Fame and Misfortune

Harry tries to change Hermione�s mind. Arthur Weasley is shocked. Severus and Hermione get married and the media frenzy begins. The wedding night follows.

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A/N -- Again, I must take this opportunity to remind all who read that I do not own the HP Universe. I would also like to thank my betas, Kathy Rose and Larilee and all of those who have reviewed. In one review, somebody asked what happened to Ron. This chapter will answer that question.

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Chapter Three

--

Staring in the mirror, Hermione smoothed her hands over her the modest ivory robe. "This is not "˜death to you part, happily ever after,'" she reminded herself staunchly.

"You look lovely, dearie," her enchanted mirror said in a reassuring manner. "Not too much makeup. Your hair is"¦well"¦lovely."

"It's the best I can do," snapped Hermione as she inspected her reflection one last time.

"Hermione, Harry's here to escort you to the Ministry," her mum shouted from downstairs.

Sighing, Hermione made her way downstairs. Yes, Harry. I'm quite sure I know what I'm doing, she rehearsed in her mind, preparing for her best friend's obvious displeasure over her decision. She plastered a smile on her face before she entered the sitting room.

"You look lovely," her mother gushed, wrapping her in her arms and giving her a hesitant hug.

Good Merlin! It isn't like I'm a virginal sacrifice! "Thanks mum."

Glancing at Harry, Hermione frowned. He was standing next to the fireplace with a grim expression. She rolled her eyes. "Morgana, Merlin, and forest sprites, Harry! It's a wedding, not a funeral."

"You needn't remind me," he replied, offering her some Floo powder.

"Really, Hermione," Mr. Granger murmured. "Are you sure about this"¦this"¦" He waved his hand in the air as though he were hoping to catch the appropriate word.

She smiled. "Yes, dad. Dobby will be coming for my things. I've knitted him some mittens and hats. Could you please make sure he gets them?"

Mrs. Granger cleared her throat, but decided against saying anything else when her daughter pointedly ignored her.

Harry cleared his throat. "I can't believe you won't even listen to your own parents."

"Do you know who the lunatic is who keeps sending those letters?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"And marrying Snape is going to stop those letters?" he retorted sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of powder. "I appreciate your concern, Harry. But I've made my decision."

"Why not marry somebody else, the?" Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Her carefully constructed argument began to unravel as she tried to answer his question. All eyes were on her, waiting for her answer.

"Why not Fred or George?"

"They are single for a reason," Hermione replied sharply.

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Harry grabbed some Floo powder and walked into the fireplace. "I'll wait for you in the atrium. Ministry of Magic!"

With a flash of green smoke, he was gone. "That certainly could have gone better," Hermione mumbled.

Her mum brushed an imaginary piece of lint off Hermione's shoulder. "Do owl us once you've settled in, won't you?"

Hermione hugged her mother tightly. "I will, Mum."

--

Leaning against the far wall of the atrium, Severus watched the various Ministry workers arrive for work. Everything was in place. He had sent an owl to the Daily Prophet , announcing his upcoming nuptials. By the time he and Hermione petitioned for the marriage contract and wed, this atrium would be crawling with media.

Arthur Weasley materialized in one of the fireplaces, brushing the soot from his robe. Severus tried to turn away to avoid the Weasley patriarch, but it was too late.

"Hello, Severus," the red-haired wizard greeted him with an enthusiastic wave.

Snape nodded.

"What brings you here on a beautiful day list this?" Arthur asked.

Schooling his features, Severus peered over the shorter wizard's shoulder and pretended he didn't hear the question. Arthur Weasley really should think about marketing whatever rose-colored glasses he viewed the world through because the weather was anything but beautiful.

Like an expectant puppy waiting for praise from a neglectful master, Arthur waited for an answer.

Severus exhaled impatiently and met the man's gaze. "If you really must know, I am waiting for my fiancée."

Mr. Weasley gaped at him like a fish in desperate needed of water. "Really!"

"Yes, really," Severus sneered.

