Author's Note: Hey all! So happy to be back here. And with so much so awful, let's go play pretend for awhile.

Picking up later that night. And figuring we could all desperately use some warm fuzzies, that's what you're getting here, but I think with enough Snape grumbling to keep anyone from getting nauseous :)

Impossible Things

Hermione woke up with a slow fluttering of her lashes. When her eyes finally opened onto the fire lit room, she blinked twice as her palm lightly pressed down on Snape's chest. It took a second, but then she realized why she was awake.

She needed to use the toilet.

Bollocks.

With all of their focus on the Dittany, the evening trip to the bathroom was the one thing that she and Snape had forgotten to cover while she had his magic to bolster her energy. And now she was lying there trying to figure out what time it was . . . still pitch dark outside, but not incredibly helpful as a timestamp when she could hear rain pounding on the roof . . . and how long it was going to take her to fall back to sleep with this pressure on her bladder. Because really she could not imagine waking up her newly discovered bondmate only to ask him to perform yet another magic sharing session with her, simply so she'd have the physical strength to work the wandless cleansing spell. It would be a ridiculous request for the dead of night.

So again . . . she bit her lip . . . bollocks.

And she was just about to try crossing her legs until she passed out again, when she felt the warm body next to her begin to stir. She tried to remain completely still, hoping that Snape would fall back to sleep, but then she came the deep, sleepy rumble of, "tell me what is wrong," as his hand slid across her hip.

Clearly he knew she was already awake. Merlin, he didn't even pose that one as a QUESTION!

So she let out a weary huff.

"I have to use the bathroom, but I was going to try to just hold it until dawn. I didn't mean to wake you."

Really, she hadn't done much more than open her eyes and move one hand across his chest, so it was a surprise that she'd disrupted his sleep. But then she felt him begin to shift around as he answered on a yawn, "you did not wake me. I believe it was the bond. In the midst of a dream, suddenly I felt a sharp tug on my consciousness, as real as though someone were tugging on my robes," he looked down at her with a blink, "and then I was awake."

Hermione blinked back.

"So what, you think the bond knew that I needed you, so it just woke you up even though I had consciously decided against it?"

"Well," he brought his hand up to smother another yawn, "I am now awake, and you do indeed need me, so," he shrugged half a shoulder, "yes, apparently that is exactly how it works. Now," he slid the hand on her hip, slowly up her back until it was resting on her neck, "four minutes should allot enough of my magic to cover the wandless spell, yes?"

"Um," Hermione nodded and blinked again as he began gently rubbing her neck, "yes, yes, I think so. But I still can't get passed how strange it is that the bond can wake you up for me. That's," she bit her lip, "I mean I've heard stories of course about the amazing things soul bonds can do, but I just can't believe ours is already so strong."

That's when she saw Snape's sleepy expression soften further as he looked down at her.

"I can believe it," he whispered, and feeling a surge of feeling from him which she knew had nothing to do with the bond, or the magic sharing, her eyes began to sting.

"You are a burnt marshmallow," she answered back with a watery smile, "black and crunchy on the outside, soft and mushy on the inside." And seeing the scowl he shot her while muttering, "I am no disfigured confectionery," she let out a soft chuckle just before she tucked her head back against his chest.

As she felt his other arm slide up to wrap around her hips, under the blanket, she closed her eyes. A moment later he kissed her ear. She took a breath.

"I guess it does make sense that the bond is already so strong," she murmured against his throat, speaking as though there had been no pause in their discussion, "because obviously it existed before we ever knew it was there, so I suppose it's just been waiting for us to tap into it, and now that we have, our growing affections have simply amplified its power. And as a side point to that," she added the next point with a contented sigh, "magic sharing cuddled up like this, is almost as nice as when I sit in your lap, and if I didn't have to wee so badly it would be a marvelous way to go back to sleep."

"We can do it in this position any night that you wish," Snape answered with a nuzzle to her ear. And feeling another burst of affection rise up in her then, Hermione responded with a kiss to his scar. The act was impulsive, but she could feel how it made his breath catch.

