Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Palatable

It was another one of these abysmal parties at the Malfoy Manor that had put Snape in such a bad mood. Lucius adored entertaining hundreds at his fancy home, decorated with silks, the tables set with china and crystal. It was the entertainment that he always failed to specify about though, and that was the very reason Severus never went anymore, unless ordered. The few times he did, he made his excuses as soon as possible and escaped that lavish hell hole.

Lucius's favourite entertainment was girls, writhing semi-nude around the room. He called it _dancing_, although it was a far cry from any type of dancing Severus had ever witnessed. As the night drug on, alcohol poured from cut glass bottles, powder came out of pockets, and clothing (both the girls and the guests) came off. None of this was so bad though, he could have frequented those parties if it had not been for one fact that stood stark as the sun rose.

Those writhing girls never went home.

The very first party he ever threw, back during the Dark Lord's first reign, had been, as Lucius put it, 'epic'. Hundreds of guests flowing between the rooms, a full orchestra playing from a raised platform, delectable food and drink, and of course the writhing girls. Yet none of them knew what was going to happen that first time, so they all drank and ate and danced in their tuxedos until they were giddy and asked for a room. As for the writhing girls, Severus only knew their fate because of the terrible hangover he suffered, which had caused him to go down to the kitchen too early for some coffee. There, being 'taken care of' were the bodies of the young, pretty writhing girls, eyes still open from the curse that had hit them before they even knew what was happening. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Severus found himself retching into the bushes, grabbed his coffee, and took refuge in his room. He haven't spent the night nor enjoyed himself with a writhing girl since.

Now, though, he had just escaped from a party and was making his way back to the dungeons of Hogwarts. It was certainly late, perhaps midnight, but not too late for the professors and adults of the castle. There was certainly no reason for him to quite literally run into a _student _at such an hour.

At least he was back in his black cloaks and not in that miserable tuxedo, but it did not help the confrontation. The student ran directly into his chest as they were coming down the stairs, and he had to grab them by the arms so that they did not fall and deface themselves.

_Stupid, clumsy students, walking around in the dark in a castle with moving staircases, trick stairs, and ghosts. You think they would have learned, but no, dumb, thick children. _

"I...I'm sorry, so sorry Professor. I didn't see you, sir..." A girl was stammering over her words, and under no other circumstances would he have recognized her voice except for the fact that this one talked _so much_. The tip of his wand lit, and the girl, wide eyed, was nearly trembling, either from cold or fear or something else, he couldn't tell and didn't care to know.

"Miss Granger, what are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"I'm Head Girl, sir-" he rolled his eyes. For being able to answer any question any teacher threw at her, she was horrible at what most people called 'street smarts'.

"You're Head Girl duties were over at least an hour ago, Miss Granger. You have no excuse for being out of bed, unless there is some horrid emergency in Gryffindor tower. Is that the case?" He knew he had her, and triumph curled the tips of his mouth into the tiniest bit of a smirk. The perfect little Miss Granger had finally gotten caught breaking the rules. Expulsion seemed like a wonderful idea.

"Well sir, um, an 'emergency' of sorts... I was just going to Madam Pomfrey; you needn't concern yourself, really." She was blushing and trying to edge down the hall to the infirmary, but his hand tightened like a vice around her wrist, and she winced.

"What sort of _emergency_ would leave you capable of running to the Hospital Wing at this hour," he sneered. She was probably trying to sneak off the library, or to some Ravenclaw lover in the other tower. He'd thought she was involved with the Weasley boy, but that boy was awfully dim for her.

"Please sir, I really just need to go to Madam Pomfrey..." She tried to pull her wrist free with more force than he thought her capable of, but he held fast.

"Students are not allowed to just go waltzing around the halls at any hours with pretend emergencies just because they have leadership roles, Miss Granger. You do good to remember that. Now, how many points should I take for this little infraction? 50? 100? Yes, 100 is a good number. You should be thankful I'm not dragging you to the headmaster."

Tears were slowly leaking down her face (Merlin, did girls always have to cry about everything?) "Please, Professor, I really, truly, need to see Madam Pomfrey. You don't understand."

"Did you not listen to a word I just said girl? Back up to your tower or else I'll take another 50 points." Gently, she removed her wrist from his grip and wiped her face.

"Sir, I need to go the infirmary to get some...um...feminine hygiene products." The sneer dropped from his face.

_Merlin, Severus, why do you always have to be a bastard at the worst possible moments?_ Sure enough, as she sprinted down the hall, a bright circle of blood stood out on her shorts. He turned and fled to the dungeons, bludgeoning himself the whole way.

_The points, Severus, you really ought to give her back the points. _

Stupid conscience. A wave of his hand restored those sparkling rubies back in their hour-glass as he collapsed onto his bed. Sleep finally claimed him at about two in the morning.

҉

After Hermione got what she needed, she made her way back to her dorm.

_Merlin that was embarrassing._

As if it's not bad enough to wake up to mind numbing cramps in the middle of the night to a period that has gone completely off schedule, she had to run into a professor. And not just any professor, because any other would have let her go and see Madam Pomfrey without an interrogation. But no, of course he would make her wait, embarrassment growing as he made a speech, as she grew desperate to get what she needed. Now though, lying up her in bed, she could cool her cheeks and try and slip off the sleep.

It wasn't really _that_ bad, she thought, and he had been far more embarrassed than she was. As long as everything was normal tomorrow in class, and it would be. And as long as no house points were missing, although she doubted he would withhold them now.

The next thing she knew she was waking up and traipsing down to the Great Hall with Ron and Harry in tow. They both ate too much, although in her opinion they always seemed to eat too much, at every opportunity.

_Why do boys shovel everything possible down their throats, and then surface for more?_

Before mail had even arrived, she went off to the library, promising to meet up in class. Luck of the draw, Potions was first. An unofficial seating order had come about in the first few months, and now everyone knew where to sit. She had pulled Harry and Ron onto the front row, although now she regretted that slightly.

Snape made his appearance and class proceeded as normal. Harry got the worst of his criticism for everything, yet he seemed to hold back a few comments from Hermione. He still didn't call on her every time she raised her hand or speak in a less harsh tone, but he bit back the scathing remarks he normally threw at them. A minute before the clock was about to chime and they were cleaning and packing their bags, he cocked his head at her from behind his desk. She scurried forward, heart pounding.

"Sit, Miss Granger." She plopped down, and he took a long breath before talking. "I wanted to...apologize for my actions last night, and assure you that no house points were missing. That's all."

"Thank you sir." He waved his hand and she went back to Ron and Harry, who had been putting back supplies and hadn't even known she was gone.

At lunch she was surprised to receive a letter. Mail always arrived during breakfast, but then she remembered that she had felt the pull of the books and had left before her owl had even had the chance to arrive. It had the Ministry of Magic stamp on it, so she broke the seal and read.

Dear Miss Granger,

We are pleased to inform you of a new marriage law which went into effect today, November Eleventh. (See Clause 182, Marriage Law, Section 2A) To help increase population all witches and wizards between the ages of seventeen and fifty are being asked to wed and produce at least two children (one within six months of marriage). A list of suitors has been provided for you who live/work near your place of residence. Please take careful consideration before picking a match. Your wedding date has been set as November 29th.

-Mr. Walden Alder, age 23, author

-Mr. Gerlind Heinrich, age 35, broom maker

The list went on and on until she spotted a few familiar names close to the bottom.

-Mr. George Weasley, age 20, self-employed

-Mr. Fred Weasley, age 20, self-employed

-Mr. Severus Snape, age 38, professor

Thank you for your time and consideration. Economic assistance is available (apply within five days of wedding) as asked for.

Have a wonderful day!

Viveca Ull

She wasn't able to seriously consider the letter until all her classes were done for the day, her homework was complete, and she had successfully sealed herself in her bedroom. That was when she allowed herself to freak out, calm down, and think.

Ron hadn't reached his 17th birthday, and wouldn't be by the wedding.

_Curse early birthdays_.

Harry wasn't eligible either, although he was like a brother to her. Still, he was better than the strangers on the list. Although not all of them were strangers.

She knew three people on the list. Fred and George. She buried her head in her pillow for a moment before thinking about it. How could she do that to Ron? Marry one of his brothers after they had been friends and skirted around a relationship for so long? Plus, how was she supposed to pick between them? Would she have to move in with her choice and floo to the school, or would they live together after she graduated? Fred or George certainly didn't seem like a bad choice. But to break up the Weasley family over marrying one of Ron's brothers.

But Snape was the only name left, and under no circumstances would she ever marry him. She looked back at the letter- "Wed and produce at least two children, one within six months of marriage". Merlin, how could she ever do that with any of the people on the list, much less the two she had it narrowed down to? An image crossed her mind of a red headed boy's sweaty body above hers, on their wedding night. A worse image flashed of a panting Snape between her legs, which pulled a shudder down her spine. Neither image was appealing, but at least she knew Fred and George, and at least she was comfortable with them.

Maybe a professor would know what to do. Yes, Professor McGonagall had always known the right thing to do, and she was in the Order.

҉

Snape had received the letter that morning, before breakfast, and had had an expected reaction.

A _marriage law?!_

He slammed the paper onto his desk, cursing the Ministry. How could they try and meddle in his private affairs like this? But of course it was being run by those loyal to the Dark Lord, which explained a lot. Nothing would let him circumvent the law, either, or else it would look like he was being unfaithful to his Master.

"Curse you," he muttered, scanning the names. Women around his age and younger, all strangers.

_They couldn't possible expect me to marry a stranger, not with my personality. _

At the very end of the list was one name he recognized, and he blanched at it.

-Miss Hermione Granger, age 17, student

As if they could expect him to wed and bed a student.

_Merlin, bedding Miss Granger, how awful would that be?_

She was much too young for a man like him, a man whose cohorts were Death Eaters, murderers, and spies, who himself _was_ a spy.

His clock chimed. It was time for the Order meeting, one called to deal with this precise event, no doubt. He went through the floo to that dog's house and sat in the corner, waiting for the meeting to start. Eventually everyone tumbled in, a few idiots even rang the doorbell, but they were finally all seated around the table, Molly Weasley fussing over tea and biscuits.

"Ladies and gentleman, we have a bit of a problem," Albus began.

_What an understatement_.

He went over the details of the law and took questions, yet offered no solution as to how to deal with those affected. As Snape brooded, Albus turned his gaze to him.

"Now Severus, I believe you got a letter in the mail with selections available. Have you made your choice yet?" He produced the letter and passed it to the Headmaster under a watchful audience.

"No, I haven't been able to narrow it down yet." His words were laced with sarcasm as Albus scanned the list, muttering to himself about each name. His eyes brightened considerably at one suggestion.

"Hermione Granger is listed; I believe she would be a suitable match." If he could have breathed fire he would have. Hexing the Headmaster is a good way to get fired, however, so he restrained himself.

"From my point of view, I don't think we'd be a...good match. And I certainly don't want to wed and bed her." The rest of the Order was silent, waiting for Albus's verdict. To add to his rage, he laughed.

"You two would be a wonderful match! You're both intelligent and love books, she plans to be a teacher and you are one. Most importantly, you're both on the same side in this war. You can't just marry a random woman and then have to explain that you're a double agent. And age, Severus, is just a number. Besides, who wouldn't want a pretty young thing to warm their bed after so many years alone?" He stood in indignation that his own wants were being completely overridden.

"Albus, I have no desire whatsoever to marry a _child_, and I am certain she feels the same. You can't possibly expect us to marry, it's preposterous."

"She is no child, Severus, and frankly you have no other choice. Selecting any other woman from this list could endanger the Order and our Cause, which is much too great of a risk to take. Miss Granger will understand." Minerva stood then, coming to the defense of her favourite little Gryffindor.

"Severus is right, Albus, you can't possibly force them into a union like this. Miss Granger is young and has so much of a life ahead of her. Some of the possibilities on her list are much more appropriate- several of the Weasley boys are available, and they would make a very suitable match. We implore you, see reason here." But the set of Albus's eyes could not be persuaded.

"There may be other options on Miss Granger's list, but not on Severus's, and that's the one we're concerned with. There simply is no other option, and Miss Granger will understand that, she's a wise girl. We'll meet with her- Minerva, Severus, and I, when we get back to school."

They got back to the school much too soon, and Snape found himself standing and frowning in the Headmasters office as the sun crept over the horizon. Minerva was seated and wore about the same distasteful expression. Only Albus sat at his desk, a content smile on his face as he continued to try and convince Snape that this would be beneficial for all parties. All about Miss Granger being a young, pretty thing and they would learn how to live together and he was sure that the children would be handsome. The soliloquy stopped when a living, breathing Miss Granger stepped into the room.

