Chapter Eleven: Complications

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Chapter Eleven: Complications

The sleeping man murmured something unintelligible and rolled over. Suddenly, he woke to a cold draught as the bedclothes were whisked off his naked body.

"Wake up, Spartan! Time for your run!"

One eye opened to peer sleepily at the witch who was currently prodding his side. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Five o'clock. Sun's up in half an hour. Time you were up as well."

"Do I have to? I can think of other ways to exercise..." He leered suggestively, patting the space beside himself.

"Won't work, old man. It's going to be a beautiful sunrise, and I don't want to miss the view." She leered back.

"Merlin's pants! If I had only known you were so damned cheerful in the mornings," he complained.

"Coming from a man who usually runs around naked at this hour, that is high praise indeed. Now, move it!"

"All right, all right. I'm up!"

She looked down. "You certainly are."

"Not tempted?"

"No." She threw his running clothes at him and turned for the door.

Muttering under his breath about bossy, heartless witches, Severus quickly dressed and followed her out to the Quidditch pitch. Sure enough, it was crisp and clear, with the incipient dawn bestowing a faint tinge of pallor to the eastern sky.

Hermione settled herself into her usual seat and smiled happily as her runner completed his usual quota of laps. Her thoughts turned to the first morning she had seen him thus. Simple curiosity had been rapidly replaced by awareness, a sense of connection, and finally a deep and abiding love for the man who was now removing his clothing before her. A few intricate movements of her wand provided them with privacy. She laughed at the enquiring lift of his eyebrow. "Just a small charm of my own devising. I wouldn't want any of those nosy senior students wandering this way," she explained.

"Gods, no. One is quite enough for this wizard to handle!"

Hermione admired his body anew as he went through his usual routine, this time fully cognisant of how every inch of his body felt, smelled, and tasted. His final set revealed he was once again fully aroused.

"Magnificent. And all mine," she whispered to herself. Then, as the dawn broke spectacularly over the distant hills, she proceeded to show him just how much she appreciated the view.

Somewhat later, the two shared breakfast for the first time in his quarters.

"Why is the coffee so much better here than in the Great Hall?" she asked curiously.

"Could it be the stimulating company?" he teased.

"Possibly. But I swear this is a different brew entirely." She regarded him suspiciously as she moved around the table to stand behind his chair. Softly caressing his shoulders, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Just what other favours do you enjoy down here?"

"Now, I can't give away all my secrets. You would have nothing left to discover." His lids lowered as he leaned back into her body, allowing her hands to wander down his chest under the loose silken robe he wore.

"Oh, I think I could find some further research topics." She licked his earlobe as she explored lower and lower.

Temptation beckoned him with searching fingers. Reluctantly reigning in his errant libido, he removed her hand and stood. "I'm sure you could. But you have N.E.W.T.s in a few weeks. I suggest you get back to your room to study, Miss Granger." His witch's easy shrug of acceptance was a little disappointing, but he admired her matching restraint.

"Yes, sir! One question. May I have permission to snog the professor senseless before I leave?" She straddled his lap in anticipation.

"Oh, I suppose so... if you insist. Mmm... Outstanding, Miss Granger!"

***

Hermione spent the rest of the day behaving exactly as any obsessive swot would – in the library, surrounded by books and parchment. She had easily covered all she had planned by dinnertime and found Harry and Ron waiting for her in the common room on her return.

"Well, here she is. Miss 'I've been studying all weekend' Granger," Harry teased.

"About time, too," Ron grumbled. "I'm starving."

"I had a little catching up to do," she explained.

"I'll bet you did. But before we go to dinner, Ron has something to say. Ron?"

"Er... I was called to the headmistress's office. Mum was there. It was awful." He paled at the memory.

"And...?" Harry encouraged.

"And I'm sorry. I had no right to say or do what I did. There. I said it. You can shag whoever you like if it makes you happy. But I reserve the right to hex him if he..."

"Ron! What did I say?"

"I know, Harry. Hermione gets first right to any hexing. But I could help, couldn't I?" Ron tried the old puppy dog look.

