Chapter 29

A/N -- Please forgive me for taking so long to post this last chapter, but I actually rewrote large portions of it!

O Constant Reader, thank you for making this journey with me. I have loved sharing this with you, debating it with you, and knowing that you love it every bit as much as I do.

Thanks be to God forevermore for the constant friendship, support, and unflagging efforts of my betas, LariLee and Keladry Lupin, and my Brit-picker, MagicAlly. This story would never have seen the light of day without their encouragement and invaluable corrections and input. I owe you each a Wizard's Life Debt.

These characters and this entire Potterverse are the property of the incomparable JKR.

His Draught of Delicate Poison

Chapter 29

Thou are not lovelier than lilacs, – no,

Nor honeysuckle; thou are not more fair

Than small white single poppies, – I can bear

Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though

From left to right, not knowing where to go,

I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there

Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear

So has it been with mist, – with moonlight so.

Like him who day by day unto his draught

Of delicate poison adds him one drop more

Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,

Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed

Each hour more deeply than the hour before,

I drink – and live – what has destroyed some men.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Hermione sat before the mirror at the dressing table in the bride's changing room, staring at her own reflection in incredulity. The woman looking back at her seemed like a stranger in all of her wedding finery. At the request of the bridegroom, her hair was down, a profusion of dusky curls framing her face and cascading down her back. Nestled amongst the curls at the top of her head was her wedding wreath, an elegant combination of white silk flowers twining through a tiara studded with crystals and seed pearls. About her throat rested the pearl necklace Severus had presented her with the night before, as a wedding gift.

"It perfectly matches the bracelet Sophronia gave to me!" she had exclaimed, sweeping her hair to one side to permit him to fasten the strand about her throat.

"Does it?" he had murmured noncommittally. "How fortunate."

After nearly a month of close daily contact with him, Hermione was becoming quite adept at reading his tones of voice.

Hermione had turned to face him. "You bought the bracelet?" she asked. "Why didn't you give it to me?"

He dipped his head and kissed her, his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth with such sensual promise that she trembled in his embrace as he trailed scorching kisses from her lips to her ear. "I could not trust myself to be alone with you and speak with you until I was free to show you my feelings," he murmured. "Yet I longed to see you wear my gift to you, even if you did not know I saw it – and you – as belonging to me."

She flushed, remembering his words. In a very short time, she would be alone with him in their room at the Estuary – the room he had refused to allow her to see when she was there, insisting that it was not yet finished and that it had to be perfect before she would be allowed to see it. Tonight, there would be no interruptions, nothing to stop him from finishing what they had begun, over and over again in the last three weeks ...

Sophronia came up to her, leaning down to put her face beside Hermione's as they both looked into the mirror. "You make such a charming bride," she said. "Are you all right?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "I'm a little nervous, but otherwise, I'm fine."

Sophronia straightened, smoothing her hands over the shoulders of the gown Hermione wore. "The fabric is holding up beautifully to the colour change," she said.

Hermione stood, moving to stand upon the dais in the middle of the floor, and twirled before the bank of mirrors surrounding her from every angle. "It did turn out well, didn't it?" she said, stopping to rub the fabric between her fingers.

---

It had been Severus' idea. On the last night of her family's visit to the Estuary, she and Severus had been meandering about the grounds, arms about one another, alternately discussing their wedding plans and idly speculating about life after marriage. Pausing beneath a spreading oak tree, Severus had held her pinned to the bark with insistent hands at her hips as he had tantalised her with his kisses. Raising his face from hers, he had asked, "Do you have a clear idea of the type of wedding robes you prefer?"

"Did you have a suggestion about it?" she had inquired as she surreptitiously untucked his linen shirt from his trousers and had begun to run her hands up his bare back, adoring the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers.

Cupping her chin in the palm of his hand, he had said, "What would you think of the idea of being married in the faerie silk gown, if the colour of the fabric can be altered?"

She had looked up into his face with shining eyes. "That's brilliant!" she had breathed, pulling his head down so she could brush her lips across his. "You're such a romantic, Severus."

His deep chuckle had rippled through her body as fire will lick along a line of gunpowder. "Yes, but a wife cannot be compelled to testify against her husband, so my secret is safe with you."

---

Carol Granger appeared in the mirror behind her daughter, her smile misty. "I'm so glad we decided to have the dress dyed professionally," she said. "I can scarcely believe that it used to be that dark coral colour before."

Hermione stepped down from the dais and went to put her arms about her mother. "Well, it wasn't dyed, Mum," she said, her voice laced with affection and amusement. "It was charmed a different colour. But I agree with you – Madam Malkin did a much better job of it than I could have done."

The door from the next room opened and the Snape sisters entered, each dressed in their wedding finery. Skye, Shadow, and Stormy would stand with Hermione as her attendants as she made her vows to their brother. The two older girls were dressed in gowns of the very palest coral satin, carrying bouquets of sweetheart roses tinted to the exact same shade. Stormy's dress was white, with satin ribbons at the hem and the waist in the icy coral tint of her sisters' dresses. She carried a basket of fragrant rose petals of coral and white, charmed with an Ever-Fresh Spell. Each of the girls wore wreaths in their blond hair.

"Hermione!" Stormy squealed, launching herself at her soon-to-be sister. "You're the prettiest bride ever!"

Hermione smiled and gave Stormy a brief hug. "And you're the prettiest flower girl ever," she responded. "And your sisters are the most beautiful bridesmaids I have ever seen." She went forward to touch her cheek briefly to those of the older girls, being careful not to smear their makeup. "You'll be brides before we know it," she murmured to each of them in turn. She added, too softly for Stormy or the mothers to hear, "But Fleur would have been a better bride to go with you, colouring-wise."

Shadow choked back a laugh, but Skye responded quite seriously, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's back. "Oh, no! We blonds would have all appeared quite insipid together. You, on the other hand, with your dark hair and dark eyes, are a lovely contrast to our colouring. You will stand out, just as you should, on your wedding day."

---

The announcement of Fleur's and Percy's wedding had been published in the Daily Prophet one week after the Snape engagement party had been held at the Estuary. The Delacours had apparently been able to manage a fairly elaborate wedding on short notice; Fleur had been married from the Delacour estate, outside Paris, and she and Percy had been reported to be honeymooning in Italy. Molly and Arthur had received such short notice that they scarcely had time to pack a bag and grab a Portkey in time to attend the ceremony. Ginny had reported the details of Molly's indignation to Hermione and the Snape girls over ice cream sundaes at Fortescue's during an afternoon of wedding shopping in Diagon Alley.

"Dad wouldn't let Mum tell Percy what she really thought," Ginny had confided, "and Mum nearly burst a blood vessel. Dad said that Percy is a grown man and able to make his own decisions, but Mum thought she should try to talk some sense into him. 'Why would any man in his right mind want to marry a woman who has burned through relationships with two other men in less than one year?' she asked him. 'And one of them his own brother!'"

