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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 25
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- 27
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"

Chapter Twenty-Six
“Beauty Is Only Potions Deep"

Disclaimer: Let's all thank Miss Rowling for allowing us all to play with her characters and not suing our pants off for engaging in our little fanfic writing habits… so long as we make the proper disclaimers that she owns it all and we don't make any money off of it.

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Saturday couldn't come soon enough for Hermione. Friday had been filled with one unpleasant situation after another.

Madam Dushka was waiting for Hermione in her office to notify her that her yearly performance review was coming up, and a large part of that depended on how quickly the junior witch could train Trevor Spawn in his new position as Potions Ingredient Tester. Friday morning was one rush job after another, ordered personally by Madam Dushka for certain apothecaries that had connections within the Ministry, as there had only been one Potions tester alive and working during the week. Friday day turned into Friday night, with Hermione still at work finishing up some last-minute jobs for Madam Dushka. By the time the weary witch stumbled home and out of her fireplace, exhausted and reeking like the dragon dung she tested just before heading home, she did not have the strength to bother eating dinner, much less cook dinner. Hermione forced herself to take a shower before collapsing into bed.

Sleep that night was also a nightmare in and of itself. Twice she woke up to find the bed squeaking and gently rocking, only to realize it was Ron wanking in the middle of the night. Hermione laid there in the dark pretending to be asleep, listening as Ron breathed as quietly as possible while his hand stroked his own flesh and thumped against his loins.

The second time she woke up to his masturbating again a few hours later, she opened her eyes and surreptitiously watched him in the dark. The moon, in its last quarter, shone through the window, faintly illuminating her husband’s profile. His flat, pale, hairless chest looked ghostly blue as it rose and fell quickly with each restrained gasping breath; while one of his long arms moved quickly, his free hand cupped his sac. Ron's eyes were shut tight, as his mouth hung slightly open from panting. When he came, his body tensed for a moment as he hissed, his mouth forming soundless words Hermione could not make out.

Ron went to the bathroom to clean up, giving Hermione a chance to roll over while not alerting him to her wakeful state. When he climbed back into bed, she felt the bed dip and heard the springs creak. As much as Hermione did not want to have sex with her husband, still being angry with him, she did miss the casual contact that they once had. Since Marge’s funeral, Ron hadn't touched her once. She missed the physical contact of her friend and husband: a small hug here, a stroke of the back there, a playful pat on the arse. From the cold disposition he now directed towards his wife when they were both awake and in each other's company, she wasn't about to make the first move and touch him, as she felt it would not be welcome.

When Saturday morning came, Hermione woke to find Ron had already left early for the Quidditch game. The witch was guilty with relief that she wouldn't have to face him that morning, and she could just get ready without having to deal with another outburst or his hostile glare.

Once she had eaten a simple breakfast of toast and tea, Hermione dressed and Apparated over to Harry and Ginny's home. Harry gave his wife a quick buss on the lips before the two witches Flooed over to Diagon Alley. They wanted to do some shopping before going to Madam Hope's Eternal Springs and Day Spa.

The witches went to their own vaults at Gringotts separately instead of joining the other, keeping the stomach churning cart rides down to a minimum.

As Hermione stepped into her and Ron's vault, she noticed the pile of coins was quite a bit larger than she expected. Instead of the twenty-five odd extra Galleons she was expecting from her frugal breakfasts and lunches – and the forfeit of Calleo's fees – there were a couple hundred extra Galleons she could not account for. Mrs. Weasley had always been very good in accounting for every Galleon she and Ron spent, keeping the household budget in check with their meager salaries, but there was quite a bit more than she expected. Wondering if some of it was due to Ron's new temporary position as starting Keeper for the Chudley Cannons, the thrifty witch took only what she calculated she had saved herself, plus expected expenses for the next month and rent.

Strolling along Diagon Alley, Hermione’s eyes began catching items displayed in the windows that she had never before noticed. Now that she had a little money to spare, purchases that she had denied herself or put off came to the forefront of her mind. Flourish and Blotts had the latest selection of Charms and Alchemy books in the window. Ginny had to bodily drag Hermione away from the front window, joking that the older witch left slobber marks and nose prints on the glass. The stationery shop next door was still yet another temptation to browse and possibly spend her steadfastly scrimped pile of money. Another yank of Hermione's arm from her redheaded friend, and the two were finally ambling along the crowded thoroughfare for some clothes shopping.

Hermione was ready to pass by Madam Malkin's and head to the second-hand robe shop, but Ginny cajoled Hermione into the slightly pricier establishment. She hadn't been into Madam Malkin's to buy new robes since just before the beginning of her seventh year at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley immediately started looking at the clearance rack for deeply discounted clothes. The only thing that inhabited that dark corner toward the back were robes and cloaks in the most horrendous colors, including neon chartreuse, a rather sickly muted-pastel blue, an ungodly violent fuchsia, baby shit green, and dirty mustard.

Picking up the mustard-colored robe, Hermione held it to her face, wincing at how the color made her skin look green in the mirror.

"That is definitely not your color, young lady," lectured the enchanted glass, her own reflection chucking the offending garment over her shoulder.

"Put that back," came Ginny's voice drifting over the rack. "You will not buy that. Come here, I've picked something out for you."

Hermione reluctantly emerged from the clearance section empty-handed to see Ginny holding up a simple yet elegantly cut robe in royal sapphire blue, and another one cut with a slightly higher waistline in royal purple.

"Ginny, I can't buy those!" Hermione protested.

"Why not?" Mrs. Potter countered.

"Well… well… those colors are just so… strong," Hermione explained.

"Hermione… dear… if you buy another outfit in one of those safe, dingy colors that make your skin look pasty, I swear I'll Incendio the thing before we even get out of the store," Hermione's friend threatened with a sincere smile that said she would indeed do such a thing. "These are your colors. You should be wearing jewel tones: emerald green, ruby red, sapphire blue, and royal purple. With your coloring, these will look fabulous on you. Trust me."

