The Minister and The Headmaster

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 August 2nd, 1997

The following morning was a rare one where Florence woke up before her husband.

She slowly stirred in bed and turned on her side to look at him, her heart beating faster as she stared at the face of the man she loved with all her soul.

Severus' expression, usually so tense and serious, was relaxed and serene in his sleep. She scooted closer, feeling his arms close around her, and touched his sleep-tousled black hair, enjoying the warmth of his body, his scent, his presence.

Severus was the strongest person she knew; whenever she stopped to think of all he'd gone through, physically and emotionally, she was taken aback by all of it – the hardships of his childhood, the lack of basic necessities, growing up with an abusive father; the fact that he had to commit patricide to see his life and Eileen's change for the better.

Then all that he went through as a young adult, enlisting in her father's ranks, having to make potions and poisons to hurt and kill people – being tortured.

And yet Severus not only survived all that, but was an amazing father, husband and man.

His breathing changed, giving him away; Florence chuckled, touching her nose to his, whispering: "Severus, I know you're awake."

He slowly smiled and opened his eyes, pulling her closer, "How could I not wake up with you thinking so loud, wife?" he tried to sound annoyed.

She whispered: "Menta spiritus," before kissing him and saying over his lips: "I love you."

"I got that from all that saccharine mental-babble."

Florence rolled her eyes at his feigned grumpiness.

"However," he continued, looking intently at her, "I must disagree with you."

"Those are my thoughts and feelings, Severus," she replied, keeping her voice sweet, kissing his lips softly, "I don't care if you disagree."

"Whatever, wife. The point is I'm not the strongest person in this room," he said, caressing her face, "You are much stronger than I."

"How so?" she frowned, "You were beaten and starved by your own father. You had to kill the man to get rid of him!"

"And you were tortured by yours under the excuse of training. Also, I don't know if you got the memo, love, but the whole point of this war we're in is to kill your father."

She laughed, kissing him again, pushing him onto his back and lying on top of him.

"Got your speech already," he asked, fisting a hand on her hair at the nape of her neck and tugging, using her future title: "Minister Florence Snape?"

"No. Headmaster Severus Snape," she replied with a soft moan, loving his hand in her hair.

His other hand went down her curves, grabbing one of her thighs and making her straddle his hips.

"Today the world will know you're mine," he spoke in her ear, kissing down the column of her neck, touching her breasts, "That you've always been mine."

"Yes," she breathed, feeling her knickers and bra vanish with a wave of his hand, her sensitive nether lips rubbing against his equally bare hard cock.

"My wife, my love," he lowered both hands to her hips and positioned her above him, slowly impaling her, "Mine to fuck."

"Yes," she moaned, rolling her hips, biting her lip as she began riding him at a languid pace, loving the feeling of having him so deep inside of her.

"Fucking look at you, princess," he pulled her down for a kiss, her nipples rubbing against his chest at every roll of her hips, "So bloody beautiful," he gripped her arsecheeks, making her move even more slowly on him.

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