.

Snape's Response

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Hermione had wooed him. Mauling his dinner into something that resembled upchuck instead of the delicious pot pie it originally was, Severus blocked out the inane chatter of the Head Table and debated how he was going to figure out how to woo her back. Asking advice seemed like an obvious course of action. The only issue was that he didn't know who to go to.

Glancing to his left, where Albus was merrily chatting away to Minerva, his elbow in a bowl of gravy, Severus shook his head. There was no way he was talking to the doddering old fool about his marriage. If the Ministry had mastered in meddling, Albus had been the one to apprentice them. And giving him even a hint that his and Hermione's marriage was not yet real… well that was just asking to be locked in broom closets or dosed with the Weasley twins love products. No thank you.

Minerva was an option. After the war their relationship had… thawed considerably. And normally Severus wasn't adverse to asking the older witch for advice about anything. But something told him that if he sought out romantic advice from Minerva he would have to hear about Moody's sex prowess. Nothing in this world, not even Hermione naked and pliant beneath him, would be worth learning just how accomplished the ex-auror was in the sack. Just thinking about the conversation made Severus want to scrub his brain out with steel wool.

Books were his next option. Chasing a carrot around the plate with his fork, Severus obliterated the little round and stirred it in with the rest of the slop until it was orange no more. Madam Pince took old fashioned to a whole new level. Sure, she kept hundreds of dark and dangerous tomes locked just behind a gate that screamed, "sneak past me" to every student who had ever walked these halls, but Severus knew for a fact that she would consider even one book advising the horny little miscreants how to properly engage in their awkward, semi-sexual encounters too scandalous for her library. So unless he raided the private libraries of Albus or Minerva–which was, again, problematic–he was stuck without reading materials until the next Hogsmeade weekend at least.

"Aren't you hungry, Severus?" Albus asked, nudging him with a gravy-ified elbow.

Severus scowled and pushed his plate away. "No."

From his right, Hooch stuck her hawkish nose into the conversation. "Ooh, trouble in paradise?"

He turned his glare on her. Why couldn't Filius be his dinner companion instead of Hooch? Filius was much quieter. Severus huffed. There was only one reason he could think of for Albus to put Hooch next to him for every meal of the term. He was being punished for something.

"If by trouble you mean the idiot third years blowing one another up," Severus drawled. "And by paradise you mean my classroom, then absolutely."

Albus nudged him again, smearing gravy goop over his robes. "Don't be silly, Rolanda. Severus and Hermione are getting on like two erumpents during mating season."

Brow arching at the uncomfortable analogy, Severus made a sound in the back of his throat that he hoped sounded like assent. Minerva, fortunately, rescued him from further scrutiny of his sex life.

"Albus," she scolded. "Don't embarrass him. You know how private our Severus is."

Yes, Severus thought sarcastically, because I'm just a little boy hiding his first crush from mummy and daddy. He gripped his fork tighter as Hooch ruffled his hair. His eye twitched.

"It probably didn't hurt that the ministry provided that book list, though? Huh, Sevvy?" Hooch teased.

Now he was being nudged by elbows on both sides. But Severus was too busy ruminating on Hooch's revelation to notice how much gravy was being spread upon his sleeve. Book list? What book list?

Albus puffed up like a peacock. Or, perhaps, like a firebird. Severus knew how Fawkes liked to preen. "I suggested that list, you know. The Ministry was just going to send out matches and let them go at it. But I told them they had to at least provide books for the couples to read. You can't just throw a thousand wizards at strange witches and expect happy marriages to happen."

"Agreed," Filius piped up from Minerva's side.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. This marriage law had turned the entire Head Table into a bunch of gossiping hens. Squawking ones. But there was a side benefit to their inability to keep their noses out of his business. He now knew the Ministry had suggested books for them to read. While he had chucked the entire match profile packet into the fire as soon as he'd read Hermione's name–at the time only thinking of her obnoxious tendencies that, fortunately, had not stuck around–he had no doubt that Hermione had either kept her match packet or bought and read all the books suggested. Perhaps he wouldn't have to be seen buying marriage books in public after all.

"Ach," Minerva's brogue broke through his introspection. "The wee bookworms probably learned all the ins-and-outs of marriage and the bedroom in the first week. Every time I bring up those books, Alastor suggests… well, another activity."

