AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!

Two weeks after his first kiss with Hermione, Severus finally had the courage to take off his robe.

The timing was perfect. Black had just left to perform his spying duties. There was plenty of time for Severus to inspect his body without prying eyes. All he'd need to do was keep track of time as best he could, lest Black seize the opportunity to mock his figure once more.

His glow pulsated as he took off his black robe. After a few tense moments he folded it and put it onto the couch, somewhat surprised it did not glow. Then again, it was black.

A few moments later he realized that staring at the robe was not allowing him to ascertain how he appeared. Slowly, he bowed his head until he was looking at his torso.

Every zig zagged scar was present. As in life, some were duller than others, and some overlapped. Still, the deep gash on his chest remained, as if taunting him with the memories of the meeting when he'd received it.

He trembled as he remembered the sound of Voldemort cackling, the echoes from the others Death Eaters' jeers, the smell of scorched flesh, and the darkness which met him once Bellatrix had grown bored and ceased her assault upon him. Voldemort asked him if he'd learned his lesson. Severus imagined he'd squeaked out a yes.

Next time, he would provide better intel. He would schedule more meetings with Albus, harass more muggleborn students, do whatever it took never to feel the pain of those hexes or experience his own Sectumsempra used against him.

Dear Merlin, at the time of his death, was that cruse his greatest contribution to the academic world? Sure the researchers had mentioned other potions he had created, but some of them may have known someone affected by the curse. It was inevitable during the war.

His glow dulled. No matter what he did, he was still a murderer. Nothing could ever change the fact that he created a spell which would slice one's skin, and had the potential to be fatal. Even if it wasn't fatal, it was intended to maim and scar for life. It was a wonder the demons hadn't come up asking him for advice on how to improve their techniques.

Despite all of that, Hermione loved him.

He turned pink. Hermione loved him in spite of his sordid history. She was crazy for doing so, but she loved him for who he was. How could he ever repay her for that?

Severus couldn't give her anything but his love. She was more than eager to take it.

He would call her a silly Gryffindor for desiring so little, but he had too much respect for her to do so. She was someone who knew what she wanted, and had terrible enough taste to want him. He was a lucky spirit indeed.

He turned his attention to where his genitalia had once been. As expected, there was no sign he'd ever been a man.

After staring at himself for what felt like hours he picked up his robe. At least now he knew more fully how his new form appeared.

He couldn't help but wonder what Hermione would think of it. Would she regret falling in love with him upon seeing it, or would she overlook the scars and see the man she loved?

He feared her answer.

Hermione sat at her desk, a shipment order before her. After reading the words, she took a black quill from an ink pot and picked it up, exposing her arm.

Her stomach sank as the word "mudblood" was made visible.

She rolled up her sleeve and glanced around the room. In silence, she cast the glamour over her arm and resumed working.

After signing the forms she leaned back in her chair and sighed. As she stared at the ceiling, her mind wandered to a certain spiritual potions master who she planned on seeing that evening…

Her lips curled up as she imagined him standing over her as she tasted her latest creation, chicken noodle soup. He would give her a quick touch of the shoulder, just enough for her to feel his love. She would giggle and reach up to grab a bowl.

Only to realize she had forgotten to cast the glamour.

Severus' glow turned forest green as his eyes fell upon it. "How long have you had that?"

"Since the end of the war." Her stomach would be in knots.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Bellatrix."

"How did she give it to you?"

"The Snatchers captured me a couple of months before you died. Bellatrix tortured me for hours. Once she was done casting Crucitas curses she pulled out a cursed knife and carved that word into me."

"It's hideous," he hissed.

She bowed her head.

"I cannot believe how foolish I am being."

She looked up.

He pointed to her arm. "I have a chance to dwell amongst the angels, yet I am foregoing it for this."

Her eyes welled with tears.

"I cannot believe what a dunderhead I am." He scowled. "To think I am giving up heaven for someone so revolting."

"Revolting?" Hermione cried.

"There is no need for an echo."

"Well, excuse me for not being as perfect as an angel!"

"Oh you're excused."

"What right do you have to judge me?" She pointed to his neck wound. "You are scarred too."

"True, but there are angels willing to look past that for me." He sneered. "I could have any one of them I wanted. In fact, a few have even visited me."

She felt the color drain from her face.

"Why would want I want someone scarred when I can have someone perfect?" His hair shortened and grew more red. Freckles appeared on his face as his glow diminished. "What man could ever want you, 'Mione?"

A tear fell from her eye.

"You were never good enough for me. I was so bored with you. What makes you think any man could truly want you?"

"I thought Severus loved me."

"If I, your oldest and dearest friend, couldn't love you, how could he?"

"Hermione?"

Her throat constricted.

"Hermione! Are you there?"

She jolted from her reverie.

"Hermione?"

"Coming!" She darted from her chair and peeked into the fireplace. "Sorry about that. What do you need, Harry?"

"Luna's in labor!"

"She is!" Her face lit up as she folded her hands.

"Yes, she is and," Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to be a father."

"You are!"

"Oh Merlin," he whispered. "I'm going to be a father."

"Yes, you are!"

"I can't." He shook his head. "I can't believe this."

"Why not? You've been preparing nine months for this."

"I know, but a dad? Me, a dad?" he gulped.

"Aren't you excited about this?"

"Of course I am, but it's all happening so quickly. I…I don't know if I'm ready for any of this."

"Of course you're ready. You have the crib, the bottles, the nappies, the stroller…"

"No, I mean." Harry gulped. "I think I'm going to be a horrible father."

"Why?"

"There is no one to turn to for advice. I don't remember my parents, and the Dursleys were less than loving. What if I have no idea what I'm doing and I harm the baby?"

"Do you love your baby?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you trust Luna to help you raise the child?"

"I trust her with my life."

"Then you're going to be fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." She smiled.

"Thanks." His face glowed. "I just can't believe it. I'm finally going to have my son. I'm going to be a dad!"

"Yes, but if you want to see him you'd better get off the floo with me and get in the room with Luna."

"Yes of course I should." He exhaled. "I'll let you know when he's born."

"I can't wait to meet him."

"Yes and," his voice was softer. "And thanks."

"Anytime."

With that the fire died. Hermione's eyes were glistening.

She couldn't wait to be a godmother again!

In the corner, a spirit glowed as bright as the Northern star.

He couldn't wait to meet his godson's baby!