Two wizards appeared down the long, echoing hall of the Hogwarts infirmary, their shoes clicking sharply on the tile, their eyes searching the empty ward. When their gaze fell on Hermione, they glanced at each other and approached. They stopped in the walkway near the end of her cot.

The taller one took a step towards her. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes…?"

"I'm Auror Bane Urquart from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and this is my partner, Auror Ivan Tudorov."

"A pleasure." She glanced to Severus, who was standing across the hall, staring out the window to the Hogwarts grounds, hands folded leisurely behind his back.

"We need to speak with you about yesterday's…events."

"What events?"

"The events that put you here in the infirmary, Miss Granger," Urquart responded as if she were obtuse. "Healer Poppy Pomfrey contacted us as is required in situations such as this one."

"I see," she responded neutrally.

"This situation is quite…concerning to the main office."

She stilled her face to impassivity. "In what way?"

"Both the event and identity of the accused are…troubling," Urquart responded, shifting on his feet and avoiding her question.

"Speak your mind, Auror," Severus cut in from across the room, turning his back on the view, his black eyes icy. Urquart glanced at his partner, then eyed her leather-and-denims-clad Potions Master warily.

"Headmaster Snape, the Minister has expressed reluctance to pursue charges against an Order of Merlin, Second Class," replied Tudorov in a thick accent, seemingly unconcerned about his partner's disquiet.

"Who said anything about charges?" asked Hermione, her curiosity surpassing her annoyance.

"It tends to be the natural course of action in cases like these." Urquart responded. "We've interviewed Mr. Potter already, and he described what transpired. Mr. Weasley is already in custody, as per Mr. Potter's…insistence."

"Hold on. I don't understand. Why is Ron in custody if the Minister does not want charges filed?" asked Hermione.

"Because Harry Potter does."

Hermione let several choice curses fly.

"So you are in a difficult spot, aren't you, Auror? Did Shacklebolt send you here to convince Miss Granger not to press charges? So she can be your scapegoat when the Chosen One demands to know why Mr. Weasley has not been charged?" Severus said, his voice steel.

"It is her decision. She was the injured party," Tudorov said.

"Let me get this straight," Hermione said. "Harry wants Ron charged. Kingsley wants the entire thing to go away. And—although I was the injured party, as you put it—" she gestured to Tudorov, "I'm the last person you've contacted, presumably to find out what I would like to do so you can go back to Harry and Kingsley and blame me for whatever mess ensues. Bloody brilliant if you ask me."

"Miss Granger, if you please. The Minister is concerned about the welfare of the wizarding world. Many are still healing and recovering from the war. Mr. Weasley's actions may reflect poorly on…some …wizarding families," Urquart stumbled.

She didn't need to be a Legilimens to suss out what Urquart had not said. Pureblood.

"Are Muggle-borns not part of the wizarding world, Auror Urquart?"

"Miss Granger—"

"Get out," she said softly. They didn't move. "I said, get out," she repeated, a bit louder. "For your information, I am a witch, whatever my blood status is." She paused long enough to relish the shock on Urquart's face as she voiced what he had not. "When I am ready, I will contact you with my decision as to whether or not I will press charges. Until then, do not contact me."

Another glance passed between the two men. "Very well. Good day, Miss Granger," Tudorov said politely enough, and the two Aurors departed the infirmary without a backwards glance.

Hermione and Severus stared at each other pointedly until the sound of the men's footsteps were nearly gone.

"Muffliato."

"How is it that I am the victim yet I feel like I'm in as much trouble as the accused?"

Severus smirked. "I suspect the blood prejudice comes from Urquart, not Shacklebolt," he said, sitting down on the bed next to her. His weight dipped the cot, so she fell closer towards him. He took the opportunity to put his arm around her.

"It's Arthur and Molly isn't it? They have Kingsley's ear."

"Weasley and Shacklebolt are close, certainly. My guess is that the Weasleys do not want to lose another son, even to Azkaban," Severus said.

Hermione was silent for a moment, thinking. "Harry is nearly done with Auror training, so Urquart might be working alongside Harry soon. He might think by getting the charges to stick, he can get on Harry's good side. Best to keep The Chosen One on good terms," she said snidely.

