The summer days seemed to sail by. In the mornings they would work in the labs and afternoons were spent resting. The days were hot and Hermione liked to spend the warmest parts napping or laying out by the pool. Nights were either spent back in the lab or reading in the library or sometimes going to down for dinner. They'd spent nearly three weeks in Italy by the time Hermione decided to write to her friends like she'd promised on the last day of school. They sat in the kitchen – the coolest place in the house – and were quietly working on their own little projects. Hermione had several clean bits of parchment and a fresh bottle of ink laid out in front of her. Severus was doing the crossword in the Daily Prophet. He was very good at them and it was a game he didn't feel silly playing. Hermione decided to write Harry first. He knew about Severus and knew to be discreet. She didn't know why she didn't want to tell Ron but she knew he wouldn't understand and she was afraid their friendship would buckle when he heard.

She described to him the house – how fine it was and how it suited their needs so well – how in a perfect world this summer would never end and they would never leave. She described the grapes (just starting to emerge on the vine) and the blue sky and how Severus was an excellent tennis player (when he cheated) and how she was tan, actually tan as was he, something Harry would never believe.

"Are you writing him a novel?" Severus asked, finally, peering at her tiny, crammed writing on the parchment which was quickly filling up.

"No." she said, glaring.

"Ahh, you write long, flowery letters pontificating on the weather, don't you?" he asked, nailing her in one. She scowled at him and did not answer. He took that as a yes, and went back to his puzzle. She finished the letter telling Harry that Severus was being a prat and that she had to go. It was something he would understand. She addressed the letter and set it aside and pulled a fresh sheet in front of her. Time to write her parents. They didn't know about Severus either but she felt compelled to tell them she was seeing someone. Her mother hinted towards grandchildren all the time, afraid her daughter's bookworm personality would never herald offspring. It was true, though, that Hermione hadn't really ever had a proper boyfriend. There was Viktor Krum of course but that romance fizzled rather rapidly into a pen pal and then nothing when he'd told her writing so frequently to a muggle born was hurting his professional qudditch star image. And then Ron – an awkward three weeks one summer. She'd stayed at the burrow and his kisses her sloppy and finally she told him that she'd much rather be friends. He'd been hurt but found a Hufflepuff to ease his wounds with relative speed. There had been that muggle boy, too, yes but that was no relationship – more of a science experiment.

And then there was now, there was Severus who'd been evil for six and a half years and then appeared one night in a tower and carried her to her bed and invited her into his chambers and had the most beautiful expression of wonder when she'd climbed on top of him that first time, her clothes in a pile – her knickers wrecked – panting like an animal. Severus who woke her up by kissing her neck in just the right way. Severus who could do things with his tongue that she thought might be illegal, they felt so good. Severus, who was twice her age. Severus who had known her when she was 11. Severus who was watching her with a sort of hungry expression as she ran her feather quill along her bottom lip deep in thought.

"I shall have to go see my parents soon." she said, breaking the trance she'd unknowingly put him in.

"For how long?" he asked. His parents had been dead a long time now and it was a chore he'd forgotten about, the obligatory visit.

"A few days, a week at most." she said. "I've not told them about you."

"I imagine not." he said, not offended.

"We leave in a week?" she asked, looking wistfully out the window where she could see a summer storm on the horizon. It would rain tonight.

"I'd planned to." he said.

"Me too." she sighed though. "I love it here." he smiled at her.

"I'm pleased to share it with you." he said. "Hermione, if you wish to keep me from your parents, I won't be offended."

"No." she said, though she did wish to keep him from them. "But I think I'll tell them in person." she said. She scribbled out a quick note telling them she'd be home in two weekends and that she missed them. She'd apparate to the owl post in the town in the morning. "You are invited to come with me if you'd like to meet them." she said.

"Absolutely not." he said.

"I thought as much." she said. She couldn't imagine standing on her parent's neat front porch with the tall black potions masters staring dourly at the pastel muggle couple who opened the door to greet their baby girl. She could just imagine telling them that she'd started the relationship before she was even graduated… no, it would be a long while before those three ever came face to face and that is only if she and Severus lasted. She hoped they would. She though about his outburst so early in their stay. It'd not happened again but he held her closer in that grey time between day and night. "I do insist you come to the party at the burrow." she said, feeling brave.

"Party?" he sneered.

"Yes, every end of July. The Weasleys hold a party for all the summer birthdays. Harry and Ginny, mostly, but whoever else cares to attend." she said. "You said that you weren't ashamed to be with me." she reminded him.

"I'm not, but that shouldn't mean I have to subject myself to an afternoon of torture to celebrate someone I don't even like!" he said but he knew it was a losing battle.

