Disclaimer: I do not own anything that you might recognize in this story.

A/N: Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers. I have been getting some really really great reviews (and I don't just mean the ever so nice ones that stroke my ego, but ones that truly inspire me to write more, and improve the story!) so thank you thank you, it is all for you! I am so happy you are enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it. To all of you who have reviewed continue to do so ever faithfully, and to everyone who has added this story to your alerts and favorites…thank you…thank you…*curtsies*

I hope you enjoy this Severus-centric Chapter as much as I do!

Thanks for reading as always, and I do hope you enjoy.

.lily

Severus walked into his lab and made his way to his desk. He didn't have anything brewing that couldn't wait but he didn't want to sit idle and let his mind wander so he decided to make more Calming Draught. He knew Hermione had already used what he had given her; though she didn't talk about it. He had certainly noticed that all the vials were empty. The school, he knew, could also use another shipment soon. With end of term would come exams and Hogwarts was always a bevy of anxious and over stressed teenagers. He had a flash of brown bushy hair peeking out behind a tower of books flitter through his mind and wondered briefly if there was anything he could do that wouldn't make him think of the woman who's arms he had now woken up in two mornings in a row.

That morning, unlike the one before, Severus had woken first. Again he found himself entangled with the brunette, though the hair itself was a new experience and had been what had ultimately awoken him when he choked on a piece of her hair. Once he had pulled her hair from his mouth and away from her face, tucking it back behind her ear and softly caressing the creamy skin of her cheek, he just laid there next to her watching her sleep and observing her. He could see the pink scar on the corner of her neck that she always worked to keep hidden, and wondered what it was from. There was faint scarring on her right shoulder that looked to an assortment of scrapes in varying depths. He remembered when she had gotten them. She had claimed to have tripped and fallen against the stone hearth. The 'where' she had gotten the injury was believable but he had always believed her husband had been the real cause. He had been so mad at her then. It just a few months ago when their friendship had become something he had started to count on and his feelings for her were crossing more towards those of a man for a woman. It was when she had come in needing more than just bruise paste with wounds that, despite being not terribly deep, were grossly infected. It was difficult to perform spells on one's own wand arm and her husband couldn't be bothered. He was furious looking at her and remembering his own childhood and he wondered when her child would first learn the feel of its father's anger, his fist and his belt. He hated to see such a strong woman allow herself to be beaten like that. He could understand it more now, knowing what he did about the torture she had lived through during the war.

Even with her scars, all he saw was beauty as he held her in his arms. One of her legs had wedged its way in between his again and felt so right and warm and pressed against him in such a way that made it difficult not to want to grind against it. He tried to think of something that wouldn't make him want to take liberties with her body while she was asleep and less likely to stop him. He also wondered if her leg placed between his was the reason his hip was hurting less that morning or if he was too happy to be where he was to notice such trivial things as aches and pains plaguing his body. He looked over her small body nestled so securely against his like she was made to be there and thought of her whispered words the night before.

He wanted to believe that when the word love had been whispered in the air so lightly like pollen dancing in the wind that she had meant it. She was half asleep when the words had come off her lips like a night time prayer. "I love you Severus." He doubted she would even remember having said it. He had wanted to pull her to him and cover her body with kisses, worshipping her in a way she would understand that her words made him feel like a god amongst men. He wanted to tell her that he loved her too. He knew now that he did, without any doubts or questions. He loved her. He had started loving her the second she had kissed his cheek all those months ago and loved her more when she spoke with him about potions journals over Wednesday lunch, never prying into the past he would rather leave buried but allowing him to be the man he wanted to be. He loved her even more when she spent days trekking the mountainside with him, collecting ingredients and hoping to find a miracle and he loved her more the first time he heard his given name on her lips. Now he was in love and it wasn't going to be easy. So few even knew she was friends with him, how was he supposed to expect to just become a part of her life overnight. Soon she would be strong enough and settled enough to feel safe alone at night and then maybe she wouldn't want him there. She wouldn't need his potions all the time and really she had no reason to spend her time with him. He couldn't very well see himself having Sunday Brunch with the Potter's and Weasley's; a tradition he doubted she would give up, even if her marriage had been nothing but a farce. Would she still love him if she were to see his body and the scars that covered it like a road map? Would she still love him when she realized he had been aware every time her husband had hit her and he didn't put a stop to it, that he had noticed the progression in frequency and severity of her wounds and said nothing, because he didn't know how to be there for people? Sure he had emotions, and she managed to pull more of them to the surface than any other could claim to do, but he did not know how to deal with people when it came to those issues that were so emotionally charged that the wrong words could crush a person. He had seen her bruised and wanted to call her an imbecilic waste for allowing herself to be beaten by such a fool as Weasley, but had held his tongue because he knew she would stop coming to him for potions, would stop having lunch with him and he was selfish and wanted to keep her however he could.

