Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I hope you've enjoyed the journey up to this point. The last three chapters don't have much in the way of plot since the primary conflict is now resolved. Rather, they are updates and glimpses into Hermione and Severus's life post war as they adjust and find their footing/happiness.

I also wrote this while I've been laid up in bed with the flu, so I'm sorry if it's not as good as my fevered brain thinks it is.

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.


Ch 35: The Start of Forever

"They're finally letting you out?" Hermione called, catching sight of Harry in the entrance hall as she was leaving the Great Hall after grabbing a quick bite of lunch in the newly restored dining room. It had been the first room seen to as it was needed to feed those hustling around the castle repairing the grounds and structure so that the castle could reopen on time in September.

Hermione hurried over to Harry, briefly assessing his health before throwing her arms about him in greeting. His chest rumbled against her as he laughed, clearly amused by her exuberance.

It had been six days since he'd defeated Voldemort, and he'd barely been awake – not that she'd been around much to see for herself. Between looking after Severus and all of the funerals, she'd hardly had a free moment to check on her friend. Both men had escaped the emotional roller coaster that had been the wizarding world as nearly fifty people were laid to rest in the span of seventy-two hours. During the very worst moments, Hermione guiltily wished she'd had the excuse of being bedridden as well.

Currently, she was little more than a raw nerve or a festering sore being constantly aggravated, but one she knew would soon begin healing.

Finally.

That probably had something to do with getting past the first hurdle with her husband. When she'd first woken from her own near unconscious state, it was quickly apparent that they'd not just ride off into the sunset with rainbows and smiles and happily ever after. That wasn't reality, and they had quite a bit to work through, seeing as relationships were new territory for both of them. And it hadn't helped that initially he'd been painfully careful with her in all of their conversations.

Again and again, he'd turn things around until she was stating what she wanted, and he was simply agreeing as though that was his desire as well, even when it was obviously not his preference. She'd finally gotten so fed up with his tiptoeing and ridiculous concessions that she'd snapped at him to be himself – the ornery, arrogant man she'd fallen in love with, not some pandering, pale facsimile.

That had been enough to have him confessing that he was afraid she'd change her mind about them or realize that she'd limited herself by remaining committed to him – as though she wanted options. Ha!

He'd also admitted that he was attempting not to stifle her. He'd never had anyone that truly chose him, and knowing she did, he wanted to hoard all of her attention – essentially isolating her and ultimately clipping her wings. It had taken Hermione considerable effort, and multiple examples, to convince him that she was too independent to ever be in danger of that happening. Severus may have a will with the strength of a hurricane, but Hermione was as stubborn and unyielding as a mountain when necessary. His personality and residual hang-ups would never be too much for her to handle and navigate.

Since then, things had been much better. He'd only needed the occasional reminder, with a few choice words, such as reiterating the fact that she didn't in any way view him as a restraining noose or suffocating blanket and that blunt honesty between them was essential. But she could still do with a little comfort and intimacy now that the last of the funerals were finally at an end – two things Madam Pomfrey had worked diligently to deny them – all in the name of improving her patient's health, of course.

"No, but I'm sneaking out before Madam Pomfrey insists on keeping me any longer," Harry admitted, casting a furtive look over his shoulder as he did. "I'm sick of being fussed over."

A snort burst from her, and Hermione quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to smother the sound. He reminded her so much of the rule-breaking first year he'd once been in that moment. Some things would never change, despite the passage of time and altered circumstances. It was so reassuring, and she felt such a swelling of fondness for her friend in that moment that she hugged him all over again.

"All right there, Hermione?" Harry finally asked when she'd still not released him several minutes later, chuckling softly as he awkwardly patted her back.

"Yes, yes," she said, quickly composing herself. "Just feeling a bit sentimental for a moment."

"I know what you mean. I can't wait to get a home cooked meal at the Burrow," Harry announced, rubbing his stomach at the mere thought of Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

"I thought you were tired of being fussed over," she quipped.

"It's different," Harry said sheepishly, a rosy flush painting highlights across his cheeks.

"Of course," Hermione allowed, understanding he wanted to be surrounded by those he considered family, rather than those that viewed him as a larger-than-life hero. After everything, he just wanted to be Harry. "But you're staying at the Burrow?" Hermione questioned, wondering why he wasn't going straight to Grimmauld Place. Particularly now that Kreacher was so keen to look after him.

"Ron and I are going there for a few weeks to help look after George…neither are coping all that well."

Hermione didn't need Harry to tell her as much. She'd seen the pair at Fred's funeral. Gut wrenching didn't begin to describe the agony both wizards wore openly. At least Ron was speaking again, already having plans to begin Auror training as soon as Harry was cleared to join him. Having that goal seemed to be about the only thing fueling him at the moment. But it was better than nothing.

