A/N - I know, I've been gone for so long...I apologise, and hope that, this, the final chapter/epilogue, will go towards apologising for that. :) Enjoy.
Chapter 14 (incl. Epilogue) – Boy
"Can you believe it's finally over?" Hannah asked as she gave Hermione a hug. "One more hour and we'll be out in the real world, fending for ourselves..."
Graduation was upon the Seventh Years. Hermione forced a smile as she returned the Hufflepuff girl's embrace. "It's sort of daunting, really," she admitted. "I know how to excel in school, but excelling in life? It's a different thing altogether, isn't it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about; of all of us, I'm sure you're going to be one of the most successful." Hannah's brown hair swished about her face as she shook her head. "Today should be about celebrating the end of school, not mourning it."
Ron chose that moment to interrupt the conversation, swinging his arm around his best friend's shoulders and squeezing her lovingly as he addressed the other girl. "You do know who you're talkin' to, don't you, Hannah?" He laughed, "It's 'Mione. Possibly the most bookish bookworm to walk these hallowed halls; 'course she doesn't want to leave."
Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Thanks, Ron."
Hannah shrugged. "Whatever. I'm just glad to have it all over and done with." She looked around the Great Hall, scanning for like-minded people to sit with for the Leaving Ceremony. "Oh! Look, there's Lavender, if you'll excuse me..." She didn't even spare them a backwards glance as she bounded off towards the other Gryffindor girl.
The Head Girl sighed. "I'm a freak, aren't I?" She asked, her tone laced with melancholy. "You're all happy to be rid of this place, and I'm afraid to let go."
"Nah," the red-headed boy squeezed her again, "you're not a freak. You wouldn't be you if you wanted to get out of here quick smart. "
"That really didn't answer the question, though..."
Ron was about to respond when Harry and Greg made their way over. He seemed glad for the distraction, not really wanting to see Hermione depress herself any further. "And where've the two of you, been, then? Ceremony's set to start in ten." At their shared look, and Harry's blush, he crinkled his face. "On second thoughts, don't answer that."
"Oh, grow up, Ron," Harry laughed, his blush getting even darker. "Shove over, will you?"
The two Gryffindors already seated shuffled over to make way for the new comers. Hermione craned her neck to scan the hall. "And, though I dread the answer, where's Draco, then, if the two of you were off somewhere private? I'd assumed he was with you."
The three boys seated around her also started looking around, as though expecting the blond menace to materialise at the mere mention of his name.
"No idea," Greg eventually responded. "I'd thought he'd be irritatin' you by now..."
"Evidently not..." Hermione shrugged. "Oh well, on his own head be it."
"Oi, I resent that," the blond in question said as he sauntered over. "I was off sayin' goodbye to Pansy and Blaise. You're not my keepers, you know."
The Gryffindor girl laughed and gestured at the seat beside her. "Thank Merlin for that; I'd be prematurely grey by now if that were the case."
He rolled his eyes, "You can be such a cow sometimes, Mudblood."
"And you can be such a drama queen, Ferret."
"Ah, but that's why you love me."
"You keep telling yourself that."
She and Draco had gradually become close friends over the remainder of the school year, bonding over shared interests and, surprisingly, a shared sense of humour. After she'd openly forgiven the two Slytherins for their actions earlier on in the year, he'd become more and more flirtatious, despite her continued refusal to be anything other than friends. Half the time, his amorousness was exaggerated and only intended in jest, simply to keep them both amused, but, on numerous occasions when they were alone, Draco had made it clear that he would seriously be open to a casual relationship between them. Though his antics amused her, those moments when he'd seriously proposition her would often leave her in two minds; he was terribly attractive, and there was a spark between them...but he was now such a close friend that she'd hate to ruin that by succumbing to her hormones. Besides, she still ached for Severus and some part of her held on to the foolish idea that, once she graduated, he would come for her and they'd work things out properly. She didn't want to balls that chance up by buggering around with Malfoy. Again.
At the thought of her ex-lover, she fought the urge to look up at the staff table and see him sitting there, glaring down at her with disdain. How she had longed to visit him during the term! To sit and have tea and argue over the latest theories in their favourite Potions journals. To see how he was faring. To make sure he wasn't drinking himself into an early grave. But she hadn't done any of those things. She wondered if Harry had been right all those months ago; had she been too cowardly? Should she have tried to mend things when she had the chance?
No. She'd told Severus to come and find her when he'd made up his mind. The ball was in his court, now. She was far too stubborn to go against her own word. Besides, knowing the Head of Slytherin like she did, she knew that he was also stubborn, and wouldn't have appreciated her continued meddling.
So she would wait for him. She just hoped that he wouldn't take too long to come for her. If he ever did, of course...
She was startled from her thoughts by the Headmaster casting a Sonorous charm and beginning the Leaving Ceremony. Things seemed to go extraordinarily quickly from there, and, before she knew it, she was accepting her diploma from Professor McGonagall, shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore, and then being thrown in front of the student body to give the annual Heads speech with Gregory. For a moment, she'd thought that her memory would fail her, but after Greg had said his piece, her speech flowed easily from her lips. She thanked her fellow Seventh Years for their friendship, applauded them for their bravery and dedication for their efforts during the War, said a piece for their fallen classmates, and then wished everyone the best for whatever the future would bring. The Hall erupted into applause as she and Greg wandered back to their seats.
After it was all over, and the majority of students moved towards their dorms for their last night in the Castle, she heard her name being called and turned to face the Headmaster.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"
His eyes twinkled at her merrily. "I was wondering, dear girl, if you could spare some time for tea?"
