Severus Snape stormed into Albus Dumbledore's office. Luckily, the wise old wizard was alone. Severus spoke urgently and in tones most unlike himself. "Albus, I need a Time-Turner."

Albus tried to speak, but the powerful younger wizard cut him off.

"I know you have one. You know that I would not ask unless it were of the utmost importance." His voice was still his deep baritone, but it had an edgy quality Albus had never heard from Severus. It was almost as if he were panicked.

"Severus, I must ask why. Is Hermione hurt? Is she ill? What has gotten you into this state? What is wrong, my boy?" Albus spoke with deep concern.

"No, Albus, Hermione is not hurt or ill. I... she..." The agitated man trailed off as he ran his hand through his lank black hair and turned away from his mentor.

"Severus, what is it, then?" Albus asked gently.

The black-clad wizard began to pace back and forth in the short distance before the Headmaster's desk. His steps were quick and full of repressed emotional energy. His hands were fisted at his sides, his face contorted in the deepest of scowls.

The Headmaster waited, allowing him time. He watched him pace, his concern mounting with each snapping turn the agitated wizard made. Finally, Severus swung around mid-stride and clutched the edge of the desk.

"I cannot do this to her," he admitted through clenched teeth. His eyes held a sudden uncharacteristic openness. He dropped all pretense and looked at the aged wizard who was both his mentor and his friend. His expression was almost pleading. When he spoke, his voice was broken. "Everything, Albus; everything I have ever attempted has been a miserable failure. From the time I was a small child, through the present day. My whole life has been nothing but one long series of bad decisions. One abysmal failure after another. Everything I touch is ruined. Everything I attempt is lacking, regardless of how much I put into the effort. I can invest my entire self in something, anything, and still I always fail. I cannot do this to Hermione. How could I have been so selfish? I married her. I. Married. Her. What was I thinking? That I had been redeemed? That I deserved a chance? This will end badly; I will fail her spectacularly. It is urgent that I have the Time-Turner, because this time it will not be just me that suffers. No." He spun around, hiding his face from Albus. His shoulders shook with the effort of suppressing his feelings. When he finally turned back around, his wild emotions were firmly under control. He looked at Albus's desk and spoke again. This time his voice was low and serious. "Albus, you must grant me this. Not for myself, but for Hermione. For the world. She has too much to offer to be held back by me." He raised his black eyes to the solemn blue ones before him. "Please, Albus, let me free her. Let me right this wrong."

"Never have I seen you this distraught, Severus," Albus said gently.

Severus hung his head in shame and guilt.

"Not even the night we decided you should become a spy for the Order." Albus stood and walked around his desk. He laid his gnarly hand on Severus's tense shoulder. "You have never asked me for anything before or after that night." The old wizard affectionately squeezed the thin broad shoulder under his hand.

"Severus, my boy, you love Hermione." It was not a question. "I have seen how much. Have you forgotten that when she died - yes, Harry told me all about it - have you forgotten how you felt?"

The anguished man became deathly still. His voice was softer than a whisper. "No, Albus, I have not forgotten. I have no reason to go on without her. She is my very life; she is my reason to be..." The younger wizard looked up into Albus's eyes. "... She is everything to me. I would die for her. I would give my life to make sure that hers is better. I would give everything to ensure that for her. I must. She deserves so much more. It is what must be done. Albus. Albus... please."

"Severus, do not make me do this."

The two looked into each other's eyes. Severus's need became clear to Albus.

Albus's world-weary voice spoke with great reluctance. "If this is something that is absolutely necessary for you, so be it. Yes, Severus, I will give you the Time-Turner." Severus's shoulder relaxed, and Albus squeezed it again.

