CHAPTER 10
Chapter 10 ~ Courting Mrs. Snape
Several days later, Severus eventually located Sheena in a little hole-in-the-wall in Knockturn Alley and relieved himself of his lust for Hermione, using the dark-eyed witch and his imagination for a substitute. Sheena was delighted with his performance right up until the moment he came groaning Hermione’s name.
“Hermione? Who the fuck is Hermione?” Sheena demanded, trying to wriggle out from under him, unsuccessfully. When he was finished releasing, Severus rolled off her and on to his back, sated.
“My wife,” he panted.
“Your WHAT?!”
Sheena was no Catherine. Severus was lucky to have made it out of the ratty little hotel room with both heads intact. He had a nasty hand-shaped bruise on his left cheek, a long scratch on his right cheek and a lock of his silky hair torn out. He made sure to collect every hair, Sheena clinging to his back scratching and biting like a tiger until he managed to throw her off, scourgify her, put her in a body bind and beat a hasty retreat. Sheena dabbled in the ancient arts, and was good at casting particularly nasty hexes from a distance using the personal effects of an individual. Severus didn’t dare leave a single hair or drop of semen behind. He didn’t want to wake up with a cock the size of his pinky finger.
No doubt Sheena would tell Veronica about his marriage. The two witches were friends as well as lovers, so he could mark her off the role as well. The only paramour left was Denise, and he hadn’t felt the urge for her particular talent in a good, long while. She might have forgotten about him altogether.
But Severus figured that now he could wake up in the mornings without being cross-eyed with lust, he could begin to court Hermione, and back any other interested parties away. He began his pursuit of the witch in a rather simple way, giving her free reign of his library and his study to use as she liked, then discussing the books she read in the evenings after she finished her assignments and he completed his marking and lesson plans. He was very pleased with her quick mind and original thought processes. Most discussions ended up being heated debates over fine points and opposing theories, with Hermione running to the shelves and pulling out tome after tome of evidence supporting her thoughts. Severus found that he enjoyed her company, she was intellectually stimulating, and that was something his life had lacked for a long, long time.
Soon it became their custom to have supper in Hermione’s rooms, preparing meals either separately or together, continuously arguing and debating, before, during and after eating. But during classes, they conducted themselves as usual, with Severus taking points from Hermione, and hence Gryffindor at every opportunity as usual, and still giving her hell with her marks. They had agreed not to discuss these situations outside of the classroom. The only difference was Severus addressed Hermione as Mrs. Snape rather than Miss Granger. At first, Hermione’s fellow students believed she was going to get preferential treatment, since most thought she was shagging the Potions Master. She was his wife after all. But Severus soon dispelled that notion. He was as snarky to Hermione as ever.
“She must not be shagging him right,” was the general consensus of the class. Some suspected she wasn’t fucking him at all, since the Professor continued to be so mean. They were right. But that had nothing to do with his meanness. Severus could get laid five times a day and still give his students hell. He wanted them to learn.
Hermione, for the most part, continued to wear her new wardrobe and attract the attention of young wizards throughout Hogwarts, though she wasn’t actively doing it for dates at this point and was simply enjoying herself. During school hours, she was her usual, studious self, focused on her classes and her marks. Mostly it was the weekends when she dressed up and visited her friends or invited them down to her rooms under the guise of hanging out. But Hermione was still Hermione, and she generally turned visits into study sessions. So the visits from her friends became less frequent, and tended to increase whenever important tests were coming up. In other words, the usual. They still used Hermione for her brains.
Things became so comfortable between Hermione and Severus that she eventually was able to relax around him, and almost forget that he wanted to bed her. The Potions Master was every bit as patient as he said he would be. He was finding out there was more than one way to enjoy a young woman as gifted as Hermione. He got a distinct satisfaction from watching her curl up comfortably in one of the armchairs, reading while he sat at his desk and marked papers, or watching her stretch out on the floor in front of the fire with four or five books, writing some essay that wasn’t due for several weeks. Hermione, for her part, found herself quite drawn to her husband’s knowledge, intelligence and sarcastic wit. She also began to appreciate other things about him, more personal. His voice really was wonderful. Soft, silky, and smooth. It had an almost hypnotic quality, and she found she loved to listen to him talk about almost anything. He had some rather archaic ideas about the roles of men and women. Hermione liked to call his outlook the “Neanderthal Premise”.
“Me Man. You Woman. I Hunt. You Cook,” Hermione would mock him.
But it was during these kinds of discussion the Potions Master would often go silent, and simply look at her, making her flush all over under his dark eyes before she would change the subject. She knew instinctively where he thoughts were concerning the real role of men and women, and his desire for her. But he never made a move.
He did however have a habit of popping up whenever she was being hit on by younger wizards, staring at them imperiously before escorting his wife to her next class or wherever she needed to go. The message was loud and clear to the students. “Don’t hit on the Professor’s wife.” In the case of Erin Bradcliff, however, Severus was a bit more direct.