"Plus," Harry continued, "I want to spend as much time as I can with Ginny before the next term starts. Then Ron is going to move into Grimmauld Place with me. I would have offered you a room too, but…." The last was said with a shrug and a slightly uncomfortable smile.

Apparently Harry didn't quite know how to openly discuss her relationship with Severus. But that was all right. Eventually, it'd get easier, Hermione was certain. After all, Severus wasn't going anywhere.

In fact, he was with Professor McGonagall at that very moment discussing the upcoming year. She'd come by the hospital wing while he was recovering to personally request Severus remain at the school. He'd immediately refused to continue as Headmaster, to which she'd quickly assured him that she was assuming the role, but that she wanted him to teach Defense again. Severus had asked for a few days to think about it, and was currently giving her his answer, having finally been released from Madam Pomfrey's care that morning.

Severus had talked the career move over with Hermione, weighing the pros and cons while insisting that the decision impacted her as well, and therefore she should have a say. That mentality, and the fact that he'd registered her initial complaints and adjusted, gave her confidence that they were going to be just fine as they transitioned from a high-stress, secret relationship to one that was open and enduring. Ultimately, he'd concluded that while he didn't relish the idea of teaching, he would appreciate the opportunity to repair his friendships with the other professors, so he was agreeing to stay on at the castle for one year as wizarding Britain recovered from the war.

"It's all right, Harry. Though I'll admit it will be strange not having the three of us living together anymore," Hermione assured him, idly wondering when or if Severus would even comment on the fact that even though she'd been staying with him in a private room within the hospital wing, she'd found time to unpack her surviving belongings in what would be their rooms for the next year. Hermione had missed the cozy space more than expected. "Are you excited to start training?"

"I've always wanted to be an Auror," Harry said, sounding rather stunned that he'd actually made it to this point. For a while there, the outlook had been rather grim. "Kingsley arranged everything for me. For Neville and Ron too. He said since we already have so much field experience, we could do most of our training on the job while we track down the dozen or so Death Eaters that got away during the final battle."

Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about Ron's desire to pursue a career as an Auror. They'd discussed it previously when he'd realized that wasn't what he truly wanted, but so much had happened and changed since then. Part of her was relieved that being an Auror would at least provide him with a productive outlet to vent his rage and despair. But the rest of her was worried that the bitterness and anger would eventually consume him. Perhaps he just needed a bit of time to come to terms as he sought closure. Then maybe he'd have it out of his system and be open to new possibilities.

"You should talk to Severus. He might have a few ideas to help you out," Hermione suggested, knowing Severus had insights on where his former colleagues might seek refuge. "The quicker you find them, the better." For a number of reasons.

Plus, this could be a decent excuse for two of the most important people in her life to find common ground and begin some semblance of a…friendship. Hmm. Perhaps she should content herself with a mere measure of tolerance.

"Right. He knew all of them," Harry murmured, shaking his head as though he were still struggling to remember that Severus was one of the good guys. "Sure you don't want to join us? It won't be the same without you."

"No, thank you," she said primly, quite through with dueling and physical fighting. From now on, her battles would all be waged with the legal system. "Professor McGonagall agreed to arrange for me to sit my exams next month, once things had settled down a bit, then-I'm-going-into-the-Department-of-Magical-Law-Enforcement. I-just-heard-back-yesterday," Hermione informed him quickly, unintentionally stringing the words together in her excitement to begin, much as she used to do when she was younger.

"They'd probably take you even if you didn't have your N.E.W.T.s," Harry suggested, baffled by her desire to prove her qualifications rather than resting on her laurels. Never did she want to have her worthiness be questioned for any reason again. She'd faced that often enough as it was thanks to her blood status.

"Yes," Hermione allowed, not bothering to explain her reasoning. There were some things that she'd come to resign herself to knowing that Harry would simply never understand.

"I'm actually surprised you're not insisting on returning to Hogwarts to complete your seventh year," he admitted, surprising her. "You love school."

"McGonagall asked Severus to come back and teach Defense for one more year before he changes professions. I don't want to be his student again. It was difficult before when we were only together because of a spell, but now that things are different between us, it just wouldn't feel right carrying on like that, particularly after all we've already accomplished. I think I'd chafe at the necessary restrictions that come with being a student," Hermione said frankly, having already considered and discarded the idea.

"I guess that makes sense, but if he's at Hogwarts, where will you be?" Harry asked, a tiny crease forming between his eyes.

She didn't blame him. Never could Hermione recall seeing any of the other professors' significant others around the castle over the years. It would probably take her a bit of time adjusting to moving about more discreetly than she was used to – well, at least when Harry and his invisibility cloak weren't involved.

"He's my husband, Harry. I'll be living with him," Hermione informed him, feeling a smile tug at her lips at her friend's obvious discomfort upon hearing that.

