Chapter Seven

Hermione stared up at Harry. What in the bloody hell, she thought.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"What are you doing here?" he retorted. "Come on. We have to get out of here." He glanced over his shoulder at Severus and Professor Sinistra. "Now, if you don't want a scene."

Hermione huffed and looked over at the bench. Severus and Professor Sinistra were still speaking, their dark heads bent close together. As long as Harry shut his mouth and kept out of their sight, it seemed unlikely any kind of scene would ensue.

"Get down," she whispered insistently.

"Get up," he replied. "Or I promise you, I will go over there."

Hermione glared at him. She doubted he would make good on his threat to blow her cover, but the simple act of him standing there would do it for him if Severus were to look over.

"Fine," she snapped, smacking away his hand. She got to her feet and followed him to the entrance of the park. She started to exit, but he grabbed her arm.

"Remove your glamors first," he said, pointing to a partially hidden alcove. "Please," he added when she made a face.

"I don't see how you saw through them in the first place," she muttered. Harry had the audacity to laugh.

"I may not be as smart as you, Hermione," he said. "But I am an Auror. I spent the better part of two years of training to see through them." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, you've been my best mate for almost fifteen years. We lived in a tent together, even shared a bloody wand. I can detect your magical signature from a kilometer away."

Well, Hermione thought somewhat mollified; at least his Auror training was good for something. Even if he had nearly blown up her rather precarious spy mission. She pulled her wand discretely from her pocket and murmured, "Finite Incantatem."

"Thank you," Harry said. "The blonde hair and round jaw were unsettling." She raised an eyebrow and he explained. "You looked too much like this dark witch we caught just a few weeks ago. She led us on quite the chase throughout Wales." He tapped at a small scar still visible on his chin. "She gave me this."

"It's healing nicely," she said dismissively as she put away her wand. "Will that be all, then?"

"Will that be all?" he repeated incredulously. "Hermione, what the hell did I just walk in on?"

"Shhh," she hissed again. "Not here, Harry, if you please," she said. She tried to think. "There's a pub across the street. Let's duck in there." Harry shook his head in disbelief but followed her.

A short while later, they were settled into a booth at the back of the pub, each with a beer in front of them. They ignored their drinks, staring at one another expectantly.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well?" he replied.

She narrowed her eyes. "Does this work for you, in the Auror office?"

"Does what work?"

"Parroting back whatever your suspect says?"

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"What were you doing in Regent's Park?" she asked. "Were you following me?"

He opened his eyes. "Yes, as a matter of fact." Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Hermione, none of your friends have seen you in weeks, outside of work. As it is, I stopped by your office today to invite you out to drinks with me and the boys tonight, and your assistant said you never returned from lunch." He paused and took a sip from his beer. "I stopped by your flat and found it empty, so I apparated to your parents' practice to see if they had seen you. Imagine my surprise when they told me you've been holed up with your 'boyfriend' for weeks now."

Hermione bit her lip. Had her parents inadvertently outed his secret?

"I went out back to use their tool shed to apparate home when I saw you emerge from it," he went on. "So I followed you, figuring I'd catch a glimpse of you and him together." Harry raised his brows. "Imagine my shock when I saw you sneak into the park, glamor yourself, and then spy on a conversation between Professor Sinistra and a dead man."

Ah. Perhaps not, then. Hermione folded her hands and looked down at her nails, waiting. Unfortunately, Harry had become adept at waiting as well. Hermione sighed and looked up at him.

"What did I walk in on, Hermione?" he asked quietly. "What were you doing in the park? How long have you known he was alive?"

Hermione sighed again. She did not want to answer. She had sworn to him she would not reveal his secret. Yet… she knew Harry would never let it go if she did not. Maybe if she framed the narrative, he would leave him in peace. Decided it was easier to answer the latter, rather than the former, she said, "Eight months."

"Eight months?"

Hermione nodded and then shook her head. "No. I suspected for eight months," she replied. "I've only known for about five, five and a half."

