I think we need a flashback, don't you? Just an FYI… the song lyrics can apply to either Hermione or Severus. Feel free to message me if you'd like titles or anything else. A few have asked how long this will go for… not 100 chapters, I'm afraid (although I am flattered)… It depends on how the editing of the rest goes, but let's say 20 for now.

Chapter 12

All the stars keep turning

Wheeling all night long

I wish you'd turn and

Hear my song.

Paul Kelly

Severus sat awkwardly in his reading chair as he eyed the fidgeting couple on the couch. Lavender had taken Hermione upstairs to talk and do Merlin knew what else, and Helen and Richard had decided to stay until the Healer finished the examination. Potter had left not long after the Weasleys, something that Severus was thankful for; it was unnerving to think that he might have to become used to visits from the boy, but Harry's nervousness meant that there didn't need to be much talking. It was doable, for the moment.

Again he asked himself why he was sitting here in this house – his house – with his wife. It was ludicrous. He did not belong here, in this polished sitting room… He should have let her see his real home in Cokeworth. Hermione would've run screaming in the opposite direction. With a silent sneer, he looked into the fire, thinking that for once Minerva had been right. What was he thinking? What was she thinking? They were playing house like children, except he was the adult and she the young, lovely witch who could do so much better.

Startled at where his mind had ended up, Severus frowned. She could do better? That implied that he was invested in this somehow – he wasn't.

At least, he didn't think that he was…

"Severus?"

He turned his attention to Richard, who was sipping on a cup of black tea. Helen sat rigidly on the couch though she had pushed her body up against one end instead of sitting beside her husband. Curious, indeed.

"I haven't… ah…" Richard glanced at Helen's stony face and shrugged before continuing in a firmer voice, "I haven't thanked you for everything that you've done. Not just for giving Hermione all of this." He gestured around the room with a faint approving smile. "But for being there for her when she was ill. You didn't have to; my understanding is that the two of you had nothing that even remotely resembled an actual marriage…"

"No," Severus confirmed, unable to keep a slight curtness from his tone. "You are already aware that the entire thing was to keep your daughter safe."

"For which we are, of course, grateful," his father in law replied. Helen managed a small nod at this, though she kept quiet. Richard studied the younger wizard for a moment, and Severus was reminded of his trial in the days not long after the ending of the war – the elderly wizards had looked at him in much the same way.

Not knowing what to say, he decided to incline his head, acknowledging the comment.

Unperturbed, Richard said gruffly, "And what you're doing now… You're giving our girl a home. Even if you both go your separate ways at some point, which I imagine will be the case, you've done a lot for her. Thank you."

The words stung. He wasn't sure exactly why that was so, but Severus knew it was only the beginning. Now that the war was over, everyone would assume that Hermione would divorce him quietly, go back to living the life she should have led had it not been for Riddle and his threats.

More fool me, he mused bitterly. He'd worked out that he felt something for the witch upstairs, though he had kept it tightly reined for this exact reason.

"You will, won't you?" Helen cut into his thoughts with an apprehensive stare. "You will go your separate ways?"

Severus sighed, fed up with the evening. He was half of a mind to simply return to the castle if this was what every night would bring him. Weary from both a long day at work and an evening of less than desirable company, he muttered, "When your daughter wishes it, it will be done."

"And what about you?" Richard leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees. His hair was curly and bushy, though the man kept it shorter than Severus' own black locks. There was a perceptive look in his eyes that the wizard did not appreciate, all the more so because he suspected that Richard understood more than he was letting on.

Severus rolled his shoulders. "What about me?"

"What about your wishes?"

"Oh for god's sake," Helen hissed at her husband. "It doesn't bloody matter. We need her home, Richard! She can't – she can't stay here! Look at the place! It's falling apart!" Hermione's mother wrung her hands and shook her head. "This isn't what we wanted for her!"

"Give it a rest, Helen," Richard said tiredly. "She's only just got out of hospital. If this is where she wants to be, then leave her be! You heard what Healer Brown said – Hermione needs time to adjust. And when she's had it, she'll come back. In the meantime, stop being so bloody overprotective!"

"And you should stop being so simple minded, Richard!" Helen scolded. "That's our daughter upstairs! Or do you not remember having her? How could you let her stay here? How could you accept for her to live with this man?" She pointed an accusing finger at Severus. "He's more than twice her age! He never has a kind word to spare for anyone. He'd break her in one day! It's positively revolting!"

