ProfessorFlo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/30627273

In the end Severus decided to see who it was before deciding whether or not to open the door. The likelihood that it was Minerva was high. He could couldn't think of anyone else who would be bothered enough to come, and while he hadn't got a glimpse of the elf that had been delivering food, he had recognised the crockery and cutlery as coming from Hogwarts, and she was certainly the only member of staff that cared enough to make sure he was fed.

He managed to drag himself up to his feet and stumbled towards the front window and pulled the curtain just back enough to peer out. By the light of the moon and the dim lamp further down the street he could see that it was indeed Minerva standing on his doorstep, her face half hidden by the wide brim of her hat. Reaching into her sleeve she pulled out her wand as he watched, pointing it at his front door. Severus smirked to himself, knowing full well that the many layer of warding he'd spent years erecting around his home would be beyond her skill to unravel, laced through as they were with many dark spells.

Feeling the tingle of his wards, he hurried toward the front door, not realising until he'd reached out for the handle that he'd decided to let her in. His smirk faded as he felt the outer layer of his wards drop. The old windbag must be blasting through rather than using any finesse to take them down. He wasn't why he'd expected any different, not from a Gryffindor, especially this one.

He wrenched the door open, scowling out from the shadows at the witch that seemed completely unsurprised by his appearance at the door, even going so far as to look smug.

"I knew that would get your attention," she crowed as she pushed past him into the front room. She tisked under her breath as she peered around the dark room, before wordlessly using her wand to conjure a few candles. "I'd hoped that elf was exaggerating, but…" she trailed off as he moved forward a pace, leaving the shadows by the doorway so that the candlelight fell on his face.

"Merlin, Severus. What have you done to yourself, my boy?" Her voice was pained. "I should have forced my way in sooner…"

She stepped forward, lifting her hands to his shoulders as if to draw him into a hug, although her expression carried a hint of wariness, as if he were some wild animal that would spook at her touch.

It had the opposite effect however. He hadn't even realised how the lack of human contact over the past weeks had affected him, but the moment she touched him he needed more, and he sank into her embrace, shocking her completely as he uncharacteristically broke down and wept on her shoulder.

1 year earlier

Life had settled back down into a routine fairly quickly after that night. He had feared recriminations from Hermione at some point over the way he'd treated her, and had been surprised when she just continued as before, as if nothing had ever happened. Well, on the surface at least.

Weekends were often spent similarly to weekdays, for Hermione was often called into the office to do extra work, or would spend time with her friends. Severus rarely left the house except to visit his apothecary, to buy or gather ingredients, or on rare occasions, visit the few friends he had. He would usually do more reading that on weekdays, sat in his favourite chair by the fire, or complete the few jobs around the house that he wouldn't allow the house elf to do, but all too often he would have to continue monitoring a potion or two that took a days or even weeks to brew.

Monday to Fridays Hermione would have left for work by the time he crawled out of bed, leaving breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen. He would wolf it down before either descending to his lab to work the day away, or disappearing off to the apothecary that was the front for his business, slipping in the back as always.

It had never been his way to leave important matters, such as the running of a business, to others when he could do them himself, but he'd not been able to deal with the publicity or the sheer number of people who came to gawp at him when he'd first opened the apothecary. He'd quickly started looking for a couple of employees to manage the shop and the simpler brewing. The benefit of having taught the majority of witches and wizarding younger than him was that he already had a good idea of who might meet his exacting standards. Even so, he'd gone through a couple of spineless idiots before he was happy with the small team whom he judged competent enough to not need his constant supervision to brew and run the store and mail order business. The unusual or more difficult potions he brewed himself at home, meaning that on the whole he was able to spend the majority of his time in his own company, which was far preferable to that of the majority of people.

His need for solitude never seemed to extend to his wife, however. She had always been one of the few people whose company he would seek. Some days it was all too easy to curse himself for what he had said to her in the past, not because it was untrue, but because he had done himself out of an agreeable companion. Their conversation was never again as easy and free as it had been before their marriage, and Severus often caught himself wishing things could have been different. But it was impossible. He had made his bed and would have to lie in it. At least it could have been worse, he told himself in commiseration.

The weeks following the ball had been particularly awful, but at least things had eventually begun to improve. For the first couple of months she had spent much of her time in her room, all interactions between them strained, especially at the weekends unless she was out with her friends or doing overtime. Not since that month-long hiatus had she shown any reluctance to come to his bed, although she had continued in the same vein as before; quiet and still, unwilling to let him provide her with any sort of pleasure. She persisted in leaving his bed for her own afterwards, except on one rather memorable occasion when she'd come home drunk, and had promptly fallen asleep, her arms still wrapped around him. He'd left the bed early before she'd awoken in the morning, unwilling to risk her seeing how much he was discomfited by his own enjoyment of her lithe body pressed against his. It had been the first time he'd really noticed that she'd lost weight. When he had reached down to stroke her warm skin, his eyes watching her face warily for any sign of waking, his fingers had encountered ribs and hip bones far more prominent than they had been before. Not that she'd ever had much fat on her to begin with.

He'd started taking an interest in how much she was eating, although it had been hard with her leaving for work so early and spending lunch times at work. In the evenings, however, he had started to make sure there was a good dinner waiting for her at home, and he made sure to sit with her to eat. At first conversation had been extremely stilted, barely more than polite but impersonal questions about each others' days, and his gentle entreaties for her to eat more.

Over the following months he learned what foods she would be more willing to take seconds of, and began to cook them more often. From the looks she would give him it was clear she had caught on to what he was doing, and although she was clearly not sure of his motives, she never said anything, for which he was glad. Telling her that he didn't want to fuck a stick wouldn't have gone down well, and the truth, that he felt hollow and pained whenever he thought of how thin she'd been, probably wouldn't have been believed anyway. Not that the idea that he was worried about her had even crossed his mind, as unused as he was to caring about others.

It wasn't long before she gained all the weight she had lost, and even a bit more. He loved how the extra curves looked at felt, and would have tried to show it in their nights together, only she would shut down any attempt at doing anything more than was required to get himself off. Severus could only wonder at her restraint and determination to refuse all pleasure.

He had begun finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes off her, whatever they were doing. He took most pleasure from occasionally sitting quietly with her in the evenings, both with a book in their hands, sure that it was exactly what they would have been doing had he managed to keep his feelings for Lily a secret. Except, they would have possibly been sat together on the sofa, enjoying the touch of each other's bodies, instead of in separate chairs facing each other. He would have happily spent more time reading with her, except that all too often he felt unable to face her. Something would tighten in his chest at the thought of trying to ignore the occasional glimmer of unshed tears that he would catch in an unguarded moment or the empty smiles she gave him when their eyes met.

When he did manage to push past his own feelings and manage to sit with her for any length of time, however, he would find that whole evenings would go past with him barely taking in a word of his book. If she'd noticed that he rarely turned a page, she'd certainly never said anything. Not that he was trying to be obvious in his silent study of her, either hiding behind the dark curtain of his hair or positioning his book so he could just see her around the edge. She always seemed lost in her own book or her thoughts, rarely looking up at him, but there was something in her face, a quiet melancholy that he knew he had put there. It made his chest ache, and he hated it.

He didn't understand what it was supposed to mean, or what he was supposed to do about it. Hiding in his lab instead of sitting with her seemed the best thing to do to stop the ache, except his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of what she might be doing. What was she thinking about when she stared for long minutes into the fire? Why did the sight of her chewing her bottom lips as she concentrated on her book send a warm pulse through his body, when it had only ever before made him think of filling her mouth with his cock? The level of restrain it took not to pull her into his arms when he saw her holding back tears would always shake him whenever he thought about it later. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Why did she torment him with such thoughts?

He couldn't bring himself to change the way he treated her. She would only have been suspicious of his motives in any case. Instead, he contented himself with small, passive-aggressive acts against her, such as leaving potions ingredients in the kitchen when he knew it annoyed her, or moving her armchair back from the fire so she'd be forced to shift it back to its usual position. Such things were done only to irritate her, his silent retaliation for making him feel something he didn't understand.

Only, the satisfaction he imagined every time he did something never materialised. He wasn't quite sure whether his intention was to annoy her, or to actually provoke a rise out of her, but nothing seemed to faze her. Each time she would calmly push her chair back to the spot she preferred, or would move his ingredients out of the way, sometimes with a gentle reminder not to do it again. The strange, considering looks she would give him were a far cry from the response he'd expected, and instead of a sense of satisfaction, he would only feel something like shame curdling through his bones. Not that it would stop him from doing it again and again, but sometimes he wasn't sure who he was hurting more with his petty vindictiveness.

But then things had changed once more, although it had taken him a few weeks to realise what was happening. His wife had a demanding job, and he was never sure exactly what time she would be home, or if she would have to work at the weekend. Which was why, when she started staying later and later at work, and spending more of her weekends there to, it wasn't immediately obvious. But after the second week in which she'd not arrived home until after ten every day, he began to notice.

He still waited for her, the dinner he had prepared sitting under a warming charm until she arrived, but now he began to try and find out what exactly was keeping her so late. He would ask more and more probing questions about what she had been up to, checking the morning papers each day to see what was happening at the Ministry that could explain what she was doing. But besides the usual news there was nothing that could account for the extra hours she seemed to be working. His questioning over dinner only told him that she had a secret. Her skills at lying were no match for his at observation. Years of spying had made him extremely adept at reading people, yet besides the fact that she was keeping something hidden from him, he had no clue as to what it was.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/30389124

As the last of the lingering traces of firewhiskey in his veins evaporated, Snape crumpled once more to the floor in agony, both physical and emotional. The pain potion which he managed to scrabble around for and eventually tip into his mouth only took care of the former, and once he was free of it, the whole weight of his misery crashed down upon him. He was acutely aware of the emptiness of the house around him, the absence she’d left behind an almost tangible entity. The picture on the mantel piece him seemed to mock him, a pitiful reminder of the potential happiness he had been so quick to squander. The whole bloody house seemed to mock him for that matter the furniture that she had chosen, as abandoned and uncared for as he.