It was short and to the point. He stood in the back, glaring down on the scene, Minerva held the girl's hand and whispered assurances, and Albus explained everything in all the details required. In the reflection in the window panes he could see her going from flesh coloured to pale and then paler, clutching Minerva's hand tight and tighter still. As he got to the end of his speech, he gave her a little smile and asked if she had any questions.

"I...I don't want to be rude but...do I have to?" Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she glanced at the professors in the room.

"You are no happier with the proposition than I am, Miss Granger, but the Headmaster has now assured both of us that this is vital."

"But I don't want to marry anyone, at least not at the moment. I want to go to university and get a good job and then maybe get married and all the rest." Severus stepped forward.

"We are at war, Miss Granger, which means that what you _want_ is completely irrelevant at the moment. For the good of all, we are going to get married, and that is that, so please stop griping about it." She frowned at it but stopped talking, trying to prove that she wasn't griping. He sighed. "I have to go get ready for class," and swept out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: THERE'S A LEMON, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. Thank you to everyone who has viewed my story, and especially to you who have favorited/reviewed/followed it. I'm overwhelmed that so many people have even given it the time of day when it's only one chapter, and I really appreciate it. I've gotten views from the United States, United Kingdom, Canada, Germany, France, Australia, Czech Republic, Norway, Argentina, United Arab Emirates, Italy, India, Slovenia, Spain, Poland, Denmark, China, Russian Federation, Ukraine, Brazil, Mexico, the Netherlands, Austria, Virgin Islands, Ireland, Malaysia, Lithuania, Peru, Hungary, Costa Rica, Iceland, Sweden, Bulgaria, Uruguay, and Switzerland. Thank you to each and every one of you, and to the people in Russia and Ukraine, I hope this is a little bright spot amidst the turmoil. Also a shout out to Sweden (I'm part Swedish) and Norway (thanks for Frozen). Now I've rambled enough, so read and enjoy. 3 **

**-Dreama **

"You're going to _marry_ Professor _Snape_?" Ginny questioned in astonishment. Hermione had put off telling her friends, but a week from when she got the letter; she'd finally cracked and mentioned it, as casually as possible. They were all up in the Common Room on a Saturday night, so there wasn't a lot of homework to do and nobody was too cranky, so she's taken advantage of that and gotten her friends together. Harry and Ron had been livid, shouting about horrible Professor Snape was, how horrible the law was, how horrible this and that was, until Ginny had slipped a calming draught into their drinks. That had sent them up to bed, and now she had to deal with Ginny.

"It's for the good of the Order," had been her explanation all night, but Ginny didn't want an explanation, she wanted to talk about the actual impending marriage. Where was she going to live, was she still going to have classes as usual, what was she going to wear for the ceremony, and had she ever had sex before?

The last question left her wide-eyed, staring at Ginny, who could only blush and grin. She had never thought that far about the marriage, only that is was necessary, that they would probably have to live together for at least awhile, and she had planned her arguments for things he wasn't keen on her doing. But the _sex_ part she hadn't thought about.

_I'm going to have to sleep with him. I'm going to have his children._

She shuddered lightly at the thought of what intercourse with him may be like, but she had nothing to compare it too.

_Oh Merlin, he'll...he'll be my first._

A sudden urge to cry welled up in her throat, and she wished that she'd had someone whom she'd deeply loved to have that type of relationship with. Then they could have gotten married and there would have been no question about her being pulling into this. While she certainly loved Harry and Ron, Harry was like a brother to her and Ron...well, things were clear as mud with him. Certainly not clear enough to contemplate sleeping with him. And now that he knew about the impending marriage, it seemed unfair to jump into bed with him just to avoid Snape.

҉

Weeks passed and nothing happened. Classes continued and the drudgery remained just as it was before that awful day when his world had tipped on its head. The only difference was that he knew what was coming and he wasn't happy about it. He had never wanted to get married, not since Lily, and now that he was being forced into it, he felt disrespectful of her and her memory.

_At least she doesn't have red hair. _

That would be awful, if she had red hair and he accidently called her the wrong name, either in bed or just out and about. Sometimes when he saw Ginny Weasley from behind he found himself back in a schoolboy's mind and almost had the urge to call after her to wait up, he wanted to walk with her. But of course it wasn't Lily and he wasn't schoolboy, which he had to remind himself sometimes.

Then, oh so suddenly, it was the Friday before the wedding, and his last Potions class held Miss Granger and her horrid little group of friends. She sat silent the entire class period, never talking nor answering any questions, although sometimes no one raised their hands. He would wait, thinking maybe she was just formulating the perfect answer, but she never would. The class was awkward and quiet without the talkative girl, and he ended class early just so they would talk amongst themselves and add some noise to the depressingly quiet room.

_The wedding is tomorrow, Severus, it's no wonder she isn't talking. _

He had tried not to think about that. The wedding meant the wedding night, and that would mean that that he would have to bed her. Just looking at her and thinking about that was frightening. Not because of inexperience-no, he had plenty of experience, it was just the fact that he knew she would not be marrying him willingly, she would not be in his bed willingly, and that made him cringe every time. He wasn't thrilled about the prospect either, but there was a certain sexual desire there for the young silent girl at the desk in the front row. She was pretty, certainly, despite her wild hair and too young age. And though he had never seen what lay under those robes, he couldn't deny there was a primal sort of excitement about seeing her in all her glory tomorrow night.

_What if she's a virgin, Severus, what are you going to do then? _

Sometimes he hated his thought process, how it would go down roads he had preferred to put out of his mind or never even thought of. Virgin or not, they would do what they would have to do, for the Order, for the Cause, and for their marriage. Her sexual status would just determine how unpleasant the following night would be.

Then he was waking up and having to get ready for his _wedding_ of all things. It would happen at seven in the evening, after dinner was over. Miss Granger would have the whole day to get ready, if she needed it, and then they would wed.

_Is she nervous? Because I am, though Merlin knows I won't tell her that. _

He showered and got dressed and went about his day as normal, trying to avoid any and all thoughts of the impending marriage.

҉

Hermione had gone wedding dress shopping over the weekends, but it was slightly surreal to actually be putting it on.

_Will he think I look pretty?_

It didn't really matter, she told herself, and shook her head as she attempted to tame her hair. A bath that morning had left it wet, and when it was wet it more manageable. Ginny and Professor McGonagall had helped her with her clothes, makeup, and hair, turning her into a real bride, a beautiful bride. She hardly recognized the girl looking back at her from the mirror, all pink lips and long lashes and shining locks.

She stepped into the Headmasters office, and a moment later, Snape entered. He wore a tuxedo and his hair wasn't greasy like normal, but she was still somber. Her face was fit for a funeral but her dress screamed of the wedding that was taking place.

_White's not my colour. _

After signing their respective names, Dumbledore was all smiles and told them a few other rules about the new marriage. Mandatory intercourse once a week until conceiving a child; a child must be conceived within six months of the marriage ceremony; the list went on and on. Finally, the Headmaster let them go down to Snape's quarters, an awkward, silent walk. Once they got down there, he showed her which bedroom would be hers and left her to change, asking her to come back to the living area when she was done. She pulled on some jeans and a sweater, avoiding the sweatpants she normally wore in the evenings.

_Don't want him to think you're lazy or anything._

He was in his normal robes, sitting in an armchair reading the paper when she came in. He gestured for her to sit down, and she picked the armchair opposite his. He folded up his paper and began.

"Though we will be sharing these quarters, I do have a few rules that I would like to instate, some boundaries, if you will. My study is off-limits. If you need me and I'm in there, knock on the door. That is my space and I intend to keep it that way. You are strictly forbidden from my laboratory. My experiments and notes are no business of yours, and there is nothing you need to see or know stored in there. We have separate bedrooms for a reason-keep your things in there, as I keep mine in my rooms. I have a house elf at my disposal should you need or want anything, his name is Alvar. And you are to address me as Professor or Sir in public. Any questions?" She thought for a moment.

"What books am I allowed to read?" She gestured to the bookcases lining the walls of the living space, and he glanced at them.

"Any book in here is at your disposable-if you want one from my study, bedroom, or lab, you'll have to ask."

"What are we going to do about a baby?" One of his eyebrows rose.

"You need to be clearer on that subject Miss Granger. What about a child?"

"I'm not Miss Granger anymore," she reminded him before continuing. "When we have the mandatory child, are you going to enlarge our quarters with a third bedroom for them, or are they going to stay in my room, or are we going to start sharing a room and the baby will have the second room?" He sighed.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." The clock on the mantel chimed eight o'clock, and Snape rose. "I expect you in my bedroom in half an hour." She stammered and blushed, and finally managed to choke out a few words.

"What for?" Had they not just agreed to have separate bedrooms? And wasn't it a little early to retire? He looked at her as if she was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen.

"We have to consummate the marriage." With a snap of his cloak he was gone, leaving her gaping by the fire. Then she scrambled back to her bedroom to get ready in time, blushing the whole way.

҉

He waited for her, pacing the bedroom as the half hour ticked by. After removing his cloak and draping it over a chair, he'd kept the rest of his clothes. He certainly didn't want to seem too eager, nor embarrass her by being under clothed when she finally showed up. So he waited, going back and forth, his steps muffled by the deep green carpet.

_Perhaps I should have gone to her room._

But she wouldn't have been comfortable anywhere, and at least one of them was familiar to this room. However now, once they were done, he was going to have to ask her to leave, which would making him feel like a git. Nevertheless, what would be would be. Maybe next time he would go to her room instead.

She showed up just as the clock was chiming eight thirty and he let her in. Her hair was reverting back to its natural state and she'd scrubbed off her makeup, but she was still pretty enough. Best of all, she wore a nightdress that was just sheer enough to make out the silhouette of her body against the dying fire.

_Merlin, she looks enticing. I hope she's not wearing any panties._

She stood stock still inside the doorway after he closed it, and after a moment of her being completely still, he chuckled.

"Are you just going to stand there all night? Because if that's the case, we can certainly do this standing up, although it's more comfortable on a bed." A blush bloomed along her cheeks and crept down her neckline. She moved to sit on the bed, head down, biting her lip, while Severus removed his shoes and came to stand before her.

"Lay down," he murmured, and stiffly, she complied. He moved on top of her, and at that moment, there was pure terror in her eyes. His hand, which had been on her thigh, paused.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, trembling.

"You're nervous, incredibly so, and I'm guessing that's because you're a virgin. Am I right?" She nodded and bit her lip again. "If you don't relax this is only going to be worse for you." Her head hit the pillow, staring at the ceiling, unable to lock eyes with him. He continued his ministrations, pulling her nightdress up to her hips.

_Oh sweet Merlin!_

She was shaved, totally bare, and he brought up a hand to cup her sex. Her head shot up from the pillow, red in the face as he slipped a finger between her folds and rubbed her clit. She wasn't wet, not yet, but he planned to make her so.

"Oh..." he pulled a noise from her and chuckled.

"Does that feel good?" He assumed she knew what she would like and dislike, that she had probably touched herself experimentally just a little.

"I...I don't know. It feels funny." His thumb continued to rub her while one finger came down and pushed inside her, elicited a sharp gasp from her. She was tight, incredibly so, and hot, but not wet enough yet.

"What do you like Hermione?" It was the first time he had called her by her given name, but he couldn't call her anything else. She wasn't Miss Granger anymore, and Mrs. Snape didn't sound right. So a goddesses name fell from his lips for the scared girl under him.

"I...I don't know what I like." He sighed lightly. Well, they would just have to find out, experiment a little maybe. A hand came up to caress her breasts through the fabric of the nightgown, and she shivered. His lips never touched her though, anywhere- not her neck, her lips, not anywhere. He pinched her nipples and slid his hand down her body, back between her legs.

She was a little wet, and that would have to do; he mused, and slid a second finger inside her, causing her to whimper. He removed his hand and undid his own pants, freeing the erection that had become painful. His hands moved to grip her hips and he lined himself up with her entrance.

One fast, upward thrust and he was inside her, just past her hymen. He was so enthralled he didn't hear the cry that left her lips. Another push and he'd buried himself up to her hilt, thinking he was in heaven. She was tight and hot and wet enough, and it just felt so wonderful. He groaned as he pulled out and pushed back, his pelvis hitting hers, filling her with one thrust. His eyes snapped open when he felt something rub one of the arms that were supporting him.

