Chapter 06

VI.

...

Damned female, Severus thought, giving his hostess and co-habitor a dark look. Not to her face, of course; he didn't want her to misinterpret his discomfort as a distaste for her.

Having retreated to the crate-crowded basement with his own books to work on his task, he had managed to finish the matter within two days. Aside from giving him a few odd looks whenever he surfaced, Hermione had left him to his own devices. Now, with her humming and seasoning the sauce for their pasta, industriously slaving over the Muggle stove, he couldn't quite figure out how to do it.

Why does she have to be so...so busy all the time? Why can't we eat in a fancy restaurant?...Oh, yes, right; known ex-Death Eater and a bushy haired heroine, that's safe to take out into public... Dammit...how do men do this without making utter, bloody fools of themselves?

She turned to grab a bowl for the sauce, forcing him into smoothing his brow. He even attempted a smile. From the slightly puzzled glance she gave him, the attempt failed. Retreating to the table in the breakfast nook, where they had taken to eating their meals, Severus sat down in the chair that had quickly become 'his'. Since he had already set the table and poured the wine, that was the only thing left to do. Wait for her to bring the meal to him, since she'd said she could manage it on her own.

How do other men do this? he wondered, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease some of the tension that was forming. It's even more complicated, because she's the one who proposed to me...though there weren't any bended knees, or declarations of undying love...or flowers, he thought suddenly, staring at the label on the wine-bottle he'd opened. It had an arbor of roses arcing over the name of the vineyard it had come from. I should have gone out and picked some flowers, at the ruddy least...

Bowls of food settled onto the table in front of him; Hermione settled herself in the seat across from him, the one that was now hers. "Is something wrong?"

"What?...No," he quickly denied, shaking out his napkin and placing it on his lap.

"Severus," she stated, placing her own scrap of linen below the edge of the table, "you look as upset as if you'd had your tail trod upon, but like you're trying to hide it. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing!" he protested brusquely, reaching for the pasta tongs.

She stared at him for a long moment, then helped herself to salad and garlic bread. "At the age of eight," Hermione informed him, "I was tested by my primary school teacher...we all were, in that class...and at the time, I proved to have an I.Q. of 134. Just a smidge short of qualifying for MENSA. I assure you, Severus, I am not an idiot. Something is bothering you, and if you would be willing to discuss it...maybe I could help you come up with a way to make it stop bothering you. All you have to do is talk with me."

He ladled the white sauce over his noodles, thick with chunks of chicken, broccoli, and zucchini, but didn't say anything.

"Among the many things the war taught me, Severus," Hermione said quietly, exchanging bread basket and salad bowl for sauce bowl and pasta dish, "is that life is too short and precarious to waste it in hiding the truth. Not when you don't have to, and we don't have to. Not with each other. If we're to make this arrangement work, we cannot afford to hide the truth from each other."

Dropping the tongs back into the salad bowl, Severus dug into his shirt pocket and held out the object he had hidden in there. There was no easy way to say what he wanted to say, so he just stated, "I made this for you to wear."

Hermione stared. It was the silvery-blue pearl, gently caged in a filigree knotwork of gold. A ring. Her hand crept up to cover her mouth, then stretched out, almost touching it. "You...made that? For me?"

"Yes." It was awkward, doing this, but he was getting through it all the same. "If we are, as you say, to make this arrangement work...then you need to be wearing a betrothal ring."

She exchanged her right hand for her left one, fingers trembling but extended. "It's beautiful."

Relief coursed through him. "Good." Catching her fingers in his, he sorted out the third one and slipped the ring into place. It was large and loose. "I crafted it with a few protection charms built in, some for the pearl, some for you. And a sizing charm. The most I know about your fingers is how good they are at scratching my chin. Implera."

The ring squeezed down around her finger, then relaxed to the perfect fit. Hermione blushed at his comment, studying him more than her engagement ring. "Your own are rather talented. You know, when I was trying to date Ron, I daydreamed about..."

"...Please," Severus cut her off, wincing at the linking of that name with hers. "I don't want to know about you with anyone else."

"Severus, this is important," she countered, catching and holding his gaze, squeezing his fingers to let him know she wanted his attention. "Listen to me. I daydreamt about an evening in my future. Of quietly sitting on a couch with my future husband, of reading some book, some journal...and I realized I would never have that with Ron. If I'd stayed with him, he'd want me to be exactly like Mrs. Weasley.

"Don't get me wrong...Molly is a very nice woman and a wonderful mother, someone many a young witch could look up to and want to emulate, and be proud to have as a role-model. But I'm not like her. I don't want a garden patch, I don't want half a dozen children, and I do not want to give up that dream of sitting on the settee with my husband, enjoying a quiet read. The only man in my entire life that I can see myself doing that with is you," she stressed. "I won't have anyone else in my life, because of that dream. I'd rather stay a spinster until my dying day, with half a dozen cats, than turn into a Molly Weasley clone for a husband I cannot even hold a five minute conversation with, without it involving Quidditch, or nagging, or an argument of some sort. And not the good kind of argument."

