1
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
This mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to the gaudy day denies.
2
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
3
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Lord Byron, She Walks in Beauty
ssSss
After a long day of meeting with his clients, Severus pushed open the door of the house he called home. Before he crossed the threshold, he heard a heated discussion underway in the drawing room. Standing still, he could tell that one voice belonged to his wife, the other to her son.
Two weeks had passed since Theo and Hermione had divorced, and, alarmed by the return of his stepson after only a fortnight, Severus closed the door silently behind him, straining to hear the conversation in the nearby room.
Hermione had told him that Theo had guessed there was something between them and that she had not, in the end, denied it. He knew Theo had promised not to reveal their relationship to his mother, but this sudden return was cause for concern.
Inching closer to the drawing room door, he cast an amplification spell and uttered a small sigh of relief: their argument was about the fact that Theo had granted Hermione full ownership of his property across the square. Cordelia did not sound pleased.
Crossing the hallway, he climbed the stairs to his study, casting a wistful glance at the kitchen as he went. He was ravenous, but for now a strong drink would have to suffice. A Firewhisky, perhaps. He might need it. He had no doubt that Cordelia would seek an audience with him before the evening was through.
Severus opened the top two buttons of his frock coat and gently massaged his throbbing neck. The damp of October always made his wounds ache, and this year was no exception. Pouring himself a measure of Firewhisky, he downed it in one, his eyes smarting as the burning liquid set his throat aflame. Having refilled his glass, he sat behind his desk, eyeing the paperwork that required his attention with a grunt. There was little point hoping to get through it all tonight.
He stared into the depths of the amber liquid and allowed the image of Hermione's face to float to the forefront of his mind as it so often seemed to do these days. He had been only too glad to rid her of her burning ring once and for all, but he very much regretted not having made more of an effort to persuade her to remain wed. Cordelia's jealousy aside, he rather liked things the way they were, but the situation had begun to evolve, and he felt increasingly unsure of how he should proceed.
He glanced through the window, wondering where Hermione might be. It was already after six, so he doubted she was still in the laboratory. They had spent most of the weekend together, and things had already changed between them. Hermione was no longer a married woman. While they had both been wed, there'd been a sense of balance about their relationship. Now that status quo had been shattered and things no longer felt so equal.
Regardless of everything Hermione had been through: war, university, marriage, separation, divorce, and even though he had discovered the passionate spirit that lay behind the intellectual exterior, he saw her, in a way, as innocent. Pure. She radiated goodness, and he had wondered if he was doing her a disservice by allowing their affair to continue. He knew she desired stability, a home and a family, and he knew he was not the man to offer her such a future, even if he had been in any position to do so. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to simply let her go, to allow her what time remained to her to find a husband who could give her everything she wanted and deserved.
The door of his study was flung open, shattering his reverie, and Cordelia marched into the room.
"Why didn't you see fit to inform me that Theo, in some moment of madness, signed over his house to Hermione?" she snarled.
Severus raised an eyebrow and gestured to the seat in front of his desk. "I presumed he'd told you," he said, taking a fortifying gulp of whisky. "You went out to dinner with him after they divorced; I assumed he'd told you the terms and conditions to which they had agreed."
Cordelia took the seat and folded her arms, her dark blue eyes flashing. "Well, she has obviously Confounded the poor boy. Why would he agree to such a thing?"
"It was her sole demand, Cordelia. She could have asked very much more of him."
"But that property has been in the family for generations," she cried. "I object to it passing to some Muggle-born blow-in."
He grimaced. "You're beginning to sound rather like a Death Eater, my dear," he said, his tone icy.
She ignored his remark. "She's no longer a member of the family ... She has no right to continue living there, never mind the right to ownership."
"Cordelia," he said with as much patience as he could muster, "you know she has every right to continue living there. She was due half of Theo's share of that building, and as she requested nothing else, Theo agreed to sign over his share of the property in its entirety."
"Why would he do it, Severus? What would he get out of it? He would never have done it if she hadn't tricked him into it somehow."
