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Severus was moaning into Hermione Granger’s mouth as her tongue gently undulated against his. He had a fistful of soft curls in one hand and the other nestled into the curve of her lower back. Most men would not be quite so thrilled about touching a woman’s back, but Severus had never expected to get so far and was enthralled by the endless possibilities. If he drifted his hand down, just a few inches, he could touch her arse.
He’d never noticed Granger’s arse before, not being in the habit of checking out his students, or even former students who had turned into unattainable beautiful young woman. But he could… his fingers twitched against her silky robes and he forcibly stilled himself.
It was just a kiss. Nothing more. Granger would not be pleased if he took the opportunity to grope her.
His cock was far more optimistic than his brain. It seemed quite confident that this kissing would lead to something more.
To the eternal disappointment of both his heads, the larger proved correct, as always.
Granger pulled away from the kiss, blinking happily up at him. As she did so he finally recalled their location. He looked around at the shocked expressions of various Order members who had just watched him snog Granger and he knew his cursed cheeks were turning pink.
Suddenly a loud voice said, “What the fuck Mione? Were you just snogging the greasy git? Are you mental?”
“Surprised you extracted yourself from Lavender long enough to notice,” she retorted.
Severus felt his stomach sink. The best kiss of his life, ever, and to her it was simply revenge against Weasley for jilting her. He barely heard the rest of the conversation as the pair sniped at each other, merely stood there scowling fiercely at Weasley until the boy was dragged off by his mother and scolded, once again, for his lack of manners.
He glared around at their audience until they all stopped staring so openly.
Granger said lightly, “It’s rather nice having some scowling man candy on my arm.”
He turned the scowl on her.
Her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“You were just using me to make Weasley jealous,” he spat.
Granger gaped at him. “What? No, I wasn’t!”
“Yes, you were. That’s the only reason you kissed me. You’re leading me on just to get back at Weasley for jilting you.”
She glared, obviously angry. “And the kiss in the pantry was to make the root vegetables jealous was it? No, the tinned soup. I really wanted to get those cans riled up.”
He frowned, considering.
“Severus, you’re a very silly man. I kissed you because I wanted to. I won’t deny I’m pleased that it also made Ron jealous, but that was not the primary pleasure of the activity.”
“I’m not silly,” he said tersely, despite feeling very much as though he was.
Granger smiled cheekily. “Come upstairs with me. I want to make the books jealous next.”
She was halfway across the room before she noticed he wasn’t following. She looked puzzled for a moment and then her face fell with obvious disappointment. She turned away and continued on her way. He stared after her, perturbed. She didn’t come back. And everyone was staring at him.
He stalked up to the library after Granger, though he was incredibly irritated about it.
She was in the library, a stack of books floating along behind her as she moved along the shelves, carefully reshelving them.
“I’m not some pathetic adolescent you can lead about by the nose.”
She didn’t turn to look at him, and her voice was deliberately flat as she responded, “And yet you did follow.”
“I haven’t much choice in the matter, considering my oath.”
She turned to look at him then, her expression sad, and said seriously, “I release you from—”
His heart squeezed, and this time it was not from the bond. “Wait! What did I do wrong?”
Her jaw dropped. “You accused me of using you, of being so heartless as to pretend to be willing to court you simply to make another man jealous. You refused to believe me when I told you I wasn’t. And then instead of saying something you decided to turn it into a bloody power play!”
“That was you! I… suppose I should not have thought that of you, but you were making fun of me. You made a fool of me and then expected me to come running after you.”
She blinked at him, and to his astonishment there were tears in her eyes. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I was trying to make light of the fact you apparently think I’m a horrible person. And is it such a bad thing that I wanted to kiss you again? Or that I hoped you would feel the same way?”
She spun away from him and began searching for the next location which required a reshelved book.
“I do feel the same way.”
“No. You’re too busy thinking it would be ‘pathetic’ and ‘adolescent’ to follow me somewhere for the purpose.”
He grimaced. He watched as she slid a book into place, carefully lining it up with its brethren and stroking a finger along its spine. “I’m sorry.”
“I'm sorry too.”
“You are?”
