marched toward her, with long, purposeful strides.
“Why are you here, Hermione?” he asked cautiously. Her name on his lips was barely more than a whisper, so reverently he said it.
“You know why I am here, Severus.” Hermione reached out for his hand, guiding him closer. His arms slid around her waist confidently this time. This time, his eyes roamed down her face with honest adoration.
“Tell me anyway.” he said, cupping one side of her face with his long, calloused fingers.
“I am yours, Severus.” she searched his eyes for the answers.
“I have always been yours.”Hermione slid her hand up to entwine her fingers with his own. Every new sensation had her entire body humming.
Severus lowered his head slowly.
“Yes, love, you are mine now. You will always be mine.”

Hermione’s soft mouth curved into a smile, as Severus pressed his lips to hers for the very first time. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she moaned loudly. Their lips danced in perfect unison, small pants and shaky grunts filling the air as they explored each other. The pleasure coursing through them made Hermione shiver, and she pressed her body closer to him, whimpering. The vibration of that single sound swallowed any restraints Severus might have left.

He let his mouth roam down the column of her neck, tasting her silky skin, while his hands slid across the tiny buttons on the front of her dress, undoing them magically. Hermione threw her head back and felt like begging. Severus knelt down and licked at the skin of her calves, tracing his tongue up her thighs slowly, wantonly.
“Will you let me...taste you, love?”
Hermione nodded shyly and her clothes vanished, the traces of his magic leaving her naked but for the leather strapped sandals. She felt her skin prickle from pleasure and shuddered. It was too much. It was not enough. Tilting her back to lean on the shelves, Severus’s mouth traveled up. His large palms grabbed her butt cheeks, his fingers digging in to her flesh possessively. Severus nuzzled her with his nose - up her hip bone, then down her mound, teeth grazing gently. Pulling her legs apart, he licked her pink, glistening slit from the bottom up.
Gods, was she sweet.
Her panting like music to his ears, her breathy moans giving him rhythm as he lapped at her folds. Severus felt ravenous. Eyes on her, he was dipping his tongue, swirling it, sucking at her clit. Hermione almost chuckled because the man seemed to have a good idea what to do with his acidic mouth, even when he was quiet. She felt her body shiver and tense up as he groaned against her sex, closing his black eyes in the name of pleasure.
Severus enjoyed tasting her so much, he was a little disappointed when it only took him a short while to make his witch coil up before reaching the breaking point. Hermione’s fingers pulled at his raven hair gently as she came on his tongue. His strong arms kept her steady as the pleasure tore through her body.

“That’s my good girl.” Severus purred as he licked her clean. Hermione sighed with content, pulling his head back to hers.
“That was…” Hermione didn’t get to finish her sentence.

For a moment. Severus’s eyes snapped wide open.
What the actual fuck?
He was back in his armchair, breathing heavily. The taste and smell of her still clung to his lips. Severus felt his cock straining against the fabric of his black trousers, with an erection so hard it was nearly painful. He had no choice. Squinting, he slowly took his cock in his hand. Severus closed his eyes and there she was.

Merlin, she was so beautiful.
Her big eyes dreamy with lust, her body slack form one delicious orgasm. A part of his mind knew, it was his own hand stroking his length, but it did not matter. Sliding his long fingers up her spine and into her hair, his mouth was now traveling up, over her bellybutton, over her ribs, over her pert nipples, and bit down on her neck. While he sucked gently at the exposed skin, Hermione reached between them. She undid his trousers with some effort, her fingers tracing the veins on his cock with such gentle precision it made him mutter curses against her pale skin.
“I need you, Severus. Please.” she pleaded with breathy voice, her hand guiding the large cock to her dripping entrance.
“Aren’t you a brave one, love.” Severus grumbled against her.
Hermione whined in desperation as he kissed her hungrily.
“Don’t worry, I need you too.” He slid into her tight channel with one long stroke, hitting her cervix. They hissed in unison. It felt oh so good to finally have her. He slid his tongue into her mouth and began to lick in time with his deep thrusts. They panted into each others mouths as he rocked in and out, slowly picking up the speed.
“Fuck, love, you feel so good. So, so good for me” he drank her moans, kissing her deeply. Hermione pulled away just enough to breathe, her thighs wrapped around him, like she will never let him go.
“Severus, Sev...” She kept chanting his name as if it were a lifeline, a little piece that allowed her to keep at least a fragment of her sanity. She felt so full, so perfectly stretched, his thrusts hitting all the little spots Hermione never even knew existed. Her hands were under his shirt, nails scraping against his lower back.
“Come for me, love. Let me feel you.” Severus commanded, his beautiful voice incredibly low and breathless. He felt her whole body tense around him. As her walls fluttered in another orgasm, he bit down on her neck and came undone right along with her. Severus pushed deep inside her, his whole body shaking with the blinding force of an orgasm. Hermione’s arms held him close, their bodies melting like wax as they relaxed into each other.
“Finally.” she muttered against his temple and kissed him softly. Then their eyes met.

On a silent scream, Hermione jolted from her sleep, sitting straight. She felt her thighs wet from her two orgasms, muscles still contracting with aftershocks.
What on Earth was that? A dream? A Hallucination? A Stellar Projection of a sort? She fantasized about the wizard sometimes, when she needed release, but that was different.
Now, Hermione’s senses were filled with his smell, his sounds. She knew what was the shape of his cock, how his belt left small imprints on his skin at the hips. She knew the texture of his skin. Damn it, she could still feel his teeth where he bit her neck.

Slowly, Hermione summoned the pocket mirror she had in her drawer. There were no hickeys, no bite marks. Then, she glanced at her wristwatch. It was 00:33, September the 19th.
“Happy birthday, Hermione” she whispered into the darkness.

Deep down in the dungeons, Severus sat like petrified. He slowly turned his wrist to wandlessly remove any evidence of his deeds. He could not remember ever coming so hard. Never had a fantasy felt so real.

He actually felt torn between relief and disappointment, when he noticed he was covered in his spill only. With Hermiones scent deep in his nostrils, he almost wished he could lick his lips and taste her once more.
But it was just him.

Unnerved from the experience, he vanished his clothes and collapsed onto his big black fourposter. Wrapped in the satin sheets, Severus could not settle. He needed to feel her close, somehow. He resigned to summoning the two sheets of paper she tore from her notebook just for him. They still smelled of her perfume.
Holding them under his pillow, he finally fell into deep sleep.

Chapter Text

It was a windy morning, and the Scottish Highlands were overshadowed by the clouds. Hermione could hear the wind whipping mercilessly against her bedroom window, but could not bring herself to care.
She felt warm and safe, tucked deep under the blankets. She might not have been fully awake … yet, but her mind was already spinning with countless impressions left over from her midnight tryst with Severus. He was Severus now. Hermione could no longer call him anything else, not after…

Oh, Gods.

Was that how sex felt like? It was safe to say it was just a little unsettling to know what it is like to have sex, while remaining a virgin. Trying not to get carried away with philosophical ruminations on womanhood, Hermione steered her mind elsewhere.
The way he looked at her, with his face completely unguarded.
The way he touched her, eager and passionate.
The way he said she will always belong to him.

Then she remembered. She said it first.
Was it a kind of vow?

Hermione was hungry to learn, what actually happened. There had to be an explanation for it. Convinced she was not the only participating mind, knowing she shared this fantasy with Severus was like a key turning in the keyhole of her heart. Like an endless flood of warmth coursing through her, consuming her mind, her body, her soul.

If Hermione thought she knew love before, she knew nothing.

Still in her bed, she closed her eyes and thought of Severus. Somehow, Hermione felt certain, he was still asleep. His body fresh and warm, wrapped in something soft. A smile crept upon her face. He was exhausted. He needed this.

It was in that moment Hermione realized, the connection from her dreams didn’t dissipate. If anything, it was like an invisible string of gold, that seemed to be pulling her to the dark Professor. How in the name of Merlin did she know that?!
When she reached inside herself, it was like her heart was made of some divine warmth, that was spreading through her veins, filling her up with each heartbeat. Unconditional love, was the answer her mind gave her. Waiting for him, like an enchanted fountain, never running dry. Hermione knew, with a certainty she never felt before, it would remain inside her until her last breath.

“Rise and SHINE!” Lavender and Parvati pulled open the velvet curtains of her fourposter.
“Happy Birthday!” They hugged and giggled, acting foolishly childish for girls on the brink of womanhood.
“Let me breathe!” Hermione gasped for air, her body still shaking with laughter. “No! Hermione, you promised.” The two girls were trying their best to be stern and failing.
“Alright, I am your puppet, but make it quick.” She sighed, caving in.

It actually felt good, Hermione thought, to finally feel some girlish companionship between herself and her roommates. Ever since she grew apart from the boys, all the girls in Gryffindor started treating her like she was one of them. They didn’t become close friends by any means, but a sense of ease around each other was more then welcome.

Funny, how things turn, Hermione thought. Lavender and Parvati made her promise she would let them play with her hair and make up. It was their way of pampering her, acknowledging she belonged. With a few protests here and there, they managed to get going in just half an hour. Hermione's hair was falling in perfectly shaped curls, but they managed to tame some of the top layers into a loosely braided crown. Hermione rarely fussed with her looks, but now she felt like a princess. She was protesting their make up choices, so the girls had to settle for slight rouge on her lips and cheeks, just a touch of golden dust on her eyelids and a black mascara. Lavender pulled off a spell that made Hermiones skin glow a bit, and her tiny freckles grew more distinct, more visible.

Looking in the mirror, the glowing face staring back at her seemed slightly unfamiliar. Hermione found herself hoping foolishly, that the certain dark Professor would notice. Would approve.

Feeling comfortable and well put together, they headed down for breakfast. Somewhere along the way, she let the girls rush forward without her, telling them she simply needed a minute. Smiling, they let her be.
Hermione paused before the Great Hall, a small part of her reaching out only to realize Severus already settled himself at his usual place among the staff.
A little anxious, a little worried, a little excited – Hermione felt like exploding. Resolved to summon her Gryffindor courage, she took a deep inhale. Then, she pushed the door open.

The Gryffindor table erupted with loud cheers. Hermione felt herself enveloped into the crowd of more or less known faces and thought just how Gryffindor was it to use any excuse for throwing a party. She was grateful, but at the same time, she knew this was not really about her at all.

Some students from other houses joined in. Luna and Cho came to hug her, leaving their food at the Ravenclaw table untouched. Ginny and Neville sang an off key Happy Birthday song, changing the lyrics as they went. They stopped only when Hermione warned them she could take away house points for inappropriate use of language in public. Despite herself, Hermione was giggling like an idiot, and tried not to stiffen up when to her surprise, Harry and Ron hugged her and sat down like nothing had changed. She decided to let it be, for now. Hermione was not one to ruin her own birthday with bitter confrontations.
Deep down, she was still adamant, she would not let them get away with what went on in the summer.

When the whirlwind around her settled, Hermione sensed herself being watched. The first pair of eyes was Draco. He looked depressed most of the time, and it confused her. Draco got taller in the past two years and playing quidditch seemed to gradually fill out his form. But ever since the summer, his eyes grew hollow, his posture gaunt. Hermione could not help herself. She genuinely felt sorry for the boy, but it also confused her. Why was Draco so miserable, when the blood supremacists were on the rise again? Deciding, she would not be able to solve the mystery of Malfoy junior at breakfast, she ignored his staring and shifted her focus to the second pair of eyes. Black ones, that observed her far more covertly.
Severus.

When their eyes met across the Great Hall, it sent shivers down her spine. Her breathing grew heavier, her head was spinning. It was like an overwhelming wave of emotions, crashing over her, taking her under. Hermione could not look away, she was transfixed, locked in his dark eyes.
Then, like a glass bell was placed over her, the connection grew dull.
Hermione was confused. A second ago, she could almost sense everything that went on inside him, brushing against her own consciousness. A moment later it was like someone had pushed her head under the water.

Severus was occluding fiercely.
Holy. Fucking. Fuck.
Hermione turned of age.

It was past midnight when they shared their first and most intimate thoughts. He was certain, when he woke that morning, it was more than himself in the fantasy they created. He simply...knew it.
Because when he woke this morning, there was this deep sense of knowing where she was, what she was doing. It was like listening to what went on in another room through the closed door. Her door. He felt a strong pull to just go and find her. To run to her.
The golden light that called upon him in the dream, it was still there, forming a passage.

That morning, Severus skipped most his usual routine. He was already late for breakfast, which was highly unusual for him. Then there was this unknown part of his mind that kept urging him to go downstairs and reach the Great Hall before her.
What a picture she made, striding in the way she did. Her legs, her curves, her curls, her face. There was something about Hermione’s face this day. She looked simply radiant. It was like a golden aura surrounded her entire being, but when he glanced at other professors, no one seemed to notice it. They just laughed cheerfully, some lifting their cups to cheer her on.
As the birthday ruckus at the Gryffindor table began to settle, Severus felt Hermione search for him. Expecting their usual stare down to commence, he did not hesitate to lock his black eyes with hers.
No, he needed her to look at him, to acknowledge his presence. Desperately.

It felt like a gut punch. It knocked all air out of him. For a moment, there was just the two of them in the whole wide world. Severus felt a golden warmth seeping through her, encompassing her entire being, calling to him. He loved her, so deeply, so unconditionally he would live and die for her, in that moment. Always.
Then it struck him.
They said things, things that were not just an exchange of passionate confessions. What they said before, about belonging to each other? Those were vows.
Severus suddenly felt overwhelmed. This could not be. They ...they could not ... but what if they were?
He needed some distance. To think. To research. To confirm. If what he thought was true, if they were … he willed himself to think it. Soulmates.
Testing the word in his head, it felt strange and exotic. If they were soulmates, it would change everything.

Severus strode into his private quarters, pulling a thin, almost insignificant leather bound book off the shelf. It did not take him long to find what he was looking for.
Page 41 – Soulmates: the blessing of the fates.
His eyes devoured the first paragraph, then the next one, then the next. He finished the chapter. Sighed. Stopped.
He would usually read through it at least twice more, but there was no need. Severus felt the words - the truth - etched to the back of his eyelids. The sensations, the descriptions. They all fit perfectly.

Hermione Jean Granger was his soulmate.

Not knowing how to cope, Severus almost poured himself a tumbler of firewhiskey. Then he thought better. That was his fathers way. He would not go down that path. Trying to keep his head from spinning, he resolved to sit down and put his head between his knees. Remembering the grounding exercise he shared with Hermione on that dusty country road, he breathed deeply. Counted to ten. Then backwards. Named the sensations out loud as he went.
The floor was cold. It was blissfully quiet. The light was soft and green.
Sweaty with effort, Severus leaned back on the foot of the bed. He managed to quell the anxiety attack before it took him under.
He would not spend this free period in the schedule brewing.

Now that the anxiety was slowly dissipating, Severus finally felt free to think of this as a good thing.
The witch he loved was his soulmate.
Running fingers through his black hair would only make them stick out in all directions, but he couldn’t stop.
A bubble of euphoria was slowly filling up his chest, until he could take it no longer. He laughed and he cried, all at once. Why exactly, he did not know. All he knew now, was that today, he was the luckiest bastard alive.

A realization hit him like a run away train. He had spent thirty six years surviving, living a life that was barely worthy of the name. Now, he wanted to live.

Closing his black eyes, Severus willed himself to think of a life beyond Hogwarts and war. His life with Hermione.
The images washed over him. The cliff side cottage. The smell of fresh herbs in the garden, still moist from morning dew. His arms wrapped around Hermione, touching her well rounded belly, swollen with his child, while the rest of their little ones still slept in their beds. His face buried in her mass of hair. Not being grumpy in the morning despite not having his first cup of tea. Calendar filled with the plans they made together at their kitchen table. Laughing and sharing little mundane worries. Reading and researching, playfully bickering who got it right first.
Severus shook his head. He almost felt his own heart breaking, realizing he never allowed himself to believe that could ever be his life. Until today. How cruel were the fates to tease him so. After already resolving himself to die at war, he was given a gift of hope.

Hermione left the dining table quickly after Severus pushed her out of his mind. She needed to be alone. Having just thirty minutes left before Ancient Runes, she did not pause to think where she was headed. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted to run in the opposite direction. She wanted to flung herself at the stubborn wizard and claim him, Gryffindor style. But she couldn’t do that. Cursing their delicate circumstances and secrecy, Hermione headed for the library.
She was late for class, but felt just slightly more at ease with three new books on soulmatism and magical bonding rituals, burning a hole in already overflowing messenger bag.
Not paying attention to the lesson, she thought back on how he responded to the whole...thing.
Hermione? She simply accepted it. Eagerly.
Severus? If what she felt from him was accurate, then he felt excited and frightened all at once.

Logically, Hermione was able to convince herself, he was a spy. He certainly did not want her in his head. She was probably going to be in danger for being connected to him, even if they kept the relationship a secret. It still felt a little sad to be disconnected.
Then, her mothers words floated into her mind.
Just continue being true to who you are, honeypot. Be bright and loving. Be brave and stubborn. That man needs a little light in his life.

Yes, Hermione nodded to herself. She would be all that. But if what she sensed from him before was true, she would also need to be understanding and gentle. Patient, even. Because even in those brief moments, Hermione sensed deeper, more sensitive spots hidden under the hard outlook of the Professor. Under his black armor, her man had a soft heart.

The classes seemed to drag on into forever. Severus didn’t know whether to be grateful for the workload or to hate it. Rationally, he knew there were precautions to be taken on the road to building his life with Hermione. He knew he would have to ask her for some time to make sure they were safe. But it was her birthday and his resolve to stay away until he was ready was wearing thin.

A lucky mishap gave him a much needed opening. Professor Slughorn had sent a patronus, saying a cabinet in the storeroom refused to open itself to anyone but him. Quietly cursing the old goat, Severus marched into his old classroom only to see Hermione bending over her pewter cauldron, brewing something that might turn out to be a draught of the living death.
Schooling his face into an expressionless mask, Severus did not utter a word as he walked straight to the store room. Inside himself, he laughed at the way all the backs had straightened the minute he entered the room. Everyone quieted down.
Except her. Despite remaining quiet and orderly, Hermione almost chuckled at her classmates reaction. He caught the ends of her mouth trembling.
Using Slughorns invitation to check the brews in progress as a guise, Severus resolved to leaving a small note on Hermiones work station and hoped she would notice. Hoped she would understand.

The moment Severus left the classroom, she took the little piece of parchment he managed to slide between her notes, and hid it in her robes instead. Later when she finally managed to escape to the loo and take a peek, she realized, she needn’t have.
It said Wordsworth; 24-7. S
Merlin, that wizard knew how to be cryptic, Hermione shook her head, laughing in disbelief.
It was an easy puzzle for a bookworm, she thought. Wordsworth was famous for his love for the lakes. The Black Lake.
24-7? Five in the afternoon.
She had a date with Severus Snape. At the Black Lake. At five.

Where at the Black Lake they should meet, turned out to be harder to pin down. Hermione walked slowly among the winding path, watching every foggy clump of trees for any signs of him. She was already halfway around the Lake, when she saw Cerberus, perched on a branch of an old tree. Smiling to herself, she slowly approached the spot, only to feel the gentle caress of Severus’s magic as his wards let her through.

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other. Silent, eager, uncertain. She shyly stepped forward and he met her half way.
Their first kiss was not hasty or hard. They did not crash together like two magnets, bound to force without a choice.
It was an endless moment of quiet tranquility. Hermione would never in her life forget how his face turned from stoic, to shy, to longing. How his eyes desperately held on to hers as he wrapped her in his arms.
“Hermione?” Her name on his lips was like a prayer.
She was tilting her head up, her eyes fluttering shut in invitation.
He slid his nose down the side of her own, sending her heart into a gallop. Hermione could feel his fresh breath on her skin as he paused.
“You know? Do you understand, what we are?”
“Yes.” She murmured, praying he would stop torturing her so sweetly.
“We are soulmates, Severus.”
The sound of his own name, spoken so freely, so softly, was what broke his resolve.
It was only then, that he had pressed his lips to hers.

Severus was fascinated by the way the little witch simply melted into him. Her plush mouth opened up and let him slide in his tongue, indulging him to taste, to explore. She moaned as he nibbled on her bottom lip, just like he dreamed he would countless times before. Nothing compared to how she really felt, all soft and curvy against the solid plain of his body.
It could be minutes or it could be eons, they did not care. The rest of the world seemed to fall away as they stood by the lake, kissing under the shadow of an old willow.
Hermione slowly broke the kiss, but did not move away. Severus pressed his forehead to hers, his black eyes swimming with emotions.
“We have to talk...about all of this. About us.” he said carefully.
Behind them, Hermione could see him transfigure his abandoned black cloak into a blanket. Wordlessly, wandlessly. Without even looking at it, actually. And she almost laughed.
Show off, she thought.
“I heard that.” Severus drawled somewhere above her head. Absentmindedly, he used one of his hands to draw little patterns up and down her spine as if to ground himself. Hermione looked up at him, a playful glint in her eyes.
Before she could utter a witty reply, he already had her sitting down between his legs, her back pressed into his tall frame as he leaned on the tree behind them. He snaked both his hands around her waist and buried his face into her hair, inhaling deeply.
“Merlin, I always wanted to do this. Back in the summer…”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked softly. There was no judgment in her voice, just interest.
“I didn’t think you’d want me. I am your Professor, Hermione, and nineteen years your senior atop of that.” his voice gave away the frustration it caused him.
“Yet you are the only one I’ve ever wanted.” she said quietly, tilting her head to the side to catch at least a glimpse of his face.
“This bond between us only makes it easier to cross those lines, but I would cross them with you either way.” Hermione laced her fingers with his long ones and squeezed reassuringly.
“I probably would not let you. And not because I wouldn’t feel the same.”
Confusion filled her chest, and she searched his face for answers.
“Why?” she asked.
“You know what I am, love.”
Then it hit her. She felt tears well up in her eyes.
“You thought you were going to die, weren’t you? Because of what you do?” Her voice was so emotional it was shaking. Severus held her even closer and for a moment just remained lost in thought.
“Yes, I was resolved to die. That is why I kept looking for little ways to let you know how I felt. I wanted you to know before it was too late.”
“And now?” Her heart was breaking at his confession.
“Now I will have to find a way to survive.” he paused, and Hermione was glad to have known him for so long. She knew he was contemplating something, so she waited for Severus to continue.
“Soulmates cannot live without each other, did you know?” he asked, but went on.
“Even if I managed to push you away and decline the bond, your life and magic would probably be severely endangered in case I died. I could imagine the world without me in it, Hermione, but I can’t imagine one without you.”
A tear trickled down her cheek as she tilted her head to kiss his jaw.
“I don’t believe that, Severus. And even if I am being selfish, I need you with me in this life.”
Pale fingers caressed her neck as his mouth found hers again. Emotional and slow caresses of their tongues quickly left them hungry and breathless. Severus stared at her swollen lips, pretty little scratches giving away that the man who kissed her forgot to shave that morning.
“The dream...was it real? Are we already bonded?” Hermione asked after a while, when the fuzzy feeling in her head finally let her think again.
“Yes...and no.” he replied cryptically. She could hear him shift into professorial mode before he even began to explain.
“It gave us an overview of what is to transpire between us for the bond to be...completed.”
Hermione blushed fiercely and noticed that much to her surprise, his ears turned a lovely shade of pink. She rubbed her face into him like a cat, her heart full of affection.
“I want to court you, Hermione.” Severus whispered into her ear, as if he was telling her a secret.
“Mhmm...” was all she could muster, so overwhelmed she felt by his presence, his voice, his words.
“But I will have to make sure we are safe, first. These next few weeks may be hard on you. I will have to stay away until I am certain no one will threaten our existence. Can you do that for me, love? Can you be strong for me?”
“Everything for you.” She whispered back. The weight of his words was settling deep in her stomach. This is the first and the last time in weeks they will be together like this, and it terrified her to let him go.
“I promise not to take too long.”
They sat silently after that, wrapped in each other, contemplating.

A patronus broke their peace as it floated around the wards and stopped to stare straight at Severus.
“I need you in my office, Severus, it cannot wait.” A phoenix spoke with the Headmaster’s voice. A look of contempt clouded the features of her dark wizard, Hermione noticed.
“Dumbledore. Do you think he knows? I...I don’t trust him.”
“And so you shouldn’t.” he said calmly, but there was bitterness in his voice now. “I don’t know when I will be able to be with you like this again, love.” Severus stated sadly as he helped her up.
“No matter what happens...trust this. Trust us.” he was holding her face in his hands, his black eyes staring deep into hers.
“Don’t give up on me, love.”
He kissed her, shortly. Hungrily. Desperately.
“I won’t, Severus. I will wait for you, even if it takes a century. I will find a way and wait for you.” Hermione whispered against his lips, before he let her go.

She watched him disappear in the distance and felt a piece of her heart leave with him.

In the same moment she almost began to cry, his voice rang through her mind clear as day.
“I almost forgot to wish you a Happy Birthday, love. I hope it was a good one.”
And so Hermione sat down at their spot under the willow, with Cerberus keeping her company, and smiled through her tears.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore sat quietly at his ornate desk, looking as innocent as a first year who had just deliberately blew up a cauldron. Severus was staring at him, the silence between them them thick and uncomfortable.
“You didn’t call me to report on what transpired at the Malfoy manor yesterday, did you?” his voice was cold, but not dispassionate.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Severus.” Dumbledore brushed an invisible lint of his collar.
“I report to you every time there is a new development. There was none. Why am I here?”
Severus may appear calm, but deep inside, he was livid. He left Hermione at the Lake for this? Determined to at least get one clear answer, he changed his tack and fell quiet.
“But there was, wasn’t it, Severus? Hermione Granger turned of age.” Severus did not like one bit how the silvery eyes glinted at that name.
“Were you with her, before you came here?”
For a few beats, there was no answer and Dumbledore wondered, how much further he will have to push for the dark wizard to explode.
To his surprise, he didn’t explode at all.
“Yes.”
“And? How was it?” Dumbledore kept prodding, not really sure of his moves any longer.
“How was what?” Severus could not help himself. The old goat looked as if he was about to implode from curiosity.
“If you would like to waste my time and yours with this game, Severus, then I would rather have Flopsy fetch us some tea.” Dumbledore deadpanned.
A first crack on the surface, Severus thought.
“The only one playing games here is you, Albus. Since you don’t have the common curtsy to enlighten me about how or how long have you known about the bond between me and Hermione, perhaps I better just obliviate you and leave.”
The words hung heavy between the two wizards.
“Would you stay and pursue her if you knew, before? If I told you a year, or ten years ago there will be a student you will inevitably share your soul with and gladly? Tell me, Severus, what would you do?”
“I would not plan to die and curse myself for loving her, that is what.” Severus burst out in rage.
“I thought there was something so utterly wrong with me, for loving her the way I do.” Dumbledore observed the once cold man that was not lit with fire.
“Only to realize I am meant to love her. To protect her. To live.”
Severus’s chest was heaving.
“I would have started to build a life for us long ago, so I could share it with her now that she is mine.”
That is when the mirthless chuckle escaped his throat, lacing his triage with bitterness.
“But that is not what you needed, is it, Albus? You needed me in the dark. Because had I known, maybe you’d have lost a spy.”
Dumbledores shoulders slumped visibly and he called for the pensieve.
“There was a prophecy, many years ago…”
“Of course there was a prophecy.” Severus echoed acidly.
“See for yourself, Severus.” With a wave of his white wand, Dumbledore gestured to the oval surface of the bowl.

When the dark wizard emerged from the memory, he pinched the bridge of his nose, hard.

“I am sorry I kept this from you, Severus, truly. But you know, the night is at its darkest just before the dawn breaks. Dark times are coming.” If there was genuine remorse in the Headmasters words, Severus did not know.
“I am telling her everything. You will not use your knowledge of this bond to manipulate us. Our life and our bond will be our own. Are we clear?”
“Of course. Congratulations, Severus. Your union will have our full support.”
“Our?! Who else did you tell?”
Dumbledore watched the man in front of him and realized, something had changed drastically. The man before him was no longer a cold snake, but a fire breathing dragon.
“Only Minerva, Severus I promise. She was so happy for you. She wants to come to the wedding. I would love to officiate, if you’d let me.”
Severus stopped pacing, his face slack with shock.
“She approves? And you want to…?” running a shaky hand through his raven hair, Severus tried desperately to calm down. He had expected everything from covert manipulation to straight out extortion. Everything, but support. Not from the two people who, despite himself, Severus could not deny somehow took over parental figures in his life when he turned himself over to the light.
The need to distance himself and think about all the ways this could backfire, all the ways he could protect himself and Hermione when it did. But one thing, Severus was certain of. Like a true Slytherin, he would play his cards while they were still in his favor.
“You will help me hide the wedding certificates from the Ministry. No one can know about this. I want a vow of secrecy signed in blood by both of you or else I will obliviate you.”
Dumbledore jumped at the offered truce without a second thought, offering everything, just to avoid having his mind prodded by the potions master.
“And the castle will provide you with a secret passage from her dormitory to your quarters. A husband and a wife were always a sacred union to Hogwarts.”
That last bit made Severus twist his lips into a smirk. Raising one eyebrow at the old wizard, he shook his head, astonished at how the conversation turned.
“I better get her a ring, then.”

On that Saturday morning, Hermione began her apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. She was happy for a distraction, because all the studying in the world could not keep her mind from whirling around a certain dark soulmate of hers.
The way he looked at her with those endless black eyes. The way he felt, pressed against her now that they didn’t have to look for excuses. The way he kissed her, like they had all the time in the world. Or before he left, like he burned for her desperately.
Resolved to keep her promise and stay strong, she walked the halls with her chin up. Hermione thought that this period in between might be good. She had so many things to decide on, things she put off thinking about because the war seemed so inevitable it was hard to think of anything else.
But now Hermione had a man who would be bound to her for life. He said he wanted to court her. Did that mean he would marry her? She wondered where they’d live and somehow realized she didn’t fear the reality of it. In fact, it excited her to imagine their day-to-day life. Would he be grumpy in the morning? Would they shower together and cuddle before falling asleep? Would they have a lot of...Oh, good Godric. Just a mere thought of having sex with Severus flustered her. Not that she couldn’t imagine it. Vividly. It was just that now it was real. It will happen...eventually.
Hermione sighed. She would reread her favorite smutty novels while she waited for him. Then, at least, she would have a semblance of an idea of how not to make a complete fool out of herself when they were naked.

Trying hard to redirect her mind to the healing spells she read about, she pulled her favorite turtleneck over her head. It was as soft as a cloud, handmade by her godmother Violet. This one was in varying shades of green and blue, delicate threads creating an illusion of colors seeping into one another. Hermione always thought how it looked like the water of the Black lake, especially from under the surface. She had the same one in a combination of deep purple and burgundy. Violet called them potion sweaters, because they reminded her of the swirling colorful liquid Hermione once gifted her in an ornate flask.

Lacing up her brown leather boots, Hermione wished she could talk to her godmother. She was her mothers best friend and a seamstress at the National Theater in London. Violet was an unusual woman. Beautiful, creative and temperamental, but also fiercely loyal. She always made sure Hermione and her mother were dressed in clothes that were flattering to their skin, hair and body type, often creating pieces for their wardrobe by herself. When Hermione was little, Violet would pamper her with pretty dresses. Little doll is what she’d call her. Now Violet had a daughter of her own, another muggleborn witch. Ivy.
Her mind circled back to family and her heart filled with hope that Severus would somehow fit into the colorful tapestry of people she cared about.

Since she was already running late, Hermione decided to skip breakfast and headed straight for the Hospital wing. She didn’t notice McLaggen, who casually got up and followed her from the common room. It grated him some, knowing he had to resolve to such filthy tactics, but getting what he wanted from Miss Prefect was more than worth it. He slid into an alcove by the entrance to the Hospital wing, watching Hermiones ass sway in that tight pair of jeans, imagining a dozen wicked ways he could talk her up. Two days ago, it was her Birthday and Cormac deliberately didn’t congratulate her. He didn’t want to do it at breakfast, join the crowd. He wanted to be the only one to get her attention. McLaggen always got what he wanted. The way he wanted it. And he did not share.
The fact was, he did not care really, for the way Hermione treated him. Never letting him bend any rules. Never giving him more attention than necessary. He would teach her, just how to tend to his needs. He would train her.
Like. A. Dog.
She was a bitch, after all. But she would only be his bitch.

The majority of the next few hours flew by quickly. Madam Pomfrey had Hermione practice diagnostic spells and standard procedures for this or that injury. Of course the real work would have to wait until they had a serious patient, but Hermione felt thrilled at the prospect of learning how to heal none the less.

She left the Hospital Wing in time to go for lunch in the Great Hall before it got too crowded. Floating on her study high, Hermione did not notice Cormac until he caught up to her. They were standing in an empty hallway.
“Hey there, Hermione!” He drawled. He aimed for sleek, but came off sleazy.
“Special times, huh?” Cormac only got closer, ignoring her lack of reply.
“Huh?” Hermione did not like to come across as inarticulate, but maybe the buff would have less trouble understanding a more primitive language.
“You’re of age!” He declared as if it was his own birthday.
She had to hold back a laugh. Than an eye roll. What an obnoxious prick.
“Now, you can finally take us anywhere, darling. How about Hogsmeade?”
He was getting uncomfortably close and Hermione felt sick, smelling his overly sweet cologne. She took a step back, eyeing him with suspicion.
“You’d still have to walk me there. I don’t have the license to apparate. And one can’t even apparate through the wards around Hogwarts. You would only splinch yourself.”
Cormac did not get the message.
“Okay! Then you could fix me up. Like a hot nurse.” His eyes were already swimming with filthy thoughts, and Hermione could not wait to get rid of him.
“Hey I think Parvati is waiting for me in the dorm. See you later!” She tried her best to distance herself and hurry ahead of him, but McLaggens beefy fingers wrapped around her wrist painfully.
“Hey, I didn’t even kiss you happy birthday yet!” He sounded like a petty child, pouting because he did not get the sweets.
“Cormac, my Birthday was over two days ago and I am done celebrating. Let go of me!” Hermione tried her stern voice, but to no effect. The boy snarled and kept his hands firmly on her. Pulling at her forcefully, she rammed into him with no control. Feeling his sweaty palms squeeze at her elbows, she tried her best to think through the sickness washing over her.
An idea came to her instantly. She faked stepping on his leg clumsily, ramming her elbow into his relaxed solar plexus as she went. Hermione was quite smaller than the buffoon, but far from helpless.
He did not let go of her completely, but McLaggen obviously warred between trying to keep calm and erupting into a tantrum. She smiled innocently.
“Oh I am sorry, how clumsy of me. You only wanted to be nice!” She talked on, stirring him back in the direction of the Hospital wing.
“I must take you somewhere, you were right. I must help you get to the Infirmary. I will not sleep a wink until madam Pomfrey confirms there is no permanent damage from my fumbling. A sportsman like you cannot afford any unhealed injuries.” Hermione batted her lashes at the boy.

Cormac was furious. All he wanted was a good snogg. And a butter beer or two, on her expense. A chance to show her off around Hogsmeade, draped around him like a cashmere scarf. Now she was shoving him and mocking him and escorting him to the fucking Infirmary. What a bloody joke.
He always had trouble controlling his temper. Now it was on the verge of busting him apart. He wanted to rage and force her into submission.
Cormac was mostly silent on their way to the Hospital wing. Waiting for madam Pomfrey, his mind cooled and he decided to switch perspectives. Hermione was fretting over him, taking him to a hospital like a little bird with a broken wing. He would put on a show and demand Hermione to care for him. Yes, that would keep her close.
But all the fussing Cormac daydreamed about flew out the window, as Madam Pomfrey exited her office. She looked him over once, than barked.
“McLaggen, into examination chamber. Miss Granger, thank you for bringing him, you are excused to leave this instant. I can take it from here.”

Hermione felt relief wash over her, as she noticed a spark of sympathy in Mediwitches eye. Who would have thought the matron would catch on to the situation so quickly. There was no need to tell her twice, Hermione smiled to herself. But the incident left her feeling like she will need to become more resilient, more aware of her surroundings.
This was, after all, the second time in a month that Cormac managed to sneak up on her, and she shuddered at the idea what could happen if he managed his third strike.

A week flew by, and the lack of communication from one Severus Snape had Hermione feeling maudlin. Their next lesson of Defense he strode in, gave them a theoretical problem and an hour to solve it, then hid behind a tower of papers to read through and grade.
She felt a quiet pang of pain in her chest. Was this because he had to avoid her? Remembering their conversation at the lake, she thought herself naive for thinking it would be easy to hide their relationship. Then, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. The slight shaking to his hands. Was he ill?
A different kind of worry coursed her nerves now, that she removed the pink glasses from her nose. What if something happened to him?
Their eyes met across the quiet classroom, and she smiled at him, shyly, hoping he would understand. She rubbed her hand across her sternum, then across her head as if she was chasing away a headache. A corner of his lips twitched and the look in his black eyes softened.
He received her message, it seemed. Then, after checking on her classmates with a narrow stare, he repeated her gesture. To a random observer, his moves would come off as absentminded. To Hermione, they were his reply. She too, was in his heart and mind.

In the evening, as Hermione was back in the dormitory, getting ready for bed, she realized there was another reason for her emotional swaying. It was time for her period. She never forgot about it, her body was like a Swiss clock, always on time. But now she was so overwhelmed with all the studying, all the social anxiety from being simultaneously praised, bullied and simply overlooked, Hermione lost track of her own cycles. She knew the morning would be the worst, because she forgot to ask Madam Pomfrey for the pain potion in advance. She went to bed promising herself no matter what went on in her life from that point on, she would have to find a way not to loose herself.

Next morning, as Severus was up and sweaty with his morning workout, there was this strange pain spreading through his lower abdomen. Pausing in his tracks, he looked over his body. That was not his own pain. Than it dawned on him. Hermione!
Severus lifted his occlumency walls so quickly, it almost knocked him unconscious. There was such pain radiating from his soulmate, it was hard to breathe. It was both physical and psychological. She was still in her bed, he noticed, wrapped in something warm. There were calming female voices. So she was not in danger? Severus found his mind whirling with possible answers. Then, he felt a numbing relief wash over her, and she was back to sleep. A potion, he was sure of it. He remained open to her for just a little longer, the golden warmth of their bond washing over him, calming him, inviting him. Suddenly, there were faint images in his head. Blood, so much blood on her sheets, dripping out of her. It was painful, but she was resolved to pull through her body’s cycle. She had a night of fitful sleep, and somehow, Severus knew she fell asleep crying. Before learning anything more, he snapped himself back to the present. Shame washed over him. His little witch was sad and in pain.
In desperate need to help her despite his plan to keep the distance for a couple more weeks until everything was ready, he wrapped up his work out and went to his private lab. He could at least send Hermione a few things to help her through. Closing his eyes, Severus realized he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to know what kind of chocolate she liked and if she needed more sleep while on her cycle. He wanted to brew potions tailored to her needs and cuddle her until she felt better again. Month after month. Year after year. It flustered him, how love could be so all-encompassing.

Determined not to let another month go by without Hermione at his side, Severus dug himself into work.

Windy Semptember days quickly turned into shorter October ones. The sky was slowly turning gray and the golden rays of sunshine felt scarce.
It became obvious, Severus was neck deep in work. He looked tired and paler than usual. The dark circles under his eyes gave Hermione an idea of just how hard he worked to create a safe space for them. Feeling like she should somehow contribute more than just sit around and wait, she got busy herself. As weeks flew by, it was not only her work at the Infirmary that kept Hermione occupied. It was interesting and quite taxing work. On some days, she found herself wondering, how healers managed full shifts with endless rows of patients.
Her work in the Infirmary meant patching up students that got hurt during quidditch practice, potion mishaps and an occasional teenage drama, resolved with fists or hexes. Madam Pomfrey had to tell her, that with what she’d learned from the books, there will soon be nothing more for the Matron to teach her. Resolved to keep helping, even if just for practice, Hermione decided to stay on at least until the end of the month.
Outside of that, Hermione generally did what she did best - she buried herself in books. The only thing she did for herself were the walks she took on her own. Instead of studying in the library, Hermione decided to switch up her routine and took her books out to their spot under the weeping willow at the Black lake.

Casting wards around herself to make sure Cormac could not sneak up on her again, always made her think of A ugust and the days she and Severus spent together. She saw them in a different light now that she knew what they were to each other.
It was hard, seeing him every day and not being able to be with him. But the little stolen glances, secretive smiles and occasional book references made her remember her promise to wait. He will come to her, when he was ready.
When they’d be safe.

She did not see Draco watching over her, when she went on her walks. His pale eyes took in her radiant silhouette, as she marched purposefully. He always liked watching her move. There was so much fire, so much passion inside her. She stood out to him ever since that first day of school.
If he had not been such a spoiled little prick, they might have became friends. If he was perhaps in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin, they might have taken up studying together. It was a secret he had long carried within himself. Draco did not fancy Hermione. He was positively besotted with her.
She was brilliant and brave. She was also feisty and funny. He was not blind. She was becoming bloody gorgeous. It took him long enough to pull his head out of his ass and say fuck the blood purists. He wanted to be free to befriend her.

Oh how he longed to be "one of the boys".

Not that those fucking boys treated her well. They were even bigger shits toward her than he was, and that was bloody saying something. But he craved to be near her, to be himself around her. To gain her approval.
At last, Draco was a pureblood Slytherin. He decided to use his breeding for his own good, for once. So he observed, he waited and he planned. He noticed, to his initial disappointment, the way Granger seemed to be quite smitten with his Godfather. How Snape grew protective of her, stealing hidden glances when no one was looking. That was before her coming of age.

That day he saw something pass between the pair. Draco was certain no one else saw it. Even if they did, they would not understand it. It was almost unnoticeable, but it was there. Like a small wave of static in the air, a thin ray of sunshine illuminating them. Draco knew what it meant, because he had seen it with his own parents.
Granger and Snape were soulmates.
Interesting.

He waited and waited for them to make some sort of move towards one another. Weeks passed, and still, if anything, both of them grew more burned out. Instead of being sleepy from all the late night sex they would have had if Draco was her soulmate, Hermione was obviously pining her days away or working herself into the ground. Draco had spent enough time around delicate pureblood girls to know what pining and heartache looked like. And now? They were written all over Grangers face.

When the second week of October was coming to an end, Draco had enough of his Godfathers fumbling. This was the third time he managed to scare Cormac away from stocking after Granger. Draco was not in love with Hermione yet - not completely anyway, but if he had a gift so powerful bestowed upon himself, like Snape had, he would not hesitate. He'd marry Granger in a blink.

And that got him thinking.

Severus stood at the cliffs far up the Northern coast of Scotland. The cottage in front of him was finally ready for him and Hermione to begin their life together. It was one of the smaller, almost insignificant Prince properties. It was the only one he actually wanted to keep for himself.
Severus sold his birth home in Cokeworth many years ago, and didn’t mind staying at Hogwarts full time. But now that he had a witch to think of, he needed a place they could turn into a home. Given the nature of his work as a spy, Severus poured days into making the cottage unplottable, covered in blood wards and still it didn’t feel enough. He cast a fidelius charm on top of everything, making sure he had total control over who even saw the house.
He had spent the better part of last week moving his things up here, the ones he kept in different storage units across the country. Franks old motorcycle. His mothers paintings. The old vinyl record player and endless stacks of records. Majority of his books, the ones he collected before coming into Prince inheritance and the ones he took from the library at the Prince manor.
He made sure time and time again Voldemort entered his mind, and not once had he found a trace of the bond between Severus and Hermione. A heady sense of relief washed over him. They were as safe as they would ever get, now that this was behind him.

The sea wind batted against his cloak, twisted the tendrils of his black hair. Severus didn’t care. He was so eager and so nervous to start his relationship with Hermione, he suddenly found himself unable to move. It had been weeks, after all. How does he approach her? When?
Should he be himself or should he try harder, shower her with flowers and poems like other men did?
Covering his face with his hands, he called for his elf, Posy, to make him some food. He desperately needed some sleep before he returned to the castle. If Voldemort didn’t interrupt that with more insipid demands.

It was the last day of October. Nearly a month and a half since Hermione turned of age. Since she knew in her heart there would only ever be Severus for her. Yes, she still felt him in the shadows, keeping his distance, watching over her from a distance. She knew exactly when he let down his walls of occlusion to check on her. But no matter how hard she tried to be patient with him, that was all she got. It was beginning to frustrate her.

Hermione almost laughed in disbelief, when she thought how having this much of his attention would be enough had she not known of the magical bond they shared. Now she was pining for him day and night, not being able to wait a day longer. So she forced herself to go out into the cold, walking off her nerves. Hermione was determined to calm her mind and come up with a plan. She had to start luring him in. Starting tonight, with the green costume, waiting for her back in the Gryffindor tower.

Wrapped in layers of cozy clothes Hermione went outside. She paired her favorite black jeans with high leather lace up boots and pulled a thick woolen turtleneck that swirled in deep blue and violet colors. Her woolen coat in dark burgundy was a gift by her godmother Violet. Hermione was awfully glad she inherited her mothers hourglass figure of slim waist, small shoulders, contradicted with sizable cleavage and rounded hips. Now that the hormones did their job and Hermiones body settled in its height and shape, she was glad there was no rule against wearing regular clothes outside of their scheduled classes.

She might not have been a regular girly type, but Hermione still liked to look nice. Wearing the clothes her mother and Violet helped her pick out or have sewn for her made her feel a little less homesick. She desperately needed that warmth to keep her spirits up.

She went to their spot at the Black lake, not even thinking about someone trying to join her. She transfigured a rock into a bench and laid some cushioning charms on it for comfort. She created a sphere of basic wards around herself, mostly to keep Cormac out, should he come sniffing around again. She no longer felt like she could relax because he kept popping up unexpected. And he was growing more offensive. The wind picked up, blowing her hair around her face like a halo. Hermione added a warming charm on herself. Finally, feeling safe, warm and comfortable, she opened her book. Sighing with content, she thought it was moments like this were when she loved her magic the most.

Somewhere far in the distance stood two wizards in thick black cloaks. They had just shed their ornate masks, still smelling of dark magic that surrounded them only moments before. Draco turned to his Godfather, who looked like a starving man, half mad from famine, his dark eyes trained on the girl.
"She makes a pretty picture" Draco commented lightly. He had to temper himself if he wanted his meddling to work.
"Indeed." Severus replied absentmindedly.
"I mean, she’s got all that curves and all that sexy no nonsense wits about her. I think I just might marry her."
Snape stopped and sputtered.
"What. Did. You. Just. Say?!" He growled. Alright, he dunked his first quaffle, Draco thought.
"I decided to marry Granger." He continued nonchalantly.
”She’s perfect. I think it will take some convincing, but I have all I need. I am handsome. I am powerful. And if that doesn’t do it - I am filthy rich." He was doing his best to imitate his fathers business demeanor. Cool and in control.
“You're also a Death Eater and a pureblood." Snape ground out between his teeth. Draco knew he had to act quickly or the wizard would likely bite his head off.
"I will turn sides, become a spy - like you. Voldemort is barking mad anyway."
He almost winced at the force with which he was suddenly pinned against the nearest tree trunk, Severus’s hand gripping him firmly by the throat, black wand shoved under his chin.
"You have no fucking idea what you are saying, boy." There was the infamous deadly temper that made Snape Voldemorts right hand man.
"Of course if you are honestly a Death Eater, who managed to fool Dumbledore, I must say - bravo, job well done." It was bloody hard to keep face while being held at wand point.
"That is why you don’t claim her, then? Because the fates mated you to a mudblood?" Severus went deathly pale, but his grip on Draco only got more fierce.
"How the fuck do you know that?" He muttered.
“Answer me! Now, you little twat!”
"I am not saying a word until you agree to two things." Draco was gasping for air, but he knew this was the breaking point. He would either make it work or die trying. Severus’s grip on him relaxed a little. Coughing, Draco thought to himself. This was it. One shot.
"I know about the unbreakable vow. But the help I seek is not to kill Dumbledore. It's to train me to be like you. A spy." Draco took another gulp of air. It felt liberating to finally say it out loud. Before Severus could interrupt him, Draco went on.
“Kill me now if I am wrong about you, Godfather, for I will not do his bidding.”
He caughed some, then went on.
"As I said, I know you and Granger are soulmates. But there is a loophole I read about, and since you have not yet claimed her, I want this second promise.” He paused, for effect.
“If you decide not to marry her, promise to give me the blessing to do so. Giving me the blessing...it breaks the bond you share. It will keep you free of her and allow me to make her my own."

Draco actually made that up, but he knew there was so little of literature about soulmates, he was convinced this was a proper way to fool Snape. There was no way he'd call his bluff. Snape was taking far too long to marry Granger and it was putting her in danger. Not only from other idiot boys like Cormac, but from herself as well. She was becoming pale and worn out lately, Draco noticed. He had to push his Godfathers buttons to make him see reason. Fast.
"You...you are serious?" Severus was gaping.
"Well it seems like you don’t want her." Draco paused again, shrugged.
“Can't imagine why, though. If I were you - I'd be all over her. But I can use that to my advantage." Draco allowed a hint of slyness spread into his words.
"You don’t love her! And she...she doesn’t even like you." There was a frustrated scowl on Snapes face. If anything, it made him look more dangerous than when he was angry.
"Well..." Draco trailed off, sighing dreamily.
"She was always something special. Then, she punched me in our third year and I was a goner. " He was mixing his true feelings with the lies, amplifying the truth to a make a suitable appearance.
"She will never love you." Severus looked like panicking.
“No, that she wont.” Draco managed to keep his eyes cool and trained them to Snapes. There was a deep honesty in what he was about to say.
“She will always yearn for you. But she can still want me.” Pausing, he stepped away, suddenly overcome with his own emotions whirling inside him.
“I hate to repeat myself” Draco said sardonically.
“But I am handsome, I am powerful, and I am rich.” He laughed mirthlessly, at that.
“When she is alone, broken, rejected by you...I will be there. I will treat her like a queen.” It was an honest passion he felt for Granger, filling his voice.
“I will do all I can to become her safe haven. I will be a perfect and loving husband to her. And the things I will do to her body…they will make her forget about you, at least for a while. Knowing I can have that, it is more than enough for me.”
There was a beat of silence, as thick as an iceberg.
Then, just when Draco thought he went too far, Snapes fist collided with his nose. He saw stars. His ears were ringing. Draco was pretty sure there was blood trickling all over his face.
“Hermione is mine!” Severus roared and crouched to pick him up, again, by his collar. That was the exact moment Draco knew, his plan worked.
He squinted at his Godfather. His whole body tensed, expecting another blow. Instead, it was Snape that looked like he had just received a punch himself.

“You bloody idiot. You bloody brilliant little piece of shit!” Severus let him go, and walked away. Turning back slowly, his whole face shone with so many warring emotions, Draco wondered how the man did not simply implode from keeping it all in.
“You pulled a Lucius on me!” Severus said with accusation.
“Yeah well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Draco felt relief wash over him.
“You’re a righteous little fucker, aren’t you.” Sensing his Godfather had finally calmed down some, Draco dared looking at him.
“Right again. And someday, you’ll have to thank me for it.” He said smugly. Their eyes met, and the pair of men burst out laughing. Finally, the tension dissipated and Severus felt like a giant weight was lifted off his shoulders.
“Oh Gods, what am I going to do?” he said at last. He turned to glance at Granger, who was still reading her book, oblivious to what just went on.
“I told her to wait for me. To wait until I made sure we were safe to be together. Now I’ve gotten myself so tangled up in nerves I don’t know how to approach her anymore.”
“Well, it seems you just need to approach her properly. She is attending that awful Slughorns party tonight.”
“Fuck!” The dark wizard groaned, appalled.
“That old goat always demands costumes for Halloween.” Severus felt his skin itch even at the thought of embarrassing himself by dressing up.
“Oh, you’re in luck. Hermione is going as Persephone, so you are free to be your dark, surly self and you will ironically, fit her perfectly.” Severus was gaping at him. He did not seem to catch on, so Draco explained.
“Persephone is Greek Goddess of spring and abundance, but she is also the wife of Hades, Ruler of the Underworld.”
“Yes I know the ancient Greek mythology, thank you.” Severus scowled.
“I am just befuddled you know the details of her costume choice.”
“She got the package from her godmother Violet delivered yesterday. The woman is a professional seamstress, she makes clothes for Hermione sometimes. This time, it’s her Halloween costume.” Draco explained airily.
“But I would not fumble about it, sir, I think that idiot McLaggen just might try something nasty tonight.” His silvery gaze grew grim.
“That freak has become properly obsessive. Granger sent him to the infirmary three times already and deducted his points only Gods know how many times. Yet he keeps pushing his luck.” His face dark with worry, Draco missed a look of pure astonishment that came over Snape’s face.
“Bloody Hell, boy!” He said with a mixture of surprise and pride in his voice.
”I don’t need to train you how to be a spy. You already are one!”
“So you will help me?” Draco started walking back to the castle, his face so serious he looked a decade older all of a sudden.
“Yes. If this is what you want, I will help you.” Severus said at last, thinking how fast things changed sometimes.
“You still owe me some answers.”
Draco stilled. Nodded.
“How did you know about the bond?” Sensing where the question came from, Draco calmed Snape.
“It is not obvious. I just felt it. In the Great Hall, on her Birthday.” He added quickly.
“I knew what it was, because, you know...my parents. They have it too.” Draco hung his head. Shook it.
“Gods you’re such a lucky bastard. I meant what I said earlier. You know, just in case you change your mind about Hermione.” There was a determination to Snapes face now, Draco noticed.
“Not a chance, boy, not a chance.”

Chapter Text

Severus and Draco agreed to meet at the staircase that connected dungeons to the part of the castle where Slughorn lived. There was this one benefit to living in a magical, sentient castle - it often created much needed spaces on it’s own whim.
Severus was as always, early. Pacing back and forth, he felt like a shy schoolboy, not a grown, powerful wizard. It infuriated him.

“Now, I am not much of an expert in courting, but you usually don’t win the girl by scowling.” Draco drawled, fashionably late, as always. He draped himself in a black Victorian suit, heavily embroidered with gold and silver threads. His legs clad in tight black velvet trousers, paired with leather knee high boots, Draco looked even taller than usual. His platinum hair fashionably mussed, a Venetian black leather mask on his face, he was elegance and mystery personified.
Of course the pompous ass would come looking like a prince charming, Severus though bitterly.
“What took you so long?” He barked at the boy.
“I had an idea. Here - “ Draco held out a mask, that would only cover one of Snape's eyes and half of his face. The brass mask piece was dark and engraved with what looked like ancient Greek symbols. Severus took it, held it to his face - it fit him perfectly.
“I figured since you will just be wearing your usual black frock and a cape, you could use a bit of fussing up.” Turning his wrist, another thing appeared in Draco’s palm. A brooch, made from the same darkened brass. It was a three headed dog. Cerberus. Reaching out, Draco pinned it to Snape's cape.
The man had been temporarily rendered speechless.
“That’s better.” He brushed off invisible lint of Snape's shoulder and turned on his heel. Severus ran a shaking hand through his hair. And marched upstairs to catch up with his Godson.
“It seems I keep thanking you today.” Another scowl.
“You made it yourself?”
“Yes… I like, well, I like to fiddle with designing things sometimes. I like being creative. It helps me cope… You know. With everything.”
“If you weren’t filthy rich already you could make a fortune doing this.” Severus commented, grateful something was taking his mind of Hermione.

They arrived at the party just early enough to greet everyone of any importance before taking up the strategic spot under the archway. He stood with his back against the stone wall, staring straight at the door. Severus was wound up with anticipation. How does he approach her? His subconscious woke, reminding Severus such a beautiful young woman would never willingly choose him.
Was it cruel that the fates chose such a vivacious, beautiful witch just for him? He was snarky and cold. But maybe he could be different with her, another voice in his head replied.
Maybe, he could let her in and allow himself to do everything he would want to do for his witch.
His witch.

As he waited for the party to wind up, Severus let his mind wander. He would want things to go normal, no matter how much the bond pulled at him. He would take Hermione for walks in the countryside, teach her a thing or two about collecting ingredients from the wild. Maybe he would show her some magical creatures along the way. Make a picnic of it, just like ones they had in the summer. He liked imagining walking trough the forest with her, hand in hand, or sitting under a tree, resting in companionable silence. He would take her to his cottage on the cliffs, cook dinner with her, spun her around the living room and take her for a ride on Franks old motorcycle. Severus was suddenly so caught up in his reveries, he did not notice Slughorn approach from the left.
“Severus, my boy! How are you holding up this year?” Years of espionage were the only thing that saved Severus from jumping out of his skin at that moment and hexing the old man in the process.
“Better than the last, it would seem. And you, Sir, no regrets on taking back the mantel of teaching Potions?” Severus replied reluctantly.
“Oh not at all. Retirement tends to get quite boring, if you don’t mind me saying so. Do not follow in my footsteps, Severus, you still have the youth and the looks to catch yourself a wife to grow old with.” The sluggish old man nodded wisely at his own words, his heavily decorated hat jumping with motion. Not expecting the conversation to take this turn, Severus just stared back.
“There is nothing wrong with looking at the pretty girls about to become of age, you know. They are probably more pliant to tend to your whims.” He paused.
“You are a wizard in his prime years now, Severus, do not waste them with your nose up a book or down a drain like I had.” Obviously decided he passed on the message, Slughorn moved on without waiting for a reply.

The old goat still talked for the sake of hearing his own voice, Severus thought to himself.
Then, the air changed. It was like a buzz, dulling all sensations to a background noise. He sensed her arrive before she even reached for the door handle. Severus saw Hermione walking into the overly decorated room, enlarged by magic. The vision she made knocked all air out of him. Her delicate, curvy figure clad in a pale green satin dress, her honey brown hair braided into a crown, decorated with pastel flowers and pearls. Little brass pomegranates sparkling at her earlobes, a matching pendant nestled just below her collar bone. The cut of Hermiones dress was once again, vintage. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, enhancing her features so subtly like it was made of pure magic. A heart shaped neckline was balanced out by long sleeves with a slit. The back of her dress was shaped like a keyhole, just one small button holding it together at the base of her neck. Long flowing skirt was covered with another layer of sheer fabric, sporting translucent shapes of a summer meadow.

Severus’s gaze trailed up to Hermiones whiskey eyes. They looked so big and dreamy with subtle make-up, her lips even a deeper shade of rose. Everything about her was soft, feminine, delicate. It was that moment, he just knew. He was doing this. He was claiming his little witch. He could scoop Hermione up then and there. Simply haul her into his private quarters, never to share with the rest of the world again. Who cares about the rest of the world anyway.

Hermiones breath hitched as she felt Severus turn to look at her. Something was different about him, and it definitely was not the ornate mask he was wearing. His black robes made him look tall and intimidating. His face gave away close to nothing, but his eyes held fire. It scorched her body as he let his gaze roam all over her figure. She stood there, starstruck.

Severus pushed himself of the wall, walking over the room with slow, confident strides. Than he was in front of her, bowing at his waist. “May I have the privilege to dance with you, Persephone?” His voice was low, meant only for her ears. Hermione rarely found herself at loss of words. But this did it. She felt herself nod, and suddenly Severus was up, sliding his hands around her waist, holding her close. Instead of leading her to the make shift dance floor, he spun her towards a secluded balcony, she had no idea was even there. The sun was setting, casting last licks of its fiery light to illuminate the scenery. For the next few minutes, they just danced in slow, languid motions of a waltz. Melody of some long forgotten piano piece floated through the open door. Their bodies moved with so much harmony, it was like they have done it countless times before. Hermiones head spun with questions she tried to quiet down so she could just enjoy the sense of his large palms around her waist.

“How come you chose to impersonate Persephone tonight?” He asked, his velvet voice caressing her ear.
“I’ve always loved that tale.” She said in a breathless voice.
“The part where she is the Goddess of all growing things, bringing new life and abundance, or the rest of it as well?”
She gave him a shy smile. It felt intimate to disclose her opinion.
“I actually love the entire myth. The fact she is both Goddess of Spring and the Queen of the Underworld? Marrying Hades - it gives such a beautiful contrasting duality to her. She holds both life and death in balance.” Hermione felt herself relax in his embrace, their bodies still swaying to the rhythm.
“I would think a modern young woman such as yourself would oppose to the idea of her being taken to the underworld by Hades. Away from everything she knew and loved, to become a wife. One might think her a slave to Hades whims.” He kept taunting her with his deep voice, looking into her eyes as if he was to find the answers there without her ever speaking another word.
“Not so modern. “ she did not look away. She knew in her heart this was what she had been waiting for all these weeks. He came to claim her.
“It is part of our nature to want to be desired, to be loved. In fact I believe she must have welcomed such love, even returned it.” She paused, taking a breath. “To have a man, a God - no less, desire you to the point he would fight the entire world to have you by his side… call me a fool but I cannot deny I would gladly be in her place.” She felt exposed, baring her thoughts to him like this. And the way he kept looking at her - it made her knees go weak. He held her even closer, molding her body to his.
“Who would have thought your studious mind allowed such depths for one to wander. Tell me then - in the realm of Hogwarts, who is your Hades?” Severus demanded.

His face was just inches away from hers now, his dark eyes never blinking. Hermione held a breath, brushing her fingertips over the three headed dog pinned to his chest. She whispered the truth that lived in her heart.
“You.”
There was a beat of silence, before he lowered his head. Pressing his forehead to hers, they both breathed heavily. The weight of their bond was pulsing through them with so many emotions. He slowly pressed his lips firmly against hers. Hermione eagerly opened up and his tongue slid against her own, licking her lavishly. He tasted of candied ginger. Sweet and spicy.
The kiss was so passionate and emotional it made her toes curl. She slid one arm into his black hair. Finally, Severus was kissing her. Kissing her like she belonged to him and him alone. The world around them no longer existed, it was just the two of them, melting into one another. The sky was already dark when they finally came up for air, none of them moved away.

Severus snaked his long fingers to the nape of her neck, cradling her head gently. Smiling at each other with heavy lidded eyes, they were content to just be.
“You’re my soulmate.” There were suddenly so many emotions overcoming him, Severus could barely breathe. But for the first time in his life, there was this deep sense of calm. It anchored him. She anchored him.
“I am sorry I made you wait for me.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before he moved away to look into her eyes.
“But I am not rushing you. I want to court you. Properly.” His forehead creased some as he let full force of emotions bloom on his usually stony face. Hermione was entranced by him so fully, she felt like swooning. His dark eyes never leaving hers when he spoke again.
“I would like us to have a sense of normality in all of this.” Hermione nodded slowly. She understood.
“Like any other couple, getting to know each other.” He was not pushing her away now, she knew. He was just being a normal, sensible person. It was different, it brought her such sense of inner peace. Her lips curled into a soft smile, as she pulled his head down for another decadent kiss.
“You should know...I honestly had feelings for you. Before this. Before... “ she trailed off. The sheer intensity of his gaze, while he curled his fingers into her side possessively, left her speechless.
“Say it,” he commanded her in low raspy voice.
“The truth. I want to hear all of it.” Hermione's voice was breathless from the force of emotions he ignited inside her. She was usually one to fight, not one to submit. But there was something in the way he said it. Like he needed her to open up.
“I... Oh, Gods. I’ve slowly been falling for you. For years.” All the pent up frustration was suddenly pouring out of her.
“I have yearned for you. For so long.” She whispered, unable to hold back a small sob.
“This summer? That week with you? It nearly killed me to be so close to you.” She finally confessed. That was it. She told him. It took Hermione all her Gryffindor stubbornness to look back up at him. She was so afraid. Of scarring him away with the force of her emotions.
Instead, he crashed his mouth back to hers with so much passion her head spun. Moaning into her mouth, Severus was drowning in the weight of her confession, pulling her down right alongside him.
“It was the same for me. I wanted you even when I had convinced myself I had no right to crave your presence.” He said at last when they came up for air.
“I never dared to hope to have this. To have you.” They fell silent. Holding each other close, reveling in the sense of chasing away the shadows. Of finally being together.
“We should go inside.” He whispered in her ear.
“It’s getting late.” Hermione looked up. The ink black sky was clear, crisp white stars beaming down on them.
“It’s so beautiful here.” She whispered back, afraid to speak up. It was like being loud again would break the spell they were under.
“You are. You are more beautiful than the sky and the stars, Hermione.” Severus's voice was solemn, as he spoke.
"I am your's." she said simply.
He stared at her for a while, unable to speak.
Mine, he thought.
Mine at last.

“You’re shivering, love. Let me take you back.”
“I don’t want this to end just yet.” Hermione decided it was best to be honest. She was barely holding back from clinging to his cloak like a needy child. She hated being childish.
“It won’t. I promise.” He sighed softly. Tilting her chin up with his finger.
“I. Am. Courting. You.” He drawled in his signature way of speaking. Shaking his head lightly.
“I cannot do that if I stay away.” Slowly walking back, he pulled her along.
“Come, let me get you something warm to drink.”
“You’re keeping me at your side...in public?” She eyed him warily. It was so much against the common sense to be seen together, it flustered her Severus had even suggested it.
“Don’t worry. I am a spy, remember?” Severus smirked at her, already leading her in.
“And you’re the brightest witch of her age. I am confident between the two of us, we will have no trouble fooling them. Besides,” he paused just for a heartbeat before they reentered the party.
“The best kept secret is no secret at all.”

When Draco saw them walking back in, he slowly dismantled the privacy wards his Godfather silently cast when he took Granger out to the balcony. They had been gone for so long he was beginning to worry. It was also simply annoying to feel this strange pain in his chest, seeing Hermione, so beautiful, beaming at another man.

He loved her enough to wish them happiness. Draco would not help Snape get her had he held grudges. But it was still hard. He kept himself busy by keeping an eye on McLaggen. The idiot was wearing some sparkly prince charming costume, his messy hair sporting a heavy golden crown. Draco frowned. The boy would be better off in a costume of a jester. A clown. That way he would at least have a justifiable reason for acting stupid. But McLaggen was far from being as stupid as he looked, Draco realized, and that made him more dangerous. The calculating bastard was circling Hermione from the moment she returned inside. Luckily she was at the arm of professor Snape.

When Draco approached, he heard Hermione say lightly to some nosy Ravenclaw
“I decided to accompany professor for the remainder of the evening since our costumes seem to match. What a coincidence.” There was just a hint of nonchalance in her voice. Draco smirked.
“Like my handiwork then, Granger?” He slid into the conversation seamlessly.
“Malfoy! What...You? You made this mask?” There was astonishment radiating of off her. Astonishment - but not rejection. Was the Gryffindor princess actually accepting his presence?
“Yes.” He replied simply. “I can be creative when there is a need for it.”
“This is serious craftsmanship!” Hermione was filled with honest interest.
“Which transfiguration process did you work by?”

What ever Draco expected, it was not for Hermione fucking Granger to just dive into complex transfiguration theory procedures debate. He found it oddly relaxing to have her questioning him like that. Like an equal. For that moment, he was not a pureblood Slytherin. He was not a Death eater turned spy. He was just a fellow wizard with proclivity for layering transfiguration charms to produce something useful. Snape had a funny look on his face, as he listened in on the conversation.
“Miss Granger does seem to have much proclivity to layer heavy transfiguration and make something useful yet beautiful.” Hermione beamed at his words.
“You should show Mr. Malfoy your enchanted coins.” Blushing, Hermione pulled one out of her pocket. It was a small thing, glinting in the decorative lights.
“I use it to communicate with friends, if need be. They are faster than owling.” There was a cute shyness coming over her now. Draco was so intrigued by the sheer brilliance of the idea he almost gaped. Slowly coming to his senses he started to fire questions at her. Professor Snape just chuckled.
“Who knew we could have a proper conversation, Granger.” Draco said at last.
“Maybe we finally matured to the point we no longer have use for being mortal enemies?” Hermione stated simply.

She was offering him an olive branch, Draco knew. After all the bullying, all the insults, she was waving the white flag after just one conversation. Who was he to refuse? Draco’s breeding kicked in. He took her hand and bowed his head in mock gesture of kissing her knuckles. He would not dare to actually kiss her like this, his Godfather might just skin him.
Instead, he straightened with all the dignity he possessed, and looked Granger in the eye.
“Truce.”

Her soft, accepting gaze was too much for him. He nodded a farewell to Snape and left abruptly.
Back in the privacy of his fourposter, he wrapped his pale arms around his torso. And sobbed quietly.

Cormac was circling around the party feeling annoyed. Hermione was late to Slughorn's party. He caught a glimpse of her when she arrived, sunset illuminating her vivacious dress. Cormac was awestruck, his skin prickled with delight. The anticipation of touching the skin on her back through that pretty keyhole slit, while he held her firmly… His thoughts wandered.

Maybe, she would dance with him. Press against him, maybe she would snog him, this time. If he behaved.
He hated to behave nicely.
He wanted to push her against the wall and just take. Take. Take. Take.

But then something weird happened. A dark tall wizard took her for a spin almost as soon as she arrived. And they were gone. They were gone for suspiciously long time before reentering the party. It shocked him to realize he did not recognize the person she was with. Not at first anyway. It was not a fellow student, as he assumed. It was Professor Snape himself.
Even now, Hermione stood by his side. Their ugly matching costumes looked like they belonged in a fucking museum.
Bloody nerds and their love for all things bloody academic. They were talking to Slughorn and Flitwick, even Trelawney joined in on their discussion. Hermione of course, had no trouble whatsoever to converse with them. Cormac? He did not know what to say to any of them even if he was simply questioned for a bloody mark. But no, not the Little Miss Prefect.

She had to outshine him. Inssufferable little know-it-all. Damn it. Damn it all.
Cormac was growing furious. Frustrated. This was not the way this party was supposed to go. Hermione was supposed to arrive at the party, than let him chase her for a while. It was a game, Cormac told himself. A fun game. She was like a little doe, taunting him. Always disappearing into the woodland shadows. And Cormac? He was the hunter. Ruthless and brave. He deserved his prize, did he not?

But little miss Prefect had ruined it all. Her constant rejection of his advances grew more insulting, now that he’d seen her accept another wizards attention. And an ugly, older man instead.
He did not get it. Cormac had it all - he was rich, he was gorgeous, he was a fucking pureblood! What else is there?
Associating with an old ugly half-blood. He would have to punish her for it. It did not take long for him to realize he would not get her alone this evening. He could not resist walking past her, running just a finger over that open back of her dress. Cormac almost got a hard at the sense of her silky smooth skin. But she shivered. Shook - as if disgusted. Cormac was outraged. She kept ruining things for him! She stepped towards Professor Snape and blushed fiercely, making enough room for Cormac to pass without having an excuse to keep touching her. Her entire body leaned as far away for him as possible. Cormac strode to the entryway.

Slamming the door behind him in a tantrum, he felt his entire body tense with frustration. He needed release. Desperately. Sulking, McLaggen went to find a girl that was willing enough, maybe also drunk enough to calm his nerves. There was always a desperate, lonely girl he would smooth talk into snogging and groping. Sometimes, he got lucky enough to get sucked off or jerked off. Gods, he liked that. Feeling a cheer roll over his previously sour mood, he walked into Gryffindor tower, feeling like a king. There was a fifth year with chocolate brown hair, falling down her back in a thick braid. Her eyes were dark and sad. Homesick? Heartbroken?

Cormac went for a drink and observed her. Then, he remembered she tried for the Gryffindor quidditch team. Successfully. There was a match coming up next weekend, maybe she was just nervous. He poured another cup of tea, laced it with some honey and a bit of fire whiskey he stole at the party. Cormac walked over to the girl with a wide, benevolent smile. But his eyes glinted with danger.

Hermione felt her entire body relax after McLaggen left the party. Gods she hoped he would leave her alone now. It was probably nearing midnight, when she caught Severus stealing glances at her.
They were still deep in academic debates, but with separate groups of people. Then, she felt his thoughts prod gently against hers.
“Are you alright?” His voice said softly. It was supposed to be weird, feeling him like this. But instead - it felt natural.
“Yes, just growing tired.” She felt the words on the tip of her tongue, but kept quiet.
“We better not leave together.” His voice replied.
“But I will find you once you are out in the hallway, should you manage to leave alone.”

