Another Christmas

I would like to thank my wonderful beta, Nakhash Mekashefah, for her meticulous beta-reading.

Hermione settled into a comfortable routine through autumn. Her job was enjoyable; the people she worked with were fun to be around, even if the goblins seemed to look at everyone suspiciously; she soon discovered that they had their own positive aspects: they were always explicitly exact about what they expected, and she observed that if they had a problem, they made no bones about getting to the point in no uncertain terms. If they had a problem with her job performance, they wouldn't hesitate to tell her, and since they hadn't mentioned anything, she was confident that she was meeting their expectations.

She usually didn't work alone, and never worked alone when in the depths of the catacombs beneath the bank; it could be too dangerous. She became good friends with Bill Weasley and Edgar Rutledge, her co-workers, often having lunch with them, and even visiting their respective homes and families for small gatherings of friends on occasional weekends. She visited at Harry's a few times a month, enjoying the atmosphere in the house which was much rowdier and fun than at home, though she did enjoy the quiet simplicity of her homelife, as well.

Sometime in October, Severus began cooking most of the time, telling her simply that he preferred to eat dinner at six o'clock sharp, and since she would get home between a quarter after to half an hour after five, dinner on her nights to cook was often closer to seven. It was comforting to come home to the aroma of food roasting in the kitchen. Since he did his work in the cellar, it wasn't difficult for Severus to come upstairs to start dinner, and he didn't seem to mind doing it.

Things were moving along very comfortably in many ways, in fact. The murderer had stopped. The Order had had two more meetings since that first one to discuss the developments on the killer, and the only one who'd had anything he'd thought was worthy of reporting was Mundungus Fletcher, saying someone he knew was trying to procure unauthorised Portkeys for an acquaintance of a business partner of an acquaintance...but further investigation didn't turn anything up. Though she still wondered why they had stopped, she was confident that the extra security provided by the MLE department, and the espionage efforts of the Order, had scared them off. Good.

The day of their one-year anniversary came at the end of October. Hermione came home that evening to find that Severus had made a good roast tenderloin, his favourite, along with asparagus with Hollandaise sauce, one of her favourites. He'd also opened a bottle of wine which he'd had for some years.

He said nothing about their anniversary, though when they sat down to dinner he asked her, "It is my hope, Hermione, that you don't regret your choice."

She looked at him for a long moment, his black eyes seeming softer now than they ever had.

"Given the choices I had, no, I don't regret it," she finally answered truthfully.

"We may not have what you'd hoped to find, Hermione, but don't let that keep you from appreciating what we do have." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Are you content?"

By Severus's standards he was being terribly accommodating, even thoughtful, of her feelings. She drifted for a moment, just a moment, glancing around the kitchen, the dining area, the view into the living room...it was home. Her home. Their home. "Yes," she answered, nodding slightly as she met his eyes again, "I'm...content."

He nodded stiffly, then picked up his silverware and began to eat dinner. They didn't speak any more of their anniversary or of the progress, real or perceived, of their relationship over the last year, but she did feel things felt more settled, more comfortable. Instead, they discussed whether or not they had seen signs of a lone Mooncalf in the field in front of their house. Hermione thought it would be interesting to see if there might be another Mooncalf and if their mating dance would produce a formation large enough to attract the attention of the Muggle media, as Muggles had varied opinions of what caused those formations: from hoaxers, to aliens trying to send messages to earthlings, to energy vortexes.

"There will be a doco on the telly tonight about crop circles that you might find entertaining," Hermione told him.

And so, Severus sat with her that evening, occasionally snorting with disdain or offering a scathing remark about the brainpower or sanity of theorists, while Hermione would tell him that if it weren't for the restriction on Muggles learning of magic, they would know quite well that it was simply Mooncalves in their mating dance.

*****

A few days later, Hermione was making a list for her Christmas shopping; her savings were enough that she planned on using half of it for Christmas, and then to leave the rest. It had been a busy week at work, though she had been pleasantly surprised that afternoon to be informed that her job performance had garnered her a wage rise. She was relaxing in an armchair as she made her list, her feet tucked up under her. The scent of corned beef and cabbage was wafting from the kitchen. She allowed her head to fall back a moment, looking around at the walls and shelves of their living room. It was so different than how their quarters in the dungeons of Hogwarts had been.

There, nothing in the main living area, or in Severus's bedroom, had truly been hers. Here, the walls had been painted in colours of her choosing (though she had avoided certain colours which Severus had voiced protest to), and were adorned with many pictures from Hermione's childhood, both before and during her Hogwarts years, and of her friends and family. Her books were intermingled with his on the bookcase, grouped by subject and genre, only the inscription on the inside cover indicating whose book was whose, and the new books she had purchased had no inscription of ownership within.

Upstairs, the second bedroom was still bare, and the bedroom they shared was still furnished with her furniture. She planned to purchase new furniture in the spring, as she didn't want to spend all her savings at once. For now, building up a wardrobe of more professional robes, buying books and other things she liked, and eating lunch with her friends was what she spent the portion of her earnings set aside for personal use.

Hermione glanced up as Severus rose from his desk to check on supper in the kitchen. She'd noticed several times over the last hour he'd hastily scratched out whatever he'd written, and seemed tense about something. Curious about what he was doing, she went to his desk and found a ledger-book open there. She paused to glance over the columns, then, with increasing alarm, read with more attention.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked when he returned from the kitchen.

"Looking at our finances," she answered tightly. "Why didn't you say something?" she asked, looking up at him, brows knit together in concern. "This is..."

"Not your concern," he snapped, closing the distance to the desk quickly and pulling the book from her, shutting it firmly. "I have already told you that I would handle our household expenses, and I will."