She'd actually been looking forward to drinking some butterbeer with her peers in the Gryffindor Commons, but knew that refusing Albus Dumbledore was not a particularly clever idea. She offered him a small smile. "Of course, Professor."
-?-
"Albus, what on earth have you summoned me for, now?" Severus grumbled as he entered the Headmaster's office. "I'm in the middle of packing the-" He stopped short at the sight of Hermio-Miss Granger. She had the look of a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of a Muggle automobile. "Just what is the meaning of this?" He asked. "Haven't you tortured me with her presence enough?"
Albus didn't even bat an eyelid. "Tea, Severus?"
"No, I will not have tea. I want to know what you're trying to achieve. I've already tendered my resignation, what more do you want from me?"
The elderly wizard sighed. "I apologise, my dears, but I thought you'd been getting along splendidly this year...then, following Easter, you stopped speaking to one another...and I wanted to do what I could to mend that rift before Miss Granger left the premises."
"There's nothing to mend." Snape spat.
"Come, now, Severus, I know that's not the case..." Albus shook his head sadly. "I can't presume to know what happened over the last holidays, but the two of you were so noticeably happy together, and I-"
"What do you mean, 'together'?" Hermione eventually asked, sheer mortification threading its way through her veins.
"Why, your relationship, my girl. The sorting hat was right; the pair of you are quite well matched..."
"Relationship?" Hermione was bright red. He couldn't possibly know...could he? "I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken, Professor Dumbledore."
"Oh, pish. I know young love when I see it." He gave her a knowing look. "Please, sit, Severus."
Stunned that his employer had been aware of their tryst and hadn't terminated his employment, the Slytherin complied with the request, dropping into the seat beside his ex-lover in silence.
Hermione, on the other hand, was floundering to make sense of what she was being told. "Hang on a second...you're saying you knew that Sev...Professor Snape and I were...er...involved...and you didn't fire him? This doesn't make any sense."
"Why, my dear child, it was my plan all along to see the two of you happy. As for his employment, Severus was no longer your teacher. Add to that the adjustments I made to the school charter-"
"You orchestrated it all?" Hermione was flabbergasted. Her Headmaster had been playing matchmaker the entire time. She felt ill; was nobody in this school above manipulating her? "But, I thought you were just trying to get him to quit."
The elderly wizard smiled at her. "Not everything is as it seems, Miss Granger." He turned to Severus, now, who was still sitting in stunned silence, taking in the information and trying to make sense of it. "Severus, my boy, I did want you to leave, but not for the reasons you think. You've wasted your youth here, as a spy and as a teacher. I believed you deserved better than a future consisting of solitude, locking yourself away in the dungeons...And, knowing Miss Granger's fondness for you-"
"What? How could you have known..." Hermione began to interrupt, before spying the Sorting Hat, sitting innocently on the shelf above his desk. The very same hat she'd put back on her head at the end of Sixth year, when Dumbledore had told her it was all a part of the process for Head Girl and Boy selection. "Oh."
The Headmaster shot her an apologetic glance. She still felt violated. "I believed that Miss Granger would be the perfect person to bring you out of the drab dungeon and back to life, so to speak." He sighed. "And you seemed to both be happy with the arrangement...not in public, of course, but in private-"
"No," Severus spoke suddenly and with vehemence. He rose from his seat, his anger palpable. "No, I will not listen to this any longer."
"Severus," Albus attempted, his tone apologetic, "I-"
"I will not listen to this!" The former Potions Master swept from the room in a flurry of black robes, slamming the door behind him.
The Headmaster turned to Hermione, but she, too, was standing, shaking with rage. "I trusted you," she spoke softly, "we all did. How wrong we were..." She shook her head and followed in Severus' wake, leaving Albus Dumbledore to his thoughts.
-?-
Hermione spent that night curled up on the couch in the Heads' common room, crying onto Draco's shoulder. He'd listened to the entire sordid story as she tried to make sense of the information the Headmaster had given her. He'd known things he shouldn't have known. How? Had the portraits told him? Just how much had Dumbledore orchestrated? And what did he think he would have achieved by telling them so? She felt all the more foolish now for unconsciously following his little scheme, and her heart ached because she knew that Severus would feel just as silly, even more so, which would only make him angrier. She doubted he'd be coming to talk to her about it any time soon.
For his part, Severus was ropable. Once more he'd been nothing more than a pawn for the Headmaster; a toy with which to amuse himself. The older Slytherin had been a few steps ahead of him the entire time, and he felt foolish for behaving exactly as the old man had known he would. Worse, still, he was angry because, if not for Dumbledore's meddling, Miss Granger would never have entered his life in the capacity which she had during the year. Even now, images of her came unbidden to his mind, naked, splayed out on his bed, a beaming smile on her face for simply being with him. He threw the closest breakable object at the wall with a cry of anger. It was one thing to use him, but the Headmaster had also violated her by using her private thoughts against her, putting her on a path of emotional destruction with a man twice her age. It didn't matter that that awful hat had been correct, that they were well matched on some levels; she deserved a younger man, a boy, who would spoil her with flowers and gifts, take her out on youthful dates, fumble towards a happy future together. A relationship with him, a snarky old ex-spy, wouldn't be socially acceptable, especially not in the Muggle world where she half-lived, and he would never be able to offer her the life a younger man like Malfoy could.
These were thoughts that had plagued him for months now, and each time he had the same spiralling argument with himself. It didn't matter that he'd been happy with her; she deserved better. But she loved him and he...Merlin damn it all, he loved her. But he couldn't give her the life she deserved...Argh! It was the same argument, over and over. He threw another vase at the wall.
He wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for that meddling old fool! He'd never have known about the passion, beauty and love she had to offer...that he had to give up...if not for that awful, infuriating old man.
More glassware shattered against the stone walls of the castle.
At least, he decided when his temper had faded somewhat, it seemed that his packing wouldn't take quite as long as he'd anticipated.
-?-
"Oh, wow, Draco, it's beautiful..." Hermione gasped as they apparated into Malfoy's Swiss chalet.
He laughed. "You said the same thing about the French cottage," he reminded her, summoning an elf to take their luggage.
"And don't forget the Australian beach house," supplied Ron, who had, as Draco had promised, also been invited, along with Greg and Harry.
As though on cue, Greg was next to add, "And the apartment in New York..."
Before Harry could also make mention of yet another of Draco's properties, Hermione laughed, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Allright, fine, I'm predictable. Sue me."
"It is lovely, though," Harry said, taking in the idyllic vision in front of them. It was brick and majestic, snow capping its roof and windowsills, soft light pouring from the windows, looking much like something one would find in a travel brochure or on a cheesy Muggle TV Christmas special. He leant towards his boyfriend and wrapped his arm around his waist. "I think I should like one of these for myself."
"Pretty sure you've said that about all the other properties, too." Hermione stuck out her tongue at him.
"Shut up," he said, poking his tongue back at her.
"Okay, children, let's stop bickering and make our way inside," the blond boy interrupted, moving towards the front door. "Ladies first," he said, stepping aside and gesturing for Ron to go first.
The red head glowered at him, and allowed Hermione to walk in in his stead. "Pillock," the Weasley responded.
A squeal from Hermione had the boys rushing in after her. "Wow," Harry said, taking in the Happy Birthday, Hermione banner and fairy lights set up in the lounge room above a pile of gifts. "I knew it was going to be good, Malfoy, but you've outdone yourself."
Goyle was already helping himself to the spread of party food that Draco had instructed his elves to provide on their arrival. "Yeah, Drake, you've done well."
"You mean you organised all of this?" Hermione turned to face the four boys, pleasantly surprised and touched that they'd do such a thing. They nodded in unison, and she felt herself choke up. "But...my birthday's not 'til the nineteenth. It's only the first."
"Yeah, but you're leaving at the end of this week to go to uni, so we thought we'd throw you a party while we had the chance," Ron said, his mouth full of food, so that she had to concentrate hard to make sense of what he'd said.
"Oh," she raced towards them, her arms extended for a group hug. "Come here, then." She embraced them all at once, squeezing as tightly as she could. "Thank you," she said, closing her eyes to ward off tears. "I...this is wonderful. Thank you."
They broke apart with laughter and jokes to dispel the awkwardness of such an emotional moment, then proceeded to argue over which gifts she should unwrap first.
-?-
Hermione stared at the Wizarding photograph of her birthday party –kindly taken by a house elf so that all five of them could be in the picture- and sighed sadly. She was seated at her desk in her private dormitory, having elected to study Potions and Charms at the Wizarding University of London, and, though her friends all lived within apparating distance, she felt so distanced from them. It had been two weeks since she'd left the others, and, now that it was her actual birthday, she missed them even more. They'd all fire-called to wish her Happy Birthday, and to organise drinks for that evening at the Leaky Cauldron, but she still missed the intimacy of spending every day together. Or perhaps she missed spending every day with them because it had been a welcome distraction from the thought of Severus. Either way, she felt lonely and morose. As it was a Saturday she didn't have any classes, so that wasn't helping her mood, either. At least during the week she could concentrate on her lessons, both practical and theory, but, sitting here alone in her room, she couldn't bring herself to focus on studying. Perhaps she should head down to the library on campus and explore it properly? After all, she hadn't really had a chance to do so yet and the thought did cheer her up some.
Putting on her sneakers, she tied the laces, grabbed her purse and her room key (she required both the key and the password to enter her dormitory), and opened the door, only to find a gift at her feet. She looked down the hall, to the left and the right, searching for whoever had left the package, as it was odd to receive things by Muggle means on campus; post owls were far more common. Whoever had left the gift, though, was long gone and she shrugged and stooped to pick it up, taking it back inside and shutting the door once more.
There was no card on the outside of the package, which immediately made her somewhat suspicious. Unsheathing her wand, she searched the parcel for any unwanted charms or hexes. She couldn't detect any, but tried once more to be certain. When the next scan also failed to show anything unusual, she set about unwrapping the gift with all the finesse of a five year old.
It was a rag doll.
But not just any rag doll; this one had dark hair, dark eyes and was wearing a very distinct outfit. One that Hermione had designed herself at Christmas.
"Sophia..." she murmured, running her hand through woollen black locks of hair.
Heart racing, doll clutched tightly to her chest, Hermione raced from her room and down the hall, towards the nearest apparition point. There was a lump lodged in her throat and her eyes stung with the promise of unshed tears, but she raced on, not to be deterred. She was certain she must have looked strange running through the uni clutching a doll like a lifeline, but she didn't care. As far as she knew, there was only one person in the world that could have retrieved the doll from Hogwarts without being questioned, and she had to find him.
-?-
Severus was startled from his reading by an incessant knocking at the front door of his Manor. It had to be someone he'd keyed into the wards, because he'd already upped security measures and the alarms hadn't gone off. Whoever it was had better have had a good excuse for bothering him.
He made his way to the entrance hall, grumbling as the knocking still hadn't ceased. When he swung open the door, all curses died on his tongue.
"What on earth?"