Shadow had snorted. "Fleur wanted to get Percy all wrapped up before he could think about it too much."

Skye had shaken her head. "Bill says that Percy has no clue what kind of person Fleur really is because he hasn't been around her long enough to see her lose her temper."

"Well, he may not have understood a thing she said, but he certainly heard her final words with Severus," Hermione had told them, pausing with a spoonful of chocolate ice cream half-way to her lips. "Sirius and Sophronia were down in the kitchen, and they heard everything she said. Percy was just in the next room."

Shadow had added, "Ron told me that Percy was probably an easy target because he didn't have a back-up plan. Percy was so sure that Hermione would jump at the chance to marry him, he had no notion of what he would do if she told him 'no.'"

"And I told him 'no' loads of times," Hermione had said sourly. "He just wouldn't listen to me." She had frowned at her empty sundae dish. "But how did he know about my engagement to Severus? He left the country before our engagement party."

Skye had giggled. "I heard Mum say that Sirius was the one who filled Percy in on what was going on between you and Severus. She and Sirius packed Fleur and Percy into a taxi before they left your parents' house that night, and Sirius told them both that you and Severus had left in a limousine and that he would be very surprised if you didn't arrive back at Grimmauld Place 'in a state of disarray and very, very engaged.'"

All the girls had giggled at that. Hermione had blushed and smirked before saying, "That's about right."

---

A knock fell upon the door and Sophronia went to open it, careful to shield view of the room with her body.

"Let us in!" Tonks said and slipped past Sophronia into the room, closely followed by Luna, Pansy, and Ginny.

"Hermione, you look beautiful," Ginny breathed, stopping short just inside the door.

"Thanks, Gin," the bride answered with a sudden nostalgic twinge. "We used to talk about this a lot, didn't we?"

Ginny nodded, coming forward to give Hermione a careful hug. Luna watched them with clinical interest. "You talked about Hermione marrying Professor Snape?" she asked.

Pansy snorted so hard that every eye in the room fell upon her. "Sorry," she muttered, touching a handkerchief to her face. "A wee bit of dust up my nose."

Tonks rolled her eyes and said, "If Hermione had sat up late nights at the Burrow on the hols planning her wedding to Professor Snape, we would have had her clapped up in St. Mungo's."

Hermione smiled widely, turning to hug Tonks. "I didn't start planning my wedding to Professor Snape until last year around this time – and I wasn't talking to anyone about it, then." Pulling away, she surveyed her friend critically. "You're glowing, Tonks. Have you taken a pregnancy scan?"

Tonks flushed scarlet, protesting, then followed Hermione's teasing glance to a blushing Sophronia.

"Sophie!" Tonks exclaimed, walking to the older witch with outstretched hands. "So soon?"

Sophronia nodded, taking Tonks' hands in her own. "We're not youngsters, you know," she said softly. "We want to have a baby or two while it's still feasible."

"How far along?" Tonks whispered, for Sophronia's ear alone.

"About three weeks," Sophronia answered, speaking softly as well. "Siri says I caught the first time we made love."

Tonks gurgled a laugh and hugged Sophronia. "Maybe I had better take a scan," she said.

---

The day after the engagement party at the Estuary, on a lovely Sunday afternoon, Tonks and Lupin had been married. The Blacks' new home had not been large enough to hold the engagement ball there, but it had certainly been large enough to host a small wedding. The bride and groom had stood before Professor Dumbledore in the Black's sitting room with Sophronia and Sirius serving as the matron of honour and best man. Hermione had persuaded Severus to attend with her, though he had expressed doubt that Lupin would care to have him present at his wedding.

"Lupin all but told me to get stuffed in our last conversation," he grumbled.

Hermione studied him through narrowed eyes. "What were you discussing?"

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched. "I don't recall."

Hermione rose from her place beside him on the loveseat in the main library, tossing her copy of Sense and Sensibility onto the coffee table. "If you aren't going to be honest with me, I don't see any point in discussing it," she said.

Severus reached up rather lazily and snagged her by the back pocket of her denims, giving a pull which toppled her back into his lap. "I asked him what his intentions were towards you, and he told me he'd see me in hell before he'd discuss his relationship with you. Satisfied?"

Lacing her fingers in his hair, she replied, "Not nearly," before kissing him quite thoroughly.

Breaking the kiss, Severus nuzzled across her cheek before demanding, "What was it he didn't want to tell me? Did he have you?"

Hermione pulled back from him so she could look into his eyes. "What do you mean, 'did he have me?'"

An ugly glower crossed his face. "It's a simple enough question. I never saw him when he didn't have his filthy paws all over you. Did he have you, Hermione?"

"No, Severus. I never had sex with Remus."

His hand closed on the hair at the nape of her neck. "Who, then?"

Hermione struggled, but he held her securely. "Let me go, Severus."

He glared at her for a moment, then released his hold upon her. She shifted out of his lap and moved from the loveseat, sitting down in an armchair to his right.

"Are you sure you want to have this conversation?" she asked calmly.

Severus gripped the arm of the loveseat tightly and spoke through gritted teeth. "Why would I not wish to have a conversation about your previous sexual partners?"

"Because any question you ask me, I will in turn ask you."

He sneered at her. "Do you think that it is reasonable to compare nineteen years of life with thirty-eight years of life?"

Hermione crossed her arms stubbornly. "Yes."

Severus rose jerkily from the loveseat and began to pace. "That's ludicrous."

She shrugged. "You started it."

He stopped and turned on her. "All right, we'll make it a simple yes or no question," he snarled. "Are you a virgin?"

Hermione shot back, "Are you?"

"No."

She hesitated, balked by his blunt answer. "Define virgin."

"Hermione," he warned, stalking to stand over her, his fists clenched by his sides, "answer me."

"Only if I get to ask the next question."

He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned until his nose was inches from hers. "Tell me."

"I have never had sex before," she told him, infuriated. "So what?"

He stood and turned from her, but not quickly enough to hide the relief in his expression. "You're acting like a child," he said dismissively.

"You're acting like a jealous git!" she responded, standing and turning to flounce out of the room.

He pursued her, his long strides catching her at the door, which he slammed closed before she could open it properly. He put his other arm on the opposite side of her body, trapping her against the door. "I have the right to be jealous," he said, his head bent so that his words stirred the hair next to her ear. "I am to be your husband. I do not like to think of others touching what is mine."

"Do you think I like thinking about the others who have touched what is mine?" she demanded furiously, ramming him with her shoulder and catching him off-guard, so that he staggered back, and she was able to escape him. She flung to the other side of the room, agitated. "Why did you have to start this? To whom have you made love, Severus? To people I know? To Fleur?"

He began to approach her cautiously. "No, Hermione. I was never intimate with Fleur."