This time, she just slightly nodded. To a bystander, the movement would be almost unnoticeable. But she felt Severus recognize her silent confirmation. Hermione could not explain it logically and for the first time, it did not bother her. Instead , she was allowing herself to simply marvel in the sensation of alignment between them.
It still took her about fifteen minutes to untangle herself from the conversation she was having with professors Flitwick and Vector. It felt gratifying to know she could have such relaxed conversations outside of classroom and for once, not come off as a teachers pet.

The hallways were dark but for the occasional torch on the wall. Hermione felt herself shiver. She was tired, she was cold, but it did not matter. Severus was waiting for her, somewhere along the way to the Gryffindor tower. Not knowing what to expect, she simply walked on, brushing her fingers over the cold stones. Most of the portraits were thankfully, asleep.
Just midway to her dormitories, she passed an alcove. She felt Severus reach for her outstretched hand, as he pulled her in. He was still disillusioned, so Hermione was able to feel him, smell him, but not see him. Once she was safely wrapped against his towering body, he whispered against her ear.
“I was hoping to get you alone.” He nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the floral scent she wore.
“Finite incantatem” she said softly against his chest. Hermione was still learning the basics of wandless magic, but thought she could manage this little spell. Severus appeared in front of her, looking ravenous. He crashed his lips on hers with such hunger, it left her gasping for air in mere moments.

She will be the death of him, Severus managed to think, while kissing her with so such gusto he could survive on her little whimpers alone. Hermione tasted of salted toffee and butterbeer. Her slender fingers gripped his cloak for balance. Severus thought, for the first time, how much taller he was. He slowed their kisses just a fraction, so he could enjoy the feel of her exposed skin under his fingertips, as he slowly slid one arm down her arching back, under her well rounded backside and lifted her up. He felt a shiver of pleasure run through her. Hermiones back was against the wall, the rough fabric of the tapestry digging into her bare skin, but she did not mind. Severus was still holding her up, one strong arm wrapped around her buttocks, the other on the wall to balance them. Hermione felt feather light in his strong embrace. Their tongues danced, their long hungry kisses became more languid as he nipped and sucked at her lower lip. There was a sated smile on his complicated face, as he pulled away just for an inch. She could hardly see him in the darkness that cloaked their figures. But seeing him smile so openly, melted her.
“When will I see you again?” She said into the darkness, feeling a little hopeless, knowing they would soon part.
“I can manage to leave for the afternoon tomorrow…” he paused, and Hermione realized he was a little shy.
“…or maybe the entire Sunday, if you would be amenable to come away with me?”
“I would love that.” She smiled back.

They would spent most of the weekend together. It calmed her enough she let go of his cloak. He carefully placed her back on her feet. Leaning into his side, his strong arm around her shoulders, they walked back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The matron was luckily, asleep, so Severus was free to bend down and kiss her goodnight. He placed his long fingers under her chin and tilted her head. He kissed the corner of her lips, oh so gently.

“Stay safe, love.” Were his parting words, but instead of saying them, his voice was in her head. Hermione did not know when she closed her eyes, to enjoy the sensations. But when she opened them, he was already gone.

Chapter Text

Some might say, Severus Snape had slight problems with obsessive behaviour. Especially when it came to Hermione Granger. 
His first obsession was observing how her mind worked tirelessly at new challenges. The second obsession was watching Hermione blossom, her beauty becoming more and more captivating each time he stole glances of her face, her figure. The third obsession was covertly trying to find ways to be around her, never truly allowing himself to believe anything would ever be possible between them. With the bond igniting and forging the path for their future together, Severus developed the fourth obsession - making sure they were safe. 
With Halloween come and gone, he realised he had developed the fifth obsession. Learning what made Hermione smile, what made her swoon. Thinking about the way her body pressed against him, how her skin felt under his fingers, Severus had to admit to himself. How to give her pleasure had joined the list. 

Severus was not one to lay around in the morning. But at this early Saturday hour, he simply closed his eyes and went through all the memories of yesterday. He knew he had to file them away, carefully creating new spaces and new protections inside his own mind, to keep his relationship with Hermione safe. To keep himself calm. 

The first light trickled through the window in his bedroom that, much like the Slytherin common room, faced the depths of the Black lake. It always calmed him to be able to look at the water, with its ever changing motions. There was a deeper calm in him now. He had a soulmate; his brilliant, gorgeous little witch. Severus was mad about her. 

It was one thing, to admire her from afar. Another thing completely to have Hermione in his arms, so willing. So warm. She had felt so good, her soft curves pressed against him, her delicious lips kissing him back with passion equal to his own. 



Not for the first time, Severus regretted taking so long to move forward with her. Knowing himself, he realised he'd hardly be able to relax around her, had he not satisfied his fourth obsession first. But she seemed not to hold any grudges. No, Hermione already seemed to understand him better than it would be expected after such short period. Was it really that short, though?

He thought of Hermione's sweet confession. She admitted to having feelings for him long before the bond ignited. Maybe, Severus thought reverently, maybe they would find a way to each other either way. The soulmates bond they shared just gave them an opening neither of them knew they needed. 

He sure as Hell needed it to convince himself not to sign off on his own life as he did before.


Getting out of bed and through his usual morning rituals, Severus thought it calmed him even more to know Hermione was not only compelled to be with him because of the bond. For the first time in months, the voices in his head remained quiet. There was clarity in him now. 

Severus decided to share everything with her. There would be no secrets, no illusions. Not with Hermione. They had a lot of things to talk about, of that he was sure. What he also wanted was to simply spend time with his little witch, take her away to show her the hidden treasures of the country, create little yet significant memories of simply being there together. 


“Posy!” He called out. 

The little elf in a teal checkered washcloth appeared with a loud crack. 
 “Master called Posy?” She squeaked giddily.
“I am coming to the cottage sometime in the afternoon. I will have company.” He stated firmly.


The elf almost fainted with delight.
“A lady guest, master?” 

“Yes, ah. There is another thing, now that I thought of it.” Posy has never seen her master so confused.
“I need a bouquet of flowers from the cottage garden, I am sure some are still blooming.”

Posys eyes grew wide as saucers. 

“Oh - is master in courting?” She squealed. “Posy will have a mistress to tend to!” Posy was dancing in place and Severus watched her with amusement. 

“Posy?” He interrupted her after a few moments. 
The elf stopped twirling, remembering her orders. 

“Oh yes, Sir - right away, Sir!” She was gone, her crack even louder than the one she came in with.
Severus was still chucking as he wrote a short letter to Hermione. She was still asleep. He exhausted her last night. She was having a pleasant dream, probably for the first time in weeks. The anxiety over their bond finally gave way to the light magic calling them together. 
Severus would not wake her with his thoughts prodding in her pretty head. A quill in his hand, he began to write. 

My sweet Persephone, 

I had a wonderful time last night. Meet me at the stone wall near the whomping willow around three o’clock. 

I am stealing you away from the prying eyes at the castle, little witch. We can spend the rest of the weekend somewhere we can be ourselves.
Love, Hades

Quickly transfiguring the small letter into a shape of a paper blossom, sealing the bottom with his signature in green wax, Severus called for Cerberus. The black bird took it with his beak instead of tallons, and flew off in an instant. 



Hermione woke up late, the warm rays of autumn sun dancing over her face. She accidentally fell asleep with her canopy curtains wide open. It was past midnight when she got in. The other girls were already asleep, so she had to cast a silencing charm on herself in order not to wake the entire room while dissembling her costume. It took her at least another twenty minutes or so, before she managed to unpin all the flowers and pearls, slide out of her dress and dismiss the sticking charm on her breasts. The open back of her dress allowed no bra and her bouncy breasts were a testament to gravity. Thankfully, Lavender saved her with a few well placed enchantments. 

Now, Hermione was laying in her soft bed, only her toes and her nose peeking out of the soft cream covers printed with little pink rose buds. She was wearing her favourite t-shirt of Pink Floyd, a pair of plain black cotton knickers and some soft knee-high socks. Instead of getting straight up and rushing forward with her errands, Hermione closed her eyes and looked for him.
Severus.
He finally came for her. Gods, being with him was the most magical thing she could experience. And who knew the dark potions master could kiss like that? Hermione often fantasised about those lips. They looked so soft when he was not pinching them into one of his infamous scowls.
He was already at the great hall, she realised. Just arrived, but still. She could feel him smile secretly to himself. 

“Good morning, love.” His voice purred.

It melted through her like liquid gold. Hermione pinched her eyes shut, trying to keep close to him. 

“Good morning.” She replied, filling the thought with the sun on her skin, her smile spreading through their connection instead of on her face. 

“Look out the window.” Was his immediate reply, his deep voice caressing her a moment longer. 
She walked to the one closest to her bed, and saw Cerberus waiting outside, a paper flower in its beak. The Highland wind tangled into her mass of curls as the big black bird entered the room. 

Hermione did not have her own owl, just Crookshanks, who was still sleeping on her unmade bed. The orange beast opened one yellow eye and looked straight at the black bird his mistress was now feeding. The two animals exchanged what appeared to be a polite yet stiff greeting. Cerberus had the decency to take off afterwards and the cat purred happily once more. 
Hermione was glad she was the only one in the room. She sat back on her bed and held the paper flower gently. It smelled of him. Of potion fumes, herbs and bergamot. As she stroked the flower with her fingers, she realised it held a wax seal on the bottom. Tapping it gently with her wand, it unraveled itself into a letter.
Hermione almost squealed with delight. Not only did Severus mean what he said yesterday - he was moving fast. A day and a half? Away from Hogwarts?
He must have a property of his own, she thought to herself. And by the way he was kissing her...maybe he wanted more? Is that why they would stay the night? He was a grown man, thats for sure. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that she is completely inexperienced. Hermione stopped herself in her tracks. 

As she quickly readied herself for the day, hoping to catch him sitting at breakfast, she decided firmly on not driving herself crazy thinking about sex. Sex with Professor Snape. With Severus. 
Oh, sweet Circe. 


Hermione entered the Great Hall just fast enough to catch the final fifteen minutes of breakfast. Severus's dark eyes were on her the minute she walked through the door. His gaze displayed such emotional intensity, it made her knees go weak. But his face remained serious. Hermione melted at the thought of being the only one to know the man within and boy, did he know it. 
Another washed out pair of jeans clung to her curves, her usual brown lace up boots and a dark green cable knit sweater keeping her warm. Her beloved sage green muslin shirt was just long enough to peek out. Hermione let hair fall softly around her face and curl down to the waist.
Severus could eat her like a creme puff. He was so crazy for her. 
He pretended to read while waiting for Hermione to finish up. 

When their eyes met again, she allowed him to feel her excitement about their date. Holding her little worries in check, she didn't know Severus could still feel them. Not fully, just enough to know they existed. He wondered what they were.
Hermione felt jumpy. It would only be a few hours, so she went back up. Resolved to pack her beloved brown leather bag with some essentials was the first thing on her mind, since Hermione knew the task would help her calm some. She could not forego a book she was currently reading - another one to suggest to Severus, if he was amenable. A notepad she always kept. A muggle pen. Some money. Her DADA coin. A wand stuck in her hair, Hermione perused the wardrobe. It would be easier to pair these jeans with another turtleneck. Fresh socks and underwear.
Shit. Underwear.
Hermione quickly summoned her nicest matching set of petrol green lace. It was one of her favourite colours, since it went so well with her complexion and her hair. Hermione was by no means vain, but she still liked to be well dressed and comfortable. Fuck. She had to stop thinking about sex.
Trying not to drive herself crazy, she packed her toothbrush. A pretty new sleepwear set Ginny gave her as a birthday present. Sticking with the "prepared for everything" idea, she sprayed her clothes with perfume and put the pile under stasis charm before shrinking it to fit into the bag.
Satisfied with a chore being done, she glanced at her wristwatch. It was small and classy. The silver circular frame held a cream coloured dial, a thin brown leather strap fastening it on her wrist. It was one of her many remainders of her muggleborn heritage. Hermione wore it proudly.
The little dials said it was only half past ten. Looking begrudgingly at the dial, Hermione resolved to go to the library for the rest of time before she was off to meet Severus. 
If she managed to research some more, it just might take her mind off of the upcoming
date. Just when she was about to leave the tower, that she ran into Ginny, who was surprisingly alone. 

The redhead looked her up and down. 

“Looking good, Granger. Wanna come with me? I am just grabbing some stuff then heading out to the quidditch pitch. Harry and Ron are down there, practicing for the match next week.”
“No, sorry, I'm going to the library. I will be heading home to my parents in the afternoon, I already packed.” Hermione started lying and realised, it was not so bad. She’d just have to practice. 

Ginny stared at her. 

“You’re serious? Alright then.” There was a little naughty glint in Ginnys eyes.

“Then at least talk to me for a few minutes before you run off.”

Feeling a little guilty, Hermione complied. “Okay, sure.”

”The Slughorn party.”

“Wha-what about it?” Hermione gaped. Did something happen while she was focused on being with Severus?

“Well, the tall, dark and dangerous professor sure kept you close yesterday.”

Shit. Play it cool, Hermione told herself. 
“Yeah well..you know. I sort of talked him into it. McLaggen kept running after me. And being next to Sev...Snape kept him at bay.” It was the easiest explanation. 

“Did you just want to say Severus? Shit girl, thats how dad and Dumbledore call him, not us.” Ginny looked a bit surprised, but not in a bad way.

Hermione had to save the conversation quickly, so she decided to modify the truth just enough so her friend would let her be. If she did this right, Ginny might even be her confidante, someone to cover for her. She needed that, or else she’d be in trouble fast. 
 “Oh..well. I better tell you then. Can we go to your room maybe? I don’t want people to listen in.” Hermione looked around apologetically. 

“Sure, whatever.” 

As soon as they stepped inside the girls room, Ginny shot out.

“Hermione, are - shit - are you maybe having a crush on him, or something? 'Cause. Well I think it would sort of be normal. You both being so bookish and freakishly smart and all.”
 Oh, this was what she needed, Hermione thought and jumped at it. 

“Yes, Ginny - I do. I think, I might even be in love with him. Gods, it’s so hard to explain.” Ginny was looking at her with a thoughtful expression.
“You two did spend a lot of time together. Back in the summer. I always felt like maybe, he likes you too. Is that why you were with him, yesterday?” Ginnys eyes were mere slits now, waving a flag of suspicion. 

“Him and I...Ginny please don't tell anyone! He is courting me.That’s why I am taking NEWTs at the end of school year.”

Ginnys eyes were wide as saucers now. “You’re taking NEWTs a year early? No wonder you spend all your time in the library!”

Hermione felt awkward.
“You did not comment on the whole ‘courtship’ thing.” She mentioned to the witch. 

“I mean. I get why you’re keeping it a secret. I like that he is respecting your position as a student. Is he helping you study as well?” The redhead paused before suddenly exploding.  “Man, I live to see the day you marry professor Snape. Harry and Ron will go batshit crazy!”
The two looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

“I should have known you would go ‘all in’ once you find someone who fits that overly active brain of yours.” Ginny commented, laughing still. 

“It’s hard to explain, you know. I think talking to him about academic stuff is just as natural to me as quidditch is to you." Hermione sighed. She glanced at her watch. 

“You’re not really going to see you’re parents, are you? You’re going off with him.”

Ginny grew serious. 

“It’s just a date. Spending time together where we don’t have to worry about gossip.” Hermione shrugged. 

“For almost two days?” 

“No, I am heading home after. Seeing him again tomorrow. I think...” Hermione smiled shyly. 

“Holy fucking Merlin. Hermione, you’re dating Snape!” 

“Shut up - you can’t tell anyone ok? I need a wand oath, Ginny, this is too important to mess around.” Suddenly worried, Hermione wondered if she said too much. 
“Are you kidding me? I am not telling a soul. I am on the inside of the sweetest secret in this school and I am loving it!” 
Ginny took her wand and solemnly swore herself to secrecy, a little devilish smile making her look a lot like the twins.
Relief flooded over Hermione. 

“You’ll cover for me then? Please?” She attempted to turn pleading puppy eyes at Ginny.

“Sure I will. But I want the tea when you get back.” 

“Monday, before breakfast. Deal?” Hermione was certain she handled this well. 

“Deal.” Ginny grinned at her before rushing off to the quidditch pitch.

Somehow, Severus made it to one o’clock without clawing at the walls with anxiety. Yes, he had a lot of plans and a lot of preparations to make. The time still passed on sluggishly slow. He managed to brew one more batch of potions for Voldemort and one batch of their counter cures for the Order. Sweaty from heavy work, he showered and shaved. Changed his clothes at least three times, not that anyone had to know about that. He even graded papers and read through a pile of homework. 
But Severus did not remember a word of any of it. His mind was preoccupied with a pretty witch he would spend the rest of the weekend with.
No. Correcting himself, a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. The witch he would spend the rest of his life with. Today was just the first day in the line of many.

Severus stole one last glance in the mirror. He wore black muggle jeans, dragonhide boots and a comfortable black sweater with a round neck line. He pulled on his old leather jacket. It was the one Frank gave him about twenty years ago, when Severus got the licence to drive a motorcycle.

He was just early enough to put his office back in order with some well placed charms, when a knock came to the door. 
Severus knew that short, sharp wrap of a fist. It was Malfoy. 
 

“Enter.” He barked out. 

Malfoy shut the door behind him, taking in the man in front of him. In jeans and leather, Snape looked like a proper muggle. His tall frame was fit and for the first time, Draco thought, Snape was actually quite young. The rest of the Death Eaters wouldn't believe the sight of him.
“What do you need?” The tall wizard bit out.
“Sorry. I just wanted to pass an idea by you. But you seem to be going somewhere?” 
 Snape was looking at him like he is taking his measure. Whatever for, Draco did not know. He just hoped it was not his coffin.
“I am taking Hermione out. Now, what idea?” He ground out reluctantly.

“Sweet Salazar, you really waste no time now do you?” Draco paused, feeling brave.
“I am fixing the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement. You know, for what Voldemort is planning. I think I could finish it until Christmas, but I want to stall with that until later. I don't want it to happen any sooner then neccessary. Do you think I could manage that?” 

Growing serious at the mere thought of knowing exactly how the war will begin, Draco ran his pale fingers through his already dishellved hair.
“We must stall until after you turn of age, Draco. I want you and others at least pass the exams at the end of the school year.” 
Snape was quiet, and dangerous with it.
“But how are we stalling until June? Won’t the Dark lord be furious?” Draco's face went paler, if that was even possible.

“Of course he will be. But we will redirect him, point to the patsy. Whatever it takes.” Severus paused, seeing the boy shake with nerves.

“You have every right to fear him, Draco, there is no shame in that.” Severus knew what it was like. Draco would find no judgement here.

“You don’t seem to fear him.” Draco said stubbornly.
“I would be a fool not to. But I had decades of practice on how to manage it. Draco, I...” Severus had to quell his own frustration.
“...I vowed to help you, Draco. I promised to guide you through the espionage act because it’s what we do. We try to balance it out by what ever means we have at our disposal.” 

“You mean we make our plans as we go?” Draco said incredulously. 

“Yes, sometimes that is the only way. It’s good that you are resorceful. Creative. You have already proven yourself a natural for the role.” Snape was usually snappy and scarce with empathy, let alone encouragement. Draco just stared for a moment. 

“She really affects you that much already?” He dared ask.

Snape's eyes lit with a fire Draco had never seen in the man before and found himself astonished to be trusted to witness it. Severus Snape was not one to show unfiltered emotions on a whim
.
“I am telling you this once, for the sake of you being my Godson and now unofficially, my apprentice.” Snape held his gaze, his voice growing annoyed. 

“I never lived. At least not until now. I survived. I used being a spy as a pitiful excuse for the way I treated myself. Now she’s here. I need to make a life that will be enough for both of us.” Snape looked at his wristwatch and stood up.

“I need you to leave. You can be my eyes and ears in the meantime.” 

Draco watched as his Godfather get up, looking more nervous than when they spoke of Voldemort. It would make him chuckle if it was not so shocking. 

“Have a pleasant date, Godfather.” Draco said at last, leaving the door open as he left. 

Severus disillusioned himself the minute he was alone. Breathing deeply, he too, walked out.

Severus got to the stone wall almost half an hour too early. Casting some heavy notice- me-not spells, he called for his little elf. 

Posy came in with an enthusiastic crack. 

“Everything is ready for you master!” She chimed, her ears flapping with excitement. 
 Severus looked at the bouquet Posy made for Hermione. It was full of autumnal wildflowers and healing herbs. It looked wild and beautiful, a vast collection of radiant colours. Severus felt a smile tug at his lips.
“She will love this, Posy, thank you.”

His voice was reverent and Posy hugged her master. Then with another crack, she was gone. 

Severus spent a while just looking at the flowers in his hands. He could name all of them, knew how to use them. He knew their secret love language and how it spoke of trust, of hope, of healing and of love. He had never before given flowers to any other woman but his mother.
Opening one of the books Hermione recommended back in the summer, Severus resolved to wait for her.

It was a warm autumn afternoon, the sun was high and Hermione was hoping being early would prove to Severus just how eager she was to be alone with him. Wind swept through her mass of curls as she walked down to the whomping willow. With each step forward, her nerves dissipated a little. With each step, her insides ignited with excitement.
When Hermione got closer to their meeting point, his privacy wards let her through and suddenly - there he was.
Leaning against the old stone wall, a thick book in his hand. She paused her step, just for a moment, to take in the image. Her heart skipped a beat. Hermione wanted to remember this forever. His long black windswept hair. His wide shoulders in a leather jacket. The way his eyes widened as he sensed her come through the wards. How he put aside the book and just stood there, waiting. A crooked smile curving his lips. 


Hermione ran into his arms. Severus caught her and pulled her up for a kiss. Placing her to sit on the stone wall, their heads were almost equal hight, but Hermione kept tugging at his jacket, not letting him ease away. Her kisses were a testament to her excitement, her joy. 

A deep, growling “Mmph” was the only sound Severus was able to make, when she nipped his bottom lip playfully, tangling her body around him. It took them a while to calm down, to say the least. The last kisses were slow and sweet, before he nudged at her with his nose and stared into those pretty whiskey eyes. 

“I had to kiss you.” She whispered breathlessly.
“The mere thought of it drives me crazy. Waiting for it any longer...I’d be rendered incoherent.” There was a wild, unexpected laughter in her voice. 
Severus kissed the top of her head. 

“Never apologise for kissing me like that, love.”
Hearing him call her that - it filled Hermione with an all encompassing joy. 

She buried her face into the flowers he suddenly offered. Hermione beamed at him so brightly, Severus thought with so much sunshine inside her, they’d never again have a day of gloom. 

When they disapparated, Hermione clung to him firmly, her curly head resting on his chest. At last, none of them had to pretend any longer.
They were in love.

Severus took them to a deep forest Hermione couldn't recognise. The creek was rumbling nearby, the birds were chirping above their heads. He offered her a hand. 

“Come, I wanted to show you this for weeks now.” He sounded almost boyish, caught somewhere between shyness and excitement. Hermione just smiled and followed. 

There was a narrow path they followed, bowing under fallen trees or jumping over a stream, until finally, they stopped. There it was - in the middle of nowhere. A rumbling castle, hidden in the midst of a thick autumn forest. It was hard to tell which was older - the trees or the castle. 

Hermione held her breath, her mind shifting into a much higher gear. 

“Is this what I think it is?” She looked up at Severus incredulously. 

“Yes. Its the castle from the book you recommended. That murder mystery with a hint of fiction.” Severus paused. 

“Castles crumbling, wasn’t it? By C. P. Herondale.”

“Thats’s the one!” Hermione was overjoyed. “It’s one of my favourite books!”

“Hermione? Every book is your favourite book.” Severus shook his head chuckling. 

“True.” She chuckled too.
“But - that is one of the favourite-favourites! I have the authors signed copy. My Godmother Violet took me to a book festival about two summers back to get it signed.” Severus let her ramble on about the book and the history of the castle they were now exploring. He was absorbing her every word. Every gesture. He would need it, he thought, this knowledge of her, to be a good life partner.
A good husband. 

It rattled him a little, to take in the image of Hermione, walking up a rambling stone staircase of an ancient turret, thinking that gorgeous young witch is his future wife. A cloud that was covering most of the sun, dissipated a little and the golden rays of light slid down from the sky, illuminating the sight in front of him. She turned to see what was holding him behind and smiled.

Severus nearly fell to his knees. Never in his life had he expected to feel so blessed. He knew before the day was out, they’d have to have a serious conversation about everything that was ahead of them. But for now, Severus decided, he had to let it be. For a few hours more, they could just enjoy themselves. Deep down, he filed away this moment as one of the sacred ones.

Hermione was brimming with euphoria. Gone was the plan of behaving like a sophisticated young witch. First, the kisses, then the flowers, now this?! Severus blew her mind with taking her to the ruins of the castle that inspired one of her favourite books. A book they could actually talk about, since he had read it too. She marvelled at the fact he had most likely read through her entire book list. Was now rereading some of the books he enjoyed most. Feeling grateful, Hermione thanked the fates for finding such a perfect man for her.

Severus was still a bit quiet. Hermione felt there were many thoughts racing inside of his head, many emotions brewing. He was not holding it in on purpose, it was just how he was. A complicated, quiet and - she only just discovered this - a little shy. But good Godric, when she managed to crack him a little, did he become radiant. The intensity that usually only clung to his eyes, now resided in his crooked smiles, a low rumbling laughter. A playful remark he gave her every once in a while.
The castle was at least eight hundred years old, and in pretty bad condition. Most of it was practically in ruins, covered with moss. A mess of trees and shrubs grew from random places. Odd branches snaked their way through an archway here, a crack in the wall there. Hermione loved it. 

She left to see the tallest tower left standing. There were stone steps, leading her up to the second story alcove. It even had a small window. It was gloomy and slippery with all the accumulated humidity. Hermione realised two things at once. First, Severus did not follow her up for whatever reason. Second, this was the exact room in the castle that inspired the scariest scene in the book. Hermione's mind whirled with images. The heroine was being chased by the murderer, the same man that was responsible for killing her ancestors. This is where the woman ran to, only to realise she ran to a place with no possible escape. Just when she peeked out of the little window to imagine how the woman in the book felt, looking down at the rocks far below, large hands came around her waist, a heavy body pinning her to the thick wall. 


“Argh!” Hermione squealed so loudly it echoed through the entire castle. Severus held her close, and nuzzled into the nape of her neck. Just a hint of teeth scraped at the tender skin already prickled with goosebumps. His whole body shook with his thunderous laughter. 
 “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He barely got the words out between the fits of laughter. 

Hermione turned her head just enough to look him in the eye, mimicking his usual raised eyebrow. 

“Oh, it’s alright. I will take great pleasure in getting even.” She smirked, her voice laced with mischief. 

Severus pulled at her hair gently, bowing her head backwards so he was able to kiss her. Her body was still facing away from him and he felt her hips press backward as she leaned her torso and arms against the wall for support. The kiss scorched at them, a fire roaring in their veins. Just like the villain in the story, he too felt the pull of the darkness skirting around the edges of his mind as he gave into the pleasure of Hermione's body pressing into him. Unlike the book, the witch in his hands was pliant and willing. That, Severus thought, was even more dangerous for his ability to control himself. He felt his cock growing rock hard at the pressure her sweet rounded arse was indulging him in. Severus tried to pull back. He sincerely worried that too much too soon would scare her. 


Hermione had other plans. She arched further back and ground against him, seeking that sweet friction. If this is what real arousal felt like, she never wanted to let go. It was molten gold, coursing through her veins. Her mind going lax, her body hot. It was one thing to fantasise, to dream. But to feel his hard length pressing into her like that - it was too much. The man was well endowed, to say the least.
“Gods, woman!” He ground out between his teeth, hissing when she increased the force with which she ground against him. Hermione moaned into his mouth. 

Severus bit her bottom lip and let go of her, just enough so he was able to lift her up against the crumbling stone wall. Hermione was on him in a second, wrapping her legs around his hips, her fingers tangled in his black hair, pulling him down for another hungry kiss.
Severus felt his control fringing, his fifth obsession taking him under. Her pleasure.
He needed to bring her pleasure. 
His hands grabbed the mounds of her butt, long fingers digging in to keep her in place. She panted and whined so prettily as he sucked at her lip, at her tongue. The hard seam of her jeans rubbed at her clit as Severus rolled his hips, again and again. He allowed himself to enter her mind, his own pleasure and need to sate his witch tangling with all that she already felt. 
Licking his way down her jaw, pulling her head back, and teasing the gentle skin of her neck, Severus gave in to the urge to mark her. Hermione's frantic pulse under his lips was calling to him and it pleased him immensely to know she actually hoped he wouldn't stop. Sucking on the milk white flesh sent tendrils of heat racing straight to her core, her hips jerking involuntarily. The love bite bloomed on her skin as she began to give in. 
Could he make her unravel like this, without even getting her naked? 
Severus felt her entire body coil up at the thought, only just learning they shared it. 
“Let go, little witch.” He whispered in a low, seductive voice. “Come for me.” 


Hermione’s orgasm sent pleasure spreading from her throbbing clit and rippling through her body as Severus pressed his impressive hardness at just the right spot.
He held her close, revelling in the strong sensations that flowed through their mental connection. He watched her face in awe, how her breath hitched, how her bottom lip trembled, how her nose scrunched just a little.
Severus almost came with her, had barely managed to hold back a rapidly approaching orgasm of his own.
Instead of chasing the pleasure, Severus held Hermione close, wrapped safely against his strong torso. He allowed the lightness of the emotions swirling through them chase away the dark licks of power that never fully subsided. 


Hermione was in Heaven. Her whole body, whole mind mellow with the pleasure still radiating through her entire being.

“You’re mine, Hermione. I am never letting you go.” He whispered softly.

She sighed happily. 

“As you are mine.” Rubbing her face against his chest, she inhaled deeply. Severus's scent was already like a drug to her. Then she felt his half hard cock twitch in his jeans. 

“Shit. You...you didn’t? Why?” Hermione's eyes grew wide as saucers. 

Severus looked into her eyes.
“Honestly? I wanted to enjoy watching you.” He paused, deep in thought. Hermione held back, knowing he was likely to elaborate. 

“I don’t want to take what we have for granted, because of the bond. Rushing things will not give us the proper foundation. I want to experience everything fully, so I can remember it one day. First times are so precious. You only get to do them once.”
 Hermione kissed his cheek, then pressed her forehead to his. 

“Alright. Good point, actually. But - I might steal it at a later time, so you can’t be mad at me if I ever use it in an argument.” A sly smile spread across her lips. Severus thought she rather looked like a cat with a canary. 

“Why, Miss Granger. I believe you might just have a little bit of Slytherin inside of you.” He chuckled, his imperious black eyebrow raised.

Hermione pushed her hips forward again, still able to feel his arousal, even more so with her messy wet knickers. 

“I believe I might get more Slytherin inside me, soon.” 

Severus almost choked at her comment. 

“Gods, witch, are you trying to kill me?” 

She just laughed, gripping his leather jacket for balance as she slid her legs down slowly.
“No, Sir. But I do look forward to living with you.” She winked. And walked off, leaving
Severus gaping after her.
“I must remember you’re playful after you come.” He finally managed. 


They spoke of everything and nothing for awhile. They walked around the forest, surrounding the castle. Severus pointed to a plant here, an animal there. He was like a walking library, knowing everything about just about anything. Hermione was not far behind, but she still marvelled at his vast knowledge. She realised, not for the first time, Severus equalled, if not surpassed her intellect. Instead of competition or humiliation, she felt proud. And oh, so grateful. 


They came to a river and sat on some rocks, just looking in the distance, quiet and content. Hermiones head was resting on Severuses shoulder, her entire body snuggled into him. A rumbling of her empty stomach interrupted their moment of tranquility.
“I must feed you, little witch. We never spoke of plans for this weekend. I thought...“ he paused, suddenly looking a bit nervous. 

“...I thought I would take you to the cottage I own. We could dine there. Stay there.”
And see how that goes, he thought to himself. Maybe she’d hate the house...or the idea of spending the night there would make her uncomfortable. Maybe - shit. He was making himself crazy. 

Hermione saw the anxiety wash over him, and stroked his back. 

“Look at me, my love.” She beckoned. 

Straightening up a bit, she took his face in her hands and stared into his dark eyes. 

“It’s just me, Severus. It’s alright.” Caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers, she cooed gently. 

“Feel the way I touch you. Just be here with me. That’s enough. That you’re here with me.” She kissed him sweetly. It was an innocent kiss, one that spoke of warmth and empathy.
Severus relaxed into her touch. When he felt himself calm completely, he stood up, taking her by her hand. “Come here.”
Thinking back on all the summer days not so long ago, when being together with Hermione was nothing but a dream, Severus realised the reality of what they shared was for the first time in his life better then anything he had ever dreamed of. Severus knew he was a powerful wizard, yet with Hermione at his side, he felt invincible. When her gentle hands were snuggly wrapped around him, he called out proudly, a picture of his beloved cliffs at the forefront of his mind.
“The Cliffside cottage.”

Chapter Text

The crack of apparation echoed through the vast empty landscape. There were no houses in the vicinity. Just a bright gravel road, surrounded by a field of long stemmed grass that seemed to end as it met the horizon. Further ahead, they could see the gulf round up and the rocks tower above the deep blue sea. They truly were at the cliffs. Taking deep gulps of salty air, Hermione felt like flying with the wind that swept at her.
Severus simply laced his long fingers through hers and lead the way.
“Is this Northern Scotland?” Hermione asked. Severus nodded slightly in confirmation.
“Just South West to Cape Wrath.” They walked roughly two minutes uphill towards what looked like the end of the world and yet, there was not a single sign of a house anywhere in the area.
Severus stopped. He let go of Hermione’s hand and told her to open it. She didn’t notice the small piece of parchment he pressed into her palm, not until she did as he asked.
It read:
“Severus Snape lives at the Cliffside cottage on White Heather road 57, Cape Wrath.”
Hermione murmured the words as she read them and watched in awe as the mirage in front of her slowly dissipated.

The stone cottage was painted white. It had a wooden front porch and a narrow, dark gray roof. The wooden window shutters were probably painted in the deep sea green once upon a time, but the harsh weather had washed out it splendor to a light teal. Everything seemed to need a new coat of varnish and Hermione could already feel her fingers itch. The house was quite big for a cottage, with its two stories and quite an elaborate layout. Spread from the white picket fence to the gray stone paths that wound their way around the house were plants of all shapes and sizes. A thick branch of ivy climbed up the wall and Hermione wondered, if she’d find a small kitchen garden on the other side of the cottage.
For a few quiet moments, they only stood there in silence. Then, Hermione lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she felt a little tear prickle in the corner of her eye. This was the exact cottage she had dreamed of since she was a little girl.
Severus snaked his hand around her waist and resolved to rest his chin on the top of her curls.
“This is so crazy. I know this house, Severus. I’ve dreamed about living in it since I was a child.” she admitted quietly.
Severus felt relief wash over him and join the whirlwind of emotions he felt crashing over her. It gave him an opening to catch small glimpses of all the hopes and dreams she’d pour into the idea of this cottage through the years. Suddenly he felt confident in his choice of the property. All the worries she’d prefer a bigger, better and more luxurious house flew out of his mind.
“It’s not crazy.” He stated simply and swept Hermione off her feet.
Severus carried her inside like a bride, wandlessly opening the door for them and then kicking them shut with his black boot. The contrast between using a well refined magic and rough muggle methods made Hermione squeeze him tighter and giggle into his neck.
He refused to let her down once they were inside, and instead bowed his head for a sweet kiss.
“Will you make a home with me here, little witch?” he said against her lips, a soft smile dancing over his sharp features.
“Yes. Yes, I will.” she replied somewhere between the kisses that followed.
“Master?” squeaked a tiny chime like voice far below them.
Hermione almost crawled at the ceiling with shock, but Severus simply squeezed her thigh reassuringly.
“Hello, Posy. Are we late for dinner?”
“No Master, just in time you are!” The little elf hopped in place, her fresh flowery washcloth tucked around the small figure like a summer dress.
“May Posy meet the Mistress?” she enquired curiously.
“Hi, I’m Hermione. What a lovely name you have.” Hermione waved at the elf since she was not exactly in a position for anything else.
“We’ll be right along, Posy. Thank you.” Severus replied afterwards.

The creature beamed and waved back, before hopping her way back in the direction of where Hermione guessed was the kitchen.
Severus slowly let her down on her feet, and as they shed their muddy boots, hung her dark burgundy coat next to his black leather jacket, she quietly marveled at the intimacy of the small choir.
Leading her through the hall into the spacious dining room, Severus noticed her whiskey eyes dance over the mismatched antique furniture and paintings of various landscapes. Much to his surprise, she seemed to like all of it, but remained silent.
He took a seat at the head of the table after pulling a chair out for her. The quiet space between them felt comfortable instead of awkward. The fire crackled in the hearth, white tapers were lit on their silver stands and more flowers like the ones in Hermione’s bouquet stood in a pretty vase.
Feeling at ease, Severus pulled off the black sweater, dismissing it to the nearby closet.
Hermione almost swallowed her tongue. If anyone ever told her she’d be sitting with the dark wizard at their dinning table, witnessing him wear nothing but black jeans and a washed out Rolling Stones t-shirt that perfectly showed off his pale, muscular arms, Hermione would consider them mad as a hatter. Yet here she was, salivating at the sight of him, his ink black hair messed up from her hands and the sea breeze.
“Earth to Hermione…” he drawled in his deep, sonorous voice.
Before Hermione could muster a reply, Posy saved her as she popped in with the first course. She snapped her little fingers and the table was set, completed with silverware and a bowl of steaming tomato soup.
“Eat well!” the elf chimed before taking her leave.
Black eyes held the whiskey ones over the plates and food laid out between them.
Hermione got up, since she deemed pouring them soup a less dangerous territory then staring at those lips, as he slowly curled them into a smirk.
“We should talk now, about us. Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“It’s just us now. It will always be us from now on. Are you alright with that?”
Hermione frowned at his words as she began to eat.
“Of course I am. I never wanted another. I want you, Severus. Only you.”
He observed the shift in her mood and knew, he was on the right path to help her get back out of her head.
“I want to make it clear I will marry you before...complying with our bond.” Hermiones cheeks flushed crimson. There was intensity in her companion now, an edge that reminded her of just who she was dining with.
“I want us to willingly choose each other first, before we accept the blessing the fates had granted us.” There was the stern man she fell for, Hermione thought, as her heart skipped a beat. Methodical and diligent to his core.
“And I will ask your fathers permission to do so. We may have to hide from the rest of the world until the war is over, but I will not have you lying to your parents about what we are to each other.” A bonfire could not match the flames that roared inside of Severus in this moment. The fire she had lit. It warmed his battered soul and for that, Severus deemed it sacred.
“Albus and Minerva are aware...there was a prophecy once, regarding us. It made them expect the bond to ignite.” Hermione swallowed her initial surprise along with the last spoon of her soup.
“Is that going to be an obstacle?” she wondered aloud.
“No, they seem to be unusually supportive of our union. I’ve told Dumbledore in no uncertain terms our bond is not to be treated as a bargaining chip, unless he wants me prodding at his mind.” A bitter huff and a sharp set of his jaw made Hermione reach out a hand to run her fingers over his in a calming gesture.
“I am a better Legillimens then Albus. A far better Occlumens as well. And he knows I am.”
Hermione smiled proudly at him.
“I think you might be the greatest wizard I know.”
The tips of his ears turned pink at her comment.
“I told Ginny. Not about the bond...just about us spending time together. I thought it would be wise to have someone to cover for me.”
Severus was glad she changed the subject just slightly. He was not used to praise and it still made him a little uncomfortable.
“Can we trust her?” he asked, thinking about what he knew of the youngest Weasley.
“I made her take a vow of secrecy.” Hermione said simply.
“Draco knows as well.”
“I think I caught that, last night. There was something strange in the way he looked at me.” Hermione creased her forehead in thought as another course of food appeared in front of them. It was a simple dish of roast potatoes with rosemary and chicken, carrots and cherry tomatoes. The heavenly smell distracted her a little, as they dug in.
Severus chuckled.
“No love, that’s not the reason he looked at you like that.”
Much like him, Hermione rose an eyebrow in question.
“The boy is...smitten. With you.”
Hardly swallowing another bite, Hermione gaped at the words in astonishment.
“Malfoy? Smitten? You must be joking!”
“It’s true!” Severus laughed, only just realizing he half worried Hermione would still prefer the blonde prat.
“After all the bullying, all the insults and ignorance that…ferret thinks he is what? In love? With me?” she almost shouted with indignation.
“I can’t blame him. You’re the most brilliant and gorgeous witch in the wizarding world and Malfoy is typically inclined to have the best.”
Hermione once again, remained speechless as she felt the heat radiate in her cheeks. Severus snaked his long fingers under her chin to tilt her head up.
“I may be a cold and snarky bastard but I am the luckiest bastard there is, to have you as my witch.” He leaned in to kiss her, his lips only a whisper against her own.
Hermione felt like wax, hot and melting quickly. Severus saved her from being transfixed as he spoke on.
“You’ll have to forgive Draco, I am afraid. He is my Godson, you know. Malfoys are the closest thing I have to relatives, so he will be around. Perhaps more than you’d like.”
It was Hermiones turn to chuckle.
“Please. I can handle Malfoy, don’t worry.” That infamous Gryffindor character returned to her, as they ate on.
“You have no family of your own then?” she asked.
“No. I am a half-blood, Hermione. My mother came from a long line of Purebloods. The Prince family, to be exact. They are all dead now, due to their selfish ways.” The detached way he spoke of them made Hermione wonder what stories she’d be able to dig out as their relationship progressed. She hoped he’d tell her everything, with time. As if sensing her thoughts, Severus spoke onward.
“I don’t want any secrets between us, love. I am fed up with hiding my true self. I want you to really know me and that means we have a lot to talk about. My past was far from pretty. But I don’t want to smear our first day with reliving those memories.”
Hermione knew him enough to sense him shift into a lecture. Posy changed their empty plates for a pot of strong tea and a blueberry pie.
“I’d like that, too.” she tried to encourage him.
“I did well for myself, especially for someone who came from nothing. I rarely spent any of my teaching salary, I have a vast array of patents bringing me additional money every year. Then the last of the Price line died and they were foolish enough not to exclude me from their final testament.” A bitter laugh escaped him.
“You inherited everything?” Hermione asked, completely enthralled.
“I inherited everything.” He confirmed, finally looking at her with those endlessly deep eyes.
Hermione was desperate to uplift his mood somehow. What he told her obviously laid heavy on his shoulders.
“So essentially, you’re a Malfoy?” she smirked.
“I would deem it unwise of you to voice such harsh assumptions.” Severus tried to give her his stern professorial look and failed magnanimously.
“I would deem it unwise to forget this stern and frightening aura made me fall for you in the first place.” she held her own, melting his foul mood.
I love you.
He could feel the words in his mouth again, and took her hand to kiss her knuckles instead. Would she say them back, he wondered.

If talking finances with Severus over pie and teacups seemed otherworldly to Hermione, she willed herself to accept it as it was. Their new reality.
“Do you have any plans, after Hogwarts?” he asked on a whim.
Hermione looked thoughtful for a while.
“I want to pursue multiple masteries, I think. But I don’t want to go work for the Ministry afterwards.” she paused, gathering herself to say for the first time, what she’d never shared with another person before.
“Everyone has all these grand ideas for me, thinking how I’d have to become someone big and successful to fulfill my potential.”
Severus sensed her frustration and let her finish.
“I don’t think I want that, not really.” she finally admitted.
“What do you want, Hermione?” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.
“I want a simple life. A place to create and research. A shop maybe, to sell rare books and magical artefacts. I think I’d like to create a...light version of Borghin and Burke’s? I never truly understood why heirlooms and artefacts were only imbued with dark magic. Why doesn’t anyone create anything good-natured unless it’s so brilliantly insipid as what the Weasley twins are doing with their shop?”
Breathless from her rant, Hermione finally looked at the man holding her hand.
There was pure awe in his eyes, a barely visible smile on his lips.
Pride.
“I can’t imagine a better path for you, love.” he said at last.
“I intend to support you fully, once we get that far. Merlin knows we have enough means and properties for you to begin with.”
“We?” Hermione asked shyly.
“We.” Severus confirmed. “You are going to be my wife, Hermione. What’s mine is yours.”
The heaviness of his words finally caught up to them and the space between the pair suddenly felt much to vast for all the emotional tension. Not trusting himself to honor his word about marrying her first, Severus broke the silence by pulling her out of her chair and guiding her deeper into the house.

“I have something for you, actually.” he said as they stopped at one of the doors. Hermione thought they would probably lead to what was once called a solarium. The sun room.
Severus looked confident as he looked down at her.
“Consider this my first courting gift to you. It’s a bit unusual since you can’t actually take it anywhere, but I’ve been building it for weeks now, with you in mind.”
Severus opened the door wide, and Hermione felt like swooning.
Inside the sunlit room was the library.
It was not the biggest library she’d been to, but the magically enlarged room held two stories of what appeared to be endless bookshelves, filled with thousands of books.
“I admit I didn’t know that first book list would lead us here, but it seemed sort of fitting to build you a library.” He whispered somewhere near her neck before burying his face into her mass of curls.
Hermione felt overwhelmed. With love, with gratitude, with excitement. She turned to him and pulled his head down for a kiss so passionate, Severus had once again found himself hardly holding back from ravaging her right there on the thick ornate rug. Breathless and just a little starstruck, Hermione looked at him as if he’d just given her the world.

“Thank you.” she said simply before she kissed him again.
“I love it.” Another kiss.
“You do?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“You really know how to court a girl.” she laughed against his lips. They were making their way towards one of the armchairs in front of the great fireplace. Severus pulled her in his lap as he sat down, grateful he had the foresight to furnish the room.

“You render me speechless.” she said, snugly wrapped against his wide chest, her arms around his neck as if she’d never let him go.
“Awfully chatty for someone who claims to be speechless, though.” he teased, honestly pleased with her reaction.
“Oh, I’ll be quiet now.” she said seductively and slipped her tongue between his parted lips.
The man groaned in delight, joining in at the sweet teasing dance of mouth she had initiated.
A stray thought passed Severus’s mind as he once again nipped at Hermione’s full bottom lip, about how it was oddly fitting to have two bibliophiles snogging in their own home library.
Then she kissed him again, teasing his tongue and mimicking what he did earlier and sucked it into her sweet mouth. And Severus Snape thought no more.
His hands roamed her body, possessively mapping out every curve he now deemed his own territory. Their breaths grew shorter and more labored, as he tugged at her hair to add another love bite to the one already marking her. Then her curious fingers slid over his exposed dark mark and Severus broke out of the daze in panic.

“It’s alright. Sorry, I’m just not...used to it.” he bit out, still panting.
Hermione’s wide eyes softened and she simply cupped his face instead.
“No, I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.” she took another look at it, determination in her eyes.
“How dangerous is it, what you do?”
“Deadly.” he deadpanned.
Chuckling, Hermione let him know he wouldn’t get off that easily.
“Rumor has it you are Voldemort’s right hand man.”
“I guess, maybe. If Voldemort would have that sort of organization, yes. He is too impulsive for a military system. I am high ranks with both, to be honest. And they both still question my loyalty on regular basis. I would not be much of a spy if they hadn’t. The Order - they bark more than they bite. Unfortunately, it’s quite the opposite with Death Eaters. They’re more of a torture first and ask questions later sort of people.”

“What a jolly company you keep, dear.” Hermione replied sarcastically. Severus grew quiet for a few moments. There was something on his mind, regarding all of this, but Hermione decided to let it be.
“I am training Draco to be a spy, like me. He doesn’t have a speck of darkness in him, and yet he was forced to follow in his fathers footsteps since Lucius is in Azkaban.”
“You worry for him.”
“He’s my responsibility now. I’ve never been more mad at Lucius, exposing himself like that at the Department of Mysteries.”
“We’ll get through this, I am sure of it.” she said reassuringly, stroking a hand up and down his back.
Posy interrupted what ever words were about to roll off of his tongue as she popped in, landing on the top of the fireplace. The elf eyed the pair with uncovered curiosity.
“Posy was wondering if Mistress brought any personal items to put away.”
Severus looked at the witch curled over his lap as he spoke.
“Your brown leather bag, correct?” She nodded, her heart picking up the pace.
“You can put her things in the Master bedroom, Posy.” He commanded. A crack of the little elf seemed muffled by the tension that suddenly filled the room. Severus slid his gaze down to Hermione’s bruised lips, his fingers digging into her side possessively.
“You’re staying in my bed tonight.”

Chapter Text

The mirror of the master bathroom grew misty from the steam as Hermione took a quick, yet relaxing shower. She found herself reaching for his soap, massaging it into her wet skin and thoroughly enjoying the smell of him. Hermione was thinking about the thing he said earlier that day, about first times, and about how you only got to experience them once. There were a lot of first times in this one day. Their first official date. The first time he made her come undone. The first day at their house. Smiling to herself, she thought of the library and all the hours he must have poured into building it. His first courting gift. Now, it would be their first night together.

It was a lot.

It was enough.

She found wisdom in him, a calm to see past first impulses. Hermione dried herself with a fluffy cotton towel and went on with her evening routine of cleaning teeth the muggle way. Her mouth full of toothpaste, she once again quietly thanked the fates for bestowing upon her the gift of mating her soul to this wizard. It was no longer a question if she loved him despite the bond or because of the bond. She loved him. He was a part of her soul - her love for him etched in her bones.

So Hermione did her best to take in the room around her while she changed into a fine cotton sleepwear, realizing this is now their bathroom. The one they share, next to their bedroom. Today, she was going to sleep next to her life partner, and had a home. A future to look forward to, to build with Severus.
Her life would never be the same again.

Severus was perched on the bed, a book he kept picking up this day, rested between his long fingers. He was as usually, in a matching set of black cotton t-shirt and thin black slacks. He readied himself in another bathroom, to give Hermione some time to relax and explore their new environment.
His mind kept circling back to the short conversation that followed Posy’s departure earlier in the library. He could feel Hermione’s worries over her own inexperience waging war with excitement at his announcement. She knew immediately that he knew now, of her virginity. Severus smirked at the memory of the pretty shyness that overcame the witch at the revelation. The possessive satisfaction that came over him.
Hermione waited for him.
She was meant for him, and him alone.

To take, to taste, to pleasure.
The mere thought of it sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

Severus was far from inexperienced, but ever since his teenage days with muggle girls had come to an end, living like a monk seemed like the wiser choice. Hermione laughed in astonishment when he told her his right hand could never betray him, not in the way a witch could. Roughly twenty years of solitude made him a patient man. They could take time to explore each others pleasure until their wedding night. Now Severus glanced at the bathroom door thinking of her, naked and wet and wondered if he had overestimated his own self control.

The door to the bathroom creaked open.

Hermione came out, smelling of his soap. Severus trained his eyes on the witch as she walked across the hardwood floor in bare feet. Her cotton pants hung low on her round hips, a hint of lace underwear peeking over the rim of ornate cotton fabric. She was in a white ribbed cotton top ending just below her belly button.

Suddenly, Severus found himself no longer able to think. Hermione was braless. He was certain of it. The sway of her firm mounds confirmed his suspicion at her every move. He could see the shape of her nipples as they peaked under the thin layer of fabric.

Hermione was obviously unaware of how mesmerized was her observer. She went to put the neatly folded pile of worn clothes into the drawer Posy filled with her modest supply of things. Then, as if feeling the intensity of Severus’s hungry eyes, a pleasant shiver made her skin prickle. It made her look up into the ornate mirror above the massive chest drawer.

Their gazes met in the reflection.

Severus was no longer the only one struggling for air.

Hermione turned slowly, her thick braid of curls swinging gently. She walked to the edge of the large black fourposter. Severus already sat at the foot of the bed now, waiting. There was unguarded eagerness in the way he helped her straddle his hips, then moved them backwards with one strong arm keeping her atop of him.
Suddenly, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing filling the room. Hermione cupped his face, lowering her forehead to his. Severus never closed his eyes, not even when her nose slid down his cheek, not even when she kissed him tentatively.

The first kiss was as soft and innocent as if he only dreamed it.

The next one was more thorough.

There was not a single millimeter of his mouth that remained untouched. Severus opened up, a growl forming low in his throat. He was holding back, testing the force of his own restraints as Hermione pressed against him, her curves a stark contrast to his hard muscular torso. Severus, always one to be in control, now felt perfectly happy to keep his witch on top of him. His resolve to let Hermione narrate the pace was quickly wearing thin as their kisses grew more passionate, each swipe of their tongues a sinful dance of its own. He forced her mouth wide open, a hand now under her jaw to keep her in place as he plunged into the warm cavern of her mouth. She tasted of minty toothpaste and something so innately herself. He allowed himself to become more vocal because of the sheer pleasure that radiated through them. He retreated, plunged back in, sucked at her bottom lip and marveled at the lustful haze clouding her intelligent eyes.

Hermione’s skin felt overly sensitive, her nerve endings igniting with every swipe of his tongue against hers, every scrape of his teeth. Her breath was hitching. Severus was taking the lead, his hands finally finding their way up her body. Just before he filled his palms with her covered breasts, he stopped.
Hermione let out a quiet whine as a single calloused finger caressed the bottom of one mound. Severus searched for confirmation.
Hermione pulled her head away just enough to nod. The thought formed at the front of her mind, and she tried to look for the thread of their mental connection.
“Take whatever you want. I trust you. I am yours.”

He shivered, finding Hermione’s voice inside his mind was an utterly delightful way to caress his senses. On a groan he let go of her swollen lips, trailing open mouthed kisses down her jaw, igniting all the little fires on her long neck. His hands stroked her breasts over the fabric, but as his head traveled lower, he spelled all her clothes away.
For a moment he simply stared at her in quiet awe.
The heat in her eyes as she bravely pushed her shoulders back, offering herself, made Severus give in.

He filled his large palms with her silky flesh as he buried his face between her breasts, thumbs gently stroking already hard nipples. Hermione dug her fingers into his raven hair, her head lolling back as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. Each touch was so slow, so precise. Still holding her breasts, he licked at one nipple, circling it with his tongue. His obsidian eyes were now like black pits of desire, swallowing her alive. Severus sucked the sensitive peak into his mouth and Hermione gasped. Her body was suddenly on fire. Arching her back, she pushed further into him.

“Fuck, Hermione, I have dreamed so many times about doing this.” His voice was a low, sensuous rumble in her mind.
“These glorious breasts always drove me half mad with lust.”
Hermione was desperate for him to know how much she enjoyed his explorations. If he stopped now, she’d probably cry with frustration.
“Oh, I want to take my time tasting your skin, love.” he kept his mind rambling, seeing how it drove her crazy, having his voice in her head. In her head only, because his mouth was occupied with doing all the sinister deeds, all the ways he always wanted to use his mouth on her milk white flesh.

Gods, how he enjoyed playing on the strings of her pleasure.
Severus was rock hard, trying not to rub at her too much. But Hermione pressed her hips down on the length of him, searching for friction. Severus hissed with his mouth still around her other breast, as she began to roll her naked hips. Her pink, glistening core dampening his own sleepwear.

“Mmm...you like that, don’t you, my little minx?” His voice purred in her mind.
“Already so...deliciously...wet for me.” Feeling her writhe against him was like Heaven, and he was going to enjoy every second.

She tentatively reached down, her palm sliding over his chest. With one whispered “divesto”, his clothes were gone too.
“Sweet Merlin girl, you know how to play.” Severus shuddered. His voice grew husky. It was his turn to fight for control as Hermione slid her finger over his exposed torso, trailing a path to the pink head of his member. His body was lean and muscular, his skin pale and riddled with old scars. The ridges of his muscles in contrast with the veins that were oddly visible in some places, where his skin was thinner, Severus reminded Hermione of a marble statue. Taking in the sight in front of her, Hermione was feeling awestruck. Her lover had a body of a weathered warrior.
“You’re so gorgeous.” She said on a breath.

In reply, Severus smirked, then pinched and twisted her nipples at the same time her fingers slid over him for the first time. He hissed with pleasure, his cock twitching under her sleek channel.

“We can’t stay like this love, or this is going to become the shortest courting in wizarding history.” The strain in his low voice let her know just how much it cost him not to simply push up into her and claim. She nodded, allowing him to reposition himself so his cock was now behind her.
“Aah...I...I want to... ah.” Hermione was panting, her body wound up with all the sensations.
“Yes?” Severus drawled lazily.
“I want to try something...ah...I read ...about …”
“Go on.” was all he was able to grunt out before succumbing to the sensations of her hands exploring his body. She tentatively reached back, circled his swollen head and encompassed him into the softness of her palm. Guiding his thick cock up as her fingers spread her own wetness up and down his length, Severus realized what she was doing. Hermione placed his cock between her butt cheeks, and continued to stroke. The witch might not have the practiced touch of someone who’s already been here, but the sheer brilliance of the idea and the sensations her touch had ignited sent Severus’s mind reeling with pleasure.
The first strokes of her palm were gentle, pushing his large throbbing cock further into the soft crevice of her flesh. It felt oh so good, to be enveloped by her. His hips twitched upwards and Hermione became more confident, gripping his shaft harder, wiggling her butt a little to entice him even more. Severus got so caught up with her ministrations, he would stop thinking entirely, if it were not for her wet clit, rubbing on the patch of his black hair on his lower abdomen.
Once again obsessed with chasing her pleasure first, Severus snaked a hand between them, his fingers exploring her soaking folds.
He kept kissing every inch of her body his mouth could latch on, while his fingers straced different patterns on her tender flesh. She was so beautiful, so pink and swollen with need.
Need for him.
“You’re mine.” He kept saying against her skin, sometimes on a whisper, sometimes on a growl.
“Mine.” Bite.
“Hermione...” Another bite.
“Just. Mine.” He stretched her apart with his other hand. Not entirely sure what his witch would like, he kept sliding his fingers over her, until she rolled her hips as if begging for more. He pinched and rubbed at her clit, trying different motions and observing her response until soon, he found a pattern that made her moan his name loudly, her voice sultry and breathless.

Their connection made it easy to know they were both so close to the edge, enjoying each sensation on their way. He captured one of her breasts into his mouth again, sucking gently. It aroused them both, the intimacy of having his lips latched onto her like this. He felt himself get impossibly hard, the tingling sensation at the bottom of his spine growing stronger. Suddenly, Hermiones entire body shuddered. Severus thought, this was it, this was what he’d been chasing inside her. Building her up to the point where she toppled over.
He pressed the rough pads of his fingers firmly against her clit and an orgasm ripped through her. She saw only white, as the force of his ministrations pushed her over the edge.
He seemed to be touching her everywhere all at once.
Her wet pussy just kept clenching, hips twitching involuntarily at the force of his touch. Severus held on to watch her come undone, her body shaking with delight. It was not like in the castle ruins, short and achingly sweet. No, this was a long, strong orgasm.
Seeing her mouth fall open with a silent scream, Severus finally let go. He reached around to squeeze her arse together as his own pleasure overtook him.
“Hermione. Oh. Fuck. Oh! Fuck!”
He rocked his hips upwards as his cock pulsed with release. Ropes of his hot seed painted over her backside, the small of her back and slowly began dripping back down.
Hermione enjoyed the sensation, seeing him let go for the first time. Mesmerized with what she could see of his face, when it contorted with pleasure, she watched his prominent eyebrows flying up, his obsidian eyes fluttering close.

Well sated, Severus laid them back into the pillows, keeping his witch on top of his bare chest, tucking her head under his chin. Instead of cleaning her up in an instant, Severus let his fingers dip into his come, smearing it over her back, oh, so gently. Hermione purred at the sensation of feeling marked by him yet again.
There was a pleasant quiet, the only sounds in the room now were ones of their racing heartbeats slowly returning to a normal pace, their breaths going even.

Severus watched Hermione fall asleep on top of him and could find no reason not to just let her be. He stayed awake for awhile, thoroughly enjoying every sensation. Hermiones soft braid tickling him, her soft breath against his throat, her curves melting into his own relaxed form. In that moment, Severus felt the happiest he had ever been.

It was pitch black when Hermione woke. The air in the bedroom grew chill, but she was snugly tucked into a soft duvet. Severus was laying beside her, his naked body warm against her. That is when it dawned on Hermione it was not cold that made him shiver.
No, he was trembling with fear.
For a few moments, she took her time observing, thinking. His muscles were twitching, his face contorted with pain. With his hands clutched into fists, veins popping out of pale skin, Severus looked as if it took all his strength not to scream at the force of what he was enduring in his sleep. His mind made the nightmare so real, Hermione realized, the body reacted accordingly. She gently stroked a hand over his back and he seemed to relax just a little, so she just kept gliding her fingers with feather light caresses, tracing the contours of his pale muscles. She closed her eyes, and sensed the edge of his thoughts through their bond.
“Severus, love, wake up. Come to me love, you’re safe here.” She kept crooning at his mind, like she would to a child that hid under the bed.
“Severus, it’s me - Hermione. Love, wake up. It’s alright.”

Severus was back at his fathers house, his lanky torso naked and stretched over the kitchen table. His father held the wide leather belt. This time, he was lucky - bastard held it by the buckle. That would leave less marks, but would be no less painful. His body tensed as the leather swished through the air. Those milliseconds before the belt connected with the soft skin of his back were the absolute worst.
He would scream, he would throw up, he would pass out from the pain that seared through his nerves, sizzling like hellfire before it reached his brain. But Severus could do nothing. Just once, his body betrayed him and after Tobias was done with him, he got to work on his mother. To punish her for raising such a weak son.
After that one time, Severus made a point to keep quiet and still. He never again fought back. He never screamed when it hurt. Another whip, another agonizing moment when he could do nothing but pray to whatever Gods who listened, prayed it would be over already.
That’s when he felt it.
Instead of pain, there was warmth licking his skin. It spread slowly, like a blanket. Like a shield.
A soft voice called him.
“Severus, please. Please come to me. Love, come back to me.” He knew that voice. Hermione.
Severus let himself follow the warmth of her, the shadows of his dreams dissipating into smoke. His eyelids felt so heavy, but he slowly forced them open. Hermiones face ghosted just above his own.

“Oh, finally. You’re awake.” She smiled radiantly. Her palm was caressing his cheek, like his mother used to on some long forgotten night when Tobias had already passed out. She sat up on the pillows and Severus let her guide him, allowing his entire body to nestle against her.
Hermione kept sliding her fingers over him, tracing his muscles, his bones, his scars.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered after a while, when she made sure he was calm enough.
“Fucking nightmare.” He muttered on an exhale. Silence was all encompassing. She breathed deeply, as if the sound of air going in and out would help him settle. On a second thought, he realized in astonishment, it actually did. It was like a soft breeze rustling through the spring leaves. A quiet and gentle sound. Severus felt himself let go.
“It was more of a memory really.” He sighed. “I was getting another one of his lectures. Beating by belt, this time.” His voice was completely emotionless when he said it.
A gasp tore through Hermione’s chest, but she restrained herself from commenting, she was too afraid he would stop talking.
“It was another of those drunk nights when he got home and tripped. Over his own boots, for Merlin’s sake. But somehow, it was always someone else to blame. I rather took it on me, or else she’d get hurt. My mum, that is. He would loose count around eighteen or twenty hits and stop. I just had to keep quiet and still, and he would stop sooner. If I moved it spurred him on, bloody sadist. If I cried out he would take it out on her later. So I always kept quiet. I always stood still.”
“Who, Severus? Who did this to you?” Hermione asked silently.
“My father.”
Another gasp. Then she held him so hard, as if she was trying to break his bones by hugging him. For some reason, it made him chuckle. Like that little gesture alone melted away the tension in his body.
“It’s alright love, he is long gone. It’s just my stupid brain. Every time I become too happy, it punishes me with nightmares. It’s ...”
“PTSD.” Hermione whispered.
“You have PTSD. It’s a trauma response. A self preservation mechanism.”
Severus smiled into her hair. It was so like her to rattle off the facts and definitions. This was the first time he noticed, she actually did not do it to gain recognition - she did it to calm herself.
“Did it happen a lot?” She asked after a few beats of silence.
“Honestly? Yes.” He paused, lost in thought.
“My childhood was not pretty, love. I will try to tell you everything. You need to know.” He was serious now, even solemn.
“No, you deserve to know. The whole truth. If you want to really know me...it’s only fair. But I rather would not go further into it just now, if you don’t mind.”
“Alright.” She said, kissing the top of his head. Severus rose on his elbows, and kissed her lips.
He molded his mouth to hers, slowly, gently sliding in with his tongue. He wanted to lose himself in the sensation of just being alive, being next to her. Hermione wrapped her legs around him, pulling him further into her embrace. They were both still naked, and the slow sliding of skin against skin rekindled the sparks between them. It was not long when their kisses grew deeper, her body writhing sensuously. The coarse black hair on his legs, his hard cock on her thigh, his hard chest against her own. It all elicited small pleasures inside her, igniting hungry flames of passion. Severus was more confident now that he was on top. Total control suited him.
Hermione enjoyed how he rubbed his erection against her thighs, and she spread her legs wider, wanting to feel him there, at her core.
“Oh, you like my cock, don’t you?” He murmured mischievously against her lips. “Mhmmm...” she panted in reply. She felt him drag himself up, torturously slow, until his silky head was nudging her dripping entrance. He reached down to spread her a little, than kept on teasing them both with the tip of his head. Seeing Hermione hiss with pleasure, he continued. Teasing, prodding, sliding against her growing slickness. Testing, always testing their limits. Their restraints.
Then he moved away completely. Hermione stared at him, panting, a sight of frustration was etched in her eyes.
“Don’t stop.” She yelped weakly.
“You’re so wet. I need to taste you.” He stated, licking his lips.
The truth was, he began to feel such overwhelming need to surge into her, just..in. He no longer trusted himself to play fair. He wanted to be the man of his word, the man who does right by her. He did fantasize about tasting her pussy again ever since that first time they shared a dream. Now, it would be a proper distraction.

He lowered his head, kissing one breast, than the other. His head disappeared down her body, leaving behind a trail of soft, wet kisses.
At first, Severus just held her open, breathing in her sweet scent. He wrapped one of his arms under her leg, palm resting heavy on her lower belly, keeping her still. Then he licked at her entrance, slowly, gently. His dark eyes closed, as if he was enjoying himself too much and wanted nothing to spoil it. On a growl, he covered her with her mouth, licking, circling, sucking.
“Gods, Hermione, you taste so good.” He moaned as he licked, and nipped, behaving like eating her out was a rare delicacy and he was a man starved. Hermione wanted to close her eyes too, but was so entranced by the sight of him, she could not look away.

The sensation of his hot tongue savoring her flesh was so decadent. His licks grew wide and languid. This time, he did not want to rush her. Hermione felt her body melt like wax, her entire world narrowing to the sensations he was offering. When she thought it couldn’t get any better, he sucked on her clit, hard.
She moaned, his name falling from her lips on a torn breath.
He did it again. And again. And again until it became simply too much.
Hermione exploded. A rush of wetness trickled out of her and Severus just kept lapping at her folds, until her fluttering walls calmed down once more. He looked wild as he lifted his head, his black hair a mess of soft waves surrounding the sharp angles of his face, illuminated by moonlight. He laid his head on her soft stomach. Hermione tangled her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp absentmindedly.
“I want to take care of you, too” she said on a yawn.
“Don’t worry about me. We’ll have plenty of chances to do all that.” He said softly, his low voice vibrating through her torso. The need to bury himself inside her dripping channel was still too great. The nightmare left him feeling a little tender, his body tense. Severus thought he would need a lot of time before he relaxed enough to enjoy any other form of pleasure she’d try to bring him. So for now, this was enough.

He curled his body around her, holding her close.
“You let me lose myself in your body, Hermione. You trust me, so freely. Knowing I am a man who gets to have that with you. It’s enough for me.” By the time he was done talking, he was already whispering.
Hermiones hand gently stroked his cheek, his jaw, his hair. Before they knew it, they were back to sleep, their bodies tangled in the best way possible.

The first thing Hermione felt when waking up, was the sun on her face, gently prying her eyes open.
The second thing she felt, was Severus, his huge hard torso snuggly wrapped around her back, his large arms keeping her in place. He had good twenty centimeters on her in height, perhaps even more, and it made for an interesting contrast between their already so different bodies.
The third thing she felt, was his large erection, nestled between her thighs. Hermione felt herself get wet. Or maybe she simply never...stopped.
Thats what she got for two rounds of being intimate. A wave of raging hormones. Thinking, how he did not get the chance to get off in the night, she spread her legs a little and snaked a hand down. Gripping his shaft into her palm, she begun to explore his shape, tracing her fingers over the veins, the ridge under the bulbous head.
It gave her immense pleasure to feel him hot and hard against her. Not in her, not yet. She’d respect his wisdom to take this slow. But to bring him pleasure, like he had done for her, that got her burning even more.
She kept stroking his shaft, gently. Up and down, up and down. It was a struggle not to move her hips. He began to moan, only half awake, his hands gripping her hips while he thrust into her hand. Severus nuzzled into her neck, eliciting small prickles on her skin. He nipped at the sensitive spot just behind her ear.
“Good morning.” He rumbled, his voice gravely with sleep.
“Good morning, my love.” Hermione replied, breathless. She had to resist the urge to rub her thighs together.
“Looks like my little witch wants to…ah…play.” He drawled into her ear.
He was about to come much faster then he’d anticipated. Perhaps the residual arousal from their midnight tryst left him halfway there despite sleep. Hermione sensed it, seeing how his body was tensing up with pent up pleasure, waiting to be released.
“Come for me, Severus. Please, let me see you come.” She whispered, her voice full of anticipation. That quiet plea in her breathless voice took him over the edge. He saw stars as his eyes drifted close, his hips snapping up with force of his pleasure. Severus spilled his seed all over her labia, her lower belly, some drops even clung to her breasts.
For a few moments, all he could do was pant.

“You sure know how to start a day right.” He said chuckling, still holding her close. He began to drag his calloused palms up and down her front, spreading his sticky come over her skin, her belly button, her breasts. Hermione keened, already feeling pleasured by his touch.
“You don’t mind? Being all sticky from me?” He asked. He could clean her up quickly if that was not the case, but it brought him such pleasure to mark his witch.
“No, please don’t stop. It feels so good.” Her back arched, as if she was a cat, seeking his attention. He begun to play with her nipples, biting her neck. Hermione whined.
“Severus, please...“ Hermione spread her legs again, inviting his touch.
“Don’t worry, love. I will take care of you.” His deep voice was like velvet, calming her nerves.
“Look how perfect you are. All flushed and wet for me.” Hermione’s breath was hitching. Gods how she liked to feel his low voice vibrate over her skin. Severus kept her legs wide apart and played with her clit. It was easier to pleasure her now that she was laying down, her hips still. As her moans grew louder, he dipped a single digit into her, not far in, just enough to press at that sweet spot. Not wanting to get carried away, he kept his ministrations precise and slow. Her legs began to tremble, each sensation amplified by the fact she was still a little tender from their previous explorations. Hermione grew awfully quiet, biting down on her lips. Then he pressed on her clit at the same time as he curled his finger, and she flew. Her hips jerking, legs shaking, her inner walls fluttering around his fingers.
“Severus! Oh, oh yes...” Her cries were breathless and quiet. But he loved the way she pinched her eyes shut, how her nose scrunched a bit.
“I love you.” He whispered into her hair, unsure if she even heard him. But it suddenly felt so right, so easy to say it, the words simply rolled of his tongue. Severus held her close. Hermione turned to look into his black eyes and smiled softly.
“I love you too.” She replied and kissed him with utter reverence.

