Chapter Two

Chapter Two

They marched down the gravelled drive to a mansion at least five times the size of the old two-up, two-down at Spinner's End he had sold as soon as he could. If it had been human, it would have been a refined and unpretentious old witch who would just raise one gracefully arched eyebrow and calmly call for a house-elf if something as tacky as a white peacock dared to show up on her front lawn.

"Tell me again why we're on our way to Scorpius Malfoy's birthday party?"

Severus slowed down to give Hermione the chance to keep up in her high heels. "Because I want to be seen with the newly appointed Muggle liaison of St Mungo's?"

"There's not much prestige involved if nobody else wants the job."

"Then it's because Draco gave me the loan to start my own business after the war."

Hermione expressed her opinion of his explanation with an unladylike snort. "We both know you didn't really need that loan because you, being you, changed the lion's share of your teacher salary into pounds and deposited it in a savings account."

"A teacher's salary doesn't amount to much."

"Two decades' worth of it do."

"The Bank of Scotland has a much better interest rate than the goblins. Are you accusing me of philanthropy?"

She patted his arm, a gesture that would have smacked of condescension if done by anyone but her. "Sorry, won't happen again. But you never went to one of his social things before."

"It is never only a social thing with families like the Malfoys; it is imperative to weigh the pros and cons carefully before accepting an invitation."

"Severus-speak for 'it's complicated'."

That was an understatement; the first time they had met again face to face after the war, Draco had just returned to England for Lucius's trial. It had been an awkward and painful affair. There were tears and a stuttered apology involved on Draco's part and a mixture of delayed gratification and unease on his, and although Severus was glad to see Draco finally grown up, it also rattled him to see the younger Malfoy humbled and missing his usual arrogance. So much so that he accepted his offer of an interest-free loan. Hermione was right that he hadn't strictly needed it, but it had meant that he could afford to buy his new house before he found a buyer for the one on Spinner's End and fit his lab with the newest equipment.

After the cathartic experience of their first meeting, he and Draco stuck to infrequent dinners and sometimes Floo calls, and the rest of the time, they corresponded by owl. However, Draco had started sending invitations to their social events after his wedding to Astoria Greengrass.

Draco had been raised to be a self-serving political beast. The war had changed him into the Malfoy equivalent of a philanthropist: still a political beast, still thinking of his family first, but using his brains for a change, and as he had climbed up the social ladder again with marrying a Greengrass, he had wanted to improve Severus's standing in society the only way he knew how. It was to his everlasting vexation that Severus didn't want to suck up to the high and mighty to influence public opinion of him.

Hermione pointed at the gift-wrapped shrunken box in Severus's hand. "I don't know if a measly Muggle scooter will satisfy a Malfoy. I mean, Scorpius is three. He probably owns more expensive toys than all Weasley grandchildren put together and a fleet of toy brooms to boot."

"That may be, but I'm positive he does not own a three-wheeled aluminium kick-scooter yet. I have a hard time picturing Draco shopping at Harrods."

Hermione didn't reply. Severus stopped and looked down into her drawn face. "Draco is not the boy you remember," he tried to reassure her. He watched how her hands smoothed down her skirt, fluttered up to her hair, then dropped again and played with her bracelet. "But we can turn back now and Floo-call him that an emergency at St Mungo's came up."

They stood there for a few seconds in which Hermione fiddled with her necklace and mussed up her hairdo before she finally straightened and continued walking. "I promised Molly gossip. Don't sneer." She slipped her hand into his. "I'm counting on you to help me unearth all their dirty little secrets."

They walked the last few yards to the door in amiable silence. Only then did Severus let go of her hand to ring the bell.

They were greeted by a beady-eyed house-elf wearing a spotless blue uniform. "Welcome to the Malfoy residence, sir and madam. I am Blodder. Should I take the present for young master Scorpius? Please follow me."

