A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your reviews. They create all kinds of warm fuzzies. A few of you have requested that Hermione put poor Severus out of his misery, so this chapter will be...quite fun. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Chapter 11 - Hermione Granger

This morning's bedside note had Hermione on her feet within seconds.

Hermione,

I have something I need to ask you. Whenever you're ready…

Severus

When she came down the stairs he was waiting for her in the kitchen, again in his white button-down and black pants. He looks so handsome... I am quite lucky he always taught in his robes or my good marks would have gone out the window. Over the past few days she had been trying to reconcile why she never noticed Severus' appeal before. He was not good looking in the traditional sense, but there was a fire in his eyes and a presence in the way he held himself that she was shocked not to have noticed in the six years she spent at Hogwarts.

Eventually, she had come to realize that she was too busy listening to him as a professor to really see him as a person. However, what she had seen in the last few days made her curious enough to want to know everything else about him. She knew he had a first rate mind, not only a vast knowledge of facts, but a quick wit that put together pieces in ways others could not hope to match, but she was learning just how much was going on under the surface as well. Yes, he had darkness in him, but he also had an indefatigable sense of right. She reckoned this sense had to be stronger than it was in most good wizards for him to have survived so long as a double agent without destroying himself from the inside or turning to darkness for good. And finally, she knew how tortured he was. Haunted by nightmares of what he had seen, plagued with guilt for what he had done, and, she expected, more than a little lost now that he was on the other side of a war he had not expected to survive.

I just want to hold him in my arms and take it all away from him, if only for a moment. After trying to deny it, outthink it, and reason her way out of it, she had finally put it into words. I have feelings for Severus Snape. It wasn't just the allure of his first rate mind, or the smoothness of his chocolate covered voice. It wasn't that he was the best conversationalist she had encountered in a very long time (possibly ever) or that his horrible past had given him an emotional maturity children like Ron and Viktor Krum could only dream of.

It was all of these things and it was none of them. When she distilled all of her emotions down into their basest forms, she was left only with the unshakable certainty that for no tangible reason she felt that he was hers and she wanted to be his. From the moment their eyes met in the boathouse, minutes after Nagini's attack, her instincts had pointed her towards him time and time again. And this was the most frustrating part about it. She could deal with logic. She could deal with facts. What she most certainly had no hope of fighting was the intangible feeling of warmth and rightness she felt spread through her body every time she was near him.

Damn him for making me feel like such a giddy schoolgirl. She sighed to herself as she joined him in the kitchen. "Good morning, Hermione," he said, pulling out a chair for her at the table. "I took the liberty of cooking breakfast this morning. I hope you like pancakes." Speechless, Hermione nodded, not taking her eyes off of him as he placed a delicious looking plate in front of her. After he served himself and sat down, she finally found her voice.

"So, your note said you had something you wished to discuss with me?" He squeezed his lips together, his mouth forming a thin line. She could tell he was searching for the right words to begin. When his eyes settled on her left forearm, still covered by a jumper, she understood why words were evading his grasp. "The portion we had to reopen for Neville's parents is healing quite nicely. With any—"

"It shouldn't have happened," he interrupted suddenly. His voice was soft and quiet, but his words came with so much emotion behind them that he might as well have shouted. She searched his face, finding so much pain in his eyes she felt her own prick with tears. Still trying to create coherent thoughts, he put his hand on top of the table as if to reach towards her arm, but stopped halfway. "I didn't know about it. It wasn't my doing—"

It was her turn to interrupt, "Severus, I know it wasn't—"

"But it's all I can think about. I have endeavored to focus on planning our next list item, but cannot bring myself to any productive state of mind. You have done so much for me. You are…" Everything. He knew how he wanted to end the sentence. I can lie to the face of Voldemort himself but I cannot finish a sentence around a nineteen year old girl. His bitter diatribe against himself was interrupted when Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand. His breathing, thoughts, and possibly his heart froze for a brief moment. When they resumed, an unexpected wave of courage accompanied them.

"You are everything," his silky voice softly accentuated each word. "And I cannot deal with other matters until I fix the one that I feel matters most." And with that, he exhausted the last ounces of his surge of bravery. Not having realized he was speaking with his eyes closed, he opened them and dared a glance up at the face he had been seeing in his dreams every night since the battle. He braced himself for repulsion, but instead found a mix of surprise, wonder, and utmost joy.

Upon hearing his words, Hermione's stomach made an attempt to leap up out of her body. She simultaneously felt like her head was lighter than air and felt a heavy coiling of nerves somewhere deep in her chest. She squeezed his hand while she tried to remember what words were and how to string them together in a sentence. It's not in your head. She finally admitted to herself that the crazy feelings she harbored towards this man might not be as unrequited as she had imagined them to be. Her head reeled with the complex matrix of possibilities she now had to consider.

