Epilogue

Disclaimer: I reap no financial benefits from the use of JK Rowling's characters.

There are not enough biscuits in the world to thank Dreamy_Dragon and Persevero for their help betaing this chapter.

Chapter 12 - Epilogue

Severus wiped his brow as he Levitated the last of his books into what must have been the hundredth box. He didn't know how Muggles coped with moving house. Even with magic, it was a right pain in the arse. This day ended one of the most gruelling months of his life. Oh, he might have thought his year as Headmaster was the height of stress, but it paled in comparison to a month filled with N.E.W.T.s, O.W.L.s, trying to pass along the bulk of thirty-odd years of teaching to his replacement, completing on a house just outside Leeds, and snagging the occasional hour with his future bride so that he didn't lose his mind entirely.

Waving his wand again wearily, he shrank what had better be the last cursed box and Levitated it into the beaded bag Hermione had loaned him. Surely, I've packed everything now, he thought, wondering if he should even bother walking through his soon-to-be-former quarters. If he'd missed packing something, he didn't bloody need it. Everything, save his books, was replaceable—indeed, probably needed replacing anyway. He sighed. Better have a look-see, just in case. With his luck, it would be Hermione's undergarments that were left behind. Severus threw open the door and glared at the empty bedroom as if daring one of his possessions to have the temerity to remain unboxed. 

The drawers were open and empty. The wardrobe was entirely bare, save for a collection of mangled wire hangers. The bed linens were folded and neatly stacked. He stared at the bed a moment, trailing his hand along the foot board. For a fleeting day several months ago, he'd considered installing it in his new home, but when he'd asked the house-elves, they'd said it belonged to Hogwarts. In fact, all the furniture would be staying at the school. Leaving the job, the furniture, and the dungeons behind was both liberating and fairly terrifying—like being stripped of his robes and shoved out of the dormitory in his underwear.

His thumb worried the carving in the centre of the foot board. Odd that he felt such an affinity towards a bed that brought back such unpleasant memories. Staring at the ceiling for countless nights after Lily died. Feeling the increasing slow burn of the Mark as Voldemort returned to power. Suffering through whatever punishment Voldemort had decided to mete out. Cursing the devil's bargain he'd made with Albus. And many long, lonely nights, especially when he'd been Headmaster.

Still, there were a smattering of good memories over the years. His recent adventures with Hermione. Or misadventures on occasion. Working through the entire Kama Sutra—Muggle and Wizard—with Septima. And way back in his fifth year of teaching, when he'd sneaked his first girlfriend into the castle and lost his virginity in that bed. She was a Slytherin from two years behind him, working at Scrivenshaft's to pay for expenses at some Scandinavian university. What was her name? Beatrice? Benita? No, Bennividere. Yes, a name so horrid she'd insisted everyone call her Benny, which never failed to bring to mind his father's drunken chortling at The Benny Hill Show. 

Severus snatched his hand back as he realised he was fondling the duvet. "Enough of this," he muttered out loud. It was foolish to stand around reminiscing about thirty years of sporadic bedroom encounters, especially when he had a lovely partner awaiting his arrival. Another two minutes of stalking through his rooms revealed that nothing had been left unpacked. It was time to leave.

He scooped up the beaded bag, then decided that perhaps he should check his office again, just to be certain. Dammit, he'd thought that by the time end of term rolled around, he'd be doing backflips to escape this dank existence. Leaving was unexpectedly difficult. He stood at the threshold to the room, fiddling with the shoulder strap of the bag. His office, too, was barren. Not surprising, since everything in it was his—well, except for the pair of essays from the Weasley twins that were never returned after their sudden departure, but he'd packed them along with decades of notes, obscure texts and personal research equipment.

Wandering through the office door into the classroom, he was shocked to see his replacement standing over a cauldron, inventory in hand. "Already at work while the cauldrons are still warm from the last salvo of end-of-term explosions, Professor Baneberry?"

Professor Baneberry looked up, his broad smile looking horribly out of place in the Potions classroom. "I just wanted to get the infirmary stores squared away before I leave for my holiday." 

"Ah, a wise move. And here I thought you were mapping out course changes before I'd even left the castle."

Baneberry averted his eyes and stared at the cauldron. "Well, I had been considering some changes to the fifth-year curriculum, introducing some of the theory a bit earlier. Not too much, of course, what with O.W.L.s, but I had thought some experimentation with potions adaptations might better engage the students’ interest."

Baneberry nervously fingered his inventory, looking up warily to gauge Severus's reaction. Seeing that the Potions master did not disapprove, he continued, rattling off a series of minor changes as well as a number of major ones. Severus supposed that perhaps, even for the wizarding world, twenty-five years with the same set of textbooks might signal time for a change. But, as he stood there listening to Baneberry prattle on, Severus realised he really, truly did not care one whit whether first-years were introduced to cauldron safety during their first lesson. It wasn't his bloody problem any more, and the little buggers would still blow up three Quidditch teams’ worth of cauldrons over the course of the year. 

Severus began to regret having walked into the classroom. It seemed as if Baneberry would never cease rambling with youthful enthusiasm about how eager he was to guide young minds. Finally, Severus seized a moment's pause to reassure Baneberry that it was a comfort to leave his legacy in such capable hands and wished the man good luck. He hurried through the corridors, saluting the Bloody Baron, wishing a portrait or two well, and narrowly dodging what looked to be a troll bogey thrown by Peeves. He was both surprised and agitated to find Minerva, Septima, Pomona, Poppy, and Argus waiting in the Entrance Hall to bid him farewell. And dammit, Albus had hijacked the portrait of Bertrand the Barmy for the occasion as well.