He had the Time-Turner. He spent many minutes just staring at the unimposing instrument in his hand: the instrument that would end his marriage, the instrument through which he could ensure that Hermione was never devalued by her association with one such as himself. Their relationship had already ended one of her close friendships, ended it in a way that was deeply hurtful to her. He feared that would not be the worst she would suffer as his wife. For as surely as he stood here, he knew he would be her ruin. He would spare her that. He had to spare her that. Of course it would mean that she would never feel love for him or know he loved her. She would not become soul-bound with him; she would not marry him. She would not help him create the Cruciatus Reversal Potion or become pregnant with their child. She would never know that any of it had happened. But he would know. He would remember. He would always know what he had had, and what he had given up. He knew he would suffer the loss of Hermione in his life. He knew it was a loss from which he would never recover.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Unbidden, his mind went back and he saw Hermione's beaming smile when she had been asked to become his assistant.

He could feel the first time she slipped her hand into his, on the roof of Grimmauld Place. He could feel it as if it were happening now.

He remembered her devastation when she thought he hadn't wanted her. He smiled in spite of himself as he recalled how she had cleverly refuted every argument against their relationship, how she had declared that he could be hers and she would be his. As they'd cast their binding spell, he'd seen the love shining in her eyes.

Her memory filled his senses: he could hear her passionate cries; see her flushed face; taste her ardent kisses; smell her wonderful scent; feel her body as they aroused and fulfilled each other.

He felt such pride as he thought of her accomplishments. His throat constricted when he remembered her blind panic at the possibility of Malfoy and Skeeter separating them.

This made him pause to wonder how he could do this to her: use the Time-Turner and separate them, himself. Then he convinced himself with the simple fact that she would never know the pain of separation, because she would never remember any of their time together.

He tried to will the memories away, but they did not heed him. He thought of how she had constantly defended him to their colleagues and her friends. His mind's eye saw Hermione on their wedding day: beautifully incandescent in her joy. He recalled her tears of happiness when she had first felt their baby move.

He shook himself. He knew he had to stop thinking and just do it.

Severus awoke tangled in his sheets and dripping with perspiration. He reached his hand out in the inky darkness to feel the empty place beside him. He thought he could almost feel Hermione's heat, as if she had been there minutes before. But of course she had not been there. He was alone. He would never awaken next to her again. He had securely locked up his past-self in a place from which escape was impossible. He had taken his place, and this time he would not allow Hermione to get close to him. "What have I done?" he asked the silent room. In his mind the answer reverberated: 'I have done what I had to do.'

He was beginning to feel the chill of the dungeons as the sweat from his tortured repose cooled on his skin. As he lay back down in his empty bed, an incoherent sound of anguish escaped his lips. Each breath he drew was an agony greater than any he had ever known. He clamped down on his impulse to break down, his desire to curl into a foetal ball and howl his agony to the universe.

He did not give in; he lay rigidly still with his fists balled tightly at his sides. Several torturous minutes later, he sensed something. He bolted upright and tried to feel for his wand. He remembered that he had turned the Time-Turner a bit too far; the Dark Lord was alive and powerful in the past-time he was now in.

He knocked something over as he rummaged for his wand. Someone, or something, was coming closer. It was not the Headmaster, he would announce himself, and no other had access to his private dungeon chambers. If anyone with legitimate intent sought him, they would go to his office or his classroom. He became utterly silent and unmoving, readying himself for attack.

"Severus?"

The candles flared to life and he heard no more. There was only a great rushing sound in his ears as he stared in open-mouthed shock at his pregnant wife. His gaze roved from her wildly matted hair to the dark circles that formed a mask around her eyes, finally coming to rest on her grotesquely swollen ankles that strained above a pair of pushed-down socks. As his gaze travelled back up her body, he took in everything from the tattered and stained Rugby shirt she wore to the grease dripping down her chin from the sausage, onion, peanut butter, and chocolate sandwich she was eating ravenously. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

"Severus?" she repeated.

"It was a dream," he whispered with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Hermione asked around a mouthful of her disgusting sandwich.

He was on his feet in an instant, kissing and worshipping the blessed woman he had pulled into his arms. Her sandwich squished between them and his bare chest was slowly being drenched in chocolate sauce and sausage grease. He didn't give it a thought. He only felt waves of relief crashing through him as his lips sought hers.

