Sometime later, the rhythmic pulse of red and blue lights roused Hermione from the darkness. Abruptly, she became aware that she was lying supine, head restrained by a cervical collar and wrists secured to a backboard. The stiff restraints set off an immediate wave of utter panic, and she thrashed about as hard as she could to free herself.

A blunt-faced woman entered her field of vision, blocking the flashing lights. "Steady on, it's alright. You've been in a collision, but you're in the hands of the ambulance service now. Just calm down—"

"My parents," Hermione gasped, her head pounding horribly and feeling as though she was about to be violently sick. "Where are they? And Severus?"

"Aye, your family will be back on their pins soon enough. Don't you worry," the paramedic soothed, stroking her arm ineffectually. "Stop fighting the restraints, love. I know they're uncomfortable, but we must keep you still until we can get you checked out at hospital."

Hermione bucked again on the backboard, the present terror melding oddly with memories from her past. No longer seeing the kindly paramedic hovering over her but rather the perverted smirk of Fenrir Greyback, fear bit into her with sharp teeth; it was Bellatrix holding her down, not Velco straps.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, breath cycling wildly as she reached for her magic to free herself.

Severus was suddenly filling her vision, expression frantic. He was all over blood, the glass sparkling in his hair lighting up with little red and blue glints. "Let her up," he demanded roughly. "Clearly, she's not paralysed, and there will be hell to pay if she has a panic attack."

There was a scuffle above her, and then Hermione heard the welcome rasp of Velcro being torn apart. As soon as her wrists were free, she bolted upright and was safe in the warmth of Severus' embrace.

"Shhh," he crooned, "hush now, sweetheart, it's alright."

"Mummy and Daddy, where are they?!"

"Breathe in," Severus ordered, pulling back only enough to make eye contact. "Your parents are safe in the ambulance right there. Let's calm down…"

With a struggle, Hermione held her breath, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. The sense of doom hanging above her began to recede slowly as she regulated her breathing. Severus held her gaze throughout. "There we are. Deep, slow breaths now, Hermione. Match mine. In, and out…"

"Are you okay?" she panted at last.

"Yes." At her expression of disbelief, he added, "Cuts, and I'm a bit banged up. That's all. Nothing that can't be fixed in a trice."

Hermione relaxed slightly, the sharp edges of her fear receding slightly. "And Mum? Dad?"

"Your mother has a broken arm but is otherwise uninjured. I'm going to let the paramedics continue to check you out now—"

She had calmed down enough to catch his evasion. "Severus, what about my father?"

He paused for an endless moment before finally answering. "He was pinned under the car until the fire brigade arrived. They pulled him free, but it appears that he has broken ribs and a significant chest injury. Given the seriousness of his injury, there could be other issues that we can't see yet."

"Oh, God-"

"He's stable, Hermione. I don't think it's as dire as all that." Severus gripped her hand reassuringly.

A second ambulance pulled onto the scene, the siren's wail cutting off as it did.

"And that chariot is for you, duck," the lady paramedic announced. "Let's get you both out of the cold and the dark, shall we?"

The woman—her name proved to be Arla, and Hermione quite liked her once she was calm—fussed over her and Severus for the next ten minutes until she was satisfied that they were both stable enough to be left alone for a moment. "Right… I'm going to pop over to the rig next to us and check on how things are going with your parents. Does that sound alright, Hermione?"

"Yes, thank you, Arla."

"Say nothing of it. Be back in a jiffy!"

Severus was sitting next to her on the stretcher, and once Arla left, he reached over and cupped Hermione's cheek tenderly with one graceful, long-fingered hand. She sighed, letting her body sway into his, seeking comfort and something more. His gaze suddenly dropped to her lips, and for a heart-stopping instant, Hermione was sure he would kiss her.

The air crackled between them, the outside world fading away. Her love for him seemed to swell outward from her heart, an odd sort of joy filling her. Finally… I have wanted him for so long… The warmth of his body settled over her like a blanket. She exhaled; the possibilities of a different future were suddenly clear between them.

