Chapter 36

The wizard that Hermione had believed lost to her forever was laying sated on the pillow next to hers, a healthy pink glow to his usual pallor from the exertions of their lovemaking. Severus Snape was flat on his back, his rapid breathing gradually slowing as he recovered, and his face turned to hers, searching her own with his coal-black eyes.

"How can you be here?" he said, quietly, reaching out a hand to rest lightly atop her stomach.

"I think it is far more unlikely that you are here," she replied, stroking her fingers across the scars on his neck.

"I do not mean that. I mean, why are you here with me? Why me, Hermione?"

She rolled onto her side and edged towards him, slipping under the embrace of his arm and placing her palm on his bare chest, looking at him with her honest brown eyes.

"Why not you?" she replied, and snuggled down, laying her head next to her own hand and listening to the reassuring beat of his very-much-alive heart.

"Why not me," he repeated. "Why not me, indeed. How curious."

"It's not really that curious at all, when you think about it. All that time we spent alone together, at Professor Dumbledore's request, the things you taught me I would never have learned anywhere else. Those times were amazing. My own private tutorials."

"Are you saying I bewitched your mind?" he teased.

Hermione smiled against his chest, and he felt it, unable to halt the smirk now heading to his own face.

"And ensnared all my senses. Especially after we started … you know."

"I indeed do know."

He hugged her to him, and tightly, dropping a kiss to her slightly sweaty forehead.

"This is nice, Severus. Just laying here like this. No pressure of time, no one knows we are here. Well, apart from Eileen, but since she set this meeting up, I'm presuming she approves."

"My mother likes you very much. She didn't necessarily approve of my actions that year, when we were conducting a covert relationship, but you were always one of her favourite students."

"I like the library. I love to read, and I love books."

"My mother does too. She has made the Hogwarts' library her life's work, these last twenty years hence, as well as keeping her beady eye on me, of course."

Silence fell over them again, Hermione closed her eyes in contentment but did not sleep. Severus trailed his fingers over the soft skin of her naked back, enjoying the feel of her hair as it occasionally tickled his forearm as he moved.

The sun was dipping now, creating a streaky orange sunset heading towards the horizon, and it was a warm evening of late summer, the room was still warm. He levitated over a fresh sheet from the linen cupboard and draped it over their bodies, the light cotton just enough for their needs as they rested and relaxed, enjoying the simple pleasure of just being together.

"You must be hungry. Can I provide you with supper?" he asked her, a long while later, when they must have both dozed off several times.

Hermione sat up, holding the sheet to her chest.

"Hmm, not really, but I do need to make sure I eat. No doubt once I see the food I will find my appetite."

"Stay here. I will bring everything upstairs. This is my mother's cottage, I have no desire to feel like a teenaged boy sneaking around his mother's house with a witch. I find myself reluctant to allow you to leave this room, in truth."

His expression was slightly sheepish, but rather attractive, she thought, as he rolled himself out of the bed and pulled on his undershorts and the black t-shirt he'd been wearing previously. Hermione settled herself back against the pillows to indicate that she wasn't going anywhere. Appearing satisfied, he nodded once and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

-xxx-

Hermione awoke from her doze as he re-entered the room, two trays levitated before him, both being held steady by his wand, in an almost nonchalant manner, so confident was he in his own magical capabilities. She crossed her legs, and he set the larger tray down on the bed, it was spread with fat sandwiches, a bowl of salad, two apples and two individual-sized chocolate cakes.

Really wanting the cake, but thinking she ought to at least attempt to ingest something healthy for the baby first, she picked up a cheese sandwich and took a grateful bite. Severus had put the smaller tray on top of the long cabinet underneath the window, and was pouring tea. Passing her a cup, he sat carefully down on the bed opposite her, his back against the footboard with the tray in between them.

"Nice work," she commented.

"I have my uses," he replied, a small smile touching his lips as he selected a sandwich for himself.

"To whom does the wand belong?" she asked.

"It is an unregistered spare. I have been in possession of it for many years, and always carried it secreted on my person, for just such a situation as this, really. A situation where I cannot use my own."

"The two broken pieces of your wand were buried in the Hogwarts grounds," she told him, "I saw it happen, at your … your memorial service."

