Chapter Six

VI.

...

It didn't take them long to find the entrance to the registrar's office, though it did take them half an hour to wait in the queue. Severus surreptitiously handed Hermione one of the stacks of paper-money, and let her handle the residency paperwork, listing their place of residence as her parent's home, for lack of a better Muggle-world location. A bit of obfuscation was necessary, as Hermione distracted the clerk with some well-timed questions; Severus muttered a charm to make the man think he had seen Severus' identification papers, while at the same time Hermione coaxed him through the process of inputting Severus' identity into the government's database, doing a little subtle spellcasting herself to get him to cooperate...his records being absent was just some temporary glitch in the computer system, she was absolutely sure...

The fee requested for processing the license proved to be the least burdensome aspect. A third of the money Severus had stuffed into his pockets, the third that he passed to Hermione to pay for it, proved to be literally over a thousand pounds. Severus was a little dazed, since even he knew the exchange rate between Sickles and Pounds wasn't that great a difference in parity.

For her part, Hermione could barely contain her astonishment, counting out the necessary money and receiving the change from the clerk. Only when they had stepped out into the winter sunshine again did Hermione whisper incredulously to her fiance of less than an hour the amount she was carrying. A discreet check of his pockets proved to hold similar amounts in the other two stacks he had pocketed from Albus' generous hands. His first instinct was to hand as much of it back to the Headmaster as possible, and Hermione muttered as much to him, being of a similar mind...but then Severus remembered the look in Albus' eyes when the older wizard had bidden him to purchase his wife-to-be 'something nice', and deferred the decision. He would find her 'something nice'.

In something of a daze, they perused the chapels available. One of them had an opening in an hour and a half, while a couple of the others within walking distance were already booked for the day. That was well within their margin, and the two of them decided it was worth the wait to have a guaranteed time-slot. However, it was still a bit of a wait. Determined to follow through on his employer's orders, Severus directed Hermione back outside after securing their appointment.

Guiding her down the street, he drew her into a jeweler's shop. He couldn't wear rings as a Potions professor; the presence of a metal on his fingers might run the risk of tainting an ingredient somewhere along the line. He also couldn't wear a wedding-band as a Death Eater. She couldn't really wear any rings herself, not openly while she was still his student...but after a bit of muttered arguing, he got her to pick out a wedding-ring anyway. She chose one cut in a relief of orange-blossoms that circled the band, and he selected a long length of sturdy gold chain to clasp around her neck, meant to discreetly hang the ring beneath her clothes while she was still attending school. The rope-style chain had to be custom-cut from a thick spool, and fitted with a sturdy, soldered-on clasp by the jeweler. That took up most of the hour, though only a small portion of their wedding-money.

While Hermione watched the jeweler working, and asked her inevitable plethora of questions, Severus perused the display cases, his employers' admonition about a wedding-present still in his mind. There was a wide range of jewelry, from the elegant to the charming, from the intricate to the plain. He knew Hermione's ears were pierced, and thought about the earrings on display. One of the items for sale, he almost dismissed, but something in the inch-long composition drew his eye back to it before he moved on to the next case. Double-checking, he blinked and stared, then blushed. A glance at Hermione showed her still occupied at the other end of the shop, chatting amiably with the jeweler, so he gestured the other clerk over, muttered what he wanted, and managed to get the clerk to wrap and ring up the purchase for him before she could notice.

Christmas was coming, after all. Last year he'd gotten her a stack of rare editions for her to read, a safe, platonic gift from a pen-pal. This year...well, their relationship wasn't platonic anymore. He had new books tucked away in his quarters to give to her, but this was a little something extra that he couldn't resist.

Once the chain and ring were pocketed, they left the jeweler's and returned to the chapel. Since the place didn't have signs prohibiting food or drink, Severus and Hermione sat in the foyer on a padded bench, sharing his pocketful of biscuits, her chips, and the sourdough-chicken sandwich while they waited. Neither spoke much, hyperaware of the Muggles within hearing range...but their eyes met every once in a while, his dark and glittering, hers tawny and warm. Sometimes she blushed, sometimes he smiled. Sometimes she grinned, sometimes he smirked. Once in a while a frown would pinch the brow of one or the other, witch or wizard, but a shared glance or a touch of a hand to elbow, forearm or knee smoothed it away.