"Right," he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and making the messy strands stand up all over the place. Hermione doubted he'd bothered to brush it at all since before they'd robbed Gringotts. It certainly looked tangled enough to have gone over a week.

"Still not used to it?" she teased.

"No," he replied, shaking his head emphatically.

"Have you had a chance to talk to Ginny yet?" Hermione asked, taking advantage of the opportunity to put him on the spot instead.

Harry rubbed a spot on his arm, probably in response to a phantom pain that Ginny had caused. It wouldn't surprise Hermione in the least if the fiery witch had hit him, even if he was laid up in a hospital bed at the time. Harry had put his foot in it right good with Ginny over the last year – not that she blamed him for his decisions to protect her, but he had to know Ginny wasn't the type to take that lying down.

"She's pretty mad at me," Harry said broodily, scowling at some memory.

"What did you expect?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"A little more gratitude. I did save the world," Harry grumbled, looking more than a little put off.

"I see your ego is as overinflated as ever, Mr. Potter," Severus said smoothly, grabbing Hermione's attention as he strode purposely towards them.

Hermione took in the familiar sight of his dark robes billowing out around his long, smooth stride like dancing shadows clinging to his person, and she ached to touch him. His rough, chiseled features made her breath catch as she admired the powerful, intelligent wizard that she alone was able to call husband. It didn't matter to her that he'd never meet anyone's description of being classically handsome – not when his raw masculinity was so bloody appealing and did such a number on her senses.

During Severus's recovery, they'd talked extensively about their months apart and what each wanted or expected from the other. Since that first spat, Severus had been as frank and forthright with her as he possibly could be, so much more than he'd ever been before. It was a welcome change, and one that enabled Hermione to be equally candid with him. They'd never play games with the other's emotions or try to make decisions for the other, believing they knew best.

Mutual respect. That was their foundation going forward from this point on.

"Hello, sir," Harry said woodenly, clearly uncomfortable. He glanced beseechingly at Hermione, searching for a cue on what to say or how he should behave. Slightly, Hermione pleaded with him to make an effort and be the first to make an overture. Merlin knew Severus would never willingly do so, despite everything else that had occurred. Sighing loudly, likely solely for Hermione's benefit, Harry requested, "Would you mind just calling me Harry?"

Severus's face was a blank mask, unmoving apart from the brief flick of his eyes as he took in the pleading expression she was now leveling his way. Finally, stiffly, he drawled, "I suppose."

"Right," Harry said, fidgeting with his glasses.

"Harry," Hermione prompted pointedly.

"Right…yeah," her friend said again. "Er, I wanted to thank you – for everything. I owe you, well…I wouldn't be here now if you'd not done all you did," Harry rambled, though Hermione could tell the sentiment was genuine.

"You're welcome," Severus replied after a stunned second of silence. Hermione doubted he ever actually expected Harry to acknowledge his part in everything. She discreetly coughed into her hand when he said nothing more. Severus rolled his eyes, but brusquely added, "Harry."

"I think that was a great start, but we best not push it. Harry, do you know about dinner at the Burrow next Sunday?" Hermione asked, moving to loop her arm through Severus's. He shifted immediately to adjust for her shorter frame, and Hermione's heart leapt at the warmth soaking into her side.

He was really alive and with her.

Each day she was amazed all over again that it was true. They'd really have a future together.

"Er, yeah. I'll see you guys then," Harry confirmed, making Hermione smile brilliantly at the way he included Severus as though his presence with her was a foregone conclusion.

Of course the man in question had refused point blank two nights earlier when she'd returned from Fred's funeral and told him of the invitation, but she figured she could wear him down over the next few days and tempt him into joining her. Offering him incentives could certainly be worthwhile…for both of them.

"That went well," she said brightly.

"Precisely how often are you expecting me to converse with him and your other friends?" Severus demanded as they made their way into the dungeons and towards their rooms together for the first time since their marriage had become public knowledge.

"Only a few times a week," Hermione assured him quickly.

"You must be joking," he huffed, clearly horrified by the prospect.

"They'll grow on you, promise," she said flippantly, strangely anticipating all of the rants and insults she knew she'd be privy to hearing in the foreseeable future as he was subjected to her friends' presence. Their originality and creative flourish often made them quite entertaining.

And he'd endure those friends too – for her sake. Because they were important to her. And she was important to him.

"Like a noxious fungus," he muttered, lips curling at the unpleasant thought.

Ignoring the comment, Hermione asked, "McGonagall accepted your terms?"

"She did, though she stated her intentions to convince me to stay beyond next year. She's just looking to put off filling the post as long as possible."

"Faculty turn-over shouldn't be such an issue anymore now that the curse is broken," Hermione remarked casually.

