This was 'supposed' to be a one-shot, but that clearly didn't happen. So, it's a two-shot ; ) I will post the second part in a day or two. Huge thanks to my betas, Elizabeth K1 and darnedchild (who is also my Harry Potter picker). They were both patient and encouraging but any and all mistakes are all mine.

I own absolutely nothing except for the house-elf name. Elizabeth suggested that I mention the origin of said name, so I will. Peba was the name of one of my imaginary friends when I was a child and I've always wanted to use it for a house-elf. She was loyal and kind, we had many wonderful adventures.

The beginning of this is pretty angsty but have hope (I don't do unhappy endings!).

Enjoy ~Lil~

Part One

After finishing in the bathroom, Hermione walked back into the sitting room to find her husband sipping a glass of Firewhisky and staring at the cold hearth. Following his gaze, she wished he had lit a fire; the tower rooms were surprisingly cold.

She stood, nervously fidgeting, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. She felt slightly ridiculous in her navy blue negligee but this was her wedding night, after all. That meant something to her, though she had no idea what it meant to the brooding wizard on the settee.

Looking up he said, "You're ready then." It was a statement, not a question. He drained his glass and stood. "How do you want to do this?"

"I...I assumed…" she started.

"The bedroom, of course." He walked past her, into the room she'd just exited. "Come on," he ordered.

Exhaling a deep breath, Hermione followed.

Their bedroom was exquisite. The Headmaster's chambers were everything she'd expected and more. The giant four poster bed was carved from ancient-looking mahogany and covered in rich fabrics of green and cream. The rest of the room's furnishings were just as lovely and ornate. Hermione was certain it was all the castle's doing and not her husband's. He simply didn't seem like the kind of man who indulged in finery.

Though she had hoped he might light one as he walked in, there was still no fire in the bedroom either; the room was chilled. He must be used to it, she mused as she watched him standing stock still, staring at the bed. The dungeons are even colder, of course.

Finally, Severus started removing his outer robes. He'd worn formal attire for their simple ceremony at the Ministry, as had she. Once he was undressed down to his black trousers and crisp white shirt, he turned fractionally towards her, looking her over he said, "Are you wearing anything under… that?" He gestured to her garment.

"No," she answered.

"You can leave it on."

"Umm, the dressing gown…"

"Whatever makes you comfortable."

Shaking her head, she removed her outer layer, tossing it onto her trunk that still sat unpacked at the end of the bed.

She hadn't expected any kind of romance or even kindness, necessarily, but his indifference was hurtful; she couldn't deny it. Though she had no delusions about who Severus Snape really was, she had high hopes for their marriage. She believed, if nothing else, that he was a good man, honourable and decent. Hermione had every intention of being a good wife to the man who gave the Wizarding World so much of himself. The Ministry may have forced their hands, but she would do her damnedest to make the most out of a difficult situation.

Besides, she fancied the pants off the irascible wizard.

"Severus..." she said, taking a step toward his rigid figure, she put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

He tensed under her touch. "Get in bed, Hermione. Putting it off won't make it any more pleasant."

She sucked in a gasp of air, causing him to turn to her. For a split second he looked remorseful, then his mask slipped back into place and he was unreadable once again.

Pulling back the duvet, she lay down and covered herself up. Severus walked to the other side of the bed and did the same, before extinguishing all of the candles in the room with his wand.

He was still almost completely dressed. She was confused as to how they would… comply unless he at least removed his trousers.

The room was bathed in darkness, only a thin sliver of light coming through the windows. She felt him move closer, heard a rustle of fabric, then he was on top of her, moving her thighs apart. Feeling him bring his wand close to her centre, she stopped him.

"You can't, Severus. They'll know if you use a charm or I take a potion. I'm on Muggle birth control, for now. I'll have to stop taking it at some point, but…" she trailed off not wanting to consider the 'childbearing' clause in the law at that moment.

He didn't move his wand, just kept it pointed between her legs. She felt it grazing her hair. He was stone still and Hermione wondered how a person could remain so rigidly unmoving whilst propped up on a single forearm.

