Chapter 08

VIII.

...

The doorbell rang, halfway through supper. Severus and Hermione exchanged looks, then Hermione pushed back from the table. Setting aside his napkin, Severus followed her. At the front door, she peered out through the spy-hole to see who was there. A rough sigh escaped her.

"It's the twins."

"Ten to one, their second-youngest sibling decided to sic them upon us," Severus muttered. "Do you want me to stay on two feet, or shift to four?"

Hermione twisted to face him as the twins rang the doorbell again. "You know what? I'm not going to hide you. I have no reason to hide your presence in my life, and I am not going to hide you. I'm also not going to talk about you to any nosy-parkers that come poking around. You're my business, not theirs."

Turning back to the door, she unlatched and opened it. Fred and George Weasley stood on the other side, looking fairly normal in Muggle jeans and teeshirts, though George's had an advertisement in red on white for their store, and Fred's had a big lipstick mark and the words Give Us A Kiss, Love printed in red on black. They started to smile at her, then glanced past her and lost their smiles.

"So, it's true," George stated, staring at their former professor. "Little Brother wasn't exaggerating."

"Why is he here?" Fred asked Hermione. His tone wasn't quite hostile, nor outright belligerent, but it was definitely confused and none too happy.

"He was invited. If you would like to come in, I will have to insist that you behave and be polite while on the premises," Hermione forewarned the twins, before holding the door wide. "But...you are welcome to come in. Just behave yourselves."

Knowing the admonition to behave and be polite was something he should also heed, Severus resisted the urge to frown at the twins. Mindful of what they had interrupted, he dredged up some manners. "We had just sat down to supper, but there is enough extra if you wish to join us."

"'Us'?" George questioned. "What do you mean, 'us'? As in, you and Hermione, that kind of 'us'?"

"What would you have him say?" Hermione countered. "Severus and I are in the middle of sharing a meal, and enjoying an intelligent conversation. Now, if you can contribute to the intelligent conversation aspect, you are welcome to join us. If you're just going to keep questioning the proper use of pronouns, I suggest you head on back to Ron...oh, and did he tell you what he did to earn being thrown out of this house, earlier?"

The twins exchanged wary looks. Fred shook his head slowly. "No, he didn't. He just went on a bender about Snape being here, and wanting to go to the Aurors to report the possibility of you being under the influence of mind-altering potions."

"How ironic," Severus said, drawing the others' attention back to him. "Considering it was he who attempted to use a mind-altering potion on her not too long ago. A potion from your own shop, no less."

"You told him about that?" George hissed at Hermione, jerking a thumb at Severus.

Hermione hadn't known at the time that Puss was Severus, but she recalled quite clearly his reactions around Ron, both during and after the incident with the Love Philtre. "He knows. In fact, he knows quite a lot...which is one of the reasons why I was enjoying a very good conversation with him over a meal, one which is now growing cold."

Fred, still frowning, looked at Hermione again. "You said you threw Ron out of here, earlier. What was that all about?"

"He entered the cottage without being invited, heard someone in the shower upstairs, and snuck into my bedroom, stripped himself naked, and sprawled himself on my bed, without my permission. Whereupon he started to wank himself," Hermione added disdainfully. "No doubt thinking that I'd be happy to find an uninvited, unclothed intruder on my bed, rather than appalled, dismayed, and even disgusted...and if you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss his state of being any further, because the memory of it is putting me off my meal."

"Hey, he's not a bad-looking bloke," Fred told her.

"I know he isn't, Fred; there's lots of witches out there who would be more than happy to find him naked on their beds," Hermione agreed readily. "It's just that I don't find him attractive, and I don't want to find him naked and uninvited on my bed ever again!"

"You will have to date someone, at some point in your life," George reminded her. "You can't stay a single woman forever."

That irritated Hermione, the assumption that she had to get married, that she couldn't have a fulfilling life without a man in her life. But before she could finish wincing, while she was still deciding just how badly to lambaste the redheaded entrepeneur, Severus stepped into their breach.

"That is a rather unenlightened attitude, Mr. Weasley. This isn't the nineteenth century. Witches are every bit as equal as wizards...they always have been. I see no reason why she should have to have a male in her life, just to be happy. If she wants one in her life, then yes, she could have one," he stated. "But if she doesn't want one, then she doesn't need one. A person's happiness is not dependent upon being in a relationship, but rather upon the quality of one's life, and in being free to enjoy a variety of relationships, including friendships and family."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, recovering her breath. "Besides, what Ron wants in a wife, I cannot and will not provide for him...I cannot even hold a conversation with him without it devolving into an argument! Trying to get him to talk about Arithmancy, Charms, or Potions is like trying to sit him down long enough for me to pull out one of his teeth! You, I could sit down and chat with about those things. Severus, I could sit down and chat with, too. But Ron? He has his mind on chess, Quidditch, sex, and becoming an Auror. And not necessarily in that order."

"But...him," George protested, gesturing at Severus. "Why him?"

"Why not?" she countered. "I have far more in common with him than I do with Ron. With Ron, I have our years at Hogwarts and our various experiences in fighting Voldemort. It's enough to be friends, and I'm willing to stay friends, but it's not enough for a real relationship. You can't plan for your future when the most of what you have in common is your past. It's a sad thing to realize, but there it is."

"Ron thinks you have something in common worth pursuing," Fred said.

"Ron is pursuing me because I turned him down. I'm 'the one who got away'," Hermione quoted. "He has more in common with Lavender than with me. She likes chess, Quidditch, Care of Magical Creatures, and snogging with Ron. I care for him as a friend, but she cares for him as something more than that. And since he deserves someone who can care for him as far more than just a friend, I'd rather see him trying to date her than wasting his time with me."

"Which leads us back to the question of why him?" George said, poking his thumb at their ex-professor. "Why is he here? And I don't mean for supper and a conversation. Ron was saying something about him being naked, earlier."

