No More Scars

Tears. There were no more tears. All had been spent. The sadness had passed and in its place, a festering rage began to take hold. What a waste, she thought. She would soon be arrested and sentenced to Azkaban for evading the law and it would be all his fault. The man who was supposed to love and cherish her, for better or worse, until death did they part; the insufferable man who couldn't understand her need for privacy and respect her insecurities. The man who was supposed to be different from all of the immoral, conceited, and shallow wankers she had dated before. He was supposed to be different. In so many ways he had been different from all of her previous tosser boyfriends, except in this one respect—He was still a man—and all men are visual creatures.

Being the perfect, patient and understanding wife had not been enough, even though when they got into this racket, she had desperately hoped it would be. It was the least she could do for him; he who sacrificed his own personal comforts to ensure that she was safe, that she was happy. So she did her level best to ensure his comfort and pleasures above her own in return—which really wasn't too hard since that was her nature anyway.

In the sitting area of their bedroom, she sat in one of wingback chairs twirling her wand between her fingers; the large tome in her lap long forgotten as she seethed in righteous anger. The clock on the mantel chimed 10-o-clock. Another day gone that he had not come home. Her eyes roamed about the room from the mantel, to the door, to their bed, to the wand in her hand. How did it come to this? she wondered. "I should have just gone to America," she said aloud before sending a curse at the vase of fresh flowers on the nearby table, causing it to burst into a million pieces.

…

"I CANT BELIEVE THIS! THEY CAN'T DO THIS TO US!" Hermione shouted. "IT'S COMPLETELY NONCONSTITUTIONAL, CLEO!" The white and orange calico cat lounging beside her stopped licking his paws momentary to give his mistress an annoyed stare—she was yelling again.

She threw the newspaper onto the coffee table, knocking over her fresh cup of tea. With an annoyed growl cast a cleaning spell and stomped to the bedroom. The moment the door slammed, Cleo leapt from his comfy pillow onto the coffee table to lap up the few drops of tea his bushy haired mistress had missed. He gave no notice to the discarded newspaper or the article on its front page.

MARRIAGE LAW PASSES

In a controversial session of the Wizengamot today, a Bill was passed forcing unmarried witches and wizards between the ages of 25 and 45 to marry and begin producing children. This decision comes after nearly two years of debate. Sources say the Wizengamot was very reluctant to impose this law on the magical citizens living within the United Kingdom, but found they had little alternative as the birthrate of magical children continues to decline.

In previous years, low magical children birthrates were traditionally isolated to Pureblood families (A common side effect of inbreeding is low fertility rates and a higher chance of giving birth to Squibs). However, since the downfall of You-Know-Who seven years ago, birth rates are still alarmingly low. The Wizengamot is worried that if action is not taken, we may actually breed ourselves into extinction.

The key points of Marriage and Procreation Act 79534, passed 3 March, 2005, are as follows:

Purebloods must either marry a Halfblood, Muggleborn or Muggle of the opposite sex. Purebloods may no longer breed solely with Purebloods.

Muggleborns must marry a Pureblood or Halfblood witch or wizard of the opposite sex.

A child must be conceived within six months of the marriage date. Witches and wizards who fail to comply will be subjected to rigorous physical examinations to determine fertility complications and if none arise, said witch or wizard may have their wand snapped and be sentenced to Azkaban.

The use of any contraception is strictly prohibited.

All witches and wizards subject to this law have six months from today (3 September 2005) to find a suitable partner and marry. Any witch or wizard who fails to do so will either have their partner assigned to them by the Ministry of Magic or be sentenced to Azkaban.

Persons within the allotted age group who are already married are required to conceive a magical child by the six month deadline.

This law is to remain in effect until such time that it is no longer necessary.

Officials from the newly organized department of Marriage and Procreation for Magical Families will be sending notifications to all witches and wizards subject to this new law beginning next week. It is rumored that they may even provide suggestions for potential mates in these letters.

This law is sure to cause a great deal of unrest within wizarding Briton.

….

Like most of wizarding London, Hermione walked to the Ministry of Magic the following Monday with a measure of apprehension in her step. Today the first of the marriage letters would arrive and she was sure that her status as a war hero meant she was at the top of the list to receive hers first.

Sure enough, lying on the top of the stack of that day's posts was an envelope with the official ministry seal. "I really hate Mondays," she sighed, slamming her office door shut and warding her office, she took the plunge.

Dear Miss Hermione Jean Granger,

We are delighted to inform you that due to your status as an unmarried witch between the ages of 25 and 45, you are hereby selected and, more appropriately, required to participate in Marriage and Procreation Act 79534, approved and signed into Law 3 March, 2005.

Compliance with this law stipulates that you marry a wizard within the next six months and produce or become pregnant with a magical child within the six months following. If you fail to comply with these regulations, an inquest will be made into the nature of your fertility and can possibly lead to imprisonment in Azkaban. For your information, details of The Act have been included in this letter.

Hoping you are well,

"Blah, blah, blah," she said, crumpling the letter into a ball and igniting it with her wand tip.

With that out of the way, Hermione tucked in at her desk and began processing that day's work. To her great frustration, she still had yet to be granted audience with the chairman for the Management and Regulation of the Treatment of Magical Creatures to discuss the new regulations she wished to implement concerning the treatment of House Elves. In the last several years she had successfully reformed statutes and relations with the centuer colonies and the goblins, but the department still refused to discuss anything related to the House Elves. This of course infuriated Hermione because it was her opinion that House Elves were the most poorly treated of magical creatures and thus in need of her help the most; her childish enterprise of S.P.E.W not forgotten and constantly at the back of her mind.

"Miss Granger!" her assistant yelled over the voicebox.

"What is it Arlene?"

"You have a lot of visitors this morning, Ma'am, and some of them are becoming a tad forceful, insisting that they be allowed to see you without an appointment."

And so it begins.

"Tell them I have no interest in seeing anyone today without an appointment."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Hermione honestly felt sorry for her assistant having to deal with the throng of potential suitors literally banging at her door, but the young woman was fortunately too young to be affected by the Marriage Law at this time (her turn would come in a couple of years) thus, Hermione didn't see why the girl couldn't get some real hands on training for when it did.

"Mr. Potter to see you," called once more over the voicebox some hours later. By the sound of it, the ruckus outside her office had not died down.

Harry did not wait for permission to be admitted. Peaking over his shoulder when he entered, Hermione could see the large crowd of men clamoring outside her door to be granted audience. Some waved flowers and even jeweled necklaces in their hands for her to see before the door slammed once more.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked giving his friend a warm hug.

"All that bloody noise sure makes it hard to concentrate on ones work. I should have just stayed home today. Don't any of those guys have anywhere else to be, or am I the only eligible woman in this country?"

"That's why I'm here. Get your stuff and let's go."

"An armed escort?" she teased.

"For the most brilliant witch in England and war heroine to boot; you better believe it."

It was not easy to get out of the Ministry once she emerged from her office. The herd of men waiting outside her office followed her and Harry through the corridors until they managed to make it to the floos. Hermione noticed many young women she passed starring daggers at her for having the attentions of all the men.

"It's not as if I asked for this," she said to her friend, walking with a protective arm around her.

"No you didn't. But you are the most famous Muggleborn witch in the country. And a war hero. And have a prestigious Ministry career. And you're really pretty. You can't really blame them for having good taste, right?" Harry replied with a smirk.

With a burst of emerald flames, they disappeared from the mayhem and landed in the living room of her London flat. Harry quickly warded the floo so that no one else would be able to come through while Hermione chanced a gander from the window out onto the street. It was filled with wizards, young and old, hoping for a chance to speak with her. Even more disturbing was the abominably large pile of letters by her front door of, no doubt, written petitions for her hand in marriage.

"When the Wizengamot decided to pass this law, did they bother to take into account the social havoc it would cause?"

"I honestly don't know what they were thinking," Harry replied, leading his friend down to the kitchen for a soothing cup of tea. "When I spoke to Kingsley about it, he said his hands were tied. The numbers said it all—they had no choice."

Hermione scoffed. "That's bollocks! I'm sure there are plenty of alternatives to taking away people's right to choose whom they will marry."

"Not really. Even I didn't realize how bad things are until he showed it to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you and I know that after 1945 the muggle word saw a huge influx in baby births. Well, the magical world saw the same thing. Both worlds had been at war. Then Tommy Boy comes along and starts wreaking havoc. People are dying; people are scared, and so there aren't as many births. After he was destroyed the first time that night, there was a slight increase in births but not much since so many people had died. Then, he rises from the dead and the whole reign of terror starts all over again. There are many people that are still convinced he is not really gone this time. He came back from the dead once; he can do it again they say. So, people are more reluctant to marry and have children just in case their fears are right and Tom does come back. You, me, Kingsley, the Order, we all know he is dead for sure as do most of the people who were at Hogwarts to witness it. But there were a lot of people not there that are having a hard time taking the Ministry's word for it.

"The Ministry has tried for the last several years to reiterate and confirm that Tom is truly gone by holding annual balls and celebrations, but it has done little to assure everyone. Kingsley told me the Wizengamot wanted to enact this law years ago, but he managed to get them to hold off, telling them that the people needed time to rebuild their lives. This year they finally said the people have had long enough and the bill could no longer be deferred."

They sat in silence for several minutes sipping their tea and digesting the information. Hermione could understand the Wizengamot's reason, but that didn't mean she agreed with them.

"I'm worried for you, Hermione," Harry said finally. "I don't want to see you get stuck with someone like Malfoy. Merlin knows his lot will be coming after you with everything they've got. Even if they are disgusted by the notion of marrying a Muggleborn, you are a war hero. What better way to reestablish your family in good standing in society than a ex-Death Eater marrying a war heroine?"

"I'm more bothered by the fact that this law makes my pathetic love-life officially pathetic. The only way I can get a man to make a life time commitment to me is because he is required to by law. It's quite hilarious isn't it?" she said laughing shakily before tears began to flow.

Severus looked at his ministry letter and sneered. Curse them! He had just turned forty-five years old this past January. He never had wished to be older than he currently was at any given point in his life, but in this moment, he was wishing he was forty-six.

He had resigned himself to never marrying some time ago, convinced that no woman in her right mind would ever want to marry him. The large stack of letters on his desk spoke otherwise. Judging by the seals on many of them, former Death Eater colleagues were petitioning him to marry their daughters, no doubt to restore some semblance of honor to their shattered family name by aligning their names with his. Tossers! For the last several years they wanted nothing to do with the so called Traitor of the Dark Lord; now they wanted everything. Severus scoffed. They can all go to hell!

Stuffing the pile of letters in his satchel and grabbing a newly filled decanter of firewhiskey from the sideboard, he warded his office and apparated to Paddington, London.

He arrived in the housing district to complete pandemonium. At least the blighters had the sense to cast a Notice-Me-Not on themselves as they flocked to a muggle neighborhood. Pointing his wand in the air, he set off a loud BANG! All of the wizards immediately turned on him, wands drawn.

"Don't you all have somewhere better to be?" said Severus in his usual daunting way as he pocketed his wand. He recognized many of the men in the crowd to be older versions of his former students and smirked that they still found their former potions professor intimidating, if not slightly scary.

"Get in line, Snape! We were all here first!"

Snape turned his terrifying sneer on the handsome young man. With a flick of his wrist the young man flew into a nearby tree and was knocked unconscious.

"You never did learn to respect your superiors, Mr. Henslowe. Perhaps you will start now," he said dryly, walking through the now parting mass to make his way to the front gate. "The rest of you will get much further with Miss Granger if you cease badgering her at her place of residence. Be off with you!" he ordered.

Almost as one, the group disapperated, save for Mr. Henslowe. He had almost made it to the front door when someone called to him…

"Uncle?"

Severus turned to see his handsome godson, Draco Malfoy standing in the street.

"Draco, what on earth are you doing here?"

"Father sent me," the blond replied, shrugging his shoulders. "He says I should try for Granger."

Severus sighed and walked back to the garden gate. "I hate to break it to you, but Hermione is not likely to align herself with any former Death Eater, but most especially not a Malfoy."

Malfoy looked snubbed.

"Don't misunderstand me, Draco. You must remember what she suffered in your family home at the hands of your aunt while you, your mother, and your father looked on. She may be civil towards you now, but some wounds run too deep."

Draco nodded his head, regretfully.

"Besides, I thought you had a lady friend?" Severus inquired with a small smile.

"I do. She is a muggle, believe it or not. Father said our family could sink no lower than to introduce a mud-muggleborn into our family, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He would be furious if he knew I've been dating a muggle for six months."

The older wizard agreed. Lucius would indeed be furious.

"What does your mother say?"

"Mother likes her. Says it would do our family some good to introduce some fresh blood."

"Your mother is a wise woman, Draco. You are a grown man now; you must stand on your own two feet and take charge for your life. Your father cannot dictate to you anymore."

The younger man thought about it his godfather's words for a minute.

"Thank you, Uncle," he replied, squaring his shoulders. "Are you going to try for Granger?"

Severus scoffed. "Hardly. But she and I are the only two most decorated and celebrated war heroes that aren't married yet. Judging by the crowd that was just here, I imagine she could use someone to rant to. I sure as hell know I do."

Draco chuckled. "Good luck." Embracing his godfather, he then turned on his heel and disapperated.

"Hermione? Are you home?" he called as he entered the foyer.

Severus loved Hermione's house. The nineteenth century Georgian villa facing the Paddington Branch canal epitomized modest grandeur and sophistication; both traits being very attractive to him. Off to one side of the foyer was a large parlor, painted in soft cream to compliment the light wood floors, and furnished with several 19th century pieces upholstered in soft blues and yellows. To the other side was her library; the walls lined with hundreds of leather tomes, a large ornate oak desk in the center, and a tall draped window looking out into her garden.

"In the kitchen," he heard her reply.

He took the stairs down to the garden floor, landing in the large dining room. A large round table, where she regularly hosted her friends to supper and games, took up most of the room. A large fireplace was on the opposite wall with an enormous gilded mirror hanging over it and a set of French doors perpendicular to the stairs opened to her lush garden where she lovingly grew flowers and herbs.

"I have dispersed the mob that was outside your gate," he announced, setting his satchel and firewhiskey on the table. He placed a chaste kiss on Hermione's cheek before shaking hands with Potter across the table. "Care for a drink?"

Harry declined but Hermione said she was in dire need of something stronger than tea.

"Your time is impeccable, Snape," the younger man said, standing. "I need to get back to the Ministry. I trust I can leave 'Mione in your capable hands?"

Such cheek. Some things never change. It took all of his will power not to sneer at the messy haired lad.

"Of course," he replied, handing Hermione her drink which she downed in one large gulp.

