An owl showed up at breakfast the next day, dropping a letter on the newspaper he was reading after Hermione opened the window to let it in. Well, dropping a letter, which hit the newspaper, and then fell onto the table at his place, narrowly missing his cup of coffee.

They'd already had breakfast, but they were still sitting at the kitchen table. Neither seemed in a hurry to get on with their day, as if they knew they had nothing but time. For the moment. Soon that would change, of course.

Both had commented while fixing breakfast that while they'd slept, it hadn't been the most restful sleep they'd ever gotten. Hermione mentioned an adjustment and nerves about what was to come. He had to agree with her, and could only hope that as they got more comfortable here in 1926, and with one another, that rest would follow. He was used to little sleep. It went with his role. She, on the other hand, was likely not. And hadn't gotten good sleep for the days prior to their trip back here.

They'd both need it, but she would especially. He knew this, likely she did as well. Childrearing was not an easy task on a good day. Add in the fact that their child could potentially murder someone in less than a score of years. Well, nine months of good rest would definitely do them both, but especially her, well. He wasn't fool enough to believe the love Albus expected to be involved in this equation was going to start with him.

He paused in reading the morning paper, Albus no doubt was responsible for it - as well as the owl - being here. He doubted very likely the paper continued to get delivered to an empty house. Hermione said she'd wait to read it until he was finished. He was glad she wanted to read it, they'd both need to to get used to the current day's events and topics. She was quietly studying something, it appeared. He didn't ask what because, to this point, she'd been quiet and he appreciated that in the morning.

She'd told him last night that he could tell her to shut up. As he'd said then, he'd never say it like that, but he realized he would have to get used to company. So, he'd fought the urge to take the newspaper elsewhere and chosen to remain seated in here to see if he could do it.

"He's given us an owl," he said, gesturing to the more white than normal barn owl.

She looked up, seemingly only now noticing the owl was still at the table. He supposed she assumed he'd drop the letter, or whatever he was bringing, and leave. She offered it a residual piece of bacon that had been a bit overcooked from her plate.

"Well, that should prove helpful if we are to be separated, I expect."

"Indeed. I also have an appointment at Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, good. Coming that soon must be indicative that Albus was convincing and that Headmaster Dippet is interested, yes?"

"I should imagine so. At least his sense of humour is not that drastically different from his future self."

"Oh?" Her attention was still on the owl, which was fine. Likely she'd be the one using her most, so they should get acquainted and bond.

"Her name is Verdandi."

Now her focus was on him. He recognized that look in her eye. She was thinking, likely scouring her mind for how she knew the name.

"Mm, keeping with our Scandinavian heritage, and the fact that this is now our present. He is clever, isn't he?"

"At times," Severus said. "So, that gives us today to do as we please. I know that I mentioned going room by room, but if I have an interview so soon, I think that we should ensure we have appropriate attire for anything that might come of that. So, might I suggest shopping? Clothing I guess is all we really need at this point. The kitchen and pantry were more than sufficiently stocked. You can go through the house tomorrow in my absence, make notes as I know that you are very capable of doing so thoroughly, and we can go from there. Is there anything else you have in mind for today?"

"No. I noticed that there are some clothes already in our closet. I'm sure there's enough for me to get by if you'd rather take today to prepare for your interview."

"I don't need to prepare for it," he said, realizing too late that it sounded entirely more conceited than he intended. It was the truth, though. "I get the impression this house may have belonged to someone no longer with us rather suddenly," he said. "It would seem Albus was the secret keeper. So, I don't know if he just couldn't stomach going through the house or what." He really had no idea when it came to Albus, certainly not 1926 Albus.

"Oh," she said, and he could tell from the way her mouth tightened for just a moment that she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

His lips thinned a bit as he regarded her. Dinner the night before hadn't been … unpleasant. They'd cooked together, enjoying the fruits of their labour with some wine she'd found. After dinner, and emptying the bottle of wine between them, they'd cleaned up together. Afterward they'd walked around the house for a bit longer before taking themselves to bed.

Separately.

Her half-kneazle came onto the scene after hours of doing his own acclimating to his new home to join his mistress for sleeping. The cat found his way into his room and bed at some point during the night, which Severus had to admit hadn't been completely unwelcome, lying in a completely foreign bed located in a completely foreign time with a wife he truly didn't know that well in the room next to his who he imagined would remain one in name only for quite some time. Well, the offered warmth and company was accepted.

When she'd asked him about the sleeping arrangements on their way to dinner he wasn't sure what she'd wanted his answer to be. Had she been assuming, despite his assuring Albus that he would not initiate anything between them while she was sixteen, that he would have expectations anyway?