He shook his head in disbelief, knowing she was flinging accusations in her anger. "Cordelia, he left her. Theo might be self-centred, but he has a conscience, and he is fundamentally a good man. Perhaps he did it to compensate for the distress he has caused her."
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. "Or maybe you suggested it, Severus. How convenient for you to continue to have your assistant living across the road."
He glared at her. "And why would that be convenient? I'm sure the girl can Apparate to work perfectly well from any part of the country, Cordelia."
Cordelia watched him through half-lidded eyes. "One can't help but wonder why a young woman of her age would want to share a house with an elf and an eccentric old fool. Perhaps she finds the proximity to her employer comforting."
He uttered a short laugh. "Would you care to add any further insinuations?"
She leaned forward in her seat. "You disappeared for the entire night of Hermione and Narcissa's birthday party, Severus, only minutes after Hermione herself had left. Where did you go?"
He too leaned forward, mimicking her aggressive posture. "You disappeared for the whole of last weekend, Cordelia, yet I know for a fact that you did not stay in your Edinburgh cottage. Where did you go?"
She remained silent for a moment, tapping her nails on his desk. "Well, at least I won't have to worry about you disappearing at family events from now on: Hermione is no longer family, so I'm under no obligation to invite her."
Severus smirked. "I'm sure she'll be devastated," he drawled, his voice sarcastic. "However will she cope without the scintillating conversation of your Aunt Jemima?"
Cordelia ignored him and continued. "And what is she supposed to do? She has less than six months to go until she's forced to marry once more; does she intend bringing her new husband to live in a house with Lance living upstairs and her former in-laws living across the road?"
He sighed deeply. The thought of Hermione married to some nameless stranger was not something he wished to dwell on. "I'm sure she will cross that bridge when she comes to it. She's an intelligent girl: she'll find a solution to the problem."
"You can't resist any opportunity to defend her, can you?" She rose from her seat, seething. "And to think I once believed you had taste, Severus."
"I find I've developed an appetite for all that is wholesome this past year, Cordelia. I've rather lost my fondness for all that is painted, superficial, and infinitely less satisfying."
She walked to the door and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. "I may be less than a year away from my fiftieth birthday, but it takes two to tango, darling. You might do well to bear in mind that a divorce requires more than one signature."
He arched both eyebrows. "Is that a threat?"
"Yes. I do believe it is." She slammed the door behind her.
He stared at the door for some minutes after she left, wondering if he would pay for his failure to hold his tongue. Knocking back the last of his Firewhisky, he breathed deeply, determined not to follow his wife downstairs and hex her to oblivion.
But as he flexed his fingers in an effort to dissipate his anger, he realised that the source of his distress was not just Cordelia. He was considerable more upset by the idea of Hermione Granger wed to another man than he was by the thought that his wife might never grant him a divorce.
ssSss
Hermione met Lance's gaze across the kitchen table. "Why the look of concern, Lancelot Mill?"
"You look happy," Lance said, frowning.
Hermione smiled, her mouth full of roast chicken. "Is that a bad thing?"
He sat back in his chair, continuing to scrutinise her over his spectacles. "Why are you happy?"
"Because I feel free, Lance. I have no need to feel guilty anymore. I'm a single woman."
Lance grunted.
"Adultery didn't suit me, Lance. Severus might still be married, but I am not, and Cordelia is no longer my mother-in-law. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted from my shoulders; I feel liberated."
"But three weeks have passed, girl. You only have five months to go before you are subject to the law. Have you discussed your predicament with Severus?"
Her face coloured and she dropped her gaze to her half eaten meal.
Lance tutted. "You haven't, have you?"
"I've no wish to discuss it with him yet, Lance. Five months is a long time ... There's time to sort it all out," she insisted.
"Five months is nothing! Five months will pass in the blink of an eye. Cowards, the pair of you, too scared to sit down and have a frank discussion about how you feel," he said, annoyed.
Hermione was hurt. "But Lance, you know what he's like. I've no idea how he really feels about me. For all I know, I'm a convenient bit of comfort and very little else."