Her sincerity pinned him in place. Severus wanted to squirm, but there was only so much one could do when fixed to a piece of cardboard like this. Except maybe give in, and write out his own label. "So long as I'm one of those half-dozen cats..."

She smiled at that, squeezing and releasing his fingers. They busied themselves with serving the rest of their meal, then Hermione picked up her wine glass, lifting it in a salute. "To a lengthy future of contentment and happiness that your years of suffering and hard work long ago earned."

Clinking his glass against hers, Severus nodded an agreement. He sipped, thinking, then offered his own glass in a toast. "To the inclusion of you in that future, to help ensure it."

It wasn't exactly a statement of undying love, but from the pretty way she blushed and smiled, ducking her head, Severus figured it should count for at least partial credit. Their glasses clinked together, and they settled into their supper. He considered her words as he enjoyed her cooking. Thoughts ran through his mind, wriggling free with honesty, and surprising him with his conclusions. By the time they were on their second glass of wine, he had made up his mind to speak on the matter. It had to be addressed at some point in their association, after all.

"Hermione...you said that you don't want half a dozen...children," he managed to say without too much faltering. "Do you want any at all? Or none?"

Hermione swallowed her mouthful of salad and roquefort dressing hastily, to keep from choking. The thought of Severus Snape not only willing to discuss the matter, but to bring up the topic himself, wasn't expected. Clearing her palate with a sip from her goblet, she considered his words carefully. "Well...I definitely don't want half a dozen. And...well, I don't want any right away. But I wouldn't mind having two at some point, maybe three. Mostly if the second lot turned out to be twins. No less than two, though, and no more than three at most. I was always a bit lonely as an only child. My mother miscarried when I was five and ended up having her uterus removed. So...no chance of siblings for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Severus found himself offering. He'd permitted Mrs. Granger to pet him a few times, in the guise of being nothing more than a cat; after having observed her for several days, he could honestly say Hermione's mother was a nice woman. Gritting his mental teeth, he admitted it aloud. "Your mother seems a very nice woman. And she did a good job of raising you."

Hermione smiled wistfully. "Yes, she is. She and Dad are taking my being all grown up now rather well, I think. I miss being their little girl, sometimes, but I didn't have any other choice than to finish growing up, this last year or so."

"I'm sorry for my part in that," Severus muttered.

"Don't be," she countered, smiling at him. "I'm not." At his quizzical, skeptical look, she added, "I've come to believe that everything happens for a reason, even the bad stuff in life. You helped us win the war, at great personal and moral cost. You deserve happiness, loads of it, in recompense. I'm glad I can be a part of that."

"A philosophical Gryffindor," he found himself daring to tease. "Will wonders never cease?"

"Hey, I was almost sorted for Ravenclaw," she shot back lightly. "And watch your mouth; we're both well shot of Hogwarts, so no more of all that House rivalry nonsense."

Leaning his forearms on the table, Severus asked, "Do you really think you can order me around that easily?"

"No, but I expect you to put as much effort into our betrothal as I'm willing to put," she countered. "And, erm..."

He arched one brow at her hesitation. "And, what?"

"And to that end...I'd like to discuss a delicate subject with you," Hermione stated, taking a deep breath to quell her nervousness. "With the understanding beforehand that I'm saying these things to help you move toward a better life than you had previously...and not meant as an insult to you, or anything offensive. Just...helpful advice."

"Helpful advice about what?" he asked warily.

"I have some, erm, charms, and potions I'd like you to try. Or to try upon you, some of them. You have a lot of potential," Hermione added quickly, earnestly. "I'd like to see you achieve it, that's all."

That sounded ominous. "Potential for what?"

Drawing in a breath, Hermione took the plunge. "Your hair, and your teeth, for starters. I've been practicing a tooth-straightening charm, and there's a whitening potion I can make...and something for your hair. A wizarding potion, since I realize you're probably not very confident about Muggle products."

Hygiene? All of this was about making him look better? Severus stared at her, taken aback. "You think I'm ugly!"

"No!" Her instant outrage carried both the sting of a whip to his back, and the soothing of what he had thought was the actual lash. "I think that you need to start taking better care of yourself. It's as if your subconscious has been trying to punish yourself for the role you've had to play in the war. I know you hate tongue-baths, and frankly, I can't blame you after having been a cat myself," she admitted frankly, "but you also haven't availed yourself of the showers in this place more than twice, the whole time we've been here."

"I've bathed four times," he admitted in a mutter. "Twice while you were out of the house, off doing something elsewhere."

"Well, that's just not going to cut it," Hermione retorted. "If I can bathe every other day to keep myself clean and sweet-smelling, you can bathe every two days, too. And if I can get my teeth straightened by one of Madam Pomfrey's spells, you can, too. And... Well, it's not any different from wearing nice clothes and brushing out your hair and putting on deodorant, and just wanting to look good for your partner in general, so they can appreciate you at your best as much as possible.

"I'm not asking you to turn into another Gilderoy Lockhart, for godsake," she added quickly as he frowned. "Just...to make a little more effort than whatever was your habit in the past," she finished. "It's not necessary to hide your better qualities anymore, in order to push away the potentially curious who could have exposed you...and some of those qualities are physical, you know."

