A/N: I'd like to credit one of my awesome readers, Mangodress, for the inspiration for a part of this chapter.

My apologies for the late update. I was pulled into a writers' competition and spent far too much time on my entry (I know, excuses, excuses). Thank you for your patience with me.

We are nearly at the end of this tale. Thanks for reading!

-slbb

The door behind Hermione swung shut with a bump and a tinkle of bells. She entered the dark jewelry shop, Severus trailing closely behind. The proprietor emerged from the back, nodding in hello and illuminating the sconces on the walls with a wave of his wand.

"How may I help you?"

Hermione spied a diamond necklace that she wanted to touch, but thought the better of it.

"My wife and I are shopping for wedding rings."

Hermione felt herself flush at his words and approached the cases, moving her wand from her front pocket to her back one so she could easily lean over the glass.

"Ladies' rings are here. Gentlemen's rings are on the other side," the owner said, walking to the far side of the shop to indicate the specific case. He pulled out a velvet tray and left Severus to it. "Of course, any piece can be charmed to fit," he said, turning back to help Hermione.

Half an hour later, Hermione had tried on almost all the wedding rings in the shop. Severus came up behind her, encircling her in his arms.

"How are you doing?" he asked. "See anything you like?"

"I'm going to wear it forever so it has to be exactly the right one," Hermione said, swiveling to face him. "I just want to be sure."

He smirk-smiled at her. "You're taking more time deciding on your ring than you took deciding on me."

"You were easy! This, however…" Hermione spied another one, a bit more sparkly than the last. "May I try that one?" she asked the proprietor.

"Certainly, madam."

She held it up. "What do you think, Severus?"

"I like whatever you do, Hermione."

She slipped it on and turned her hand to see it in the light from different angles. "This one. I like…this one."

"Good," Severus responded, leaning down to kiss her. "She's decided," he said to the owner.

"A fine choice," the shopkeeper said and left to start the Gringotts transfer paperwork.

"What about you? Did you find something?" Hermione asked when they were alone, unable to look away from the new ring on her left hand.

"I'd like you to pick it out, Hermione." She looked at him curiously. "Another day," he said simply. "Enjoy yours today without thought for mine."

After the purchase was complete, they strolled through Hogsmeade village on the way back to their cottage. As she moved her wand from her back pocket to her front one—momentarily holding it as she brought it around to the front of her body—a bobcat burst from the wood.

"Nonverbal Patronus? Impressive," he said, chuckling.

"I was thinking about how happy I am—how happy you make me—when I touched it." She beamed up at him. "I didn't know I could do that."

He pulled her closer. "Well, we can't have her prancing around Hogsmeade alone," he said, taking out his own wand and sending his panther loping after the bobcat.

Hermione watched in wonder as her Patronus stopped and turned to greet the newcomer. The cats continued playfully down the street, rubbing against each other until they disappeared around a corner a few blocks away.

I'm so happy, that bobcat might last forever.

Hermione leaned against the open doorway to the backyard, watching Severus and fingering the parchment that had arrived a scant hour ago.

Hermione,

I understand congratulations are in order! Word gets around at the Ministry. While I wish you would have told me, I understand why you didn't. Besides, between getting bonded and all this stuff happening with Ron, you've probably been a bit busy, am I right?

Ginny and I wish you every happiness.

Harry

Her Potions Master glanced up from the garden, a handful of earth in one hand, a fledgling Henbane in the other.

"Doing okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said smiling softly, "I am."

"What do you have there?"

"It's an owl from Harry. He and Ginny sent their congratulations."

"Thoughtful of them," he said.

She could see he was trying to keep his sarcasm at bay; she suppressed an even bigger smile and tried her best not to laugh outright at his effort.

"I appreciate you giving Harry a chance," she said as seriously as she could.

He looked at her, his dark eyes now mirthful. "Anything for you, angel."

"Anything?" she said, walking over and raising an eyebrow.

"Anything." He set the young plant in its new home and packed the dirt around it. "I'm almost done. And you can see that this endeavor has made me very…dirty. I do believe a bath is in order."

"Funny you should mention that. I've just finished A Study in Advanced Charms and it was ever so…dusty. I think I need to change my clothes. I might even be persuaded that I need a good soak myself."

"If you would like to run the water…"

"I'll see you inside."

When they had finally emerged from the bathroom, it was nearly evening. Severus had set about cooking yet another delightful dinner. As she sat at the dining room table now, deliciously sated, she glanced down once more at the diamond gracing her third finger, and she was unable to contain a smile yet again.