Lance snorted. "You know that's not true."
"No, I don't know what the truth is. You've said yourself he's a difficult man. When we're working together, talking, I often get the impression that he's fond of me, that he enjoys my company, but when we're more intimate he is much more guarded of his feelings, in very many ways."
"I thought things were going well between you?"
"They are!" Hermione said, willing him to understand. "He's told me things I know he has never told anyone else; he's allowed me to stay the night with him; he's allowed me past his defences. But we've never discussed how we feel about one another or where this is all going ... We've always skirted those issues."
"Well, you can't skirt those issues any longer," Lance said. "You have to draw him out, Hermione. It would kill him if you married another man; I know it would."
Hermione felt suddenly sad. "Would it really, Lance? I've no idea what he wants; I haven't the faintest notion whether or not he would like to be with me. He dislikes complications, and after all he's been through, maybe he deserves a simple, quiet life."
"He deserves happiness," Lance said adamantly. "You can make him happy, but if he's not careful, he's going to ruin it all because of his emotional repression. You can't allow him to ruin it for you both, Hermione."
"What am I meant to do?" she said. "Demand he divorces Cordelia and marries me instead?"
"Yes. Why not?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lance, you know what he's like. We'd have a blazing row, and that would be the end of everything. Severus Snape does not give in to demands, and he absolutely hates melodrama."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to wait. The ball is in his court, now. I'm free and single; he's not. It's not my place to interfere in his marriage or to suggest what he should do. Besides which," she said with a sigh, "I still have no idea how he feels about me, so discussion of a future together is pointless. I suspect Severus has an awful lot more thinking to do than I."
Lance gave an exasperated sigh. "Perhaps you're right about Severus." He regarded her thoughtfully. "But what about you, my dear? What do you want?"
"I don't know. I decided I would allow myself to enjoy my first month of freedom, and after that, I would start to think about a solution."
He fell quiet for a moment and then began to laugh. "A husband who doesn't mind your continued entanglement with your boss would be ideal: You could always marry me."
Hermione sniggered. "That would certainly be the social bombshell of the year."
"Although I must warn you," Lance continued, "being one-hundred-and-five and a rampant homosexual would leave me hopelessly inadequate in the sack compared to Severus."
Hermione choked on her chicken.
Lance's expression grew serious once more. "Can you picture yourself without Severus?"
Hermione thought about it for a moment and shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do without him." She was instantly drawn back to the night she had packed her bags, when Severus had pleaded with her not to leave, when he'd said I have no idea what I would do without you. Surely that was more than a mere glimmer of hope?
"You love him, don't you?" Lance asked gently.
She nodded. "Yes, I do, fool that I am."
"You're not a fool. And he loves you, too, Hermione. Even if he hasn't realised it himself, I'm sure of it."
"I hope you're right, Lance. And I hope he realises it sooner rather than later, because time is surely running out."
ssSss
Some ten days later, Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and settled into her favourite armchair in her sitting room. It was a Wednesday evening in late October, exactly one month since she'd officially become a single woman, and, after a busy day in the laboratory, she had donned her pyjamas and dressing gown and had decided she would toast this minor milestone all by herself.
She had permitted herself one month to enjoy her new freedom, and now the time for serious reflection must commence.
Two paths lay before her: one path led to a life in which Severus Snape featured, and the other led to a life in which he did not. The second path was almost more than she could bear to imagine. She didn't want to think about a future without Severus, and if he decided he did not want to continue seeing her, she would be left with two further options: abide by the law and marry once again, or flee the country and rebuild her life somewhere else.
But if, by some miracle, her feelings were reciprocated, there were even more possibilities: she could enter another marriage of convenience and continue her affair with Severus; she could move abroad and they could embark on a long-distance relationship; or, most unlikely of all, Severus could get a divorce, allowing them to leave the country together or, more improbable still, they could marry.
