White-Winged Dove

Severus was thrilled when he found out Hermione had rejected Benjamin Yew's request to escort her to the ball that was only a few days away—not once, but several times. His amusement deepened when he played witness to her slamming the door in his face one evening. He didn't dare tease her that night because he could tell from the way her magic crackled through her hair and frizzed it, crossing her would have surely ended poorly for him. She was in a foul mood throughout the week and Severus wondered if maybe she was experiencing some sort of magical withdrawal from complete disuse of the Hallow.

"Have you been feeling alright, Hermione?" Severus asked as they read silently beside each other in the library. He lowered his book to rest atop the orange cat who was snoring on his lap; Snape long surrendered to the battle that was Crookshanks the half-Kneazle.

"I'm fine I've just been feeling…off," replied Hermione, not tearing her eyes from a book Snape knew she read at least four times already. "I've been having terrible headaches and my appetite has been all over. Awful nightmares."

"Are they of Ron?" He asked softly, trying to catch her eye. She glanced at him.

"That they are. How did you guess that?" asked Hermione curiously. She finally put down her book to turn to him. He shrugged a shoulder.

"I'd imagine after using the stone for so long, an abrupt stop to it would have some sort of psychological and physical effect. A withdrawal. It's most likely stronger than any drug."

Hermione frowned as the gears in her mind turned. "I suppose that does make sense. It was…addictive." She paused. "What did you and Harry do with it?"

"Ah, ah, ah, that's for us to know and you to never find out."

"Prat."

"I'm fine with that."

He felt unusually anxious as he clasped his new cuff links in place and examined himself in the oversized mirror on the chamber wall; the sleek black pant suit he donned fit like a glove and if one looked closely, they could see the swirling intricacy of a subtle floral design. He nearly tossed the garment back at Draco when they were in the robes shop and it took much convincing on the blonde's behalf to even try it on. It was a very "Lucius" get-up, and he was pretty sure that Draco was projecting his recent losses onto him, so he guiltily brought it with him for a fitting.

Snape's hair was neatly pulled back with a gold cord, a minor detail that matched his cuffs and shoe buckles, and he made note to ask Hermione to trim his hair next week. Eating well and being relatively—dare we say—happy made Severus overall healthier; the man reflected before him was fuller than before and his skin wasn't as sallow or stretched over his bones. He even ached a little less. With a final glance over, he swept up his billowing cloak, clamping it over, and was about to depart for Hermione before he heard his floo network flare to life.

"Snape?" came Harry's voice.

"I'm here."

"Hermione is going to meet us there. I'm afraid she's in my wife's clutches right now. I'll meet you at the venue in ten." Snape smirked to himself as the boy disconnected, thinking about how utterly petrified his date must be at the mercy of the red head; she was every bit of Molly and, for a moment, Snape pitied Hermione dealing with them both.

As he departed down the corridor, he shot a quick slicking spell to Hermione's hall opposite of him as he heard the untamable yowl of Crookshanks echo from the darkness. The cat suddenly darted towards him but was not prepared for the enchanted floor and slid the entirety of it, passing Snape, and allowing the well dress man to descend the staircase hair free. He nearly cursed the feline when he found him nosily inquiring his garments when he returned home from the shop. Exiting the estate, Snape cast a few precautionary charms over the property before disapparating into the early evening.

Snape found himself standing before the tall marble columns of the venue site which was only a few blocks away from the Ministry in a ritzy part of London. There was a small gathering of witches and wizards in horribly gaudy robes gawking at him from the courtyard, to which he responded with an unpleasant sneer before disappearing behind a pillar. He glanced down at his pocket watch, growing slightly unnerved as he waited for some kind of company. Just in time, there were several small pops a few meters away where he hid and the rambunctious chortle that was the Weasley tribe echoed behind him.

"Oy! Snape!"

"Where do you see him, George?"

"I think it's him, right behind the pillar. I guess? He looks too well dressed to be—"

"George!"

"Severus, is that you?" came the foghorn whisper of Arthur Weasley. Inwardly groaning, Snape stepped out from his hidden place and fought a sneer at the perplexed expressions on their faces. Harry was the first to step forward and extended his hand.

"You look good, Snape. I was worried you weren't going to show," said Potter. They shook and the younger man laughed nervously. "Hermione would probably kill you if you did."

"I don't argue that."

The entire Weasley family, plus Harry and except Ginny and Hermione, were chattering animatedly, half blocking the entrance into the grand building. The few minutes they stayed loitering felt like ages, and Snape was sure he was going to turn tail and leave at any given moment. Things were too loud, too excited, and too crowded for his liking, and he mentally begged Hermione to appear sooner than later.

"Ah, there they are," said George as he curved his head around his daughter's form in his arms. He let out a low whistle—as did his wife—and the whole family softened into mutters.

