Scotland was dotted with small villages, full of wizards and Muggles alike. Plenty of them had managed to come together, the crusade against witchcraft ending early. After all, having a magical Healer in town helped everyone, and as long as Death Eaters and the like stayed out, many of the towns were fine with witches and wizards living openly among them. It was on the outskirts of one of these tiny villages that a little house was suddenly occupied, complete with a garden that seemed to spring up overnight.

It wasn't far from the cliffside, a winding path bringing anyone curious enough to venture out there to a hidden rocky beach. A massive window overlooked the ocean, warmed by a fireplace that was constantly burning. Sometimes a couple of cauldrons were hung there, simmering late into the evening. The sitting room led into a kitchen that the occupants of the house got great use of. A guest bedroom sat empty off of the kitchen. They rarely had guests, and when they did, they apparated away before long. It was nothing against them, just the fact that only a few people knew that they lived there, let alone knew they were alive. A wooden staircase led upstairs to a bedroom, bookended by two offices. If anyone happened to go through them, they would find a veritable library of Potions books in one and every Defense Against the Dark Arts treatise in existence neatly catalogued in the other.

The occupants of the house ventured into town once a week. They would pick up groceries, but they often stopped in curious little shops that sold things marketed to witches, wizards, potioneers, people that the Muggle occupants of the village appreciated but didn't always understand. They would smile to their neighbors, the man who so often dressed in black stopping by a list of homes to drop off mysterious vials of liquid that usually tasted awful but cured everything from the common cold to the strangest case of Dragon Pox the town had ever seen. The woman with him was always sure to stop at the post office, where owls would drop off books that she had ordered from the wizarding stores across the country.

The townspeople would smile at the sight of them, knowing they desperately loved each other. When they weren't walking hand-in-hand, they were carrying piles of books or bags of groceries, making it impossible. Though none of the onlookers would ever see how they were constantly by each other's sides at home, they knew they were inseparable. Despite the dreadful nightmares, the flashbacks to both wars, the abject terror they would find themselves in at times, they would always gravitate back to one another. They were each other's sense of stability, the thing that kept them grounded when all they could see was the battlefield that Hogwarts had turned into, the apparent hopelessness of the Shrieking Shack, or the dozens of Death Eater hideouts that spelled despair for both Auror and Death Eater alike.

Most of the time the two of them stayed close to the little house, diligently working away but spending every evening together. Every few years one of them would publish another textbook, writing under fake names that they adopted from Muggles in the town. They kept an extensive garden, filled with ordinary herbs and magical wonders that even most wizards had never heard of. It was a beautiful place to live, and they were happy there by the seaside.

As time wore on, the man appeared in town wearing less dour colors. He still preferred black robes, though he eventually branched out into grays, dark purples, forest green, and a unique shade of blue that he wore whenever a Ravenclaw Quidditch game was coming up, though not if they were facing Slytherin. He'd begrudgingly changed, even if it was because he was trying to blend in, or at least not arouse too much suspicion about his real identity. But eventually he got comfortable with it, much to Hazel's surprise.

"I don't know how I feel about it," Sev said, staring into the mirror. He'd cut his hair shorter as one part of his disguise as a normal wizard, whatever that was. He'd been checking in the mirror all day, still unsure despite all of Hazel's promises that she liked it.

"I think you look great. You can grow it out again once the publicity dies down. As long as it was... it was just too recognizable. Just be glad I didn't make you dye it blond. I can't imagine you walking around looking like Lucius Malfoy, though... I don't think it would suit you. Not at all," Hazel smiled, getting up to give him a kiss. "We should probably get you some more clothes that aren't just varying shades of black, though. And some more Muggle clothes."

"I look like that Muggle actor you're such a fan of," he frowned, checking the mirror once more. "The one your aunt said I looked like forever ago? The one who was in the Prophet again when Rita Skeeter wrote her book?" Both of them had voraciously read Rita Skeeter's book, Hazel sending an annotated copy to Rita with all of her corrections. Nothing would come of it, but she felt better telling the awful woman that she knew how much she'd made up.

