Disclaimer: Still not mine!

A/N: You'll see what I mean by the way I end this chapter, but a lot of the next will be from Severus' POV and thus shall be explained further. The next chapter will be the last, unless I run out of room heheh. Thank you to everyone for following, reading and reviewing this story – I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I've read over this, but if there are any mistakes other than where I've obviously lost the fight with one of the scene dividers, forgive me – I'm using word for the first time on this new laptop as I've been stuck with a notepad thing for too long and when transferring most of this chapter to the new program, it double spaced everything and I'm editing 17 pages instead of… whatever it would've normally been. Whoops.

A little note here - I know that Draco having a Patronus is iffy canon-wise, but hey, this is AU land now. ;-)

The last scene is dedicated to my smutty soul mate and sexy-times extraordinaire, Lystan.

Chapter 8: Role Reversal

This youthful heart can love you

And give you what you need

But I'm too old to go chasing you around

Wasting my precious energy

Tracy Chapman

.

It took Severus a week to acclimatise his body and mind with the notion that a beautiful witch had kissed him; pressed her soft, pink lips to his in a gentle caress that he could still feel now, so many days afterwards. He contemplated it when he drunk his strong, unsweetened black coffee in the mornings, when he tried out a cup of tea with two and a half sugars and inevitably gagged, and, perhaps most notably and indeed pathetically, when he bowed down to primal urges and took himself in hand.

There were many times in his life that he'd felt inadequate, filled to overflowing with shortcomings. But at least he could lay claim to having had the pleasure of burying himself inside a woman, clutching her buttocks in his long fingers and hearing moans of satisfaction that he had been responsible for. Yes, he knew such things, even though it would no doubt shock and stun almost everyone who'd ever come into contact with him.

Hermione was different. Severus' long strides around Conan's farm paused as he considered this point: yes, she was a very different woman to any he'd had before. It might have been years (almost too many to count), but he still remembered just where to circle his finger to coax his partner to bliss, and there was no chance in the seven layers of hell that he'd forget what it felt like to have hot, wet walls clenching around him.

He was not a stranger to sex. Sex for mutual pleasure, in any case. He was a stranger to this.

"And what is 'this'?" he asked himself quietly, resuming his pace. Every morning he walked around the farm, using his feet over the strange looking contraption that Conan rode around on. It was almost mindless, to check the animals, the fences. It was certainly not mindless today.

Severus was at a loss. She'd kissed him. Kissed. Him.

As if she hadn't done enough for him, what with saving his life, now she was presenting her lips to him like the temptress she unknowingly was. This seemed like... like friendship, or a little bit more. Not love - no, they were both careful, a war would do that to someone. But he saw in her a woman that he could love - that he might even want to. And, blissfully, there was a choice in it; there was no teenage false bravado that wrenched the feelings out as if they'd been crafted with the intention to humiliate. Absolutely everything about Severus' life in the last five years had been the results of his own choices. It was liberating; being alone was not the curse that it could have been. It was freeing. Could he give it up?

She came to him once during the week that he spent in a state of indecision. Not much was said - it was a Thursday morning, the apothecary was due to open in two hours. A late morning so the night could be spent trading. Hermione sat with him in the sitting room then walked around the cottage. He stayed inside by the kitchen window and watched her discover the lands around them and when she looked over her shoulder at him, he didn't pretend to hide that he'd been following her every move. Her answering faint smile was everything he'd ever wanted to see on a woman's face - surely it was too good to be true. There was desire in her whiskey coloured eyes, and pride, and even a sense of pure happiness. That he had inspired such feelings seemed impossible, but she was proving him wrong. His knees creaked when he left the warmth of the house, but he did so anyway.

"I can understand why you'd never want to leave such a place," she'd said when he finally ventured outside and handed her a cup of tea. They stood together facing the roaring ocean so far below their feet. "But why the portkeys? The cottage isn't unplottable, is it?"

"No," he agreed. "The portkeys..." He scratched at his chin, still unused to bare cheeks. "The only people who come here regularly are Minerva and Poppy."