"Call me if you need me." Giving his friend a tender kiss on the cheek, Harry saw himself out.

Severus bristled involuntarily at seeing the affectionate exchange. Everyone knew that Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were close. He, himself, was witness to their years together at Hogwarts and rarely was one ever seen without the other. They were friends, best friends, similar to how he and Lily had been in his childhood. Perhaps, that is what annoyed him the most—he longed to have a similar friendship once more. Hermione had been one of the first to step up and be his friend after the war, but he always knew in the back of his mind that they would never be as close as she was with Harry.

"I saw your pile of letters," he said, sitting across from her at the table. "I brought mine. I thought we might go through them together and drink away our misery in the process."

Hermione gave him a genuine smile. "Bloody marvelous idea," she replied, holding out her glass to be refilled.

Several hours later found them stretched out on the faux-fur rug in front of the fireplace in the parlor, laughing hysterically.

"I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Draco has that conversation with his father. I am pretty sure every pureblood ancestor and Voldemort himself will be rolling in their graves."

The former Death Eater smiled brightly at the girl hunched over in a fit of giggles. He so loved it when she laughed. Often times she was too serious; usually weighed down by work, but when she laughed, her cinnamon eyes lit up and her checks flushed and her curly hair bounced. He thought she looked rather pretty.

Their individual piles of marriage proposals had been had been sorted into Definitely No's and Maybe's. Suffice it to say, the No's pile was significantly larger than the Maybe's. With that out of the way, they settled in to drink and laugh. It was a much better substitute to wallowing in the misery that currently plagued them. It was easy enough to joke about what if's, but the truth of the matter was really not a laughing matter.

Severus had been repulsed to find that Sybil Trelawney had written to him, asking him to marry her. Everyone knew the batty woman had always harbored a crush on the man, but seeing that bizarre love declared in print made him want to vomit. Hermione on the other hand, could barely contain her laughter as she read aloud a proposal from Vincent Crabbe, one of Malfoy's henchmen from school. It was so poorly spelled, she was sure her I.Q dropped ten points. His letter was tossed into the No's pile.

….

Hermione groaned as blinding morning light shown in through the window and right into her eyes. Oh the pain! With a wave of her hand, the drapes pulled shut, slightly decreasing the burning in her eyes and pounding in her head. She couldn't remember the last time she had been hungover, but she was pretty sure it was the feeling like shit like she was at that very moment, that made her refrain from doing it for so long.

Stumbling over Snape's unconscious form, she staggered down to the kitchen for a handy hangover potion. Immediate relief flowed through her veins as she set another hangover potion out on the table for her inebriated companion. "I love magic," she sighed, putting some bread in the toaster and the kettle on the stove.

Severus blinked away the haze settled in his eyes. One would think after years of heavy drinking hard liquor, he would have been used to the effects. Hardly. He was just as susceptible to a crippling hangover as the next man; especially after downing a whole decanter of firewhiskey. His head was pounding, his body felt like it weighed a million tons, and he was pretty sure some invisible being was holding a blow-torch to his retinas every time he opened his eyes. The one thing pleasant about the morning was the smell of toast and tea coming up from the kitchen. And is that sausage?! With a content smile, Severus managed to roll onto his back—a step closer to standing up than he was before—an image of a "little woman" barefoot and wearing one of his oversized t-shirts while cooking him breakfast filled his mind. It took him a few seconds to realize that the woman his was fantasizing about was in fact his friend and drinking partner from last night.

With a gasp he sat up too fast and instantly regretted it as the pounding in his chest was amplified in his head.

"This just may be the craziest idea I have ever had," he groaned.

Slowly, he made his way down toward the kitchen where he found Hermione sitting at the small table munching on toast with strawberries and reading the Daily Prophet. Without looking up, she held a vial between her thumb and index finger out to him.

"You're an angel," he sighed, taking it and swallowed it in own gulp.

"Tea?" she offered, pushing a cup across the table towards him.

He sat and contemplated her in silence for several minutes. Is such an idea really possible? he wondered. All he could do was try and ask her.

"I had a thought this morning, Hermione."

"Hmmm?"

Here goes nothing! "What if you and I were to get married?"

Hers eyes grew as wide as saucers when she finally dropped her paper and stared at him. "Marry you?"

"Well you don't have to make it sound so repulsive."

Hermione shook her head to clear it, still slightly dismayed by his quasi-marriage proposal.

"I didn't mean it that way, Severus. I just wasn't expecting it is all. I'm in a bit of a shock. Why on earth would you want to marry me?"

Severus chose his words very delicately. "Well, we both have to marry someone." Not.

"When you put it like that, how could I possibly resist?"

"Oh come off it, Hermione; you know what I mean. We both have to marry someone and it is perhaps quite fortunate that we are friends. We could marry each other instead people we wouldn't like."

"Severus, this isn't like buying a new car or a new set of robes. It's not something you try on for size and if you decide you don't like it return them to the store. This is serious!"

"I know that, which is why I suggested it. There weren't a whole lot of great choices in our stacks of letters and I think it is safe to say that we each want the other to be happy right?"

She nodded.

"And the likelihood of us truly finding happiness when paired with a complete stranger is pretty slim, right?"

Again she nodded.

"Then let's get married. I don't want to marry Sybil, you don't want to marry Crabbe; it's perfect."

"Gee Sev, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet don't you?" she said dryly, dumping her dirty dishes in the sink.

Severus was confused. What doesn't she like about this idea?

"Thank you for the proposal, Severus. It's really generous of you. I will be sure to take it into consideration," she said in a huff. "Now, if you'll excuse me; I have to get ready for work."

He listened to her stomp up the stairs as he finished his tea in a confused stupor. What did he say wrong?

…..

"Mr. Snape, there's a Mrs. Potter to see you."

Severus scrubbed a hand over his weary face before nodding to his assistant to let the woman in.

"You are looking well, Miss Weasley," he said, plastering a smile on his lips and shaking her hand.

"Spare me the pleasantries, Snape. And it's Mrs. Potter. As I recall you were there to witness the union," she replied, seating herself in one of the chairs across from him.

"What can I do for you, Ginevra?"

The witch's face turned as red as her hair—she hated being called by her given name, and he knew it too. Bastard!

"I hear you made a complete arse of yourself this morning," she sneered.

No more than usual.

"I should have known she would tell Potter," he said bitterly.

"Hermione didn't tell Harry, nor will she or I ever tell him. And for the record, she doesn't know I am here."

"Noted."

"All right then. Now, she told me what you said this morning and I must say, you, Sir, are a complete dunderhead when it comes to women." Severus knew this already. "I am going to take a guess that you were making an attempt at channeling your inner-Gryffindor and were actually proposing an honorable proposition. However, your delivery could use some work. But before I give you advice on how to woo my highly logical but still feminine friend, I have a few questions to put to you."

He waved for her to proceed.

"One: if you were to marry Hermione, would you be faithful to her in every aspect of the marriage vows?"

Severus nodded.

"Two: if you were to marry Hermione, would you expect her to step back from her career and become a socialite wife or a trained housewife?"

"She would kill me if I ever suggested a notion."

"That doesn't answer the question, Snape."

"No I would not. I might suggest it if I saw it was taking a toll on her health, but you and I both know that Hermione's passion for her work is her life's force. She cannot be without it and be the same person."

Ginny smiled at the brooding Potion Master. "I couldn't agree more.

"Three: are you prepared to have children with Hermione? To help support and raise them in a loving home?"

Children? Severus had forgotten all about the clause requiring they have children. In truth, he never thought he would live long enough to become a father and any of his former students would testify in court that the former Professor Snape was not particularly fond of children. Which he really wasn't. But in all fairness, he didn't have much experience with children aside from his students. He was Draco's godfather but that required nothing more than a gift on birthdays. And his only examples of fatherhood were his own father—the drunken, good for nothing bastard—and his friend Lucius, who was a bit of a manipulative prig to his son. Not very promising.

He cleared his throat. "I honestly don't know the first thing about being a good parent. I didn't exactly have great examples in my life. But I like to think that I could be, given the opportunity."

"Good answer, Professor. Final question: is Hermione's status as a virgin an issue for you?"

Severus nearly fell out of his chair. "Miss Weasley that is none of your business!" he blushed.

"Potter! And yes it is. Hermione is a sister to me and I will not see her taken advantage of."

"I don't want to take advantage of her; I want to take care of her!"

Ginny's sudden burst of rage at the man melted away. "Continue."

"Not that it is any of your business, and it really isn't, Hermione is my friend. I don't want to see her get tied to some dunderhead that won't appreciate her brilliance. Most likely they'll just try to take all of her money and spend it on trollops. She deserves better than that."

"And the whole virginity thing?"

"That is something I will have to discuss with her, but no, it is not an issue for me. If anything it makes me feel all the more protective of her. I'm just amazed to learn that she still is one."

The red headed witch smiled. "Thank you, Professor Snape. You have taken a great deal off my mind. Now, shall we commence with your instruction in how to woo the brightest witch of our age? You may call me Professor Potter," she said with a fiendish grin.

Severus buried his face in his hands. What was he getting himself into?

…..

As he tried to sleep that night, Severus Snape kept playing over everything the Weasley chit had told him. He never before took Hermione to be the sentimental and romantic type; highly logical and no nonsense like him was more like it. Somehow he managed to miss a very important fact: she is a girl and though a girl may not outwardly express it, all girls love that romantic crap, and Hermione was no exception. She just preferred to receive rare books instead of roses.

His mind kept drifting back to one teeny-tiny, very important detail—Hermione was still a virgin. Could it really be possible? He certainly didn't want to think about it but based on his experience prowling the halls of Hogwarts late at night happening upon students in heat, Snape automatically assumed that the Gryffindor Princess had been involved at some point too. There was no denying she had grown from an ugly frizzy haired duckling into a beautiful swan. How could any young man have passed up such an opportunity?

Then again, this was Hermione he was thinking about. She wasn't the silly, frilly type who went about throwing her charms at every cute guy that crossed her path; unlike some. She was a girl of principle, of sound judgment (although he often did question her choice of friends), with a subtle hidden beauty that really could only be discovered by getting to know her. Her outward beauty only went so far, but what made Hermione Jean Granger truly beautiful was her soul—her compassionate, loyal, inspiring, unquenchable soul.

Bloody hell, Severus! You sound like a man in love.

Would she really be able to trust him with such a prize as her chastity? Twirling the engagement ring he had selected from a collection of family heirlooms around his finger, he hoped in the deepest recesses of his heart, that just maybe she could.

….

By the end of the week, the majority of the chaos associated with The Letters had died down. Hermione took a chance and turned down every marriage proposal she received and burned all of the letters. No one really suited her tastes. Reading between the lines, they were all after the same thing: her money and her position. She found it rather amusing that suddenly the tables were turned and all of these Pureblood heirs were chasing after a, what they had long deemed beneath them, muggleborn. The very nature of the law, in her opinion, was archaic. It went against all of her ideals for happiness and personal liberty—ideals she devoted her life to ensuring were extended to all magical beings.

After several failed relationships, she was basically resigned to never getting married. There just never would be that one guy that would appreciate, respect, love and support her the way she needed him to. To add insult to injury the Ministry had to go pass this atrocious Marriage Law and basically confirmed that no man really wanted her except when required to by law. Even Severus, her good friend, had said they should get married only so they didn't have to marry anyone else. How bloody romantic!

So as always, when something was upsetting her, Hermione buried herself in her work working longer hours barricaded in her office and rarely speaking to anyone. Harry stopped by once or twice to check up on her, but knew the better to leave her fuming in silence. On this particular evening, it was well past eight-o-clock before she even bothered to look up at the clock. Her hand was cramped from writing, her eyes were tired from reading, and her stomach was practically eating itself from hunger. Now was as good a time as any to call it quits for the day.

Taking her coat off the wall hook, she warded her office and made her way to the floos and from there, home.

The moment she stepped out of the fireplace into her living room, she knew something was amiss. For starters, a trail of rose petals and lit candles in votives led from where she was standing, down the stairs. Another peculiarity was the soft music she heard coming from downstairs. Drawing her wand, Hermione cautiously made her way down the romantically lit stairwell. There were only a handful of people keyed into the wards of her house and none of them would make such a romantic gesture—except Severus, they were all married—thus she concluded someone else must have broken in.

In the dining room she found the perpetrator. He was standing behind the elegantly set table, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for her. Hermione mentally noted how handsome he looked in his trim muggle suit with his silky locks pulled back and tied with a silver ribbon.

"Severus? What is all this?" she asked, lowering her wand and motioning towards the candles and table.

"This, my dear Hermione, is for you. An apology of sorts for making a total arse of myself the other day," he replied holding out a chair for her.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time a man pulled out her chair for her. If she had to guess it would have been Victor Krum at the Yule Ball in fourth year. That was a long time ago.

Sitting gingerly, she watched curiously as her friend stepped into the kitchen, returning a moment later with two small plates of salad. It was a little known fact that Severus Snape, renowned bat of the dungeons, Potions Master and expert duelist, was also a phenomenal cook. He set a plate in front of her then at his own place setting.

"Wine?" he offered, and she nodded.

"Severus, you didn't have to go through all this just to apologize. I know you didn't mean anything by what you said. We were both hungover and not thinking clearly. For a moment I thought one of my many admirers had broken in."

"You were wise to have your wand drawn," he said sitting across from her. "I assure you my intentions are completely honorable and I mean you no harm," he teased.

Hermione smiled genuinely and tucked in to her salad. They ate in relative silence, she offering a compliment on each of the courses he served; he asking her about her work. When they finished, they retreated into the moonlit garden for a nightcap.

"You truly are a man of many talents, Severus. The meal was delicious."

He inclined his head in recognition of her compliments. "I must confess, Hermione, that my objective this evening was twofold: first to apologize and second: to ask for a second chance."

The wizard could barely contain the hitch in his breath as the young witch turned her intent gaze on him. The moon shown on her porcelain skin, giving it a celestial glow. She really was such a beautiful woman; he wondered why he hadn't bothered to truly notice it before.

"Second chance?" she asked.

Severus nodded, motioning that they sit on the bench under the arbor. "Yes. You see I was serious about what I said Tuesday about us getting married—I just mucked up the delivery. Hear me out first, before you say anything," he said, raising a hand to silence her eager retort. "It's more than just we both have to marry someone that motivates me to make this suggestion. I know I am not much of a catch by any means when it comes to looks. But I like to think that over the last several years I have finally had the opportunity to develop into a good man.

"You are a good woman, Hermione, and I care about you. It may sound juvenile to say so, but you are my very best friend; the first I have had in a very long time. I don't want to see you end up with just anybody. And not to toot my own horn here, but I really don't think there is another man out there who would understand or be as encouraging of your vocational pursuits as I am. I want you to have your passion—it is what I admire most about you. I also want you to be taken care of; appreciated, respected, and cherished for the incredible woman you are.