Since her sight was denied her, and she was too afraid to touch him yet, she took the opportunity to breathe in a lungful of the Essence of Snape. She had smelled him before, of course. When he was teaching he'd often carry the scents of whatever he'd recently brewed, but underneath he smelt of sandalwood and some other exotic fragrance she couldn't place no matter how hard she tried. His scent and the heat radiating off of his body was a heady mix, making her wetter by the second. Gods, why isn't he doing anything?! If he didn't do something soon...

"It's not… it's not for contraception," he finally said, distracting her from her olfactory induced desperation.

"Well then wh…" Oh! "Ahh, that... isn't... necessary." She was embarrassingly wet already; there was no need for any kind of charm.

"Did you already do it?" he asked, sounding confused. Confusion wasn't something she associated with the wizard. It could have been cute if she wasn't so uncomfortable with their conversation.

"N-no. I just don't think…" She had been imagining this moment all day, well, that wasn't entirely true. She'd been imagining it for a fair bit longer than that. Months, possibly. Keep lying to yourself, Granger. Try since sixth year, you hussy! Somehow, that voice sounded suspiciously like Ginevra Potter. "I should be...fine. Ready, that is."

"I see," he hissed.

There was a palpable change in the energy coming off of her new husband. Somehow, Hermione knew he was angry but she had no idea why.

He finally moved, depositing his wand next to her thigh, then she felt his fingers parting her. She couldn't stop the soft sigh that escaped her lips as his fingers traveled through her wetness, spreading it around. He never dipped into her opening or touched her clitoris. He wasn't exploring her, just making the necessary preparation. Then they were gone, replaced by his member. It felt larger than she'd previously had, or perhaps she was just worked up. She didn't quite know. But when he thrust forward it felt absolutely wonderful.

Hermione instantly forgot about the feelings of angst she had just experienced from the man above her and grabbed hold of his shoulders tightly as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He drove into her again and again, filling her in ways she'd never before experienced. His thrusts had very little finesse, however, and she quickly she realised that he had no intention of helping her reach her completion. This was all a means to an end for the man rutting against her. The realisation brought tears to her eyes. Turning her head, she let them come, they were apparently the only release she would be allowed. She had just bound herself to this man for life and he didn't seem to care about her at all.

Thankfully, it was over very quickly. He grunted his release into her neck, never touching her body with his hands; they stayed fisted on the mattress the entire time. He immediately rolled off to her left and Hermione jumped up out of the bed.

The bathroom floor was cool against her bare bottom. She curled up in a tight ball and let herself finish crying. Once she was completely wrung out, she stood and walked to the sink. She washed her face and cleaned his seed from between her thighs. As she scrubbed (harder than was strictly necessary), she decided she would never shed another tear because of her husband again.

o0o0o0o0o

"Well, that sounds bloody awful. But I can't say I'm surprised. What a prick!" Ginny said as she and Hermione had lunch the following Friday.

Thank the gods for Ginny Potter. She could never have talked to the boys about Severus and she knew that Ginny would keep her humiliating secret to herself. It took some creative scheduling, but she had managed to get two hours away from the castle in the middle of the day. Her best girlfriend was more than happy to listen to her sob story over Molly's leftover lasagna and a couple of butter beers.

"What am I going to do, Gin? I have to have sex with him every Friday for the rest of my life. I have to do it again tonight!"

"Lay there and think of England?" the redhead said with a sad smile. Ginny took her hand.

"Listen, I know you've pined after that arsehole for years, but you might just have to accept the fact that he really is as big of a git as everyone says he is."

"He doesn't even speak to me."

"Like I said, arsehole."

"But he did give me a job," Hermione said, looking at her friend pleadingly.

"To give you something to do. That may not have been a kindness."

"I'm not giving up, Gin. This is the rest of my life we're talking about."

"Good luck,luv. Just don't risk your heart on that bastard."