"And?"

"They come a few hours after the students have left on the train. Minerva's usually too pissed by then to Apparate and neither of them can read Muggle maps to get their way here in any other form."

"Ooh!" Her little inner schoolgirl was unleashed, and she rubbed her hands together with a wicked smile. "What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall."

"No," he said flatly. "Maybe one day. But for now, no. I think you'll run screaming in the other direction if you spend one night here with those two witches."

Humming, Hermione kicked the grass with one of her boots and grinned. "All right. I won't run, then."

Her words had him grinning like a first year before he spluttered something unintelligible and maintained his serious study of the water below.

Thankfully, she kept up the conversation, unpassed by Severus' loss of tongue. "Will you send me co-ordinates, then? I'm happy to Apparate but I was thinking it might be nice to have a little driving holiday when I can manage to take time from work in a million years or so. There's so much that I haven't seen."

"You can drive around England, you know," he said gruffly, glad that she rolled her eyes and ignored the way he was covering just how much he hoped that what she wanted involved him.

"I can't. Really. George has managed to charm my licence – any car I drive is automatically charmed to have a glittering marijuana leaf on the whole of the back window, filled with 'Fuck the Wizengamot'. I stopped counting how many times the Aurors and plods have pulled me over."

Severus found that he couldn't answer – he was far too busy folded half over and roaring with laughter, immeasurably glad that his cheeks were already pink with the effort because when she began to giggle and hold onto his shoulder to steady herself, he could blame the laughter for being short of breath instead of the nearness of her.

"Jesus H. Christ, Granger," he choked out, holding onto his stomach. "I mean… fuck. Fucking hell. I'm not sorry for you in the slightest – that's rather brilliant."

"Sod off! It's not! I've tried getting a replacement license and it still doesn't remove the charm. An international one is my next try, hence the driving holiday. Stop laughing. Back to the cottage and never wanting to leave...?"

"Fine, fine." He appeased her with daring to place a hand on her shoulder, leaving it there then slowly running it down her arm. By the time he reached her hand, Hermione was biting her lip and blushing a pleasing shade of pink. He could get used to such a sight. He wanted to get used to it.

"It is better than I thought it would be," he admitted, lulled by her steady presence at his side. She was wearing dark grey robes that billowed in the wind in a way that seemed humorously familiar. He took his hand from hers, satisfied that he'd tried and tested physical touch with her and somewhat succeeded. It was a lesson in restraint and it was needed – by all the gods, all he wished to do at that moment was take her in his arms and kiss her until he couldn't breathe.

"That's because you thought it would be hell."

Severus turned to Hermione, ready to glower, scowl and order her away because of her perceptiveness. But she looked at him with a challenging cocked eyebrow that aroused him instead of incensed him. Interesting, indeed.

"You may be right," he allowed. "It was so silent here, in the first few months. It was like hell - or what my own hell would have been like, in any case."

"Lots of rum and whiskey and motivational music?" She was eyeing his old and faded Cat Stevens shirt. This time, he did glower.

Hermione laughed into the wind, a silly little laugh filled with snorts and chortles before she said, "Oh, give over, Severus. You named your owl 'Moonshadow'. I'm not even jesting - it's quite fitting."

"Fitting, hmm? How so?"

"Well, you know." She flicked her hair off her shoulder in a practiced movement, and then sung under her breath, "'If I ever lose my legs, I won't moan and I won't beg.'"

Flustered, he coughed. "I'm flattered," he settled with saying, hoping that she'd mistake his honesty for something else so she wouldn't know that he really was bloody flattered that she'd associate such words with him, of all men. "'Morning Has Broken', then?"

"What do you take me for? Miss Priss?" She gave a dainty little sniff and sipped her tea. "'Wild World', if you must know."

Oh, the things he was envisioning now - I never want to see you sad girl, don't be a bad girl.

He couldn't resist the chance to see her sparking, beautiful indignation. Undaunted, he pressed gleefully further, "And? Something more optimistic, I'm sure."

