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When Severus lay bleeding out in that miserable shack, he was furious to find that his dying thoughts turned to his insufferable students. It was an outrage. An accomplished Occlumens like himself should have been able to choose what he saw. Precious memories like…well, like the time he brewed the most perfect Draught of Living Death ever crafted by a wizard. Instead, as that beast’s venom began its excruciating and deadly crawl through his veins, Draco fucking Malfoy flashed across his mind. Severus let out a gurgling sigh and wondered if the boy would finally face his fears and do the right thing. Doubtful, he thought drily. 

Then Potter’s image loomed in his thoughts like a goddamn torture device. He was so sick of seeing his smug little face, a carbon copy of his father in almost every way except for those damned green eyes. Did Potter have any idea that sacrificing oneself for the greater good fucking hurt? Luckily, the boy seemed to enjoy breaking every single rule known to wizardkind, even those governing Death itself. Severus refused to entertain doubts in the last minutes of his life: Voldemort would finally fucking die and he’d never have to look at Potter again because, thanks to Nagini, he would also be dead. Win win. 

Even that sniveling Longbottom crossed his mind…a hidden warrior if he ever saw one, he admitted begrudgingly. And then he cringed because he knew who’s unwanted visage would visit him next. Even still, he couldn't help holding onto his fading consciousness with white knuckles. Her image bloomed like a rare flower, so real, so beautiful, and something settled in his erratically beating heart. He relaxed into Death’s embrace, satisfied that she was the last person he would ever see. 

As he released his final breath, a strange little wish swirled through his mind like periwinkle ruffles. A wish that if he had more time, he would do things differently. It didn’t make logical sense to wish for a different life when his was so clearly over, but fuck, he wanted to know what it was to truly live and perhaps even to experience love. The kind of love not bound by duty and guilt and pain. Dumbledore had played him like a violin, strumming chords that struck all three with heartbreaking precision. Severus endured it only because he wanted Voldemort destroyed with a far deadlier passion than those Light magic do-gooders, and so he soldiered on, manipulation notwithstanding. 

Hope for a better future was a difficult little flame to douse, even as he sneered at it with rolling eyes. The price was Death and like his gray-bearded mentor, he was not afraid to pay it. 

But he didn’t die. 

His future wife saved him. 

Severus still wasn’t sure how she fucking did it. Something about that brilliant magic of hers that tasted like sunshine. Later, the Healers told him that she started siphoning out the poison as soon as she came upon him. They said with solemn faces that without her intervention, as unschooled as it was, he would’ve died minutes later. 

He knew then that he would never be rid of her. Her magic was under his skin and there it would remain, torturing him for the rest of his days. Days that now stretched into a future he never thought he would have. Sometimes, when he slept, he would dream of her sweet voice, begging him to stay alive. Stay with me. God, it made him ravenous for her. He could almost feel her silky curls wound around his fingers and her freckled skin burning under his lips. It was a nightmare posing as a dream. He would wake up with his hands twisted in the hospital sheets and his cock stiff and aching. His obsession both electrified him and brought horror and shame pounding into his gut. 

When he finally recovered and left Mungo’s months later, he resolved to put a stop to his madness and move on with his life. She had enrolled in 8th year studies at Hogwarts so he immediately tendered his resignation from teaching and founded his own consulting business. No one was more shocked than he when Ministry officials and private citizens contacted him almost immediately, wanting his opinion, his expertise, his review of their experimental hypotheses. All manner of niche, Potions-related requests crossed his lab table. The work was challenging and quite frankly, fascinating, so he easily lost himself in his ‘papers’, as he began to call them. And for a year, the distractions worked…during the day. At night, she still haunted his dreams. Stay with me…

Severus remembered the first time he laid eyes on her at the Ministry. It was as if that drop of sunshine that flowed through his veins caused a little blip in his heart. She’s here, it seemed to say. But she wasn’t. Not really. The Hermione Granger walking the halls of the Ministry was a ghost of her former self. Shacklebolt tucked her away in an office under the nosy supervision of Prunella Thorne and Severus didn’t entirely disapprove. Someone needed to look after the girl. She was dull-eyed and pale, as if the bright exuberance that had her hand shooting into the air every two seconds to prove her brilliance had been completely snuffed out. 