"Helen!" Richard cried but Severus had had enough of observing the couple. Their voices had grown louder and louder, and this was his home. Aware that his protective, territorial instincts had started this mess in the first place, he still couldn't stop himself from standing abruptly.

"Desist," he snarled, glowering at them as if they were bickering third years. "This, no matter what you may think of it, Mrs. Granger, is my home, even if it is a temporary one. Your presence is welcome here because of my wife, but your insults, quite frankly, are not. Stop your incessant complaining, for goodness' sake, and leave if I bother you so much. If you wish to stay, do me a favour and mind your tongue."

Without another word, he nodded to a shame faced Richard and stalked up the stairs. A wave of his wand had the door to the bathroom sealed shut, and he spent almost an hour underneath the hot spray of the shower, trying to wash an overall sense of hopelessness down the drain.

…

Severus stayed in the second bedroom for the rest of the evening, summoning Tink to bring him a plate of some of Molly's cooking that the older woman had left. He ate the roast chicken absentmindedly, because though he would more than likely have a headache from it for the coming weekend, he had tucked the majority of his feelings behind his mental walls. It wasn't due to disinterest or even disappointment; Severus was just tired.

The fork halted on its way back from his mouth when there was a soft knock on the door. Looking down at his cotton pyjama pants and matching navy shirt that he'd had Tink set out after the disaster of the night before, Severus swallowed the mouthful quickly.

"Enter," he grunted, returning to his meal as Hermione opened the door and slid into the room. She stood on the threshold for a long while, watching while he ate instead of looking at her, but eventually his wife made her way into the room.

"May I sit?" she asked softly, gesturing to the bed. There were no chairs and he was currently perched cross legged near the head. Severus nodded and set the plate aside when the mattress sunk at the other end of the bed. He stared at the subtle patterns on the brown quilt cover, tracing a few with his fingers.

"I'm sorry," Hermione mumbled into the air, her voice thin. "I… I heard what mum said. She shouldn't have; I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"It wasn't your doing," he said gruffly. "Don't apologise for something that you had no hand in."

"Still…"

"It doesn't matter." His dismissal came out like sounding like a reprimand, but he was too tired to explain further.

"It does," she protested quietly. "She had no right to speak to you like that. None at all. I've had words with her; it won't happen again, I assure you."

Hermione reached towards him hesitantly and he flinched when her hands came into contact with his. She took both of his larger hands and held them within her smaller grasp. He raised his head and grimaced when he took in her wide eyes that were swimming with tears along with her face that was twisted into an apologetic expression. It was enough to make him exhale and shake his head.

"Let's not, wife," said Severus gently, putting the matter to rest. "I do not wish to waste time speaking of it."

Her shoulders slumped but she smiled nonetheless. "If that's what you want."

The old Hermione would've pursued it relentlessly until he was forced to accept her apology, though he was surprised that for once he was not bemoaning the spitfire that she had once been. He'd always found it attractive, endearing almost, despite how incredibly annoying it could sometimes be. But this gentle understanding, this almost feminine way of knowing when to let a subject go for the meantime… He liked it; very much.

"Everyone's gone," she remarked. "I thought you might like to come downstairs and have some tea? Unless you're too tired, that is."

"I'm not," he returned simply. "I have the weekend to recover from my house being invaded by a hoard of Weasleys."

She giggled and turned her head away, giving him a glimpse of her blushing cheeks. "Sorry for that, too. No one's coming tomorrow, at least… unless you have plans?"

Severus usually preferred to complete his marking on Saturdays, but due to a rare stroke of luck, there was only one stack of essays awaiting his attention. He was already of a mind to have her read through the NEWT level pieces he'd shoved into the drawer of the bedside table, if only to gage whether any of her academic memories had tampered off as well. It didn't seem so, but he was determined to be sure.

"I have nothing organised," he said slowly. "I'll need to be around the house for the morning, when my office at the castle is open to the students, just in case any of them get it into their heads that they need me. But other than that, no."

"Well, good," Hermione smiled. "I'm glad."

He raised an eyebrow and she met his gaze with an easy tilt of her head, unfazed by the way he automatically searched for signs that she didn't mean it. When he could recognise the truth in her tone, Severus retreated behind a curtain of hair. "Right."

"So… would you like to come downstairs?" It was an interesting way to pose the question. And strangely enough, it resonated with him; would he like to have tea with her tonight? Would he like to have a quiet life here with her, for as long as it suited them?

"Yes," he answered suddenly, surprised at the fact that it was true. "I would like that." And that was that. He liked this, he recognised. Not the arguments of their guests, or the uncertainty that was attached to it – none of that, of course. But this simple, calm life?