The sun glinted through the open castle doors. His freedom was within sight, and he grew more fidgety as the well-wishing continued. One would think that he'd not spoken to his colleagues at all in the past few months. Inquiries as to his plans. A chorus of well-wishes, both to him and Hermione. Had they decided on a honeymoon location? Would the Hogwarts staff be invited to the hen night? Where was it, again, that their new house was located? Severus was fingering his wand, considering Unforgivables, when Minerva finally interrupted and shooed him out the door.

He trudged down the hill towards the Apparition Point one last time, stopping to look back at the castle when he'd completed the descent. A chapter—no, a three-part, miserable and seemingly never-ending trilogy—of his life had ended, and he was all too happy to see the back page of it. He'd wrestled with many of his Hogwarts demons this past year and laid most to rest, including more or less settling his lingering struggle with Albus Dumbledore. Full resolution of conflict had been achieved, and it was time to begin a new volume, hopefully one that didn't involve repeated abuse of his person.

After patting the beaded bag to ensure he'd not left it somewhere along the way, Severus turned on his heel and Disapparated.

He opened the door and tentatively peered inside. He'd not seen the place since they'd completed on the house and was a bit afraid of the state that he might find it in. The wallpaper had been utterly hideous, and his stomach churned at the thought of both seeing it and the forthcoming chore of removing the cursed stuff. With his luck, the owners had used Permanent Sticking Charms on the wretched walls.

"Hello," he called as he shut the door and deposited the bag onto a short table that graced the entry way. Odd. He'd rather expected an armful of curly-haired witch the second the hinges had creaked. He stepped further into the house and surveyed the sitting room. Crookshanks glanced up lazily from a tasteful leather couch, no doubt enhanced with anti-scratching charms. The Kneazle regarded him for a moment, then returned to his slumber. Severus spied the most recent journals fanned out on the coffee table, along with the stunning full-colour copy of Grouper's Guide to Magical and Muggle Flora Native to the British Isles that Hermione had given him for Yule. A number of photographs adorned the mantel, and a handful of decidedly academic trinkets and mementoes were distributed about the room. Not so many as to look cluttered (and attract additional companions at birthdays and Yule), but enough to look sufficiently lived in. It seemed Hermione had made a good bit of progress unpacking in just a week. Not only that, but she'd replaced the wretched floral wallpaper with a coat of rich, bronze paint. 

"In here!" she called from the room they'd decided would be their study.

Severus grumbled to himself as he walked down the hallway. Whatever was keeping her from greeting him had better be worth the trouble. He rounded the doorway and froze. She was wearing a faded, tightly fitted T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and shorts that were positively indecent. Oh, yes, this was worth the trouble.

"Hi, Severus! Just give me a moment while I finish this shelf," she said in a chipper tone that seemed to dance circles around his ankles like that Kneazle of hers.

His tongue suddenly rendered as useless as his appendix, he nodded as she went about shelving the copies of Charms Monthly that she'd clutched to her bosom. She emptied her hands, and he swore he could see London, France and half of Belgium when she bent over to retrieve another stack of periodicals.

He swallowed the sizable lump in this throat and mentally chastised himself. The sight of her was so befuddling, his brain resorted to American playground chants. Any further loss of brain cells, and he'd be quoting Lemsip advertisements. He cleared his throat and said, "I see you've decided not to stick to that absurd notion that we forgo christening the house until after the wedding."

She'd hoisted another handful of magazines above her head, revealing a swath of pale pink belly, when she turned to look at him confusedly. "No, I haven't changed my mind. Why ever would you think that?"

His eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to determine if she was just being coy or if she was honestly oblivious as to the effect of her costume. "Why would I think that? Perhaps because I've seen you more fully clothed in bed."

"Oh, these things?" Hermione asked as she looked down, blushing. "I just wanted something that I wouldn't mind getting dirty."

At the word dirty, Severus fought to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. "An interesting choice of words." He stalked towards her, lust gleaming in his eyes.

Her eyes widened as he approached. "Severus! I need to shelve the periodicals!"

"Sod the periodicals." Severus backed her against the bookcases and set about trying to convince her that her proposed abstinence was quite possibly the most ridiculous idea she'd had since suggesting they paint the kitchen lemon—lemon!—yellow. He was midway through leaving a purple, cauldron-shaped mark on the side of her neck when Hermione began fumbling with his trousers. "Oh, thank Merlin," he groaned, groping for his wand.

A swish and a flick and Hermione's indecent shorts and presumably scanty knickers dropped to the floor along with his trousers. Another flick banished the bra that had lurked underneath that obscenely tight T-shirt. Hermione started to pull the shirt over her head, but Severus stilled her hands. "Leave it, please," he asked, punctuating his request by tugging her nipple in between his thumb and forefinger.

"O-okay," Hermione moaned before clutching Severus's head and bringing his lips to meet hers. "Missed you." Her arms twined behind Severus's neck, and she shifted her weight and wrapped her legs around him.

Gravity threatened to spoil the entire escapade. "Oh, bugger! My back! Blasted end of year cauldron inventory!" He glanced at the convenient bookshelves to the left of them. After he had transfigured one of the shelves, Severus waddled, trousers around his ankles and witch around his waist, to the newly-made ledge where he deposited Hermione.

Severus shuffled over to the desk, leaning on it for support as he clutched his back. He murmured a Healing Charm as he toed off his shoes and kicked the trousers and pants from his ankles. His fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons as he drank in the sight of Hermione.

