AN: A big thank you to everyone reading this story. You guys are the best. In this chapter Fiona has her own personal Beta named ScottishTeddy, the fastest Beta in the West (or,er, Scotland . . .). A big thank you to the anonymous posters as well, I wish I could thank you by pm. Warning, warm fuzzies ahead. Also, there will be a PG-13 appropriate marital sex scene (non-graphic). I have written many scenes like this in my own private writing, but it is a pretty large departure from my usual fanfic postings. I hope you enjoy. This may seem like an odd way to end the story, but one of the major themes I've tried to show is how much this relationship has changed the parents as much as if not more than the children involved. It's hard to imagine the Snape of canon having a wedding night, let alone connecting like this. Please let me know what you think.
Snape took a sip of his wine. He did not really like wine, nor was he very thirsty; he needed something to do with his hands. Something that could still his nervousness as he waited for his bride. After they had come to their bridal suite she had pointed at the wine, advising him to have a glass, while she went in the loo and changed out of her dress. Suddenly he panicked - should he change too? What if she expected him to change and he didn't? This was just so awkward and confusing. He took a calming breath, and poured himself another glass.
Instead of changing, Snape mulled over the day. He had never expected to have a wedding day, and so in some ways the day seemed almost unreal to him. But when he stood in a dress kilt with Remus and Harry by his side and watched Fiona walk down the aisle towards him, his heart beat so hard that he thought it was going to burst. Fiona's father had kissed her cheek after walking her down the aisle, and declared to Dumbledore that his wife and he presented their daughter to be married. Though he would eventually do most of the ceremony and the pronouncing, Snape enjoyed having Dumbledore do some parts of the ceremony.
And then, after making some promises that Snape was highly skeptical that anybody could actually keep, he suddenly had his arms full of his bride and was kissing her in front of God and a church full of people.
Because the ceremony was ostensibly a muggle one, the wizards in attendance had done their best to wear muggle-appropriate clothes. Dumbledore of course just wore his robes, but people seemed to accept that he was some sort of vicar that wore strange robes. Molly Weasley had threatened her offspring within an inch of their lives to behave themselves, and Snape counted himself lucky to get off with just a few small fireworks going off during said kiss. They were the same fireworks the boys had set off when Gryffindor had won the house cup just a few weeks previous, so they didn't worry Snape in the slightest. He didn't really notice anyway, his eyes had been for Fiona only.
And now, after an evening of dancing and feasting, it was down to just the two of them in this room. Alone. They had been so careful to remain respectable and beyond reproach during their courtship, and now it seemed so strange to be alone with her. He felt faint when he thought about what they would soon be doing together. Snape wondered, not for the first time, if she would have agreed to slightly less respectability if he had asked; but he could never bring himself to ask it of her. So here they were, waiting to commence their marriage. Snape drained the second glass of wine.
Snape gave a startled yelp when Fiona exited the bathroom, wearing nothing but a shiny, light blue nightgown. It dipped a bit low in front but fell to nearly her ankles, and he found himself wanting to touch the soft fabric. With a blush, he realized he was going to be able to do so.
"Pour me a glass?" Fiona asked quietly, and Snape rushed to comply. "My father said this wine was quite good."
"I'm surprised he approves," Snape told her, handing her a glass of the richly colored liquid. "I thought men of the cloth didn't drink."
"All things 'n moderation," she smiled, dimpling. "He said it might help t' relax."
"Are you feeling relaxed?" he asked her, quirking an eyebrow.
"What do you think?" she laughed nervously. "A man is aboot tae see me bare as an egg for the first time. I'm terrified!"
"I don't think you have much to worry about," Snape answered, his eyes travelling appreciatively over her satin-covered curves.
She giggled, taking a drink of the wine. "Yer lad looked very nice in 'is kilt," she told him. "Wis 'e difficult tae convince t' wear it?"
"A bit," Snape admitted. "But when he realized that I was going to wear it, then he became more amenable. Sirius was excited to wear it, though he was put out not to be a groomsman, just an usher. I must admit, it was a bit odd to wear."
"Thank ye," she nodded, sipping her wine again. "I ken that it is nae yer tradition, but then again it widna dae fir us tae be wearing our robes, wid it?"
"As long as I didn't look too foolish," he admitted, fingering the edges of his kilt. He had worn it to please her, telling himself it was only a bit shorter than a robe, after all. But he found wearing it to actually be very different than robes after all. He felt lanky and unpoised in the kilt, and was afraid that his exposed knees looked nobby.
