Author's Note: Thank you everyone for the expressions of sympathy, and the general notes on the last chapter. So glad you're all enjoying things so far :) More cuddly bits ahead, and actual plot developments. Finally!

A Trip To The Cottage & A Dose Of Dittany

Snape paused in the doorway of Miss Granger's bedroom, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at what he saw before him. Though the woman's love of books was legendary, and it certainly rivaled his own, even he was somewhat shocked to see the stacks piled around on the hardwood floor.

They literally filled the room.

Even the furniture was stacked four to six high with volumes of what appeared to be both magical and muggle books, which would indicate her collection predated her research of the last year. The only relatively open space was the bed placed against the far wall. It had just three open books laid out on top of the blue flowered quilt.

Most likely her active reading pile.

And after he had stepped over the threshold, Snape began carefully making his way through the small, winding, path that Miss Granger had left to move about the room. Occasionally he paused to run his finger over a spine here or there. Feeling the dark energy that was pulsing through so many of the books, he was absolutely horrified. This was Miss Granger's bedroom.

And every night, she had literally been DROWNING in dark magic.

Her sleeplessness and extreme weight loss made even more sense to him now. Because this hellish environment working in conjunction with the overwhelming guilt that had been gnawing at her since casting the curse on her parents, it was a wonder that she had not been driven mad. And it was going to take him potentially WEEKS to wade through these volumes to see if she may have missed something important. Of course under most other circumstances, Snape would have trusted her judgment without question on matters related to any type of research, but she had clearly not been at her best as of late. But Merlin, his head was beginning to ache just thinking about having to read some of these books. From his own early (foolish) interests, and then the subsequent years with the Death Eaters, he clearly had spent much time studying the darkest of dark magic, more than just what was needed in the defense against the dark arts, so he was intimately familiar with too many of these titles. If given a choice, he would not choose to read them again now. There was evil here.

And it was a world he had hoped to leave behind.

But alas . . . his lips pursed . . . this was the burden he would bear for this witch who had become so important to him. And in an effort to get back to her as quickly as possible, because truly, all he wanted was to be near her, he set a spell on the books filling the room, to help him sort through them a little faster. The intent of the spell was to have every volume which mentioned the phrase, "memory charm" (in any language), put out a red glow. Unfortunately though, after he had finished the incantation, the entire room was suddenly lit up like one of those tacky Christmas displays the muggles so loved. He rolled his eyes.

Clearly he was going to have to do this the hard way.

So with a heavy sigh, he waved his wand over the stack of glowing books closest to him, there were six in total, shrunk it down, and tucked the lot of them into a large satchel he accio'd from a hook on the back of Miss Granger's closet door. Once that was done, he repeated the same basic steps to gather up the three open books on the bed, though he tagged them to glow in green to differentiate Miss Granger's active reading from the general stacks of books she had collected in her travels.

His plan for the day was to begin collecting this research of hers to bring it home with him for further review there. Once Miss Granger was fully healed, it was likely that they would need to move into the cottage simply to look after her parents, but for now he was going to be using his own lab as a base because, well, he preferred using his own lab. Period.

So with the first stacks of books collected . . . enough reading to last at least the next the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, depending on how much translation would be required . . . and the satchel under his arm, he retreated from that room, and headed back along the uncarpeted upstairs hallway, to the bedroom of the elder Grangers.

It was a most depressing room.

Not due to the décor, which could probably, objectively, be described as "cheerful" with its sunny yellow walls and seascape family photos, but the aura in there it was . . . he bit his lip . . . black. So black, it gave him a slight headache just walking into the room. Whether it was from the Imperio itself (such a horrifically dark curse would leave a correspondingly dark aura anywhere) or simply the situation, he had not yet decided. Either way, it was not a place he wished to linger. Unfortunately though, linger he must.

Because there were still things to be done for, and to, Miss Granger's parents.

After the Patronus had been sent verifying they were still in their original stasis, he had performed a few diagnostics on the older couple, and as Miss Granger had indicated earlier, outside of their neurological functions, they were both in near perfect health. The key problem seemed to be their brain wave activity.

It was almost non-existent.

But given his plans to be in the house for a few hours anyway, he had decided to remove them from their stasis so they could eat and exercise before he had to put them back to sleep again. Fortunately Miss Granger had posted her 'modified infant care charm' quite prominently on the refrigerator door in the kitchen, so once he had made a copy, all he had needed to do, was to follow her very precise instructions. So after he had awoken her parents, a few quick incantations later, he had them on their feet, and marching in place by the bed. He stayed there watching the two of them as they moved on to a series of jumping jacks, and then push-ups. It was fascinating, though also extremely unsettling, to see how they moved in complete synchronicity, from one activity to another. Damage from the Imperio, was his theory for their behavior. And having read on the infant charm notations that the exercise routine lasted for exactly forty-five minutes, that was when he had decided to start going through Miss Granger's books. Now though, with it coming up on forty-one minutes since he had set the charm, he was watching as the Grangers cycled down through a final series of stretches. When those were finished they literally froze in place, right there in the middle of the room.

With their vacant, slightly slack jawed expressions, it was quite an alarming image.

And again, the fact that for months now, with no support from anyone, his poor Miss Granger had been LIVING in this hell with these empty shells that had once been her parents, made him feel slightly ill. No matter if they had discovered this bond between them or not, knowing what he knew now about the state her family was in, he could never have left her to deal with this alone.

It would have been unforgivable in the purest sense.