Her hair was in complete disarray from her cleaning and unpacking. Were it not for the smudges of dust he could see on her forehead and shirt, he'd have thought she'd been entertaining someone in the bed rather than digging through boxes. He glanced at her shirt. That T-shirt would be featured in every one of his wanking fantasies for the next thirty years. The clingy blue fabric hugged her form so tightly that she'd hardly needed a bra. His eyes travelled further down her form. Her legs were still spread from having been wrapped around him. He realised his mouth was hanging open and closed it abruptly. 

He'd been standing there ogling Hermione for several moments. Perhaps it was a bit rude of him to participate in such solitary, self-indulgent pleasure. An apology on his lips, his eyes flickered up to Hermione's face only to find her hungry gaze riveted on his cock. He chuckled as he walked, unencumbered, to the bookshelves. Hermione grinned at him as he approached. "If I'd known this would be the sight awaiting me, I'd have taken the house-elves up on their offer to pack and move my belongings," he murmured before lowering his head to suck her nipple, the shirt soft against his mouth.

Hermione moaned in response, arching against him. His fingers dipped in between her thighs, and she moaned again. Severus chuckled as he teased her. Her perch on the extended shelf meant she had to cope with his light touches. If she moved forward, she'd fall to the floor. She growled at him, grabbing his hand and forcing his fingers where she most wanted his attention.

It was Severus's turn to moan as he discovered how very ready Hermione was. He abandoned his attentions to her nipples, briefly marvelling at the way the damp fabric clung to her. His lips sought hers as his fingers entered her, his thumb dancing circles around her clitoris.

"Severus! Please!" she begged.

He'd anticipated this moment daily for weeks. He'd wanked countless times to the memory of the feel of her as she first surrounded him, pulling him closer and deeper. The reality was even better than his fantasies. Once fully nestled between her thighs, he paused, fearing that things would be over all too soon if he moved so much as a centimetre. He rested his forehead against a shelf, shutting his eyes and panting. 

After catching his breath, he looked at Hermione. Her eyes were dazed, and she sported a wicked half-smile. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and his carefully cultivated control snapped. He clutched the shelves on either side of her and withdrew. And then thrust into her. They groaned in unison, and their lips collided, as uncoordinated as their earlier attempts at undressing. He withdrew again, far more quickly than he'd intended, unable to restrict his pace. This encounter would not be lasting long. He tucked one hand between them, rubbing Hermione as best he could, given their awkward positioning. Fortunately, she was as tightly wound as he, and he soon felt her clenching around him. 

Their shouts echoed in the nearly empty library as they came. Severus kept his remaining grip on the shelves, fearful that his legs might buckle if he were to let go. Panting, he rested his head on her shoulder, delivering kisses to her neck in between gasps for air.

"Oh, Severus, I've missed you," she mumbled against his neck.

"Perhaps as much as I've missed you," he said, his lips quirking against her skin. He pushed off from the shelves, stepping back to relish the sight of his satisfied lover. A stabbing pain ripped through the afterglow. He groaned as he rubbed the heel of his palm against his back. 

"As very enjoyable as that was, next time we christen a room in this house, remind me to conjure a bed," he grumbled. "I refuse to cuddle with you on hardwood floors. Come on."

The faintest of tickling sensations awoke Severus from his nap. He raised his hand to brush Hermione's hair away, momentarily confused when he found her absent from the bed. The sound of the shower running answered that question. But what on earth had awakened him? True, he had been a rather light sleeper during the war, but the past year, he'd been sleeping like the dead. Well, non-Inferius dead anyway.

He inhaled and lodged a tuft of Kneazle fur into the cavern of his left nostril. "Oh, bugger!" he shouted as he looked about in a panic, terrified to breathe again through his nose lest he suck the damned thing into his lung. "Accio handkerchief!" He blew his nose as if his very existence depended upon the outcome, finally stopping at the tenth or eleventh go. 

His eyes darted to the bathroom where the water had just shut off. He heard Hermione step out of the shower. He discreetly checked the handkerchief. Excellent. No Kneazle fur in his bronchi. Much as he liked the beast, the insidious shedding was going to pose a problem when it came to brewing. Perhaps wards in the doorway? Better yet, maybe he could talk Hermione into developing a charm to attract loose fur straight to the bin.

Nestling back under the covers, Severus watched as a dust mote meandered in the sunlight. What a unique sensation... to be entirely free from that pile of rocks in Scotland. He rolled over onto his stomach, burrowing further into the bed's warmth. Merlin, it was almost too comfortable, which could prove quite problematic. A week ago, the promise of his new personal laboratory had been a beacon of sanity amidst the end of term. But that had been before he'd tried the bed. It could well be months before he even unpacked the shiny new equipment. Perhaps he could pursue one of the bevy of research projects which required extensive reading rather than brewing. Yes, a conjured lap desk. Perfectly brewed tea in one of the Hermione's, no, their mugs with the built-in Heating Charms. His potions journals just an Accio away in the library. Hermione wandering through the room in just her knickers. Oh, this would be a happy life indeed. He smiled smugly at the long overdue change in fate.

After dumping her laundry in the basket, Hermione smirked at Severus. "Well, you look rather pleased with yourself. Who knew you could recover from the end of term so quickly?" She lifted the covers and clambered back into bed. "Budge over."

"Yes, well, knowing that I won't be returning has lightened my spirits immensely, especially when combined with the restorative powers of a good shag. Might take several more to really put me to rights, though." He winced as he made room for Hermione. "That and a cauldron or two of muscle relaxant."

