We are nearing the end of our tale. Just one more chapter to go after this one. I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to let me know you are enjoying this story. Your reviews mean the world to me.

My betas are the best and HP does not belong to me.

Six months after the burial of Helena and Melissa Snape, Hermione stood, shivering, outside the gate of Hogwarts. It was mid-January and the wind bit bitterly to her bones, despite the heavy cloak she wore, as she awaited Severus' arrival. As she bounced from foot to foot to stay warm, she looked up to spy him walking briskly across the grounds— he seemed to glide upon the surface, barely disturbing the snowy lawn.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting— there was a matter of discipline I needed to see to..." he apologized.

"It's all right," she huffed, blowing a wayward curl out of her face. "I suggest we hurry—the wind is wicked." Without another word, they both Disapparated.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, once in the cemetery—it was not nearly as cold here as it was in Scotland.

Severus reached inside his cloak to retrieve a long wreath of woven holly. "I thought about bringing this at Christmas, but though it's getting easier, I just couldn't bring myself to come here alone."

Hermione thought back to the poem he had recited when they performed the lament of death for a child. "A posy of green holly?"

"Indeed."

After completing the Trisagion, Severus turned to Hermione. "Would you care to return to my London house for tea?"

She nodded. "That would be lovely."

"I altered the wards for the school term—I'll need to side-along Apparate you, so you may pass unimpeded." He held out his arm in invitation.

As she stepped closer and wrapped her arm around his waist, Hermione noticed how warm he was and unconsciously snuggled in as she closed her eyes. Then she felt the familiar sensation of being drawn through a drinking straw.

After they had settled in with a pot of tea and plate of biscuits between them, Severus decided it was time to broach a topic that had often been on his mind these last three months.

"I'm very pleased you agreed to attend to today with me."

Hermione looked at him, obviously puzzled. "I told you I meant to see this through to the end. Had you doubted me?"

He shook his head. "I got the impression in October that you did not wish to be there, and were, perhaps, tired of hand-holding me through this."

"Oh, Professor, Severus… I am so sorry if I gave you that impression!" she hastened to reassure him. "Nothing of the sort has ever crossed my mind—I'm honored to be a part of this and to be able to be of assistance."

"But your reticence then… and today you didn't join in the laments, as you have in times past."

"I should have rescheduled that visit with you—it had been a difficult day, and although there is no excuse, I am sorry," Hermione replied, her head bowed.

"Ms. Granger?" She looked up. "I may be mistaken, but I thought we had become, well, friends."

"Well, I… I hope we have, but I never wanted to presume."

He rose and began pacing in agitation. ""You have been a friend to me, perhaps closer than I realized… when we were at the cemetery in October, the emotions rolling off of you made it almost impossible not to notice, although I did not wish to intrude… and again, today."

Hermione sighed. "I shouldn't burden you with this, but our last two visits have coincided with anniversaries in my family, and I am not coping as well as I should be."

"Go on."

"Do you really want to hear this?"

"I do believe it was you who told me it is healing to speak of those we have loved and lost," he chided.

"Last time …" She told him all of it—how it had been her parents wedding anniversary, and how she had realized at that very moment what a fraud she had been attempting to lead people through the grieving process when she had yet to accept her own losses. She told him of how she had spent the next two weeks going through her parents' papers—documents that she'd left undisturbed since returning from Australia. She told him of the weeping spells that overcame her when dates she had ignored in the past seemed to loom large and crush her heart.

At some point during her confession, she had ended up curled against him with his arms wrapped around her shoulders as she cried out her anguish.

Severus let her talk and cry as he held her to his chest. For the first time in years, he felt the beat of another's heart against his own. His gentled his touch, and gradually her breathing evened to match his own—when her tears were spent he spoke, "I would say that was five years in the making."

He felt her nod her head against his chest as she clung to him.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She was a professional.She took pride in the business she had built from the ground up. It… it was unconscionable; she could lose her Muggle license if this got out—it would be considered highly unethical, a breach of the client contract—but she couldn't lie to herself any longer about the way she was beginning to feel about Severus.