Chapter Text

“I am keeping this.” Hermione said over her shoulder, as she picked up Severus’s black t-shirt. It laid on the hardwood floor, abandoned since their yesterdays activities.
She buried her face into it.
“Only if you tell me why.” He said with a little mischievous smirk. It was hard not to be cheerful, after the morning they just shared.
“I want to sleep in it when we are back at the castle. There is no way I am getting any sleep without something that smells like you.” She sighed as she carefully folded the black fabric into her bag.
“Between the two of us, I am sure we will soon find a way to sleep together while we are at the castle, too.” Severus said, pulling another black t-shirt over his head.
They have just gotten out of the shower they took together. It made him quite happy to see Hermione slightly displeased when he washed the white crust of his seed off of her body. He did not keep a lot of his belongings at the house, but a change of clothes always came handy. For now, Severus picked an ancient Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a black cable-knit jumper.
“Is there a town or a village nearby? I really need to call my parents to let them know we are coming over.” Hermione turned to him just as he was pulling the woolen garment over his head.
“Led Zeppelin, seriously?” She giggled. Hermione never giggled, but somehow, knowing her lover was a rocker gave her a pleasant thrill. Especially since she seemed to be the only one privileged to know this side of him.
“What? You know them?” He stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Of course I know them.” Hermione said on a laugh, closing the buttons of her jeans.
“My father is a big fan. Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, Queen, AC/DC, you name it. I grew up listening to this music. Mum is more of a free spirit. She prefers Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, the CCR or some dreamy classics.” Severus just stared at her for a moment.
“You really are perfect for me, aren’t you?” He shook his head, walking down to the dining room with his hand on the small of her back. He couldn’t stop touching her.
“It keeps surprising me.”
“Me too. But at the same time - there is some logic to it, I guess?”
“Go on.” He prompted, sitting down to breakfast and poured Hermione her tea. A spoon of brown sugar and a splash of milk, stirred exactly five times clockwise.
She hummed with pleasure as she took the first sip, gratitude shining in her eyes as she watched him doctor his own cup with the same practiced precision.
“Well, my theory is we did not just become soulmates on the night of my birthday. We always were, in a way.” She paused, chasing a silver lining in her thoughts.
“It would be logical we developed into two people who are highly compatible, in the period before we knew of the bond. I’ve never been one for divination, but even I cannot say there is no fate, no force ruling over our lives. It would make no sense to mate the souls of people who’s only compatibility laid in their magical core.”
He nodded, watching Hermione butter her toast.
“I suppose you’re right.” He was quiet for a bit after that, pensive.
“We should consider writing on observation journal about our bond. We know so little about how the soulmates live, it would make for a fine research topic. If you were amenable, of course. I don’t want you feeling like a lab rat.” He became slightly anxious as he spoke, but Hermione simply beamed at the thought.
“Can you imagine? We could publish articles or even a book, somewhere down the line when the war is over and we had enough time to observe the way it affects our daily life.”
Severus felt a genuine smile bloom on his face at the enthusiasm he saw in the witch, thinking they actually had so many years to look forward to. They just had to get through the war first.
Slowly descending into a companionable silence, they ate and simply enjoyed themselves. There it was again, this ease between them, like in the summer. Little mundane pieces of life falling into place.

Severus got up and took her to the hall.
“We better get going. The drive to the nearest village takes about twenty minutes.”
“Drive?” Hermione gaped at him, feeling amused.
“We are going to drive there?”
Severus just smirked and pulled on his leather jacket, before holding out her knee-length Burgundy coat. He slid his lips over the shell of Hermione’s ear as she buttoned herself up, teeth nibbling at her earlobe.
“Just another way to enjoy ourselves. Do you trust me?” There was mischief in his purring voice. Hermione bit her lip.
“Oh, I don’t know Professor, I just might want to see your driving license first.” She mocked him lightly.
“Bloody cheek.” Severus gifted her one of his crooked half smiles as he took her around the house to the small shed.
“Wait here.” He grumbled and Hermione stood there, her mind screaming with curiosity. Than her jaw went slack. Kicking the door open with his black dragon hide boot, Severus pulled out a massive black motorcycle. Even Hermione could tell the machine was old but perfectly maintained. He summoned two black helmets and stepped around to put hers on. Hermione just stared, not really knowing whether to jump with excitement, stare in awe or laugh at the sheer outrage of Severus Snape - the biker.
After making sure the strap under her chin was properly fastened, Severus tilted her face up with his long fingers and pressed his mouth to hers. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to take you for a ride.” He smirked.
“Now I finally can.”

Pushing his visor down, he mounted the beastly looking machine, and turned to help Hermione climb up behind him. Mimicking his movements, Hermione found herself sitting behind his back, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist. Not a moment later, the engine roared to life and in a blink, they were off on the road. Little pieces of gravel flying from underneath the wide tyres, wind whipping at their moving figures, Hermione felt like she was flying. In stead of scary, it felt liberating to move through space like this. She trusted Severus completely.

The drive to the village flew by fast, the warmth of his strong body and the picturesque scenery pulling at her heart and mind. They parked behind a small store and walked across to the weathered phone booth.
Hermione pushed a few coins in and dialed her parents number. Her mother picked up after just a handful of rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi mum, it’s me.” Hermione relaxed instantly.
“Oh hello dear! Where on Earth are you calling from?” Jean said with just a little worry.
“I went to a phone booth in some village here in Scotland. Don’t dwell on it. Mum? I really need to tell you something.” If it was not for the sunny cheer in her daughters voice, Jean would start to panic. But she knew Hermione well, and she could tell the excitement was pouring out of her daughter.
“What is it, honeypot? Why are you calling?” she tried to erase nerves from her voice.
“I want to come over for dinner. Tonight? Would that be fine with you and dad? We need to talk.” Hermione did not think in advance on how this would go over with her parents, but she knew their Sunday routine and saw no reason why not.
“Of course, we would love to have you over. Are you coming alone?” Jean was silently hoping Hermione might have made progress with her tall, dark and handsome wizard.
“Actually, no. I am bringing TDH with me, if you don’t mind.”
She almost laughed. It was so weird now, acknowledging her mother already rooted for their budding relationship.
“Oh, I was hoping you would bring him back. Of course, of course, I better get to the kitchen. Will 5 o’clock be alright, deary?” Jean was practically jumping with excitement, her husband calmly observing her over the rim of his teacup.
“Yes mum, perfect. See you then. Bye.” Hermione hung up.
“I take it that went well?” Severus was looking a bit nervous all of a sudden.
“Yes, they expect us at five and they are thrilled to have us over. I really miss them, you know. I hate that they can not take a bigger part in my life while I am in the wizarding world.” Hermione stepped closer to him, obviously satisfied with the plan.

“Don’t worry love, they know…sort of. This will be no shock to them.” Severus almost choked on his own saliva. Shock was written all over him.
“They know. They know? They. Know. What. Exactly?” In his head, Severus imagined the lovely couple grilling him for falling for Hermione, or fighting him over whether or not he was good enough. Not excepting. It could not be that easy, could it?
Easy usually meant bad.
“TDH? It stands for tall, dark and handsome. That’s how mum and I would call you before she figured out just who it was that caught my attention. I had a crush on you for years. No boys or movie stars. Just you. With time, mum connected the dots. You left a good impression on them, when you came over in the summer.” Hermione paused, glancing at him shyly.
“So, yes - they know I love you.” She kissed him sweetly, holding on to his leather jacket for balance. Gods, he was tall.
“And they won’t mind the age gap? The whole teacher-student thing?” Severus was easing up, still a little unbelieving.
“The age gap? Oh Gods, I don’t know your exact age...I suppose you must have around sixteen years on me, seventeen maybe?”
“Nineteen. I am thirty six. Thirty seven next January.”
Hermione blushed, leading him away by his hand.
“Mum and dad? They have twenty one years between them. And she was his apprentice, when they met.” She stated heatedly. She would not allow him to worry over their union being accepted.
“Sweet Salazar, Hermione. I can’t believe this just might get over that easily.” Severus ran a hand over his face and laughed. Hermione loved seeing him laugh. So she told him.
“It’s hard not to, when you’re with me.” He said simply.

They went to the store to buy some snacks for the road, and headed back. Just before they would turn for the cottage, Severus stopped the engine, taking Hermiones hand. He led her to a viewpoint a few meters off the road, where the cliffs cut off the land and the sea stretched as far as the eye could see. Severus stood behind Hermione, wrapping her in his strong arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the heady combination of her flowery scent mixing with salty breeze.
“Hermione?” He said after a few beats of silence.
“Yes?”
“How does it feel? Being with me?” Severus’s voice gave nothing away, and Hermione missed looking into his emotional eyes.
“Like I am finally home.” She said thoughtfully.
“It brings me warmth and peace. Like a lock in me had opened at last and there are no more unanswered questions.”
Severus was left speechless. The intensity of her words washed over him. And he knew them to be true.
“To me, you are all I have been waiting for. All I have been missing. There was this void and life was just bearable but now...you’re finally here. And you’re everything.” He responded, his voice deep with emotions.
“One day with you and I can no longer imagine going back to the bleak excuse of a life I led before you.” His fingers curled into her hips, his lips kissing her temple. There were no words to describe the pleasure coursing through their hearts, as they shared this moment. With the wind gently blowing at them, the midday sun painted them golden.
It felt as if they were the only two people in the entire world. Hermione turned in his arms, pulling his head down as she rose on her toes.
“I love you, Severus Snape.” She whispered against his lips, before she kissed him. “And I love you...my sweet...little...witch.” He replied between kisses.
Emotions vibrated through them, as they kissed and kissed, letting the time fly by.

They returned to the cottage eventually. Posy had a salad waiting for them, with some fresh bread and cottage cheese. Hermione asked a hundred questions and he answered them, posing another hundred of his own. The time passed and the sun sunk deeper into the horizon. It was November and the day was already awfully short, especially this far North.
Severus changed into a black shirt, despite Hermione telling him there is no need to be so formal. He just stopped and looked at her for a moment, smirking. He did not say out loud, but they both thought the same thing - this is how it will be for them from now on.

Hermione transfigured her turtleneck into a dress, and enjoyed the way Severus’s gaze darkened, his hungry eyes roaming up her naked thighs. Next thing she knew he was pushing her up to sit on the massive wooden chest drawer, and the sense of his magic spelling away her underwear.
Severus couldn’t breathe. That obsessive, almost dark urge to please her overwhelmed him completely. He was pushing her legs apart, his fingers pulling her hair back, one hand already tracing circles around her bud of nerves.
It wasn’t enough.
A twist of his wrist left her completely naked, and he filled his mouth with the tender flesh of her breasts.
Hermione's head spun. She knew her lover had a deadly temper when provoked, but she didn’t anticipate it to make an appearance in a sexual way. The way he played with her tits was just shy of painful, his sinful mouth leaving a trail of little love bites around the nipples, close but never touching them. His fingers were not enough, she needed to feel the hot skin taught over his cock.

Hermione reached for him, grateful he hadn’t yet finish tucking in his shirt and left the thick leather belt hanging open. As she managed to pull him out, she licked her fingers before sliding them over the tip of his throbbing erection.
A throaty whine escaped her parted lips as she pushed her chest forward, desperate to feel him play with her nipples like he had the night before.
Severus’s eyes were like one of a madman as he curled his lips into a playful snarl and put her out of her misery.
He kept his hand steady, fingers wet from her arousal. He kept sliding them over her clit, caressing and massaging, demanding her to let go completely. He snapped his hips forward, her hand guiding him to seek friction at the apex of her thighs. He nudged his cock at her, then moved away. The temptation was once again getting the better of him.
Hermione was biting her lips, and Severus leaned forward to suck at her tongue as he brought her to completion. He marveled at the sensation of feeling her core clench under the tips of his fingers, her slick folds growing incredibly moist. By the way he could sense her inner walls pulse with abandon, Severus knew his witch was once again thoroughly ravaged.
Then Hermione surprised him as she pushed him backwards, making the back of his knees hit the edge of their bed. He sat down, eager to see what she had in mind.
Hermione slid to her knees as if she was still completely boneless, her eyes glazed over from the pleasure he brought her. She stuck out her tongue and licked the drop of precome that beaded right there in the little crevice on his blunt purple head.
She enjoyed having the big, dark wizard looking like he was about to faint from ecstasy. Still holding his erection in a firm grasp, she began to stroke him, her breasts rubbing at the coarse black hair that covered his legs. She kept her tongue out, licking him playfully every time her hand pulled the skin down. Feeling confident in what she’d read in the smutty books Violet got her hooked on a few summers back, Hermione kept her pace steady, her movements precise as she repeated them over and over until finally, she heard his panting hitch.
“Hermi..mione. I’m going..to...argh.” His hips snapped again, synchronized with her hand. Severus watched her lips as if entranced, the crease between his black eyebrows deepening.
She didn’t latch on to him completely. Instead, Hermione let him see how his come spurted into the cavern of her mouth, leaving a hot trail dripping off her tongue and down her chin. When his cock stopped pulsing and he fell back to lie on the bed, Hermione climbed on the covers next to him, pleased to see his eyes go wide as she licked her lips like a cat. Not one drop was left to be seen.
“That was…” Severus’s chest was still heaving, as he appeared to be left speechless.
Hermione leaned in and kissed him sweetly.
“Fiery? Passionate? Awesome?”
“Perfect, it was perfect.” He said breathlessly, before he kissed her back.

With their clothes back in place, Severus apparated them to that exact pavilion in the park near her parents house, where they had parted ways on a distant summer night. He crushed his lips to hers. The kiss was short and sweet and just a little desperate.
“That’s how I wanted to kiss you back then.” He said, draping an arm around her shoulders.

In a few minutes, they were at the Granger’s residence. The white duplex shone with little lights, glistening through the dark. They did not see Jean and David stealing a glance at them through the window as they approached.
“Oh, would you just look at them!” Jean sighed dreamily.
“They make a handsome couple.” David said carefully. He liked the man his daughter chose, but still. It was a completely different sentiment, knowing his only daughter was at last taking that leap into womanhood.

When the pair walked through the invisible barrier of their protective wards, the front door flew open and the Grangers welcomed Hermione and Severus in.
“Oh, honeypot! We are so glad you came.” Jean wrapped her daughter into a fierce hug. Her eyes twinkled as she observed the tall dark wizard standing awkwardly in the hall. Jean decided to make him feel at ease, so she offered him her hand again.
“Welcome back, Professor. Or should I call you Severus? Please, do make yourself comfortable, the dinner will be ready any minute now. Where the heck is David?” Severus felt as if he had been steamrolled by a giant sunflower.
“Yes...call me Severus, please.” He managed to gruff out. Then, he felt Hermione slide her hand into his, lacing their fingers. She led him into a bright dining room, where they sat next to each other at the dining table. David strode into the room, followed by his wife. They both caught how the dark wizard pulled out the chair for Hermione.
While David carried the steaming lasagna, Jean brought in a bottle of red wine. Severus observed the older couple, shifting around the table playing hosts as effortlessly as dancing a well rehearsed dance. There was no awkwardness, no fumbling. Never in his life did Severus have a chance to really see a functioning couple like this, decades into their marriage, yet still so lovingly aligned. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed with the powerful urge to do everything in his power to make sure him and Hermione could be just like this, in the years to come.

“Well, don’t be shy, dig in!” Jean waved her hand over the plates, and Hermione got up to ladle the food onto hers and Severus’s plate. For a while, they just took time to talk about their daily lives, the patients at the clinic, the neighborly updates. Hermione shared a bit about what she learned at the infirmary and how she was doubling down on her studies. David politely asked Severus about how the teaching is going this year. Plied with good food and amicable company, Severus surprised himself by replying earnestly. For some reason, he could not hold back around the Granger's.
Then, the door bell rang. Hermione squeezed his hand under the table, reassuring him. He stole a side glance at her. Hermione leaned in and whispered.

“I bet that’s Violet at the door - my Godmother. She always comes for dessert on Sunday.” Hermione could not hold back. Before straightening back in her seat, she pressed a small peck on his cheek. Severus felt his ears burn pink and was once more glad he wore his black hair this long.
The Grangers returned, followed by a short, curvy woman with a long mass of dark hair. Severus could see she was the same age as Jean, but looked completely different. There were hints of eastern oriental beauty features on her face, a piercing in her nose. Her ears riddled with small silver hoops, only a strand of gray hair here and there. She wore all black, a long shirt over some jeans paired with ankle boots and a soft wool cardigan.
Her chocolate brown eyes glinted curiously as she took in the sight of Hermione and Severus sitting side by side. Hermione rose and pulled Severus after her.
“Auntie Violet!” She exclaimed, wrapping the woman into a one handed hug, her other hand still holding on to Severus.
“Well, it sure is a pleasure to see you both!” Violet winked playfully.
“Madam.” Severus took her hand, and inclined his head over her tattooed knuckles.
“Oh, just call me Violet!” She said on a laugh, looking back at Jean.
“You did say he was charming, now, didn’t you?”
The woman was a firecracker. Between her and Jean, Severus could clearly see where his Hermione got her unique mix of sunny disposition and fiery temperament. They enjoyed some more wine and ate homemade tiramisu, while Violet got them all laughing with her stories of backstage life in the National Theater.
Severus suddenly felt himself growing anxious. The dinner was done and he should make his moves. For some reason, facing hoards of teenage students and running with the darkest wizards in Europe seemed like less of a challenge than talking to David Granger.
Severus forced himself to clear his throat.
“David, could I have a word? In private?” He said with practiced confidence. In times like this, occlumency was his go-to tool to remain calm and composed.
“Of course, Severus. The living room is this way.” David rose from his seat, taking his wine glass with him. He obviously trusted Severus to follow him, since he did not look back as they left the room. The women in the room grew quiet. Hermione’s heart was suddenly racing, knowing exactly what Severus intended to disclose to her father. It was time.
“Oh boy, that man’s picture should go in the dictionary as a prime example of ‘tall, dark and handsome’.” Violet said with a smirk.
“He is now, isn’t he?” Hermione smiled shyly.
“And now he is all mine.” Her smile grew wider, as she allowed the sensation of pure love wash over her.
“Mum, Violet. I came to tell you something. I will try my best to explain everything, but for now, maybe just listen.” She cleared her throat and went on. “You both know I had feelings, strong feelings for Severus for quite some time now. But as it happens, now that I reached my magical maturity, him and I …” Hermione paused, searching for words.
“There is something deeper connecting you, isn’t there?” Violet said, taking Jeans and Hermiones hands into hers. She always had a sort of sixth sense for these matters.
“Yes. We are soulmates. That means our very souls are entwined. We cannot find other partners in this world, for we are only meant for each other.” She said, a big breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in wooshed out of her.
“Oh Hermione, that sounds so romantic.” Jean beamed.
Hermione smiled. Her mother was such a dreamy soul.
“There must be more to this, Hermione.” Violet prompted, her razor sharp mind, just like Hermiones, always analyzing a situation from all possible angles.
“Well, the thing is, the connection we share is very deep. It is not just emotional, but also mental. We can share thoughts and sometimes even feel each others pain or pleasure. And we...well, one cannot live without another. When one of us dies, the other dies as well.” Hermione was blushing fiercely.
This situation was light years away from bringing home a boyfriend.
“I always knew he was it for you, you know that.” Jean said carefully.
“But this does sound...intense. I just want you to know, sweet child of mine, what ever you and Severus will need from here on out, we will support you.” Her hands squeezed her daughters.
“So what have the two of you been up to this weekend?” Violet prompted curiosly.
“He showed me the cottage he owns up in the Northern Scotland. It’s the one I’ve been dreaming of, remember? My dream cottage, as you’d call it when I was little.”
The twin gasps of the women beside her made Hermione relax again.
“He had built me a library in the sunroom. A courtin gift, he said.”
“I know people might find it odd we support your union with this man, honeypot. But to me, it is a relief to know you found someone who understands you this way. A library...that man must adore you.”
“I think I will go up and pack a few things I will need to move to the cottage. We can’t be out in the open yet, in the wizarding world. So spending time together…”
“Means hiding, doesn’t it?” Violet finished for her.
“Yes. I just hope it won’t be for long.”
For a moment, her Gryffindor bravado was all Hermione could hold on to. She knew well her parents were used to her big motions, but this was reaching grandiose scales even in Hermiones realm.
“Anyway, I am going up. You know where to find me.” She took the stairs without glancing back at the two women who, by the looks of them, couldn’t wait for a moment to talk this through on their own.

In the meantime, the living room contained two men, who looked at each other in silence. David took his usual place at the worn out brown leather armchair. Severus sat on a sofa opposite him feeling rather foolish, surrounded with heaps of floral cushions.
“So. You and Hermione.” David prompted, taking another sip of his wine.
“Yes.” Severus silently prayed he would find right words to explain himself.
“Do you love her?” David asked.
“Yes. I love Hermione with all that I am.” Severus realized he needed to get it all out.
“I understand this might come as a bit of a shock, but Hermione and I - we are soulmates.” He exhaled, looking at David. Exactly like his daughter, the man locked their gazes.
“That means our souls and fates from here on entwine as one. We live, feel and die together. It is a rare blessing, even in the wizarding world. Something rare and sacred.”
David was quiet for a moment.
“Why are you telling me this exactly?” He asked at last, breaking the silence. “Because I wish to have your blessing to marry her. Before the year is out, if possible.” Severus said the words with all the passion he felt for his little witch, finding new strength inside of himself.
“Pardon my language - but in the wizarding world, a bond like this simply needs to be consummated and we are from there onward considered wed until the death do us part. I do not want that.”
“You do not want what, exactly?” David replied, his face stoic.
“I do not want the life I am about to build with your daughter to start without any...rituals. I see them as an important foundation to a life well lived.”
“I see. I respect that. But you are still her Professor, won’t that be a problem?”
David himself didn’t mind the position the pair found themselves in, but he honestly wanted to know what this would mean for his daughter.
“For most people, we need to keep our relationship a secret. I detest that, but it is what it is. Our world is on the verge of war and the knowledge of our bond might put us into danger. You can never know who to trust these days.” Severus ran a hand through his hair, knowing being honest was his best strategy for this conversation.
“The Headmaster, Hermione’s head of house and a small number of people know about our union and had granted their support and protection. I wanted you to be a part of that small circle. I don’t want to be the reason Hermione would keep things from you.”
David had once again thanked the stars he had this man sitting in his living room, instead of being forced to suffer through a parade of clueless boyfriends teenage girls usually brought home until they finally settled a decade later.
“I need to tell you I am deeply grateful for your approach to the situation. But Hermione is only finishing her studies. How will you provide for her?” David knew his feelings on the matter, but if he could squeeze any more information from this man, he would do so.
“I have a house - a large stone cottage at the cliff side in Northern Scotland.”
“Having a house is fine, but living on a teachers salary?”
“I am the single heir to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, the only living one of my bloodline. I also have many patents registered bringing me additional money. I save most of my teachers salary since I have no use for it. Frankly sir, I am a rich man. What ever lifestyle Hermione would wish for, I could provide for it.”
David gaped at the man in front of him. With his modest demeanor, no one could tell one of the richest wizards in the UK was sitting in his living room.
“Very well. Tell me then, just this one last thing. What do you think Hermione should do after finishing Hogwarts?”
“Hermione is the brightest witch of her age. I believe she should follow her own dream. She is thinking about pursuing multiple masteries and combining the knowledge to create magical artifacts that are imbued with light magic, which is rare in the Wizarding world. Even if she changes her mind through time, I will support her in whatever she will choose to do with her knowledge. Even if that is in fact - nothing at all.”
Severus was firm on that. Hermione got to call the shots. Banking on her ambitions and intellect or not, he would be there for her.
“All I ask of you is to give me the blessing. Your own blessing to marry your daughter.” Severus stared at the empty glass in his hands now, waiting. He poured his heart out, it seemed, and found himself at peace with the way he stated his intentions.
David rose to pour them both a tumbler of whiskey. Placing one glass in front of Severus, he extended his hand to the slightly disheveled wizard.
“Welcome to the family, son.”

The two men toasted. As glasses clinked and throats burned, David felt himself in a need to share a wisdom or two.
“My wife and I, we have a big age gap too. Twenty one years. She was just over twenty two when we’ve met. Of course, it took me seven years to come around and marry her. She had to trick me, you know. She convinced me and everyone in our dentists practice, she was leaving for Australia.” David sighed, lost in memory.
“It was her last day at work, that she asked me to carry her suitcases into a taxi. I broke down and asked her to stay. We married in a month.” Severus felt it was best to keep quiet and take in the tale.
“It was only in that month before our wedding, when it dawned on me all that held me back from Jean all those years, was the fear of how people would react. I was her boss. I was two decades her senior. In the end, none of it mattered.” Severus was unsure of what to say.
“Do not worry yourself with how the world will see you. Love her. Make her happy. And don’t mock about with proposal for too long, son. You will only drive yourself crazy thinking about it.” David laughed, raising a glass.
“To Hermione. And to true love.”
Severus clinked his glass to Davids once more, realizing, this was the first time he got accepted into a family, a union, for nothing more than being himself. He felt a smile tug at his lips.
Thinking how Hermione told him she missed her family being present for a bigger part of the important milestones in her life, now that she lived in the wizarding world, he felt himself let go of all the elaborate ways he’d thought of proposing.
“Are you saying I should get it over with?” He smirked at Hermione's father, pulling a velvet box out of his pocket.

Hermione just finished her packing. Looking around her childhood bedroom, the space felt small and empty. She placed the three boxes and two bags on the bed, wondering if Posy would respond to her call already.
“Posy?” She said hopefully.
Crack. The little elf looked at her with wide eyes.
“Oh! Mistress called Posy!” She hopped joyously.
“Yes, can you take these things back to the cottage and put them away? I will come back for more, but this will do for starters.” Hermione paused, biting her lip.
“Please?” She said, looking at the little elf.
Posy squeaked. She jumped and hugged Hermione. The witch just froze, unsure of how to properly respond. Then she tentatively patted Posy’s head.
“Thank you, Posy. You’re the best.” She smiled widely now.
“Posy is so happy to have such a kind Mistress. Master was so lonely. So sad.” The little elf suddenly turned to the pile of things Hermione left on the bed, as if only remembering she had a task to complete. With one snap of her fingers, the pile was gone. Posy turned to Hermione.
“Posy shall see you next week, mistress.” She chimed. And with another crack, the little elf was gone, too.

Quietly smiling to herself, Hermione went downstairs. It was oddly quiet. There were candles lit on the dining table, and a few more on the terrace. The door leading out was open. Hermione headed out, wondering just what mischief her mother and Violet were up to now. She and Severus should probably be leaving for Hogwarts any minute now.

Severus stood in her mothers garden, surrounded by the last remaining flowers of autumn. It was two shrubs of osmanthus, an eastern plant with late autumnal blooms that smelled so potently Hermione charmed them to grow here despite being in an unsuitable climate.
It was dark, just a few candles scattered in her mothers summer lanterns. Her wizard stood there, his black eyes trained on her. Just when she reached him, he kissed her mouth gently. Taking her hands in his, he knelt down in front of her.
Hermione’s breath hitched.

“Hermione, my love. The fates created us to complete each other. I would like to believe that even without the bond, we would find our way to be together.” Severus paused, his deep melodic voice all but trembling with emotions. Hermione felt like she couldn’t breathe. He let her feel all that went on inside of him, the golden threads of the bond between them inviting her to accept the wizard that burned for her.
“I belong to you, heart, body and soul. In this world. In all the worlds. I do not wish to be parted from you ever again.” He kissed her hand gently, before locking his eyes on hers.
“Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Opening a green velvet box, he presented her with a delicate, gorgeous ring. It was a band of white gold, an oval shaped emerald nestled in the center, enveloped by two leaves of a ginko tree, the stems of which connected into a circle.
“Yes! Oh, yes, Severus. I will marry you.” Hermione beamed, silent tears of happiness sliding down her cheeks. Severus nestled the ring on her finger, standing up. He pulled her into his strong embrace, spinning her in the air as he kissed her passionately.
“I love you.” He murmured against her lips, a wide smile on his complicated face.
“I love you.” Hermione echoed his words.

Jean, David and Violet turned on the lights in the living room, and clapped from the doorway.
“Congratulations!” Violet rose her glass in toast.
“To Severus and Hermione!” David joined in.
“May their days in the sun be as everlasting as their love.”

Chapter Text

To most of the people residing at Hogwarts, it was just another ordinary Sunday night.

The girls dormitory in the Gryffindor tower was completely dark.
Hermione sat on the edge of her fourposter, gazing through the window. She could not hear other girls breathing - they all resolved to use silencing spells on their beds. She cuddled deeper into the black t-shirt she took from Severus, inhaling his scent.
Bergamot. Spices. The salty breeze of the cliffs.
Still, she could not settle. One night with him. That was all it took. One night, and she could no longer go back to being on her own. She needed him. In her life, in her space, in her mind.
“Can’t sleep?” His deep voice entered her thoughts.
“No.” Hermione opened up to the connection, letting the warmth of their bond course though her.
“Is it weird that I just spent the entire weekend with you, and yet I crave your presence?”
She was frustrated with herself. Hermione Granger was not one to be clingy and needy. She was to become a confident, strong woman.
“I think it is natural for us to cling to each other. Our bond...it is still so fresh and tender. It wants us together.” He said, calming her nerves immensely.
“But I don’t mind. I miss you, too.”
“Really?” Hermione sounded a bit self conscious.
“Really.” His voice grew soft, reassuring her.
“I can’t wait to marry you. I want you by my side, Hermione. Here, in my quarters. In my bed.”
Hermione could hear him yawn. They did have a long and eventful day behind them.
“Lay down, my little witch.”
She did as he said, tucking herself under the soft covers.
“Are you wearing that t-shirt you packed in the morning?” He asked.
“Yes. It smells of you.” Hermione felt herself smile against the pillow. Her eyes were slowly closing as she listened to his deep voice. And Severus kept murmuring sweet little nothings in her thoughts until she was asleep.

Next morning, the fog was everywhere. Gone were any traces of a sunny weekend now behind them, as the students crowded into the Great Hall. Messy hair and groggy eyes.

Ginny pulled Hermione into an empty classroom.
“Well? How was it?” She practically squealed with excitement.
Hermione found her mind quickly dissecting all the events, ruling out what to say and what to keep a secret.
“Like a dream. The most amazing weekend. Ever.” She said, letting an honest smile bloom on her face.
She would do as Severus advised. She would stick to the half truths and avoid the rest. He told her to think of it as if she was taking on a role. A theater spectacle. People around her an audience to be convinced she was someone else.
“Well don’t tell me all the details, you minx. I really don’t want to know too much!” Ginny rolled her eyes, her words dripping with sarcasm.
Hermione laughed.
“Well.. he brought me flowers and took me to a castle ruins that inspired a novel I recommended him during our tutoring lessons in the summer.”
“Merlin! That is so sweet.” Ginny beamed at her. Hermione felt a little nostalgic, reminiscing of that fateful day at the Grimmaulds.
“You seem to be like two peas in a pod. Taking you on a bookish date, oh man.” Ginny giggled.
“He really gets you, now, doesn’t he?” She winked, a curiosity she held in finally finding a way out.
“Did he kiss you yet?” Ginny teased her friend.
Hermione blushed, thinking about all the ways Severus touched her in the space of two days. About all the love bites he left blooming on her skin, so she had to spend the quiet ten minutes in the privacy of her bed curtains, glamouring one after another.
“Yes.” She said, her voice dreamy.
“We kiss quite a lot, actually.”
Godric, her face was on fire. Hermione sincerely hoped she would get her reactions under control before she got back into the crowd.
“Sweet Circe! Do tell!” Girlish squeals filled the room as Ginny whooped and wiggled with pure excitement.
“Well? Is he any good at it?” Ginny’s eyes searched her face and her general appearance, trying her best to imagine the dark reclusive professor snogging her friend.
“Ooooh, yes.” Hermione smiled smugly, her fingertips ghosting over her lips. Feeling the redheads eyes grow sharper, Hermione knew she had to change the topic, other ways Ginny would keep grilling her on the state of their physical activities. And she had just the topic to do it.
“Sunday, we drove around on his motorcycle for a while. And we went to dinner with my parents afterwards.” Pausing, Hermione felt immense satisfaction at the astonishment on her friends face.
“He even met Violet.” She smirked.
“Now, he’s got full stamp of approval.” Genuinely proud of her future husband, being so effortlessly accepted into her family, Hermione glanced back into Ginny’s green eyes. They were wide as saucers.
“I don’t know what to comment first, honestly.” She coughed out.
“Snape and you on a motorcycle? Snape and you having Sunday dinner with your folks?” Her initial shock was melting away, and the redhead found herself laughing again, excited for her curly friend.
“He really doesn’t leave any loose ends, now, does he? That truly sounds like proper courtship, Hermione!” Ginny was delighted to see Hermione so happy again. Come to think of it, the witch in front of her usually just gave herself away, never demanding anything in return. If Snape truly made her this happy and went out of his way to pamper her, who was Ginny to argue.
“Hermione and Snape, Hermione and Snape!” She chimed in childish sing-song voice, teasing. Hermione smacked her shoulder and got up, ready to leave for breakfast.
“Shut up, you! Go snog your own wizard before you get us into trouble.” She said in a fake angry voice, pulling Ginny back into the hallway.

With most students tucked back into the routine of morning classes, Severus took his free period to stride into Dumbledores office. Daylight painted blue shadows over the big oval chamber, glinting off the old wizards spectacles.
“Severus?” Dumbledore sounded curious. “You wish to speak to me?”
“No news from Voldemort. I suspect it won’t last until the end of the week though. He never keeps silent for more than ten days at best.” The dark wizard fell quiet for a beat, as if checking the words he was about to speak were actually true.
“Hermione and I are getting married in December.” He stated in his usual cold voice, skipping the niceties.
“I see. So you decided to acknowledge the bond at last.” Dumbledore’s statement was caught somewhere between a fact and a question.
“I needed to make sure we were safe, first.” Severus replied courtly.
“If you truly intend to tell her everything, you will have to find a way to protect her mind as well as yours, Severus.”
“And here I thought I was in for well wishes.” Severus suddenly could not erase the bitterness from his voice.

“You are, Severus. We are overjoyed to see you and Hermione joined in such a sacred union. But Albus is right nonetheless.”
Minerva appeared from the corner of the room. She must have entered as a cat, since none of the wizards sensed her approach.
“I will do everything to protect her.” Severus stated quietly, but there was still anger in his voice. A fire in his eyes, Minerva realized she’d never seen in the man.
“She is wearing my ring, she will wear my name, she will…” he almost said it. He almost let himself utter his deepest wish.
She will carry my children.
“...she will have my protection.” He finished at last, his voice just slightly more biting than before.
“Severus, I -“ Minerva seemed to be at the loss of words.
“Don’t you dare try and make this hard on us. I know she is still your student, but she is my soulmate.” His eyes reduced to mere slits, his face contorted, Severus felt like he could spit fire.
“And I will do right by her. With or without your interference.” He added reverently, feeling Hermione reach for him through the bond, trying to soothe his nerves. His pale hand shot up, rubbing at his chest, where Hermione’s warmth begun to spread.
“She is sacred to me. I will always protect her. Honestly, how dare you?!”
“I am not your enemy, Severus!” Minerva burst out, trying her best to keep her head.
“But you cannot ignore the signs of a war which is upon us.” The elderly witch paused, but could not hold back.
“A war in which you and Hermione both seem to be of vital importance. I will worry about the two of you all I like.”
“Then help me. Help me win this war for her.” There was a trace of desperation in Severus’s deep voice now.
“This is the only way we can truly be together. Don’t you think I know that?” Minerva and Albus stared at the dark wizard.
It was a rare and incredible sight to see the walls around the man crack and the real person come through.
“We will help you, Severus.” Minerva said, steeling her spine.
“By what ever means necessary.” The witch dared to step forward now, lifted a hand to cup his face suddenly. Soft and maternal.
Severus had not known what to make of that, it was an emotion so long forgotten. Had he ever really had a mother? He wondered.
Suddenly, it struck him. He had a family. Hermione’s parents took him in without skipping a beat, but Minerva...she was always steering him clear of trouble, ever since he came to Hogwarts all those years ago. Always silently making sure the boy no one seemed to notice was eating, keeping up with his studies and punishing the boys who bullied him. Even if they were from her own house. When he took on the teaching post, it was Minerva that helped him form a foundation for the way he now taught.
Minimal number of cauldrons ruined. Minimal number of injured students in his class. Minimal number of points deducted from the members of his house.

Not knowing what to make of that, he silently sat into one of the ornately carved chairs. At last, the three were able to settle down and discuss all manner of things. From how to grade Hermione’s assignments, to moving her to his quarters. Any wedding plans were signed off as undecided until Severus managed to confirm them with Hermione.

It was almost ten o’clock when he left the Astronomy tower and Severus once again reached out to his little witch.
Oh, she was a good girl alright, sitting in her classes, trying her best to balance out everything that was inside her with what went on around her. Severus felt genuine pride fill his chest.
“I spoke to Dumbledore and McGonagall.” He stated, his emotions once again at peace.
“Will you join me in my quarters after being done for the day?”
Hermione smiled to herself, feeling giddy at the prospect of them being alone again.
“Sure. Is everything alright? I sensed you before...you were angry."
“Nothing of great importance. I just had to set some things straight. All done now, don’t worry.” He stated calmly.
“I know you are already ahead of your studies, my love, but try to focus on your classes now. We will talk in the evening.” With all of that said, Severus quietly retreated from the space in his mind that connected them.

The way their bond worked felt instinctive, he never had to focus or think about how to find it, how to reach out to her. He wondered, whether Hermione felt the same, or was it just his skill at mind magic helping him navigate.
Severus pondered the idea of teaching her everything he knew, just to keep her safe. To keep her in control. He smirked at the interesting paradox that went on inside him.
He and Hermione had so many things to discuss, to learn and arrange.
And yet...all he really wanted to do, was just kiss her. Hold her. Touch her, for hours on end.
Shaking his head, he entered the classroom. Striding towards his desk in the front, he felt his stern professorial aura descend upon him. He had a role to play. No one could tell there was a new bounce to his step. A warmth blooming inside of his chest. No one could tell, as he turned back to the students, the stern Professor Snape was in fact newly engaged.

The hours of classes dragged on, but Hermione was firm with herself not to lose focus on her studies. She imagined with her studying and his teachings, they will soon find a rhythm of work that will satisfy them. They were both meticulous and goal oriented. Very similar in their work ethics and devotion to the academic interests, so Hermione did not worry herself over it. With Severus as a partner, her hours spent with her nose stuck in a book will not be a source of an argument.

The classes ended for a lunch break before they would finish their day with a double period in Defense. Students trickled out of the History classroom, when Hermione heard two familiar voices calling after her.
“Hey Mione, where have you been? I did not see you around the castle the whole weekend!” Harry stated, clearly in a good mood.
“I’ve gone home, visited my parents.” She said carefully, sticking to the story she told Ginny.
“I told Ginny, didn’t she say anything?”
“Oh yeah, right, she did mention something.” Ron scratched his head, feeling oddly confused.
“I guess it was when we played Quidditch, so I did not really listen. Sorry.” He said, rolling his shoulders.
“We are going down to the Quidditch pitch after dinner, wanna come watch?” Harry prompted, obviously trying his best to casually invite her along.
“No, sorry, I can’t. I have to study.” Hermione said, feeling just a little guilty about not having time to spend with her friends.
“Study what?” Said the boy while he fixed his glasses for what was probably the fifth time in the last hour.
“We are only half way through term.”
“Blimey, Mione, what’s one night without a book?” Ron chimed in.
Hermione felt a bitter taste in her mouth. So now they suddenly decided she was back in the gang? And she should do what? Drop all her plans and come back running? Like hell. She sighed, reminding herself she didn’t really want to fight with them. Again.
“Look, don’t tell this to anyone. Dumbledore has offered me to take my NEWTs a year early. And I had spent the last month and a half volunteering at the Hospital wing.” Hermione paused, her face serious.
“I will try to make time for you, honestly. But I have to uphold the arrangements I made with the staff.” They boys looked at her with pure shock on their faces.
“Bloody Hell, Mione.” Was all Ron could muster. Harry was looking a little more pensive.
“Why?” Was all he asked. Knowing Dumbledore’s schemes all too well, he knew there was more to headmasters offer.
“The war is coming, Harry.” Hermione said, looking straight into his green eyes.
“And I am a muggle born witch. I need to be able to survive outside of Hogwarts.”
She needed to be done with school and equipped with knowledge that would allow her to stand by her husband. But the boys didn’t need to know that.
Harry kept their eyes locked, wheels in his head turning at full speed.
“So he is training you to keep me alive through all of this.” He said at last. There was resignation in his voice. As always, thinking it was somehow about him.
Unlike Ron, who kept his narrow view focused on the present, Harry was like Hermione, looking forward. To all the things good and bad, that were yet to come.
“He gave me a mission, too.” He said at last.
Hermione looked at him.
“I wish you’d tell me. How about taking an afternoon at the lake some time this week? I think I can make time, so we can talk.” She offered, hoping it would not interfere with whatever plans Severus made for them.
“Tomorrow.” Harry said at last, nudging Ron with his elbow.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Mione!” Ron huffed out, rubbing at his ribs.
Hermione smiled and took a seat at the table, now comfortable to be placed between Ginny and Neville, hoping the boys would not pay any mind to the fact she would not be found in the library this evening. If Harry remembered to check his blasted map, she’d be in trouble.

“There is definitely something she is not telling us.” Harry said to Ron after they headed out to the courtyard, their brain already tired and their bellies pleasantly full.
“Stop being so self conscious around her, mate. She is still our ‘Mione, even if she bites your head off from time to time.”
Ron shuffled his big feet, thinking back on how defeated Hermione looked back in the summer and in those first weeks of school. He felt awfully guilty, thinking their fights were the only reason she’d spent the previous weeks alone and out of sight.
“It’s just that all this bloody hormones, Harry. They’re driving me crazy! I don’t know what to say to her. I feel like from now on whenever I open my mouth, I’ll say something reckless and …” Ron trailed off, seeing Lavender turn around and wink at him. Harry laughed, slapping a hand over the gangly ginger’s back.
“Yeah, mate. Now that Lavender has set her eyes on you, I believe Hermione is going to be the least of your problems.”

Minerva McGonagall was not a spy like a certain dark Professor, but she knew how to be stealthy and she definitely knew how to pick her moments.
When Hermione left her lunch at the table to retreat to the alcove on the third floor she usually frequented, her Head of house was already waiting there.
“Oh, I am sorry, Professor McGonagall. I was just…” Hermione startled when she found her usually solitary space occupied by the elderly witch.

“I was hoping we’d be able to have a private conversation, Miss Granger.”
“Yes, of course.” Hermione nodded carefully.
“Do you mind casting a few privacy spells? I hear Severus taught you well.”
If Hermione saw a playful glint come into her eyes, she did not let it show. Instead, she turned and quickly cast an array of spells with what could only be described as practiced precision.
A silencing charm. A repellent charm. A protective barrier.
“That should do it.” she said, wiping her brow as she turned back to face Professor McGonagall.
They remained quiet for a few beats, before Hermione saw McGonagall’s eyes crinckle with delight.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you.” Hermione said shyly, not sure about how to behave.
“Do you...do you want to see the ring?” she said at last, feeling like she should try to fill the void somehow.
“I’d be delighted.” McGonagall nodded with enthusiasm.
Hermione dismissed the glamour she cast on the ring in the morning and found the usually stern witch in front of her smiling with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, he chose well didn’t he?” A sense of pride in her voice was unmistakable.
“Severus is like a son I never had, you know...I am so happy to know he will marry you...Hermione.”
The use of her first name came as another surprise, somehow surpassing the barrier set between a student and a teacher. Suddenly, the quiet understanding, even friendship that seemed to bloom between Hermione and the Transfiguration mistress had been acknowledged.
“We haven’t spoken about the wedding plans yet.” Hermione said, thinking out loud.
“But it would surely mean a lot both of us to have you there.”
Hermione stopped for a moment, thinking how she really needed to sort through her wishes regarding the ceremony.
“I means a lot to us to have your support.”
Professor McGonagall beamed even brighter, looking at least a decade younger.
“If there is ever anything you need, anything that worries you, I want you to come to me. I will try to help you as best as I can.”
Her voice was solemn now, her promise as sure as the stone that upheld the castle. Blinking her tears away, Professor McGonagall pulled her shoulders straight and turned to the door to take her leave.
“Love him, Hermione. He might not show it, but he needs your love, your light. Desperately, if I may say so myself.”
A heartbeat passed as the words sunk in.
“Run along now, you don’t want him taking your points for tardiness.”

Hermione replayed the conversation inside her head at least a dozen times on her way to the Defense classroom. Somewhere along the way, she remembered to glamour the beautiful ring on her finger and thought not for the first time, how everyone’s faces would look like if they knew.
If they knew that it was none other than Professor Snape that put it there.

The Defense lesson went on smoothly. Severus was being his usual surely self, the curtain of his black hair falling sharply over his angular features as he marched through the rows of students, analyzing every aspect of every spell that was cast in the classroom.
They were tackling the task of consecutive casting, trying different variations of spells stringed into one set. It was useful practice to gain speed, to train focus and to learn not all spells worked in combination.
Some spells were more compatible than others. Keeping one eye on McLaggen, who tired to act as if he’d found himself another target, Severus knew the boy was not done acting up. But for now, his attention was needed elsewhere.

The Potter boy seemed to unknowingly take over his lesson as he cast one successful series of spells after another.
Severus begrudgingly admitted to himself, despite the chosen spells being pretty basic in their separate nature, they worked wonderfully in tandem. More and more pairs left their practice to watch the boy cast at the dummy target on a roll of pure concentration.
“Get back to your posts.” He bit out angrily, dismissing the small crowd without as much as a raised voice.
“Mister Potter. If you find our current task too simple for your abilities, I invite you to try and test the combinations of the spells on the page four hundred fifty three.” Acid dripped from his words, but Severus couldn’t care less. He turned away from the boy only to find his feet were already carrying him towards his future wife.
How he hated hiding their relationship.
Steeling himself, he watched the sequences of the spells she sent flying through the air. She might not have Potters quick hand or his ability to turn simple spells into powerful weapons, but her casting was precise, her choice of hexes and other charms creatively adding up to what would be a devastating experience for her opponent. 
Suppressing a chuckle that bubbled inside his head, Severus thought once again he would not want to find him self at the other end of his little witches wand.
“Why are you combining the transfigured objects with the levitation and targeting spell?” he taunted, unable to resist communication.
“Because this way anything as mundane as a hairpin can become a flying dagger.” Hermione replied simply, just a hint of smugness in her voice.
She sensed his intrigue and his praise though the bond.
Of course she did.
“Insufferable...little...know-it-all.” Severus muttered.
And since it was no one but Hermione that paid attention, no one noticed his tone was no longer biting.
No one heard there was just a little fondness, a little heat and a little sweetness lacing his words.

Severus waited for the sound of her footsteps approaching the tapestry that hid the entrance to his private quarters. It was not a particularly nice thing to behold, but he preferred it to the nosy noisy nuisance that were the portraits.
He walked to it, secretly checking the corridor before letting his presence known. Hermione’s eyes looked straight into his, as he took her arm and pulled her inside.

The door behind them slammed shut as he pressed her against the nearest wall, his lips descending on hers. His kisses were ravenous. Prying her mouth open, his hand under her chin, partly tilting her head back, partly pressing on her neck with just the right amount of pressure for her to gasp and moan. Their tongues slid sensuously against one another, as they drank each other in.
Severus reveled at the sensation of her luscious curves pressing against his usually rigid body. Hermione’s hands clutched at his black robes, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. His other hand wrapped possessively around her waist, not letting go of her even as they came up for air, their faces still pressed together.

They breathed heavily, and Severus noticed with great satisfaction, Hermione’s eyes were hazy with passion.
“I don’t know how I got to deserve you little witch, but I sure as Hell am keeping you.” He kissed her again, gently this time, pouring all his love into the kiss.
“Hello, my love.” He said softly, this time, giving her one of his half smiles. The mask he wore all day melted at her touch and it felt like he was finally able to breathe again.
She brushed some of his black hair back with her hand.
“You’re the greatest man and the most brilliant wizard I know. There is no question of being deserving, Severus. Are we not equals in this relationship?” She said softly, pressing a small kiss to punctuate her opinion.
“Yes. Yes, we are.” He said solemnly, taking her hands into his and looking around his quarters, as if seeing them for the first time.
“And on that subject, I believe we have some things to discuss.” He led them into the living room, seating himself onto his beloved black leather armchair. He couldn’t resist pulling Hermione into his lap.
Severus was a whole head taller than her, so even with her sitting this close, he did not need to crane his neck. Hermione felt curious about the outlook of his private quarters, but somehow could not tear her eyes away from him. Etched into the sharp lines of his face were quiet competence and confidence that seemed not to seek no outer validation.
“We will need to keep track of the people who know. Draw a line somewhere. Not that I would not love to stride into the Great Hall and announce to the entire universe you belong to me, and only me. But until the war is over and you’re done with school, this will have to do.” He started to check off the topics on the invisible list somewhere in his mind.
Hermione listened to him carefully. She silently counted their confidantes and found them already stretched thin.
“I believe we’ve already reached our limit, Severus. Any more people will make it harder for us to keep track of who actually knows. Not that they’d intentionally reveal us, but mistakes happen.” She sighed, absentmindedly stroking his long fingers.
“I’d rather keep it secret than lose the luxury of being relaxed while we are together.”
Severus held her gaze, confusion snaking its way onto his expression.
“You don’t plan to tell Potter and Weasley?” He was still a little unsure of what place those boys held in her life.
“Aren’t they your best friends anymore?”
“No.” She sighed.
“Honestly, I no longer know what to make of them. They are like brothers to me, someone I genuinely care about, but not the center of my life. Not anymore, anyway.” She smirked, looking at him playfully.
“And to think I worried about talking you out of having them at our wedding.” He chuckled.
“With Voldemort inside Harry’s head? With Ron’s impulsive inability to think his words through before they leave his mouth? Yeah, I don’t think so.” Hermione said sarcastically.
Severus smiled at her, feeling grateful once more for her insightful nature. “Dumbledore wants to officiate at our wedding, if you agree.” He stated, searching her expression.
“But most of all...I would really like to hear your wishes for our ceremony, love.” Hermione took a deep breath. She thought things through, didn’t she?
“Yes, Dumbledore can officiate. I don’t want any fuss really. Nothing elaborate or fancy.” She stated, the words inside her bubbling up.
“A small, intimate ritual at our cottage?” She looked up at him now, locking their eyes as well as their minds, building a fantasy of it in her head, before she used the bond to allow Severus to peek into her mind.

The snow dusted their cottage and the cliffs. She stood with Severus under an arch of ivy and mistletoe in their back garden. Dumbledore, Minerva, Posy, her parents and Violet all there to celebrate with them. Large white candles lit the gardens around their cottage, fairy lights twinkling here and there. Their guests filled the dining room, laughter echoing through the house as they cheered to their new chapter of life.

Severus took her face in his palms, pulling her closer for a sweet kiss. For a few candid minutes, it was just the softness of their lips, the warmth of their breaths, the echo of their hearts beating in sync.
“You gave this a lot of thought, my love.” He murmured, his forehead pressed to hers, his fingers drawing little circles at the nape of her neck.
“It would give me great pleasure to make it come true. However...” he trailed off and watched in amusement how Hermione huffed, perfectly predicting the pause in his speech.
“I have one wish, too. I want us to be wed on the Christmas night.”
“Really? Why?” Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. He obviously surprised her.
“Guess.” He snarled playfully.
“So I can be your Christmas present?” She said on a laugh, testing the waters.
He just stared at her, his lips curved in a half smile.
“Because you are secretly a very religious person?” She teased, earning his disapproving raised eyebrow. Hermione laughed even harder.
“Because you want an excuse to make Dumbledore dress like a Santa Claus?”
Hermione was on a roll. Each idea she got was more outrageous and funny. Her mouth gained its autonomy and she could not stop it from spitting out all the craziness inside her head.
“No, Miss Granger.” He said, trying his best to remain serious and stern, but Severus felt a bubble of thunderous laughter filling him up, pressing to be released.
“Oh, come on! Just imagine, Dumbledore in a red muggle suit, laced with white fur. I bet he’d end up liking it so much it’d replace his usual purple robes. Than the entire school would wonder what the Hell happened that the Headmaster turned into Father Christmas as a fashion statement.”
The picture she painted was so outrageous, and so frighteningly close to the probable truth, Severus could no longer hold back. He could not pinpoint which of the images triggered it, but the bubble inside his chest burst and his loud deep laughter roared through the room. He didn't know when was the last time he laughed so hard. If ever.
Hermione laughed with him, burying her face into his chest as she tried to calm down. Teary eyed, she looked back up at him, her chest heaving.
“Why?” She simply asked again.
Something changed in Severus’s face as he prepared to tell her the answer. Gone were the traces of laughter. There was pure hunger in his eyes now, a predatory gaze pinning her to the spot.
It felt as if the world stopped spinning.
“Because when I finally take you, Hermione, when you finally wear my name...you’re not leaving my bed for days.”
Hermione felt her heart beat in her throat, her eyes wide. A rabbit caught in the headlights. Severus’s words would sound intimidating, if they did not make her body feel so hot, so tightly wound.

He pulled her closer, but instead of kissing her parted lips, he traced his hungry mouth over the pulse point on her throat. Kissed it oh, so lightly. Hermione could hardly breathe, her busy mind going blank. He licked at a spot on the back of her neck, sucking on it gently. That would leave a mark, she thought, but found she could not bring herself to care. She loved being marked by him.
His large palms slid down her body, molding her curves as if he was a sculptor, and she his clay. One of his fingers slid up her thigh, slipped under the edge of her underwear. Hermione parted her legs without thinking, her body soft and pliant. Dipping one finger in, he growled into her neck.
“Fuck, you’re soaked already.” He thundered.

He panted, trying to keep control of his own desires. Then, he lifted her in one smooth motion, walking into his bedroom.
One husky divesto took care of her uniform. Hermione found herself laid bare on his large black fourposter. Her sudden lack of clothes sent goosebumps all over her skin, but she hardly noticed. She was completely mesmerized by the sight of Severus, still covered in his black teaching regalia, kneeling at the foot of the bed.
His black eyes roamed over her naked figure with a possessive, passionate gaze.

Leaning forward, he pulled her legs wide apart, his eyes fixed hungrily at her dripping core. There was a reverence in the way he slowly inclined his head, his hot breath ghosted over her sensitive flesh before he finally, finally touched her. First, it was just a slow, sensuous lick. His tongue wide, sliding up, pausing at her clit. Then, she felt his big hands grip her ass hard.
He dove in.
His tongue plunging inside her slit, curling up before slowly pulling out for another lick, Hermione felt her head spinning. The sensation of his hungry mouth ravaging her like this was simply overwhelming.
Severus begun to let out small growls of pleasure, his deep voice vibrating through her sex. There seemed to be nothing in existence for him anymore, apart from the sweetness between her legs. Nudging her clit with his large hook of a nose every time his lips dipped lower, his long fingers squeezed at her flesh in rhythm with his mouth.
Hermione no longer had a sense of time or space. The room seemed to spin around her in circles. She simply closed her eyes and let go of any semblance of control. The pleasure coursing through her body was simply too decadent. She panted loudly, biting her lips on a broken moan, as she began to tremble.
Severus snaked his hands over her torso, cupping her breasts. Hermione cried out because Gods - he began to twist her nipples in time with his sinful mouth sucking her clit.
She was so fucking close to exploding she began to beg incoherently.
“Severus...please...oh Gods, oh...so close...pleasepleaseplease...oh…”
Hearing her voice break around his name as she pleaded with him, Severus felt a sense of manly pride take over. He was about to bring her over the edge and he was far from done.
There was another hungry lick, then two, then three, before the sensation of his wet tongue became too much. To sweet. Hermione pinched her eyes shut, as the waves of her orgasm overtook her. His arms pushed down on her, keeping her in place as he licked. Licked over and over until there was not a drop of slick left on her convulsing flesh. Hermione felt at loss of words, her nerves sizzling, her heart thundering inside her chest.
“Good girl.” Severus purred, his black hair tickling her thighs.
“Coming on my tongue so sweetly.” He pressed an innocent peck on the top of her mound, lingering.
“Your little pussy makes me so hungry, love, I could eat you out all day.”
Oh, Severus knew exactly what his words were doing to her. He felt her core clench in a post orgasmic spasm, and spread her nether lips apart once more.
“Well would you look at that. Another drop.” He drawled, before licking at it, his mouth barely touching her.
“Mmmm…” he moaned.
“Again!”
It was not a question or a request.
It was a command.

Hermione read about this in books, but never managed to come more than once on her own. Surprised, she realized she was still turned on, despite one mind-blowing orgasm.
“Yes, Sir.” Was all she could breathe out, before screaming with pleasure. He thrust two fingers inside her, not all the way in, just enough for her to feel the stretch. His mouth was kissing her clit, gently. This was no ravenous feasting from minutes before. This time, he was controlled and precise, meticulous in every touch. He moaned against her flesh, as he felt her tense up, her pleasure rising, her core squeezing his fingers so tightly she all but pushed them back out. This time, it was him growling at her wet and overly sensitive core that sent Hermione flying again mere minutes later. The sound, the feel of his tongue on her clit, his fingers stretching her. Hermiones body trembled as she came down from her high, completely overwhelmed. She needed to wrap around him urgently.
Severus got up on the bed with her, pulling her into his strong embrace. He covered them with his black cloak and kissed the top of her head.
“You did so well, my love.” He whispered, one strong hand curved around her while the other stroked her back. The way Hermione trusted him with her body without a second thought pleased him immensely.
“Now I get to wear this cloak all week, knowing it was wrapped around your naked body.” He smirked, an unmistakable sense of pride rolling off of him.

Hermione chuckled. Looking up, she pressed a soft kiss on his mouth, a bit surprised she didn’t mind tasting herself on his lips. Licking at them playfully, she pried them open, her tongue delving in. The kiss quickly grew deep and sensuous.
Severus was oddly turned on even more by the way she did not mind tasting herself on his mouth, than he was already from playing with her body. His throbbing cock was pressed against the curve of her thighs. Hermione covered his length tentatively, feeling him out.
“I believe turnabouts a fair play, Professor Snape.” She whispered against his lips, raising one eyebrow just like him.
She used his exact words from that long forgotten moment they shared in a hallway back in September. It was sweet. It was hot. It made Severus forget his need for control and give in.
This was Hermione. His Hermione. His soulmate.
He would learn to let go with her, just as she did with him. He would do anything to overcome his triggers and enjoy whatever she wanted to do. Feeling determined, he nodded shortly. He had already let her pleasure him back at their cottage, and found it surprisingly easy to be with her.

Hermione slowly got to work on his numerous buttons. She decided to undress him the muggle way, giving him time to relax. She pressed a small kiss to every part of his pale skin she uncovered.
“I imagined doing this with you so many times.” She told him shyly. There was an inexplicable urge inside her, to make him let go completely, to make him trust her and enjoy himself. So being open with him seemed like the best choice.
“Violet got me some smutty muggle novels a few years back. She told me in advance, they were full of romance and love, but also full of sex. After I read them, she recommended more and it got me hooked. I found it so liberating to get to imagine the insides of an adult relationship in such way. I spoke to her about it a lot, and the one thing she always told me was, to expect that. To except nothing less from a man.” Her whiskey eyes looked into his lovingly.
“I always imagined you, when I read those books. All the heroes, all the main characters. All the things they did, inside and outside the bedroom, I wanted to try them with you.” With a playful smile, she pulled down his trousers, releasing his erection.
“This especially.”
Severus hissed, his hands gripping the bed covers, as Hermione pressed the first kiss to his bulbous head. Then, she slid her palm around his base, her pink tongue swirling around the tip, tasting him.
It was Heaven. It was Hell.
He wanted to turn her over and take control. But he didn’t.
With each sweet hum, with each curious lick, her explorations grew more confident. Severus slowly felt the uncomfortable tension melt away, as he breathed heavily. The pleasure overtook his sensibilities. There was something so arousing about her methodical ways of exploring his body, her hands and mouth working in tandem to hold up his heavy cock, mapping out every vein and every ridge.
Then she got up on all four and dipped her head, taking him inside his mouth. He almost bucked his hips at the sheer pleasure. She sucked at what she could fit inside her mouth, before pulling back up and releasing him with a loud pop. She repeated the process a few times, obviously enjoying herself. Each time she dipped her head, she was able to take a little more of him. Each time she got back up, she sucked a little harder.
It did not take long after all that stimulation for Severus to feel his balls tensing, the bottom of his spine tingling.
He muttered curses under his breath. He breathed heavily, her name slowly becoming the only coherent word rolling off his tongue. Wrapping one hand into her soft curls, he guided her head as she took him even deeper, careful not to choke.
One more dip, than two, and he came.
He came so hard his legs shook.
“Oh, Gods! Gods, Hermione!” He growled her name, grinding his teeth as he pulsed and pulsed, spurting his hot seed deep into her throat. Hermione waited for him to soften a little, carefully breathing through her nose before she let go of him. She licked his cock clean, then curled into his side.
“Mmm, I really enjoyed doing that.” She whispered, her head resting on his chest.
“Only you can make me let go like that, little witch.” Severus replied in earnest.
Giddy with his honest praise, Hermione snuggled even closer into him, closing her eyes.

None of them knew, when they fell asleep.
None of them realized, she did not return to her dormitory, or that certain people noticed them missing at the dinner in the Great Hall as they slept deep down in the dungeons. Their naked legs tangled, their fingers laced as they dreamed of each other.

Chapter Text

Draco sat at the Slytherin table, his silver eyes looking at the empty spot where Granger usually sat. No one payed any mind to the fact that she and the head of Slytherin were absent at dinner at the same time. But Draco knew better.

What in the name of Merlin were they thinking!?
Use deduction, he told himself.
Dumbledore surely knows of their relationship. Who else would they trust? McGonagall? Most likely.
Potter and Weasley on the other hand, seemed to be surprisingly oblivious to the fact that their curly haired friend was deeply involved with the exact professor they so obviously despised for years. Probably for the best.
There was the youngest Weasley, Potters girlfriend, who looked like she could be Hermione’s confidante. Perhaps she knew something and covered for her, but Draco found it unlikely she’d know the whole truth.
Resolved to put his worries aside for the day, the blonde left the Great Hall only to stumble upon a clearly agitated Potter in the hallway, a large parchment in his hand.
“Look! She clearly is not at the library! There is not a tag with her name in the entire school. She said she would study!” The wonderboy paced back and forth. Draco slid behind a stone pillar and whispered a notice-me-not spell just to be sure. His breath was short and shallow, measured to make him as soundless as possible.
“Sure, Harry, I know you wanted to talk to her again about tomorrow. But you can’t loose your head over this. There are places at Hogwarts that are not properly covered on the map… so she is probably at one of those.” The redheaded witch supplied quickly.
Definitely an ally, Draco thought. Should he create a distraction, or go check on them? Warn them?
Salazar’s slimy slippers… frowning, he waited.
Work with what you have, Snape told him. When you’re a spy, you have to gain information and find ways to manipulate the situation with as little of direct involvement as possible.

“The room of requirement!” Potter smacked his head.
“She must be there, practicing Merlin knows what. Maybe she lost track of time, let’s go get her.” His girlfriend had a worried look on her face, as she tried to stop him.
“Harry, I am sure Hermione will be fine getting back to the dorms on her own! Why don’t we go to the tower and snuggle in that corner couch you like? We can wait for her there.” At the end, the redhead was practically purring her words.
Draco would never turn down an offer like that, but Potter’s thickness never seized to amaze him. The black haired menace shook his head, frustrated.
“Look Ginny, you can go back to the tower with Ron, but I am going to look for Hermione.”
He sighed, his face determined.
“I’ve been a lousy friend to her. She had to cling to that bloody Snape at the Halloween party just to get away from McLaggen, and I didn’t even notice he was harassing her.”
Draco smirked silently, imagining Potters shocked face if he actually knew the reason Granger clung to Snape. All fun aside, there was more to what Potter was not saying, then in what he was. Something was going on, and Draco wanted to know what was what.
If Draco ever did anything as tacky as placing a bet, his galleons would be on Potter needing Granger’s brain to help him save the day. Again.
Ginny Weasley reluctantly went with her brother, as Potter rushed in the opposite direction. Wand out, but his map was luckily tucked into his back pocket.
Draco sighed with relief. He would have much more trouble throwing Potter off track, if his nemessis could trace his movements. Taking another shortcut here and there, Draco ran through the corridors like crazy. He simply had to be faster than Potter, if he wanted his plan to work.
Finally, the entrance to the ROR was before him, and he quickly called for the room to open up and remain open to others to enter as well. As if he was standing in his sitting room back at the Manor. As if he himself came there to practice...what ever. He donned the alter ego of an heir as if it were a shield.
Truth be told, Draco spent so much time here as of late, he felt more safe and more at home then any place else.
Here, he was the king.

He heard Potters footsteps approaching and steeled his spine. The door flew open, his school nemesis walked through with purposeful stride.
“Hermione!” He heard him call out.
“Where are you?”
With Potter muttering something about a stubborn witch and her love for books, Draco decided this was his moment.
He stepped out of the shadows, towering over the boy.
“Looking for something, Potter?” He spat out.

Potter turned on his heel, wand at the ready.
“Expelliarmus!” He shouted, but got nothing. His spell rebounded from the shield Draco erected on instinct.
“That move is getting old.” He taunted, sounding bored.
“You should learn from Snape while he still teaches DADA. Perhaps you will finally muster something stronger than that.”
The two stood a few steps apart, Potter’s loud breaths vibrating through the dusty air.
“Where is Hermione?!” Potter shouted.
“What did you do to her?”
“Lost our precious mudblood, have we?” Draco drawled.
His face was pure arrogance, but inside his head, Draco was reeling with frustration. Be creative? Make things up on a spot? What was he supposed to do now?!
“I have not seen her.” He stated sardonically.
“And why would I want to have anything to do with her?” Proceeding to brush an invisible lint of his lapel, Draco smirked at the wonder-boy.
“I don’t want to have anything more to do with her than I would want to get mud on my boots.” He finished quietly, his cold stare locked with the piercing green eyes of his enemy.
Oh, it was so easy to provoke him.
“But I do think that good friends would tell each other where they are going.” He kept taunting.
“Tell me, Potter, are you a good friend to Granger?”
That hit a sore spot.
“Death Eater scum!” Potter lunged forward, firing spells at him. Draco dodged the first few, but the last hex scorched his shoulder. Sharp pain radiated through his right arm, and for the first time in a while, Draco was happy he was left handed. Throwing up another shield, he took a few steps back.
“Granger was not here!” He bit out, his voice filled with warning.
“I don’t care. Why should I believe you! Fight back, you pompous ferret!” Potter yelled, veins in his neck popping out.
“Idiot! I am not getting into trouble over you or your fucking friend!” Draco growled back.
“Get lost before I report you for hexing me.” He bit out.
“Or do you want me to tell Snape? I am sure he can find a very creative punishment for an unsolicited attack on a fellow student.”
Growing pale, Potter finally caught up to speed with his words. After all, he did attack another student, while he still failed to find Hermione. His eyes stopped at the torn shoulder of Malfoy's uniform. Just below it, gleamed a spotless prefects badge. “That's right, Potter. I am a prefect, too. Run back to your tower, before I dock points.”
“Whatever. I need to find Hermione, anyway.” Potter muttered, obviously deflated. The signs he’d only just remembered the real reason he came up here, the boy’s face was marred with guilt as he scurried out, slamming the doors shut.

Draco sighed. His shoulder was pulsing with pain and he still needed to find a way to gain access to Snape. He didn’t even know where was the entrance to his private quarters...probably in the dungeons, that much was clear.
Then an idea struck him. Draco nearly forgot he was standing in the room that granted wishes. Fulfilled requirements. And he desperately required a way to enter Snape’s quarters. Maybe, just maybe, the sentient castle would grant him access.
The flames in the hearth in the corner of the room lit green as if someone threw in a whole jar of floo powder. Not particularly thinking about possible consequences, Draco walked into the flames.

The blonde wizard strode into what appeared to be Snape’s living room, as if he were a regular guest, dusting the soot off his torn school uniform.
“Godfather!” He called out into the dark room.
For a moment, Draco thought he got it wrong, maybe Snape and Granger were not even there.
Then, he saw Granger’s uniform, dropped into a pile on the floor.
His heartbeat spiked.
His pale cheeks flushed.
Oh sweet Merlin, why didn’t he think of that before he entered?

Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped to the entrance of another room, presuming it was were he’d find them.
“Godfather?” He called out again, keeping his eyes trained to anywhere else but the bed in the center of the room. He turned around quickly, as he heard the sheets rustling. There was a muttered curse and then another sound, probably one of them getting up. Draco returned to the living room, hoping he would get out of this alive.

Snape strode in only moments later, still buttoning up his trousers.

“Fuck!” He muttered again, before turning to Draco.
“What the Hell? How did you get in?” Snape croaked out.
Draco looked at his Godfather. Black trousers low on his narrow hips, a pale and heavily scarred torso ripped with lean, well defined muscles, his long black hair a mess. The man in front of him was suddenly much more human.
“I – khm. Well, I used the floo. From the Room of requirements.” Draco said carefully.
He never saw Snape like this before, somewhere between sleepy and irritated, but also really relaxed.
“Shit, I need to sever that connection. What happened?” Snape looked at him sternly.
“Potter began running around school looking for Granger, since she did not come to dinner. He uses some sort of a map to locate people around Hogwarts. Got his knickers in a twist because she didn’t appear to be on it.”
“The Marauders map.” Came a soft, sleepy voice from the door. Hermione pulled on the black shirt Severus left on the floor of the bedroom, her arms wrapped tightly around her body.
For a moment, both men just stared at her. Both of them acutely aware of the fact that she was in fact, completely naked under it. Her glamours were gone. All the love bites clearly visible despite the dim light. The engagement ring glinting on her hand.
Draco took one glance at her messed up curls and decided it was safer to fix his gaze elsewhere. On the wall behind her was a bookshelf, piled with thick tomes on all sorts of magic.
That would be his focal point, Draco told himself.
His lifeline.
Snape seemed to have other ideas, because he stepped behind the witch, blocking his view. Casually wrapping an arm around her waist in a possessive gesture. In answer, Hermione leaned back into his tall frame and visibly relaxed.