"I heard. That wand is now lost to me."

"Will you get another?"

"Now that is the biggest question of all, for it leads directly to the dilemma of what I should do now. To purchase a wand, I will need to visit a wand shop, where it will be registered to my magical signature. This will of course alert the Ministry to the fact that I am still alive."

"The Ministry are supportive of you. Harry and Kingsley ensured that you were cleared of all charges."

"That was very easy for Shacklebolt to do, since he was passing judgement upon a dead wizard. I wonder if the situation would be different had I still been alive. My mother has the Daily Prophet delivered here every morning, and I am aware of the current tide of bad feeling against me. If it were known that I was alive, I believe that there would be many who would campaign for me to be justly punished for my war crimes."

"So, you'll just stay here?"

"Believe me, Hermione, that is not an option. I believe you once heard me castigate Sirius Black for hiding in Grimmauld Place, whiling away the war in safety? I meant every word. I will not hide away indefinitely, I would rather face whatever is out there waiting for me, than fester and stagnate whilst hiding behind my mother's skirts."

She moved from sandwiches on to the apple, chewing deliberately slowly so that her mouth was occupied, allowing him to talk, to give voice to his thoughts and feelings. He had been alone here for so long, since the end of the war, with only Eileen for company when she was not working up at the castle.

"I shall not deny that the peace and quiet this cottage has offered whilst I recovered from my injuries has been a blessing. It has allowed me to convalesce, to regain my strength, to heal my wounds. But now I am strong. I need to plan for my future, which I find most odd, since I never believed I would have one."

"You have me, and our daughter. And Eileen."

"I am rich, indeed," he answered, sincerely. "More so than I ever believed possible. If you are sure that I am what you desire, I would be a fool to ponder the ramifications too deeply."

"Don't ponder, then. I turn nineteen in little over three weeks. I am well of age, and in voluntary, not compulsory, education. I am having our baby. Part of me wonders if we should bond, but I would prefer that when we bond, that it will be an action of love and desire, rather than something we think we ought to do just because I am pregnant."

"I understand that completely, Hermione. Our relationship, and I still feel strange calling it thus, is still new, despite all that has passed between us over the last two years. Suffice to say that my offer to bond remains very much active, when and if you desire to do so."

"No."

"No?"

"No, Severus. Don't leave the offer 'on the table', so to speak. Ask me again, properly, when you truly desire to bond with me, and when you feel the time to be right."

"I think you are grossly overestimating my capabilities both as a suitor, and as a reader of feminine subtleties."

She laughed out loud at his assessment of himself.

"Not at all. I have the greatest of faith in your abilities … Professor."

"You cheeky bloody wench."

"I would show you just how cheeky I can be, if I didn't have a deep longing to eat that gorgeous-looking cake."

Hermione picked up the chocolate cake and took a huge, unapologetic bite, chewing it carefully with mischief in her eyes. Severus leaned back on the footboard of the bed, cup of tea in hand, regarding the achingly-young witch who was inexplicably carrying his child.

"I have the greatest of pleasure in being in love with you, Miss Granger."

He raised what he hoped was a sexy eyebrow, and lifted his teacup to his mouth, taking an elegant sip of his brew, as a rather taken-aback Miss Granger appeared to choke on her cake.

-xxx-

Much later, when night had fallen and the room was in darkness, lit by candles and with the curtains closed, Hermione was seated between his legs as Severus leaned back on the headboard, supported by a pile of pillows as he blissfully massaged her tired neck and shoulders.

She had secured her mane of hair in a messy bun on top of her head so that it did not impede the attentions he was lavishing upon her. She groaned in pleasure every time he found a particularly tough knot, or swept his skilful hands across her shoulders.

"Hermione, could you please not make sexual noises whilst I am massaging you? It is rather distracting," he complained, teasingly, proving his point by poking his semi-hard erection in the small of her back.

"I can't help it. It's so good."

"I hope you will have no objection to me making love to you again afterwards?"

"Of course not."

"Then I shall simply put up with the noises, knowing that they bear the promise of future fruit."

"You are so funny, Severus."

He was surprised. Funny? Him? How very odd. He continued to massage her, as it was the least he could do, considering she was the one who was carrying the child for them both. Her small body must be exhausted.