His fellow Order member clapped excitedly. "Molly will be thrilled! When did you meet? Where did you meet? How long have you been engaged? When is the big day? Where is she from? What does she do? What's her name?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose for he suddenly felt the beginnings of a headache coming on, Severus sighed. "We met about twelve years ago at Hogwarts. A day. Today. I do not know." Nor do I care. "She is apprenticing to be a Healer. Hermione Granger."

Arthur Weasley "“ speechless "“ for the second time in one conversation"¦ Severus grinned as the pregnant pause stretched between them. With any luck, he had shocked Mr. Annoyingly-Cheerful to the point that he may never speak again.

"Hermione Granger?" Arthur repeated softly.

"Hermione Granger," Severus confirmed.

"I"¦uh"¦wow"¦that's"¦" Arthur stumble in his search for the right words. "Wonderful."

He couldn't help but gloat.

"I had hoped that"¦that once Ronald"¦came to his senses, he and Hermione"¦" The hopeful expression died a slow and painful death. "Excellent," Arthur stuttered. "C-congratulations! She's a wonderful girl. Er, I mean woman."

Severus rolled his eyes, wondering if the blathering idiot would ever shut up.
A flash caught his eye and he looked toward the fireplace. "Potter," he growled under his breath.

Potter fixed his gaze upon him and glared. Even if this ruse didn't work, Potter was unhappy, and that was definitely worth the effort.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Arthur greeted him nervously.

"I take it you've heard the news," Harry stated, his inflection dripping with sarcasm.

"Good Morning, Mr. Weasley," Hermione acknowledged the eldest Weasley as she walked up behind Harry.

"Hermione!" Mr. Weasley took one of her hands and shook it vigorously. "Let me be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials, er, or the second."

--

Smiling, Hermione peered over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. Her soon-to-be husband was glowering at her. The man was dressed in his typical black teaching robes as though he were trying to get married between classes.

"Where are your parents?" Arthur asked hopefully, looking around the atrium.

"They, um," Hermione stammered, reaching for an excuse. Her parents had wanted to be here, but she had asked them not to come. She already felt bad enough, using Severus and this marriage as bait. She didn't want to impose herself any more than she had to on the poor man. "They had a prior engagement."

Frowning, Mr. Weasley shifted uneasily, sensing that something was not quite right.

"Hermione is entering into a marriage of convenience," Harry stated irritably.

"I don't think they heard you on the other levels, Potter," growled Severus. "Would you mind not repeating the nature of Miss Granger's and my relationship? After all, we do need to put on a convincing front for the media and her unwanted admirer."

"Her name is Hermione, Professor Snape. You might want to remember it when the reporters start asking questions. I can't believe I agreed to this," Harry mumbled.

Tugging his sleeve, Hermione cleared her throat. "Please, Harry."

Pushing his way past Mr. Weasley and Harry, Severus offered her his arm. "As much as I enjoy Potter's obvious displeasure over our impending nuptials, we do have a schedule."

Hermione nodded, taking hold of Severus' arm. "Mr. Weasley. Tell Mrs. Weasley I said hello. I'll talk to you later, Harry."

--

Their pace was brisk and purposeful down, an awkward silence settling between them. She wore an ivory robe, which was cut to accentuate her Rubenesque figure. The unassuming scent of perfume enchanted his olfactory nerves and Severus cleared his throat.

"You may want to practice smiling," his intended stated brusquely. "You'll need to look somewhat pleased that you married me."

"Indeed," he replied, guiding her through a door and toward the queue for marriage licenses. They wove through the maze and stopped behind a young couple who was having difficulties catching their breath between snogging sessions.

"You look like your going to a funeral, Professor." Her eyes lingered on the passionate couple in front of them.

"I have set aside the day for this"¦process, but I saw no reason to change my attire, Hermione, " he said, emphasizing her name. "You may want to consider using my given name. I have no desire to have a former student call out "˜Professor Snape' when we consummate the marriage."

A light blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "Oh, yes. Of course, sir."

"Next!" a Ministry official barked, calling the young couple forward who giggled foolishly.

"By the way." Severus glared at the couple. "Madam Pomfrey told me to inform you that you Peeves was a little too mischievous the other day. In her efforts of retaliation, she mistakenly misplaced your room."