Hermione's eyes had widened during the elf's accurate little speech. Blodder accepted the parcel from Severus with his spindly fingers and led them through the grand entrance hall to a porch at the rear side of the house. Their steps echoed on the stone tiles.

Severus smirked. Hermione was radiating curiosity; he estimated Blodder had another minute at most before her restraint broke and he would have to face a barrage of questions. Maybe the dignified house-elf recognised the inquisitive gleam in Hermione's eyes, because at the door leading outside he bowed, and after a squeaky "Enjoy your stay" directed at the ground, he quickly Disapparated with a soft pop.

Hermione swivelled round to face Severus. "He was wearing clothes. And how he spoke... What does that mean?"

"There's a new fad among the pure-bloods who did not openly oppose the Dark Lord but did not agree with him, either. They don't want to get lumped together with his followers who got away, and they use house-elf rights as their agenda."

"And Draco agrees?"

"From what I can gather, he agrees with everything his wife proposes."

"That doesn't sound like the Draco Malfoy I knew."

"Which I have been telling you all along."

The former Greengrass elves had been horrified to have to accept a salary and only agreed to wear uniforms tailored out of towels, but Severus saw no reason to share that knowledge all at once.

What he hadn't told Hermione and was not going to, on the other hand, was that Draco had complained to Severus that his house-elves had a day off whenever he needed them; whatever for, he had not said, but having shared a common room with Lucius, Severus guessed it involved a hair brush and a nail file.

Hermione bent forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Gossip has it that it's only a marriage of convenience?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You can tell Molly she's wrong. If Draco was only after money and influence, he could have married Miss Parkinson. No, he is head over heels in love with Astoria, and I'd say she feels the same about him."

Draco had found his perfect match in her: she was a smart lady of society, good-looking in the cool and detached way the Malfoy men were suckers for, but most importantly, she kept him on his toes. Draco's life would have taken a different turn without her, and not for the better.

Severus's gaze was fixed on the carving on the wall panels without actually seeing it. "You could say Astoria is for Draco what you are for me."

He was startled out of his reverie when Hermione pecked him on the lips out of the blue. "What was that for?"

Hermione just smiled. He glanced around and, assured that they had no audience, put his hands on her waist and kissed her back. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," she said and shook her head, still that serene smile on her delicious lips. A few strands of her rebellious hair escaped her pinned updo and framed her face, making her look like a fairy queen. "I already like Astoria," Hermione said and started grinning. She skipped down the stairs into the garden. Maybe the queen of pixies, then. Severus trailed behind, puzzled but confident in his victory.

The Malfoy garden party and the Weasley equivalent didn't differ much in idea, only in scale. Instead of two rickety tables, there were half a dozen with a cold buffet served on silver plates, decorative ice sculptures under stasis charms in the shape of fish and flowers and more house-elves in uniforms that served drinks to the eighty or so adults Severus could see standing around. A throng of children milled around the lawn a safe distance from the refreshments. A couple of wizards in bright yellow robes stood by the hedge and piled up large boxes sporting the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes logo while a bit further down the lawn, two witches in red opened bulky crates and bent down, apparently checking the contents.

Severus spotted Astoria and Draco talking to a member of the Wizengamot whose name eluded him at the moment. Scorpius was perched on his mother's arm with his face buried in her shoulder, leaving only platinum blonde hair and expensive tailored robes visible. He might have been asleep for all the reaction their arrival got out of him. Severus felt the first tendril of doubt reach for his plan, trying to choke it like Devil's Snare. Astoria, on the other hand, was a dark-haired, graceful witch, charming and equally polite to Severus and Hermione when she noticed them and came over.

"We are grateful that you could make it, Severus. Don't mind Scorpius; he is a bit shy. I'll go inside with him for a bit. We will have opportunity to catch up later, I hope. Miss Granger," she said, and the two women exchanged a friendly nod.