"Oh, roll over and I'll massage your back." She delivered the kind offer with an eye roll. "Poor thing."

"We'll just see how you hold up after such activity in twenty years' time. Of course, at that point, I'll have to hire out a gigolo to perform the service." The bite of his words succumbed to happy sighs as Hermione's hands slid across his back, seeking the tender spots at the root of his distress. 

Pressing her thumbs hard against his lower back, she quipped, "Yes, because a wizard in his late sixites is ancient. Ah, well. Something to look forward to in my middle age."

Severus snorted into his pillow. He groaned as Hermione found a particularly sensitive spot. "Merlin, that's enough. Any more and I'll melt into the mattress.”

Hermione flopped onto the bed next to him, running her fingers through his hair and tucking stray locks behind his ear.

“Please tell me we have nothing scheduled for at least the next three weeks," he begged.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Actually, I don't think we have anything but unpacking on our schedule until the wedding. I've cleared my work calendar." 

Severus smiled as he slid his arms around Hermione and clutched her close, nuzzling that spot on her neck. "Thank Merlin. I thought we'd be running around like trolls with our heads cut off with a thousand last-minute tasks." 

Hermione broke from his embrace, staring at Severus as if he'd become an Inferius. "Severus, we should be running around like trolls with our heads cut off. I don't think I slept more than five hours a night in the months leading up to my wedding with Ron."

Determined to cling to his vision of carefree summer days spent shagging in the new bed—and the new living room and the new kitchen—Severus mumbled into the pillow, "Well, I'm sure that was a much larger affair. I'm sure there was much more to handle."

Hermione snorted. "Weddings do not work like that. We should be calling florists, haggling with the reception hall over table placement, totting up final numbers for the caterers, and a million other things."

Severus sensed that his vision of a placid summer was about to explode, like a class full of first-years' cauldrons.

"Accio wedding binder." 

Severus ducked as a silver binder sailed from the living room into Hermione's waiting palm. She rifled through the pages until she found what looked to be a checklist. She removed it from the binder, and Severus's gut roiled as the paper swelled to form a twenty-page notepad. Pulling a biro from the binder's front pocket, she ran the tip down a column of tasks. 

She muttered under her breath, "Yes, well, that's everything that was supposed to be done by May. Ah, here's June. Severus, did you get fitted for new dress robes?"

"Well, more or less."

Hermione levelled an icy stare in his direction. "What do you mean 'more or less'?"

"Well, I had an appointment at Madam Malkin’s, but there was an accident in the classroom," Severus explained, continuing to ignore Hermione's Arctic stare. "I met Minerva in the hospital wing, and, well, Poppy used a charm to take my measurements, and Minerva went shopping for my robes. They should arrive next Wednesday."

Hermione looked sceptical. "You sent Minerva shopping for your dress robes?"

"Well, she offered, and she does have excellent taste. Whatever she selected will probably look infinitely better than anything I might have selected."

Hermione's pursed lips told him she agreed, despite the principle of the matter. She proceeded to rattle off a dozen additional line items from her list. With increasing terror, Severus was forced to admit that Minerva had volunteered for virtually every task on his list. 

"Severus, did you actually do any of the things I asked you to do?" She jabbed the blunt end of the biro into his thigh for emphasis.

Severus thought very hard about how best to answer this question. He was quite sure he'd done something or other, but nothing was springing to mind. And yet admitting such would be the height of stupidity. Their new couch was comfortable, but not comfortable enough for a fortnight's stay. He replied, picking at the hem on the sheet and clearing any shreds of sarcasm from his voice, "Hermione, I got the list just after the Easter hols, and the end of term is always challenging. I honestly wouldn't have delegated everything to Minerva except that she always offered, and I thought it might be better to get everything done than to do something half-arsed or forget it completely." There. That didn't sound so horrible. Perhaps he would get the hang of this husband thing after all. He raised his eyes from the sheet to look at his future wife.

She was not impressed with his response. Bugger. Well, perhaps he could get himself out of the situation still. "Are there any tasks left I can help you with?"

Her jaw clenched, Hermione flipped to the next page of the list. Her face paled. 

"Hermione, what is it?"

A flurry of expressions warred for dominance: embarrassment, anger, frustration, amusement, guilt. Eventually, a fit of giggles overcame her. Severus, mind-boggled, stared at her with the confusion of the recently Obliviated. And her laughter continued. Severus wondered if, perhaps, the wedding binder was cursed. Scratch that, he knew the damned thing, by its very nature, was cursed. Her increasingly maniacal laughter set his hair on end. "Hermione, what is going on?"

"Hello, pot. I'm kettle," she choked out amidst her laughter.

"What? Hermione, you're frightening me. This wedding business has sent you around the bend."

She looked up at him, wiping tears from her eyes. Calming herself somewhat successfully for a moment, she managed to choke out between gales of renewed laughter, "I delegated... nearly everything from my list... to Molly! And here... I was... about to take you to task." Her face froze in horror and the laughter ceased. "Oh, bugger, Severus. Minerva and Molly are planning our wedding."

The colour drained from Severus's face. "You mean those two harridans are at the helm of our small, private ceremony?" The chill in Severus's voice could have frozen lava.

"Accio Owl Post." Hermione winced as a stack of correspondence wobbled into the room. 

"Been neglecting a few things, have you?" Severus suppressed a grin. He was so off the hook for dumping tasks onto Minerva.

The stack of teetering parchment settled onto the bed in front of Hermione. She sprang up and flew to the dresser, fumbling through the drawers.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" 

"I need to finish unpacking the library. Can't really do that naked since we haven't got curtains up yet," she mumbled as she wrestled her way into a T-shirt.