"I don't know. I don't think these will go with anything I own," Hermione said, trying to talk her friend out of making her try them on. If anything, she was afraid if she tried them on, Ginny would be right and Hermione would be tempted to buy them both.

"Just try them on. No one is twisting your arm to buy them. Just to see if the color does look good on you," Ginny pleaded with a hopeful expression. "If the color looks good on you, you can always buy a few tops and skirts later on to go with them. Besides, black, white and dark grays will always go with it, and you have a few of those colors in your wardrobe."

The older witch frowned, knowing that once they were on her back, she would most definitely be leaving the store with at least one of them. She was too afraid to look at the price tag for fear she couldn't afford even one.

Ginny cocked her head and said, "Listen, I'll make a bargain with you. Try them on and if you like both, you buy one, I'll buy you the other."

"No, Ginny. I couldn't." The brunette shook her head.

The younger witch made a counter offer. "How about if we make it an early birthday present? Hmmm?"

Thinking for a moment, Hermione reluctantly agreed. "All right."

As the royal purple robe slipped over her shoulders, Ginny let out a small gasp of glee as her eyes lit up.

"Oh, that is definitely a good color on you. Your skin looks great with that on," Ginny enthusiastically declared.

Hermione turned around and looked at herself in the mirror, trying to find something of fault with the color, but couldn't. It was a fabulous color on her, just as Ginny professed; however, it was one size too large. Just as she was about to tell Ginny about it being too big, Madam Malkin came up to the pair of shoppers.

"Is there anything I can help you two ladies with?" Madam Malkin said, looking at Ginny and not Hermione, as Mrs. Potter’s clothes showed she was the one with money to spend.

Mrs. Potter stuck her nose up in the air haughtily. "Yes, my friend here needs this on a smaller size. The color is perfect. Go fetch it, please." Ginny was doing a rather good imitation of Narcissa Malfoy, from what Hermione could remember of meeting the woman, including the little dismissive wave of the hand.

"Right away, Mrs. Potter," the store owner simpered before scurrying away to get the right size.

"That was rather snobbish of you, Ginny," Hermione stated, dumbstruck by her friend’s sudden attitude. "I'm surprised you would behave that way."

Ginny stepped forward conspiratorially. "Let me tell you a little something Draco taught me,” she whispered. “In certain shops, when you act like a rich bitch with piles of money to spend, the sales staff will help you and even go out of their way to make a sale. If you act like a decent human being, they don’t think you have the Galleons to spend and you will not get what you really want, because they won't fetch it for you out of the back, and so you wind up buying something you don't want instead."

Mrs. Weasley frowned at this arrogant attitude towards sales staff, but secretly wondered if there was some merit to this idea, as she had the hardest time getting the sales staff of some stores to help her.

Leaning forward even further, Ginny whispered, "I hate acting like a snob, but even when I married Harry and finally had the money to buy nice clothes, I couldn't get the sales staff to get me what I wanted. Once Draco taught me that little trick, I've never had a problem finding exactly what I want here."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in shock over that particular revelation, surprised that behaving normally towards a salesperson would result in getting snubbed and ignored. She highly doubted she could ever act that way to another person, even if it was to get the right-sized robes in the right color.

Madam Malkin came bursting out of the back room with an armful of robes in different styles, all in the same royal purple. "While I was back there, I saw these other styles in the same color. Would you care to try these on?"

Stunned, Hermione began trying on the dozen or so different robes before picking one that flattered her figure to the fullest.

"Good!" Mrs. Potter said with some finality. "Now go find us what you can in this color," Ginny's evil twin ordered Madam Malkin while holding up the royal sapphire blue robe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday couldn't come soon enough for Severus. Friday had been filled with one unpleasant situation after another.

His weekly parole meeting consisted of the usual question followed by a new mandatory procedure that required Shacklebolt to perform a Prior Incantato, to determine which spells Severus and Draco had cast during the past week. The Auror regretfully informed them that he would have to do that every week as part of a new measure in the aftermath of Dolohov's attack.

Dolohov's violent behavior resulted from a lingering frustration and growing resentment over having such limited powers, including his restrictive and demeaning job prospects, the inability to have a Floo connection at his place of residence, and the revoking of his Apparating license, among many other things. Severus had warned Shacklebolt that this sort of thing might happen when the Death Eater Decree first came out. However, this was the first incident where a rogue Death Eater was captured and questioned before being sent off to Azkaban; previously caught Death Eaters had been subdued and hexed by Aurors to the point where they could not answer questions coherently enough.

Miss Brown was in a perpetually foul mood all day Friday, snapping at Severus, to which he snapped back with equal irritation. He was so vexed that he didn’t get around to asking Miss Brown about her reason for starting this new line of sex Potions, and if it had anything to do with the price of Ashwinder eggs.

Friday night was spent late at the office dealing with a slew of owls addressed to Sebastian Delgado. One was from the British Potions Hobbyist League, a rather selective and elitist group of pretentious, thieving, sycophantic imbeciles he ever had the pleasure of refusing to join. The only reason they met and invited new members was to try to ensnare some unsuspecting Potions master or mistress into the group in order to get the person to talk about some new and experimental potion he or she was working on; they would then steal it and claim it for their own before the duped victim had time to publish the new potion as their own.

Severus was tempted to send a very pointed, but polite, refusal of their “kind offer” using a parchment infused with a rather nasty itching powder; he had developed this parchment during his apprenticeship years ago with hopes of sending letters to James Potter and Sirius Black. The Potions master never had the chance to test it on anyone, but he calculated the end result would be the affected person clawing the top layer of skin off most of their body before the potion wore off. Of course, he had also developed an antidote, but only did so in case of some unusual accident where he himself was exposed to it.