I love him so very much…

"Severus?" she asked, voice breaking.

Then Severus blinked, pulling back abruptly.

A neutral mask blanked his expression, and Hermione was aware once more of the crackle of police radios and baltic air flooding in through the open door of the ambulance.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "As soon as I can find some privacy, I'll send my Patronus to Emma MacIntosh and Kingsley to let them know what happened. We'll sort this out, but for now, I think Muggle doctors should treat your father."

"I agree," she said after a long pause, wondering if she had imagined that moment of intense longing. Am I losing the plot? That was a moment between us, wasn't it?

Arla's voice rang out cheerfully, and they both jumped at the interruption. "Look who I've found!"

Jean stuck her head into the ambulance's interior but did not step up into it. Her arm was immobilised and in a sling. She was a tad ruffled and pale-faced but otherwise composed.

"Hello, Mummy," Hermione said, offering her an attempt at a weak smile.

"Hello, darling. How are you doing?"

"If the pounding of my head is any indication, I have a concussion. Nothing wrong other than that, however."

"Good. Severus?"

"Minor injuries only. Are they ready to transport George yet?"

Jean nodded once sharply. "Yes. I will ride with him, and it sounds like you both will follow in a few minutes. They are taking us to James Cook University Hospital in Middlesbrough."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you, too, Hermione," Jean responded, disappearing into the darkness.

It took another two and a half hours before Hermione was deemed not in danger of dying. She was x-rayed, given a drip with saline and a mild analgesic, received a jab for tetanus, and finally wheeled into the small family waiting room where her mother sat, stone-faced.

Severus had stoutly refused to leave her side and still looked like a right mess because of it. Hermione had surreptitiously half-healed his largest scalp lacerations so that he wouldn't require stitches, but he, too, was alarmingly silent.

"What's the latest news?" she asked, dread cramping her stomach.

"The consulting surgeon should be here any moment with an update."

The door opened again as if her statement was a summoning charm, and a handsome Indian man wearing a turban and a white lab coat entered.

"Good evening. My name is Doctor Singh, and I'll be the consultant doctor leading the team caring for Mr Granger. I see more of your family has joined you, Mrs Granger?"

"Yes, this is my daughter, Hermione, and her friend, Severus. How is my husband?"

"Still stable," the doctor reported. "We've just finished with imaging, and as expected, he has broken ribs and a punctured lung. There is also some bleeding around the pancreas that we will need to resolve surgically. Do we have your consent to do so?"

Her mother nodded. "Of course."

"And is he on any medications that we should be aware of, or anything in his medical history that is of note?"

"He has high blood pressure and suffered from a TIA after a diving accident two and a half years ago in Australia. Other than that, no."

The man paused, appearing suddenly uncertain. "I ask, Mrs Granger, not just as a matter of course, but because some irregularities were found in his MRI."

"What do you mean?"

"The report I received in casualty is that Mr Granger was driving tonight. Was that true?"

"Yes. We had a flat tyre after almost striking a deer on the motorway. George was driving."

"I find that… impressive." Seeing her mother's confused look, the doctor continued. "Due to the mechanism of injury, we performed a full-body scan on your husband. There were some spots on his brain scan that we originally thought were bleeding, but upon closer examination, they appear to be evidence of something else entirely."

"And what would that be?"

"Pardon my bluntness, and let me preface this by saying that I am not a neuro specialist, but it appears that your husband has quite advanced dementia. We were all shocked to hear that he was driving. When I've seen similar presentations, none of those patients had much awareness of their surroundings, never mind been capable of driving."

Jean's lips thinned. "Could you be misreading the scans, Dr Singh?"

