Author's Note: Okay, I've been getting a lot of corrections regarding Snape's past, and have decided to confront you all at once. I've made changes for the purpose of this story. I thought that would be clear, but apparently not. So now you know. Enjoy!

Hermione traced the planes of his bare, muscular chest lightly, carefully avoiding the scars that marred it. She would trace down to his stomach, which was now a dark gray in color, and then start all over.

It was very relaxing to Severus, though also very frustrating, because how could he focus on his self-hatred if he were relaxed? I don't deserve relaxation, he thought numbly, not ever again. The pain in his stomach had ebbed away somewhat in light of the most recent occurrence, leaving only a biting nausea in its wake. Nausea he could deal with. I, in fact, deserve a great deal worse pain than nausea. Merlin knows that would only be fair. Nausea seems like a minute price to pay…

Hermione spoke, distracting him from his pitiful self-loathing, a break which he both welcomed and frowned upon.

"What happened? At the meeting?"

Severus sighed, tightening his grasp on her hand and running his thumb over hers lightly. "I was discovered as a spy."

"Oh, really? Because I thought the whole "near-death experience" thing was just some new trust exercise," she scoffed, though it was done good-naturedly.

Severus wished that her sarcasm was aimed to hurt. He could handle anger. It was this easy forgiveness he was having trouble with.

"What I meant was how did Voldemort find out?"

Severus unconsciously pulled her closer protectively as he replayed the memory in his mind. "The Dark Lord found out about the…pregnancy," he said, stumbling over the last—the current predicament was putting quite a strain on him.

"He was planning on an attack at Hogwarts, which would have bought us an immense amount of time, until Luscius took it upon himself to single-handedly ruin everything." He spoke with so much bitterness now that Hermione wondered who he actually hated more at this point: Malfoy, or Voldemort.

"He told the Dark Lord of your absence, and eventually of mine, and you can see how my façade unraveled from there."

Hermione was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke again, all hints of humor had disappeared from her voice. "I'm sorry…"

This time it was confusion that pulled Severus out of his self-loathing.

"Sorry? Whatever do you have to be sorry about?" he asked incredulously.

"I know how important your position was. I know how useful it had been. I know how hard you worked to sustain it, and I can only guess the severity of what is to come. You held a position for over seventeen years that lead us right to the den of our very worst enemy. Then I come along and ruin it, almost getting you killed in the process. From now on, I'll be somewhat responsible for the casualties of this war. There's a load to be sorry for." The last bit came in a harsh whisper, and he could sense that she was now fighting the same internal battle as he.

Severus sat there, stunned, for the better part of four minutes. His advanced mind simply could not wrap around her pronouncement, and when it did, it immediately started to dispute it.

He turned to her, letting the arm that was around her trail to the small of her back. She sat, staring determinedly ahead, for she knew he would argue with her, tell her that she was wrong, tell her things she knew weren't true. So she held it off by refusing to look at him.

Gently, so as not to jostle her already fragile condition, he grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. Reluctantly, she raised her chocolate brown, sorrowful eyes to his face and he immediately detected the sheen of loosely restrained tears.

"Hermione," he began, "you must know how wrong you are. Nothing could be further from the truth! You have absolutely no fault in the losses that are to come—"

"Oh, come on Severus!" she exclaimed, exasperation fighting sorrow. "Tell me: how many lives do you predict will be lost, due only to the unearthing of your treachery? How many lives could you and Dumbledore have saved if you'd just let me fend for my own? Or even handed me over, point-blank? Surely my life isn't worth hundreds of others."

He grasped her face. "It is to me, Hermione! Your life is worth anything to me! You think I don't know the consequences? You think I don't know that I've endangered more lives to save the one most close to my heart? In retrospect, it's an entirely selfish act on my part because I would rather see thousands, millions die than to see your life end!"

He finished his speech with a bout of heavy breathing and a calming hand placed on his now upset stomach. Her breathing, on the other hand, had hitched and to say she looked shocked would have been a gross understatement.

"You…you mean that? What I mean is…you care that much?" she sounded as though it was inconceivable; as if she was sure it was a figment of her imagination.

He leaned his face into hers and brushed her lips with his. "Yes, I care that much. I care ten times more than that. I care so much that you'd mock me if I expressed it," he whispered, lips curved into a slight smile against hers. "Hermione…I love you."

He said the phrase with so much passion, so much depth that it was as if it was an entirely new phrase than the one she'd heard uttered a thousand times before—by her parents, by actors in movies, by old friends remembering good times…all of it was wiped away and in that moment, his whispered "I love you" sounded more like a Godly song.

In a moment, her lips were latched onto his, her rounded belly pressed into his toned one as they leaned into a lying position on the couch. The nausea he'd felt moments ago was numbed by the ecstasy of her response, and her weight on him was no more painful than that of a feather—he was sure he could lay there forever and not object once. Soon, they were both so engrossed in the kiss that a war could have raged around them without their knowledge, and they didn't stop until Severus felt a tiny, fluttering nudge against his stomach.

He gasped. "Hermione…was that…?"

Hermione stared down in wonder before glancing up at him, a heartily missed joy lighting her eyes in a way that sparked a fire within him. "It's okay," she marveled. "The baby's okay!"

In a rekindled passion, their lips joined again in a kiss so intense it left them both breathless.

"Severus," Hermione whispered when they came up for air.

"Yes, my dear?" He looked into her sparkling chocolate eyes and couldn't help but smile.

She returned it with gusto. "I love you, too."