Hermione was standing on his doorstep, clutching a doll and crying openly. She flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
He took a step backwards and tried to extricate himself from her embrace; they hadn't parted on particularly good terms, and he wasn't certain what had gotten into her if she thought she could just appear on his doorstep and cuddle him as though they were still seeing one another.
"Honestly, woman, get a hold of yourself," he said, trying to pry her arms away.
Something in his tone seemed to snap her out of...whatever it was that had caused her to behave as she had...and she took a step back. "You...you didn't leave this for me?" She asked, holding the doll out for his inspection.
"As I have no idea what you are blathering on about, no."
"Oh." Oh no. "Oh...Oh my God...I'm so sorry! I just...Sophia...my birthday...I just assumed..." She wiped the tears from her eyes and fought against her rising hysteria. "I'm so sorry, Professor...I'm just going to go now..."
Severus was confused and, as such, wasn't about to let her go until he had all the facts. "I think not. In fact, I think you're going to sit down, have a Calming Draught, and explain yourself properly." His tone told her that she would have no choice in the matter.
Clutching the doll tightly against her chest, she followed him mutely towards the lounge room, noticing the amount of work he had done to fix the manor. It was astoundingly beautiful, nothing like the dilapidated ruins that had greeted her last year. The grief and hysteria threatened to bubble over again when she realised that he definitely hadn't left Sophia at her dormitory door.
A potion vial was thrust under her nose, a curt "Drink," prompting her into action.
She swallowed the liquid with a grimace, before feeling it start to take effect, immediately calming her and allowing her think rationally again.
"Thank you," she said softly, taking a seat across from the one he'd already chosen. When he didn't speak, she felt it prudent for her to explain herself and apologise properly. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day, Professor. I wasn't thinking rationally. You see, it's my birthday..." she closed her eyes and willed herself to remain calm. Thankfully, the potion was still at work, which made it easier. She sighed. "It's my birthday, and I received this mysterious parcel –no card, no note- and, after checking it for hexes, I opened it to find this." She showed him the doll.
He arched an eyebrow. "Indeed. And you travelled all the way here in tears to show me because?"
She felt her cheeks colour, and hated herself for not thinking things through. "I'd hoped...I mean, I sort of assumed that it was from you." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "I know, foolish Gryffindor, right?" She averted her gaze. "I've spent the last few months trying desperately hard not to think of you. Then this appears and I...I don't know...I thought it was a sign that you'd changed your mind. Obviously, I was wrong. I was stupid, and wrong, and now I'll go away." She rose from her seat. "I'm sorry, Professor."
He watched her stand and, as it had been for months on end, the voice in his head started up on him again. This may well be your last chance, Snape. Handle this incorrectly and she might be gone for good.
"Let's see it, then."
She blinked down at him. "What?"
"The doll. The reason for this whole debacle. Let's see it."
He was well aware that he was essentially repeating words he'd used many, many months earlier, when the project had been thrust upon her, upon them, and he waited for her response.
She blinked again, realising that he was, essentially, offering her a chance to start all over again. "Right," she said, tossing him the doll, "not very lifelike anymore."
He took in the dark hair and dark eyes of the doll, the little stitched smirk on its material face, the cute little Slytherin outfit it wore, and just remembered.
Hermione, here, in this mansion, chasing a naked toddler who refused to be bathed. Hermione, putting the very same toddler to bed, then taking his hand and leading him towards the room they'd shared. Hermione, telling him that she'd like to have children with him, that he'd make a wonderful father. Holding her as she'd cried, thinking they'd lost that very opportunity...
And he came to the realisation that, in trying to push her towards a future he thought she deserved, he'd put an end to what they'd both wanted. The little voice in his head that he'd argued with for months was blessedly silent; apparently, he'd come to the correct conclusion this time.
He set the doll aside. "You say someone sent this to you?"
She nodded.
"And you thought it was me?"
She nodded again. "Obviously, though, it wasn't." She appeared thoughtful. "Whoever it was had to have been at Hogwarts and have had access to the dolls...had to have known what that doll meant to me...what it really symbolised..."
"Albus." He said simply.
"Dumbledore." She agreed. "Meddling old fool."
He smirked at her. "Indeed."
-?-
"So, this is where I'm currently squirreled away..." Hermione said, letting Severus into her dorm at uni. As he inspected the small flat, she closed the door behind her and felt giddy.
They'd talked all afternoon, first making vicious comments about the Headmaster that had made them both feel immeasurably better about everything, and then slowly, tentatively discussed all the things that had gone horribly wrong between them. Eventually, Severus had suggested that he escort her back home, and she had agreed, just glad that he hadn't kicked her out of his Manor at first sight that morning.
Now she was showing him her living arrangements, answering questions about her chosen courses and how well she was liking the work so far. It seemed so strange and yet so right to have him there, in her personal space, flicking through her text books; as though this was how it should have been all along. He sat on the corner of her bed and reached for the photo on her desk, the same one she'd been inspecting that morning. He frowned as picture-Malfoy leant across and kissed picture-Hermione on the cheek.
"May I ask you a personal question?" He asked, not wanting to, but feeling as though he needed to know the answer all the same.
"What happened between Draco and I after school?"
He looked up at her and nodded, bracing himself for her response. After all, her tryst with the boy at school had caused a great deal of trouble, and he wasn't about to go back into any relationship without knowing what he was stepping back in to.
She took a deep breath and sat beside him. "We decided that we'd be better off as just friends." She said, toying with a loose thread on the quilt cover. "Having sex with him is like having sex with a brother...if I had a brother...So, the one time we actually did attempt anything...well, we didn't really get far..." She shrugged, "There hasn't been anyone else. I was always hoping that you'd change your mind and come looking for me...Nobody else will do, really."
