What He Wants

Ok... here it is, the new chapter.
Thanks to LOTM for giving it a once over and some advice on how to wrap this whole thing up.

To June W: Don't worry... I am a frim believer in a happy ending. As for Ron, well let's just say he's always a day late and a Galleon short in this particular fic.
To all that have reviewed thus far... thanks so much




Meanwhile...


Ron Weasley had spent the last two weeks steadfastly avoiding the presence of Hermione Granger. The redhead had taken Snape's threat seriously about staying away from her. Physically, anyway...

Oh, there had been a day or two directly after the confrontation that Ron had given sober thought to the idea of just leaving her alone altogether, giving up in other words. It was, no doubt, the sensible thing to do considering who Snape was, not to mention how powerful.

But then he has seen her, caught in the corner of his vision in Charms class a few days later. And then, he couldn't help himself, he looked at her, really looked at her.

And was floored.

When did she start looking like that? Or more importantly, when did she start moving like that? There was just something in the way she'd now carried herself that was just so... sensual.

It had been an effort to look away before she caught him staring so. But he had, and he was fairly certain that she hadn't notice. He wasn't quite ready for another confrontation with Snape, which surely would have happened had she.

But it got him thinking again.

Why should he give up? Why should he let that greasy bat have her just like that? He had just as much right as Snape to try to win her heart. If Snape couldn't take a little competition, then he needed to get out of the game.

Besides, it was the principal of the thing now. There was no way in hell that he would give up to the man he hated above all others.

He had spent most of his new found free time alone, plotting exactly how to win Hermione back from the Greasy Git. He had allowed his chess honed mind to wander through various scenarios on humiliating the old bat for having the nerve to steal his girl.

And though he hated to admit it, he knew that a battle of wills with Snape would not be an easy task. He grudgingly acknowledged that the wizard was smarter than he himself was, with a lot more life experience, and a decidedly deadlier edge.

Not to mention a certain dark appeal.

Oh yes, there had even been a brief, horrifying moment during his confrontation with Snape, where Ron actually saw what Hermione saw in him.

Snape was a sexy bastard.

It galled Ron to no end to admit that, even to himself. But it didn't change the fact that 'Mione was supposed to be his girl in the end, and he hated the bastard for taking her away.

Still, with the better part of two weeks of intense contemplation about the problem, he had come up with no effective offensive strikes that he could take without the risk of Death By Snape's Wand. It was not something he wanted to take a chance with. He didn't doubt for a second that Snape might try to kill him if he weren't careful. As such, he could think of no action that he could take directly.

In the end though, he had come up with the most effective way to handle the situation.

He'd wait.

He'd just wait them out. Surely it wouldn't take Snape long to grow weary of Hermione, and her more frustrating ways. And it wasn't as if Snape was the easiest fellow to get along with either.

The way Ron figured, it would only be a matter of time before the romance self-destructed, given the volatile nature of both of them. He just needed to figure out how to be around to pick up the pieces once it was all over. Maybe even get in there soon enough to create a little sabotage along the way.

For that though, he'd have to get back into Hermione's good graces.

But Hermione was quick to forgive, and Ron rightly assumed that securing her friendship again would be much easier than going head to head with Snape. Once forgiven, he would be the model friend. (Like Harry apparently) He would be accepting, and attentive, and patient knowing that this was the quickest path to her heart.

He would win her once again; show her what she'd been missing while stuck up Snape's arse.

He wanted to make his move soon. He just needed to get her alone, without making it seem like he was pursuing her.

He knew her schedule well enough to know the mostly likely places to catch up to her. He could easily create some excuse to make contact with her; maybe make it seem accidental even. It was just a matter of getting to her before Snape did.

Snape's habit of whisking her away to some privet parlor, or broom closet, for an interlude was becoming a rather common occurrence, and the idea of what they might be up to never failed to make Ron feel a bit nauseous.

He shook off that bit of unpleasantness.

When would be the best time to catch her alone?

She had a free period while he had History of Magic, and he certainly wasn't above skipping that particular class, but that might make it seem suspicious, like he had planned the whole thing. He definitely didn't want that. Although, he did have a free period during her library time, and there was a pretty good chance that Snape would be in class then.

It would be the perfect opportunity...

