DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

~xXx~

Revolting.

That was the choice adjective Molly Weasley would have called this ridiculous behavior as Hermione poured herself another tall glass of Firewhiskey.

Absolutely revolting.

Hand trembling, she took a tiny sip, wincing at the brief burning sensation the alcohol provided for the back of her throat. She could only imagine how furious Harry would be if he caught, let alone knew, how she was acting this very moment – partially naked in nothing but shorts and a bra while sitting on her bed, with nothing but strong liquor for company. Emotional as her friend was, Hermione was sure he'd give her a good verbal thrashing.

Well, Harry Potter could go screw himself if that was the case.

Because who the hell was he to rage at a grieving widow?

Throat tightening, she took another sip, the fateful scene of Ron's coffin lowering into the moist earth replaying itself over and over as she tried to calm her racing mind down.

A sharp knock echoed within the stilled silence.

Expelling a sigh, Hermione stood up and, rather clumsily, guided her way out of the room and into the small living room attached to her even smaller kitchen. A small lamp providing her only source of light as she peered through the peephole, immediately recognizing the "asshole" that already irritated her just by knocking on her flat's front door.

"Oh, shite." cursed Hermione quietly.

The knocking became more persistent, as if the person on the either side could sense her annoyance.

Rolling her eyes, she unlocked the door, yanking it open. "What do you want?"

Even her own voice sounded unnatural to herself, and that terrified Hermione.

Scowling down at the insolent witch, Severus Snape gently pushed her aside as he crossed the threshold. "What do I want?" he whispered fiercely as he whirled around to face her, his dark eyes boring into her own light ones. "What do I want?"

He slammed the door shut, so powerfully that it almost rattled the doorknob off its position, and snatched the bottle out of her grasp. Eyes wide, Hermione gasped as he violently flung the bottle across the room, shattering it against the white wall which a couple portraits occupied.

Paralyzed to the core, she watched as he also made quick work of the cup she'd been holding with her other hand, pouring the rest of its contents into the sink. His penetrating gaze daring her to stop him.

She knew better than to try.

Once finished with his task, Severus grasped the witch by her slender shoulders and pushed her to the couch, where she sat obediently. "What I want…," he began in a hoarse voice as he crouched down in front of her. "Is for you to get ahold of yourself. This has to stop, Hermione. Mourn if you must, but not like this. Never like this. It isn't safe for… "

He pressed the palm of his hand against her abdomen, caressing the swollen muscle that housed the precious life from within.

She was eight months pregnant. And drinking.

Revolting!

"I know." whispered the heartbroken witch, not even attempting to wipe away the silent tears that fell from her eyes. She covered his hand with her own. "I know."

"He's gone. Nothing will change that."

Hermione couldn't hold it in anymore as she sobbed uncontrollably, not even trying to resist the strong hands that pulled her in and held her close as she slid into his lap, taking comfort in the arms of the Potions Master.

"I'm not going anywhere, love." She could feel the tendrils of magic ensconcing the both of them, signifying his oath as he spoke the whispered words against the top of her head. "I'm right here."

"I miss him so much, Severus." She felt his arms tighten around her as she clung to him fiercely. "So much…"

"I know, love, I know."

"What am I going to do?" she sniffed. "I've no money, no job – whatever tiny amount of fortune Ronald left me won't be enough to cover the rent and loans… Oh, Severus!" Biting back another sob, she buried her face into his chest.

"There is another solution, Hermione. One that you are most likely to disagree with. But if you trust me – put your faith in me… I can assure you a financial security."

"But how, Severus? It's all so much… And I don't want your money." Her voice became hurt with humiliation at the thought of having to borrow from him.

"What I'm about to propose isn't a charity offer, Hermione. In the end, it is ultimately what I'll get from you that will make all the difference."

"What could I possibly give you that is so valuable, Severus?"

"Your hand in marriage."

~xXx~

Severus Snape was in love with Hermione Weasley. Had been for quite some time now.