He pulled some Ministry-nobody aside. “What is wrong with Hermione Granger?” he hissed, surreptitiously pointing across the Atrium. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” the man said a little too eagerly. “Her parents died tragically in an auto-mo-bile collision,” he enunciated. “Apparently, it was an intoxicated Muggle who smashed into them. Sober-up potions aren’t a thing in the Muggle world, you know.” 

“Fucking hell,” Severus murmured to himself. Puzzle pieces were fitting together to reveal an image of pure devastation. 

“Yeah, and the Prophet is reporting that it was just weeks after their memories had been restored.” The git shook his head with facetious pity and leaned in closer. Severus flinched back with a look of disgust. “There’s more. Ronald Weasley, the new Beater for the Wasps, you know? They dated at Hogwarts.” 

Severus bared his teeth at the man. He had about two more seconds of speaking before Severus hexed his voice box into eternal silence for being such an outrageous gossip. 

“Well, rumor has it Weasley broke up with her right before she left to go to Australia to restore her parents' memories and reunite. There was a ‘speculation’ disclaimer, but Skeeter did an entire article chronicling their relationship, right up to the end when he told her, and I quote, ‘I’m not in love with you anymore, ‘Mione.’ Can you imagine?” he said, finally noticing Severus’s threatening glare and backing away nervously. When Severus made like he was going to reach for his wand, the man squeaked and fled. 

Can you imagine? Yes, actually. He knew exactly what it was like to be betrayed by a best friend. And he was well acquainted with the grief of losing a parent, though in his case it was just one he cared about. His heart gave an uncomfortable throb when he thought of what she must be going through, but he forced himself to ignore it. And he meant to continue ignoring her, he truly did. But somehow, whenever he consulted at the Ministry, she would find her way into his field of vision and his eyes would trace disapprovingly over her thin, hunched form. 

Over the course of the year, she did not improve. He could tell some months were better than others. At least during the summer, her freckles warmed up and her skin looked less sallow. It was clear she was going outside and soaking up just enough sunshine to survive. But in the winter months, her shoulders curled forward, as if she was carrying a heavy burden, and her golden eyes were always red-rimmed and haunted. Not once did she notice him watching from the shadows and that disturbed him the most. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage of her broken state of mind and—fuck, he didn’t want to think of what the evil of the world might do to her. 

He cornered Prunella one day and loomed over her, furious. “Why does your employee not get a lunch break like everybody else?” he snapped at her. 

“What are you talking about, Severus Snape?” she snapped right back. The odious woman had no fear and zero sense of self-preservation. He took a menacing step closer. 

“Hermione Granger does not eat. She remains in her office through the mandatory lunch break.” 

“That is her choice, sir!” The woman’s muddy eyes sharpened in her toad-like face. “Why are Hermione Granger’s eating habits any concern of yours?” 

“They are not,” he said coldly. “Following regulations is, however, my concern. Make sure she takes her break or I’ll have a chat with my old friend, the Minister.” 

With that, he turned on his heel and strode away with billowing robes. 

The next time he saw Hermione, she was in the Ministry cafe with a half-eaten sandwich on her plate as she nursed a hot cup of tea and stared into space. He told the blip in his chest to be satisfied. He had brought a modicum of care into the girl’s life and it was enough. He could let go and move on. 

Severus damn well tried. He buried himself in work and even managed to socialize with his old colleagues and the least offensive Ministry officials he worked with. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop watching her. Twice he had to forcefully dissuade predatory wizards from leering at her. And at night, alone in his bed, he closed his eyes and dreamed of chestnut curls and big brown eyes and a voice that played across his mind like music. Stay with me, Professor. Please don’t let go…

*****

Never. He woke up with the word on his lips. His wife let out a soft sigh and shifted in his arms. Her eyes were still closed and the shadow of her dark eyelashes across her cinnamon-dusted cheeks made him swallow hard. Is this real? he asked himself with a stab of fear and wonder. He lifted his hand and gently caressed her face. Her skin was warm and glowing in the morning light shining in from the large attic window. Gone were the dark circles and the hollows in her cheeks. His touch had her lips turning up in a sweet smile but her eyes remained shut. He moved closer, pressed his lips to her cheekbone and lingered there, breathing in her warm, sweet scent. He never tired of kissing her. 