He’d never felt so lonely, not even during that terrible year as Headmaster.

Sobering up had been an awful idea.

Not that getting drunk again was a better one. Now that he was fully sober for the first time in over three weeks, the thought of buying cheap booze to get him back into the state he’d been in seemed far less appealing than it had a few minutes before.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, curled up on the floor and soaking in his own misery, but the house was dark when a loud rapping at the door made him jump. For a moment his heart leapt with the thought that it might be her. But brutal reality set in all too quickly, and he knew that it would never be her. How could it be, after everything he’d done to her? The knock sounded again, and he debated whether or not to ignore it the way he’d ignored all callers since she left.

1 year, 11 months earlier

Severus lay in bed, waiting for his door to open silently and for her to enter. It would be the first time since that awful night that she would come to his bed, almost a month ago. He known he’d hurt her, more than before, not that he’d been any more capable of rectifying the situation, as he still wasn’t ready to admit out loud that there was anything wrong, let alone that it was his fault. But deep down, he knew that he’d crossed a line that night, one he wasn’t sure he could step back over.

Even so, he hadn’t expected her to go to such extremes to avoid him.

…

Three nights after the ball he’d gone to bed, expecting her to be there waiting for him. It had been the last night to complete the second of the required two copulations for that week, and as usual she had gone up early. But when he’d reached his room he’d found his bed as empty as it was every other night of the week that she wasn’t forced into it.

Assuming that she’d be along any minute he’d made his own preparations and climbed into bed, grabbing his new book off the bedside table to read until she appeared. It was a testament to the excellence of the text that he’d read for over an hour without lifting his eyes from the pages before realising Hermione still had not come.

Laying the book aside, he’d climbed out of bed, grumbling under his breath, and gone in search of her. He’ known from his own wards on the house that she had not left, and when he’d reached her door, he’d found it locked and warded. Judging by her lack of response when he’d begun to bang on the wood, she’d also erected a silencing charm. Fighting a rising wave of panic he’d retreated to his room before he’d wound up smashing through her wards and doing something he’d regret even more than his treatment of her earlier in the week.

Once there he’d begun to pace, confused and dismayed at the position she was putting him in. If they didn’t copulate as require by the Ministry they would investigate, wanting to know why. And if there was no good reason they might dig further into his marriage. There may be questions about the lack of a pregnancy, and even if he was able to convince them it was still early days there would undoubtedly be more scrutiny on them than before. And who knows what other things might be brought to light about their relationship. Gossip was always rife amongst Ministry officials, and Severus knew that talk about any of the Golden Trio, or even himself, invariably made its quick way to ears eager for a scandal to print.

He’d not known what to do. On the one hand he’d not wanted to shatter his already delicate relationship with his wife, but was the risk of an investigation worth it, especially considering the Ministry had the power to invalidate any of the marriages they deemed to be defective. He didn’t want to lose her. Even after everything that had happened between them, he’d do just about anything to stop their marriage from being dissolved. No doubt he’d be forced into union with some leftover hag in any case, and living with a wife that hated him was far better living with one that he hated.

But one thing had kept him from breaking into her room and fulfilling the Ministry decree. The idea of forcing himself upon her was so revolting that it had overcome his fear of losing her. It was hard enough when she was silent and still beneath him, but if she refused him completely he could not imagine violating her in such a way.

After an hour or so he’d eventually dropped to the bed with exhaustion, the feeling of pressure in his chest almost crushing him, the idea of losing her making him want to choke with fear. He’d barely slept that night, having woken from more than one half-remembered nightmare, and upon waking had found himself still curled up on top of his blankets.

Wearily he’d showered and dressed before making his way downstairs, the heaviness in both his body and mind combining to make it feel as if he’d overindulged in firewhiskey the night before.

He hadn’t known what he’d expected to find, but his breakfast, sitting as always on the kitchen table under a warming charm, waiting for him to appear, had not been it. The one bite of toast that he’d taken tasted enough like ash that he’d immediately banished the lot, plate and all, to oblivion, before descending to his lab. Not that he’d got anything done beyond checking on the couple of potions that still had to mature for a few days, as he’d been far too busy sulking in the dark.

For three days he’d barely saw sight nor sound of Hermione, although he’d not exactly been making an effort to be sociable either. His meals, however, had continued to appear, morning and evening, but each was scarcely touched before the rest was binned. A hollow feeling, not just from the lack of food, grew larger daily, low in his stomach. He knew that his appearance was becoming more and more frightful as he began to neglect not only his meals but his own hygiene, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. If he lost her, none of that would matter anyway.

Each night he’d gone to bed early, telling himself that he was just tired, and not just waiting and hoping that she would appear, but unable to sleep easily, or even concentrate on his book. It was just a matter of time, he knew, before the Ministry would start sticking their noses into their marriage.

And then, on the fourth morning, exactly what he’d been dreading had occurred: A Ministry owl had tapped at the window, disturbing his pensive stupor over another uneaten breakfast. With shaking hands he’d torn the red seal open, bile rising in his throat as he began to read.

A few moments later, the parchment had dropped to the table from numb fingers and had lain there, half-forgotten in the wake of the message it had contained, until Hermione returned some hours later.

Snape had, at some point, made his way into the sitting room, where he’d sat, dazed and bewildered, lost in thought half the day. The sound of her entering through the back door roused him, and slowly he stood to face the door through which he expected her to walk any moment. Motionlessly he waited, his ears straining to hear the crackling sound the parchment being opened enough to read.

When she’d finally appeared, her face had been pale and wan, but hard, as if expecting a confrontation. The parchment hung limply from her fingers. They stared at each other for a few moments, both unwilling to be the first to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out, unable to bear the silence any longer

Hermione sighed almost inaudibly. “There was nothing to tell, Severus,” she replied, her voice soft tired.

“Nothing to tell?” He’d stridden forward, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it up so the evidence of his displeasure was held suspended between them. “When did this happen?”

She’d winced briefly with the pressure of his fingers gripping her tightly, but otherwise had made no sign that he was hurting her. Severus relaxed his grip a little.

“I told you, nothing happened.”

Her unnatural calmness had only infuriated him more. “Then why does this letter tell me we’ve been excused from marital relations for a month.”

She’d pulled her hand free. “What do you want me to say, Severus? That I lied about the reasons why I needed a break from… this?” She’d gestured between them. “It’s not like I could tell them the truth, is it?”

He’d felt a wave of relief wash over him, although there were still questions he wanted answered before his anxiety could be assuaged. He pulled the letter from her hand to wave it at her accusingly. “You’re telling me you’ve deceived the Ministry? Should I expect the aurors to bang on the door to arrest us at any moment, or will this fiction manage to stand up to greater scrutiny?”

“You don’t need to worry,” she’d sneered back. “I managed to trade a favour with someone who would have even more to lose if they revealed our deal. The maternity unit at St Mungo’s will be receiving the full grant they requested, despite having already been warned that the application would be sure to fail. They won’t risk having to repay it all, not with the expected rise in births to come. And as for their side of the bargain, well, let’s just say they’re not exactly supporters of this bloody law, and can well understand the need for some respite from scheduled fucking.” She’d paused for a moment. “It does tend to take the romance out of it all somewhat, don’t you think?” she’d added, her voice bitter, before turning to leave.

“So… the child…?” he’d asked softly, all fight having gone out of him.

“There was never any child Severus. I assume you’d be relieved about that, in any case.”

He barely heard her climb the stairs towards her room, leaving him alone once more. Relief had coursed through him, although there was a strange twinge of disappointment that he couldn’t quite understand, considering he should have known there was no chance of a pregnancy. He’d sat back own in the chair he had occupied for so many hours today, automatically smoothing the parchment out over his lap as he tried to sort out his feelings. His fingers had unconsciously traced the words that had caused him so much distress; ‘…having recently suffered a miscarriage, the Ministry has excused you…”, but once he’d realised what he was doing he’d crumpled the letter into a ball, intending to throw it into the fire. At the last minute he thought better of it, realising that perhaps it would be needed in the future, and instead had thrown it into the seat she always occupied, and stormed down to his lab, where he’d proceeded to extract a bottle of firewhiskey from its hiding place and drink until he’d passed out in the single ratty armchair in the corner.

In its place on the chair a floor above, the parchment had slowly uncrumpled enough to reveal the odd half sentence, including the one which had so perturbed him until Hermione had revealed it all for the lie it was.

…

And now, those weeks apart at an end, Severus waited, torn between nervousness and impatience, for his wife to appear. His anxiety over her attitude and expectations as she returned to his bed were going to do him no favours, and by the time she did creep quietly into his room, he was so tense that he jumped out of bed to greet her, only remembering his nakedness when she stopped and stared in bewilderment at his strange behaviour.

His cheeks flushing a deep pink, he scrambled back into bed, abandoning his dignity completely when his feet tangled in the sheets, almost causing him to fall on his face. It was a few moments before he’d recovered his composure enough to look at her, so whether she’d found amusement in his clumsy performance he’d never know. Certainly there was no hint of mirth in her expression when he turned to face her.

