Disclaimer: JKR owns it all. I'm just having fun.

A/N: Let the fluff begin ...


Chapter Seven

August 5, 1998
Chelsea, London


Hermione stood in the centre of the sitting room of her new home, her hands resting on her hips. The spacious two-bedroom flat had been terribly expensive, but Severus had insisted that he could well afford the price. It was certainly large enough for the two—soon to be three—of them, and by Transfiguring a sofa into a bed, they could even entertain the occasional overnight guest. The flat was in a small wizarding building, and there were several other families with young children in residence. It was perfect.

Hermione grinned in satisfaction as Severus, Harry, Ginny, and Ron placed the various pieces of furniture to her specifications. After rejecting several different arrangements, she finally voiced her approval.

“It looks fabulous!”

“About time,” Ron muttered before collapsing onto one of the two new cream-coloured sofas and propping his feet on the black coffee table.

“Kindly remove your filthy shoes from my furniture,” Severus said blandly. A wave of his wand and a nonverbal spell pushed Ron’s feet from the table.

Ron flushed and grumbled under his breath but wisely kept his feet on the floor.

“Oh, it looks lovely,” Eileen said as she walked into the room from the kitchen. “And just in time, too. Dinner is ready.”

Soon, they were all seated around the table Severus had temporarily enlarged. Hermione smiled as her husband sat next to her, leaning his new walking stick against the wall behind him and then draping his arm across the back of her chair. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple, then raised an eyebrow as if daring anyone to comment.

No one said a word.

Hermione ravenously ate the trout fillet with caper sauce that Eileen had prepared. Her morning sickness had all but disappeared, and her appetite had returned with a vengeance. She smiled gratefully at Eileen for making a dish with capers—Hermione could not get enough of the salty little buds—and then she speared another piece of the tender fish from the serving plate.

“Hungry?” Severus murmured, his lips twitching in amusement.

Laughing, Hermione replied, “Always.”

The small, lopsided smile she so adored made a brief appearance, and then he returned to his meal.

Hermione smiled around her fork as she looked about the table. She was grateful for each and every person present. Her parents had not reacted well to the news of their only child’s marriage and impending motherhood. They had been wary of her since the return of their memories, and this provided them with the excuse to sever contact as they struggled to come to terms with all that had happened. Hermione had known it would be difficult for her parents to accept, but she had not anticipated being cut out of their lives, no matter how temporary they claimed it to be. Severus and the group gathered around the table had quickly stepped in to become Hermione’s support system—her family. Even with the current situation with her parents, Hermione could not remember a time when she had felt so content.

When everyone had eaten their fill, the boys volunteered to do the washing up, and Severus retired with his mother to one of the sofas.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, “have you seen the veranda? There’s a lovely view.”

“I’d love to!” the red-haired witch replied. She picked up her drink and linked her arm with Hermione’s as they walked to the outdoor terrace.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Ginny exclaimed as she set her glass on the small outside table.

The veranda overlooked the building’s communal garden, a large grassed area with beautiful shade trees and flowerbeds that were blooming with autumn colour. Access to such a lovely outdoor space whilst living inside the city had been the deciding factor when Hermione and Severus had selected the flat.

The two young women sat in the wrought iron chairs that Hermione had purchased for the veranda.

“How are you, Hermione? Harry said you’re finally feeling better.”

“Yes, thank goodness! I’ve had no more infections, and Healer Attewell says I’m as healthy as a Hippogriff. The morning sickness is gone, but now I’m hungry all the time.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “This must be how Ron feels!”

Ginny laughed. “At least you have a reason! You’re eating for two. What’s Ron’s excuse?”

“He’s a growing boy,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Well, I hope he stops growing soon, or he’ll be as big as Grawp!” Ginny grinned, and then her smile softened. “You look happy. I’m glad.”

“Thanks, Gin. I am happy.” Hermione placed her hand on Ginny’s and gave it a squeeze.

“How are things with Professor Snape? Going well?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, her face flushing as she shyly smiled. “Very well, actually.”