The gist of her words sunk through his suspicions, penetrating his awareness. "You think I have physical potential?"

"Of course!" she all but snorted, stabbing at the next mouthful of salad. From his skeptical look, she guessed he needed convincing. Rather than coaxing, however, she ennumerated his qualities matter-of-factly. Coaxing, she suspected, would only have made him even more suspicious. "You've already used your voice to good effect on many occasions in the classroom. I can only imagine how much more effective it could be, if you coupled it with your intensity and mated it with your passions. If you could bring yourself to seduce me with it. In fact, I think your voice could be quite devastating to the female psyche, if you ever deigned to wield it properly. Or rather, improperly."

He tried not to blush at the suggestion.

She continued. "Your hands are talented, too. Deft, is the word I'd use. Graceful, precise, skillful and trained in both the arts of Potions making, and cat-petting. I look forward to seeing how deft they are at the art of woman-petting, when we get to that point."

That was definitely a blush warming his cheeks.

"I also happen to like dark hair, but I prefer mine to be silky and clean, not greasy from neglect...honestly, Severus, what do you scrub it with, regular soap?" she asked him pointedly. "Do you realize what kind of a residue that leaves on your locks, never mind the way it clogs the pores in your scalp? For that matter, you should use a bodywash. Regular soap is none too good for the rest of your skin, either."

"I suppose you'll be demanding that I get a tan, next," he muttered, twirling pasta onto his fork.

"A little more sun wouldn't be amiss, but only because of the nutrients the sun helps your body to process. Vitamin D, and so forth," she agreed. "But not too much. Personally, I kind of like the contrast between your dark hair and eyes, and your pallid hide. You've always been a brooding sort, dark-haired and clad in black. Though I think I wouldn't mind seeing you in a nice shade of blue. Green just brought out the yellow tones in your skin, whenever you wore it to a Quidditch match."

"Observing me all the way back then, were you?" Severus quipped, eyeing her warily.

"Just as I observed everybody," she retorted. "Frankly, Professor Sprout looked far better in green than you ever did, though she'd always wear that hideous yellow overrobe on Quidditch days, whenever her House played. It made her look like an overdeveloped squash, if you ask me."

"Did you have...feelings for me? When you were a student?" Severus found himself asking.

"I admired and respected you, as a student," Hermione told him. "Mostly in private. But nothing more. Not until recently."

He stared at her, silently questioning her statement, until she ducked her gaze and carefully, truthfully replied.

"When I realized you were playing a role, back at the start of my fifth year...I realized you had to be nasty to nearly everyone, to maintain that role. If I had tried to do more than admire and respect you in private, it could have spilled into my reactions to you in public, and that would have put your role into jeopardy. So I didn't let myself see you as anything other than a man to be respected in private. I mean, it wasn't as if I could do so openly or vigorously without the others calling my sanity into question. You weren't exactly free to be nice to us, you know, and they didn't exactly think your situation through, properly."

"No, I wasn't free to be nice," he agreed quietly. "Nor did I know you enough to respect you, beyond a vague, carefully denied pride over your abilities as a student. You're right, in that I couldn't deviate from my role. But...I don't have to remain that way now, do I?"

"No, you don't," she agreed gently. "Which is why I want to help you get in touch with who you really are. To help you cast off the shackles of your previous guise. To stop hating yourself for surviving, and for doing what you had to do." Casting about for a way to get him to understand, Hermione reached across the table, covered his hand with hers, and said, "I care about you, Severus. The more I know of you, the more I care for you. I just want you to care about yourself, too. That means taking care of yourself. Which I'd like to help you do."

Severus studied her for a long and thoughtful moment. "I...would like that. A lot." Unable to help himself, he grimaced a little, adding, "Even if it means imitating that idiot, Lockhart, by fixing my teeth."

"We're not aiming for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, you know," Hermione teased him. "If we did, I'd have to beat the other witches off of you with a stick, and I'd rather spend my time doing something a lot more fun. Like snogging you."

Flushing, Severus grunted, "Good. I'd hate to see you desperate to avoid time spent in Azkaban for assault just because of me."

"That's a good sentiment. Just remember, it's no excuse to keep hiding your potential," she chided him. He had relaxed a little under her reassurances, so she solicitously changed the subject. "...More alfredo?"

"Yes, thank you."

...

The next two weeks turned very busy. Severus permitted Hermione to nag him into trying Muggle shampoo and conditioner for his hair, and to bathe more frequently in the shower. There was more to his acquiescence than the pursuit of cleanliness, of course; it was the one place where he could guarantee a certain length of privacy. That privacy allowed time to relieve some of the ache their increasingly less tentative, more passionate kisses built up within his body. He suspected her of using her own bath-time for the same reasons, as she emerged from her lengthy soaks with a certain relaxed air about her, an air that appealed to his senses.