"Don't look to me to end the annual exodus. I'll leave that accomplishment for the next idealistic fool. I've had enough of teaching imbeciles for one lifetime – regardless of how cajoling Minerva is."

"But you cleared the air between you?" Hermione asked, knowing how much it meant to Severus that the people he'd been closest to for the last decade not think ill of him.

"As much as we could in a two hour discussion," he said, unable to completely conceal the hurt he still felt that they'd lost faith in him, despite all the evidence stacked against him.

"You had to start somewhere. I think this next year will be good for all of you," Hermione said optimistically, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Of course you do," he said drolly.

She ignored his tone to ask the question that had been weighing on her mind for days. "Did she mention us?"

Hermione worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she waited for Severus to answer her. As silly as it was, she was loath to disappoint her favorite teacher in any way.

"She did," Severus confirmed, nodding his chin briefly.

Hermione waited for him to say more. He didn't. "You can be so irritating. You know that?" she huffed, reaching over to smack his chest.

"She was…surprised," he relented, quietly chuckling.

"But was she upset by it?" Hermione pressed, wishing he'd simply tell her everything and ease her mind already.

"I don't think she quite believes it yet. She certainly didn't see how we could possibly suit one another or how we'd been together for so long with no one the wiser. But she doesn't disapprove, if that is your concern," Severus said, and she could tell, more from what he didn't say than what he did, that he must have discussed their marriage at great length with McGonagall. Possibly, they'd even discussed McGonagall's own doomed relationship.

"And the other staff?" she asked tentatively.

"You will be welcomed here and respected as my wife, Hermione. Rest assured no one is in doubt nor will they condemn us after the way Potter announced it to the world," Severus promised, giving her the tenderest look he'd ever donned. There was pride in his expression as well. He enjoyed others knowing they were together – in knowing he'd secured her love.

"That's a relief," Hermione said, wondering if Flitwick would approach her at some point about what he'd walked in on at the end of her sixth year. Not that she'd be seeing that much of him after she started at the Ministry. "Oh! Were you able to get our Floo connected to the Ministry?"

"It will be done by the end of the week," he assured her, bringing his free hand up to caress the back of her hand where it rested on his arm. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the contact, but she forced herself to temporarily ignore it.

"Excellent! I have so much studying to get through before I sit my exams. I really didn't want to waste any time filling out tedious paperwork –"

Severus came to an abrupt halt on the final set of descending steps. "You intend to spend every moment studying before sitting your exams then taking the Ministry by storm?"

"I drew up a schedule this morning, and if I'm to get through an entire year's worth of material, I will need every possible minute," Hermione explained practically, fighting the urge to laugh at his disgruntled expression. He looked like Crookshanks had the one time Hermione had dared to give him a bath.

"You could pass every one of them without ever cracking a book, and you know it," he replied crisply, as though it were an obvious fact and not the highest praise she'd ever heard from him.

"Because I am the cleverest witch of my age?"

"Because you are an insufferable know-it-all," he retorted smartly.

"And to think, I scheduled time for us in there, but if you're going to be like that, perhaps I should put the time to better use," Hermione said primly, urging him forward once more.

"Better use?" he demanded, wrapping an arm around her from behind and pulling her flush against his chest. His thick length pressed insistently against the small of her back, undeniable evidence of his anticipation and interest.

"Yes," Hermione said tartly, "our time –"

Severus bent, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive shell of her ear as he whispered, "Time for us to do what, wife?" The last was nearly a purr, and made her practically melt at the heat that it sent surging through her limbs.

Madam Pomfey's warnings blared through her mind, but she turned a blind eye, willfully ignoring them. Surely a little exertion couldn't be that detrimental to Severus's health? And right then, Hermione really needed the physical reminder to reassure her that he'd truly survived Nagini's bite.

"Let's just say it involves keeping my mouth occupied so you won't have to listen to all of my incessant chatter that you despise so much," Hermione answered, tipping her head to peek up through her lashes as she tried to give him a coy smile.

It must have appeared more seductive than she'd dared hope for, because he groaned and nearly carried her forward as he rushed them down the final corridor.

"Now that sounds like a worthwhile endeavor. I apologize for not giving it the respect it deserves," Severus said crisply. Hermione snorted, thoroughly amused by his sudden change in attitude. "When were you planning to fit me in?"

"Now," she breathed, boldly cupping him through his pants as they reached the door to their rooms. His rigid length pressed hot and hard against her palm, twitching in eagerness.

"Ah, the correct answer. I should have expected you to know precisely what to say."

A giddy rush of satisfaction that she had the power to make him noticeably aroused filled her, and she pressed her body harder against his while he fumbled with the handle, abruptly clumsy.

A string of curses broke the silence, echoing through the corridor as he swore a blue streak and struggled to get them inside. Hermione failed to stifle her laughter, which had him pinning her with his darkest scowl before he claimed her mouth in a soul-searing kiss.

