Chapter 2: Melting and Exploding

Christmas wishes for my beta, LariLee, and my Brit-Picker, MagicAlly

I own nothing. Jo owns everything. She makes no objection if I play with her toys, providing I tidy their clothes and put them back where I found them when I'm done. Happy Christmas, Jo!

The Christmas Rose

Chapter 2: Melting and Exploding

Six Weeks Before Christmas

Hermione entered the spare bedroom in Penny Clearwater's flat and sagged into a reclining position on the bed, too tired to bother shrugging out of her robes. It had been five nights since she had walked out on Severus, and she was completely beyond thought or feeling any longer. Her only tolerance now was for the Christmas Rose Potion project. She swallowed food for fuel, slept without moving for eight hours every night, then rose with the sun to shower, dress, and go out to do it again. Penny now was spending the long, fruitless, frustrating days in Simon Lewis' laboratory with the rest of the team working on the project. An extra hand was always useful, an extra wand even more so, for the attempts they made to brew the critically needed hellebore infusion.

If anyone dared to speak to her about anything unrelated to the Christmas Rose Potion, Hermione responded in a querulous tone that bordered on hysteria.

And she could not, she would not, think about Severus.

That familiar plunging feeling, so visceral as to be physically discernable, blindsided her as her defences crumbled. No, no, please! Circe, not this – not now. She clenched her fists in the bedclothes, gripping them tightly, until her white knuckles could grasp no tighter. The sudden nausea which rose without warning sent her scrambling for the bathroom; she knelt on the cold linoleum of the floor, losing what little nutrition she had managed to ingest hours ago from a cardboard container.

Her forehead pressed against the toilet cistern as one hand reached for the handle to flush. She felt a kindly hand gathering her hair back from her face and securing it in a queue; the same hand then bathed her face from behind with a wet face flannel.

When she was sure her retching was over for this go, Hermione looked up at Penny with a pitiful smile.

Penny held out a hand. "Let's get you to bed."

Hermione allowed Penny to help her up without argument and went into the bedroom, where she wordlessly changed from her creased robes into a borrowed flannel nightdress. Penny sat on the end of the bed, watching her.

"Let me Floo him."

"No."

"You're making yourself really ill, Hermione. This has got to stop."

Hermione's head dropped; unbidden, the tears came again.

Penny sighed. This was a cycle that had been repeated several times in the days Hermione had been with her. Merlin deliver her from stubborn people! If she had ever once been through one of the episodes which Hermione had suffered almost daily for the last five nights, she would have done anything in her power to make it stop.

Penny stood and pulled back the bedclothes, plumping the pillow before taking Hermione by the arm and leading her to the bed. Experience of the last several days had taught her that comforting words, arm pats, and hugs were of no use once Hermione reached this stage; the best she could hope for was to dose her with Dreamless Sleep and pray for the best.

Penny pulled the bedclothes up and sat down next to Hermione on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully.

"Oh, God, Penny, it hurts," Hermione whispered, turning her tear-streaked face away, toward the wall.

"Where?" the Healer asked, grasping her wrist. "Let me help you."

Hermione did not respond. The longing raced through her veins as if her blood were afire. She had thought the desire was strong in the beginning, when they were so new – but the need for his presence, his comfort, his staunch and unchanging self, was bringing her swiftly to her knees.

The charm work she was attempting took all of her considerable power, every single day. By the end of each of their sessions she was drained so completely that Penny often had to Apparate them back to her flat when they gave it up, late at night, walking away from the disaster of yet another molten cauldron. She had no energy to deal with Severus and his jealousies and his unprovoked attacks.

Yet another wracking surge of misery coursed through her, wringing a moan of anguish from her throat.

Penny stood and went to fetch the phial of Dreamless Sleep. She could not bring Hermione to her senses, nor repair her sundered marital relationship, but she could provide surcease for the night.

---

Remus Lupin looked up anxiously at his fiancée as she joined him at a table in the Hogs Head Inn. Seeing her adorable face brought a softening and a tender smile to his face. He stood and gently kissed her lips before seating himself again, close enough to her that he could reach out and touch her as he spoke.

Tonks found herself forgetting the cares which had burdened her when she walked in the door of the pub. When she saw that look in his topaz eyes, all she wanted to do was crawl into his lap and kiss every inch of his precious face – and that was just for starters.

Remus captured the hand which bore the small diamond she wore so proudly and turned it so that he could press a kiss to her soft inner wrist. "I love you, 'Dora," he said in a voice suddenly choked with emotion.