Glancing to his right, Severus was pleased to see that that shut Hooch up. Clearly he wasn't the only one with an aversion to thinking about Alastor in the buff. Pushing himself away from the table, Severus murmured his excuses before the conversation could get more graphic. Or worse, return its focus to his and Hermione's bedroom life.

On his way out of the hall, Severus sought Mister Chapman out of the unruly heads at the Gryffindor table. Staring at him, he willed the third-year to look at him. It was an old trick that he'd used when Potter was a student. Now he'd honed it to perfection with Mister Chapman and his idiot friends. When the boy looked up, Severus gave him a pointed glare and tapped his wrist. A not-so-subtle reminder about their impending detention.

The boy blanched and Severus smirked privately, swooping out of the Great Hall with all the drama his robes could afford him. After the war he had briefly considered leaving teaching. But most adults simply didn't exude fear the same way children did. And really, what good was living if he couldn't give someone a good scare at least once a day?

Hermione was fast asleep on the couch by the time the third years had scrubbed every inch of floor with their toothbrushes. Surprised to find her in the living room this late, Severus covered her with the blanket, removed the book from her hands and carefully marked her place with a spare bit of parchment. She had bookmarks. He'd seen them on her desk and on the nightstand and even down in the lab. Once, he'd found a bookmark in the refrigerator–a lenticular depiction of a kitten in a teacup that changed to the kitten jumping out at you if you tilted it just the right way. However, despite the prolific collection of bookmarks his wife seemed to have, he'd never once seen one in a book. She tended to use whatever material was close and convenient to mark her place, much like he did, and that resulted in tissues and bits of boxes and small torn off corners of parchment stacked on almost every surface in their quarters. Always ready to save their place in a book.

Tilting the book on it's side, Severus' examined the spine, wondering if he might luck out and find one of the Ministry's suggested marriage books. Mating Rituals of the African Erumpent. Nope. He was looking for books leaning more towards the human persuasion. Laying the book on the coffee table, he made sure Hermione really was asleep before casting a muffliato over her. Just to be doubly sure she wouldn't hear him.

"Accio marriage books," he said.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. "Accio relationship books."

Again, nothing.

Scowling, Severus glanced down at Hermione and narrowed his eyes. If he was his wife and didn't want his husband to find out he was reading books to improve their marriage, what would he have done? Gah, it hurt to even think that sentence. If he had been Hermione, he would have read the books at a library. There was no risk of being found out if he'd–no, she'd–done it that way. Rubbing the spot between his eyes that was thrumming with the start of a headache again, Severus sighed and sank into his armchair.

"Accio Hermione's match packet," he said.

A bundle of parchments flew out of her desk and Severus snatched them out of the air. Magically stoking the fire a bit for better light, he scanned the pages. None of them had a reading list on it and Severus almost thought Albus and Minerva and Hooch had been pulling his leg. But Filius had joined in. And Severus didn't think Filius was the type to prank him about his marriage. Actually, given how attached all the staff were to Hermione, he doubted any of them would willingly jeopardize her happiness by teasing the Git of the Dungeons about his wife. He was shocked they thought his marriage was going along swimmingly, in fact. He'd half expected to be under siege from warnings and invasive glares. But surprisingly, the staff had accepted their marriage better than he and Hermione had.

Banishing the bundle back to Hermione's desk, Severus leaned back in his seat and reached for the tumbler of whiskey that seemed to be perpetually available for him. He sipped it and realized that he'd gotten so caught up in trying to find books or advice on wooing Hermione he'd missed the most obvious solution to his problem.

Hermione had been trying to woo him for months. Surely she had tried things on him that she herself would have found romantic? Smiling genuinely for the first time since she'd cornered him in the kitchen and complimented him on his hair–and wolfsbane potion–Severus looked at his sleeping wife. He'd been a spy for half his life. Examining motives and behaviors was as ingrained in him as the recipe for a basic pepper up potion. All he'd need was a few hours and a pensieve and he could craft the perfect plan to woo Hermione. Using all her own moves against her.

He leaned forward and gently patted her ankle. "You're not even going to know what hit you."

Though it only took Severus a couple days to find time for some pensieve diving, it took him another two weeks to formulate his plan and set it into action. He started small. Assigning his classes a project that would take them to the library for the day, Severus made sure he was in their quarters before Hermione on Friday. He smirked to himself as the floo flared to life and Hermione stepped out of it. Hermione worked half days on Friday

"Severus!" His name came out as a surprised gasp and she clutched a hand to her heart. "What are you doing home so early?"