She had already climbed in beside him, and was clearly in no mood to procrastinate, for, instead of pulling up the cover around her, she’d left it lying around her waist, and the lack of nightclothes left her naked to his gaze. Despite all of his earlier apprehension, he found his body responding eagerly to the sight of her. The last month had been almost unbearable, not being able to touch her after having become used to regular sex.

He reached out to caress her breasts, lowering his mouth to suck gently on one pink bud. He could feel her stiffen beneath him, and when he looked up at her, her eyes were closed but clearly not in pleasure, judging by the tension in her jaw. A desire to ensure her pleasure before his own led him to redouble his efforts at her breasts with his lips, gently running his fingers over the curves of her body. The small sigh that escaped her only encouraged him, and slowly his hand moved lower, until he was nudging her legs apart. But when he reached down to caress her hard nub she shifted, trapping his fingers so that he couldn’t continue.

“Please Severus… don’t…” She swallowed audibly. “…please don’t do that.” She turned her face away from him slightly, making it hard for him to read the expression in her eyes.

He felt something inside him harden. If that’s how she wants it… He tugged his hand free, and immediately her legs relaxed, easily parting once more as he moved over her to settle in between them.

“As you wish…” was his only reply before he slowly filled her. No longer caring for her pleasure, he only thought of his own as he thrust into her. Despite his earlier eagerness, it seemed to take an age before he felt his balls tighten, and looking down at her, her own impatience for him to finish was clear in the way she was staring fixedly at the ceiling. The feeling of accomplishment and relief when he finally emptied his seed into her was colossal, and he rolled straight off her onto his back, gasping with the exertion.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/30157341

Severus wiped his lips with a dirty sleeve, and reached out to twist the tap on. The contents of his stomach quickly disappeared down the drain. Cupping some water in his hands he rinsed his mouth out, the acrid taste of bile only fading somewhat as he spat it out into the sink. Abandoning the last shreds of his dignity he stuck his head under the tap and drank deeply.

When he’d had his fill he turned off the tap and stood again, but the quick movement made his head spin, and he had to clutch the work-surface once more to stop himself from falling over. After a few moment his head cleared, but he was left with a pulsing tightness at his temples that signalled an oncoming headache. Pain potions didn’t react well with alcohol, so he had two choices; either drown the ache with the remainder of the bottle that was still lying on the floor where he’d dropped it in the rush to the sink, or find a bottle of Sober-Up Potion before taking something for the pain.

Bending down – very slowly – to grab the bottle, he discovered that much of the remaining liquid had spilled out onto the floor and there were barely a few mouthfuls left. Not nearly enough to obliterate either pain or consciousness. The Sober-Up it would have to be, although he had no idea what to do with himself once he was no longer plastered, unless it was to go down to the dingy corner shop and stock up on cheap booze. He’d have to sleep off the dual potions before he could work on getting wasted again. Perhaps a Sleeping Draught and some Dreamless Sleep would be necessary in the meantime. There was no way he could risk seeing her in his dreams. The memories were hard enough to bear.

2 years earlier

  Even before their feet touched the ground she was pulling his smock coat from his shoulders, sliding her hands around his back to tug at his shirt where it was tucked in. With difficulty Severus reached round behind her to flick the buttons on his coat sleeves open so he could tug them off his wrists. She was on him then, feverishly pulling at his clothes and dragging him toward his bed. She pressed her lips to his newly exposed chest, his neck, anywhere she could reach. Severus watched her with dark eyes, just enjoying the feel of her mouth on him, encouraging her with gentle fingers winding through her hair and down her back, as he fought to hide his amazement at her unusually wanton behaviour.

Hermione finally managed to divest him of his shirt and push his trousers own over his hips, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another searing kiss. Unwilling to spoil the moment by doing something that might cause her to reconsider, Severus decide to take his cues from his wife and let her lead the encounter. Carefully he used his feet to pull his trousers completely off, and when Hermione began to pull at the ties keeping her backless dress on, he used his nimble fingers to help her.

As soon as the silk material slid down her body to pool at her feet she was guiding him backwards once more, and Severus let her push him down to the bed. Hermione paused for a moment to shimmy her knickers off, and he took the opportunity to take the sight in. It was certainly something he’d not seen fully before, as he’d not taken a moment to appreciate her beauty the night of their wedding, and of course he’d barely seen anything of her since, hidden as she always was beneath the sheet. But now he could admire fully the slight curve of her waist and hips, her breasts two perfect handfuls, her English Rose complexion flawless except for the scars that were a testament to her bravery.

She hesitated a moment longer, and although her posture seemed confident, when Severus looked up into her eyes he could see the slightest trace of insecurity. Her lips curved slightly as their eyes met, and he realised how obvious he was being in his admiration of her. He felt a tightening in his chest as it dawned on him that, despite her anxiety, she was taking full advantage of the rare chance to bask in his attention. Unable to look her in the eye, knowing that it had been his own conduct that was the cause of her misery, he grabbed her hand and tugged her towards him.

She fell into his arms, and they sank down together on the bed so that he was flat on his back with her creamy white thighs straddling him. Without any preliminaries she guided him into the warmth between her legs, hissing as he sank deep into her, wet as she already was. There was a moment’s hesitation before she lifted herself up, only to impale herself on him once more. The expression of pleasure on her face as he filled her made him groan and dig his fingers into her hips, encouraging her to move faster. He watched, his eyes fixed on her face as she unashamedly took her pleasure.

Her eyes were lidded, her teeth sunk deep into her lower lip in concentration as she began to move faster and faster. Severus couldn’t help but lift his hips to meet her. She was a completely different creature from the one that normally came to his bed; not even on their wedding night had she been so eager, so desperate to find completion with him.

Cupping his hands over the breasts that bounced gently with each movement of her body against his, he pulled lightly at the puckered buds, kneading the soft flesh with his rough and calloused fingers. She was so quick to reach her peak, crying out so sweetly as she threw her head back, that he was almost taken by surprise. The way she tightened around his hard length in response was almost too much, and he knew that if he didn’t take control it would be over far too quickly. He grabbed her hips, twisting her so she fell to bed, and rolled on top of her to settle back into the cradle of her hips.

Watching her face as he reached down to grab his cock and guide it into her, he didn’t miss the flicker of doubt that flashed across it. In a heartbeat he realised the reason –  he’d put her back into the same position that they used for their passionless union week after week. Wanting to distract her before the moment was ruined, he hooked one arm under her knee, lifting it to allow him to push deeper, and lowered his mouth to hers.

There was a few seconds’ hesitation where she didn’t respond, but soon she began to press her lips back against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking her hips against him as he began to move. Soon he was lost in her, barely aware of anything beyond the feel of her against and around him, her soft gasps in his ears, and the frantic pressing of their lips against every inch of skin that could be reached.

They moved as one for long minutes that seemed to pass as seconds, and slowly Severus became conscious of a strange feeling of rightness, that this was how things were supposed to be. It was quickly lost in the euphoria of his approaching orgasm. Wanting Hermione to topple over the edge once more before he came himself, he pushed himself up onto his knees, dragging her back down onto him and reaching again for her mouth with his. With one hand he reached between their bodies, using his thumb to flick gently at her swollen nub, as he began to pound into her more furiously than before.

Feeling her core beginning to pulse around him, he pulled back the moment before she came, wanting to see her face before he joined her. For the briefest second their eyes met, before her eyelids fluttered closed and her climax overcame her. Pressing his face into the hollow of her neck, Severus finally let go, grunting with pleasure as he spilled himself deep within her.

When he came back to his senses he realised how heavily he was sprawled on top of her, although she lay there silently, unprotesting. He rolled to one side, unconsciously pulling her with him, and, closing his eyes, waited for his heart to stop pounding. He didn’t want to spoil the moment by saying the wrong thing now. Not that he was… he could barely even think the word… ‘cuddling’ her. No, the bedroom was cold and the blanket too far away. And of course it didn’t feel all that pleasant to be lying there with her, it was just… convenient, especially after the amazing sex they’d just had. His arm was sure to go numb soon anyway, and then she’d have to move.

It took a few minutes for the post-orgasmic haze to recede while they lay there quietly. Severus was having a hard time deciding what, if anything, he should say to her. Slowly he opened his eyes to look down at her cautiously. She lay next to him, her head resting cautiously on his shoulder. Their legs were still entwined, but her eyes were wide and fearful. She seemed like a deer caught in headlights; frozen for a moment but ready to bolt in a second.  

Trailing his eyes down her, he could already see where she’d begun to bruise from his fingers digging hard into her hips. He couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face at the physical proof of his recent claiming of her. But Hermione must have misinterpreted the expression, for she flinched, and shrunk back from him slightly.

They stared at each other silently for a few moments before she spoke, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear.

“Severus…?”

She shifted to sit up, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes dropped to her pert breast as they jiggled gently with her movement.

“Severus… say something please,” she pleaded.

“What do you want me to say?” he enquired harshly, irritated that the relaxed mood had been so easily interrupted.

“Wha… what was this?”

“If you don’t know what sex is by now, I’m not sure you deserve the moniker of ‘brightest witch of you Age after all.” The cutting words seemed to fall automatically from his lips. “What else did you think it was? Did you expect for me to confess my feelings for you?” The moment the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back.

She started grabbing the sheet and pulling it up around her naked body. One part of him watched with regret as her glorious breasts disappeared from sight.

“I thought, maybe… I hoped…” she trailed off, her head bowed. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

The smirk faded from his face as he searched for the right words that would stop things from going back to the way they had been. But his mind was blank. He had no honeyed words to whisper in her ear. He didn’t know how to sweet-talk and flatter a woman. Even with the Dark Lord he had never been able to reproduce the nauseating fawning and adulation that Lucius had always been so good at. Half a lifetime spent in a household where angry words and fists to the face had been the norm had not prepared him for how to treat or speak to others well, although it had drawn him earlier than expected into the inner circle his bluntness and candour appreciated by a Lord surrounded by sycophants.