“I thought it would be clear to you that I wasn't using you like that, but I suppose I could have been more reassuring. I didn't mean to joke about it if it upset you.”
“It was more that you called me scowling man candy.”
“That wasn't a joke! I meant it. It was nice. Everyone was staring at us. Sure, I wanted them to know, but that doesn't mean I want to be ogled.”
“Man candy,” he repeated scathingly.
“I'm sorry for objectifying you?” she asked uncertainly.
He stared at her, astonished. “You cannot seriously mean to tell me you think I am attractive enough to qualify for the term.”
Her brow furrowed in concern. “I do mean to tell you that. Severus, you’re very appealing. Have you not seen the articles in Witch Weekly about you? They’re calling you the sexiest wizard al—”
“Because they are insane,” he hissed. “That is not a real opinion that people who know me in any capacity would hold.”
“Well, I guess I’m insane then! You’ve gotten quite fit since the end of the war, you look good. I was literally checking your bum out earlier tonight while you were meticulously rearranging the dessert table.”
“You like my bum?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Not just your bum,” she said, eyes alight with amusement. “I like plenty of other things too. But I was overcome by a particular desire to give your bum a good squeeze.”
He found himself speaking before his brain had quite caught up with his mouth. “You may.”
Her smile widened. “Right now?”
He nodded stiffly.
She walked over, without hesitation, and wrapped her arms around him. She placed both of her hands on his arse then softly squeezed both cheeks and began to massage them in gentle circles. With her body pressed against his front he was certain she felt his arousal twitch in response.
She looked up at him, still biting her lip, expression serious.
He attempted to force his brain to focus, to ignore the overwhelming sensation of her hands on him and her soft, pillowy breasts squished against his chest.
“Severus,” she began hesitantly, “I want to lead you about by the nose. If that’s pathetic and adolescent, I don’t really care. If the idea of snogging me is something you can take or leave, I would rather you leave it.”
“You think I don’t want you.”
“That’s what you said!” She released him and pushed away slightly. “You acted like I’m ridiculous for expecting you to follow me upstairs for a snog.”
“But I did follow you,” he said, repeating her words from earlier.
“Which you made perfectly clear you only did because of the oath.”
“No,” he growled, frustrated with himself for lashing out at her. “I didn’t follow because I believed you were teasing and making fun of me. And then I was angry with myself because I followed you anyway.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
He looked away, uncomfortably. “I didn’t want you to believe you could control me.”
She pondered him for a moment. “If the roles were reversed and you wanted to go somewhere for a snog would you not be pleased to know that I would follow you?”
He stared at her helplessly, feeling stupid and inadequate. “I’m sorry,” he said, hoping desperately to escape the torture of attempting to explain his emotions when he barely understood them himself.
“You don’t have to keep apologising. I forgive you. I just… don’t think it’s controlling to want your partner to be eager to be with you. But, I suppose you thought I was mocking you so it’s understandable that you wouldn’t want to.” Her mouth twisted slightly, expression sad as she continued, “In future I would prefer if you’d explain that you are upset rather than rejecting me and making me believe you aren’t interested.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sniffed. “Stop apologising. I already forgave you.”
She still looked sad though, and a part of him he had long believed to be dead ached to fix it. He considered her words. She was upset because she doubted his want for her. The idea of demonstrating that he did felt horrendously embarrassing, and he feared rejection immensely, and yet his oath squeezed slightly. Now that he understood her upset he could not allow Hermione to continue to wallow in that particular misunderstanding.
“I am very interested. Too interested, truly, as I fear the extent of my interest may frighten you. So interested that I completely forgot a roomful of people was watching us when you kissed me and barely restrained myself from groping you. I believe I did fail to refrain from grinding against you, despite my best efforts to keep myself under control. That was truly the best kiss I’ve ever had, which is why it bothered me so much to believe you were thinking of Weasley at the time.”
“It was the best kiss I’ve ever had too,” she admitted immediately, her eyes shining up at him. “And I really was thinking only of you at the time. Though, if I’m being completely truthful, I did anticipate that Ron would be bothered by it when I first concocted the plan. I wouldn’t have kissed you just for that, but it was a secondary consideration.”
