Chapter 16- Home
3 May 1998
Awareness slowly ebbed back into the echoing void of Hermione's mind, along with a growing litany of aches and pains. Her body felt oddly heavy, and there was a dry, coppery taste filling her mouth that only seemed to increase as her consciousness expanded. With an effort, she pried her eyes open and blinked against the sudden intrusion of blinding light.
Narrowing her eyes, she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. There was something recognisable about the play of sunshine coming from the tall window to her right and pattern of stone making up the walls. The faint scents of lilac and starch rounded out with the harsher tang of menthol likewise prompted a reassuring familiarity. With a rush, memories clicked back into place and understanding dawned; somehow, she was no longer on the wild moorlands of Scotland, but safe in the Hogwarts Infirmary.
Then there was a whisper of sound at her side, and Severus' pale, pinched face filled her vision.
"Whaaaaa happened?" she slurred, tongue non-responsive.
"Everyone but the engineer made it," he reassured her in a raspy rumble, perching on the side of the bed to loom over her with obvious concern. It was an unfortunate look, what with his infamous billowing black robes firmly in place and his rather distinctive visage made all the more prominent by the strange viewing angle. He looks like a constipated vulture, she mused, hearing an off-kilter giggle in the distance. Belatedly, she realised that the sound had come from her.
Mustering her tongue for another go, she asked, "I didnna't say that out loud, did I?"
His eyebrow went up. "Say what?"
"Nothin'." Hermione smiled beatifically. "I'm high."
A ghost of a smirk appeared. "Very high, and likely to stay that way for some time to come if Madam Pomfrey has anything to say about it."
"Excellent." Needing to touch Severus, Hermione fumbled her hand from under the covers and placed it on his leg. He winced as she found a limb that was clearly covered in bandages.
"Whaaa happened?" she exclaimed again, a surge of adrenaline abruptly bringing about more clarity.
Wrapping warm fingers around her hand, Severus grimaced slightly as she continued to locate other injuries further down his leg. "Do you remember what happened on our way home?"
"Mmmhmm. We were on the Express, and then there was, you know, an attach... attack… You took the students away. I stayed behind..."
Seeing that she did at least remember the general confluence of events, he answered her primary question. "I splinched myself during the return to the crash site. Other than that and some bruising, I'm fine. You, however, have been asleep for almost twenty hours thanks to a concussion, some lovely contusions of your own, and a rather extreme level of magical depletion. Madam Pomfrey thinks that it will take about a week for the worst of the concussion to fade and your magic to rebound to normal levels."
"Ahhhhhh." The adrenaline that had accompanied her awakening was quickly receding. Hermione knew that she had other important questions to ask, but her thoughts had started to dim. "You look… tired."
"I am."
Indeed, he looked far more than tired; Severus appeared exhausted, with blood-shot eyes and a sickly grey pallor that worried her. Remembering his penchant for staying awake to better watch over her, Hermione asked, "Have you slept?"
"No." He paused, glancing down to their intertwined hands. "I couldn't."
With an effort, Hermione shifted over and patted the mattress. "Now you can."
"Hermione…"
"It will wait. Come here."
Severus sighed but shifted about readily enough, tucking himself next to her on the narrow hospital bed. Wrapping a possessive arm around his waist, Hermione snuggled close, a feeling of contentment washing over her at his proximity.
"Love you," she mumbled, eyes closing.
"I love you, too." A gentle hand began stroking her curls, and she fell back asleep.
When Hermione woke for a second time, it was to a room filled by the golden hues of sunset rather than the harsh brightness of mid-day. Severus was snoring next to her with the laborious effort of the truly knackered, looking only marginally better than before. Rough black stubble littered his jaw and his expression was still pinched into dour lines despite unconsciousness.
That he was quite battered and rather smelly hardly mattered; her heart swelled with gratitude for their survival, and Hermione found herself blinking back tears as the frantic last moments of their time on the Express flooded back. It had been such a picture-perfect day in the Highlands as she'd shot out of the compartment, the hills blooming with variegated shades of spring gorse and heather. But the jarring, horrifying sight of the engine being consumed by a raging inferno of fire had shattered all pretence of beauty, as had the volley of spells shot at her as she'd raced away from the Express.
We came so close to losing all of this, Hermione acknowledged, once more grappling with the fragility and capriciousness of life. Just one little change along the way, and this could have ended far differently… hell, one little change months ago could have resulted in Severus and I not even becoming friends, never mind lovers!
Given how much her emotional wellbeing was centred around Severus, it was an utterly devastating notion. Hermione had to take a deep breath to ward off her rising sense of panic. Things had worked out, and they were safe; there was no reason to dwell on the what-ifs except to torture herself. Sleep, she told herself firmly. I need to sleep, and to heal. But no matter how she tried to match her breathing to Severus', or calm her racing thoughts, she could not seem to slide back into oblivion.
In a clear sign that whatever drugs she had been given earlier had worn off, her head started to pound fiercely, and all the questions that she had not asked earlier about the attack were pressing insistently at her.
Eyes sliding around the room in desperation, Hermione wondered if there was a way to summon Poppy, or at the very least, get up and get help without waking Severus. They were alone, tucked away in a private room of the Hospital Ward. On the bedside table, Hermione spied a pitcher of water and glass, as well as several potion bottles; one had to be her much-needed Headache Relief. Alas, Severus lay between her and the table, and there was no way to reach the medications easily. I don't even dare try to use magic to call Poppy, and I don't want to disturb Severus now that he is asleep… A miserable, indecisive few minutes followed, and it was her rising distress that finally woke her bed partner.
He came awake suddenly, the soft veil of sleep vanishing from his face in an instant. For just a moment, Hermione saw the grim and driven man of her childhood before he slowly eased back into the pillows to stare at her, some of the tension fading from his frame as he registered that they were safe.
"Your head?" he questioned, taking in her pained expression.
"Yes."
"Little wonder, it's been hours since your last dose." Rolling to his side, he plucked the green bottle from the table and uncorked it. Propping her up with his other arm, Severus helped her drink the potion.
"The students?" Hermione asked once the ache had abated into a tolerable throb.
"They were magnificent."
Hermione opened her mouth to question further, but Severus put a gentle finger over her lips. "Water and the rest of your pain potions first, then you can continue your interrogation."
But when Severus' tried to pick up the glass on her bedside table, his hand started to tremble so hard that he had to put the glass back down or risk spilling it all over the both of them.
He blinked rapidly, staring at his quaking, unsteady hand as if it belonged to someone else.
"Severus," she called, and he turned. To her shock, tears had begun to run freely down his face. The sudden appearance of waterworks apparently surprised him as well, because he touched his face uncomprehendingly.
"It's okay to cry." Hermione pushed the blanket back, patting the mattress. "Lie back down with me, love."
His expression was blank for a moment, and then it seemed to crumple. Curling up next to her again, he carefully buried his face into her hair, shaking silently as he let all the sentiment of the previous day out. Seeing his struggle with the overwhelming emotions, Hermione saw she wasn't alone in her fears, and did not feel nearly as foolish at her earlier fit of anxiety. With a muted sigh, she let tears of her own mix with his. Tenderly, she stroked his hair and held him until the storm passed for both of them.
"I can't do that again," he murmured eventually, body gone slack in her arms. "I couldn't protect them, and then I almost lost you…"
"I am none too keen to repeat the experience, let me assure you." Slipping a hand under his shirt, she rested her palm over his pounding heart and tried to move the conversation into calmer waters. "Speaking of, who came to the rescue? The last thing that I remember is making it to a stone wall in hopes of gaining some cover."
He shot her a glare that was equal parts ire and admiration. "I did, but you almost didn't need any rescuing. That cloning charm of yours will most certainly go down in Hogwarts lore as a genius bit of strategy. Your shields held up marvellously until they didn't. I managed to return to the moors right after you had taken up a defensive position at the wall. When your protego finally blew, the sheer force incapacitated the remaining werewolves and myself. I must say, it was quite the detonation."
"Oh."
"Indeed."
"You weren't idiotic enough to come back for me alone, were you?"
He gave her a rebuking look. "Of course not. Minerva called up the remains of the Order, sent for the Malfoys, and then bullied Kingsley into sending the entire London Office of the Aurors out in search for good measure. They were all waiting to charge forth when we Apparated back into the office."
