Chapter Four

Thank you for reading and reviewing. A special thanks goes to stgulik, my beta goddess, and to Subversa, who supplied the fantastic prompt for this fic. I will include the original prompt at the end of the story, so you can tell me if I fulfilled it properly.

This chapter contains explicit sexual content.

It's all fun and games 'till someone loses an eye, then it's just fun you can't see.

James Hetfield

"Have you lost what little mind you were blessed with, Orchid?" Severus roared. "Absolutely not! This isn't a bloody freak show!"

Pervis Orchid, the representative of the Wizarding War Museum, visibly cowed. He was vastly intimidated by the tall, imposing Headmaster, and it bruised his already fragile ego to have the man shouting at him.

The Headmaster had been barely polite from the moment Mr. Orchid arrived, but as he listened to the little man briskly telling him how this was to be exhibited and that was to be displayed, he grew more and more impatient. Finally, out of the blue, the Headmaster completely exploded in Orchid's face, turned on his heel and strode away from the Museum area.

Orchid followed him, of course. Headmaster Snape must be made to see reason, his supervisor had told him; establish your authority with him and be assertive! Orchid squared his shoulders and scuttled along beside the Professor. A short, dumpy little wizard who remembered Severus from his own school days, Orchid had to scurry to keep up with the taller wizard as he strode down the hall toward his study.

As it became clear that the Headmaster had no intention of shortening his stride, Orchid felt a rising indignation. He was after all, the Undersecretary to the Assistant Director of Satellite Museum Locations in the Greater Scotland Area. The man should at least give him his due, instead of bellowing at him as if he were just another dimwitted student.

"Now, see here, Headmaster – "

"I will 'see here' nothing!" Severus roared, incensed, his long strides eating up the corridor. "I've been overrun, overturned, and overruled since this fucking thing began!" He turned on the shorter man with such sudden menace Orchid literally skidded to a halt.

Severus bore down on Orchid, his black eyes snapping fire. In a low, sinister voice, he hissed, "My cooperation is essential for this thrice-damned Museum, and you are in peril of losing it altogether. This is exactly the type of lurid shite I suspected this Installation would attempt to foist on the unsuspecting children of this school!" He spun away, leaving the undersecretary to scamper after him again, spluttering excuses as they raced down the corridor.

Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts' Herbology professor, was chatting amicably with a group of third years as the Headmaster thundered past, his dark robes billowing and snapping angrily behind him. Professor Longbottom froze, as did his audience, as Severus flew by in all of his furious glory.

"Professor, was that the Headmaster?" Morgana Wablock asked tentatively, her blue eyes wide. They stared down the hall, along with the other students and professors the Headmaster left gaping in his wake. "I've never seen him look so, so upset!"

Neville watched his former professor, now Headmaster and boss, and shook his head. "Well, I'm not sure, but," Professor Longbottom laughed shakily, to the concern of his students, "it sure takes me back to when I was your age."

The Headmaster's wife was also blown past as she headed in the opposite direction, and as their eyes met, she could see that her husband was angry, but it was more than just fury. It was worry, concern, guilt, humiliation; all the horrible things she associated with her DADA professor during her sixth year in school. Whatever the little tin god scurrying beside Severus had said, it was enough to cause Severus distress such as she'd not seen in almost ten years. Hermione's alarm soon turned to anger. How dare that jumped-up little jobsworth upset her husband so? Severus rarely lost his temper anymore; it was clear to Hermione that he had.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. Things had been a little strained as they prepared for the day; neither had had the courage to mention the conversation of the previous evening, and Hermione wondered if that factored into his present mood as well.

But time and class wait for no witch; Hermione reluctantly turned away and headed toward her last class of the day. Seeing his obvious distress, Hermione felt her own petty wants and needs were rather immaterial at the moment, and she was prepared to put them away for good if it restored her precious husband's peace of mind.

Hermione did not see him again until they met in the Great Hall for dinner. It was a tense affair; news of the Headmaster's uncharacteristic fit of temper had spread through the school, and being the haven for gossip that all boarding schools are wont to be, the Hogwarts' student body thrummed with speculation that evening. Some said that the Headmaster hated the idea of the museum so much he was sabotaging it; others said the designers had angered him because they wanted a display about the Death Eaters. Still others were certain that he was angry that there was no special exhibit about him.

