Hermione flopped into her chair before their fire and huffed out a tight breath. Severus glanced up from his book, an eyebrow lifted and she ignored the patter of her heart. Oh, he was most definitely the one with the evil allure…

His mouth twitched upwards. "An interesting evening?"

She caught her fingers in her hair and fisted them at the roots. Her shoulders sagged. A moment later, a full tea service appeared on the side table between them and Severus was pouring a cup. Blessed man. And blessed elves. She wrapped her hands around the delicate bone china cup and inhaled. Perfect.

Hermione let the first sip flow through her. "I spent an hour in the Married Common Room."

"Ah."

"Yes, ah." She stared in the milky tea and drew more of its calming scent into her lungs. "The bonds aren't…atrocious. I mean, those caught by the law —well, the ones in Hogwarts—aren't an impossible match." Her eyes narrowed on him. "And if you say, 'like us,' I shall pinch you. Quite severely."

Severus huffed a soft laugh and held up his hand "I quake before you, my wife."

She gave him a snippy little smile. "As you should." Her smile faded. "But it wasn't their free choice. I pointed out the educational exemption, which had been passed on to them by Kingsley."

"I have a number of applications from them already." His mouth pursed. "I also believe that beyond these walls, the muggle-born witches' urge to find apprenticeships has rocketed."

"Good."

Hermione curled into her chair. "And then they have to petition and protest. I gave them a break down. I also urged them to chase down the investigation into the supposed rise in squib births. To work as a team."

She didn't say how there had been thinned lips and silences with the expectation that she should take up the lead as the most high-profile muggle-born witch caught under the law. That she above anyone should be fighting against it. Because of who she'd drawn in the unwanted lottery. And they'd slid her dark, suspicious looks at her hedging.

"They want you to spearhead it."

Yes, Severus could see the obvious.

"You mustn't feel guilt over having to protect this bond."

Her belly squeezed. Again, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't lie. Not in the safety of these chambers, nor to him. "It's not the bond. It's," she drew in a fortifying breath, "it's, well, you." He blinked and she hurried on, scared that he would grab hold of the wrong idea. "I like this. Us. Being your partner in this madness. Being…being your wife, Severus." Her face boiled and she fixed her gaze on her tea. "I know it's only been days and believe me, I don't for a minute think it's the cliche of confusing my feelings over the first man to bring me pleasure—"

A shadow fell over her and a warm hand, steady and strong, wrapped around her trembling fingers. It eased the cup free.

Severus drew her to her feet. "Look at me, Hermione."

His voice was a low thrum that eased over her straining nerves and helped her to meet his gaze. Warmth lit his eyes and fresh heat bloomed in her chest.

"We will have centuries together. And I find," he cupped her cheek, his callused thumb playing a slow line under her bottom lip. Her mouth parted, "I find the prospect of it is a pleasurable one."

Hermione flung herself at him, burying her face against his chest. Gauche, certainly, but with her arms tight around him, her fingers fisted in the thick weave of his waistcoat and with his heartbeat under her ear, she found she didn't care. Not for half a second. He was falling just as she was, and gods, that was a bloody relief.

"Take me to bed, Severus."

He huffed a laugh. "You want me only for my body."

She smirked up at him, her chin pressed to his chest. Firelight played over his pale features and caught in the dark beauty of his eyes. "Of course I do."

His smile sharpened, something wicked that chased a fresh pulse of want through her already straining flesh. "So eager…" His voice was a lick of sin and her breath caught. "But I will not take your innocence yet."

Hermione growled at him. What did he think they'd been doing all week? "I am hardly innocent anymore, Severus Snape!"

Something flickered in his gaze. "Give me this, Hermione. Time. Time to know you."

Guilt. Hermione closed her eyes and pulled in a calming breath before she railed at him. Waiting twisted something inside of her. A want. A need. To have this wizard, to weave their magics together in the most intimate of way was right in a way she couldn't explain. But be still held guilt that she was bound to him, when she was the one who contained him. Restricted him. Wrapped chains around his magic. Gods —and yes, she was cursing Dionysus right then— they were a complicated mess.

She stared up at him and huffed, lining her words with an amused grumble. "Yes. All right. As long as you need."

His lips brushed her forehead and her heart squeezed hard at the affection in the gesture.

"I will have you eventually though, Severus Snape. Every delicious inch."