"Severus, you've only got twenty-three Galleons left in savings!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly. "Please tell me there's more somewhere? And your income...it's not even enough..."

"Stop! I said I would handle it," he growled through clenched teeth.

"You're being stupid!"

"What did you say?" he hissed, glaring at her.

"You heard me; you're being stupid. All this time, you haven't mentioned, even once, that money was tight. You've let me believe everything was fine! I'm not sure why you haven't said anything to me about this, but I have plenty of money in my savings. If I'd known..." she waved her hand in a frustrated motion at the ledger book, "that things were that tight, I would have made quite a few different decisions about things. God, Severus! Why didn't you say anything?"

Severus stood there a moment, seemingly seething in anger. "Hermione...I feel it is my duty –"

"Duty? Duty? Would you just...ahhhrrrhhh!" she growled in frustration.

"Yes, Hermione, it is my duty to provide my own wife with basic living accommodations," he said, enunciating every word. "Forgive me if the idea of having you support me, when you should be working to further your own goals, is distasteful to me. I am not a layabout to sit idly by while my wife handles those things which are clearly my responsibility."

Hermione crossed her arms, lips pressed in a tight line as she looked towards the ceiling and mentally counted to ten. She repeated the count when she still wanted to shout at him after the first count. Finally, in a very controlled voice, she spoke. "First, the household expenses are just as much mine as they are yours. Secondly, I seem to recall when we first married, that you were adamant I cover my own expenses," she levelled her gaze at him, "and now you seem satisfied, for some insane reason I can't comprehend, to send us into the poor-house while I have plenty of savings to cover this.

"I've been putting aside more than half my income since I started working...I've got nearly three hundred Galleons, Severus. I had planned to spend a very large portion of that for Christmas shopping. No," she said sharply when he started to speak again. "If you insist on handling the money, fine. But I'm going to transfer two hundred Galleons into your account first thing tomorrow so that you can at least cover expenses for the next two months."

Severus clenched his jaw, then, after a few moments, slapped the ledger book back onto his desk. "Dinner is on the table," he announced tersely as he stalked back into the kitchen.

They didn't speak at all through most of dinner, each pointedly ignoring the other as they ate. Hermione was frustrated, and more than a little baffled, that he hadn't said anything or asked for at least some contribution to their bills.

"Severus, I got a rise today," Hermione told him as he was clearing the dishes. "They're paying me fifty Galleons a week now. I know you've been brewing a lot of potions, and I'm sure they'll sell more soon. But, for now, there really is no harm in letting me cover the bills."

Severus clenched the edge of the counter, his knuckles growing white as he looked out the window over the sink into the dark back garden. "I can...consider it a loan," he finally conceded.

Hermione sighed. "Is that really necessary? Really, Severus. Have you bought anything for yourself at all since we've been here? Anything?"

"I purchased a set of work robes and some green wellies last month since I was preparing the garden beds for the winter."

Hermione decided not to argue that she thought his meagre purchases didn't really count. "Do you have any regular customers yet?"

After a long moment of staring out into the dark night, he turned and sat heavily at the table, resting his forehead on his hands. "Borgin and Burkes has been giving me sporadic business. The Apothecary in Hogsmeade has been making regular, if small, orders, as has the one in Diagon Alley. I anticipate more orders in the springtime. I've sent letters to a number of former associates who weren't Death Eaters, but have yet to hear anything from them. Perhaps I have sabotaged my business prospects by demanding such high standards of my students. The vast majority of witches and wizards who went to Hogwarts during my tenure should be able to brew most basic potions with little difficulty, and many can brew intermediate and even advanced potions, which means that most everyone between the ages of eighteen and thirty would have little need to contract those potions."

"What about some of the household potions manufacturers? They might need a Potions brewer; maybe, until your individual sales pick up, you could go for a job with one of them if you want. But if you really think things will pick up in the spring, just let me cover the bills. Really, I'm making enough to do that now."

His head raised and he rested his chin on his hands, looking at her as she finished. Yes, her argument seemed logical enough, but it didn't feel right. He should be capable of paying their expenses. "Very well, but only until I can cover the expenses myself."

*****

Severus was walking through Knockturn Alley the next morning on his way to visit Borgin and Burkes shop to see about drumming up additional sales of his potions. A very light, slushy snow was falling; it was early November, and the weather had turned cold, wet, and generally miserable. He had received a letter delivered through Fawkes that morning, too, and would be headed to visit the Headmaster that afternoon, presumably for news regarding the killer, who was still at large, and still mysteriously inactive.

He walked into the shop after casting a quick silencing spell on the bells which alerted the manager to a customer's presence, and looked around, growing agitated that he did not see his potions display. Finally, he found it, nestled near the back of the shop behind a dusty crate. Lips set in a tight line, he walked to the back door and pounded firmly on it.

"Whadaya...oh, good morning, Mr Snape," Mr Borgin said, offering him a slimy-looking smile as he stood in the doorway, blocking the office behind him from view, sliding out and shutting the door behind him. Severus thought the pathetic attempt to hide whatever unsavoury business partner was inside only made the shop owner appear more incompetent. "What can I do for our up and coming potions brewer, then?"

"First, you can take my potions display and place it where customers might actually see it!" he hissed angrily. "Secondly, I have a catalogue which I want available along with the display." He had spent several hours after Hermione had gone to bed the previous night carefully considering which potions to offer, and had made a small catalogue which he hoped would encourage customers to contact him directly.

"Ahh, yes, well, you know...just been doing some re-arranging about the place is all, Mr Snape. We'll have your display out where people might see it soon enough."

