A/N: I've gotten so many requests for a next chapter that I wrote a quick one... thanks SO MUCH for the positive reviews! This contains the explanations; more chapters to come involving more of the primal forces at work here. It's not all going to be angst, I promise, and there are more surprising twists and turns in store.

PLEASE NOTE: Hermione CAN speak. She is unsure of herself and embarrassed, so she chooses not to. You'll see how she overcomes this later. Please review, but read to the end before you do...all will be made clear!

If you haven't read the backstory, Serving Justice, I highly recommend that you do so now.

*~*~*~*

"James, darling, do you want to come visit Draco and me out at the manor?" Narcissa said, ruffling the tyke's hair. "We'll go fishing and all the fun things. What do you say?"

"Will Uncle Remus be there?"

"Of course, James," Remus said.

"May I go, Mother?" Hermione nodded, signing her acceptance with a grateful smile in Narcissa's direction.

"Then it's settled. Let's be off, my young man." Remus took Narcissa's arm and Hermione's son's hand, and after Hermione placed a kiss on James's cheek, took the boy safely away from the firestorm that surely was about to happen. Remus was quite worried about leaving this mess behind, no doubts about that, but it was best to give the two erstwhile lovers the space they'd need to deal with the fallout.

He wasn't so much worried about Hermione, to be frank. Severus was a much bigger problem. His refusal to hear anything about Hermione over the years would surely be hitting the old bastard quite hard right now.

After James had gone with his adoptive aunt and uncle, Hermione decided there was no time like the present to bring her former lover up to speed. They couldn't run from each other now, and she'd known when she accepted the appointment at Hogwarts against her better judgment that this awful day would come. She was quite prepared to be detached, clinical, and professional in demeanor as she explained how it was that she had kept such intense secrets from him. She wasn't about to show any weakness.

Besides, she thought wryly, it's not like his sarcasm can affect me anymore. I can't hear it.

She took the familiar path down into the dungeons, clutching several unread, unanswered letters for him to read. It would be easier than dragging Dobby downstairs to interpret for her as she told the story.

Dobby had gone to live with Hermione after she had informed Dumbledore of the pregnancy. Not only had he been a great help to her as she raised her baby son, but they had learned to sign together so that he could be her interpreter, which had allowed her to continue unhindered in her professional career. She rarely taught after the accident, of course, because Dobby was…well, he was not the most easily understood house-elf in the pack. But she happily paid him good wages and gave him Sundays off, and that was all that really mattered to him. She had been put in administration after the accident; Dobby's assistance had served her well in that role.

He had kept her secrets, and watched her cry her heart out, and done his part to keep her sanity intact. It was nearly impossible to remember a time when the little fellow actually belonged to Lucius Malfoy.

Her Spirit clucked in her direction as Headmistress Granger stood outside Professor Snape's door, faltering as she tried to come up with the right course of action at this moment. It had seemed so simple from a distance, but now she was truly faced with him. She tried to put on a mask of steel, and knocked.

The door flew open as if he had been standing there with a hand on the knob. He gestured towards the right chair in front of the fireplace and stalked over to the left himself with his hands running through his hair.

She handed him the parchments from years past, and sat back, staring carefully at a spot on the floor. She knew him well enough to know how much guilt and pain this act was about to cause him. She hoped she could help him through it somehow, even as a tiny part of her thought that maybe he deserved it, just a little bit.

November 22, 2002

It has now been two months since the last time we saw each other. Just for the record, I haven't stopped loving you. It would be nice to not bear that burden anymore, but I can't seem to overcome.

I have some news to share. I know it won't make you happy; as you so eloquently said as you slagged me off, you're not looking for picket fences in life. Be that as it may, you've given me a gift. I am expecting a child.

He or she will join the world in June. I don't expect you to come running to New York for my hand in marriage; I don't expect financial support. Frankly, I don't expect you to even claim this child. While I confess it would be lovely if you exceeded my expectations, I wouldn't dream of even considering that it might be likely.

I have all the help I need. The ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt has been haunting my office lately – did you know she was a fine Potions Mistress in her day? It's incredible how much the English magical history texts leave out. She comes home with me on occasion for girl talk. I relish her company, as it keeps me from just sitting here talking to myself.

I leave the door open to you in case you suddenly find paternal instincts. I won't be holding my breath, of course.

I suppose I sound a little bitter, but you probably don't have any idea how much my heart broke the day you left. The Spirit bubbles to me that I should come after you and force you back into my life, but I'm simply not a groveler.

I will of course inform you of the baby's birth statistics for your records.

Hermione

He looked up at her, and felt a lump in his throat. This letter was just like that woman from the past, with a dose of wounded pride and practical self-preservation. He wondered if she was the same person inside today.

