Chapter Thirty-seven: Living Together

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to JKR. I'm just borrowing them to play with.

Chapter Thirty-seven: Living Together

Hermione closed the door of the wardrobe and shrunk her empty trunk to stow away. Thanks to Argus Filch, Snape's modest armoire had been switched for a roomy wardrobe, and a second set of drawers tucked into an unused corner of the bedroom had completed her storage needs for clothes. However, another foray into the castle's storerooms would be in order if any of her already substantial collection of books was to find a home.

She wandered around the silent rooms, adjusting a bottle or two in the bathroom and finally unloading parchment, quills, and reference texts onto the second desk in the living room ready to start her homework.

Where is he? I thought he was only going to do a quick round of the castle. He was in such an odd mood when he left, as if something had upset him. Before that letter came he was...

He was fine before the letter came. He does think it's ridiculous. Surely?

Picking up the letter from where it had been left on the floor, Hermione read it once more. A frown creased her forehead when she found no clue to her husband's change of demeanour.

***

The weight in Snape's chest had not eased despite several encounters with wayward students, including one somewhat unnervingly brash group of Gryffindors who cheered him as he stalked past rather than disappearing into the nearest dark corridor. Thoughts turned inward, he ignored the opportunity to deduct points and left them to their own devices.

Why did I assume she wanted children? My children. I always thought I hated children, but the idea of my seed growing within her... Dammit, I thought we'd at least talk about it!

She was still up when he crept through the door after midnight. Still in the living room, at least, sprawled out on the sofa clad only in a flimsy nightgown, her mouth pouting slightly open and snuffling softly in her sleep. A soft murmur escaped her lips as she stirred at his entrance. Spirits lifting at the sight of her, he banished his anxieties to await later discussion and scooped her up into his arms.

"Hi." Serious brown eyes met black as he laid her onto the bed.

"Hi, yourself, sleepyhead."

"Where have you been all this time? I missed you."

"Walking. And thinking." Discarding his robes and outer clothes, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"About the letter?" Her eyes followed the hands now unfastening his trousers.

"Yes." Snape stepped out of his remaining garment and stood beside the bed, his appreciation of the sight before him clearly evident.

All thoughts of Standish set aside with her nightgown, Hermione lay naked on the coverlet, her skin molten honey in the firelight, fingers lightly brushing the pebbled peaks of her arousal.

"Come to bed."

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the hand moving down her body as his own mirrored her actions.

"No. Your turn to watch."

***

Hermione groaned and hid her head under the pillow. I love him. I love him. I love him. Try as she might, the affirmation did not help. Snape, long used to his own company in the mornings, banged and thudded in and out of the bedroom and bathroom as he prepared himself for the day ahead at what Hermione had decided was an obscenely early hour.

Especially after the activities of the evening before. And twice during the night. And maybe an hour or so earlier, although she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it in her sleep-muddled haze.

"Why are you hiding under the pillow, woman?"

"Mmmmphgrrrrmm."

"Indeed."

"Grrmmssleeping."

"I see that. You don't want a cup of tea then?" Snape rested his hand on an enticing curve outlined by the quilt.

Sitting up with a start, Hermione scowled and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty."

"Five-thirty!"

"Of course. That's the time I always rise."

Slumping back down into the nest of warmth under the covers, Hermione muttered to herself. "I've married a bloody lunatic. Who gets up at five-thirty at this time of year?"

Smirking, Snape tucked the quilt around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "I do. However, as you are clearly not possessed of the ability to carry out an intelligent conversation at this hour, I shall go and drink my tea and leave you in peace."

"Don't forget to close the door after you." And a Silencing Charm wouldn't bloody hurt.

Finally – blissful, delicious quiet. Clearly, a few ground rules had to be set. An early morning shag was one thing, but the subsequent racket was totally unacceptable. Hermione dozed back off while constructing a mental list of Rules Regarding Early Morning Noise Control.

"Feeling better?" Snape glanced up from his desk as Hermione entered the sitting room, freshly showered and fully alert.

"Mmm. Thanks." Stealing a kiss as she passed, Hermione found a freshly brewed pot of tea on the side table and poured. "Gods, this is divine. What blend do you use?"