Harry's mouth hung open. If it all was not so terrible, she might have told him to close it, lest he catches flies. But it was, and she didn't.

"Explain," he commanded. "Now."

Hermione flexed her jaw. "I first saw him in September," she began. "Do you remember when my mother took me to see Les Miserables for my birthday?" He did not, of course, so she continued. "I saw someone who looked like him in the theatre, but I didn't know it was him until much later." Bowing her head, she told him a diluted version of the tale – how they kept running into one another and started spending time together. She left out Daphne and her family; she felt it was not for her to tell Harry that Daphne had saved Severus' life or the Prince family connection. When she finished, Harry stared at her, flabbergasted. He opened his mouth to speak, and then seemed to think better of it.

His silence made her uncomfortable. "Say something," she demanded.

"I don't know what to say," he replied. "I still can't believe he's alive." He scratched his chin. "Have you really been dating the greasy git for the past three months?"

Hermione recoiled. "He's not a greasy git, Harry, and I'll thank you for never using that term in my presence again if you wish to hang onto all of your dangling bits." She sipped her drink. "And it's closer to four."

A smile played at the corner of his lips. "You know, he's our parents' age."

"No," she corrected automatically. "He's your parents' age. My parents did not marry straight out of school and immediately start having babies. They waited until they finished dental school and got their practice off the ground."

"Touché," Harry replied. Harry was full-on grinning now. "You realize I'm just winding you up, don't you?"

She did now. She frowned, and Harry reached across the table to take her hand in his.

"Listen," he said, squeezing it. "You're my best friend. I love you, no matter who you decide to date. However, there is a much bigger issue at play here – you know that yeah? If I found out, others will too."

Hermione pursed her lips. He was right, of course. She nodded, and then he voiced what she had been thinking, but dared not say aloud.

"Either Severus Snape has to come out of his self-imposed 'death,' or leave England. He simply won't be able to carry on as is."

Hermione and Harry parted company a short while later. He had practically begged her to join him, Ron, George, and Neville for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, but she cried off, stating the need to gather her thoughts.

She headed straight home from the pub, where she quickly became overwhelmed by the silence of her apartment.

It was funny, she thought as she laid back on her sofa, tucked under her favorite blanket. Quiet had never bothered her before; in fact, she used to relish in it. Six years of boarding school, a year on the run in a small tent, another year of boarding school, followed by a year of sharing 12 Grimmauld Place with Harry, Ron, and Neville had left her desperate for a place of her own. When she found the flat in Knightsbridge, she had jumped on it, despite the boys' protests. She had kept it when her parents returned to the continent, citing her continued need to have her own space. It was only in the past few months when she had begun to share the little flat part-time with Severus that she had begun to realize that she enjoyed sharing it with someone else.

Severus. Her heart lurched. What was she going to do about him?

She was not proud of the fact that she had opted to spy on him. She knew better. But… he had been avoiding her for days, and if she interpreted his conversation with Professor Sinistra correctly, he was looking for a way out of their relationship. Even though, by his own admission, being with her made him happy. Why would someone willingly give up a relationship with someone who made them happy?

It was not as if they lacked the support of their respective families. Her parents were truly fond of him and had readily accepted him into their lives. Likewise, his mother seemed eager to meet her in person, and Daphne had vocalized support from the remnants of the Prince family. After speaking with Harry, she knew her friends would come around as well – after the initial shock of his return wore off.

Hermione sighed. The time had finally come. They needed to have the talk. She had managed to put it off until now, but between the invitation to Daphne's wedding and Harry's subsequent discovery, it seemed that it could no longer wait.

That terrified her.

There was always that point in a relationship when decisions needed to be made about its permanence. The period was always different – with Ron, it had taken two years, while her successive short-lived relationships with Terry Boot, Diego Caplan and a Muggle named Ashton Peters had taken seven months, five months and three and a half weeks, respectively. Usually, these conversations occurred when Hermione realized that she wanted certain things out of her life, and if her partner's plans did not align with hers, then she preferred to be on her own. She had not yet reached that point with him. She desperately wanted him in her life, no matter how he chose to fit into it.

