Author's Note

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

I've tried to hurry through the first bit as much as possible while still making it relevant since it's the same as in the book, but there are a number of new memories about their early time together or events that only involved Severus that I hope you like seeing.

Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Most is changed at least a bit though to fit right.

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


Ch 34: The Path to True Love

The memory that formed around her was such a contrast to the environment she'd experienced the last several hours that she had to blink several times to make sense of it. It was sunny and bright and…cheerful.

A golden sheen gilded her surroundings making them glimmer and shine like the Versaille Palace, both magnificent and pristine. A bird overhead crooned a lullaby as Hermione carefully stepped, avoiding crushing the pretty pink blooms at her feet, though logically she knew she couldn't actually harm them.

She was so busy looking around and taking in the brilliant sunlight, something she'd not seen in days and had feared several times that night that she'd never see again, that she initially overlooked the awkward, bedraggled boy in the baggy clothes. But once she caught sight of him, she found it impossible to look away. Everything about him looked out of place, from his clothes to his obvious discomfort and shyness. He was a far cry from the confident man she'd always known.

It took her a bit by surprise as she watched him approach the vivacious redhead and proudly inform her that she was a witch. Hermione was stunned as she watched the events of what must have been the first time Severus and Lily met unfold. Lily was lovely and sparkling, vitality and joy radiating from her in hypnotizing waves. Severus was clearly fascinated with the charming girl, while she seemed unsure then angry when Petunia got upset.

Hermione's heart went out to the lonely boy he must have been when the meeting didn't go as planned. She could distinctly remember similar encounters from her own childhood. She'd prepare everything she wished to say, hoping to impress her classmates, then when she found herself actually trying to talk to them, they'd be put off by her abrasive, know-it-all personality and she'd be left disappointed and alone – just like Severus was when Lily ran off after her sister.

The scene reformed to show Hermione the pair, clearly friends now, discussing Hogwarts. Severus's anticipation was nearly tangible. His longing for a place to belong, for an escape from an unhappy childhood home, made her heart clench. It was so like Harry, and even a bit like herself. She'd longed for a place to belong, but Severus's desire was so much more potent because he had nothing else in his life. Only his friendship with Lily.

No wonder he clung to her memory so tightly. She symbolized escape from a bleak existence and the promise of a joyous future.

Hermione smiled widely as he relished showing off his knowledge of the wizarding world, seeing it for what it was. He liked the attention, the recognition. In that, he was still the same. It was why she was constantly surprised he didn't enjoy teaching more than he did. Hours on end of countless individuals' attention trained solely on him – well, perhaps the reality didn't actually involve that, but it was supposed to. And of course he'd gone with the fear approach to teaching rather than the adoration way that would have given him the worship he sought, but simply didn't mesh with his personality. There was also the fact that he didn't tolerate stupidity, and a number of Hogwarts students were incurably plagued with the affliction.

As she watched, Severus went from basking in having Lily as an eager audience to feeling shame over Petunia constantly making fun of him. It didn't surprise her when his emotions got the best of him and he accidentally lashed out, hitting Petunia with a branch.

Then he was alone once again as Lily abandoned him.

Hermione was starting to see a pattern emerge. Each memory concluded with Lily choosing someone else over Severus and leaving him alone. It was no wonder he'd assumed Hermione would eventually do the same to him.

The next few scenes showed the journey to Hogwarts and his sorting into Slytherin while Lily went to join James and his friends in Gryffindor. His disappointment in being separated from Lily was only barely overshadowed by his instant dislike and rivalry with the Marauders. It was easy to see how even at Hogwarts, the one thing Severus had been looking forward to, he still didn't fit in, and he'd lost his only friend on top of everything else.

Because once again, Lily had picked others over him.

As more scenes formed and played out, Hermione watched the slow yet undeniably steady progression of Severus and Lily growing further and further apart over the years, not closer. Like so much smoke on the wind until it vanished entirely. Severus obviously desired Lily, coveted her and resented that she could turn her back on him so easily.

Severus seemed to assign James all of the blame for the distance developing between them and how it caused their friendship to decay, while remaining willfully blind to his own role in things. Not to mention Lily's. He didn't see how him getting caught up with the wrong crowd pushed her away, or how she didn't fight to remain in his life. She chose the easier path because he didn't mean half as much to her as she meant to him.

All the while, Lily grew more popular while Severus was left behind, until the day they reached the breaking point and he called her a Mudblood. Whatever lingering friendship had been between them died a swift and permanent death when she refused to forgive him.

She never looked back. She never reached out to repair things. Their friendship didn't matter enough to her – Severus didn't matter enough.

Hermione couldn't imagine ever turning her back on the man. She'd have doggedly hashed it out until both sides understood one another and they recognized how each was hurting the other – both intentionally and unintentionally. If she'd grown up with Severus, he'd never have had a chance to be influenced by Voldemort's lackeys. She wouldn't have given up on him. Not ever.

Just like she'd never given up on Harry. Even when siding with him put her life in danger or when he was a giant prat.

It was devastatingly easy to see how it was possible that Lily never knew how he felt. From the time they got to Hogwarts, he was never more than an afterthought to her. It wouldn't surprise Hermione at all if they'd never even spoken again after fifth year.

Had their relationship been nothing more than a childhood crush, one immortalized and given more significance than it deserved because of the culminating events and Severus's childhood traumas?

Or was that merely wishful thinking on her part?

Hermione had to wrap her arms around her chest as she watched Severus pleading with Dumbledore to save Lily. His pain and regret engulfed the entire memory, making the air thick and chilly. The weight of his pain buried her, left her stranded at the bottom of a grave some six feet under. He sounded so raw and vulnerable as he vowed to do anything.

The next few memories were quick, flashing past her like a flipbook of a running man as he demonstrated time and again his commitment to the vow by actively keeping Harry alive over the years.

The urge to punch Dumbledore surprised her a bit as she listened to him coercing Severus into agreeing to kill him after his hand was cursed. His lack of concern over Severus's soul and the position such an act would put him in hurt him deeply, yet Dumbledore was unrelenting.

But it was even worse to witness the betrayal Severus felt upon discovering the truth about Harry, and how much he felt like he'd failed Lily despite everything.

As he cast his doe Patronus, and vowed, "Always," to Dumbledore's inquiry about loving Lily, she started to wonder why Harry had been so insistent that she watch the memories. It felt slightly petty to think, but Lily hadn't seemed to deserve Severus's love and devotion. Not really. Yet there was no denying that she'd had it. Unconditionally. And it hurt to hear him use that word. Always. He'd said it to Hermione a couple times, and now those memories were slightly tarnished.

