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Days of Future Past : Edited & Complete 11/20/11	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 12303 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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This is a re-edit, trust me, it needed it.

Days of Future Past

This is rated NC17 for a reason and contains themes that may be difficult for some readers such as abuse, abortion, crises, angst, violence and attempted adultery. Read at your own discretion.

This story was written for a LiveJournal Community.

Hermione/Severus: I combined two prompts. Every night Hermione dreams that he's telling her he loves her, but during the day he's the usual bastard.

"If it hadn't been for the spaniels, she wouldn't have believed him."

If you can make it through to the end, I promise you won't be disappointed. :0) Oh, and I was so inspired, I wrote this all in one sitting. Go me ha ha. Special thanks to the Moody Blues second album, Days of Future Passed, for the title which I altered slightly to suit the theme of this fic. I also realize there are some elements of this story which may be construed as OOC and/or not likely to happen. It's fiction, folks, it is what it is and I don't write for the realism of it. It's called fan fiction so we can make it go the way we want it to! I am an A/U writer through and through. Without further ado:

Hermione was having the most wonderful dream.

She was lay in a giant four poster bed, sheets of Gryffindor red silk with a comforter of gold pushed to the side. Soft, classical music from the wizarding wireless played a gentle sonata in the background, dozens of candles shedding muted light through the gauzy Slytherin green folds that draped in a cone down from the high top of the canopy.

The fireplace burned low, embers glowing as if their inner heat was reflected from the intimate, fiery passion smoldering on the bed mere feet from the double wingback chairs in front of it. The happy couple had spent many a happy hour perusing their latest literary interests ensonsced in those chairs.

Hermione moaned in her sleep, nearly able to feel the homemade massage oil her darling husband slathered generously over her baby-soft skin. Over her shoulders and upper back, down to the curve of her bum, between the delectable folds and down the backs of her legs where he was now giving her a foot massage of such wonderful, intimate grace she nearly came from the feel of his calloused fingertips that plied nerve endings she didn't even know she had.

The faint smell of patchouli and jasmine wafted to her nostrils combined with the stronger scent of her own arousal. Her husband recited poetry in that death-by-dark-liquid-chocolate voice of his. It made her toes curl in anticipation of what was to come.

Sensing her distress, the former Potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry dug the heels of his palms into the backs of her legs and slid them up her body, stopping only to knead the flesh of her arse a bit more before continuing up to nip at her neck and shoulder, pressing his raging-hard erection into her backside as he did so.

"How was that, love?" He smoothly transitioned from poetry and massage to seduction and dressage.

"Mmmm, it was wonderful. I wish we took the time to do this more often."

Practically purring, he thrust lightly against her cleft, the oil combining with the slickening juices of her cunt and the pre-come leaking profusely from the tip of his purple erection.

"I've got four weeks holiday coming, and I plan to take it all the month of December to make it the most memorable Christmas and anniversary you will ever remember, starting tonight."

"Oh, Severus!" she sighed and turned underneath him.

"You're my sweet, beautiful witch, and I intend to spend the rest of my waking days showing you exactly how much you mean to me. I love you Hermione Granger-Snape. I will always love you, and you will never regret saying, "I do"."

Tears pooled at the corners of the thirty year old witch's eyes and he kissed them away.

"I love you too Severus Snape. Make me yours again. Always, every night of our lives, make me yours."

"The things you do to me, witch!" he snarled suddenly and thrust his impossibly hard cock inside of her tight, moist heat. The two of them gasped in unison as he began a pounding but loving pace, the slow burn of seduction boiling fiercely into an inferno of true love and lust. Within seconds they were writhing against one another in ecstasy and shouting each other's names in completion.

Hermione moaned again in her sleep and felt her pussy clench in anticipation. Half-awake now and somewhat cognizant of the fact that light was streaming through a window into her eyes, her hand sneaked of its' own accord between her legs and with a few feeble flicks of her clit she came hard against hand, jerking herself awake.

Panting from the intensity of the dream and her own orgasm, she grabbed for the shabby green comforter and clutched it to her naked breasts, breathing hard. That had been another in a series of highly erotic dreams that had haunted her nights. She never dreamed about any other man but her husband, who was snoring unflatteringly next to her in the second hand bed at Spinner's End, his crooked yellow teeth covered in fuzz from never brushing and a line of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth and pooling on the pillow beneath.

Jesus Christ. What the hell had she been thinking?

Ten years married to Severus Snape had been no picnic. Their whirlwind romance after the defeat of the Dark Lord had been exciting, rough, stimulating and intense. She had been attracted to his dark persona, always the brilliant recluse that was a martyr for the side of light. A tragic tale of unrequited love and an underdog who was never given a fair shot at love and understanding. Being a sucker for lost causes, she had fallen hopelessly in love with that snarky, sarcastic wit, his brilliance and of course, his prowess between the sheets. His proposal a month later was the icing on the cake and she, so blind in the naivety of youth, had fallen for it hook line and sinker, and been married in a civil ceremony at the Ministry.