"Hermione?" Severus' voice was calm, but she had gotten to know him well enough that he might as well have been pleading for her to speak. Seeing her silence cause him pain, she quickly found words.

"I… You… It's part of me now. It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, it's dreadful. But the event has…shaped me. I don't know if I would want to change it." With her words, his expression changed into what she had come to recognize as his thinking face.

"I feel the need to, for the lack of a better word, protect you," he stressed the word as if saying the name of an old, dear friend. "I have to do something." His honesty and openness made her heart ache all the more.

"While I wouldn't want the event erased, I would love not to have the physical scar that resulted. Maybe we could take a day off from our project and try to brew a scar-healing potion strong enough to heal curse scars? If we succeed it might come in handy for you as well." She tried to search his face for a response, but when she still saw his thinking face she added, "a nice, quiet day at home, just the two of us, might actually be quite nice."

Home…just the two of us. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. Somehow she managed to find words that triggered an image of the two of them, years into the future, sharing a house together, sharing a life together. At this moment, he could think of nothing he wanted more. But his years as a spy had trained him well, allowing only the smallest hint of a smile to cross his features. "That would be an acceptable alternative," he reluctantly dropped her hand so they could resume eating.

Hours later, they had expanded the small potions lab Severus had previously conjured to take over the entire guest bedroom. Severus was carefully stirring, while Hermione chopped and diced with great caution. As she diced, an idea began to form. "Severus, how familiar were you with the house elves that served at Hogwarts?"

He didn't look up from the potion, but she could hear his smile through his voice, "I did not found an organization to safeguard their wellbeing, but I was thoroughly aware of their presence."

"You knew about S.P.E.W.?" she asked far too quickly out of embarrassment.

"You would be hard pressed to find something happening inside the gates of Hogwarts of which I was not aware, Hermione. Why do you ask?"

"There is an event from that day I would like to change. That is, if you're still amenable to the idea. Did you ever meet a house elf named Dobby?"

"So when we arrive, I will stop the dagger as you perform a sleeping spell. Are you sure you can make it gradual enough? You mentioned he conversed with Potter before he died. We cannot risk changing that interaction."

"Professor?" she said the word as a playfully sarcastic accusation.

"Yes, right. You are fully capable to—" Her giggle cut him off, causing another oh-so-rare Severus smile to spread across his face. She drew close enough to flip the time turner around both of their necks and they vanished.

Severus and Hermione kneeled on the sand. After cleaning the dirt off of the still magically sleeping house elf, Hermione pointed her wand between his furry ears and muttered the awakening spell. Slowly, the large, bulbous eyes opened and surveyed the two faces peering over him.

"It is not when I think it is, I think," Dobby muttered, his shrill voice slightly wobbly. Hermione cast a questioning look of shock at Severus. "House elves know things," he responded to her unasked question.

"Miss Hermione and Master of Potions saved Dobby?" the little elf asked, attempting to sit up.

"It's a long story, Dobby, but you're safe now," Hermione reassured him, patting his bony shoulder with one hand.

"No, Dobby knows it. Miss and Master of Potions saved Dobby's life! How will I ever repay you?" He was starting to sound like the old Dobby already.

"With your silence, should anyone ask you what happened," Severus volunteered. Having known Dobby for many years as the pesky servant of the Malfoys, he was still not used to interacting with house elves who were not bringing him tea or cleaning house.

"Of course sir. Whatever sir wishes!" Hermione smiled, seeing his personality come back reminded her of simpler times. Times before Voldemort's return.

"You can go to the Burrow for a while to recover. Harry's there. He'll be glad to see you and will explain everything. But you musn't speak of it with anyone other than Harry and the Weasley family. You understand that, Dobby?" Severus marveled at the kindness with which she treated every living thing. Dobby nodded so vigorously his ears flopped against his large eyes, causing him to blink rapidly in defense.

"Thank you for saving Dobby," he said, talking to Hermione, yet staring directly at Severus. Dobby seemed to consider something for a second, then flung himself around one of Severus' legs and hugged him as hard as a creature of his size could. Hermione could barely keep a straight face at the look of panic on Severus' face upon being unexpectedly ambushed with such a display of house elf affection. After the most amusing fifteen seconds of Hermione's life, Dobby drew back, bowed deeply, and vanished into thin air with a loud crack. Hermione turned to Severus, now smiling with pride, not amusement.

"You're a good man, Severus."

"I will never understand your obsession with those creatures," he said with playful affection in his voice. Taking his statement as the compliment she knew it to be, she smiled up at him as they apparated home.