Severus chuckled and reached over to pour her more wine. "Happy birthday, Wife—just a bit early."

She felt herself blush. The title still felt new and fragile, as if it were written in ink that was not quite dry.

"Thank you, Husband," she replied, relishing the feel of the last word on her tongue.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small black box, silently laying it on the surface between them and nudging it towards her. She looked up from the gift to his infinitely dark eyes. They were unreadable.

"It is a small thing…just a token…" He let his sentence trail off. "I have no way to tell you," he stumbled. "Words fail me." He paused a moment, seemingly to collect himself. "I can only give you this: should I ever suffer the misfortune of being Obliviated and all else fell away, I would still know you, and I would still know I loved you. I would still be certain I am yours and you are mine. I will always know."

Hermione reached for his hand and fought the tears that threatened. "You have given me more than you understand—more than you know, Severus."

He nudged the box closer to her. "Open it, Hermione."

She untied the white satin ribbon. Inside was a diamond necklace nestled in black velvet—the one she'd seen in the shop in Hogsmeade.

"Severus…" she said, touching it gently. "You noticed."

"I never fail to notice you," he said and she grinned. He smiled softly in reply and rose from the table to approach her. "I'm glad you like it. I owled the shop while you were inside reading."

"Thank you. It's so beautiful."

"Come," he said softly, pulling her gently to her feet and leading her to the deep brown leather couch in the adjacent room. She folded herself into its cushions and he settled in next to her, tenderly tucking a curl behind her ear and placing his hands gently on either side of her face. He locked his eyes on hers.

"There is something I would like to show you. Would you permit me…?" he whispered.

She nodded.

"Legilimens," she whispered and suddenly she could see hundreds of memories he had presumably pushed to the surface: images of her through his eyes.

There were almost too many to choose from. She picked one to open…and gasped.

Her body was arched under his, her nipples taut in the chilly night air of the bedroom. He was slowly making love to her, dragging himself deliciously in and out of her warmth. She sensed what it was like to be her lover: she felt her own flesh pressing in on him, surrounding him, wet and soft. She felt him hold his overwhelming need for her at bay, balancing the moment of pleasure with his hunger for release.

He floated another image towards her.

A memory of her looked up to regard him, the reflection of the bedroom's fireplace in her brown eyes. She was sitting cross legged on their bed reading, loosely wearing his white button down shirt, one that he had cast off before taking his shower. She felt the towel draped loosely around his waist; she sensed the cold midnight air sweeping over his back and licking his wet hair.

Through Severus's mind, she began to understand: from his vantage point, the sight of her happily perched on his bed simply staggered him.

It wasn't that she was just light to his darkness; it had never been that simple. Instead, he considered her to be the essence of all his desires: she was velvet to his austerity, agile and graceful where he was inflexible. Gone was the grudging respect for her intelligence; it had been replaced by a genuine regard for her ability, a palpable appreciation for her drive to know and understand.

As he stood dripping on the threshold to the bedroom, his memory of her smiled at him. He gazed back at her with an awe that bordered on worship. She's my wife, his thoughts echoed, my wife, and a fierce possessiveness—and need to protect her—gripped his soul.

She was beauty and solace and comfort. She was all that he had never believed he would know in this lifetime. And she was his.

And he had become whole by losing himself within her.

Severus broke their link and kissed her, slowly and deeply. "It is the only way I know to show you," he whispered, "how much I care for you."

"I love you," Hermione whispered back, hoping her simple words were somehow enough.

"I'm so bloody sick of owls," Hermione sighed, hanging her head and not moving towards the Hogwarts post-bird hopping around on their kitchen counter the next morning.

Severus smiled sadly and relieved the bird of the rolled up parchment. "It's from Poppy. She's asked us to meet her in the Hogwarts infirmary at 3pm."

"Why?"

"It doesn't say."

"Should we go?"

"Since it's Poppy…" he continued with a smile-smirk, "I think it's wise to keep her happy."

"Why do I feel like she's always in charge, no matter what?" Hermione teased.

Severus cocked an eyebrow and just stared at her.

"All right, fine. While I'm there, I can thank her in person for sending my chair."

When Hermione and Severus arrived at the Hogwarts infirmary office, they found that Poppy was not alone. Harry was seated at the desk across from the mediwitch, fidgeting. He looked as if he would rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Hermione stole a glance at her bondmate; he raised an eyebrow in response.

"Mr. Potter," Severus said.

"Professor," Harry responded, standing and offering his hand.

Severus took it and they sat down.