"'Peace Train'," she grumbled, huffing at his bark of laughter. "You bloody old grump."

When she took her leave, he leaned his body against the gate with hands in his pockets. There was no last minute dash to kiss his lips; rather she seemed to know that he wasn't exactly sure just what his thoughts were on the matter. Instead, Hermione touched his arm and grinned - a confident, secret grin that looked terribly enticing on her youthful face. It was what he needed; knowing that there were no expectations between them was enough to have him smirking back at her like he was a wolf that was only waiting to lure her daisy chain kisses into his den.

Severus wanted her - perhaps wanted her more than anything he'd thought of in the last decade. Maybe even longer. She seemed to reciprocate the feeling, though there was something missing, some form of connection that he desired before stepping down from the pyre to embrace life again.

It was, he thought as he trudged back down the lane to his cottage in the early morning light, having found no reason to stay out on the farm, a risk to leave his sanctuary, his safe haven. It almost would have been easier to die - at least in that way, redemption would have come eventually. Living, though... Living was harder. He was comfortable now, keeping his environment controlled; he knew that he wanted something more, something to draw him out to her, to Hermione. Something bigger than attraction, heavier than the substantial weight of pleasure that he held onto for days after her visits. He owed it to her - he would be a fool to encourage his feelings towards her if he was going to back off at the last minute. He would have done such a thing ten years ago, when he believed that nothing good would ever come to him. Merlin, even if she'd come across him five years ago he probably would have ranted and raved to push her away at the smallest hint that she might have been the instigation for change when all he had ever wanted was stability.

She'd shown him that that wasn't entirely true, though he was still determined to grow enough balls to make sure that he could give himself to her in his entirety, if she wished it.

But how could he get to such a point? He was still as shy as a fourteen year old sod, and she was so alluring that he was speechless more often than not. How could he even begin to examine his feelings so he could be sure that he would be doing right by her?

He had to know if he could love her, because Merlin knew that he was not about to take this any further if he couldn't. Fuck his wants and physical needs, he would not be that man again, the one that brought everyone else down with him when he was in a snit. Oh, he would get in snits, and so would she, but he had to be convinced that he was in deep enough to weather them before he approached her. It was the honourable thing to do and if he was going to be a new man then he'd bloody well do it so she could have the person that she deserved.

He let himself in and eyed the empty sitting room, suddenly not feeling content at all with her absence. There had to be something, some way to know whether he was less fucked than he thought, surely? Some way to have the surety that he wasn't just latching onto her because she was amazing and kind and un-fucking-believably beautiful.

He couldn't bollocks this up. He wouldn't.

And, unwittingly, Hermione solved the dilemma for him.

~0~

She'd given Draco a generous month to make his decision. In the end, he came to her a week early, dressed in simple black robes with a shrunken briefcase in his pocket.

Hermione opened the door for him, raising an eyebrow at his chosen time of arrival.

"We're due to open in ten minutes," she said after his formal bow over her hand. "I don't have much time to chat - do you want to have a meeting over lunch?"

Draco stepped inside and let her close the door behind him, all the while looking around the apothecary. "It's not what I had expected," he admitted, gesturing to the orderly presentation of jars and cauldrons and everything else that a Potions maker could possibly need. In truth, Hermione had modelled it off the ever growing Muggle book superstores – never ending bookcases, wide aisles, calm and gentle lighting.

"It's better, isn't it?" Hermione said, arms crossed at her chest as she leaned against the closed door and saw the quirking of his mouth. "You can admit it. Otherwise you wouldn't have come in time to start for the day. I'm right, aren't I?" she added as he turned around in surprise.

Letting out a breath, his shoulders sagged. It was not immediately apparent whether his tone was laced with relief or something else, but he replied with a faint, almost reticent smile. "It is... better. Professional, even."

"What were you expecting? Pink shelves and fairy floss in bottles?"

