One more chapter to go! Thank you all so very much. I'm just ecstatic that this has been received so well. This story has truly been the highlight of this hobby writing thus far. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Will you forgive me for the lack of review replies for the last chapter? So many of them are about Alan, and the waterworks will just turn back on if I re-read them. But each one brought me happiness, and I am grateful to you all. Thank you to everyone who thought of me, and felt comfortable enough with me to send me messages expressing your feelings… it was an honour to receive them.

On a lighter note, I wonder what Severus is planning…

Chapter 19

Tilt my hat at the sun
And the shadows they burn dark
Light me and I'll burn for you
And the love song never stops

INXS

With only a week and a half before the summer holidays were to begin, Severus found himself taking the stairs and heading towards the Hospital Wing. He still hadn't shown Hermione what he had been down on his knees doing in the courtyard, though he'd only kept the secret close to his chest since the previous weekend. Compared to all of the other secrets he'd kept, this was positively easy.

He burst through the double doors without bothering to knock. Poppy spun around in surprise from where she had been sitting at her desk near the end of the ward, and then the matronly nurse rolled her eyes.

"You always have known how to make an entrance," she remarked drily, setting aside a small stack of parchment.

He cocked an eyebrow and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. "When one is a teacher in a co-educational boarding school, one must have a variety of techniques in one's–"

"Arse!"

"– arsenal," he bit out with a snort. "You bloody harridan."

Poppy looked entirely too pleased with herself. Smugly, she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "So, are you going to finally tell me what occurred last weekend?"

"No."

"Oh!" Poppy tapped her wand a little too loudly on the desk, and a tea tray appeared a handful of seconds later. "You are an incorrigible boy. I don't know how on earth your wife puts up with you."

"Boy?" he echoed, grunting with feigned annoyance. "I haven't been a boy for thirty years!"

"You'll always be one to me, boyo," the nurse hurled back, a titter escaping her pursed lips when he grumbled. "Now, I assume that you have a reason for being here, as you haven't visited me just for the sake of it in weeks."

He shifted in his seat, feeling about as small as the spoon he was using to stir the sugar into his tea with. He wasn't about to admit that for once in his damn life, he'd been so busy shagging that he couldn't – oh, sod it. Why bloody not?

Severus looked up and arched a very smug eyebrow, causing Poppy to choke on her mouthful of tea. "Oh, Merlin," she exclaimed, rapping knuckles on her chest to overcome the coughing fit. "Have some pity on an old woman!"

"I don't think so," he drawled, crossing one leg over the other. "You did ask."

"I did not!"

"Oh, please," he dismissed, "that was tantamount to asking for a timetable!"

"To a Slytherin, perhaps," responded Poppy, now looking red-faced, albeit disturbingly satisfied. "Anyway, I'm glad of it. It's about time."

Severus scowled and muttered, "It's also none of your business."

"You mentioned it first!"

"I most certainly did not!"

"Pish. Now tell me what happened last weekend," the nurse demanded bluntly, ignoring his groan. "You rushed off, and Lavender sent her ruddy Patronus to Healer Anthrop back at the hospital, thinking that she'd need to bring Hermione in after your wife became concerned about your whereabouts! You weren't jealous, surely?"

"Absolutely not," snarled Severus, straightening his cuffs. "There was something that I wished to do, and I did not wish to delay doing it." Never mind that he hadn't even shown Hermione what he'd done, but Poppy didn't need to know that.

"And it was…?"

"None of your business!"

"I see." She adjusted her cap. "Well, that's your own business. At least give me the gossip, then."

"Harpy," he named her, smirking as she tittered and nodded. "Fine." At this, Poppy let loose with a beam from ear to ear and happily went on drinking her tea. Severus took a moment to arrange the words then began with, "The Weasley boy wishes to atone."

"Oho! Does he now?" Poppy crowed, pushing a biscuit towards him. "By Merlin, it took him long enough."

"Mmm." Severus was inclined to agree; his wife shared the sentiment. "He confessed that he had not visited much, as well as how badly he botched the marriage to Ms. Brown."

Poppy rubbed her hands together and barked out a vicious sounding laugh. "That's quite the understatement."

"Indeed. His reasoning as to why he had been such a fool since our marriage was, of course, his undying love for Hermione." Severus grimaced and shrugged. "Hermione disagreed, and said that it was his own shortcomings; that surely he could not love her as he professed to, when he blatantly disregarded something that made her happy."

"Ahh…" Poppy sighed, looking proud. "Did she mention to Ronald exactly what it was that made her happy? Then and now?"