She was so caught up in her wallowing, that she nearly missed the calculating gleam in Dumbledore's glacial blue eyes as he examined Severus following his pronouncement.

The next scene was the first one to truly shock her. It was the night her mum died, and she couldn't believe Severus had included it for Harry to see, but he had. It started just as the flash of green light struck her mum, and Hermione cried out, screaming a warning that was far, far too late.

Nothing could change the mere echoes she was witnessing now.

That truth did nothing to stem the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. And now that they'd started, she knew they'd not stop anytime soon. She was giving in to the stress and grief and fear that had threatened to consume her that night.

The words, when they came, were difficult to distinguish through her sobs, but Hermione stuffed a fist to her mouth to muffle her anguish and concentrate on what Severus wished to show Harry about this night.

"Can you believe our luck? I heard him say the Granger chit was here," a masked figure crowed, clapping another on the back, one that Hermione would recognize as Severus anywhere.

His figure, disguised by the bulky robes, was tall and rigid, but at hearing her name, had tensed further, appearing like a rabbit ready to bolt away from a pursuing wolf.

"Where?" Severus barked in response, his head whipping back and forth, long hair swinging like curtains, as he searched the scene for her himself.

Apparently he spotted her, because suddenly he was running towards where she'd been cornered. Just before he reached the spot Crabbe Sr had pinned her against the wall, he settled into a smooth, brisk walk.

Hermione cringed as she watched Crabbe Sr grab the top of her dress, the delicate fabric tearing at the force he used. The sound battled with the echo of the man's son doing the same to her.

"I don't think so, Crabbe. This one... is mine," Severus drawled smoothly, controlling his voice so skillfully, one would never know he'd just been running.

As they debated over her fate, Hermione wondered if this was why Crabbe had done what he had to her. Had his father put him up to it to get back at Severus for "stealing" what he considered his prize? Or were Crabbe's motivations more along the lines of wanting to show his father up? Perhaps prove he was able to acquire something his father hadn't, and was thus superior.

When she'd first experienced the ordeal, she'd not been in a position to see Severus's face, but she could now as he pantomined raping her while actually doing everything he could to be gentle and protect her. He looked torn between disgust and discomfort – at least until he snapped at her to resist him.

Then he looked fairly amused, despite the situation. His lips even twitched in what was possibly the first time she'd ever made him smile as she awkwardly and feebly pretended to yell and push him, her hands fluttering about like wandering butterflies.

Her effort really had been ridiculously fake and it was clear he was whispering encouragement and orders to her. It was a wonder how they'd ever fooled anyone into thinking he'd actually done it.

Oh.

They'd not fooled anyone.

Because there was Lucius, studying them with a perplexed frown as he violated the Muggle woman. He knew. Or at least suspected. Probably because Severus was known for not participating in this sort of thing.

That must have been why he'd suggested the spell. To force Severus to actually have to have sex with her. Azkaban had left Lucius insane, yes, but perhaps not as insane as she'd initially believed.

Vindictive might have been a better qualifier for what he was. She'd have to ask Severus once he woke if Lucius had ever spoken of his motives – prior to informing Voldemort, that was.

As the memory continued, Hermione was a bit startled to realize Severus had already begun feeling the effects of the spell before they even reached Dumbledore's office. She'd grown familiar enough with the signs of his arousal to notice how the pulse in his neck jumped when he yelled at her to cover her bra, or the way he clenched his fist and swallowed compulsively to keep from reaching over and fondling her. Yet he'd refrained and done everything possible to spare her what he imagined was a horrendous fate.

He was the most honorable man she'd ever met.

The spell and the loss of her mum had put her in such a state herself that she'd not noticed the cunning way Dumbledore had looked between the two of them. But she saw it now. The look mirrored the one he'd worn when Severus had vowed to always love Lily. And now Dumbledore was being presented with a situation that…what…allowed him to challenge the notion? Or was he trying to give Severus some small consultation in light of everything else? Hermione wasn't entirely certain of Dumbledore's motives, but it was clear that he couldn't have arranged things more to his liking if he'd tried.

While their binding vows still floated through the air, the space around her swirled, the colors blending like smeared paint before they reformed into a place she was intimately familiar with, though she'd not seen it in nearly a year – Severus's rooms at Hogwarts.

Turning about, Hermione found herself seated on the sofa, a tidy pile of books were stacked on the coffee table before her, while she frantically scrawled on a parchment. Across the room, Severus was at his desk, though he'd turned slightly, and was simply watching her enigmatically. Eventually, he'd turned the desk around altogether so he faced her even as he worked, and she'd taken to spreading out and using the entire surface of the coffee table, sometimes the end table and places on the floor too, but this memory took place before they'd grown that comfortable with one another.

It was not immediately apparent how long ago this memory took place, but she waited, knowing Severus would have had a reason for including it.

"Hff. It's always so bloody cold in the dungeons. It's a wonder you haven't turned into a block of ice," she grumbled, getting up and retrieving a tartan blanket off the armchair Severus favored. Hermione suspected the throw had been a gift from Professor McGonagall. "Who am I kidding? That scowl of yours was surely carved with a chisel, else it wouldn't be so permanent."

Her previous self didn't notice the way a reluctantly amused smile formed on Severus's face at her words, but she saw it now. If she had to guess, he liked that she felt comfortable enough to complain and make herself at home. Or he appreciated the snark of her words. Probably, it was the latter.

The way he watched her wasn't the way he used to watch Lily, as there was nothing covetous about it, but Hermione found she preferred this. It left her feeling like she was giving him pleasure, rather than leaving him with the empty ache of unfulfilled avarice.

"Surely you're nearly done with your essay, then you can escape the frigid lair," he suggested stiffly, somehow managing to sound both offended and offensive all in one go – a tone that in no way matched his expression, she noted.

"No, actually, I keep having to rewrite the blasted reasoning behind Sitzman's theory," Hermione said moodily, rubbing a tired hand over her face.

Ah. So this was a little over two months after they'd married. She'd struggled with the Transfiguration assignment, unsure how she felt about Sitzman's theory that the extra material of a transfigured object either vanishes or appears from nothing when said object is modified. The idea went against her Muggle-raised logic. Not to mention the number of holes in the reasoning that somehow were all glossed over.