'Dora reached up and stroked her finger down the old scar which bisected both lips at an angle. "I thought you said we won't have time tonight," she reminded him softly, suddenly ready to drag him up the rickety steps to brave the questionable sheets on the beds above.

He chuckled and gave his head a shake, causing his greying sandy hair to fall into his face. "We don't. I have an appointment to meet with Minerva in an hour."

"I could sneak in a side door and up to your rooms..."

"Albus threatened me if we did that again. No love-making in the castle, not until we're married – not during term time."

'Dora, who had known what he would say before she made the suggestion, dragged her hungry gaze away from his face and answered the question he had come to the pub to ask her.

"I couldn't see her – she's spending fifteen hours a day working in this Lewis bloke's laboratory. I did talk to Penny, though. Hermione cries herself to sleep every night; Penny usually ends up dosing her with a sleeping potion."

Remus shook his head. "Severus is a mess. I had to get between him and Craig Ferguson this afternoon. Severus is so ... difficult. Filius Flitwick said he warned the new bloke about Severus at the staff meeting on Wednesday – you would think Ferguson would have had better sense than to accost him after that."

'Dora opened her eyes wide. "What did Ferguson do to Severus?"

Remus shook his head. "Severus refused to say, just left the room. Ferguson said he just made a friendly comment about Severus' work for the Order during the war."

'Dora pondered a moment. "I'll lay you odds he was stupid enough to mention Hermione in some way."

Remus glanced at her with respect. "I would not bet against you, my love." He stood and held out a hand to her. "I'll walk you to the Apparition point."

'Dora preceded him out onto the darkened Hogsmeade street. When the door closed behind them, she tilted her head and gazed up into his face. "Promise you'll come spend the night, soon."

Remus ducked into an alley, pulling her after him, where he gently but firmly pressed her up against the wall. "Wait up for me tonight," he commanded hoarsely, before bending his head to hungrily devour her mouth.

---

Severus entered Professor McGonagall's office and seated himself in the hard wooden chair indicated for his use.

"Thank you for coming, Severus," the Deputy Headmistress said.

"I was under the impression it was a summons Minerva," Severus returned.

"Would you have come if I had worded the request differently?"

Severus merely quirked an eyebrow in reply.

"Then you understand why I phrased my invitation as I did." She appraised him frankly, noting the lank, greasy hair, the less-than pristine condition of his shirt, and the shadow of stubble on his cheeks. "You look a mess, Severus. You're tormenting the students and terrorizing the staff. How much longer do you intend to let this quarrel with Hermione continue?"

Severus rose precipitately to his feet. "I do not intend to discuss my marriage with you or anyone else, Minerva," he spat out savagely, turning for the door.

In her most imperious, commanding voice, Professor McGonagall said, "Take your seat, Severus Snape. You have not been dismissed!"

Somehow transported back twenty-five years, when she was his Transfiguration professor, the boy in Severus compelled him to obey McGonagall's order. Seating himself again before her desk, he looked at her bleakly.

"Now. What did you quarrel about?" she inquired reasonably.

Severus looked away from her uncomfortably. "She is working too much."

Minerva regarded him with a small show of astonishment. "Surely you do not seriously expect me to believe you quarrelled about something so ridiculous?"

His shoulders sagged and his head lowered. "I'm too old for her, Minerva," he said, his voice barely audible.

"The age difference is no greater now than it was when you rushed into marrying her, Severus. Pray tell, what is the difference between now and then?"

As she watched him, she saw how he struggled with himself. It was so hard for this boy to open himself to other people; trying to help him when he was in trouble was like trying to tend to a wounded tiger. He circled and snarled and let fly with his heavily clawed paws even as he limped and bled.

Finally, he looked into her face with anguished eyes. "She said..." His voice failed and he had to clear his throat before he tried again. "She said I am 'stuck in the seventies.'"

The look on McGonagall's face was patently incredulous.

"What?" he demanded with a show of his usual ill-temper.

"Severus, were you quarrelling when she said it?"

"Yes, did I not say so?"

McGonagall leaned toward him impatiently. "Did you mean everything you said to her in that altercation?"

Severus opened his mouth to retort, but McGonagall forestalled him. "Did you exaggerate? Engage in name-calling? Speak to her as if she did not have the sense of a flobberworm?"

Severus' mouth snapped closed again and a sulky look descended upon his face. "It's not as if I had not done all of those things before when we have argued," he whinged.

"Was she, or was she not, completely exhausted from her work when this argument took place?" Minerva asked him.

"She was, and I was only trying to talk some sense into her! She's driving herself too hard on this project."