"Would you come back to Hogwarts? I'm sure they would have you, since you have been exonerated," she asked, suddenly.

"That was an unexpected question. Is that where your mind has wandered to? My answer is; however, I do not know. It is one option, I suppose. Although I am not sure how appropriate it would be to teach in a school where one of the students is pregnant by me."

Hermione leaned back against him, effectively stopping his massage, and drawing his arms around her.

"I'm not going to tell anyone who her father is. It is no one's business. I don't want anyone speculating that you abused your position and took advantage of me as a student. If anything, I defiled you."

"Anyone investigating would not see it that way, Granger. I was the adult, the professor, and therefore bear the responsibility. Additionally, I regret to tell you, that there are spells available to establish paternity upon an infant."

"Only if I allow them to cast it. Which I won't."

"That will only hold water for so long, my angel. What about as the child grows? People will be constantly casting aspersions as to her parentage."

She paused, the wind taken out of her sails and realising just how very complex the situation was. Severus pulled her back against his chest, brushing his lips against her cheek, gently kissing her, as he stroked her forearms.

"I need to complete my NEWTs. Let's take it from there?"

"I agree. I shall give thought to making contact with Minerva regarding the possibility of teaching again. It may even be less irritating without both Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle controlling my every move. I may even enjoy it. If, as it seems, that I am indeed exonerated of war crimes, then I have nothing to lose by revealing myself. I am sure there will be some opposition, but I have lived my whole life being despised, this will be no different."

"That sounds like a plan," she replied, guiding his hands to her breasts, and showing him how to fondle them gently and carefully, so as not to cause her discomfort in their somewhat swollen state.

Hermione felt his erection twitch against her, and knew she had successfully distracted him. She closed her eyes and allowed him to explore her body, feeling her stomach clench as his hands moved lower.

Severus pulled her legs apart and settled them on his thighs, eagerly seeking her secret place that she concealed within them. He opened her lips, stretching one searching finger between them to find her clit already swelling from his ministrations to her breasts.

Clamping his open mouth to her neck and shoulders, nipping at the sensitive cords that pulsed there, he used both hands to flicker against her clitoris in a ceaseless rhythm, no penetration, just tickling, teasing, agitating the little bud to give her the sensation she craved.

"Can you come for me, my angel?" he drawled, low and deep against her ear.

"Yes … yes, I will, Severus … oh …"

Loving the sound of his name from her lips, he sped up the movement of his fingers so that he was gliding in rapid circles on the very tip of her clit, feeling her thrust her hips upwards involuntarily to meet his touch.

"Oh, you are, aren't you? You are going to come. Let me have it."

"I am … I will…"

Her hips went rigid in the upward thrust position, and he frantically frigged against her clitoris, rubbing it faster and faster in her silky fluid until she burst, her cunt spasming and her breathless panting sounding like sweet music to his ears.

"Good girl … such a good girl, Hermione," he crooned, running his hand over her pussy and finding it soaked in her juices.

"I need to fuck you, little witch. Now."

She shifted forwards, and they changed positions, quite awkwardly, but neither cared – after all, who was watching? Hermione settled on her back with Severus above her, his long hair hanging down either side of his face. He used his hand to help insert his cock inside her, and the familiar feel of him made her want to weep.

Snape's black eyes were alight with intensity as he stroked in and out, never leaving her face, always ensuring her comfort, her pleasure. It was only when he approached his orgasm that he became rough, his expression transcendent, his last vestiges of that tight control gone. The sight of his complete abandon was utterly arousing to her, it always had been, ever since they had made love for the first time. This controlled, private, taciturn wizard letting everything go, for her eyes only. No other soul on earth knew what Severus was truly like.

As he slept in her arms, his breathing heavy and his snores light, showing him to be in a state of deep slumber, Hermione thought of the tentative plans they had made. Somehow, they would make it work. They would be a formidable team.

She did not yet know, but with the arrival of the morning post, all their dreams would come crashing down.

SEVERUS SNAPE – SAINT OR SINNER? By Rita Skeeter

"The Prophet can exclusively report today that interim Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt has finally bowed to public pressure and is overturning his post-humous exoneration of the Death Eater, Severus Snape.

