Good day, readers. Thanks for your reviews, favorites, and follows. This chapter was difficult to write, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. And thanks to my far-flung readers. I see Brazil, Estonia, South Africa, Chile, Singapore, and so many other places. Alaska, are you still following, too?

Happy holidays to everyone everywhere. Enjoy!

DN

Real.

How was it possible? How much more proof could you need, he wondered? He drifted out of her mind again, reoriented himself to the room. Unchanged. Never to be the same again.

She had loved him. Her love had been real. He had rejected a true lover.

He continued to sit silently by the window, wondering how long he could extend this moment until it was over and gone forever. What could he say? He had mistrusted her, invaded her mind, and nearly let her die in front of him. She knew he had no fortune of any kind and no prospect of one in the future. Having no fortune of her own, having so rashly given it over to the school, she would need someone with a means of support more than before.

And the small matter of his having been a Death Eater, having made his living producing poisons, having killed Albus. All the rest of his foolishness, his darkness. His love for another.

Competing thoughts struggled within him for primacy: "You are worthy of love. The witch that you love, loved you in return." "You rejected the only love you may ever have."

The first thought was a revelation. When it rose, his heart felt light, expansive. When the second overtook him, a return to the kind of crushing remorse he hadn't felt in nearly 17 years. The vacillation exhausted him further. He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head, lacking the will to raise it.

Snape heard her stir, rising. She must be ready to leave now. Instead, her steps came nearer to him, until he could no longer look away. He prepared himself for her onslaught, a Howler delivered live and in person, all of the hurt that he'd caused her, spilled out upon him. He turned to her, and saw tears welling in her eyes. He'd never seen her cry before. Her pain must be extreme to cause this reaction.

She sat on the bench next to him and slid her hand in his. The electricity of her touch, so unexpected, caused him to stiffen and sit up, all his senses on alert.

"Severus," she said, her voice cracking. "I know what it's like to feel so alone, to be in such a dark place. I'm so sorry you felt that way."

She wasn't departing on the next train, she wasn't castigating him for treating her so badly. She hadn't drawn her wand. She was sitting unbelievably close to him, holding his hand, her words kind and tender. Why? He continued to feel the warm hand of Morgan Hunter in his, feeling her warmth flow through him. When he at last felt able to look at her face, he found her to be gazing at him unwaveringly. He wanted desperately to know what she was thinking now, but the moment had passed and he had exited.

"What is my aura now?" Was she sad, angry, worried, resigned? He silently wished he had a supply of Auralite with him now. It would be wise to add this to the cache of vials he kept in his jacket pockets for everyday needs.

"Blue, as always, but with yellow. I have only seen yellow in your aura twice before."

The aura of fear. He knew precisely when. "In the alley in Hogsmeade and when I confronted you about the article in the Daily Prophet."

"Yes."

What he had feared most was her leaving, but her rejection or ridicule were close behind. The opportunity to face our greatest fears is often frittered away by shirking the smaller ones along the way. He would fritter away no more, waste no more time.

Severus Snape continued to hold her hand while descending to his knees before her. Taking both her hands, covered in dust and chalk, in his, he closed his eyes, being unable to both hold her gaze and speak. Her scent was one of slightly burned cotton and singed hair. He heard the rush of his blood in his ears, felt her pulse quickening. "Morgan, will you stay? The hurt I've caused you can never be undone, and for this I will never forgive myself. Give me the chance to show you the wizard I can be. Work with me, be with me, until the end of the school year. I can offer you nothing but my own talents, modest though they be, and my soul, damaged though it be."

Morgan Hunter took in this scene, Severus kneeling before her. His only fear had been her leaving him, yet he'd pushed her away, so firm was his belief that she could not possibly love him, perhaps that no one could. All that she hadn't known of him, his past as a Death Eater, his early career making deadly potions, killing his friend. He had spent a long time living with guilt, stretched between two worlds, unable to truly live in either of them. Isolated, with no source of comfort, not able accept love freely given. She knew this feeling well, having locked herself away after Phillipus' accident. Denying offers of friendship, of healing. Telling herself she could do it alone. No more.

He felt her lips on his hair, a gentle kiss bringing with it all the warmth of the summer sun, chasing away the last chilly remnants of spring. "Severus." Her hands released his to grasp his cheeks and forced his gaze to her face, filled with tenderness. "That's all I ever wanted." Her hands wrapped around his shoulders as he fell in relief against her, his head against her waist, his arms around her, holding her again, as he had thought he never would again.

