“Few Years Later” au

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Fic Rec #747

Confluence of TruthsbyLiasis

Hermione x Severus Snape

Memories maketh the man. But his memories reveal more to her than she could have imagined - his childhood, his life as a spy, his sacrifices, but most intriguingly, his mother - and her shocking true identity. This is a story about the choices we make, and how they make us. This is a story about how love can find us, if we let it.

COMPLETE: Chapters: 23   - Words: 129,620

Fic Rec #741

The Gates of Azkabanbymirrormarie

Hermione x Severus Snape

On the verge of joining the Death Eaters, Severus has a conversation that changes his mind, with consequences that change his entire world. But his isn’t the only world affected…

WIP as of 30/01/19

Fic Rec #754

The ChitbyAnjanas

Hermione x Severus Snape

All those deemed outside Wizarding society are required to find a spouse. Hermione Granger is terrified. Cooped up inside 12 Grimmauld Place, she makes a list, and Severus observes her attempts.

WIP as of 30/01/19

Emma Watson

Emma Watson

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/30627273

In the end Severus decided to see who it was before deciding whether or not to open the door. The likelihood that it was Minerva was high. He could couldn’t think of anyone else who would be bothered enough to come, and while he hadn’t got a glimpse of the elf that had been delivering food, he had recognised the crockery and cutlery as coming from Hogwarts, and she was certainly the only member of staff that cared enough to make sure he was fed.

He managed to drag himself up to his feet and stumbled towards the front window and pulled the curtain just back enough to peer out. By the light of the moon and the dim lamp further down the street he could see that it was indeed Minerva standing on his doorstep, her face half hidden by the wide brim of her hat. Reaching into her sleeve she pulled out her wand as he watched, pointing it at his front door. Severus smirked to himself, knowing full well that the many layer of warding he’d spent years erecting around his home would be beyond her skill to unravel, laced through as they were with many dark spells.

Feeling the tingle of his wards, he hurried toward the front door, not realising until he’d reached out for the handle that he’d decided to let her in. His smirk faded as he felt the outer layer of his wards drop. The old windbag must be blasting through rather than using any finesse to take them down. He wasn’t why he’d expected any different, not from a Gryffindor, especially this one.

He wrenched the door open, scowling out from the shadows at the witch that seemed completely unsurprised by his appearance at the door, even going so far as to look smug.

“I knew that would get your attention,” she crowed as she pushed past him into the front room. She tisked under her breath as she peered around the dark room, before wordlessly using her wand to conjure a few candles. “I’d hoped that elf was exaggerating, but…” she trailed off as he moved forward a pace, leaving the shadows by the doorway so that the candlelight fell on his face.

“Merlin, Severus. What have you done to yourself, my boy?” Her voice was pained. “I should have forced my way in sooner…”

She stepped forward, lifting her hands to his shoulders as if to draw him into a hug, although her expression carried a hint of wariness, as if he were some wild animal that would spook at her touch.

It had the opposite effect however. He hadn’t even realised how the lack of human contact over the past weeks had affected him, but the moment she touched him he needed more, and he sank into her embrace, shocking her completely as he uncharacteristically broke down and wept on her shoulder.

1 year earlier

Life had settled back down into a routine fairly quickly after that night. He had feared recriminations from Hermione at some point over the way he’d treated her, and had been surprised when she just continued as before, as if nothing had ever happened. Well, on the surface at least.

Weekends were often spent similarly to weekdays, for Hermione was often called into the office to do extra work, or would spend time with her friends. Severus rarely left the house except to visit his apothecary, to buy or gather ingredients, or on rare occasions, visit the few friends he had. He would usually do more reading that on weekdays, sat in his favourite chair by the fire, or complete the few jobs around the house that he wouldn’t allow the house elf to do, but all too often he would have to continue monitoring a potion or two that took a days or even weeks to brew.

Monday to Fridays Hermione would have left for work by the time he crawled out of bed, leaving breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen. He would wolf it down before either descending to his lab to work the day away, or disappearing off to the apothecary that was the front for his business, slipping in the back as always.

It had never been his way to leave important matters, such as the running of a business, to others when he could do them himself, but he’d not been able to deal with the publicity or the sheer number of people who came to gawp at him when he’d first opened the apothecary. He’d quickly started looking for a couple of employees to manage the shop and the simpler brewing. The benefit of having taught the majority of witches and wizarding younger than him was that he already had a good idea of who might meet his exacting standards. Even so, he’d gone through a couple of spineless idiots before he was happy with the small team whom he judged competent enough to not need his constant supervision to brew and run the store and mail order business. The unusual or more difficult potions he brewed himself at home, meaning that on the whole he was able to spend the majority of his time in his own company, which was far preferable to that of the majority of people.

His need for solitude never seemed to extend to his wife, however. She had always been one of the few people whose company he would seek. Some days it was all too easy to curse himself for what he had said to her in the past, not because it was untrue, but because he had done himself out of an agreeable companion. Their conversation was never again as easy and free as it had been before their marriage, and Severus often caught himself wishing things could have been different. But it was impossible. He had made his bed and would have to lie in it. At least it could have been worse, he told himself in commiseration.

The weeks following the ball had been particularly awful, but at least things had eventually begun to improve. For the first couple of months she had spent much of her time in her room, all interactions between them strained, especially at the weekends unless she was out with her friends or doing overtime. Not since that month-long hiatus had she shown any reluctance to come to his bed, although she had continued in the same vein as before; quiet and still, unwilling to let him provide her with any sort of pleasure. She persisted in leaving his bed for her own afterwards, except on one rather memorable occasion when she’d come home drunk, and had promptly fallen asleep, her arms still wrapped around him. He’d left the bed early before she’d awoken in the morning, unwilling to risk her seeing how much he was discomfited by his own enjoyment of her lithe body pressed against his. It had been the first time he’d really noticed that she’d lost weight. When he had reached down to stroke her warm skin, his eyes watching her face warily for any sign of waking, his fingers had encountered ribs and hip bones far more prominent than they had been before. Not that she’d ever had much fat on her to begin with.

He’d started taking an interest in how much she was eating, although it had been hard with her leaving for work so early and spending lunch times at work. In the evenings, however, he had started to make sure there was a good dinner waiting for her at home, and he made sure to sit with her to eat. At first conversation had been extremely stilted, barely more than polite but impersonal questions about each others’ days, and his gentle entreaties for her to eat more.

Over the following months he learned what foods she would be more willing to take seconds of, and began to cook them more often. From the looks she would give him it was clear she had caught on to what he was doing, and although she was clearly not sure of his motives, she never said anything, for which he was glad. Telling her that he didn’t want to fuck a stick wouldn’t have gone down well, and the truth, that he felt hollow and pained whenever he thought of how thin she’d been, probably wouldn’t have been believed anyway. Not that the idea that he was worried about her had even crossed his mind, as unused as he was to caring about others.

It wasn’t long before she gained all the weight she had lost, and even a bit more. He loved how the extra curves looked at felt, and would have tried to show it in their nights together, only she would shut down any attempt at doing anything more than was required to get himself off. Severus could only wonder at her restraint and determination to refuse all pleasure.

He had begun finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes off her, whatever they were doing. He took most pleasure from occasionally sitting quietly with her in the evenings, both with a book in their hands, sure that it was exactly what they would have been doing had he managed to keep his feelings for Lily a secret. Except, they would have possibly been sat together on the sofa, enjoying the touch of each other’s bodies, instead of in separate chairs facing each other. He would have happily spent more time reading with her, except that all too often he felt unable to face her. Something would tighten in his chest at the thought of trying to ignore the occasional glimmer of unshed tears that he would catch in an unguarded moment or the empty smiles she gave him when their eyes met.

When he did manage to push past his own feelings and manage to sit with her for any length of time, however, he would find that whole evenings would go past with him barely taking in a word of his book. If she’d noticed that he rarely turned a page, she’d certainly never said anything. Not that he was trying to be obvious in his silent study of her, either hiding behind the dark curtain of his hair or positioning his book so he could just see her around the edge. She always seemed lost in her own book or her thoughts, rarely looking up at him, but there was something in her face, a quiet melancholy that he knew he had put there. It made his chest ache, and he hated it.

He didn’t understand what it was supposed to mean, or what he was supposed to do about it. Hiding in his lab instead of sitting with her seemed the best thing to do to stop the ache, except his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of what she might be doing. What was she thinking about when she stared for long minutes into the fire? Why did the sight of her chewing her bottom lips as she concentrated on her book send a warm pulse through his body, when it had only ever before made him think of filling her mouth with his cock? The level of restrain it took not to pull her into his arms when he saw her holding back tears would always shake him whenever he thought about it later. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. Why did she torment him with such thoughts?

He couldn’t bring himself to change the way he treated her. She would only have been suspicious of his motives in any case. Instead, he contented himself with small, passive-aggressive acts against her, such as leaving potions ingredients in the kitchen when he knew it annoyed her, or moving her armchair back from the fire so she’d be forced to shift it back to its usual position. Such things were done only to irritate her, his silent retaliation for making him feel something he didn’t understand.

Only, the satisfaction he imagined every time he did something never materialised. He wasn’t quite sure whether his intention was to annoy her, or to actually provoke a rise out of her, but nothing seemed to faze her. Each time she would calmly push her chair back to the spot she preferred, or would move his ingredients out of the way, sometimes with a gentle reminder not to do it again. The strange, considering looks she would give him were a far cry from the response he’d expected, and instead of a sense of satisfaction, he would only feel something like shame curdling through his bones. Not that it would stop him from doing it again and again, but sometimes he wasn’t sure who he was hurting more with his petty vindictiveness.

But then things had changed once more, although it had taken him a few weeks to realise what was happening. His wife had a demanding job, and he was never sure exactly what time she would be home, or if she would have to work at the weekend. Which was why, when she started staying later and later at work, and spending more of her weekends there to, it wasn’t immediately obvious. But after the second week in which she’d not arrived home until after ten every day, he began to notice.

