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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
- 49
- 50
- 51
“And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“In the Name of the Subtle Science and Delicate Art”

Disclaimer:
Betz once loudly proclaimed
“These characters aren't mine, I disclaim!”
The lawyers sat back
Amused at the hack
And figured insanity was to blame

Instead of suing her ass
They left alone, the perverted lass
As long as she disclaimed
In a way that was lame
That she didn't own Potter, alas!

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

She was warm, comfortable, and feeling quite content. Hermione did not want to wake, but the cramping of her bladder roused her from that elusive state of peace that had escaped her for many weeks.

As her eyes opened, Mrs. Weasley was momentarily disoriented, wondering why she was cuddled up so close to her husband until she noticed her surroundings. She glanced at the wizard whom she had clung to in her sleep.

'Severus.'

Carefully propping herself up on one elbow so as not to wake him, she surveyed her lover as he slept. His eyes were closed, his mouth relaxed and slightly parted, and his face aglow in the golden light of the setting sun streaming through the window. Hermione marveled at the man she had once considered unattractive, but who now to her held an indescribable pulchritude that defied convention in her mind. She could have laid there next to him and studied his face and his form, and reflected back on their love-making until he woke, but she had other pressing matters.

With stealthy quiet, Hermione crept off to the toilet.

'I'm going to get a bladder infection. I just know it.' The few times she had neglected use the loo shortly after sex had resulted in a urinary tract infection that came like clockwork three days later. 'I should swing by the apothecary to pick something up before it becomes a problem.'

Hermione knew why she hadn't left Severus' bed after they finished: she had not wanted the sacred tenderness of the moment ruined by slipping out of his arms to take care of her bodily functions; that, and she had been so tired she had forgotten. After sex with Ron, she couldn't wait to escape to finish satisfying her own needs. There was no call for that with Severus.

Washing up, Hermione looked down at the spot on the cold tile floor where Severus had held her. Her heart swelled with something akin to the amorous adoration women feel when they know they are not only cherished, but protected by the one who loves them.

Did Severus love her? Hermione did not know. If he didn't, then why had he attacked her so venomously after his perceived rejection from her? The way he had yelled at her that she had basically rent his heart in two – though not in those exact words – made the witch wonder if it was a bruised ego or a bruised heart that was behind his verbal attack. 'Though an ego would not drive a man to make love to me in such a consuming manner,' she told herself.

Severus had taken final possession of Hermione's soul during their joining, making her ponder if this was what it was like to be in love with the person you were shagging. It frightened her that she could evoke such wrath in the wizard, but made her realize her responsibility where Severus' heart was concerned.

What frightened her even more was the fact that she had no remorse over finally sleeping with Severus. All these weeks of battling with her consciousness, and now she had not an ounce of regret or shame niggling at her conscience after the act. Though she was glad to have waited until her anniversary to continue with a clear conscience, part of her wondered why she hadn't just ended the façade sooner and avoided weeks of emotional turmoil. Was this a sign that she was sliding down the slippery slope of moral ambiguity? Or that her marriage to Ron no longer mattered at all? Perhaps both.

Sliding back into bed, she studied Severus some more. As they slept, they had somehow slipped under the covers, and Hermione regarded the uncovered portion of Severus' stomach and chest. There was a significant scar a couple inches under his left nipple, and a smaller one on the right side just below his collarbone. Hermione wanted to stroke the black hair dusted across his chest, but she refrained, not wanting to wake him. The Dark Mark on his arm stood out sharply, as black as ink on pale parchment. She decided she would not purposefully touch it unless she was invited to do so. It was that Mark that had brought Severus to his current predicament.

Suddenly she remembered her promise to him; he had asked and she had agreed, out of her love for him. Hermione would get him the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion. It was ironic that she had stolen from his stores to make a batch during her second year, and now he was asking her to obtain ingredients all these years later. Severus had said he wanted to be free of his semi-internment, and Hermione had wanted him to be free, though now she realized that to give him his freedom would equate to her losing him.

Did she really expect that an affair with Severus would last all eternity? In the intensity of the moment, it seemed that this was what was meant to be between them, a fusion of all the intangible qualities that constitute the whole of one's soul. That other persons had ever experienced this sort of absolute passion – and it was passion with all the suffering, lust, ardor, and enthusiasm that one could experience – made Hermione keenly aware of just how her own relationship with Ron lacked in so many more ways. She knew, of course, that there could be something more, but now she had experienced it and could compare her husband with her lover and know with whom her heart truly lay. Hermione had promised to give Severus the ingredients, sealing the fate of their future and the end of their time together.

Hermione did not want him to go, but she did not want him to stay if he was miserable. She wondered if Severus would have information in order for her to find some way to exonerate him, thus giving him the option to stay if he was no longer persecuted under the Death Eater Decree. Surely, if he was no longer forced to stay here and was given all the privileges back of a full wizard, he might stay. But if she had been similarly oppressed under false accusations, how likely was it that she would want to stay? She would like to leave as soon as possible too, if she were in a comparable situation.

Severus stirred and rolled over onto his side. As his arm reached out and touched Hermione, he woke with a start. His eyes flew open and focused on Hermione before he closed his eyes and relaxed with a sigh, resting his head back on his pillow. The last time he had woken up with a woman in his bed, he was married to her; nowadays, he certainly didn't let his clients stay in his bed while he slept.

He opened his eyes once more to see Hermione gazing intently at him, a slight smile playing upon her lips. Her eyes were still puffy from crying with dark circles from exhaustion, and her hair was a wild tangled mass. Objectively speaking, she was not exactly the most beautiful witch, but to Severus, she looked spectacular. There was a bright gleam in her eye, and her cheeks had a rosy hue that was attributable only to him. He had made the glow within her radiate and shine.

He smiled back at her, which only made her smile broaden. Reaching up, he placed his hand around her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Severus had missed kissing, but it was an act in which he had no one he wanted to bother sharing such an intimate part of himself. There was something to be said about the exchange of souls in a kiss, and though he was not one to put much weight into the folly of sentimentality or silly folklore, he had held that same belief in his own heart. And now he wanted to kiss her more. There was no more waiting; Hermione had made a decision and chosen him.

Letting him pull her to him, Hermione molded her body against his, still thrilled by the new sensation of his bare skin against hers. Her foot began rubbing up and down his calf, and her hand went to his chest. Languid kisses – that were more exploratory than a desire to quench some ardent fire – seemed to last for hours, but ended too soon – neither had to wait but a second until the other kissed back, unwilling to stop the exchange.

Hermione felt adventurous. Severus brought out a level of sexual confidence in her that she never knew she had. Well, that time they wound up dry-humping in the kitchen, then later on the settee, had given her a pretty good idea, but now was the time when there was no holding back. Pushing at his shoulder to lie back onto the bed, she trailed her mouth down Severus' jaw, feeling the rasp of his whiskers against her tongue. Farther down his neck, she could detect where the stubble ended and his soft skin began. She brushed her cheek against the hair of his chest, appreciating the softness of the black down.

Severus laid back and fully enjoyed Hermione's attentions. There was nothing sophisticated or suave in the way she delivered her ministrations, but the sheer honesty of her intentions made his head swim in a delirious cocktail of love-induced hormones. He was being seduced, made to feel as if he was the only wizard in the world – a dramatic change from his usual evening job.