It all began after the fall of Voldemort's second-age tyranny that he'd found it impossibly harder to ignore the fact that this brilliant girl was no longer a child, but a woman. And a beautiful one at that. Capable of facing danger and escaping death with a sharp mind and quick thinking, she deserved it all. To Snape, there was no finer heroine who fearlessly ran against the chaos of war than that of Hermione Granger.

And yet she denied what she rightfully deserved, formally telling the Ministry that all she wanted was peace and rest, not gold and glory.

He had been recovering in the hospital wing when he'd read the front page story, amazed beyond words that the little know-it-all chit would deny the highest prestige only bestowed upon seasoned wizards or witches. Even more amazing was the fact that she appeared at his bedside almost every day, insisting that she was only here to help the Madam Pomphrey with the wounded, yet voicing a list of questions that she so desperately wanted answering to.

"You won't talk to Harry," she began her mandatory check of his pulse and throat where a nasty scar visibly screamed back at her. "Perhaps I can persuade you to talk to me."

"And what makes you think I'd tell you anything, Miss Granger?" Gods, did his voice really sound that bad at the moment?

"You're not the only one with skeletons in your closet, Professor. Besides," she held up several new issues of potions articles that he had been itching to read during his tenure as a double agent and headmaster these last two years. "I think I can pay handsomely."

And so began their heated debates well into the following winter and spring. Hermione wanted to earn whatever N.E.W.T.s she'd been denied of while on the run from Voldemort, the resulting effort involving a whole extra year of studious diligence as Hogwarts and staff tried to rebuild the horrors of a brutal battle. Snape himself had finally retired from the educational business, having used whatever money he'd left in his savings to open his own apothecary shop in London. Remedial potions were in high demand these days. A shame really, since the war was over.

From there on, an odd sort of friendship had blossomed between them. Hermione, he grudgingly admitted, had become the one true highlight of his recovery. Snape had already known she was a master student involved with any and every Hogwarts curriculum (save for Divination) but a hellcat on fire once you get her started on arousing debates. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been swept through such passionate conversations.

She took him walking outside on the school grounds whenever the weather was presentable. Whatever weight he had lost over the years took no effort to gain back where Hermione was concerned, stuffing him full of hearty broths, juices and dairy. Once he had felt strong enough to get back on his feet, she would whisk him away for some fresh air, far from prying eyes and ears as they confided about… anything, really.

"I've got some exciting news to share." They had taken a liking to strolling around the lake arm-in-arm once the awkwardness had faded.

He looked down into her smiling face and briefly wondered if the jump in his heart was a natural reaction as she flashed the back of her hand to him, displaying the thin band full of tiny glittering diamonds.

He smirked, yet deep down inside he felt... hurt. Why? Was it because Hermione Granger would be graduating within a week's time and would never see him again? Or was it something else entirely? "Congratulations."

"You'll be there, won't you? At the wedding?"

The fact that he would have to endure the sight of Ronald bloody Weasley exchanging vows with the woman he only now realized he cared for a great deal was more than he wanted to bear.

But he nodded his head, like any decent friend would, and they continued their walk in silence as they were bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight.

~xXx~

He'd be lying to himself if he said it hadn't hurt.

Hermione Granger, no – Weasley – had looked absolutely breathtaking in her bright wedding dress as she was ushered back down the aisle of the Great Hall by her new charming husband, the smiles they wore only for each other as friends and family alike showered them with rice grains and petals. Poor Filch. Never could get a day's rest from cleaning after something, the old squib.

The reception by the lake was a largely entertaining affair as wine and conversation flowed freely. Hermione had not yet released her new husband's hand as they paraded through the crowd while simultaneously greeting their guests. Snape mostly kept to himself with Flitwick or McGonagall for company. Hero or not, he was still a snarky bastard. It would be a miracle if anyone boosted up enough courage to approach him with ease.