“What was the primary consideration?”
“I wanted to kiss you. Partly just because I wanted to, but also because you turning up and suddenly asking to court me was a little surreal. You’ve always been so untouchable and unapproachable, I guess I thought that kissing you would make it feel more real. Which it did. And there was a part of me that was bothered that Ron would have someone to kiss at midnight and I would not. I wanted him to know I had someone too, and I wanted everyone else to know too. To know that you’re mine.”
“You want them to know,” he repeated, trying to make himself believe it. Not only did she want him, she was also unashamed of it.
“Yes. You realise it will be in the Prophet tomorrow. I know I heard the puff of at least one camera going off.” She paused, hesitating. “You don’t mind, do you? I mean if you’re courting me people were going to find out eventually, and like I said I’m not one to keep secrets.”
“If anyone should mind it would be you. Of course, I don’t mind people knowing that the brightest witch of the age chooses to keep company with me. You are beautiful and lovely.”
“Thanks,” she said, offering a small smile. “Did you really almost grope me in front of everyone?”
The obvious delight in her eyes at the idea made it easy for him to answer. “I entirely forget there was anyone else in the room with us. And you do have quite a lovely bum yourself.”
“Would you like to touch it?”
“Obviously,” he drawled.
She giggled and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him. Her hands found his bum again and squeezed. He felt a swooping sensation in his stomach as he bent down slightly in imitation of her. It felt very silly to be standing there in the library touching each other’s bums, but he relaxed into the strangeness of it.
His cock, which was now thoroughly confused by the number of times it had had occasion to perk up only to fade quietly away when it was ignored in favour of more serious conversation, remained optimistic. Hermione pressed herself against his chest and aggressively kneaded his butt cheeks. And then she titled her head up to kiss him again.
His brain went silent again as the little witch pulled him along, breaking their kiss just long enough to perch herself on the small step ladder she had been using to reach the higher shelves before pulling him in between her parted thighs.
She made a happy little moan as he pressed against her again and he suddenly realised exactly which part of her body was now separated from his cock by a few mere scraps of clothing. He made another undignified sound of his own before pulling away from her lips.
“Granger…”
“Hermione,” she corrected.
“Hermione. We must stop… I can’t… You wanted to take it slow.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t want to take it slow, but if you do that’s fine.”
His brain demanded further clarification, so in direct contrast to the wishes of his other head he said, “You said you wanted to. To go on dates—"
“I wanted to take the marriage thing slow.”
“Oh,” he said stupidly.
“Do you want to—”
“Yes,” he said, and kissed her again.
She laughed against his mouth and pulled away slightly. “I was about to say, ‘do you want to take it slow.’ May I assume from your behaviour that your actual answer is no?”
“Yes,” he said immediately.
He opened his mouth to clarify further but failed to do so as her mouth found his again, her tongue quickly twining with his. His brain once against settled into its newly discovered primal state of being where he thought of nothing but the taste of her, the press of her flesh against his, the softness of her skin and hair.
Higher brain function only emerged again upon hearing the quite unwelcome voice of Harry bloody Potter, The-Brat-Who-Lived-To-Torment-Him, saying, “Merlin, I do not need to see that.”
Ginerva Weasley let out a squeal of surprise.
Severus detached himself from Hermione’s mouth and turned to glare at them.
“This just arrived for you,” said Potter nervously, indicating a haughty looking eagle owl which was perched precariously on his hand. In its beak was a red envelope, leaking smoke.
“Someone sent you a howler?” asked Hermione in a delightfully husky voice.
“Lucius.” Severus sighed, recognising the owl.
Aware there was nothing for it he reluctantly extracted himself from the cradle of Hermione’s thighs, immediately missing the warmth. He accepted the envelope which immediately exploded.
The owl took flight, familiar enough with what it carried to know to make a hasty exit.
“ … SEVERUS, I FELT AN OATH TRIGGER HOURS AGO AND DEVELOPED AN IRREPRESSABLE URGE TO PLAN YOUR WEDDING, AND YET I HAVE HEARD NOTHING FROM YOU … ”
Severus sighed as Lucius’ voice began to scream at him, and his cock deflated once again.
