HG/SS Thorns

Hermione raised a hand to cover a yawn as the society president mounted the steps to the side of the stage. She'd skimped on sleep, trying to finish a report for Kingsley before she left for Greenland. She let her eyes skim the crowd as the elderly Potions Mistress kicked off the week-long convention. This afternoon was informal, but she needed to decide on her outfit for dinner: favourite granddaughter or successful single. Get it wrong, and she'd be fending off advances from oversexed centenarians or playing wallflower when she might actually meet someone who valued intelligence over flying ability.

II.

She'd just decided on wizarding robes, when the speaker caught her full attention.

"I know that many of you are here primarily to attend the keynote seminar. The elusive A.S.P. will make his first ever public appearance here. His articles on medicinal Potions over the last decade have put him at the forefront of our field, but he has an even more spectacular revelation for us on Friday. Some of you may once have known him by another name, but it is my proud pleasure to introduce Anastius Severus Prince."

'Or maybe the black velvet gown, after all,' she thought.

III.

He had hoped to stay in the background and observe unnoticed, at least for this afternoon, but it seemed it was not to be. As the crowd parted, people turning to see where Serafina pointed, Anastius fixed a grudging smile on his face and raised his glass. Then, as they turned back, he caught a glimpse of her in the throng. It was simply a flash of wild brown hair between tweed-draped shoulders, but there was no mistaking that unruly cloud. Then, as everyone else returned their attention to Serafina, her eyes met his. Much to his surprise, she smiled.

IV.

As people moved toward the buffet, he wove through the gathering until he stood behind her in the queue. Leaning down, he spoke softly in her ear, or as close as he could guess to its position. "I wouldn't be so pleased with yourself. There is a very good reason why you won't go rushing off to tell your little friends where I am."

She gave a satisfying start of surprise and turned on her heel, her eyes blazing. "Are you trying to intimidate me?" she demanded.

"I see I need to remind you about a life debt," Severus purred.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief for a fraction of a second before she grabbed his hand and towed him toward the room's balcony. Only when she had closed the door behind them both did she begin. "I repaid that debt. I spoke for you before the Wizengamot."

"I hardly think that equates with diving into a freezing pool and hauling out your unconscious body," he sneered.

"I wouldn't have been in that pool if you hadn't put the sword in there in the first place. And you made me go back in for it."

He curled his lip scornfully.

VI.

"Very well, even though I didn't ask you to testify on my behalf, and even though it was so successful that I was condemned to life-long exile, we will skip that one."

Hermione rose unconsciously onto her tiptoes leaning in toward him. "If you hadn't taken your memories back and Obliviated us all, I might have done a little better."

"If you hadn't left me dying in that cesspit, I might have trusted you enough to skip the Obliviate."

"I came back," Hermione sighed, dropping back to her heels as her heart sank.

"You never even checked for a pulse."

VII.

She actually looked as if she regretted her neglect. All semblance of defiance was instantly erased from her demeanour, her shoulders rounded and her windblown hair hiding her face. She quivered, and Severus swept off his outer robes and swirled them around her shoulders.

Her head jerked up in surprise, and he pretended not to notice the unnatural brightness of her eyes.

He slid a hand under her chin and tilted her head back. "Is it too much to ask that you let me keep the life I've built for myself?" he whispered.

"Asking was all you had to do."

VIII.

Severus was tempted to justify himself by pointing out that she had never kept anything from her accomplices before, but he curbed his tongue. He let his hand drop from the softness of her skin, presenting her with a clean monogrammed handkerchief before he turned as if to appreciate the vista.

He waited until she stepped into his peripheral view to face her again. "Your friends have made it plain they disapproved of my sentence. I feared you might feel compelled to contact them immediately."

"I learned to think for myself after I left Hogwarts."

"I had noticed," he admitted.

IX.

"You... noticed?" Hermione asked, hating how gauche the words sounded.

He looked down at her, his new shorter hair fluttering in the wind. "Naturally."

Hermione almost felt as if she were falling into the dark wells of his soul, but you couldn't fall upward.

"Triple Masters," he said softly. "Published in every Potions, Charms and Transfiguration periodical of note. Speaking here. Even a hermit such as I couldn't fail to notice."

"An article here and there, nothing much," Hermione replied. "Small stuff. Nothing as important as your work on Cruciatus aftereffects."

"Yet," he added. "Nothing as important as that, yet."

Hermione could hear the blood pounding in her veins. If he hadn't already mentioned that night by the pool, she would have been trying to think of a question only the real Severus Snape could answer.

"Are you feeling alright, Miss Granger?" he enquired almost solicitously. "Perhaps we should go back inside?"

Hermione nodded.

Even though she had been far closer, he reached the door first, holding it open.

Once inside, she shrugged out of his robes, missing his next question. "Sorry, sir, I didn't hear."

"I asked if you would allow me to escort you to dinner this evening."

XI.

Severus easily read the look of shocked disbelief, his tone turning brusque. "It's an easy multiple choice, Miss Granger. A simple no is sufficient. No excuses are needed. If you prefer, I can even ask Serafina to seat us at separate tables."

She continued to stare back at him as if he had grown two heads.

He plucked his robes from her frozen hands, twisting on the ball of his foot. He felt the lightest tug on his elbow. Even though he knew it was his imagination, he turned back.

"Yes."

He lifted his eyes to hers.

"I'd be honoured."

XII.

Severus searched her face for signs of duplicity, but found none. "I'll call for you at twenty past seven." He nodded toward the old woman who had introduced him earlier. "It appears I'm wanted."

"I haven't told you my room number," Hermione answered, with a nervous smile.

"I'll find it." He didn't mention that he had been here for three days already, helping his former mistress with the minutiae of organising the conference including room allocation for the speakers.

"But—"

He reached out and rested a fingertip on her lips. "Seven twenty, Hermione." He bowed and took his leave.

XIII.

Hermione watched, confused, as her former teacher crossed the room and was enveloped in an enthusiastic hug and kissed on the cheek. He didn't even protest when the woman kept an arm around his waist as she performed introductions.

Hermione decided to forego the buffet in favour of the bar, passing behind Serafina and friends.

"...this delicious creature instead of a nice Italian boy," one woman said.

"She lost a bet," he said.

Even from behind, Hermione could tell he was smirking.

"And I gained a mistress."

"And within a month I was sharing you with my husband," Serafina grumbled.

XIV.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and her mouth puckered as though she'd been forced to eat one of Dumbledore's sherbet lemons. She hauled herself up onto a bar stool, glaring at the bartender.

"Do you keep Muggle whisky?" she asked.

"Of course. We—"

"Single malt?"

"We've got Glenlivet, Glenmorangie, Talisker, Highland Park and Laphraoig."

"Glenmorangie, Highland Park and Laphraoig. Doubles. Line them up." Hermione imagined Minerva McGonagall would be turning in her proverbial grave if she knew what Hermione was about to do. And that was just the whisky part.

One after another, she picked up each glass and drained it.

XV.

Severus found that even making polite small talk with Serafina's contemporaries wasn't sufficient to dent his good mood. His plans were bearing fruit much earlier than he had anticipated, not that he had plans. He was simply open to opportunities. If he had chosen to engineer those opportunities, that was irrelevant.

"Madam Galletti," Hermione cut in using a colder tone than that to which he was accustomed. "You don't mind if I borrow him, do you? I believe you're used to sharing."