“Its an animated magical object, specifically designed to show everyone’s presence and location in real time and space.” She told the two wizards, her definition reminding Draco of the way she'd always speak up in class.
“It is one of a kind, and pretty accurate. I suppose there are some things, like the Chamber of secrets, or Professors personal quarters, that remain somewhat hidden or inaccurate because the makers were not aware of their specific location.”
“If that is correct, then it explains why it did not show you on the map. My personal quarters did not exist while the Marauders were still at Hogwarts. The castle opened them up or created them a few years later, when I took the post of the Potions Master.” Snape said pensively.
“What about the Room of requirement?” Draco asked.
“Well, it is a place that constantly changes, so by the law of transfiguration’s constant and continuance number twenty-seven …”
“…any spells requiring a single form object or being, such as a tracking spell, cannot apply.” Draco finished her sentence.
Hermione looked at him for the first time since she entered the room. Before she managed to comment on him being just as nerdy as her, her eyes stopped on his blood stained torn shirt.
“Malfoy, your shoulder!” She gasped, rushing forward.
“Sit down this instant. Why didn’t you say that you were injured?”
Looking up, she searched for other injuries.
“I can heal him, there is no need for the infirmary.” She said to Severus, needing confirmation.
“I suppose you can.” Severus said carefully.
“Draco, sit there.” He pointed to one of the black armchairs. Hermione looked at her lover, her mind open wide to him.
“Treat him, don’t worry about me. The sooner you heal him, the sooner we can fix whatever mess awaits outside.” Was his reply. With her back still flush against his body, Hermione could feel him wandlessly cast a quiet spell. All color drained from Hermione’s face as Severus slid her black underwear into her hand.
“You better put these back on, first.” He whispered into her ear, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Blood returned to her head on a rush, her cheeks burning with a blush that was nearly painful.
“Oh, I - I completely forgot.” She said, rushing back into the bedroom.
When she returned, Severus’s black shirt was gone and she was once again in her school uniform, her scourgified underwear and thigh high socks back in their place. She piled her curls into a messy bun and pushed her wand through it to keep them in place. Draco's eyes were fixed on the view of the black lake outside the charmed window. He could see the witch’s reflection as she moved about the room while Snape disappeared into what was probably the bathroom. She summoned what appeared to be the Potion’s master first aid kit. Obviously at home, Hermione didn’t notice her neck was no longer glamoured. Neither was the ring on her finger.
Draco eyed the evidence of the relationship taking root. She bent down in front of sitting Draco, unknowingly giving him another closer glance at her cleavage. She was too busy inspecting his flesh wound to bother with decorum.
“You will need to take off the shirt. I need to see the edge of the wound. These clothes need repairing anyway.” She stated, sounding a lot like a proper mediwitch.
“I’ve been assisting Madam Pomfrey for over a month now, so you don’t need to worry about my healing skills.” Hermione said, turning away from him to look at what healing salves were at her disposal.
Draco decided it was best to keep quiet, unless he would blurt out something that made her angry or uncomfortable. He did not know how to act around her, exactly. So he stripped in silence, feeling a little shy. It was awkward, exposing himself like this, even if it was not for any sexual reasons. He was a teenager for Merlin's sake, and a virgin at that.
Hermione looked him up and down, her face unimpressed as she raised her thin eyebrow just like Snape.
“Sit down, Malfoy, you’re too tall.” She said sternly, her eyes back on the wound.
“Tell me now, who hexed you?”
“Potter.” He ground out.
She was prodding at the red skin, gently. It was still torturous.
“A scorching jinx, but it only grazed me. His aim is a bit off when he casts too fast.”
Hermione hummed, picking a jar from the coffee table. She took her wand and cast a few diagnostic spells, studying the runes.
“I will have to heal it first, so the deeper part of the wound doesn’t fester. Then I will apply this salve to prevent any scarring. Do you want to take a pain potion before we begin?” She asked quietly, finally looking into his eyes.
Draco bit his inner cheek, shaking his head.
“No, thank you. I managed worse than this without any.” His chin jutted forward, a sign of pride and challenge.
“Just go on with it. Please.”
It was one thing to feel her prod and check at the wound. Another thing entirely to feel her magic wash over him, cleaning and healing the wound. The sting in his shoulder was slowly replaced with gentle strokes of a healing spell, soft as silk. Draco exhaled loudly, not even knowing he held his breath in.
Hermione opened the jar and massaged the green jelly-like looking paste into his freshly healed skin. It was cold, but her fingers weren’t. Her touch was feather light.
“Thank you.” Was all he was able to gruff out, after she finished. Hermione simply looked at him, her whiskey eyes sharp with intelligence. Draco instinctively straightened, his pride and composure back in place.
“You distracted Harry...when he went looking for me. Thats how you got hurt, didn’t you?” She said after a beat, her gaze unwavering.
But she was biting down on her lip and Draco could not stand it. He averted his eyes to the only window in the room.
“I waited for him at the ROR.” He stated, no longer able to look at her. His chest felt too tight.
“I bet you goaded him and he hexed.” She snarled, looking so much like Snape it was almost funny.
“Honestly, why can’t the two of you just converse like normal people?”
“Where is Potter now?” Snape asked, stepping back into the room fully dressed. Draco felt like running, when his Godfather looked at his exposed torso. He quickly reached for his wand and his shirt, trying to mend it while he explained how he sent the Potter boy back to his dormitories, tail between his legs.
“You managed to distract him, cover for us and keep him quiet all without actually throwing any spells. Well done.” Severus said, smirking.
Draco gaped.
Did he just make his Godfather proud?
Then he remembered to look at the grandfather’s ornate clock in the corner of the room. Realizing that they had another problem on their hands, the blonde turned to Hermione.
“You’d better get back, Granger, the curfew has already begun. You’re not on duty tonight.”
“Oh no, but you are!” She said, quickly gathering her things.
“I will escort you back, love. Should there be any more questions, I’ll say we’ve been … brewing.” Severus finished, donning his black robes over a fresh shirt.
Draco tried to suppress a chuckle desperately. Failing, he reverted to hiding it by coughing into his fist.
“I believe you swallowed your words, Godson. Care to share?” Severus drawled.
“I merely thought that sort of ‘brewing’ would be much more popular than what we usually do.”

To his shocking disbelief, Snape did not bite his head off.
Instead, the man let out a short laugh, the deep sound thundering through his torso. Then he lifted his imperious black brow, smirking with an air of relaxed confidence that Draco had never seen on the man before.
“Maybe you could suggest some literature on the matter, little witch? It seems the boy wants to learn how to…brew. Properly.” Severus's voice was dripping with playful undertones. Hermione blushed fiercely, tugging at her leather bag strap. Pulling up her Gryffindor courage, she simply gave him a quizzical look.
“I might be persuaded to write a book list.” Hermione winked at Snape. It dawned on Draco that they were already having inside jokes.
“Teasing, are we? No...I think lending him a selection will be more economical.” The taciturn man said with uncharacteristic playfulness.
Draco's curiosity spiked. Did the Gryffindor know-it-all really read up on sex as well? Or was that a muggle thing?
“I’d certainly want that. After all, you do owe me.” He said at last, his Slytherin nature making it impossible to turn down such an offer.
Instead of fighting him, Hermione’s lips quirked into a mischievous little smile, as she pulled Severus out to the hall, holding his hand.
“Come to think of it, you might find some of them quite...enlightening.” She retorted, stealing a playful glance at her dark lover, before turning back to Draco.
“After all, they are muggle.”

Hermione had to let go of Severus’s hand as they approached the painting of the fat lady.
Harry, Ron and Neville stumbled out of the entrance, just as she was about to recite the password. Taking a cautious step back, Severus caught her by the shoulders before she fell to the floor.
His body was rigid, his face already averted to the expressionless mask of bored indifference.
“What is the meaning of this commotion?” He drawled, sending the three boys shivering.
“I do believe the three of you were about to leave the Gryffindor tower after curfew.”
Severus looked down at the three boys. He felt immense satisfaction at the fact that despite Weasley and Longbottom being quite tall, he was still able to tower over them, setting his authoritative presence in stone.
There was a small, almost unnoticeable shift in Longbottom's stance, clearly keeping the other two quiet.
“H-Harry and R-Ron were wo-wo-worried about Her-mione.” The gaunt boy stuttered, desperate to overcome his nerves.
Setting his gaze on Hermione, he continued.
“They a-asked me to go look for her o-or report her missing to Professor McGonagall.”
“I see. And how, exactly did you know of her absence?” Severus kept prodding.
It gave him immense satisfaction to see the boys squirm under his piercing gaze. “Well, um…” Longbottom turned to Potter and Weasley, looking for a way out.
“She was nowhere to be found, and…”
“I went looking for her myself.” Potter stepped forward, his green eyes looking straight at the Potion master.
“I checked everywhere.” There were hints of accusation in his voice, as he turned his head toward his curly friend.
Severus had to reign in his own protective urges to defend his little witch.
“Indeed, Mr. Potter. I do believe I’ve heard all about your…thoroughness.” He retorted coldly, and hoped it was enough to shut him down.
Potter stood there, fuming, as Severus trudged on with one eyebrow arching high enough to make his expression alone announce to the boy not to push his luck.
“Miss Granger was with me, since I agreed to tutor her for the remainder of the school year. Not that this is any of your bloody business.”

“But -“ Potter tried to interject. He was certain he did not see Hermiones name anywhere near the dungeons.
“She was gone for hours!” Potter obviously tried to avoid explaining the map.
“Not that I need to explain myself to you, Mr. Potter. But for the sake of Miss Granger, I would think a potions prodigy as yourself would understand that brewing a perfect sample of veritaserum, which is, I might add, a staple at NEWT-level exams, takes exactly…“
“...four hours.” Hermione finished his sentence for him.
Feeling smug, Severus simply stared at the wonder boy, knowing full well they managed to shut him up for good.

Severus knew Potter was using his old notebook. Probably planted by none other but Dumbledore himself. How ever would other ways potion-classroom-clumsy Potter kiss up to Slughorn. Get him to help in any way Dumbledore wanted him to. He found he didn’t mind knowing the notebook would most likely get the boy into trouble. It would most likely serve both and the headmaster as a good lesson on how meddling is often a calculation gone wrong.
Ron and Neville looked thoroughly uncomfortable, shuffling their feet.
“I believe we better go inside.” Hermione’s words cut through the tension as they echoed down the deathly quiet hallway.
“Thank you...Professor. For walking me back.” She said, stealing another glance at Severus.
He inclined his head in a court nod, staying to watch her enter with the rest of the Gryffindors.
As Hermione climbed into the common room, she immediately heard his voice in her head.
“Let me know if there will be any more trouble, alright?” That made her smile.
“Of course. We’ll find a way around this, won’t we?” Hermione’s voice replied in Severus’s thoughts, sounding hopeful.
“Of course.” He echoed her sunny hope back, surprised again at how easy it was to enjoy life with her by his side.
“I almost forgot to tell you...”
“Yes?” Hermione thought eagerly as she walked through the groups of people, looking for an empty couch. She had already accepted the new normality in which she cherished his every spoken word as if it were golden. She loved to hear the deep melody of his voice rumble in her mind.
“I love you.”

Harry and Ron were of course, furious.
Neville looked concerned while Ginny seemed to be annoyed at the boys just as much as Hermione.
“You were with him?” Harry’s face contorted with anger as soon as they sat down in an alcove near the window.
Hermione no longer felt guilty over lying to her supposed friends. If this was the reaction she got for allegedly spending time studying, she rather would not know how they’d treat her if they knew the truth.
“Of course I was. I am taking NEWTs a year early! Who else is going to help me prepare myself in multiple subjects?” She said quietly, feeling like she did not need to explain herself, but would to so out of pure curtesy. The childish flames of anger packed with the need to overly explain her decisions. She was her own person, not a puppet.
“Professor Snape is the only one on staff who actually has the knowledge and the skill to teach most of the subject himself. Even at the most advanced level required, he knows it all. Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes. Do I need to go on? “ Hermione tried to mimic her future husband’s cool demeanor.
“Professor Snape currently holds the highest NEWT score since Dumbledore! Even quite equal to his, I might add. Do you even realize what a favor this is!? I might be able to finish Hogwarts before the war begins! Merlin knows I probably won’t be able to do it later...”
“And he is doing it on his own personal time?” Neville cut in, still a little disbelieving.
“What does he get out of it?”
“Mione, he’s never been kind to you in classes. Why the bloody Hell would you want to spend all that time alone with him?” Ron finally decided to chime in. Obviously remembering their summer argument, he rubbed at his long nose and sighed, deeply.
Hermione sighed, thinking the same thing. She didn’t want another fight. But she wouldn’t be bullied out of her time with Severus either.
“Brilliant men like him can be complicated. But he is the only one who can actually teach me. And I can take it.” Hermione said at last, trying not to sound too passionate about Severus.
“I still want to know why he is doing it.” Neville said pensively.
“Maybe he just likes company of someone who can actually equal his intelligence.” Ginny offered, trying to help out.
“He was actually quite kind to me, when he taught me some basic Occlumency exercises after the Chamber of secrets incident.” The redhead’s face became serious, thinking about that difficult year.
“I always thought he must be quite lonely.”
“If he ever tries anything dodgy, Hermione, you tell us!” Harry and Ron chirped in unison.
Trying her best not to think of the brewing she and Severus actually did that afternoon, Hermione simply nodded, her cheeks going pink.
Ginny noticed and smirked. Jabbed her with an elbow.
“Only if she doesn’t like it. Right, Granger?”
The girls burst out giggling at the astonished faces of three boys on the other side.
“EW!” Ron was the first to come to his senses.
“That old bastard?”
“He’s not old, Ron, he’s thirty-six. That’s still quite young even by muggle standards. Besides, I heard that age difference is not as big of a deal in the wizarding world, isn’t that right, Neville?” Hermione inquired, quietly satisfied that the conversation turned from angry to teasing. And she was on the winning side, seeing how pale were the boys.
“Yes, khm. Indeed, my grandmother and grandfather had a twenty-something year gap. My cousin and her betrothed are about eighteen years apart…come to think of it - it’s actually quite common.” Running a hand through his hair, Neville looked seriously weirded out.
“Sweet Merlin, Hermione, I never thought about Snape being..you know. Human that way.”
“He can be quite sweet, once he lets you in.” Hermione said, smiling to herself.
“He always walks me back and makes sure I am safe.”
“And he is not that bad to look at.” Ginny teased, curious about what else will her friend spill on this impromptu get together.
Despite the fact that the teasing melted away some of the tension, Hermione still felt a bit bitter around the edges. A bit disappointed in the harsh face of reality.
It felt cosy, being all snuggled up with friends in the common room after a long time, as if all the previous months of anger were slowly making way to the easy comradery.
“Huh. He is so built up under all those robes - I tell you, Malfoy and McLaggen are stick figures compared to him. But I guess his height makes it less obvious.” Hermione mused. “Blimey, Mione, how do you know that?” Ron was sincerely shocked.
“Back in the summer, he usually wore shirts without any teaching robes. Rolled up his sleeves. I tell you, that man is built of marble.”
Ginny giggled like crazy, while the boys just groaned, chanting ‘too much information’ as if that would save them from realizing that Snape was actually a man. Flesh and bones.
“Just… next time, let us know, before you disappear like that, ok?” Harry said, still not liking the whole situation.
“You did not seem to care where I was or who I was with for the previous months, Harry. Not to even mention you hexed Malfoy today, just because you got agitated.” Hermione felt the bitterness return with full force, deciding these friendships could only go on with some semblance of honesty.
“Look, I get that you are having a lot on your plate, Harry. But if we are friends, than you can’t just ignore me one day and next day go off running around the castle looking for me.” She paused, thinking about all the months of conflict between them.
“I was the one who healed Malfoy’s shoulder today, did you know? If he or professor Snape insisted on going to the Hospital Wing, the incident would get reported and you…you would have to get seriously punished.”
All the previous cheer seemed to have left the group.
Hermione stood up, pulling Ginny after her.
“I will see you tomorrow afternoon, I guess. But I think you will have to get used to the fact I too, have my own life now, trials and all.”
Looking at the other boys, she threw another firm “Good night” over her shoulder, as they disappeared upstairs.

The rest of the week flew by quickly. The gloomy November days were short and grey, fog obscuring any light that managed to enter the castle.
With each day that passed, Severus and Hermione descended into the comfortable rhythm of classes and their private time. Hermione would take up studying in his quarters as he worked through piles of homework, or kept him company while he brewed. Severus enjoyed having his solitude interrupted by her constant presence. Because when they worked, he no longer sat hunched over his work desk.
No.
When they worked through the piles of parchment, stacks of books and checklists, Hermione was laying down on the rug at his feet, while the fire in the hearth crackled. Severus sat in his usual armchair, feeling content despite the insipid task at hand. Sometimes, he would leave to fetch them tea and Hermione would come after him, slip her arms around his waist and bury her face between his shoulder blades, inhaling him.
As if being apart for more then a few minutes was an impossible feat.
He would turn around and kiss her breathless as the forgotten kettle whistled. He would lift her to sit on the small kitchen table, his hips wedged firmly between her legs, her shirt lifted to expose her glorious breasts.
Gods, how he enjoyed playing with them.
Not that his unabashed Gryffindor needed encouragement to pull his head down to her chest, her nails softly scraping over his scalp as he feasted. As they rid each other of excess clothes, his fingers digging into the flesh of her butt cheeks, his cock against her thigh, her belly. Sometimes, it was Severus, teasing and testing their limits. Sometimes, it was her. Shifting her hips so he slid against her dripping core instead of her lower abdomen. Sometimes, they came so close to agreeing to just let go and do it. Then they remembered, how they promised to go slow. And kept their promise to wait.
Severus would paint her skin with his come, spreading, always spreading it all over her with the calloused tips of his fingers. Hermione almost made him come again when she lifted his sticky hand to her mouth and sucked off what was left.
Every. Fucking. Time.
As if tasting Severus came second best to having him make her fall apart. Which he made sure he did. Thoroughly. Usually more then once.
Counting her orgasms became another obsession of his own. Wondering if he could make her squirt. If he could coax her body over another precipice.
Hermione never allowed him to clean her afterwards, saying she wanted to feel his seed dry on her skin when she inevitably returned to the tower. Who was Severus to argue?

They would actually drink tea afterwards and discuss a wide array of things Severus never imagined being able to discuss with anyone really. They agreed he’d actually tutor her for the NEWTs, should it become necessary. Use that guise as a forefront for their time together until then.
Using their unique mental connection to stay in touch with each other throughout the day, holding onto each others voices until they drifted to sleep, Severus and Hermione began counting off the days until they’d be married.

The only person skirting around their little happy bubble was Draco. Ever since the incident, he could no longer ignore Granger (soon to be Snape, as the ring on her finger was a clear sign of engagement).
Instead, she began nudging him in all sorts of ways.
She would nod in greeting, if they passed in the hall.
She partnered up with him at potions.
She even used Cerberus to owl him those bloody books they talked about.
The pile kept him up late at night and got him more than a little distracted from everything else that went on in his life.

Of course, Draco hid them furiously. But that did not mean Granger did not poke at him at Friday’s Potions class.
“Which one are you reading? It seems to have kept you up late.” She said innocently, before returning to chopping the ingredients.
“The one at the French seaside.” He murmured, half to himself. He was already in trouble, grumpy from the lack of sleep and horny as hell.
Those books were...something else.
“Oh, that’s a good one. All that murder mystery in a scenic surroundings. Solid, complex characters. I bet you already know who the murderer is.”
“Granger…” he ground out.
“Yes, I know who the murderer is. But you know that book is basically just porn with plot.”
Hermione smirked at that, looking up from her chopping board playfully.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to read anyway? I don’t remember you asking me for a book list on crime or fantasy novels, let alone the classics.”
Draco shrugged and went back to stirring.
“I wouldn’t mind those either. But I bet they won’t be as…educative, though.” He smirked, daring to jab her back.
“No wonder my Godfather looks so relaxed these days.”
Hermiones cheeks flushed bright red, but she kept her mouth shut. Draco had to bite back a laugh at her lack of response. Which was curious, since little could make him laugh these days.

People were becoming aware of their new and unusual comradery.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I believe the two of you made the best choice possible to pair up. Hear hear, class, this is what good work in tandem looks like. As you can see, both of them are playing to their strengths, balancing out the lack in each other, and therefore producing a high-quality product. Well done!” Slughorn fell quiet for a moment, looking at their potion. In his opinion, it came closest to the perfectly brewed concoction in Harry's cauldron.
“Ten points. Each.”
Hermione beamed at the blonde wizard.
“We do make a good team. And you do make a proper ‘idiot-repellent’.” Looking carefully to the back of the class, Hermione caught Mc Laggens eyes staring at her. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Luckily, the boy kept his distance.
“Yeah. You can put that on a t-shirt.” Draco quipped as they cleaned up.
“It’d make a good birthday present.”
Quietly, Draco sincerely hoped that was not the main reason why his wish to be friends with Granger was finally granted. He did not like the way McLaggen fixed his attention on her, and now he could at least keep close in case she needed protection.

He was thankful the books gave him plenty of new material for jerking off. He could not look Granger in the eyes today, if he still thought of her, like he used to. For years, to be honest.
Now - it would just be too weird.
It was weird, in fact, to hang out with the girl he fell for, knowing full well he’d never have her, and still be sort of happy. It was because of the bond, he thought. It was like a big bright sign, saying “She’s not the one for you”. Feeling calmer, now that he knew he would not dig his own grave trying to win her over, he could focus on himself. Draco felt like suddenly, he wanted to become a person Granger seemed to see in him.
Not for her, not anymore, but for himself. Fulfill the potential he never considered wielding.
And for that insight, he was grateful.

Potter and Weasley of course, did not take that new bud of a friendship lightly.

They were on their way to the Great Hall after Potions, when Granger asked him about the Arithmancy homework.
She was missing some literature and would head to the library after lunch. Still careful not to invite him directly, but Draco was well versed in reading subtext.
Before he got the chance to reply, he felt another body bump into him.
A warning.
Weasley and Potter stopped them, looking at Granger with angry eyes.
“What is this, Mione?” This time Weasley took the lead.
“First the Dungeon bat and now Malfoy?!” Before Draco could even think of a reply, Granger beside him took a threatening step forward, her fists already clenched.
“Grow up, Ronald. No one is beyond redemption. The only enemies you have in here are the ones you make yourself!”

Draco had never been defended like this before. His entire body went rigid with shock when Ganger took his hand and dragged him towards the library.
“Bloody morons made me loose my appetite.” She muttered under her breath. Draco's stomach was rumbling, but for some reason, he did not dare leave her alone now.
“You do seem to have a peculiar taste in friends, Granger. Present company included.” He stated sardonically.
“So we’re friends?” She said simply, letting go of his arm to pull at the library door.
“Seems like it.”
“I just don’t get it how they don’t see that this exact kind of thinking is what is causing the war to happen in the first place. Us versus them. If you’re not with us, you’re against us.” She rubbed a hand over her sternum.
Draco knew, that probably meant Severus was trying to calm her through the bond. He’d seen his mother do it to his father countless of times. And yet again, Draco sincerely wished he too would have a soulmate.
“If even someone like me managed to grow out of such thinking, there is still hope left for them.” Draco drawled with sarcasm, trying to lift her mood.
Granger held his eyes for a bit, as if she tried to search his very soul.
“I sincerely hope you are right.”

Chapter Text

On that bleak Saturday morning, the entire school seemed to crowd the quidditch stadium. The match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had just begun, but Hermione had already lost her interest in the game. She was certain that her house team had the upper hand with Harry, Ron and Ginny on the team. Not that she liked the sport. But when her friends played, the least she could do was to cheer them on.
Hermione sat on the bleachers, her red and gold scarf wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as the wind kept playing with her hair. The benches were too crowded to use some weather shields, so she resolved to squeezing in next to Luna and Neville, who both donned their Gryffindor mascots and cheered loudly. Not for the first time, Hermione found herself admiring Lunas ability to see over the fences of the four houses of Hogwarts and set an example of what could become a sort of unity. Wondered how the Wizarding world would look like if there was no schoolyard rivalry preventing them from sitting together on the benches, cheering not because they belonged to the House, but because they believed in the team.

It got her thinking, about how life would be like after she is done with school. Hermione had spent so many years supporting Harry's fight against Voldemort, any future beyond the defeat of the Dark lord seemed unimaginable. She always thought to herself she had plenty of time left to figure out what to do with her life.
Now, she suddenly lived in a completely different reality. She would soon have a husband, a home. A lot of new factors to take into equation. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her thumb over the disillusioned engagement ring on her finger.

As if feeling her thoughts across the pitch, Severus looked in her direction, waiting for Hermione to turn towards him. When she sent him a shy smile, one might think she was smiling to herself. Severus felt immense satisfaction that he, of all people, was the true recipient of her sun-like warmth.
“You always sit in the same spot.” Her voice prompted in his head.
This was the first time she initiated this sort of communication between them, obviously gaining some confidence in her own mind magic skills.
“It’s my favorite.” He replied simply.
“Why?” She inquired, feeling happy about being this close to him, even if they sat on the opposite sides of what was really just a large, deep pit.
“It offers me the best view. Just beautiful.”
“Mine’s better.” She retorted, feeling all soft and smug.
“But you’ve never been to this side of the pitch.” Severus stated, obviously confident in his argument.
“Oh, but I have.” She said playfully.
“Guess when.”

“How on Earth would I know? You’ve been to at least sixteen quidditch matches since you’ve entered Hogwarts, and I am only counting the ones Gryffindor played.”
“I’ll give you a hint. It was my first match. And I bet you still remember it. Vividly.”
Suddenly, the connection grew quiet. Hermione felt her nerves creep up her back, making her sit ups straight and fidget. Did he connect the dots? Was he - was he by any chance, angry with her? She fumbled for her binoculars, quickly adjusting them to see his face more closely.

Then, a boom of rumbling laugher sent her mind reeling so hard, Hermione almost dropped back in her seat.
“That. Was. You?!” He barely ground out in between fits of laughter.
How he managed to laugh through the bond, while his face remained stone-like was beyond Hermione’s comprehension. A warm flood of relief rushed through her entire being, pooling in the pit of her belly as she let out a long exhale.

“It’s safe to say my pyromaniac days are well behind me.” She quipped, since his laughter was finally settling. Looking at him through the binoculars, Hermione saw Severus look straight at her, the strands of his long, black hair swept back by the strong wind.

His face remained serious, but she could swear she saw the sparks of laughter dance in his those menacing black eyes.
“You are still the arsonist, Hermione.” He said, finally.
“Only this time, it is not my cloak you’ve set on fire.”

The match went on for almost two hours and even Severus was getting restless. He was no longer interested in the dynamic of the play, but in shuffling the work he had yet to finish with multiple ways he and Hermione could sneak out of the castle. He meant it when he said they’d at least try to spend most weekends at their cottage.

Severus wanted Hermione to put small touches of her presence to the house, making it feel like it truly belonged to them.
He wanted to send Posy away for the evening, and cook with his witch.
Get her naked and touch every inch of that soft feminine body.
He wondered how many weekends they had before the storm clouds of war rolled in. Could he really manage to stall Voldemort’s plans until the summer?
Dumbledore was becoming fragile and Draco still had so much to learn.

This week surprisingly went by without any new demands from the Dark Lord. Severus did his best to keep him pleased, to keep him in place with the threads of the lies and deceptions he had woven around Voldemort like a spider. There were so many already and Severus was nothing if not meticulous to make sure none of the leads would ever point in his direction.
But acting like a puppet while trying his best to be the puppeteer was exhausting.

Years of practice did not prepare him for the amount of willpower this feat of espionage would cost him. He cursed Voldemort and Dumbledore and bloody Potter and simply wished…
…to close his eyes…
…open them again into the world where he could sweep his beloved off her dainty feet and carry her into the sunset.
Live his days with her happily ever after.

Trying to settle him, her warmth poured through.
“It will be over soon.” Hermione said brightly, not really knowing how her words soothed him. The witch, of course, spoke of the match. Potter was doing his best to catch the golden snitch, pulling off one crazy flying stunt after another, his Firebolt glistening through the air like a shooting star.

Then, the boy came to a sudden stop. Holding out his outstretched hand, the Potter’s face radiated pure victory. The deathly quiet stadium roared with mixed emotions of joy and disappointment.
Ah, to be so foolishly immersed in an outcome of a game, Severus thought, while others thought of war.

“Meet me behind the broom storage facility.” He said to Hermione, his voice loud and clear in her head while her surroundings echoed with chaotic cacophony.
“We might be able to slip away unnoticed. Let’s go home.”

Home.
That word sent Hermione rushing to the bottom of the stairs that led up the bleachers. As she was nearing their meeting point, the Gryffindor team crossed her path. Ron, Harry and Ginny came towards her, big smiles on their faces. Feeling high from their victory, boys have obviously forgotten their argument not a day before.  
“Mione! We won!” They chanted. “Gryffindor, Gryffindor, we will make you proud once more!”
Hermione laughed at their off-key voices, as she caught Severus’s black clad silhouette slip behind the nearest broom closet. Suddenly, he was completely out of her sight despite his tall and imposing frame. He must have disillusioned himself, Hermione thought.

She hugged her the three cheerful Gryffindors and made excuses, not feeling like partying with them in the slightest. Luckily, the wish to move on to celebrating their success called for low inhibitions and they let her be without much fuss. After all, they’d known her for years and Hermione was never one to join the party.

Hermione’s chest was bursting from the excitement. Her heart loud in her ears, her entire being just longing to go home with him.
When she reached the point where she saw Severus disappear, something in her chest changed. Instead of anticipation, there was suddenly dread. An echoe of a sharp, angry pain seared through her left forearm. Her eyes wide, she realised it was not her hand that burned. It was simply a mirage of the pain Severus must have felt from being summoned.
Severus yanked her closer, her body slipping seamlessly through the little invisible bubble of his wards.
“Oh Merlin, you scared me!” Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She held him so close she never wanted to let go.
“I’m sorry, love. But there is no other option - I have to leave. Quickly.” He kissed her, his mouth hard and desperate.
“Get out of the castle grounds. Call for Posy. She can get you to the cottage.” He bit out the commands, as the burning sensation grew stronger.
Did it feel worse every minute until he answered, Hermione wondered.
“When I am done, I will come to you.” Severus’s voice grew painfully breathless.
“I need to get Draco.”

“Stay safe.” Hermione said, kissing him quickly with all the longing in her heart.
“I love you, Severus Snape. So, you better stay safe and come home to me, you hear?”
She could not hold back the trembling in her voice, but her spine was already turning to steel. Hermione decided right then and there she would not be a weeping damsel. She would not be helpless.
Not when she could be his rock.
His anchor.
“I will. I will come home to you, my love.” Severus said on a whisper, before kissing her lips one last time.
Then, he was gone.

Hermione walked to the whomping willow, thinking about the secret passage to Hogsmead. Under the large tree, her familiar sat with his unwavering yellow gaze fixed on her approaching figure.
“Is this your way of saying, this time, you too are coming with me?” She asked, bending down to rub his furry head.
The cat just blinked at her, purring loudly.
“Alright then, we better get going. The walk ahead of us long and gloomy.”
Her wand out, the tip burning brightly, Hermione walked through the secret passage, her Crookshanks in tow. The cobwebs were thick and the wind howled with eerily sounds every now and then, sending shivers down her spine. At last, she reached the Shrieking Shack, and called out for Posy.

The little elf came into the room with a crack so loud, Crookshanks scattered to the corner of the room hissing.
“How can I help you, Mistress?” Posy said, her big bulbous eyes taking in the sight of Hermione’s rumpled appearance.
“Severus said you could take me and my cat home. Would you be so kind, please? I need to wait for him, there.” The urgency in Hermione’s voice stopped Posy from telling her off for saying please. She was a Mistress, not a beggar.
“Right away, right away.” The elf chimed, taking the witches hand.
Hermione held her cat close to her chest, as she felt them spin through time and space. With another snapping sound, her surroundings settled. Hermione opened her eyes, relief washing over her at the familiar sight of the cottage.
She was home.

Severus and Draco walked the white gravel path towards the entrance of the Malfoy manor. With the black rain clouds gathering over its magnificent roof, the gleaming splendor of Malfoy’s ancestral home radiated with more malice every day since the Dark lord took it for his residence.
They were horribly late due to the madness of the quidditch crowd that held them back from reaching a safe point outside Hogwarts to disapparate. Both men hid their matching scowls under their Death Eater masks.
This was not good. Not good at all.

Even before they entered the great drawing room, they could hear the squeals of the tortured and manic laughter of their molester. Voldemort.

Severus already slid into his dark alter ego, hoping Draco managed to come even slightly closer to mastering the exercise himself. It was one of the first lessons he gave his Godson in Occlumency, after the boy joined the Death Eater’s ranks to replace his father.
The massive black door flew wide open and the sight in front of them would make any weaker man collapse in shock.
But not Severus.
Ever since he joined Death Eaters all those years ago, he had seen it all. There were bodies of what appeared to be a couple of elderly people – probably some poor muggleborn workers of the Ministry - lying on the ornate hardwood floor. One twitching with aftershocks, the other crying. Stripped down for the sake of feeling even more dehumanised.
Vulnerable.
They looked helpless.
They were helpless.

Without any further ado, Voldemort pointed his wand towards them.
“Avada Kedavra!” He sang with his slippery voice so enthusiastically, as some children would call for ice-cream.

Keeping his expression numb, Severus bowed deeply, trusting Draco to follow his lead. They waited, as the pale wizard turned towards them.
“Sssseverusss, at lasst.” Voldemort hissed from the black throne across the room.
He was alone, but for the two dead bodies now laying on the floor. His black robe was spotless, while everything else in the room seemed to be stained with blood.

“What is your excuse for keeping me waiting?” The Dark Lord teased. The question sounded mild and un-accusatory, but the two spies knew better than to take that bate.
“There is no excuse. We apologise deeply, my Lord.” Severus voice dripped with reverence, as he kept his head down.
But since he did not feel Voldemort prod around his mind, his attention turned slightly to Draco. It must be he decided to check the boy’s mind first.

The dark lord’s lips pressed together, as he flipped through the memories in Draco’s head. There was a crippling silence filling the room now, thick as syrup.
Severus entered the boy’s mind gently, skirting around the images Voldemort chose to observe. He would remain at the edge, just in case Draco needed him to intervene.

There was a memory of the mass of students exiting quidditch pitch, slowing them down. Then, there was the memory of Draco tailing Dumbledore, listening in to conversations. Draco, overhearing Potter talk about meeting Dumbledore in the evening. Draco, following Potter to the Room of requirement. Draco taunting Potter into an attack and hexing him, scorching his right shoulder.
If Severus did not know what truly happened in the Room of requirement, the sequence of memories and the slight altercations would pass by him effortlessly. Voldemort was obviously pleased with what he had seen, and began to retreat out of the memories, when an image of Hermione caught his eye. She was standing next to Draco in the potions classroom, brewing. Then in the hallway, speaking angrily to Potter and Weasley. Severus almost jumped in, but since he had not expected those memories, he did not anticipate the probable need to alter them. A few moments of nervous silence passed by.

Voldemort laughed manically.
“Draco, Draco, Draco…” he drawled, pausing dramatically.
“You have been busy, I see.” Locking his bright red eyes with Draco’s silver ones, he hissed.
 “You don’t mind getting your hands a little muddy for the sake of driving a wedge between Potter and his filthy mudblood friend, do you now? Very sly, my boy. Very Slytherin of you. However …”
Severus felt this was too good to be true. They will not get off so easily. They never did. Holding back his nerves, his body as numb as stone, he felt the clash of Voldemort mind against his own.

Severus let the Dark Lord enter his mind, allowing him to see how fragile Dumbledore is, his health issues caused by Potions master’s little poisons. How Dumbledore is foolishly taking them as nutrition. How he is foolishly holding on to Potter. A despicable childish Potter, who seemed to act more petulantly in each of his memories. He altered a memory of the argument at the portrait of the Fat Lady into catching Potter sneaking out to go see Dumbledore and to how Snape had prevented it from happening.

It felt like holding your breath underwater, while playing chess. A fast game of vicious tactics.

At last, it was over. Severus felt like he’d run a thousand miles, when the sensation of Voldemort’s presence in his mind finally ended.

Usually, Severus would try to persuade Voldemort to view his memories in the floating pensive spell he devised himself for that sole purpose. He would, of course trick Voldemort into thinking he controlled the memories inside the floating blue circle, then play out the memories as if the Dark Lord was watching a tainted television show.

But today was not the day. Today, he could not scheme or manipulate any more than he already did. Voldemort may have not yet shown his anger over their tardiness, but it was certainly not so easily forgotten.

Like a cat playing with a mouse before it slaughtered it, Voldemort licked his pale lips, counting on his fingers while he summarised new information with a voice that was chillingly sing-song.
“Severus is poisoning our beloved headmaster while he is preventing him to see Harry. Draco is gathering information and trying to isolate Harry from his best friends. From the girl who always steps in to save the day. How awfully brilliant. Both of you.” There was another pause of deathly quiet.

Voldemorts voice grew icily cold when he spoke next.
“But you both left me waiting. And for what? A quidditch game?”
The last words came out on a roar.
“Cruccio!”

A red trickle of magic hit Severus straight in the chest, his body contorting with agony. The pain scorched through his limbs, as he tried his best not to scream, not to flinch. If it were not for the tremors that shook his body, no one would know that the spell took hold.
Draco did not dare to look, keeping his eyes trained to the ornate Grandfather’s clock on the back wall, emotionless.
It lasted roughly ten minutes, before blood started to trickle out of Severus’s crooked nose. When it was close to fifteen minutes, Voldemort angled his head playfully.
“It is so wonderful to see you take the pain like this, Severus. No useless flailing or crying. I wish we had more audience to see how proper wizards take the pain. Now tell me, since Draco here can not apparate on his own, whose fault is it that he was late today?”

Draco knew better than to speak, but dreaded the consequences of staying silent just as much. The spell still held, as Voldemort observed Severus’s trembling lips pry open, stuttering his barely audible retort through the clenched teeth.
“M-min-mine. M-ma-mas-ter.”

But as he spoke, the spell broke.

“Right you are, Severus.”
Voldemort flicked his wand, recasting the spell for the second time.
“And that is why, you will suffer double consequences. You already served your part, now you will take on Draco’s share as well. Or should I torture the boy instead?”
His voice remained cold, but the playful expression was back in the red snakelike eyes.
Knowing full well not showing any preference was the safest way to keeping the Dark Lord focused on himself, Severus did his best not to feel anything except the pain.

Being tortured this way or that for his entire life, he knew how to manage pain. How to empty his thoughts and restrain himself, breathing small, almost unnoticeable breaths to keep his heart rate in control while his nerve endings sizzled as if on fire.

Before the thirty minutes were completed, Voldemort obviously grew bored. Excepting that this time, as every time before, he would not get a reaction out of his most respected lieutenant.
He ended the spell, his black wand slipping through his bony fingers like a silk scarf and disappearing into the slip in his robe.
“Well gentleman, I do believe our business here is concluded. I trust that at the next opportunity you both will make sure to arrive promptly. Now, if you will see yourselves out.” Voldemort concluded their meeting with polite cheerfulness, as if they were merely gentlemen discussing weather over some afternoon tea.

Severus did his best to walk out of the room with some dignity, while his entire body was on the verge of collapsing. In the shadows by the grand staircase hid Narcissa. Draco looked his mother in the eyes, silently begging her not to approach them. She just nodded, stiffly. Her silky posh voice was barely above a whisper.

“Thank you, Severus. Thank you.”
Severus simply looked at her, his nose and lips bloody. Then, he allowed Draco to hook his arms under him, helping him walk out to the apparition point. It took all the power the dark wizard had left in his body, to call out to the place he now considered his home.

Hermione was slowly descending into anxiety. She paced the living room about three hundred times already. Posy took care of the tea and dinner, so she really did not have much to busy herself with. All her belongings from what she packed last week at her childhood home were neatly tucked away in the privacy of the Master’s bedroom, with an exception of a few framed pictures, and a selection of her beloved novels. Those were mixed in with Severus’s books in the library, a picture of her with Crooks on a mantel.

Hermione had an idea to lay out the basic healing equipment in the living room should she need it when her future husband returned.

Then she walked to the great window in the living room, looking out at the cliffs. It was almost two hours since Severus left. Outside was bright with the orange licks of a slowly setting sun, completely different to the cloudy skies above Hogwarts.
How long should she wait before alerting someone else, she wondered. She closed her eyes, focusing on the bond between them. It was like the window between them was closed. Not merely closed, but facing a brick wall.

No, she will not panic, Hermione told herself over and over. She will trust his judgement. If Severus told her to wait for him at their cottage, then that’s what she will do.
The bricks on the window? Probably some mental exercise to keep them safe. Hidden.
Not for the first time, she wondered, if his mind looked like a big house.

Then she heard the approaching footsteps outside the cottage and rushed to the door like a sprinter hearing the starting gun. Hermione yanked them open just when Draco approached, barely holding up her beloved.

If she did not know better, Hermione would think Severus had gotten into a drunken brawl. But she saw the tell-tale tremors. She saw his bloodied nose bore no marks of a fist fight.
No. This was a man who had just undergone a few rounds of the cruciatus curse.

“Get him in, quickly!” She moved away, waving Draco in.
“Help him lay down on the sofa, there by the fire.” Her voice was stern and unwavering. She took one glance at Draco.
“Are you hurt as well?”
“N-no. He took the second round in my place.” Draco said quietly, not needing to explain himself further. It was obvious Granger knew what was going on, and judging from her arsenal of healing supplies on the coffee table, she was prepared to deal with it without batting an eye.
“Posy, please make sure our guest is well tended to.” She called out, her voice cracking just a little.
“I am sorry Malfoy, but I need to heal Severus first. The dining room is through the door on your left.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, not feeling like he could down a bite while Granger took care of the crumpled heap of a man that was his Godfather.
“If you don’t feel like eating take some tea and come back here. Or walk around the house. I don’t care.” Her voice reverberated through the silent room.
“But I cannot deal with you until I take care of Severus.”

The living room fell silent but for the muffled sounds of Hermione’s footsteps, as she circled the sofa. With a flick of her wand, the fire in the hearth grew bigger, and she moved the furniture so that Severus could lie as close to it as possible. She knew warming charms would have to wait until she was able to stabilise his state.

Calling out the memories of all the useful information she read up on healing the trauma left behind by a cruciatus curse, Hermione took a few grounding breaths, desperately trying to convince herself she knew what to do.
The runes of a diagnostic spell floated somewhere above his body, as she divested him of his cloak, his frock and his shirt. There was an angry red mark on his chest, where the curse hit him. Hermione did her best no to think too much of what he had to go through, silently singing Stairway to heaven, just to keep herself steady. She opened the first jar of healing salve, massaging it gently onto his chest.

She dreaded the moment she’d have to wake him from his unconscious state, but she simply could not risk Severus choking on his potions. Draco stood leaning into the white door frame, a teacup in his hand.

“You’ll have to help me restrain him.” She said, frowning.
“Why not do it with a spell?” Draco asked, obviously confused.

“There was an article…” Hermione bit down on her lip.
“It said any use of spells that affected the nervous system on this extent of trauma would only lead to more misinformation forming in the brain, which later causes unstable responses to healing.”
“Alright.” Draco approached the sofa in a few strides, divesting himself of everything but his shirt. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing the dark mark. There was a trace of disgust in his expression, like simply being aware of the mark on his body is causing his stomach to revolt.

Draco took Severus by his forearms, a knee over his legs. But when Hermione managed to wake Severus, he moved away, gently. Unlike most of people who lost consciousness after torture, the raven haired wizard did not come back to the present, kicking and screaming. When his black, long lidded eyes fluttered open, it was a deep, tearing gasp. Tremors shook his body, but he did not cry. He did not scream. He did not flail.

No, Severus squinted as he lifted his shaking hand to Hermione’s face, stroking her cheek once before he had to let it drop back down.

“Don’t worry, my love. You’re home. Now open up.” Hermione held the first flask of nerve healing potion to his lips.
Then, the pain potion.
The calming draught.
Casting a tempus to wake her when it was time for the next dosage, she began massaging the burn salve mixed with the essence of dittany into his upper body with gentle, circular motions.

Draco felt as if he watched something intimate he was not supposed to see, but could not avert his eyes. The only reason he himself was not in need to receive such treatment was because this man protected him at the cost of his own health.

Severus seemed to regain some autonomy over his body, as he tried to sit up, looking at Hermione with glazed, starry eyes.
“He-Hermione, my love. My lovely future bride.” His deep voice suddenly sounded a bit melodic.
Draco lifted his eyebrows at Hermione, but she just smirked.
“It’s the effect of the potions combined with warmth. They relax the system but they can cause a drunken-like state. His inhibitions might be a little low.” She paused, thinking.
“But that’s actually the proof he is making progress.”

Severus tried to brush some hair out of her face, a wide and flirty smile on his face, but almost poked her in the eye, his hand trailing a path down her cheek, down her neck, his gaze overtly stopping at her cleavage. Hermione blushed fiercely at the enthusiastic expression that filled Severus’s face. The man looked like he had just discovered a mountain of gold.

“Your beauty inspires me, my lovely witch.” He managed to declare hotly, still talking to her bosom instead of her face.

“What you do still betters what is done.
When you speak, sweet.
I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing,
I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms, pray so;
and, for the ordering your affairs,
to sing them too: when you do dance,
I wish you a wave o' the sea,
that you might ever do nothing but that;
move still, still so,
and own no other function:
each your doing, so singular in each particular,
crowns what you are doing in the present deed,
that all your acts are queens.”

A violent cough made him spit blood on Hermione’s shirt, but he still looked starry eyed, when he fell back onto the soft velvet cushions. Retorting to his professorial role, he stared at Draco now, instead of the blushing witch at his side.

“That’s Shakespeare, in case you are wondering. The Winter’s tale.” His eyes drifted close, as he mumbled on.

“Where her name comes from. Hermione. Hermione of Winter’s tale. My sweet Hermione…” His last words were barely audible, before his heavy head tumbled into her lap. A loud snore informed the two left awake of his deep and peaceful slumber.

“I need to move him upstairs.” Hermione said to herself.
Feeling safe to cast a spell on him now that he seemed stable, she called out a levicorpus and left to settle him upstairs.
The black fourposter creaked under the weight of the big mountain of a man that was Severus Snape. Flickering candlelight sent shadows dancing over his complicated face. Hermione tucked him into the soft blankets, casting another warming spell over him. She pressed feather-light kisses over his black brow, her thumb smoothing out the creases on his forehead.
“You’ll be alright now. You’re safe here.” She took one last glance at his sleeping figure, before she left to tend to their guest downstairs.

Hermione found Draco standing at the window, his face empty and distant.
“You better come and eat with me. I bet you haven’t had a bite of food since morning.” She said, suddenly feeling too tired to bother with decorum.

Draco came trailing after her. The way he walked, the way he remained silent and miserable reminded her of a sulking puppy. Well, not that Draco was anywhere near being small or cute, but that was the general impression.

“You are not to blame for whatever went on today, Draco.” Hermione said, trying her best to come through to him.

Hearing his name fall from her mouth so casually made his defences crack. He spent so many years wishing to hear her call him Draco, instead of spitting his last name through her clenched teeth. Bitter involuntary laughter rolled though him. Suddenly, his chest and his cheeks hurt but he could not stop. Instead of a cry, a desperate laughter rolled out of his chest. Draco tried to stop, clamping a hand over his mouth, not knowing what came over him.

Through the clenched teeth, he could only grunt out a simple sorry, before another wave of laughter tore his chest. It was painful and bitter and torturous. He could barely breathe until in some moment, Draco felt something furry jump onto his lap.

Hermione’s familiar settled himself on his lap, purring loudly. Another den broke inside Draco, and his fits of laughter became sobs, tears silently rolling down his cheeks.

He could feel Hermione’s soft eyes on him, but could look at her. Not yet. It was simply not fair, that this brilliant girl was truly offering him truce, taking him under her roof and trying her best to make him feel better after all the hurt he had caused her.
After her future husband suffered torture in his place.

“I better leave.” Was all he could manage, feeling like his own skin was too tight all of a sudden.
“You can’t. You need to stay with us until we return to the castle tomorrow. It’s safer that way.” Hermione retorted, feeling like she needed to put her foot down on the subject.
“I will let Posy prepare you a guest bedroom.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
“How can you stand me?” Draco said suddenly, his temper rising.
“I’ve never been anything but cruel to you. Even now, your lover, your soulmate is upstairs, recovering from fucking cruciatus, all because he protected me.” Chest heaving, he spat out the last words as if they were poison.

“You also helped me, more than once, I suspect. Severus told me, how you manipulated him out of dragging his feet.” Hermione spoke cooly, her eyes on fire. “Even today - you made sure he got home to me, safely. Practically carried him. I bet there is not a thing you did wrong today. Or could do differently.” Breathless, she paused.
“Stop being a martyr. We’re all victims in this war.”

“I love you.” Words came rushing out of Draco’s mouth, before he could do anything to stop himself.

Hermione stood beside the table, her eyes wide. A week ago, Severus told her Draco harboured feelings towards her. But back at Hogwarts, when they were at classes, she felt like being back with the boys. She did not feel like he was anything more than maybe her friend. A person that might become her found family.
And now this?!

“I should not have said that.” Draco said, running a hand over his face. “I know you don’t feel the same about me. But you’re my friend now, odd as that is. I can’t go on not saying it.”
“Do you feel like you’re wrong for feeling love then?” Hermione said quietly, trying to provoke him.
“Do you think so lowly of yourself you think even the unrequited love is beyond you?”
Her words hit hard, because they were true. But her whiskey eyes remained soft. Emphatic.
“I cannot imagine how you feel, Draco. But I do know this - despite the feelings you claim to have for me, you respect the bond I share with Severus. Every time I turn to see we missed a corner somewhere, I see you there, covering for us. Helping us.”
She pushed her empty plate away with some clatter.

“I believe even if Severus doesn’t show it, you are probably one of the very few people he lets in. Being his Godson, you and I are practically his only family.”

Obviously acquiring Severus’s touch for dramatic, Hermione made a long pause. Deep breaths.
“That is the real reason he took the curse for you today, if you ask me. So don’t blemish his sacrifice with self depreciation. It won’t serve anyone any good.”

Hermione rose and went to wrap herself in the cloak, needing to go outside and breathe through the anxiety that began to wash over her, now that the crisis seemed to have passed.
“I am going out for a while. You can come or you can stay.”

Draco decided to go with her. It was pitch black outside, despite it still being only seven in the evening. He found it odd, to see Hermione do something as mundane as lacing up her boots.
When she was about to walk through the door, Draco spoke. “Wait.”
He took her Gryffindor scarf of the wall.
“You will need this. It’s freezing out here.”

She took it with a muttered thank you, leading the way. They both shoved their hands into their pockets as they walked across the garden, to the end of the white wooden fence. There, they could see the ocean lick at the cliffs below them, even with the moon being their only source of light.

“Where the Hell are we, anyway?” Draco asked after a while.
Hermione was silent for so long, he did not believe she would actually answer him. “North western coast of Scotland. Just below Cape Wrath.”
“No wonder it’s so cold here. We’d go any further North we’d be Vikings.”
That made her chuckle.
Draco felt his cold lips twist in a half smile.
“You do realise you own a wand?” She teased him.
“The warming spell might prove challenging for a first year, not the big bad Slytherin.”
“I am a big bad Slytherin?”
“Or you could be the Big blond Ferret?” Hermione did look at him now, the contours of her mischievous face barely visible in the dark.
“Oh no, wait! I got it! The big posh ponce!” She exclaimed.
That made him gruff out a laugh. And here he was, thinking it would take him weeks to even smile again, after what went on earlier.
“You seem to like the word ‘big’, Hermione. Pray tell, why is that?” His voice was pure innocence now, but his silver eyes just as playful as hers.
“Ask Severus.” Hermione shut him down simply, winking.

She walked back into the house without a backwards glance. Once they were back in the house, Hermione turned to face him.
“If you need anything before the morning, just call for Posy. Your room is the second door to the left. I shall see you at breakfast.”

Hermione was just about to climb the stairs, as she turned back to him, like she almost forgot something. Her cascading hair flew around her face as she spun on the spot.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but since I’ve already declared you family - I hug. A lot. Get over it.”
And she draped her arms around his waist. Her curls tickled his chin, and her nose was poking uncomfortably at his collar bone. But Draco felt his body relax, as she comforted him with her presence. With her unwavering stubborn belief there was good in him. It was not sexual attraction he felt in that moment, no. It was a bone-deep sense of familiarity.
Satisfied with the outcome of her impulsive deed, Hermione untangled herself from his arms and went upstairs without uttering another word.
“Enough now, just enough.” Draco told himself, rubbing a palm over the ache in his chest, the air around him smelling of rosemary and sea water.
So, this is how it felt to have a family, he thought, walking to what he presumed was the library.

Hermione took one of Severus’s black t-shirts to match her pair of comfortable washed-out leggings and prepared for bed. Her beloved patient seemed to be doing well, sleeping off the aftermath of the healing process. Knowing everything was seemingly settled for the day, she pulled on her fuzzy wool socks and climbed into bed next to Severus.

She turned him gently, so he was laying on his back, and curled over his strong body, one leg tangled between his, one arm circling around his torso. Resting her head against his chest, Hermione finally felt the anxiety in her chest settle. He was safe. They’d be alright. She’d make sure of it.
She fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Late at night, when it was time for Severus to retake his potions, Hermione found him already awake, staring into nothing. His strong arms were now wrapped around her body, fingers of his left hand trailing little paths up and down her spine.
“How are you feeling?”
“Glad.” He replied softly.
“Thats not what I asked.” Hermione chided, knowing full well that his manner of speaking alone was the definite sign of his progress.
“The chest pain is gone. My head no longer hurts and my sight is clear. The only thing still pestering me every now and then are the tremors. Hands mostly, since he intentionally hit me in the chest. He knows now, I won’t be able to brew properly for a week. The bastard. I bet it won’t be two days before he sends word for more poisons.”
“Hush, don’t think of him now, love.” Hermione cooed, raising up on her elbows to kiss his lips.
“No…sorry, I will not bring him in here. This is our space. Our sanctuary.”
Severus kissed her back, his plush lips trembling a little.
“There will be plenty of time to talk in the morning. Now, be a good man and take your potions.”
She sat up, summoning the flasks with her wand. Severus drank all but the Calming draught.
“I don’t need it” he stated firmly.
“I have you beside me. Your presence alone is enough to bring me peace.” His arms still shook a little, but he managed to pull her back down and on top of him.
Hermione felt like she was suddenly draped all over his long torso, wrapped in his limbs. It made her chuckle.
“Are you saying I am your cosy blanket?”

“Yes, you are. Now go back to sleep, witch. You too, had a long day.” He kissed the top of her curls, breathing her in.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Chapter Text

Still warm and safely tucked under the duvet, Severus took in the sight of the young woman sleeping by his side. He could spend his lifetime counting freckles that dusted her bright skin. Despite the light tremors he felt steady enough to summon his next dose of potions before giving in to his urge to spend another minute or twenty-five curled up next to her. It still surprised him, how despite their relationship being a completely new and uncharted territory, he already felt so used to her presence, so normal when he slipped a hand around her warm waist. When he smelled the faint notes of her jasmine and rosewater perfume mixing with the spicy notes of his soap.
His own ray of sunshine.

A proud smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he thought of the way she handled yesterday’s troubles. Hermione was not one to cower under pressure, hide away from a difficult situation.
His palms roamed up her body to palm her breasts and she arched into his touch, still deeply asleep. Severus didn’t do it to initiate another one of their carnal explorations, but simply because it felt so intimate, to have her so close, so vulnerable, so trusting. He could feel her steady heartbeat under the fingertips.
Kissing her temple, Severus resolved to get up and stretch. Each movement was a pain of its own. It was for the first time in many years he felt genuinely incensed to have his body so brutally abused for the sake of keeping this wretched position. Sincerely surprised by the way Hermione’s approach to healing him resulted in better nerve functions then he had ever previously experienced the day after, Severus left to take a shower and hoped to find a way to show her just how much of a difference she had already made in his lonely life.

“With all the sincerity, I fail to see the proper cause for your actions, Sir.” Draco said sardonically.

“I do however need to ask you to remove yourself from my immediate proximity, or else…” He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of frustration.
“Or else neither of us is getting any food in the foreseeable future. Starving to death is quite ungentlemanly, especially while being a guest. So, if you please.” Draco was truly at his wit’s end. He had spent the previous fifteen minutes trying to get the orange furry beast off of his chest, but the stubborn little bastard simply would not budge.
In fact, the little chit didn’t as much as move ever since the blonde wizard opened his eyes, a silent scream tearing through his throat as he woke from another one of his bizarre nightmares. This time, he was a little ferret, trying his best to stay alive in a maze, where every other creature was out to get him. They were all there - Nagini, Fawkes, Buckbeak, Hedwig… even Crookshanks.

Of course, he barely held in another scream when he woke only to realize he could not move. No, not only the weight of the beast held him pinned to the bed, its claws stretched out in warning. The yellow eyes bore straight into his pale ones, like fire into the ice. And like his mistress, the cat was not blinking while it held the staring contest.

At first, he would only nudge or push or whatever. But when minutes passed without any visible progress, Draco realized he might have had to talk to the cat, good manners and all. Now, he was only sure that the kaneazle did not mind him talking, but it obviously had an agenda.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone?!” He hissed through his clenched teeth.
Meow.
Draco’s eyebrows flew up. His nostrils flared. His heartbeat spiked.
“I can’t do this!” He panted.
“You need to let me go!”
Frustration seemed to echo from the empty walls in the room. The blond wizard suddenly felt so alone, and so helpless, he did not know when he reached for the cat, stroking its fluffy fur with his long, pale hands.
A tear slid down his cheek, then another. The more he shook with sobs, the more the cat purred on his chest, as if the gentle vibrations could heal the mess inside him.
“Is this what you wanted?” He asked after a while.
“You wanted me to lose it? Why?”
He stared at Crooks now, feeling shaken, fragile.
And though he wanted to deny it - oddly grateful. Suddenly not seeing any harm in cuddling the fluffy beast for another moment or so, Draco curled up with Crooks, just enjoying the feeling of his body and mind becoming lighter.
It had been months since he last felt this relaxed, maybe even years. Is this why people had pets, he wondered.
“You’re just as stubborn and just as smart as your Mistress, aren’t you Crooks?” He said with no small amount of affection, finally getting up.
His black shirt, cashmere sweater and fine wool trousers waited for him on a wooden chair, clean and neatly folded. A smirk crept its way upon his face when he thought of the cheerful little elf who took care of them for him. The elves at the manor were loyal and well behaved, but never this enthusiastic.
As Draco descended the stairs to see what the day will bring, he narrowly avoided ramming into Severus.
“Good morning, Draco.” The dark wizard greeted him quietly.
“We better go downstairs, so we can talk.”
“What about...Hermione?”
Draco still felt a bit odd, calling her by her first name. He figured he would have to get used to it. Calling her Snape after she marries would be simply too confusing.
“I figured I should let her sleep for a while. She did her best to care for me through the night.” Severus said, sitting down at his usual spot at the head of the dining table.

This week, the tablecloth was sage green. That made Severus smile, since it only took one look at the house to see that Posy was already matching the decorations according to what she deemed to be Hermione’s taste in these things.
Little elf came hopping in, the trays of food and a pot of steaming hot tea floating above her head.
“Good morning, Master. Posy is very glad to see the Master and his Apprentice looking better. Now…” She chimed happily, “Breakfast for the brave gentlemen!”
“Thank you, Posy. We shall take our leave after lunch, just so you know.” Severus nodded, obviously fond of her.
Draco did his best not to stare at the trembling hands of his Godfather, as he plated some food for himself. Instead, he relieved the man and poured the tea into both teacups, doctoring it with milk and sugar.
“Not you nor me had any real control over Voldemort’s decision on how or how long to torture us, Draco.” Severus said without any preamble.
“Thinking either of us could do something differently is an illusion. If you still have it, let it go. Thinking like that can drive you mad, especially when dealing in espionage. Instead, focus on what you can control.”
“You mean...like you do? With Occlumency, and memory alteration and well, simply becoming expressionless?” Draco replied.
“How do you manage to control your general expressions so much?” The question was one of honest curiosity.
“He tortured you and you stood still like a stone wall.”
A melancholic expression came over his Godfathers face, but was gone so fast it seemed like it was only an illusion.
“Decades of endurance, would be the most honest answer. There was a man who tortured me long before Voldemort came to his current position.” Severus said seriously, gritting his teeth.
“My father was a drunken bastard who enjoyed his drink strong, his wife submissive and his son as a punching bag for his every whim.”
Severus leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his black hair.
“Don’t think there is any heroics in the way I am, Draco. It’s just years and years of building my defense mechanisms.”

“It doesn’t make you any less brave, my love.” Hermione walked in, wearing a pair of black leggings, fuzzy socks and what appeared to be Severus’s old T-shirt under a cardigan. She bent down to press a soft kiss on his pale cheek, smiling sweetly.
“How are you feeling?”
“I am doing better than I usually do afterwards, thanks to my lovely witch.” Severus replied, his voice full of affection. He caught her hand as she went to take the empty seat on his right, and kissed her knuckles.
Hermione blushed and Draco cleared his throat, obviously not sure how to respond to see the couple behave so lovingly.
“You should see her bossy side kick in, when I brought you back unconscious. General Granger.” Draco tried to shift back into conversation, shaking his head.
“Speaking of yesterday, I do believe I am owed a full story.” Hermione looked at them sternly, not even knowing how she arched one eyebrow imperiously. Draco could not hold in a chuckle after seeing her expression.
“Gods, now there will be two of you. Matching scowls and all.”

While the three at the Cliffside cottage talked and planned, Harry paced around Dumbledore’s office. He was not making any measurable progress with Slughorn, and the frustrating fear of failure had settled in his bones. But what troubled him even more, was Hermione’s behavior. Well, not behavior exactly, but the way those two snakes began to slither around his friend.
First Snape. Now Malfoy.
He simply had to tell Dumbledore…he’d know what to do.

“Harry, it is of great importance you get that memory from Slughorn, untainted.” Dumbledore was serious, a sense of urgency in his voice.
“Why can’t you get it? You are the greatest Legillimens alive!”
Harry’s statement was both a praise and a plea merged into one.
“I am glad you think so highly of me Harry, but there are far more skilled Legillimens than myself.”
“Alright, who is it? I bet they would help if I wrote them a letter, or…” Dumbledore merely raised his hand to stop Harry in his tracks.
“Asking Severus to do it would be difficult and dangerous.” Was the cutoff reply.
 Harry stared the headmaster. The old wizard stood by one of the windows, his eyes lost somewhere in the distance, his ornate velvet robes a vivid swirl of purple, crimson and maroon.
“Surely, you do not mean to say Snape is a better Legillimens than you, Professor.”
“I must say Harry I am somewhat disappointed in your lack of faith in Professor Snape. He did, after all, save your life on multiple occasions.”
Harry stared at the old wizard, dumbfounded.
“Or perhaps you do not trust my staff choices...well, to be frank I cannot blame you.”
“But he is vile and cruel...” Harry finally found it in him to form a response, curling his fists.
“How can I believe he is on our side, when he acts so much more like a Death Eater.”
“Now, now, Harry, Severus would not make much of a spy if he strolled around the castle like a happy hippogriff”
Dumbledore turned back to the boy, thinking how much could he actually reveal. The sun peaked through the fog for merely a minute before it disappeared again, leaving behind a sense of an illusion.
“You see, Harry, that part of the war - gathering the right information at the proper moment - needs a lot of smokescreens to function. And dealing with someone as intelligent and cruel as Voldemort, requires not only strength, but also a lot of cool and creative intellect.”
Harry stood silent, pondering his choice to discuss his concerns with the headmaster.
Sometimes, Harry felt like Dumbledore saw the world in a different, tilted perspective. One minute, the old wizard was benevolent and understanding, the next, he was manipulative and deceptive. It was hard to convey the world of chiaroscuro back to full color spectrum. The need to be able to differentiate black from white was frustratingly strong.
“The world doesn’t exist purely of the Order and the Death Eaters, Harry. Like professor Snape, there are many, many people on the ins and outs of this war, who are simply caught in between. It would be wise to remember that.”
The way Dumbledore held Harry’s gaze on these last words, made the boy aware the headmaster already knew of his troubles.
“I can’t help it, Professor. I don’t like Hermione spending all that time around Snape.” He blurted out, feeling oddly guilty.
“Professor Snape.” The old wizard’s eyes glinted with humor, as he emphasized the title.
“I always admired the way Miss Granger managed to balance out her incredible empathy to others with her ability to defend whatever cause she deemed just.”

Harry did not reply. The memory of Hermione punching Ron back in August was living vividly behind his green eyes. Together with a few other words that have been said in the meantime, he was beginning to feel like he and Ron really were treating her horribly. If Hermione befriending the blond ferret of Slytherin was anything to go by, they really had to make amends.
“Tell me Harry, why did you go after the Sorcerer’s stone in your first year? Or why did you rescue miss Weasley only a year later?”
The headmaster counted on his trebling blackened fingers, regaining Harry’s attention.
“Why did you deem Sirius worth saving in your third?” Dumbledore added quietly.
The room went dark and small all of a sudden. Merely a mention of his late Godfather’s name and Harry’s world shifted under his feet. But the pressure in his chest made him reply honestly.
“Because I believed he was a good man.”
“Most people disliked him. Feared him, even.” Dumbledore pressed on.
“He was even considered a…bully, in his school days. Much like Draco, really.”
“Yes, he was flawed, but given his life - I found that understandable. He just needed an opportunity to do more than survive.” Harry said carefully.
“Indeed. I do wish he had more time.” Dumbldore couldn’t hide his own melancholy.
“So, I presume, you believe if he had the freedom to...develop his character further, reinvent his true self without the burden of prejudice that was directed at him, Sirius would become what we call a good man?”
Knowing full well, Dumbledore was trying to teach him something, Harry did his best not to close himself off and rebel against the headmaster’s authority.
“Yes,” he replied, eager and a little frightened to see where this conversation was headed.
“Yes...” Dumbledore repeated.
“And do you believe he could be influenced by having a close relationship, a sort of family with you. Influenced to try and be his best self even if the rest of the world saw his as a monster?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, my boy. If that can be applied to Sirius, why not Professor Snape? Or even - the young Mister Malfoy?”
The noose around Harrys own throat was complete. He knew full well he walked into it, freely. Accepting there was no way back to the comfortable ignorance he pursued mere minutes ago, Harry looked at the headmaster with tight lips.
“You are telling me it is better to let Hermione befriend them, because it is more likely she will have a positive influence on the two of them, than it would be to make her choose sides.”
“Exactly, my boy.” Dumbledore’s fingers shook, as he lifted his wand to procure a thread of silver strand of thought from his temple, dismissing it into the penesieve.
“There are bigger things you should concern yourself with, Harry. Bigger enemies to face.”

Looking at the curse, spreading through his black veins, Dumbledore went quiet for a few moments. At last, he sighed deeply, almost slumping into the great ornate chair behind his desk, looking ill.
“I cannot tell you much, since you did not learn to protect your mind from the Dark Lords. But I can tell you this, Harry...my time here is running out. The war is almost upon us. We need those memories, so we can enter this fight with open eyes. Other ways, we’ve already lost.”

Hermione walked back into the half empty common room, Crookshanks in tow. It was just before sunset, and she was glad to be back early enough to catch up with everyone. Hermione knew full well she would need to find a way to balance out the time spent on her new relationship, with the older friendships so there would be no need for any more squabbling.
Suddenly, she understood Severus’s comment on the Order and the Death Eaters squabbling like children. She felt exactly the same way about her old friends from Gryffindor.
Her mind was still busy sorting through all the information on Voldemort she gathered from Severus this day. They spent the majority of their time at the cottage talking.
Draco explained his part, looking like he had undergone a roller coaster of personal revelations. Fear, guilt and what appeared to be a sense of relief. Severus, on the other hand, explained how he usually managed to manipulate or redirect Voldemort’s perception of the information Severus provided.

To say Hermione was worried about the two wizards, was to put it very lightly. The danger, the risks, the sheer complexity of espionage astounded her. But it also made her proud of her soulmate.
In Hermione’s eyes, he was quickly becoming the most brilliant, creative and powerful wizard alive. The thing she respected most was his humble nature. The only other wizards with Severus’s magical prowess that Hermione knew of, were Dumbledore and Voldemort. Two manipulative megalomaniacs with narcissistic tendencies to redeem their every action as done in the name of the greater good. Breathing in the familiar scents of hearth and burnt candles, lingering sweetness due to yesterday’s quidditch celebrations, Hermione felt her conscious root back into the present. What Hermione did not anticipate, was Harry.

He sat alone, looking lost between all the pillows that decorated his favorite corner couch. He waved her over, as if he sat there all afternoon, waiting for her.
“Hey there, stranger.” He nodded, looking slightly nervous.
“Have a minute? I really need to talk to one of my best friends.”
Hermione smiled. Nodded. She no longer felt the need to spit out every word that came to mind. Instead, she gave Harry time to maneuver his own way through this conversation.
“I - I just wanted to tell you...you were right. The other day, when you said that thing about making enemies. I am sorry I was acting childishly, making you choose sides and all.”
Still looking quite like he just ate something really sour, Harry went on.
“Not that I myself will befriend...them...but I think I am beginning to understand why it might be better to keep them close.”
“An enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Hermione said mirthlessly, stealing a look out the window to cover the emotions swimming in her eyes.
“Something like that, yeah.” Harry said.
“What about Ron?”
Harry looked around the room, spotting the tall redhead tangled up with Lavender in the nook beside the staircase.
“I think he is a bit preoccupied to worry about your new pet snakes.” He said, finally managing to laugh a little. Hermione followed his gaze and chuckled.
“When did that happen?”
“Yesterday at the party. Trust me, its best you missed it. Some asshole thought it would be funny to spike a whole batch of muffins with an attempted amortentia, but it was obviously a bad brew. Half of the Gryffindor got dizzy or had a headache, their noses clogged as if coming down with flue.”
“So McLaggen still didn’t learn how to count the stirring patterns properly.” Hermione smirked.
“I had the same hunch. No one else is pretentious enough to go to such lengths for the sake having a number of people like them, right?”
“Right.” Hermione said, remembering the way McLaggen always seeks attention.
“It seems he can never get enough. The more attention he gets, the more he craves.”
“I think he is the true threat inside the school, not the Slytherins.” Harry chuckled lightly.
“Who would have thought the day would come when I’d rather see you walk around with Malfoy instead of McLaggen.”
“I called him the idiot repellent the other day.” She giggled, remembering Draco’s expression.
“Who, Malfoy?” Harry could not hide his amusement.
“Yes! I feel safer now, than those previous weeks before Halloween.” She ran a hand through her curls, remembering the dreaded walks around the castle, always in hurry to get somewhere safe and cast her bubble of wards.
“Yeah, no wonder you got not one, but two big snakes to walk you around the castle. Even McLaggen would have to be completely mental to go after you now.” Harry said on a laugh, imagining Snape and Malfoy like two serpent like bodyguards, towering over an embarrassed Cormac.
“No more spying on me, then?” Hermione said, looking back at her friend. He truly seemed to have embraced the new state of things.
“No more spying. Or at least I don’t start worrying about McLaggen again.”
“Then I better keep my snakes close.” She teased, jabbing an elbow at his ribs.
“Right. Try to remember you have friends here in the Lion’s den as well.” Was all he managed to get out, before Ginny jumped him from behind the sofa, smoothly landing in his lap, looking elegant instead of clumsy.

“Hey stranger!” The redhead waved at Hermione, before smacking a loud kiss on Harry’s cheek.
“I take it this bonehead here managed to mend things with you, now, did he?” Hermione just nodded, feeling happy at least one relationship in Harrys turbulent life seemed to be constant. Ginny might have been bossy and pushy sometimes, but she also never stopped giving Harry love and support. Even when that meant nudging him to make things right.
“Can I presume you will be gone for most weekends this year?” Ginny smirked. She had a strong hunch Hermione was not telling the entire truth about her relationship with Snape, but she would take what she could get. Knowing Hermione, she probably had a good reason to take the route of secrecy.
“What? Why?” Harry jumped to life, looking from one girl to another.
Hermione already prepared herself for this scenario, after she spoke to Severus about their plans for the remaining school year. This was after all, her last year at Hogwarts, and her life was changing rapidly, already evolving into something her school friends would not be privy to partake in for at least some time now.
“Oh, I have a lot of things to juggle, really.” Hermione shrugged, hoping Severus’s advice on acting (instead of lying) would work. She tried her best to envision a version of her life, a parallel realm of sorts, where the information she would have to convey, were actually true.
”First there are the extracurricular lessons with Professor Snape, current schoolwork and on top of that - remember Violet, my godmother? She has a daughter, Ivy.”
Ginny squealed.
“I remember Ivy, you showed me her picture in the summer. She’s such a cute girl. Gods, I wish I had that ethereal bronze skin of hers.”

Hermione chuckled at her friend, knowing full well how little Ivy did not have to worry about getting sunburns. “Yeah, I know. Well, now that Ivy is seven, her uncontrolled magical episodes are becoming more frequent. So, I am trying to visit them on a weekly basis, to help her control her magic a little. I actually got the best advice for it back in the summer, Gin, from your mum. I really admire her for raising all of you, so I thought if anyone knew how to handle a magical kid, it would be her.”
There was a lot of half-truths in those words. Violet’s daughter Ivy really did have magical outbursts and Hermione did intervene with all the advices she had gotten from Molly.
But it was well under control now.
Secretly, Hermione lived to see the day Ivy came to Hogwarts, teaching another generation of stuck-up Purebloods of the power wielded by a bookish muggleborn know-it-all.