“I wish you didn't have to go,” Hermione murmured, before kissing her way along his shoulder and arm, before licking at the skin at the crook of his elbow.

He heard her swallow thickly. Severus didn't want to go either, now that he had discovered that elusive ingredient of his own life, but he knew he could never be happy if he stayed in England just to be with Hermione. In time, he might even grow to resent her, if he decided to stick around. Here, he didn’t even have a half-life for himself, and certainly no respectable life to offer her.

“You understand why I must,” he simply said.

There was a pause before Hermione buried her face in his hand, kissing his palm to distract herself from the fact she was now crying again. She could not trust her own voice, so she whispered, “Yes.”

“If there was some way...” Severus stopped himself from saying if there was some way he could stay in England to be with Hermione, he might consider it. He and Draco had, during their four years of incarceration, examined and attempted to exploit every angle, chance, opportunity, opening, venture and gamble that could make them exempt from the decree. When their plea was rejected by the Wizengamot for review, they were left but with one avenue: escape, and only one method at that. “Trust me when I say that there is nothing that can make me stay in England…

“As long I bear this...”

Severus sat up and turned his left forearm for Hermione's scrutiny, showing her the blacked scar of the Dark Mark, like a brand, that was forever singed into the skin. When Voldemort fell the second and final time, he had ensured that none of his followers could ever deny being one of his servants, unlike after the first time.

“... I can never be free.”

Hermione sat up herself across from Severus on the bed. “Didn't Albus leave some sort of Pensieve or last testament or will to clear you from being lumped in with all the other Death Eaters?”

“You would think so, but the old fool never did, probably thinking he would live to see the end of the war. I never expected to see the end of it, but here we are.” Severus slumped forward and rested his forehead on the flat of his knuckles.

Crawling the short distance, Hermione placed her arms around him and began placing small pecks on his temple and crown. “I'm sorry. I know that sounds trite, but I truly am.” She stroked his hair, hoping it soothed Severus instead of irritating him.

Her gentle hand and light presses of her lips might seem like pity, but he knew it wasn't. It was consoling and the gesture calmed his troubled mind. Leaning into her touch, he reclined back against her until Hermione's back was pressed against the headboard and Severus was leaning against her, one arm thrown across her stomach and hip, his cheek pressed against her ribs. In the silence, she continued to stroke his brow, and he let his eyes close.

The quietude was broken when Hermione casually mentioned in a lighter tone, “Did Lavender really have to bribe you with money before you would see me?”

Severus internally cringed at the reminder of his vicious verbal attack earlier, and the mention of that little fact. “I'm sorry I said that.”

“But is it true?”

He puzzled over whether to tell Hermione the truth or diplomatically lie. This was no time for lies, as he had told her enough half-truths over the weeks to cover the whole truth. “Yes, though at the time I had no idea the sort of witch you had developed into.” Severus looked up to gauge Hermione's reaction, and was relieved she was smiling at him.

“I can't say I reacted any better when I figured out who you really were either. Shocked would be putting it mildly,” she confessed frankly.

“I guessed as much that night you flinched from my touch.”

Sighing deeply, she went back to stroking Severus' hair absentmindedly. “I suppose you could say I had trouble reconciling Calleo with Severus Snape.”

A comfortable silence lingered between them once more. Hermione kept playing with his hair, noting the weight and silkiness, while Severus nuzzled his cheek a little lower on her stomach.

“Is there another way?” Hermione asked. “Some other way than Polyjuice Potion?” She was aware of the restrictions on the ingredients, and now understood why Moody had Fudge pass them into law when the Death Eater Decree had come out.

“Trust me when I say that if I knew another way, I would have tried it.” He tried not to sound bitter, but failed.

Hermione began running through a list of ways she would try to escape the country if Voldemort had won. She had the list down pat in her head from years ago and began listing them off. “What about an airplane, or a ferry over to France?”

“You've taken care of that,” he merely noted, not explaining any further.

Hermione sheepishly replied, “Oh,” realizing the implication of his remark.

During the war, when it seemed like it was possible they just might win, Albus asked for a plan to be in place once Voldemort fell. One of the contingencies he asked for was to make sure the Death Eaters could not leave England in order to regroup in another country, like Albania or some other far-off locale. Hermione had come up with the idea to have Aurors put magical detectors into every airport with international destinations, and every port with a ferry that sailed to foreign lands. Every Muggle means in which to leave England was covered, even the trains through the Chunnel and private boats across the Channel. Even traveling into Scotland required a special dispensation by the Ministry, and those given out were few and far between. It was Hermione's thoroughness that had forced Severus into asking her for those particular Polyjuice Potion ingredients.

“Is that why Lavender sent me to you?” Hermione asked. “So that once you found out where I worked, you could ask me?”

“Something like that.” Severus really did not want to begin volunteering information regarding some aspects of their original arrangement, either with Hermione or Lavender.

“So why didn't you ask me for Polyjuice ingredients once you found out where I worked, instead of waiting all this time?”

Time passed as he wondered exactly how to answer that without sounding like the devious wizard he thought he was, or the lovesick man he had become during the whole phenomenon.

“After you found out who I was, you were shocked. Imagine how even more shocked and horrified you would have been to learn who I was after just a few weeks of seeing me?” he asked rhetorically.

“Point taken.” Her mind filled with visions of herself screaming and running out of his flat mortified beyond anything she had ever experienced.

“And just how exactly did you put the pieces together?” Severus inquired.

“I suppose all the clues were staring at me in the face, but I didn't want to see them. It took overhearing Moody and Kingsley to put it all together.”

Severus rose up off Hermione and looked her squarely in the eye, his gaze earnest and serious. “What do you mean, ‘overheard Moody and Kingsley?'”

Hermione related a condensed version of the event at Harry's birthday party, culminating in Moody saying that anyone who would employ Snape and Malfoy was not above his suspicion.

Severus suddenly remembered how he had snidely commented that this information wasn't something that one overheard at a social function. Flopping onto his back, he began laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Finally coming down off his moment of madness, Severus looked up to see Hermione looking at him quizzically, then relayed his own little ironic tale.

Hermione had a little chuckle over it before suddenly announcing, “I'm positively famished. I know you didn't plan on cooking, but is there anything to nibble on?”

Feeling a bit peckish himself, Severus rose from the bed and held out a hand, inviting Hermione to join him. Severus stood without a bit of self-consciousness over the state of his undress, or dishabille, as the case may be. Hermione rose from the bed as well, intertwining her fingers with his as they made their way to the kitchen, feeling slightly awkward at being completely nude.

Mrs. Weasley never walked around her own flat naked. She’d tried it once, but Ron's horrified reaction made her self-conscious about her body, so it never crossed her mind to do anything of the sort ever again. Now that she thought about it, she supposed it was her fear that someone might come over via Floo at the wrong moment that stopped her, that and the way Ron either leered at her or ignored her when she was undressed that stopped her from walking around au naturel.

An investigation of the larder revealed a small selection of cheeses, which Hermione put to good use laying over some day-old bread and setting it to bake in the oven, insisting she could help out in the kitchen once in a while.