But also knowing that he needed to learn the steps of the care charm as well as Miss Granger knew them . . . again, he did expect they would be moving into this house . . . with the exercise routine now complete, he pulled his copy of the charm from his robe and read over the lavatory section. Then he spoke the next spell. This one was focused solely on Mrs. Granger alone. And once he was done speaking and had waved his wand, he saw her blink those vacant eyes just once, right before she turned and walked slowly over to the bathroom on the other side of the master bedroom.

She stepped inside and closed the door.

When she returned a minute later . . . he had even heard the toilet flush and the sound of water running, the charm was clearly quite detailed . . . he set the same incantation on her husband. After he had completed his trip to the lavatory, Snape sent the two of them back to sit on the bed again. For a moment then, he just stood there looking at them with their mouths half open, staring blankly at the wall.

It was horrifying.

So though it made no sense, he walked over and turned on the small black and white television sitting on top of the bookcase across the room. Then he spun back around, and with a muttered spell and some movements of both his wand and his wrists, he adjusted the positions of the couple sitting on the bed. Once he was done, they were lying back, leaning up against the headboard and staring over at the moving pictures. To say that they were 'watching' the images on the screen would be a MARKED overstatement, but he at least felt a little better about leaving them alone in this position, than the other. Because as Miss Granger had said, it was clear that there was no higher brain function currently being demonstrated, but least now he could see some ocular engagement as their pupils tracked the images on the screen.

Good enough.

So with that, he headed downstairs, and after he had dug through the kitchen to find that the Grangers' cupboards were almost as bare as his own . . . he was now definitely stopping at the shops for both houses before he went home . . . he did a magical prep of two bowls of oatmeal with a spoonful of honey in each, thrown in solely for flavor. Though again, these people clearly did not know what was going on in their world, it still seemed wrong to not treat them with the respect he would if they were as they used to be. And he had met the elder Grangers a few times over the years. Always in Diagon Alley, always looking so simultaneously proud of their grinning daughter in front of them, and terrified of the world she had pulled them into. They had consistently managed a few minutes of intelligent conversation though. Every time. And they had also created the unique brilliance that was his Miss Granger, so clearly there had been some true intelligence there. It would be a tragedy to leave such minds so vacant.

If it was him in such a state, he would welcome the Avada as an old friend.

But it served no point to dwell on such things, not when there was so much to be done. So after he had waved his hand to send the bowls of oatmeal, accompanied with silver spoons and glasses of juice, levitating up the stairs, he again pulled out his wand, this time to recite the last section of the modified care charm.

This would ensure that the Grangers ate their meal without the need for his supervision.

And with that, he moved on to the rest of his planned activities for this trip. They were, in no precise order, to clean Miss Granger's lab, repair any structural damage caused by the explosion, collect whatever research notes or books which had been blown about the lab, and hopefully salvage any of the more exotic potion ingredients that she had picked up in her global travels so he would not have to go to the ends of the earth to collect them again. It took him almost two hours to get all of that done, which put him at a little over three hours since he had left Miss Granger alone. And not really wishing to leave her that much longer . . . it had already been too far by half . . . he figured it was time to get her parents back to stasis so he could do his run to the shops, and finally head home to Spinner's End.

It was as he was walking towards the stairs that he suddenly took note of the small basket sitting just inside the door of the sitting room. He stopped short, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

The basket contained a cat.

For some reason he had completely forgotten about Miss Granger's familiar. And to that end, he was surprised that Miss Granger herself had not mentioned it in their earlier discussions. But as he was staring at the animal, that was when he realized that she had also put the cat under stasis, so she had likely figured that he would be fine until she could get back to the cottage herself in a few days. And likely he would be, but as Snape stared down at the sleeping ball of fur, he unexpectedly flashed on an afternoon of a few years earlier in Grimmauld Place. It was an image of a bushy haired Miss Granger sitting in the library dancing a piece of twine for her beloved, "Crooks."

The delighted peals of laughter as the cat chased the enchanted string around the room.

His expression softened as he stooped down . . . the cat was coming with him. But he didn't actually wish to deal with a live, wriggling, animal for the remainder of his excursion . . . he still needed to do the shopping . . . so he simply tucked the cat into the satchel where he had put everything else. Fortunately with 'everything else,' having been shrunken down individually to fit within his palm, there was plenty of room for the sleeping feline.

And now . . . he took a weary breath and reluctantly looked to the stairs . . . time to send the Grangers back to stasis.

/*/*/*/

Almost fifty minutes later, when Snape stepped through his floo, he had the over filled satchel, (complete with Still Under Stasis cat), hanging over his left arm, and two small paper sacks of shrunken down groceries tucked under the right. As he walked across the room, he was relieved to see that Miss Granger was still sleeping.

While standing in line at the market with a nearly full trolley full of items, he had felt some concern that his trip had taken too long and she had already awoken and, possibly in pain, had been waiting on him. Fortunately that had not been the case. So after he had sent the groceries off to the kitchen still in their miniaturized state . . . he needed to sort out what was staying at his house and what was going to the cottage . . . he put the satchel down on the carpet.

He pulled out the cat.

Then he took out his wand, stepped back to a safe distance just in case, and released the feline from Miss Granger's spell. It took only a moment for her animal to shake off its lethargy. And then he watched as it walked around the room, sniffing various items with varying degrees of interest, before it finally got to the bed. The moment it caught the scent of his mistress, he began to purr. Then he jumped up on the covers and started to circle the sleeping body. The purring increased in volume.

It was clear that he had missed her.

Still, Snape was about to shoo the cat down . . . he was concerned about Miss Granger's injuries and the cat's potential to exacerbate them . . . when suddenly the witch in question, woke up. And seeing how her face lit up when she spotted her pet while she simultaneously cried out a sleepy, though excited, "oh my Crooks!" he clearly did not have it in him to separate the two.