"That being said," he moved from the bench kneel in front of her, "I am hoping you will do me the incredible honor of being my wife," he said holding out the ring.

Hermione gasped at the sight of it. There was nothing remotely Slytherin, as one would expect from the former Head of House, about the white gold vintage halo diamond ring. It was modest but very elegant, characteristics Severus felt described her perfectly.

She thought about his offer for several silent minutes, altering glances between the ring and his dark eyes. Hermione had always loved his eyes; so dark and mysterious. Many perceived them as cold but in truth they were warm and deep like his emotions. He had spoken from the heart, his words touching her own in a way that she had not experienced before. Severus didn't want this to be a marriage of convenience for either of them—he wanted it to be a real marriage based on mutual affection and respect. But was he even attracted to her? She replayed the conversation in her head to see if she had missed him saying something about that. He hadn't. Of course he had complimented her appearance at official functions or when they went out with friends, but so did Harry—like a good brother and best friend ought to—it didn't mean he was attracted to her. If she and Severus were going to be married, this was an important element and needed to be addressed.

"Do you find me attractive, Severus?" she asked sheepishly. Hermione certainly found him attractive. Not only his brilliance but also his physique—he took care of himself now that he was at liberty to do so—and she was often guilty of admiring his strong arms and sculpted shoulders. Something about shoulders made her go weak in the knees and Severus Snape had fabulous shoulders. And his voice! Bloody hell she didn't even want to get started thinking about his velvety baritone voice that made her swoon like a pathetic school girl. But what was she in comparison? Petite with decent curves not as voluptuous as some, frizzy brown hair and an average face.

Severus could see the vulnerability in her question. Like himself, during her school years what she lacked in physical appearance she had made up for in brains. Except that now she really was a rare beauty and he was just older.

Retaking his seat beside her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Yes, Hermione, I find you very attractive." He hoped that would suffice and he wouldn't have to embarrass himself by listing every last thing he found alluring about her. It was.

"I find you attractive as well," she confessed.

Breaking eye contact, she once more turned her attention to the diamond ring pinched between his thumb and index finger. There really was no better alternative knocking at her door. She knew Severus to be a good and honorable man—he would do everything in his power to make her happy—so why not?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione held out her left hand and allowed him to slide the ring on the appropriate finger. Magically, it resized to fit her diminutive hands. Not really sure if he expected her to kiss him, she was relieved when he settled for a hug—pulling her into a comforting embrace.

….

"Sweet Merlin on a bike! You're engaged?"

Hermione blushed as, Ron, with all the subtly of a Blast-ended Skrewt, announced to the whole bloody house of the confidence she was trying to share in private. Mrs. Weasley followed by the stampede of all other Weasley's in the house.

"So soon, dear? Are you sure you are making the right choice?" she asked examining the ring on the young witches finger.

It took an enormous amount of will power not to roll her eyes at the woman she considered her surrogate mother. With respect, she was a grown woman now and perfectly capable of making her own choices.

"And whom are we marrying?" George asked with a mischievous grin.

Gulp! "Severus."

"WHAT?" they all yelled at once, with the exception of Ginny and Harry who stepped forward and hugged her tenderly.

"That man! He is too old for you."

"You must be crazy. The man is a Death Eater!"

Mr Weasley came forward next to offer his congratulations. "The fact that he chose you, Hermione, says a great deal about his good judgment and taste."

"Thank you, Mr Weasley," she blushed and kissed him on the cheek.

"You cannot marry him! He could practically be your father!"

"Guess all of the good ones were already taken."

Harry put his fingers between his lips and blew an ear-splitting whistle. It had the desired effect of shutting everyone up.

"First off: Snape is no more a Death Eater than I am, Ron. Second: Hermione is technically twenty-nine years old. I think she is perfectly capable of making important decisions on her own. And third: she is going to marry him because there is no one better suited to take care of my best friend." Harry put a protective arm around her. "And I am honored to be giving her away to the bravest man I have ever known."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as she hugged her best friend. She could always count on him to stick up for her, like a big brother.

The day after Severus' second proposal, she had rushed over to Grimmauld Place to tell Harry and Ginny the news and ask them to stand in as witnesses. A little concerned about the hasty nature of this decision, Harry sat his friend down and talked it out with her. He only wanted her to be happy and if she was convinced Snape would make her happy, then he was delighted for them both. Ginny then took a turn going over "girl stuff."

Halfway through that conversation, Mrs Weasley popped her head in via floo-call to invite her daughter and husband to dinner the next coming weekend. Seeing Hermione there, the matron of course included her in the invitation. After dinner, Hermione had pulled Ron, her other best friend aside to tell him her good news and that is who the whole ghastly news came out.

"Well," Mrs Weasley said, nervously clearing the air; "You must be beside yourself overwhelmed with wedding plans. Not to worry dear, I will gladly help you."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, guiltily. "Um….that is very kind that you offer Mrs Weasley, but Severus and I have decided it will be a very private affair. We don't want any fuss. It's just not our style."

"Oh but you must!" she screeched. "Every girl deserves to have the perfect wedding where all her friends and family can see her."

Friends, yes. Family, no. Hermione didn't have any blood family; not any more. The charm she placed on her parents before going on the hunt for horcruxes with Harry had proved irreversible—they were forever more Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Her grandparents had died when she was young and each of her parents had been an only child, so there were no aunts or uncles or cousins to turn to. No, Harry was her only real family now, taking her in after the war and helping her get on her feet before she went off to University, and loving her like any real brother would.

Severus didn't have any family either. His parents were dead and all of his grandparents, leaving him the sole heir of the Prince family fortune.

Thus, when they had discussed wedding plans, both were agreed that the smaller, the better. Their status as war heroes would have no doubt made their wedding a high profiled event and neither of them wanted that. So they set a date for a few weeks out and Severus, albeit grudgingly, agreed to let Potter and Miss Weasley stand in as witnesses. He really wasn't as bothered by the idea as he let on—he knew his perspective bride would need support for such a momentous occasion as getting married.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley, but it has been decided," Hermione said a bit more firmly. "Severus and I are having a private marriage ceremony. We do not wish to snub or offend anyone; we just don't want it to be a big deal. I wasn't even planning on telling you until we came back from our honeymoon, but…"

She gave Ron an incredulous look that said: "Thanks a lot."

"Well if you're sure dear," Mrs Weasley sighed in defeat. After that, the commotion broke up and everyone went about their business.

…..

"You look absolutely gorgeous!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione blushed as she emerged from the fitting room. "You don't think it's too much," she asked spinning around once.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well, I do want to look nice, for him, even if it's not a proper wedding. Severus is being so generous I figured the least I could do is look nice for the pictures."

Ginny rose from her stool and took her dear friend by the shoulders. "I think he is going to love it. He would be stupid not to and we all know Severus Snape is not a stupid man. Except when it comes to marriage proposals, but he got it right the second time."

Hermione chucked and twirled in front of the mirror once more. It really was a beautiful dress. Ginny had insisted she wear white to keep with muggle tradition but chose something not so big and froofy as was common for typical brides. The one shoulder, sweetheart neckline showed off her slender neck and collar bone with just a hint of bosom peeking out of the fitted bodice, flattering her narrow waist and the curves of her hips before flowing loosely to just above the knee. She coupled it with a short white blazer to cover the ugly "mudblood" scar on her arm. It was a simple, yet elegant design.

"Should I wear a veil, do you think?"

"I wouldn't. I think it would be overkill. But I will let you have your pick of the Potter family jewels to barrow," the redhead said with a smile. "Now hurry up and change so we can move on to your trousseaux."

The two witches left the dress shop, the new gown tucked away in a bag, hanging over the crook of the soon to be bride's arm. They walked a couple of blocks, before Ginny directed them down a side alley and into a hidden boutique. Hermione was sure she had never seen so much lingerie in her life, ranging from ultra conservative to super racy and everything in between. But it was a fancy boutique, full of high end lingerie, not the sleazy stuff designed for porn stars and super models.

"Can I help you ladies find something," a sharply dressed sales associate asked.

"Yes! My friend here is getting married in a few days and we need to put together her trousseaux," the redhead witch replied.

"Congratulations! Let me show you what we have new in stock," the woman said, taking Hermione by the arm and walking her around the shop.

Ginny just snickered at her friend, who was clearly out of her element and way in over her head.

….

Severus walked anxiously through the ministry. No one would have guessed by looking at him that he was nervous; ever the master of his emotions, he looked calm but in a hurry. In one pocket of his tailored suit he carried a delicate wedding band. In another, his minimized suitcase and a permit for international apparation. Today was sure to prove to be an interesting day.

Up the lifts, he stepped out into Marriage and Bonds Department corridor. He was not expecting the vision in white that was standing there, waiting for him.

Her usually frizzy mane was tamed into soft, cascading ringlets down her back. Light touches of makeup highlighted her brilliant eyes and full pink lips. His eyes continued to trail down, barely noticing the diamond and aquamarine wreath necklace around her neck, over her alluring curves, her shapely legs, all the way down to the pale blue high-heels she wore. A sublime vision indeed.

Severus could barely breath. "There are no adequate words to describe your beauty, Hermione," he managed to say, causing her to blush.

"Thank you, Severus. You look very handsome as well." He didn't believe her, but she was telling the truth. Once he left Hogwarts for good and entered the muggle business world, Snape was finally able to get a decent wardrobe of suits. Today, he was sporting his very best charcoal Armani, with a simple white dress shirt, and a multi-blue stripped tie. She knew his favorite color to be blue which was why she had chosen to incorporate subtle hues of it into her own getup.

"I must agree, Professor; you clean up quite well. What a lovely couple you'll make," said Ginny as she planted a kiss on the older man's cheek.

"Shall we?" Harry said, motioning towards the double doors.

Severus and Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded.

I can do this, she kept telling herself. You are marrying your friend. This situation could be ten times worse.

The groom graciously offered the bride his arm and followed the Potters in.

"I have a calming drought with me," he whispered in her ear.

"Feeling a little nervous?" she teased back, giving him a small smile.

Standing before the officiate, their hands clasped together, it suddenly got really real. As if in a haze or on autopilot, they repeated their vows and exchanged wedding rings. The officiate cast the bonding spell, uniting them for life and blessing the marriage with a celestial golden ribbon that wove around their clasped hands then dissipated. That was it—Hermione and Severus were now married.

After a round of hugs and handshakes, and a glass of champagne to toast the union, and a couple pictures were taken, the newlyweds made their way to the international apparation point. Hermione had no idea where they were going on their honeymoon, only that her husband had asked Ginny to pack his bride's trunk. She was sure her friend had taken liberties on packing extra lingerie. Insufferable wench!

Several seconds of the uncomfortable feeling of being sucked through a tiny tube, like Augustus Gloop in Willy Wanka and the Chocolate Factory, they touched down on a secluded sand packed street lined with tropical plants and trees. The evening sun was warm on her skin as she looked around to determine where they were. No such luck.

"Come," Severus said, taking her by the hand. "I hope you won't mind walking a bit." He nodded towards her uncomfortable, though sexy, high-heels.

"Ginny put a cushion charm on them," she replied, falling into step with him.

"This is the main drive. The house is just up ahead at the end."

"Where are we, Severus?"

"Let's wait till we get to the house and see if you can guess," he said with a smile.

Challenge accepted, Hermione's mind was hard at work as they walked, taking in every detail of her surroundings, searching for clues, a giveaway. She gasped when they reached the end of the lain and beheld a magnificent white-washed villa with a red shingled roof—magnificent in that it was not large, but rather perfectly situated against a hill and enclosed by all manner of tropical vegetation. Judging by the architecture she managed to narrow her location down to the Mediterranean but that was all. Not knowing for sure was driving her mad.

Severus opened the front door and led her into a large receiving room beyond the entry way. The sight literally took her breath away. Large pairs of double doors lined the long wall opening to a cozy deck and beyond that, the ocean—the sun setting on its horizon.

"Welcome to my little get-away. Figured out where we are yet?"

"The Mediterranean?"

"Close. The Balearic Sea to be exact."

"Ibiza?"

The wizard smiled and nodded.

The stunned witch took in every, remarkable detail. Everything about the house personified relaxation, from the plush chairs and couches in the living room, the sea breeze caught in the swaying drapes, and the smell of something heavenly cooking on the grill, to Severus, himself, who had already kicked off his shoes and removed his suit coat and tie. Hermione followed his example, draping her blazer next to his on the back of the sofa. She did not see the flash in his eyes when they fell on her better exposed figure.

"Mysty?"

With a little pop, a diminutive elf with pointy ears and large blues eyes wearing a floral apron appeared.

"How can Mysty be of service, Sir?" she squeaked. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Excellent! Mysty, I believe you know of Hermione Granger. I would like to introduce you to Madam Hermione Snape."

It was the first time Hermione had heard her new name said aloud. It would take some getting used to.

"Mysty is so happy Sir has married," the elf said, bouncing with excitement. "Welcome Madam."

Madam—another title that would take some getting used to, and one she didn't particularly approve of. How could she possibly be an advocate for House Elves Civil Rights when she now owned—no, that wasn't the right word—possessed—that one wasn't any better—a house elf? She could see that the she-elf was better treated than Dobby had been by his masters, but she couldn't shake the feeling that having a house elf was still morally wrong, even if she was treated well. Before she could say anything about it to her husband, he said:

"While we are eating dinner, would you please unpack my trunk Mysty? And Hermione's as well? Or would you prefer to sort through it first, dear?" he asked with a smirk knowing full well his bride had no idea what her friend had packed for her.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'll do it myself, thank you." Slightly put out that her now husband had not bothered to mention in all the years they had known each other that he kept a house elf, she swept from the room out to the deck. Severus joined her a moment later.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, taking in her rigid body language and stern expression.

"You never told me you owned a house-elf! Not once in all the years I have known you. Here I thought you were being supportive of my work and it turns out you have been mocking me behind my back! Having one now undermines everything I have set out to accomplish to help them." she exclaimed.

"Now wait a minute, Hermione. Mysty is not one of your abused elves, forced to serve their masters night and day. She is not my slave."

"Then what is she? Does she get paid? Does she take vacations? She deserves more than just a pretty apron to wear. She deserves to have her own life, to live freely, as your equal."

Much to her annoyance, Severus chucked.

"And I thought you were smart. Clearly, you still haven't out grown your childish conviction that all house elves are slaves.

This made her steam even more.

"Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps Mysty approached me for a job? Or that perhaps after being a slave myself for two decades of my life, that the last thing I would want is a slave of my own?"

Hermione had no response.