She hadn't seemed to think that, though. She had genuinely seemed … he wasn't sure if it was relieved or pleased … that he was taking the bedroom adjoining hers.

Fixing breakfast this morning had also not been unpleasant. She'd followed his directions or instructions both times, and seemed as if she wanted to learn how to do these things. A few weeks ago, hell a few days ago, he likely would have given some scathing insult about her mother teaching her these things. He realized, though, she'd come to Hogwarts at the age of twelve (essentially). When would she have learned?

She had let him read his newspaper, appearing as if she just wanted to be in the same room as him.

And now she was willing to put off clothes shopping, wear clothes left in their closet by someone Grindelwald was likely responsible for taking from this world.

He set the newspaper he'd been reading prior to the owl's arrival down, regarding her. She seemed oblivious to his attention being on her now. Either that, or she didn't care. He'd put money on his wife being so focused on their new owl as to not notice.

His wife.

He had a wife.

This witch was that wife.

She was talking softly to the owl.

Their owl.

He had an owl.

He had an owl with someone.

How utterly bizarre.

He never imagined she'd say yes to this scheme of Albus'. What sixteen year old would agree to going back to 1926? Leaving everyone and everything behind except him? Albus' joking of his personality and temperament aside, Severus knew he was not a catch.

She was running a finger along its rather beautiful plumage. She had apparently already gained its favour. His eyes darted from the owl to the witch.

His witch.

She was an attractive witch.

A week ago, he would never have looked at or thought of her in such a capacity. Students were students. They were just bodies in chairs in his classroom that he tried to ensure didn't die. Some were wizards and some were witches, but that was about the only thing that he allowed to register with him. He didn't allow himself to see them as people. Individuals.

This one, though.

Attractive. Intelligent. Capable.

And so very young.

Sixteen and seventy years from her friends or parents, from anything and everything familiar. He wasn't fool or conceited enough to believe she'd find him familiar. She'd given up a potentially bright future (assuming Voldemort was defeated) to come to this time where, no matter her intelligence or capabilities, she would be seen as less than. No matter her ability to make a decision for them, such as wanting an elf, he would be looked to for decision making.

He wasn't stupid enough to believe she'd made the decision unaware of these things. One of the reasons he'd agreed to this scheme with her involved in it, was precisely that. He was confident she would have read about history enough to at least have a handle on things.

His immediate reaction when Albus had mentioned this project, and her as his choice in witches, was to say no. Albus had indicated at the time it was something he was thinking about, nothing more. Severus hadn't cared. There was no way. At the time, she had not turned sixteen yet. Albus had asked him for the name of another witch who could do this. Well, Severus had not been able to name one. Intelligence was going to be a key element to all of this. They couldn't have a dunderhead in charge of Tom's day to day upbringing.

He cleared his throat. She apparently hadn't found his silence out of place. Or offensive. That was a relief. He was not accustomed to being chatty.

"Those things can certainly be transfigured to fit you for today, while we do our shopping or around the house if you like. I would prefer that it not appear my wife is wearing transfigured clothing, as if I cannot afford better for you."

"Mm," she said, almost sounding distracted as she offered another small piece of crisp bacon, this one dipped in a bit of leftover egg yolk, to their owl. "Erik Prins is that particular, is he?"

She was being a bit cheeky, but he could tell there was genuine curiosity behind the question. Certainly, nothing she knew about him would lead her to the conclusion he might care about how anyone was presented to the world.

He'd never, until this moment and her mentioning that there were clothes already available to her, realized that he cared. He knew how it worked, though.

"He will be," he said.

He absolutely would never have it said, or even thought, that he could not provide for his wife. He would wear used robes before he'd allow her to. Her image, and eventually that of Tom, was a reflection of him, probably more than what he himself presented to people. If people thought he didn't care or provide for her, his family, that would not do for what they came here to do.

She gave a soft laugh.

"I suppose jeans, T-shirts, and lacy thong knickers are out for sixty years or so."

He could not deny he had no problem envisioning her in just the outfit described. He'd seen her in muggle attire a few times, so picturing her out of robes was not difficult to do. The knickers, though, he would never even have deigned to think on what type of undergarment she, or any witch if he were being honest, wore. His few encounters involving witches weren't the kind where focusing on their undergarments was required.

He was fairly certain on Saturday night when he fetched clothes for her, and took away the soiled ones, that neither pair of knickers was what she just mentioned. He hadn't really paid attention, he just did her the favour of giving her clean clothes and getting rid of the dirty ones. He wouldn't want to wear something again he'd worn for three days. At that particular moment she was still his student, intended wife or not. So, thinking about her knickers would have been entirely inappropriate.