“What about your internship with madam Pomfrey?” Harry asked, suddenly remembering Hermione mentioned it a few times.
“Well - that had also transferred to my lessons with Professor Snape.” Hermione replied, thinking about how she healed him not even twenty-four hours ago.
“Her work at the infirmary is limited to the patients and their needs, which are mostly basic. Considering I already work with Professor Snape in my spare time, they agreed he could show me more complex healing spells and potions.”
“Oh, I bet he likes having someone to teach such complex lessons.” Ginny insinuated shamelessly.
Hermione held a breath, not really knowing what to do if Harry somehow caught wind of what the redhead in his lap was implying. Luckily, the boy seemed to have zoned out somewhere during Hermione’s lengthy explanations, so the curly witch managed to relax again.
“Indeed...he really is skilled at teaching.” Hermione quirked a side smile, looking just a fraction too smug.

The warm feeling of being at peace settled deep inside her chest, knowing she somehow finally managed to balance out the messy social scheme of her life. Hermione said goodbye soon after, returning to the familiar enclosure of her fourposter. Severus was already fast asleep in his quarters, still recovering from his injuries. Hermione sent a letter to her parents, and for the first time since Halloween, settled for studying in bed, Crookshanks purring softly next to her legs. It felt odd, not to exchange thoughts with Severus before going to sleep. But she had two essays to finish, so Hermione did her best to do what she did best. Study.

The next week flew by fast. Since Severus could not brew properly with his hands still suffering from tremors, Hermione and Draco took over his regular brewing for the Order and the Hospital wing. Most of the potions on the long list were either NEWT-level staples, so it was a good study practice to brew them under the watchful eye of the Potions Master, or they were simpler healing potions, that came in handy and were easy to brew. Those required larger batches. Hermione didn’t mind. She felt rather proud to be able to help Severus out. Support him.

This was the first time she got to see and work in his private potions laboratory. Despite general expectations, it was not so fashionable or state-of art as expected. Instead, it was really well organised, clean, and functional. Hermione loved it.
Draco was a good brewing and study partner. He also repelled McLaggen on a daily basis, so Hermione felt herself let her guard down, finally feeling free to move around school without a chip on her shoulder.

Severus surprised her now and then, snogging her in an alcove, ravaging her mouth until they both felt dizzy. Other days, he would join in on her patrol rounds and glare at anyone who would dare to be out of their dormitory so hard, no one seemed to pay any mind to the fact he was accompanying Miss Granger.
There was something romantic about the way he made to disillusion them as they ran away to the Forbidden forest, quietly laughing and stealing kisses while the wind whipped at their clothes.

They spent another weekend alone at the cottage, starting Friday evening. They were sleeping snuggled up together, revelling in the simplicity of not having to hide from anyone.
Severus would wake Hermione up with his mouth laving on her warm, pert nipples, his magnificent cock already hard and hot between her slick thighs. With his hand drawing steady circles around her bud of nerves, he went about driving her mad. Just before she would come with his name on her lips, he would bend down and change his tactics. Two fingers just a little deeper in her heat, his mouth on her clit. He changed tactics a few more times, just before she was about to fall apart under his ministrations.
Hermione whined and begged, tugging at the sheets where he fixed her hands with a sticking charm.  
The fifth time, he took her so high, she was on the verge of crying with frustration. His fingers stilled, pressed on that precious sweet spot, as his mouth moved away just enough to blow at her oversensitive clit.
Her inner walls fluttered intensely, and Severus sucked on her clit one last time because his little witch came with a glorious roar. A gush of liquid poured out of her core and soaked his unshaved chin. Tears streamed down Hermione’s flushed face, and Severus smugly licked his fingers clean, wiping the rest away with a swipe of his forearm.
“You can be such a heathen…” Hermione said breathlessly.
“Now let me have some fun.”

But Severus had other ideas. Instead of releasing her hands, he wrapped a fist around his erection, dragging the tip of his cock slowly across her sternum, smearing her skin with precum. He stopped just shy of her lips, teasing. Hermione lifted her head and licked at the blunt tip.
He began to stroke himself against her mouth, eventually spilling down her throat, marvelling at this wanton minx that was his future wife.  
She surprised him by pulling his head down for a sloppy kiss as soon as he released the spell on her hands. The tastes of their sex mixed in their mouths, giving Severus another pleasant thrill at the thought how they’d someday mix inside her womb instead.

When the sun got higher, Severus would take her out on his motorcycle, showing her amazing views from the cliffs and then descending down a narrow path to the sandy beach. Hermione took her boots off and ran into the freezing cold water, happy like a child. Severus just watched, warmth in his eyes. He would cast a subtle warming charm on her feet, just to make sure his witch didn’t catch a cold.
When Hermione had gotten tired of splashing around, he caught her hand and pulled her in for a dance. Thinking how he’d like them to hear the exact tune that was in his head all throughout the day, Severus stopped, his body going completely still.

“Let me try something.” He said abruptly.
There was an excitement to his face, a sort of frantic need to focus completely.
Hermione watched as his long pale fingers gently motioned the black wand through the salty air. A complex pattern of charms erupted. For that moment, Hermione would always remember Severus looking more like a conductor than a wizard. It was the moment when soft, classical melody drifted around them, like the wind itself blew in a tune from a thousand different instruments. Except there was no orchestra anywhere near them. Hermione gaped in astonishment.
“Did you just create a spell? To bring music? Here? Out of thin air?” She could not
remember when was the last time the magic seemed so … so magical.
“Yes.” He pulled her in for a searing kiss, their bodies swaying to the slow rhythm.
“You work wonders for my creativity, little witch. I can’t remember when was the last time I created a new spell. And so easily at that.” He kissed her again, more desperately.
“I love you, Severus. I love you, so much.” Hermione felt her eyes prickle with tears of joy.
“I love you, too.” He replied in earnest.

Hours seemed to have passed before they managed to come back to the cottage, with their stomachs empty but their hearts full. They could not stop touching each other since the beach, the need to be close was overwhelming.
It was not long before they were fed and heading upstairs for a warm bath. Their slick bodies nestled together in the big white clawfoot tub, magically enlarged to fit them both. Hermione could not keep still. Seeing or feeling his cock always made her mind go blank with lust.

“I want you, Severus.” She huffed out, sensuously plastering her slick body around him, water splashing gently over the rim and dripping down to the tiles.
“Patience, my love. Just a few more weeks.”
Hermione whined.
“We have to get back tomorrow and we still have work to do. You know, actual brewing.” He tried to dissuade her of the idea.
Laughing at her frustrated huff, he slid his hands down her body, turning her to sit in his lap, facing away from him. She leaned back, spooning into his embrace.
“Sweet Circe, you’re perfect.” He said hotly, his voice so low it was barely audible.
“Now how can you expect me to properly worship your body in only a few hours?” His hands began to mould her breasts, playing with soap.
“There are so many ways I want to take you. So. Many. Ways.”
As he felt her pant, he slid an arm up to tilt her head back, so their gazes met. Her kept his palm placed gently in a chokehold around her slender neck, feeling her frantic pulse under his fingers. There was nothing but desire in his eyes, as he slid his other hand down between her legs, pleasuring her.
“Let me make it clear, Hermione. I will make love to you, the first time. Then, I will fuck you. And repeat it all over again. And again. Until you are so weak you won’t be able to walk. Until my seed is dripping down your thighs and your overly active brain goes completely blank.”

Feeling her body tense, he licked at the sensitive spot he discovered just behind her ear. He sucked in the tender skin of her neck, leaving a mark, a pad of a calloused and still slightly trembling finger mercilessly rubbing her clit.
“I’ll make you come so many times you’ll pass out.” He whispered, his voice pushing her over the edge.
Hermione came hard, his name echoing off the wet tiles in the room. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, her body and mind momentarily out of function.

Sometime later, she would return the favour, not letting him go to bed without being properly sated first. Hermione felt hungry for her lover. Maybe she was just a little surprised at how much pleasure she herself felt while pleasuring him. She slid down to kneal in front of him, the one soft towel under her knees, another in her hands, sensuously drying the remaining droplets of water while she trailed a path of small kisses up his thighs. It did not take long to make him rock his hips unvolountairly, his hands gripping the edge of the white sink. Her tongue was sliding around the tip of his cock, making him gasp. He muttered her name, again and again, each time he hit the back of her throat. She moaned around him, her throat contracting just a little as she tried to stretch her throat to accommodate his size. Thank goodness for the jaw-relaxing advices from the monthly Dentist’s journal she had read once over the summer. Tickling his sack with the tips of her fingers, she could see him tiptoe closer to the edge of his own peak. Severus came on a broken sob, his knees almost buckling.
Hermione simply slid her arms around his waist, listening to his racing heartbeat. He managed to pull her back into bed, half walking, half flying, before they both dozed off.

Severus loved the easy mornings with her. Back at the castle, he would do his routine and keep his Occlumency in check. But at the cottage, he felt the world belonged to them and for the first time in his life, let himself go. Let go of the need to control, to be on edge, to be focused on something greater than his own life.
He looked at the sleeping witch in his bed, her chest rising slowly. His Hermione was still so young and innocent, but she had a fierceness in her. Her mind was not only brilliant, but kind and wise beyond her years, her compassion like a muscle she had built over the years of overcoming being caught between two worlds. Always being surrounded by people who did not understand her, not completely.

When they returned to the castle, they got to work. Draco joined in, updating them on what went on while they were away. It was useful to have another spy around, trading information. Draco was naturally talented to slither in and out of company, seamlessly manipulating the situations to his benefit. If they managed to fix what was broken in the Wizarding Britain, Severus could easily imagine Draco becoming the Minister for Magic someday.
They just had to fight a war first.
Make sure they survived.

The end of November was suddenly upon them.

The castle had become cold. Little sparks of frost clung to the ornate metal bars that encompassed one of the windows leading down to the dungeons. It was Tuesday and Hermione had just spent her entire afternoon at Herbology, harvesting the ripe berries of the silver mistletoe. The skin on her hands felt dry and splitting at the fingertips, her body shivering with cold despite the thick jumper and her beloved wool coat.

Hermione didn’t care whether Harry and Ron would find it odd for her to skip dinner. Again.
She needed Severus. Her period was starting in probably less than a day, and she had not yet told him. She simply needed to be close to him. Freely walking into his private quarters still caused a heady jolt to her system. Hermione marvelled at the sight of him, buried in piles of parchment and notebooks, a tower of books on the floor to his right. He was frowning, biting the inner wall of his cheek. The pale rays of sunshine filtered through the water beyond the enchanted underwater window to his right. It painted the shadows on his face a whimsical shade of green.

Moments like this, when she could observe him freely, enjoying his little mannerisms, were the ones Hermione treasured deeply - the simple fact he no longer felt the need to be anyone but his unguarded self around her.

Hermione hung her coat on the peg by the door, untangling her scarf, putting her bag down on the designated wooden chair. She walked to him, her feet bare but for the pair of thick wool socks. Circling his overflowing workspace, she stepped behind Severus and slid her arms around his waist as she pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his sharp cheekbone.

"You're early." He stated simply, his voice signalling he was still a little absent minded.
"It’s freezing outside." She replied, nuzzling into the side of his head with her cold nose.
His hand reached for one of her own, a thumb skimming over her aching knuckles.
Hermione could feel his focus stray from the work, and settle on her. Severus lifted her hand to his face, inspecting the state of her splitting skin before pressing a soft, loving kiss to her fingertips.
"We need to take care of you, my love. I don't want you to come down with sickness at this time of the year. December will soon be upon us."

The fire in the hearth suddenly roared louder, the scones shone brighter and Hermione found herself spun around to sit in his lap before she could do as much as yelp. In the embrace of his strong arms, she felt at home.
This - him - was just what she needed.

The dark wizard kissed her lips in a sweet toe-curling way. With a flick of his black wand, a jar flew in from the direction of his potions laboratory. Hermione watched as his dexterous fingers dipped into the gooey paste that smelled strongly of marigold and St. John’s wort, and proceeded to massage it gently onto her wounded skin. After disposing of the jar, he looked up at her face, clearly happy to have taken care of her.

"Let’s take a hot shower, that’ll warm you up…" he drawled lazily.
"This work won't go anywhere, obviously…and I need a good reason to procrastinate."
He got up from his chair with his arms full of Hermione. It kept surprising her, how strong he was. How he moved so effortlessly.
They stripped each other in silence, the air between them growing thick with sexual tension.
His face once again, gave away nothing, but his eyes were a different story. His black orbs were filled with hunger and desire so deep Hermione’s knees gave way under the force of his gaze. He stepped towards her, and kept stalking her steps until her back hit the cold stone-like tiles of the shower that was just big enough for the two of them. Severus quickly displayed his flawless skills in wordless, wandless casting as a spray of hot water soaked them.

Hermione’s breath caught as he pressed her against the wall, caging her in with his pale, muscular body. The skin of his torso was softly brushing against hers, the black hair that covered his legs tickling her thighs, sending delicious little jolts through her body. Severus slowly inclined his head as Hermione brushed some strands of his wet hair out of the way.

Their first kiss was slow, sensuous. His plush lips enveloped hers with such softness, her eyes fluttered close as she surrendered completely to the sensations he offered.
His tongue darted out to lick at her bottom lip, tracing the curve of her cupid’s bow. Her mouth fell open on a little gasp, pleasant shivers running down her body as he explored her. Hermione was so lost in his kisses, she did not even know how he managed to get soap on his hands. But he did, sliding them torturously slow up her arms, over her shoulders and collarbones, down her back, around her arse and finally, finally, pulling her hips forward. His big throbbing cock was already weeping with drops of pre-come. Hermione moaned louder and Severus dug one of his hands into her wet hair, pulling her head backwards so her entire body arched into him. There was no doubt he was in charge of this sensual exploration, each advance of his hands and mouth marked with precision.

"My sweet Hermione" he purred against her throat, before biting down gently. His chin and mouth both prickled with a day’s worth of stubble, leaving bright red scratches all the way down her neck. Her sternum. He licked the water of one pebbled nipple, sending her mind reeling with pleasure, then the other. The urge to touch him grew too strong. She cupped his balls with one hand, while the other stroked him gently in time with her rocking hips. His hot head passed her clit every time she pushed her hips forward, pleasure shooting through her system. She could hardly believe this was happening. To get this much pleasure without even having him inside made her think on how good it would be to feel herself finally stretch around his hot shaft.

The heat pooled in the pit of her belly, her walls clenching at the mere thought of having him inside.
"Can we try something?" She said wantonly. His mouth stopped his sinful ministrations on her collarbone, as he straightened to his full height to tower above her.
"Show me." he demanded, his voice raspy with desire.

The images of the tip of his cock sliding into her just enough to stretch, and not entirely enough to spear her properly, filled his mind. Her hands flicking her clit, showing him just how she likes it best.

"You might be overestimating my self-control, witch." He hissed out, while his mind was already busy transfiguring a proper ledge to accommodate them. It was slippery, but with another cushioning charm, just comfortable enough for them to continue.
Hermione arched her back, wrapping her legs around him tightly. Severus guided his cock with one hand, as he used the other to support himself on the wet tiles. Hermione’s sweet little cunt was dripping with juices, her fragnant slick making him want to just slide all the way in and conquer.
But as was his way of life, Severus restrained his desire, slowly sliding his cock up and down her folds, teasing.
"Severus, please!" Hermione gritted her bottom lip with her teeth.

He pushed his blunt tip inside just a little, slightly tilting his hips forward. He stopped as he was just deep enough, he could still see the ridge under the head. Thats how he'd stay, he told himself. He had to grind his jaw to keep himself from growling.
"You're so tight, love. So perfect." He hissed instead, his voice sending another shiver through her body. Hermione snaked her hands down and began to pleasure herself. It was so, so filthy, what they were doing. Severus eased his own need to plunge with stroking himself in earnest, the tip of his cock embedded in her slick warmth. Entranced by her nimble fingers, pressing down and rubbing her clit, he barely noticed his own peak approaching. Hermione’s entire body became still as her walls tightened around him, before she fell apart. The force of her spasms squeezed him, almost pushed him out.
Severus watched her face contort with pure pleasure. Hermione was scrunching her nose again, biting her lips as she moaned. He barely managed to pull the tip out before he spurted his seed all over her. Rocking his hips to rub at her spasming folds, his twitching cock shot out his come, one spasm of pleasure after another as he painted her thighs white.
They slid to the floor of the shower, their sticky bodies tangled. They were chuckling like crazy, stealing featherlight kisses, feeling high from the afterglow.
"Gods, Hermione. I came so hard I saw stars and I was hardly in you." Severus shook his head, astonished at his luck in life.
In moments like this, it hit him hard. That this was what he had been waiting for his entire life, never truly believing it would ever come to pass.
Not for him.

Feeling connected, Hermione could sense the echo of what went on inside him. She simply curled into him, kissing him sweetly.
"I am so glad we did this. I can’t wait to finally have you fully."
He groaned at her sweet admission, his half hard cock twitching.
"You make me feel so many things, Severus. It's overwhelming."
Hermione held him close for a while, the soft spray of water running over their bodies, keeping them warm.

It felt like an eternity before they got out, dry and barely clothed. Severus pulled his trousers back on, walking around with his feet and chest bare. He gave Hermione one of his T-shirts and a thick sweater, while she pulled on her socks. His clothes hung loosely on her feminine frame, but Severus could not help himself thinking, this was how he liked her best. Wrapped in his oversized clothes, all rumpled with her curls stubbornly coiling in all possible directions, because she used a few quick drying spells instead of taking time to tame them properly.
"Come here." He beckoned. He sat in a kitchen chair, rubbing another layer of healing salve into the skin on her hands.
"You will take this with you, when you go back. Apply it again in the morning."
Hermione sighed, her shoulders visibly slumping.
"I wish we could be out in the open. So, I could stay here every night and snog you whenever we pass in the hall." She said quietly.
"You would?" A smile tugged at Severus’s lips.
"Of course. I’d flaunt your last name mercilessly. Love is not for the faint hearted."
Hermione’s fiery admission won her a throaty, delighted chuckle.
“My lioness. I bet you would knock down every opposing party." Severus’s voice was full of admiration.
"Gods, I love the way you throw a punch. If I had not been half mad for you already, I would surely fall the second you knocked that Weasley boy out."
Severus disappeared into what Hermione deemed his kitchen nook. It was a small alcove on the side of his living quarters, just two cabinets and a fire stove in the corner, a small old-fashioned sink in another. She watched him prepare hot chocolate and pull out a tin box of biscuits as they talked about her classes, his lessons and laughed at the little side stories about the magical mishaps in the classroom.

They sat by the fire, Severus in his black leather chair, Hermione on the thick ornate carpet, leaning back onto his long legs for support. He wrapped her neatly into a thick moss green bedspread, and Hermione never wanted to leave. Honestly, she just wanted to feel close to him.
All the time.
"How about I transfigure my pillow to look like I am asleep? Throw some notice-me-not charms around my fourposter? Maybe I could even ask Ginny to tell the girls I would come in late and sleep in or something. I need to find a way to stay here."
Severus stared into the hearth, listening to her scheming. The only thing that concerned him still, was Potter’s map. They would have to find a way around that, especially after they marry.
"I spoke to Albus again this morning. The castle seems supportive of our union, so it will form a new secret passage, from your dormitory to my quarters. But it is yet to be determined, how. The staircase is out of the question. A sort of floo connection also." Severus stopped when he saw Hermione’s astonished face.
She angled her shoulders so she could turn back to look up at him. Severus felt another smile tug at his lips. He could almost hear the wheels in her head turning.
"It's either going to be like a big tunnel slide - like the ones leading down to the Chamber of secrets, or..." Hermione managed, before Severus interrupted her with his outburst.
"Salazar! I always forget you actually know what it’s like. But I see your point. And the other?"
He was honestly curious about her ideas. The way her mind worked fascinated him to no end. Maybe because she worked the problem differently as him, while maintaining all the same values - efficiency, methodology, preciseness. He never met another person to go by his rules and be able to find yet another way of solving a problem.
"Have you ever read Alice through the looking glass? By Lewis Carrol?"
"Have I lived in a muggle town, went to muggle public school for six years?" He replied sarcastically. Hermione simply gave him a look, not much different from the one he'd give the dunderheads in the classroom.
"Well, I don't know if it is somehow magically possible to create such a portal between our living spaces. But I'd certainly find that the best of our options."

Severus simply stared, dumbfounded.
"You're brilliant." He said, his voice filled with awe.
"I love the way your mind works."
He bent forward to kiss her temple, then her nose, then her mouth. Hermione giggled.
"Stop. We still have tonight to worry about."

But despite her playful protests, she did not move away one bit. His black hair was falling forward like a thick curtain, tickling her chin. It no longer smelled of classroom, but of clover, sage and rosemary.
"Why tonight?" He asked sincerely.
Sometimes, Hermione’s decisions appeared rash and impulsive. But Severus learned long ago she rarely relied on instinct alone. That was more Potter-Weasley domain. Hermione always had a solid reason, even if it was not an obvious one.

A bright shade of pink found its way onto Hermione’s pale, freckled cheeks.

"Khm…well, I am pretty sure I will start my…iamstartingmyperiod." She mumbled out in a rush, before covering her face.
Taking another deep breath, she straightened her shoulders like a soldier, looking him straight in the eye.
"My cycle. It starts tomorrow. I am not spending those dreadful days alone in my bed."
She sighed, obviously growing tired.
"I will probably have to take one or two days to get through the worst of it. The rest of the work days if it’s really bad - and it feels like it." Severus was running his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots as he went.
"I will get you a sick leave notice from Poppy."
The tone of his voice let Hermione know it was decided.
"You will have to act out a few conversations, but we can make it happen."
Severus kissed her gently, then pulled away to look into her eyes.

"I still remember the first time you were down for your monthly cleanse and I was too much of a coward to come to you. Make it better.”  His voice gave away the unresolved anger he felt towards himself.
“I know you sent me the potions. And the chocolate…Cerberus brought them.”
"I should have done more. But I was a coward.” Severus was still scowling, but his voice was already growing softer.
“Just tell me what you need, little witch…and consider it done."

This time, it was Hermione that kissed him. She flung her arms around his chest, pulling him down so he practically toppled over. Of course, Severus caught himself by his forearms, his body slowly descending to press down on her outstretched figure. Their mouths melted into one, their kisses languidly chasing away the eternity.
"I can’t wait to make love to you." He said between kisses.
"I want to find endless way to pleasure you. To have you, again. And again…Until we can go no further and just sleep, tangled up, for days. Then I want to wake up, knowing it is real, and do it all over again." Severus’s deep voice was soft as velvet, whispering near her ear.
"I want to watch you conquer life and be along to support you, to love you through everything." He pressed a kiss on her pulsing vein.
"I want to live everyday beside you, knowing I didn’t miss a thing. Not a tear, or a laughter, or a kiss, wasted. I love you…So. Bloody. Much."
"Oh, Severus." Hermione buried her face into his broad shoulders, breathing him in.

"Here you go, let your friends know we are doing a long study session."
Hermione took the coin he had summoned for her, sitting up. She tapped it a few times, making sure only Ginny and the boys got the message. Ginny’s reply came almost instantly.
"Have fun brewing.”
Hermione chuckled. Oh, if her friend only knew the whole truth. Sighing, she dismissed the coin back to her bag, looking for Severus.
She found him at his massive desk, hastily scribbling on a piece of parchment.
There was a loud hoot and suddenly, Cerberus flew into the room.
Landing gracefully on one of the big book piles, the black owl hooted once more, turning its head at Hermione.
"Did he just greet me?" She wondered aloud. She took a tin of owl snacks from her bag and offered one on her outstretched hand. The black beak took it with obvious gentleness. Hermione stroked a finger over its silky feathers and the owl let out a purring sound.
Severus chuckled at the sight.
"Is there anyone who is not smitten with you?" He said, giving the letter to Cerberus.
"No wonder that orange menace keeps leaving fur all over my wardrobe. I bet he is in there now, sleeping."
There was unmistakable mix of annoyance and fondness in the way Severus spoke of Crookshanks. Hermione pretended she did not notice the man had already planted a pot of catnip at the cottage, and made sure he had a bowl of fresh water and a plate of cat snacks in both of his places. No, Hermione knew Severus and Crooks would have to make the connection on their own, any interference on her part would only strain the bond between them.

"Next, he will be coming to curl up under your chair while you rage over the dunderhead nonsense." Hermione said, watching Cerberus steal a haughty glance in the direction of the wardrobe, before hooting nonchalantly and flying away.
"I just informed Minerva that you will be spending next few days under my care. I don’t have any doubt she will be able to provide a suitable notice of absence for the rest of the staff." Severus looked up to see Hermione standing beside him, pulling him by the hand.
"Come to bed, love. It's getting late." She said softly, pulling the clothes over her head.

She looked glorious in the dim light of the fire crackling in the hearth. It painted her skin with ever changing patterns of gold and amber, her honey curls somehow darker and even more wild than usual. The pale constellations on her shoulders now barely visible, as if to entice him to come and take a closer look. His gaze travelled up her firm round thighs. The generous curve of her heart shaped arse. The little dimples on the small of her back. The subtle arch of her spine. The mere sight of Hermione walking into his bedroom made Severus thank the Gods he was blessed with the gift of her.
His witch. His future wife. His soulmate.

Their wedding was approaching fast, and Severus had spent many nights up preparing his lesson plans or brewing long lasting potions in advance, so he could spend the first weeks of their marriage focused on them. It was worth the tiredness. Now, he felt the familiar pull to go lay down beside Hermione and sleep. There was never any need for barriers between them, as he slid under the covers to tangle up next to her. Hermione just finished casting a sort of protective spell over her cotton underwear to prevent blood from spilling onto the bedsheets in case her period started in the night. Severus spooned behind her, placing his large warm palm protectively over her soft belly. It felt a little different now that he paid attention.
And so Severus laid by his witch, listening to her breaths slowly evening out, letting her presence lull him to deep sleep.

There was no light coming though the underwater window. Severus got up quietly, letting Hermione sleep. He could sense the pain was already spreading through her lower back. Well rested from their early night, he went to brew her potions. Using the blood he managed to get from Hermione one evening when he oversaw Draco and her brewing blood replenishing potions Now Severus could make sure the potions for her cycle were strong and potent, tailored specifically to her needs.
Leaving them to simmer in the laboratory, Severus made his way back to the bedroom. Casting a silencing charm on the big fourposter, her got out the large metal crate with his work out gear.

Still wearing nothing but black sweatpants, he got to work on his usual morning routine. He warmed up his body, then began the repetitions. Stopping only to stretch, each physical exercise had a mental counterpart, created to train his mind to perfection. Lost in the empty space in his head, Severus did not hear Hermione stir in bed.

She woke up to the dull ache in her lower belly, cramps alerting her that she needed the potions, she needed fresh underwear… But what caught Hermione’s attention suddenly, was the sight of Severus’s bare torso, pulling up and down on the metal bar he inserted under the door frame. He was facing away from her, giving her the opportunity to gulp down the visage of every single muscle on his back. The sweat on his pale skin glistened in the dim morning light. He must have been at it for a considerable time already, judging from his heaving chest and the pile of used weights on the floor.

Hermione sat up in bed, prompting herself on the pillows. There goes the mystery of his insanely defined muscles, she thought to herself. Not feeling like interrupting him, Hermione decided to silently watch him finish. This way, she could enjoy the show.
Severus felt her eyes on his skin, but finished the exercise anyway. Smirking to himself, he let go of the bar, going for another set of weight lifts before the final stretching. There was pure male pride in the way he flexed his already tired muscles. He kept quiet, and Hermione followed his lead.
Finally done with his workout, he cleaned the equipment and the floor with a few quick wordless spells, dismissing the metal crate back under the bed. Still quiet, Severus threw a playful wink over his shoulder, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Hermione sat on the bed, feeling properly distracted.
Who was this man? And sweet Circe, she could get used to waking up to see him like that. Suddenly, she had so many questions.
Then, despite him being in the other room, Severus’s voice rang through her mind in answer.
“Good morning to you too, love.” He chuckled darkly.
“And here I thought you’d look forward to a different kind of morning activities with me…”

A few minutes later Severus was back, buttoning up his black shirt. He brought Hermione her potions. Their fingers brushed momentarily.
It still sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, when they touched. He looked at the curly witch, all tangled up in his bedsheets.
The softness in her sleepy eyes overthrew him.
This? This was completely uncharted territory, to be constantly accepted and have his feelings acknowledged, requited.
The thing was, Severus felt seen.
And it confused him, that Hermione did not seem to mind not one of his quirks or flaws. Sometimes, he wondered what in the name of Merlin she saw in him, but each time such questions emerged, the memories of her gentle praising words helped him quell the negative mental spiral. Quash it in its infancy.

Hermione got dressed and since it was still too early for them to get caught, Severus walked her back to the Gryffindor tower.
She disappeared behind the painting,disillusioned and quiet as a whisper.
Severus spun on his heel to march to Dumbledore's office.
And so his scheming began.

Chapter Text

Severus’s plan has, of course, worked.
He managed to manipulate Dumbledore to create a portal between Hermione’s fourposter and his own bedroom in the same day, so his little witch was free to spend her days recovering down in his private quarters.
That first day he barely made it to the end of his classes, anxious to return to the dungeons. From what she’d told him, the portal worked well – it was a two way mirror, pulling her in on one side, letting her out on the other.
Hermione managed to convince Ginny and the rest of the girls she caught a flue on top of having her period. The choir of usually attentive teenagers were immediately convinced it was best to let Hermione rest. If they didn’t see her for a few days she was probably at the Hospital wing.

As soon as they left her alone in the privacy of her bed, Hermione noticed a mirror, simple in it’s design, attatched to the wooden frame in a corner that was hardly visible from the room. If she kept the curtains a bit more loose, no one would notice it. One hand still on Crooks, she skimmed her fingers over the rim of the cold surface, only to find herself and the cat exiting the mirror that hung in the corner of Severus’s bedroom.
That day, like many others further into the week, students found Professor Snape to be even more impatient and ill tempered than usual. And no one thought, how the way the dark menacing wizard looked at his watch, the way he dismissed his classes the minute their lesson has run out, was because he was in a hurry to return to the curly witch, curled up in the center of his bed.

The remaining days of the week passed by the same. November turned into December as Hermione took the days and nights to sleep and recover, not only from her period, but from the mental strain of double study load as well. She needed to make sure she was healthy. First, there was the wedding, and it was coming at them fast. Hermione certainly did not want to walk down the isle with a runny nose. Then, soon after the holidays, there was the midterm exams. Hermione felt prepared, but still. So she listened to Madam Pomfrey and Severus, staying in the dungeons and resting. Posy popped in from time to time, bringing her trays of food.

By Friday, she felt good enough to make an appearance at the Gryffindor tower. Harry, Ron and Ginny waved her over to their usual spot in the common room.
“Hiya there, sicko!” Ginny hugged her affectionately.
“You look like a ghost!” The boys roared out with laughter, Hermione shutting them up with a scowl. Harry felt his skin prickle, there was something oddly familiar about that expression.
“You bleed like a slaughtered pig for a week and lets see how pale you look.” She said playfully, knowing all too well that Ginny had the blessing of mild and short periods, and the boys would rather fight the bloody dark lord himself, instead of listening about period.
“We made you a get better card, but Madam Pomfrey refused to take it.” Ron said, his cheeks and ears blushing furiously. He pushed a piece of parchment into her hands, its corners already a little torn. There was a rough sketch of a curly haired stick figure, surrounded by two snakes with black capes.
A crooked inscription (definitely Harry’s) read:
“Get well soon. Long live Hermione, the tamer of snakes.”
Hermione roared with laugher, her head thrown back, her hair cascading down her back like a curtain. She did not notice three pairs of eyes fixing themselves at a certain point on her pale neck. The love bite she missed when casting her glamours was still visible, healing and a little faded, but certainly and unmistakably there.
“Hermione, is that a love bite?” Ron was the first to come to his senses. Or maybe he was just the only one who spoke quicker than he thought.
“Oh, um. That.” Hermione rubbed a hand over her neck, thinking furiously about how to get out of this mess.
“Oh is that from the leech accident you told me about?” Ginny supplied quickly, her eyes a little too wide, gaze a little too intense. She was throwing her a lifeline, Hermione knew.
“Yes! That’s it, I completely forgot I still had it. Gosh, you got me completely confused there for a moment. It was a leech. Malfoy got clumsy in the ingredients cupboard, a jar of leeches slipped through his fingers. It was hilarious, really. I only got one, luckily. Imagine being covered with them. Ick.” Hermione shuddered, trying really hard to focus on the mental image of leeches, instead of the memories of what Severus did to her that day. How his mouth felt against her throat.
“Are you sure it was a leech?” Harry teased.
“Looks more like a snake bite to me.”
Ginny knew Harry well. That meant, she knew he was suspecting something, and will not let go of the subject easily. But knowing him, also meant she had a pretty good grip on how to distract him.
“Hey Hermione, I bet you will need to copy some of the class notes from Harry and Ron right?” The redhead changed the topic swiftly, hoping it would work. Nothing flustered the boys as much as schoolwork. She turned her pleading green eyes to her boyfriend, running her fingers seductively through his disheveled hair.
“Baby, would you be good and get your notes from this week. I bet Hermione would like to catch up during the weekend.” Harry looked at the witch in his lap with dazed eyes, as if entranced.
“Yes, sure, um. Right away. Hey Ron, didn’t you write down something in Herbology as well?” Ginny chuckled quietly as the boys disappeared upstairs, scratching heir heads as if they were the one missing classes.
“Huh, that was close. You better glamour those monstrosities on your neck next time.” She winked at Hermione. The curly witch was blushing brightly.
“Yeah I completely forgot about that. Thanks!” She huffed out, still a little shaky.
“So the brewing is going well?” Ginny wiggled her eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief. Hermione stared at her, completely at a loss.
“Yeah, he is great. Really skilled. At brewing, of course.”
“Look, I know there must be something more going on, obviously. I know you can’t tell me the full story. Again, obviously. You were with him, this week? Because I know you were not at the infirmary. I checked the map when Harry was not looking.”
“Yes…I was in the dungeons.” Ginnys eyes went wide.
“You mean, all the time? Day and…night?”
“Yes.” Hermione felt like her face was on fire.
“I bet you have more than one of those marks on you.” Ginny squealed, while Hermione casted a few protective charms around them. Muffliato. Notice-me-not.
“If I told you the truth, Ginny, I’d have to obliviate you. That’s all I can say.” Hermiones face went dead serious.
“Not if I guess at it. Then it can still be treated as a figment of my imagination.” Hermione sighed. Sometimes, she forgot how smart was Ginny. “Guess away, then.”
“I guess…you are more than just courting. I guess the two of you are already in an established relationship. I guess you spend a lot of time together…and judging by the state of your neck, your access to his private quarters, you are either already married, or heading there fast. I guess you won’t wait until the school is out. I guess no one can know, until the noseless nuisance is successfully overthrown.”
Hermione stared at her, whiskey eyes suddenly prickling with tears.
“I always thought you were a great quidditch player, Ginny.” She whispered, hoping her friend would catch the double entendre.
“You aim so precisely, just hand you a quaffle and its through the hoop.” The two witches just stared at one another in perfect silence. Ginny nodded, slowly. She understood. A breath whooshed out of Hermione, her shoulders relaxing again.
“I can’t wait until the war is over.” Hermione said quietly.
“It had not even begun, and I can already wish it was over.”
Looking through the window, her eyes fixed on the Black lake below them, she thought of Severus. Ginny snaked an arm around her shoulders, thinking of her own raven haired wizard. She squeezed her lightly, reassuringly.
“Me too, ‘Mione, me too.”

The soft light of that December Sunday seeped through the window, illuminating the wide space. Shadows of gray and blue painted the furniture with a quiet chiaroscuro. There were three long tables in one corner, the wall behind them lined with long shelves. Fabric of all colors and textures were stacked with ruthless precision. Next to them were large pin up boards, filled with pictures and sketches of Violets latest project. Underneath them stood a chest of drawers, some filled with ribbons, some with buttons, some with sewing patterns.

Female laughter floated over from the other corner of the room, where Violet and Jean sat in two cushy wing chairs, a tray with tea and biscuits to keep them company. Hermione managed to flick the last of the little buttons shut with a simple spell.

“Ready?” She called out in a shaky voice.

Twin gasps of awe did not prepare Hermione for what she’d see in the full length mirror as she spun around. The young woman in a pearl white gown looked like she was a woodland queen of another realm. Small vines of dark green embroidery snaked around her torso, down the length of her sleeves, up from the bottom of the skirt. The dress enveloped her body like a dream, the bodice emphasized her small waist and pushed up the delicate curve of her breasts, while the skirt clung to her hips just before it gently flared out and slid over the floor.

Hermiones breath hitched, her eyes stung with tears. Jean stood up, pulling her daughter into a light embrace. It finally felt real somehow, the wedding. Arms wrapped tight around one another, mother and daughter shared a silent smile.

“This is all going so fast, honeypot. You have all the right in the world to slow down if you need to. He will understand, I am sure.”

“No. I’m overwhelmed, that’s all.

Hermione took a deep breath. She could not tell about his espionage, she could not let it show she was worried for Severus, because while she was trying on her wedding dress, he was at the Malfoy manor, doing his bidding to the Dark Lord.

Violet took a picture of them, smiling wistfully.

“Gosh, I can’t imagine Ivy getting married some day.”

“Where is the little pixie?”

Hermione glanced around. As if summoned by the mention of her name, the sound of little feet running in the hallway alerted them of the incomer.
“Auntie Mione!”

Ivy burst into the sewing room, a mane of dark chocolate curls flying with the force of her agile movements. The girl was tall for her age and just a bit lanky. Her bronze skin and amber eyes a testament to her Persian ancestry.
The girl scrambled to an abrupt halt as she saw Hermione, all donned up in her wedding gown. A sigh of pure girlish bliss escaped her.

“Woooow! You look so pretty! Like a fairy princess!”

The girls eyes turned as wide as saucers.

“Is it true? Are you really getting married?”

The barage of questions had only just began, Hermione knew. She had to stifle a laugh at Ivy’s enthusiastic approach.

“You have to let me be the flower girl! There is no proper wedding without a flower girl. I should know, I’ve read it in at least three hundred books Or was it forty-three? Anyway. You need a flower girl. You need ME!”

Jean and Violet burst out laughing. Hermione gently pried the little hands off her skirt and threw a glance at her own mother.

“Was I like that at seven?”

“Honeypot, you were worse.”

Another giggle escaped Jean, as the twin expressions of exasperation shot her way.

Hermione looked a bit worried for a second, before answering carefully.

“Ivy, I need you to listen to me very carefully. I can not promise you to be the flower girl, yet. If I can make sure the wedding is appropriately...organized, then I would love to have you as my flower girl.”

“Is this because of that evil wizard?”

Hermione froze in place, not knowing how to respond.

“I know I am only seven and a half, but I have ears you know. I hear things when the grown ups talk.”

The girl pursed her lips into a pout, slumping her shoulders. Hermione sighed, running a had over Ivy’s silky hair.

“I will try my best to make sure you and your family can come to my wedding safely. If - IF I can make that happen, I will call your mum. Three days, Ivy, just give me three days. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The pout was gone, the girl leaned into Hermione’s side as she ran her hand down her curls once more. Violet pryed Ivy away with the promise of buiscuites, so Hermione was able to slip back behind the vintage room separator, her eyes trained on the ornate panels as she undressed.

Hermione always considered Ivy as the little sister she’d never have. Ivy and her parents were just as much a part of her family as her own mother and father.
She still remembered the day when Violet came back from one of the international tours she took with the National Theater, declaring she had met the one. The man of her dreams. Crying her heart out because he lived halfway across the world. How could they be together if he lived not only in a different country, not only a different culture, but a different timezone?
Not only a month later, Ezra proved himself to be a determined man. He sold his family property in Persia and moved to England to search for the woman who stole his heart. Three months later they were married and as the fate would have it, Hermione herself was their flower girl.

Hermione rarely spoke to Harry and Ron about such matters. Harry was always nice about it, but it pained her to see how it usually reminded him of the misery he endured while with the Dursleys. Ron on the other hand, would zone out or make some childish display of being reminded she is actually a girl.

These days, she felt a little sorry she could not simply tell them the truth. About Severus. About the bond. About the wedding.

Only a year ago, she probably would not imagine getting married without her boys by her side. Sighing, she resolved it was not meant to be. Determination filled her lounges as she contemplated the possible solutions to having a slightly larger wedding party. She still had four days left before the wedding.

Jean and Violet took Ivy downstairs in the mean time, leaving Hermione to some peace and quiet.

Feeling grateful, she stepped back out and took another look at the mirror. The girl with a wild mane of honey curls stared back, her whiskey eyes bewildered. Hermione never cared much for her outer appearance, but she had to admit she was growing quite fond of the way she looked. She felt gentle acceptance of her body, as her eyes roamed down the snug rusty colored cardigan, a pair of washed out gray jeans and her usual brown leather lace up boots. A small thought entered her mind as she slowly turned away from the mirror. She finally realised what changed in the last months since her birthday. It was more in the way she felt rather than in the way she looked. Hermione was no longer a girl. She was quickly becoming a woman.

It was half past eight in the evening. Hermione was back at the castle for almost an hour and a half, but there was still no sign of Severus. She tried to convince herself not to worry.

The walls of the castle seemed to close in on her as she walked the stairs leading from the Gryffindor common room to the girl’s bedrooms, telling her friends she would tuck in early for the night. Properly distracted by the fact she was taking her NEWTS early, they simply assumed it was the main reason for her lack of interest in socializing. Not knowing weather to feel glad or annoyed by the fact her friends were so oblivious, she readied herself for bed and carefully slipped through the portal.

His bedchamber was still dark and cold. Hermione spelled the scones and the hearth to light up, filling the quarters with warmth. She laid out Severus’s healing supplies on the coffee table in the other room, feeling the need to prepare herself for the worst. Lately, Severus managed to please Voldemort, simultaneously fulfilling his orders and enveloping him in his own web of lies. Hermione didn’t know all the details of Severus’s scheming, but as far as she did, she realized the bat comparison was completely wrong.
If there was a likeness to him in any of the creatures, it would be a spider. Clinging to the shadows, carefully knitting a string after string of invisible webs, until their victim was completely unable to untangle themselves.

A mug of tea in one hand, a book on Arithmancy in the other, she settled into his large bed. She would wait up for him even if it took all night. Stealing another glance at his personal space, a reel of the memories they created in the weeks after Halloween filled her mind.
Ever since the castle connected their chambers three weeks ago, they haven’t spent another night apart.
She could see him striding out of the bathroom, getting ready for the day, or sweating through his workout before the dawn broke. She could smell him on the sheets, bergamot and herbs, feel the ghost of his arms as he wrapped around her in sleep.

Good Godric, she loved him. She loved him so much she was barely able to breathe sometimes.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Severus stumbled trough the entrance.

“Hermione?”

He called out. It was as if he was unsure whether he would find her there. Hermione rushed out of bed, her book and tea forgotten on the nightstand.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she burrowed into his cold embrace.

“You’re back.”

He was so, so cold. His cloak smelled of firewhiskey and black magic, his stance a bit unsteady.

Hermione looked up, as his arms slid down her back, his dexterous fingers already skimming over the expanse of the bare skin of her thigh, since she wore nothing but a pair of knickers and one of his shirts. His black eyes were glazed over.
Obviously, her future husband was at least a little drunk.

“I need a shower, love, before you let me touch you. I am positively filthy.”
Hermione had to suppress a giggle at the gravelly voice.

“And positively knackered?” She supplied with an amused grin.
He was obviously uninjured, which was good.

“Indeed... Sorry.”

He ran a hand over his face, his eyes pinched shut. A vile of Sobering potion flew into his hand and he downed it in one go. Hermione watched his throat contract as he swallowed, immediately shifting his stance upright and his mood a bit more sour.

“They managed to secure the majority in the Wizengamot. Now Dumbledore is the only obvious obstacle left in their way to overthrowing the ministry. There was talk of muggleborns being stripped of their rights and being forced to part with their wands the minute the Ministry falls under the Dark Regime.”

He frowned, little lines of worry etched in his pale skin. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair, drawing little circles over his scalp and kept quiet, knowing this was the best way to make him talk.

“We need to teach you wandless, maybe even wordless casting as best as we can.”

She kissed his cheek, nodding just a little in reply.

“Bellatrix and Grayback decided a drunken revel is the best way to celebrate the current progress to their cause. Draco and I barely managed to leave before they dragged in some Knockturn alley whores.

He shivered at the thought, disgust coursing through his veins.

“I can’t stand the thought of even touching another woman, love.”

“I know. Don’t worry. You’re back now.”

Hermione cooed gently, her fingers slowly undoing the buttons of his winter frock.

“You are my home.”

Severus said reverently, burying his nose in her hair.

“I am sorry I missed the dinner with your parents today.”

“It’s alright. I brought back some pie, if you’re hungry?”

“Ravenous...” He purred in her ear.

Stepping away, she pushed him in the direction of the bathroom with a playful grin.

“Go clean up, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Bossy.” He harrumphed. And did as she said.

Severus stood there, glued to the spot for another minute. Hermione’s tinkling laughter floated from the kitchen nook, wheres she went about plating him a meal, brewing him tea. He wondered if it would ever cease to amaze him, he was no longer alone in this world. What God he should thank for the gift of this brilliant, vivacious witch was beyond him. He only knew, each time he saw her smile at him, he felt endlessly blessed.

It was already a small habit of theirs, when they settled in front of the fireplace before going to bed. Severus relaxed, sated with good food, his muscles softened by the hot water. Hermione curled into his side, her legs swung over him.

“Ivy wants to be my flower girl.”

She said quietly.

“How much more dangerous is it if we add Violet’s family to our guest list?”

Severus remained quit for a moment.

“If Ivy is the only magical person on behalf of your relatives, I think it wont be too big of a problem. Minerva offered the best solution, I believe. She suggests we cast the same sort of spell on our property as the Potters did, only to extend the secrecy clause to add only the people in attendance can talk to each other about what happens there. A sort of selective tongue-tie curse if you will.”

“So I can talk about the wedding to Draco, for instance, while neither of us can talk about it to, say, Ginny?”

“Exactly.”

A pleased half smile curved the corners of his lips upward.

“I will need borrow Cerberus to let them know, then. Are we still using the temporary floo connection to bring all the guests?”

“Yes, Draco and I already tested the charms today. There is a loophole in the law that we managed to circumvent, so no one will notice a temporary transport path had been opened.”

Hermione squeezed her arms around his waist enthusiastically.

“You’re brilliant.”

Severus laid his chin on the top of her head, like he grew used to doing in the past weeks. Going through his own mental list for the wedding, he spoke quietly.

“We still need a witness for the ceremony.”

He paused, taking a breath. Hermione wondered what worried him.

“There is something...I never told you before, have I? I was the witness to the last couple of known soulmates at their wedding. Lucius and Narcissa were two years ahead of me at Hogwarts. Even after coming of age, the pureblood traditions forced them to take to the path of a year long engagement and courting, before they were allowed to be wed. I remember feeling envious about the certainty of having a life partner that is all yours, body and soul. I remember reading the magic of soulmates bond granting a special sort of blessing to the one who bears witness.”

Severus fell silent once more, his fingers gently stroking up and down her hip. His gaze was lost somewhere in the fire, as he spoke again.

“I remember being disappointed, after the wedding. Nothing changed. I realized my own wish for a soulmate had not been granted. I felt as if I was once again, undeserving of love I craved so badly. That combined with the weight of what went on in my life at the time, turned me cynical and bitter for many years to come.”

Hermione’s head churned with questions. She mulled over his words carefully.

“When were they married, exactly?”

She said quietly after a while.

“On the day you were born.”

Hermione faced him with wide eyes.

“Is this just a coincidence?”
Severus held her gaze, albeit still a bit distant because of the memories swimming around in his head like ghosts of someone else’s life.

“I am sure some part of it is bound to the magic that defines us. It is one of the ways the soulmate’s blessing is being passed on, but hardly the only way. Lucius and Narcissa were the same age, and still marked as soulmates. All I am saying is whoever bears our witness, will likely be saddled with a soulmate of his own.”

“Draco.”

Hermione’s voice left no room for argument.

“I want Draco as our witness. He is the obvious choice.”

“Alright.”

Severus gently stroked her hair, reveling in the sensation of his fingers becoming entangled in its softness.

“I shall talk to him tomorrow then.”
And so, it was decided. Severus ended the conversation by pulling Hermione into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom.

“Thank you for waiting up for me.”

He whispered into her ear.

No one heard their breaths hitch in unison as he laid her on the bed, covering her with his own body. No one heard their moans as their lips merged in searing kisses. No one knew how much pleasure their caressing touches brought to their shivering bodies as they melted into each other.
Slowly, the night swallowed them.

Next day after finishing the last of his lessons before the holidays began, Severus called for his apprentice. Draco stood in Severus’s study, peering at the countless book titles in front of him, as if they would help him understand the words that still rang in his ears.

“Are you serious? Me? Why?”

He could not wrap his mind around it, Not only being invited to the very private, very exclusive wedding, alongside bloody Dumbledore and McGonagall no less. No, he was to be their blessed witness? How the fuck was he suppose to feel about that?

“It was a unison decision, Draco, I believe this is reason enough. I might warn you tough, I do believe bearing witness to your parents might have granted me to have a soulmate of my own.”

Draco stared at him, astonished.

“You mean I might be blessed with soulmate’s magic by bearing witness to your bonding ceremony?”

It felt too good to be true. Too simple. Thinking how he used to daydream about Granger and envy his Godfather, his mouth spoke before he even managed to process his own decision.

“I will do it. Thank you, Godfather. You honor me immensely.”

His head bowed, a tight ball of anxiety bursting in his chest, Draco scrambled out of the Potions masters private quarters, sincerely hoping he would manage to get to the Room of Requirement before he fell apart.

On the last weekend in Hogsmeade before the Christmas holidays, Hermione told her friends she would spend her Christmas at home. She would, Hermione thought to herself. The only distinction was, everyone except her thought Hermione’s home was still with her parents.
Oh, how would they look if they knew the truth, she wondered. To make up to their disappointed and confused faces, Hermione decided to treat them at the Three broomsticks. That turned the mood around quickly.

Severus caught her eye across the bar as she entered.

“An impromptu hen night, Miss Granger?”

His voice was laced with honey, a flicker of lust moved in her core.

When his voice entered her mind, Hermione could not help but remember all the promises he made about the week they would spend together after they are wed.

“Ha-ha. Imagine their faces if they knew. Gods, I can’t wait for the day when we are free to be public.”

She replied, her words like a warming charm, embracing him through their mental connection. And once again, Severus couldn’t wait for the night to come, because then she’d be in his bed again, with her cold feet pressed between his, her hair like a blanket over his pillow, her adorable, occasional little snores reminding him – he was no longer alone.

The hours dragged on and the Gryffindor table in the back of the pub roared loudly, as Hermione obviously won another round of whatever board game they played, generously signaling to Madam Rosmerta for another round of butterbeer.

No one seemed to notice a curly wizard, lurking near the door to the restroom. McLaggen listened to the conversations, trying to gain some information as to what went on with pretty fucking miss Prefect.
It took Cormac a few weeks to stop wallowing in self pity over how his initial plans to sweep Granger off her feet dissolved into dust.
It took him another week to create a plan that would punish her, make her comply with his wishes and finally, incriminate that fucking Malfoy prat. He deserved to be punished for stealing her attention away from Cormac. Not just attention, but any chance to approach her at all. If he only played his cards right...

Waiting for Malfoy to enter the men’s toilet, he cast a dissillusionment on himself, moving closer to the Gryffindor table. Banking down on his desire to touch Granger, he turned to the girl he snogged on Halloween. Katie Bell.
A perfect victim. He whispered a spell, a dark and unforgivable spell and watched her eyes glaze over. This was the first time he cast the imperious curse ona human. He trained with animals he managed to catch. Now he was ready. He directed the girl to the rest room, made her take the box with the cursed necklace off the little window ledge.

“Shove it under your jacket, yes, good girl. You will give it to her back at the Gryffindor common room, a secret gift from Draco Malfoy.”

His voice purred in Katie’s mind, as she followed his orders like a puppet. Cormac waited until he heard Malfoy exit the toilet, sending Katie back out at the exact same moment.

“Hey, watch it, Malfoy!”

Katie hissed as she bumped the blonde wizards in the chest.

Cormac made a point to show himself again, casually drinking another butterbeer and chatting with some other guys who didn’t make it to the quidditch team. He made a point of being just loud enough to be annoying, to be noticed.
The Gryffindor’s left soon after. Cormac untangled himself out of the boring conversation with some lame excuses. It felt so good to be able to manipulate people as if they were dolls in his play. All he needed to do was give everyone what they wanted.

Thinking how he already won, his step back towards the castle sprang with excitement. Soon the frigid bookworm bitch would pay her first penance for humiliating him.

Lost in excitement, he did not notice Malfoy trailing his footsteps quietly. Making sure the other professors were close, Draco secretly pointed his wand at the dark haired girl from Gryffindor.

“Finite Incantatem.”

A spell broke away from his lips on a whisper.

A moment of silence passed as the group of students stopped, as the girl in question pulled a box out of her coat. Curiosity and surprise colored her cheeks as she tore at the wrapping paper. Her voice flowed through the air.

“Hermione! I almost forgot to give you this.”

Confusion laced into her voice.

“I dont quite know what it is, exactly.”

Another pause.

Katie pulled the lid of the box wide open, curiously trailing a shaky fingertip over what laid inside.

A piercing scream that was barely human sliced through the crisp air.

Severus rushed forward. The girl with dark hair hung in the air like a marionette on invisible strings. Her limbs twitched, her eyes rolled back as scream after scream tore out of her throat.

Hermione and her friends stood nearby, their eyes desperate to understand what was going on. Severus managed to get the girl down, carefully prying the cursed necklace away from her fingers.

“She needs to be sent to St. Mungo’s immediately!”

He barked out, his voice a low growl. His black hair was peppered with tiny snowflakes, as he turned to his colleagues.

“Fillius, gather everyone who had been in contact with miss Bell in the previous three hours into DADA classroom. Call for Minerva, I need her present for this.”

“Hagrid! Take Miss Bell to the hospital wing as quickly as you can. Poppy will take it from there.”

He cast another protective sphere around the cursed necklace, his frown deepening as he spoke with cold, serious tone.

“I need half an hour to examine this. It’s Miss Bells only chance for survival.”

Back at the castle, eleven students sat in the DADA classroom. McGonagall came in, her face grim. In the next hour, she managed to piece together a timeline of events before miss Bell touched the necklace.

The door all but flew off its hinges as Severus strode in, his black cape swirling after him in the cold air, making his appearance all the more menacing.

“Severus?”

Minerva’s voice almost broke at the sight of him.

“She will make it.”

A loud exhale of relief filled the room.

He turned to glare at the students.

“Miss Bell was cursed because she barely touched an object filled with dark ancestral magic. Luckily, Miss Bell is a half-blood, so the curse did not harm her as much as if she was a muggle-born.”

His eyes stopped at Hermione, and she could feel his anxiety as if it were her own.

She gathered all the power she had, all the love she felt as she looked into his eyes, and poured it through the bond. She watched his hand rub at his chest, his face softening just a fraction.

“Hermione. Stop trying to calm me. I need...I need to stay sharp.”

Even his voice in her head was a rumble of a distant thunder. Hermione’s breath caught.

Aloud, Snape’s voice rang through the morbid quiet in the classroom.

“Miss Bell will probably recover in a few weeks, providing us with memories of her version of events.”

“That will most likely help us determine who is the culprit, Severus?”

“Obviously.” Snapes reply to McGonagall was curt and to the point.

“You are dismissed. Not you, Malfoy, you stay.”

“It was him, I tell you!” McLaggen burst out, feigning outrage.
He was of course, having a riot. Granger didn’t get his present, true, but the general aftermath of the ordeal filled him with unexpected giddiness, He had caused this! And no one knew.

Draco sneered back, an image of a perfect pureblood heir in his black suit, his eyes and voice cold as ice.

“Beware the one who casts the first stone.”

“I said. Everyone. Out.” Snape bit out the words, holding Draco back with nothing more but an angle of his body.

He did not need to repeat himself.
The students scattered out of the room unnervingly fast. Ron, Harry and Ginny dragged Hermione along in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

She glanced back once, to see Severus staring at her from the distance, his face unreadable. When his voice entered her thoughts it was gentle, but troubled.

“Meet me down in the dungeons. As soon as you can manage."

Hermione made a quick work of excusing herself from the heated discussion Harry and Ron seemed to fall into. Ginny looked at her, worried.

“Its just a migraine. I am going to tuck in early.”

“But its barely even dusk.”

The boys stopped their discussion of the events just enough to protest.

“Leave her be.” Ginny told them, running her hand over Harry’s back in a calming gesture.
“This shook her more then she lets on.”

When Hermione stumbled into Severus’s private quarters, he was on her in a second. His arms wrapped around her, his hard body shielding her. His mouth found hers. The kiss was desperate, hungry. It made her want to cry and curl her toes all at once. She didn’t care that she was out of breath. All she needed was the wizard beside her. The safety of his embrace.

“You were the target, Hermione.”

Severus’s voice was a quiet growl, pain laced through every vowel.

“We were lucky Draco canceled the Imperious curse in time. I saw his memory. Miss Bell was about to give you the necklace.”

He ran a hand through his raven hair, his face screwed with frustration.

“Do you think someone knows? That it was because of us?”

“I am not sure as to why. I have my eye on McLaggen, thought. He seemed to be far to happy about the entire ordeal.”

Hermione’s stomach felt tight, she was beginning to twist herself into knots.

“Come here, love.” He beckoned her as he was about to leave the room.
“I want you close to me as I finish my brewing for the evening. I cannot stand to be without you now that someone tried to hurt you again.”

They ended up brewing far into the night, the rhythmic motions of slicing and dicing ingredients calming them both. Severus gave Hermione the freedom to choose to brew whatever she wanted, so she chose amortentia. It was one of the trickiest potions on the NEWT exams despite it being taught in the sixth year’s curriculum and it she had wanted to try it for quite some time. Severus brewed something of his own, obviously experimenting as he scowled at several books and parchment with notes. He stirred vigorously, muttering to himself.

“I think I am done here.”

Hermione said softy, coming up behind him. She snaked her arms around his narrow waist, burying her face in the space between his shoulder blades and inhaled deeply. He smelled exactly like the amortentia she brewed in her corner of the neat workspace.
Bergamot, spicy scent of herbs and salty breeze of the cliffs.
Sharp, potent and just a little biting.

She could not get enough of him, his magnetic presence.

“Ineed. Just a minute.”

Hermione peeked around to his cauldron, her academic curiosity getting the best of her. He seemed to be aiming to combine three different potions into one well balanced mix, without any ingredients contradicting each other.

“What are you working on?”

“A surprise, nosy. Lets look at your potion.”

“I suppose I got it right. It smells just like you.”

That made him pause and smirk at her.

“Never thought I’d be someone’s amortentia. Being someones boggart seemed more likely.”

“You know? About Neville?” Hermione let an astonished peel of laughter escape her.

“Yes, in fact Lupin was so bloody amused about it he got the whole staff room raging with laughter by the time I’ve heard.”

He perused her cauldron with the same sharp stare she was used to see on his face when in the potions classroom. It made her feel a little nostalgic.

“The color is of course, exactly as it should be. The smell however…”
He trailed off. Severus turned to her quickly, surprising Hermione by burying his nose into the juncture of her shoulder and her neck.

“Perfect. Obviously.”

His voice was soft, only above a whisper. He took his time, kissing her. Each touch a testament to the way he felt.

“You’re perfect.”

He murmured against her lips, their faces cracking into little smiles of reverence.

“Lets call it a day, shall we?” Severus was already leading her out of the laboratory, obviously ready to distract her with another one of their heated research debates.

“I found that article I told you about. The one on combining the art of Transfiguration with Herbology in terms of preservation practice?”

It was the last day before Harry and Ron would leave, like most of other students for Christmas holidays. Hermione was having a hard time holding things back from her friends, now that they have gotten closer again.
She – Hermione Jean Granger – was getting married.
In a matter of days.

She looked at the pair of them from a distance. The gangly redhead bean pole and the messy black haired menace. In this tiny sliver of time, they were just a couple of teenage boys. With girlfriends and holiday plans. And Hermione felt happy that for once, maybe, they were allowed to be just that – her favorite pair of clueless dunderheads. So she hugged them and bid them farewell and shed a tear or two in secret.

Marching back inside the castle, Hermione hummed a wistful tune, preparing her luggage for her own departure. Once finished, she stepped to the thick glass of her bedroom window, taking a minute to simply observe the Scottish landscape, wondering how it came to be that a Londoner like her found her place so far up North.

As the snowflakes blew by and the castle groaned with in silent winter afternoon, Hermione knew deep in her bones this tower was no longer her home. Instead, it will always represent a place in between, a place of self-discovery.
Now, a new path awaited.

And she would not embark on it alone.

The home she was about to build, would be permanent. The man by her side, her other half.
No, Hermione thought, she would not return the same.

Chapter Text

Severus stood at the window of the Cliffside cottage. In his hands, he held a box of new wizarding robes, decorated with delicate, tasteful embroidery. He could not stop touching the intricate pattern of little leaves. He never before owned a piece of clothing of such quality. He never saw a need for buying better or different clothes once he came into Prince inheritance.
He should find a way to thank Violet.

She thought of an aspect of this wedding for him, when he himself had no interest of dressing in any other fashion then his regular black dress robes.
Draco came into the room, looking like a true pure blood, all sleek and sophisticated in his own black ensemble, a matching set of a paisley tie and pocket square, a cane with a silver dragon head on the top of it.
Severus had to resist the urge to sneer at the boy. He was helping out, after all.
“Everything is ready Sir. The bluebell flames in jars, the fairy lights, the arch of ivy and wisteria...”
Dracos eyes roamed from the dark wizards half naked form, to the box and back.
“I see Violet made sure I don’t have to transfigure your clothes.” he commented sardonically. It was easier for the blonde boy to cover his own jitters with sarcasm and pureblood manners.
“Trust you to revert to acting like Lucius on my wedding day.” Severus gruffed out.
“Well, I suppose I could do worse. I could act like Potter. Then you would positively loathe me.”

Severus could not help but chuckle at the image. He ran a hand through his freshly washed hair, glancing at the clock.
“Smartass. Why is the dial standing still? We have been talking for at least a few bloody minutes!”
Grunting, Severus pulled the shirt out of the box and began dressing up.
Draco stood by, not really sure what to do with himself. He had just finished replacing all the white candles that were initially scattered all over the garden with a sea of glass mason jars, filled with bluebell flames. It was his best idea yet, regarding how he and Severus laughed over the story of Hermione setting his robes on fire in their first year.
To make sure all the bloody candles didn’t go to waste, Draco ran with his crazy idea of surprising the couple by decorating their bedroom in secret. Now, all the excess decorations were in their new place, carefully organized to look more deliberate. Posy was in the kitchen, busily making enough food to feed the entire Hogwarts, Dobby keeping her company and doing his best to follow her sharp directions. Draco realized his Godfather was having a raging case of nerves mixed up with anticipation.
Thinking back, Draco asked himself when was the last time he felt this way? Probably before his first quidditch match in the second year. Oh yeah. That was bad. He got so agitated he almost threw up when they announced the match was about to start.
He really should at least try to calm the groom. Right? His life was already in danger, anyway.
“There is just an hour left before people start arriving. It will pass quicker than you can imagine.”
“That is an hour and half before she arrives! Fucking ninety minutes! Bloody Baron's Bollocks!”
Malfoy lifted his pale eyebrows at the seething man beside him.
“Well it is a good thing you are marrying her, then. You will hardly be able to get any peace from her after today.”
Shaking his head, he dared to let out a little chuckle at Snape’s pointed stare.
“If a year ago someone told me Granger and you would be getting married in secret? And have me of all people for your witness? Mental. Janus Thickney ward kind of mental.” He paused, to gauge his audience which consisted of dumbfounded Severus and an indifferent Crookshanks.
“I just can't wait to marry her.” Snape said reverently, like he doesn't half believe it himself.

“I am getting married today. Me! I. Am. Getting. Married.”
“Careful now, Sir. You are starting to make me want to check if you are not somehow a Longbottom in polyjuice.”
“Don't make me hex you, Malfoy. Then I’ll need another best man and that would really ruin my day.”
“Suppose than you would actually have to fetch Potter. Feed his savior complex.”
After a moment of silent dramatics that inhabited the very nature of both men, they broke out chuckling.
“You know what, Malfoy? I think we should turn this around. Get ourselves into the mood.”

Draco watched dumbfounded, as Severus cast a spell to make music float through the room. It was something old and definitely muggle.
Severus bobbed his head to the beat, obviously fond of the song.
»Pour us a drink now will you? The cabinet to your right.«
Looking around, Draco managed to locate it and poured them a hefty dose of Ogden’s finest. Their glasses clinked and not for the first time, Draco wondered who was Severus Snape? The man in front of him seemed light years away from the greasy dungeon bat, or the formidable Death Eater.

Severus got dressed and checked for the last time, if everything was in order. There was no more frantic running around, no more useless fumbling. Rock steady, he donned his new cloak and winked at Draco.

“Let’s do this.”

Precisely at the sound of the great grandfather's clock in the living room, the hearth had burst to life with green flames. First came Dumbledore and McGonagall.
“Severus, my boy!”
Dumbledore strode toward the dark man enthusiastically.
“Don't you look dashing. You must give me the name of your new tailor.”
The sheer outrage of someone calling Snape “a boy” made Draco wince. But the wizard was obviously in good spirits, only frowning at the words in question.
“And good to see you too, Draco.”
Both Dumbledore and McGonagall smiled benevolently. Draco offered to take them outside, and as his mother instilled in him, playing host to the pair with utmost grace.
Severus was left alone in the living room for a moment. Truthfully, he still felt overwhelmed. The thought of having people over at their home filled him with so many warring emotions.
Joy. Freedom. Guilt. Pride. Fear.

There were so many things that could go wrong.
Even as a child, Severus was never allowed to have Lilly over for a visit. Growing up, he learned to expect that when something made him feel happy or excited, bad things would surely follow.
With years of practice, he managed to gain some control of the possible outcomes to each situation. He gained the strength and the skill to live through almost anything. Anything hard.
This? Getting married to Hermione?
This was easy.

He wanted it so badly he could hardly breathe. They spent the last day and a half apart, giving Hermione a chance to part from her parents and her childhood home. Any minute now, she would walk out of that fireplace and become his wife.

Unless someone stopped them. Unless someone objected. Unless her parents decided to oppose their marriage at the last minute. Unless the Aurors would show up on their doorstep, accusing him of god knows what. Unless Voldemort appeared out of thin air and killed them all.
Unless…
His mind wandered off in the realm of unlikely yet frustratingly possible situations.
Unless…
Unless…
Severus took a deep, calming breath.
Unless, everything would be fine and they would happily embark on a new chapter of their lives as one.
Trying no to scowl at the grandfather's clock, Severus sighed deeply.
He really hated waiting.

Marching out into the gardens, Severus over viewed the scenery with his sharp eye. He was once again surprised by Draco’s ability to create beauty in the most unlikely places. The boy clearly had the soul of an artist. Severus hoped to Merlin and Morgana the weight of war and aristocracy would not crush that.

The wide garden beds were laid to rest under a blanket of fresh snow. The sun glinted off the clear path in gray stone slates that snaked between them.
Severus walked the path littered with jars of bluebell flames. He knew every bush, every leaf or vine in this garden. It was the only thing he himself invested in the house so far, before building Hermione her library. This was his own private botanical garden.

He approached the clearing at the end of it, a wide half circle placed under the arch of ivy as tall as the house. There were fairy lights glinting off of every vine, casting golden rays of light around the scenery. The floor was littered with ornate glass jars, filled with bluebell flames. The calm ocean behind the cliffs served as a magnificent backdrop to this utterly romantic setting.
Dumbledore and Minerva already occupied two of the wooden chairs, put out to accommodate their guests. A party of seven. Nine, if one counted him and Hermione as well. Severus placed himself at the spot under the arch that would serve as their altar. He thought, though he was no arithmancer by any means, having not only one, but two of such numbers at their wedding, must have been a good sign.

Inside, the grandfather's clock struck again. Fifteen minutes past the full hour, the hearth roared green once more.

First, there were the Grangers, escorted by Draco to their seats outside in the garden. Draco bowed his head in a gentlemanly fashion, as they exchanged polite regards before he strode back inside.
Another couple of muggles awaited him by the fireplace, looking just a little disoriented. The woman wore a stunning velvet dress of midnight blue that changed to the deepest shade of purple around the edges. Her curvy figure moved with a feline grace, while the man beside her simply held her hand. He did not let go, Draco noticed, as he himself greeted the couple. He knew of course, this was Violet and her husband Ezra. But having an idea of someone, and actually meeting them were a different thing altogether.
He kept his eyes trained on the dark beauty, on the fragments of muggle tattoos peeking from the confines of her clothes. Her silver earrings and piercings glinted in the firelight. Ezra, Violet's husband, was tall and elegant. A little on the lean side like Draco. He wore a vintage looking three piece suit in dark blue to match his wife. He too, had tattoos covering the skin on his neck, his long braid of dark hair already turning to salt and pepper. The sharp line of his jaw, a roman nose and a hard mouth, his looks perfectly complemented his wife’s oriental beauty.

Draco took them to the Grangers and the two couples settled. It seemed everyone was feeling too much on edge to actually talk.
Positioning himself by the groom, Draco took a deep breath. The air was fresh and a little sharp, a raw combination of winter wind and sea water. He once more thanked the Gods they had magic to keep them warm and comfortable. It did not escape Draco's keen eye, how the muggle couples marveled at the hard beauty of the cliff side in winter.

That was when Severus straightened. Adjusted his robes. Waved his wand to cast the same odd spell he demonstrated back in his room, calling on music. An achingly sweet piano piece floated through the air. Draco wondered if the lanterns of little bluebell flames really did shine brighter. The sky was already colored with swirls of peach, crimson and gold.

A little girl of maybe seven or eight came around the corner, her pretty dress swaying with the music. Her hair was falling loose, a tumbling wave of dark chocolate down to her waist. Her dress - a floating dream in copper and amber tones, her face iridescent. She made the rainbow of flowers float in the air around her, silky petals slowly dancing in the air around her. They flew up and fell back down again. It was a moment. A sunbeam caught in her dark eyes. Draco's heart constricted.

Who was this little girl? He could see her, clear as day, now at the age of seven, and then at the age of what, seventeen or eighteen? A long dress of alabaster silk flowing around her as she walked down the aisle to her future husband with equal grace as she did now. He did not know why, but he felt the single tear well in a corner of his eye at the mere thought of her, marrying a faceless stranger.
At that moment, nothing else existed. At that moment, Draco felt his heart crack open and for some reason, a new sort of magic bloomed in him. A sort that made him realize no matter what it took, he would breathe and fight and die for the light. Yes, Draco knew now, he would die to protect the world in which this little muggle born witch could grow to smile at her own wedding day.

The girl reached the end of the stone path. Instead of going to sit next to her parents, she came up to Draco, and took her place – much to his surprise - standing beside him.
No one but Draco payed that any mind.
Because the cheerful group in front of them already held their breath in unison. On the doorstep of the house stood Hermione.

Severus turned to take in the sight of his bride.
The vision of her in her wedding gown knocked all air out of him. His chest was tight, his head spun with the force of her emotions brushing up next to his own. She was just as anxious, just as eager, just as smitten as him.

That made his spine steel with a fierce determination. He would not cower under the force of his emotions. He would take this new vulnerability as a blessing.

In that moment, Severus did what he had not done in years. He let his facade crack, his true emotions melt onto his sharp face for everyone to see.
Pride. Joy. Reverence. Love.

His mouth curved into that soft smile he only gave Hermione when they were alone. It felt liberating, to let his emotions show. He let his eyes roam over her figure, from the embroidered bodice, to her radiant face. Those smiling lips, those whiskey eyes. Once more, her bravado made her a queen-like figure, strength and wisdom crowning her presence.