And then it was their turn. The previous wedding party lingered, a Mr. and Mrs. Derek Campbell; needing witnesses, Hermione asked them...catching them between kisses...if they'd be willing to stay a few moments and fulfil that requirement. Mrs. Katherine Campbell eyed the age-difference between Hermione and Severus somewhat askance, but she and her husband willingly complied, wrapped up in their fog of newly-marital bliss thoroughly enough to not really care in the end about someone else's May-to-December relationship.

The ceremony was short, devoid of most of the trappings of a full Anglican church service, yet poignant all the same. They clasped hands literally over an anvil, though it was hard to see the stout, dark metal under the plethora of flowers and greenery bedecking the heavy iron mass. When it was done, they kissed over the anvil, too, a soft, gentle kiss, mindful of their audience. The appropriate papers were signed by all involved, and Hermione admired the ring on her finger as they walked back to the clerk's office, waited once again in the queue, and had their papers copied and filed by the registrar. Taking the original sheet plus a spare copy with them, they returned to the alley, grasped the coaster when they were alone, and Ported back to Hogwarts.

The sound of voices from the Headmaster's office told them they were not alone. A swish of her wand at each of them, and Hermione Transfigured their clothing back to normal. Severus smoothed his clothes, took a deep breath, then took the lead, heading for the door. He gestured for her to follow him inside. His brisk knock was followed by the Headmaster's raised voice bidding them to enter.

Professor McGonagall was in his office, when they entered. She eyed the approach of the Potions Master with equanimity, but eyed the Head Girl's presence with confusion. "Miss Granger? What are you doing up here?"

"I...Professor Dumbledore wanted me to think about submitting some of my papers for publication in trade journals," she cobbled together quickly, glancing at the Headmaster to make sure he would go along with the idea. "Since some of them involved Potions theories, I asked Professor Snape to give me his honest assessment of the possibility...and to my surprise, after reviewing my papers a second time, he said the idea had merit."

"Of course, she'll need to actually test her theorems, before daring to submit any of her ideas as articles in the truly serious journals," Severus disdained. "Which means she'll need to spend time in the Potions lab. I told her she shouldn't bother getting her hopes up, since I don't have the time to supervise such nonsense, but she seemed to think you would heartily approve of the idea, Headmaster," he finished in a bored voice.

McGonagall beamed at Hermione, and looked at her employer expectantly. "This is wonderful news! I've already thought a couple of her Transfigurations essays were of publication-quality, myself."

Hermione, glancing at the portraits, caught sight of one of the redoubtable Headmistresses peering at her, not bothering at the pretense of being asleep. The woman mouthed some words at her, then pointed at her hand, or rather, at her ring-finger with an enquiring look. Guessing that the woman wanted to know if she and Severus had been successfully married, Hermione turned just enough to hide her actions from the others and lifted her left hand into view. Displaying the ring. It didn't take much thought to acknowledge the various past Headmasters and Headmistresses were aware of the situation between her and Severus, after all.

The painted, stately woman clasped her hands together, beaming, then quickly settled into a fake nap as Professor McGonagall glanced her way. Hermione stuffed her hand into her pocket just as quickly, vowing to put the ring onto the necklace as soon as she discreetly could. As much as Minerva McGonagall was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, as much as she knew how valuable Severus' position as a spy was, she'd probably hit the roof with a full and furious blast of her Scottish temper, the moment she learned the Potions Master, Head of Slytherin, had just married one of her Gryffindor pupils.

"Well, Miss Granger? Have you anything to say to Professor Dumbledore's approval?"

"...I promise I'll do my best to not let you down, sir," she cobbled together, wishing she hadn't missed whatever the Headmaster had said.

"I believe Hogwarts' reputation will be safe in your hands, Miss Granger," Albus praised her. "I'll expect a list of the papers and copies of the originals that you think are suitable for publication to be placed in my hands before the end of the year. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, if you can think of any papers of Miss Granger's that stood out in your minds as suitable for publication, do let her know. I'll also speak to Professor Vector about Miss Granger's Arithmancy performance, since those were among some of the original works brought to my attention."

It was something of a dismissal. Hermione turned to go. Severus, however, lingered. He fished inside his clothes, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Here's that copy you wanted of the paperwork we were discussing earlier."