Severus was a half-blood—if he was single, he could marry anyone of his choosing. But he'd never suggested that he wanted something more than the bizarre liaison in which they were currently embroiled. Besides which, Cordelia was still an obstacle. Hermione knew her former mother-in-law was only ten months away from turning fifty, and when that happened, Cordelia would no longer be subject to the Marriage Law, leaving her free, finally, to marry Everard Monroe.
Hypothetically, Cordelia could divorce Severus in only four months' time, and by the time her six-month period of grace was at an end, she would no longer be affected by the Marriage Law. But no matter what the timing, the consent of both parties was required for a divorce, and there was no guarantee that Cordelia would give Severus the satisfaction of such a simple solution.
As Hermione frowned into her glass of wine, her quiet evening was disturbed by a sharp knock on the front door. She glanced at her watch: it was only nine o'clock, but she was in her pyjamas, so she crossed to the window and waited for Moe to answer. As she peered through the darkness outside, trying to see who her late-evening visitor might be, she heard the sound of a familiar male voice. Without waiting for Moe to announce his arrival, she flung open the door of the sitting room, exclaiming, "Neville!"
Neville Longbottom stood on her doorstep, dressed in a thick, dark-green travelling cloak. He had a Muggle safari hat on his head, and a large wooden trunk on the ground to his right. He looked startled when Hermione appeared in her dressing gown.
"I'm terribly sorry, Hermione," he said, flushing. "I've arrived at a bad time ... I should have sent an owl ..."
Hermione shook her head, beaming. "It's fine—don't worry about it. I spent the day working on some noxious potions, so I showered when I came home and pyjamas seemed the comfier option. Come on in." She stood to one side and motioned for him to enter the sitting room, looking on curiously as he Levitated his trunk through the door.
"Is you wanting tea?" Moe asked, clearly delighted to have someone to cater for.
"Yes, thank you, Moe," Hermione replied. "That would be lovely."
Moe disappeared with a click of her fingers, and Hermione followed Neville into the sitting room. "What's going on, Neville? Are you going somewhere?" she asked as she settled into her favourite chair.
Neville grinned, and Hermione thought he looked both younger and happier than he had for a very long time.
"It's a bit of a long story ... Something unexpected happened at the weekend, and I'm leaving," he said, smiling. "I've said all my goodbyes; I've made sure Mum and Dad are settled. You're the last on my list, and when I've told you the story, I'll be Apparating straight to Madrid, and from there to Africa."
Hermione looked stunned. "But ... But I thought you couldn't leave?"
Neville beamed. "Last Saturday morning, I was struggling in the greenhouses when a big snowy owl tapped on the window and delivered this letter." He extracted a length of parchment from his robes and handed it to Hermione.
She opened the letter and began to read.
Dear Mr Longbottom,
I'm pleased to inform you that a care suite has been acquired on your behalf at our premises, Cunningham's Care Home for the Confuddled and Confused, for your parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom. A benefactor, who has insisted on remaining anonymous, has kindly paid in advance for two full years of premium standard care for your parents, and an appointment has been made for you to inspect our care home and to discuss all relevant details at two o'clock this afternoon.
Please find attached a map detailing our whereabouts.
Yours in care and compassion,
Herbert Hippocrates
Hermione looked up, her eyes wide. "Did you go?"
"At first I was too annoyed to go. I've only told a few people about Mum and Dad and about me wanting to travel, and I was annoyed that someone would go and do this behind my back. But I decided to go and take a look, and you should have seen it, Hermione. It was amazing! The home is in a beautiful old building in a village in Devon called Fremington ... It overlooks a bay. I thought ..." he paused, looking embarrassed, "well, I thought they'd like to be able to see the sea ... Gran always said that Dad loved the sea when he was a kid."
Moe suddenly appeared with a crack, a tea tray laden with scones and cakes in her tiny hands. After they'd thanked her, Neville continued.
"I don't know if you remember, but before that summer at Belgrave house, I went looking for suitable homes all over the country. Everything I saw was either way too far above my budget, or, if I could afford it, it was little better than St. Mungo's. But regardless of price, this place blows everything else out of the water. I told the proprietor that I wouldn't even look around unless he was willing to tell me who this mysterious benefactor is. But he wouldn't budge ... All he told me was that it was someone of wealth and impeccable character who wishes to see me content, and my parents well cared for."