Hermione felt herself slipping into the past, easily recalling all that had gone through her mind that evening and feeling like it was occurring all over again as she watched the scene unfold before her. It was so engrossing that her tears, still sliding relentlessly down her cheeks slowed, and she could almost ignore the pressure that had built up between her itchy, stinging eyes from her crying jag.

"Granger, all you're doing is rewriting a textbook, per usual. It can't be that difficult," Severus prodded, turning his head to glance back at the untouched papers on his desk that at the time she'd assumed he'd been marking.

"I don't rewrite textbooks! I explain what I know and use facts to support my statements," Hermione hissed, insulted he'd believe she put so little effort into her work or that she didn't think for herself.

"Hmmm. Surely you've not forgotten how to read. No? Then why are you struggling to find this evidence you seek?"

"Moore's book provides several arguments that support the idea, and Professor McGonagall wouldn't have mentioned it in class if it weren't correct," Hermione said weakly. "But…."

"Do you doubt its validity?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat, displaying a keen interest in her answer.

"Of course. I should have known you'd believe anything you're told," he sneered, deliberately provoking her.

"That's not true at all! Ron says the Chudley Cannons are the best Quidditch team, but that doesn't make me believe it. Even I know they're the worst," Hermione countered, an angry flush blooming over her face.

"Then you don't necessarily agree with Sitzman?" Severus continued doggedly, pushing her more.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, biting the corner of her nail as she contemplated the topic. "It doesn't make sense."

"Well then, what do you think happens? Where does the extra mass come from?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione answered wearily.

"Do you think she's right? Do you think she's wrong? What do you think?"

"What do you think about the theory?" she tossed back, hoping to turn the conversation and hear his opinion. He might be able to offer some insight she'd not yet read about that would convince her one way or another.

"I know what I think – I asked what you think. Come now, you've never had any problem sharing your opinions in the past. What's the matter? Are you scared of being wrong?"

"No!" she hissed, hotly. "Of course it's wrong. If it weren't, they'd be able to properly explain the rate of decay and why there seems to be a correlation to the amount being created."

"Oh? Then what do you think is happening?"

Hermione was silent for nearly a full minute, before she reluctantly admitted, "I don't know." The words seemed dragged from her, the hook catching deep in her gut before they were yanked out. She truly hated owning up to any form of ignorance.

"Come now, Granger, you can't advocate that adamantly or disparage a theory that vehemently without having some idea of why you're convinced something is right or wrong," he insisted, finally twisting in his seat to face her fully, a single dark brow raised inquiringly.

"There are a couple opposing theories," Hermione suggested, wishing she'd stopped by the library to grab the reference books before coming to hide out in Snape's rooms. The sight of Ron and Lavender snogging at the dinner table had scattered all of her carefully formed plans for that evening, and sent her scurrying to the dungeons as quickly as possible instead. Fortunately, Snape hadn't turned her away when she'd arrived unexpectedly.

"I see. You've read a different book, and randomly decided to support it. I should have known you hadn't actually had an original thought yourself," Severus sneered disdainfully.

"Randomly? No original thought? Where do you get off –"

"Nothing that comes out of your mouth isn't merely a repeat of what someone else wrote or said," Severus accused.

"For your information, I always research all sides of a point before making up my mind on what I believe," Hermione replied shrilly, her spine straightening where she sat.

"A truly brilliant mind wouldn't need others to provide the answers for them," Severus said drolly, his lips pressing together in clear disapproval of her line of defense. "They could come up with ideas on their own."

"I do!"

"I've yet to see even a glimmer of such from you – ever. You're no better than your peers, and I'll never understand how you've fooled all the staff into believing otherwise about you."

"One of these days you're going to figure out that I'm not one of those silly nitwit students you despise so much!"

Hermione watched as her memory self stormed into the bedroom to cool off, slamming the door behind her as she went and leaving Severus, who was quietly chuckling.

It was obvious he'd enjoyed verbally sparring with her. That he'd deliberately goaded her into it.

This hadn't been the first time they'd exchanged words, but it had been one of the first times she'd felt comfortable debating a topic with him not as one of her professors, but as an individual. It had also been the first time she'd allowed herself to become truly emotional with him when the spell wasn't involved.

That was why Severus had wanted Harry to see this. It marked a shift in the dynamics of their relationship, and clearly demonstrated that Hermione wasn't being taken advantage of in any way. More and more often after this, he'd poke her until she started coming up with ideas herself using logic and prior knowledge instead of resorting to researching others' ideas in the library.

He'd taught her to think for herself, and was genuinely interested in hearing said thoughts.

"No, you certainly aren't the typical nitwit I'm forced to teach," Severus said quietly, amusement dancing among the words as he took in how riled up he'd managed to get her. "One of these days you're going to figure out just how impressed I am with that fascinating mind of yours then you're never going to let me get away with provoking you."

Hermione gasped.

Their joke about admitting she was brilliant. It had begun just after this night.

Another memory formed, replacing the previous scene and breaking her away from her revelation before she had a chance to analyze it further. This memory also took place in Severus's rooms. The planner Hermione used to organize her time before exams was lying on the coffee table indicating this was just before the end of term and Dumbledore's death.

The memory Hermione was curled up on the sofa, hand resting on the page of a book she must have been reading before she'd fallen asleep.

"It's past curfew, Hermione," Severus murmured, not glancing up from the parchment he held. "Filch will…not matter, seeing as you're staying here tonight," he finished, catching sight of her.

Carefully, Severus moved to cover her with a blanket, taking the book and marking the spot before closing it and stacking it with the others she'd brought with her. He'd just tangled his fingers into her mob of curls, one finger twirling a twisted strand, when Dobby popped into the room.

"Sir, the headmaster is needing to speak with you," Dobby said, shifting from foot to foot and wringing the edge of his sweater between his fists.

"My wife is sleeping. Tell him he can wait until morning," Severus announced dismissively, making Hermione's eyes widen in pleasant surprise.

He didn't want to leave her. He willingly referred to her as his wife. Warmth bloomed in her chest, easing the lingering ache that had been gnawing at her insides since she'd watched her mum die for the second time.

Dobby did not immediately vanish, seeming determined to ignore the implicit dismissal in Severus's statement. Hermione hadn't been sure if the elf had known about them before Malfoy Manor, and she had to admit to being a little surprised he'd not blabbed to Harry sooner. Dobby never was much good at keeping a secret. Though he was infinitely better than Hagrid.