He glanced over his grading at her and cast a spell to siphon the ash and soot from her clothes. "Remind me to have Tilly clean the floo."

Hermione nodded and scratched the back of her head, staring at him as though he'd turned into a giant bat or had a boogy hanging out his nose. Fighting the urge to make sure the latter wasn't true, Severus arched an eyebrow at her.

"Did you cancel classes for the day?" she asked, toeing off her shoes and sending them to the wardrobe with a spell.

As she slipped out of her cloak–a lovely dark purple thing that reminded him of dragonfly wings with its delicate but not obtrusive pattern–Severus set his grading aside and shook his head. "They're in the library working on projects. I've got a charm on the office if anyone needs me."

"Oh," she said, and he smiled at the familiar word. "That's nice that you get a little time out of the classroom."

Standing and taking her coat from her, he hummed his agreement. "Don't let me interrupt your afternoon. I was just going to take care of some grading and then take a shower before dinner."

"Okay," she said, drawing out the word as though it was a question.

As he swept out of the room to hang her cloak up for her, Severus heard Hermione muttering to herself and grinned. He had to shake himself out of it and school his features back into his customary scowl before peeking back into the room. Hermione was still standing where he'd left her, head tilted to the side and a line creasing her forehead as she stared at his empty seat.

"I left some toffees on the coffee table for you," he drawled.

Hermione practically jumped out of her skin at his voice. Wide-eyed, she stared at him and then looked down at the silver-wrapped box sitting in the middle of their coffee table.

"Toffees?" she asked.

"Toffees," he affirmed. "You said you liked to eat them when you were reading."

"I–yes," she agreed, her brow furrowing further. "But… you got me some?"

"Yes," he said. "Is that alright?"

"Yes."

He smiled at her and she smiled back, just a small smile that hid at the corner of her mouth. "I promise I didn't place a hex on the box."

She chuckled and swept the silver-wrapped package off the table, running her fingers over the crimson ribbon with a sort of reverence that made his stomach roll over. She had touched him the same way when she'd given him a massage. Would she do so when they consummated their marriage as well?

"On second thought, I think I'll take my shower now."

He turned to go and Hermione stopped him with his name. "Severus?"

Looking over his shoulder at her, he arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"

She blinked at him, practically glowing with joy as she pulled the bow loose on her present and lifted the top off. "Thank you," she said, meeting his gaze only after she'd selected a wrapped toffee from the box. "For the toffees."

"You're welcome," he replied.

"And," she said before he could escape to the shower. "And for remembering."

He smirked and inclined his head. "How could I forget?"

At her sharp intake of breath, Severus took his leave. He made it to the bedroom before chuckling darkly and pulling off his cravat. If he had known a box of toffees would make her look at him like that, he would have bought stock in the damned candies. Shedding the rest of his clothes and banishing them to the hamper, he strode naked into the bathroom perhaps a little too proud of himself. Step one in Project Woo Wifey had gone off without a hitch.

Three nights later, Severus followed Hermione to bed at a time he considered to be far too early. But he wasn't going to complain. Nope, not tonight. As they each curled up on their own side of the bed–he had been worried Hermione would put her blankets back on the bed after she ran from him but she'd stuck to her guns about not giving the elves more to do and they now shared a comforter–Severus waited until she muttered nox to roll onto his side and face her.

"Hermione?" he asked in a low voice.

"Hmmm?" she replied.

"Did you have a nice day?"

"A nice day?" she parrotted.

He nodded, then realized that in the darkness of the room she probably couldn't see him. At least, not until their eyes adjusted. So he grunted his affirmation.

"Um, I guess so," she said hesitantly.

The bed shifted beneath him, the blankets pulling across his body, and suddenly he could feel her breath, warm and minty from her nighttime tooth care regime, across his face. He smiled and reached blindly for her curls, finding one and tucking it behind what he thought was her ear.

"Did Stevens give you shit again?" he growled. She'd occasionally complained about a coworker who did nothing but belittle her and then take credit for her work when the boss praised it. While Severus didn't really know what it was Hermione did at the Department of Mysteries, he did know that Stevens was a little shit who deserved to be run over by a dozen hippogryphs and sold to the goblins.

There was potential that his opinion of Stevens was biased.

Hermione shrugged, her movement visible now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She was wearing a very modest silk pajama set that Severus had struggled to keep his hands off of when she'd stepped out of the bathroom in it. Even though it covered almost every inch of skin on her, the texture and the way it clung to her curves was enough to drive a man wild. Even now, in the darkness of the room, he could see it shining just ever so slightly with whatever light managed to penetrate their dungeon quarters.