There wasn't that much time for snogging, however. The artifacts had to be tagged for either sale or retention, and there were quite a lot of them. Hermione insisted that Severus have a say in keeping some of the pieces, since they would be sharing the house and he'd have to look at them and live with them. Unfortunately, he had to spend most of his time doing so in his cat form, since her parents came by to help unpack, study, repack and tag the various crates of artifacts and artworks in the basement of the overgrown cottage.

Severus communicated his wishes by studying each piece, and either walking away from it, or padding up and bumping his head against it. Her parents, amused by these antics, petted him fondly whenever he passed them. He was getting used to being touched by others, and they did touch him gently enough, so sometimes...just sometimes...he'd walk past them deliberately for a gentle pat or ear-scratch.

There was also Aunt Eumenia's things to sort through, plus her funeral to attend. Severus couldn't go with Hermione to the memorial; a cat would be out of place, and a human...well, no one in her Muggle family knew him on sight, but her two friends had offered to accompany her. Severus spent the time in one of the spare bedrooms instead, transforming it from a guest room to a library. Using a portion of his own funds, he Apparated into town to buy several sturdy bookshelves at a Muggle office supply outlet, arranging for them to be delivered that afternoon while she was gone.

Assembling them was easily done via magic; some edged the room, while others stood back-to-back in the center of the chamber; there wasn't a lot of maneuvering space for more than one person at a time, but it wasn't as if the two of them were going to dance in here. Of course, he could picture kissing her among the shelves, combining two of his favorite things: books; and her. Kissing, and fondling...he had to direct his mind back to his task more than once as the morning progressed. By the time he heard her return with a crack of Apparation, he had already loaded half the shelves with the books from his collection, with what would hopefully be enough room leftover for her own volumes, once brought from her parents' home.

Then it was back to more of the unpacking, deciding, repacking, and separating the artifacts into their stacks: those to be sold at Sotheby's; and those to be kept. The latter were stored upstairs, and the former in the basement.

When the auctioneers finally came to haul everything off to London, it was a relief to see a completely empty chamber afterwards, broken only by supporting walls and posts. Leaving Severus to pad around, no doubt plotting away as to how their impending laboratory would be arranged, Hermione accompanied her parents upstairs. Her father flashed her a rueful smile.

"Well. The auction will be in a couple weeks, once they've had a chance to examine and assess the value of each piece for us. Looks like you can get your life back to normal, or as normal as it'll ever get, all things considered." He gave her a serious look, his smile fading. "Now, promise your mother you won't bury yourself in your reading and your research and whatever witchly things you plan on doing, and don't become an old spinster-maid."

"Dad!" she protested, blushing. "I'm not going to become an old maid, for heaven's sake."

"You're not dating Ron, you're not dating Harry, you don't have any other prospects on the horizon...!" Jeffrey protested.

Rachel shook her head slowly. "I don't think that's quite true, dear... Isn't there something you want to tell us, Hermione?" She picked up her flustered daughter's left hand, displaying the ring the younger woman had been wearing for the last few weeks. "Or rather, someone?"

"Er...well... I'm seeing somebody. In the wizarding world. We're, erm...taking it slow, but with honorable intent," she hedged.

Her father narrowed his brown eyes. "Is that an engagement ring? When I haven't heard a thing about the fellow, let alone met him and given him a good third-degree?"

"Ah, well...er..." Hermione stammered. "Well, for one, he's a bit...reticent around others."

"Reticent? What does that mean?" Jeffrey asked. She started to hedge again, and he arched an eyebrow pointedly.

"Well...he was a spy, during the war. He worked for the good guys," she hastened to reassure her parents, "but because he had to play the opposite role for so long, it's left him with a tarnished reputation, even though we wouldn't have won at all without his help. Even the Ministry has acknowledged that he's a hero, but... He's really...well, I wouldn't want to whitewash some of his more glaring flaws by calling him 'nice' outright, but he's nicer than one would be led to believe. And he's super-smart; I don't have to dumb down anything I say in a conversation with him," she added, enthusiasm warming her tone. "It's not easy to find someone who can keep up with me, you know. And he's a gentleman. He wants to respect me."

"What does that mean?" her father interrogated, frowning at her. Unnoticed, Severus had climbed the stairs in his cat form and now lurked in the doorway, listening to her waxing eloquent over him.

"I think it means they haven't had sex, yet," Rachel answered dryly.

"...Mother!" Hermione felt her face burn with embarrassment. "That's none of your business!"

"Well, I'd like to meet this fellow, and gauge his intentions personally. Especially if you're wearing his ring," Jeffrey stated firmly.

"Dad!" Hermione protested, upset with his inquisition idea. Her parents eyed her askance, making her sigh roughly. "...Look, it's a bit complicated. He's an older man, and, well...we knew each other during the war, but we weren't dating, by any means. In fact, you could honestly say we were at loggerheads with each other more than once, and it's only been in the last few months since the war ended that we stopped arguing and started to actually get to know each other. And we're still getting to know each other. Now, I'll bring him by...but not immediately. Not while you're still reeling from the shock of my having an actual boyfriend. One who isn't Ron, and who definitely isn't a boy."