Serafina gave a sly smile. "Do with him as you will, Miss Granger, provided he's back before six."

XVI.

Severus grabbed her by the upper arm, steering her into a corner. "If spirits deprive you of your manners, you should stay away from them. You reek of whisky. Why in Merlin's name would you offer such disrespect to a genius like Serafina, someone who can make or break your reputation in the Potions community? Never mind that it reflects poorly on me, too."

"You have a nerve!" the lioness growled, pushing well inside his personal space. "Why did you ask me out? Does it make you feel powerful to play us off against each other?"

"You're jealous?" Severus murmured.

XVII.

"Yes," Hermione replied softly, then caught herself. "No! I'm not jealous. I'm angry. I'm offended. I don't like being used. Your problems with your lady friend shouldn't involve me."

"Serafina is a lady, and she is my friend, but she is not, nor has she ever been, my lady friend."

"Don't lie! I heard you call her your mistress and she— she said—"

"Serafina was my mistress in the same way that her husband was my master, just as Horace Slughorn was yours. I asked you out for the same reasons any man asks an attractive woman."

"Prove it."

XVIII.

That damned eyebrow rose three eights of an inch, making Hermione wonder how long he had practised in front of a mirror before he mastered the trick.

"Prove it?" he drawled.

"Prove it," Hermione repeated.

"And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that?" he asked, his voice edged with all too obvious amusement.

"Kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it." Hermione's lips curved into a predatory smile as his smirk faded. "If, as you say, there's nothing between you and Serafina, no harm done."

His dark eyes swept the room, like a cornered rat's seeking a bolthole.

XIX.

Severus cursed the karma that made him attracted to such an indecorous female.

"It's an easy multiple choice— And just what am I meant to call you? Nastiest? Severus? Professor? Or maybe you prefer just Prince?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Most people still call me Severus, but, given your circle of acquaintances, that might be an inconvenient habit to acquire," Severus conceded, relieved at the change of subject. "Anastius will do."

"Yes, well, Anastius," the damned woman said. "As you said earlier, simple choice, yes or no. Pass... or fail."

"It would not be appropriate in current company," Severus argued.

XX.

"That's the point, Anastius," the Jezebel asserted. "If, this once, you'll overcome your natural reserve, then it proves this means something to you. It's not just another of your cruel jokes."

"Do you think I ask women to dinner because I believe I'll hate their company?" Severus hissed, trying not to attract the attention of the whole room.

"To kiss or not to kiss. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to be a miserable git who spends his nights alone..."

"Miss Granger—"

"Hermione!"

"Hermione, I think you're... a little tipsy."

"I'm a lot tipsy. Make your mind up!"

XXI.

Hermione decided it was difficult to intimidate someone when they insisted on swaying.

"How about we get you some fresh air and some strong black coffee?" Anastius asked in that silky, melt-your-insides voice. Evil git. "Then, we'll see."

And now her stomach was burning, and her throat. And he spun her around and wrapped his arm around her waist from behind, and they were twisting and now her stomach was constricting and she couldn't keep the whisky down and they were outside and it was beautiful and she was sick, really really sick.

And he was holding back her hair.

XXII.

Severus Snape - or Anastius Severus Prince - was holding back her hair. Holding back her hair and making soothing noises.

She wanted to die.

Not in a my-stomach-feels-so-bad, it's-never-going-to-stop, let-me-end-the-misery way want to die. Actually, she hadn't had much in her stomach. She hated to eat before she Portkeyed, so all there had been was the whisky. Now that was evacuated, physically, she felt much better.

No, she wanted to die in the original let-the-ground-open-up-and-swallow-me sort of way.

She was an idiot, and Anastius Severus Prince was humouring her.

"All gone?" His voice so gentle she wanted to cry.

XXIII.

She was jealous. Severus felt as if she'd given him the most precious gift.

He was holding her. She felt so wonderful in his arms — or arm, singular. She fitted, even if this wasn't how he had envisioned it. And she had hinted, if things went well, he might not sleep alone.

Her hair felt so much softer than he had imagined. It looked so full, but when he clasped it at the nape of her neck it compressed until he could easily have held it between thumb and forefinger.

"All gone?" he asked her, almost disappointed when she nodded.

XXIV.

Reluctantly, he freed her hair. Instead of releasing her, he supported her with his less dominant arm. His wand free, he conjured a tissue so she could wipe her lips. Then, he Vanished the snow where she'd been sick.

He waited until she stirred before he loosened his hold, stepping away. He produced a glass, filling it with water.

Her head bowed, she rinsed her mouth and then consigned the container to the nothingness from which it had come.

"I have mouthwash and a spare toothbrush in my room. We could have room service send up that coffee," Severus offered.

XXV.

"Why?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Shouldn't you be planning your escape?"

His fingertips came to rest below her chin, tilting her head back until she practically had to meet his gaze. "I admit the kiss you requested may be contingent on the mouthwash, but I suspect your drinking today was atypical."

"Anastius..."

"I swear I will reconsider, if on closer acquaintance I discover you're a dypsomaniac harpy."

"You're sure?" Hermione blurted out.

"I've wanted to meet you again for some time," he admitted.

Hermione's heart began to race.

"I wanted to get to know you as an equal. I still do."

XXVI.

Hermione saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes, and it left her feeling confused after his evasiveness in the hotel.

"If you can manage to walk half a mile, I think the fresh air might be beneficial," Anastius said.

"If the alternative is Apparating, I'll walk. Believe me," Hermione answered fervently. She missed his wand movements, but she couldn't mistake the warmth that spread through her, magic augmenting her indoor clothing.

He gestured to her to begin moving and matched his stride to hers. When she stumbled, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and she found the courage to ask.

XXVII.

As expected, she had responded to his supportive gesture by twining her arm around his waist. He didn't bother to hide the faint upward curve of his lips, and when he felt her gaze on his face instead of the route ahead, he slowed their pace and looked down.

"Has my profile changed so radically you're compelled to relearn its lines?" he asked in a teasing tone. "Just ask, Hermione. I won't attack."

"I know what I did was stupid," she began before briefly capturing her lower lip between her teeth. "But would you really have let me walk out?"

XXVIII.

Severus expelled his breath in a silent snort. "Unlike you, my dear, I am aware of just how poorly your planned show of passion would have been received. I also know that escorting you for the remainder of the week will fix us in everyone's minds as a couple with equal effectiveness. In addition, I know I would certainly have had a discernable physical reaction to anything more than a chaste embrace.

"I would have reasoned with you right up to the point where you began to turn." He allowed a self-deprecating smile. "Then, I would have kissed you senseless."

XXIX.

Hermione almost laughed, the burbling in her throat settling into a smile she wouldn't have believed five short minutes earlier. "I see," she said lightheartedly. "And do you intend to act as my escort for the rest of the week?"

"That would depend to a large extent upon whether our company proves to be mutually agreeable, wouldn't you say?" Anastius answered, his eyes hinting at just how mutually agreeable they might be. "In theory, I have no objections, though I do have some minor duties in addition to my presentation."

"Like whatever you have planned for six o'clock?" she teased.

XXX.

"Precisely as I have planned for six o'clock," Anastius conceded with a bow of his head.

Hermione felt a gentle pressure at her back and resumed walking.

"If it will allay your suspicions, I could invite you to accompany me?" he suggested. "Or will you be attending to your toilette?"

"Do you think you merit over an hour of primping?" Hermione asked archly.

