The Gilded Cage

TQW - Yes, they have, I’m so happy you’re celebrating
Terpsichore - Yep, it’s coming, and they had to be on equal footing.
Voracious - Here, have some rice. And champagne while you’re at it.
Alina - And yet, it’s so much better when love is involved, eh?
Phoenix - Me? Blushes! I’d love to see some of that.
Rini - Prepare the dance shoes.
neelix - Oh! More romance pick-me-ups coming, I promise.
Katiekrm - I hate to burst your bubble of rage, but he’s already apologized in a previous chapter, and she shot him down. Additionally, he’s still Snape. That’s as good as it gets. You can’t change who someone is.
Heidi191976 - Well, I hope it meets with expectations.
tenar10r - fangurls would KILL me if their wedding night was summed up as ‘beer and pizza.’ KILL.
Anathema - Well, I’m a bit of a counselor in real life so, making relationships healthy is important.
Isabella_Ravenhurst - Why thank you, that is very kind.
Aviva - I know, seriously. About time for me too.
CatSnads - *evilgrin* I take a lot of pleasure that you’re hooked and addicted.
Draco_Lover - Man, you’re on a roll. Where do I begin – thank you. I’m thrilled that it satisfies and flows naturally.
ANGELWINGZ1983 - Yes, bless their evil meddling hearts. Plots are meant for driving.
Clairvoyant - Actually, glad you asked. You’ll see it this chapter.
HappyBer - Oh! No attacks. Squee, yes. Seizures, no.
Firesblood - Yes, there will be one more chapter and an Epilogue.
keripandya - Thank you, I’m glad you found it then!

*

Chapter 60 - Et Uxor


Speeding through traffic, though lights, Hermione drove with one hand on the wheel, one hand on the clutch, and her mobile clenched between shoulder and ear.


Severus feared for his life.


Hermione, always the detail-oriented planner, was hastily trying to find a last-minute witness for their ceremony. She did not handle last minute details well, and appeared to be taking her frustration out on the road.


Severus felt justified in fearing for his life.


“Damnation!” she screeched. “Jake’s not answering his phone, and all the Weasleys are still at the wedding. There’s no way in hell I’m calling Harry, and I can’t think of too many other people I know who have Muggle phones!”


“Hermione!” Severus yelped in a higher note than he intended as she switched lanes. He hadn’t thought she’d seen the truck in her blind spot, but Hermione gunned the engine and whipped around him.


“Oh wait, I have an idea!”


Severus swore, from that moment on, he would get rid of the trilling device. Besides, if done properly, she’d hardly miss it when they relocated to the Homestead. Severus had several ideas on how to keep her distracted.


Hermione frantically made another phone call, and fortunately was successful in arranging for a witness.


***


The small shuttered home at the end of the nondescript street did not scream ‘a wizard lives here.’ It was perfectly mundane in appearance – from its bland color scheme to its uniformly clipped hedges now blanketed in snow.


The sole occupant, a Mr. Phillipe Hodgeport, did not entertain guests, and discrete perimeter wards discouraged salesmen. The wards, however, did not prevent the cherry red VW Golf from rolling up at 9:30 in the evening. The small car gave a slight shudder, echoed by one of its passengers, and shut off.


“We’re here!” Hermione unnecessarily announced.


Stiff fingers and white knuckles slowly pried themselves apart as Severus heaved a gulp of air. He sneered at the unremarkable house and intoned, “So I see.”


Folded like an accordion and wheezing slightly like one, Severus intended to Apparate back. Let the Muggle authorities confiscate the abandoned vehicle.


Gingerly getting out on rubbery legs, Severus shot a parting scowl for the fuel-efficient economy roadster.


“Has Jacob fallen on hard times?” He asked as they approached the darkened house, treading lightly on the barely cleared icy walk. Not even a porch light greeted them.


“Is he destitute?”


At Hermione’s questioning glance, Severus elaborated, “That house-elf sized auto is unfit for travel. I banged my knees. Twice!”


“Oh, don’t be such a grump. We’re about to be married.”


German engineering aside, nothing would ruin the prospects for her evening, and Severus was inclined to agree. Except of course, if the Stooge was out for the night.


The doorbell chimed a few times before hesitant footsteps could be heard from within. Out of habit, Severus’ wand discretely slid down to his waiting palm. The yellow porch light flicked on, and a thin graying wizard in bathrobe and booties opened the door, adjusting his glasses.


“Hello,” he said, prior to recognizing his nighttime callers.


Before Hermione could eagerly launch into her prepared speech, the wizard forcefully shut the door on them.


Severus and Hermione exchanged glances that clearly read –


‘You should have expected this.’


‘Yes, I know, but I had to try.’


Severus shrugged, indicating, ‘What do you want to do now? The ball is in your court.’


Hermione raised her hand and began insistently knocking. The abused door was wrenched open, the peevish wizard looking most harassed.


“Mr. Hodgeport, sir, it’s very important that we see you,” Hermione said in a rush, before the door could be slammed in her face again. Dutifully, and out of consideration to his bride, Severus wedged the toe of his boot into the door jam.