“ … I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD NEGLECT TO INFORM ME OF SUCH A MOMENTOUS OCCASION WHEN YOU KNOW FULL WELL THAT WE CANNOT LEAVE THE MANOR TO HUNT YOU DOWN AND ASCERTAIN HOW SUCH A CIRCUMSTANCE HAS COME ABOUT, SO LEAVING US IN THE LURCH LIKE THIS IS HORRIBLY INCONSIDERATE … ”
He huffed as the tone of the howler went from angry to petulant. It continued to shout, but there was now a rather whining quality to all of the words.
“ … I THOUGHT THAT WE WERE FRIENDS AND THAT YOU WOULD NEVER BE SO THOUGHTLESS AS TO NOT THINK OF US AT SUCH A TIME, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KNOW HOW LONG WE HAVE LONGED TO SEE YOU HAPPY, AND WE REALLY CANNOT POSSIBLY PROCEED WITH ANYTHING, NOT THE INVITATIONS, NOR THE ROBES, NOR THE CENTREPIECES, WITHOUT FIRST SELECTING A COLOUR SCHEME, AND HOW ARE WE TO DO SO WHEN WE HAVE NOT EVEN BEEN INFORMED OF THE IDENTITY OF YOUR BRIDE? ... ”
“Bride?” muttered Potter. “What the bloody hell is he on about? If you’re getting married why are you snogging Mione?”
Severus ignored the faint flicker of irritation he felt at the boy’s words as Lucius continued to fill the library with his fussy yammering.
“ … NEVER WOULD HAVE BELIEVED YOU COULD NEGLECT ME SO SHAMEFULLY, AFTER ALL OUR YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP, I CANNOT ACCOUNT FOR IT AT ALL. AND YOU DO REALISE WE MUST GET A MOVE ON, DO YOU NOT? A SPRING WEDDING COULD COINCIDE PERFECTLY WITH OUR RELEASE FROM THIS INFERNAL HOUSE ARREST AND DO MUCH FOR OUR REPUTATIONS, PARTICULARLY IF YOU CAN CONVINCE SOME OF YOUR ORDER FRIENDS TO ATTEND, THOUGH YOU WILL HAVE TO APOLOGISE ON OUR BEHALF TO THE FEW WHO WERE TORTURED ON THE PREMISES … ”
Hermione flinched at the mention of torture and Severus winced, cursing internally. It had not occurred to him earlier that he would have associations who would be so unpleasant for her, yet another thing to add to the large list of reasons she ought to want as little to do with him as possible.
“ … I DO EXPECT TO HEAR FROM YOU IMMEDIATELY UPON RECEIPT OF THIS NOTICE OF MY DISCONTENT, AND BE INFORMED THAT I SHALL EXPECT YOU AT THE MANOR WITH SOME DEGREE OF IMMEDIACY, LEST I BE FORCED TO SEND ANOTHER … ”
The howler curled in on itself slightly, then brightened once more.
“ … OH AND, OBVIOUSLY, DO PASS OUR COMPLIMENTS ON TO THE BRIDE, WHOMEVER SHE MAY BE, AND LET HER KNOW WE ARE QUITE EAGER TO MAKE HER ACQUAINTANCE ... ”
The howler finally burst into flames as Lucius’ querulous wailing finally subsided.
Severus looked around at their waiting audience. Many of the Order had clearly heard the Howler from other areas of the house and had come to investigate. He cursed Lucius internally.
Potter narrowed his green eyes in suspicion. “What’s going on?”
He’d barely opened his mouth to respond before Hermione cut him off.
She announced primly, “Severus has asked to court me, and I’ve agreed.”
Weasley spluttered, “Court you? You’re courting the greasy git! Don’t be ridiculous Mione.”
“I’m not being ridiculous, Ron.”
“And what? You’re going to let Malfoy plan your bloody wedding?”
“No. Certainly not. And marriage is a long way off in any case. We’ve agreed to take things slow.”
“It didn’t look like you were taking things slow,” said Miss Weasley slyly.
Hermione blushed slightly, but continued primly, “Well, if that’s all, Severus and I have things to—”
Potter said, “No Hermione, that’s not all. Can I speak to you? Privately?”