That in turn did the same to hers.

And if not for, again, that annoyingly overpowering need to wee, she would have happily escalated their physical relations. Perhaps with a proper kiss at least, but she wasn't really in the state for anything more 'romantic' at the moment. Her bladder was just too much of a distraction.

Beyond that though, another unexpected thought had just occurred to Hermione and she shifted back slightly to look up at the man holding her.

"If we were to both fall asleep," she asked with a wrinkle in her brow, "and our connection was inadvertently maintained for the remainder of the night, do you think that your magical stores could actually become depleted?"

Snape's jaw twisted for a moment as he thought about the question but then he bit his lip.

"In theory, perhaps," he answered thoughtfully, "but I do not think in practice it would be likely to happen. At least not with us. For one thing, I am approaching my prime years of wizarding power, so it would take a considerable event to deplete my magic in any meaningful way. Even last year with Nagini, though I was weakened physically for some weeks, the ability to use my magic was only marginally affected for the first forty-eight hours. More to the point though, I think with the two of us in particular, the bond would be a," he tipped his head slightly, "safety net, as it were."

"Oh," Hermione cut in with a bite of her lip, "right. I mean if it can wake you up simply because I need your help, then it would definitely wake you up if I was taking too much of your magic from you. That makes me feel better."

For a moment Snape was quiet, but then she felt his lips brush against her ear as he whispered, somewhat haltingly, "perhaps it would awaken me, but if something catastrophic were to happen and you needed to take all of my magic, I do believe I am close to the point where I would give it all to you."

There was such genuine emotion in his voice, and yes faint surprise too . . . a reminder that this was still so new for both of them . . . that Hermione felt her heart swell as her eyes again filled with tears.

Her silk covered hand came up to touch his cheek.

"You keep saying things like that," she choked back, "and you won't need the bond to have me for the next hundred and thirty years."

Of course that was the goal though, for the bond to become entirely incidental. For their feelings to continue to deepen . . . she bit her lip . . . until they had fallen in love. Truly, madly, deeply, as they say. She was definitely on her way.

Apparently Snape was too.

And when she heard him pull in a ragged breath as he gently kissed her neck, she felt a fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. It was astounding that somehow the most HORRENDOUS mistake of her life had brought her back to this man. This brilliant, taciturn, sweet, cranky, adoringly affectionate, wizard, who had turned out to likely be the best thing that could have ever happened to her.

She still was not quite sure how to reconcile those two points.

One on hand it didn't seem right that she would be given such a gift. That in order to truly atone for what she had done to her parents, the universe should have made her suffer for so much longer. But on the other hand . . . it had been almost a year. By wizarding life spans that was just a blink in time of course, but every day of that year she'd been living in a true hell. There had been no denial or hiding from the truth of the crime she had committed. Not when she'd been in complete isolation, responsible for the daily care of the two people she'd loved the most, who could now no longer feed or wash themselves. Or even know when they needed to use the toilet. So many times they'd spilled food or soiled their clothing, and she'd had to help them clean up like they were infants. She'd been forced to see the damage she had done to them in the most intimate and painful ways. It had been a nightmare from which there was no escape.

And mostly . . . she let out a heavy sigh . . . she was still living in it.

The only time she felt this happiness as she did now, was when Snape was holding her. When he wasn't there, or when she was dreaming, or simply alone and lost in her own head, all she could think of was what had gone wrong, and all that still could if he didn't find a way to heal her parents.

This connection with him was all that was keeping her from sliding back off the edge.

So if she was getting a few minutes of happiness with him here or there each day, well, maybe it wasn't so much a reward, but more that without this time she would likely be teetering on the edge of madness by the end of all this.

She still might be.

But as she felt the comforting threads of his magic moving through her body, it was difficult to believe in such an ugly end, if only because she doubted that Snape would now ever allow it. And a few minutes later, once she felt like she had received enough magic from him to cover the wandless spell, she gave his chest a pat and murmured, "I think that'll cover it." So he took a breath and started shifting them around.