"And your escape with the students?"
"Went shockingly well until it likewise didn't." Severus jaw tightened. "We had almost made it up out of the valley and through the anti-apparition wards when Benedict was hit by an Entrail-Expelling Curse. He went tumbling off his broom but I made it to him just as the werewolves did. He will be on a liquid diet while we regrow his lower gut and mesentery but other than his very own lighting-shaped scar, he'll be fine. Everyone else got off relatively scot-free."
His tone had flattened, and Hermione wondered just how many people he had killed to facilitate their escape. She knew that she had slain several of the werewolves, and while it didn't bother her that much at the moment, Hermione knew that the slaughter, however necessary, would eventually need to be reckoned with. Her next question was voiced much more softly. "Did any of the attackers survive?"
"Not for lack of trying on my part, but yes, two did."
"Severus…"
He shook his head, not ready to dissect that aspect of their survival. "Not now, Hermione. While I regret the necessity of my actions, I have very few qualms about the results."
It was a sentiment that she understood all too well. She gazed at him, the unspoken shadows of his past— indeed, of their shared history—creeping into the room. Having very few qualms about a situation wasn't the same thing as not having regrets, and it was an ambivalence that she was long familiar with. Just because Hermione wouldn't hesitate to toss Delores Umbridge to the Centaurs a hundred times over if it was required didn't mean that she was entirely comfortable with the moral landscape that she often found herself operating in.
"Are any of their claims true?"
Severus shifted, pulling her tightly against him. He appeared relieved that she wasn't going to push the issue. "As far as I can tell, yes." He sighed. "I spoke briefly to the Headmaster's portrait, and he confirmed some of the details. Sheehy brought his pack of twenty over to the Order as part of Lupin's efforts to recruit the werewolves several months before I killed Albus."
"How did he convince them to do that?" Hermione asked, wondering how many layers and plots of the war were still left to be uncovered. "I didn't think that Remus was that successful in bringing any of the wolves over."
"He wasn't. Sheehy's pack was the only one to come over en mass." A thread of dark emotion briefly coloured Severus' tone, but Hermione couldn't quite decipher it. "Albus and Lupin offered them protection, as well as access to education and other material things. While most werewolves had no desire to take part in any of the more… traditional aspects of life accorded to witches and wizards, Sheehy's pack lived enough on the fringes to make it worthwhile for them to chance it."
It sickened Hermione to think that there were wolves that had been left to fend for themselves in such a fashion, and her next question didn't come easily. "Did you know about them, Severus?"
"No," he said swiftly, answer unequivocal. "Neither did Minerva, or we would have done what we could have to fulfil the terms that were set. No," he repeated, bitterness clear, "Albus didn't like to keep his eggs all in one basket, and there was plenty that only he or one other person knew. In this case, it appeared that only Lupin was in on it and when he was killed..."
"But surely, after the war… the Headmaster's portrait must have said something!"
"It didn't, and we didn't ask the right questions when we should have. That charge you can lay at my door, and Minerva's as well, I suppose. Neither one of us speak to him much, and when Albus's portrait isn't pretending to sleep, he's still trying to pull the old barmy-sparkly-wizard act to get us to do his bidding. As we refuse to play along with the fiction that everything is fine, nothing much of importance is said in the limited conversations we do have."
Hermione watched him for a long moment; this was a subject they'd little discussed. "You're still quite mad at him, aren't you?"
His expression turned a shade rueful, and he looked away. "Yes. Not for the reasons that you might think- for the most part, I've accepted the logic that it was I who had to kill him—but because there are so many other things that were done poorly. Leaving Potter hanging out to dry at the end, for one thing, and not telling Minerva how sick he was, or refusing to tell anyone that I was going to kill him… not saving Charity, or the Bones', or protecting your family, for that matter. I understand that he was focused on the greater good and defeating the Dark Lord, but at the end, nothing was done with the thought of the aftermath." Severus shrugged uncomfortably, clearly trying to dismiss his emotions with little luck. "And yes, as we've said, c'est la vie, but the portrait won't even acknowledge the damage that was left behind by his actions."
"Just like when he was alive," Hermione finished, voice a whisper.
"Yes," Severus agreed hoarsely. "You understand that part."
"I do. The first time I saw him standing in the Great Hall, I thought that he was Gandalf come to life. He was the epitome of what an all-powerful wizard should be, and he seemed so perfectly wise." Hermione trailed off, a raft of memories assaulting her. "But later… after the Philosopher's Stone, after I spent weeks of my second year petrified, after the farce that was the Triwizard Tournament… once you killed him… the hard questions were the only ones left to ask." Tilting her head up, she nuzzled further into Severus' shoulder, seeking comfort. "I don't know if we would have had a chance of winning the war without Professor Dumbledore… and while I think that he is a great man, I'm not so sure that he was a good one."
That earned her a rough chuckle, Severus hugging her closer. "I'm of two minds myself. On one hand, he was one of the few that recognised from the start how corrupted Tom Riddle was and what a threat he posed to everyone. Albus knew that he had to act, even though there were very few easy choices to make. But on the other hand, he let Potter grow up full well knowing that he was a Horcrux and did nothing about it. If Albus had swallowed his pride and told Minerva about the problem, brought Filius in, or even Mad-Eye… we might have come up with a solution that didn't require a child to endlessly face the Dark Lord while we made bets from the sidelines."
"I've always wondered about that," Hermine murmured. "The Headmaster so clearly favoured him in some ways, but when the end of the school year would arrive, Harry would be inevitably be fighting for his life once again. It was such madness. If I didn't know better, I would have assumed that he hated him."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Oh, believe me, that sort of contradictory behaviour was par for the course when it came to Albus: Minvera was the person in the world that he trusted the most, and yet he never divulged his deepest secrets to her. He was a man that preached about the overwhelming power of love, and yet after his own disastrous failed affair, never allowed himself to fall in love again. Hell, he utterly loathed me, and yet gave me one of the most prestigious positions outside of the Ministry of Magic with nary a quibble."
"He was always so adamant in his trust of you," she remarked neutrally, wondering how far Severus would let this conversation go.
"Albus did trust me, but neither of us confused that trust for friendship." Seeing her expression, Severus shrugged uncomfortably. "For all that I wore the Dark Lord's mark, I was Albus' creature, and he bloody well knew it. Oh, he respected me by the end—when he saw what I willing to put myself through, he had no choice—but he had no compassion or compunction about throwing me to the wolves. Sometimes literally."
"Just like Harry."
"No," Severus said emphatically. "Potter didn't do anything to deserve that treatment. I did."
Hermione watched him for a long moment, pondering how much she wanted to push that particular point. "I disagree with you there. Neither one of you deserved it."
"Life isn't fair and you know it, my soft-hearted Gryffindor," Severus shot back, voice just short of flat.
"And que, sera, sera. I do know. But I also know that life doesn't have to be as cruel or unforgiving as all that."
"Perhaps," he replied after a lengthy silence. Shaking his head doubtfully, he continued. "What I haven't been able to work out is how long Albus had Marvolo Gaunt's ring in his possession. How much did that cursed stone colour his behaviour over the years?"
Hermione blinked, surprised. "You think that the ring made that much of a difference on his character?"
"Yes," Severus said firmly. "Albus had danced with dark enough as a youth to know what risks the ring carried, and yet, still tried it on like a foolish berk. Still brought us all to ruin. What I don't know is just how long that bloody thing sat festering in his desk drawer, poisoning his thoughts and persuading him down the path to madness. If you look at his actions during the first war, he wasn't nearly as cold-blooded and was far more democratic in his decision-making."
"Well, that's quite the rabbit hole."
"Indeed."
Memories—most of them dark—pressed at the edges of Hermione's thoughts as she took in that revelation. Could some of the dead been saved after all? Could things have gone differently? she wondered, and it was her turn to change the subject lest she lose her composure once again. "You said your conversation with the Headmaster's Portrait was brief?"
"It was. My temper was too uncertain to get more than the bare facts. I gave the portrait twenty-four hours to come up with a list of everyone that he had offered a war-stake to, or otherwise promised a reward. I then informed him that if I ever found out that he was lying or withholding the complete truth again, I would make it my mission to destroy all of his little painted hidey-holes."