Minerva's gusty sigh goaded him. "Why do you greet every piece of information I impart to you with such signs of disgust?" he demanded.

Speaking slowly and carefully, as if he were not quite bright, Professor McGonagall said, "Severus, I want you to think back. This is going to be difficult, because my understanding is that the Enchantment is an overwhelming force. Nevertheless, I want you to make a signal effort to remember: what is it that you liked about Hermione before the Enchantment?"

He thought for a moment, before saying, "Her intelligence, her drive –" he stopped and sputtered. "Who says I liked her before the Enchantment?" The sudden diminution of the quality of his word choice and the maturity of his attitude placed him firmly in the company of his fifth year students.

Minerva gave him a triumphant smirk. "No one told me, Severus. It was a guess. Now, please continue. Her intelligence, her drive..."

Severus glowered at her. "What is your point?" he demanded peevishly.

McGonagall stood and walked around the desk. "My point is this: the very qualities that placed her in Gryffindor House, joined with the qualities which you admired in her, are the reason why she is driving herself. Did you think she would cease to be herself because she became your wife? Was it your wish for her to do so?"

Severus rose and walked jerkily across the room to the window, then paced back to her desk, distress on his face. "Never. I want her to have the career she wants – I want her to have everything she wants – but I need for her to want me, as well." The last bit was barely audible.

Minerva reached out a compassionate hand and placed it upon his arm. "Now we reach the crux of the matter. Who are her work companions?"

Severus' lips grew tight and he wrenched his chin up, flinging the oily hair back from his face. "Two young men from the Ministry."

"Severus," Minerva said, waiting patiently until he turned his face back to hers. "She only has eyes for you. She does not care about the age difference. Young men of her age have never interested her. Even without the Enchantment, there is not another man who could supplant you in Hermione's heart."

She saw with some satisfaction the tiny flare of hope in his eyes. "Do you truly believe that?" he asked her quietly.

Minerva answered without hesitation. "With every fibre of my being, Severus. You have no rival for Hermione's affections. But if you are going to allow your own insecurity to cause you to doubt her, I don't know what is going to become of you. Have you so little confidence in her?"

Astonishment washed across Severus' harsh features. "I have every confidence in her," he answered firmly.

Minerva allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she squeezed his arm. "Let some of that confidence in her abilities bleed over into your feelings about her integrity and the quality of her fidelity," she advised him.

With a rare show of caring, Severus' mouth softened as one of his large hands covered McGonagall's hand on his sleeve.

She patted his angular cheek before she turned to seat herself behind her desk again. "Good luck," she said.

He stopped at the door and looked back at her. "I am going to need it."

Minerva watched him square his shoulders before he walked out of the room; the closing of the door found her indulging in a fond smile.

---

Penny was crossing the hallway with a phial in her hand when she heard the knock upon her door. With a sudden hope that it was an unexpected visit from Viktor Krum, who had popped in to see her twice since the Halloween Ball, she patted her hair before opening to her visitor.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she said, astonished.

"Good evening, Healer Clearwater," he said politely, peering at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "I know it is late to pay a call – but may I come in?"

Penny stepped back from the door and invited him to enter, suddenly conscious of the disorder of her sitting room. "Please excuse the mess ... we've been quite busy at work."

Dumbledore seated himself upon her couch, between a stack of Healing periodicals and pile of towels which she had yet to fold. "The Christmas Rose Potion, I believe?" he inquired.

Penny seated herself in an armchair and nodded. "Do you know about it?"

"I have read a bit about it," he admitted. "May I ask about your progress?"

Penny sighed. "I'm just an extra chopper in the laboratory; Simon Lewis and Peregrine Smith have been leading the research. When Hermione joined us, things really began to move along. But we've hit an impasse."

Dumbledore had a look of polite interest on his face, waiting for additional information, when Hermione wandered into the sitting room wearing the dressing gown she had also borrowed from Penny.

"I thought I heard your voice, sir," she said.

Dumbledore stood and crossed to her. "Please sit down, Hermione. You do not look well." He indicated the place he had vacated on the couch. When she had seated herself, he flicked his wand at the pile of towels, which folded themselves and flew into Penny's arms.

Penny understood Dumbledore's unspoken request; standing, she said, "I'm going to put these things away," and left the room.

Dumbledore seated himself where the towels had been and handed Hermione a clean handkerchief from his pocket. "Please don't feel you must stop crying on my account," he told her kindly.

Hermione choked out a sound which was a cross between a laugh and a sob. "I have been crying a bit, lately," she admitted.

Dumbledore did not speak, but watched her in a helpful way, his manner inviting her to speak her mind.