Severus sat in silence for a moment, taking that in.
Mortified that she'd said too much, afraid that he'd think she was trying to rush him, Hermione quickly tried to explain. "Not that I'm expecting you to still want a relationship or anything now that we're talking again...I just...Oh, fuck it." She gave up on trying to be respectful and threw caution to the wind, claiming his lips in a searing kiss.
He didn't have to think about it. His hand snaked out and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She ended up in his lap, her hands running through his hair, one of his on her arse, the other fondling her breast through her sweater.
"Oh, Merlin," she breathed when they parted for air, "Severus...please..."
"Please what?" he asked, a large, insistent part of him hoping that she wasn't about to suggest they take things slowly this time around. That really hadn't worked the last time around, if he recalled correctly. In trying to tiptoe around each other's feelings, he'd pushed her away. Before that, when they'd been passionate, things had been wonderful.
He didn't have to worry, as her thoughts seemed to be on the same wavelength as his own. Seated in his lap, she ground herself against his arousal. "Make love to me. Make things right again."
He was throbbing with the need to do just that, but the logical part of his brain still wanted him to be one hundred percent certain that he wasn't making a huge mistake. "Are you absolutely certain, Hermione?" He asked, his eyes boring into hers. She noticed that they were even darker than usual, and her heart hammered away with a thousand emotions.
"It's my birthday, Severus, and I have the man I've lusted after for the last two years here on my bed, and I'm aching for him to take me. I'm certain. Now hurry up and do something about it."
He swallowed and shifted as she continued to writhe on top of him. "With everything that's happened between us, don't you think it prudent to discuss it first?" Merlin, he sounded like a fifteen year old girl.
She groaned, but realised that it was obviously important for him to know that she wasn't going to expect everything to be all roses again just because they'd slept together. "Okay, let's discuss it. I love you. I'm in love with you. We've been through a lot and, though we've got a lot to work through, right now I want you desperately, and I'm pretty certain you want me. You don't have to promise me forever, just the next few hours, okay?"
Knowing that she would have no grand delusions of a perfect relationship when the afterglow had faded, he nodded and pulled her in for another kiss, his hands already moving underneath her shirt to divest her of her bra. "Okay," he agreed.
-?-
Surprisingly, the boys had understood when she'd turned up two hours late to her own birthday celebration at the Leaky Cauldron, a shameless grin etched across her face. Draco had teased her mercilessly about clearly ditching them for some shag against a wall somewhere and asked why he hadn't been invited, but had been dumbstruck when she'd responded:
"Oh, the wall, the bed, the shower...Severus is insatiable, but I doubt he'd have appreciated your presence."
Then they'd bombarded her with questions: when had they started seeing each other again? Why had he changed his mind? Why hadn't she told them sooner? And she'd tried to answer each one, but had eventually given up and told them the entire story that had eventually led to him taking her home and shagging her senseless.
Each boy had congratulated her, though Harry and Ron told her to be careful as they didn't want to see her feelings hurt again. She thanked them for their concern, but secretly felt as though the worst was over. If they'd survived what they had, there was very little left that could ruin things now.
-?-
"No, you plastic piece of shit...No. No. No. No." Hermione threw the third Muggle pregnancy test in the bin, and wiped the tears from her face. Severus would be by soon, and she didn't need him to know that she'd been crying.
Things had been going really well for two years now, and she thought they couldn't have been happier. Her parents had taken to her former Professor turned boyfriend quite well, considering he was her Mum's age and a whole six years younger than her Dad, and they'd gotten along quite famously, though Severus and Hermione had told them that they'd met again after she'd started Uni and had decided to give things a go after a few coffees at the local cafe discussing Potions coursework, assuring them that, when they'd been Professor-Student there'd most certainly been nothing untoward. Her parents, trusting naive souls, had bought every word, and so Hermione and Severus were extremely careful not to mention anything of her last year of school that would prove otherwise. Not that they really thought about those days anymore; they'd worked through the issues that had arisen, all their fears of mistrust obliterated through months of talking it through. Severus had even attempted to socialise with her friends, something which astounded her to this very day, as she'd been certain that he'd attempt to hex Malfoy on the spot whenever they met.
Then Harry had announced that he was pregnant. Hermione hadn't been surprised, really, considering how touchy-feely he and Greg were, but when she'd been named Godmother, and had held their baby boy in her arms, she'd gotten clucky.
And so, when her period had been late, she'd rushed out to get a few Muggle tests to confirm her suspicions.
Each one had read negative.
She knew that she should be glad that she wasn't pregnant. She was only twenty one, for Merlin's sake, and only a third of the way through her dual Masters degree. She had years to go before she should even start thinking of starting a family.
But, oh, she'd felt so excited for a moment there, already imagining Severus' glee...
She swallowed the lump in her throat and incinerated the evidence, before washing her face and getting ready to face the day.
For all her efforts, though, Severus immediately noticed that there was something wrong when she opened the door to greet him.
"Are you unwell?" he asked, reaching out his hand to cup her face. "You look pale."
"And hello to you to," she attempted to joke, offering him a watery grin.
He frowned. "Hermione, what's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Honest." She sighed as he walked into her room and sat down, watching her. "I thought you were taking me out for lunch." She tried to sound flirtatious and chirpy, but it came out a bit flat.
"You don't seem to be yourself today and you know how I feel about secrets."
"I've told you, really, there's nothing wrong. It's probably just PMS or something. Now, come on, I'm starving..." she tried once more to convince him she was fine.
He scowled and folded his arms. "I'm not a cretin, Granger, and if you insist on lying to me directly to my face, I'm not going to take it."