“Go away,” Hodgeport whined.


Hermione shot Severus a helpless look, and he restrained himself from rolling his eyes. If she wanted in, they’d have to do it his way.


Severus pushed the wizard out of his path, and stalked into the living room that had died in the 1950s.


“What do you people want from me?” he asked, his voice quavering as he backed up several feet from his intruders. The dipshit didn’t even have the common sense to go for his wand. He probably didn’t even have it on him.


Hermione enthusiastically replied, “We want to get married.”


The Ministry Stooge visibly paled several shades. It wasn’t a good look for him, given his complexion; it exaggerated his age spots. His eyes darted quickly between Hermione, who was beaming with a flushed face, and Severus, who still had his wand at the ready and resembled a Death Eater sans mask.


“You’re insane,” he alleged. “You must be trying to kill me.”


He removed his oversized glasses and scrubbed at his eyes, until conceding that the apparitions in front of him were likely real. “Not on your life,” he wailed, starting to grow a small backbone. “Did you know I was moved to Goblin relations because of that debacle? Did you know that Goblins hate me? Filthy creatures keep biting me.”


He raised his fingers and showed off his bandages. Hermione smiled weakly, tight lines furrowing between her brows.


“Yes, well, I suppose I ought to apologize for that. I really didn’t think that our annulment would cause you any problems.” Hermione shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and looked to Severus for some kind of assistance.


He arched an incredulous eyebrow. She was on her own with this one.


As far as Severus was concerned, she should have known damn well that someone was going to take the fall for their very public annulment. Guilty or not, the Ministry always needed a patsy.


Hermione plowed on with a falsely cheerful smile to hide her blushing embarrassment. “You see, we’re interested in getting married again, no annulments, I promise. For real this time.”


Hodgeport blinked at her as if she were nutters. Severus carefully weighed that question. His bride wasn’t perfect. She might be nutters. Hermione was obnoxiously Gryffindor and often inconsiderate. Still, Severus was a glutton for punishment, and Hermione was just the witch to give as good as she got.


“And I’m hoping that if you marry us, you might be able to get your old job back.”


“Pfffth!” Hodgeport snorted, waving her away. “There’s no chance of that. The whole Department is closing and getting reassigned, now that the Marriage Law is about to be overturned.”


Hermione stamped her foot and clenched her fists in frustration.


Pinching his deeply furrowed brows, Severus sighed. He knew he was going to regret what he was about to say. Compromise was a foundation of marriage. Keeping his bride happy on their wedding day was definitely a foundation of marriage. If the Hufflepuff twit had been there, he would have been so effing proud.


“May I point out,” he drawled slowly, “that as soon as we leave here, I have no doubt that you’ll Floo the Daily Prophet and make a fistful of gold off of this exclusive news story. Furthermore, by personally rectifying this nasty bit of marriage business, it should raise you quite high in the Ministry’s esteem. We both know you should be able to request reassignment to whatever Department your little pogue heart desires.”


The Ministry Stooge brightened considerably and beckoned them forward.


“Well of course I can marry you,” he said straightening up and using his most officious ‘Ministry voice.’ “I am certified to perform all twelve requisite charms, and I have seal privileges to file the paperwork. I can even do that for you Monday morning.”


“Tonight,” Severus interrupted.


“But… but…” he sputtered.


“Tonight.” The pinch was back between his brows. If Severus didn’t get this over with and his wife on her back in less than twenty minutes, he swore he would become the next Dark Lord. “Do it tonight or I’ll Obliviate you and we’ll be on our way. Then you can spend Monday morning, and every day after that, as a chew toy for the Goblins.”


Nervously wetting his lips, Hodgeport nodded quickly. Hermione looked ready to pipe up with something, most likely an apology, but Severus silenced her with a sharp look.


Severus loved her dearly, but she could cock up the most simple of intimidations with her apologies. It was no wonder that she was paying her pure-blood suppliers too much. She probably had never once threatened them or used extortion to get a better deal. It never really paid to be nice. If anyone wanted to argue the matter, they just needed to look to the Order as an example.


It took the Dark Lord destroying half the Ministry building before anyone would believe the ‘nice guys.’ Had Severus been allowed to 'convince’ Fudge, he could have made him a believer the same day he’d shown him his pretty tattoo, but Albus had wanted to play nice. That stalling had cost them dearly in Muggle and wizarding lives.


Hodgeport led them into a sitting room and grabbed his wand from a side table that held a plate of biscuits and cooling over-milked tea. He was a Ministry Stooge, but he wasn’t an idiot. Any wizard could count just how many coins Skeeter would pay for the inside exclusive into their elopement.


“So that’s it,” he said, adjusting his glasses from sliding down his nose, “you’re in love then, eh?”


An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. Severus watched Hermione twitch nervously at his side, no doubt summoning her courage.


“Don’t be a daft fool. Of course we are.” Severus turned to his bride, smirking at her with a superior look. For decades he would have full rights to claim that he’d confessed it first. That was the sort of needling he could use to twist Hermione up into a full fury.