Handing it over, he waited while Albus unfolded the Muggle photocopy and perused its contents. Nodding, the Headmaster refolded it and slipped it into his desk drawer, pulling out a thick manila envelope in its place. "Thank you, Severus; I'll deal with it appropriately when I have a free moment. Study the contents of this on your way out; it regards the next step in your current project."

Mystified, Severus accepted the package, nodded, and left. He found Hermione lingering out in the hallway, listening through the partially open door as Minerva questioned Albus about Severus' fictitious 'current project', and his vague reply that it was something to help prepare for the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. It was the truth, after all, if vaguely phrased.

"What's in the envelope?" Hermione whispered as he shut the door behind him, her curiosity an inevitable part of her. She was busy, he noted, stringing her ring onto the rope-chain he had bought for her and looping it around her neck. A practiced flick of her hand tucked it underneath her jumper as he watched. Then again, she had practice from her year with that Time-Turner, he recalled.

Glancing at the door, Severus opened the envelope and extracted two small boxes, one bearing his name on the lid, the other hers, and a folded sheet of paper. Craning her head, she moved to stand at his side, reading the letter along with him as she took the boxes so that he wouldn't have to balance them while trying to keep the letter open.

'Dear Severus & Hermione;

Post-Script: This letter will self-destruct the moment you let go of it, so please re-read the instructions one last time before they vanish. A.D.'

Severus and Hermione exchanged a look, then bend their heads to the note once more, carefully memorizing every word. Only when Hermione nodded her permission did Severus release the paper, letting it waft halfway to the floor before it suddenly flashed and vanished, leaving only the faintest trickling of dust to fall to the hallway floor. The boxes vanished, too, leaving Hermione holding both bracelets with a disconcerted blink.

"Well, Miss Granger; we have our assignments." Liberating one of the bracelets, Severus eyed it, then pushed up his sleeve cuffs and held out the bluish-silver metal, its links made of chased rectangular sections alternating with tiny coil-wrapped links. "Your assistance would be appreciated."

"Of course, Professor." Fastening it around his wrist, she watched him tug his cuffs back into place, then held out her own. "Would you...? Please?"

Obliging, he fastened it around her own wrist...then tugged her close, kissing her briefly before murmuring in her ear. "Keep the remaining money. It's a wedding-gift from Albus. Buy me something nice for Christmas, if you like; you've still got an hour before sundown and the end of your Hogsmeade day, if you hurry. And don't forget your other assignment. The list of book-subjects, my office, eight o'clock sharp."

"I do remember, Professor. You'll have your list," she promised.

Another swift kiss, and he turned and descended the stairs. She hurried after him, catching up to him before the stone steps started spiraling downward. The door to Dumbledore's study opened, a voice called out to them, and Severus flicked out his wand, stopping the rotating steps as Minerva bustled out into the hallway. Affecting an impatient look, he waited for her to join them, then set the stairwell in motion again. The trio descended back into the public sections of the school, as McGonagall asked Hermione about some of her better Transfiguration essays. Snape stayed his usual, taciturn, silent self.

...

*Mione,*

Hermione jerked her head up from the jumble of old homework scrolls she was sorting. The hovering, pale blue letters flickered and spread across her vision, glowing like the blue of a gas-fire, and shimmering like an opalescent smear of oil across water. She blinked, but the lettering remained in her vision.

*I will have a pair of Slytherins in detention, when you arrive at 8. I will consequently be in the classroom, not in my office.*

Severus. The iridescent, spider-neat scrawl in her vision belonged to Severus. She blinked again and concentrated on the words as they arrived, apparently literally as he wrote them.

*Remember, do not treat me out-of-character; there will be time for that later. Let me know you have received this,

Rus*

A terse note, at best. The topmost words started to fade out. Hermione snapped her fingers quietly, concentrating. A bluish-silver stylus appeared in her hand. It looked much like a mechanical pencil, save that the little cylinder at the tip where the lead would come out was actually rounded over, allowing the tip to glide over the surface of the nearest scroll with ease. It also caused a blue-fire line of ink to appear in her vision. Concentrating again, she composed her reply.