"Did Severus ask you to come?" she said.

Dumbledore thought he detected a tiny note of hope in her tone. "No, Severus does not know I am here."

Hermione looked down at her hands and pulled at the borrowed handkerchief. "I see," she said in a small voice.

"Do you?" he inquired curiously.

Hermione looked up into his piercing blue eyes.

Dumbledore then said, "Hermione, what makes you certain that your marriage will still be there for you to return to it?"

He watched the thoughts process sluggishly through her exhausted mind; when he perceived the expression of horror on her face, he spoke again.

"In the wizarding world, a wife is generally submissive to her husband's wishes."

Hermione seemed to swell with indignation at this pronouncement. "That is old-fashioned rhetoric from a time when women were regarded as chattel!" she protested.

Dumbledore held up a calming hand. "It is indeed an old-fashioned belief, Hermione, but it is still a tradition. You must remember that your husband was raised in this custom, however, and has lived immersed in the wizarding world for all of his forty-one years. As hard as he may try to understand and appreciate your point of view, you must make allowances for some beliefs being harder to dislodge than others."

She gazed into the fireplace, mulling over his words. Dumbledore once again allowed her some time to digest his words before speaking again.

"He forbade you to do something, Hermione. Had he ever done so before?"

Hermione looked over at the old wizard. "No, sir; Severus has never forbidden me to do anything."

"You are perhaps unfamiliar with the wizarding precept which states that when the husband invokes his power of Prohibition, it is the wife's duty to obey?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "What?"

Dumbledore nodded, and was pleased to see Penelope Clearwater poke her head into the room again. With a slight movement of his head, he invited her to join them again.

"Perhaps you could bear me out, Healer Clearwater?"

Penny knelt down by Hermione's feet. "Did he use those words, Hermione?"

In a fair imitation of her husband's tone and diction, she said, "'Do not walk out that door, madam. I forbid it.'"

When Penny winced, Hermione looked mutinous. "That's ridiculous! Why on earth should he able to command my obedience like some feudal lord wielding power over a serf?"

Dumbledore spoke to her with some sharpness. "You say that he has never Prohibited you before, Hermione. You cannot say that he is using this responsibility frivolously."

Penny spoke again, then. "I can only remember my father using the power of Prohibition with my mum twice in my lifetime, Hermione. It is not something which is used lightly. I'm not saying that there are not idiots who would misuse it, but a good man does not. It is a solemn charge, after all."

"Could he compel me to obey?" she asked indignantly.

Penny looked shocked. "That is never done. A wizard would not pull his wand on his own wife! It's indecent, Hermione." After a moment, she continued, "A wizard only Prohibits his wife to safeguard her, the marriage, or the family. For her to disregard it is a great sign of disrespect."

Hermione covered her face with her hands. "Why was none of this ever discussed at Hogwarts? Or at University? How can I have lived in this world for half my life and still not know things that are so fundamental that they are never even spoken of?"

Penny grasped her wrists and pulled her hands from her face. "Severus knows you're Muggle-born, Hermione. I'm sure, if you explain to him that you did not know about the power of Prohibition, that he'll understand. He loves you!"

"He didn't Prohibit me until the end of the quarrel, Penny! He was being beastly about my work on the project! And jealous of Simon and Perry! He was being demanding and nasty and insensitive!"

Dumbledore snorted and turned the sound into a cough. Hermione turned affronted eyes to him.

"I beg your pardon, Hermione, but you have just described your husband's basic personality to a nicety. Surely you're not going to hold these things against him at this late date?"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue and Dumbledore spoke again. "Step back from the argument, my dear, and tell me the facets of Severus' personality of which you were aware before you knew about the Enchantment."

Hermione closed her mouth again and pondered. Penny stood, saying that she would brew up a nice pot of tea, and disappeared into her small kitchen. At last, Hermione began.

"He's the most intelligent man I've ever met – well, barring you, sir, but you must admit that you're in a different category than most men are."

Dumbledore inclined his head at the compliment and indicated with a hand movement that she should continue.

"He is sarcastic, snide, and cynical, and viciously witty. He is antisocial, unpleasant and a bit emotionally backward."

Here Dumbledore held up a hand again. "Let us discuss this arrested development. You are aware of the causes of it?"

Hermione looked frankly into the Headmaster's eyes. "He has allowed me into his mind, sir, with permission to Legilimize him without reserve. In fact, he guided me, to see everything about him, before he would accept my love. I am aware of the causes."

"What do you imagine are some of the unfortunate side-effects of his emotional retardation, as it were?"