Muted sunlight filtered into the room. The morning was chill, as it tended to be in northern Scotland at this time of the year. As Hermione came to awareness, she was struck by the feeling of being watched. She opened one eye slowly to find herself held closely in Severus's arms. This was typical; however, he wasn't asleep as usual. This morning he was staring at her with a strange intensity in his black eyes.

"Severus?" she questioned groggily.

He gave her a smile that took her breath away.

"Wha time izzit?" she asked through a yawn.

"I believe that it is a bit after ten," he said, a light shining in his black eyes as he brushed her hair back from her face with his large hands.

"Severus," she chastised, "you should've woken me up."

"There was no need." He ran one of his hands worshipfully over her. "You are so beautiful."

"Severus, have you been testing potions on yourself?" she asked seriously.

His deep chuckle vibrated thorough her body. "No, I am clear-headed."

She stretched over and bestowed him with a kiss, before she pulled herself out of bed.

They spent the entire day together, as well as the entirety of those that followed.

A bit more than a week later, Hermione sat on the sofa beside her best friend, Harry Potter. He watched her as she stared desolately out to sea. Harry was unused to this sort of behaviour from Hermione, and he had no idea what to do or say.

She turned to him and asked through her tears, "You see, don't you, Harry?"

"Er, no. Not really, Hermione," he admitted tentatively.

"Severus has been so good to me. Well, he's always been good to me; but, not like this. This is different. This is just not right."

"You're complaining because Snape's too nice?"

"No, I'm not complaining because Severus is 'too nice', Harry. I'm saying that he's being so considerate, so demonstrative, so... don't you see? He doesn't love me anymore!"

Harry was completely baffled. He looked at Hermione and really tried to make sense of her despair, but he couldn't. He did the best he could, and tried to change the subject. He picked up a parchment from the table. "I see Skeeter wants an interview."

"Oh! That horrible woman has been after us ever since we were named as the creators of the Cruciatus Reversal Potion. We keep turning her down, and she keeps coming up with more reasons to interview us. Her newest is 'to see how the heroes are faring in the aftermath of the war'. She wants to write an article about our lives, our work, our..." Hermione broke off and fresh tears ran down her face. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and began to shake with sobs.

"So much for a distraction," Harry mumbled.

Severus chose that moment to enter the room. When he saw Hermione, he rushed to her and fell to his knees in front of her. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it gently from her face. "What is it? What's wrong, My Love?" he whispered.

Hermione only cried harder.

"Hermione," Severus began soothingly, as he continued to stroke her hair, "tell me. Whatever it is, I shall fix it for you."

Before anyone realised what was happening, Severus was pushed violently backwards. He landed on the floor on his back. Hermione had moved very quickly, considering her condition, and currently had Severus between her feet. She towered over him and held her wand pointed directly between his eyes. "Who is she?"

"What?" Severus blinked in confusion.

"Don't you dare deny it, Severus Snape. You haven't let me out of your sight for more than a few minutes in over a week. You're overly attentive, utterly compassionate, and excessively indulgent..." She glared accusatorially at the prone wizard. "You, Severus Snape, are being sweet."

"I don't know - "

"Don't give me that," Hermione interrupted. "It must be ... you must be... and you're trying to ... trying to distract me from ... from..." She paused and made an unintelligible sound of fury. "I know, Severus. I know."

"You know what?" he asked, sounding a bit more desperate than he would have wished.

Harry's face twisted and contorted as he bit his inner cheek. He was desperate to restrain the laughter that was threatening to break loose at the look on Severus's face.

Unfortunately, Severus noticed Harry's struggle. "Potter, you are not helping matters!" Snape snarled.

"You, see!" Hermione dropped her wand and crumpled. She landed half on the floor, and half on Severus's legs. "You even love Harry more than me."

The two bewildered wizards could only stare at the distressed witch in shock. Severus caught Harry's eye and mouthed one word: "Molly."

Harry took off towards the Floo connection. As he went, Severus reached up to try and comfort Hermione.