Poppy cleared her throat. "I suppose you are curious as to why we asked you here. Last night, Mr. Potter brought Ronald Weasley to the infirmary for me to attend."

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked. "What does this have to do with—"

"Ron busted up his hand," Harry said, turning to her, his eyes grim.

"Busted up his hand?" Hermione echoed.

"By punching through the wall in his room at Grimmauld. The healing was beyond me. He needed Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione turned to look at Severus. He was staring at Harry, his lips pulled in thin line.

"He had seven broken bones; several were compound fractures. There were also dislocations, deep lacerations, and significant swelling. Without an experienced healer, he might not have regained the use of all of his fingers," Poppy said emotionlessly.

"Wait. Why was he at Grimmauld and not St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked. "He's supposed to be in inpatient detox for thirty days."

"He was released after only three. Arthur Weasley pulled some strings—at least that's what I heard. I assumed you knew," Harry answered, a bit sheepishly. "I guess not."

Severus cursed under his breath.

No one said anything for a moment.

Hermione broke the silence. "But why here? Why didn't he go to St. Mungo's for treatment?"

"When I insisted that he needed to see a healer, he asked to come here. I assume because it would be easier to keep things quiet at Hogwarts. St. Mungo's may have drawn the Ministry's attention."

"But why was he at Grimmauld at all?"

"I had given him until the end of the week to find his own place. He didn't want to go back to the Burrow," Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose and shrugging slightly. "He said it was an accident, but I knew better. Said he'd tripped and landed on it. Not bloody likely, from what I could tell. And not based on what the wall in his room looked like."

"Had he been drinking?"

"I think so," Harry said, frowning.

"Why call us?" Severus asked.

A look passed between Poppy and Harry.

"I didn't believe his story," Harry said simply.

"Obviously." Severus pressed his lips together even harder than before—and waited.

Harry paused. "I may or may not have slipped him Veritaserum and asked him some questions about what he was thinking when it happened."

She saw Severus raise an eyebrow. Poppy's face remained expressionless.

"Harry, using Veritaserum without authorization is a Class One offense. You could lose your job. You could go to jail!" Hermione said, leaning forward in her chair towards Harry.

"What did you expect me to do? He was lying! Besides, I was careful. There were no witnesses."

"That's not the point. You—"

"Allow him to continue, Hermione." Severus turned back to Harry. "I assume we are here because of what you discovered. What was it that you discovered, Mr. Potter?"

Harry paused again. "Ron saw you in Hogsmeade yesterday. Rather, he saw your Patronuses in Hogsmeade yesterday."

Severus smirked.

"I assume he wasn't close enough for the charm to go off otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation right now," Hermione said.

"Right. After seeing them, Ron went home to Grimmauld and punched through his wall." Harry looked uncomfortable. "Look. I got what I could out of him. He hates that you're happy. He's planning to hurt you, Hermione. Trying to figure out some way to make it look like an accident. And he won't care if you wind up dead. In fact, I think he would prefer it."

Severus had taken out his wand and started to rise. She laid her hand on his arm and he froze, halfway out of his chair. "Severus. We'll know when he's near. Your charm will hold."

He seated himself again, reluctantly it seemed. He turned towards her, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them. "He doesn't have to be near you to harm you, Hermione. A poison—" he said softly.

Poppy chose that moment to interrupt him. "Severus, if I may. Mr. Weasley's actions suggest that he would prefer to hurt Hermione with his bare hands rather than with another method. It would be a trifle more…satisfying for him, if you will."

Severus nodded slowly, seeming to accept her assessment. "Did he give you any other details that might prove useful?" he asked, turning back to Harry.

"Not really. He wasn't able to give me specifics, which tells me that he hadn't formed them yet. I just…thought it was important that you both knew."

At that, Severus rose. "Thank you for alerting us. If you will excuse us, we'll be on our way." He nodded to the two still seated around the desk. "Poppy. Mr. Potter."

And he grabbed Hermione's hand and hauled her out of the room, her plan to thank Poppy for her chair utterly forgotten.

As soon as they had reached the hall outside the infirmary, Severus Apparated them back to the cottage's front yard. "I'll make some tea," Hermione said as she opened the front door. "Sit down, Severus. Talk to me."

"This was my concern all along," he said darkly, unbuttoning his frock coat and taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"It's not really a surprise. It's nothing we couldn't have predicted, knowing Ron." She filled the kettle. "We have the charm."

"We do."

"We can't go to the Ministry," Hermione said. "Ron hasn't threatened me directly, and we can't prove anything without revealing Harry's use of the serum."

"True."