"Actually, he was wrapped in a towel earlier, having just gotten out of the shower," Hermione countered. "Which was a lot more than your brother was wearing. Ron mistakenly assumed that I was the one in the shower."

"Yes, but why were you in Hermione's shower in the first place?" Fred asked, glancing between the two of them before settling on Snape.

"Because I had made a mess, and wished to get clean. I had just stepped out and dried off when I heard her give a startled shout. I thought it more prudent to investigate what was wrong immediately, rather than waste my time by getting dressed," Severus said.

Hermione did her best not to blush at his words, given what that mess had been, and how they had made it. She faced the twins coolly. "Any other questions, or may we return to our supper?"

"What kind of mess?" Fred asked, ignoring her comment.

Severus glanced at Hermione, weighing how much to admit. "Hermione has inherited this cottage from her late aunt. We had just finished clearing out the basement, which we plan to renovate into a potions laboratory."

"Severus and I are going into business together," Hermione explained at the twins' bemused looks. "Each of us has different areas of strength, and by working together, we figure we could make more money together than we could by working apart."

A thought crossed Severus' mind. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then turned and gestured down the hall, toward the kitchen and its breakfast nook, which would just be big enough for the four of them. "...Why don't you gentlemen join us? Some of our impending projects might be adaptable to your own business. Hermione has some innovative ideas in the realm of packaging, and I think she should pick your brains. A collaboration between our two enterprises might prove suitably profitable."

George eyed him askance. "You would be willing to work with us?"

"But, you said our Weasley Wizard Wheezes were literally a joke," Fred added. "And you didn't mean it in a good sense."

"In fact, you turned us down, when we came to you with ideas for improving our product line," George finished. "Now you want to help us?"

"You were still at Hogwarts, and I was still living a lie. As a spy, I couldn't allow anyone to think I was favoring and helping the sons of Order members. I had to tread a very fine line, in case anyone else on our side turned out to be a spy for the other side...or need I remind you how the Potters lost their lives, thanks to someone they thought was a friend? But the war is now over," Severus told them, "and I am now free to live whatever life I may choose. Right now, I choose to finish my supper. Come, or go. Either way, do not linger on the doorstep."

With some of his old, peremptory, professorial air, he turned and headed down the hall without glancing back. Hermione glanced at the twins. "I agree. Either come with us and be ready to talk business, or take yourselves off and leave. I'd like to finish my own supper, too. Which is what I am going to go do, now."

Fred and George exchanged a long look. Hermione shrugged and passed between them, leaving them to let themselves out. To her relief...well, somewhat of a relief...they followed her. It would be a complete relief if they could actually stop their badgering about her relationship with Severus and his presence in her home, and concentrate instead on business matters.

...

"...And then the cauldron exploded, and the whole batch was ruined! Of course, George, here, got splashed with it," Fred said as his twin blushed and grinned. Hermione laughed, and even Severus chuckled. "He not only developed the bosom of a woman, but he also had purple hair! Eyelashes, knuckle-hairs, the whole works!"

"I looked like Tonks, only with freckles," George admitted wryly.

"...And much uglier!" Fred added. All of them had a good chuckle at George's expense, even the wizard himself.

"You must have mis-picked the fluxweed, and then boiled it in the hippogriff tears, rather than simmered it, to have your hair turn purple," Severus offered.

George eyed him askance. "...How did you know, and just like that?" He snapped his fingers, then gestured between his twin and himself. "It took us two weeks to figure out what the problem was."

Hermione reached across the table, covering Severus' hand with her own. "Because he's a genius when it comes to potions."

Severus flushed and carefully avoided eye-contact with anyone. About to say something, Fred's gaze fell on their hands. He frowned softly at Hermione. "Oy, is that a ring on your hand?"

George leaned closer, nudging Severus' arm. "And isn't that sitting on her ring finger?"

"You mean, on her engagement finger?" Fred corrected his twin. Both of them looked at Hermione, whose cheeks were a little pink, and just like that, the conversation deteriorated from business back to relationships again. Fred shook his head. "Don't tell me you've up and agreed to get married?"

"No, we did not," Severus replied calmly, coolly. George let out a sigh of relief...only to choke when his former teacher added blandly, "We agreed to get engaged."

"We won't agree to get married until we know we can stand each other for long stretches of time," Hermione explained. "It's quite logical, really. Too many people rush into marriage, and then find themselves having to rush right out again, when they wake up and realize they have nothing in common with each other, once the hormones have worn off."

Silence followed her words, until George sat back in his seat with a slow, thoughtful nod. "...Like you and Ron. I remember listening to the two of you, back at the Gryffindor table. Most of the time, it was either him going on about Quidditch, or it was you nagging him to do his homework. Not exactly the sorts of conversations that would lead to marital bliss, in the long run. Either you'd drive each other mad, or drive each other into sullen silence."

Fred nodded sharply. "Exactly. And yet here we've been sitting for the last...forty minutes, was it? The two of you have chatted with both us and each other about six different subjects, if not more, and I didn't even notice it was for forty whole minutes until now."

Exchanging a look with his twin, George nodded and sat up again. "...That settles it. Whatever Ickle Ronnikins says about the two of you being all wrong together, from now on out, we're going to ignore him."

"Now, we're not as prejudiced as a lot of people are, regarding you," Fred added to Severus. "We've always admired your abilities in the classroom, even as we disliked how strict you were, and hated the whole Slytherin-favoring thing. But you'll run up against some resistance, aside from Ron. And yet she's right; you're one of the best brewers we've ever seen. You're as smart as Hermione, here, and that's saying quite a lot."

"A right genius," George agreed. "And if what Minerva's said about you is true, about you agreeing to be a spy for our side from Day One, then you're twice as brave as any Gryffindor we've ever seen."

"Twice as ambitious, not twice as brave," Severus corrected them. "It wasn't a matter of courage. I was merely determined to end the racial prejudice between wizards and Muggles. It was bad enough..."