She was crying, he realized, and when she'd turned her head to the side her forehead had grazed his wrist. It took him a minute to realize exactly why she was crying when all these fabulous sensations were going on.

_She's a virgin, Severus, and you've just taken her like a milkmaid in a barn. You didn't hear that cry? Just stop for a minute, it'll be just as good when you start again. _

So he stopped his thrusting, and one hand came to rub her stomach, a small attempt to soothe her. Her eyes opened.

"Why did you stop?"

"You're crying," he pointed out, and his hand stilled awkwardly. She sniffled.

"So?" Her eyes threw accusations at him, and he knew that he'd taken his pleasure with no thought of hers, no thought of even being gentle.

"Do you want me to start again?" He moved his hand back to her hip and raised an eyebrow, daring her to say yes. She shook her head and stared at the ceiling while Severus fought the urge to bury himself inside her. He was pulsing with need, but, he reminded himself, he didn't want to hurt her.

"I...I think I'm okay now," she said after a few moments, and he began again, slowly, filling her but not forcefully. The wonderful sensations were still there, and he found himself closing his eyes and groaning. His thrusts got more forceful, sloppier, and then a deep and long moan fell from his lips and he came inside her. Very few noises came from his young bride.

He collapsed next to her, panting and smiling just a little bit. He hadn't had a shag like that in years, and oh, had it been _extraordinary_. Turning his head, he saw the back of his wife, curled up with a sheet pulled over.

_Merlin, she's not crying again is she? I couldn't have been that bad._

"Hermione?" He ventured unsteadily, not wanting to bother her any more than she already appeared to be.

_You were much too enthusiastic._

He had, he realized, wanted to smack himself. The girl had been painfully shy and had certainly not desired him at all, while he had touched and taken with unsuppressed glee. She would probably hate him; claw his eyes out, something like that.

But then she still hadn't responded, and he began to worry that she'd fallen asleep. Severus did not want to share his bed with the girl- he didn't like sharing his bead with anyone. And so he stood up, righted his clothes, and walked over to her side of the bed.

She wasn't asleep, but her eyes were closed, and so he reached out a hand and shook her shoulder. Her eyes flashed open and she looked up at him, pushing herself into a sitting position.

"About time for you to leave, don't you think? I gave you a bedroom for a reason." His voice came out harsher than he'd intended, and she nodded silently, swinging her feet out from under the blankets while trying to keep the sheet around her. His eyebrows came together.

"Oh, you think you can steal my sheet now too? You've got a nightdress on." She blushed and removed the sheet, pulling the nightgown down from where it had been on her thighs.

_Those delicious thighs I'd like to bury my head between. _

She moved to the doorway, and then turned around, speaking so softly he could barely hear her.

"I'm sorry about the sheets." He stared at her, wondering why in Merlin's name she was apologizing for what _he_ had done to her. A stray tear leaked down her face and she wiped it away before leaving.

What exactly _had_ he done to her? An inspection of the bed brought up a spot of blood, nothing more, nothing major. She hadn't had any bruises when she's left, and he couldn't remember gripping her back or her hips or her legs too tightly. Besides the actual, well, sex part, he didn't think he'd hurt her.

It was the fact that they'd had sex that had caused her pain, both physically and emotionally. He couldn't deny that. But it had been necessary, and he couldn't help it, couldn't help that she had been a virgin and it would have hurt no matter what he did. No apology would come from him.

҉

Hermione didn't know how long she had been asleep, but she knew it had been a long time. It had been a restless night and she had tossed and turned for a few hours, had adjusted this and that about her new bedroom and then tried to go to sleep. But sleep had evaded her in these new quarters, in this new life, and she wondered if that was ominous for the rest of her life, if her body didn't trust the place enough to let her drift off.

Snape would probably be up already, and with that in mind she pulled herself out of bed, showered and then went to the living room to see if he was there. She wondered if he would wait for her so they could go to breakfast together, or if his personal habits wouldn't be disturbed by her.

To her surprise he was actually waiting for her but appeared to be quite put out by it. He stood abruptly when she entered the room and went to the door, accepting that she would simply follow him. She crossed her arms and planted her feet, now determined to stay.

"I was thinking maybe Alvar could bring us breakfast and we could eat here. That way we could talk, you know, get to know each other." He glared at her from the doorway.

"I'll deal with you later," he sneered and slammed the door shut. Now she definitely couldn't go to breakfast in the Great Hall as much as she wanted to. She wanted to go and talk with Harry and Ron and act as if everything was normal, as if they were all students, all Gryffindors, together still.

But it was probably best if she stayed here, that would mean fewer questions, fewer inquires about what had happened and what Snape's quarters looked like, etc. Things would be calmer here, and she could relax, read a book while having some bangers and toast maybe. Yes that sounded perfect, an ideal way she would have spent a morning at her parents' home, so why not do it here?

She called Alvar and he brought up some food and then curled up with a book in the armchair, trying to balance everything and eat simultaneously. It was a good book about the repression of witches and wizards back in the 11th century. It had been on Snape's bookshelf, a surprising find but she had snatched it up since it was out here in the living area.

He came back and found her balancing an empty plate on her knee while engrossed in her book. The door slamming shut caused her to jump and the precarious harmony that she had struck shattered, along with her plate. That just caused his glare to deepen, even though she repaired the plate and Alvar came and took it back to the kitchens. Now she stood under his gaze, wondering what he had meant earlier by 'deal with you later'. She supposed 'later' had come, but what did 'deal with her' mean?

"Not only do you not show your face at breakfast, which aroused plenty of gossip, you make a mess of my living quarters." She opened her mouth to say all she had done was break one plate and then put it back together, but he cut her off. "Why did you refuse to come to the Great Hall this morning?" He seemed personally offended by her wanting to take breakfast here, a confrontation she had been unprepared for.

"I just didn't want to have to answer everybody's questions about the wedding and such, is that so awful?" He moved closer to her, within a few steps, and the volume of his speech increased to where he wasn't quite shouting, not yet.

"Do you know what people started whispering about when you weren't there to sit with those imbeciles you call friends? That I'd hurt you and worse, that you were in such bad shape that you couldn't get out of bed, wouldn't show how bad you looked in the dining hall. Do you know what that does to my reputation?" Her nose wrinkled.

"I was under the impression you didn't care about your reputation, you being the bat of the dungeons and all." He moved so close to her he filled her whole vision, and she could feel his breath on her face when she looked up to meet his eyes.

"There is very little I care about in this world, Miss Granger, but I will not have children and professors alike running around saying that I abuse women. I shan't stand for it, and if I have to drag you out in public to prove that you are indeed fine, so be it. You _will_ come to lunch _and_ dinner in the Great Hall, understand?"

"I'm not a child, you can't order me around. In case you don't remember, we're married, and marriage is a partnership, which means we talk about things, we compromise. It would have looked fine if you had just stayed here this morning." He gripped her arm and shook it a bit, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to scare her a bit.

"You will _not_ speak to me that way in my own house. I am your husband and you will respect me. I did not want to stay for breakfast this morning, but perhaps if you had woken up on time we wouldn't have had such an issue. I'm not going to wake you up every day; you're old enough to do that yourself." She bit her lip and pulled her arm, but he held fast.

"Let go, Severus." Out of spite he gripped her tighter and she yanked harder, for the first time truly afraid of the man towering over her. "Please, it's starting to hurt, let go." She pulled harder and he freed her, leaving pink finger marks under her sweater.

She turned and fled back to her room, leaving him standing there. Her room needed refurbishing anyway, she told herself, and set about changing this and that. Avoiding Gryffindor and Slytherin colors, she made the walls pink just like home and the bedspread white. She'd have to ask Snape for a bookshelf to put all her books on- she'd shrunk them and brought them down here with her. Her pictures and such went on the walls, a desk in the corner, and a cat bed for Crookshanks. Of course the cat refused to sleep in it, preferring to sleep with Hermione herself, but it was there nonetheless. Crookshanks had demanded to stay in Gryffindor tower instead of come with Hermione down to Snape's quarters, but perhaps a night without her would convince the stubborn cat. But would Snape be okay with a cat? That was another thing on a long list of things they hadn't discussed.

She ventured out fifteen minutes early for lunch, determined that he wouldn't find any more faults with her, at least not today. It was certainly a record for how fast a married couple had fought, their first full day of being married, and they were already at war with one another. But if Hermione was sure of one thing, she was sure she could at least learn how to live with the man. Her parents had had a wonderful marriage and going off their example, she could at least form a union she could live with. She wouldn't give up so easily, they just had to get used to this new life together. Her parents had told her as much.

This time she waited for him. Her book was still on the chair so she cracked it open and read it until he showed up several minutes later. She didn't want to look as if she'd been waiting for him, but she wanted to appear ready so as not to annoy him. When the door to his study opened and he came in she attempted a small smile and stood up.

"Did you get some good work done?" He looked at her suspiciously, as if wary of the fact that she was talking to him. Maybe a question wasn't the best way to start things, since he didn't like to talk about himself. "I got my room decorated, and I like to think it looks pretty nice, although do you think we could move a bookshelf in there? I've got a pretty good collection going and I'd like to put them somewhere. Oh, and Crookshanks, what are we going to do about him? I never got to ask you if you were okay with a cat." She blinked at him, waiting for him to talk, but he seemed overwhelmed by the sheer amount of words that had come out of her mouth.

"Certainly you can have a bookshelf," he finally stated, and she grinned. "Now about a cat... I've never liked animals, and I have no love for felines especially." The smile disappeared.

"But I can't just get rid of the poor darling! I'm the only one who loves him, he needs me, please can't I at least keep him in my room, just my room? Doesn't he count amongst my possessions, and you said you didn't care what I kept in there." The argument reminded her very much of a teenager begging a parent for something, not a debate between a husband a wife.

"'The poor darling'? From what I've heard about that cat of yours is a horrible hairball." She opened her mouth to beg, to protest, but he held up a hand. "But if you just love the beast so much then you can keep it in your room and only in your room. If it gets out in this house and rips up my furniture and destroys the place he's out, no second chances, understood?" She nodded vehemently.

"Well, shall we go off to lunch?" She asked and he nodded, going to hold the door and then walking beside her. They were a silent, odd-looking couple and they went their separate ways once they got to the dining hall.

_But at least you've pacified him._

She sat and ate with Harry and Ron who talked and laughed with her and mercifully didn't ask her any questions. Luna surprisingly sat with them and if it looked like the boys were getting curious she would inject something into the conversation to steer them onto a different topic. Ginny sat with them too and quelled anything if the boys broke through the Luna defense, and Hermione realized with a sudden passion that she truly did have wonderful friends.

When lunch was over she trudged back to where Snape was standing, wondering what she was going to do for the afternoon trapped down in the dungeons. Of course she could always do homework, but she had wanted to that in the library and wasn't fond of asking if she could go someplace. More than anything she wanted them to talk about some things, but Snape wanted to do anything but talk.

They walked in silence back down to his rooms, and when they were inside she turned to him.

"Are we going to talk about things?" He looked at her questionably, as if he didn't know what they would have to talk about, or he at least didn't want to. "We need to talk about all of the little details of married life. It won't take long, come on, let's just sit down and chat." His eyebrow rose.

"I do not just sit down and chat." He sighed, "What is it you want to discuss, because I have work to do and would like to get going." She withheld the grin of triumph from her face and went down the mental list.

"What am I allowed to do and not do? Because I wanted to go to the library after lunch today, but I didn't know if you'd let me, so we need figure out what we're okay with the other doing without having to ask. And what are we going to with the Order of the Phoenix, because technically I won't be in it until I graduate but if you're leaving in the middle of the night I'd like to know where you're going-" He cut her off then, as he always did, not letting her finish her thoughts.

"Personally I don't really care what you do or where you go so long as it's in the castle and it does not involve infidelity; you needn't ask me to go to the library of all places. This _we_ business though is going to be difficult, because I'm going to do whatever I please just as I did before you invaded my personal space." Her brow wrinkled in indignation but he continued. "As for Order meetings or my disappearing in the middle of the night, all of that is my business and my business alone. One, it could endanger you should circumstances arise, and two you don't need to know where I'm going."

"You're my husband; I have every right to know where you're going!" He chuckled darkly and walked over to stand in front of his study door.

"Just because we are wed does not mean I have to change all my ways. Should I be going to a Death Eater meeting or an Order meeting that is up to me alone to know. If I am going to somewhere else entirely, that is again for me to know." Hermione raced over and stood on her toes in front of him, glaring threateningly.

