Author's Note: Sometimes things just show up when it's 3am and you can't sleep. :)
God, it had been so long.
Why had it been so long?
He knew why. Too many reasons.
But now he stood on the sand, boots dangling idly from his fingers. His trousers were rolled up to his knees, exposing his hairy, skinny, pale legs to any passersby or gawking sunbathers. He didn't care.
Well, maybe he cared a little as the surf splattered the hem of his coat with flecks of white. But when the water dragged back out to sea, his feet sinking deeper into the wet sand, he couldn't be arsed to care.
Severus closed his eyes, smelling the salt and sun, committing the feel of the ocean pulling at his ankles to memory.
He'd last been here when he was a child, in what was possibly the one good time he could recall. Going to the seaside as a holiday wasn't really feasible, but his mum had tried. Made it special. Sent his father off to work and made a day of it.
It had been March, cold and windy, but that hadn't stopped him from chasing the waves along the sand. She'd brought her wand out of the house, hitting him with a surreptitious warming charm. Looking back, the charm had been weak, a sign of her failing magic. But that day? It had been glorious. His mother had done magic for him.
It had been one of the few happy memories.
The air now was just as sharp, whipping his thin hair across the sharp angles of his face. It felt like freedom.
It was freedom.
With the last of the rogue Death Eaters and Voldemort loyalists finally in custody, six years and three months after the "final battle", he was finally free.
No more aiding the Aurors. No more random ransacking of his little potions shop to "ensure he hadn't backslid". No more hiding his personal life in fear of it being exploited or hurt.
As if summoned by that thought, footsteps sloshed next to him and a small, warm hand slid into his.
"I thought I'd find you here," she murmured.
His thin lips curved upwards. She knew him so well. "I wasn't hiding."
"No," Hermione agreed. He could only imagine what the Muggles thought of them, the tall strange man in dark clothing standing alone in the surf mostly dressed and the curvy, wild-haired woman who'd dared to approach him.
He wondered what the Wizarding World would think when their relationship—two years and eight months old—came out.
Hermione stood next to him, waiting. She'd also taken off her shoes, but left them on the sand with her bag. She'd shoved her hair up haphazardly and secured it with a stylo some hours ago, but the wind was doing a rather effective job at ruining it.
She was set to hand her resignation in to the Ministry. She preferred sitting in Severus's shop, helping chop and stir—and handing the customers so he didn't scare them all off—over court dates. She'd filed all the proper papers for the prosecution. She was done.
He had wanted to keep this—them—secret. To protect her, he'd said, though they both knew she could more than handle herself. Still, she was done hiding in the shadows, waiting.
Sea foam clung to her legs with every wave, sand painting patterns on her skin. The overcast day was peaceful, reminding her of their fourteenth date when he'd walked with her along the cliffs above and told her how he'd been once, how it had meant so much to him.
It had been the third time he'd confided in her, but the first time it had been so deeply personal. She'd been to the sea often as a child, and when she'd offered to walk along the sand with him, he'd been surprised but refused.
He wanted to wait, he said. Til he was free. Free like the child he'd been on that one afternoon.
"I wrote my resignation," she said finally, watching the waves along the horizon.
His eyes opened and he turned to her. God, she loved how dark his lashes were, how they framed the expressive eyes that captivated her.
"Did you now?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Did you send it?"
"Not yet." Was that disappointment she saw before it was gone? "I'm waiting to see if you still want to hide me away."
"Don't sound bitter." He turned towards her now, letting go of her hand to tilt her chin up so he could watch her face. "I wanted you safe. From the Death Eaters and over-zealous Aurors who would think I corrupted you."
"Now who's bitter?" she joked. His hand fell back to his side. Even Harry had taken the news of their relationship well.
"Me," Severus replied seriously. "I had thought my time was done, only to add more years to my service."
"But you're free now." Hermione cupped his cheek and he leaned unconsciously into her touch. She stroked her thumb along his cheekbone.
"We're free," he corrected. "Send your resignation in. Spend your days at my shop without a glamour. Stay with me every night."
"Marry me," Hermione said in reply, smiling. The sun peeked out between the clouds at that moment, catching on the various shades of brown and gold in her mad hair.
Severus froze, then dipped his head. "Hermione..."
"Marry me," she whispered. He could feel her breath along his lips. "Live with me. Work with me. I never want to be hidden again, Severus. I never want to wait for you again. I never want to be separate again."
"And you won't." His head dipped impossibly lower. His eyes were liquid and she knew he was hers.
"I need an answer." She wanted to kiss him, but needed to hear his reply more. The hook of his nose bumped gently against her cheek. "Out loud."
"Yes," he breathed against her mouth, and finally he kissed her, his arms holding her tightly as his boots disappeared into the ocean like an offering.
She tasted like freedom.