Now she was his wife. How odd to think he had … rights now he didn't days ago where she was concerned. A lesser man.

Well, he wasn't a lesser man. He'd done some abhorrent things, but sullying a minor was not among them.

And that, he was sure, was one of the primary reasons that he was the male choice of this scheme of Albus'. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if Hermione hadn't been the one the scheme was tailored around rather than the other way around. It never even occurred to him that might be the case until this moment. How incredibly … shortsighted of him. Albus knew he could trust Severus not to act inappropriately. He likely wouldn't know that for certain about a few other wizards who could have been in contention for coming here.

"Do you actually wear thong knickers?"

He asked the question more as a joke, but as he'd just thought. She was his wife. She had brought the subject of undergarments up! He was allowed to be curious. 

Wasn't he?

"That's a very personal question, and I think one best put off for a few months at least, yeah?"

"Why?"

"Well, I'd offer to show you…"

He cleared his throat. Cheeky witch. Was she serious? She couldn't possibly mean that. Could she? And why was that thought not completely unappealing?

"So long as you are dressed in appropriate knickers when we leave the house."

"Aye aye, Captain," she said with a salute.

"You are hilarious, Marie Rose."

"Oh, that's going to be how it is then?" This was asked with a laugh. "I always knew I was in trouble when my mum called out Hermione Jean."

He chuckled. Yes, he was aware of that type of thing. "I didn't have to worry about that very often. I knew that I was in trouble if my parents paid any kind of attention to me. They didn't need to say my name."

She stood then, and he watched discreetly as she brought her breakfast dishes, and then his, to the counter. She fussed at the sink area for a moment, getting everything just so apparently. She walked up behind him then, and he had to do everything in his power not to turn around or ask her what she thought she was doing.

She slid her hands to his shoulders and then after a moment, apparently waiting for him to scold or stop her, she slid them around his shoulders loosely when he did neither. He was so shocked by the gesture, that he didn't have the wherewithal to scold her even if he'd wanted to. People just didn't … touch him. He didn't invite it, and no one challenged him on that. It suited him very well.

"Something tells me lack of attention will not be an issue from now on, Erik Magnus. Not in my presence at least. I will go get ready, and will be able to meet you in the foyer in about twenty minutes. I promise that I will be dressed in appropriate knickers. Top and bottom."

She drew away then after bussing his cheek with her lips ever so lightly and quickly. She grazed her finger along Verdandi's head and then left the room leaving him with no time to react, to either the kiss or her leaving.

"Insufferable witch," he called out just for good measure. She wasn't that fast where she wouldn't have heard him.

What in the hell was he supposed to do with any of that?

Touching him? Kissing his cheek? Talking about her undergarments? Suggesting she'd show them to him eventually?

He sighed softly as he finished folding the newspaper back to the way it had been received. He would have to see where to put it. There had to be a barrel or something for burning material.

"Come, Verdandi, let's find a suitable room for you to reside in. Madam Prins and I will endeavour to find something for you to claim as a perch and get you food while we are out today as well."

The food would be gotten easily enough for certain. The perch might be a different story. If she was to be theirs, he would want her comfortable. He'd never had an owl before, but enough students certainly had over the years for him to have a basic idea of what an owl's needs might be. He briefly wondered how Hermione's cat would do with an owl in the house, but realized he'd prowled Hogwarts for almost three school years, so was likely used to all manner of creatures; winged and otherwise.

He made his way in the direction of the staff quarters, which was accessible by a door off the kitchen pantry, to find a room there that would be adequate for their new family member. At least for today while they were gone.

Staff quarters.

He scoffed at that. They were probably larger and more opulent than his house growing up had been as a whole. In theory, they could close up the rest of the house and live here since there was access to the kitchen. He wouldn't ask Hermione to do that, of course, and part of their … cover, for lack of a better word, was to endeavour to be social creatures. Wealthy ones. It would look suspect if they took up residence in the servants quarters.

She hadn't traveled back seventy years with him to live in staff quarters. As if he wanted to give her the impression that he thought of her as nothing more than that.

Owls. Wives. Soon to be sons.

How had his life even come to be this?

And that wasn't even thinking about the fact that he highly doubted Narcissa Malfoy or Walburga Black would ever have engaged Lucius or Orion in a conversation about their preferred type of knickers. Nevermind someone like Alecto Carrow. He didn't even want to think on that, shuddering internally at the very idea!

And now he was left with months, potentially more given the type of man he was. He wasn't going to walk up to her on the day of her seventeenth birthday expecting her to consummate their marriage.

That paved way to a thought.

When would she turn seventeen?

He should know that.

Not for consummation purposes, but as a husband, he should know his wife's birthday. And gift her with something.