It was fairly easy getting up with them both in the same bed. He just wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side. Then he swung his legs around, leaned over, and pulled her into his lap. After that he took a deep breath and slowly came up to his feet. From there it was just like normal.

Or at least what now passed as normal for them.

"I definitely want to try walking today," she murmured as they started out of the room. And he nodded back a, "yes, I think with my assistance that will be fine. We do not want your muscles to become weakened, so even if you still feel unsteady without my magical boost, stretching the muscles would be wise."

It was a relief to hear Snape agreeing with her, because as Hermione had recently discovered, when it came to her well being, he could be very protective. That was a wonderful thing, and she was so grateful that he cared, but if he'd pushed back on her walking simply because he didn't want to risk her falling, that wouldn't have come as a great surprise. But really, she just wanted to stop being such a burden to him. And the first step towards reclaiming her independence, was obviously getting her physical strength back.

The rest would come from there.

For now though, they repeated the bathroom steps which had so quickly become routine to them. But this was the first time that they had conducted them in the dead of a freezing night. In fact, Hermione was so cold after Snape had stepped out and vanished her clothing, that she started shaking. And once she'd finished her business and had called, (yelled really), that she was done, she had actually reached the point of teeth chattering too.

So when Snape whipped the door open, before he was able to do more than raise his wand up, she'd half stumbled, half dove, in her completely naked state, directly into his chest.

"I'm ss-sooo, c-c-cold!"

The words came out in a stammer, and Snape let one arm wrap around her shoulders as he snorted back an amused, "all right, Miss Granger, but I do need a moment please, for the spell. You are much too distracting in this state."

When she let out grunt, he pulled his arm away, raised his wand up, and murmured the incantation. The underpants and nightshirt immediately covered over her again. so he tucked his wand into his pants pocket, and wrapped her up in his arms.

"Is that better?" He murmured with a rub of his cheek on her short hair.

"Yes," she chattered out, "thank you. It's really awful being by all by yourself when you're cold and naked."

Snape grunted back a dry, "yes, I am aware," as he rolled his eyes and patted her back.

When she hadn't stopped shaking after another minute though, he scooped her up and started them quickly out of the bathroom and back down the hallway. He did take a moment on the way to wandlessly Accio over his shoulder, one of the 'indoor' robes from his front hall closet.

It fluttered along behind them as they headed back into the sitting room.

Once he had placed the still shaking Miss Granger down onto the bed, he turned, and with another incantation and wave of his wand, she was wearing the oversized woolen garment. It was about three sizes too big for her, and seeing her there, with her arms coming up to cross at her chest, completely enveloped in those yards of black fabric, he felt a fresh wave of deep affection rise up in him. Before he could even process that feeling, he saw her tipping her head down to give the robe a sniff, and when she looked back over at him, there was a faint, sleepy, smile on her face.

"Have I told you how much I love your smell?" She asked softly.

"My smell," he repeated back in confusion, and a fair degree of what could only be described as alarm, "what do I smell like?"

"Safe," her voice faded off, "you smell safe."

Feeling his expression soften as his chest warmed, he stooped down in front of the bed and placed his hands on her thighs.

His eyebrow quirked up.

"May I give you a proper kiss, Miss Granger?" he asked while tipping his head slightly to the side.

At Snape's question, for the third time in the last half hour, Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as she nodded back.

"Yes you may, my muppet."

His eyes narrowed slightly at that, but when she snorted out a half giggle he leaned in closer as his fingertips pressed into her thighs. Her eyes fell shut.

At first his lips met hers with only the gentlest of brushes, but then he applied just a bit more pressure and she felt a literal spark jump between the two of them.

She squeaked.

"Oh," she breathed out as he broke away with a gasp, "was that static electricity?!" And she saw Snape's eyes roll as he licked the corner of his lip.

"We have been in constant physical contact for the last ten minutes, Miss Granger," he bit back tightly, "so please do tell me how that SPARK could have come from a static buildup?!"