"Your missus made me this, Sir," Dobby volunteered, tugging harder at the hem of his sweater.

"She's got a bleeding heart," Severus snorted, though a reluctant smile curled the edges of his lips.

"You'll take care of her, won't you?" Dobby requested, the heartfelt plea bringing renewed tears to Hermione's eyes. Her efforts to improve the quality of life for house-elves, and grant them rights had actually made a difference for at least one.

Seeing Dobby reminded her of that mission. A sense of clarity came over her. And in that moment, she knew precisely what career she intended to pursue.

"I'm certainly trying to," Severus replied, sifting his fingers through her hair as she slept, completely unaware of the conversation taking place. "She is…remarkable. I can't bear the thought of harm befalling her."

"That's good. I don't know anyone else like her," Dobby said, bobbing his head respectfully.

"No. There's no one else in the world like Hermione," Severus agreed, waiting until Dobby left before he leaned in to lightly brush a kiss over her cheek. He lingered, resting his forehead against hers and breathing her in.

The moment was intimate and private, and for the first time, Hermione truly started to believe what Harry had said to Voldemort about Severus having fallen in love with her. Here he was, falling, and he didn't appear to be scrambling to put a stop to it happening.

Hermione closed her eyes, smiling to herself, but at the sound of a familiar, cold voice, they shot open again to find a new scene having wrapped around her. Death Eaters filled the somber room, talking quietly amongst themselves. A sword of fear sliced the darkness, nearly tangible as those assembled tethered on a cliff's edge.

"How are you enjoying your little plaything? Does she make the days less tedious?" Lucius drawled, leaning close to Severus's ear as he spoke the dangerous words.

"I don't believe this is the forum to discuss such things," Severus said coolly, his entire body stiffening.

"Come now, don't be shy. I just want to know if she's a screamer," Lucius prodded, tapping his serpent-head cane on the floor in a series of echoing clicks that had a few nearby individuals turning to take in their conversation.

"You already know the answer to that," Severus said coldly, a muscle in his clenched jaw ticking visibly.

"Do I? I have my doubts, as I'm sure you can imagine," Lucius said meaningfully.

Hermione supposed that was her answer then. She'd guessed right earily about Lucius's motivation for insisting on using the spell on them.

"Are you certain you wish to discuss this matter in such an open forum where anyone can overhear and inform our master? He did specifically inform us that he wished to deal with Potter himself. This could be seen as interference with that on your part. The Dark Lord is upset enough with you as it is, Lucius. I'd think you wouldn't wish to displease him further by disobeying any more orders," Severus said casually, the thinly veiled threat visible and unmistakable. "Another mistake and…." Severus let his final words trail off, their meaning unmistakable.

"I might have been a bit rash using that spell, but I don't see you rushing to confess everything either," Lucius countered, his lips curling back to reveal the savage beast at his core. "It won't be long now. Once Draco completes his task, my family's standing will return to that of being the Dark Lord's most trusted."

"Of course," Severus said, his doubt a naked blade and just as menacing.

"Our Lord could just as easily blame you. Perhaps I should eliminate the witch altogether so that neither of us need worry," Lucius suggested angrily, afronted by Severus's smugness.

Severus assumed a bored expression, though the tension pouring off of him was palpable as he remarked, "If that's all? I, unlike you, am actually useful to the Dark Lord, so I must be going."

Blackness swept across Hermione's vision, there and gone in an instant as she found herself abruptly in the headmaster's office again. The memories seemed to pieced together like a poorly edited film, but regardless, Hermione had the impression that a very short time had eclipsed between the conversation with Lucius, and the one Severus was having with Dumbledore.

"He threatened her," Severus announced, stalking forward to plant his hands on the heavy wooden desk.

"Who?" Dumbledore inquired calmly, not even bothering to look up from the parchment he was reading, despite the obviously irate man bearing down on him.

"Hermione!" Severus snapped angrily, slamming his hand down on the desk to emphasize the significance of his report.

"Your master threatened her specifically?"

"Lucius," Severus explained tightly. "He threatened my wife."

"I'm sure you handled the situation –"

"Look at me, you bloody bastard," Severus roared, reaching out to knock the paper from the elderly man's grip. "This is your fault!"

"That was important, Severus. I've been waiting months for a lead on that location," Dumbledore said disapprovingly as he bent to retrieve the fallen parchment.

"I don't give a rat's ass about whatever scheme you're up to now – not when Hermione is in danger," Severus hissed, leaning forward to impress his point.

Dumbledore studied him closely, steppeling his fingers beneath his chin. The contrast between the slender, pale fingers and the withered, blackened ones more pronounced than ever. Finally, he asked, "Will he act on his threat?"

"No. He knows better," Severus admitted grudgingly.

"Hmmm. I see," Dumbledore said, polite enough not to point out that Severus was apparently throwing a tantrum for no reason. "It sounds as though you've begun to care for her. Perhaps more than you initially anticipated."

"No one asked you," Severus growled, taking a few jerky steps back before crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"It was bound to happen."

"Because sex is involved?" Severus asked crudely, as though hoping to shock Dumbledore into dropping the line of conversation.

"Because I can't imagine anyone better suited for you," Dumbledore corrected, utterly unabashed.

Severus sighed, his anger draining faster than the water in a tub after the stopper gets pulled. Woodenly, he reminded the headmaster, "It's not a love match, Albus. She was forced to be with me."

"That doesn't mean she hasn't developed real feelings since. I believe anyone who you allow to see the real you would."

"I'm not discussing this with you."

"I believe it's necessary," Dumbledore insisted, tapping his fingertips on the parchment that had previously captivated his interest. "I've not much time left to do so."

"I could kill you now, if you'd like," Severus offered, glowering darkly.

"You'll have your chance very soon," Dumbledore said, huffing a bit as he smoothed the parchment.

"If the Dark Lord learns about Hermione, you'll have to find someone else to kill you," Severus warned unrelentingly and without a trace of hesitation.

"You'd die for her, Severus?"

"You don't sound at all surprised by that," Severus grumbled, likely maddened that the man was able to read him so easily. "If something happens to her…I can't allow myself to care for her – I wouldn't survive losing her as well."

"Oh, my dear man," Dumbledore said kindly, a loving smile ghosting over his face as he took Severus's defeated stance in.

"Don't. This is your fault. You put me in this impossible position," Severus grumbled.