Severus's jaw hit the duvet. "You mean we shagged in a room with no curtains? Wait, Hermione, you were going to look through this stack of post!"

Her head tilted, and she gaped at him. "Oh, I was, wasn't I?"

Severus chuckled as he shook his head. "You really are getting rather scatterbrained." He reached for the post. And promptly jumped up, grabbing his trousers. He was halfway across the room when Hermione stopped him. 

"And where are you going, Severus?"

"The lawn needs mowing," he argued, hopping towards the door with one leg in his trousers.

"The lawn's fine. Do you have your wand, Severus?"

The witch had gone batty. Completely batty. "Of course I do! Can't it wait until I've at least done the front?"

Hermione shook her head. "Do me a favour and cast a Detection Spell on the post, please."

Severus sighed. It seemed there would be no mowing until his blasted witch's curiosity was satisfied. A flourish of his wand made five pieces of post turn burnt orange. The meaning of the fiery glow permeated his grass-obsessed mind. He levitated them to a separate stack. "Finite Incantatem." They ceased glowing but now risked combustion courtesy of Hermione's mutinous glare.

"I think I might understand why I was so motivated to redecorate," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth as she snatched the offending pieces of post. "There had better be a damned good reason why Molly cast Repelling spells on copies of the florist’s order, date confirmation from the caterer, quotes from three different bands to play at our reception, a swatch of a truly hideous shade of baby blue fabric that will be Ginny's dress, and the guest list."

Severus should have been infuriated, really, that the woman had run rough-shod over their wedding. Instead, it seemed it was his turn for highly inappropriate laughter. He tried to suppress it, really. He wouldn't have thought Molly Weasley capable of such deception. That she'd gone to such lengths was nearly comical. Nearly.

"Oh, bugger." Hermione glared at Severus's bark of laughter. "Severus, this is serious. The guest list has over six hundred people listed!"

His laughter juddered to a halt. "Six hundred! What, did they invite every idiot that has ever walked through my classroom?"

"And then some, I'd say," Hermione murmured, idly flipping through the list. "Bloody hell, she's invited the book club."

Molly Weasley clearly studied the Dark Lord's One Hundred and Thirteen Creative and Subtle Torture Methods. Really, he'd much prefer a well-aimed Cruciatus Curse. "Next you're going to tell me that Gilderoy Lockhart is officiating at the ceremony."

"Severus! Don't you dare joke about that! It's too bloody frightening!"

Hermione halved the stack of correspondence. "Here." She shoved one of the piles at him. "Skim each of them and write anything of note on this."

An hour and a half and four dozen or so expletives later, Hermione stared at the grim story told by the wedding binder.

"Well? How bad is it? What I saw in my stack was bad enough. I shudder to think what you might have uncovered. Did you know Molly's doing the cake herself? Do you think we'll have the honour of a pink cake with purple icing?" Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. All urges to laugh had long since dissipated. 

Hermione sighed and rubbed the large knot pulsing at the base of her neck. She snatched up the parchment and tried to keep her voice from wobbling as she read, "Percy Weasley to officiate. Reception catered by Prancing Pegasus, quoted cost two thousand Galleons. Flowers by Fleur, quoted cost one hundred Galleons. Centrepieces by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, cost fifty Galleons." With every line item, Hermione's voice rose a half octave. "Celestina Warbeck is scheduled to play at the reception for five hundred Galleons. And she's booked a honeymoon in, oh Merlin, Cancun for fifteen hundred Galleons. Severus! There's over five thousand Galleons in expenses here when you include everything!" Her panicked breathing jiggled the bed. "That's over twenty thousand pounds! That's more than the down payment on our house!"

Severus shifted so that he could sit behind Hermione. His fingers replaced her own on her neck, the tips of his thumbs pressing against the screaming vertebrae. He wanted to rail against every item in the list, but Hermione was already on the verge of tears. Adding his caustic rejoinder would not help matters. He wondered idly when he'd learned to hold his tongue. Clearing his throat, he gently asked, "Why would Molly do this, Hermione? She knew what kind of ceremony we wanted, didn't she?"

"Oh, one never knows exactly with Molly. I suppose she thought she was doing us a favour—that our marriage should be celebrated with the entire damn wizarding world. Although..." Hermione groaned as his fingers nudged against a particularly tender spot. "It wouldn't be a horrible networking idea, especially for you, but I really don't want our wedding to become some circus. Oh, Gods, Severus, if it's that big, the Daily Prophet will show up."

Her pulse beat an accelerando against his fingertips. He abandoned his massage and wrapped his arms around her. "Hermione, we don't have to do this Molly's way."

"But she's put down deposits for everything!"

"We'll pay her back," he said resolutely, stroking her arms to soothe her.

Her voice sounding as if she were a breath away from tears, she argued, "But if we cancel, she'll be furious and embarrassed and... Oh, Severus, she'll be horrified if she's already sent out the invitations."

Severus stretched his arm around to grab the binder. "If she's following your calendar, she won't send invitations until Tuesday."  He felt, rather than heard, her sigh of relief. 

"Hermione, I don't want this," he said, gesturing to the mound of correspondence. "You don't want this. It could well drain our Gringotts vaults. I'll put my foot down and take the brunt of Molly's anger, and we can reclaim the planning."

She twisted around to face him, her eyes glinting with moisture. "Severus, that's rather generous of you, but you clearly underestimate Molly Weasley. There will be no wiggling out of this. The woman had no qualms with a magically binding book club, after all."