"Should you be consorting with whores you will soon find yourself without a wife." He smiled dangerously and traced her hairline with a fingertip.

"I will do as I please, now don't you have some homework to do?" His cloak snapped as he turned and closed the door to his study, leaving her fuming, especially because he was right, and she would have to get to work if she wanted some free time this evening. So she sat huffing at her desk trying to concentrate on her homework for a few hours, furious but trying to calm down.

_This marriage is going to be the end of me at this rate. _


	3. Chapter 3

Severus went to bed that night frustrated. That little wife of his had been exceedingly annoying, even more than normal. Living with her was going to be a real chore, he could already tell. He swallowed some Dreamless Sleep and laid back, darkness claiming him within minutes.

The next morning there were classes, so he was up early and reading the paper in the living area, having forgotten about Hermione temporarily. His heart lept to his throat when he heard a creaking, but then reminded himself that he was married and his little wife was probably getting ready for school.

_You're going to have to teach her, Severus._

She wouldn't be in his potions class today, but she would eventually. Of course he would treat her like he always had, but things would be different. They lived together, and once a week they would be forced to be intimate. Eventually a child would have to come into the picture as well, and he wasn't sure how that was going to work. Six months would be the very end of her last year at Hogwarts, so what would they do then? He had no problem with her going to university, but she would have to live with him, especially if a child was involved.

He waited for her so they could go together to breakfast, and when she came out in her school robes he swallowed thickly. Here she was a student still, one he'd been teaching for years, and he had bedded her over the weekend. A small piece of guilt shot into his stomach but dissolved like ice. She was his wife; he could do what he liked with her. It wasn't his fault how their matrimony had come about.

They separated for breakfast and he sat with the professors. Minerva sat next to him and cast a silent, heavy gaze from him to Hermione and back again, asking questions in her mind. He ate silently, trying to avoid her eyes. If she really wanted to know something so bad she could open her mouth and ask, he wouldn't be baited into it.

"How was the weekend Severus?" He glanced at her over his cup. She raised her eyebrow like she did with students, an impatient look on her face. He couldn't skip around her questions, not when her favorite little Gryffindor was involved.

"She's fine Minerva. It hurt but it had to, and she'll get used to it." The woman pursed her lips and drank, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She would say something, he knew it, but she was formulating the perfect response.

"You be gentle with her Severus, she's only 17 you know." The woman couldn't tell him not to touch her darling Princess of the Golden Trio, but she could lecture him, warn him. He speared a piece of meat and cut a glare at her.

"She's of age; she'll be fine no matter what I do with her. And I don't do that much with her." He took a bite of food and chuckled. "Except argue, of course, she's an expert at arguing." Immediately Minerva jumped to the girl's defense.

"We've put her in a very stressful situation, you can't expect her to just settle in and be calm about it. She has to adjust to life with you and vice versa. I'm sure you two can get along if you'd only try." He shook his head, not wanting to argue with another woman. Instead he went down to his classroom which, of the moment, was peaceful and student free.

It smelled like herbs and potions ingredients, and the coolness of the dungeons was soothing. Although Severus had always desired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions would have been his second choice, and it could be worse. He could be stuck in Runes or Muggle Studies or something like that, so Potions in the long run suited him well enough.

Soon the peace was interrupted by students though, and his calm demeanor faded into the professor that everyone else knew. Calm was something difficult to come by lately, especially with the wedding and such.

Lunch came about eventually and he saw Hermione gobbling down her food and then running off, presumably to the library. She spent too much time there, he mused, and perhaps that was why her friends were so abysmal. Not that he'd had the greatest friends in school either, but he'd had Lily until 7th year and then Lucius and others had replaced her. Or replaced her to the extent that you could replace that copper haired beauty who still haunted his dreams and nightmares.

When dinner came and went he waited for Hermione in the shadows. She said goodbye to her friends, laughing, and turned to him. The smile and laughter faded instantly as if his very presence commanded seriousness, a formality to her attitude. Her bag pulled her shoulder down and a sliver of white shoulder peeked out.

They walked in silence down to their rooms and then disappeared inside. That was how things went for the rest of the week, but, he thought with some relief, at least they weren't shouting at each other every waking minute. His own parent's marriage hadn't been nearly as good, so he was content for them to live separate lives under the same roof. Fighting brought back memories of his childhood, of when his father had raised his fist at both his mother and him. He never, ever, wanted to become so enraged that he struck Hermione, for in that moment he would become like his father, and that was a person he had sworn he would never, ever, turn into.

Friday night she asked if she could spend the night in Gryffindor Tower. With tight lips he consented and thanked her for asking first, proving just how formal the relationship was. She smiled and skipped off, happier with those few words than she had been the entire week with him.

Saturday she'd spent most of the day out and about with her friends, leaving him to brood and work in his lab. His lab was attached to his bedroom while his study was an offshoot of the main room. The bedroom Hermione now occupied had been nonexistent before, but with a little magic he'd pulled it out of the walls.

Saturday night marked a week since their wedding night, which meant intercourse. He waited until she was settled back in her room before going to her and closing the door behind him.

She seemed startled by the fact that he was in her private rooms, which meant she had probably forgotten about the requirement. If only they could forget about this whole ordeal, but this was what was best for the Order, for the Cause, and so it would be.

"Lay down," he ordered, and awareness flashed in her eyes. She moved from her desk to be standing against the wall, shaking her head, not quite frowning. He closed his eyes and removed his robe, then his shoes, and looked up to see her still standing there, stock still, shaking. A sigh escaped his lips as he approached her.

"Please don't make me..." she murmured as he stood in front of her. He cursed himself inwardly, remembering when he'd heard those same words from his mother's mouth screamed at his father. He wouldn't, couldn't, force her, but they had to do this, it was necessary, vital, to the law. A swear left his lips before he actually talked to her.

"It's not going to hurt like last time, I promise, you may even-" She cut him off before he could say 'enjoy it'. There was a primal enjoyment of sex even if you weren't with your preferred partner, and she would figure that out eventually.

"I just...I don't want to. Do we have to do it tonight?" He breathed slowly and let his eyes flutter shut and then open again. There would be no violence, but he had to make her see that yes, indeed, they had to this tonight.

"Yes, Hermione, it has to be tonight. It'll be quick and painless, I promise, just go lie down on the bed." He expected an argument, a shouting match maybe, of how this was a partnership and he couldn't just barge into her rooms and throw her on the bed. Yet she also knew that this was to be expected with all the rules and regulations set before them.

He climbed on top of her again and pulled her jeans off. Her eyes focused on the ceiling, though she flinched every time his skin made contact with hers. When he had rid her of those ridiculous jeans he sat back, causing her to look up at him.

"Get up," he growled, and she complied readily. He lay down and pulled her legs so she straddled him, giving him a much better view and letting her be in control. Not that she really knew what to do, but there was really only one way to learn. He pulled himself free as she removed her own panties and he waited for her to begin, not wanting to seem as eager as last time.

She was timid, reaching out slowly to take him in her hand and guide him to her entrance. No foreplay, much to his chagrin, but she probably felt too awkward for that anyway. She guided him to her entrance and raised her hips, adjusting to him as she took him in. He put his hands on her thighs to steady her but not much else, wanting her to figure things out on her own. If she would only move things would get better.

When she did he groaned softly, wanting to push her hips faster, but he managed to restrain himself. He'd promised Minerva he'd be careful with the girl, gentle if at all possible, and that meant restraint.

Finally she started moving a little more, her face scrunched up in concentration. He helped guide her hips a little but nothing more, preferring for her to explore feelings by herself. Yet she seemed frustrated, taking all of him inside her, and finally she spoke, softly.

"How...how do you make it feel good?" He chuckled and reached up, pushing her folds apart and pressing her clit. She flinched lightly but let him touch her, rolling her hips forward to take all of him. A sigh left her lips and for the first time Severus thought that maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying this. But just a few moments later she stopped moving and her eyebrows pulled together, making her look upset.

"It still doesn't feel good, not like how-" He propped himself up on his elbow's and cocked an eyebrow.

"How what? How you read about it? You dirty girl, reading about sex." Her eyes widened at his talk and she blushed at the same time. He grabbed her by the waist and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed so he was sitting up and she sat in on his lap, legs crossed behind his back. Her head rested on his shoulder as he repositioned them.

"Are you okay," he asked, mouth next to her ear, and she nodded, prompting him to move. A gasp came from her mouth at the angle of penetration and the simultaneous stimulation on her clit, making him smile. She moved too, making little noises as he grunted periodically. He pulled her down harshly and came hard. She had shuddered several times but never come, yet as he pulled back her face was flushed, resting against his shoulder once more.

"That felt better," she whispered, and he rubbed her legs before she climbed off, turning her back to put clothes back on. They each righted their clothes and he moved closer to the doorway, not yet wanting to leave but knowing he was invading her personal space.

He had to give her kudos for the room, as she'd done a great job with it. The walls were lavender with a Fleur de Lys pattern in white. She had white furniture- of course a bed, two sets of drawers, a desk, and several bookshelves. There were picture frames on the walls, shelves, and desk of her and those idiots she wasted her time with, her parents; childhood photos; and a few different pets, one dog, one cat, a toddler looking at a fishbowl with wonder, and a little girl grinning and holding a hamster. Crookshanks was there too, along with her owl. All the pictures from her wizarding years moved- Potter, Weasley, and her all grinned and shuffled; the loony blonde Ravenclaw waved and danced; Ginerva Weasley was blowing kisses. However her parents and childhood pictures were eerily still.

"Aren't you leaving?" He turned around from his inspection and found her squinting at him suspiciously. There had been something on his brain, some reason why he had stayed, and he searched his mind frantically before saying it aloud.

"You flinch, every time I touch you. Why?" She blinked rapidly at his bluntness and backed up a few steps. He took a step forward. "If you think I'm going to hurt you, I promise, I won't. I could never," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "hurt you," he finished. He moved closer, tipping her face up, her eyes water. "Do you fear me, is that it? No one should fear their husband in their own house." She shook her head.

"I'm just...I've never been intimate with anyone before and...It's weird, how my body responds. Do you expect me to just let you touch me, to jump in bed with you whenever you like? And I don't want you to find something wrong with me." He blanched.

"Wrong with you? What could I ever find that was wrong with you?" She laughed mirthlessly.

"You haven't seen my top half yet. That might make you change your mind." He frowned and slipped his fingers under top, tugging gently. She kept her arms down but didn't protest, and he slowly worked her shirt off of her, then her bra.

There was a large scar, a thick patch of skin that stretched from under one breast and down to the end of her ribcage. She kept her arms rigid at her sides, staring at the floor. The tips of his fingers traced along the deep cut, and although she didn't flinch, she wouldn't meet his eyes. He pressed his hand over it.

"Is this what you think is wrong with you?" She stepped away from his hands, folding her arms over her breasts but leaving the scar partially exposed.

"I haven't seen your chest either. Is there something you're hiding?" Slowly he reached up and began to unbutton his own shirt. His robes and shirt fell to the floor, revealing a lean, not quite muscular chest.

There were a few scars crisscrossing his skin, he wasn't covered in them, but he had them. All of him was pale, but the scars were raised flesh, easily discernable in the light. She came toward him, one arm covering herself while another raised its hand and then let its fingers trace the paths of his scars.

"How did you get these?" She whispered, her fingers not wanting to follow every line. He pushed his own hand under her breast to her scar.

"The same way you got yours. If the Dark Lord isn't pleased with you, he tortures you. Scars are the result. My back looks the same way." She blinked at him and pressed a hand over his heart where there was a particularly nasty cut, nearly five centimeters wide and two times as long.

"Did he...did he try to kill you?" He shook his head.

"My father wasn't very good to me." Her eyes widened and she stared at his chest again, trying to figure out what was magic and what was muggle work.

"But this one is so large, and... How could a father do this to his own child?" He pushed her hand down his side, to a patch of smooth skin.

"A belt buckle caught and ripped, although most of his handiwork shows on my back. This is mainly the Dark Lord's doing. Nothing to be afraid of."

_Something to be ashamed of, though. You don't even look in the mirror anymore. _

She backed away from him and moved to pull her shirt back on. He followed suit and excused himself, not realizing until later that he never asked how she'd gotten her scar, he'd just assumed it had been from the fight in the Ministry. Maybe it wasn't that at all, maybe she had gotten that awful looking thing from something else entirely and she just never said. He shook his head-she was a straight forward girl, she would have told him if she'd gotten it some other way, via attack or something else.