When Hermione turned to him, the question in her eyes, Severus smiled tightly, and put a reassuring hand on her arm. "Later, my dear. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss my outburst. Our students are already so stirred up that I think my only option is to pretend the whole incident of little import."

Hermione returned his smile, and returned to her chicken. Whatever had happened, she would winkle it from him if it took all night. She had not seen him that angry since her own school days here. She could not tell him that even in the midst of his fearsome display, she felt a frisson of excitement; nor could she admit, even to herself, that seeing him blazing through the halls had given her a thrill of sheer want that had left her knickers decidedly damp.

It was not until later that evening that they were finally alone. There were a dozen or so important and unimportant matters requiring attention that evening, and it was almost ten o'clock that night before Hermione and Severus closed and locked the door of their bedchamber. As he sat down on the bed, Severus quietly removed his boots and socks. Hermione watched her husband carefully, as he pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his neck, wincing a little as he stretched.

She climbed onto the bed behind him and began to massage his shoulders. She had a firm but gentle touch, and Severus purred as she found all the knots and kinks in his muscles and soothed them one by one. With each deep breath, he let go of the tension of the day. A loud moan marked the location of one particularly pernicious knot, and Hermione set about to banish it.

"I will inform you when you are allowed to stop," he groaned, as the aggravations of the day bled from his muscles. "A month or so should do it." He rolled his neck sensuously. "Ah ... I don't know what I would do if you didn't rub my shoulders at the end of the day."

Hermione smiled. "For one thing, you'd look pretty silly with your shoulders up around your ears." Once she felt him lean back against her, she knew he was completely relaxed, and the movement of her hands changed from massage to stroking. It was usually a prelude to love, sliding her hands over his skin, unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt, feeling the warm, smooth flesh of his chest. Soon his hands rose to cover hers.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to force it from you?" she whispered against his ear, and he chuckled darkly.

"I'd be quite interested in knowing how you plan to 'force' anything from me, Madam," he drawled silkily.

Hermione smiled, and slid from the bed until she was facing him. She knelt down between his thighs, and finished unbuttoning his long robes. "It depends on your definition of the word 'force', my darling husband," she replied flirtatiously, parting his robes. Severus smirked, and leaned back, propping himself up with his hands.

"Do your worst, witch," he said thickly, his eyes growing dark with arousal. He looked at her expectantly, and hummed softly as she slipped his cock from its confines. His eyelids lowered, framing his dark eyes with impossibly thick, black lashes. He allowed himself a smirk as she slid her long, slender fingers over his rapidly swelling member, enjoying the look of anticipation on her face.

The first time she knelt before him and prepared to take him into her mouth, she looked up at him with flaming cheeks and said, "I really want to give you the best blow job of your life, but, I've never done this with a man this – this," she stuttered, "I mean, Merlin, Severus, you're as big as a house! I'm a little intimidated."

To her surprise, he had laughed, then dragged her into his arms, kissing any available area he could reach. "It will be alright, Hermione," He'd smirked. "I would advise you to take it a bit at a time." It had taken her a while to get the hang of it, but Hermione was nothing if not an overachiever.

Hermione stroked him now with long, deft strokes, hearing his breathing quicken. It excited her to feel his body open to her, and as she flicked her tongue over the head of his cock, it thrilled her to hear him hiss his appreciation.

"I suppose I could tease you into telling me," she murmured, her breath warm against his sensitive skin. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" She emphasised her words with light, tickling licks over the underside of his cock. She scraped her teeth gently against the sensitive little membrane, and when he gasped and his hips jerked upwards, she grinned lazily. "Perhaps I should torment it out of you."

He looked down at his wife with a look that made Hermione's already-damp knickers sopping wet. Grasping his swollen member with one hand and her chin with the other, he purred, "Let's do something more productive with that little mouth of yours, hmm?" He pulled her toward him, easing his cock between her warm, plump lips.

Hermione closed her eyes and took as much of his large cock in her mouth as she was able. She was more aroused than she thought possible. He almost never spoke during sex, and hearing him say something so lascivious was unbearably exciting to her. She closed her hand over his, and they pumped his cock into her mouth together.

