Chapter Eight

Severus spent most of the night in his Pensieve recalling happier times. He stumbled back into the bedroom late into the night. He lit the candles in the room, keeping the light dim and low. Hermione was on the bed, but not under the covers. She was still dressed in her new robes, and her hair was a frizzy mess that covered her face and pillow. Reaching over, he gently moved it out of her face, afraid she might suffocate herself sleeping like that. He noticed her cheeks were tear-stained and her mascara had run, leaving inky tracks down her face. She looked awful, but even in her disarray Severus couldn't help but think she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen.

He needed to find out what had really happened before Hermione's memory loss. The answer might devastate him, but wasn't it better to know the truth. He could still win her back, but would he keep her if he continued on as he had done before? Instead of crawling into bed as he had planned, he turned around and exited the bedroom, heading for the Floo.

"14 Terrace DrDrive," he called out. After a flash of green light, Severus stepped out into a darkened sitting room.

"Lumos," he said quietly, holding up his wand. There were two couches flanking the fireplace. A coffee table between them held various copies of the Quibbler. Toys were strewn everywhere. He picked his way through the mess, unsure of how to announce his arrival to the sleeping household. All of the alcohol he had consumed earlier had addled his higher cognitive skills, including planning.

His attention wandered as he contemplated the matter, and he didn't see the pile of new Weasley Wizarding Products in the floor. He tripped, landing quite noisily.

"Damn," he cursed loudly. Sparks from his lit wand jumped, setting alight a set of Filbuster's Fireworks. They exploded, lighting the dark room in an explosion of different colors. Severus grappled with the coffee table to stand up. He felt something sharp on his nose, and he screeched with pain. But before he could extract the nose-biting teacup he had inadvertently grabbed off the table, he felt his whole body freeze. He fell stiffly back to the floor. The lights came on, the fireworks were stopped, and then he saw the face of Ronald Weasley standing over him.

"Bloody hell," Weasley exclaimed. "What are you doing here, Snape?"

"Let me up," he groaned. Ron flicked his wand, and Severus suddenly had control over his muscles again. He reached up and grabbed the teacup from his nose, tossing it aside. Standing up stiffly, he brushed off his robes and tried his best to look somewhat dignified. He realized that his dramatic entrance had awoken the whole household, and Luna and their three children stood watching him.

"What do you want?" Ron asked again.

"I need to talk…about Hermione," he added when he saw Weasley's disbelief.

"Go back to bed," Ron said to the children. They obeyed, their curiosity outweighed by their fear of the scowling Potions master. "Would you mind making us a pot of tea, Luna?" She nodded, heading for what Severus assumed was the kitchen. The two men sat, each eyeing the other suspiciously.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, Snape," Ron said.

"Perhaps if you kept your home tidier, I wouldn't have had to greet you with such fanfare," Severus retorted. Before Weasley could retaliate, Luna returned with their tea.

"I added some figwort. You look like you've lost your selkie's skin," she told him.

Severus stared at her. Was she being serious? He took a tentative sip and then decided selkie's skin or not, figwort was used to expel nightmares and that was definitely something he needed at the moment.

"Getting straight to the point, I made an unfortunate discovery this afternoon," Severus began. He despised the idea of laying forth his failures as a husband to the likes of Ronald Weasley, but Ron was close to both Hermione and Percy. If anyone would have any insight into what had taken place, it would be him. And so Severus told him what he had overheard.

"Well that explains the letter I received tonight," Ron said.

"Letter?" Weasley handed him a parchment.

Dear Ron,

I'm in a terrible mess. Severus and I have quarreled. Perhaps we do this often, I don't really know, but this felt wrong, very wrong. I've never really failed at anything before, at least as far as I can remember. I went all through school terrified at the prospect. Afraid they might send me home with a note saying they were mistaken about my magical abilities, sorry for the inconvenience. But I think maybe I have failed at my marriage.

You cannot understand how hard it is every day to wake up and not know who you are. You know who you were, but who you have become is a daily mystery. Never in a million years did I ever imagine waking up to find myself married to Professor Snape. I always thought that I would marry

The words she had written next were crossed out, but Severus raised his head sharply to look at Ron. As if sensing the unsaid accusation, Ron wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer. Severus blinked but then read on.

But never mind how my life was supposed to turn out. It is what it is. You're happily married, how do you get through the tough times? How do you resolve arguments? The fight we had was really one where neither one of us was at fault. Or if anyone is it's me, but I don't remember. Circumstances continue to test us. I don't remember being married, and so I don't remember how to be a wife. Please, any advice you can give would be welcome.

