Chapter Eight

VIII.

...

Thrice given. Severus bowed his head, closing his eyes. He couldn't refuse a permission that was thrice-given. Well, he could...but he wasn't going to turn her offer down. Shifting off of her, Severus uncorked the bottle, readying it for collection, then picked up his wand. He wasn't going to turn her down, but still... "Are you absolutely sure you want me to collect the most I physically can?"

"Yes. Well...the most you can stomach to collect. And being mindful that I know where you sleep at night," Hermione added, a trace of nervousness in her voice.

Leaning over her, Severus braced his weight with his wand hand, and cupped her cheek with the other. "In the same bed as you, Mione." His fingers slid to her forehead, caressing a few stray curls from her brow. "Every night, in the same bed as you." He started to shift his weight again and paused, meeting her gaze. "Don't look down. For both our sakes."

Hermione gave him a puzzled look, but flicked her eyes upward as he shifted again, choosing to stare at the canopy. Severus drew a bracing breath and cast the necessary charm. He'd never used it on himself, but he'd seen it used on those Death Eaters selected for this sort of moment; unwilling virgin's blood wasn't very potent, so it was necessary to gather a lot in order to get the same effect as a few drops of the other kind. Harvesting a lot of blood meant rending the maidenhead brutally, and the best way to do that was with a specific shape...and an increase in size. The Transfiguration hurt a little, tingling from glans to scrotum, but the pain didn't last long. Glancing down at the changes unnerved himself; Severus could only worry about how she would react if she saw the alterations, too.

Grasping himself, he settled the tip against the bubble of liquid, and spoke the second half of the charm, lubricating his shaft as he rested against the opening beyond the spreading dew. Repositioning his hand, Severus gently stroked her clitoris, bracing his weight with his other hand. The angle wasn't perfect, yet. "Lift your legs," he directed her. "Wrap them around my waist."

She complied, cupping her hands around his shoulders as she squirmed a little, getting comfortable. "Is this right?"

Severus nodded. He was at the right angle, now. All he had to do was stroke her back up into another orgasm. Staring into her eyes, he watched her as his thumb circled and stroked, petting the bundle of feminine nerves. She wriggled, moaning softly.

"That feels good... More...faster...yes, like that!"

"Good; feel your arousal. Ride it...yesss," he hissed as her breath hitched, her body shuddering and her eyes rolling shut in pleasure. "Perfect. Now, take three slow, deep breaths..."

Inhaling, she held it, then exhaled a controlled stream of air. It quickly became a moan as he rubbed her rapidly, keeping the mild but still intoxicating pleasure going. A second inhale, and he nodded slightly to encourage her...and thrust while she was still exhaling. The rest of her breath escaped in a hoarse shout. She choked, trying to gasp for air, fingers digging bruisingly hard into his shoulders. Her thighs clenched on his waist, trying to hold him in place. His positioning was too good, and when she drew in another breath through clenched teeth, Severus thrust a second, deeper time. Hermione yelled and grabbed his hair, yanking on it painfully.

"...Dammit! That hurt!" she swore, tugging sharply on his hair as he shifted his weight to thrust once more.

"A third time, and we'll be done...breathe, Hermione; keep breathing deeply," he ordered her, bracing himself for the final thrust. "You promised I could collect as much as I could."

The scowl on her face warned him he was going to pay for this moment, but she breathed deeply. He gave her four deep breaths before thrusting a third time, rending her flesh to the hilt. She screamed and yanked his head painfully back. Freeing a hand, he aimed it blindly in the direction of the nightstand, and just managed to grasp his wand.

"Accio bottle!" The vial, placed beyond his reach, smacked into his palm. Catching it, he worked it down between their bodies. He'd done this part too often to need a wand. "Colleguinum!"

Magic tickled around their nether regions. Pulling carefully out, feeling fresh liquid trickling and swirling into the vial, Severus waited until he felt nothing more, then thumbed the wire-sprung cork into place, activating the stasis spell cast on the bottle to keep its contents permanently fresh. Now that the painful part was over, he could disenchant his flesh, and soothe her own with the pomade on the bedside table. It helped that she'd finally released his hair, allowing him to lower his head back to a comfortable position.

"Finite incantatem," he murmured, tapping his penis so that it returned to its normal size and proportions. "Accio jar."

Hermione flinched away from him when he opened the jar, smeared something mint-green on his fingers, and reached down between her legs. "Please...don't hurt me anymore!"

That made him flinch, inside. "Shh, shh, this is a healing salve, Mione. It will numb and repair all of the damage. I promise, I will never hurt you like this again. Never."

"You'd better not," she muttered, resentment colouring her voice. Her breath hissed through her teeth as he smeared the salve as gently as he could on her abused flesh. "In fact, you'd better just get off me. I don't want to do thi..."

