A very happy Halloween to you all!

This is an important chapter in the story, for both obvious and perhaps less-that-obvious reasons. Enjoy!


Ermengarde Rosier sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat. Leopold's arms were around her in an instant, rocking her and whispering soothing words into her ear. She quieted down almost immediately. Mr. Snape almost never needed to come in when Ermengarde suffered nightmares. Leopold was glad. This was his little sister; she was his responsibility. No one else's.

"Nightmare?" He asked softly. She nodded.

"The same thing you always dream about?"

She shook her head. "No, no, this was different. I can't even remember what I dreamt about."

Leopold's hold stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I don't know," Ermengarde replied. Brother and sister sat in the darkness for a long time, clinging to each other, saying nothing. "Leopold?" she finally said softly, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think Brigita's doing right now?"

"Sleeping, I hope."

"But what do you think she was doing earlier today? At Hogwarts?"

"I bet…I bet she was flying across the lake on a big hippogriff. Just like Mr. Potter did when he was there." Leopold really, really wanted to believe this. But he hadn't received an owl from Brigita in over a year, and she hadn't returned home for summer the holidays after her second year.

"I bet Brigita would have liked that."

"Me too."

"Leopold?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like it here?"

He thought long and hard before answering. "Yes, I do."

"Me too," Ermengarde said with a sigh. "It feels like home."


It all happened very suddenly.

Miss Granger had long since finished Peter Pan and had moved on to The Secret Garden when suddenly Margaret Macnair began shaking, quietly shaking. Then she had begun to breathe very deeply and quickly, but try as she might, she couldn't seem to inhale any air. She didn't know what caused it—one moment she was fine, and now here she was, a tightness in her chest, shaking, breathing, she couldn't breathe, she had to breathe…

And then she started screaming. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming until her throat hurt. High-pitched, blood-curdling screams of terror.

The worst part was, she had no idea why.


Hermione froze and looked up at Snape, who had bolted from the back of the room to Margaret's side in no time at all, pulling her to his chest and rubbing her back in soothing circles as he rocked her. She knew he saw the helplessness in her eyes as she scrambled for something to do.

"Has she ever done this before? What do you normally do?" She asked frantically over the girl's screams.

Snape shook his head. "She's never had an attack this bad before."

Hermione bit her lower lip (a habit that had taken her years to stop) and glanced around her. The children were still there, clearly frightened and yet not frightened at the same time. They were just…there. Should they be watching this? Should they go to bed?

Snape seemed to read her thought process and said in a very even and calm voice, "Bed." Fourteen pairs of little legs scrambled to obey him.

Hermione searched around the room some more, spotting the fire. The floo. "Luna!" She said suddenly. "Severus, should we call Luna over here? Maybe she can help."

"I'll do it." No one could floo-call Luna's flat right now but him. The adults could floo to and from their own homes, but that was it. They couldn't floo anywhere else or even make a floo call. For security reasons. He had set the ward himself.

Untangling Margaret from his torso, promising her that it would only be for a moment and that he would be right back, which only made her wail louder, Snape was on his knees with his head in the fire in a flash.


"Lovegood? Lovegood! I need you to—oh, what, Longbottom? What the—never mind. Throw some clothes on and get over here this instant. Miss Macnair is having a severe panic attack." He pulled his head out of the fire quickly, trying to make himself forget the sight of Longbottom's pasty white arse undulating before him.

Thankful that neither Granger nor Margaret heard his end the conversation, he withdrew his head from the floo and calmly informed them that, "She'll be over shortly," as if he had not just seen anything untoward. Granger nodded.

Severus crossed the room in two long strides and pulled the girl into his lap again. She clung to him tightly and wrapped her arms and legs around his torso as she sobbed and struggled to catch her breath. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, willing her to calm down. "Hush, Maggie," he whispered too low for anyone but her to hear. "I'm right here, I've got you, I'll take care of you, I won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe."

