For the love of Merlin, spit it out.

“Ha – well... I need you to watch the shop.”

Severus's wand clattered to the floor in shock, and he Summoned it quickly, scowling. What in the hell makes you think I'll watch the bloody shop?

“I need to go run some errands and they make take a while. I asked Ron, but he's got his hands full: apparently Martha dropped Norbert off with him, and so I need you to watch the shop, there's no one else.”

He glowered at him. So put up the bloody closed sign, you dunderhead.

George stared at him. “Closed sign. Merlin's floppy dick, my brain's scrambled. We have a closed sign.”

Severus closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. For the love of... Weasley, have you lost your bloody mind?

“No. Well, yes. Some kid opened a vial of Confuzzlair, and it'll wear off eventually.”

Moron. Severus stalked to his storage cupboard, rummaging around briefly, then tossed a glass vial filled with pink smoke at him. Inhale, but do not touch.

George carefully lifted the wax seal and inhaled slowly. When his eyes opened he looked a great deal calmer. “Bloody brilliant.”

Severus accepted the closed vial with a snort. Perhaps you should place that particular product behind glass.

“Oh, probably. Anyway – I'll put up the closed sign after I ring out whoever I wandered off and left waiting up there. Thanks for the antidote! ” George hummed to himself as he closed the door behind him and Severus cleaned the chalkboard with a flick of his wand.

Moron. He smirked as he peered into the cauldron he was using to test something for St. Mungo's. Still, at least work will never be dull.

Nothing wound himself around Severus's ankles as he fought to remove his snow-covered dragonhide boots in the entryway. February was miserably cold and wet and he was bloody well sick of it. Damn cat – knock it off! No matter how he turned to avoid him, the feline seemed set on garnering his attention.

Having had enough, Severus hung his frock coat on the open peg next to his damp cloak and picked up the cat, looking penetratingly into the beast's golden eyes with a snarl. Nothing had the temerity to purr at him and he sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. Cradling the rumbling cat to his chest, he mounted the stairs and knocked on the closed office door.

“Come in, ” Hermione called, sounding distracted. His eyebrow arched at the mess. Lists and parchments and computer print-outs were only a fraction of the debris littering what was usually a tidy room. Hell, even the decorative knickknacks she adored and he loathed were buried.

You look tired.

She snorted. “Hello to you, too.” Hermione sighed and tossed her capped pen down on the book open in front of her. “Filling out these forms is exhausting. I refuse to get suckered into something so I can be taken advantage of again and I'm tired of cross-checking it all. I just want to start a new type of business! ”

Severus hesitated a moment, considering how well she'd take the suggestion before shrugging and deciding she could bloody well take his advice or not. Ask Narcissa. She knows several rather slippery lawyers who could do this for you, leaving you free to draw up the rest of your goals and find an office space.

Hermione frowned, nibbling on her lower lip. Nothing leapt from his arms to her desk, gnawing on the edge of what must have been a particularly tempting quill. “I don't know, Severus...”

While Draco has yet to accept you due to his youth and tendency to hold lingering grudges, I had thought that you and Narcissa got on rather well.

“We do, I mean, I like her when I forget she's Draco's mother, ” Hermione hedged, pulling the quill away from the cat and shoving it hap-haphazardly into a drawer. Nothing sulked as the witch massaged his ears. “I just... I want to do this.”

Understandable. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing one foot over the other. But pray, tell me – how is it taking away from your goal to use all of the resources at your disposal? You are capable of doing the work yourself, yes, but why not take advantage of those at hand?

She slumped, and he sighed. I am not trying to say you cannot do this. I am merely pointing out that your time can be better served by using the assistance of someone in that field to do this for you while you concentrate on what is most important. I cannot imagine that starting an employee resource business is simple.

“It won't be easy, ” Hermione agreed, propping her chin up on her hand. She'd refused to call it Human Resources, as she wished to provide aid to House Elves and the like as well as witches, wizards, and Squibs. “I need to set up goals, make guidelines for how to send in to me, that sort of thing. I also need to find employees – at least one or two – and get the loan approved from Gringotts.”

He scowled – that had been a point of contention with him from the start. He knew that his witch was determined to do it herself, but she insisted on a proper loan, rather than letting him help. It wasn't like he gained anything, he just wanted to help, to be a part of it, and hadn't managed to drill that into her skull. Perhaps her hair was too thick.

“And then, ” she continued, oblivious to his distraction, “there's the matter of confidentiality charms and contracts for those...” Hermione stopped, looking positively daunted. “Alright, so maybe I should ask Narcissa about a lawyer for some of these.”

Good, Severus thought, but merely nodded to her.

“Thanks.” She looked almost instantly relieved. “Can you write to her for me? ”

Of course, he replied. I'll send Archimedes with it later. Did you have plans for dinner tonight?

“No, I've been caught up with this and entirely forgot about food.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbled and his lips curved, amused. Hermione picked Nothing up from the desk and rose, the cat kneading her breasts from his precarious perch. “Take away, or do you feel up to cooking? Or I can probably make spaghetti. I think we've got a jar of sauce in there still.”

I can cook or you can order Chinese.

“Mmm, Chinese. Eggrolls? ”

Of course. She passed him and he placed his hand on the small of her back gently as she moved towards the stairs. A moment's consideration and he closed the office door. No sense in letting Nothing back in there to destroy the parchments.

“Happy Valentine's Day, ” Hermione said as she bounced downstairs. Severus glanced up from his paper, annoyed.

There's nothing bloody happy about it, he thought with a snarl. I've been making chocolate to assist with the orders all bloody month and I'm already sick to death of pink and cherubs. Still, he merely looked back at his paper. Hermione ignored his surly mood and kissed his cheek on her way to the warm pot of tea on the counter.

“Don't be a grump, you know I'm not the type to expect flowers and romance.” She inhaled the steam from her mug, smiling, then added in sugar.

Severus felt his cheeks heat as he watched her go with hooded lids and knew the moment she'd reached the living room by her pleased exclamation. Maybe she didn't expect flowers and romance, but the witch deserved the bloody things, which is why a bouquet of enchanted pink roses had been sitting on the small table awaiting her discovery and warded from Nothing and Archimedes' perusal.

He took another sip of tea, listening to her coo over the flowers. I'm not bloody romantic, he assured himself. It is merely tradition to mark the day, and that particular color seems to please her.

Hermione bounded back into the kitchen, knocking aside his paper to kiss him soundly. Severus leaned into the kiss, cupping her cheek as her hair engulfed them both, smelling faintly of yesterday's perfume. If this was her reaction to a paltry token of flowers.... He banished the thought, returning her kiss fervently and wondering if she'd mind calling to make reservations for dinner.

“Let me, ” Hermione murmured, pulling him down to her. The petals of the rose she'd tucked behind her ear in a moment of apparent whimsy as they'd snogged their way from the entrance to the bedroom tickled his nose. Her lips brushed over the scars on his neck, murmuring words of love, and his cock twitched in anticipation. His tongue was still slightly sticky from the sweet sponge, and if he inhaled slowly he could smell that perfect blend of curry lingering on their clothes.

“Tonight was unexpectedly wonderful.” Her chilled fingers edged up his waistcoat and shirt to slide against the hot skin of his stomach and he sighed. “Let me do this for you, love...”

Severus sat up from her, unbuttoning his garments while his eyes captured hers. He loved the way her eyes darkened, the way her hair crackled with static when she wriggled her jumper over her head. His shirt joined hers on the floor and he reached for her bra.

