Author's Note: and, alas, the final chapter. :)

Chapter 4

"Oh! Hello, Professor," Hermione said brightly, stepping over to the frame he was currently residing in.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Albus replied, twinkling. "Minerva told me you'd be joining us, I just did not realise you would be here so soon."

"I've been here a month," she told him pleasantly, shifting the books in her arms. "Valemon, Crookshanks, and I have been settling in – I imagine she already told you about him."

"Oh yes, I already know all about the boy. Interesting name he has. I can't say I've heard it before." Not in the Wizarding world, in any case, Albus amended to himself. "I am glad to see you as a Hogwarts Professor."

"Thank you!" Her eyes sparkled. "Ever since the bloody Ministry blacklist it's been a bear finding a job."

Albus chuckled. "I was in my other portrait at the time. People were awfully surprised to hear you rip into three members of the Wizengamot in such a way. And the hexes were quite creative."

Hermione shrugged, blushing. "Well, their laws about Muggle-born advancement in the Ministry were unfair - after all we've fought for! Those narrow-minded..." She took a deep breath, calming herself. "It's all worked out, though. I've missed the castle, and I'm so excited to start teaching."

"And how is your gentleman caller taking the news of your move?"

"Pardon?" She flushed, eyes wide.

"Dear girl, you've been humming according to the other portraits – a tad off-key, not that we mind – and that usually means you've got someone special. Indulge an old man's curiosity for gossip, would you?" He sat back in on the painted root of the tree behind him. "Who is he?"

Hermione laughed slightly, hair falling over her face, and she pushed it back. "I assume he's taking it well and I still don't know who he is. I'm trying not to."

Albus gave her an expression of alarm. "You don't? How curious! You seem to like your young man."

"I do," she confessed softly, glancing both ways down the hall. "It feels like I've known him forever, or could spend forever knowing him. He's incredible, and he's been so kind to give Valemon to me... I'll miss him, when he's gone."

"What loves us is never truly gone," he quipped, patting the tree. "And you never know what you have, Miss Granger, until you look to see it. I should let you get back to setting up your office – say hello to your strange-named young man for me, dear."

"Alright. Goodbye, Professor, it's lovely to see you again. Truly." She watched him go, crossing a painting of a tea party and sampling a cup before moving on. Hermione shook her head – he was a strange old man, Professor Dumbledore, keeping up the kindly grandfather act despite everyone knowing he could be a manipulative old goat.

Shaking her head, she kept walking to her office, thinking. Had she really been humming? Alright, so she wasn't the best at music, but Valemon never complained, nor had her admirer when last week she had hummed while he guided her blindly around her quarters in a waltz.

How she adored him, her mystery man. He was cutting and cruel, but never towards her; usually towards whatever poor soul's work he was lampooning to try to out-argue her. He was clever, and funny, and she loved his sure, deft hands. And when they'd danced, she could tell he was strong and lean, and quite tall. He had long hair, she knew, as the strands had brushed her hand as he lifted it to his mouth for his customary goodnight kiss.

Despite longing to kiss him, she didn't feel she could. He was... unapproachable somehow, and he seemed almost sad and a little lost, like Valemon had.

Valemon again. Professor Dumbledore was right, it really was a curious name. She wondered what it meant, what the origins were. Resolving to stop by the library later, Hermione smiled as she thought of her boy sitting on the balcony with Dipsy, reading by the gentle fragrance of his dark pink rose.

"Happy Birthday!" Valemon said as opened the door to allow Harry and Ron entrance. "'Mione made cake."

He had been almost puppyish in his longing for the cake – Hermione had made it herself and had been pleased by his assured deftness as he assisted her in measuring and mixing. Valemon had been pleased, too, when his efforts meant that he got to lick the bowl and she'd gotten a sticky chocolate kiss on the cheek for her own work.

"I love cake," Harry told him seriously. "I had my first cake at eleven, did you know? Hagrid brought it for me."

"It tastes good," Valemon whispered shyly, but Hermione heard him. "I checked."

"Our Hermione makes good cake, my mum was adamant about it," Ron said. "I brought chess and Exploding Snap – which do you want to play first?"

"Chinese checkers."

"Don't have it, Val."

"'Mione does."

"My mom sent me a set," Hermione called from the kitchen and emerged with mugs and kettle. "He loves it and he's really good at it; he beat me in no time."

"Are you, then?" Ron gave him an assessing look. "Alright, kid, get it and show me how to play."

Valemon strode off to his bedroom and Harry watched him go. "You know, he's really changed a lot since you met him."