"I-I suppose I could just stay in the infirmary," she murmured, staring at her feet. "I have a little bit in savings. That would pay for a few weeks in Hogsmeade."

"You will not stay in Hogsmeade village while you are married to me."

"Yes, I can," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot in irritation. "Perhaps I could stay in the Shrieking Shack."

"Next in line, please!" the Ministry official shouted, startling them out of the impending argument. Grasping her elbow, Severus led her toward the counter.

Without even looking up, the blonde-haired witch starting asking questions. "What kind of marriage contract are you applying for "“ an eternal or a temporary?"

"Temporary," groom and bride answered together.

"Names?" the Ministry official asked, pulling various parchments out. She still had yet to look up.

"Severus Snape and Hermione Granger," Severus stated, slipping his arm around his bride's waist.

The witch's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Is there a problem?" Snape questioned after several seconds. The idiotic Ministry official was probably thinking how much she could make off of her exclusive interview, no doubt.

Closing her mouth, the witch started sputtering. "No, P-Professor Snape. Will you be needing an official for the ceremony?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, we were hoping to marry as quickly as possible," Severus urged suggestively.

"Yes, sir. I'll be right back." The government official jumped up and walked past several superiors, finally stopping at one desk and whispering to someone who was undoubtedly her supervisor.

The supervisor's eyes grew large and he stared at Severus and Hermione for a moment before standing and walking to the counter.

"Megan has informed me that you and Miss Granger wish to marry as soon as possible," the short, balding wizard announced in a loud voice. "I would be more than happy to perform the ceremony myself. Or I could see if the Minister of Magic is available."

"You'll do," Hermione replied sharply as she tugged on Severus' sleeve.

Severus frowned. What did she think she was doing? Didn't she realize that the Ministry official was trying to score points with Scrimgeour? "Are you certain"¦dear?"

"Yes," she answered, trying to pull him along.

Scrimgeour would create a media frenzy, countering all of the negative publicity that had haunted him. Stopping, he pulled Hermione against him and nuzzled her cheek. "Are you certain?" His breath was hot against her face. Brushing her hair from her face, he nipped her earlobe. "Having the Minister of Magic sign our marriage contract would provide extra exposure."

--

Feeling his lips brush against her cheek, Hermione resisted the urge to turn her head and kiss him. A dull ache had started to throb in the very pit of her stomach. His conspiratorial tone made little sense to her as unfamiliar sparks shot through her entire being. His teeth nibbled on her earlobe, creating havoc with the rationale part of her brain, which was shrieking in protest, "You are not attracted to this man!"

"I, um," she stuttered, shivering as his tongue brushed against the shell of her ear. One of his hands rested on her waist while the other hand tangled in her hair.

"This extra (lick) exposure (lick) would certainly (lick) entice your stalker," he whispered.

"Y-yes," she stammered softly.

Severus stepped away from her and she felt a swift stab of disappointment replace the throb.

"When will the Minister be available?" Snape asked.

A paper airplane started flying around the supervisor's head and he grabbed it with quick efficiency. A smile spread across the man's face. "He should be here any moment, Professor. Ah! Here's he is now." He motioned toward the open door where Rufus Scrimgeour hurried into the pool of gathering spectators.

Severus pulled Hermione against him as he watched the frazzled looking Minister of Magic approach them. It looked as though they had just gotten the man out of bed. Looking at Hermione, Severus saw her scowling. He kissed her cheek again, playing the part much better than she. "I thought you were supposed to be "˜besotted' with me. You look like you're about to receive a Dementor's Kiss. Do try to play the part."

--

Startling, Hermione stared into his dark eyes. Severus Snape was a master in manipulation. He was playing to the crowd. He carried the abrasive Hogwart's Professor persona with him, showing those around them that the only change was his desire to marry. He was playing the part of devoted fiancée way better than she was.

Plastering a smile on her face, Hermione let Severus answer the questions as they were led into an adjacent room. Errant thoughts of what would take place after the wedding flashed in her mind, sparking unfamiliar feelings.