She surrounded him, her arms encircling him, her fingers entwined in his hair, twisted and dirty with the sweat and dirt of a long and difficult day, blades of grass from the Quidditch pitch still clinging. She felt the bruises across his shoulders and back, still rising. The day was little more than half over, dust from their duel still hanging in the air, the duel with Parse only hours before. She ran her fingers gently across them, muttering charms to stop the swelling. The release she felt, all those days and nights of doubt and fear, left her as she welcomed him back, the wizard she'd loved, with certainty. Never again would she allow doubt to fill her, nor allow harm to come to him.

"How many of these bruises are from me?" she whispered, counting still more as her hands sought to care for him.

"If I said yours were more than half, would that embarrass you, or make you proud?"

She let out a small snort, but didn't answer, as the question answered itself. Instead, she simply continued her healing.

Her warm touch, casting away the pain from the day, sank deep within him, healing far more than the tension in his muscles. He felt a release of dread, of misery, of emptiness as he heard the strength of her heartbeat and drank in her scent.

He'd been given another chance to prove himself to her. Already his mind stirred with visions of the remainder of the spring. N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s were nearly at an end, leaving six weeks before the end of term in June. He would show her how to make the antidote, ask her to teach him about the star map, see what he'd tried to do in her own classes, keep teaching if she needed more time to recover. She could teach here, he would help move her office out of the dungeons, find her warmer private rooms with sunny windows. They could resume their walks (arm in arm) and their visits to the astronomy tower (no warming charm needed now).

Sprout and Longbottom, he would have them make the grounds blossom like never before, perhaps grow desert plants in the greenhouse. The House Elves would need to learn what she liked to eat. He would procure some American wine. He could re-start his Legilimency and Occlumency class, and ask for her help teaching it. He would show her his books in the library and ask to borrow some of hers. Perhaps she would travel and lecture again, now that the danger from Ames was over. He found himself thinking more of the pleasure in their reunion than the loneliness of her absence. He imagined her at the Ministry, with Winder there, and grinned with the smug satisfaction that he had nothing to be concerned about now. She would be brilliant, her reputation would rise, as it should.

He would have Professor Flitwick and Madame Hooch host a spring ball soon, despite his complete aversion to attending. He would claim it was celebrate the end of exams, but the real purpose would be to delight her. The Leaving Feast, the best the school had ever seen, would need to be planned. The end of such a remarkable year would require a remarkable send-off.

And perhaps, if he didn't make a complete fool of himself, on the solstice in June, once the students and the rest of the staff had departed, he would take her on a walk in the afternoon. He had imagined this several times before, when he'd allowed his mind to wander much farther than it should. They would walk to the far side of the lake, with his sample case holding a bottle of goblin wine, French bread, Scottish butter, and Swiss chocolate, in addition to the collection jars. After collecting something rare that he knew would delight her, perhaps Acid-Spitting Snails, he would spread his cloak wide and invite her to join him for a break. Perhaps an Incendio spell to start a small fire, though they wouldn't even need a warming charm. Just after sunset, once she was well-fed and relaxed, he would kneel beside her, drawing a silver ring set with an emerald from his jacket. They would stare at the sky together until the moon rose and the stars came out.

It was possible now, she had agreed to stay. Here she was in his arms, an impossible thought only hours before. Now, anything seemed possible.

Morgan Hunter's thoughts were tumbling like the stones of a rockslide, crashing into one another before being tossed aside as some other thought intruded. Now that she said she would stay, how would things be? What would she do? Was she well enough to resume teaching or did she need more recovery? They hadn't talked about what would happen at the end of the year, but she knew they would have a great deal of time to talk. What did she want out of staying? A job next year? An able research partner? Yes, but her goals were so much larger than simply her career. All those dark nights spent alone, the times she felt herself on the edge of madness, those weren't about a fading career or needing a better paycheck.

As she continued to seek out and heal his injuries, she put her thoughts into two columns, as usual. There were more than enough bruises for her to become frustrated and abandon the exercise, as usual. The next step was clear. She had wasted so much time with indecision, but now she knew with certainty what she was seeing. She knew this wizard, inside and out.

She drew him back up to sit beside her on the bench and held his hand in hers. She ran her fingers over the back of his hand distractedly as she fidgeted, swinging her feet slightly.

"Severus," she began haltingly, looking downward at their intertwined hands.

He turned to her, concern in his eyes. The yellow fringes of his aura intensified. She forged ahead.

"I want to go to Sedona in the summer."

He wasn't surprised that she would want to return to her home, especially given her condition, still weak from Ames's attack. The days here at Hogwarts were getting longer and warmer, but nothing like the desert, as he now knew. She would want to be somewhere more familiar, with her friends who were concerned for her. Perhaps she would heal better there, in the warm, dry air. Her recovery was his most important goal, even if it meant his spending some time alone again.

She winced at his very best "Hogwarts' Headmaster" tone. The consummate professional, even now. "Of course. I hope you don't think you need to request permission. Your summer travel plans are your own business, Morgan."

