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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
- 43
- 44
- 45
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"
Chapter Forty-Four
“Sexy Dress, Sexless Night”

Disclaimer: With this disclaimer, I promise to love, honor and respect J.K. Rowling's intellectual property regarding Harry Potter. I will not make any money off of this, and will forsake all profit. I promise to cherish the ship of Severus and Hermione: In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer (poorer, as I am making no money off of this), during fluffy and angsty plots, till the implosion of the Internet do we part. Those whom I have paired in this fic, let no lawyer put asunder.

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A well-polished shoe kept tapping the floor with impatience. However, Severus would not be distracted from his task, so he kept scanning the case full of baked goods in front of him while continuing to ignore Draco's dramatic sighs.

“Just pick something, dammit!” the blond wizard ranted.

“I don't know what I'm in the mood for this morning,” Severus calmly replied, perusing the selection of scones still warm from the oven.

“Then get a brioche, like you always do.”

Severus didn't feel like a brioche that morning. Besides, he always got a brioche, and he was in the mood for something... different. He felt different, and his appetite reflected this change.

The employee behind the counter at the Twenty-Four Blackbird Bakery gave up waiting for Severus to make up his mind, and went back to the kitchen to rotate pans of pastries still baking in the ovens.

His eyes alighted on a selection of hot runic buns. There were twenty-four different symbols in a batch, each Ancient Rune symbolizing a different Nordic god and set of associated meanings. The set of twenty-four had not been broken yet, and Severus had his pick of any symbol. For those who believed in fate, it was considered lucky to have first pick from a batch. Severus considered it merely a sign that he had risen early and gotten there before any other patrons.

“I'll have the Wunjo,” he announced loud enough for the employee to hear and come back to the case to hand Severus a warm bun. The baked good had the Runic symbol of Wunjo, with looked like a Roman letter equivalent to a “P,” marked and baked into the top. The employee recorded their selections in the ledger, and the two wizards left to continue their habitual Friday morning trek to the Ministry of Magic.

But their routine had been changed by Severus' decision to get something different. By that one act, as they spoke to each other before they left the bakery, Severus did not eat a brioche, and instead of taking their usual long-legged strides to reach the Leaky Cauldron before the trickle of morning patrons began, Draco found that he had to stop and wait for Severus who was sauntering, trailing behind like some distracted schoolboy who had forgotten the purpose of his morning walk to school.

The younger wizard knew something was amiss from the moment Severus had fetched him that morning. They had not spoken of their exchange in the lift, and Severus behaved as if he had forgotten about it, which Draco deemed as unlikely as a troll winning the Ministry Award for Outstanding Achievement for Advancement of Magical Knowledge. Draco noticed that Severus would begin to smile and then catch himself before affixing his usual scowl back on his face. The darker wizard was always the more focused and dour of the two, and now it seemed the roles had reversed. Now Draco was the one who seemed short of humor and temper that morning, while Severus was lumbering along like a, like a...

Draco could scarcely believe it, but he would never make mention of it. To do so would risk causing Severus to return to his normal, grounded, sarcastic self and verbally refute, with cunning ambiguity, any remarks Draco might make, no matter how off-handed they were. It was much better to sit back, observe and gather more evidence that Severus was acting like a man who had newly fallen in love. One could collect more irrefutable proof for blackmailing and tossing out the occasional sarcastic gibe this way. Draco had suffered enough of them from Severus when he was reunited with Ginny; it was only fair that Severus receive the same treatment.

Severus' choice of hot runic bun told Draco that there was more at stake than trying to get a few Potion ingredients out of a certain witch. There was deadly serious business unfolding between Hermione and the Potions master, involving happiness and more. Draco would have to write to Ginny to figure out what she could deduce from her outing with Hermione tomorrow. Witches loved to talk while they shopped and maybe Hermione would talk enough to give Ginny an idea of what was going on, since Severus seemed to be rather closed-lipped regarding his Thursday night client.

Severus didn't care at the moment that Draco was watching him intently. The young wizard had been postulating for weeks that he was getting rather attached to Hermione. There was no point in denying it was true. And even though he knew he was behaving uncharacteristically, for just this one time Severus wanted to enjoy the morning instead of rushing through it.

The window boxes that adorned the second, third, and fourth story windows were full of lush summer blooms. It was the last flush of flowers before the plants would wither, the summer would slip away to autumn, and the earth would begin its slow decline into winter's rest. Severus used to quietly revel in the glories of the seasons when he had lived at Hogwarts, and he had missed the dramatic displays provided by the Scottish countryside. Wizarding London provided very little in the way of experiencing nature, and Severus was not prone to mingling with Muggles in the large public parks. So this morning he would observe nature in her simplest form: a few geraniums that spilled over a window box and trailed down the side of the building. The garish pinks and scarlet reds stood out in stark contrast to the gray stone walls.

Draco was still eating his croissant when he quipped, “Who are you, and what have you done with Snape?”

“You usually deliver much better lines than that, Draco.”

“Well, I hope you are done sulking alone in your office, as Lavender has been unbearable these past few days. She is truly on a tear this week, and I will not be the one to bear the brunt of her attitude any longer. She can go snap at you, so I don't have to listen to her anymore!” Draco raved, his arms gesticulating his frustration.

“And just what has got Miss Brown so upset this time?” Severus asked, thanking his good fortune that he had not spent any time in her company over the past few days, judging from Draco's descriptions.

“I don't know, as she wouldn't say when I confronted her. But I did catch her mumbling something about 'having cake and eating it too,' 'men are two-faced dogs,' and the like,” Draco informed him.

Severus meditated on the matter in silence as they finished their walk to the Leaky Cauldron.

When both well-cloaked wizards emerged from one of the many fireplaces in the Ministry of Magic, Severus scanned the atrium to see who was about. The fireplace next to the one they had emerged from roared to life. Kingsley stepped out into the atrium and spied the pair of wizards.

