Close To You And More

by HiddlesOmNomNom

(ADOPTED from Molvanian Queen-In-Exile) Still grieving over the deaths of the people she knew as her parents, Hermione finds herself having to take up residence with her real father – Snape. How will they survive her 7th year, let alone the holidays? Slash and Mpreg warnings, to name a couple.

10. Chapter 10

A/N - Picking up the pace from here. *grin* I hope you'll reward me for this one. Nudge nudge, wink wink...

Chapter 10 – I've Had My Moments

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our glorified Head Girl."

Hermione laughed at the snide tone. "Practicing are we, Malfoy?"

Emerging from the shadow, the blond boy in question grinned and shrugged. "Thought I'd try it on. See how the other possible path for the year might've gone."

"Oh? And how's that going for you?"

"Well, I'm not getting my end in this way, so…" He laughed as she lunged at him with an indignant squeal. "Ah, Granger, you're so easy to stir up."

"You're infuriating sometimes, Malfoy," she sniffed haughtily, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Damn," he responded, feigning hurt, "I was going for all the time."

"Naturally."

They fell into step beside one another as they walked the corridor to their last lecture of the week.

"So, I never asked what was up with the Brown girl…"

Hermione frowned. "It's sort of confidential at the moment."

Draco paused, somewhat surprised. "That serious is it?" He frowned. "I thought it'd be something like nerves, or homesickness, or…I don't know…something less than pivotal."

"Well, life's full of surprises," the Head Girl responded with a shrug, "and Lavender's a pretty resilient sort. It'll all work out. And while she's working through it all, I plan on being there with her for it."

"I wouldn't expect any less of you," he spoke seriously, "even if you were a Slytherin."

Pondering his words for a moment, she flashed a genuine smile. "Well I knew that. Slytherins aren't completely heartless. They just guard their emotions a bit more."

"Just a bit?"

"Alright," she conceded, "A lot."

"That's better." Draco said matter-of-factly, before chastely kissing her cheek.

-?-

Severus surveyed the Seventh Year students assembled before him. He was well aware that this was their very last lecture before the other students returned on Sunday, and realised that, as a result, the majority of them wouldn't be paying any attention. His daughter sat in the very front row of the Potions classroom, Draco Malfoy directly beside her on her right. To her left sat Potter and on his other side was Gregory Goyle. Normally, he wouldn't blink twice at Goyle's choice of seat, or partner for that matter, but the boys were openly flirting and –dear Merlin!- playing footsie beneath the bench. For a moment he was stunned; Potter and Goyle. Potter and Goyle! The very essence of Gryffindor, and Slytherin's best academic. Together.

Still, he mused, if he and Remus were still drawn to one another, and if his daughter and Draco Malfoy could possibly hit it off –much as the thought displeased him – then the thought of Gregory Goyle and Harry Potter finding each other suitable as romantic interests wasn't really quite as surprising as he'd found it.

He cleared his head of the thoughts and moved on. Behind these four students was a selection of Ravenclaw and Slytherin students, four of each, then, behind them, two Gryffindor and one Hufflepuff. This was his Advanced Potions class. Today he would be explaining the basic outline of the term, as well as outlining the need for extra caution this year, as the potions and the ingredients involved would be far more volatile than those they had come across in previous years. House rivalries, should they still exist, were to be left at the door; one misfired hex or 'accidentally' thrown ingredient could spell death, or worse, for the lot of them.

Halfway through his talk, Severus glanced around the room only to discover, as he'd suspected, that all the students –even his academically minded daughter- were distracted with one thing or another. Glowering at them, he threw his hands into the air with exasperation.

"This is absurd!" He cried, pacing down the centre of the room, his robes swirling menacingly, "You are about to enter your final year of compulsory Wizarding schooling. What happens this year will determine the course of the rest of your lives." He spun and walked back to the front of the room, shooting a pointed glance towards the front row. "There is no use in forming romantic entanglements if you are not going to dedicate yourself to your schoolwork; letting yourself down now will only let your lovers down when you are unemployed and unable to support one another."

Now, he knew he was being somewhat melodramatic, but it frustrated him to no end to watch teenagers make the same mistake year in and year out. Yes, he himself had been involved with Lupin at that stage in his life, but he had still made the effort in all of his classes to excel. To watch as his own daughter –who had, up until now, proven to be unwavering in her pursuit of academia – fell prey to her hormones was the last straw.

"You are no longer clueless eleven year olds," he finished, his voice now not much more than a whisper, "do not waste what little time you have left here." Giving the assembled students one last look over, he gestured towards the door. "Get out of my sight, and do not return until you are serious about your studies and this class."

With a rapid scraping of chairs and rustling of parchment, the majority fled the room. "Granger," he halted his daughter midway through her escape, "A word." He glared at the three students surrounding her, "Did I request your combined presence? No?" The boys shook their heads and he pointed his index finger towards the door. "Then leave. She will return to you in one piece."

With apologetic glances towards the detainee, Draco, Harry and Greg filed out of the room.

Once they were gone, Severus erected locking and silencing spells and folded his arms across his chest. His disapproval was palpable. Hermione hung her head shamefully, feeling, for the first time in months, like an errant first year under his gaze, especially as he'd called her by her former surname.

"I expect blatant disregard from many of my students, Miss Lupin-Snape, but never from you."