	4. Chapter 6

**Now this chapter will probably cause mutiny at first, but it is important and therefore I would like you not to freak out and threaten to stop reading. Try to enjoy this chapter, it's somewhat fluffy. **

The winter holiday donned white and peaceful. Severus was planning to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas—he always stayed, would always stay. There was nothing worth going home too, and it was preferable to stay here.

He went up to tell Albus he was staying—it was considered polite for professors to inform the Headmaster of their whereabouts during breaks. So here he was, again refusing lemon drops and tea, saying he was staying for Christmas.

The man instantly refused him, saying that that just wouldn't do, that he was a married man with a wife and they should be home for their first Christmas. Severus sputtered, trying to come up with a good protest.

Hogwarts would have a more homey feel than any place he had ever would; just because he was married did not mean he wanted to be stuck with said wife for two weeks with no one else for company; Hermione's friends were staying, so it would be best to stay for both of them. Albus would have none of it, shoving him out the door, insisting he leave, and have a Happy Christmas.

It took much convincing. Hermione did not want to leave, even if the Headmaster had told them to go. Why couldn't they just stay, Hogwarts was wonderful at Christmastime, and with Harry and Ron staying, that made extra incentive.

Eventually, though, he swayed her, emphasizing the fact that Albus had all but ordered it, that it would be good to get out of the castle for a little while. So they each packed their things, shrunk them to fit in their pockets, and took the floo to his house, much to both of their chagrin.

They did not floo to Spinner's End. No, that had been his childhood home, but he no longer truly lived there. The Dark Lord had gifted him a home several years ago, exactly how long ago he wasn't sure.

It was pretty much a mansion. The Dark Lord did not give presents halfway, and had given him the large house close to Hogwarts, convenient and pre-decorated, though he had done some refurbishing

The gift was an old gothic mansion, beautifully restored. There were twenty rooms on three stories, plus acres of gardens. The first floor held the ballroom, dining room, billiard room, parlor, and conservatory. On the second floor were the library, study, kitchen, butler's pantry, and maid's quarters. The third floor was where the five bedrooms and adjoining bathrooms were.

He knew Hermione had not been expecting this of all places, and he, graciously from his perspective, gave her a quick tour. 'Quick' was the best way to put it, although showing her all three floors and where things were located took nearly forty-five minutes.

Alvar had come with them and would be staying in the butler's pantry. He gave Hermione her choice of bedroom and took the main master as he always did. He took his time settling in and then went to his study, preparing to get some work done over the break even if he _had_ to go away.

He knew Hermione would find her way to the library and stay there until he dragged her out. Not that he wanted to, but she had to eat sometime, and Alvar always fixed him dinner at seven o'clock sharp over break, and if she wasn't out, well tough. Certainly the elf could make something for her on her own time, he wouldn't wait.

Seven o'clock came faster than he thought, and the elf popped in to the study to tell him dinner was ready, and should he get Mistress? Severus nodded and crossed the floor to the dining room, smelling chicken with rosemary and roasted potatoes.

Hermione showed up shortly after he had sat down, and they ate together, her yapping about books and him occasionally supplementing the conversation with tidbits about his private Potions work.

Dessert, spontaneously brought out by Alvar, was two slices of chocolate Charlotte Royale, presented like a fabulous work of art. Severus was astonished, he never had dessert, didn't care for sweet things really, but Hermione was delighted and dug right in.

As the days slowly passed, Severus discovered Hermione had quite the thing for sweets. It wasn't exactly a sweet tooth, she ate healthy things and had a limit, but she definitely had a taste for sugared confections. He found a bowl of macaroons in her room and a tray of petite fours in the library. Alvar made any number of delectable desserts to please her.

They didn't avoid each other, but they made no extra effort to spend time together either. He spent his days in his lab, brewing and brooding, reading and relaxing, while she was holed up in the library, spending every waking moment reading.

Of course they spoke at dinner, the only meal they took together. Severus was an early riser, even on holidays, and he rose early and stayed up late now. Hermione would also stay up late but preferred to compensate that by sleeping in.

That first Saturday he went to her room around eleven thirty (early for him) and found her asleep. Part of him wanted to leave her in peace and another wanted to wake her up slowly and sensuously, although he could guess what kind of reaction he would have to the latter.

He planned on just retiring earlier the following night and hoping the Ministry wouldn't notice. Come to think of it, he still didn't know how they knew about the frequency of their coitus, but somehow they did.

As he closed her door behind him and walked down the hall, his arm burned. Of course the Dark Lord would summon him over a break, close to Christmas.

He arrived at the meeting and went to where the Dark Lord sat, bowing before asking if he needed anything. To his surprise, his Lordship made a curious request—host a party at his mansion, the one he had been gifted.

"I gave that to you to use it well, and you haven't shown it off once. Throw a Christmas party, why don't you? Invite all the Death Eaters, oh, and show off that wife of yours while you're at it too. I did not arrange the marriage for nothing."

Lucius came up to him when the meeting was order and they did small talk for a little while until Severus asked his question.

"Since you love parties so much, why not you come over and put together one at my house." The blonde man laughed and grasped his presumed friend's forearm.

"How much time will I have, and when?" Immediately Lucius was asking questions, and Severus could only smirk a little and give the man directions. If there was one thing the man had a passion for, it was parties.

Hermione was pacing like an animal when he got home that afternoon. She had been worried sick, she said, had had no idea where he had gone off to, he couldn't have left a note?

It was a testament to her level of worry that she hugged him. There was little physical affection besides their demanded intimacy; no kissing or hand holding or anything of that matter. But now she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, mumbling her anxiety about his unexplainable disappearance.

He stroked her hair and whispered into her ear that he'd let her know next time, that it had been late and he didn't want to wake her up. He told her about the party then.

A party would be fun, she said, although when he mentioned the crowd she lost some interest. She would still get to dress up though, and it would only be polite for the host and hostess to be gracious.

He felt awful, forcing her to associate with that kind of crowd Yes of course she would get to dress up, but she wouldn't have to stay long if she didn't want to, to which she nodded her assent. Lucius would be over in five days, in the morning, and the party would take place in the evening.

Christmas was four days later, and he still hadn't bought her a present. Of course books would always work, so he guessed he could pick one of those up.

Alvar decorated the place overnight, and in four days, Christmas was upon them. He was awake early as always and to his surprise, she was too. She was bouncing around the Christmas tree that now dominated the parlor, presents wrapped in beautiful paper piled underneath. He handed her a mug of tea and sipped his own, sitting down in an armchair.

She took it as a sign to unwrap hers first. It had been a busy four days for Severus Snape, but he had managed, and with Alvar's help, he couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself. She got jewelry and some new clothes, including a dress to wear that night, some candy from that stupid store the Weasley brothers opened, but mainly books. He had started with one and found nearly a dozen he thought she would like, so he bought them all.

His own presents were higher in quality, lesser in quantity. There was some French cologne, a leather-bound notebook for keeping track of Potions, new Potion ingredients, a receipt so he could get a new tuxedo, and a silver pocket watch.

They had a big breakfast with three different types of meats, French toast, waffles, eggs, and fruit. Lucius came by floo at about ten with several house elves and announced they wouldn't recognize the place afterward. Severus took Hermione upstairs to the library, out of the crazed man's way for the time being.

She was diving into her books though, and he found himself in his study, putting away presents and organizing. Hours passed easily and when Lucius barged through the door and declared that the first floor was perfect, it was nearly six.

So he went and took a shower, got dressed, applied that new cologne that his wife had so kindly picked out. His wife who was about to consort with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself and be asked not to tell a soul, not to turn them in.

When he left his room he was graced with the sight of his wife, beautiful in a sapphire blue chiffon dress. Her hair was pulled back and the jewelry he had gifted her earlier was on too. He crossed the hall slowly and offered her his arm, smiling gently, and walked her down the staircase to the first floor.

The guests had swarmed his downstairs, floating from room to room in their formal wear. Lucius and Narcissa were waiting at the bottom of the staircase, both decked out in emerald green. They greeted them first, and then moved on.

It took a while, since there were so many guests. The Dark Lord was there in his normal robes and he was the priority, and then he was making introductions to Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, to Crabbe and Goyle, and the worst of wizard society. She was polite, courteous, and when they were done he went to go get drinks for them while she waited by the staircase.

It was while he was gone getting drinks that something happened. He came back and found Bellatrix in a too tight black number, leaning, drunk, against the balustrade. He looked around for Hermione but couldn't see her, and finally dared ask the drunken lady.

"Oh, Greyback dr-dragged her up-upstairs!" A shrill laugh escaped her lips and she nearly toppled on top of him. Why had he ever thought alcohol at the party was a good idea?

"He WHAT?!" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"...just wanted a little fun," she ran a finger down his cheek and drunkenly moved to kiss him. He pulled himself away violently and dashed up the stairs.

҉

It had happened quite suddenly, really. Hermione had been waiting by the staircase and suddenly the werewolf had popped up, dug his fingers into her arm, charmed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, and dragged her upstairs. Surprisingly simple really, and no one had come to her aid. But who would, in a crowd of Death Eaters?

Now Greyback's hands were pushing places only her lovers had gone, and she was crying, begging him to let her up once he released her tongue. The man just chuckled lightly and sucked on her neck, the stench of alcohol invading her nose as his hands proceeded to violate her.

Then there was a pounding on the door, and she could hear her husband shouting once, twice, and then the door was flying off its hinges and he was flying into the room and flinging hexes at the werewolf. Never had she been so grateful to see her husband, and she sank to the floor, her dress ripped, the hair she had spent so long taming falling down gracelessly.

"What happened?" He asked instantly, pulling her to her feet gently, his arms making a cage around her. She rested her forehead on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, beginning to cry.

He scooped her up and carried her, bridal style to her bedroom. He sat with her in his lap on her bed, cradling her with her head against his chest. His hands rubbed her back, soothing, and finally he spoke up, in a whisper.

"Do you want to change, or take a bath? Should I leave?" She shook her head and clung to him tighter, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Please...please don't leave. Just stay...and...and hold me." He nodded and wrapped her tighter and that was how they stayed, clinging to each other, until she fell asleep.

She woke up tucked into her bed in satin pajamas, Severus dozing off in the armchair by the dead hearth. As soon as she stretched, he was by her bedside.

"Does anything hurt?" She shook her head and moved to get out of the bed. All she wanted right now was a hot bath and some tea, and when she told that to her husband, he let her alone.

She avoided human contact for the rest of the break. Or at least she would have, expect when that last Saturday came about and she went up to her bedroom from the library to find Severus waiting. Her heart began to pound and she swallowed thickly at the sight of his silhouette against the dying fire.

"You can't expect me to...it's only been a few days since Greyback tried to..." He walked to her and grasped her hands lightly.

"It's been a week, Hermione, and we have to do this once a week. It's not going to hurt or anything, I promise." She was shaking lightly.

"If I tell you to stop..." He kissed her jaw.

"We stop, right away, no tears, no bad feelings." He was tugging at her clothes then and she was letting him. It was the first night he kissed her on the mouth, the first night he truly tried to make love to her, bringing them both to ecstasy and beyond.

Afterward he held her, head cradled on his chest, her hair like a halo, their legs tangled in the silken sheets.

**Now, you can still vote for a girl or boy, and girl is up 4 to 1. I already have names picked out, and it's only going to be one baby. And if you don't like something in the story and have some constructive criticism PM me please. **


	5. Chapter 7

**Thank you for all my reviews and to everyone all over the world who has viewed my story! Everyone has voted overall for a girl, so a girl it is. This is one of two chapters that I have put a lot in to, so I hope you really like it. **

January brought about a tragedy. He was roused in the middle of the night by someone pounding on the door to his private chambers, and livid as he was, he knew it was an emergency. The Headmaster stood there, clothes askew, and waited for him to quickly pull on some robes. It was a quick, quiet walk outside.

Under the Ravenclaw tower was a body, crumpled at all the wrong angles. The other Heads were standing, looking at it, one or two wiping away silent tears. He cleared his throat, quietly, respectfully, for the dead boy at their feet. Filius Flitwick, being Head of Ravenclaw, came over and filled him.

They'd been awoken by the Head Boy of Ravenclaw about half an hour ago, when the boy had said he'd heard breaking glass from the bathroom. They found a broken window in the bathroom and had been able to see something on the ground. Upon exploration they'd found the boy, cold as stone, tangled in the ivy.