Severus and Draco both waited for Kingsley and fell into step behind the Auror, silently following him to his office.

Once the door was closed and the room secured, the tall, black Auror collapsed into his chair with a relieved sigh. “I'm sorry I'm running late this morning; there is still a lot of stuff to sort out at home,” Shacklebolt explained.

“Really?” Severus asked, trying to be conversational. “What has happened?”

“Oh, I guess I didn't tell you. I was separated from Amphegoria for a short while, but we have decided that I should move back home. We're working out a few things,” he admitted, then quickly changed the topic.

“Let's get this over with, so we can get on with other matters that need discussing,” the Auror announced with the same level of disgust that Severus and Draco felt regarding their weekly pat question-and-answer script.

Severus wondered if this was the proof he was looking for in connecting Kingsley to Miss Brown, finding it to be a rather strong coincidence. Maybe Kingsley going back to his wife really was the source of his employer's bad mood, as described by Draco.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione woke to find that Ron was already up. She could hear him in the other room. Padding into the kitchen, she saw her husband going over that morning's Owl Post.

“Anything of interest?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, a couple of things. Mum wants to throw together a little surprise get-together for Ginny's birthday this Sunday, on the tenth. And there is an invite to a dinner party tomorrow night. It's from William's wife, Christie.”

Hermione's face fell when she heard who was throwing the dinner party. “If she expects us to come—” she began to rail, but was cut off by Ron.

“We're going. William and I are good friends, and—”

“Such good friends that his wife couldn't bother to invite us to a dinner party before? Did you know that the only other time she has ever bothered to invite us to one of her parties was when she met Harry, that time after he and Ginny came to a game and she discovered we were good friends? Only then did she invite us, but only because of Harry,” Hermione complained loudly.

“Why didn't we go then?” Ron queried.

“Because Harry, Ginny, and I were all pretty disgusted with the way Christie was sucking up to Harry,” she explained.

“Well, the invitation does not include Harry. This is because William and I are mates,” he retorted. “Why do you have to try and sabotage something that does not revolve around you?”

“I'm not sabotaging anything, Ron. I just find it so convenient that after all these years, you finally get an invitation to dinner after you make first string, get your picture on the cover of Quidditch Weekly, and land a very lucrative endorsement deal! After Christie and her bint sidekick, Nicole, have pointed out very snootily that their husbands were rich, playing first string, and were famous, then made additional disparaging remarks about your salary. I find it ironic that now she wants us to socialize with her and their friends. Before she acted as if I wasn't fit to serve her own house-elves, and now she invites us to dinner. HA!” she barked sardonically. Hermione had worked up into such a state by then that she banged the teakettle about before filling it with water and placing it on the cooker.

“I want to go. I've had no problems with Christie before, and William is a mate,” Ron told his wife firmly. As Hermione opened her mouth to refuse, Ron added, “I go to counseling because you wanted us to. Come to the dinner party because I want to. Please, as a favor for me.”

Hermione was robbed of her retort by Ron's sudden bout of reason and politeness. Rooted to the floor, Hermione watched the steam rise from the spout of the teakettle starting with a few curling tendrils to eventually become a forceful jet, and still she could not think of a good excuse as to why they shouldn't go, other than that Christie was a complete and utter bitch.

As she poured the hot water into her mug, Hermione acquiesced. “All right. I'll do this for you since you asked so nicely. But if you expect me to put up with her insults—”

“Don't go to this dinner party expecting the worst, 'Mione. At least try and have a good time,” he begged. “And since Ginny is taking you dress shopping tomorrow, you should probably pick up something a little extra nice to wear for the dinner party.”

“I don't know, Ron. I feel uncomfortable enough as it is spending a lot of money on one good dress for our anniversary. To buy two… and you haven't even renegotiated your contract yet… I don’t know. I don't want to waste money,” Mrs. Weasley rationalized.

“I will not go to that party with my wife looking like a frump!” Ron exclaimed.

“A frump?!? I do not dress like a frump!”

“Yes, you do. All the time!”

“I do not; and there is nothing wrong with simple classic clothes. Those trendy fashions are a waste of money; they are out of style before you even leave the store! I won't waste good money on something I can only wear once,” Hermione justified.

“Well, for Merlin’s sake, don't pick brown, black, or dark blue,” Ron barked at his wife irritably. “Buy something with a little flash or style.”

And with his parting words, he left the kitchen and headed off for some early morning training without another word.

Hermione was silently seething over Ron's remarks about her looking like a frump. She got the distinct impression that he didn't want her to buy a nice dress so much that she deserved it, but rather to make himself look good to the Kidds and their friends when they showed up.

If she was going to a dinner party tomorrow night, and was going to get dressed up, Hermione knew she needed a little more than just a new dress to look presentable.

Reaching for a new sheaf of parchment from a stack Hermione kept in the kitchen for Ron to use to reply to his fans, she jotted down a note asking Ginny for additional help, and sent the missive off with Pigwidgeon.

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

'Be a little extra careful. Hmph!'

Severus thought on Kingsley's cryptic warning to keep his nose and wand clean. This only meant that surprise inspections were right around the corner, and Miss Brown still had not been able to get the Ministry to reconnect the Floo in Macnair's former residence.

Two wizards, both tall but completely different in their coloring as night and day, made their way to work after their weekly Friday parole meeting at the Ministry of Magic.

To keep his mind off of impending doom, Severus asked Draco a question that had been circulating in his mind since Hermione had mentioned her strange job offer. “Since you intend on doing all the advertising and marketing for all these new specialized potions coming out soon, where else will they be sold, besides apothecaries?”

“I wish I could tell you, Severus,” Draco answered, “but I can't. I'm under orders from Lavender not to talk to anyone, including you, about this.”