"Who, Ron? He still has dirt on his nose." The ginger in question frowned, licked his thumb and started rubbing at where he thought the smudge could be.

"No, Valemon. He seems really... familiar, somehow. Doesn't he?"

"Of course he does – he's been living with me for over half a year... oh, Harry, over half a year. Then he'll go away again! What am I going to do without him?" It hit her like a brick and she turned anguished eyes to her best friend.

"Dirt's on the other side, Ron, but I think it just adds a little extra charm." Harry spared his partner a wink, then turned back to Hermione. "It'll be okay, Hermione. Things will work out, you see. How are things with your mystery man?"

"Good. How's the attempt to move you two out of the Burrow going?"

"Mum doesn't want us to leave," Ron said. "Even though Ginny's still at home, she's pregnant again, by the way, totally mental, that one, all happy about it. She thinks this one's Terry Boot's – remember him?"

"I do. And watch your conversation around Valemon," she hissed. "I don't want him picking up bad habits. Not while I have him."

"You won't have him too much longer, Hermione," Harry said worriedly, taking her hand. "Aren't you the least bit curious about where he came from? What if they won't let you visit him?"

Tears threatened; Harry had been trying to get her to investigate ever since they got to Hogwarts.

"Potter, stop making 'Mione cry." They all jumped; they hadn't heard Valemon enter the room, and he stood sneering at Harry, holding his Chinese Checkers in front of himself. "That's mean."

"Wasn't intentional," Harry told him, chucking his knuckles over Hermione's cheek. Valemon glowered at him until he moved away, then gave the game's box to Ron before climbing into Hermione's lap.

"I won't leave you," he told her in a hug so the boys wouldn't hear. "I love my 'Mione."

"I love you too," she said softly, holding him close. He was warm and familiar, and she loved him all the more.

"Chinese Checkers, all set up," Ron announced, as cheerfully oblivious as always. "Come show me how to play."

"Hermione," Harry said quietly.

"Hmm?" She turned to look at him sleepily, Valemon having long since gone to bed and the three adults had indulged in a glass or two of wine.

"Don't you ever wonder?"

She yawned. "I know his name's not a common one; I can't find a single Wizarding reference to it, and the only Muggle reference is an old fairy tale about a king who was cursed into a polar bear."

"Always the fairy tales, isn't it," Ron muttered as he emerged from the washroom, scratching his belly. He flopped down on the couch despite protests, landing his head in Harry's lap. "So what happened with the polar bear king?"

"The princess peeked at him at night while he was sleeping," Hermione said quietly. "After she'd promised not to. And he was taken away by the evil witch. So she had to find him and rescue him."

"That sucks."

"And you're still not curious?" Harry asked, surprised. Almost absently, he stroked Ron's hair like a cat. Crooks, jealous of the attention, jumped onto the arm of couch, demanding Hermione pet him.

Like any intelligent cat owner, Hermione obliged. "Of course I am! It's a clue and a warning, Harry. I've told you before, it's like logic – most wizards haven't got a lick of it. And this logic says that if someone goes so far as drop a child on my door, tell me not to look, and then gives him the name of a fairy-tale character that I should probably listen to him."

"Listen to 'Mione, Harry," Ron mumbled. "She's clever, our Hermione. And put that back in your pocket."

Harry frowned but shoved the Marauder's Map away. Ron and Hermione giggled, then quieted.

"It's nice, being back," she said softly. The boys nodded in agreement. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

"Happy Birthday," Ron added. "Don't forget – plans with Hagrid tomorrow."

"I know. Something dangerous, I'm sure."

They laughed, relaxing in the quiet. Sometime after Ron had fallen asleep, his soft little drunken snores making them giggle, Harry titled his head back and squinted at her owlishly from behind his glasses.

"So you know, then?"

"Oh, Harry...I've always known, in my heart." She squeezed his hand and they sat sprawled on the couch, slowly sinking into slumber.

"I thought you might not come," Hermione said as he tied the silk over her eyes.

"I will always come for you," he replied gently, his hands gentle on her shoulders. "Did you doubt me?"

"I've never doubted you."

His heart quickened at her words; Severus loved her all the more each day, coming to her when her schedule permitted, leaving her letters when he couldn't. Nights she was busy he let himself out into the corridors with her cat, stalking the school as his mind argued with itself over whether or not she loved him.

"Come outside with me," he murmured, and they stepped out into the cool night air. She shivered and he stood behind her, offering her his warmth as he gazed into the stars while she could not. "Term starts soon."