She snatched herself away from him with a shrill "Don't touch me!"

The Weasley matriarch marched into the room and gave Severus a severe look. "She's sleeping now. I expect you to be with her when she wakes up."

"Mrs Weasley, what's the matter with her?" Harry's presumptuous question earned him a glare from Severus.

"Nothing is wrong with her, Harry," Mrs Weasley said sternly. "Her hormones are in an uproar, and she's confused about the signals she's been getting from Severus."

"What signals?" Severus snapped.

"You see," Mrs Weasley said, shaking her head in disgust, "no matter how intelligent they are; they don't have a clue."

"Madam - " Severus bristled.

"Now, Severus," Molly interrupted in conciliation, "I didn't mean anything by it. Arthur was the same way when I was carrying Ginny, bless him."

Harry glanced at Snape, wondering how he was taking being likened to Arthur.

Not well; however, Molly didn't notice. "You've done everything that anyone could expect of you, Severus," Molly continued, as she straightened some cushions. "Just keep on doing as you have been, and be patient. Be very patient, Severus. It won't be long now. You're not a pregnant woman, so you can't understand how Hermione feels."

Harry and Severus glanced at each other as Molly turned to tidy some parchments on a table, each seeing in the other's eyes how glad they were that they weren't women, pregnant or not. It was a surreal shared moment, and neither one wanted to prolong it. Severus scowled, and Harry rose. "I'll just be leaving you to it, then," he said. "Tell Hermione I'll come by again."

Severus's scowl turned to a sneer as he watched Harry walk towards the door. "Indeed," he spat at Harry's retreating back.

"I'll be going too, Severus," Molly said, coming up to him and giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You're doing just fine."

Severus tamped down on the urge to lash out at Molly for touching him. He schooled his features into polite impassivity and said, "Thank you, Molly."

When Hermione woke later that day, she was in a fine mood. It was as if none of it had happened. Severus fought the urge to rush outside and throw himself from the cliffs. He mumbled as much, and Hermione responded by telling him it would be a very messy way to die: splattered on the sharp rocks with the sea washing over his body.

Severus thought it might be very satisfying, but he knew better than to voice that opinion.

However, later that night in bed, he revelled in life and his wife. As he massaged her body and lost himself in the exquisite feel of her softness, he came to two glaring realisations: the first being that he was smart enough to refrain from consciously wishing anything undone, no matter how noble that notion might be; the second being that he was very fortunate that he was alive and with Hermione, no matter how difficult it was to deal with her pregnancy hormones.

Harry Potter had been a frequent visitor to Snape-on-Westray recently. He had been elected by Remus, Tonks, Ginny, Albus and Minerva to be Severus's main source of respite.

The polished wood of the massive front door gleamed in the morning sunlight as Harry stood before it. He raised his hand and knocked firmly. He was in a very good mood. He knew something that Hermione didn't, and he was going to dangle that in front of her mercilessly. He stood there waiting an inordinately long time for Quimple to answer the door. When the door finally creaked open, he was surprised to find Reny there, twisting her ears and shifting from foot to foot. The little elf didn't speak; she just looked up at Harry with large frightened eyes.

A muffled sound reached Harry's ears. He glanced down as Reny squeaked and ran back into the house. Voldemort was permanently gone, but Harry knew that some of his supporters were still free. He knew that those supporters would blame Snape, as much as Harry, for Voldemort's demise. They might even feel that they had more of a score to settle with the spy who had been in their midst for years. This house was isolated, making Snape a much easier target for revenge than Harry.

The front door swung and creaked in the breeze, and the sound came again. Harry realised that it was definitely the sound of torture. He wasted no time; he pulled out his wand and rushed into the house. Upon entry, he saw no clear indication of which way to go, so he hesitated. He didn't have to wait long before he heard it again. It was coming from the back of the house, a place he had only been to on his initial tour of the property. It was coming from the Snapes' private chambers.