"I saw you with her at Malfoy Manor, Severus! She was virtually naked – she kissed you and said she woke up and you were gone! What were you doing with a bloody naked Veela in your bed if you were not being intimate with her?"

An enigmatic look crept into his face as he watched her closely. Is she jealous? he thought. Of me? Fleur was jealous, but hers was merely a proprietary jealousy – Hermione is patently emotionally distraught.

Hermione glared at him as he stood observing her. "Don't just stand there! Answer me!"

Dear Merlin, she is jealous! he thought, and a smile of pure pleasure at the notion of being thus wanted spread over his face.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" she cried.

"You're jealous over me," he said, incapable of keeping the satisfaction from his voice. "It never occurred to me that you would feel that way – about me."

"Of course I am jealous, Severus, and don't try to change the subject! You slept with her! I know you did!"

"No, I did not. What she was doing was trying to preclude all potential rivals by playing on my humanity and my honour – and if the truth be told, you drove her into my bedroom because she was irrationally jealous of you. What I was doing was trying to get her out of my bedroom – and to get YOU out of my head. I was successful with the former and happily, a failure in the latter."

Now, Hermione was crying tears of rage. She hated to cry when she was angry; it made her feel weak. When Severus tried to take her in his arms, she repulsed him. "I can't believe you're trying to blame me for what she did!"

"And I can't believe you would hold me responsible for her impropriety," he snapped.

For a moment, the only sound was of Hermione's angry sobs. She glared at him, red-faced and tear-drenched, struggling to regain control. He watched her, warily. At last, she spoke again with a modicum of self-command, her teeth gritted. "Well if not her, then who?

He heaved a sigh. "I will tell you, but only if you come and sit down," he answered reasonably.

Hermione turned her face away from him, staring unseeing out the library window into the sunny grounds. Severus poured a goblet of water from the carafe on the coffee table and placed it beside the armchair.

"Come," he said gently, sitting down again on the loveseat.

Hermione returned and seated herself in the armchair, accepting the handkerchief he offered her. Whilst she mopped her face and then drank some of the water, Severus spoke again.

"What would you like to know?"

"When did you last have a relationship?"

One eyebrow rose. "I won't enrage you by asking for a definition of 'relationship,'" he said with some self-mockery. "My encounters have been more in the nature of one-night-stands – you are, perhaps, familiar with the term?"

Hermione nodded. "Do I know any of your partners?"

Severus shook his head. "I seriously doubt it."

"When was the last one?"

"Two years ago, give or take. One night, no complications."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Do you mean prostitutes?"

"Some of them were. This lady was not."

"Where did you meet her?"

Severus paused. "Hermione, this is embarrassing to me. I am not even sure it is a productive conversation. You do not need to know these details. All you need to know is that though I may have had sex before, I have never made love." He moved to take her hand, and she permitted it. "You will be my first, as I will be yours."

"You opened this can of worms, Severus," she replied steadily. "I was willing to let it rest – I thought you might have shared things with me once we were more comfortable together – but you brought it up, and now I want to know."

He held her hand, gently stroking it. "There are clubs where one can go in search of company," he said. "I met the lady at such a club."

"The Muggles call them 'meat markets,'" Hermione told him, feeling calmed by his gentle touch.

He smiled wryly. "It is an appropriate term," he agreed.

"Did you not wish to see the lady again?"

"No. My position at the school and with the Dark Lord was precarious – I could not afford any sort of entanglement."

"Well, if you had not had to worry about that, would you have wanted to see her again?" she persisted, trying to fathom his reasoning.

"No. It was a one-time thing; we both understood that."

"What was her name?"

"I don't remember."

"Severus!"

"Would you prefer I made one up for you?"

Hermione shook her head wordlessly, trying to imagine what it would be like to be driven to seek out strangers for anonymous coupling to assuage one's loneliness. "Have you not had any relationships?"

"Not since my early twenties," he told her, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss there. "Not until now."

She moved from her chair back into his arms, permitting him to cradle her in his lap. "Why did we fight?"

He laughed softly. "They are called lovers' quarrels. When emotions are running high, rows are easily begun and easily resolved."

She wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed her cheek to his. "There was nothing easy about getting so upset and shouting and crying," she objected. "I don't want to do it again."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," he said with mock solemnity.

---

Shadow and Skye were the first to walk, with terrific decorum, down the aisle between the rows and rows of those who had come to witness Hermione and Severus' binding. Awaiting them at the end of the aisle was their brother and each of their fiancés, standing stalwartly, in his hour of need, with the man who would one day be their brother, as well. Bill and Ron were stricken with the vision of their women walking toward them in satin and lace, but the groom spared little more than a tiny smile for each of his sisters. His eyes were riveted upon the doorway through which his bride would come; he did not wish to miss a thing.

Next came Stormy with her basket of rose petals, carrying herself with an assurance learned at her mother's knee. She walked slowly through the crowd, her hand artfully scattering rose petals in her wake, her eyes demurely cast to watch the petals as they fell from her fingers. When she reached the front of the room, where stood her brother and sisters, she beamed at them with a look of such pride at having successfully accomplished her first public duty that the girls smiled back at her. Severus, however, appeared entirely spellbound, and soon every eye in the room had turned to watch the bride.

Hermione came into the room full of her friends and the people who had known Severus' family for generations, with her heart swelling to such volume that she felt as if it would burst from her chest. Her mother and father flanked her, each of them tenderly holding to her upper arms. They were dressed in wizarding robes; Carol's were the echo of the bridesmaids' dresses, a slightly darker version of the pastel coral; Mike wore formal black, as was traditional for the father of the bride. As they walked with their daughter, they looked at her face, flushed with a rapt joy that was almost painful to witness.

Hermione pushed aside the fluttering of nervousness at being the cynosure of so many eyes. From across the room, Severus' attention was fixed upon her, and the look upon his face drew her to him as the moth is drawn irrevocably to the flame, heedless of the consequences. The dignified pace which had been maintained so successfully by the Snape girls was beyond the ability of the eager bride. The girl in the faerie silk gown, adorned with a wedding wreath, her feet bare as she trod upon the rose petals laid down for her, did not tarry on the path to her bridegroom.

Severus stood tall, his back straight, his shoulders level, adorned in the simple white silk shirt and white trousers he had chosen to wear on this day, his feet also bare upon the soft white cloth covering the flagged stones of the wedding hall. He and Hermione had chosen a traditional binding ceremony; the cord which would be used lay upon the great stone table behind Dumbledore, who stood upon the dais behind Severus.

As he looked at Hermione, luminous in her joy, Severus fought to restrain his impulse to crow aloud in exultation that she would presently and unalterably become his before all these witnesses. Even so, his consciousness retained an echo of his inherent melancholy. The moment was frangible; having come this far, he desperately wished to rush to the conclusion of the ritual. There was a thought buried in the substratum of his consciousness screaming to him that it was a dream, that he would waken and once again be alone – he did not believe that he could bear for that to be so.