Hermione applied her mind to the puzzle. "He is overly sensitive, virtually incapable of accepting kindness, unable to form or maintain friendships, and insecure in the highest degree."

Professor Dumbledore nodded, as if to praise a student who has returned a particularly complete answer to a question posed in the classroom. "Now, tell me, my dear, did you by any chance say anything unfortunate to him in your quarrel – anything, perhaps, in the heat of anger, which you would later have begged pardon for saying?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands again. "I told him he is stuck in the seventies."

Penny, who was entering the room with the tea tray, said, "Ouch!"

"I too, have been accused of that – of course, my accuser meant the eighteen-seventies." He twinkled at the young women over his spectacles. "Let us have this lovely tea; I believe we have discussed this matter sufficiently."

Hermione gave him a grateful, if tremulous smile, and sat forward to pour a cup of tea for him. Penny walked into her bedroom and came out again with a bulging briefcase.

"You are familiar with alchemy, are you not, Professor?" Penny said, approaching him with the mass of parchment. "Would you look over our research and see if there is anything we are missing?"

---

Severus was standing at the Apparition point outside the gates of Hogwarts the next morning when Hermione appeared.

For a moment they stared at one another, both startled. Then Hermione spoke, awkwardly.

"I was on my way to find you," she said.

"I was on my way to find you," he replied.

"I need to ask for your help," she continued.

He looked at her, her hair a bushy, messy mass, confined to a disorderly queue, her face devoid of cosmetics, showing signs of exhaustion, her eyes tired and bloodshot, and all he knew was that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms for all time.

He spoke stiffly. "How may I be of service to you?"

She looked at him, seeing the signs of sleeplessness in the pronounced lines on his careworn face, the eyes as bloodshot as her own, the disorder of his clothing, and wanted nothing so much as to climb into him and hide herself there forever.

"Can we go somewhere for coffee?" she asked.

---

Severus sat across the table from her in the Leaky Cauldron and forced himself to listen to what she was saying. He wanted to touch her, needed to touch her, but she had made no move to apologize to him for walking out. She had also given no sign that she wished to be touched. It dawned on him that he was going to have to find a way to solve this problem with her work project if he wanted to regain her attention for himself. It was part of her Gryffindor determination, he reminded himself. She could no more walk away from a task which needed to be completed than he could deny himself the opportunity to taunt a Gryffindor.

With renewed attention, he began to attend to her explanation.

---

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and Severus Flooed in behind her. As he brushed the ash from his black cloak, he could see the anxious looks upon the faces of the project partners. Both of them had been students of his; he had made it his business to find out about them when Hermione had walked out on him.

Peregrine Smith and Simon Lewis had both obtained Outstanding marks in Potions on both their OWLs and their NEWTs. He had no clear memory of either of them, other than a vague recollection of their faces in the sea of students whom he had taught in his years as the Potions master at Hogwarts.

Nodding haughtily to each of the men, he said, "Mr. Smith, Mr. Lewis." He then turned to the other woman in the room and said, "Good afternoon, Healer Clearwater."

The wizards murmured cautious greetings to their old Potions master, wondering for the umpteenth time how a girl as brilliant as Hermione could have tied herself to the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons. Penny was considerably braver, stepping forward with a smile and offering her hand.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape. Thank you for agreeing to help us."

Severus cast a coldly appraising look around the laboratory before briefly shaking the proffered hand, then answered, "I said I would investigate the possibility of helping you."

Simon, in whose laboratory they were working, made a mental comparison of the cleanliness and orderliness of his own work space as compared to the Potions classroom at Hogwarts and immediately busied himself tidying up.

Hermione led Severus to the large parchment-littered table at the side of the room, which had a number of mismatched chairs pulled up around it. "Give over, Si, and come sit down. We need to explain our procedure to Severus if he's going to help us."

Simon gave up on cleaning the work surface and joined the others at the table. Presently, the three researchers were posing their work to their old Potions master, answering his curt and perspicacious questions and feeling very much as if it were their NEWT oral examinations, all over again. Healer Clearwater looked on in amusement, occasionally making notes to herself as they went.

The clock above stairs was chiming four o'clock when the researchers and the professor had completed their consultation and had outlined their plan for the next attempt at brewing the hellebore infusion.

Perry stood, leaning back a bit to work the kinks out of his back. "So, are we ready to begin, then?"

Severus stood, very much in his classroom persona, and spoke.

"Certainly not, Mr. Smith; please take your seat."

Perry sat down quickly, trading a quizzical look with Simon. Hermione and Penny, however, were utterly attentive to Professor Snape.