That evening she was in bed waiting when he walked into their chambers, giving him no opportunity to order her into the room. There was only one candle lit and she was wearing nothing but a vest top. The duvet was pulled down to her hips.

Severus entered, stopping in his tracks when he saw her in bed. He tended to work late, so it wasn't unusual for her to be there first, but usually, she was asleep. Or pretending to be.

She saw the look of shock on his face when he noticed her state of undress. "It's Friday," she said.

"Of course," he returned flatly, then started undressing.

Once again he only removed what was necessary, leaving on his trousers and shirt. Getting into bed, he held up his wand, but Hermione reached for his wrist, stopping him.

"Can we leave the candle lit?" she asked.

"Why? I assure you it will not help."

She tried, she really tried not to let his words cut her open, but all of her insecurities seemed to surface at once. He managed to make her feel like an insignificant little first year with only a single sentence.

"Fine," he said, breaking her out of her self-doubt. "But face the other way."

That was fine with her because she knew that she was already going to break her promise to herself, and it had only been a week.

Turning to face the door, she felt him pull her back against his chest. His prick rubbed against her arse as he pulled up her left leg. Then he was there, pushing into her. Again, that first thrust felt lovely. Severus' hand held her belly firmly, drawing her back to him as he moved forward. She shuddered as her body involuntarily reacted to her lover's touch. Warmth pooled in her stomach as he moved within her and she had to bite her lip to stifle a moan.

She simply couldn't understand why she continued to crave him when he offered her absolutely nothing. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he sped up his thrusts as his hand moved to her hip. His warm breath on her skin only added fuel to her fire. And of course, she was, once again, surrounded by his scent. If he would only move his hand a bit lower... If he'd only touch her where she longed to be touched.

He clearly wasn't going to do it. As his thrusts became erratic, Hermione realised he was close. She wanted more. She moved her hand to hold onto his hip, to feel something… anything. As soon as she touched him, he exploded within her, grunting his release, gripping her hip painfully.

A horrible thought invaded her mind seemingly out of nowhere: Lily. Did he not want to look at her because he was thinking about Harry's mum? Oh, gods! What have I done?

He didn't move for almost a full minute, staying half draped over her. Finally, he said, "Did I hurt you? Your...hip?" He smoothed his hand gently over her flesh.

What? "No. I'm… fine."

"Good. If it bruises, I have some salve," he said, his tone cooling significantly as he rolled over onto his back.

"Thank you."

"Goodnight," he said before whispering, "Nox."

"'Night, Severus."

o0o0o0o0o

For some reason, their last coupling felt like a small victory. She told herself that she was being unfair in assuming that he was imagining another woman as they made love. What a horrible thing to think, completely unfair. He did seem to enjoy it, she could work with that. And then he'd actually seemed to care afterwards, at least for a second or two. Definitely something to ponder.

The next day was Saturday, and Hermione was determined to have an actual conversation with her husband. She found him behind his desk, rubbing his temples as he stared at a stack of parchments.

"Anything I can help with?" she asked as she approached.

"Why aren't you in the library?"

"It doesn't open until noon on Saturdays. You know that."

"Right," he looked at her suspiciously, then returned to his work.

She just stood in front of his desk waiting for him to answer her previous question. Once again, he looked up and glared.

"Did you need something?" he asked.

She forced herself not to roll her eyes. "Actually, I was hoping that we could talk."

"I don't think so."

"Severus…"

"What could we possibly have to talk about? Is there something you need in the library? Is that assistant of yours not working out?"

"No, I was thinking of a, ah, personal conversation." She sat across from him.

He huffed and tossed his quill.

Leaning forward, Hermione said, "This is for life, Severus."

"I am aware of that, Madam Snape," he growled.

"If I am so unappealing that you cannot even speak to me, then why…"

"Do not ask your question, witch. You will not like the answer."

She stood. "I think I'll go to the library early."

"Good idea."

Three weeks passed and nothing changed other than one rather eventful sexual encounter that Hermione admitted had nothing to do with her; she was simply a convenient receptacle for her husband's frustrations at that moment.