Severus declined her offer to share and started making his own sandwich. While he sliced up some roast beef and added the little bit of cheddar that Hermione did not use up, he said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For warning Miss Brown, who in turn warned Draco and me about upcoming surprise inspections,” Severus explained. “As a matter of fact, yesterday was our first surprise inspection. We barely made it back before the Aurors showed up. I do hope that the Auror who was watching the building last night did not see you come or go.”

Hermione's knees felt a little weak, and she promptly sat down at the small table set with one chair. 'Oh God, please. I pray it wasn't Harry who was watching last night,' she hoped, remembering Ginny making mention of her husband working late. She could just imagine Ron’s reaction to a report of Hermione going in and out of a known bordello the night of their anniversary.

Sitting down across from her, his own sandwich in hand while Hermione's cheese on toast was still in the oven, Severus noticed her go a little pale. “Are you all right?”

Hermione wondered if she should lie. She had always been honest with Severus, sharing a level of confidence with him she had never given anyone before, but she wondered if it was prudent to share this particular concern. 'Well, if it was Harry, he would have approached me at work today, dragged me off to a pub, and demanded to know what I was doing going into Severus' flat last night. It couldn't have been Harry then.' “I just hope whoever was watching didn't recognize me, that's all.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if the building will be periodically watched from now on. I suggest that when you come and go, you use the Floo in the second floor flat,” Severus advised her.

“You have a Floo? I thought you couldn't have one under the decree?”

“I can't, but that doesn't stop Draco and me from having access to one in the building in Macnair’s old flat, and earlier today the Ministry approved to have it reconnected to the Floo Network. I think that is why they had a surprise inspection the other day. Now Draco and I can get to work without being followed.”

“So you do brew potions for Lavender,” Hermione incorrectly surmised.

“No, I consult on potions for Miss Brown. She and her labour force of house-elves brew them. I only research, give direction, and counsel on the potions Miss Brown is developing,” Severus corrected her.

“Oh, thank God!” Hermione declared with a relieved sigh. “I was hoping with all the potions we had discussed over my visits that you weren't doing anything that would violate the decree and land you in Azkaban.”

It touched Severus that Hermione cared so much for him that he should stay safe.

“So the natural lubrication potion I took earlier, that cologne, Haunt, those are all your creations?”

“Yes.”

“So why do you work as a gigolo in this... this...” Hermione was growing more and more incensed, flustered to find the right word to express her indignation that Severus should work as some male prostitute when he was doing perfectly good work as a Potions master “.... this... SERAGLIO!”

“I'd hardly call this a Turkish harem,” he jested lightly.

“That's beside the point. If Voldemort had won, I would find it very debasing to have to whore myself out to any wizard that came along!”

Severus did not take to her turn of the phrase, but that was exactly what he had been doing. But how was a wizard supposed to tell his lover that men don't necessarily mind having lots of sex with anonymous women, while raking in large sums of money in the process?

“It's not debasing if I get to pick and choose, rejecting any witch I don’t want from entering my bed,” he said firmly.

“So you enjoy it?” Hermione asked, trying not to sound shrewish. 'Of course he liked it. What man wouldn't enjoy lots of beautiful women paying him to have sex with them.' She could feel the burning hot jealousy churn in her stomach, ruining her appetite.

He did not want to get into an argument over an issue they had already addressed, and Hermione admitted she could eventually deal with. Still, Hermione was not a client; she was his lover, his love. “At first, of course I did. It had been a long time since I had any, but in time, I have grown bored with it all,” he snapped at her.

Hermione looked at him with an odd look in her eye and he suddenly realized the gravity of his faux pas. Instead of replying, she just stood up and retrieved her cheese on toast from the oven, having no interest in eating it now.

Once she had set her snack on a plate, Severus went up behind her, pressing his body lightly against hers, his hands placed on the counter, trapping her where she stood. “That's not what I meant,” he murmured into her hair, hoping she understood exactly what he meant. “What I meant to say was until you came along...” How could he say this without professing his love, though he supposed he had come damn near close to it earlier when he screamed at her. “It is a job that I must do in order to make the Ministry think I am working at a... profession – that they are willing to turn a blind eye to – that supports the manner in which I live. By day I consult for Miss Brown secretly, by night I entertain witches who need a little companionship. You, however, are not a client anymore, nor an obligation to perpetuate this façade. I choose to see you; I long to have you in my company and in my bed.”

There. That was enough to tell her without flat-out saying, 'I love you.'

Hermione turned around and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her wet face into his bare chest. “Oh, Severus. I'm sorry. I'm being silly, and I'm still tired, so I'm not thinking clearly. I'm behaving like some stupid, jealous cow.” She knew Severus slept with other witches, but it still didn't stop the fact she wanted him all for herself.

Severus debated whether to tell her that since she had re-entered his life, he had gone from three shags a week down to one, but he thought otherwise. If his lover was jealous over an unknown number of witches, she would still be jealous of just one client who frequented his bed. He pulled her closer, and with one hand, grabbed her snack. Encouraging her to sit and eat, he sat back down himself to finish his sandwich.

Hermione wanted to know how long Severus had been working for Lavender, but figured that was a question for another time. Now she needed to know which ingredients Severus wanted and how she could help him. “So, Polyjuice Potion... that's really the only way?” Severus nodded gravely and took a swig of lemonade. “How exactly do I figure into your plan?”

Severus sat back and regarded Hermione sitting across from him, nude, perched on the edge of her seat while daintily grazing on her snack. “Since you work in the Department of S&R, you test small amounts of Potion ingredients that come in through Ministry customs every day. I figured, of the restricted ingredients that come through, you could just happen to take a small extra sample for testing and smuggle it out.”

“You really think it would be that easy?” Hermione replied with a question.

“I worked in that position for some months prior to my Potions apprenticeship,” he informed her, with an arch of his brow to let Hermione know empathetically that he knew of what she was complaining about all these weeks about the mindlessness of the job. “I know exactly how easy it will be now that Marge is no longer working there. Since you are senior to Mr. Spawn, and you always show up before him and leave long after he has already left for the day, you'll have complete privacy in the lab in which to garner an extra sample. For recording purposes, you could claim that due to a quick bout of stomach flu, or some other viable excuse, you had to walk away from the testing procedure, thus ruining an extra sample. In order to cover your tracks, and so you can't be traced to those specific ingredients only, you'll have to fake a few more ruined ingredient tests.”

“I think I can do that,” Hermione agreed, deep in thought. “But if you can't brew the Polyjuice Potion, I guess that means I'll have to do it.”

“No, Ginny will be doing it.” He kept his eyes fixed on the pattern in the china when he said, “You'll be staying behind after I'm gone. I don't want you to do any more than you have to, as the Aurors will be trying to figure out how Draco and I left the country. If or when they figure out it's Polyjuice Potion, you might be questioned.”

Hermione's stomach sank. She had forgotten Ginny's promise that if Malfoy ever found a way out of the country, that she would go with him gladly and willingly. Now, Hermione desperately hoped Harry never discovered any connection between her and Severus, for he would figure out she was instrumental in Ginny leaving him. Harry may be brash, impetuous, and quick to rush to judgment, but he could be extremely perceptive and insightful at times. She did not want to be the sword that cut the Gordian knot of Ginny and Harry's marriage, but if her redheaded friend was only biding her time before she could leave Harry, then Hermione knew that she herself was only an instrument on the inevitable course of events.