Once again, regret curled into his gut with sharp, acidic claws. It hurt to look at the past and finally understand the depth of what he had done. Three years ago, she had been drowning with her head barely above water. And when the moment presented himself, he said ‘fuck you’ to his better judgment and reached down his hand to pull her up. A rescue for a rescue. A life for a life. He told himself that it was merely pity and some vague question of honor. But deep down, he knew he harbored a dangerous kind of want for his witch, one that would surely ruin them both. 

She had looked at him with such relief, such adoration, that he willingly plunged from his lofty heights right into her desperate clutches. For a brief and shining moment, everything seemed to have fallen perfectly into place. And then he’d fucked it all up. Don’t let go. He had let go. Stay with me. He silently watched her misery grow until she stomped up to the attic and disappeared. And in retaliation, he moved to the basement to lick his perceived wounds. He left her. And he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. 

“What are you thinking about with such a dark expression, dear husband?” 

Her softly teasing voice startled him from his reverie. He turned his head and fell into her chocolate eyes which were now wide open and fixed upon him. Over the past few weeks, he found that she glanced at him often, meeting his gaze like the warm brush of fingers, and then she would look away while her cheeks flushed a delicious shade of light pink. A similar thing happened when he said her name and he had grown addicted to the sight and the little shiver that ran through her body. 

“I was thinking about the wedding.” 

The smile faded from her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and drew her elbows into her body. Her hands clasped together under her chin. 

He frowned. “Why are you sorry, my love?” 

Something beautiful flickered across her face at his endearment before her expression became grave. 

“Because I forced your hand. I made you do something you did not want to do.” 

It was immediate, his reaction, and one that required no thought. He shoved his arms under her, around her, and pulled her against his chest. One hand wound into her hair and the other splayed across the warm skin of her back. 

“That is not true, Hermione,” he said in a low voice right into her delicately formed ear. “I wanted you. In every sense of the word, I wanted you.” He felt her tremble against him. 

“Then…why, Severus?” Her whisper was agonized. 

It was time. He knew they needed to have this conversation years ago, after his first major work project elbowed its way between them. The hurt in her eyes when he sank into that unrelenting assignment had been too much to bear. The worst part was…he thought he was doing exactly as she wanted. 

He took a deep breath. “Before the wedding, I had been…watching you. Every time I was at the Ministry, I sought you out.” He felt her go still beneath him. Fuck. He forced himself to go on. 

“It was a compulsion that I tried to ignore, but…I couldn’t, Hermione. You saved my life in the Shrieking Shack. It wasn’t just the timing or the fact that Poppy Apparated me to Mungo’s before the venom reached my heart. It was your intervention. You told me to…” He swallowed hard. “To stay with you.” 

She was so warm against him, and yet utterly frozen. He wished he could see her face but was also exceedingly grateful he could not. This conversation was a reckoning and he was not sure how their marriage would look on the other side of it. 

“You were so young and you’d just lost your parents and your boyfriend.” He couldn’t help the sneer in his voice. “I had to know you were okay.” 

He went silent. 

“I wasn’t okay,” she murmured into his chest. 

“No,” he agreed. 

“I don’t remember very much of that first year after…” 

He knew she had lived alone at Grimmauld, a horrible place which he considered to be little more than a hovel. There was an air of dark magic haunting the structural bones of that house that made his skin itch. He learned later that Harry and Ginny had moved into their own flat while she was in Australia and had invited her to stay in the guest room indefinitely, but she refused. She had trapped herself in a literal hell. It made him nauseous to think of it. 