Love,

Hermione

Severus balked at the closing. Love? She should love him, only him.

"What did you tell her?" he asked sharply.

"I haven't written back yet. Her owl arrived right as we were getting into bed. But it all makes sense now with what you've said."

"Is it possible? What I heard?" Severus asked in a strangled voice.

"I doubt it. Hermione is a fighter. You read there that she's afraid of failure. That hasn't changed since she left school. Taking up with Percy would be failure in her mind," Ron explained. It made sense with the Hermione that Severus knew, but still he worried.

"What about Percy?"

"Well that I believe of him. He's a prat, and Hermione is exactly the kind of girl he would be attracted to. She's smart, she likes the rules, and she's high profile enough to suit his oversized ego." Severus' clenched his fists at this assessment. "But it sounds like she's genuinely upset about what may or may not have happened. You just have to go on from there," Ron continued.

Severus nodded. "Thank you Mr. Weasley. I'll let you get back to bed. I'm sorry I disturbed you," he said, standing. Ron remained seated, Luna asleep on his shoulder.

"You make her happy, but I'll never understand why she married you, Snape."

"Perhaps because you wouldn't," Severus said, thinking back to the crossed out name in Hermione's letter.

"Get out of my house," Ron replied tersely.

"Gladly." He stormed over to the fireplace and Flooed back to Hogwarts. Once there, he collapsed on the couch, falling into a deep drunken sleep.

When he awoke finally, his head ached and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. What was more distressing was that Hermione was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she had followed her letter, and gone to the Weasley's for advice. He hoped Mr. Weasley gave her the same assessment he had given Severus. Busying himself in his lab, he first made a hangover remedy and then set about to restock the infirmary with Pepper-up Potion. Over and over again, he rehearsed his apology in his head for when he saw her.

"Hermione, I apologize for my rash behavior yesterday. I shouldn't have…." He trailed off. He shouldn't have threatened Percy Weasley with loss of life and limb? The bloody twit deserved worse, at least he had only threatened and not acted.

'No,' thought Severus, 'if I have to apologize it will be for what I did wrong. And I was not at fault in that. I was protecting her honor as well as mine." He tried again as he stirred his potions.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I should not have been so angry…." But his anger was a righteous anger. He dared any man not to become enraged at the thought of another stealing his wife. No, he would not apologize for his anger. What then?

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I said things in anger that I didn't mean. I know you don't remember, but we can move past this. We have survived worse than Percy Weasley, we can survive this too." Yes, that was much better. He repeated it over and over in his head until it was burned into his brain. He would tell her the first moment that he saw her.

But she wasn't at lunch or dinner. He didn't see her until it was almost time to go to bed.

"There you are," he said, finding her in the bedroom. She was rummaging around in the bureau. When she heard him, she shut the drawer loudly and turned around to face him, looking surprised and unnerved to see him.

"Oh, hi."

"Where have you been?"

"I was at the Burrow…with Molly. I went to see Molly and ask her advice. Percy wasn't there, he had to work at the Ministry, only takes one day off for Christmas." Severus frowned at the mention of his possible usurper. "Molly told me that, not Percy. She talked about all of them, but mostly him. It was almost more than I could stand, but he's still on the outs with the family and it breaks her heart."

"He leaves destruction wherever he goes," Severus said sharply. He was having a hard time remembering his practiced apologies, and concentrated instead on changing into his pajamas without hexing something.

"Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said last night…it's just that…I'm sorry. Nothing happened, I promise," she rambled on, wringing her hands.

"I'm the one that should be apologizing," he said, taking her nervous hands and stilling them.

"No, you were right to be angry. You walked in and heard something terrible. I would have reacted the same way I suppose, if it had been me. I talked to Molly…not about Percy…but before Christmas…about marriage and being a wife."

He placed his finger at her mouth to silence her. She stilled, and he became very aware of touching her.

"You didn't ask to have your memories stolen. It was unfair of me to blame you last night for something over which you had no control," he said, pulling away from her.

"This wouldn't have happened if I had been trying harder."

"You've done your best. I understand it's difficult not knowing," he reassured her.

"No, I haven't. I've been sullen and withdrawn. I haven't been acting as a wife should," she said, sounding somewhat strangled. She slowly opened her robe to reveal one of her skimpier nightgowns. If he was expecting anything tonight, this was hardly it. He stared at her in surprise for a long, agonizingly silent moment.

