Granger and the Plow

A/N: Damn you, damn you all. This fic was inspired by a post on WIKKT when damademuerta proposed some very silly lines to be used in a Marriage Law fic. I spent far more time than I should have coming up with this. Oh, and aside from the standard disclaimers about the characters and scenes not belonging to me, they belong to J.K.R., the \"first category, second category\" speech is cribbed from Subhash Ghai\'s film \"Taal\". Anil Kapoor is my hero.

***


Granger and the Plow


“Daddy, it’s for the best, really.” Hermione reached up to pat her father on the shoulder. “It’s not like I’m dying. I’m just getting married.”

“Hermione, he’s old enough to be… well, he’s old enough to be one of my classmates, he should be closer in age to one of yours,” Mr. Granger muttered.

Hermione laughed. “He’d hardly be an effective teacher if he was no older than his pupils.”

His roar took her by surprise. “You’re marrying one of your teachers?”

All eyes turned to watch Hermione Granger nervously pull her father out of the room. The hallway was empty.

“Daddy, I didn’t want to worry you and Mum, but the truth is, we kind of have to get married.”

“What! You mean you… and that cradle-robbing…at that school…” He was incoherent in his rage.

“No! Daddy, no!” Hermione tried to soothe her father. “Not like that. It’s a new wizarding law. It’s sort of in the nature of an arranged marriage.” She wrestled with the right words. “You see, since Voldemort killed so many witches and wizards the ministry is a bit worried about the shallow breeding pool among purebloods. They wanted to encourage cross breeding. Well, actually, I think they just want to encourage breeding, but this measure has the support of some very powerful people.”

“And where, exactly, in this measure does it say that my daughter has to marry one of her teachers?” Mr. Granger asked, begging her to explain why he and his wife had been summoned to lunch at Hogwarts and found their daughter in a wedding dress.

Hermione remembered the exact wording of the law. The hated marriage law, she’d called it. She could recite it by heart. But that wasn’t going to soothe her father’s anxieties about her impending nuptials. “It says that any pureblood wizard can petition for a betrothal contract to any muggleborn witch. There are often riders about children and settlements and such.”

“But you don’t have to accept the contract, right? You’re doing this of your own free will?”

Hermione bit her lip. “I actually had several contracts.” She couldn’t contain the small smile. “There was quite a bidding war. Lucius even took Severus to court over me.”

“Lucius? Severus?” Mr. Granger shook his head in confusion. “And which one is your bridegroom to be?”

“Severus,” Hermione said. “Severus Snape. Actually, here he comes now.”

Indeed, the Potions Master of Hogwarts was striding towards them, his voluminous black robes billowing out behind him.

“I think he’s rather dashing, don’t you, Daddy?”

Mr. Granger just growled.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger.”

Hermione smiled. “Professor Snape.”

“Are you ready?” the professor asked calmly.

“Wait one moment,” Mr. Granger said. “Before you go in there, answer me this. Why my daughter? I know she’s wonderful. She’s my daughter, after all. But what does she have that would tempt a man more than twenty years her senior into an arranged marriage?”

Professor Snape scowled. “Your daughter is one of the most powerful witches of her generation, intelligent as a Ravenclaw, hardworking as a Hufflepuff. She helped defeat one of the most evil dark wizards. She has saved countless lives, including mine.” His tone implied that to every sentence the word ‘dumbass’ should be appended. “Your daughter deserves every opportunity to succeed.” Dumbass.

“And she is going to succeed, married to you?”

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows. “I certainly hope so. It’s certainly costing me enough.”

Mr. Granger looked at his daughter. She appeared to be blushing slightly. “Hermione?”

“He’s paying for my education: university, post-graduate studies, whatever I want. It’s in the contract.” Hermione took her father’s arm. “I know it’s traditional for the parents to make these arrangements, but I didn’t want to worry you. The Patils knew a woman who specializes in negotiating marriage contracts. She’s a professional.”

Snorting, Professor Snape said something that sounded like “professional blood sucker” but Hermione ignored him.