Snape reached forward with lightning-fast speed, closing his fingers around the throat of the man before him. "I daresay you will keep it in the front, or certain parties might become aware of the cause of a certain incident which they are still quite upset about, Borgin." The man's eyes widened in fear, then he nodded in understanding.

Snape released him, then turned to his display, withdrawing his wand and levitating it to a better location. He paused only to leave a stack of catalogues at the display, then walked from the shop, glad that he knew enough of certain people's pasts to give him decent bargaining tools.

In Diagon Alley, he stopped at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, where he dropped off an order and was pleased to have a good-sized list of orders waiting for him. He spent a few moments talking with the proprietor, whose daughter had graduated from Hogwarts, one of his Slytherin students, nearly ten years before and who had a favourable opinion of her former Head of House due to the special attention he'd given her in adjusting to the difficult time of her mother's passing away.

He decided to go to Gringotts to withdraw enough to cover the current bills. He imagined Hermione must be deep under the bank then; the only humans in the lobby were customers. He discovered Hermione had transferred two hundred Galleons from her savings, and he had the appropriate amounts transferred to Muggle currency for their rent and utilities, then took Galleons and Sickles to pay the monthly Floo connection fee, and picked up several things at the market.

When he'd done that, it was lunchtime, and he decided to see if Hermione was taking her lunch break out of the bank. He saw her as he approached, walking between Bill Weasley and another man who looked to be his age, but Severus didn't recognise him from anywhere.

"Severus, hi!" Hermione called, smiling as she came down the stairs. "I didn't know you would be here today."

"I've had business to attend to and thought to see if you had plans for lunch," he said as he walked close enough so he didn't have to raise his voice for her to hear him.

"I usually have lunch with Bill and Edgar, but if you'd like to go for lunch that would be fine."

"The Leakey Cauldron has a special today which looks good."

"Bill, Edgar, I'll see you guys in an hour," she said, turning to face the two men coming down the stairs. They waved her off, nodding politely but distantly to Severus.

Hermione and Severus walked to the Leakey Cauldron, where they both decided on the day's special, Colcannon and Corned Beef.

"I'm wondering...now, don't say 'no' too fast, Severus," Hermione began over lunch. "Fred and George are doing really well in their business...no, Severus, hear me out," she said, holding up a hand when she saw his mouth open to protest. "I was going to suggest that you advertise with them. They have people in and out of their shops all the time. I could talk to them about it, if you don't want to."

"I see, and what should I advertise for their clientele, Pimple Pulveriser Potion?" he said, sneering.

"Actually, that would be a great idea, Severus," Hermione agreed, ignoring his sarcasm. "And besides Pimple Pulveriser Potion, I'm sure you have several other potions that would do well with that market. Also, I imagine with their workload, since they are very careful about letting their particular potions recipes out, they might need additional help from someone who they know is trustworthy. Now, I know some of them wouldn't necessarily want to buy from their former Potions master, but it wouldn't be too difficult to come up with a more appealing market label..."

*****

Severus raised an eyebrow when he came upstairs from the cellar, where he had been brewing several potions, upon seeing Hermione waving her wand at a tree placed along the front wall between the window and the door. Due to Hermione's ideas, Severus had had quite a bit of business...ironically, the Pimple Pulveriser Potion, indeed, had sold very well, and he brewed a very large cauldron full nearly once a week to distribute between the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes shops. He should have thought of that himself, he realised in retrospect. However, going for help to two of the most annoying students he'd ever had was something he really hadn't wanted to do. In the end, he had spoken to them himself, rather than have Hermione do it. Had she been their intercessor, it would have only appeared that he was unable to take care of those things on his own.

He was now able to cover their household expenses from his sales alone, and felt much better about that. And that morning while making his delivery rounds to the apothecaries and the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes shops, he had done a bit of shopping of his own.

"How very...festive," he commented.

Hermione turned to him, smiling. "I thought it should look more...Christmassy." She shrugged, then looked around and cast a Dusting Charm on the mantle, bookcases, and the desk.

Severus wasn't particularly looking forward to the coming week; Hermione's parents would be visiting. They were to spend the last day of her parents' visit with the Weasleys, and he hadn't been able to find an adequate excuse to get out of it.

"I just hope my Transfiguration was strong enough to hold for the week."

"If it's not, I'm sure they'll have quite a surprise when the bed reverts to a towel and a few books beneath them." Hermione shot a scowl at him, then went to the kitchen to pull the last batch of Christmas treats from the oven. He followed her silently, waiting until she had placed the hot tray down on the stovetop, before firmly grasping her hips from behind.

"Come to bed, Hermione," he whispered in her ear. "I've an early Christmas present for you..."

"What kind of present?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"Come and find out," he murmured silkily.

Upstairs, he blindfolded her and bound her hair back, then slowly removed her clothing and stood back, looking her up and down as she stood waiting, nerves nearly visibly humming with anticipation. He'd left the protection amulet on her, and he admired how it set off her skin as it hung neatly between her pert breasts. He knew she was expecting a present of a sexual sort of application, what with the way he had chosen to give it to her. He thought she would be surprised.

He removed his own clothes, then stepped forward quickly, scooping her up and depositing her on the bed, swiftly binding her wrists to the headboard. He teased and stroked her body, nipping, then suckling at her nipples, carrying on until she was writhing beneath him in frustration, trying unsuccessfully to grind against him. He would slap her on the thigh and move out of range, laughing at her torment each time she tried.

He drew back after a time, smiling down at her, feeling a strange pressure in his chest and an odd constricting sensation in his throat.

"Severus, please..." she groaned.

"Would you like your present now?" he asked.

"Yes! Stop teasing!"