Severus leaned down and covered her mouth with his own, cutting off her words before she could complete that statement. He'd done as she'd told him to do; he'd be damned before she took this moment to her grave as the only memory worth keeping of her first time in his bed. He'd certainly be damned before he'd let her discomfort become resentment and reluctance to ever be in his bed again. Awkwardly scooping more of the salve with his fingers, he worked it into every fold of her flesh he could reach, avoiding only the peak of her clitoris. If he numbed that, he'd have a hard time arousing her again for a while. A third scoop of the cream, and he slathered it over his own flesh. Blessed numbness took most of the edge off his arousal; he had a long way to go to restore her trust in his ability to pleasure her, before he could sate his own needs.

Abandoning her nether regions as the cream absorbed into their flesh, Severus wiped his numbed fingers on the sheets, then used that hand to brace himself over her as he continued to kiss her. She responded only hesitantly, but he kept his kisses gentle; he wasn't going to demand a response until the last of her reluctance had faded from memory. Freeing his left hand, he feathered it over her shoulder and arm, stroking her gently to re-stimulate her desire. He left her mouth after a few more minutes, kissing his way to the corners of her eyes and the damp, salty tracks of her tears.

Trailing his fingers all the way down to her wrist, he lifted her hand to his mouth and sucked on her fingers, making her breath hitch...in pleasure, thankfully, not in pain. It was going to take time and patience to restore her trust in him as a lover, but it was going to work. Time, he had. Patience, he had. Neither in infinite quantity, but there was time and patience enough to restore her trust in him.

Indeed, by the time the numbness left his fingers, she was panting and writhing under the touch of his mouth and hands. Her knees splayed and twitched like the restless wings of a butterfly as he licked the insides of her knees, her breaths turning to gasps as he nibbled on her ankles, her voice rising in moans and her fingers digging into the bedding with need as he suckled her toes. Hips twisting restlessly, she seemed ripe for plucking, but Severus had to be absolutely sure. With the numbness finally gone from his flesh, his own need was acute. Releasing her toes, Severus gave them one last lick, then asked,

"What do you want, Hermione? What do you want me to do?"

"I... I need... I need something...something...need...oh, god, Rus, I need you!" she moaned as he licked along the seam of her curling, scrunching, splaying toes.

Lust enflamed his nerves at her passionate demand, but it was a mixture of relief and love that burned in its wake, stronger than mere desire. Settling his body over hers, he closed his eyes in relief as she wrapped her arms and legs willingly around his torso. Hermione dragged his head down to hers, lifting her own so she could pepper his face with hungry, unpolished kisses. It took only a moment to find the right spot, and a moment more to catch her lips with his own, and a breath to sink gently into her body; his breath escaped him even as hers sucked sharply in a last moment of tense apprehension. A moment later, a sigh of pleasure passed from her mouth to his as her body relaxed painlessly into the invasion.

It didn't hurt her. Well, there was a stretching sensation with the first gentle thrust, but compared to earlier, it didn't hurt at all. And when he withdrew and plunged slowly back in again, the rubbing excited nerves Hermione hadn't known existed in there. His mouth left hers, his dark hair brushing her face as he dipped his lips to one ear.

"I promised you," he whispered to her, "I would never hurt you like that again. I will keep my promises to you, my Mione...my own...my wife." Each possessive phrase was accompanied by another delving of his flesh into hers. The velvet of his voice wrapped around her senses as he increased the pace and power of his thrusts. "I will bring you every pleasure a man can give to his woman, lift you to such orgasmic heights and plunge you into the sensual depths you have only dreamt about, drown with you in bliss and soar with you in ecstasy. I will give you all of my love, for all of your life, for I will be your salvation...I love you...I love you...I love you..."

Her body arched off the bed, wracked with a tight, shuddering pleasure triggered as much by the force of his words as the force of his flesh. Feeling her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, Severus broke from the slower, steady strokes into a rapid pounding, letting himself go. She had found her pleasure in copulation; now it was finally time to seek his own.

Seeking his own pleasure prolonged hers. Hermione clung to him, overwrought with sensations as he plundered her body. His name...his nickname...escaped her throat, half-strangled with the urge to yell. "Rus...Rus Rus Rus...god! Oh, God! RUS! "

"...Mione!" he grunted, stiffening as his own climax pulsed out of his body and poured into hers. Collapsing on her, hips still thrusting somewhat erratically, he clutched her to him, burying his face in the curve of her throat. "Love...love..."

"Oh god," Hermione sniffed, not knowing when her tears had started, just that they damped her eyes. She held him tightly. "I love you, Severus..."

He spasmed at her confession, grunting with the aftershock of pleasure it incited. Dragging his mouth up to hers, he kissed her for a long moment, then reluctantly pulled back. Brushing a few wisps of curls back from her face, he looked down at her. She lifted her own fingers, brushing at the liquid streaking his skin. Thankfully she said nothing about the source of that salty moisture, just cupped and caressed his face.