Hermione supposed that his use of her amended surname was a positive thing. She felt her lower lip tremble; disappointing her parents had never been something she coped well with. "Dad, I-"

"In this classroom I am your Professor!"

She swallowed, still not raising her eyes to look at him. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, I-"

"Silence!" He swept past her and sat behind his desk, further highlighting his role as her teacher in this scenario. "You will not speak until I give you explicit permission. Am I making myself clear?"

Hermione nodded.

"Look at me when I address you."

With every ounce of Gryffindor courage she possessed, the Head Girl raised her chin so that her gaze now met her Professor's. Though the thought of disappointing a teacher still hurt her, the sting was far less than the thought of disappointing her Dad.

Severus looked into her eyes searchingly, but not employing his powers of Legilimency. It wouldn't be ethical to do so under any circumstance – not without her permission, at any rate. In a tone calmer than before, he asked, "You understand why I requested you stay behind?"

She nodded.

"Good." He waited a beat, merely for theatrical purposes, before continuing. "You, out of all the students, have the greatest potential in this class. It is disturbing to see you already setting foot on a path less than desirable." When she remained silent, though the spark in her eye told of words ready to be unleashed, he added, "Your…attachment… to Mister Malfoy should be the least of your concerns in this classroom as in all others. Do not make the mistake of putting...amorous thoughts above your studies; I assure you, you will regret it." He waited another moment, then, secretly proud of her ability to hold her tongue, asked, "What have you to say on the matter?"

Taking a steadying breath, Hermione responded, maintaining eye-contact with her most fearsome teacher. "As my teacher, you have absolutely no right to discuss personal matters with me unless I have broached the subject myself, Sir. However, I do understand that it is out of concern for my position in this class that you have mentioned it at all. Nevertheless, I am hurt that you think that I am putting my studies behind any attachment I might have formed to another student. I have worked hard for six solid years, never putting anything –bar the fate of the world- ahead of my school work. I assure you, Professor, that I am not stupid enough to throw that all away now."

"I'm not certain I appreciate your tone, Miss Lupin-Snape, but your sentiment is duly noted. However," he sneered, driving his point home, "perhaps you should refrain from batting your lashes and darting your feet towards the object of your affections during your classes, so that your teachers can be assured that your studies truly are your highest priority."

Unable to hold her temper any longer, Hermione snapped. "Batting my...? I was doing no such thing!"

"You're accusing me of lying?"

The Head Girl rolled her eyes. "I'm accusing you of being an overly anxious father."

Severus seethed. "I thought I told you that in this classroom our relationship is nothing more than teacher and obnoxious, know-it-all student." Without waiting for her next cry of outrage, he swept towards the door and yanked it open, "You were most certainly bidding for Malfoy's affections and it was a revolting display. See that you curb those behaviours in my class. You are dismissed."

Realising that she had seriously overstepped her bounds, Hermione hesitated. "Dad, I-"

"Dismissed!" He shouted, refusing to hear her apology.

"No!" She yelled back, stamping her foot like a spoilt eleven year old. When Severus' eyes just about bulged out of his head, Hermione cringed, mortified at her own behaviour. "I'm sorry, Sir," she started again, her tone genuinely apologetic, "I didn't mean to be so childish. I just…I would like very much to sort this matter out…" when he moved to speak, she hastily added, "with my Dad. In his quarters." And if she felt at all strange talking about him as though he were two different people, she managed to keep it well hidden.

Severus' shoulders sagged with reluctant agreement. "Very well," he responded, closing the classroom door once more and leading her to his office door.

Hermione entered after him, waiting for his signal to speak.

"I'm waiting." Severus' tone, though softer than it had been earlier, was steely. It was clear that she had truly hurt and disappointed him.

Hanging her head, she sighed. "I'm really sorry, Dad."

Severus acknowledged the apology with a stiff nod. "I shall speak to Albus about your class schedule."

She snapped her head up immediately, confusion etched across her features. "What? Why?"

"You were concerned about my inability to be anything other than professional in the classroom. I will rectify the problem by getting another Professor to oversee your Potions work."

Hermione gaped at him. "No! There aren't any Potions Professors as qualified as you!" She shook her head, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to imply that you would be too biased to be my teacher!"

"Really?" Her father's tone was heavy with sarcasm. "It's strange, but I'm certain that that was exactly the message you imparted only minutes ago. Perhaps I'm going senile as well!"

"Dad, please! I didn't mean it!" Hermione cried, ashamed of her behaviour. Merlin, she hadn't acted this way in years! And she certainly hadn't rowed with a parent like this since before she arrived at her first year of Hogwarts, her argument with him (that had led to her calling him 'Dad') notwithstanding. "I was reacting out of spite. I didn't like the things you said, so I just…"

"Said some awful things in return."

Hermione nodded. "I'm so very sorry."

Severus considered her admission, realising that her instinctive reaction to lash out verbally was eerily similar to his own usual behaviour. He sighed and gestured for her to draw closer to him. When she was within arm's reach, he brought her in for an awkward hug. "Merlin, Girl, stop crying." She continued to weep in his arms, repeating her apology. He sighed again. "Hermione, the tears are pointless. Your apology is accepted. I realise I shouldn't have pushed the issue…"

Hiccupping, she pulled away. "No," she told him, wiping at her eyes, "you were right. You're my Professor in that room. I shouldn't expect you to be lenient on me just because you're also my Dad."