“I’ll be well provided for, Daddy, and the Snape name will allow me opportunities in the Wizarding world I wouldn’t have as plain Hermione Jane Granger. Please say you understand? I’m making a practical decision here.”

Always practical, she’d worn her pair of old blue trainers under the floor length white gown. Practical Hermione, always put aside sentimentality to do what was best. After three hours on her feet, she was grateful for those old blue trainers. Perhaps, despite this less than romantic beginning, the practical choice would again prove the best thing after all.

Hermione watched her father slowly digest this information. Just when she was about to relax, her father spoke again. “Severus? I know your part of the bargain. What’s Hermione’s?”

Professor Snape kept his expression carefully neutral. “I’m not getting any younger. Hermione is going to bear my children.”

Mr. Granger lost what little temper he had left. They could hear him yelling in the dungeons. Sibyll Trelawney claimed her Sight was occluded for days afterwards. Hagrid said his blast-ended screwts all went off at once.

“So my little daughter means nothing more to you than a real estate transaction! You’re going to sow her fertile field with your seed and force her to raise a crop of little wizards, are you? Well, I won’t stand for it! I won’t!”

“I never said anything about forcing her to raise them. We’ll have the best child care we can arrange,” Snape insisted irritably.

“Oh, no you don’t! You’re not going to keep my from my grandchildren!” Mr. Granger shouted, insensible to his own irrationality. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Hermione realized if he was screaming about rights to visiting the children, they’d won him over. She stuck her head into the room, leaving Snape to deal with her ranting father. “Mum? Could you come out her for a minute?” The guests were all carefully ignoring the diatribe in the hallway. In that moment, Hermione loved them all for their patience. “It won’t be more than a few minutes, sorry.”

Albus Dumbledore winked at Hermione. “We’ll wait. We’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

***

The wedding was a small affair. Mr. Granger had finally calmed down, and the ceremony proceeded without further complaint. Because the group of invited guests was so small, the headmaster had provided and and cake in the library rather than opening the Great Hall for a formal banquet. When the reception was over and the last guests were leaving, Hermione kissed her parents and wished them a safe trip home. As they were escorted out, house elves appeared to whisk the tables away, leaving Hermione and Severus alone with Albus Dumbledore.

“Mr. & Mrs. Snape, may I again offer my congratulations?” His eyes were twinkling happily. “I am sure you will find your life together most interesting.”

“Thank you, Albus.” Snape shook his hand warmly.

Impulsively, Hermione stood on tiptoe to kiss the old man’s bewhiskered cheek. “Thank you.”

“Although I know the term is over and there are no students currently in residence, we do still have Peeves and I shudder to think what he might consider amusing wedding night antics. I thought the two of you might like someplace a little more private for your honeymoon, so I took the liberty of arranging a portkey and reservations for you.” Albus handed them a well wrapped slice of cake. “The phrase for the portkey is “marital bliss” and your bags are already there.”

“Oh, we were just thinking we’d stay here,” Hermione began.

“Thank you, Albus,” Snape interrupted her. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Hermione blinked, but did not argue.

“Come, Hermione. Our honeymoon awaits.” Professor Severus Snape wrapped one long arm around his former student and held the piece of cake between them. Hermione placed her hand on his, the cake cupped between their palms. “Marital bliss.”

The familiar navel-pulling sensation of portkey travel ended in the sand. Hermione was very glad for her trainers. She’d have twisted an ankle landing on that shifting surface in heels. She looked around at the deserted stretch of pristine white beach. The sun was already setting into azure blue waters. “Hmm. Tropical, I’d say.”

Snape had half his buttons undone, but he hadn’t released Hermione. “I suspect we go that way.” Tiki torches sprang to life, illuminating a path of pulverized shells.

“Mr. & Mrs. Snape?” An elegant Polynesian witch wearing a sarong and a smile met them at the head of the path. “Your room is this way. Dinner is hot, and the house elves have turned down the sheets. If you will be needing anything else, please ring the bell and someone will arrive shortly.” She opened a bamboo door in a small palm thatched hut just in view of the sea. “Enjoy your stay.”