He looked over the girl's shoulder to see Granger standing against the wall next to the fire, silent and still. Her face and body appeared calm but her eyes held nothing but fear. Not fear for herself, Severus was sure, but fear for the child. In the months since they had come to Grimmauld Place, Granger had not seen any of the children break down. Ariadne Carrow had a nightmare once in her presence, but that was quite easily dealt with. Ariadne's nightmares were never that bad, and she almost always could be persuaded to return to sleep within a few minutes. She had not accompanied him to meet with any of his graduates, save that one night with Potter. She had not even stayed the night in her old room, though he continued to keep it for her in case she ever needed it. It was like that night in the brothel all over again—Granger wanting to help but being confronted with pain and terror like that she had never experienced, she was completely immobilized and, frankly, useless to him. She probably had not seen this coming. She had likely heard nothing but impressive reports on the progress of the children psychologically and educationally and socially.

But none of them were here in the evenings or at night, like he was. While the children were much more well-adjusted than they had been upon arrival here, and had far fewer night terrors (for which he grudgingly had Lovegood to thank), they were still badly traumatised and damaged. Granger was out of the loop and unable to cope. He would have to rectify that.

In a flash of emerald flames Lovegood stepped out of the floo with her ever-present smile and vacant blue eyes. Her lips were a bit swollen and her waist-length blond hair was a bit mussed. Longbottom soon followed, furiously patting down his wild hair, his eyes on the floor, his face the colour of a tomato.

"Good evening, Severus," Lovegood said pleasantly, as if he had not caught her in flagrante delicto not five minutes earlier, which allowed her to accomplish the rare feat of making Severus feel uneasy. She knelt down to be level with the screaming, sobbing child in his arms. "Margaret," she said softly, and began to tend to the girl as best she could while she clung to Severus's torso, her face buried in his chest.

Longbottom stood in the sitting room with the look of a man who had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. Not quite meeting Severus's eye, he said, "Right, I'm just…" and turned and hurried to the kitchen. Severus rolled his eyes.

Soon Lovegood encouraged Margaret to begin to breathe in time with her. Inhaling through the nose, exhaling through the mouth, in long, controlled breaths. Inhale, hold, exhale. He could feel her little body struggle to control itself, and he paced his breathing along with Lovegood's in order to soothe the girl and get her to regulate her own breathing. The process seemed similar to the controlled breathing Severus had used back when he first began to practise Occlumency. It cleared the mind of emotions by forcing the body to become calm even when the person was in an agitated state. Tricking the body into feeling relaxed, in a way.

The thought occurred to Severus that Occlumency might be an advisable skill for these children to learn; to separate the darkness of the past with the present, to try to prevent their emotions from getting the best of them and leading to trouble with other students at Hogwarts. Sometimes Occlumency was best learned young, fewer mental obstacles and learned behaviours to overcome. At the same time, these were some of the oldest children he had ever met, and there were real horrors in their past.

He remembered his training with Potter, and of everything Potter had seen and experienced and lived through by that time, and conceded that it may not have only been the boy's idiocy and propensity to wear his heart on his sleeve that had prevented him from even the most elementary skill. Maybe Occlumency was too risky for this group. He would have to think on it.

Margaret was breathing more calmly now, in the even breaths that Lovegood had taught her, and tears were streaming down her cheeks and dampening the front of his shirt. Severus didn't mind one bit. He held her close and hummed a low tune, so low that hopefully Lovegood wouldn't be able to hear. When he looked closely enough, he saw that there were tears in Granger's eyes too. Lovegood took one of the girl's hands whispered phrases like "happens to everyone" and "brave girl."

Letting go gently of the girl's hands and whispering, "I'll be right back," she got up and gestured for Severus to follow her. Reluctantly he released the girl and ordered Granger over to the sofa.

"Just for a moment, Maggie," he whispered. He set the girl in Granger's lap, from which she followed his dark form across the room, never once taking her eyes off him. He made sure to stand where she could see him.

"Has this ever happened to her before?" Lovegood asked.

Severus shook his head, rubbing his palm across his brow. He was not surprised to find it a bit sweaty. This had been intense. "She's had panic attacks before but never anything of this magnitude; typically I can calm her down within a few moments and it's as if it never happened. I've never seen her in such a state. Not even when they were back…there."

Lovegood nodded. "I see."