"He won't be able to use a Muggle weapon effectively when he's close. His fingers will be too numb," she continued.

"That was my intention."

"You're not saying much, Severus."

"I'm not sure what to say," he admitted.

"So what should we do?"

"We watch. We wait," he said, pulling his hand through his hair.

"Everything will be all right." She set the kettle to heat and crossed the kitchen to put her arms around his shoulders. "You won't let anything happen."

"Of the last, you can be certain."

"I thought since you are no longer headmaster, the Hogwarts elves would no longer be serving us."

Hermione yawned and stretched as the second of the two elves exited the bedroom. She peered curiously at the two trays waiting on their respective nightstands. Their breakfast—whatever it turned out to be underneath the silver plate covers—smelled delightful. Rashers, maybe?

"You don't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Severus asked, chuckling.

"Of course I do." She rolled over to face him and kissed him on the cheek. "But there are other things we could enjoy in bed even more than breakfast."

"And you call me insatiable," he said smugly.

"You've created a monster. A very hungry monster."

"A very enticing monster." He reached over to brush a curl of rebellious hair off her face. "To answer your question, the new headmaster hasn't officially been named yet. I'm not sure the board knows about my resignation. We would have seen it in that bloody excuse for a newspaper."

Hermione huffed a laugh.

"Can we go to Diagon Alley today? I want to shop for a ring for you." Hermione said, reaching for her tray. "I can't let you continue to walk around without wearing a wedding band. I don't want Poppy getting any ideas."

"It's not as if she doesn't have them already," he teased, retrieving the day's Prophet from under his breakfast plate. "And a ring may not stop her anyway."

"Well, it might distract her long enough for me to drag you away."

She lifted the lid on her plate. It was indeed rashers. She stuffed one in her mouth.

"I'd pay galleons to see that." He smirked and unfolded the newspaper. "They are about to put Arthur on the Ministry's throne without any messy publicity," Severus said snidely. "And according to the Prophet, Minister-elect Weasley will be in Diagon Alley today. So, I'm not sure this is the right day for a visit."

"He'll be in Diagon Alley? I'd probably feel better in a crowd anyway. Less chance Ron would try something with so many witnesses around," Hermione said around a mouthful.

"I don't necessarily agree with you," he said, putting down the Prophet. "Crowds can hide a multitude of things."

"The streets will be crawling with Aurors to protect Kingsley and Arthur." She placed the tray back on her nightstand and moved closer to Severus to lay her head on his chest. "Besides, we can't live trapped in the cottage. I refuse to live that way."

"I don't necessarily disagree with that." He threaded his fingers in her hair and began to play with a curl. "You must promise me to be careful."

"Of course," she said and reached up to reward him with a kiss.

"Delicious," he said, and smiled at her.

"It's here," Hermione said, squinting in the midday sun and indicating a tiny shop with jewelry neatly displayed in the window. "Wait for me right outside? I won't be long."

He nodded as she walked up a few stone steps and entered the shop.

Diagon Alley Jewelry couldn't have been more different than the store in Hogsmeade: it was bright and newly remodeled, with a young, smartly dressed witch at the counter.

"Hello, miss. How may I assist you today?"

"I'm looking for a wedding band for my husband," Hermione replied. "Something with a simple design—no stones—perhaps in platinum or something similar."

The woman behind the counter pulled out several trays of rings. Hermione scanned them and removed a plain band crafted in dark metal and palmed it to feel its weight in her hand.

"This is the one."

"Well, that was quick, madam. Very good."

The shopkeeper disappeared to finalize the purchase.

Hermione looked up at the growing noise outside the shop.

A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, swaying like a tide as officials from the Ministry passed by on the street. Hermione could just make out the hat atop Kingsley's head. The entourage was closely followed by a handful of rabid reporters and photographers, all jostling to get the closer to Kingsley. Rita Skeeter led the pack, acid-green Quick-Quotes quill already scribbling furiously.

The majority of the crowd vanished in the direction of the nearby square.

The witch behind the counter returned, thanked her, and handed her a small bag. Hermione hid it inside the pocket of her robes.

Smiling, Hermione opened the door. The wind had picked up, encouraged by a line of approaching clouds. She glanced around for Severus. She found him standing a few feet down the sidewalk, his head turned away from her, his eyes trained down the alleyway across from the jewelry shop. He was staring, stock still. The breeze ruffled his robes, exposing his right hand; it was gripping his wand tightly amongst the folds of fabric. She followed his gaze.

Ron was there.