His voice trailed out and he looked away. Hermione, her hand still covering his, gently stroked his skin with her thumb. "What was bad enough?"

Her gentle question warred with the twins' presence. Debating silently, Severus finally ploughed ahead. "It was bad enough seeing my father's Muggle prejudice against my mother, just for being magical. For us to turn on our own kind, just for being born...

"We don't choose to be born this way. We just are, whoever our parents may be. Even then, I could see that Muggle-borns were just as magical as Purebloods and Half-Bloods. In fact," Severus added, warming to the subject, "in all my years of teaching, I could see that some were just as weak, and some were just as mediocre, and some were just as powerful. The only thing Muggle-borns lack is knowledge of the wizarding world. Once they are educated, they are every bit the equal of their wizarding-world-raised contemporaries...you take a Pureblood like Potter, someone with both a witch and a wizard for parents, stick him into the Muggle world as an infant, and he'll know as little coming into Hogwarts as any Muggle-born by birth, despite the so-called purity of his blood."

"Or know even less, if that Muggle-born is our Hermione," George added, giving her a smile.

"...I never knew you felt that way, Snape," Fred told his ex-professor.

"You weren't supposed to. And...even I succumbed now and again to the prejudices of my peers, while growing up," Severus admitted reluctantly, before adding curtly, "Everyone makes mistakes, in the course of their life."

"The important thing is to learn when you are wrong, to admit it, and to make reparations for any harm your mistakes may have made," Hermione said, squeezing his hand gently. "Not to mention doing what is right, in the end."

A rap on the window at the back of the breakfast nook startled everyone. Severus and Fred snatched for their wands, while George peered through their reflections on the glass. "Oi! Speak of purple hair and a great pair of breasts, and the she-devil herself will appear! You have a back door into this place, 'Mione?"

"Watch your language, George," Hermione admonished him. Rising from the table, she moved around to the mudroom. Inside the smallish room, which was designed for boots and coats to be donned or removed in inclement weather, stood the back door. Unlocking it, she let Tonks step inside. The Metamorphmagus didn't have purple hair, though she was wearing a purple shirt. Instead, she had denim-blue hair, to match her jeans.

"Wotcher, 'Mione. Hate to barge in on you like this, but Ron's going on about illegal potions or somethin', and how th' twins hadn't come back, yet, and he was demandin' someone go have a look. So I thought, why bother the Ministry when I could just pop 'round for him, off the record?" Tonks added, though she didn't sound to happy about it. "I'll admit I didn't give him much credence, until I saw Snape in the window just now. Erm...not that I think he's gone and dosed you with somethin', mind. Just that I should check it out thoroughly, so I can go back and tell Ron to bugger off. 'Zat alright with you?"

Ron, Hermione decided, is definitely going to pay for this...

"I am not under the influence of a potion," she stated flatly, carefully keeping the lid on the bubbling cauldron of her temper. "Nor a charm, nor a talisman, nor an amulet, nor a rune. I am definitely not under the influence of the Imperius Curse, nor am I being forced into Severus Snape's company via blackmail, or being forced by any other method, magical or Muggle. Severus Snape is not going to go to Azkaban, just because I have chosen to spend time with him over Ron...though I might end up going, if I ever get my hands on that freckled idiot!"

"Sorry...but think of it this way; if I question the two of you as an Auror, and make sure it's all on the up-and-up, there's nothing he can do about it except swallow down th' truth," Tonks offered.

"Fine. Come inside." Holding the door, Hermione bit her lip as Tonks tripped on the step leading up out of the mudroom. The Auror caught herself on the edge of the door, then waved half-heartedly at the three gentlemen around the corner. Hermione waited impatiently for her to clear the kitchen door, but the older witch lingered there.

"Wotcher, Gred, Forge...Snape."

"Hey, Tonks!"

"What's up, Tonks?"

"Nymphadora. Good evening."

Giving up, Hermione gave Tonks a push from behind. The often-clumsy Auror lurched further into the kitchen, allowing the younger witch enough room to enter. Stepping around the blue-haired woman, Hermione gestured at the table. "As you can see, we were all just enjoying a pleasant supper together. All four of us. I'm sure the twins would be happy to tell you I've been perfectly normal all evening long."

"What's this?" Fred asked Tonks. "Did Ickle Ronnikins send you out to see if Hermione's been magically bamboozled?"

"'Cause that's definitely not the case," George agreed. He flashed the Auror a teasing grin. "If anybody is acting all weird, it's Snape, here; our sweet little Hermione's gone and wrapped him around her finger, turning him into a veritable pussy-cat in her presence."

Unable to help himself, Severus smirked at the reference. He thought about scowling over the idea that he could be wrapped around anyone's finger, but the part about the puss was too accurate. He looked at Hermione and discovered she was smirking in his direction, equally amused by the inadvertent joke. A quick glance at Nymphadora Tonks showed the other witch was a little skeptical, but willing to play along.

"Mind if I sit in on the chat, then? To sort of witness it, firsthand?" Tonks asked them.

Sweeping a hand at his chair, Severus silently offered for her to sit in it. Tonks gave him a grin in thanks. As she did so, Hermione flicked her wand at the table, silently enchanting the dirty dishes to waft their way over to the dishwasher, which lowered its door at a second, equally silent command. Wordless magic was convenient at times, such as when one didn't want to interrupt a conversation, or the mood of a moment. Severus gestured for Hermione to take her seat, but she shook her head, and pulled back the chair for him.

A silent argument passed between them, with Hermione stubbornly refusing to budge. Giving in with a sigh, Severus sank down onto it...and hooked her around the hips with one arm, pulling her onto his lap. The twins looked away, all but whistling in their attempt to Not Notice, capital letters included, but Tonks watched avidly. Her currently blue eyes dropped to Hermione's arm, wrapped over the top of Severus' grip on her waist, and to the hand at the end of it.

"What's that, then? A ring?"

"They've agreed to be engaged," George filled her in, nodding at the couple seated together.