"I'm sure that went over well."
"Potter joined me and offered to provide the turpentine when Albus was less than forthcoming."
She gave him an arch look. "Did he now?"
"He did."
"It's almost like the two of you can get along."
Severus sniffed. "The enemy of my enemy and all that rot…"
Amused by his sudden hauteur, she kissed him. After a moment, he pulled back, making a rude face. "Mmm, old Blood-Replenisher. I think it's time for someone to perform an extra-strength mouth cleansing charm before they do that again."
"You bastard," she exclaimed, laughing.
His black eyes flashed with affection rather than anger. "Harridan."
Deliberately, she kissed him once more, winding her fingers through his fine hair to deepen the connection. His mouth didn't exactly taste of mint or lemons either, but Hermione didn't care. They were both breathless when she finally drew back, and she didn't even try to keep the smug expression from her face at the successful deployment of her womanly wiles.
He flopped back onto the pillow dramatically. "You fight dirty. Literally."
"And who did I learn that from?"
"Potter."
"Not hardly, Slytherin."
His expression returned to more serious lines, and he stared at the cracks in the ceiling for a long moment. "Incidentally, I tasked Potter with debriefing the families as to what occurred… including yours."
Hermione stiffened, rolling to her side to get a better look at him. "Why did you do that?"
"Because it's important that your pig-headed parents see a real glimpse of your life."
"And?" she asked, a hint of acid in her voice at his presumption. I really don't have it in me to deal with their continued rejections and objections right now…
"And," he replied mildly, "your father is currently a guest in the Castle, looking forward to speaking with you as soon as you are up to it. Your mother is back in Australia and sends her best wishes in regards to your recovery."
The mixed news set off a fresh round of the sniffles. I can't believe that Dad is here… and that he left Mum to come see me. What does that mean? Could he have finally forgiven me at last? Resolutely, she pushed the confusing thoughts of her parents away, and focused on how wonderful it felt to be held by the man she loved.
Recovering a few minutes later, she croaked, "I'd really like that water now."
This time, Severus had no problem fetching her glass; as he replaced it on the table, her gaze was caught by a dozen glittering Remembralls littering the sideboard, along with a tall stack of charms periodicals. "Severus… why are there all those Remembralls and what looks like half the library sitting over there?"
"Do you ever stop asking questions, witch?" he grumbled but obligingly stretched a long arm towards the table and snagged one of the crystalline orbs. He stared at her for a long moment before continuing. "The Beauxbatons library had only about a third of your publications, and so I decided to catch up on my reading while I waited for you to wake up. Among others, your notion concerning the modification of Remembralls is quite brilliant. Based on that, I decided to do a little adjustment myself. Whereas yours show fear," he said, casting the personalization charm, "mine shows something quite different. I wanted to show you that I was paying attention," he explained, the orb swirling vermillion as it came into contact with his skin.
The image inside stabilized, and he held it out for her inspection, a faint red flush colouring his cheeks matching the Remembrall. Peering at it, she saw her own face float to the surface, Hogwarts in the background. Confused, she glanced at him.
"It shows love."
"Oh, Severus… you foolish, wonderful man." Her eyes started leaking again.
"I love you. I should have said it far earlier than yesterday, but I had these grand designs in my head of doing something stupidly romantic. After everything that's happened, I wanted to show you proof of my feelings."
"Your actions have always been all the proof that I needed," Hermione said, and made a confession of her own. "I wanted to say it too, but I was worried that I would be pressuring you into something that you weren't ready for. We make a fine pair, don't we?" She wiped her nose. "Tell me, how long have you been working on this particular project?"
He squirmed, and she captured one long-fingered hand. "Five months, give or take a couple of days."
"That long?" she asked, dumbfounded. By her maths, that meant early December, and she was more than a little stunned that he'd been so sure in his affection even when they hadn't begun dating.
"That long," he confirmed, still uncomfortable.
"I love you, Severus Tobias Snape," she repeated carefully, relishing in the way his expression softened liked melted chocolate with her words. "Will you marry me?"
He blinked… and then blinked again, gobsmacked. "What did you just say?"
"Marry me." Mischievously, she grinned. "It's only fair that I do the asking since I also did the courting."
"I'm not sure I agree with that assessment of the situation."
"Is that a no?" she teased.
In answer, he fumbled around in his pocket before triumphantly pulling out a bedraggled pink elastic. Reaching for her hand, Severus wrapped it around her ring finger twice. "That's the closest I have to a ring at the moment. It'll have to do until we can get something better."
Sniffling a second time, she said, "It's beautiful."
"You know," he told her tenderly, "Pink hair elastics are a lot like you."
"How is that?" Hermione asked, recalling their long-ago conversation about palm fronds.
Stroking the tie, he smirked. "Pink is, of course, a rather obnoxious hue… but undeniably feminine. Likewise, elastics are supremely practical and can be used in many applications. Circular and constant, they are wonderfully flexible. Unbreakable, one might say."
Dark eyes bright with love, he continued. "I'll gladly marry you, Hermione. Even with your sharp tongue, inappropriate use of Latin, cold feet, superior charms work, and occasional bouts of projectile vomiting."
"Always the bastard…" she accused, unable to stop a grin.
"Always your bastard," he corrected, and bent once more to kiss her.
The next morning found Hermione much improved and mobile, although still sore enough to feel as though she had been run over by a herd of hippogriffs several times over. After eating breakfast, she declared that cleansing charms would no longer suffice, and Severus was more than happy to help her shower. While it was an enjoyable excuse for a quick bit of mutual fondling, a nap was the net result, and she awoke sometime later to the low rumble of male voices arguing.
"Potter-" Severus was hissing, irritation clear.
"I'm just asking you to let me play gatekeeper for a while, not confront the frothing masses. Besides, you've got eight students that have been waiting quite impatiently to see you, not to mention Minerva and her laundry list of to-do items."
"There are frothing masses?" mumbled Hermione, rolling to her side and peering at the half-open door.
"Yeah." Harry smiled and used the distraction to slip in, ignoring Severus' protective glower. "Wait until you see the papers, 'Mione. They went absolutely mental when the news broke. Apparently, there was this squib who lives to take pictures of Muggle trains and he managed to film some of the attack on his iPhone. Naturally, he gave them to the Prophet as soon as he safely scarpered home. You two look like bloody superheroes, by the way, and not even Skeeter has been able to dirty the narrative."
"Oh, joy." Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Hermione grimaced at the bird's nest that was her post-nap hair and attempted to wrestle it into some sort of order.
"Hey, at least it's good coverage for once."
"And we all know how long that will last." Severus' scowl increased. "Potter, as you've woken Hermione, I might as well check on Benedict and help Minerva reset the wards."
Snagging Severus' hand before he could sweep away, Hermione gave it a squeeze. "Whatever comes, we'll get through it."
Expression softening slightly, he squeezed back. "Do you want me to fetch your father?"
"I suppose."
"He can wait, Hermione."
She shook her head. "No use putting it off any longer, I'll just get more nervous about it the more I wait."
"Do you want me to be here when you speak with him?"
Hermione thought about it for a long moment. "Just how much contact have the two of you had with him?"
Severus sent another annoyed glance at Harry. "In my case, only several rather brief conversations over the last twenty-four hours. For what it's worth, he did seem genuinely worried about you and contrite over his previous behaviour."
Flashing her another reassuring grin from the door, Harry added, "I've talked to him a bit more than that. He asked quite a few questions when I showed him around the Castle. Some I answered, and some I did not. But I made sure to impress upon him just how important you are not just to me, but to all of us, especially during the war."
"Helpful," Hermione grumbled. Her parents having more information about the realities of her magical life hadn't made things any easier in the past, and she wasn't sure if she liked the notion of her father having even more ammunition for future fights.
Harry shrugged, unrepentant. "I do agree with Severus. He was overwhelmed by a lot of things—you'll have to ask him about what happened when he tried to play gobstones against a group of third-years yesterday—but he also seemed pretty open to learning about what occurred during the war."
"Will you stay for a little bit once he's here?" Hermione asked Severus, uncertainty colouring her thoughts as she tried to predict how the meeting could go.
"Of course," Severus replied. "Shall I fetch him after I see to Minerva and the students, or would you rather I go now?"