Severus padded forward and rubbed up against her ankles, silently praising her for unequivocably affirming he wasn't some spotty-faced adolescent. She scooped him up, cuddling him on the slope of her breasts. Purrring, he lounged against her sternum and studied her parents, enjoying her defence of him. It wasn't often that he had someone defend him, and even less frequent for him to actually witness it happening.

"Exactly how much older is 'older'?" Rachel asked her daughter. "Five years? Ten?"

Hermione wasn't going to fall for that trap. "Does it matter? I could easily live to be a hundred and fifty, as a witch. Even two hundred, if I take really good care of myself. If the man I'm falling for is ten years older than me, when I'm forty, he'd be fifty. If he is thirty years older than me, when I'm eighty, he'll be a hundred and ten...but he'll still have a good forty more years of life in him, at that point. Age is a matter of the mind...you always cautioned me, Dad, to not give in to the whims of an immature adolescent. And I haven't. I've held out for a man who is mature and intelligent, with plenty of self-control, patience, and loads of respect for me. Be happy for me that I've found all of that, and more in a good man."

"No man is good enough for my daughter," her father asserted. "I won't countenance this relationship!"

"Jeffrey!" Rachel protested.

"Well, they're not good enough! No man will ever be good enough for you, Hermione. Certainly not a man I've never met. I want to see him before I'll allow you date him!"

Severus felt Hermione draw a deep, self-controlling breath, her arms tensing briefly around him.

"...With all the love and respect you are due as my father," she stated quietly, calmly, pleasing the cat in her arms, "that is no longer your decision to make. It hasn't been, for nearly two years. And until you come down off of that rather tall saddle you're perched upon, and calm down...to the point where you're reasonable...I'm not going to introduce you to him. It is my decision, not yours. I realize you may have misgivings about my ability to make a wise decision, but then we haven't been around each other very much, this last year. I grew up while I was away, Dad. All little girls grow up, sooner or later; I just happen to be one of the 'sooner'."

The cat in her arms squirmed, stretched up...and licked her on the nose. Startled, Hermione wrinkled her nose and looked down, into his black eyes. He held her gaze and did it again, making her laugh.

"...Thanks, Puss." Rumpling his ruff, she looked back up at her parents. "I am an adult, a woman, a grown-up. However you want to call it, I am it. You did a good job in raising me, in teaching me how to be independent, to make good choices, to think for myself. To accept that my decisions come with consequences, and to accept those consequences. To be responsible, thoughtful, and compassionate, as well as practical. Be proud of all of that. I had you to look up to, as my examples, and I know that I'm proud of you. Now, as the auctioneers have cleared out the basement, I have things I'll need to do to it, while it's still empty."

"What sort of things?" Jeffrey asked his daughter.

"I'm turning it into a workroom and laboratory, and I'll need to ward and enchant it for various things before I can work down there." She smiled at them, cuddling Puss a little closer. "I've come up with a new product for the wizarding world, something that will help revolutionize the packaging of our version of over-the-counter medications and such. I expect the patent money should be quite good when I sell the idea to the mediwizard community, plus the income from the potions and such themselves that I'll be brewing. As you can see, I've not only a home of my own, I have a career already planned."

"But...what about your social life?" Rachel asked. "Are you going to spend all of your time down in the basement of this place, with no company but for your cats?"

She didn't quite control the rolling of her eyes, but she did hide most of it by closing her eyelids for a moment. Sighing, Hermione replied, "Mum, I told you. I'm engaged to a fellow. I'm quite sure that he'll pop up from time to time, and even take me out once in a while, or I'll take him out, to make sure that we both have a social life outside of these walls. And I'm quite sure that Ron and Harry will continue to pop in on me. And that I'll be invited to the Burrow for supper once in a while, and that I'll be coming home from time to time to dine with the two of you as well. Honestly, this isn't the Regency Era; I'm neither a bluestocking for being so ruddy smart and book-learned, nor a spinster for living on my own with two cats!"

From the looks on her parents' faces, Hermione thought she was finally getting through to them. Nodding cordially, she freed an arm from cat-Severus and hugged each of her parents in turn.

"Now, don't you worry a thing about me. Worry about getting good auction prices at Sotheby's. Remember, you'll have to pay the sales as well as inheritance tax after that." Kissing her mum and dad on the cheek, Hermione saw them to the front door, waving as they left in their car, ready to follow the lorry filled with artifacts.

As soon as they were gone and the front door closed, Severus jumped down from her arms, Transfiguring back into his human form. Hermione, caught in the act of turning away from the door, found her shoulders bumping into the panel as he crowded her into it, dark and insistent. Bracing his palms on the panel to either side of her, Severus leaned in and kissed her, as a reward for her eloquent description and defence of him.

Expecting her to stiffen up a little from the suddenness of his attack, Severus found himself wrapped in her arms. She pulled him closer, encouraging his whole torso to press her bodily into the door with a hand at the nape of his neck and another at the small of his back. That pressed his loins into her lower abdomen. He liked that; in their previous sessions, they hadn't quite gotten this graphic in their interactions. Not since that first time on her bed. He deepened his kiss in reward, one hand cupping her head, the other caressing her ribs until he could cup her breast.