“I didn’t notice you, Severus,” she said as if it was a sad truth, almost apologetic. 

Have courage, you fool, he told himself and then shifted them both on the narrow bed so that they could look each other in the eye. 

“Do you remember the wedding?” he asked her as he smoothed an errant curl from her forehead. 

Her cheeks flushed and her small smile was embarrassed. “I remember the champagne,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Ginny gave me the invitation, you know. She told me that Ron and Lavender wanted me to come. ‘He loves you, Hermione. No matter what, you will always be one of his best friends.’ It made me sick to my stomach, but they had all been so good to me while I…” She trailed off and her eyes went distant for a moment. Then, she blinked and continued. “But as soon as I saw him up there in nice, sharp dress robes that were not from 1975, smiling so huge, on the balls of his feet as if he couldn’t wait to marry her, I decided to finally let go.” 

She got drunk, is what she did. She was already flushed and stumbling when she made it to their table for dinner. Yes, Salazar (or Molly Weasley) in their infinite fucking cruelty saw fit to place a little placard with the name Hermione Granger right next to his Severus Snape. The only reason Severus wasn’t up to his eyeballs in nerves was because he Occluded so intensely, he felt like he was watching the world through a pinhole. So he jerked in surprise when she fell into his lap. Literally. The weight of her across his thighs and her curls tickling his face, fuck, it had almost killed him. 

Now, she blushed. “I know I embarrassed myself quite a bit after all that champagne. I had hardly any experience with alcohol so I misjudged the amount needed to…take the edge off.” 

He fiddled with a strand of her hair between his thumb and his forefinger. “You were enchanting,” he said, and it was true. During the speeches, she moved her chair right next to his and whispered funny little things that threatened laughter to bubble up his throat. 

“Neville’s with Pansy now,” she whispered a little too loudly. “The boy always did have a love for Herbology. Might as well marry a flower, even if she’s kind of a bitch.” 

And then later, “I think Arthur just set a new Weasley record for how many times you can mention a Muggle gadget in a speech that has absolutely nothing to do with Muggles. ‘These two are like wrench sockets and a screw?’ That makes no fucking sense.” She leaned closer and closer to whisper her little conspiratorial tidbits and it got harder and harder for him not to smirk at her. 

The others at the table ignored them both, probably because of how fiercely Severus glared at them when they rolled their eyes. “Did you know Mrs. Weasley was furious that Lavender purchased a dress from a shop instead of letting Molly make one? Ginny said she screamed into a Howler just to vent. And then nullified the charm without sending it. Isn’t that insane behavior? Apparently, I dodged a bullet in the mother-in-law department.” 

Back in their attic room, Hermione laughed as Severus recounted her silly little tales. She nodded slowly. “I remember. I remember you were like a stone. Your lips didn’t even twitch, and so I tried harder and harder to get you to smile. It became a little game.” 

He frowned. “Did I?” 

“Did you what?” 

“Smile.” 

She took a deep breath and got a faraway look in her eyes. “Once. While we were dancing.” 

Ah, yes. The dance. After talking in his ear all night, she took his hand and practically dragged him to the dance floor. As soon as they reached the crowd, a slow piano piece started. It was one he was quite familiar with and he surprised himself when he took Hermione into his arms instead of running from the memory of his mother’s hands moving delicately across piano keys. 

“That was when things started to change,” Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts. It was clear she had been studying his face while he was lost in the memory. 

She was right. As they waltzed and she stepped on his toes, the air between them grew heavier, fraught with something more . Her eyes were clearer, and at first he thought it was just the alcohol wearing off, but then he realized it was something much more serious. For the first time in months, Hermione Granger looked happy. Her face was relaxed and a small smile played on her lips. Severus remembered the sense of pure fucking possession that washed over him at the sight. He was a greedy bastard, and the impulse to hoard that precious joy of hers all to himself made his breaths come faster. 

“You were so beautiful,” he told her. 

