Five years after the second wizarding war came to a resounding close, the ministry narrowly pushes through legislation to enforce new couplings in the wake of a potentially reduced magical population. Meanwhile disgraced war hero Severus Snape is fa...
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Chapter XI: The Homecoming, Part II – Mother Knows Best
You can cut the ties that bind but not without losing a part of yourself. You can walk away and hide from the people who made you, but you'll always hear them calling your name." – Lisa Unge
~•~
Friday, 28th November, 2003 – Evening
"Severus Tobias Snape, you best not be fornicating on my roof!"
"Fuck me sideways with Athena's strap-on, Mother's portrait has been...awakened...."
Hermione blinked herself out of what was, ostensibly, an ardent haze. The words took several seconds after their vocalisation to register properly, and even once they had, she wasn't quite sure which sentiment to express: amusement, or concern? And, to challenge her detective skills even further, Severus' visage wasn't typically avowed for serving as the greatest of indicators at the best of times – much less, albeit perhaps wisely, the worst . Therefore, she was abandoned to rely on pure, primal reaction alone. The knee-jerk response she found herself leaning towards was the former – his colourful choice of curses notwithstanding. And so, hedging her bets for the sake of propriety, the young woman let out a provisorily, confused chuckle that was quickly – and perhaps, luckily – hijacked by a serendipitous gust of wind that sped it off into the night.
"...Come again?" she pressed, as innocuously as she could manage, her brows furrowing in demonstrative curiosity. For, though she had comprehended his words, they certainly could use a bit of contexture, and then some .
In an endeavour to establish some herself, Hermione employed the small section of her brain that still retained adequate blood flow, attempting to recall what she knew about the man's mother and conjoin it to the voice she'd just heard echoing from below. (Unfortunately for Mrs Granger-Snape, what information she had reserved for the witch that just, arbitrarily, became her mother-in-law, was, over all, not very much, aside from the year of her birth, the unfortunate state of her marriage, and her penchant for Gobstones). Though, perhaps, her faulty powers of recall weren't the consequence of unrefined study, but instead simply the corollary of their most recent, high-flying kiss? After all, the height they were currently residing could readily have collaborated with the oral mechanics in a contumacious effort to make her inconveniently light-headed. Bollocks.