The sight of his long fingers undoing the clasp of the simple cream lace garment sent a jolt of pleasure to his groin. He would never tire of this, he thought, baring her lovely breasts to his gaze with a bit of a bounce. Hermione grinned up at him, tugging on the placket of his wool trousers. Together they wrestled out their remaining clothing, silky knickers landing atop his grey pants, one sock askew on the edge of the bureau.

“Gorgeous, ” she murmured, pushing him lightly down onto the bed. He looked up at her, entranced by the open love and adoration on her features. Hermione's eyes were soft, her hands tracing gently down his chest. Severus inhaled sharply as her nails grazed his nipples. She was concentrating on touching him, the chair on his chest crinkling when she traced the patterns of old scars. “Thank you.”

For what? Loathe to raise his hands and distract her from her perusal of his form, Severus looked at her questioningly. Hermione blushed, the tinge of pink on her neck and breasts utterly charming. Damn. 'Charming'. How trite can I get?

“For dinner, I mean, ” she clarified. She bent and laved his flat nipples with her tongue and he inhaled, willing her to move lower. “And the flowers...” Hermione lay against him, nestling into his arm, her hand moving across his thin ribs into the dip of his belly and down. “I know you hate it, but it was a very sweet Valentine's day.”

A derisive snort escaped him before he could stop it and the scowl was replaced by a wince as she slapped his thigh lightly in punishment. “Don't be a git, ” she scolded. “I'm going to keep telling you you're sweet until you believe it.”

Rolling his eyes he awkwardly embraced her around her shoulders and pulled her up for a brief kiss, trying to pour all the love and passion he held for her into it. Hermione whimpered and he gladly pressed his advantage, darting his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She mewled softly, her hand sliding to grasp his cock firmly, and he was the one to gasp.

Fingers circled his girth, drawing up and down the length of him. Her fingertips explored the flared head as Hermione broke the kiss, stretching clumsily to kiss the sensitive scarring on his neck. Severus groaned softly, pressing her closer. She was warm and curvy and his free hand stole to a breast, cupping it and thumbing the rosy tip he longed to suckle. Hermione's touch was more sure, stroking his heavy cock firmly between pauses to fondle his lightly furred sac. He throbbed at each interval, aching for more.

Hermione tugged on his thick cock, making him absolutely delirious. Fire was in his mind and he could feel his cheeks heating as he drew closer to the edge. With each upwards pull she caressed his head before moving down the shaft with the smear of precum leaking from the tip, his hips jerking sporadically as he tried to follow. She was stroking faster, and as his back bowed, ready to burst from the pleasure, she stopped.

Panting, his eyes snapped open to find her staring at him hungrily, already trying to shift to her back. “Please, ” she murmured. “Severus, please...”

He rolled them both over as he kissed her, sliding his hand from her breast to the curls between her legs. Hermione's moan filled his mouth, his fingers finding her slick with moisture, but still he nudged her legs further apart to admit him.

Her clit was hard and he dipped his fingers into her wet entrance briefly – too briefly, judging by the whine that escaped her – before moving back to the nerves he knew would please her. Each circle of his fingers made her writhe under him and he watched her nipples pebble. Breasts heaving, Hermione panted her pleasure into the kiss, making him light-headed.

When she was moaning, her body tightening and nails sinking into his shoulders, he stopped and she wailed at his denial.

Don't worry, he thought, willing her to understand. He guided his cock into place, the blunt tip pressing smoothly into her and she arched, her breasts rubbing against the hair of his chest. Oh, Merlin, so tight...

She was so close: he could tell by the way she moved with his thrusts, helping him find the rhythm to strike the spongy place inside her until she sobbed. Severus dropped his face to her neck, his nose bumping against her as he tried to plant damp kisses to her flushed flesh.

His hair fell around them both and he paused long enough to grasp her hands and link his fingers with hers, pressing them to the mattress on either side of her head before thrusting again. She felt incredible around him, so wet, so hot, so bloody tight. Hermione squeezed his hands, crying out, and his focus shifted from pleasing her to chasing his own orgasm. She was coming, his name a plea, a prayer, on her kiss-swollen lips, and he could feel each pulse of her sweet cunt around his length.

The feel of her rippling around him, gripping him to tightly, had him pounding desperately into her. His chest burned for air as her legs wrapped more tightly around his waist and she whimpered in disbelief as he drove her closer to another edge. His blood roared in his ears just as he tipped her over once more and followed himself, inflamed and utterly enchanted by his witch. Oh, Hermione, oh sweet, yes, yes, yesyesyes – oh, fuck!

White obscured his vision though he knew his eyes were wide open. His hips jerked helplessly with each spurt of his seed and he shuddered at the power of it.

“Oh, god, ” she said a few moments later once they'd caught their breath. “That...that was intense.”

Severus laughed soundlessly in agreement, his breath puffing out moistly against her neck. I don't think I've come quite so hard in a while, he thought to himself, pulling out with a wince. He hated the gush of fluid that followed, ruining what should have been a lovely post-coital moment. Hermione flicked her wand and the flannel they used for their activities soared into the room. A few more charms and it was warm and damp and he cleaned them both before Banishing it with a flick of his fingers.

He pulled her against his heated skin, uncaring that they were both slick with sweat, and gestured for the sheets to cover them while she extinguished the lights. Her lips brushed over his chest. “I love you.”

He tightened his hold on her and pressed a kiss to her damp temple to assure her of his continued affections. And I you.

“Ugh, ” Weasley said as he entered the office, knocking March slush from his trainers. “Can it be spring yet? I've been cooped up in the shop, then at home and Martha's been itching to take Norbert out in a pram but the snow's making it impossible.”

“Apparate somewhere warmer, ” George suggested, handing his brother a warmed Butterbeer.

Weasley opened the drink, sulking. “Can't. Norbert's too little.”

“Huh. Go figure. Snape, want a Butterbeer? ”

Severus shook his head and scowled. He'd long-taken over George's desk and had propped his feet up on the corner, crossed at the ankles. He'd even kept his frock coat unbuttoned despite the chill of the unheated room in an attempt to seem more approachable.

He bloody hated meetings – they'd been one of the first things he'd hated as a teacher. Sitting through budget meetings, staff meetings, meetings on how his House was progressing, on Death Eater activity... Bloody awful meetings. And now he was trapped in another workplace meeting. His lip curled in distaste, handing the two red-heads the reports he'd prepared to avoid using the chalkboard over-much.

“I hate this part, ” Weasley muttered. “Too many numbers.”

George shrugged. “Still, it needs to be done. Thanks for this, Snape.”

He waved his hand airily, urging him to get on with it.

“Right, so, the cost of the outside brewing is actually pretty negligible, since you've got your contracts with the apothecaries for supplies. Even on big pushes of product like the chocolates, you know, around Valentine's day, they can handle most of the load, so I don't think we need to increase the number of brewers working on our stuff.” George looked up at them both. His brother was frowning at the numbers, as if that would force them to arrange themselves in a matter better suited to his comprehension. “We had a minor theft incident last year, but the employee was dealt with... We haven't had any issue thanks to those iron-clad confidentiality contracts Severus had everyone sign, which is even better. No competition or copy-cats.”

“Right. No one seems pissed we've replaced Zonko's, either, ” Weasley interjected. “None of the students are upset, and in fact seem pretty bloody happy. The older years get a lot of use out of the mail ordering, too.”