He would make it seem like he was there studying, surely she'd approve of that, and it would give him the chance to talk to her away from prying eyes.

That was settled.

This afternoon he would make his move.



*****


Happiness was not something Severus Snape was used to experiencing in his life. As a child, he had rarely experienced the simple pleasure that comes from something shinny and new, his toys and clothing mostly coming from some benevolent organization or well meaning neighbor. As a young man, he learned his justice was at the end of a long line filled with those more deserving than he. And life as an adult, had taught him that life was rarely fair.

He also knew that women would never give him much thought beyond how many galleons he had in his pocket, or if they did, it was only because they had been broken and used by his betters and had no where else to turn.

The novelty of virgin flesh was one he never thought to experience.

He propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at the nude woman now lying by his side. Not just any woman, but Hermione Jane Granger nee Snape, his wife.

She was lying on her back, her arms throw over her head in abandon with the bed covers pushed down and draped tantalizingly off her hip, exposing her top half nicely.

He smiled wickedly at the sight.

Learning that she was still innocent to the ways of passion had indeed been heady.

He brought down a finger, landing it gently to the center of her breast bone, and then trailing a line lightly down and up the middle of her torso.

It never occurred to him that she might come to him still intact giving the rather lusty nature of her two best friends. He had even been prepared to accept it, so long as he would be the last to map the topography of her delectable body.

She stirred and arched into his gentle tracings of her flesh without waking. But then, he wasn't necessarily trying to wake her either.

He had taught her well though over the last few weeks, and she had come to their marriage bed a lusty bride indeed, once he had soothed her initial jitters over the bride part anyway. Though, even he had to admit, the bride part came a bit sooner than he had originally planned. He had intended for her to finish school before marrying her. Hell, he hadn't even intended on asking her to she had taken her NEWTS.

But that wasn't the way it worked out.

Not that Severus was complaining or anything.

He allowed his meandering fingers to drift lower, dipping down beneath the covers that hinted at modesty though did little achieve it, until he reached the top of the soft curls that covered her sex. He drew a lazy, circular pattern there, just enough to hint at teasing, relishing in the humid evidence of her arousal that covered her sex like morning dew.

He had just spent the last two days making love to his beautiful, intelligent, passionate wife. Consequences be damned. She was his now, and no one, not even a Potter or Weasley, could take her away.

There would be consequences though, this he knew, but nothing serious either. He had, after all, long since made his intentions known to all the appropriate parties.

Including her parents...

His fingers paused in their light inspection of her soft body.

Her parents...

He was glad that he had made contact with them, especially since things had become a bit more complicated by the impromptu marriage.

He was glad he had made it a habit of keeping them informed as well, after his initial contact with them, as Hermione had become remarkably tight lipped with them during the war.

A habit that she was still employing with their relationship, he suspected.

He would have to enlighten them of this latest development.

They already knew that he had proposed to her, having been informed of it incident by owl on the day in question. He supposed a floo call would be in order for this particular announcement. Or perhaps a personal visit would be better.

Something he would have to discuss with his wife no doubt.

He grinned wolfishly down at her sleeping form, his fingers once again wandering her luscious landscape.

That should prove entertaining, reminding her of her parental obligations.

It was likely that she had told them nothing of him.

Once the haze of post orgasmic bliss faded from her passion fogged brain, she would likely panic in epic proportions. He would probably have to keep some calming draught on hand, to keep her from having an apocalyptic fit once she remembered that others would have to be told of their new status.

Oh, he'd let her rant for awhile, because, well, frankly she was quite stimulating in that particular mode.

But he would relent, and explain his manipulations in greater detail.

He wondered if that would make her angry, to learn that he had manipulated their situation so thoroughly. Of course, it would change nothing in the end. He had gotten what he wanted after all.

She had managed to throw him a curve or two along the way, though. And now, instead of the comfortable companionship he had hoped for, he had an intensely passionate love affair on his hands. The fact that it was his wife he felt such a burning for, only added to the allure of it all.

He had never expected to feel anything like this, ever, in his whole life. From womb to grave, he had figured on living his life at best in low key mediocrity, and just this side of lonely. He figured it was the most he would ever deserve. He never thought love would enter into his life; figuring at best maybe he would like someone a lot.