"After. I'm not that brave."
"Yes, you are." Severus leaned down and kissed her before finally making for the door. "I'll be gone for about an hour, I imagine. Call Max or Minnie if you need me."
"I will." Hermione made a shooing motion with her hands, sitting up fully. He departed in a billow of black. Swinging her feet to the floor, she cautiously stood.
"Alright, then?" Harry questioned as she steadied herself.
"So it seems."
"Good," he proclaimed and then stepped forward to engulf her in a tight hug. "Snape wasn't the only one worried sick about you, you know."
"That makes sense, as he's not the only man in my life that I love," Hermione said dryly, hugging him back just as hard.
Harry pulled back and looked at her. "Love, huh? That's a pretty big word to use."
"It is. But then so is our relationship." Hermione smiled, debating if she wanted to share the other big news. "I may have asked Severus to marry me yesterday."
"May have? Hermione, while you can display all the admirable qualities of each Hogwarts house, at the end of the day, you default to being a bulldozer in Gryffindor livery. I highly doubt you 'may' have asked him to marry you."
Hermione laughed. "Regardless of the method, he said yes."
"Good." His voice was firm.
"Really?" she asked, biting her lip.
"Really," Harry replied, and brushed a curl away from her face. "I will admit, the idea of you two in a relationship would have seriously squicked me out when we were younger, but now? I'm glad that the two most brilliant and loyal people in my life have found happiness together."
His affectionate smile was sincere, but Hermione caught the pain lurking in the verdant emerald of his eyes. "We'll find someone for you, Harry."
"Perhaps. I've got the kids, and at the end of the day, they matter the most." Stepping back, he pulled a biro and notepad from his robes. "Now that you've dragged yourself out of bed, are you up to giving me your statement?"
"I suppose. It's not as if I have anything else better to do."
"Excellent. Any chance of you helping me out with some of this paperwork as well? You'll never believe how much of this has to be filled out in triplicate…"
Recognising that he was trying to interject some humour into the potentially fraught situation, she playfully smacked his shoulder. "Absolutely not, Harry James Potter! My days of doing your homework ended a long time ago."
He groaned theatrically. "You are consigning me to death by a thousand papercuts, you know."
"Tough luck, Auror boy."
The main room of the Hospital wing was fortunately calm, with only a few beds occupied. Poppy was bent over a sleeping student casting monitoring charms. Her easy nod of acknowledgement let him know that all was well. Striding to the door opposite of Hermione's, he paused as he heard a cheerful eruption of laughter from behind the closed surface; it sounded like the entire group was gathered in the room. Reluctance, flavoured with a soupcon of shame, stilled his hand just as he was about to knock.
The students never should have been put at risk in such a fashion; after the Dark Lord's defeat, Severus had known that Albus had left more than a few threads dangling in the wind but had ignored those implications in favour of moving forward. That particular act of wilful ignorance combined with his own more recent asinine behaviour meant that Severus had plenty to atone for.
Despite the rather eventful ending to the year-long trip, Severus knew that he had not exactly covered himself in glory; at the beginning of the trip, he'd been a royal arse to the students, and while he'd eventually worked to mend fences, Severus felt that he had done very little to inspire the confidence and trust that they'd shown in him. It was a discomforting realisation to say the least, especially as the students had done Hogwarts proud throughout the year, not just during the attack.
In addition, it was blessedly obvious that they had kept their gobs shut concerning the true nature of their professors' relationship; not a single whiff of romantic drivel had appeared in any of the news coverage, or, indeed, on the lips of the Hogwarts staff. It was a kindness that Severus had not expected, and it all left him at a loss as to how to proceed.
A second burst of hilarity sounded, and Snape brought his hand back up with purpose. I will begin as I mean to go on, he told himself, an edge of self-deprecating humour lancing through his reluctance. After all, that particular approach hasn't blown up in my face too much of late…
But before he could knock, the door flew open to reveal the smiling face of Rebecca Mulligan. The warmth in her expression deepened when she saw him, and she pulled him into the room without hesitation.
"Headmaster! I was just going to see how you and Professor Granger were doing today. Madam Pomfrey said that she was healing satisfactorily, but we wanted to make sure."
Allowing himself to be guided towards the bed that Colin Benedict occupied, Snape took in the cheerful scrum of students surrounding the Gryffindor. The boy beamed dazedly up at them, Poppy's heavy hand when it came to pain potions once again evident.
"Sir," Benedict greeted, slurring the word slightly. "It's good to see you."
"Likewise, Mr Benedict. I am quite pleased to see that you are awake and up to visitors so soon after your injury."
"How are you doing, sir?" Emma Zabini inquired, concern making it more than a polite question.
"I am well, and much relieved now that Professor Granger is finally up and about. Assuming that Madame Pomfrey doesn't forbid it, I imagine that she will be along later to check on you all herself."
Jonathan Burke moved forward as an awkward silence fell over the group. "Headmaster, we just want to thank you for everything that you did for us."
"There is no need for thanks, Mr Burke. As Head of Hogwarts, your safety is of utmost importance to me. I only regret that I couldn't keep you all from harm in the first place. You were dragged into a fight that was not your own, and for that, I hope that you will forgive us."
"Forgive you, sir?" Burke repeated, shaking his head. "You and Professor Granger saved our lives—"
"Which is precisely my job," Snape retorted mildly, guilt pressing at him with everything that was being left unsaid; his actions were shades of Albus', and it stung.
"Yes, it is," Amina Patel agreed in a firm voice, pushing forward like the Gryffindor she was. "But what Jonathan is trying to say is this: duty or no, we are all exceedingly grateful that you saved our lives, and with such… panache, no less." A surprising subtle smirk played across her face. "But more importantly, we want to thank you for how much trust you displayed in us. It means the world that you treated us as capable witches and wizards, not as mere students."
"That trust was amply repaid by your collective calm during the attack, Ms Patel. Most people—and by that, I mean fully grown witches and wizards, not merely students—would not have comported themselves so ably."
Patel gave a short huff of impatience. "We don't mean just during the attack, sir. We mean during the whole of the trip."
Snape tried to divine the full meaning of her statement and came up lamentably short. "I'm afraid I don't precisely take your point."
"You were always there for us, sir," Sean Davies said, "and you treated us all the same regardless of house—"
"We learned loads with the extra tutoring and labs," Charlotte Payton added.
Jacob Smith-Ellingsworth nodded in agreement. "Not to mention all the duelling practice. I reckon we'll all breeze through the Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. because of that help alone, and I can't wait to start up the duelling club like you said we could."
"And don't forget the weekly Quidditch matches," Colin Benedict exclaimed loudly from the bed.
Everyone laughed, and Amina Patel rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him. "As if any of us will forget about the all-important Quidditch…" Patel turned her attention back to Snape. "What we are trying to say, sir, is thank you for not being only the Headmaster, but for spending so much time with us. Coming back to the Castle and all of the rules has really brought home how much you could have hidden yourself away but choose not to over the trip."
"You have Professor Granger to thank for that," Severus said, touched and a tad shamed by their show of gratitude, not to mention how differently they viewed his behaviour. "I merely followed her excellent example."
"That's exactly what we are trying to get at—you didn't hide what was going on between the two of you during the trip, or anything else for that matter. You trusted us with your private life and let us see you as a person, not just the fearsome headmaster. It wasn't something any of us expected back in September."
Severus was thoroughly embarrassed by the thanks; if he had been unusually available to them, it had only been because Hermione had utterly thrown him for an emotional loop and he could do nothing else but hang on for the ride. But that's not precisely true, a quiet internal voice disagreed. He had decided to make changes independent of Hermione- his sartorial switches and increased student involvement being the two clearest examples.
Hermione may have provided the kick, he thought, but she wasn't the lever…
It was jarring to see how heroically his students perceived him versus the relentless critic that had always sat on his shoulder. The recognition of that dichotomy brought a realisation; Severus' chief weakness wasn't his prickly pride or even his hubris, it was that he always saw the worst in himself, rather than any of his strengths.
Gazing at his students' generous, open expressions, he let their compassionate sentiment settle over him like a comforting jumper on a cool day. I could have done better. I always can do better. But for once, I will let myself be pleased by what I have done and accept the acknowledgement in the spirit in which it is intended.