"When did you last eat?" he demanded of Simon Lewis.

"Uh, I had toast and tea this morning," he replied.

Severus turned his hard stare on Perry Smith. "I had coffee and a bun on the way over here, sir."

Next Penny and Hermione received his attention. "We had tea and toast this morning, too," Hermione told him.

Simon was getting a bit tired of the old autocrat coming into his laboratory and acting as if they were all schoolchildren again.

"See here, Professor, what has that got to do with this?" he demanded.

Severus turned on him. "What has the general good sense of eating properly and sleeping properly and fully replenishing your magical strength every single night got to do with your ability to perfect an untried magical experiment which is dependent upon your single and combined abilities to reach its completion?"

As he spoke, his voice had grown quieter and his enunciation more precise, until his last words were a whisper, and each of the four young persons were leaning forward to hear him.

"Perhaps you could explain in what way your health and strength does not affect the outcome of this project, Mr. Lewis?"

After a moment of abashed silence, Hermione spoke.

"What must we do, Severus?"

Severus reached into his watch pocket and consulted the timepiece.

"I will meet each of you in one hour at the Leaky Cauldron. Ask for the private room. You will dine properly, on a nutritious meal, and then you will return to your homes and your beds and you will take the phial of sleeping potion with which I will provide you. You will remain in your beds for no less than nine full hours. After a night of complete rest, we will meet here in the morning and make another attempt."

Without waiting for any sign of agreement from the others, Severus strode to the fireplace and held his hand out to Hermione.

"Come with me, please, Hermione. I wish to speak with you."

Hermione was strongly tempted to repudiate this domineering command, feeling that she would rather stay and discuss matters further with her co-workers. However, Penny nudged her with a certain violence under the table, and it occurred to her that she did not need to further insult a husband whose power of Prohibition had already been flouted – not if she wished to remain married, at any rate.

With a smile at Simon and Perry, she obediently stepped into the fireplace with Severus and held his hand as he released the powder and said clearly, "The Leaky Cauldron."

---

Severus stepped out of the fireplace and immediately turned to offer his hand once again to Hermione. The touch of her hand alone had been enough to both assuage and arouse the demands of the Enchantment. She took his hand and he led her to the bar, where he arranged the details of their dinner with Tom, the innkeeper.

Tom then escorted them into the private parlour, stoking up the fire and closing the door behind him before he left them alone.

Severus stepped over to the tray upon which several bottles resided. Picking up a bottle of deep red burgundy, he poured a goblet half-full of the wine and carried it to Hermione, who had chosen to seat herself in a leather wingback chair by the fire.

"Please oblige me by drinking this wine, Hermione. It will stimulate your appetite and enable you to partake of a full meal. It's the burgundy that we have at Enchanté."

Hermione accepted the goblet of wine and took a mouthful. He stood over her, watching her, much as he had done on a long ago night at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, when he had poured brandy into a teacup and made sure that she drank it.

When he was convinced that she was making an effort to ingest the burgundy, he said, "There is something which I must obtain from my office at Hogwarts. I will be back quickly." Without further comment, he exited the private parlour.

Hermione's eyes flicked to the clock on the mantelpiece; thankfully, she noted that the others would be joining them soon. Severus would not have much time to work himself into a full tantrum in such a short period of time.

Very soon, Severus returned to his wife. She jumped nervously when he entered the room, and he knew a moment of sour satisfaction. At least she had some respect for his temper.

"You will feel better when you have eaten a proper dinner and had a full night's sleep," he told her, seating himself in the armchair facing her.

Hermione was surprised at his choice of topic, though she responded readily enough. "But you don't think we will succeed, even if we're rested," she said disconsolately.

"Nonsense. I never said that."

Her eyes flew to his face. "You never said you thought it might work, either!"

He raised an eyebrow at her and crossed one long leg negligently over the other. "When have you ever known me to be effusive?"

Hermione found herself entirely distracted by the movement of his legs. She paused, with the glass only part way to her mouth, and remembered the sight of his unclothed legs, with particular attention to the lean muscle of his thighs.

Severus saw her pause and clearly read the bit of lust that crossed her face. He breathed an internal sigh of relief and deliberately shifted his position, uncrossing his legs and watching her eyes go to his fly.

Severus reached across the small distance between them and took her goblet from her. "You've had enough wine, I think," he said, his amusement evident in his tone.

Hermione watched him longingly as he crossed the room to return the goblet to the tray.

"I knew nothing about the power of Prohibition, Severus," she blurted suddenly.

He paused for a moment, his hands reaching out to grasp the edge of the table before him.