She then kissed Draco, who had torn himself away from his other guests and joined them, on the cheek and left them alone. Scorpius's feet bobbed up and down with every one of her steps. Not once had he looked up, and Severus started to feel a bit queasy. It didn't make him feel better that the second Astoria's back was turned, both Draco and Hermione assumed the polite society version of the duelling stance with stiff backs, arms close to the body and fake smiles that showed more teeth than Hagrid's accursed three-headed dog Fluffy.

"Thank you for coming, Severus, Gran...Miss Granger," Draco said through his smile.

"I'm always happy to meet a friend of Severus'," Hermione answered in the same polite tone of voice.

At the mention of his first name, Draco winced and darted a glance at him. Severus suppressed a sigh. Children. Draco wouldn't be happy to know that Potter had winced in a similar fashion the first time he had met Severus and Hermione as a couple. It had been quite amusing, back then, until Severus had realised that the reason was jealousy and not disgust as he had initially thought.

Severus watched Hermione and Draco smiling some more while each of them was looking at him to put them out of their misery.

"Yes, yes, we're happy to be here, Draco." He awkwardly put his arm around Draco's shoulder in what he hoped was a fatherly fashion; it wasn't like he had a well of positive memories of his father to draw on. He had to have done something right because Draco's face lit up like the Christmas tree in the Great Hall. Severus hastily crossed his arms before his chest. "Tell me, how is your mother faring in France?"

"Oh, she's doing fine. She sends her love."

"She's not here?" Hermione asked and craned her neck like she waited for Narcissa to jump out of the hedge. Severus could not blame her after her war experiences with the Malfoys. He knew she had only accompanied him because she knew how much it meant to him, even if she didn't know why it did.

"Mother feels that her presence here would make some of the guests uncomfortable, and she doesn't want to spoil Scorpius's big day," Draco said in matter-of-fact manner without a hint of resentment.

Severus nodded. Lucius had been the driving force behind following the Dark Lord, and Narcissa didn't hold a grudge against Severus because of his role as spy since he had saved her son. For the majority of the magical population, on the other hand, Narcissa was persona non grata for different reasons, depending on which side they had been on during Voldemort's reign.

"You have organised a lovely party for him," Hermione said with more warmth in her voice. "I see you bought from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

Draco nodded. "They have the best fireworks. We also hired the Magical Menagerie for the day. They are new in the business, but Astoria's sister recommended them."

"Really? I read about them in an article in the Prophet. It sounds fascinating! George, um, George Weasley, told me they were looking into making a deal with them. About selling miniature figurines, of course, not the big puppets."

Severus only listened with half an ear while he scanned the crowd. The novelty of seeing him and Hermione together hadn't worn off, apparently, judging by the curious and in some cases downright hostile looks they got.

"Let's take a look, Severus, shall we? I want to know if they're as life-like as everybody says they are."

Hermione waved at Draco, who waved back...Severus had no idea how that could have happened in the thirty seconds he hadn't paid attention...and dragged Severus through the throng of guests. Nobody met Severus's eye, but in their wake he could hear them whisper "much too young", "her teacher" and, of course, "Death Eater" and "murderer". Severus ground his teeth and pushed on; if Hermione heard them, too, she didn't show it, and he didn't want to draw her attention to those cretins. He was forced to let go of her arm and fell behind when a stocky young wizard stood in his way and jostled him.

"Over here," Hermione called.

Severus looked up and saw a gigantic snake fly straight at him.

oOo

Severus slunk into the bedroom where Crookshanks snored loudly in the laundry basket and Hermione was already in bed and, as a heroic sacrifice to her sense of duty, read the revised edition of Charm Your Own Cheese that Molly had given her for Christmas. The prospect of Molly finally going one cookbook too far and finding herself looking down the business end of Hermione's wand, as amusing as it was, failed to cheer him up this time. A shower had not been enough to wash away the horrors of the day. He dove under the covers and closed his eyes.