"But haven't yet agreed to be married," Fred completed. "Which is sensible, if you think about it."

"Oh, yes," George agreed, glancing at his twin, then at Severus and Hermione. He flashed them a grin. "I mean, we all know what a harridan Hermione is; he might not want to marry her, in the long run."

"But an honorable harridan," Fred admonished his sibling. "After all, she is giving Severus time to scream and run for it."

"I dunno," George said, shaking his head mock-sadly. "Some ladies can be rather bewitching even in the non-magical sense, when they put their minds to it. I think he's done-for, mate. Too late to save himself, and all that; once some witch has got her dainty little claws into you, that's it. You're hooked for life..."

Folding her arms under her breasts, Hermione fixed the redheaded, freckled wizards with equal shares of a mock-glare. "Has it ever occurred to you that he might have bewitched me in the non-magical sense, just by opening his mouth?" Glancing over at Tonks, she added, "Even you have to admit, the man's voice is like liquid sex, when he wants it to be."

For a moment, all Tonks could do was gape at the suggestion. Then she threw back her head and brayed with laughter. She rocked back and forth in her chair, snorting and choking for a few moments, then wheezed and wiped at her eyes, chuckling. "Oh, gods, that was funny! True, but funny...and to watch him just sit there and take it...!"

"Rest assured, I am contemplating my retaliation," Severus muttered.

"Mm, see what I mean?" Hermione teased, grinning. "That low voice is utterly scrumptious."

Fred and George's freckled faces burned with discomfort, but Tonks' cheeks pinked with a different sort of embarrassment. Fred cleared his throat. "Erm...please don't use the word 'scrumptious' in conjunction with Snape, in our presence."

"Please?" George added. "I mean...he's a bloke! Blokes aren't scrumptious."

Tonks giggled at that. "Oh, I don't know; us girls find certain blokes to be a bit scrumptious, at times..."

Both twins shuddered. With Hermione seated on his lap, her shoulder was just the right height for Severus to use as a chin-rest. It also allowed him to whisper into her ear. "Behave."

Twisting her head just a little, she whispered back, "No."

In retaliation, Severus shifted the hand around her waist, dropping it into her lap. Since she was seated with her legs slightly splayed, it was easy enough for him to slot it through the folds of her shorts, down between her thighs. She stilled for a moment, startled, and felt her cheeks beginning to burn. Desperate to distract the others, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Would anyone like some pudding? It's marble-cake, with fudge frosting. Nothing fancy, but I did toss a few walnuts into the batter when I made it."

"That'd be lovely," Tonks agreed. The twins added their enthusiasm.

Severus, flexing his fingers against Hermione's mound, smirked at the Auror. "I'm afraid we cannot serve you anything, Nymphadora. Nor offer you a drink. Someone might try to accuse us of having slipped you a potion that could have impaired your judgment while you were here."

Tonks grumbled under her breath at that, almost pouting.

A twitch of her arm thumped Severus in the bicep with her elbow. He grunted, and Hermione smiled. "...Never mind him, Tonks; I'll wrap you up a slice to take with you when you go. You can eat it after you've reported to that freckled idiot. Think of it as a delayed thank-you for putting up with all of this nonsense."

The blue-haired witch cheered up again at the suggestion. "That'll do nicely. Thanks."

Since she didn't think Severus would let her go, Hermione drew her wand and enchanted the cake, some forks, and a stack of dessert plates to come floating their way. Another swish dissected part of the round cake into even slices when its platter alighted on the table, and a third flick served the slices onto each plate. Fred took two, one each for George and himself. Hermione passed Severus a fork for his, and made sure the slice was within easy reach of his hand. She started to serve herself a slice as well, but he speared a piece of his cake and lifted it to her lips, distracting her.

It was a very intimate thing to do, for him, showing her public affection by seating her in his lap, then feeding her with his own hand. It would have been hands, except the other one was still snugged between her thighs, where he was definitely aware of the moist heat being generated by her body. Carefully, Hermione wrapped her lips around the tines of the fork, cautiously accepting his offering. He lowered it and cut another piece, doing his best to ignore the stares from the twins, and the speculative look from Tonks. Bringing it up to his own mouth, he chewed with his chin still resting over her shoulder, as if none of their three guests were actually there.

Fred gave him a wondering look. "Damn...no wonder you could fool old Moldiemort for all those years! Sitting there like you haven't a care in the world..."

The admiration in the wizard's freckled face soothed some of Severus' lingering resentment that his sacrifices had never really been appreciated by anyone outside of Albus, and maybe Minerva. Only some of his resentment, but it did soothe him. He permitted himself a small smirk as he carefully fed Hermione another piece of cake.

"So...erm...you haven't gone and fed either of each other any odd potions that you've made, or anything?" Tonks asked idly, awkwardly.

Severus answered, since Hermione had a mouthful of dessert. "No. We haven't even had a chance to set up our business facilities, yet."

"Any potions we've used have been commercially made ones for hygiene and such," Hermione added as soon as her mouth was clear. "You can check the bathroom cupboards, if you like."

"I'd take your word for it on my own and believe you, but if I don't actually check..." Tonks trailed off.

"If you do, it'll shut our baby brother's gob for sure," Fred finished for her.

Hermione nodded, giving in to the inevitable. "I'll show you around, prove we don't have a potions lab anywhere, and that we aren't trying to intoxicate each other behind each other's backs."

Tempted to hold her in place, reluctant to let his hand give up its very nice, warm haven, Severus permitted her to slide from his lap. As he did so, he allowed his hand to subtly pat her bottom. "Do not take too long, or we'll eat the rest of the cake."

"Do that, and there'll be no 'bath time' for you," Hermione retorted, blushing from the tingling in her bum.

Wisely, Severus let her go without saying another word.

Fred and George leaned closer as soon as the two women had left. George raised his brows. "'Bath time'?"

Ignoring them, Severus calmly ate another forkful of cake.

...

