Disclaimer: Not mine. Still not…after all this time.

A/N: Another installment, and things are getting a little dark again. Much of this chapter is in italics, and is a memory of Severus. I hope it isn't too confusing.

Thank you all so, so, so, so, so much for your continued support. Your reviews have been amazing and like a balm to my bruised soul. I hope that you continue to enjoy this tale and the twist that it will take. I hope you find that I can still surprise you.

To those of you who have reviewed, both to tell me you loved it, or to point out mistakes and issues, thank you so much. You make me want to keep going. I love you. I truly do.

Moewe: You are a constant thought in my mind as I write. You have become my inner critic and motivator I think, she pushes me on to keep writing, and scolds me when my language is too gratuitously rough and dirty. She sounds suspiciously German. I hope you are well my friend.

All my love, to all of you.

Lily

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Time moved along nicely for the three unlikely housemates. Days easily turned into weeks, and weeks into a month, and before any of them knew it June had turned into July.

Life seemed to have a much better outlook for Hermione. Her relationship with Severus grew stronger every day, and her friendships were being renewed, especially the one with Luna. It hadn't taken long for them to fall into an easy routine that seemed to suit them all, most of all Hermione. Most mornings Hermione would wake to find coffee brewed and ready for her, a mug sitting on her bed side table along with her pump. She would take her time getting herself ready before venturing downstairs; a quick breakfast with Severus and then she would seclude herself in the den to work on her revision, eagerly preparing herself to sit her NEWTS. Severus had nearly completed the renovations on the lab in the cellar and was able to brew most of his potions from home, having hired an additional assistant for the shop to handle the front, and any Owl orders that came in; allowing him to stay home, closer to Hermione and further from dunderheads like Lavender Brown. Luna spent most mornings in the garden sitting amongst the flowers with a notebook scribbling away notes for her book.

Wednesdays still found George and Kingsley joining them for lunch, and Sundays often found them with the Weasleys at the Burrow. Every other day found the three sharing meals, with Luna pressing the boundaries of what Severus thought was polite table conversation. All inquiries into the wand once owned by Bellatrix Lestrange had been postponed until the key witness for the prosecution could be located; or at least that was the spin that Kingsley had put on it, burying it as well as he could, though still driving his team of Aurors, Harry in particular, to track down the red-headed menace.

The biggest change in their lives though wasn't easily noticeable to anyone but the three living in the house. Where Severus had been the strength and comfort and love that Hermione needed to pick up and rebuild her life, Luna was the child like optimism and free spiritedness that brought effortless joy to her face.

Severus came home each night, having dropped off completed potions at the apothecary and checking in on the business. Like his mornings he always knew what to expect, and this hot Thursday evening was no different from the ones before it.

He found the two witches spread out on the sitting room floor with books and parchment all around them. It seemed by the subject matter that Hermione was focusing on revising for Herbology and simultaneously doing some fact checking for Lunas first book. He had been surprised to find he enjoyed the pages they had completed and allowed him to read.

Severus greeted them before heading to the kitchen to prepare an easy meal. With the heat he was not inclined to make anything that would require the use of the stove and instead decided on a fresh green salad with nuts and dates and sandwiches with cold cuts and tomatoes. The three of them enjoyed a companionable meal before Luna excused herself, letting them know that she was heading out. It was fairly common for her to go out at night and explore the city and its nightlife. It seemed following her confinement in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor she had trouble staying confined indoors at night. It seemed quite fitting that her chosen career path had led her into the wilderness so frequently, moving from place to place. She however seemed to be doing well with her new living arrangements, and save for a few times she had stayed the night with someone she had met out, she always returned before today became tomorrow and found within herself the will to sleep for a few hours. Severus had been the first to notice she never shut her bedroom door.

Once Luna was out for the night and Severus and Hermione were alone for the night he knew that he couldn't continue to act as if everything was as good as it seemed. He wasn't sure how to tell her everything though. She had been doing so much better, but he knew that she still struggled. It often seemed to the outside as if the two of them had fallen into each-other's arms seamlessly, hopelessly in love and stronger every day. He certainly loved her, and knew that she felt very much the same, but the road was not an easy one to travel, and never had been. That much had still not changed, despite the joy currently evident in Hermione's eyes.