"He's just jealous, I think," she said. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," Severus replied.

She shrugged again. "No. I've… I've been thinking about leaving the DOM."

Arching an eyebrow, Severus pursed his lips. "Not because of Stevens?"

"No, yes. N-no."

"Which is it, Madame Snape, yes or no?"

"No," Hermione clarified. "He's part of it but I'm just not feeling… when they hired me it was all mysterious and promised great opportunities to study new magicks and all sorts of things. But really all I do is shuffle paperwork around and restructure outdated policies."

Growling his understanding, Severus took a chance and trailed a hand over her shoulder. Hermione's breath caught in her throat but she didn't pull away so he let his hand rest there, unconsciously rubbing his thumb against the material of her shirt. He'd been right, it was very, very silky.

"You need a challenge," he said. "Do you know what you'd like to do instead?"

"Mmmm," she said. "I've always wanted to look into library arts."

That was as surprising as a Weasley reproducing. Severus smirked and brushed another curl away from Hermione's shoulder before withdrawing his hand from her. Fluffing his pillow, he rolled onto his back and decided to let Hermione in on one of Hogwarts' not-so-well-kept secrets.

"Madam Pince has been looking for a replacement for years."

"Don't tease me, Severus," Hermione admonished.

He hunted down one of her hands beneath the blankets and threaded his fingers through hers. Rubbing his thumb across her palm, he said, "I would never tease you about something as serious as library arts, Hermione. Put in your notice at the DOM tomorrow. I'll talk to Madam Pince about setting up an official apprenticeship."

"Shouldn't I wait to put in my notice?"

He rolled his head to the side and caught the glint of her eyes in the darkness. "Do you want to stay at the DOM?"

"No."

He nodded. "Then don't. It's not like we have an estate to keep up. It's just you and me. We will be fine until you find something you want to do. But if Irma doesn't take you on, I'll go over her head. Albus is getting antsy now that he's not orchestrating the downfall of a Dark Lord. He needs somebody's business to twinkle at."

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course," he said.

"Why?"

"Why?" He repeated. "Because you're my wife."

"Oh," she breathed.

He smiled and released her hand. "Goodnight, Hermione."

The bed shifted and the blanket went through a round of tug-of-war before they were both settled in and comfortable for the night. As Severus grinned into the darkness, Hermione reached out to touch his back.

"Goodnight, Severus."

On Tuesday, Severus made sure all his detentions were scheduled with Filch or Hagrid. He and Hermione had been married for about six months now and in all that time they'd never shared a meal together. Severus always went to the Great Hall for meals and Hermione fed herself either at the Ministry or by cooking at home. Honestly, he wasn't sure what she ate. Perhaps it had been a bit negligent of him to assume Hermione was feeding herself, but it wasn't as though she'd expired on him. So she had to be getting sustenance somewhere.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Severus returned to the plan at hand. Project Woo Wifey, step three. For tonight, Severus had dinner planned.

He stopped by the library to pick up Madam Pince's apprenticeship offer for Hermione–the elderly witch had been so excited at the prospect of having Hermione back in her library, Severus was sure the papers had been drawn up before he'd even left that morning–before sweeping through the halls and mentally preparing a list of ingredients in his mind. He hung his robe on the peg just inside the door and toed off his shoes before banishing the apprenticeship offer to Hermione's desk and getting to work.

Starting in the bathroom, Severus drew a bath and placed a temperature charm on it to make sure it didn't get cold before Hermione got home. He added a couple of her favorite oils to the water and made sure their shampoo and her soap were within arms reach of the tub, along with a fresh wash cloth. A flick of his wand set the rest of the bathroom to order and he left the door cracked on his way out.

In the bedroom he set a pair of modest pajamas out for his wife–a pale blue this time–and slipped off his frock coat and cravat. Rolling up his sleeves, he made sure nothing was out of place in that room before wandering down the hall. Here and there he'd cast a cleaning charm but for the most part their home was spotless. Neither he nor Hermione were neat freaks by any stretch of the imagination, but they both appreciated a certain level of order that kept their quarters in check. Plus, Severus was pretty sure the house elves liked to see how much they could clean without tipping Hermione off to their presence.

