AN: I hope you all had a Merry Christmas! If you didn't celebrate it, I hope you had a wonderful and restful week!

Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!

Nothing.

After weeks of research, she had found nothing.

Hermione groaned and put her head into her hands. The documents scattered about her kitchen table revealed nothing about Judith Turner's past. As far as she could tell, Judith had materialized from the air in New York City on a stormy spring day. Then, Judith built a skin care empire from thin air. Her success was impressive, though where her ideas and funds originated were unknown. Wherever they were from, that source was determined to remain hidden from the public eye.

Hermione exhaled. So far, Wizarding newspapers were a dead end. Could a muggle method shed light on Judith's origins? It was unknown if she was a pureblood or muggleborn. If she was the latter, it would explain the silence on her past, as well as why Wizarding records were few and far between. A trip to her parents' house to access the internet may be in order.

Before she could plan her next move, Crookshanks let out a small meow. She looked up and took note of the clock on the wall. Her heart began to race in anticipation. Severus would arrive at any moment.

Cursing herself for losing track of time, Hermione hid her research materials under the table and straightened out her black dress. Then, she looked at the package on her sofa. It wasn't anything compared to the gold and emerald bracelet on her wrist, nor could it be compared to designer dragonhide boots. Still, she hoped Severus would appreciate it. If she was lucky, he may even enjoy it.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. With a genuine smile, she wheeled to the door and opened it.

"Hermione," he blushed. "You look, quite…" He began to fidget and gulp.

"Quite?"

"Yes, quite," he dug his foot into the ground.

She cocked her head. It was odd to see Severus tongue-tied, yet that had been occurring quite a bit lately. Was she revolting and he was struggling to find the words to say it? No, he'd never shied away from telling someone they were inadequate. Why would he start now?

Could he have their kisses at the forefront of his mind? No. it was doubtful he dwelt on the kisses as often as she did. Truth be told, she was embarrassed how often she dreamt of his lips against hers, doing things to her which would make most romance writers blush.

"Stunning." He cleared his throat. "You dressed up nicely for my birthday, and your hair looks amazing." He went white. "Not that it does not always look amazing. You are always a stunning woman. Every day you grow more stunning."

"Thank you." She grinned. "I put in some extra effort to appear nice tonight."

"You did not need to do that." His voice grew stronger. "You are beautiful no matter what you wear."

"I wouldn't call myself beautiful," she blushed as she wheeled backwards. "It takes forever to get my hair to cooperate most days."

"It always looks amazing," he entered her quarters and shut the door behind him.

"You don't need to be so kind. I know how it appears. It took a whole bottle of Sleekeazy's for it to look even halfway presentable tonight."

"It always appears presentable."

"Don't toy with me. You've seen it when it's a mess. There's a reason I've only allowed you and a few other people see me when I'm laid up in bed."

"It is a privilege for me to have seen you in such a state. Not that I ever want you to be in pain! I would love for all your pain to be dispelled." He answered. "Still, most people don't allow themselves to be vulnerable around me, so I appreciate you trusting me with your vulnerability."

"You've been vulnerable around me, which I appreciate," her voice softened. "I know how difficult it is for you to allow anyone to get close to you, so I appreciate how open you are with me."

"Being closed off is a useful defense mechanism. The fewer people who know me, the fewer people who can hurt and disappoint me. If I maintain my facade around others, then they will divest themselves of the notion that I will care enough for them to cause me pain," he swallowed. "You are different though. You are much kinder and more caring than anyone I have ever met, a fact I appreciate more with each passing day."

At first, she thought he may kiss her on the forehead. He leaned down, only to stop himself. Then, he took a deep breath and straightened his posture.

"I have a few things for you," she began, trying to moisten her drying throat.

"You did not need to give me anything."

"Nonsense," she gestured for him to follow her. "You deserve a wonderful birthday."

"I only need your company to have a wonderful birthday," he replied.

"Yes, but you deserve more than being with me." She used her hand to gesture to the sofa.

"You're wearing my bracelet," he eyed her wrist.

"Of course I am," her eyes gleamed. "Why would I not wear it?"

"I do not know." He followed her. "Sometimes a man gives a woman a piece of jewelry and within a few days she forgets it exists."

"No," she stopped before her couch. "This is too special for me to ignore. It would be a travesty for me not to wear it on a night like tonight."

"I agree," he sat beside the box. "Is that box for Crookshanks?."

"Of course it is," She locked her wheelchair and smirked. "It is his birthday and nobody else's."

"Indeed, the poor beast must celebrate growing another year older. He must be reminded of the fact that his bones are growing creakier, that his heartburn is becoming more frequent, and at any moment, he may sprout a gray hair."

"Not a gray hair." She put a hand over her heart.

"Indeed, I hear gray hair sneaks up on you. Once they are present, they are impossible to remove. Without the proper spells they invade one's head until they are unrecognizable."

"That sounds absolutely disastrous."

"It is if you have built a reputation on only wearing black, having greasy black hair, and snarling at every dunderheaded student which has come your way. Gray hair would ruin my appearance and persona."

"If you want my point of view," she used her wheelchair to balance herself on her right leg. Then, she took a lock of Severus' hair and twirled it on her finger. "I would love to meet a grey haired man who dressed in black."

He snorted. "Why would you want to meet such a person?"

"Well, I find older men captivating," she raised herself higher until she could purr into his ear. "They are so intelligent, so fascinating, so enticing. A good older man can bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses."

She felt the shudder go up his body. There was a glisten in his eyes she had only seen before they kissed.

"I've always wanted an older man in my life. I want an older man to sweep me off my feet and make me feel like a woman," she continued in her low voice. "It is only unfortunate that one does not want me."

"It is unfortunate that the only old man in your life is a git who is too broken to love."