He snorted and rubbed the back of his neck, suitably chastened. "No, but you mentioned that Lavender-"

"Draco bloody Malfoy!"

They both turned to where Lavender was standing behind the register, her glasses now charmed a fiery red to match her crimson robes. One long, pink nail tapped on the wooden counter.

Draco took a step back when he saw her thunderous expression then muttered under his breath to Hermione, "I can see this was a mistake. I'll leave, I apolog-"

"Turn around this instant!" Lavender said primly and beckoned to him with one finger. "Come closer, if you will."

Hermione held her hands up when he stared at her incredulously then made a show of taking her wand out of its sheath on her wrist. Draco's face flushed a bright, furious red but his indignation quickly changed into a squawk of surprise when his simple robes met with Lavender's own wand as she removed the charm he'd placed, reverting them back to a flowing set, coloured a deep emerald green.

"That's better," Lavender said softly, coming out from behind the counter. Setting her shoulders, she walked determinedly forward with her hand outstretched. Hermione bit back a grin as she observed the two, fighting the urge to dance around the shop with the knowledge that she'd done it. Everything was coming together and it was brilliant.

"Miss Brown," Draco said formally as he took her hand with a grimace that both women knew was a cover for his lack of confidence. He bowed over her hand but stopped halfway, distracted by the familiar drape of his robes.

"That's right," Lavender smiled. "We're all equals here."

Recognising Draco's sneer for the armour that it was, Hermione was unfazed when he said, "And why would I wish to be equal?"

Lavender snorted and reached out an arm when Hermione skirted around the tall, pale man. Linking her own arm around her assistant's, she shot Draco an elaborate wink. "Get to work, Draco. The lab is upstairs, my own list of jobs for the day is on the work bench and you can start on the first half of it. I trust you'll familiarise yourself with the layout of everything. We'll start slowly - you can work half days this week while we hash everything out, joint responsibilities and the like."

"Half days?" Draco echoed.

"At full pay," Hermione responded, smirking when Draco shook his head.

"I don't want your pity, Miss Gr-"

"Draco?" She tossed her hair out of her face and planted a hand on her hip. "Bugger off and get to work."

If Draco noticed the two witches silently squealing and jumping up and down while he walked up the stairs, then he wisely mentioned nothing. It wasn't like he could - he was too busy sending his Patronus to his wife, telling her he'd be home in time for dinner for the first time in years. For once, conjuring the hawk was effortless.

He had arrived on Tuesday and by Saturday afternoon, Hermione was equally satisfied and frustrated by her decision to hire the man. Draco's work ethic was faultless, as was his skill for brewing. That was, of course, not what was bothering her.

"Uncle taught me most of what I know," he said in an offhand way while they worked on opposite ends of the work bench, three cauldrons already simmering between them. "The apprenticeship was child's play compared to what he used to make me do during the summer holidays."

Hermione barely looked up from her chopping board, glad that she could direct her confusion to the ingredients. It was more disconcerting than it should have been - working beside the man that was a constant reminder of the other man that was more than likely sitting in a wingback chair in a small Irish cottage, reading a book whilst Hermione sent her mind into overdrive.

The hardest thing was that she was determined to step back now, and let him come to her if he wanted to. She had chased him enough – gods knew that she wanted him, every inch of him even, but she was determined to be patient. No matter how awfully difficult it was.

The entirety of her skin felt as if it were aflame with desire for Severus, something that was both new and exciting. It had been over a year since a man had shared her bed and she was already aware that there would be no comparison between the hurried fumbling of the grand total of three men of her past. Brewing had become difficult; instead of finding comfort in the methodical preparations, it was... arousing.

When she stirred and counted each turn under her breath, it was Severus that she thought of, his long fingers gripping the rod, smoothing over it when direction needed to be changed. Slicing, chopping and peeling were not safe at all, for they merely worked to conjure the image of the black haired man as he ran his hands over each ingredient to check for blemishes, or tossed them into a cauldron with such a look of concentration that it made her wonder whether he'd examine her body in such a way.

