I am not a Snape/Hermione shipper. In fact, the whole time I was writing this story I felt as though Snape were cheating on my OFC Clancy Norgard from Highly Improbable. If you like Snape/Hermione stories, then please read on. If, however, the pairing squicks you, feel free to skip it. Hermione is 25 years old in this tale, so there is no hint of a student/teacher relationship. I wrote this only to participate in a writing challenge, the rules of which are listed below. Despite my reservations about the ship, I had a great deal of fun writing this, much to my surprise, and I hope you will enjoy reading it. There is much more repartee than romance, so even if you are not a Snape fan, I think you’ll be able to handle it.
This story was entered in the Sycophant Hex: Spring Faire Festival under the General Story: I Want to Kiss the Bride.
The criteria is below:
Summary: Hermione is about to get married when a certain Potions master realizes she should marry him instead. He has forty-eight hours to stop the wedding and get her to marry him.
Rules:
1. Severus Snape is to be portrayed by Severus Snape. He does not have really silky hair. His nose is hooked, not aquiline. In other words, keep Snape as close to canon as possible, in both appearance, and characterization.
2. Snape does not kill the other canon male involved (i.e. potential groom).
3. Snape does not snatch Hermione away from the wedding or some other such rubbish.
4. Snape is not to be turned into any of the following:
- Mr. Darcy
- A fluffy bunny
- A sap
Notes:
1. Hermione's potential groom may be any other canon character.
2. Any characters can be enlisted to help Severus in his endeavor.
3. Genre up to the author. The story can be comedy, angst, drama, or any other combination the writer chooses.
4. Hermione does not have to end up marrying Snape.
5. All standard SH rules and submission policies apply.
The Futility of Reason is an Honorable Mention by the Wizengamot.
“Logicians have but ill defined
As rational the human mind.
Logic, they say, belongs to man,
But let them prove it if they can.”
~ Oliver Goldsmith
*~~~*~~~*
Severus Snape crumpled his copy of the Daily Prophet in disgust and flung it into the fire. He spat into the flames for good measure before storming out of the dungeons.
I will not allow it, he vowed to himself, as he made his way across the castle green. Once he had passed through Hogwarts’ gates, he Disapparated with a ferocious pop.
Hermione Granger had almost finished packing for her honeymoon, even though her wedding was still forty-eight hours away. In a fit of indecision over lingerie, she paused when she heard a rap at her door. She crossed the room to open it.
“Professor Snape?”
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for stating the obvious and for greeting me slack-jawed.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s been “”
“Six years and I am the last person you expected to find at your doorstep.” His dark eyes probed her intently.
“Yes, how did you…oh, you must have “”
“Legilimency was unnecessary, I assure you. That was precisely the trite reaction I had anticipated. Now, am I invited in, or shall I deduct another ten points for your lack of manners?”
Hermione moved aside dumbly as Snape swept past her into the room. He paced in agitation for a moment before seating himself in a chair.
“Nonplussed for once in your life, Miss Granger? One lump, if you please.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione replied, as she closed the door and approached him guardedly.
“I take one lump of sugar with my tea. You are planning to play the part of the gracious hostess, aren’t you? It will be excellent practice for you before you assume the role formally after your nuptials.”
“Before I offer you tea, Professor, I would like to…”
“Yes, Miss Granger? Are you incapable of completing a thought?”
“I was conducting a test to see if you intended to jump in and do it for me.” Snape opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione cut in, “Touché, Miss Granger.”
Snape closed his mouth again, before arching his brow. “How did you know I was about to say that?”
“I spent five years in your Potions classroom, Professor, and one in Defence Against the Dark Arts “ totalling six long years. I know you just as well as you think you know me. In addition, I must confess I’ve always detested the ridiculous way you raise your eyebrow. I find it absurd, now, that your annoying mannerism actually used to intimidate me.”
Snape folded his arms and scowled.
“Oh, well done! After you perform your requisite sneer and lip curl, I will have seen your entire repertoire of facial expressions. I am no longer your student, Professor. I am a woman of twenty-five with a successful career. Moreover, your threat to deduct house points is laughable.”
“I must compliment you on your keen discernment; it was intended as a joke.”
“Until this very moment, I was unaware that Hogwarts’ resident war hero and dungeons recluse made jokes. I suggest that in the future, you try out your humour first, in front of an impartial audience, to ensure that it is actually funny.”
“I have a dry wit, Miss Granger. I have jested with you in the past and you failed to recognize it then, as well.”
“I don’t suppose you are prepared to cite an example.”
“Have you ever known me to be unprepared? The most obvious illustration that comes to mind is an observation I made when you were a fourth year. Malfoy had just hit you with the Densaugeo Curse, as I recall.”
Hermione’s legs suddenly seemed unable to support her weight. She fell onto the sofa, stunned, for a time, into silence. When at last she spoke, she said, “All these years…I thought…you made me feel…you were always so…”
“If you insist upon speaking in ellipses, perhaps I’d better leave before I make the greatest blunder of my life.”
She frowned in confusion. “Why are you here, anyway?”
Snape sniffed. “You claim that you know me so well “ suppose you tell me.”
Hermione studied Snape for a moment. He had changed, but not for the better. His frame was thinner, his face gaunt, and a few grey hairs had taken up residence near his temples. Age had not softened his features. Now in his mid-forties, his teeth had yellowed to a deeper shade, and his hooked nose bore a pronounced scar from a Cruciatus Curse he had received during Voldemort’s defeat.
“I really can’t imagine why you’ve come to darken my door “ unless it’s to boast about being the latest wizard to be featured on a Chocolate Frog card. I’ve already seen one, by the way “ congratulations.”
“Thank you. The honour means a great deal to me. So much so, in fact, that whenever I catch my students attempting to poke holes in my likeness with their quills, I deduct fifty house points “ fifty for each puncture, to be precise.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that you’ve had one of the cards framed to display next to your Order of Merlin, Second Class.”
“First Class, Miss Granger.”
“My mistake. I suppose you wear yours at all times “ even to bed.”
“Quite the contrary. At present, it is in the bottom drawer of my bureau keeping company with my socks.”
“How cosy. I keep my Order of Merlin next to my knickers.”
Snape allowed his eyes to stray down her torso.
“In the drawer, I mean.”
“Thank you for providing clarification. First Class?” Snape inquired.
“No,” Hermione admitted, "Second Class.”
“Hmm. You disappoint me. I was hoping your taste in ladies’ undergarments would be more sophisticated.”
A mild giggle escaped from Hermione’s mouth. “Perhaps you are capable of humour, after all, Professor Snape. You still haven’t told me what brought you here, however.”
“I’ve come to wish you happiness in your future marriage “ while pointing out that you are making a momentous error,” he informed her evenly.