There was something he'd never thought of before.

Merlin, why hadn't Albus warned him?

As if he'd ever had to buy a witch a gift before.

As if he'd bought anyone a gift before, for that matter.

Not willingly.

All that to realize that he would be left likely with several months to wonder what his wife's preferred choice in knickers was.

And just what did she mean by lack of attention not being an issue? Was she planning on being a shrew of a woman until the day he died two days into this? A wife who planned on pestering him about every little thing?

He sighed, finding a suitable spot for an owl to go here and there from as was required of Verdandi. He returned to the kitchens, finding some additional scraps from their breakfast that the owl could feast on while they were gone. That was what she'd been doing at the sink area, no doubt, putting their uneaten food together for just this purpose.

She was a caring person. Genuinely so, it didn't appear to be an act. He was most familiar with that type of caring. Insincere. Wanting something out of it. That was not in her nature. He would do well to remember that, he supposed.

He returned to the kitchen, assured Verdandi was settled for the moment, and started their morning dishes to washing. He had little to get ready for, other than to get some money.

How much would new clothes for her cost anyway? He truly had no idea. He imagined it wouldn't be cheap, though, given she needed a complete wardrobe, right down to the aforementioned top and bottom knickers. They should also stop at Gringotts so that he could establish an account there. Even if he didn't get the job at Hogwarts, they were here in Britain to stay. At least until January.

He realized that he would be wise not to deposit everything he'd brought with him at once. He also thought that it would be prudent for her to set up a second vault with her wand and the emergency alias Albus had set them up with. The second vault could wait until they were a bit more settled. Opening an account with the hope he got a job locally, wanting his wife to have access to funds in the event she went shopping without him. That sounded plausible to him.

He went to his room then, collecting what he thought was a more than sufficient amount of money for clothes shopping for the two of them. One good thing about his attire, while modern they didn't stand out as being not of this time. He did glance at the man's robes in the closet and ensured he would pass for today.

She was in the foyer waiting for him when he came down the stairs. She looked … nice. She wore a hat, and looked as though she spent time on her hair as well as applied a bit of makeup that was subtle and flattering to her colouring and features. He could only recall one time seeing her … made up, and that was the Yule Ball last year. He recalled she'd looked … more than adequately nice.

Had she done it for him?

There was a thought he wasn't sure how to feel about, as no one had ever done such a thing for him or with him in mind in his life. He couldn't ask, that would be both rude and rather conceited seeming, so he shelved it for a later time.

"I assume you got everything transfigured as needed?" he asked.

"Yes. This outer robe," she said, gesturing to the item in question.

It was really more of a cloak than a robe. It looked nice on her, though. Flattering in the way it hugged her curves.

"Is so nice. I hated doing anything to it. I don't know who these people were, and don't want to think about what happened to them that we're able to live here. She, it seems, was quite stylish."

He'd noticed that, too, when he'd walked through their shared closet. While he had robes and suitable enough clothes to wear today. She, on the other hand, had left quite literally with the clothes on her back. When he'd gone to Hogwarts to retrieve her familiar, he'd spoken covertly with Minerva as to whether there was anything in her wardrobe … salvageable for their excursion. Minerva hadn't believed so. He took the witch at her word, and he honestly couldn't say he'd ever seen Hermione wear anything that would be suitable for 1926.

"May I make a suggestion?" he asked, regarding her.

"You may."

"Leave the hat."

"But it's March and…"

"We will find you another hat if you so desire."

"I thought it looked nice," she said, looking confused and, if he didn't know better, hurt.

"It's not that it doesn't look nice. It's that it…" he paused, trying to think of the right words without looking like a romantic fool. He found that he rather liked her hair and, evidently, did not like it covered up. It seemed to be a pretty accurate way to gauge her mood as well. "Tames your hair."

"I want it to!"

"Why?" The question was posed as he removed the hat in question.

"Well, I thought it would be less memorable. So, people wouldn't remember that you had to buy me an entire wardrobe of clothing."

"Our trunks did not arrive as they were supposed to? You want a new wardrobe as part of getting married? Your husband wishes to spoil you? Take your pick."

"Honestly, Severus," she said, reaching for her hat.

"It's Erik."

"Fine, Erik. Can I have the hat? Why do you even care!"

"Are you going to be this insolent when we are in public?" he asked.

"Insolent? Erik, please. I just want my hat."

"I will give you your hat if you insist upon covering your hair. However, you have to remember when we are, Marie."

"I remember!"

"In your actions as well as your words."

"Really? You're going to remove my hat from my person in public?"

"I might."

She huffed.

