Text at the beginning in italics is from the Deathly Hallows. And all characters belong to JKR of course.

Here's epilogue 2 – which is how I would have liked things to turn out:

"Look … at … me…" he whispered.

The green eyes found the black…

In the end, it was Hermione who stood by, watching in horror as Harry collected the substance in a flask. And it was Hermione who pushed Harry aside and fumbled frantically at the collar of Snape's robes.

She breathed out hard when she saw the glint of the silvery chain against his thin neck. "Thank god, oh thank god – you did it, you clever man!" With shaking fingers, she found the vial with the stopper and twisted it around, clasping the unconscious professor's shoulder with her other hand.

There was just time to glance over her shoulder at the astonished boys. "I'll try to get back when I can… I'm so sorry, I can't explain now –" and then she felt the dizzying sensation of the portkey. It slammed them down on the ground hard somewhere just outside Hogsmeade, and Hermione felt Severus grunt in pain. Blood gushed from the wound in his neck, as she tapped the vials to enlarge them. There were 3 – one she recognised as essence of dittany and poured it liberally over his wound.

It was unclear what the other 2 were, but the man was clearly fading fast, so she took a deep breath, grabbed the back of his head to steady him, and poured them both into his gaping mouth.

She dropped the vials, gathered his head onto her lap and gazed down at him in despair… that turned to hope as his pulse started again and he began to gasp for air.

20 years later, a village outside Granada in Spain.

The local children called him a wizard – which was ironic, all things considered, as it had been years since he'd done any real magic – in public, at least. His magic was in his healing. He had power that even the local doctors respected, even though they did not understand it.

He and his wife were foreigners, of course, even though they'd been living in this village for at least 15 years. The villagers treated them with some suspicion, but despite that, would tramp up the dusty hill to their small house whenever they had a complaint that modern medicine couldn't fix. His poultices soothed their arthritic shoulders; his herbal medicines cured coughs and fixed poorly stomachs. His wife had attended difficult births when asked; had pulled forth distressed infants that might not have otherwise survived their traumatic arrivals into the world. And she had gentled the last days and moments of people leaving this world.

They were often seen about the village, shopping or strolling around. He was polite but taciturn and occasionally moody – in appearance tall and thin with straggly dark hair, turning slightly grey. His much younger wife was more friendly, smiling gently at the children despite the suspicious stares that they still received despite so many years. They both spoke fluent Spanish. She might have passed for Spanish with her tanned skin and deep brown eyes, but his pale skin spoke of a much cooler climate.

Observers often noted that they did not speak to each other much, just walked beside each other at a slight distance, although occasionally their shoulders would brush in a way that seemed not entirely accidental. And sometimes, they would look into each other's eyes for a few minutes, as if in silent communication. There was no doubt of their mutual accord, even if they did not choose to be demonstrative.

They had relatively few friends. There was a small wizarding community in Granada, and they both (or occasionally just she) regularly made the journey there to sit in a café with them. They would discuss the latest news in their world – new Ministry regulations; Harry Potter's ascent to power. As far as their friends were concerned, they had been at Hogwarts and had played a small role in the battle over Voldemort, but no one knew who they really were.

They made these trips by car. She'd never mastered a broomstick and found apparating too tiring these days. She suspected that her overuse of that skill during that last year with Harry and Ron had exhausted her abilities. He was happy to travel by Muggle means, having been brought up partly in that world.

It was a rusty old car, but it served them well. They turned off the main road and moved slowly, carefully down the stony, dusty track into the village. They lived just above the village, with a good view over the valley, in a position with reasonable precipitation and good soil for their plants. Their house sat low against the hillside; the back of it actually built into the hill, which kept the rooms cool in the heat of summer and cosy in winter.

They parked the car at the side of the house, jumped out and paused, glancing at each other. There were footprints in the dust – not a local; they had the tread of designer walking boots. They hesitated, looking into each other's eyes, then nodded and walked forward quietly, their hands drifting towards their wands, just in case…

As they turned the corner, they could see a short, rather stocky dark haired man standing by their front door, his back to them, looking out over the valley. She stopped, a lump forming. She'd know that figure anywhere.

"Harry… oh Harry…" The man turned, and she ran forward, throwing herself into his arms.

Severus stood back, as the two old friends hugged each other. Then he stepped forward and held out his hand formally.

"Mr Potter, I presume?"

Harry let go of Hermione and held out his hand. "Harry, please. And may I call you Severus?"

"You may… Harry." They shook hands, green eyes meeting black once more, searchingly. Harry gave a little nod of reassurance and the trio turned towards the house.

"How long has it been?"

"Five years. Too long, Harry!" Hermione bashed at his arm, teasingly.

He looked embarrassed. "Well, you know, with the Ministry… And James graduated this year, did you know?"

"Fortunately, Mrs Potter is a somewhat better correspondent than you…," Severus commented drily. "And how is my namesake? I hope he's had the good sense to drop his terrible first name?"

Harry gave him an amused look. "Albus Severus is doing very well, thank you. At least, I think he is, although we tend to hear most about him from Ron, via Rose. Did you know that Ron was getting remarried, by the way?"

Hermione linked her arms through both men as they walked towards the house. "Yes, Ginny mentioned it. I'm so glad, I know he went through a terrible time when Susan died. I wish we could have been there…"

Harry stopped her with his hand on her arm. "Please, don't, Hermione. We do understand – we respect your decision to stay private all these years."

Severus stopped by the door. "And no one knows still? Apart from you and the Weasleys?"

"As far as the world is concerned, Hermione Granger died by the hand of a rogue Death Eater while trying to save the life of Severus Snape, who was posthumously decorated for his bravery. No one knows what became of your bodies, but your names are on the Wall of Remembrance by the lake at Hogwarts. Next to each other, incidentally." He smiled. "Not by my doing, but I thought you might appreciate the irony."