"...That was beautiful," she finally sighed. Then wrinkled her nose. "But...I think I'm lying on your wand, and it's digging into my ribs. And my ring-necklace is trying to choke me, because it's caught behind my shoulder..."

Severus kissed the tip of her nose, shifting to move off of her. She kissed him back on his own nose, then helped him off, blushing as his softened shaft slipped free of her body. They found the jar and its lid, some of the mint green contents smeared on the sheets, and the vial of maiden's blood. Hermione paled as she picked it out of the tangled bedding, staring at the quarter-cup or more of deep red liquid it contained. Taking the vial before it could fall from her hand, Severus caught her trembling fingers, bringing them up to his mouth for a kiss. "Never again, Hermione. You were very brave, but it will never hurt like that again. I promise."

She blinked, blinked again, then frowned at him. "...Don't be ridiculous, Severus. It will hurt far worse than that whenever I get around to having children. Mind you, I don't want any for at least a few years. I do want some, but I'm not in a ravening hurry to be a mum. Erm...if you don't mind having some in the future, that is..."

Knowing he had paled a little himself at the thought of children...him, having children of his own...Severus swallowed his fears. "...I'm certain you will be a good mother. And I hope you'll show me how to be a good father, too. But you're right; we cannot indulge in such things right now. Not while I'm still a spy, and certainly not while you're still in school!"

Nodding, she handed him the vial. "Here's the blood. What are you going to use it for?"

"It's yours, actually. You'll be a very wealthy woman, if you choose to sell all of it," he reminded her. A wry hint of a smile twisted his mouth. "You suffered for it, so you should profit from it."

"How long will the stasis charm last?" Hermione enquired.

"Ten years."

"Then we'll sell some of it and keep the rest, in case we have a need for it later. But...but not right now," she amended, hastily lifting a hand to smother a yawn. "Erm...I'm sorry, but I'm kind of tired. You, ah, wore me out, just now."

Severus couldn't help the smugness that curved his lips into a smile. "Pleasantly, I trust?"

"I'd almost think you didn't need a ruddy instruction manual, on what to do with your own 'Granger-Snape'," she retorted humorously. "But I'll write you one anyway."

"So, what will it say at the top of the list?" Severus asked her, flicking his wand to clean the sheets before twisting and putting it, the bottle and the jar back on the nightstand.

"Oh...hug your Granger-Snape lots, 'cause she's a very huggy person," she offered slyly, pulling the blankets up from the foot of the bed. He caught her in his arms, dragging her down on top of him, embracing her.

"Like this?"

Hermione checked to make sure she was lying on his pockmarked side, not the side with the painful, purple scar. "Mm, it's a start. And kiss your Granger-Snape, anywhere you like, though on the lips and the hands are always good places to start."

"And may I caress my very own Granger-Snape?" Severus offered, suiting actions to words.

She shivered. "Try keeping your Granger-Snape warm in a cold dungeon bedroom. The fire's died down since we started."

A stretch for his wand, a flick of his wrist, and the bedroom warmed. Another flick drew the blankets up to their shoulders. "Done." He paused as she yawned again, then asked, "And if my Granger-Snape is tired?"

"Mmm," she signed, snuggling up against him. "Definitely tuck your Granger-Snape into a nice, soft bed, and murmur in that sexy voice of yours until she falls asleep. In your arms, by preference."

"Every night," Severus promised her. He glanced at the clock by his bed, debating, then stretched and activated it.

"...You're turning on your alarm?" Hermione asked him as soon as she realized what he was doing. "But, it's Sunday, tomorrow."

"I rise and exercise every morning. It keeps my reflexes sharp and my body fit enough to survive." Severus hesitated, then picked up the clock and turned the alarm back by forty-five minutes. "But I'm willing to wake up a little earlier to make love to you first thing. It will make for a very pleasant warm-up activity."

She gave him a skeptical look. The effect was somewhat ruined when he extinguished the candles around them. "Are you going to expect me to get up and exercise with you?"

"It is a good idea. I've found being physically fit allows me to survive punishments and perils more readily than if I were flabby. But you can go back to sleep after we make love in the morning, if you'd rather," he promised, lying back down and gathering her close in the dark. "Now, settled down. We both need our rest, my love."

"Goodnight, Rus." She paused a moment in thought, then squeezed him gently, adding, "I do love you."

"I'm glad you do. More than glad," he amended, squeezing her back, "but I can't think of a word that's strong enough for it. Just...please remember that I love you, even when I'm back to playing the role of the sour, ill-tempered bastard that was all you used to know. Because I will, with no outward deviations from before. And don't try to show any love towards me when we're out and about in the rest of the school. I'm afraid you'll have to become as good an actor as I've learned to be. I should probably even give you lessons in Occlumency, just to be on the safe side...though I wish you'd promise to stay out of trouble. I don't want anything to happen to you, and that would simplify the matter."

