We are making our way toward the end, here, folks. Hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!

Three months to the day later, Severus took Hermione out to dinner. He'd already spoken with Atticus earlier in the day, and the little boy had given his daddy (he had finally dropped the 'beaw' right around the time he'd learned to pronounce it 'bear') his enthusiastic approval. He knew, that for the entire year, this was what they had both been working towards. Still, he couldn't help the nerves that settled in his stomach. What if she thought he was moving too soon? What if he had waited too long and she'd changed her mind? There were too many things that could go wrong, too many variables out of his control.

He clung to the fact that he had Atticus on his side, at least. It was very Slytherin of him, but he knew that Hermione loved him, and if she was going to try deny them what they all wanted, then he would use every tool at his disposal.

The restaurant he took her to was the same one they'd eaten at on their first date. The sentiment of the gesture was not lost on Hermione. She knew he had something planned, even had an idea (a hope?) of what it was, but she couldn't help but be touched that he had put so much thought into even the small details of the night. He suggested her favorite wine, insisted that she get dessert. All through the meal, they talked and laughed. She could see he was nervous, adorably so, and it meant so much to her that he let her see it. He was so stoic around the rest of the world, expression set in stone, hiding behind his army of little black buttons. But he allowed her to see the man behind that facade. His humanity, his vulnerability. His incredible capacity for love.

"I talked with Atticus earlier today," he said as they were finishing a rather decedent slice of tiramisu.

"Oh?" Hermione licked last of the cream from her spoon, noting the way his eyes followed the movement, and then set it down.

"I thought, despite his age, that I should seek his permission."

Hermione's breath caught. "Permission?"

"You know what I want, Hermione. You've known nearly from the first. Before I had any right to expect it or even hope for it. But by some twist of fate, you seemed to hope someday for the same things. For everything. And I've been biding my time, really, because I didn't need this last year to tell me what I already knew. I love you, Hermione. I always will. And I love your son. I want you both to be my family, in every way possible. I want to marry you, to adopt Atticus when you're ready, and maybe, someday, give him brothers or sisters. I want a life with you." He paused, taking a deep breath and watching with satisfaction as joy spread across her face. "There is one thing I need to do first, though," he said seriously. He looked into her eyes, seeing the small spark of worry, and clasping her hand to reassure her. "Hermione," he said sternly. "You're fired."

She burst out laughing and smacked his shoulder. "You wanker! You really had me worried!"

"Well, you knew it was coming." He smirked.

"Yes, but right in the middle of your proposal?" She stopped, eyes suddenly suspicious. "You are proposing, aren't you?"

"I was attempting to."

"Oh good. Okay, onward then."

"Bossy witch," he chided with a smile. "But alas, you are right. I think we have tried to conform to tradition as much as possible during our courtship, considering the otherwise unconventional aspects of it, so I believe the logical proposal position is..." he slipped from his chair and down to one knee. A small, black velvet box appeared in his hand. "I considered slipping it into your drink, but that always seemed like a rather glaring choking hazard to me."

"Not to mention getting the ring sticky," Hermione agreed sagely, her heart pounding inside her chest. He lifted the lid of the box to reveal a square cut diamond with an engraved band. Tears began to fall from Hermione's eyes. His own seemed to have taken on a sheen. Allergies, he thought. Had to be.

"You thought it'd be a garish emerald, didn't you," he managed to smirk. She sniffled, fighting back the half sob half laugh that threatened to emerge from her throat.

"If you don't ask me properly right this very minute, Severus Snape, I'm going to charm it red and gold our entire first year of marriage."

"Perish the thought. Hermione Jean Granger, my love, please say you'll do me the honor of becoming my wife. Will you marry me?"

This time, she didn't stand a chance of stifling her sob. "Yes! Of course I will." She threw her arms around him, certain she was making a spectacle of herself and not caring at all. They embraced, then Severus took her left hand and slipped the ring onto it.

"Thank you," he whispered as he kissed her ear. She pulled back, blinking away the tears.

"Whatever for?"

