Eight

The Best Laid Schemes

Chapter Eight

"Are you ready to leave?" Snape asked Hermione as they watched the car turn the corner and head up the coast road toward Coral Bay.

"I just need to go in and get my bag."

"I have to settle the bill with Ari, and then we can go," Snape said as he held the door open to allow Hermione to precede him inside.

Five minutes later, they were walking back out the door. Snape held Hermione's arm to guide her along the dimly lit pavement. The night was warm, but a cooling breeze was blowing in from the water.

"Ari is a generous soul," Snape said as they strolled along. "He refused to add the baklava and the ouzo to the bill, and he insisted on giving us a 'newlywed discount'."

"Everyone here has been very hospitable," Hermione said.

"I left the waiter a rather large gratuity. He'll have to clean up the broken crockery, after all."

"I ... I got rid of some of it," Hermione said a bit hesitantly as though fearing the admission would make him angry.

Snape smiled. "I did as well. I'm sure the poor sod will be grateful, if a bit puzzled."

Hermione smiled back. "I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier."

"Thank me?"

"For the flowers." She held up her bouquet. "They're beautiful."

Snape shrugged. "It was nothing."

"It wasn't 'nothing'. It was a very thoughtful thing to do, and I appreciate it."

Snape was suddenly grateful for the dim light. He was sure his face had coloured.

"It seemed you were ... disappointed ... about missing some of the more traditional aspects of a wedding."

"I think I was a bit, at least at first." Hermione admitted. "But after you left this morning I realised that I didn't actually have any preconceived notions about what my wedding should or shouldn't be like."

"Yet you didn't want me to see your dress."

"I think that was more a generic, knee-jerk response to the situation – something I've heard my mum or my aunt say. I don't really believe that bad luck will ensue if the groom sees the bride's dress before the wedding. And I realised something else while I was wrapped in seaweed this afternoon ..."

"Seaweed?"

"Don't ask."

"I'm not sure I want to know," he said dryly.

"You don't; but as I was saying, today I realised that even if I'd had the opportunity to have a 'wedding' – a big affair with bridesmaids and music and guest lists – I wouldn't have gone that route anyway."

"No? Why not?"

"It's just not me. I've never fussed with my hair or my make-up, and I was never overly concerned about fashion or style. A long gown with lace and a train and a veil would have made me feel clumsy and uncomfortable. This outfit suits me. I couldn't have found a better dress for my wedding."

"It's a lovely dress," Snape said. "Martin was right about that. You do look like a goddess rising from the sea."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "I like your suit, as well. I don't think I've ever seen you in a Muggle-style suit."

"Because Spinner's End is in a Muggle area, I seldom wear robes. And you see me in Muggle clothes all the time."

"Not a suit," Hermione insisted.

"Jeans and trainers are much easier to work in, not to mention more comfortable, than a suit and tie."

"Oh, I agree. I hardly ever wear robes anymore. But I still like the suit; it makes you look quite distinguished."

"Thank you. Ah ... here's our hotel," he said. He was quite glad to leave any discussion of his looks – distinguished or not – behind.

A uniformed doorman opened the door for them, and they stepped through into a lavishly appointed lobby.

"I registered us earlier," he said as he led her past the front desk and straight back toward the lifts. "They gave me the key, but I didn't visit the room."

The car stopped on the fourth floor, and they stepped out into the hallway.

He glanced at the discreet signs posted and turned left. He slipped the key card from his pocket and inserted it into the electronic lock.

"There must be a mistake," he muttered as they stepped into the room.

Hermione hid a smile. "Uh ... this looks like the honeymoon suite. Did you mention we were newlyweds?"

Snape looked around the garishly decorated room incredulously. "I may have, but I certainly didn't expect this. Red velvet draperies, a mirrored ceiling, a vibrating bed? This seems more like a brothel than a honeymoon suite. I'll make arrangements for another room immediately."

He turned back toward the door, but Hermione stopped him with a touch of her hand on his arm.

"It's just for one night, it'll be fine."

"You don't find it offensive?"

"It's certainly tacky, but I wouldn't call it offensive. Do you find it offensive?"

"Only to my innate sense of style and my impeccable good taste," he said dryly.