His back still to her, he spoke. "How can that be, Hermione?"

She stood and began to pace before the fireplace. "Muggles don't have it," she explained.

He turned then, a frown upon his face. "Muggle wives do not obey their husbands?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course they do! That is, some of them do, but it is a custom which has fallen into obscurity in the last thirty years or so."

Softly he said, "You mean, since the seventies?"

She looked at him from across the room, her contrition evident on her pinched face.

"I didn't mean it! I was angry with you!"

He advanced upon her, holding her gaze with his glittering black eyes. "I am too old for you, Hermione."

"You are perfect for me, Severus," she responded, trying and failing to look away from his compelling gaze.

He stopped before her, just beyond her reach. "I have acted foolishly, Hermione. I never meant for you to think that I am not very proud of the work you did in University. And I am very proud also of your position at the Ministry and the work you are doing there. I can learn to control my feelings of jealousy, Hermione. I know that I must."

She looked up hopefully at these words and advanced to meet him, placing the palms of her hands flat on his chest as she gazed into his eyes. He was reaching for her when the door to the room opened and the rest of their party entered, talking amongst themselves.

With a rueful smile at her husband, Hermione turned to greet her workmates.

---

Severus looked about at the young people when they had finished their pudding. He had resolutely refused to allow any of them to have coffee with their pie. "No stimulants," he had said firmly. Standing, he pulled four phials from his pocket; these were the reason why he had returned to Hogwarts.

"We are agreed that we will meet here at eight o'clock in the morning for breakfast?" he said.

The four heads nodded.

He held up one of the phials and showed it to them. "This potion will become effective thirty minutes after you ingest it. You will do well to go straight home and to bed; tomorrow may be a long day."

"Bed at eight o'clock at night?" Penny said doubtfully.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. "You are not required to participate, Healer Clearwater. If you have other plans that will occupy you, please do not feel compelled."

Penny rose and held out her hand for the phial. "What is it, exactly?"

Realising that the Healer was as familiar with such potions as he was himself, he responded. "It is a variation of Dreamless Sleep, including a large dose of nutritional supplement and a slight sedative. I mixed it specifically for this purpose." He held the remaining phials out to the others, each of whom took one. "Drink up," he advised.

"Now?" Perry said. "Take it now?"

"If you wish to have my assistance, you will swallow it here, where I may see you do so, and go directly home and to bed," Severus replied in an uncompromising tone.

The four uncorked their phials and toasted one another. "To the Christmas Rose potion!" Simon said.

"And to Professor Snape," Penny added.

And they drained their phials.

---

When the young wizards had Flooed away, Penny stepped into the fireplace in the main room of the Leaky Cauldron and gave her direction. Hermione stepped up next and Severus made as if to follow her.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

"I'm coming with you," he replied.

"Severus, I don't think..."

"...that you will be awake in another twenty minutes. I will sleep on the Healer's couch."

Hermione shrugged and held out her hand to him.

---

Severus removed his coat and his waistcoat while remaining in Penny's parlour and waiting for the sleeping draught to have its inevitable effect on the two witches. When he cracked the door into the spare room and found Hermione sleeping soundly, he slipped into the room and stretched out beside her, gathering her into his arms.

He was asleep in less than three minutes and slept more soundly and restfully than he had done since their quarrel began.

His internal clock woke him at dawn and he rose, fully refreshed. He was able to leave his wife sleeping in her bed, none the wiser concerning who had shared her bed in the night.

---

At ten o'clock that morning, the five of them were gathered in Simon Lewis' laboratory with the implements of their work arranged in a tidy and orderly manner. The fresh stalks of the black hellebore, also known as the Christmas Rose, were laid out upon the chopping surface. Perry and Simon stepped up to the table, then each turned with their silver knives held blade-first in their hands, extended to Severus.

"Sir?" Perry said. "Will you do the honours?"

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement. "That will not be necessary, gentlemen. I am here to participate in a bit of foolish wand waving."

The young wizards looked at one another a bit uncertainly, but when they saw the old Bat take Hermione's hand in his and press it to his lips, they turned their backs and began to chop the stalk of the plant with concentration and precision.

---

It had been Professor Dumbledore who had spotted the weakness in their plan as he looked over the notes Healer Clearwater had shown him two nights before. He had agreed with each step they had outlined, even approving the sequence of Strengthening and Containing Charms Hermione had devised to implement the brewing of the hellebore infusion. It had not been until he reached the casting of the charms that he found a problem with the programme.

"How many assistants do you have to help in casting the series of spells?" he had inquired.