"Ah, yes, much better," He sneered, shivering. He moaned as he thrust deeply, until he could feel the back of her throat close against the head of his cock. "Oh, yes, sweetness ... fuck, that's good ..." His long fingers tugged at her hair, and he moved in and out of her mouth slowly, enjoying the wet heat of her mouth sucking at his flesh.

Hermione looked up at him, thrilled at how vocal he was. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to suck him hard, to swoop down on him, devour him, and bring him off quickly. He loved to lie back and let her take him over; it was the closest he came to letting go completely.

Hermione also knew that if she was patient, she would get what she wanted, and sucked hard, her tongue swirling over the slit of the head as it peeked from the foreskin. His hips churned up to meet her, and when she looked up into his face, it was slack and blank, and he was trembling. She pulled his cock from her mouth with a hard, sucking release that made him growl.

"Are you going to tell me?" she purred, licking him, her strong hand on the long, twisting downward stroke, and he whimpered, and began to thrust upwards. Her hand glided over his sac, and he gave a soft cry, a sound so vulnerable and boy-sweet it made her pussy clench. He was fucking her mouth now, his body taut, and his face was so open and abandoned Hermione felt something like power slide into her belly. "Are you?"

"Shut up and suck me!" he roared, and she almost came at his feral command. The feeling of sexual power over him was overwhelming, and she pushed harder.

"Will you tell me, love? Will you?" she cried, pumping his cock hard, rolling his balls in her hand, and his eyes slid closed as they rolled back. He was gasping, his silky brows arched in a scowl, and his tongue slid sensuously over the edge of his top lip. "Will you?" she cried, and began to suck hard, her hand sliding along his shaft with powerful, hard strokes.

Hermione watched him as she licked and sucked and stroked him; suddenly, his glassy eyes widened and his mouth formed a surprised 'O' of intense pleasure. She moaned deliriously, and the vibration reverberated through his groin, and he fucked her mouth with abandon. He was coming, and Hermione pulled back just as he passed the point of no return. His face was luminous with erotic intensity. She cried, "Tell me!"

He shouted, "Yes! Oh, gods, yes, I'm come ... coming ... oh fuck ... take it," he snarled, his voice full of sexual power. "Take... it... all, witch..."

He growled low in his throat as his orgasm raced through his groin, his come hot and pungent as it spurted from his cock into her waiting mouth. He cried out over and over as Hermione took him to the hilt, burying her nose in his delicious-smelling pubic hair. He was clenching her head almost painfully as he rode out each wave of ecstasy.

As the last of the spasms shuddered from his cock, Severus opened his glazed eyes and watched as Hermione leaned back, his milky issue smeared over her mouth. He groaned loudly as she licked it from her lips like melted sugar. She closed her eyes and swallowed the last of it, a smile on her glowing face. Exhausted, Severus fell back on the bed, his chest heaving, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his pale skin.

Hermione sat back on her haunches, watching her husband gasping, his flaccid cock resting against his thigh. Finally, with a heaving sigh, he rose from the bed, pulled her to her feet and over onto the bed with him, and enveloped her in his arms. He placed a fervent kiss of devotion on her forehead.

"Tell me again why I married you, my dear?"

Hermione laughed. "Because of my fellatious skills?"

"That, and I couldn't have allowed you to waste such an indecently tight cunt on some dunderhead too foolish to appreciate what you have hidden beneath those scandalous little knickers."

"Ah, I see," Hermione giggled. He rarely spoke so coarsely. It gave her a little tingle to hear him use lurid words like 'cunt' and 'knickers'. After the previous night, his increased vocality seemed like an apology, a gift of sorts, and she felt herself relaxing.

He tried to renege, of course. "Coercing a man under such extreme interrogation measures doesn't count," he said, and tried to cajole his way out of talking about the events earlier in the day. He knew he was stalling for time, but he could no more resist baiting his little lioness than a boy could resist popping a balloon. As she scowled at him, he found himself chuckling. Was it really so bad that he couldn't talk to Hermione about it? She, of all people, would agree with him.

He pushed himself back against the headboard of the bed and stretched. "That little pillock from the Museum told me they wanted to make the Installation as authentic as possible. I said, 'I couldn't agree more.' He went on to say that they had amassed a whole host of artifacts from the Battle, including some of the destroyed Horcruxes and a fang from the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets."