"I believe that is your decision to make," he averred. "I thought after your indisposition you might appreciate a rest and a long bath."

"My room doesn't have a bath," Hermione countered.

"That's hardly an insurmountable problem."

XXXI.

She laughed out loud, the sound high and light.

He smirked and lifted an eyebrow.

"I never imagined you to be such an incorrigible flirt, Anastius." She spoke his name as if her tongue caressed each syllable.

"I am sure you will discover that I have many facets you never suspected, Hermione." He tightened his hold around her shoulders as they reached the hard-packed snow around the hotel.

"Unfortunately, if I were seen leaving your room in my bathrobe, your circumspection earlier would go to waste."

"Then by all means use the connecting door," Severus suggested with a sly smile.

XXXII.

Hermione laughed again. "How long have you been planning this?"

"I may have brought your Potions articles to Serafina's attention," Severus admitted, deciding truth would avail him better than prevarication. "Some made it to the Italian journals, but not all."

"And?" Hermione persisted.

"I may have suggested you would make an ideal introductory speaker."

"Just suggested?" Hermione asked in a slightly suspicious tone.

"I suggested that I might be prepared to speak, if she could guarantee you would be here." He inclined his head confidentially toward her. "She would never have agreed if she didn't believe you qualified, rest assured."

XXXIII.

Hermione felt her brows knot, her mouth form into a thin line and her cheeks puff out. "You are still an exasperating man."

If anything, Anastius's smirk grew larger.

"I can't believe you used the Society like some sort of dating agency," she protested.

He didn't even flinch. "I'm sure you can," he answered smoothly. "At least I didn't try to turn it into a public petting display."

"See!" Hermione exclaimed, resisting the temptation to stamp her foot. "Exasperating."

Anastius leaned in.

Hermione's body thrummed in anticipation of shared secrets.

He brushed his lips to her temple. "But never boring."

XXXIV.

Her skin tingled as if she'd been caught by a first year's Stunner.

"I know you're annoyed—"

"I don't like being manipulated," Hermione agreed. "I had enough of that with Dumbledore."

"And I can easily understand that, but I know you well enough to know you'll shine tomorrow. Yes, my motives were selfish. I knew you wouldn't miss work just to attend the conference, and as I cannot set foot on native soil, my opportunities to arrange a meeting were limited. I had no idea how a letter might be received..." He shrugged.

Hermione felt her resentment fading away.

XXXV.

Severus let his arm fall from around Hermione's shoulders to open the hotel's outer door and hold it open for her, but he took her hand as soon as he had cancelled the Warming Charms on them both. He paused as they crossed the foyer's white marble to greet the desk clerk by name, asking him to have a large pot of strong black coffee and his usual sent up to his room.

As they waited by the lift, Severus felt Hermione gradually stiffen. "Maybe I should go back to my own room?" she suggested as the gilt cage arrived.

XXXVI.

Severus squeezed her hand in what he hoped would be taken as a reassuring gesture, but said nothing until they were alone in the corridor where their rooms were situated.

"Have I offended you somehow?" Severus asked, studying her face for a reaction as much as waiting to hear the words of her reply.

"No— I don't know. You confuse me, and you've had all this time to think and plan and know what you want, but I had no idea you were still alive until an hour ago. I don't know what you expect from me."

"Nothing," Severus replied.

XXXVII.

For what seemed like the hundredth time Hermione gazed into his enigmatic eyes, black pupils on black, striving to discover their secrets.

"Nothing," Anastius said again even more softly, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "My plans extended only to meeting you again. I admit I wished to be prepared if you exhibited the bravado and spontaneity for which your former house is known, but that is not a reflection of my expectations, or even necessarily of my hopes."

"You're claiming you weren't trying to get me into your room and your bath in order to seduce me?" Hermione asked.

XXXVIII.

"My sweet Hermione," he purred. "Seduction can take many forms. Only the crudest of them ends with sexual congress."

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the sensual lassitude he evoked seemingly without effort, only to upset her balance.

Firm hands anchored her shoulders. "Steady." His lips creased into a frown. "Hermione, I don't want to leave you unattended in your current condition. At least come in for coffee." He nodded to a waiter emerging from the direction of the service elevator. "You'll come to no harm."

Hermione wondered if her intoxication had more to do with whisky or Anastius.

XXXIX.

She tilted her head slightly and looked up at him with the exaggerated concentration of the inebriated. "That's the problem. I think you could hurt me a great deal and not even notice."

Severus felt the words penetrate his chest like a knife of ice. He lifted his hands from Hermione's shoulders, stepping back as soon as he was sure she was steady on her feet.

Numbly, he opened the door for the waiter, and gestured to the coffee table in the centre of the suite's sitting room, passing the young man a handful of random coins as he left.

XL.

Waiting until they were alone again, he backed up until he reached the open doorway. He nodded his farewell to her, knowing that he should see her safely into her room. He should, but he wouldn't. "As you wish, Miss Granger." It took effort to prevent the words sounding bitter and clipped, but he did it.

He pushed the door closed behind him, neither noticing nor caring when it stopped with two inches between its outer edge and the jamb.

He sank into the soft leather sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair.

XLI.

Hermione stared at the space previously occupied by the most exasperating wizard in the world. 'So much for the caring and concern!' she thought, briefly considering the idea of kicking the skirting board, but rejecting it on the grounds that falling over in a hotel corridor smelling of whisky and vomit was not how she wanted to debut at her first conference.

'He always was temperamental,' she reminded herself, 'but even for him, that was one heck of a flip. I don't want to leave you unattended to Miss Granger in ten seconds flat. All because I said I—'

XLII.

She had to steady herself with a hand on either side of the doorframe for a second before she threw his room door open, but she managed to stalk toward him in a mostly straight line.

"You, Severus Snape, are a damned idiot!" she began. "I thought you were brought up to speak English, not Insecure Male. You think I just called you a total git, don't you?"

"You said you believed me capable of cruelty so inherent I wouldn't even notice," Severus retaliated, rising to his feet. "I'm not sure total... git really covers it." He loomed over her.

XLIII.

"No, I didn't. You inferred that. I implied— Well, something completely different."

Despite himself, Severus felt hope begin to rise. "How else was I supposed to interpret it?" he asked.

"Do I have to spell it out?" she whined cutely. "I thought Slytherins were subtle."

"Indulge me," he whispered. "Please."

"Sev— Anastius, you are brave. You are as smart as or smarter than I am. When you want them to, everything from your voice to the way you move screams 'sex on legs'. If you even act like you care, I'm going to fall like a ton of bricks. Clear?"

XLIV.

"Hermione." It came out as a growl. "You see that door?" He gestured at the far corner of the sitting room and placed a hand at her back to guide her.

"You're sending me back to my room?" she asked in an incredulous tone.

"Mouthwash. Unless you want to remember our first kiss tasting of regurgitated Scotch."

"Oh! Toothbrush?" she asked.

He reached the bathroom cabinet while she was staring at the sunken bath, producing the complimentary brush that had been there when he arrived. "You will learn, sweet Hermione, that I try never to make promises I can't keep."

XLV.

His toothpaste fizzed in her mouth, bicarbonate of soda rather than the harsher taste of mint, but it was as nothing to the way her skin tingled as he swept her hair back to kiss her under her ear.

"May I?" he whispered against her neck.