“When I danced in your arms, the world suddenly snapped into focus again. It was like stepping out of the darkness and into the light,” she said softly. “It was the reason, you know.” 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“I married you because you made me happy for that single moment. It was that simple. I was addicted and all I could think was… more .” A wistful grin spread across her face. “I told you that I knew a spell to fix broken toes. That was when you smiled at me. It lasted maybe one second, but it was my victory.” 

A chuckle rumbled out of him and he planted a kiss on her nose. “And then?” he prompted, knowing full well what came next. 

She flushed. “I tried to kiss you and you turned your cheek and hissed my name. ‘Hermione.’ Fuck, it made me crazy…it still does.” She gave him a shy smile and a feral urge to growl her name over and over gripped his heart. “But you surprised me.” 

Instead of gently extricating himself from her grasp that night on the dance floor and leaving her alone, as he probably should have done, he Apparated them to his house. He fucking took her home. And as soon as they appeared in the kitchen, his lips were upon hers in a kiss that felt like an earthquake. The taste of her, the feel of her mouth, the scent of her so warm and close, fuck, it had rocked him to his core. 

The blip in his heart grew to a pounding rhythm. Mine mine mine, it sang as he yanked her dress over her head and ripped open his shirt, sending buttons scattering. ‘ Yes yes yes ,’ she had chanted aloud as she dug her nails into his back, urging him closer, faster. He drove into her, hard and deep, and swallowed down her gasp like it was an elixir. She was perfect, so fucking good, and he realized, in the midst of fucking her senseless, that he finally knew the answer to the question that had been haunting him since Nagini’s bite. He didn’t tell her then. Instead, the next morning, he had fed her breakfast and watched the shadows begin to crawl back into her eyes. 

“Marry me.” It was all he could think to do to keep the darkness at bay. And if he was honest with himself, the obsessive need for her was roaring in his ears. 

Her mouth had dropped open so prettily. “What?” 

He took her hand. “Marry me. We can go to see the Marriage Secretary at the Wizengamot tomorrow. Come live with me.” 

“Okay.” She didn’t even appear to think about it, which should’ve given him pause, but at the time he was simply relieved by her quick answer. She smiled and the glow of it brightened the entire room. 

By the second night, her clothes were hanging in the master bedroom closet, her boxes were stacked in the shed, and they were both fiddling with the simple gold bands encircling their ring fingers. 

Now, back in the attic, Severus’s shoulders twitched with discomfort. He had done exactly what he feared others would do to her—stolen her away while she was sad and vulnerable. Hermione slid out from the cage of his arms and sat up in bed, leaning back against the pillows. 

“I think it is time I tell you that…I am just as much to blame for what happened between us, Severus.” Her expression was serious. He sat up as well and leaned against the wall, perpendicular to his wife. It grated on him, the lack of touch, the furrow of her forehead as if she was afraid to tell him this truth. 

She took a deep breath and continued. “I didn’t love you when we got married.” 

Well, he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but it was still a punch to the gut. Fuck, he had done it all backwards. No wooing, no proposal down on one knee, no engagement ring. What kind of utter asshole doesn’t—

“Severus, stop.” He looked up swiftly and her eyebrows were raised. Did the witch know Legilimency? He blinked and gave her a sharp nod. She reached over and took his hand. It was an anchor in the storm of their conversation and his muscles loosened just a bit.  

“I had been so deep in my grief and sadness that the relief of no longer being alone was like a drug. I was floating, colors were bright again, and the pure happiness of being married and having a real home and a husband who made love to me at night, Merlin, it sure felt like something real. You swept me up and I placed all my happiness in your hands. That wasn’t fair of me, Severus, and it wasn’t healthy.” Her eyes were imploring and it took everything not to drag her back into his arms and show her all the ways he could make her happy. 

“So when you started working on that project and spending more time in the basement and staying late at the ministry, all that loneliness came rushing back. But instead of doing something about it, I just blamed you.” She gave him a heartbroken little shrug. “It was easier. Easier than admitting I had a problem that I could not solve. Throughout the years at Hogwarts, throughout all the dangerous shit we did, I got very good at pretending that I was fine. I hide everything, Severus. I told myself—and you—that our relationship was fine. I said I was fiercely independent and didn’t need anybody. I told my friends that we were happy and in love. And for those first two years, I let you think that your absence and your indifference did not bother me. I made dinner every evening and cried myself to sleep every night and I didn’t say anything to you.”

