Author's Note: I'm back! Settling in back home, my wedding was WONDERFUL! Thanks to all for the well-wishes!

CHAPTER 21

It took an entire week for the events of Easter to pass over and let life settle back to a comfortable pace. Weasley recovered rather quickly, thanks, in part, to the effort expended by both his brother and Severus himself, and was recuperating in his childhood home. Granted, if you were to hear Molly tell it, it was her homemade soups that were restoring her son to good health. (Hermione had argued that they all knew it had been him but were trying to spare him by not thanking him with classic Gryffindor reactions. He didn't give a shite either way as long as no one insisted on hugging him. Well, except for her.)

The new Healer Martha had procured for herself was less of an imbecile, he'd decided, surreptitiously checking in on her on a consult call to St Mungo's under the guise of dropping off her potions while he was present. She'd been asleep when he'd come, which he preferred – the woman was much too cheerful to begin with, and with her body changing she was almost nauseating. He'd rather not lose his lunch, thank you very much. At least she clearly hadn't told anyone of his interference – with the exception of Hermione, they'd all assumed he'd been called initially about Weasley.

He'd neatly avoided any chance to disabuse them of that notion. Just as well; George was due to start the third vial of antidotes tomorrow, which meant an end to this particular round of justice. The first one had made the man sick – violent vomiting, and his freckles had turned a fascinating shade of puce.

The second "attempt" had turned his skin bright green. For some reason, the breasts themselves had turned pink. He'd also been struck with alternating hiccups and a squeaky voice. Severus had, of course, stuck with his employer throughout the whole ordeal, various cauldrons bubbling, assuring him he'd find an answer to correct the problem.

Both vials' effects had faded within twenty-four hours, and Severus had recommended a wait period in-between to "avoid any further interactions". Hopefully after the previous "attempts" and the humiliation would deter his employer from attempting to prank him. At least he'd been so distracted the past week no further attempts had been made. (And better yet, he didn't suspect Severus a bit.)

Even better, Hermione had finished unpacking, and had slotted into his life and home perfectly. He'd taken down his curtains, she'd put up hers. Their furniture shared the space companionably, and he was growing accustomed to having various decorative items in his home – photographs, figurines, trinkets, and even a snowglobe with a fairy inside that made his jaw twitch with the urge to shatter it whenever his gaze fell upon it. She'd wisely placed it in the second bedroom (with a huff) when she'd noticed him fingering his wand thoughtfully. The furniture that hadn't fit had been shrunk and stored, along with her holiday decorations, and she'd fit her computer in beside his in the basement.

They'd fit into a routine – less nights at her parents, more nights at home, sharing tasks in the kitchen and wearing themselves out shelving books and putting away clothes

Tonight, he'd accepted Cissy's invitation to a rather uneventful dinner. Upon his informing her, Hermione'd kissed his cheek and told him she'd be fine with sandwiches, or she'd meet with Lovegood for fish and chips. He wondered if she'd missed him, and marveled at her trust in him – he didn't know of any women (not that his knowledge was particularly extensive) who wouldn't be suspicious of a man taking dinner alone in the home of a newly-single woman. He knew he wouldn't be quick to trust any man out with her alone, with the exception of Harry or the Weasleys. Maybe Longbottom, much as he loathed to admit it. Hell, Albus would have found a way to scry his activities, he brooded with a scowl. Often, he'd thought the old man hadn't truly trusted him as much as he'd professed.

On the other hand, Hermione clearly knew him well. Then again, if my past is worth anything, she knows I am nothing if not loyal, he thought wryly, unlocking the front door quietly. The house was quiet, the lit window upstairs and a lone mug on the kitchen counter the only indication that Hermione had been present that evening.

He frowned. Severus wasn't used to coming home like this – either he knew his house was empty, or Hermione was home with several lights on. Indulging his own paranoid nature, a quick Revelio showed a single human in the main bedroom, while a tug at his wards identified the magical signature as hers. She's probably lost in a tome, he thought, allowing himself a small smile.