Abruptly attempting to not look like he was in the midst of a massive mental shift, Severus tried to catch the thread of conversation.
"… anyway, isn't there some Muggle writer that is famous for saying all's well that ends well?" Sean Davies was saying.
After a beat of silence, Charlotte Payton exclaimed, "Christ on a cracker, Sean. Really? Only you would refer to the Bard as 'some Muggle writer' and think that pithy bit of nonsense is what made him famous."
The boy grinned, clearly enjoying winding everyone up. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Lotti. Clearly he can't be that famous if that's all I know about him."
"Hamlet? Macbeth? Romeo and Juliet? The Tempest? Any of that sound familiar?"
Davies shook his head, still smiling. "Not ringing any bells, sorry."
Charlotte Payton sent a pleading look to Severus. "Please tell me you are going to make Muggle Studies mandatory, sir."
"I am working on it, Miss Payton, believe me," Severus said dryly. "Although it remains to be seen if anything other than chess or football can penetrate Mr Davies' thick skull."
Everyone laughed at that, even Davies.
"On a more serious note," Severus continued, "I want you all to know just how proud I am of your courage and bravery. Over the last year, you've not only represented the finest qualities of your houses, but truly have been the best that Hogwarts can be."
His quiet words were greeted with a stunned, sincere pleasure; it was Colin Benedict who finally broke the silence with a slurred, "Thank you, sir."
"How is it that you're high as a mooncalf, Colin, and yet still manage to have better manners than the rest of us?" Amina Patel asked jokingly.
"Talent."
Severus smirked at the retort. "Well, your combined talents has resulted in one problem for me: I have no idea how we are going to choose between you for head boy and girl. You all equally deserve it."
Colin Benedict made a sweeping gesture from the bed, nearly knocking off a glass of water. "I say you give it to us all, Headmaster. Break all the rules!"
His theatrical delivery, not to mention the suggestion, generated another round of laughter, but Severus merely smiled. "We just might, Mr Benedict, we just might."
Five minutes later Severus was striding up the circular staircase to the Head's office, mind busily cataloguing all the things that needed to be done to put the Castle to rights. Coming to an abrupt stop at the top of the stairs, he stared in open astonishment at the scene in front of him.
Minerva wasn't alone… and unless he was very much missing the mark, he'd just interrupted something.
A tall, iron-haired man was standing close to Minerva, a golden fall of light from the setting sun gilding them both with warmth as they watched each other breathlessly; heads titled and breaths coming fast, it appeared that they were moments away from a kiss. It took a second for his arrival to be noticed, and both Minerva and the man jumped back with guilty expressions.
"Severus, there you are. I was wondering if I was going to see you today or not," Minerva said briskly, not quite able to hide the delicate flush that was staining her cheeks. Much to his internal amusement, Severus noted that the man appeared somewhat flustered as well.
"It took a while for Hermione to be up and about, and I wanted to check in on the students before I delved into the administrative backlog," he responded smoothly, arching a brow in question at the older man.
She took the hint and performed the required introduction. "Of course. Severus, you must have met the Hogwarts Stationmaster, Hugh Munroe, at least in passing but let me introduce you both properly. Hugh, this is Headmaster Severus Snape."
Proffering his hand, Severus stepped forward to greet the Stationmaster politely. "I understand you were the first to identify that there was an issue with the Express."
Munroe's grip was strong, but not overly so. "Aye, I had that unfortunate distinction. I'm just sorry that I couldn't locate her any sooner."
"Hugh has been an enormous help to me, not just the day of the attack, but also in working with the Ministry to determine the best way to retrieve the Express," Minerva told him, gesturing at a thick stack of paperwork that was spread all over the table.
"I thank you," Severus said formally, surprised that Minerva had looked for help outside of the Castle.
"It grieves me that my help was needed in the first place," Munroe responded, "but I am pleased that my expertise could bring something positive to endeavour."
"And indeed it did," Minerva announced stoutly.
Hugh smiled, bright blue eyes looking at Minerva with obvious affection. "On that note, I need to head back and see how things are progressing at the scene. The Ministry thought that they would have the charm work in place needed to clean the watershed by half-past five, and I want to make sure that it's gone smoothly."
"There is an issue with a watershed?" Severus asked, unsure as to what they were discussing.
Hugh Munroe nodded, pointing to a schematic of the crash site. "That there is… the various compartments of the Express ended up scattered all over a protected Muggle watershed, and before we can move it, we need to clean up and restore the surrounding area. It's a right bloody mess, I don't mind telling you."
"I can only imagine," Severus said, thinking about all of the useless governmental bumf—Magical and Muggle—that was likely to result from the attack. "Allow me to repeat my thanks for your assistance, then. The Ministry is fond of making people jump through more hoops than a keeper, and you do us a great favour by taking on so much."
"I've taken care of the Express for over twenty years," Munroe explained, waving away the thanks. "There is no way that I could leave her to rust and rot in a field while the Ministry endlessly debates the best course of action. We'll get her home soon enough, and then see what we can to restore her to glory."
"Thank you, Hugh," Minerva said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I know that you are the best man for the job."
"I'll not let you down," Munroe confirmed and made for the door.
Severus waited until he heard the staircase cease moving, indicating the Scotsman was safely away in the corridor. "It appears that I'm not the only one with personal news to share."
Minerva stiffened slightly at his words but seeing that Severus wasn't trying to take the piss, relaxed. "Oh, I don't know if I'd go that far. There are possibilities, I will admit, but at this age, I'm also rather set in my ways."
"None of which precludes being lonely," Severus noted. "Having so recently discovered the joy of cohabitation, I'd encourage you to take a risk or two."
Cocking her head and looking down her glasses at him, Minerva spoke with humour. "Are you giving me romantic advice, Severus Snape?"
"Well, clearly a bit of meddling didn't do me any harm, did it, Minerva? Or Hermione, for that matter."
"Alas, you both are quite singular, and I daren't try to extrapolate those results," she said dismissively, beginning to fuss with the papers littering the tables.
Severus watched her, seeing the rare chink in Min's formidable armour. "I don't know Munroe well enough to speak for him, but I can say without reservation that you are rather singular as well."
Minerva let out a Scottish snort. "Perhaps. But we can't all be singular, Severus. Or if we are, it would make us all the same in the end."
"I was hardly suggesting that," he said wryly. "I am more than happy to point out the unsingular among us if that would make you feel better."
"Oh, hush, you. Can we discuss something of use, like getting the wards reset or how we are going to manage to get the students home with no Hogwarts Express in a month's time?"
"As you wish," Severus intoned, gifting her with a bow that stopped just short of mocking.
That did the trick; Minerva smiled at him. "I can't believe I'm about to admit this, but I did miss you, you know."
"And I, you, despite your machinations, Gryffindor."
Minerva cackled at the familiar sally. "Tell me, Slytherin, just how long did it take you to spot that the whole trip was a setup?"
"No comment."
She laughed again, patting him on the shoulder patronisingly. "You poor thing, beaten at your own game. However will you cope?"
"By coming up with a grandiose and brash plan of retribution that ignores all notions of good taste, not to mention health and safety regulations, I imagine."
"Good luck with that. You do know that I can tell when you spike the cat balm, right?"
Severus raised a black brow. "And yet you continue to get into it on a regular basis as if you can't."
"Well, it is a good deal cheaper than good whiskey," she noted dryly.
"Merlin forbid you divert yourself from the path of ultimate thriftiness."
"My father always said that there was no point in having two groats to rub together if you didn't make them squeak."
Letting out a short laugh, Severus pointed to the towering stack of papers on the desk. "Speaking of squeaking, I can almost hear the groan of the desk under all that weight of paperwork. Shall we get to it before it collapses?"
"If you insist…"
He and Minerva spent an agreeable two hours going through the administrative bumf that had piled up; still, Severus was surprised at how little there was for him to do after a school-year long absence. It was clear that Minerva had been burning plenty of midnight oil to keep up with the backlog as much as she had.
"You've been cosseting me," he finally remarked as he signed his name to the last pay warrant with a flourish.
Minerva looked down her glasses at him. "And what of it?"
Severus took a moment to decide an approach. "Thank you," he replied, deliberately keeping his tone formal.