With a start, he realised that Hermione was already scrambling from the bed, tugging the sheet from where it was tucked under one corner of the mattress, and dragging it with her. She turned to leave, the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He had to say something. If she left now things may well be irreparable.

“Hermione, I…”

She turned on him suddenly, the misery that had been on her face a few moments before turned to anger. “You what? Just needed a good fuck? Or was it because you didn’t like Lucius playing with your toys?”

He felt his own temper flare at the memory of watching the two of them dance. “Lucius had no right to speak to you like that,” he growled, scrambling out of bed to loom over her. “You are mine, whether you like it or not.”

“So it wasn’t that you were jealous of the fact that someone else might actually desire me?”

He sneered. “You are mistaken. Lucius has always played his own game. Whatever you thought he was offering you I can assure you it was not that. Besides, I thought that after all this time that you were more intelligent than to put stock in any of Potter’s ridiculous fancies about me.”

“Oh, I knew Harry would come into this sooner or later,” she spat back at him.

“And why not? I heard more than enough of your earlier conversation to know that he is sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong. How we conduct our marriage is none of his business.”

“He’s my friend. He’s allowed to be concerned.”

“He was impugning my honour and my position as your husband.”

“Your position…,” Hermione choked out. “So all this…” she waved her hand at the untidy bed, “was to prove a point… to Harry.” The last words came out as a hiss.

Frustrated with his own inability to stop his marriage disintegrating further he snapped, uttering words he knew he would regret later. “Don’t forget Lucius too. Both of them chose to discuss the state of our marriage, so I thought they would appreciate a demonstration. You should have seen both his and Potter’s faces as they watched you trembling with arousal in my arms. Perhaps they will think twice next time before discussing things which are not their business!”

She froze, her mouth half open in the process of forming a retort when his words fully hit her. She stared at him in shock for a moment before her face shuttered and all emotion drained from her face. Her eyes however, reflected so much hurt and suffering that he could barely look at her.

“I see.” Her voice was cold. “So our marriage is nothing more than a performance for the benefit of others.”

Shit! How had things spiralled so quickly out of control? “That’s not…”

“In which case, I would appreciate it if next time you informed me of the part you expect me to play, so I know better how to act in front of our audience.” She looked him up and down slowly, the slightest hint of feigned disgust in the way her lips curled at the sight, and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that he was still naked. “I would also prefer it if you left the pantomime at the door in future. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to develop any false ideas about what you might be feeling.

He could feel his chest tightening with every word she uttered. “No, Hermione… I…”

“You what? You’re sorry? Or were you going to say that you love me?” She laughed mirthlessly. “Don’t worry, you’ve completely managed to disabuse me from any notion I may have in that regard. I won’t be so foolish to consider it possible again.”

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Slowly Severus sank down to the bed, head in hands. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d had it all within his reach, and he’d fucked it up yet again. Why was he so incapable of uttering three little words that, while a lie, would have given him exactly what he wanted? The thought of the long years ahead, so close and yet so far from what he wanted; his wife coming willingly to his bed, seemed insurmountable, even more so now he had experienced all her passion and enthusiasm mere minutes previous.

Why did the girl insist on wanting him to feel something for her? Why couldn’t they just take enjoyment from each other and live amicably together? They were clearly capable of both, as the years of ‘friendship’ before their engagement and the excellent sex attested. How could she expect him to feel something for her when he’d made it clear that his heart belonged to Lily?

But why did his chest hurt when he thought of the look on her face as she had fled his room, and why did the idea of carrying on the pretence of a happy marriage outside these four walls while the truth was so very contradictory fill him with dread? After all, he had everything he wanted: A wife intelligent and independent enough to not drive him insane, and one he desired enough not to chafe against the Ministry imposed regulations. They could have had a comfortable life together. They were both highly intelligent and practical. Why did love have to come into it? Love caused nothing but pain. He wanted none of it.

His chest was now so tight that he’d curled up into a ball and had pressed his arms hard against in a effort to relieve the ache. Severus wondered if he’d actually pulled a muscle during sex, or if he’d eaten something at the ball that was disagreeing with him stomach. For a few moments he debated whether or not to retrieve a Pain Potion from the bathroom cupboard, but the possibility of coming across Hermione in the hall made him dismiss the idea. He couldn’t bear it if she saw him like this, and just the thought of moving from his bed now seemed impossible.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/28943622

Severus stumbled back towards his living room, intent on reaching the sideboard where he normally had at least one bottle hidden from his wife… ex-wife. He’d needed a good glass or two most evenings, to steel himself or climbing the stairs and into his lonely bed, all the while knowing that she was only two doors away. Occasionally, when he’d been in a particularly foul mood, he’d compared the current situation to the years of longing after Lily, and some nights it was barely all he’d been able to do to not to go to Hermione and beg for forgiveness.

But he’d done that once before, and all he’d got for his troubles was a refusal and the mockery of even more of his school mates than usual. A little voice, quickly pushed aside, had sometimes whispered that perhaps his Hermione was different, that it would work out this time. She’d always been a forgiving sort. Severus snorted hard at the understatement. The Golden Trio would never have got together without her being so, and who know what would have happened to Potter if she hadn’t been there to do all the work.

The thought made him feel sick – although, on second though, that was possibly the alcohol. His stomach was beginning to lurch just as much as he was. Serves me right for thinking about Potter…

2 years earlier

He was hiding in the corner of the ballroom at one of the Ministry’s blasted public functions again, watching Potter twirl his wife around the room. It was the third such large event since they’d been married; one to commemorate the fourth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the other had been some Ministry half-wit’s ridiculous idea to celebrate all the new marriages, as well as trying to throw together all those who had not yet found a partner. He’d not been able to get out of the former, due to his hero status, and although he’d tried to get out of the latter, Lucius had tricked him into going through the bastard had already known he wouldn’t lose. He’d still not revealed why he’d wanted Severus to attend, although he had a sneaky suspicion that because Lucius had to be there, he wanted someone else there to share in his misery.

Misery wasn’t the word for it though. The ball had been held on Valentine’s Day in the atrium of the Ministry; the only venue large enough to hold the large numbers of people attending. Severus had been forced to endure hours of sickening public displays of affection, heart-shaped everything – decorations, food, furniture – cupids everywhere, and everything covered in nauseating shades of pink. Even the fountain had been charmed to produce pink and red jets of water, and lightly scented bubbles floated up from the pool to float over the horde of idiots cavorting to the insipid and overly-sentimental music.

And now he was stuck at a ball to celebrate the full re-opening of Hogwarts. Not that it had ever been closed, the school had opened to pupils the September following the Battle, but the repairs had only been completely finished over this last summer, and both Severus and his wife had been expected to go. Not that Severus cared about other’s expectations but he knew how important it was for Hermione to attend, and with him too.

She’d finally been promoted to where her research and organisational skills were of some use. Of course, if it had been left up to her she never would have moved out of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and would have forever been stuck with letting others take the credit for her hard work. A couple of weeks after their wedding Severus had had a quiet world or two with the right people about the waste of her talents, and a months later she’d been offered a job on the Minister of Magic’s staff, as an assistant and researcher. Severus would be damned if he would allow his wife to continue to be treated the way she had been for so long. As far as he was concerned, her behaviour and status reflected upon him. No wife of his was going to be treated like a workhorse. It would only make him look bad after all.

Of course, the downside was that Hermione was expected to attend all the Ministry events, not just the balls, but a number of smaller functions too. It wasn’t proper amongst the society that Severus kept for her not to be accompanied by her husband. Perhaps the younger generations, Hermione included, wouldn’t have cared so much about the old-fashioned etiquette, but Severus had grown up amongst the Purebloods of Slytherin, and had always compared their courteous treatment of their women favourably with the way his own muggle father had treated his mother. However disbelievingly Hermione looked at him when he declared he would be accompanying her, Severus wouldn’t be moved in his beliefs of how they should behave as a couple.

Putting on a show of a ‘happy’ marriage, even when the reality was nothing but, was another thing he had picked up from the pureblood families. He’d watched Lucius and Narcissa do it for several years, although the final death of the Dark Lord had brought them back together again, and there were many other families who had been similarly torn, although it would have taken someone as perceptive as Severus to notice. Likewise, he was loathe for anyone to know what a fuck up he’d made of his own marriage so quickly.

Despite everything, life had quickly settled down into an easy routine. He had never got into the habit of falling asleep early, and so Hermione was almost always up and sometimes gone before he dragged himself out of bed. She would always make breakfast, and they would either eat in near silence as she caught up with the morning papers, while he started blearily into his coffee, or she would put it under a charm for him if he was late getting up. She was a surprisingly good cook. Hermione had, however, made it clear very quickly that she wasn’t prepared to do all the work around the house. It had been the cause of their first argument; he never counted the night of their wedding; although not the first. When Hermione had told him she refused to live in a dirty house, he had blown up at the thought of her touching his things, in particular his collection of books and his lab.

He’d only realised later, once he had agreed to keeping the house clean and split other chores, with her doing the majority of the cooking, how easily she’d manipulated him into doing what she wanted in the first place. He still got the last laugh; hiring a free house-elf called Minky to come in to clean when Hermione was out had barely cost him anything. Of course he didn’t allow the eager creature to touch either his lab or his books, but he had always kept them meticulously clean himself. And he or meals cooked or him, far better than he could make himself, so in all, he felt rather smug about the whole situation.