Hermione worked in the library during the day, grateful that Madam Pince had decided to take a year off to spend on the Continent, and her evenings were spent anxiously awaiting husband's return to their rooms. Thankfully, the Headmaster had an impressive library. Of course, when one has unlimited access to Hogwarts library, everything else pales in comparison. But it was convenient.

When he did return, however, he seemed intent on ignoring her every move. She tried to engage him in conversation; the most she got in return was monosyllabic answers or the occasional grunt.

Fridays were the worst. Hermione tried to tell herself to grin and bear it, that other witches certainly had it worse. But she and Severus existed in near constant tension, hardly speaking to one another.

She ate breakfast in their rooms, alone, of course. If she did eat lunch it was in her office in the library but she always showed up for dinner in the Great Hall, sitting next to her husband, a bright, fake smile painted on her face. The staff had been wonderful since her return. She wished Minerva was there, but her former Head of House had retired a year after the war had ended. It all was too much for the older witch. They still corresponded, but Hermione didn't have the heart to tell her how insufferable Severus had been. She knew that Minerva loved him dearly and had been ecstatic when she found out that they were to be married.

They'd been married for five weeks and she felt desperately alone.

Fridays were the longest day of the week, it seemed, so this time she had decided to lose herself in a long, indulgent bath to pass the time. When she heard him come into their bedroom, she hurried out of the tub and dried off before slipping on her satin dressing gown.

She walked into the room to find her husband sitting on the edge of their bed, untying his boots. Looking up, he seemed taken-aback for some reason. His eyes were unreadable as he stared at her.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, looking down at her gown.

He shook his head and swallowed. "Are you… you've just bathed."

It was strange, and not the first time he'd become tongue-tied in her presence.

"I have."

"Your hair…"

Hermione reached up and realised that she hadn't plaited her hair yet, only dried it before coming into the room. "Yes, sorry. I'll…" She reached for a hair band sitting on her dressing table.

Severus stood and held up a hand. "No. Leave it."

"My… my hair? Won't it get in your face?"

"I, ah, don't mind."

He was acting differently, she hoped that fared well for their upcoming evening.

She nodded and started for the bed, then realised what she was wearing and wondered if that's why he'd been acting so odd. Although, it wasn't that different than her normal Friday night uniform. "Do you want me to put something else on?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter."

Slipping into bed, she moved the lower part of her gown, allowing him to see her, really see her for the first time. She didn't cover up with the duvet. It was a risky move and she knew it. He stood, rooted to the spot for several seconds, just staring at her exposed quim. The look on his face caused her inner muscles to quiver. He seemed, for all intent purposes, absolutely turned on by her partial nakedness. In the full light, she could easily see the spark of arousal in his eyes.

"Are you ready, Severus?" she asked.

He looked up, away from her centre, and nodded.

She held up her wand and extinguished some of the candles, leaving three of them lit as Severus removed his frock coat.

"Will you at least take off your trousers?" she asked.

"Why?"

She sighed and shrugged.

Moving to the opposite side of the bed, Severus complied, tossing his black slacks to the end of the bed before swinging his legs up and lying down. He was wearing black cotton boxer shorts, which didn't surprise Hermione since they shared a laundry basket, but she was more than a little shocked at how much she enjoyed the look of him. After weeks of animosity, she marveled at the fact that he still managed to turn her on.

It certainly wouldn't take much, she thought. Just a simple touch...

As per usual he wasted no time, covering her body with his and nudging her thighs apart. Hermione circled his shoulders with her arms, lightly stroking his back and causing him to look her in the eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked his face mere inches from hers.

"Do you not like it?"

He swallowed and half nodded, half shook his head. "It's fine. I will try be... gentler than last time." His voice was a whisper.