Not without very good cause anyway.

"He is not likely to scratch you, correct?"

His question was asked hesitantly, and Miss Granger, with that huge ball of fluff now sitting in her lap, looked over at him with a confused smile.

"Of course not," she answered with a gentle pat of the cat's fur . . . still with the gloves of course, "this is my boy. The only time he's ever scratched me was when we had to do an emergency apparation home from Turkey, but we had a rough landing, so his agitation was entirely my fault."

Then her smile softened.

"Thank you so much for bringing him back with you. I had wanted to ask for him, but I was afraid it would be too much of an imposition to have him here in the house."

Feeling his brow furrow slightly, Snape walked up to the bed.

"Miss Granger," he responded quietly, "your Crooks is welcome here, because he is yours. But believe it or not, I am actually fond of cats. As a species, they are clean, intelligent animals who require little oversight. Certainly they are on the whole, more appealing housemates than most of the children I have taught. In truth," he added with a bite of his lip, "I had considered acquiring one of their breed when I first began teaching. It was a very lonely time, but it had seemed selfish to take in a creature with a two decade lifespan, when I fully expected to be dead by thirty."

Seeing how Miss Granger winced at this statement, Snape realized that referencing his death so casually might be somewhat upsetting for her. Especially given how he did in fact, die, however briefly, a little over a year ago. So his concerns on that point had in fact been very well founded. But now that he was alive again, he did not wish for her worry about things that he no longer worried about himself. So with a faint quirk of his lip, he reached out to brush his fingers through her hair.

"Bur with the Dark Lord finally dead," he continued speaking, now while stroking her earlobe with his thumb, "and the average natural lifespan for wizards in my family being one hundred and forty-two, I feel it is probably safe now for me to get a pet."

Hermione let out a soft giggle at Snape's words, before she looked between him and Crookshanks.

"Crooks might allow me to share him with you."

Feeling his chest warming, Snape gave Miss Granger a slow nod.

"If the feline is amendable, I would be as well."

Another benefit of the bond . . . a pet. It was not something he had considered for quite some time, but as he had just told her, he was fond of cats, and he was very fond of Miss Granger, so taking them both together as a 'packaged deal' . . . which he believed was the muggle term . . . he would be quite satisfied. And seeing Miss Granger now whispering in the cat's ear, right before the feline let out a muffled meow, followed immediately by another giggle from the woman on the bed, he could not help the twitching of his lips. Apparently he was going to be allowed co-ownership.

A very satisfactory outcome.

And with that point now settled, he had acquired a cat . . . he made a mental note to research charms for removing cat hair from his garments . . . Snape moved on to updating Miss Granger on the events of the morning. As expected, she was relieved to hear that he had briefly removed her parents from stasis to allow them a day of food and exercise, and with her saying she generally felt much better physically than she had upon awaking that morning, (he was sure that was a result of their second magic sharing session) he agreed that she could skip the planned afternoon dose of sleeping potion.

That way she could help him to begin going through her research.

So once he had gotten her hair re-growth potion brewing, a task which he had forgotten to do that morning, but had been reminded of upon seeing that lovely face still missing half an eyebrow, he enlarged and unpacked their groceries so they could have lunch. With the cupboards once more full, and Snape having picked up quite a few traditional muggle items to help Miss Granger feel more at home (and to just generally encourage her to eat) their meal options had greatly expanded. Lunch was prawn crisps and cheese and pickle sandwiches, followed by her basic potions, and then five hours of research. Though together they found a few areas of interest in the first batch of 'gold' books that Miss Granger had not yet had time to fully explore, they most definitely did not find any 'magical' key to unlock her parents' brains.

That was unfortunate of course, but certainly no surprise at all.

And with both of them mentally exhausted from delving into such unseemly matters for so many hours, at seven pm Snape declared their 'work day' to be over. Obviously he wanted the books on dark magic to be kept nowhere near Miss Granger or her sleeping area.

With a wave of his hand, they were banished to his lab in the cellar.

So then for their supper they had potato and cheese pasties with tea, while Crookshanks happily settled himself in the kitchen with a plate of canned tuna. After everything had been cleaned up, and Snape had checked on the status of the hair re-growth potion . . . coming along nicely . . . he then transfigured an old pillow into an oversized cat bed and set it on the hearth. Fortunately there was already a magical barrier set up to prevent sparks from escaping from the fire itself, so he had no fear of the cat accidentally being, 'set ablaze,' or something else equally traumatizing for Miss Granger.

That would be a very unfortunate end to the day.

So once the cat was done eating and settled in on his new pillow, languidly grooming himself from top to tail, Snape moved on to levitate the reading chair from his upstairs bedroom down to place next to the cat bed.

His feeling was that there no longer had to be any pretext for how he and Miss Granger physically interacted. If he was going to have her sitting in his lap for extended periods of time, which he most certainly was, they were bloody well going to be in the most comfortable seat in the house while doing so. And once he had the wireless playing Moonlight Sonata softly in the background, and his witch was settled into his lap . . . though this time with her wrapped up in the silk/flannel blanket to make sure her limbs did not catch a chill . . . Snape repeated the steps which were now becoming second nature to him. First the neck massage, necessary to make sure Miss Granger was fully relaxed before they began the exchange, and then shifting his focus completely to the pressure points on her shoulders.

It only took a moment for the spark to ignite.

And that time he was prepared for the intensity of it when their magics swirled together, he actually welcomed how strong it was, because it was in that moment when his lifetime of loneliness was suddenly abated.

Miss Granger's magic literally tethered him to her.