He stoked the fire in the living room, making sure he charmed the teapot to keep its temperature and set out her favorite cat mug with cream and sugar at the ready. Folding the blanket over the back of the couch, he accio'd Hermione's current reading pleasure, Bulgarian Politics of the 1720s, and sat it on the table by her toffees. He had been slowly restocking the box as she consumed them and thought he was being sneaky enough that she hadn't noticed yet. She would eventually. There was no way he could convince her the box provided endless toffees. But for now he was enjoying the sneakiness of it all.

In the kitchen, Severus tied back his hair, set the table with the fancy plates he'd borrowed from the elves and some candles, and summoned his ingredients and cooking utensils. Setting up the counter the exact same way he liked to arrange his potions station, Severus took a deep breath and calmed his mind. Cooking was something he'd learned out of sheer necessity as a child and, while he didn't enjoy it the way he enjoyed brewing potions, he was adept enough not to burn their meal to death.

And, just to be on the safe side, he'd chosen to make rice and Chicken Tikka Masala. It was hard to screw up a dish he'd been making on his own since age six. And this time he didn't have to hunt down and kill one of the neighborhood chickens in order to cook it.

He was just putting the rice on the stove when Hermione knocked on the doorframe behind him. Setting the pot to boil, he turned around and smiled at her. She looked frazzled but content.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It will be dinner in about," Severus glanced at the chicken and nodded. "Forty minutes."

She entered the kitchen, peering around him at the simmering sauce and boiling rice. Sniffing appreciatively, she raised her eyebrows and stepped back.

"Chicken Masala? Did you know that was my favorite?"

"Lucky guess," he admitted. They'd never dined together, he had just hoped she ate chicken and didn't mind a little spice. "How did it go today?"

Hermione blew a curl out of her face and scowled. "Horrible. My boss didn't appreciate my resignation and when Stevens suggested I not bother coming back, he agreed."

"Do I need to go pack your office for you?" Severus secretly hoped he would. If he figured out which wizard was Stevens, he'd be sure to leave a parting hex on Hermione's behalf.

She shook her head and withdrew a toy-sized box from her pocket. "Already done."

A missed opportunity. Oh well. Severus glanced at the rice and lowered the heat before he took the box from her and slipped his free hand into the collar of her robe. Shrugging out of her robe, Hermione let him take it from her and closed her eyes.

"Please tell me I have an apprenticeship to look forward to?"

He nodded. "The papers are on your desk for you to look over later."

"But–"

He cut her off before she could expound upon all the reasons she needed to read them right now. "I drew you a bath. Go, have a nice soak and wash your hair. By the time you're all pruny, dinner will be ready. Once your relaxed and fed, you can review Pince's terms."

Gaping at him, Hermione tilted her head to one side and squinted her eyes as though he was a particularly difficult runic puzzle she was trying to solve. Severus brushed past her to hang up her cloak and resized her box of work supplies. It was suspiciously light. Peeking inside, he noticed there were only a handful of items in there. A picture of her old cat, Crookshanks, a set of very nice quills that he was pretty sure Albus had gotten them as a wedding present, and a picture of them on their wedding day. Picture Severus was scowling at the photographer–Minerva, if he remembered correctly–and Hermione was pale, even against her white sundress, but was attempting a smile. Severus brushed a finger over the photograph, an odd warmth in his heart at the idea that she'd thought it important enough to keep on her desk at work.

"Severus?"

Jerking his head up, Severus found Hermione standing directly in front of him. He set the box on the ground beneath their cloaks and met her scrutiny with a blank expression.

"Don't you have a bath to get to?"

Hermione shook her head. "Why are you doing this?"

"This?" he repeated.

She pursed her lips but he thought he saw a smile trying to escape. "Dinner, the bath, the apprenticeship."

He grinned, flashing his teeth in a manner that one might call predatory, and stalked slowly towards Hermione. With his every forward step, she backed up two.

"I thought it would be nice if we had dinner together," he drawled. "And, after our conversation last night, I figured you'd like to have a nice relaxing evening where you didn't have to think about that jackass Stevens and your boss, Mister I-Can't-Think-For-Myself."

This time she did smile and Severus felt flush with victory that she appreciated his joke. Even if he hadn't quite meant it as one. When her back hit the wall, however, her smile faded and she stared, wide-eyed, up at him as he stopped with only inches left between them.

"Is that alright?" he asked, his voice gaining that husky quality that he realized was entirely due to his attraction to his wife.

"Yes. But I don't really need–Eeee!" Her words turned to a squeal as he hoisted her over his shoulder and strode towards their bedroom. She beat her hands against his back and demanded to be let down, but Severus ignored her.