"Is it likely we are going to meet Lucius Malfoy's grandfather today? No, but is the potential there? Yes. As well as Arthur Weasley's and so on. Are you going to huff at me like a child in front of them?"

"Well we aren't in public. We're in our home. I just want my hat! Why are you being ridiculous? It's a hat, Erik. It's March. Last I checked it's permissible to cover one's ears, and it was in the closet with this cloak so it has to be sufficient!"

He held the hat up, tapped it with his wand and instead of the brown hat it was now green. He reached then, and slid it over her head gently.

"Green, Erik? Really?" She huffed in indignation.

He shrugged. "It looks better," he said simply.

She turned then, regarding herself in the mirror that was over a table in the foyer. She adjusted her hair a bit under the hat, scowling at the mirror reflection of him. He could see in her eyes that she realized it did improve the appearance of her outfit. Even if it was just an outer cloak and hat.

"Thank you," she said finally. "It does look nicer than the black cloak with a brown hat. If that's what you wanted to do, why not just say so?"

"I'd actually prefer no hat, but if you insist," he shrugged.

"I'll make you a deal," she said, turning to face him after one last look in the mirror.

His lips thinned as he regarded her. "This ought to be good. Go ahead, Marie Rose."

"I will try my best not to be insolent if you do your best not to be an arse, Erik Magnus."

His lips quirked up. He knew it. He couldn't stop it, and that seemed to make her angrier.

"And I swear to all that is holy, if you dare call me a child again, I will find somewhere else to live and a way to support myself that is not reliant on you. If my age is a problem for you then you should have thought about that before dragging my arse seventy years into the past. Do you think any sixteen year old daydreams about marrying someone nearly twenty years older than her? I have not said one word about that, though, have I." She stepped closer to him then and poked his chest with her index finger. "And I didn't before you took the deaging potion, so don't bring that into this. Until this moment you've been … decent, but if this is any reflection on how you plan on behaving going forward then please count me out."

"And you'd what? Leave?"

"I don't know!"

He saw something in her eyes then.

Determination.

She would leave, he realized.

She would rather live alone in this strange time than put up with him behaving like a git or a selfish prick.

She had her notebook of things that could earn her money, after all. She could, in fact, probably survive just fine. With or without the notebook, truthfully. She was smart enough.

He shouldn't care.

Really, life would be simpler without her. He'd survived this long having no one, he knew he could do it just fine without her interference.

Mothers died in childbirth all of the time.

And yet, what in the hell did he know about raising a child the right way?

Love?

Proper guidance?

Taking the steps to avoid Thomas Riddle from turning into what he did?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

His mother had been all right he supposed, but she was no prize. Somehow he didn't think treating Tom Riddle the way he'd been treated would affect the change they were trying for.

He regarded this witch in front of him, daring to poke him in the chest and make demands upon him, as if she had any say in any of this. This was 1926, she had very few rights; abilities or not.

No one had dared speak to him in such a manner in years. They were too scared to.

She'd agreed to this plan on less than an hour's notice. She'd asked no real questions, truthfully. The errand she went on was to aid them, the three of them, not just herself. She wanted to ensure the three of them, because Tom would be here sooner than either of them liked to think about, would survive.

She'd given up a family that loved her, friends who cared for, and were relying on, her. Granted, she probably agreed to this for Harry Potter, so she wasn't really giving him up. She'd turned her back on what was certain to be a bright future, assuming the war ended in the way he (everyone not on the Dark Lord's side) hoped. She, as far as he could tell, hadn't even thought on her future, or what she'd be giving up by coming here.

He had none of those things. His future before they'd come here was not going to be a long or happy one. He'd contented himself with that back in 1980 when he'd agreed to Albus' terms and conditions.

She, presuming they won the war, had a long life ahead of her. He had no doubt it would be a successful one. She'd given that up, though, to come here with him to raise a child that she, or he, may decide they had to end the life of despite their best efforts.

And do what with her life filled with so much potential until yesterday?

A life as a librarian or school teacher? Not that being his wife was any great prize either.

"What a waste," he murmured.

"Talk to Albus then! This was not my idea. It was his, and yours!"

"You mistook my statement, it was not directed at you," he said.

The way he saw it, he had two options here.

He could endeavour to not be a bastard, or he could continue to alienate the only person who was, when it got down to it, on his side. She would be on his side, too, if he didn't fuck that up. She was loyal and defended those who fell under her umbrella of friendship and protection staunchly. He was all that was left. Until Tom came anyway.

Someone on his side was a very foreign concept, something he'd never had before. Not even Albus was truly on Severus Snape's side. Severus was but a tool, a tool he had no doubt Albus had grown fond of as the years passed. He knew the old man would go on with another plan if something happened to Severus.