"Not broken," she whispered as she continued to play with his hair, ignoring the increasing spasms in her left leg. "Just closed off, selective in who he wants in his life."

"Hermione," he rasped.

"Yes?" She whispered.

"I," he shifted until he was closer to her. "I find a younger woman in a wheelchair to be intoxicating, someone who makes me feel alive when nothing else does."

"You do?"

"Yes, she can distract me from the fact I'm getting another year older. She makes me excited to spend another year with her."

"Do you have such a younger woman in mind?"

"Oh Merlin yes," he rasped. "She's so distracting."

"How?" She hummed.

"She," he fidgeted. "She makes me forget that I have a present to open."

"Oh she does." She twirled another tendril of his hair around her finger.

He squeaked his assent.

"Do you want to open your present?" She winced from the increasing pain in her left leg. Although she wasn't putting weight onto it, it was protesting it's position.

"I think I best do so before you do something you regret," his voice was much firmer, almost as if he was trying to explain a complex potion to a colleague.

"Oh," she returned to her wheelchair, relieving the pain in her leg. "I suppose you should."

"I mean," he smirked. "It is not every day a young, beautiful young woman gives an older man a present. Given the rarity of the moment, I best enjoy it."

"Yes," she relaxed. "You best do that."

Unlike other people who tore apart their presents, Severus searched for the seams of tape. Upon finding them, he removed the tape with his fingers, not leaving a rip on the paper. One could always reuse the paper when he was finished unwrapping his present. She wondered if he picked up on this habit because he felt it proper to be tidy, or because growing up in poverty, wrapping paper needed to be reused.

Once the wrapping was removed, he examined the box. With another swift motion, he removed the tape holding the top flap onto the rest of the box. Then, he removed the pewter cauldron from its container.

"I remember you saying once that you were running low on pewter cauldrons," her eyes fell onto the bracelet. Even if he was wearing the watch he'd given her for Christmas and the pewter cauldron cost a good bit of her discretionary spending, it didn't compare to the bracelet, nor could it compare to the fine gifts a certain other witch could buy him.

"Thank you. It's one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever received."

She glanced at him.

"I mean it," he examined it, a smile on his face. "You gave me something I needed instead of a book I've already read, a gift I'll forget exists in two weeks, or something you wanted for yourself. It is a rare gift that puts me in mind such as this."

"You haven't had many good birthdays, have you?"

His eyes told her all she needed to know.

"I apologize."

"Why?" He shrugged. "It wasn't your fault I had terrible birthdays."

"You deserved better."

"Honestly, I'm used to January 9 meaning nothing. I was lucky if my parents so much as gave me a piece of cake," he shook his head. "As an adolescent, my birthday was rarely acknowledged. As an adult, I began wishing it had not been due to the off-note singing and less than desirable gifts."

"Perhaps this year your luck will change."

"It already has."

"Truly?"

He nodded. "Truly."

"Well, don't thank me just yet," She reached under her body and pulled out an envelope. "There is a second part of your surprise. In some level you will appreciate it, but on some level may entail more work."

"Dear Merlin please tell me you are not assigning your students muggle chemistry assignments and asking me to grade them," he groaned.

"Now that would be cruel of me, wouldn't it?" She handed him the envelope.

"I would like to think you were not capable of such sadism."

"While I am capable of cruelty, I love you enough not to put you through such torture." Her body went cold as the full weight of what she'd said sunk in. Just because she'd told him she'd loved him in her fantasies did not mean that he would welcome any type of affection form her. If she wasn't careful, this may be his worst birthday yet.

"I am lucky to be in your good graces then," he continued as if he was speaking about the effects of a full moon, not analyzing the l-word.

"Indeed," her heart sank as he examined the letter. Should she be happy he'd said nothing? Even if he'd rejected her, they would at least have a conversation about her sentiments. Had he not heard her slip? If not, did that imply he did not listen to her? No, he was the one person who always listened to her. Was he trying to play off the moment by pretending it had not happened? Was his lack of acknowledgement his gentle rejection, or a symptom of his insecurity?

"While I'm pleased you have gone further into the process, a March 4 demonstration does not give us much time," Severus began.

"No, it does not," she replied, forcing herself to return to the moment.

"Still, there is enough time to practice and perfect the demonstration, as well as your flying skills," he set the parchment onto the coffee table. "If you would like, we can resume our practice as soon as dinner ends."

"You want to work on your birthday?"

"Why not? I taught classes today, meaning I have already worked on my birthday."

"Yes, but surely there are more interesting and worthwhile things to do than practicing a demonstration."

"I have a vested interest in preventing an overzealous former member of Dumbledore's Army from becoming my colleague. More importantly though," his eyes softened. "I have a vested interest making you happy. That to me is far more important than anything else."

"Thank you," her body warmed.

"You may thank me when you get your job," he stood. "Now, you mentioned I could take you wherever I wanted to go."

"Indeed I did."

"Great," he replied. "We can go to The Leaky Cauldron, strategize the layout of the demonstration, and if we are up to it, begin practice."

"Are you sure we'll have time for all that?"

"Practice may have to wait," he stood. "But if we develop a plan, we will have had a productive evening."

"You should be having a celebratory evening, not a productive one." She unlocked her wheelchair.

"Believe me, anything I do with you involves an element of celebration. My life would be intolerable without you. Even if we are working," he brushed his hand against her cheek before brushing his lips against hers, "I am happier with you than I am without you."

"I feel the same way," her eyes glistened.

Perhaps he didn't hear her slip of the tongue, or didn't want to acknowledge it. Still, he was by her side. She believed him when he said being with her was celebration, and that he didn't want to be with anyone else.

It was a much safer form of love than she'd ever experienced.