"Severus…"

"I'll think about it." he muttered.

Hermione was sad to leave the Italian house. They packed and readied themselves for the trip back to Hogwarts. Hermione had the irrational fear that once this blissfully peaceful holiday ended the spell they were under would break and he would want nothing more to do with her. Or she would leave to visit her parents and come back and he would be gone – off to bigger and better things leaving her to waste away lonely in the castle. She'd spent years wishing for his demise and now she couldn't imagine those hallowed halls without him. He looked at her just as they were about to step in the fireplace back in the servant's kitchen.

"Hermione, love, what's wrong?" he asked, noting her pale face. She looked as if she were going to be sick.

"Make love to me. Once more before we go." she said, already undoing the buttons of her blouse. Italian silk in a pale green that suited her summer tan. He'd bought it for her the day before.

"Now?" he asked, looking at their shoddy surroundings.

"Please." she said. "I need you once more right now." she was hiking up her skirt and pushing down her knickers – a wisp of black lace. He'd bought those, too.

"Hermione." he said, watching her push up onto the kitchen table and lay back, waiting for him. He could see the tears brimming at her eyes. She looked scared. He supposed that if he got one nervous breakdown in Italy, she was allowed one as well. He went over to her and gathered her in his arms, pulling her skirt back down. "What do you think is going to happen once we leave here?" he asked.

"I know exactly what's going to happen." she sniffed. "You're going to realize that I'm the same insufferable know-it-all I've always been."

"I've not forgotten that you're an insufferable know-it-all yet I still want you and I'm not going to stop wanting you just because there is a change of scenery." he assured her.

"I'm silly." she said. "I'm a silly girl. I can't believe you love me." she said, giving him a watery smile.

"But I do." he said, helping her straighten herself out and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They went into the fireplace together.

The castle was still mostly empty, everyone still away. She did feel a little comforted by the familiar castle though and now that she was actually back and Severus was still walking with his hand on the small of her back, her fears seemed unfounded. They definitely needed to work on trust. He deposited her at her room, the portrait of the dancing couple now firmly in place as her entrance. It was much better, the slow twirl of them in the moonlight. He kissed her cheek and told her he was going to be in the dungeons. Told her she should come down later when she was settled and he was settled and they were used to the Scottish country side once more. In her room, she unpacked her luggage and sent all her things to be cleaned by the elves. Everything was still white and she spent the afternoon changing her décor to the warm sepia tones that reminded her of the Italian house.

Soon she was packing again and kissing Severus goodbye and going home for a few days. She was wary to be away from him. Things had been good since their return to Hogwarts a week ago. Dumbledore had returned to the castle later that night and had dinner with them along with Professors Flitwick, Vector, and Sprout who, if they had opinions on the comfortable behavior between Hermione and Snape, said nothing. She liked the acceptance. Now would she find it at home? She apparated to Diagon alley and took the underground home. She stood on her front porch and rang the bell though it would have been perfectly acceptable for her to just walk in. Her father answered the door and hugged her and her mother came and hugged her and there was much hugging before she even made it inside the house. They watched her unshrink her luggage in her childhood bedroom – pink with a twin bed – and her mother fed her dinner and they made small talk before finally, over wine, she told them about Severus.

"I'm seeing someone." she said. Her mother looked immediately enthralled.

"Who?" she asked. "Do we know him?"

"Or her." her father added, without tact. Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not gay." she told her dad, not for the first time.

"Well, we'd love you if you were." he said, sounding unconvinced.

"Thanks, but he is a wizard." she said. Her parents showed slight signs of disappointment but no surprise.

"From Hogwarts?" her mother asked.

"Yes." she said, carefully. "I don't think there is any delicate way to put this." she said. "His name is Severus Snape. He's the potions master at Hogwarts." Her father, a champion in denial, smiled.

"A new teacher, like you?" he asked. Her mother who wasn't quite as daft was frowning now.

"No." Hermione said.

"Wait a minute, are you dating a man who was your professor?" her mother asked, stern now.

"Yes." she said. "He's not my professor now, though. We're colleagues."

"And just how old is this Mr. Snake?" her father asked, botching the name in the most comical way.

"Older." she said. She was starting to tire of defending him already. "I'm an adult now and I can see whomever I please." she reminded them.

"We know, we know, we just want what's best for you." her mother snapped. "I just think it's quite inappropriate for teachers to date students." her eyes widened. "This all happened after your graduation, correct?" she asked. Hermione nodded, lying smoothly. She was not a good liar on principal except when it came to explaining Hogwarts to her parents. How do you explain such a glorious place and the things that went on there to a pair of muggle dentists? How did she explain the danger she was in almost constantly since her first day and how did she correctly describe how the war was always looming, how bloody the battles were but how different they were from muggle wars. How Voldemort and the turmoil in the wizarding world had such a blatant effect on muggle warfare? If a war well and truly broke out it would affect everyone, not just wizards.