He still waited for her, the dinner he had prepared sitting under a warming charm until she arrived, but now he began to try and find out what exactly was keeping her so late. He would ask more and more probing questions about what she had been up to, checking the morning papers each day to see what was happening at the Ministry that could explain what she was doing. But besides the usual news there was nothing that could account for the extra hours she seemed to be working. His questioning over dinner only told him that she had a secret. Her skills at lying were no match for his at observation. Years of spying had made him extremely adept at reading people, yet besides the fact that she was keeping something hidden from him, he had no clue as to what it was.

Maybe it was his own fears that made him jump to conclusions, but as her strange behaviour continued he couldn’t help but think the worst of her. The way she refused to meet his eyes over their shared dinner, how she seemed not to need to take her pleasure with him the way he did with her, or how she kept tight-lipped over what was taking up the extra hours away from home, all led him to believe one thing: She was having an affair.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/27772809

Severus took another large sip from the bottle, noting with alarm that there now seemed to be more air than liquid inside. He was definitely going to need more if he was going to be able to drown out the memory of one of the most utterly stupid things he’d ever done.

The thought of her, wanton and needy for his touch as she had been that first night made his heart clench, just as it had done the morning he’d woken up cold and alone. Of course, back then he’d attributed it to indigestion, but now, despite the drink fuelled haze, he could view his own past feelings with a clearer eye than he’d had at the time. Even then, he’d loved her. He was unfamiliar enough with the emotion to not be able to pinpoint the exact moment his infatuation with he had become more.

He had wanted her or so long, perhaps he had confused love with obsession. After all, he had managed it the other way round for so many years. He had been obsessed with Lily, he could understand that now that he had something to compare his feelings to. But as strongly as he’d tried to hold onto his want for her, it had not been long before thoughts of his new wife had pushed the memories aside.

2 years, 5 months earlier

It didn’t take long for him to realise why he’d woken up alone. Upon exiting his bedroom he’d noticed the door to the smaller bedroom at the back, his room as a child, was slightly ajar. Silently he’d approached and peeked in. What he’d seen had caused him to push the door open wide and step in. For years the room had been bare, ever since he’d cleared out the sad remnants of his childhood and moved into what had been his parents’ bedroom. The memories weren’t as strong there; he’d rarely been allowed to enter. Even as a young child he’d known not to go in, even if he was sick in the night, for fear of his father’s anger. His own room, however, had seen so much of his own neglect, beatings from his father, years of cowering in his bed like a coward as he listened to him rage and batter his mother downstairs. He’d stripped both his old room and his parents’ the summer he’d been required to stay at home by the Dark Lord, but while he’d replaced the furnishing’s in the latter, he’d just vanished everything from his own room, leaving nothing but a few battered pieces of furniture, plain whitewashed walls and dusty floorboards.

But now, the room was crammed with colour, the barren remains of his childhood hidden behind bright rugs, piles of books and various knick-knacks. The shabby old bed had been repaired and was made up with deep purple covers. His old wardrobe and bedside cabinet had been similarly treated, and the former now held a lamp which he recognised from Hermione’s old flat. In fact, he realised as he looked around, he remembered seeing most items before; the oak bookcase that was already overloaded, the rug from in front of her fire, a small old-fashioned writing desk now tucked under the small, pokey window.

How she’d got it all in the tiny room he wasn’t sure, and he wondered what she’d done with the rest of the stuff from her flat until he remembered just how adept she was with a shrinking charm. She’d sold the flat not long before the wedding and had moved into Grimmauld Place temporarily. Clearly she had shrunk her belongings into the smallish trunk that Potter had brought over the night before the wedding.

Looking around at the space she’d carved out for herself, Severus could feel his fury mounting, not only at the fact that she was clearly planning on sleeping in the room and not with him, but that she’d changed it without permission. It was his house. He ignored the voice that reminded him that actually, no it was hers now as well. He turned quickly and swept out of the room to seek and confront her.

He found her in the kitchen, her back to him, hands still wrapped round a now-empty mug. He almost turned and snuck back out, unsure of what to say to her. But then, with a sigh, she stood suddenly, picking up her mug as she pushed her chair back. Without thinking, her name fell quietly from his lips:

“Hermione…”

He’d come in so quietly that she was startled, almost dropping her mug. She turned towards him, and his angry words died in his throat. She’d clearly been crying, the glamours he could just make out on her face not quite enough to mask the red around her eyes. But no amount of magic could erase the sadness evident in them, which was perhaps why she quickly shied away from meeting his gaze and forced a more cheerful expression onto her face.

“I made breakfast, although I wasn’t sure when you’d be up so it’s been sitting under a warming charm.” She started to busy herself with tidying away her own plate, and grabbed his from the kitchen surface, setting it on the table. “Would you like some coffee?”

Severus watched her whirl around the kitchen from his position by the door. His new wife was clearly nervous of him. Perhaps she was worried about his reaction to her redecoration. And well she should be… It wasn’t until she was laying out his breakfast on the table that he finally moved, striding across to her and catching hold of her wrist as she finished putting his coffee down.

“Hermione…” he repeated gruffly, ready to confront her about the bedroom.

She stilled, face down, offering no resistance to his tight grip. Silently he waited, and after a few moments she slowly lifted her head. He wasn’t sure whether it was the spiritless look in her eyes or the way her hand trembled beneath his fingers that did it, but suddenly his anger dissipated as if it had never been. Finding it suddenly difficult to look down into her warm honey eyes, his gaze fell on the breakfast she’d made for him. It was his favourite; eggs benedict. He frowned slightly. He was sure he’d never told her that. Perhaps it was just coincidence that she’d chosen to make it for him. For all he knew it could be her favourite too.

“Severus…” came the quiet whisper from beside him, and with a start he realised that he had been squeezing her wrist harder than necessary. He let go of her, and immediately she tucked her hand behind her back, her face a pale mask. Refusing to apologise – after all, it was her fault that he was irritated with her that morning, he sat down at the table and pulled the plate towards him.

It was perfect, the eggs were the consistency that he preferred – not as runny as was usual with this dish, and the hollandaise tasted just the way he’d convinced the house elves at Hogwarts to prepare his a few years previously. It was hard to enjoy, however, when he could feel something that felt horribly like shame curdling in his stomach. He could only conclude that she’d gone to the effort of finding out exactly what he liked as a special surprise. Why she’d still bothered to make it for him after what he’d said to her the previous night he wasn’t sure.

He only turned round to speak to her once he’d emptied his plate and finished the last sip of his coffee, having taken his time to decide what to say to her, but the kitchen was empty. He’d not even heard her leave.

Instead of going after her, he collected the book he was currently working his way through and retreated to his lab in the basement, where he spent the rest of the day brewing and reading – not hiding, of course. He didn’t emerge until past 8, when his stomach was beginning to hurt from lack of food since breakfast. Hoping Hermione had eaten already he slipped quietly into the kitchen, intending to find something in the cupboard and disappear back downstairs until late. No such luck. How long she’d actually been waiting for him he wasn’t sure, but it had been long enough for her to cast a warming charm over the large pot in the centre of the table. Again he thought of retreating, but she’d clearly heard him already, for she turned suddenly, and upon seeing him, beckoned for him to join her. Smoothing out his frown before it had even begun to form on his face, he slunk around the table and sat down. What was she up to? Why was she treating him so nicely, when his own experience with upset women told him they liked to get noisy and cry a lot?

Conversation over their meal was almost non-existent, with Hermione occasionally breaking the silence to ask him questions about the house, where certain objects were, and the way he preferred things to be done around the house. His answers were short and to the point, and often consisted of little more than him telling her what she was not allowed to touch or use. The longer they sat, the easier it was to tell just how hard she was trying to keep her emotions under control. In the lull between questions he would catch the way her carefully constructed expression would waver, and the sadness would creep back into her eyes. The topic of their sleeping arrangements seemed to be the elephant in the room, despite Severus wanting to confront her over it. But there was something about the atmosphere that he didn’t want to ruin. It was a glimpse at the peaceful home life he’d never had growing up, especially if he ignored the underlying tension between the two of them, and he wanted to pretend a little longer that all was well.

It was still torture, sitting across from her and knowing that despite their newly married status, that he most assuredly would not be enjoying the delights that he would have he’d been able to keep his damn mouth shut. Even in her misery, with dulled eyes and pale complexion, he wanted her, the obsessive desire that had built up over the past years barely appeased by the one night of passion they had shared. By the time they’d both finished their meals, he was more than ready to make his escape from the temptation that she presented, and he left her clearing up the dinner while he went to ostensibly check on a potion that was simmering in his lab, but in reality he needed a break from her company to give his libido a chance to cool before he did something stupid.

When he emerged an hour later, he found her in the sitting room, curled up in an armchair with a book. Her only response to his entrance was an empty smile directed at him, before she returned her concentration to the book in her lap. He pulled a book from off the shelves and sat in his own chair to read, occasionally glancing up at his wife. A couple of hours passed in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages as they were turned. As the clock on the mantelpiece struck 11, Severus finally noticed how late it had become. He needed to be up early to tend to his potion, and after his restless night’s sleep, he needed to get to bed.

Looking up at Hermione, Severus noted the stubborn set to her jaw, and he careful study of the page in front of her, although her eyes were red and bleary. Clearly she’d been waiting for him to go to bed first. With a sigh he snapped his book shut, and stiffly got to his feet. Feeling horribly awkward, he replaced the book on the shelf and headed towards the stairs, stopping for a moment at the door and turning his head to look at her. She never looked up. At the creak of the first step, however, a quiet voice called to him.

“Good night, Severus.”

He froze, opening his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. Good? There’s nothing good about it. He started to climb the stairs, hating the way each one creaked loudly. A quick visit to the bathroom later and he was shutting his bedroom door behind him. His dark furnishings reflected his mood. He could have been fucking her again this evening, maybe even had her several times already that day. He was surely the biggest idiot he knew, and that was saying something, considering the number of utterly incompetent students he’d had in his classroom over the years.

He heard her soft footsteps cross the landing a short while later, after he’d already crawled into bed, pausing slightly in front of his room before continuing down to the one she’d taken for hers. He strained his ears to hear any further sound but there was nothing, and he could only assume she’d put up a silencing charm, as he knew from experience that even little sounds carried far in the old house. It took him a long time to drift off that night, and when he finally did, he was plagued with restless sleep and fitful dreams.