Hermione all but flew to him, moving with such haste through the crowd that the onlookers smiled to see her impatience. Her parents, with a shared smile over her head, acknowledged that she was too nervous to walk in a stately way for the sake of decorum; they permitted her to set the pace without attempting to slow her progress.

When Dumbledore asked the question, the Grangers responded in one voice that Hermione was given in marriage with the blessing of her family, then they fell back to take seats beside Sophronia and Sirius. Sophronia took Carol's hand and passed to her a fine lawn handkerchief for the tears standing in her eyes, ready to fall.

Dumbledore did not ramble on regarding the institution of marriage, as he was wont to do at weddings. In respect for the dangerous irritability of his Potions master, Dumbledore spoke simply and directly to Severus and Hermione, so that the friends and family of the couple felt as if they had stumbled into a private conversation.

"Hermione, Severus, please join hands and listen to that which I am about to say.

"Above you are the stars, below you are the stones; as time passes, remember: Like a stone, your love should be solid; like a star, your love should be constant. Let the powers of the mind and of the intellect guide you in your marriage; let the strength of your wills bind you together; let the power of love and desire make you happy; and the strength of your dedication make you inseparable. Be close, but not too close. Possess one another, yet be understanding. Have patience with one another, for storms will come, though they will pass again. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Have no fear and let not the ways of the world give you unease, for your love for one another is with you always."

Dumbledore focussed then on Severus, placing his hands upon the younger man's shoulders as he spoke.

"Severus, I have not the right to bind you to Hermione. Only you have that right. If it be your wish, say so at this time and place your ring in her hand."

Severus glanced at Bill, who placed the surprisingly plain ring in Severus' hand. Dumbledore released Severus, who then placed the flat platinum band, shot around the center with a strip of yellow gold, into Hermione's small hand.

"It is my wish," he said, the conviction in the deeply spoken words carrying clearly to every corner of the room.

Dumbledore said, "Hermione, if it is your wish for Severus to be bound to you, place the ring on his finger."

Devoutly glad that they had practiced this all one rainy afternoon in the back sitting room of the Grangers' home, whilst Mike and Carol looked on with tolerant affection, Hermione slipped the wedding ring Severus had chosen onto the third finger of his left hand.

"Hermione," Dumbledore continued, turning now to take her free hand in his own, "I have not the right to bind you to Severus. Only you have that right. If it be your wish, say so at this time and place your ring in his hand."

Dumbledore released her and Hermione looked over to Skye, who placed the bejewelled gold band in Hermione's hand; she passed it to Severus with a tremulous smile.

"It is my wish," she said, her voice sounding very young and somewhat quavering.

Dumbledore said, "Severus, if it is your wish for Hermione to be bound to you, place the ring on her finger."

Severus looked deeply into Hermione's eyes, his fingers sure as he slipped the band, set with rubies and diamonds, onto her finger. As if they were alone in the great room, he lifted her hand then to his lips and kissed the ring.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, his ancient voice betraying some small degree of the emotion he felt, "please repeat after me."

Severus took both of Hermione's hands, his eyes softening with such tenderness that she felt scarcely able to breathe. She had thought to feel awkward in the presence of all these people, but she was finding it difficult to remember that they were even present.

Severus began to speak, and the rich liquid tones to which Hermione had become accustomed held the onlookers astounded, for they had never heard such tender accents from the fierce-eyed Potions master, and undoubtedly would never do so again. "I, Severus Stephan, in the name of the Spirit that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take you, Hermione, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one, to desire you and be desired by you, to possess you, and be possessed by you, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in the purity of my love for you. I promise to love you wholly and completely, without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change you in any way. I shall respect you, your beliefs, your people, and your ways as I respect myself."

"Hermione," Dumbledore said, his voice strengthening again, "please repeat after me."

Hermione scarcely heard Dumbledore, so enrapt was she in Severus' fathomless black eyes, but she was fully ready to speak her own vows.

"I, Hermione Jane," she said, and her voice steadied and became more sure as she gazed into her beloved's eyes and repeated to him the same vows he had made to her.

Dumbledore picked up the binding cord from the stone table at his back and laid the silken rope over their bound hands, weaving the cord about their wrists and tying it in a knot as he spoke. "With this binding, I tie you, heart to heart, together, as one. With this, know you are joined in sacred union; the knots of this binding are not formed by this cord, but instead by your vows. May your lives ever be joined together in love.

"Severus and Hermione, before this company you have taken the vows and performed the rites that unite your lives. I therefore pronounce you as husband and wife." The old man removed the binding cord from their hands and smiled at them, his blue eyes twinkling. "You may kiss one another before these witnesses as testament to your binding."

Severus raised his hands and framed Hermione's face; the two of them stood, now husband and wife, and looked with unmitigated wonder into each other's faces. At last, he lowered his face and gathered her to him, kissing her tenderly and possessively for all to see. As he released her, he whispered in her ear, "Mine."

Bill and Skye stepped forward then and walked a few feet back down the aisle from Severus and Hermione, where they placed upon the ground an ancient broom.

"Jump the broom!" Dumbledore said, his voice ringing gleefully through the room.

"Jump the broom!" the onlookers said, taking up the chant. "Jump the broom!"

Grinning at one another like children, Severus and Hermione joined hands, took a running start, and leapt over the broom, amidst the cheers and clapping of the English wizarding world.

________________________________________

Neville and Pansy were seated at a table at the Snape/Granger reception, chatting with Draco and Luna about their honeymoon. Draco had been unable to take Luna away for a wedding trip, due to business matters following the death of his father, but he had promised to take her away the next summer, after she finished at Hogwarts.

"I've heard Professor Snape isn't taking Hermione on a wedding trip," Neville said. "They're just going to go to his country house."

"I think they're more interested in each other than in sightseeing," Luna said, watching the bride and groom as they danced together.

"I saw him smile," Neville said, sounding somewhat alarmed.

Draco and Pansy laughed. "He smiles, silly," Pansy told her husband.

"I never saw him smile before he loved Hermione," Luna said.

"Well, he never smiled except amongst the Slytherins at school," Draco said fairly. "But he smiled plenty when he beat my dad at chess."

"And if he took lots of points from Gryffindor," Neville muttered. "But that was more like a shark baring his teeth at you."

________________________________________

Hermione waltzed with her husband, who could not cease to finger the fabric of the faerie silk dress when he was in her vicinity. She smiled at him, watching his eyes darken with promise as he looked into her face. "I remember how you drew tiny circles on my back with your finger when we danced at the Malfoy Ball," she said.

"Faerie silk gowns should be illegal. They lure the unsuspecting male into impropriety entirely against his better judgement," her spouse responded.