"I'd hoped she would be good for you…that you'd let her be there for you…hoped a real connection would form between the pair of you," Dumbledore admitted. "You're even better for one another than I'd hoped, if I'm honest."

"Was that why you insisted we marry?"

"I merely wished to show you a glimpse of the future you could have. The one you've earned."

"I've made so many poor decisions in my life," Severus denied, shaking his head, "I deserve nothing – certainly not someone as good as Hermione."

"I believe that is up to her," Dumbledore countered, a twinkle sparking in his brilliant blue eyes. Hermione had missed the sight.

"I can offer her nothing. I'm too set in my ways. Too callous. Too solitary. Too harsh," Severus argued, rattling off excuses that he'd clearly been considering for some time.

"You'll learn – not that she seems to mind overly much as it is. But being vulnerable to another is the most difficult thing in the world, and look how far you've already come with her. You have your whole life ahead of you to get better at it," Dumbledore encouraged, though the jovial smile he wore melted at the bleak expression twisting Severus's harsh features into a bleak mask.

"I'm not a chess piece on some master game board that you can forever maneuver about and protect whenever necessary. I'm a spy – one you've ordered to kill you, then betray the Dark Lord at the last minute. I've a sword dangling less than an inch over my neck. We both know my days are as numbered as yours," Severus predicted, much as he had any number of times since that fateful night his life had become irrevocably tied to hers.

"I sincerely hope you're wrong about that," Dumbledore said wearily, slumping back into his seat and looking utterly gutted.

"Why?"

"Because Harry is not the only one I love as though he were my own," he answered, sounding pained that his motives were even in question. Severus didn't even try to mask his doubt. "I can see that you do not believe me, but I hope one day you will."

Sirius Black's bedroom formed the backdrop for the next memory. Severus stood in the middle of the ransacked room, staring at the picture Harry carried around with him of his mum chasing after his toddler-self riding a toy broom. A frown pinched a deep furrow in Severus's brow as he examined the photo.

"Why do you insist on clinging to the ghost of what you never had when you have a flesh and blood wife that's yours for the having?" Phineas Black inquired boldly from the gilded frame of an empty portrait, the occupants having abandoned the canvas in favor of other parts of the large manor.

"An apt point," Severus said vaguely, an indecipherable mask descending over his features as he refused to give away more than he wished.

"Dumbledore believes you love the witch," Phineas said haughtily.

"The batty old fool gossips too much. My relationship with Hermione is private and none of your business," Severus replied coolly, glaring at the Slytherin headmaster the same way he did when he was deliberately frightening first years.

"I never said which witch he was referring to, but I guess your response is confirmation enough," Phineas remarked, flashing Severus a broad smirk before slinking off.

It wasn't precisely a declaration of love, but it was near enough to one that her heart skipped a beat before fluttering faster than a hummingbird's wings.

A moment later, Severus sighed, frowning at the photo he held once more. After a second, he admitted, "Unfortunately for her, it is. She could do so much better."

And with that, he dropped the image of his former love and left the room without a backwards glance.

Another memory followed right on the heels of the last, and was so short that Hermione almost missed the significance of it all together.

The room had reformed into the headmaster's office, but only Severus was there. Silently, he sat at the large wooden desk, staring fixedly at a parchment on the surface. Absently, he ran a single fingertip tenderly over the surface, seeming to trace whatever was written. Curious, Hermione moved to read over his shoulder, but found herself gasping at what she saw.

It was the parchment Hermione had charmed for them to communicate with, except nearly every inch of the paper was covered in her familiar, miniscule script.

The magical parchment was spelled so that the reader could vanish a message after receiving it, so that they never ran out of room. But apparently Severus had been saving her messages, because only a single minute square of blank space remained.

It was honestly no wonder he'd barely spoken to her this last year. He'd saved bits and pieces from their previous conversations until he was nearly out of room altogether.

Hermione was still marveling over the unspoken meaning behind the gesture when one of the portraits, Dilys Derwent, spoke up, saying, "You could always write and tell her how much you miss her."

"If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it," he mumbled, scowling and flushing at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. "Bloody busybodies. Nothing better to do with their time than interfere in my marriage."

Hermione bit her lip, trying to contain the cautious optimism threatening to swallow her. It didn't work. She could plainly see how much he genuinely cared for her. All these memories were pieces of a puzzle displaying Severus's emotions, his heart. What was more, he'd wanted Harry to know. It was further confirmation that what Harry had announced to the world was true.

Severus might just love her as much as she loved him.

It was…

The scene vanished before she could form the end of her thought and she was so startled by Severus slamming into the room that she jumped, a tiny squeak escaping her at his obvious anger.

"Potter was injured," Severus declared without preamble, stalking over to glare at Dumbledore's portrait.

"Was?" the bespectacled man asked mildly, looking far less concerned than Hermione thought he should given the news.

"I healed him," Severus replied, clenching his teeth hard enough to make a muscle in his jaw tick steadily.

Oh. This was just after Christmas when Hermione had taken Harry to Spinner's End when Nagini bit him.

"Good. That's very good," Dumbledore acknowledged, nodding as though he wasn't concerned in the least. "I knew you were the right wizard to trust such a task to."

"I thought you wanted him dead. Isn't that the point?"

"Not like that, Severus," Dumbledore chided, pressing his lips together as he somehow managed to look down at Severus like he was little more than a misbehaving child. "What else is troubling you?"

Severus was quiet for so long that Hermione wondered if he'd answer at all. Probably, he was debating how much of the truth he should confess to. Reluctantly, almost begrudgingly, he quietly said, "Hermione asked me if I wanted her heart."

"Do you?"

"I never wanted any of this! This wasn't supposed to happen. I never wanted to be in a position where a witch could hurt me again." Severus's hands tangled in his hair, his gripping the onyx strands so tightly, Hermione could see the roots straining against his scalp. Nearly inadibly, he finished, "I never thought there could be someone aside from Lily – not for me. I never…Hermione…."

"But there is Hermione. And she asked if you want her heart. Do you?" Dumbledore asked again.

"Of course I bloody do!" Severus bellowed, quickly spinning to knock all of the clutter that had accumulated on his desk to the floor in a cacophonous crash.

Hermione stared, stunned as she recalled their conversation in bed when she'd possessed the question. She'd had no idea how tumultuous his emotions had been on the matter.

"Bloody hell," he sighed, collapsing into the desk chair and burying his face in his hands as he explained, "All I could do was nod when she asked, and I could only do that much because I knew she couldn't see."