Severus laughed. He got out of bed, quickly fishing in his discarded cloak pocket for the gift he'd bought her. It was probably more expensive than what he should have bought, but things were going well enough that he felt he could afford it. He got back into bed, then frowned, wondering if he should remove Hermione's blindfold so she could see it, but he decided that it would probably jar the anticipation he'd carefully built.

He draped the gold cord around her neck, allowing the diamond pendant which hung from it to fall in the hollow of her throat. "Lift your head," he murmured. She did so slowly, obviously trying to feel what it was he'd given her, and he clasped the pendant around her neck. This, too, he had already cast a series of protection spells on, which would cause anyone who wished to do her harm to become extremely confused in her presence. It was something he couldn't have given her while they had lived at Hogwarts, as these particular charms would cause enough confusion around some students who might have disliked her that it would have presented an interference in testing and classroom performance, so it wouldn't have been allowed. He should have given her something like it earlier, after leaving Hogwarts, he thought.

"What is it?" she asked in a whisper.

"Something else for your protection," he said, running his fingers over the smooth, flat gold, and fingering the pendant. He lowered his lips to her neck then; his hands moved down her body as he moved over her, slowly entering her.

"I want to make sure no one can hurt you, Hermione," he sighed as he sheathed himself fully in her. "You're mine," he whispered so softly it was barely audible. Severus savoured their coupling, the feel of her body beneath his, her lips and teeth on his shoulder, her nipples against his chest, her legs around his waist. As she neared climax, he realised he wanted to watch her face fully, and he reached up and tore both the blindfold and the bindings around her wrists away.

Their eyes met, and his hands entwined into her hair as he lowered his face to hers, kissing her fiercely; he felt like he wanted the moment to go on forever, to have her body against his forever...it was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever felt for anyone before.

For hours afterward, he felt an odd disquiet, as if something were seriously wrong. It was uncomfortable; he couldn't place the strange feeling he'd felt as he'd neared climax, a feeling which had pervaded him for some time afterwards. Finally, he put it out of his mind, deciding that he had other things which needed his attention, and he lost himself in reading a book, while trying to block out the sound of Hermione watching a show about the history of the myths of witchcraft in the British Isles.

*****

The week before Christmas wasn't so bad as Severus had thought it would be. He would retreat occasionally to the cellar; he did still have potions to brew. He made a few excuses to go for walks, as well. Mostly, he realised that with Hermione's parents there, he felt like a third wheel. It had felt the same the previous Christmas, but he didn't think it was right that he felt like that in his own home. Hermione's mother had practically taken over the kitchen, baking treats, dinners, and large breakfasts. She noticed halfway through the week that the refrigerator was unplugged, and as he happened to be in there at the moment and Hermione was not, he'd had to explain to her the Cooling Charm he used in the refrigerator, and the Freezing Charm he used in the freezer each morning instead of having the Muggle device run and use electricity needlessly.

The transfigured furniture in the guest room did hold out for the week. He employed silencing charms on their bedroom a few nights that week so he and Hermione could enjoy themselves without the need to try to be quiet.

Hermione's father, after the third day, came down to the cellar while Severus was brewing. "Hermione isn't here, if you're looking for her," said Severus, looking up from the large cauldron momentarily while carefully keeping track of the count of his stirs.

"No, I'd come to tell you that...well, it could be better, but since you're just starting out, I think you've done well enough here. I suppose it's different for you magical people."

"Good of you to say so," Severus replied neutrally. Last year, he had seemed more at ease with Hermione's father...he didn't quite understand why it was different this year. Somehow, blithely putting the man in his place didn't seem the correct course of action. "Hermione has taken to decorating, as I'm sure you've noticed, and she seems satisfied with things as they are," he said when Frank Granger continued to stand there.

"What's that you're brewing?" he asked, stepping forward to peer into the orange, gelatinous liquid in the cauldron. Severus bit the inside of his cheek in irritation.

"Pimple Pulveriser Potion. Unfortunately, it seems to be of the highest demand at the moment...I'm sure all the chocolate the pubescent dunderheads stuff themselves with these days has something to do with that."

Frank chuckled. They chatted for several moments about inanities, small talk, the weather, then Frank said he thought he heard Jane calling, and exited the cellar.

Christmas day, they exchanged gifts. He'd bought Hermione some books, in addition to the amulet he'd already given her. Hermione had gotten creative with her gift-giving, trimming her list of people to give gifts to down to close friends and immediate family, sending cards to everyone who'd been on her Christmas list previously.

He appreciated the gift she had for him: a thick, forest green, woollen jumper. It fitted him perfectly, and while not his customary black, was something that wouldn't look unprofessional or tacky under his robes. When they progressed to gifts from friends that were under the tree, he clenched his teeth when he saw what Harry had bought her: hair combs, expensive hair combs, with tastefully arranged diamonds and rubies on gold. Her mother, infuriatingly, urged her to put them on. When she did, he could see that it did look quite nice on her; however, that sort of gift was entirely inappropriate.

Much later that night, as they were getting ready for bed, she noticed his disapproving glance at the hair ornaments when she put them in her jewellery box. "Severus, Harry has a lot of money...really, I'm sure everyone on his Christmas list got something a bit...well, extravagant."

"Of course," he said, obviously not meaning it. He sighed then, seeing her lips tighten as she closed the lid of the jewellery box. "Potter is a young man who has always striven for that which he cannot have; he fits people he knows into the roles he wishes he'd had in his early life. Perhaps you don't see it, but I do." He eased into bed, casting a warming charm between the sheets and quickly pulling them up to his chin. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

"Yes," she answered with a sigh. Once between the warm, flannel sheets, she wondered if maybe he could be right. Harry had been spending a lot of time with them. But, she was tired, and it seemed Severus was as well; his breathing changed to a deep rhythmic pattern, the warm caress of his exhalations lulling her quickly to sleep, too.