"I did not think we would start off our honeymoon with this argument," he sighed. "So let me set the record straight right now. Mysty was an elf at Hogwarts. She used to help me brew and after I left, she asked if she might go with me. I knew I would need help developing my business so I agreed, on the condition that she permit me to pay her an employee's salary. Once it was up and running she transitioned to a house elf, taking care of my home since I was too busy to do so. And this is how it has been for the last several years. Did you not notice she doesn't call me Master or you Mistress?"

Hermione bit her lip, unable to meet the wizard's eyes. Insufferable self-righteous bitch!

"I'm sorry, Severus. I should not have jumped to conclusions."

They stood in awkward silence for several minutes, neither really sure how to make a proper topic transition. Fortunately, Mysty popped in to inform them dinner was served.

…

The bedroom was probably the most, spectacularly luxurious bedroom she had ever beheld. In the center was a grand four-poster canopy bed adorned with a fluffy duvet and many soft looking pillows. On either side was a nightstand with a lamp. To her right, a comfortable sitting area with a fireplace and the double draped doors leading to the patio; to her left stood a large wardrobe, her trunk and a door which she guessed led to the washroom. Hermione poked her head in to find a large standing shower, a Jacuzzi tub, double vanities and a private toilet.

Turning back to her trunk, she began to investigate what exactly she had to wear for the duration of this trip: three one-piece swimming suits with plunging necklines, six pairs of sorts and light-weight long sleeved shirts, one cocktail mini-dress, a couple pairs of sandals, a wide brimmed sunhat, basic toiletries, and a lot of lingerie—at least twice as much than she really needed.

"Does she seriously expect me to use all of this?" Hermione asked herself, guessing tonight would be the determining factor of that. She and Severus really hadn't had a chance to talk about what they each expected in terms of intimacy from this relationship. The Law had not stipulated that couples were required to engage in a minimum amount of intercourse, just that they were supposed to produce a child within six months of being married. So as many times as it takes to reach that desired goal I guess. Other couples may be willing to comply with the Ministry of Magic having a say concerning their sexual relations and when said couples would bring children into this world, but Hermione was not one of them.

Almost immediately after becoming engaged, she paid a visit to her doctor and started right away on muggle birth control, hoping that it would not be detectable by magical healers. At some point she would need to tell Severus, since he was subjected to and needed to fulfill the procreation clause of the law, she just needed to figure out the right time. It wasn't that she didn't have any intention of ever having children, she simply wanted some time first to get used to be married and being with her husband.

Her husband, who was sitting out on the patio sipping on a large serving of firewhiskey, giving her time to prepare for what was inevitably to come. Severus wondered if his bride was nervous at all. He certainly would be if he was forced to mate with a man like him. It was some consolation that she had declared to finding him attractive with clothes on; that would no doubt change as soon as he took them off. As for him, thus far he was having no trouble finding Hermione attractive. He was almost ashamed to think of how easily it had been to convert from respected friend to being horny as a teenager and the fact that he was anxiously anticipating being with her.

He intently watched the doors leading to the bedroom, knowing she was behind them and wondering what she must be thinking. The faint sound of drawers opening and closing told him she was unpacking—she was stalling. Severus smirked as he took another gulp of his whiskey. It truly did wonders for calming the nerves, which is perhaps why a moment later, he saw her pad across the living room to the liquor cabinet and pour herself a strong one.

Hermione could feel his dark eyes watching her every move. Even though it looked like he couldn't see her from where he was seated on the deck, she instinctively knew his eyes were roaming her body. It made her blush. She may not have had much experience with men, but she had had enough to know desire when she saw it. The way it excited her had been slightly alarming at first, after all the panicking she had experienced over the last several days.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him rise and enter the bedroom through the patio entrance. Downing her drink in one big gulp, she too returned to the bedroom. Severus was there of course, sitting at the foot of the bed, several of the buttons on his shirt front undone exposing his chiseled chest and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Momentarily, her eyes drifted to the faded brand on his left arm before meeting his eyes—filled with desire, for sure, now that he had the opportunity to see her up close.

There was no helping the involuntary physical response he experienced upon seeing her enter the dimly lit room. Where once she had been wearing a beautiful white dress she now wore an extremely short pale-blue silk robe, tied securely at her waste and showing off her beautifully toned legs. He could only guess what she was, or rather was not, wearing under it.

"I have two favors to ask of you Severus," she said chewing on her lower lip.

He nodded with a very audible gulp.

"One: that we keep the lights low and two: that you promise not to remove the top," she said, untying the robe and letting it pool at her feet.

Severus' eyes grew as big as a planet upon seeing her. Merlin bless Ginny Potter if she had a hand in this. The brunette wore a white bustier-corset and matching knickers with a tiny blue bow on the front. His mouth went dry as he eyed the sliver of skin visible between the hem of her corset and the band of her knickers. He took a final gulp of his whiskey that nearly made him gasp to try and quell the surge of desire that coursed through his body. If simply looking at this woman could stir his blood this way, what would touching her be like? He cleared his throat, still feeling the numb burn from the whiskey.

"I promise," he said. She hadn't made an unreasonable request. It was her first time after all and even though she appeared confident, it was obvious she was still shy. With time, he was sure she would become comfortable with him.

He stood and gingerly approached his bride, ready to claim her as his wife. Her eyes bore straight into his.

"May I kiss you, Hermione?" he whispered.

The witch nodded, realizing for the first time, she truly wanted to know what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to hers. She felt her heart beating rapidly as his face inched closer, the bitter taste of whiskey on his warm breath. The need to taste those lips against hers was stronger than almost any other urge she'd ever felt. All at once instinct took over, and she reached on tip toe for his lips.

Severus felt like he was engulfed in flames as he pressed his lips to hers. His whole body felt hot as he wrapped his arms around her petite form, holding her flush against him. For a moment his brain couldn't decide whether he was more amazed or relieved that Hermione didn't push him away but rather seemed to actually be enjoying the contact. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her body deeper against his, feeling the strength of his desire against her lower abdomen. The kiss deepened.

Without breaking the kiss, he scooped the woman into his arms, depositing her gently in the center of the bed. A moan escaped her as his lips trailed over her jaw and down the pulse point in her throat where he sucked and nipped gently with his teeth. Severus took that as a good sign, as he ran his hands up and down the length of her body, causing her body to burn with building arousal.

"Are you nervous?" he asked looking into her eyes.

Hermione raked her fingers through his hair and cupped his face with her demure hands.

"No, Severus. I am glad it gets to be you. I want this to be with you."

He searched her amber eyes for several long seconds, half tempted to delve into her mind, in search of doubt. To his utter bewilderment he found none—only trust. A new wave of affection swept over him as he contemplated the woman in his arms; his friend; his bride; his wife. She literally was trusting him with her life, body, mind and soul. Never before had anyone bestowed such confidence in him—no one but her. In that moment he realized he would do anything for her, give his life if necessary, to protect the unique treasure that was his.

Tenderly, he pressed his lips to her, telling her without words how precious she was to him. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck once more, pulling him close. And then the kiss turned serious.

…..

Hermione stretched luxuriously beneath the fluffy duvet. Two things were immediately clear to her: she was now a married woman and she was sore in places she'd never been sore before. And, strangely enough, the source of said soreness was no longer in bed with her. She spun the ring around her finger as she remembered the way they had made love and fallen asleep in each other's arms the night before. It had been the single most amazing night of her existence as Severus proved to be an exceptionally passionate, but tender lover.

Tossing back the covers, she took advantage of his absence to shower and get dressed for the day.

Severus woke early as always just before dawn. It was an unusual sensation to wake finding he was not alone in bed. Of course he had not forgotten that he was now married, nor had he forgotten how wonderful an experience it had been to be with her—to hold and touch her body; to taste her lips, her skin; to hear her cry his name as he pleasured her over and over again. But never before had he shared his bed with someone before. Given who it was, he didn't mind in the least.

Gently slipping from under the covers, he dressed in shoes, shorts and a t-shirt, before sneaking out for his customary morning run. He had done a lot of thinking over the last few days, mostly during his morning run when his mind was clear and unencumbered by the day to day stresses. Lately his thoughts tended to dwell on the brunette beauty currently sleeping in his bed, and today was no exception.

It was official now, she was his wife. There was no going back now, not that he wanted to, it's just the commitment he had made to her and she to him suddenly came crashing down on him. Up until this morning it had all felt so surreal. I am a married man! To Hermione Granger no less. What the hell was I thinking! Severus of course was thinking about all the insipid young men clamoring outside her front door—not one worthy one among the lot of them. He was thinking about what her life would become should she marry one of them. And he was thinking about how much he cared for her to let that happen.

Caring and compassionate were words not often used in conjunction when describing Severus Snape. Too many years trapped in a dark and twisted life had left him bitter, critical and downright mean. What could have possibly brought about the magical transformation in the once snarly professor? Aside from being freed of the Dark Lord's constant damning presence; he gave all the credit to his blushing bride. She who was willing to be his friend when no one else would; she who believed in him when the world had turned its back; she who with ever constant caring and compassion had touched his heart and influenced his life for good. He was a better man because of Hermione Granger.

Hermione emerged from the bedroom to find Mysty had set out an assortment of all her breakfast favorites. Filling her plate, she carried it and a cup of tea to the patio to enjoy the morning air. The Daily Prophet arrived and to her relief there was no mention of the two war heroes' private marriage ceremony. No other mail was permitted to be delivered unless it was from Potter. Severus had insisted that they not be bothered by the outside world they had gone so far to escape.

And he, having completed his run was off to one side of the deck doing pull-ups. Because his back was to the door, he did not see her come out nor did he see her drooling over every flex of his bare back muscles. Merlin she loved his shoulders. Over the years his skin had taken on a healthy glow, sometimes even a tan, and now being in his tropical retreat, she guessed it was the culprit for divesting the once sallow skin of Professor Snape. For herself, she preferred the fair and delightsome look, lathering on sunscreen any time she ventured out into the sun to protect it and keeping it looking youthful. The magical world had remarkable Glamour Charms to disguise the imperfections of the flesh, yet Hermione preferred to maintain her muggle habits and only use glamor charms when absolutely necessary.

"Enjoying the view?"

Lost in thought, she had not noticed her husband had completed his exercises. She looked up into his knowingly smiling face—he had caught her red-handed staring at his strong and well sculpted body—resulting in a bright blush that spread from her cheeks to her chest.

"I've told you before, Severus, you are in excellent shape," she replied chewing on her lower lip.

Wiping himself with a towel, he took a seat at the foot of her chaise and helped himself to the grapes on her plate.

"Did you sleep well?"

She nodded. Thanks to you.

It seemed as though they both were thinking about the same thing but neither knew exactly how to broach the subject. It was slightly awkward after all—one day she was his best friend with boundaries; now she was his wife with no boundaries. As he watched her sip her tea, images of her writhing beneath him clouded his mind and he felt his body respond.

"I think I will go for a swim. Care to join me?"

Hermione looked up from her paper, to the clear blue water just meters away, to her husband and finally to her left forearm, covered by the long sleeve. In a tropical habitat in the Mediterranean Sea in the warm Spring months, long sleeves were clearly out of place, but they were all she ever wore. Like Severus she had been branded and she envied that he had no qualms about wearing his mark in the open these days. Muggles always assumed it to be some bad-ass biker tattoo. Her mark was not so easy to play off.

"Maybe some other time then," he said standing.

Her eyes journeyed across his skin, taking in the many scars that were there. Whether he was ashamed of them or not, he felt comfortable showing them to her, knowing she would understand where and why they came from and still not be ashamed of him. She had to trust that he would bestow the same courtesy. Besides, he had seen it a hundred times. He didn't like that she had it but didn't hold it against her.

"I'll go change and meet you on the beach," she said, suddenly feeling bold.

Several minutes later, his dark eyes watched her walk down the beach toward the water, captivated by every sway of her hips, the breeze in her hair, and the teasing smirk on her lips. She knew how she affected him and she was having fun toying with him now that she was at liberty to do so.

For as long as he had known her, any time they were by the water—the Weasley's pond, Potter's pool, the lake or the ocean—Hermione always wore a one piece swimming suit while all the other women about sported skimpy bikini's. He always assumed it was because she was modest and liked her the better for it—showing respect for herself and the men about who would have no doubt gawked at her beauty and gotten themselves in trouble with their wives. In his opinion, it preserved a measure of mystery, making her even more sexy.

She discarded her towel and sandals near his on the shore and waded out to him.

"Miss Weasley has good taste," he said when she reached him.

She blushed at his praise.

Striding a little further away, he dove beneath the surface making his way out to deeper water. Poor Hermione, being not very tall, was already in over her head in water only as deep as his shoulder. Seeing his error, Severus immediately moved to return to shallow water she could stand in. His wife, however, had something else in mind.

"I don't mind," she said, latching on to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. He certainly found this position very agreeable.

Their lips met in a salty kiss that quickly exploded with passion. Buoyancy being the wonderful thing that it is, allowed Severus to support his wife's weight with one hand while using the other to freely roam her delectable derriere with the other. So much for the cold swim idea. Sensing his arousal, Hermione wickedly rotated her hips in a subtle motion, grinding against him. For having only been de-flowered less than twenty-four hours ago, it pleased them both to no end to find that she, as always, was a quick learner.

….

Hand in hand, they strolled up the lain toward the villa following an excursion into town. It had been a short visit with the purpose of, mostly, showing Hermione a bit of the island. But predictably the streets and beaches were overrun with tourists and celebrities on holiday. Albeit enjoyable, the crowded streets had been too much for them and they retreated back to the seclusion of their hideaway.

"I thought perhaps tomorrow we could take the boat out for a joy ride and maybe do a little fishing."

"You have a boat?"

Severus nodded. "Do you not like them?"

"I do like them, I'm just surprised to find you are so muggle, Severus. It's a whole new side of you I have never seen before."

"Well, I am a half-blood after all. And there are just some ingenious things muggles have created that magic folk are too simple to comprehend."

Hermione did not disagree, thinking of Mr Weasley whose life's ambition was to figure out how airplanes stayed up in the sky. If he had any knowledge or understanding of the mechanics involved, it really would not seem all that remarkable.

So they went out on the boat—small yacht was more like it—and toured the coast. Having never been fishing before in her life, Hermione could not contain her excitement at catching one and especially that it was bigger than Severus'.

The next day they rode horses into the hills and had a picnic.

And the next night they went dancing at a popular club at his suggestion even though he disliked the amusement so much. That was beside the point. He knew his wife enjoyed dancing and was willing to suffer the crowded, noisy club if it meant she would have a good time. He, of course, did not dance but sat in close proximity sipping his drink and watching her.