“Even me? But I'm working on the damn things!” Severus snarled at the absurdity of it all.

“Talk to Lavender. That's all I can say.”

Severus was set to hex someone by the time he reached Miss Brown's office. He didn't even bother knocking as he slammed the doors open to her office and strode in, radiating unquestionable authority.

“And just what is this business you mean by instructing Draco that he cannot inform me of where you will be peddling these damn sex Potions that I have developed?” Severus hissed venomously.

Lavender Brown was sitting in her tall-backed office chair with her back to Severus. She swiveled the chair around to glare at Severus with equal rancor. “Me, me, me! Is that all you men ever think about?” the witch spat. “I will not allow my plans to get overturned by loose lips and renegade Potions masters! You consulted with Hermione about the male enhancement potion without notifying me beforehand, then dropped that little bomb in my lap about the royalties later. All I need is for you to casually mention some of my other plans to that witch, and then she goes and starts mentioning things to certain people, and then those parties will wonder how she came upon such information. This is a secret deal in the works for something bigger.”

“Then you could have just told me that it was proprietary information to the company, and I would have kept my mouth shut. I was a spy for the Order before you were an impulse in your father's libido! I think I can keep a secret as simple as whatever you are trying to keep from me!” Severus countered with a scowl.

“I thought you didn't care how or where these potions will be sold, 'as long as it sells and you get your cut'.” A strand of hair came loose from her coiffure as Lavender jostled her head about, as she threw back Severus' very own words at him mockingly.

“I am just making sure you are reaching maximum market saturation potential when you launch this new line.”

Miss Brown found herself to be momentarily speechless. When she finally spoke, she said very calmly, “Why Severus, I didn't think you were ever paying attention to all that marketing jargon, much less cared to absorb it.”

“Of course I paid attention, I just don't particularly care to talk about it. Anything that helps line my vault with more gold is of interest to me. And now about this business about a larger deal at work?” Severus prompted his employer.

“I have your word that this is not for repeating to anyone else, except Draco, who already knows?”

“Of course you have my word.”

“I have a partnership deal going on with some old business partners of mine to open a shop catering to the sensually-minded witch,” Lavender said with a bit of smugness. “Besides apothecaries, these sex potions we have been developing will be sold in this store that will feature many erotic items for sale.”

“Let me guess,” Severus said dryly. “You'll be selling dildos, vibrators, erotic lingerie, and kinky sex costumes.”

Lavender bowed her head in deference to Severus' ability to be very quick with his deduction. “Very astute!”

“Not really. Hermione told me what would be sold at the store, as one of the twins offered her the job of managing the store,” Severus explained with a deadpan delivery. When Miss Brown's mouth fell open, he said with saccharine-sweet false surprise, “Oh, let me guess who these 'old business partners' are.” He threw back with the same mockery Miss Brown had given to him earlier, “Fred and George Weasley?”

Severus savored the moment as the light turned on and the gears in his employer’s mind began to smoke furiously.

The silence was broken when she finally screamed, “WHAT?!?”

“And Hermione has also informed me that Trevor Spawn's pending apprenticeship is now null and void,” Severus continued, as if Miss Brown had not uttered a word. “Though I can tell you that between a managerial position selling venereal paraphernalia and a Potions apprenticeship, I think I can speak for her and tell you she'd rather take the latter. So there is no reason to panic that she will peddle your wares, and you may merely deal with the fact that she will help research and develop them instead.”

At this point, Severus would have risen from his chair to leave the room while Miss Brown continued to sit there looking completely stunned, but since he was standing, he merely turned on his heel and headed toward the door.

“I'm not done discussing matters with you yet,” Lavender announced acidly.

Severus did not care to have that tone taken with him. He stopped and pulled himself up to his full imposing height before turning around to fix the young witch with a harsh glare.

“I am not a servant to be summoned or dismissed in such a fashion. Think hard before you address me in such a tone again, Miss Brown,” he warned her. Severus took pleasure in the fact that Miss Brown seemed to recoil a little from his poisonous tone.

They had enjoyed an adequate working relationship over the years, but it seemed that since Hermione had been added to the mix, that association was coming under strain.

“I want to discuss Mrs. Waters,” Lavender said plainly.

“What about her?”

“I received an owl from her earlier this week saying that she no longer feels the need to rely upon you for comfort and is ready to take the necessary action you encouraged her to do,” Lavender ground out, trying to keep a civil tone. “I do not appreciate the fact that you have been getting rid of your clients without warning, Severus. Now you are down to just two clients a week.”

Severus inspected the curio niche next to him, and inspected it for dust in an indolent manner. “No,” he contradicted her silkily, “I have three: Miss Anne, Mrs. Paxton, and Hermione.”

“You have only two paying clients, Severus,” she corrected him. “So therefore you only have two clients on the books. With Moody taking a keen interest in my employment of you, I need to have something on record to justify your lodging and food; or would you rather I put Hermione on the books once more, only to come under scrutiny once you flee? Then she can explain to the world's most conspiracy theory fixated Auror that she was not providing you Potions ingredients, and that she just happens to conveniently work in such a department where she could obtain them without record of purchase.”

Severus sat and stewed as he digested the implications of this predicament. He mentally kicked himself for not considering the set of books Lavender kept regarding who saw which gigolo, in order to cover her own arse with proof that certain employees worked for their own keep; he did not want Hermione to go to Azkaban for doing the right thing.

“All right. But no more witches who want a fuck,” Severus stipulated, then realized his demand after he had made it. 'If Malfoy can make that demand after he realized he was in love with Ginny, then so can I.'