His eyes met hers in the mirror over the basin, and she followed the downward flick of his gaze to see his hands poised at the clasp of her outer robes. She hesitated, feeling that she teetered on the brink of a life-changing decision, but in the end all she could do was nod.

XLVI.

The clasp came free.

As she continued to brush, his hands seemed to ghost over the curves of her body, never lingering, never seeking her most intimate places, but leaving meandering trails of heat wherever he touched.

When she had rinsed, he slid the robes from her shoulders, placing them on a hanger on a hook on the bathroom door, the door leading to her room. This done, he stood behind her again, close enough for her to feel his body's reaction to hers, to know the truth of his earlier words, to know the power she held over him.

XLVII.

He forced his hands to remain quiescent at his sides as she swished and gargled. They had experienced enough misstarts without making her choke. His reactions were as sharp as ever, though, and his fingers caught hers as she reached up. "Allow me," he requested, holding back her hair as she spat out his clove-scented mouthwash.

He could feel her trembling as she straightened and sent up a silent wish that it was caused by anticipation. He never wanted this woman to look at him with fear in her eyes. "Just a kiss," he whispered into her hair. "For now."

XLVIII.

It was she, who turned. She, whose hands slid under his robes and pushed them to the floor. She, who stood on tiptoe to bring her parted lips to his.

It was his tongue, which slid between her newly cleaned teeth to find hers, gently teasing tip to tip in a slightly chemical tasting dance. It was his hand that slipped into the softness of her curls to control the angle of their kiss and deepen it. It was he, who used the delicious curve of her behind to anchor her lower body tightly to his through cashmere, wool and silk.

XLIX.

Hermione pressed closer still, instinct trying to meld her body with his, not even realising until she felt long, slender fingers on her calf, guiding it downward, that she had wrapped her leg around his hip. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of where that row of buttons had been rubbing.

Her lips tried to follow his as he drew back. Though he didn't allow it, he peppered her face with kisses as she gradually regained her senses.

"Fuck," she whispered, peripherally aware of his eyes widening in shocked amusement.

"Ask again when you're sober," he purred, "and we undoubtedly will."

"You better get me to that pot of coffee then," Hermione replied.

Anastius chuckled as he swept her into his arms and carried her back to the sitting room sofa.

It seemed an impossible sound. "Do you always rush headlong at everything?" he enquired.

Hermione took advantage of her position to brush her lips against his jaw. "Only the things worth having," she answered with a smile.

"And, in your opinion, what we might have would qualify?" He sat down with her sitting across his lap.

Hermione's smile turned serious. "Ask me on Friday." It was too soon to say.

LI.

It wasn't no. The way things had gone so far, maybe that was the best he could hope for. She was looking up at him with those huge melancholy eyes, and he had to slide her from his lap onto the sofa next to him or he would have kissed her again, and somehow he didn't think he could kiss away her doubts.

He leaned forward and filled her a mug from the cafetière of black coffee, and then picked up his own large chocolate sprinkled cappuccino.

Despite adding sugar to hers, she grimaced at the taste. "Swap?" she suggested.

LII.

Severus slid his mug toward her. "It's decaff, so it won't help sober you up, but if you drink some of the black coffee, you can have it to cover the taste. I'll have to shower and get changed soon, anyway." He gave a pointed glance at his dark clothes, now liberally adorned with strands of lilac cashmere.

"Oh—"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry," he half-teased.

She forced down a gulp of the black coffee, grimacing. "Not if you aren't."

"Not yet," he answered, wondering how he would feel if their parting at the week's end was permanent.

LIII.

Hermione sighed. She reached around to take his chin and guide his gaze to hers. "I don't do flings, alright?" She rolled her eyes as she watched Anastius's brows knit together. Even allowing that to show was an expression of trust, she supposed, coming from him. She leaned in to kiss the tension away. "If I end this, it will be because I don't believe it's working. If I feel that way, then you're probably going to feel the same. I'm not going to deliberately hurt you. Stop second guessing what's going to happen and give it a chance, okay?"

LIV.

This time his lips on hers were softer, less possessive, more giving. Hermione closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations. Flashes of memory flared in her mind, fuelling the warmth in her blood. Moments from their shared past no longer seen from a child's perspective but with a woman's lust; times when he would hold a whole class in silence as they strained to the soft sound of his voice; watching him sweep through Hogwarts' corridors as if he were a king and the school his palace; the effortlessness he brought to his magic, even foolish wand waving.

LV.

"Hermione," he whispered, his voice slightly roughened. "I owe you an explanation."

She snorted, her eyes alive with amusement. "Several. Where do you want to start?"

"You must wonder why I took your memories," Severus began.

Her smile fading, she gently shook her head. "No, Anastius, I wonder what they were, but I worked out why you took them long ago. You loved Harry's mother. That was why you changed sides, and when you were fatally wounded, you let him see that love so that he knew he could trust you. Then he told the world. He betrayed your secret."

LVI.

"You worked it out!" Severus couldn't keep the amazement out of his voice. "Then why are Potter and Weasley still trying to find me and have me extradited?"

Hermione shook her head slightly. "I worked it out logically based on others' reports of the final battle. Harry isn't logical when it comes to you. You hated him before he set foot in Hogwarts, and he learned to reciprocate. Your Occlumency lessons left his mind wide open to Voldemort. He blames you for Sirius's death—"

"Because it's so much easier than accepting his own responsibility."

"Yes," she agreed. "It is."

LVII.

"Anastius," Hermione began, willing him to understand. "Even before Dumbledore died, Harry had a problem accepting you were acting in good faith during those lessons. Then you've gone into his mind again and taken memories of he knows not what. Even if he did accept that the only memories you took were those of his mother, and I'm not convinced that maybe he doesn't deep down, he'd hate you just for that. It's as if you orphaned him all over again. The trouble is, for all he knows, he went through the confrontation with Voldemort under the Imperius."

"If only!"

LVIII.

"You don't mean that," Hermione answered, attempting a soothing tone. "You wouldn't have sent him to die with no choice in the matter."

"No," Anastius agreed, "but I would have silenced him. Do you honestly think Rita Skeeter would have pulled my life apart if Potter had kept his mouth shut?"

"Harry thought you were dead. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you."

Anastius sighed, rising to his feet. "I'm sorry. You're not to blame. I really must get ready for dinner. Stay... please. The connecting door is not locked by my wand." He brushed his lips to hers.

LIX.

"I'll just take my toothbrush through to the en suite, and then the bathroom is all yours," Severus offered.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "You really were just offering me the use of your bath."

"I was never going to have time, now, for anything else."

"And later?"

"There's a bolt on the door. I'm not going to think any less of you if you use it."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, but now I only have ten minutes to shower and change."

"You said I could come."

LX.

'Oh, hell, yes, she could definitely come!' Severus let his eyelids drop while he resisted the images inspired by Hermione's inadvertent double entendre. "Finish your coffee before I come back out, and you have a deal."

The infernal woman smirked back at him.

Severus took a deep breath, cradled the back of Hermione's head and bestowed a final gentle kiss. "Eight minutes, you shameless temptress," he warned her, then turned on his heel.

He pushed the bedroom door to but not completely closed, stripping down and draping his clothes over the bed before he went for a cold, cold shower.

LXI.

Hermione cradled her mug in both her hands as she stared at the not quite closed door. She couldn't see anything, but the invitation was unmistakable. He called her a temptress. He was the proverbial snake in the Garden of Eden. Never pushing, no, he was far too subtle for that. He simply laid out a trail of metaphorical breadcrumbs and then waited for her to come along and lick them, and him, up.