"You weren't improper, Severus."

"I was betrothed to another woman – I ought not to have touched you in that way."

Hermione pressed her lips together, determined not to retort, and Severus pulled her closer to him, until she came to rest with her cheek upon his chest. She considered Fleur for a moment. She had no ill feelings towards the Frenchwoman. Hermione had the man she wanted, and she honestly thought that both Fleur and Percy would be happier together than they would have been with the partners they had first chosen for themselves.

Mr. and Mrs. Percy Weasley had apparently returned to London from their honeymoon, for their pictures had appeared in the Daily Prophet in attendance at social functions. Now that Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had successfully settled the marital plans of each of the Order's young people, headquarters and Phoenix House had been closed up, the furniture shrouded in Holland covers. Relieved of the necessity, Hermione and Severus had no longer attended the Ministry events, which continued unabated into the autumn days of September. Instead, they had spent their free time in the usual pursuits of betrothed pairs; they made plans for their wedding, they made plans for their removal to Hogwarts after their honeymoon, and they tantalised one another to distraction with their kisses and caresses.

One afternoon they had been packing books in Hermione's bedroom, deciding which ones to send to the Estuary, and which she would need in their quarters at Hogwarts, when Carol had called up to them. "When are you going to open these wedding gifts, Hermione? You'll get behind with your thank-you notes if you don't get busy!"

Hermione had rolled her eyes at Severus. "Mums," she muttered.

He had raised an eyebrow at her. "Be thankful you still have your mum to nag you," he said. "I will finish this packing; you go down and attend to business."

Hermione had run down the stairs and settled on the sofa in the front sitting room, dutifully opening the wedding gifts which had been delivered to the house. Her parents had become quite used to the owls and had even learned to keep a tray of owl treats handy, after a nasty pecking incident. There were four new packages, and Hermione was unwrapping one of them as Severus strolled into the room. She put the pretty silver paper to one side and opened the gift box, bearing the gold foil seal of a gift shop in Diagon Alley. She lifted out the tissue paper, then put both hands into the box, bringing them out with the square, heavy object within.

Severus froze in the doorway when he saw Hermione with the large, ornate doorknob in her hands. It was encased in a solid, clear material, forever suspended in space. His mind began to mull through what he would say to the inevitable questions to come.

"How bizarre," he said. "Whom must we thank for this ... gesture?"

Hermione, with a puzzled frown on her face, placed the object on the coffee table and rummaged about in the box until she emerged with a small white envelope. Opening the gilt-edged parchment, she withdrew a calling card, also edged in gilt, reading Mrs. Percy Ignatius Weasley.

"It's from Fleur and Percy!" she said, mystified.

"Is it?" Severus said, endeavouring to sound surprised. "How quaint."

Turning the card over in her hands, Hermione read aloud the words inscribed there in Fleur's handwriting. "May the communicating door always be open, Percy and Fleur Weasley. I suppose she meant 'door of communication,'" Hermione added thoughtfully, hefting the object again. "I think it is meant to be a paperweight."

Severus seated himself beside her on the couch and withdrew his wand, murmuring a string of spells over the doorknob.

Hermione watched him patiently until he was finished. "What are you looking for?"

Severus gave her a sardonic look. "Curses, of course – what else?"

"Percy wouldn't send us a curse!"

One eyebrow rose. "Would you care to make the same assurances on Fleur's behalf?"

Hermione smiled ruefully before putting the doorknob back in its box and leaning invitingly into his arms. "Fleur is quite bereft, you know," she said as she curled against him, pressing her lips to the pulse in his throat.

Severus enfolded her, closing his eyes and suppressing the groan which would no doubt alarm the Grangers, who were busy watching the telly in the next room. "Bereft how?" he managed.

"She lost you, silly."

Severus tilted Hermione's chin and looked directly into her eyes. "Fleur was to be my partner in a traditional pure-blood arranged marriage, Hermione. She never had me in any sense." He smirked at his beloved's look of extreme self-satisfaction. "Do you particularly like this ... ornament?"

Hermione shrugged. "I have the feeling that she is mocking me, in some fashion, but I can't work out how."

Severus did not enlighten her. "I will find a place for it, shall I?"

Hermione willingly agreed, and he bore the box away with him; she did not see it again.

________________________________________

Hermione opened her eyes as the dance ended and her gaze fell upon a young man standing at the side of the room, watching her with a smile on his face. "Look, Severus!" she said, returning the smile. "It's Healer Howser!"

Severus followed her line of sight and a faint sneer touched his face, even as he placed a possessive hand at her waist. "So it is," he agreed, beginning to walk with her toward the Healer.

"I wonder why he has come?"

"I invited him," Severus said.

The couple reached the Healer, who shook their hands and congratulated them with great sincerity, assuring them that he had been convinced of their love from the time of Severus' hospital stay. Severus allowed Hermione to conduct the conversation, his black gaze travelling through the crowd.

"I was surprised to receive the invitation, considering the tone of my last conversation with Professor Snape," Howser commented wryly to Hermione.

Severus returned his attention to his companions. "Never let it be said that Slytherins are poor winners, Howser," Severus said repressively. "A man can afford to be generous on his wedding day." His gaze sought and found Varen Vector on the opposite side of the room, in laughing conversation with her teaching colleagues from Hogwarts. Varen looked much better now than she had at the Longbottoms' wedding. She had taken Lucius' death as a sad blow, but her naturally ebullient spirits were reasserting themselves, now. Varen glanced up and saw Severus; her wave and warm smile brought a quirk to his lip.

"What was the tone of your last conversation with Professor Snape, Douglas?" Hermione asked, pressing Severus' arm to gain his attention.

"The tone was reassuring," Severus said smoothly, before Healer Howser could answer. "Douglas was concerned, and I assured him that all was well."

Hermione watched Severus' face critically. "I'm getting much better at reading him," she confided to the Healer, "but I still cannot always tell when he's teasing me."

Howser smiled, though he wisely did not comment.

Severus noted with satisfaction that Varen was headed in their direction; he quickly moved his eyes to Hermione and Douglas and listened to their light-hearted banter.

"Hermione!" Varen said, joining them. "I've never seen Severus so happy – I think he smiled a moment ago and frightened Neville Longbottom. You'll have to tell me your secret for bewitching an irascible wizard." Though the playful words were directed to Hermione and Severus, Varen's speculative eye was on the Healer.

Hermione, noting the direction of Vector's gaze, said, "First of all, you have to keep them alive – and for that, you need a Healer of incomparable skill. Varen, this is Douglas Howser, the Healer who cared for Severus at St. Mungo's last month." She smiled over at Douglas adding, "This is Professor Varen Vector, an Arithmancer of incalculable expertise."

Douglas smiled and took the proffered hand. "You're ever so much lovelier than the Arithmancy master I had at school," he said.