Lavender rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and sighed, “All right. But that will be harder to find. Currently, all the witches I know who might be interested are not necessarily interested in conversation only.” Fixing the Potions master with a look, she asked, “Why the sudden aversion to clients that require a certain level of intimacy? I know Mrs. Paxton hasn't asked you for a tussle in your bed for a while now, so that means you are just taking care of Miss Anne. One shag a week? For a man in your prime? And all those batches of male enhancement potion? How ever shall you test them all?” she asked with exaggerated innocence.

“Draco has offered to do some testing,” Severus replied coolly, not liking Miss Brown's implicating tone.

“But how can you compare Draco's observations objectively to your own... personal testing methods?” she asked. “There are six batches, and considering that since testing has begun you've only seen Miss Anne once, just how have you been testing the other batches, Severus? Is there something going on between you and Hermione Weasley?”

“Just conversation and dance lessons,” he replied with truthful confidence, though even if there was something more going on, he would easily lie about it to keep his employer's nose out of this one piece of his own personal business. If Severus would have an affair with Hermione, it would not be while he was on the clock for Miss Brown.

Lavender swiveled her chair so that she was facing away from Severus and the door. “Just wondering. I will let you know when I get a new non-shagging client for you, though it may take a week or so. I may have to wait until my woman's intuition kicks in and I find the right candidate.”

There seemed little left to discuss, and Severus did not want to stick around to be dismissed, so he departed. As he was closing the door, the wizard caught sight of an owl delivering a large bouquet of red roses as it arrived at Miss Brown's window. There was a card attached, but that was all he could observe before he shut the door. Later on he would have to stop by Miss Brown's office and see if the card was casually lying about so that he might glance at it, and determine if the flowers were an act of contrition of Kingsley for going back to his wife.

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

When Saturday rolled around, Hermione was still vexed over Ron's comments about the way she dressed. This, from a wizard who thought that a paisley suit with a damask stripe looked pretty snappy. Perhaps Mrs. Weasley should not have gone shopping while she was still angry at her husband; maybe then she would not have bought that dress.

Hermione had overslept. By the time she woke up, Ron was already gone and she realized that Ginny was probably already expecting her. She rushed through her shower and dressed in the first clean, non-wrinkled garments she came across in her wardrobe.

Arriving at the Potter residence, Hermione found Harry was busy answering a few urgent Owl Posts, and Ginny was finishing her morning tea.

To her relief, Hermione was actually a bit early, and Dobby prepared some tea and toast with jam for her.

Ginny bid farewell to her husband with a peck on his forehead before the two witches used the Floo to go directly to Madame Maurelle Mandel's House of Haute Couture.

The two witches emerged from the fireplace into a grand lobby decorated in turn-of-the-century Parisian Art Nouveau style. The older witch suddenly felt under dressed, and rather... frumpy.

“Maybe I should have dressed a little nicer,” Hermione said out of the side of her mouth.

“Nonsense!” Ginny stated. “This is one of the few places where they don't judge you by what you wear when coming here. You should see what some witches wear when they come shopping here. One would think that they couldn't afford to even walk through the door of this place, until you see them drop a couple bags of Galleons on a dress,” the redhead informed her friend with quiet confidentiality. “This is one of the few places where you don't have to act like a stuck-up old bag to get good service; however, to get in the door, you have to be recommended by a regular customer. Fortunately for you, I'm one.”

This was good news to Hermione. Not only was she going to get decent service despite how she was dressed, but she would not have to act like a bitch to get any of the sales staff to pay attention to her.

“And who was your reference?” Hermione asked, wondering how Ginny got her introduction.

“Draco.”

“Malfoy?!” Hermione hissed in a frantic whisper. “Are you mad? What if someone talks and then Harry finds out?”

Keeping an equally quiet voice, Ginny replied somberly, “That was before the decree.”

Just as Ginny dropped the topic, a very petite witch with an elaborate chignon piled on top of her head emerged from behind the carved wooden divider depicting the goddess Diana hunting by moonlight, accompanied by a deer.

“Ginny! Ma chérie!” Madam Maurelle greeted Mrs. Potter.

Ginny leaned forward and exchanged a press of cheek and kiss with the tiny witch.

“Maurelle, I would like to introduce my very dear friend, Hermione Weasley. This is her first time here, and she needs your special help,” Ginny announced.

“If she is so special, then why haven't you brought her here before?” the elfish woman with black hair and rich brown skin teased Ginny, before going up to Hermione and rising up onto her toes to greet Hermione in the same manner.

Hermione easily remembered the customary greeting from her trip to France, and was pleased to see the exchange for Muggles and wizards was the same.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Hermione said, feeling very welcome.

“Please! Come inside! I have a salon ready for you; everything has been taken care of. This way, s'il vous plaît,” Madame Maurelle requested, directing her guests forward with a sweep of her arm.

Hermione found something warm and reassuring in the proprietor's presence. Perhaps it was that the French witch reminded her of Professor Flitwick in her cheerful and enthusiastic manner, and her diminutive size.

All three witches strolled into a room prepared for everything they would need for a morning of shopping. Ginny sat down on the overstuffed sofa as Madame Maurelle whipped out her wand and began waving it all over Hermione's body, taking down measurements. A floating piece of parchment and quill took down notes rattled off in French.

Madam Maurelle made a noise to signify that she was satisfied and swept out of the room in a flurry of activity, the quill still scratching away at the floating piece of parchment that followed her like a faithful familiar.

Hermione settled herself into a comfortable Bergère chair next to where Ginny was seated. As she plucked a Linzer tart off the trolley laden with tea and other comestibles, Hermione queried, “So what happens next?”

“In a few minutes this room will be filled with every dress in your size that will flatter your figure and your coloring. Madame Maurelle is very thorough, so that you do not waste your time on dresses that do not look good on you. If you look good, then so does she. She has such a reputation, that's why she only takes new clients by introduction of her regular ones,” Ginny replied.