As Severus' research notes on the itching powder were buried somewhere among his many notebooks, he set fire to the invitation with an Incendio instead. The other letters he received were offers for Mr. Delgado to come work for other Potion manufacturing firms, as Miss Brown always gave Severus' nom de guerre as her firm’s consulting Potions master. Each letter was cast into the rubbish bin after being torn in half. What galled him more was the fact that with the name Severus Snape, he couldn't get himself a job with Potions with the legal restrictions; but with some made-up name and a few vague and unreliable references, and with word of mouth, he could command more respect and money than under his own name. He told himself it didn't matter, as he hoped that in less than a year he would be somewhere else, where his past – his one colossal mistake as a youth – would not be a hindrance to him anymore.

Saturday morning dawned. Severus set Marf out for the weekly shopping run, including a few particular items for next Thursday night's dinner with Hermione. After the elf was on his way, Severus grabbed his cloak and went to knock up Draco before heading off to the Lovely Lavender's headquarters.

Once inside the building, they picked up the latest test batch of potions, creams, lotions and assorted bottled beauty products they would be testing that day before Flooing over to the spa. There were a few new items Severus and Lavender believed they had finally perfected within the past month, but many of them were new and improved versions of existing products already on the market.

As much as Severus hating testing beauty products, he knew that part and parcel of being a Potions master was to test them on oneself before distributing to others. It was part of a Potions masters' equivalent to the Hippocratic oath. Draco, as part of the job of marketing, sales and advertising, tested the products with Severus once a month at a spa in which Miss Brown was a silent but substantial partner. The public was told that the men's side of the spa was closed down for monthly maintenance, while Draco and Severus would have the whole "men only" part of the spa to themselves in which to try products and relax all day long. Mr. Malfoy didn't mind having first crack at the new beauty products, and using them gave him insight into how to market and promote them.

They both realized the irony that Severus, who had been called many derogatory names regarding his unique and striking looks, was the creator behind forty percent of the beauty potions on the market.

As Severus and Draco exited the fireplace into the men’s lobby of Madam Hope's Eternal Spring and Day Spa, the only one to greet them was a house-elf. Only the house-elves were aware of the two ex-Death Eaters frequenting the spa once a month. As a large and silent partner, Miss Brown demanded that no one except the house-elves were to be on the men's side during the once-a-month closure, claiming that she needed to have her specialists test products without being disturbed by anyone. And as Miss Brown was in part the house-elves’ employer, they were sworn to secrecy regarding the two notorious wizards who came to the spa. Lavender claimed to her spa partners, who did not know the identity of these specialists, that it was to keep company trade secrets and guarantee products were not copied and brought to market before being launched by The Lovely Lavender Company. They agreed to her terms on the condition that she sell her products to the spa at slightly below wholesale costs.

The two wizards strode past the reception desk, down the hall and to the dressing room area.

As they undressed in their own private dressing rooms – large cubicles separated by Byzantine tapestries with chaise lounges and floor-length mirrors – they talked over the cloth dividers.

"Have you decided on a name for the latest cologne I developed?" Severus asked while unbuttoning his trousers.

Draco, in his own dressing room next door, answered, "Not yet. I want to get some feedback from you as to what your clients have said about it before I narrow down my list of possible names." The clink of his cuff links into a small vanity bowl rang like a bell, filling the momentary silence.

"Most of my clients haven't said much but to compliment me on my cologne. 'Oh, that smells nice,' but nothing beyond that." Severus hung his clothes on the enchanted valet station that would present him with clean pressed clothes at the end of his visit. "However, one client did say that the cologne on me smelled a bit hedonistic. She even commented that the scent of it had haunted her memory from the first time she smelled it on me."

Draco wrapped a towel around his waist and threw another exquisitely plush white one over his shoulder. "Oh! That gives me ideas! I like that." Pushing the curtain aside, he stepped out onto the cool tile floor.

Severus emerged a few seconds later covered in the same manner.

With a dramatic sweep of his hand in the air, Draco said in his best wireless announcer's voice, "'Haunt, the scent of you will haunt her.' I like that very much, a lot of potential there. Which client of yours said that?"

Averting his eyes and the question, Severus looked at the basket containing the several products that needed testing. "I suggest we start with the facial products, as using them after the sauna and steam room will affect the results."

"Fair enough," Draco agreed. "You still didn't answer my question. Who said that your cologne haunted her?"

"Hermione Weasley," Severus answered, trying not to grit his teeth in expectation of the slew of comments Draco could throw his way. When no snide quip came his way, Severus looked at Draco to see him looking at him oddly and with one brow cocked. "Don't. Just don't," Severus added tersely with narrowed eyes.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Draco replied coolly, his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"She's the reason why I knew the cologne was a success. She was able to correctly identify the exact same scents Miss Brown identified when I wore it." In order to deflect more irksome questions about Hermione, Severus redirected the conversation. "You never did tell me what scents Ginny and Lavender detected when you wore it."

"A mixture of spice and cedar with amber, musk and Chypre, with hints of citrus, cumin and basil."

"Musk?" Severus asked to confirm.

"Yes."

"Interesting," Severus mused aloud. "Hermione mentioned smelling musk as well. I suppose since it is a natural male scent, it would only be amplified by the cologne."

"Well, Ginny technically did not say she smelled those particular scents, but I did have a sample of the individual scents for her to smell to decide if they were indeed the scents she identified," Draco elaborated.

"Hermione was able to name every single scent that Miss Brown identified on me. The witch really has a remarkable nose. Those years testing Potion ingredients have honed her talent. She has been able to identify every single ingredient in the tea I've brewed during her visits," the dark-haired wizard remarked, restraining anything resembling a smile, remembering Hermione naming a few rare herbs in her tea a few nights ago.