Relax, Hermione, her logical, soothing voice whispered. There really is no reason to consummate the marriage. It isn't as though her stalker would pay that much attention to the license.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat as someone shoved a bouquet of flowers in her hand. "Very well then." The minister smiled at the couple and waved his wand, levitating a book in front of him. "Shall we begin? Please take each other's hand and face one another."

Severus took her hand in his and turned to her.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat again and started the ceremony. "I ask if either of you know of any just cause or impediment why you may not be legally joined together.

"I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Severus Snape, may not be bound in marriage to Hermione Granger."

"Hermione?" the Minister prompted.

Hermione looked around nervously. "I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Hermione Jane Granger, may not be bound in marriage to Severus Snape."

"Please repeat the fidelity clause," Scrimgeour instructed.

Holding her hand, Severus separated his fingers. "I bind my hand in yours as a symbol of my"¦ love and faithfulness. With my body I shall honor you"¦"

Shock waves reverberated through as the implication of his words tempered her resolve regarding physical intimacy. Without consummation, the union will not be legalized. Sighing, Hermione looked at the binding around their hands, somehow curbing the sharp desire to break the connection and run away.

"Hermione?" Severus' voice shattered her rampant thoughts.

Taking several deep breaths, Hermione wished for a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. This would be so much easier if she were pissed. "I bind my hand in yours as a symbol of my l-love and faithfulness. W-with my body," my "˜overly large body, "I shall honor you, giving you all that I am and all that I shall become."

Legal terms, peppered with words of sentiment spewed from the Minister's mouth, pushing her mind into overdrive. The bindings tightened around their hands.

"You may now kiss your bride," Scrimgeour announced as the inky depths of Severus' eyes peered into hers.

--

Sensing her tense as he pulled Hermione against him, Severus sealed his lips over hers.

He had intended the kiss to be quick, a show for those around them. But a moan escaped her lips and she melted against him. Her surrender surprised him and the opportunist within him exploited her weakness, deepening the sign of affection and slipping his tongue past her full lips. His wife tasted like almonds. The binding around their hands tightened momentarily, then slackened.

He had kept his eyes open during the entire episode, watching the emotions play across her face. Once the binding fell away, her tawny eyes opened and the kiss ended.

A sudden flash and a shout shattered the intimate moment as the media descended.

Vultures, Severus grinned.

"Professor Snape," one reporter barked, "is Hermione pregnant? Is that the reason for the sudden elopement?"

He felt her stiffen beside him. "No!" she spat.

Pulling her tighter, Severus murmured, "Stay calm. There will be more asinine questions, I'm sure."

She turned, her warm eyes moist with tears. "You're right. I'm not surprised." A cold smile spread across her face. "I guess it's time to play the part," she mumbled through her teeth so that only he could hear her.

"How long have you been dating?" another reporter asked excitedly. "How long have you been engaged? What about your fetish for house-elves?"

All he could see was flashes and spots before his eyes. Trying to compose his answers. To his surprise, the answers came from the woman standing next to him.

"We've dated off and on for a little over a year now," Hermione stated lovingly. "Severus proposed last night and I accepted, and you should not believe everything you read in the papers."

"Were you lover's during the war?"

"No," Severus replied calmly, refusing to romanticize the farce.

"Is this just a diversion?" a calm, silky voice questioned from the back of the room. "A plea for positive publicity?"

There was a break in flashes and Severus was able to see the root of all evil in the narrow world of bottom-feeding journalists. He sneered at Rita Skeeter. "I assure you that we are deeply in love "“"

"Then why file for a temporary license?" Skeeter continued her line of questioning. "How temporary is the marriage going to be? And do you realize that it isn't a legal marriage until you consummate it?"

Drawing breath to answer the witch's questions, Severus' words were lost as Hermione's voice carried over his.

"As you may have noticed," his wife recited quickly. "Severus is considerable older than I am. He insisted on the temporary license. Believe it or not, my husband is a sentimental fool. He and I both agree that an eternal marriage license would be foolhardy at best. Besides, I know very view people who would willingly bind their souls together.

"Severus would not want for me to mourn him forever-r," Hermione squeaked as he pinched her playfully.

