My initial acceptance of the fact that the Hermione who had come from the future was married to me in that future did not last long, though never once did I think she was lying. After we parted ways (soon after Weasley left) because neither of us felt like research and I felt like some time alone, I retreated to my office, where I sat staring at the paintings of past Headmasters. However, Dumbledore kept trying to pry whatever was bothering me from me, and I wasn't sure I could quite stand his gloating if he knew that I ended up married (no matter to whom), so I left, wondering where I could go where I didn't stand the chance of running into Hermione, and I finally settled on my own rooms. At least, I hoped I wouldn't run into her there. Undoubtedly she knew how to get in…

I sat in my chair in front of the fireplace, watching flames dance around on logs, musing. Hermione Granger. In the past few weeks I had entertained thoughts of flirting with her- this new, older her, that is, but my thoughts had never really gone farther because I didn't truly believe that she would ever want more than flirting. Also she would be gone in five months, no matter what I did or wanted. And because I didn't think she'd want more, I didn't let myself be bothered by the fact that she was, in reality, twenty years younger than I, though this version was only ten, nor did I let myself be bothered long by the fact that she was a former student of mine, and one I had not been particularly pleasant too. Of course, she was a Gryffindor. And friends with Potter. And a know-it-all. But none of that mattered any more.

I frowned, resting my chin on a hand. Did I even want to be married… to have children? Live every day of my life with someone else? I supposed that wouldn't be happening for some time now, but… after I lost Lily I never considered the idea of ever loving anyone again, and thus never considered the idea of getting married. I sighed… Lily. I still cherished her in my heart, but she was long dead now and the fact was that Hermione wasn't. She was here, and alive, and not likely to die any time soon. Not for ten years at least, anyway.

My logic was rebelling against me. It just couldn't see how loving and marrying Hermione made any sense. She was too young for me, she was a student of mine… But people DID marry people with a twenty year age gap. It had happened. And she was no longer a student of mine, especially not this Hermione. And she was beautiful, she was desirable. Though I hadn't noticed that until she had suddenly aged ten years.

Then there was children. My stomach twisted. Adeline, that two year old baby girl she spoke of? According to Hermione, she was mine as well. As was the baby growing inside of her now. A shiver ran down my spine. Children.

With a slight growl I forced myself to stop thinking about it. None of that would happen for years, not if what Hermione said was true. However… I sighed. There was the question of love. I had loved only one person in my entire life, and that was Lily. A love story that was now plastered across the Wizarding world… Damn Potter. I wasn't sure if I could love again, or if I even knew how. Hermione seemed confident enough about it though, and I couldn't imagine her marrying someone if she wasn't sure he loved her. She was not one to be deceived.

How the hell did she end up loving me anyway? Her younger self was apparently in the future now, interacting with the future me. The one who was married to this Hermione. Already in love with her. Maybe it wasn't so hard to imagine. My eyes bore holes in the fireplace. Finally I stood up and paced around the room.

After a few hours, there was a knock on the door. I froze, then went and opened it, and found who I knew would be there. Hermione. I stepped aside for her to entire, without asking any questions. I wanted to talk to her, anyway. I had a few questions for her.

"You don't look stressed," she said lightly (and sarcastically) as she entered, and then seated herself on the sofa near the fire. She looked like she had been outside. Her cheeks were pink and there were snowflakes in her hair. Snowflakes? I moved over to look outside the window, and sure enough, hundreds of tiny white flakes were gently sailing down over the grounds. First snow of the year. Christmas was coming.

"I'm not," I told her, resuming my previous seat, and avoiding her eyes, "I'm only contemplating the fact that one of my former students apparently ends up marrying me."

"It's not so bad," she said with a smile, because she knew I didn't think it was so bad. Strange, unsettling, and confusing. But bad? Upon contemplation… not really.

"How…" I started, then wondered if the question was appropriate, before deciding it didn't matter, "How do you love me?" It was surprisingly harder to say than I thought it would be. I wasn't used to talking about my feelings. Nor love, specifically.

"Come now, Severus," she said, her voice emitting warmth, "Don't be silly. If Lily could like you, so can I."