Hermione bristled. “And what error would that be?”
“Marrying a Weasley.”
“Charlie will make a fine husband, not that I feel the need to justify my choice to you. He’s certainly not the worst of the Weasley lot.”
“Is there a best?”
“May I ask why you have suddenly developed an interest in my personal affairs?”
“I merely wish to spare you from a lifetime of being ravaged by a brutish, one-dimensional simpleton with boots reeking of dragon muck.”
“Since you seem to have my best interests at heart, whom would you suggest as a more suitable alternative?”
“A better man stands before you.”
“Where?”
“Here!” Snape revealed, indicating himself.
“You’re seated.”
“A mere technicality.”
“Would you mind rising?”
Snape rose imperiously, and a smug smile raised the corners of his thin lips.
“Follow me, please,” she said sweetly.
She led him to the door and opened it. It dawned on Snape, at last, that Hermione was dismissing him.
“No tea?”
“No tea.”
“You will regret your folly, Miss Granger. I can envision you in a few years with brats clinging to your ankles and your belly as big as a barn. I shall not return.”
“Thank you. That disclosure brightens my day!” She ushered him out, barely missing his nose as she slammed the door.
“Trust your instincts. If you have no instincts, trust your impulses.”
~ Noel Coward
*~~~*~~~*
Later that evening, as Hermione prepared to retire, she heard a knock at her door. She slipped into her dressing gown and padded to the hall, as the rapping grew more insistent.
“Who’s there?” she inquired cautiously.
“Your last chance to find happiness, or at the very least, to attain intellectual enlightenment,” came the haughty reply in a hissing voice that was irritatingly familiar.
Against her better judgement, Hermione escorted the Potions master into her flat.
“A wise choice, Miss Granger. It is imprudent to fight the inevitable. And, it should be evident to you by now that I lied.”
“Then you admit that you are not a better man than Charlie Weasley?”
“I admit nothing of the kind. I lied when I said I wouldn’t be returning.”
“Sit down, Professor.”
Snape seated himself on the sofa; Hermione took the chair.
An awkward moment elapsed before she ventured, “I’ve been reflecting upon our earlier conversation and I can only draw one conclusion.”
“How limiting, but do proceed.”
“Either you are certifiably insane or someone has placed an Engorgement Charm on your ego.”
“Then you’ve misspoke. You have drawn two conclusions, both of which are erroneous. If the former were true, you would not have invited me in; if the latter were correct, I would be setting my sights higher.”
“I see,” Hermione huffed, offended.
“You see nothing at all, Miss Granger. Like the rest of your sex, you prefer an athletic build and a handsome face to an astute mind. Despite your intelligence and thirst for knowledge, you are no different from any other female. You have no depth, no vision. I pity you.”
“You’re quite mistaken, Professor. What a woman desires is kindness over callousness and sincerity over guile.”
“Tell me this: when the infatuation wears off, how do you plan to occupy your time? Moonlit dragon rides to the nearest lending library? Of course, your spouse will elect to remain outdoors tending to the transportation while you read up on untraceable poisons.”
“Charlie is very bright; he received excellent marks at Hogwarts.”
“As high as yours, Miss Granger?”
“Well, no,” she conceded, “but you know that yourself, so why ask the question?”
“To prove a point. When the attraction dies, Weasley will bore you; I never will.”
“You bore me now. Why the sudden interest? You’ve had years to state your intentions. Why today?”
“I dislike rushing into a decision, but your imminent marriage compels me to declare my feelings.”
“Feelings? What feelings? I’ve always taken you for a detached celibate.”
“You’re half right. I’ll leave it to you to deduce which half.”
Snape thought he saw a flicker of a smile on Hermione’s face.
“When, precisely, did your…feelings for me develop? Surely not when I was your student?”
Snape snorted loudly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miss Granger. I’m attracted to women, not insipid, giggling schoolgirls.” He scrutinized her carefully. “You almost qualify as a woman. In a few more years “”
“A few more years? I’m twenty-five years old! That more than qualifies me as an adult!”
“Perhaps it does, but only in the eyes of another twenty-five-year-old. The difference in our ages disquiets me, but I am willing to overlook it.”
“You are willing to overlook it?”
“Yes.” Snape elaborated, “Women of my own age have developed life experience, and with it, taste. Therefore, my only clear choice is to rob the cradle.”
“But, why me?”
“Shall we discuss it over tea?”
“It’s getting late. I’d rather go to bed.”
“Then by all means, let’s explore the future of our relationship in your boudoir.”
“You mistook my meaning, Professor.”
“And you, mine.”
She frowned. Snape wondered whether her frown was one of disappointment; Hermione was wondering the same thing.
Snape rose and started toward the door. “I’ll return in the morning for breakfast. Have it ready by eight o’clock, no later. Eggs, sausage, and…tea.”
Hermione gaped at him, flabbergasted.
“I trust you will receive me?”
“Certainly, Professor!” she assured him. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing twenty-four hours before my wedding than preparing breakfast for my fiancé and my new suitor. Charlie will be thrilled by your presence. It will surely be a scene evocative of a Molièresque farce.”
“Until tomorrow, then. It’s just as well that I be present when you tell him.”
“When I tell him what?”
“When you tell him that you intend to call off the wedding and elope with me, instead,” Snape explained patiently, as if the matter had already been settled.
With a stiff bow, Snape let himself out the door, leaving Hermione to question whether their encounter had been a complete hallucination.
“Conceit is an outward manifestation of inferiority.”
~ Noel Coward
*~~~*~~~*
On the morning preceding her nuptials, Hermione found herself setting the table for three.
Snape arrived fifteen minutes early and barged into the kitchen to inspect the food.
“Make certain that my eggs are well cooked,” he insisted.
“Charlie prefers them runny.”
“I prefer my eggs firm, and I can assure you that congealed yolks will not be the most severe disappointment Weasley will suffer this morning.”
“I’d love to see Charlie knock you flat on your arrogant arse with a Disarming Spell, Professor. But he won’t. He respects his elders.”
“I don’t expect Weasley to take this development well. I shall, however, endeavour to remain humble in my triumph.”
Weasley’s owl flew in the window and Snape intercepted the note attached to its leg. He unfolded it and began to read it aloud.
“Can’t make it, love. There’s been an accident. Ukrainian Ironbelly torched neighbouring farm. See you at the alter.”
Snape sniffed derisively. “It’s succinct, if not scintillating. He misspelled ‘altar’ “ a glaring indication that he will leave you unsatisfied in bed.”
“He hasn’t yet,” Hermione countered, “but at least now I am able to determine when you are joking.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Then you have overstepped your bounds,” Hermione said, as she removed one place setting from the table.
Seating himself, Snape clicked his fork impatiently against his plate, as if summoning a house-elf. “Where is my tea?”