As the first week of their marriage passed by, he began to wonder whether he was going to have to drag her to his bed to carry out the Ministry decree before the end of the second. The Ministry had insisted on the implementation of a charm that would alert them to any couple not meeting the requirements as part of the wedding ceremonies that fell under the new law. By the time Wednesday, a full week after their wedding, rolled around again, they still hadn’t spoken about what must happen that evening. Severus had made sure to take some food with him down into his lab before Hermione arrived home from work, so he didn’t need to go up at dinner time. He had no desire to sit opposite his wife in awkward silence as they both avoided the one thing that needed to be discussed. He was frustrated enough with the situation, having to spend so much time in her company, lusting after her, but without being able to have her. This night hadn’t been able to come fast enough.

By 10.30 he couldn’t pretend to himself that he could do anymore that evening, and so, steeling himself for the long awaited confrontation, he trudged up the stairs. He was surprised to find the kitchen and sitting room both dark and silent. Despite the cool April weather, it seemed as if Hermione had not bothered to light the fire this evening at all and it was markedly cooler than in the warmth of his lab. It seemed as if she’d already gone to bed. Shit… He began to climb the stairs with a heavy heart. Despite the circumstances, he’d been looking forward to slaking his lust for her, he would never be capable of forcing himself on her if she refused to abide by the law and accept him into her bed, even if it meant the two of them taking a trip to Azkaban. Hopefully she wouldn’t refuse him if he knocked at her door, although the thought of fucking his wife is his small childhood bed sent him cold.

To his surprise, when he reached the top of the stairs, he found his own bedroom door slightly open, a weak beam of light crossing the dingy landing carpet in front of him. Hating the way his heart leapt – she’d come to him of her own accord once more – he peered through the gap. She was already in his bed, reclining against the pillows with a book in her lap. The nerve of her… to sit there as if she’d not eschewed his bed for the past week. Suddenly irritated, he flung the door open with a bang, hoping to make her jump, but she only looked up at him for a moment with a tight smile, before returning her eyes to her book.

As he stalked closer he could see that she wasn’t as relaxed as she seemed. Her face was pale and he could see how tightly her fingers were clutching the book.

“What are you doing?” he snapped as he came to stand by the bed.

She looked back up with a feigned look of innocence. “I assumed we’d be more comfortable in here, rather than squeezing into my single bed. Unless…” She faltered when his scowl didn’t disappear. “…you don’t wish to… only it needs to be tonight, or the Min…”

Not wanting the reminder that the Ministry law was the only reason his wife was willing to grace his bed with her presence, his reply was harsher than he’d meant. “Don’t be foolish, girl, of course tonight is acceptable. May I know when you plan to fulfil the second of our weekly copulatory requirements?”

“Oh… l I thought perhaps tomorrow evening…”

“That will suffice,” he replied sharply, turning away to start unbuttoning his jacket, trying to hide the desire he knew would be shining in his eyes at the thought of fucking her. He was acutely aware of the silence behind him as he quickly undressed and pulled his dressing gown on. Just the thought of what was to happen was making hi hard, so he made sure to keep his back to her. He left the room with a muttered, “I won’t be long,” and disappeared off to the bathroom where he took a perfunctory shower to rid himself of the potion fumes that clung to him after a day’s brewing. By the time he’d returned to the bedroom Hermione had put the book aside and dimmed the light.

He crossed the room quickly, pretending not to see the nervousness on her face, and quickly divested himself of his dressing gown and slipped under the covers. As silence reigned for a few moments Severus could only think back and compare this to the last time he’ had her in his bed, full of heat and passion or him, not the cold fish that lay next to him now. For the umpteenth time, he cursed himself for not being able to lie to her about his feelings. He’d been a spy for as long as she’d been alive, for Merlin’s sake, lying had been second nature to him for almost as long as he’d lived. So why had he been unable to do so to her this time?

Hermione shifted slightly beside him, bringing him back to the moment, and he rolled to face her. Ignoring the apprehensive look on her face, Severus began to tug the covers off her, realising with delight that at some point she’d rid herself of the nightdress she’d been wearing earlier. Immediately he could feel himself growing hard once more. He may not love her, but Merlin he desired her. He couldn’t help but lower his mouth to one puckered bud, even as his fingers trailed across her stomach to gently cup her other breast. She was strangely tense beneath him, and at first her unnatural stillness was easy to ignore as his own need mounted, but he quickly found his pride demanded some sort of response from her. He began to lave and suck her nipple with fervour, gently using his hand to caress her and flick at her bud with his thumb.

The strangled gasp that tore from her throat made him smirk against her warm skin. He let his hand trail down her soft stomach and down between her legs, which he gently pushed apart for better access. Brushing his fingers across her opening he was pleased to find that despite her cold demeanour, she was wet already. However, when he lifted his face to look at hers he was dismayed to find her eyes full of unshed fears. Bugger… He didn’t want to do this if she was really that unwilling. He pulled back a little.

“Hermione…” he started.

She clutched at him, tugging him back towards her. “Don’t stop, Severus.”

“I don't…”

“Please… Severus,” she whispered. “Don’t make me beg.”

When he still held back, uncertain, she sighed gently, closing her eyes.

“Severus, I… I need you to… fuck me… now,” she bit out quietly, pulling his head back down to her breast.

Pushing away his unease, Severus did as she asked. Deciding that it was pointless continuing to tease her with more foreplay he quickly shifted to lie between her legs, holding himself with one hand at her entrance, and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, her full lips parted slightly, and at the same moment he pushed into her tight heat he impulsively leant down to kiss them. Unknowingly, at the same moment she turned her head to the side, away from him, and awkwardly he buried his face in her neck instead as he began to rock his hips back and forth.

Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, holding him tight against her as he hips tilted to accommodate him fully. Severus groaned in pleasure as he began to thrust harder. She was still so tight, and the soft skin of her breasts felt like silk against his chest. She really was exquisite, her form slender and lithe, but not scrawny, with just enough curves to be womanly instead of childlike. Not like Lily of course, certainly not as stunningly beautiful, with her red hair and piercing green eyes, and her height gave her a bearing that Hermione would never have. Oh gods, Lily, how could I have been so stupid to push you away?

And now he’d also fucked up the best thing to happen to him since he destroyed his and Lily’s friendship. It seemed like he was doomed to repeat his mistakes over and over. Well, he may have wrecked the chance to have Hermione his bed every night, but at least he would be guaranteed something at least. It was still a thousand times better than his alternatives. Besides, he could pretend, like he had with all the previous women, that it was Lily lying beneath him. Not that you have done so far with Hermione… No, he’d desired the girl long enough that even thoughts of Lily had been pushed aside for some time. Such a state couldn’t allowed to continue though. Lily was, and always would be, his one true love.

Hermione had begun to undulate her pelvis in time with his, causing him to penetrate deeper, although she was still silent. Feeling his climax approaching, he began to snap his hips faster in an effort to push himself over the edge, neglecting his partner’s pleasure in his own blissful haze. It wasn’t long before he could feel his balls tighten, and with a shout of completion, he emptied his impotent seed deep inside her, before slumping down on her in exhaustion.

After a few moments catching his breath, he was in enough possession of his wits to lift his head, and immediately realised she’d put the light out. When did that happen? Wordless and wandless though… impressive! Not that he would ever tell her. Feeling his softening cock slip out of her slick pussy, he extricated himself from between her legs and collapsed to one side, turning onto his back. Considering how he had avoided cuddling with her before, he still felt a strange sense of loss when she did not roll with him and wrap her arms around him this time. Don’t be such a fucking soft touch, you idiot!

In the darkness he could hear her shifting, and the movement of the mattress told him that she’d turned onto her side, facing away from him once more. He hated the way that single motion made him feel rejected. You rejected her, you idiot, when you told her you loved Lily. Perhaps he could draw her back somehow, if only to appease his own need. He’d been uncaring of her pleasure in the heat of the moment, after all, it wasn’t as if he needed to keep her happy so she would return to his bed, but now that he was sated he suddenly felt a peculiar duty to make sure she felt the same.

“Did you… ” He paused, unsure how to word it.

“Did I what, Severus?” was her quiet response after a few seconds.

“Did you enjoy yourself… did you cum, I mean.” The moment the words were out of his mouth he cringed at the crassness of the question.

There was silence for a moment before he hear the faintest of sighs. “No… It doesn’t matter.”

He grimaced into the darkness, her words wounding his masculine pride. If that’s how she wanted to be, then he wouldn’t bother making the effort again. See how long she could go without the frustration being too much. It wasn’t like it would make a difference to their relationship either way. He was more than willing to take what he wanted and leave her hanging if she wanted to be so blasé about it, although he wasn’t too impressed that their sex life would probably become monotonous fairly quickly if she was just going to lie on her back and take it.

Remembering how she had snuck from his bed the week before, he wanted to see whether she would leave once more, so let his breathing deepen and slow after a few minutes. Severus judged it to be about fifteen minutes later that she carefully slipped out from under the covers and left the room silently without the aid of a light, pulling the door closed with a quiet click. After a few moments he rolled over with a sigh, pulling the pillow she’d been using to his chest. It smelt very faintly of her shampoo, and unconsciously he buried his nose in it as he pondered just what he was going to do, but despite his annoyance at the situation with Hermione, it wasn’t long before he slipped deeply into a post-orgasmic sleep.

When Severus work up the next morning with the scent still in his nose it took him a few moments to realise that his wife hadn’t returned at some point, and that the warm object that he was pressing his morning hard on against was not her pert and rather lovely backside. It wasn’t long before he realised that not only was he was still clutching the pillow tightly, but that he’d dreamt of Hermione half the night. Frustrated and turned on by the vague memories of some rather erotic dreams he climbed out of bed, his bad mood set for the day.

He was fairly foul to Hermione every chance he got that day; at breakfast before she left for work, the moment she got back home, all through the dinner she’d cooked for him, although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why if asked. As he crawled into bed besides an even quieter and paler Hermione that night, he did wonder for a moment if he’d been trying to see how hard he could push her before she refused to sleep with him.