Frankly, Severus was glad Zonko's had sold to the Wheezes. He'd had far too many terms where some child had thought themselves so very clever by trying to replace his cup with one of the joke shop's nose-biting teacups. It had gotten to the point where he'd had enough of those bloody things that he could have outfitted every seat in the entire Great Hall with one and pranked the entire student body in one go.

....Why the hell did I not think of that sooner? At least it would have provided some measure of amusement!

“Right.” George made a note, and Severus rolled his eyes irritably. Meetings were interminable. The only blessing was that here he wouldn't be scolded like a recalcitrant child for displayed his lack of enthusiasm. Hell, they almost expected it of him. “So, I was thinking about advertising a bit, any suggestions? Ron, you see more of the kids than I do, what do you think they'd read and see an advert in? ”

“Dunno, rightly.” Weasley scratched his scalp. “We could split up where we advertise. Like the Wonder Witch products in Witch Weekly, maybe develop some to appeal to the more mature Witches.”

I may have some ideas on that front, Severus wrote on the board he'd enlarged from his pocket.

“Great! It's a shame we can't start a kid's publication – easy puzzles or magical exercises and comics.” He looked sheepish. “Harry introduced me to comic books he got from his cousin and they're pretty cool. I'd love to see a Wizarding version and have 'Bert grow up reading them. I think I'd have read more if books had been, yanno, fun.”

Severus blinked. It was a surprisingly good idea. He's not quite as daft as he appears to be, he admitted to himself. Oh, he'd known the boy wasn't an idiot, but it was gratifying to see him using his brain on something more than 'the greasy git is up to something', food, and Quidditch. He wiped the board clean and picked up the chalk. Make inquiries to Lovegood regarding publishing, he suggested, and George made notes.

“Anything other ideas, Ron? ”

“The Prophet, maybe the Quibbler, too.”

“How about contests? ” George interjected. “I was thinking, something with a giveaway or -”

Severus jumped slightly as his pocket vibrated; he retrieved his mobile, flipping it open with a frown that quickly turned into concern.

“Snape? ” Weasley asked.

“Severus? Everything okay? ” George lowered his quill, watching him. “Is Hermione alright? ”

'I am coming, ' he replied, and rose, flicking his wand at the chalk to write She's fine on the board as he left the office and hurried to the lab and its private door. The streets of Diagon Alley weren't too busy, the ice and slush thick on the cobblestones. He passed Knockturn Alley and headed for the side street Hermione'd directed him to.

“Hello, ” she said softly as he rounded the corner, sitting on the ice. She was pale, spots of color on her cheeks in the wind's chill. “Severus, this is Mr. Mahoney, the realtor. Mr. Mahoney, thank you for staying with me, but I'd prefer if my fiance took me to St. Mungo's.”

What happened? Severus asked, brow furrowing. He moved to inspect her ankle, putting himself between her and the portly Mahoney.

“I slipped on the ice, ” Hermione told him, her voice strained. He turned it as gingerly as he could as he could, wincing at her swift inhale of pain. “I heard several pops. I don't know if it's broken or sprained and I'm not a healer and it hurts. Mr. Mahoney offered to Apparate me to St. Mungo's, but I figured that you were in Diagon Alley anyway...”

She was babbling. Severus caught her chin, surprised at the chill of her skin, and captured her eyes with his. He hated to do it, but he entered her mind gently. Pain was present, relief at his present, she was clearly going into shock, and he sought the memory of her slip. If that realtor had had a hand in it... but no, she'd merely slipped and fallen quite hard. The crack of bone was audible, and he withdrew from the memory. Calling forth his own calm, he fed it to her mind the way he could give her pleasure before letting himself free from her mind.

“It hurts, ” she said. She was calmer now, but he caught the tremble in her voice, the sheen of tears in her eyes.

It is broken, he told her. I am going to use a Weightless Charm on you, Hermione, and lift you. Are you ready?

She nodded, dislodging her knit cap from her curls. “Please.”

Mahoney picked up her hat, and Severus lifted her. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, muffling her shriek in his frock coat.

“Here, sir.” The elderly gentleman extended her hat and Severus took it awkwardly between two fingers. “I'll send you an owl, Miss Granger, about the property. Again, miss, I am so terribly sorry for the incident. If there's anything I can do to be of further aid...”

“Thank you, ” she said, and Severus glanced down to see her gritting her teeth. With a curt nod at the other man he Apparated with a pop, appearing in St. Mungo's waiting room. Hermione looked up at him, pain across her features. “Do you think we'll wait long? ”

As much as possible, he shrugged, and approached the reception desk. The waiting room didn't have many people in the chairs, so either it was a blissfully slow day or all of the staff had their hands full.

“Name and ailment? ” The bored Healer didn't even look up from his paper.

“Hermione Granger, broken ankle.” Her voice was tight and the man looked up at the name in surprise.

“Granger? The - Merlin's knees, you are! And with - ” Severus gave the man the most thunderous look he could manage while holding the injured witch as possible, and the healer immediately rummaged for the admittance forms. “Er, I apologise. Broken ankle? Cause? How long ago? ”

“I slipped on some ice, and about five to seven minutes ago, ” she replied. Severus cradled her closer, grateful for the charm that allowed him to do so. He wasn't fully certain he could hold her full weight for an extended period and dropping her was likely the wrong thing to do.

“Well, just fill out this form, here, and this one, as well as you can...” The Healer handed them a small stack of parchments. “Sorry, miss, but it's your first time visiting us as a patient and I'm afraid there's a bit of paperwork involved. If you'll have a seat, one of our Healers will be with you as soon as they can.”

“Thank you.” Hermione released his neck long enough to take the parchments, and Severus carried them to the unoccupied low couch. It was threadbare under his bony arse, with sagging springs, and he wondered if someone had stolen it from some Muggle's curb. “Alright. Paperwork. Right.”

Together, they shifted her and propped her injured appendage on the end of the couch. Severus took one of the forms and retrieved his spare quill from a pocket, filling in what details he could. At one point Hermione looked up at him with a grateful smile and he cupped her cheek, trying to reassure her.

“This sucks, ” she told him for the fourth time, petting Nothing sulkily.

As I am well aware, he replied impatiently. However, due to the need to repair multiple small bones in your ankle and foot, you are to stay off of it and in bed for the next week while the potions do their work. Preferably without the complaining, as I am the one whose ears shall be assaulted by it.

“But I have to much to do! ” Hermione argued. “I have wedding venues to go over. I need to see the realtor about the shop front I wanted for my business. I have to – oh, Merlin, I have to tell Mum and Dad we can't make dinner this weekend...”

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. Hermione... He hesitated. I can print out information on the venues. I am certain that your realtor is so chagrined at the incident that he will hold any property you're interested in as long as it means he still has your business. If there are other things pertaining to our nuptials, you may of course invite Ginevra to assist you while I am out.

“But it's our wedding, don't you want some say in it? ”

He gave her a dry look. If by that do you mean if I care about colors or flowers or seating arrangements, I do not. Compile what you like best and if you wish my input we can make the final decision together.

“And Mum and Dad? ”

Severus paused, heartbeat quickening. I could be convinced to Floo with them from the Leaky or Apparate with them if you would prefer to keep with your weekly tradition.

Hermione stared at him. “Severus, do you mean it? I thought you didn't like the house and people traipsing in and out, but you do realise you've just offered to let Ginny and my parents over, right? ”

I am not a fool and am well aware of what courtesies I have extended. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and handed her the Pain Potion. Take this. Should I bring you the owl?