"What do you think?"

"She's better now than she was when I arrived but not quite right yet. I'm not sure what triggered it and I don't think she does either, sometimes these things just happen." She dropped her voice a bit and leaned in to whisper, "She should sleep this off. Is she too young to take a calming draught?"

Severus shook his head. "Not a low dose. I'll go dilute it in some pumpkin juice for her." Lovegood smiled and nodded, and Severus swept into the kitchen.

Longbottom was sitting at the long table, contemplating his cup of coffee as if it held all of life's answers, and sat up with a start when he saw Severus.

Brushing past him to get to the potions cabinet, which he had charmed to keep locked from everyone but him, he said, "Don't worry Longbottom—I'm not here to comment on your lamentably amateur technique. No one wishes to forget the scene more than I. And unfortunately for you, since I know that you cannot be taught even the most basic of skills, I cannot offer you any suggestions except to hope that Miss Lovegood has no basis for comparison."

He wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly his back was up against the door and Longbottom was standing face-to-face with him, wand drawn and pointed at his neck. He smirked.

"There are so few things in my life that I am proud of," Longbottom said through clenched teeth. "What I have with Luna is one of them, I will not have your thoughtless words make me second-guess one bloody second of it. Do you understand?"

Severus held his hands up in mock surrender, and Longbottom withdrew his wand and returned to his seat at the kitchen table, flushed.

Severus took the vial and poured a small amount into a goblet and mixing in a generous amount of pumpkin juice. He considered that, damaged as he likely was by the war, it had truly turned Longbottom into a man. A man who defended himself and what was important to him. Begrudgingly, Severus could not help but respect him for that.

"You do realise, Longbottom, that had I wanted to defend myself, I would have?"

"I do."

"And that if you ever stick your wand in my face again, I will do more than just disarm you?"

Longbottom nodded.

"So long as we understand each other."


Snape took the girl back onto his lap and gently coaxed her to drink the juice, saying it would make her feel better and help her sleep. Margaret did so slowly, never taking her eyes off of him. A few seconds later, she fell against his chest, softly whimpering as he gently stroked her hair. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out and she slipped into a deep sleep.

"I'll take her upstairs," Luna offered, pulling the limp child from his arms. Luna, in addition to her cutting insight, her borderline-insane beliefs, and inability to be flustered by anything, had the strength of a fully-grown man. "Which room is she in?"

"Third floor, second door to the right," Snape replied, reluctantly letting go of Margaret, clearly struggling to retain a detached air about the situation. He was fooling no one. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do it?"

"No, I think you have unfinished business down here," Luna whispered merrily, so quietly that only Severus could hear. "Don't worry, Neville and I will be going soon and you two can have the house to yourselves."

Snape gave her a murderous glare, but Luna merely smiled and turned toward the stairs, where Hermione was standing.

"This was as much a shock for you as it was for her. I don't think you should sleep alone after this," Luna whispered to her. "I mean, in an empty flat. I know I won't be." Hermione looked at her quizzically as Luna gently made her way up the stairs.


Luna was probably right that she shouldn't sleep in her empty flat after this. She had a hard enough time relaxing enough to fall asleep as it was, and the little girl's blood-curdling screams had awakened some unpleasant memories of the past.

Sometimes, Hermione knew, it was best to sleep in close proximity to a warm body, even if it was in a bed across the hall.

She walked to a dark corner and surreptitiously cast her Patronus. Harry still liked to know if she stayed anywhere out of the ordinary for a night, just to be sure she was safe. "Harry, just so you know, I'm staying at Grimmauld Place tonight if you need anything. Give Ginny my love." The otter spun out of the window and into the darkness. She spared a glance over her shoulder; Snape seemed lost in thought and apparently hadn't noticed. Good. All she needed was him making some sort of snappish remark about her checking in with Harry every five minutes. She normally enjoyed verbally sparring with him, but tonight she was too exhausted.

At that point, Luna made her way down the stairs. "She's sleeping," she said cheerfully. "She'll be fine, but you might give her a bit of extra attention tomorrow," she said, turning to Snape. He nodded.