The Headmaster took him aside, asked if he recognized the boy, but didn't wait for an answer. He was the best friend of one of his fifth years apparently; Severus would have to tell the girl. Now.

So Severus trudged unhappily down to the dungeon's, contemplating exactly how he would break the news to the girl. There had been very few deaths actually at Hogwarts—if something happened to a family member while a student was away at school, usually the Headmaster dealt with that.

He summoned a sleepy Alvar, told the elf to find Carina Jacquard and get her into the common room please. The little house elf nodded and returned a few minutes later, tugging the tired girls hand, looking confused.

The news registered instantly. She collapsed onto the couch, bent forward as if she might retch, holding her head in her hands. What else could he say besides he was sorry, that there was nothing anyone could have done?

The Slytherin flashed in her, and she lept to her feet, red eyed. Yelled at him that of course they could have stopped it, that _she_ should have stopped this. No consoling would convince her otherwise, and the first thought that came to mind probably wasn't the best one.

_She needs a drink before she hurts herself, or me._

He pulled her down the corridor to the Potions room, into his private room, and plunked her down in front of the fire. She stared at the flames, disturbingly silent, while he pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky and poured both himself and her a glass.

After a few moments of refusing she finally took the glass and downed it in one gulp, as if she was a hard drinker. The wince at the end gave her away, and the fact that she didn't ask for more.

Hermione came out of her bedroom then, rubbing her eyes, the nightshirt she wore showing off those lovely legs of hers. She blinked at the girl in front of the fireplace, raised an eyebrow at Severus.

He walked to her quickly, leaning over to whisper the situation, sending her back to bed. She nodded, said how sorry she was to Carina, who nodded vaguely.

Convincing the girl to go back to bed was difficult. She shook her head avidly, said she would just hear him, see him, and that would be too painful. He pondered what to do for a moment, what he would have liked for someone to do for him after Lily.

He went over and pulled a long glass vial off a shelf, came back and asked her to stand up. He told her to close her eyes and remember all the happy times she's had with the boy, one by one, each to its fullest extent. Bringing the tip of his wand to her temple he extracted a meter long silver strand of memory and bottled it, for when she got lonely, when she needed him.

She was the third girl (Lily, Hermione, and now Carina) to hug him. Thanking him profusely, she left, and he assured her she wouldn't have to come to class the next day, that classes would probably be canceled the rest of the week.

It was rare to have a funeral at Hogwarts—the Diggory boy had been taken home by his parents, and his funeral had been elsewhere. Yet, a week after the incident, everyone was in the Great Hall, dressed in black, and somber.

Dumbledore spoke, as did Filius, but it was Carina who got up in front of everyone and delivered a speech worthy of the Minister himself. She spoke for a solid twenty minutes.

He didn't stay to whisper to other people afterward and talk softly about how good the young boy's life had been—as if being quiet would bring him back, or at the least respectful.

Hermione had gone and sat beside him, stiffly, and had held a handkerchief to her face a few times. He was sure she hadn't known the boy, but the words, especially Carina's, had been moving.

They went back down to their rooms and read in front of the fire, as if this was a normal Thursday, as if they had not come from a funeral. He read the paper and she buried herself in one of the books he had bought her over break, the fire roaring.

That night the Head Girl came and fetched him, and he found Carina on the couch, inconsolable. Sometimes he wondered what on earth had possessed him to be the Head of any House; after all, dealing with children wasn't his strong suit.

_She's not really a child anymore, Severus, and it could be worse. Remember after Lily when you drowned your sorrows in bottles of alcohol? She could be doing that. _

He pried the girl off the couch, but her legs refused to hold her up, and he carried her, bridal style, down to the same place he'd taken her last week. Delicately he put her on the couch, handed her a handkerchief, but didn't pull out a bottle. A drink every now and then might help her, but in this state it couldn't do much good.

Not knowing what to say he just sat and watched her, and finally asked about the memories.

The Slytherin part of her raged and she threw herself at him, and although she was harmless, he had to pull her fingers out of his robes and take her arms to stand her up straight.

If there was anyone who could be called the Slytherin Princess, it would be her. Pansy Parkinson had nothing on this girl. Carina was pretty, in the way that most girls are pretty but not stunning. She was smart, a nerd to the extreme, and had few friends. But it was the way she carried herself, the way she acted, that made her Slytherin Princess.

She sauntered, strutted, as if everything behind her was blowing up, as if everyone she passed was going to turn and stare in admiration, as if everyone and everything in front of her was going to move out of the way. Her brain was on display in everything but Transfiguration, a class she stumbled through like his wife on a broom. And most amazingly for anyone in Slytherin, she was kind.

That kindness, that belief that she should do good to every living thing, had been what attracted that boy's friendship, had been what kept him around even after they were sorted into different Houses.

Now she had buried the boy, buried her best friend just as he had, only much, much sooner. How bitter would he be if he was in her shoes? How much guilt would he put on himself? After all, he took full responsibility for Lily's death, and he had been a grown man then, fully capable of blaming himself.

How old was the girl standing in front of him? Most fifth years were fifteen, or at least coming up on their fifteenth birthday; the boy had been the same age.

With tears flowing down her face she asked something of him he wasn't sure he could do. She asked him to take away her memories.

It was instant refusal, but she was pleading. It would make her happier, she said, and she had the good memories, she just didn't want to remember he was dead, didn't want to remember the funeral or anything.

His wife had tiptoed out at the sound of crying, and she came and sat the girl down on the couch. They began talking quietly, and Severus was again astounded by what women could do. Somehow the girl was consoled and sent back to bed, memories intact, and he fell (figuratively) in gratitude at his wife's feet.

He kissed her on the cheek, the first ounce of real physical affection since Christmas. She rested her head on his shoulder and put her arms tentatively around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

School started again, and it was the first time Professor Snape did not stand, breathing down students' necks, demanding they turn in pages of essays. And when Carina was one day late turning in her essay, it was the first time he ever accepted late work.


	6. Chapter 8

**Hey everybody! Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing, and for putting up with the story to get this far. I hope you guys like this chapter—it's one of my favourites. Hermione is officially going to have a girl, as the odds ended up being 5/1. Now, enjoy everybody! :D**

**-Dreama**

They'd been married for three months now, Hermione had been counting. In three more months she had to produce proof of a pregnancy, which basically meant getting a licensed mediwitch to sign off on it. Three months to get pregnant, which may have seemed like a lot of time, expect for the fact that they'd had sex every week for three months straight- twelve weeks- and she wasn't pregnant yet. So how did that fair for her getting pregnant in another three months? Suppose something was wrong with her, or Severus, and they couldn't have a child?

The thought of being unable to produce a child was horrific. She had never planned out her life to include children, just assuming that marriage and a baby (or two) would come naturally, eventually. But she had never stopped to think that her body may be incapable of forming or carrying a fetus, something a feminine body had been designed to do. That would mean she had failed, failed both herself and her husband and the wizarding community.

That Saturday as they pulled their clothes on, Hermione voiced her fears. He stared at her, incredulous, as if the thought had either never occurred to him, or she was amazingly base for having just thought of such an issue.

"I've been keeping you from getting pregnant. A baby in the middle of the school year would do no one any good." Before she could stop herself, she reached over and slapped him across the face, tears coming to her eyes.

"How could you do that? We couldn't have at least talked about it? Contraception is against the law, and you've been forcing it on me, do you think the Ministry will believe that? How dare you!" She slapped him again for good measure and turned to flee, tears threatening to spill over lids. But Snape grabbed her hand and pulled her backwards with such force she tumbled back onto the bed, landing where everything had been fine just moments ago, where they'd just enjoyed each other.

"Hermione please—"

"How could you do that?" She was crying now, a hand desperately clutching her abdomen. "How could you drug me and not tell me? I'm you're wife, you're WIFE, and you...you don't even care." He tried to pull her to him, to soothe her or explain himself, but she shoved him away, burying her face in the pillows, her arms wrapped protectively around the body she had thought was useless.

She didn't know how long she stayed there, buried in the pillows. After a little while she stopped crying but stayed face down, breathing heavily, her mind reeling and processing and trying to figure out what to do now.

_This was his way of trying to keep us both happy, of being in control of an uncontrollable situation. He has his reasons, he does._

But she was furious, and she had a right to be. If they had at least talked about it, brought up the idea of an undetectable potion, and she had said yes or even no, then they had at least talked about it, she would have at least known some potion, some option, existed. Yet here she was, stuck not knowing when exactly he had been slipping her something to keep her belly from swelling, thinking it was such a good idea.

Finally she pulled her head out of the feathers and cloth, took some deep breathes, wiped her eyes. Severus stood in the doorway as if he had been there the whole time, unsure what to do, and so he had simply contributed his presence, nothing more, nothing less.

"I can explain myself," he began softly, daring to sit on the edge of the bed. He was only half dressed, his scarred chest bare, and she was the same, a shirt quickly thrown over her head but nothing more. She pushed her wild curls out of her eyes to listen—wild from when Severus had grabbed them and tugged, less than half an hour ago, with her under him.

"You wouldn't have liked the idea, I knew, you wouldn't have liked defying the law or keeping yourself from having a baby. But I couldn't let you get pregnant so fast and have to go around school like that, to have to take you're NEWT's like that. And I couldn't have dealt with a child so soon; I wanted to wait as long as possible.

"Every night you have a mug of tea right before bed, and so I...subtly as I could, started slipping a contraceptive potion every Friday night. It 24 hours, and doesn't have a flavor, so I thought everything would be fine. I never imagined that...this, would happen."

Of course he had thought up perfectly legitimate reasons for everything, but that didn't make her any less upset. Gently, he moved her head to his shoulder, putting his arms around her back.

"I'm sorry, dear, I am." Always apologizes it seemed, always something he had done wrong that he had to say sorry for. She knew she wasn't the perfect wife, but he was most definitely not the perfect husband.

_He took care of you after Christmas even though you shut him out. You've done things wrong too, you know. _

She lifted her face from his shoulder.

"We have to stop taking the potion. I...I need to have a baby, and we don't have a lot of time to have one. I know you don't like the idea of a child, but the Ministry said it was mandatory, so I—"

He shushed her delicately. "No more potions, then. Our check-up is scheduled soon anyway, and even though I've made it to be undetectable, we'll, the Ministry has excellent equipment."

The check-up came in two weeks, just enough time for the potion it get out of her system. They poked and prodded and asked why she wasn't pregnant yet, to which she blushed and said it just hadn't happened. Severus told her about the same thing had happened to him.

Severus took it upon himself to pull her into a bedroom twice a week. Twice a week, usually Wednesday and Saturday, he would kiss her and convince her. Not that it took much convincing, because she needed a baby and didn't particularly despise evenings in bed with her husband anymore—in fact she was enjoying them, and although that frightened her, she knew deep down somewhere it was true.

She always felt a little guilty the next morning, especially on the rare occasion that she had Potions in the morning. He would avoid looking at her, she could tell, and she would avoid looking at him. If he _had_ to talk to her, and once or twice she knew that he had _had_ too, it was a mumble, nothing much, and not even a full sentence.

Today she sat beside Harry and Ron and tried to ignore the man at the front of the room, instead focusing on the directions and beginning to make the potion.

Normally she would always pay attention, even if things were awkward, but now all she could see when she looked at him was last night. Last night when he was on top of her, pulling her this way and that, kissing her, his hands places no professors hands should go, and his mouth following (not to mention other parts of his anatomy she shouldn't be thinking about in class. Right now she was his student, remember?)

He didn't say anything when she didn't look at him, probably because he wasn't looking at her to see. Potions seemed longer than normal but she was able to focus on the potion, concentrate on ingredients and such.

Harry and Ron were polite enough not to comment about it at lunch. That was a surprising effect of her marriage—the boys had become amazingly polite, at least around her. They didn't gossip about Snape or call him a 'greasy git' or the 'bat of the dungeons' anymore (mainly because she would yell at them and refuse to help them with schoolwork). They had stopped asking her all the awkward questions that went along with being married and treated her as they always had.

The girls were great too. She and Ginny had stopped the affair after Lucius happened, which had been an awkward explanation. The red head had popped down to the dungeons one afternoon in January and Hermione had politely refused, saying she could barely have intercourse with her husband anymore, that she couldn't even think about sex to make a baby, much less sex for pleasure.

Luna was still her wonderful quirky self. She'd invited them all down to hang out on a weekend or two, but they'd always refused. After what happened between Ginny and her it was understandable, and Luna spoke for the group when she said knowing Snape lived there was just too weird.