She had chosen to be on his side. No, she hadn't specifically said that, but she had not had to. That was the crux of agreeing to do this. She was on his side. She had agreed to fidelity, but would she keep her word on that alone here for months if he was an arse? He liked to think that she would, but knew deep down he would not blame her if she did not.

There was a third option, he supposed.

One he truly hadn't thought of until this very moment.

Was that pathetic?

He could endeavour not to be a bastard and actually make an attempt at courting his wife. Of course he had no idea on how to go about doing that. He'd tried somewhat with the hat. Obviously, not very well, since she'd gotten angry with him. He liked her hair down, flowing freely, almost an entity unto itself.

She'd taken it as him insulting or controlling her, so clearly he'd failed in that attempt. He did not feel … comfortable saying that he liked it in any particular way, though. Shy no doubt, even he could admit that, despite his age, he was not proficient in such activities. Fear of ridicule was there, too. He had no … complimentary experiences to look back on and use as an example when it came to dealings with women.

As she just pointed out, he was nearly two decades older than her and looked nothing like Weasley. An argument could be made for Krum perhaps, but Severus could acknowledge other than dark hair and eyes, the similarities in appearance ended there.

She would no doubt take her cue from him. At least for now. If he behaved like an emotionless arse, she would presumably do the same.

He didn't want that!

He wasn't sure he knew that until this very moment. He wanted better than that. He'd come, she'd agreed. They were married.

Now that he had that available to him.

He wanted it.

All of it.

That love Albus preached about.

They were likely going to be alone here for months, assuming he started teaching in September. He did not want those months to be miserable. He preferred, instead, that they were the beginning of what Albus wanted out of them.

A loving couple.

He rather liked the idea of passing those months pleasantly with, dare he think it, his wife who was his friend first.

He huffed softly, taking a deep breath.

His decision made.

He would attempt to woo her. To love her.

To not be an arse.

"I like your hair down, that is all I was trying to say. It was evidently my inept way of trying to pay you a compliment. I am unsure how it got turned into your interpretation that I was trying to tell you what to do," he said softly with a bow of his head. "Shall we go then?"

She seemed to accept his roundabout apology. He knew he hadn't actually said he was apologizing, but he wasn't going to for trying to say he preferred her without the hat! That was beyond ridiculous. He was allowed an opinion!

The day did improve. At least he thought it did. He supposed she might have a vastly different opinion of things. She seemed no longer upset at any rate.

He ensured that she would be outfitted in everything a witch could need, quite literally from head to toe. He'd left her in the capable hands of the shopkeeper, told them he'd return, and ensured they saw he did truly have a coin purse full of galleons to spend. He just did not want to see her trying on garment after garment. If he did his things while she was doing hers then they'd be done sooner was his reasoning.

It had absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to see her clad in different outfits, some of them for sleeping and such, that he'd prefer not to see right now.

He returned to the shop at the allotted time, his own purchases and errands done. He was still made to wait, however. Finally she was ready, dressed in what she'd arrived in, including the cloak and hat.

"That was actually somewhat fun," she whispered low enough he was sure no one else heard it. He scoffed in response.

That was all he needed! Her developing the shopping gene so many other women seemed to have been born with.

He returned the whisper with his own. "Do I need to worry about you bleeding our vault dry before I'm employed to add to it?"

"No, I think not, I've just never had the privilege of a total overhaul right down to my stockings. You know?"

"How would I?"

"Well, have you?"

He peered at her. Was she serious? Had she not been paying attention to how he outfitted himself the past four plus years she'd seen him? It was evidently a sincere question.

"No," he drawled simply.

"Hmm, well, when I'm independently wealthy, I will deign to treat you to such an experience then."

"Surely there are better things that you could spend your wealth on."

"Yes, well," she said with a shrug, dropping her hand to his forearm once the clerk had finished with her hefty purchases. "Thank you," she said, moving onto her toes to kiss his cheek.

Touching. Kissing. These were things he was going to have to get adjusted to receiving.

And there was a thought. Would she expect them in return? Forget expecting them. Would she want them?

"It is far less than you deserve," he said, in part because he knew this close the clerk was listening. In part, too, he spoke the truth. A suitable wardrobe was a drop in the bucket compared to what most would say she deserved for agreeing to this.

"Now what would you like to do?" he asked once they were out on the street outside the shop.

"You took care of everything you needed to?"

"I did. Clothes, Gringotts, lab supplies. We will return to Gringotts another day so that you can set up an account with your wand under your other pseudonym."