"We'll close our eyes," she said as she put her bag and her bouquet down on one of the over-stuffed settees. She looked up at him, and then she smiled. "Besides, the vibrating bed will certainly make the night memorable."

Snape slid his suit coat off and tossed it down next to her bag. Then he stepped close to her and touched her cheek gently.

"I certainly hope it won't take a vibrating bed to make the night memorable," he said in a silky tone.

"Why don't we find out?" she asked.

"Well, if you insist."

And then he bent his head and kissed her. The kiss was gentle at first, almost shy. But as he sensed her responding, he deepened the kiss, his tongue snaking out to trace her lips and to slip into her mouth to taste her.

When he lifted his lips from hers, they were both a bit breathless.

"I think it's memorable already," she said.

"I know I'm not what you might have wished for in a husband ..." he began, and as he spoke, his fingers lifted to touch his neck.

She reached up and placed two fingers across his lips, stopping his words.

"At this moment, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have as a husband." She traced his lips with her fingertip and threaded her fingers through his hair. And then she grasped his fingers in her hand and lifted them away from his neck.

"It doesn't bother me, you know," she said softly. "And neither does this," she added as she touched his arm gently.

"They bother me." As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to call them back. He turned away from her and moved toward the window. He pushed the heavy curtain aside and looked out onto the nearly deserted street.

Hermione stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, but she didn't speak. She rested her cheek against his back and listened as his ragged breathing evened out, and his thumping heartbeat slowed.

After a few minutes, she heard him sigh, and then he turned within the circle of her arms. Now her cheek rested on his chest, and his arms rose to wrap around her and hold her there.

"They are ugly reminders of ugly times and ugly deeds," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Hermione lifted her head, and then she pulled away slightly. She tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it and pulling it free of his collar. She used nimble fingers to free the buttons of his shirt, spreading it open as she did and kissing the pale skin as it was exposed. At first, he tensed and tried to pull away, but she held him with one hand, caressed him with the other, and whispered soothingly between kisses. "Hush. Let me ... let me."

He dropped his arms and allowed her tender touches. She pulled his shirt from his trousers, and then she peeled it down his arms. The sleeves caught at his wrists, but she quickly released the cuff links, and the shirt fell free.

She stood on tiptoes and dipped her lips to his neck.

Again, he tensed. "Hermione ..."

"Let me," she repeated. Her lips traced the ragged edges of the scar. Her tongue laved it, and he shivered.

"You survived." She kissed the scar again and again, and each touch of her lips exorcised a bit of the lingering, painful memory of that awful night.

"You survived. Thank all the gods you survived," she whispered against his neck. Her lips touched him again. "This proves you were smarter than that bastard, and you survived."

She let her lips trail down his neck to his shoulder and then lower still. She took his arm in her hands, bending it at the elbow. She kissed along his biceps and the crease inside his elbow. And then her lips were hovering just above the faded tattoo that marred his forearm.

"It's nearly gone," she said softly.

"It will never be gone," he replied, but he didn't pull away from her.

"The others ... Lucius, Dawlish, even Narcissa ... their Marks are still dark. They fester, they itch, they burn. Yours is like Harry's scar ... fading."

His breath hissed in through clenched teeth as he felt her lips lower to touch his flesh, and he tensed again.

"Let me," she crooned over and over between kisses, between soft licks. "Let me, Severus."

Never had the Mark given him anything but pain, and he braced himself to feel the fire burning once again. But all he felt was the softness of her lips and then the gentle sweep of her tongue.

Her lips moved across his flesh in tender, healing strokes. Up and down his arm, across his chest, over his neck and then back again. Her lips made a pilgrimage across his body over and over again until every bit of tension and discomfort had been drawn from him.

A different kind of tension began to fill him then – a different kind of discomfort. And when her bottom teeth scraped lightly across his nipple, he hissed with a different kind of pain.

"Fuck ... oh, fuck, Hermione," he groaned. He took her face between his hands and kissed her deeply, hungrily.

She arched against him, a low moan seeping out from their joined lips.

He bent his knees slightly and scooped her up into his arms. He walked over to the bed and placed her gently atop the tufted, red velvet duvet. He dropped down next to her and stretched out beside her, his elbow on the bed, and his head resting on his hand. His other hand moved along the length of her body, beginning with soft strokes across her cheeks and feathery touches along her neck. He skimmed her breasts lightly, and he felt her shiver slightly as his hand drifted across her belly and cupped her mound through the beautiful, gauzy dress she'd chosen as her wedding gown. His hand slid along her hip and down over her thigh. Then he lifted his hand back to her face and started the journey again.