She all but shoved the couple into the room before closing the door behind them.

The inside was, of course, larger than the out. A. A huge bed was dwarfed by the cavernous space. A cozy seating area had been arranged near the large, perfect picture window overing ing the ocean. Dinner was, in fact, hot and waiting on a side table for the newly married couple to enjoy.

“Are you hungry?” Hermione asked.

“Are you?” Severus removed his outer layers and stood in his pants and undershirt. He was already sweating.

“I asked you first.”

“Hermione, I’m getting too old for this.” Sitting on the bhe phe pointed his wand at his boots. A word and he’d removed them by magic.

“Shall we just get to the sex, then?”

“Eager, are we?” Severus raised an eyebrow at his new bride.

“Nervous, actually,” Hermione confessed. “I’ve never been, er, uhm… plowed before.”

Severus sighed. “We don’t have to do anything now. We can wait, if you’d like.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I’d rather get it over with.” At his look, she cringed. “Sorry, that wasn’t the most romantic thing to say, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t. Come here.” He held his arms out to the girl.

“Do I get points for honesty, at least?” Hermione took a seat on his lap, feeling awkward as she tried to maintain contact with the ground. Severus put his arms around her and met her eyes.

“I will be neither awarding nor deducting points on this honeymoon.”

“Not even if we play the naughty schoolgirl and the lecherous professor?”

Snape hid his face against Hermione’s hair. It had been tamed somewhat for the ceremony, but the humidity of this tropical evening was defeating even Minerva’s strongest hair charms. The curling ends tickled and he blew a few strands away from his nose. She felt wonderful in his arms, in his lap. He found himself stirring, despite his fatigue. It had been a very long, very stressful day, and he just wanted it to be over. “Come on, let’s lie down. We can hold each other for a while and see what happens.” He thought it was a sensible suggestion until Hermione shoved him backwards onto the bed and flopped across his torso. “Oof!”

“Sorry.” It was her turn to hide. She buried her face against his chest. Her voice was muffled. “Witch Weekly said men like it when women take the initiative.”

“Yes, but, there are limits.” He stroked her hair, removing what appeared to be muggle hairpins from the tangle. “I, for instance, usually prefer to keep my breath in my body.”

“Sorry.”

He stroked her soothingly. She was soft and warm, resting against him. He closed his eyes, just for a minute.

He woke to find his bride half undressed and shaking him gently. “Severus, I’m never going to bear fruit if you fall asleep at the plow like that.”

“What?” The sun had set completely. The room was enveloped in darkness, but the light from a brace of candles on the sideboard cast interesting shadows across the room. Hermione looked like one of the more pleasant demons he had encountered, the light on her face shifting as the breeze danced with the candles.

“Get undressed and come to bed. I’m asserting my conjugal rights. The suspense is killing me,” Hermione ordered. “Do you need my help?”

Severus sat up slowly, his mouth feeling somewhat sticky. “You tend to your field and I’ll tend to my plow. I need to visit the toilet first.”

“Oh.”

He abandoned Hermione in the middle of the bed. She looked rather lost. He hasted to the bathroom, rinsed out his mouth and returned as quickly as he could. She doused the lights. The only illumination came from a sliver of moon shining in through the window.

“What should I do now?”

“I’ll work the plow, Mrs. Snape. You just relax.” He had no idea what had gotten into him, but these farming metaphors made it much easier to talk about what they were about to do. He couldn’t even think the word easily. . I. It’s not like he’d never had it before, but he’d never had sex with a wife before. At least, he’d never had sex with one of his own. “First, let’s clear some weeds, shall we?” He removed the last of his clothes, grateful for the darkness. He didn’t want to scare her. He reached for her.

“I’ll pull my own weeds. I think it’ll be faster.”

“But pulling weeds is part of the fun,” Severus said, unhooking her bra and letting her breasts spill free. “Nice tracts of land you have here.” He kissed one nipple then the other. She shivered.

“Now what?” she asked, holding her body away from his.