Harry and Hermione sighed and rolled their eyes.

"It's OK, Ron. I promise if I need any help hexing anyone, you will be the first wizard I call upon. Now, can we just go back to being friends?" Hermione gathered her two boys in her arms for a hug.

***

Sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast the next day, Hermione flashed her lover a quick smile as he took his place. She had slept in her own room the previous night, after playing Exploding Snap and other games with her fellow students for part of the evening and reading in an armchair by the fire for the remainder. They had met at the Quidditch pitch earlier and enjoyed another all too brief interlude as the sun rose, which would have to suffice until she joined him late that evening. The intensity of her desire for physical contact with the man was something she had never expected. They had crossed the line, and there was no going back. Not that she wanted to.

Suddenly, the conversation around her seeped into her awareness.

"Really? Parkinson? She's admitted it?" Ginny was shaking her head in disbelief.

"Admitted what?" Hermione asked, having missed the first part of the discussion.

"Pansy Parkinson has apparently told all the Slytherin seventh-years that she is Professor Snape's lover. She's giving out all the details. Hey, no need to choke on your pumpkin juice, Hermione. It's only Parkinson. Who cares if she wants to shag the Greasy One?"

Hermione glared at the Slytherin table. "How dare she...?" She caught the subtle shake of Harry's head as she almost gave herself away. "How dare she spill private information like that? He will be livid!"

"That's her problem. Look at her. Really thinks she is someone special. Needs her head examined, if you ask me. Wonder what she sees in him? I mean, I know everyone has suddenly started talking about his voice, his hands, and his eyes, but it's still Snape, isn't it? Imagine shagging him."

Hermione's eyes glazed over as she did just that. Not a lot of effort was required at all.

"Hermione! Stop that! You look as if you would enjoy it!" Ginny chided.

"Oh, I would... I mean, I would find it difficult to imagine anyone shagging Professor Snape," she corrected hurriedly. Anyone else, that is.

As the seventh-year Potions class set up their workstations, Hermione discreetly watched Pansy Parkinson. She was sure the other girl's skirt was somewhat shorter than usual and her blouse a little tighter. A disapproving huff escaped her lips, causing Harry to turn and murmur reassurance in her ear.

"Don't worry about that pretender, Hermione. You know as well as I do that she is all talk. Just be grateful she is taking the heat off you. And don't look at him like that!" he warned as Severus entered the room, robes billowing.

Pansy contrived to drop a quill just as her professor passed her desk, giving him a good show of cleavage as she bent to retrieve it.

"Two points from Slytherin for carelessness, Miss Parkinson," he hissed without so much as breaking stride. Even her seductively batted eyelashes left him unmoved. "I suggest you see Madam Pomfrey to have your eyes checked; you seem to have developed a rather unattractive twitch."

Hermione glanced at Harry, who winked. Severus was not about to give the Slytherin girl any chance to reinforce her ridiculous story. Satisfied, she set about brewing the potion assignment for the day, humming softly to herself as she worked.

"Miss Granger, do the instructions call for musical accompaniment?" His smooth, satin voice was sinfully wicked in her ear.

"No, sir. I was just feeling particularly happy this morning," she replied calmly.

"Don't tell me the class know-it-all has found a boyfriend." His mouth sneered, but her knowing gaze caught the playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh, yes, sir. And he is so brilliant and sexy and talented..." she replied guilelessly, then added in a whisper, "I just want to feel his naked body next to mine, touch him, taste him..."

She smothered a grin at his muttered, "Fuck, you win!" as he abruptly turned on his heel for the sanctuary of his desk.

"Hermione!" hissed Harry. "You promised not to do that."

"He started it," she retorted, not the least bit apologetic.

"I give up. I'm not sure who is worse out of you two. You deserve each other."

***

Harry nudged Hermione. "Looks like she's at it again," he whispered, indicating the crowd of giggling Slytherin girls surrounding Pansy Parkinson, who was punctuating whatever tale she was telling with obvious glances at their Head of house. However, the man himself was steadfastly ignoring his students, to all appearances totally immersed in his conversation with the headmistress. That was until his black eyes stealthily met those of his true lover and, with a fleeting dip of one eyelid, acknowledged her frustration.