Hermione was very quiet. She herself had used one of those fangs to help destroy Helga Hufflepuff's cup; she was surprised at the depth of uncertainty she felt, knowing she would see those items again.

Severus watched the emotions play across his wife's face, and continued reluctantly. "I again agreed that these artifacts would be desirable, not only for those seeing them for the first time, but to those of us who witnessed it firsthand." Severus face darkened. "Then, he came to my display. I was told that among the artifacts would be a replica of my old Potions book, the one Potter used during your sixth year here -"

Hermione gasped. "Of course! The property of the Half-Blood Prince!"

Severus nodded, "The very one. He showed me various photographs, essays, and Potions journals I had contributed. The setting would be the Potions classroom, since I'd spent most of my career there. There will be a replica of my wand, my Order of Merlin ..." Severus' voice dropped, and Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"That doesn't sound so bad, Severus. Why would you get upset -"

"They want to have a mannequin charmed to look and sound like me walking throughout the display - wearing my Death Eater robes and mask, giving a lecture about the night I killed Dumbledore!" Severus burst out, with barely suppressed fury. "That gods-forsaken little toe rag from the Museum already has the Minister's approval to do it, so I was told to hand them over to the Artifacts Superintendent by the end of the week!"

Hermione was stunned. "That's just – I mean, well." She was completely off guard. "That's just tacky." She looked at him, shocked. "You mean your robes – your Death Eater robes - you still have them after all this time?"

Severus looked abashed. Gritting his teeth, he replied, "Apparently I'm the only Death Eater alive who hasn't had the sense to destroy the wretched things. After I-" His face darkened, and he closed his eyes to calm himself. "After Dumbledore, I Apparated to Malfoy Manor, and dressed in the robes to face the Dark Lord. When he dismissed me, I went to Spinner's End. I stuffed them in a box and left them there. I never wore them again."

He paused, eyes narrowed in remembrance. "When I sold the place, right before I returned to Hogwarts, I just shrank everything in the house down, lock, stock and barrel, and moved it here." He looked resigned. "Yes, I still have them after all this time."

Hermione was completely nonplussed. A part of her, the part of her possessing good taste and tact, was shocked and wanted to give the Minister a piece of her mind. Having an effigy of the Headmaster of Hogwarts stalking around in a Museum display wearing Death Eater robes struck her as the epitome of poor taste. It would have been amusing, had Hermione not been aware of exactly how much the idea distressed Severus. Perhaps one day they could laugh about it; not now.

"Well," she began, having no idea how she planned to continue the sentence, "perhaps ... you ... could agree to let them use the robes on the proviso that the mannequin remain static. I can see why they would want to display them, but - "

"Why my robes, Hermione? Why does it have to be mine?" Severus let his head fall back against the headboard. "Any credibility I have here will be undermined to the point of non-existence if they do this."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "We'll figure something out, Severus." She crossed the room and climbed into bed with him. "Please try not get so upset. There's always a way to fix these things."

Severus gathered his wife into his arms. "I wonder what it's like to have a quiet life," he grumbled, placing an absent-minded kiss on her head. "First our newly repaired gates are scaring away the magical creatures, and now my greasy image is going to be looming about, scaring away the students with ghost stories. Why can't they just leave me alone?" he hissed to himself.

"Stop. We will fix this." Hermione said, emphatically. "In the meantime, perhaps your Death Eater robes will meet with an unfortunate accident."

Severus made a frustrated sound. "I already told him I still have them. I had no idea he was planning such an asinine way of displaying them. I have to loan them out now."

Hermione rested her cheek against Severus' warm chest. "Then we'll just have to make sure the mannequin meets with an unfortunate accident."

For a moment, Severus was silent. Finally, he turned to his wife. "Are you sure you aren't a closet Slytherin?" For the first time, a ghost of a smile played about his lips. "You really are the brightest little witch, you know."

Hermione snuggled against her husband, and breathed a sigh as his arms wound around her. "I married you, didn't I?"

Severus kissed her deeply. "Thank all the gods you did," he said, then turned to the lamps and waved a careless hand. "Nox."