Fate, however, had seen fit to take the timetable out of her hands. As Hermione began to succumb to sleep, she resigned herself that they would speak the next day.

In the weeks since Severus began joining the Granger's on Friday evenings, he and Hermione had fallen into a comfortable routine for their day. They would each head to work – she at the Ministry, he at the local library where he would painstakingly type out his manuscript – and then meet at her flat at half-past five, before apparating to her parents' home together at six.

This week, half-past five came and went, with nary a sign from him. If Hermione had not spotted him the previous day in full health, she would have been exceedingly worried about his welfare. Instead, she was aggravated. With the clock ticking toward five-fifty, she contemplated her next move. Should she head to her parents alone, or go to his place and demand – something. An explanation, at the very least.

It took her seconds to rule out the latter. She wanted, needed, to speak with him, but she still had her dignity. He could wait until after she enjoyed a nice dinner with her parents. Even if they would inevitably spend half the evening asking her where he was.

At six on the dot, she threw on her jacket and Gryffindor scarf and gave Crookshanks a quick pat on the head before apparating to her parent's backyard garden. It was empty, and Hermione quickly deduced that her mother must have talked her father out of barbecuing this week for more standard British cuisine. Hermione hoped it meant there would be a roast with potatoes; she was very much in the mood for comfort food.

She slid open the kitchen door and stepped into the house. The kitchen was empty, and the stove and oven were off. No roast, then, Hermione thought, with just the smallest trace of disappointment. She removed her jacket and scarf, folding them over one of the kitchen chairs before heading into the living room. It was dark and empty as well. How odd. Reflexively, she reached for her wand.

"Mum? Dad?" she called out, flipping her finger against the light switch. "Anyone home?"

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

Hermione would have jumped out of her skin, had it been anatomically possible. "Holy shit, Severus!" she cursed, clutching her hand over her heart. She breathed deeply, trying to still her erratic heartbeat. "What are you doing here?"

He had been sitting in her father's favorite recliner but had gotten to his feet when she turned on the light. As he moved closer, she could see he looked hurt by her question. "It's Friday evening," he said carefully. "Where else would I be?"

Hermione sank onto the sofa. "I haven't seen or heard from you in nearly a week," she murmured. "When you didn't show at my flat, I figured you were not coming."

"My apologies," he replied. "I finished work early and decided to walk here from the library. The weather was mild for the first time this week." He took a step closer to her, and then paused, seeming unsure of himself. "I should have rung you, I know, but I had forgotten my mobile at my flat."

"You could have sent a Patronus."

He smiled wryly. "I tried. I seemed to have some difficulty producing one."

She was surprised to hear it. She had never known Severus to have difficulty doing anything magical. "Why were you sitting in the dark? Where are my parents?"

"I had sufficient light from outside," he said with a shrug. "Your parents went to fetch dinner. The takeaway driver got stuck in traffic."

Hermione nodded. Her heartbeat had returned to normal. She lowered her hands and tucked her wand away, back into her pocket. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. "When did they leave?"

"A few minutes before you walked in. They expect to be back within the twenty minutes."

Hermione opened her eyes and glanced at the clock over the mantle. It was ten past six. They probably had about ten minutes. She patted the spot beside her on the sofa. "Sit, Severus, please."

He sat down heavily beside her. Instinctively, she reached for him, pulling him closer to her as she rested her head against his shoulder. She kissed his neck tenderly. "I missed you."

He rearranged himself so he could place his arms around her. "I missed you, too," he said, gently kissing her head. "Hermione, I'm sorry I disappeared on you like that. I've never been very good at handling difficult situations, and I thought it best to retreat into myself, rather than saddle you with my unpleasant mood."

"I can handle your unpleasant moods," she mumbled. "I spent six years building up a tolerance to them."