"You may not need it, but I drew you a bath and you should enjoy it," he said, slamming into the bedroom and kicking the door closed behind him. He didn't want to give her an escape route.

Setting Hermione down on her feet, he dropped his chin and stared at her over his glasses. "Do I need to strip you and carry you into the bath?"

She squeaked and paled, and then a lovely blush chased its way across her cheeks. "I–I think I can handle it."

Reaching out, Severus teased the button at the top of her blouse open, smirking when she whimpered at the intimate gesture. "If you're sure," he drawled.

Hermione licked her lips and leaned into his touch even as her words said the opposite. "I'm sure."

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, giving her a little push to propel her towards the cracked bathroom door. "Then go, before the temperature charm wears off. I laid out your pajamas for you and will let you know when dinner's almost ready."

Hermione stumbled into the bathroom, staring over her shoulder at him in shock. Severus didn't leave until she shut the door and he heard the gentle click of the lock. Chuckling to himself, he headed back to the kitchen to grill up the chicken and finish the sauce. He'd probably need to place stasis charms on the food to give her enough time to have a nice, long bath, but he figured that would give him enough time to tame his raging libido and put away her stuff from the office. He wondered if she'd be okay with hanging their wedding photo above the fireplace.

When Hermione emerged from her bath an hour later, Severus had slipped into a comfortable pair of lounge pants and had drawn a dressing gown around his bare chest. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable being the only one in their pajamas at the dinner table. She slipped into the chair across from him, her hair pulled over one shoulder and dripping a lovely dark trail down her blue satin pajama top. Fighting not to stare at her beaded nipples, Severus removed the stasis charms from their food and gestured for her to eat.

"I hope you weren't joking about liking Chicken Masala," he said.

She shook her head, too busy tasting her first forkful of rice and chicken to answer him. He waited for her hum of approval before digging into his own meal. For a time they both ate and enjoyed companionable silence. Severus reveled in that. It was rare, he'd discovered, for people to be comfortable with silence. Most people tried to fill the void with all manner of silly chatter. But between himself and Hermione, silence almost never felt uncomfortable. It was a blessing, he believed, that would keep them from killing one another over the long haul.

As he took his first sip of elf-made wine to clear his throat, he appreciated the way Hermione ate heartily. She wasn't messy about it, like Hagrid and some students tended to be, but neither did she approach her meal like a bird, pecking at it as though fearful that taking too big a bite would immediately translate to pounds on her thighs. She simply enjoyed the food. And he found that incredibly charming.

"Once you're apprenticeship is approved, we'll get to have more meals together," Severus said.

"Hmmm?" Hermione hummed around a mouthful of food. She finished chewing, swallowed and had a drink of her own wine before clarifying. "In the Great Hall?"

"It's traditional for apprentices to sit beside their masters but I've been forced to listen to Hooch go on about flying and quidditch for almost half the year and I think I can convince Albus that it's only right if I sit by my wife."

Hermione blushed at his words and quickly stuffed a piece of chicken in her mouth as though she wished to avoid blurting out whatever was going on in her mind. Leaning back in his seat, Severus stared at her through half-lidded eyes, trying not to scare her off as he sipped his wine and enjoyed the simple pleasure of dining across from someone.

"Then again," he drawled. "Perhaps we should have intimate dinners like this more often. I could get used to sitting across from you in the candlelight."

"Oh?" Hermione whispered.

Gods, he loved how she said that word. It carried so many different meanings and had so many lovely inflections. He hoped that soon, very soon, he would get to hear it cascading off her tongue or groaned into his ear in pleasure.

"You're beautiful," he said, watching her carefully to make sure he didn't spook her. "And brilliant. You were wasted in the DOM."

Severus didn't know Hermione could turn so red. And he hadn't had any idea that her blush went that far down. With the top button of her nightshirt undone, he could see her blush all the way from her hairline to her collar bones. He wondered just how far down it might go.

"You don't think," Hermione took a sip of her wine to wet her palate. She licked a drop of the liquid off the rim and averted her gaze from his. "You don't think that I'll be wasted as a librarian?"

"Gods no." He leaned forward and captured her hand in his. "You love books. You love to learn. And being a librarian is those things. But you're also a helper. You'll get to share your knowledge with children who actually need it. Your knowledge of obscure texts like The Mating Rituals of the African Erumpent will finally be put to use when some third year comes to you the day before a six foot scroll is due for their Care of Magical Creatures class. And working in a magical library isn't just shelving books and directing traffic. Your magic is needed to keep everything in balance. Without a librarian, the entire collection could destroy itself."