She smiled. "I want you to come with me."

He smiled back ruefully. "It's very kind of you, Morgan, knowing how very much I wish I could, but the conditions of my sentence won't allow it. You are not yet tenured faculty. Even if I was able to press someone on the staff into service, I would be hard-pressed to claim my travel was for school business."

"Is there any kind of appeals process to the Wizengamot? Might Arboreus request an exception be made?"

"The Wizengamot is not known for their flexibility or mercy, I'm afraid."

She looked up at him, gripped his hand more strongly. "Even for your honeymoon, Severus?"

He held up a hand in protest, shaking his head. "No, not even for…" He stopped an instant later. "What did you say, Morgan?" he said softly.

She grinned. "Your honeymoon, Severus. I want to take you to Sedona on your honeymoon. Will you marry me, Severus Snape, and take your honeymoon with me, in the desert?"

She had allowed herself to imagine this moment before, but never like this. She had hoped they would be travelling together, perhaps to Borealis Hall this past winter. After spending the day lecturing, followed by a dinner with the faculty and staff, she might finally convince him to take a walk alone with her into the cold, snow-drifted hills. Her hair would be put up in traditional whorls on either side of her head. She would point out planets and constellations in the night sky; perhaps the aurora would be present overhead. She would have a wineskin filled with a deep red California wine and put a warming charm on her full, white cloak. She would open a leather pouch she would have tied to her belt and offer him the ceremonial white corn meal she had ground herself and ask him. She hadn't planned on her needing to heal wounds in him she'd caused herself, nor on looking (and feeling) more like someone who needed to go to the Hospital Wing more so than one who had been released from it.

Morgan Hunter made a habit of up-ending all his plans, of defying all his expectations. She had since before they'd even met. This was no exception. He had no objection to her saving him the chance of fouling things up, as was his habit in matters of the heart. Once he'd had a moment to process what she'd said, to see in her eyes that this was not a joke, he gathered her into his lap as he had done so many times before, wrapping his long arms around her small body, his hands finding her shoulders and her neck, drawing her to him, and kissing her. This kiss, however, was unlike any other that had come before it. Completely unburdened by thoughts of her leaving, that she had some ulterior motive, by the inevitable disaster at the end of the year, by the knowledge that she would leave him once she found out about his past. His only thought was "yes," though this was quickly followed by "how soon?"

All her anxieties melted away as she kissed him, drawing him ever closer, tightening her embrace, her exhaustion from the day fading as she relaxed into his arms. When at last they drew apart, she smiled and rested her head against his chest, hearing his heart beating strongly as he rested back against the wall.

"May I take that as a 'yes?'" she asked.

It was so rare that she'd seen him smile, even during their times together before. His expression was typically one of some range from troubled to angry, with brief stretches of concern, irritation, and inquisitiveness in between. His face was transformed.

"You may indeed, my future Mrs. Snape," he replied.

She pulled away from him, an expression of puzzled amusement on her face. "No, Severus."

He looked at her in alarm.

"Would you consent to be Mr. Hunter?" she asked cheekily.

What was she on about?

"I don't know what you mean…" he started angrily.

"I mean, I will be your wife, but I won't be 'Mrs. Snape.' Unless you decide to be 'Mr. Hunter,' that is." It took him a moment to sift through her words. She was joking with him, about names. But she had said again she would be his wife.

"Morgan, be whomever you wish, so long as you'll be my wife," he said desperately, his voice cracking.

"I will be your wife, Severus Snape," she said simply. "Will you be my husband?"

"I will," he said fervently, drawing her lips to his once more. He felt the jolt of electricity just like the night in the forest. She remembered their embrace during the Halloween Ball. Now there were no bluebells, no prying eyes to bring a stop to things, no worries of fortunes to be gained or lost. The softness of her lips was heaven. The silkiness as she ran her fingers through his hair and felt his response. The scent of her filling his nose as he drank it in as though for the first time. The feeling of his bones under his skin as she touched his cheek.

Hermione and Ron had insisted they accompany Harry when he returned to Slughorn's old classroom to give the Headmaster and Dr. Hunter the update on Janiss's condition.

"They might need a Healer," Hermione had said. "Madame Pomfrey can't be spared, but I already know plenty of healing spells for first-aid at least."

"And I'll cover for you, if they launch hexes at you like last time," added Ginny. Harry didn't bother to explain again that they'd ceased their duel when he had arrived. In fact, he'd gotten the distinct impression that neither of them believed him. Either that, or they wanted to see the spectacle for themselves, at close range. Ron tagged along, too, but at least he made no excuse for himself.

"I'd love to see Snape cast on his rear again," he said, too enthusiastically.