"Asking a Gryffindor to stay out of trouble is like asking Hagrid to not breed any new creatures," Hermione muttered teasingly. "I'll be as careful as I can; that's all I can promise. After all, I'm a married woman, now. I've got a husband and future children...to think about," she retorted, pausing for another yawn. "Can't leave you a widower, or them without a mum..."

"Go to sleep, my Mione."

"G'night, my Rus."

...

*Mione, brace yourself, love. I'm about to be cruel to you. I wish I didn't have to be, but I do, and you're not going to like it. Please do not take this personally. *

Hermione blinked at the words flaming across her vision. She tucked her hand under the surface of her desk on this, her first day in his class as a secretly married woman, and snapped her own stylus into her hand. Bringing it up, she scribbled on her notes, *Rus...I understand, and I won't. Or at least I'll try not to. *

*Good.* Professor Snape rose from his desk and started strolling between the desks. He made half a circuit of the room before stopping at Hermione's desk. "Miss Granger, are you aware that the potion calls for finely grated arimanth root?"

She glanced reflexively at her textbook. "It doesn't say that in the instructions, Professor."

"If you had all day to dissolve the ingredients, then yes, it wouldn't matter. Five points from Gryffindor for wasting class-time, and start again...and another five deducted for such profligate waste of costly ingredients!"

That was over the top. She waited until he moved on before snapping out the stylus again. *Rus, you bastard! Arimanth root is one of the cheapest ingredients available at this school. Professor Sprout grows them in Greenhouse Seven, and sells the excess down in Hogsmeade by the tonne!*

He didn't reply until he returned to his desk. It took a few moments before he scratched a reply, hitting the two-way symbol she'd explained over the last of the weekend, in her lecture about the Muggle Internet and Instant Messaging. *Mione, I told you, you wouldn't like it. And to not take it personally. Professor Severus Snape is a capricious, bigoted bastard who is willing to stoop to find any reason he can to belittle a Gryffindor and slap down a know-it-all. Now hurry up with re-grating your roots; you haven't got all period to perfect the brew... Forgive me? *

*Are you going to be nice when I come down to you? *

*I'll make it up to you. *

*Good. Because otherwise I'd have to short-sheet your bed...and that would make it awkward for me when I climb into it. *

*Do not make me laugh while I'm trying to be a bastard, my love. It would be a terrible breach-of-character.* He punctuated the words by lifting his head from his writing to give her a brief, black scowl that would've unsettled her in an earlier year. Now she knew it was merely superb acting.

*Sorry. *

*You can make it up to me tonight. Now, get to work. *

...

Hermione glanced up at the ceiling, sighed heavily, and stepped out of the bathroom, knotting her dressing gown around her waist. "I swear, one of these days you're going to leave visible footprints, Severus."

"Who...would...notice?" he grunted between stomach-crunches, black locks flying as he stood inverted on the ceiling, twisting and bending at the waist and knees.

"The house-elves might. And if you give them more work to do..."

"...Please!" Severus snorted, which came out a bit oddly because of his upside-down position. He relaxed his exercises, letting his arms dangle below his head. "I've never known a house-elf to clean a ceiling, unless Peeves was caught writing naughty words on the plaster by one of them. Are you sure you won't join me this morning?"

"I wish I could, but I promised Ginny I'd help her cram before breakfast for her Charms test." Kissing her fingers, she reached up and touched the back of his hand, wobbling on her toes a little. He smiled down at her, and she smiled in return. "I love you, very, very much. Certainly more than the inconvenience of cleaning footprints off our ceilings for the rest of my life."

"I love you more ways than there are stars that swirl in the sky." He paused, then added with a flash of a grin, "Or maybe that's just because of all the blood rushing to my head...no, I definitely love you at least that much."

She sighed extravagantly. "You're making it very hard for me to compose myself back into Miss Granger, Head Girl and snarking-target of the Potions Master."

"If you joined me up here, we could make love upside-down," Severus coaxed, holding on to her fingers.

Hermione gave him a dubious look. After three months of secretive marriage, he could still surprise her. "That's not in your Granger-Snape's manual. You know how I feel about heights."

He snorted again. "It's not even fifteen feet, counting up at the ceiling! I could make you forget your fear of heights, you know."

"It wouldn't stop there, though," she pointed out, unwinding the towel from her hair and rubbing her curls. "First lovemaking while upside-down on the ceiling in our bedroom. Then maybe sneaking a snog up above the illusion on the ceiling of the Great Hall...and for an encore...on a broom, over the Quidditch pitch," she mock-shuddered. "Even if our toes are only five inches off the ground, the thought doesn't appeal to me."