Classes in general were still normal, and the other professors still treated her like any other student.

That Saturday they barely got down to their rooms after dinner before he had his hands around her waist and was kissing her neck. She kissed him back, took his hand and went to their bedroom. It was now 'their'—they were planning on converting the second room for the theoretical baby.

She unbuttoned his shirt and he yanked hers off as well. His hands stripped her of her clothes before she got to his pants, but when she was naked she put her fingers to his zipper.

He pulled her onto the bed, pushing his own pants off but leaving her down near his hips. For a brief moment he leaned down and kissed her, and then made a request she never thought he would make.

"Maybe you could...take it in your mouth for a bit." Her eyes flew to meet his, incredulous, unbelievable of what he was asking. He backpedaled.

"You don't have to, really, but..." But she knew he wanted her too, knew he would like it, even if she didn't want to.

"We'll go slow, I promise, and you don't have to shove it down your throat or anything." Timidly she took him in her hand and guided him to her lips. She planted a kiss on the head, eliciting a chuckle from her husband, before taking him in her mouth, wrapping her hand around what she couldn't fit.

He hissed, causing her to smile a bit, but she was relieved when he didn't put his hand on the back of her head or grip her curls, which would force more of him into her mouth.

She only sucked him until he was hard and then stopped, but he seemed satisfied. She straddled him, taking by right the fact that she got to be on top this time.

Or at least she would have, if the very taste of him in her mouth hadn't made her gag at that precise moment. She swung her legs off of him and ran to the bathroom, him hustling after her and asking what on earth was the matter.

After her dinner had been emptied into the circle of porcelain he didn't ask her to come back to bed. Instead she brushed her teeth and pulled on pajamas and he wrapped his arms around her, soothing them both to sleep.

That night was only the beginning of a week of illness, her stomach demanding a toilet in her waking hour and when she smelled or tasted certain things. She thought she'd wound up with an acute stomach virus and treated it as such, but Severus wasn't so sure.

After a week she finally went to the infirmary, her husband right beside her. Madam Pomfrey asked a few questions and then demanded that Snape leave and Silenced the curtain, saying they were going to have a woman talk.

She was pregnant. Not a question from the older mediwitch, but a statement—the tender breasts, persistent stomachache, and other symptoms all made sense now.

Madam Pomfrey said Snape could come back around the curtain and then left them alone. Severus raised his eyebrow at her, silently questioning the content of the 'woman's talk'. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and patted the spot next to her, which he occupied.

"Well, we're going to have a baby."


	7. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone! To those of you in the States, happy late Memorial Day, and thank you if you have somehow served the United States. Also, Maya Angelou died this morning, so let her RIP. Feel free to leave some comments—what you like, what you don't, etc. Enjoy! **

**-Dreama**

Snape was doing something he had not done in a while—pacing. He was in his private lab, staring at the stone floor, the lights on low so Hermione wouldn't know he was in here, quietly freaking out.

He didn't want a child, had never wanted children after Lily. Yet now he had been coerced into it by the Ministry, by both of the people he was forced to answer to.

He would be a terrible father, he knew. He'd never had a good example of what a real father was—his own father, when he had been around, was a lazy alcoholic and abusive; Lucius was a father but not a dad, and if he wanted to be anything, he wanted to be _dad._

It didn't really matter what the baby called him, maybe it wouldn't be dad, maybe papa or something else. As long as when he (or she) got older they didn't start calling him by his first name, as he'd done with his own father. Until eleven his father had been papa, and then, when he'd gotten his Hogwarts letter, when he knew he was magic and was finally leaving, he dared to call his father Tobias.

That had earned him one of the marks on his back, and he had ridden the Hogwarts Express for the very first time with stinging flesh.

He had promised himself that he would never beat his children, or his wife, but besides that, what was he supposed to do? Merlin, did this mean he was going to have to read parenting books?

Of course Hermione would know what to do; Hermione, who was now radiating happiness and wanting to discuss baby names, Hermione who had asked if he wanted a boy or a girl and he said he didn't really care (though he secretly preferred a boy, an heir, a son). Hermione who had a thousand and one questions about pregnancy and baby's, and for some reason those questions made her sad.

She had explained it to him that night; the first night they knew she was pregnant. He'd come out of the bedroom after a shower, found her staring at an unmoving photograph of her parents. It had taken little prompting for her to spill her story.

He hadn't thought her capable of Obliviating her own parents, even if it was for their own good. That explained why she hadn't brought up her family around Christmas, why she hadn't asked to see them over the holidays.

Yet now she was mourning the loss of them, and he did his best to comfort her. He had never truly loved his parents, maybe cared for his mother somewhat. But Hermione had loved and been loved by her parents, something he envied, and something he knew she would miss.

All he could do now was try and figure out this parenting thing as best he could. He had observed a few parents out and about in public—holding infants tenderly, saying patiently to toddlers and primary schoolers that no; they could not have two scoops of ice cream.

He watched his wife carefully for the first two months, although Poppy said she was six weeks along at the first diagnosis. Six weeks isn't a lot for a baby, and so he watched her carefully for any signs of discomfort, of miscarriage.

She was fine though—if throwing up every morning, feeling nauseous all day, being irritable, and having swollen, tender sore breasts was 'fine'. He couldn't really help though, besides staying out of her way and being kind to her.

Kind was very foreign to him, but he pulled it out for her, for the health and happiness of the fetus. No need for there to be screaming around the baby when it wasn't even in the world yet.

Of course being overly kind to her meant he was even more irritable to his students—if they thought he was hard to handle before, he was impossible now. Only Carina could deal with him, only for Hermione and Carina would he be somewhat pleasant, would he bite back a sneer and be close to polite.

Carina was only getting worse. He found her at all hours of the day and night, scribbling in ink black as blood all over notebooks. Once or twice he had asked to see what she was writing so persistently, had peeked over her shoulder at her words. She had shrieked and pushed him away, saying they were her words and for her eyes only.

He just wanted to make sure she was okay, that was all; like begot like, suicide prompted suicide, and he didn't want that to happen. It would be a permanent solution to the temporary problem of pain inside, only cause more pain for everybody else left.

There were still nights, less frequent, where he got called down to the common room because of her. He should have been frustrated, angry, should have snapped at her because he was losing sleep, which was a very valuable commodity.

But he couldn't bring himself to do that because he knew that would hurt her.

_You've gone soft, Severus, not wanting to hurt anyone or anything._

His thoughts couldn't dwell too long though, because just as he was about to slip under the sheets next to his wife, his arm burnt. The hiss that escaped between his teeth woke Hermione and he went over, holding his arm, and kissed her. She didn't need an explanation when she saw how he was clenching his flesh, jaw working to keep silent.

The Dark Lord seemed all too pleased to have interrupted everyone's night. Severus sat down with a huff, glaring around the room.

It was a raid that night, outside Aberfeldy on unsuspecting Muggles. They decimated the tiny suburb, throwing around the Unforgivable curses and laughing at the torture and death clotting the sidewalks. Severus pointed his wand unwillingly at the crying victims, his intestines roiling as body after body fell lifeless, eyes unseeing, skin unfeeling.

Bellatrix screeched with laughter at her torture, Muggles writhing on the pavement, some in so much pain their mouths were open but nothing came out, others screaming themselves hoarse. Severus walked down the road, trying to get away, but spotted one last place of residence.

This would be the last house, on the outskirts of the village and getting too close to the actual main town of Aberfeldy. He blasted through the door and instantly regretted it.

A woman sat, her arms resting protectively around a swollen belly. She didn't beg nor plead, but she didn't have to—her eyes did the begging for her.

He swallowed thickly, wanting to leave the woman or transport her somewhere safe, out of the danger that these innocents procured.

Perhaps he could—after all, this was the outskirts, no one would come behind him to check if he had actually killed the woman. He could Apparate with her to London maybe, or somewhere in Europe, and nobody would be the wiser.

Except then Lucius decided to grace the place with his presence, and he didn't even spare a glance at the woman. His wand was up and a shot of green light hit her in the chest and she fell, motionless, two lives gone. Lucius left just as silently as he had entered.

After they sent the Dark Mark into the sky over the town they Apparated away. By the time he finally got back to his quarters he was soaked with sweat, shaking, and bile threatening to boil out of his stomach any second.

It wasn't yet morning when he collapsed onto the sofa in his living room, drained and feeling more than a little ill. He called Alvar and asked him to retrieve a Potion for him which helped settle his stomach, and then he sent about trying to rest a little on the couch.

But his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't unbutton his shirt, and he was not going to call his house elf to help him with _that_.

Apparently Alvar had woken up Hermione, either by accident or on purpose, and she crept out to him, still in her nightclothes.

It was June, and she had the smallest of bumps beginning to stretch her skin. He felt it when she hugged him, asked if he was okay, to which he could only shake his head. They went into the bedroom and she helped him out of his clothes and into pajamas and they settled into the bed.

They didn't sleep though—he was too wound up and she was too worried to let them sleep, and so they stayed awake. She held his hand under the covers, the other hand on her stomach, and she prattled about babies and such.

He just closed his eyes and listened, tried to lose himself in the nothingness. But the alarm clock rang too soon (light did not flood the dungeons) and they sat up, groggy. Severus turned then and took his wife's hands in his.

"Hermione I need you to promise me, should something happen while I am in the Dark Lord's realms, you will not try to come and find me. I want you to promise that you will protect yourself and the baby no matter what." She stared at him as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

"You...you can't possibly expect me not to even look for you, or send someone to look for you. We're...we're married, the baby needs a father, and I couldn't just let my husband go."

"I don't want anyone to come to harm because of me."

"No matter what I'm going to protect the baby, but I would at least send someone to look for you. Wouldn't you send someone to look for me?" He backpedaled, dropped her hands.

"My looking for or sending someone to look for you is an entirely different scenario than you looking for me." He paused and took a breath, clutching her hands again. "Just promise me that should anything happen you'll keep yourself and the child safe." She nodded and leaned forward to wrap her arms around him.

She had practically climbed in his lap to hug him and he wrapped his arms around her and held her silently for a moment before slipping a hand down onto her stomach.

"Do we know what this one is yet? I was hoping for a boy." She lifted her head up and smiled.

"We find out next month, when I'm twenty weeks." He nodded and they moved around the room, showering and pulling clothes on in a well-practiced symphony before heading up to breakfast.

He found himself worrying about his wife very much these days, what with her being pregnant. She was stressed about NEWTS and that couldn't be good for a child, but she couldn't be exempt either.

So even though he technically wasn't supposed to, he was helping her with homework in the evenings in the name of her health. She wasn't protesting—work was tiring her out easier these days, she was beginning to eat and sleep a little more too.

He was still terribly frightened about being a father, but he related it to his first few years as a professor. Eventually, though mistakes would be made, he would figure it out. Hermione would be the same way, as she had told him she had only the smallest advantage on him in the parenting department.

So now, as he stood in his Potions classroom, for the first time in a very long time, he was thinking toward the future. And it was possibly a happy one.


	8. Chapter 10

**Hi guys! Thanks again for reading, and for all the reviews. I'm so excited that so many people have read my story and like it. We're almost to the end, too. Enjoy!**

**-Dreama **

Today was the big day. It was Saturday, a perfect, sapphire blue sky and just warm enough to be comfortable. Hermione had woken up, showered, charmed her clothes to fit, and then waited impatiently for Severus to be ready for breakfast. She was hungry, which wasn't new, because these days she was getting hungry quickly.

They went to Madam Pomfrey that afternoon. She rolled up her shirt and Severus sat next to her, knee's bent and leg going as he waited for Poppy to declare the gender. Hermione smiled nervously and folded her arms under her breasts, waiting.

Madame Pomfrey pointed her wand at her belly and the tip of the wood glowed pink. Pink for a girl, for a little feminine body inside her own. She smiled, glowing, at the mediwitch, who returned the smile.

Severus didn't say a word. He was silent when he took her hand to help her down from the table, not letting it go until they were back in their private rooms.

She wasn't sure what to do—she couldn't if tell he was angry, he was so stone-faced. He had wanted a boy, she knew, and now he would be stuck with a girl.

But when they sat down on the sofa, he took her hand and said the furthest thing possible from what was on her mind.

"Can we put the name Eileen in there somewhere?" She had been stunned by his suggestion, and so he had explained it during her shock.