When they got back, the scar potion had, according to Severus, cured properly, and was ready to use. He conjured a squat, wide, open-mouthed jar and poured a portion of the now quite thick potion into it. He carried the jar over to the sofa and gestured for Hermione to join him. She sat down as close to him as she dared, but first pulled her jumper over her head to reveal the grey tank top she was wearing underneath. She extended her forearm towards Severus, who lightly held it in one hand. His other hand reached into the jar and pulled out a glop of the now gelatinous potion. He slowly and gently applied the potion to Hermione's forearm, rubbing in small circles over the inscribed word. They both watched with wonder as first the redness disappeared, then the raising of the text lowered, leaving only a creamy expanse of her now unmarked flesh.

He stopped rubbing, but didn't release her arm. She looked up at him, only to find his eyes already on hers. When they locked eyes, both simultaneously felt the effect of what felt like a strong magnetic force pulling them towards each other. His mouth went dry as her stomach made another attempt to escape out through her chest.

"Hermione," he said her name like a plea, like a prayer. Hearing her name on his lips sent a ripple of electricity through her. She reached up with her free right hand to sweep the hair out of his face. Feeling her touch, he closed his eyes and leaned ever so slightly into her palm. She left her hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find her staring intently into his with a fire he had never seen grace her features.

He was stock still, mesmerized by her gaze, to afraid to move any closer yet unable to pull away. Without breathing, she slowly leaned forward towards him, her hand still on his cheek, her eyes never leaving his. She saw a flash of what she thought was fear on his face, but it was quickly replaced by an intensity that chased all thought from her mind. Her eyes closed at the last minute, and when her lips touched his the ball of energy that had been forming in her ribcage seemed to detonate. The kiss started off slow, tender, almost delicate. She pressed herself into his immobile lips, savoring the way they felt on her own. After a few seconds she pulled back just far enough to gaze into his eyes with her wordless question etched all over her face.

She can't be kissing me. His brain was in hyper drive. He had known what was coming from when her hand came to rest on his cheek. As she moved in toward him, every mental facility he had was working full speed to deny what was happening, think of some other plausible explanation, but when her lips touched his time froze. He could feel every nerve in his body, every sense focused on the beautiful young witch before him. He smelled her lavender scent, he felt the soft fullness of her lips pressing into his, and most of all, he felt the perfect smoothness of her skin. He didn't dare to move, lest his last particle of restraint crumble and he do something to scare her away. And then she did pull away, but not in disgust as he feared. He opened his eyes to find hers. He did not have to use legilimancy to hear the desire with which her eyes were crying out to him. Another few seconds of pause, he stared into her eyes, listening to her silent plea for him to kiss her back, and his last portion of self control finally evaporated.

His hands were suddenly around her lower back as he crushed her lips back to his. She felt the pit of her stomach respond as he poured every bit of sadness he had suffered, every anguished lonely night, every horrible childhood memory, and every terrified hope for the future into that kiss. Her lips moved seamlessly with his as his right hand moved up to knot itself into her messy brown curls, pressing her lips even more firmly to his own. She pressed her body into his, finally able to express the longing she had felt building since she first saw him slouched on the floor of the boathouse. She had searched for days for a way to show him how much she cared for him. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pressing herself to his chest, she was not wasting a second of this chance.

After what could have been only minutes or hours on end, the kiss slowed to an intensely passionate simmer. The bedrock of her entire existence seemed to have shifted permanently. She slowly pulled back once more, staring into his eyes for some hint of what would come next. He delicately put his hand to her face and tucked one of the loose tendrils of her hair back behind her ear. They stared at each other, speechlessly reveling in the incontrovertible evidence that the longing they had each felt building for so long had finally been proved mutual. After so much build up, so much desire, and having finally experienced what Hermione now realized to be the first real kiss in her life, something finally snapped inside her and she let out an involuntary giggle. Hearing her laugh, Severus closed his eyes as if listening to the climax of a symphony.

"Did you know your laugh is the best sound in the world?"

It was all she could do not to kiss him again. Instead, she curled her head into the crook of his shoulder and murmured her thanks into the folds of his shirt. Arms still around her, Severus leaned back onto the deep pillows behind him and carefully stretched his feet onto the coffee table. Head not leaving his chest, Hermione stretched her legs across the vacant end of the sofa. As she snuggled into him, he planted a tender kiss into the hair on the top of her head. He heard her almost purr in response as she burrowed into his chest. Her breathing soon changed as she fell into a much-needed sleep, but Severus remained awake until the fire in the hearth turned to embers, marveling in the miracle of the beautiful witch asleep on his chest and stroking her thick curls as she slept. When sleep finally claimed him, he slept dreamlessly and well for the first time in over two decades.