(Author's Note: Harry Potter and Co. are property of J.K. Rowling. I just get to play with her toys.)

'Ask yourself now
Where would you be without
Days like this
When you finally collide
With the moment you can't forget'
Shinedown, "Amaryllis"

Prologue

The thick, warm air of late July hung over the hills of Somerset, as the sun slowly began to make its descent over the horizon. The deep reds and oranges of the sunset cast shades over the landscape of a dwindling summer, promising the approach of an early autumn. The slowly fading daylight began to cast evening shadows over the towns and villages, and even over a small home, beneath a large oak tree, nestled among a stretch of countryside, far from the hustle and bustle of civilization.

This house looked unremarkable, itself dwarfed beneath the massive branches of the great oak towering above it. It was a small, one-story home of a pale cream color. The shutters, pulled closed in every window save one, were a deep blue, and the fence enclosing the front yard was of a regular picket variety, with a gate hanging slightly ajar at the end of a curved cobblestone walkway. The grass inside the fence was neat and trimmed, contrary to the grass outside it which was wild with midsummer life. There was no mailbox or address, and the only thing that could have given any indication of what or where the house might have been was a neat little sign hanging next to the gate that read "Corvusset" in very sharp, thin writing.

Two, small children, maybe around the ages of six or seven, were sitting inside the fence playing mundanely with balls and blocks. It was a young boy and young girl, varied in appearance, though they were unmistakably siblings. The boy was of a pale complexion with a wild mop of short, unruly brown curls atop his head and deep black eyes, large and full of curiosity. The little girl, however, had a long curtain of straight, sleek black hair, muddy brown eyes, a more olive-toned complexion, and a slight bend in the middle of her nose.

In the window of the house, a woman could be seen bending slightly over a kitchen sink, presumably preparing supper or washing dishes. Her own hair was a long, wild tangle of brown curls, tied messily back in a low ponytail at the base of her neck. Her own brown eyes stared out of the window, observing the hills as they were awash in the colors of a late summer sunset.

Corvusset was a rarely visited place. In fact, there had only ever been two people to have ever visited it (outside the family who lived there) in all the eight years since it had been built, and never had there been more than one visitor at a time. However, this night would be different. As the woman reached up to turn off the faucet in the kitchen sink, she heard two rather loud and distinct 'pop's, drawing her attention back out the window.

Immediately, she set her dish rag down as she heard the front door open and the two children come running in noisily, stopping just inside the threshold to continue staring at the two people who had seemingly just appeared outside the gate. Her footsteps padded lightly against the wooden floor, pausing slightly to pick up a long, thin piece of wood off the kitchen table before proceeding completely into the doorway.

With the last remains of sunlight glowing over her as she stepped fully into the light, it was easy to tell she was a woman of her late twenties or early thirties. Her face was still young-looking, though her eyes and her brow showed where hard times and many experience has created creases and light stress lines. At first, her gaze was narrow and suspicious, but as the gate creaked further open and her visitors drew nearer, her eyes opened wide. In their brown depths was a mixture of surprise, delight, and anxiety. Immediately she pocketed the piece of wood and called to them.

"I have been expecting you both for some time now," she called, a light laugh playing in her voice as the corners of her lips turned up into a warm smile. "I thought I might have to give up waiting on you."

She stood back from the door to allow entrance to two gentlemen of about the same age as herself. One of the men was tall, with long arms and legs, though the most noticeable thing about him would have had to be the mane of fiery red hair that grew from his scalp. He has a speckling of freckles across his nose and cheeks and, upon getting a closer look at the woman, he gave a reluctant smile. The other gentleman was quite a bit shorter than his counterpart, and sporting a very unruly top of black hair. He examined the woman with his striking green eye behind his round spectacles and, finding her in acceptably good health, also smiled, pushing some of his black bang out of his face and briefly revealing a scar that seemed to be shaped like a lightning bolt.

Almost simultaneously, the two men turned their eyes to the two children who had come to stand around their mother's legs. Noticing their change in attention, she cleared her throat.

"Abraham, Emily, go find your father for me and tell him that we have guests," she said, shuffling the two children in the direction of a door on the opposite side of the kitchen. "I believe he is in the potion's cellar." At first the children didn't budge, each holding on to one of the woman's pant legs, but after more encouragement from their mother – "Now, please" – they headed in the direction she had been nudging them.

Standing up straight again, she turned back to the two men in the doorway, ushering them properly into the house and closing the door behind them.

"Harry, Ron, I feel like it's been ages," she said warmly, a bright smile beginning to play on her features once more.

"Hermione, it has been ages!" replied Harry, running his hand through his messy black hair once more as he and Ron allowed Hermione to steer them to the kitchen table.