“Relax. We have to turn the earth, soften it up a bit.” His hands traced her contours in the dark.

“What about the plow?” Hermione asked breathily. “Is it, er, rusty?”

Severus bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Not especially.” He distracted her with kisses along her belly. She quivered.

“What are you doing?”

“Rain,” he told her, piously. “Every field needs some rain.” He rained kisses along her inner thigh, his long fingers parting her lips. “It feels like it has been raining in here for a while,” he commented, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her moisture. His fingertips probed her gently, eliciting a surprised squeak. “Hmm. I’m not sure what that was, but it sounded like a field mouse.”

“Severus.” Her voice was ragged in the darkness. “What are you doing?”

“Marking the furrows.” His long fingers traced a slow path between her legs, slipping gently inside her. “This is where the plow goes.”

Hermione made a noise, half gasp, half laugh. “I know that much.”

He felt his way along her channel, trying to find that place. Hermione bucked against his hand. He rubbed that spot again and had the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. He attended to her clitoris with his mouth as his hand stroked inside her. Writhing and mewling, Hermione finally gripped his hair with her hands and pulled at him.

“It’s too much. It’s too much. I can’t bear it.” She gasped. “Plow me. Plow me now.”

Severus was man enough to find this demand irresistible. He found her hand in the darkness and brought it to his, er, plow. “Touch me.”

Soft, trembling fingers caressed him. Her inexperience was obvious, but her curiosity was more arousing than he would have imagined. She examined him by touch alone in the darkened room, and Severus almost lost his control.

“Shall we?” he asked.

He couldn’t see Hermione’s face in the dark, but he could feel her acquiescence. She spread her legs wider, and brought him to the entrance with her own hand. Holding his weight on his arms, Severus claimed his bride with a slow, deliberate stroke. When he encountered her hymen, he pressed and felt it give way.

She flinched, but the knowledge that she was truly virgin territory aroused him shamefully. He tried to be gentle, but her hands on his back, her gentle gasps as he moved, soon became too much.

“I can’t stop,” he insisted.

“Don’t stop,” she cried, urging him on with her hands.

“Hermione, I’m going to sow your fertile field with my seed.” With a final thrust and a grunt he emptied himself into her.

Hermione pressed herself against him, shuddering. At first he thought he’d actually managed to bring her to climax, but even his post-coital haze was not thick enough to disguise the high pitched giggles emanating from the nubile woman beneath him.

“Oh!” she gasped between giggles. “I thought I was going to die laughing when my father said that. Oh! Fertile field, indeed!” she snorted.

Snape offered a comradely chuckle of his own, but the fact was, her giggling, wiggling body was still wrapped around him. The vibrations of her merriment were doing amazing things to his nether portions. He felt himself growing hard again.

“Hermione, you didn’t, uh…?” He could think of no farming metaphor for climax.

“Hmm? Oh, no I didn’t. But it was my first time. You can’t expect the first time to be magic, they say. But it wasn’t nearly as painful as I’d been led to believe.” She sounded rather matter-of-fact about the whole thing. “I suppose you’ll just have to hitch up the plow again sometime.”

“Accio Wand!” Snape caught his wand and cast a quick healing charm. “That should take away the sting.” He put the wand on the dresser and began moving again. “Since we’re already hitched, as they say…”

“Oh, but you can’t mean… I read that it takes… oh…” Hermione was quickly reduced to monosyllables as Severus tried to bring his wife satisfaction. He reached between them to stimulate her manually as he thrust. “Oh, my! Oh! Oh!” Her legs came up to wrap around his waist. Her arms twined around his neck, overbalancing him.

“I don’t want to crush you,” he ground out through gritted teeth, but Hermione clung like a limpet, kissing everywhere she could reach, his shoulders, his neck, his face. Her lovemaking was frenzied, writhing under him as he pumped into her. But it wasn’t until her mouth found his that her body arched, heaving under him as she achieved her climax. Severus followed with a second, smaller climax of his own.