Late nights still brought about nightmares and light touches could still trigger an unexpected panic attack. Hermione had been so open with him, about more than he ever expected, some of it that he still couldn't understand. It was her most recent confession that had him scared to tell her about the letter that a ministry owl had dropped off for him earlier in the day, delivered to the shop where it was less likely to be opened by Hermione.

They had just gone to bed for the evening, Luna was staying elsewhere for the night, and Hermione lay next to Severus chewing on her lip and looking at him as if she were looking through him, or into him. "I love you so much Severus."

Severus propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her, wondering when his life had become so amazing and utterly unexpected. "And I you, Hermione. Very much," he told her honestly. "I admired your mind for so very long, and somewhere along the line after the war, I could not help but notice that you had grown into a beautiful woman. When we started meeting each other for lunch each week I easily found myself wishing for more time with you."

"I loved you then," she told him. "I don't know exactly when it started, but it was all that kept me moving. So much of it is my fault you know," she told him.

Severus furrowed his brow "What was your fault?"

"Ron," she started. "It was my fault, so much of it was my fault." Tears started streaming down her face.

Severus reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Hermione, none of that was your fault. You have to know that. What he did to you, what they did, it was evil; and none of it was your doing." He was so sure of his words, and she wanted desperately to believe him, but she just shook her head.

"No Severus, so much was my fault. I provoked him. I asked for it," she told him, her voice starting to crack as she tried to explain, starting to fight through the emotional storm that had started raging the minute she decided to tell him.

"You did not ask to be harmed, or to lose your daughter Hermione. You did not ask for every bruise that I saw gracing your delicate skin, none of it was your fault. You need to know that. No one deserved what was done to you," he said, imploring her to see reason.

She just kept crying and shaking her head. "You don't understand. After a while I knew what would set him off most, and when he would start to yell and get angry I would provoke him into action. I knew the sooner he hit me the sooner the fight would be over, and the sooner I would see you. Don't you get it, I am at fault. I didn't even realize that I was doing it, but I had fallen for you without meaning to, and every hit or kick was an excuse to see you." Her admission was full of guilt, and he wasn't quite sure what to say. Certainly it was still not her fault, no matter what she did or said Weasley had no right to do that to her. "I don't even think I meant to do it at first, but more and more when he was done with me I started to realize my first thought was always 'well at least I get to see Severus now' and then I realized that I was doing it on purpose."

Severus just listened as she fell apart in his arms, the shaking of her shoulders rumbling through the mattress. He hated that her life had been so full of poison that it had permeated her soul in such a way that it would always linger. He knew there was no amount of obliviation that would free her from the depths of darkness to which she had been thrust into so early on in her life, and had been forced to swim in ever since. He only hoped to be able to serve as a life preserver, helping to keep her afloat when the darkness threatened to pull her under. He wondered if a day would come when nothing but smooth waters could be seen. He hated to see her blaming herself for everything. He hated more that he had not saved her sooner.

He placed his hands on the sides of her face, caressing her tear stained skin while forcing her to see him and the honesty in his eyes. "Never Hermione, never blame yourself for what they have done to you. Not once have you asked for any of the horrors you have survived. Survived Hermione, where so many would have crumbled and given up, you have persevered. It is part of what drew me to you in the first place. You possess a courage that would leave even Godric Gryffindor in awe. It is enough of an atrocity all that you faced during the war, to live through it and find yourself facing an altogether different evil, this time alone and already so damaged," he paused, kissing her forehead softly, partly to hide the tear that escaped to slide down his own cheek. "It isn't fair, and most certainly is not your fault."

He could see the need to argue in her red rimmed eyes. It was as if blaming herself would somehow lessen the impact of what she had endured to her own mind. But she was so wrong.