According to reliable sources, new evidence has come to light that the 'Tragic Anti-Hero' may not be as blameless as Harry Potter, the self-styled 'Chosen One', has attempted to portray him.

Tales of Snape's vicious activities and perverted proclivities amongst the heinous organisation known as the Death Eaters are prolific inside the walls of Azkaban prison, which houses dozens of those convicted after the war, all of whom are said to be furious at the former Headmaster escaping 'scot-free'. The fact that Severus Snape was killed by Voldemort himself during the Battle of Hogwarts has not seemed to allay their desire to see his status as a war hero revoked.

Minister Shacklebolt has no choice but to investigate the new allegations, and the outcome will be crucial at a time when his time in the top spot, always intended to be temporary, is under scrutiny, with many calling for a formal election now that the war is fast becoming a distant memory.

We will bring you more news as it arrives here."

"Fast becoming a distant memory?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"That woman can go and fuck herself," Severus replied, angrily throwing the paper down in the middle of the bed.

-xxx-

The Welcome Feast was its very own special kind of awful.

Every house had sustained losses, whether from deaths, or students not returning, although the tables seemed as full as usual, given that there was part of an extra year present, her own.

From Gryffindor, only herself, Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas had returned. Dean had missed the whole of his seventh year, on the run from Snatchers for the crime of simply being Muggle-born, or otherwise unable to prove his magical heritage. He was keen to catch up on the work he had missed, for his career plan was to train under an apothecary and open his own business.

Neville had returned to focus on Herbology, and he would be beginning an apprenticeship under Professor Sprout whilst studying for and taking his other NEWTs.

Harry, Ron and Seamus had all taken the offer of the complimentary exam results, as had, surprisingly, Parvati Patil. Hermione suspected that her parents had not allowed her to return, as a quick glance at the Ravenclaw table showed her twin, Padma, to be absent also.

The final Gryffindor of their cohort, Lavender Brown, was still in St Mungo's, recovering from her horrendous injuries that had been sustained during the attack by Fenrir Greyback. Hermione had never particularly liked Lavender, but she wished her no ill, and had sent her best wishes earlier in the summer with Harry for speedy healing.

Out of habit, Hermione had seated herself next to Ginny Weasley, now a seventh-year herself, and had been shocked by the disdainful look the redhead had given her as she sat down. Ginny had shot a look to her stomach and back up again, given her a rictus smirk of a greeting, and then turned back to her own friends. Hermione could not hear what they were saying, for they were whispering so low.

Thank Merlin for Dean and Neville, who sat opposite her and conversed as normal, although they both admitted it was rather strange for only the three of them to be here, and felt the loss of their absent friends keenly.

Hermione had made some subtle magical adjustments to her school uniform to accommodate her small bump. More would need to be made as she grew larger, but her alterations would suffice for now. If she swished her robes around herself she looked no different from usual.

After the Sorting, as Professor McGonagall gave her first welcome speech as headmistress, there was an undercurrent of sadness and regret in the air. She'd glossed over Severus' tenure, opting instead to remember Professor Dumbledore and all that he'd stood for, echoing his ideals in her own words, before warning students they were unlikely to find her as tolerant as he. There was a small ripple of nervous laughter.

At the end of the speech, the new Headmistress McGonagall dismissed them all to bed, and Hermione tried to catch up with Ginny before she headed up to Gryffindor Tower. Taking a light hold of her elbow in the entrance hall to attract her attention, she was shocked when Ginny yanked her arm away as if Hermione had burned her.

"Gin?"

"What do you want? We've been sent to our common rooms, if you didn't hear McGonagall. Those of us who are still part of Gryffindor have, anyway," Ginny retorted, once again eyeing Hermione's practically-invisible bump.

"I'm still part of Gryffindor," Hermione protested, gesturing to her scarlet and gold tie, but it sounded feeble and desperate, even to her own ears.

"Well, you've a funny way of showing it."

"It wasn't my choice to be put in a separate room! McGonagall insisted upon it, due to my pregnancy."

"I wondered when that would come up. I don't know how you've got the nerve to walk around school, unmarried, with a big pregnant bump like that."

"Ginny? Why are you being like this?"

"I know, Hermione," Ginny accused.

"What do you think you know?"

"Harry and Ron told me everything."