"I'm not dead, yet, my love," he announced, causing the gallery to explode in laughter.

Her gaze met his and he could see a dormant fire within her eyes. "You're laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?" he asked lowly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Hermione's plastic smile faltered, but she recovered her composure when another flash went off. "Our marriage will last until death parts us. And as for your last question, Miss Skeeter"¦"

Severus could hear the venom dripping in Hermione's tone as she paused.

"Only someone of your"¦background could ask such a tactless question," she stated flatly, tugging on her husband's sleeve.

The reporters and photographers around her hissed and hooted teasingly, wondering if their famous comrade would strike back.

Her blonde curls bouncing as she shook her head, Rita smiled as she vanished her enchanted quill. "We'll see, Miss Granger. I'll be paying close attention to all the tactless particulars."

--

They hadn't exchanged one word to one another since their trip from the Ministry. Of course, it wasn't as though it was a difficult journey. Scrimgeour had allowed them to use his personal Floo, which just so happened to be connected to the Headmaster's office.

Entering the Potion master's sitting room, Hermione saw her trunks in the middle of the room. In fact, her trunks filled the small room. His quarters were cramped, cluttered with books and Potion ingredients. For some odd reason, she hadn't pictured this.


"Reducto," her husband murmured with an exasperated sigh. "You can sort through your trunks tomorrow. The bedroom is through there." He pointed at a door. "I'll be back later. I have duties I must attend to."

Hermione watched as he left the room, finally releasing the breath she had been steadily holding since their arrival. That hack had made this arrangement impossible. Not only did Rita Skeeter know about magical marriage contracts, she knew about Hermione's apprenticeship with Poppy and the living arrangements that had been set in place prior to Peeve's recent rebellion.

She would have to live with Severus now instead of somewhere in the Hospital wing. Skeeter obviously had a spy somewhere in the castle. Removing her outer robe, Hermione set it on a chair. A vision of squashing the reporter in her Animagus form danced through her thoughts and she smiled.

"Now I'll have to shag my former professor," she groused softly, shivers running up and down her spine as a draft passed through the room. Knowing Rita, she'll stay up all night, watching a copy of their marriage contract and looking to see the validation stamp appear once the deed was done. It was times like these that she actually hated magic.

"I can see it now." Hermione sat on the sofa and bowed her head. "The front page will read, "˜Twenty-four-year-old Virgin Loses It to Forty-five-year-old Ex-professor.'"

--

Yes, he could have gotten properly pissed in his quarters. But she was there. Doubt wheedled through his slightly inebriated state and he started questioning his motives.
Was the invasion of his personal space worth the positive publicity? Since when had he started caring what people thought of him?

The inconveniences spurned by Rita Skeeter's original article were becoming less and less, but he still had to contend with student crushes and advances from their parents. Would having Hermione as his wife really make much difference?

Sighing, Severus poured a second glass of Firewhisky and looked at the ever-growing stack of essays on his desk. Tomorrow would shed a new light on his life. He would have to field questions from the other professors. Truth be told, he hadn't really thought this through.

An image flitted through his mind and Severus lifted his glass to his lips. She had looked frightened yesterday "“ frightened and ethereal. Maybe it had been the way the light had hit her hair. Maybe it had been the dark depths of her eyes.

He took a gulp of his Firewhisky and set his glass down. "Perhaps I was drinking."

His statement garnered no reply -- not even from the little voice inside his head.

Hermione Granger was definitely not his idea of"¦what exactly? Beautiful? He had spent most of his adult life shagging the whores in Knockturn Alley. And most of them were hags.

Even though it pained him to admit it, Hermione Granger, er, Snape did possess certain physical qualities, which intrigued him. The softness of her hair had surprised him. Her scent had awoken an urge within him that he hadn't entertained for several months. The way she had trembled when he had touched her puzzled him.

For a woman who had told him, in no uncertain terms, that she did not find him physically attractive, her sighs had made him question various aspects of his opinion of her.

Just thinking about her breathless responses, the taste of almonds and vanilla, aroused him. Muttering a soft curse, Severus contemplated a quick trip to Madam Rosmerta's establishment, but thought better of it. Rita Skeeter's spies were everywhere. He could wank off, but that would do him little good for he desired the warmth of yielding flesh.