His lips quirked upwards. "So you admit to flirting with Malfoy when you should have been paying attention to my lecture?"

She couldn't help giggling at that. "I might be a little upset, but I'm not stupid. You're not going to trick me into admitting I did anything."

Severus shook his head with a frown. "I was merely concerned that your attentions were not where they should have been. It appeared, from my position, that you truly were more interested in garnering the boy's attention than focusing on the lecture. However," he offered her the ghost of a smile, "I have been known to be wrong before, not that I have ever admitted as much. So, if you assure me that you were not flirting during my class, I will believe it."

Hermione smiled and hugged him tightly. "I assure you," she said, pulling back, "that I wasn't trying to flirt with anyone."

"Good," Severus replied, glad that the argument had been solved, "See that you never do."

She rolled her eyes.

-?-

Draco was waiting for her in the Head's commons, alongside Harry and Greg. She laughed and extended her arms out as she entered the room. "See?" she asked them. "I'm alive and unscathed."

The boys nodded, though Draco was the first to ask, "So what did he want, then?"

"Well," Hermione began, dropping down into the closest spare seat, "he just wanted a chat, really."

Harry saw through her half-lie and frowned. "And now the complete truth," he prompted.

"Oh, honestly…" the Head Girl scowled and crossed her arms angrily, "He was concerned that I hadn't shown as much interest in the lecture as I should have."

"That's never made 'im pull a student aside before," Greg mused.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, Greg. I suppose I might as well tell you now; everyone else'll find out on Sunday night anyway." She leant back and shrugged. "It turns out I'm not really a Muggleborn after all. I learnt, just before the hols actually, that I was adopted when I was born. My real parents were really two wizards, both somewhat effected by the War at the time. It's really quite a long and complicated story, but the crux of the matter is that Professor Snape is my paternal father, and Professor Lupin is my maternal father. I spent the holidays with Draco, getting to know my parents, Professor Snape in particular. We've become quite close." She smiled. "So, yes, I suppose he just wanted to impart a few final words of wisdom before the official start of the school year."

Though her spiel had been longwinded and full of surprises, Greg took it all in stride. He processed the words for a moment, and then offered her a toothy grin. "Snape's daughter, eh?" He sent a sidelong glance in Draco's direction, before turning back to Hermione. "That's an interestin' development. But you sound 'appy, so I s'pose that makes me 'appy for you."

"Thanks," she replied, before checking her watch. "Oh, we're running late for dinner!"

At the mention of food, all three boys clambered for the portrait, Hermione trailing after them with a laugh. It was only when she realised that Ron would usually head the pack towards the Great Hall that her smile faded.

In the Hall, she glanced up at the staff table, taking a second glance when she saw her parents engaged in what looked like friendly conversation. Not merely civil, but friendly. Both men wore smiles as they chatted quietly together.

Recalling how bitter her Dad had initially been whenever Remus was mentioned, Hermione considered her own current social estrangement. Surely, if Severus Snape could reconcile with Remus Lupin, she and Ronald Weasley could befriend one another again, couldn't they?

She peered down the table to spot the redheaded object of her musings deep in conversation with a much more upbeat Lavender Brown. He looked up to meet her gaze and offered her a hesitant smile, which she returned with a nod.

Yes, she decided, smiling softly to herself, she would work things out with him after all.

-?-

Later that evening, Hermione and Draco met in the cobbled courtyard and sat down on a stone bench, savouring a moment of tranquil privacy.

"So, I take it from your admission earlier that you're planning on coming out of the Pureblood cupboard on Sunday, then?"

Hermione laughed. "Honestly, Draco, you use some of the strangest mixed metaphors. Somewhat incorrectly, at that."

He nudged her. "It was still a valid question."

"Yes, it was." She sighed and leant back against him, her eyes closed. "I've decided to change my surname."

Draco's chest rumbled as he spoke. "Yeah? To?"

"Lupin-Snape. It's hyphenated, obviously. Dad and Remus seemed really pleased."

"Don't blame them. It's a big step to take. Shows how proud you are to be theirs."

Hermione sat up and turned to face him. "Well, why wouldn't I be?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Not saying you wouldn't. But I thought you were still quite attached to your Muggle parents. Didn't want to give up that part of your identity either."

A lump formed in her throat and she attempted to clear it before she spoke. "They named me Hermione. A lot of the person I am is because of the way they raised me. I'll never forget them, and I'll always love them."

"But?"

"But," she extrapolated at his prompting, "I want to show the world that I'm not ashamed of my biological heritage either. And that I love Severus and Remus, even though they're not a 'conventional' family unit, or together at all." She looked at him beseechingly. "Do you think I've done the right thing?"

His arms were around her in an instant. "Of course I do. You're doing everyone proud. I'm sure your Muggles are looking down on you with pride, too."

She smiled, knowing that it was very rare to have Draco be so open and emotive, and that he was behaving this way solely for her benefit. "Thank you."

Now it was his turn to clear his throat. "Just…don't go telling anyone that I'm so nice to you, got it?"

She laughed at the playful sparkle in his eye and settled back into his embrace. "Got it."

-?-

Hermione awoke on Saturday morning to the sound of angry raised voices in the bathroom. She groaned and pushed herself out of bed, pulling her dressing gown on as she padded across the room. Yanking open the door, her eyes widened comically at the sight of her lover and best friend, both naked, snapping at one another.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, covering her eyes, "What's going on here?"