"Absolutely, and I certainly hope that I am. I've called for the consulting neurosurgeon to look at his scans just in case, and we should know more in the next several hours. In the meantime, we need to stop the bleeding in his abdomen." Singh stood. "Again, I do apologise for my bluntness, but I want you to have a complete picture of what we are looking at so that nothing surprises you. Now, I need to scrub up, but if you have any other questions, ask for Matron Kelly. She'll also be bringing you updates as we have them."

Hermione sat in stunned silence for several minutes after the doctor left, unable to process the cruel turn of events the evening had taken. She glanced again at her mother and was struck by how wrong her cold expression appeared.

"Mum."

Jean Granger looked up from her folded hands. "Yes."

"What's the matter? I mean, beyond the obvious."

Jean's attention shifted to Severus, and it suddenly became hostile. "It's the most curious thing. I now remember the two of you in Melbourne trying to restore our memories. But I remember something else, as well."

Next to her, Severus suddenly went very, very tense.

"What's that?"

"I can recall him," Jean stated, pointing a finger at Severus. "Standing over us. There was blood everywhere, and a knife held to us… Magic was in the air, and it hurt. Everything hurt."

The air fled from Hermione's lungs with a whoosh, and she turned to face Snape. "What is she talking about?"

He stayed silent, not meeting her eyes or Jean's.

Fear coursed through her blood as the possibilities began to arrange themselves in her thoughts, and Hermione's heart began to race correspondingly.

"Severus Snape, what does my mother remember that I don't? Did you do something to them?"

There was no reaction from the dark-haired man.

Hermione leaned forward in the chair, betrayal and fear crystallising into rage as the night's event became too much. "I made it very clear when we failed to restore my parent's memories that I was not willing to jeopardise their health—specifically my father's—any further. My mother is now reporting that she remembers you casting an entirely different type of spell over them, and we've just found out that my father possibly has a massive amount of brain damage. So I ask again, what did you do?"

Without realising it, Hermione had her wand out and pointed it at Snape, magic sparking from the tip.

"Put that away," Snape finally hissed, black eyes flashing. "We are in a hospital full of Muggles, and if you blow up, you're likely to take half the lifesaving equipment and patients out with you!"

Hermione rose slowly from her chair, feeling colder than an executioner. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Would you listen to anything else, Granger?"

"Get out," Hermione enunciated carefully. "Before I take what you did to my parents forcibly from your mind. Get out now."

Snape didn't move for the better part of thirty seconds. Then, with a rough jerk of the door, he turned and stormed from the room.

Three days later, George Granger had been moved to a private room at the James Cook University Hospital. Whilst the surgery to stop the bleeding in his abdomen had been successful, her father had still not regained consciousness.

Hermione hadn't spoken to Snape again. Couldn't, as a matter of fact, lest the red rage of her temper get the better of her. But equally, she was at a complete loss as to what to do next. Snape was her best friend, and despite everything, she missed him. Was worried about him. There had to be a reason for what he'd done, or at the very least, an explanation. He knew how I felt about the risks.. why would he go back and try to heal them on his own?

In an effort to unravel what had been done, Hermione had taken a sample of her father's blood. She performed several tests on it, finding clear indications that he had been receiving magical potions of some sort regularly. Her mind immediately went to the recollection of Snape and George standing out in the back garden, smoking cigars. Could that have been the source of the magically enhanced medication in his bloodstream? Had Dad known about it? And What role had he played in all this?

Worriedly, Hermione glanced down at her mobile, noting that it had been almost four hours since her mother had gone for a walk. She'd taken her wool coat with her, but the weather was still abysmal, and wool would do nothing against the wet.

She texted her mother again, but there was no response. Rising, she peered out the window, wondering if she'd see the bright red flash of her mother's coat amongst the gloom.

The sidewalk was deserted.

Feeling the hot prick of tears, Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. Breaking down wouldn't accomplish anything, and it wasn't as if her mother was the type to be deliberately unaware of what her absence would do to Hermione's nerves.