"I have been led to believe that I am the reason for her happiness," Severus answered stiffly, still unable to process that she had always cared for him so. And yet she had said it – from the moment he'd told her of his love for her, said it so simply as they sat on the couch on the weekend, Hermione had declared that she had loved him with all of her heart for far longer than he'd ever deemed possible. Even now the admission floored him – he barely even knew what to do with such admiration, such affection, though he was determined to ensure that he could receive her love just as naturally as she did his.

"And what did the boy have to say about that?"

"I didn't ask," Severus said matter-of-factly. "I do not wish to know; Hermione did not deem it important, and so it isn't. Regardless, she informed him that if he does not… 'up his game', then their friendship will be ended."

"About time!" Poppy interjected with a brisk nod. "His sense of entitlement has always been concerning."

"It has," he said slowly, aware that his friend had just put a name to exactly why Severus had been bothered by the youngest Weasley male since his marriage. "Still, she offered to forgive him for the lack of visits, but advised that it would never be as it was before the Marriage Law; she was too offended by his behaviour with Ms. Brown to accept him back into the immediate fold, so to speak."

"Have you told Lavender that? She'd appreciate it, I'm sure."

"Of course not!" Severus exclaimed. "Christ, it is enough of an annoyance to repeat it now. I don't want to go over it again."

"All right, I'll be the one to tell her."

He nodded and grinned – Poppy always did read between the lines. "Good. And since then, I've received an interesting missive."

She leant forward and raised her eyebrows; her wrinkled forehead stood out on her face that was usually still so plump and smooth for her age, and Severus wondered just how long he'd have her by his side. A long while, if her tenaciousness was anything to go by.

"Let's see it then."

Having prepared for the meeting, he took out the small letter that had arrived the previous evening. Hermione had taken one look at it and nodded approvingly, and he handed it over, wondering what the nurse would think of it.

Poppy huffed. "That's it? 'Professor Snape, I apologise.' How creative."

"Apparently that's how to tell that he is sincere," Severus said, spreading his hands with a smirk. "Hermione tells me that he would have sprouted off a flowery worded apology if he was only following her orders."

"That sounds about right," Poppy mused, chuckling as she refolded the letter. "I seem to remember another young boy being quite blunt at the best of times." A wave of her hand send it back into his waiting palm.

He sneered and rose to his feet. "I don't know what you're going on about, old woman. And one more thing…" There was one more gift left to organise for Hermione, and Severus fixed his gaze to the wall instead of looking into Poppy's eyes, knowing full well her penchant for blubbering. "I'd like to purchase the cottage from you… if you'd allow it. For… for us to live in. Permanently."

He was not surprised when instead of answering, Poppy leapt out of her chair and came rushing around the desk before throwing her arms around him, her movements jerky; neither of them were particularly used to expressing themselves physically.

"Oh, Severus," she exclaimed quietly, pulling back to smile at him with watery eyes. She adjusted his collar and he frowned down at her, though one side of his mouth tilted up. The fondness he felt for the much older witch seemed to paint itself onto his face without his permission, and Poppy sniffed loudly.

"Severus," she repeated, patting his chest. "You're a good man, you know."

He scoffed, but stayed silent.

"You are!" Poppy said. "And that's all there is to it. But I won't take your money."

Disappointment coursed through him, but he remained where he was, fighting the urge to storm out. "I understand –"

"No you don't, you big oaf." She swatted at him with a warm laugh. "It's yours, my boy. I'm too old to have anything to do with it, and it cost next to nothing when I bought it all of those years ago. Make me happy and keep it, Severus. And when the time comes, I'll leave it to the both of you." Poppy rubbed at her eyes.

What could he say? Severus stared at her, dumbfounded, and then did the only thing he could think of. Unwilling to speak incase his voice broke, he instead opened his arms and drew her into an embrace, resting his cheek on her hair as she alternated between sniffing and laughing into his black woolen chest.

…

On the Friday evening after his discussion with Poppy, he realised that still, there was something else.

He wanted to do something more… something… formal.

Severus slowed his steps and stopped at the beginning of the lane. He couldn't quite pinpoint why he had such a desire to please her; they were already married, after all.

Ah. And there lies the problem.

They were already married.

He scuffed his boot on the ground and blew out a long breath. If he had found himself in love with a woman in the past, he would have hastened to wed her – of course he would. It was a natural inclination, considering his lack of anything pleasant for his own whilst growing up. Merlin, he enjoyed his life so much now that he couldn't even picture living alone anymore.