Hermione's eyes were wide and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "What if I do it wrong? What if I destroy the whole library because my magic isn't strong enough?"

Sensing that it wouldn't be good to laugh in her face at the absurdity of that statement, Severus bit his tongue and counted to fourteen. He'd known his wife hadn't been appreciated for her brilliance by her friends or coworkers, but he hadn't realized how much that had translated into self doubt. Stroking his thumb across her knuckles, he promised himself that he would never be in the category of people who didn't appreciate Hermione for who she was ever again.

"Hermione, look at me," he said. When her gold-flecked eyes met his, he lowered his occlumency shields. She needed to know he was being 100% honest. "You are the most powerful witch I have ever met. You're not only powerful, but you have the brains to back it up. Madam Pince will not hand the library over to you until you are good and ready, but never doubt that you are capable of controlling the Hogwarts library or any library in the world. I will not be surprised when the collection flourishes under your hand."

There were tears in her eyes and Severus almost cursed himself. But then he saw her smile. It was the one that made him feel like they were alone in the world. The smile that said she thought he was pretty amazing. The one that made his stomach clench and his blood flow straight south. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Severus, what are we doing here?" she asked.

The question was bigger than she made it sound. Severus knew she wasn't asking about dinner or his compliments or her future. She was asking about all of it. Her wooing of him, his reciprocation, what was going to happen between them in ten minutes, two months, and a hundred years. Standing, Severus circled the table and drew Hermione up to her feet. She bit her bottom lip and he lifted his hand to brush his thumb against it. Gently, he plucked it from the punishment of her teeth and bent closer so they were looking one another dead in the eye.

"Go sit on the couch, wife," he commanded.

Her pupils exploded, overtaking the brown of her eyes, and she nodded, backing away from him before she turned on her heels and fled like a pack of hellhounds were on her heels. Severus watched her go, appreciating the cling of her pajamas bottoms to her lovely bottom. With a few quick spells, he cleaned up the kitchen and doused the candles. Nerves overtook him as he stared out the doorway to the living room where his witch was waiting for him. There was only one more step in his plan. If he didn't win her now…

Shaking his head, Severus squared his shoulder and slipped off his robe. She wanted him. He'd seen it. And Merlin and the Fates and every bloody god from here to Toronto knew that he wanted her, too. It was about time they made this marriage real.

Hermione startled when his hands settled onto her shoulders. Severus rubbed his thumbs in soothing circles across her muscles until he felt her relax beneath his hands. Then he pulled out his secret weapon. Her hairbrush.

Circling the couch, he took a seat next to Hermione, ignoring how she tensed up again, and slowly turned her so she was facing away from him. He slipped his fingers under her still-damp hair and drew it back over her shoulder. Fanning it out over her back, he started at the bottom and began the long process of untangling her curls. He was gentle and patient and Hermione's silence turned to muted, appreciative sounds that sounded suspiciously like moans.

"Where did you learn to brush hair like this?" she murmured as he carefully worked out a particularly nasty knot.

"My mother let me brush her hair when I was a boy. She didn't have as many curls as you, but her hair was thick and we often couldn't afford soap or shampoos so it got quite tangled."

"Hmmm," Hermione sighed and leaned back towards him. "Was she pretty?"

"My mother?" he asked.

"Mmhmm."

He shrugged and started working on a second section of her hair. "I take after her if that tells you anything."

"Regal, then," Hermione said. "She probably had the best 'you're in trouble, buster' look ever."

"Actually," Severus furrowed his brow as he tried to remember his ma. It had been so long since he'd thought of her in any way except to curse her for his lot in life, it was hard to remember what she'd been like when fear and hatred of his father wasn't overshadowing their relationship. "She did. But she also had the best smile. Her teeth were perfectly straight. Of course, her father never kicked her jaw."

Hermione made a sound of pity and Severus set the brush aside and clasped her shoulders. "Don't," he warned.

She nodded. "Sorry. I just wish you'd had a perfect childhood. I wish every child could have a perfect childhood."

He picked the brush back up, done with the knots but wanting to smooth out her hair so he could plait it. "Well, it wasn't bad. Except when it was. And then it was horrible. But it was my childhood and it shaped me."

"And I couldn't imagine you not being you," she admitted softly.