Snape stilled at the sight of her as she rounded the corner with Ginny Weasley, and he felt the jolting skip of his heart beat, his breath caught in his throat. Hermione's curls were drawn back in a loose chignon, a few strays framing her heart shaped face and smokey eyes. Her dress was as dark as night, molding to every curve and dip of her body before flaring to a delicate mermaid bottom; sheer designs were cut out in the material at her hips and arms, and the bateau neckline was trimmed with small jewels.

She was enthralling, to say the least, and a little wicked if Severus were to admit. He felt an instant frustration in his groin that only worsened when she offered him a lazy, ruby lipped smile.

"Snape," she drawled, popping her lips.

"Miss Granger," he said. His voice was deep and even as he offered his arm to her, which she accepted. Their eyes were fixated on the other, lost to everyone but themselves, so much that Ginny had to clear her throat to pull them to reality.

"Well, I sure remember when someone use to look at me like that," she teased with a large grin on her face. Her husband elbowed her in the side, causing her to giggle. She offered her old potions master a wink before waddling towards the reception with the rest of her family.

"Did you see them!" they could hear Harry whine slightly to his fiery wife. Snape rolled his eyes as he guided his date (Bloody hell, date?!) to follow the rest.

When they entered the venue, they were met by an array of multicolored flowers entwined around high columns and arching between them, a light aroma welcoming them. The hall was oval shaped with burgundy covered tables curving around the ballroom floor and ending at a raised podium; off center from it, closer to the dance floor, was an enchanted orchestra and grand piano playing a soft melody, completely unmanned. It was beautiful, no doubt, but still felt entirely wrong given the anniversary.

In the distance, Hermione could see Luna Lovegood conversing with Neville and his date Hannah, both of whom looked only half interested in her words as the airy blond waved a hand at the flowers above. Hermione laughed to herself as she imagined what otherworldly creature Luna could be telling them about.

"Find something amusing, Miss Granger?" came the low drawl of Severus Snape.

"Oh, nothing."

Severus led her to the table where the Potters and Weasley's sat which wasn't very far from the platform and offered her a chair with a slight bow of his head. She glanced at him and had to admit the man cleaned up nicely despite the coercion she implemented to get him there in the first place. Hermione studied his features for a moment and was mildly jealous of how he seemed so comfortable at his first social event in almost a decade—although she didn't know how much of that comfort relied on her company. He raised an elegant brow at her- a wordless "what"- but she offered him just a smile. He said nothing but brushed a wild curl behind her ear with lithe fingers.

Ginny caught her eye at that moment and wore a genuinely surprised expression that quickly softened when Hermione frowned at her. Even in the dim light she could see the younger woman's eyes glisten as she squeezed Harry's hand slightly. He was busy passionately talking to Neville and the girls who had joined them to pay any real mind. Ginny nodded at Hermione, giving her a small, knowing smile that made her heart thump.

Although the wordless exchange was subtle, Hermione knew how meaningful it actually was. It was a solitary act of their friendship and sisterhood; it was Ginny blessing her for her future endeavors.

And it terrified Hermione.

With no intention to dwell, Hermione averted her eyes around the venue, nodding politely at acquaintances who recognized her from prior banquets and staring boldly at those who she knew were no fans. She caught sight of an utterly tacky green dress that was worn by none other than Rita Skeeter and her lip curled in disgust; an involuntary grumble escaped her as she watched the hyena-like woman saunter around the Remembrance Altar.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" came Snape's soothing voice and breath against her ear. When she turned, she realized he moved closer to her and their faces almost touched. "You are nearly breaking skin."

He gestured to her tightly clenched hands and her nails digging in, leaving crescent shaped imprints on her knuckles. She stopped immediately and waved her hand nonchalantly.

"I'm fine," she said, a little too quickly. He shot her a disapproving look and she sighed. "Rita Skeeter is here. I don't know why I'm surprised though, she's here every year."
"One would think she would be fired already given her tactless and distasteful history in journalism," he commented, earning himself a grin from the girl.

It became a full house and what once was a low murmur of guests quickly turned to boisterous chatter until the candles dimmed and a spotlight appeared at the podium. Kingsley Shacklebolt ascended, dressed in amethyst colored robes, and cleared his throat.

"Today marks ten years that the wizarding world has been free from Voldemort's tyranny—but it is also ten years since we have been without some of the greatest witches and wizards of our time. We are not free of the pain and loss inflicted upon our families. But through the pain, there is light. There will always be light. This year will be the last Victory Banquet the Ministry of Magic will host, and I implore you to reflect on the errors and crimes inflicted by wizardkind, but, most of all, I implore you to be brave. Be brave enough to stand up to injustices and prejudices you see day to day still; be brave to commit to what you believe in; be brave to live the life your loved one's would have wanted you to."