Of course, once Hermione had started her new job she would quite often be home late. If it was something she knew about in advance, she would make sure he knew, but if some last-minute business came up she’d send a patronus. On those occasions Snape would call for Minky and ask her to cook something. It was part of their agreement, as was the stipulation that the elf was never allowed to let Hermione know she’d been there. And of course, Hermione was always grateful when she arrived him late to find warm food waiting for her, especially considering she often didn’t get time during the day to grab more than a snack or two. Not grateful enough to show me in bed though…

It wasn’t just in bed that they were still distant, they avoided each other most of the day, only coming together in the living room or an hour or so before bed if neither was working. They’d sit mainly in silence as they each read, or in Hermione’s case, occasionally knitted. Conversation was kept to a minimum, and although the silence was pervasive, it was never hostile. Severus could have almost believed it was Lily sitting across from him, not that she’d ever been forgiving enough to cope with him loving another a woman the way Hermione had.

The lack of conversation between him and his wife did at times feel strange though, considering how they’d always enjoyed their time out together before their marriage, but he would force himself to consider the alternatives, like being married to one of the harlots that had thrown themselves at him, the decorated war-hero; that still on occasion would proposition him, especially at these types of events when they believed Hermione to be too busy, or even indifferent to notice. But even the most alluring witches couldn’t tempt him anymore. He found them all vain and insipid, and couldn’t bring himself to bed any of them.

He told himself it just wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause if Hermione found out he’d been shagging other women. It wasn’t like he wasn’t getting any, what with the two nights a week he had with Hermione, unsatisfying as they were. And as gorgeous as some of these women were, he couldn’t help but compare them to Hermione, who despite not being as beautiful, had other attributed that more than made up for it. It was why he had wanted to marry her over any other, after all. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her, he realised, after careful observations over several balls. He’d lost count of how many dance partners she’d had, a number of which he didn’t know at all, and there were many more men who watched her out of the corner of their eyes as they conversed with friends, or stole the occasional glance at her when their own partners weren’t looking.

What if one of them were to tempt her the way these fame-seeking women sought to tempt him? There were many younger and more handsome men out there, might she not cheat on him with one of them? Six months ago Severus would never have considered it, but he was no longer sure of her regard. Perhaps their dismal marriage and his unfortunate confession regarding Lily had made her change her mind. Which made the whole plan that he’d been forming to make his life a little more pleasant utterly futile. He’d been thinking of starting to slowly treat her differently, to do little thing over a period of time and build up to making it appear as if he were slowly falling for her. He wanted to see again the impassioned woman who had graced his bed that first night, to try to convince her to sleep with him more often. She’d never come to him like that again, and he’d soon grown covetous of the passion she’d shown that night. He found himself trying to anger her on purpose, just because he enjoyed the way she got riled up. But if she was going to be unfaithful to him, then he wasn’t prepared to open himself up to such a rejection. He would just have to make the most of what he had, and forget the whole idea.

Severus suppressed a deeper scowl as Potter whirled his wife around faster, making her throw her head back and laugh. She never did that with him; laugh and smile so carelessly. They never danced beyond the bare minimum of the one dance that was expected, and even then she was stiff in his arms, her eyes somber even as she pasted a smile on her face. He’d release her to dance with whatever idiot had asked her for the next dance, and retreat. Luckily, as far as his own behaviour went, everyone would have been beyond shocked if he had actually been sociable.  

So instead he stood in the shadows, watching as she lit up a room, want to be by her side to bask in her light, but he knew as soon as he did she would lose some of her shine, and he refused to spoil these evenings for her, knowing how important they were for her job. Time and time again he’d watched her at public functions, as he did now, getting wound up about some subject or another, and he would always want to snatch her back home, jealous of whomever the recipient of her happy smile was, and fuck her into the mattress. He’d taken to watching her from the shadows with greedy eyes, not caring that his behaviour had lapsed back to how it had been during his time at Hogwarts. He would forever be the greasy old bat of the dungeons to most, lurking on the periphery was all that was expected of him anyway.

Knowing that he would be the one to take her home, rather than any of the dunderheads surrounding her was the only thing that got him though most of those evenings. When it came to any of their interactions, he would always play the doting husband, making sure to bring her drinks to offer his arm to lead her to the apparition point, but as soon as they appeared in his house he would stalk away from her with a scowl, unable to look at his…The bloody events never seemed to fall on the two days a week she would come to his room. He could have sworn she came up with her outfits just to tease him: low backs that made him want to skim his fingers down her spine, soft drapes that clung to her things, high slits that showed off the long legs that had once wrapped so eagerly around his waist. He was constantly torn between hating her and a burning desire to drag her into a dark corner, pull her knickers aside and plunge into her warm heat.

He started, growling under his breath as a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, disrupting the fantasy he was engrossed in, although considering that he now no longer wore his voluminous teaching robes the interruption was probably a good thing. He looked over to see Lucius standing beside him, a smirk plastered across his face, and sighed silently. His friend never missed the chance to poke fun at how uncomfortable Severus always was at these events. Of course, Lucius was in his element here, dressed like a peacock in his pale blue robes, and sweeping around the hall, making easy conversation with everyone in the room. Severus wasn’t sure how his friend had the gall to set foot in the castle, considering the events of only a few years ago, let alone saunter around like he owned the place.

He turned back to watch the dance floor, and caught Potter releasing Hermione into the arms of a wizard he recognised as one of the higher-up Ministry flunkey’s that Lucius sometimes had dealings with.

“I see you are having as much fun as you normally do,” came the voice from beside him. Severus deigned not to make a reply to such an asinine statement. After a few moment Lucius spoke again. “Your wife certainly seems to be enjoying herself.”

Severus felt something in his stomach twist as Hermione dipped her head and smiled at something the flunkey dancing with her had said. “She has the correct disposition for this sort of event,” he replied absently.

“She certainly does seem to be popular. I understand she’s become quite the person to go to if you want anything done efficiently and correctly. Monty says he doesn’t know how his office managed to get anything done before she joined them. It seems it won’t be long until she’ll be getting a promotion, and he’s already raised her salary twice.”

Severus only raised an eyebrow in response, unwilling to admit his lack of knowledge concerning Hermione’s success. Not that he was surprised. He could well imagine how quickly she’d made herself indispensable in an office that was infamous for its disorganisation and lack of acumen. The recently elected Minister, Montgomery Tuft was marginally better than his predecessors in that he’d recognised the value of utilising Hermione’s skills and proficiency to his own advantage. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the smug smile that flashed across Lucius’ face. Clearly he’d caught on to the frigid nature of their marriage, and was no doubt feeling pleased with himself for warning Severus not to marry her in the first place. Not that he would ever say such a thing outright.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

They stood side by side for a few minutes longer, exchanging light conversation about various goings on in the wizarding world, as they both watched Hermione’s progress around the floor. Despite Severus’ lack of interest in politics, he’d always found it useful to keep abreast of any news Lucius had for him. It had lead him to make several good investments in the past, the proceeds of which had gone towards supporting him while he set up his potions business. It also now meant he kept up to date with what was happening in the office that Hermione worked in, not that he really cared, of course.

Across the room, Hermione swapped partners yet again, this time for Ronald Weasley. Severus let out a faint hiss if disgust as one of his meaty hands came to rest just a little too low on Hermione’s back. By the look on her face, she didn’t seem to notice, although the Brown girl, standing off to one side with a gaggle of friends just as insipid as she, looked unhappy at the sight of her husband mauling another woman.

“I am surprised you haven’t yet taught her to choose her associates more wisely.” Severus could almost feel the sneer on Lucius’ face as he spoke, and he briefly looked across to see the blonde aristocrat’s eyes lingering on his wife, before a speculative expression passed across his face, almost too quickly for Severus to spot. After a moment he followed Lucius’ gaze back to the dancefloor and the offending hand.

“All things considered, Lucius, that, coming from either of us, would be the pot calling the cauldron black. Besides, who am I to break up the… Golden Trio.” He spat the last two words, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.”

“But all that…unpleasantness is already half forgotten.” Lucius waved a hand as if to dismiss the horrors of their shared past, and Severus had to wonder at his friend’s selective memory. “Since then your wife may have become a… desirable acquaintance, but Weasely in particular is yesterday’s celebrity. His Quidditch contract is up at the end of the season, and I understand he’s not enough of a draw anymore to extend it. He only got the position because of his fame in the first place. It certainly wasn’t his skill in front of the hoops.”

Severus could only nod in agreement. His eyes were still fixed to the hand that was very slowly moving lower as the dancing continued.

“The whole family is a joke in any case, in decent circles at least,” Lucius continued, his voice growing even more haughty than usual. “Only the two eldest boys are worth mentioning, but even they are tainted by association. And Arthur only gets more ridiculous by the day. Can you imagine, there was actually talk at one point of him becoming Minister? What a mess that would have been!”

Severus was barely aware of anything his friend was saying by now. What was Weasely thinking, creating such a display in front of so many, including his own wife? Severus would have been equally as displeased with Hermione for allowing it, had she not at that moment shifted subtly in Weasley’s arms, just enough to force him to bring his hand back up to an respectable distance from her arse. Severus could only just hide his smile at her skilled way of handling the idiot without drawing attention to them both.  

“Well if you are not going to intervene, perhaps I might… entice her to spend some time with a worthier partner than her current choice instead.”

Severus turned to frown at his friend, for there had been some strange undertone in his words, but Lucius didn’t notice, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched the couple on the dancefloor. The song changed, and Lucius took the cue to stride confidently towards Hermione. Severus watched with dark eyes as he bowed over her hand, before sweeping her away from Weasely into the next dance. Weasely stood for a moment with a slightly stunned look on his face before he shuffled off the floor towards his wife. Severus smirked at him for a moment before his attention was drawn back to the dancers.