“Her name's Archimedes, but yes, please.” Thank Merlin the witch knew when change the subject and not to thank him. He didn't particularly want to invite Ginevra or Hermione's parents into his home, but...it was time. He may not like the idea of others seeing the decrepit neighborhood and his home – sure, it wasn't as depressing as it once had been, but he still did not desire to be judged on his abode. It was the best he could do given the area. “Severus? ”

He turned at the top of the stairs, a questioning look on his face.

“Thank you.” Hermione smiled and he rolled his eyes, heading down to fetch his owl.

Monday had been interminable: he'd barely managed not to explode a particularly volatile cauldron of experimental brew, and he'd had to pop over to St. Mungo's to consult on a cursed patient. Why those morons asked for his aid and then argued with him... Scowling, he hung his cloak on its peg. At least the slush was melting more quickly now. With his luck, it would likely freeze again.

Worse, Skeeter had either seen them at the hospital or someone had snitched, and this morning's paper had borne an article debating if he was abusive to Hermione. Him! Of all people! The thought had set him on edge all day, regardless of Hermione's attempts at comforting texts. At least he'd managed to stealthily acquire Jean and Anthony's copy of the paper before they awoke. It wasn't like he'd been breaking or entering, he told himself, unlacing his boots. He had a bloody key.

Tomorrow would be a bright spot, for he had plans for lunch with Cissy and Draco. She'd even provided him with a Portkey and he was looking forward to Riviera sunshine, if only for an hour. If lunch was short he may even be able to harvest a few ingredients from their gardens and save a few Sickles on his next order.

Giggles from upstairs made him sigh; he hadn't realised that Ginevra was still here. May as well get this over with, he thought, trudging towards the stairs. If he was honest with himself, he'd been hoping to come home, do something about dinner, and read for a few hours rather than entertain company.

At the bottom of the stairs he stopped, frowning. The washer was running. Damn it, Hermione, you are supposed to stay in bed! Annoyed, he mounted the stairs. How the hell did she expect to heal if she didn't obey the Healer's directions?

Laughter – Hermione's – rang out, echoing on the landing, and he opened the door to their bedroom. Both girls were on the bed, Hermione on his side with her foot propped up a pillow, and Ginevra thankfully on the other side. Both witches were surrounded by papers and colorful swatches of fabric.

“Severus! Welcome home! ” Hermione grinned at him.

“Hello, sir, ” Ginevra said, smiling. He nodded at them both.

Why in Merlin's name is the wash running? You are supposed to remain in bed.

“I didn't start the wash, ” she told him smugly. His thunderous expression must have made her realise that she was treading on thin ice and hastened to explain. “I Banished the clothes there and Ginny merely started it.”

The red head nodded. “Hermione didn't think you'd be pleased if I saw your guys' underclothes, so all I did was follow her directions in which buttons to push.”

Severus scowled. Do not make a habit of that, if you will.

“Don't worry, love.” Hermione gestured him closer and he grudgingly obliged. “I know you'd take it as invasion of privacy.”

“And that's my cue to leave, ” Ginevra said, shuffling some of the parchments to the side. “Thank you for allowing me over, and I'm glad I was able to help, 'Mione.”

“Of course! ” The two embraced and he managed to be gracious enough to let the girl out before returning to the bedroom.

“Oh, don't snarl at me. She didn't open the washer – the soap goes in the little pull-out thing and you know it. And she didn't touch anything, either. Honestly, my parents saw more of the house and whatnot last night than Ginny did.” He hunched his shoulders, defensive. He didn't likepeople in his – their – home. “Come here, Severus.”

Complying, he sat beside her, gingerly moving a pile of bridal magazines Jean had brought her yesterday.

“You know I wouldn't do that to you, right? It's huge that you offered to let people over here, I know how much you hate this house.” Hermione grasped his hand and squeezed. “Don't worry, love. If you'd like, we can have a housewarming when we find a new home. Any area we choose will be more to your liking, I think, and you won't have to worry about feeling judged about where we live.”

He didn't bother replying, cheeks hot. She knew him too well.

“For the record, ” she continued calmly, “I like our house.”

Severus snorted, but she blushed. “No, really. This is where we first made love. Our first home together. Maybe I'm just sentimental, Severus, but it's true. I like our home, even if I would look forward to making a new home with you.”

He reclaimed his hand. Did you make any progress with your wedding plans?

Looking amused, Hermione reached for a beat up planner. “Our wedding plans, you mean? I think so. I just wanted your thoughts and approval on a few things...”

With a sigh, he resigned himself to a delayed dinner and stretched out on the bed beside her.

After the long, dreary winter the warmth of the Malfoy's French home was wonderful. It soaked straight to his bones and he handed his cloak to the eager House Elf. “Severus! ” Narcissa brushed her lips over his cheek, gesturing for him to follow. “I'm so glad you could make it. Astoria would have joined us, but she has an appointment with her wedding coordinator, so it will be only Draco joining us. How is Hermione? ”

Severus waited until he took his seat to bring out paper and pen to reply. “She is well – an injured ankle but she is healing.”

“I heard about that, ” Cissy said, her lips pursing in disapproval. “Are you going to handle it, or shall I pull a few strings? ”

He bared his teeth in a nasty smile, leaning over his paper. “I assure you that my retribution will be enough, but if you'd like to ensure that that odious woman will never work again in the industry, feel free.”

Cissy read it and laugh. “I do hope that your fiancee knows you're not a nice man.”

The pen scratched out: “Her own previous dealings with the woman were inspired.”

“I had heard of some of her escapades.” She lifted her tea cup to her lips, then paused, smiling. “Draco, darling, you're late for tea.”

“Apologies Mother, Severus.” The blond took his seat and accepted the delicate plate of sweets that floated over to him. “Astoria had a few last-minute questions for me. I'm sure you understand.”

“Of course, ” Cissy replied, offering Severus the plate next. Scowling, he avoided the pastel-coloured cakes in favor of the sandwiches, wondering if something more substantial would be served. Draco poured himself a cup of tea.

“How is work, Severus? ”

“Passable, ” Severus wrote left-handed. The tea was excellent – the fragrance was absolutely perfect, and knowing the Malfoy tastes, hideously expensive. He'd have to hint to Cissy that he enjoyed it. It was a game they'd played often, him and Lucius and Cissy, dropping subtle hints to each other about things they'd like done or wanted. Getting caught was half the fun, and Draco was slowly learning the fine art of it. “And yours? ”

“Fine. My staff have finally started to realise I'm an excellent businessman.” The boy looked smug. Good. He had his father's business acumen, and he'd done well to earn the trust of his shareholders before working on his cabinet. It had been well-planned. With the investors on his side, the boards couldn't vote him out. He was Lucius's son and it was good to see him grow into his own.

Draco continued for several minutes about some strategies he was implementing before Narcissa interrupted during a brief lull. “Speaking of permissions – Severus, I received a letter from your fiancee this morning. It seems that although the two of you are having a Muggle ceremony she wishes to know more on Wizarding customs, and extended an invitation for me to join her. Is this acceptable to you? ”

His eyebrow nearly reached his hairline. She what? Merlin, his witch... she was trying to be welcoming towards his friends. Still... he picked up his pen. “You do not need my permission.”