“Ginny will be going too, won't she?” Hermione inquired rhetorically.

“Yes, she will,” Severus agreed. “I tried to convince Draco that she should come at another time after the uproar of our disappearance has settled down, but neither of them would hear of it.”

'It is true then. Ginny and Severus are friends.' It was one thing to contemplate, but to hear Ginny's name roll off Severus tongue without resorting to her formal title only cemented the idea in her mind. It was a hard concept to wrap her mind around, but it still seemed like some far-fetched notion.

“Where will you go once you leave England?”

Severus had not quite figured out if he should tell her or not. Maybe in time, before he left, he might tell her, but knowledge could be pried from one unsuspectingly. Knowing the fact that Ginny would be leaving Potter, it might be best to say as little as possible to Hermione, or Potter might offer Hermione a friendly cup of tea with an intentional dribble of Veritaserum. “We'll be seeking sanctuary.”

“Greece?”

“Perhaps,” he answered vaguely.

Hermione wanted to know, but knew the danger of divulging too much, too soon.

“Do you need me to get all the ingredients, or only the restricted ones?” she asked.

Severus gently shook his head. “Just the restricted ones. Ginny will purchase the non-restricted ingredients from different apothecaries, so no one would think twice to notice a witch buying lace-wing flies or leeches at another. It's the Boomslang skin, Bicorn horn, and fluxweed picked during a full moon that we need.”

“Well, the Boomslang skin shipments have started coming in. I tested the first shipment of the season today. They usually come about once a week from the current supplier. Powdered Bicorn horn comes in at least once a month from a couple of suppliers.”

“Where are the shipments coming in from for the Bicorn?” Severus asked.
“Turkey, China, India, and we just started getting shipments from the steppes of Russia, near the Ukrainian border.”

Severus nodded, and placed his curled-up hand against his lower lip. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “Try and get the Turkish Bicorn horn if you can. Sometimes I've found Bicorn horn from those other places is not quite as potent.”

“Actually, the stuff coming in from Russia has a higher potency than the Turkish. Since we started receiving shipments from Russia two years ago, my tests have shown a more evenly ground powder than the Turkish,” Hermione informed him with confidence in her knowledge of suppliers.

“I've never tried the Russian Bicorn horn. When I was in the department a long time ago, there was very little being shipped out of Russia for trade.”

“Since the fall of Communism, the quality of a lot of the stuff coming out of there is quite good. There is always the witch or wizard who tries to make a quick Galleon by selling imitation ingredients, or cutting them down with common things like flour or cinnamon or dirt,” Hermione said, as Snape nodded his head in agreement, remembering coming across those same problems himself. “I mean, there was this one supplier from Greece, the Damocles Brothers.”

“No! Not them,” interrupted Snape. “They were trying to pass off safflower as native saffron when I worked there.”

Hermione groaned and laughed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “They recently tried passing off enlarged eagle feathers as roc feathers.”

Severus' mouth hung open in disbelief for a brief second. “No!”

Hermione nodded and laughed once more. “We finally got them banned from importing anything for the next five years.”

He smiled and sat back in his chair, glad that Hermione was the one to catch them. “It's about time. I think those wizards have tried to falsify just about every ingredient over the years. When I was teaching at Hogwarts, they sent me these letters about direct shipping to Hogwarts and bypassing Ministry red tape, but I knew better. They knew their stuff wouldn't hold up to Ministry standards.”

They sat there looking at each other, finding comfort in the bonding of a common experience beyond the walls of Severus’ flat that did not involve the Order or Hogwarts.

Thinking this might be a good way to bring the subject up, Severus began, “Since we are talking about Potions and ingredients, there will be a position for a new Potions apprentice with the new Potions master who will be taking my place after I'm gone.”

Hermione began to choke on her food. After swallowing what she had in her mouth, she washed it down quickly with some lemonade. “You mean... I'm going to get an apprenticeship?” she asked with surprise and disbelief. “Potions apprenticeship?”

Severus nodded, feeling a warm glow inside himself at the way her face lit up with the news. “Yes, I prepared a few things for my departure. Albert Dobmeir will be taking over my position at Lavender's company as the new Potions master. I made the acceptance of you as his apprentice part of his contract. As soon as I leave, you'll have a new job, and with pay.”

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Severus helped her to not only get a Potions apprenticeship, but one with pay. In her excitement, she leapt up and ran around the small table. Throwing herself into Severus' lap, Hermione hugging him and began peppering his face with kisses in appreciation of his efforts.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she squealed, placing a kiss on his face in between each thanks.

Humming in appreciation of her gratitude, Severus' hands began to roam Hermione's hips and bottom, stroking the flesh as her kisses slowed down to become less rushed and more intimate. His hand reached up and cupped one breast. Her fingers slipped through his hair and began playing the back of his neck.

Severus began to stiffen again, and soon his arousal was nudging at Hermione's bottom. Feeling him harden against her skin, Hermione stood up and straddled Severus' lap, only to discover her feet didn't quite reach the floor when sitting astride in the kitchen chair.

“Maybe we can go back out to the other room?” Hermione suggested, trying not to feel awkward at her own sensuous enthusiasm.

Severus lightly tapped her hip to encourage her to get up before he could. They walked back to the main room without saying a word. Hermione headed to the bed, but Severus stopped and pulled her hand in another direction, leaning his head towards the settee.

“Can we open up a window? It's a bit stuffy in here,” Hermione commented as Severus sat down, beckoning her to straddle him.

Severus summoned his wand and opened the window. There was a beautiful view of the setting sun over the London skyline. In addition to the cool summer breeze that drifted in was the sound of some man grunting like a pig, alternating with some sort of weird whooping noise.

“What the...?” Hermione broke off her comment, listening to the odd noises of someone having sex from someplace near by, like another floor. She started to laugh, as the noises were just plain ridiculous. “Who sounds like that during sex?” she asked with a giggle.

“You'd be surprised at the sounds some people make during sex,” muttered Severus darkly.

“Like…?” Hermione prompted him, wanting at least a little information.

“Try the sound of a rabbit being slaughtered,” he replied before doing a rather good imitation of Mrs. Nettleton during an orgasm. Hermione laughed, clutching at her sides. “You know, laughter is not conducive to sex,” Severus remarked dryly, looking down at his deflating erection.

Before Hermione could say she would stop laughing and preserve the situation, the man off in the distance gave a great howl, as if he was doing a perfect imitation of a werewolf. Severus and Hermione looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“It sounds like someone is shagging a were-pig/monkey/wolf,” Hermione snorted, unable to catch her breath, Severus joining in on the mirth.

When they caught their breaths, they were sitting next to each other, smiling at each other. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she laughed with Ron or had so much fun in or out of bed.

As Hermione leaned across the settee to kiss Severus, he thought to send a note to Blaise later telling him the next time he has a client that noisy to close the window or ask his client to put up a Silencing Charm so as not to broadcast their activities to the rest of the neighborhood.

With his hand at her hip, Severus nudged Hermione to go back to straddling him as he originally planned. He had dreamt of having Hermione just like this; just then, a thought occurred to him.

He pulled his mouth away from Hermione reluctantly, and asked, “Would you care to help me with a Potions experiment?” He arched a brow in a suggestive manner.