She hadn't stopped staring at the floor. He picked up the next parchment.

June 6, 2003

Dear Severus,

I am pleased to announce the birth of our son, James Severus Granger. He was born June 5 at the Spirit Birthing Center in Murray Hill, not too far from my place. I thought that was an appropriate choice given the name of the establishment. Eleanor was there with me when he was born, and it was she that suggested James as a strong first name. Naturally, Harry is going to be tickled.

Everything is fine with the baby. He seems to have my eyes and your hair. I'm not sure whether that's really a bargain for him.

Giving birth to this child was the most miraculous experience ever. Half the time I cursed you in my pain (much to Eleanor's mirth and delight), but after he entered the world and looked at me for the first time, I fell in love with you all over again. I confess that this is a moment of weakness. I wish you were here, holding your infant son. As I nurse him, I can see you in him, especially when he closes his eyes to drift off to sleep. I know this entire letter is quite nauseating…I can see your reaction now.

Considering that you returned my last letter unread, I am not sure if this will penetrate Fortress Snape, but I've done my duty. If indeed you are weak and read this as well, you're quite welcome to visit us in the City. We've moved into a slightly larger flat closer to Madison Avenue and 33rd, but still in the same neighborhood. At some point when the tyke starts to wish to play outside, I think we'll move to Brooklyn. We'll make sure that we don't get a place with a white picket fence.

With love and gratitude for what you've given me,

Hermione

He was beginning to feel sick and wasn't sure if he should continue. His old friends, Guilt and Shame, were sitting on his shoulders cackling at him for being a total prat for seven long years. His best friend Anger sat in his lap, telling him that he should be extremely upset with all their friends and with her for keeping the truth from him and confronting him with a six-year old child so long after the fact. His well-worn acquaintance Regret tapped him on the arm, reminding him that he was the one who had chosen this path and stubbornly clung to it when confronted with multiple opportunities to change things.

The next one. A picture fell out of this letter, showing a chubby, waving baby of about a year in age gurgling contentedly.

May 3, 2004

Dear Severus,

I don't know why I'm bothering to write this as I know you'll just return it unread, but for my own conscience it seems necessary. Besides, the Spirit grows ever restless in the search for Her Companion; She knows my reasons for not confronting you, but that doesn't mean that she makes it easy for me. If it wasn't for the baby, Dobby, and Eleanor, I'd have gone quite mad.

James turns one next month. He is a joy and delight and quite precocious. I have a sneaking suspicion that you'd be proud of him, despite yourself. I've enclosed a photo.

You're invited to his birthday party. If you are so inclined, just contact me and I'll give you directions to the new place in Brooklyn Heights.

I hope you are well. I haven't stopped thinking about you daily; the Spirit sees to it, unfortunately.

Hermione

He wasn't sure how much more of this utterly dreadful trip down What Could Have Been Lane he could take, but a look at her made him realize that he had to finish the whole bloody exercise before she'd be gone. Once again, he was stifling an urge to take her in his arms and kiss the pain away. He stubbornly put on the cloak of Unfeeling Old Bastard, and pressed on.

October 1, 2005

Dear Severus,

Remember Neville Longbottom?

I had a student that was very similar to Neville in my class this term. Sadly, instead of taking your approach of being horrible to and hard on him, I gave him extra time to complete assignments, extra assistance after class, and generally was sickeningly Gryffindor about him. I learned nothing from you after all, I guess.

Six days ago, I had the boy after class working on a simple auditory enhancement potion that he had mangled in class. I sat at my desk marking papers as he worked in silence.

Before I knew what was happening, the boy's cauldron exploded. I cannot imagine what ingredient he would have had to have added to make that happen.

At any rate, the boy died in the explosion. I lived, of course, but I have a permanent hearing impairment. His potion apparently had the opposite effect that was intended. No one can seem to reverse the effects of this potion, either by foolish wand waving or potions or Muggle medicine. The nerves from my ears to my auditory processing center are apparently completely destroyed, as if they never existed.

Eleanor tries to help me see that things sometimes just happen, and there is nothing you can do to change or stop it. I don't know how true that is. That gets me thinking about destiny and fate, and then I get a headache. It's never all that good to have ghosts around when you wish to be down on yourself.

Somehow, I was absolved of responsibility in the matter in the official inquiry. I can't help but feel that if I were supervising the boy rather than using his time to mark papers, this would not have happened. I feel so alone. I'm certain my student's parents are feeling much the same way.

I'll never hear my sweet child's voice again.

I know you won't read this given past indications, but I needed to get this all out on paper. I miss you and wish that you and I weren't so stubborn.