He chuckled. "As my student, yes, and at the time, I felt no compunction in unleashing them upon you and your unruly classmates." He leaned back slightly and brushed away her hair, looking into her eyes. "Things are different now. You are my … girlfriend. Lover? Paramour? I am not sure which word fits best. Regardless, I was afraid that I might frighten you off."

"You needn't be frightened. I don't scare easily."

"I know Hermione," he agreed. "You are the bravest witch I know, in addition to the smartest. More than I deserve."

She frowned. "I wish you wouldn't say that, Severus. Surely you know -," she paused. Did she dare? Yes, her mind insisted. Now was the time. She drew the fingers of her right hand up, and lightly traced them across his cheek. "I'm in love with you, Severus. I love you. I want you. Toxic moods and all."

His eyes widened. "I -," he started, and stopped, taking a deep breath. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He forced a wry smile. "I've been informed, quite recently, that I'm a lot."

"Some have said the same of me," she replied easily. "But to answer your question, yes. I am sure. I know we have not been together for that long, but from the moment you reappeared in my life, I was drawn to you. When we are not together, I think about you constantly. I crave your touch, your kisses, your body, your conversation, your dry sense of humor and your sharp wit." She ran her fingers over his lips, before moving down his chin and along his neck before resting over his heart. "I love you," she repeated.

He stared at her. "Hermione," he breathed. "I -,"

Outside, the lights lining the front path illuminated. Hermione could hear her mother laughing at something her father had said. Hermione placed a finger over his lips.

"My parents are back," she said. She removed her finger and brushed her lips gently across his. "We'll continue this later?" she asked. He nodded his assent, and she rose to her feet to greet her parents.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Her parents were their usual talkative, lively selves – her mother, especially - but Severus was quiet and withdrawn, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Her father had had to ask him three times to pass the potatoes before getting a reaction from him.

"Is Severus alright?" Her mother asked her later, as they washed the dinner dishes and prepared dessert. "He seems sort of…off… this evening."

Hermione was unsure of how to respond. She could not tell her mother about everything that had happened over the past week – not now, when he was just two rooms away, sipping brandy with her father. Instead, she said, "He's preoccupied. His book is due to the publisher next week."

Her mother clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Poor dear," she said, with a small shake of her head. "That must be nerve-wracking." Her mum set down the tea towel she had been using to dry the good china. "You know, I thought of writing once, but the anxiety of sending the manuscript around simply did me in."

After pudding – a glorious Victoria sponge with fresh strawberries - she and Severus bundled up and headed outside. "My place?" she asked. He nodded. She wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her close, Side-Along apparating her to her flat.

Crookshanks was waiting for her impatiently. "I better feed him," she said, taking a reluctant step back. He nodded again, wordlessly withdrawing from her. She went into the kitchen and set about preparing the cat's dinner. She also brewed a pot of tea; she did not want any, but perhaps he did.

She returned to the living room to see him still standing by the door. She raised her brows at him curiously. "Won't you come in, Professor Snape?" she asked. She kept her tone light and teasing, but it was a struggle. He looked ready to bolt and seemed to wince at her rebuke.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said. He removed his coat and sat down on the couch. She set the tea set on the table and joined him.

"Tea?" she asked.

"Yes, please."

She prepared two cups, sliding his closer to him. He thanked her but made no move to drink. Sighing, she forced herself to take a sip of her cup. She needed him to speak first.

After a few moments of silence, he obliged. "Hermione," he began. "I'm not sure where to begin. I have been in shockingly few relationships. None was serious – there was one that lingered for a few years, but there was no real emotion behind it. She needed me so she would not be alone… I needed her to help me forget my past."

Lily, she thought. Always.

As if reading her thoughts, he looked at her. "Did Potter show you the memories?"

"No," she said with an emphatic shake of her head. "He told us – Ron and I – about them, but we never viewed them. We felt it would be an invasion of privacy." Hermione thought it was, anyway. Ron would have happily done so and brought along popcorn, had she not put a stop to it.

He nodded. "It would have been fine if you had," he said. "I gave Potter what he needed to understand. Nothing more."