"No Hermione. Even if it meant that I never had the opportunity to get to know you as a woman, and not as an insufferable know it all, I would turn time back to before you found yourself with that oaf and save you from that time. I would go back further and save you from the clutches of mad Bella and her pet werewolf even if it meant prolonging the war," he could see the shock in her eyes, at the desire to protect her being worth those imagined costs. Worse he could hear Albus in the back of his head tutting about the 'greater good'. "I would change it all for you if I had that power because I love you, and would do anything to see you free of this pain. You cannot keep blaming yourself for any of it, do not give any of them the power of stripping you of your self-worth when they have already taken so much."

"I love you. I don't deserve you. You can think what you will, but I know I did it to myself. I knew, I knew when he went to her, when he came home reeking of her horrid perfume and I knew he would be more apt to snap. I don't know what made me do it, but before I knew it I was planning out arguments all throughout my day, doing the dishes, the laundry, taking a bath; all became moments of planning his next attack. As time went on and I found myself struggling to keep a consistent hold on my magic it was easier and easier to welcome his temper as a reflection of my own. It was so easy to hate the witch in the mirror, especially as I struggled to feel like one anymore, witch or woman. I felt like neither and no one. Then one day it was like you saw me, underneath bruises and lies that fooled everyone else, you saw me. I would have given anything to be seen. As time moved on I started to see you too. I lived for the moments you let me see beneath your masks to the man underneath. I wanted so badly to know you, for you to know me, I started to push him harder, knowing that when he broke I would have an excuse. I pushed, and pushed, and I knew the outcome. I know it was not how Newton intended his words, but it is true, 'every action has an equal and opposite reaction.' I knew that if I picked a fight of words he would scream back at me, and as much as I shrunk away from his fists they would find me and knock the fighting words from my lips. I knew." She cried and burrowed her head into his chest, repeating 'I knew' over and over like a tormented confession and prayer for forgiveness.

He held her, his arms tight against his back as his nails dug into his palms as he squeezed his hands into tight fists, and his eyes squeezed shut against an onslaught of tears. He literally had to bite his tongue against the urge to scream 'it is not your fault! Blame them! Stop being so bloody self-destructive, they did enough of that for you already.' He wanted to rail at her, to scream at her until she saw reason. It was easy for him, to verbally destroy others arguments until they understood his point. But Hermione was not a first year about to mix explosive potions ingredients for the first time. She was a distraught witch, his distraught witch, and he would not tear her down further. Instead he held her close and whispered soothing words in her ear, knowing very few of them made it through to her.

Eventually her sobs turned to hiccoughs and then sniffles, and soon she was tilting her head to look up into his dark eyes. "I am so sorry Severus. I know you are right, in my head, that rational part of me knows that no matter how I feel I was a victim, that it wasn't my fault, but this part of me, of my soul, just knows that I did this to myself. It wasn't until I knew, until I knew I was…I was…" she struggled fighting the sobs that threatened to return. "It wasn't until I knew I was going to be a mum that I felt I had any more purpose. And even then, I kept thinking," she let her words drift off, too ashamed to finish the thought.

Severus looked at her, the depth of her pain shining in her eyes. It didn't take a Legilimens to read her thoughts, so clearly they shown on her face. He broke for her, as he had done before, and would again before it was all over. But he knew, he knew that to help her rebuild he would first have to help her tear down the false castle her inner demons dwelled in. He would have to help her reach bottom if she was going to rise to the heights she deserved.

"Please tell me your thoughts Hermione, let me in."

Let me help you, it was the unspoken plea he willed her to hear in his thoughts.

She looked him in the eye, and opened herself to him. "I can't. Please don't make me say it." She didn't have to tell him what she meant, she opened herself to him so completely as to leave no room for him to misunderstand.

With trembling hands and a heavy heart Severus delved easily into the depths of her mind, searching for the thoughts she wanted him to see and yet hid in her shame.