From where he was standing he could clearly see how closely Lucius held Hermione against him as he leaned down to whisper close in her ear. Somehow it seemed far worse than the way Weasely had clumsily tried to grope her. Unconsciously Severus took a few steps closer. As the duo turned slightly, he could see the uncomfortable expression on her face, and he was sure it was nothing to do with either Lucius’ status as an ex-DeathEater, or the remembrance of what had happened to her in his house. Since their engagement, the two had met many times, both publically and privately, and while they’d never be best friends, they both got on as well as could be expected. In fact, it hadn’t been until Severus had questioned why the Malfoys seemed to have stopped using the large drawing room that he’d even found out about dear Bellatrix’s torture of his wife.

He’d still not seen the scars she’d been left with, although now that he knew to look, he could just make out a slightest flicker of the glamour she wore over it. She’d never said anything, and certainly nothing in her behaviour suggested that either meeting with the Malfoys, or entering the Manor affected her in any way. He’d almost refused to take her back there, but had known she wouldn’t be happy with him assuming she couldn’t cope. She was stronger than she looked, his wife. Which is why he found her current expression so worrying. What was Lucius saying to her? And what gave him the right to hold her so tightly against him?

Severus was now almost at the edge of the dancers, his eyes fixed on Hermione as Lucius guided her round the floor towards him. As they neared, their eyes met around Lucius’ shoulder, and he could have sworn a slight smile of relief ghosted across her lips for a moment before she turned her attention back to Lucius, her expression hardening. He took another involuntary step towards then, onto the floor, intending to step in, before he realised that Hermione had already brought them to a halt only a few paces away. Severus moved closer to hear Hermione’s reply to something Lucius had said.

“No, thank you Lucius, I think I’ll pass,” she said decisively, turning away from him.

Severus smirked to see her confident dismissal of the blonde patriarch. Lucius began to move towards her again, opening his mouth to continue speaking. Severus irritation with his friend peaked, but instead of causing a scene, he crossed the remaining distance in a few smooth steps and pulled his wife into his own arms.

“Maybe another time, then,” Severus heard his friend say, before he swept Hermione away.

Hermione didn’t respond, and it was a few moments before Severus stopped glaring at the smirking blonde and bent his attention to her, even as he wondered what they had been talking about. Her face was turned slightly away from his, her eyes downcast and a slight blush on her cheeks. They danced in silence for a few minutes, Severus unconsciously holding her closer against him than even Lucius had. All the Gryffindor ‘fierceness’ which he’d seen in her when she’d refused whatever his friend has wanted had left her face. He wondered, not for the first time, why she was only ever calm and gentle, when he knew he deserved whatever she could throw at him, and then more.

“What did Lucius want?” he blurted, no longer able to contain his curiosity.

Hermione’s mouth twitched slightly, as if with distaste before she looked up at him. “Oh, nothing really.” Her shrug was almost imperceptible.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she paused, making it clear he wasn’t satisfied with her answer.

After a pause she continued. “He was only talking about the ball and how well Hogwarts looked this evening after the last of the renovations.”

How…tactful, Severus thought as they continued on round the dancefloor, considering just why the castle needed any work doing to it in the first place. “What else?” he asked, knowing that it would have taken more to cause her earlier expression. She held his gaze, and for a moment he thought she was going to deny that Lucius had said anything else. He pushed lightly into her mind for the first time since their marriage, but was met with a blank wall. Strange… She’d always been easy to read before. He was about to push further in when she sighed, dropping her eyes before she spoke.

“He wanted to know if I wanted a tour of the new and renovated areas of the castle. There have been more than a few changes since the last time I came.”

Severus studied the faint blush that spread over her cheeks with distrust. He was fairly sure what had caused it, and why Lucius had made her so discomposed. “Go on,” he growled quietly.

Her face crumpled slightly, and she squirmed in his arms. “Severus, you’re hurting me,” she whispered, pushing gently at him without trying to be too obvious.

He ignored her. “What did he say?”

“He hinted that if I joined him he would be more than happy to find an empty room and show me what I was missing out on with you,” she hissed. “Now let me go!”

Realising just how tightly he was crushing her to him, he let go, bringing them both to a halt. “Perhaps we should continue this at home.” His voice was cold and formal, and he could feel his temper rising, despite the curl of guilt that wound through it from having caused her pain, but he managed to keep all traces of anger from his countenance. He watched as she thought for a moment, no doubt trying to decide whether it was acceptable for her to be leaving yet.

“I’ll need ten minutes to say goodbye to a few people. Maybe you could give our thanks to Minerva and Filius, and I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall.

He nodded curtly, offering his arm to her to lead her off the dance floor, where they parted and went their separate ways. He looked for Lucius for a few minutes, but he had disappeared completely. In the end he did as requested and went to find his old colleagues. They were both unsurprised to find him going home early, but had hoped to see a bit more of Hermione during the course of the evening. They managed to extract a promise that he would ask her to get in contact to arrange a visit before he could manage to escape. He chose to exit the Hall by the teacher’s route instead of battling through the crowds to the doors at the far end, and stalked quickly through the empty corridors back to the main entrance. He became aware of a faint whisper of voice from around the corner, and upon realising one was his wife’s he stopped dead, before creeping closer to listen.

“…have to go early?” Potter was saying.

“It’s been a really busy week, Harry. I’m tired and I just want to go home.”

“Is everything all right? You didn’t look too happy just now with Malfoy, nor Snape either,” he replied, the concern in his voice clear.

And why the fuck would that be your business, Potter? Severus thought.

“It’s nothing, really. Lucius was just being a bit of an arse, that’s all.”

“It didn’t look like nothing. You should have seen Snape’s face when he was watching you. He looked so angry when you were dancing with Malfoy, I was worried he was going to pull his wand.”

There was a moment of quiet, before Hermione murmured a reply, too quiet for Severus to make out.

“Is everything ok… with you and Snape, I mean?”

Severus could feel his blood begin to boil. Who was Potter to interfere between him and his wife?

“Everything’s fine, Harry.”

If he believed that, he was a fool, Severus thought. He could hear the strain in her voice from round the corner, and he knew from experience Hermione could never keep a lie from showing on her face.

“But…”

“Harry Potter…”

Severus smirked to hear the tone of her voice. He recognised it all to well from years of listening to Hermione berating her two obtuse sidekicks. She’d only used it once on Severus, thank Merlin. Once was more than enough. He could only imagine the look on Potter’s face, but it lessened his anger a little.

“Can you can honestly say that there is nothing but total agreement between you and Ginny every moment of every day? Do I butt in on your relationship all the time? It is none of your business what happens between my husband and me. If I want your help or advice I will ask you for it.”

There was a few seconds of silence, and he could only guess at the scene: The famous Boy who Lived Twice would be staring at the floor, his face red and bashful, in front of a fiery, riled-up Hermione. He wondered if there were even sparks crackling in her hair. His cock twitched at the thought. He’d always loved the sight of her all wound up and passionate, and the fact that she was defending him to Potter made him want her even more.

Severus chose this moment to emerge from his hiding place around the corner, and, despite the lack of billow from the absent teaching robes, still managed to cut an intimidating figure as he strode towards them. It was just as he had imagined, his wife with her back to him, hands on hips, and a shamefaced Potter before her. The latter quickly spotted Severus over Hermione’s shoulder, and with a hastily muttered goodbye, left in the other direction, walking slightly faster that was natural.

As Severus came up behind Hermione, she whirled to face him. For a moment he saw some emotion, not anger or irritation, flare in her eyes at the sight of him before it was quickly shuttered.

“I’m ready to go now, Severus,” she said quietly.

He moved closer, intrigued not only by the fleeting expression he’d seen, but also her suddenly shifting demeanour. How could she be so assertive with Potter one second and then so reserved with him the next? He was fed up of seeing her so reticent, so restrained around him. As he moved closer her scent washed over him, delicately spicy, and as he gazed down into her amber eyes he felt the last flush of anger washed away with a tide of rising desire. He wanted her. He fought against the impulse to pull her into his arms and ravish those plump lips with his own, even as his fingers trailed down her exposed spine, but the moment he spotted how Potter was lingering at the entrance back into the main hall, watching them cautiously, Severus threw caution to the wind.

Wrapping his arms around her, he ignored the way her eyes widened in surprise, and pressed his mouth to hers. It took a moment for her to respond, but when he flicked his tongue against her slightly parted lips, she relented and opened them to him as her hands came round to clutch at his back. Severus quickly lost himself in the sweet taste of her, pouring out all the pent-up passion he’d kept from her the last few months. He pulled her tighter against him as his fingers finally got to explore the warm skin of her back. Her quiet moan into his mouth as she melted into his embrace suddenly brought him back to the moment, and he pulled back slightly to look down into her flushed face, her eyes dazed with arousal.

Peeking over her head to where Potter still stood, his mouth gaping slightly Severus saw that a couple of others had also made their way into the entrance, presumably also leaving early, and were sending a few amused glances down the corridor towards them. To his annoyance he was sure he’d just caught sight of the younger Creevey boy ducking back into the Great Hall, camera in hand, but it was made up for by the fact that Lucius had also paused to watch, some Ministry official that he was no doubt dragging off to have a quiet chat with by his side.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/27772809

Severus took another large sip from the bottle, noting with alarm that there now seemed to be more air than liquid inside. He was definitely going to need more if he was going to be able to drown out the memory of one of the most utterly stupid things he'd ever done.