Their lips and teeth messed together, rough and primitive as the door finally gave way and they tumbled inside. As soon as he'd slammed the solid oak shut, Hermione nudged his back against its surface. With a final languid taste of his mouth, she dropped to her knees before him and licked her lips in anticipation, wrestling another heady groan that rumbled through his chest with the action.

Deftly, she unbuckled his belt, pausing to teasingly trace the outline of his cock through the black fabric as she mentioned, "Madam Pomfrey said we needed to wait another week before you were medically cleared for sex, but –"

"You spoke to her about our private –"

"- she didn't specifically say I couldn't do this to you in the meantime," Hermione finished, easing one button on the placket open with each word she spoke.

With the last button freed, Severus's length sprang forward, bobbing just before her. Immediately, Hermione's tongue swiped out for a teasing pass across the tip, effectively distracting him if the hitch in his breath was any indication.

They might not be able to have sex again yet, but she'd take just as much pleasure in this as Severus would. Because it was him. And he was hers.

Hers to take care of, and hers to love.

Forever.

"My devious little wife," he said, gravel filling his throat.

Hermione fought back her smile at his comment as she traced a path from root to tip with her lips, sucking and flicking her tongue tauntingly against the sensitive vein running the length of him. With an eagerness stemming from being denied the opportunity to do this for far too long, Hermione took him in her mouth, stretching her jaw wide to accommodate his thick girth.

She swallowed him down, taking nearly all of him in before pulling back to work a more manageable portion. The spasm that had the tip of him hitting the roof of her mouth and the unrestrained, "Hmm," that filled her ears told her precisely how much he appreciated the action, a trick she'd learned early on was guaranteed to drive him wild. It was like their own secret language.

Fingers wove through her hair, tangling in the curls as she sucked and licked, finding a rhythm that wrung breathy encouragements from a man known for being stingy with praise. Hermione cupped his balls, palming the orbs with one hand while the other grasped the base of his shaft, alternatively squeezing and pumping the searing rod.

Initially, Hermione scented the stringent odors of disinfectants and medical potions lingering about him from his recent stint in the hospital wing, but the longer she worked him over, the more she detected his natural musky sandalwood scent returning. Its familiar aroma was comforting and intoxicating, embracing her with the reassuring knowledge that Severus was truly with her. His vitality was a physical truth pulsing and flexing beneath her hands.

With a final caressing swirl and hard pull from her mouth, Hermione raked her nails along the tender skin of Severus's inner thigh, knowing it would send him over the edge.

"Hermione!" he gasped, unprepared for her action a half second before arching his back and spilling his salty essence in steady streams that she greedily swallowed.

She was breathing heavily when she finally sat back on her heels, tipping her head to take in all of Severus.

"Hermione," he said again, her name a benediction and plea all in one. He looked overwhelmed and vulnerable. As though he couldn't believe this moment was real. It was a state she could completely relate to.

"Tell me you love me, Sev," Hermione requested, throwing him the rope that would bind them together.

"You know I do," he said immediately, and he was right that she did, but he said the words regardless, "I love you, Hermione."

"Hold me?"

In an instant, he had her up and in his arms as he carried her to the sofa, pausing only long enough to cast a spell to right his clothes first. She leaned close to his side, her legs draped across his lap. When their lips met, it was long and deep, a union that fused two halves of a whole.

"I noticed a new scar on your thigh," Hermione said against his lips.

"I've no doubt you've a few new ones for me to discover as well," he returned, dodging an explanation.

"Did it happen here or at a meeting?" she pressed, leaning back to see his stony expression.

Sighing, he relented, admitting, "Here. One of the Hufflepuffs set a trap for the Carrows. Luckily, I was the one foolish enough to spring it."

"Luckily?"

"If it had been successful, I'd have had no way to mitigate the punishments doled out by the siblings. Instead, I wear a souvenir of my failures from this last year."

"You're punishing yourself unjustly," Hermione argued, weaving her fingers into his soft locks to cup the back of his head. "You did everything you could to protect the students. The things that happened aren't all your responsibility, there's plenty of blame and credit, guilt and pride to go around. And most of the students are stronger for having learned to stand up for themselves and others – those qualities shouldn't be overlooked or discounted. One of these days you're going to believe me when I say we are all grateful for your role at Hogwarts this last year."

"It's easier when I hear the conviction in your voice," he breathed, closing his eyes.

Hermione took advantage to press a chaste kiss against his lips before vowing, "Then I'll remind you every time you start to forget or doubt it."

They spent the rest of the day snuggling on the couch while she poured over books studying, with Severus occasionally quizzing her or pointing out something he thought might be particularly useful for her to know. The entire time, they each took pains to maintain some form of contact between them.