His last coherent thought as he insinuated himself between her thighs was, Thank Merlin she doesn’t give in easily.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/26705922

Severus had made it back into the kitchen without any more mishaps, although he was now struggling not to throw up everything he’d drunk recently, having mistakenly taken a sip from a bottle of (thankfully) diluted bubotuber pus. It had been in a plain dark bottle, and he’d been so elated at having found a bottle of spirits that he’d missed he’d not even checked what it was. He couldn’t even blame her for leaving it where it might be mistaken for something drinkable. She’d asked him so many times not to leave his ingredients lying around in the kitchen, as he sometimes did when he’d just bought or collected them.

When he’d realised how much it had annoyed her he’d started doing it on purpose, at least until he’d come up from his lab to see why his dinner was late, and had found half-cooked and abandoned pans on the stove and no sign of her. It wasn’t until he spotted his freshly picked Deadlyius mushrooms that he’d left on the counter, strewn across the chopping board that he realised what she’d done. They were so similar looking to normal mushrooms it was no surprise that she’d picked them up without thinking, instead of the ones that she’d bought from the supermarket.

He’d removed them without a word to her about it, and when she’d finally reappeared and to finish cooking and serve dinner, she’d said nothing either. He’d noted how she’d tried to keep her left hand as hidden as possible as they’d eaten, but he’d spotted the redness covering her fingers and felt a slight pang of guilt about what he knew was sure to have been a nasty and painful reaction. From then on he’d done his best not to leave potions ingredients out, although he’d still forgotten on occasion. Like this time… he thought, cursing his own stupidity as he fought not to retch. He grabbed the counter to steady himself until the need to do so had passed.

Gods, his mouth tasted like a flobberworm’s arse! He needed a drink to wash away the taste of the pus. Ignoring the tap, he shakily made his way to where he’d left his bottle. He was faintly disgusted with himself for feeling proud of the fact he’d managed to pick it up and put it to his lips on the first go. The incident with the rogue bottle had clearly sobered him up slightly. He needed more, quickly, as he wasn’t yet ready to face the world without a high alcohol to blood ratio.

2 Years, 5 months earlier.

By the time the news of the marriage law had finally hit the papers Severus had been getting fed up with courting and wanted nothing more than to just get on and marry the girl. He wasn’t made out for all the niceties that came with actually wooing a woman, rather than just bedding her. All the flirting and teasing he been doing with her was just as frustrating for him as it was for her. He’d never wanked so hard and so often in his life, and she was clearly in two minds about his decision not to touch her until they were married. She wanted him, desperately, but was flattered by his gentlemanlike behaviour.

He’d been determined to wait for the law to come into force, however, as it would not only stop her from divorcing him as soon as she realised what an arse he really was, but would also guarantee him sex twice a week, even if they were barely on speaking terms, until three children had been produced. Not that there would be any. Severus had already taken care of that with an adapted dark spell that wouldn’t be traceable using the current techniques. And if, after some time, the Ministry started to question why there were no children, then he already had in mind an untraceable potion that he would be able to slip her to abort a child, making it look like a miscarriage. The Ministry was unlikely to force them to divorce if they couldn’t find any reason in either of them to stop a child being carried to full term. Severus was determined to reap all the benefits of the law, and avoid all the negatives.

Lucius had actually given him a couple of days’ warning before the law was published, and upon reflection he’d decided not to say anything to her until she came to him about it. He wanted to give the impression that he was unconcerned, that it didn’t affect him or his plans, and that it wasn’t worth a moment of his attention. But when he’d not heard from her by the next morning he’d started to grow worried. Had she guessed his scheme and decided to run out on his without a word or even an owl? By early evening of the second day he had worked himself up into a righteous fury, sure that she’d scarpered, the unfaithful cow.

When he’d turned up a few hours later at her front door he’d struggled to keep his composure. He’d wanted to be angry with her for not coming to him, but he couldn’t afford to act out the way he felt. He’d forced the emotion from his face as he banged on the door, but as it was flung open he’d not been able to prevent some of it showing. Luckily she’d misinterpreted it as worry, and when he’d risked a quick incursion into her surface thoughts he’d seen how relieved she was to see him. In the end it had turned out that she’d been worried that he would feel pressured into marrying her, and had tried to give him a bit of space.

Hermione had been fretting herself into a state since she’d seen the paper, thinking that he’d run from her. She’d recalled an old conversation between the two of them, a year or so previous, when he’d expressed an aversion to having children, and she’d assumed that he would leave the country rather than be forced to have at least three. Severus had had to do a lot of reassuring before she calmed down and began to believe him when he said he was more than prepared to adhere to the law and marry her as soon as they could arrange the wedding.

He’d even gone to the trouble of apparating back home quickly while she went to the bathroom to clear up her blotchy face, to grab the old paste diamond ring he’d found in his mother’s jewellery box. He had no idea whose it had been, but it beat spending the money on a new one, and the girl was sentimental enough that she’d loved the story he’d told her of how it had been passed down in his family for a couple of generations. He’d even gone down on one knee. She’d been ridiculously happy, of course, and he’d gone home later feeling awfully smug with himself. She’d not suspected a thing.

So the task of planning a wedding had started. Severus couldn’t really have cared less about dresses and decorations, as long as Hermione was in his bed at the end of it. His future bride wanted some time to prepare her dream celebration, even though he’d just wanted to get married as soon as possible. He would have been happy to have gone to the Ministry immediately; He’d already waited long enough. Lucius had actually managed to get the law pushed back a few weeks to give Narcissa time to arrange the lavish affair she’d had her heart set on ever since Draco had been born, and Severus wasn’t impressed that his friends’ selfishness had delayed his own ‘happy’ day by so long.

Severus had attended Draco’s wedding, although he’d absolutely hated it, thinking the whole thing ridiculously opulent and over the top – what self-respecting man would agree to such a nauseatingly pink and glittery themed wedding? What had Narcissa been thinking? Everyone else had thought the whole thing was stunning, but Severus had barely been able to touch anything in the worry that something might rub off on him. He’d almost gagged when he’d realised that both Lucius and Draco had pink incorporated into their dress robes. The former even had a ribbon in the same shade to tie back his hair. Even worse, they both seemed to rather like what they were wearing. It had only reinforced his long-held beliefs about the two of them. Lucius had always put too much thought into what he was wearing, and Draco had inherited his father’s love of his own reflection.

The whole affair had set him to worrying about his own upcoming nuptials. Merlin help him, he’d hoped Hermione wasn’t going to want anything like that. A nice simple ceremony was all he wanted, some quick vows, with the minimum amount of witnesses required, and the only celebration after being at home, in his bedroom. Women though, he understood, usually wanted far more, but he hoped that Hermione being the practical girl she was, would be easily persuaded otherwise.

Hermione had actually been invited to Draco’s wedding, but despite having forgiven the Malfoys, her memories of the Manor were still too vivid to allow her entry, even for such a celebration. So he’d taken the chance the next day when he saw her, to tell her about the grotesque display he’d been forced to attend, hoping to get some idea of what she was wanting, and to discourage any thoughts of a big wedding by declaring his abhorrence of such an idea.

Luckily Hermione had seemed to agree with him that the wedding sounded ghastly. She was generally a sensible girl, not prone to dreams of romantic nonsense or much of the juvenile silliness that most of her sex seemed to exhibit. For all her pureblood ‘sophistication’, Narcissa was actually no better than the empty-headed girls – Miss Brown came to mind, - that he’d taught or the past twenty years. It was just one way in which his Hermione showed herself to be far superior, and part of a growing list of reasons why he was glad he had managed to snare her.

Of course in the end, he’d not been able to persuade Hermione against having a small party, just a quiet dinner with the friends who had been invited to the ceremony. He’d been against even that, but had eventually agreed when she’d pointed out that they didn’t want to look like they were getting married only for the sake of the law. There had already been a large number of ‘quickie’ weddings, nothing more than a rushed and impersonal ceremony, as everyone hurried to snag the best partner they could find. The Weasley boy and Miss Brown had married a few weeks previous, as the latter was already pregnant, while Potter and Miss Weasley’s ceremony would be a few weeks after Severus’ own. Both of them had taken a while to come to terms with Hermione’s intention to marry him, although she had only let them stew for a month before harassing them into submission.

He’d seen Hermione’s point though, so he had to put up with the indignity of his bride being walked in by Potter, in front of a rather larger than he would have wished group of friends, most of whom were Hermione’s. The small contingent of Hogwarts’ teachers that had turned up had sat on his side of the hall, although he was sure they were really there for Hermione’s sake, rather than his. There had been no family on either side. His were all gone, or too distantly related for him to bother with, while hers were currently still sulking in Australia.

All of this meant that right now he was currently getting to the end of his tether with all the merriment around him. The only thing keeping him from going insane was the sight of his bride’s breasts, unbound and loose under her traditional wedding robe. He’d always suspected himself to be a masochist, but the way he’d been teasing himself with the thoughts of her, knicker-less and naked beneath the loosely fitting material was definitely a form of self-flagellation. It was taking all his self-restraint not to grab her and apparate directly to his room, especially when she reached across the table and a breast brushed against his arm.

He’d already wanked twice today, and still he felt as if he was ready to burst at the slightest touch from her. It was a couple of years since he’d admitted his attraction to her to himself, over 5 months since he had decided to have her – 5 months without the company of another woman. At least the ridiculous antics of his wife’s friends were enough of a distraction that he didn’t embarrass himself with a display of his bodily functions.

He watched with a sneer as several of the recently engorged Weasely clan started laughing at something Minerva had been quietly whispering to those around her. Something vulgar, he was sure, and no doubt aimed at himself, considering the way some of the group were stealing glances at him. The old hag may have appeared to be a dried up old prude to her students, but there was no one to match her for crudeness when she’d had a few to drink.

“Hurry up and leave, will you?” Lucius moaned in his ear. “It would be bad manners for the guests to depart so early with the bride and groom still here. You’ll force us to be rude if you don’t go soon.

Severus turned his head just far enough to make out all four of the Malfoy’s watching the mass of rowdy Gryffindors across the room with barely concealed disgust. “I agree, it’s time to leave. I can’t stand much more of this either,” he confided. “I only wanted a quick ceremony and to return straight back to Spinner’s End. But as you know just as well as I do, that it’s the appearance of it is that matters.”