"There are three of us, Professor. Simon carries on with the brewing whilst Penny, Perry and I cast and hold the spell."

Dumbledore had paused for a moment, then had tapped a gnarled finger upon the parchment before him.

"I do not mean to throw aspersions upon your spell-casting abilities, my dear, but you do not have enough power present to maintain the integrity of the cauldron. That is the reason why the cauldrons continue to melt."

Hermione had cocked her head and considered him. "But, sir, you know that old saw, how too many cooks spoil the broth..."

Dumbledore had laughed aloud at that. "We wizards say that 'too many brewers spoil the potion,' but I follow your point, my dear. I am familiar with your strength, as well as that of Healer Clearwater and Mr. Smith. Each of you is powerful, and I'm sure that you blend your power together well." His eyes had met Hermione's then and he had held her gaze, as he had said, "What you are in need of is a fourth spell-caster, a very powerful one, whose magic blends well with yours – that is, of course, if you can think of anyone."

He had left soon after dropping that little titbit.

Hermione had Apparated to Hogwarts at first light the next morning, in search of the most powerful wizard of her acquaintance, whose magic blended with her own in a seamless whole.

---

It came as almost no surprise at all when the entire procedure progressed without a hitch and to a successful conclusion. The four young people, feeling themselves under the eye and the direction of their Potions master, were accustomed to projects which he directed being properly completed.

It was only in extremis, at that point in the charm progression when each previous cauldron had melted into a useless lump, that Hermione held her breath, then felt that exhilaration which comes from an idea becoming reality before one's eyes. Feeling her own magic blazing in the safe cushion provided by the low, dark note of Severus' powerful contribution, she dared to glance over at him, and found herself stricken to the core by the sight of him in all his glory. The power poured from him in waves so intense that it stirred the air around him, causing the long ebony hair to be lifted from his face. His teeth were clenched, his lips drawn back from them in an expression at once terrifying and electrifying. The look in his eyes was one of almost supernatural exhilaration.

When he turned his head and his eyes met Hermione's, she felt a jolt of passion jar through her with such force that she gasped out loud. Her focus was not impaired by this phenomenon; in some way, she found it sharpened and amplified her contribution to the stream of magic which was holding the cauldron whole as Simon brewed the infusion of hellebore. She became aware that her nipples had grown taut with the wave of passion; almost instantly, the rising heat in her loins began to build higher. Instinct compelled her to accept rather than fight the physical sensations. As the arousal moved through her body, her magic flared ever stronger. Severus, too, appeared to be in the throes of an incandescent eruption, rising to meet hers, radiating out to envelope Penny and Perry in the towering conflagration. At the moment that Simon shouted the successful completion of the brewing, Hermione was convulsed with an orgasm with the magnitude of a solar implosion. Simon, as had been agreed in the planning stage, used his own wand to knock the four wands of his companions up, breaking the connection and severing the bond. Hermione, Penny, and Perry were knocked to the ground by the impact of the sundering; only Severus kept his feet, though he staggered.

Simon looked around at the charm casters. "What was that?"

Penny struggled up, blinking her eyes. "It was better than sex," she muttered.

Perry sat a few feet away from her, surreptitiously checking his trousers for embarrassing stains. "It was sex, Penny. What are you talking about?"

Severus squatted down beside his bride. "Are you all right?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine. Did it work?"

Severus helped her to stand and steadied her wobbly legs with an arm around her shoulders. "It worked. See?"

Perry was up now, and he and Simon were swiftly bottling the infusion they had created, excitedly chattering about the next step in the process, when they would add it to the potion base.

Penny was sitting on a stool near the two young men, tugging at her robes and glancing about as if to determine what had just happened to her and who had witnessed it.

"Gentlemen, Healer, with your leave, I will take my wife home now."

He was wrapping her securely in his arms as he spoke; his words were mere courtesy. He was going home with his prize whether they liked it or not.

"Thank you, Professor," Penny said, prompting the young wizards to echo her sentiments.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Hermione," Penny said, as the Snapes Apparated away.

Not if I have anything to say about it, Severus thought to himself.

After all, tomorrow was Wednesday.

---

A/N: I must make note here of a rather silly error I made in the writing of this chapter, which was pointed out to me by the alert Keladry Lupin. Penelope Clearwater is Muggle-born – we know this because she was one of the victims of the Basilisk when the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Therefore, she would have been no more familiar than Hermione was with the Power of Prohibition, and she could not possibly have been able to relate her father's use of the Prohibition with her mother, because they were both Muggles. I decided to leave the chapter as it is, but I did want those of you who spotted the mistake to know that I am aware of the inaccuracy.