Ginny looked at her thoughtfully. “He seems different now. More relaxed, I suppose … except when it comes to that walking stick,” she teased.

“That thing is going to be the death of me,” Hermione said, her tone exasperated but fond. “He hates it. Fortunately, he can usually get around without it.”

Severus’ recovery had been swift, thanks to the potions and rehabilitation techniques left by Healer Attewell. He had been stoic when it became obvious that the damage to his right leg had left him with a permanent limp, only letting his frustration show when they were alone. Typically he got around well enough, but the end of the day often necessitated the use of a walking stick, particularly when he was tired, which Severus steadfastly resented. His smooth, elegant glide was a thing of the past, and it pained Hermione that it bothered him so.

“Has he decided what he’s going to do next?” Ginny asked.

“Not yet. He’s had several offers from various apothecaries, as well as quite a few departments at the Ministry. Minerva contacted him last week and asked if he would be interested in returning to Hogwarts.”

“Really? How does he feel about that?”

Hermione shrugged. “He hasn’t said anything about it, but I can’t imagine that he’d want to go back. There are just too many bad memories.”

Ginny nodded, her expression pensive. “I can certainly understand that.”

Hermione agreed. “I’m actually hoping that Severus will take a job at the Ministry, because I accepted a position in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“Congratulations, Hermione! When do you start?”

“Next week,” she replied. “They’ve been very accommodating, and I’ll have six months off after the baby is born. After that, I’ll go in three days a week until he’s a bit older. Eileen has volunteered to watch him, which will be lovely.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ginny said. “Do you think Severus will go to the Ministry with you, then?”

Hermione laughed. “No. That’s just wishful thinking. I fully expect him to eventually decide to venture out on his own, much like his mother did, and perhaps start his own apothecary. I think he would enjoy being his own boss.”

Ginny nodded, and then clapped her hands together. “All right, enough of that. It’s time for some serious girl talk.” Ginny moved her chair so that she faced Hermione more directly and then leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Tell me all about it!”

Hermione blinked in confusion. “About what?”

Ginny’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “It. How is it? I mean, I know the baby was conceived with a spell, but you’re married and living together now … so, how is it?”

“Ginevra Weasley!” Hermione exclaimed, scandalised that her friend would ask such a personal question.

Ginny waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. Stop being such a prude and just tell me!”

Hermione remained silent.

“Come on,” Ginny whinged. “Mum hasn’t left me alone with Harry since the war ended, and with school starting up again … well, I’m doomed to be a virgin on my wedding night. Not for lack of trying on my part, though.” She crossed her arms and pouted. “The least you could do is let me live vicariously through you.”

Hermione sighed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to do that with, Gin. I’ve been dealing with a similar problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Hermione could not believe she was about to share her most intimate secrets, but she forged ahead. “We haven’t … erm … you know.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “At all?”

Hermione groaned, knowing that her friend was not going to let this go. “Do you want specifics? Fine. There are some … physical displays of affection, but nothing more. Yes, we’ve shared a bed, but Severus adamantly refused to consummate the marriage with his mother sleeping in the room across the hall.”

“Couldn’t he have cast a Silencing Charm?” Ginny asked bluntly.

“One would think,” Hermione muttered. “He made it clear it was not going to happen while were staying with Eileen. Now that we have our own flat, I’m hoping that maybe tonight—”

Ginny jumped to her feet. “What the hell are you talking to me for? Let me get the boys, and we’ll leave you to it!”

Hermione laughed as Ginny grabbed her hand and hauled her to feet before dragging her back inside the flat. Once inside, the red-haired witch marched to the sitting area.

“Harry, Ron. Let’s go.”

“Ginny!” Hermione gasped; she had thought the young witch had been joking.

“What’s the rush?” Harry said, standing as his girlfriend tugged at his hand.

“It’s been a long, stressful day. Hermione needs to rest,” Ginny said shortly. “Now let’s go.”

“Hermione?”

Hermione groaned at the sound of her husband’s voice. Ginny had spoken the only two words guaranteed to have Hermione tucked into bed for a long night’s sleep faster than Harry could spot a Snitch: “stress” and “rest”.