She sat back on his thighs and gave a look that bordered on playful indifference and earnest curiosity. “What did you have in mind?”

Without a word said, Severus flicked his wand, and an unmarked vial flew out of his bedside drawer and straight into his hand. “I have here what could be one of the most successful potions The Lovely Lavender Company would ever make.”

“What is it?” Now she looked at the vial, her interest definitely piqued.

“Remember that little talk we had about brewing large quantities of a potion and you suggested those brewing kettles?” She nodded. “Well, we haven't gone into production, as the kettle is being installed next week, but once it is, we'll be brewing about four hundred gallons of this stuff a week, and charging it at a price of what the market will bear.”

Hermione was practically bouncing up and down on his lap, squirming with brimming inquisitiveness. “Come on, tell me!” she begged.

Severus rather liked the way her breasts jiggled when she was excited like this. “It's a male performance enhancement potion. It allows a wizard to keep on going as long as he wants, instead of being forced to stop after one orgasm to rest.”

“You mean,” Hermione said, leaning forward on his lap and eyeing the Potion with keen interest, “if you drink this, you can keep going and going?” As tired as she was, Hermione was definitely interested in more sex with Severus that night, as much as she could get.

“Well, the thing is, I have six different levels of strength. Miss Brown originally brewed a potion that stewed for forty-eight hours, but the effect was minor. A seventy-two hour batch proved to be too strong, as I was barely able to move the next day, having strained myself too much.”

Hermione was suddenly overtaken with a wave of jealousy knowing he had to have tested this Potion out on other witches to know the effectiveness of each batch. She swallowed her jealousy, trying to push it out of her mind, knowing that it would only ruin the moment if she fixated on it.

“And so you are trying various strengths to find the right level?”

“Yes. I'm trying batches brewed at fifty, fifty-four, fifty-eight, sixty-two, sixty-six, and seventy hours. Six different batches. And I would like to begin trying these different potency gradients with you. Care to help a Potions master with a little experiment?”

Hermione leaned forward again, and rubbed her nose against the tip of his and whispered, “I would love to help my lover in his quest for knowledge, in the name of the subtle science and delicate art that it is.”

He didn't know why, but there was a level of eroticism that he could mix sexual pleasure with research at the same time with Hermione. His thumb on the cork, he popped it off and downed the potion quickly.

The result was instantaneous. Hermione felt Severus spring to life between her thighs. His head was now eagerly nudging at her opening. The sensation of him there, between her labia, aroused her such that she could feel the effects of the natural lubrication potion kick in once more.

“How long does the lubrication potion last?” she asked with a sigh as she reached down and began stroking Severus while rubbing the tip of his cock against her clitoris.

Palming a breast while craning his neck forward to begin licking one nipple, he answered, “Three hours.”

Hermione glanced at the clock on the mantle and figured she took the lubrication potion well over an hour ago.

“And how long do you think your potion would last?” she asked, her breath hitching in the middle of her sentence as Severus bit lightly down on one nipple while bringing the other one to a rigid peak with his fingers.

“Could be one hour, could be three. That's why we're testing it out,” he mumbled around her rosy flesh.

“Good,” she sighed just before removing her hand and impaling herself upon him.

They both threw their heads back and groaned aloud in unison. Severus' hands slipped from her breasts to her hips and began to guide her up and down. He planted his feet on the floor for traction, occasionally lifting his hips up off the couch to slam up into Hermione when she was about to lower herself down again.

Hermione's hands grasped at the back of the settee for balance. Her breasts swung freely in Severus' face, occasionally bumping against his face while matching the rhythm of her movements up and down, to and fro and a combination of them. His hands stroked her thighs, up her ribs, to her breasts to sweep back down to her hips. He finally reached around, and grabbed her buttocks to spread her open so that he could drive himself deeper into her, as well as hold Hermione still as she thrust up quickly from underneath. She wailed loudly, as she felt that she might just about orgasm, but before she could reach that precipice again, Severus slowed down and encouraged Hermione to move back up and down once more.

Sitting on his lap, Hermione began to rotate her hips around clockwise then anticlockwise, enjoying the feel of Severus' cock rubbing every corner of her canal, rubbing at that elusive spot when she twisted her hips just so. Hermione began experimenting in different motions in a way she never felt comfortable with Ron. Rocking her hips back and forth while still firmly pressed against Severus' hips, watching his reaction as he shut his eyes and groaned sweetly about how good it felt just like that. Soon Hermione's knees began to get a bit sore from the repetitive motion on the unforgiving settee, and she requested a different position.

Obliging, Severus lifted her up and swung her around, placing her arse on the edge of the settee. He attempted to do this without slipping out of her, and almost accomplished it, but not quite.

Hermione decided that there was something rather wanton about spreading her legs wide open and lazily stroking her labia not only for her pleasure, but for Severus' viewing enjoyment while he positioned himself just before sliding back into her.

As much as she loved the friction of Severus moving in and out of her, the settee left much to be desired in the way of comfort when she was on the bottom. For some reason in her fantasy, it was much more agreeable with her back and neck. Perhaps it was just the mental image of her getting fucked on such a refined piece of furniture that was more erotic than the way her neck protested over the hard back. After a few changes in position, Hermione got fed up and Transfigured the couch into something much larger and softer, with plump cushions to place under her hips, and large well-padded rolled arms.

Severus, relieved that Hermione was finally satisfied with the furniture, grabbed her, flipped her over and positioned her on her hands and knees with her hands braced on the couch’s arm. Teasing her with the tip of his cock, he enjoyed the sight of Hermione's back arching to invite him to enter her once more. The way her tangled hair spilled down her back, resting between her shoulder blades and spilling over the sides, the way her back flared out from her waist, the curve of her hips to her rounded bottom… she was as beautiful to gaze upon from the back as from the front.

“Please stop teasing and take me again,” Hermione pleaded sweetly.

He obliged by slamming into her roughly, which made Hermione arch her back even more, tossing her hair about. As the backs of her thighs slapped against the front of his, Severus placed one hand on her hip to guide their pace; the other hand moved to play with her hair, stroking it, playing with it.

Hermione could not get enough of this. She knew she was probably going to be sore as hell and walking funny, but this was everything sex should have been but wasn't until this day. She wanted to make up for lost time, for all those years with Ron when sex was more like a dry chore, instead of the hungry feast of two lovers devouring each other gluttonously until sated with exhaustion. She picked up that pace, pushing back faster and harder against Severus' thrusts.

Severus leaned forward and reached around to stroke Hermione's clitoris, kissing her shoulder and back with light nips of his teeth. His other hand moved up from her hip to her breasts and cupped the left one, still guiding their pace with his arms. She was supporting his weight on her back, and she loved the feel of him pressing his whole body against hers; she never wanted to leave this position ever.

“I'm so close,” Hermione breathed.

Severus stopped and pulled himself out. His lover began to protest about his withdrawal from her, until he wet two fingers and began to stroke her. Hermione leaned forward on the couch and sighed, feeling his fingers explore before sliding into her.

“Now, some women actually feel greater pleasure when their G-spot is stroked in this position than on their back,” he informed her in a rather clinical voice, as if explaining the benefits of collecting roots of a potion during a new moon.

As his finger stroked the place he was searching for, Hermione sucked in her breath. It was not only better, but more intense. “Keep doing that,” she whinged.