He followed the sound as quickly as possible; he ran through the main library and arrived at Hermione and Snape's bedroom door in an instant. He paused, listening at the thick wood. The sound came again. They were in there. They must have been caught unawares while they were still asleep.

Harry silently opened the door, hoping to catch the perpetrators by surprise. He pointed his wand at Hermione's tormentor, only to see her move to one side, chuckle and say, "We'll wait and see if your water will break on its own. I'd rather not interfere unless it's absolutely necessary." Harry's adrenaline-filled brain was finally focusing on the room before him; Snape was by Hermione's head, stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear, and Hermione was... Hermione was... Harry let out a strange sound when he realised he was looking directly at the naked and open juncture of Hermione's spread legs. Everything got really bright, and then dimmed as he heard the far away voice of Severus Snape yelling at him.

"Potter!" Severus snarled, "stop that insufferable puling and remove yourself at once."

When Harry opened his eyes, he found that he had been propped on a small sofa in the corner of the room. Someone, 'probably the midwife,' he mused, had placed him there and elevated his feet. There was something trickling into his eyes behind his glasses. He reached up and pulled a damp flannel off his forehead. He swung his feet down to the floor and looked cautiously toward the sound of voices. Hermione was no longer splayed open before him. She was covered by a pretty white linen night-robe, and she was bent over Snape's lap with her hands braced on his knees. She was looking into Snape's face, and Snape was speaking to her in soft tones. Harry felt much better with this scene before him. He was just beginning to relax, and was about to ask if he could do anything to help, when Hermione gasped. Harry's eyes were drawn to the sound of liquid hitting the floor between Hermione's feet. He looked up and saw that her thin night-robe was soaked from the waist down. He watched as Snape reached down and drew the soaked garment off Hermione. He saw an entirely nude Hermione clinging to Snape's shoulders and rocking slightly. He saw Snape soothing her by slowly stoking up and down the sides of her naked body...
Harry was jerked out of his most recent descent into blessed oblivion by a sharp pain on the top of his left foot. He looked around to blearily see Snape guiding a clothed Hermione in a walk around the chambers. As they passed him, Snape deliberately trod sharply on his instep. His pained exclamation drew attention to the fact that he had regained consciousness, again.

"Harry Potter," Snape intoned sarcastically, "our conquering hero."

Harry blushed.

"You should not be in here," Severus snarled. "Go and wait in an appropriate place." Severus added, in a voice dripping with derision, "If you can manage it, assist Quimple in informing the necessary parties that Hermione is in labour."

Harry didn't have time to respond. The midwife hurried back into the room and spoke to Hermione.

"Come on, Hermione, we need to check your dilation."

Severus walked Hermione to the bed where she lay down. The midwife reached down and began to lift Hermione's robe. Harry didn't even hear Snape's growled "Potter, out! Now!" because he was running for the door. In a nearly perfect imitation of Tonks, he tripped and fell. His head made jarring contact with the sharp corner of the stone fireplace, and he knew no more.

After a fuzzy climb to consciousness Harry hesitantly opened his eyes. He was relieved that Hermione was not lying down on the foot of the bed with her legs spread, as she had been preparing to do when he'd tried to make his escape. His eyes found Hermione at the head of the bed. She was kneeling across it with her arms on Snape's shoulders. Snape had his hands on her waist, and he was bearing the weight of her upper body as he murmured encouragement in her ear. Harry's traitorous eyes took in the rest of the scene against the direct orders of his brain. He noticed that Hermione was, again, entirely naked.

He heard the midwife say, "Keep pushing, you're almost there."

He heard Hermione groan as his eyes travelled to the spot that held the midwife's attention. There, displayed before him, was a small jet-black head coming out of Hermione's body. Harry saw blood and other fluids dripping onto the mattress between Hermione's knees and pooling...

This time when Harry woke on the small sofa, he didn't open his eyes right away. He only knew that whatever might be going on in the room, he didn't want to see it. He sat up slowly and angled his head down. He would look at the floor only and make his way carefully out of there.