Hermione was dubious. "So, he talked you into having a look around?"
Neville nodded. "I've seen about ten wizard-run care homes around the country over the years, but never anything like this. Mum and Dad will have their own little suite of rooms and twenty-four-hour carers—all of them qualified Healers. The patients are entertained all day long, even if they're not ... you know..." He blushed again. "Aware of anything, I suppose."
Hermione shook her head in wonder. "It sounds great, but are you really going to accept it without knowing who's behind it?"
Neville shrugged. "Even though the place was fantastic, I decided I couldn't possibly accept, but I changed my mind after I talked to Gran. She thinks I've a lot of admirers since the war," he explained, laughing at himself, his cheeks growing redder still, "and she presumes it's one of them, or maybe Minerva or something. She said no matter who it is, I'd be mad not to accept. She thinks I'm playing the coward, staying at Hogwarts, not heading off for an adventure. And maybe she's right ... You only live once, after all. I'm twenty-five years old—the same age Mum and Dad were when they lost their sanity. Maybe it's time to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, and live a little."
"But what about Hogwarts? That's a great opportunity, too ... To be a Professor at such a young age is unusual; you can't just throw that away."
Neville smiled again. "Well, that's where the story gets even more interesting. After I viewed the home, I went straight to Gran to talk it over with her, and when I got back to Hogwarts, I went to see Minerva. She acted as though it was a shock when I told her I was keen to travel and that I was thinking of taking up the offer of the home so could go abroad. But it was strange ... I can't quite put my finger on it, but I felt as if it was all an act on her part. That's what made me think it was her—she pretended to be all surprised and troubled about me leaving my position, but then she came up with an idea. She said her cousin, Morag McTaggish—"
"Oh! I know Morag," Hermione interrupted. "She's one of my clients!"
"Yes, she owns that shop in Vertic Alley. Well, apparently she has a degree in Herbology and Potions, so Minerva suggested her as a stand-in for two years if I want to travel for a while, but still keep the Hogwarts position open. She sent a message to Morag who turned up within minutes, and before I really knew what was going on, they were pushing me out the door and telling me to have a nice time!"
"Hmmm ..." Hermione murmured. "Sounds suspicious to me!"
He nodded in agreement. "It was either McGonagall, or she's in on the secret. A few knowing looks passed between her and Morag, especially when I mentioned that some mysterious stranger was paying for it all."
"Could it have been Pomona Sprout?" Hermione suggested. "She's always been very fond of you."
"It could, I suppose. I don't think she's well off, though."
"I think Minerva's family are the more likely option, really. We always reckoned she was the one who bought Harry that Nimbus 2000 when we were in first year."
"I thought of that, too," Neville agreed. "But if it was Minerva, why didn't she do all this before the first of September? Why would she wait until October and disrupt everything?"
"That's a good point," Hermione agreed, pouring tea for them both. "Does anyone else know about Luna, Neville?"
Neville shook his head. "You were the only one, really. Gran guessed it, too."
"Could it have been one of your Gran's friends or something, then?"
He shook his head again. "I don't think so. Not many of them are moneyed, and they're all a bit batty, to be honest. My money's on McGonagall." He helped himself to a scone. "No use Apparating on an empty stomach," he said with an excited grin.
Hermione returned his smile, her misgivings about this mysterious benefactor evaporating at his happy expression. "So you're going to hunt for Luna?"
Neville nodded. "I went to see Xenophilius Lovegood yesterday. He said that last he heard, she was somewhere in sub-Saharan Africa. Hence the hat," he added, pointing to his safari hat.
"It's quite exciting, really," Hermione said. "What will you do when you find her, Neville? And what about Hannah?"