His pupils dilated as he watched her body move suggestively to the beat of the music. Every few seconds her burning amber eyes would meet his and give him a look that read of desire, causing the need to shift in his chair. Miss Weasley had deliberately packed the seductive little dress his wife wore, no doubt with the intention of igniting such hot feelings in him. Well, it worked. Had he not promised her a night out on the town, he would have ravaged her body before leaving the house. That would come later. It not only made him pant like a deranged hormonal teenager, but other men in the club also seemed to notice the sexy chit dancing alone on the dance floor.

Before long, a handsome native was up behind her, bumping and grinding, and running his hands all over her body. Severus seethed in his seat, glaring daggers at the young man moving in sync with his wife. In that moment, something inside him snapped. Never before had he felt such a possessive inclination when he and Hermione were just friends. However, it seemed as soon as he married her, as soon as he claimed her body for himself and him alone, deep rooted jealousy boiled beneath the surface any time another man smiled at her, let alone laid a hand on her.

For her part, Hermione was unfazed by the intense glare she was receiving from her husband. She wasn't trying to make him jealous, per say, she was trying to turn him on—to lure him on to the dance floor with her. When a young man came up and asked if he might dance with her, she happily agreed, hoping that the invader would elicit a response from the brooding wizard. It did not.

"Que el hombre se vea como él quiere matar a usted." (That man looks like he wants to kill you.)

"Tal vez, o tal vez lo que quiere matarte," she replied. (Perhaps. Or maybe he wants to kill you.)

"Es que mi novio?" (Is he your boyfriend?)

"Marido." (Husband)

"Por qué no bailar con usted?" (Why does he not dance with you?)

"Él odia a bailar." (He hates to dance)

"Él es un hombre muy afortunado de tener una bella esposa." (He is a very lucky man to have such a beautiful wife)

"Gracias."

"Y es una suerte que un marido protector." (And you are a lucky woman to have such a protective husband)

"Si," she replied, sending another sultry look at her husband.

She continued to dance with the Spaniard, Ramon, for several mixes. They talked about his work and her work and what had brought them to Ibiza. Before long they were joined by his friend, Caesar, and they all danced together. Severus' glare only intensified. It was amazing the two men did not burst into flames where they stood, an idea she was sure he was considering.

Indeed he was thinking of how simple it would be to curse both young men with just a flick of his wrist. He watched intently as they talked and danced, nearly throttling the second man when he ran his fingers through Hermione's hair and deeply inhaled its scent. Such a privilege should belong to her husband and her husband alone. Rage boiled beneath the surface, like a dormant volcano ready to erupt in furry at any second.

And then she gave them her card. Most likely so they can arrange a secret rendezvous in London. That was the last straw. He practically leapt from his chair and stormed to where she was left standing, after the two gentlemen had kissed her farewell.

"We are leaving now," he said, grabbing her arm in a forceful grip. He didn't say anything else as he claimed their jackets and dragged her from the club.

"Ease up, will you?" she finally exclaimed once they were several blocks away. "You are going to leave bruises."

"I don't appreciate your disrespecting me like that, Hermione," he said angrily.

"What are you talking about? I was dancing. You have seen me dance with other men like that dozens of times."

"This time was different. You are my wife."

"And I am still your wife. Dancing with those guys didn't change that. I'm still going home with you aren't I?"

"Yes, but you didn't have to enjoy their attentions so much."

So he's jealous, she concluded.

"May I remind you that it was your suggestion that we go dancing knowing full well you had no intention of actually dancing? I wouldn't have needed to dance with those men if you had been man enough to dance with your wife."

"Then I would have deprived you of the opportunity to arrange some sort of secret rendezvous with the handsome Spaniards."

By this point they had reached the house, entering and slamming the door behind them.

Hermione scoffed. "For your information I was giving them my card and the web address for your company. Caesar loved my hair and wants to buy your products."

"Right, Caesar was after you for your hair," he sneered, aggressively undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Yes. He is a European super model. And gay, I might add. His buddy Ramon there is Caesar's boyfriend."

"What?!"

Severus was halfway through removing his trousers when he tripped over his trouser leg, crumpling to the wood floor. Hermione simply stood there, her arms crossed her chest, staring at the bewildered idiot on the floor. He stammered to say something but found he had not the words to make up for all the bad things he had been thinking about her or the accusations he made against her.

"Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt, Severus," she said dryly. "I guess this makes us even." And with that she retreated into the washroom to shower and ready for bed.

You need to get a grip on your insecurities, mate and stop being such an arsehole.

He couldn't understand what had happened. Before leaving the villa he had been ready to jump her bones, proudly walking through the streets with the most beautiful woman of all, anticipating getting her home and making sweet love to her. Then out of nowhere he is jealous, possessive and aggressive. He couldn't remember being that way before when he would go out on the town as friends with Hermione. What the hell happened? Was it really his insecurities clouding his judgment?

In part, yes. Their marriage after all was arranged for convenience, wasn't it, to spare them the trial of being matched with someone they would absolutely detest? Was he worried that despite their vows, she would form a relationship with someone later on—someone younger, more attractive, someone nicer—and carry on with him because she felt no real attachment to her husband? That couldn't possibly be the case, he assured himself. Thus far, Hermione had been nothing but honest, open and very trusting with him. And whether or not she returned his growing feelings, she was much too honorable to step out on him and shame their reputations.

Growing feelings? Which feelings exactly were growing? Had marrying his best friend really changed their relationship so much—changed him so much? Perhaps but not as much as he might have thought. Severus Snape had serious trust issues that he carried his entire life. After losing his best friend, the sole person he trusted, he vowed never to trust anyone ever again. Well, that was easier to do than he expected, plunging himself into the underbelly of Lord Voldemort's ranks. No one trusted anyone. Then he took a chance trusting Dumbledore with his life only to realize too late that he was a pawn in the old man's grand plan; betrayed once more by the one person he believed cared for him. And then there was Hermione who befriended him and soon became the sole person he could trust. At least he thought he trusted her. His actions this evening conveyed otherwise.

The washroom door opened and Hermione stepped out, her anger still apparent in her expression. She was deeply offended by Severus' words, in a sense accusing her of being nothing more than a common trollop. What the devil had gotten in to him? He was the one who refused to get up and dance with her, even after every alluring trick she tried. She supposed it was her own fault for assuming he might have changed his old habits now that they were married. Foolishness!

Wrapped in a slightly longer silk robe than the one she had worn on their wedding night, she walked past the wizard without a word and climbed beneath the covers on her side of the bed. Sighing, Severus turned out the lights and did the same. She lay with her back to him, not bothering to speak—what more was there for her to say?—while he lay on his back, his arms tucked behind his head. Instantly he noticed his arms felt empty without his wife in them. Hermione, too, felt the loneliness but was still too angry to cuddle.

"Hermione?"

"What?"

She felt him shift beside her, his arm draping over her as he brought his body into a flush spoon against her back side.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "I don't know what had come over me."

Hermione still lay stiffly in his embrace. "I don't know" was not a sufficient excuse for his behavior this evening.

"I haven't experienced jealousy like this in years and I'm not really sure how to handle it. I guess it just comes down to me being insecure, knowing I am not as young or as attractive as other men, and knowing you have settled for me because you had no choice."

"That's total bollocks, Severus. I did not settle. Have the last few days told you nothing of my regard and attraction to you?"

Severus tightened his embrace.

"If you haven't noticed, I have serious trust issues. I am still having trouble grasping the reality of our situation; convinced I will wake up any day now and find it has been a cruel dream or wake up and find you regret this."

"Do you regret this?"

"Of course not. Even if that law hadn't forced us together, I would have eventually gotten around to asking you out."

"Not likely. You would have talked yourself out of it every time the notion crossed your mind."

True. "Would you have gone out with me if I had asked you?"

"Yes, I would have."

Hermione turned in his arms to face him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. She brought her hand up and cupped his cheek.

"I'm sorry I failed to give you the benefit of the doubt, tonight," he said.

"You can be incredibly thick sometimes, Severus Snape. If you had just gotten up and danced with me, this argument could have been avoided."

"Is that what you were trying to accomplish?"

"You are my husband. I don't want anyone else's hands on me but yours."

With that declaration, he lunged forward pressing his lips firmly to hers. Hermione reciprocated his fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tight against her.

"Apology accepted," she smiled against his mouth before rolling on top of him.

Taking her previous statement as instruction, he let his hands roam her body—her bare legs, her hips and rear, her sides and at last, her lace clad breasts. Tonight the witch sported a deep purple lace negligée and, to his delight, no knickers. All previous assumptions, jealousy, and anger be damned; he was the one who took the prize home and it was his name she cried in ecstasy.

….

"Welcome to Prince Haven," he declared waving a hand at the structure. Wanting his bride to experience the full effect of the property, Severus had apparated them to just beyond the iron gate. Beyond the tree lined lane stood a beautiful brick mansion, built in an 18th century Georgian design.

As they walked, Severus explained the history. Prince Haven had once been a castle, built around the time of the 13th century. Generation after generation of pureblood Princes lived on the estate, proud of their noble heritage. The one to break this legacy was none other than Severus' mother, Eileen Prince, who chose to marry a muggle. As a result, she was cut off from her inheritance and disowned by her family. Two wars against Voldemort later found Severus Snape, the half-blood Prince, the sole surviving heir of the Prince line. Despite his grandparents stipulating in their Will that the family estate was to never be bequeathed to their half-blood grandson, but rather any other pure-blood relative, by war's end, Severus was the last surviving member of his family. Thus the Goblins had no choice but to hand over the property to him.

As a boy he remembered his mother telling him about growing up there with its stone walls, dark and dank rooms, and no semblance of happiness.

The castle itself had fallen into great disrepair after his grandparents died. By the time he got his hands on it, the magic that had been holding it together for all those centuries failed and its walls came crumbling down. So Severus set about rebuilding the home after his own fashion, scourging the estate of the malicious prejudices that had long inhabited it and giving it the name Haven. For at long last, he finally had a home that did not constantly remind him of all the terrible things that had happened in his life.

Hermione noted that it appeared more beautiful and grand than Malfoy Manor, but the house itself was smaller. Perhaps the lack of a dark Lord living on the premises made it appear more inviting.

Opening the large front door, Severus scooped his wife into his arms, causing her to squeak at the sudden change in her position, as he carried her across the threshold. The interior was very welcoming, with its high ceilings, warm color palettes.

"Would you like a tour?"

The witch nodded eagerly. Taking her hand he pointed out the large parlor, his study, the dining room, the kitchen and library. Out back were the pool, orchard and grove. Upstairs were the bedrooms, theirs being at the end of the hall. Hermione half-expected it to be adorned in silvers and greens, seeing as the previous bachelor was a Slytherin enthusiast. Quite the contrary she found, as she stepped into a large master suite colored in creams and blues. His favorite color is blue, she remembered. There was a large mahogany four-poster bed in the center and comfy sitting area by the doors leading to their private balcony. The washroom was similar to that of the Ibiza villa only bigger and with a large walk-in closet. To her surprise, most of her personal clothing items were already hanging in the closet.

"We can bring as many of your personal effects from your house as you please. Mysty informs me that Cleo is very pleased with his new hunting ground."

Hermione had been so caught up in the frenzy of getting married and the subsequent honeymoon that she had forgotten all about her familia. Did that make her a terrible person or what?

"Shouldn't I bring all of my things? This is to be my home now. I suppose I should look into holding an estate auction for the house and furniture." Sadness filled her heart at the thought of having to part with all of her possessions. In the end it was just stuff, but it was her stuff and she had spent a lot of years creating her sanctuary.

"Actually, I was thinking we would keep it as our town home. I know how much you love that house, Hermione, because I love that house. I couldn't ask you to part with it. Who knows, it may come in handy when either of us is swamped with work or we have a fight," he smirked.

Hermione flung her arms around her husband and thanked him with all her heart.

…..

"This place is beautiful, Hermione. It looks like you have settled into your new life quite nicely."

The brunette witched smiled at her friend and led her into the back garden.

"I'm rather surprised myself how easy of a transition it was. Severus has been more than generous through it all but it's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought it would be like visiting distant relatives—welcome in their home but you are still a visitor, you know?"—the red head nodded—"but with Severus, his home literally became my home over night. I was expecting to have to walk on tip-toe for at least a few weeks."

Ginny smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. And everything else?" she asked with a suggesting look.

"Ginny, you can't expect me to tell you my in-bed secrets."

"I don't want the smutty details. I just want to know that he treats you right; makes it enjoyable for you and is respecting your parameters."

"He does. I feel really bad though that I won't let him see me all the way naked. He's been really good about not pressing the issue but I can tell, after three months, he's curious what my deal is."

"So tell him. I'm sure it won't affect the way he feels about you."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, uncertain if what her friend was saying was truth.

"There have been so many times when I have wanted to tell him. I don't like keeping secrets from him. I just don't know if I can. And what's worse if I think I am falling in love with him."

"Well it's about bloody time! You two have been dancing around each other for seven years. Leave it to a marriage law to finally get through to both of you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You, Hermione! You and Severus. Both of you stupidly noble and not wanting to compromise your friendship with the other never bothered to act on the little feelings burrowed deep inside. Harry and I have been waiting to see you get together for years and end this bloody Soap Opera."

"You could have said something sooner," scowled Hermione.

"And miss this beautifully climactic love story? Not in your life," Ginny laughed.

They walked through the grove in silence for several minutes, Hermione reflecting on her relationship with Severus over the years. There was a time when she had actually crushed on the man, but convinced herself that he would not be interested in a younger woman like her. So she settled for having him as a really good friend rather than a lover.

"So how are things going in the Quidditch world?" she asked finally, changing the subject.

It was Ginny's turn to look glum. At least she did for a whole three seconds before launching into a rant.

"Terrible! The whole League in in uproar about the procreation clause. Basically, it comes down to none of the starters can play once they get pregnant—too dangerous. So we have to train up all of the back-ups, who for the most part are fresh out of Hogwarts, to be star level in less than six months. And it's not just the Harpies affected; it's every female in the League which makes up thirty-percent of the players. Next year's season is completely buggered!"

After Ginny left, Hermione retreated to the kitchen to prepare supper for her husband. She was not nearly the culinary master Severus was, but her mother had taught her a few things.

"Smell's delicious," the wizard said, entering the kitchen and removing his tie. He wrapped his arms around his wife, hugging her from behind. Hermione leaned into his embrace, noticing, however, that his stance was different and the way his hands touched her was different—he almost seemed to be cradling her in his arms, especially her lower abdomen. It made her slightly anxious and not in a good way.

"You would tell me if you were with child, wouldn't you?"