So what am I to do?

It would be folly to propose – there was already a ring on her finger! And mine, he amended, lifting his left hand as he squinted at the silver band.

They hadn't had a wedding, true, but there was no one who didn't know that Hermione Snape was his wife. It would be pointless to do it again.

Although…

Severus' head snapped up. His smirk came slowly, but by the time he began walking again, he was nodding to himself and storing his new plans safely in the very depths of his mind. He hadn't Occluded for years; it seemed that he finally had a good enough reason.

When he met Hermione in the sitting room, his features were open and friendly. Thankfully, his wife missed the curious glint to his eyes that sparked when he managed to scrawl a quick letter and have it out the window with Pippin while she was heating leftovers.

"Did you send a letter?" Hermione asked when she returned, two steaming plates following in the air behind her. "I heard Pippin –"

"No," he said quickly, glancing up at her as he closed his book. "I sent him to fetch Mog a snack."

"Oh, god, you didn't," she groaned, her shoulders sagging. "Crooks already brought in a rat the size of one of your boots." The orange cat in the corner meowed and Severus examined his foot. Hermione's familiar had cleared quarantine a fortnight ago; Helen and Richard had dropped him off only the day before. Instead of remarking on the squashed, pinched face of the cat, he scowled at his foot.

"My feet are not overly large," he grumbled.

When she let out a tinkling laugh, Severus congratulated himself on a well-executed distraction.

...

Their bodies were stretched out on the bed. Two pairs of legs were intertwined, and Severus lowered his nose to her hair for what must have been the thousandth time. He breathed her in – nay, he drank in the scent of her hair, the curls now wild and frizzy from their sweat inducing sex.

Hermione wriggled in his arms and gave a tiny gurgle of laughter when he growled, his hands clamping down on her offending backside that seemed so determined to catch his attention. She settled with a soft sigh, and her hands came up to hold onto the arm that was now loosely draped around her waist.

"I love you," she mumbled, the newness of the phrase still bringing a smile to his lips. He said nothing, and she squirmed again. "I love you."

Severus hummed and closed his eyes. "I know."

He was curled around her body; they shared the same pillow. Her skin was warm and sleep beckoned, though he knew she wasn't finished. Never let it be said that his wife could start something that she wouldn't finish.

"I love you," she said again.

A rumble from his chest was the answer, and Hermione giggled. "Do you want me to beg?" she asked impishly, her voice just above a whisper. "Because I will, you know."

"Go ahead," he purred sleepily, barely able to crack one eye open. "Beg."

Another titter reached his ears from beneath the fog that he had begun to descend into. "The only thing in the world that I want to hear is –"

"I love you," he cut in, his voice heavy with teasing and tiredness. Again she laughed, louder this time, and he broke the surface of the fog for long enough to mutter, "Now let me sleep, woman, or I swear I shall go mad."

…

"I have something to show you," said Severus as he summoned a towel and headed for the bathroom. Hermione was still cocooned in the blankets; he could just see her slightly upturned nose poking out, along with her usual morning tangles.

"Something that requires you to be out of bed so early on a Saturday? Come back," she implored cheekily, stretching and sticking a hand out from underneath the blankets to beckon him to return. "It's cold."

"It's almost summer," he responded flatly, jerking his chin to the bright sky visible through the window. "Is this how you managed to save the wizarding world? Lying abed like a sloth?"

The teasing jibe sent her grumbling and growling as she threw back the covers, and Severus stifled a chuckle when she ran over to hold onto his hips.

"Unhand me!"

"That's what you get," she declared, shuffling along behind him as he made for the bathroom. "Wake me, and you must suffer the consequences."

"You're awfully chipper."

"Two reasons," his wife announced with aplomb worthy of the enthusiastic hands that she directed downwards to cup his buttocks. When she dug her nails into each cheek, Severus huffed and hastened his steps. "The first being: you have something for me."

"Ah."

"Indeed. I like presents."

"Do you now?"

"I do."

A wave of his hand had the water gushing out of the shower head, and he turned to face her, one eyebrow already raised. "What makes you think it's a present?"

Unperturbed, Hermione stepped into the shower cubicle and ran her hands over his chest, her fingertips pausing to stroke through the thin black hair over his sternum. After placing one small kiss between his collarbones, she grinned and nipped at his neck. He shook his head, affecting nonchalance, but secretly delighted in all of her attention – the scratching of her nails on his chest was divine, and the soft nips of her teeth on his body made him sigh with pleasure.