The brat dragged her further into the library, along with his fiancé and her ignoramus of a brother. Severus was left standing with the remaining Order members, many of whom were glaring pointedly at him.
He heard Hermione say, “You can’t be serious, Ronald!”
A moment later she said shrilly, “No, I will not hush! I can’t believe you could accuse him of such a thing, it’s beyond ridiculous.”
Severus sighed, perfectly capable of imagining what sort of nefarious things the boy might accuse him of.
Minerva asked, “Severus, what did Malfoy mean when he mentioned an oath?”
He cursed Lucius internally, knowing the witch would not let the matter rest unless he explained. Bloody Lucius, and his bloody impatience. He pinched the bridge of his nose, certain he felt a headache coming on.
But he knew the insufferable man would follow through on his threat to send another Howler. “Give me a moment, I need to contact Lucius before he decides to break house arrest to track me down and yell at me in person.”
He had always hated summoning his Patronus in front of others, but thanks to Potter and his big mouth everyone was well aware of its embarrassing form. Swallowing his discomfort, he cast the charm.
He blinked in astonishment at the shambling creature which emerged from his wand in place of the gentle doe. An Acromantula. Silence fell across the room. Severus stared at it, too stunned to immediately impart his message, and the creature scuttled straight past him towards Granger.
Cold horror flooded him. Long before his Patronus had become a doe, it had been a spider. Smaller than this monstrosity, but no less unsettling to anyone forced to look at it. Even a manifestation of pure light magic, when cast by him, had managed to become something terrifying.
Patronuses were drawn instinctively towards those their casters cared for, and when summoned in a situation lacking in imminent danger, would often revert to showing affection for them. He had witnessed cats twining around legs, dogs jumping to lick faces, even a stag and a doe, nudging the shoulder of the caster of their matched form.
His spider had approached Lily once. Marlene had laughed first, mocking its twitching gait and spindly legs, comparing it to Severus himself. Lily had laughed too, until it had begun crawling towards her. The way she had recoiled in disgust had withered his happiness in that moment so completely that the charm had failed, the spider dissolving to mist before it could reach her, much to Lily’s obvious relief.
Now he watched in horrified anticipation as his Acromantula approached Hermione. Potter flinched backwards. Miss Weasley planted herself in front of him, as though shielding the boy from imminent attack. Mister Weasley fainted dead away.
Hermione alone remained still, her eyes wide as she looked up at the enormous spider looming over her.
His Patronus gently lifted one furry leg and nudged a curl back into place, tidying a strand that had fallen loose during their kiss. She smiled. She didn’t recoil or shrink away in terror. Instead, she looked across at Severus, her eyes shining in the silver glow of the spider, seeming pleased by its changed form.
He felt his heart swell with hope. If she could accept his terrifying, monstrous Patronus, perhaps she would be able to truly accept him too.
He took a step towards her, attempting to focus on the glowing form of his Patronus, rather than letting himself grow distracted by how lovely she looked in the light it emitted. He said gruffly, “Go to Lucius. Inform him that I will visit as soon as I am able, but that I am currently being interrogated by…” he paused, looking around at the surrounding Order members and not quite wanting to explain the who of the situation to his old friend via Patronus. He continued, “By my intendeds’ family. Do not send any further Howlers, unless you are hoping to ensure she will decline my attentions.”
The spider elicited a scream of terror from Weasley who had chosen to stir just as it went scuttling over the top of him.
Minerva stepped forward, as he had known she would, and said briskly, “You really mean to court Miss Granger then?”
He eyed her warily, her tone providing no clues to her stance on the matter. “I do,” he responded, nodding decisively. “If she will have me.”
“And will she?” asked Minerva, turning her steely expression on Hermione.
“I already said so.”
“No, Mione!” Weasley complained loudly. “You can’t. He’s a traitor. You heard that bloody Howler. He wants Malfoy to plan your wedding, after they tortured you. And now, what, you’re going to sit down to tea with them while they call you a Mud—”
Severus, his wand still out from casting Expecto Patronum, quickly flicked it at Weasley, gluing his tongue to the roof of his mouth before he could finish the slur. Granger’s hair crackled slightly as she eyed her friend.