Nothing more. Two little words that revealed nothing, and yet, she knew. His love for Lily had not been one-sided – not always. At some point, she had loved him back. That was why he clung to her memory, why he could not let her go.

"Severus,"

"Please, let me finish," he said, reaching for her hands. "I care for you deeply, Hermione. Everything you said to me earlier, it is an echo of how I feel for you. I think about you. I crave you. I want you." He reached squeezed her hands. "I'm scared to lose you."

"You won't-,"

"I've destroyed every good thing that has ever come into my life, Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "Look how I pushed you away this week -,"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" he exclaimed. "Hermione, I am a cruel, jealous, petty man."

"You're not."

"I am," he insisted. "I am trying to restart my life, and live, Hermione, but I'm still me. Tigers do not change their stripes. Snakes may shed their skin, but they are still the same creature they always have been, underneath."

He was trying to lose her in metaphors. "I want to be with you, Severus," she said quietly. "I am not young, or stupid. I know we will fight spectacularly at times – I do not care. It's normal."

"I cannot give you a normal life."

"What is normal?" she replied. He glared at her. She glared right back.

"Hermione."

"Severus."

He sighed. "I'm old."

She laughed. "You are ridiculous. You're forty-four."

"I'm unemployed."

"You're writing a series of books."

"They could fail."

"They could," she agreed. "They won't, though." She moved closer to him, closing the gap between them. "Severus, you are brilliant. Your books will be brilliant. Employment is a temporary state, anyway. I could lose my job tomorrow."

He snorted. "Unlikely."

"You never know," she said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. The point is, for better or worse, I would stick by you. Besides…" she trailed off.

"Yes?"

She exhaled deeply. "If you would come out of hiding, I'm sure you would not remain 'unemployed' for long. You are a h-," she wanted to say 'hero,' but knew he hated hearing it. "A renowned expert in Potions and the Dark Arts. People would fight to have you."

"Your friends would abandon you for being with me."

She lifted her brow. "I don't believe that for a second, and if I'm wrong, well, then they weren't very good friends, to begin with."

He studied her. "Do you want children?"

"This minute? No."

"Hermione."

"Yes, eventually," she admitted. "Why are you asking me? Are you sterile?"

He seemed surprised by her question. "No. At least, I don't think so."

"Then why is this an issue?"

"They'd be tarnished by my name."

"Then they'll take my name. You can have it as well if you wish. Dad never got to have a son. I'm sure he'd be pleased to share our name with you."

"Hermione."

"Or you could take the name Prince, officially. It's yours by right, anyway."

He did not answer, and she sighed again. "Children are not a deal-breaker for me, Severus. Your reputation is not, either. The only thing that is, is your stubborn insistence on hiding forever. That, I could not live with. Everything else is negotiable." She gripped his hands tighter. "Please, Severus. Please come out of hiding. I want to be with you. Your family wants to be with you."

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa cushions. This time, he was quiet for so long, she was tempted to check his breathing. Finally, he exhaled.

"Okay, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "You win. On Monday, I will visit the Ministry and reveal to Minister Shacklebolt that Severus Snape is alive."

For the second weekend in a row, Hermione and Severus spent their days in tense silence. She could hardly bear it but forced herself to push through. It is almost over, she thought. He will come out of hiding, and then they could go public. No more secrets.

On Sunday afternoon, they made a plan. Hermione sent her Patronus to Kingsley, requesting a meeting for eight Monday morning, in her office. She left it vague but emphasized its importance. Kingsley's lynx returned promptly, promising he would be there. They would meet the minister together. Hermione had suggested including Daphne, or even her father, as well, but Severus thought it unnecessary. Uncharacteristically, she did not argue.

Hermione woke early on Monday morning. Severus was not in bed beside her, but that did not surprise her. He was an early riser, even by her standards. She went into the kitchen, expecting him to be there. He was not. Instead, she found a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast beside a pot of French press coffee under a stasis charm.

Next to the pot was a note in his spiky hand.

Hermione,

I can't. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me.

~ S.