“I meant more as ensuring that I would not be over-stepping our friendship, ” she told him. He shook his head. Of course she wasn't. “Am I to tell her of the vows? ”

Grimacing, he nodded. The vows were something he'd yet to discuss with Hermione. To be honest, he did not wish to have to do so. Muggle vows were all well and good, but Wizarding vows had power of their own – and he had no voice to speak them. If she wanted a proper Wizarding marriage, she'd have to bond with him, and he could not ask that of her. She'd never be able to leave him or ask for a separation. They would be together for as long as they both lived.

“Then I'll do so. I merely wished to know what you had and had not discussed.”

“We had not discussed it, ” he wrote. “And you are not over-stepping. After all, would Draco be standing for me if you were not my closest friend? ”

“I am? ” Draco asked once Cissy had passed him the notebook. Severus smirked at him. Of course he bloody is. “You could have asked, Severus! ”

He rolled his eyes. What in Merlin's name do you think I just did?

Narcissa glanced at her delicate watch before tucking it back into a pocket. “It's getting late, and I know you were hoping to gather a few of my succulents before you left, Severus. I'll go and arrange that for you so you may finish your meal. If you boys would excuse me.”

They both rose until she'd departed and Severus reclaimed his paper.

Draco sagged in his seat, good posture forgotten. “You really want me to stand up for you when you marry Granger? ”

“Who else? Should I ask Harry to do so? Or a Weasley? ” Having read this, Draco laughed.

“I can't see you asking Potter to do it, no. And Merlin forbid a Weasley do it.”

Severus gestured for him to continue. You're practically vibrating with the need to speak, so for fuck's sake get it over with.

“Are you certain this is something you want to do? ” Draco asked. “You know Granger will take a bond with you. Merlin, I don't even know why you're with her, really.”

The last was more question than statement, and Severus sighed, flipping to a fresh page. He'd been wondering when Draco would ask. The boy had shown remarkable restraint.

“Hermione is many things that I admire in myself – she is clever and ambitious and when angered she is spiteful. She also holds traits I lack. She forgives her friends easily. She is patient and good-natured most of the time. She laughs easily. We are a good compliment, Draco. We are both intelligent people, but where her skills lie with knowing facts and combining them, I excel at the more creative aspects. She cannot cook, if you must know. She has never treated me like a hero to be worshipped or a man to be hated. Perhaps most importantly, she loves me.”

He ripped the filled page out for Draco read, frowning as he continued.

“It is difficult to sum up. How do you know you love Astoria? On paper, the reasons for love are small compared to the emotion itself. Unlike my previous romantic entanglements, it does not consume me. We exist together and for each other in a unique way. It is a true partnership. She does not shy from the darker sides of me, and I accept her annoying habits. The reasons are paltry compared to the depth of love I hold for her. I do not expect to have this conversation with you again.”

Severus picked at a quiche, waiting for the boy to finish. Draco was quiet for a while before flicking his wand to burn the pages.

“I suppose I didn't think about it like that. You understand, Severus, that Father had told me during one of my visits about you and Potter's mother, and I couldn't help but see the similarities. I worried that you were seeking a replacement of sorts.” Draco grimaced. “Hell, you could even think you were stealing her from Potter's side.”

With a snarl, Severus reached for his paper but the blond held up his hand. “Wait! Let me finish! ” Draco adjusted his robes minutely. “I do know you, Severus, and I can't see anything in what you've written that would allow me to continue to think that. Merlin, this conversation is awkward – Look. I can see that you love her. You bloody well wouldn't have written all that out if you didn't.”

The blond sighed. “What colors did she pick and what do I need to do? ”

Severus relaxed, smirking. “I believe she has chosen a deep grey and a shade of very pale pink. You will need to acquire a Muggle suit.”

“Muggle? ” Draco looked up from the paper, a pained expression on his face. “Do you intend to have me to do this on my own? ”

“He should, ” Cissy replied, her tone amused. She carried a covered basket of what appeared to be the items he wanted. “But no, Severus has offered to show me how to use his device to place and appointment as well as indicate the need for a translator.”

Draco groaned, burying his face is his hands.

“Don't slouch, dear. And elbows off the table, you're wrinkling the linens.”

I don't care, witch, he told her for the fourth time. I will be happy if at the end of the evening you are my wife. Stay within your budget if you'd like – go over if you'd like.

“I want to know what you think, ” Hermione snapped, hair crackling with static as she dragged the brush through it.

Severus sighed. Merlin save him from wedding planning. Perhaps he could land himself in Azkaban for a petty crime until August. Hermione. I do not have any definite opinions on anything you've mentioned. For Merlin's sake, you've asked to choose between oxford white, cloud white, and
bloody eggshell for table linens. Keep in mind that the names of these colors are now burned into my mind from the sheer repetition because they all look the damn same. Pick a fucking white and be done with it.

She scowled at him, hands on her naked hips. “It's important to have it all done as soon as possible! It's April and I need to finish with the invitations, find a dress, choose flowers, complete a seating chart, pick favors -”

He crossed the room and embraced her, effectively shutting her up. It took a moment but finally the scantily-clad witch pushed back, her eyes troubled.

Explain.

“There's so much! ” she wailed.

And?

Hermione spluttered for a moment.

Hermione, you are one of the most organised individuals I've come across. Start small – what is important? Music? Hardly. Pick a waltz or go with something traditional. I would advise against an organ in the small church you've chosen purely because we'd all go deaf. That got her to laugh. Hire someone to perform for the reception – perhaps the venue can recommend a set of musicians.

Nodding, she reached for her bracelet, putting it on carefully. “So classical and instrumental, easily done. The rest? ”

Merlin or whoever was listening, grant him patience. Go simple for flowers. No one will care in twenty years about table centerpieces. Pick candles rather than some lavish arrangement. The flowers that matter are your own bouquet, so focus on that.

“Candles would be nice. I wonder if I can get some that smell like an old library? ”

I can devise some. Severus replied automatically, then nearly kicked himself. Ah well, that would be worth it – her eyes lit up at his words.

“That would be perfect, actually! ”

Good. He knew he was on the verge of sulking, but couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Give your seating chart to Molly. I am sure by now she's positively beside herself with the need to meddle and assist. For that matter, have her cater the whole affair. It would keep her busy and you would not need to interview caterers as you know she is capable.

“She did do the food for Bill and Fleur's wedding...” Finally. He had her thinking and starting to delegate responsibilities.

As for favors... I have no experience with such a thing, so I am afraid that you must keep searching. Do what you like. Perhaps Diagon Alley will have something suitable to inspire you. Hermione nodded, tension slipping out of her, and she reached for her bra.

“Then there's another question, ” she ventured. Exasperated, he pursed his lips. “Do you have any visions of yourself lifting my veil? ”

He gave her a dry look. I don't give a flying fuck.

“Oh, good. I didn't want a veil because I thought I'd wear my hair down – oh, thank you.” She took the shirt from his hand and put it on, doing up the blouse's small pearl buttons. “This... helps a lot, Severus. Thank you.”

Anything to keep myself sane.

“Ha-bloody-ha, you. At least Mum found the perfect invitations and that's done. It's just sending them all out. Now hurry up and hand me my skirt if you would, we're expected and I'd hate to be late.”

April was hurtling towards May far too quickly for his tastes. Then again, if it brought reprieve from the constant drizzle, he'd welcome the next month with open arms. Skeeter had been quiet having been fired from the Prophet – not even the secondhand shoppe was carrying her hideous “books”, either – and he was blessedly left alone by members of the press as he stalked through Diagon Alley to where it intersected with Vocation Alley. Hermione had gladly tossed some of her wedding work on various friends and acquaintances despite her continued avoidance of dress shopping, in favour of setting up the lease with the realtor.