Last time. Well, that had been interesting at the very least. The week prior Severus came to bed angry after having to expel a pair of Slytherin for continued harassment of a second year. Hermione knew the girls: they were horrid. The little twelve-year-old Hufflepuff they'd been tormenting had finally broken down and told Professor Sprout that her near constant injuries were caused by the older girls. Severus had disciplined the girls three times when Horace had utterly failed to administer any appropriate punishment. The incident the Friday prior was the last straw. They had hung the second year from the Astronomy tower, threatening to drop her if she didn't stop reporting them. Thankfully, a Prefect happened upon the group and brought them straight to the Headmaster.

She felt him parting her, then felt his cock breaching her entrance. He thrust forward and she stifled a moan.

Severus had been furious. Storming through their chambers, he tossed his robes on the floor as he grumbled under his breath. Though, at the time Hermione had no idea why, she had to find out the particulars later from Pomona. In that moment she just knew her husband was mad; he wouldn't tell her why. The sex that evening had aggressive and, frankly, amazing. He had ordered Hermione up on her knees in the middle of the bed and taken her from behind. She was literally seconds from an orgasm when he came, shouting curse words and praise to the gods.

Though once again unsatisfied, Hermione at least felt somewhat useful. That evening felt more like intercourse and less like fulfilling a duty. It also made her feel a bit pathetic that she cared so damn much.

With the next thrust she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He found a rhythm and suddenly she felt herself getting wetter, her inner muscles starting to flutter. Remembering the week before had, seemingly, had an effect on her.

Hermione's eyes were closed as she relived the sex from the week before. "Severus," she whispered and he stopped, altogether. Opening her eyes, she found him glaring down at her.

"Don't!" he growled. "Do not do that."

"Wh-what?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I will not be made a fool of." He pulled out, sitting back on his heels. "Roll over."

"I…"

"Do not test me, witch."

"I don't understa…" she started, but was stopped when he roughly grabbed her and tossed her onto her stomach.

"Now you can imagine anything you want," he whispered into her ear. "But don't call out my name when you do not mean it!"

He thrust into Hermione brutally, forcing a pitiful whine out of her. It didn't hurt, so much as frighten her. "Severus! Please!" she whimpered. How had this all gone so wrong, so quickly?

"Almost finished, Hermione. And you won't have to…" His hips snapped against her bottom over and over. "You'll be left alone for another week," he growled as he pumped into her.

She buried her face into her pillow and sobbed as she felt his hips stutter then stop. He didn't make his usual orgasmic grunts and moans. She wasn't even sure that he had reached his climax, but she was more than happy that it was over.

As he rolled off he asked, "Are you okay?"

Hermione stood up, closing her dressing gown. As she smoothed down her tangled hair she tried to calm her anger before speaking. It barely worked. "You don't care! Why in Merlin's name would you ask me if I'm okay?!"

"You are my responsibility, Madam Snape. I would be remiss if something were to happen to you."

With a bitter laugh, Hermione turned and walked toward the bathroom saying, "I seriously doubt that, Master Snape," over her shoulder.

After showering, and discovering that he had not come inside her, Hermione walked out and found the bedroom empty. Great! She moved into the lounge. Severus was sitting in the armchair by the fire, a tumbler of Firewhisky in his hand. The scene reminded her far too much of their wedding night.

"I'll be sleeping on the settee this evening," she told him, then turned to go back into the bedroom to grab a pillow and blanket.

He got up and followed. "Don't be ridiculous," he scolded.

She ignored his cold glare as she gathered her bed things, then stomped past him back out the door.

Once again, he followed.

As she sat down and started arranging the pillow and blanket, she said, "You're insane if you think I'll share your bed after that performance."

"You are a twenty-seven-year-old woman, Hermione. Act like it!"

She stood and slowly walked toward him. The look on her face must have been thunderous because he actually backed away a couple of inches.

"I will not be treated like a two-Sickle whore, Severus! I don't know why you hate me so much, but I'm tired of feeling like this. I will be in that room every Friday by eight pm to fulfill my requirements." She pointed to the opened door she'd just exited. "But there is nothing in our marriage contract that states we must sleep in the same bed every night!" She turned and walked back to the settee. "I'm going to the Potters tomorrow night after I close the library. I'll be staying overnight and will not be back until late Sunday. My assistant can handle things while I'm gone." She lay down and covered up. "Please close the door behind you."