She gulped down another couple of huge mouthfuls, almost choking. The time before he emerged seemed ridiculously short, much like her breath when the door opened.

LXII.

"Suddenly, I feel underdressed," Hermione quipped, taking time to peruse her escort. Unsurprisingly, he was dressed in black and white, but his frock coat was missing from the ensemble. Under black silk outer robes he wore a starched white high-collared shirt with a white bow tie and a low-cut white waistcoat. His black dress trousers had a thin satin stripe down the outside of each leg, and he wore elegant, dragon hide ankle boots.

"I had to make an effort," Anastius remarked, his apparent modesty belied by the mischievous gleam in his eyes. "My date regularly makes the fashion pages."

LXIII.

Hermione gave a sharp snort. "Yes, Skeeter does love to pull apart whatever I wear to any of the Ministry functions."

"Precisely," Severus answered. "And since Rita Skeeter is the antithesis of good taste, every witch in her right mind uses you as her role model."

Hermione gave a low chuckle. "You are a shameless charmer." She rose to her feet. "I would kiss you, but I don't want to make you all fluffy again."

Severus closed the gap between them, resting one hand on her hip and using the other to support her head. "That's what Tergeo is for."

LXIV.

He lowered his head, and Hermione rose on tiptoe to meet him. His nose touched lightly enough against hers to make his skin tingle. He didn't so much as breathe until their lips met. She was everything soft and feminine. Her hair felt as caressable as the cashmere covering her hip. Her breasts moulded themselves perfectly against the sharper planes of his chest. Her lips were rose petals that he feared to bruise, but her arms wrapped firmly around his neck, drawing him in.

He let her. He allowed her to deepen the kiss, and strengthen her hold on him.

LXV.

Hermione checked Anastius for stray fibres one last time as the lift descended, and, finding none, had problems resisting the urge to add more.

"Done?" he asked.

"Unfortunately," Hermione admitted with the slightest of pouts. "Why does she need you, anyway?"

Anastius's lips twitched briefly and his eyebrow lifted. "Possessive little wench, aren't you?"

"Would you have me any other way?" Hermione asked. "I don't see you as the sharing type."

Anastius turned to face her, using his knuckle under her chin to tip her head back until his eyes were all that she could see. "I'm not. Remember that."

LXVI.

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that a threat?"

Anastius's eyes slitted in return and then he looked down. "It's a statement of fact. My temper can be volatile when sorely provoked. I wish it were not the case, but I would advise you not to test my self-control. If there is ever anoth—"

With a ping, the lift shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open.

Hermione clasped Anastius's hand and drew him out of the lift, leading him to a quiet spot. She ran her fingers through the neatly shorn hair above his ear. "There won't be."

LXVII.

"There you are!" Serafina exclaimed by way of greeting. The older woman's eyes sparkled with mirth as her gaze went to the clock behind the bar. "I don't think I've ever known you to be late before." She nodded to Hermione. "Normally, he arrives precisely three minutes early."

Severus refused to rise to the bait. "Nonsense, 'Fina. The hotel's clocks are obviously wrong. I make it exactly six."

"You should get someone to look at that pocket watch, Severus, because it's lost quarter of an hour since yesterday. Now, pretend you're a gentleman and introduce me properly to your friend."

LXVIII.

Severus inclined his head toward his former mistress. "Signora Serafina Galletti, may I introduce Miss Hermione Jean Granger."

"Good evening, Miss Granger. It's my pleasure to meet the lady who has had dear Severus so..."

"Think carefully before you complete that sentence," Severus drawled, but his eyes betrayed amusement.

"So enchantingly nervous?" Fina suggested, smiling widely as she shot Hermione a sidelong look.

Hermione returned the smile, instinctively certain that not only would Serafina accept her apology, but that she could be a useful ally.

"I am not nervous."

"But he is enchanting," Hermione agreed, "when he chooses to be."

LXIX.

Anastius gave a melodramatic sigh. "If you two are planning to destroy my hard-won reputation, I am going to at least pretend I'm not listening. I'll get the keys."

As he strode toward the reception desk, Hermione reluctantly turned her attention from his billowing robes to Serafina. "I wanted to apologise for earlier. I was unconscionably rude. It was inexcusable."

Serafina's warm smile never wavered, but her eyes slowly assessed Hermione from head to toe with a serious regard. "Perhaps you, too, were nervous," the older woman suggested. "Perhaps you are like your Ministry, and you do not trust Severus?"

LXX.

Hermione didn't dismiss the question out of hand. "Perhaps. Much of our shared history was an illusion. That makes it difficult to have blind faith."

Serafina gave a slow nod. "But you would not have been so upset with our dear boy if you did not wish to try."

Hermione snorted in silent amusement. "No, I don't suppose I would have."

"Good!" Serafina announced. "Your work interests me. I wish to like you, but Severus is like family..." She gave an expressive shrug, grinning cheekily as Anastius approached. "More like an irritating stepbrother than a beloved son, but family nonetheless."

LXXI.

Severus cleared his throat and rattled the keyring in his hand. "I believe we have rooms to inspect?"

Hermione frowned. "Rooms? To inspect? That's why I'm missing my bath?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And I thought you didn't trust me with my former mistress."

"You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Not soon," he admitted.

"The hotel hosted several weddings over the weekend," Serafina interjected. "The rooms have now been rearranged for the presentations."

"It's our only chance to decide if we want anything changed," Anastius agreed. "Or for you to get a feel for the room."

LXXII.

Hermione threw herself at Severus. "You arranged for me to practice?"

His bemused eyes met Serafina's over the top of the tousled head that seemed to be burrowing into his chest. Then he held Hermione close, cashmere and all.

"Call it a happy coincidence. You can even set the height of the podium, since you'll be the first to speak tomorrow."

"That still doesn't explain why you had to get changed so early," Hermione observed. "Serafina hasn't."

"Serafina doesn't have to greet the Australians and Siberians and convince them to attend a formal dinner when they've only just got up."

LXXIII.

Anastius eased open the door to the smallest of the three rooms the society had booked for lectures.

He smirked at the silhouette of Hermione's wild hair on the projector screen as she leaned over the top of the hotel's Magic Lantern.

"Try not to set yourself on fire, please."

"They're all backward. I packed my slides the wrong way."

Anastius drew close, then blew out the apparatus's candle. "After breakfast. I have to lock up. The other rooms are fine and the Australians are due."

"You're fluffy again," Hermione sighed melodramatically. "Tergeo?"

Anastius swooped down. "Better make it worthwhile."

LXXIV.

Hermione leaned back into the embrace of the water's steaming jets, revelling in a decadence she thought she had given up with her Hogwarts prefect badge. The fluid pummelled away knots in her muscles, leaving her as limp as a rag doll. Alone, almost for the first time since Anastius Severus Prince had entered her life, she reviewed the day's events from every angle, coming to two conclusions.

He wanted her. Deeply. Not reflected glory. Not influence. Not her reputation.

And she wanted him in return. Mind. Body. Soul. For tonight. For this week. For as long as it lasted.

LXXV.

Severus opened his room with a touch of his wand. The chill drew his eyes immediately to the patio doors that led to the balcony, but he didn't miss the silk shawl draped over the arm of the sofa or the black, beaded clutch bag on the coffee table. Air flowed into his lungs.

She had made herself at home.