"That was my mother's name, and while she might not have been the perfect mother she was much better than my father. And I always liked the idea of...of naming my daughter after her. If I ever had one, that is." She smiled and took his hand; put it on her belly for him to feel the little girl move.

"Eileen sounds like a wonderful name. First or middle?" He thought for a little while, rubbed his hand over the taut skin of her stomach.

"A middle name I think, I couldn't bring myself to call her that every day." She nodded and smiled.

"Well Eileen for a middle name, what for the first name? I mean we still have time to talk about it, but we could brainstorm." They started throwing out names then and Hermione wrote them down, although it would be hard to pick. Livia, Japhette, Lyriana, Augusta, and more, but Eileen stayed the favourite for the middle name.

"What about your mother?" He suggested, and she looked down, rubbed her belly again and propped her feet up.

"Her name was Jean, which is how I got my middle name. I don't think that will work well here in the wizarding world. Besides, I like some of the others better. If she were here..." she bit her lips and started again. "If she were here she wouldn't want a baby named after her." He nodded slowly.

In the middle of the night she woke up to a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. She breathed deeply once, twice, and then reached for Severus's hand, gripping it tightly.

He woke up instantly at her touch and she whispered what was the matter. One hand went to her stomach and another was pulling the sheets off and tugging her nightgown up to see the source of the problem.

There was blood coloring her thighs and staining the sheets, slowly but steadily. She couldn't see but he choked out what was happened, and then ran to the fireplace in the other room and stuck his head in the flames, roaring for Madam Pomfrey.

The mediwitch arrived promptly and went right to Hermione. Severus was pacing into and out of the room while the young girl lay on the bed, a hand on her stomach, desperate to know what was happening.

Madam Pomfrey spelled charms she never knew existed and Severus poured Potions into goblets that she had never seen. It felt like hours later, when the chaos finally ceased and the blood was staunched.

Severus practically had to force Dreamless Sleep down her throat afterward, and she was instantly out.

In the morning she woke up groggy but pain free, and Severus was asleep next to her. Gingerly she sat up, one hand on her belly, and pushed the hair from her face.

She felt her husband stir then, and looked over her shoulder to see him wake up and then move so he was sitting next to her. One of his hands slipped down to rest on her stomach, and the other wrapped around her shoulders.

"You gave me quite the scare last night." She rested her head against his shoulder and moved so she was leaning against him.

"She's okay, right?" He nodded, her head under his chin. She turned to face him.

"Can we just stay inside today?" He smiled a little and leaned forward to kiss her delicately, whispering in affirmative.

So they stayed in their private rooms all day, reading and doing nothing. Several times she would look up and grin at him, and he would slowly smile back. They took their meals together, and although there were silences, it was relaxing silence.

Telling her friends she was pregnant and it was a girl had been the hardest part of the whole pregnancy—they had been forced to slowly accept that she was married to a professor, but having children was a whole new concept. At first they were upset, slightly indigent, but after some explaining and insisting, they came around. They were friends, wonderful friends, and a Marriage Law wasn't going to come between them.

While Severus had been all for her going to university, but terms started in September and she was six months pregnant at the time, so they decided to postpone a year. Most people to gap years anyway, and it would give her some time with baby, time to be a mum, before finishing her education.

Hogwarts still started in September, and Severus would teach. Hermione assisted in his private laboratory, making potions for the infirmary and gathering ingredients. The students who knew her and were friends or acquaintances greeted her when they saw her, and she still sat with Ginny and the now 7th years at the Gryffindor table—very little could persuade her to sit at the professors table with her husband.

By Christmastime she was too pregnant to be of great assistance, and they went to the mansion again. She spent most of the break with her legs propped up to keep her ankles from swelling and charming her clothing to fit comfortably. Not just her ankles had swollen, but also her stomach (obviously) and her breasts. Alvar was wonderfully accommodating, bringing her a glass of water or book if she needed it, as getting out of a seat was difficult once she had settled in.

Poppy had told her she was due January 26th, but she woke up on the 21st to the baby kicking terribly hard. Those hard kicks turned to cramps very quickly, and she shook Severus awake.

He seemed to understand what was wrong and ran to the fireplace and roared for Madam Pomfrey, then came back in and settled on the bed, looking very worried. She smiled back—the cramps really weren't that bad, at least not yet. They would get worse later, she was sure, at least from what she read about labor she had gleaned that information.

The mediwitch showed up and found a calm wife and anxious husband, checked how dilated the girl was, and turned to Severus.

"She's really not that far along yet; I'll come back in an hour to check on her again." The man stared at her.

"You joking, she's in labor woman!" Hermione called to him from the bed.

"My water hasn't even in broken yet, it's nothing serious, so the baby won't come for several more hours most likely." His head whipped back and forth between the two women who were trying to nod encouragingly.

"So...what am I supposed to do?" Poppy grasped the man's shoulder lightly for a moment.

"Wait," she said, "and I'll be back soon enough, don't worry." She left then, and Hermione reached for her husband's hand.

It did take several hours, with Poppy coming and checking in every so often. Once she was close (at around eight in the morning) the woman stayed, and at ten o'clock she delivered a seven pound baby girl.

Once she was clean and her vitals recorded the little girl was handed off to her mother, who was covered in sweat but smiling ever so slightly. She took her daughter in her arms and looked down at the sweet looking baby.

The little girl was beautiful, but don't all mothers think that? She had curly black hair covering her head and blue eyes—but those would change, all babies did. A little rosebud mouth that would stretch into a smile and alabaster skin. A perfect baby.

Severus had been invited back into the room, although Hermione hadn't noticed that he'd left. He came to her side and leaned down, met the babe's gaze.

"Well, what shall we name her?" He straightened up and then settled into a chair next to the bed. Eileen would be her middle name, of course, but what would be her first name? They'd debated for a while about it, but looking at her daughters angelic features, she knew.

"Lyriana, Lyriana Eileen Snape." She kissed her brow as the baby wriggled. Poppy spoke up from the foot of the bed.

"You'll probably have to nurse her soon; do you want me to show you how to do that?" She had read about how to breastfeed, but having someone actually show her what to do might be helpful, so she nodded.

Severus coughed awkwardly next to her and she looked up to see him pink faced and moving to leave.

"Why are you leaving? You've seen them before, it's nothing new." Poppy called as he ducked into the doorway, and he only cast her a glance and closed it firmly behind him.


	9. Chapter Eleven

**Hey everybody, thanks for reading! This is the last chapter, so I hope you enjoy. I know there's a lot going on in the world-the bombing at the university in Iraq, the continued upheaval in Ukraine, and other world problems. I hope this helps brighten your day a little. **

_One Year Later_

It was the summer, and Severus had taken his family on vacation to the Irish seaside. So far everyone was having a good time—Lyriana was giggling and playing in waves and Hermione was looking like a goddess sunning herself.

Now Severus himself didn't really enjoy the seaside, as there was an awful lot of sunlight, and being outside, etc. However he knew Hermione enjoyed vacation and he had tried to take her on at least one vacation every year since they'd been married. They'd gone to Croatia last year during the summer and to the mansion again for Christmas. Never had they gone to the seaside, though.

So here they were, him grudgingly worn down by her begging of 'let's go to the beach'. At least it had been good weather (as good a weather as you can have in Ireland) and everyone had maintained a fair mood.

They were in their rented cottage in County Kerry, playing with Lyriana indoors since it was raining. She was wriggling and wiggling and making those delightful little happy noises that babies make when the play. But then she scooted herself on her bottom, grabbed a fistful of Severus's hair, and cooed.

"Dada," His eyes shot down as she tugged on his hair and smiled, and his own face lit up with a grin. He swept her up in his arms.

"Yes sweetheart, I'm Dada, and _you_ are so smart." Hermione got up off the floor and came to them kissed her daughter on the head and took her in her arms, congratulating her on her first word.

That first word became a spark for others, and by the end of the week she had spat out her second word—potions. Or it sounded more like 'podgins', but they figured it out. Severus hadn't laughed that loud in a long time. The name "Muma' didn't come until later, by at least a week.

_Two Years Later_

The war finally came when Lyriana was three, though she wouldn't remember it. Her mother and father fought in their own ways—her father as a spy who barely survived, her mother as a source of information and contact for two boys who went off into the wilderness to hunt horcruxes.

Different sources say it lasted different lengths, but it most definitely ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, which both parents fought in. Her daddy nearly died, having been bit by a poisonous snake. Her mummy lost people she loved but survived physically unscathed. Lyriana herself stayed out of harm's way staying with a house elf named Kreacher at number 12.

When the war was over life was different for a little while for the girl. They couldn't live at Hogwarts for a while, so they stayed at the mansion. But the school reopened and they moved back within a year (magic rebuilds pretty fast).

Years later she would look through a scrapbook and point at pictures—a couple where the girl had different coloured hair, and he was older and there was a baby, but she only knew the baby; a red headed boy with a twin, and she only knew one twin; an old man whom she'd never met, and others.

So the war affected her in ways, but not like it affected the older generations. She never met her grandparents, and when she asked why later, her mother explained about a spell to keep them safe that hadn't ended right.

When she asked about them getting married, they had sat down and told her about a law to increase the number of children, and so they had wed. They told her they were very much in love now, but not at first. That they were very happy how things had turned out.

The war for her would be explanations and textbooks, not bitter and sorrowful memories, but that was far better.

_Four Years Later_

Technically, she should have been in school, at least by muggle standards. But she was kept at Hogwarts, as her parents and other professors taught her, and she read avidly. This was the year her mother graduated, as education had been postponed by both her birth and the war.

Both her parents were professors now—her mother taught Transfiguration (McGonagall was the Headmistress) and her father taught Potions.

The girl loved Potions. At seven she helped in his private lab and went with him to the apothecary to get new supplies. She would set up the classroom but was never allowed in during class—except once.

Hermione was pregnant that year too, only ten weeks along, and she had started bleeding profusely after using the toilet. The child had run into her father's classroom anxiously when he was in the middle of a lecture.

He turned to her, patient as he could be and lowered his voice.

"Lyriana I'm in the middle of class, and I've told you many times not to interrupt me. Please go back to your mother." Those dark eyes of hers got wide and she shook her head.

"You don't understand Daddy—" His head swung back and he pinched his lips together, the Seventh Years watching, waiting.

"I _said_ young lady, please go back with your mother, I'm very busy, I have class going on. I'll see you during lunch." She was allowed to sit with her parents at the professors table for meals, something she greatly enjoyed. Finally, eyebrows bent, she moved forward and tugged on his robes.

"Mummy's _bleeding_," she cried quietly, and he turned to her slowly, as if not wanting to believe what she was saying. Then he ushered her back into his private quarters and slammed the door shut, ignoring his class.

He found Hermione in their bedroom, her face ashen. She turned her head toward the sound of the door opening and lifted her hand, beckoning him closer.

"Thank Merlin you're here. Call Poppy, I think," one hand tightened on her abdomen, "I think there's something wrong with the baby." Lyriana went to her mother's side as her father left.

"Can I help Mummy?" She shook her head with a tired smile.

"No sweetheart, right now I just need you to go keep yourself occupied quietly until we figure out what's going on." She ran her fingers through her daughters long black curls before sending her off.

Needless to say, the baby didn't make it.

_Four Years Later_

She was eleven already. It was August, and in two weeks she would be formally attending Hogwarts, which her parents just couldn't believe. They lay next to each other in bed whispering about how time flies.

Lyriana had developed her first crush over the summer, which had sent her father into a panic. Hermione had gone to the Weasley's and brought Lyriana along and caught up with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the others. The kids had talked, and they were already friends. But once they'd taken the floo back and were waiting for her father to come down so they could all have dinner together, the eleven year old admitted to having a crush on James, Harry and Ginny's eldest son.

She had quietly informed her husband of this latest development that evening after their daughter was in bed, and it had been quite the reaction. They had been sitting on the loveseat drinking tea, reading books and talking, and he spat his tea out and turned to stare at her.

It certainly didn't help that the crush was on his old nemesis's child. The irony was laughable to Hermione, but certainly not to her husband.

Now though, they were in the process of buying books and cauldrons, would certainly stop by the wand shop soon and let a wand pick her, and maybe get her a broom if she asked. Only the letter remained to be received.

That priceless letter was brought down a week later and presented from the Headmistress straight into the hands of the lucky girl. The older woman smiled at the grinning child.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

**Well, this is it. I hope you liked the story, including all the edits and everything. It's been fun and challenging. Leave me some love in the form of reviews! Thanks again.**

**-DreamaLirit **


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