"I am not the same person I was when younger," I retorted, "And you marry me. Lily did not."

"She might have," Hermione pointed out, then shook her head and said, "But that's beside the point, because she didn't, and I did. Do. I know you're a selfish, ambitious, and occasionally inconsiderate person. Don't think I'm deluded. Nor will I try and change you. I love you anyway. I love the fact that you can love, despite what you've done."

I appreciated the fact that she said "what you've done" instead of "what you've been through." I'm not sure it would have worked if she loved me out of pity or some sense of my inner heroism or something. I didn't point out the fact that I didn't love her, not yet. She'd fallen in love with me when I did, so that didn't matter.

"Then I will no longer question you," I said, then added, "About your feelings, that is."

"But you will about your own?" she smiled, then scooted closer to the fire and said, "Sit next to me."

I hesitated, then obeyed. But I made sure there was a least a few inches between us. She smiled at me, then reached over and took my hand. I let her, wrapping her warm fingers in my own. It was a good feeling. Surprisingly good.

We stared into the fire together like that for a few minutes, until Hermione turned back to me and said, "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not," I answered, wondering if she knew more about me than I knew about myself, and I actually was afraid. But I didn't feel it. Not right now. What I felt now was… natural. It felt right. My brain said it was wrong, but my heart said it was right.

"I miss you," she said, "I've missed you. It's been so hard… being with you but not able to be with you. Wanting to tell you I love you… But knowing you're not ready to hear it."

"I doubt that I'm ready now," I answered dryly, marveling at the fact that Hermione missed me. I turned my eyes from the fire and looked at her, truly looked at her.

I looked into her eyes, and seeing the love there, part of me wanted to disdain it. I wanted to tell her she was a foolish, ridiculous girl for falling in love with me, and to go back to Weasley. I wanted to tell her that I would never love her, and I wanted to tell her… I wanted to tell her that I was not someone she wanted to love.

But I couldn't. Because she'd know I'd be lying, because she had seen my future. And in the future… I loved her. I must have told her it too, and I must have meant it. I meant it so much I married her, and was having children with her. I couldn't imagine loving anyone enough to want to have kids. I looked at her stomach, round with the child growing inside her. Mine, if she told true. I had no doubt she did, partly from my good ability to read people after learning Legilimency (not that I was reading her mind, one just learned what outer signals went with what inner thoughts after a while), and partly from the fact that I didn't believe this Hermione would lie to me.

I hoped Hermione couldn't read my thoughts on my face. I liked to think I was an emotionally reserved person, but I knew I wasn't, most of the time. When I was angry, I was angry, when happy, I… gloated. When I was unhappy, I took it out on others. The only part of emotion I was reserved about would have to be true friendship, true liking… and love. I looked away from Hermione. She was probably right about being afraid. I probably was afraid. But I didn't know if I was, because I wouldn't let myself feel that way.

Another part of me wanted to take advantage of the fact that she was holding my hand and confessing her love to me. That part wanted to lean over and kiss her, hold her… take what she offered by telling me the future. Take advantage of her and be cruel to her, to prove her wrong about the future she was so sure of.

But the last part of me, possibly the smallest part, said no. Don't tell her to go away. Don't hurt her. I don't know if it's because I knew I didn't… based on what she told me. If I had hurt her, or been cruel to her, she never would have married me. But that wasn't it, not all of it. I didn't want to because… a very tiny part of me wanted the future to play out as she said it did. I wanted love, and marriage, and happiness, and children. I wondered what the me of the future was like. I suddenly knew then, with firm conviction, that if it were not for her mysterious incident of time travel, the future would not have happened as she claimed it did. I knew that if Hermione, her nineteen year old self had somehow fallen in love with me, through some sort of working together, or not, and told me of it, that I would laugh at her. I would laugh at her and reject her and never think of it again, even if I had started to entertain some feelings for her, emotional or physical. That realization changed me, because I now knew that I was wrong. If that had happened, and that's what I did, I would have been wrong.

I looked back into the fire, and I wondered what fate had decided this future for the two of us, because I certainly knew it would not have happened on its own.

A/N: Thanks for reading!! Feedback appreciated!