Hermione

Now, the wheels were turning in his head. He refused to believe there was no way to counteract the effects of that potion. American Potions Masters were notoriously short-sighted and gave up too easily, and don't get him started on Muggle doctors.

He looked at her again and saw that she could see his train of thought. She shook her head sadly at him. Naturally, she would have worked on a cure herself. Still, this gave him some vague redemption to hope for.

He didn't pause to consider that apparently all these years in the company of Gryffindors was turning him into one. He tried to tell himself that he wouldn't be doing it out of kindness, but because he would need a challenge to avoid the reality of dealing with a six-year old child calling him Daddy. On that queasy note, he continued.

January 8, 2009

I haven't written you in several long years, mainly because I know it's rather pointless.

I just wanted to let you know that Dumbledore has offered me his former position. I haven't decided whether to accept it.

I've been happy here in New York. My house-elf, Dobby – you remember him, don't you? – has been a wonderful companion and interpreter for me. Our brilliant son has done well here and is just full of the Spirit. I've been haunted by the ghost of one of the more outstanding, self-assured women in history, and I think I'm the better for it. But, I confess a longing for my home in England. I visit there now and again, as I'm sure you must know. I stay with Harry in London, the Weasleys, and Narcissa and Draco on a fairly frequent basis. They tell me you refuse to speak of me or hear of me, so I guess they've kept my secrets well.

Draco and Harry would love nothing more for me to return, so they can have their little Spirit-brother around. They've been so good with him, and have given him something that was missing from both of their childhoods…adoring male father figures who want nothing from him but happiness. Ironic, isn't it, that the boy has so many adult males caring for him deeply and yet I've kept his own father from him. I've been so foolish, and I hope one day you'll forgive my deception, for his sake.

I know that if I accept the position, this whole situation will come crashing down around us. I know you'll blame me outwardly while cursing yourself inwardly. I know you so well, even though I haven't seen you in seven years.

Severus, I want you to not beat yourself up. I could have dragged our child to Hogwarts and beat down your door till you accepted him. I could have come to you at any time, but I refused to manipulate the situation. You return my owls unread, and refuse to speak of me to our friends. I would not have you return to me out of pity or shame. I've managed to live the last seven years without you, and while I confess the Spirit doesn't share my views and seems to live to make me bitter, I would go on the rest of my life without you if it was what you wanted. Notice that I'm qualifying that. I haven't allowed myself the luxury to think about what I would want.

However, just for the record. I still love you with all my heart. I've been furious with you, sad for you, sad for myself, and a whole host of other emotions over the years. But I've never been able to bring myself to love someone else – God knows that men have tried, but the Spirit won't stand for it. And, I suppose, I won't either. As someone once said, you can't take love off and on like socks.

I feel certain we'll be seeing each other this year. I hope it won't be too much of a shock for you.

Love, Hermione

He put down the final parchment, and looked at her again, really seeing her for the first time since she returned. He cleared his throat, but wasn't sure what to say. The words came almost unbidden to his lips.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

She nodded in understanding. Really, she supposed, this was better than she could have hoped for. An admission of regret on his part was an extraordinary occasion, so she understood that it was heartfelt.

"I confess it will take me some time to get used to this, but I am very curiously not as upset as I should be. Besides, you did try to tell me, and I foolishly refused to listen. I am intrigued. Another living Child of the Order, and one that deserves a proper upbringing, is something to not take lightly. I'm beginning to understand much of that Irish bat's dialogue with me this morning."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. She took out a notebook, and scribbled:

The Mother Superior? She was here?

"Oh yes, calling me all kinds of names, most of which were deserved. But she did remind me of my responsibility, which I have too long shirked. As much as I distrust and dislike your Spirit, I have to acknowledge its existence."

Yes, and the fact that She hasn't given up on you. Believe me, it would be easier if She had.

"I suppose that's true."

Hermione chewed on her lip for a moment, and then wrote, We have much to discuss about our working relationship. I'll bring Dobby tomorrow to my office at noon. Can you meet me there?

Secretly, he was glad that she had turned the topic away from the emotional realm, because he literally was fighting the revolting urge with all his being to simply hold her. He had no claim or right to do that now, after all that had happened, but the feelings were there nonetheless.

Revolting that he couldn't pin any this business on her, but he supposed he had mellowed some with age. Disgusting, really.

Lupin, on the other hand, was going to get a piece of his mind the second he could corner the bastard.

"I'll see you at noon." He stood up with her, and walked to the door. She turned to face him with an old, familiar sad smile.

He simply couldn't stop himself. He put his arms around her, and held her as the tears came. How long they stood there feeling pain for themselves, each other, what could have been and what might be to come, neither was certain. At length, she disengaged herself from his arms and fled into the safety of the night.