“I’m fine.”

Severus raised an imperious brow and then turned to the group of family and friends. “All right. Everyone out. Hermione needs to rest.”

Just as she had suspected, Severus herded everyone up and all but pushed them into the hallway and toward the door. Goodbyes, thanks, and apologies were quickly exchanged as they moved down the hallway, and Eileen managed to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek before Severus unceremoniously informed them all that time was up and to get out. Ginny gave Hermione a rueful glance and mouthed, “Sorry,” as Severus began to close the door.

“Bye, Hermione!” Harry called out, laughing as the door slammed shut.

Severus turned to her with a frown, his eyes intent upon her face. “Are you all right? You look pale. Maybe you should go lie down.”

Hermione held up a hand. “I’m fine.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” He took her hand and led her back to the sitting room where he seated her on one of the sofas. “Sit here. I shall return.”

“Where are you—”

He disappeared into the kitchen.

“—going?”

Hermione sighed and kicked off her shoes, then tucked her legs underneath her.

Severus returned with two cups of tea. He handed one to her and then sat beside her. “What will it be tonight, The Tales of Beedle the Bard or Naming the Wee Witch and Wizard?” he asked, setting his teacup on the table.

Hermione sipped the warm liquid, smiling as she noticed he had remembered how she liked it. She placed her cup next to his and scooted closer, pressing to his side. “No more baby names. We have plenty of time to choose a name.”

“Beedle the Bard it is then,” Severus said.

He was about to go to the bookshelf to retrieve the book when Hermione placed her hand on his arm.

“I really don’t feel much like reading,” she said, running her fingers along his arm. She could feel his warmth radiating through the fine linen shirtsleeve—she wished she could feel it on her skin.

“No?”

“No,” she replied as her wandering fingers drew small circles on the back of his hand.

“What would you like?” Severus asked, his voice deepening to a sensual purr.

She knew what she wanted—him—but even though she was married and pregnant, she was a novice in the art of seduction. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and then raised her gaze to meet his.

That lopsided smile returned to his face, but now it was slow and lazy. Severus lifted a hand to cup her cheek and gently rubbed his thumb along the corner of her mouth until she released the abused flesh with a breathy sigh.

“Please,” he said, “allow me.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he dipped his head, and when he tenderly drew her lower lip into his warm mouth, she made a sound between a whimper and a moan. His teeth scraped the captured lip, nibbling, then he kissed her in earnest until she was gasping for breath. Her fingers found purchase in the material of his shirt, and she held on for dear life as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She wound a hand into the hair at the back of his head, wanting more, tugging insistently as her whimpers multiplied. He emitted a low growl in response, and the hand that had been cradling her face began to move, slipping downward to her neck. And then …

Hermione inhaled sharply, and her eyes flew open before they closed again in mindless pleasure as his fingers caressed the binding mark on the nape of her neck.

Oh my.

His mouth left hers, and she turned her head to follow.

Don’t go. More.

He evaded her, his lips skittering along her jaw to her ear, just barely touching her sensitised skin.

“What would you like, Hermione?” he repeated, his breath hot against her neck as his fingers continued to stroke the mark.

She shuddered, melting under his sensual assault.

You … you … you.

His deep chuckle resonated in her ear. “Once was satisfactory, dear one.”

*******

Hermione snuggled closer as Severus held her, her back to his front. One large hand rested on her bare stomach, his long fingers splaying over the small bump. She sighed in contented satisfaction, savouring the feel of his skin against hers. She felt boneless, completely sated, and very much adored.

“I can’t believe you made me wait for that,” she murmured sleepily.

Severus laughed softly. “You didn’t know what you were missing.”

“I do now.”

He slid the hand on her stomach along her sweat-dampened skin, his caress gentle and soothing. “I am more than happy to accommodate you at any time.”

“Good.” She yawned. “I love you,” she said as her eyes slipped shut.

As she drifted to sleep, she thought she heard him whisper, “I love you, too.”