"You never have to thank me, lad. I failed you enough times over the years that you are owed some cosseting from me yet."
"Not true. You've been there for me when I truly needed it."
She gave a harsh, humour-free laugh. "No, I wasn't."
Severus sat back in his chair, saddened and surprised to see how much guilt Minerva still carried; is this how I've appeared to others? he wondered. Little wonder that I've not been able to move on… "You've been my rock and protector these last ten years, Minerva, never mind the last two days. Does that count for nothing?"
She took in a slow breath, gaze falling to the desk abstractedly. "I sincerely hope it does."
"It does," Severus responded, reaching out and placing a hand over hers. "It most assuredly does. And you've given me the best gift of my life- love. Not just Hermione's, but yours."
Her eyes shot to his, filling with tears. "Oh, boyo, are you determined to make me cry?"
"If that's what it takes for you to realise that you aren't an unforgivable monster," he said, offering her a crooked smile.
There was a rustle of robes, and then a hesitant, all-too-familiar voice spoke from the wall. "Minerva—"
She spun and had her wand drawn so quickly that Snape was impressed despite himself.
"Get out!" she hissed at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "I have told you more than once that you are not welcome here!"
The painted figure opened his mouth to argue, but Minerva was faster, sending out a burst of flame from her wand that only just stopped short of the canvas. Albus fled.
"That was very… precise," Severus stated carefully.
"I've had a wee bit of practice."
Rising from the desk, Severus strode over to the sidebar by the windows and pulled out two tumblers. Uncorking the scotch, he glanced at Minerva. "Neat, or no?"
With a scowl, she rose and joined him in the sitting area. "Oh, no need to waste ice on my hot temper."
"I'm glad that you said it, not I." Pouring her a healthy measure, Severus handed her the glass and then saluted her with his own drink.
"Slàinte mhath," Minerva returned and downed her scotch in one go. "Will the sting of that particular betrayal ever stop, you think?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it might once we let go of our anger enough to not see the entirety of his actions as a betrayal."
Minerva's eyes flared bright green. "Oh, you've forgiven him then?"
"Not hardly," he snapped back. "But if I've learned one thing over the past year, it's that I'd rather wallow in love than hate."
Her mouth popped open and she became properly teary at that. Snape was momentarily flummoxed by Minerva's show of emotion; she was normally so stalwart that seeing it from her left him distinctly uncomfortable.
"There now, Minnie, don't cry," he said awkwardly, trying to pat her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. The look she gave him was equal parts embarrassment and utter emotional exhaustion, a state that he knew all too well as of late. "Or do have a cry, if that would help..."
She swayed slightly, pride warring with need. Then, like a mighty tree finally bowing under the pressure of a great wind, she collapsed onto his shoulder, sobbing silently.
How many shoulders has she been able to lean on over the years? Severus wondered with real regret, putting an arm around her. Very few, I would guess. Despite having a marriage and more friends, I think that she has been just as alone as I've been over the years… Minerva always seemed so self-sufficient, but with hindsight brought on by a long absence, he questioned how much of that was for show, and how much of it was brought on by sheer necessity.
With a final shudder, she composed herself. "Thank you."
"Anytime," Severus answered with all seriousness. He paused and then smirked. "After all, I have been told by a reliable source that I am a champion hugger."
"You are incorrigible, boyo…" Minerva said, giving a watery laugh. Pulling out a linen handkerchief, she dried her face and glanced down with dismay at his damp sweater. "Cashmere, Severus? I am quite astounded given your predilection for all things ovine."
"Hermione is rather fond of it."
"Is she now?"
"Yes." Feeling like it needed to be stated again—and this time hopefully without interruption, he repeated, "Thank you, Minerva. I meant it when I said that I am most grateful for your support over the years- even when it takes the form of blatant meddling. Your friendship is something that I value quite highly."
"The feeling is mutual. I only wish that there was a way I could make up for all the years that I failed you."
"I refuse to accept that rhetoric," Snape said dryly. "After all, I once had a fairly wise transfiguration professor who was fond of telling us that as long as we could learn from our mistakes and do better, there was very little that couldn't be mended by change."
"Mmm… and she was only fairly wise? What a pity."
"Can any of us truly call ourselves wise?" Severus asked, aping a pious manner.
Minerva gave a snort at that and reached for the bottle of scotch once more.
Staring at the spot on the wall where Albus' big, black frame hung, Severus considered if there was a healing change at hand that they had both been ignoring. That frame—empty or no—is a constant open sore in this office, he concluded. Coming to a quick decision, he made a shallow slice across his palm and gently placed it on the stone wall, holding the notion to the forefront of his mind as best he could.
Magic sparkled around the room as the Castle heard his request. Curiosity, acceptance, and something like compassion filled the air, and with a muted clatter, the portraits around the office re-shuffled. The ebony frame of Albus Dumbledore disappeared, and in its place landed the bright yew of Dilys Derwent.
"Well now," the healer and former Headmistress of Hogwarts remarked cheerfully, "it's been quite a few years since I've enjoyed the view from here."
Minerva turned to him in confusion. "Severus, what did you do?"
"I asked the Castle to banish Albus to the third-floor guest sitting room. We'll deal with this latest crisis of his soon enough, but we don't need him always looming above us, do we?"
"No… we don't."
"Promise me something, Min," he said, the words coming out with more intensity than he'd planned.
"What?"
"Forgive yourself, and him. What's done is done, and we can't change the past."
Minerva sighed deeply. "It's not that easy, and you of all people should know that."
"True, but it can be a group project."
"Ahh, yes, because that always makes it easier."
"It is if you choose the right partners. Or at least find ones who are cleverer than you and enough have type-a control issues that it ensures that they do all the work."
"Always the Slytherin."
"Naturally."
Minerva stared at him for a moment, the warmth fading into solemnity. "There is something else on your mind, isn't there?"
"Yes," he admitted with easy shrug. "Now is not the time or place, but there are some things that I want to discuss with you about the last year of Albus' life. In particular, I am curious to know just when he came into possession of Marvolo Gaunt's ring."
She was surprised by the subject. "And what is that?"
"It was Horcrux. A pernicious, persistent object of dark magic that sat in the desk drawer at Albus' right hand for Merlin knows how many years, feeding off his magic. What effect did that have on his thoughts? On his compassion and sense of fairness?"
"I… well now, that is quite the ball of yarn to unravel, Severus."
"Yes, it is. Hence my comments about all of this being a group project. The only way we are going to be able to come to terms with anything is by processing it together. Up until now, I think that we've both done our damnedest to forget, seeing that as the only way to move forward. Clearly, that is not working. Not for either of us."
Minerva swallowed hard, a brief burst of emotion flooding her face again. "As much as it pains me to admit it, I think that you are correct. I will try to be open to a different approach."
Slanting her a sardonic look, Severus said. "There is no try, only do."
"You are quoting a Muggle film at me, aren't you?"
"Indeed I am. It's a rather good one too." Severus took her hand in his own. "I can't do this without you. I wouldn't want to do this without you. More importantly, you've paid enough penance in blood, sweat, and tears to last a hundred years. You deserve to be happy, just as I do… and am."
"After having the dubious pleasure of knowing you for the better part of forty years, I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear you say that." Her voice quavered slightly on the last word.
"I believe that the words stubborn and sod are not erroneous when describing my character."
"Mmm, among others… It will be as you said, then. A group project."
Poppy was fussing over Hermione when Severus brought her father in to see her. For his part, Severus had donned the mask of coolly impassive but spectacularly intimidating Headmaster; her father appeared appropriately uneasy in his company, one hand tapping out an uneven rhythm on his leg as they hovered at the door. Hermione would have found the sight of her fiancé cowing her father into silent, student-like apprehension amusing had she not been so nervous herself.
"Now, my dear, I know that it's quite frustrating, but I'd like you to wait at least another couple of days before you attempt any magic," Poppy was saying, and then glanced up and gave the visitors a stern look. "Good evening, gentlemen. As I was just telling Hermione, she still has a way to go before I am comfortable releasing her from my care, and I will not tolerate any disruptions to her recovery. Is that understood?"
"Of course," Severus murmured as her father nodded along wordlessly.