“Why else would we be getting married,” Hermione rejoined with a nasty sniff.


Clenching his teeth, he glared at her. She was not going to steal this one from him just because she insisted on them getting married that evening.


“I’ve been in love with her for ages. My Vixen is the perfect witch for me.”


The fight was in her eyes, as Hermione prepared to one-up him again, but then they softened.


“Really?” she asked timidly.


Putting his arm around her and pulling her soft curves tight against his side, Severus kissed the top of her frizzy, untamed head affectionately. “Don’t be silly, Hermione. You’ve known my heart has belonged only to you for a long time.”


And if she didn’t, come morning, Severus was going to ensure that she did.


Hermione swallowed softly and whispered into his robes too low for the Stooge to hear, “And Lily?”


There it was. Her greatest fear. She waited, chewing her bottom lip for an answer that could break her heart.


It was his greatest fear too.


He hadn’t wanted to share Lily with her. Severus had purposely obfuscated all references to the redheaded witch in his book because of Hermione. He could only hope that the Potter brat had kept his damn mouth shut. But despite all his hopes, it appeared Hermione knew about Lily. His know-it-all bookworm was too intelligent for her own good.


“I had hoped to keep that from you,” he murmured, feeling her stiffen against him. Cupping her chin gently, Severus tilted her head up to meet her eyes, and dropped all of his shielding. She would know that he spoke from his heart. “I worried that if you knew about her you’d be jealous or angry. Lily meant a great deal to me.”


He worried about confessing to her that he’d loved Lily for a long time. That she’d misunderstand and run away. This is why he’d wanted to protect her. This is why he'd feared she’d find out.


“The love that I felt - and still feel - for her will never go away. It’s a part of me, intrinsic to who I am. But it doesn’t change how much I love you, Hermione. It’s different.”


He searched her eyes for some sign of understanding. It was different. He’d never thought he was the kind of man who could love two different women. He had fundamentally believed there was one witch out there for him, and for years that witch was personified as Lily. The idea that a man could be so lucky as to love twice had seemed so removed from him until Hermione had walked into his damp and smelly cell with her nose wrinkled up, spouting outrageous demands that he marry her.


“I love you.” Severus closed his eyes and worried that he sounded sad and pathetic. Whiny and Hufflepuff. And if Hermione couldn’t accept the declaration, he didn’t know what he would do. Possibly lock himself in the dusty cellar for the next century.


Hermione touched his cheek. “I love you too.” She gave him an encouraging smile that lifted his bleak and sad little heart.


All would be well.


“Don’t expect me to say it very often,” he warned her, trying to recapture what was left of his battered masculinity in a gruff and grumbling tone. “Just on holidays and special occasions. Understood?”


Hermione’s lips quirked up into a wry grin. “Understood.”


“Excuse me,” Hodgeport chimed in, interrupting their moment. “Do you have a witness?”


Hermione smiled brightly, turning towards him, and Severus slipped his arms around her waist. His fingers fanned out along her ribcage as he pressed himself neatly against her back. Standing possessively with his witch in his arms, Severus hoped her surprise witness would arrive soon. With her curly head tucked up underneath his chin, he only wanted to reclaim his wife.


“Er, um, yes. If you give me your Floo address, he’ll come on through.”


A few moments of quick conference later, and Severus was reluctantly forced to give up his prize while she worked out the finer details. It wasn’t until Ffoulkes stumbled out of the Stooges’ Floo, hastily clothed in robes and clutching a good bottle of red wine, that he paused to consider again that Hermione wasn’t getting a proper wizarding wedding.


Not that they’d had one before.


If she was strained or upset about the notion, she didn’t show it.


He wandered over to the side table where Hermione and his solicitor were looking over a parchment.


Severus cocked a faintly amused eyebrow. “Is that what I think it is?”


Hermione shrugged. “We’re just getting rid of what’s no longer applicable. There’s no point in dictating how often I’ll visit you or clean your cell.” Her smile instantly twisted up into a pinched grimace.


Several lines of their original marriage contract were hastily tapped out by Ffoulkes’ wand.


Severus insisted that her financial rights to her company stay.


Deeply unhappy, Hermione insisted that they share the financial rights to their company.


There was only one equitable solution. And both were anxious to demonstrate their ability to compromise.


Severus readily agreed to sharing his stake in Granger Industries in exchange that Hermione rid herself of all present and future Muggle cellular phones and promise to take a defensive driving class.


It turned out to be the only clause left in the document. Which they all readily agreed made for a uniquely odd marriage contract, but one that suited them perfectly.


“I think we’re ready now,” Ffoulkes announced, satisfied, as soon as both had quilled their signatures.


“Excellent!” Hodgeport said giddily, brandishing his wand. “Just one question, though, are we using the Ministry-approved Fidelity charm then, or the Full Fidelity charm as before?”


“Full,” Hermione interjected before Severus could answer. She turned hastily to him, warmth shining in her eyes, while a quirky smile graced her lips.