*Rus,*

She had to pause there; a rectangle flowed into view, transparent enough for her to see what was going on around her...not much, given she was seated at her desk in the Head Girl's bedroom...but solid enough for her to manipulate. The rectangle contained little icons, picture-symbols, and a glowing little quill that she supposed was the magical equivalent of a computer cursor. One of the icons was an envelope with the letters 'mm' on it, one was two simple figures of heads and shoulders with a two-way arrow between them, the other was a trio of heads within the arc of a circular arrow. She puzzled it out, and decided she wanted the envelope, which was the icon currently encircled by a glowing golden light, was for straightforward mailing. Not e-mail, which is short for electronic mail, but...but m-mail, I think, for magical mail, she decided, deciphering the letters. How clever...

Bending her head to her desk, since it was her default writing position, she tapped the envelope with the stylus as soon as it lay on the surface of the desk in her vision, and composed the rest of her reply.

Your Mione*

A moment of thought, and she added in post-script,

*P.S. I'll have the prospective essays with me to discuss as well, to cover the reason why I'm down there.*

A small pair of scroll-icons had appeared at the bottom, one marked Send and the other marked Cancel. She tapped the 'send' one with the cursor-quill. Setting down the stylus, she reached for a scroll...and watched the inkless pen fade quickly from view. So that was how it returned itself to the bracelet. A pen that could never be lost, so long as the bracelet wasn't removed from her wrist. Given the complexity of the catch, she didn't think it would be easy or quick to remove, let alone that it would fall off accidentally. Shortly after the pen faded, the lettering of her own note faded as well. It was replaced a moment later by more of his handwriting.

*Beloved Mione,

Rus*

That was a challenge she couldn't pass; a snap of her fingers, and Hermione scrawled a reply. This time, she tapped the two-way symbol. Two names came up: Albus, and Rus. She tapped on Rus, highlighting his name briefly in a sparkle of golden light. As suspected, a transparent image of a scroll appeared in her vision as the sparkles faded away, and her words appeared on its surface as she started to write again.

*Beloved Rus,

Mione*

His reply was swift.

*Mione, I told you I wouldn't pressure you; you have nothing to worry about! Rus.*

She smiled slightly, remembering her thoughts to the contrary, from earlier. *I'm not the least bit worried. I'm talking about sexual frustration fretting, not shy, reticent, virginal fretting. I'm a bloody Gryffindor...if I'm scared about something, I tend to leap out and grab it, to conquer my fears!*

She waited for his reply, wondering if the icon allowed her to get away with not using his name, even if it was only his nickname; her words did leap up on the scroll, but she had to make sure he received them.

*Mione, I intend to remain a gentleman, and allow you to make the first moves. But only when you are ready. Though if you want to leap out and grab me tonight, like the lioness you are...I am entirely at your disposal for that experiment, too. Rus.*

*We're in chat-mode, Severus...that two-headed, two-ended arrow thingy that's glowing at the bottom of the scroll. You don't have to keep writing my name at the moment,* she informed him. *Or even your own.*

*You will have to explain it to me when we are together in person, then... Unfortunately, I have papers to grade, what with the end of the term looming so near. I will see you tonight.*

*Ttfn.*

*...Ttfn?*

*Ta-ta for now. It means bye.*

*Oh.*

Hermione suppressed a giggle into a grin, as their words faded out. She dropped the stylus, and it and the scroll faded from view. The thought of teaching Severus Snape, pureblooded wizard, all about Muggle chat-room conventions was an amusing concept. She even wondered if the creators of this system had included the concept of 'smiley' emoticons, but marshaled her thoughts sharply back to her previous tasks. There were plenty of scrolls for her to sort through, before she was due to bring him her assignments, tonight. She wanted to have all of her homework out of her way, before seeing him tonight.

...

Sure enough, when she entered the Potions classroom, there were two third-year Slytherin boys in the room, one scrubbing the floor and the other scrubbing the desks, sweaty from their efforts and damp-splotted from the cleaning water being sloshed about magiclessly. They were miserable-looking, too, clearly unhappy about having to scrub everything by hand like a pair of Squibs. Hermione couldn't summon much in the way of sympathy for them. It wasn't that they were Slytherins; it was simply that, if they...as Slytherins, a part of his usually overly-favoured House...had done something horrible enough for Professor Snape to assign them a detention, they surely deserved their misery.

Skirting the puddle of the one working on the floor, she approached the desk. Severus looked up from the scrolls he was grading. "You're five minutes early, Miss Granger. I said 8 o'clock, not 7:55."