"Draco Flooed. There will be no problem with the puppeteers from the Magical Menagerie."

The less said about it the better. It was testament to the trials he had endured that he did not feel even the tiniest spark of lust when he snuggled up to Hermione. The day had gone downhill the minute they had entered the Malfoy garden. Only a few people invited, Draco had said. A small affair. Severus should have known that the Malfoy version of a few people meant at least a hundred, most of them parents with children under five. Thanks to the Malfoys the plan had gone tits up, and he now needed a new one.

"Apparently, the company wanted compensation at first because you blasted their snake to smithereens, but when Astoria pointed out that it was their employee who had lost control over it, and that children could have been hurt if you hadn't acted, they were quick to apologise."

Scorpius had been a disappointment. Oh, it was possible that he actually was the well-mannered child Severus had pictured and hoped for, but as far as Malfoy egos and their need to be the constant centre of attention were concerned, the boy was seriously lacking. A Malfoy with performance anxiety? Lucius would not be amused.

That is not to say that Lucius had much to be amused about nowadays, even with the Dementors gone from Azkaban. Draco hadn't mentioned him, and Severus had seen no point in asking.

"I've been thinking," Hermione began, still frowning at the picture of a glowing Shropshire Blue, and Severus perked up at her tone. Maybe not all was lost yet.

"I didn't want to say anything earlier..."

"Yes?"

"...did you also have that feeling that, well..." Severus scrambled on his elbows, and Hermione finally looked at him with her warm brown eyes "...is Draco going bald?"

Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.

Severus slumped back into his pillow. This year Draco would find no Bleaching Potion under the Christmas tree.

oOo

After a good night's sleep, Severus had calmed down. Hermione kissed him goodbye and Flooed to work at St Mungo's, and Severus climbed down the cellar stairs to his potions lab. Here in his private lair, he chopped ingredients, the potions bubbled in their cauldrons, and when the air was filled with the familiar fumes of a lifetime, he could concede that the debacle was his fault. It had been a long shot to begin with and had hinged on a factor Severus had no control over. Well, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. The potions were all simmering at uncritical stages, so Severus wiped his hands, made a pot of tea upstairs and had a cuppa in his makeshift office in the second cellar room he had moved into so that Hermione could have his upstairs office. Theoretically, the upstairs room was big enough for the two of them, but he had fled from Hermione's clutter. Her creativity thrived on chaos, on heaps of haphazardly stacked books stuffed with colour-coded bookmarks until they looked like rainbow-coloured hedgehogs, while his mind needed order to unfold its potential.

He sipped the hot tea while he thought some more. So, phase two of his plan. Backup plans were for Gryffindors who rushed in without thinking; Slytherins crafted plans that covered every possible outcome. His gaze fell on the rickety bookshelf crammed with obscure potions texts, and it occurred to him that he had better check something else first.

On the bottom jammed between two unwieldy tomes stood the plain, slim hand-written book that Severus needed. He plucked it from the shelf and opened it. The journal had been written with a dreadful scrawl by a mediaeval witch gathering the potions she needed for her daily work as midwife. Only his years of marking homework enabled Severus to decipher the chicken scratches.

After his coma he had had to deal with the fallout of Nagini's venom. For the first weeks he had suffered from dizziness, numb fingers and toes and, most annoying, temporary loss of his voice. Strangely enough, the venom had also solved his oily hair problem, at least temporarily. These after-effects had only lasted a month, but Healer Smethwyck had warned him that he might face more permanent long-term effects, most notably sterility and impotence. What a glorious morning it had been when, about two months after that, Severus had woken up to find his todger proudly greeting the day. He hadn't wasted a thought on sterility; as far as he had been concerned, his equipment had done everything Severus needed it for. Maybe it still did, but he had to make sure of that.