It was the briefest speech Kingsley had ever given at a Victory Banquet but it commanded so much respect; the audience of hundreds exploded into claps, and his words weighed heavy on their minds. The Potter and Weasley tables were a little less jubilant and it was evident in their eyes that their pasts began haunting them with heartbreak. Hermione and Severus exchanged looks, and he was surprised when her hand found his under the table. Such small and soft hands laid atop his, slightly trembling until he brought his other upon it; it was a simple gesture. It was a sign of unity.

As dinner was being prepared, the enchanted orchestra began its fanfare while the chatter immediately commenced. Hermione stood suddenly and lightly tugged Snape's hand, ushering him with her.

"Come," was all she said. He obeyed and followed her towards the podium, then veered for the Remembrance Altar.

Upon the altar were enchanted pictures of dozens of people, surrounded by countless vases of flowers and offered galleons here and there. There was a photo of Remus and Tonks on their informal wedding day, her hair quickly changing from pink to red and back out of clear excitement; Sirius Black was in the frame beside them, though much younger and tattoo-less, and offered a wink up at them. Snape recognized more than half of the photos laid on the table, for they were mostly former students of his, ripped from their prime by a war not meant for them. He tore his eyes from the uncanny photo of Albus Dumbledore wearing an atrocious hat, when Hermione spoke.

"Harry wanted to include them, and of course no one would deny him that," said Hermione as her fingers fell on a oval frame. Snape peered from behind and froze.

Staring up at him were newlywed James and Lily Potter, small eyed from laughter, with baby Harry gaggling in their arms. Snape didn't speak for a long moment as he brought the frame up to look closer; he ran a gentle fingers over the glass and watched the image start over time and time again. He never saw this photo of them—Gods, Lily looked so happy; they both did. Snape caught the young witch's eye from over the frame and she graced him with a genuine smile that softened this moment further for him.

"I figured you would like that," said Hermione as she peered over. "They look so happy, and Harry was so small. I wish I could have met them…I wish they were still here, for Harry."

"As do I. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about the mistakes I've made," said Snape. He placed the frame back atop the altar. "Or the repercussions."

They were quiet for a moment, their eyes gazing over the emotional display before them and unaware of the growing line behind them of partygoers wishing to pay their respects.

"I want to be a better man," Snape suddenly admitted. He turned to the woman beside him, whose formerly cold eyes have been nothing short of warm towards him for so long now, and softly touched her perfect cheeks. Her lips parted and that blush he loved glowed across her chest; her eyes glanced around quickly, feeling a little self conscious about the sudden display of affection. "I never want that path for myself again. I never want to be the cause of so much suffering, ever again. I robbed so many people of their future."

"I'd say you're on a pretty decent path, even though you still are so surly," said Hermione with an airy laugh.

"I can't promise that will change," he said with a smirk, allowing his hand to fall finally. He ignored the curious looks and muttering from behind him as they made their way to their seats again, still admiring the woman before him. In the short time they've lived together, he has watched her rise and fall with both the grace and insanity of a wayward goddess, emerging from the ashes like a rogue Phoenix. She had tested every nerve and made him question every fiber of his existence. And throughout all of the turbulence, Hermione had been the one constant: from taking the Unbreakable Vow for him to her unyielding support at the Wizengamot, and he found himself completely undeserving. "I honestly cannot begin to thank you enough, Miss Granger."

Hermione let out contagious laughter. "'Miss Granger?'; such formalities again, Severus."

"Hermione," he corrected, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. She shot him a smirk. "I was saying—"

"Miney! Miney!" came the shrill voice of tiny Master Malfoy as he bound between his cousins Victoire and Teddy towards Hermione. He came to a quick halt when he saw Snape brooding over his favorite Auntie. Linking his small, chubby arms behind his back and glancing up at the two from under his brow, Scorpius sniffled. "Hullo, Unca' Snape."

Hermione's brows shot so high and she broke into a hiss of laughter at the sight of Snape's mortified face. Scorpius perked up, eyes darting between the two, and began giggling himself as he fed off Hermione. He came close and wiggled his fingers up at the young witch.

"Miney, dance with me!" Scorpius demanded, jumping slightly. Hermione dipped and scooped up the boy and cast Snape a devious look before carrying her dance partner to the floor. Draco appeared from the other side with a glass of whatever, and sulked beside Snape.

"I'm convinced my son loves Hermione more than he loves his own mother," said Draco with a grin. They watched on as the other children joined Hermione, getting spun around and giggling along the way. Hermione's face was positively beaming as she entertained the small humans, even when Scorpius pouted from lack of attention.

"Where is Astoria?"