"A prudent and far-sighted career move, since Shacklebolt has been clear that he doesn't want to be Minister forever."

Hermione chewed on his comment for a moment. "I need to see Harry," she said, setting her jaw.

"Potter informed me that he will be bringing your wand later this morning."

"Well, I guess it can wait until then."

Poppy bustled into the main ward, Daily Profit in hand. Severus dropped the Muffliato. "Miss Granger. Severus."

"Poppy."

"I just turned away a reporter from the Daily Prophet," the mediwitch said, shaking her head in disgust. "It seems, however, they already have the gist of the story." She handed the newspaper to Severus. "I advise against reading it, but I know you will anyway."

Severus harrumphed.

"They're vultures, nothing less," Poppy said, exasperated. "Take her home, Severus, before it becomes a circus."

"It may be too late for such aspirations. But thank you, Poppy."

"Certainly." She reached for Hermione's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Miss Granger," she said, "take care of Severus." Hermione had the distinct impression Poppy had almost said My Sweetie instead of Severus.

"I will, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, still unable to address the school mediwitch by her first name.

As Poppy strode away, Severus unfolded the newspaper. "The Daily Prophet's most eligible witch is now making headlines outside the gossip column."

"Ugh. I don't want to know."

"It could have been worse. Skeeter could have written the article."

Hermione hung her head. "I don't even want to think about that."

The tall wooden door to the ward opened revealing dark hair, round glasses, and the rumpled jacket of Hermione's best friend. Severus stood.

"Harry!"

"How are you?" Harry asked, his brow wrinkled in concern as he approached.

"Much better. Poppy says I can go home today."

"Brilliant!" Harry said. "Here's your wand."

"Thanks."

"Listen," he said, his voice becoming serious, "Ron's in custody at the Ministry. I wanted you to know so you feel safe coming home."

She hesitated. "I'm not coming back to Grimmauld Place, Harry."

Harry's eyes flicked to her Potions Master. "I see."

"Harry—"

"Look, it's fine. I understand," he said putting up his hand to stop her from saying anything more. He took a breath and slumped his shoulders. "It's my fault. I should have protected you."

"That is not your job, Mr. Potter. It's mine," Severus said, his cold voice daring Harry to argue. He locked his eyes on Harry's from the other side of her cot. Hermione smiled up at her Potions Master.

She turned back to her best friend, her smile becoming sorrowful. "And it's not your fault. It's Ron's."

"Well then, the sooner we have him charged, the better." Bitterness dripped from each word.

"Harry, you're talking about your best friend."

"It doesn't matter anymore. He hurt you," he said, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

Hermione paused. "Kingsley doesn't want him charged."

"I don't give a damn what Kingsley wants."

"He's the Minister."

"So? Look, it's my house. Maybe I don't want him living there with Ginny and me. Maybe he'll hurt Ginny next. Or burn the place down in a fit of rage or something."

"That's understandable, Harry. He doesn't have to live at Grimmauld anymore. He can go back to The Burrow, or wherever. That doesn't have anything to do with him being charged," Hermione said. "I've been saying all along he needs help."

"So you are going to do nothing? After what he did? You can't be serious."

"I didn't say that. I never said that. But I'm the one that gets to decide. Not you. And not Kingsley."

Harry said nothing for a moment. "He stays in custody until you make a decision."

Hermione glanced to Severus; he nodded slightly. She turned back to her best friend. "Okay. That seems to be a fair compromise. Have you seen Mrs. Weasley yet?"

Harry harrumphed. "Not yet. Ginny tells me she's in a right state. Once she finds out that I was the one that called the Aurors to have Ron taken in…" He crossed his arms. "I have no idea what she'll do. She's going to need to cool off first before she gets near me."

"Is Ginny okay?"

"I've never seen her so angry."

"I'll bet. Listen, I'll let you know what I decide," Hermione said, "I need to think about it, that's all. I need some time."

"Okay," Harry said. He turned to Severus. "Take care of her."

Hermione saw Severus swallow a retort, likely something on the order of don't presume to tell me what to do, Potter. "Of course," her Potions Master said with a sneer. Harry departed down the corridor and Severus sat back down on the bed. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I will send the Hogwarts house elves to retrieve your belongings from Grimmauld Place."