Severus almost mentioned it was becoming a game between Hermione and him, but held his tongue, as Draco was giving him even more pointed looks.

"So she's not quite as annoying as you thought she might be?" Draco asked a little too innocently.

Severus picked up the basket of test potions and did his best not to stomp off to the treatment rooms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione walked into the women's lobby of Madam Hope's Eternal Springs and Day Spa and let out a huge relaxed sigh. She loved it here, and just the atmosphere itself made her feel serenely calm and tranquil.

The spa décor was a mixture of many styles, based mostly on cultures with strong communal bathing traditions. Between the Turkish, Russian, Finnish, Roman, and Japanese styles, the décor was a mish-mash that, though discordant to one another aesthetically, seemed to work together in the way the place was decorated. Styles ranged from the minimal slate and teak shower stalls, to the ornate mosaic swimming pools flanked with marble Corinthian columns, to the gingerbread-detailed Finnish saunas.

Ginny and Hermione both handed over their wands for safekeeping, and to prevent the wood from warping under the extremely warm and damp conditions of the facility. They were then led to the dressing room area by a clinically dressed, yet beautiful witch. Hermione suspected her French accent was fake.

As they undressed, they continued chatting about Harry's upcoming birthday party at the end of the month.

"You know I don't mind throwing Harry a birthday party every year," Ginny said, her voice carrying through the shoji divider between her and Hermione's dressing cubicles. "It's just that I would like to have a birthday party for myself one of these years too. I just feel that throwing another party for myself a couple weeks after Harry's is a bit much," the redhead admitted.

"Well, you could always roll them together," Hermione suggested.

"I mentioned that once. Though Harry agreed to the idea, I could tell he was a bit crushed. I think in his adulthood he's making up for all the horrible birthdays he had growing up with those awful relatives of his. I mean, can you imagine getting a pair of used socks for your birthday, or a piece of tissue, or a wire coat-hanger?!? Just the thought of it makes me want to cry, then go hex the wankers for being such utter rat bastards to him." Ginny gave a short huff. "I really think some of the issues Harry is dealing with are due to those wretched people. Maybe part of the reason why he is so emotionally distant at times is because he was never properly loved as a child."

"It could be that the only way Harry could cope during the war and be successful at Occlumency was to turn his emotions off," the older witch rationalized with some of her own recent personal insight. "Maybe he has to just relearn to relax and let himself feel once more. Speaking of which, how's counseling going?" Hermione inquired, changing the subject to keep her mind off her own emotional numbness that seemed to constantly pervade her state of mind.

Ginny emerged from her cubicle with a towel wrapped around her waist and a second towel draped over her shoulder, her upper torso and breasts exposed. Hermione joined her a second later with her towel securely wrapped around her torso, her modest nature not feeling comfortable walking around half-naked despite using communal showers at Hogwarts for seven years. She wished she had the self-confidence Ginny had with her own body.

"Well," Ginny began, after she looked about and noticed that there were no other patrons around within earshot, "his personal counseling on Monday nights is coming along nicely. There's a lot of survivor's guilt from the war, abandonment issues he's dealing with from not growing up with parents and Sirius dying, then there are his issues with trust. It's a long road, but he's getting there. Thanks you for not mentioning to Ron about Harry's personal counseling and letting us tell him about marriage counseling."

"That wasn't for me to tell Ron, it was for you and Harry to tell him," Hermione said, as she opened the door to the sauna, feeling the wall of heat envelop her. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

The redhead shrugged as if it was no big deal, joining Hermione in the cedar-lined room. "So, marriage counseling is not quite so smooth. A lot of the time Harry and I yell at each other or list off complaints. He mostly complains that I try and fight too much with him and nag him. I tell him if he just actually talked with me, instead of sitting in his study shut up like a clam, I wouldn't be nagging him. It gets rather cyclical in nature, each blaming the other for our own reactions." Ginny sighed deeply as she took the towel from around her waist and placed it on the bench to sit on, and wrapped the other towel around her head to keep her hair up and off of her face and neck.

Hermione finally took off her towel and mirrored Ginny's actions, realizing that she had nothing Ginny hadn’t seen before. "I'm sorry to hear that. It'll get better. It just takes time. So have you picked a theme for Harry's party?" the brunette asked.

"I was thinking of making it like a Muggle camping trip or like a pool party, as Harry bitterly remembers being left out of those trips as a child," Ginny said. "The marriage counselor says it might bring some closure to some of Harry's unfulfilled childhood longings."

"Speaking of which, I keep forgetting to ask you and Harry. Can you give me the name of your marriage counselor? I haven't had the chance to get to the Muggle Alliance for a recommendation." Hermione felt the oppressive heat seep into her bones and her pores open up. A layer of sweat covered her whole body, and it felt wonderful to bask in the heat, even though it was summertime.

"Sure. His name is James Hoover. He has his practice located near Redding. He recently put a Floo connection in a back room and knows how to deal with owl post. He's the uncle of a Ravenclaw who graduated same year as Charlie." Ginny wiped the beads of sweat from her brow so they wouldn't trickle into her eyes. "He charges on a sliding scale."

"Don't a lot of people," Hermione mumbled absentmindedly.

"What?" Ginny asked, pretending not to catch her friend's comment.

"Nothing." Hermione dismissed her own ramblings.

"Did you want to see a counselor regarding Dolohov's attack and Marge's death?" Ginny asked delicately.

"No, not really. I'm dealing with it myself." Hermione's voice brooked no argument that the situation was not up for debate.

"Well, you've always listened to me when I needed to talk about Tom, so if you ever need an ear, just Floo or Apparate over anytime," Ginny kindly offered, having read Severus' owl on Hermione's refusal to discuss the traumatic event. "Speaking of which," Ginny added, "Ron mentioned you weren't home that Thursday night of the attack when he came back."