He was looking for the Sterility Solution, a simple but reliable way to test if a man could sire children. Of course there were newer and more sophisticated fertility potions; Severus regularly brewed them for St Mungo's. Their colour could tell a healer if Mr Bollywoggle's chances to spawn little Bollywoggles would improve if he stopped smoking and swore off the Ogden's, but they also took at least two days to brew. Severus didn't want to risk Hermione walking into his lab and asking which one of the hospital's patients the potion was for.

Severus thumbed through the book, stopped and turned back two pages. Well, if push came to shove, he could volunteer to take that Seahorse Elixir here and carry their child himself. He read the instructions until he came to the next page that had a crude illustration drawn next to the recipe. Severus did a double take, carefully crossed his legs and decided he would rather endure hour after hour of Cruciatus before doing something that foolish.

Enough time wasted; on the next page he finally found what he had been looking for. He skimmed through the page and nodded to himself; he had just enough of the needed ingredients left for one dose. Excellent.

With all the necessary ingredients arranged in orderly rows on one side of the cauldron and the journal put on the other, Severus started brewing in his lab. It wasn't challenging work. The crucial factors were to add the sperm sample directly into the potion and not collect it first in a cup, or it might get contaminated, and to do so not later than...here Severus craned his neck and squinted...not later than fifty minutes after adding the Belladonna seeds.

Severus set the Matty, the magical timer used by potioneers all around the globe, which was named after its inventor, Hatty McLeod, a genius tinkerer with no sense of time but a solid business acumen to make up for it, stirred the rod one last time and dropped the purple seeds into the cauldron.

There was enough time to let the potion cool down, decant a tumblerful and go up into the bedroom, fetch the old edition of Playwizard hidden under his side of the mattress, settle down to some pleasurable business and collect the spoils.

"Miaow."

"Get out, you flea-ridden, oversized mouser! Shoo!"

Crookshanks obviously was in no mood to listen. He jumped on the table and landed on the battered journal.

"You know you aren't allowed in here!"

"Miaow!"

Severus grabbed the protesting half-Kneazle, threw him out of the lab and closed the door behind him. The potion was undisturbed, but the book had fallen off the table. A tiny flake of dirt crumbled off the page when he picked it up and dusted off the paper with his hand. Where there had been written a comfortable fifty only seconds ago was now a challenging five.

Five minutes.

For ten precious seconds out of that five minutes, Severus's mind went blank; then the adrenaline rush set in and he bustled about the lab with hectic activity. First he tapped his wand on the Matty and changed it to five minutes; it changed its colour from a friendly blue to a nice orange and hummed at a low frequency. If this batch was ruined, Severus had to wait and order new ingredients before he could try again, but with the potions he had to start today because Potter's new Auror recruits had walked into a training trap and set a new record on acting stupid, his tight working schedule in the next days to catch up on his regular orders and the weekend looming, he would lose a whole week. But only five minutes...

The Matty hummed louder and the dial emitted a yellow glow.

...but only four minutes and thirty seconds left. Apparition with the potion at this stage was out of the question; hurrying up to the bedroom would take too much time. He couldn't just drop his pants in his lab. It was unsanitary, and how would he be able to work here in the future? That left the office. A flick of his magic wand...the wooden one...and the door to his office flew open with a loud bang; the cauldron and the Matty floated over to his desk with Severus close behind.

Four minutes.

Severus ripped off his robe and pulled his trousers and pants down in one go. It was awfully chilly in his office; he hadn't really noticed before.

The Matty grew louder.

"Alright, alright!"

How hard could it be? Severus looked down. Not hard at all, unfortunately. He took matters into his hand. A fantasy, but which one? The one of them under a Disillusionment Charm and Hermione giving him a blowjob at Flourish and Blotts and they had to be careful not to be caught? Sex in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts after hours? Hermione as the librarian punishing him for stealing a book? And what the hell was wrong with him that all his fantasies contained books?