It was something he had never had before, this sense of truly belonging to someone else. It was the one thing that he had always so desperately wanted, and to have it now after all he had lost, it was . . . his lips pursed as he nuzzled her ear . . . divine. And for the first few minutes after the spark, they did not even speak, she just snuggled in his lap as he gently rubbed her stomach under the blanket. If asked, he would have admitted, quite freely, that to spend hours on end with this witch, exactly like this, would have been an entirely satisfactory use of his limited time here on earth. Eventually though, he felt the body in his arms begin to shift slightly, and then she took a breath.

Apparently it was time to talk.

"I've been curious about a few things in your past," Miss Granger started speaking softly, with a brush of her fingers over his chest, "but if they aren't topics you wish to discuss, just say so and I promise not to ask about them again."

"What are these topics of curiosity?" he responded with a slight tightening in his voice, because truly, most of the prominent memories of his life to date were painful to look back upon.

There was little in his past that he wished to revisit.

But he also knew, and accepted, that if he hoped to maintain this bond in a healthy manner, one which would ensure the indefinite survival of their romantic relationship, he was going to have to discuss his life with this woman. Not all of it, at least certainly not all of it right away, but to answer a few of her questions today, well . . . he took a breath . . . he could manage that much for her sake.

Their sake.

So he waited, fully expecting (and dreading) that Miss Granger's curiosities would revolve around his time with the Dark Lord because they had spent so much time that day discussing dark magic. Instead though, she came out with a question from nowhere.

"Those photos out in the front hallway, who are those people in them?"

The question was so benign, he blinked in surprise.

"They are . . . muggles," he answered slowly, "my father's family. Myfamily. I am sure you must be aware by now that I am a half blood. This house belonged to the Snapes. My mother's family, the Princes, that is my magical line. For the last five hundred or so years, they were based around Canterbury."

There, the question was fully answered, and additional information was then voluntarily shared. That was quite progressive of him. But then he felt Miss Granger take a breath just as her hand came down to cover his.

Apparently this topic was not yet closed.

"Were based," she repeated his phrasing with what was some obvious reluctance, "so are you the last of the line?"

"Yes," he bit his lip, "my mother was disinherited for marrying my father. She was an only child, and her parents were killed during the First Wizarding War."

"Oh . . ." Hermione started to cut in with an expression of sympathy, but Snape cut it off with a gentle pat of her stomach.

"It was no loss. They were monsters who would have had you gutted simply for existing, and that," he cleared his throat, "is all I wish to say about my grandparents."

Ordinarily, that question would have caused him pain knowing the atrocities those two had committed against the muggle born and knowing too that he carried their cursed blood in his veins. But now, today, he was simply sharing information. Still, there was silence for a moment, and then Miss Granger curled slightly in his lap so she could tuck her head down under his chin.

The action pleased him.

Then she whispered against his throat.

"Did you ever have any siblings?"

Another question which would have, under other circumstances, caused a degree of emotional discomfort, but coming from her, oddly, it was not as upsetting. Perhaps because if she was now to be his mate, then she would be his true family.

This thought made the facts of his biological history, sting a little less.

"No," he answered with a soft sigh, "no siblings. When I was very young, three or four perhaps, I recall seeing my mother's belly swollen with another child. I do not know how long she carried it, but at some point there was a fight. Father did not want another 'freak' in his house, his words, and he shoved her down the stairs. I was too small to do anything but watch her fall. And he would not allow her to go St. Mungo's for proper treatment, so she was stuck with muggle doctors practicing old muggle medicine. The baby was lost, and there was damage," his voice faded, "she never got pregnant again."

Feeling Miss Granger's body stiffen up, he knew that his words had struck some nerve with her.

"Bu, but that's the same thing that happened with my mother," she stammered back in surprise, "I mean not the horrible abuse, I'm so sorry about that, but complications from a miscarriage resulted in permanent damage to her reproductive organs. I was seven. Strange we would have such a randomly specific thing in common."

Snape's brow wrinkled.

"It is a rather odd, but I do not think it means anything given the generally deplorable state of muggle medicine. Though if we were to procreate, I imagine it would be prudent for you to undergo special monitoring to ensure that history does not tragically repeat with our line."

Then, realizing what he had said . . . something which it was ENTIRELY too soon to be discussing . . . Snape winced and closed his eyes. But before he could speak again, perhaps to make things potentially even more awkward than he just had . . . Merlin help him and his lack of experience in such matters . . . he heard Miss Granger clear her throat.

"I haven't actually decided yet about having children," she stated softly, "that was a major point of contention with Ron. Of course with his family," she huffed affectionately, "he wanted a full brood, five or six in Weasley terms, and I was hovering around maybe having one, maybe, at some point in the future."

"I too am uncertain about having children," Snape came back quickly, relieved that she was not unsettled by his comment about them reproducing together, "in truth, up until a moment ago, I had probably given the idea no consideration to date. But now, with you . . ."

And he trailed off, not wishing to put the rest of his thoughts into words. That he had never considered children because had assumed he would die young, and most definitely alone. But now there was a beautiful witch in his lap. And his death was no longer imminent. With her he could have a future.

His eyes began to burn.

He had never had one of those before.

And perhaps Miss Granger could sense his emotions through the bond, or perhaps she was a true empath, but either way, he suddenly felt her shift in his lap right before she pressed a kiss to his throat.

It was right over his scar.

"Do not be sad, muppet," she murmured with a gentle brush of her fingers along his cheek, "you have time now. Time enough for everything. And we shall discuss all of this again some other day, because we have already decided we wish to have many of those together, yes?"