They were in the bathroom, discussing beauty products...Muggle versus wizarding...when Tonks asked, "So...have you kissed him?"

"Tonks!" Hermione stared at the Metamorphmagus, then narrowed her eyes into a glare. "That is none of your business."

Tonks shrugged, unfazed. "A girl's gotta ask. Besides, with that nose...well, I was thinkin' it would get in the way, y'know?"

"A good kisser is a good kisser, whether his nose is long or snub," Hermione retorted.

"So he's a good kisser, eh?" Tonks asked slyly.

Hermione blushed. "None of your business! And you won't be finding out first-hand, or...or..."

"Or what?" Tonks prodded.

"...Or I'll kiss Remus!" Hermione stated, sure that the Auror wouldn't go for that.

Sure enough, Tonks reacted as predicted. "Like bollocks, you will! Remmie is mine."

"Exactly. As Sevie is mine," Hermione said primly.

Tonks eyed her askance, then chuckled. "You're braver than any other Gryffindor I know. What if he heard you say that?"

"What, that he's mine?" the younger witch repeated. She lifted both hands, using one to point at the ring on the other. "Hello? We're engaged."

"No, I meant calling 'im 'Sevie'. Somehow, I don't think he'd go for that at all...which argues very strongly against you being under the Imperius Curse," Tonks joked.

"...And again, we're back to my wanting to strangle Ron," Hermione sighed. "How do I get him to back off, once and for all? We don't have anything in common, except for our school years, our adventures, and our friendship...and I refuse to try and build anything more than a friendship on just those few facts! He's not a thickie when it comes to academics, but he is on this one particular point! He isn't in my league as far as my hobbies and preferences go, and he isn't interested in being in my league. And I refuse to abandon or ignore my intellectual pursuits just to dumb myself down enough to date someone!

"If they can't keep up with me," she continued, letting out her feelings on the matter, "then I won't bother with them. I will instead go and find a man who can...and I have. Ronald is not stupid by even the wildest stretch of the imagination, but Severus has a vastly wider range of interests, just as I do. We don't agree on everything, and sometimes our discussions get rather heated, but Severus and I still respect each other even when we're yelling at each other. And we respect each other's right to have a differing opinion. Ron wants someone to think he's the king of the Quidditch pitch...and I don't even like Quidditch."

Sagging back against the bathroom counter, Hermione sighed roughly.

"...Ron's not an academic thickie; he passed his O.W.L.s with fairly good scores, much the same as everyone else. He's not a dunderhead. But when it comes to relationships, and what makes a good relationship...he's as thick as Thames mud." She sought for the words to explain the matter. "It's like...it's like he's wearing swim-fins. They're fine for whenever you want to go snorkeling and visiting the merfolk in the Hogwarts lake, even perfect for it, but unless you want to live underwater...and I don't...you don't wear them around the house, you don't walk in them to the green-grocer's, and you don't go dancing in a ballroom, flopping around! And the fact that he cannot understand that is all the more frustrating!"

"He's a freckled fish who thinks you should go swimming with him," Tonks agreed slowly. "Only you're a bird who likes to flit through the trees. You'll go diving into the water once in a while when you want a little variety in your supper, and that's when you'll meet and say hello, but you need to live most of your life on dry land. What you need to do is find a way t' show 'im he can't breathe air, and doesn't want t' breathe air, an' that you don't want t' breathe water, and cannot breathe water. Not for the rest o' your lives."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed.

"But you can't show him by telling him 'no, I can't breathe underwater'. He's a thickie when it comes to relationships, and he just won't believe you, because it's not what he believes," the Auror added wisely. "You need to find a way to make him realize that if he wants to keep pursuing you, he'll be a fish out of water, not a bird in it. Y'know...if you could get him into a conversation with you and Severus, and the two of you...you and 'Sevie', that is...go off on some obscure, high-browed tangent and have a rousingly good time of it, and sort of...well, shut him out because he can't keep up...and if you play it up a lot that you're having the time of your life interacting with Snape, and he's having the time of his life interacting with you...

"Well, at least it's a shot at pounding it through his head," Tonks offered, shrugging. "Maybe you can come up with something better."

"I don't know; it might work. I mean, if nothing else, it could show him that I'm happy when I'm with Severus," Hermione offered. "Certainly I'm happier with him than I've ever been with Ron."

Tonks asked, "...Are you? Happy with 'im, I mean?"

"Very," Hermione confirmed, smiling wistfully. Mainly because, as nice as their unexpected company had turned out to be, she wished she was still alone with him, tonight.

"Good...weird, but good," Tonks teased her. "Let's get back down to th' boys, shall we?"

...

"Thank god that's over," Severus muttered, closing the front door on their visitors. He flicked his wand, sealing the house in a variation of the Impeturbable Charm, then turned to face the hall. And found himself pressed back against the stout panel by an armful of Hermione. She looped her wrists around his neck, buried her fingers in his hair, and pulled him down into a warm kiss. Not a heated one, just a warm one. A thoroughly warm one.

Leaning back after a bit, she smiled up at him. "That's a thank-you for putting up with everyone tonight, and for not making a fuss."

Severus, his arms around her waist and his mind somewhat dazed, muttered, "...What do I get if I'm actively pleasant?"

She blushed and cleared her throat. "That, um, reminds me. I'd like to propose an idea to you."

Arching one of his brows, Severus waited for her to explain.

"Erm...well, I'd like to prove to Ron that he's just not my type. That I'm not his type. I'd like to invite him over for dinner and conversation," Hermione stated, and felt Severus stiffen in her arms. She touched his cheek, making sure he looked at her. "With you. I want us to engage in an absolutely fabulous, high-brow conversation, and, erm...shut him out, while showing him that I'm quite happy interacting with you.