"I merely thought you'd appreciate getting this over as quickly and painlessly as possible, Professor," Hermione replied just coolly, knowing he was speaking this way because of their audience. Opening her book bag, she extracted the scrolls within it. "Here are the copies of the Potions essays I thought might be suitable for the project the Headmaster wants me to do. I thought...I thought the sooner they were in your hands, sir, the sooner you could read and have done with them."

"I'll get to them over the holidays. I have more important things to concentrate on right now than the pretentious, scribbled babblings of an insufferable know-it-all." Bending his head, he snapped his fingers, clasped the silvery-blue stylus that appeared, and scrawled, *Mione, forgive me...*

"I...understand, Professor. I will let Professor Dumbledore know you have received my proposed Potions scrolls. So long as the selections are made by the deadline, that's the important thing."

"Go," he ordered her impatiently, before scratching the stylus across the page as she turned away. *Mione, you clever girl. Threatening me so subtly with the Headmaster's disapproval, if I don't attend to these scrolls by New Year's Eve. Are you sure you shouldn't have been Sorted into Slytherin?*

It wasn't easy, controlling the urge to smile as she swept past the two sullen Slytherin boys. She put a little extra swing into her walk, just for the Potions Master's benefit, in case he was watching her depart. As she left, more words scrolled into her vision.

*Mione...be ready to step through the looking-glass by 10 o'clock.*

She let the smile bloom as soon as the classroom door was closed.

...

Hermione cocked her head at her image. Too ruffly? A flick of her wand. Too lacy? Another flick. Too see-through? Yes, definitely too see-through... Face red as she looked away from the clear details of her nipples and knickers, she flicked again, concentrating. Too slinky? No, it's sophisticated, but not overly so. I like this one. Let's see about the colour, then. Too pink? Yes, too pink. What else should I wear, though? Red? Blue? Green? Ooh, silver...that's a part of his House-colour; I think he'd appreciate that. And I do look good in silver.

A flick changed the sheath-style nightgown, held in place by spaghetti straps, from the pale pink of her camisole to a simmering silver. A tap lengthened the side-slit, drawing it all the way up to the curve of her hip, baring a strip of her leg...and the elastic leg-band of her pink silk knickers. Too much skin? Down a few inches. The seam repaired itself under the prodding of her wand. Now it reached just below the curve of her hip. She didn't like that, though, and restored the higher version. Prodding her knickers, she Transfigured them to something even more wicked than lace-edged briefs. The material morphed into a silvery tied-on style. Fluffing out the bow so that it nestled outside the edges of the gown, she eyed her reflection. The satiny bow gave the nearly unadorned slip-dress a delicate, feminine air, and yet a slightly naughty feel to it, too.

It did make her reconsider her gown, though; turning around, Hermione aimed her wand carefully as she glanced over her shoulder, scooping her hair out of her way with her free arm. A prod of magic, and the solid back of the gown became a web of silvery lacings, baring her back all the way down to her waist. The straps over her shoulders, still spaghetti-thin, became bow-ties. Facing the mirror again, she contemplated what to do with her hair as she let it fall back down around her shoulders, some of it bouncing down her back and a few ringlet-like locks draping over her breasts.

Her image faded and dissolved even as she lowered her arm, toying thoughtfully with one of her curls. It was replaced by a foreign room, and a black-clad body. A stunned, gaping, black-clad body, one hand clutching convulsively at the frame he was touching, the other hand fumbling up as well to the far side of the frame to brace himself. From the pallor of his face, she'd rendered him both breathless and speechless.

Hermione smirked. She liked seeing the unflappable Potions Master caught so fully off his guard, and deliberately...and courageously...trailed the chestnut curl caught in her fingertips down over the peak of her breast, using her own hair to tickle the silky, shimmering material and the flesh that lay underneath. He swallowed, closed his mouth, and shifted his hand from the frame into the plane of the mirror. It emerged on her side of the glass.

A thrill of trepidation coursed through her, and a mixture of uncertainty and excitement. Placing her hand in his, Hermione allowed him to assist her across the threshold. The plane of the mirror felt like a cool shower as she stepped through; the warmth of the bedroom beyond was a comfortable contrast. In fact, it was warmer than her own room, making her wonder at his need to keep his classroom so icy-cold. Probably to help preserve all those ingredients, and to cut back on excessive heat during the brewing process...I know that careful, exacting temperature control is a concern for some of the more advanced potions, and heating something up is easier to control than cooling it down...