Tight lines pinched his brow, and Severus considered arguing. He’d insisted before to manipulate her. It followed to figure that even the most sexually frigid witch would need to find relief someplace. He’d done it to be a total bastard, to pull her down from her smug superiority as she would have been forced to beg him. But the desire to hurt her had dissipated long ago.


Yes, he was possessive of his Hermione, but magical conditions were unhealthy. She even had a useful self-help book on the matter.


Ffoulkes was ready to intercede, pointing out that she was not contract bound.


“I want to,” Hermione reaffirmed. Lacking all desire for anyone other than her soon-to-be husband, Hermione didn’t even entertain the thought that she’d ever stray. Adultery was simply not something she would ever consider. And thinking back to the asshole in the bar, it was a damn fine way of keeping undesirable wizards away.


“Then I will do the same,” Severus stated, daring her to object with a hard look.


Hermione merely responded with a nod. It appeared she was just as possessive of his person. Given the lusty witches pursuing him, that wasn’t a bad thought either.


“Fine, fine,” Hodgeport acknowledged, drawing them in a small circle around his wand.


“Dearly beloved,” he began. This time nobody rolled their eyes. “We are gathered here to witness the marriage of Severus Theodore Snape and Hermione Jean Granger. If anyone here has any objections to their union please speak now.” There was only a slight pause before he began again. “Do you have the rings?”


Hermione glanced down to the unadorned gold band on her hand wistfully, hating to remove it even for the ceremony. The plain circle belonged there.


But she did, removing it at the same time he sheepishly removed his.


Close enough that she could feel his body heat, Hermione clasped his hand in hers as she slid the ring quickly back on his finger where the skin was lighter and slightly indented, placing it right where it belonged. As he slid the thin circle of gold smoothly up her finger, he leaned in, ribbons of inky black hair spilling onto her cheek, tickling the skin. She could smell him, like dust and dry parchment, a masculine odor, with lingering traces of shaving soap.


The overwhelming desire to lift her chin and slide her tongue along the stubble on his jawline was tempting. Her toes flexed in her boots, to surge up and do it, but the Ministry Stooge’s voice interrupted them.


“Will you, Severus Theodore Snape, pledge your steadfast and abiding love to Hermione, uphold the terms of your matrimonial contract, and support the Ministry-approved guidelines governing the sacred and holy bond of marriage?”


“I will,” he replied in a velvety growl as he still gripped her fingertips.


“Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, pledge your steadfast and abiding love to Severus, uphold the terms of your matrimonial contract, and support the Ministry-approved guidelines governing the sacred and holy bond of marriage?”


Her knees weak and her throat suddenly dry, Hermione whispered, “I will.”


“Then by the power invested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”


The actual ceremony took mere seconds. Much shorter than she remembered their first one had. While Hodgeport raised his wand, swishing the final surges of magic around them, Severus leaned the rest of the way as Hermione rose to meet him.


Unlike their first ceremony, she could feel the magic of their bonds tripping all around them, dancing down their skin, as his lips pressed to hers. She had spat before. Now, Hermione hungrily opened to him, holding his body to hers, tasting his kiss incoherently with her hungry mouth.


Her husband was kissing her back. Greedily, passionately, possessively. With clutching fingers and locked lips, Hermione rubbed herself against him, aching for contact. The hideous sateen bridesmaid frock rustled as she shifted, and behind her Hermione dully registered that Ffoulkes had cleared his throat.


Pausing, there was a whispered thought, shared between them.


“Homestead?” Severus asked in a labored voice.


Hermione numbly nodded before returning her wet and pouting lips to his.


The crush of Apparition smothered her and would have sucked out all breath, if she had had any.


Stepping back on the aged hardwood floor, Hermione inhaled deeply.


“Did we just ditch them?” she inquired.


Sardonically, Severus shot her a look that managed to point out at the same time that she had the answer to her question, and wasn’t she silly for asking it. His hands caressed her hips before he pressed into her for more drugging kisses. A vague growing awareness of eyes upon them caused Hermione to shift back, breaking the kiss, but not losing the connection.


“Oh my,” she whispered, ending the trance that Severus was under as he looked up from nuzzling her collar bone. “We have an audience.”


Severus scowled at the gathered elves. And were it possible, he thought there were at least twenty more than when he counted last. He was tempted to investigate, but with his arms already occupied and an insistent erection pressing into his bride’s belly, Severus hadn’t any desire to give it another thought.


Daisy came forward, wringing her hands in glee, “We is –“


“Forbidden from interrupting us,” Severus growled, grabbing Hermione’s hand as the sea of elves parted for them.


Hermione giggled madly, knowing that she’d smooth over their hurt feelings when they got around to leaving the bedroom, but not caring much as he tugged her in that direction. All the giddiness came rushing back, along with a thrill of moisture between her legs.


At the door to the Master suite, he pinned her against the frame, lacing his fingers with hers. Held up by the pressure of his body on her, the wicked heat of his loins traveling between their clothing to touch her skin, Hermione kissed him until she needed his body to support hers.