"For being in my life. For seeing in me what no one else could. For trusting me. For bringing Atticus into my life. For letting me make you my family."

"Oh, Severus." She pulled his hand up and repeated their kiss, more intimate than any erotic display could be. She kissed his palm, the tip of each finger, and his knuckles. Then she brought his hand up to cup her cheek. "I love you."

"And I you." He rose from his knee and pulled his chair over so it was only a few inches away from hers. Hermione looked around and realized that no one had even glanced their way. She was more grateful than confused. "I cast a notice-me-not before going to one knee," he said when he saw her looking around. "Following tradition is one thing, making a fool of yourself in front of an entire crowd of strangers is another. I should cancel it, though, before our waiter becomes any more confused."

After he'd canceled the spell, he paid the check and they began strolling slowly in the direction of the Apparation point.

"There are a few very non-romantic things we still need to work out," she admitted. "Would you rather we preserve the moment, or get them out in the open?"

"By all means," he encouraged. He appreciated romance, but was still a pragmatic at heart.

"I'll need to search the registry at the French ministry to see if my divorce took. I never waited to see if Phillipe contested it. I could still be-"

"You are not." Severus shook his head. "I took the liberty of looking for myself. For whatever reason, maybe because he never thought to look because he never believed you would have the courage to file, he never tried to prevent it, and you were officially divorced six months after you left Paris."

"Thank Merlin," she breathed. "Okay, then, that's one thing done. The next one is that you've now officially fired me. Don't think I didn't realize that you were hoping if we waited to discuss it until after we were married, I would just accept that we share an account at Gringotts and be content to not contribute." He managed a sufficiently chagrined, considering that's exactly what he'd been hoping.

"How about a compromise, then?"

"I'm listening."

"I've been reliably informed that someone," he glanced at her and then looked away, "took it upon themselves to inform the Ministry that the letter they received from you four years ago had been forged. With several impeachable character witnesses to back it up, they of course rescinded their rejection of your application and are more than willing to hire you in your pick of mid level positions."

"Severus!" Hermione stopped, pulling on his arm until he turned to face her. "You didn't."

"I never said I did," he hedged. She just looked at him with those wide, whiskey colored eyes. He sighed. "Alright, I did."

"I can't believe- I mean, I never thought-" She put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything, for now. There's no rush to decide. And..." he slipped her arm through his and tugged her gently along until they were walking again. "There is... a second option, if you would be interested."

"What do you mean?"

"I know the work you did before coming to work for me-"

"The research paper?"

"Yes. I know it wasn't exactly what you'd envisioned when you first considered a career. It probably wasn't even on the list. But you have never seemed unhappy with it, when you've spoken of it. And it seems that another opportunity has arisen for similar work, not just temporary work on a single paper, but several, backdated eight years as well as future projects that will need collaboration." He paused, more uncertain on this than on anything else they'd spoken of the whole night. "With me." He felt her startled reaction, and pushed ahead. "I know potions are not your field of study, but you are as familiar with the work I've been doing as I am. It's not all merely potions, there are Arithmancy aspects, charms work, even some work with runes. And I'm utter shite at the research and publishing side of it. I've got the intuition at the cauldron, but the rest-" he waved his hand negligently. "That's why the projects I've completed haven't seen the light of day. Some of them could be incredibly useful to the right people if they were published properly."

"I'm sure," Hermione agreed, sounding thoughtful.

"And it would mean getting to work from the house, and picking your own hours. You could still take care of Atticus, and I don't know what kind of money is in research and publishing, but whatever comes from it is yours. I've already more than what I need."

"Severus, that's far too generous. It's your work."

"Then we can join our Gringotts accounts early, if this is what you decide." He shrugged, trying to appear casual while he felt anything but. "Then whatever money they make is 'ours.'"

"You've given this a lot of thought," she murmured.

"Indeed, I have. And I want you to give it the same amount. Don't simply take what one you think I will most approve of. I want you to be happy, Hermione, and I'll support whatever decision you make."

"Alright," she agreed, already knowing which she would pick but loving him more in that moment than she ever had before, simply because he wanted her to choose.