Pulling him over to where she was sitting, Hazel assured him that, "You look even better than he does. Besides, I bet he's incredibly pretentious, with all that Shakespeare and theatre and the like."

"And all that charity work? And the politics? And all the other wonderful things?" He wrapped his arms around her, thinking that they had better keep unpacking.

Apparently Hazel had the same idea. "He may be a good person, but you're my good person. My favorite person. My unofficial fiance and my perfect Half-Blood Prince. Now why don't we start setting up my library, my incredibly wonderful prince who can definitely help me levitate a few cases of books up the stairs?"

Sunlight streamed into the room, waking both of them up. They hadn't gotten used to the sunshine on the coast yet, so they were usually up earlier than they wanted to be. Sev opened his eyes first, smiling at Hazel, who was curled up next to him. She was wearing one of his shirts, which she'd stolen the night before after finding it in a box from Spinner's End that they'd yet to fully unpack. "Good morning, darling." He kissed the top of her head as Hazel began to stir.

"G'morning," she yawned.

"Can I ask you something?"

Still tired, she ran a hand through her hair, combing strands of red out of her face. "Only if I can ask you something too." He was clearly more awake than she was. If she had been any more awake, she would've noticed the undercurrent of nervousness in his voice.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

That made her smile. "Because I got cold."

"I wasn't keeping you warm enough?"

"Okay, I just wanted to," Hazel laughed. "I'd do it all the time before... before you were back. It usually made me feel a little better. My turn." Raising an eyebrow, he waited. "Are you happy?"

He was a little taken aback. "Am I happy?" he repeated with a frown. "What - why -"

"You had moments of being happy before, but there was always so much to worry about, even when we were kids, always looking over our shoulders for James and Sirius. And then we graduated into the war and... You deserve to be happy, Sev, like really, genuinely happy for more than a couple of hours at a time."

"I am," he promised, leaning in to give her a kiss. "You make me happier than I've ever been. You know... I'd snap my wand in half and throw it into the ocean right now if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you. My turn."

She was a bit puzzled about why he was suddenly so serious. "Sev -"

"That wasn't a question, and you only get one at a time. It's still my turn." He held his breath, preparing for a question he'd been thinking about for a while now. He'd been mulling over how to ask even before the Battle of Hogwarts. Afterwards he'd shoved it out of his mind, at least until she was back there with him. Ever since they'd properly started moving in together, he'd been thinking about it again. But he woke up that morning to see her dozing in the sunlight and knew he didn't need to put together an elaborate plan. They weren't elaborate people. It was a simple question in a simple place, just as it should be. Besides, they'd agreed before. Nevertheless he felt like he was going to be sick as he asked. "Will you marry me?"

Hazel sat up in bed, staring at him in shock. A slow smile spread over her face as she realized that she had heard him right. "Severus Snape, say that again." She reached out, taking his face in her hands. "Please. I want to hear it again."

"Hazel Amelia Ashmore, the most wonderful, brilliant, kind, forgiving, absolutely lovely witch I've ever met, will you marry me?"

She dropped back down so she could kiss him, unable to contain how much she was smiling as they broke apart. "Yes. I - Sev - yes." He reached over to the table beside their bed, pulling something out of the drawer. He'd hidden it long enough. Hazel marveled at the glittering ring, holding her hand up to the sunlight. "It's beautiful." She reached out for him, holding her hand to his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him again. "I love you, Sev."

"I love you too."

They spent much of the morning just laying there together, holding onto each other and wondering aloud how they got that lucky. In that moment, everything else was forgotten. There were no Death Eaters and no Order of the Phoenix, no Voldemort or Harry Potter and no trail of horrors in their pasts. It was just the two of them, the two of them looking out into a bright and hopeful future. Exactly the way they wanted it to be.

A.N.: Picture Sinclair Bryant, but with black hair. It's a look and I think Sev could rock it. At least while he's in hiding, because no one would expect it.