His rich laughter warmed her. "You will." He drew back and threaded his fingers through hers. He tugged her forward. "And now as you said, it is time for bed, Madam Snape."

She followed him to his bedroom. Their bedroom, as she'd not once slept in the bed Crookshanks now claimed for himself. By the light of a magically lit fire, she watched her wizard loosen further the cravat at his throat. Something simple and domestic. Questions from the day bubbled to the surface. He wanted to know her? Then she had to have the favour returned.

"Did you take over the accelerated Defence against the Dark Arts lessons to protect other teachers?" Her fingers laced together, tight. "From, well, from me?"

Severus looked up from unbuttoning his shirt. His fire-lit skin gleamed and Hermione's mouth dried. She shut her eyes. She needed an answer, not her raging libido.

"There are witches out there that are a threat to you. For my own peace of mind, I need to ensure you are able to defend yourself." He paused and she heard the smile in his words. "And seeing your changing patronus was…educational."

She groaned. "A bloody great spider."

"It liked me."

And it had.

Severus' had murmured, "An interesting change, Madam Snape," before turning away from a sprawled and still unconscious Ron to stalk around the huge patronus. He stopped and eight, silver-edged eyes fixed on him. Reaching out to stroke a slender palp, the magic shivered.

Hermione felt his touch down to her toes and it caught her breath. He glanced at her —quick and wicked— as if knowing how he affected her. His dark eyes shone. "End your charm." He stepped back. "Misters Thomas and Finegan, please…escort Mr Weasley to the infirmary."

And the lesson had carried on…

"Has yours…" Hermione pressed her lips together. Merlin to ask him that. Something so personal, so tied to the witch who had fuelled his fight against Voldemort.

His mouth twitched upwards. Brief. Pained? Her nerves were too stretched to tell. "You did show me yours."

A flick of his wand and a silvered light filled the room, churning, swirling around them and Hermione held her breath. Something formed in its gleaming heart. For a moment, a doe burned against her retinas, the spark of a moment before it melted away. And grew. Muscles and horns, something massive and strong. Fierce. Ancient…

A silver-edged bull auroch dipped its head to her, the gleaming curve of its massive horns too much temptation for her fingers. The magic pulsed under the glide of her touch and Severus' indrawn breath snapped her gaze to him.

Silver gilded him. He was staring at the beast that filled the chamber, then to her. "The bull. A symbol of Dionysus." His voice was low, quiet. "I…"

"Severus." Her fingers curled away from his patronus and her nails dug into her palms. She welcomed the bite of pain. His second life had taken this from him too. She had—

"No."

With a shake of head, he pulled her into his arms.

"No. Not you." He sighed and drew the wild tangle of her hair back from her face. "Sweet witch." His kiss was a feather light brush of his lips against hers. "A new life necessitates some…change."

"But you shouldn't have to give up everything you are."

"She was delicate and beautiful, my doe. And a reminder of why I had to stay true to my path. No matter the pain, the guilt. A reminder of every wrong." His chest lifted and his dark gaze grew distant. "It is…right that she has…evolved." His focus was on her again and a hint of a smile edged away the shadow in his gaze. His voice was dark silk. "And truly, should I not also have a true reflection of my wife?"

Hermione blinked. And again. Had he just…? Was he…? She spluttered and her face grew hot. She was infamous for her temper, for charging in and mowing down all opposition—"Are you calling me bull-headed?"

He smirked and his patronus snorted out a heavy breath, tossing its head before it faded and the room fell to fire-lit shadow. Bloody thing had laughed at her too. Men! She tried to wriggle free, but Severus' strong arms held her and he fought a shark-bright grin. It was there in the tightness of his jaw and shine in his sharp and devilish eyes.

"Would I do such a thing, Hermione?"

She glared at him. "Yes, yes you would."

He snorted. "I concede. I would."

"Wicked man!"

"As you say."

His mouth dipped to hers and his voice was heavy with sin, melting her and parting her lips under the heat of his breath. His tongue-tip teased her upper lip, scorching, ached-for and her anger, her irritation turned, firing a new need through her. Her clothes itched against her flesh. Bare skin. She needed skin. His. Hers. All of it. Now.

Hermione snorted and shoved him back. To the bed. Tore at her clothes and narrowed her eyes on him as he bloody lay there, all cool and wicked and delicious…

He thought her bullish? Oh by Merlin, she'd show him!

And as she leapt, Severus dark laughter echoed around the chamber.