His greedy kisses slowed and stilled, and he pierced her with an unreadable look as she recovered. Soft eyes traced the lines of his face, drowning in his gaze, as he cleared his throat. “Will you be mine, Madam Snape?”


Wrinkling her nose and brow, Hermione made a slight moue of distaste. “We’re going to have to come up with something better than Madam. I know it’s de rigueur for wizards, but it makes me think of a whorehouse.”


A perfectly arched dark eyebrow lifted into his hairline as he considered her request. “I’m certain we can reach a more suitable accord, wife.”


“Oh yes, already I like that much better,” Hermione affirmed, tilting her head to the side to give him renewed access to her collar bone.


“Vixen,” Severus murmured, nuzzling the soft flesh there. She knew he would take what she so readily offered, and he couldn’t help himself. He’d forgotten how much of a pushy witch she could be in bed, and lazily he thought he could care less. It was one more thing to love about her. Better a witch who could strip her own knickers off and order him to perform for her than a demure one who laid there staring at the ceiling.


His lips curled around the delicate juncture of her throat and shoulder, nipping at the skin and tasting her once more, listening to her breathing became more labored, and he idly thought that staring at the bedroom ceiling was a much better location than a ruddy corridor. And a bed was a decent idea. All his blood rushing south to fuel his throbbing hard-on had left him a touch lightheaded.


Twisting his fingers away from hers briefly enough to thrust open the door, Severus backed her into the room. She followed his steps as he moved, just as she had on the dance floor, a tuneless waltz to the oversized bed, where he pushed her down with a flop.


Bending elbows, Hermione struggled up to glare at her husband. He would not push her around again. Those were the words immediately on her lips, a shrill chastisement that died the moment her eyes fastened on his efficient disrobing. His deft fingers worked the thin row of pearl buttons at his cuffs, and he smirked to see he had her full attention. Severus drew the fine linen shirt, heavily creased by the day’s activities, from his trouser placket and began stripping the buttons back.


Hermione stole the moment to pitch her painfully tight high heels and sensible but frumpy knee-high stockings into a corner.


By the time he’d peeled the shirt from his shoulders, Hermione was tugging and cursing the zipper under her sleeve. Kneeling between her parted legs, he stilled her desperate fingers with a low shushing sound and his hand covering hers. Moving over her body, Severus rested gingerly on top of her, placing the heft of his weight on his elbows.


“I think perhaps this is my job.”


“Oh?” she questioned, chuckling lightly. “Some kind of wedding night tradition?”


“Hermione,” he drawled, his silky voice taking on heat and his dark eyes glittering as he stared down at her, “Allow me to make this night, these memories, better than our first wedding night.”


The desire to curl her legs around his torso and grip him with her thighs, to pull down into her needy core, was only hindered by their clothing - Severus’ trousers and the cut of Hermione’s god-awful bridesmaid dress didn’t permit her to move so much as an inch.


Gripping the metal zipper, he pulled it down her side, revealing creamy white skin as the groaning sound of teeth unzipping and shallow breathing filled their intimate space. Severus looked at the long pink mark the zipper had left in its path and traced it gently with a finger.


“As always, you’re frightfully dressed,” he muttered.


“What does that mean?”


Severus thought of all her dirty trainers and tight Muggle jeans that had been a pain in the arse to remove. Her prim business robes. And now the evergreen frock that would be burned before the morning sun rose, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. He was not so new at being a husband to not know how to keep his own counsel, but Hermione needed a distraction from the comment, and Severus was more than willing to oblige.


Groaning, he rolled over to his side, bereft for the moment of her heated warmth. Hermione tilted, poised no doubt to ask another damnable question, just as he pulled her to him, finding her lips with his own. Encouraging his hands to seek the hem of her gown, she helped him pull it up and heave it off.


“Ah, heaven,” he whispered as her lace-covered breasts came into view. “Delicious.”


There needed to be a charm to remove Muggle bras, he thought as one hand groped behind her back. It would have been simpler to devote time and attention to the task, but he was distracted by reacquainting himself with the valley of her soft bosom. Tracing the exposed flesh with the tip of his tongue, Severus cupped her breasts and squeezed just enough to get Hermione to gasp for him. Mercifully, she unhooked the bra and flung it off, and Severus was enough of a gentleman to permit her. Burying his face between her sweet, lush mounds, he sighed happily. With one of her pink nipples - nipples he’d thought of so often while wanking - pressed to his lips, Severus blissfully laved the tight bud, rolling and pinching the other in counterpoint.


Hermione’s hips straddled him, pinning him as she undulated over his body, grinding her pelvis into his straining groin. The crotch of her panties, wet with her dew, tugged mercilessly on her clitoris as it rubbed against the cloth of his trousers. Frustrated and so close to climax, Hermione insinuated one hand between them before Severus growled and batted her hand away.


Gripping her hips and thrusting uselessly a few times, his hard erection finding no relief between them, Severus flipped her, rolling effortlessly on the massive bed. In the back of his mind, Severus devilishly began to imagine all the Hermione-shaped indentations he could make in the course of their marriage. Pulling back, he cupped her mound, stroking her panty-covered folds, stimulating her with the material as she writhed before him. The moisture on his fingers and the scent of her womanhood in his nostrils made him weak for his witch.