At first it was just glimpses of a shattered and tormented witch. He saw fragments of her crying alone in bed, her and Weasley screaming at each-other, Weasleys fist connecting with her side, more and more he saw broken moments of her staring at her own reflection, hatred clear in her eyes. He knew he was getting closer to what she wanted him to know, but was so scared to let him see. He saw the jets of deep blood red, and a burning orange; Cruciatus and a Scorching Spell. He knew of her self-torture, and expected it, but the sudden sickening streak of green nearly caused him to break his connection. He instead latched on to the fleeting image, forcing it forward, while pushing his love for her through the bond they were sharing. He watched in horror as she stood facing her mirror, her face completely devoid of hope or even hatred. Devoid. She stood there a shell of a witch, broken and empty. Her arm lifted as if of its own accord, Bellatrix Lestrange's Walnut and Dragon Heartstring wand held loosely in her small hand. She stood there, staring at the image she made, looking nearly as if she were under the effects of an altogether different Unforgiveable; as if she were Imperiused. She looked nothing like Hermione. Suddenly her whole being snapped and shifted and a rage that had been buried deep within her burst forth and a snarl curled her lips. 'Avada Kedavra.' The words tore from her throat, her voice raw and hoarse and as her wrist snapped a sickening green jet shot forth from the wand she suddenly held firm.

Severus held his breath, even knowing that she had obviously not succumbed to the Killing Curse he could not help but fear for her life in that moment as he watched her memory play out in his head. He watched the curse hit the mirror, shattering it to a million pieces as it bounced off the reflective surface at an unexpected angle, caused by the shards of glass flying in all directions instead of staying in a clean pane of reflective horror. The curse bounced harmlessly off the wall behind her, missing her by a dozen feet. As the mirrors shards rained down on her and around her she buckled under the weight of her own inner pain.

Severus could see what she was thinking in those moments, wishing to just end it all, tired of fighting, tired of hurting, tired of being a disappointment and a failure. She felt broken and hated who she had become. She may as well let him break her further, there was nothing worth fighting for and she didn't think she would have the strength to try the Killing Curse again, and all the potions she could think of that would do the job were not easy to brew or cost more than she could afford without the expense being noted by her husband. No, it was easier to let him remind her who she was. She could give him that much. She may not be able to give him her body how he wanted, but she would give him her body to break.

He could feel the shame at the memory washing over her, but knew instinctively that it was not the one she was most ashamed of, which only made him worry more. He searched, being as gentle as he could with her thoughts, looking for something she was thinking of, and yet still trying to hide. He saw a barrage of images all leading to what she was so scared of admitting. Molly Weasley pressing her about grand babies, Ron telling her she wasn't a real woman, a real smile cracking through when she held an infant Victoire, her hand rubbing over her empty womb as she watched a woman pushing a pram down the street. She could be a real woman, she could have a purpose. He saw the progression of her thoughts. She could be worth something if she could do this one thing. He watched as she begged Severus to help her with the potion that would make pregnancy possible, watched as she started to fall in love with the wizard who was working so hard to give her the thing that would be her salvation. He watched as she accepted her husband's brutality, hearing his own name in the memory of her thoughts whispered to herself as a mantra of hope 'Severus.'

He watched her fight and scream with passion she didn't feel, pushing her husband knowing the outcome. He watched as she seethed with anger she couldn't bother with truly feeling as she called him a lazy sod, an idiot, as she called him pathetic, willing him to hurt her, to make her pay for her failures. He watched as she went inevitably to him for help to heal her wounds. He watched as she forced herself to lay with her husband after the potion was complete, begging the gods to let it work, to give her something to live for.

He watched as she discovered the child living within her, and all of her walls shattered around her as forcefully and obviously as the mirror the last time she had tried to take her own life. She crumbled and cried and howled. She begged for forgiveness from no one, all alone in her bathroom, sprawled on the cold tile. She promised to love her child, even if she could no longer love its father, and again she whispered his name. 'Severus.'

Then the memory shifted and she was pouncing on him in the shop, telling him that it worked, thanking him for his help, and for so much more. She thanked him for saving her, even if he would never know that was what she was thanking him for. She had wanted to die. Begged for it, fought to bring it about, and failed. He had seen to that. He had saved her by giving her the one hope she had left. He gave her a child, and a part of her felt that no matter what anyone else said or believed that child would belong to Severus Snape as much as it did to Ronald Weasley. He had literally bled for her chance to conceive. He had nearly died procuring the rarest ingredient, and would have had to literally give blood to the brew, as the blood of the brewer was required early on to stabilize the base and infuse intent, intent that had to match with that of the foal who had shed blood so that a witch might conceive. Her child would belong to Severus Snape, even if no one else knew. She would know. She would never know how to thank him for what he had done, but she vowed to be a good mother.