She didn't want to fight, but, at the same time, she didn't want to tell him that she was upset because he hadn't gotten her pregnant. Sighing, she stood in front of him and reached for his hands, which he reluctantly gave to her. "Honestly, Sev, I'm fine. I'm tired, and I suppose I'm in a bit of a mood, but there's nothing wrong with me, and I'm not lying to you. I promise."
He stared into her eyes for a moment, then, seemingly convinced, he nodded. "Alright."
Something about his expression told her that he wasn't entirely convinced, though, and she resolved to try and get out of the funk she was in as soon as possible.
-?-
Severus groaned and arched up from the bed, delighted in being woken this way. He glanced down to see the familiar mop of curly hair obscuring Hermione's face and its current occupation. Clearly, her mood from the previous day had passed if this wake-up call was anything to judge by.
He reached towards her and pulled her up to his level. "Good morning," he said, kissing her to convey just how good he thought the morning was so far. "Was there something you wanted, then, hmm?"
She smiled coyly, her hand resuming the job her tongue had started, and he groaned again, reaching to assist her out of her underwear. "Woman, the things you do to me..."
Satisfied that he'd completed his primary task, he reached for his wand, only barely noticing her expression shift as he did so. Her hand had also hesitated.
Suddenly, he was alert, and not quite as aroused.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She plastered on a smile and attempted to continue as though nothing had changed. He grasped her wrist, halting her ministrations.
"Don't give me that 'nothing' rubbish," he said, his tone as calm as he could possibly keep it. "You're not yourself recently, Hermione, and that little display just proved it."
"Little display?" She echoed, choosing to feign ignorance. "What are you talking about?"
"You hesitated," he stated, knowing very well that she understood what he was talking about, "and when I reached for my wand you looked..." he searched for the right word, "disappointed? Frustrated, even."
"I don't know what-"
"Add to that the 'mood' you were in yesterday," he continued, cutting her off, "and I'm convinced you're hiding something from me. Now, I will ask you again, what's going on?"
He'd been prepared for tears, but not for her ire. "You want to know what's wrong? I'm not pregnant, that's what's wrong!" she huffed, leaping from the bed and slamming the bathroom door behind her.
It took him a moment to catch up.
"What?!"
She was upset because she wasn't pregnant. When had he ever mentioned her being pregnant in the first place?
Stealing up to the door, he attempted to talk her into opening it and discussing this non-revelation with him. "Hermione," he tried, his tone gentle, "Love, open the door..."
"No."
He took a deep, calming breath. "Please?"
He never begged.
There was a moment of silence before he felt her wards come down. She opened the door and peered out at him. Neither spoke for a moment.
"Can I, er, come in?" He asked. She regarded him silently. "Or you could come back out?" He offered.
In the face of his earnest expression, Hermione suddenly felt quite foolish. She sighed and nodded, accepting his hand and allowing him to lead her back to his bed. She sat down on it and refused to meet his gaze, still not speaking.
"Are you going to try to explain any of this, or do I have to guess?" His tone was gentle, and it was nearly her undoing.
She almost preferred him when he was surly.
"Hermione," he tried again when she still failed to respond, crouching in front of her and tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't make me use Legilimancy; it's not something I've had to revert to for a number of years now, and I'd prefer to keep things that way."
She swallowed, knowing that he would eventually lose patience and force his way into her thoughts if she didn't suck it up and be honest with him. "I want a baby." The words tumbled from her mouth in rapid succession and she averted her gaze as much as she could, feeling vulnerable and foolish.
He blinked. Then blinked again. And once more for something different, opening and then shutting his mouth, not entirely certain as to how he should respond.
"A baby?" He eventually repeated, in a tone that suggested he thought his hearing might be playing up.
She sighed and nodded. "Our baby," she clarified, smiling ever so slightly at the thought, brief memories of her Seventh year filtering through her head.
"But you're not pregnant."
Considering that she'd yelled those very words at him earlier, she didn't feel the need to repeat them. "No."
He was still floundering. "And you haven't been." He paused, gauging her reaction. "Correct?"
It was her turn to blink in stunned surprise. "What?" She asked. "How could...You don't think it's something I might have mentioned by now?" At the expression the flickered across his face, she scowled and shuffled backwards on the bed, trying to put distance between them. "You seriously think that after that fiasco, I'd keep something like that from you? That I'd be able to go through an actual miscarriage without telling you?"
"What?" Alright, how had he managed to ruin the conversation so horribly? "No! Of course not! You've just taken me a bit by surprise, that's all..."
She watched him wearily, as though trying to assess how honest he was being.
"It's certainly not the sort of conversation I'd expect to have so early on a Saturday morning," he continued, reaching for her hands. She held them out and he slowly pulled her back to the edge of the bed and sat beside her, looping an arm around her waist.
Deciding that he was being completely genuine, Hermione sighed and relaxed against his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. "I know, and I'm sorry...I hadn't meant to tell you at all..."She paused, "Not that I'd intended on tricking you into getting me pregnant or anything like that, I just..."
"Had hoped to quell your maternal impulses for a while longer?" He supplied.
"Exactly." She closed her eyes. "But...every time I see little Anthony," she admitted, speaking of Harry and Greg's son, "I want one of our own even more..." She opened her eyes and tilted her head to look up at her lover. "I know, I'm still so young, and I've still got four years of uni left, and I haven't even asked you how you feel about the idea...but I can't help it."
Severus hugged her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. "I do believe I've told you my thoughts on the subject before," he said softly.