The Boy-Who-Lived grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself as he spun to glare at her. "Maybe you should answer that question first!"

"What?"

He stomped towards her, clutching his towel closed with one hand and gesturing wildly at Draco with the other. "You said you were just friends!"

Blushing hotly, Hermione planted her hands on her hips. "No, I never! You said that Draco and I were friends. I just never bothered to correct you."

Harry gaped at her for a moment. "Why?"

"I don't know…" she sighed, running a hand through her knotted hair, "I just wanted to enjoy something secret for once. It was something private and exciting and…something that was just mine." She met his gaze. "I would have told you eventually."

Her best friend regarded her for a moment, before blushing from head to toe. "I can't believe you've seen me starkers."

There wasn't much more Hermione could do than laugh and embrace her friend in an awkward, one-armed hug.

-?-

Later that morning, as they were walking through Hogsmeade, Hermione pulled Harry aside and led him to a secluded bench outside the Shrieking Shack.

"About this morning," she began, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, "I didn't think that keeping my relationship a secret would be so hard on you, and I'm sorry about that."

Harry brushed her apology off. "Don't. It's fine. It really wasn't any of my business. I was just taken by surprise when Draco waltzed into that bathroom in the buff, acting like he owned the place."

"Well," the girl began, smirking wickedly, "It was certainly a surprise seeing you naked in our bathroom, too." She gave him a one-armed hug when he blushed, then became quite serious. "I wasn't aware that you and Greg had become so…close. Not that it's any of my business, mind you."

The Boy-Who-Lived laughed. "I suppose we've both kept our share of secrets..."

Hermione was silent for a moment. It really did surprise her just how quickly Harry's relationship with Greg had blossomed, but then her fling with Matthew had been an impulsive teenage decision (not that it had been anything meaningful to either one of them), and her relationship with Draco had also evolved quite quickly. She supposed it was a side-effect of the war; they'd lost so much of their youth already, it made sense to grasp the good things in life as soon as they came along, to make up for lost time and enjoy whatever peace they had ahead of them.

"Well then, as long as we're both happy," she eventually said, carding her fingers through his perpetually messy hair, grinning when he closed his eyes and leant into the contact.

"Mmmhmm…"

-?-

"Enter!" Severus called in response to the knocking at his office door. He arched an eyebrow when Remus poked his head in.

"Am I interrupting?"

Setting aside his lesson plans, the Potions Master shook his head. "Not particularly. Just making some final amendments to my planning." He rose from his seat and opened the portrait that led to his private quarters. "I have your wolfsbane waiting in my private lab. I assume that's why you're here."

"Partially," Remus replied, shutting the portrait behind him, "I'm a little concerned that I'm taking it so early; full moon's not for another three days. You said that this month's dose was experimental?"

"I've made a few modifications that require the process to be more drawn out than usual, yes. The design is to lessen the toll the transformation takes on your body, by, essentially, preparing you sooner on a bio-molecular level."

"Sort of like…bracing myself?"

Severus offered him a genuine smile. "Simply put, yes."

"Oh," the werewolf sighed happily, dropping down into his usual armchair, "that sounds wonderful." His smile faded, "But you shouldn't have wasted your time with it. After all I've put you through…it's far too thoughtful and time-consuming."

"Remus, honestly." Severus rolled his eyes as he retrieved a goblet of murky grey liquid. "The past is behind us. Besides," he handed the goblet to the other man, "the potion is still in its experimental stages and, as such, may not do much more than put a bitter taste in your mouth twice more than it usually would."

"But all the extra effort-"

"Really, man, get a hold of yourself. I'm a Potions Master and a Slytherin to boot. Should these modifications be successful, I will receive acclaim and funding to do bigger, better things. I'm merely taking advantage of your pitiful state."

Remus rolled his eyes; he didn't believe his ex-lover for a second. Certainly, the acclaim and funding would benefit him, but Severus rarely took on new projects unless he truly felt an emotional connection to the subject matter, such as when he created potions for the Order during the war, or, more recently, when he created Hermione's special hair-care solutions.

Downing the foul-tasting potion, Remus spluttered and summoned a strong tea, which he also drank quickly, to remove the taste. After his stomach settled, he looked across at Severus and smiled softly. "We both know that you're lying," he said quietly.

Dark eyes met his. "Indeed?"

"You only do things like this for people you care about. And I'm glad...because I care about you, too."

Severus stared across the room at him, unblinking. This was the closest they'd come to discussing their relationship –previous or possibly in the future- and it had both men on edge. "You're being incredibly presumptuous. We've barely been on speaking terms for a week and you have the nerve to start on about feelings?"

Remus fidgeted, feeling much like he had the first time he'd confronted Severus when they were in fifth year, "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Oh, believe me, Lupin, I'm not uncomfortable." The Slytherin was up and out of his seat, which caused Remus to instinctively stand as well. Severus advanced on him, forcing him to stumble backwards. "I'm past being merely uncomfortable."

"Severus-"

"No, Remus. You started this particular avenue of conversation."

Remus closed his eyes as his back came in contact with the wall.

Severus leaned forward, so that he and Remus were almost nose-to-nose. "Uncomfortable," he whispered, watching as his breath caused a few loose tendrils of Lupin's light brown hair to flutter, "was putting aside the train-wreck of our past for the sake of our daughter. Uncomfortable," he reiterated, his fingers itching to grab those very same tendrils of hair, "was opening my quarters to you after years of mistrust and hatred."