Mumbling something about 'it's always a Potter', he stormed out of the room. He didn't so much close it, as slam it shut.

o0o0o0o0o

The Potters had so many questions, fortunately she was able to assuage them with 'He's not the easiest man to live with. I just needed a break.' When she returned, she went to her small office in the library and Transfigured a straight-backed chair into a cot just large enough to accommodate her, then she sat and wrote a note to her husband.

Headmaster Snape,

I will be sleeping in my office from now on except for our usual Friday meetings. If you could find the time to connect my office Floo to your rooms, I would appreciate it. No one need know about the change in our situation. I will keep my presence to a bare minimum.

Thank you,

Hermione J. Snape

It was overly formal and cold, but that was intentional. He had never treated her any differently, so why should she? Once finished, she Summoned a House-elf.

"Can you deliver this to the Headmaster, please?"

"Peba would be happy to help the Headmaster's wife, miss. Can Peba get you anything at all, miss?" the little elf said, eyes wide and hopeful.

"No, I'm fine."

"Is miss sure she isn't wanting some tea?"

She finally gave in. "Yes, Peba, that would be nice, actually."

The house-elf smiled broadly then disappeared with a pop. It was quite a while before she saw the elf again, which was more than a bit surprising.

"Sorry, miss, but the Headmaster is making Peba wait." She held out a shaking hand and passed Hermione a note then disappeared once again. He must have terrorised the poor thing.

Madam Snape,

The Floos are now connected. However, if one person notices your absence, I will demand your return. And I expect you in our rooms no later than nine pm Friday. I have no time to wait for you as I am trying to run an entire school.

Headmaster Snape

"Bastard!" she exclaimed to the empty office. Unfortunately, the house-elf chose that moment to reappear with her tea. Her outburst scared the small creature half to death. "Oh, sorry, Peba. And thank you for the tea."

o0o0o0o0o

Hermione's week passed like they always did: slowly and painfully. She had known accepting Severus' contract would mean some difficulties for her; she wasn't delusional. But she had never expected him to treat her so cruelly.

At eight pm exactly the following Friday, Hermione Flooed to their rooms wearing a long flannel nightgown (that even her nan wouldn't have been caught dead in), and nothing underneath. There was absolutely no point in attempting to look alluring: he clearly found her repulsive. Okay, perhaps she was being petty, but she was beyond caring.

Severus was waiting. He was also drunk.

Wonderful!

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Been waiting all week for this beautiful moment," he slurred then took another drink, never once looking up at her.

Hermione shifted restlessly from foot to foot as she watched her husband drink. After several minutes she said, "You're pissed, Severus. Take a sobering potion or I'm leaving."

He finally looked up, squinting his eyes. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

"A nightgown."

"Is it Minerva's?"

Damn, he made a joke. Evidently Drunk Snape was funny. "No, of course not." She tried to sound indignant but felt like she had failed miserably.

"Well, take it off. It certainly won't help matters. All that tartan…" He pulled a face. "No one wants to imagine Minerva McGonagall whilst trying to sustain an erection."

Hermione had to force herself not to laugh. Right, back to making sure her husband was sober enough to perform. "Severus…" She walked over and crouched down next to him. "Please take some Sober-Up before we get started."

His face softened as he slowly reached out and cupped her cheek. "It's too hard, Hermione."

Though taken aback by his gentleness and his touch, she managed to ask, "What's too hard?"

He studied her for several moments, softly stroking her face the whole time. Finally, he removed his hand and said, "Having you... yet never really... having you."

His enigmatic answer told her almost nothing. However, his eyes… Oh, gods, why is he looking at me like that? "You have me, Severus. I'm your wife," she said, hoping to get some clarification.