"Well, we can always start smaller, like halfway up a wall," he mocked.

"I'm terrified the Wall Crawl Charm will come unglued halfway through."

Walking over to the side wall, Severus stepped across the corner, angling his body sideways. He strode along the wall to the bathroom door, stooped...relative to the wall...and opened it, then stepped carefully onto the broad stone lintel. "Come over here, my love."

Hermione shook her head, but not to negate his soft command. Rather, it was to dispel the dizzying view of him standing upside-down in the doorway. Tossing the towel at the hamper, she padded over to the doorway. "Yes?"

"Closer, please."

Stepping up to him, she squeaked when he wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs and tugged her close enough to brush up against him. Reaching up, or down, whichever perspective it was, he unknotted her sash and parted the folds of the dressing gown, then grasped her thighs and tucked his head between them. His lips nuzzled her nether regions, making her suck in a heated, shuddering breath. Fumbling with the waistband of his boxers, she freed his semi-erect shaft, reciprocating lick for lick without hesitation.

It didn't take long for him to growl, push her away, and scramble upright, feet planted firmly on the floor. A mutter to cancel the charm, and he grabbed her again, this time whirling her towards the wall by the doorway, hitching her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. She sank onto him as he pressed her back against the wall. He grabbed some of her damp hair, pulling her head back so he could suck gently on her throat; any telltale marks would fade before she went back to her student quarters...

Knock knock knock.

"Bugger!" Severus snarled. Hermione's head dropped onto his shoulder for a moment in frustration. She untangled her legs from his waist as the sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door floated through the enchanted mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He slipped out of her, helping her to stand. "I'm going to take twenty points off your House, because whoever-it-is has horrific timing!"

"It's probably Ginny. And you're not taking House-points off," Hermione countered calmly, restoring the knotted state of her dressing gown. "Because her unfortunate sense of timing is going to put both of us into a suitably cranky mood. You'll get to be surly and snarly, and not have to act nearly so hard as you've had to try, of late. You should be grateful for this interruption."

He eyed her skeptically, then grunted. "Alright, you may have a point. Ten points from Gryffindor, for the untimely interruption."

"...Oh!" she gasped, mock-outraged. "Bastard!"

He slapped her lightly on the backside, turning her towards the mirror. "Go back to your quarters, wife, before your friend bashes down your door."

It wasn't until she had already stepped through the enchanted frame that he realized which bathrobe she was wearing. Not hers. His. Green velvet, with a silver snake-S stitched over the breast. "Shite! Mione!"

It was too late. He hurried to the mirror, activating its one-way scrying ability. He watched her open the door, letting the redheaded younger girl inside. Their voices drifted through the mirror as he listened tensely.

"What took you so long?" Ginny asked Hermione as the older witch closed her door again.

"I was in the bathroom. Just got out of the shower," Hermione added, gesturing at her damp hair.

Ginny's gaze swept over her hair...and paused at her shoulders. "Hermione...that's not your bathrobe. That's...that's a Slytherin's robe! Where did you get...oh, sweet Merlin! You've got a ruddy hickey on your neck!"

Her hand clamped over her neck as her face attempted to flood with an embarrassed blush and drain in bloodless shock. Skin patchy, Hermione hurried over to the mirror, peering at her reflection as Severus stared out at her, unseen from her side of the twinned mirrors. Peeling her hand away, she stared at the fading but still reddish spot low on the side of her neck. "Oh. "

"Don't 'oh' me! Just please tell me you're not snogging Malfoy!" Ginny begged her.

That restored Hermione's equilibrium with a snort. "...As if! The Platinum Prat's about as attractive to me as Fang on a bad drool day. No...um, well, you've found me out. I'm seeing someone. Behind Ron and Harry's backs, because they'd hit the roof, so you'd better on your honor not breathe a single word of this to them, or they'd fly off the handle and try to beat the poor fellow to a pulp."

"You've got that right...you're dating a Slytherin! I thought you had more pride and class than that, Hermione!" Ginny protested, making Severus bristle a little. Not that he could fault her attitude, given the rivalry between the two Houses.

"I am not dating a Slytherin," Hermione lied without flinching. Not that it was much of a lie; she was married to one, which wasn't the same thing as dating, at all. She turned away from the mirror, and smirked at Ginny. "I felt a bit rebellious last night, so I nicked the robe. It's...er, it's Professor Snape's, actually."

Ginny's mouth fell open, her hazel eyes widening almost to the point of bulging. "You...stole...and are wearing...?"

Hermione grinned. "Yep! Stole it right out of the laundry! I'm giving it all the girl-cooties I can, before returning it to the clean-laundry baskets. The next time he snarks at me in class, I'm just going to sit there with this beatific smile on my face, as I imagine him wearing the bathrobe I've contaminated with my girlishness...and I wish I'd paid more attention to Lavender's beauty-journals, because I wish I knew a few delayed-action charms to put on this thing. He was so mean and horrid to me last week, I'd love to see him enchanted into hair-curlers and mascara. Or maybe an involuntary leg-waxing."