"Yes," he choked back, "yes, I would like that." Then he took in a ragged breath, and aimed for a haughty tone . . . one which was belied by him nuzzling her ear.

He actually brushed the tip of his tongue along the shell.

"But you must stop calling me muppet."

And he felt her breath catch just before her words came back slightly strained with what he knew was arousal . . . he could feel it through the bond. "And you must stop calling me Miss Granger. You pick something else for me, and I might pick something else for you."

"Hmph," he grumbled, "impertinent witch."

She chuckled.

"Is that what you're going to call me?"

"Perhaps," he let out on a grunt as he rubbed her hip, "but only in mixed company."

Hearing her soft giggle against his shoulder brought him another ache, though this one was deep in his loins. And oh how he wished that she was well enough for an escalation in their physical affections, it would most definitely accelerate their bonding. But alas . . . he let out a heavy sigh . . . those actions would not be taken for some days yet.

Her wounds had not healed to that point.

So though he wished to let his fingers slide to other places, to give her pleasure and truly take away some of her worries for a little while, instead he just let his palm settle in the middle of her stomach as he whispered in her ear.

"Eventually I will settle on something to call you that does not involve the word, 'Miss.' In the meantime, do not think that term diminishes my growing affection for you, or my attachment to you. Miss Granger is simply the habit," he patted her flat belly, then suddenly, and unexpectedly, imagined his child being in there . . . his voice faded, "nothing more."

Feeling her heart swell at his words, Hermione had to blink back the tears that began to form.

Even though she knew this was not a man practiced in affairs of the heart, it was like he knew exactly what she needed to hear, and exactly when she needed to hear it. Oh . . . she suddenly realized . . . It must be the bond! Because she had just remembered that odd tickle she'd had in her brain right before she'd told him not to be sad, when up to that moment, he had neither said nor done anything to indicate that was his emotional state. But yet she'd suddenly known exactly what he was feeling and just how to comfort him. So apparently . . . she bit her lip . . . the stronger their connection became, the more they would be able to read one another on that level.

That was astounding.

And oh how she wished she could hold her wand, because she so desperately wanted to see her Patronus. Because if their bond had already progressed to this point, her Patronus must have already changed just as Snape's had. Could it really be a serpent now as he had jokingly requested?

And would her fellow Gryffindors ever forgive her if it really was?

Well bollocks to that, she immediately dismissed the thought with a faint furrow of her brow, this wasn't some ridiculous house spirit thing. This was her life. And if her bonded mate being a Slytherin, somehow resulted in her Patronus being serpentine too, well, that was that. On some level it would actually please her if that's what happened. Because it would mean that their bond truly was so strong, it could change things on that level too.

Something else so elemental to her being.

For now though, she just pressed another kiss to his scar . . . the reminder that he had lived to be with her on this day . . . and cuddled up in his lap again. She felt so safe and content wrapped up in his arms. Part of it she knew was the bond, but, more and more now, she was sure it was just being with him. Because though the bond may have helped to expedite their romantic attachment, it most assuredly could not have created it.

Thank Merlin for free will.

So they just sat there together as the fire crackled and Beethoven played softly on the wireless. If Snape had suggested they sleep there in the chair, she would have readily agreed, but she knew he wasn't inclined to have her sleep in his lap.

He'd say she couldn't get a proper rest.

So as expected, eventually she felt him rub her stomach again . . . she did love when he did that, it was so intimate . . . right before he whispered.

"I need to apply the Dittany tonight. Do you wish for me to wait until you are under the sleeping potion, or do you want to be awake?"

Hermione blinked as a slight tension filled her . . . the scars.

"Um," she swallowed and looked down at the silken fingers covering over Snape's wrist, "I think awake, but I don't want to look. I'm not ready to yet."

Then her voice brightened again as another thought came to her.

"Oh, but if we've reached the Dittany stage, do you think maybe I'll be able to hold my wand tomorrow?"

Snape tipped his head.

"Cautiously," he answered with a soft exhale, "I would say yes. With your aesthetic concerns, you may want to keep wearing the gloves for another few days, and I will keep the mirror covered, but if your hands are healing as well as your face, then their structural issues should be fully addressed within the next twenty-four hours. And provided that they are, after that, I see no reason that we could not attempt some simple dexterity exercises with your fingers. The wand would be a good tool. And now," he began to shift in the chair, "I believe we should move along with your regimen so we can go to bed. There is much to be done tomorrow, and it would best if we were both well rested."

And with that, Snape slowly came up to his feet with Miss Granger tucked protectively against his chest. As he broke the magical connection, he tipped his head down to whisper in her ear.

"I very much enjoy holding you even without the spark," he let out a soft sigh, "it makes me feel, well," he huffed slightly, "it makes me feel, and that is something I get uniquely from being with you."

Before she could respond beyond a nuzzling of his throat, he had carried her back across the room and over to the bed. Once she was settled on her back, he brushed his fingers through the short strands of her hair.

"To apply the Dittany, I will need to open the nightshirt," he reminded her gently, "and I will need to touch your breasts. There is no other way." She gave him a soft smile.

"I know, it's fine, and to be clear," her lip quirked up, "you now have my general permission to touch me anywhere you want. Emphasis on the anywhere."

His lips twitched.

"Thank you. I will keep that in mind. And I will offer reciprocal approval for when you are feeling well enough for such activities. Now then," he blinked to refocus, trying to push images of 'such activities' out of his head, "let us do the last of your potions first, then you will be ready to sleep once we are done with the Dittany massage."

Ordinarily Dittany would be applied with droplets, but given the nature of her injuries . . . all over . . . it was not practical to simply 'dump' the essence in one area and expect her to have full coverage everywhere she needed it.