"Oi, Hermione! Did Snape just wink at you?" Ron asked through a mouthful of mashed potato.

"Hmm. I believe he did," she replied as she helped herself to another sausage.

"Bloody hell. You must be a bad influence!"

"I hope so, Ronald. I certainly hope so," she deadpanned.

"Oh!" Ron flushed once he finally understood why Harry was chuckling.

***

"She's really gone too far this time." Hermione stormed into Severus's bedroom when she found the sitting room empty.

"Who has, and what has she done?" Severus paused, one boot already removed, shirt and robes already discarded.

"That bloody Parkinson. She has everyone convinced that you and she are about to run off and elope. As if you would do such a thing."

"Indeed," he replied mildly.

"I tell you – if she so much as lays a finger on you..."

Removing his other boot and his pants, he beckoned to her. "Come here, witch." He wrapped his arms around the tense young woman and held her close until the heat of her temper abated, to be replaced by a fire of a different sort altogether.

"Oh, Severus. Sometimes I think we should just tell them. I can't stand the way they are all drooling over you. You. Are. Mine!" She emphasised her words with passionate kisses.

"Are you sure you want the world to know your taste in wizards runs to the old and worn, my dear?"

"The only thing old and worn around here, love, is that dreadful, grey nightshirt I saw on the chair last night. Why on earth didn't you throw it out years ago?" she asked.

"It is soft and warm, rather like a certain Gryffindor witch I know."

"Well, you don't need it any longer. You have me to keep you warm in bed." Running her hands over his bare chest and shoulders, she backed him toward the bed.

"Mmm. I see your point. However, before you get carried away, I would like to ask you a question." He stepped away to escape her distracting fingers and lips. "Hermione, where do your parents live?"

"They are still in Australia. But why...?"

She was startled as her wizard looked down at her and asked, "Hermione, how would your parents feel if we turned up at their home. For a wedding?"

"A wedding. But I don't know of anyone getting marr..."

Severus silenced her with a finger to her lips. Carefully placing a Cushioning charm on the floor, he gestured flamboyantly then kneeled. "Hermione – light of my life, love of my heart, know-it-all of my class – will you make this the most joyous day of my life and agree to become my bride?" he entreated, hand to his heart, eyes alight with mirth.

"Drama queen!" she snorted. "Are you serious?"

He sat down onto the stone floor with a thud, sprawled in a manner akin to a stunned spider. "You wound me, woman. I have just laid my heart at your feet and proposed marriage, and you think I am joking?"

She laughed at his mock air of chagrin, but was sensitive enough to detect the undercurrent of hurt at her teasing. "Severus, my sexy, sweet Spartan. I would be honoured to become your wife."

"You do realise, if you ever refer to me as sweet again it will be divorce. And we would have to marry Muggle style, to make it easier to involve your parents. A wizarding ceremony could be performed later, after you have graduated."

"My parents would be very pleased to see me married properly in the Muggle way."

"What about the fact that I am your professor and twenty years older? Will that not give them a justified cause to object?" He knew that could be a major problem.

"My parents are very understanding of such things. They believe love transcends all barriers; after all, Dad was Mum's lecturer at dental school and is fifteen years her senior. Besides, I am nineteen, and the legal age of consent for marriage in Australia is eighteen. Although their blessing would be ideal, it is not necessary," she stated stubbornly.

His look of relief was short-lived. "Then, the only problem is Minerva. We will need her permission to leave the school to wed. You will need to send a message to your parents."

"We should wait until you have spoken to Professor McGonagall. Let's not count our chickens..."

"What have chickens got to do with it?" he asked with a frown.

"Oh, Severus. Sometimes you are such a wizard!"

***

A/N: Many thanks to rdholmantx, whose encouragement turned this story from an idea into a reality; ladyinthecloak, whose beta skills are beyond compare; and all the readers and reviewers that have come along for the ride so far. Hugs to you all!