She furrowed her brow. "When? The only time I've mentioned it before was...oh." And she remembered it, then, standing in this very home, in this very room, on their way to a Weasley family Christmas, Sophia having clutched at him and called him Daddy mere moments before.
"My feelings haven't changed," he assured her, "though, I would prefer to do things properly."
"Properly?" She echoed, arching an eyebrow.
He sighed. "I was going to leave it until Christmas," it was mid-November, "considering your penchant for making the yuletide season increasingly sappy..." He got up and walked to the wardrobe, furrowed about in a draw, then returned and sat beside her, "However, now is as good a time as any."
"For what, Severus?" She asked, thoroughly perplexed.
"Hermione, I...I'm not particularly adept at grand sweeping gestures of love, or romantic speeches, but...would you give your hand to me in Marriage?" He extended an open ring box towards her, studying her expression intently.
"Oh," she breathed, looking between his face and the ring in amazed wonder. It was all very out of character for him to make such a gesture on impulse, though he had said he was planning on doing so at Christmas anyway...
"Hermione?" He prompted, having expected an answer by now.
"This isn't just because I want a baby, is it?" She asked in return.
As far as he was aware, proposals weren't generally supposed to be so complicated. She was supposed to have swooned and kissed him and declared an unwavering "Yes" by now. He began to retract the ring. "Of course it isn't," he answered frostily. "I'd already purchased the ring, for one, without knowing about any of that, and asked your father for his blessing, and had planned an elaborate get up to do this at Christmas..." He stood up, feeling rejected and hating himself for being such a fool. "Just...forget I even asked."
"Oh, no, Severus...please...I wasn't saying no..." She lunged for him and attempted to push him back towards the bed. "I just wanted to make sure that you weren't asking me out of any sort of misplaced sense of chivalry or what not."
"What's there to be chivalrous about?" He responded, still sounding a little bitter at the apparent rejection. "You'd already confirmed that you hadn't yet conceived, and it's not as though I've had any concerns about bedding you before wedlock for the last few years..."
"Well, you did say you wanted to do this properly...and I just thought that you might be proposing because I want a baby and you won't have one outside of marriage..."
"Because I've been known to do everything by the book."
"Oh, there's no need to be sarcastic," she smiled at his smirk. "I love you, Severus, and I do want to marry you, as long as it's only because you want to marry me." She paused and recalled something else he'd said. "You actually asked my father for his blessing? You have to let me see that memory in a pensieve!"
Severus rolled his eyes, but reached for the ring box again anyway. "You're going to be the death of me," he said, extending it towards her once more.
She laughed, "What a romantic proposal," she teased, sliding the ring onto her finger and marvelling as it adjusted itself to fit perfectly. "It's beautiful, Severus." She told him, this time entirely serious as she leant forward and kissed him.
He smirked and deepened the kiss; if there was one thing he was certain about when it came to marriage proposals, it was the intensity of the lovemaking that followed.
-?-
They married in a quiet ceremony on the third of January. Hermione had invited only her closest friends, pleading with Draco and Ron not to bring dates as she didn't want anything leaking to the press. Neither one had particularly minded, though Draco had teased her mercilessly about her journalist aversion. Albus had been grudgingly invited, though neither Hermione nor Severus would allow him to perform the ceremony. Instead, they had asked Minerva to act as their celebrant, both trusting the older woman implicitly.
Finally on their honeymoon, Hermione lay on the bed in their hotel suite, staring out of the window at the picturesque view. They'd travelled to Australia, and the room they'd been given faced the ocean. She watched as the sunlight glinted off the cerulean blue waves, smiled as white gulls flew in and out of her view, some diving at the water, searching for fish and other tasty morsels. With the windows open, a light salty breeze filtered through the flimsy white curtains and drifted towards her. She could hear the laughter of small children as they played on the pale yellow sand drifting through the air; the sound faded and tinkly. She smiled and fingered her wedding ring.
"Still lazing about in bed, are you?" Severus queried, emerging from the bathroom and halting her thoughts. He was dressed in cream coloured slacks and a dark green t-shirt; the most revealing outfit she'd ever seen him wear in public.
She beamed at him. "I had a very, very exhausting night."
"Well, if you didn't enjoy it, you needn't worry about a repeat," he responded, the ghost of a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
"Now, I never said that." She laughed, throwing a pillow at him. "You tease."
He caught the offending item and tossed it to the nearest armchair. "Says the naked woman in my bed." He waited a beat, before asking if she was planning on getting out of bed at all.
"I don't know; I am quite comfortable..."
"Indeed..." he put on a loud, long suffering sigh. "Then I suppose you don't want to go sight-seeing after all..."
He couldn't contain his amusement as she leapt from the bed and into the bathroom with all the speed of a snitch in flight.
-?-
Returning to Snape Manor was bitter sweet for Hermione. It signalled the official beginning of their life together, but also her return to university. She'd had such a relaxing time away, spending every moment by her Husband's side -exploring the world with him, making love in new places every other night, relishing in the privacy of their own little 'newlywed' bubble- that it was almost a letdown to return to the monotony of their real lives.
But, she had to earn her keep somehow, and, as she'd promised her parents, she wasn't about to throw her plans away just because she'd fallen in love and had gotten married.
"Back to uni tomorrow," she reminded Severus, her tone wistful. "How I wish I could stay here with you instead."
He rolled his eyes. "Brewing simple potions for pittance day in and day out? You'd go stir crazy."
She frowned. "I still don't see why you don't branch out into the public sector. You're one of the only Potions Masters who can brew some of St Mungos' most difficult potions, not to mention the fact that you're the only one who has access to some of the world's rarest ingredients...especially those at Hogwarts..."