Lucius muttered something incomprehensible as he turned back to Narcissa, and Severus looked back out over his guests. Most of them were well into their cups, and caught up in the spirit of the celebration. His gaze was drawn to the two that stood out; the youngest Weasely boy and his vacuous wife. The boy seemed barely aware of the merriment around him, instead alternating between scowling into his cup, nodding his head absentmindedly to whatever his wife was whispering in his ear, and glaring across the tables at Hermione.

Miss Brown – Mrs Weasely, rounder than normal with another red-headed brat growing inside her, was clearly trying to distract her husband from his sulk. Judging by the barely restrained look of fury that she was sporting, she knew exactly what his problem was, as did Severus. Hermione had told him, early in their friendship, how long it had taken Ron to get past the fact that she wasn’t interested in him, despite the single kiss they’d shared during the Battle of Hogwarts. What she hadn’t said, but what he had known for ages, was that she wasn’t interested because she had feelings for him. Severus had ascertained through snippets of conversation over the following years what Hermione being too naïve to realise for herself; that the boy had never gotten over her. He was convinced Weasely had only started seeing Miss Brown in a failed attempt to make Hermione jealous.

Smirking at his obvious distaste for the celebration, - Potter had unfortunately adjusted to the idea of his best friend marrying the dreaded dungeon bat quicker than Severus would have liked, so Severus had to get his kicks somewhere; he waited until the redhead’s gaze fell on him. When their eyes met, Severus pushed gently into his mind, seeing straight away that his suspicions about the boy’s feelings for Hermione were correct. Smug in the knowledge that he had got the girl for once, Severus quickly projected a scene back into Weasley’s mind.

As his mind filled with the image of the girl he coveted, writhing and moaning Severus’ name as he fucked her furiously, Weasely’s face turned red and splotchy. He turned away, breaking Severus’ contact with his mind, and standing so quickly he nearly knocked his wife in the face, he left the room, looking as if he was going to be sick.

Severus resisted the inane urge to poke his tongue out at the back of the retreating figure, and instead contented himself with a smirk. He glanced to his right to check that his bride hadn’t caught any of the exchange, but found her speaking in low undertones to her maid of honour, Miss Weasely, beside her. The girl was openly grinning, while Hermione’s cheeks were painted in a faint blush. When the former spotted Severus looking, she gently nudged her friend. Hermione looked round and when she realised she was being watched the colour on her cheeks deepened. Interesting… he thought. What were you talking about…? He pressed lightly into her surface thoughts, to find that the two of them had been discussing her upcoming… deflowering. Ginny had been giving her some tips, based on what she and Harry… He pulled out with a shudder. He did not need to know that about Potter.

Hermione seemed to misinterpret his grimace, for she laid a comforting hand on his arm and leaned across with a smile. “Thank you for putting up with this for me, Severus. I know you don’t like parties. I think we’ve been here long enough if you want to go now.”

The redness in her cheeks was fading, and he found himself wanting to put it back again. Her embarrassment at her own innocence he found entrancing. He stood immediately, pulling her to her feet, and slipped his arm around her to hold her tight against him.

“I’ve been wanting to be alone with you all day,” he murmured into her ear, taking care to use his voice to full effect, wanting to see her response. She blushed prettily again, the red intensifying as others began to notice and call out to them. Thank Merlin it was time to leave; the self-restraint that he had been fostering for years where his new wife was concerned was about to snap.

“If you will excuse us… I believe it is time for my wife and I to be leaving.” He felt a thrill as she tucked her face into his chest in embarrassment. He could feel her breasts pressed up against him, and the thought that he would be granted free access to them - and more - in a matter of minutes made his heart beat faster in anticipation. He tightened his arm around her waist, and to the gentle cheers and good wishes of the other guests, he apparated them straight back to his house, and to his bedroom.

He gave her no chance to get her bearings, instead, his lips quickly descended on hers. He kissed her deeply, plundering her mouth until she was breathless and shaking in his arms. He pulled away for a moment to smirk down at her, and to locate the ties on the back of her neck.

As she felt his fingers undo the ribbon she finally seemed to come to her senses, her eyes suddenly becoming focused.

“Wait Severus. Not yet…” She tried to pull his fingers away but he barely noticed, instead deftly evading her and moving onto the first of the row of buttons below, even as he reached down to kiss her again. She lost herself for a moment again, before suddenly remembering her objections and trying to push him off.

He finally realised his advances weren’t being returned, and his blood turned cold for a moment. Had she changed her mind? It would be all too easy for her to leave him if the marriage hadn’t been consummated. She had a couple of months left to find another to marry. His chest clenched at the thought. She’s mine…

“What’s the matter?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, stroking the skin there gently. “Do you not want to…?”

“That’s not it.”

She blushed again, looking away, and he couldn’t help but follow the red downwards towards her chest, now that the neckline was sagging and low.

“It’s just, I… I bought something to put on… you know, something nice. And there should be a bottle chilling somewhere…”

He laughed in relief as her words reassured his that flight was the last thing on her mind. He pulled her flush against him once more and started kissing down her now exposed neck.  “I’m more concerned with getting this off,” he growled once he felt he relax a bit into his arms again.  

“But… I wanted…”

Hermione trailed off as his hand came up to gently cup a breast for the first time, his thumb brushing expertly across a sensitive nipple. She shuddered delightfully in his arms, sagging slightly with the onslaught of sensations and he took the opportunity to back her slowly towards the bed.

“What I want is to get you out of this dress,” he murmured into the sweet spot behind her ear. Gods she tasted so good, he was finding it hard not to pin he straight to the bed and devour her. “Any other clothing right now would be…superfluous.” He wasn’t interested in her setting up some romantic scene. He just wanted her now. He’d waited so long, and now… now she was his.

“Sever… oh!”

She almost whimpered as the back of her legs hit the bed, and he reached around with one hand to continue undoing her buttons, using the other to continue teasing her breast with light touches. He knew she was on the verge of forgetting her silly ideas when she began to push back unconsciously into his hand, begging for a firmer touch. Finally, the last fastening in the small of her back was open, and he ran his hand back up the silk-smooth skin that was now exposed to her waist, delighted to not have a bra to contend with. He kissed her more fervently as he used both hands to start slipping the straps of the dress down her arms.

“I’ve wanted you for so long. I need you now… wife,” Severus whispered against her lips as he carried her down gently to the bed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/26235132

Severus shifted uncomfortably. All the drink was making him need to pee, but he wasn’t sure he’d make it without falling over flat on his face. His eyes fell on an empty bottle lying near his feet. Perhaps he could use it to… No, even as pissed as he was, he had more self-respect than that. Carefully he managed to push himself to his feet and stood there swaying unsteadily, his bottle clutched tightly to his chest.

Concentrating hard on what he was doing with his feet, he shuffled slowly towards where one section of the bookcases swung open, revealing the usually hidden way through to the kitchen and the stairs leading upstairs. He only spared the latter a quick glance as he went past. There was no way he was getting up there and back down again in one piece.  

As he passed through into the kitchen he staggered, tripping over his own feet and whacking his shoulder hard against the doorframe. He grunted with the pain, and barely managed to stop himself dropping his precious cargo. Deciding it would be a good idea to leave it somewhere safe for a few moments while he dealt with his problem, he gingerly set the bottle down on the nearest kitchen surface. After a moment’s contemplation he extended one finger and pushed it slowly to the back of the counter, just in case it decided to fall off by itself.

He finally made it to the tiny toilet that had been built onto the back of the house at some point, replacing the original outbuilding. Propping himself up with one arm against the wall he opened his trousers to do his business, steadfast ignoring the haggard image that stared back at him from the mirror. He knew he looked like shit. He’d never been much to look at in any case, and the drink and current lack of personal hygiene did him no favours. What she had ever seen in him to begin with was a complete mystery, although it may be worth further thought, especially if he was to win her back.

He finished, doing up the front of his trousers with care, pleased with himself for not abandoning his dignity and using the empty bottle.

It wasn’t until he turned around to wash his hands that he realised he’d pissed in the sink.

 2 years, 9 months earlier.

Severus had watched her growing confusion over the past few weeks, as she’d tried to understand the change in his behaviour. He’d been laying it on stronger and stronger for the past four weeks now, although he hadn’t yet declared his interest. She was still trying to keep her feelings in check by constantly telling herself she was misunderstanding him, and he could never possibly want her. Yet she couldn’t stop the hope blossoming within her as he began to woo her.

After leaving Lucius’ that evening he’d left himself the next week to mull over the situation and plan out what he was to do, as he had a whole week before they had arranged to meet again. At least his behaviour towards Hermione so far had been relatively solicitous, even if he had held her at arm’s length. Of course, taking the relationship to the next step would need careful thought. It was how to go about making the change from friendship to something more that was the problem. It needed to be done right, to seem like a natural progression from their current standing into. Severus had never set out to attract any woman besides Lily before, and wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

He had actually frittered away far too much time thinking about what he would do with her once he had her. Now that he had her in his sights and was preparing to seduce her he couldn’t seem to stop his thoughts running wild. It had been an effort to stop the fantasising and start to figure out what to do to actually get her into his bed.

He’d devoured the couple of classic romances his mother had left amongst her collection of books, hoping for some inspiration, and had noted that many of the heroines enjoyed being swept away with some ridiculous romantic gesture. He’d used the knowledge to plan out the evening where he would formally declare his interest. As for getting to that point, well he’d just turn up the charm a bit, throw in a rose or something… maybe a book or two. She liked books.

That first meeting had been the hardest. Even with all of his preparation it had been hard to judge what was appropriate. He didn’t want to come across as desperate, or Merlin forbid, needy. Her fantasies involving him made it very clear in what sort of light she viewed him. She liked the dark, domineering side of him. The element of danger, the feeling of power surrounding him was what really made her wet between the legs. She was a strong witch herself, her aura sometimes crackled with it when she was wound up. She needed a wizard more powerful than her. It was why a relationship with the Weasely idiot would never have worked, he would never have been enough for her.

So he’d started his campaign by suggesting a different bar to meet at that evening. The furnishings were a touch more luxurious, the lighting dimmer but not too dark. He’d been even more fastidious in his appearance than usual, making sure to arrive early enough that he could choose a secluded corner before the bar started filling up. She’d been delighted with the gift of a particularly rare book that he’d pretended he’d found by chance when he’d actually spent ages searching for it in order to add to his own collection. It would come back to him when they married he figured, so the loss was well worth it. Over the course of the evening he’d subtly shifted closer to her in the small booth, making sure that his touches lingered a fraction longer than usual, that he leant close enough that his breath stirred the hair on her neck as he whispered in her ear.