"He did? When?" Hermione rebuffed, hoping to stall while she thought up a convenient and believable lie, since Ron never asked where she had been.

"Since Harry said you weren't at work during the attack. Where were you?"

Hermione wondered if someone kicked up the heat in the sauna another twenty degrees, as it suddenly felt unbearably hot. "I was just out," Hermione remarked offhandedly. "I think it's time for me to get out." She rose and grabbed her towel, quickly dashing off to the cool plunge pool.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus laid on his back with his hair wrapped up in a towel while a house-elf finished applying an even layer of the All Skin-Type Cleansing, Exfoliating, Purifying, and Toning Mask to his face. He could feel the gentle tingle of the cleansing bubotuber pus and the cool sensation from the tea tree oil. The avocado mixed with the strawberry seeds, in combination with the special seaweed tended by the Bretagne coast merpeople, felt quite pleasant on his skin as it began the exfoliating cycle of the mask.

This batch felt and smelled much more pleasant that the previous batch they tested last month, which had the smell of low tide and made his skin feel filmy after rinsing. A few adjustments, and the mask might be ready to produce and market. The Potions master and Miss Brown had been working on a facial mask that could be used on all skin types for almost a year, and it seemed that they were close to perfection.

"How does this batch feel, Draco?" Severus asked with some concern, as an earlier batch had made Draco break out in an itchy rash that was easily rectified once the yucca extract was removed.

"Much better. No burning sensation… this time," Draco announced from the table next to Severus'.

"How was I to know that you would have an allergic reaction to yucca?" Severus defended himself.

"Considering that I am distantly blood-related to about a fifth of the wizarding population in England alone, it was wise of you to remove that ingredient. The essence of murtlap feels quite nice. Since I do tend to have dry skin, it's quite soothing in fact," Draco observed, his hair wrapped up in a towel to keep it from getting into his face, which was coated with the green goop they were presently testing.

Between Severus' naturally oily skin, Draco's delicate dry skin, and Lavender's combination skin which was prone to hormonal monthly breakouts, the three of them were a sufficient base to see if this latest batch of the mask would indeed work on all skin types.

"So how was dinner with Mrs. Hermione Weasley?" the blond wizard asked as he propped himself up on one elbow, his lower-mid section covered by his towel. He was careful to not smirk, so his mask wouldn't crack during the cleansing phase.

Severus sat up and positioned himself towards the edge of the table he was lying on. "It was acceptable," he replied knowing Draco would be asking his usual questions.

"Acceptable? Why, coming from you, that sounds like a compliment. Next thing you know, you'll be saying she was even charming," Draco ribbed his mentor.

Severus grimaced slightly then stopped himself, as he could feel his mask crack and start to flake away around the corners of his mouth before the mask had even had time to start the purifying phase. "Just what are you getting at?" he asked impatiently.

"Nothing, nothing at all. It just seems that recently on Friday mornings you are in such a good mood… well, better than normal while we are on our way to see Kingsley," Draco commented, ignoring the house-elf who was applying the first coat of a pastel fuchsia to his nails.

"Could it be that each meeting I have with Hermione brings us closer to our freedom?" Severus replied, refuting what Draco was implying.

"Even if she was the Second Coming of Merlin himself, that alone wouldn't make you any more pleasant, or should I say less acerbic in your attitude."

"Just what are you saying?" Severus asked, knowing what his young friend was going to say anyway.

"I think you like meeting with her. You've said yourself that you actually enjoy conversations with her. Coming from you, that's means you are practically smitten with her," Draco proclaimed.

"Nonsense!" the older wizard exclaimed, while keeping his foot still as a house-elf was applying a coat of muted coral polish to his toes.

"Let's see," Draco began as he started listing examples. "You've cooked for her and made comments regarding the state of her health as if you are concerned for her. You even recommended to Ginny that when she mentioned taking Mrs. Weasley shopping, she should encourage her to buy jewel-toned robes, as they would be better colors than the drab darker colors she currently wears. Shall I go on?"

'He's almost as bad as Albus,' Severus silently fumed. 'Possibly worse.' "Firstly and secondly, she hasn't been eating properly, and if you have seen her recently, you could see how positively malnourished she is. What good would it do to have her help us if she winds up in St. Mungo's for starvation? At least if I can feed her once a week, I know she's eating and won't pass out, unlike what Ginny said she did last week. And as for her state of dress, if I see one more dingy worn-out robe on the witch, I shall burn it myself. The only thing missing from her robes to separate them from Lupin's are the patches. At least if she's going to buy something new, it should be something flattering versus the current selection she wears that makes her look anemic and sallow. If I have to look at her all evening, the sight of her should not make me wince." It was a far harsher statement than what Severus truly felt, but he was compelled to overstate facts in order to purge certain ideas out of Draco's head that he didn't want to admit to himself.

"Speaking of making someone wince, that color on you is quite hideous," Draco noted, looking at Severus' toes. "If you are going to test the drying and smudge-proof ability of a nail polish, go with a darker tone like a wine red, not coral."

Severus lifted one foot to examine it and recoiled from the garish color, relieved that no other wizard other than Draco was around to see him wearing nail polish on his toes. He would wear it for a few hours to see if the setting solution with additional Jacaranda dew made it quicker to set and even harder to smudge and chip, thankful it would be coming off during his pedicure later that day.

"Better be careful, Draco, or I'll mention to Miss Brown what a complimentary color that frosted pastel fuchsia is on you. Needless to say, when it comes time to test new temporary hair colors, I will suggest we develop one to match your polish and insist you try some on your precious platinum locks. You just better hope that I consult Miss Brown on the right ratio of vinegar to gelatin, or the color could wind up being permanent. I wonder what Ginny would say if her lover had pink hair. You two would clash together so spectacularly," Severus added with a menacing chuckle that hinted that he would make good on his threat if Draco kept prodding him on the subject of his feelings, or lack thereof, towards Hermione Weasley.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two witches sat listlessly in the steam room, listening to the water hiss and evaporate on the heat charmed rocks. Sweat trickled down Hermione's neck and chest, eventually running down between her breasts and over her stomach.