Torn between gaping in shock, shuddering in horror, and laughing in mirth, Ginny choked behind a hastily raised hand. "Thank Merlin I'm not on your 'bad' list! Since when did you start rebelling, anyway?"

"Round about the Christmas hols, actually."

"Uh-huh." Ginny sank down in the chair at Hermione's desk. "And just how far have you rebelled? Aside from nicking Professor Snape's own dressing gown from the school's laundry room?"

"I lost my virginity before the end of the year. Quite thoroughly, I might add," Hermione confessed airily. Silently watching, Severus wanted to caution her to not overdo it, but he couldn't do a thing to warn her without alerting Ginny to his presence. The Head Girl shrugged and sat on the edge of her bed. "I'm just more discreet about it than everyone else. And more discriminating."

"Discriminating?" Ginny countered. "With whom?"

"None of your business. You might as well set up your books and notes on my desk while I get dressed," Hermione directed her younger friend. "Because the subject is closed...and if you ever open it with either of the boys...or anyone else, for that matter...I'll never help you study for another test, ever again."

"Hmm. On the one hand, I'm dying of curiosity to know...but on the other hand...I really don't want to know that badly. So," Ginny changed the subject briskly, "What do you remember of the Conflagration Charm? 'Cause I'm having trouble with that one..."

Hermione allowed herself to relax only on the inside. Externally, she affected a thoughtful pose, casting her mind over the Charm in question. On the other side of the mirror, Severus dropped his head for a moment, sighing in relief at her quick-witted save. They'd been so careful over the last three months; this was the first time they'd nearly been caught. Not allowing himself any more time to relax, Severus re-enchanted himself and climbed back up the wall to resume his exercises. The aftereffects of unrequited lust and nearly being found-out would make him suitably surly, this morning, but his exercises could not wait. They were now into the danger-zone of spring. Sometime soon, the Dark Lord would attack, attempt to cast the Cuorum Curse, and two prophecies would be fulfilled, one way or another.

They needed to be ready.

...

She was wearing the earrings he'd given her for Christmas. Crescent man-in-the-moon earrings, but with one difference; each crescent-face was being straddled by the naked figure of a woman, rendered in tiny, exquisitely erotic detail, for the womanly figure straddled the moon-man's mouth. Riding it in permanently frozen, metallic ecstasy. Minx.

"Miss Granger."

She jumped a little, not expecting him to be right behind her, peering over her shoulder at her work. "Er...yes, Professor?"

"Your latest extra-credit project was sloppy. You will come back down here and write a better draft during the lunch hour. Ten points from Gryffindor for atrocious grammar, too."

"...Yes, sir." She bent her head over her cauldron, slicing and grating, while Severus circulated among the handful of other students in his Advanced class. Only when he returned to his desk to check over his notes while the various potions simmered did she make her move. Snapping her fingers softly, she summoned her stylus, wrote out his name, and tapped the two-way image. *What's up? You praised the last article I submitted for you approval. What's wrong with it? *

*Nothing,* he wrote back, using his own stylus. *I just saw your choice in earrings, and felt the urge to show you how much I love you. But if anyone else notices them, someone might tattle on you as to their inappropriateness. That's why I took off the ten points. *

*You're the one who gave them to me...and you're the one who keeps inspiring me with your expertise in that arena. Thank god you took down the portraits in here,* she wrote back, adding a sketch of a smiley-face with its tongue sticking out wryly. *Because as soon as lunch begins, I'm going to jump all over you. *

His reply was a sketch she wished she could save, yet was grateful no one else could see, for all it was barely above stick-figure quality. It wasn't pornographic; it was simply two stick figures holding each other. *...I need something to cheer me up, my love. Hannah Beltingway is in my after-lunch class, Double Potions no less, and I swear she's trying to give Longbottom a run for the budget on Most Cauldrons Melted In A Month. We don't have to make love; I mainly want to hold you. A half-hour's peace, stolen from the rest of the world by simply burying myself in your arms...that would be heaven. Everything is so stressful these days. I keep fearing the next time I'm Summoned will be IT. *

She knew what he meant by the capitalization. *Same here. To hold or to snog, I'll be here...whups, got to add the sliced liver! *

...