“It’s still inside the tin in the cupboard. We’re having pumpkin juice.”
“I specified tea,” he reminded her.
“I know you did; that’s why we’re having pumpkin juice.”
After serving Snape his breakfast, Hermione reached for a quill and a scrap of parchment.
“Why are you dawdling at the window? Sit down so we can discuss our elopement.”
“I’m dashing off a note to Charlie. I’ll join you as soon as I send the owl on its way.”
“Excellent. The sooner you inform him of your change of heart, the better.”
Hermione finished her missive. She cleared her throat and began to read it for Snape’s benefit.
“I’m disappointed, but I understand. You’ll be seeing me sooner than you think, though. You’re expected at the ceremony rehearsal this evening, remember? Five o’clock “ please try to arrive on time. All my love, darling. PS, If you think a Ukrainian Ironbelly is a scorcher, just wait until our wedding night!”
After securing her reply to the owl’s leg, she shooed it out the window, and then joined Snape at the table.
“Too salty,” Snape complained, raking his fork through his eggs.
“I didn’t add any salt to the eggs “ unless you’re referring to the sausages.”
“I was referring to your postscript, Miss Granger. Subtlety is infinitely more erotic.”
“What do you know of eroticism or romance in general, for that matter?”
“You shall have to wait until our wedding night to learn the answer to that.” Snape continued to pick meticulously at his food.
Hermione speared a sausage and bit into it savagely. “Pardon my curiosity, but how does one draw a correlation between misspelling a word and leaving a woman unsatisfied in bed?”
“If a man is careless in one respect, he will be so in another. I, on the other hand, am a master of positions as well as of Potions.”
“Now who’s being obvious?”
“I am merely being truthful.”
“Before your veracity vanishes, suppose you tell me what prompted you to look me up after all these years.”
Snape placed his utensils on his plate and pushed it aside. He regarded Hermione earnestly. “The memory of a kiss, Miss Granger.”
Comprehension dawned as Hermione searched Snape’s eyes. For a moment, his façade dropped and was replaced by an intense look of yearning, laced with misery.
She recalled the last time they were alone together.
Harry had just defeated Voldemort. Snape had shielded her from a Cruciatus Curse and had taken it himself. Directly before that, he had disarmed Lucius Malfoy as he was about to hit her with the Killing Curse.
After Aurors had taken the last of the Death Eaters into custody, Hermione found Snape lying supine in the mud on the road outside Hogwarts. She had rushed to him, not knowing if he were alive or dead. Checking his wrist and his neck, she had thought she’d detected a weak pulse, but couldn’t be sure. Hermione had stayed with him until help arrived.
Smoothing his hair away from his face, she had leaned over him. “Thank you, Professor Snape,” she’d murmured before kissing him softly on the mouth. It had been a chaste kiss of compassion and gratitude, nothing more.
That’s why he’s here? He must have thought that I…oh, no! I owe him my life, but that’s no reason he should expect me to marry him!
“P-P-Professor Snape,” she stammered, “I thought you were unconscious at the time, perhaps dead. If I’d known you were awake, I never would have kissed you.”
“I see.” Snape rose. “Thank you for breakfast, Miss Granger…and for your honesty. I shall not trouble you further.” He proceeded toward the door.
“I’m sorry. Truly,” Hermione said quietly.
Snape paused, and then turned to face her. “Are you indeed?”
She nodded, studying her plate to avoid his eyes.
“Splendid. The Leaky Cauldron, lunch, one o’clock. Punctuality is preferred, but not presumed.”
Hermione looked up and stared at him, incredulous. “I have last minute errands to attend to this afternoon; the florist, the caterers “ the ceremony rehearsal is at five o’clock. I’m afraid it’s quite impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible - merely inconvenient.”
“Give me one good reason why I should show up.”
“I’ll provide you with three: you are flattered, you are intrigued by my persistence, and you are eager to see the ring.”
“You’ve bought me a ring?”
“Not yet, but I intend to procure one before we meet again.”
“Save your money, Professor.” Hermione rose to accompany him to the door.
“For our honeymoon?”
“For your old age.”
“For our old age,” Snape corrected. “We shall grow old together and reflect back upon cherished memories of study, research, and experimentation.”
“In your Potions lab?”
“In our bedchamber, Miss Granger.” Snape nodded farewell and exited.
Hermione watched him stride down the passageway. Of all the conceited, presumptuous…hmm. It is rather flattering, though. I’m curious what sort of ring a man like Snape might select. I suppose I could spare an hour just to appease him. After all, if it weren’t for him, she rationalized, we might not have won the war.
“Professor Snape?” she called.
He stopped abruptly, and then turned to address her. “Miss Granger?”
“I couldn’t possibly make it to the Cauldron before 1:45.”
“I will have finished dining by then, but I may linger “ briefly,” he replied, before disappearing down the stairs.
“If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.”
~ Oscar Wilde
*~~~*~~~*
Entering the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione scanned the room. Unable to locate Snape, she was astonished when her stomach knotted up in disappointment, although she did her best to convince herself that she was relieved.
She made an inquiry at the bar and was told that Snape had been seen heading out the back entrance toward Diagon Alley.
Hermione found a table and took a seat facing the rear of the pub. She checked her watch and noted the time. Looking up, she spotted Snape enter. He noticed her immediately and joined her.
“It’s 1:35. I’m ten minutes early.”
“As I see it, you are thirty-five minutes late,” Snape grumbled, taking a seat.
“Where were you “ in Diagon Alley shopping for my ring?” she asked flippantly.
“No, Miss Granger, and I will not be mocked. If you must know, I was leaning over a toilet, retching.”
“Are you ill?”
“I believe the malady from which I am suffering would qualify as an illness, yes.”
“Does it have a name?”
“It didn’t until your revelation at breakfast. I have decided to call it ‘foolitis’.”
“Foolitis?”
“Yes, I’ve been a fool. It seems I have pinned all my hopes on a misinterpreted kiss. I’ve taken the last several hours to consider your words, and I have decided that I no longer desire you. You would make a most unsuitable wife and a lamentable lover. Go off to your Weasleys; marry the lot of them. Marry a new one each year until you run out of Weasleys."
Snape rose from his chair before continuing his tirade. “It’s taken me six years to work up the… stupidity to propose to you, but only hours to regain my senses. May your future hold great promise and bring you all that you deserve: drooling infants, a mountain of mucky nappies, and the insidious, ennui-induced deterioration of your modest intellect. Good day, Miss Granger.”
He regarded her for a moment with contempt, and then hurried out of the pub.
“Good riddance!” Hermione muttered.
After wolfing down a quick sandwich, she set off to finish her errands.