Remus swallowed convulsively. Severus watched his Adam's apple bob up and down with the motion.

"Uncomfortable," he said for the final time, "is behind me. Unbearably awkward and painful, on the other hand, is being in such close proximity with you every day, wanting to ignore any feelings I have towards you and failing miserably. It is far too soon to be feeling anything other than renewed civility, yet, however logical that may seem, the rest of me doesn't appear to agree."

Remus opened his eyes, stunned by Severus' admission, only to be more surprised when their lips connected in a searing kiss. Verbal confrontation, it appeared, could wait a little longer.

-?-

Sunday morning arrived as any other; the birds twittered in the trees outside, small creatures scurried about on the vast school grounds, and house elves prepared breakfast in the kitchens for those few students eager enough to be out of bed at such an early hour. In the staff quarters of one Severus Snape, Remus Lupin stretched luxuriously and opened his eyes with a yawn, blinking a few times to come to terms with the fact that he was staring straight into the eyes of his ex lover. His memories of the previous night came rushing to the foreground of his mind, and he grasped for the blankets around him, knowing that underneath the sheets he was naked and vulnerable.

"Er," he started, when Severus made no move to broach a conversation, "Good morning?"

The Head of Slytherin arched an eyebrow. "Good morning? We shag each other senseless with very little thought as to how or why we'll justify it when we're barely being civil to one another, and all you can manage is 'good morning'?"

Trust Severus to cut to the chase in a situation like this. Remus cleared his throat. "Well, it seemed the polite thing to do."

"Indeed?"

It took Remus a moment to realise that Severus was enjoying seeing him squirm. He frowned. "Don't think I'm going to stammer and apologise my way out of this one, Severus," he said, sitting up against the headboard, too self-righteous to give a damn about his nudity anymore, "If anything, you initialised the contact and, if memory serves me correctly, we both thoroughly enjoyed it-"

"Because we're human, you simpering fool, and male to boot! And, I'm not entirely certain about you, but, when you've been deprived from sexual intercourse for as long as I had, it's entirely understandable that you would enjoy it the next chance you received." Severus' face was flushed with indignity as he continued. "Had I been thinking with the head on my shoulders, last night's activities would not have happened at all."

The werewolf noted that the other man did not deny that it had been his contact which had sparked the encounter and he stifled his smile, deciding that, when riled up as he was, Severus was extremely attractive. "Don't say that, Severus, please." Remus said, reaching across to touch the other man's shoulder tentatively. "Of course, it's true that a large part of my enjoyment was for those reasons, but- and this will sound terribly adolescent- the crux of the matter was that I was with you. It's always been you, Sev, and-"

"Merlin's beard, Wolf, must you get all sappy?" Severus pulled away from the other man's touch. "It's revolting."

This time Remus couldn't hide his smile. "You used to say that when we were kids, too." When his Slytherin counterpart merely snorted, he continued. "But, really, we're adults now. What happened last night was bound to happen at some point. Things were tense...really, incredibly tense...and I can't say that I regret that it did."

This time Severus did make a move to argue, but Remus kept talking. "I know we've got a lot to discuss, and it will take a long time to get back to the way we were, but I have to be honest. I know I said I was content with just civility. Then friendship. But I'm not. I'll admit it; I'm selfish. I want you, Severus. I want us. And you all but admitted the same thing last night. Now," he held up his hand to stave off the rant that he knew was coming, "I'm not saying I want it right this second, but please don't use this as a chance to ruin how far we've come."

He gave Severus a look so doleful and emotive that, while all he longed to do was turn away and run, Severus sighed, closed his eyes and nodded. And, as it had happened all those years ago, Remus accepted his silence for agreement and lunged at him within an instant.

"Thank you, Severus," he breathed, before realising that he was already breaking his promise to give it some time before they evolved into the relationship he so desperately craved. Pulling away, he was met with a bemused expression. "Sorry," he stated sheepishly, now all too aware that he wasn't the only one not wearing anything beneath the duvet, "I just...got carried away."

Every fibre in Severus Snape's being screamed at him to turn tail on this entire situation, but he knew that it wouldn't be fair to Remus or, more importantly, their daughter. And the part of him that was emotionally detached from the situation agreed; he'd stayed awake all night thinking about it. Long after Remus had drifted off to sleep in post-coital bliss murmuring semi-conscious words of love and endearment, Severus had sat awake and pondered the repercussions of what they'd just done. Of what he'd initiated.

Naturally, Remus' words had been correct; things had been so tense, it was only to be expected that one of them would have snapped eventually. Severus just hadn't thought it would be him. Certainly, he'd known that he couldn't ignore his feelings forever, but he'd thought that it would be Remus to snap and beg for another go, Remus to seduce him...and it hadn't.

He'd been the weaker man. He'd been the one to push Remus against the wall and brutally force their lips together. He'd been the one to lead them to the bedroom, to divest them of their clothes, to take what he wanted without a second thought. It didn't matter to him that Remus had responded eagerly, or that he had begged Severus to drive into him harder and faster than Severus had thought himself capable. In this scenario, Severus could only see his own weakness, and for hours that night he had berated himself for it.