The music reached its crescendo, as Hermione approached. Her long pearl white dress flowed over the stone slates on the floor, her moves a testament to elegance. Her grandmothers earrings glinted on her earlobes.
Hermione took her place beside him, standing in front of the silver haired Headmaster. The arch of green ivy towered over them, fat white candles and jars of bluebell flames scattered all around, as the ground glinted with a thin layer of snow.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, beginning the ceremony.
The music quietly vanished.

“My dearly beloved!”
His silver eyes took in the small group of people, spotting Minerva already holding back her tears of joy, and smiled.
“We gather here today to witness the ancient magic of soulmates bind these two wonderful, brilliant and exceedingly kind people, into a holy matrimony. The fates may tie their souls, their magic, but it is them who choose willingly to pursue a life of love and earnest trust.”
He waved his white wand over their hands, a golden ribbon of a spell tying it loosely around their wrists.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you would please step up and place your wand opposite of mine.”
Draco moved from his spot, as if entranced.

“Very well. Now the couple repeats after me.”

“...I take thee as my other half,

My soul a part of yours,

my heart always faithful,

my thoughts always loving,

my hands always gentle.

For you are now of

my blood and bone,

my magic and mind,

my body and soul.

And I shall belong to thee,

always.”

A golden glow erupted from the center between their hands, the ribbon of golden light snaking out and around the figures of the bride and groom. They felt the pulse of their bond swirl through them, overwhelmingly warm. Soft. Sweet.

“Mr. Malfoy, as a witness, please say your incantation to seal the ceremony.”
Draco cleared his throat and tightened his grip on his wand, pleasantly warm in his hand.
“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, bear witness to this binding of souls, and I take upon myself to warrant for the vows to be given of free and willing hearts. I bless this union with the seal of my magic. To love upon love, by you and by me, now as we will, so mote it be.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Dumbledore's sonorous voice rang across the garden, as the spell broke free of his and Draco's wand. They stepped away quietly.
“You may kiss the bride!”
The old wizard added cheerfully, remembering this from what he knew of muggle ceremonies.

Severus slid his hands around Hermione, tilting her just a little as his lips met hers.
The time stood still as they kissed, a golden halo enveloping their bodies, merging their very souls once more and even deeper. His lips were soft, curving into a little, intimate smile. With their foreheads pressed together, they waited for the pulse of their magical cores to settle.
Their albeit small audience held their breath in awe, for this was a sight so ancient, so rare and pure.
Severus straightened, his arms still heavy around Hermione.
Dumbledore piped up, his voice cracking with emotions.
“Mister and Madame Snape!”

Loud cheers erupted, as they made their way back to the house. Minerva was still wiping her own tears as she enchanted a soft mist of snowflakes to swirl around the newly weds, landing on the floor in the shape of little paper hearts.
Hermione could hear the reverent sighs of the women and the clicking of Ezra's muggle camera, but she only had eyes for her husband. His hand rested on the small of her back, pushing her inside the cottage.

Posy had outdone herself, for the dining room was slightly enlarged, the tables heavy with food. The table was covered in flowers and brass candle holders, the thick curtains of dark green in perfect harmony with cream colored tablecloth.
They did not need to invite people to fill their plates, or sit down. Somehow, as if this was a usual get together for these people, everyone found themselves seated and sated with food.

Not long after, David Granger clinked a silver fork to his wine glass as he got up for a toast.
“They say the girl's father never truly sleeps well until his little girl is settled with a good man. Tonight, I can sleep peacefully. I can rest assured my daughter is well protected, for I have never met a man more loyal and brave as Severus.
We live in a world where no one believes in soulmates any more, or in the pure magic of love freely given. As I stand here today, I see two bright, loving people bound together by fate, by magic so deep I cannot even fathom - I cheer for their bravery! For it takes a brave heart to love and be loved in these mad times. I wish the happy couple to hold on to that bravery, and may the love you share help you thread through it all - the murkiest waters, the darkest nights, the hardest battles. Let it be the compass in the times of doubt.
Jean and I used to say the love we share is magic - then we had Hermione. I wish you, Hermione and Severus, to have and make your own magic. Hear, hear!”

“Hear, hear!”
The cacophony of voices echoed back. Jean and Hermione wiped at their own tears, placing their hands around their husbands in almost mirror like fashion. Violet grinned like crazy, as she watched Ezra hide his emotions behind the full glass in his hands. Opposite him, sat the tall blonde young man, who stood as the witness.
Ivy giggled to herself. Was she the only one to notice this wizard also, like her father, rather hid his emotions behind a drink? It was as if everyone in the room had their counterpart, a mirror image.

Minerva stood up, not letting Mr. Granger to be the only one to share well wishes with a happy couple. Her stern professorial voice was softened by emotions she did not dare hide, and rang through the room.

“I do believe another toast is in order. Now usually this would be a speech made by the groom's relative. Severus, I sincerely hope you don't mind this old cat considering you as a part of my nonexistent litter. I have known you since you were just a boy of eleven, making his way through the Great Hall, as I have you, Hermione. Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine the two of you to be fated. But now that I do, I could not imagine a couple more suited to understand, respect and care for each other through rain and shine. May your loyal, brave and loving hearts carry you into a brighter tomorrow. And please remember to seek hope and help in the most unlikely places, should you ever need any. Oh, I do mean myself by that, of course!”

A joyful, innocent giggle escaped the older witch as she raised her glass and drank. The table burst into fits of laughter, glasses clinking and voices cheering to emphasize her words.

It was not long before they moved to the living room. The furniture was moved to the wall, leaving an open space on the hardwood floor in front of the ornate fireplace for dancing.
“Music, please, maestro!”
Someone told Severus. He was far too busy stealing loving glances and little chaste kisses from his wife, to be able to tell who it was.
Absentmindedly, he stepped forward, and waved his wand, refusing to let go of Hermione's hand. The music erupted from thin air. Severus took Hermione by the waist and suddenly, they were spinning. Their first dance was a waltz, their robes only enhancing the image of how well they fit together. How much they were each others opposites and in other ways, how much they were alike.
Severus bowed his head, catching Hermione’s eyes once more.
“You are mine now, little witch.”
He said to her lovingly.
“I was always, and always will be yours, my love.”
Hermione replied, her heart thudding against the hard plane of his chest.

“Not much longer now.”
He whispered against her lips, then kissed her, unabashedly. They never stopped, just slowed their swaying as their lips met in the chaste, soft kiss. The one that spoke of unsaid promises, of little cherished moments. Their dance was effortless, stealing breath to the eager audience.
Ezra’s camera went off.

Then the music changed, and other couples joined in. Jean and David laughed, their voices filled with tears of joy they held back. Dumbledore and Minerva claimed another corner as their own, their moves as precise as if they were playing chess instead of dancing. Violet and Ezra were the unhinged couple, the sensual movement of their bodies giving away the way they moved when they were alone, dressed in nothing but moonlight.
Draco found himself without a dance partner, and turned to the little girl that in his mind, stole the spotlight of the entire wedding. He bowed deeply, courtly hanging his head as he offered his hand to the girl in a grand gesture.
“May I have this dance, my lady?”
Ivy did not giggle this time. Her eyes wide and round with pure girlish wonder, she could barely whisper her consent, as Draco lifted her into his embrace and spun her around the room with an air of unequaled elegance.
Dumbledore’s eyes glinted knowingly. Minerva smiled. Jean and David gasped in unison. Violet smirked, her chest filled with motherly pride. Ezra frowned. Severus rose an eyebrow. Hermione tried to stifle a laugh.
Of course the blonde posh Slytherin prince would be properly trained in ballroom dancing. And of course, he would be the prince in shining armor to the little girl. The little muggleborn girl.

Hermione stole a glance at her husband, once again mesmerized by the change in his unguarded appearance.
It was not the robes or the festive lights. He was simply magnificent. Imposing. A tall frame and an air of authority, yet with his usual scowl gone, he looked so much younger. Softer.
“Didn’t you have your fill of me already, wife?”
He asked in a deep voice. Truth be told, he loved to feel her eyes on him, all wide and full of wonder.
“Never.”
She replied immediately, her voice just a little breathless.
Severus snaked a hand around her shoulder as he turned to quiet the music and address their guests.

“Since this night is quickly turning its dial, I must thank each and every one of you on behalf of me and my new wife, not only for all you contributed to make this day as beautiful and as memorable as possible, but also for being here for us. Cheering us on as we embark on this new journey in the vast plane of life. I find myself incredibly blessed to have Hermione become my other half, my life companion. So if I can only wish you one thing, I wish you all to feel the undying love of your souls mate. Hold on to it.
We chose our wedding to be on the night of winter solstice. I found it only fitting, for your memories of this place and event to be tied to something you can take in your hands every following Christmas.
He waved a wand, and by the fireplace, there stood a pine tree, its branches dusted with snowflakes. There were exactly seven ornaments, made from hand blown glass.

“Before you step into the fireplace as you leave, take an ornament from that tree. Your memories of today’s events will be transmitted to it, leaving a dim and fond recollection in your mind. To enhance and review the memory from your viewpoint, you need only touch it, hold it in your hand, and the memory of the wedding will come back to focus in your mind’s eye.”
Severus took in the faces of his audience, reverting to his professorial tone.
“The idea is to keep you and your loved ones safe in these unsteady times. This house is put under the modified Fidelius charm, therefore you will not be able to speak about it, or any events that you may have witnessed here, unless it is to another person now in attendance. Forgive me for urging this upon you, but it was the best way to ensure what you witnessed today remains a happy memory, instead of turning it into a dagger that might stab you when least expected.«
Severus fell silent, the dramatic pause in his long speech waking his captivated audience from the trance his sonorous voice had put them under.
“With all our love, we thank you, and bid you all good night.”
Another loud cheer erupted, Dumbledore already eyeing the glass ornaments with curious eyes.
“What an imaginative solution, Severus! Brilliant, if I do say so myself.”
“Indeed.” Severus drawled.
Hermione hugged her parents before they disappeared in the green flames of the floo powder. Violet, Ezra and Ivy were next.
Ivy's eyes were heavy with sleep, as she turned towards Draco. Their eyes met across the room for a moment. And for that moment, it seemed a world of unspoken words erupted between them.
Out loud, none of them said a word. Ivy waved shyly. Draco smiled and waved back. Then, they too, were gone.
Draco was to leave with Dumbledore and McGonagall. He managed to excuse himself from returning to his home during holidays, as it would be easier to come closer to Dumbledore when there were not many students around.

They said goodbye with some politeness, some cheerful jibberish and some last minute well wishes. Then the green flames took them, too.
The living room was suddenly big and deathly quiet. With an absent minded flick of his black wand, Severus closed the temporary floo connection.
“Porto Inscindere.”

For a few heartbeats, there was nothing but the distant sound of snow falling outside the window. A crackle of wood in the hearth.
They drowned in each other's eyes.

Then his lips met hers.

Chapter Text

This kiss was a soft, passionate promise of all the pleasure that awaited them in the silence of their first night.

Slowly, Severus gathered her into his arms and carried her upstairs, the skirt of her long dress a tangle of translucent fabric trailing behind them.

Hermione felt her heart race to the sound of his footsteps, thudding softly against the hardwood floor.
The door to their bedroom closed with a soft click.
For a moment they just stood there, taking in the sight of what appeared to be a thousand different candles scattered along the room. There were white and pale pink rose petals floating around the room, Hermione's long forgotten wedding bouquet in a pretty clay vase on the chest drawer.

“Oh, Severus! It's so beautiful.”

Rather than admitting he did not come up with this particular scene, Severus silently thanked Draco for his artistic input and deflected swiftly.

“You are beautiful, Hermione Snape.”

He laid her down on the soft sheets, kissing her gently.

“When I saw you walking down that stone path in your wedding dress, it felt as if every single one of my wishes came true all at once. You nearly knocked me flat today, love.”

His mouth began to nibble on her bottom lip, letting her know he will feast on her flesh tonight.

“Will you be mine tonight, Hermione?”

He asked, his emotional dark eyes once again drawing her in.

“Yes, my dear Husband.”
She replied softly, before pulling his head down for a kiss that was much deeper, hungrier. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting him, inviting.

Severus reached behind to undo the small buttons on the back of her dress. There were so many of them.

“Already copying my numerous buttons?” He smirked playfully, moving away just an inch.

“I love your little black buttons.”

“And here I thought you married me for me.”

Hermione laughed, batting at his shoulder playfully. Severus took her arm and pulled her up to stand. She had not noticed until then - he was long done with unbuttoning her.
The dress slipped off her shoulders to pool around her ankles. Severus took a step back, his eyes filled with hunger, with unguarded passion that burned inside of him.

He knelt in front of her, pressing his face to the soft skin of her belly, breathing in her fresh flowery scent.
Jasmine, rosemary and rose water.
Hermione threaded her hands into his raven hair, pressing against him.

“I think we waited quite long enough, haven’t we?”

In anwser, he caught the front of her brassiere with his teeth, tugging it down. Her breasts sprung free. Severus licked one rosy tip fixing his dark, mischievous gaze upon her face.

“Don't worry, love, I always keep my promises.”

A brief smirk passed his lips, as he quirked one eyebrow up.

“And I do intend to be … thorough.”

A pleasant shiver ran down her spine, causing Hermione to wince.

“...and slow.”

Heat rushed between her legs.

“Meticulous…”

His low, sensuous voice caressed her like a feather, tips of his calloused fingers slowly running up the inside of her thigh.

“Insistent…”

“Severus!”
Hermione whined breathlessly. The man barely touched her and she already felt like a quivering mess.

He sucked in the previously neglected nipple, just the way she liked it best. A hint of teeth pressed against her silky flesh. His dexterous fingers removed her underwear, leaving her in nothing but her sheer sheer stay-up stockings and a pair of pearl earrings.

Severus pushed her back on the bed, so she fell on the crisp bedspread littered with fragrant petals.

“Look at how...exquisite you are.”
He kissed her navel, gently drawing little circles on her skin with just a tip of his tongue.

“And now you are all mine. Forever...just…mine.”

In a possessive gesture, his hands slid to her hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed. Hermione could only watch as he knelt between her legs, getting rid of his cravat and flicking open a few buttons on his shirt. There was something so inexplicably erotic about the fact that she laid there, bare and spread open beneath him.
His virgin. His feast. His offering.

Her breath hitched as Severus leaned over her. His scent was so strong and intoxicating. She wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in it and not let go until it was steeped in her bones.

Severus lowered his head to her dripping center.
He was going to…mmm.

Only the tip of his tongue touched her sensitive little bud, the lack of pressure making her squirm. She felt the urge to grab his hair and grind against his mouth, barely stopping herself from doing so.

Instead, she let her legs fall even wider in invitation.

Then he kissed her folds, as if he was kissing her mouth. Deeply, passionately. Tongue darting out, licking and swirling, his mouth demanding her pleasure. He paused for a second, teeth gently grazing over her.

“Mine.” he whispered in a voice so low it was barely audible.
His mouth were having a quiet conference with her skin and with the way his mouth whispered to make her muscles clench, already so desperate to be filled, Hermione found herself stunned by a spell that had nothing to do with magic.

Then he sucked at her clit, the rhythmic motions almost sent her over the edge, but it seemed all at once – too little and too much.

“Please. Please, I am so close. I need…”

This time, he did not hold back. When he pushed one of his long fingers inside her, he dug deeper. Licked it as he pulled his hand away, making Hermiones eyes go wide at the spectacle. On his next move, he added another one, focused on making the stretch as gradual as possible. Lapping at her sex like a man starved, Severus set out to render his little witch incoherent.

Hermione rocked her hips instinctively, blindly chasing her pleasure.

She felt her clit get even more sensitive then she imagined possible, and the swipes of his tongue sliding over it became too much. The threads of fire coiled up, then sprang free. On a long moan, Hermione's hips twitched, her lungs filled with air on one sharp intake, her toes curled. It was the sweetest, softest orgasm she had yet experienced. No less intense, but somehow different.

Still dazed, she reached out with her hand.

“Accio vial.”

She called out, breathless.
She could feel the fabric she sat on damp from her own arousal.

“Accio potion.”

Called out Severus as the exact same time.

They caught both simultaneously and laughed.

“I want you to take -”

“I want you to take -”

They both said in unison, albeit the intonation being different.

They stopped mid sentence and laughed again. Hermione curled her legs around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Ladies first.”

He smirked. Hermione wondered if she had ever before seen her husband at ease.

“I want you to collect my virgin blood during our first…lovemaking, should there be any.”

Hermione blushed at her last words, trying not to feel so utterly inexperienced all of a sudden.

Severus stared deep into her eyes before he kissed her mouth, oh so gently. It was all his gratitude, for being seen, for being understood, for being accepted. She was his soulmate, but the gift of this unique potion ingredient was still hers to be given freely.

“I want you to take this potion.”
Severus knew it was his turn to gift her.
“I managed to brew a three-phase mix of mild pain potion, a strong contraceptive potion and just a touch of aphrodisiac.”

It was his turn to blush and look a bit bashful.

“I want our first time to be a painless and enjoyable experience, for both of us.”

Hermione stroked his hair, as his face hovered just above hers, his body pressing down on her just right.

“Thank you, Husband.”
She said softly, then slipping the vial from his hand, pouring its contents down her throat in one go. Licking her lips, she realized it tasted almost like strawberry champagne. Of course, one of the greatest Potion masters in all Europe would not make a new concoction taste bad. A flicker of mischief glinted in her whiskey eyes as she cast the empty vessel away.

“I think you are far overdressed for the occasion, Severus.”

She smiled winningly, and slid her fingers over his buttons at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Divesto.”

She whispered wantonly.

In an instant, the warm skin marred with silver scars brushed against her own. Hermione let out a moan.
Severus let out a growl.

The rock hard evidence of his desire rested heavy against her belly.

Hermione pressed her hips against him, once again growing restless.

“Please, Husband, make me yours.”

Her voice soft and low snapped the last semblance of Severus’s self control.

He pushed Hermione further up the bed, crawling over her like a hungry predator.
“Gods, woman...you were made for me and me alone, weren’t you?”

His fingers spread her open, running his big cock up and down her dewy entrance. She was soaking wet. From her first orgasm, from the potion, from anticipation…he did not care.

Finally, he let the tip of his cock slide inside her hot sheath, and pushed forward. Slowly, he increased the pressure, grinding his teeth.

“Fuck!” He hissed.
“Ugh, love, you feel soooo…fucking…perfect.”

Hermione laid still, resisting the urge to rock her hips against him.

The impossible sense of fullness washed over her as he slowly slid through the tightness of her maidenhood, bottoming out inside her. Another ribbon of golden light shimmered in the air, slowly tangling around their bare limbs as they breathed heavily.
When Severus pulled out, using his wand to quickly transfer the small trickle of blood into the vial his wife previously offered, Hermione whined at the loss of him. With another spell, he healed little wounds from her wet sex, before driving himself back in. This time, there was less resistance and her body accepted him eagerly.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” he hissed through his gritted teeth.
“Aah...I feel so...ugh...full…” Hermione had troubles forming words because the sensation of being stretched around him was simply too much.
Severus began to move in earnest, setting a lazy pace with his rolling hips, making sure his little witch hissed and moaned and writhed beneath him. He slid his hand around her calf, pulling her leg further up. She was pliant in his hands, letting him adjust their bodies so he could go even deeper. Hermione’s hands roamed the planes of his muscular back, enjoying the weight of him as he moved inside her.
“Mine, little witch, you’re mine now. Oh fuck, you’re golden..”
He crashed his lips to hers, kissing her breathless. Severus wanted to overwhelm her. Overwhelm them both.
He wanted to stay exactly like this until they forgot where one of them ended and the other began. He reached around her head, his fingers tangling in the strands of her curls that spread over the pillow like a halo. Hermione tilted her head back, gasping for air, the fire scorching through her body. She felt so full, so blessedly stretched by him. His tongue was dancing with hers and it sent pleasant shivers down her body.
She could not breathe. She could not think. She could only let the wild emotions erupt and crash over her like a tidal wave.
Severus felt her inner walls begin to tighten even further, her entire body coiling in that sweetest tension. He nipped at her jaw, her neck, as he pulled as far away as possible without slipping out. Then, he slammed in with one magnificent, precise stroke and felt her fall apart under him.
“Yes, yes that’s it! Come for me…come on my cock...you...little...minx.”
Feeling the tell-tale tingle run down his spine, he kept that same motion for another three strokes, muttering.
“Good girl!” He growled near her ear.
“M-milking my cock so...oh, oh fuuuuck!”
He let the way she clutched around him at his praise pull him over the edge. The force of it knocked all air out of him. Severus felt his entire being shutter as he spilled himself inside her, feeling like the spasms of his orgasm will never cease. The echo of his growl vibrated through the room, mixed with the symphony of Hermione’s little moans.

Hermiones hips bucked with aftershocks. She tangled her limbs around his body like a vine, refusing to let go. Instead, she pulled his head down for another lazy, sated kiss.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” she whispered against his lips, every time they parted for air.
His black hair was slipping through her fingers, falling over his face, tickling her. She giggled. Her eyes prickled with tears of joy.
He smiled widely, his face a manly display of pure satisfaction.
Somehow, he managed to slowly roll on his back, pulling her along.
His thick cock was growing soft inside her, and Hermione felt the mess of his come and her slick trickle down between her thighs, but she did not mind. She simply curled into him, her arms and legs still gripping him tightly. Her freckled nose bumped his collar bone, as she peppered his neck with soft little kisses. Making sure he did not slide out, she relaxed against him, sighing contently. His hands were growing heavy, resting on her back. Protective and possessive, his fingers tangled in her curls as he slowly slid into a pleasant nap. Lulled by his slow, deep breaths, Hermione too, drifted to sleep.

Their next bout of lovemaking came about an hour later as they woke all hot and bothered. His magnificent cock never slipped out, it seemed, growing hard and heavy inside her once more. They did not know who woke first, who moved first. Dizzy with pleasure, Hermione moved above him, rolling her hips in a sensuous rhythm. With each thrust of his hips upwards, she took him deeper, slowly gaining the confidence to surge up and slam down in time with his motions. They held each others eyes this time, as Hermione knotted her fingers through his, gripping his hands for support. Sweat gathered between her shoulder blades. They took their time now, relishing in the pleasure of their connected bodies. Severus did not know if it was minutes or hours before she began to tremble in his arms, her movements more and more erratic.
“That’s it love, ride me.”
He let go of her hands, instead grabbing a handful of her backside, pulling her apart, keeping her still as he began to thrust up with more force, more speed. Taking advantage of her need for praise, Severus used his raspy voice so tease her.
“Such a...good...girl...yes, that’s it. Ride my cock, witch!”
Suddenly, she was pulsing around him again. Hermione wailed incoherently as she threw her head back, her mane of honey curls tickling his balls as she arched back in pure ecstasy.
But Severus was not done with her yet. His fingers gripped her jaw possessively as he pulled her down for a scorching kiss, biting her lower lip hungrily. He never stopped thrusting, just kept her above him, one hand still on her arse, the other now grabbing the expanse of her hair like a rope. He licked and bit Hermione’s neck, muttering obscenities against her throat as he felt them both tiptoe around the next precipice. It took only a few more thrusts before they exploded in unison.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” she muttered breathlessly, while he sucked a lovebite on the slim column of her neck, the rhythm of his mouth synchronised with his thrusts and with the way he pinched her nipples as he began pulsing inside her, filling her up once again.
He wanted to mark every inch of Hermione’s alabaster skin, staking his claim.

It took them a while to settle their racing hearts.
Hermione grunted.
“What is it?” he drawled lazily.
“I need to pee. But I don’t want to get off of you just yet.”
He chuckled darkly. She was so sweet sometimes, this wife of his.
“Go, I am not going anywhere.” He kissed her shoulder.
“I promise to keep the bed warm for you.”
Obviously reluctant, she rolled off and padded quietly through the room to their adjoined master bathroom, his seed dripping down her thighs. Severus stretched on the bed, spelling away some of the mess they made.
Gods, she was a sight with her feline moves, was all he could think when she reappeared, not even a little shy in her nude form. Her breasts swayed with every step, enchanting him.
He would have so much fun making her squirm in pleasure again in the morning, he thought. Hermione leaped into bed, pressing her cold feet to his, snuggling into his side. Severus noticed her silence, the sleep already clinging to her eyelashes. He tucked the duvet around them both, and rested his cheek on the top of her soft curls.
“Sleep now, my love. Sleep well. For you are mine. And you are loved. So, so loved.”

His deep voice was barely a whisper, and her eyes were already closed.

But Hermione felt his words just as much as she heard them.
They were pressed into her skin, with each touch, with each caress of his long pale fingers.

Love, she thought, before her dreams took her. Love was everything this world ever needed.

The following morning greeted them with a thick blanket of snow, and the utter silence that came with it. The room was freezing cold, but Severus was nothing if not a practical wizard. With his eyes half open, he reached out to the bed stand, flicking his wand to warm the room with a few charms, reigniting the flames in the hearth. Hermione slept deeply, her entire body still tangled with his. He remained still for another minute or two, simply relishing in the closeness of her. The feel of her warm skin against his. Her slow, steady breaths. The smell of her messy hair.
His wife.
Fucking finally.

Smiling to himself, Severus rose from the bed, careful not to wake her. Relieving his bladder, he thought about going down to fetch some breakfast. Posy was spending a few days hopping around to visit with the other elves. She was happy to let the young couple have a few days alone. Severus did not know much about elvish relations, but from what he understood, she was close with Hogwarts elves and another few, scattered around other Prince properties.

Severus instantly felt the tension of worry creep up his shoulders, stiffening his posture. What if the little elf slipped?
No. No, she wouldnt. But what about Dobby? He was a free elf, and an unpredictable one at that.
Severus forced the fears back down, breathing deeply as he marched through the empty house, barefoot and naked as on the day he was born. Determination was his first tool in overcoming his psychological challenges. And Severus was nothing if not determined not to let anything ruin their first morning as a married couple. He calmed himself with the precision of brewing a large pot of tea, slicing apples and oranges, scrambling eggs and so forth.

Hermione woke to the sound of Severuses deep velvety voice humming an old song, Little wing from Jimmy Hendrix, if her memory served her right, the melody sweet and nostalgic. She opened her eyes just in time to see her nude husband return to the room, a floating tray of steaming breakfast at his side.
Gods she could get used to such mornings, was all she was able to think before he crawled into bed next to her, smothering her in sweet, enthusiastic kisses.
“Good morning, Mrs. Snape.” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Good morning, Mr. Snape.” she greeted back, the sheer outrage of their married titles vibrating through her mind.
“And what a glorious morning this is.”
“Oh really?” He quirked an eyebrow up, pulling away to fill their plates with food.
“It is not every day your naked husband treats you to a breakfast in bed.” she replied, her giddiness radiating from every word.
“Then I must make sure to do it as often as possible.” he said, pretending to be serious.
“Oh, you!” she kissed his cheek. He just laughed, stealing a bite of her apple. Then stealing another kiss from her lips, now hot from their Earl Gray with just a splash of milk.
They ate, laughing and stealing innocent kisses as if they had not just sealed their bond to keep them together for the rest of eternity.
When he, once more, leaned in to kiss off the breadcrumbs from the corner of her mouth, Hermione giggled.
“Mmm, so good.” he said, his voice pitched impossibly low.
Heat surged inside her belly.
“Still hungry?” she asked, her voice playful.
“Oh yes, sweet witch. I have a terrible hunger for you. I must…sate it. Immediately.” He spelled the crumbs and the rest of their breakfast clatter off of the bed, as he pushed her down onto the pillows.
His muscular, naked body hovered above her almost threateningly. But it was not fear that clutched at Hermione's belly. No, it was want. Pure and undiluted want for this man.
“I thought you might have been sated last night.” she probed, not really knowing why.
“I will never be sated, not when I can have you.” He leaned forward on his elbows, his muscles flexing slightly. He breathed her in, deeply.
“Remember what I promised, little witch. I will have you again and again, now that you are finally in my bed. Then on every other surface of this house we might want to submit to our…carnal explorations.”

With that said, he went about setting her body on fire once more. He wanted her to melt into a puddle beneath him before he plunged inside the hot mess between her legs. Diligent as a true Potions master, Severus caressed her body with gentle touches, scattering little love bites over her neck, her inner thigh, the arch of her hip already marked from his prickly unshaved face. He feasted on her breasts as his fingers pushed inside her, softly stroking at those sweet tender spots.
“Severus! Oh, fuck, Sev…” she trailed off once more, breathless, so close to the precipice of her release.
Changing his mind, he shifted his weight slightly, pushing his cock inside her with one long, hard thrust. He felt her walls begin to clench so he kept his fingers pressed on her clit.

He chuckled darkly.She was. Oh. So. Close.
He didn't move, just swiped a thumb over her little nub.
“Say you are mine.”
Hermione whined, pinned to the bed by his weight.
“Say it.” he bit out the command, knowing full well she liked it.
“I…” another press of his thumb, “...am…ugh, fuck.”
He leaned in, his cock digging even deeper, pressing on her cervix. Hard.
“Yours.” she whispered, and his thumb moved again.
She felt impossibly tight. Hot. She couldn't breathe.
“Imyours.” she mumbled, anxious for him to just move. Or...something.
“Louder.” he commanded, the aura of his years as the strict professor wrapping around him, his face determined, as he pleasured her.
“I. AM . YOURS!” Hermione bit out the words on high pitched screams.
He thrusted once more, and she came, a small flood of her juices trickling out of her. Severus thrusted again, makinge her come even harder, screaming his name.
“Sev..Severus. SEVERUS!”
He smirked, a dark satisfaction settling into his eyes, his crooked smile.
“Good girl.”

This time, he lost himself in her body, all slick and wonderfully sweaty from effort to please. To be pleased. His thrusts were hard, fast, frantic.
He backed off, raising on his knees, his hands holding her bum up so he could keep thrusting into her. Her spine arched, her hands twisting the sheets. He had no worry over whether or not she enjoyed the new position. He just kept thrusting, rocking deep into her scorching center. Pure fire roared in his veins.
“Come. Hermione. Fuck. Please. I need to … feel you… milk my-my cock!”
Hermione whined, feeling so full, so overwhelmed. She could not move, so she tried the second best thing. She squeezed the muscles in her pelvis, trying to cling to his steely shaft. Hermione felt him become impossibly hard. It was her time to smirk. Oh he liked that, didn't he?
It was the cracks in his expression, seeing him unable to hold back as he felt the first twinges of his own orgasm tug at his balls, that undid her.
“Her-Hermione-oh-fuck!”
It was him that looked almost desperate now. His cheeks flushed as his cock pulsed inside her. The image of his seed filling her up made Hermione come undone right along with him.
“Mmmph.”
“Ohyesyesyes.”
“Gods.”
Their bodies shivered as they came down from their high.
“Was that too much?” Severus asked, cuddling up to her, once more reluctant to slip out.
“No.” Hermione replied in earnest, letting her sated grin chase away any shadow of worries from his mind, as she pulled him closer.
“Thank Merlin.”

The grandfather's clock in the living room chimed a quarter past five o'clock in the afternoon when they finally managed to venture downstairs. Severus was of bare feet, a pair of well worn black jeans low on his hips essentially the only thing covering him.

Hermione slipped her hands in the pockets of an old, cream colored wool cardigan her mother gifted her two years prior. She had tugged on a comfortable pair of ribbed cotton slacks and a long sleeved t-shirt with lace trimmings. She wanted to feel cozy and feminine, this special day. Her wand tucked in her messy bun of curls. She sat at the kitchen island, watching her husband raid the cabinets for food. She joined in at the slicing and dicing the vegetables, watching him cook in the same fashion as he brewed - meticulously, every slice and stir a form of art. Not long after, the kitchen smelled of fresh soup, a big pot of chicken meat with pasta, sun dried tomatoes, basil and ricotta for later. They made enough for two days, since all food was able to be reheated, and they still had some leftovers from the wedding placed under stasis charms. Hermione went about setting plates, as Severus cleaned the kitchen with a few well aimed charms.

Then, he heard Hermione squeal in delight. He strode to the living room, to find his wife gaping at the pile of presents under the Christmas tree.

“I can't believe I forgot it was Christmas.”
She had the bloody cheek to wink at him, insinuating his explorations thoroughly distracting her busy mind.

“Did you do this?”

“No. This has Posy written all over it. She must have collected our Christmas gifts and wedding presents, piled them all here. A sort of ‘merry Christmas’ surprise.

Hermione smiled brightly, turning back to the dining room.

“Alright. We will open them after dinner. Make a proper Christmas thing out of it.”

“I never truly celebrated Christmas before.” He admitted quietly.

“Never had a reason to.”

Hermione slipped her hands around his waist, as he lit the candles on the table, and raised on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Just another thing I intend to turn around.” She left to fetch their meal from the kitchen, already at home.

The conversation flowed freely, mostly centered around the way he made those charmed ornaments for their wedding guests.

Later, when they sat under their Christmas tree, the fire crackling in the stone hearth, Hermione transfigured all the wrapping paper of their wedding gifts into elegant ornaments. She shaped some as stars, the others as little spheres. Severus sat on the floor beside her, opening another one. Hermione insisted he’d be the one to open all of them, since he had before received so little.

They have already received a muggle camera, and an empty photo album to fill with memories. Certainly a gift from Violet's family. A pair of ornate two way notebooks from Draco. A set of crystal champagne glasses, engraved with their initials from her parents. A large box of muggle and wizarding sweets from Dumbledore. A bottle of Ogden's finest firewhiskey from Minerva. Now, there was a large stack of books on all sorts of magical topics, from charms and potions to alchemy and soulmatism.

Hermione gave Severus a new, small silver cauldron, knowing full well he only had an old one that came from second hand. She did not expect him to gift her something in return. Bur he did. He looked almost boyish, as she put on the silver pendant on a matching chain, tracing her fingers reverently over its beautiful ornate edges. It had an oval shape, but it was left empty in the middle. Severus said he wanted her to fill it with something she wished to hold close to her heart. Hermione accioed her wedding bouquet from upstairs, turned and began casting charms on the flowers. One spell to dry them. One to press them flat. One spell to shrink them to proper size. And the last to encase them into the pendant. Severus kissed her breathless, showing rather than saying how he felt about it.

He then tore open the last package, that was obviously another book. And stared at the cover, dumbfounded. Hermione peeked over his shoulder and laughed. The title read Kamasutra: the art of lovemaking.
Severus choked.
Hermione laughed.

“Who…?” He still could not tear his eyes away from the front page, where two nude bodies tangled in a complex pose.

“Violet.” Hermione kept laughing.

“I really must thank your Godmother now. First my wedding gown, now this?”

He flipped through the pages, muttering into what almost resembled a short beard, tilting his head while studying the sketches.

“We could try this.” He pointed to a couple, where the man was thrusting from above, while the woman had her legs apart, knees at her ears.

“I know you are flexible enough.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, his smirk obviously challenging.

“We should. You know, for academic purposes. A thorough research…”

Before she managed to wax on, his mouth was on hers, their hands tearing at their clothes, forgetting they are, in fact, magical.

It was much later when they laid on the carpet in front of the fireplace with their chest heaving and limbs tangled, that they remembered to spell their mess away.

Some time later, Severus carried his sleeping wife upstairs and spooned behind her on their big black fourposter.

Their next few days were a mix of sleeping, having all kinds of sex and the quiet, precious moments in between. They were insatiable. There was no pattern to how they ended up having sex. Most of the time, one could not tell who initiated it. Severus and Hermione could not stop touching. Even in the small moments in front of the fireplace, their knees bumped. Their hands caressed. Their fingers brushed.

The sparks flew and soon, they were tearing at their clothes, desperate for their bodies to be joined once again. He would push into her, fast and precise, either with his cock or his fingers or his tongue. Drive her half-mad on the way to completion.

Severus cooked, while Hermione assisted. He would spin her around the kitchen, just like he once dreamed he could. He told her that while they swayed to some blues and the air smelled of mushroom and grated cheese risotto.

Hermione would read outrageous articles from both muggle and wizarding science publications, as they curled up on the sofa, sending Severus into fits of laughter with her snippy commentary. They would walk on the cliffs or drive into the village on his motorcycle, holding hands and telling each other little stories from their life.

It was on the snow covered beach that Severus told Hermione the full story of his childhood - about his friendship with Lilly, about his complicated relationship with Frank. It was in the middle of the night, after another round of wild sex, when he held her pinned down to the bed exactly like he wanted, that he told Hermione every dark deed ever done in his life. So they talked about his father. About Voldemort. The Death Eaters.
That night, Severus cried himself to sleep in the safe embrace of her arms, her fingers gently tracing the silver skin of his scars.

He was a warrior, her Husband. But Hermione knew now, just how much he too, was first and foremost - the victim.

Next morning, Severus woke Hermione with his nimble fingers, their love making slow and sensuous. They had all kinds of sex in these past few days. Hot and rough with her back against the wall, slow and torturous as he took her from behind in the shower. Passionate on the kitchen counter, so caught up Severus almost burned their dinner. Playful at the dining table, where he spread her naked and feasted on her body, making her count out loud just how many times he had made her come before finally letting her push him back on the chair, riding his cock fiercely until they both came undone, gasping and muttering obscenities.

It was so liberating, to feel as if there was not a single barrier left between them. That Friday morning, it was two days before the end of the old year. Hermione once more paused at the door right next to theirs, and pulled him in. She showed him how it looked in her mind's eye. A nursery for their babies, when the war was done and they were free to have children without living in fear. How she believed he would be the best father ever.

Severus showed her how the image of her being pregnant with his child was one of the first thoughts that crossed his mind when the bond ignited all those months before. How every time he came inside her, he imagined the seed taking root.

He clutched at her belly now, pulling her shirt up and pressing soft kisses over her lower abdomen. That part of her body was always so soft and changed so much, he noticed. Depending on what she ate or how much she ate, what day of her cycle it was. It always seemed to arch out a bit, after they had sex. Severus loved knowing these little things about her body.

They didn't make love then and there, on the dusty floor of the nursery. No, that came later. But the way Severus touched her body when they did, showed that was just one more lock opened between them.
“I’m going to make you round with my child, little witch. I am going...to...fuck, push so much of my seed inside you…”
“Yesyesyes, oh Gods! Sev, fill me up, ugh...fill me up, please!”
Hermione begged, despite knowing it wasn’t real, not yet anyway.
“Will you let me lick your milk off these pretty tits, love?” He sucked one in as he bottomed out from under her. His hands kept her swaying bosom in place as she rocked her hips to match his thrusts, her mind already filled with images of Severus sucking the excess milk out of her breasts.
First, their orgasms peaked and took them under current of sizzling fire of their own creation.
But shortly, the reality of the challenges yet to be faced crashed over them. The unknown vastness of time and the uncertainty of their survival. They did not fuck, or have sex or make love, then. Oh, no. When they touched again...they worshiped.

Chapter Text

The sky above the cliffs was turning gray. The sea below was restless, its never ending waves spearing higher towards the sky each time they met the rocky shore. Severus did not need to look out the window, to know the storm was coming. He could feel it in his bones.

He stood in their library. The fire crackled in the hearth. It was the last day of the old year. Tomorrow, their honeymoon would end and they would have to return to Hogwarts. To the real life outside this warm little bubble they created in the previous days. His obsidian gaze roamed over the framed photographs and thanked the magic itself this little piece of land was unplottable. Protected.
No one could find their little cottage. Their library. No one could see the immobile polaroid photographs Hermione framed and placed on the mantel.

In the first one, Severus captured his wife smiling up at him. His rumpled shirt slid off her shoulders, an open book clutched in her hand. The sun kissed her face from the side, making her eyes sparkle.
In the second one, he stood on a cliff, gazing out at the sea. Just a silhouette of stark blackness, sharp against the soft clouds in the sky above him. His winter coat billowed in the wind. Severus smirked, knowing full well that is why all the students called him the Bat.

In the next picture, they were kissing in the kitchen.  Despite its blurriness, Severus loved how it captured the softness of their lips pressed together, her mouth curling up in the sweetest smile. He remembered, how she made him stretch out an arm to take it. How she teased him. He remembered how that camera was soon forgotten, as he lifted Hermione on the kitchen island as their sweet kisses grew hungrier. How his fingers pressed into the skin on her hips. How he tore off her underwear and plunged into her already dripping heat. How he felt like he couldn’t breathe until he was moving inside her. And even then. She was only ever close enough when she was wrapped around him.
Her lips pressed to his collarbone. His neck. He still had a love bite from that day. They came together, panting into each others mouths. They came quietly, as if being loud would shatter the intensity of the moment. He kissed a tear that slid down her freckled cheek, before he carried her upstairs and made love to her again.

The fourth picture was once more, of him. He did not know she took it. He was talking about something, his face serious but relaxed. His eyes were cast down, a corner of his mouth quirking up just a fraction. A hint of a smile. It was a close up. His face only. It puzzled him, that she wanted to remember him just that way.

The polaroids of her beautiful, naked body were upstairs, tucked in his bedside drawer. Her breasts and belly peeking out from under the bed sheets, the morning light illuminating her skin. He took them after he woke her up with his cock rubbing against her center. They had a lazy sort of morning sex. He muttered filthy things against her ear as he rocked into her from behind, his tongue drawing little swirling patterns from her ear to the top of her spine. He enjoyed making her skin prickle with gooseflesh. He needed to hear her moan in ecstasy as he rutted deeper, lost in the delectable embrace of her heat. They stayed in bed long that morning, lost in each other, letting the world outside of their little cottage fall away.

Now, as he stood here in the library, Hermione was framing the last one. A professional photograph of a larger format. Cerberus brought it in just an hour ago, straight from Ezra’s studio. Hermione’s framing project took up the entire dining table, pieces of wood and glass and cardboard were scattered everywhere.
This photography was one of them on their wedding day.  They were laughing as they walked towards their cottage, one hand tangled with hers, the other on the small of her back. Snow softly falling, the floor beneath their feet littered with little white hearts. Severus loved that photograph. They looked good together – she a light to his darkness. His counterpart.

In that moment, Severus knew what was coming before it even happened.
His dark mark burned.
He was being summoned.

He desperately wanted to clutch at his forearm. Instead, Severus snapped into the dark castle of his mind, his face grim. Quickly summoning his black wool robes with a flick of his wand, he went through his possible tactics for what would most likely await him on the other side of his apparation.
Hermione stormed into the library, eyes wide.
»You are leaving.«
It was not a question. It was a statement. No judgment, just understanding. Support.
Severus pinched his eyes shut as he readied.
»I have to.«
His reluctance was obvious.
»Hermione... I have a bad feeling about this. Go to Dumbledore. Posy can take you straight to the castle.«

Severus knew how much it cost his wife to keep her spirits up. He kissed her desperately. They clung to each other, before she pushed him away, smirking.
»Go play a Death Eater. And above all - stay safe.«

Hermione stood at the window, watching her husband step just outside their wards before he disappeared in a swirling cloud of his black robes.
“Posy!”
Chin held high, she made sure her voice would not crack. No, she would remain strong. She would have faith in her husband.
Posy appeared on the window ledge next to her.
“Mistress called for Posy?” the little elf smiled, her little chest puffed with pride.
“Yes, thank you for coming so quickly. I need you to take me to Dumbledore, please.”
“Is the master gone again? That dark wizard is trouble.” There was something sad in the eyes of the little elf now.
“The Master is very brave. He is smart to marry Mistress.”
Hermione kept quiet, hoping that would be sufficient to keep Posy talking. It worked.
“Posy took care of Master when the dark wizard hurt him. Now Master had married his brave little Mistress. She heals him and brings him light. A very good Mistress Posy has.”
Hermione smiled and took little elf’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you Posy. I hope you are right.”
Little elf winked affectionately.
Then they flew.

Hermione’s head still spun from the travel as they landed in Dumbledore’s round office. She was still trying her best to process the revelation that the house elves could apparate you in and out of wards, when the Headmaster addressed her.
“Miss Granger -  or should I say, Madam Snape?”
The old wizards eyes glinted with humor as he sat in his ornate chair.
It was still sunny in this part of Scotland, despite the bitter cold that snaked its fingers through the cracks in the walls.
Hermione straightened.
“Thank you, Posy, you can go back to the cottage now.”
The little elf was gone with a crack, but not before winking at her Mistress.
“Severus was summoned not five minutes ago. He told me to come to you. To warn you he had a bad feeling.”

Dumbledore kept quiet as he observed the witch. The change in her was now complete. Before him stood a marvelous, brilliant young woman, her albeit strong disillusionment charm unable to hide the ring on her finger from his knowing eyes.
“How are you finding married life so far, Hermione?”
She held his gaze for a beat.
“I fail to see how this is of any importance, but very well, thank you.”
“I suppose the marks on your neck mean the bond had been successfully consummated.”
“Again, I fail how this is relevant, but yes.”
There was a silent pride, pushing her shoulders back, steeling her spine. Hermione felt like her relationship with Severus had to be protected, even from the man that bonded her to Severus.
“You see, I believe you and Severus might be able to communicate through the bond, despite having miles of land between the two of you.”
Hermione held the Headmaster’s silvery gaze, still calculating how much about the bond was safe to reveal.
Dumbledore sighed, all mischief leaving his composure.
“Indeed, you are proving yourself a true companion to Severus. Alright, alright - I will be frank.”
Hermione could almost feel her ears prickle with anticipation. This conversation seemed off. Like a chess game she did not condone to play.
“Severus must have sent you here to form a link between him and the Order. If he finds out any troubling news, it will be quicker and much safer to warn us through your bond than to send a patronus.”
He watched the witch turn toward the window. A smart move, Dumbledore thought. Now he could not try to read her mind or her expression. The calculating Slytherin inside her fought war against her Gryffindor nature. Being honest, being brave. She decided to follow her instinct and be a bit too honest. Too Gryffindor to be recognized for being slippery. 
Hermione’s voice was flat and calm as she began to speak.
“Yes, we can communicate through our bond. Have been able to since September.”
She stole a glance over her shoulder, to find the Headmaster to look completely shellshocked.
“Before – before the ritual? Even, before your first kiss?”
“Yes.” she confirmed quietly.
“And I suspect the pull we felt towards one another, was in us both even before that.”
“Remarkable...truly remarkable. I have not heard of another soul bond of such strength.” Dumbledore’s voice was one of pure reverence.
A coil of worry began to twist in Hermione’s stomach. She was not sure whether this reveal was a good or a bad thing. After all – she was never any good at chess.
“Please, don’t use this knowledge against us. Severus’s life had been hard enough already. He deserves better than scheming and manipulation.”
Her chin up, she held the Headmaster’s silvery gaze with a bravado of a true Gryffindor.
“He told you.”
“Everything.”
“Do you love him?”
Dumbledore couldn't help but push her buttons, obvuiously. But Hermione only stared at him, a little too cold, a little to proud to allow this conversation any further. 
“Are you intentionally insulting?”
Her words rang like a sword though the silence in the room. 
“Very well then. My apologies, your husband is a lucky man.”
Dumbledore finally seemed to fold. He expected her usual Gryffindor nature to get the better of her, and thus allowed her to turn that on him instead. 
Hermione felt like the uncomfortable conversation was over at last. The white king toppled over on the imaginary chessboard. She had won her first game with the Headmaster.
“So we wait?”
Dumbledore nodded with obvious reluctance.
“So we wait.”

The white marble hearth gleamed despite the glum light of the winter afternoon. Severus kept the walls of the dark castle inside his mind shut tight. Inside his mind, he felt safe enough to think it was just his luck to spend the last day of the year as a Death Eater. He did not allow himself to think of his pretty little wife now that he was at the Malfoy manor, waiting for the chaos to erupt.
The first thing he heard were the silent footsteps of his master, accompanied by the sound of a big slithering snake. Nagini. 
Despite being the head of Slytherin, Severus despised this snake. Not all snakes or reptiles. Just Nagini. There was something odd and off putting about that creature. He barely managed to stifle a shiver, when another sound joined in. It was the manic, high pitched laughter. Bellatrix was here.

That could not mean anything good, Severus thought. The witch was nothing but trouble. She had gotten it into her head that she and Snape were in some sort of competition to become the Dark Lords right hand. As if that was possible. There should be organization, order, priorities for the Dark Lord to actively seek out a right hand. Instead, the Death Eaters were more unhinged and chaotic than ever. There were small, almost ‘guerilla’ like actions, with unpredictable teams, and even more unpredictable outcomes. Then, there was the rivalry between the members. Their constant fear of their leader. The wild and blind chase of his approval, that gained you some false safety. The truth was – Death Eaters feared their leader almost as much as they had admired him. 

Severus wanted desperately to spit the foul taste out of his mouth. Fucking anarchy.
Feeling like he might get his thoughts skimmed over, Severus deliberately thought about Potter, the little pompous and ignorant arse. Weasley stuffing his open mouth with food. Dumbledore and his endless scheming. He let his loathing fill him up to his ears. With the intentional flourish to his black cloak, Severus spun on his heel, to kneel down before the Dark Lord. A curtain of jet black hair fell over the mask on his face.
“You called, my Lord.”
“Ssssseverus.” Voldemort hissed, turning his head to Bellatrix. 
“He isss here. We can proceed.”
Severus knew it was essential to feign boredom instead of dread, and did so. He barely even noticed it cost him, just a little. But for the first time in nearly two decades – he noticed.
“How can I be of service, my Lord?” 
“I need the location of the Weasley’s home residence.”
There was cold amusement in Voldemort’s voice. It sent shivers down the spine of every person in the room.
“I hear the Order is gathering for...a celebration.” 
Childish giggle escaped the pale thin lipped mouth. 
“We are bringing the fireworks!”

Hermione’s head spun with rush of images that were suddenly being thrust into her head. 
“The Burrow!” she exclaimed, gripping her forehead with clammy fingers. 
“They will attack the Burrow.” She panted, overcome with the sense of urgency.
“The Death Eaters - they want to burn it down, with the majority of the Order trapped inside!”
Dumbledore sat quietly, as still as a statue. If it were not for the wrinkles on his forehead, Hermione would be forced to imagine he did not hear her. But similar to her husband, Hermione was well accustomed to notice the little things. 
“We must do something!”
She pushed herself up and paced to one of the windows.
Dumbledore refrained from commenting that was the same window Severus always stood by, when in his office. Interesting. 

“What do you suggest, Hermione?” There was a silent detachment in his voice, as if he dismissed the information as one of lesser value.
“If we were to warn them of the attack, it would only endanger Severus. There is nothing to be done. The Weasleys have survived worse.” 
Bored. He dared to sound bored while there were lives at stake! The outrage of his response or lack of it, sent hot fury spiraling through her fingers. Dumbledore was about to pick up a piece of parchment he was reading before, but Hermione struck it out of his blackened hand with a quiet display of wordless magic. Dumbledore froze. It was not often he was caught off guard. 

“No.” her voice was silent, almost a whisper. 
Dumbledore stared. She dared defy him?
“No?” he asked dumbly. 
“No. I will go there. If I can ward the Burrow with the combination of spells Severus had taught me, the Death Eaters will be forced to duel with the Order outside the perimeter. They will not be able to penetrate the wards and put their plans in motion.” 
“That could work.” Dumbledore nodded slowly. 
“I forget how truly brilliant you are.”
He added absentmindedly. 
“But not a word of the attack to anyone. You are there to surprise them, join the party.” 
Hermione smirked, arching her eyebrow at the Headmasters comment.
“I am not Severus’s spouse for no reason now, am I?”
She called out for Posy, her magic coiling up to face the challenge. 
“I will make him proud.”

“Mione!” loud cheers erupted all over the packed living room at the Burrow.
“Surprise!” she laughed, throwing her hands up in the air, accepting the bear hugs of the twins, who stood near the kitchen door, obviously up to no good.
Then came Harry, Ginny and surprisingly – even Luna. Molly filled her a plate of food and Hermione sat down to eat, knowing full well she needed the fuel.

She just finished warding the property as quickly as she could, disillusioned and with silenced feet, hoping her spell work will prove sufficient. Despite knocking back a vile of pepper up potion Posy brought from Severus’s private stores, she felt exhausted. Hermione knew she could not go into the fight risking magical depletion.
She used food to avoid most questions, turning the conversation towards everyone else in her presence. She gladly listened as they rambled on about their lives.
Then, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Someone was staring at her intensely. Turning her head slightly, she caught Minerva’s questioning eyes. The older witch knew something must have happened, if Hermione appeared before the end of her Honeymoon – without her husband.
Hermione let her chin fall slightly. Yes, she thought, trying her best to convey the message as subtly as possible.
Yes, something is going on.
She glanced out the window, out to the empty fields across the warding perimeter. Making sure her Head of House caught the message, she looked back, tilting her head askew.
This time, Minerva lowered her chin. She understood.
Whatever was coming, will likely take place outdoors. 

The hour dragged on. Hermione found herself almost unable to follow conversations, such was the tension coiling up inside her. There was nothing worse than waiting for the inevitable.

The first crack came just after dark. Then another. And another.
Hermione rose to go to the windows, her eyes searching for figures in the dark. It did not take long.
The first face she saw was Bellatrix, boldly unadorned by the Death Eater regalia. Beside her stood Greyback, vanishing his silver mask. He smirked smugly, his shallow eyes taunting any who dared to look at him. There were others, still masked. One stood almost in the center, his posture rigid, his frame tall and menacing.
Hermione’s heart leaped.
Her husband, the Death Eater.

Hermione waited with the baited breath, to see what was to happen. Arthur and Remus grasped Harry, trying to keep him inside. Her friend went livid at the sight of Bellatrix, the witch who murdered his last living family member. Despite her heart tearing up at the sight of it, her mind was filled with calculation.
How long would her wards hold?
Would Severus manage to avoid breaking them?
Hermione knew he was capable of it, but unsure whether the rest of the world did.

“You did well. They can’t get in.”
Relief flooded her at the sound of his voice, echoing inside her thoughts.
“Harry is about to break out.” she whispered back.
“Don’t worry, I wont let them hurt him.”
Just as the soothing words broke into her head, Harry broke free and shot out of the house.
“Harry, no!”
Ron, Remus and Molly called after him.
“Harry, come back!” Ginny surprised everyone by sprinting after him.
Hermione could hear the cackling laughter of the deranged Bellatrix, taunting Harry with a chillingly sing song voice.
The rest of the Order trickled out of the Burrow not long after. Some to drag the young renegade couple back to safety, others to cover their backs. With most of the Order out dueling, Hermione could no longer stand alone inside the confines of her safety.
“Protego!” she shouted as she erected the shield around Weasley twins, who fought three masked Death Eaters, their gaunt backs pressed against one another.
“Thanks, Mione!” they shouted back in unison as they continued to hex the trio with most bizzarre curses possible.
Molly and Arthur were fighting to protect Ginny and Luna from Greyback, when the werewolf suddenly turned to smell the air. His nostrils flared and his grin grew feral. Despite the fact that Hermione was competently sending hexes and protective spells in all possible directions, her fight or flight instincts woke in the same second Greyback turned to pursue her.
This time she chose flight.

She ran as fast as she could, mud slippery under her feet. It felt as if running took twice as much energy, as she tried desperately to stay upright. 
She dared not to glance back.
She knew no one covered for her.
She knew the spells she threw blindly over her shoulder did not slow down the werewolf in pursuit. Instead, they amused him. He flicked them off as if they were pesky flies. Until one caught him in the shoulder. Greyback threw his head back, howling.
“Bitch!” he whimpered, one hand pressed to his bleeding wound.
Oh yes, that must have stung, Hermione thought. Daring to turn back, a spell caught her in the chest, flinging her backwards. She landed in the mud, and the world around her spun in circles.
She had to get back up, she had to. Her jaw clenched tight, sheer determination coursed through her veins.
She was Hermione Snape.
She would not go down easy.

Hermione twirled her wand as she got back to her feet, muttering a series of offensive spells. Greyback managed to deflect only the first two, but he was too slow for her. The rest of her hexes crashed into him and knocked him back a few steps before he landed in what could only be described as a frigid swamp. Hermione noticed the wards were only a few paces away.
Safety.

She tried to back away slowly, keeping her eyes on the enemy. The man – the creature – looked positively feral.
“Mark my words witch, I will enjoy taking you apart. Limb by fuckin’ limb.” He bared his teeth. His eye twitched.
Just three more careful steps, Hermione thought. Three more steps and she'd be safe.
Her breaths were short, shallow. The world around her came into focus with frightening precision. Her mouth went dry.
“I am almost tempted to let you think you have escaped me.” Greyback taunted, ready to leap.
Then it all happened fast. Hermione sent another hex flying towards her attacker as she dove towards the shimering safety barrier. Greyback ducked under her spell, flinging himself after her with a desperate cry. Someone screamed.
All Hermione saw before her body collided with the frozen ground inside the wards was a flash of a spell, spiraling out of the black wand held by her husband.

Voices. There were too many voices.
Hermione squirmed, hew brow furrowed. 
There was a dull pain pulsing through her head and shoulders. Her body felt wrung out. 
The Burrow.

“Miss Granger?” Minervas stern voice softened with worry. 
Hermione felt inclined to correct her, already hating that she had to hide the relationship. It crashed over her, how difficult it had to be for Severus to live alone under the pile of his own lies and deceptions, never truly free to be himself, react according to how he felt or what he thought. 
“Professor?” 
“You lost consciousness after fighting your way back to safety. Greyback missed you by just a few hair strands, if I say so myself.”
The strong Scottish brogue was even thicker now, that the elder witch was overcome with pride and relief.
“Another Death Eater seemed to terminate their mission soon after.”

Severus.
He must have pulled his rank to dismiss the mission. Hermione worried he would therefore have to shoulder the blame for their lack of success. 
“And the others?” Damn it, why did she have to sound so weak?!
“Everything is well. A few scrapes and cuts, nothing worse.” 
Hermione took a look around the room, the blood and mud stained faces far from cheerful. It somehow shouldn’t surprise her, that the Order didn’t have a healer among their ranks, who’d be present for such occasions. That singled her out as the one responsible for checking in on the state of others. 
Bloody Dumbledore. 
She should have known he’d have not one but many uses for her quick course in healing.
Hermione got up slowly and stumbled her way across the hall and into the loo. It took her a few deep breaths to settle, before she had a mind to silence the little room and call for Posy. 
“I need the emergency first aid kit and a selection of potions.” she rattled off to the little elf. Posy popped out, obviously proud to be thought of in a time of crisis. 
Hermione knocked back two of the potions – the Pepper Up and the Pain relief. She had to remain sharp and present.
Severus was still occluding, but Hermione had a hunch he was not coming back in one piece this time around. 

The living room was filled with hushed conversations when she reentered. No one left, but the party spirit had been overrun by the taste of war yet to come. 
“I want to cast diagnostics on everyone. I have been trained well by now.” she offered in a tone mimicking the Hogwarts Matron. 
No one refused. It proved her right, eventually, to cast diagnostics. Two wounds had slow working curses attached. Three cuts needed stitching. Four people needed burn salve to avoid festering. Luckily, no unforgivable had landed. Hermione was far from being the only one needing potions for relief. Luckily, Molly pitched in, offering everyone a cup of hot chocolate and additional doses of potions she kept in the Burrow just in case. 

It was half past nine when Minerva dragged Dumbledore through the floo.
“No. I refuse to listen to any more of your excuses, old man.” she chastised the Headmaster with her lips pressed into a tight line. 
“I did not know of the attack Minnie. And even had I known, I would have no way to warn you without it affecting the bigger picture.”
There was a passing glance of exasperation Minerva shared with Hermione, before returning her attention to the old wizard. 
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Albus.” 
Hermione decided to lay low, refusing to risk her involvement in the incident being exposed. She mulled over what was being said and waited. Waited for a sign that her husband was alive and well.
More Order members joined the debate, strategized and poured ideas over what was the meaning of this attack – other then to instill the fear and prove that no one was safe anymore.
The clock struck eleven.
A quarter past.

Others seemed well on their way to resume the party. 

Hermione considered the damage of taking another potion to wait up for Severus. Then she felt him slide through her wards and approach. She barely stopped herself from jumping out of her seat and racing to him. Instead, she waited for the door to swing open. Then the entire room went eerily quiet.

Severus still looked like a Death Eater, his long black robes spilling down his back like a set of wings. He somehow looked even taller now that his frame was bent forward in pain, his face pale and grim.
She wanted to pour out all her love for him, hold him close in relief. Knowing he was back. Safe.
Instead she took a few careful steps towards him as everyone else held their breath.
“You idiots. Almost. Lost...your home.” His voice boomed through the room like the sound of thunder. 
"Reckless with your wards as if this is another peaceful day in May! Well, let me inform you, we are about to fight a WAR!"
“Professor?” Hermione took a step closer. “What happened?”
“Cruciatus. Few. Other...curses.” He ground out through gritted teeth. He was limping and his hands shook violently.
Hermione held out her arm and Severus took it, held on as he tried for dear life to keep himself upright.
“He needs to lie down. I will tend to him.” Hermiones eyes went straight to Dumbledore's. The silver eyes were calculating, but the old wizard remained quiet.
“I need to heal him before he travels back to Hogwarts. It's a wonder he had not splinched himself in this state.” Hermione kept her voice low but firm.
No one in the room seemed to be shocked she spoke to the Headmaster in such way. 
Arthur suddenly shook out of his daze and straightened.
“Take him to your usual room upstairs, Hermione. I will make sure no one bothers you. Off you go.”
Molly looked as if she was about to protest, but her husband cut her off immediately.
“Don't, Molly, just – don’t. We are deeply indebted to the man. That is the least we can do for him.”

The stairs were a bit tricky, but as soon as they were alone in the small attic room, Hermione let out a long breath.
Severus slumped down to the bed so small his long legs stretched far over the edge.
“Come here.” he commanded, his voice low, raspy.
“My husband – hexed half way into next year and still barking orders.” Hermione smirked at him softly, before she pressed her lips to his.
“Let me take care of you, love.”
She stroked a hand trough his raven hair.
“My brave warrior. Here, drink this. I had Posy bring me a First aid selection just in case.”
Severus wanted to protest at her words, but gratefully accepted the vial from her hands, downed the potion with practiced ease and let it chase away the pain. Hermione busied herself with warming the room, but remained quiet. The little chit already knew he would speak up when he was ready.
“It's almost midnight.” she said after a while, absentmindedly. Their fingers were laced together, his tremors settling under her feather light touch.
In the field behind the Burrow Weasley twins shouted the countdown. The fireworks began. Hermione and Severus sighed in unison, happy they managed to prevent a disaster from ruining a home to so many. Achingly slow, their lips met somewhere in the middle. For a brief sliver of time, they were simply a pair of newlyweds leaping into the New Year, melting into each other.

Chapter Text

It was dull and gray in the dungeons, scones shining bright to illuminate the room that was, for the past fifteen years, Severus’s study. Severus frowned at the pile of homework assignments he still had to sort trough in order to keep up his own brutal standard of returning them the following lesson. His colleagues took more time for such tasks, and now Severus finally understood why.
In the years of his solitude, a rigid and relentless work pace kept him occupied. It helped to build and maintain his stern, taciturn professorial style. It kept the amount of lunacy in his classroom to a minimum. But now?
The amount of work he should have done to uphold his usual ways, in order to prevent any suspicion, made him want to jump through the window.

As always, a new idea for a spell hit him like a runaway train. Could he create a spell for unsupported flight?
Muttering, Severus went to a blackboard he kept attached to the wall for such purposes and began scribbling out his theories in haste. The eerily silence soothed his overactive brain, disturbed only by the tapping sound of his white chalk, spiky script already flowing around scribbled charts. Severus didn’t notice how it got dark outside, or how the dial on the clock had turned.

Hermione simply observed him, as she entered the room about two hours later. Severus’s schoolwork was long forgotten and pushed aside on the desk overflowing with the tomes he must have pulled off the bookshelves at some point. A half-full teacup with it’s cold contents threatened to fall off the shelf. His black hair was messed up by his own fingers, his shirtsleeves rolled up.

Judging by the state of her knickers, one sight of her brilliant husband deep at work was enough to make Hermione want to beg him. To fill her up, to paint her skin... Her list of newly discovered kinks seemed to grow longer every time Severus touched her.
As if a little drunk, her husband regarded his research one last time before he turned to face Hermione with dazed eyes. Then, he was on her in two strides. Without a word, he pulled her up for a frantic kiss, his mouth hard and demanding. Their tongues tangled, their teeth clashed, their breaths hitched.
“I...fucking...need you…” he grumbled against her lips with a raspy voice as he tugged at his own shirt.
“Take me, then.” was all she managed to say before Severus vanished their clothes in a fit of impatience and spun her around so she was facing the bookshelves.
His hands slid up, brushing her skin from her shoulders to her wrists. Hermione remembered him touching her in a very similar way on that innocent summer day in August, when he first taught her how to ward.
Now he was pinning her in place.
“I want to...bind you…” he whispered in her ear, his voice menacing and low.
All Hermione could do in response was nod.
“Incarcerous.”
A thin, black rope wound it’s way around her wrists, fixing them to the wooden shelf. Arousal scorched through Hermione’s body as if her veins held fyendfire instead of blood. She felt one of his hands travel up her inner thigh with feather-light caress and her knees almost buckled.
“What a delicious little witch...all mine to play with. Do you want to keep your eyes open, or should I blindfold you as well?”
“I-I don’t know.” Hermione replied in earnest.
All she knew in that moment was that Severus obviously had a bout of excess creative energy to work off and she wanted all of it.
“Were you a good girl today, Hermione?”
Hermione nodded. Whined, when his warm palm rested on her butt cheek, his teeth scraping at the base of her neck.
“Then you should be allowed to enjoy yourself to the fullest.”
Hermione closed her eyes as the silk of her school tie slid over them, Severus’s dexterous fingers making a quick work with another knot, then carefully braiding the remaining fabric with her unruly mass of curls.
Now, she could only feel.
His heavy cock resting against the crevice of her arse.
Her breasts heavy and sensitive, begging for attention.

She could hear him breathing against her skin, his mouth hovering over her shoulders, as if feasting on the sight she made before plunging forward to play. This silent coiling before striking out was his most Slytherin trait.
“I always feel like exploding with magic potency after constructing new spellwork.” he quietly admitted.
“What a burden you carry, Sir.”
“Taunting witch. Don’t mock me. I want to praise my good girl, not punish her.”
Hermione bit down on her lip to keep her mouth from running off on her.
She knew, praise or punishment, he’d make it feel good.
She didn’t know when, exactly, they began sliding into these roles when they were having sex. But it seemed the more they explored each other, more versatile they became.
And Severus began to slowly open up. He was a passionate, intense and generous lover. No matter what they did, he always made sure she came. A lot.
He always made sure she was comfortable and safe. And he never held back.
And that, to Hermione’s thinking, was the best part of it.

Severus was whispering praise now.
He kept his voice low, molten, like dripping honey. His fingers were everywhere. Stroking, caressing, scraping.
Then she felt him shift, move away completely. Hermione cried out at the loss of contact.
Then...then.
His fingers brushed her nipples. First, just a ghost of a touch. Again and again, until she couldn’t take it any longer, pushing herself forward to meet his palms.
“Do you want...more?”
His voice was now another caress to her senses.
“Yes.” She said hastily.
“Yes...what?”
“Yes, Sir. Please. Please!” Hermione corrected her error quickly, desperate to have him continue and deepen his ministrations.
“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
His hands returned, pinching her nipples, twisting them in synchronous motions. She could feel his hot breath now, right there beside her ear, which made her think he must be watching how her nipples reacted to his touch. How her entire body arched to reach him. How she rubbed her thighs in order to subdue the tingling sensations that were increasingly demanding attention.
Then, he kicked her feet apart, one hand skimming over her belly and reaching it’s final destination. Rubbing her already sensitive clit with his fingers was a completely different experience standing up, bent forward because of the binds. Hermione felt caged in by the way his tall body leaned into hers, his cock sliding against her folds. He was teasing himself, jerking off between her legs, while continuing his ministrations. His mouth began to roam down her spine, eliciting loud moans that tore from her lips like a prayer.
“Unh, Sev...fuck...pleasefuck...ah, yes!”
“You want me to fuck you already, Madam Snape?”
“Yes, yes! I want your cock to fill me up sooooo BADLY! FUUUCK!”

Hermione screamed her last words as Severus pushed his cock inside her forcefully, stretching her dripping center to it’s limits. Not giving her time to adjust, he began pounding into her at a punishing pace, his hips snapping at her backside while he gripped her hips like they were his lifeline.
“Good...girls...get...what...they...fucking...argh...ask...ungh...for!” he bit out between thrusts, pushing down on the small of her back to position her in the way that allowed him to go even deeper and hitting that sweet spot that made her juices trickle.
One hand back on her clit, he bit down on her shoulder now, a beast of a man, claiming his mate. Severus wanted her to come so hard she wouldn’t trickle, but gush. Make a puddle at their feet. And he was damn well making it happen.
“So close...ah..soclosesoclose!”
His wife was muttering. Overwhelmed and oversensitive, as far as Severus could distinguish her emotions through the bond.
“Let. Go!”
He commanded, growling with the force of his own pleasure.
Hermione’s hands fisted around the ropes. Her knees trembled. Her mouth parted in a silent scream, as a gush of clear liquid exploded around his swollen cock, spraying the floor beneath.
“That’s it! Oh fuck, you’re so good for me! So. Fucking. Brilliant!”
Severus came three sharp thrust later, Hermione’s walls still fluttering around his steely length.

Hermione could feel the way he pushed his seed deep into her, how he twitched and rutted a little even when he was descending from his orgasmic high.
The room spun, despite her not being able to see or move. Her body felt so strong and so fragile at the same time.
Expecting Severus to just pull out and cancel her restrictions, Hermione gasped as he rocked back and forth a few times, gently now. His erection was quickly regaining it’s usual strength despite him spilling himself inside her barely a minute ago.
“Are you alright?” Severus asked, peppering little kisses over her shoulder blades.
“Yes. A little overwhelmed, but in a good way.”
He kept rocking them at a languid pace, his cock slathered in their juiced making the most obscene sounds when Severus almost pulled out, only to slowly slide back in. As Hermione began to mewl, her knees obviously turning to jelly, he slipped out, and surprised her again.
He must have canceled the sticking charm on her ropes, because she was still tied up, but Severus was now carrying her to bed, gentle and careful as if she was made of glass.
He laid her down on her back, propping her up with some pillows. Then, he pulled her knees up and Hermione could feel another pair of ropes snake their way around her legs. A fresh wave of arousal shocked her body, now pliant and relaxed. He could have her tied up for the entire night now, Hermione realized, and played with her body until she blacked out. She wouldn’t care.
It hadn’t been two weeks since they married and Severus already knew her body like a virtuoso knew his favorite instrument.

Severus decided to use his tongue first. He lapped up the path their juices left down her legs, tasting them both. Hermione moaned and her walls clenched a little. Severus pushed two of his fingers into her heat, arching them as his mouth continued to clean her up. He didn’t use his hand to stopper her hole, no. He played with what was left inside, then pulled his hand out to smear it across her parted lips. Her tongue darted out to lick, and she moaned even louder at the taste.
Severus reached between her legs again, pumped his fingers a little faster so she wailed a little, then again, pulled away and pushed those fingers inside her mouth, ordering her to suck.
His cock throbbed like crazy, leaking with precome.
Pushing back to his feet, Severus turned her some so she could lick at his cock this time. And Gods, did she lick. Nibble. Suck.
“So fucking eager, aren’t you?” Severus goaded her.
He knew damn well what hearing his voice strained with pleasure did to his wife. If she weren’t restrained, she’d be snaking a hand between her legs now, to fondle her clit while he pushed deeper into her hot mouth.
Feeling like he couldn’t take it any longer, he stepped around the bed again. He was on her like a demon, his cock sheathed to the hilt in one smooth stroke. Hermione came in an instant.
“Severus! Severuuus!” she screamed as her muscles contracted around him like a death trap.
Another trickle.
Severus bucked faster now, knowing her limp body was his to empty into.
“Mine! My woman, my wife! My. Whole. Fucking. World!”
Hermione fluttered again, weekly this time. It surprised him – Severus didn’t expect her to go into a consecutive orgasm.
Then she went completely limp, as he pulled out and emptied himself on her. His seed covered her belly, her breasts, her collar bone.