Dishevelled and fatigued from chasing about London, Hermione arrived back at her flat shortly after four o’clock. She was unnerved to discover her door ajar. Withdrawing her wand, she entered watchfully. Looking about the room, she saw nothing amiss, and yet “ she heard someone whistling in her kitchen!
Just then, Molly Weasley rushed in carrying a cup of a tea. “Be with you in a moment, dear,” she told Hermione as she scurried past her into the bedroom.
She emerged a short time later shaking her head sadly. “The poor man. I’ve never seen anyone so discouraged in all my life.” Molly regarded Hermione sternly. “Sit down, dear. I think it’s time we had a little chat.”
Hermione sat. “Mrs Weasley, what on earth “”
“I just popped in on my way to the rehearsal to see if I could be of any help to you. I found him lying in the passage right outside your door. I knocked, and when you didn’t answer, I used the Alohomora Spell. Then I had to get him into bed with a Mobilicorpus Spell. He banged his head hard on the doorframe as he floated through, and now there’s a frightful bump on his forehead. Really, Hermione, you must learn to be more considerate! After all he’s done for you, I’d think the least you could do is give the man what he wants!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Give who what? Who’s in there?”
“Why Severus, of course.”
“SNAPE?”
“Shh. He’s trying to rest. He’s become painfully thin. I don’t think he’s been eating properly. I believe he keeled over from malnutrition.”
“Is that what he told you? I fixed him a hearty breakfast just this morning, and I know for a fact that he lunched at the Leaky Cauldron.”
“Nevertheless, you didn’t give him what he really wants, dear.”
“Mrs Weasley!” Hermione protested. “I’m about to marry your son! How could you think for one minute that I’d be willing to…to…?”
“To provide a fine man, a war hero, with one of the basic necessities of life? Severus told me how he came to you in good faith yesterday and you refused him not once, but twice. Then this morning, he asked you again and you still turned him down. You led him to believe that he could expect some warmth and comfort from you on a chilly morning, and then you wouldn’t put “”
“MRS WEASLEY! I don’t know what Professor Snape might have told you, but please be assured he was lying!”
“Why are you so upset, Hermione? What reason could Severus have to lie about your being unwilling to make him a cup of tea?”
“Tea?” Hermione swallowed hard. “Is that what you were talking about?”
“Certainly. What did you think we were discussing?”
“But you said I wouldn’t put…put…well, you know.”
Molly looked puzzled. “Put the kettle on “ what did you think I meant?”
“Nothing. I’m just worn out from racing about town. I’m not thinking clearly.”
“Well, you’ve just enough time to freshen up, then we’d best be off to the rehearsal.” Molly started toward the kitchen, and then paused. “Oh, by the way, I corrected our oversight.”
“Oversight?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, dear. None of us thought to invite Severus to the wedding. He was most understanding and not the least bit offended. He said he’d be delighted to attend.”
“Snape’s coming to my wedding?”
“He told me he wouldn’t miss it for the world. In fact, he said he’d like nothing better than to see you married to the right man and that he intended to do everything in his power to make certain that you are. Wasn’t that nice?”
“Very.”
Molly whistled her way back to the kitchen, as Hermione glared at the bedroom door. “Playing on the sympathies of his rival’s own mother!” she muttered under her breath. “Of all the low, sneaky, Slytherin tactics! I’ll get rid of that deceitful pest!”
She tiptoed into the bedroom. Snape appeared to be asleep, but Hermione jostled his arm. He grabbed her hand and began nibbling her knuckles. Clamping her index finger hard between his teeth, he circled it with his tongue. She yanked her hand away with a gob of Snape’s saliva still glistening on her skin.
“That’s disgusting! Don’t you ever do that again!” she warned him.
Note to self: No knuckle nibbling or licking. Incites ire and does not arouse.
“If you don’t lower your voice, Molly will be dashing in here to reprimand you for disturbing my slumber. Unless, of course, you are eager for her to learn of our deep affection for one another.”
“I believe you are certifiably insane, after all! I want you to leave! Now!”
“Molly has already invited me to stay, but I will be gone before you return from the rehearsal.”
“Can I depend on that?”
“You can depend on me from now on, my beloved.” Snape leered at her wickedly, flashing a row of crooked teeth.
“Before I forget, how dare you inveigle an invitation to my wedding!”
“It was entirely Molly’s idea.”
“I’ll bet! Well, consider yourself uninvited!”
“I have already informed her that I will be attending. You needn’t worry; I shall do nothing to embarrass you. I intend to sit idly in the last row as you march blithely down the aisle “ straight to your doom.”
“What made you come back here, anyway? You told me at the Cauldron that you no longer desired me. And what caused you to faint in the passage?”
“I came to apologise for my rash remarks and to assure you that I will no longer pursue you. I lost consciousness because I purged both my breakfast and lunch due to nerves and…disappointment.”
“You’ve never apologised to anyone “ ever! I’m sorry I had to disappoint you, but you shouldn’t have presumed I had an obligation to you based upon one brief kiss!”
“You’re reasoning is quite sound, Miss Granger. In retrospect, the kiss wasn’t much.”
Hermione fumed. “I see through you, Professor. You’re the fox and I’m the sour grapes “ that’s it, isn’t it? You can’t have me, so you claim you don’t want me!”
“For someone who is so averse to my overtures, you seem to be quite disturbed that you are no longer the recipient of them,” Snape returned.
“Then why are you still here?”
Snape rolled over, snuggled against the pillow, and closed his eyes. “I’m fatigued from the trials of the day. I shall relax awhile longer and be gone before you return. Now go.”
Hermione stomped over to the other side of the bed so she could address him face to face. “You can’t order me out of my own home!”
“No, I don’t suppose I can. Stay or leave; it’s all the same to me,” he told her, with his eyes still clamped shut.
Hermione wavered for a moment in frustration, trying to decide what to do about the unwelcome wizard occupying her bed.
“Hurry along, dear,” Molly called from the other room. “We’ve barely time to make it.”
“Coming, Mrs Weasley.”
Hermione took a hard look at Snape. That black, greasy hair sullying her pristine white pillowcase! The impossible tilt of that hideous nose nuzzling against her fresh linen!
And yet, Hermione thought, lying there with his eyes closed, he looks almost…vulnerable.
It was nearly ten o’clock by the time Hermione returned to her flat. She collapsed on the sofa, exhausted from the day’s activities and the tedious rehearsal.
It occurred to her suddenly that she might not be alone. Entering the bedroom, she noticed the bed had been tidied and there was no sign of Snape.
“Good!” she observed irritably. “He’s gone.” Throwing herself down on the bed, she began to sob. After ten minutes had elapsed, she was still unable to stop the flow of tears.
The bathroom door opened silently and Snape sauntered into the room. He crept toward the distraught young witch. “Stop your pathetic melodramatics. There is nothing to be gained by weeping. You had your chance with me, but you threw it away.”