The quiet hum of voices roused Hermione long before she was actually ready to wake. Her body was heavy from slumber and sluggish, resistant to the idea of facing the day to come after so little sleep as she rolled out from under the cozy, soft blankets to investigate who Severus was speaking with.

"She's still abed, Potter." The statement made Hermione pause, and she listened at the door, curious to see how the two would engage without her there to play referee. "The ceremony doesn't begin for a few hours, and she could do with a bit more rest, so I'll not wake her just for you to prattle on about some inane thing or another."

He was right. The night before Severus had surprised her with a date night in London. They'd had dinner at a Muggle restaurant then seen a performance of Les Miserables. Hermione had been thrilled by the gesture and the evidence that he'd remembered that Victor Hugo was her favorite Muggle author.

They'd stayed downtown for hours afterwards, until the sky had begun lightening to a pale lavender-grey. The night had been unusually warm thanks to the heat wave lingering throughout Britain that summer, and they'd lost themselves debating the pros and cons of Victor Hugo and Alexander Dumas's works while walking along the Thames.

Hermione had known it was his way of keeping her occupied and taking her mind off what this day would bring, because in a few hours they would be holding a memorial service at Hogwarts to honor all who'd died during the war and celebrate the accomplishments of those who'd fought. To say she was dreading the bleak reminder was an understatement. Particularly after she'd spent the last five months focusing on moving forward and embracing her life.

Being with Severus had made that incredibly easy to do. The night before hadn't been anything out of the ordinary for him. He frequently located new books he thought she'd enjoy or made sure to have her favorite tea ready when she was finished getting ready in the morning before heading to the Ministry, then he'd sit with her for a spell, insisting it was the only way he'd ever want to start a day. He'd even begun wearing the navy blue, forest green and silvery grey shirts Hermione had splurged and bought him with her first paycheck because she wished to see him dressed in something aside from somber black all the time. It was all the little things that they'd never had the chance to experience before the war ended, but they added up and were the reasons she loved Severus even more now than she had before.

"I actually came early to have a word with you – if you don't mind, that is," Harry replied, clearly uncomfortable, but obviously intending to plow ahead regardless.

Hermione considered joining them, but Severus responded before she could. "Yes?" he prodded crisply.

Hermione found she was so intrigued to discover the reason Harry had come that she'd not have gone back to bed even if she could have fallen asleep. As far as Hermione was aware, this was the first time Harry was willingly seeking out Severus's company. Besides, despite her exhaustion, she found she could no longer sleep when Severus wasn't in bed with her. Whenever she tried, she'd inevitably be woken by nightmares of her torture at Bellatrix's hands.

The events of that day were already indelibly marked on her body, the scars refusing to fade or close regardless of the potions Severus insisted on treating them with; she despised when they invaded her unconscious mind as well. That was probably a large part of why he'd kept her out so late the night before. It was inevitable, what with the memorial fresh in her mind, that they'd make a reappearance if she slept for too long.

"I–I'm glad she has you. After seeing you guys together, I can't imagine anyone better for her," Harry answered slowly, though it sounded as though that wasn't actually what he initially intended to say. "Not that you need or want my approval, but Hermione is the closest thing to family I have, so I want what's best for her, and you clearly make her happy."

There was a long pause, and Hermione held her breath as she waited to see how Severus would respond. She knew he hated that others felt they had a right to judge or criticize them, which fortunately didn't happen often as he spent much time in the castle. But she had told him about the few Ministry workers who'd been brazen enough to question her when she first started. And this was Harry. The boy who still managed to ruffle Severus's feather without meaning to more often than not.

"I believe I may have been too hasty when I determined that you are just like your father," Severus finally remarked.

"You think I'm like my mum?" Harry asked, startled.

"No. I think you are entirely your own man, Harry," Severus allowed.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from squealing enthusiastically. It had taken months of regular contact and her defusing easily misconstrued comments that one or the other made offhandedly, but here was finally a sign that it was working!

"Thanks," Harry said, and she could readily picture the bashful smile he was likely wearing as he shifted awkwardly.

"But I've a feeling you didn't come here on such an important day merely to evaluate my marriage to your best mate," Severus said coolly, likely surveying her friend with those penetrating eyes she adored so much.

"You're right, I didn't. I wondered…well, you were in the best position…er, what I mean is…."

Hermione pressed a hand against her mouth to hide her laughter, recalling the tension and stuttering that had taken place the first few times Harry and Severus had spent time together over the summer. During their first few interactions, Severus remained mostly silent, only really conversing when Luna or Ginny addressed him directly. For some reason, he seemed to find it infinitely easier to engage with her two female friends than he did with Harry, Ron, or Neville.

All of her friends had taken to regularly dropping by and their interactions with Severus had progressed from stilted silence and polite pleasantries to an actual exchange of dialogue, usually related to the latest news on Death Eater hunting, but since Severus knew them, it was a natural segway. But this, now, was taking it a step further.