“So does that mean it is more pleasurable than on your back?” Severus asked in a bored tone, keeping the rhythm slow and even.

Thoughts that he was a sadistic bastard by distracting her with pointless questions at the wrong moment flashed through her mind. Fortunately for him, she was unable to give him the proper retort at the moment, as she was mewling and doing her best to concentrate on the orgasm that was quickly approaching, building within her quicker than she ever expected.

Her voice in a rising pitch, the only thing she could choke out was, “A little faster.”

Severus took his thumb and roughly rubbed her clitoris as he stroked her a little faster and was rewarded with a harsh cry, muffled by Hermione placing her face into a pillow and bucking wildly against his hand. Just as Hermione protested once more at the removal of her source of pleasure, Severus slid his cock back into her and began fucking with a force and speed where it felt like her bones were being shaken loose with the force of his thrusts.

Hermione's orgasm returned and she shut her eyes tight, riding it out for as long as her body would feel this paralyzing indulgence. Severus knew he would come again and again as long as the potion lasted, so he allowed himself to come. With a groan, he placed his forehead in the middle of Hermione's back and held tight as his body shuddered from the intensity of his orgasm. He knelt behind Hermione stock-still, unable to do anything except feel himself empty into her.

Suddenly, Hermione had the rather urgent need to use the bathroom and she tightened her muscles, which resulted in Severus gasping harshly. It felt like his brain was going to explode. Hermione tightening around him intensified the sensation of his orgasm, and he whimpered incoherently. No witch had ever done that to him while in the middle of an orgasm, and while it increased the pleasure, it was almost too much.

When his orgasm subsided, Severus weakly collapsed onto the couch, gasping roughly. Hermione made a quick apology and trotted off to the bathroom.

Upon returning, she curled up next to him, and apologized. “Sorry, but I suddenly had the urge to go to the loo.”

One dark eye opened, much to the protest of its tired owner, and regarded her. “You really know how to kill a bloke.” But as soon as the words left his mouth, Severus felt the potion working as his strength returned as well as his erection.

“What do you mean?” Hermione caught sight of “little” Severus standing at attention once more. “That was quick. Is that you naturally or the potion?”

“Both.” Severus rolled on top of Hermione, feeling the base instinct to bury himself into her once more. “Just when I came, you tightened around me. That was overpowering, to say the least.”

Hermione moved her legs to allow Severus to settle between her legs once more, and felt him nudge himself back into her again. This time the movements were small and languid. They continued talking while making love at this leisurely pace.

“You mean like this?” Hermione tightened her pelvis muscles once more, watching as Severus closed his eyes in enjoyment.

“Exactly. But when you did that as I came, it was far more intense.”

“Really? I'll have to remember that little trick,” she replied with a mischievous smile upon her lips.

“What? And use it on your husband?” Severus had just broken one of his cardinal rules of mentioning the other wizard during sex, but he had been breaking a lot of rules with Hermione.

Hermione turned her face away from Severus, suddenly remembering she was married. “No,” she said thickly. She turned her face back to look up at Severus who was resting on his elbows, gazing down at her, his black hair hanging down and swaying gently with each movement of his hips. “Just you, Severus.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye and she hoped he wouldn't see it. She had cried enough, and she was happy now. There should only be laughter and happiness now, not tears.

The lone tear did not escape his attention. He bent down and kissed Hermione tenderly, suddenly feeling a swelling of more indecipherable emotions within his chest.

They made love over the next few hours, taking breaks periodically. One was for Hermione's soreness, which was solved with a special ointment which took the rawness away; another was for more liquid refreshment as they were both becoming quite thirsty with all their strenuous activity. Finally, after christening the couch and bed a few more times, they both lay spent and sweaty on the bed.

“I think I'm bowlegged,” Hermione groaned lethargically.

“And I think I could sleep for a week,” Severus chimed in.

“What strength potion was that? How many hours did it brew?”

“Seventy hours.”

“That was the strongest dose of the six?”

Severus grunted that her guess was correct.

Hermione looked at the clock. “It lasted two and a half hours. Definitely will make a fortune with this potion.” A big silly grin plastered on her face, Hermione turned her head to look at Severus, who equally regarded her with a lazy smile on his lips.

“Let's hope so,” he breathed, closing his eyes, feeling sleep threatening to over take him for the second time that evening. “You're getting five percent of the royalties.”

Two large brown eyes were suddenly staring at the ceiling overhead, looking very alert. “What do you mean, I'm getting five percent of the royalties?”

Rolling onto his side, he threw a possessive arm over Hermione's stomach. “You helped me come up with that brewer's kettle idea. If it wasn't for that, we couldn't afford to brew a potion that needs to simmer for so long. It wouldn't be cost-effective otherwise,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Um… what sort of profits are you looking at, Severus?”

“Fifty percent.”

Hermione could tell he was drifting off and asked quickly, “How much do you think that will be sold?”

“Mmmmm... The kettle holds two hundred gallons, so that's four hundred Galleons a week, one ounce per vial, four Galleons a vial.” Severus hummed, feeling himself drop off and unable to think any longer.

'Four hundred gallons, multiplied by one hundred twenty-eight ounces in a gallon, that's... 51,200 vials a week. Multiply that by two Galleons per vial for profit, that's 102,400 Galleons a week, and five percent of that would be...' Hermione bolted upright in bed. 'That can't be right.'

Rising from the bed quietly, so as not to disturb Severus who had rolled onto his back and was snoring very lightly, Hermione began to look for parchment to do the numbers by hand. When she realized that there was no paper, ink, or quill handy – short of rummaging around in areas she had not been invited to, Hermione threw on Severus' shirt to cover herself and went into the kitchen.

Whispering quietly, she called out, “Marf?”

The little house-elf popped up next to Hermione with a beaming smile, which bordered on maniacal. “Yes, Miss! Oh, I is so happy you returned! Master Severus will no longer destroy his home again like after you left last night.” He began shaking his head as large tears began to fall. “So angry, so hurt, so sad, so drunk. But now you is back, I'm sure he is happy now! I even clean your cloak you left last night.”

Hermione had no idea that Severus had destroyed his flat last night, and now felt doubly worse for leaving him then, but things had been resolved and she could worry about it another time.

“Um, yes. Can you get me some parchment, quill, and ink, Marf?” she asked politely.

Marf glared at her sternly. “You is not leaving my master again, with only a note? I do not like having to fix holes in walls. Poor Master destroyed his favorite chess table. Marf could not fix that. Bad Marf!” The house-elf began hurting himself as punishment and Hermione stopped the creature.

“No, Marf. I'm not leaving. I just need to figure out some numbers on paper, that's all,” she explained.

Marf quickly returned with the requested items. As Hermione sat down to begin the calculations, Marf beamed brightly at her. “Does Miss want anything else to eat? Are you thirsty?”

Hermione was still a bit parched after all that screaming, moaning, and shrieking, and asked for a glass of lemonade and a small sandwich of whatever was available to eat.

As she wrote the numbers on the paper, dividing and multiplying, she was afraid her original calculations were correct.

“Holy shit!” Hermione whispered to herself.