"It's a present," she murmured, "because it's from you. I'm sure that I will love it."

"Hmm," he remarked. "You might. Next."

"Oh, yes. My second reason for being chipper is as follows: I have a deliciously scrumptious man in the shower with me, and I think I should like to have my way with him."

Her hands wandered lower and Severus' head fell back, making contact with the shower wall. A groan escaped his lips when her hands encircled his penis; her sure strokes combined with the tongue that lapped at the water running over his nipples made him tremble with desire.

Severus could barely believe his good fortune; it seemed too much that not only had he a family – a loving, beautiful family – but also, his wife wished to bestow her affection on his body as often as she could. Keeping up with a woman half his age was beginning to take its toll on his back; perhaps he should look into designing a new potion…

"Did you hear me?" Hermione teased, taking one step forward, the movement bringing her flush against him. "I said–"

He growled and dug his fingers into her hips, hoisting her up until she was forced to link her legs around his waist. Stepping forward until she was against the shower wall, he murmured, "Less talking, more being chipper, if you please."

…

To be sheathed within her in such a way was nothing short of pure bliss. He could barely breathe, so lost was he; she clenched around him again and he whimpered, his thrusts slowing as he tried to forestall his body's demand for release. He searched for anything, anything, that could prolong such pleasure but Hermione squeezed her muscles with a devious little laugh and he hurtled towards his orgasm with a long, loud groan.

When at last he could raise his head from where it rested on her shoulder, he watched as she disentangled her shaking legs and stood beside him. The warm water from the shower ran over her body, and he lifted one index finger and let it follow one droplet from her neck to her belly.

"Minx," muttered Severus; for all of his early waking, he was already shattered.

Hermione tittered and tilted her head to the side, her arms reaching around him to pull him into her embrace. "But you enjoyed it."

He gave a short, incredulous laugh and shook his head. "You'll be the death of me. I'll have to start drinking Pepper-Up every damn morning." Despite the half-truth – he really would need to start exercising again, or at least give up his penchant for sickly sweet coffees – Severus let his hands wander over her back, squeezing each of her buttocks in turn. Miraculously, he felt a spark of arousal within him as he explored her smooth flesh, kneading and stroking.

"Back to bed?" she suggested, her smirk entirely becoming.

The protest that came in response to her words was completely without feeling.

…

When they rose again, he tugged on her hand and pulled her behind him. They made short work of the stairs and soon stood together before the kitchen doors that led out into the courtyard.

Severus nervously ran a hand through his hair. Not one for giving or receiving gifts until his marriage, it still felt jarring to lay his heart out so plainly for her perusal. For he was doing just that: if she did not understand, if she did not agree, then… ah, well. He would give her this now, and the documents for the cottage could wait until the summer holidays – and my other surprise, he added with a smirk – began next week.

"You might not like it," he started, trailing off to clear his throat. Awkwardly, he began again with a huffed, "But it's for you and I'd like it if you would view it."

Hermione's beaming smile made something flip over in his stomach. "Of course I'll look!" she exclaimed, her small hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He leant into the warmth and pressed his lips together. "Don't be so nervous," she said gently. His eyes flew open and he tensed; as always, her uncanny knack of detecting his emotional state left him defensive and unsure.

"I'm not nervous," he grumbled.

"You are!" she returned laughingly. "But it's all right. I rather like that you are."

"You do?" He took both of her hands within his larger grasp.

"Of course I do! What woman wouldn't love that her man –" Severus almost tuned her out at that; his enjoyment at being referred to in such a base, possessive way was close to ridiculous. Hermione paused and snorted, seemingly catching his thoughts, and he ducked his head with flaming cheeks.

"As I was saying," she continued imperiously, "what woman wouldn't love that her man, her wizard, her very own husband, feels nervous about gifting her something? It's beyond flattering that you care for my opinion."

"Is it?" he pressed, narrowing his eyes. "You're mocking me." There was no venom in it; he kept merely enough flatness in his tone just so he could see – ah, there it was. Her wide brown eyes shone as she tossed her head with impatience, and he grinned.

"Show me the present," she demanded, clapping her hands together as if she were a queen holding court. "Come on!"

…

It would be years before he stopped regularly thinking of the look upon his wife's face when she saw his gift: the joy, laughter and excitement. Her kisses that followed were even sweeter; slow and indulgent, they spoke more of her love and understanding than any words could have done.

Perhaps it might have been strange that planting such a small, delicate lilac sapling could induce such happiness, but it did.