Impatiently, Severus demanded, "Spit it out, Potter."

"Would you be willing to tell me about my mum, sir?" Harry asked in a rush.

"Have a seat," Severus replied smoothly, likely having already anticipated the request from her friend and mentally prepared for it. He was always several steps ahead like that. "And you might as well stop calling me sir."

"Er, all right…Sss…ah…," Harry floundered, unsure how to finish and what to call her husband.

Sighing impatiently, Severus tersely helped, instructing, "Snape will do for now."

Hermione retreated back to the bed, grabbing a book on the way, then settled in to read while she gave them a bit of privacy to discuss the woman who had initially united the two wizards. She'd probably heard all the stories by then anyways. Severus had been much more open about his former feelings for Lily and their time together since the war ended and she learned the truth.

Though, as grateful as Hermione was to have the topic out in the open, she didn't particularly enjoy discussing Lily more than necessary. It was clear Severus had closed that chapter of his life and he didn't particularly relish dredging up those details. And she finally felt secure enough in them that it was unnecessary to make comparisons.

Some time later, Severus came into the room, and after taking one look at her, announced, "That doesn't make us…friends."

"Whatever you say, Sev," Hermione teased, beaming at him.

"Did you get enough rest?" he asked, moving to sit beside her and kiss her cheek. The tenderness in his question made her heart melt. Who would have ever imagined the fearsome bat of the dungeons was really a giant softie under all the snark and shadows?

"I'll be fine. We should probably get ready though. People have probably already begun arriving, and I want to check on Ron," Hermione said, reaching to tuck a strand of Severus's hair behind his ear. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, making her stomach flip.

"Potter said he's coming with Nymphadora and her son."

"Really?" Hermione asked, a bit surprised Harry hadn't insisted on returning for the pair himself. He took his role as Teddy's godfather quite seriously, borrowing the boy as many times a week as Tonks would allow and showering him with attention.

"You did say Nymphadora was mentoring Weasley, did you not?" Severus queried, a single dark brow inching up as he spoke.

"Well, yes, but –"

"And they did capture the Lestrange brothers together in Damascus just last month," he broke in to remind her.

"Yes, but –"

"They could both do with a friend right now, or do you disagree?"

"Of course not! But –"

"He's not replacing you, Hermione. You will always be his best mate," Severus concluded.

Hermione gasped, stunned to realize that was precisely what she'd been unconsciously worrying about. Ron was still so fragile after everything he'd lost, and he flat out refused to discuss it with her. The few times she'd tired, he'd blown up at her then avoided her for weeks afterwards, until she'd simply stopped trying. As silly as it was, she was jealous to think maybe he talked to Tonks about his pain when he wouldn't talk to her.

"How'd you know?"

"You get yourself all in a tizzy when you know he's coming round, then you spend the evening walking on eggshells so as to avoid saying the wrong thing to him." She'd not realized how obvious she'd been about it all. "He doesn't blame you for being happy or not going through the same grief – I'd never let him through the door if he did. Right now he needs someone he can relate to. It's the first step to recovery."

"I just wish I could help him more," Hermione said petulantly, making Severus snort and roll his eyes at her.

"He needs time," he reiterated, "and I'll deny it if you ever repeat this, but he's proving himself quite capable under Nymphadora's tutelage."

"That's true," Hermione allowed.

Nearly half of the Death Eaters who'd escaped had already been rounded up. Harry had taken on locating those within the British Isles since he'd promised Ginny he'd stay close, while Ron was focusing on those who'd fled abroad. Harry's biggest collar to date had been Lucius Malfoy, whom he'd gotten Draco to help him trick into making an appearance that had led to his arrest. To say Hermione had slept better after that would be an understatement.

She also suspected Ron wouldn't stop or slow down until he'd finally captured Greyback. The same was true for Tonks. The werewolf was proving elusive in the extreme, and given his animalistic tendencies, Hermione worried they'd never catch up with him. Already there'd been "sightings" in at least five different countries that had all turned out to be nothing.

"We'll save time if we shower together," Severus mussed, catching her wrist and giving it a little tug to regain her attention.

"We both know that isn't true, but I'll take you up on the offer regardless," Hermione said, pulling her shirt off as she stood. Immediately, Severus's hands cupped her breasts, gently massaging the globes.

"Perfect," he breathed, and she didn't bother to ask if he was referring to her willingness or her body.

By the time they made it outside, things were in full swing, and she was wishing they'd decided to skip the ceremony entirely. The grounds were packed with witches and wizards of all ages and from all over Britain. Many were gawking at the lingering evidence of the trauma the castle had sustained, despite months of repairs.