The Matty chimed once. Severus took a deep breath, closed his eyes and got to work. The time they came back from Arthur's party. Oh, that was nice. The curve of Hermione's hips under his hands. Yes, that was working. The Matty chimed again, at a higher frequency, and reminded Severus that while it was nice that he had fun, he'd better hurry up and finish sooner rather than later, how about in the next two minutes, 'kay?, and Severus dug out one of his most prized memories, so precious to him he seldom thought of it lest he taint and distort it somehow.

Their first time together, how Hermione had shoved him against the door, all pushy and gloriously determined and how they had ripped their robes in their haste and how his knees had gone weak when she had moaned in his ears, like they did now, and he put down his free hand on the desk for support, ignoring that the chime in the background turned into an aggressive buzzing, the signal that only one minute was left, and that the edge of the desk top cut into his thighs, because that only reminded him how they had ended up on the stairs and he had ripped her stockings off and she had dug her heels into his backside to have him closer, closer and she had been so hot and he had lost it and oh Hermione she was and he was and they were and oh fuck yes now yes...

Severus bucked once, twice, in sync with the magical timer that skipped and skidded over the desk, then quickly opened his eyes and witnessed through the curtain of stringy hair that clung to his sweaty face that he was bang on target and right on time, too, because the Matty wailed one last time and tipped over. The potion in the cauldron was the same dull brown colour as before, rather anticlimactic really, but the whole process took one to two minutes before there was a reliable result. Severus hobbled over to the chair on shaky knees, made a half-hearted attempt to pull his pants up where they belonged and then just gave up and slumped down with his briefs dangling around his ankles. Short fuse, loud bang, just like their first time, only less embarrassing. He had been mortified, Hermione disappointed, but she had let him make it up to her, twice, before they went at it again and it was perfect.

A tiny bubble broke the potion's surface and burst with a soft pop, then another, and another. A golden oily sheen formed before at last a sparkling mist rose in triumph from the cauldron and spread over the ceiling, a swirling and pulsing testament to Severus's fertility.

Severus leaned back his head to enjoy the view. He was feeling rather chuffed with himself. The answer to his other question suddenly seemed pretty obvious to his mellowed mind; it was swimming in that cauldron right now. Not literally, of course, but he realised he had put the cart before the horse. Instead of dangling children in front of her nose, he had to circumvent her impressive higher brain functions and appeal to her animalistic side, the part of her that acted on instinct and checked men against the evolutionary blueprint that said 'father material'. It was also obvious to him that he needn't bother trying to fit into the 'protector' or 'provider' blueprint; Hermione was a powerful witch more than capable to protect herself, and she knew only too well how much money Severus made. No, he would go the carnal route.

Severus was a thin man, had been downright skinny, even, for as long as he could remember, but after Nagini's attack he had lost so much weight he couldn't spare to begin with that he had resembled a gaunt Inferius. His muscles had atrophied, and while he had gained a stone again with time, he hadn't regained his old strength. At Hogwarts he used to walk miles during the day, from down in the dungeons up to the Great Hall during meals and to the Astronomy Tower during his rounds and through the Forbidden Forest to collect ingredients and didn't break sweat, but lately, he had become complacent and sluggish. Nevertheless, Severus was top-notch father material, and before long, Hermione would come to realise that, too, yes indeed. In phase two of his plan, he would put an end to the deplorable state of his body and get back into shape. Although it was high time to buff himself up, he could do so step by step in addition to his other undertakings.

Reproduction was essentially a matter of biology, and from now on he would remember to treat it as such. He was potent, and Hermione was young. They had plenty of time.

oOo

Severus was running out of time. Time, stamina and pain killers; why on earth had he been too chintzy to brew one last batch again? He slowly heaved his aching body into their bed without his usual grace. Luckily for him, Hermione was engrossed in perusing The Official Highway Code...this was the latest requirement in order to fulfil the ridiculous new tightened Ministry regulations for Muggle liaisons...or he would have been forced to put on the graceful potions master persona for her and risk grievous injury.