A bubble of laughter rose from Varen's lips. "You mean like old Professor Wrightsum?"

An answering smile touched Howser's face. "I mean exactly like old Professor Wrightsum!"

Severus glanced purposefully across the room and caught the eye of the bandmaster as Varen and Douglas began to compare school memories. Soon, the dancers on the floor came to a halt as another song ended; almost immediately, the rock and roll medley began.

Varen wheeled to Hermione with a gleam of anticipation. "May I borrow your husband for this number?"

"I'm sorry, Varen," Severus told her, pre-empting Hermione's answer. "I'm promised to Hermione for this dance." He took Hermione's hand, leading her onto the dance floor and leaving the new acquaintances to their own devices; his work there was done. As he twirled Hermione once and she passed smoothly beneath his arm he said, "Where did you come up with that sort of introduction?"

Hermione gave him a smirk which could have come from his own repertoire. "I, Professor, am a quick study," she said.

Severus did not try to prevent the single, "Hah," of laughter which escaped him, and he surreptitiously squeezed her tightly before spinning her from him in the dance.

________________________________________

Some time later, Hermione was standing between her parents, chatting with them and watching as Severus completed the last of his duty dances, gently steering a beaming Stormy about the dance floor. Moments later, after delivering Stormy back to Sophronia and Sirius, Severus joined the Grangers, slipping an arm about his wife.

"It's nearly nine o'clock," he murmured to her.

Carol glanced at him. "Are you leaving?"

Severus nodded. "We'll have one more dance, then she will toss her posy, and we will be gone."

Mike extended his hand, which Severus took in a firm, reassuring grip. "She will come to no harm, Mike. I would give my life to keep her safe."

Hermione kissed her parents good-bye, then she and Severus strolled a few paces away, arm-in-arm.

"Have you enjoyed your wedding day, Mrs. Snape?" Severus asked her, reaching out to lift one of her curls from her face and to brush it back.

Hermione nodded. "More than I ever thought I would. I had always thought spending so much gold on a party was silly, but it really is an opportunity to mark a turning point, isn't it? Our lives are completely changed, from this day forward."

A twisted smile touched Severus' lips. "I hope you find it to be a change for the better."

The shining look which preceded the gentle kiss to his cheek was enough to make him wish to grab her and Disapparate on the spot.

"How many times a day am I to tell you how much I love you?" she asked him, unaware of the danger in which she stood.

"We'll begin with fifty times a day, I think, and re-evaluate on our fiftieth wedding anniversary," he told her, thinking his words were actually rather closer to the truth than he was willing to admit.

There was a stir in the vicinity of the orchestra, and Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy stepping up to smile at the assembled wedding guests.

"At the request of the groom, I am asked to reprise a little talk I gave at a fairly recent party. This next song was a special one for the bride and groom, as well as for a few other couples, so let's see if we can continue our run of good luck in regards to couples coming together for this dance. Now ladies," Draco continued, "each of you knows a wizard like this. Find the one you would call a Smooth Operator, and ask him to dance."

A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. The beginning strains of the song began and the witches took that cue to seek out their partners.

Hermione gazed into Severus' eyes, her heart so full of emotion that she felt her body was not large enough to encompass it all. Without looking away from him, she swept into a full curtsey, as she had done in the Malfoy ballroom. As he had done there, Severus took her hand and constrained her to rise, then took her into his arms and entered into the dance.

"Will history repeat itself?" she murmured to him.

"Not in the least," he answered, permitting himself to look at her as he had not done when first they had danced to this song, his heated gaze resting for an instant upon the extremely low neckline of her gown. "This time, I will do as I only wished to do then. When the song is at an end, I will take you in my arms and whisk you away to a private place, where I may partake of your loveliness in every way you can imagine – as well as in some ways you have not yet learned."

Hermione was all too aware of the blush that began in her cheeks and travelled to her hairline and down into her throat – just as she was aware of the man who watched the flush in her skin with half-lidded eyes whilst his fingers, resting correctly upon her waist, circled endlessly over the faerie silk gown.

________________________________________

Douglas Howser was watching the bride and groom on the dance floor, smiling to himself, when he felt a hand upon his arm.

"Won't you dance with me, Healer?" Varen Vector said, smiling prettily.

"I would be honoured, Professor," he responded, charmed by the funny, self-deprecating witch.

________________________________________

Sophronia did not give any of his former flames a chance to approach Sirius for the ladies' choice; she claimed him with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"My God, but you're beautiful," Sirius told his wife as she melted into his arms. "I should have given you a wedding like this."

Sophronia placed a finger over his lips. "I'm very happy with the wedding I had, Siri. I've never been happier, in all my life." Leaning up to press her lips to his ear, she reminded him, "We're going to have a baby."

He tightened his arms around her. "I love you, Sophie."

________________________________________

Pansy Longbottom took her husband's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

"Do you still think you're not smooth?" she asked him as she slid both arms around his neck.

Neville smiled at her in a way which would have shocked his closest friends, so manly and self-assured did he seem. "I must be, love – I convinced you to marry me, didn't I?"

Pansy purred her agreement in his ear.

________________________________________

Tonks Lupin leaned over to smile at her husband as they sat at their table on the side of the dance floor. "Dance with me?" she asked.

Remus stood and tugged her insistently to her feet. "You asked me then, too," he said, pulling her against his body.

"Yes, but I wasn't sure that you cared for me, then," she said, tilting her heart-shaped face up to gaze into his eyes.

"I'll keep showing you until there can be no doubt," he promised with a wolfish grin.

________________________________________

All of the assembled guests cheered when Hermione's posy floated into the outstretched hands of Varen Vector, who was congratulated by the other unengaged women – and by Douglas Howser, who swiftly sought her out again.

"You did that," Hermione accused her husband.

"Nonsense, woman," Severus replied, taking her by the hand. "Will your accusations never cease?"

The bride and groom obligingly ran the gamut of their well-wishers, being showered in multi-coloured, twinkling confetti before reaching the Disapparition point in the foyer of the wedding hall. Without another glance at their family and friends, Severus wrapped Hermione in his arms, and turning them upon the spot, they were gone.

________________________________________

Severus Apparated with such grace, and he held to Hermione with such firm determination, that she did not even stumble when they arrived at their destination. Hermione immediately saw that she was in an unfamiliar space; she glanced first right, then left, noting the elegant appointments of the large room in which they stood, yet still frowning in confusion. She had expected to arrive in Severus' bedroom at the Estuary.

"Where are we?" she asked, beginning to feel the butterflies fluttering in her abdomen.

"Welcome to our bedroom," he said, watching her face for her reaction. "This is the Estuary master suite."