Hooking his fingers around the curve of her hips and pulling her knickers off, Severus inhaled them, smelling her perfume. A predatory smirk crossed his lips momentarily, before tossing the scrap of cloth over his shoulder. Hermione wantonly spread her thighs for him, peeling back the folds of her nether lips to expose herself completely before him, and fingering herself shamelessly.


He dropped to his knees, hungrily licking his lips and pulling her forward, and dragged her across the coverlet until his huffing breath could reach her curls. Hermione wore a predatory smile of her own.


Painfully aroused, only self control held Severus from driving into her willing body. The knowledge that if he indulged in the desire, he’d spend himself like a schoolboy in fifteen seconds or less, held him back. And unlike a schoolboy, he was unlikely to remain erect and spend again every half hour.


Her breathy hitches as he spread her dampness in circles around her pretty clit and the press of his palm against her thigh were reminders that he was not a young wizard – at a young age he wouldn’t have possessed the self control or appreciation for the little trickle of slickness that came from her. Moist and hot and heavenly, was his only thought as he caught that trickle with his tongue, lapping her essence as her knees vainly tried to close behind his head. Tracing the path upwards with the broad flat of his tongue, Severus groaned at the delicious taste of her.


Her hands fisted in the bed sheets, wringing her knuckles white, as he swirled the tip of his tongue around the center of her pleasure. Tipping back her head sensually, Hermione shivered lightly with the force of a small orgasm. Her lips parted to gasp for breath and recover as he demonstrated his oral skills, pressing wet sucking kisses to her clit without mercy. The little explosions that centered in her damp folds, blossoming and radiating out, were building. Clenching and shaking, Hermione rode the waves of sensations as his dancing tongue tripped over her sensitized flesh.


Her whimpers only made him chuckle.


She quaked and twisted her hips on his face, burying his rigid nose between her folds with abandon, while he played her body. His lips smacked loudly, pulling her clit gently with his teeth before soothing the tender flesh with his mouth. Hermione’s thighs flexed again, smothering him in her heat, nearly to the point where Severus couldn’t breathe. He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her fleshy curves, and yanked her further off the bed, cupping her bottom in his palms before burying his face in her essence again.


Firmly massaging her rounded bum, he tongued her slit as she thrashed, arching her back. She keened, her molten honey flowing from her quim to his ready lips.


He could feel the trembling quivers in her thighs, between her legs and in her knees as she came down from her shuddering orgasm. Severus blew cool air between her legs until she squirmed and covered herself with her hands. Chuckling, Severus sat back on his haunches and proudly considered his bride. The sheen of perspiration coated her chest and forehead, and she looked like a witch ready for a good fucking.


The thought stalled as he recalled it was their wedding night. Again, as much as he wanted to ram into her, pulling them both into a needy, screaming climax, to fuck her hard on the end of his cock and drive her across the coverlet – he was supposed to be a gentleman. He could fuck his wife any night of the week, he growled, gathering her attention. Having his bride on their wedding night was a once in a lifetime opportunity.


Gentlemen still needed to get undressed. And as she panted, sucking in air, Severus stood before her, his burning black eyes locked onto her widening brown eyes. Without breaking eye contact, Severus unlatched his belt, stripping it smoothly through belt loops, and dropping it with a clattering thud on the hardwood floor. Twisting buttons through buttonholes, Severus made quick work of his trousers, and grinned when he revealed – per usual – he wasn’t wearing any underpants, but he was wearing embarrassingly ugly socks and his dress shoes.


Hermione kept any caustic comments to herself as he doffed socks and shoes. Besides, she was too riveted to the sight of his body before her. It hadn’t changed much, Severus ruefully reflected. All of her beer and pizza dinners had fattened him up to normal weight, until she left him in the squalid cell and he’d starved himself. Jacob had done his part to help him regain his strength and weight, but nothing could chase away ugliness.


If she thought he was ugly, it didn’t show either. Blessedly, mercifully, Hermione’s eyes were shining full of appreciation for him and his abused body. His straining cock, arching over his belly, also had nabbed her attention.


She scrabbled up on the bed, her knees digging into the mattress as she held her arms out to him, caressing his chest with her palms and drawing him to her body.


“I missed you,” she whispered honestly, her cheek resting at his shoulder. Her arms moved behind his back to rub and warm the muscles there.


Overcome and unable to speak in a moment of weakness, Severus kissed the top of her head affectionately. It would have to suffice.


With care, and a gentle touch that calmed as much as it inflamed, Hermione dragged her fingernails down his sides, scratching and prickling up nerve endings.


“Wicked witch.”


“A Vixen, I’m told,” she responded smugly.


Tilting her head back, she offered her lips for kissing, his mouth replete with her flavor. She smiled as he gasped when her fingers circled his cock. Severus threw his head back clenching his eyes, the knot of his Adam’s apple was bared to her close enough that she could lick it and taste the rasp of stubble on her tongue.