Where would he start? Her breasts, she hoped - already the tender skin was tightening under her robes just pondering what it might feel like to have his tongue, so often used to chastise and instruct, darting out to lap at her. If only there were two of him, two heads of black silken hair at each breast to pleasure all of her at once-

"Granger? Hermione?"

"Hmm? What?"

"Where were you? You've been standing there with this look on your face-"

"What look? I don't look like anything. There's no look."

Draco scoffed. "I'm married, Hermione. Do you think I don't know what it looks like when a woman thinks about-"

"All right, all right!" She glowered at him and pressed her lips together to stop a laugh escaping when he snickered. Ron would have been reaching for his wand, but Hermione was surprised by just how quickly she had gotten used to Draco's company. "You're in a good mood today," she said, batting away his snort of laughter.

"Your skills of manipulating conversations leave much to be desired," he said with a sideways grin. "But, yes. I am in a good mood today."

"And...?"

"And what, Hermione? Do you wish to know why?"

"Don't make me beg, Draco. Don't forget, I punched you quite thoroughly once," she said stiffly. "As you can see, I'm in need of distractions. Give me one, if you please."

He shrugged and said, "As you wish."

She set down her knife and turned to him, waving a stasis charm over their work. "Truly?"

"For Merlin's sake, Granger. Put the kettle on. I'll get the biccies. Go on. What were your words yesterday? Oh - yes. 'Bugger off' and get started on the tea."

If his relaxed attitude was very different to her expectations, so was the ease with which he settled into the chairs in the library and began to tell her just why he had come into work with a smile from ear to ear.

"I've severed the final link between Father and I," he announced between mouthfuls of almond biscuits. "He had me on a bit of a leash, see, and to keep my inheritance I had to follow all of these ridiculous rules. Now, I've stuck my proverbial finger up at him, if you catch my drift."

"But he's in Azkaban!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's in for life, isn't he? How did he even get such a hold on you in the first place?"

Draco shook his head and corrected her with a wry smile, "Twenty years, not life. But... yes. It's a valid question... the Malfoy name isn't what it once was, at least in terms of financial standing. Father paid a fair stack of galleons in fines and then housing the Dark Lord for so long put a dent in it all, too. Then he made the contract after he was sentenced, knowing that I'd prefer to take the money and run rather than keeping up a relationship with him. The only job I could find was Durmstrang, no one else wanted to taint their reputations by hiring... well, myself."

"So you didn't want to? Maintain a relationship with him, I mean."

"Gods, no." He gave a delicate shudder. "Why? Mother still can't sleep at night - she stays with Astoria and I, she can't even step inside the old Manor. She barely leaves our house. I couldn't see it before, but now I just wish that Father wasn't so spineless - he should've gone over with Uncle Severus. The whole thing was a crock of shite. I know that he was trying to protect us in his own way, but he cared about the Malfoy name more than keeping Mother's sanity. Anyway, what with supporting Mother and Astoria, and paying off the rest of the debts, I needed the extra money from the inheritance. A teacher's wage is just a bloody pittance, in case you were wondering."

"Why do you think I opened the business?" Hermione crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, eager to keep talking. "I still can't believe it's all worked out so well. And, you know, the salary... your salary... there's no pity in it. I - we need you. You can see how busy we are; there was no question that we were going to need you. Circe, it was either you or prostrating myself before Slughorn."

Draco nodded slowly, running his index finger around the rim of his cup. She gave him a moment to digest the information and then cleared her throat, looking at him pointedly and grinning when he sighed in mock exasperation.

"Yes. Well," he mumbled and shrugged again. "It was nice to be needed, I won't deny it. It was Astoria, of all people, who didn't want to end the contract with Father. She worries that I'll regret it. But it was time for it - when he gets out, he'll see that he no longer has control over Mother and I. Perhaps he will have changed."