Hermione stepped away from him, taking in the spacious apartment, noting the apparently new carpets, draperies and wall coverings; her eyes settled on the enormous four-poster bed on its dais on the left wall. The duvet and the bed curtains were the colour of flame. The duvet had been folded down and the white sheets were scattered with coral rose petals. Near the foot of the bed, over the fabric of the duvet, the deep coral negligee she had found in his pocket in the limousine was laid out, as if waiting for her to don it. On the opposite side of the bed, black pyjamas and a matching dressing gown awaited Severus.

The sitting area included a low table which held a covered tray, as well as iced wine and glasses.

"Oh, Severus!" she breathed. "It's perfect."

He stepped up behind her, one arm pulling her against him whilst the other hand moved her hair to one side, so that her neck was bare to him. "I am happy to hear you say so," he purred, kissing the back of her neck.

Hermione immediately responded to the touch of his lips upon her flesh, leaning back into his chest, feeling his hands move from her shoulders to stroke down her arms, raising goose bumps over her entire body.

"What about the house-elves?" she asked.

"They will come only if specifically called. We are alone and will have all the privacy we wish," he promised, allowing her to feel his teeth upon her skin and thrilling to her soft cry as he did so. "Tonight, Hermione, there will be no stopping me." He turned her so that she stood facing him, his bride, so very beautiful in his eyes. "I will make you mine."

Hermione nodded, wide-eyed. "I – I know." She swallowed. "I'm a little nervous."

He smiled a genuine smile. "That is because you have been in the middle of a large group of people and you have not adjusted to being alone with me." He drew her into his arms, bending his head to her. "It is also because I am talking about it, instead of doing it." He kissed her, holding back nothing, invading the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue even as he cradled her head in one hand and used the other to pull her flush against his body. In seconds, he had wiped her hesitancy from her mind, and she was sucking at his tongue, twining her hands in his hair, pressing herself urgently into him. He placed his large hand flat on the small of her back and allowed himself for the first time to thrust his hips against her much smaller frame, his arousal butting against her stomach in such a way that they groaned with one voice.

"Our night things are laid out, Hermione, but I want to undress you with my own hands – may I do so?"

Instead of answering him, Hermione turned her back to him, lifting her hair out of the way so that he could unfasten the faerie silk gown. Slowly, with hands that trembled slightly, Severus began to unfasten the dress, pressing kisses to her bared flesh as he proceeded down her back, and she stood compliantly under his unaccustomed ministrations. When he had completed the unfastening, he pushed the dress down to her waist, sliding her arms from it, and over her rounded hips, until the fabric puddled at her feet.

"Step out of it," he murmured, and with reverent hands, he picked up the rare fabric and disposed it carefully over the back of an armchair. When he turned back to Hermione, she was facing him in her undergarments and fighting the urge to cover herself. Knowing he had left her too long without his touch, he put his arms around her again, burying his nose in the strawberry-almond fragrance of her curls. "I have dreamt of you, like this," he whispered before he kissed her again. His hands could not get enough of her skin; he had stroked her back and her stomach beneath her shirts, but now he could clearly see, as well as feel her, and it was swiftly overwhelming his senses.

Here was his prize, which he had dreamt – against his better judgment – of possessing since the night he had first held her body and smelt her scent. Now he could kiss her, taste her, touch her, mark her, take her, and make her his own, over and over again – the sooner the better.

He plundered the inside of her mouth with his tongue, his hands having moved to the front clasp of her bra, which he successfully opened. Immediately, his palms cupped her naked breasts, and he finished the kiss, sucking her lower lip between his teeth and nipping it lightly as he released her mouth. He moved back and looked down at the uncovered swells which he had longed to touch and taste for far too long. Without asking her assent, he picked her up bodily and deposited her amidst the fragrant rose petals upon their bed, burying his face in her throat as his hands teased her, soon to be replaced by his lips and tongue and teeth, until she was insensate with desire.

"Severus," she whimpered, striving to move her hips into contact with some part of his anatomy.

With a growl, he grasped the long petticoat and slid the stretching waistband under her bum and down the line of her legs, uncovering the lacy white knickers and her beautifully smooth limbs. As the petticoat travelled down her legs, Hermione's torso rose from the bed, her unbound breasts bouncing in a way which she would quickly learn could dumbfound her sarcastic, articulate husband to insensibility. She reached for the fabric of the white shirt he wore, tugging at it insistently, if ineffectively.

Abandoning the petticoat at the foot of the bed, he rose to his knees beside her, his eyes dilating at the vision of the nearly-naked woman struggling to rid him of his clothing.

"What do you want, wife?" he asked her, reaching to caress the peaks of her breasts.

"Undress," she said, striving for coherence before surrendering her power of intelligible speech again to his hands upon her heated flesh.

Severus watched Hermione as she arched into his touch, begging to be possessed, finally giving himself permission to unleash his desire for her. Relinquishing her for a moment, he stripped, until he was kneeling beside her entirely unclothed. Her dark eyes, clearly slumberous with desire, drank in the sight of him, and he felt himself swell with further pleasure at the acceptance he read in her face. This wondrous woman did not only respond to his hands and lips and tongue upon her body; she inexplicably desired what she saw when she looked upon his body.

He hooked the elastic in the top of her knickers and stripped them from her, allowing them to fall upon the abandoned petticoat as he drank in the sight of his bride upon their wedding bed, naked for him and wanton in her need.

"Severus – please – love me," she said, reaching her arms to him.

Severus covered her body with his own, gently urging her to part her legs and to allow him to lie between them as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, both of them now desperate for completion. He kissed down the line of her throat, suckling the tender skin and deliberately marking it, free now to do so, as she moved and whimpered beneath him.

Hermione snarled one hand in his hair and tugged until he looked up into her impassioned face. "Don't be afraid of hurting me," she said, deliberately tilting her hips. "We talked about this."

He moaned as she ground against him.

"Make me yours," she urged.

And with great tenderness, followed by echoing cries of fulfilment, he did so.

________________________________________

The bath attached to her crimson and gold dressing room was large enough for entertaining, if one were inclined that way. It was fabulously comfortable for lovers who desired nothing so much as a place to drink champagne, nibble on a tray of cold delicacies, and to cleanse themselves of the evidence of one round of lovemaking, in order to indulge in another.

Utterly lost in one another, Hermione and Severus each washed the other in the warm, scented water, inundated with herbs designed to sooth irritated tissue and to relax muscles strained by unaccustomed activity.

Severus lovingly bathed each cavern and crevasse of Hermione's body, as she had done for him. Then, as she floated by his side in the warmth, he made amends for the inescapable discomfort of her first time by showing her what he could do with his hand between her thighs and his lips upon her breast; she splashed water all over the bathroom floor in her vocal appreciation of his cleverness.