It was new, and perhaps it would not last, but he decided in that moment that yes; he did like it. And that could be enough.

For the time being.

…

"And what about Lavender?"

She was curled up in her reading chair, her hair a riot of curls that rested on her shoulders. It looked golden in the firelight, but each time she tossed it, there was a multitude of chestnut, autumn colours that left him enthralled more than once. Two cups of tea sat cold and forgotten on one of the bookshelves.

"I assume she told you herself."

"Oh, she did. But I like to hear these things from you," Hermione admitted, her cheeks colouring.

Severus allowed a small grin to escape his usual blank façade. "You're just using me to get ahead on all of the gossip."

Hermione swatted a hand in his direction. "In my defence," she sniffed, "it's been three years."

"Yes," he agreed pensively, turning away from her to look into the fire. "It has." And yet now that it had all passed as time was wont to do, he could barely remember what it felt like to sit beside her at the hospital, weathering the storms that were her episodes. It beggared belief that she was actually here now, but she was. He was a married man again, and living with his wife.

"It's astounding," he said quietly. "Three years, and yet here we are." It was as close as he would come to confessing that he was still trying to wrap his mind around it all.

Hermione gave a little titter of amusement and he looked upon her fondly, truly enjoying this small moment of peace. She returned his gaze with a tilt of her head and a gentle, welcoming smile. "I'm glad we are. Here, I mean."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

Severus let out a breath then shook his head while wiping a hand over his mouth. "This all feels so… quick. Last week you were…" He shrugged, unable to articulate it. "And now you're here and having dinner parties and drinking tea in this sitting room that looks really bloody lovely, by the way."

"Oh, do you think so!" she breathed, grinning widely. "Your elf did well. He's so… chipper."

"Indeed," Severus drawled, leaning back in the chair as he stretched his legs out. "Back to the point at hand…"

"Lavender?"

"Your cheek will not be tolerated, Miss Granger," he snarled, a perfect imitation of her old Professor. Her titters grew into giggles, which turned into a feminine laugh that should have made him cringe but instead left him captivated. In the first year of their marriage, he'd often thought of her as a girl trying to play the part of a woman; all of those years in hospital had made him blind to any other changes, and yet here she sat: a woman indeed.

When her laughter tapered off, leaving her with shining eyes, Hermione left him flummoxed by saying, "It has been quick. But all of this… this is what we should have had, Severus, don't you see? We never even had a chance. It wasn't fair then and it isn't fair now, but I'd like to… I'd like to… oh I don't know. We're friends, aren't we?"

He inclined his head with a soft smile. "We are."

"Then maybe we could," she stammered, breaking off to chew on her lip. "Maybe we could just give it a go. Living together - as friends," she added nervously.

"As friends?" Severus repeated, puzzled. "You wish to stay here with me? Like… like…" He searched for the word, "…like flat mates?" The term sounded strange coming from his lips.

Hermione nodded eagerly. "I do; I really do. Isn't this what you wanted? I still remember, you know – you said you wanted time away from the castle."

"Well, yes but-"

"And don't start about me doing things just for your benefit. In case you haven't noticed, it's not as if I have a very warm home environment to return to-"

"Then you're just-"

"And you're not a second choice!"

Severus shut his mouth and blinked owlishly. The surprise was clear on his face, and it was with interest that he watched Hermione's eyes soften until she was ducking her head shyly, casting glances at him from beneath her lashes.

"You always were my first choice, Severus," she mumbled, gazing into her lap. "Then and now."

He remembered when he had ranted and raved, when he had thrown objection after objection into Albus' twinkling face. It still irked him now, how the decision had been taken so forcibly out of his hands. And yet, it had never been as awful as he had expected it to be.

"I think…" he enunciated slowly, without any window dressing to his normal low purr of a voice, "…I think that perhaps… Perhaps you might have been, too; my first choice."

"Then or now?" The teasing note to the words was a relief and Severus smirked.

"Now - but then? Only with foresight."

"Scoundrel!" she hurled at him, turning away with a hand over her mouth to cover a smile. "Snarky, impossible man."

He made no real answer, preferring instead to arch one eyebrow and reheat his cup of tea. There was a warmth to the room now and he suspected that it had nothing to do with the roaring fire.

…

"So Lavender has only recently become a Healer?"