"The elves?"

"The ones tasked to serve the Headmaster. And apparently, Headmaster's Special Miss," he smirked.

She huffed a laugh and reached out for his hand. He took it and intertwined his fingers in hers. "I like being your Special Miss. Severus, I just want you to know—Merlin, just what we need. Here comes Molly Weasley," she said, fixing her eyes past her Potions Master down the infirmary hall.

"Popular today, aren't we?" he murmured. Hermione gave him what she hoped was a dark look.

"Molly Weasley. How…unexpected of you to drop by," Severus purred as he rose to standing, nodding in the direction of the newest visitor.

"Severus. Nice to see you." Mrs. Weasley turned to Hermione. "May I have a word?"

"Anything you can say to me you can say in front of Severus as well."

Mrs. Weasley's lips formed a little o of surprise. "Well, then." She took a breath. "I'm sorry you were hurt, my dear. Boys will be boys."

"Boys will be boys?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "Mrs. Weasley, Ron very nearly killed me. As in, he broke my ankle, and sprained my arm and two of my ribs. As in, I'm very lucky not to have suffered a concussion or broken my neck."

"I'm certain he meant to do no such thing. He probably didn't realize—"

"Begging your pardon, you weren't even there. He pushed me down the stairs. Intentionally." She met the woman's eyes, unflinching.

Mrs. Weasley's hand flew to her throat; she glanced to Severus for help. Her Potions Master remained impassive. "Regardless, I am sorry you were hurt. This little matter at the Ministry, however, has me a bit confused," she said, regaining her composure.

"How so?"

"Ron would only be in custody if he was going to be charged. And he isn't going to be charged, is he, Hermione?" she asked pointedly as if she were talking to a small, errant child.

Hermione gaped at her. Certainly Molly Weasley—the woman who welcomed her into her home and treated her like a daughter—the woman that could have, at one time, been her mother-in-law—the woman she looked to for warmth and comfort—she couldn't be asking her to cover up the fact that she'd been assaulted by her son in a fit of drunken rage? Could she?

"Miss Granger did not request that your son be placed in custody," Severus said evenly, answering for Hermione.

"Then who did?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, rounding on her Potions Master.

"A second witness."

"And who, pray tell, is that?" she sniped, putting her hands on her hips.

"Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter? He was a second witness?"

"Yes. I am the first."

For a moment, Mrs. Weasley seemed to be having difficulty processing this new information. She turned back to Hermione. "Then you will convince Harry that this is simply a misunderstanding," she said in a tone that suggested Hermione not argue.

"A misunderstanding?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. Because that's what it is."

"I can hardly convince Harry of anything once he sets his mind to it."

"Certainly as his—"

Severus cut across her. "Molly. It seems best to discuss this matter directly with Mr. Potter, does it not?"

Mrs. Weasley appeared to understand that she had been dismissed. "I suppose so. Very well, then. I seem to have come to the wrong place. I'll have a word with Harry. Severus. Hermione. Good day."

They waited until she was past the infirmary's wooden double doors before speaking. "Merlin, Severus. She can't really believe I would drop this just because she asked me."

"Blood ties trump everything in Molly's perception of the world."

Hermione sighed. "I want to go home."

"Coincidentally, I want to take you there."

A cloudless midday warmed the bench where Hermione sat in the front yard of the cottage she now shared with Severus. She closed her eyes and angled her face toward the sun. After nearly a day and a half in the stale air of the infirmary, it was nice to just be outside.

She was tired. The ache in her arm and intermittent pain in her ribs had eroded her energy. But she was here, with him. It was all that truly mattered—the Aurors, Kingsley, Mrs. Weasley, Harry, and all their opinions on what she should do next be damned.

Severus wavered between hovering nearby and disappearing into the cottage for long periods of time. He seemed to be trying not to fuss over her, but he didn't seem to know what to do with himself instead. Indecision put him into a black mood: he brooded as he wandered back and forth from the fence to the bench next to her. "Tea?" he asked tentatively, stopping to glance at her while attempting to hide a frown.