Ohhh, and there go her fingers at the nape of my neck... The kneading sensation sent prickling shivers of pleasure down his spine and out along his limbs, raising goose-spots under his trousers and shirt. He echoed it with the fingers brushing over her curves.

Hermione inhaled, pressing her breast further into his caress. Her thighs parted at a nudge from one of his knees. That allowed him to twist his hips and stoop a little, rubbing the hardness of his erection against her pelvic mound. It wasn't in the right spot for her own enjoyment, though the muffled sound that escaped him proved it was something he seemed to like.

Gathering her boldness, Hermione lifted her thigh, hooking it up over the bony edge of his hip. He groaned into her mouth at that, shifting his hand from her breast to her buttock. Stooping a little more at the same time, he hitched his hips into hers, rubbing her groin into the flesh between her legs. That hit the right spot. It hit the right spot so much that she shuddered and broke their kiss, dropping her head back against the hardwood of the front door.

Severus lifted his head quickly. Examining her in concern, he realized her open mouth and closed eyes revealed a state of bliss. Experimentally, he nudged up into her again. She shuddered a second time, this time with a slight buck of her hips. He liked that, himself. Enough that the goose-spots came back.

"Hermione," he breathed, rocking into her a third time. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyelids opened, showing brown eyes that were dazed. A fourth press of his hardened loins into her softness focused her gaze on his. Here he was, loin-to-loin with this lovely young woman, and the most intimate part of it was sharing his awareness of it with her, eye-to-eye.

His hips twitched and flexed of their own volition. Severus felt her fingers clutching his body at his action. Her gaze unfocused just a little bit, too. Instinct had him rocking into her again, picking up a lascivious rhythm. Here she was, embracing him, not just permitting him to thrust against her in fully clothed frottage, but actively encouraging him with the kneading of her fingers, and clearly enjoying the rub of his hardness against her intimate flesh.

He wanted to strip her naked, to thrust into her soft, undoubtedly tight folds, to claim her primitively, primally. Breathing heavily, rhythmically through parted lips, Severus ground himself against her. Touching himself in the one place he had privacy, the shower, wasn't quite the same as her touching him so willingly as this, even if this glorious moment was mere frottage. When she flexed her own hips, circling them when he ground into her on the next stroke, pleasure spiked up through his body, searing him from shaft to scalp.

That familiar feeling swept up through him, but this time, it was unbearably private, indescribably intimate. In previous encounters, he hadn't felt nearly this vulnerable. Unable to continue looking into her eyes, but unwilling to pull away, Severus buried his face in the curve of her throat, hiding his expressions from the world. One hand had wormed its fingers into her upswept curls; the other had wrapped its arm around her back, clutching at her buttocks.

Grinding up into her, he held back as long as he could. She seemed to respond best to a rubbing motion, so he clamped her hips in place with his right arm and flexed his body back and forth just so... A cry escaped her, ragged and surprised, accompanied by a bucking shudder of her whole frame. Her fingers clawed at his back, spasmed against his muscles, scratched at his skin through the crisp cotton of his shirt.

Picturing this was how she would react if he were actually inside her, Severus loosed the lightning within his own body, groaning into the shelter of her throat with his release. Wetness pulsed into his undertrousers, sticking to his lower belly in a warm mess. He kept rocking into her, softening gradually, afraid to lift his head, embarrassed to face her awareness of his vulnerability where she and this moment were concerned. He tried to will the world to stay at bay.

Awareness seeped back into his passion-drugged wits anyway. Her hand shifted from his back to his hair. Gently, her hand stroked his dark locks, while the other soothed the trembling muscles of his shoulders. Slowly, warily, he allowed himself to relax into her, to permit her to continue to touch and to soothe him. It wasn't often that Severus let down his guard with anyone, but he was cautiously willing to try with her.

Hermione could still feel the thrumming energies of her orgasm zinging through her bones, shimmering through her veins. She was blushingly aware of his own climax, could still feel him pressing up into her with less of the hardness to his flesh than had been there before. The leg that she had wrapped around his hip, giving him enough access to thrust and rub against her, now trembled with strain, as did the leg she was still standing upon. Lovemaking...however fully clothed this version might have been...clearly used muscles she was unaccustomed to exercising.

His nose was still buried in the curve of her throat; his nose, his forehead, his lips...she noticed his lips because he pressed them against her flesh in a soft, almost ephemeral salute. Torn between not wanting the intimate closeness of their bodies to end, and the threat of spasms in her thigh-muscles, Hermione reluctantly lowered her right leg, returning her foot to the floor. That eased their loins apart; with it came a silent exhalation against her throat, just a puff of his breath that warmed her skin. With what she hoped was regret, Severus eased himself upright, though he kept his chin next to her ear, preventing her from seeing his face just yet. No doubt he was as shaken by their moment as she was.

It took Hermione a moment to realize why she couldn't quite balance right. It wasn't just her trembling legs. It was her toes as well. Unable to help herself, a soft laugh escaped her. The very masculine body still wrapped in her embrace stiffened slightly. Intuition warned Hermione that he was on the verge of misinterpreting her mirth.