She nodded slightly, as they'd already discussed why he wished her to do that. There may come a time when they'd have to flee, for a variety of reasons if things went pear shaped with Tom Riddle. She'd agreed an account, versus a vault, as a contingency was a wise course of action. Only monies would be necessary for it. They didn't need two vaults, neither currently had enough for one really. Severus planned on storing things that had no business being at their home, though. They would be able to access the account anywhere, so long as they had her wand. Or for him, his identification.

"All that in a day?"

"It's easy when I know what I'm looking for and the apothecary knows I'm not to be trifled with. I told them I'd be back if I found a job locally to outfit an entire lab. They seemed pleased at the prospect of a repeat customer."

"I can imagine, it probably helped, I'm sure, that you also gave that stare."

"What stare?" he asked.

"The one you're so good at, that tells people exactly what you just said. ‘Don't trifle with me.'"

"I have no such look."

She scoffed. "Honestly, Erik. You do. I hope to see much less of it going forward, but you do."

He knew that he did, of course. He hoped not to have to use it much going forward, and not just with her, truthfully. If he could go the rest of his life without people being frightened of him, or thinking he was evil, he would consider this scheme a success. He couldn't say the image wasn't fun to a degree, but it was also tiresome.

"As to my original question," he prompted so they could do something other than stand outside the store.

"Can we just walk around some? And then go home before we do the food shopping?"

"That can be managed."

Both had agreed there wasn't an abundance of food shopping to do with as well as the elves had stocked them up.

It was almost like a different world walking around Diagon Alley at this time. Familiar yet not. She likely felt the same way even though she had fewer years to compare. It was strange, like walking in the shadows of what he knew. The same and, yet, very different.

She seemed to enjoy peeking into the various stores that she had no interest in entering, just wanting to see their windows. He found it somewhat intriguing, and a little endearing. She truly had a mind that wanted to know … everything. He'd never met anyone like that before. He could admit it wasn't awful. At least she didn't drag him into every store for this or that.

Eventually, they made their way back home where they went to their respective rooms to put their purchases away. He found her in her room, laying on her bed.

"Are you unwell?" he asked.

He asked it partly in jest, but time travel to this extreme could take its toll he wagered. He felt fine, but that didn't mean that she did.

"No, just thinking," she said.

"About?"

Did he want to know? Did he just open up a can of worms? He hoped not. It seemed the thing to ask, though. To show concern for her. It was a friendly and, certainly, a husbandly thing to do. Wasn't it?

"Will I have much reason to wear muggle clothes? Like pants, I mean?"

"I guess that depends on what you plan on doing, but for the time being, I would think not. We can see about getting you a few things so that you can if you wish to without feeling uncomfortable. I realize it's what you would be accustomed to outside of Hogwarts, but outside of our home I think we will be primarily magical. And propriety at this time would dictate skirts and dresses."

"Thank you," she said.

"Albus also included a map with his information this morning, showing me more specifically where we are, so apparating into town should not be an issue. It appears it's quite a distance otherwise. Evidently there is a muggle motor car in the garage of the muggle house that is functional, but I admit I hadn't driven a muggle car in the time we came from since probably the eighties. I'm not sure I'd know how to drive one in this era."

"Is it magical? The town, I mean. I agree with you on the car. We can look at it some other time. I wouldn't have a clue how to drive it, but I'm sure we can figure it out together. I'm in no hurry, as long as you teach me to apparate."

"I will, yes, I said I would. I will teach you all that I can, so that you are self-sufficient come fall. As to the town, I get the impression that there is a small magical community as part of a larger muggle town so we can do our food shopping there. As far as a library, or any other suitable for you job opportunities, we'll review the map and go from there."

"Okay," she said.

"I have something else for you," he said.

She sat up then, feet barely touching the floor due to the height of the bed. He kind of chuckled at that. He knew she was quite a bit shorter than he was, but something like this really drew his attention to it. "Oh, Erik, you already spent too much…"

"This is a necessary item, toward our story, but I did pick it out," he said, approaching her bed. 

Should he feel odd about doing so? He wasn't sure. They'd sat in this room yesterday going through her notebook and such. She hadn't closed the door in an attempt to keep him out. They shared a closet, which he noticed was full of new items. A few of the items already there still hung in it, he imagined they were things she liked and wanted to see how they looked on her.

He took her left hand in both of his and slid a ring over her ring finger.

"We already did the official part, so I have nothing to say but it seems as if I should. So I vow to try my best not be an arse," he whispered.

She laughed lightly, sliding her hand out of his and peering at the ring as she touched it with the index and middle fingers of her other hand. He'd actually left Diagon Alley and found a muggle jeweler for this errand. He did not want it remembered by anyone in Diagon Alley that he had purchased these items just today.