"Can't tell you all of my secrets." He smirked as he watched her drain her cup and refill it for a leisurely second.

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose you'll have to make the tea in the mornings then. Preferably after quietly dressing and showering."

"I believe we've already established you're not a morning person."

She nodded. "That's why I've always studied late at night. More time in bed in the morning." Catching the predatory gleam in his eye, she added, "For sleeping, Severus. You know, the other thing people do in beds?" Placing her empty cup on the table, Hermione sidled over to perch on his lap. With a finger, she traced the outline of his lips. "Not that I'm averse to more physical activities in the mornings, given the right incentive..."

It was a creditable attempt at his usual sneer, but Hermione could detect the amusement in his eyes. "So, everything has its price. As long as I sneak around my own bedroom in the morning while I get dressed, I'm permitted to ravish you whenever I so desire."

"Our bedroom. And you don't have to sneak, just don't bang the wardrobe and bathroom doors so much. There are no firsties to terrify in here, and you hardly need the practice."

"But I can ravish you whenever I wish?" Snape raised an eyebrow and allowed his hand to slide inside her robes to find the swell of her breast.

"Absolutely."

It was some time later before they were presentable enough for breakfast.

***

William Standish's letter lay unanswered on Snape's desk nearly hidden by a pile of third-year essays. Hermione glanced at it and scowled as she picked up the Daily Prophet discarded by Snape that morning.

"Anything in the Prophet today worth reading?"

"Not a lot, unless you think Madame Malkin's expanding to another shop is exciting. Personally, I don't care what I wear, as long as it's black." Snape gestured to his ever-faithful black robes.

Hermione chuckled. "Not that anyone would notice. Maybe if it was Flourish and Blott's I'd be interested." Flicking through the pages, Hermione suddenly fell silent and stared at the parchment in front of her. "Fuck! Kingsley Shacklebolt!"

Snape glanced up. "I hope you don't mean that, Hermione. I really don't think he's my type."

"You have a type? In men?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I prefer the ones who stay well away from my witch. What about Shacklebolt?"

Hermione folded the paper carefully and placed it to one side. "I forgot all about it, what with you... and me... and everything. He offered me a job at Christmas."

"If you think I'll allow you to leave Hogwarts before you have completed your education..."

"Severus Snape, if you think for one minute you can dictate what I do... Never mind. The job was for after I have graduated. Sorting out the mess his office records were left in by the previous incumbents. He seems to think for some reason I'd be good at it. It would just be temporary, and he promised he'd give me a good reference if I didn't want to stay when I was finished."

Snape bowed his head. "I apologise. I over-reacted. You have the right to decide what you do and when you do it." He extracted the letter from Standish from the pile on his desk. "I'd rather hoped you would wish to model again this summer."

This time Hermione saw the disappointment wash over Snape's face before he schooled his features. "Oh, Severus, you know I'd love to pose for you again. Last summer was... incredible. Getting to know you was a bonus, but being part of creating something so wonderful was one of the best experiences of my life. But I told you how I felt about his idea."

His back was stiff as he turned away. "You told me it was ridiculous. Is the thought of motherhood so ridiculous?" Snape wheeled around to face her, his expression naked and vulnerable. He spoke so softly she had to lean forward to catch the words. "Is the thought of carrying my child so ridiculous?"

Hermione gasped as his interpretation of her words the previous evening struck with the chill of a winter's night. "No, no, you don't understand." Reaching for his hand, she tugged him closer. "Severus, more than anything else in the world, I'd love to bear your child one day. Or children. It was the idea that motherhood is the epitome of a woman's existence I objected to. That all a woman is can be represented by her ability to carry a child."

"You don't believe becoming a mother is fulfilling?"

"I believe carrying the child of the man I love would be immensely fulfilling. But a woman is not just a mother. She is a daughter, a wife, a sister, a friend. She's a lover, a writer, an artist, a teacher. She's a scientist, a gardener, a thinker. She's everything and so much more. You can't define a woman by motherhood alone. Just as we explored every facet of a woman's body in your last exhibition, in the next we should showcase a woman's full potential."

Relief softened his features as a smile crept into his eyes. "We?"