*****

Boxing Day at The Burrow was as hectic as ever. Hermione's parents, having stumbled upon arrival by Portkey, her mother swearing there had to be another way back home, had a wonderful time. Hermione smiled as her dad was cornered by Arthur, demanding details about Muggle dentistry. Hermione's mum looked with interest at the goings on in the kitchen...Molly had charmed a good portion of the cooking, and bowls with mixing spoons were mixing themselves, potatoes were being chopped with self-propelled knives, pots were being stirred, and a rolling pin was flattening dough all while Molly bustled about, managing to seem to have everything under control in the small, crowded, and loud home. Harry, as ever, seemed in his element amidst it all, and sat on the couch, watching everything happily.

Fleur and Bill were expecting, and Molly seemed to be reliving her own six pregnancies, telling Fleur far more details about the cravings she'd experienced, the swollen ankles, the stretch marks that had started before she'd found a potion to erase them than Fleur seemed to want to hear...but that by the time Ron and Ginny came around, she hadn't bothered with the anti-stretch mark potion any more. Fleur informed her stiffly, after some time, that: "We handle all zat differently back home; my mozzer had none of zose problems." Molly, of course, went back to the kitchen in a huff, and Bill followed to try to make peace.

Fred and George were testing out a new product, and Ginny found herself turned into a walrus temporarily. Unfortunately, they hadn't perfected the antidote, and Ginny still had walrus whiskers when Hermione, Severus, and her parents left The Burrow. She hexed both of them soundly, telling them she'd give them the counter-curse when she was completely cured. However, the elephant ears they wore were a source of amusement for them and everyone else, and not much of a motivation for them to fix Ginny's whiskers.

Hermione caught up with her about how her seventh year was going, though when Ginny was telling her about the new Potions master, who was apparently rather nice, Hermione noticed Severus's lips drawn in a tight line and he found an excuse to go outside for some air.

"Oi! Hermione!" Ron yelled, rushing into the house. There had been so much activity, she hadn't noticed he wasn't there before. "Take a look at this!" he said loudly, holding out a scroll. "I've won a trip in a contest...didn't think I'd win, really...but I can bring five friends along, all for free, too!"

It turned out, three months before, Ron had entered a contest advertised at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, which had asked for the solving of a riddle. He'd jotted down what he thought it might be after thinking about it a moment, and had pushed the parchment into the entry box. The Grand Prize, a trip to a wizarding hotel nestled in an Alpine ski resort, was something he was excited to share with his friends.

He asked Hermione, after making sure that Parvati and Harry could come. No one else was able to make it, however. Arthur wished he could have, but he'd already taken his allotted vacation time that year, and the trip was for the week before the new year.

*****

Severus Apparated home, alone. Hermione had gone with her parents to make sure the Portkey didn't jar them too much on the way home. While he had, of course, been looking forward to finally having her alone to ravish, he knew that Hermione would be upset if she had missed out on the trip with her friends, which she would be returning to pack for. He had given Potter a severe glare before he left, sending him the unspoken message that he knew very well what was on the boy's mind. The way he had watched Hermione all that day had been pathetic. The boy was obviously in love with her – probably, he thought, because he couldn't have her.

He was still very full from Mrs Weasley's cooking, and so decided to forgo dinner.

Hermione came home while he was reading, accompanied by Harry, Ron, and Parvati Patil, and she rushed upstairs to pack while the three others shifted uncomfortably as Severus glanced at them disapprovingly.

"I'll see you at the end of the week, Severus. Are you sure you don't want to come?" Hermione asked when she came back downstairs, a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Yes, I'm quite sure," he answered, levelling his gaze at her. "You will be careful, of course."

"Yes, of course I will." She paused near where he was at, nearly glancing at her friends, debating something internally before she gave him a smile and turned to leave.

The next day he spent brewing potions, and when it came time to make supper, he felt slightly irritated that he was cooking only for himself. Deciding it wasn't worth the bother, he made a simple sandwich, then went upstairs to relax in a bath with a book.

By the time Thursday came, he found himself pacing the house, and decided to go outside and take a long walk, trudging through the biting wind and snow as he worked off excess energy. He was starting to wish he had taken up Weasley's last minute, though reluctant, offer to come along on the trip. He decided he must be accustomed to regular sex, and rather didn't appreciate being deprived of it. When he returned home, and later to bed late that night, he began to try to relieve his sexual tension, but stopped after only a few strokes, thinking of something else he'd rather do. He got out of bed and went downstairs to his desk, quickly writing a letter to Hermione and sending it off with their owl. It should get to her by the next morning, he thought.

*****

Hermione spent the first day of their vacation sightseeing with her friends. They went skiing the next day, Hermione finally agreeing after they had prodded her into the ski-rental shop and cajoled and promised she'd have a great time. Eight hours later, when she finally reached the bottom of the ski slopes, she was tired, wet, cranky, and sore, and wanted nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and relax in a warm bath. If there hadn't been so many Muggles around, she would have Apparated back. As it was, she had to trudge to the ski shop by herself, as she had encouraged Harry to go on since she was slow on skis and kept crashing even as she went down the easiest slopes in a permanent wedge to keep her speed as low as possible. Her thighs ached with the continuous effort of the position. Harry must have passed her, pausing to glide alongside her to talk on each trip down, at least six times. Skiing really was not her thing.

When she exited the rental shop, she ran into the other three, who were just getting back, looking flushed and happy. They all wanted to go out around the town, and so they started out, Hermione thinking of bowing out early, and then they went to eat at a little bistro.