In the beginning he had started out slowly with taking the stairs in the house at a run at least ten times a day and Apparating to a location a mile off his destination when going out and walking the rest of the distance. He now dropped off his potions for St Mungo's in person instead of sending the sturdy owl all their potion suppliers were provided with. This had the advantage that he could pry Hermione out of her lab and treat her to lunch in the cafeteria.

After the first week had passed with no apparent progress, he became impatient and upped the ante. He started to clean his cauldrons by hand, scrubbing their encrusted and stained bottoms until their shiny surfaces reflected his face. While it was an oddly meditative experience and improved the dexterity of his fingers, it wasn't the full-body workout the rumblings of his pupils about their detentions had led him to believe.

Really, had he known sooner he would have found something worse for the spoiled brats to do.

After the second week with neither any muscle gain nor any leisure time to speak of due to all the extra hours he spent scrubbing and walking, Severus was ready to explore new avenues. Instead of just scrubbing his cauldrons, he used them as dumb-bells. He started with the standard size two copper cauldron, just the right weight and felt good in his hand, and that went so well that he soon worked his way forward to the big knee-high kettle lovingly called the Macbeth by connoisseurs. That resulted in a pulled muscle and a dent both in his ego and the cauldron respectively and was the reason he resumed taking the pain reliever slash muscle formation potion he had to take after his coma. Luckily, he had one vial left and was thus spared the humiliation of being seen buying the potion. He couldn't lift his injured arm to open the bottle, let alone brew with it. He used his teeth to uncork the vial.

Thereafter, he changed back to the middle-sized weights, just in case, and brewed a month's supply of his potion.

With his arms and chest nicely taken care of in his training workload, he was looking for a way besides the stairs to improve the muscles in the rest of his body. In Hermione's bookcase stood a book on yoga, but the Macbeth debacle was fresh in Severus's mind. He didn't want to sigh out his soul on the bedroom rug knotted up like a pretzel, so yoga was out.

He needed to go on a mushroom foray anyway, so he Apparated deep into the forest and just started to run. His lungs soon burned and his thighs protested, but he ploughed on, only stopping long enough to transfigure his boots to trainers and his dress trousers into black tracksuit bottoms after an oncoming jogger eyed him suspiciously and then gave him a wide berth. His shirt he left as it was; the collar concealed the snake-bite scar on his neck and the long sleeve covered the fine silvery scar where his Dark Mark had been.

He frightened an old lady with her dog when he crashed through the underbrush back onto the path only a few yards from her. The malicious part of him gleefully registered that he still had it in him to spread terror, only to have the woman ask if he was all right...her poor husband had looked that red in the face before he had his heart attack...just a minor one, don't worry, but wouldn't it be better to slow down and make an appointment for a check-up just in case? She droned on and on until Severus was out of earshot, but her unleashed terrier followed him.

Severus tried to outrun the nasty bugger, but the dog, tongue lolling and stubby tail wagging, chased him happily around the lake until Severus slipped on a wet stone, lost his balance and landed in the smelly water with a loud splash. The resident swans were a bit aggressive...nothing a well-aimed hex didn't solve...and the cool water was invigorating, so no harm done. He should have felt mortified and threatened the swans to stay away or he would pluck their feathers one by one and manufacture them into quills to then Disapparate in disgust and order his mushrooms at Slug & Jiggers, but he didn't. Instead, he felt gorgeously alive with the blood rushing through his veins and a rivulet of cool water running down his back. Somewhere between running for his life and swallowing a pound of duckweed, his physical awareness had come out of hibernation.

He waded back to the shore and splashed the yapping dog with the water he wrung from his hair. Too bad Hermione couldn't see him rise from the waves like a demigod, his white shirt clinging to his wet, flushed body warmed by the summer sun; the whole scene could have been lifted straight out of one of her Regency romances. Severus sniffed at his shirt. Apart from the smell, of course. Oh, well, he had started to take three showers a day anyway to keep his activities secret from Hermione.