There was such a clear note of offense in his tone, that Hermione couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Oh my grumpy muppet," she giggled while reaching out to touch his cheek, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to imply that it couldn't have come from kissing you. I've just never had that happen when I kissed ANYONE before! Now come here," she patted his cheek as her open amusement morphed into a soft smile, "we need to do it properly."

Though it took a moment of him giving her a solid scowl for the giggling, (and probably for the "muppet" too), finally he let out a heavy breath and rolled his eyes once again. Then he let his hands slide up her thighs to settle on her hips . . . he pulled her to the edge of the bed.

"No giggling," was the last thing he muttered while leaning in again.

All she got out was a snort before his lips covered hers once more. That time there was no physical jolt, but it was still not like any kiss Hermione had had before. The feeling was just . . . she let out a soft sigh . . . exquisite. Better even than the magic sharing. It was like they'd sealed the connection that they'd been building.

Now all she felt was joy.

And when she felt him nibble, just a tiny bit, on the corner of her lower lip she let out a soft moan.

He broke away with a huff.

"More static?" He asked dryly. And once again . . . she burst out laughing, though it came out half on a pant.

"You are an idiot!"

Seeing his mouth quiver ever so slightly, she knew that he wasn't genuinely annoyed that time, so she just reached out to put her hand on top of his . . . and oh she wished she could actually hold it.

"It was amazing," she whispered with a soft smile, "and you bloody well know it. Now," she gave his hand a pat, "come back up here to bed. I'm sleepy. You can snog me senseless tomorrow."

"Just tomorrow?" Snape asked with a faint smirk as he slowly came up to his feet . . . her hand fell back into the folds of the robe he had draped over her.

Her eyes crinkled.

"Yes, just tomorrow. And maybe the next day, and the next day, and the next day, but most definitely not the day after that. I'll be busy."

That time he couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped. Nor could he stop himself from leaning down to give Miss Granger one more peck on her beautifully swollen lips.

"Ridiculous witch," he mumbled while pulling away.

She just grinned.

So he shifted her back and got her settled under the covers, then he continued around to the other side of their temporary, transfigured bed . . . he was already thinking about moving them upstairs the next night . . . and climbed in beside her. Almost immediately she had cuddled into his chest, and as he slid his arm around her waist, he had to take a breath simply to remind himself that this was now his life.

He had a witch to share his bed.

Not just any witch though, one that he was falling in love with at a speed which would have alarmed him under literally ANY other circumstances. His obvious fear would have been that he had been dosed with a love potion, or worse, that SHE had been dosed, and that all of this was just . . . his lips pursed . . . pretend.

But it was not.

He knew that from the way Miss Granger looked at him, and the way that she kissed his hideous scar and called him her muppet. It was still a horrifying, completely unacceptable, nickname, but the affection in her voice when she used it, it sparked an undeniable ember in his chest. It was love.

And it was growing.

It was his last thought as he pressed a final kiss to the top of Miss Granger's head and let himself drift off to slumber.

/*/*/*/

Snape awoke to the sound of a muggle garbage truck beeping out front.

Monday morning.

He knew this because that filthy truck had been lumbering through this part of Spinner's End on Monday morning for the last three decades. A person could literally set a watch by it. Of course he did not have a watch, useless things, so instead he simply cast a Tempus instead. All it did was confirm what he already suspected.

It was six thirty seven in the am.

Luckily though, when his gaze shifted down to the warm body curled into his side, he saw that Miss Granger was still sound asleep. That was logical. If not for the biological imperatives which had woken her in the middle of the night, the potions she had taken would have kept her sleeping through until at least eight am. So knowing that he likely had a little more time before she would awaken again on her own, he very reluctantly wriggled out of her grasp and shifted over until he could swing his legs over the side of the bed.

After he had come to his feet with a yawn, he turned back to fix the blankets up around Miss Granger's shoulders. Then, to his absolute horror, he found himself blowing a kiss to her sleeping form.

His hand dropped as he let loose a fierce scowl.

Bloody hell! The woman was going to have complete custody of his testicles within the WEEK!