She stared at the number unable to comprehend how it could be correct, but knowing the number was. Still, 5,120 Galleons a week for her share was an astronomical figure; that was over a quarter million Galleons a year. Her meager five percent royalty would far outstrip anything Ron could earn, even as one of the most well-paid Quidditch stars in the world and with the broom company endorsement. It bordered on obscene.

Dazed, Hermione walked back to the bed and laid down beside Severus, who rolled back onto his side and grabbed her like a giant doll to cuddle in his sleep. And did all potions reap this sort of profit or was it just this one?

Just as she forced her mind to settle down and she started to drift off to sleep, the were-pig/monkey/wolf started up again. The sound drifted through the still open window, and Hermione broke into a fit of giggles that woke Severus up.

“Will somebody please shove a sock into that man's mouth, or at least cast a Silencing Spell? I wish Blaise would do something to shut him up.” Severus grumbled into Hermione's hair.

Hermione, who was laughing, suddenly stopped laughing and asked, “Blaise? As in Blaise Zabini?” Severus grunted an affirmative. “How do you know it's him?”

“Because he lives one floor up.”

Hermione laid there for a moment processing the image: Blaise Zabini working as a gigolo – which she assumed since both Malfoy and Severus were gigolos also. It was odd enough comprehending Severus and Malfoy in that profession, but Zabini? And with another wizard?

“How do you know it's not Blaise making that noise? How do you know it's another wizard?” she asked, not knowing what to expect for an answer.

“You live below someone for over three years, you know certain habits, and howling like some deranged animal is not one of them. It must be some client of his, and they haven't thrown up a Silencing Charm. The wizard must get off on being loud and letting everyone hear it,” Severus replied with mild disgust that he had to suffer the whims of another's fetish.

The wizard above them came to orgasm, keening and shouting hoarsely, “Taking it like a dirty bitch,” followed by a repetitive series of “Oh yeah!” and culminating in another howl signaling his climax.

“Poor Zabini must be deaf by now,” Hermione said, in between snorting and laughing into her pillow. “I had no idea Zabini was gay.”

“He's not. He plays both sides of the Quidditch pitch,” Severus informed her with indifference.

Hermione stopped and looked curiously at her lover.

Severus, who still had his eyes closed, said, “No, I do not sleep with other wizards.”

“But, I...” 'How did he know I was just thinking that?' “I didn't say anything.”

“No, but I could sense that the question was on your mind. On to more pleasant subjects.” Though Severus was not homophobic, like most other strictly heterosexual men, he did not like to dwell on that particular subject any longer than necessary. “So when will the next shipment of Bicorn horn be arriving?”

Finally remembering when the last shipment was due in, Hermione answered, “There should be one by the end of the month.”

“With the Boomslang coming in once a week, and Bicorn horn coming in by the end of the month, all we need now is the fluxweed picked during a full moon,” Severus said plainly. “When is the next shipment of that coming in? Shouldn't be too long as that stuff grows like a weed.”

Hermione's stomach suddenly felt queasy. Groaning, she closed her eyes and buried her face into her pillow.

“Hermione?” Severus nudged her gently. “What are you not telling me?”

“The fluxweed,” she mumbled into her pillow.

“What about it?” The tension was clearly evident in his voice, wondering if the Fates had another trick up their sleeve to muck up his life with. Things were going easy now, of course something had to happen to screw it all up.

Lifting her head from the pillow, she said, “I can't believe I forgot about the fluxweed, well, not forgot but...” She trailed off, almost sheepish in her remorse for not getting to the point right away. “You know how almost all fluxweed is grown in the United States, as it is native to the eastern area of the country?”

“Yes,” he replied tentatively, wondering what bad news Hermione was about to deliver.

“Well, it seems that where most of the growing grounds are, they have been experiencing their wettest year on record. A lot of the fields where they grow have been washed out; or what little harvest there is, is just pure slime, rotting from all the rain. We've only received two shipments this year, and they were small ones at that. There is a shortage. It's in all the ingredient trade papers. I'm surprised you didn't read about it.”

Severus had been reading about the rains on the east coast of the United States affecting growing conditions of certain potion ingredients, but it had escaped his attention that it would apply to fluxweed too, since that was not an ingredient The Lovely Lavender Company has use for in any of its products. He was too exhausted to groan or sigh or be frustrated at every obstacle in the road towards his freedom, so he just lay there staring at the ceiling.

Hermione sensed his distress and rubbed his shoulder, hoping it would show a bit of support and solidarity. “There is a full moon coming up on September tenth. They suspect that if things go well, there might be a shipment in from North Carolina or Virginia by the end of September after drying and processing it. They've replanted the fields and are hoping for a crop. It'll be a small crop, but considering the prices are going up, they will be charging a small fortune for it. So I can only pull out what is absolutely necessary.” This didn't seem to console Severus much, so she continued telling him as much as she knew about future shipments coming in. “And then there is also talk of a few growers in Georgia who planted some too, to make up for the shortage, and they should have a crop in by Halloween.”

“When is the last full moon of the season?” Severus asked gravely.

“November ninth.” Hermione watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

If no fluxweed arrived before the end of the season, Severus knew he would have to wait until next year for shipments to resume in the summer. If it was a perennial plant, this would not be an issue, but as fluxweed was an annual, one could only grow and harvest as the seasons allowed. 'Another year. So close, and now foiled by Mother Nature and her temperament.'

“When did the last shipment come in?” Severus asked.

“Mid-July.” Hermione's heart sank as she realized that if Severus had just asked her sooner for the ingredients, she could have gotten some fluxweed from that shipment. With the Boomslang shipment arriving this past week, Ginny could have begun brewing the Polyjuice Potion that day. Now Severus' departure would be delayed by at least another month. And as much as Hermione wanted Severus to be free, she did not want him to leave her so soon after they had finally cast all their pretenses aside.

Severus cursed at himself for his delay in confessing his original needs with Hermione; however, without the delay, he would not have grown to know Hermione, nor be lying next to her after making love as he was at that moment. So he would merely stay another month longer than expected. Since Hermione's arrival back into his life, his caged life had become quite a bit more tolerable, so there was some compensation for the delay.

“I will get you that fluxweed picked during a full moon. Lie, beg, steal, or smuggle it into the country, I will get it for you, Severus,” she told him with earnest sincerity.

Cupping her cheek, he regarded her face set with that deterministic look. Severus could not put name to the feelings swelling inside of his chest. It was not merely love, but something unnamable as it was equally intangible. He felt cared for in a way that he had rarely experienced in his life. It was not merely a reciprocal act for his usefulness to another, but the sheer altruistic kindness that Hermione radiated that awed him.

Uncomfortable with these unfamiliar feelings, Severus rose from the bed and suggested a shower; something to do other than lie in bed and contemplate his growing feelings for Hermione seemed preferable at the moment.

They spoke little as Hermione soaped his back and Severus washed her hair. Both of their minds were preoccupied with thoughts about fluxweed, freedom, the Death Eater Decree, and the fact that whatever they might share would be brief, ending when Severus left England, most probably never to return.

Hermione felt weary to the bone as she sat down on the bed. It was late. Without a word, Hermione began picking up her clothes that were strewn about the floor, placing them on the bed before getting dressed.