"Ye dinne look foolish," she told him, looking over her glass at him. "Ye look verra handsome."
Snape blushed at the compliment, and looked away. He was surprised how much it pleased him that his bride would find him handsome. He had always wanted to be valued for other things - his intelligence, cunning, and dry wit. But it made him blush that she found him handsome. And the wine made his stomach feel warm and comfortable, and hushed the small voice inside that told him that his nose was too beak-like and his hair too lank to be considered handsome.
"I ken whit we're gonnae dae tonight," she told him softly. "And I ken that neither of us have done it afore. 'Tis normal to be nervous, I think."
"I should think," Snape agreed.
"Maybe we could just hold each other a bit?" she asked nervously.
Snape, wordlessly, pulled her gently into his arms. He was seated and she was standing, so he had the odd sensation of bending his face up to kiss her. Giggling, she returned the kiss, and pressed her softness against him.
Suddenly, her stomach grumbled loudly, and she broke off the kiss. "I'm so sorry!" she blathered, flushing bright red.
"You didn't eat much at dinner," Snape told her softly. Summoning a small food box from across the room, he handed it to her. "I noticed you weren't eating much, and I assumed it was from all the excitement and nerves. So I had them pack you a to go box, and put stasis charms on it. It should still be warm."
"That was incredibly thoughtful," she told him, accepting the box with shining eyes.
"I figured this evening would be more fun for you if you weren't hungry."
"It will be," she confirmed. "Ye dinne mind, me eating now?"
"I believe we will have sufficient time for whatever we want after you eat," he told her with a nod. "Go ahead."
Fiona quickly ate the food he had saved for her, and then finished her wine. She was feeling warm and content, and not a little because her new husband had been so thoughtful. She gazed at him softly.
"Better?" he asked softly.
"Much," she answered.
"Molly Weasley told me that she didn't eat a bite at her wedding and then went to her bridal chambers hungry enough to eat the sheets, so I decided I would make sure the same fate didn't befall you."
"How did I get so lucky tae wed such a thoughtful man?"
"Well, it is in my best interest to have you not distracted," Snape told her, his eyes glinting. "I believe this might take a bit of concentration."
"Concentration?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes," he answered, his voice husky and deep. She watched as his fingers expertly unbuckled his belt, freeing himself from his kilt. He then removed his shirt, leaving his lean chest exposed to the candlelight. He advanced on her slowly, their eyes locked together. "I would like to have your undivided attention."
"You have it," she breathed.
"Come to bed with me," he invited, his voice thick with desire. "Let's figure out this next step together."
She hurried to respond to his invitation, and soon Snape found his hands caressing soft blue satin while their mouths locked together. Then his hand slipped below the soft blue satin and began caressing soft ivory skin.
"So beautiful," he whispered as his kisses trailed down her neck.
Fiona cried out as his long, elegant fingers found parts of her that were quite sensitive to touch. She rolled on her back, welcoming him closer.
"Fiona . . ." he said, his voice cracking from restraint. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Don't stop now," she told him breathlessly, pulling him close.
Snape didn't.
. . .
A few minutes later, they lay together, their breaths beginning to calm. Snape, trying to ground himself in reality again after the completely unexpected level of ecstasy he had experienced, turned to his wife.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly.
"A bit," she admitted, crinkling her brow in thought. "But it felt really good up until that last bit."
"For me that was a revelation," Snape admitted quietly. "I had never understood what all the fuss was about."
Fiona laughed softly. "I hear it's only meant tae hurt me the first time."
Snape echoed the soft laugh. "Give me a few minutes, and maybe we can try again."
"How did ye know what tae dae?" she asked him suddenly. "You seemed to know exactly what my body would feel."
"I read a few books," Snape admitted. "If you must have a bridegroom as inexperienced as I am, the least I could do was to brush up as much as possible about the subject."
"Yer inexperience is actually pretty attractive to me," Fiona answered him, propping up her head and meeting his steady gaze. "I never pictured myself as some romance novel lass waiting for the big bad conqueror with many notches on his headboard tae come and take her virginity. I would much rather we did like ye said - we figured it out together."
"I'm glad to hear that," he nodded at her.
"However, those are some good books," she told him with a smile.
"They have several different techniques described," Snape told her, his smile crooked. "Ways to help you enjoy it as much as I."
"Sounds intriguing," she told him, purposely letting the blanket fall to her waist. "What techniques would those be?"
"May I demonstrate, Madam?" he asked, his voice pitching deeper again.
"You may," she answered, welcoming him back into her arms.