If he was honest, he loved having Hermione living with him. She'd expressed concern that she'd be a burden – he'd scoffed at the mere thought, but she was adamant – so they'd come to an agreement, of sorts. The house was paid for, so they split the electric and internet, shared the household chores, and she happily paid for groceries that he turned into their meals (with her assistance). Severus hadn't wanted her to think she was imposing (she wasn't), but nor did he want her to think that he was incapable of supporting her.

Stowing his coat in the front hall closet next to hers, he fingered the material of her coat. She'd taken her role as grocery-purchaser seriously, dragging him to a Muggle supermarket so he could show her what he preferred, even as she'd pulled crisps from the shelf for her own. Granted, she'd also insisted he show her how to buy such things in the wizarding world – she hadn't known. He'd have to owl Minerva, suggest perhaps a basic class for graduating Muggleborns who wouldn't know such things right away. Diagon Alley for wizarding supplies, yes, and perhaps clothing – but not for basic foodstuffs...

Nudging his shoes into their proper place, he padded to the stairs, mounting them slowly, deliberately creaking the fourth step. He'd already terrified her thrice, and two of those times she'd had wand in hand. Near misses, but at least they'd been able to find the humor in the situation and repair the resulting holes in the wall.

The bedroom door was mostly shut, and he rapped on it softly before pushing it open, already ready to use a shielding charm, just in case.

As it turned out, the charm was entirely unnecessary, for his witch was sprawled across her half of the bed, breathing deep and even, book forgotten and draped across her stomach. Not even sparing it a glance, he removed it from her person, marked her place, and placed it upon her nightstand, exhaling irritably as he brushed the chocolate wrappers into the refuse bin. Since when did the wench eat in bed?

Wondering if she'd even remember where she'd left off in her book when she later woke, he quickly performed his evening ablutions. It was warm enough that he wouldn't need a nightshirt – something Hermione was trying to get him to stop wearing, namely by taking it off of him regularly – so he opted for soft sleep pants instead.

It didn't matter to Severus how much she accepted him, he still felt the need to hide himself. And yet at the same time, he still felt the need to hold tightly to her. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was easily obsessive by nature – probably the product of years of being poor and mistreated. He'd learned early that that food was scarce and he'd hidden food from his father, and had eagerly glutted himself at Hogwarts til Cissy had forced table manners into him. He'd clung to several small oddities he'd picked up around school, and hoarded several things that Hermione would likely laugh at if he chose to regale her with stories of his past.

But that was the past – and now all he had to cling to was this woman, whom he had dreamt of for so long, and loved so dearly that he'd kept that damn cat sleeping on the sofa cushions, and let her father call him by a nickname. Hell, he'd clearly wanted her so much that he'd redone his home. And he hated change. He preferred the comfort of the everyday. And yet... and yet, he was happy. Finally happy. It was...odd. Cissy had even risked his ire to point it out to him.

It wasn't that he wanted to be unhappy – far from it – he was simply used to the world thumbing its nose at him, leaving him cold and alone and angry. How he'd managed to garner the warm affections of such a beautiful woman stymied him. At least all he had to do now was not bollocks it up...

Scowling at his own thoughts (this was why he shouldn't have accepted the damn glass of elf-made wine, for fuck's sake, he had so little tolerance and it made him maudlin), he headed to bed, flicking his wand to extinguish the lights, burrowing under the covers in darkness. At least they were finding themselves more comfortable with each other each passing day, and he was finding it easier to be open with her.

"Mmm," came from his left, and a small hand crept into his with a soft sigh. "Sev'rus."

Lips curving into a soft smile in the dark and safety of their home, he gripped her hand in return. Sometimes, perhaps, dreams did come true.

Yes, it's a short chapter. No, I'm not ending the entire story yet. See you soon~!