"Hermione, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he finally said quietly. This would be his only exhortation to her in this regard. He desperately wanted her. He had been waiting for the moment when she stopped balking at his touches, when she would let him touch more than just her hand or her shoulder, and maybe even touch him back. Having her would reassure him that she was still his wife. Even without her memories, even if she had strayed, he would know that now she was his and he was hers.

"No, you were right. I think of you as my professor still. I need to think of you as my husband."

He nodded.

"Come here."

She looked nervous but stepped closer anyway. She possessed courage that had made her a credit to her house at Hogwart's Hogwarts and later to the Order; it was one of the many reasons he admired and loved her. Even so, he took care not to startle her. He only wished it didn't take so much of her resolve to let him touch her. Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms and held her close for a few moments. He buried his nose in her bushy hair, taking in the scent of her lavender shampoo. It had been so long since he had smelled her, had held her, or even been this close. He bent down and brushed his lips lightly against hers. She responded tentatively at first, but after years of kissing her, he knew what to do to encourage her.

Their lips were soon engaged in a familiar dance. He knew that she considered the routine of it sometimes unromantic, but Severus delighted in knowing that he knew exactly how to please her and that she knew how to please him. In his mind, there was nothing romantic in the awkward fumblings of new lovers.

He was an expert potions Potions master and had always appreciated the fine and subtle art of potion making. It took both practice and skill to make a difficult potion, but when done right, it was a beautiful thing to behold. It was one of the main reasons he consented to making the Wolfsbane for Lupin; not that he wanted to help him, but that he relished the process of making the potion.

Sex for him was the same; so what if the steps were the same every time as long if they were expertly and beautifully done. Of course, being a Potions master meant that he knew lots of different potions and could do them all equally well. They had had seven years and lots of practice. He only hoped they would have more.

Slowly he moved them back towards the bed. He continued to kiss her softly as he lowered her down, half covering her body with his. Maybe it was the sudden change of position or the weight of him on her, but she stopped and looked at him nervously. He peered deep into her eyes and brushed the hair away from her face. He lowered his head to kiss her again, but she turned away and he caught her cheek instead. Dragging his lips over to ear, he whispered softly.

"Your mind may not remember me, Hermione, but your body does."

He could feel her shiver slightly at the meaning of his words and then as he began to nibble gently at her earlobe the way she liked. She pushed him off of her and sat up quickly. He rolled over and tried to reach for her hand, to reassure her but she stood up and walked a few paces away, out of reach. He sat up on the edge of the bed and regarded her, watching as her hands trembled almost unnoticeably as she struggled to regulate her breathing. They were only a few feet apart but it felt like a gaping chasm—an impossible distance to cross.

"Hermione, I…"

"I'm sorry."

He watched as she fled the room, helpless to stop her. Pounding his fists into the mattress, he let out a growl of frustration. He knew she wasn't prepared to make this step, but he had forced her anyway. Somehow, she had been convinced that the way to prove to him that nothing had happened between her and Percy was to jump into bed with him before she was ready. He should have known better. He should have had more control, but when she had opened her robe all he could think of was how long it had been since he had held her, how agonizing it had been not knowing if she would ever love him again.

Contemplating going after her, he decided it would be best to give her some space. She would return when she was ready. At least he hoped so. Stumbling to the bathroom, he swigged some Dreamless Sleep Potion in an effort to stem the inevitable dreams of life without her—dreams that appeared all the more likely in the last forty-eight hours. Nothing had gone as he had planned.

He hoped that she would return later that night, that he would awake and he would find her lying in the bed next to him. But the next morning her side of the bed lay undisturbed and cold. Frantically, he searched the castle, asking every portrait, student, and teacher if they had seen her. But no one had. He couldn't sit and do nothing, he had done that once before and while he sat ensconced in his rooms someone had taken and violated his wife, stripping her of her memory. It was his fault that she was like this, if only he had done something to prevent it.

He finally found her in the forbidden forest and he let out a sigh of relief to find her safe even if she was babbling to a tree branch.

"Hermione," he said sharply, hoping to draw her attention away from the tree. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, trying to pull her towards the castle but she refused to budge.

"I saw a unicorn," she told the tree, "but it ran away from me. They've never been afraid before. I don't see what the difference is."

"The difference is now you are married," he said impatiently, pulling at her again. It was cold and night was falling. He didn't want to be in the forest any longer than he had too.