The next day, as they were walking, Ron and Parvati kept getting 'lost' in secluded nooks in the mountain town's shops, and Harry had suggested that they should quit playing around and just go back to their hotel room, as they weren't getting much out of the trip anyway. They agreed gladly, and Hermione and Harry walked together through the town, stopping at a secluded restaurant that specialised in sandwiches for lunch. Harry ordered a Monte Cristo, and, after seeing another customer receiving the same order, offered to split it with Hermione.

They ate together, talking about their years together at Hogwarts, where they thought they might be in ten years, and how they were enjoying their lives so far.

"So, Harry, are you seeing anyone yet?" Hermione asked as she munched a thick chip.

Harry opened his mouth, blushed, then looked down at the table, poking his chip in his ketchup idly. "I, well...I've been on a few dates...but I don't really feel like dating...I suppose my standards are too high..."

"Oh? What are you waiting for?"

"Someone special...someone who cares about me for me, and not because I'm famous for defeating Voldemort...someone who doesn't care about all that...someone who knows me, who is smart and independent and a good listener and who will tell me when she thinks I'm making a mistake...someone like...someone like you, Hermione."

Hermione froze mid-bite, staring at him. Harry raised his bright green eyes to meet hers boldly, even as a red blush spread over his face. She swallowed and blushed herself as Harry looked back down at his plate.

"Harry..."

"No...don't, Hermione. I've just...I know it can't happen, but I'm not going to settle for anything less than someone like you...I think...I think that you're perfect." He reached across the table suddenly and grasped her hand tightly. "It was about more than I could take when the Marriage Law passed and you had to marry that...when you had to marry him. I know there can't...well, that we can be friends, and that if I can't have you like I want to, then I want to have you as a friend and I'm happy with that...I just hope...I just hope he's truly worthy of you, and I hope he appreciates you."

"Harry, this is just..." Hermione trailed off, not sure what to say. If it was true that Harry had feelings for her, that he wanted to be with her, then that certainly put a lot of pieces together. Severus had been right about him. The rest of the meal passed awkwardly, silently, as they picked at their food. Each tried at several intervals to say something, but stopped, neither having words that could describe the situation.

"Harry...I need to be alone now. I'm sorry," Hermione muttered, then made a quick exit from the restaurant, hurrying back to the hotel room. The injustice of the Marriage Law, which she thought she'd dealt with, thought she'd learned to live with in relative contentment, felt as if it would overwhelm her. She should have been free to pursue her own relationships...a relationship with Harry, who, though she'd never before thought of him as a potential lover, only as a wonderful friend, she realised she could have been very happy with if she had been free to pursue that.

Back in her hotel room, she found a letter from Severus on her bed.

Hermione,

Hermione angrily crumpled the note, then incinerated it in her hand. Harry would never have demanded any sort of sexual servitude of her. Yes, she'd agreed to it; yes, she'd learned to enjoy it; yes, she had gotten used to Severus, trusted Severus, but at the moment, none of that seemed to matter.

She wasn't sure how much later it was – Hermione had been sitting on the edge of her bed for a long time, feeling blank and numb – when there was a knock on the door. She knew even before she opened it that it would be Harry.

"Hermione, please, just listen to me. I shouldn't have said that...I'm sorry, I know you can't..." His apologies, explanations, fumbling for words all ran together as she looked at him, truly seeing for the first time his deep green eyes, the way his black hair stood out in all directions, falling over his forehead and making his eyes seem all the more beautiful. His lips, which he bit and moistened with his tongue in his awkward apology, were so tempting.

"Hush, Harry," Hermione whispered, stepping close to him and tilting her head. Time seemed to hold still as their lips met, arms entwining around each other's bodies. His kiss wasn't nearly as practised as Severus's, his movements were slightly awkward, but Hermione didn't notice that. Instead, she felt how much he truly cared for her, that how he held her was in a way not to elicit a calculated response of lust and arousal in her body, but was an expression of his feelings, his love.

When their kiss finally broke, they drew back, looking in each other's eyes, which were misty with unshed tears. His hand reached up and stroked her cheek; her hand entwined through his tousled hair. Again, their lips met and Hermione felt that she'd never been kissed like this...her stomach fluttered and her throat constricted. Without thought, they moved slowly to the couch in the room; hungrily, desperately, they kissed, embraced. It was joyful and tragic all at once, and both had tears spilling freely from their eyes when they parted again, breathing hard and fast. Hermione became aware that in the position they'd fallen, she could feel that he was very aroused.

Harry, it seemed, realised what she was feeling at just that moment, and pulled away from her. "I shouldn't have..." he muttered.

"Harry, no...it was me, I wanted...I still want...oh God!" Hermione leaned forward, burying her head in his chest. "I'd never thought – I didn't know...if I'd known you felt like that...I'm just – and the goddamned Marriage Law! Why did this happen to me?" she wailed. "It wasn't so bad...I mean, it's okay, he took some getting used to; it was actually pretty rough at first, but I just thought that it would work out, that maybe we could be happy...and it's not like we aren't happy or anything...I just...I don't love him, Harry, and I don't think I ever will no matter how much I wish I could...that would make it so much easier.

"It's been over a year now and I don't think I can ever love him. Most of the time, I try not to think about it; it's not like we're fighting or anything; it's actually fairly comfortable. He works; I work; we even share the housekeeping." Hermione laughed through wet sniffles. "He just seems so...so cold...I'm not sure if he's even capable of love...his life has been so different that I'm not sure I could ever understand him."

"He might not be able to love you, Hermione...but I'll always be here; I'll always love you, even if things didn't work out like that."