Potter said warily, “He does have a point Hermione. Snape is friends with the Malfoys. It was his word that kept them out of Azkaban and gave them that pathetic excuse for house arrest, which they are still throwing a fit over, even though they should be grateful the Order tried to help them at all. Are you really going to trust them and move on from everything they did?”
Severus felt his stomach churn. Lucius wasn’t a good man, but he had always been there for him. But he wouldn’t blame Hermione if she couldn’t understand their friendship, one built on favours owed and returned to each other over the years.
Hermione was quiet for a moment, considering her response, and then she straightened her spine and said, “I don’t know if I will ever trust the Malfoys. But I do trust Severus. I don’t believe he would allow his friends to treat me ill, no matter what may have happened in the past. The same as I won’t allow any of you to treat him badly, should you wish to remain friends with me.”
Having finally freed his tongue from the roof of his mouth Weasley took the opportunity to exclaim, “You’re going to choose him over us.”
“No, Ron. If he expects to court me then he will treat my friends with equal civility.”
“He just hexed me!”
“Because you were being rude! And we aren’t friends, currently. Not until you apologise for snogging another witch less than half an hour after you proposed to me.”
“You’re marrying Snape! That’s way worse than me snogging anyone.”
“If you had behaved decently, I would not have accepted his suit so quickly, out of respect for our friendship. But seeing as you saw fit to disrespect me in such a manner, I had no problem in overlooking my own scruples.”
Potter asked, “You’re really doing this then? Marrying Snape?”
Hermione huffed. “It’s not like we’re going to run off to Gretna Green tomorrow. We’re dating. He’s merely been quite open about his intent to marry me.”
“But why? And what’s all this about an oath he made?” Potter’s eyes flicked towards Severus with suspicion. “And why the new Patronus? You loved my mum for all those years and now you’re just moving on to Hermione?”
Severus grimaced, tensing, the idea of trying to explain to all of these people about his complicated feelings over Lily Potter, and the stupidity of marrying someone over a soufflé did not appeal at all.
Hermione said, “That is none of your business, Harry.”
Potter opened his mouth to object, and then left it open to catch flies as Hermione continued, “No. Severus does not owe you an explanation. I will expect one for myself before our relationship progresses too much further, but you have no right to interrogate him. It should be enough for you to know that he cares for me, and I for him, though this really is quite new. We would appreciate your support while we get to know each other better.”
Severus felt gratitude swell within him and, unable to contain the feeling, reached out to take her hand. Her eyes flicked to his and she offered a small smile, squeezing his hand slightly. His heart thumped. She could have demanded a full accounting, of everything. If it were truly what she wanted the oath would require it of him, to lay himself bare before anyone and everyone.
He knew she must be curious, and yet she was willing to set that aside for his comfort, in a way that he couldn’t think of anyone ever doing for him before. And she was protecting him from her friends. She had said she wasn’t choosing him over them, but the idea that she would force her friends to be civil to him felt more like being chosen than anything else in his life ever had.
He vowed then and there that if the Malfoys, all three of them, could not promise to treat her well then he would do the same. He would protect her, even from his only friends. Even from hers, he thought, shooting a glare toward Weasley.
Minerva said, “I’m happy for the both of you. I do think you’ll be well suited. And, Severus, I will expect you for tea soon.”
He knew from the sharp look she gave him that she would expect more of an explanation from him, and he nodded.
Hermione said, “Thank you, Professor. For now, I think Severus and I have some things to discuss, so I will see you all later.”
And then, tightening her grip on his hand, she dragged him out of the library and down the stairs. Severus followed her, unsure of their destination, but willing to go wherever she would lead.
She paused on the front step. “Can we go to your house?”
He hesitated, and then, a little reluctantly, apparated them into his yard. He led her through the overgrown weeds in the garden and up to the shabbily painted back door, past the peeling wallpaper, and into the dusty sitting room.
“Tea?” he offered.
“That would be lovely,” she said, suppressing a yawn. “Or coffee if you have it.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to sleep first? We could always discuss this tomorrow.”