Blotting out all sensation was difficult as Hermione distracted him with teasing kisses to his puckering nipples, but the feel of her hand around him, gripping his shaft, fingers flexing lightly into his sack had him hot and wanting. Gritting his teeth, Severus tried to jerk his hips, free his cock from her hands before he messed the bed sheets.


“Hermione, please,” he pleaded. It had been so long that he’d gone without her touch, and even before then the years were not worth mention. She gripped him tighter, but stopped stroking the glistening tip of his manhood.


“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” she said, stilling her movement to obscenely savor his fluid from her fingertips. “Have you thought of it? You and I making love together? Here in this bed?”


"Yes,” he said, his voice rasping slightly. Full and complete sentences were drained from him, as if the blood flowing into his cock robbed him of coherent thoughts.


Hermione paused to consider the matter, taking too damned long, Severus thought, at leaving him hanging. “In the shower?”


Eyes shut tightly as she resumed her ministrations to his cock, Severus hissed through clenched teeth, “Yesss.”


“Will you fuck me in the shower then, Severus?” she teased in a mock-innocent voice. “I built it for us.”


Bollocks tingling with aching need to release; he hung his head and conceded defeat. His pushy witch could have him however she pleased. Gentleman or not, Severus hadn’t the ounce of ability to deny her, not when her body heat was pressed so close to his. Not when her tightened nipples dragged against his skin.


“Oh gods!” he pleaded.


Sifting her fingers through his soft, ink spill hair, Hermione drew nails down his scalp and tugged on his earlobes making him rumble and purr as they kissed. The feel of his warm cock trapped between them was intoxicating to her, too. They had been intimate before. But never had she known the joy of being with him fully, and it was a pleasure they both intended to remember.


Fingers lacing through his, Hermione slowly shifted back and gingerly pulled him along with her until Severus lay atop her, settling into place, his hips cradled between hers. She could feel the press of his hardened length against her pulsing clitoris and sighed.


She whimpered, thrashing her head side to side as he thrust, grinding his erection along her opened folds, building her arousal. And had she been coherent enough to find words, she would have begged him to end her exquisite torture.


“Hermione,” he breathed, pressing his wet head to her opening. “Please look at me.”


Panting, she lifted her head from the mattress and opened her eyes wide to see an image she would keep with her forever, as Severus guided his tip into her, groaning and gritting his teeth. His shoulder length hair swung forward and skirted his chin, and with nostrils flared and liquid black eyes cataloging her every feature, Severus slowly sank into her.


Divine.


It was her only thought, as her legs tilted back to receive more of him and wrapped around his waist.


Divine.


The first fill of him fitting perfectly into her, settling comfortably against her pelvis. As thrilling as a first kiss. Both groaned in unison.


“I shall always want to remember you like this,” he whispered, pausing to kiss her again.


Drowsily, Hermione smiled. “Just make love to me every time you need a reminder.”


Severus swallowed thickly and tried to regain his strength. It would be a fast wedding night if he gave into his baser instincts. She was wetter than he had imagined; a tight sleeve that held him from tip to base. And when she flexed her muscles around him… Severus’ eyes shut tight reeling from the urge to immediately spend.


“Witch, please…” There weren’t words he could use that wouldn’t embarrass him, but as she teased him with her clenching quim, Severus gave up. Marriage would have to be based upon honesty. Blunt, brutal, embarrassing honesty. “If you keep doing that,” he gritted, “I shall be forced to disappoint you. I had hoped to bring you off twice more before you killed me.”


Hermione giggled and snorted, earning her a sharp glare, even as his most beloved appendage was lodged deep within her.


“What’s so funny?” he demanded, his pride insulted.


“You,” Hermione giggled again, rolling her eyes.


“I fail to see how I amuse you so.”


“Severus,” she countered obnoxiously, giving him a short thrust of her own hips, “we’re married now. And I for one intend to have you as often as I can. There is no disappointing here. There won’t be any.”


Cocking his head to the side, Severus examined his bride for any indication of falsehood or disappointment – and found none. Her eyes held neither judgment nor censure. Only a strong desire to spend the rest of their years exploring together.


Her logical argument was enough of a distraction from the heat of the moment that it quelled the urge to spend himself. Regaining control, Severus smirked nefariously at the witch beneath him, dragging his wet penis slowly from her depths. She would pay for her giggles. Teasing her with shallow thrusts, Hermione sucked in her lower lip and squirmed.


Palming a jiggling breast, Severus silently mouthed ‘Gotcha.’


It was so good. The slick heat of her welcoming vagina as it drew him in and sucked around him. The soft round of her stomach and mounds of her breasts caressed his body. Softer than he’d remembered any witch being. He looked down into the loving eyes of his wife and felt a spring of love burst within. In the back of his mind, Severus knew he could not continue his punishingly slow pace. Not with the need and desire simmering slowly between them. The boiling point would come.


Hermione twisted and gave a meek whimper, begging with her hips for more. Her fingers clawed into his bum, digging into flesh, pulling him deeper into her.


“Oh, yes… please,” she demanded breathily. “More.”