Expertly, Severus navigated them to a pair of seats near the rest of the staff and the Order, glaring at anybody who dared approach to talk before they reached their destination. Hermione was relieved to see her friends were all already seated, and Harry was occupying himself with blowing raspberries on a giggling Teddy's stomach while Tonks watched from beside him, a wistful smile on her unusually plain face.

The entire affair was as tedious as she'd feared it would be as members of the Order were given awards, then members of D.A., then other individuals from the Ministry, Severus, herself, Ron, and Harry were each called up respectively. Then the compiled list of every witch or wizard from either side who died in either war was read off one-by-one. It was a long list, accompanied by the cries and sobbing of those left behind.

It all passed in a haze, with Hermione largely going through the motions and saying all that was expected of her, though she did break down into tears when Harry gave his speech, and she was immensely proud of how he spoke of moving forward as a united society without prejudice or preconceptions clouding their hearts.

He was right too. Being more inclusive was the only way to avoid something like this happening again. And hopefully also put a stop to all of the inbreeding that led to wizards like Crabbe existing.

"Will you be at my father's trial?" a drawling voice asked, snaring Hermione's attention.

"Yes. They've asked me to testify," she answered, turning to find Draco Malfoy. He looked far healthier than he had when they'd fled Malfoy Manor together last spring, a bit of color and weight returning to his face. Much more relaxed and at ease too.

"They asked me to as well," he said, clenching his jaw as he glanced away.

"I'm sorry," she replied, sensing how difficult he found the request, though she couldn't get a good read on him beyond that.

"Are you?" he asked, tilting his head to study her.

"Whatever else he was, he was still your father, and I know you loved him," she answered honestly. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't rooting for a guilty verdict that would see Lucius spending the rest of his days locked up in Azkaban, but she had her own ax to grind with the man for what he'd done to her.

"It's been a long while since he was any sort of father. I feel like my father died years ago," Malfoy admitted frankly, scowling and shrugging almost self-consciously after revealing such a personal detail.

"You still have family. Your mum is a good sort, then you have your aunt and cousin," Hermione reminded him, trying to lighten his abruptly dower mood.

From what Hermione had gathered, Malfoy had stayed on with his aunt for a few weeks after the war to help out in the wake of Remus's death. Hermione imagined it was probably out of guilt for how he'd treated his former professor when he'd been alive, especially since that same man had taken him in when he was most in need. Regardless of the reasons, Malfoy had then gone on to help with capturing Lucius and continued to remain on good, if still slightly strained, terms with the Tonks family. He'd even gotten his mum to begin mending her relationship with her sister, Andromeda.

"You must think I'm such a fool. I made so many poor decisions," Malfoy muttered, sighing loudly.

"Does it matter what I think of you?"

"I guess not. Maybe," he said, shrugging again and inadvertently revealing just how uncomfortable he was.

The wizard before her was nowhere near the spoiled brat who had first introduced her to the word Mudblood. He still had a long way to go, but she could detect a glimmer of something in him that was worth giving him a chance.

"I got a post at the Ministry, tracking down Dark Artifacts and confiscating them," he announced suddenly.

"I'm working there as well, and Severus will be too after this school year. He's going to be an Unspeakable," she said proudly, excited that in less than a year he'd finally have the opportunity to pursue something he wanted for himself – not an order from one of his puppet masters.

"Perhaps the three of us could have lunch on occasion," Malfoy suggested hesitantly.

"That sounds lovely, Draco," she agreed, recognizing the olive branch he was trying to extend. If they were really to try rebuilding a better world, one more tolerant and accepting, it had to start somewhere.

"Hermione Snape…I should have known you'd set everything on its ear," he said, chuckling lightly. "You were never one for half measures."

Hermione just smiled, and with a sharp nod, the blond man she'd once believed was so like his father but now knew differently, walked briskly away through the rapidly emptying grounds.

"Is there hope for him?" Severus asked seriously, appearing by her side like a wraith.

"Yes, and I think the credit for that goes to you," Hermione acknowledged, watching his lips curl up at the idea.

"Minerva is seeing the last of the visitors out, thank Merlin," Severus said wearily, clearly having had enough of forced pleasantries for one day.

"This will be the last night of peace and quiet for some time in the castle," Hermione said coyly, an idea she'd been toying with all summer suddenly seeming like the perfect way to dispel the negative of the day.

"I know that look. You're up to something. What did you have in mind?" Severus asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning close enough to brush her nose with his own.

"Care to visit the library with me, husband?" she asked, knowing he'd feel her shallow breathing and seeing the desire in her eyes as she gently scratched the back of his neck, a silent demand for something more intimate.

"Are robes optional?" he prompted, giving her a brief squeeze.

"Yes."

"Lead the way, wife," he ordered, then he made her breath catch when he added, "it's going to be a long night if we're to try even half of the fantasies I've had of you in there."