Why the heck am I thinking about potions, when I should be thinking about my h...my husband? I can't believe I'm still having a hard time thinking of that word, let alone saying it! Hermione steeled herself to say the 'h' word, over and over if necessary, to desensitize herself to it. Their marriage had been very swift, as swift as the revelation of his identity as her secret correspondent; she wasn't surprised some of the impact was only hitting her now. It was one thing to think about being with him intimately when she was alone. Thinking about it had been stimulating enough for her to craft herself a slinky, sexy nightie like this. It was a different matter to actually be alone with him, in his quarters, knowing that the only practical, hands-on knowledge she had of sex were a few snogs from different boyfriends. The rest of her knowledge came from watching a few love-scenes in movies during summer breaks, and reading a lot of books on the subject, some of them technical, even clinical, the rest nothing more than trashy romance novels.

And his letters. Rus'...Severus' increasingly erotic letters. She had read those, too. Oh, and there was this morning's encounter, in room 28 of the Three Broomsticks. That definitely counted as practical, hands-on experience... Hermione realized she was mentally babbling, and focused on his bedchamber as a tangible anchor to settle her thoughts. It was somewhat like her Head Girl suite, she realized. Wardrobe, bureau, bookshelves, two doors, one closed but no doubt leading to a bathroom, the other standing open, giving her a glimpse of what looked like a sitting room with yet more bookshelves.

The tentative touch of a warm palm on her waistline made Hermione aware of just how low she'd Transfigured the back of her nightgown. Part of his hand lay on the silk, and part covered the skin of her waistline, somewhat webbed from the fanciful lacings crisscrossing her spine. Strange, how a simple touch on her back made her abruptly aware of her front...and aware of how taut her nipples were growing.

Could she do this? Could she consummate their marriage with a man she knew very well, yet didn't know nearly well enough? Hermione was at least willing to try, even if she didn't know how far her courage and nerves could be steeled for the task. It helped that his voice...that liquid, bittersweet-chocolate voice...flowed over her nerves, soothing her from the ears inward.

...

"This, as you can see, is my bedchamber. Allow me to give you a tour of the rest of my domicile, such as it is. That door over there leads to the bathroom. It is a utilitarian room, sink, toilet, shower, and bathtub, nothing to be excited about. You'll have need to see it sooner or later, I am sure, so you can admire it then," Severus murmured, taking her right hand in his and keeping his left hand on the small of her back. Guiding her in front of him, he pushed her gently into the sitting room. "This is my parlour. The door over there leads to a spot in the dungeon corridors roughly halfway between my office and the entrance to House Slytherin. I'll show its location to you another time. Preferably over the Christmas holidays, when there will be fewer chances of our being noticed together in the halls. But you should really use the mirror to come and go from my quarters, to minimize the threat of anyone noticing us interacting with each other out-of-character."

It was a casual conversation that he offered, dry and slightly witty, but utterly platonic in topic. He'd seen the momentary panic in her eyes. Well aware of how tenuous their relationship still was, he didn't let the sight of her in that sexy-as-sorcery slip of a nightgown tempt him out of his plans for the evening. And it tempted him, especially when he noted the sway of her young hips as she moved into his sitting room, her silvery-clad hips moving in a natural, subtle sashay that complemented the lacings of the gown peeking out from between the soft tangle of her chestnut curls.

The soft exclamation that escaped her lips when she saw all the crowded bookshelves ringing the room soothed and excited him. With unconscious volition, she picked up her pace, releasing his hand and padding straight for those shelves. When she lifted her hand and trailed it slowly over the spines, caressing each volume as she tilted her head this way and that to read the titles, Severus experienced an unfamiliar pain in his heart. It wasn't quite envy, being a bit more personal than that, but it wasn't quite jealousy, either; they were only books, after all. But he did feel a mixture of the two, along with a deep longing to be the subject of so much attention and devotion.