She didn't turn as he approached, simply allowing him to drink in the creamy lines of her shoulders and upper back, dusted by the flames of the room's many candles.

His fingers snaked around her velvet-encased waist. "You look beautiful."

LXXVI.

She didn't speak, but her reply was clear enough in the way her body leaned into his; supple, vital, at ease.

The sweep of snow was spectacular, a seemingly pristine expanse that went on to the horizon once you left the small wizarding village that surrounded the hotel. The night sky was beautiful enough, though it was too early in the evening for the aurora to be in play. It was stark and awe-inspiring.

Severus knew, however, that the scenery didn't account for the feeling of aching warmth centred inside his ribcage. That was down to Hermione and Hermione alone.

LXXVII.

Hermione heard the door, but his feet made no sound on either the carpeted floor or the balcony's tile. Still, she knew when he approached as surely as if he had worn hobnailed boots. She knew, and she relaxed into his touch as readily as she might sink into a feather bed.

"If someone had told me yesterday that I would be in your arms tonight," she commented, "then I would have thought they belonged in the Janus Thickey Ward."

"Part of me can't believe that you haven't consigned me there for having the temerity to hold you," Anastius answered.

LXXVIII.

Hermione smiled. "If Ron or Harry saw me now, they would send me to the Janus Thickey Ward." She rested her hands over Anastius's, her forearms framed within his. "And I can't bring myself to care."

"I would care very much," Anastius answered in a teasing tone. "I would even be forced to brave Kingsley's displeasure and go back to England to help you escape, if your freedom couldn't be procured for a suitable bribe."

Hermione tipped her head back and laughed. "Do you make a habit of procuring women from mental institutions?"

"I believe you would be the first."

LXXIX.

Severus basked in her joy. Though he willed his mouth to remind her they were expected elsewhere, he postponed the moment time and again.

"We should go soon," Hermione said in what he hoped was a regretful tone.

"Soon," he agreed, not moving.

"We'll be late," she added, this time with some amusement.

"Only for drinks. Dinner isn't served until eight," he murmured into her ear. He sighed and briefly tightened his hold before releasing her. "But you're probably right. There will be people there, other than those we're sharing a table with, whom it would profit you to meet."

LXXX.

Slowly, she turned to him.

Tilting her head up, she allowed Severus his first clear view of perfection. Diamante glittered at her ears and throat. Her hair was arranged in the flawless order created by a marriage of braiding and chignon. Her lips were stained with gloss of deepest crimson, and her lashes had been emphasised and lengthened, that and the thin kohl line drawing the gaze to the dark honey of her eyes.

She cradled his head, a thumb before each ear, and raised her heels even higher than her stilettos already did. "Profit has never been my priority."

LXXXI.

Hermione waited, her lips poised at so small a remove from his she could feel the warmth of his breath.

"We can stay a little longer if it is your wish," he whispered, his mouth almost but never quite touching hers.

"My wish is... this." She claimed his lips with a soft caress from her own. "I wish to know you. I wish to know the man Serafina loves. I wish to know how you think. I wish to know about the past and how it made you who you are. I wish to know everything, if you'll let me."

LXXXII.

Anastius's smile was nothing she'd ever seen in Hogwarts, gentle and wistful. "Ever the brave one."

"That's who you chose," she reminded with equal tenderness.

"I think even for you, everything may take longer than a week."

"Perhaps," Hermione admitted. "But if we try, we can make a start."

She watched as his gaze seemed to drop to the floor, eyelids almost closed as her heart pounded out the seconds of her wait.

He raised his head, meeting her eyes with deliberation. "One exception. You may ask what you will, but there is one secret that's for my wife alone."

LXXXIII.

"My future wife," Severus hastily added.

"That's alright then," Hermione answered. "A present wife would have made things rather awkward."

"There's no wife. There has never been a wife," he assured her.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Because of Harry's mum?"

"For the first twenty years, perhaps," Severus admitted, forcing the words out.

Her finger came up to press on his lips. "The rest of the story can wait."

"I thought you wanted to know everything."

"I do. When you feel comfortable telling me. When we don't have to be at a formal dinner in ten minutes."

LXXXIV.

"I— Well, it would be a lie to say that I want to tell you," Severus stumbled, "but I think you need to understand. Sometime, perhaps, we'll use a Pensieve to share the full story. The short version is this."

"You don't—"

"Shhh. I was nine when I met Lily. Initially, despite being in different houses, our relationship mirrored your own with Ronald Weasley. When we were sixteen, I did something unforgivable. The final straw. She... disowned me. I turned to the housemates she hated and... Eventually, I was the one who told the Dark Lord about the prophecy."

LXXXV.

Anastius swallowed. "My... home life was... squalid. Lily was everything I wasn't. Beautiful. Confident. Happy. Spirited. Kind. I worshipped her. When things fell apart, I blamed myself. If anything, I put her on an even higher pedestal. She wasn't just Lily any more. She was unattainable.

"When she died, guilt piled upon guilt, and over the years Dumbledore continually fed that remorse. It turned unreciprocated affection that should have withered with time into an obsession that governed my entire existence.

"The truth is that, though I once loved Lily, I was in love with an idealised Lily who never existed."

LXXXVI.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I'm not perfect. You know that? Apparently, I'm a know-it-all; I'm bossy and over-opinionated. I get irritable when I'm tired, and I can be impatient."

Anastius smiled, that gentle regretful smile. "I don't expect you to be perfect. I don't want you to be perfect. I just want something that's real."

Hermione instinctively resolved to erase that melancholia. She pulled Anastius's head down, claiming his lips with a tenacity and determination that was quickly reciprocated. "Real enough?" she demanded as they parted and she took his hand in hers, guiding him from the suite.

"Acceptable," Anastius conceded.

LXXXVII.

Hermione waited until the lift arrived to place her hand in the centre of Severus's chest and back him into the corner. She stood on tip-toe, whispering in Anastius's ear. "I don't often borrow from Ron's vernacular, but I'll make an exception." She caught his earlobe between her teeth, nibbling on it, before biting down. "Acceptable my arse!"

The fleeting pain sent a signal of an entirely different nature directly to Severus's groin. "In Merlin's name, witch!"

"Nothing I do is merely acceptable."

"The penalty of being Hermione Granger," Severus gasped. "Expectations are so high, you could never exceed them."

LXXXVIII.

"You're setting a dangerous precedent," Hermione softly warned, stepping back as the lift clunked to a stop. "If we're grading on that sort of curve, you might find you start out on troll."

"I consider an acceptable to be a... commendable beginning." Severus held out his elbow and Hermione curled her hand around it as they exited the lift.

"You do?" Hermione whispered. "And what exactly does it take to merit an outstanding?"

"Obviously one should be able to demonstrate well-rounded, thorough and intimate knowledge of all aspects of the subject under review."

"That would require some intensive study."

"Precisely."

LXXXIX.

"Severus!" Serafina whispered instructions to her protégé under the pretence of a welcoming hug. "Miss Granger, come and meet some of the other ladies."

Hermione's eyes sought Anastius.

His nod was infinitesimal, but his reassuring smile was distinct, even as he bowed a goodbye.

"He will not run away," Serafina commented. "Or not for long."

"Don't be so sure. Last time I lost track of him, he disappeared for eight years." Hermione raised her voice for Anastius's benefit.

"That does not mean he lost track of you," Serafina replied. "Last time, our lone wolf had not chosen to court you."