Her former best friend was leaning against the lumpy side of an ancient brick building. His arms were crossed. He was devoid of any outward mark of magic; instead, he was clad in what looked to be a battered brown leather jacket and denims. For some reason Hermione couldn't fathom, his choice of clothing made her even more uneasy.

She met his eye. Ron stared back at her, his unmistakable ginger hair moving slightly in the breeze. He shifted then, unfolding his arms and stepping away from the alley wall. He opened and closed his fists, as if he were trying to stretch is fingers. As his coat opened, the afternoon light revealed a glint of metal tucked in his belt.

She was certain it was a knife.

He sneered at her. It was the same sneer that had mocked her before she'd been thrown down the stairs. It was the same sneer that had marked the face of a witch that had used a blade against her and nearly won.

Her hand flew protectively to her throat, the tip of her index finger brushing the scar near her jugular.

She wobbled on her feet, almost collapsing down the three stairs that led from the door to the chilly sidewalk, and stumbled to Severus's side. He kept his gaze trained on the alley.

"He's here," Severus said without turning to her, without needing to identify the person in question.

"Yes."

It was all she could muster.

If I use the Time Turner I could make this all go away. I won't be home the day he threw me down the stairs. Wait…I'll change it so I'll never even live at Grimmauld. In fact, I'll keep Ron from drinking in the first place. Severus and I could live in peace and—

Another flash of silver flickered across her vision as the daylight fought for her attention.

In that moment, Severus's words came to her: "It's not the answer, Hermione. You know this. You can't undo what has been done. The Time Turner doesn't work that way," he said gently. "He would find another, similar way to hurt you."

Using the Time Turner wouldn't fix anything.

"He's keeping just outside the perimeter of the charm," Severus snarled. "Motherfucker." He set his jaw and stepped onto the cobblestone street from the sidewalk.

She couldn't allow Severus to act. Because he would shoulder the blame. And she would lose him to Azkaban.

She had to do something herself. Now.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "No."

Severus didn't look at her. She saw his jaw clench. "No?"

"No," she repeated. "Please. I have to be the one to do this. It has to be me."

She'd been the one who had suffered at Ron's hands, not Severus. And she knew Ron wasn't going to stop. Who would be his next victim? The blonde witch she'd discovered in his bed? The stranger wearing the too-short skirt in the pub?

Whether it was today or next week or next year, Ron was planning to hurt her again, and if Severus lost her, it would kill him.

And she owed Severus a lifetime. She'd promised…a lifetime.

Half a block down to their right, witches and wizards had gathered around a stage and a raised podium. Hermione turned her eyes from the small crowd and back towards the alley, tentatively placing a foot onto the street.

She met Ron's eyes again. Suddenly her feet were glued to the cobblestone.

Ron scoffed at her, as if to say See, I knew you wouldn't have the courage to do it.

Her feet refused to take another step.

The magically amplified sound of someone clearing their throat resonated through the air. It was Kingsley.

"Welcome, friends. As many of you already know, I will be stepping down as Minister of Magic. It has been my pleasure to serve the Wizarding world during its time of need, and I am grateful for all the support…"

Cheers of the crowd temporarily drowned out Kingsley's voice.

"…I have the pleasure of announcing that the Ministry has chosen a new leader, one who…"

More cheers.

"…I am here to introduce that very wizard to you. You may know him as a friend or a colleague, or you may know him through the fine pages of our own Daily Prophet. He is a humble wizard, a wizard who eschews even the notion that he is a war hero. I assure you, however, that he is. Not only have I fought by his side in the Battle of Hogwarts…"

If she didn't have the strength to do this now—right now—she never would. But her feet still wouldn't move.

She turned to glance at her bondmate. Her Potions Master was as fixed as stone, his wand out, his obsidian robes motionless around him.

Another barely-heard Sonorus reverberated through the air.

"Hullo. My name is Arthur Weasley. I am here to accept..."

Ron continued to jeer at her.

The voice of her would-be father-in-law had somehow convinced her feet to move.

One step.

She could see Ron laughing at her. Taunting her.

Another step.

Ron glared at her but didn't back away, as if to say You wouldn't dare.

She took the final step, the one that put Ron within one hundred feet of her.

The one that condemned him to Azkaban.

A shrill screech pierced the air all around them, followed by an explosion of CRACKS as three Aurors Apparated directly into the alleyway, wands already drawn. Hermione whispered a prayer of thanks that Harry was not among them.

The reporters and photographers turned their eyes away from Arthur Weasley and to the object of the Aurors' attention—a young wizard frozen in a malicious sneer, knife already in hand.

And from within the crowd, a woman began to scream her son's name.