“Why haven't you brought me here before?” the older witch asked, trying not to sound hurt that she only just now learned of such a dress shop.

“That's because you would have balked at the prices before,” Ginny said simply. “Let's face it, before Ron's promotion to first string, you couldn't afford this place. If you have to ask the price, you can't afford it.”

Hermione made a small “O” with her mouth, as she comprehended why the service was so warm and friendly.

“I wonder if I brought enough with me,” Hermione worried aloud.

“Maurelle has one of the few establishments that has an agreement with Gringotts that your signature on the bill allows the goblins to enter your vault and withdraw enough money to pay it. I believe the Grand Royal Supper Club has the same arrangement, as well.” Ginny flicked her wand and levitated the pot to pour a cup of tea before the cup and saucer levitated over to her waiting hands.

Just as Hermione was going to launch into questions about why more businesses didn't have a wizarding equivalent of a checking account system instead of making most everyone rely on carrying around heaps of coins, several racks of dresses with matching cloaks, shoes, and accessories suddenly appeared, lining the walls of the private salon room.

Ginny rose from her seat and started looking at the dresses. “Now starts the fun part,” she announced gleefully, like a child let loose in Honeydukes with unlimited pocket money. Plucking a forest green silk dress off the far rack, she said, “Try this on!”

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

So maybe it wasn't her anger that pushed Hermione to buy the dress she would wear to the dinner party later that night. It probably had to do with the two bottles of wine Hermione and Ginny consumed while the brunette witch tried on dress after dress.

There were so many dresses, and all of them were so flattering on Hermione, that she had set several aside. It was from this pile that she would select a dress to wear for her anniversary. But as the second bottle was drained of its contents, Hermione still had not found a dress she that wanted to wear to the Kidds' dinner party. Everything was too formal or too casual, and Hermione wanted to wear something that was neither plain nor ostentatious. It was a delicate balance of looking dressed to kill, and not dressed to overindulgence.

It was when Hermione drained the last of her glass and found that there was no more wine open that Ginny came upon the dress.

“Ah, this is the one, Hermione. Wear this one tonight, and Ron won't be able to keep his hands off of you,” Ginny said as she pulled out a long black number with long sleeves.

Hermione squinted, as everything looked just a little fuzzy. “That won't work. Ron made a snide comments about no browns, dark blues, and blacks,” she said, mimicking the tone Ron had used with her earlier that day.

“Just trust me and try this on,” Ginny said, trying to convince her friend.

“All right,” Hermione muttered and levered herself off the couch. She discovered, gravity was indeed a bit arbitrary after drinking so much, since it seemed to have intensified a bit since they had finished the first bottle of wine.

Taking the dress from Ginny's grasp, she looked at the front and shook her head sadly. “This is way too conservative. The neckline is up at the collarbone, the sleeves completely cover the arms, Ron will definitely give me hell if I spend good money on this after he told me to get something with a little flash,” Hermione confessed.

“Look at the back,” Ginny urged her.

Hermione turned the garment around and blinked. “Where's the rest of it?”

Looking at the garment one more time, Hermione realized that this dress took the term “backless” to a new level.

“Try it on, what could it hurt?” Ginny egged her on.

Hermione was certain there were charms on Madam Maurelle's dresses to prevent witches as drunk as Hermione and Ginny from tearing them. After dropping her dressing gown, Hermione shimmied herself through the skirt portion only to stand there with her torso exposed while she tried slipping her arms through the sleeves. The sleeves were the only thing keeping the dress up.

Turning around in the mirror to examine herself, Hermione thought the front of the floor-length dress looked stunning. It was elegant and understated, but as she turned around in the three-way mirror, she got an eyeful of her back completely exposed. The back of the garment dropped below Hermione's waist so that it scooped just above the crack of her arse.

“I don't think it's supposed to go this low,” Hermione commented, wondering how she was going to wear tights with a dress like this.

“Let's ask Maurelle,” Ginny replied.

Mrs. Potter rang a bell, and the petite proprietor swept into the room only to stop and gasp in surprise. “That dress was made for you, my dear!” she sighed breathlessly.

“Is it supposed to go down that far below my waist?” Hermione asked.

“But of course! Not only does it show the small of the back, but the lower back as well. No man will be able to resist you once you wear this!” Madame Maurelle exclaimed.

“But how do I keep it staying up?” Mrs. Weasley asked, pulling at the left shoulder that kept trying to slip off.

“Sticking charms, my dear.” The small witch moved around Hermione, tapping her wand to various places along the edge of the fabric to secure the dress in place. “Now you could play Quidditch and that dress would not fall off.”

Hermione doubted she would be able to wear such a revealing garment in public, much less a Quidditch match. It certainly felt a little drafty with the dress on.

“Ah, you forgot the cloak that goes with it,” Madame Maurelle noted and fetched the accompanying piece from the rack. She placed the matching black silk cloak over Hermione's shoulders. “This dress is the latest fashion, and this cloak is one of the newest fashion trends.” The cloak only came to the middle of Hermione's thighs.

“Should the cloak be this short?” Hermione liked how the ensemble went together. It could even pass for a Muggle evening dress that she could wear with her mother to the theater. At least the cloak completely covered the fact that her back was completely exposed to the elements.

“For evening dresses, it's the new rage in Paris, especially for summertime. If you wear this tonight, I guarantee every witch at the party will go out and buy a half-cloak. Did you try it with the shoes?” the shop owner asked.

Hermione slipped on the matching black satin heels and sighed. She looked great, and for once she thought her legs looked long and slender, not short and spindly.

“Well? You are going to buy this, right?” Ginny asked her. “You have to buy this dress, Hermione. You look fabulous!”

“What about tights?” Hermione asked.

“Voilà! Stockings,” Maurelle replied, whipping out a black pair from a box located in a hidden drawer along the wall.