She stiffened. It was a question she did not expect to hear. They had yet to even broach the subject of having children and she had yet to tell him that she was basically breaking the law by using Muggle birth control. Having had the conversation countless times in her head, the witch was still not prepared to tell her husband.

"What's brought this about?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Nothing," he replied with a shrug.

Hermione knew the man better. "It's never just nothing," she said. "Come on, tell me."

"Well, Miss Brown came into the shop today and informed me she is to be congratulated, again. Apparently she has been begging Mr Weasley to have another child and this law proved to be a tool to wield in her favor. But it got me thinking that if you were to conceive since we got married, you would probably know about now, right?"

Yes she would. Except she had taken steps to ensure she would not get pregnant so soon after getting married.

"Women in my family have trouble getting pregnant. I suppose I should have told you that before you signed on for a life-long commitment. That's exciting about Lavender, though. Molly must be over the moon to have another grandbaby to spoil."

"Is that your way of saying you're not?"

"I'm not. Were you hoping I was?"

"Kind of. But ours will come in time," he said in an optimistic tone that did not reassure her that he was not disappointed.

"I didn't realize you wanted kids so badly. We've never really talked about it."

By this point, Severus had taken a seat on a bar stool opposite his wife while she chopped vegetables. This was the sort of conversation you had eye to eye.

"I didn't think I did either, but this law doesn't give me much of a choice, does it?"

His words burned Hermione. "So you're saying the only reason you want to have a child is because you are required to by law?"

"Not at all," he hastily replied, trying to appease her before he made her angry by mistake. "It's just I never even thought about having kids until I was suddenly forced with no alternative. I always figured no woman would ever want to settle down with me, let alone have children with me, so I never considered the notion possible."

"And now?"

"I don't think I would mind having kids, so long as they are pretty like their mother and have her whit."

He gave her a sly smile that made her blush. Moving back around her, he held her to his chest, breathing in the sweet aroma of her hair.

"There is no rush, Hermione. I realize the Ministry has us on a strict schedule but I don't have any expectations. The babies will come when they come."

Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief she didn't realize she had been holding.

"Will I get to see you tonight?" he asked, running the back side of his fingers across her breast and down her side.

She gulped. He had just confessed he wanted to have children with her. Revealing her marred body now would ruin the beautiful moment.

"Not tonight," she said apologetically. "I need time and patience, Severus." Hermione turned in his arms to face him. "Please try to understand," she pleaded.

He did understand but that didn't change the fact that it was still disappointing. He wanted to be close to his wife; he cared immensely—dare he say love—for her and her modesty was preventing him from truly being intimate with her; to pleasure her the way he wanted; to feel trusted by her the way he wanted. Severus' love was not conditional, he would enjoy being with her no matter what, but it was becoming harder and harder to control the carnal part of his brain that wished to claim that very last piece of her. Only then would she truly be his.

…

"Come on, Hermione! This is ridiculous. We have been together for five months now."

"You promised me, Severus."

"That was our wedding night when you were a virgin. I wasn't expecting this lock out for the duration of our marriage."

Hermione rolled away from her husband and off the bed, darning her favorite red silk robe—a wedding gift from Ginny.

"What more do you want from me, Severus? I know you have done me the biggest favor in the world by marrying me and I have done everything I can think of to make it as convenient of a transition for you. Can I not have this one thing for myself?"

Severus stood from the bed and darned his own robe.

"What are you talking about? Do you honestly think I consider you an inconvenience? I want you here; I enjoy having you here," he said, waving his arms to indicate their surroundings.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and turned away embarrassed.

"Severus, please try to understand. This is not a reflection on you. I just don't feel comfortable being naked, even when I am alone."

The wizard huffed. "Of course it is a reflection on me. You're basically telling me you don't trust me, even after all this time."

"That's not it at all," she cried, tears now springing to her eyes. How could she make him understand that despite of her feelings for him, she could not bring herself to show him the scar knowing it would change his opinion of her just as it had every other man she had taken a chance in showing it to?

It hurt Snape to see his wife cry, but at the moment his own frustration and anger drove away all empathy. He didn't see anything wrong in his wanting to see his wife in the buff. Merlin knew she had seen him hundreds of times over the course of their several months of marriage and he knew he wasn't much to look at. Her body was infinitely superior to his in every way, even if he hadn't seen all of it, and her insistence at keeping herself covered while they made love and locking the door while she was in the washroom had created an emotional barrier between them that seemed to be getting wider. It was as if she were telling him she did not feel one-hundred percent, completely safe with him. That irked him to no end.

He waited for several moments for any further details, but none came. Hermione just stood there, on the other side of the room, pleading with her eyes for him to understand something he couldn't. Severus let out a frustrated sigh—This conversation is not going to change anything—and began pulling robes from his wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, as he stuffed his clothes into a duffle bag.

"I don't see any point in staying here tonight. I'm going to the town house," he replied, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"But Severus," she pleaded as he pushed past her and left the bedroom. He was down the stairs and in the floo without another word, leaving Hermione standing all alone in the foyer before she could stop him. Should she follow him, she wondered. What good would it do? Whether they fought here or there it would still be the same argument.

Dejected, she climbed the stairs back to their room.

"Why don't you just tell him?" she asked the silence. "Because his opinion of me will change as soon as I do, just like everybody else," she answered herself.

There really was no hope for it.

….

"Madam, there be an Auror downstairs wishing to see you and Sir."

Hermione, who had been rummaging for something in the top drawer of her dresser, froze and looked at the elf in fear.

"Did they say what they wanted?"

"No Madam. Just that it is important."

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. There were any number of things this visit could be about, but she was pretty sure it was about the one thing.

"Please tell him I will be down as soon as I am dressed."

With a slight bow, Mysty disappeared with a pop.

Rushing to the washroom, Hermione removed the IUD from her arm and flushed it down the toilet, using a quick spell to heal the cut. She looked like a mess. Her hair was matted; her eyes were red and puffy from crying all night; and tear tracks were practically burned into her skin. A hot shower helped rejuvenate her features a bit; the rest had to be compensated with glamour's. She dressed and moved down stairs, trying to steal her features as she went so as to not betray her guilty secrets.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm afraid I over slept this morning. How can I help you, Auror?"

"Winston, ma'am. My duty obliges me to escort you to St. Mongo's."

"St. Mongo's? Why?"

"I believe it is for a routine checkup, ma'am, but I was not told the particulars."

Mysty appeared with Hermione's purse and a sandwich in a baggie.

"Thank you, Mysty."

"Shall we?" the Auror said motioning toward the floo. The witch nodded and with a burst of green flames they were gone.

Hermione stepped out into the corridor apprehensively. The waiting room in front of her was filled with equally nervous looking witches and wizards. Winston ushered her forward to check in at the front desk.

"Are you to hold my hand the whole time, Mr. Winston?" she asked in a semi-sarcastic tone.

The Auror shook his head. "Just till you get checked in."

"Name?" said a bored looking receptionist.

"Hermione Granger Snape." For some reason, her name peaked the receptionist's interest.

"Welcome Mrs. Snape. Director Huffington said he would like to see you as soon as you arrive. He's just through there," the girl said indicating a door across the waiting room guarded by two Aurors.

"Madam Snape, please sit," commanded the tall, imposing wizard dressed in official Ministry robes.

She sat.

"Madam Snape, my name is Director Woodruff Huffington, Director of the department of Marriage and Procreation for Magical Families. It is my job to see that every witch and wizard that is subject to Act 79534 keep in compliance with said Act. Now, with that being said, do you know why you are here?"

"Routine check-up according to the Auror who brought me here."

"You are here, Madam Snape, because you have failed to comply with the procreation clause of Act 79534."

"The law states that I must become pregnant within six months following my marriage. I have only been married for five months."

Director Huffington gave her an incredulous look. "I would have expected better cooperation from you Madam Snape, especially as a Ministry employee and war heroine."

"Excuse me."

"The very nature of Act 79534 is very sensitive. People are resistant to comply, protesting and declaring it unconstitutional."

"Well, they would be right. It is unconstitutional. The Ministry has no right whatsoever to force citizens to bring innocent children into this world simply to booster the population."

"I will not debate this issue with you, Madam Snape. I neither have the time nor the patience. My objective in meeting with you is simply to inform you of your obligation. As a war heroine, our people look to you to set an example. And because you married Severus Snape, a distinguished war hero himself, your position within our world is of great interest. You might compare yourself to the Muggle Royal Family, as it were—every movement watched and emulated. Your failure to produce a child has led others to follow your example, claiming that if you don't have to comply neither do they."

"I have every intention of complying with the clause, Director. My husband and I have simply been unsuccessful in getting pregnant," she lied. "Infertility is an issue for my family. It took my parents several years of trying to have me. I imagine the same issue applies to me."

"We shall see Madam Snape. You will have a physical exam and if no such issues are found, you have thirty days to comply. Otherwise you and possibly your husband will be sent to Azkaban." He signed and handed her the parchment—an official notice and warning. "The girl at the desk will arrange your exam."

Hermione stood from her chair and walked back into the busy waiting room without a second glance at Huffington. She certainly didn't envy his job and she certainly didn't respect him as an authority figure. The nerve of him to imply that she was expected to set the example for the whole Wizarding world of Briton set her on edge. She would not be used as a pawn in their game.

And where was Severus? This involved him too. Despite their argument she still needed him with her to hold her hand and tell her that everything would be okay.

"The Healer will see you now, Mrs. Snape."

She looked up from the book she had been reading to the Healer's Assistant standing before her. Finally! It had been a long day of just sitting and waiting, her nerves wreaking havoc on her mind. Looking around, Hermione found that she was alone in the waiting room. As the hours passed, one by one each of the witches and wizards waiting had been called, slowly emptying the room until she was the only one left. Her paranoia was driving her mad.

"I don't see anything wrong; you're healthy and fertile," the Healer said when he had completed his exam.

"My mother had trouble getting pregnant before I was born. Is it possible I could have similar issues?" she asked, knowing full well why she had yet to conceive.

"I don't see any indications of such. Anxiety can often be a cause. The only other thing I can think of that would keep you from conceiving a child is birth control. Have you been using that?"

Hermione shook her head, hoping her eyes wouldn't tell the truth.

"Good. We have been having issues of witches using Muggle birth control. Clever blighters, Muggles. Their contraception is undetectable by magic. Many pure-blood witches have even taken to using it.

"What happens to the women caught using it?"

'I'm not sure. I assume a fine from the Ministry or some sort of reprimand. I see from your form, Huffington has given you thirty-days. I suggest you and Mr Snape try as much as possible during that time. Exercise, eat healthy and don't over exert yourself. "

"Hermione!"

Both the witch and the Healer turned to the door and the wizard that had just burst into the exam room.

"Are you all right? I only just found out you were here," he said wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm fine Harry. Just a routine check-up."

Harry instantly could see the lie in his friend's eyes. Other people may not have been trained on it, but he sure as heck was. He turned to the Healer and asked for a few minutes alone with the witch. The moment the Healer was gone, Hermione broke down against her friend's chest.

"What's the matter love? And where is Snape; why isn't he here with you?"

"We had a fight last night and he stayed at the Town House."

The last thing Harry wanted to do was intrude on the details of married life with his best friend but he couldn't help himself when it came to Hermione.

"What did you fight about; if you don't mind me asking?"

"Severus wants to know why I won't let him see me naked," she sobbed.

Serves me right for asking. "Um, he hasn't seen you naked? But you're married. You do married people stuff right?"

"If by stuff you mean sex, then yes we have sex. But I am always covered."

"But why, Hermione? I thought you love him."

"Oh Harry I do! But I just know that as soon as he sees it everything will change; like it has with every other guy I have ever been with. I can't bear to have him look at me that way."

"But he loves you! I know he loves you. Not like those other toss-pots. Something like this wouldn't change his feelings for you. I'm sure of it."

"Really?" she said dryly and without warning she opened her hospital gown.

The wizard's eyes were immediately drawn to the jagged slash across her chest. He trailed a finger down the uneven surface of her skin.

"Oh Hermione," he said, tears springing to his own eyes. "I didn't realize it was still so bad. Oh Merlin I am sorry."

"This is what I am talking about, Harry," she replied, wrapping her arms around him. "The second he sees it he will react as you just did and pity me; pity my poor body that it had to endure such an ordeal; pity me for having such an ugly scar. And getting pregnant will only make it uglier.

"I don't pity you, Hermione. I blame myself. If I had just listened to you we wouldn't have been caught in the trap and you wouldn't have gotten hurt. It's my fault you can't be intimate with your husband in the way you both want."

"Mr. Snape, there is an Auror Tipson to see you."

Severus looked up from the ledger his was reviewing with little success; his mind was elsewhere this morning.

"Good morning, Sir" the Auror said, shaking hands with Snape. "I'm sorry to interrupt which is no doubt a busy day for you, but I am ordered to take you to St. Mongo's, Sir."

"Why? I am not ill."

"No, Sir, I can see that you are not. I believe it is just a routine physical."

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"No, not really," the Auror replied cheerfully.

"Looks like everything is working fine, Mr. Snape. If you are having trouble conceiving a child together, I would say there must be something wrong with her."

Severus sneered at the Healer. "There is nothing wrong with my wife, thank you," he replied, changing back into his suit.

"I mean no disrespect to you or your wife, Sir. I simply mean to state a fact. The last few months we have seen many hasty and arranged marriages come to pass. Young woman not wishing to have children with their husbands have turned to the Muggles for contraception. It is undetectable to magic and cannot be regulated or monitored as potions can. We only learned about this loophole recently and the Ministry is making it their business to question couples who have been married longer than three months and not yet conceived a child. Do you know if your wife is using birth control?"

"The Ministry should mind their own damn business and leave decent folk alone. And no she is not."

"I agree with you, Mr. Snape. Like you I am a victim of this abominable law. Lesser of two evils I guess. Your wife, I believe is in a room at the end of the corridor."

With that, the Healer made his leave.

Severus snapped to attention. Hermione is here! Why hadn't the man said so sooner? He didn't like to think of her being in this place all alone and probably scared. By the sound of it, the Ministry was going after the woman more than the men; blaming them for not procuring children. If he had to guess, only a small handful of witches married in the last few months had bothered to try using Muggle birth control. The rest were probably in loveless marriage that weren't consummated on a regular basis.

But he didn't want to think about that now. All he could think about was his wife and getting to her as soon as possible. The night alone at the Town House had been an eye-opener. He couldn't sleep without her and once he had allowed his anger to simmer down, the guilt took hold. The bastard in him had made her cry for no reason at all, except his own selfishness.

He walked briskly to the end of the corridor, glancing in room windows until he spotted the familiar bushy brown hair. First instinct was to burst in, take her in his arms, apologize profusely and take her home, vowing to never pester her about it again. However, that plan was interrupted by the fact that there was someone in the room with her already.