But, as the sun had risen, a strange calm had settled over him, and he had started to see reason. He'd made mistakes before, too many mistakes to name, and his actions that night could not honestly fall into the same category. Certainly, he felt foolish, but on some level he felt liberated. For the first time in almost twenty years he had acted on an emotional impulse to pursue some semblance of a relationship rather than end it. And it had felt good, not just physically, but emotionally.

It hadn't been tender love making, it had been a brutal assault on their senses. And it had helped, Severus realised with startling clarity. He'd poured all of his anger and frustration into his actions, and Remus had begged for it. He'd wanted to take it on because, where Severus had been angry and frustrated, he'd felt guilty and in need of some solid retribution. Remus had needed Severus to vent his frustrations onto him – into him- just as badly as Severus had needed to vent. And when they had climaxed, one after the other, they'd been completely and utterly spent, emotionally more importantly than physically.

In one night, Severus realised, they had, without voicing it, resolved many more issues than they had in two decades.

The Slytherin looked at his lover and rolled his eyes. He didn't need to ask if Remus knew the magnitude of what they'd achieved that night; it was clear that the wolf had known it long before he had.

"Spare me your melodramatics, Lupin," he eventually replied, eyes glinting with the promise of a new start, while his heart beat erratically, gripped with the fear that he was yet again putting it in someone else's hands – the same someone who had broken it once before.

And Remus saw it; Severus' fear and anxiety at once again being vulnerable. He knew it was a huge step for the usually guarded man, and resolved to never - not ever- be the one to break his trust again.

"Severus," he said softly, as though speaking above a whisper would shatter the reality in which they now found themselves, "Make love to me?"

And, for the first time in almost twenty years, Severus didn't need to be asked twice. He closed the space between them and drew his lover in to a kiss much more gentle and languid than anything either man had experienced in almost two decades, relishing the soft gasp of pleasure it elicited. Remus' hands moved to card through inky black hair, cupping the back of Severus' head while they kissed.

Severus' own hands gently reacquainted themselves with his lover's body. He hadn't taken the opportunity the night before to map out the man's still-too-thin frame, so he was determined to take his time now. Remus felt achingly familiar and yet altogether different, more muscular and scarred than he had been when they were teenagers, and infinitely more powerful- both physically and magically. Severus knew that he had similarly changed over the two decades they'd been apart, but the changes in the body beneath him excited him in an almost surprising manner.

The Slytherin pulled away from the kiss, chuckling softly at the disappointed whimper the action brought forth before attaching his lips to the tanned flesh of Remus' collar bone. Remus' breathing hitched as Severus lathed a path of half-kisses downwards across his chest, pausing to lavish attention on his nipples, and then lower over his abdomen towards his hip.

Now reclining, Remus closed his eyes and enjoyed his lover's ministrations, revelling in the intimacy as much as the pleasure itself. Certainly, he'd had other lovers over the years, but nothing would ever compare to the feeling of being with the man he truly loved. It both thrilled and terrified him that his dreams were coming true, and he could only hazard a guess as to how Severus must feel about their reconciliation. But those thoughts were banished as a talented tongue teased its way down the too-prominent 'V' of his pubic bone and then up the other side, deliberately avoiding the one place that Remus was aching for attention.

Severus chuckled again as Remus' thighs -oddly muscular and strong in contrast to the disguised musculature of the man's upper body- quivered and bucked when he skirted around the straining erection. He placed a hand upon one to settle his lover, smirking when the touch only seemed to further arouse him. The muscle beneath his hand tensed and Severus dropped a kiss to its twin, giving a fleeting thought to just how erotic he found those thighs. He'd never really been drawn to overtly muscular men, but to see and feel such strength on his lean lover made his own cock pulse in anticipation. To feel those thighs wrapped around him, squeezing him as he thrust in and out of Remus' tight warmth...he could feel his own patience wearing thin. Another thought, even more fleeting, took him completely by surprise: what might it feel like to have those powerful thighs behind him, driving Remus into him?

He faltered at the mental image. He had never taken the submissive position in any of his couplings. In thirty-seven years of living he'd never seen the appeal, or trusted his partners enough, but suddenly the idea that he might allow Remus to take him had his own arousal throbbing harder than he could ever recall.

The thighs beneath his hands lifted from the sheets again and brought Severus careening back into reality. Shaken by the revelation of his thoughts, he set aside all pretence of patience and took Remus's length into his mouth, sucking and twisting his tongue in the way he remembered drove the other man wild. Immediately there were hands in his hair, a litany of half-intelligible words and murmurs of encouragement filling the silence that had descended.

"Merlin, Sev," Remus all but moaned, the tone of his voice giving away just how much he had missed his lover. Severus pulled away from his task and surged back up the mattress, taking Remus' lips in a claiming kiss, rubbing his hardness against his mate's and gasping when a hand that was not his own reached down to grip them together.

Wordlessly, and without aid of his wand, Severus summoned the pot of lubricant that he had discarded carelessly in his haste the night before and set about preparing Remus properly. He'd not been at all gentle last night –Remus hadn't wanted him to be, either- but this time would be different. This was their official re-coupling, and he was going to put into action the things he couldn't put into words.

Now Remus did moan when Severus' talented fingers pleasured him with confidence and precision. He cast his mind back to their first time and smothered a bittersweet sigh; gone were the inexperienced but awed fumblings of their youth, their shared naivety and whispered promises of utter commitment, but in their place was sexual confidence and strength that neither boy would have ever anticipated, experience (with others) that neither boy would have claimed to have wanted, and a wariness that the perfection of the moment couldn't possibly last.