"I've been alone my entire life," he said as he looked into her eyes, his hand cupping her cheek. "I never thought I'd marry – and I probably never would have if not for this insane law. But at this moment, I can't imagine being married to anyone but you."

She smiled up at him. Her fingers twined through his hair, and she tugged him down, urging him to stretch out over her. She spread her legs slightly and he settled himself into the cradle of her hips. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, and he knew she could feel his hardness through the layers of clothing they still wore. He bent his head to hers and kissed her again.

"But now that I am married," he said when he lifted his lips from hers a few minutes later, "I intend to take full advantage of the ... privileges ... that go along with being married."

Hermione licked her suddenly dry lips. "The law does state that the ... the marriage act ... must take place at least once a week."

"I think I'd prefer once a day," Snape said with a small quirk of his lips. "I've a lot of lonely nights to make up for."

"Once a day?"

"And twice on Sunday," he murmured as he licked the delicate whorl of her ear.

"Today is Sunday, isn't it?" Hermione asked as she turned her head so that he could nip at the sensitive column of her neck.

"Not quite; it's nearly midnight, though."

"Then you'd better finish up with Saturday, hadn't you?" she asked in a solemn tone.

He chuckled softly and set about to follow her instructions.

Although she couldn't have articulated why, Hermione was surprised to discover that Severus was a tender, considerate lover. He undressed her slowly, touching and kissing her as he did. He took his time to make sure she was aroused and ready before he entered her. He rocked over her slowly, bringing her to orgasm before he allowed himself his own release.

She was even more surprised that when it was over, he stretched out beside her, wrapped an arm around her, and drew her head to his chest.

Severus Snape was a cuddler? No one would believe her – not that she'd tell anyone anyway. She smiled inwardly at the idea of dropping that little titbit at the next Hogwarts reunion. And then she draped her arm across his chest and settled herself comfortably against his side.

No one would ever know this side of Severus. It was too special, too incredible to share with anyone. She hugged the thought to herself and smiled against his chest.

She had never felt closer or more attuned to anyone in her life.

"We could chance a contraceptive charm," Snape said a few moments later. "It's unlikely the Ministry could detect it from here."

"It's the wrong time of the month for me to get pregnant, but we won't need a charm anyway," Hermione replied.

"No?"

"Do you know what an IUD is?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"I went to my doctor – my Muggle doctor – right after the new law passed. The Ministry may have coerced me into marriage by threatening to take away my magic, but they won't turn me into a brood mare. When and if I decide to have children, it will be my choice."

"Clever witch." He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.

"I was nervous when I went for my fertility exam, but the Healers at St. Mungo's didn't find anything amiss."

"Even if they'd detected it during the exam, it's unlikely they would have realised its purpose. The wizarding world has relied upon charms and potions to prevent pregnancy for centuries. The idea of a birth control device is quite outside their reality."

"Sometimes being a Muggle-born has its advantages," she replied.

"Indeed. And an IUD has advantages for me, as well. I won't have to stop at the chemist shop on my way home."

Hermione smiled. "Were you planning to?"

"Yes, I was. And, as unlikely as it was, if the Ministry had discovered I was using condoms, I would have explained that their purpose was to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, conveniently omitting any other purpose they might serve."

"You would have told them you had an STD?"

"Of course not; I would have told them you had an STD."

Hermione pulled out of his arms and sat up, drawing the sheet up to cover herself.

"What?"

Snape reached up and stroked her cheek.

"I'm joking, Hermione."

Hermione huffed out a breath. "I knew that."

"Of course you did," he said with a barely hidden smile. "Now, get back down here. It's after midnight, it's Sunday, and I'm behind schedule."

"Twice on Sunday, right?" Hermione said as she moved back down and turned to him eagerly.

"Oh, yes," Snape murmured and began kissing her.

Author's Note: This story was written for the Potter Place's Variety Challenge. This is the prompt I chose: Something Old – Revisit a once popular challenge. I chose to revisit the Marriage Law Challenge, but I've placed the story in a post-DH timeline.