"Neville?" Luna called. Neville slowly came out of the kitchen, not looking at Snape. Taking Luna's proffered hand, they tossed in some floo powder and disappeared for the night. Snape approached the fire and waved his wand over it.

"What's that for?" Hermione asked.

"Closing it. Security," he replied.

"Why?"

"I secure all methods of entry and exit every night," Snape replied. "You've merely never been here this late before."

Hermione nodded. "No, I suppose I haven't." She hesitated, then spoke. "Speaking of which, after everything that happened tonight, I don't feel quite right leaving, so I think…I think I'll stay in my room upstairs tonight."

She wasn't asking permission. Snape nodded. "As you wish."

"I mean," Hermione kept talking. Why do I always keep talking? "Just…sometimes it feels wrong to be alone. Do you know what I mean?"

Snape nodded. "I do." Giving her a thoughtful look, he asked, "Will you go to sleep now?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't normally do this, but I think I might need a drink to settle my mind. Do you keep anything here?"

He nodded. "Between you and me, I find I need a drink most nights too. I keep a bottle of Ogden's in the desk in my bedroom. Unfortunately it is all I can offer you, but I would be willing to share it."

"I'd like that."


"Can I ask you about Margaret?" Granger asked. They were seated on the sofa nearest the fireplace, staring into the flames, each holding a half-empty glass of firewhisky.

It was a dangerous business, Severus knew, drinking with another person. Firewhisky was as effective as Veritaserum with him. His defences dropped and his walls crumbled. The last time he'd drunk in the company of another was back in the Headmaster's office towar the end of the war; he'd told Phineas Nigellus Black the story of him and Lily, something he unfortunately lived to regret. The damn portrait brought it up every time they saw each other, and now he was trapped in this house with the smirking Slytherin's other portrait. Severus had had to resort to casting a silencing charm on it and banish the frame to the cellar.

He would have to be careful.

"Severus?"

Granger's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Margaret?" she asked again.

Severus nodded. "Why she had the attack?" Granger nodded. Severus took a longer sip of his drink and tapped his wand to refill it before he began.

"The Death Eaters were as evil and malicious and disgusting a group of people who ever walked this Earth and I will be ashamed that I ever counted myself among their number for the rest of my life.

"However, despite this, some of them were wonderful parents. You may remember that Narcissa Malfoy betrayed the Dark Lord at the very last moment in order to protect her son. She was not the only one. There were, surprisingly, many good parents in that group.

"Unfortunately, Walden Macnair and his wife were not among them. They had wanted a son and tried for many years before having their daughter, and he was so ashamed of her that he gave her a Muggle name. That is one of the biggest insults a Death Eater can bestow on a child, by the way. She was abused, and then her parents were killed and she was taken to the Ministry as a very young child. I trust you get the picture without me having to elaborate?"

Granger shook her head. "What a terrible blow," she said softly. "Harry grew up in a neglectful and, I think, abusive household after the loss of his parents, but he at least was able to escape to something better. And he clung, and still clings, to the knowledge that his parents loved him very much. To not even have that…" She trailed off.

"You seem…affected," Severus said finally.

Granger nodded. "Pathetic, isn't it?" She had intended to leave it at that, but Snape gave her a look that silently urged her to elaborate, and she continued to speak. "I saw a lot in the war. I watched friends die, I watched enemies fall, I lived in complete isolation and utter chaos at the same time. And then it all ended so suddenly and so completely, I was able to just box it away and not deal with it. But seeing these children, what they go through every day, really see it…it's hard. It brings back all those things that I saw that I promised myself I would forget.

"I suppose it's like an injury," she mused, swirling the amber liquid in the tumbler. "When you receive a serious injury, your body will shut down the pain to enable you to survive, to get to a point of safety. Only later, when you have the presence of mind to think about it again, your body allows you to feel the pain and forces you to deal with it. In the war, all that pain and loss…I was able to just forget about it and push on. I needed to; I don't think I would have made it through otherwise without cracking up completely. And I guess after the war, to survive and keep my head together, I had to put away the pain and just push through. I hadn't really stopped to think about it, but I suppose I've been pushing through pain for six years now without really realising that I still feel it. The pain."