Hermione and Severus glanced at each other and laughed. She smiled at Harry. "You must be tired from your journey. Did you apparate direct? Let me get you a drink… and are you staying for dinner?"

They sat in the shady garden late into the warm summer evening, sipping wine. Hermione was eager to hear about old friends; rejoicing and weeping over good and bad news. Severus wanted to know about the school and who would be replacing Minerva, who had recently announced her intention to retire at the relatively young age of 95. He couldn't blame her; he had had no desire to return to Hogwarts himself, even if things had been different.

Harry watched them curiously, noting the surreptitious little brushes of hands and thighs as they sat side by side, looking over their garden and the view beyond. His old friend and his old professor looked deeply content. He'd often wondered why they'd never had children, but had finally come to the conclusion that they were too deeply and happily entwined in their research and development of new potions to even think about adding to their family. That they were a 'family' was certain. A very different family from the Weasleys and from his own bustling little home, but a family nonetheless.

Severus gave a satisfied sigh, looking around at the little white cottage, the neat rows of plants and herbs stretching up the hillside behind them, then he stood up and moved towards the lip of the hill, gazing down at the valley, at the thin stream that trickled down towards the village.

"This was mine, you know, before the battle. I bought it with my savings; it wasn't much. Just a ruin set among untended ground. After Hermione visited me – that time at Hogwarts – I did some thinking. I remembered visiting this place years ago, while collecting plant samples. I knew it would be perfect for what I had in mind. So I came here, found the owner and bought it. I made plans. In the Head's office at Hogwarts, late at night, when I wasn't preparing potions to save my own life, or trying to keep the Carrows away from the children, or trying to pacify the Dark Lord… I sat and dreamed and made my plans. I thought it might be years before I could do what I wanted to, or possibly even never. " He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, his eyes very dark. "I made plans for that eventuality too."

Harry remembered the letter addressed to Hermione that he had found in the Headmaster's office. He looked at Hermione, who stood, filled the wine glasses again, picked up two of them and moved towards her husband. She stood next to him, her shoulder leaning into his arm.

He looked down at her, then lifted his arm and put it around her, pulling her close to him. Harry swallowed, feeling as if he was intruding upon a private moment. He wondered briefly whether to slip away, but then Severus began to speak again, clearly addressing his comments to their visitor.

"Well, you know what happened when you found us, after Hermione saved my life. We sold Spinners End and used the money to rebuild the house and dig up the land. This… this is my dream…"

Harry walked slowly over to join them in gazing at the view. "And you? What's your dream, Hermione?"

She glanced at him then turned and smiled up at the tall dark man by her side. His eyes, as they looked at her, were as soft as Harry had ever seen them.

"This is my dream, Harry."

"Isn't it a little quiet? Dull, even?"

Hermione and Severus shrugged in tandem – Harry noticed that they seemed to do most things together, almost as if, during their years of close proximity, they had choreographed their own private movements. He assumed that if you worked together in a small laboratory with volatile substances, you learned to move around each other in a carefully choreographed way. He glanced back at the small unassuming cottage – hard to believe that it contained a world-class laboratory that produced some of the most highly regarded potions known to wizard. Clearly, they had magicked the building to be bigger on the inside than on the outside. He didn't know – in all the years he'd been visiting them, as one of their few contacts with the outside world, he'd never been invited inside, and he'd been careful to respect their privacy.

"Dull?" Hermione repeated. "Maybe a little at times. But there's a wonderful library in Granada, and the conditions are perfect here for what we do."

"Hmm…" He looked out over the valley, carefully avoiding their gaze. "You know, there's a Healers' conference in Glastonbury in October. Could be a good opportunity to make an announcement. And your skills would be very welcome in Britain, you know."

Severus tensed immediately. Hermione sighed. "Oh, Harry, I don't know… All the publicity. You and Ron coped well, but it must have been so hard, those first years."

He put a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Things have calmed down a lot since then. Ginny is now editing the Prophet –did she tell you that, by the way? Once Lily left for Hogwarts, she rose up through the ranks very quickly – was bored with the kids being away from home. Between us, she and I could control any publicity you get. "

There was a silence. He sighed. "Look, Hermione, Severus. We all understand why you've kept hidden away all these years, but don't you think it's time to give the wizarding world a chance again? It's a whole new generation; they only remember Severus as a great hero." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Severus wince. "There's nothing to stop you carrying on your work here, you know. Neville would give anything to have you as a guest lecturer at the school. Why not train up an apprentice? Perhaps you could offer an apprenticeship scheme? And you can expand the business into Britain, then. I know you export your potions to other parts of Europe – I know all this is just a cover for the real work you do."

Severus laughed out loud – a free, easy-going guffaw of a laugh, very different from the dark sneers of the Potions professor he remembered. "What don't you know about us, Harry Potter?"

He grinned. "Well, I have a great team of aurors, headed up by one Mr Ron Weasley. You didn't think Ron wouldn't have kept a close eye on you over the years? Did you think we really believed that you'd choose to retire to a small village and do no potions research at all?"

Severus shrugged and pulled his wife into his side again. They gazed over the view.

"Maybe he's right; maybe it is time…"

"Hmm…" was her only reply.

There was silence for a few moments. Then Harry laughed gently into the approaching darkness. "Shall I say it or will you?"

Hermione and Severus looked at each other for a moment, before Hermione spoke. "I will…" They turned as one to Harry and clinked glasses with him. "To Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape … who chose to live…"

As the couple drank, Harry turned away slightly, adding his own toast. "… and to the bravest man I ever knew," he whispered.

They stood together, drinking as the evening darkened and the bright stars appeared over the little village.