The small building was well-maintained, and would work very well for her Employment Resources. She'd contracted with Kingsley and had begun reaching out to other businesses. Even Draco had made a gesture – not that she had likely realised it as such – and contracted with her as well. It would not open until after their brief honeymoon, but that gave her time to train her chosen employees.

He'd assisted her in the hiring process, offering his insights on past students to help her pare down the list, and she'd interviewed extensively until she'd brought aboard what she thought were the best candidates. Frankly, she had chosen well.

“It's all painted! Come see! ” Hermione waved at Severus, clutching her umbrella. Raindrops bounced off the dull purple fabric, not that it did much to stop the damp mist from clinging to her curls. “All that I'm waiting on is the signs – isn't the location wonderful? ”

She beamed and handed him the umbrella, digging in her pocket for the key. She'd insisted he be here when she first opened her building's doors, and he was glad to be a part of her moment of happiness.

“It's perfect, ” she breathed, drying them both with a charm. Severus closed the umbrella and pulled his cloak's hood from his hair. The space was open and a blend of magic and Muggle in design. His nose wrinkled – even fresh magical paint had that acrid smell for a while, and it burned.

“See, here's where Harmony's going to sit, by the Floo. I'll have a perch, too, for owls. She's going to be an excellent receptionist... In here will the three offices for me and my employees. Upstairs...” Hermione grinned, hurrying to mount them. “I'm going to have a file room for old files – you'll have to do all the building's wards, though, I wouldn't trust anyone else with it – and I'll have a lunchroom and a research room! ”

Without permission his lips twitched into a smile. In her element, she was beautiful to behold, pointing out where she was storing this or that, telling him what sort of furnishings she wanted. He didn't see the need for a plush couch in the reception area, but if she said it was to relax the clients so they'd open up, well, she would know. He smiled and nodded at her enthusiasm in the right places.

Beaming, Hermione spun around. “I can't believe I'm doing this! I'm so excited! ” She stopped spinning, giddy elation writ across her lovely features. “There's nothing like this in our world – think of how many people I can help! The changes I can make! ”

Indeed, he replied. Is there anything else you wanted to show me, or would you like to remain here longer?

“Actually, I wouldn't mind catching some lunch if you don't mind? ” She cast a longing glance down the stairs. “I can't believe this is all mine...” Her voice was soft and she turned back to him, embracing him tightly. “And so are you.”

Gently, he stroked his hand down her hair and pressed a kiss to her head.

“I'm so happy.” Her fingers clenched in his frock coat as she buried her nose in the fringe of his scarf.

As am I.

“Alright, Snape, this is the poor bugger, ” Healer Burnden said, opening the door. Severus passed through the quarantine ward, feeling it tingle over his skin. His boots, wet with rainwater, squeaked on the clean floor. The Healer looked smug. “See? Total mystery. Must be a new something or other.”

Bloody half-wit, always trying to make a name...

Frowning, Severus ignored the offered chart, moving closer to the teen on the bed. He did better to make his own decisions, and this one was indeed curious. The boy was struggling to breathe by the look it, his face swollen. His skin was strange as well – as if made from feather and stone.

A theory niggled at his mind and he looked for evidence to support it, turning out the boy's pockets. Burnden and Smythe squawked in dismay, but he pointedly ignored them. Ah, I was right. Severus plucked the wrapper from the pocket and flicked his wand at the boy on the bed, trying to unravel which spells had been cast.

An interesting combination. Sensical, but interesting to unravel. Severus straightened and transfigured a blackboard from the water pitcher. He's allergic to one of the ingredients in the Weasley's Canary Creams, he wrote. Someone attempted to help him with an Anapneo and someone cast a Petrificus mid-transformation. An antihistamine injection of the Muggle variety will reduce the swelling and ease the breathing. Once he can swallow, give him the antidote for Canary Creams, then reverse the Petrification.

Severus didn't add that whoever had cast the Petrificus had likely saved the boy's life. While the airway had been cleared, the petrification had stopped the swelling, allowing the frozen teen to keep breathing.

Smythe looked dismayed. “Damn. I didn't even realise.”

His lip curled into a sneer. Of course you didn't, you're an imbecile. Engage what little brains you have and stop seeking complicated things no one has ever heard of and start looking at the signs you can recognise. But for Merlin's sake confirm it before you start treating one part of the whole. If you had lifted the petrification first you would have killed him.

The healers looked shocked, shaking their heads as Severus left in a flare of his cloak. He retrieved his mobile at the end of the hall and sent a message to Hermione. Perhaps she'd like to join him for lunch. After all, there was that tea place they'd enjoyed a few times and he wasn't expected back at the lab for a while yet

“Wait until you see it, Gin! ” He could hear Hermione from the front hallway – she must be using the Floo. “Mum insisted she buy it, and it's perfect! I never thought I'd be so excited about a bloody dress.”

“Tell me! ”

“Well, it's a-line, of course, with something called a sweetheart neckline.” Severus hung his frock coat in the closet, shooing Nothing away so he could unlace his boots without tracking mud through the house. The half-kneazle batted at the laces despite his best efforts, claws bared and tiny teeth showing. With a sigh, he set to work on the other dragonhide boot as the witch's conversation continued.

“Mrs. Malfoy came with Mum and I, and she answered a lot of my questions, and had some great suggestions for the dress. It's got these little buttons up the back that make me feel like a lady.” Hermione laughed. “Now I know why Severus likes them so much.”

“Are you making changes? I know it's a Muggle gown, ” Ginevra said, her tone questioning.

“I'm having the color tweaked a bit, ” Hermione admitted. “It's a white lace over a color they call 'champagne', but Mum says it washes me out so I'll be changing it at Madame Malkins, and adding a few crystals to the lace.”

“Are you wearing a veil? ”

“No, too much of a hassle with my hair.” Severus bent to pick up Nothing, but the damn beast dodged him and scampered into the sitting room. “The train? It's called a sweep train. Sorry, Gin, I don't really know what the differences are.”

Ginevra laughed.

“I'll have you join me for the fitting at Madame Malkins next week – I should go before Severus gets home, I don't want to spoil anything.”

Noted, he thought dryly. Don't let her know I've overheard.

“Let me know when the appointment is – just send a text to my mobile. I think it's in the kitchen.”

“Sure. I hope we don't get tailed by reporters. They followed us until they realised it was a Muggle shop. Morons.”

The girls exchanged goodbyes and he heard the Floo disconnect with the soft whoosh. “Nothing! No, bad kitty, don't attack my hair! Damn it, cat... Come here.”

Nothing mewed, and Hermione cooed, clearly playing with the little bastard. Severus quietly reopened the front door, closing it again firmly, and kicked his boots with a thunk. She gasped playfully. “Severus is home! Let's go say hi! ”

She padded around the corner, smiling and carrying Nothing in the cradle of her arm while he batted at a dangling curl. “Well? How did it go? ” Nothing squirmed, and she let the half-kneazle leap to the floor. “Is it ours? ”

It is, he replied. She squealed, throwing her arms around him.

“We have a house! We have a house! ” He grinned despite himself. They had a new home, Hermione's business was well underway if the piles of parchments on her desk was any indication, and their wedding was a scant two months away.

Notes:

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter – two more to go!! See you next time!

Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Summary:

And so comes their wedding day.