---

October 10, 1998
Ministry for Magic, London


Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap.

“I hate this bloody stick.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I do not understand why you insisted that I use it tonight.”

“Because you were so nervous last night that you hardly slept a wink. You know as well as I that you will need the extra support by the end of the evening.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to toss the bloody thing in the rubbish bin at the earliest opportunity.”

“You will not!”

“I will.”

“Why do you hate it so?”

“I’m already almost twenty years older than you. It makes me feel like an old lecher.”

“That’s just silly, Severus. Loads of younger men use them.”

“Name one.”

“Erm … Lucius Malfoy!”

“Lucius Malfoy is a drama queen.”

“Says the man who charms his robes to billow.”

“Hermione—”

“I’m not wearing any knickers.”

“—listen …. What?”

“I said I’m not wearing any knickers.”

“…”

“What are you looking for?”

“Some place I can ravish you. You work here …. Where is a good spot?”

“Severus!”

“What?”

“You can ravish me at home, after you receive your Order of Merlin. Besides, I’m absolutely huge now; the only way to ravish me properly is in our own bed.”

“You are evil, madam. How in the hell do you expect me to concentrate on some meaningless ceremony when I know you’re not wearing any bloody knickers?”

“It made you forget about the walking stick, didn’t it?”

“You have been spending far too much time with the former head of Slytherin.”

“Indeed.”

---

November 14, 1998
Chelsea, London


“Alexander.”

“No.”

“Jacob.”

“No.”

“Simon.”

“Simon Snape? No. No alliterations.”

“Fine. No alliterations. Edward.”

“No.”

“Joseph.”

“No.”

“Duncan.”

“No.”

“Henry.”

“No.”

“Andrew.”

“No.”

“Michael.”

“No.”

“Wirathat.”

“No …. What?”

“Just making sure you were still paying attention. For Merlin’s sake, Severus. What name do you like?”

“This one.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Look at the meaning.”

“‘Son of my right hand.’ Oh, Severus. It’s perfect.”

“Shh, dear one. There’s no need to imitate a watering pot.”

---

December 24, 1998
The Burrow


“Hermione, Severus! Come in, come in. It’s bloody cold out there.” Bill quickly ushered them inside, shaking Severus’ hand and enfolding Hermione in a quick hug. “Mum’s waiting for you in the kitchen. I expect she wants to see how huge you are.”

Hermione laughed and stomped the snow from her boots, and then Severus helped her remove her cloak. She breathed in the scent of freshly baked gingerbread and smiled.

She adored spending Christmas at the Burrow. Having been raised an only child, Hermione had been accustomed to a very quiet, almost solemn observance of the holiday. The loud, boisterous celebration with the Weasleys intrigued, delighted, and horrified her … and she loved it.

“Molly,” she said as she waddled toward the older witch and embraced her, “the house looks amazing!”

“Thank you, dear. We thought Fred would have enjoyed all the decorations.” Molly’s words had been cheerfully spoken, but Hermione could see the lingering sadness in her eyes.

“He would have loved it,” Hermione said as she squeezed Molly’s hand. “It’s wonderful.”

And it was. The small sitting room was covered from floor to ceiling in all sorts of holiday decorations, and the entire room was illuminated by what seemed like thousands of twinkling fairy lights. The fireplace mantle was covered in holly and ivy and held eight stockings, one for each Weasley child and one more for Harry. A tree stood in the far corner, a tin star precariously perched on top. The room was beautiful … and very crowded.

The Burrow was near to bursting at the seams with people. Andromeda Tonks had brought little Teddy Lupin, who was being cooed over by a newly expecting Fleur. All of the Weasley boys were present—minus one—as were spouses and girlfriends. Ginny and Harry were off in a corner attempting to sneak in a snog whenever Molly wasn’t looking. George was helping in the effort by Charming mistletoe to hover over various heads, but Hermione soon noticed that Harry and Ginny were his favourite “victims.”