"Of course. You don't think I'm going to allow any other woman to spend that much time alone with you. Especially if there is nudity involved."

"Nudity. Who said anything about nudity?"

"Trust me, Severus, if we spend any amount of time in your studio, there will be nudity."

"And what about Shacklebolt's offer?"

"I'm sure we could come to some arrangement for me to start in September once school resumes. It would be easy enough to set up a direct Floo connection to the Ministry, I imagine. After all, I have the Minister of Magic on my side."

"Indeed."

Much later, after marking and homework had been completed, Hermione curled up against Snape's side on the sofa, tracing an intricate design on his thigh through the wool of his trousers. As her finger wandered closer and closer, then boldly trailed up and down his burgeoning length, Snape captured her hand and drew it up to his lips. "Cease and desist, woman, or I'll embarrass myself like an overeager schoolboy again."

Smiling, Hermione simply continued her activity with her other hand. "Tell me, Severus, did you have any secret schoolboy fantasies when you were at Hogwarts?"

His blush answered the question quite succinctly.

"Tell me."

***

"Oh, sweet Circe in a Citroën, Severus, don't stop!"

"Not... planning... to," Snape panted. Lifting her bottom higher, he began thrusting harder and faster as he felt his impending orgasm swelling within him, focussing all his senses on the point of contact between their bodies. With a final cry, he pushed them both over the edge into gasping, shuddering ecstasy.

"Holy fuck! That was incredible." Hermione flipped over onto her back and sat in the seat she had been kneeling upon. "A bit hard on the knees though. Could have done with a Cushioning Charm."

"I thought I was supposed to be the old and decrepit one in this relationship." Snape stretched and leaned back, admiring the vastness of the night sky above.

"Old and decrepit you may not be, but your imagination is sadly lacking. Taking me from behind in the teacher's Quidditch stand. Isn't that a bit trite?" She grinned.

"I was fifteen; forgive me if my sexual fantasies did not involve anything more exotic than actually getting an orgasm that didn't involve my trusty friend here." He held out his right hand, still trembling a little from his climax.

"Your friend has served you well, from memory, but it's time for him to retire. Unless I can watch."

"You, wicked woman, are far too fond of watching me masturbate." Snape watched her pupils dilate as he ran his hand over the skin of his belly, through the coarse curls at his groin, and down to cup his still soft penis. Her soft groans as he slowly stroked the velvety skin encouraged a rapid thickening and hardening despite the chilly air permeating the fading Warming Charm.

Suddenly, he stopped and turned to his wife.

"Sweet Circe in a Citroën? Where did that come from?"

Hermione strangled her cry of frustration and replied, "Long story. Camping involved long periods of inactivity between bursts of panic. We made up swears to distract ourselves. Now, will you please carry on with what you were doing?"

Further encouragement was unnecessary as Snape proceeded with the job in hand.

***

Brilliant idea, old chap! I must say young Grace has had a positively enlightening influence on you. By all means rummage up a few sketches and ideas and send them to me. I think we're onto another winner!

William

Hermione passed the letter back to Snape with a grin. "Looks like we've got work to do, Sidney."

"I have work to do. You have exams to study for. I'm quite capable of creating a few sketches without supervision."

"But won't you need a model?"

Snape caught her around the waist and drew her body along the length of his. "I think I have a fairly in-depth knowledge of my model. I can do the drawings from memory alone in the initial stages. I'll need your assistance once I start painting over summer."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose it will be back to the dark hair and blue eyes if we don't want to shock William. Or I could just tell him I'd had a change of hairdo and contacts."

"You'll do no such thing, young lady. My peace of mind relies on the fact that our first paintings were of Grace Henman and not of Hermione Granger."

"I still wish I knew who bought those two paintings, Severus."

He scowled in the general direction of Standish's letter. "I'm not entirely sure I want to know who has your intimate anatomy displayed on his wall."

Resting her head on his shoulder, Hermione nodded. "I suppose that would be awkward, wouldn't it? Better not to know."

At that moment, not so far away, the thought of the paintings of Hermione Granger brought a smile to their owner's lips.

***

A/N: This was written for shalimar1981 for the TPP Every Flavour Auction. Many thanks as always to karelia for her beta eyes.