He’d rather enjoyed the view down her v neck jumper as her breathing had deepened with his increasing proximity. Her pupils, already wide in the dim light, had dilated even further as her arousal grew. The high point had come near the end of the evening when he’d leaned over to say something, and at the same time she’d turned her head to do the same, and they’d suddenly found themselves face to face, only a few inches away from each other.

She’d bitten down hard on her lip as she’d frozen, eyes locked on his for a few moments, before a loud noise at the next table distracted her and she looked away. In those seconds Severus had managed to slip into her head and had got a fair idea of how the evening had gone. She’d not consciously picked up on his change in behaviour, although she’d been affected by it. He’d found it hard not to smirk as he caught sight of what she planned to do with the new vibrator later that evening. Hermione had found it hard to meet his eyes after that, and the evening had soon after drawn to a natural close. He’d gone home that evening feeling very satisfied with himself.

She’d suggested meeting again the following Saturday, being busy on the Friday, and he’d agreed, but after two days he was so impatient to move on with reeling her in that he’d contrived to meet her as she left the Ministry that Tuesday. He had a contract with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to supply them with a few rarer potions that they sometimes needed, although he usually sent one the lackeys that worked for him. That day, he’d taken them in himself, made sure to bump into her accidentally at the lifts (after the use of several different charms and an hour of waiting). He’d mentioned that he was planning on grabbing a meal out, as he’d not had time to prepare anything, so much had gone wrong that day, oh and would she like to join him?

It had been the first proper meal they’d eaten out together, he didn’t count the times they’d grabbed snacks from the bar menu, and it had been another successful evening. She’d been worried that she wasn’t suitably dressed for dinner, but he’d made her blush furiously by telling her she looked stunning. He had taken her to a restaurant, carefully chosen beforehand, where she wouldn’t feel underdressed or out of place in what she was wearing. He’d turned up the charm another notch, and when he’d walked her home he’d wrapped his cloak around her and tucked her under his arm the moment she’d shivered in the cold December air.

That evening had started a precedent, and at least twice a week since they’d met up, now usually for a meal rather than drinks. They had only gone to restaurants with a relaxed atmosphere so far, since they’d continued to go eat after she’d finished work. Tonight, however, being a Saturday, he’d told her they were going somewhere special, and that she needed to dress up. Tonight was the night that he made his intentions clear. Lucius had informed him that the law was now in the final stages of being drafted, and he knew he needed to get a move on before it was announced.

He’d asked Lucius to help him book a table at the most exclusive restaurant in wizarding London, near the river, and had planned a moonlit stroll afterwards. It was almost disgustingly romantic, but all the books seemed to indicate that women like this sort of thing. Mind you, it had almost been worth it just for his first glimpse of her as she opened her door to him. She’d tamed her rat’s nest, pulling it back to hang down the back of her neck, and the neckline of her black dress was low enough to provide him with a broad expanse of creamy skin that he’d never feasted his eyes on before. The dress was floor length, clinging to her curves perfectly, and in that moment he’d never wanted her so much. None of the women he’d been seeing could compare. She was stunning… and soon to be his.

She’d blushed under his scrutiny, greeting him shyly, before turning to reach for a cloak and purse that were laid over the hall table. Severus had got his second treat of the evening, as he’d caught sight of the back of her gown, or rather the lack of it. It had only taken a second for him to reach out to grab her cloak so he could help her put it on, giving him the chance to ‘accidentally’ brush the back of his hand against her shoulder-blade. Her skin was warm and soft, and he’d wondered what it would be like to be able to touch her freely, to run his hands over parts of her body that he had not yet seen.

She’d trembled at his touch, shifting quickly to face him once again, as if to mask her reaction. “Shall we go?” she’d asked brightly.

In reply he’d reached into a pocket in his own cloak and pulled out a single red rose, perfectly formed and protected with a charm, and proffered it to her. A flash of confusion had crossed her face, and had seemed uncertain as she’d reached out to take it, peering up into his face in an attempt to figure out why she was giving her such a gift. At first she hadn’t appeared to know what to do with it, but eventually she’d pulled out her wand, slicing off most of the stem, and had tucked the flower into her hair.

He’d offered his arm to her, and when she’d taken it, had apparated them a short distance from the restaurant. She’d been surprised when they’d finally arrived, frowning at some unknown thought. She obviously knew the reputation of this place, and how difficult it was to get in to, especially at the weekend, although was too polite to ask how he had managed it.

Dinner had been perfect, the food sublime, and their conversation interesting and intelligent, although once or twice she’d become quiet, clearly contemplating something as she concentrated on the meal in front of her. By the time he’d got her attention and she’d looked back up at him, she’d stopped thinking about what it was that was bothering her, as he’d discerned nothing when he’d slipped into her mind.

She’d been oblivious to his scrutiny as she’d polished off the last of her chocolatey dessert, and he’d sat back and enjoyed the view, enjoying most particularly the way her breasts moved in her low cut dress. He’d been so transfixed by the sight, wondering if she’d used a charm or had just let them hand freely, that as she’d reluctantly put down her spoon and looked across at him, she’d caught him blatantly checking her out. The resulting blush had spread across her chest as well as her cheeks, and to save her embarrassment he’d quickly mentioned his idea of a walk, and she’d agreed just as fast.

Now, they had been walking along the river in silence for some time as he built up the courage to broach the subject that was foremost on his mind. Glancing down at the small figure clinging to his arm, he could see that she was also deep in thought, a small furrow between her eyes as she looked out over the scene with blank eyes. He wished he could slip into her mind just then to see if there was something wrong, but her face was turned slightly away and he couldn’t see into her eyes.

They wandered slowly along the path for a few more minutes before reaching a quiet spot that Severus decided would be a perfect place. As he gently steered them to a halt, he took her hand from his arm and turned so they were facing each other, before taking a deep breath and preparing to speak.

“Severus?” She took the wind out of his sails by speaking first, although she was clearly nervous enough not to be able to look up at him, instead concentrating on where he was still holding her hand.

“Yes…?” He hated how his voice shook slightly.

“I… What is this, Severus? What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“This…” She waved a hand around at their surroundings. “Tonight, dinner… everything. It wasn’t really until this evening that I realised… You’ve been acting strangely the past few weeks.”

“Strangely?” He felt suddenly defensive, and although she was giving him a perfect opening, it wasn’t in his plan and he struggled to know how to reply.

“Yes, going for meals, giving me roses and books. Why are you suddenly doing this? What’s changed?”

He stared at her for a few seconds in silence, lost for words. He’d had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to say to convince her he felt something for her, without actually saying the words, and now it was all going wrong.

Her face fell when he failed to speak, and she stepped backwards, pulling her hand out of his. “I’m sorry, I don’t think… I can’t do this anymore.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Can’t do what?”

“This…” Hermione waved her hand between the two of them. “I don’t…”

She paused again, and he realised that she was on the verge of tears, when she looked up at him with big mournful eyes. Automatically he slipped inside her mind, and immediately realised what had her so wound up. For once there were no clear visuals, just a strong feeling of misery, and the only thing he had to compare it to, was how he felt about Lily. Her gaze fell again, breaking the link.

“I think you know… you must have realised by now… how I… I mean, a friendly drink every week or two I can manage, but all this…” She reached up to touch the rose in her hair. “I wish I could help the way I feel, Severus, but I can’t.”

To his horror a large tear fell from one eye and started to slide down a pale cheek. This was not the way it was supposed to go.

She continued speaking, taking another step back away from him. “I think I need some time… I need to move on. Maybe in a couple of months we can…”

He realised he was about to lose her. He needed to intervene quickly.

“Hermione…”

He stepped forward and rested his hands on her upper arms. She stopped talking immediately, her head bowed. She looked defeated, strangely resigned. He took his future in his hands, and started speaking.

“You’ve got it wrong.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and tried to brush away her tears. “I’m sorry, I’ve made a complete mess of this. I wanted to ask you… I want…”

She finally looked up at him as he paused, and he couldn’t but help thinking of Lily. She wasn’t her, could never replace her, but he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather tie himself to. The girl was clever like Lily, cleverer even, and caring too, although she would never be as beautiful. No one was as beautiful as his Lily. He would made do with her, though. Young, smart and with a body that he couldn’t wait to claim, he would be a fool to let her go, despite the fact he would never love her the way she did him.

It was surely better for him that she felt so strongly. It would be easier to mould her into the wife he wanted, it would surely be simple enough to manipulate her. He’d learnt his lesson with Lily, never be the one to care more. That way only led to heartache. It never pricked his conscience that he would only be causing her the same anguish that he had suffered. As long as he had what he wanted, he didn’t care. He just hoped he wouldn’t need to profess feelings he didn’t have in order to get her.

“I want to ask your permission to be allowed to court you,” he blurted, inwardly cringing at his lack of finesse.

She blinked in confusion. “Court me…”

He may as well just go for it now. “Yes, with the eventual intention of asking you to marry me.”

She seemed stunned, although he wasn’t sure that her normally quick mind had quite caught up with that she had heard. “But… but you…”

He silenced her by leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. He had meant it to be only a quick kiss, but her mouth was as sweet as it looked and he couldn’t help wrapping his arms around her, and encouraging her to open her lips to him with gentle flicks of his tongue. Merlin, if her mouth tasted this good he couldn’t wait to have the rest of her. His intention to wait until after they were married was almost scuppered there and then. He’d not touched a woman since learning of the new law, so it was with some effort that he forgot all thoughts of apparating the two of them straight to his bedroom, and instead pulled back to ascertain his effect on her.

It was a moment before her eyes flickered open, and smugly he saw that she was at least at dazed as he felt. He waited with baited breath as she pulled herself together enough to speak, and when she did, it was clear that she was still struggling to comprehend quite what was happening.

“I don’t understand. I… I thought you didn’t like me… like that.”

He smiled down at her. “You were mistaken. Whatever gave you that impression?”

She chewed her lips for a moment, the little crease between her brows returning as she “All this time – we’ve been… friends, for a couple of years now, but you must have known how I felt. You never said anything, never made me believe for one second that you felt anything more than friendship for me. Why now, Severus?”