This was it. Palms sweating, Hermione faced the Death Eaters, cloaked and masked in black and silver, bold enough to be in the streets of Hogsmeade itself. Granted, it wasn't in the bright light of day, but late evening was bad enough. Order members and Aurors, grim-faced and determined, versus masked ranks of Death Eaters...and the one maskless bastard in their midst. It would've been less intimidating if he'd been masked; that serpentine-influenced face was the ugliest thing Hermione had ever seen. She wished inanely she could wipe the sweat from her hand, but didn't dare let her wand waver. She wished Albus Dumbledore could be with them, to offset Lord Voldemort's powers, but he'd been lured out of the area by what appeared now to be merely a diversionary tactic, a spurious assault on the Minister of Magic's mansion.

One of the Death Eaters moved. Or rather, removed, prying the metallic mask from his face. A longish nose, shy of being a cassowary's beak, and strands of black hair a bit too soft, if oily, to be century-plant fibers came into view. Voldemort, drawing breath to speak, whipped his head to the side.

"...What are you doing, Snape?" he hissed instead. "You're here to attack, not to reveal yourself!"

Cradling the mask in his dragonhide-gloved hands, Severus met Hermione's gaze. They both knew this was IT. The N.E.W.T.s were only two days away; the probability that both prophecies would come true tonight was too high to ignore. "You're right. I am here to attack. Disspeculumbustio! "

Every single mirror-polished mask in sight flared white-hot, literally. Screams erupted as the Death Eaters wearing them scrabbled frantically to pry the burning metal from their searing flesh, as the mirror-mask in Severus' hands smouldered brightly against his heat-resistant gloves. Bodies dropped around him, decimating the Death Eaters' ranks with a single spell.

"Snape! How dare you turn traitor on me now!"

"I've always been a traitor," Severus sneered as he moved just enough to visibly align himself with the other side. "I fight for Light and Love, not for your Darkness and Hate!"

"...Love? Love?! You betray me for LOVE?!? " Ignoring the screams of his followers, Voldemort's face scrunched with betrayal and rage, until he snapped out his wand. "Mortuavvizzi cuorum! "

The spell, a wailing, wraith-like bolt of blackness not unlike a misty version of a Dementor's tattered robes, struck Severus in the chest, making him stagger back. It hooked and grabbed something brilliant and golden, dragging it out of his chest with a roaring sound, sucking it up like a vacuum-cleaner...but something else streamed in from the side. A matching golden fire, roaring out from Hermione's own chest. She stumbled to the ex-Death Eater's side, wrapping her arms around her husband of six months and increasing the golden fire tenfold as he clutched at her in return...but her gaze was on her best friend. She shouted through the cacophony of screaming Death Eaters and battling magics.

"...Get him, Harry! Break the bastard, and break his spell!"

Harry blinked, shook off his daze, and switched his attention to Voldemort, who was scowling and trying to increase the power of his emotion-eating spell. Harry scowled, too, letting his own anger show, and flung out his arm, shouting something. The words of his spell were lost in the noise, as was the colour of the light that flashed from his wand. It did not even touch Voldemort, however; instead, it struck the point where golden flame met blackened mist...and the mist wrenched itself free, doubling back as the fire abruptly died, no longer being drawn out of either of their chests. As quick as a necromantic cobra, the mist-thing struck its caster instead.

For a moment, a brief flash of golden light puffed out of his chest, then other hues streamed into that ravenous maw, flashes of pink and pale blue, mint green and peach. Voldemort screamed, a high-pitched agony, and dropped to the ground as the colours darkened out of the bright and pastel ranges, roaring and squealing and shrieking into darker reds and deeper greens, livid oranges and vivid blues as the black thing spread over his body, shrouding it from the feet upwards. More and more of the black mist started to envelope the Dark Lord's body. As it did so, it creepily silenced the screaming and the roaring, allowing the others to hear the whimpering of his badly-burned followers.

"We...we have to stop this," someone muttered from among the Aurors as the hues turned to indigo, eggplant, burnt umber and charcoal. The darker colours were taking far longer to come out, testament to the emotional mess that was the Dark Lord's soul. "He has to stand trial..."

Panting heavily, Severus flung out his hands, stopping the others before they could make up their minds on the matter. "...Do not interfere! This curse is irreversible, for him. If you try to stop the spell now, you will create a soulless monster far more dangerous than the Dark Lord ever was, a killing machine with no conscience and no remorse. Unlike myself, Riddle has no one to apply the countercharm to this particular foul curse.

"There is no other way to stop the process...other than death, one way or another. Trust me, I've seen the twisted, foul results when it was interrupted without a countercharm like the one that has saved me. This is the only way to save us all from his madness."

Even as he spoke, the mist shrieked and popped, vanishing. Leaving behind a twisted corpse frozen mid-writhe, agony etched in every line of what used to be Tom Riddle's face. It was over. Lord Voldemort was dead, and his followers were in too much pain to resist as the Aurors and Order members broke ranks, swarming forward to bind their helpless, whimpering, blistered captives.