She turned and looked at him, her brown eyes slightly glazed due to the fire and the late hour and the alcohol. "I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"Yes, I do seem to have a particular talent for making people feel pain, " Severus said evenly.

"Not you, the circumstances," Granger said. "I mean it when I said I have you to thank. There's so much I haven't dealt with, and now maybe it's time that I did. Or at least acknowledge to myself that I haven't."

Severus was surprised at Granger's openness. She was normally reserved about her fears and emotions, at least according to Potter. He supposed the alcohol had loosened her lips. Those lips that glistened in the light of the fire as she spoke. His too. This was why he never drank with anyone else. His mannerisms, his gestures, his expressions, his words could all become unguarded. Too unguarded.

"Do you experience any…lingering effects?" Severus asked, hoping she would say no but knowing she would say yes.

Granger nodded. "I'm sure you've noticed that Harry and I are a bit…jumpy when it comes to sudden noises. It used to be much worse; we used to dive to the ground whenever Crookshanks would knock a pen onto the floor. Now, it's more of a reaction, keeping our wits about us. My wand is always at the ready, even now I could have it out in a flash if I thought it was necessary. Um…I don't believe I've slept completely through the night once in six years without the aid of a potion, and always with a light on, or at least a fire. I feel the need to know where Harry and Ron are at all times, and they me. If I haven't heard from them for a couple of days I start to worry. Even though I know that it's probably nothing, I still want to be sure."

She took another swallow of her drink and kept talking. "The Weasleys…well, they're not the people they used to be. It's like they've been hollowed out. Losing Fred was just…it broke them. Ron and Molly and George, especially. So I feel like I've lost my other family, in a way. Harry was a mess. He drank a lot in that first year after the war, trying to forget. Ginny helped him stop and now he doesn't touch the stuff. I suspect he might have tried some drugs too, but I can't be sure. If he did, it was only briefly and he's long since stopped. And me...I've never had many friends in my life, but I find that I've not made a single friend since the war ended. Haven't wanted to. Except for you."

She had called him her friend. He didn't correct her.

Granger had been staring into the fire whilst delivering her monologue, but now she turned to Severus and tilted her head a bit as she looked at him. "I think it's a great thing that you're doing here. With the children," she segued.

Severus sighed. "I don't know if it's a great thing. I try. But I feel that I have failed every day these past five years."

"How can you say that?"

"How can I not say that? My charges have ended up in brothels and prison and on the street. That's hardly a rousing tale of success."

"You give them a chance not to have that life," Granger said. "But you cannot control their actions and decisions once they are out of your care."

"I'm fighting a losing battle. Me against the entire Wizarding World. Sadly, a position with which I am quite familiar, which means I very much understand how bleak the prospects are for success."

"You don't really believe that," Granger said softly.

"I very much do, Granger," he said.

"Hermione. And I refuse to believe that you believe that. If you did, why even bother?"

He paused before responding. The alcohol was working its magic on him. The crackling fire and the lateness of the hour also helped. He could feel his shields slipping off of him, and found he did not care. "Because I did not feel I had the option not to."

"This is more than an obligation. You have no obligation to them. You know that and I know that."

"Granger, if you ever orphan a child, and I sincerely hope that you never do, you will understand what I mean."

"You think I don't know what it is to take a life? To think about the people—the family and children—I have forever robbed?" Granger sat up straight and looked him pointedly in the eye. "Severus Snape, I may not have quite the experience you do, but do not think that I emerged from the war with clean hands."

For a long time neither said anything. They drank their whisky and looked into the fire. Severus summoned the bottle and topped them both up, and they drank more.

"Why are you an auditor?" Severus asked finally.

"I wanted to move into MLE and this was the only position available." She shrugged. "It's a first job, not a last job. A foot in the door, if you will."

"I cannot imagine that you, of all people, need a foot in the door at the Ministry of fucking Magic, what with your fame and your record and your relationship with Shacklebolt," Severus said.

"Bureaucracy works in mysterious ways," Granger said with a false smile.

"You're wasting your talents there."