"Hannah and I are still married. She was really supportive about me heading off, though, and we've agreed that we'll divorce as soon as either of us wants to. She hasn't started seeing anyone yet, and to be honest, things are easier if we're still legally wed." He looked up from his tea, his expression suddenly doubtful. "Do you think I'm being terribly selfish, Hermione? Abandoning my parents like this to take off after some girl who might not even want anything to do with me?"
"Oh, Neville! Of course not," Hermione insisted. "This is what I've wanted you to do all along, and now you can do it with a clear conscience because you know your parents will be well looked after. The benefactor thing is a bit of a puzzle, but they obviously know you well enough to know that if they had offered you this gift in person, you probably would have turned them down."
Neville mulled this over for a minute and raised an eyebrow. "You know, I think you're right: I couldn't have accepted it—not knowing who it is makes it an awful lot easier."
Hermione smiled. "Your Gran is right: you'd be crazy to turn down an offer like this. You've been a good son, and your parents would have wanted you to be happy."
"Everyone's been so supportive. I thought people would think I'm crazy for trusting this benefactor and leaving Mum and Dad, but everyone seems to think it's a great idea."
She grinned. "Do you promise to write?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. And will you say goodbye to Harry and Ginny for me? I haven't had a chance to visit them. I'll be back every so often anyway, to check on Mum and Dad."
Hermione nodded. "Neville, would you like me to pop in to see them every few weeks to let you know that they're okay? If you let the care home know my name in advance, maybe I could drop in unexpectedly, just so that the staff knows someone is around to make sure your Mum and Dad are doing well."
Neville looked delighted. "Would you mind? And I'm sure Mum and Dad would be pleased, even if they haven't a clue who you are ... They really like visitors."
"I can send you a note each time I visit to let you know how they're getting on."
"Hermione," Neville said, rising from the sofa, "I owe you ... I really owe you. You've always been so kind to me." He looked at his watch. "I should get going, I suppose. It's getting late." He suddenly looked ashamed. "Hermione, I'm so sorry … I heard about you and Theo getting an official divorce, and I haven't even asked you about it!"
Hermione stood up and shook her head. "It was amicable, so there's really nothing to tell. He granted me ownership of this house, and that was all I wanted."
Neville frowned. "But what about the Marriage Law? And what about, you know ..." He jerked his head in the direction of the opposite side of the square. "Snape."
She sighed. "I haven't a clue how it's going to work out, Neville. I'll just have to wait and see."
"But are you ... You know ..."
"Together?" Hermione asked, amused.
Neville nodded.
She sighed again. "Seeing as you're going abroad, I guess I can tell you without having to Obliviate you. Yes, we're together. Or at least as together as we can be while he's still married."
Neville gave a short laugh and shook his head. "You're the bravest girl I've ever met."
Hermione giggled. "He takes a bit of getting used to, but he's not all that scary when you get to know him."
"I'll take your word for it." Neville took out his wand and reduced his trunk to the size of a wallet. Once he'd stowed it inside the folds of his cloak, they walked to the front door.
Hermione drew him into a tight hug. "I'll miss you, Neville. Just make sure you find her, and when you do, tell her I said she's a lucky witch."
"If I find her," Neville corrected her.
"No, when you find her," Hermione insisted. "I know you will."
Neville nodded and rummaged inside his cloak. "Just before I go ... Take a look at this and tell me if you recognise the writing. I got it yesterday—it's from the benefactor."
Hermione accepted the crumpled piece of parchment and unfolded it.
Dear Mr Longbottom,
I have received word from Healer Hippocrates this afternoon in connection with your parents' care. I was gratified to find you have decided to accept my offer.
It is imperative that my anonymity, for personal reasons, be preserved. I expect your full cooperation to this end. Healer Hippocrates has signed a magical agreement to protect my identity, and if you attempt to coerce my name from him, you will both suffer an ailment of the most uncomfortable and personal nature.
Please rest assured that your parents' every need will be catered for over the coming two years. I trust you will use your time and freedom wisely, and I wish you the very best of luck for the future.
Yours in debt,
There was no signature and the note itself was written in capitals throughout, making it almost impossible to recognise the script. Hermione shook her head.