"He is my friend and I do care for him as a friend. But I need to show him that he's a fish and I'm a bird, and I'm not going to spend the rest of my life submerging myself below the surface of the world in an attempt to be with him. He also needs to realize that a relationship with me would leave him a fish out of water, unable to keep up as I flit from topic to topic," she explained. "I don't want to hurt his feelings, because he'll just retreat into his own little underwater universe and refuse to believe I won't dive down to be with him, but I do need to show him I'm happiest flitting about up here with you."

The older parts of Severus suggested that being cruel to the boy would cause him to back down faster than this...display of conviviality. He couldn't invalidate her feelings, though. She was friends with the Freckled Idiot, and had been friends with him and the Boy Who Annoyed Him for a very long time. Even he knew such a long-term friendship wasn't something to be cast aside for a new lover. Accommodations and adjustments had to be made...on all sides.

Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers, thinking. Hermione had effectively shut down Harry Potter from ever being an arse toward him again. It was a pity she didn't have a similar life-debt between her and Ronald Weasley that she could call upon; it would have made things so much simpler. Their three names rattled around in his skull. Harry, Hermione, Ron. Ron, Harry, Hermione... A flash of insight reached him. Ron's sister, Ginevra Weasley. Ginny.

"Is...Harry," he managed to say politely as he opened his eyes, "still dating Miss Weasley?"

"Well, yes...sort of. I mean, she has to go back to Hogwarts for her seventh year in a couple of weeks, but yes. Why do you ask?" Hermione enquired.

He stared into the air past her shoulder, thinking aloud. "We need a third female. I believe he was dating Miss Brown for a while...no, she wouldn't do. We need a neutral third party. Someone who could bridge the gap between the two conversations. Someone smart enough to see what will be going on, and be able to confirm it. Someone Ron Weasley knows and has interacted with... There was a blonde handing around with you...a Ravenclaw...Miss Lovegood."

Hermione couldn't quite follow him. "What about Luna?"

"She's smart enough to interact with the two of us, yet convivial enough to get along with the other three," Severus stated. "We are going to have a house-warming party. A small one. You and I will host Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, and Miss Lovegood. Approach it under the direction that you're inviting...Harry and Ron...over to see the cottage, once we've finished moving in and decorating it, and that you're inviting Ginny and Luna as well.

"Don't even mention my name, and be vague and avoid the subject if one of them asks if I'll be present. Don't lie, but don't confirm it, either. Just tell them you wanted your best friends over for your first dinner-party in your new home, a cozy little group of close friends," he instructed her. "We don't want a lot of people. That would confuse the issue. But we do want witnesses to our...happiness together."

She was following along now, and nodded slowly. "If we can convince Tonks and the twins, we might be able to convince Ginny and Luna. With Harry geased to be pleasant, that'll be five-to-one. Of course, we might not be able to convince Ginny, but Luna's smart. Daft at times, but smart nonetheless. She'll go along. The only question remaining is if you'll be able to be convincingly pleasant."

That lowered his brows. "You lack faith in my abilities. I faked my way through twenty years of supposed loyalty to an incarnated demon."

"I'm not questioning your ability to act pleasant. I'm worried about whether or not they'll believe you're capable of being pleasant. And being fake isn't going to cut it. Not saccharine-fake, at any rate," she said. He drew breath to argue, and she quickly covered his lips with her fingertips. "I'm not saying you were saccharine around the Dark Lord; you couldn't have survived if you were. But he wasn't exactly the tea-and-biscuits sort, now was he? You didn't have to prove your loyalty by being tea-and-biscuits."

"More like lemon juice on an open wound," Severus muttered against her flesh, closing his eyes against the memories. That didn't work very well, so he opened them again, meeting her brown gaze as her fingers slipped from his lips. "...Fine. I shall tread the balance between the sour lemon they know, and the tea-and-biscuits of a happy man. But I will remind you of the reward you promised for this...effort...on my part."

"Reward?" Hermione questioned. "When did I mention a reward? Not that I wouldn't give you one, but..."

"At the very beginning of this conversation," Severus reminded her, resting his forehead against hers once more. "You gave me a reward for merely tolerating our unexpected guests. I wondered aloud what you would give me if I were actively pleasant, and you said that reminded you of an idea for inviting your best friends over for dinner. The implication being, I would be rewarded for being pleasant toward them. I wish to discuss my reward."

Hermione smirked. She almost said, How mercenary, like a Slytherin...but remembered she'd banned House affiliations between them. Instead, she threaded her fingers through the soft black locks at the nape of his neck, remembering how he had washed it under her watchful gaze earlier in the day. And how, with their positions reversed, he had given her such a good time against this very same door. "Alright. Let's discuss your reward. What do you think you'll deserve, after an evening of being pleasant and enjoyable?"

"If I try to be 'enjoyable' toward the others, they will never believe me," he reminded her.

"I meant, enjoyable toward me," she admonished lightly. "The object is to show them that you and I are well-suited to each other, and a better match for each other than anyone else. How would you like me to reward you?"

Several possibilities flitted through his mind. One of them involved their current position. Letting the corner of his mouth curl up, Severus admitted, "I believe I am growing rather fond of this door. You do seem to enjoy kissing me whenever we are near it."

"Like this?" she murmured, rising up on her toes so that she could press a kiss to his lips. He returned it, and another, and another. When she eased back onto her heels again, her smile was warm, feminine, and content. "Yes, I think I'm rather fond of this spot by the door, too. Would you like me to kiss you whenever you are near it, as your reward?"

Only the gleam of desire in his dark eyes kept his smirk from looking cruel. "Oh, no...kissing is only the start of my reward. A down-payment, as it were."

"Mercenary," she couldn't help muttering, though she smiled as she said it.

"I have half a lifetime's worth of service to others waiting to be rewarded," he told her quietly. Lifting hand to her upswept curls, he tucked a stray wisp behind her ear. "God Himself must have given you to me. You are..."

"I am...what?" Hermione asked him as he faltered.

Severus hesitated, swallowed, then lifted his chin slightly, arrogantly...defensively...and answered, "You are the only thing in this universe worthy enough as a recompense for all the suffering I have endured."