"I think," she offered, tilting her head up so that she could murmur in his ear, "that we have definitely solved our little challenge from earlier."

"...Challenge?" Severus asked her warily. He couldn't see her face, and that was a drawback, but until he knew what she meant, he didn't feel quite safe enough to let her see his expression before he had mastered his emotional response to their quasi-coupling.

"You know...to see if your kiss could curl my toes? You win," Hermione admitted, her lips parting in a grin. He pulled his head back, staring down at her with dark, inscrutable eyes; she beamed up at him, unafraid of his self-protectiveness. "Totally curled. I guess I have to do the next batch of laundry, don't I?"

It took Severus only a fraction of a moment to remember their silly bet, interrupted by the tragedy of hearing about her aunt's death, and forgotten in the ensuing turmoil that news had engendered. But he remembered it now...and he remembered the agreed-upon prize he would win, if he managed to successfully curl her toes. Conflict tore through him: on the one hand, his body voted for claiming his prize with more vigor than he should have possessed right after such a satisfying climax, demanding instant gratification and a continuation of their interactions. On the other hand, he truly didn't want to rush her into his bed. Of course, there was the problem that he didn't really have an official bed of his own, just one of the overgrown cottage's guest-beds that he was borrowing. And the problem that she was still a ten-feet-tall-flamingly-lettered virgin.

Oddly enough, it was that side-thought that made up his mind. Managing a smile, small but genuine enough, Severus caressed the edge of her jaw. "I'll collect my reward soon enough. But first, I think we still have a bit of rearranging ahead of us, to claim this house as our home."

Flushing with pleasure at that smile, Hermione nodded. "Yes, the basement needs to be warded against Muggle detection, and perhaps against Plottability, not to mention vents and filters installed, and shields to contain any possible potions accidents or explosions. Then there's the sizeable hearth with a Floo connection that will need to be added..."

Severus silenced her with a finger placed over her lips. "I was also thinking of the master bedroom. It needs to be cleared, perhaps redecorated, and definitely a new and more suitable bed purchased. After living in a drafty castle, I have grown...attached to beds with draperies. Curtains which can be embroidered with runes designed for protection and privacy...and quiet." He hesitated again, then forced himself to add honestly, "I am uncertain how far I will be able to make myself go, in showing you public affection. I suspect I was infected with Gryffindor bravado in Minerva's presence, the day we kissed in front of her. Either that, or I simply transmuted the...the passion of our argument into another sort. But I do wish to be much more open in my feelings for you in private, once we get that far into this relationship."

Nodding, Hermione could guess how hard it was for him to admit that much; his voice was the softest she had heard it in a long time. The more time they spent together, the more the two of them seemed willing to invest in the relationship between them; it was heartening to know he wasn't backing away from that, emotionally shy though he might be. Certainly not as physically shy as he could have been, given he was looking into her eyes steadily despite having rubbed both of them into an orgasm. She blushed at the lingering memory of what they had just done, but let it and his steady regard warm her from the inside out.

"So long as we talk to each other...share thoughts and ideas, and take each other's thoughts and opinions into consideration," she offered, looking up into his dark gaze, "I think we can go quite far, in this relationship. But...as my parents said, we do need social interaction. Both of us."

"It won't be easy. Saliva is the least that will be flung at me," Severus muttered, looking away, looking down. He stared at nothing for a long moment, then returned his gaze to at her. "Do not fool yourself, Hermione. I will never be fully accepted by the wizarding community. By some of it, maybe. By half of it, I could hope. By most of it...that would take a miracle nearly as great as the defeat of the Dark Lord himself. But never by all of it." Black eyes held brown in a steady, matter-of-fact regard. "Socially, I am anathema to most of that world. We would be more successful to venture into the Muggle realm...yet that would leave us isolated from wizarding society and constantly on our guard against being uncovered as wizard and witch.

"I should let you go," he whispered, his voice dropping too low and quiet for vocalization. "My conscience demands it, if you are to have any sort of viable social life...but I find my chest aches uncomfortably when I think of doing it...trust someone as brilliant and tenacious as you to find what I didn't think could exist."

Hermione knew what he meant. Lifting her hand, she touched his chest, flattened her palm over the faint but steady thump beneath his ribs. "You do have a heart, Severus. You have always had one. You gave it to help save the wizarding world, when you swore that Unbreakable Vow with Albus Dumbledore. I suspect it hurts so much because you didn't expect to live long enough to get it back, and aren't used to feeling your emotions with it so close to your soul, anymore."

His lip curled up on one side in a sneer, but she guessed from his words that it was self-directed. "Our world continually debates as to whether or not I still have one of those, as well."

"You have one," she reassured him, curving her own lips in a smile. Her other hand touched her own sternum, pressing at the spot just above the curve of her breasts. "I can feel both of them in here. Curled up like the sort of homeless cat one finds in a back alley. Starved for love and affection like an alley-cat is starved for shelter and food." Sliding her fingers up to the underside of his chin, Hermione rubbed his jaw much like she would have rubbed him in his cat-form. "If I can take you into my heart and my home as a cat, I can just as easily keep you in my heart and my home as a man. In our home."