Slipping the thigh-high stockings onto her leg, Hermione ran her hand along the weave and loved the silky feel of them against her skin. With the exception of her hair and lack of make-up, Hermione had to admit to herself that she looked pretty damned good as she examined the whole outfit.

“Aw, come on, Hermione. You have to buy this dress. Please?” Ginny pleaded.

“Your friend has good taste,” Madam Maurelle mentioned to Ginny, hoping to influence Hermione's decision.

'Ron will kill me. Well, not kill me. What is the worst he could do?' Hermione internally debated with herself. 'He might lose his temper. But so what? Like he's never done that before. He did say he didn't want me to look like a frump, and to buy something stylish. Well, this is certainly stylish. More like elegant. I just wish Severus could see me tonight all dressed up.'

That thought sent her inebriated mind into a dream scenario involving her showing up at the Kidds' party on Severus' arm, and introducing him as her ex-Death Eater lover. She could imagine him hexing Christie Kidd for looking at her wrong. Visions of a little pile of smoldering ash where Christie once stood filled her mind. Hermione found the thought so amusing she started to giggle.

“You all right?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, I'll take it,” Hermione said on impulse, not caring in her current state of mind if Ron had a fit or not. “I'll have to learn that charm if I'm going to go bra-less, which I'll have to for this dress.”

“And have you decided on a dress for your anniversary?” Madam Maurelle asked.

After looking through the ones Hermione had set aside, Ginny and Madam Maurelle helped her pick a rich red sleeveless, floor-length dress. Once shoes, a matching cloak and accessories were picked out, the proprietor disappeared out the door with Hermione's purchases and to tally the bill, while Hermione dressed.

Once dressed, Hermione glanced at the clock and suddenly realized that if she didn't leave soon, she was going to miss the opening of Ron's game.

“Damn! I've got to get going, and you still haven't taught me that charm to hold everything in place without a bra,” Hermione noted with regret, rushing about to make sure she had everything before heading off to Chudley Stadium.

“Don't worry,” her redheaded friend assured her. “When I come over tonight to help you with your hair, as a dry run for your anniversary, I'll teach you the charm then.”

“Thanks!” Hermione gave Ginny a hug of appreciation for all her help.

Madam Maurelle came back with the two dresses and matching cloaks packaged up in large gold boxes, with smaller gold boxes containing the two pairs of shoes and accessories. “Would you like to take these with you, or shall I have a house-elf deliver them to your home?” the dusky witch asked.

“Oh! If you could have them delivered home, I would be grateful,” Hermione answered, dreading to see the bill that was drifting through the door ready for her signature.

“No problem at all, 'Ermione.”

Mrs. Weasley was presented the bill, and upon seeing the total restrained a strangled gasp that threatened to escape her lips. After she signed her name, the paper began folding itself up until it was just a tiny scrap of paper, and disappeared with a tiny “pop.” Madam Maurelle left the private salon after a round of effusive farewells and promises from Ginny and Hermione to return for a yet unannounced ball that the Ministry would be throwing in October.

Hermione was just about to leave when Ginny called her back over to the tea trolley. On the aforementioned trolley lay two vials of Sobering Solution. The older witch thought it was very prudent for Madam Maurelle to provide such a service to her customers, no doubt so that the husbands would think their wives had not been drunk off their arses to spend that amount of money on clothing. Ron would not accuse Hermione of being drunk if he ever saw the bill, but he would say she had gone mad. Hopefully, if she looked good enough in her new dresses, he would never ask how much they had cost.

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

Severus sat in the kitchen procrastinating. He knew he should be getting ready for Miss Anne's imminent arrival, but could find little cause to motivate himself to get up, shower, and dress in clean clothes. At least he should freshen up, as he was sure he smelled of the onions that he had sautéed with the pork he had eaten for dinner.

Groaning with resignation and a small amount of reluctance, the raven-haired wizard rose from the table and went to the bathroom. He quickly completed his ablutions so that his person and breath did not reek.

Just as he was buttoning his cuffs, he heard Miss Anne knock.

Severus put on his Bauta mask, as he did not care to plaster on a convincing smile tonight for his client. In truth, he just wanted to spend the evening with a good book and a snifter of brandy, rather than the strawberry blond vixen. Even with more of his nights available recently, the Potions master was still behind on his reading.

He answered the door and ushered Miss Anne inside, his voice lacking the usual warmth and sincerity. Once the door was closed, Miss Anne threw herself at Severus with gusto, whinging about how she'd been itching for a good scratch from him all week long.

Normally, Severus would have happily obliged and started offering a selection of sexual situations to appease her appetite, but his libido did not rise to the occasion. Her presence was already tiresome, and he just wanted her gone. Remembering Miss Brown admonishing him about severing business relations with his clients, and how he was already short one client a week to keep up a believable front with the Ministry about his source of income, Severus accepted the fact that he was either going to have to fuck Miss Anne or find some other way to keep the nymphomaniacal nuisance amused, or at least quiet.

'If she was asleep, at least she wouldn't be bothering me,' thought Severus.

With a wave of his wand, he darkened the room and seductively asked his client to remove her clothing and lie down on his bed. He excused himself to fetch some items in his bathroom.

Rummaging through his cabinets, he found his bottle of essence of sopophorous bean that he used in his tea for sleepless nights, and his bottle of lavender oil. Summoning Marf into the bathroom so that he would not be involved in the handling of the ingredients per se, Severus instructed Marf to pour a measure of almond oil into a smaller container, then added two drops of the sopophorous bean essence and three drops of the lavender oil. He was just making a little massage oil for a client, but knowing Moody, he couldn't even be involved with mixing more than sugar with his tea to keep his record clean. He was pushing the limit of what he was getting away with as it was working for Miss Brown.