The thought of her, wanton and needy for his touch as she had been that first night made his heart clench, just as it had done the morning he'd woken up cold and alone. Of course, back then he'd attributed it to indigestion, but now, despite the drink fuelled haze, he could view his own past feelings with a clearer eye than he'd had at the time. Even then, he'd loved her. He was unfamiliar enough with the emotion to not be able to pinpoint the exact moment his infatuation with he had become more.

He had wanted her or so long, perhaps he had confused love with obsession. After all, he had managed it the other way round for so many years. He had been obsessed with Lily, he could understand that now that he had something to compare his feelings to. But as strongly as he'd tried to hold onto his want for her, it had not been long before thoughts of his new wife had pushed the memories aside.

2 years, 5 months earlier

It didn't take long for him to realise why he'd woken up alone. Upon exiting his bedroom he'd noticed the door to the smaller bedroom at the back, his room as a child, was slightly ajar. Silently he'd approached and peeked in. What he'd seen had caused him to push the door open wide and step in. For years the room had been bare, ever since he'd cleared out the sad remnants of his childhood and moved into what had been his parents' bedroom. The memories weren't as strong there; he'd rarely been allowed to enter. Even as a young child he'd known not to go in, even if he was sick in the night, for fear of his father's anger. His own room, however, had seen so much of his own neglect, beatings from his father, years of cowering in his bed like a coward as he listened to him rage and batter his mother downstairs. He'd stripped both his old room and his parents' the summer he'd been required to stay at home by the Dark Lord, but while he'd replaced the furnishing's in the latter, he'd just vanished everything from his own room, leaving nothing but a few battered pieces of furniture, plain whitewashed walls and dusty floorboards.

But now, the room was crammed with colour, the barren remains of his childhood hidden behind bright rugs, piles of books and various knick-knacks. The shabby old bed had been repaired and was made up with deep purple covers. His old wardrobe and bedside cabinet had been similarly treated, and the former now held a lamp which he recognised from Hermione's old flat. In fact, he realised as he looked around, he remembered seeing most items before; the oak bookcase that was already overloaded, the rug from in front of her fire, a small old-fashioned writing desk now tucked under the small, pokey window.

How she'd got it all in the tiny room he wasn't sure, and he wondered what she'd done with the rest of the stuff from her flat until he remembered just how adept she was with a shrinking charm. She'd sold the flat not long before the wedding and had moved into Grimmauld Place temporarily. Clearly she had shrunk her belongings into the smallish trunk that Potter had brought over the night before the wedding.

Looking around at the space she'd carved out for herself, Severus could feel his fury mounting, not only at the fact that she was clearly planning on sleeping in the room and not with him, but that she'd changed it without permission. It was his house. He ignored the voice that reminded him that actually, no it was hers now as well. He turned quickly and swept out of the room to seek and confront her.

He found her in the kitchen, her back to him, hands still wrapped round a now-empty mug. He almost turned and snuck back out, unsure of what to say to her. But then, with a sigh, she stood suddenly, picking up her mug as she pushed her chair back. Without thinking, her name fell quietly from his lips:

"Hermione…"

He'd come in so quietly that she was startled, almost dropping her mug. She turned towards him, and his angry words died in his throat. She'd clearly been crying, the glamours he could just make out on her face not quite enough to mask the red around her eyes. But no amount of magic could erase the sadness evident in them, which was perhaps why she quickly shied away from meeting his gaze and forced a more cheerful expression onto her face.

"I made breakfast, although I wasn't sure when you'd be up so it's been sitting under a warming charm." She started to busy herself with tidying away her own plate, and grabbed his from the kitchen surface, setting it on the table. "Would you like some coffee?"

Severus watched her whirl around the kitchen from his position by the door. His new wife was clearly nervous of him. Perhaps she was worried about his reaction to her redecoration. And well she should be… It wasn't until she was laying out his breakfast on the table that he finally moved, striding across to her and catching hold of her wrist as she finished putting his coffee down.

"Hermione…" he repeated gruffly, ready to confront her about the bedroom.

She stilled, face down, offering no resistance to his tight grip. Silently he waited, and after a few moments she slowly lifted her head. He wasn't sure whether it was the spiritless look in her eyes or the way her hand trembled beneath his fingers that did it, but suddenly his anger dissipated as if it had never been. Finding it suddenly difficult to look down into her warm honey eyes, his gaze fell on the breakfast she'd made for him. It was his favourite; eggs benedict. He frowned slightly. He was sure he'd never told her that. Perhaps it was just coincidence that she'd chosen to make it for him. For all he knew it could be her favourite too.

"Severus…" came the quiet whisper from beside him, and with a start he realised that he had been squeezing her wrist harder than necessary. He let go of her, and immediately she tucked her hand behind her back, her face a pale mask. Refusing to apologise – after all, it was her fault that he was irritated with her that morning, he sat down at the table and pulled the plate towards him.

It was perfect, the eggs were the consistency that he preferred – not as runny as was usual with this dish, and the hollandaise tasted just the way he'd convinced the house elves at Hogwarts to prepare his a few years previously. It was hard to enjoy, however, when he could feel something that felt horribly like shame curdling in his stomach. He could only conclude that she'd gone to the effort of finding out exactly what he liked as a special surprise. Why she'd still bothered to make it for him after what he'd said to her the previous night he wasn't sure.

He only turned round to speak to her once he'd emptied his plate and finished the last sip of his coffee, having taken his time to decide what to say to her, but the kitchen was empty. He'd not even heard her leave.

Instead of going after her, he collected the book he was currently working his way through and retreated to his lab in the basement, where he spent the rest of the day brewing and reading – not hiding, of course. He didn't emerge until past 8, when his stomach was beginning to hurt from lack of food since breakfast. Hoping Hermione had eaten already he slipped quietly into the kitchen, intending to find something in the cupboard and disappear back downstairs until late. No such luck. How long she'd actually been waiting for him he wasn't sure, but it had been long enough for her to cast a warming charm over the large pot in the centre of the table. Again he thought of retreating, but she'd clearly heard him already, for she turned suddenly, and upon seeing him, beckoned for him to join her. Smoothing out his frown before it had even begun to form on his face, he slunk around the table and sat down. What was she up to? Why was she treating him so nicely, when his own experience with upset women told him they liked to get noisy and cry a lot?

Conversation over their meal was almost non-existent, with Hermione occasionally breaking the silence to ask him questions about the house, where certain objects were, and the way he preferred things to be done around the house. His answers were short and to the point, and often consisted of little more than him telling her what she was not allowed to touch or use. The longer they sat, the easier it was to tell just how hard she was trying to keep her emotions under control. In the lull between questions he would catch the way her carefully constructed expression would waver, and the sadness would creep back into her eyes. The topic of their sleeping arrangements seemed to be the elephant in the room, despite Severus wanting to confront her over it. But there was something about the atmosphere that he didn't want to ruin. It was a glimpse at the peaceful home life he'd never had growing up, especially if he ignored the underlying tension between the two of them, and he wanted to pretend a little longer that all was well.

It was still torture, sitting across from her and knowing that despite their newly married status, that he most assuredly would not be enjoying the delights that he would have he'd been able to keep his damn mouth shut. Even in her misery, with dulled eyes and pale complexion, he wanted her, the obsessive desire that had built up over the past years barely appeased by the one night of passion they had shared. By the time they'd both finished their meals, he was more than ready to make his escape from the temptation that she presented, and he left her clearing up the dinner while he went to ostensibly check on a potion that was simmering in his lab, but in reality he needed a break from her company to give his libido a chance to cool before he did something stupid.

When he emerged an hour later, he found her in the sitting room, curled up in an armchair with a book. Her only response to his entrance was an empty smile directed at him, before she returned her concentration to the book in her lap. He pulled a book from off the shelves and sat in his own chair to read, occasionally glancing up at his wife. A couple of hours passed in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages as they were turned. As the clock on the mantelpiece struck 11, Severus finally noticed how late it had become. He needed to be up early to tend to his potion, and after his restless night's sleep, he needed to get to bed.

Looking up at Hermione, Severus noted the stubborn set to her jaw, and he careful study of the page in front of her, although her eyes were red and bleary. Clearly she'd been waiting for him to go to bed first. With a sigh he snapped his book shut, and stiffly got to his feet. Feeling horribly awkward, he replaced the book on the shelf and headed towards the stairs, stopping for a moment at the door and turning his head to look at her. She never looked up. At the creak of the first step, however, a quiet voice called to him.

"Good night, Severus."

He froze, opening his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. Good? There's nothing good about it. He started to climb the stairs, hating the way each one creaked loudly. A quick visit to the bathroom later and he was shutting his bedroom door behind him. His dark furnishings reflected his mood. He could have been fucking her again this evening, maybe even had her several times already that day. He was surely the biggest idiot he knew, and that was saying something, considering the number of utterly incompetent students he'd had in his classroom over the years.

He heard her soft footsteps cross the landing a short while later, after he'd already crawled into bed, pausing slightly in front of his room before continuing down to the one she'd taken for hers. He strained his ears to hear any further sound but there was nothing, and he could only assume she'd put up a silencing charm, as he knew from experience that even little sounds carried far in the old house. It took him a long time to drift off that night, and when he finally did, he was plagued with restless sleep and fitful dreams.

As the first week of their marriage passed by, he began to wonder whether he was going to have to drag her to his bed to carry out the Ministry decree before the end of the second. The Ministry had insisted on the implementation of a charm that would alert them to any couple not meeting the requirements as part of the wedding ceremonies that fell under the new law. By the time Wednesday, a full week after their wedding, rolled around again, they still hadn't spoken about what must happen that evening. Severus had made sure to take some food with him down into his lab before Hermione arrived home from work, so he didn't need to go up at dinner time. He had no desire to sit opposite his wife in awkward silence as they both avoided the one thing that needed to be discussed. He was frustrated enough with the situation, having to spend so much time in her company, lusting after her, but without being able to have her. This night hadn't been able to come fast enough.