Now he felt on surer ground, having assumed she would ask this, and thought about his answer.

“I wanted to give you a chance; some time, to find… happiness, with someone… younger, more worthy of you. But I’ve realised I cannot just stand by and let you walk away without asking just once for a chance to court you. I know I am not handsome, or the most pleasant of men… (There, he had warned her) and I have more than a few years on you. You could have anyone you want, there are surely many out there far better than me.”

He let his head drop in mock sorrow. He was sure there was nothing more likely to work than a suggestion that he thought badly of himself. She was far too compassionate, too sentimental. It made her far too easy to manipulate.

She looked startled for a moment, before her face softened. “Oh Severus…” She lifted both hands and cupped his face. “There is no one else, only you. I don’t care how old you are, and it’s not like I’m under the impression that you’ve got a particularly… friendly personality. And just for the record, I disagree completely with you…” Her hands dropped from his face as she reached up to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I think you’re extremely handsome.”

Thank Merlin he was so good at hiding his true emotions, or he’d be looking ridiculously smug and pleased with himself right now.

“So… you mean…?”

She smiled generously as she slipped her arms around his waist, even as she blushed deeply once again. “I’ve wanted you for so long Severus. Yes, yes/ I don’t know precisely what it entails in the wizarding world, but, yes, you have my permission to… to court me.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/25973142

He was halfway through the bottle now, and it was clear that it would not be enough for blissful oblivion. His head was spinning though, and he was too drunk to even move from the chair, let alone find another bottle. He just seemed to be unable to stop thinking, to stop going over the past few years, viewing his sins in vivid detail.

With a sigh he stopped fighting and let the memories come once more.

 2 years, 10 months earlier (2 years and 6 months after the Battle of Hogwarts)

Severus had agreed to her suggestion of an after-work drink that Friday night, despite having been asked to pop in to see Lucius later in the evening. Not that it was necessarily after work for him, as the owner of a successful potions business he made his own hours. Hermione, however, worked in the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Her reputation for hard work and thorough research, as well as being a ridiculously soft touch when it came to others who came to her for help, had led her to being a general workhorse for anyone who came to her with a good enough story for why they couldn’t do their own job.

She claimed she let them get away with it because she was looking to rise up through the ranks enough to make a difference, but Severus knew that wasn’t how it worked in the Ministry. It was who you knew, not how hard you worked. Yet he let her moan time after time without giving her any real advice. He found it amusing to watch her get riled up at the ineptitude of her co-workers. She was even more stunning when riled up, her cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. He could barely take his eyes off her in such moments.

His reason for maintaining his friendship with her was actually twofold. On one hand, despite his hero status, there were still those who distrusted him, and by regularly meeting with the darling of the wizarding world in public (never privately – he didn’t trust himself enough) was good for his reputation and therefore his business.

The second reason – he wanted her, blushing little virgin that she still was at the age of 20, and yet at the same time he didn’t. She wasn’t the type of girl you took to bed a few times then discarded. She would expect something far more from him; commitment, and that he wasn’t willing to give, not to her or anyone. He was far too selfish and self-serving to be in a relationship. He wasn’t interested in indulging the romantic wishes of a needy companion, but he was more than happy to take advantage of some of the attractive women that threw themselves at him, and why shouldn’t he? He’d spent the last twenty years barely tolerated and close to universally hated or feared, while working tirelessly to save everyone’s arses. Twenty years was a long time.

Of course the rumours were not true – that he’d stayed celibate as a way to honour the woman he loved – but it did mean that there were plenty of women who wanted to be that ‘special one’ who would teach him to love again. That would never happen, his heart was as faithful to Lily as it had been the day she died, and no desperate tart was going to change that. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take advantage of his status as a hero, although he’d always been careful to only bed women who would, for whatever reason, keep their trysts quiet. However, on occasion, he wasn’t above using either obliviation or some other spell on some particularly stunning specimen of the female persuasion.

Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. Whether he was limited to married women and those with something to hide or not, it was still better pickings than he had become used to during his time as a spy. Female Death Eaters were not a particularly attractive bunch – he couldn’t even think about the time that the Carrow bitch had tried to come on to him without wanting to vomit – and the wives of the male Death Eaters were generally not much better. They had been married for their 'pure’ blood and family connections rather than their beauty, the most notable exception being Narcissa – and Bellatrix too, he supposed, before Azkaban and insanity stole her youth and good looks from her. Not that he’d ever thought twice about sleeping with her. He much preferred to keep his balls intact, thank you very much.

Narcissa, on the other hand, had been an excellent fuck, and he’d even made the effort to please her as well as himself in the hope she’d come back for more. Of course she’d stopped once she realised she wasn’t going to get any useful information out of him to help her husband’s schemes, but it had been good while it lasted, and had never affected the friendship between himself and the Malfoy patriarch. All was fair in love and war. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done the same thing himself. Half the time he’d only slept with any of them for information, and rest of the time mainly to piss off their husbands. He’d also accepted that they were also only sleeping with him for the same reasons, but he’d never been on to look a gift horse in the mouth.

That was one of the reasons he seemed to be unable to put Hermione out of mind and out of his life. For some strange reason, she actually seemed to find him utterly irresistible, and it wasn’t for his social status, as she was even more highly regarded than he. But despite the fact he’d like nothing more than to fulfil the dirty fantasies he’d been sneakily spying on in her mind since her 5th year at Hogwarts, he was far too mindful of his status to let it happen. Knowing the way the press still hounded all three members of the 'golden trio’ – he couldn’t even think the name without a sneer – any dalliance he had with the girl would no doubt be in the papers the next morning. She was watched quite carefully for any hint of a relationship since both Potter and his sidekick were engaged. Severus may have been a hero for his part in the second wizarding war, but he had no doubt public opinion would turn against him if he seduced her and then ran.

Besides, she was one of the very few people he could actually tolerate. Lucius was a good friend, and by no means stupid, but he was no intellectual, despite having a library Severus would kill for. Hermione, on the other hand, was a good conversationalist, enjoyed a lively debate, and was well on her way to being as widely read as he was. At Hogwarts it had only been her position in Gryffindor and at the side of Potter that had kept him from treating her like the outstanding student she was, She was the pupil he’d always wished for, and had they lived in a world that had never heard of Voldemort, he would have done his best to take her under his wing, and she may now have been pursuing a very distinguished career in potions rather than wasting her time at the Ministry.

He’d made it very clear, many times what he thought of her job, but she always often seemed to arrange to meet him when she had something particular to moan about, as if she thought she needed an excuse to do so. Severus would have been happy to turn up for any reason, or none at all, as he liked to keep an eye on her and make sure her head wasn’t being turned by some young man. Besides, he would always go home with some new wank fodder for the nights he slept alone, and the meeting was worth that if nothing else.

She had a habit of chewing on her bottom lip, especially when she was listening to him speak. It drove him crazy, watching those plump lips swell, and sometimes he could barely keep track of what he was saying for wondering what they would feel like around his cock. She always won more discussions than she ought because of the distraction those lips caused. And then he would take great pleasure in dipping into her mind to see what new fantasies his touch had invoked.

Occasionally he would be disappointed with some mushy romantic scene, but he noticed that the more he touched her, the more likely she would be imagining the two of them in some compromising situation. She had quite the imagination, and although it was clear that she had read up on the subject, she was obviously still untouched, as he’d seen some things that were practically impossible. She’d frigged herself raw, he knew, over one particular book with moving illustrations while thinking of him. He’d been very grateful for the table between them when he’d seen that and he’d had to excuse himself early that evening.

Her imaginings often came to mind as he was ploughing his latest conquest, and he would imagine her young, supple form beneath his. More than once he’d only just caught himself from moaning her name as he spewed his seed into whatever willing witch he’d snared that evening. Only when he was alone would he allow himself to come with her name on his lips. It was a wonder, what with the girl’s fertile imagination, that he hadn’t just given in and had her already. It was also amazing that he managed to win any arguments at all.

Of course, if he had his wits about him, it wouldn’t take much to create a similar distraction for her. He would always make sure to brush against her occasionally, or touch her hand mid-sentence and enjoy the way she would bite down on her lip even harder even as her eyes went dark with desire. He would make her blush occasionally by obviously checking out her lovely round arse or letting his eyes drop to her décolletage. He would always act the gentleman, offering her his arm, lending her his coat if it was cold out, as well as any number of small things that could be taken as an expression of interest, or even a very slow courtship.

He had no issue with leading her on, even though he had no intention of pursuing her. It was perverse, he knew, and he was an utter bastard for doing it, but he didn’t really care. He liked to know that such a woman – endowed with both brains and beauty - was saving herself for him when she could have her pick of many younger and more handsome wizards than him. Perhaps she believed that because he was older, and clearly a traditionalist considering who his friends were and his part actions, that he wouldn’t want her if she wasn’t a virgin. Times were changing, but the wizarding world was still a lot more conservative than the muggle one. In any case, it was a novel experience, being wanted in such a way, and he would do what he could to keep her interested as long as he could.

He was replying the latest scene from her mind even as he disapperated to Malfoy Manor. He’d seen Hermione back to the flat she’d found as soon as she could afford to move out of Grimmauld Place and away from the sickening public displays of affection from her idiot friends and their respective girlfriends. He usually walked her back, but this evening she’d been slightly tipsy so she’d clung tightly to his arm all the way back. He’d been able to feel her fingers gently stroking the fabric of his sleeve, although, from a look at her expression, he wasn’t sure she was even aware she was doing it.

As he’d bent down to kiss her hand in goodbye, he’d looked up into her eyes for a brief moment and automatically slipped into her mind, viewing her surface thoughts the way he found so easy after so many years of performing Legilimency. He’d caught a glimpse of a fantasy where he took her in his arms and kissed her, pushing her into the house and pressing her up against the door he’d closed behind him before taking her with abandon. Even as he strolled through the overly ornate gardens in the bright moonlight towards the front door, was thinking about the way her long legs had wrapped around his waist, and he’d reached down to position his cock at her entrance and…

“Ah, Severus!”