He separated her hair into five sections. He'd never gotten the hang of a four-strand braid, but the five-strand had a lovely rhythm to it and he enjoyed the challenge of wrangling so many strands at once. He summoned a tie and rolled it onto his wrist before he began to braid. Left, right, outer, outer. Left, right, outer, outer.

"So you had the perfect childhood?" he asked once his fingers loosened up and remembered how to braid.

"Yes and no," Hermione said. "My parents both worked, so I was alone a lot. But they also love me deeply. I just… I think I missed out on a lot of my childhood because I grew up so quickly. Maybe it was just me and I would have done so no matter who my parents were but I think that mum and dad also encouraged me to work so hard and excel beyond my years. They were very proud of me. Before Hogwarts they had my whole life planned out."

He finished the tail of the braid and deftly looped the tie around it. Tilting his head, Severus figured it looked alright. He'd have to practice before he let her out of their quarters wearing one of his braids, though.

"Let me guess," he said, pulling Hermione back against his chest. The satin felt very nice against his skin. "You were going to Oxford to be a lawyer."

"Doctor," she corrected. "But close enough."

"Mmmm," he agreed. "And after the Hogwarts letter came?"

She laid her head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her chest, one above and one below the swell of her breasts. Setting his chin on the top of her head, he waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"At first they were proud. But eventually my magic became a wedge between us. And then the war came and… well, my parents don't even know I exist anymore."

Her emotions were reigned in but Severus could almost feel them thrumming just beneath the surface. He pulled her tighter against himself and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Hermione said. "We all have burdens. Some are lighter than others but they exist nonetheless."

"Hmmm," he agreed. "Am I one of your burdens, Hermione?"

She shook her head. "Am I yours?"

Releasing his hold on her, Severus pressed her shoulders until she turned back to face him. Without her curls in their riotous halo around her face, she looked strangely vulnerable. Her big brown eyes blinked up at him and he brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

"Not anymore," he promised.

Leaning closer, he kept his eyes open and gave her every opportunity to back away. Hermione simply stared at him, though. The pink left her cheeks but she held resolutely still as he closed the gap between them. Curling his hand beneath the braid at the back of her neck, Severus ghosted his lips across hers.

"I'm going to kiss you for real, Hermione," he said. She nodded and he pressed his lips, briefly, against hers before continuing, "And then I'm going to carry you to our bedroom and we're going to consummate our marriage. Is that alright?"

Her lip quivered but she nodded. Severus massaged the muscles in her neck and narrowed his eyes.

"I need to hear you say it," he said, his lips barely brushing hers with every syllable. "I won't be a monster who forces his wife."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want to kiss you."

"And?" he prompted.

Hermione's eyes were as dark as his, her desire having blown her pupils wide. She pressed her lips against his boldly, running her tongue over his bottom lip before pulling back and curling her fingers around his neck.

"I want you to make love to me," she said, punctuating her statement with a kiss.

"I want you to claim me as yours."

Another kiss.

"I want to spend so long exploring one another's bodies that the morning sun is what tells us to go to bed."

Kiss.

"And I want to fall asleep in your arms and never again wonder if you'll ever love me."

Kiss.

Growling, Severus scooped Hermione into his arms and stood up in one fluid movement. He claimed her lips with his own, never once closing his eyes as he watched her melt beneath his kiss. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he smirked at her.

"It appears your pajama top is defective," he murmured.

"Wha?" Hermione glanced down as he headed towards their bedroom and gasped when she realized all her buttons were undone. Clasping the sides of her top together, she wriggled against him as if to get free. He simply held her more tightly. "Where on earth did you learn a spell like that?"

Severus arched an eyebrow at his wife and dumped her onto the bed. "You didn't think I did up all those buttons on my frock coat by hand every day, did you?"

Before she could reply, he followed her onto the bed and captured her mouth again. Soon, Hermione was so engaged in snogging him, she didn't realize he had spelled off all the rest of their clothing, too.

Thank you so much for reading. And thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed this story.

I know I said I'd get this out to you "Next Week". Technically this is still in that time frame but I'll admit to feeling very guilty for making you wait so long. The first section was just not coming out right. I must have re-written it a hundred times because I just couldn't give you something that didn't complete this story as well as it deserved. To make up for the wait, I expanded the rest of this chapter by a couple thousand words. Overall I think the extra time resulted in a much better final chapter. I hope you think so too. So thank you for your patience on this chapter.

Blessings.