"I know. And soon I will be busier than I have in ages. I will miss you, and Valemon."

He pressed his lips to her curls and was quiet. He would miss her as well. How could he be apart from her for half a year while she exhausted herself with teaching? Her days would belong to precious hours with Valemon, the remaining time to the students, and her nights to grading and lesson-planning. There would be no time for Severus.

"The rose smells wonderful," she said. "It must be magic, to have bloomed so long."

"Indeed."

"What if the curse is broken earlier than a year?"

"Curse?" Oh, clever girl, learning the truth and skipping right to the heart of it.

"Don't be coy – you chose me." Her voice went from firm to wondering, and he held her tighter. "I mean, come on. I'm not stupid. Of course it was you."

"I don't know," he whispered hoarsely. "Of all the things I do know, that is one of the things I do not."

"Then let's find out." Brash, tenacious little lioness – she twisted in his arms, pulling his face to hers before he could stop her.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered at the last moment then kissed him deeply. How, exactly, she'd known it was him didn't matter as heat raced through his body, setting him aflame. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as they both moaned.

Heat and passion – she was everything, and he sobbed words of love to her between fevered kisses, her own voice breathy with devotion. The heady scent of the blood red rose growing in the pot behind them filled the air as they feasted on each other.

When the morning came, they were both entangled in his robes, and he gave a strangled laugh upon realising that the sun was up and he was still a man. Plucking the silk from her eyes, he woke her with kisses, bewitching her mind with lust until she promised to marry him before the start of term - no, that afternoon - and together they would remake the little family she'd become so happy with.

And indeed, flushed and giddy, they Flooed the Burrow, dragging her best friends with them to the Ministry – after all, if he could like them as a child, he supposed he could tolerate them as an adult – and Hermione cut the rose for her token bouquet. It would bloom every year after that as they tended it, growing around their cottage.

The Malfoys were alerted as well, seeing as how it was their book that had started the whole mess, and Hermione found she got on rather well with Astoria.

Minerva was pleased to have her Potions Master back, despite his abrupt (and rather rude) letter of departure, and Slughorn slunk back into retirement with the promise of several crates of crystallised pineapple. A certain Bulgarian may have gone missing, but as he was somewhat the villain of the tale, no one really took notice.

When children were born to the Professors Snape, they called them Rose and Valemon despite Harry's smirks and Ron's quips, and Dipsy was the very best nursemaid they could have asked for.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end. :)

Thanks for reading this little fairy tale-esque story! I hope you enjoyed it

Q&A!

Gosh, that ended quickly!
It's a fairy tale, and based on that sort of model. In fact, my favorite fairy tale ends with the problem resolved, then reads: 'So the sick son married the well sister, and the well son married the sick sister, and they all lived happy and died happy, and never drank out of a dry cappy." Fairy tales resolve the main problem (but not everything), and then they all live happily ever after. :)

Why doesn't Hermione pick up on the word 'dunderhead'?
Ok - I can, frankly, only think of one time Snape says that word. It's become the Snape equivalent of Dumbledore passing out lemon candies left, right, and center, which we also see very very little of in the books. As it's at LEAST five years post-war, she likely hasn't spoken to Snape much, if at all. Therefore, it can be considered that the last time she heard the word was her first year at Hogwarts.

Why doesn't Hermione know it's him? Harry's suspicious!
This is modeled after a fairy tale-type of story. In them, people are either a) so good/clever/lucky it hurts, or b) they're stupid. Hermione is not stupid, but neither is she some shining beacon of goodness. She's intelligent enough to leave well enough alone - she's handled Dark objects and well-read on several subjects. Any research such an intelligent witch would do would spell out very loudly what's going on.

She's trying very hard not to endanger the person cursed. (Again, while she's attracted to Snape, she rarely speaks with him, and a formal style of writing is not unusual in the wizarding world.) She would know enough or research enough about spells and curses to realise that there's only two ways out - true love's kiss (untested), or simply waiting.

Hermione is not stupid - she's very good at keeping a secret, sometimes even from herself. (How long did it take her to admit she liked Ron in canon?) It's not important to her - what is important is the little boy she's been entrusted with. He's sweet, endearing, scared and unloved. She wants a family, and even if this is for a short while, she gets one, so she's throwing herself into. Also, have you ever watched a child? Dear lord, they're exhausting, especially when you're unused to it.

As for Harry - of the three, Harry has seen a child Snape. Harry has seen the mannerisms. Yes, he's 5 years younger than Harry has seen, but there's still enough familiarity.

Did I miss anything?