"Sick at home. She says hello." Draco examined his former professor closely for a moment. "You seem…different, Snape. There's this—" Draco wagged his fingers at him with a mock scowl, —"glow about you. It's pretty unusual."

"You are insufferable, Draco," sneered Snape, crossing his arms. His eyes followed Hermione everywhere she went on the ballroom floor.

"No, she is insufferable," retorted Draco, scoffing. "She made me come. I mean, she even had Astoria on her side. She said 'it'd be good for Snape' and…"

Draco narrowed his eyes at Snape again.

"Well, fuck, I guess she is the reason you're—"

"If you say the word glow one more time, Draco, you won't be able to say any words ever again," warned Snape. Draco snorted with a shake of his head, glancing over at the floor as Scorpius began having one of his notorious meltdowns. Hermione quickly stopped her lap around with Kingsley and ushered the young Malfoy through the growing crowd of dancers towards his father. Draco's expression softened.

"I guess I can understand why," he murmured, swallowing the rest of his drink before scooping his son up. Hermione gave Draco a quick peck on the cheek and rubbed the toddler's chin; Malfoy Sr tossed his head back at the dark man. "Take him with you, would you? He's scaring the other guests standing there like that."

Draco was gone before Snape could retaliate but not before spinning around to look at him from the distance, wagging his brows suggestively as he sat to greet the Potter-Weasleys. Severus looked at Hermione, considering her for a moment, before granting her a respectable bow.

"It would honor me to have this dance, Miss Granger, if you'd allow me," he said silkily. Hermione's eyes lit with mirth as she curtsied in return, shooting him a challenging look through her thick lashes that stirred something hot within the dark man. She laid a well manicured hand into his own and allowed Snape to guide her; his hands rested carefully on her lower back and waited a beat before leading her perfectly. Hermione felt like she was gliding—he was a perfect dancer, and the question lit in her eyes before her lips caught it.

"Well, I was friends with Lucius Malfoy," explained Severus before she spoke.

"You never cease to surprise me, Master Snape," purred Hermione. Snape raised a brow and made a face of approval.

"You flatter me," he said. His eyes casually bounced around, and he pulled her closer, dipping his head to her ear. "We have stirred quite the audience."

"I know, I've been trying to ignore them," said Hermione through smiling teeth. A flash of a few cameras lit beside her, and she just knew Rita Skeeter was one of them. She inwardly groaned at the thought of what would be on the front page of the prophet tomorrow. The song switched to something slower and Snape followed suit; they were quiet for a while, but it was comfortable. Snape knew there was so much to say, and he was sure the young witch had felt the same. He had caught her countless times staring at him from behind her coffee mug or daily book, words tickling her tongue but not enough to break her silence.

"So, I have a confession to make," said Hermione as she chewed her bottom lip. Snape raised a brow, only half listening as his eyes caught the extra Auror security that developed around the entrances. In the distance he could see the well-tailored Benjamin Yew seemingly ream into a few new additions to the force. "I may have led you here under false pretenses."

Not surprising. "Oh? Was it to avoid the harassment of that American? Because, you know, he is rather resilient."

"Well, that was a perk, but I was wondering…"

The tune changed again, and it was unusual; the string instruments were grimy and coarse, the flat melody echoing out like a tale of struggle. Snape glanced down and frowned at Hermione when her words fell off but felt an immediate sense of anxiety when her face reflected little emotion.

"Hermione?"

She stopped dancing then, causing Snape to stagger a bit and nearly knocking the other dancers from their depressing rhythm. Hermione untangled her hands from his, drifting a little as if unsure, before walking toward the enchanted orchestra. Severus was so caught off guard all he could do was watch her go while hesitantly following behind. Hermione drew close to the piano that rung out the haunting yet familiar tune. Where could have Snape possibly heard this from? It was right there, in his mind's eye, and he flashed through his mental catalogue in desperation.

It then struck him, and he felt all the air suck out from his lungs in a way similar to Nagini's vicious attack. His mind's eye abruptly stopped at the memory Hermione allowed him to see in the Pensive—the memory from her nights in captivity.

Snape whipped out his wand and barreled through the crowd of dancers, stirring them into a frenzy. He caught sight of Hermione right before the grand piano.

"Hermione!"

His voice was frantic and called the attention of all the partygoers, but he was too late. Hermione turned to him slightly, her face impassive and eyes vacant of someone cursed, and touched a single key. The piano and Hermione blurred and spun as one, a homunculi of object and human, before disappearing from the orchestra and leaving no trace of their existence behind.

A/N: I felt too excited to leave the last chapter as a single update, so I figured I could surprise you guys with this twist! I had this chapter ironed out since I first started writing. It's just something I needed to have in the story. The next few chapters will be lengthy, heavy, and full of question. Thanks for all the love!