He traced a fingertip along her chin as he considered. "Hmm. Good point. If even we did win the argument, I wonder what the price would be. Well, there's only one solution then."

"I know." Hermione sighed. "And to think, I was actually looking forward to our wedding. Not any more..."

"Hermione, going along with Molly's manipulations is not a solution."

"Oh?" She jerked her head out of his grasp in surprise.

"Let's get married."

Hermione squinted at Severus, the suggestion that he'd gone round the bend hovering on the tip of her tongue.

"Today."

Her eyes widened. "Today?"

He nodded. 

"But, Severus, Molly will be livid! The Howlers alone will make us prematurely deaf."

He threaded one of her curls through his fingers. "Hmmm. Lucky for us I've some experience constructing wards against them. Besides, better to ask forgiveness than permission."

"You say that as if it's a socially acceptable method for getting one's way," she said, glaring daggers in his direction to warn against using such a technique on her.

"It's exactly what Molly has done," he tossed back in retort.

"Oh. I suppose you're right." Hermione gazed at her kneecaps as if studying them long enough would yield the answer. "Today?" she asked, turning to look at him again, the idea clearly taking root. "Go and take a shower, Severus. I need some time to consider this."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left the bed, concealing his grin until he was out of sight. Much as he loathed Molly Weasley for her interference, the situation could well turn out in his favour. As he lathered up in the shower, he dared to daydream of a summer filled with reading, napping, and shagging, lots of shagging. He'd come up with ten locations to try out by the time he towelled his hair dry and five different scenarios when he wrapped the towel around his waist. He looked down at the rather attractive way the towel hung on his hips and considered another two scenarios. He prodded the flat line of his stomach. Hmmm, I’ll need to keep an eye on this now that I'm not walking fifteen kilometres a day.

When he returned to the bedroom, Hermione was sitting on the bed, dressed in the T-shirt and shorts she'd grabbed earlier and flipping through the dreaded binder. She cast an appreciative glance at the towel as he walked to the dresser. He grabbed a pair of faded denims and a black T-shirt from the drawer. "So, have you decided anything?"

"I believe I have," she replied, the grin spreading across her face telling her answer. "Though, you do realise that, even if we elope today, Molly will still want to throw a party."

"That is... not ideal, but tolerable. We will be having a discussion with her about budget, however." He bent down to kiss his very-soon-to-be bride. "And I'll be damned if members of that insufferable book club are going to attend our reception."

She yanked him onto the bed next to her, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Today then?" she asked with a smile.

"So it would seem. No sooner am I released from my prison up north than I'm shackled to my new fate."

Hermione's right hand was surprisingly hard as it smacked his chest. "Ha, bloody, ha. So, do we need to find witnesses to go with us? I suppose I can ask Ginny, but Molly will wring her neck when she finds out that Ginny helped us escape."

Severus shifted to grab his wand off the bedside table. "Hermione, I'm not certain we need to arrange witnesses. Accio beaded bag." The bag sailed into the room and landed in front of him with a clunk. "Oh, right, this may take some digging. Perhaps we should do this in the library."

On the twenty-third out of eighty-three boxes, all unwarded and returned to size, Severus found the volume he was looking for. Cradling the spine in his palm, he skimmed the table of contents for only a moment before flipping about a quarter of the way through the text. He pointed to the fourth paragraph. "I believe this spell will bind us with only ourselves and our magic present."

For a moment, Hermione stared at her betrothed. She glanced at the text, skimming the paragraphs immediately preceding and following it before flipping the cover to read its title. "Severus, why do you have a copy of Handfasting and Marriage Rituals Through the Ages?"

He glared at her. "It was handed down on my mother's side, thank you very much. Though I'll admit I may have flipped through it last November."

Shaking her head and grinning, she read through the passage again. "So, this is it? The Ministry will recognise this?"

"That it will. We'll just need to visit the registrar when it's convenient. They'll check our wands and record the marriage. In recent history, this ceremony was used numerous times during the wars, especially when couples did not wish to draw attention to their union." He paused, inspecting her expression. "Are you certain you want it to be just the two of us?"

She considered the question for a moment and then smiled broadly. "Actually, I think I might prefer it over what we'd originally planned. It's rather intimate, don't you think?"

A lump firmly lodged in his throat, Severus nodded. Such a bond would be more intimate, more personal than anything he had ever done. Much more intimate than mere sex. More personal than the Mark that had owned him for nearly twenty years. Oh, bloody hell. Did I just compare marriage vows to taking the Dark Mark? Severus prayed to every deity that his face had remained expressionless. He risked a glance at Hermione and saw her smirking. Dammit.

"You'll be fine, Severus. Thousands of wizards before you have survived their wedding vows. I have no reason to suspect you won't."

He tried not to glare. Really, he did.

"Come on, you'll feel better after some lunch."

As usual, Hermione was correct. After munching half a sandwich and a pile of crisps, Severus felt capable of attending to the details of their nuptials. "We need to determine where and when. Early evening? We could go out for dinner afterwards." 

"The Enchanted Sceptre, perhaps?"

"I'll owl to see what time we can get a reservation. Did you have anywhere in mind for the ceremony itself?"

"I... Oh, gods, this is really happening, isn't it?" Hermione looked as though she might lose the lunch she'd just eaten.

Severus chuckled as Hermione took up the baton of pre-wedding jitters. "Yes, it is. And I believe you'll survive as well. Now, as for locations, the statue of the Battle of Hogwarts war heroes would present a lovely photo opportunity."