Upon returning, Severus suggested a little sensual massage to get Miss Anne relaxed and in the mood.

He started with her shoulders and back. By the time he reached her lower back, Miss Anne was snoring soundly and would be out for a few hours. Hopefully she would wake and not demand that Severus rend her sexual services. But how many weeks could he keep this up? Miss Anne was a witch with an almost insatiable carnal appetite. How many weeks could he get by with putting her to sleep before she started demanding that he shag her? It was a pity that he couldn't alter her memory to make her think Severus had shagged her, as that would make life so much easier.

Life would be a lot easier if Severus didn't love Hermione, but life would certainly not seem as rich as it had become lately. The dinners with Hermione were only one small aspect of her in his life. The conversation was intense, and on more than one occasion he had found himself shaking from the intensity of thought provoked by their debates. Hermione had made him tremble with stimulation and enthusiasm. Of course he had kept a bit of intellectual detachment in place, so as not to appear too emotional during their talks, but he had noted the rare occasion when his hands could not keep still.

Severus looked back down at the softly snoring witch and hoped she would not demand that he shag her when she awoke. He could do it if pressed, but his heart wasn't in it; Hermione was in possession of that particular organ.

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

The Kidds were fashionable people who set trends, as well as followed them. The party did not start until eight o'clock, and dinner would not be served until nine. Hermione and Ron were both used to eating earlier, and so by the time they arrived they were both very hungry.

Hermione had stayed so late at Madame Maurelle's dress shop that she wound up eating the food available for sale at the Cannons’ game for her lunch. The Cornish pasties were not that good, and Mrs. Weasley threw hers away after eating only half of it out of desperation. By the time the game was over and Hermione got back home, there was no time for her to snack, as she needed to shower so Ginny could begin working on her hair and make-up.

Ron waited until the last minute before jumping into the shower. Hermione could not complain about his timing, as he wouldn't be able to see her dress without the cloak until after they were already at the Kidds' and he could not exactly demand in front of everyone that she go back home and put something different on... or maybe he would.

Slipping the dress on, Hermione prayed that Ron would not come out of the bathroom until she was completely dressed and waiting in the other room. She put the sticking charms on, slipped on her stockings and applied a sticking charm to them as well to keep them up, and then cast the charm Ginny showed her to her breasts to keep them up and in place so they would not sway about as she moved.

Dressed and with all the charms cast to keep everything in place, Hermione moved about and discovered the bra-less charm really did quite a good job, though she still fell somewhat naked without a bra on. Looking at herself in the mirror before she put her cloak on, she couldn't believe she was actually going to be wearing such a revealing dress. Granted, she looked great in the black silk dress and it made her look very womanly, but she dreaded Ron's reaction. The enchanted mirror, which would have normally made some sort of comment, was abnormally quiet. It was most probably still afraid that if it said anything, Hermione would hold good on her promise to send it to the bottom of the Thames.

“What was I thinking?” she asked herself. 'I must have been drunk at the time to buy this dress, as I certainly would not have bought this while sober.'

A mental vision of dancing with Severus while wearing the dress came to mind, and she shuddered as she speculated how delicious it would feel to have his hands on her bare back.

“Down, girl,” she chastised herself.

Grabbing her matching cloak, she put it on and waited silently for Ron in the living room.

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

Hermione and Ron Apparated back to their flat. There was a moment of silence before they both started talking at the same time.

“What were you doing buying a dress like that?!?”

“I never want to be forced to endure that stupid, stuck-up bint and her snotty friends for an entire evening ever again!”

They let the other's statements sink in before answering each other.

“You said you wanted me to buy something stylish, Ron. Well, it is the latest fashion. Your own sister told me to buy it, and helped me put it on tonight. You wanted me as some piece of meat to show off on your arm like some damn trophy wife, so I think I rather fit the part in this dress. So I don't know what you are complaining about,” Hermione retorted.

Mrs. Weasley was feeling very resentful over how the whole evening went down like a lead feather in her book. Ron had acted like she was there to sit like a good little wife and not engage in scintillating discussion at the dinner table. He seemed chafed by the fact that she had tried to steer the conversation to more interesting subjects while he kept on trying to counteract her attempts at adult conversation by bringing up Quidditch, at which point all the males at the table would erupt into excited chatter and dominate the subject of discussion.

“I did no such thing!” Ron countered. “I did not treat you like some trophy wife! You could have been dressed more appropriately, though, instead of prancing about half-naked in that dress!”

“It's a backless dress, Ron!”

“I can see that!” Ron bellowed sarcastically.

“Most of the other witches at the party seemed to like it,” Hermione pointed out. It seemed Hermione's dress was the only thing that the other witches at the party had liked about her.

“Yeah, only the ones whose husbands’ eyes weren't glued to your backside the rest of the evening!” Ron remarked hotly

“Oh, and your eyes were glued to Nicole Stewart's cleavage the whole time her husband's head was turned,” Hermione insisted with irritation.

“She had those two big buttons on her dress! How could I not notice that?” Ron said defensively.

“Those weren't buttons, those were your eyes!” Hermione fumed, angered by Ron's hypocrisy. “If you ever get another invite from the Kidds again, go without me. I will not be left to suffer those insipid witches while the 'men retire to the library.' All those other witches could talk about were children, fashion, and the latest gossip! Unbearable!”

“Unbearable because it wasn't intellectual enough?” Ron asked snidely. “You could have just been polite and just smiled and nodded. But no! During dinner you kept on bringing up the Goblin Rebellion and the Goblins' monopoly on the wizarding banking industry. Then there was the moment you brought up that play, 'Merlin and Morgana: The Lost Years.' I mean, what was that all about?”

“I thought a little cultural discussion would not be out of line, but it seems I was wrong. Are you happy now?” Hermione asked, her voice rising in pitch with her temper. “I admit I was wrong: wrong to assume that anyone at that dinner party had seen what is considered a classic play in the wizarding world!”