"Or worsened," Hermione muttered. "Let's drink to him, shall we?" With a smirk, she walked behind the desk and reached into the top drawer to slide out the bottle of brandy that Minerva had brought over as a gift to celebrate the opening of the store. Ignoring Draco's arched brows, she gave both cups a generous splash. "To your father," she began, lifting her cup in the air. "May he regret being a whey-faced wanker."

"And to you," Draco countered, blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "May you get the rogering you so obviously wish for."

"Pah! Say, now..." Hermione blinked and stared at Draco, her mouth opening wider and wider as she processed her thoughts.

"What? Granger, you'll catch flies. Close your mouth."

She closed her mouth with a click. "You've renounced the contract, yes?"

"Y-eee-s?"

"Was that contract... restricting your social life? Estranging you from distant familial obligations?"

"Eh?"

She shuffled closer and shoved the brandy bottle into his hands, aware that she was heading into uncharted waters. "Did the contract keep you from having a relationship with... with your godfather?"

He blew out a breath and unscrewed the bottle, took a swig and rested his palms on his knees. "It did. Yes. For over five years now, I haven't heard from him or seen him."

Hermione let her head fall onto the back of the chair with a faint thud. "Gods," she sounded out. "What a nightmare. Sometimes I wish men would just get them out and measure, instead of having pissing contests all over town. How utterly shit for you, Draco. He's missed you, you know."

"Sorry, Hermione - who has missed me? And no one's pissing anywhere, unless you count Father trying to make up for a certain appendage that might... fall short."

"Oh." She wrinkled her nose and snorted. "I assumed your Father and Severus had some sort of an argument. Why else would he forbid you to have contact?"

"It's nothing more than Father wanting to control everything. He's still smarting that Uncle got away in the end. He's the only one of us that hasn't stepped foot in Azkaban."

"This time around," Hermione reminded him and Draco pursed his lips and nodded.

"Yes, this time. I don't share Father's opinions, Hermione. That's obvious, isn't it?"

"Oh, of course it is," she said immediately, gesturing to his tea cup. "Drink up. You're not your father, and thank everything under the sun for that. My point, now that I've got enough stone to make it, is that I've... I've been talking t-to Severus. Snape. I've been talking to Snape. Professor Snape."

"Merlin's balls! You?" Draco whistled through his teeth. "Didn't think you had it in you. How'd you bring him back from the dead? I confess to being so envious that I'd take some polyjuice right now if he couldn't smell it a mile away." He swallowed and turned away to stare out the window, taking in the grey skies above the city. In a softer voice, he added, "How is he?"

"He wants to see you." Hermione wasn't even sure that she was speaking the truth - there was every possibility that Severus might never wish to see one wink of her again after taking such a liberty. The man obviously valued his privacy.

Regardless - she couldn't resist. What if she was right?

"I think we should go," she said firmly.

Draco blinked slowly. "Go where? Don't dangle this in front of me if you can't deliver, Hermione." He ran a hand through his blonde hair, an uncharacteristically nervous action. "Where is he?"

With relief, she set her cup down and shook her head. This she could give Severus - if he wished to let anyone else in then what was up to him. But she wasn't above knocking on the door. Her voice was gentle when she offered her reply, "It's not for me to say. But I'll take you, if you want. Now."

"Now?" Draco looked down at his lap, then back at her. The steely determination and fervent hope in his eyes was encouraging. "Now... now. Yes. Now. But just tell me one thing while I'm pouring this into my mouth so I don't piss myself, I'm that bloody nervous. And don't tell anyone that I said that. Not a soul."

"Bugger off, you know I'll tell anyone I want if this goes well," she said, smirking as he took a long drink directly from the bottle then released the rim with an audible pop. "What is your 'one thing'?"

"Well," he began, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "it's curious, isn't it? Out of everyone in Britain, you're the one he's choosing to spend his time with."

"Make your point, Draco."

He coughed, as if her scowl confirmed wherever his thoughts were heading. "This is him, isn't it? He's it. Uncle Severus is it."

"It? What? Get your cloak, by the way. We're leaving the country – oh, don't look so worried, it's not that far. Hang on, I'll get my coat. Right - who's it?"