As expected, Hermione giggled. 

"Or we could make it very easy for the press, and use the lobby of the Daily Prophet," he continued.

"All right, you idiot." She picked apart a crisp, leaving a pile of crumbs on her plate. "I'm not sure I have a specific location in mind. Somewhere outside? Somewhere we don't go all that often, but not somewhere so obscure we'll never visit again."

Severus chewed the last bites of his sandwich as he considered. "I believe I know somewhere well-suited. The—"

"No! Don't tell me!" Hermione interrupted. "I trust your judgement well enough, and I'd rather have it be a surprise. It will make things a bit more... special."

No pressure then. Severus felt his nerves returning full force. "Right. Well, I need to owl regarding dinner. Perhaps we should find some way to occupy our time this afternoon to keep the jitters at bay?"

"Well, with both our efforts, we could probably finish the library this afternoon, presuming you can keep your hands to yourself," she said, grinning. "Oh, but I had one last question about the ceremony. Did you want to exchange rings? The text said they were optional."

Ah, that was the one task he'd completed on his own. He knew there had been something. Well ahead of schedule, even. "I happen to have yours already," he stated, trying not to sound as smug as he felt.

She beamed at him, pushing away from the table. "And I've purchased yours." 

"I suppose we'll use rings then." 

Together they walked to the library, where the afternoon passed in blessedly short order. Periodicals were shelved. Books from both their collections were unpacked, dusted, and organised into an ideal arrangement. An owl arrived to confirm a six-thirty reservation for dinner. And every last one of the books was shelved, the last one sliding into place as the clock chimed four.

At four, Hermione handed Severus the beaded bag and shooed him into the guest bedroom. Severus took ten minutes to change into a rarely worn set of dark blue dress robes. He divided the remaining forty-five minutes between exploring the house—yes, he was exploring, not pacing—and writing a note to Molly breaking the news of their elopement. He called for Frances, the owl Hermione had acquired last week, and instructed her to wait until sunset to deliver the message. 

He was exploring the kitchen when Hermione entered. Severus narrowly avoided banging his head on the cabinet door when he caught sight of her. She was a vision in purple silk robes that ended mid-calf. Her hair was piled high upon her head, exposing her neck.

"It's almost a shame we're not getting photos today. You look stunning, Hermione," he said, restraining the urge to feel the fabric under his fingers. While there was no strict time schedule for their departure, Severus suspected Hermione would never forgive him if they became so distracted that they were rushed to make their dinner reservations.

"You look rather dashing yourself, Severus. And we'll look lovely in the Pensieve." She smiled, tucking her wand into her robe pocket. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. You're certain you don't want to select the location?" Severus asked.

"So long as it's not midpitch at Chudley, I'm quite certain the location will suit me."

Severus looked truly appalled. "Centre field at Chudley? I would never do such a thing to you. Whatever would give you that idea?"

"Well, that was where Ron suggested when we entertained the idea of running away during the night."

Shuddering, Severus offered his arm for Side-Along Apparition. "Are you ready, Hermione? Ballycastle awaits."

"Ballycastle! Severus! No Quiddi—Oh, yes, Severus, how very clever to tease your very-soon-to-be-wife."

"Well, I do try to be witty. Now, shall we?"

With a look of distrust, Hermione took his arm and closed her eyes against the dizzying pull of Apparition. 

She opened her eyes and gasped. "Severus, it's gorgeous! Where are we?"

"The magical section of the Lost Gardens of Heligan. As a licensed Potions master, I have Apparition privileges. I thought we might walk through the Lost Valley until we found a suitable location. Does this suit you?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes glistening. Severus cast charms to protect their shoes from the muddy path and added a Notice-Me-Not Charm for good measure. They walked arm-in-arm into the woods, the green canopy of the oaks blocking out the summer sun. They stopped here and there along the path, pointing out flora or fauna, and Severus regretted they'd not sneaked out in May to wed while the bluebell wood was in bloom. Eventually, they approached Top Pond, and their steps slowed. The lake was calm; the verdant trees along the shoreline reflected in its surface. "Does this look like the spot?" Severus asked, knowing the answer.

"It's perfect," Hermione choked out.

He turned to face her and brushed a tear from her cheek. Their eyes met, and Severus thanked Merlin for Molly's interference. For a moment, they lingered, their eyes shining and thumbs rubbing across one another's knuckles.

"Ready?" he asked at length.

Hermione nodded and pulled his ring and her wand from the inner pockets of her robe. With fumbling hands, they each placed rings on one another's fingers. Then, for the first time in his life, Severus Snape willingly handed his wand to someone else. He received hers and was surprised by the warm, welcoming feel of Hermione's magic.

Clasping Hermione once again, Severus held her wand steadily over their hands and incanted, "Unanimi nostri magici conjungemur." A tendril of magic arched between them.

Blinking back tears, Hermione raised his wand. "Unanimi nostri magici conjungemur." 

They shivered as the circuit of magic closed. A heavy silence filled the air, broken moments later when a robin chirped from a nearby tree.

"So, we're married, then, husband?" Hermione asked, trading wands once again.

"Yes, we are, wife." Severus slipped his arms around his bride and closed the distance between them. Their eyes closed. Their lips met, and for several minutes they stood alone in the world. 