"It's written in block letters. Perhaps if it was handwritten ... But no, I haven't a clue."
Neville took the letter and tucked it beneath his robe. After a final farewell, he Disapparated, leaving Hermione to stare into the darkness.
She closed the door, deep in thought, when suddenly, something occurred to her. Stopping in her tracks, she thought about the words with which the anonymous patron had ended the letter: Yours in debt. She felt as though she had been doused in freezing cold water as comprehension hit her, and she whispered, "Severus."
She could hardly believe it, but it all made sense. Severus had told her he considered himself in Neville's debt, and she had told him about Neville's desire to find Luna and his reluctance to leave his parents in the care of St. Mungo's. What was more, if Severus could afford custom made golden cauldrons, money was obviously not a problem.
"Moe?" she called.
The little elf appeared before her.
"You is calling, Miss Hermione?"
"Moe, I urgently need to talk to Severus. Could you Apparate to his house and tell me if Cordelia is at home and if she's still awake?"
Moe nodded solemnly and Disapparated with a click of her fingers. She reappeared seconds later.
"Mistress Cordelia is being in the bath on the third floor, and Master Severus is being in his study," she announced.
Hermione grinned. "Thank you, Moe."
Not caring about the fact that she was still dressed in her pyjamas, Hermione summoned her cloak from her bedroom and dashed to the door. Once outside, she Apparated across the square and pressed the tip of her wand to Severus and Cordelia's front door. Closing the door as quietly as she could behind her, she tiptoed up the stairs, wincing as one of the floorboards creaked. When she reached the door of Severus's study she gently pushed open the door, and, smiling at his expression of incredulity, she pressed a finger to her lips as she cast a Silencing Spell and warded the door. The she raced across the room to where he sat at his desk, flung her arms around his neck and climbed into his lap.
"What is going on?" Severus asked, battling to clear his face of her curls. "What the devil do you think you're doing, girl?"
"You are the loveliest, kindest, most thoughtful man I've ever met!"
He arched an eyebrow. "Have you finally succumbed to madness?"
She kissed his face repeatedly until he took her by the wrists and pulled her away.
"Would you be so kind as to explain what, exactly, has gotten into you?" Severus whispered. "You are well aware that Cordelia is at home."
"It was you, wasn't it?" she asked.
"What do you mean, it was me?"
"Neville came to say good bye," she said, watching his reaction closely.
He paused before saying, "And that sent you tearing over here why, precisely?"
"Because you, Severus Snape, are the one who has anonymously arranged for his parents to spend two years in the best care home in Britain," she said, scrutinising his black eyes.
He tried to push her from his lap, but she wound her arms around his neck. "I've no idea what you're talking about, silly girl."
"He showed me the letter, and you signed off by saying Yours in debt, Severus. I know it was you! The day I told you all about Neville and Luna and how he couldn't leave his parents in St. Mungo's, you said you felt indebted to him."
"You're completely insane," he said.
"Fine," she said, rising from his lap. "If you won't admit it, I'll Apparate to Hogwarts and get the truth out of Minerva McGonagall."
He grabbed her by the hand, and as she turned to look into his eyes, she knew she was right.
"If you go thundering off to Hogwarts at this time of night, demanding to know about my dealings with Minerva McGonagall, it's going to look suspicious. If Minerva McGonagall knows about us, we might as well take out a full page advert in the Daily Prophet!"
Hermione smirked triumphantly. "Then admit it was you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, relinquishing her hand.
"Severus," she said, glaring at him.
"What?" he snarled, returning her glare.
"Admit it."
"Admit what?"
"Severus!" She stamped her foot.
He rolled his eyes. "Good Merlin, will my life ever be my own again? Fine, fine," he growled, looking angry. "It was me. Satisfied?"
She threw herself on him again, and after a moment, he reluctantly put his arms around her and began to stroke her hair. "Tell me you didn't mention my name to Neville Longbottom?"
She shook her head. "No, he thinks it was Minerva or Pomona Sprout or someone like that," she said, her voice thick.