Once Severus deemed the other man thoroughly prepped, he positioned himself between those thighs and, locking his eyes upon Remus', slid inside him at an almost torturously slow pace. Fully seated, Severus closed his eyes and allowed himself a chance to savour the moment as he hadn't done the night prior. Honestly? As maudlin as it sounded, being inside the other man felt like coming home. He opened his eyes to see his emotions mirrored on Remus' face: the man's expression contorted into one of contented bliss, his eyes shining wet with unshed tears and unspoken terms of endearment.

Severus pulled back and then thrust forward slowly, bending down to capture Remus' lips in another long, languid kiss, his hips setting a gentle pace for their love making in direct contrast to the night before. Where that had been about fucking his frustrations out, this was about starting anew. Despite being afraid that he was handing his heart over to the man who had all but broken it, Severus was too far gone to back out now.

Beneath him, Remus gasped and writhed, clutching at Severus' back and urging him to move faster, harder, or "Gods, Sev, right there."

Severus snaked his hand between them to stroke his lover's neglected, weeping erection in time with his languorous thrusts, revelling in the sounds that doing so pulled from the fairer man. Unlike the night before, Severus was in no rush to finish, and, unlike their teen years, he had stamina in spades. He pressed his lips to Remus' neck, sucking at the skin possessively with the intent to leave a mark, knowing that it appealed to the primal nature of the wolf. As he might have predicted, Remus responded with a throaty growl, his arousal jumping in Severus' hold. So Severus repeated the action.

"You know I won't last if you keep doing that," Remus warned between alluring little gasps, before throwing his head back against the pillows as Severus angled his hips and thrust with uncanny accuracy to graze that magical spot inside him. "Or that!" He cried. "Oh Merlin..."

Severus smirked and dipped his head to Remus' again, enjoying yet another kiss. His lover practically melted against him with a sigh, moaning when Severus deliberately grazed his prostate again. "Is that not the purpose, Remus?" he asked, his smirk softening into something far more gentle when his lover's eyes widened with surprise and lust at the practically purred use of his given name, his cock giving another telling pulse in Severus' hand.

"You know, you're far too coherent right now, Sev..." Came the reply, before Remus' expression turned slightly wicked. "We need to –oh Gods- fix that."

Before the Slytherin could teasingly ask what Remus proposed to do, he felt it; the man beneath him deliberately clenching around his cock and tightening his thighs around his waist, pushing him deeper into his lover. Those thighs... An appreciative moan of his own was pulled from Severus' mouth.

Remus bore down as much as he could, watching the reaction flit across Severus' face. "Much better," he decided, giving a subtle shift of his hips, still clenching and unclenching.

Not one to be bested under any circumstance, Severus angled his own hips and began a succession of swift little thrusts over Remus' prostate while simultaneously stroking him in time with the movement, knowing that the other man was close to the edge when those thighs fell slack from his waist and tensed and quivered against the mattress. Severus considered halting his actions and making Remus beg for release, but, as he watched the Gryffindor's face shutter with emotion, found that he needed to watch his lover come undone.

Remus came with a cry, the tremors of his orgasm drawing out Severus' own, and they collapsed together in a sweaty, sticky, sated pile on the bed, kissing gently as their bodies twitched with the trembling of their combined afterglow.

There would be no turning back from here, Severus knew, and instead of terror he found he could only feel...elation?

-?-

When Ronald Weasley stumbled upon Lavender Brown crying in the third floor bathroom that morning, he frowned down at her.

"You know," he said gently, sliding down the wall to sit beside her, "this is my private refuge. You're going to have to find yourself another one."

Sniffling, she peered through the curtain of her hair wearily. "Seriously?" She asked him, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips, "You come to a girl's restroom to think?"

"Well," he shrugged, "Yeah. Have done since second year. Nobody else comes here, and Myrtle's not such bad company when she's not crying at you..." He looked around, as though expecting the aforementioned ghost to materialise before them. "Where is she, anyway?"

Lavender snorted. "I told her to sod off and haunt someone else for a while. I sort of wanted to be alone."

"Oh, er...should I leave then?"

"No! I...umm...I like your company." As per the previous day, she silently chided herself for becoming attached to this boy, knowing that he'd more than likely flee once the truth came out. After all, not only was she damaged goods, but a baby was enough to scare most grown men off for life, let alone a carefree teenager.

"Yours isn't all that terrible either," Ron replied, grinning at her.

She smiled sadly at his flirting. "Not yet, anyway." The tears returned to her eyes and she shamefully turned away, stifling the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her yet again.

How she hated herself for those tears! How dare she feel so sorry for herself when this was –at the very least fifty percent – her doing? She knew that now more than ever she'd need to act like a mature adult, but it was that thought which caused the tears to flow. She was mourning the official end of her childhood and, at the same time, was gripped by a fear so great that she felt like a lost little girl again.

"Hey," Ron said, brushing tears away from her exposed cheek, "What's all this about? I didn't mean to upset you. I was just teasing."

She swallowed and forced herself to calm down and face him, refusing to allow him to believe that he was the reason for her tears. "This isn't your fault," she told him, her voice wavering, "except for the fact that you're so sweet, and caring, and thoughtful and...perfect, really, and I'm sitting here, flirting with you, which is wrong because...because..."