From the moment the vows were completed, the remainder of the evening passed in a blurry haze. Severus wished he could say that dinner at The Enchanted Sceptre was worth every knut of the twenty-five Galleon dinner bill. He vaguely recalled the waiting staff being particularly attentive once Hermione let it slip that they'd just married, but they could have served Hippogriff liver on cardboard and he wouldn't have noticed. The lamb, beef, or whatever he ordered was probably delicately spiced and cooked to perfection. The wine was presumably appropriate for the meal, if more than a touch soporific. The side dishes were probably the ideal accompaniments. The coffee... he did remember the coffee because without it, he would have fallen face-first into the chocolate mousse.

This new incarnation of Severus Snape was turning out to be a besotted fool. All he could clearly remember from dinner was staring into Hermione's shining eyes. She was his, he was hers, and the rest of the world was as trivial as a gnat to a troll. Whether his utter obliviousness to the outside world was caused by the magic of their newly formed union or the occasion itself, he would never know. But given the idiotic grin that had been plastered on his face for the duration of the meal, he counted himself lucky that six hundred of his closest and not so close acquaintances had not witnessed the event.

Severus also wished he could say that the sex following their return to their home had been the most spectacular of his life. But he recalled precious little about that either. Immediately after Apparating home from dinner, Hermione had pulled him into the bedroom, casting a spell to disrobe both of them. Within short order, she had pushed him to the bed and straddled him. Judging by the sated smile currently adorning her face, she'd reached completion. His own orgasm was stronger than any Befuddlement Charm, and he wondered if a summer of love might render him an idiot of Longbottom proportions. Before he could consider the downsides of such a massive brain cell loss, Severus drifted to sleep.

Severus stretched, his limbs protesting the previous day's activity. Groggy though it would make him, perhaps a Healing Potion would set to right the abuse of packing, sex against a bookcase, unpacking, and general exhaustion from one of the most hectic days of his life. But the Healing Potion could wait. Rolling over, he attempted to wrap an arm around Hermione. The warm spot told him she was not long departed from their marriage bed. He stretched again and stood, shrugging on his robe. He shuffled into the hallway, and the scent of coffee beckoned him to the kitchen.

"Morning," he mumbled as he moved to kiss Hermione on the cheek. She flinched, and he braced himself for the imminent Tooth Cleaning Charm. The tingle of the charm was soon replaced by the warmth of her lips on his. Breaking the kiss before it could escalate into a bout of kitchen sex that would only injure him further, he mumbled, "Mmmm. So much better than waking to an Alarm Charm and breakfast in the Great Hall."

"Such glowing praise," Hermione teased with a grin, turning to the refrigerator to remove enough breakfast ingredients to feed half of Slytherin house. 

His protest died on his lips when his stomach rumbled loudly. He grabbed several vegetables to begin slicing, but Hermione shooed him away, shoving a mug of coffee into his hand. Grateful for the brew, he kissed her again and wandered over to the window, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes.

Severus squinted at the front lawn and rubbed his eyes again. A flock of small, red corpses littered the lawn. Severus smiled around the lip of the coffee mug. He turned to find Hermione grinning at him.

"I've counted seventeen so far. Your missive to Molly certainly ruffled her feathers."

Severus snorted as yet another Howler hit the wards and landed lifelessly on the ground, the delivery owl flying off in a dazed wobble.

"I'd considered dashing off a note to let her know your excellent wards are Howler-proof and that, oops, we couldn't receive her correspondence. But it might be best to let her blow off steam."

Severus snorted his assent and left his observation deck. He grabbed plates and cutlery and set the table.

"Besides," Hermione continued, dishing out what looked like a very promising omelette, "if we stop the Howlers, she might see fit to visit in person."

He stifled a yelp as he poured coffee over his thumb. "May Merlin save me from interfering ex-mothers-in-law," he grumbled as he sat at the table.

"Whatever shall I do to make our marriage worth the hassle?" she asked with a saucy wink as she scooped up a bite of breakfast.

"I suppose I might come up with ways you could make things worthwhile," Severus mused. "I believe you could begin by joining me in the shower following breakfast."

If Severus noticed Hermione eating more quickly than usual, he had the good grace not to comment. As he polished off his meal and gulped the last of his coffee, Severus decided that this new volume of his life—though the first chapter read like the racier bits of the tawdry novels he used to confiscate from his students—would suit him very well indeed.

Author's Note: There are so very many people to thank for this last chapter. First off, thank you, readers, for your patience and for continuing to read! Work, fic exchanges, and a recalcitrant muse made it seem like this chapter in particular would never be written.

First off, thanks to Mollyssister and MoreThanSirius, for your support in Chicago. Extra special thanks to MoreThanSirius for the most stunning gift of a Witches of Gilford Cookbook AND for indulging me with some drive home brainstorming that broke the muse's three-month mental block. Thanks for pointing me in the direction of the Hissing Harpies as well. I'll be reading their hijacked wedding shenanigans soon! (and taking notes on the swearing!)

Thanks to Walden Pondering for assisting me with the Latin marriage vows. Unanimi nostri magici conjungemur = "Let us be joined by our magic, as one."

Thanks to everyone who has helped along the way throughout the story: KittyleFish, Persevero (whose chip shop, pub, and wedding locale support was invaluable), MagicallyDelicious, Dreamy_Dragon, Lady_karelia, patient and supportive site admins, Voxangelus (the voice of Fleur), Lettybird, Mr. PJ, Walden Pondering, and my Mom (for shelving HP and the Mitford series side-by-side, spawning the whole idea).

The Lost Gardens of Heligan (the wedding location) was one of many beautiful places suggested by Persevero and can be found online at: http://www.heligan.com/

Lemsip (whose commercials are the only thing worse than American playground chants) was suggested by Dreamy_Dragon. One stunning example is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vy_xQexVzlk