Glancing over, Hermione said, "I wish I had your body sometimes, Ginny. You've got the curves I always wished I could have. And your hair color is far better than this dark mop I have."

"What? Are you kidding me? You're the lucky one," Ginny whinged. "Everything I buy runs just a touch too long, because I have these big, fat hips that nothing will fit around. And my chest makes it so I have to buy a slightly larger size for tops or I look like some tart with her cleavage all shoved up front, like two ripe melons being presented on a platter. And you can have this color, you're welcome to it. I always wished I had your dark brown color. I've threatened to dye my hair once, and both Harry and Draco said no."

"But you've got these curves that wizards die for," Hermione insisted. "Everything looks so good on you. And besides, I'm tired of my dull, dull dark brown. I was thinking of lightening back to a more golden brown, like when I was a girl."

"Don't you dare dye your hair."

"Isn't that being a bit hypocritical coming from a witch who almost dyed hers?" Hermione said rhetorically.

"Yes," Ginny reluctantly admitted, "but with those new robes, if you lighten your hair, it will lose all the dramatic effect the color has with your hair and skin."

"Well," Hermione said slowly, thinking of the hair lightening kit she bought at the apothecary a week ago, but hadn't got around to using it. "What about just a few shades lighter?"

"No," Ginny said emphatically. "You need your dark chestnut locks to carry off those colors. Lighten your hair and the color will overpower you. Trust me on this."

"All right," the brunette witch reluctantly agreed. "I still wish I had your breasts instead of these sagging things. I don't have much at all, and they still sag. I'm twenty-three years old! They're not supposed to sag for decades!" Hermione complained plaintively.

"You think mine defy gravity on their own without a little help?" Ginny replied.

"You charm yours?" Hermione asked, aghast that witches did such a thing other than to teeth and hair.

"Of course. How else do you think I can wear those strapless dresses to functions without my breasts jiggling about like a blancmange in an earthquake?" the redhead explained. "I've got to control the girls. If you want, I'll teach you the charm. It's really nice to use on hot days when it's too unbearable to wear a bra."

Hermione nodded, enthusiastic over the prospect of learning a new charm, even if it was for vanity.

"I'm just about ready to get out and rinse off before I go for my massage and body scrub. So I'll see you in a few hours," Ginny said as she rose from her seat on the tiled bench.

As Mrs. Potter walked out of the steam room naked without covering herself, Hermione scrutinized Ginny's backside and wondered how the witch could complain about having voluptuous curves like that. At every Ministry function Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny attended together, the older witch saw the way wizards' eyes roved over Mrs. Potter's body as she passed through a room, and she knew no wizard ever ogled at her like that. Even Ron never looked at her with abandoned lust like some wizards did openly at Ginny when Harry was not by her side.

Hermione sat in the steam room for a few more minutes before leaving to rinse off for her own massage.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus was trying the second test batch of improved body polishing scrub on his left arm, comparing it to the first batch he tried on his right arm. Both scrubs seemed to do a good job of removing the dead skin and giving it a healthy glow, but the second batch seemed more abrasive due to the addition of the ground beetle carapaces. On the basis of ten strokes on each arm, the Potions master could tell his left arm was slightly raw, whereas his right arm felt clean without the sting of taking too much skin off. He made a quick mental note before trying a newly improved version of the Valiant Wizard Deep Cleansing Shampoo for Oily Hair. He thought it was fine as is, but Miss Brown wanted to see if she could change it so that it would add more body without drying his hair out. The last thing Severus needed was flyaway hair.

Draco called out over the shower stall divider, "What did you add to the fine hair shampoo formula? It tingles."

"Ah, Miss Brown mentioned that the latest customer survey you did found that wizards with dry hair tend to have dandruff, so this is a version of the Valiant Wizard Fine Hair Shampoo with a dandruff blocker potion I added," Severus shouted back.

"It's not going to do anything funny to my scalp, since Malfoys don't suffer from dandruff, is it?"

"No, but I thought it needed testing to see if you would have a reaction, since your skin is so sensitive to many potions," Severus explained. "What is that term you discovered when you were trolling the Muggle apothecaries once?"

"Hypoallergenic."

"Ah, yes. That's the one. Such a fancy term for potions designed for sensitive skin," Severus mused out loud.

Draco turned off his shower and began drying off as Severus rinsed and repeated. Just as the dark-haired wizard emerged from the shower dripping wet and looking a bit pink in patches all over his body from testing several new products on various body parts, the blond wizard had already dried off and was donning a long, white, plush terry dressing gown.

"Off to meet Ginny?" Severus asked.

"Yes. I love the fact that this spa was rebuilt during the Restoration period, so it was designed with certain… amenities," Draco replied.

"You mean secret doors to rendezvous chambers where nobility would come to have clandestine trysts with lovers and courtesans while their spouses were in other parts of the baths," Severus elaborated.

"Exactly," Draco said with a sly smirk.

"Give Ginny my regards," Severus said as he bid Draco adieu for a few hours.

He was glad the younger wizard would be gone for a few hours in order to give himself a bit of time to expel some of the niggling feelings Draco aroused during his questions regarding Hermione.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione laid on the massage table feeling completely boneless while the masseuse, who looked like she could be a professional Beater for England's Quidditch team, pummeled, ripped apart and reassembled Hermione's muscular structure like a jigsaw puzzle. The only thing Hermione had to tell the witch was that she stood over cauldrons all day long; this told her masseuse exactly where most of the tension was manifesting itself in her mid- and lower-back.