"No I'm not. Once I get to a high enough position I will be able to work on real policy matters, like changing the pro-pureblood laws that existed even before the war. From there I can change attitudes and prevent another conflict from ever happening again. After Grindelwald fell everyone sighed with relief, and then we got Voldemort—"

"Don't say his name!"

"And who knows who will come after him? I need to do this. If I can change attitudes, I can stop it. I have to."

"If you think you will change anything via the Ministry, then I have sorely misjudged your intelligence all these years." He sat up and leaned toward her for emphasis, his eyes meeting hers. "You were not born to be a bureaucrat, Hermione. I have many disappointments about our so-called Brave New World, but among the greatest of them is watching you squander yourself. You spending your career there is a waste of your talent and your intelligence."

He looked away and took a generous drink of his whisky. He hadn't meant to use her given name. He knew she'd noticed. Probably also noticed that he had paid her a sincere compliment.

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he'd realised. Maybe he was betraying too much that he would have preferred to keep hidden. And yet he did not summon a sober-up potion. He stayed there, with her, on the sofa. He was close enough that could touch her thigh without having to stretch himself. If he wanted to.

Granger looked pensive and tense and did not look at him. "I am fine with my choices," she said finally.

"Are you?"

"Yes. Every single one."

"No one is happy with every choice," Severus retorted. "To claim that you are is to lie to me and to lie to yourself."

"If you're asking me to sit here, drink in hand, in the dark, late at night, to wallow in regret about my decisions, the answer is no. I don't brood."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Then what are you asking me to do?"

"I am asking you to be honest."

"I am being honest. Am I happy with every choice I've ever made? Of course not. Would I do some things differently if I could? Absolutely. But I am at peace with myself for what I have done. I do not believe in sitting around, regretting what has happened. I can't change everything I've ever done. Regret is something I try to avoid. It is unproductive and downright depressing."

Another silence passed.

"What would you have me do with my blessed intellect instead?" Granger finally asked.

"Anything but work for that corrupt body," Severus said instantly, staring into the fire. The firewhisky was firmly in his system now, and the native Northern accent he spent his life suppressing was beginning to peek through. "You are one of the most talented pupils to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts—even I had to admit that. To see you as a low-level paper-pushing bureaucrat is possibly one of the greatest disappointments to which I awoke.

"You would do well in teaching—you can command the attention and focus of a group of special-needs children, so a typical Hogwarts classroom full of mouth-breathing dunderheads would be no problem for you. You would also do adequately in research and development. Your essays for my class may have been pedantic and overly-reliant on the words of a textbook and completely lacking any original thought, but there are many industries in which such a 'skill' would be an asset.

"Really, though, Granger," he said, turning to her. "I honestly would be satisfied if you chose any path so long as it required you to use that troublesome, overly-active, know-it-all brain of yours. Because right now, I seriously doubt that you even can in that job."

He had never spoken so honestly, so complimentary, to anyone, at least not in recent memory, without throwing in some sort of sarcastic remark or insult to punctuate the comments. Severus blamed the way the fire made her lips shine and her eyes sparkle, blamed the late hour that made her voice soft and seductive, blamed the whisky for tearing down his walls.

Yet he did not regret a word he had said to her.

Granger sat there, still, processing what he had said to her. "It was easy," she finally said. "It was a job I in which I could do well and rise up. A job where I could count on easy praise for my work. I needed praise. After all the challenges I had faced, I didn't believe I could face another challenge in my life." She met his eye and gave him a bit of a wry smile. "I suppose I had never really thought of it before."

She drained the rest of her glass and leaned closer to him. "But then again, Severus, you always were one to make me question the world and myself, and really use my overly-active, know-it-all brain. Weren't you?"

Severus drained the rest of his glass and set it down on the side table with a little more force than was probably necessary. "I suppose I was," he said softly. He leaned in toward her a little bit more.

Granger smiled. "It can be a dangerous business, instigating someone to think," she whispered.

"I will endeavor to watch my step, then." He absently brushed away an errant curl that had fallen in her face. "What do you want, Hermione? If you could be anything, and you can be anything, without concern for the challenge or the practicality of it, what would you choose to be?"