Memories flew by as she fought to be a good wife, hoping to end the fighting. She forced smiles and casual banter as she fought to keep herself together. He saw memory after memory of Weasleys control slipping as he continued to brutalize his pregnant wife, and saw her running to Severus, falling for him, needing him, wishing that he could save her again, that he was the baby's real dad. He saw her looking at a potion on his shelf, one she had no need of and had never noticed her see.

She fought the memory, trying to push more thoughts of her falling in love with him to the forefront of her mind, and he knew that he had hit home.

He brushed his knuckles against her jaw and told her he loved her. "It's okay Hermione. Let me see. Let me help. I love you," he begged, tears slowly falling from his eyes and he realized her shame and still sought to confirm it.

Taking a deep breath Hermione stopped fighting him and let him look at the memory she had tried to hide. She continued to cry as the memory played.

She was standing in the shop and he was otherwise engaged with other customers. Ron had beaten her down, choosing to focus most of his energy into verbally berating her and hitting her in the face, careful not to hurt his mum's grand babe, as he had taken to calling the baby growing within her. She stared at the potion in front of her. It was a popular potion, one Severus' account at Gringotts was benefiting from greatly, but it was not a potion that Hermione Granger should have had any use for. Molior was a potion used to treat erectile deficiencies in males. It was not known to do much else, and was not toxic if accidentally ingested. There were stories of prepubescent children who had gotten into their parents potions cabinets and ingested the brew only to end up highly agitated and excitable, and typically unable to sleep, but usually after running off the excess of energy had no lingering ill effects.

There was only one reason that Hermione Granger would be looking at that potion. An article, or rather an aside in an article, one that he had shared with her just weeks before. The article had been about a potioneer in France who was arrested following allegations that he was selling the potions to young men still of a school age, along with another potion meant to lower inhibitions. He was implicated in assisting three young men to ply and rape their school mates and young women from the local village with practically unending energy to expend with their victims. It was a horrible story, and really he never should have shared it with her, but he had been angry on the victim's behalf and had thought it the type of thing to invite the fire in her eyes that he craved. There had been a notation at the bottom of the page that during one assault the men decided to see what would happen if women were given Molior. One of the young women was pregnant, unbeknownst to her attackers. Due to the combination of ingredients in the Molior potion and her prenatal potion she had suffered a miscarriage.

She had suffered a miscarriage.

Miscarriage.

He watched the words flit across her mind. He heard her thoughts. He heard her thinking that maybe it would be better. Maybe she couldn't be a good mother, and a child deserved death before it deserved the home she would bring it into.

He felt her shame as she pushed him out.

He pulled back to look at her. "You never bought it Hermione."

She didn't respond. Just kept crying.

"You didn't buy it. You had a moment of weakness and fear, you saw a way out. A poor one, but an option. You made the right choice and it is not your fault what came to pass," he told her, no longer able to keep a reign on his anger.

His anger was not at her, but at what she had been forced to deal with. He was mad at the world for forcing her to that point.

"You did not kill her. He did. Damn it Hermione. They killed her, not you! You had a moment of gods-forsaken well-earned weakness. Any other witch or wizard for that matter would have given in to death so long before. You are a fighter, and you fought for your daughter. You fought with everything you had. I know that you loved her. I know it, because I loved her. I saw the joy in your eyes when you felt her moving within you. You loved her. It is not your fault. Nothing, nothing you could have done made you deserve this, and I will make them pay for what they have done. I will use everything I learned at the Dark Lords feet to make them suffer for taking her from you, from us. But you have to stop this. You have to stop Hermione. You have to let go of the blame."

Perhaps anger had been the answer because she seemed to snap out of her maudlin mood and nodded. She kissed him softly on the lips and sniffled. "I know. I love her so much," she cried.