"You could say that. It's a combination of things. She volunteered, you know, around the clock when you were first brought in. Not for you specifically, but it soon ended up that way. And then she went into training when they passed that motion that the students of your year could graduate without taking the formal exams; no one was more shocked than I when she worked day and night to earn enough extra credit to take you on as a patient on her own within a year and a half. She was still an Apprentice; my understanding is that formal training lasts for two years."

"Well that's not very long…"

Severus set his teacup down. "You're forgetting the way that many of the old society view that ward, Hermione. The regulations for the Healers who specialise in such illnesses are not as stringent as those on the emergency response team, for example. A pity, but it is what it is."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione cried, throwing her hands in the air. Severus bit back a grin; seems that the spitfire hasn't completely left after all.

"Really – those old bloody codgers should just get off their high horses for a change. I wasn't crazy, for Merlin's sake and neither are Frank and Alice! B-somebody did it to me!"

"I know," said Severus, well aware of her avoiding using Bellatrix's name. "Kingsley is working on it, but it will take time. They did pay for your treatment, though, which is something."

"And so they should!" she fumed. "They ignored V- sorry, Riddle's return; it's only fair that they take some responsibility!"

He watched as she began to pace in front of the fireplace while wringing her hands as she continued to passionately list the faults of the Ministry. Her information may have been three years out of date, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

When she threw her body down into the chair again with an endearing scowl, he offered, "Surely you have more questions for me? Do you really only want to know about Lavender Brown and the Ministry's financial grants?"

The prompt caught her attention, as he had intended it to. "Of course!" she said brightly. "God, I've got questions coming out of my ears. No one would sit still long enough for me to ask anything tonight. I mean I understand, but… anyway." She tapped her finger on her chin as she thought of what she wanted to ask first. He was taken aback, but pleased, when she began with, "I want to know everything that happened to you, Severus. From the Final Battle until… well, now. I've put your hints together but it's not the same as hearing it from you. Won't you tell me?"

"You want to know about me?" he asked skeptically, crossing his arms. "Why?"

Her answer came in the form of a softly spoken, "Do I need a reason?"

He looked away. "I guess not."

It was irritating to speak of the time immediately following the end of the war. Sure that he would be dead before the culmination of it all, Severus had been a loose cannon for the Ministry; he hadn't planned on being around, and thus hadn't put any thought to defending himself. They weren't sure what to do with him; his defection at the very end had been obvious enough, but there were still all of those years of spying beforehand that left his status up in the air.

"So what did you do?" Hermione asked. "How did you clear your name? I mean, I assume that it's cleared. You're here, after all."

"Indeed," he said with a wry smirk. "I… ah…" Uncomfortable with the admission, he directed his gaze at the fire. "I shared some memories of mine with Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt." For a while he was lost as he looked into the flames, recalling the images that he'd selected, the feelings that were wrenched out of his mind and into vials, ready for others to watch and criticise. Laying himself bare had been one of the most awful things he had ever done… watching others rifle through such precious memories had made him almost blind with rage and frustration; only Occlumency had helped him sit through the closed trial without turning his wand on all of them. At first Hermione asked hesitantly if those memories would be able to be viewed by others, and he knew instantly that she herself was curious. He declined flatly, though not unkindly. They were not images that he wanted her to see. Not now.

"So who was there?"

"Shacklebolt, Potter, Arthur Weasley, Dumbledore's portrait, a handful of more notable members of the Wizengamot."

"And you didn't… they didn't…"

"No, no." He waved a vague, tired hand in the air. "I wasn't charged. I was questioned under Veritaserum for weeks to please the masses, but I wasn't formally charged."

"Then why did you even put yourself through it? Why let others see the memories? Why let them interrogate you, if you knew they wouldn't charge you?"

It was an innocent question, but it still made him scoff. Hermione drew back in her chair, chastened and stung; he ran a hand through his hair and offered her a rueful grimace.

"It was all lip service, Hermione. If I had declined, I would've found myself on trial with the rest of them. As it was, I had a closed trial, no shackles on my wrists, no bolting me down with chains in the chair for all of the public to see. I certainly appreciate Kingsley's efforts on my behalf, as he did a great deal for me then, but make no mistake – if I hadn't gone along with it, I would've been chucked in Azkaban and you would've been left on your own."

"Why did they even bother?" she asked in a small voice. "If you still had to prove your worth, why did they dress it up like that?"

"Do you really need to ask?" he said, tilting his head. "For you, of course."

"For me? I don't understand."