The urge to Occlude was so strong, he felt faint. But he forced himself to hear every word coming out of her beautiful mouth. “What made you stop hiding?” he asked quietly. 

“I don’t know.” There was agony in her voice. “I was so tired, Severus. Pretending got too hard. And the sad, grieving thing inside of me turned angry and hateful.” She sat forward and tears sparkled like diamonds in her eyes. “I shudder to think what I would have done if that chocolate box hadn’t shown up on our counter. I am so sorry, Severus, for all the ways I have wronged you.” 

His arms lashed around her and he pulled her into his body with so much force, she gasped. He kissed her over and over, peppering her face and her nose and her neck until she was laughing and pushing him away. 

The twinkle in her eyes faded away and she grew serious once more. “Why did you let go, Severus? You tell me that you watched me for years. That you wanted me more than anything. So…why did you leave me alone?” 

“I…” He glared down at the bed and his vision became hazy. “There’s no great explanation. I could say I was out of my depth…that I didn’t know what I was doing. I’ve never had a relationship that meant anything real and the one person I trusted with my miserable heart crushed it. Work, potions, magic—they’re the only things that have ever made sense to me.” 

His heart was pounding with that inner fury he couldn’t quite seem to tame. “When I asked you to marry me, I knew you didn’t love me. How could you? I took your grief and used it against you so that I could fill a hole in my own chest. A hole you had nothing to do with.” Did she understand the anger was always pointed inward? 

He forced himself to go on. “I thought you had regrets. I kept thinking of the wedding and the way you looked at Weasley. Then, after my big work project, you seemed to be pushing me away and it was the sign I was waiting for. I told myself you realized that I was too old for you, Hermione, too fucked up to be a proper husband, and our history was one of sharp words and sneering condescension.” He swallowed against the strange lump that had risen up in his throat. “I understand now that your distance was because you were hurt. You were protecting yourself…from me.” 

Something seized his chest and he burst out the words on what was almost a mortifying sob. “Oh god, Hermione, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I want it so badly. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life.” 

She made a small, pained noise and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing so tightly he lost his breath. It felt as if she was keeping him from flying apart and he sighed into her touch and the sweet relief that it brought. She loved him. That was enough, even if she never—

“I forgive you, Severus.” 

Oh. Oh. And he trembled in her arms as her soft words broke him into pieces. He vowed to reforge himself into someone stronger, someone she could trust, even if it took help, he would do anything for her. All he wanted in this world was to take care of his wife. 

Hermione reached up and gently gripped his jaw. Her eyes were wet and shining, showing off a depth that he could fall into for ages. “Make love to me, Severus?” 

They hadn’t left the attic bed and when he laid her back down upon it, the morning light shone in across their naked bodies in a beam of pure sunshine. The little piece of Hermione’s magic flowing in his veins reached for the light in joyous reunion. It made his heart blip. She parted her legs and sighed when he slid deep inside of her. He took it slowly, every thrust a thorough drag of friction against her walls, every kiss a meandering inspection of her sensitive skin, every touch a lesson in what made her gasp and moan and tremble. 

He turned on his side, slung her leg over his hip, and brought her closer against him. She moaned when he trailed his fingers up and down her calves while he continued his maddeningly slow rhythm. There was no roar in his head, no chocolate crashing through their bodies like a storm. He could feel every part of her, hear her cries, lose himself in the satisfaction of drawing pleasure from her body. This was just the two of them, stripped down and bare. And they had never been more beautiful. 

*****

Much later, after they got dressed and had a breakfast that was really just lunch, Severus took his wife’s hand and led her down the hallway to their dreaded bedroom. 

His heart throbbed when her expression grew wary. “What—?” 