It was that selfishness he thought that would be the end of it all. He wanted to keep her to himself. It was the main reason he wanted her as an apprentice; sure, her mind was sharp and her help would enable him to do what he truly loved and research new developments in potions but he could also spend his days with her. He could envision her beauty, her wild hair pulled back and plaited to keep it from contaminating what she was brewing, her mind focused on her task as her hands worked diligently to prepare the next ingredient.

It was a life he feared he would never have, waking up with her like this every morning, kissing her soft mouth and trailing down her body to explore her, waking her with his ministrations. They would make breakfast together and then spend the day at the shop, working in the lab together and then she could run the shop while he worked on research, or he would break down and hire someone so she could research with him. Then they could return home and eat dinner by candlelight and talk about what they had been reading and argue over magical theories and who was the better muggle poet. They could retire to the couch by the fire and talk while she was pressed against him until it got late and he took her to bed to make love to her and then sleep restfully like he could never manage when she wasn't in his arms. It was the fantasy that had been in his mind for far too long and now he felt it within his grasp and he feared the pain would be only that much greater when she came to her senses and suggested that what they had was lovely but more just her gratitude at him saving her and being there for her than it was truly love.

Severus finished the Calming Draught he had been brewing and had a case of vials stoppered and packaged and ready to be shipped to the school when he pulled himself from his thoughts. He knew in the end that it did not matter because even the fear of losing her would not keep him away now. If she wanted him he would be there and he would drink in every ounce of her love that he could get while she offered it. He would help her when he could, Obliviate her when she was ready and kiss her as often as he liked. And he liked to, often.

The main problem he found with kissing Hermione was stopping. Rubbing his hands along her back while her tongue explored the caverns of his mouth made him want to feel her naked flesh, to taste her and bury himself within her. It was one reason he was so happy she wanted to do the Obliviate. He knew that she would have a wall built around her as far as sex was concerned while those memories plagued her mind. She was more or less chaste, though she kissed like she was made for it, and had pushed herself more than he had expected she would and certainly more than he ever would have asked of her, but he would forever treasure the feel of her tight little bum sitting on his lap wiggling against him, the feel of her full breasts pressed against his chest. Oh how he wanted to take those delicious looking mounds into his mouth and lick and suckle them, to taste the sweet milk she was ripe with. He wanted to run his tongue over her body and delve it into her warm wet center tasting that which was purely her and revel in the feel of her coming under his ministrations. He wanted to be the one to wipe the pain she associated with sex away and replace it with pure ecstasy as he devoured her. For now he could do no more than kiss her and take cold showers.

Thoughts of her body had his erection straining against his trousers and a glance at the clock told him he still had twenty minutes until he had to open the shop for the day so rather than pushing the thoughts away and searching for a Deflation Draught he instead decided to take the problem in hand and relieve his stress the old fashioned way.