"...This was that curse, wasn't it?" Harry demanded, glancing at Hermione, who still stood at the Potions Master's side, arms still wrapped around his waist, supporting him. "The one prophecied in my godfather's diary that was supposed to kill you...but it was supposed to strike you, not him! "

Hermione eased her grip, abruptly aware of how tightly she was holding her husband on his left, purple-scarred side. She gave Harry an impatient look. "Regardless of who it struck, Harry, you turned it back against him. Voldemort killed himself, because of it; if he hadn't cast it on someone, we'd all still be fighting him, and some of us would be dead. The important thing is that Voldemort is dead, irrevocably, irreversibly dead, and most of his followers are captured. The war is over!"

"The war is over..." Severus echoed. Strangely enough, despite the fact that this moment had been his greatest goal for a very long time, only now was it sinking in that they'd actually won. More than that, that he was still alive, as was the witch at his side. Turning, he clutched her to him. "The war is over...the war is over! " The words escaped him in a shout that quickly became a laugh as he lifted her up and twirled both of them around, grinning madly. Stopping, he set her down, cupped her face, and grinned at his beaming, laughing, crying wife, heedless of his own tears of relief. "The war is over..."

Pulling her face to his, Severus met her parted lips in a heated kiss, uncaring of where they were or who was watching. All he could think was that the war was over, and so was his spying days. His surly days. His bastardish days. He was finally free to be the real Severus Snape...which his beautiful, beloved young wife had helped him to rediscover.

"Oy! What're you doing?" Ron demanded, grabbing his arm and prying it from her face. "You can't kiss her!"

Annoyed that he'd lost his head and given this last deception away, Severus wrapped his other arm around Hermione, keeping her firmly at his side. As much of a headache as it would be to reveal the truth, there really was no more point to keeping it hidden. "On the contrary, you overgrown, freckled troglodyte, I can kiss her all I bloody want!"

"She's your student!" Ron protested.

"I'm also his wife," Hermione retorted, "And I'll kiss him back, if I like! You celebrate in your own way, Ron, and we'll celebrate in ours."

The youngest male Weasley wasn't the only on around them who gaped and staggered back a step. "You're...you're..."

"...You're married? " Harry managed to ask through his shock.

"Since before Christmastide. And before you ask, the Headmaster has been grading her work...and he personally approved of the marriage," Severus added, grateful for Hermione's support as stayed snugged firmly against his side. "It was all a part of the counter-spell to the Cuorum Curse. But even though it hit me instead of her as prophesied, the curse was still thwarted, thanks to the nature of the countercharm." He paused, then added snarkily, "Sorry to disappoint you for still living, Potter, but...ow!"

Hermione released the scarred flesh she'd pinched through his robes. "Be nice, Severus. The boys have just had a bad shock. There will be plenty of time for explanations later."

"First thing I'm doing is taking that ruddy scar-healing potion," Severus muttered under his breath. A thought crossed his mind. "And the second thing I'll have to do is see Albus about a certain pendant, and a change of wardrobe and voice."

"For what?" Hermione asked him as the others left them alone for a moment, needing to deal with the aftermath of the brief but decisive conflict.

"For going back, and giving Black the prophecy he wrote down, the one that started all of this." An unhappy frown pinched his brow. "Unfortunately, this means I'll have to be parted from you for nearly two years, waiting to catch up with the correct course of time."

"Excuse me? We're both going back," Hermione countered firmly, poking him in the side, "as soon as my N.E.W.T.s are through and I've left the school. You and I going to have a two-year honeymoon somewhere warm and tropical, far from England. Once you've delivered the warning, that is."

"I don't have enough in my vaults at Gringotts to pay for a two-year sabbatical, Mione," he pointed out.

"So we'll become apothecarists!" she retorted. "Besides, I heard it was lovely down in Pago Pago these last two years, with no storms to worry about, and a nice crop of plantains last year."

"I am not going anywhere that I have to wear a lavilavi over my robes," Severus protested. "I'd rather go to the Bahamas."

"Who said you'd be wearing robes?" she teased him. "It's the tropics, after all."

"...Urgh! Would the two of you just shut up?!" Ron exclaimed. "Bad enough I have to smell all this burnt flesh, but to listen to the two of you carrying on like a pair of...of lovebirds...!"

"What, jealous, Weasl...ow!! Dammit, stop doing that, woman!" he ordered as she again pinched his side. "I can still take House-points from you, at least for a few more days!"

"Make me!" she retorted fearlessly.

Ron and Harry weren't the only pale, unsettled faced turning away as he silenced her with a kiss. Neither of the Granger-Snapes cared. The war was over. Voldemort was dead, and the side of Light had triumphed. The one weapon the Dark Lord did not have in his arsenal, the one defense that could have saved him, the one thing he had disdained and discarded for all of his life...love...had instead defeated all of his schemes.

It was a very good day to be alive, Severus decided as he continued to kiss his wife.