“Here,” he interrupted, handing her the package he had silently summoned into his grasp. “Careful. It’s heavy.” 

She unwrapped his gift to her and looked up at him with twinkling eyes. 

“Do you know what that is?” he smirked. 

“Do you know what it is?” A laugh burst out of her before she squeezed her lips shut. He narrowed his eyes with mock severity. 

“It is the Muggle version of Thor's hammer,” he drawled with smug satisfaction. 

“Is that what the salesman told you?” 

“Obviously,” he glowered. “At B&Q. I asked if this was a destruction tool for breaking furniture and he said, “Sir, even Thor would be impressed with this sledgehammer.” 

Another laugh erupted from her throat in a sparkling explosion that was music to his ears.  “And what do you expect me to do with this?” 

He ran his eyes over her flushed and beaming face. Fuck, she was so beautiful. 

“Lay waste to the bedroom, little wife,” he said softly. “And in so doing, our past. We’re starting over, you and I.” 

He watched with an aching heart as she blinked rapidly to keep her tears from falling. “And after I knock it all down?” 

He withdrew his long, slender wand. “I will build you a bedroom that you'll want to stay in for the rest of your days. With me. Every night…and most mornings.” 

She launched herself into his arms. Her kiss almost brought him to his knees. The sweetness of her mouth was unlike anything he had ever tasted and he craved it obsessively. 

She pulled away for a brief moment. “Start with the bed, my husband,” she whispered with a smirk, but he could see the tension in her face. She was nervous. The bedroom was the symbol of their failure. It was the one place that should have made her feel safe and secure in their marriage and instead it had become a place of abject loneliness. 

He held her tighter against him, not allowing her to peek at his work. He swirled his wand with careful precision.  

“Not too big, Severus,” she added and gave him a trembling smile. “I want to feel you next to me.” 

He adjusted his wand movements. “How’s that?” he asked in a low voice. 

She spun in his arms and smiled. He had crafted a modest queen-sized bed covered in a soft, white comforter and summoned the pillows from her bed upstairs. Simple. Comfortable. 

“It’s perfect,” she said happily and leaned back against him. He smirked when she froze. He was hard within his trousers. 

“Severus?” 

“Hmm?” He shifted his hips and she let out a little gasp as his cock dug into her perfect ass. 

“Is that mistletoe on the bed?” 

There was a beat of silence while he made a show of peering around her nest of wild curls to look. “So it is,” he said smugly. 

In retaliation, she wiggled her bum against his erection and let out a huff of satisfaction when he groaned. 

He moved his arm up across her chest and laid his fingers lightly across her throat. “You have about two more seconds to compliment my bed Transfiguration skills before I—” 

“You know it’s supposed to be hanging over us, right?” she interrupted with laughter in her voice. 

“From the ceiling? That’s illogical.” 

“Are you not a wizard? A little floating magic and—”

“Are we going to keep debating the proper placement of mistletoe or are you going to sit on my face?” he growled. He vanished his clothes and watched her pupils widen and her cheeks grow deliciously pink. With a squeak, she retreated from his grasp, backing into the side of the bed while he watched like a predator, stone still except for his heaving chest. 

She hurriedly began unbuttoning her shirt when he took a stalking step forward. And another. She sat heavily on the mattress and fumbled at her buttons. 

“Fuck, Severus, please,” she begged. 

He closed the distance between them in two strides, grabbed her legs with a firm grip, and wedged himself between them. 

“I’ve got you, little wife. Now kiss me.” 

*****

A few hours later…

“Thank you for our new bedroom, my love,” she said softly, trailing her fingers over his bare chest. She hadn’t used the sledgehammer at all—it was meant to be mostly symbolic anyway. After they had tested the strength of the headboard and ruined the sheets of the new bed, they eventually pulled themselves together and got to work. They stood side-by-side with their wands out and wound their magic together in a perfect synchrony that Severus found truly extraordinary. Bright sunshine and velvet night harmonizing like a song to create something new and beautiful. 