He tried rolling away, but Hermione had a grip on him. “Do it again,” she demanded sleepily.

“Again? Hermione, I’m exhausted. I don’t think I could manage another orgasm.”

“No, not that. Kiss me.”

After much nose bumping and several pauses to clear wayward strands of hair from the path, Severus and Hermione kissed.

“Maybe this marriage really will turn out for the best,” Hermione said, kissing him a third time and settling more comfortably into his arms.

“Did you have doubts?”

“Of course. I thinkryonryone does, or they should if they’re thinking about it properly.”

Severus kissed the top of her head. “That’s what I love about you. You’re very sensible, for a muggle.”

Hermione struggled out of his arms. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re very sensible for a muggle.” Severus felt a sinking feeling, as though he’d just won a million galleon jackpot… in fairy gold.

“No, before that.”

“That I love you?” Severus offered timidly.

Hermione relaxed and settled back into her husband’s arms. “Oh, good. For a minute there I thought my hearing was going. I did hear you correctly.”

The sound of distant surf and the chirp of nighttimeectsects filled the room.

Severus Snape, who thought he was tired, found himself staring at the ceiling, his wife sighing sleepily in his embrace. He had to ask. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” she wondered.

“Love me?”

Hermione was silent. “Well, I certainly respect you,” she finally said. “And I care about you. I think we’ll get along well together.”

“But do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said simply.

“Hrumph.” Severus sat up to re-arrange the sheets over them. Hermione rolled onto her side and Severus curled up around her.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“How did I know what?”

“How did you know you loved me?”

Severus snorted. “I didn’t know. Minerva had to tell me. She found me mooning in the Astronomy tower like a lovesick Hufflepuff after Voldemort’s defeat. She asked me what was wrong. I told her I missed you. She thought I was joking. I realized I wasn’t.” He rocked against her and she felt her body respond. “Why did you agree to marry me? It can’t have been the money.”

“No,” Hermione agreed, wiggling against him to find a better angle. “When I started getting all these contracts, some of them were rather, ah, passionately written. The negotiator asked me a lot of questions about what I wanted in a marriage. I said at one point that it would be nice to love my husband. She told me there are two categories of people. Some people fall in love and then get married. Some people get married and then fall in love. She said I was definitely in that second category and that I should choose someone I could trust and respect and that love would come in time.”

Severus Snape pulled his wife closer, his hips nudging her bottom and his nourieuried in the hair at the back of her neck. “Second category, hmm?” His hand came around to fondle her breasts.

Hermione pushed back against him to feel his plow nudging the sensitive flesh behind her thighs. “Although, reconsidering, maybe I’m in a third category,” she reconsidered.

“What category would that be?” Severus asked, his breath on the back of her neck sending shiveown own her spine.

“The category of people who fall in love with plowmen.”

Severus Snape laughed.

Hermione felt like a goddess. “I made you laugh.”

“Yes, you did.” He hugged her close. “But you are avoiding the question. Why did you choose to marry me at all?”

“Do that again,” she demanded.

“What? This?” He pressed against her. “Or this?” he squeezed her flesh.

“No. Laugh for me.”

Despite himself, Severus laughed. He was laughing at the presumption of the girl to think she could demand him to laugh on cue. It felt good, though. Something old and ugly died and drifted out of his life.

“That’s why I married you,” Hermione said smugly. “I wanted to hear you laugh.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want a good plowing?” Severus teased.

Hermione sniffed. “You mean I only get one?”

Mr. & Mrs. Snape spent a week in and out of bed, laughing as often as making love, and the gourmet house elf chef lived in despair, for they seldom remembered to eat.

By the time Hermione and Severus returned from their honeymoon, the so-called Marriage Law had been repealed due in part to Lucius Malfoy’s efforts to keep Draco from “wasting” himself on one of those less powerful muggleborn witches.

Though the contract was no longer technically valid, Sevekeptkept to his part of the bargain and Mrs. Snape took full advantage of her educational opportunities. Furthermore, Hermione proved a very fertile field indeed and the Snapes are raising two pairs of twins.