Severus pulled away from her and pushed her hair from her face. "Why are you crying?" he asked quietly, his brow furrowed.
She shrugged and wiped at her eyes. "I'm just so overwhelmed. I've been worried about him for so long ..."
His gaze dropped to her clothes. "Are you wearing pyjamas beneath your cloak?" he asked in disbelief.
She nodded and pulled her cloak more tightly around her.
"You entered our house unannounced at nearly eleven o'clock at night in your pyjamas? I would have liked to see you explain that to Cordelia if you had met her on the stairs."
Hermione pouted. "I'm not stupid, you know. I sent Moe over ahead of me to scout the territory; I happen to know that Cordelia is currently bathing on the third floor."
Severus grunted, but then entangled his hand in her hair and kissed her soundly. When he eventually pulled away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.
"What made you do it, Severus?"
He shrugged. "I fancied a snog."
She swatted his shoulder. "Not the kiss ... I mean Neville."
He chuckled. "I felt I owed him a debt; I have repaid that debt. I was also very impressed by the manner in which he stood up to the Carrows during my short reign as Headmaster—I rather thought he deserved a little happiness." He fell silent for a moment. "Besides, I was touched by your concern for him. I thought it would please you."
She wrapped a strand of his hair around her finger. "It certainly does please me. It was very generous of you, Severus, but I don't understand the reasons behind all the secrecy."
"Do you honestly think that Neville Longbottom would have accepted such a gift from me, of all people?"
She shook her head. "I suppose not."
"Then I can rely on you to keep it a secret?"
"Of course you can," she whispered, feeling tearful again. She felt that voice rise up once more in her mind, and the instinct to whisper I love you was almost more than she could stand. But she knew that the time had not yet come, if ever it would.
"You're really lovely," she said with a sigh.
"Lovely?" He snorted. "I rather think not."
"No, you are," she insisted. "You're lovely."
"I let you away with calling me funny once, but I'm not sure I should be so lenient this time."
Hermione gave a short laugh. "Well, you might not like it, but I happen to know you are both lovely and funny."
They sat in silence for a few moments before Hermione said, "I suppose I should go home. Can I use the Floo from here?"
Severus nodded. "I think that would be wise."
She sat up. "Come with me. Stay the night."
He did not immediately refuse. "I thought we agreed to abide by the rules? What if Cordelia should discover I'm missing?"
"Is that likely? Won't she just assume you've gone to bed? You can leave my house first thing in the morning."
He sighed. "Appealing as that may be, I'm not sure it is a good idea."
She stood. "Come," she beseeched him, holding out her hand.
He looked at her outstretched hand and then met her gaze. Taking her hand, he rose from his chair. "You will yet prove to be my undoing," he whispered. "But perhaps it would be an altogether pleasant undoing."
Smiling, she led him to the fireplace, knowing that the events of the evening had proved, if she had ever needed proof, that here was a good man worth keeping.
And she fully intended to fight for that privilege.
ssSss
A/N: Well, there we have it. That's poor old Neville sorted. Theo gone? Check. Neville happy? Check. Now, if only Severus would get a move on.
In answer to some questions: Yes, after this there are only six more chapters, including the epilogue.
And Hermione was only entitled to EVERYTHING Theo owned while she was an abandoned wife. As a divorcee, she was entitled to HALF. But, as we know, she only wanted the house.
And yes again, Cordelia is 10 months away from her 50th birthday, and will no longer be subject to the Marriage Law. So, as Hermione reasoned out in this chapter, Cordelia could divorce Severus in four months, and by the time her six-month period of post-divorce grace is up, she would be 50 and no longer subject to the law. BUT, as Hermione also knows, it takes TWO signatures to secure a divorce.
I am very behind in responding to reviews again. Please forgive me. Basically, time is short, so I have a choice: Edit the last six chapters or respond to reviews. So, until we are done, I will mostly edit the story so you won't have to wait. Later, I will respond to your reviews. But please do know that I read every single word of every single one of them. So please do keep them coming – they are a joy.
LB x