With narrowed eyes, Severus watched as Hermione opened her robe to Potter and let the wizard touch her. There was a pained expression on his face, as if he was looking at something he loved but could not have. The younger wizard held the witch to his chest as she sobbed, clutching desperately to him as Severus wanted her to be clutching to him. Something inside began to hurt.

Damn Potters always coming between him and the woman he loves! Turning away from the window, Severus leaned heavily on the opposite wall, clutching his chest. As a teenager he had vowed to never let another girl betray him and break his heart ever again. Anger really was all he had—it was the only true feeling that never let him down; that never betrayed him.

…..

Severus glared daggers at the younger wizard with untamed raven black hair the moment he walked into the shop.

"Good morning, Snape," he greeted cheerfully. "I hope business is going well."

"What do you want, Potter?" the older man asked with a tad more distain in his voice than usual these days. It was rather remarkable how much more chipper he had become after the fall of the Dark Lord, but for the last week and a half, he had felt no such cheeriness.

"I thought we might have a little chat," replied Harry, not losing an ounce of his cheerful attitude. After seeing Hermione in hospital, he thought it best to give her husband a few days to cool his temper before approaching him. "Your office perhaps?"

"Jeanne, watch the store front, will you?" Snape called over his shoulder.

A young girl wearing a shop branded apron appeared from the back room a moment later. She smiled widely upon seeing the great Harry Potter in the shop.

"This way, Potter," Snape ordered.

The office was almost a replica of the office Harry remembered in the dungeons of Hogwarts with the pleasant exception of large windows looking out onto the street. A large dark wood desk sat in the center, covered in papers and files and a picture of Hermione, two chairs in front of the desk and large shelves lining the walls with all manner of labeled vials and jars and books.

The Potions Master took his seat behind his desk, not bothering to offer Potter a seat.

"I'll come directly to the point, Snape," Harry said, turning his attention from a jar filled with eyeballs to the brooding ex-Professor. "I came to apologize for the trouble between you and Hermione."

Well that's unexpected.

"You see," Harry continued in a more serious voice, "It's my fault you and she are fighting. It is my fault she is keeping herself hidden from you the way she is."

"I don't think this matter is any of your business Potter," Snape replied.

"Oh but it is. I saw you at the hospital the other day, and Merlin knows how it must have looked from your point of view."

"Indeed. Does Miss Weasley know you are carrying on with my wife?"

Harry chuckled. "Ginny said you would see it that way. And she has been Mrs. Potter for some time. As I recall you were present at the wedding. Anyway, Hermione and I are not carrying on together, as you so eloquently put it, behind the backs of our spouses."

This little declaration did little to appease Snape's internal burning rage.

"Let me tell you a story," Harry continued. "About ten years ago there was this dunderhead Gryffindor who had, at the time for an unknown reason, a connection to Lord Voldemort's mind. He failed to listen to his best friend to put forth the effort to learn Occlumency. Mostly because said Gryffindor was forced to learn it from Hogwart's git potion's professor but also because this Gryffindor thought this connection might be useful. He had already used it once to save the life of one Arthur Weasley from Nagini.

"Well, what ultimately happened, is this dunderhead Gryffindor was led into a trap at the Ministry of Magic that resulted in the death of the Gryffindor's godfather, Sirius Black, and the very near death of his best friend, Hermione Granger."

"Hermione was struck by a brutal curse that sliced her chest open. It is a miracle she didn't die. As a result, however, she was forever…."

"Scarred," Snape said dryly.

Harry nodded. "That day in hospital, she was showing me her scar, Snape. It's not pretty and has been a source of much pain and insecurity for her these last few years."

"But why should it be?" Snape exclaimed. "I know she has it. I've known about it for a long while now."

"How? You didn't take liberties while she was sleeping or something did you?"

"Of course not, Potter. I gave her my word I wouldn't. About a month after we were married she shifted in her sleep causing her top to ride up."

"And you said nothing to her about it?"

"Why should I? I wanted her to trust me with her secret in her own time; not force it out of her. Unfortunately, I let my temper get the better of me. I have a million scars. That doesn't stop me from taking off my shirt around her. I trust her with them. I don't understand why she won't trust me with hers? It hasn't changed the way I feel about her!"

"Do you know that in the last ten years, Hermione has had eleven boyfriends?"

"Are you implying that she has other options, better than me, Potter?" Snape bristled.

"Not at all. Of those eleven boyfriends, seven of them, including Ron, dumped her because they couldn't handle her ambition and passion for her education and career. The other four couldn't handle her scar. It seemed that as soon as they found out about it, they became obsessed with it—always touching it or dropping slight references to it. One guy even had the gall to tell her to her face that he liked her a lot, he just couldn't be attracted to her with that scar."

"Why are you telling me this, Potter? Clearly those tossers weren't worth her time anyway?"

"You of all people should understand the toll rejection can take on a person, Snape. And you only had one. Hermione has had eleven men, in essence, tell her that she is either unattractive because of her brains or because of her scar. If they can handle one, they can't handle the other. How would that make you feel!" Harry shouted.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as his contemplated his former pupils words. Lily had been his best friend and when she rejected him for his own idiocy, it had crippled him emotionally for life. He never allowed himself to get close to anyone, trust anyone, let alone be intimate with anyone. Until Hermione came along.

"So, after a while she gave up on relationships. Most of her friends went off and got married, started careers of their own, and Hermione immersed herself in her work.

"Then this law gets passed and she has to get married. Before you showed up on her doorstep that day she had been weeping about how this law is the nail in the coffin—the only way a man would ever want to marry her is because they have to. You didn't do a very good job helping her self-esteem by reaffirming that with your whole marriage of convenience idea."

"So it's my fault she hasn't trusted me with this?" Snape asked bitterly.

"Not entirely. She could see the logic in it. You were good friends. She knew you wouldn't hold her career against her because you are the one person she has who can keep up with her. I try but eventually my brain starts to hurt when she starts spouting all that legal jargon.

"Which is where the ex-boyfriends come in. Experience taught her that if they could handle one defect, they couldn't handle the other. So, to protect herself, Hermione simply decided she wouldn't show you the scar, and hope that it wouldn't become an issue. Slytherin survival tactics, right?

"She didn't count on falling in love with you or you with her so soon and create an issue in the level of intimacy you share. I think she has been hoping to find a way to get rid of it. Then you throw a fit and walk away like every single boyfriend did. The only problem is, she is married to you and doesn't know how to move on from this rejection."

That last little bit metaphorically knocked Severus Snape out of his plush leather chair. He hadn't rejected Hermione; he just got mad and jealous and not talked to her or seen her for nearly two weeks. Wanker! As for that other little bit, he and Hermione had never used the "L" word with each other. They possessed a mutual understanding of great affection and attraction for the other, but love? It was such a big word. He was sure he felt it for her; he just never got up the courage to tell her. Bravery was not a common attribute in Slytherins. Ironically, he could face a Dark Lord without even flinching, but telling his wife that he loved her, absolutely terrified him.

"Why is it that whenever I make a blunder of my relationship with Hermione, it is the Potter's who come to the rescue?"

"Hermione is family and as a result that includes you too, perish the thought. This is what families do for each other."

The idea of being family to any Potter revolted him to the core. Yet maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Severus could actually tolerate Potter Jr. once he realized he wasn't a prick like his father had been.

"I've buggerd everything up, haven't I?" he said at last, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Harry shook his head. "No, this is my fault. If I had listened to her and not been so damned Gryffindor impulsive, we would not have gone to the Ministry, she would not have been hurt, she wouldn't have a scar, and she wouldn't be afraid to be naked with you."

"Stop giving yourself so much credit, Potter."

"You are welcome to take all the credit if you want Snape, but that would require you to admit to being a dunderhead and some serious groveling. I don't see that happening, so I'll take the blame so you two can forget this whole thing ever happened and move on with your lives."

"Watch the cheek."

Harry smirked at the man. "Oh! And P.S, Hermione is on a bit of a deadline to get pregnant or they will throw her in Azkaban for violating the procreation clause of the law."

"Why do you think I was at the hospital that day? I had to have a physical too."

"So your solution was to put her in greater danger by avoiding her for a week?"

Severus had had enough of this conversation. The wheels in his head had begun spinning and he needed to get to work.

"No," he said standing from his desk abruptly; "My solution is to do research."

Before Harry could say anything, the man was out the door. "Research? You're supposed to go home and grovel for forgiveness from your wife!" Harry hollered after him, but Snape was already gone.

…

"Is there something Binny can help Sirs find?"

The exhausted potions master looked up from the large tome he was failing to read at being addressed by someone with a high squeaky voice. Up was clearly the wrong direction since it was in fact a short library house elf standing beside his chair.

After leaving Potter at his office, Severus rushed to the largest magical medical library in England at St. Mongos, determined to find a solution to his dear wife's woes. For three days, he did not rest until he perused every last reference in the vast library to healing magical wounds, burns and scars. To his great frustration it was disappointingly clear that there was no spell or salve that could vanish Hermione's scar. The darker the curse used, the harder it was to heal the wound. In her case that was bloody true considering had he not arrived to assist Madam Pomphry when he did, the insufferable know-it-all, the Princess of Gryffindor, the brains of the Golden Trio would not have lived to become his wife. At the time, the idea of Hermione Granger dying didn't bother him as much as it did at present—regrettable of course to lose such a brilliant student, but not the end of the world. That was before he had become friends with her and now fallen in love with her. Severus Snape simply could not imagine his world without the petite chit in his life and the last several days had been, turns out, completely self-induced torture.

"Tea, and a firewhiskey chaser," he replied to the elf.

The elf disappeared with an echoing pop then returned a few minutes later with the wizard's request.

"Sirs be looking to heal something?" he asked.

Severus nodded and took a large swig of the firewhiskey. "My wife. Perhaps you have heard of her, Hermione Granger?"

The little elf's ears perked up. "Yes Sirs. All elves know of the great witch Hermione Granger. She is friend to all elves like the great Harry Potter."

The wizard still could not help the habitual sneer that crossed his face at the elf's reference to Potter as a great wizard.

"Can Binny help Miss Granger?" the elf pleaded.

Severus sighed. "I don't know, Binny. I was hoping I could help her myself but it looks like there really is nothing to be done."

"Binny knows lots of healing magics, Sirs, not kept in books."

"Come again?"

"Long time ago, wizards and witches set forth decree that elves were not to use their magic to harms any witch or wizard. Then they bond elves as slaves when they could not defend themselves. So elves used magic to help wizards, healing master's children and sometimes masters when they gets hurt." The elf stepped closer to Snape's chair and motioned for him to bring his head closer. "Elf healing magic is stronger than greatest wizard healers in hospital. But wizards won't let elves do any healing," Binny whispered.

"I had no idea," Severus replied as he returned to sitting upright in his chair. The thinking gears in his brain were beginning to turn rapidly in his head.

"Miss Granger's work in Ministry to help elves is important. She will help elves become equal and no longer degraded by wizards," said Binny, standing proudly at his full height of less than a meter.

The dark haired wizard had to smile. Hermione really is an amazing woman.

"Binny, Hermione was struck by a dark curse about ten years ago that nearly killer her. We were able to save her but she has this really ugly scar across her chest as a result of it. Could elf magic heal it, make it go away, or at least make if fade?"

"Of course Sirs. Binny will show you."

Hopping up onto the chair beside the wizard, the elf motioned for Severus to hold out his right arm. Rolling up the sleeve, he did so, revealing a few slash and burn scars. Binny placed his little hands over the scars and channeled his magic. A moment later, Severus examined his arm, amazed that the scars he had carried for twenty or more years were gone.

"Healing magic is stronger if elf is bonded to wizard Sirs, but any elf can do little healing magics on any wizard or witch that asks for it."

"This is brilliant, Binny! Thank you!" Severus exclaimed, enthusiastically shaking the elf's hand. Gathering up his cloak, he bolted out of the library. He was ready to be at home with his wife.

…

In the sitting area of their bedroom, she sat in one of wingback chairs twirling her wand between her fingers; the large tome in her lap long forgotten as she seethed in righteous anger. The clock on the mantel chimed 10-o-clock. Another day gone that he had not come home. Her eyes roamed about the room from the mantel, to the door, to their bed, to the wand in her hand. How did it come to this? she wondered. "I should have just gone to America," she said aloud before sending a curse at the vase of fresh flowers on the nearby table, causing it to burst into a million pieces.

"Hermione?!"

Hermione stood from her chair when she heard her name called by that all too familiar baritone voice quickly followed by his hurried footsteps on the stairs. The door swung open revealing her panting husband.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Hearing something crash the moment he entered the house, he thought some calamity had befallen her. He was only just able to duck the hex she sent at him the moment he stepped into their bedroom.

She fired a few more curses and hexes in quick succession at him before he was able to disarm her of her wand. Severus did not expect her next move to be to charge him and begin beating him on the chest with her tiny ineffectual fists.

"How dare you do this to me!" she yelled. "You were supposed to be different! You were supposed to be different!"

He stood complacent and took the beating, knowing he deserved it and more for having behaved like a selfish prick.

"You. Were. Suppose. To. Be. Different!" she said, enunciating each word with a fist to his barreled chest.

Before long, his wife's angry pounding fists evolved into heavy sobs against his chest. Tossing his and her wands onto the bed, he wrapped his arms around her petite shoulders and held her to his chest. A great ache thumped in his chest as he tried to soothe her cries and it had nothing to do with the bruises he was sure to have. Severus Snape had wounded his wife deeply and the guilt was almost more than he could bear.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered repeatedly, stroking her hair.

They stood there for several long minutes, the repentant husband holding his emotionally distraught wife. From the quick glimpse he caught of her when he entered the room, she looked as exhausted as he felt. There were dark circles under her puffy red eyes indicating that she had been spending a lot more time crying than sleeping the last few days. It was obvious that his neglect of her coupled with the stress of needing to get pregnant or go to Azkaban had left her feeling raw.

As he cradled her in his arms, the full magnitude of his exhaustion came crashing down on him. Being angry was exhausting. Being sad was exhausting. Not sleeping well for ten days was exhausting.

Mustering what little strength he had, he lifted his silently weeping wife into his arms and laid her on the bed, removing his coat and shoes before joining her. Nestling into his side, it was only seconds before they were both fast asleep; relieved at last to be in each other's arms once more.

Hermione snuggled her face deeper into the pillow beneath her. It was an unusually hard pillow, but she didn't care; it smelled like him—a rich aroma of his spicy cologne mixed with the scent of a potions laboratory. She loved that smell just as she loved the man it belonged to.