Drinking was doing little to ease the ache. In fact, the Firewhisky was only encouraging this maddening state.

--

Her thoughts were so loud that sleep was impossible. Every little noise startled her awake. There was just something about being stalked that didn't make getting to sleep very easy. She missed Crookshanks' soothing warmth and purring, but her pet was safer with Tonks and Remus. Hermione sighed, her impatience and nervousness growing with each tick of the clock.

She really did wish her husband would hurry up. It wasn't as though the circumstances of the upcoming event weren't bad enough, but to have to wait for it was a fate worse than the Cruciatus Curse.

She was as prepared as she was going to get. She had taken a Contraceptive Potion, hadn't bothered putting on her knickers, and had turned out all the lights. After all, Severus certainly didn't want to see her "˜unappealing' figure. The darkness would conceal her embarrassment and her secret. He need never know that she was inexperienced.

Hearing a soft click, Hermione held her breath. Was her imagination playing games on her again, or was he really here? The click was followed by footsteps and she slammed her eyes shut, exhaling and gulping for air.

The door opened and light from the sitting room outlined his shadow.

Please, close the door, she chanted silently.

As if hearing her thought, her husband closed the door behind him and whispered a quick, "Lumos," to light his way to the bathroom.

Slamming her eyes shut, she pretended to be asleep. She could hear the slow agonizing tick of the clock and matched her breathing to it. She really did need to relax. It would only make things worse if she didn't.

Listening to the running water, she exhaled, relieved that he had the common courtesy to shower before coming to bed. The sound lulled her into a stupor.

With a succinct click, the water stopped and shattered Hermione's momentary sense of calm. Clutching the sheet in her hand, she listened as Severus made his way to the bed. Thankfully, he had turned the light out and was making his way to his side of the bed.

She felt a tug on the duvet and a dip in the mattress. The distinct smell of liquor lingered between them. The smell definitely explained the duty he had needed to attend to.

It was a minimal infraction, but the fact that he'd had to get pissed just to shag her stung her already tattered pride. Holding her breath, Hermione willed the prickle of tears away.

Severus shifted again, placing a hesitant hand on her hip. The touch branded her and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

"Hermione," he whispered as his breath caressed the skin below her ear.

At least he knows who he's shagging. She turned her head, trying to dislodge the moist breath along the slope of her neck. A shiver shot down her spine and settled below her belly. She didn't want to feel anything, much less this.

Confronted with this new sensation, she closed her eyes and let herself feel. The feeling of her nightgown being pulled upwards ushered in a new sense of panic. Severus shifted, plastering his very naked body against her side and thrusting his erection against her exposed thigh.

Smelling mint and alcohol on his breath, disappointment overrode any desire she had begun to feel. "C-could you please hur"”"

Her request was muffled as his lips settled over hers. This kiss was nothing like the one they had shared earlier today. For one, it was desperate and demanding, seeking some kind of response from her.

Feeling his fingertips brushing her bare upper thigh, Hermione groaned and clamped her legs together. Severus broke the kiss and eased away from her. The mattress dipped again and she could sense him near.

"Sit up," he instructed, his voice slurred.

"As she sat up, he tugged her nightgown over her head.

The chill in the air plus her nervousness made her teeth chatter. "Hurry," she pleaded.

Prying her legs apart and kneeling between her thighs, he clumsily thrust his rigid cock against her stomach. His tongue licked a hurried path along her jaw and neck as though it were lost.

Hermione dug her fingernails into his forearms, waiting for the inevitable.

"Please hurry," she panted under his weight as he shifted over her, palming one of her breasts and tweaking the nipples. Thanking the darkness for saving her pride, Hermione ran her hands along the corded muscles of his back and arse. She had little time to adjust to the blunt feeling of his searching flesh as it twitched against her damp core.

With violent shove, Severus pierced her innocence. His sudden violation evoked a searing pain. She cried out, pushing against his shoulders and trying to get away from him. But he was oblivious to her discomfort and maintained the pounding rhythm.