He would need to apply it manually.

So once Miss Granger had taken her nightly pain and sleeping potions, he gave her a soft smile while brushing his fingers through her hair.

"You should close your eyes now. I will tell you when it is safe to look again."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded.

"Right, okay."

Still, she waited for just another moment until Snape had returned to his coffee table slash apothecary. But once he had the bottle of Dittany in hand, she let her half length lashes fall shut.

She waited.

When he returned to her side a moment later, the first thing he did was whisper that he was going to start with her face, if that was acceptable. All she could manage was a tight nod of approval, because now that it was time to apply this much needed herb, all she could think was, 'bloody hell, this was going to hurt.'

To her surprise though, rather than feeling the liquid splashing onto her skin directly, she felt Snape's warm fingertips gently stroking her jaw . . . it began to tingle. But not in an unpleasant way.

Oh . . . she realized . . . he was applying the Dittany manually!

"Do not be tense, Miss Granger," he murmured while slowly sliding his fingers along her throat, "I added a numbing agent to the essence so the discomfort should be minimal. A faint tingling perhaps, but it should not be much more."

"No," she sucked in a shallow breath as his palms moved up to lightly run along her forehead and nose, "no, it's okay actually. You're right, only a faint tingling. Thank you for making that adjustment."

Really, she had been somewhat dreading the Dittany application just for fear of the potential degree of pain resulting from a stinging liquid being applied to fairly raw flesh.

It could have been excruciating even under potion.

But of course, she had now been reminded of yet another benefit of having a potions master as a mate . . . her eyes crinkled faintly as he gently caressed her cheek . . . he could made everything better.

And it took him barely a minute to finish the application to her face and neck, he even did a swipe along both of her ears though she knew only one of them had actually been burnt. But once he was done with a murmur of, "and now we'll move to the chest," she felt her breath catch. Strangely, there was a degree of sexual anticipation. Or maybe it wasn't so strange.

After all, he was about to touch her breasts for the first time.

Either way, in the next moment, the buttons of her nightshirt began slowly popping open, one at a time. And then the fabric was being pulled apart, sliding from her shoulders, and down her arms. The cool air of the drafty house caused both a prickle of goose flesh to pop up everywhere, and a hardening of her nipples.

Her sense of anticipation for his touch was growing.

But then, hearing Snape's unexpectedly horrified hiss of, "what in the BLOODY HELL is this?!" she felt a stab of genuine terror instead!

"What?! What's wrong with me?!" She cried out in a panic as her palms pressed anxiously into her thighs.

"No, no it is all right Miss Granger," Snape was quick in hastening to reassure her with a squeeze of her shoulder, "I am sorry for frightening you, it is just this horrible word carved into your arm. You had not told me about it. Wait, is this . . ."

And his voice faded for a second before it came back almost shaking with rage.

"Bellatrix! This is her work, isn't it?! That demented, in-bred, MONSTER! I should have killed her a LIFETIME ago!"

The words had no sooner left Snape's mouth, when he apparently realized from the way that she had flinched at his howling while she was in such a vulnerable state . . . essentially blind and naked . . . that he might be causing her some discomfort. So he quickly let out a soft, "oh Miss Granger, I do apologize for my reaction." And then she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek, just before one palm settled on her bare stomach, and the other on her shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to her ear.

"I did not mean to frighten you," he continued on with a whisper, "but I am so saddened by what she did to you, my beautiful muggle witch. I had not even heard a rumor about this desecration of your flesh. Even not knowing yet of the bond, I truly would have killed her for it."

"It's all right," she whispered back with a crackle of emotion in her voice, "it's not your fault she was a genocidal psychopath."

"No," he let out a heavy sigh, "but it is my fault that she lived as long as she did. That she lived long enough to do this to you. There are lessons I learned too late, and one of them was recognizing true evil when it is walking amongst us, and when is the exact moment to strike it down. If I were to ever come across her kind again, I would not make the same mistakes. Now then," he straightened and cleared his throat, "as to the damage from the accident, I would say the healing of the burns on your breasts and surrounding tissue, is truly remarkable. Though given how you were wearing layered garments, the heavy robe especially, the damage here was admittedly not as initially severe as in other areas, so I imagine that is why it has come along so well. However, there is already some scattered puckering of the flesh on your breasts and shoulders, so I do recommend still using the Dittany if you would like to prevent that scarring from becoming permanent. It is your choice though," she felt his fingers gently press into her bare shoulder, "to me, with or without the scars, you are still lovely either way."

Even under the circumstances, she felt her eyes fill . . . her sweet wizard.

"Um," she swallowed, "thank you but I think I'd still like the Dittany applied. Not for vanity, really, I've come to live with my other scars I got in the war, I just don't think I have the self-esteem to see that part of my body disfigured, and not be affected."

For a moment all she could hear was the crackle of the fire, and the faint notes of classical music in the air, but then without a word, she felt Snape's warm hands cupping her breasts.

She actually let out a gasp at the touch.

"Your body is exquisite," he spoke in a whisper while lightly caressing her flesh, "the scarring here does not change that fact. However," he continued on while slowly letting his hands slide away, "I believe I understand why you feel the way you do. I have had some scarring in more sensitive areas as well, and it took me time to adjust to it. So we shall of course do what makes you feel the most comfortable. So to that end . . ."

And his hands pulled away completely for just a moment before they came back to cover over her breasts again. Though that time the pleasure of his touch was mixed with a twinge of the icy tingle.

A fresh dose of Dittany and the numbing agent.