"Excellent. Hermione, when you are done visiting, please come and see me. I have several fortifying potions that I want to start you on."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," she said dutifully, holding back a smile. Poppy gave her affectionate pat on the shoulder and departed in a bustle of robes.
"Hello, Dad," Hermione greeted, indicating the chair closest to the bed. "Come in and have a seat."
"Thank you," George Granger replied, perching awkwardly on the chair. "How are you doing? You certainly look far better than yesterday."
"I feel far better than yesterday. Still pretty banged up, but on the whole, loads improved."
"Good… good. I am relieved to hear it. The pictures from the attack showed a rather chaotic scene."
Snippets of remembered sensation returned to her—blistering heat from spelled flames and eerie, echoing howls chasing her—and Hermione pasted a deliberately jovial expression on her face. "It was, but as I said, I'm on the mend and thankfully, so is just about everyone else."
"Yes, your friend Harry mentioned that the only fatality outside of the attackers was the train engineer."
"That's correct," Hermione said. Deciding to take the Erumpent by the horn, she added, "I do have some good news to relate, however. I asked Severus to marry me yesterday, and he agreed."
Her father started, surprised. "My congratulations to you both."
"Thank you," Severus answered politely enough. "Although I prefer to think that we asked each other."
"I did ask first," Hermione teased, seeing the glint of humour in his eyes. "But I see your point. How about we mutually agreed to marry?"
Severus' lips quirked. "That is an entirely satisfactory explanation."
"Clearly, the two of you already have the art of negotiation down pat," George said with forced cheeriness. "I also have similar news, but not of the happy variety. As you may have guessed, your Mother and I have decided to separate."
Although it wasn't a shock, it did give Hermione pause. "I'm sorry to hear that, Dad."
He shook his head. "Don't be. While I regret that further breaks up our family, things haven't exactly been on the up-and-up for a long time either. It's for the best."
"Will you and Mum divorce?"
"I imagine so. She prefers life in Australia, and I don't. I still burn like a lobster at the faintest hint of the sun, for one thing." Her father gave her a tight smile and then sighed deeply. "Oh, blast it all… this isn't how I'd hoped this conversation would go. Hermione, I'm terribly sorry how I treated you for the last several years. There are reasons for my actions, but at the end of the day, they are nothing but poor excuses."
From his chair on the other side of the bed, Severus reached out and took her hand comfortingly. Hermione bit her lip, a dozen questions and comments coming to mind before finally settling on one. "Dad… I know that it's incredibly hard to forgive me for using memory charms the way I did but is that the only reason that you and Mum have been so cold to me since I restored your memories?"
"I have forgiven you, Hermione, and it's very important to me that you know that. If you wish, I can try to explain things a bit, although I can't and won't speak for your mother."
"I would like that," Hermione replied. "I rather imagine that we both have many unanswered questions about any number of topics."
"I do, especially after having spent several days in this Castle. The experience has certainly hammered home the differences in our lives in a way that yearly visits to Diagon Alley failed to do…" Her father trailed off, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "Where should I start? The beginning, I suppose."
"That's the obvious place," Severus remarked dryly.
George gave a short laugh at that. "Hermione, you know, I think, that your mother and I never planned on having children. When she found out she was pregnant, it came as quite a shock for both of us. We both were concerned because she was rather far along in the pregnancy and had taken no special protections when using the dental x-ray machines or any of the chemicals. She was also three months into a very prestigious oral maxillofacial surgery residency, and the combination put us both into a tailspin."
"She never mentioned the residency to me."
"No, she wouldn't have. It crushed her to give it up, and the first year after your birth was a rocky one as a result. There wasn't anything I could do to make her happy, and at the same time, we both struggled with learning how to be parents. Neither one of us had spent any time around infants, and not having any family to lean on, it was a challenge. But as you grew older, it became far easier; you were such an independent, bright child, and we'd only have to point you in a direction and off you'd march."
"And then my magic started to manifest…"
"Yes," her father confirmed, amusement colouring his tone, "and let me tell you, it was something that no parenting book could ever prepare us for. At first, we thought we were going crazy. It could be funny, like that time you accidentally turned old Mrs Tennent's hair bright orange, but it was also terrifying, especially when you lost your temper and things literally started flying around. At that point, we started wondering if the radiation or chemicals that your Mother had been exposed to during the pregnancy had damaged you in some way; Helen was convinced that it was all her fault and had a very rough go of it. Finally, your Ministry came and told us what was really happening. Who you were, and where you would go to school… and suddenly there was this division between us and you started learning about things that we couldn't understand. In short order, it seemed like you didn't need us anymore."
Hermione blinked back tears. "I did. I was terribly lonely that first year, and everything was just so different."
Her father had the grace to look ashamed. "That's obvious now, but back then… well, I can only say that my ego got the best of me. Your mother and I were having serious problems in our own relationship, and then you'd come home on holiday and I couldn't even help you with your homework. I… retreated. From everyone. It felt like no one needed me."
"We do a poor job of ensuring that Muggle families and students stay connected," Severus said diplomatically. "As a half-blood myself, I can understand the inherent tension between the old and new."
"Be that as it may, I did a poor job of trying to build my own bridges with you, Hermione." George shrugged, the weight of memories adding years to his face. "We muddled on. That final summer, right before you sent us to Australia, I discovered that your mother had been having an affair with Thomas Montrose."
"He is your best friend!" Hermione exclaimed with a gasp.
"He was," her father confirmed grimly, anger obvious. "However, I had not confronted your mother with the information yet; I was still deciding what I wanted to do."
"And then I took the choice out of your hands," Hermione said, miserable.
"No," George shook his head firmly. "I had known for a number of weeks. It's my fault that I chose not to act in a timely manner. Ironically, once we were settled in Melbourne, we were far happier. Your perception—or at least the memories that you granted us—was of a much stronger couple who had far more in common than not. When you came back and restored our memories, the trauma of the shared experience brought the two of us even closer together. Still, the transition was rough. Your mother was far happier as Monica Wilkens, and for my part, I could not forget what I had known as George Granger. And then there was you."
Her father stopped, taking off his glasses and examined the lens for a moment. "We weren't just strangers to each other, I think. We were strangers to ourselves, too. You were so changed, Hermione. All your joy, all of your curiosity… it was just gone. And in its place was a sort of bleak guilt and resigned competence. I was angry at you at first, but after… I didn't know what to do. And your mother was even more furious, and clearly needed me to comfort her. You didn't."
"I didn't want to be a burden. Not after what I had done," Hermione whispered.
"Again, hindsight being what it is, that is clear. But then? Your mother and I both thought that you were rejecting us, that you saw us as useless Muggles. After all, we couldn't even protect ourselves, never mind you."
At that, Hermione really did start to cry. "It was never like that, I promise! I just felt like the worst daughter in the world."
Severus shifted from his chair to the edge of her bed, placing a warm arm around her; she didn't have to look at his face to feel the glare he was directing towards her father. George pulled a limp handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her apologetically.
"I know that now, my dear. But there was so much we didn't know then about what had happened. There were so many questions over the years that we hadn't bothered to ask… and it was so much easier to bury ourselves in self-righteous anger. Who wants to admit that they are at fault for something as earth-shattering as this?"
He sighed once more. "As I said, we had many reasons, but in the end, they boiled down to nothing by poor excuses. By last year, all the old disagreements between your mother and I had not just returned but multiplied tenfold. After having dinner with you in France, I also found out that she had been hiding all the letters you had been sending us. That was the straw that broke the camel's back for me."
"But why would she do that?"
"I don't know. Helen has been very unhappy for many years. That unhappiness has sapped whatever empathy she once had; every mean action was put down to the fault of someone else, and not as her own doing. Perhaps this is my bitterness speaking, but she was quite content with her crown of martyrdom and refused to accept any responsibility for anything- not her actions, not her happiness, and certainly not for the state of her relationships."
"I'm sorry, Dad," Hermione said, feeling sympathy as much of what he said echoed the dysfunctional patterns of her relationship with Ron. "That sounds horrible."
"It was. But so is the fact that I stopped being a father at the time when you needed me the most. Rather than deal with any of our problems, I tried to let time and passivity wipe them away. I am so sorry, Hermione. I hope that you can forgive me, and that we can build a much stronger relationship in future."
"I want to try," she responded, meaning it with every fibre of her soul. "I've missed you so much."