Severus spelled away her tie and the ropes quickly, trying not to panic.
Hermione was out.
She must have fallen unconscious right before he came.
A wave of self loathing threatened to overcome him, but Severus knew this was not the way he wanted to go, not when Hermione needed him to take care of her.
He realized he wanted to talk to her about all of this, when she felt strong enough. Talking to her always helped.

Severus summoned a glass of fresh water, gently waking her up with kisses and whispers.
Hermione’s eyes fluttered as she forced them open.
“Thank Merlin, I was beginning to think I’d need to use a spell to bring you back.”
Severus’s eyes were swimming with worry.
“Don’t fear, my love. I wanted this. You made me feel so good I swooned. Quite literally.”
She smiled at him softly, cupping his face. Hermione knew her husband well enough to know this called for a lot of reassurances, especially if she wanted to repeat this experience in the future.
Which she did.

Severus was a little quiet now, trying his best not to close himself off inside his own mind in order not to hurt. His fingers drew little patterns over her sternum with what was left of his seed.
“Severus? Look at me, please.” Hermione pushed up to kiss his cheek.
He turned to her then, pressing his forehead to hers, his large nose nuzzling.
“You didn’t hurt me, love.” she whispered.
“I love you. I couldn’t bare it if I was the reason you were hurt, even by an accident.”
Severus barely pushed the words out between his teeth, but hearing them form in the air between them, he instantly felt better. A breath he didn’t even know he was holding, whooshed out. His shoulders slumped a little, the sexual bravado leaving his posture completely. Hermione stroked his back with gentle fingers, coaxing him to relax.
“I know you’d never hurt me, husband of mine. And you didn’t. You took great care of me and my body. You made me feel safe. Desired. Loved. I’d like you to do it again, sometime.”
Her confession struck Severus like a jinx. Sizzling and unexpected.
“I did? You...you would?”
“Yes, silly. I love you. I am spending the rest of my days with you. I hope to have a very long life by your side, with plenty opportunities for you to...you know. Knock me out this way.”
Not knowing how to reply, he simply kissed her. Kissed her with all the love, bursting in his heart like a supernova, burning bright and soothing at the same time. Giving him hope he never knew he needed.

“ Come and lay down beside me, you sweet, brilliant man. I want to hear all about this new spell I saw you creating.” Hermione prompted.
She snuggled into his embrace, their feet tangled, their fingers laced.
“I think I got it right, in theory at least...now I just need to prove it works. The unsupported flight. It’s a gray area, as far as the magical laws can even be applied to this kind of spell. But you know how it is, even the most innocent of the kitchen spells can be a weaponized if the intention of the caster calls for it…”
Severus felt himself ease into his lecturing persona as he continued. And when he spoke, he noticed his little wife so brilliantly achieved to kill two birds with one stone - much to his amusement.
First, redirecting him to explain at length about his new spellwork helped Severus to relax completely. Shift gears. His mind was slowing down, his emotions stabilized and overall very positive.
And second? His voice helped lull her to sleep. His wife drifted off to the sound of his voice as he spoke, emphasizing how much she trusted him. How much her entire body needed him – his voice, his touch, his warmth – to carry her over into peaceful slumber.

They spent their first weekend back at Hogwarts catching up. Severus finally managed to get atop of homework he’d assigned the day before the holidays and on the first two days back in classroom after New Year’s. His body recovered quickly, and he didn’t have to worry any tremors would interrupt his line of scribbling harsh notes on the margin of every piece of parchment he’d have to read through.
While he sat down in his office to catch up with Draco and his days of gathering information around the castle, Hermione took time to meet with Ginny at the quidditch pitch. They sat on the bleachers, watching Harry and Ron practice. Knowing this was their only chance before the boys joined them for a chat, Hermione cast a muffliato – one of Severus’s spells.
“I have something for you.” she told her redhead friend.
“Oh Mione, you brought me a gift?” Ginny beamed.
“But you already got me a Christmas present!”
Hermione smiled secretively, her cheeks turning just a little pink.
“This one is different, special even. It might...explain some things. Open it up and you’ll see.”
Ginny tore at the crimson paper, only to find a lovely oval box with a lid, covered in tiny golden stars. Inside, laid a small glass object. A Christmas ornament, by the looks of it.”
“Wow...Hermione! It’s beautiful! But – why now? We already took down the tree!”
Ginny burst out, not surprising Hermione a bit. She simply let her friend run out of breath. Or questions. Which ever came first.
“Ginny…this is not just any ornament. Hold it in your arms, and think of me. Me and...Severus.”
The redhead witch did as she was asked, then closed her eyes in concentration. She felt Hermione’s hands cover hers in attempt to prevent any accidents. It was a smart thing to do, because Ginny could have sworn she was likely to drop and break the ornament when the images began to swirl inside her mind.
Hermione walking down a stone path littered with jars of bluebell flames. Professor Snape in a beautiful wizarding robes, looking at her with all those intense emotions in his eyes.
A golden light swirling around their wrists as Dumbledore and Draco Malfoy preformed a ceremony.
McGonagall and Hermione’s parents dabbing at the tears as they turned towards what appeared to be a festively decorated cottage.
Hermione, swaying around a living room in the arms of the dark Professor.
Others, joining in on the make-shift dance floor.
A rapid reel of little everyday kind of moments. Laughing at the dining table. Holding hands on the sandy beach beneath the cliffs. Wind whipping at their figures as they kicked off on his burly black motorcycle.

The memories slowly settled back into the ornament, leaving Ginny just a little dizzy. Her pale eyes searched Hermione’s expression.
“You got…oh sweet Circe!” Ginny hugged her friend fiercely now, hugged as if she wanted to crush her bones.
“That’s the safest way to include you. Severus helped me make this for you, because he knew how sad I was you couldn’t be there.” Hermione explained.
“I applaud you for keeping such a secret, Mione. It can’t be easy.” Ginny trailed off for a few beats.
“He seems different, when you are together. I can finally imagine how he makes you happy.”
They sat there, watched the boys finish their laps to cool off some.
“Please hide it. Hide it well. It probably won’t show anyone else what is captured inside, but I don’t want to risk it.” Hermione said after a while.
“I wish I could tell Harry and Ron...maybe after the war, if we all make it. I hope one day, they will be mature enough to understand.”
Ginny slid an arm around her friend’s shoulders, squeezing encouragingly.
“I’m sure they will...eventually.”

It was a gloomy Monday afternoon, when Hermione found herself running up the flights of stairs like crazy. Someone must have stunned her wristwatch when she wasn’t paying attention, because it stopped working while she ate lunch at the Great Hall, stealing covert glances at her husband.
Now, she was late to his class.
“What’s the matter, love? I can feel your panic.” his voice echoed through her mind in time with her heartbeat.
“I am...running late. Someone messed with my wrist watch…”
Hermione felt like even in her mind, her voice huffed from extortion.
“No one’s left out in the hall. I can wait for you at the door. If we enter together no one will question why I am not sneering at you, or docking points.”
A chuckle vibrated through the connection.
“Unless you want to receive detention...I could get creative.” he suggested.
“Ha. I just might take you up on that before the end of term.” she whispered aloud now, because she was standing in front of him.
Severus only looked at her, his eyes playfully darting to her lips and her cleavage, before he sighed with content.

He opened the door for her, and if some of the faces looked a little befuddled, Severus ignored them. The air of indifference clung to him like his beloved black cloak, enveloping him with the air of authority no other professor seemed to possess.
“Today, we will practice casting the patronus charm. Now, as I have been informed, some of you are already familiar with the spell, however…”

If the lesson plan surprised her, Hermione didn’t show it. She’d be glad to get some practice in, especially since she only managed to cast a corporeal patronus a few times in the past. Wondering if the form of her patronus would now match Severus’s, she observed how he carefully directed the classroom without actually summoning his own animal spirit in blue smoke.
Masterfully deceiving students to focus on their own thoughts, emotions and memories, no one was paying attention to the dark Professor any longer.
Harry was obviously busy reminding everyone that participated in the DA of how well they’ve done all those months ago, a few others already forming groups and guessing on their animal.
Hermione stood by the wall near Harry and Ron, stifling a giggle. She couldn’t imagine Severus’s patronus to be an otter.
She didn’t feel Cormac’s eyes on her body.

But Severus caught the way he looked at his wife. He had to restrain himself not to burst out with rage, the dark magic he controlled already coiling in his veins, begging to be released. He could flay the boy alive. Dissect him for potion ingredients and sell at the black market. Severus knew himself well enough he knew he’d do it, and not loose any sleep.
The boy was a menace, and not the good kind.
Oh no, he was a whole lot of trouble.
“Be careful around McLaggen today, he seems to have missed you.” Severus warned her with the force of his thoughts.
“I will.” Hermione replied in an instant.

The lesson flew by, students forming a line at the wall, in order to give room to the one who’s turn it was to try and cast the spell.
Harry went first, boldly calling on his magnificent stag.
Ron’s hound came trotting around soon after.
Lavender managed a lumpy silhouette that resembled a rabbit.
Seamus summoned what looked like a porcupine on his fourth attempt, making everyone laugh.
McLaggen leaned back and began chatting with the student next to him, as if witnessing the process others went through would be the most boring thing one could choose to do.
“McLaggen!” Severus bellowed, appalled by the boy’s lack of fear and discipline.
“Are you so bloody self absorbed you don’t notice you are stealing some much needed focus from the ones trying to actually achieve a result of their own?!”
Severus’s voice boomed through the space, cold and ruthless.
It made all the chatter die down in an instant.
Severus smirked menacingly.
“It appears your imbecilic behavior is based in attention seeking. Well, you achieved at winning everyone’s attention now. Show us your spell work.” he commanded, his voice not leaving any room for an argument.
The way Cormac McLaggen stepped forward, with a slight saunter to his step, made Severus alert that instead of cowering, the boy now felt challenged.
He looked at Severus now, his bleak brown eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Expecto Patronum!” the blonde shouted.
A silvery mist materialized, wavered a bit, then formed into a shape of a wild boar. But instead of awe or cheers other students received at such successful display of magic, McLaggens boar had everyone shaking with suppressed laughter.
Potter, much to Severus’s surprise, exclaimed the exact words that he had to bite back.
“Hey Cormac! Even your magic knows you’re a pig!”
A short roar of laughter overtook the crowd, before they managed to contain themselves. Probably remembering who’s teaching the class.
McLaggen scowled and directed his patronus to float around Potter, before redirecting in to charge upon Hermione.
Severus watched his wife square her shoulders. Just before the dastardly animal reached her, McLaggen finally piped up.
“See, the magic knows just which bitch I was imagining sucking me off.”

All color drained from Hermiones face as she registered the words. Acting on instinct, she summoned her patronus with a whispered incantation. She thought of Severus, and a million little moments they shared.
The magic burst from the tip of her wand, sending a big owl to chase away the charging boar. It’s sharp tallons aimed at the little button-like eyes, Hermione watched the animal protect her and felt immensely satisfied at it’s grandure.

Owls were known throughout human history, magical and muggle, to be the bearer of wisdom, intuition and knowledge. An omen of death in some cultures, mystery and secrecy in others. A powerful hunter, a loyal companion.
Yes, Hermione thought as her big bird perched on the edge of Severus’s desk after is successfully achieved chasing away the boar.
It all happened so fast Severus almost forgot he meant to admonish the boy for his reckless insults.
“McLaggen. Minus thirty points for inappropriate behavior. And detention, one week at five in the afternoon, with mister Filch.” he bit out, trying his best to contain the rage coursing his veins.
Seeing the boy trying to open his mouth in retort, Severus trudged on,
“I will be speaking with the Headmaster. If he approves of my observations, you will soon by be expelled from this class, anyway.” he kept his voice cold and detached. Nobody noticed he didn’t actually admonish Hermione for defending herself.
“Watch yourself, when I am not around.” his voice piped up in Hermione’s mind.
“I haven’t exactly read his mind, but there is something dangerous, just slightly hidden at the corner of his thoughts, I am telling you.”
“Alright. Constant vigilence.” Hermione replied, then slowly, longingly looked into his black eyes.

Cormac raged, as he bound out of the classroom. Expelled from class, his ass! He was not some impish child, who they’d be making a fool out of at any opportunity.
Cursing, he saw Hermione duck under Longbottom’s arm, then slide away to talk with Draco fucking Malfoy of all people, as she made the turn for the library.
It infuriated him that this little bitch was twisting his plans again, but not matter. She seemed to be content around Slytherins these days.
Then a thought hit him.
Maybe she was a whore to her Slytherin friends.
Was Granger whoring herself to the Malfoy junior?
To the black greasy git everyone called the Bat?

Cormac’s mind filled with salacious images of the two snakes taking her petite curly body at the same time. A shiver ran down his spine. Yess, that was it. He ducked into the nearest lavatory to relieve the erection that was beginning to form in his trousers.
That little curly whore had those two icy snakes wrapped around her fingers.
He’d punish the bitch for taking snake’s cock over his.
Oh yes, Cormac knew now, just how he’d poison her, or curse her.
Then, he’d fuck the Hell out of her. Exorcise her wish for Slytherin men by taking her like a lion that he was. Making her subdue...or die.

January days seemed to bleed into one blur of gray skies, blistering cold and long hours in the classroom.
Severus was grateful to have his little witch warming his bed at night, bringing love and sunshine into their lair in the dungeons. They didn’t manage to leave for the cottage again, but somehow didn’t mind. The nest they created from his underwater quarters seemed to serve them just fine.

It was on the night of his Birthday, that Hermione surprised him. Instead of having a normal day, like he planned to have – he never celebrated his birthday, anyway – Hermione urged him to get up and put his cloak on, as she practically dragged him outside and into the Forbidden forest.
Not knowing what she’d have in mind, he tried his best to follow her enthusiasm and not ruin the good mood by forcing her to march back inside.
They canceled the disillusionment as they got deeper into the forest, knowing no one would see them out here in the dark.
Keeping quiet, partly for safety, partly for comfort, Severus relaxed once again. He was stunned at how easy it had become for them to simply enjoy the silence at times.
Then, Hermione practically ran forward, tugging at his hand.
“There it is! I can’t believe it’s really there!”
Severus looked ahead to see a clearing, stone slates piled and toppled over one another. It was a circle, an altar for the ancient magic.
“A pretty ruin. What purpose does it serve?” he inquired, his interest piqued.
“It’s the altar to celebrate both of the solctices. But that’s not entirely why I brought you here. Look!” Hermione pointed to a small grove below the stones.
Severus stepped closer, only to realize Hermione discovered a growing place of a special, very rare fungus growing all over it.
“Fox’s breath!” He exclaimed, and took the harvesting kit from Hermione's hands.
Ducked down, they both examined the fungi and collected them with great care. When their fingers brushed, they smiled and continued working.

Hermione stroked a hand over his back as they attempted to get back up again.
“I thought you’d like to pick and process them yourself. I know you are running low in the lab. Happy birthday, my dear husband!”
A peel of surprised laughter tore from is throat, as Severus filled his hands with his witch.
“I love you.” she whispered again and again, making him feel like the luckiest man alive.
“I love you too. Thank you, I really never picked them myself before. It must have taken you a lot of time to find them.”
“Hagrid helped me a bit, thinking I needed them for research.” Hermione admitted, blushing fiercely.
“And here I thought even if I told you what day it is, you’d only wrap yourself in something lacy and be done with it.”
Severus stared at her with unguarded emotions. He still wasn’t completely used to having her to himself.
“Who says I am not wrapped in something lacy? You haven’t even taken my cloak yet…” She teased him.
On a growl, Severus took her hand and dragged her back towards the castle, disillusionment be damned.

Draco was just finishing up his patrol for the night, when he spotted a lanky redhead sneaking back towards the staircase with a tray of food in her hands.
“Out for a midnight snack, Weasley? He drawled loud enough to gain her attention.
“None of your business!” she hissed, obviously more afraid to disturb the portraits as she’d been in his presence, such as it was.
He began to say something, but stopped in his tracks as something – or someone – caught his sharp eye, approaching the castle in the night.
Ginny stepped closer to take a look herself.
“Godric’s giddy galleons, they’re so cute together!” she whispered with glee, recognizing the two figures immediately.
Hermione and Severus were sticking to the shadows, but obviously forgot to disillusion themselves as they approached to reenter the castle. Walking hand in hand, stealing little kisses along the way.
“You know?” Draco seemed a bit wary to discuss the topic of that particular couple.
“Yes...some of it, at least. Hermione gave me an ornament with memories of their wedding. I know you were there. I know...you were their witness.”
Draco stared at the witch, his calm and detached demeanor already reminding Ginny of another dark wizard. The one she just saw kissing her friend.
“If they trust you...so will I. But remember, Weasley, one slip, and your mind will be wiped like a blackboard at the end of the day.”
She nodded, offering her hand to shake on it in silence.
To their, obviously mutual surprise, the blonde took it.
Squeezed. And smirked.

“Here’s to living in the shadows, Weasley!”

Chapter Text

“I simply don’t know how to approach him!” Harry whined in frustration.
“Every time I think I have won his favor, he is all smiles and praise until I try to talk to him privately.”
He was sitting in one of the ornate chairs in Dumbledore’s office. They’d finished reviewing another one of those hideous memories about Riddle. It all went well until Dumbledore began to press him for progress on Slughorn.
“You must understand, Harry – every hour we spend breathing, going about our usual daily life, is an hour we could have spent planning Voldemort’s defeat. The war will come whether we prepare for it or not.”
“Isn’t that true…” drawled a deep voice.
Severus emerged from the shadows.
He’d been summoned for a meeting with the headmaster and found it amusing, when he could clearly see the discomfort his quiet presence had caused. Severus was listening to the conversation for only a couple of minutes, but for all Dumbledore knew, Severus could have already been standing there for an hour.

“Harry, I believe that was enough for today. I expect to see you again in two weeks, hopefully with some news on...you know. Now off to bed, pip-pip!”
Dumbledore might have fooled the boy, but Severus heard the nerves under the cheerful tones in the headmaster’s voice.
“Good night, Professor.” Harry nodded to the old wizard. His nerves however, were dancing in plain sight.
“Professor Snape,” the boy added quietly, tilting his head in what could have been either a nod, or a spasm. Who would have known.
The silence in the room persisted, as the two wizards waited to hear the doors shut close. Dumbledore stuffed his mouth with one jelly bug after another and refused to really look at his companion. Severus sat down with his eyes trained on the blackened fingers that trembled at every movement. They reminded him of the scorched twigs that remained after a fire was done swallowing a tree.

“I see the curse is spreading. How bad is it?” he said finally.
Dumbledore lifted the hand in question up and tried to rotate it slowly. He didn’t manage to get much more movement out of it. His silvery gaze roamed the black tendrils that now snaked their way up over his bony forearm and disappeared under the purple sleeve.
“Honestly, Severus, if it weren’t for the strict regime of ointments and potions you have devised, instructed the elves to keep up the daily care...I would probably be dead already.”
Now, the old wizard finally looked at Severus.
“Some days, I wake up thinking how this world would go on today without me in it, Severus. And I find myself at ease knowing you are more than able to take over once I am gone.”
Severus regarded the man quietly. He wasn’t falling for this frail oldie’s act even though it burned him to remain stoic in this kind of conversation. Too bad you never knew what was a part of manipulation when talking with Dumbledore.
“I don’t want to ‘take over’, as you’ve so eloquently put it. Minerva is next in line to become the headmistress. I will not change my mind.”
“I am afraid you will not have much choice. Neither will I, in the end. Once I am gone, it will be necessary to convince Voldemort you are his most loyal servant. How will you solidify your position if you don’t take over the institution he was obsessed with for decades?” Dumbledore may have spoken calmly, but the intensity in his words made Severus’s skin prickle.
“Albus…”
“How will you protect Hogwarts? The students?! Minerva cannot protect them if she has to keep the war at the gates. Merlin’s dancing gummy bears!” the headmaster swore under his breath.
“P-protect Hogwarts? That is your reason to keep me here after you are gone?”
Severus felt the floor shift beneath his feet. He had not regarded his role in the upcoming war in such manner.
“How can you be sure there even will be a school to open in the fall? You know bloody well Voldemort will claim your death as a sound of the seventh trumpet!” Severus snarled.
“We need to make sure it opens. Those children will be safer within these walls, even if Riddle himself strides in to dictate the curriculum. We need to make sure it opens, because the children will be safer here then at home.”
Severus took the words as a blow to the abdomen. It was painful but blunt enough to keep him standing upright. He swallowed thickly. Dumbledore was, for once, right.
“It’s not fair to Minerva. I don’t like it.” he hissed.
Even if there was truth in Dumbledore’s predictions, he’d rather sleep on it and discuss it with Hermione before giving the silver eyed man the pleasure of knowing he’d conquered once more, convincing Severus to do something he really rather wouldn’t.
“It’s not about what we like, Severus. It’s about what’s best for the children.” The old wizard complied with compassion.
“The children you only now let me teach to protect themselves! I could have been teaching them for years, but no. I am only good enough to save the day when the war is upon us.”
“I hear you are being quite difficult at it, too.”
“Difficult?” Severus sputtered.
“Don’t tell me you’ve honestly expected me to soften up by teaching something other than potions!”
“I expected you to soften up because…” Dumbledore didn’t finish the sentence.
“Hermione?” Severus stood up, dumbfounded.
“You thought having a spouse will influence the way I am with students?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.” Dumbledore said placidly.
For a moment, Severus just stood there, panting. He was no longer containing his rage.
“I will not soften up. Not until I have to suffer the presence of that disgusting McLaggen and his likes in my classroom. Not until you push the responsibility for how the rest of the students will be able to defend themselves on MY shoulders!”
He was about to stride out of the office, when he turned back, his black robes swirling around his feet.
“I am telling you for the last time, the war is not an excuse to ignore the bullying we are dealing with. McLaggen is escalating.”
Dumbledore was now twirling his wand between his fingers, looking properly deflated.
“Severus...as I have told you before, malicious intent is not a solid enough evidence to have him subjected to Legillimency or having him outright expelled from DADA. If he is not causing troubles inside your classroom, he will only gain more time to cause them outside of it.”
Headmaster’s words were dripping with exasperation.
“Then expel him. From this school - entirely. He is about to start sexually harassing students. If he doesn’t get his way he will only get more violent.”
“You can’t know that.”
The glare those words had evoked was so intense it could petrify a person on the spot, Dumbledore thought.
“I do know that! I have seen it before! Do you forget who my father was?!”
Seething, Severus rubbed at his sternum. Hermione was calming him with her warmth again.
“Mark my words, Albus, before the school year is out, there will be more than intent on those boy’s hands. Think about how you’ll sleep then.”
Severus stared into Dumbledore’s eyes for another moment, then strode out.

Hermione was waiting for him in the bed, a book in hand and a face riddled with worries. Severus shrugged out of his outer robes and slid down to sit on the floor, his head resting on the foot of the bed.
A cloud of honey colored, sweet smelling curls created a curtain in front of his eyes, before he found himself staring into the molten amber of his wife’s eyes.
She kissed him sweetly, her plush lips pressing gently onto his, retreating and repeating the motion in a slow rhythm.
His wife.
There was so much sweetness, blooming inside him. Sweetness she’d planted inside him.
Severus found himself lost in her scent, her touch. All the tension seeped out of his shoulders as Hermione slid her fingers over his muscles in wide circles. When she stopped, obviously satisfied with the effect of her gentle assault on Severus, he could only tug her forward and have her landing in his lap, giggling.
“Oh, Sev.” she tried to contain some of the bubbling laughter.
They sat quietly now. Hermione wound her arms around his waist, leaning on his chest.
“Will you tell me when you’re ready? I don’t want to pressure you...too many people do that to you already.”
Severus sighed, once again feeling grateful Hermione had so much compassion and patience.
“It’s...exactly that. Pressure.”
Hermione looked up, capturing the side of his angular face in her palm.
“What does he want now?”
“He wants me to be softer in my teaching. He wouldn’t expel McLaggen…”
“Softer?! You? Has he gone completely barmy?”
Severus felt a smile tug at his lips. His brave little wife, outraged on his behalf surely was a sight to behold.
“Cormac is a menace, alright, and it sucks you can’t throw him out on his sleazy arse, but – you softening up as a professor? As he has you teaching us Defense? You are our best chance at being able to cast anything useful at all, once the war comes!”
Never before had Severus enjoyed having another one fume over his problems, his worries. He realized he quite liked it.
It was time to get the worst of it off his chest, he knew, bracing himself.
“He wants me to take over as Headmaster.” he said quietly.
Hermione went very still in his arms. She turned to him with eyes opened wide.
“What do you mean, take over?” she asked quietly.
“The curse...it’s beginning to affect his functions. He won’t get to live to see another school year.”
Hermione muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘sweet Circe and her piglets’.
“Just when I think he couldn’t possibly put you into more danger. I can see the logic of you as a spy being the best figure to take over, even in some sort of Dark regime, but…”
“But?” Severus, feeling sufficiently calm now, arched his eyebrow at her.
“The pressure of such role would be insane. I have no doubt you’d be brilliant at it, creating a safe haven in the midst of war, even if it were at your own expense. I will support you in every way I can if it comes to it...but I don’t particularly like it.”
Severus simply kissed the top of her curls affectionately.
“Thank you for being mad for me.”
She smiled at him with a warmth of a hundred suns. It went straight to his bones and made him feel like even in the darkest of times, he could hold on to her bright light. Let her guide him through the night.

He tilted her chin up, then. She was straddling his hips now, his long fingers already tracing the edges of her underwear. To please himself, to tease her.
Hermione didn’t wait. She offered her mouth, inviting him with little moans, to sink his teeth into that soft bottom lip.
Soothing the sting with his tongue, he let her flick open the buttons of his shirt, undo his trousers just enough to have his erection springing out of it’s confines. She surprised him when she only tugged her panties aside and began to sink down onto him. Severus gripped her hips and redirected his mouth to leave little licks and nips along her jaw, her throat. He clamped down on her collarbone as she finally managed to take him in entirely, wiggling her arse just for the hell of it.
“I see you found a perfect way to work off your anger…” He said quietly.
Hermione replied with a playful, sultry look. Her whiskey eyes were already hazy with lust she felt for him.
“Having your cock buried so deep inside me I don’t know where you end and I begin is the best solution for a plethora of situations.” she replied simply, snuggling closer into him as she kept rocking her hips at a leisurely pace.
His coarse black pubic hair was tickling her clit as she went, and Severus could feel her reaching her first precipice as he pushed his hips up a little, just a little, to help her hit that sweet spot that made her fall apart.
It surprised him, how quickly her clenching channel had pulled him along. Severus barely managed to wrap his arms around her and pull her into his embrace as they canted up and down to some ancient rhythm only their bodies knew.
“I...oh, Her-Hermioooonee…” he moaned into her hair, as his peak called to a consecutive one from her.
There was such softness to the way she surrendered. To the way he held on as they both shook.
“I love you, Severus…” Hermione said, her eyes barely opened.
“I want you never to forget that...Whatever happens, what ever you decide or are forced to do in this life - I love you.”
They nuzzled, keeping their heads pressed together as Severus finally managed to stand up, with Hermione gathered in his arms. It was a miracle his black trousers still clung to his hips as he bent over to place his wife on the bed with an unfathomable gentleness. Stripping down, he climbed into the bed and tangled his long limbs around Hermione, who was already halfway to sleep.
“Every day, your loves surprises me, little witch. Every day, your love saves me.” he whispered into her ear and watched her breathing even out.
He got back up about a half an hour later, resolved he wouldn’t get much sleep that night. Clad in black sleep pants, a fresh t-shirt and a thick cardigan, he went to his desk to work on some assignments that had begun to pile up.
Glancing back into the direction of the bedroom, Severus marveled at the difference this little witch had made in the way he felt, going through the daily life. Yes, he still couldn’t sleep, but his anxiety was minimal, his head was clear and his heart was full. For once, even the approaching war seemed like something he was actually able to face.
As long as his wife was beside him, Severus thought, he was able to take on the world.

On another windy excursion to Hogsmeade, Draco caught up to Hermione, who was surprisingly walking alone. It was Valentine’s day and Severus was busy brewing a fresh batch of potions that will at least prolong headmaster’s life.
“I thought today of all days he’d have you locked up in the dungeons.” Draco teased her, knowing they were well out of earshot.
“He’s been busy lately.” Hermione couldn’t be bothered.
“So I noticed. Are you in for a drink, or for shopping?”
“I need to pick up the book I got him as a gift. You?”
Now, she was smiling to herself, and for some reason that made Draco think of the little girl he met at the wedding.
Ivy.
“Hey, mind if I join you? I got an idea...if you’d help me?”
“Sure.” she shrugged.
Draco went on, explaining how he’d send a selection of fairy tales on princesses and dragons to the little girl and Hermione’s heart melted. This was supposed to be the big bad Death Eater Draco Malfoy?
Shaking her head, she not only went on to help him find the bloody book, but purchase some wrapping paper too. They transfigured a little heart shaped sticker for Draco to press inside the book, inscribed with a simple, innocent wish for Ivy to remember not all dragons ate their favorite princesses.

They left the package with a brown post owl and paid for it’s services and returned to the castle. Just before they parted ways in the Entrance Hall, Draco pulled another book out of his bag.
“I need to return this one too, I finished it in two nights.”
Hermione glanced down on one of her favorite novels about enemies who fall in love with each other...but only admit to it after having a lot of hateful sex. Chuckling, she tucked the well-worn paperback into her messenger bag and winked at the nervous blonde.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I can get you another one on Tuesday if you’d like.”
“Could you give me something that will suck me in but not...you know. Sexually?” He said quickly, as if being ashamed he wanted to read something more complex. More muggle.
“Alright. I’ll look for something suitable.”
Then she noticed Ron and Harry rounding the corner, pausing in step as they took in the way she stood by Draco.
“Go, talk to them. I have to study, anyway. And ah...happyvalentiesday.” He muttered and before Hermione could even manage a response, Draco was gone, leaving behind nothing more but a scent that could only be described as posh.

“Malfoy giving you trouble, Mione?” Ron piped up as soon as he reached her.
“No, quite the opposite.” she hugged her friends with a small, secretive smile clinging to her lips.
“You’re not dating the bloke, are you?” said Harry, obviously trying to puzzle together what was going on.
Hermione laughed out loud.
“Merlin, Harry! I am not, okay? Gods, can’t a girl go for a walk on Valentine’s day without being questioned of her intentions?!”
“Maybe we’re just sorry ‘cause you’re single and we’re not.” supplied Ron with a shrug.
“Trust me...I’m fine.”
Hermione may have shrugged him off, but a part of her quivered to cancel the disillusionment on her wedding ring. On days like this, she wanted to flung herself at Severus in public and make everyone call her Madam Snape. It was childish, of course, but the image of it pleased her none the less.

They climbed up to the Gryffindor tower, catching up. Hermione went to place her things down in her room and change into something more comfortable (thermal leggings, fluffy socks, Severus’s t-shirt and an ancient cardigan he no longer wore, but still smelled of him). She recently got into the habit of wearing his clothes to hang out in her spare time, and got her kicks out of knowing just who it belonged to while her friends remained clueless.
There was a heart shaped box of chocolates on her desk, the letters in print read ‘always on my mind’. Thinking of the lyrics to that old Elvis Presley’s tune, Hermione found herself worrying. It surprised her that Severus would leave her a gift in such a public place, it wasn’t like him. Deciding it would be best to share it with friends – a little chocolate couldn’t hurt anyone, she carried it down to the common room.
It never crossed her mind that it might not have been from Severus.
That it might have been from someone who didn’t wish her well.
That it might have been from one Cormac McLaggen.

Severus strode into the oval office that belonged to the headmaster, carrying a crate of fresh potions and medicinal salves tailored to the patient specifically.
He hated the fact that those potions took him a better part of the day to improve and brew properly. But he needed to prevent the headmaster from dwindling out too quickly.
“Oh, Severus! What would I have done without you?” Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully.
“Die.” Severus replied dryly.
That made the headmaster chuckle.
“Always so grim, my boy. Cheer up, it’s Valentine’s day!”
“Well, I cannot exactly go around celebrating it, can I? I had to leave my wife to fare on her own.”
“Why’d you do that for?”
The sheer idiocy of the question made Severus want to roll his eyes.
“First,” he ground out between his teeth, “we need her to keep up the appearance that she is in fact not spending her every waking hour in the dungeons. She can only make up so many excuses before it becomes suspicious.”
He glared at the headmaster now, who’s smile was slowly dying out.
Sweet Salazar and his little mercies.
“Second, I had to brew you these, didn’t I?”
Severus pointed to the potions that stood straight in their wooden holds, neatly arranged and labeled with his spiky handwriting.
But the old wizard got stuck on his previous argument.
“Do you think Hermione is in danger of being found out?” he asked quietly.
“Perhaps...perhaps you’d have more luck teaching her occlumency then you had with the Potter boy.”
“That goes without saying. My wife is an exceptional witch.”
There was such pride in the way Severus said that, it made Dumbledore pause and reassess the dark wizard. He had only now realized, that the man did soften. He did change. Just...not in the way he had predicted.
“She did mellow you some, after all. But your softness is for her only, isn’t it?”
Severus pinched his lips into one of his infamous scowls, and Dumbledore had to stifen another giggle. It was so much fun to rile the poor fellow like this.
“Don’t tell anyone, or I just might finish what the curse had started.” he threatened, his voice filled with darkness.
“You might as well have to, for all we know.” Dumbledore said quietly, after a beat, with a lightness in his voice that was completely unsuitable to the heaviness of the statement.

Severus had to refrain himself from swearing, when suddenly, his forearm burned with the pain of a hundred flaming blades.
“Fuck, not now!” he hissed, pressing down on his sleeve, as if that would ease the pain.
He knew Draco would feel the same stinging call, and hurry to the alcove near the Entrance Hall as they’ve agreed.
“Tom never had a neck for good timing.” Dumbledore sighed.
Severus stared daggers at him, then left without another word.

“I am off to see Voldemort.” Severus’s voice whispered in Hermione’s mind.
“I am so sorry, I wanted to spend the evening with you.”
“It’s alright, love. Just make sure you stay safe and come home to me.” she replied, pleased at how the bond between them only grew stronger since they married.
She was worried and nervous every time the Dark Lord called for him, but she was firm not to burden him with it. He had enough burdens to carry without her adding on to the load.
“I wanted to give you something special tonight.” Severus said, the disappointment in his voice palpable.
“But-you already gave me the chocolates!” Hermione managed to reply. Her eyes were trained on the reflection in the window, as they exchanged thoughts. That way was the easiest to hide any expressions that might pass her face as they did. And in that moment, everything collided.
“What chocolate?!” her husband roared in her head, as she turned to see Ron, who’d emptied more than a half of the box already, collapse onto the floor.

“Oh Gods, I’ve been such a fool.” she whispered aloud, but Severus could still feel her.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“I didn’t touch it – but Ron demolished a big portion of what was in the box. He collapsed...we need to get him to the Hospital wing!”
She almost repeated her words out loud, when Severus’s voice redirected her.
“Poison. Get Slughorn. A bezoar. Quickly! I – fuck – I need to sever the connection now.” He said in obvious distress.
“Okay. I love you.” she whispered back, and knelt down next to Ron. She remembered from what Madam Pomfrey had told her about poisonings, getting the antidote to stop the venomous ingredients from spreading was the priority. Speed was of the essence.

“Harry – we need Slughorn!”
Her friend just stared at her in confusion, until it dawned on him.
“Poison, of course! We need that thing from the goat’s stomach. A boar-something?”
“A bezoar.” Hermione supplied, trying her best to levitate the tall redhead.
Harry supported him, realizing their friend was not yet completely passed out, but more like in a sluggish, drunken state.
They half carried, half dragged him through the corridors, not daring to use too much of magic as Hermione swore it could accelerate his symptoms.
Harry knocked on the ornate door of Slughorn’s private chambers.
“Professor, an emergency!” Harry yelled.
The door cracked open to reveal a slightly drunk Slughorn rocking on his feet.
“Harry, my boy! What’s with all the conundrum?”
“Quickly, Sir. Ron was poisoned, we need a bezoar. I assumed you have one, being a proper potions master and all. Please, Sir.”
Hermione tried her best to hold Ron up as he gurgled and began to foam around the mouth, willing her friend to finish the conversation quickly.
“Of-of course, of course. Bring him in!” The old man finally caught up to the situation and opened the door wider.
While Harry and Hermione dragged Ron inside, Slughorn searched his cabinet like a mad man.
“Ah, there it is!” he exclaimed in victory, holding the spongy looking stone out to Harry.
“Thank you, Sir.” Harry muttered, and held the redheads head in position for Hermione to shove the bezoar down his throat.
Ron began to cough violently, caught between choking and spitting out more of the foam.
“A nasty poison that was, that much I can tell you.” said Slughorn quietly.
“I believe professor Snape will have more luck determining what exactly caused the reaction. But this is dark, very dark. Not of your doing, is it, Harry?” the old wizard’s voice trembled.
“I trust you would not use your brewing skills for something so malicious.”
“No, Sir.” Harry said quietly.
“We better get him to the Hospital wing now.” Hermione said after the two wizards fell silent.
The box of chocolates was safely tucked into her pocket, placed under stasis and shrunken to fit. Suddenly, she could not wait for her husband to return to the castle.
If her instincts were correct, McLaggen just got a lot closer to harming her.

Severus was on his knees, bowing before the Dark Lord, harsh white lights casting sharp shadows over even sharper looking surfaces.
The malicious red eyes glinted with giddiness as the wizard searched Severus’s mind.
Severus was breathing shallowly, rooted deeply in the dark alternative of his persona. There was nothing but carefully crafted lies, neatly organized for the Dark Lords perusal.
The potions he brewed for Dumbledore were transformed into poisons. The harsh way he commanded a classroom colored with malicious intent to intimidate rather then to instruct. Then, Voldemort found a soft spot. His latest creative outburst.
“Creating new spells for me, Severusss?” Voldemort drawled in his usual hissing voice.
Severus could feel the heads of the rest of the Death Eaters present snap into attention. From the corner of his eye, he could see Rowle and Yaxley. But the one closes to him, was the dark Russian wizard, Dolohov.
The first two only looked surprised.
The latter looked interested.
“I am...developing a spell...for unsupported flight.” Severus slowly pushed the words out, hoping his mental barricades will hold the Dark Lord’s prodding.
Luckily, the idea alone was enough to have Voldemort ending his mind-searching session to clap in delight. Again, much like a spoiled child would at the promise of a new toy.
“How could you manage that?” muttered Dolohov, and was quickly silenced by one of Voldemort’s hexes.
“You will ressssstrain your curiosssity, Dolohov. With your potential, however, you could usse some of Ssseverus’s knowledge. Who knows, maybe with a little tutoring, you’d be able to give me more spells like your purple whip cursssse.”
Severus quietly prayed he wouldn’t have to take on the responsibility of another Death Eater’s success, or failure.
“Finish it!” The Dark Lord commanded.
“I want that spell done until the end of the month. Those who will prove themselves worthy, might just earn the right to learn it.”
Severus dared to look up now, a curtain of his black hair still covering most of his face. A defense mechanism that remained with him since his youth served him right in such situations.

“I called you here to discuss a more pressing matter.” Voldemort said conversationally.
“When Draco finally manages to fix the cabinet, we will take over the Hogwarts, Dumbledore be damned. Which got me thinking, some staff changes will be in order.”
Severus willed himself not to pale, not to move a muscle on his stony face. Little breaths helped him keep the heartbeat low, and panic stifled.
“What do you suggest, my Lord?” he said softly instead.
Voldemort’s eyes glinted with undiluted mischief.
“The Carrows.”
“The Carrows?” Severus repeated.
“What would you have them teach, exactly?”
The Carrow twins were not the brightest nor the strongest among the Death Eater ranks. But what worried Severus more, was that they were impulsive, cruel and incredibly gullable. The perfect minions to do the Dark Lord’s bidding.
The perfect minions to torture and threaten children.
“I believe Alecto will do well to teach the little chits about blood purity and having proper ideals. Her brother, however...could be more of a paper figure. Someone to make sure the school is run by more proper rules.”
Severus shuddered at the thought.
The Carrow’s couldn’t be put into such positions. If he understood correctly, the older of the twins would be the next headmaster.
And so he found himself no longer standing at the crossroads. There was only one path leading ahead and it wasn’t the one he wanted to take.

“If I may, my Lord?” Severus asked for permission to speak, hoping his previous success with the new spell earned him some good fortune.
He could hear some of the Death Eater’s gasp. Draco clenched his jaw and looked up as if in prayer. Not everyone was allowed to share their opinion with the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale.
Voldemort held his gaze for a few torturous beats, before nodding sharply.
Severus squared his shoulders.
“My Lord is wise to restructure the curriculum. The rules. However, the Carrows are new to the inner workings of such an institution. Perhaps, if I may be so bold to make a suggestion, the twins would serve the new headmaster better as the eyes and ears, reinforcing the new order. That way, the triangle of power would have more success in subduing the rest of the staff.” Severus said slyly, trying his best to remain polite.
“And who would you suggest the next headmaster to be, Severus?”
The dark wizard felt his chin lifted forcefully to look into Voldemort’s eyes.
The red eyes with a look that told Severus he already knew the answer. The look that let the relief flood through his system, because the calculating bastard obviously planned for this all along.
“Me, my Lord.”

Chapter Text

Hermione sat on the high stool Severus transfigured for her the first time she entered his private potions laboratory. It thrilled her immensely to watch his hands fly over the stirring rods, slice and crush the ingredients before adding them to the bubbling cauldron with a precision of an artist.
There was a quiet symphony to the way he moved when he brewed. No useless clatter, even the sound of his knives chopping were silent as if the knife assaulted the air instead of a solid substance. His movements were a dance only he knew the steps to, elegant and just a little over dramatic.
The only light in this room was different from the ones in their underground quarters. Those windows were huge, ornate and beautiful, as if the castle tried to apologize for the gloomy light by creating spacious masterpieces.
No, the window in the laboratory was much smaller and completely unadorned, placed close to the ceiling to allow only the necessary light to filter in the room. Severus used the candles he’d make himself for lighting the lanterns in order not to jeopardize the sensitive potency of potions ingredients with magic pollution.

If it were any other situation, Hermione would have used this opportunity to tell her husband how much she loved him. How he mesmerized her with his hypnotic presence. Knowing his life story now, Hermione understood how undervalued he was growing up, how praise and love were not something he’d ever expect or take for granted.
But now, Severus was busy dissecting the puzzle that laid hidden in the chocolates. Hermione, Harry and pretty much everyone else who knew of the incident suspected McLaggen was the one behind the attempted poisoning.
“They were not dipped – that would have been tedious. He must have injected the chocolates with the poison.” Severus muttered, slicing another one in half.
Ron was recovering in the infirmary. His condition was stabilized, but required at least an attempted antidote. Hermione knew that despite his obvious dislike for the redheaded boy, Severus now felt grateful it was him who ate the chocolate instead of his little witch.
“This doesn’t make any sense! Why would someone use both crushed nightshade AND the powdered rose quartz?!”
“You were able to dissect the components of the potion?” Hermione simply stared. It was hard to hold back her academic curiosity at such a marvelous deed.
“Yes. I am certain my dissolution was flawless. The ingredients are not adding up. In this instance we have two of them that are used in lust potions but never combined…” 

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes fixed on the way he scribbled his notes on a piece of parchment with haste.
“What would happen if they were combined?” she asked timidly.
“That would have been wasteful. A complete madness. Even in minimal doses their opposing nature would render the potion useless if not poisonous.”
Silence fell over them as the realization broke out on Severus’s complicated face like dawn breaking over the horizon.
“That bloody imbecile didn’t have the decency to brew it right!” he exclaimed.
Hermione sat still as Severus took another sample of the chocolate and dissolved it in a small cauldron, adding distilled water and powdered charcoal. The contents hissed as if he’d pour holy water on hell fire. Black smoke emerged, smelling awfully like withered roses and overly sweetened sherry, with underlying hints of sweat and musky odor.
“McLaggen barely made my class every year. He had the tendency to go overboard with ingredients that fueled the potion’s potency. How in the world he got it in his head that he was capable of brewing a successful sample of Musogoryev’s lust potion is beyond me.”
Severus was fuming now. Hermione frowned at the fact that McLaggen obviously knew about a potion she’d never even heard of.
“You forgot about him messing up his stirring patterns.” she added absentmindedly.
“Severus, why haven’t I heard of this potion before?”
He smirked at her, happy to have found a blind spot in that vast mind of hers.
“It’s forbidden, Hermione. If you hadn’t read a very specific book on binding potions from the restricted section, you would’ve never heard of it.”
“What does it do?”
Severus went a little too quiet. She sat down on the work bench next to him and pulled his hand into her lap, traced a finger over the golden band on his ring finger.
“Severus...I deserve to know what he tried to do to me.” she said finally.
“The potion - it binds the person who absorbs it against their free will. Binds by lust. The last ingredient is five drops of sweat from the person who they want to bind their victim to, their hormones creating the personal component. In plain speech; the one absorbing the potion falls into a sort of heat, is overcome with lust for one specific person, whether they actually feel attracted is of no importance. The spell was devised by a Russian potioneer about a hundred and fifty years ago in order to make the female slaves more...willing to comply.”
Hermione shuddered in disgust.
To think she almost ate the chocolates containing a small amount of McLaggen’s sweat made her want to throw up. She stubbornly refused to form any more thoughts on how this could have effected her if the potion was properly brewed.
“How do we create an antidote?” she asked instead, desperate to focus her mind on something else. Anything else, really.
“We will take the fennel tea as a base as it supports digestive problems. Add in some more ground charcoal to bind the toxins from the system, something to balance out the hormones…” Severus trailed off, scribbling furiously with one of his black quills.
Already at home even in this sacred place of his creations, Hermione prepared another brewing station, a small brass cauldron, the wooden stirring rod and even peeked over his shoulder to see which ingredients to line up. Severus traced his hand over her back as he passed her in the narrow space between the counters, his fingers squeezing her hip with affection.
“You can start with the base, I will prepare the ingredients.” he said gently, already knowing his wife needed to feel like she is somehow a part of the solution.
He never brewed in tandem, it was too tedious and usually, Severus craved this retreat from his real life. Ever since he was younger, brewing was a sanctuary for his mind and soul, the sensations accompanying the art of potioneering a substitute for the lack of familiar scents or sounds to hold onto when at home. But Hermione wasn’t just anybody. She was his wife, and as they had in the kitchen, they found a good rhythm with potions, too.

Not long after, the cauldron bubbled quietly and Severus stepped away to examine their work. When properly simmered, the potion will be precisely what Severus had hoped for.
A perfect cure for the imperfect poison. 

Now his wife was bending over the counter top to wipe away the last smudges of charcoal and the curve of her back made Severus crave a distraction of his own. He bent over Hermione, covering her petite frame as he pinned her in place.
He could feel the pleasant shiver as it coursed through her entire being. His little witch liked to be subdued. Overpowered.
Gods, she fit him perfectly.
“I think you should repay me for my efforts, little witch.”
He slid into one of their little games. He kept his voice low, already pressing his erection to the softness of her curves.
Hermione moaned.
“What...kind ooooof...p-payme-ment?”
“You still owe me some for the potion ingredients you stole in your second year...”
Oh, if she could only see the mischievous smirk blooming on his sharp features.
“...you really should repay me by giving me some of your own.”
His hand roamed up her inner thigh, cupping her.
“Today’s lesson was about potion ingredients one can collect from a human body. I am certain you can provide me with at least three of those.”
Severus could feel her folds contract just a little under his fingers when his voice took on the professorial tone. It turned him feral.
“I shall have your slick, your spit and your tears, witch!”
He tore off her underwear in one swift motion, pocketed them.  He summoned three glass vials and put them down where she could see them.
Hermione was laying face down, sprawled over the wooden surface, her bare heart-shaped arse on full display as her skirt was flipped over. Severus pushed her knees wider apart, as his eyes feasted on the sight of her.
“You’re so gorgeous, all needy and spread out for my pleasure.”
Trailing a single calloused finger up her inner thigh, he watched her tremble. Her folds were already flushed and glistening, her breathing just a little labored.
Severus let her steep in anticipation for another heartbeat, before he began sliding his fingertips over her clit, around her sensitive labia. He made her plead with need for more, then pushed his fingers inside her.
One, then two, then three.
The exscuisite stretch made her wail, pushing her bottom back towards him in search for more, always just a little more.
Severus watched his fingers disappear inside her dripping folds at a punishing pace. He could feel Hermione edge closer to her completion, the sweetest peak of sensations almost overwhelming her. He knew now, after two months of playing with her body, just which pressure points to use when he wanted his witch to squirt.
And so he did.
“Almost there, little witch. Give in to me. That’s it…” His seductive voice purred inside her mind as she moaned and muttered incoherently.
“Fuck, Sev, I’mgonnaa….aaaaah!”
Her throaty purr became a high pitched squeal as her back arched in final surrender.
Severus wandlessly directed the liquid gushing out of her into the first vial, never looking away from the glorious sight of her pulsing center.
It didn’t take him more than a couple of seconds to stopper the vial and unfasten his robes, his belt. He pushed inside her with one precise stroke, releasing a tormented sound of his own. 

Fuck, it felt good to have her scorching heat envelop him so completely. He reached around her, supporting himself with one hand while the other slid around her neck, forcing her to open her mouth just a little wider.
Hermione sought out his fingers and sucked on them, keeping them pressed to her tongue as Severus rocked into her from behind. He was so deep she could feel him press on her womb, but the magnificent sensation of being full to the brim made her whine with pleasure instead of pain. 

Matching the way his fingers fucked her throat with the way his cock slid in and out of her, Hermione could do little else then give in to the pleasure he was offering. She was going to come again, soon.
But Severus realized her chin was already dripping with saliva, so he repeated the previous process and caught some of her saliva into the vial before stoppering in. He might have slowed his pace some, but he never stopped moving inside her.
It made Hermione squirm. She always had a soft spot for his competence.
Then, Severus pulled out just enough to flip her over, before making his way back in.
The look in his eyes, Hermione noticed, was entranced.
Entranced, and just a little dangerous.
Wrapping one hand around her throat, he pressed down on her windpipe as he fucked her at a maddening speed. Hermione was struggling for air, pleasure coursing through her system, coiling in her belly as her vision began to blur. The pressure became too much to bear.
She screamed his name when she fell apart around him, the sight of her contorting face pulling him over the edge just alongside her.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she pulsed around him, the hand that choked her now gently cupping her face.
Hermione shook with silent sobs, overwhelmed to the point that almost frightened her. It would frighten her, if it weren’t for the gentle way Severus was now cooing to her, kissing her cheek, her forehead, the corner of her lips. She didn’t even register when he spelled her tears away, the unstoppered vial placed safely into a wooden stand.
Severus’s only focus was the little witch that trembled under him, needing his love to calm her down.
“My pretty little love…” he whispered reverently as he nuzzled against her.
“I feel like I would fall apart without you, sweet wife of mine. You’re my everything.”
Her arms came around him, gently stroking his hair. She didn’t say anything. With the bond transmitting every feeling and sensation between them, she didn’t need to.
Severus slid out of her and Hermione whimpered at the loss of him. It always made her feel just a little sad when their bodies parted. She watched him turn off the burner and put away the vials, wipe the counter with a few well practiced movements.
The potion was left to cool down, and so they returned to the living room. They moved quietly now, their fingers laced together. Severus wrapped his wife into a blanket and laid with her on the sofa, enjoying the calming silence as the fire crackled in the hearth. He could feel Hermione slowly drift into sleep and marveled at the way her head rested on his chest.
In that moment, Severus realized for the first time in his life, he was happy. Truly, deeply happy.
And that, in itself was a miracle.
A miracle he was terrified to lose. 

About two hours later, a small crowd gathered around Ron’s bed in the Hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was not happy about it, but no amount of withering looks she sent Dumbledore made any difference.
Hermione was about to administer the potion under the watchful eyes of the matron, while the onlookers stood by. There was Severus, and much to his surprise, Slughorn as well. Not sure whether is was professional curiosity or the actual concern keeping him in attendance, Severus tried to put up with his exuberant presence. Harry stood by the Headmaster, looking worried. Seeing the boy that was the closest thing he’d ever have to a brother, lying in the hospital bed, didn’t bode well with him. 
The last one to join the party was Ron’s girlfriend Lavender. She too, didn’t take the situation well. It seemed that she was all over Ron when he was in good shape, cracking jokes and snogging her in the dark corners of the castle. But now when he was down, she didn’t quite know how to react. Hermione decided piecing together a psychoanalysis of her classmate was not her cup of tea.

With a steady hand, she pried Ron’s mouth open and began to pour the contents of the first vial down his throat.
One was to rouse him.
And he did wake, slowly squinting at his surroundings, reaching for his forehead as if hungover.
Hermione made him drink the second dosage, that one that would sufficiently allow him to get rid of the toxins still swirling in his system.
The boy squirmed and in a matter of minutes, began to sweat buckets.
Severus smirked. He would bet diarrhea was next, as soon as he began eating again. All in the name of good health, of course.
The third dosage, Ron drank alone. It was meant to stabilize the effects of the potion on the body, allowing it to settle to it’s normal biorhythm.
Severus had of course, measured the amount of potion administered to the approximate body mass and height. Hermione was still completely fascinated by the entire process, from dissolving the poisoned chocolate, to creating the antidote and considering the best way to administer it.

She was always so bound to what she’d read somewhere, or to simply layer the knowledge into creation. Like beads on a string.
But this? This was more than that. This was art.
Hermione moved away from Ron’s bedside, catching herself in the last second before she’d reach for Severus. Now she awkwardly stood beside Harry, not really sure how to go on.
“You did it well. If you ever changed your mind about your future career plans, you would make a great healer.”
Severus was in her head again, praising her, trying to calm her nerves.
“Thank you...I know you mean it, but it just feels off somehow, being like this. I hate hiding us. I want to stand beside you.”
Hermione blushed, realizing how whiny she sounded, hoping no one would notice.

But the attention was no longer on her, anyway. Ron began asking for food and Lavender was quick on her feet, grabbing the bowl of broth the Mediwitch brought it. Madam Pomfrey frowned, while Dumbledore and Slughorn barely suppressed their chuckles.
“Here, Won-won. I will help you get better. Open up!”
The moment might have been sweet, if it weren’t for the audience that looked like they were competing in who’d be able to hold in the laughter.
Much to Ron’s disadvantage, the girl really sounded a lot like his own mother at the moment. And as a boy on the verge of manhood, he didn’t like that at all. He liked the coddling just fine, but...not in public.
“Lav, I can bloody eat on my own. I just talk to my friends for a bit?” Still groggy, he unknowingly pressed on one of Lavenders sore spots.
She always feared his friends came first, and didn’t like it one bit. She had her own needs and insecurities driving her to be just a tad too self-absorbed to understand.
Huffing out a breath, the busty blonde let the spoon fall down with a dramatic clatter. Her hair flew like a golden curtain as she spun and stomped towards Hermione.
Stopping just a half a step before knocking into her, she spat the words over her shoulder back at Ron.
“Talk to them all you like, Ronald. They’re the reason you got hurt in the first place.”
She left with her nose stuck high up in the air, slamming the door as she exited.
“Perhaps we should leave, as well. Now that Mr. Weasly is properly taken care of...”
Dumbledore ushered the other two professors towards the massive door. Severus didn’t look back at Hermione. But she could still feel him brush against her conscious, reminding her she is loved and protected. It helped her relax. They would be together again, when the night falls.

Harry was looking at her with those lake green eyes. Looking, as if there was something different about her, something he couldn’t quite point to.
“It’s not true, you know…” Ron piped up.
“You two are not the reason I am here. I am where I am because someone is trying to do something vile, and because I was too greedy to stop eating that bloody chocolate even through it’s taste was wickedly foul.”
He gulped down some of the broth, before he continued.
“But I definitely wouldn’t be here alive and well, if it weren’t for the two of you. Especially you, Mione. I do remember some of it. You immediately knew what to do.”
Looking pale, Ron’s face contorted. He was trying to be brave as he talked on.
“I am sorry. For the summer, and for causing a rift between the three of us afterwards…”
He looked sincere now, as he locked his gaze on Hermione.
“I feel lousy really. I know you spend most of your time with your parents and Ivy now, or studying with Malfoy and Snape of all people...I still dont like that, by the way."
Hermione marveled at the amount of words he was able to speak while he never actually stopped stuffing his mouth.
"But I would really like us to get back to how we were, you know. The three of us against the world." 
"I would like that too." Harry said. 
"For all it is worth, I am sorry too." The boy averted his green eyes.
"We were both gits, taking you for granted, Mione. And I am not just saying that because now when the Easter is over I will actually have to study some myself." 
All three of them chuckled at that. It was well known the boys hardly did their schoolwork in the spring without Hermione berating them. 
"I can feel the changes. The war, it is like I can feel it approaching. The nightmares, the scar...it is all getting worse." 
Rubbing a palm over his scar, Harry looked up at Hermione. 
"I know things are different now. But I want the two of you beside me when the times comes for me to face him." He said finally, suddenly sounding a lot older than sixteen. 
"No place else for me, mate." Ron said with enthusiasm. 
"Yeah..." Hermione complied. But the boys didnt notice the way she said it. Noncommittal and just a little weary. 
Because in that moment, Rons stomach gurgled with a loud, almost inhuman sound, and the boys freckled face grimaced in pain. 
"I need to..." was all he managed to say before he dashed for the nearest toilet. 
"Is it normal for Ron to have...diarrhea?" Hermione immediately reached out to her husband, annoyed and startled and disgusted.

Somewhere the other side of the castle, a potions master laughed quietly. 

Chapter Text

A pair walked down the path in the park. It was raining. They huddled under the umbrella, hardly big enough to cover them both. The man had black hair and wore a weathered leather jacket and washed out jeans, that clung to his hips as if they were tailored for him alone. The curly haired woman held on to his arm, wrapped in a burgundy red coat and brown lace up boots, her freckled face barely peeking over the thickly knit scarf.
There were no walkers for them to meet, no cyclists to pass by them narrowly. The quiet trees were their only witness as they walked down the winding path. And that is why for that little while, they felt like it was only the two of them in this great wide world.
For a little while, it was just Severus and Hermione and the rain.
It was so precious for them to just be, out in plain daylight. Like any other couple, holding hands and stealing kisses as they slowly made their way across the street to spend a Sunday with her parents.

This time, the door flew open before Severus even managed to knock. Jean pulled him in for a hug, and to his surprise, even David reached around him with one arm, patting him on the back. Hermione’s dad might not have known Severus’s full story, but a lot like his daughter he was a sharp, observant and perceptive man. It didn’t take long for him to realize his son-in-law had a troubled past. Busting with fatherly affection, David was determined to mend at least some of that by being a positive figure in Severus’s life.
Hermione beamed as she and Jean took in the sight of closeness between their husbands.
“Oh, it feels like you haven’t been around to visit us for ages. Come, let’s drink some tea and catch up.” Jean said as she ushered everyone in the direction of the living room.
Feeling at ease, nestled on the sofa while Hermione’s parents took the armchairs, Severus absorbed the warmth and comfort of this place like a sponge. Everything here called to him. It felt soft and comfortable and safe.
It felt like home.

He let the conversation roll, listened to Hermione bubbling with pride as she told them how Severus created the antidote from scratch and the only thing going through his mind was, he had a family to look after now. He had a family he will without a doubt had to protect in the near-future.
Severus lived without feeling like he belonged anywhere in this world before. Before Hermione, no one – not Slytherin, nor the Death Eaters, nor the Order, and certainly not his parents – no one made him feel this sense of being in exactly the right place, with the right people.
Frank did, sometimes. Not everyday, just here and there. But Severus lost him, too.
He had come to terms with his anxiety over loosing all he was finally allowed to have. It was a normal reaction, especially with the war brewing. With all the reports on people dying in tragic accidents Severus knew were even more tragic because they were not accidents, not really.
What no one knew, no one but Hermione anyway, was how Severus sabotaged those attacks every once in a while, when he caught wind of them early enough. Disillusioned, he’d hit his fellow Death Eaters with a confundus charm, so they would return back to the Manor not knowing what happened. Or he’d tamper with their intentions, so they would only hurt, not annihilate their target. If Voldemort would punish them as a result, all the better.

Severus only rarely leaked the information about the upcoming attack to the Order. There was too much risk of him being exposed as the source. Too much risk of the fight going awry because truth be told – the Order usually came bursting in with the subtlety of a raging bull.

He would come back to Hermione late in the night, finding her curled up in his bed. He would rouse her with kisses and pry her limbs apart to make love with her. He would loose himself in the taste of her, in the torturous slow thrust as their tongues danced, in her trembling sighs as she fell apart under him. Severus would watch her face in the darkness, as the pleasure pulsed through her. Drink in the sight of her swollen lips, the freckles on her nose as she scrunched it, with her eyebrows first drawn together then flying up. He would let himself go, fill her up with his seed then stay buried deep inside her as they slowly fell asleep.

David was observing him quietly.
Until now, he listened to his daughter joyous rambling, satisfied with her glowing face. She was happy with Severus, that much was obvious. But his knowing eyes caught the sight of worry etched into the corners of his son-in-law’s angular face.

Much later, when the teacups were empty and Hermione left with her mother to help her in the kitchen, David invited Severus to sit down with him, a gleaming wooden chessboard already set in place, alongside with two tumblers of whiskey.
“Let’s spend some time together, son. Maybe you could tell me what’s weighing down on you while I try to beat you at a game or two.”
Severus quirked his eyebrow at the blunt, straightforward approach and sat down. He hadn’t unburdened himself to another man ever since Frank died. What surprised him more was that he actually craved it. It wasn’t easy for Severus to trust, there was something so calmly persistent and familiar about David, he found himself entertaining the idea.

David moved his first piece over the chessboard.
“Is it about the teaching? God knows I wouldn’t stand for any nonsense if I had to do what you’ve been doing for years. I nearly made my apprentices cry and quit their careers a couple of times.”
Severus chuckled, trying to imagine it. There were so many surprising similarities between Hermione’s father and him.
“But not Jean?” he dared ask, as they moved their pieces across the board.
“Not Jean.” David said with a small wistful smirk.
“I think I fell in love with her the first time she made a mistake. Do you know how she handled it? Instead of being frightened by my harsh reaction, she stood up to me. And smiled while putting me into my place.”
Severus could only imagine a younger Jean smiling softly while she stood her ground and knew exactly where another one of Hermione’s traits came from.

The pawns on the chessboard moved and the dial on the clock turned. Severus found himself sharing more and more of what burdened him. How it felt impossible to teach the students how to protect themselves or attack if necessary in a space of a few months. How the Headmaster was dwindling in health and character, relying on his potions to prolong his inevitable death. How he refused to do anything about McLaggen, who was obviously the person behind the attacks on Hermione.
David nodded and played on, offering nothing more than a sympathetic ear. When they finished their fifth round of chess, Severus had beaten him at three games out of five. The smell of stuffed chicken was wafting through the house.
“For all it’s worth, Severus, I think you’re about to break yourself in half doing what is right. Not just by Hermione, but by everyone. It’s easy enough to see my daughter is happy and feels safe by your side. I have no doubt when the time comes, you will be able to catch McLaggen. That boy will out himself as he escalates further. On top of that, you’re already doing your best to make sure the students will be prepared and protected.” David paused, looking straight into Severus’s eyes.
“The rest is simply not up to you, son. Please, don’t burden yourself with it...a person who is carrying all the weight of the world on his shoulders can hardly be swift and agile when the time comes to turn around and strike down the opponent.”
He went quiet for a moment, but knowing the man a little by now, Severus waited.
“Jean and I have been talking, you know. About closing the practice for a while. We have enough money to afford that. Because I think it would be wise for us to leave the country for the duration of the war. We can hardly protect ourselves from what those dark wizards will try to do to family like ours.”
“That...would be very wise of you.” Severus said with a gravelly voice.
The memories of how he lost everyone he cared for in the first war were trying to break free inside his head.
He was going to say more, but Hermione came in.
“Mom says dinner is ready.” she said simply, her warmth already seeping into the cold creeping into Severus’s bones.
Then her sunny smile faltered.
“You two were talking about war, haven’t you?” she asked with a quiet voice.
“Yes, honeypot. We were.” David said simply, watching how her hand suddenly stroked Severus’s back in a soothing pattern.
“And we shall talk more of it as we dine.”

The meal was pleasant.
Hermione’s worries were somewhat soothed when her parents told her they were thinking about going on a trip, a sort of early retirement before the war began. No one said the word hiding, but they all thought it.
“So you think Australia is far enough?” Jean said after finishing her plate.
“I think I should bewitch your mind to believe you are someone else entirely, so to speak. Harder to find if you wear a different name, have no memories of Hermione...and me.” Severus thought out loud, a sight reserved only for special occasions.
He didn’t notice how everyone else at the table stopped to stare.
“Could you do that?” David said with wide eyes.
“Can you make it temporary?” asked Hermione.
“You realize memory charms are known to be irreversible?”
“Yes...but I have...ideas.” Severus replied in a calming tone, knowing his wife only meant well. There was no need for him to prickle at her question.
“We would be very grateful, if you could look into that.” David interjected.

Hermione’s heart was still heavy as she carried the empty plates back to the kitchen.
“Oh, honeypot, look!” Jean stood by the sink, pointing at something she saw through the window.
“There he is! This is that poor homeless man, who always stops to smell the flowers. What a poor thing, standing out there in this rain.”
Hermione was told about this occurrence a couple of times now, a beggar who made rounds every now and then, always stopping at her parent’s garden gate to enjoy the flowers. Curious, Hermione stepped closer to her mother to get a peek.
And screamed.
“Severus!” she called out, her blood turning to ice.
“Kitchen, quickly!”
Severus came bursting into the room with long strides, and David right after him.
One quick glance at the person standing at the garden gate made him choke down a string of curses.
That was no regular beggar coming to smell the flowers.
It was Greyback.

“He can’t see us.” he reassured Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I take it that man is dangerous, then?” David asked with a voice that made Hermione’s heart clench. She’d never before heard her father speak with a tone that said he was able to kill in cold blood if necessary.
“Yes. His name is Fenerir Greyback. He is a werewolf and a known supporter of the Dark Lord.” Severus clarified.
“How often has he come around lately?”
Jean stopped to think.
“I saw him on Friday, and before that, on Tuesday, and...on last Saturday.”
“That is way more often as you told me before, mom.” Hermione said with a worried look.
“He too is growing impatient.” Severus said.
“I must conclude he realized the wards are too strong for him to break through, so he waits for a chance to catch you in transit. Or to get you to come out and talk to him.”
“And to think I was foolish enough to think I could go out and give him one of our spare umbrellas.” Jean looked positively shocked.
David looked Severus dead in the eyes.
“We no longer have a couple of months to pack up and leave, do we?”

Hermione sat in her library at the cottage, watching Severus pace back and forth. He was lost in contemplation, desperately trying to puzzle together a way to get her parents to safety as soon as possible.
“They shouldn’t sell the house.” he broke the silence.
“If they need money, we can provide for them. But the house should remain as it is. With the lights turning off and on, it will take longer for the Death Eaters to realize they’ve escaped.”
Hermione was chewing on her lip as she turned the words over in her head.
“That’s generous of you, love. But I think even without the house, they’ll manage. But how will we get them out to the airport? It will be hard enough to have them locked up in the house until they leave.”
Severus looked worried.
“I hope they understood me when I explained they can have everything, food and all – brought in by Posy or by us. I don’t want them leaving the house. I cannot protect them if they leave the warded perimeter.”
Hermione smiled at him reassuringly.
“I am certain they will take your words to heart. They think a great deal of you, you know.”
That made Severus flash her one of his crooked smiles. The way David questioned him on safety protocols, the way Jean hugged him before they departed...it filled his heart. Fixed a couple of broken pieces in his soul.
The plan was to move Hermione’s parents in a space of one week, two at most. That would fall on the week before Easter holidays. The Grangers were not to leave the house until then, settle their dentistry and make the arrangements for traveling to Australia. For now, they chose to buy a larger camper and move around, explore the country and it’s vast landscape. In case they decided to settle somewhere, they’d send a postcard to Violet.

Hermione called her godmother and it was settled - that family would be moving away as well. If anyone was watching the Granger residence, the likely have noticed Violet and Ivy coming and going, not to mention that Ivy was a muggleborn witch. They were the perfect targets.
Violet mentioned they’d have a bit more trouble relocating, because she and Ezra didn’t have that much money to go on, so wherever they moved to, they’d be forced to find a job as soon as possible.
Severus was adamant he’d at least give them some money to get them settled. The thing was, Severus knew deeply how it was like, to be powerless, hungry and scared. He didn’t want that kind of life for the people who stood at their wedding.
“We will apparate them here before taking them to the airport the muggle way. I can buy a car and we will drive them, it will raise no suspicion whatsoever.”
Hermione chuckled, relieved to feel a little lighter at the image of Severus buying a car.
“It has to be black and burly, of course. A Land Rover.” she said quickly.
“What, the car? Madam Snape, are you mocking me?”
“Merely making an observation, Mister Snape…” she teased him lightly.
“Bloody cheek!” he feigned astonishment as he dived for her, pulling her up from her place on the armchair.
Hermione stumbled, because she sat in a certain position so long her legs went numb. Severus tried to catch her, but the next minute, they were both rolling on the thick carpet, laughing.
Laughter soon turned to quiets sobs, as Hermione let the tears of pressure and anxiety roll off her cheeks.
“You’re so bloody calm about all this. I hate that I am not able to be as calm as you.”
“We’ll get you there. It’ll be easier when you know they are far away, someplace safe.” he kissed her ear to punctuate his words.
“I will teach you occlumency, so you will always be in control over what thoughts swirl inside your mind.” he continued, as his lips pressed against her temple.
“We can practice dueling or wandless magic in case you ever need it.”
Now, his lips were brushing her cheekbone.
“My beautiful wife. Such a powerful young witch. I need to make sure you are able to use the full potential of what is inside you, love.”
Severus finally claimed her mouth, kissing her breathless. He swirled his tongue around hers, stroking, savoring. Lost, he was utterly lost in the sensation of being able to take her, to claim her with his body.
Soon, he was spelling the clothes away as he usually did, not having the patience to fumble with all the buttons and clasps. Severus watched Hermione kneel, the glow of the fire from the hearth painting her skin with golden hues and violet shadows. He summoned a pillow for his head and laid down, urging her to come up.
“Sit on my face, will you. I didn’t have dessert today.” He said with a husky voice, his rough palms already taking hold of what he could reach.
Hermione felt that magnetic pull deep inside her belly, her core clenched at his words.
She let him guide her up, surprised when he turned her around so she was facing away from him.
“Gods, wife. You’re drenched already. All wet and sweet and creamy.”
Hermione could no longer think. His tongue was swirling around her clit, deep humming sounds vibrating from his throat as he tasted her.
She tried to bury her fingers in the black hair that dusted his legs, desperate for something to hold on to. Something to bloody tether her to reality because with the way Severus was eating her out, experiencing nirvana seemed likely.
“I could eat you out for days.” he said, panting a little.
The way his breath blew against her oversensitive flesh made her entire body feel electrified. Then he began massaging her clit with his fingers, as he fucked her with his tongue. Hermione felt her orgasm building and bent forward to suck him in turn.
Severus was not the only one starving.
“Fuck, Hermione!”
“Mmmm…” she moaned and slurped around his cock, not easing away.
He whimpered against her core, slightly slowing the pace of his ministrations as Hermione took him as deep as her throat allowed. She hollowed her cheeks a bit and fluttered her tongue, desperate for the taste of his salty precome. Severus jerked his hips to fuck her mouth in time with his licks.
It was filthy, it was perverse, it was perfect.
“Come for me, love. Sate my hunger.” his commanding voice growled through their mental connection.
Another swipe made her walls clench. Hermione fell apart with his tongue buried in her scorching heat, his cock so deep in her mouth it nearly choked her. All the tension that gathered in her body dissipated as she rode out the last licks of her pleasure.
It wasn’t enough. Lingering anxiety made her hopelessly needy. She straddled him and sank down on his cock in one smooth movement.
Severus could only watch as she began to twitch her hips, riding him like her life depended on it.
“That’s it, little witch. Ride me...harder!”