"So you do not catch a chill," came the murmur as he began to massage the essence into all of the notable scarring, "I will endeavor to finish quickly."

His touch was gentle but at the same time firm as his hands moved over her body in ways that Ron's never had. Though Ron had of course enjoyed touching her breasts, his experience in that area was hardly much greater than hers. If not for his time with Lavender he wouldn't have had ANY more experience than she did! It wasn't his fault that he hadn't learned much from his first girlfriend, but still, basically sex with him had just involved random squeezing and pinching of her breasts and nipples.

These were not acts which had elicited much pleasure for her.

With Snape though, and the feathery strokes of his fingertips as he lightly caressed her skin from shoulders to breasts to belly, even though his touch was primarily intended to heal and not stimulate . . . though she knew he was deliberately trying to give her pleasure as well . . . Hermione could feel herself getting aroused. And she wished she was well enough for them to actually have intercourse, but she knew that was out of the question. So unfortunately . . . she took a ragged breath as she felt him pull away with a whispered, "that should do it" . . . this was all the stimulation she was getting for today.

More the pity.

And then she felt her sleeves coming up and her shirt coming together . . . the buttons slipped back into place.

"Now for your hands," he murmured. And she immediately tensed up as his words had the effect of a metaphorical splash of cold water on her libido because her fingers had been burned down to the bone, and she remembered the horror of that moment when she realized she could see those knobs of white on her knuckles. So no matter what they did, potions, magic, or Dittany, her fingers might remain permanently damaged.

She knew this.

And as the weight of the silk disappeared with his muttered spell, she tensed even further.

"How do they look?" Her voice was tight, but then she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder again.

It was a genuine comfort that he could now freely touch her there.

"Much better than they were," he answered with a sigh of relief, "the fingers are no longer translucent, and though the structural repair is not yet complete, the flesh and muscle are filling in nicely. And I do firmly believe the acceleration has been from the magic sharing, because I know what my potions can do, and potions alone could not have done this much so fast. But still, you will not wish to see them for at least another two days. And actually," he squeezed her shoulder, "I think it would be best to wait until morning to apply the Dittany here. It will do more good then, and also this is not skin ready yet to be massaged, so we must be careful with the application."

"Right," she bit her lip, "good point. Okay, so you'll just put the gloves back?"

"Yes, though," and she heard him moving something about, "with one addition."

"What's the . . ."

But before she had a chance to finish the question, the gloves had covered over her hands again. This time though . . . her eyes slowly opened . . . they felt different.

"You lined them with fur," she whispered as her gaze locked onto his, "is it real?"

"Fake," he replied with a dry eyebrow towards the sleeping cat across the room, "it did not seem appropriate to use real."

Her expression softened in relief.

"Thank you, I don't like real fur for exactly that reason. The gloves though, they are," and she lightly wriggled her fingers, "very comfortable, and much warmer now."

"Yes," he nodded while turning away to tuck the Dittany into its place on the potion lineup, "I figured you could use the extra layering with the cooler air settling in tonight. And also," he turned back with a faint smile, "that texture of material is safe at this stage in your recovery. So with that," he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, "I will bid you a good night."

As he straightened up and began to turn away, she let out a hesitant whisper of, "you know you don't have to sleep on the cot tonight. You could sleep here."

And when he turned back to look down at her in surprise, she tipped her head.

"Well, I was just thinking. You believe the magic sharing is helping to accelerate the healing, and I agree, but I'm also starting to believe that maybe it's the actual bond too. If it is, then perhaps our having extended physical contact would help to move my healing along even faster." Then she shrugged, "but even if I'm wrong and it doesn't have any effect, I still feel better when you're holding me, so," she bit her lip, "I don't see a downside."

Snape's jaw twitched as he looked between Miss Granger's pouty lip, and the bed she was lying upon.

"Well," he responded slowly, "I suppose it would be all right. Because my main concern would have been the potential for chafing of your raw flesh, but," his gaze narrowed slightly as he looked her over, "I think we have fully passed that stage at least. Your hands are still quite delicate, but they are no longer raw, and either way are now covered. Though," and then he looked at her worriedly, "you are sure you do not feel any excess of pain when I am holding you?"

Her mouth quivered slightly at that.

"No," she gave him a soft smile, "the one thing I do not feel when you are holding me, is an excess of pain. It is exactly the opposite. It's the one time when the pain mostly fades."

His expression softened.

"All right then, we shall try it. But if you do feel any discomfort, you must promise to say something, agreed?"

She quickly nodded.

"Agreed."

So with that settled, Snape pulled out his wand and made a quick adjustment to the size of the already transfigured bed. Rather than the standard single he had created simply for her, he expanded the width by an additional meter to give them enough space to lie together comfortably. Then he turned around, and after accio'ing his blanket and pillow to his new sleeping area, he set the cot back into its original state of Fireside Reading Chair.

A swirl of his wrist then sent the chair levitating back across the room and over to the other side of the hearth.

As it floated past him, Crookshanks reached out a paw, trying to catch a loose thread dangling from the fabric. And hearing Miss Granger's soft giggle, Snape found his own lip quivering.

Those giggles were a gift.

"Do you ever enchant toys for him?" He asked half over his shoulder while settling the chair down on the carpet. And he saw her smile turn melancholy as she shook her head.

"Not for a long time."

Her words were heavy with regret. And for a moment he just looked at her, before finally letting out a slow breath.

"Pick your side of the bed, Miss Granger," he stated softly, before adding with a wry quirk of his brow, "and do choose well, because you might be stuck with it for some time."

Her eyes widened slightly as a surprised, "oh, right," passed her lips.