Hermione started and sat up quickly, trying to suppress her sniffles. “YOU! Why are you still here?”
“I was just leaving. Have a pleasant evening.”
“Just a moment! I wasn’t crying over you!”
“Whatever the case, I bid you good night.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious to know why I’m upset?”
“Frankly, no.”
Hermione projected her quivering bottom lip into what Snape considered a very alluring pout, so he graciously reconsidered.
“Very well. I shall listen until you bore me. Proceed.” He approached her bed.
“I’d prefer it if you sat over there.” Hermione gestured to her dressing table; Snape seated himself on a wobbly upholstered stool.
“We waited for more than an hour and Charlie never showed up. No owl, nothing. The pastor had another appointment, so Harry had to fill in as the groom.”
Snape winced. “I’d rather you didn’t bring up his name.”
“Still harbouring old grudges, Professor? You’ll never change.”
“It’s a fresh wound I carry, Miss Granger. Last month I came in second to Potter in the readers’ poll for Witch Weekly’s Most Distinguished Scar Award.” Snape looked at her questioningly. “Whom did you vote for “ Potter or me?”
“Neither of you. I voted for Professor Dumbledore’s knee.”
“No matter, go on with your story.”
“That is the story. The Weasleys apologised profusely, my friends felt sorry for me, and my parents were offended. It seems I’m running second to a Ukrainian Ironbelly,” Hermione whined bitterly.
“Then your tears should be tears of joy. Weasley has provided you with an excuse to call off the wedding “ why not do it?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? That would fit into your devious plans perfectly.”
“I no longer have designs on you. Try to let that sink into your thick-witted, unkempt little head: I wouldn’t have you now even if I were to receive another Order of Merlin to compensate for my ordeal. I am a proud man, Miss Granger. I will not grovel, and I am immune to your…dubious charms. I will never allow you to hurt me.”
Snape leaned back on the stool. One of the legs buckled beneath his weight sending him crashing to the floor; he landed hard on his derrière.
After a moment of stunned silence, Hermione convulsed into hysterics. She held her pillow up against her face to muffle her loud snorts.
When at last she could contain herself, she cackled, “Now I can die happy, Professor. You’re right where I’ve always wanted you “ flat on your pompous arse!”
Snape rose slowly. Picking up the stool with great dignity, he straightened its collapsed leg and placed it upright. He stalked toward the bed, and loomed over her threateningly. “I am elated that I have been able to cheer you. I imagine you were having a good laugh at my expense when you kissed me, too!”
Hermione’s amusement faded. He may have asserted that he was insusceptible to pain, but she could read it in his eyes.
“No, Professor Snape, I wasn’t. I am indebted to you for saving my life, and in spite of what you think of me now, I don’t regret kissing you.”
Snape’s eyes pierced through her. “Well, I do regret the kiss! In fact, I regret it so thoroughly, that you may have it back!”
Grasping her roughly by her wrists, Snape pulled Hermione into his arms. He held her close and gazed longingly into her eyes. She didn’t struggle. He almost wished she would; he didn’t have much of a plan.
“Oh, what the hell,” he mumbled. In slow motion, he inclined his head and leaned toward her mouth. Countless thoughts crowded his mind as his lips made their descent.
Note to self: Refrain from drooling. Give no indication by your demeanour that you haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re doing. Tilt head to one side to avoid inadvertently injuring her with your nose. Keep your tongue in your own mouth until provided with clear indication that its insertion is welcome. Attempt tenderness. If all else fails, Obliviate.
Their lips met. To Hermione’s surprise, it was tolerable, if not inspiring. To Snape’s disbelief, she was cooperative, if not encouraging. At last, he broke the kiss.
“Well, what did you think?” he asked her analytically.
“I’m not really sure,” she replied honestly. “What did you think?”
“I feel it would be prudent to conduct more research before I expound upon the merits of osculation.”
“You’re breathing hard, Professor.”
“Am I, Miss Gra -”
Before he could complete his sentence, Hermione pressed her mouth against his. Their second kiss was longer, more insistent. To Snape’s surprise, Hermione seemed to be “ enjoying it? To Hermione’s delight, Snape did not attempt to employ her uvula as a punching bag, as Charlie often did. This time, she broke the kiss.
“Professor,” she began carefully, “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but are you a vir “”
“No, Miss Granger. I am a Capricorn.”
“You know that’s not what I was about to say.”
“If you expect me to provide you with a detailed résumé of my sexual encounters, then I am free to request the same from you. Ladies first.”
“Only Charlie,” Hermione confessed.
“What? Not the youngest Weasley rotter?”
“No. In spite of all the rumours, Ron and I were just good friends.”
“What about Krum?”
“Too glum.”
“Pucey?”
“He couldn’t induce me.”
They regarded one another seriously for a long moment, as they embraced.
“Your turn now,” Hermione insisted.
“Only Knockturn Alley “ but I’ve done a great deal of reading on the subject. I may be an inexpert kisser, but I have familiarity with…other things.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I have mastered the fundamentals, but my field research has been confined to…er…witches of the evening.”
“But you were a Death Eater “ surely the Dark Revels “”
“They were a myth, Miss Granger, propagandized by the Dark Lord’s inner circle to entice new recruits. There were rumours, of course, of what transpired behind closed doors, but Death Eater gatherings were not the wild saturnalias that the Ministry purported them to be.”
Without further ado, they shared another kiss, and this time their tongues became well acquainted. Sobering thoughts ran through Hermione’s mind as she allowed her hand to drift down Snape’s back.
I have to get a grip on myself! This is Snape I’m kissing! If Mum and Dad ever saw his teeth, they’d…they’d...oh… mmm…if his tongue can make me feel like this when it’s in my mouth, I wonder what it would feel like if he were to…NO! What would people think? I’ll be Mrs Charles Weasley in fourteen hours. Stop this idiocy and chuck him out!
Snape had never been so adventurous with his tongue in his entire life. He quickly became quite proficient and daring “ once he remembered to breathe.
When Hermione had first returned, she had noted the time: 9:58 p.m. Concerned that thirty minutes or so must have passed and she should be thinking of turning in for the night, she glanced at the clock. It was now 3:14 a.m.! She would be a married woman in less than ten hours! At some point, and she was not at all certain how it happened, they had transferred from a vertical to a horizontal position and were now sprawled across the bed.
“I’m parched,” Snape panted. “How about some tea?”
“No tea; more tongue,” she commanded.
He obliged, and they began afresh.
Filtered sunbeams frolicked against the fluttering curtains on the morning of the 19th of July in the same manner as they generally did. On this particular occasion, however, they illuminated a touching scene: a young bride to be, hours away from wedded bliss, awakening cradled in the arms of…her former Potions master?