Hermione tried not to let her amusement at his predicament show. "Not right now, but thank you." He started pacing again. "You'll wear down the grass there," she said, her lips twitching in a near-smile. He harrumphed, paused, and kept walking.

She decided it was high time they discussed the situation. "Before deciding what I'm going to do, I need to know what you're going to do," Hermione said.

"What I'm going to do?" he echoed.

"Yes. What you're going to do to Ron."

"How is that significant?"

"How is that significant?" she said, her pleasant mood evaporating. "If I have to put Ron in Azkaban to keep him far enough away from you so you can't do something that lands you in Azkaban instead, I will press charges!" she said, throwing up her hands, exasperated.

He stopped and looked at her. "Do you honestly think Mr. Weasley would be safe in Azkaban if I wanted to reach him?" he asked softly.

Hermione had no answer for that. "Maybe if Ron—" His eyes darted away from her and towards the path from the road. Something nearly imperceptible changed about him; it was as if he were making himself taller and more imposing. She let her sentence die.

"Follow my lead," he whispered. "Minister. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Severus called smoothly over his shoulder as Kingsley Shacklebolt reached the gate from the path.

"Severus. Hermione. I'd like a word." he said, closing the gate behind him and strolling up the stone path towards them. "I checked at the infirmary but you had already gone. Poppy suggested I might find you both here," he said, openly assessing them to see if the comment caused offense.

Severus ignored Kingsley's probing stare. "Obviously, Poppy was correct."

"Obviously." Kingsley smiled, but the smile did not touch his eyes. "Feeling better, Hermione?" he asked offhandedly as if she had just gotten over a mild case of the sniffles.

Hermione steeled herself to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "My sprained arm and ribs are a bit better. My fractured ankle has already been healed, Minister."

"Poppy Pomfrey is an excellent healer. I'm certain she cared for you well," he said, inclining his tall frame slightly in her direction.

"She did."

"Nice place you have here, Severus," he said, continuing his stroll around the front yard, making a show of examining the various bushes that softened the fence and cottage's front face. "So about this matter with Ron Weasley…"

Hermione caught Severus's eye. "Yes…?" she said, encouraging Kingsley to continue.

Kingsley turned from investigation of a Hillside Gorse bush to look pointedly in her direction. "I'm concerned…certain people are…overreacting to the situation at hand."

Hermione kept herself from glancing at Severus. "Overreacting?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Poppy assured me that you will heal nicely. There's no permanent damage. And you seem to be fine. I've been assured that Ron is quite sorry for what happened. What would be the point of sending a young man to Azkaban for an extended period of time over an incident such as this one? Wouldn't it be best to put it behind us and move on?"

She felt her face flush with anger. "Certainly it is my prerogative as to whether or not Ron is charged, Minister."

"That's true," he conceded. "It's also true that you are close to the Weasley family and any…charges may disrupt that relationship."

"Are you suggesting that I not to press charges?"

"I'm suggesting that you to consider your options."

She looked to her Potions Master as he answered for her. "Miss Granger will agree to assess 'other options' if you agree to keep Mr. Weasley in custody for the time being. Once her arm and ribs are fully healed—perhaps several days from now—she will be open to further discussions on this matter." Kingsley glanced to Hermione to confirm that, indeed, Severus could speak for her. She set her jaw under his scrutiny.

Kingsley locked eyes with Severus, assessing. He seemed to reach a decision. "Very well then, it's agreed. I will keep Ron Weasley in custody for now, and return here in three days' time to discuss this matter further."

"Thank you, Minister," Hermione said.

"Minister," Severus said, inclining his head subtly.

"Good day," Kingsley responded and twisted away.

"Merlin, Severus, will it ever end?" she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Not for a while, I'm afraid." He sat down on the bench next to her. "Have you thought about what you want, Hermione?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Assuming I don't act?" he smirked. He reached up to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear.

She smirked back. "Seriously. Don't joke. Ron needs help."

"You bleeding heart Gryffindor," he drawled, ignoring her request.

"That's me." She sighed. "He needs detox and counseling. In that order."

"St Mungo's has facilities for both." He paused. "Still. There needs to be more of a consequence. Dismemberment comes to mind."