They left the bath and he used one of the crimson towels to dry her thoroughly, rubbing some body parts more attentively than others. When accused of base treachery, he lowered his wife to the plush carpeting in her dressing room and atoned for his perfidy by demonstrating how clever he could be with his mouth, much to the detriment of his scalp, considering how she wound her fingers in his hair in her enthusiasm. When that act was complete, he was overwrought enough to attempt a second, and much more successful, demonstration of how he could move her from within. The entire ordeal required a second bath, after which they subsided into their marital bed and slept, curled into one another's bodies like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle properly united, at last.

________________________________________

Hermione opened her eyes to her first morning as a married woman and looked over at the sleeping countenance of her husband. In sleep, the lines of care upon his face were all but erased, and saw in him for the first time the young man he had once been.

"I love you, Severus Snape," she murmured, and watched as he slept on.

Slipping from their bed, she bent to retrieve the negligee from where it had fallen on the carpeted floor, and she went back into the bathroom, where she washed and then sat at her dressing table to make herself beautiful for her husband.

When he paused in the doorway between the bedroom and the dressing room, she was finished with her toilette. The flame-coloured negligee suited her perfectly, he was pleased to note. She had tamed her hair again, so that it fell in charmingly arranged curls past her shoulders. She was holding the mirror of her vanity set in her hands, admiring the delicate monogram, which had been inscribed in tiny rubies, the large "S" in the middle, flanked by the "H" and the "G."

"Only rubies for my Gryffindor lioness," he said, drawing her gaze to him.

Hermione feasted her eyes upon her beloved as he stood in the doorway in his black pyjamas and dressing gown, his black hair freshly washed and brushed straight back from his forehead.

"These rooms and furnishings are beautiful, Severus," she said, rising to go to him and to wrap her arms about him. "Did you select all these things yourself?"

"No, Hermione – you are beautiful; these are just belongings. I ordered the vanity set for you. I hired a designer to decorate the room, with some instructions regarding colours and style."

"I haven't even looked all through the room yet – I think one of the doors must be for your bath, and I can't imagine what the last one is."

Severus claimed a very thorough kiss before he gratified her curiosity. "Come, and I will show you what the last one is," he offered. Hermione happily laced her fingers with his and followed him through the door at the end of the room.

She stopped just inside the room, staring with unconcealed incredulity at the most exquisite miniature library she had ever seen, perfect in every detail. If she has been asked to design the ideal personal library, this room would have been what she would have imagined. There was a skylight built into the ceiling, providing natural lighting. The walls were covered with towering bookcases. The furnishings consisted of a loveseat, a chaise lounge, an enormous armchair, and two desks pushed together so that the occupants would face one another over their research.

Hermione turned to face Severus. "Did you make this room for us?"

Without speaking, Severus nodded, waiting for her verdict.

"This is Utopia, Severus. If we can induce Nanny to fetch our food here, I don't know why we should ever have to leave."

Moving forward with sudden relief, he jerked her against him and kissed her. "Then it's a good thing Dumbledore has agreed to grant me sabbatical until the winter term," he growled into her hair.

"What?"

Severus lifted her into his arms and settled into the huge armchair with her in his lap. "We don't have to be at Hogwarts until January," he said with great satisfaction.

"Who will take your classes?"

"Dumbledore will. He owes me, believe me."

"Well, good," Hermione said, suddenly vastly interested in the collar of his dressing gown, which she began to trace with one finger. "You can help me search out a good job."

"You know you do not have to work," he said gruffly, looking down at her dark curls.

"But you don't object?" she asked, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.

"I have told you I do not object," he reminded her, aroused by her coquettish behaviour.

"And you don't mind not having babies right away?"

This time he waited until she looked up to answer her. "I will allow you to decide when you wish to begin our family," he said, feeling his heart begin to beat faster; he had never imagined being able to say those words aloud.

She nodded and lowered her eyes again, fidgeting with his dressing gown collar. At last, he said, "What kind of work would interest you?"

She assayed another peek at him from beneath her lashes. "I had thought, perhaps, an apprenticeship ..."

Severus snorted. "I do not object to you working, Hermione, but I will not permit you to live away from me. That is out of the question. And I do not know of a master to whom you could apprentice yourself without being required to live on site."

Her lower lip protruded. "You said I could be a Potions master's apprentice!"

"I said it, and I meant it."

She looked up again, now full of indignation. "Well, Severus, you're the only Potions master to whom I would ever consider apprenticing myself!"

"I am the only Potions master to whom I would permit you to apprentice yourself," he agreed.

"Well, why can't I be your apprentice?" she demanded hotly.

"Because you have not asked me," he responded patiently.

She sat staring at him. "I've been waiting for you to offer it to me!"

"I would no doubt have been obliged to do so if you had not finally broken down and asked me," he said blandly.

She pulled back her hand and he caught her wrist. "I think we should be able to make it through at least twenty-four hours of our honeymoon before you are driven to strike me, don't you?"

"Will you have me as your apprentice?" she asked him.

"In every way you can imagine," he agreed with a devilish quirk of his lips, loosening the belt on the robe of her ensemble and looking at her body in the negligee he had bought for her.

Hermione lifted her hand to his face. "I love you, Severus," she said, suddenly overcome with emotion.

He turned his face into her palm, pressing a kiss to her skin. "May I read something to you?" he asked, reaching for the one unshelved book sitting upon the table beside their chair.

Hermione nodded, settling with her cheek against his shoulder.

"I have always loved this poem, because it references potion-making, even if only in the abstract. I thought of it before we ever left the cabin, and, in time, it became our poem, in my mind."

Hermione listened intently as the iambic pentameter rolled off his tongue, the deep, vibrancy of his tones reaching into her very marrow. When he finished, she said, "You recited a bit of it to me on the night you first kissed me, before you left Grimmauld Place," she said. "'Nor here, nor there, find any refuge from thee.'"

He only nodded, moving her hair back from her face, not trusting his voice to speak. In some ways, the sharing of these words was the baring of his most private thoughts.

Suddenly, she shifted in his lap, straddling his thighs with her knees pressed to either side of his hips on the cushion of the seat. "Have you built up your resistance?" she asked, her tongue darting out to lightly trace the contours of his lower lip. "Can you 'drink unharmed the death of ten?'"

His seeking hand ascertained that she wore no knickers; with a sudden move of his own, he was freed from the confines of his pyjama bottoms and she was guided to engulf him, so that they gasped with one voice, foreheads pressed together.

"I fully mean to drink of your fountain," he promised her, holding her hips in place as he thrust up, "at every opportunity, and in every way." He watched in feral appreciation as she grabbed his shoulders, seeking to anchor herself as he thrust again. "And, my God, Hermione, you may be the death of me," he said, fastening his lips to her throat and suckling there as he continued to move within her, "but if I am destroyed, I am taking you with me."

Her shouted, "Yes," may have been the cry of a woman reaching her violent completion, but as he followed her over that glorious precipice, he chose to hear it as an affirmation – her agreement that their love would not destroy them, but would sustain them – for as long as they both should live.

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