Padding up behind her, Severus cleared his throat softly, reaching up to capture her hand. "Now, now, Mrs. Snape. You'll make me jealous of mere books, caressing them as lovingly as that. This is technically our wedding night; you shouldn't be turning to another love in your life to fulfil all of your pleasures. Not quite so soon in our marriage, at least."

She blushed, as she glanced up at him over her shoulder "I...sorry. I just love books. You, ah, know how I am."

"Mmm, yes. And you know how I am, too. But there is more to life than reading and learning. There's exploring and experimenting, too."

Letting warmth, even a touch of humor colour his words, Severus pulled her gently away from his shelves, over to his settee. Positioning her just so in front of the sofa, he dropped down onto the seat, twisted to brace his arm against the rolled, padded armrest, swung one booted foot up onto the cushions, and guided her down between his parted leg and knee. She blinked, hesitated a moment, then turned to parallel him. A scooting squirm, and she snugged up against his groin, reminding him that he was still hard from that breathtaking moment when he'd touched the mirror and triggered the Portal.

Lifting her legs onto the couch, she squirmed a bit more, demurely recovering her right leg when that breath-stealing, high slit in her gown exposed the whole limb. Severus took a moment to compose himself, then lifted and planted his left boot on the cushions, cradling her in place. A touch of his hands, somewhat unsteady, guided her into laying back against his chest. She settled, squirmed, settled again, then sat up with an impatient sigh.

"I can't get comfortable. All those buttons keep poking me in the back!"

Severus dropped his left leg back to the floor, giving her room to twist around and face him. Here was a gilded opportunity to get her accustomed to touching him. "If they offend you, wife, then I suggest you undo them and remove their presence. You should do it personally, to make sure the job is done correctly. I know how much of a perfectionist you are."

She blinked, blushed, and licked her lips with a visible trace of hesitancy. But, being Gryffindor, Severus knew what she would do. Sure enough, she nodded, cleared her throat, and reached for the topmost button. "As you wish...husband."

He felt his heart skip a beat. From his own perspective, Severus was going to use the title of 'wife' as much as feasible when addressing her in private, partly to accustom her to their new relationship, partly to accustom himself to addressing and treating her as such...and partly because he liked the possessive, primitive sound of the word. Apparently, his young wife had the same idea. To accustom herself to saying it, himself to hearing it...and was that a faint spark of desire in her eyes when her lips parted and touched, forming the two-syllable word?

Endure. That was the word for what Severus had to do, as she gingerly unfastened the first button, and then the second. Her fingers fumbled a bit on the third, making her blush. He schooled his expression, tending it carefully so that it remained gentle, so that the habitual frown he normally wore around everyone...including her, in public...stayed firmly locked away. When she fumbled worse on the fourth button, and started to stammer an apology, Severus slid his fingers over hers, silencing her. Lifting each hand to his mouth in turn, he kissed her flesh, letting his eyelids drift shut as he focused on soothing the tremors in her hands. The shifting of her weight told him he had succeeded beyond expectations, for she leaned into his chest...pressing her soft breasts against his hard body...shifted their joined hands out of her way, and brushed her lips against his.

He could endure this, too. Hell, he could enjoy it. Freeing her hands, Severus slid his own along her arms, over her shoulders, and down that damned, devastating latticework laughing called the back of her nightgown. Sliding his hands over her derriere, Severus could just manage to cup her curves, rocking her subtly, gently into their kiss. Rubbing her against his wool-covered groin. She ended their kiss with a sound akin to a whimper, only softer. A shift and she pulled back, sitting up just far enough to be comfortable as she reached for his buttons again.

Opening his eyes to slits, Severus enjoyed the sight of a frown of concentration shaping her face. The expression was very familiar; it was the one she wore whenever she was crafting a complex potion in his classroom, or composing one of her numerous essays up in the school library. It was enervating and yet humbling at the same time, knowing he was the focus of her current attentions. With the trembling of her fingers eased through their kisses, she worked efficiently on his buttons, unfastening them. Her hands slid up the opened seam, pushing aside the folds of black wool as she caressed his abdomen, his chest, and finally his shoulder, pushing the coat halfway down his arms.