"Nice."

They sat side by side, both staring in front of them. He didn't speak for several long minutes. "Hermione. Would you be concerned about being alone with Mr. Weasley?"

"I suppose, if he were drunk."

"I have a suggestion."

"I knew you would," she said, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

"I assume you are familiar with the Caterwauling Charm."

Hermione chuckled. "You could say that."

Severus raised an eyebrow but otherwise did not inquire. "I believe I am able to create a similar charm. Should Mr. Weasley come within a pre-determined distance from you, the charm will alert in the Auror Office. I can add a component that will prevent him from Apparating. It will also include a modified Trace, so the Aurors can locate and retain him easily."

She stared at him for a moment. "You've been busy."

"I've had a lot of time to think," he said dismissively.

"It just might work, Severus."

"Let me visit the Ministry tomorrow morning and see what I can uncover."

"You're going to wait until tomorrow?"

"Yes," he said, putting his arm around her. "I…am not ready to leave you yet."

"I failed you."

The cool autumn evening spoke of the coming winter, the sky sharp with stars. They sat next to each other at the mahogany dining room table, the warmth from the lively fire in the sitting room filling the air. Severus had insisted on serving her a curry dinner that comforted her in ways that had nothing to do with her hungry belly. After their discussion on the bench, he'd been quiet all afternoon: avoiding her eyes, disappearing into the garden, barely speaking. She looked up at his words. His dark eyes were flat. Grim.

"What do you mean, Severus?" she asked as gently as she could.

"I didn't drop the bastard on the stairs. My wand was out but I was concerned I would hit you. I failed."

"No. You caught me. Besides, even if you had stunned him, I still might have fallen."

Hermione could see that he had not considered the last. The fact staggered her momentarily: Severus was so blinded by a cocktail of guilt and anger, logic was beyond him.

"Still." He pushed away from the table and wandered toward the fireplace in the adjacent room. He kept his back to her, his head bent, his eyes trained on the fire at his feet. "I left you upstairs when you needed protection."

"You had no idea I would need it."

"I should have."

In a way that was true, she supposed. She paused. Cold logic was back and competing for control. "I am grateful you were there. You very likely saved my life." Hermione got up and approached him from behind, putting her arms around him. He continued to stare, unmoving, into the fire. "What is it?" she asked softly.

He was silent for a moment. "Forgive me." He thrust the words at the flames, speaking as if it took all his strength to form them and unstick them from his throat.

"Severus." She yanked on his stiff form until he relented and turned towards her. "Hear me." She reached up to touch his face with her fingertips; he flinched and closed his eyes as if it caused him pain. "I love you. There is nothing to forgive. I want no debt between us."

Hermione had not realized at first that she had said what she did. The words had leapt from her tongue naturally, without thought of reprisal or consequence. And now there was no retreating, no taking them back, no couching love with a more transient in love. As her words faded into silence, she wondered if, at that moment, she had made things decidedly worse.

She saw his dark eyes open and flicker with doubt and then—there it was again—hope. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, her head tight against his chest; he was trembling. She gripped him hard in return. "What would I have done if I had lost you?" he whispered raggedly.

Hermione let that question lie unanswered and untouched in the air between them.

Hermione awoke early the next day to the sound of Severus opening the bedroom's closet door. "Good morning," Severus said. She yawned in reply. She watched as he pulled on his robes in preparation for his visit to the Ministry. "I've warded the property. No one except me will be able to enter without…severe consequences," he smirked. "Rest." He set his wand in his sleeve.

"The Hogwarts elves will be arriving with—"

"Rest." He bent to kiss her on her head. "I'll be back soon."

Two and a half hours later, Severus had still not returned to the cottage. She had taken the opportunity to owl Ginny, not knowing exactly what to say; she decided on Harry probably told you that I'm okay. I hope you are, too. The elves had been and gone. It was nearly lunchtime. What could possibly be keeping him?

Hermione stretched and winced; her ribs were killing her. She was lonely. And he was gone because of what Ron had done.

What seemed like an eternity later, her Potions Master Apparated into the sitting room, his lips twisted sourly. His expression matched her mood. "What did you find out?" she said, looking up from her spot on the couch.