"You should have told her the truth," Dumbledore advised sagely. "You still can."

"What should I say? Yes, I love you, but don't mourn me when I'm gone? You know her…she's as loyal as they come. It will be infinitely harder on her to move on and find happiness with another if she knows that I return her feelings – that I'm desperately in love with her. That what I feel for her eclipses my feelings for Lily, because this time it's real and reciprocated…not limerence. Not an impossible, juvenile crush.

"Or – Merlin help me for daring to hope – I did survive, I'd never let her go. She'd never be able to change or mind. I'm too possessive. I've never had anyone…I don't know how to love. I'd end up strangling and suffocating her with it."

There it was. He'd actually admitted aloud that he loved her. As much as she'd yearned to learn the truth of his feelings, she wished the circumstances were different. She wanted him to tell her directly. But in order for that to happen, he'd have to wake up.

Experiencing this rare glimpse into Severus's head was incredible, but now she was impatient for it to be over so that she could see him for herself and inform him in no uncertain terms how wrong he was about what would happen now that they could truly be together.

"I highly doubt that should be a genuine concern. We both know she's strong enough to stand up to you, and patient enough to help you navigate through the unfamiliar terrain," Dumbledore said mildly, waving off Severus's concerns with little fanfare.

"Yes, you're right, she would," Severus agreed, relaxing Hermione. His easy copitulation about her ability to be his equal partner made her swell with pride. "Not that it matters. I didn't tell her the truth."

"You think it will be easier if she never knows? Severus, what have I always said about –"

"I don't want that pain for her. I don't want her wasting all the years I did. I want her to have options, and to take advantage of them," Severus argued, glancing wistfully out the window as though picturing a future that he believed was forever out of reach for him.

"Options?" Dumbledore repeated, sounding more than a smidge intrigued by the statement. "Have you anyone in mind? I believe Harry –"

"Not Potter. Never Potter," Severus refuted vehemently.

"Then perhaps Mr. Weasley? I believe there was something there before she married you," Dumbledore suggested, seeming to derive entirely too much pleasure out of watching Severus's reactions.

"She doesn't love him. Not the right way," he said dismissively, swatting the name away like it was actually a buzzing gnat fluttering in the air. Severus frowned, apparently giving the matter a bit of serious contemplation, because after a moment, he remarked, "Longbottom has really grown into himself this year."

Concern washed over Dumbledore's face, and he softly apologized, "I'm truly sorry, Severus."

The room was quiet for a bit as Severus composed himself.

Hermione was just starting to wonder why the memory hadn't ended, when he asked, "Why hasn't my Patronus changed?"

"Because now you're grateful to Lily. Without her, you wouldn't be here now. You never would have been in a position to have fallen in love with Hermione."

The room blurred, clouding over as the memory morphed yet again, except this time it didn't begin with Severus being upset or angry as he'd been much of the time. No, this time he was bent double, clutching his middle as he gasped for breath.

"Dobby!" he barked, grunting several times through clenched teeth.

"Sir called for Dobby?" the house-elf squeaked, shifting uncertainly in the corner of the room where he'd suddenly appeared.

"Can you find them? Hermione is in trouble," Severus explained, screwing his eyes shut as though willing the pain to subside.

"N-no, sir," Dobby admitted reluctantly.

"They were in Gwydir Forest last night," Phineas Black supplied helpfully. "Near the riverbank. I could hear the water."

"Wait here, Dobby. I might need you. Phineas, see if you can speak with them," Severus ordered, straightening.

"I suppose I –"

"NOW!" he yelled, heading towards the fireplace to Floo somewhere that would allow him to Apparate.

Dumbledore protested, concerned as ever about the bigger picture as he began, "Severus, think this –"

Severus ignored him, tossing the glittering powder into the hearth as he brusquely called, "The Three Broomsticks!"

He'd barely emerged from the emerald flames to stumble into the nearly empty pub before he was turning on the spot, the dense foliage of a forest appearing in the same movement. Severus ran full out along the riverbank, and Hermione raced to keep pace with him.

Hermione recognized the area a split second before Severus skidded to a halt, the tattered remnants of their destroyed tent littered the ground and scorch marks blacked the trunks of several splintered trees. There were no smells in the memory, but she imagined the lingering bite of burnt ozone prevaded the area as well.

"Hermione," he whispered through heavy pants, puffs of fog billowing from him as he scanned the surrounding grove, but there was no sign of life. The forest was silent as a grave in the aftermath of the fight.

Sweat was dripping along Severus's hairline, the dark locks more limp and tangled than ever by the time they returned to the castle and he faced Dobby, demanding, "Anything?"

"Young Master Malfoy's head appeared in your fire. He asked for you to come, but sir wasn't here," Dobby relayed, looking even more anxious than he sounded, if such a thing were possible.

"Did he mention Hermione?" Severus pressed, holding a clenched fist against his gut as another pained breath whistled through his crooked teeth.

Hermione could practically see the wheels in his head turning as he processed the significance of the news.

"No, sir, but –"

"She must be there. Can you enter Malfoy Manor undetected?"

"Y-yes, yes, sir. Dobby can, but –"

"Severus, Harry was with her," Dumbledore reminded pointedly. "Your master –"

Her husband sneered, but addressed the house-elf anyways, asking, "Can you get Potter out?" Dobby nodded frantically, almost eager to help the Boy-Who-Freed-Him, despite knowing that meant returning to his former prison. "Then go. Take him somewhere safe."

Dobby vanished with a loud crack!

Severus doubled over again, groaning, but quickly shook it off and headed towards the fireplace for the second time. Dumbledore beckoned him to reconsider, cautioning, "Severus, let Dobby assist them. You mustn't –"

Again, her husband ignored his mentor. Dumbledore looked displeased, but resigned as Severus called, "Malfoy Manor!"

As Severus whooshed out of sight, Hermione finally tumbled out in the present-day headmaster's office. Dumbledore's portrait was beaming at her, but she didn't think she could acknowledge him without railing or using enough curses to turn his cheeks permanently red after all that she'd just seen.

Severus. Was he awake yet? Had Madam Pomfrey been successful?

She needed to see him for herself.

"Harry?" Hermione called, not immediately seeing her friend. Where – "Harry!" she gasped, rushing over to where he was slumped in a chair, completely passed out.

Hermione shook his shoulder, firing a glare at Ron for not doing anything more than stare off into space like a zombie.