But alas, as he headed out of the sitting room with a faint, resigned, growl, he knew that even with his testicles transferring ownership, he would not change these developments in their relationship for anything. This woman, this glorious witch, having her affections was a gift beyond any measure.

He would be voluntarily damned to Azkaban before he would fuck it up.

And knowing that he needed to make the best use of his time before she awoke, he hurried up the stairs to urinate, then brush his teeth, shave and take a proper shower. After he had toweled off, and charmed his hair dry, he set a series of cleaning spells on the bathroom before he crossed, naked, over to his bedroom across the upstairs hall to pull out his clothing for the day.

Navy trousers and a matching frock coat with a white dress shirt.

Though he was aware that he was not handsome, looking at himself in the full length mirror inside the closet, Snape knew that he did at least look sharp. That was the best he could do. And reminding himself then of his plans for his and Miss Granger's sleeping arrangements that night, he gave a good look around his bedroom.

It was . . . his lips pursed . . . embarrassing.

Truly, the wallpaper was torn and dirty, the linens on the bed, though clean, were ancient and faded, and the less observation made about the scratched up muggle furniture, the better. This was not a room he could ever let her see.

It would shame him.

In his defense though, during wartime he could not have given less of a care about this miserable house that he had only dwelled in during summer breaks. And since the Dark Lord's demise, and his own near death, he had been stuck, suffering a true, near all consuming, depression. Again, not a mental state which gave much thought for the state of one's furnishings.

Now though . . . he walked over to pick up his wand from the bed . . . it was time to begin living again.

So after taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and banished everything from the room. When he opened his eyes again he set a charm to magically enlarge the small space by five feet in either direction. Of course it would still look the same to the muggles in the street, but the internal change would be permanent as long as the charm remained set. And once everything had been stretched to a satisfactory length, he raised his wand and pointed it at the walls.

The torn wallpaper put up by his mother so many decades ago disappeared and was immediately replaced by a coat of emerald green paint.

As long he was redecorating for the first time in his life, he might as well go Slytherin.

To that end, the scratched wooden floors under his feet were turned a complimentary, through much darker, shade of green. Next he brought the furniture back into the room one piece at a time. Each was transfigured into something new. All in a pale oak to offset the dark paint. His old reading chair was recovered with a green and silver brocade fabric. Then he made a twin of the chair, but with the colors of the brocade in crimson and gold.

They were set on either side of the newly polished bricks of the hearth.

He also added an additional bookcase to the room, beyond the two he already had. The third one though, he left all of those shelves empty.

For Miss Granger's use of course.

The last item he worked on was the bed.

The one he had been sleeping in all these years had always been a single . . . literally the bed of his youth . . . but that could be no more. In fact, given how depressing his life/love life had been to date, he could not imagine Miss Granger lying on that bed at all, no matter what he did to it. So with a puff of smoke, he vanished it completely, and instead took an old footstool from the hall closet and levitated it over to where he wanted to place the new bed. Then he closed his eyes again and let himself picture his Miss Granger. Her soft curves and beautiful face, current scars and all, and how he desired only the best for her. When he opened his eyes again, he cracked his wand at the stool. It instantly transfigured into a beautiful pine bed fit for a muggle queen.

It was . . . in a word . . . enormous.

It had a matching headboard and footboard, both carved with ornate lattice work, two thick mattresses piled on the frame, silken sheets, wool blankets lined in cashmere, a mass of ridiculously fluffy and pointless, pillows, and a heavy down-filled quilt, made of silk, covering over the whole thing. And as an additional nod to his Miss Granger's happiness, the colors of the bed furnishings were done in both green and crimson with accents of gold thread running through everything to tie it all together.

He wanted her to know that this bed was made for her too.

Really, it did look quite inviting if he did say so himself. And outside of the bed coverings, the new décor was still quite simple, literally just a few coats of paint with plain wooden furniture, but the shades of green were much warmer than the dingy old wallpaper and scratched floors. And if Miss Granger wished to put up any paintings or photographs . . . not something he was opposed to in principle . . . she would have a blank canvas with the walls. All in all, he was quite pleased with the results. And with all of that addressed, he headed back over to the bathroom to see how that had turned out in his absence.