She was scrolling through her mobile, trying to figure out who she could call for help—Neville, who had a decent amount of emotional intelligence in situations like this, or Harry, who could much better navigate the Muggle world—when the door banged open, and her mother appeared.

"Just where have you been?" Hermione exclaimed, hands on hips.

Her mother gave her a look, not appreciating the tone. "A walk, as I said. And then I drove to Severus'."

"You did what?"

Jean rolled her eyes. "Obviously, we need the entire story of what happened, and as neither of us can remember everything and your father can't tell us his part, Severus is the only one with some answers."

Hermione went dry-mouthed. "What did he say?"

"Many things, and he gave me these." From under her coat, Jean withdrew a well-wrapped book and several phials. "Your father knew that he had dementia when we returned and had asked Severus to keep it a secret. George had promised to finally come clean about matters following the holiday. These are his next rounds of medicine, along with directions. And this," she continued, "is the book of spells that Snape used to restore our memories." She handed it to Hermione with some distaste.

A bookmark lay two-thirds of the way in, and Hermione flipped it open to that page. She swiftly started to skim the spell but stopped after only a few sections. "Christ, that is… very, very grey magic. Whatever you do, don't ever let Harry see this. As an Auror, there is no way that he will look past it. If anyone discovers what Severus did, he'll go to Azkaban for ages."

"Even if he had our consent?"

Blinking, she stared at her mother in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"He asked us before… he came to our house and laid it all out. Told us that we had a daughter, and you had hidden us because of the fighting. That you had tried to heal us and failed, and then how poorly you were doing because of it. He sounded like an utter berk at the start, but it matched so much of what your father and I were experiencing at the time that we believed him."

"Mum, Severus is an expert in planting suggestions and false memories-"

Jean's voice chilled. "Do you believe that he would do that? To us? Or to you?"

Shame washed over her, and Hermione felt very small indeed. "No."

"He said…" Her mum swallowed thickly, emotional for the first time, "he said he wanted to do it for your sake because he loved you. He was terrified that you were on the brink of killing yourself. But Severus also said he wouldn't cast the spell on us without our consent. He wouldn't distort his love for you in that fashion, so he gave us the choice of what to do. He received our permission and blessing. And I believe him."

Her mother gripped her shaking hands with a gentle force. "Darling, he doesn't just love you as a friend. He is also so in love with you." She smiled crookedly. "He's said so to me… twice."

Sinking back down onto her chair as the words hit her with a physical impact, Hermione covered her face with her hands. "Oh, god. What have I done? The things that I accused him of... he'll never forgive me."

Hermione was struck, as ever, by how depressing Spinner's End was as she drove through the empty streets. Gentrification had yet to come to this part of the Mancunian sprawl, and she was uncertain it would ever. What must it have been like to grow up amidst this? Little wonder Severus craved respect and power from the start…

Parking in front of the last dingy terrace house, she exited the car and marched up the steps, apprehension dogging her every move. A tingle washed over her as she breached his wards, and Hermione was relieved that he hadn't kicked her out of his protections.

She dithered on the doorstep. To knock or not? Mustering the last of her Gryffindor courage, Hermione finally opened the door and barged in.

Severus sat in his wingback chair, a picture of complete desolation, seeming to have aged a decade in just three days. He glanced up at her sudden arrival but remained silent and motionless.

The sorry sight of him—so gutted, so clearly expecting a final rejection—hit her like a physical blow. Oh, what have I done? How will he ever forgive me? she asked herself for the thousandth time and was forced to look away lest she start bawling right then and there.

The front room was chillier than an icebox. "This will not do," she announced in a shadow of her normal bossy tones, thrusting her wand toward the fireplace. Blue flames appeared with a crackle, and a tendril of warmth began to creep into the space.

Striding to the kitchen, she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the hob. With a quick flip, she lit the gas burner. Walking back into the main room, Hermione clicked the overhead lamp. They both winced at the sudden influx of brightness.