By 10.30 he couldn't pretend to himself that he could do anymore that evening, and so, steeling himself for the long awaited confrontation, he trudged up the stairs. He was surprised to find the kitchen and sitting room both dark and silent. Despite the cool April weather, it seemed as if Hermione had not bothered to light the fire this evening at all and it was markedly cooler than in the warmth of his lab. It seemed as if she'd already gone to bed. Shit… He began to climb the stairs with a heavy heart. Despite the circumstances, he'd been looking forward to slaking his lust for her, he would never be capable of forcing himself on her if she refused to abide by the law and accept him into her bed, even if it meant the two of them taking a trip to Azkaban. Hopefully she wouldn't refuse him if he knocked at her door, although the thought of fucking his wife is his small childhood bed sent him cold.

To his surprise, when he reached the top of the stairs, he found his own bedroom door slightly open, a weak beam of light crossing the dingy landing carpet in front of him. Hating the way his heart leapt – she'd come to him of her own accord once more – he peered through the gap. She was already in his bed, reclining against the pillows with a book in her lap. The nerve of her… to sit there as if she'd not eschewed his bed for the past week. Suddenly irritated, he flung the door open with a bang, hoping to make her jump, but she only looked up at him for a moment with a tight smile, before returning her eyes to her book.

As he stalked closer he could see that she wasn't as relaxed as she seemed. Her face was pale and he could see how tightly her fingers were clutching the book.

"What are you doing?" he snapped as he came to stand by the bed.

She looked back up with a feigned look of innocence. "I assumed we'd be more comfortable in here, rather than squeezing into my single bed. Unless…" She faltered when his scowl didn't disappear. "…you don't wish to… only it needs to be tonight, or the Min…"

Not wanting the reminder that the Ministry law was the only reason his wife was willing to grace his bed with her presence, his reply was harsher than he'd meant. "Don't be foolish, girl, of course tonight is acceptable. May I know when you plan to fulfil the second of our weekly copulatory requirements?"

"Oh… l I thought perhaps tomorrow evening…"

"That will suffice," he replied sharply, turning away to start unbuttoning his jacket, trying to hide the desire he knew would be shining in his eyes at the thought of fucking her. He was acutely aware of the silence behind him as he quickly undressed and pulled his dressing gown on. Just the thought of what was to happen was making hi hard, so he made sure to keep his back to her. He left the room with a muttered, "I won't be long," and disappeared off to the bathroom where he took a perfunctory shower to rid himself of the potion fumes that clung to him after a day's brewing. By the time he'd returned to the bedroom Hermione had put the book aside and dimmed the light.

He crossed the room quickly, pretending not to see the nervousness on her face, and quickly divested himself of his dressing gown and slipped under the covers. As silence reigned for a few moments Severus could only think back and compare this to the last time he' had her in his bed, full of heat and passion or him, not the cold fish that lay next to him now. For the umpteenth time, he cursed himself for not being able to lie to her about his feelings. He'd been a spy for as long as she'd been alive, for Merlin's sake, lying had been second nature to him for almost as long as he'd lived. So why had he been unable to do so to her this time?

Hermione shifted slightly beside him, bringing him back to the moment, and he rolled to face her. Ignoring the apprehensive look on her face, Severus began to tug the covers off her, realising with delight that at some point she'd rid herself of the nightdress she'd been wearing earlier. Immediately he could feel himself growing hard once more. He may not love her, but Merlin he desired her. He couldn't help but lower his mouth to one puckered bud, even as his fingers trailed across her stomach to gently cup her other breast. She was strangely tense beneath him, and at first her unnatural stillness was easy to ignore as his own need mounted, but he quickly found his pride demanded some sort of response from her. He began to lave and suck her nipple with fervour, gently using his hand to caress her and flick at her bud with his thumb.

The strangled gasp that tore from her throat made him smirk against her warm skin. He let his hand trail down her soft stomach and down between her legs, which he gently pushed apart for better access. Brushing his fingers across her opening he was pleased to find that despite her cold demeanour, she was wet already. However, when he lifted his face to look at hers he was dismayed to find her eyes full of unshed fears. Bugger… He didn't want to do this if she was really that unwilling. He pulled back a little.

"Hermione…" he started.

She clutched at him, tugging him back towards her. "Don't stop, Severus."

"I don't…"

"Please… Severus," she whispered. "Don't make me beg."

When he still held back, uncertain, she sighed gently, closing her eyes.

"Severus, I… I need you to… fuck me… now," she bit out quietly, pulling his head back down to her breast.

Pushing away his unease, Severus did as she asked. Deciding that it was pointless continuing to tease her with more foreplay he quickly shifted to lie between her legs, holding himself with one hand at her entrance, and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, her full lips parted slightly, and at the same moment he pushed into her tight heat he impulsively leant down to kiss them. Unknowingly, at the same moment she turned her head to the side, away from him, and awkwardly he buried his face in her neck instead as he began to rock his hips back and forth.

Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, holding him tight against her as he hips tilted to accommodate him fully. Severus groaned in pleasure as he began to thrust harder. She was still so tight, and the soft skin of her breasts felt like silk against his chest. She really was exquisite, her form slender and lithe, but not scrawny, with just enough curves to be womanly instead of childlike. Not like Lily of course, certainly not as stunningly beautiful, with her red hair and piercing green eyes, and her height gave her a bearing that Hermione would never have. Oh gods, Lily, how could I have been so stupid to push you away?

And now he'd also fucked up the best thing to happen to him since he destroyed his and Lily's friendship. It seemed like he was doomed to repeat his mistakes over and over. Well, he may have wrecked the chance to have Hermione his bed every night, but at least he would be guaranteed something at least. It was still a thousand times better than his alternatives. Besides, he could pretend, like he had with all the previous women, that it was Lily lying beneath him. Not that you have done so far with Hermione… No, he'd desired the girl long enough that even thoughts of Lily had been pushed aside for some time. Such a state couldn't allowed to continue though. Lily was, and always would be, his one true love.

Hermione had begun to undulate her pelvis in time with his, causing him to penetrate deeper, although she was still silent. Feeling his climax approaching, he began to snap his hips faster in an effort to push himself over the edge, neglecting his partner's pleasure in his own blissful haze. It wasn't long before he could feel his balls tighten, and with a shout of completion, he emptied his impotent seed deep inside her, before slumping down on her in exhaustion.

After a few moments catching his breath, he was in enough possession of his wits to lift his head, and immediately realised she'd put the light out. When did that happen? Wordless and wandless though… impressive! Not that he would ever tell her. Feeling his softening cock slip out of her slick pussy, he extricated himself from between her legs and collapsed to one side, turning onto his back. Considering how he had avoided cuddling with her before, he still felt a strange sense of loss when she did not roll with him and wrap her arms around him this time. Don't be such a fucking soft touch, you idiot!

In the darkness he could hear her shifting, and the movement of the mattress told him that she'd turned onto her side, facing away from him once more. He hated the way that single motion made him feel rejected. You rejected her, you idiot, when you told her you loved Lily. Perhaps he could draw her back somehow, if only to appease his own need. He'd been uncaring of her pleasure in the heat of the moment, after all, it wasn't as if he needed to keep her happy so she would return to his bed, but now that he was sated he suddenly felt a peculiar duty to make sure she felt the same.

"Did you… " He paused, unsure how to word it.

"Did I what, Severus?" was her quiet response after a few seconds.

"Did you enjoy yourself… did you cum, I mean." The moment the words were out of his mouth he cringed at the crassness of the question.

There was silence for a moment before he hear the faintest of sighs. "No… It doesn't matter."

He grimaced into the darkness, her words wounding his masculine pride. If that's how she wanted to be, then he wouldn't bother making the effort again. See how long she could go without the frustration being too much. It wasn't like it would make a difference to their relationship either way. He was more than willing to take what he wanted and leave her hanging if she wanted to be so blasé about it, although he wasn't too impressed that their sex life would probably become monotonous fairly quickly if she was just going to lie on her back and take it.

Remembering how she had snuck from his bed the week before, he wanted to see whether she would leave once more, so let his breathing deepen and slow after a few minutes. Severus judged it to be about fifteen minutes later that she carefully slipped out from under the covers and left the room silently without the aid of a light, pulling the door closed with a quiet click. After a few moments he rolled over with a sigh, pulling the pillow she'd been using to his chest. It smelt very faintly of her shampoo, and unconsciously he buried his nose in it as he pondered just what he was going to do, but despite his annoyance at the situation with Hermione, it wasn't long before he slipped deeply into a post-orgasmic sleep.

When Severus work up the next morning with the scent still in his nose it took him a few moments to realise that his wife hadn't returned at some point, and that the warm object that he was pressing his morning hard on against was not her pert and rather lovely backside. It wasn't long before he realised that not only was he was still clutching the pillow tightly, but that he'd dreamt of Hermione half the night. Frustrated and turned on by the vague memories of some rather erotic dreams he climbed out of bed, his bad mood set for the day.

He was fairly foul to Hermione every chance he got that day; at breakfast before she left for work, the moment she got back home, all through the dinner she'd cooked for him, although he wouldn't have been able to explain why if asked. As he crawled into bed besides an even quieter and paler Hermione that night, he did wonder for a moment if he'd been trying to see how hard he could push her before she refused to sleep with him.