"In a simple domestic violence case—"

"A simple case?"

"The Ministry's wording only. It was not a commentary on your particular situation."

"I fail to see how that wording could be applied to any situation."

He settled down next to her. "Fair enough. In a case where the victim was not mortally injured—"

"Merlin, Severus, these people are mad."

"I have been saying that for years." He reached for her hand as if he were about to deliver bad news. "In your type of case, a minimum thirty day incarceration in Azkaban is mandatory."

"You're kidding."

"No. The minimum thirty day incarceration has been in existence for nearly as long as the Wizengamot has. There is only one record on file in its history where the thirty day sentence was not executed, and that was because the assailant was remanded to a Muggle prison." She looked at him then, truly looked. His infinitely dark eyes were shuttered against her gaze; he was as distant as she had ever seen him. Yet he had reached for her.

He was holding her hand, not to provide comfort, but to receive it.

"You knew." It was a statement, not a question. "You knew, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Before telling you, I wanted to confirm the law had not changed since 1976." He held her eyes for a moment then turned away. 1976…how could I have missed it? It was then she understood.

"Your father was that case."

He nodded. "The Ministry advised him that there was a thirty day minimum sentence. They also informed him that if I—," and he laughed bitterly at that, "—if I chose, I could press charges for a longer sentence, as was my right as her son."

Hermione stayed silent, knowing there was more.

"He demanded a Muggle trial. I believe his parting statement was 'fuck you and all your mothers'. Ever so eloquent. I suppose he preferred his chances in a Muggle prison rather than to face me in a wizard court." His lips curled bitterly. "I never saw him again."

"I'm so sorry."

Severus seemed to regain his composure and said, "This is not about me."

"Strictly speaking, no. But you are still involved. I'm so sorry." She gripped his hand, hard.

"Hermione. Don't."

Hermione took a breath and redirected the subject somewhat. "Kingsley said nothing. Why?"

"Interesting, isn't it?"

"Maybe he thought you had already told me."

"If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that, no, he was wagering I had not told you."

"Maybe he believes as Minister he doesn't have to play by the rules," Hermione said derisively.

"Perhaps. Perhaps he sought to use it as a way to further his request that you do not pursue the case."

"As in, 'Ron's getting thirty days anyway,'" she said.

"Yes. Something like that."

"But why not mention it?"

"I do not know. Shacklebolt's reasons are apparently his own."

"Molly Weasley didn't seem to know."

"It seems odd, but it appears that she does not." Severus took a deep breath. "As I said, a minimum of thirty days is mandatory, required by magical law once a physical injury is reported—whether or not the victim presses charges to extend the sentence. Incidentally, I confirmed that the thirty day sentence may start after a detox or counseling programme is complete."

"Detox, counseling, then thirty days in Azkaban. And your charm, for a while at least. It might be enough."

"We don't need to decide at this moment."

"You're right. I need to talk to Harry and Kingsley." She paused. "Harry first."

"That bloody arse. How could he not tell me? How could he not tell you?" Harry rose and stomped through the sitting room, red faced.

Severus responded for her. "It is possible he did not know, although I believe that to be highly unlikely."

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to dispute the thirty day mandatory sentence," Hermione said.

"There has to be more punishment. He nearly killed you. And this is the second time he's hurt you. He should get sixty, just as a start."

"Severus and I have discussed it," Hermione said. "I'd like Ron to go to inpatient detox then counseling at St Mungo's before Azkaban."

Harry's brow was furrowed as he continued his pacing, hands jammed stiffly in the pockets of his denims. "That's it?" he said, his voice higher than usual.

Severus cut in. "No. You and I are in agreement, Mr. Potter." For once his sneer added silently. "There must be more repercussions for his actions. He must not be allowed near Hermione again."

Harry looked at him expectantly and impatiently, tapping his fingers. "All right, out with it. What's the plan?"

"I can combine the underage magic Trace with a modified Caterwauling Charm to alert the Auror Office if Mr. Weasley comes near her. We can demand the Wizengamot extend his sentence should he do so."

"Can you live with that, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry turned toward her. "Funny you should put it that way. All I've been trying to do is keep you alive."