Notes:

After this chapter, all we have left is the epilogue, which is fully written. I'm sad to see this ending, but I've loved writing it. Thank you all so much for reading, for your favorites and follows and reviews. It means the world to me.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

You must be joking, he spelled slowly once he'd opened the door.

Harry grinned. “Afraid not. You're getting married tomorrow, and that means you get dragged into frivolity.” He glowered at the men on the front step of the house he and Hermione had lived in for a mere month, doing his best to tower over them. “Come on now, that doesn't work on us anymore. I promise it'll be something you'll enjoy.”

Draco shuffled uncomfortably. “Look, the sooner we get done the sooner I can get away from Potter. Don't make us force our way in.”

As if they could! He thought dryly, unbudging.

“Besides, ” Harry continued with that idiotic grin still in place, “Gin's already kidnapped Hermione for a girl's night, so I'm afraid you're stuck with us.”

No.

Harry sighed. “Hermione sort of had the idea, so you're letting us in for this, even if I have to go get Ron and Neville to help – and really, do you want them in your lab? - and if they can't get us in, I'll go get more people to help. Get the idea? ”

Blackmailed by a Potter.... Glaring, he moved aside. He let them bump into the wards before lifting them briefly with a smug smirk.

“Very funny, ” Draco muttered.

Explain, he spelled for Harry once the other man had shucked his shoes off. The acrid odor assailed his nostrils - Merlin's pants, didn't he ever wash his socks? Severus shot a deodorising charm at both the socks and the shoes, uncaring which was the culprit.

“Your fiancee had run across a potion while she was shelving some of your books, and she mentioned it to Mother, ” Draco said once Harry had translated. “Mother, of course, brought it to my attention, and I dismissed it. Unfortunately for both of us, she also mentioned it to Potter, who was rather insistent.”

“By which he means that I threatened to force-feed him one of the Wheeze's chocolates unless he would tolerate me for the duration of the evening.” Harry showed Severus the chocolate in question before shoving it back in his pocket. “Hermione actually shoved the book at me with a bit of a glare until I agreed to act, so I stopped by and convinced him to help out.”

“I didn't think you'd appreciate him doing any brewing, ” Draco added, staying as physically far from Harry as possible in the enclosed space. “It's the one with that complicated Sanskrit name in volume seven of Worldwide Potions.”

Feeling a headache coming on – he had been looking forward to a quiet evening – and praying for sanity, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose tightly for several seconds. When the fantasies of strangling Harry Potter while Draco cheered him on followed by killing the aforementioned blond abated, he sighed in defeat.

Fine. Anything to get rid of them. Shoes on, Harry. My lab, my rules. Harry grumbled but complied, and Severus stowed Nothing in the kitchen once he had assured himself that the mangy beast had both food and water. He hadn't yet had a chance to ward the lab to keep him out.

The two tussled briefly over who would go first, but Severus merely rolled his eyes and kept walking. There would be no grand tour. The house was a mess with the exception of the few necessary rooms (library, bedroom, laboratory, bath, and kitchen, in that order), and they hadn't been planning on company until well after the honeymoon.

The lab itself was clean, gleaming worktables and dust-free ingredient shelving that he'd taken great pride in assembling. Construction magic had never been one of his strong points, but the instructions had been clear enough to follow without any need for concern. Draco let out an appreciative sound. Severus smirked. He was proud of his lab. He finally had a private proper one that didn't have Headmasters or freckled Weasleys puttering in and out.

Severus put his hand out for the recipe and Harry handed the book reluctantly over. The marker was a familiar Muggle one, hefty card stock with a kitten on it with a tassel he'd seen Hermione use on a daily basis. The notion that she'd found this and risked his ire by lending the tome to Harry Potter of all people was oddly touching – she knew how much he'd hated that the boy had had his old book, after all.

Ignoring Harry and Draco, Severus began retrieving the necessary items. He chose an old battered pewter cauldron – Hermione's Hogwarts cauldron, which she'd kept for purely nostalgic reasons. The potion would be more powerful with things that he or Hermione were sentimental about, so he selected the purified wooden stirring rod she'd gifted to him rather than a glass one as called for.

At Draco's behest he unlocked the storage closet, letting the blond pull ingredients. He trusted Draco to know what was best. Then again, like hell he'd store let alone purchase inferior ingredients. Harry wisely stayed out of the way, perched on one of the stools, so Severus made him hold the book – carefully.

“Says you'll need each of your hairs -” Severus nodded, “ - and blood. Hermione gave me a few drops in a vial, so we'll just need yours.” Harry grinned. “Got a knife? ”

Severus gave him an impatient look, annoyed, motioned for him to sit, stay, and wait before striding from the laboratory. True to form he was halfway up the stairs when he heard the boy hurrying after him. He spun on his heel at the landing with a snarl, but the messy-haired wizard held up both hands placatingly.

“Just going to ask real quick – those potions you brewed for Gin before, would you be willing to do it again? She's only got a week's worth of the ones St. Mungo's prescribed left and I trust yours more than theirs.”

Oh for Merlin's sake...Damn Weasley genes. Wearily, Severus nodded.

Harry beamed at him. “Thanks! Ginny's going to ask 'Mione to be godmother.” His grin turned sly. “So you'll just have to be godfather. See you when you come back down.”

The boy ran before Severus could react. ...He's gone mad. He has to have. Severus made a mental note to discuss Harry's impending dementia with Hermione as he trekked up the stairs and into the airy master bedroom to pluck some of Hermione's hairs from her brush. He liked their house a great deal, and Hermione had quite enjoyed arguing with him about colors and the like. Not that he'd really disagreed with her 'artistic views' on how to decorate the bloody house, he just liked to rile her... and she was well aware of it. The memory of some of her absurd 'ideas' made him smile, fortifying him before he made his way back down the stairs.

“Potter, no, stop it – they need to be diced, not chopped! If you ruin this potion, scar-head...” Oh, damn it, they were already bickering.

“This is diced, Ferret, ” Harry shot back.

Severus kicked the lab door open with a bang, making both boys jump and Draco dropped his wand. To expedite things, he Summoned Harry's as well as his godson's and stood by the boxes of book-scented candles he'd made for the reception, glowering at them both.

Both boys withered under his glare, though Draco lasted a bit longer than Harry before they sulkily resumed work.

“Fine, I'll go smaller, ” Harry muttered.

Resigning himself to playing babysitter, Severus stowed both wands in the stirring rod drawer before moving to the front of the lab. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching them both work, occasionally moving to correct one of them. If they were going to act like schoolchildren, he'd just bloody well have to treat them like schoolchildren.

Finally, they moved from preparation to brewing and Severus relaxed. Draco was an accomplished enough Potioneer to keep Harry from buggering things up, and if Harry needed prenatal potions for his wife, he'd best start on that since he wouldn't have time to do so during his honeymoon. Or rather, he hoped he wouldn't have time.

The potion was finished, and as far as he could tell, it had been brewed properly. During the process, the two had started telling stories about both of them, to Severus's amused embarrassment. He hadn't known that Draco had recalled the mishap with the broom and Lucius's formerly-ornate fountain, or the tea that Severus had spent sneaking Draco biscuits under the lace tablecloth when Narcissa wasn't looking. Harry had ended up telling stories about Hermione – like when she'd dragged Harry shopping to pick out Archimedes, the owl she'd given him. Or the time he and Ronald had gotten her drunk and she'd (badly) sung oldies into her wine glass.