As she drifted in and out of sleep, Hermione wondered if Calleo knew how to give more than just neck and shoulder massages. He seemed to know exactly where to place his hands, with an innate knowledge of where her headache was residing, and knew the right pressure points to address in order to allow her to enjoy the rest of her evening with Calleo.

'Calleo,' she inwardly sighed. Hermione was surprised to see him open the door without his headscarf on, but was thrilled to finally see his locks so she could fill in another missing mental piece of him. 'Black, black hair like a raven's wing. Long enough to run my fingers through it.' She wondered how it would feel as it slipped through her fingers.

Hermione had been attracted to men with dark hair ever since she dated Viktor Krum. His dark thick hair, dark brown eyes and distinguished profile made him look handsome, as opposed to other boys his age who tended to look pretty or cute. There was that crush on Professor Lockhart in her second year, but in light of his ineptitude, she no longer felt drawn towards the blond hair, blue eyes set, preferring a wizard with darker features. Sirius Black, once he cleaned up and no longer looked like a ragged scarecrow, peaked her hormonal interest; but at the time he was so much older than her, and she found it difficult to be attracted to a man she knew was old enough to be her father.

Then there was Professor Snape. The man wore a perpetual scowl on his face, and his unpleasant personality colored her perceptions of him; even to this day she could not recall what he looked like without his sarcastic voice echoing in her head, laying insult upon scathing remark about her bookish behavior or appearance. There were times Hermione wondered if Professor Snape would have loathed her as much if she were a Ravenclaw, or if she weren't a friend of Harry's. She did know that she never knew the man beyond what little he showed of himself, beyond the façade of an unapproachable man. Professor Snape had the dark hair and dark eyes and prominent nose she usually found handsome, but his personality was so offensive to her, she could never find anything attractive about the man.

Now a new man had come into Hermione's life to fuel her sexual fantasies. Calleo had quickly replaced Viktor in her mind, as a sexual object to fixate upon in order to bring herself to orgasm. The memories of Viktor were so old, she could not recall them over the many years of Ron's touch. The memory of Calleo's touch burned brightly into her mind, each time he kissed her hand goodbye, rubbed her shoulders or brushed his hands against her as he helped her with her cloak.

Last Thursday night, as Calleo helped her with her cloak, Hermione had become so aroused that when she got home, she had found her folds slick with viscous desire. She had locked the door to the bedroom and cast a Silencing charm so she could finger-fuck herself into oblivion, imagining it was Calleo's fingers deep inside of her stroking that elusive spot Hermione had heard about, but had never reached; the one her old lunch mates talked about like some great carnal secret. Satisfied with a few small orgasms, she showered and crawled into bed only to hear Ron come home shortly afterwards.

Here she was on the massage table feeling the telltale signs of arousal seeping between her legs while lustful and prurient thoughts of Calleo fucking her with unrestrained passion flitted through her mind. Her heart raced as she visualized herself straddling him naked on the settee, his large, strong hands grabbing her hips and guiding her up and down as she slid up and down his shaft.

Fortunately, Hermione's massage was near the end. Once the masseuse left, Hermione jumped off the table and hurried back to her private dressing room, locking the door. Casting off her long white terry dressing gown, she straddled the chaise lounge and began masturbating herself, using her legs to impale herself repeatedly on her fingers while she rubbed her nipples against the brocade upholstery as she rose and fell. She imagined herself straddling Calleo's body, his chest hair and hands brushing against her breasts, his hands upon her hips guiding her up and down.

As she looked in the mirror placed behind the chaise, she saw herself flushed with desire, which heightened the tingling feeling coiling in her belly. Hermione wondered what it would look like to watch herself ride Calleo like a water nymph rides the swells of the sea. If Calleo had been really under her that moment – his cock filling her inside, alleviating this aching she had between her legs, satisfying this base desire that filled her with wanton hunger – then maybe, maybe she could forget all that was wrong and just live in the moment of lust and sweat and friction. The memory of his breath on her neck, the sounds of his breathing came to her, and she came with a great shudder, biting her lip to keep from crying out aloud.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus laid on the chaise lounge panting loudly, thankful Draco was busy with Ginny and not around to hear him masturbating in his dressing room. As his heart thumped painfully in his chest, he could still imagine Hermione straddling him, riding him, her feet planted on either side of the chaise lounge as her legs worked to raise and lower herself onto his cock, her wild hair a halo that swayed with each movement. Of all the masturbation fantasies Severus had had of Hermione, this one seemed almost real, as if she was there, her breasts bouncing in front of his face, her lean body arching and bucking as he thrust up from underneath.

And when Severus came, he swore he could hear Hermione whisper his alias, 'Calleo.'

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Feeling quite relaxed and a little dreamy from her little private interlude with herself, Hermione sauntered lazily to the champagne springs to soak for a bit while waiting for Ginny before her own body scrub. The tiny warm bubbles traveled up her body, creeping up her legs and between her slightly swollen lips.

After quick glance around to see if there was anyone else in the communal spring, Hermione laid her head back and let her legs spread slightly to allow more bubbles to gently stroke and tickle her labia and clitoris. It almost felt like vibrating hairs being dragged along her flesh. She gave a small hum of appreciation over the sensation that was prolonging her blissful state.

When the sound of a door opening echoed throughout the room, Hermione brought both legs together quickly and sat up straight, while trying hard not to look guilty over the fact she was getting turned on from the bubbles dancing on her skin below.

"Oh good, you're here," Ginny called out, looking positively glowing and relaxed.

"Good massage and body scrub?"

"Absolutely," her friend sighed with a contented smile, as she slipped into the champagne springs to join Hermione. "God, I love sitting in these springs. It feels positively…" Ginny looked about and waggled her brows. "Naughty."