Hermione was the first to ever encourage such a reaction from him.

He kept telling himself that deep affection was more than he could ever hope for, and that was certainly what he felt for her in the beginning. He had refused to call it love though. More like an obsession. He had wanted her with a fierceness that had been disconcerting, at first. He had figured it to be a purely sexual thing though; a base desire and nothing more.

Oh, he had had a grudging respect for her mind as well at that time. Had even admired the near ruthlessness with which she had fought during the final battle with Voldemort.

This, back in the day when he was still too numb to feel anything more profound; after having spent nearly twenty years of his life existing of adrenalin and sarcasm.

But then suddenly, Voldemort was gone, and he had lived, (Something he had not expected.) and there was an odd sense of dislocation. Rather like waking up after having slept on his happiness wrong; a sort of numb, tingly, deep ache.

And she was the stuff that was rushing to his soul, waking everything up.

She'd showed up every night those first few weeks, in his office, engaging his mind while trying his patients. She'd stay until he had exhausted his vitriol, and his body, railing at her. And then would leave him as she squeezed his shoulder on the way out the door tossing out causally over her shoulder, "see you tomorrow night, Professor."

Finally, he had nothing left to bitch about. Yet she still came, building bridges back to that tentative truce that had sprung between them during the war. But by then, he was already far beyond wanting just a simple friendship with her.

By then, he just ached for her.

And there was something there between them, something that couldn't be denied. A tension, as it were, like a taut string pulled tight between them that he desperately wanted to tug on and draw her nearer.

Oh, he fiddled with it to be sure, plucking and strumming it every time she was in the room with him. It was hard not to, considering her delightful reactions that sent hardwired male signals to his brain and translating her actions as shy desire.

He honestly thought she was just playing coy, or playing some sort of female game of 'chase'.

It had been shocking to discover she was actually as naïve as she purported herself to be.

"You're thinking too hard," the sleepy voice next to him murmured softly, the body that wielded it stretching and arching into his lazy touch. A soft, feminine finger rose up to smooth the spot between his brows. "You get the little dent right there," she tapped the spot gently, "when you think too much."

He couldn't rightfully argue with the observation, and he wasn't sure weather to be frightened, or relieved that she already understood so much about him.

"Hmm," he grunted noncommittally, "but they were thoughts of you, and by no means unpleasant. Surely, a man is aloud to think hard, pleasant thoughts about his wife."

He captured the hand that had been touching his face, dragging it down until he could place a chaste kiss against her palm. After that, he continued its journey downward, allowing her to sidetrack long enough to scrape against his already puckered nipples, then settling around his now aching member.

She gave him a hearty squeeze and cunning smile. "Hard thoughts indeed," she replied mischievously, and then began to rapidly undo him.

All in all, not a bad way to spend a Monday morning...



*****


She watched her husband from her position at the Gryffindor table. His normally sallow cheeks were still flushed from their earlier activities, and there was a trace of contented smugness that quirked around his thin, expressive lips into a small grin. It pleased her to no end to know that she was the one to put that self-satisfied look of happiness upon his normally dour features.

She tucked her chin to her chest in order hide the answering grin of her own. That, 'Oh yes, I shagged him silly first thing this morning,' knowing, kind of look that she couldn't keep contained to just her lips.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

She wondered if his own look would spill over into his mood; if, perhaps the key to keeping the caustic Potions master at bay was a thorough blow job to start his day.

She smiled again at the way that last flowed and rhymed in her head.

Perhaps she ought to put it on a tee-shirt: 'A blow job a day keeps the evil Potions master at bay.'

'Course, she'd only be able to wear it in their quarters and it'd no doubt give her husband a few ideas of his own.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

She had certainly learned over the past two days that the taste of her husband was a very good thing indeed. She had learned quite a few things about her husband over the last couple of days as a matter of fact.

Her husband.

Gods, she was married. To Severus Snape. It was nearly impossible to fathom. Not that she was complaining... at least not anymore.

It was true that she had had a moment of panic initially over the whole idea, but she had quickly surrendered to the overwhelming passion that had been plaguing her since Severus had made his intentions known to her.