Hermione felt an ice-cold shudder head down her spine, and it was a horrible sensation. Harry and Ron? But they didn't know anything … did they? Ginny was as sharp as her mother, and picked up on her unvoiced fear straight away.

"Malfoy Manor, you remember that? When my brother and my boyfriend risked their lives to save you? You insisted that your baby wasn't fathered by a Snatcher or a werewolf. Which leaves only one choice, Hermione. You didn't say the father wasn't a Death Eater."

"I honestly have no idea what you are talking about," Hermione replied, perplexed.

The entrance hall was starting to empty, now, Ginny's friends had headed off up to Gryffindor Tower, and there were only stragglers left exiting the Great Hall, making their own voices echo off the stone walls around them, seeming louder.

Ginny leaned closer, lowering the volume of her voice but keeping the spiteful venom.

"I'm talking about Draco Malfoy, Hermione. I know he was there at the Manor that day. He must have raped you."

"What?"

"Either that, or you fucked him willingly. Always fancied him, have you? That might be why you don't want to name and shame him."

"Ginny!"

"Guilt's written all over your face, Granger."

"Since when do you call me Granger?"

"Since you hurt my family. We are no longer friends."

"How have I hurt your family? I would never hurt them, I love your parents, I love all of you!"

"One little operation at St Mungo's, Hermione, and you could've got rid of that bastard you're carrying, moved on and had the relationship with Ronald that you always should have done. The only possible reason you've kept the kid is because the father means something to you. Either that, or he's stinking rich. That would certainly help, wouldn't it?"

That was the final straw. Before she even realised the good sense of her actions, Hermione had drawn her wand and sent a stinging hex into Ginny Weasley's face, the same one she had blasted Harry with, when they'd been trying to escape the Snatchers.

Ginny dropped to the floor, screaming, clutching her face as her features swelled and distorted.

"Hermione Granger! My office, immediately!"

It was Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff Head of House, exiting the Great Hall at exactly the right time to see Hermione cast the hex into Ginny's face.

Shit.

-xxx-

All things being equal, it had not been the most auspicious of starts to her repeat seventh year. Professor Sprout, despite her soft demeanour, had punished Hermione with a month of Saturday detentions in the greenhouses for a blatant attack on a fellow student, and sent Ginny to Madam Pomfrey.

When Hermione had pointed out the that stinging hex would wear off quickly of its own accord and that Ginny would suffer no ill-effects, Professor Sprout had been most unimpressed at her cheek, and added an extra week to the month of detentions.

She sat in the bathtub in her chambers, the sweet-smelling elixir she had added to the water doing nothing to calm her fury. What the hell had Ginny been talking about? So, they'd all been discussing her at the Burrow and come to the conclusion she'd either been raped by, or had willing sex with, Draco Malfoy, and was now hanging on to his baby because his family were rich or she had a secret crush on him? If it wasn't so serious it would be laughable. Did any of them really know her at all?

Hermione knew that they were hurting, Ron most of all, since he had wanted a relationship with her, but really, this behaviour was downright nasty. She would not be making excuses for them anymore. They were all coping with the aftermath of war in their own way, herself included. The Weasleys did not have a priority on suffering.

Sod them all. She would stay here and take her NEWTs, and then she would leave and take herself far away from all of them. She had more important things to worry about at present, such as her baby, and Severus.

He had been fuming over Rita Skeeter's article in the Prophet, denouncing the sources as incarcerated Death Eaters who were offering information about him in order to reduce their own sentences and shift blame from themselves.

However, the removal of his formal exoneration meant that he could not just 'reappear' and seek employment at Hogwarts. That plan had now been thrown out like an infestation of gnomes over a garden wall.

Severus was now trapped in his mother's cottage, unable to leave, because he refused to take himself away from her and their unborn daughter, and unable to stay, since the idea of remaining in solitary confinement, secreted away from the world, was abhorrent to him.

After she had dried herself, put on clean pyjamas and slipped into her bed, she hugged a pillow to herself in lieu of Severus, rubbing a consoling hand on her small bump, and trying to concentrate on the first day of lessons tomorrow. Her books, quills and required equipment for each class were all prepared and ready, ever the dutiful student.

Everything else? It was an absolute mess.