Both witches burst into gales of giddy laughter, knowing the exact meaning of Ginny's words; their laughter and smiles were an admission of guilt.

The atmosphere felt so peaceful and quiet at the moment that Hermione's brain decided to ruin the moment by wondering if Ginny had stopped seeing Draco. But as she had made a promise to herself to curb her curiosity and adopt a "don't ask, don't tell" policy on the matter, the older witch held her tongue and banished all thoughts of that nature from the forefront of her mind. Today was a day to relax and rejuvenate, not fixate on problems that stressed her out so much that she would drink on an empty stomach or not sleep for most of a night.

Ginny cleared her throat and visibly swallowed. "Hermione? Can I tell you a secret? Will you promise not to tell Harry or Ron?"

The perfect moment was ruined. The tension that had inhabited Hermione's body for the past several months returned slowly; her muscles began tightening, and the warmth of the springs began to feel annoying and prickling to her skin. Not wanting to promise to anything she would regret, she replied in a very Slytherin fashion, "That depends on what it is."

Ginny looked a bit bashful as she said, "It's nothing bad. Even Mum knows about it."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking a bit stunned and simultaneously relieved. 'Is she pregnant?' Part of Hermione wanted it to be yes, but another part of her hoped it was no, wondering that if she was, would it be Harry's or Malfoy's child? If it were Malfoy's child, would Ginny still be magically bound to her husband? "Go ahead."

"Well," Ginny said hesitantly, leaning forward, "I've been taking belly dancing classes for ten years."

"What?" This was the last thing Hermione expected to hear Ginny admit. "What do you mean for the past ten years? How did – when – and what do you mean Harry and Ron don't know?" she said with a little exasperation.

"That's just it. I started taking lessons right after that trip to Egypt. Mum thought it would be kind of fun for me after I asked, and Dad was aware of the lessons, but we never told my brothers, as they would have gone off on some weird rant about lascivious dancing and their baby sister and such," Ginny explained. "Needless to say, when we did see belly dancers in Egypt, they were all too thrilled to sit there and stare with their mouths hanging open, drooling like a bunch of dogs. So I asked if I could learn to dance like that, and Mum arranged lessons in a Muggle town nearby."

"So Harry doesn't know? Why not?"

"Because if I tell him, then Ron will find out," Ginny said a little hotly.

"Well, maybe if you ask Harry not to tell—"

Hermione was cut short by Ginny emphatically saying, "No! I told Harry, in confidence, about how years ago Dean Thomas wanted to have sex during my fourth year, then Harry went off and told Ron. I told Harry not to tell Ron, and then he went off and spilled the beans anyway."

"Is this something you've talked about in counseling?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, but Harry rationalized it away by saying my brother had a right to know about how his dorm mate was trying to push me into sex when I wasn't ready – and this was something that happened years ago, mind you," Ginny growled. "So Ron blew up and went on another one of his emotional volcano outbursts and bugged me as to why I didn't tell him, and… it was just so unpleasant. The counselor did take Harry to task for betraying my confidence and trust, and told him that part of trust was not only trusting others, but allowing others to trust him as well."
"So why are you telling me? Why now?" Hermione asked, wondering if Ginny had an ulterior motive and if this was some sort of test of her confidence.

"Because I trust you won't tell Harry or Ron." Ginny looked away, focusing her attentions on the tendrils of steam floating up from the spring water.

Hermione sat there feeling pulled like a piece of taffy between three people. Ron, who was trying her patience and her tolerance; Ginny, who was testing her friendship with the slew of secrets she kept; and Harry, who she felt loyal to, yet lied to on behalf of Ginny in hopes of keeping the two together despite his emotional detachment to his own wife.

"Are you going to eventually tell them? You are an adult. There's not much they could do about it since you've been doing it for ten years," Hermione said logically. "It's not like they could take those lessons back."

"I could tell them, but then there's the whole, 'Oh why didn’t you tell us sooner, Gin?' Then they'd go into the rant about immoral dancing, keeping secrets and things. They don’t want to know, trust me."

She knew she was going to regret asking, but the older witch did anyway. "Does anyone else besides your Mum and Dad know?"

Ginny looked up at her with a little smirk, looking a little guilty. The older witch knew her answer before it left her mouth. "Draco."

"Why? Why him and not your husband?" Hermione's mouth was set in a stern frown.

The redhead cocked her head sideways and scrutinized Hermione, as if she was trying to peer into her soul. Finally she said, "Hasn't there ever been anyone in your life you could tell your deepest, darkest secrets to and not fear being judged?"

Hermione ducked her head in an attempt to hide the sudden blush upon her cheek. Her ears felt like they were burning. "No," she lied quietly, "but I guess I do see your point."

Groaning, Hermione got out of the water and grabbed her towel and dressing gown. "I think I'm going to cool down in my room for a while before I go for my body scrub."

Ginny informed her as she left that she was going to the sauna and the steam room for a bit, and would meet Hermione in the spa garden for tea later.
============

A/N: The Severus and Draco nail polish part of this fic was inspired by Melanie (DeviantArt: usagistu), who, at my request, did an illustration for this chapter. Slight NSFW as is shows Severus and Draco draped only in towels across their hips and a hint of Draco's butt cheeks. It is no longer housed on her DeviantArt page and only viewable here:
http://atdlhea-betz.tumblr.com/post/130621392575/art-by-melanie-deviantart-usagistu-and-they
I asked her to show that Severus and Draco were getting manicures and pedicures, but she added the nail polish and I found it so cute, I just had to incorporate it into the story.
Please welcome a new beta to the ranks, the fabulous JuneW.
Chypre -- A notably woodsy-mossy mix, this type was given its name by French perfumer Francois Coty, who created a scent based on his impression of the island of Cyprus. Chypre simply is French for Cyprus and is pronounced "SHIP-ruh."
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After