He had convinced her that they didn't need a fancy wedding or rings to show the depth of their love for one another. He called it "the herd mentality" and rejected wizarding societal notions of commitment and expression.

The first six months was everything Hermione thought it would be; well, almost. She chose to overlook the fact that Spinner's End was a complete dump and although Severus had a good job as a teacher, he chose to quit right after their marriage and start his own business. Another thing that should have set off warning bells was his tight-wad mentality about money. She wasn't allowed to handle the finances, so she had never known exactly how much money they had.

If it weren't for her own generous income as a Ministry researcher into Dark Curses and translation of ancient texts, she wouldn't have had anything to spend on herself. Of course, he also refused to let her change anything about the house except for the times she wouldn't budge and braved his wrath before he gave in to replace something that was so beyond repair even magic couldn't save it anymore.

Oh, and her friends weren't allowed over. Neither were her parents. As he put it, he was an intensely private man and needed his privacy so he could concentrate.

Children were out of the question. He didn't even discuss it with her. It was a statement, and in his forthright opinion, a deal breaker. He had never wanted children and would expect her to "take care of" any pregnancy that resulted, as, of course, it would be her fault after all if it were to happen.

Being a Saturday, there wasn't much on the agenda today. Living under his roof had been a trial all these years. She longed for the intimacy they once shared at the beginning of their relationship. It was as if there were a Severus she had gotten to know, and a Severus she had married. If it weren't for the niggling feeling in her gut, she could swear she had married a spin doctor.

She sighed and rose from the bed, doing her best not to creak the springs on her side but failing as the rusted, broken box spring groaned in protest when she got up. Wincing, she looked back and saw her husband still snoring gracelessly.

Gods, the least he could do would be to brush his damn teeth! She thought rebelliously, not that he kissed her anymore.

Having to wrench open the stuck closet door was annoying as hell, too. She gritted her teeth and reached into the wardrobe for a pair of sweats and jumper.

"Where's my breakfast?" came the deep voice from behind her.

Closing her eyes momentarily, Hermione opened them and schooled her features before turning around.

"What makes you think I'm making you breakfast, dear?" She tried hard not to say the last word with disdain.

"Why, to celebrate the merger of my business with Lucius Malfoy's potions enterprise. We'll be rich!" He rubbed his hands together and looked smug as he said the words, watching her expectantly.

Hermione was unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Since when have I ever made you breakfast? You're not helpless. Make it yourself."

She continued to dress herself. Hermione pretended to be flippant in her attitude toward anything concerning her husband. He showed her about as much real affection as a stuffed animal, and sometimes even those could be more comfort than he. Deep inside, it hurt her tremendously and she knew that if things didn't change soon she was going to break her own heart and leave him. He didn't seem to care either way. All he wanted was someone to take care of his crappy old house and work so he didn't have to spend his own money on the bills or meager upkeep, not to mention groceries, the tailor...

Hermione had no idea where his paycheck went to.

She missed the way his eyes narrowed and his subtle movements before he was out of bed and behind her, pushing her down and yanking her sweats and knickers down.

"You've become quite the defiant little witch lately. I think you need to learn that the wizard wears the pants in this family."

"What family?" she muttered. His pathetic show of dominance did nothing for her anymore during her waking hours. He would fuck her, demand she tell him what he wanted to hear and then disappear for the day, leaving her to her own devices.

Sure enough, with no foreplay he pushed his impressive girth inside of her and clutched her hips, breathing hard against her shoulder.

"Who is your husband, witch?"

"You, Severus," she answered in a bored tone, picking at a torn cuticle.

He thrust into her hard a few times and asked again, his voice already ragged, "And who owns this pretty little cunt of yours?"

"You do, Severus," she answered once more, squeaking when she tore the cuticle free from the side of her nail and it began to bleed.

He took her reaction for excitement and plowed into her a dozen or so more times before groaning and emptying himself deeply inside of her. Not once did he try to bring her off or show her pleasure. Sex had become dry, routine and expected.

"Was that good for you?" he whispered, making a half-hearted attempt that still was only meant to soothe his own ego.

"Yes, dear," she replied and pushed him off of her so she could pull on her knickers and sweats once more.

With a huff he stood and dressed without comment. As Hermione finished her morning ablutions in the bathroom she called after him when she heard the front door opening.

"Where are you going to be today, dear?"

"As you well know, that is none of your concern, wife," he spat before slamming the door so hard the front entry windows rattled.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and cried her eyes out. He was never going to change. With a heavy heart she went to pack her bags and decided there was nothing worth taking. She put her few nice things in a carry bag, left a note for Severus and left the dump that had been her home and prison for the last ten years.
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Days of Future Past : Edited & Complete 11/20/11