By now they stood on the little balcony outside the greenhouse, having climbed the stairs while shoving arms through their warm coverings. "Side-Along?" She offered her elbow.

"Obviously."

"Oh, whatever. Who's it? What are you going on about?"

Draco cleared his throat and shot her a roguish grin that took her straight back to Hogwarts. She cocked an eyebrow and sneered before taking his arm. Unperturbed, he leaned down and said into her ear, "This is the one you want to roger you senseless!"

She squawked with disgruntlement and stamped her foot. "My business is my own, Draco sodding Malfoy. Now do shut up or I'll Side-Along you so hard that you'll be vomiting over your boots."

"They're dragon hide boots, Granger! Wha- oh, fuck!" In a flash, she jerked him to the Irish coast and stepped back, metaphorically and physically wiping her hands of her companion who was currently trying to maintain his dignity while spluttering with laughter and dry retching into the grass.

"Where are we?" he asked when he'd managed to compose himself. They looked around together, seeing nothing but green, rolling hills dotted with livestock. Peacefulness settled over Hermione like a glove - it felt like coming home. Severus' cottage was just over the next hill, where they would see the water stretching out like smooth, blue glass. She was nearly dancing on the spot.

"We, Mister Malfoy, are in Ireland! Now hurry up. This might be the last time we speak – I might be dead in a few minutes if I'm wrong and he despises your little hide after all. I'm eager to find out."

~0~

Oh, gods.

She would never forget it. Never.

She'd done the right thing – how could she have doubted herself? Oh, Severus. It almost hurt to see such a private moment; she should have let Draco walk over the final hill on his own, left him to wait at the back gate.

Severus had walked out of his cottage slowly, wand raised in a natural reaction to the unfamiliar presence at the border of his wards. At first, he smiled at her so gently that it felt like her chest would burst – then he'd spotted Draco.

Unsure of himself, the younger man had stayed to the side, fidgeting with the hem on his robes. Neither wizard said a word. Draco did not raise his head from where it was directed at the ground.

Hermione hesitantly took a few steps backwards and gestured to Draco, tilting her head towards Severus to encourage her colleague to move, do something, say something. But it didn't matter, in the end.

A silent spell sent the gate flying open and the shock of the rush of air made Draco's head snap up, finally locking his apprehensive blue eyes with Severus' own stunned pair of black.

Hermione had tried so damn hard to keep her wits about her – stay calm, maintain careful composure. Yet all propriety was promptly thrown out the window when Severus strode through the gate and grabbed onto Draco's shoulders. He kept him at arm's length, his eyes roving over Draco's face and then his body, taking in everything from the new wrinkles on his face to the fraying hem on his work robes.

Severus coughed thickly as if clearing his throat for speech, his eyes falling shut as he took a deep breath in. He opened his eyes, Draco hung his head and Hermione took a step back as the moment became all too private when the younger man sniffed and then threw his arms around Severus' taller frame, the Potions Master freezing then almost simultaneously exhaling with relief as he returned the embrace with as much emotion as a father might have when greeting a long missed son.

Without a word, Hermione smiled at the two men, not bothering to discern who was sobbing and who was comforting, then turned on her heel and disappeared with a soft crack.

~0~

An hour later, Lavender, Ginny and Hermione stood at the counter and watched over the ground floor of the apothecary. They were closed on Sundays and Mondays, and Saturday afternoons always meant that the rows of shelves were teeming with customers until the decision had been made to open until the early evening.

Hermione had arrived back from Severus' cottage with a beaming, trembling smile as tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. Neither Ginny nor Lavender had managed to uncover the reason why, and soon after they waved her away upstairs.

"What do you think that was all about?" Lavender asked Ginny when the store was nearly empty. They were only a half hour away from closing and both witches were beginning to pack up their bags.

"Not sure," Ginny responded, though her smile was a knowing one. "She's happy, though. So it's something good. Something to do with – oh. Oh. Oh, shite! Lavender! Look!"