“Well, it can't be that much of a classic if only one out of twelve dinner guests has seen it,” Ron needled her.

Hermione huffed in anger and began stomping about the living room. Tired of walking in her satin heels, she removed one of them and chucked it at her husband's head.

Ron caught the flying shoe with precision, as if he was catching a Quaffle. He dropped the shoe and marched off to the bedroom.

Still in a tantrum over her husband's attitude and the evening's events, Hermione paid little attention to what Ron was doing until she was assaulted by a pile of bedclothes and her pillow.

“What's this?” she asked, looking at the pile of blankets on the floor.

“You're smart. You figure it out!” Ron yelled before slamming the door and locking it with a series of spells.

Hermione looked at the door and then once more to the heap on the floor. She couldn't believe it. 'He's kicking me out of the bed!'

Mrs. Weasley could have easily undid the spells Mr. Weasley placed on the door, but she was certain he might just physically carry her out of the bedroom and drop her on the couch, which would not only be humiliating, but more infuriating. Considering their volatile attitudes at the moment, it might not be wise to push the matter. It might result in a slew of hexes being cast, and the night ending with both of them at St. Mungo's.

Over the years she had kicked Ron out of bed a few times, and she had wondered if he would ever do the same to her. Her question now answered and her pride stinging, Hermione undressed and crawled onto the couch to go to sleep. She placed a sheet on the couch to lie on and a thin sheet over herself, as the night was fairly muggy.

'If I had brought Severus with me to that party, we could have spent the whole night talking with each other.' She snorted to herself. 'Severus would not have gone to that dinner party in the first place. I would have had a better time at his flat.'

Hermione sighed. She remembered that Severus said that his Sunday, Tuesday and Saturday nights were not available if she wanted to stop by in the evening. Her mind began to wonder if the witch who was at his flat that night came to see Severus for conversation or sex. It made her a little depressed just thinking of Severus in bed with another witch, holding her and lying with her.

Severus' vocation was a fact Hermione had come to grips with, but it still didn't help that she suddenly felt a pang of jealousy that she would have to share Severus with other witches. She wanted to be selfish and have Severus all to herself. Maybe if Ron made enough money, she'd spite her husband and spend it all on keeping Severus so that he didn't need to see any other witches for money. It was a foolish thought, but one worth entertaining for the fantasy factor alone: cuckolding Ron and spending his money on her lover.

Hermione hoped that her anniversary night was going to go much better than the dinner party. It seemed pretty evident that nothing was keeping her and Ron together other than marital obligation, but she would wait as she had promised herself.

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

Severus noticed Miss Anne was beginning to stir. Putting down his book, he yawned and stood to stretch like a cat.

Sauntering over to the bed, he sat down next to her stirring form and stroked her back. “Have a nice nap?”

Miss Anne yawned with a snort, and rubbed her eyes like a sleepy child. “What time is it?” she asked groggily.

“It's one in the morning,” Severus informed her.

“What? How could you let me sleep that late?” the strawberry blond witch asked in a slightly panicked voice, as she bolted upright in bed. “I was supposed to meet some friends by midnight! Oh my God, I hope they are still there!” Miss Anne rambled to herself. She bolted from Severus' bed and began hastily putting on her clothes.

“I'm sorry,” Severus said with convincing sincerity. “Had I known, I would have woken you up earlier, but you fell asleep so quickly that I figured you must have needed the rest.”

“Damn!” she swore under her breath, as she fumbled with her zipper. “And I still didn't get a good shag in. Next week you'll have to make it up to me,” she said casually, demanding a rain check for an extra sexual interlude. “Gotta run,” Miss Anne announced before running out the door and slamming it shut when she left, not bothering to wait for Severus to show her out.

“Great,” Severus muttered to himself.

Severus had gotten out of one evening of fucking Miss Anne, but how was he going to keep this up? Miss Anne would get wise to the sleeping agent added to the massage oil soon enough, and then she would be demanding he shag her before a massage. He could just close his eyes and pretend it was Hermione, but he had been finding it hard to find the amorous inspiration to service Miss Anne even before he had come to the realization that he loved Hermione.

“I could always take the enhancement potion,” he noted aloud.

He imagined himself bored out of his mind while thrusting into Miss Anne. The gigolo had already done that one too many times. That scenario held no allure for him.

“Damn,” he mumbled.

Already figuring that it was Sunday morning, he counted the days in his head. “Eleven more days.” Eleven more days until Hermione's anniversary, and he would have his answer.

============

A/N: The Runic symbol for Wunjo (W or V) symbolizes: Joy, comfort, pleasure. Fellowship, harmony, prosperity. Ecstasy, glory, spiritual reward, but also the possibility of going "over the top". If restrained, the meaning is general success and recognition of worth. It is also the happy rune representing perfection or happiness. (http://www.uponreflection.co.uk/runeworld/freyas_eight.htm)
According to one of the plethora of baby name sites out there, Maurelle is an old French female name meaning “dark and elfin,” and Mendel is a French male's name meaning “makes garments.” I figured I could use the masculine name for a last name.
I must admit, I snagged this exchange from Benny Hill: “She had that dress with two big buttons.” “Those weren't buttons, those were your eyes!”
And a huge round of thanks to my betas and all their hard work (in reverse alphabetical order): JuneW, Horserider, and GinnyW. And a big hug and cheers to okonchristy (cocoachritsy) and GinnyW for being my sounding boards and for bouncing ideas around. Thanks to JuneW for the chapter title.

B/N: Hmmm…no idea what you have in mind for the next chapter, but maybe Hermione could send Severus an owl? I hate to think of her all cold and lonely on the couch… worse, we have a lovesick Severus home all alone now… ~Horserider
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After