Thankfully, they'd made their plans while in the infirmary. Harry was certain if they'd been in the Common Room or the library, they might have a gang of dozens following them, all wanting to be able to deliver a first-hand report on the sight of Dr. Hunter standing over a defeated Snape. Harry himself felt more than a little trepidation. Seeing Snape on the ground twice today brought back painful memories of finding him after the battle, memories that tended to bring back every other awful part of that time. If he had managed to destroy any relationship with both Deputy Alexander and Dr. Hunter in a single day, he would be perilously close to self-destruction. Harry was sure of that.

This time, Harry approached the classroom cautiously, creeping slowly down the corridor. The door was still open, but no sound came out. Perhaps they had placed a Silencio charm so as not to attract attention from the noise. Harry put a finger to his lips to signal the others to approach cautiously and silently. He gestured for them to line up carefully behind him once they got closer to the door. Ignoring all advice to be cautious, Ron walked up to the door and peeked around it, despite Harry grabbing his arm. Ginny jumped out to protect her brother from the on-coming hexes as Ron gasped.

Rather than turning paler, Ron blushed a deep red and threw himself backward against the door, mouth silently agape. Ginny, too, looked gobsmacked, lowered her wand, and walked back a few paces, blinking her eyes and shaking her head. Hermione rolled her eyes at their theatrics, but couldn't resist for long. She and Harry both peeked carefully around the edge of the door.

"Harry, you are such a rotten joker," she muttered.

For all the things he'd seen today, this was perhaps the most stunning and unexpected yet. The classroom, far from being a battle ground, was filled with the light of the late afternoon sun streaming in through the stained glass windows that glowed with jewel-toned warmth. The new desks, deeply carved with magical plants and creatures, were neatly aligned, the chalkboards filled with some potion or another drawn out, several grade levels of Potions books now lined up, chairs ready for students. Even more unlikely were Snape and Dr. Hunter, engaged in the most passionate kiss Harry had ever witnessed, Dr. Hunter seated across Snape's lap, her hands in his greasy hair, his arms encircling her, pulling her closer.

Harry withdrew quickly back into the hallway. What had he just seen? Had Snape overcome Dr. Hunter in battle after he'd left, captured her? Was he restraining her? He struggled to make sense of the events of the day, but without success. Warily, he allowed a single lens of his glasses to protrude back around the doorframe for another glance. Sure enough, they still looked like something out of a lecture on Love Potions, especially the warnings about the effects of Love Potions that were made too strong. Snape's face had an expression Harry had never seen on it. If he had to guess, he would have said contentment.

Harry withdrew again, pulling Hermione reluctantly from the scene. Ron was still breathing hard and Ginny had some kind of look on her face as she regarded Harry that made him distinctly unsettled. He hoped he wasn't expecting something like that from him. At least, not anytime soon. Hermione looked at him accusingly.

"I thought they were dueling, Harry," she accused him gruffly.

Harry pointed silently to the deep hole marring the wall across from the door, the dislodged chunk of stone still taking up part of the corridor.

"They were. That's the one that missed me."

Everyone looked on open-mouthed.

"I guess they made up," Ron finally said.

'I guess so," Ginny agreed.

"We still need to tell them about Janiss," Hermione said, prodding Harry back towards the door.

Harry really didn't want to intrude, being sure that Snape would jinx him (and probably with accurate aim) for interrupting a moment like this. "Janiss is doing much better, she's regained consciousness, so it's not urgent, right?" he protested to Hermione.

Hermione glared. "She might need more antidote. And both of them will want to know how she's doing. Now, GO Harry."

Harry stood to his full height and straightened his robes. He righted his glasses and smoothed his hair uselessly. He pocketed his wand, then cleared his throat noisily before calling out. "Headmaster, I have an update on Janiss."

They had heard their observers approach, but didn't care to part too quickly.

"Enter," Snape said, the irritation in his voice by habit belied by the jollity in his eyes as he regarded Morgan.

Harry entered cautiously, the others not far behind him, the lot of them blushing like they'd been caught in some shadowy nook themselves.

Hunter stood, turning her attention to Harry, smoothing her robes. "How is she, Mr. Potter? Did the antidote work as it should?"

Harry nodded, relieved that no hexes or jinxes were coming his way and that Dr. Hunter, at least, didn't seem irritated to see him. Hermione interjected. "It worked wonders, she's already awake."

Hunter looked back at Snape and smiled. Snape stood, brushing dust from his jacket. "She'll need another dose if she's able to swallow." He turned to Hunter and offered her his arm. "Shall we, my love?" She smiled up at him and took the offered arm and departed, his other hand resting on top of hers as though he were afraid she might fall off. With sidelong glances at one another, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron set off towards the infirmary, still amazed and confused by the sight of the Potions Mistress affectionately on the arm of the Headmaster.