Lavender turned towards the door at Ginny's hissed expletive and gulped. A man stood in the doorway, quietly looking over the shop. If the shoulder length black hair and too fair skin weren't giveaways, the undisguised pride and surprise in his eyes as he took in the apothecary showed, beyond a doubt, to be the man that had her best friend head over heels.

"Professor Snape," Lavender breathed as the tall man walked into the store, eyeing the two women with narrowed, speculative eyes. He'd barely aged a day – if anything, he looked younger. His face was softer, and while his hair had some streaks of grey, he looked… good. "H-hello. Good evening, I mean. Or… erm. Hullo."

"Good evening, Miss Brown," he said slowly, his tone curiously warm. "And Mrs… Potter. Good evening."

Ginny blinked, giving a more than adequate impression of a fish as her mouth opened and closed. Finally she managed to squeak, "Upstairs!"

"Pardon?" Snape's thin black brows furrowed and he walked closer to the women, peering at them as if examining their countenance. "Are you quite all right?"

"Upstairs, upstairs," Ginny repeated, staring holes into his soft looking black jumper and dark grey jeans. "Up… erm. Up. Hermione. There."

"Ah." He rocked back on his heels and nodded his head. "Miss Granger is upstairs, I take it."

"Yes, yes!" Lavender said hurriedly, sticking her hand in the air to show him where the stairs were. "Yes. Upstairs. Alone. Up. Yes."

"Right…" He made to walk to the back of the store, then turned to see the witches watching him with their eyes fit to bust, both wearing matching pairs of winged spectacles. "My thanks for your… very verbose assistance."

"Ginny!" Lavender scolded as soon as his back was to them again. "Hermione! We have to warn her!"

"Is a fuck supposed to be given here?" Ginny shot her a cheeky wink. "No time anyway. Let him at her!"

"Oooh! Certainly not, no fucks at all! I like your style, Ginny Weasley. Now, for more pressing matters, lean a little to the right for me-"

"You just want to check out his arse in those jeans!"

"He's taking the stairs two at a time, Gin! Allow a woman the chance to appreciate such a view! This trumps that wet shirt scene that Hermione was watching on repeat last month. What was that film? Pride and something. 'Pride and Polyjuice'?"

"Don't know, don't care. Irrelevant, obviously."

The witches turned in unison and watched the aforementioned arse bounding up the stairs.

"He's very eager. Hmm," Lavender drawled, tapping the counter with shining pink nails. "Quite a sight, wouldn't you say?"

The two women leaned further past the counter then jumped back when Snape whirled at the last minute and fixed them with his best scowl. "My face is up here, ladies," he growled and stalked around the landing to continue up the last flight of stairs, disappearing from view.

"I don't care if he assigns me detention for a year," Lavender said dreamily. "That was utterly worth it."

Ginny made a humming sound then sucked in a breath of shock, turning to Lavender and wringing her hands. "Shite, Lavender! I just realised – she's in such a good mood! We should've warned her!"

"Ooh, fuck a duck!" Lavender clapped her hands over her mouth. "You know what she's like. She'll have Tracy Chapman on, no bra. I bet she's already reading on the toilet. Merlin's pants, what should we do?"

"It's a test. A test," Ginny said firmly. "He's here for her, obviously. If he can't handle a braless bookworm, then he's not for our Hermione then, is he?"

"I hope for her sake he can, though. I mean, gosh. That arse…" Lavender shouldered her bag and herded the rest of the customers out, closing the door with a wave of her wand.

"Yes…" Ginny sighed and reset the wards before beginning the walk down the street with Lavender in tow. "Good thing it's a weekend for us, now. Although I'm not sure I'm going to survive waiting two whole days before we find out what's happened!"

"Don't say a word to anyone," Lavender cautioned her. "George will probably set up those hidden camera things he's testing out."

Ginny voiced her agreement and took one last look at the now shadowed apothecary. The following smile that stretched over her lips was anything but innocent, and the two witches Apparated, leaving only smug giggles in their wake.