The newlywed couple had the honor of the first dance, of course. Snape couldn't help but notice how at ease and blissful Hermione appeared to be within the security of Weasley's arms as she rested against him, eyes closed, the both of them moving slowly in sync as they allowed their love to enfold them.

He swallowed hard.

Would Hermione ever feel at ease if it was him she was dancing with, and not the weasel?

She kept in touch with him, much to his surprise. Her new flat was nothing more than twenty blocks away from where he acquired his own apothecary shop within the busy streets that was Muggle London. According to Hermione, her husband was trying to land a Keeper's position on the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team, which required serious amounts of training on the field with seasonal players and, unfortunately, less quality time with his wife.

"I don't really mind," she assured him one day, watching as he dumped several lethal ingredients into a large cauldron at the back of his shop. One year had already passed since the wedding, and by then Snape had established a respectable potions business within the city and profited a great deal by it. "They don't pay him well, but he's happy with what he's doing."

She told him of her plans in possibly up-taking a minor position within the Charms Research and Facility Program, but in the end, had changed her mind.

"Why?" he asked as she assisted him in chopping asphodel roots. At twenty-one years old, the time for pursuing a solid career was better now than never.

It had taken quite the convincing on her part to Ronald before the mother of all curve balls caught them both by surprise as Hermione uttered the words that were, to this day, her greatest revelation.

"I'm pregnant."

Several months later, it would be a freak accident involving a fire that would ultimately take her husband away from her.

~xXx~

Molly had been livid, absolutely livid, when Hermione relayed her acceptance of a rather expeditious marriage proposal, from Severus Snape no less. The plump witch's voice practically echoing within the many acres of field that sequestered her little house from the village.

"Have you no shame?" She had raged at the two of them, her fiery eyes flashing to Hermione without batting an eyelash. "Have you no honor and commitment to your husband's memory? I suppose two weeks mourning wasn't satisfactory for the likes of our precious daughter-in-law, eh?"

"Molly," the warning hovered upon Arthur Weasley's tone yet he too looked affronted by what Hermione and Severus planned to do.

"You know why I'm doing this," Hermione softly reasoned with her. "This is a marriage of convenience only, Molly. Nothing more."

Snape winced. To him, this marriage would be more than just some bloody convenience. Hermione Weasley was to become his wife.

His wife!

But Molly wasn't having it. "Your parents would be ashamed of you, Hermione." The words couldn't have been colder than a blizzard. "So ashamed of you."

And with that in mind, Hermione took her leave, a furious Severus following her lead as he shot both the red-heads a contemptuous glare before flooing himself and his fiancee back to her flat.

"Hermione," Severus began as he touched her hand, but she quickly retreated to her bedroom, the door shutting quietly behind her.

John and Jean Granger had been murdered by Death Eaters while she and Harry had been on the hunt for hocruxes.

~xXx~

They were married the following month later, and Hermione successfully completed her third trimester of pregnancy, allieviating Severus's anxiety for complications. Hermione must deliver the child safely. The child who also belonged to Ronald Weasley; her first, and possibly only, lover.

She had refused to take off her original wedding ring, and Severus did not pressure her.

As promised, Severus took care of all her late husband's debts within the second week of their engagement, and while he had fulfilled his end of the deal, Hermione knew that the only way she could ever repay him in kind was to act like the dutiful, supportive wife that he deserved.

Her new home at Spinner's End was, much to her surprise, comfortable and accommodating. The dreadful childhood Severus had endured had been barely tolerable to hear, and yet, as she sat down in front of the modest fireplace, watching as the intimidating man that was her husband drew off his cape and rested it atop his own high chair across from her, she couldn't help but wonder.

How could such a seemingly cruel and uncaring man be so kind and invested into her well-being?

Dressed in his signature black clothing, Severus grasped Hermione's hands within his own larger ones, pulling her up to stand in front of him. The soft glow from the hearth illuminating his sharp features as he gazed down at her with such penetrating eyes that Hermione found it impossible to look away. Shifting her attention down to their hands, she stared at the wedding band that gleamed from his ring finger, and sighed.