"But, Harry, you can't! You can't put your life on hold and sit around waiting for me, putting me on some kind of pedestal and never finding someone you can be with. It's not right." After a long pause, she asked, "Harry, have you even ever...um, been with anybody...you know...?"

"Um...no...I tried a few times, with a few of the girls I've been on dates with...it never got very far. It didn't feel right; they didn't want me for me; they wanted me because I was 'The Boy Who Lived' and not Harry...just... Harry." He pressed his lips together, glancing down. "I don't think they really were out to get me like some kind of notch on a bedpost or anything...it was just...not right." He sighed as he held her, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"Right now, I really wish we could..." Hermione said. "They've got a horrible Binding Spell on us...me and Severus, that is...I know someone who tried being with someone else...it was awful for her."

"I'd never want to do anything to hurt you, Hermione. Besides, even if it weren't for that, it would only make things harder with you and...Snape."

"I'm not all that sure it would, Harry." She lifted her head to look at him. "In fact, I really think, if it wasn't for the Binding Spell, he'd be perfectly fine with...well, each of us going our separate ways from time to time, just for the variety," she ended sardonically, scowling as she shrugged. At Harry's questioning look, she added, "For him, sex doesn't really mean...well...for him it's a good time, it's fun, a physical release and..." she paused wondering how much she should say, "he's told me that he's never had a monogamous relationship before we got married; I think he resented it at first."

"Oh God, Hermione...I didn't know...was he ever...hell, I'm not sure what I'm saying. I just want the best for you, and I just couldn't imagine...I mean, maybe since I never have, I might be making more of it than what I should...I just know that when I do, I don't want it to be something that's just for a good time...it's supposed to be special."

Hermione eased back against his chest, holding him as tightly as he held her, wishing she could help him, wishing she could help herself. Harry was silent, simply holding her, while she began working over the problem, justifying in her mind what she wished she could do. After all, hadn't he said he'd never been monogamous, that he'd never demanded monogamy of his sexual partners...all he'd wanted was for them to submit to him while they were together. If it weren't for that Binding Spell...which, now that she thought about it as a problem to work out, she realised it would have weaknesses. She tried to remember that girl who'd activated it...she said one thing led to another, and then it happened, but she hadn't gone into detail about when it had happened.

"Harry...I have an idea," she said carefully, looking at him. "The Binding Spell...well, I think, if we set certain limits, wouldn't activate...we might not be able to, well, go all the way...but I don't think that should matter, do you? I mean...if we were creative?" She met his eyes hopefully, with a thrill of excitement, watching as understanding lit up his eyes, too.

"Hermione, you shouldn't do anything you don't want..." He was silenced suddenly as she kissed him.

"I want you, Harry," she whispered fiercely in his ear before she nipped a spot just below his earlobe, which she hoped would work on him the way it did on Severus. He gasped, stiffening beneath her, moaning wordlessly.

At first, he was hesitant in his movements, careful in touching her, not wanting to move too fast for her, but her urgency soon made him forget. For Harry, the feel of her tongue against his, her lips trailing nips and kisses down his neck...his breathless excitement as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, nipping at his chest, trailing her fingers around his body, was overwhelming. He wished he'd realised sooner why it was he'd been so upset about her marriage, but gradually, and especially after he'd left Hogwarts, he'd come to realise that she meant so much more to him than just a friend. While he'd masturbated plenty before, lately with the image of Hermione as he took himself in hand, the tightness in his cock was like nothing he'd felt before.

He knew, even if it couldn't be what he'd hoped for, it would still be something meaningful, something memorable, because it was Hermione, not the specific act, that was important.

*****

Hermione was deep in thought the next morning. Harry had left, almost shyly, an hour before, giving her a chaste kiss before leaving, shoulders stooped and feet shuffling as he glanced back at her sadly before he'd closed the door of her hotel room. When they'd both come to completion, they'd fallen into a deep sleep together, wrapped in each other's arms.

What she'd shared with Harry the previous night had seemed to be such a loving, and even special, experience, despite the fact that there had been no direct intimate contact; it had all been through clothing, his thigh insinuated between her legs firmly as she rocked rhythmically, and her hand squeezing the bulge in his trousers as they kissed and touched.

In nearly a year and a half with Severus, and the extremes of sexual experimentation they had gone to, the times that she had felt their sexual congress really and truly had involved any depth of feeling she could count on her fingers. The day before her parents had come to visit was one of those times. Hermione reached into her handbag and pulled out the necklace he'd given her then, following it with the words 'You're mine'. She fastened it around her neck and fiddled with the gold and diamond pendant that fell just at the hollow of her throat, closing her eyes tightly at the burning sensation of tears trying to escape.

Had she cheated on Severus? And if she had, did it really mean anything in their kind of marriage, a marriage brought on because of a law, a marriage neither of them would have sought had it not been for that law, a marriage he had approached, at least for a good portion of the first year of it, as a trade of sexual cooperation for protection? Did his recent behaviour show that he really felt something for her, or was it simply the both of them growing more comfortable in their existence together?

She remembered then what he had told her in their first meetings regarding her decision on who to marry: " As my wife, you would not have a doting husband to buy you gifts, or to read you sonnets..."

He hadn't read her sonnets, certainly, but he had bought her gifts, and a very expensive one, at that, recently, one which showed thought for both her safety and for something nice for her to have. He wasn't exactly 'doting'...but he did cook dinner most of the time, and had made an almost total reversal from his original statement that she would have to cover all her own expenses.

What he'd told her of his family – which still wasn't much – was enough that she could believe that, perhaps, Severus really had never seen what a loving relationship was about. His father had been abusive, and his mother had been a neglectful alcoholic whom he hadn't spoken to in well over twenty years, and didn't even know if she was dead or alive.