When had all sense of reason and sound judgement flown out the window? At what point between dissipation and daybreak had her train of logic derailed? When had all formalities dropped? “Miss Granger” had evolved into “Hermione, my life, my love”, and “Professor Snape” had been reduced to “Severus, my Blood-Sucking Bugbear”.
Hermione stirred; Snape snorted. Opening her eyes, she realised in a singular, inglorious moment of epiphany what her day held in store: unqualified chaos.
She faced away from Snape, with his breath warming the back of her head. She nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Severus, wake up.”
“Lily…my divine goddess,” he murmured dreamily.
She nudged him again, with a bit more vigour, and he jerked awake.
“Who is Lily?” Hermione demanded.
“Good morning,” Snape ventured carefully, stalling.
“Good morning. Who’s Lily?” she repeated.
“Not ‘who’, ‘what’. I was dreaming of how exquisite you would look as my bride dressed in…off-white, carrying a bouquet of…er…lilies.”
“Is that really what you said?”
Snape nuzzled his nose against her ear. “On my honour as a Slytherin,” he avowed.
Hermione decided not to pursue the topic; there were more pressing matters at hand.
“Severus?”
“Hmm?”
“What am I to do?”
“Why not make tea?”
Hermione glanced at the clock. “Have you forgotten that I’m supposed to be getting married in a scant four hours?”
“That’s the best news I’ve received today.”
“I beg your pardon?” She turned around to confront him.
“I was referring to your doubt, not your debacle. You said supposed to be getting married. That suggests to me that you are having reservations.”
“Well, considering last night…”
“I’ve done nothing but consider last night, but ultimately, the choice rests with you: marry Weasley or marry me. Now, what must I do to rate a cup of tea?”
“You’re certainly taking a rather cavalier attitude about this predicament. Perhaps I’d better leave things as they are.”
“As you wish. I’m perfectly content to remain here with you for as long as you desire “ with or without tea.”
“I meant that I may as well go ahead and marry Charlie. You must admit, it would simplify things.”
Snape rolled over on his back and glowered at the ceiling. “If the central purpose of your life is to attain simplicity, then by all means, Weasley is the man for you. If, however, you desire the complexity of deep thought, the stimulation of Potions over perambulators, and a partner who will be infinitely passionate and prompt, then I would be the better candidate.”
Hermione thought things through. “Even if I were to consider marrying you,” she said, at last, “which is not to say that I am “ how would you propose that I explain it to everyone? The florist is probably delivering the flowers to Wynbridge Church as we speak.”
“Wynbridge Church? You’re having a Muggle ceremony?”
“Yes. My parents are paying for the wedding and they insisted. They’re Seventh-Day Adventist dentists.”
“Suppose we take a Portkey to paradise and notify everyone by owl once we reach our destination. That would simplify matters.”
“I thought you preferred complexity, Severus.”
“Only as it pertains to thought. In facing up to my…indiscretions, I would elect to spare myself the trial of accompanying you to the church and subjecting myself to a mass public hexing.”
“Yes, I do see your point,” Hermione conceded.
“Does Weasley expect you to live in Romania, populating Wizarding Bucharest with babies?”
“No. Charlie purchased farm property adjacent to the Burrow. He plans to import and breed dragons. The Warlock’s Convention of 2003 overturned the ban.
Snape sniffed in ridicule. “While you breed Weasleys. In no time at all, your hips will be as wide as Molly’s.”
“Don’t you want to have children, Severus?”
“I wouldn’t wish the combination of our genetics on anyone.” Snape regarded her gravely. “Would your life be incomplete without a child?”
“I don’t know. One might be nice.”
“Then if I were you, I would think twice before becoming a Weasley.”
“Where would we live?” Hermione wondered.
“This flat seems suitable enough,” Snape decided. "I can Apparate here each evening and at the weekends. Or, if you prefer, we could find a cottage in Hogsmeade.”
Snape could tell by the faraway look in Hermione’s eyes that a cottage might appeal to her. Coaxing her into his arms, he kissed her tenderly. “Say ‘yes’, Hermione.”
“Severus, I’ve reached a decision. The only clear choice is for me to marry “”
The sound of loud banging at the door interrupted her disclosure.
“Oh, shite!” Hermione grumbled. “Stay in here and don’t make a sound,” she warned Snape. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”
She trudged to the hall. “Who’s there?” she inquired.
“Special delivery for Miss Granger.”
Assuming it was a wedding gift from an out of town relation, she opened the door without thinking. Three masked individuals seized her. After being blindfolded and gagged, she was carted away.
Snape, listening from the bedroom, heard a stifled scream and the slamming of a door. In anguish, he raced out of the room and collided with Molly Weasley.
“Oh, hello, Severus. Are you still here? Are you feeling any better?”
“Where is Herm…Miss Granger?” he demanded.
“You needn’t be alarmed. Her bridesmaids kidnapped her. They’re treating her to a surprise beauty makeover before the wedding. Isn’t that thoughtful?”
“Most considerate,” he agreed, barely able to conceal his rage.
“I’ve stopped in to pick up her wedding gown.” With a cheery smile, she breezed past him to retrieve Hermione’s dress and bridal accessories from the bedroom.
Snape was livid. He began to pace and tear his hair. Molly came out a short time later, her arms filled with Hermione’s belongings.
“If you’re feeling up to it, would you mind shrinking her luggage? I’ll take care of the rest of her things.”
“Not at all,” he bit out, feigning congeniality. After applying a Shrinking Charm, he pocketed her suitcases.
“Well, I’d better be off. Lots to do! You’ll bring her luggage along with you to the church, won’t you, Severus?” Molly sighed. “Ah, young love. I just adore weddings. Children grow up quickly, you know. Bill’s married of course, and the rest are spoken for too. The twins have new girlfriends; they’ll be attending the wedding. Of course, Ronald was the second to marry “ you knew he’d married, didn’t you?”
“No, news of the Weasleys’ social calendar rarely reaches the dungeons.”
Where is Hermione? I must find her! Which one of us has she chosen? Lost in his own thoughts, Snape wasn’t listening to a word she was saying.
“Yes,” Molly prattled on, “Ronald married Eloise Midgen a year after the war. She’s turned into quite a beauty. And Ginny and Harry are expecting. I’m so happy for them.”
“Where is Wynbridge Church?”
“I’m on my way there now. You can come with me, if you like. I have a Portkey in my purse.” Molly fumbled around and produced a crocheted U-shaped object trimmed in lace.
“What is that device?”
Molly laughed. “It’s a horseshoe. Mrs Granger told me it’s a Muggle tradition for the bride to wear it on her sleeve for good luck.”
Snape exhaled a heavy sigh of foreboding. “Very well. I suppose it will be the easiest way.”
Exiting down to the street, they found a deserted alley and clasped on to the horseshoe. “Portus!” Molly cried enthusiastically, and they were on their way.