XC.

"Ladies, allow me to present Miss Hermione Granger," Serafina began. "Miss Granger acts as an advisor to the London Ministry's Aurors. She will be giving a presentation tomorrow morning on forensic applications in potions, so if any of you ladies have been considering poisoning your latest husband, or lacing anyone's food in order to get yourself a new one, I would suggest you attend."

Then, Serafina introduced the others. Hermione filed each name away for reference on a mental index card, but it took all her concentration not to allow her eyes to follow her thoughts in search of Anastius.

XCI.

Severus smoothed ruffled feathers and greeted old acquaintances, but he made each conversation brief, and then he headed to the bar.

"I didn't know whether you were planning on drinking this evening or whether you're playing safe because of your presentation in the morning," Severus said, holding up two glasses, one containing whisky and one a clear sparkling liquid.

Hermione took the second one.

"Favouritism, professor?" drawled a dark-skinned beauty. "Or do all your former pupils get waiter service?"

"No, Madam...?" Anastius's eyebrow arched.

"Rosier."

"Madam Rosier." He smirked. "A gentleman always provides drinks for his companion. How is Blaise?"

XCII.

Severus squirmed as a sandaled foot stroked his shin under the table.

"You could have warned me," Hermione whispered as the soup was served. "I thought Serafina was joking about people poisoning their husbands."

"She was," Severus muttered. "No one has ever proven Fahari Whatever-Her-Name-Is-This-Week guilty of any wrongdoing."

"She's your age and she's buried eight very rich husbands," Hermione protested. "How much more proof do they need?"

"She's a Potions Mistress, who could prove anything? Until you and your forensic applications came along."

Hermione peered at her soup. "Why do I suddenly feel the need for a taste tester?"

XCIII.

Hermione reached under her chair as the table settings refreshed themselves in preparation for the dessert course. She had already pulled the vial from her bag when Anastius's hand covered hers.

"Invigoration Draught?" Anastius asked.

"It's just gone nine," she explained, "but my body's telling me it's after midnight and I was up late last night finishing a report for Kingsley."

Hermione barely caught the flash of his wand.

"If I weren't here, would you still be taking that?"

"I— You are here." Hermione felt as if he were trying to pass on some message with his eyes alone.

"Don't."

XCIV.

"You and I both know that you would pay for that in the morning," Anastius remarked.

"It's not so bad."

"I meant it when I said I don't expect anything from you." Anastius grazed the back of her hand with his thumb, and it, or maybe it was his words, sent a bolt straight to her heart. "If this is going to mean anything, then it will mean as much whenever we... take the next step."

"For someone who doesn't expect anything, you seem damned confident," Hermione answered.

"Well, you wouldn't need Invigoration Draught to put your slides in order."

XCV.

Severus placed his hand at Hermione's back, guiding her from the room. Her skin was smooth as sun-warmed marble under his splayed fingertips. He reminded himself that he wasn't some teenager, needing instant gratification.

They entered the lift with a handful of others, rising upward in silence until they stepped out at their floor.

They passed Severus's door, carrying on until they reached Hermione's. Severus's backward glance showed two other potioneers, fumbling exaggeratedly with their doors. With a wistful smile, Severus took Hermione's hand in his and lifted her fingers to his lips.

"Goodnight, Hermione." He bowed and backed away.

XCVI.

Severus paused when he reached his door, waiting for Hermione to safely enter her room. His eyes met hers, both sets gleaming with amusement when he realised that she had, likewise, been waiting for him to depart.

He leant against his door jamb, crossing one leg over the other at the shin. "I can afford to stay here all night, taking in the view. However, I believe you have a presentation to give tomorrow."

"A presentation I hope you will attend," Hermione answered as she slinked in his direction.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts couldn't prevent me."

She pressed her lips to his.

XCVII.

Strong arms enfolded her as the kiss continued and deepened.

Finally, Hermione pushed back against Anastius's chest, and his hold eased enough for her to watch his face as she caught her breath. "That's a goodnight kiss," she told him. "Not kissy fingers."

"Kissy fingers didn't leave me needing another cold shower," Anastius announced drily.

"I was thinking of winding down with a bath."

"You're trying to kill me, woman."

Hermione smiled softly, stretching to place her lips by Anastius's ear. "Actually, I was hoping to convince you to join me," she whispered. Turning on her heel, she strolled away.

XCVIII.

Hermione deliberately didn't look back as she touched her wand to her door and made her way inside.

He'd come. She'd bet the life of her firstborn on it. She might be doing exactly that.

She made her way to the bathroom, turning on the taps.

He was there when she straightened up.

"Tell me what you want, Hermione," he requested so softly it was almost a sigh.

"I already told you."

"If we share that bath, things may progress faster than is advisable," Anastius warned.

"You mean premature ej—"

"Hell no! I mean condoms and water don't mix."

XCIX.

"Oh! I see." Hermione unhurriedly turned her back to him. "Zip."

As if he had been doing these things for her for years, Severus undid the hook and eye at the top of the zip and slid the fastening downward, his breath catching in his throat when he exposed nothing but creamy skin.

"...Two choices."

Severus shook his head.

"We either postpone the bath until after the sex, which seems like a terrible waste." Hermione turned, and as she did the stiff velvet slid downward, until only the boning in the bodice stopped its fall.

"Or we say forget 'advisable'."

She was like Venus rising from the sea, teasing, yet somehow innocent in her nakedness, and he literally ached to be inside her, to make her his.

His mouth descended on hers, cutting off further speech. One hand tangled into her coiffure, pulling pins free and loosening the braiding until her hair rioted around them both to complete the image of a wanton goddess. The other slid first to clasp her behind, pulling her tight against the evidence of his arousal, and then exploring all the skin within easy reach.

It wasn't enough. He helped her tear his clothing away.

CI.

When she had gained complete access to his upper body, Anastius gasped out one word. "Pill?"

"Yes!"

He used his forearm to brush the vanity unit clear of toiletries before lifting Hermione onto its edge, dark serge scratching at her inner thighs. "Next time we'll take it slow," he promised as his breath raised gooseflesh on her neck. His hands cradled her rounded breasts, his thumbs brushing gently against her nipples until they formed peaks.

She pushed his trousers aside, her hand sliding inside his trunks, teasing and caressing, before even those were discarded and he stood exposed before her.

CII.

She only realised she had taken her lip between her teeth when his thumb rose to stroke her mouth.

Their eyes met, and he lifted an eyebrow in a gesture half manly pride and half seeking approval.

She smirked. "Acceptable."

He grabbed a folded towel and dropped it at his feet before sinking to his knees.

Her fingers found purchase in the soft, gel-slick strands of his hair.

He kissed, nuzzled, licked and probed until her whole body quaked in reaction.

Trying not to scream, she ground her words out between clenched teeth. "I'm sober. You promised. Now fuck me."

CIII.

Severus searched her face as he shifted on the balls of feet until his prick was poised at her centre, convincing himself that he could still stop if she had doubts, but all he saw was impatience.

He gripped her above her knees and pushed sharply into her welcoming warmth, shimmying his hips until she cradled every last part of his length inside her. Her fingernails marked his shoulders with crescents as she pressed her cheek against his collarbone, stifling a wordless cry.

Her radiance swallowed him whole, her slender body the receptacle for every mote of goodness he contained.

CIV.