"'M fine, Hermione," Harry slurred, not bothering to open his eyes as he spoke.

"You need to go to the hospital wing and get checked out. You died tonight, Harry," Hermione said primly, hoisting his arm over her shoulder to help heave him up when it became apparent he was unable to stand on his own.

Emerald green eyes made a brief appearance as Harry blinked slowly, the lids never opening past half-mast as he joked, "I know. I was there."

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, choking on a teary laugh. Ron still hadn't moved, so she ordered, "Ron! Help me with him."

On autopilot, Ron took Harry's other side. But as worried as she was about her friends, she was most worried about her husband.

"Come on. I need to check on Severus."

"What did you think of his memories?" Harry asked as they slowly descended the destroyed staircases, having to take a longer route thanks to the extensive damage.

"I don't think he intended for me to see them," she acknowledged.

"I don't think he believed he'd live through this, but he did, and he truly loves you," Harry murmured, leaning more heavily on her. "If it helps, you have my support – whatever you choose to do."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said gratefully.

By the time they reached the hospital wing, Harry was practically asleep on his feet, and Ron still hadn't uttered a single word.

As soon as Harry plopped down on an empty cot, Hermione tried to go to Severus.

"She hasn't finished with him yet," Luna informed her, stopping her from slipping behind the curtain where Madam Pomprey was still treating Severus.

"But he's no worse, right?" Hermione asked, hoping for some news. Professor McGonagall wasn't around anymore, probably because she was needed elsewhere in the castle to organize the aftermath of the battle.

"Not as far as I know," Luna said gently, patting Hermione's shoulder before she headed over to the boys and left Hermione standing just outside the thick cotton curtain that was the only remaining barrier seperating her from her husband.

Nearly an hour passed, during which Hermione paced anxiously, before Madam Pomprey drew the curtain back to allow Hermione access to Severus.

His cheeks were no longer cast in a ashy palor of death, but he was still much paler than usual. Thick white bandages encased his neck, probably to keep some sort of salve or oinment in place since Hermione had already sealed the wound Nagini had given him. Long tendrils of inky hair snaked out across his pillow, and Hermione was pleased to note that they were free of blood and looked softer than ever. She itched to run her fingers through them, but was hesitant to distrub him. There was still such an air of fragility around him.

Slowly, almost fearfully, Hermione approached his bedside.

"He'll recover?" she forced herself to ask candidly.

"He's always been a stubborn one," Madam Pomprey said by way of answer.

Carefully, Hermione wove her fingers through Severus's and stared at where his chest rose and fell roughly.

An hour passed, but Severus didn't wake.

Madam Pomfrey finished with Harry, confirming he was only exhausted and in need of a fair amount of sleep, but Severus didn't wake.

Ron shifted in his seat, though he still didn't speak, but Severus didn't wake.

A normal rosy hue returned to his skin and his breathing relaxed into a more regular rhythm, but Severus didn't wake.

Hermione whispered her love in Severus's ear and begged him to snap at her as he used to or tell her the same, but Severus didn't wake.

The golden glow of morning light sent beams piercing through the open window, but Severus didn't wake.

Exhaustion tugged at Hermione, beckoning to her until she finally surrendered and laid her head on the bed beside Severus's arm. A light tugging on one of her curls alerted her when Severus finally woke. She'd been nearly asleep, but the feel of his fingers threading in her hair had her abruptly sitting up.

Glassy ebony eyes met hers, and she found herself blurting, "When he ordered Nagini to attack you –," abruptly, Hermione broke off, shaking her head and covering her mouth, unable to form any more words.

Severus reached for her, catching one of her hands and urging her onto the bed though his grip was as weak as a newborn babe. Hermione went gladly, letting him guide her to lay against his side, her head resting on his shoulder and the scent of medicinal potions sharp and cloying in her nose.

Raggedly, voice strained after the injury to his throat, he said, "I'm here. I'm alive. I've got you."

And he did. He was solid, and Hermione burrowed closer, pressing her ear against his chest to hear his pounding heart for herself.

"I'm here with you," he repeated, and sobs burst loose from her with the force of a breached dam.

"I'm here too. We both survived. We're together," she said brokenly, hiccuping between gasping tears.

Severus held her as she cried, a gentle hand rubbing her back in light, soothing strokes. It was a long while before she'd finished crying long enough to speak.

"I saw your memories. Harry insisted I watch them," Hermione admitted, knowing he'd appreciate her frank candor.

"Of course you did. One day your insatiable curiosity is going to get you into serious trouble," he said hoarsely.

"I'm pretty sure it already has – numerous times," she replied smartly, reveling in the opportunity to joke and banter with him once again. It had been entirely too long, and she'd missed it dreadfully.

A weak chuckle escaped Severus, but it quickly turned into a raspy cough. He refused to release his grip on her, despite it, when she made to pour him a cup of water, holding her tighter to him instead.

"I should have told you about Lily," he said without preamble once the coughing fit had passed.

"Yes, but I understand why you didn't," she allowed, finding it easy to be gracious now that much of the uncertainty and ambiguity surrounding their relationship had been resolved. Her relief at his miraculous survival might have been a bit of a contributing factor as well.

"You saw my first love, and how it shaped my life," Severus said softly, burying his face in her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"It set you on a path that led you to helping us defeat Voldemort," Hermione summarized.

"It led me to you, Hermione. It led me to you," he stated simply.

"What now?" she asked tentatively.

"Tell me what you want. If it is within my power to give it to you, I will," he promised, bringing a hand up to cradle her cheek. Hermione relished the caress, leaning into something she'd so recently feared never getting to experience again.

"You. You're all I want," she answered honestly, meaning the words with every fiber of her being. "You're my first love, Severus. Be my last as well."

It was amazing…after months and months of agonizing over how he felt, now she finally knew, and everything was falling into place. It was that easy. As though arriving at this point had always been inevitable for them.

Of course, they'd have to sort out where they were living. Then there was how they'd manage to blend their lives together. And there were Severus's worries and unavoidable fights as their personalities clashed that would put kinks into things. Oh, and how he'd feel about decision to pursue a career in –

"Stop worrying, Hermione. I know you find it difficult to shut that mind of yours off, but please, for my sake, don't overthink right now. We'll figure it all out, I promise, but I need a bit of a rest first," he grumbled, somehow knowing precisely what she was doing.

"Yes, all right," she agreed, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"I've loved two women in my life, Hermione," he added, "but it's only by loving you that I've known any measure of happiness."

