Authors Note: I apologise for this being quite so short, but I have something ready to post within the next 2 days. Jm.


Red.

That was the colour of the toenails digging into his chair; irrelevant was the fact that the toe would flex occasionally on, no doubt, a particular fascinating paragraph; irrelevant was the fact that the owner of the foot really was invading his quarters- Severus considered himself a fairly tolerant man, and he could even cope with the fact that the occupied chair was his favourite.

What was relevant, however, was that sitting in it, was one Hermione Granger.

He didn’t want her there, her frizzy hair and presence filling the small room. She had a scent about her; cloying, invading.

He wanted nothing more than to send her on her way, to tell her how little she meant to him, that she was naught more than a thorn, and the ring on her finger was cheaper than his feelings.

He strode across the room- his robes discarded on the sofa, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show faintly inky wrists, pale with ink like forgotten tattoos. His dark mark a separate entity altogether on the pale forearm.

He smirked to himself, knowing that even in the vast library there was no book entitled “ How to cope with being forced to marry your Professor- a step by step guide”. For once she was quiet, save for a faint shuffling of her shoes.
He dragged himself back to the stack of third year essays that needed marking, and dipping his quill into the ink he began the soothing process of tearing them apart.

After five long minutes, a plaintive voice could be heard ,“I didn’t ask for this you know.”
He longed to whirl around in his chair, using his carefully cultivated sneer, and to tell her that he was simply overjoyed to be shackled to a female who was nothing more than a child.

“Miss Granger, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but being forced into marriage with someone who has been nothing but a constant source of annoyance for over seven years is not my idea of fun. It doesn’t even come close.
You cling to books as though they are going to save you- knowing the insides of textbooks does not, however, make you clever. Knowledge and knowing things are not the same thing. If you had been half as clever as everyone claims, then you would have turned in your wand and headed for Muggle life without so much as a second thought.”

There was silence as his words slowly sank in, and a dull flush could be seen around her neck and ears. She was struggling with her respect of authority, and to control her temper around this man she was now married to.
“It’s Mrs Snape… now,” as she twirled the plain band on her finger.

He stood up- his linen robes creased and wrinkled from the chair, his fingers inky and his gaze as black as his hair.
“It does not take a master of Occulmens to know that you are no wife to me”

The door closed behind him with a gentle ‘swoosh’.