In the three months since she had cried in his arms, she had thought of little else. She had to have Eileen replace the calming incense she used in the office, because every time she smelled sandalwood, she was transported back to that chilly January evening and the warmth and comfort she had felt in his arms.

Severus wasn't helping matters either. No longer did they only meet on ritual days— four times had she dined at Hogwarts, despite initially making her apologies. Her refusals stopped when he asked, "Are we not friends?"

She wanted to be his friend. She wanted to be more than just his friend, if she was honest, and she suspected he felt the same way. But there were rules.

Tonight was the nine month anniversary—just one more obligation after this evening and she would be free. She will be able to walk away, having fulfilled the obligation of burying his family… and then he would no longer need her. This thought should have filled Hermione with relief—not sadness—but she truly enjoyed the quiet times spent together, his sense of humor and their like-minded discussions… she had found there was much more to Severus Snape than she had seen years earlier as his student.

This visit, Hermione arranged to meet him directly at the cemetery—some distance was necessary… for iher,/i at least. When she he heard a soft pop, she turned to greet her client. Severus looked so much better now— no longer were his eyes darkly shadowed in grief. There was still some sadness, but he no longer appeared entirely consumed by it.

"I'm sorry I was unable to meet you at the school."

"That is quite all right Ms. Granger. I do understand that death cannot take a number and that you have other obligations. Perhaps we can adjourn after the lament has been sung and conclude our business over a cup of tea?"

Lately, it seemed when she was in his presence, all resolve evaporated, and she found herself smiling in response. "Is there something more we need to discuss?"

He did not reply as he turned to proceed to the grave site to begin the ritual.

It did not take long for the laments to be sung and the spring flowers he'd brought to be laid between the graves. Very shortly thereafter, Hermione stood beside him, braced against the olfactory onslaught of ever-present sandalwood as he Apparated them through the wards of his London home.

Was it her imagination, or did he squeeze her a bit tighter before moving to make the tea?

Once they had settled on the couch, a pot of tea steeping next to them, Severus turned to Hermione and took both of her hands in his. "Ms. Granger, Hermione, I do not know what I would have done without your assistance these many months," he began. "No, that's not true—I do know what I would have done. I would have gone mad, or Bee and Lena would still be in Stasis in my study."

'Severus…" She squeezed his hands, noticing the fine calluses and wondering how his time-and-work roughened fingers would feel on her skin, despite herself. "You give yourself far too little credit—all I did is what I was paid to do."

Severus' eyes hardened at her words. "Is that all this is to you? iA job? A responsibility?"/i

Hermione heard the hurt in his voice. "Yes… no. It ishould/ibe... but… I can't do this, Severus." She stood.

Severus rose. "I did not mean to upset you."

"Yes, yes, you did—let's be honest."

"No, Hermione, I did not intend to hurt you—but I have to know..."

"Know what?"

"I have to know if this—if I— imean/i something imore/i to you," he said as he ghosted his fingers along her jaw line. Ever so slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Her breath caught in her throat. Common sense said she should refuse, she should leave, she should run… but once she felt the touch of his lips on hers, she couldn't move. How could lips that had spewed such venom be so soft? How could a mouth that had made her quake in fear now be making her melt?

She broke the kiss and buried her face in his robes. She heard the husky breathlessness of her voice betraying her attempt to end the moment. "We shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong on so many levels: I could lose my license and my business, you're still grieving..."

He held her close as he threaded his fingers through her hair, then cupped her head and tilted it back.

Hermione saw determination and desire in his eyes before he claimed her mouth again and was lost.

Minutes—hours?—later, they were comfortably entwined on the sofa. He held her while she was curled into his chest, playing with one of the many buttons of his frock coat.

"Severus, I won't claim that this is all part of the job."

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he held her tighter.

"But the fact is… that job is what brought us together and… and I can't allow myself to do this. Not now." Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears.

"Please, just don't say inever,/i" he sighed.