It made him smile, listening to the tales. He'd known some of them, like Hermione popping Draco squarely in the nose – hell, he'd seen it, and thought it had been well-deserved at the time. He did remember the story of him taking Draco to buy his first broom with Lucius was busy, and the subsequent need to repair the boy's arm when he also suffered his first fall. It was necessary for the potion, of course, for them to regale each other. Draco told Harry about Hermione going over for tea (and, surprisingly, admitting he'd been out of line). Harry told Draco about Severus calling Narcissa in for wedding robes. They'd both laughed at that, which amused Severus.

Overall, he was pleased with how the potion looked, shimmering pearlescent pale-blue in the battered cauldron. Draco took a deep breath. “Does it look right to you, Severus? ”

He nodded.

“Great, ” Harry replied. “Well, here goes nothing. Got the ring? ”

“Of course, ” Draco retorted irritably. Severus had never had the opportunity to see this brew in action before and watched with interest. According to the text, it would imbue any ring with properties similar to those of goblin-inscribed runes. He would gladly have had runes on his ring if it wouldn't have interfered with half of his ingredients, and Hermione had known he would dislike removing his ring constantly because he'd forget to either replace it or take it off... In short, his witch was incredible.

Draco carefully lowered Severus's ring into the potion and held it there for precisely fourteen seconds before lifting it as Severus watched out of the corner of his eye. Harry peered at the platinum – the most nonreactive metal, thank Merlin – band glistened in the light before the excess potion ran off. “I believe it worked. Care to check? ”

Severus held up his hand, counting stirs for the last prenatal potion Harry had requested. To their credit, neither boy interrupted him, allowing him to finish and set the potion aside to cool and cure before holding his hand out for the ring. It certainly seemed right, and looked the same. He could feel the magic in the ring, the same he'd felt from the runes he'd had done on Hermione's band.

For the final test he retrieved a handful of selkie scales, which tended to react poorly when handled with magical objects, and touched the band against them. They didn't shrivel or turn to powder, and he smirked at Draco and Harry in triumph before returning the scales to their rightful place.

“Excellent! ” Harry actually patted Draco on the back, who stiffened but surprisingly didn't move away. “Well. Now what? ”

Upstairs, Severus spelled slowly. He'd tidy the lab once they had left, which wouldn't be until after the prenatal potions were ready for bottling. Apparently, he was going to be stuck entertaining them a while longer.

“Fancy a game of chess? ” Draco asked, looking back at Severus. He nodded.

“I'll play winner, ” Harry offered with a shrug. “I'm not the best but I'm not shite, either.”

Well, it's one way to pass the evening.

The living room was still cluttered with boxes and it had taken him a moment of searching to locate the chess set. He'd been debating keeping it in the office or the sitting room, knowing that sooner or later Minerva would stop over and that while he enjoyed playing against her he didn't want to disturb Hermione if she was working at her desk. Minerva tended to be a little exuberant when she started losing. If only her students knew just how foul-mouthed the witch could be.

Severus traced his upper lip, contemplating his first move against Draco. Lucius had taught the boy to play, and he remembered just how ruthless those games could be. He eyed the white pawn in the middle of the board, shifting on his chair as he debated, before seizing his knight. May as well jump right in.

Hours later and still nursing the glass of wine that had been foisted upon him, Severus watched Draco and Harry play. Draco was a better player, but Harry tended to go on instinct to 'save' whichever piece was in trouble, often making Draco, who didn't consider putting a rook in jeopardy over a pawn as a worthy move, delay longer as he looked over the board for traps. As a result, the blond was often thrown off. It was entertaining, to say the least.

As neither he nor Draco were prone to idle chatter, causing Harry to fall silent as well, the quiet of the evening had given him a great deal of time to contemplate the past few years. If he had been told upon his waking in St. Mungo's that he would have fallen in love, let alone be happy, he would likely have hexed the cretin with the audacity to speak such ludicrous words to him.

But he was. Happy, that is. It had been the strangest thing to realise. He'd gone from greasy and anti-social with the occasional snarling matching with Minerva or Albus to most hated wizard in England (he was fairly certain that being forced into the role of Headmaster had won him that title, since the Dark Lord had more or less been a ghoulish figure in nightmares and nothing more) to Severus Snape, hero. Oh, he was still greasy, no amount of shampoo would fix that despite several attempts, and he would never be – and he sneered at the mental phrase – a social butterfly, that much was certain.

In the past few years he'd relearned to speak. He no longer had a perpetual scowl or a careful mask of impassivity. He had to display his emotions to be understood if someone he was speaking to didn't have a good grasp of sign language or if they had to read his written answers and he didn't wish for his tone to be misconstrued.

Draco smirked and advanced, neatly capturing Harry's rook.

Perhaps it was Hermione's fault – treating him like a normal person with her astute grasp of what he meant and allowing him into her heart the way she had. Without her presence in his life, Severus very much doubted that he would have attempted to polish up Spinner's End and eventually move, that he would have been as open as he had been with George or become sort-of friends with Harry. He would probably be sitting in his dark and miserable house being occasionally talked at by Minerva or Narcissa, spending his days alone at Wheezes or hating his life.

Harry took one of Draco's bishops and the blond cursed, pulling his queen out of harm's way.

Instead... he'd allowed himself to have a bloody child's birthday party. It was likely Hermione's way of showing him he could have everything, and he wouldn't put it past the clever witch to do it to make him think of the future with their children, either. He had 'parents' who cared for him. He had a better friendship with his previous acquaintances, and he seemed to have made friends of another sort. It was maddening, trying to compare his old life with his new one. He was still a grouchy arse and prone to unkind thoughts and actions, but he was... changed. Not so changed he couldn't recognise himself or the man he was, just simply changed.

He glanced at the small box containing the band he'd be wearing after tomorrow, remembering the shimmer of magic the two men sitting across from men had infused it with. He was changed. And that was good.

Alone, Severus stretched out on his side of their bed. He missed her, much more than he should have done. The sheets were cool against his skin, slowly warming, but not enough. How long had it been since he had slept without her?

No witch pillowing her head on his narrow chest, putting his arm to sleep. No mad hair fluffing over their pillows and finding its way into his mouth. No fingers caressing the fine hairs dusting his skin, no lips pressing kisses to his flesh.

Sighing, he turned over and groped in the darkness for his mobile off his bedside table. The light from the screen nearly blinded him, and he scowling, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted and he was able to send her a message.

“Goodnight, Hermione. Until tomorrow.”

Scant minutes after he'd sent it, his mobile vibrated with Hermione's reply text. “Good night, Severus. I love you too. See you tomorrow afternoon! ”

He stared at the screen for a moment, burning her words into his brain and feeling distinctly vexed for apparently being unable to part from her for a single evening. Closing the mobile, he replaced it on the table and rolled onto his other side, facing the empty expanse of the bed.

For several moments he lay there, unable to sleep. Finally, he scowled and grasped her pillow, pulling it against him and burying his nose in it. The lingering scent of her soothed him and he closed his eyes, willing sleep to claim him.

Anxious, Severus paced in the small room he had been told to stay in under any circumstance until it was time. His jacket and vest hung neatly on the plastic hangers, mocking him. He'd taken the liberty of weaving Cooling Charms through the fabric. No sense in sweating himself into dehydration. If he passed out he'd never hear the end of it and he'd like to avoid such a thing.

Someone rapped on the door and he ceased his relentless pacing to yank it open. George stood on the other side, glaring at him. He couldn't help it – his lips twitched. Severus admitted him to the room and shut the door, picking up the note cards he'd prepared.

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