He had only a made it a few steps when he heard Hermione. She was speaking softly and didn't seem to be in any pain. However, her voice sounded very tired. "She's absolutely perfect."

Harry flinched when he heard Snape respond, "Indeed, she is."

Harry was almost knocked over by the midwife as she bustled into the room. "Mr Potter, I presume," she whispered congenially, as she straightened herself from where she had bumped into him. "Come, meet Severus and Hermione's daughter."

"I, uh -"

She turned Harry towards the bed. His stomach lurched at what he saw. The bed had been cleaned and changed, as had the three people in it. Hermione was now dressed in a white velvet robe, and she reclined in Severus's arms, while their newborn daughter slept in hers. One of Severus's long fingers was gently stroking the baby's tiny head. Neither of them seemed to notice Harry or the midwife.

Harry heard Hermione speak softly, "She's so beautiful, Severus."

Severus's tone was low and intimate as he responded. "She is. As are you, My Love." Hermione leaned deeper into Severus's embrace. "Rest - " he began, only to be cut off by the midwife.

"Mr Potter's ready to meet the wee one," she announced cheerily.

Harry's response was cut off by a deep derisive voice. "Yes, Harry, do. I am sure that my daughter would love to meet The Boy Who ... Fainted." Severus paused to enjoy Harry's discomfort. Then he continued in an icy tone. "As now is an appropriate time for you to join us."

"Severus," Hermione admonished, "I'm sure Harry would have left when you asked him ... if he had been able..."

Severus made an indignant sound deep in his throat. That sound usually signaled the folding of his arms over his chest, accompanied by him drawing himself up to his full intimidating stance. Harry was surprised to see that he made no move to do either. Instead, he remained on the bed, with his family in his arms.

Harry blinked.

"Go on then," the midwife said. "Go see her."

Harry cautiously approached the three on the bed. When he got closer, he glanced into the white blanket to see a small red creature that he thought resembled a Mandrake more than anything else.

Hermione whispered, "Harry Potter, I would like you to meet Senua Snape."

Harry smiled at Hermione's beaming face.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Hermione asked.

The baby girl opened her eyes and looked right at Harry. Even though Harry knew he had to be imagining things, he could have sworn that she was glaring at him. He knew he had to lie. He wasn't about to hurt Hermione's feelings, or earn Severus's wrath, by saying that their baby looked like a tiny red Mandrake. Harry managed to say, "Yes, she is." As he looked closer at the infant, he realised that she really was beautiful. Harry was looking at her features now, rather than her red-wrinkliness. He could clearly see that she was a reflection of the best of both of her parents.

Hermione's head dropped wearily back onto Severus's chest. "That's it," Severus snapped, "Hermione needs rest. We shall see you tomorrow, Harry."

"If you'll wait a minute, I'll get my bag and walk out with you, Mr Potter," the midwife said.

"Sure," Harry agreed.

I would like to thank Nakhash Mekashefah for brilliantly beta reading this fic. The generous gift of her time and energy is much appreciated.
A/ N:

I did not do the birth from Hermione's point of view, because I might have ended up re-telling the birth of my son, or something close to it. To avoid that faux pas, we have Harry's odd point of view for the birth.

The names;

Sulevis, Sulis, Senua, Sulla, Sul, Sulivia, Suliviae, are all names for the same Goddess. She is believed to be an older Celtic Goddess, who was adopted by the Romans and is the Celtic equivilant of their Goddess, Minerva.

Some say that Sulis is the male version, however, there are just as many authorities on the subject who assert that the name Sulis was the name of a Goddess.

Naming Resources used on the Internet:

www . guardian . co . uk / arts / news / story / 0,11711,1033318,00 . html

Other references:

The New Book of Goddesses and Heroines, by Patricia Monaghan, pp. 286-287

The Gods of Roman Britain, by Miranda Jane Green, pp.29-31

Dictionary of Celtic Myth and Legend, by Miranda J. Green, pp.200-202

Celt and Greek: Celts in the Hellenic World, by Peter B. Ellis, p. 50