"Ten years, Hermione! We had thought that—well—you know…" added Ron. The smiles left their faces. "We thought you were dead."

Hermione grimaced as she motioned for them to sit. "Yes, well," she began, her voice becoming slightly shaky, "I imagine that was probably the intention. If it hadn't been for that, I likely might have been."

"That's why we're here," said Harry, sternly, his face becoming quite grave. "We want to know what happened—want to know why you went off the map the way you—"

He trailed off as the children returned from the cellar, another person coming into the room behind them. Immediately, the two men at the table jumped to their feet, eyeing the third man who had entered the room. He was a rather tall man, though nowhere near as tall as Ron, with shoulder-length black hair that had a greasy look about it. He had slightly narrowed black eyes and pale skin that looked to be the result of too much time in cellars much like the one he had just emerged from. He was unrolling the sleeves of his shirt as he stared down his hooked nose at Harry and Ron, where they stood around the kitchen table.

"What?" yelled Harry suddenly. "What is he doing here, Hermione? He should be in Azkaban!" The man gave a derisive snort and moved to wash his hands in the kitchen sink, tapping it with his wand to make warm water flow from the faucet.

"Now, boys, calm down," Hermione interjected, sidling slightly in front of the man as he scrubbed his long fingers. "There's a lot you don't understand about this situation…"

"Like what Snape is doing in your house?!" bit Ron, his ears beginning to turn a violent shade of red.

"I can explain," replied Hermione, trying to sound soothing, "but first you have to sit down – oh, for pity's sake, will you put those things away! I will not have you throwing curses all over my kitchen over something you don't even know the truth about yet!" Her voice was raising octaves as she watched Harry and Ron withdraw their wands from their pockets.

"Hermione, you have a known Death Eater washing his bloody hands in your sink!" Harry looked equal parts livid and confused. "And not only that, but Dumbledore's killer even! Are you bat-shit mental?" Suddenly it seemed as if something different crossed his mind, and it was something that seemed to throw him entirely for a loop. "Hermione, have you been with him these whole ten years? And those children…" he hissed, his eyes turning to the two small children still in the doorway of the cellar, watching apprehensively. "Did you—are they—they can't be yours? With him?!"

It was apparent that Hermione's temper was beginning to rise with her panic as she also withdrew her wand.

"As I said, you don't understand. If you could PLEASE trust me like you have so many times before and let me explain!" She seemed to be having trouble controlling herself as she slowly edged toward the children. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I will ask you to please not point your wands at my children!" Her face flushed with anger as she situated herself in front of them, her free hand pushing them both behind her. "Regardless of what you may think he or I have done, these two children are innocent. Please put your wands down and allow me to explain this!"

There was a long, tension-filled pause where Ron and Harry stared from Snape to Hermione and where Hermione resolutely glared at the two men by the kitchen table. Aside from the sound of the water flowing from the faucet and the nervous sounds of the children behind Hermione, the room was completely quiet. And then the sound of flowing water ceased and Snape turned around, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. The wands in Harry's and Ron's hands immediately switched targets.

Setting the towel aside, Snape fixed both of the younger men with a cold, calculating stare as he picked up his own wand from the kitchen counter before speaking.

"After all this time, you are greeting someone whom you mourned as dead and are finding alive after ten years with suspicion and threats of—whatever it is you might think you are threatening with your wands out like that," he said, drawing out each word in his deep baritone. Regardless of how calm he seemed to be, it was apparent that he was not pleased at all with the situation. "Honestly, you are proving yourselves to be quite the nitwits I assumed you to be during the years I had the misfortune of attempting to teach you. You so mistrust me that you will allow said mistrust to cloud your own judgment and trust for one you once called your best friend."

"How can we be so sure that you haven't placed her under the Imperius curse?" questioned Ron, his wand still pointing resolutely at Snape's hooked nose. The older man let out an exasperated sigh and turned his gaze to Hermione who was still standing with her own wand up, shielding the children. His sharp, black eyes immediately turned back to Harry and Ron.

"Honestly, even if I wanted to, I doubt I could successfully accomplish it," he drawled. "I'm sure you are aware of how strong her will is? Even in my better days, it's highly unlikely I would have been able to cast an Imperius upon her that she could not subsequently break." Both Harry and Ron's arms wavered slightly. After a second longer, Snape's upper lip curled into a familiar sneer. "For that matter, how could I have possibly duped Minerva into believing that she," he motioned to Hermione, "was here of her own free will, if she was not? It was Minerva, after all, who sent you, was it not?"