Severus was sitting in his old leather chair behind his desk, with his fist pumping frantically over his hardened cock as he envisioned Hermione's small frame riding him, her nipples grazing his chest as she rocked her hips back and forth, giving a slight twist to her movements. He was moaning and nearing his completion, thinking of nibbling on her weeping breast, lapping up the milk that spilled forth as she came all over his shaft. He could feel how close he was and pictured her moaning his name. "Sevvvveeerrrus. Severus, oh Severus. Yes Severus." He could hear her voice screaming his name in his head over and over again.

"SNAPE!" Wait, that's not right…that sounds nothing like Hermione, he thought, as he heard it again, this time accompanied with someone banging on his door. "Damn it Snape! Un-ward the damned door!"

Potter, of course Potter is here. How the fuck am I supposed to come with Potters voice in my head? Why can that brat not go away? Severus groaned and stuffed his still partially erect cock back in his pants, having been interrupted before he could find completion.

Severus un-warded the door to the lab and swung it open, fury written all over his face. The Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Get-On-His-Every-Last-Nerve had broken into his shop and interrupted what was proving to be quite a good wank and had better have a damned good reason or would find himself missing certain body parts in retaliation. The thought of castrating the boy actually took a bit of the edge off, it was a nice thought.

"What are you doing here Potter. You broke in to my place of work and are interrupting my…brewing. This had better be good," he snarled.

Harry held his ground. "Look Snape, I don't want to be here but for whatever reason, Hermione trusts you. She cares about you. That was easy to see when I knew to look for it and you obviously care for her, how much I am not even going to contemplate because you fantasizing about my best friend gives me the heebie-jeebies, but someone needs to tell her and no one will," he ground out.

Oh because that just answers everything. Would you like to hear about my fantasies boy, how close they are to reality, how I woke up with her bare thigh rubbing my hard…"Tell her what damn it? Surely you, her best friend, wouldn't be avoiding her when she needs you?" He wanted to tell him that of course he would do anything for the woman he loved, the woman he woke up next to, but he kept that to himself.

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other guiltily. "Look Snape, I don't need to hear it from you. The best way I can help her right now is to find Ron and that bitch before they can cause her more harm. I don't know how much you are aware of. About her wand," he clarified before Severus could ask him to narrow the field…he knew plenty about Potions, and literature, and history both magic and muggle, though he was lacking when it came to his awareness of the latest in fashion.

"I know that she has a new one, that until yesterday she carried Bella's. I also know why. Not just how she came to own it, but why she kept it," he said vaguely.

Harry took a minute to study him, to wonder what he really knew. "Do you know she cast the Killing Curse?" he asked.

"I do. I am sure many in the order did. You have killed. What does it matter if she did the same?" He was seething. What did it matter if she had killed in battle? Why was that so important now?

"Yes Snape, I am not going to bring her up on charges damn it! Do you know who? Do you know who she killed? Did she tell you that when she turns to you instead of her family, huh Snape?" Harry was getting pissed; he was happy she had someone to talk to, even if it was Snape. He had joked with Bill and George about them as a couple but right now this was the Greasy Bat and he was in a pisser of a mood before he had arrived as it was.

Severus wanted to snap his neck. Turns to me instead of her family? You have been avoiding her like she was Peeves. If she doesn't come to you that is your own damned fault you arrogant little piss ant! "Yes. Yes I know. I for one and immensely proud of her. One less rotten piece of filth in this world. Now if you are done making insinuations you can get out or get to the point of this," he snapped, looking every inch the angry Potions Professor Harry remembered from school.

"I just found out she had cast the curse this morning when Kingsley informed me of his findings. He wanted to know what had Auror Mickey so up in arms. That was the last fucking complication we needed. This shit is a mess enough as it is. And if she told that bloody cheating bastard what she did then she is in more danger than I even thought she was before. I thought this was about Ron but maybe I am wrong." He was practically twitching with nervous energy. "Look, she can't be alone and Kingsley wants me on this. I'm leaving straight from here to the States. I've tracked them as far as New York but the trail runs cold there. I am hoping I can find more when I get there. She can't go back to her flat and should stay away from the Burrow; they could find her there too easily. She hadn't been to her parents place since the war, so Ron has never been, that should be safe for now. Verity cannot find her. I have to go. Keep her safe Snape." Harry didn't give him a chance to ask questions or wring his neck which he was itching to do. He turned and stepped out of the shop and was on his broom before Severus could even notice he had it.