She melted inside. She couldn't help it; that was the most romantic thing Hermione had ever heard from anyone, least of all Severus 'Snarky' Snape. "Oh, Severus..."

"I'm...sorry," he stated stiffly, mistaking her use of his name. "I shouldn't have said that. I..."

"Nonsense. It was a very romantic thing to say."

"Hermione, I am not romantic!" he protested.

"I didn't that say you were romantic," she retorted. "I said that what you said was romantic."

That earned her a skeptical arch of one black brow. "Hermione, enough is enough. Even I know that if you say romantic things, you are romantic."

Hermione smirked at him. "Well, then, there you have it. You have said something romantic, ergo you are romantic. Hoisted on your own petard...you said it, Severus; I didn't!"

There was only one way to win this argument...which was to shut her up...and Severus took it. She didn't resist. In fact, she enthusiastically cooperated in her own silencing...if one didn't count the hungry little moans she made, arms twining around his neck like Devil's Snare when she mated her mouth more firmly to his.

...The small foyer by the front door was indeed a wonderful place to kiss.

...

When Hermione had first moved into her aunt's cottage, the neighbors had popped round nearly every afternoon, curious about Eumenia's niece. Once their curiosity was satisfied by a couple quick conversations...she had carefully refused them entrance to her home by blocking the doorway and having a short chat right there on the stoop, followed by an excuse of chores that needed doing...the visits had trickled to nothing over the last two weeks. Aside from a few enquiries about Professor McGonagall's visits, easily explained away as a schoolteacher visiting her favorite ex-student, things had grown peaceful.

No sooner had she gone out onto the drive to pick up the next day's Muggle paper, however, than Hermione was hailed by her neighbor to the right. Stacey Atteborough, middle-aged, a recent empty-nester, and in desperate need of someone young to fuss over. She was the most persistent of Hermione's visiting neighbors...or as Severus had snarked in the pages of his diary while still trapped in cat-form, the most nosy.

"Oh, my poor dear! I cannot believe it! What a tragedy!"

Hermione's curly head jerked up, much like a deer upon hearing the crackle of a twig breaking under a hunter's foot. A quick, desperate glance back up the path showed her to be a good forty feet from her front door and its promised safety. At the rate Mrs. Atteborough was chugging around the low fenceline toward her, she wouldn't even make it to the broad stoop. Bracing herself, Hermione waited where she was. Running for cover would be like waving a flag in front of a bull; Stacey would never leave her alone until she found out why.

"You poor thing!" the brunette-dyed woman exclaimed, scooping Hermione against her age-softened figure. A figure doused in something floral-scented.

"Please, don't. I don't like being hugged," Hermione snapped reflexively, pushing to free herself.

"But, your aunt!" Stacey wailed, embracing her more tightly.

The curtains on the other side of Hermione's new home twitched; that would be Mr. Edgars, who had retired from the automotive industry to a life of golf tournaments, cigar-chomping...Mrs. Edgars didn't allow him to smoke the foul things, thankfully...and opinionated diatribes on Parliament's doings over the morning paper, if Hermione and he went out to get it at the same time. No doubt he could hear his opposite number caterwauling. No doubt half the whole street could.

"Your poor aunt, and her tragic, tragic death!"

"Mrs. Atteborough, please!" the young witch asserted sharply. After the emotional turmoil of last night, between Ron, Tonks, and the twins, she didn't want to be touched by anyone other than Severus. She added a twist of her shoulder and a shove of her arm, freeing herself. It didn't help that the woman's perfume was cloyingly musky. Stepping back...closer to her front door...Hermione gave the older woman a hard stare. "My aunt's passing does not give you liberty to maul me!"

"But your dear kinswoman! Poor Eumenia...her plane crashing like that in the jungles of Borneo, her body no doubt eaten by savage head-hunters!"

Oh, dear god...and poor Viktor Krum cannot save me from this one... Mastering the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione gave the woman an icy look worthy of her favorite cat. "Madam, it was the jungles of Burma, there were no cannibals or head-hunters involved, the aviation investigators think it was some sort of problem with the quality of fuel that clogged the injection nozzles, and if you don't mind, I would like to grieve in private...and do not ever grab me like that again!"

"Well!" Stacey exclaimed as Hermione retreated again, one ringed hand rising to the base of her throat. "Well!"

Hermione wasn't about to play the guilt-game. She gave the older woman a level look. "You have said that already. Have you anything useful to say, other than that you're sorry for my aunt's passing? Because I have far too many things to do, handling her estate and the private nature of my grief while doing so, than to stand here being 'well!'-ed at all day."

"Well, I never!"

"You already did...and that makes the third time today, no less. Good morning to you...and good-day!" A curt nod of her head, and Hermione spun on her heel, taking herself and her newspaper back to her home. She almost slammed the door shut, but caught it at the last moment with her fingers, and closed it quietly.

Severus, lurking in the shadows of the hallway, quirked an eyebrow at her. "You seem to have picked up some very bad social habits from me."

Chagrined at her bad manners, though still annoyed, Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Heard that, did you?"

"Half the street heard it."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione headed into the kitchen. She preferred skimming through the paper at the table in the breakfast nook. "So long as it sends them running away from me, rather than toward..."

"You are definitely acquiring some of my worse habits. So...when were you planning on taking that bath, today?" Severus enquired, unable to make the question seem casual, and not really caring. He fixed two cups for their breakfast tea and brought them to the table. Hermione took hers with a grateful sigh, made with a dollop of milk, extra strong, and no sugar, just the way she liked it in the morning.

They had parted the previous night with some reluctance, trying not to rush things, yet definitely interested in exploring further. For Severus, rushing into and through his previous sexual encounters had been mainly a result of paid-by-the-hour opportunity. This time, everything was different. He wanted to avoid rushing, to avoid mistakes. To get it right. He might not know much about courting, but he did know that rushing wasn't respectful.

And yet, yesterday's experiences had been rather heady and worthy of further exploration...