They'd had this discussion numerous times over the years. Severus believed that his name alone would sully any such business. After all, who would want to buy their most important and critical potions from an admitted Death Eater, spy or not?
When he shook his head, Hermione sighed. "Once I've got my own Masters, Severus, I will make you see sense."
"Once you've got your own Masters, you can start the damn business yourself," he responded, though not unkindly, "Which again goes to illustrate the importance of returning to university tomorrow."
She sighed again. He was such a stubborn man!
-?-
Hermione had never envisaged that returning to university would be so difficult. Not the coursework, of course, but her peers' reactions to her choice of Husband. It seemed as though the press had gotten wind of their 'secret' ceremony and had had a field day during their absence. A number of her classmates hurled abuse at her in the halls, insinuating that the only reason she'd done so well in her coursework was her link to Severus Snape. When she'd asked how, then, she'd scored so well in the heavily monitored exams, they'd shrugged and rattled off conspiracy theories about bribes and threats. One girl even snidely remarked that Snape was heavily involved in mind manipulative magic, and that he wasn't above using the Imperious curse. Hermione had wound up in the Dean's office over her response.
"Honestly," she'd reasoned, her tone far from apologetic, "How was I to know that she wouldn't have the good sense to at least duck. When I realised what it was that I'd accidentally knocked off the bench, I did cry out a warning..." It had sounded remarkably like 'Take this, you trollop' but she wasn't about to tell the Dean that.
"It will take her years to grow her hair back," the Dean had responded, "as you well know."
Hermione did her very best to hide a smirk; she did know. It's why she had reached for the Acromantula venom to begin with. No potions or mediwizardry could remedy the effect of the venom's contact with human hair; the awful girl would have to let time run its course. "I am terribly sorry," she didn't sound it in the least, "but Miss Watts' vicious slander and libel had so surprised me, that I spun around and the force of that had knocked the bottle...It was an honest mistake." And it was – she'd been aiming for the cow's eyebrows. "And, as I feel so terrible about it, I won't be pressing charges against her and the University for the aforementioned slander and libel against my husband and I."
The Dean floundered for a bit; he'd not considered the notion that a lawsuit against one of his students –and, subsequently his management of the issue- was even a possibility.
"Very well, Mrs Snape...I...I do believe that's settled then."
This time she did smirk. "Most definitely, Dean Florington. You are a wise man indeed."
Oh, Merlin, but had her husband rubbed off on her!
-?-
Hermione fell into an easy pattern at university following her meeting with the Dean; her Professors treated her as they always had, and those peers that had taunted her about her marriage remained blessedly silent, clearly aware that Hermione Snape was, in her own right, just as dangerous as her husband. Perhaps even more so, as she was still heralded by outward society as a war hero and all-round Good Girl.
Things remained this way until her final year.
-?-
Hermione awoke during the final week of her holidays feeling decidedly ill. She was nauseous and exhausted, and not at all feeling up to getting out of bed. She pressed a hand to her stomach in an attempt to stop its rolling, before opening her eyes wide with realisation; she'd felt like this years before, when that stupid charm had been placed upon her in Seventh Year. Suddenly giddy, she threw back the covers, summoned her slippers, and leapt out of bed, determined to find her husband and hopefully confirm her suspicions.
"Severus," she called as she entered his lab, "are you here?"
He emerged from his ingredients cupboard, a frown marring his features. "What are you doing out of bed so early? Shouldn't you be enjoying your final week of freedom before the horrors of Final Year bear down upon you?"
She grinned at him and pushed her bushy hair behind her ears. "I think I'm pregnant."
Severus paused for a moment; he'd been expecting this for some time now, ever since that initial discussion on the day he'd proposed. Certainly, they hadn't been actively trying to conceive, in fact, they'd discussed holding off on doing so until Hermione had graduated from University, but, from time to time, they had forgone the use of contraceptives in their haste to satisfy their lust for one another. He recovered his equilibrium within a split-second. "Indeed. Sit, I'll prepare the potion."
They'd confirmed her suspicions that afternoon. It was official; within eight months or so they would be parents.
Hermione postponed her final year of University; she would return the next year, assuming all went according to plan with the pregnancy and birth. What followed was a tumultuous time of waiting, planning and arguing, which culminated in the slightly premature birth of Hermione and Severus' first –and only- son. Within three years, he would have two sisters –twins- and within five years, yet another sister, at which point Hermione would decide that four children was more than enough to satisfy her maternal urges.
-?-
It was official; they'd been married twenty years to the day, and had four beautiful, if incredibly individual, children to show for their efforts. Michael, their tall, gangly, spitting-image-of-his-father son, was sixteen, and in his sixth year at Hogwarts, a Slytherin through and through. The twins were thirteen and in their third year; Rachael, dark haired and hazel eyed, gifted with her father's prominent nose, was in Hufflepuff, her sister, Sasha, bushy haired and dark-eyed, was in Gryffindor. The youngest, Evelyn, their baby girl, had started her first year that September, following her big brother –whom she idolised- into Slytherin.
"Pity," Severus mused as he poured a glass of wine for his wife, "We might have had one for each house."
She smirked at him and waited before he took a sip before responding; "Well, perhaps this one," she patted her very flat stomach, "will be different."
Severus choked on his drink; he'd been looking forward to having an empty nest for eleven years.
"What?!"
Hermione reached across and patted his hand. "There there...look on the bright side; I think it might be a boy."
The End.
A/N- Well, there you have it. Another incredibly sappy ending by yours truly. I enjoyed the ride and hope you did, too. Thank you to all who reviewed and followed this one through with me.