Again . . . he nodded approvingly as he stood in the doorway a moment later . . . very well.

The claw tub had had a scouring charm set on it, so it was now literally sparkling in the sunlight streaming through the small window. The rest of the bathroom was spotless as well, so all he had to do was set an incantation to repair the dozen or so cracked tiles he could now clearly see all over the room, though he had never actually noticed them before.

It was interesting, and a little depressing, seeing his world now through someone else's eyes. Of course he knew that Miss Granger would not care about cracked tiles, she was not a shallow person, but he knew that she was an observant one. Which meant that she would notice those imperfections.

And that was why they needed to be fixed.

Then in deference to his bond mate's known desire for a bath that day . . . which was the reason he was focusing so much effort on the bathroom right now at all . . . he vanished the old curtains which hung from the window frame, and had also always surrounded that tub.

Both sets were the original, sun faded, pink and yellow daisy prints, (in a sixties style), chosen by his mother before he was even born. And remembering a conversation he had once overheard at Grimmauld Place where Miss Granger had spoken of her love of roses, that was the flower he chose for the new hangings.

Blood red curtains adorned with cascades of yellow roses covering over them.

It was such a small change adding that spark of color, but it truly did transform the small tiled room. As a final act, he set a water repellent charm on the fabric around the bathtub, so they wouldn't need to add those sad plastic liners as the muggles did.

Everything now looked quite . . . he let out a slow breath . . . acceptable.

Enough time had passed too, at least an hour since he had awoken, that he knew he needed to get breakfast started before Miss Granger awoke. Fortunately, magic did make this type of chore go much more quickly, so he was already waving his wand to get the kettle boiling and the eggs out of the refrigerator, before he'd even finished walking down the stairs.

By the time he'd reached the kitchen, the tea bags were placing themselves in the mugs and the cast iron was placing itself onto the burner. All he had to do was add in the slices of ham, and oversee the cracking of the eggs . . . even with magic, shells were always a risk if a wizard was not careful . . . before he added a few shakes of salt and pepper to the pan, and set the heat down low.

By his estimation, everything would be done in about seven minutes.

Which was perfect timing actually, because he had just heard Miss Granger calling his name. Feeling his breath quicken . . . again, losing custody of his testicles . . . he turned and stepped over to the kitchen doorway.

"I was just about to awaken you," he answered back with a faint quirk of his lip. And as he began to walk into the sitting room, his eyes widened.

"Oh," he let out a pleased sigh, "your skin looks remarkable today, Miss Granger."

"Really?" She responded hopefully as she tried to push herself up, "no more scars?"

He shook his head as he walked up to the bed.

"Definitely no visible scars on your face," he answered while scrunching his brow. "In fact, outside of us still needing to address your missing eyelashes and eyebrows, your countenance is looking more normal than I ever would have dared to hope after only seventy-two hours of treatment."

For a moment she just blinked up at him, then her face lit up in a brilliant grin.

"Oh, I bet it was the SNOGGING!"

Once again, he could not help the snort of laughter that escaped. Not once before in his life had he ever had such difficulty in maintaining his composure. Seventy-two hours with this witch and she had almost completely destroyed it. Thank Merlin they had not found one another as bond mates while he was still functioning as a spy.

He would have been flayed within the first week.

"More likely it was the Dittany," he responded dryly, though with a good natured eye roll, "but your theory is an interesting one for submission to Potions Monthly."

When she just let out a small chuckle, he huffed and leaned over to pull back her blankets. Realizing then that she was still wearing his robe over her nightshirt, he vanished the bulky covering before he reached over to lift her off the bed.

His plan was to carry her over to his reading chair to do a short magic sharing session, and then help her walk down the hallway to the bathroom. But as he moved to lift her up to his chest, she patted his shoulder.

"Actually," she asked softly, "could you please put me on the floor? I'd like to try standing up for a minute?"

"Of course, my witch," he murmured obligingly, "whatever you wish."