None of the derision and calculating rage left his voice as he spoke of his former colleague. All four adults in the room exchanged glances. Both Harry and Ron visibly faltered as they mulled over what Snape said. Noticing their slight lax in attention, Hermione took the opportunity to interject what she felt was some sense into the conversation.

"You see? There is no way Professor McGonagall would have allowed me to remain here if she believed I was in danger," piped in Hermione, dropping her wand to her side. "Now can we please just stop with this ridiculousness and sit down and discuss what all has happened in these last ten years. This is truly not how I intended our decade-late reunion to go."

Seemingly satisfied, though begrudgingly so, Harry dropped his wand, followed shortly by Ron. They both kept hard stares on Snape as they returned to their seats, keeping their wands in front of them, almost threateningly. Hermione let out a long breath of relief, also setting her wand on the table and turning to her children.

"Look how late it's gotten," she muttered, turning her children's attention to her as she belt slightly to put her hands on their shoulders in a comforting gesture. "Go brush your teeth, and get ready for bed." The both looked at her unhappily. She turned and looked at Snape. "Can you please put them to bed while I put the tea on and get everything situated?"

He didn't respond to her immediately, his eyes still narrowed at the two gentlemen at his kitchen table. After a few moments of reluctance, he turned and swept out of the kitchen, ushering the two children along with him. They both whined at him as he directed them onward toward the bathroom and then, ultimately, their beds.

While Snape was out of the room, Hermione fetched a kettle and, upon setting it on the stove, tapped it with her wand to set about making tea. Her back was still straight and tense, but there was a definite air of relief about her. Once the tea was set to brewing, she turned around and headed for a glass cabinet on the far side of the kitchen, grabbing something that looked like a stone vial from atop it. She then, turned back to the kitchen table and her two best friends.

"Well, I could have done without that stress this evening," she sighed, setting the vial on the table before taking a seat. "But it is nice seeing you both, all the same."

"Hermione," began Ron, his stern look easing some, and a nervous quirk appearing on his lips, "why didn't you contact us once in these last ten years? When you disappeared that night…we all thought the worst. Kingsley really felt like it was his fault, for sending you off to do something so complicated on your own. We really thought you had been captured, tortured, and…" He trailed off. "We would have all slept better knowing you were alright this whole time."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but—" she replied, patting them both gently on the top of their hands.

"And then we find out you're alright, and alive, and we get here," interrupted Harry, rubbing his arm in agitation, "and you've been here, with him…and you have children—with—with—"

"With me. Yes." All three of them looked up to see Snape re-entering the kitchen. He turned his gaze to Hermione. "They are in bed and asleep, which was no small feat, seeing as they were scared utterly witless." He glared at the other two.

Just as Ron had opened his mouth to respond, the kettle sounded. Hermione spoke up, as if to drown out any possible further argument.

"Severus," she said. Both Harry and Ron were taken aback by her use of his first name. She turned her face to hide her blush at their stares and spoke to Snape once more. "Could you please prepare the tea?"

Snape looked very much like he would like nothing more but to poor the scalding tea all over the two men, but refrained from even speaking and, instead, set about gathering teacups as Hermione turned her gaze back to Harry and Ron. After a few minutes, Snape set a mug of hot liquid in front of each of the people at the table, as well as one in front of the only empty chair for himself. He also placed milk and sugar on the table as Hermione grabbed some tea cakes that she had made from the countertop and placed them on the table.

Severus Snape then took his seat next to Hermione and silence fell over the group as they sat drinking their tea. Harry and Ron looked as if they wanted to say or do some very horrid things to Snape, but were restraining themselves, almost painfully. After a few minutes of tension-filled silence, Hermione set down her teacup and cleared her throat.

"So," she began, her finger idly playing with the handle of her teacup as she looked for the right words, "where to begin…" She glanced around nervously and, after a few seconds, all eyes were on her. She cleared her throat again and pushed her teacup aside, biting her bottom lip lightly as she hunted for the words.

Harry and Ron stared at her expectantly, and Snape was giving her a slightly languid look as he sipped his tea.

"Well, I suppose to get here, we really need to start from the beginning. Let's go back ten years then…"

A/N:Well, it's been an awfully long time since I wrote anything. Honestly, I can't even remember my old account email, username, or anything of the like, so I had to start over. I had been mulling around in the Hermione/Severus stories for a few days and finally found a muse somewhere along the way. Thus this was born. After this chapter, I will, of course, be referring to Severus as Severus and not as Snape. For the prologue, Snape was merely for context and dramatic purposes.

But, um, yes, there we have it. I hope you like it. Also, on a side note, every chapter will be named after a Shinedown song and have snippets of lyrics at the beginning, because I love them and they are part of my muse.