He was only too happy to oblige.


Circling and dragging hips against the apex of her thighs, he consistently tried to hit all of her sensitive parts, even as it made the veins on his neck to stand out with the force of his control. Severus had been truthful. He wanted her to experience at least two more orgasms before his own. The desire to feel her silken essences drown his cock from within, to pulse and constrict around him, was as strong as his desire to express his love and devotion by satisfying her.


Sliding his palm down her smooth calf, he shifted his weight and hitched her leg higher, changing the angle of penetration. Breasts jiggling harder, Severus smiled wickedly down at her before picking up her foot and moving it to his shoulder.


Hermione’s eyes widened and her breath hitched.


Closing his lips around her arch, Severus bit lightly. She screamed a foul word. Tightening and releasing, a pouring rush and blossoming explosion overtook her. It caused Hermione to draw up and push out at the same time as nipples and quim clenched. Toes and fingers curled up. All pieces of her body shattered at once.


Severus had his palm on her other calf, intending to place it with the first, when the first wave of her shuddering delight pulsed around him. Hermione’s curly head tilted back even as she moaned wantonly, and the push, the overwhelming need to bury himself faster… deeper… harder... was intense. His bollocks needed it. The racing feeling to pound her, grip her hips and dig himself deeper and shoot into her furthest recesses was overwhelming as Hermione contracted.


She shuddered again with an intense aftershock as he pumped again slowly.


Panting sharply, they both needed a moment. Smug as he felt of his accomplishment, Severus withdrew slightly to maintain focus. And Hermione needed to recover.


She didn’t give him much time before her hands raised to his shoulders, pushing at them willfully.


A sardonic eyebrow lifted questioningly.


“On your back, Severus,” she huffed, before adding, “please.”


The musky smell of their own sex hung heavily in the air as he slowly dragged himself, muscles protesting this new type of abuse, from her body. Boneless, Severus laid next to her, still panting. With a lazy hand he gestured to his thickly coated erection, bobbing mid-air, as if to say, ‘it’s all yours.’


And it was.


She leaned over him, lips twisted into a grin that made him distinctly uncomfortable before hovering by his loins.


Severus groaned as her tongue dragged up his length.


“Vixen!” he hissed, fingers balled into fists.


“Don’t worry, Severus; I have other plans for you.”


Before he could question her, Hermione had him straddled, her glistening curls spread before his tip. Rapt with attention, Severus watched, fingers itching to grab her curvy hips and impale her on his shaft, as she pumped herself slowly onto him. Her frizzy, tousled curls spilling over her shoulders, her neck curved back, and plump well-kissed lips parted as she filled herself – Hermione looked like a witch given over to pleasure. And nothing was sexier than his wife fucking herself on his cock.


Breath had to be forced into his lungs as she settled onto the fullness of his length, and turned her warm brown eyes upon him.


“Ride me, my love,” was all he could murmur, thrusting his hips up.


Licking her lips, Hermione shifted forward, bracing her palms on his chest, her eyes fluttering closed as her inner folds touched his groin, and a loud, satisfied moan escaped her throat. Palms smoothing down his shoulders, tracing his masculine body, she reached his forearms and brought them up to her rounded hips, prodding him to grip her curves.


She shifted again, drawing herself back and forth smoothly, deliciously along his length. Hermione muffled a cry as he reached the depth she liked best. Twisting her hips, she moved into a pace that pleased them both.


She sighed, relaxing into the building rhythm that buoyed her higher, feeling a breathy boneless pleasure building as she rocked atop him. Flexing hips and thrusting up into her as Severus felt her belly flutter, he hastened her impending climax by moving his hands up her side and cupping her breasts. Pinching each nipple, he watched her eyes tighten shut as she flung her head back and gave a small moaning cry. The strong milking squeezes of her body tightening around him stole the last of his reserve. A sound of pleasure, unintelligible, reverberated from his chest as he ejaculated deep within her.


Little rippling aftershocks transferred from her body into his cock, sparking tingling aftershocks that went all the way to his toes. Severus shivered with the force of the last spurting jet escaping him.


Sated and spent, Hermione wetly kissed his mouth, collapsing on top of him and accepting his comforting embrace. He nudged her, turning her slightly to cradle her from behind. For a long time he held her, amazed by his remarkable witch with the strong heartbeat pounding beneath his palm. When the chill of winter permeated the room, Severus called for a house-elf to attend the hearths.


“Sleep,” he urged the lethargic body nuzzled against him, as he summoned a blanket, but Hermione had already succumbed to the temptation of sleep. Laying the thick duvet over top of them, he paused to watch her chest expand with each breath and a stray twisted curl that moved in cadence.


Severus smiled.

*

A/N:
Chapter Title: Et Uxor - And wife

I won't go into details of my personal life, but this chapter was put on hold for some time. I apologize if any fangurls suffered from withdrawl. I had thought the lemons might make up for it. There will also be one more chapter then the Epilogue.

BIG THANKS to Christev, my beloved beta and partner in crime for her handholding.

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. It does the heart good. AV