He scowled as Lucius appeared from out of the darkness behind the end of a hedge and spotted him interrupting his lewd imaginings with a muted greeting. Severus grumbled under his breath, sending clouds of vapour around his face in the cold air, before striding forward to greet his friend.

“What’s the matter? You look as if someone’s stolen your favourite cauldron,” Lucius said as he came closer. He peered as Severus’ face. “I remember now, you were meeting the delectable Miss Granger this evening. I recognise that expression, it’s not all that different than the one you used to sport back when you were pining over that mud… muggle girl…”

“Don’t, Lucius,” he growled.

His friend knew when to move on. “Anyway, isn’t it about time you took that girl to bed and got her out of your system?”

Severus just looked at him levelly. Lucius was more that aware of Severus’ struggle concerning Hermione, as well as his reasons for not seducing her. His friend agreed with him that it would be a stupid move, although it was not just because he still held a lot of his old prejudices, but he found Severus’ dilemma a source of constant amusement.

“Did you have something to speak to me about, or did you invite me here just to keep me out in the cold?

Lucius smirked. "Ah, yes,” he drawled, lifting his cane and examining the end nonchalantly. “I have had some news from… friends… in the Ministry.

"What you and your lackeys discuss is unlikely to be of any consequence to me, unless it will affect my business.”

“Oh, but it will concern you… not your business, but you personally, before too long, as well as a large part of the wizarding population.”

“Go on…” he growled.

Lucius turned, using his cane to gesture towards the house. “Shall we go in? I think a strong drink may be in order.

The two men set off towards the house. "This had better be important, Lucius,” Severus growled. He could have been at home having a good wank.

It’s actually the reason I’ve been taking an evening 'stroll’. I spoke to Narcissa and Draco about it at dinner, and neither are particularly happy.“

"You mean Narcissa is fuming, and you’ve escaped to the garden to hide,” he sneered.

Lucius shrugged slightly. “She’ll calm down soon enough, and most likely be up half the night planning. I thought it best to waylay you out here so we could sneak into my study quietly.

Severus grimaced. He had always been of the opinion that no news was good news, and if whatever Lucius had to say affected not only him, but turned Narcissa, a woman who had played host to a raving lunatic for a year, into a fury, then it must be bad indeed.

A short while later he was standing in front of the fireplace in Lucius’ comfortable study, fighting his growing concern and thoughts of her. Silence had reigned for a few minutes, Lucius sipping his drink quietly in his chair while Severus tried to process all he’d just learned.

"What do you mean by appropriate age?” he said eventually. “Surely I’m too old to be…”

“It will affect all unmarried witches and wizards between the ages of twenty and fifty-five, unless a witch can prove that she is beyond her childbearing years.”

“And is there no similar get out clause for those wizards who are unable to… procreate?” There was at least one potion he could think of that would do the trick.

“No, they are well aware there are ways to fake results, and the Ministry is extremely worried. The birth rate has dropped rapidly, although the percentage of squibs has risen. So many lives were lost, on both sides of the war. So many pureblood families were all but destroyed, and the half-bloods or lesser tend to not marry as young, so the number of marriages has fallen to almost as low as any time on record. Even couples who are already married and have had children will be expected to try for more, if they are of the right age.”

“So that’s what has Narcissa riled up.”

“No, Narcissa would love to have another child, but it has always been usual for the Malfoy line to produce only one heir, so we do not expect anything to come of it.”

“Then what…?”

“The Ministry has decided, as a way to encourage integration and stop another war – over blood purity, at least – that no one can marry someone with the same blood status. You, as a half-blood, will need to find a m… muggle-born, or a pureblood, whereas Draco…”

“…will have to find a muggle-born or half-blood. No wonder Narcissa is angry, neither of your families has had a drop of muggle blood enter it in a couple of centuries at least.” He looked at his friend, who seemed fairly unconcerned. “I must say, you seem to be taking it better than I expected. What will Draco do now? I though he was well on his way towards an engagement with the Greengrass girl.”

“Oh, that’s still not quite the reason Narcissa is wound up,” Lucius smirked. “Since the new law, in particular the mixing of those with differing blood status, affects those who are not already married. Therefore Draco has already gone to speak to Astoria this evening, and we are sure she will agree to an extremely short engagement rather than miss out on marrying a Malfoy. Of course, Narcissa is panicking over the fact that she will have less than two months to arrange their wedding.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I can imagine.”

“And what of you, my friend. If you like, I know of a few women of good breeding who would be more than happy to vie for your hand, as a half-blood with your social status and wealth. Although you may have to spend some of it on buying a house somewhat nicer than that muggle hole you still live in.” He took another sip of his whisky before continuing. “What on earth is stopping you from getting rid of that place anyway. You should be able to afford something quite decent by now.”

Severus grimaced. As good a friend as Lucius was, he still hadn’t grasped the fact that Severus really cared nothing at all for blood status, and certainly nothing at all for a pureblood wife who would expect far more from him, in both money and behaviour, than he was willing to give. In fact, there had only been one woman on his mind since the first moment Lucius had explained what was coming, although he was still not convinced there wouldn’t be some way to get out of the whole mess. He was happy with his life the way it was, and he didn’t need a wife to get in his way.

Yet the thought of her, of having her for his own, to take to his bed, was quite appealing. If he had to marry someone, it would be none other but her, the woman he’d denied himself for so long. All of his objections to having her faded in the light of the information Lucius had given him. She’d be far easier to manipulate than an older woman, experienced not only in the bedroom but also brought up to scheme and use her wiles to get her own way, as the women from the pureblood families all were. But he would have to be quick to act. It would be foolish of him to wait until the law came out to pursue her. He didn’t want her to think that he was only doing so because of it. She was wilful, and proud enough to refuse him despite her infatuation with him if she believed him to be less than sincere. He needed to think, to plan his next step.

“I must go, Lucius,” he replied, ignoring what his friend had asked. “I have things to arrange.” He threw back the rest of his drink and set the glass down on the mantelpiece.

Lucius stood, surprise at Severus’ sudden departure evident on his face. “But what of your wife-to-be? Do you want me to arrange a few meetings so you can take your pick?”

“That will not be necessary. I have already made my choice.”

“But…? Already? Who have… wait, Severus! Please tell me you don’t mean the Granger girl?”

He followed Severus out of the room as he made his way to the front door. Severus’ lack of response only confirmed his suspicions.

“You can’t be serious! She’s no good for anything more than a quick tumble. You need a woman of good breeding who’ll bring you a good dowry and a place among the pureblood families.”

He earned nothing more than a glare as Severus took his cloak from the waiting house elf and swung it round his shoulders.

“You have time before the law is introduced. Bed the girl and get her out of your head. In the meantime I’ll draw up a list of suitable brides. Perhaps I can arrange for you to meet them all at Draco’s wedding, that way you can compare and choose the one you like best.”

“If that is an invitation to your son’s wedding, then I will be honoured to accept. But for the rest, I have no interest in your pureblood bitches, so you may save yourself the trouble.” He turned to leave.

“Don’t be foolish Severus. Why have a mule when you can have a thoroughbred mare? You won’t think twice about her once you’ve got another witch warming your bed. The girl will be looking for her own husband soon enough and she’ll forget about you just as quickly.”

It was the wrong thing to say. It only made him more determined.

Listening to the DH soundtrack and Lily’s theme comes on. I suddenly realise how different my thinking is from a few years ago when I though Snape’s love for Lily was the saddest things ever (still is tbh) and how awful it was he never got to be with the person he loved so much.

Now I’m like, “bitch, you didn’t deserve him!” Hermione’s the girl for him! At least she knows how to forgive and is a better person all round!

Whoops! For everyone looking forward to a new chapter yesterday, I’m still writing it. 4000 words and counting. It’ll be up soon, I promise.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/25540464

For those who are reading my fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/25540464 be ready for the next chapter either tonight or tomorrow! First time posting in a while, as I’ve been so busy doing my teacher training.

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Ministers Mate
by@drwhoisginnyholmes
Rating:E
Pairing(s):Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Twenty-five years after the war the loneliness of choosing a career over family is getting to Hermione. Hoping nostalgia will help ease it, the whole group gets together in Hogsmeade for a night of good food and drinks. However, an innocuous encounter with Professor Snape has her pulse racing and her libido aching to see what’s under those robes. With a push from her friends, she finally lets go of her hesitance and pursues her own desires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37051537

Today we’re excited to reveal some deviously diverse stories that embody the purpose of this fest - kinky, body-positive goodness within the fandom we love!

We’ll highlight a story each day on our timeline and Tumblr starting tomorrow. Please consider dropping a comment, kudos, or both as you work your way through the collection!

CUPID MASQUERADE-@aleysiasnape

Hermione finds love at Malfoy Valentine Ball.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37036210

DEFLOWERING A MALFOY - SMALLSHERBERT

What happens when you mix a virgin Draco Malfoy and one horny Hermione Granger and a dash of a kinky Theodore Nott, the world’s most inappropriate dormmate?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36949282

DESPITE IT ALL - LADYBLACK3

The pity in people’s eyes and the impact of seeing a war heroine with actual physical damage were still very visible every time she walked through the halls of the Ministry. They saw it as weakness, but that was their perspective, not her truth. She walked with her head held high because she had nothing to be ashamed of. Her name was Hermione Granger. She was a war heroine, Order of Merlin First Class, muggleborn witch, but most of all, she was a wife, she hoped a good friend, and despite the pain being a part of her daily existence, she was still herself. And when she wavered, he was there to remind her of who she was. A tale of living with chronic pain and finding a way to love yourself despite the bad days.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36098002

MINISTERS MATE -@drwhoisginnyholmes

Twenty-five years after the war the loneliness of choosing a career over family is getting to Hermione. Hoping nostalgia will help ease it, the whole group gets together in Hogsmeade for a night of good food and drinks. However, an innocuous encounter with Professor Snape has her pulse racing and her libido aching to see what’s under those robes. With a push from her friends, she finally lets go of her hesitance and pursues her own desires.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37051537

THE SIZE OF HIS HEART-@articcat621

The size of his heart was the only thing that mattered to her.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37062310

Thank you to everyone who prompted, claimed, and submitted! For those who are still working on your pieces, drop us a line, and we’ll approve your story into the collection!

Check out all the stories here:
https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ADeviousDiverseNewYear2021/

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