"As have I," her father said and rose. Leaning down, he planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Now, clearly, our conversation has run afoul with your healer's orders about disturbing your rest. Unless you have any burning questions, I'll let you have some space. The Headmistress has been kind enough to invite me to stay for the rest of the week, so I am entirely at your disposal."
"Maybe we can have a meal or two together tomorrow?" Hermione asked, encouraged by his words. "And assuming that Madam Pomfrey will let me out and about, perhaps I can show you around the Castle as well."
"I would enjoy that very much," George replied, looking equally pleased. He turned to Severus. "Headmaster, I know that Hermione is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but I do hope that you will keep her company the remainder of the evening."
"I wasn't planning on leaving her side," Severus informed him. "And I would prefer that you called me Severus, although Snape works just as well."
"Thank you. Severus it is. Likewise, I would prefer George." He smiled down at her. "Good night, my dear. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
Her father had just reached the door when there was a brisk knock and Madam Pomfrey appeared, holding several potions phials.
"I am loathe to interrupt, but visiting hours ended about ten minutes ago."
"Off I pop, never fear," George said with a bow, and stepped from the room.
Poppy waited for a polite interval and then firmly shut the door behind him. "Did it go alright, Hermione?"
She nodded, still feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Yes. He explained a lot of things, and I think that there is a real chance that we can repair our relationship. It's a positive start for sure."
"Excellent, I am glad to hear it." She proffered one of the potions. "Now, down the hatch with this bit of nastiness, I'm afraid."
Hermione chuckled at the phrase and uncorked the bottle. It tasted beyond foul, but Severus was there with a fresh glass of water as soon as she was finished.
"It should be noted, my lovies, as that these are strengthening potions, they will likely negate any oral contraceptive you may be taking for at least the next two weeks. So do remember, it's the barrier method or the charm unless you are looking to provide us with another lovely surprise in about nine months." Poppy dimpled, obviously enjoying watching the flush that coloured Severus' cheeks.
"I don't think that either of us are looking to put the cart before the horse, no," Hermione said wryly.
"Pity. I wouldn't mind a wee sprog running about to spoil."
"You have an entire school to fuss over, woman. What more do you want?" Severus asked, recovering his composure.
"Spotty youths have a far different allure than a chubby-cheeked baby, and you know it." Poppy waved a dismissive hand about. "Moving on, both literally and figuratively, Hermione, should you want to sleep in your quarters starting tonight, I have no objections. I only ask that you check in with me before or after all meals so that I can run a quick diagnostic charm."
Hermione rose from the bed quicker than Lazarus. "That would be utterly wonderful."
"I thought you might appreciate the privacy. Do let me know whose rooms you will be in." With a last smile, Poppy left.
"My rooms or yours?" Hermione asked teasingly.
Severus rolled his eyes. "It matters not, as long as we are in the same bed."
Ten minutes later, Hermione closed the door of her private rooms with a sigh of relief. The unconscious tension she'd been carrying from not being in a familiar place dropped away, and she relaxed even further as Severus' arms came around her in a reassuring embrace.
He nuzzled her neck, giving it a kiss. "So, am I correct in thinking that, for the moment, I am barred from administering a mild poison to your father in tomorrow's tea?"
"Yes, you bloodthirsty sod, you most certainly are."
"Poisoning is a subtle, delicate art and quite different than the brutish unsophistication of desanguination, thank you very much."
"Oh, I stand corrected," she giggled, leaning back into him.
His tone turned serious. "Off to bed, or do you wish to stay up for a little while longer?"
"Do you know what I'd really like?" she asked, turning to look up at him. "A good, long soak in the bath. That tub in the Express just couldn't cut it."
"Then, by all means, allow me to draw you a bath."
"Will you join me?"
Severus looked pleased with the invitation. "If you insist."
The bath was perfectly hot, and Severus had poured in a scented oil redolent of sandalwood, chamomile, and vetiver in the water, lending the room a luxurious serenity. Leaning back onto Severus' chest, Hermione couldn't have been more content.
"How did your afternoon with Minerva go?"
"It was productive. Much as with your father, we discussed several things that we had been avoiding for far too long."
Knowing the resentment and guilt that the older woman still carried around, Hermione asked, "Is she alright?"
"She had a bit of a wobble, but yes." Severus threaded the fingers of one hand around hers, seeking some comfort of his own.
"We'll get through this," Hermione said softly, referring to the fallout from the attack. "None of us have to deal with it alone. Not this time."
Severus didn't reply, a quiet if heartfelt sigh his only answer as they both sank deeper into the water. It was another five minutes before either of them spoke again.
"Hermione?" His long body had grown steadily tenser, and Hermione pulled herself from near sleep with effort.
"Hmmmm?"
"Do you… want children?"
Hermione's mind gave a little sputter at the hesitant, almost shy question, but she kept her voice even. "I'm not averse to the thought. You?"
Severus didn't answer right away, and she could feel a new stiffness pressing against her back. "I will admit, there is a primitive part of me that quite likes the idea of putting you up the duff."
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the multitude of ways he had expressed the sentiment. "Mmmm, aren't you the dirty man… but let's not walk down that path for a while yet, okay?"
"I quite agree," he drawled, sounding relieved that she hadn't reacted poorly to the notion. "More practice is needed, for one thing. And as you said, we wouldn't want to put the cart before the horse."
Turning and kissing the line of his jaw tenderly, Hermione smiled. "In a hurry to yoke yourself to me, Severus?"
The humour faded slightly from his face, an emotion altogether more serious appearing. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I very much want to call you my wife."
Oh, you dear, sweet man! With a splash, Hermione rose to her knees and wiggled around, careful not to maim anything important. Cupping his face with both hands, she pulled him into a deep kiss. His reaction was gratifyingly swift, mouth opening to hers and deft fingers leaving swirls of fire on her skin as they slid up and down her body possessively.
"I'm looking forward to calling you my husband as well," she gasped as he fondled her breast with a ruthless hunger. "Spring might be the preferred time for weddings, but I'm not keen on waiting that long. Christmas?"
"Yes," he growled, attention focused on other things.
"I love you," Hermione told him fiercely, hearing his breathing hitch as she began a lingering exploration of his erection below the waterline.
"I love you, too." He grinned crookedly, happier than she'd ever seen him. "Barrier or charm?"
"Let's cast the charm together, shall we? Begin as we mean to go on and all that."
"A most excellent idea…"
A/N- Welp... this took far longer than I expected. For that, my most sincere apologies. This was written up months ago but before I could post, my computer died a most inglorious death, taking this final chapter with it to the grave. At the time, re-writing all 7,000 words was too much with other things going on in my life and so it sat, festering and sad in my mind. It might have stayed that way had I not gained not only a new beta/writing partner but a wonderful friend, Que Drew. Her unceasing encouragement and support has given me what I needed to not only finish this one up, but several other stories; I've been more productive in the last six months than I have been in the last two and half years. So all hail the brilliant Que Drew! She is quite the writer herself, so if you want to read some fab SSHG, do check her out over at AO3.
Alas, I am woefully behind in responding to the reviews from this last chapter, and am working on them now. Know that they mean the world to me and what inspires me to keep writing! My thanks to lunarose87, HGranger89 ZoeyOlivia, stexgirl2000, MrsHJSnape, ConstanceScully, Readr4life, Taniadanoff, SarahF, maritinkerbell, Basikilos, houstonclay, RhodaBush, viola1701e, , Onyx Obsidian, Kailin, Poledne, AlouetteL, MoonlitSnowFox, hbooks , Cbuchanan, MHS1986 , Free2BMe1, Sheyla Snape, bredal, HMRoberts, Kat451, mysteriousmissessnape, Blue night fairy, marzipan4 , Christev, luv4edwardcullen, MichAre1a, starlite22, and several guests.
On the plus side of this lengthy delay, I ended writing an 18,000-word chapter to replace what was lost, so you lovely readers will get the epilogue to this story tomorrow (no, really. you will!). Also, being the season of writing fests, I would encourage you to google the SSHG gift fest, which is currently posting, as well as the Snapecase Fest, both on LJ. You'll find some really wonderful stories there, many of which don't get reposted here. As always, happy reading and thanks for sticking with me!