He sneered, his ugly 'oh, what an idiot I've married' sneer. "Wife. An interesting title, isn't it, Hermione? You belong to me. Legally, you are mine. On paper, that is." His hand moved to her chest and for a split second she thought he was going to touch her breast, something he had yet to do. But he didn't. He softly tapped her chest right over her heart. "But this? This will never be mine, will it?"

She gasped.

"See? I can never really have you, wife, because you belong to someone else. The wizard that you imagine every Friday when we make love." He looked away and finished his drink. "I'll be in the bedroom," he said as he rose and stumbled toward the door.

Hermione got up and sat on the sofa, dumbstruck. As she thought back over his behaviour the last few weeks, it started to make sense. That first night he was going to cast a lubrication charm on her but she explained that it wasn't necessary. He must have thought she was imagining some other wizard. The idiot! Well, this was an interesting turn of events. It seemed that it was at least possible that he wanted her; he just assumed that she didn't want him.

Their first encounter had confused her to no end. Why petition for her if he didn't want her? She had asked herself this question a dozen times over the last several weeks. She understood her own motivation for accepting: he had always intrigued her, and if she were honest, she found him sexy as hell. That was why she had accepted him out of the five wizards on her list.

Ronald, first and foremost, would always be firmly in the 'friend zone', as her Muggle friends would say. They couldn't have ever gotten past, well, 'the past'. He had treated her as a sexless walking library throughout their adolescence, then after the war the wizard had pursued her with a vengeance, but she simply wasn't interested. When she dismissed his petition, he was indignant at first, but finally seemed to see reason.

Then there was Charlie. Yes, another Weasley. The law of averages were in their favour, after all. When she finally met him at Harry and Ginny's wedding two years after graduating Hogwarts, oh, my… he was an impressive looking wizard, but she had absolutely nothing in common with him. Dragons? No thank you! She'd had her fill of the beasts during the Grand Escape from Gringotts.

The other two wizards were complete strangers. One was at least ninety years old and the other, though closer to Severus' age, was so uptight he made Percy look like a hippie! He was also French and quite full of himself. So, no.

None of that had mattered, however, the day she received the letter and contract from Severus Snape. He was the wizard she had wanted from the start. If she was going to have to marry someone (ridiculous law!) he was the obvious choice.

They had so much in common. They were both intellectuals, they both loved potions and books and research. And most importantly, he had been the object of her sexual fantasy for many years. Oh, it was all speculative, of course. But he had an air about him: dark and mysterious, intense and deep. In her fantasies Snape was an attentive lover and a bit domineering, not the cold, detached man she discovered on her wedding night.

After their second encounter, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Lily Potter, no matter how many times she told herself it was unfair. It was ironic, now that she thought about it, that they both assumed the other was thinking about someone else. But Lily was Severus' first, and seemingly only, love. Would Hermione ever measure up to an idyllic ghost? She felt wholly inadequate. The man had spent a lifetime trying to right a wrong he had done to the witch. Bitterly, she had imagined that he extinguished the candles, had turned her away so that he could pretend it was Lily to whom he was making love. And even though she tried to put the thought from her mind, it simply wouldn't leave her alone.

He must be feeling much the same.

This new, drunk, version of Severus gave Hermione hope. Now, she just had to make some plans. Those plans did not include having sex with him while he was pissed. She got up and quietly walked into the bedroom. Thankfully, he was passed out cold.

Pausing to study the sleeping wizard, Hermione made a decision. Now that she had an idea as to the cause of his anger towards her, she simply had to make him see how wrong he was. Turning, she exited the room. As she picked up a handful of Floo powder she couldn't help but smile. It almost felt foreign: smiling in her husband's rooms, but she allowed herself this little bit of hope. Upon returning to her cold, empty office she quickly found some parchment and a quill and started to write.

It wasn't as if she could undo the marriage. Wizards married for life. She simply couldn't give up on this small chance of happiness. But she wouldn't compromise either. He was just going to have to meet her halfway.

Okay, that's part one finished. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I promise I won't make you wait for part two. Thanks so much for reading! ~Lil~