The desperation of moments earlier had evaporated, for him, for Hermione, too. Her hands skimmed over his skin now like the touch of a hundred warm snowflakes. Her head tilting back on the graceful column of her neck, she took sweet kisses from his lips, kisses he gave freely.

Like hers, his hands moved with instinctual gentleness, raising gooseflesh from neck to knee, shoulder to fingertips. His hips began to glide back and forth, slower than the pendulum on the tallest grandfather clock, sliding into her and out again, an act of worship and his ultimate absolution. Homecoming and heaven.

CV.

Hermione was drowning, her entire being immersed in beauty and sensation. Everything was more than she could have anticipated, from the dark chocolate mint of his after-dinner kisses, to the all-over sun-gold tan of his almost hairless skin. The tone of swimmer's muscles that danced under her fingertips was a deeply masculine counterpoint to her own curves. The tenderness of his touch was an unexpected balm to her spirit, and at her centre the slowly building friction of their union was sublime.

Hermione was drowning. Silent tears fell from her eyes, and she never wanted to come up for air.

CVI.

She tasted salt on her lips, and when his mouth left hers, she knew that he had, too.

"Hermione?" The whispered enquiry was cracked and faltering. Anastius's hands coming up to push back her hair, his demon-black, angel-bright eyes searched her face. She saw the fear as his thumbs sweetly brushed the trails from her cheeks, and if she hadn't wrapped her legs around him, her high heels sticking into his flesh, she thought he would have withdrawn.

"Don't stop, An," she pleaded, losing herself as the fear receded and something she could only call love remained. "Don't ever stop."

CVII.

"I couldn't," Severus confessed, thrusting faster as her first tremors prompted him to slip a hand between them. Forehead to forehead, his eyes feasted on the warmth in hers. His thumb found what he sought, and her tension soared. He felt the burning sensation preceding climax, and his digit circled and pressed until she was so tight that it was a symphony of pleasure and pain.

"Come, Hermione," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Come for me."

Her arms tightening around him, she shook. Then, his semen surged deep inside her and she sagged in his arms.

CVIII.

Severus held her in his arms, ignoring the weakness in his knees. He just held her tight until finally he slipped from her and then he held her slightly longer, until she began to support her own weight. Then he loosened his hold, and held her some more.

"Okay now?" he asked softly.

Hermione nuzzled against his shoulder as if she wanted to hide her face. "Okay doesn't cover it," she mumbled.

"You won't fall if I let go?"

"I think I already did," she whispered against his throat.

"Join the club." He kissed her rumpled hair. "Join the club."

CIX.

Hermione watched from her perch as Anastius extracted both their wands and assorted toiletries from the bottom of the bathtub and inserted the plug, which she had thankfully forgotten. Once the tub had begun to fill, he added liquid from one of the displaced bottles, and the room filled with the subtle scent of chamomile and spices.

He removed her shoes before he helped her down from the counter and led her down the steps.

Neither spoke until she was settled in the V between his legs with her back against his chest.

"You took a risk," Anastius commented. "Why?"

CX.

"I don't suppose you'd accept Gryffindor impulsiveness as a reason?"

"No, because you're far more than a Gryffindor. If I thought you prone to that sort of impulsiveness I would— Well, we wouldn't be here now. You aren't some idiot who plays roulette with her life and her health."

"I'm going to sound like Sybill Trelawney," Hermione muttered.

"Sybill's been right at least twice in her life," Anastius pointed out.

"Because I knew we weren't going to change our minds. See! It even sounds idiotic. It's been a day. No one knows after a day."

"We do. You and me."

CXI.

"I don't even know if you want children," Hermione protested. "And even if you do, then you don't necessarily want them any time soon, though maybe, if you do, sooner would be better than later, but as soon as you mentioned thingies, I just thought, well, it's not like we could use them once we start trying, anyway. And that's just ridiculous because I don't even know where you live, or what you do other than research or anything about you, except what I learned in the war, and yes, that's the important stuff, but..."

"Relax. I'll tell you everything."

CXII.

"I own a farmhouse in Tuscany, with its own laboratory. I grow as many of my own ingredients as possible. Even though it's crass and not in keeping with the house, I have a private pool because I like to swim every morning.

"I've always wanted children, not a huge brood like the Weasleys, maybe two. Yes, I know I'm older than most first-time fathers, and I'd like children not too long after I marry, but I believe making sure they'll have a loving home takes precedence over whether I look like their grandfather picking them up from primary school."

CXIII.

"You're a long way from looking like anybody's grandfather."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, but your best friend and his progeny prove otherwise," Anastius pointed out as he lifted a bar of soap from the edge of the bath and began to lather Hermione's body.

Hermione gave a small snort. "Harry's parents are a terrible example. Having children at that age is completely irresponsible, no matter how much gold they had. Lily had no independence, no friends that weren't his. She comes across as just an adjunct to James."

"What would you do if you never needed to work again?"

CXIV.

Hermione giggled. "I'd buy myself a farmhouse in Provence, grow my own Potions ingredients, research whatever happened to take my fancy and write books that no one would publish."

"And children?"

"Well, I'd be working from home and so would their father, so we could probably work out some sort of rota between us."

There was silence just for a second.

"You haven't asked how I survived after Nagini attacked me," Anastius hinted.

"Phoenix tears?"

"No, nor antivenin, nor Blood Replenishing Potion."

"How then?"

"That's the secret. I'm sure enough to tell you, if you're sure you want to know."

CXV.

Severus felt her draw in a deep breath, and waited for her to demand whether that had been a proposal, but she let the breath escape.

"You do realise that you more or less dared a Gryffindor there?" she asked with all the appearance of serenity.

"It occurred to me."

"And I can't be a know-it-all if I don't know it all," Hermione added.

"Indeed," Severus answered.

"I'm going to have to take you up on your offer, then."

"Very well. I surv—"

"Wait! Aren't you going to swear me to secrecy?"

"There's no need. I'm this secret's keeper."

CXVI.

"I survived, my wife-to-be, because just before I came into Voldemort's presence, I drank some Elixir of Life."

Hermione instantly twisted until she lay on her front and then rose to her knees facing him.

"But then you would always be dependent on the elixir. Always!"

Severus nodded.

"And even if Flamel left some at Hogwarts, it wouldn't have lasted eight years, so either Dumbledore lied when he said the stone was destroyed..."

"Or?"

"Or you made another one." She stared incredulously.

Severus smirked. "I had a lot of free time as headmaster." He shrugged. "Flamel's notes may have helped."

CXVII.

"So when you asked what I would do if I never had to work again..."

"I wanted to know what you would do if you never had to work again. I would have been disappointed if you hadn't wanted to do something productive with your life. You're too intelligent to become an adjunct to anyone. Even me."

"But you could do so much with it," Hermione enthused.

"You can endow as many charities as you want," Anastius agreed. "Anonymously."

"But—"

"No one can ever know the stone exists. Riddle is gone, but one day another Dark Lord will arise."

CXVIII.

Hermione obviously wanted to argue the point, but, finally, she reclined in Anastius's arms again.

"Should I make some enquiries about properties in Provence, then?" he asked.

Hermione crinkled her nose. "Well, I shouldn't write off Tuscany until I've been there," she admitted. "And we have plenty of time. An infinite amount of time, really."

"In theory."

"It's not like I couldn't visit every weekend?" Hermione suggested.

"Every day, even."

"I just need to tell my parents, and talk the boys around to the idea. You don't mind a long engagement, do you? It's not like you're getting any older."