"Hermione..."

She closed her eyes, the pain of Ron's passing briefly forgotten as he ran the palms of his hands up her exposed arms, marveling at how wearing a simple sleeveless dress that accommodated her swollen midsection could arouse him still. Tucking a finger underneath her chin, Severus lifted her face to look at him before lowering his head to kiss her.

The feel of his lips upon hers was neither forceful nor aggressive, Hermione noticed. Rather, hesitant and searching as Severus cupped the back of her head gently, encouraging her. They hadn't kissed at the wedding, not in the traditional fashion, anyway. A brief peck on the cheek was all they were required to do since it was the most informal wedding known to the wizarding world, with only the Minister of Magic securing their bond of holy matrimony and an employee of Severus's as a witness. Only now Hermione knew the extent of affection Severus had been denied as he deepened the kiss, eliciting a groan from her as she placed her hands against his chest.

Severus desired her.

But just as quickly as it began it ended, and Severus pulled away from her with a shuddering breath, his eyes darkening with regret. Without a word, he turned and walked away, glancing longingly over his shoulder before closing the door to the sitting room behind him.

The first week of marriage between them was somewhat awkward at times, but never uncomfortable. Hermione fulfilling the role as a housewife without any complaint. Severus left for work every morning at eight o'clock sharp before his wife carried out the standardize cleaning and cooking of their humble abode. Severus made Hermione swore that she wouldn't overexert herself in anything while he was away, much to her amusing chagrin. Regardless of her stubborn nature, she knew when she was pushing her luck. Hermione also made it very clear that they would not be acquiring the aid of a house elf, no matter how convenient.

They occupied the same bedroom and bed. Severus had gone out of his way to prepare the guest bedroom into her own private suite before she moved in, letting her know that she was always welcomed to his quarters if she chose to come. Hermione had been adamant that it was not necessary, stating the obvious fact that they were a married couple now and should act like it.

"If I'm sharing your name then I'm sharing your bed," she affirmed on their wedding night, waiting patiently for him to slide under the covers next to her as she marked her magazine in place before laying it on the nightstand. Hesitant, Severus joined her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist after she extinguished the lamp, grateful that she did not reject his touch, and closed his eyes.

He didn't dare try to consummate their marriage that first night, or the night after that.

~xXx~

Severus was moving between several cauldrons full of restorative potions when a barn owl fly through the window, carrying a note of most importance attached to its scrawny leg.

My water just broke. Please come home.

Hastily folding the note, Severus barked at his assistant manager to hold down the shop as he quickly apparated home.

Originally, Hermione had planned to give birth at the Burrow due to it being a Weasley family tradition. Severus insisted otherwise, stating that it would ease his concern for her and the baby's safety if she were under the care of professional medi-witches at St. Mungo's. At this point, Hermione thought, as she paced the small confines of her hospital room in nothing but a hospital gown, she could've cared less where her little one was born. She just wanted a healthy birth and baby.

"But this is the first and last time I'll be doing this," she groaned with a smile, wincing as another painful contraction racked her body. Severus never left her side for an instant, keeping a supportive arm around her waist as they walked in sync together.

In the end her husband couldn't agree more as Hermione's screams echoed throughout the hospital wing as she strained to deliver her child, teeth clenching with determination. Despite what people thought of her charmingly kind nature, Hermione knew every curse word up the river that would make even the proudest of sailors blush.

He had intended to wait outside of the delivery room once the contractions started to get worse, knowing that only the father of Hermione's child should have the privilege of being there. Yet it was he whom his little wife yearned for at her side as she grasped his hand, encouraging him to stay by her side with tear-filled eyes. She was in so much pain! And it was killing him that he could do nothing about it.

"Don't go," she whispered, voice weak with exhaustion, her back propped up against the pillows of her bed.

And so he stayed, his hand never letting go of hers.