Hermione, paper spread out in front of her, set down her half-drunk tea. "I was thinking we could perhaps go shopping for lab equipment, visit the Ministry to get a license for a Floo-linked hearth for the basement, and while we're there, look at sub-contractors who could handle a sub-floor installation like that. Then finish cleaning up the basement and prepping it for said installation, and anything else we can think of, based on your current funds. Operating expenses can come out of the estate monies, once all of it is tallied and passed on to me. The most important thing is to get that lab up and running, so it can start paying for itself all the sooner.

"After all of that, I think I'll be dirty enough to want to take a nice, long, relaxing bath," she stated, glancing up at him with a smile that lay at some feminine spot between shy and sly. "Or do you have a better idea on how to get dirty enough for a bath?"

Lifting his teacup to his lips, Severus paused just long enough to state calmly, "I was thinking we could clear out the master bedchamber, today. Empty it and plan its redecoration. The sooner we make it into our room," he reminded her, "the sooner we can move into it together. But if you really want to spend all of today dealing with petty...and I emphasize, petty...bureaucrats, rather than preparing the room in which you will eventually be ravished senseless...by all means, let us frustrate ourselves in a far less fruitful manner."

Hermione bit her lower lip at that. At the silent arch of his brow...he was busy sipping his tea, one lump of sugar, no milk, but extra strong like hers...she shrugged. "As much as I'd like that...and I mean really like that, Severus....my practical side says we should focus instead on getting the lab up and running as soon as possible. It is our future source of income, after all."

He grunted into his tea, acknowledging her logic reluctantly. "Then once we've had breakfast, we should finish taking dimensions and plotting floor plans, downstairs. I would like to have the Floo hearth open into a separate chamber, to cut down on potential potion-contamination by billowing soot. And to have an automatic chime installed on it, to let us know when it's in use."

"I agree." Pulling her wand from her upswept hair, she Summoned a pen and a pad of notepaper. "Let's sketch out what we want, prioritize it, and figure out from there what we can have..."

The doorbell rang. Wincing, Hermione rose from her seat, tossed the pen on the table, jabbed her wand back through her curls, and stalked out to the foyer, grumbling under her breath. Peering through the spy-hole, she spotted Mr. Edgars. Manfully, she resisted the urge to growl as she opened the door. "Yes, Mr. Edgars?"

"Heard your aunt passed away. Is that true?" he asked her, a speculative look in his grey eyes.

"Yes, it is."

"My condolences, then."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, getting ready to close the door again.

"I was wondering about those artifacts of hers," Mr. Edgars started to say, switching the unlit stogie from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Sotheby's will be having an auction of the pieces," Hermione stated, cutting him off. "Their website will have the details shortly. Good..."

"So, who's that, then?" Mr. Edgars interrupted her, lifting his gaze past her shoulder.

Hermione glanced behind her. Severus had left the kitchen, coming up to stand behind her in the foyer. With his arms folded across his white-clad chest, he looked rather imposing.

"That's not your father," her neighbor added, his tone reproving. It was evident even in the shade of the foyer that Severus was solidly between Mr. Edgar's age and Hermione's.

"William Edgars, this is Severus Snape, my fiancé. Severus, this is Mr. Edgars, the neighbor to our left."

"'Our' left?" Mr. Edgars asked, picking up on that with a quirk of one brow and a shifting of his half-chewed cigar. "Are you living in sin, then?"

Catching the edge of the door, Hermione prepared to shut it on him. "Yes, and we'd like to get back to it, so if you don't mind...?"

"Hermione," Severus chided her, "you shouldn't have said that." Mr. Edgars lifted both brows at that. Then lost his cigar from the increasing gape of his mouth when Severus added, "I would have said we were about to indulge in mad, passionate, screaming-primate sex, the kind that comes with a 3-ring circus of 5 elephants, 20 clowns, a dozen flying trapeze artists, and a giant, flashing neon sign that says 'Do Not Disturb Us Ever Again, You Hypocritical Prude'...or was I mistakenly informed about this man's current wife being a mere 26 years old?"

"My wife is 58...not that it's any business of yours what her age is!" Mr. Edgars retorted, stooping to pick up his stogie and brush off anything it may have picked up when it hit the stones of the front steps.

"Then it would be your mistress who is the 26-year-old, the one with an excessive taste for lavender in her perfumes...do pay attention, my dear," Severus added to an amused Hermione as their neighbor spluttered, indignant. "It is not necessary to be blunt when it comes to shutting down nosy-parkers. Sometimes subtlety is preferred."

"Subtlety, and a hint of blackmail?" Hermione daringly asked, trying not to laugh.

"Tut, tut. Blackmail is too ugly a word," he chided her. "I prefer 'presenting an undeniable incentive to practice greater circumspection on the part of the indiscreet.'"

Grinning, Hermione lifted herself onto her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "And that's why I like you."

"You're enamoured with my superior extortive qualities?" Severus enquired, arching a brow at Hermione.

"Actually, I'm lusting over your long, hard, and thick...vocabulary. But that, too," she chuckled, leaning into Severus and looping her arms around his shoulders. His hands lifted to her waist, rubbing her sides in slow, tantalizing circles, allowing him to pull her hips into his, emphasizing the worth of another of his many assets. Hermione shivered with pleasure.

"Whereas I am drawn to your huge mounds of...books," Severus murmured, his gaze dipping to her cleavage for a brief, smirking leer.

"Disgraceful!" Mr. Edgars spluttered, drawing their attention back to their visitor.

Glancing over her shoulder, Hermione gave him a disdainful look. "Only if you're not skilled enough to please your partner in all meaningful ways...and only your own partner. That is the true disgrace. Good-day, Mr. Edgars!"

Hooking her foot around the edge of the door, she kicked it shut with a satisfying bang. A grin was hard to kiss around, but she found a way. Severus cooperated willingly, too, despite the brief, awkward bumping of their noses and their teeth.

They were in the front hall, after all.