Not that she had been completely ignorant of the tension that had been building between them. A bit naïve perhaps, but she was still a smart girl. Of course, she had been fantasying about kissing the man since before she had even given up on Ron, and well, she didn't need to be hit over the head with a lead pipe to know what that meant.

She wasn't that naïve.

She just never thought he would feel the same, and thought all that tension was just one sided, that he hadn't somehow noticed that she was hopelessly attracted.

Which was a ridiculous notion really, now that she thought about it, now that she had the context behind some of those looks he had been giving her over the last few months.

And she supposed that was where her inexperience lay.

She had had no frame of reference when it came to dealing with a man that was attracted to her as well.

Well, she had it now.

Not that it really mattered anymore. She was married now, and she doubted seriously that there would be another man that could make her feel the way Severus did.

Not that that was a bad thing.

She doubted she would ever grow bored with a man like Severus, not in mind or body. Why spend years looking for perfection when you're lucky enough to find the first time around?

She glanced back up at the man in question only to find him staring intently at her. Well, more like looking laser beams at her. What was it with him and heated looks from across room, anyway?

Not that she was going to complain about those either.

But she was curious how he could make her clit tingle just by looking at her.

Was it some kind of magic? Or was it just the wizard casting the glances?

The sound of a throat clearing directly across from her pulled her away from her thoughts of her husband and into the inquisitive green eyes of her best friend.

"Pleasant weekend?" Harry asked pointedly, a sly grin spreading generously across his boyish features. "I only ask cause this is the first I've seen of you since Friday at dinner, and well here it is Monday morning..."

Hermione felt a moment of blind panic.

Oh dear god... How was she ever going to explain to Harry that she had married Snape?

She threw Severus dread filled look, hoping to gain some insight on how she should handle this situation. The ever so slight nod of his head, and the gleam in his eyes told her all she needed to know.

Apparently, their union was not required to remain a secret, now that it had taken place.

Hermione had a brief moment of proprietary pride in her husband at that silent 'go ahead'. He wasn't ashamed of what had occurred despite the heat of the moment decision.

She beamed back at him briefly before settling her gaze and attention back on her friend.

He looked at her expectantly.

Right then, best to just get it out in the open...

"Um... Harry... There’s something I have to tell you..."


*****


Ron watched through narrow eyes as Hermione and Harry quickly exited the Great Hall arm in arm. Their heads were pulled together and they were whispering fiercely to one another.

Just one more secret he was no longer privy too, no doubt. And for a brief moment Ron found himself longing for their friendship more than anything else.

Oh Harry had tried to mate, and tried to talk to him on occasion, but it wasn't them same between them since things had started heating up between Snape and Hermione. It was clear that his best mate of seven years was taking someone else's side.

Of course, it was Hermione he was siding with, and well he supposed she had just as much 'best friends' rights as he did. But still, this was Snape's side as well, and it seemed to Ron that that should supersede all.

Didn't Harry hate the Greasy Git as much as he did?

Hermione he could almost understand, she clearly hadn't hated Snape in a long time, if ever, now that he thought on it.

Still, this was not something he could let go. He couldn't let Snape win, not this time. Not with Hermione as the stakes. He would get her back no matter what.

The only thing that might stop him, was the one thing not likely to happen anytime soon, if ever. And he was absolutely certain that even if it was likely, he could still get to her way before she ever married Snape.

He shuddered, then snorted.

Hermione married to Snape.

Yeah... liked that ever happen...


*****


Ron was so preoccupied with thoughts of his (former) friends that he failed to notice and even blacker gaze directed at the back of his head.

Severus on the other hand, had noticed where the redhead's attention had been directed throughout the morning meal. It was really of no surprise to him that the boy had reverted to his previous preoccupation with Hermione, nor his lack of discretion in doing so.

He had been waiting for it in fact, as there had been no real battle for the girl, and well a Gryffindor never gave up without a fight. Unfortunate but true. He only hoped he wouldn't have to kill the boy to get him to back off.

That would be unfortunate as well.

Not to mention a hassle.

Oh well, at least he didn't have to worry about the boy getting too close.

One of the effects of a Wizarding marriage would make sure the little bugger kept his grubby little hands off of his wife. Oh yes, if the boy tried to touch her he would get quite the - shock.

Literally...



*****