"Our home," he found himself agreeing. In a way, it wasn't fair that she could use his vulnerability to her touch against him. In a way, it was perfectly alright. Severus hadn't know just how starved for gentle physical contact he had been, all these years. Not that he could have indulged; the war had indeed forced himself to push everyone away. "The war is over, and I find I have survived. But that isn't quite enough. I need... I want to learn how to live," Severus corrected himself. He could feel the dampness in his clothes beginning to dry, knew he needed to clean himself and focus on the tasks ahead of them, but this discussion was important. "If I could be a different man...take on a different identity, a different name, it would be vastly easier. But I cannot. Are you strong enough to stay with me, to stand beside me?"

She smirked. "Severus, if I can stand beside Harry and help him take down Voldemort...oh, stop flinching! It's only a name, now," she chided him. "If I can stand beside Harry and help him take down Moldie-butt, and survive, then I can stand beside you and take on the rest of the wizarding world. I could even go marching out to the Burrow right now and tell them all to either accept the fact that I'm engaged to you, or to respectfully stuff it, if you like."

"One step at a time, if you please," Severus quickly cautioned her. "Allow some time to pass between the war's end and our relationship being revealed. Let Minerva continue her campaign to clear my name. Let Potter be forced to speak from the truth rather than from his rage, whenever he must discuss my name around the others. Let their anger grow thin and old. And let us get this place warded first against unwanted intrusion, before we start announcing to all and sundry that we are together," he added, glancing at the walls of the entryway. "I would rather have a safe place to retreat to, if time and the distancing of memory cannot calm the reactions of others.

"Let us make this place our sanctuary. Once we are safe here, we can venture out there."

Hermione nodded. "You're right. We should have a sanctuary for both of us. I don't think the Weasleys would think well of my sanity, at least until they've had their own memories dimmed by time and distance...and the patient application of a two-by-four to their heads that's been deeply inscribed with the truth of your role in the war."

"Make it a four-by-four, 'lest it should break too soon. I taught most of them, and I assure you, Weasleys have very thick heads," he muttered.

Glaring in mock-outrage, Hermione pinched him. He jumped, scowled, and pinched her back. Hermione switched to tickling him...and startled a laugh and a squirm out of him. Her eyes widened in surprise, while his narrowed in wariness. She tried to give him an innocent look, but couldn't suppress the smile on her lips. Giving her a haughty look worthy of his feline side, he turned away, heading for the stairs.

"Start mapping out illusions of the workspace layout we'll need, in the basement. We'll discuss the bedroom layout afterward. I'll join you as soon as I've showered."

"Why are you going to take a shower, all of a sudden?" Hermione asked him, following him to the foot of the staircase. "Not that I'm complaining, mind, but I'm rather puzzled. You showered this morning already, and I'm not asking you to shower twice a day, if it's not absolutely necessary."

He had hoped to get away without mentioning this crassly, but it seemed his betrothed was as tenacious in the pursuit of knowledge as ever. Swinging around to face her, Severus arched one of his brows. Dignity was difficult to maintain in the face of her curiosity and the bluntness of the subject. "Hermione...I just frotted the two of us into blissful happiness against the front door."

Her smirk came back, this time laced with feminine smugness. "Yes, I know. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Unfortunately, there is more of a side-effect for the man, in such circumstances, than there is for the woman."

That made her frown in puzzlement. "Come again?"

Cheeks heating at her inadvertent pun, he forced himself to explain. "I have...spent...in my trousers."

Her face flamed with embarrassed comprehension. "Oh."

Severus nodded, closing his eyes briefly. "Yes. Considering the substance in question has a tendency to dry into a consistency not unlike Muggle grammar-school glue, I need to remove it soon."

"Oh." She thought about that, long enough for him to turn back around and mount four more steps. "...Can I watch? I mean, watch you shower?"

He twisted quickly to face her, heart pounding behind his sternum. That was an unexpectedly bold request. About to deny her, Severus found he couldn't quite disappoint the shy yet lascivious curiosity apparent in her red-faced regard. "...I suppose so. But only watch. For now. And only if you agree to return the favor, and allow me to watch you bathe as well. It would only be fair."

"Just...watch?" she wanted to confirm.

"I am still trying to respect you, and take this thing between us at a slow and manageable pace," he reminded her.

"Of course. Um...alright. I'm due for a shower tomorrow; you can watch me then," Hermione agreed as nonchalantly as she could. Her heart was trying to imitate a hummingbird's wings, but she thought she managed to come across worldly enough to hide her trepidation and her excitement.

"Then come. You have already seen me bathe as a cat," Severus managed to state calmly, hiding his uncertainties. He knew what he looked like, compared to what was popularly thought attractive. But he also knew he couldn't spend the rest of his life clothed in her presence. It would be better to see her reaction...and any possible disappointment...when he wasn't under a concomitant pressure to perform some act of intimacy with his body. "...You might as well see me bathe as a man."

Heart in her throat, Hermione followed him up the stairs.