It wasn't crazily extravagant, but it was certainly nothing he thought she'd be ashamed of wearing or telling anyone he picked out. He'd seen this set, and thought they fit with the story of their Scandinavian roots. The engagement ring could be worn by itself, obviously, as it would normally be given ahead of the wedding. Set above the knotted-looking gold band was an emerald cut diamond that he'd liked over the other offerings. The wedding band was the same knotted gold as the engagement ring with some small diamonds resting along the knots. They weren't huge diamonds on the wedding band but were more than just chips.

The salesman had called the design a celtic knot, which Severus was familiar with, just having never seen it as part of a ring. Then he'd never paid much attention to the jewelry others wore. He'd spent probably longer than he should have picking them out. He kept coming back to this set, though, believing she deserved all that came with marriage, and that included the ring that should have come first. The knots had no start or finish, which was the point. It was to represent eternity. He had no doubt she knew that so didn't bother offering up an explanation. For now, he could promise her an eternity of loyalty. He hoped, if she was receptive, that he could add the friendship, love, and faith in time with this initial promise.

"They are lovely, Severus, thank you," she said. He tapped both rings with his wand so that they would adjust to the correct size.

"You are welcome. I did not feel right, you not having that symbol. Bringing one from the future could have caused problems."

"I understand. Did you get one?"

"I did," he said, holding out his palm to show her the male counterpart to hers.

He wasn't certain if she would care if he wore one, but it seemed the right thing to do when he'd been looking at various rings that he should have one, too. Similar and yet different enough. The band was thicker. There were no diamonds either. Obviously he just had the band, no engagement ring. She closed her eyes, wandlessly summoning it from his hand with some obvious effort and held it in her fingers before sliding it over his finger. He would work with her on her wandless magic, too.

"And I vow to try not to be insolent."

She stood then, still holding his hand in hers and went to her tiptoes. "They are lovely. I didn't expect…"

"Yes, well, you deserve. What groom wouldn't splurge on such a thing for his bride?"

"Thank you," she said.

And there she went bussing his cheek with her lips again. Only this time she didn't draw away completely and found his lips with hers. She drew away so quickly he might have thought he imagined it, but his lips were warm from the contact.

And she was blushing deeply, which prevented him from asking or commenting on it. He didn't want to make her more uncomfortable.

"To town then? So we can see what is available locally to us without having to go to Diagon Alley? I will also look at the map or ask Albus for ideas of another town you may be able to apparate to that's not near us or so public as Diagon Alley. That will be most important for you come the fall if I can't get home. People cannot see you not with child."

"Yes," she said.

It was actually a nice sized town and, like the map Albus sent that morning depicted, it had a small magical population but was primarily muggle. They spent quite a bit of time there just walking, taking in what was near them. Was there the possibility of a job for Hermione? He wasn't sure. There was a library and a school. They'd both agreed she could likely pass in this era as a school nurse, with her familiarity of basic healing and care for common illnesses.

"Dinner?"

"Out?" she asked, seeming surprised and hopeful.

"I was thinking so. Somewhere in muggle London maybe? Get a feel for things. We won't do it if we remain home secluded all of the time."

"Sure. Yes, you're right. And you do have an interview tomorrow, so if anyone said anything it wouldn't be unusual we were seen together."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Thank you," she said.

***

June 1996

Melbourne, Florida

Harold and Phyllis Smythe watched with thousands of others as the Space Shuttle Columbia took off as projected.

"I'm so glad we took the time to come here for this," Harold said.

It was something they'd talked about for years, but for whatever reason hadn't done it. It was everything he'd expected it to be since news of rockets, astronauts, and the idea of space travel had first been talked about. He and Phyllis hadn't been married yet, but she hadn't found his interest strange.

And then things like moon landings, in addition to satellites being launched, happened and he was like a child again, wanting more.

They had both hoped to do this type of a trip with a child one day. That wasn't to be, but it was no less enjoyable a way to spend the time before opening their newly purchased practice in Canada's Winnipeg.

Like most around them, they'd been out here before sunrise to get a good spot to observe the launch.

Phyllis grabbed onto his wrist, tightening it a bit. She was, pleasingly, as excited to see this as he was.

Eventually, they could no longer see the Columbia with their eyes. Only then did her grip on his wrist loosen.

"That was amazing," she said, echoing his thoughts exactly.

Not too long after that, they and the others gathered to watch the launch made their way back to their cars, hotels, or houses.

"Thank you for indulging me," he said, wrapping his arms around her before they, too, left the area. He was in no hurry. He knew it would take them hours to get out of the area.

Next was Orlando for a few days. Neither was a big amusement park person, but they wanted to go since they were here. Then they'd make their way up to St. Augustine before finally heading to their final destination in Canada and their new dental practice.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com