Little Rosabelle Jean Weasley was born six pounds, five ounces with a lung capacity that could rival any mandrake as she entered the world screaming, the doctor placing the infant into Hermione's arms. Her mother cuddling her closely against her chest as she rested the baby's skin against her own. It was impossible to hold back the tears.

With the doctor's encouragement, Severus severed the umbilical cord with his wand, watching as the assistant medi-witch took the baby to be cleaned off before swaddling her in a small red blanket. "Congratulations," she smiled at Severus, handing the little one over to him, who in turn, quickly relinquished the now quieting infant back into Hermione's awaiting arms, watching as mother and daughter establish a bond with one another.

In truth, Hermione's one true regret up to this point was that Ron would never get to hold the little miracle they had created out of their love, never get to play and talk with her as she grew up, but now, as she stared down into the light eyes of her baby, she knew that a part of Ron would always be with her, and that he had always been with her even before and after the incident.

Little Rosabelle served as the bridge for that special connection.

"Hey, baby girl," Hermione whispered, her eyes shining as her little one gazed up at her with starry eyes. "Welcome to the real world."

She looked over at Severus, who sat patiently at her side once more, and smiled. "Thank you."

For taking care of me. For being there for me.

A gentle kiss to her forehead was his response.

~xXx~

Severus did it all. From cooking and cleaning to changing nappies, he had made it an obligation to help Hermione in whatever way he could as he trimmed the bushes one sunny afternoon, listening to the infant'smell pitiful cries as Hermione tried, in vain, to calm her down.

Rosie had been home for over two months now, and the apothecary shop continued to thrive under Severus's intense business trade despite him currently working from home, at least for Hermione's sake. Raising babies was largely underrated compared to the way they portrayed it in the Muggle movies; Hermione was lucky to get in five hours a night if she could. Rosie's appetite knew no bounds, yet she was so tiny!

Harry and Ginny swung by the hospital shortly after the birth, of course. Regardless of how her parents might have felt about their former daughter-in-law, Ginny loved Hermione like a sister, as did Harry. The both of them cooing over the sleeping infant as Ginny cradled her against her chest. Harry grinned, watching as Rosie grasped his finger in a vice-like grip, her little mouth opened wide as she yawned. "She's absolutely beautiful, Hermione. Ron…" He pushed back the lump that was beginning to form inside his throat. "Ron would be proud."

Would he? Hermione now wondered with a frown. Her ears ringing as the baby continued to wail in her arms as she tried bouncing her up and down while rubbing her back. She had been terribly fussy for the last few days with a fever and Hermione was beginning to feel helpless.

"I'll start dinner in a minute," she told her husband as he stepped inside their parlor. "Once this one calms down a bit."

If possible, Rosie screamed even louder.

Without a word Severus relinquished his gloves and shears before taking the baby from Hermione, holding her at arms-length as he stared down in mock irritation. "Over-exaggerating now, are we?" He pressed her against his shoulder. "Don't worry about dinner and rest," he tells his wife. "I'll take care of Rosie."

Pecking a quick kiss to Hermione's cheek, Severus bounded up the stairs, the baby's cries bouncing off the walls as they vanished out of sight. Once the satisfying close of the nursery door could be heard, Hermione collapsed onto the sofa with loud sigh and closed her eyes.

People could say what they wanted about her insulting bloke of a husband, but Severus was a God-send at times.

Gasping, she awoke, sitting up from her strange position on the sofa. The darkened chill of the living room giving the faint impression that it was almost midnight. Pulling off the blanket (which had not been covering her earlier) she stood up, yawning as she stretched out her arms. Whether by habit or instinct, Hermione knew that Rosie was due for a good feeding right about now as she quietly walked up the stairs, pausing as she approached the door to the nursery.

Was that… singing she heard?