So he shifted his hold, and let her feet drop to the carpet.

For a moment he just looked down at her as she seemed to stare at her toes. Her hands were braced lightly against his chest.

Before he could ask if she was all right, suddenly she had lifted her head and smiled.

"It seems that you are you feeling much better today, yes?" He whispered as one of his hands moved off her hip, to settle on her lower back.

"I do feel better," she answered with a nod, "there's still definitely some pain, but it's nothing like it was."

Then, to his surprise, she suddenly leaned up on her tiptoes to slide her arms around his neck. She tugged him down into a hug.

A proper one.

And now with her warm body pressed entirely against his front, Snape could feel how her legs were shaking with the exertion of stretching those muscles. So he let that hand on her back spread out so that his palm was splayed flat. The hand he had placed on her other hip, moved up so that arm was wrapped fully around her shoulders.

He just wanted to make sure that she was safe and anchored, so both moves were meant more as protective, even than affectionate. Though actually, he realized then that his protective instincts were born of his affection for her, so one really led into the other. And he was wondering if from the sigh he felt against his throat, Miss Granger recognized his movements in the same way as well.

"You waking up with me last night for half an hour, just so I could go to the bathroom," Hermione murmured after a moment of simply breathing in her muppet's clean, spicy, scent, "it was a reminder that all weekend you have been taking such good care of me," her voice hitched, "and this was the only way I could think of to say thank you right now."

For a moment Snape was quiet and still, thinking about what she had said. But then finally he whispered back.

"I told you on the first day, witch, it would be no bother to take care of you."

"No," she breathed out against his throat, "you said it would be no bother to heal me, but you taking care of me, that's different."

"There is no difference to me," he admittedly softly, "there never was."

Feeling her eyes begin to fill, she let out another sigh and buried her face into his throat.

"Severus Snape, you are my sweet, wonderful, wizard and I am so grateful that we have found each other again."

It was not only that she said those words, but how she said them . . . with the crackle in her voice . . . that made Snape's chest heave. But he was not accustomed to having to process his feelings openly after so many years of occlumency and suppression. So all he could think to do as thanks for Miss Granger's lovely expression of her affection, was to lean back so he could lift her fully off the carpet.

He gave her a fierce hug.

And hearing her sniffling against his shoulder, he was about to put her back down on the bed and snog her senseless just as she had said he could, when . . . of course . . . the kettle began to scream.

The sniffle morphed into a giggle.

"Guess that's the end of the moment!"

And he grunted out a surly, "yes," he slowly lowered her back down to the carpet, "it seems that it is. But here now," he slipped his arm around her waist and started slowly walking her across the sitting room, "let us go to the kitchen together. I think if you are healed enough to initiate an embrace, you are healed enough sit at the table for breakfast. We will do your potions out there as well."

Hearing her sniffle back an, "oh yes, I'd like that very much," as she leaned on his chest, and shuffled along slowly as his side, he shook his head at the realization that he was now entering a world of disgusting domesticity. Monday morning breakfast together in the nook.

His lip quirked up.

What a lucky bastard he was!

A/N 2: I looked and saw that my last update was literally the day before our state's lockdown began, but not unsurprisingly, the advent of our mini-Apocalypse(s) kind of put a dent in the writing process. I'm sure I'm not the only one who had that issue because I think I've only seen maybe two story updates pop into my emails since March. Especially that first month, it was difficult to properly focus on anything that didn't revolve around how to avoid catching an extremely unpleasant respiratory virus and/or finding toilet paper. And now it's still that plus, obviously, so much more, but I had to let my brain escape that stress finally. And though I had planned for this chapter to end on a different note (to take them into the following evening when Hermione gets her wand back) it kind of got sidetracked with the kissing and his redecorating to make her happy, but I was pleased with how it all came together, so I decided to cut it here and post as the fuzziness than it is rather than diluting it with additional 'plot' :)

I am hoping to get back onto a semblance of regular postings again, (ideally once a week or so), so thank you to those of you who are patiently sticking around through the process. And I would love to hear from you too ;) Thanks all!