If their plan to remain permanently bonded came to pass, she would be choosing a side of the bed for the rest of their time together. That could be another hundred years. So that was a bit of a big, long term, decision to make on the spot. And she found her brow furrowing as she looked back up to him.

"If I pick one side tonight and everything works out as we hope it will, could we maybe switch sides later?"

Noting how worried she looked over such an inconsequential thing . . . he would of course let her sleep wherever she wished at any point in their time together . . . Snape found his mouth quivering.

He quickly got that under control.

"I suppose," he responded flatly, "if you insist, that approach would be acceptable."

"Okay then," she nodded seriously, "I'm going to choose the left . . . until I'm eighty. Then I want to try the right side, just to see."

And he could not help himself . . . a bark of laughter slipped out. At first she looked offended, but then she smiled. As his fingers began slowly working the buttons on his frock coat, he shook his head.

His eyes were still sparked with amusement.

"You are a ridiculous witch."

Her lip quirked up.

"I know, but it just suddenly seemed like a very big decision and that seemed like the best approach."

Feeling a tickle of exasperation mixing in with his amusement, Snape rolled his eyes as he began to slip his coat from his shoulders.

"Miss Granger, it is most assuredly NOT a big decision as I would never hold you to any choice that you make on a matter of so little consequence. If our relationship continues in perpetuity, as is becoming my most fervent desire, and you decide to change your sleeping spot tomorrow, or next Tuesday, or eight years from next THURSDAY, then that is what we shall do! Because it does not matter as long as we are able to stay to, together."

His words stuttered at the end, because he suddenly realized that they were in the midst of what could objectively only be described as a "domestic quarrel." He felt a sudden burst of warmth in his chest. Because this was something he could have all the time now. A life made up not of the loneliness and despair that he had always had, but one with a mate, where they could have simple, utterly ridiculous arguments of no consequence over who will sleep where and what type of muggle biscuits to have with their tea.

What a brilliant life that would be.

And when he looked back over to Miss Granger, he saw her watching him closely. Then she bit down on her lip.

"Would you come to bed now, please?" Hermione whispered, "I'm getting a chill."

In fact she was not cold at all, but when he'd said that he wanted to stay with her forever, she'd suddenly felt such an ache of longing for him, that all she wanted was to curl up in his arms again. So she watched as he nodded slowly.

"Just one moment."

Then he pulled out his wand and tightened the wards on the house. After that he removed his boots and socks and loosened his collar. Seeing him briefly touch his throat, her eyes tracked along the scar that was usually hidden beneath the thick white cotton.

That cursed snake.

And she was not referring to Nagini. That creature had no choice in what it was, the other one did. And she had to wonder now, if she had known all along that this wizard had always been destined to be her wizard, would she have made different choices in the war.

She did not know.

The only thing she was sure of, was how grateful she was to have this man in the way she did now. For so many reasons, he suddenly seemed to be quite the perfect match for her. Flaws and all.

On both sides.

So after he'd set a "Nox" on the lights, and a charm on the fireplace, (something to do with the wood pile) he climbed up onto the bed, and it was on the right side, just as she'd requested. She couldn't help but notice the little wink he gave her as he shifted down the mattress.

It caused a faint flush on her cheeks.

And given how he had been touching her so intimately earlier, fortunately neither of them had any hesitance in physically lying together now. All he did was adjust the set of his pillow by hers, and she shifted over to cuddle against his chest.

Her movements were a bit freer now that her injuries were healing. The pain was lessened too, so unlike before, the potion was getting most of it.

Thank Merlin.

So once her head was tucked in on his shoulder, she felt his arm slide around her waist and his palm spread out protectively over her stomach. A moment later the blankets came up and covered over both of them.

"I do love your wandless magic," she murmured sleepily, and he let out a slight huff in return, of, "that is very sad that you are impressed by a skill you also possess."

"Oh, just hush and take the compliment," she yawned back. Which was when she heard him huff again, just before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, muppet." She whispered in response, and hearing him grunt indignantly, she let out a sleepy giggle, "I told you, muppet stays until you pick something else for me."

"At this point I do not think you will be very pleased with what I pick out for you," he cut back.

His snippy tone was completely undercut by the fact that he was actively cuddling her to his chest while he grumbled in her ear. And as the old muggle adage said . . . actions always speak louder than words.

And by actions alone . . . she felt him press another kiss to the top of her head as he gently rubbed her belly, her eyes crinkled . . . they were doing just fine.

A/N 2: And there we go, plot movement and cuddling. The goal is to include some cuddling in every chapter for bonding purposes ;)

It is a balancing act writing Snape as affectionate and loving but not too soft either because I don't want to make MYSELF gag :) I feel like the muppet thing is a good button to press for Faux Grumpy Snape to pop up again. And for the background I'm putting for him, I always felt that his love for Lily was more 'pure,' than romantic. Not to say that it might not have been a crush at some point in adolescence, but I think her importance in his life was really that she was his ONLY person, ever. Most people have friends and family and support systems that shift over the years, but he didn't. He just had her, and he lost her twice and had to live with that guilt in contributing to her death. That's why I always saw his lasting affection for her ("always") as being driven by his gratitude over their early years together. Even for canon purposes, I don't think he was carrying a thirty year torch for her. Which means for OUR purposes here, his history is that he's had sex with women over the years, but no actual relationships for obvious reasons. But now he's giving it a shot :)

If you're still enjoying our twists and turns here I'd love to hear from you. And if you've already written me a note, I will try to get back to you this week. It's been very busy at work, but I have built up enough OT to now afford to 'completely isolate' for three or four days mid-week. Hoping to get some writing done too.

Hope everyone stays healthy. Good luck!