“Oh, I don’t think it will take long. I only wanted to ask… about the Malfoys. Must they really plan our wedding?”
She followed him into the dingy old kitchen as she spoke.
He took his time responding as he set the kettle to boil, certain she would not like the answer. “I am afraid I have promised to allow Lucius to do so. You may reject me, if you wish to, but otherwise we come as a package deal, so to speak.”
“Oh.”
He looked at her, dissatisfied by the inadequacy of her response. “From what you said back at Grimmauld I had assumed you might attempt to give them a chance. You expect me to be civil to your friends, but you cannot do the same?”
“My friends never tortured you and then made jokes about it while suggesting I attend your wedding,” she said fiercely, her eyes burning with righteous fury.
He stilled a moment. “I cannot do anything about their past behaviour, but I will not allow them to mistreat you in the future. And I will speak to Lucius about his propensity to make jokes of such things. He is a little flippant, even for my taste.”
“I just don’t understand how he can joke about such things. How can you be friends with him?”
He stiffened. He had feared this would be an interrogation about his feelings for Lily, but her asking about Lucius was likely worse. And would show him in a worse light. He could not help the way his hackles rose though. Who was she to judge him for his friendships? Had she not seen how crass Weasley was? She could overlook Potter’s dangerous, unhinged arrogance for years, but couldn’t allow Severus an undesirable friend of his own?
“Lucius is desensitised to such things,” he said tersely. “What was undoubtedly a highly traumatising experience for you was simply another Tuesday to him. And he is not likely to have much sympathy towards you, considering all of the atrocities he has witnessed. He is not a sadist. He did not enjoy seeing people tortured and defiled, but there was nothing he could do about it. And from his perspective what happened to you was simply not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” she repeated, her voice dull with horror.
“Whatever was done to you, Lucius has seen worse,” he said harshly.
She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, and he softened, feeling guilty.
Her voice cracked slightly as she said, “So I don’t get to be upset about my torture because it could have been worse? Do you think I don’t know that? I know exactly what Greyback had promised to do to me, so I should be grateful that it was only the Cruciatus curse?”
Her shoulders shook slightly and Severus cursed himself. He approached her, hesitantly, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. That isn’t what I meant. What you went through was truly horrific. No one should ever be forced to endure anything of the sort, and I would have done everything I could to prevent it from happening had I known. I do not mean to discount your experience, I only meant it as an excuse for Lucius, and it is a poor one.”
She whimpered.
He stroked her back gently, and when she did not shy away from him he carefully encircled her in his arms. His breath escaped him in a woosh of relief when she wrapped her arms around him in turn. They stood there in silence until the kettle began to whistle, startling her.
He flicked his wand to silence it.
She looked up at him, hesitantly. “Regarding the Malfoys planning our wedding then, if we did decide to get married, how well do you think they would do at sticking to a budget? Because…” she hesitated, looking around at his kitchen briefly. “You don’t strike me as being particularly wealthy, and I’m not either. I don’t want to waste money on an extravagant wedding we can’t afford just because Lucius Malfoy has expensive taste and more money than sense.”
He tried not to feel insulted by her reference to his poverty. He was not quite as poor as his house made him appear, though he supposed he should feel grateful she was still somehow considering the idea; despite his actually living in a hovel by choice, rather than necessity.
He could reassure her on one point, however. “I should have specified, he has agreed to plan—and pay for—my wedding. It will undoubtedly be disgustingly wasteful, but it will not cost us a Knut.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes brightening, “I suppose that’s okay then.”
He let the corner of his mouth turn up slightly. “Was that all you wanted to discuss, for now?”
She looked up at him and then bit her lip, her eyes flickering away nervously. “I thought we might continue our discussion from the library.”
He racked his brain, trying to recall what they might have discussed. His brain was full of images of pushing her up against a shelf and grinding his hips against hers. Of her hot mouth, open and welcoming, his tongue sliding past her lips to taste her. He could hear the breathy little moans she had made, muffled against his own mouth as she expressed her pleasure.
“Which discussion?” he asked, a little hoarsely.
Her eyes met his, boldness returning. “The one about taking things slow… or not. Perhaps we could continue that, in your bed?”