It was good to see George playing pranks, even if it made Fred’s absence feel all the more acute. It was even lovelier to see that he had brought a date, albeit a surprising one. Hermione watched as he tenderly grasped Luna’s hand, causing the eccentric young witch to smile at him with unrestrained happiness.

Even Ron had brought a date—Mandy Brocklehurst.

“Hermione, Professor!” Harry called out as he and Ginny finally came up for air.

There was a cacophony of voices as everyone greeted them, and then Severus guided Hermione into the room.

“How are you feeling, Hermione?” Ginny asked, her eyes widening at the sight of how huge her friend had become since she had last seen her.

“Tired,” Hermione said, “and my back hurts. I couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in last night, and I think I may have pulled a muscle or something.”

“That’s awful! Here, take my seat.” Ginny elbowed Harry, and they both vacated their position on the sofa.

She warily eyed the piece of furniture. It was terribly low. “If I sit there, I’ll never get up again.” Everyone laughed, but Hermione was serious. She would be stuck there forever.

She sighed. She wanted to sit down, yet she didn’t relish the idea of getting up again. Severus had not wanted to leave their flat for Christmas Eve dinner as she was so close to her due date, and Hermione now wondered if he had been right. She was feeling a bit off, but since she wasn’t having any contractions, she decided not to mention it to Severus until they returned home. Instead, she poked a finger at her extended belly. “You are going to be nothing but trouble.” A solid kick was her response.

“Ahem.”

She looked at Severus, who was watching her as if she were insane.

“Help me down, then,” she said, and he stepped forward to support her by the arm until she was finally seated on the low sofa.

“Dinner’s ready! Everyone into the kitchen.”

Hermione scowled and once again poked at the swollen protuberance that used to be her stomach. “You see? Nothing but trouble.”

*******

Dinner was a raucous affair, loud and boisterous and filled with laughter, and Hermione was thoroughly enjoying every moment. Even Severus appeared to be having a pleasant time, judging by his relaxed posture and the lack of stinging remarks to Harry and Ron.

Even though she was having a grand evening, Hermione picked at her food. She just wasn’t hungry for some reason, even though she loved Molly’s cooking. She shifted in her chair, drawing Severus’ attention.

He leaned toward her and asked, “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine, just a bit restless.” She laid her hand on his thigh, and he covered it with this own, entwining his fingers with hers.

Soon, the food had been cleared away, and George was once again sending his enchanted mistletoe to flit about the room and linger over the heads of various family members. Hermione could only assume that George had intended to send the mistletoe to hover over Charlie, who was seated on Severus’ right; however, the mistletoe had someone else in mind.

They had all just stood from the table, preparing to return to the sitting room, when the plant zoomed forward, lingering over Severus’ head. Sniggers and poorly disguised coughs could be heard throughout the kitchen, and Severus glowered fiercely.

Hermione could not help but laugh. “It’s all right, Severus. I’ll take care of that for you.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and stretched up onto her toes … and then she froze.

“Oh, no.” The blood drained from her face.

“Hermione?” Severus said, his eyes wide with concern.

She looked at him with a dazed expression. “My waters just broke.”

“Oh, no.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“We need to get to St Mungo’s.”

With Molly’s help, he found their cloaks and was assisting Hermione with her clasp when he noticed the mistletoe still hovering over his head.

“Damn it! Get that thing off me!” Severus bellowed at no one in particular as he swiped at the offending plant. When it immediately returned to its position above his head, he growled and said, “Sod it.” He kissed Hermione briefly but soundly, then destroyed the mistletoe with a wave of his wand before gently shoving her out the door. He hurriedly limped past her waddling form, turned on his heel and Disapparated with a loud pop!

Hermione stood alone in the Burrow’s back garden, the sound of laughter from inside the house floating to her ears. She sighed and waited patiently for her husband to realise his error.

Pop!

“Damn it! I’m sorry.”

Severus pulled her to him and once again Disapparated, this time with his labouring wife in tow.

---

A/N: My profound thanks to my beta readers, Subversa and DeeMichelle, and my Brit picker, LettyBird. You three are my golden trio!