"It was white like the snow. I tried to pet it, . I took some sugar like Hagrid showed us in class but it ran away." She nervously picked at the pocket of her robes, looking up expectantly as if waiting a response from the branch.

"Hermione, please," he pleaded.

"Why did it run away?" she asked finally turning from the tree to him. Before he could answer, he heard the pounding of hooves approaching. He let go of her, turning to see two centaurs entering the clearing where they stood.

"You have trespassed, human," a light tawny one with long dirty blond hair accused him.

"I know and I apologize," he started.

"We care nothing for your apologies," the second centaur spat. He was darker than the first with a shiny black coat and mane.

"I was just looking for my wife. She's not well," he explained, pointing back at Hermione who had started her conversation with the tree again.

She was getting more and more agitated and he needed to get her back to the castle as quickly as possible. Dealing with irritable and possessive centaurs was the last thing he needed at the moment. He would try to talk his way out of the forest, but he fingered the wand in his pocket just in case.

"What is wrong with her?" the first centaur asked.

"She is unwell in the mind. Please, I need to get her help as soon as possible." He almost snapped at their being an unnecessary and inconvenient delay but he knew that though his usual intimidating manner worked with witches and wizards, it would have the opposite effect here.

"Go, but we will not be so forgiving next time," the tawny one said. He turned and grabbed Hermione, dragging her along as quickly as he could. He could hear the centaurs behind him arguing about whether or not they should have let them go and he didn't want to be anywhere near them if the darker one succeeded in changing the other's mind.

"Professor, please you're hurting me," Hermione whined, but he didn't let go or slow down until they reached the edge of the forest. Stopping abruptly, he wheeled her around to face him.

"Why did you leave the castle without telling me?" he demanded. He felt somewhat sorry for his harsh tone when her eyes welled up with tears. She looked pathetic. Her robes were torn, no doubt in her escapade through the forest and she had dried leaves sticking out of her bushy hair.

"I wanted to see the unicorns, but they ran away. Why? Why did they run away? I did everything right." ," She she started babbling once more. With a huge sigh, he gave up and led her to the castle and down to the dungeons.

"Here put these on," he told her once they were in the bedroom, her pajamas in his outstretched hand. She took them, regarding them suspiciously.

"Don't you think I should return to my dormitory, Professor?" she asked.

"No, I think you should put your pajamas on and get in bed NOW," !" he He pointed at their bed, his patience thinning.

He left the room in search of the potion Pomfrey had recommended for what she had termed "relapses." He didn't understand how someone could have a relapse when she had never fully recovered in the first place.

Grabbing the vial of purple liquid, he returned to their room with the potion and a cup of tea. She lay in the bed, on his side, he noted, looking nervous.

"Drink this," he ordered her after adding the potion to the tea.

"What is it?"

"Something to help you sleep," he said, sitting on the bed next to her. She took a tentative sip, grimacing at the flavor.

"Why did the unicorn run away?" she asked again. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Because you're not a virgin anymore, Hermione. Surely you remember that from Hagrid's lessons." He tried to be patient, but it was so hard. He wanted his wife back.

"Of course I am!" she exclaimed. "I think I would remember something like that!"

"Believe me," he said, placing one hand over hers. He tried not to notice at how she flinched at his touch. "Drink your tea."

She drained her glass and when she finished, he took the cup from her, pulled the blankets up and tucked her in. Tucked into bed like this, she looked more like the student she believed herself still to be rather than his wife of seven years. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. She caught his hand as he stood back up, surprising him. It was the first time she had touched him of her own volition since they had found her that fateful morning.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she whispered. And in that moment he saw something in her eyes that he recognized. He saw his Hermione, the woman that he had married, made a life with, who he loved. But even as he glimpsed it, she closed her eyes and he could see that she was already asleep.

Why was she apologizing? For losing her memory and leaving him in agony like this? Or because she really had slept with Percy? For the first time since she returned, he wondered if he wanted her to regain what she had lost. Maybe "his Hermione" had been unhappy and discontented enough to sleep with a Weasley, and not even one of the nicer ones, but Percy the Prat. What if she had been planning on leaving him, but then met with whoever had done this to her? This might be their chance for a new start.

A/N: Thanks to my beta Larilee. If you haven't read her Great Plans or The Day Emmeline Vance Died then you should. Leave her a review while you're at it. Speaking of reviews, thanks to everyone who has left one thus far. You guys are great!