"Fuck!" he screamed at no one.

What was going on? Potter just taking off the day Hermione was to bury her daughter. He was supposed to be her best friend. How could he abandon her like that? What the hell did her wand have to do with Weasley's whore? There were more questions than answers and he was ready to snap.

Hermione was meeting with the people at the Milk Bank that morning and then she said she needed to get something to wear to the funeral, because all she had was fit for the body of a girl and made her look like tramp. He personally liked the way her arse cheeks peeked out of the bottoms of her shorts when she bent over and the way everything was so taught across her chest. Though, he didn't really want anyone else to notice that. From shopping, she had said she would go home, nap and then get ready before joining Molly and the Weasley's at the burrow before the service. He would be there at the service and then would wait for her back at her place, knowing she would want to visit, or need to anyhow, and he was not about to sit around the burrow. Now he considered changing that plan. He didn't know what was going on but he would not let her be harmed further. Certainly he would keep her from harm the day she laid her daughter to rest.

Severus walked to his lab and drew his wand shattering the highball glass on his desk, repairing it and then shattering it again. He wished it was Potters head. He wished it was Weasley's head. He hated Weasley for what he had done to her, but for Potter to abandon her now, to not even tell her what was wrong, to somehow expect him to do it when he didn't have all the puzzle pieces. This Verity woman was a wild card. He knew little about her. But Potter was talking about her like she was the real threat. Then again, jealous women could be vicious. He remembered a time Narcissa had caught a woman with Lucius in his parlor, her head between his legs. She had been showing Severus in to see Lucius when they had walked in on the scene and Narcissa was quite creative in her punishments to both. Lucius had been left without the ability to keep an erection longer than a minute for a year, unless Narcissa so chose and she more often than not would have him give her pleasure with the promise of lifting the curse only to change her mind after she had come. The woman had left with the word whore hexed into the skin below her navel and warned of worse should she return.

Severus hated not having the answers. This was confusing enough, and that Potter had come to him with the request meant that people were already talking about his relationship with Hermione. What if people believed they had been having an affair? Even though it turned out her marriage was meaningless it would still hurt her to be painted as some sort of loose woman. She would be blamed for what had happened to her. He could see the headlines now. "Poor Cuckolded War Hero Loses Wife to Sniveling Snape – The Truth behind the Illustrious Affair" expose by Rita "soon to be squashed like the beetle I am" Skeeter. "Wanton Witch Accuses Auror and War Hero Husband of Abuse to Cover her Cavorting" It would be a circus and she would be eaten by the rabid dogs that made up the media.

He suddenly started mentally listing every banned potion that called for live or recently deceased human parts. 'Succubi Serum' required the uterus of a fertile woman taken just after death and the testes of a man taken while alive. It was the worst of the illegal lust potions and afforded the woman full control over her victim even the control over his ejaculations, with the main goal being impregnation. It seemed a fitting punishment for Weasley and his whore after what Hermione had been forced to suffer.

Glancing at the clock Severus realized the shop was supposed to have opened seven minutes ago and Mrs. Wimblebee would be waiting to pick up the order she had placed. Repairing the glass one last time he left the lab to open his Apothecary. He wanted the day to be over. He wanted to be in bed wrapped around the woman who had captured his heart so he could comfort and protect her.

Severus decided as he opened the door to let Mrs. Wimblebee in that if Potter would not be by her side as she put her daughter in the ground that he would, if she would let him. She did not deserve to be let down by anyone else.

A/N: So what do you think? Any more ideas? The next chapter is written and on its way soon! I do hope you enjoyed, though poor Severus is a little upset with me I do think.