“Stay.” Severus placed his hand atop Hermione's as she reached for her knickers. He noticed that he’d left a small love bite on the top of her shoulder, and used his wand to remove it. It seemed leaving his mark upon Hermione was another rule he had broken, as he made a point of never leaving evidence on other witches, especially married ones.

With her back towards him as she sat on the edge, she turned and glanced over her shoulder at her lover. Sitting there atop the bed was Severus, his skin freshly washed and dried, hair still damp with drops of moisture collecting at the end of clumped tendrils. She wanted nothing more than to just crawl under the covers with him and sleep in his bed all night, never to emerge for the rest of her life, living the rest of her days in this flat by his side, making love, talking, and laughing. But Severus' flat was merely a temporary sanctuary from the real world for her, and she knew she had to leave this enchanted place where time sped by too fast for her liking, and go back home to her husband and her other life.

“I can't stay,” she choked out. “I wish I could.” There was a Floo connection two floors down. All she had to do was Floo Ron and say she was staying the night at her parents’. Her mother almost never Flooed Hermione at the flat, or she could owl Ron. However, she knew she had to go home; it was the right thing to do. Guilt pushed her to begin putting her clothes back on.

Severus knew she had to go, but he had to ask. Now that he had Hermione in his bed, he did not want her to leave it. The only witch he had ever asked to stay, and she could not.

“Come tomorrow morning.” It wasn't a command, nor a plea, but sounded as a suggestion. Severus did not want to be the one who needed her emotionally more than she needed him.

Hermione shook her head. “I can't. I have to go to the farmers’ market, and then I have Ron's game tomorrow. After the game is Percy's birthday party at the Burrow.” She did not see Severus momentarily cringe at the mention of the Burrow. Twisting at the waist to look back at Severus again, she asked, “Sunday?”

If it wasn't for the fact that he was at his bare minimum number of clients, he would ask Miss Brown to cancel his Sunday night client. As it was, he could not get rid of any more, not without replacing them with new ones. Mrs. Peterson hasn't asked Severus for a shag in quite a long while, and hopefully she would not be asking for one Sunday night.

“Come Sunday morning, that way we have all day together,” Severus recommended, the hint of excitement creeping into his voice. “I'll cook an early supper, and Draco and Ginny can come and dine with us. We can discuss the plan over a leg of lamb and some good Cabernet Sauvignon. Tell your husbands you're going out shopping or something; that way Ginny can spend the day with Draco, as well.”

There was an eagerness in his eyes Hermione did not think possible. To her it sounded perfect. “And then after dinner we can dance a little?”

His face shrouded itself with a veil of grimness. “I can't have you stay Sunday night. I have... company.”

“Oh.” Hermione ducked her head down. So much for her sanctuary from the real world. Now she was faced with the fact that Severus truly was not hers alone, not even for the whole day. She wanted to know, and she knew she would regret asking, but could not help herself. “Will you be sleeping with her?” The bitterness in her voice could not be masked by her offhanded tone that bordered on cavalier.

“Probably not. It depends on if she asks, which she usually doesn't.” Jealousy was a petty emotion Severus did not tolerate in others, even though Hermione's was almost endearing, as a sign that she cared so much. Still, it was something that could become a problem if not addressed immediately. “I only sleep with one client regularly, and I suspect she is growing bored with me. You are the only woman I have ever asked to stay the night; you are the only one I have kissed. You are not a client. Remember that in the end I chose you and did not invite the others to more nights here, or remove my mask for them. Do not ask about the others anymore. I do not ask you if you will be sleeping with your husband this weekend. This is what I must do to survive and keep the Ministry from destroying me.” His small warning came out more like a chastisement, and with the mention of her husband, Severus felt his own surge of jealousy rise.

Shame filled Hermione that she was already acting so possessively. She knew what he did, and they had gone over this issue before. It still did not stop the stinging lump of hot jealousy from residing in her gut.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I just don't know how to deal with something like this. It's all very strange and foreign to me. Forgive me.”

Severus' hand settled on her shoulder, and without looking back at him, she squeezed it as an acceptance of his forgiveness.

Dressed and ready to go, Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time to make sure she looked presentable before coming home, in case Ron had already finished with his business dinner. Severus, who donned his dressing gown, walked Hermione to his door.

“Sunday.” Severus smoothed back an errant wisp of hair near her face.

“Yes, and I can help you cook supper, if you'll let me help in the kitchen this time,” she said with unveiled eagerness.

“And test another batch of the male enhancement potion,” he added, which made Hermione smile with a small laugh.

“And definitely test another batch of that potion of yours. And maybe dance the tango?” Hermione trailed a finger up to his chest and played with a few of the hairs on it, keeping her eyes down.

“And dance a little. And talk of apprenticeships and escapes and ingredients.”

“Oh, hell!” Hermione frowned and gently thumped her head against Severus' chest. “I forgot I had a potion simmering at work to separate it, trying to figure what was in it. Now it's probably all burnt and ruined. I have to go back to work and turn the fire off. Damn!”

Severus leaned back and tipped Hermione's face up. “What potion was this?”

“Ron has been taking this potion his personal trainer has given him to help him gain muscle, so he can be all muscular for some calendar photography shoot later this year,” Hermione explained, feeling rather exasperated with herself that she could had forgotten about the potion like that, all due to the fact she didn't sleep last night. “It's making him a bit aggressive and he doesn't know what's in it. So I nicked a vial of it, and was going to try and separate it to figure out what was in it.”

Humming momentarily to himself, Severus finally said, “Bring a couple samples here. I'll help you figure out what's in it, as potion analysis is definitely something you'll learn during your apprenticeship. You'll be doing the work, but I can guide you.”

Hermione was suddenly thrilled that not only would she be doing something that she would have to master during her apprenticeship, but she would be doing it with Severus. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

She pulled back and was beaming brightly at him. “I can't wait. Sunday morning. How does ten o'clock sound?”

“Fine.” There was nothing left to discuss, and the evening had finally come to an end. Severus kissed Hermione one last time for the night before stepping back and bowing to kiss her hand. “Until then.” It was over the top and suddenly romantic, but he knew Hermione would be delighted by the gesture.

She giggled like a schoolgirl and felt as if she had been swept off her feet by the whole course of events. Love is a heady sensation that can make even the most sensible person act like a romantic fool.

Opening the door, Hermione was just about to step out into the hallway when she heard someone descending the stairs from above. Stepping back inside and quickly pulling the door closed, Severus and Hermione peered through the crack in the door, both curious as to who had been up in Blaise's flat making all that noise.

From their vantage point, they could both see part of the stairs and the landing to the left of Severus' door. The tall figure stopped at the base of the stairs to tuck in his shirt, a satisfied smirk still firmly placed on his mouth. The red hair was a giveaway that the wizard was a Weasley, but Hermione felt her knees give way when she recognized her own husband on the other side of the door.
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A/N: A huge round of thanks to my wonderful betas who do such a fabulous job of fixing all my errors (listed in reverse alphabetical order): JuneW, Horserider, GinnyW.
Yes, 2003 really was the wettest year on record for Virginia and North Carolina. http://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/oa/climate/research/2003/ann/us-summary.html
Fluxweed (Isanthus brachiatus) is an annual, native to the eastern half of the United States, mostly along the eastern seaboard. In several states it is considered an endangered native plant, including Connecticut, and it is not grown commercially by the nursery trade.
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After