On their final day, they ate a late dinner and strolled down to the beach one last time.

"Let's watch the sunset," she suggested. "It isn't a perfect summer unless you watch the sunset with someone at least once."

He shot an incredulous look in her direction.

"So I'm a charter member of Hopeless Romantics Anonymous." She shrugged and grinned. "Humor me."

Their backs against a log that the winter storms had tossed up high on the beach, they watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon, neither of them talking much.

There were just enough clouds in the sky to provide a perfect canvas for the sun to paint, in shades of orange and pink and gold. She pulled the blanket over both of them as the air turned colder. "Severus, would you mind…" she said hesitantly, then stopped.

"What?"

"Would you mind holding me for a while?" she asked. Even in the light of the setting sun he could see her cheeks turning pink.

When he didn't answer, she leaned against him, her head against his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, and then with a mental shrug allowed his arm to settle across her shoulders. Why not. It was their last night, after all.

They watched as the last sliver of the sun sunk below the sea, then saw the stars come out and the moon rise over the lowlands. Finally, she sighed and sat up. "I guess we'll have to go some time."

In silence, they walked back to her flat. She turned as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

"So this is it."

He tersely nodded.

"Thank you for everything, Severus. It's been wonderful."

He uncomfortably realized that he had absolutely no idea what would be the appropriate thing to say in this situation. Words were not usually a problem, but right now, he was drawing an absolute blank. So he just stood there in silence. This was deucedly awkward. And becoming more so by the second.

Dropping her bag and blanket, she suddenly flung her arms around him in a firm embrace. For a few seconds, they stood there, her arms wrapped around him, his hands holding onto her upper arms almost in reflex.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I really have to leave now."

She looked down, brushing an invisible thread of lint off his coat. "All right. You'd better go then." Suddenly, impulsively,she tilted back her head, put her hands to his cheeks, and touched her lips to his, kissing him quickly, gently, carefully. And then, with a deep breath, stepped back. "Good-bye, Severus. I won't forget you."

He bowed stiffly, his head swimming, and with swift strides started to walk back to the inn. When he looked back, he could still see her standing below the street light, motionless, watching him walk away.


Early the next morning, he packed his belongings with a few firm waves of his wand, and returned his room key at the front desk. The landlord's formerly jovial nature had taken a rather abrupt turn for the worse the last couple of days. It seemed the witches had decided to voice their complaints and had found in him a willing recipient for their gossip.

As Severus left, he was fairly sure of one thing – next year, the rest of the world could take all the holidays they wanted. He would stay put at Hogwarts.

He apparated to outside the main gates and walked up to the entrance. If he had hoped to just quietly slip in, that hope was dashed within seconds.

"Well, well, Severus, I must say, the sea air seems to agree with you." He found himself firmly appraised by the Deputy Headmistress. "I would swear you've gained some weight."

"Hello, Minerva," he said dryly.

"And you've got a bit of color, too. Oh, don't look at me like that. One week down in your dungeon will take care of that." She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

"If you're quite done with your assessment, is there anything else that you wanted?" he asked with asperity.

"All right then, welcome back. I put the new class schedules in your quarters. I didn't feel like spending a day breaking the wards on your office door." She sniffed – it was obvious she was feeling a bit put out by his security measures.

Severus smirked at that. Good. If she thought he would just let anyone wander around his office while he was gone... Some of the ingredients in his private stores were exceedingly rare.

"How many new NEWT students do I have this year?"

"Twenty-two. We are still waiting to hear back from two students, so it could go up to twenty-four. I scheduled them in two groups, if that is satisfactory?"

His eyes narrowed. "If those two students have not yet bothered to make up their minds, they have no place in my class."

"Twenty-two it is, then," Minerva said briskly. She knew from long experience that this was not worth the argument. And those students were two days past the deadline.

He nodded. "I will let you know if I need you to make any changes after I have a chance to look over the schedules."

Taking his leave, he made his way down to his quarters and let himself in. The ward over the door was gone, but he hadn't secured his rooms anywhere near as well as his office. There was, after all, virtually nothing here that would be of interest to anyone.

As he entered, he saw the folder of papers on the small table besides his armchair. They could wait for a while. First, he would unpack, take a shower, maybe have a cup of tea. Take one more hour before his life belonged to Albus Dumbledore and Hogwarts yet again.

With a resigned expression, he opened his bedroom door – and stood still. A sickly-sweet smell permeated the air in the windowless room, the cloying odor of decay assaulting his senses. He drew his wand as he dropped the suitcase and cautiously entered the room. Guardedly, he looked around the perimeter; nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Finally, he spotted it. Something small, black, dead lay in the middle of his bed, something that had obviously been dead for a while. An animal of some sort, about the size of a rat. The decay was so advanced he could not immediately tell what it was. Bones were starting to stick out of the cadaver where the skin had rotted away. The only thing alive were the maggots, crawling like living, squirming grains of rice over the putrefied flesh.

Welcome home.