He held her close all night, whispering words of love as he ran his fingers through her matted hair. She drifted to sleep in his embrace and he vowed to follow through on his promise to make them pay before a troubled sleep claimed him as well.

That had been over a week ago. Ever since Hermione had seemed lighter. She laughed more with Luna and was freer with her affection, as if the guilt she had released had been holding her back before. She showed a new determination to push forward and succeed. She balanced her studies and helping Luna with ease and was looking forward more and more to being able to sit her exams and start her future as an apprentice.

Luna had sensed that Hermione needed her and hadn't gone out as much the past week, instead talking Hermione into sleeping out on the sitting room floor with pillows piled all around and a bottle of elf mead between them as they giggled endlessly about Luna's love life, and how much fun Luna was having making Severus squirm with knowledge of it.

But the light atmosphere of the past week following her breakdown would not last. The Ministry had seen to that. Ronald Weasley had seen to that.

Severus leaned against a bench in his lab, having made an excuse about checking on a potion quickly.

He had read it over and over all day. He knew he had to tell her. It would only be worse if he did not. He was terrified that beneath the smiles and laughs that nothing could prepare her for what was coming.

He unfolded the parchment again, rereading the missive for Kingsley as if somehow the words on the page might change.

Severus,

I know of no other way to handle this, and my attention is needed here, and it will be noticed if I disappear. I wish I could be there to talk to you in person, but I am afraid that this is the best way I knew to warn you of what is to come. I hope you both can forgive me and trust that I will do everything I can to keep Hermione safe.

Ronald Weasley has been arrested in America. The American Ministry in California has apprehended him for a horrific breach of the Statute of Secrecy. He had been attempting to confund Muggle police officers in an attempt to gain employment. He waved his wand around like an imbecile in the middle of the police department and started attempting to stupefy everyone when they moved to remove the stick he was waving wildly about from his person. I do not believe him to be in his right mind any longer, not that we were not already well aware of that fact.

In their initial investigation they contacted the Ministry here and we are in the process of coordinating with Potters team there to have him brought back.

I wish that was the worst of it. However with his imminent return the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is officially issuing a warrant for Hermione's arrest. He has been talking in custody, and while I know that none of what he is saying can be true I cannot prevent the coming trial any more than I have.

I have asked that she be given until Sunday to turn herself in before the warrant is made public and before the Aurors go to bring her in on their own.

She is to be arrested and tried for the torture and attempted murder of Ronald Bilius Weasley, and for crimes committed during the war that are almost too horrific to mention, but you must be warned.

Ronald has accused her of working with Bellatrix to keep Harry lost during their year on the run, and then using a lie about being tortured herself at the Manor to cover for her divulging Harry's plans to the mad woman so that she could report to her Master. He accused her of being a spy for Voldemort. She stands accused of the murder of Griphook the Goblin. He even accused her of convincing Harry to go into the woods the night of the final battle thinking that he would not return and that Voldemort would be victorious.

It is disgusting, but the wand that had been in her possession is working against her and seems to back up his stories.

Following the war and the overhaul the Ministry went under there are no longer Dementors guarding Azkaban, but I am afraid that Pensive memories and the use of Veritas serum have also been ruled as unlawful by the Wizengamot, who agreed that they had freed too many criminals who used one or the other as false testimony to their innocence.

She will face charges. She will stand trial. I can offer nothing more than my promise that her trial will be swift and just and that George and I will be by her side.

I am keeping this from getting out as long as I can. Do not let her find out from the Prophet. Do not make them come for her. She needs to turn herself in. It is the only way.

I am so sorry my friend.

Kingsley

A/N: I hope you liked it! Please review! What did you think? Was it too hard to follow? We are getting to the meat of the story, and it will all come to a head. Thank you so much again for your support and guidance. You are amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic!

-On a side note – a personal one – My 8 year old son is re-reading all the Harry Potter books for summer break because he is concerned he may have missed details. A child after my own heart he is. – End mommy moment.

All my love, to all of you.

Lily