Hermione sat in a Wizarding salon having a magical manicure while her well-intentioned abductors gathered around her. Why did she feel like a condemned prisoner?
“Hermione,” Ginny asked, “Mum said Professor Snape paid you a visit. What did the old Glumbumble want to see you about?”
“He’s not a Glumbumble!” Hermione protested, growing defensive. “I’ll grant you he’s old, but he’s not a Glumbumble. He saved my life remember. Harry’s too, more than once. He happened to be in the neighbourhood and he decided to look me up. That’s all.”
“It’s not like Snape to pay a social call,” Eloise observed.
“I’ll bet he’s nastier and uglier than ever,” Cho Longbottom added.
“Mum invited him to the wedding, so you’d best warn Neville,” Ginny recommended.
Hermione did her best to disregard them. She thought she had made up her mind, but she was even more uncertain than before.
Dragons or dungeons, Peruvian Vipertooths or Potions? Hermione deliberated, while her friends continued deriding Snape. Callused hands or long, sensual fingers? Sloppy, invasive kisses, or…heaven? She closed her eyes, reliving the night before.
Her reverie was disrupted as Cho asked, “Does he still have that cadaver pallor?”
“Shut up, the lot of you!” Hermione roared. “There’s another side to him that I’ve come to know that few people have seen. True, he’s difficult, arrogant and a consummate prat, at times, but he can also be…amusing.”
“SNAPE?” they snickered in chorus.
“Yes, Snape!” she insisted.
“Calm down, Hermione,” Ginny advised. “Anyone would think you actually fancied him.”
“It’s just pre-wedding jitters,” Cho explained knowingly. “It’s not as if she were considering running off with him! That would be almost as unlikely as Ron ending up with…oh, sorry, Eloise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eloise shot back. “Look at you and Neville! Now there’s an implausible pairing if I ever saw one!”
As the catfight escalated, Hermione rolled her eyes, covered her ears, and decided to concentrate on the pedicure pixies applying polish to her piggies.
“This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.”
~ Oscar Wilde
*~~~*~~~*
The hour of decision drew near. The pews were packed, the choir was tuned, and the bride had donned her gown. An owl came from Charlie informing Hermione that he was running late, but would be arriving by Swedish Short-Snout under a Disillusionment Charm.
On the pretence of needing a breath of fresh air, Hermione slipped out of the dressing room to peep inside the church. There was no sign of Snape. It’s probably for the best, she told herself, but her spirits were very low.
The ceremony was scheduled to begin at noon, followed by the wedding breakfast. Snape had been such a constant presence and a thorn in her side for the past forty-eight hours, Hermione couldn’t imagine where he was. He’d made such a nuisance of himself, and now, when she was actually starting to miss him, he’d all but disappeared.
It’s probably for the best, she kept repeating. Once Charlie arrived, and they were reunited, all memories of her interlude with Snape would fade - she hoped. Hermione was meant to be a Weasley. She’d been as close to their family as she’d been to her own for the last fourteen years of her life, if not closer. With Charlie, Hermione would have a warm, happy existence surrounded by friends and family; but if she chose Snape, she would have to give up all that and learn to embrace the unpredictable.
As everyone bustled about, caught up in the excitement of the moment, Hermione grew quiet and felt inexplicably disconnected. If marrying Charlie is for the best, why do I feel so utterly wretched? She did her best to steel herself to make it through the next hour, all the while realising that the unpredictable had never seemed more appealing.
At precisely 12:29 p.m., a commotion emanated from the corridor. “The church is afire!” the deacon yelled, as heat radiated from the ceiling and flames began to lick through the beams. “Everyone exit through the vestibule!” In a panic, he ran off to assist with the evacuation.
With some discreet magical intervention from the wizards present, the fire was extinguished easily with only minor damage to the structure.
“Of all the nit-witted, incompetent, mutton headed things to do!” Molly seethed, as she joined the rest of the evacuees in front of the church. “He takes after your side of the family, Arthur!”
“Now, Molly, calm yourself,” her husband whispered, following in her wake. “How was Charlie to know that the dragon would land short and impale itself on the spire? He’s up on the roof now, with Hagrid trying his best to remedy the situation. Don’t worry. The Ministry will send over a team of Obliviators, if necessary.”
“The things I have to put up with in this family! Poor Hermione. Her wedding day ruined!” Molly scanned the crowd. “Where is she, I wonder?”
Hermione stood huddled with her bridesmaids amid the throng. Chaos indeed, had prevailed just as she had predicted. The irony of the situation struck her. She’d assumed that if something happened to disrupt the ceremony, Snape would be behind it. Instead, Charlie had been the cause of the wedding’s postponement. She felt as though she’d been granted a reprieve “ now, if only she could find Snape.
The church officials alerted the London Fire Brigade, the premises were inspected, and the church was closed. The wedding breakfast was cancelled and the Weasleys, Grangers, and guests all went their separate ways.
Still in her wedding dress, Hermione declined the Weasleys’ invitation to spend the afternoon at the Burrow and elected instead to return to her flat.
”The most important things to do in the world are to get something to eat, something to drink, and somebody to love you.”
~ Brendan Behan
*~~~*~~~*
As she walked down the dim passageway toward her door, a shaky voice called out her name from the shadows. “Hermione.”
“Severus,” she breathed, as he approached.
“Are you…did you…”
“No, I’m not married.”
Snape exhaled heavily.
Turning the key in the latch, she led him inside.
“Severus, I didn’t leave you. I answered the door and “ ”
“I know,” he said softly. “Molly told me what happened. We shared a Portkey to the church shortly after your friends abducted you.”
She regarded him inquisitively. “I looked for you, but couldn’t find you. Where were you?”
“We arrived early, and I grew anxious waiting and felt out of place. I Apparated back to the dungeons to think and…hope. I’ve been lurking here for the past hour wondering if you would return.”
“Then you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Snape asked.
“The church almost burnt to the ground. Charlie arrived by dragon; it shied for some reason, and became skewered on the church spire.”
Snape shifted his eyes uneasily and seated himself on the sofa. “Was anyone injured?”
“No, just the dragon. Charlie and Hagrid are probably still up on the roof trying to dislodge the poor beast.” Hermione settled down beside him.
“Hermione, I need to know “ have you reached a decision? You were about to tell me before we were separated. Please, I cannot bear “ ”
“It’s you I want,” she assured him. “These last two days have been inconceivable, defying all reason. I can’t honestly say that I’m in love with you; all I know is that I want to take the time to find out what it’s like to be with you.”
“Then you won’t marry me?”
She smiled and stroked her fingers gently across his face. “Not today, anyway.”
Snape relaxed and slouched on the sofa, extending his legs out in front of him. He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Then how about some tea?”