His early sexual experiences, going on what he'd told her, had been casual, meaning nothing more than a physically good time, and in a way in which he had been in charge. Perhaps, given his early life, his lack of control through bullying at school, he had latched on to a method which seemed to give him power, which provided him with sexual pleasure and still protected him from being powerless. She remembered how adamant he had been about requiring her to submit...and had certainly noticed that over the last six months, his harshness in their sexual encounters had waned considerably – he was even accommodating; he rarely gave her orders, and when he did, he phrased it more as a suggestion – a request – than a requirement.

But she knew, especially after what had happened last night with Harry, that she couldn't continue to live in a relationship that was that of housemates and meaningless sex. She needed to feel loved, to feel cherished – Harry would cherish her, she knew, but that wasn't possible; she realised with some guilt that though she loved Harry as a friend, she didn't love him like that. In a way, she felt as if she'd taken advantage of him, of his feelings for her, to experiment, to experience something like that with someone who did care for her the way she wished Severus did.

Hermione decided, as she rose and gathered her packed travelling bag, that she would go home, and would have a long talk with Severus. She wasn't precisely looking forward to telling him what had happened with Harry, but she decided that she needed to tell him, to explain why it had happened, that she needed more than simple 'contentment'. If he wanted her to be happy as he claimed, and if he wanted her to remain with him, he was going to have to work at opening himself up. It wouldn't necessarily be easy, but it was what needed to be done, and she was going to insist upon it.

If he couldn't do that, she would tell him that even if they couldn't fully have sex with anyone else, there was quite a lot which could be accomplished without completing the act that wouldn't activate the Fidelity Charm.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the darkly cloaked figure in the corner of the otherwise deserted room as she made her way to the Floo. She would go first to the International Floo hub, then Apparate home. As she reached for the jar of Floo powder on the wide mantle, everything went dark as a cloth bag was jerked over her head and a drawstring pulled snug around her neck; strong arms grabbed her suddenly, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled and kicked, screaming loudly out of instinct, but before she could place an effective blow, her assailant placed something in her hand, and she felt the sudden lurch of a Portkey.

With a thud, they came to a stop, and Hermione renewed her struggles.

"Shh, we'll be there soon," a voice whispered in a low register so that she couldn't recognise it, if, indeed, it was even a voice she would recognise in a normal speaking tone.

"Let me go!" she shrieked, and stomped down on the man's foot, hard. He made a strangled sounding whimper, then pushed her away, tearing her cloak off of her, and pulling her travelling bag away. Hermione reached up to pull the bag from her head, but hands grabbed her forearms in a vice-like grip, and she found something thrust into her hand again, and again, the lurch of a Portkey jolted her.

This time when they landed, Hermione let forth a burst of wandless magic in her panic, and the man was pushed away from her. She tried to reach for her wand again, but before she could she was thrown to the ground as he landed atop her heavily, pinning her arms and legs to the ground with his own limbs.

"Stop fighting!" he hissed. "I'm not going to hurt you; we'll be there soon." As he whispered, holding her down firmly and shifting his grip to hold both her wrists with one hand, he ripped her jumper up over her head, releasing her wrists just long enough to pull the garment from her, and she blindly struck out, a fist connecting heavily with the side of his neck. He overpowered her again, holding her down, and she felt his hand at her throat.

"Stop! Get off of me!" she screamed, panic-stricken and struggling. She tried, even in her panic, to summon the concentration needed to Apparate, but with her assailant holding onto her and her own panic, Apparation was impossible.

"I can't," he whispered back to her, and Hermione thought she heard a slight sob come from above her, then there was a jerk and a snap of stinging pain around her neck; he had pulled off the necklace Severus had given her. She heard it clatter on the ground, then she felt yet another object placed in her hand firmly, and, again, she was propelled through space, feeling sick with fear and motion-sickness.

*****

Severus startled to attention as his wand crackled with energy. Reaching for it quickly from where he was seated in the bathtub, he focused on it, realising the spell on the amulet he'd given Hermione was giving its alert. She was in danger. He leapt out of the tub, not even bothering to cast a drying charm on himself, and quickly pulled on the robes he'd removed earlier which were still covered in potions stains from the morning's work; he'd wanted to bathe before moving on to less messy tasks for the day.

He ran downstairs, a feeling of panic emanating from his wand, and felt a sickening nauseous feeling. Once outside the wards, he focused on her, then Disapparated.

With a sickening lurch, he landed and looked around, just in time to see a cloaked figure on top of Hermione in a hotel lobby clasping her hand just as they disappeared. He stood, and again focused on Hermione's amulet...but this time he felt that she was much further away. He had to focus. Burying all emotion he felt, including the frustration that the process of focusing took precious moments, he Disapparated again.

He found himself in dusty, empty room. There, on the floor, the dust was disturbed, still floating in the air. Her cloak and travelling bag were tossed against the far wall.

Again, he pulled together his resolve, and focused on the spell with Hermione's amulet. He had to get to her, had to find her before she was hurt. He Disapparated.

When he Apparated, he gasped in pain, nearly blacking out. He thought it must have been the furthest he'd ever Apparated in his life. He let out a strangled scream of frustration when he scrambled around just in time to see a blurry shape vanishing not more than five feet from where he'd landed. He gasped when he saw Hermione's jumper, the one Mrs Weasley had given her that Christmas, on the floor...and then a glitter of the necklace he'd just given her as well. "Hermione..." he whispered, nearly choking.

Once more, he focused, and this time, it took nearly every reserve of magical energy to Apparate in one piece. They weren't here – here being a hotel room of some kind. Standing up, he tried again to focus on the amulet, but realised with horror that it was laying on the floor of the room he stood in.

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