Granger sighed and spoke in a voice that betrayed pain and honesty. "I want to be…just to be…" she trailed off. She seemed a bit lost for words, as if she had not contemplated the end of the sentence when she began it. After a moment she smiled a bit and said. "That. Just that. Just to be."

Just to be. He understood that sentiment. He imagined all the possibilities that could fill the blank she had left in her statement. Just to be normal, just to be content, just to be anonymous in crowds, just to be calm. Just to be free from always fighting endless uphill battles only to walk away empty-handed. Just to be able to successfully care for these children without watching them walk away and slip through the cracks. Just to be the man these children both needed and deserved. Just to be able to feel something other than pain or regret or disappointment. Just to be his own man. Just to be at peace. Just to be free. Just to be anyone but Severus Snape.

What he wouldn't give just to be.

"What about you, Severus?" Granger said. "What would you choose to be?"

His answer surprised even him.

"This. I may not have sought any of this, but I am exactly where I know I should be and where I want to be."

Whether he did it because of the glow of the fire or the lateness of the hour or the effect of the alcohol or the bare honesty that had opened up between them, he could not say. He leaned in further and touched her cheek, drew his thumb across her jaw line, and softly pressed his lips to hers.

Granger didn't pull away. She responded in kind. It was not a drunken kiss, or a passionate kiss, or an urgent kiss. It was an honest kiss.

"Hermione," Severus said softly as they pulled apart, but not too far apart. "Are you drunk?"

She shook her head. "No."

He knew she knew herself well enough to give an honest answer.

"Good."

He leaned in again to press his lips against hers. Hermione's lips, the ones that had glistened in the dying light of the fire.

"Hermione…" he whispered. Tonight, and after tonight, she would no longer be Granger. Whatever happened next between them, she was, and always would be, Hermione.

"Yes?"

It had been so, so long since he had been in this situation with a woman, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to mess this up the way he tended to mess everything else up in his life. They had formed a partnership and-dare he say it-friendship. How would this change that? Severus opened his mouth to speak again, but the words caught in his throat. What if she said no? Could he handle the rejection? Worse, what if she said yes? What impact would that have? What impact would this, whatever this was, have on them?

Seeming to sense his nervousness, and visibly trying to hid her own, she stood up and extended her hand to him. Taking it, he followed her as she led him quietly up the stairs, thankful to have handed off the decision to someone else.

"Do they all sleep through the night?"

"Not all of them, not every night."

She stopped. "Should I…?"

He shook his head. "No. I will go to them if they need me. They don't come to me, even when it's just us here."

"Are they afraid to?"

"No, they just know that I will be there when they need me."

"And you always are, aren't you?"

He nodded.

She gave him a smile. "You're a good man, Severus Snape."

He shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, but she captured him in another kiss before he had the chance.

"Hermione, I…" I don't have much experience with relationships. I don't have much experience, full stop. It's been a very, very long time for me. I don't want you to be disappointed.

"It's been a long time for me," she whispered. "Maybe we can…go slow and see what happens?"

He relaxed at her confession. "I would like that very much."

He cast a Patronus for each floor and followed her into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly and leaving it unlocked in case he was called out in the middle of the night.

It did not occur to him for many hours that the niggling voice in his mind had not appeared once during their entire conversation.


Hermione spent the night in her bedroom in Grimmauld Place for the first time in months, and, taking her friend's advice, did not spend it alone. Luna was right; it was exactly what she needed.

She awoke early the next morning, before the sunrise, to find Severus lying beside her, his arm draped lazily around her waist, watching her. She smiled at him sleepily and leaned in to his touch. He pulled her close to his chest and placed a kiss on her temple.

"So…now what?"


I don't know about you, but I find Severus in "father mode" to be incredibly sexy.

Severus's thoughts about Hermione's career choices are spoken in the Voice Of The Author. I was immensely disappointed that this her canon future; Hermione working for the Ministry in any capacity other than Minister (which I would even argue she wouldn't be well-suited for) is a complete waste of her intellect.

Coming up: The morning after, and then some.