The words meant everything. They were a declaration she'd never dared believe she'd hear from him, even after she'd watched his memories. Not after learning how things had gone with Lily, but he was here, saying them to her now.

"You said you could never love me," she reminded him, half joking.

"You taught me how," he replied earnestly, "and now I find it impossible not to."

Hermione's breath caught and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the renewed sobs spilling forth, though these were of a much different tenor than her earlier ones. As she shifted, she caught sight of Harry, looking much more alert and healthy, watching them. He looked ready to speak up and say something, but before he could, the door swung open.

"Where's Remus? I heard it's over, but I haven't seen him," Tonks demanded loudly. Hermione sat up in time to see Professor Sprout leading a distraught Tonks into the Hospital wing. "He hasn't come home yet. Was he hurt?"

"Nymphadora, you have to stop this. It isn't good for you in your condition," Professor Sprout warned, glossing over the pregnant woman's concerns and pleas.

"I'm fine, or I would be if I could just find Remus!" Tonks snapped, batting her former head of house's hands away from her vastly protruding middle. Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen someone as obviously ready to pop as Tonks currently was. "Is he in here? He must be. It's the only explanation. Was he hurt?"

"Tonks," Harry said flatly, speaking up when no one else seemed brave enough to do so.

Severus's arms tightened around Hermione, but he didn't utter a word, which given the animosity that had always existed between himself and Remus, was probably for the best.

"Wotcher, Harry! You've done it – good on you, then," she congratulated, though she was actively scanning the room rather than the bedridden hero of the hour.

"Tonks," Harry started again, but Professor Sprout interrupted.

"Not now, dear. Let's get Nymphadora settled in a seat, and –"

"No," Tonks snapped, grunting as her hand suddenly flew to her middle. Ron was up and out the door before the witch straightened, coming to life with a vengeance – as though her action had been the signal he'd been waiting for all night.

"I don't want to sit – I want to see my husband!" she grunted, rubbing a spot on her side. Almost piteously, she whined, "He should have checked in by now."

"Tonks, I'm so sorry," Harry said, covering his face with his hands.

Immediately, Tonks stilled, comprehension contorting her features as the truth sank in. The only sound was her irregular, labored breathing.

Finally, after an indeterminate time, she denied, "No."

"I wish…," Harry muttered, the words muffled as his palms trapped the sentiment.

"Can I see him?" Tonks sounded so young, so innocent, in that moment. "I need him."

"What's going on in here?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she emerged from her office looked haggard and worn as she blinked rapidly. Probably, she'd been taking a nap after working for hours on end to meand the injured.

"I just want to see my – ahhh!" Tonks cried, tottering a few steps until her hip slammed into the corner of an empty bed and she nearly fell over.

"Get her in a bed, quickly!" Madam Pomfrey ordered, becoming more alert in an instant.

"No, I can't do this without him. It wasn't supposed to be this way," Tonks whimpered, resisting the hands trying to help her.

"Just breathe, dear," Professor Sprout urged. "Witches have been doing this for millenia."

"I can't," Tonks refuted. "Not like this. Not without Remus."

"You must. The baby won't make it if you don't," Madam Pomfrey snapped sharply, apparently deciding the kid glove approach wasn't working.

The two older women were carefully trying to wrestle Tonks onto a cot when Mrs. Weasley burst in, Ron just behind her. Smart. Mrs. Weasley had been through this enough times to offer words of wisdom to the distressed mum-to-be.

"No, no, no. I can't," Tonks chanted, repeating it again and again as she began to cry in earnest, the occasional gasp punctuating her statements as her contractions came upon her.

"Let me talk to her," Mrs. Weasley insisted, squeezing in beside the bed. "Tonks, you're in labor. I need you to stay calm and focus."

The rest of the room was silent as Mrs. Weasley coaxed and cajoled the young witch. Periodically, Severus's fingers would squeeze Hermione's, as though reassuring himself that she was truly there, and all the while Tonks resisted and denied the platitudes the others tried to quell her with.

"No, no, I can't," Tonks cried, thrashing about and groaning more and more frequently, the time inbetween less and less. "Not without Remus. He promised not to leave me again. He promised! He was supposed to be here."

"Think of your baby," Mrs. Weasley urged, bending close to whisper another stream of encouragement.

"Remus is d-d-dead. What's the point? He'll never get to meet our baby," Tonks said brokenly, rolling away from Mrs. Weasley and curling into as much of a ball as her vast stomach would allow her to. "He left me again."

Ron, who'd been stationary since bringing his mum in, moved then, practically elbowing Professor Sprout aside as he knelt beside Tonks's head. Grabbing one of her hands, he declared, "He is, but we'll make Greyback pay. The others too. You're an Auror. You're going to get through this, then you're going to train me up and we're going to track down each and every one of them that had a part in this."

Tonks sniffed loudly, having smothered her broken crying at some point during Ron's speech. "Yes," she said, nodding determinedly.

Mrs. Weasley was beaming at Ron when Tonks rolled onto her back again, and she said, "But now a bit of privacy, perhaps? It's nearly time."

"Squeeze my hand. I can take it," Ron suggested to Tonks, ignored his mum's pointed suggestion for him to vacate the area.

"You say that now," Tonks huffed weakly, but didn't release her death grip.

A second later Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains around the bed and a silencing charm was cast.

"I don't know why I was spared when others weren't, but I intend to make the most of this opportunity," Severus murmered.

"I'll remind you of that next time you get all surly," Hermione quipped, grateful beyond imagining that they'd have the opportunity to do so. One they'd been so very close to missing out on.

Sleep was persistently lapping at Hermione's heels with Severus's light snores sounding a soothing lullaby when Ron appeared again sometime later, heading towards Harry's bed.

Hermione blinked drowsily at him when he muttered, "He's…," apparently at a loss for words on what else to say.

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect," Mrs. Weasley supplied, coming forward to show off a cooing bundle of blankets. "What will you name him?"

"Remus wanted to name him after my father. Theodore. Teddy. Teddy Remus Lupin," Tonks answered, but Hermione was too exhausted to move and see the newborn for herself or see if others had joined them in the room.

Her eyes had just closed again when Ron fiercely vowed, "They won't get away with it."

"Promise you'll help me?" Tonks asked, a core of titanium lending strength and resolve to her words.

"I'll be there every step of the way," Ron replied as sleep finally claimed Hermione, the promise of a fresh start when she woke next hovering on the horizon.