Erin had taken to waiting for Hermione after classes following the first evening he had walked her back to her rooms and received a kiss on the cheek from her. Severus did not immediately take the young wizard to task as he had loose ends to wrap up with Sheena and had not yet started wooing his wife in earnest. But he kept his eye on the wizard. The boy was playing the friendship angle, not moving in too fast but establishing a relationship of trust. Erin was one of the friends Hermione would invite to her rooms, and he came religiously, despite her turning the visits to educational seminars. He was truly smitten with the witch.
Once he was in wooing mode, Severus followed his wife and the Head Boy one afternoon and took a little look in Erin’s mind after the boy had walked Hermione to Arithmancy. Just as Severus suspected, the young wizard was fantasizing about fucking his wife, apparently in some Hogwarts corridor behind a statue. It was quite a realistic fantasy. Mr. Bradcliff clearly knew what he wanted to do to Hermione. Severus clearly knew what he wanted to do to Mr. Bradcliff.
Later that night, Severus adjusted his rounds to coincide with Mr. Bradcliff’s route and intercepted the Head Boy up in the high halls of the castle, where very few people ventured.
Erin was walking up the dark corridor with his wand lit, when Severus stepped out of the shadows with a billow of robes, startling the young man. Erin was about the same height as the Potions Master, and roughly the same size. But the Potions Master was much more imposing. The young wizard’s gray eyes met Severus’ black ones and shifted away rather guiltily. He had an idea what this was about.
“Good evening, Mr. Bradcliff,” Severus purred.
“Good evening, Professor Snape, sir,” Erin replied stepping back a bit. The Potions Master was standing rather close to him. Uncomfortably so.
“Why are you in this part of the castle, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?” Erin asked the Professor.
“I wanted to speak to you privately, Mr. Bradcliff,” Severus replied silkily, “About my wife.”
“Your wife, sir?” Erin asked, swallowing a bit.
Severus scowled at him slightly.
“Yes, Mr. Bradcliff, my wife. You know her. About five three, chestnut-haired, amber-eyed, rather curvaceous. Goes by the name of Mrs. Snape. You walk her to every class you can. Remember her now, Mr. Bradcliff?” Severus asked him, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Yes, sir,” the wizard replied.
“I want you to forget her,” the Potions Master snarled.
“Forget her, sir?” Erin repeated.
“Is there a fucking echo in here? Yes. Forget her. Leave her alone. Stay away from her,” the Potions Master said dangerously.
Erin must have summoned up some courage from someplace, because he said, “It’s my understanding, Professor, that you and your wife have an ‘open’ relationship and see other people.”
Severus leaned in very close to the wizard, his face mere inches from the wizard’s now paled visage.
“From here on out, Mr. Bradcliff, consider our relationship marked ‘closed’.” he breathed. “I saw your little fantasy about fucking my wife behind a statue via legilimency. I assure you, it will never happen. And if you attempt it, your disappearance from Hogwarts will remain a mystery for years to come. She is my wife, and belongs to me, and me alone. The only one fucking her will be me. Do we understand each other, Mr. Bradcliff?”
Severus’ eyes had a crazed look to them as he studied the young wizard. He was ready to take him out right now if necessary. The Potions Master was very serious about Hermione belonging to him, even if he hadn’t taken her yet. He wanted no competition whatsoever.
“Yes sir,” Bradcliff answered in a rather cracked voice.
Snape straightened.
“Good, Mr. Bradcliff. You may continue your rounds,” Severus said.
“Thank you, sir,” the young wizard replied. His stomach was feeling queasy as he walked away from the Professor.
“Oh, Mr. Bradcliff?” Severus called after him. The wizard turned.
“Yes sir?” he asked.
“I don’t want word of our little conversation getting back to my wife,” Severus said, his black eyes glinting.
“No sir. She won’t hear a word about it,” Erin replied.
“Good. Carry on,” Severus said, melting into the darkness like a wraith.
Erin stood there for a moment, looking at the empty space where the Potions Master had stood. Then he bolted for the nearest window and vomited.
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One evening, about eleven weeks into the marriage, after Severus had left the rooms to do his rounds, Hermione was curled up in an armchair in front of the fire, when she heard a knock on the Potions office door. She looked at the clock. It was nine-thirty. Half an hour past curfew. She was dressed in comfortable sweats, a t-shirt and barefoot. She put the book down, picked up her wand and walked to the study door. Hermione pulled the torch to open the wall and padded out into Severus’ office.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“It’s Ginny, Hermione. I need to talk to you,” came the reply.
“Ginny, what are you doing out so late?” Hermione called back unwarding the door and opening it.
Suddenly Hermione was hit in the side of the face by a staggering blow and knocked backwards into her husband’s desk. Her wand hand was grabbed and the wand torn from it. She heard the office door close and a ward whispered over it. A hard body pressed against hers. Still stunned from the blow she received, Hermione opened her eyes and looked up into the cold, gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy.
“Good evening, Mrs. Snape. Your hubby at home?” he asked with an evil smirk.