Their room was built purely for comfort. One wall was floor to ceiling bookshelves and he was already looking forward to the fight they would have while merging their collections. She’d want to put some cartoonish new romance novel next to his first edition of Moste Potente Potions and it would…well, it would start a snarky repartee that would end in her gripping his hair while he licked her cunt to climax. In fact, he looked forward to ending every argument that way. And her damned romance collection could stay, of course. 

Hermione had added some beautifully crafted wooden beams to the ceiling in a small mimicry of the attic, confessing, “I like the way the sun shines on the wood in the morning.” There was also a fireplace across from the bed and a large picture window on the other wall, in front of which he had placed a few of his more finicky plants that he liked to baby. 

“Crookshanks was more independent than that Maidenhair fern,” she teased. “What potion requires its leaves?”

He glared at her. “None. It’s just…” 

She raised her eyebrows. 

“Pretty,” he finished through clenched teeth. 

They shared a laugh when they waved their wands and two sofas materialized at the same time. 

“Oh, very nice,” said Hermione, looking over his contribution with a twinkle in her eye. “Large enough, but rather firm, don’t you think?” 

He looked at her oversized monstrosity with deep cushions and generous pillows. She had even included a giant comforter across one arm of it. 

“Hermione,” he warned. She shivered and he smirked. “We have a bed in here. Why do we need such a huge sofa?” 

She flushed and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “I like fucking you on all the furniture,” she said shyly. 

Oh god, this witch would be the death of him. A smile twitched over his lips. No, she was live-giving, his wife. She was everything. In the end, after he had pressed her against one of the newly painted walls and kissed her to within an inch of her life, they compromised on a chaise lounge chair placed by the bookshelves. 

Now, the room was all put together and the bed very well consummated. He smirked up at the ceiling and briefly considered dragging her over to the chaise to try it out. His tired cock gave a pathetic little throb at the thought. In a few hours, then , he thought. 

“I have something for you too,” his wife said softly, trailing her fingers through the dusting of black hair on his chest. 

“Mmm?”

She summoned it wandlessly and a worn leather bound sheaf of papers flew into her hand. He stopped himself from groaning aloud at the reminder of work and schooled his face into one of curiosity. 

His wife noticed. “I know. More papers,” she said with a grin. “But I think you’ll like these.” She handed him the thick book. The leather was so soft and supple against his hands. It reminded him of her legs…with silky nylons sliding down them. Clearing his throat, Severus sat up and undid the simple leather cord almost reverently. 

“Hermione.” He didn’t look up but saw her smile in his peripheral vision. 

“Manuscript paper for composing music, my husband,” she said, sitting up to place a warm kiss upon his still-bare shoulder. “You have a gift.” 

He turned to her with overwhelming love in his heart. “You are my gift.” He opened his arms and she crawled back into his lap with a sweet sigh. “I should have told you this the day we got married, but…you are the reason I lived, my love. Not just because you saved me, but because I was meant to love you. I am yours and I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t hand over all the pieces of myself three years ago. They belong to you. They’ve always belonged to you.” 

Tears fell like rain from her eyes and splashed onto his arms. He imagined that their pain, the wrongs they had committed against each other, was finally washing away. 

“I love you too, Severus,” she choked through her sobs. “Will you stay with me?” 

“Until the end of my days, little wife. I am yours just as you are mine and I will never let you go, my love.” 

In a cabin deep in the Swiss Alps, a long-lost Mage with a dark curl falling over his forehead and a salt-and-pepper beard furrowed his brow in concentration. He stirred the smooth, dark chocolate in his double boiler, three counterclockwise to every one clockwise. He had to get it just right for the enchantment. If the passionfruit gelée wasn’t perfectly encased, the spell would result in a life or death situation rather than sensual touch as a means to come...over and over again. His lips quirked up in a knowing smile and then he glanced to the side and cursed in Russian. The gold leaf of Arabia! He had forgotten to add it. But no matter, he was just in time. He sprinkled the flecks of shimmering light into the chocolate and hummed with satisfaction when it released a swirl of vapor that smelled of musky sweetness. Divine. 

Now, who was next on his list?