"No, I… I suppose you don't." Severus looked down at his hands that were busy with tugging on a few loose threads on the upholstered arm of the chair. He tried to encourage himself to speak plainly. "The first few weeks after the Battle were chaotic. The castle had to be rebuilt, the Ministry needed a good amount of purging before it was even remotely functional. Almost the entire Magical population had been affected; the bloody country was in a shambles. And you were… you were… You were ill," he muttered.

"Amidst all of the bedlam, you were in a hospital bed. There was no one to… and I wasn't welcome at the school then, so I…" Giving up, Severus stood and peered into her face, noting the cautious way she was hugging her knees to her chest. "They treated me well because of my association with you, and because I was the only one with never ending time on my hands to stay with you while you were ill. No one ever thought that… At no point did it seem like it was going to take years for you to…"

Hermione smiled at that but she scrutinised Severus' face all the same. He ran a hand through his hair and avoided her gaze. The windows showed a black night sky; the reflection of the married couple was clearly displayed.

"It's late," he announced quietly. "I think you should sleep." It was only half directed at her; he was almost asleep on his feet.

"I'm not tired," Hermione protested, but she broke off into a yawn at the end and he chuckled, too intent on watching her sheepish grin than to realise the tenderness with which he had welcomed her show of weariness.

"I beg to differ." He extended a hand. "Come."

Her pink lips parted and her delicate hand shook by the time she placed it in his. "Are you all right?" he asked, drawing her hand to his arm as he led her up the stairs. "Your visit with Lavender… is there any news?"

They reached her bedroom door.

"Oh, no, no, of course not," she answered, her eyes flitting between the door and his figure. Severus cocked his head and frowned.

"Are you sure? You seem…" He trailed off and scratched his chin. "Skittish."

"Oh, well, I… erm… It's a lot to learn," she offered, shrugging in an attempt to look nonchalant. He knew better; Severus took a step closer to her, intending to see her face better and to judge for himself, but Hermione sucked in a breath at his movement and stood with her eyes trained on his mouth. "It's a lot to take in," she whispered. "All of these years… It was so long for you, Severus. Three years, and you stayed with me."

"Yes," he sounded out, not knowing what else to say.

"How can I even begin to thank you?"

Insulted, he could only sneer and curl his lip. "I do not require your thanks. I didn't do it because-"

"Severus." Hermione held up a hand. "I know. Iknow. I know you – don't you remember?"

It felt like all of the breath rushed out of him at once. He reached out a hand to steady himself as the weight of her words hit home, and instantly it evoked the scene of her standing before him in the Headmaster's office, saying those exact same words. It was a perilous memory to summon – she was so close, far too near to not notice that he was reacting to the way she had formed the words.

Does she remember? Surely not… The words are a coincidence, that's all. She said that she didn't remember…

"You should sleep," he rasped before he turned and closed the distance between himself and his own door.

"Severus, please!" Hermione reached out and pulled his hand back, making him stumble. "Don't go to bed angry with me. You know I'm not just here because I'm grateful. I am grateful, but that's not… it's not…"

Seeing her fumble with her speech made him instantly regret attaching such significance to a random assortment of words. "It's fine," he said quickly. "It's fine. Don't think about it, wife. Go to bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nodded, frowning quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Really," she added when he scowled. "I was just thinking… I mean if you weren't…"

"Spit it out woman," he said bluntly, not liking how his heart jumped when she looked so delightfully shamefaced.

"You're right," Hermione agreed. "I shall. Come to lunch with me."

Taken aback, Severus barked out a laugh before he squinted at her. "What?" he demanded incredulously.

She set her shoulders and raised two thin dark eyebrows. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I… ah… well, yes, but…"

"It'd be nice," said Hermione, tugging on his arm. "Tomorrow. Let's go into the village and have lunch together. Merlin knows neither of us can put a good meal together and it'd be nice to get out, wouldn't it?"

He nodded, acknowledging the plain truth. "Yes, we are rather poor cooks aren't we?"

She grinned and nodded, then held her hands out and raised them one by one, like she was weighing ingredients. "So – yes or no?"

"To lunch?" he confirmed, slightly flustered.

Hermione added impishly, "And a walk. Maybe a coffee afterwards."

He was amazed. What on earth was this? The evening had been terrible, then rather nice, and now he was reduced to feeling like an awkward sod with spots on his face.

"That would be agreeable," he answered eventually, grunting a stiff farewell when she disappeared into her room with a breathy, "Goodnight then, Severus."

Good grief, he thought when he eased his body down on the bed. Just when he was beginning to understand just what their status was – friends, apparently – she went and threw such an invitation in his face. He scoffed into the air and turned on his side.

Had she really thought, even for a second, that he could resist?