Hermione leaned toward him with a devilish gleam in her eye, which conveyed to Snape that teatime would have to wait. Scooping her into his arms, he strode toward the bedroom, keen to discuss the uprising of Elfric the Eager.
“Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery.”
~ Albus Dumbledore
*~~~*~~~*
Daybreak winged its way into their snug nest in all its splendour. During the night, through mutual agreement and some awkward preliminaries, they had become lovers. Snape was still in a deep sleep with a self-satisfied simper on his face; Hermione was just awakening.
She gazed adoringly at her unlikely companion as she stretched lazily, still sated from their prolonged explorations. In the dark, he was divine; in the grey of dawn, he was a bit hard on the eyes, but divine, nonetheless.
Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned. She climbed out of bed, nearly tripping on the trappings of her bridal finery discarded in a heap on the floor. Entering the bathroom, she found Snape’s attire in a similar condition, strewn across the counter. An empty phial was protruding from his robe pocket. Curious, she plucked it up to examine it and read the label.
Dragon Repellent! Hermione did some quick supposition. Mrs Weasley must have told him that Charlie would be arriving by dragon. Severus must have…no, he couldn’t have done anything that despicable. Hermione would not allow herself to even think it. As she began to replace the phial back into Snape’s pocket, she felt it tap against something hard. She rummaged around and found another surprise. My luggage! He stole it to prevent me from leaving on my honeymoon! A Slytherin to the core!
Hermione stormed back into the bedroom and rousted Snape. He grunted and blinked sleepily.
“Explain!” she demanded.
Snape squinted, trying to draw the room into focus. “Was I talking in my sleep again? Did I mention Lily…er, lilies?
“No, you didn’t mention lilies. Explain this!” She thrust the phial into his hand.
Blast! We’re not even married yet and she’s already going through my pockets!
“I always carry an emergency supply of Dragon Repellent on my person. One never knows when one might have use for it,” he lied smoothly.
“You rarely come into contact with dragons!”
“That’s not entirely accurate. I expect I’ll be meeting my future mother-in-law soon.”
“You’re sure to find lots in common “ you’re the same age!” Hermione replied spitefully.
“Just what is it, precisely, of which I stand accused?”
“You sneaked up on the roof and doused it with repellent so Charlie couldn’t land! Mrs Weasley must have mentioned to you that he was arriving by dragon. You deliberately tried to spoil my wedding! Charlie might have been killed, and the church has sustained structural damage!”
“My intention was merely to postpone the ceremony to give you more time to decide. I had no way of knowing that Weasley would manoeuvre the beast into position like a pig on a spit.”
“Are you sure that was your only intention?”
“As I told you before, you are free to marry whomever you choose. I acted nobly and merely provided you with more time to realise that your true happiness lies with me.”
“Brimming with altruism, aren’t you? Then how do you account for my luggage being in your pocket? You stole it and shrank it so I wouldn’t have any clothes for my honeymoon!”
“I’m certain your ersatz groom would not have registered a complaint. For your information, Molly asked me to shrink your luggage. She had her hands full, at the time.”
“Did you prevail upon her to make tea, again? Since when have you and she become so chummy? If she only knew your true nature!”
“Molly thinks very highly of me after having served with me in the Order. She practically considers me an honorary Weasley. We even shared a secret mission together,” Snape revealed, “although she’s unaware of it.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked dubiously.
“I stole a mince pie Molly baked from the pantry at Grimmauld Place. I took it with me to one of the Dark Lord’s gatherings. Three Death Eaters helped themselves and succumbed to ptomaine poisoning. Pity I didn’t think to offer the Dark Lord a slice. Molly and I might have saved the Wizarding world without any assistance from Potter at all.”
In spite of her fury, Hermione began to laugh.
“Now that I’ve amused you, am I forgiven?”
“Well,” Hermione deliberated, “no one was hurt “ except the dragon, of course. But I’m sure that Charlie and Hagrid will be able to nurse it back to health.”
“Then you are no longer angry?”
“I suppose not.”
“Good. Now come back to bed and let’s practice for our honeymoon,” Snape suggested eagerly.
Hermione returned to bed and nestled into his arms. “There’ll only be a honeymoon if I decide to marry you,” she teased, before nuzzling his ear.
When you decide to marry me,” he corrected, working his hand down her torso to revisit the font of last night’s sweet conquest.
After a round of enthusiastic kisses, Snape queried diffidently, “Hermione?”
“Yes, Severus?”
“There’s something I’d really like,” he began tentatively.
“Anything, darling. Name it.”
“I was wondering…”
“Severus, after all the things we did last night, this is no time to be coy. Tell me what you have in mind. I like to get a little wild; perhaps I’ll derive pleasure from it, too.”
“Well,” Snape said carefully, “it’s something I would enjoy, but if you’d rather not do it, I’ll understand, and we can continue on just as we are. This is extremely gratifying,” he confessed, “and I certainly don’t want to demand any more from you than you are willing to give.”
Hermione regarded him with a wicked smile. “Is it something kinky?”
“I suppose that depends upon one’s definition of ‘kinky’.”
“Is it steamy?” she asked, her arousal building.
“If done properly.”
“And hot?” she wondered, beginning to breathe heavily.
“Quite.”
“Does it…does it involve…liquid?”
“Naturally.”
“Well, Severus, it is a bit unusual, but I have an open mind. Do you want to do it, or do you want me to do it?”
“I’d prefer that you do it,” Snape told her candidly.
“Now?” Hermione asked, beginning to lose her daring.
“Preferably.”
Hermione balked. “I can’t. It’s just too…too…”
“Early in the morning?” Snape provided.
“No, too revolting,” she decided, wrinkling her nose.
“Hmm. As you wish. I suppose once we’re married and move into our cottage, I can prevail upon our house-elf to do it.”
Hermione sat up and gaped at Snape in horror. “That’s perverted! It lends an entirely different and most distasteful connotation to the word ‘spew’.” She shuddered. “I may have to reconsider marrying you, after all!”
“What the devil are you going on about?” Snape asked, mystified.
“It’s just too much to ask.” Hermione crossed her arms and sulked.
Snape shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “It’s a sorry day in Britain when a wizard can’t even merit a decent cup of tea!” he snarled.
“Tea?” she tittered.
“Yes, tea!” he barked.
“Coming up in a jiffy!” Hermione sang out cheerily.
Snape drew her close for a moment before letting her go. “At last,” he sighed contentedly, “I hold the world in my arms.”
Author’s Notes:
Dumbledore’s quotation is from GoF/35.
A very special thank you to my beta Ellcey, and to my Mugglenet friend for submitting this for me. I haven’t been able to log in to my account at all lately. Please be assured that I am very grateful to receive reviews, and if I can stay logged in to respond to them, I will.