“Sev...oh...fuuuuck!” she began to tremble, then pant, then jerk.
White light erupted behind her eyelids as she came the second time, milking his cock so perfectly it pulled him over the edge with her.
“That’s it! Oh Gods, wife, I’m going to...ungh...fill...you...up…”
Severus could barely breathe, as if he was the one doing all the movement.
He gripped her hips so hard it left little imprints on her skin.
But Severus no longer needed to confirm he wasn’t too wild or too rough and that in itself was a healing kind of trust. The deep intimacy that flowered between him and his little wife settled another one of his wounds.

Hermione curled around him possessively.
“I am never letting go of you, Severus. Don’t even think about sending me away with my parents or locking me away. I am fighting this war alongside you. My place, my love, my loyalty – it’s all beside you and nowhere else.”
She had risen just enough to be able to stare into the scorching blackness of his eyes. The fire no longer danced in the hearth alone. It was inside her, a part of her.
“Bloody Gryffindor.” he muttered affectionately.
“I fucking love you, you hear me? I can’t breathe without you. I couldn’t send you away even if I tried.”
Hermione rested her forehead against his, never shying away from his gaze.
“Loud and clear, my dear husband. Loud and clear.” she whispered, eternally grateful to whatever force bound her to this brilliant man.

In the morning, Hermione watched Crooks give chase around the garden, enjoying all the fresh smells of the greenery slowly coming back to life. She wished she had her camera down here to capture the way early morning sun glistened on the cliffs above the Northern sea.
Summon it, her mind chimed in.
Wandless, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She could do it, if she focused, she was sure of it.
“Accio camera. Accio camera!” she repeated, fueling the spell with her intention to capture beauty. The memory.
And on her third try, the camera did appear, slowly floating towards her extended arm, but Hermione was no longer thinking about the sunshine.
She stared at the camera, wide eyed.
Then she ran inside, never taking the picture at all.

“Severus!” she exclaimed, searching for him. It didn’t take her long to find him still in bed, barely roused from sleep.
She never told him, but this is how she liked him best. All soft and warm from sleeping, his black hair tousled, his body mostly naked and wrapped in sheets.
“What in the name of Merlin?” he blinked sleep from his eyes, looking positively owlish.
“I found the solution! The memory charm, I think I got it!” she said excitedly.
Suddenly looking more awake, Severus pulled her on the bed with him.
“Get back here, love. Get back into bed with me, and I’ll warm you up.”
“Sorry, I just feel so excited. You remember when you told me how photo albums made you think of the Christmas ornaments we gifted our guests at the wedding? What I was thinking about now is more like a memory card. An object you can extract from the camera so it holds the photographs you created, leaving a blank space in the camera.”
Severus simply stared at her, dumbfounded.
“We need to create objects, onto which we can copy the memories before deleting them from their minds…”
They would never know what she’d say next, because Severus pulled her down for a heated kiss. He adored her brilliant mind. His marvelous, wonderful wife found the missing piece of the puzzle. Now he only had to make himself let go of her, let go long enough he would actually create what she had envisioned.
Hermione pulled away first, her breathing labored.
“You should go work on it. Can I help?” she asked, enthusiasm written all over her face.
Severus smiled affectionately, feeling just a little smug.
“Maybe...an insufferable little know-it-all can be of use in such matters…”
Hermione squealed in fake indignation and slapped his shoulder playfully. Severus caught her arm and nibbled on it.
“Now, now, Madam Snape, this is no way to treat your husband…” he purred.
He was naked, and his prominent hard-on was already begging for attention.
Nothing, nothing turned him on like a display of her intelligence, her power.

Hermione bit her lip as she stroked a hand over his length, already feeling hot and bothered.
“We really shoud get up and work while we have the time.” she tried to convince herself out loud.
Severus ended the conversation by pulling her down, trapping her under his towering body.
“Just a quick one then.”

Chapter Text

It took them no more then ten days to get the Grangers to move away safely. Hermione helped Severus with the research at first, hunting for snippets of information in the thickest of tomes, then analyzing and discarding of what wasn’t helpful. They spent many nights huddled together, breaking their heads with a nasty piece of translation here, a difficult calculation there. It was tiring work, tiring and frustrating.
But the couple soldiered on, knowing the importance of their success just might be the key to survival of those who they treasured the most.
On their fifth night, they finally had their first break through. On the seventh night, the spell was completed. On the eight day, Severus bought a barely used model of a burly black Land Rover, making Hermione swear she will not tease him about the choice...and her being right.

They spent two nights testing the charm on Hermione, focusing on copying and removing a specific memory from her mind, then returning it to her an hour later. Hermione chose to forget how she turned into a cat by using the wrong hair in polyjuice potion back in her second year. The spell was tested on one specific moment in memory first, then selectively, on erasing the memory of one person from that memory, then the entire memory of the event.
It didn’t go smoothly, not as smoothly as they’d hoped, at first. It frustrated Severus when the copy of the memory was unexplicably weak. Faint, like a faded photograph. Until Hermione suggested, they try using an object she felt deeply connected to, using the subconscious affection as an accelerator for the intensity of the memories. Severus once again, stared at her in astonished silence, then kissed her breathless with all his might.
The idea worked, of course, once they finally pulled their clothes back on for long enough to test it.
Hermione used the locket Severus gave her for Christmas, the one that preserved the flowers of her wedding bouquet. She wore it constantly, happy to have one thing that spoke of her bond to Severus that she didn’t have to hide. Testing on a different memory now, Severus managed to transfer it to the necklace in it’s entirety, before partially erasing it from her mind and tampering with the rest of it. He managed to make her forget about Dolores Umbridge teaching at Hogwarts, and changed the color of Dumbledore’s robes to the same bright pink the woman usually wore. Hermione giggled at the mere thought of it, but realized at the same time, the spell worked. The illusions Severus created inside her mind to fill up the void from the erased memories seemed plausible. She grabbed the oval shaped locket then, tracing a finger over the spell’s inscription.

Cupio meminisse, cupio meminisse, cupio meminisse – she chanted three times, keeping her voice on an even note. The sound of it reminded Hermione of Gregorian chants, words vibrating with magic that seemed ancient and brand new all at once.
The memory – her true memory – was back.
The hideous woman, her fluffy pink outfit, the terrifying sweetness in her voice. Dumbledore’s robes turned back to a dark crimson, and Hermione didn’t feel disoriented from the process, not in the slightest.

They spent what was left of the ninth night celebrating. Naked. In his black fourposter. Severus, as always, had excess of energy to work off, as he often had when creating new magic. Hermione was all to happy to comply. He fetched them a couple of fresh pepper-up potions when it was time for them to get up.
Hermione wrote a letter to her parents, notifying them to be ready in the afternoon. When the classes finished for the day, Severus and Hermione disillusioned themselves and hurried towards the nearest apparation point. There was little time for romance now, when he wrapped his arms around her and called out for their usual landing spot in the park.

Hermione would never forget the afternoon they took her parents and their luggage to the cottage. Posy helped, of course. They hugged and cried and held on to each other, not daring to say this might be the last time. Hermione willed herself to think this was just temporary. In a year or two, her parents would return, with happy stories and tan lines and a thick photo album of their adventures. The war would be over and she would no longer have to worry about who saw her with Severus.
Things will be different, when they returned, Hermione told herself for the millionth time.
Better.

Severus loaded their luggage into the car, and when he reentered the cottage, they all knew it was time. In less then an hour, the couple who called themselves Monica and Wendell Wilkins, sat on their sofa, thinking they’ve just finished staying at a bed and breakfast. Severus and his wife were only the caretakers, hospitable enough to drive them to the nearest airport.
This was Monica’s and Wilkins’s last check on their tour around Scotland, before going off to explore Australia. The couple was happy and chatty, bubbling with enthusiasm for their upcoming travels.
While in the car, Severus gave them some tea mixed with a calming drought. The couple slept the entire drive to Inverness Airport . It was painful enough to see them off, not knowing what the future held for either of them. He wanted to spare Hermione the pain of being forced to act as a stranger for the entire drive.
They replaced their wedding rings, using the original pair for the memory transfer. Now, those were safely tucked away in a safe Severus once created in the cottage, not completely trusting the Goblins at Gringotts.
Monica and Wendell Wilkins waved goodbye from the ticket counter, where they registered for their reserved seats on the flight that would take them from Inverness to Heathrow, and onward over the ocean. They promised Hermione they’d send a postcard from Sydney on arrival. Severus planted a false information in their minds, that the Jean Granger who helped them get to the airport, was a fierce collector of postcards from all over the world.
This was the safest way to make sure the couple landed safely. One postcard sent to their old address would raise no suspicion. But it would go a long way to calming their consciousness.

Hermione cried the entire way back, and it broke Severus’s heart to see his little witch so torn up with grief. But he didn’t tell her to calm down or try to entertain her. He let her cry it out, and once they returned to the castle, held her tight in his strong embrace, whispering praise and little nothings to lull her to sleep.

Of course, he was called to the Dark Lord the moment his wife finally settled.
After such a day, Severus was grateful the Dark Lord only called for him and not for Draco as well. He was sleep deprived and irratable, running on black coffee and spite.
He strode into the Malfoy manor with his black cloak billowing, looking menacingly enough the rest of the Death Eaters hung their heads and cowered in his presence.
The Dark Lord was pleased with his performance, or maybe it was just the thrill of successfully completed raid of another muggleborn residence that made him giddy. Severus didn’t give a damn. All he knew was, he was not in the proper mindset to get tortured.
When the Dark Lord shared with him the list of their upcoming targets, Severus’s stony face didn’t flinch at the mention of the Grangers. When the Dark Lord inquired about a few other locations that seemed to be too heavily warded, Severus promised to look into it.
He even agreed to teach Malfoy and Dolohov how to do what he did, in order to magnify their chance of success. They couldn’t always use Severus for such tasks, of course. He was far too important to be sent around.
No, his place was to slither back into the Order, plant false information, weaken Dumbledore and make sure Draco finally managed to fix that bloody vanishing cabinet.
Despite the late hour, despite the fact he barely slept all week, Severus was sharp enough to notice the way Greyback sniffed in his direction as he passed by, ready to leave. The look on werewolf’s face didn’t help settle his nerves. It was obvious what ever Greyback managed to get a whiff of, confused him. Severus only hoped it was not something to condemn him.

They repeated the memory alteration process with Violet’s family in the following weekend . Draco anonymously gifted them enough money to hold them over for a year, and with what Severus had put in from his coffers, the family of three wouldn’t have any troubles re-establishing their lives in Persia, the homeland of Ezra’s ancestors.
That process was somewhat easier and less emotional, and Severus was able to make Hermione smile afterwards, making sure the entire ordeal didn’t cause her to spiral into depression.
She began taking an hour here and there to see Harry and Ron, often accompanied by Ginny. Severus found himself fretting over loosing her, and quashed his fears in their infancy.
She was his wife , for Merlin’s sake. His soulmate.
She will not abandon him.

The fear remained. That something bad was about to happen. Severus could feel the weight of it settle in his bones, as he watched his wife march towards the Hogsmeade, surrounded by her friends. She promised to be careful not to be left alone. She promised she’d stay vigilant, despite being among friends.
At least McLaggen was barred from visiting Hogsmeade for the rest of the school year. One less thing to worry about when Severus couldn’t be with Hermione.

When she returned later that evening, stepping through the mirror portal already showered and in her cozy sleepwear, Severus felt like he could finally breathe again.
If Hermione noticed the desperation in the way he made love to her that night, she didn’t say. If she noticed his kisses and touches grew more possessive in the following week, she didn’t complain. She matched his passion and his emotions and made sure to tell him in a million ways, she loved him.
She was going to stand by him.
She was going to be his rock, the one to hold him over though all the turmoil.
Deep in his soul, Severus feared.
Because for all his intuition told him, she will not be able to.

Easter holidays were finally upon them. Sunny days greeted them with flowers and an occasional downpour. Hermione devised a study plan for herself, upholding the status of the school’s biggest swot.
It amused Severus to see how she tried to shrink all the books she needed for her studies into her messenger bag, as they readied to leave for the cottage. They couldn’t be away for the entire week, but a few days of being away from the madness would do them good. He gifted her a purple beaded bag as a surprise, and thought her how to cast extension charms. Hermione protested weakly, when she realized those were forbidden by the ministry, but the amused arch of his eyebrow challenged her Gryffindor courage, thus ending her protest.

Finally, whey were alone.
No more prefects knocking on his door in the middle of the night, desperate for his assistance in settling a situation. No more pointed stares from his colleagues when he turned down the offer to join them for a cup of tea and a friendly game of wizard’s chess. No more Dumbledore and his insipid requests.
Just him and Hermione, free to be who they truly were.

Ever since his anxiety over losing her began to swirl around in his chest, Severus’s libido increased exponentially. He was only half-joking when he persuaded Hermione to pretend they were actually trying for a child.
It aroused her too, much to his surprise.
On their first day back at the cottage, he didn’t let her out of bed all day and all night.
“Yes, oh fuck Sev! That’s it, claim me. Fill me up!” she panted, already maddeningly tight around his cock.
He pushed faster, his hips slamming into her so hard a part of him worried she’d bruise.
“Mine...mine...MINE!” he roared, biting down on her shoulder.
He knew he was loosing control of himself, his possessive urges to mark her for the world to see she was his and his alone got the better of him every time he touched her.
“I’m going to fill you up so much you won’t be able to breathe without my seed spilling out of you.” he growled menacingly.
He slowed his thrusts as he felt her approach the precipice of her pleasure.
“I’m going to keep you speared on my cock day and night until you’re round from the life my seed has planted in you.”
He stopped completely, shaken by the force of the truth crashing over him. Logically, he knew they shouldn’t.
It was too risky. Too soon.
But the war and the desperation to keep Hermione tethered to him were making Severus foolish with the urge to create new life while he still could.
Like a plant, blooming too early because it lacked proper nourishment. Many plants that lacked the proper environment bloomed and bore fruit prematurely in the desperation to complete the cycle.
“It’s alright.” she whispered, kissing his shoulder gently.
“I feel it too. I’m on the strongest potion, love, brewed by the best Potion master known far and wide. We can...indulge our psychology with the illusion, if it helps.”
Hermione was rubbing her face at him like a cat now, her inner walls clenching and pulsing around him as she began to cant her hips as much as his weight allowed. She did it intentionally, to get Severus moving again.
“You’re so perfect. My love. My wife.” he said, a tear sliding down his cheek as he began to move in time with her.
“I love you.” she replied simply. Then clenched her inner walls harder, making him twitch.
“Now be a good boy and fill me up.”
It was Hermione who sucked a trail of love bites down his neck now, Hermione who bruised his hips with the press of her heels against his back.
It was Hermione, whispering filth against his ear to make him go completely wild, make him forget about the world and lose himself inside her.

They slept for ages, after the sexual haze lifted and left them high on their afterglow. Exhausted from their daily life at Hogwarts, they slept for almost a day and a half, emerging only to fetch some food and returning to their well earned slumber.
On the third day after arriving at the cottage, Severus woke up slowly, enjoying the sensation of his wife’s smooth skin, warm under his fingers, as he explored the ways her body entwined with his while they were sleeping.
Slowly untangling himself from her limbs, Severus ventured out to the garden, wearing comfortable trousers and a thick jumper. In the spring, he usually used the outdoors to stretch and go through his mental reinforcements.
He gathered flowers for her, when he was done, placing them in a vase beside the tea set and carrying a tray of steaming breakfast up to the master bedroom.

Hermione woke to the sight of Severus walking into the room, still vaguely smelling of earth and sweat, with a crooked smile on his lips. Seeing he brought her food and flowers, she beamed at him.
“You’re spoiling me.”
“I need to replenish your strength, love. Can’t have my beastly appetite drive you to exhaustion.” he said simply, sitting on the bed beside her.
A few domestic spells prevented the breakfast in bed from becoming a messy endeavor.
“I thought we could use the spare time to practice dueling and occlumency.” Severus suggested, making Hermione’s eyes go wide, a look of pure anticipation transforming her face.
“Today?”
Her excitement made him chuckle.
“Yes, you little swot. Today.”
“No time like the present…” she said softly, taking his face into her palms as she leaned forward to kiss him.
She loved the little creases around his eyes when he smiled at her. He had such a vast capacity to love. To think how most of the school loathed him, thinking he was an old, greasy bastard who never knew better then to bark and scowl...it infuriated Hermione to no end.
She felt privileged to know the man behind the stony mask. The protective, emotional and brilliant wizard.
Skimming over her thoughts, Severus blushed, the tell-tale pink colored his ears.
“You better get dressed, little witch. Before you tempt me to show you just how happy your old man is to know you feel this way about me.”
“You’re a sweet man, Severus.”
“Only for you.” he replied, kissing her forehead.
He left the room, mostly to keep himself focused on what he wanted to teach her. Also, to give himself time to settle his emotions. It still surprised him sometimes, that a witch so brilliant and beautiful as his wife, would feel this much love towards someone like him.

They spent the better part of the day dueling. Hermione soon proved to be almost as tenacious as him, her offensive strikes quick and precise. Her retreats however, were a bit lacking. She was inventive, he had to give her that, but the panic got the better of her every time he managed to hold the attacking position for a longer period of time.
“ Focus!” Severus shouted.
“I could have killed you twice over, now. Stop ducking under the bushes and throw up a shield.”
“I can’t. I forget how to do it, and the muggle part of me kicks in.”
“We’ll take a break and try again, focusing on your defense only.”
Hermione lowered her wand and smiled at him.
“Sounds like a plan.”

As the afternoon came and went, they switched from dueling to basic occlumency. Hermione was trying to empty her mind and imagine the contents of her thoughts take shape inside a certain space. The trick was to mentally organize the mind to look like a house, or a library, or a castle. Hermione, of course, chose the library.
It surprised her how quickly she was able to imagine it, the various sections and long shelves. Later, she would marvel at her newly developed ability to find information inside her mind with more efficiency. She finally understood how Severus was able to call up numbers of pages in a certain book, or recite potions recipes without ever checking his notes.

They dueled most of the next morning, and when Hermione finally felt like she was getting better at it, he defeated her again.
“Why don’t you fight back?” Severus asked.
“You’re not really that calm and timid, love, I’ve seen you fight.”
“Maybe...oh, I don’t know.” Hermione said with slumped shoulders.
She had a hard time finding her rage, her fire.
Focus – yes, intention – no.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? I’m not the one you want to fight.”
“Not really, no.” she shook her head and stared off into the distance.
“I never considered myself a person of conflict. And we – we hadn’t even really argued yet, not like other couples do. The bond makes it so much easier to understand one another, I don’t ever feel the need to be mad at you. It’s hard to fuel the spells with intention, if I can’t even think about something you’ve upset me with.”
Severus kissed the top of her curls.
“Are you saying I am a good husband, then?”
Hermione chuckled.
She’d never mock him for needing her praise. Godric knows there was not much chance for that before she came into his life.
“Yes, love. You are the best husband in the world.”
She dragged him down by grabbing a fist full of his t-shirt. Kissed him sweetly.
“I have an idea, actually.”
Severus just smirked at her, his prominent eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“I’ve seen you take up your Death Eater persona a couple of times now, how about you duel me...like that?”
“I don’t know if taking up my alter ego is a smart move, Hermione. I’m not the man you love when I’m like that.” he frowned in concern.
“You’ll never hurt me.” she said simply, and he knew he was lost.
There was simply something irresistible about her unyielding faith in him.
“Fine. But we’ll set a safe word just in case.”
“A safe word?” she stared at him dumbfounded.
“Yes. Something you’ll use if things get out of hand or you need a break. I am not myself, when I am like that.”
“Wrackspurts.” Hermione said on a little giggle.
“What?!” Severus gaped.
“It’s something Luna Lovegood sometimes says. It’s a funny word. Hardly mistaken for anything else because of it’s weirdness.”
“Alright. Wrackspurts…”

Hermione could swear she heard him mutter something awfully resembling ‘what the actual fuck’ under his breath as he marched off, his back to her. He always gained a little distance. Not like in a formal duel, but as someone coming at her from a certain direction.

She could see him shift before he even turned to face her.
It was in the tilt of his head, the way he flicked the long black hair out of his face. The way he gripped his wand.
When Severus turned to face her, there was nothing but malice and darkness in his eyes. Bitter coldness to his lips.
Never in a thousand years could Hermione see this man and think he is capable of love, of warmth.
She hardly had any time to flick her shield up as he came at her, not even uttering a spell. Sparks flew and she had to whirl like crazy to get away from the hexes and curses, while Severus looked calm as the Black lake, not even breaking a sweat. He pursued her slowly, each step forward a confident movement.
Hermione let herself gape in awe.
Her husband looked positively regal.

She barely managed to deflect his next spell. She quickly transfigured the ropes he sent her way into little birds.
“Oppugno!” she shouted, letting the flock attack him.
He flung them away with a swish of his wand, as if they were nothing more but a speck of dust.
“Is that all you’ve got, little witch?”
Even his voice sounded different. Cold, silky and menacing.
He cast another vicious string of hexes.
Hermione summoned her patronus and let her silvery owl shield her.
But Severus was advancing on her again.
She felt him prod against her mind and snapped the first wall of occlumency up. It was a weak shield, preventing him from skimming her thoughts but also draining her focus.
“Expelliarmus!”she whispered, trying desperately to get some advantage.
It surprised him enough his black wand actually did flinch, then flew from his hand. He made a move to summon it back, but she silenced him and threw a stinging hex his way. It hit.
But Hermione forgot her husband barely needed his wand or his voice to cast spells any longer. The glare in his eyes suddenly grew even darker, and he surged up and around her in a cloud of black smoke, the tendrils of his magic enveloping her and tugging her along. He must have picked up his wand somewhere along the way, for when they landed, Hermione felt the tip of the black wood pressed under her chin as he firmly held her in place, boxed in against the wall of their cottage.
“You thought you could overpower me?” He leaned in, smelling of the dark magic.
“I could have tortured you, you know. I told you before, I can take anything I fucking want.”
His face was merely a breath away from hers now.
Hermione, to her own surprise, found herself aroused instead of frightened.
“And I told you, Severus, your darkness doesn’t scare me.”
It was her wand that crackled with magic now, as she leaned in to whisper in his ear, surprising him yet again.
“Divesto.”

Chapter Text

Returning to the reality of their daily life was inevitable.
No more unpleasant than a regular dentist’s appointment was for many people, thought Hermione with just a hint of sarcasm. Being back at the castle meant returning to living in the shadows, never being truly free to walk in the sun and be recognized for what they truly were.

With her parents safely tucked away on another continent, Hermione sometimes wondered how it would be to risk being just a little reckless. Kiss Severus in the empty hallway in the middle of the day and partially hope another student will come around the corner.
The more she practiced dueling, healing and occlumency, the more she grew anxious for the war to just get on with it.
Anxiety over how the war will affect the way they lived was eating away at her. Hermione knew, rationally, it would be best for her to sink deeper into the shadows instead of searching for the spotlight. Severus might need her to hide at the cottage, fake her own death or something of that sort. She might even need to live with the Order, seek Severus out in secret. The thought of that frightened her, but in the end, Hermione was willing to do anything to keep him safe, to aid him.
Hermione wasn’t naïve. There will be no way for her to openly stand next to Severus when the Dark Lord took over – which he probably will, before they managed to overthrow him.
Severus discussed a dozen different scenarios and strategies for the war with her. They always started spontaneously. Severus would share a bit of news on this or that, Hermione would put her book down to listen and the next thing they knew, it was hours later. Her tea had gone cold, his stack of papers to grade remained untouched by the red ink pot.
Later Hermione would feel a little guilty for keeping him up. There was no way for her to control the war, so trying to achieve that inside her mind at the cost of their sleepless nights wasn’t particularly productive.
Severus still had to grade papers, brew for the school, the Dark Lord, the Order, etc.
Hermione still had to write homework and do some of the actual studying.
She tried desperately to redirect herself at controlling what she actually could. Her mind being one of those things. It was, however, for the first time in Hermione’s life, quite difficult to care for a grade she got, when she lived in fear of how Severus would look like the next time he returned from the Malfoy manor.

Severus avoided being tortured by carefully doing exactly as he was told by the Dark Lord. Planting false information became nearly impossible and far too dangerous.
There was a small group of Death Eaters who were allowed to learn from him. Allowed equaled expected to. How to dismantle stronger wards, how to do unsupported flight and similar things. Voldemort played a part of a generous lord with those directives, while everyone with two functioning brain cells could see it was just another manipulation. Another way to keep his own supporters on tiptoes.
Will it be the stick or the carrot?

Draco was one of those select few. Severus couldn’t show him any favoritism, but the boy knew how to play his cards right to gain some favor. Avoiding getting tortured was one thing, but climbing the imaginative ranks of Death Eaters was something completely different.
Now, Draco was called away to help with the raids. He was the one who broke the carefully crafted shields around homes of unsuspecting victims, knowing he didn’t have much choice in it anyway. It didn’t lessen the burden of the guilt he felt afterwards. Something broke inside the boy the first time he read the news on a tragic destiny of a family he helped expose.
Disgusted with himself, he could no longer look Hermione in the eyes. Hardly swallowed the tears when he was called to meet Severus in his office.
“You had no choice, Draco. You’re just as much a victim of this crime as you were an accomplice.” His godfather tried to reason with him.
“At this point, it’s safer for you to do his bidding without a hint of disobedience. I cannot prevent him from harming you if you don’t.”
Draco just stared somewhere in the distance, his gaze unfocused. Severus’s advice and tutoring had kept him alive, kept him safe. But at what cost, the boy wondered. Was he really to become an assassin for the sake of saving his own skin?
Trading lives of innocent people for the sake of saving his own felt so unbearably heavy.
Thinking of his mother, captured inside her own home to live with the Dark Lord each and every day, Draco felt himself give in. His mother tried so hard to remain strong, for his and his father’s sake. Draco wouldn’t break under the pressure of difficult choices if that meant repaying her for all the selfless acts of bravery her daily life demanded.
And thus he bowed his head and did his bidding, knowing just a piece of that innocent boy who adored his family and loved everything aesthetically pleasing, was gone forever.

Severus stood at his usual spot in Dumbledore’s office, looking out the window. He wouldn’t tell the old wizard what he’d learned from his wife. Severus knew now, of the collection of the memories Dumbledore had obviously must have been collecting for decades. He wouldn’t mention there was an unmistakable parallel between Voldemort’s obsession with Harry Potter, and Dumbledore’s aim to understand Tom Riddle’s story.
Know thy enemy, his ass.

Severus knew now, how foolishly the headmaster relied on Potter’s greatest defense in the fight to overthrow the Dark Lord was to feed him as much information on Riddle’s origins and trust the prophecy would sort out the rest.
The boy was a dab hand at dueling, Severus hated to admit. He wasn’t the dumbest of the dunderheads either. But knowing what the rest of the Death Eaters were capable of, he couldn’t imagine Potter coming out on top with any of them, let alone the Dark Lord himself.
“The time is nearly upon us, Severus. I am afraid there will be no other way but for you to kill me.”
Dumbledore’s words rang through the quiet office, as if someone had struck the side of a bell with a sword.
Severus whirled, seething.
“How dare you expect this of me? Why won’t you just fling yourself off a tower and be done with it? Merlin knows there’s plenty of options and opportunity.”
“The Dark Lord’s trust into you has to be cemented, Severus! Unfaltering!”
“I don’t give a damn about his trust, or yours for that matter.”
Dumbledore gave him an exasperated look.
“You can’t expect me to become your murderer! Not after EVERYTHING I have done for you!” Severus panted, trying desperately to contain his outrage.
“I am a dead man walking, Severus! And you will be one, too, if you refuse to do this!”
“I was careful when I took the Unbreakable vow! I left loopholes in the phrasing…”
“That’s beside the point!” Now it was Dumbledore’s turn to be miffed.
“There are greater forces at play here, Severus.” He tried to reason with the dark wizard.
“Then tell me. Everything. I need to know. Your plans with Potter, your plans for the Order.” Severus paused, trying to even out his breathing.
“You want me to carry out what you’ve started?! Stop leaving me in the dark then, stop feeding me breadcrumbs!”
“I just need one more memory, Severus. Just one more memory from Slughorn to confirm my suspicions, then I will tell you.”
“And of course it has to be Potter who gets it.” Severus spat.
“I will leave you to it, if Harry fails at retrieving it.”
Dumbledore was using his best stern voice now, making Severus feel like a scolded school boy. He glared at the old wizard for a couple of beats before giving in to the urge to march off.
“You expect too fucking much.” He yelled, leaving the words to echo through the room as the doors behind him slammed shut.

Harry and Ron played wizards chess on the sunny lawn, as Hermione approached them with a giggling Ginny clinging to her arm. They were done with their classes for the day, and this might be the only afternoon this week when Hermione could spare some time to spend around her friends.
She promised Severus she’d help him brew another batch of potions, so that they could finally catch up on some sleep. He was irritable about it, but accepted her aid. That alone showed how exhausted her husband had become. Hermione had a few ideas on how to relieve him of some tension. She’d just have to find a proper moment to test them.

Ron was competently sweeping away Harry’s figurines from the looks of it, and Ginny chuckled at his annoyed expression.
“He really sucks at chess but keeps playing.” The redhead commented on her boyfriend.
“Just doesn’t have the patience for it. I hope that won’t be the reason he loses against You-know-who.”
“He won’t lose, Ginny.” Hermione tried to erase the worry from her friend’s face.
“You can’t know that…I’ve been talking to dad. Things at the Ministry are really awful. I can’t imagine how it’ll be like in a few weeks when we have to leave this safety bubble behind.”
Ginny’s eyes were clouded with worry. The wind whipped at her long strands of straight copper hair and sent it flying. There was something in Ginny’s posture that made Hermione think of the ancient warriors. Her friend was strong, brave, fiery.
“I am thinking about leaving him.” She sighed.
That made Hermione sputter.
“Why on Earth would you do that for? Is something…wrong?”
“No…this year with him had been great.” Ginny said quietly.
“But you know how sadistic those black hooded bastards can be. They might use me to get to him.” Ginny suddenly sounded so much older than her fifteen years.
“I don’t want the beauty of what we feel for each other become…a liability.”
Her eyes were misty with tears now, and Hermione realized her friend was far from feeling strong. She slid her arm around Ginny’s waist to offer her comfort and wished the boys would keep playing chess until the girl managed to get a hold of herself.
No need for teenage drama on this beautiful day.
“I will leave him if I have to, Hermione. But I can’t lose him.”
Hermione felt a quiet pang of pain go off in her own chest, fearing those words might one day be her own.
“You won’t, Ginny. We will all do our best to make sure of it.” A sad smile tugged at her lips now.
“We will both have our wizards when this is all over. Just imagine Harry and Severus being forced to sit down for a double date.”
Wiping at a stray tear, Ginny burst out laughing.
“Oh dear, I must hold on to that thought. Can you picture them, glaring at each other while trying to stay decent because of us?”
Hermione chuckled at the image.
“Oy! What are you two laughing at?!” Harry called out.
“Your sore loser’s arse, that’s what.” Ron suggested with a victorious smirk.
Ginny blew him a flirtatious kiss, making her boyfriend smirk and her brother blush.
“Girl stuff, Harry, just girl stuff.”

After two evenings of constant brewing alongside her husband, Hermione finally got her chance to surprise him. She slipped inside his office when he was finishing his teaching for the day, hoping to get him alone.
Severus’s black eyes widened as he watched his wife slip into the room, quietly shutting the doors behind her.
“Hermione?”
An eyebrow rose up towards his hairline. Severus could feel her playful mood seeping into him through the bond, and allowed himself to relax. Nothing seemed to be wrong, at least not at the moment.
“You’re grading papers?” she asked curiously, slowly making her way across the room.
“Indeed. I thought you were going to the library with Malfoy?”
Hermione reached his desk and bent over to kiss the corner of his lips.
“No. I think I have something far more important to do…right here.” She purred her words in her best throaty voice, knowing what it did to him to have her breath blowing gently at his ear.
She came around the desk and let the skirt of her uniform ride up just a fraction.
The collar of his strict Victorian robes seemed too tight in that moment.
“You want to…? Now?”
Flustered, Severus cast a few protections over the door just in case. It was his official office hours, even though rarely any students were foolish enough to actively seek him out. Severus thought how he held no detention that day, so technically…
“Oh, don’t worry about your work, love.” Hermione said with a knowing smile.
“You won’t even notice I am here.”
“I am very well aware of your presence in my personal space, Miss Granger.” He couldn’t help his sarcasm.
“Indeed.” She replied as she slid her palm over the growing bulge in his trousers. She slid to the floor, and scooted a bit back, almost disappearing under the table.
“Would you mind terribly to push your chair forward a bit, Sir?”
Fuck. The polite, innocent way she spoke painted a stark contrast to the way she was behaving. Severus knew she had him by the balls on this.
He was aching for her.

They hadn’t had a chance to properly be with each other since their return from the cottage. It was a bit different after that time when she pushed him to play a Death Eater while dueling, only to jump his bones the moment he cornered her in. That day, Hermione made him loose control completely. When she vanished their clothes in broad daylight, in the middle of their garden, in the middle of the duel – Severus snapped.
He flew them to the bedroom and fucked her ruthlessly until she screamed and cried, punishing and just a little vengeful.

Now, she was on her knees, in her school uniform and her hands were doing marvelous things to his thighs, making him want to squirm in his seat.
He was a bloody grown man, not some needy teenager.
But Severus knew he wouldn’t resist her. The lines of professionalism and decent behavior at a workplace had been blurred and crossed in so many ways with them already, they hardly even applied.
As if reading Hermione’s thoughts, Severus found himself thinking how with the war on the horizon, it was best to seize the moment.
He allowed her to part his robes and ease him out of his trousers, enough expose his rock hard erection. The quill he still held in his hand clattered and left a few red spots on the parchment he had been marking. Hermione’s lips enveloped him.
Severus ran a trembling hand trough his tresses.
“Aren’t you going to mark the papers?” her voice inside his head teased him gently.
“Perhaps, if I am too much of a distraction, I should stop…”
A hand suddenly fisted her hair, her long thick plaid wrapped around his wrist.
“Don’t you dare, minx! That will only get you into more trouble. Argh, fuck – just like that…”
Hermione took him deeper in her throat and hollowed her cheeks.
“Trouble, Sir? Am I going to get a detention?” she teased, not really able to stop herself.
“Hmf…detention, yes…for the rest…of the school year…” Severus could barely breathe now, aroused to the brink of his own sanity.
She was sucking on him now, hard, not letting go even as she slightly bobbed her head up and down.
The sounds they were making were too primal to suit their academic environment.
Soon, too soon for his liking, he felt her throat constrict a little, causing his bollocks to clench. He didn’t want to come yet, despite the situation.
But Hermione knew how to listen to his body, knew how to push him over.
Swirling her tongue around his length, her drool dribbling down her chin, she moaned unabashedly and pulled him into a state of breathless, mindless pleasure.
He was pushing deeper into her throat, relieving himself as Hermione swallowed, utterly consuming him.
She let him out with a little wet pop, nudging her face against his thigh like a cat. 
Severus could only bend over to kiss her head before slumping back in his chair, looking just a little lost as he stared at the ceiling.
“Gods! You’re something else, love.” He said on a throaty whisper, too relaxed to give a damn about who or what or where they were.
“You looked like you needed to let go of some tension.” She smiled up at him, softness and warmth in her eyes.
“Do not think you have gotten away with it, though. I will make an effort to properly distract you when you’re least expecting it.” He smirked, his angular features looking just a little devilish.

True to his word, Severus managed to get his revenge a couple of evening’s later, when Hermione was busy revising Arithmancy, NEWT level. She had obviously already forgotten about his sweet little threat.
The surprise etched in her eyes made Severus chuckle.
“Didn’t think I’d forget about it, did you?” he said, while he tore down her knickers. They were in his private quarters now, but Hermione came back straight after classes, still in her uniform. Severus pulled his black leather belt open, and sat down with Hermione in his lap.
She was so trusting, so pliant he barely got any resistance for spearing her on his cock without any preamble. Hermione slid down onto his length, the exquisite stretch making her want to move and rock her hips.
Severus’s long fingers held her tightly, keeping her in place.
“Let’s see if you can study while you warm my cock.” he whispered in her ear, a darkening softness tainting his voice.
“Read the paragraph. Out loud.” He commanded, pushing her even further down.
Stuttering, Hermione barely uttered the words her eyes scanned off the paper.
“Such a good girl…” he purred, pushing her legs wider apart, a single finger teasing her clit.
“Next chapter. And remember – if you stop, I will stop as well.”
“The single lined pentagram…umf…is used for the purposes of calculating chart of the…ah, ah yes!”
Hermione tried desperately to keep her eyes open, to keep them trained on the page in the book. The words swam in front of her eyes as the tension began to build.
She had no idea how she finished the paragraph.
Severus pried her shirt open and he was pinching her nipples now, twisting and tugging just the way she liked it best. Stars swam in front of her eyes as she read on, barely uttering the words caught between her moans. After the next two paragraphs, Hermione’s breasts were achingly sensitive, the wetness between her thighs calling for Severus to finally have mercy.
He flipped her around then, barely pulling out before slamming back into her.
She was still on top, but facing him.
“Summarize what you’ve just read through.” He said before sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.
Hermione whined, trying her best to recall the last topic she’d read about.
“Symbols that…ah, ah just like that…are used by different cultures all over the world...Mmh!” she tried her best to remember.
“…Are usually combined from the basic, oooooh…geometrical…bodies. We use them…” she trailed off as he switched his ministrations to the other breast.

“Keep going” Severus said with his mouth full.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come so hard just by keeping me like this!” she exclaimed.
He stopped.
“The geometry part of the patterns can help us achieve mathematical accuracy corelated to their proper structure.” She rattled out quickly and Severus got back to work.
He was nothing short of masterful at building the tension.

It didn’t take them long to trip towards the sweet precipice.
His tongue still lapping at her nipples, Hermione finished summarizing the chapter on using Arithmantic calculations in the shape of ancient symbols.

One smooth move was all it took to push Hermione back to lay on top of the books and in three well aimed thrusts, she was coming, coming endlessly.
Severus jerked his hips faster, chasing his own pleasure.
“Good…fucking…girl!” He growled, pushing and twitching, erratically stumbling towards the end.
He filled her up, and they both had the corners of their vision swimming as the pure pleasure took over their sensibilities. Severus dragged himself out to smear some of their juices on her thighs.
“I don’t think you’ll ever forget that subject.” He chuckled.
“Neither will I, for that matter.”
Hermione was still laying on top of the books, boneless. Concentration had drained out of her body as successfully as the pent-up tension.
“And here I thought I had a good studying approach…”
She managed to say, her words soft and sleepy.
Severus vanished her clothes and carried her to the bedroom.
“I’ll wake you for the morning shower. Sleep now. I don’t want you to start winding up that big brain of yours.” He said as he tucked her under the covers.
“You will stay up and work?”
Severus pressed his lips into a thin line, failing to smirk.
“Don’t tense up again, love. I will be joining you shortly…”
Nudging her with his hooked nose, he managed to have Hermione close her eyes.
They both knew his last words to be a lie. Severus was drowning in work, and often enough, he was called to the manor just when he was finally about to sleep.
He sat on the bed, watching his wife’s breathing even out.
She had shadows under her eyes these days, trying her best to keep the spirits up.
To help Severus swim instead of sink.
He kissed her shoulder before forcing himself to get the fuck up and crack on.
The war never slept.
And whether he was called a spy or a general, neither did he.

May came sooner then expected, and Severus decided to split the older students into groups. They would duel in group formations, learning how to stay aware of their surroundings as well as other participants.
The rules of the exercise were clearly written out in Severus’s spiky handwriting, if anybody decided to try and circumvent them. Not many were foolish enough to ignore his instructions, but Severus feared McLaggen would be one of them.

Hermione was paired with Neville and Ron, while their opposing team consisted of Harry, Seamus and Lavender. It was obvious Severus tried not only to even out the scales, but to keep Cormac from any direct interaction with Hermione.
The duel began, and to everyone’s surprise, Neville managed to stand against Harry, almost as his equal. Hermione was downplaying her newly honed dueling skills.
“Tarantegalla!” Seamus flung the spell towards her, but Hermione merely sidestepped and sent the magic flying back into its caster.
Seamus began to wiggle and rock his hips, desperate to get a hold of himself. Hermione used the momentum to disarm him, while Lavender tried to distract her by aiming a tickling hex her way.
Ron surprised everyone as he stepped forward, taking the fall in her stead, his manic laughter curling his gangly form as soon as the spell hit. Hermione made quick work of Lavender with a binding charm.
It was Neville and Hermione versus Harry now, and the classroom went eerily quiet with anticipation. Harry decided to take the defensive, letting Neville string a beautiful form of spells in his direction, while Hermione readied herself to shield her classmate if necessary. Harry called on his patronus, swiftly deflecting Neville’s attack. Hermione threw up a shield of her own, making sure the boy was safe from his own spells. On the second breath, she summoned a few coins from her bag, transfiguring them into birds and sending them after Harry.
Severus watched in amusement how the boy fled from her flock, desperately trying to think of a solution.
He stopped for a split second and aimed his wand.
“Finite incantatem!” he shouted.
The spell flew.
It didn’t hit the birds alone.
It hit Hermione as well.
Shocked, she took a step back. She could clearly see how Harry’s eyes widened in astonished recognition as the love bites scattered over her neck became visible.
She didn’t give him the time to notice the wedding ring.
“Confundus!” she whispered, hoping no one will notice.
Hermione could feel Severus’s wandless magic wash over her, as he wasted no time recasting her glamours.
Harry stood in front of her, fixing his glasses and looking completely confused.
“Hermione, what…”
He never managed to finish the sentence because Neville saw an opportunity and took it.
“Petrificus totalus!” He said with a smirk, straightening to his full height.
“Isn’t it poetic that it was because of you three I know how efficient this spell is?”  the boy chuckled. He turned to give Hermione a high five.
Severus and Hermione tired not to act too weird. Hermione faked a laugh and congratulated Neville, then released Harry from his petrification. The boy rubbed at his head, as if something still didn’t make any sense.
“Petrification is a good spell to render your opponent useless. There is no known way to cancel the spell without a help of another person. Next group, prepare yourself!” Severus commanded, knowing he should urge the rest of the students to participate. If they were busy casting spells, they couldn’t linger on that odd little frame of events. Maybe no one noticed Hermione bespelled Harry. Maybe no one noticed the marks Severus had left on her throat earlier that morning.

In the corner of the room, Cormac readied himself to cast his first spells. He did pay attention to Granger’s every move. He made sure to have a front row seat to her dueling. And it paid off in gold.
Because he knew now, the witch had a secret. The witch had a lover.
And Cormac?
Cormac knew now just which spell to use to finally ensure he had Miss Prefect’s full attention.

Chapter Text

Draco wasn’t talking to Hermione anymore.
He simply couldn’t.
He knew it wasn’t safe for her to be alone in the hallways or even outside of school. But Hermione had those two dunderheads from the Lion’s den back at her side, hadn’t she?
And she had his Godfather. Draco knew there was no fiercer protector than the man who shielded him from the Dark Lord every chance he got.
Draco admired Severus a great deal. Had done so, ever since he was just a tall and dark wizard coming to visit at the manor every now and then.
He admired him even more now that he bore close witness to how heavy the burden of espionage had become. It seemed like it gained a tectonic weight since last autumn.
And Draco feared, feared he wouldn’t see another spring. Or even that if he saw it, there would be no more beauty for him to admire in this world.
Would his eyes still appreciate the soft lines of a fragrant apple blossom?
Would the warm spring breeze still make him want to close his eyes as he rose higher and higher on his broom?
Would he still know how to laugh as he plummeted down towards the safety of the ground beneath him?
It all seemed impossible now.
In only a matter of weeks, Draco would become of age.
And open the passage to his fellow Death Eaters, letting them burn down the last pillar of his childhood.

Today was the day he would no longer wait in the shadows, Cormac told himself.
Today was the day, when she’d join him in their solitude.
Because today, Cormac was ready to move on with his plan.
Today – Hermione Granger would pay for never truly noticing him.

It was a sunny day, all in all. The classes were almost over. Not that he cared, anyway. He was in and out of classroom as he pleased, always careful not to gain suspicion, but even more – careful to get his own way.
There was always a plausible excuse waiting at the tip of his tongue. A white lie.
Yesterday it was a headache, tomorrow it will be a forgotten book.
It wasn’t like Cormac gave a flying fuck about his education. This bloody school wasn’t buying him a seat in the Wizengamot. A position in the Ministry. His father’s deep pockets, that was more like it. And Cormac knew just how deep they were. He also knew enough of his old man’s dirty secrets to keep him dancing to the proper tune. The tune Cormac picked, of course.
And Granger? She was supposed to be his perfect pet, a sidekick, a crown jewel to his master plan. Someday, when Cormac was to become someone powerful, like the Minister for magic perhaps, he would use her for her ideas and hard work. Why should Potter have the monopoly on her brain? It’s not like scarhead had any ambitions!
But as fate would have it, Miss Prefect played her little game a tad too long. Long enough to ruin her chances of becoming Cormac’s beloved accessory, anyway. Now, he'd have to punish her. Punish her enough no one would ever again consider her worthy of attention.
Oh, she’d get attention alright. Just…not the positive kind. The pleasurable kind.
And only after Cormac forced her to give him attention first!

The mere thought of her face, growing pale, growing scared, got him so hard he had to take the turn to the nearest lavatory for a quick wank.
With his mind cleared of the lusty haze, Cormac waited.
It wasn’t long when Luna Lovegood came around the corner.
The girl was always full of gibberish.
“Hey, Looney! How's the day been treating you, huh?”
Cormac's saccharine smile was so overly sweet it could cause a toothache.
But instead of looking at him with moony eyes, Luna seemed to stare straight through him.
“You seek to fill the raging void inside you, by devouring all there is good.”
Her voice went from dreamy to sing-song, sending shivers down his spine.
“You are like a house no one lives in - pretty on the outside, crumbling on the inside. Pursue the one you hunt, and you shall end up biting your own tail.”
Unnerved by the seemingly nonsensical prophecy in her speech, Cormac did not reply.
Maybe Lovegood wasn't the perfect scapegoat after all.
“Well, that was a great chat! See you around, okay?”
Cormac had to get rid of her and find another victim.
“No, I don’t think so. Way too many wrackspurts.” She smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

A deep breath of relief whooshed out of Cormac as he watched the blonde girl march away.
He wandered through the corridors of the third floor aimlessly, hoping he would run into someone useful. Other Gryffindors were his best option, of course, since he didn’t exactly know anyone from any other houses.
Then he saw the Patil twins gossiping at a sunlit alcove.
“Hello, ladies!” he winked, earning a pleased giggle from one, and a confused smile from the other.
“Have you seen Hermione?”
“Sure, she was just heading up to change before dinner.”
“Damn it! That Slytherin prat, Malfoy…he said to tell her he’d wait for her on the seventh floor.” Expertly playing his audience, Cormac ran a hand through his hair as if worried.
“I really need to go, I have detention with Filch.”
“Oh boy, you can’t be late for that.” Said Parvati. She did like to ogle McLaggen when she had a mind to do so.
“No, I really can’t. Are you heading up, by any chance? Could you tell her?”
“Maybe…” A coquettish smile appeared on the lips of one of the twins, while the other remained silently passive.
“I’d be in your debt…Please?”
Cormac’s eyes were pure innocence, but his lips were twitching with a playful smirk not yet fully in bloom. He was already planning how to get an extra treat out of this opportunity.
“If that’s the case, consider it done. We were already leaving, anyway. Right, Padma?” Parvati looked at her twin, who nodded absent mindedly.
“Thank Merlin, Parvati, I shall never forget it.”
“No, I don’t think I’ll let you.” She smirked in return, her mind already busy planning a list of salacious things to try when they saw each other next.
The pair of girls scurried off on their way, and the third floor was once again empty but for Cormac, who laid low and waited.
He really should go up any prepare himself, Cormac caught his own twisting thoughts. He waited to take what he was owed long enough.

Hermione was hurrying to prepare herself to go down to dinner. Severus was caught busy in a staff meeting on the fifth floor. Harry, Ginny and Ron were down at the quidditch pitch and it suited her just fine, to be on her own for a couple of hours. If she measured her time right, Hermione could pay a lonely visit to the library after dinner. It was something she wasn’t able to do in a while.
Not that she minded, though. There was fun in the easy camaraderie between her and Malfoy. Unlike Harry and Ron, Draco was just as studious as her, just in a different, more relaxed fashion. It was also useful to work alongside him, since he understood magic in a way only a pureblood could. It had nothing to do with blood, but with his upbringing, a childhood surrounded and saturated in magical traditions.

Hermione didn’t really need books from the library. Merlin knew Hermione could spend the next twenty odd years reading through the collection of Severus’s books in his lair down in the dungeons,.
She went to the library to seek quiet. The silent comfort of the printed pages, pressed and bound in their leather confines. The smell of old parchment and fine dust lingering in the sunlight.

To tell the truth, Hermione didn’t need to wonder about what drove Draco to push her away. The reports about Death Eater activity were overwhelming. Alarming, even.
If Draco had any part in those raids, which seemed likely, the boy she knew now was desperately surrounding himself with thick protective walls. Hermione knew now, how Draco loved heartbreaking piano music and impressionistic paintings. How he preferred novels with fierce warriors changing the course of history. The ones, who made love to their heroines under the starry skies. The boy was a pure closet romantic, and she hoped he’d keep that part of himself safe from the crumbling world that held them captives.
Severus was worried sick for the boy, if the way he kept grumbling about it was anything to go by. Even more so now, that Draco seemed to have pulled away from everyone. Even the two of them.
Severus and Draco told Hermione about the vanishing cabinet. They didn’t see the point to hide anything from her. She’d figure it out on her own anyway. Draco even promised to show her how the cabinet worked someday. That day never came, though.

“Here you are, Hermione!” Parvati sauntered into the room, an excited look on her face.
“I heard Malfoy is looking for you!” She said giddily, trying her best to reign in a raging case of teenage hormones. She sat down on Hermione’s bed, her eyes searching her face and thoroughly misinterpreting the smile blooming there.
“Oh. My. God. You minx! Is he your secret boyfriend or something?” She whispered.
Hermione stood silent, not really knowing how to explain herself.
“No, he is not. He’s just a…friend. Of sorts.”
“But is that all he wants? You can never be really sure with a bloke like him now, can you?” Parvati kept pressing. It was starting to give Hermione a headache and she was anxious to get moving.
“Where should I meet him? You didn’t say.”
“The seventh floor, I think.” Parvati pouted. She wanted to brag about Cormac’s attention to someone and even though Hermione was no gossip girl, she’d probably have to do.
However, Hermione had other things than gossip on her mind, so she picked her bag and headed for the door.  
“Thanks, Parvati. I better get going.” She said over her shoulder.
“But – I haven’t even told you what Cormac said to me!” Parvati whined.
Hermione was already half way through the door, those last words never ringing a warning bell in her mind. She was simply too anxious to see if Draco would finally let her get a closer look at the infamous Vanishing cabinet.
Thinking about Severus, Hermione wondered if she’d be able to sneak down to the dungeons after she was finished. Could she get away with not returning to the dormitory at all?

She changed out of her usual school uniform into a more comfortable, soft wrap dress in deep purple. Severus said this colour made the golden flecks in her eyes shine brighter. It also offered him great access to slide his long calloused fingers under the fabric and play. That was why she wore it, now. She thought of how Severus’s eyes widened in admiration when he first saw her wearing it. How they grew lustful when he tugged her closer by the ribbon.
Huffing lightly, she was almost at the seventh floor. There was nothing of interest there, she thought. Just the ROR, so that’s where Malfoy was probably waiting for her. It was his favourite hideout, as he once told her.

Just a couple more steps and Hermione was pushing at the door of the Room of Requirement wide open. Before she could even utter a word, much less a scream, a wand was pressed lightly between her shoulder blades.
“Petrificus Totalus.”

Cormac, who only heard of the Room of the Requirement’s existence but was this far unable to find it, followed Hermione inside. He silenced his feet with one of the spells his father used when he wanted to remain undisturbed.
The bitch didn’t hear him coming.

Judging by the force of her duelling skills, Cormac thought it better to simply render her useless. How else was he supposed to ensure she wouldn’t hex him with wordless or wandless magic?
There was a shocked, panicked gasp that fled from her lips before she turned all stony and cold. Hearing it sent sweet spikes of pleasure running though Cormac.
“Well, well Granger…what do we have here?” He bent over her shoulder to get a whiff of her hair.
“Smells like a bitch.”
Circling her petrified form, he looked her straight into the eyes.

Hermione couldn’t help but noticing his eyes looked hungry. Hollow. Maleficent.
“Looks like a bitch, too.”
A self satisfied smirk twisted his chiselled features.
“Then by all accounts, you are a bitch.”
He closed the gap between them in one frightening step.
“Do you know what I do with bitches, Miss Prefect? I teach them their place.”

Hermione was overflowing with the need to move. Being unable to even twitch while her mind screamed for her to run was a new kind of torture.
“Severus!!” she screamed through the bond.
It was flickering dully, because the man was obviously occluding. He did that often these days. Not to shut her out, but to keep her from being as overwhelmed as he was lately.
Hermione tried to focus, unable to close her eyes.
Desperate to get a hold of her thoughts and emotions, she tried again.
“Severus! SEVERUS!!!”
It was like trying to claw through a brick wall with nothing but bare hands.
Hermione was certain if she could look down, she’d see her fingers raw and bloody.
The sickly sweet scent of Cormac’s cologne was making her nauseous as he circled around her. Was he deliberately making her dizzy?
“Did you really think you’d get away with all the shit you pulled on me this year?” McLaggen suddenly began to fume.
Hermione could feel his sweaty palms grab at her thighs, her waist, her hands. He was searching for her wand, she realized.
“Fucking Miss Prefect!”
He roared victoriously when he found her wand tied to the inside of her left wrist. She was trying to become as swift and demure at procuring it as her husband was.
She could feel the maddening pace of her own heart as it raced inside her chest.  Cormac flung her wand through the air, giggling like a naughty toddler.
“Did you see that? It was a good shot! I would have made it to the quidditch team, I really would. But you distracted me! YOU!”
Again, the speed with which he went from giddy to choleric was just astounding. Hermione wished she could reach Severus. He was the only one who could help her now.
“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!” Cormac raged, his face red.
The veins on his neck stood out and Hermione could feel the little droplets of saliva land on her face.
Internally, she shuddered in disgust.
“SEVERUS, PLEASE!!!” her mind shouted.
She could feel herself slide deeper into the realm of terror when Cormac seemed to settle once again, now silently tracing a finger over her neck. Her collarbone. Slowly, he let it travel down, skirting around the edge of her neckline.
“Ripe for plucking. I mean fucking, hahahah!” Cormac cracked at his own joke.
“Hey Miss Prefect, you’re so stiff you must have a broom handle stuck up your arse. Shame it’s not my dick, now, isn’t it?” He giggled again, and Hermione wondered how had nobody noticed the person in front of her was obviously insane.
Cormac leaned closer to whisper into her ear.
“We’ll rectify that soon enough. I’ll break you in, help you loosen up.” He palmed the slope of her hips, sidestepping her.
Hermione almost screamed as she felt his body press up against her from behind. He was shorter than her husband, and there was an inflated sort of quality to his bulky frame. There was one bulge that didn’t feel fake though, and it made Hermione want to run for the hills.
“You thought you could break me? I let you push and shove and humiliate me. But I will be the one to break you.” His words sounded like a dark promise, one he was reverend enough to keep.
Because a boy like Cormac didn’t feel deep enough to actually be able to believe, to worship. If anything, he was his own altar. His own religion. To Cormac McLaggen, Hermione realized with horror, he himself was God.

And right now, he was grabbing her thighs, trying desperately to find a better angle to accommodate his plans.
“I am almost tempted to let you go, just so you could fight me.” He hissed, torn between pleasure and frustration.
“I want to see you fail, fail as many times as you’ve made me fail this year. Run, again and again, to get nowhere! Oh yes, I am tempted…” He rambled on,
making Hermione wish he’d actually give her the chance. With Severus’s training, she was certain she’d be able to overpower him.

A clammy hand brushed the inside of her thigh, and Hermione couldn’t hold back. Her entire body screamed in silence.

“NO!!! DON’T TOUCH ME, YOU FUCKER!”
Panting, her vision swam and spun. The effort to fight the panic while petrified was exhausting her.
“Severus!” She tried again, desperately.
She was not going to faint.
She was not going to…

“Severus!”
Minerva scolded him over the table.
Of course, she wouldn’t let him slack during a staff meeting, especially not when they were organizing the final exams, including the NEWTs and OWLs and Apparation Licensing.
There was a migraine building up, a tension at his temples throbbing like the devil himself decided to move inside his skull and throw the welcome party.
“Yes; I agree we should keep the students mixed, taking the exams at the same time. As per usual, one professor should be sufficient to sit on it.” He bit out the words, considering dropping his occlumency for a bit.
He was occluding to keep Hermione focused on her studying. She worried about him, about his mental health and lack of sleep. She coaxed him into bed with her, the little minx, making sure he slept and ate at least a little.
There was simply too much to do, it seemed.
Voldemort and his lunacy on one hand.
Dumbledore and his obnoxious secrecy on the other.
Hogwarts and the rising amount of work due to the schoolyear almost being over made him want to cry with frustration.
Taking a sip of his bitter tea, Severus gave into the urge to reach out to Hermione. She’d probably be in the library, or with her friends.
“Severus!!!”
Her voice filled with agony rang through his mind with a force that almost knocked him out of his seat.
There was a worrying silence, stretching through the bond now, making him wonder if he was so tired and so triggered he imagined the scream.
“Severus…”
He heard her again. Desperate. Exhausted.
Panic curdled his blood like never before.
Not wasting another second, he burst out of his seat, rendering his colleagues speechless.
“What’s the matter, Severus?” This time, it was Dumbledore that spoke up.
But Severus wasn’t going to answer. He was already pulling the big oak door open when he heard Sybill answer in his stead.
“The one with empty eyes has ventured down a dusk path. He has taken her, he has taken her!” she chanted, almost rising in her chair.
Minerva pulled her down in her seat, pushing a mug of hot tea in her hands to shut the witch up. Her stern gaze met Dumbledore’s quizzical one over the rim of her glasses.
“He told you this would happen.” Was all she said, before leaving the room herself.
Professor Sprout looked from one empty seat to another like she’d just heard a Mandrake sing an opera.
“Can anyone explain this to me?”

“Hermione! Where are you?”
Severus didn’t give a damn about how his emotions would filter through the bond now.
He was going to blow the entire castle to smithereens if that meant he’d find Hermione in time. Guilt trickled down his spine as he aimlessly headed for the grand staircase. How long was she trying to reach him, he wondered.
“The seventh floor…The room…Cormac…” she tried to push the words through. Her relief that he was coming to the rescue was obviously replenishing her strength.
“Hold on, love. I am coming.” He said, hoping no one will notice how he turned himself into a menacing swirl of black smoke.

Hermione was panting, as much as her confines allowed her to. It was lucky for her that Cormac didn’t yet do anything significant. He trapped himself, she realized. The petrification stuck to her dress as well as to her body, so if he actually wanted to rape her, he’d have to release her first.
And that’d be her fighting chance.
“I think you’ve teased me long enough, bitch. It’s time I get what I’m owed!”
Cormac quirked his lips, but the way the wry smile transfigured his face was far from pleasant. If anything, he looked mad.
That’s it, Hermione thought. Severus is on the way, and if Cormac releases her, they would easily overpower him.
“Finite incantatem…” he whispered against her ear, careful to have a steady grip on her wrists with one hand. With the other, he already tugged his belt free and opened the zipper. Hermione refused to acknowledge a certain part of his anatomy, bile rising in her throat at the mere whiff of his manhood.
She tried to kick up into his balls, but missed.  
She flung her head back, and the pain ringing through her skull was immediately dulled by the crunching sound and a muffled string of curses. It seemed she managed to break his nose, after all.
Her victory didn’t last long. As soon as Hermione stumbled forward to gain some distance, she tried to summon her wand. But her vision swam and her focus was lacking. She ducked for the nearest hideout. Cormac, with his cock out and his face bloody, didn’t waste any time hexing her.
He sent a binding spell to her wrists and her ankles. Hermione toppled over like a ragdoll.
She managed to wandlessly cancel the bounds on her ankles, and Cormac silenced her immediately. She still kicked at him, and managed to get him squirming in pain.
Her dress was bloody and covered in dirt, but that didn’t keep Cormac from tearing at the fabric with his bare hands, exposing her underwear as the fabric fell away.
There were other things Cormac was able to see now.
Her glamours were gone.
A trail of love bites was blooming over the rim of her bra. The little purple scar she had as a souvenir from Dolohov almost matched them in colour. The wedding ring glinted on her left hand, making Cormac’s eyes widen in realization.
“You bitch! You’re not just shagging someone, you’re MARRIED?” He growled, immediately regretting the decision. His nose throbbed and one of his eyes were swelling.
He didn’t see the black smoke swirl behind him, slowly forming a menacing figure of a wizard.
“WHO? Who the fuck did you marry? Answer me, you fucking whore!”
Hermione would smile at him now, if her mouth wasn’t silenced.
A large hand grabbed the boy by the collar.
“Me.” 

The first thing Cormac felt was a shiver of fear, trickling down his spine.
That smooth, deep voice could only belong to…
Snape!
It was his last conscious thought before things began to happen very quickly. He was turned around, and a hard fist collided with his jaw.
Now, Cormac was flying through the air, pain radiating through the side of his skull.
Still, he fumbled for his wand to fight back as soon as he landed on a pile of old parchment.
Cormac always considered himself immensely brave.
Too bad he hadn’t also considered himself stupid.

Before the incantation could even leave his bloodied lips, Snape sent a string of glittering hexes flying his way, a succession of his casting so flawless Cormac couldn’t even move before they landed straight against his chest. His stomach. His abdomen.
Pain.
Agony.
If the screams he heard echo through the room came out of his own throat, Cormac didn’t know.
In fact, all he knew was that the billowing robes of the black wizard were taking up most of his vision now, as Snape stood towering above him, his face a grimace of anger and disgust.
“You little swine!” A black wand pressed against his skull as the menacing Potions master bent down, careful to avoid what was now limply hanging from his undid trousers.
“I have a mind to castrate you just for laying one sticky finger on my wife!” He said cooly, but something else flickered in his black eyes.
“I warned you before, McLaggen, your mind won’t be safe from me ever again!”
Thin lips curved maliciously.
“Legillimens!” he hissed.

Cormac felt Snape dive into his mind with a force of a lobotomy procedure. There was only raw raging power, no finesse, no care.
The visions of his growing obsession with Granger flew across his eyes in succession, one of his filthy thoughts melting into another. There were countless moments when Cormac watched. Countless moments when he planned. Memories of him ignoring the girls when they said it was enough. Some of them escaped, some didn’t. He confounded or obliviated them, anyway. They didn’t matter. They were just a poor substitute.
Hermione.
She was the real thing.
His endgame. 

Now Cormac was left in a swirling maze of his own delusional thoughts. And instead of pleasurable, the images began to mix with an accusatory voice that was not his own. Will never be his own.
But the words he kept saying, hissing, growling. They were suddenly becoming true.

Filthy. Disgusting. Rapist. Bully. Monster. Ugly. Stupid. Monster. Appalling. Evil. Rapist. Bully. Monster. Fucker. Ugly. Stupid. Bloody. Swine. Monster. Evil. Monster…Evil…Monster…Ugly…Evil…Monster…
Was he all that, Cormac wondered in his last conscious moments.
He almost felt sorry for doing what he’d done.
It was no longer someone else’s fault.
Guilt washed over him.
The words rang true now. Snape’s voice merged with his own, as the cycle of his filthy thoughts whirled again and again like a loose carrousel.
McLaggen was no longer at the stirring wheel of his thoughts.
He was let loose.
His own madness swallowed him as the only words left whirling in his mind were…ugly…evil…monster…stupid…rapist…bloody…swine…ugly…fucker…evil…evil…

“Severus!”
Thoroughly exasperated, he wondered how many times he’d hear his name on an exclamation before the day was out.
He didn’t move.
He was cradling Hermione in his hands, the runes in the air above her signalling she was alright. He already glamoured the signs of their marriage, in case anyone came trotting in, anyone apart from those who already knew, anyway.
It hurt him to glamour her again.
“Oh, dear…” Minerva crouched down beside him, resting a soothing hand on his shoulder. Such maternal touch, Severus thought.
Did he even deserve it, after what he’d just done?
“Severus, look at me.” Some sternness returned to the witch’s voice, as she sensed his guilt.
He only shook his head.
Now, Minerva placed herself in his line of sight.
“It’s not your fault your wife got attacked!”
Wasn’t it?
He was occluding, and wasn’t paying attention. He was a spy, Gods damn it, he should have known better.
“You can’t know that.” Severus said at last.
“And the boy?” Minerva asked without any preamble.
“He is not himself. Not anymore. He…is caught in his own swirling darkness.” He answered in a way a boy might, with his shoulders slumped and his eyes unfocused.
He kept stroking his wife’s hair.
He didn’t deserve her.

Hermione grimaced, then pushed her eyes open.
“I can attest to the fact that Cormac McLaggen already showed a great deal of madness before you arrived, Severus.”
It was obvious it took a lot of effort for her to speak. 
Severus hung his head over hers, tracing her lips over her forehead.
“You’re alright, love. You’re safe. What ever happens to me, you’re safe.”
“Oh, stop that nonsense immediately!” Minerva finally lost her temper.
“I will second Hermione’s story. You protected her from her attacker, who’s grip on reality was already slipping. The fact he couldn’t get his foolish way triggered him to tip over the edge into insanity. Your presence in his mind was…simply to ensure there was no way to save him.”
Minerva was staring into his black eyes with an astonishing force now.
“Do you understand, Severus? Hermione and I will be firm on this story. You are not taking the fall for protecting your wife.”
Severus could do nothing but nod.
Instead of victorious, he felt devastated. Exhausted. Relieved.
Minerva dared to cup his cheek now.
“Look at me, boy. You saved your wife from a terrible fate today. I am proud of you. Don’t you dare put yourself down for what you’ve done. It was…the right thing.”

Dumbledore entered the room with a few others.
Hermione smiled at her husband, before she feigned sleep.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Severus. You were my knight in shining armour today.” She whispered inside his own thoughts as his colleagues flanked the scene.
“Minerva can help you make sense of this.” Severus spoke to no one in particular, standing up with Hermione still in his arms.
“I need to make sure Miss…Granger…is properly taken care of.” he said as he carried her out of the room. If anyone noticed a lingering haste around her last name, no one said so.

But it pained Severus a great deal just in that moment, to know they were the safest when living a lie.

Chapter Text

Severus didn’t like the idea of talking to anyone at the moment. He was perched on the bed, with Hermione’s sleeping form curling around him. It was only a day since the attack, but they were yet to leave their little nest.
The incident shook them both to the core. Severus carried Hermione straight to the Hospital wing and as soon as she was cleared by Madam Pomfrey, he took her down to the dungeons. Plied with hot chocolate, top notch potions and a lot of tender reassurances, his wife finally fell asleep. She didn’t let go of him not even when she was sleeping dreamlessly. It suited him just fine, since he was already so overwhelmed with the need to protect Hermione and make sure she was alright, he found it hard to leave her side anyway. But Severus couldn’t sleep, not when the connection between them was dulled by the sedatives. He needed to feel her so deeply he couldn’t tell her thoughts from his own.
He loved her so, so much.
Severus didn’t know how to explain it, he simply knew there was this pulsing light inside of him, the light that made him feel the weight of the world fall away from his shoulders like a heavy cloak every time Hermione was near him. The sense of belonging to her, the intimacy they shared in these few precious months healed parts of him he hadn’t believed were possible to heal. If Severus expected the emotions to settle and stabilize once they embarked on their joint path, he now knew they had only intensified.

Of course, Severus didn’t believe that he’d get away with overpowering the maddened McLaggen just that easily. Dumbledore needed his spy and the most likely scenario was that the headmaster will find a way to spin it to his own benefit. 

Hermione’s hand on his thigh spasmed lightly as she began to wake. With her eyes still closed, she nudged her face against the plane of his stomach.
“Severus? What time is it?” she asked groggily.
“It’s barely half past ten in the morning, love. Rest, you are not going anywhere today.”
Her voice was back to normal, thanks to his potions and medicinal tea.
Severus couldn’t get it out of his head how hoarse she sounded when the ordeal was finished. The effort of her body when she was screaming silently left a pretty toll on her body.
Luckily, a sore throat was easy to heal. As were the bruises. The swelling on her head from where she butted McLaggen. Everything was easy to fix. Except for the trauma. That, Severus knew best from his own experience. He hoped his love for Hermione would be enough to guide him through, because she will need him now, need him to regain her confidence. Her self-worth. Her sense of security.
Severus watched the little freckles on the back side of her forearm. He always had a thing for finding patterns. Tracing a finger over her silky skin, he drew a shape of a flower. Was it a peony, or a rose, he wondered.
“What is troubling you? Please tell me. I need to know more than what I feel through the bond.” Hermione said softly, her eyes still misty from sleep.
 Severus loved knowing he was the only man to ever see her like this.
There was no use for hiding his thoughts, he admitted to himself as he sighed.
“Dumbledore…” was all he said.
“He will not charge you, you must know that.” Hermione huffed and raised to sit up next to him.
“If anything, you were the hero. He is the one to blame for not taking precautions.”
Her whiskey eyes were glinting golden.
“I know…that’s what I am worried about. McLaggen will most likely be sent away, and if we are lucky, only a handful of people will know about the incident. The school can’t lose its status of a safe place for the young folk. But there will be a price…there’s always a price with Dumbledore. The man should have been in Slytherin.”
“You only say that because he is biased towards his own House. Gryffindor would hardly fare well if Dumbledore hadn’t been picking up our slack for the last couple of decades.”
Hermione tried to lighten his mood, he knew. He cracked a half smile, the one she loved best. She leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“My hero.” She whispered against the seam of his lips.
Severus kissed her, his fingers digging into the mass of her curls to angle her head.
He kissed her like she was the only woman in the world.
He kissed her like he came home from a war.
He kissed her…and made her forget everything.

A gentle meow interrupted them.
Crookshanks was making his was up to them, carefully climbing over their legs. He butted his head against both of their shoulders as he swished his bottle brush tail. Purring loudly, he settled down between them. They already knew that meant he wasn’t going anywhere for quite an amount of time.
Severus ran his fingers through his fur.
He never thought having a cat would please him. But it did. The orange menace, as he lovingly called the kneazle, came to sleep on his paperwork when he deemed Severus was in need of a break. When Severus was quietly cursing over the idiocy some students wrote in their essays, Crooks would purr under his chair and meow loudly when his curses became increasingly creative. As if stating his superior agreement with Severus’s thoughts.
Meow.
Dunderheads, indeed.

“See, he wants you in bed, resting and recovering.” Severus said lightly.
Hermione smiled and said nothing for a while.
“Luckily, I only have three classes to teach today. I won’t be gone for long.”
Reluctantly, Severus got out of bed and made a quick work of his morning routine.
Hermione drifted off some time during his shorter version of a workout and occlumency practice, while Crooks cuddled in closer to her sleeping form.
Severus kissed the top of her head, finally feeling like he was ready to face the world outside their wards again.
“Keep her safe.” He said to the cat, who was not alert and staring at him with its intelligent yellow eyes.
“I will be back as soon as I can.”
He hadn’t managed to fasten all of his black buttons yet, when a silvery phoenix came floating into the living room.
“Severus, a short word before breakfast, if you please.”