That trapped his arms, but Severus didn't move to free himself. Not when she slid her fingers up over his shoulders and down the planes of his chest, stroking him from collarbone to waistline. Her fingers collected over his navel, slid to the nearest shirt-button, and started unfastening that as well. He didn't have the heart to stop her, though he'd had something else in mind, bringing her here rather than staying in his bedchamber. No, he didn't have the will to stop her, as the tickling slide of her hands stimulated his nerves, hardening his flesh. When she pushed his shirt, too, over his shoulders and dipped down to press her mouth to his sternum, dusting soft, slow kisses in a path towards one nipple, he decided enough was enough.

It wasn't easy, getting to the wand tucked up his sleeve as she kissed her way to his other nipple; her actions were inexperienced and therefore a little hesitant, but willing to experiment on his flesh. Disciplining his mind, Severus flicked his wand, concentrating through her ticklish explorations. His clothing Transfigured off of his body, parting as each piece fell away from his limbs and reforming seamlessly as the wool and cotton slumped limply to the settee and floor. He left his boxers on, so as not to startle her; as it was, she gasped softly, lifting her head and blinking down at the revelation of most of his body.

The pockmarks on the right side and the purplish scar on the left of his torso weren't his only scars. He had pale white scrapes on his calf from his encounter with a certain three-headed dog, another scar from a childhood injury on his left, and a stab-wound high on his left thigh, still somewhat pink and relatively recent, garnered just last summer. And the Death Mark, the hated brand scarring the flesh of his left inner forearm. But it wasn't his scars that her fingers traced, nor revulsion or even flinching in her eyes. Instead, he found his breath robbed from his lungs as she traced the definition of his muscles, the tautness of his thighs, the clenching planes of his stomach as her fingertips tickled it, the bulge of the bicep that tensed automatically the moment she slid her palm all the way up to it in an exploring caress.

He wasn't some overgrown Muggle body-builder; Severus had put all of his efforts into strengthening his lean frame simply so that he could survive, not compete for some silly trophy. But he felt, under her gaze, that he had won a prize. Far more lean than muscular, his body still had a great deal of tone and definition from his daily efforts...and from the look in her eyes, Severus now had a new reason to keep his body fit. She liked it. That was motivation enough for him.

Her gaze traveled down the length of his chest, noting the sparse, fine black hairs, the thin treasure line that led into the waistband of his boxers. Black, of course. No dingy grey briefs for him, these days. And, despite the wonderings of some of the more adventurous students...every year the rumors reached his ears...there weren't any silly serpents printed on them. Plain, straight black. Tented black, at that. Drawing in a breath to tell her they had other things to do, Severus found the words arrested in his throat, and the thoughts frozen in his mind, when she shifted a little for balance and wrapped her hand around him through the soft, dark cotton.

Her fingers didn't stay respectfully still. They shifted and flexed, testing the warmth and the hardness of his penis. Unable to stop himself, he dropped his head back with a groan, twitching his hips up into her grasp. It had been so bloody long since he'd felt even such a simple, questing touch from another hand...

Somehow he made his left hand shift and grip her wrist. Halting her in tentative mid-stroke. As far as Severus was concerned, he was not going to ejaculate in his clothes again today. He couldn't help the husky growl of his voice as he ground out, "...I don't believe in repeat performance of that kind, wife. Not after doing it once already, today."

Her fingers tightened for a moment around his shaft, making him lift his head and open his eyes, giving her a stern warning look despite the pleasure that shivered through him. She let him go, somewhat subdued by his glare. Pulling her hand up to his mouth, Severus turned it just so, nuzzled it for a moment with his nose, then licked her from the soft skin of her wrist, up through the centerline of her palm, to the base of her fingers. Where he prodded rhythmically with the tip of his tongue, caressing her between her middle and ring fingers as he held her gaze.

That made her tremble, the breath shuddering out of her lungs. Taking her middle finger into his mouth, Severus laved it with attention, suckling and licking it, before slowly drawing it from his mouth. "Now that I have your attention... I actually brought you out here for something else. Turn around, and lie back."

Hermione eyed him warily, then twisted and settled back against his chest and stomach. She shifted a little, sighed impatiently, and craned her head back. "There's something else hard that's poking me in the back. Shouldn't I...erm...take care of that, too?"

"Hush. Accio scroll." Lifting his leg back up onto the cushions, Severus caught the roll of parchment that flew into his hand. Proffering it over her shoulder, he waited until she took it before explaining what he wanted. "Untie it, roll it open, and read its contents aloud."

"Yes, Professor."