That secrecy was now about to end. Severus lifted his stiff legs one by one, and accomplishing that was no small feat, then rolled on his side and arranged his limbs in a suggestive pose. For weeks now he hadn't disrobed in front of Hermione, slept in his old nightshirt and made love to Hermione in the dark to maximise the surprise effect. He had sacrificed his leisure time to run, lift weights and cook a whole meal at noon because his appetite had gone through the roof. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, but it had been worth it.

His naked skin glistened in the candlelight because of the oil he had carefully applied, in agony in some difficult-to-reach places. He didn't have a stitch on; he had thought about investing in new underwear and in the end decided against it. He'd seen a nice pair of briefs in Slytherin green when they'd been shopping for Scorpius's birthday present, though, that he only hadn't gone back for because he wasn't sure if the string in the back wouldn't chafe.

Severus knew the time for the grand reveal had come when the bathroom mirror whistled at him when he came out of the shower.

Hermione had yet to look up from her book. Severus coughed.

"Just this paragraph."

Severus coughed again, and finally, she put down her book and looked up.

"I'm all ears...oh." She poked at his pectoral muscles, pinched his upper arm and then withdrew her hand as if burnt. "So I wasn't wrong. You did feel different," she said at last.

Severus thought she appeared rather pensive than surprised; had to be the light playing tricks on his eyes. Maybe he should have waited until after her test, but there was no turning back now. "Like what you see?"

She rubbed her thumb and index finger together and sniffed at her hand. "Did you use my body oil?"

"Come closer and find out," he purred and slipped his hand under her nightgown.

She frowned. "Again?"

"I didn't know it was such a great hardship for you."

"It's just we did it yesterday."

"So?"

"Twice. And the day before."

"I fail to see your point."

"And the day before that." She bit her lip and looked up at him. "Is this about me being so busy lately? It's not much longer, I promise." She shoved her book under the pillow as if to emphasise her point. "I know driving lessons three times a week is a bit much, but I want to get it over with. Look, now that I've passed the theoretical part it's only the practical test left."

"It's not about your driving license. I don't need a special reason to desire you. In fact, if you're that worried about your test, why don't you take lessons on the remaining weekdays, too?"

"Um. Really?"

"Yes, I don't mind."

"Oh. You don't. Huh."

Severus leered at her. "Now, where were we?"

Hermione picked up his hand and planted a quick kiss on his knuckles. "Sorry, I'm just tired with work and the driving lessons. Another time, okay?"

Without waiting for his response, she blew out the candle on her bedside cabinet, lay down and turned her back to him. Severus blinked against the sudden darkness as he went through their conversation again. Not subtle enough or just plain bad timing? Not yet ready to admit defeat, he decided to try one last time with his best move: the back rub. He felt his way across the bed under the cover until his fingertips reached Hermione and then ran his hand up her back in one long stroke. Her shoulder was tensed and hard under his fingers. He gently dug in and kneaded the stiff muscles, but unfortunately, it wasn't working that night. He waited for a reaction, a sigh, a purr, but nothing. When he peeked over her shoulder at last, he could see in the dim moonlight shining through a gap in the curtains that Hermione's eyes were closed. Apparently, she was fast asleep.

In a way he was relieved. Disappointed as well, yes, but the physical exertion of the last few weeks had left him exhausted. A night off wouldn't hurt. On the contrary, he could use a good night's sleep, just this once, to renew the strength for when Hermione was in the mood to rip his clothes off and test his newly found agility. He yawned and pulled the blanket up to his chin. At least she hadn't been able to take her eyes off him, he thought and smirked in the darkness. Everything was still going according to plan.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and although he might have subconsciously registered if Hermione got up soon after, he wouldn't have been able to remember it in the morning.