"He's a good man." she said, "He loves me." Her parents nodded and went back to their treacle tart, quiet. Later, in her room, she changed into one of her more modest nightgowns and crawled into the seemingly tiny bed that had once been hers. There were still her Strawberry Shortcake sheets and her checkered bedspread and her poster Dr. Who (her dark little secret) and all her young adult books that she'd deemed to childish to take to school and her stuffed animals in a basket in her closet full of clothes that no longer fit and should have been given away long ago. Her bedside lamp was on and she had a book on the bed next to her but things looked eerie and unnatural under electric lights. Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world didn't use electricity – it was a wholly muggle invention. She felt out of place now reaching up to twist the knob of the lamp instead of whispering "nox" to kill the lights. She didn't feel as if she belonged to this world. She hadn't felt like she belonged in the wizarding world either until recently. Until Severus. If the head of Slytherin – as purebred as they come – could accept Hermione then anyone could. Not everyone would, of course, but even though she brought Severus down in social status, he did bring her up. A silly thing to worry about but the wizarding world was much more old fashioned than muggles. Her room was quiet and dark and smelled familiar. She missed his arms around her but it didn't take long to fall asleep.

After three days of her parents, she returned to school. She loved them but a weekend was more than enough. Severus wasn't expecting her back for another two days and she wanted to surprise him. It was she who got the surprise to find him gone. His rooms looked normal – his bed was unmade and a few papers were out of place. The lab was empty. It looked like the house elves hadn't yet come through that morning – there was a tea service left on the table. She suddenly had a horrible feeling. Something was wrong. She could almost feel magic in the air – the sizzle of it and the burst smell that she associated with dark magic. She shucked off her cloak and grabbed her wand and made her way toward Dumbledore's office. She didn't make it before she ran into Dobby.

"Hermione Granger!" he shrieked, throwing himself around her legs. The little elf was sobbing and shaking.

"Dobby, what's happened?" she demanded.

"So awful." he continued, creating a big, wet stain on her robes from tears.

"Dobby, where is Severus?" she yelled again, impatient with his display.

"The dark lord has risen, has risen." Dobby cried. "At Hogwarts." She was about to ask for more when she heard it. The casting of hexes, the distinct whizzing of spells shooting from the end of wands. She had come back early to the middle of the battle. The final battle, perhaps. She'd apparated to Hogsmeade and flooed back instead of apparating to the gates. Hogsmeade had seemed deserted but she'd not given it a second thought figuring most people were on holiday as she had been. Now she kicked Dobby off her and ran towards the noise. The closer she came to the great hall, to the front doors of the school, the more people she came across. Bodies, more, the life that made them people gone. Fallen death eaters, fallen professors. She tried not to look at the familiar faces. The small form of Flitwick, what looked to be Percy Weasley, a death eater still in his silver, faceless mask. Oh god.

She had to find Severus. The doors were open and she could see the flashes of light on the lawn. She could see the forms of people all moving slowly, fighting towards one central spot. Lord Voldemort. Part of her wanted to run out screaming, wand blazing but she knew that would be stupid. No one knew she was here. She had to be stealthy for she was a secret weapon. She started shooting spells in to the back of death eaters. She was quiet and effective. She'd come up behind death eaters, not behind the light. They'd already taken the school, pushing the light side further from the castle, deeper toward the forbidden forest.

She felt the urge to use an unforgivable curse. To kill them with a single hex. To use the imperious curse to make them kill each other. She wanted revenge. She took out one more, what looked to be a fatter, older version of Crabbe when she was spotted. She had the sudden horrid thought that one of the masked men was Severus – that she'd disabled her own love. She couldn't think about that now, though, with the black forms advancing towards her. One of the death eaters ripped off the mask and she recognized Bellatrix Lestrange. She'd fought the witch once before, in her fifth year.

Hermione blocked a hex, and another, making her way towards the group of professors and toward, she hoped, Harry. She felt something whiz pass her hair, singeing the skin of her left ear and part of her neck but she didn't stop. Many of the death eaters were focusing on her, taking the heat away from the knot of people who were just meters away now. She didn't see him, though her eyes searched the crowd for his tall, dark form. He wasn't there. Then she felt something hit her in the back, like a chard of metal between her shoulder blades. She couldn't breathe. Her knees hit the grass hard, her cheek harder. She didn't want to close her eyes. Everything blurred. She slipped quietly under.