He stared at her as she babbled, wincing as the tears resurfaced and hysteria almost overwhelmed her.

"Shh," he said, drawing her into a hug. As much as he wanted to hear the reason for her distress, he couldn't bear to see her work herself into a state about it. "Look, you don't have to explain anything to me, okay? If you want me to back off, I will." She moved to protest, but he quickly cut her off. "Not as a friend, though. I'll just...tone down on the flirting."

Though his words were meant to be reassuring, Lavender cried harder. He was so sweet, and it felt so good to be held by him, and she knew -she just knew - that he'd recoil when she told him the truth, which hurt her so much because, she realised, she really liked him.

"Oh, Ron," she sniffled, pulling away from him, knowing that she had to be strong and tell him now to save herself from getting too attached, "Why do you have to be so damn nice? It makes it so much harder to do this when you're nice."

"Do what, Lav? I don't understand."

"I like you, Ron. I really like you. And that's the problem, because I can't like you. I can't allow myself to like you."

The redhead was seriously confused by this stage. "Okay..." He drew the word out with a hint of vague sarcasm, playfully indicating that he thought she was a little crazy.

"No, it's not okay! You sweep in here and hug me, and listen to me cry and whinge, and you're so supportive, and it's not only because you want to get into my knickers because I've already told you that you can't and you accepted that so readily and even apologised and-"

"Whoa, slow down, Lav."

She took in a large, calming breath. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just...this is so hard to do."

"Then don't do it." Ron looked across at her with concern and placed his hands on hers, which she had been twisting painfully in her lap. "I already told you, I'm happy to just be a friend. I don't have so many of them these days, which is my own stupid fault, and I don't intend on losing your friendship as well. I don't want to see you so upset, either."

And he didn't; after his revelation the previous day, he didn't want to see the object of his affections so distraught, whether she was his girl or just his friend. "And you and I have never been that close up 'til now. If it hurts you so much to tell me what's going on, then don't. It's none of my business, and I don't want to see you suffer any more."

Lavender swallowed hard and processed his words. She desperately needed the support of friends now, too, and here he was, offering her just that. "Everyone will know soon anyway," she said, repeating Hermione's earlier words. "I can't keep this hidden forever."

Ron frowned as tears welled in her eyes again. "Lav, you don't have to-"

"But I do, Ron. You said it yourself; you're my friend. And, if I can't tell my friends, how am I supposed to come to terms with this myself, right?"

He nodded, and put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her encouragingly. "Whatever's going on, you've got my support, yeah?"

She looked across at him and smiled wanly. We'll see... It would be nice, she decided, to have his support through this, even if she couldn't be with him romantically. But he was a teenage boy; how much of this would he honestly be able to take? Taking another deep breath, she spoke, avoiding looking at him, fearful of his reaction, of his inevitable recoil and rejection. "I'm pregnant, Ron." She felt his arm stiffen momentarily, and tried to stifle the pain she felt, knowing the thoughts that were most likely going through his head.

He surprised her, though, by tilting her chin gently with his free hand, forcing her eyes to be level with his. "Lav," he said, "Open your eyes."

She honestly hadn't realised that she'd shut them.

When she complied, she came face to face with him and took in his expression. He was concerned but not revolted. She immediately relaxed.

His next words seemed to come deep from within his chest, and were spoken in a tone so serious that she found herself staring at him for a moment. "Who do I need to hex?"

She couldn't help it; she laughed.

"Oh, Ron," she leaned into his embrace, "Thank you. Thank you for not hating me."

"I couldn't hate you for this, Lav," he said, his tone still entirely serious. "I'm a Weasley. Reproduction is sort of what we're best known for. However," he held her by the shoulders at arm's length, searching her eyes when he repeated, "who do I need to hex?"

She shook her head, and prepared to tell him exactly what she'd told Hermione and Parvati on Thursday.

-?-

In the Heads' common room, Hermione and Draco sat on the plush couch in front of the unlit fireplace, talking quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping couple upstairs.

"So, you're sure you're ready for tonight then?"

The Gryffindor smiled at her boyfriend, secretly pleased that he was genuinely concerned for her. "I think so," she replied honestly, "I know I've made the right decision."

He cocked his head to the side, knowing that she wasn't being completely honest. "But?"

"You're really far too perceptive for your own good, you know." She sighed when he failed to rise to the bait. "But," she supplied, "I am a little nervous. I mean, I know that a lot of people will be supportive, but others..." she tapered off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

Draco did so for her. "Others won't be particularly kind about it, no." He gave her a moment to think before he continued, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him so that her head rested on his shoulder, her now wavy hair pillowing his chin. "But who gives a toss what they think anyway? You've never really cared how people viewed you; and just because you're no longer a Muggleborn doesn't change who you are. The smart ones will realise that, and the others aren't worth your time."

"I know that," she responded, closing her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair, "Really, I do, but I can't help but feel nervous about it all anyway."

"Well," he started, thinking out loud, "maybe we should go out for a bit. Find something to distract you with for a while."

She sat up straight and tilted her head to the side. "You know, that's not a bad idea."

He laughed. "I've been known to have the occasional brainwave."

"What do you propose we do, then?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She hit him. "Honestly, is that all you think about?"

Rubbing his now sore arm, he scowled at her. "Right about now I'm thinking about hexing you."

"You wouldn't!"

He grinned wickedly. "Oh, but I would..."