Peaking between the six-inch slit of the open door and doorframe, she watched, transfixed as Severus slowly walked around the room, with little Rosie lying contentedly in his arms as she sucked on a bottle full of something that definitely wasn't breast milk, her blue eyes fixed upon the man who sang to her in a low, baritone voice. His dark eyes were gazing down at the baby with such a fierce gentleness that Hermione closed her mouth and willed herself to calm down as she breathed through her nose.

"Slowly, Little Siren," Severus quietly encouraged, sitting down in the rocking chair next to the changing table. "Took me a week to brew this medicine, but it should be able to help you feel and sleep better now. Good girl, slowly now."

He gently positioned the baby into a vertical position as he cradled the back of her head with his left hand while feeding her with the other. "That's it, almost there. Papa's got you. Papa loves you." He sat the bottle aside once she'd finish, nuzzling her with his hawkish nose and loving the infant smell of her. "Papa will always be here to take care of you and your mother."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and Hermione felt the insides of her stomach clench at the sight. "And someday, Little Siren," Severus continued in a secretive tone. "I'm going to tell you all about how I fell in love with her." Hermione's heart lurched inside her chest. "I wish I could just tell her," he continued in a quiet voice. "Tell her how I truly feel, but I'm no good with words, so I try to show it with little actions, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she'll come to return my affections. If not…"

He paused, and Hermione waited with abated breath, watching as he positioned Rosie comfortably against his shoulder so that he could burp her. "It still won't change how I feel. I will love her until the day I die – always."

Severis hugged the little one close, and Hermione felt her raging emotions spiraling out of control within her. Did her husband really mean what he said? She carefully pulled away from the door and headed back downstairs, pondering.

~xXx~

She had been lying in bed when he came inside their bedroom, listening as he perused around in his usual nighttime ritual of heading inside the bathroom to change his clothes and brush his teeth. Save for the faint moonlight shining through their window it was pitch black, and Hermione wanted to give off the impression that she was indeed fast asleep when her husband slid into bed next to her, her back facing him.

Severus sighed deeply, and Hermione swallowed her pride before turning over to face him, catching his attention. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He sounded a tiny bit regretful. "Are you thirsty? Shall a fetch you a cup of water?"

At Hermione's continuing silent treatment he sat up, looking down at her through his large nose as his eyebrows furrowed together with worry. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She reached up a hand in response, her fingers caressing his nose and mouth as he stiffened beside her. "Nothing," she answered, arising into a kneeling position, and Severus felt his breath catch as the moon illuminated the outline of her naked body to him. "Absolutely nothing."

Holy mother of God.

Gently grasping the sides of his face, Hermione pressed her lips against his, pushing her tongue into his mouth. He cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss. A moan of exhilaration escaping her.

A hunger unlike any other overcame Severus as he threw off the covers and rolled Hermione underneath him, grinding his cladded hips against hers as he ran his hands all over her body, and her breasts – sweet Circe, her breasts…

Sighing contently, Hermione relished the feeling of his sensuous lips upon her skin as he sucked on her neck. It had been so long since she'd felt this way with anyone that she was almost sorry for not bequeathing Severus this special privilege sooner. "Yes." She ran the palm of her hands across his back. This man who deserved so much and more for all he'd done for the Greater Good. "Yes!"

After spending a fair amount of attention to her chest and stomach, Severus forced himself away long enough to discard his pants, his eyes feasting upon her womanhood like a man starved. Lowering his head, he began servicing her with his mouth, relishing the feel of her nails caressing his long tresses.

"Severus…"

He looked up, and her eyes shined with an unnamed emotion.

"Please."

Biting his lower lip, he stretched up and kissed her, their fingers interlocking together as she rested them on either side of her head. Not wanting to lose another second he thrusted into her warmth, fueled by the words he so longingly wanted to hear from the moment he exchanged vows with this brilliant, beautiful witch as he groaned brokenly, moving in a tantalizing rhythm within her.

Severus Snape was indeed in love with his wife.

And he planned on showing her just how much for the rest of the night.

~xXx~

One more chapter, folks!

Constructive criticism is always appreciated.