Each movement drove him further into her body. "So bloody tight," he hissed with effort.

Hermione laughed. If he only knew.

"Soft," he growled against the shell of her ear.

Feeling his searching lips kiss the tears on her cheeks, Hermione turned her head to avoid the kiss.

"Please," she whimpered, praying for him to finish quickly.

He continued to mumble against her cheek, his words nonsensical at best. The glide of his sex within her had eased and the pain had subsided, leaving the dull pressing ache of unrealized desire.

Expelling a winded groan, Severus tensed above her. Feeling moisture gush between her legs, she grunted when her husband collapsed on top of her.

--

Opening his eyes to the barest of slits, Severus groaned. He would need to brew some Hangover Potion. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten pissed. Being a spy for several decades didn't afford such luxuries. A flash of memory penetrated the murky haze of his miserable stupor "“ a passionate, writhing witch, who had begged him to hurry.

The memory contained no visual record. Everything had been dark. But the sensation of her soft narrow channel had provided him welcome relief. He would have never guessed that Hermione possessed such a boundless capacity of fiery passion.

Irony certainly did have a way of biting one in the arse. History was full of Slytherin/Gryffindor marriages. He hated to berate his House, but Gryffindors have renowned sexual appetites. Just look at the bloody Weasley clan.

Severus bolted upright in bed, the cold reality of his actions last night coming home to roost. He had fucked his wife, totally forgetting about repercussions and birth control.

"Bloody fucking hell," he groaned, jumping out of bed and walking to the shower. He prayed Miss Granger was a sensible as she seemed. She'd said that she'd had plenty of lovers. Surely, she was on some form of birth control. If not and if she had conceived, they would be bound together forever. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, Severus could see the half-moon marks in his forearms and back.

He stepped into the shower and hurriedly completed his ablutions, seething with anger over his own stupidity and irresponsibility.

As he stomped into the bedroom, he froze. The crimson stain on the bedclothes was like a stain on his conscience. Instances of last night's drunken tryst played in his mind. Hermione hadn't been writhing underneath him in passionate play. Her cries and grunts and "please" and "hurry" weren't sexual dialog. It hadn't been salty sweat that he'd tasted as he searched for her lips. Those had been tears.

She had been a virgin.

The bloody chit had lied to him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed. Everything would be okay. He would give her a potion to take care of the problem should the need arise. Hell, he should just give her the potion anyway. Then he would go back to the Ministry and try to get this bloody mistake annulled.

"What was I thinking?" he groused to his reflection as he pulled his clothes on.

"Well," his mirror image replied. "I would like to say that your intentions were noble, but we both know that isn't the case. Even though you really don't care what people think of you, you do get a bit testy when your normal routine is disturbed. Let's face it. Having House-elves popping in on you at all hours is a bit disconcerting, especially when they crawl into bed with you."

Severus glared at his reflection.

"Furthermore." The charmed mirror just couldn't take a hint. "You harbor a deep desire for your wife. Of course "“"

"I most certainly do not!" he barked.

"You would never admit it," the mirror shouted over Severus' outburst. "I am a mirror of truth. That is why the headmaster gave me to you. You're always repressing."

Severus grabbed his wand from the bedside table and hurled a curse at the enchanted mirror, causing his reflection to run for cover. Unfortunately, the curse bounced off the surface and crashed into a table.

"I am indestructible," his reflection taunted. "You can not get rid of me."

Bloody Dumbledore and his need to play therapist with him! "Oh yeah? Would you care to place a wager?" Severus sneered as he approached the full-length mirror and picked it up. "I may not be able to shatter you into a million pieces, but I can put you somewhere where I do not have to listen to your presumptuous dribble."

Having conveniently disposed of the mirror of truth, Severus stormed out of his bedchambers and into the hall. It was time to find his wife.

*****


A/N -- Reviews are greatly appreciated.

As one reviewer pointed out, Reducto would have Snape blowing Hermione\'s things up. Thanks for the input. Because I am lazy and found no shrinking charm on the Lexicon, I simply changed the Reducto to Reducta. Thanks again!