It had only taken her one night—that first night—of sleeping without Severus to make her realize how accustomed she had become to having his body pressed securely against hers, cradling her, every night. As the new dawn burst through the curtains, alerting her to the harsh reality of another night gone without him, Hermione couldn't help but groan, squeezing her eyes shut, and willing that her dream could last just a bit longer—the dream that her husband was sleeping by her side. A soft sob escaped her as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Oh Severus," she wept. "Why won't you come home?"

Before this point, Hermione had not been aware of the strong arms cradling her as she slept. She had dreamt of Severus doing just that so many times during their separation that the comfort she perceived to be imaginary only increased her sorrows. That was, of course, until she felt the embrace tighten and a distinct voice, she knew to be his, say "I am here, my love, and I will never leave you again."

Both amber eyes shot wide open at the sudden realization that she was, indeed, not alone in her bed and the hard surface she had perceived to be a rather uncomfortable pillow that would need replacing as soon as possible, was in fact, the toned t-shirt clad chest of her husband.

"You're here!" she exclaimed, sitting up quickly.

He nodded.

"Why have you stayed away so long? I mean, I could be wrong but staying away for ten days over a little thing like not being able to see my bare chest is a tad over reacting, don't you think?"

Severus could see the same furry he had seen in her eyes the night before, burning in his wife's beautiful eyes this morning. Her facial expression was relaxed, relieved, and even slightly excited to see him, but in her eyes he could read her demanding an explanation and it had better be good.

"I let my temper get the best of me," he replied, the remorse for his actions rippling from his face down to his toes. "And then I saw you with Potter at the hospital and made a gross assumption."

"What assumption?"

"I was called in for my own physical exam. The Healer told me that you were also having yours in the same wing, so as soon as they finished with me, I rushed down to see you with the intent of apologizing for my idiocy. But when I got there, I saw Potter and he was…touching you." The subject was still a bit of a sore spot for Snape, even if he now understood what had actually taken place. He simply didn't like the idea of another man seeing, let alone touching, his wife in such a state of undress.

His sad eyes met hers and he watched as clarity dawned on her face; her mouth forming a silent "oh."

"He's like my brother, Sev," she rushed to say, assuring him of her fidelity. "He was the only family I had until I married you."

"I know that now," replied he, putting an arm around his wife and pulling her close. "I felt so bad for all the mean and selfish things I had said to you and wanted to make amends. But seeing him with you, I received a false clarity. I thought the reason you wouldn't show yourself to me was because you saved it for Potter. I thought the only reason you married me was because you had to marry someone, but he was the one who possessed your true affections. I convinced myself that everything between us was all a lie. I'll tell you, Hermione, it damn near broke my heart and I never thought that would ever happen again."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly. "I should have just told you from the beginning and none of this would have happened."

More tears began to roll off her cheeks and dampen her husband's shirt.

"No, my love," he said, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. I let my memories of James wooing Lily away from me cloud my reason when it came to my wife and her best friend—who happens to be the son of my boyhood nemesis. The irony is rather comical."

Hermione chuckled and gave him a watery smile.

"I wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn't know how. Harry has been with me through it all and I hoped he would know what I should do. He told be just to be patient; he would think of something."

"He did," Severus replied. In response to her quizzical look, he proceeded to tell her about his meeting with Potter a few days before and all that he had explained to him.

The brunette blushed as she listed, embarrassed that her Gryffindor courage had failed her when she needed it most to confide in her husband and friend.

"So if you talked to Harry a few days ago, why didn't you come directly home then?"

"I went to the hospital library. I wanted to see if I could find some way to magically remove the scar—perhaps a spell or ointment not commonly known. I'm sorry to say, the books have failed us."

Hermione's hopeful expression immediately fell. Such news was hardly a surprise, really, since she had scoured hundreds of books in search of the same thing. Still, she had hoped that just maybe, the brilliant wizard she was married to might have found something she had missed. The cold hard truth ached deep in her chest—there really was nothing to be done.

Now that everything had been laid bare, she didn't see the point in hiding it from him anymore.

Leaning away from him, Hermione lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her bra and abdomen and a hideous jagged scar, etched in her skin from her left arm pit to her belly button. Severus' finger traced the angry mark, deep purple and bubbly like cooling lava rock. It truly looked out of place against her otherwise unblemished porcelain skin. It was more vile than he remembered or imagined; making it obvious as to why she kept it hidden from the world and from him.

His eyes roamed from the scar, up her long neck, back up to her eyes. She was waiting for him; waiting to see his reaction—rejection, abhorrence, acceptance. Severus knew after his conversation with Potter that his feelings would remain unchanged towards the woman in his arms—she was still as beautiful as ever, inside and out—but it made him sad that she had to carry such a scar and the heartbreaking memories associated with it. Which is why, in that moment, he could barely contain his excitement of his news.

"I wasn't finished, love," he said, when her sobs subsided. "I said the books failed us, but I think I may have found a cure."

"Don't tease me, Severus," she hiccupped.

"I'm not. Turns out there are special healing magics that have been lost to the ages. All knowledge of them has been torn from the pages of history and the only way to access them is to go to the source directly."

Hermione was confused. If the magic was lost hundreds, possibly thousands, of years ago, how would it be possible to go to the source? She knew they both knew it was impossible to travel back in time more than a few hours.

"Mysty," he called with a sly smile. Immediately the little elf appeared by their bedside.

"Sir is home!" she squeaked. "Sir has lots to answer for making Madam so upset."

"Indeed, I do. Would you mind joining us up here?" he asked, patting the bed near their feet.

Mysty squeaked again, and with a pop reappeared at the foot of the bed, now eye level with her masters. Madam was looking at Sir as if he had just confirmed the existence of nargles.

"Mysty," Snape said with a smile; "I met a charming elf yesterday named Binny. He told me about the elf healing magic and I wondered if you wouldn't mind using it on Hermione."

The little elf's brilliant blue eyes grew wide as saucers and her ears perked up. "Of course Mysty will help," she said eagerly.

Severus took Hermione's hand and stretched out her left arm for Mysty to see; the hateful word "Mudblood," though faded, was still visible on her skin. "Let's start with this one."

Mysty stepped forward and placed her tiny hands on the witches arm, covering the scar. She looked anxiously from the arm to Sir and his confident gaze to Madam; her eyes were so hopeful. The little elf squared her shoulders, honored by the great level of trust her loving employers were placing in her. Closing her eyes, she channeled her inner magic toward her hands, drawing out the evil, the hate, and the misery embedded in her Madam's arm.

Surprisingly, there was no pain. Hermione felt her arm grow warm as the elf magic flowed through it, not unlike a heat pad used to relax sore muscles.

The magic faded and Mysty removed her hands revealing the pail, unmarred skin of the witch's forearm. Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. After hiding her arm under glamour spells and long-sleeved shirts for the last seven years, she was at last free and unrestrained by shame.

"And this one, Mysty, if you have the strength for it," the wizard said indicating the angry scar on his wife's torso.

The little elf stepped closer to Hermione who shifted to her other side to make the scar better accessible. Taking a deep breath, Mysty pressed her hands to the witches' abdomen and began to work her magic.

Hermione couldn't bear to watch. The scar on her arm had been healed, sure, but it had not been caused by a dark curse fired by a dark wizard intending to kill her. She did not want to get her hopes up too high and risk being disappointed if the mark remained. To have it disappear completely just sounded too good to be true.

Severus watched the mousey house elf intently—her brow wrinkled in hard concentration—the nature of this scar requiring a great deal more magic. It was perhaps fortunate for Dolahov that he died during the final battle because if the cretin were still alive, Severus would have gladly tortured the former fellow death eater into madness for all the emotional pain caused his wife.

After several tense minutes, Mysty removed her hands, smiling brightly at Sir who returned the smile as he gently traced his finger along his wife's skin. Hermione, however, still had her face turned to the wall; too afraid to look.

"Severus?" she whispered.

Cupping her still damp face, he kissed her sweetly. "I want you to know that with or without the scar I still love you and will love you until my last breath." Hermione wept onto his shoulder thinking that was his way of telling her the elf magic had not worked.

The wizard untangled his wife's hand from the bed sheets she had been gripping for dear life during the whole ordeal and gently guided her fingers across her skin.

Wait a tick—Nothing! Could it be possible? She wondered.

Again, her fingers traced the memorized path of the scar, except the scar was no longer there. All she felt was smooth skin. Chancing a glance, tears of joy immediately sprang to her eyes as she beheld the smooth white skin of her abdomen, completely unblemished as if the scar had never been there.

"Oh Severus!" she gasped.

Severus wrapped his arms around Hermione's bare torso pulling her into a tight embrace, before pressing his lips to hers in a celebratory kiss. Oh how he had missed those lips!

After a couple of minutes, Hermione broke the embrace with her husband to embrace the little house elf still standing at the foot of the bed watching her employers reconcile with an embarrassed fondness, thanking her profusely.

"Mysty is happy to be of service," the little elf beamed.

All at once Hermione leapt from the bed and began rummaging through her vanity, returning a moment later with something clasped in her hand.

"I want you to have this, Mysty," she said, revealing a silver M shaped pendant on a silver chain and clasping it around the elf's neck. "Both Severus and I cannot thank you enough for what you have given us."

Poor Mysty was absolutely beside herself with a mixture of amazement and joy at receiving such a precious gift—the necklace having belonged to Hermione's mother and for some time being her most valued possession. It was not common for master's to bestow such expensive gifts on house elves let alone family heirlooms, but then again, Severus and Hermione Snape were not her wizarding masters. They were unfailingly kind and generous to all magical creatures deemed inferior by society. Giant crocodile tears filled her tennis ball sized eyes as she cupped the pendant in her little hands.

"M for Mysty," Severus said, patting the elf on the shoulder.

Several minutes and several hugs and tears and "Thank You's" later, Mysty left the room after Sir said something about needing to reconcile properly with his wife, earning him a swat on the arm from his blushing wife.

…

A few weeks later found Hermione in hospital once more for another exam. Aurors had shown up to Prince Haven to escort her and outside her exam room, said Aurors were waiting to arrest her if the healer did not say the magic words. Thankfully, she did not have to endure the anxiety alone this time; Severus stood by her, holding her hand—in a vice like grip, mind—while the Healer waved his wand about casting spells. The puzzled look on his face did little to assure the couple.

"Well it's really too early to tell anything definite, but I am pretty sure I am detecting a miniscule embryo attached to the uterine wall."

"Pretty sure?" Severus said, sharpish. "The fate of our lives is at stake here, and you are pretty sure?"

"Calm down, Mr Snape. Pretty sure means I am ninety-seven percent sure. I won't know for sure for a few more weeks. Little guy has to get a little bigger, you know?"

"So…what? We go to Azkaban for a few weeks until the embryo is big enough?"

"Nonsense! Ninety-seven percent is more than enough evidence for the Ministry. You are safe for the time being. I suggest, Mrs Snape that you begin on pre-natal potions as soon as possible. Congratulations!" the Healer said with a smile before leaving the room.

Hermione was too stunned to speak. She was ninety-seven percent sure pregnant; they were ninety-seven percent sure pregnant. It all felt so surreal. Absently, her hand caressed her abdomen. It would change a lot over the next few months; a lot of things would change.

She imagined herself holding a little bundle in her arms, fare skin with dark curly hair and dark eyes.

"Hermione-love, are you all right?"

The witch turned her vacant expression to her husband, meeting his nervous gaze. The reality of their situation seemed to have unnerved him as well. Smiling brightly, she pulled him down into a tender kiss. "I am just fine," she said.

…

"Apparently, Act 79534 is being amended to allow exceptions."

"Really?"

"Yes. They didn't take into account the havoc it would cause for Quidditch teams. And everyone knows, if you want to keep the riots at bay, don't mess with a wizard's Quidditch team," the wizard laughed.

"Well they are a bit late aren't they?! Half the season is already shot to hell and it's not like I will be getting on a broom any time soon. Wankers!"

Hermione smiled sympathetically at her friend. Like most of the women their age, she had been forced to succumb to the demands of the law and was now just barely starting to show. Giving up her career as a professional Chaser had not gone over well. Many officials, including Director Huffington, had unfortunately received a mysterious blow of the Bat-Boogy Jinx.

"Will any other exceptions be made, Harry?" the brunette asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure. I only know about that one because it has thus far caused the most grief for the Ministry. Protests, vandalism, death threats—the Auror office has been very busy."

"That's just job security, Potter," Snape said as he entered the room with a decanter of firewhiskey for the men, and sparkling juice for the ladies.

"What are we celebrating?" Ginny asked, taking the glass offered her.

Once all of the glasses were distributed, the wizard took a seat beside his wife, placing his free hand on her swollen stomach. A sneaky grin played at his lips and his dark eyes shown with excitement. He looked to his wife who gave him a slight nod.

"We paid a visit to the Healer this morning for a routine exam. He found something?"

"A baby perhaps," Harry teased.

"Watch the cheek, Potter," Severus half-heartily snarled. "As a matter of fact yes, he found a baby."

"Um….I thought that was pretty obvious months ago," Ginny said, not trying to mock her former professor.

The wizard took a sip of his drink. "Another baby."

Ginny's and Harry's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Twins!" they exclaimed in unison.

Hermione smiled and nodded. In an instant her friends were upon her, hugging the very life out of her as they expressed their joy. Harry and Severus shook hands.

"We would be honored if you and Miss Weasley would be their Godparents."

The messy haired wizard laughed and shook his head. The former professor was never going to get used to calling Ginny by her married name. It was rather comical.

"Of course we will. Ginny would have never forgiven you if you hadn't asked."

"Do you know what you are having," they heard the red-haired witch say and turned their attention back to the women.

"One of each," Hermione beamed.

Ginny squealed with delight as she hugged her friend once more.

"I guess things didn't turn out too badly, did they Snape," Harry said quietly as they watched their wives talk excitedly about their respective babies and future play dates and nursery décor.

"I certainly had my doubts when this whole thing got started," the older wizard replied.

"Me too. But I am glad to see you and Hermione so happy. I can't think of two people who deserve it more."

Severus thanked the younger man then stepped over to his wife, putting an arm around her. He never would have guessed eight years ago when he became friends with Hermione Jean Granger that she would one day become his wife and the mother of his children. Nor did he ever expect to have children, a home, or a family. He never expected to be so happy. After a life time of strife, it was a strange sensation to find light filling his soul on a daily basis instead of the dark had so long consumed him.

Hermione placed a tender kiss on his cheek. Like her husband, she never expected to be so happy. What had started as a logistical and political nightmare, for her at least, turned out to be her happily ever after. There were no more sad tears, no more anger, no more doubt and mistrust; no more scars; only joy and fullness. She had her friends; she had her family; she had her husband and her children and her cat Cleo. In Hermione's opinion, life was ideally complete.