In the harsh light, she saw that he had been crying.

Hermione froze, heart lurching painfully. It was a recollection of previous comfort—of Severus granting her much-needed succour the night her parents had returned and then again on countless other occasions—that finally spurred her into action.

"Budge over," she ordered, and when Severus still didn't react, she sat down on his lap, curling into his tense shoulder.

"You are my best friend, Severus, and I love you so much for all that you've brought to my life," she whispered, hiding her face in the soft fabric of his sweater, afraid to look up at him. "And I need to apologise because I've done a piss-poor job of showing it lately."

"Hermione…" he breathed at last, and she waited for him to say more, to give her a clue of how to proceed.

When he still hadn't spoken after a minute, she pressed on. "I must beg your forgiveness for what I said… what I implied about your actions three days ago. Can you ever forgive me?"

Risking a glance up to Severus' immobile face, she met his lovely, dark eyes for the first time since walking in the door. This close, Hermione saw they were a dark, rich brown, not the black as so often appeared from a distance.

"Please," she begged, "say something. Say anything. I love you, and not just as a friend. Just tell me what I need to say or do so that you will forgive me."

Severus dipped his head and kissed her.

It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss, full of lusty longings and bodily awareness. Nor was it particularly skilful or a sensual touch of mouths. Indeed, Severus' lips were slightly chapped and quite cold. To her extreme embarrassment, Hermione abruptly recalled that she hadn't brushed her teeth in at least two days.

But none of that mattered after the first heartbeat. It was a tender kiss, full of gentle reverence between them and making a promise that sent her heart racing with the sentiment it conveyed.

"Let me be in your life," Severus answered huskily. "Forgive me of my many trespasses. Love me. That's all I've ever wanted."

Hermione smiled, cupping his cheek in her hand. "Oh, I will. I do-"

"I love you so very much." He covered her hand with his own, pressing them into the unyielding plain of his face, needing her touch as much as she needed his. "I have done so for… a very long time. There is very little I wouldn't do for your sake, Hermione."

His hand tightened on hers as he continued. "But I give you my sworn word that your parents consented to the magic I performed on them, and I would not have continued had I not received their full blessings to proceed. If you believe only one thing I say, believe that."

"I do believe you, Severus, and what I said… it was born out of fear and my own guilt. None of this would have happened if I hadn't taken matters into my own hands that summer. If I had asked more people for help in protecting my parents or simply spoken with them before making the choice for all of us-"

Severus shook his head. "You made the best choice out of bad ones. Perhaps your parents would have listened to you had you explained that we were essential in a civil ear and let you obliviate them; the result would have likely been the same for your father. Perhaps they would not have listened to you, and all of you would have been captured and killed because they had not fled your house when the Death Eaters came knocking in August. Where would we all be now if that had happened?"

He sighed. "The only thing we should have done sooner is speak to each other about our feelings. Seeing George now... it's a reminder of how fleeting life can be. I knew you cared for me, but the rest- well, I was never sure you wanted more than friendship from me. My doubts made the last several years rather unpleasant in that regard."

She muffled a brief laugh at his dry words. "If I had closely observed your actions as a whole, I might have realized how you felt sooner, mustered some courage to act, and spared us both from unnecessary waiting."

Severus shook his head slightly, a faint curl touching his lips. "No. I did my damnedest to hide my feelings for you."

"Why?"

"Why...? Beyond the obvious—my actions towards you, our rather extensive history, never mine my past…"

"Yes," she persisted. "Beyond the obvious."

Sorrow deepened the colour of Severus' gaze for a moment, an old pain resurfacing from the depths. "I never dared to show my feelings for you because I never wanted you to turn away from me like Lily did. I knew… I always knew how uneven our relationship was. She was fond of me, certainly, but love? No, never that. If I had managed to be thankful for the gift of her friendship, not pushed and prodded and demanded so much more from her, we might not have parted on such poor terms. And then there was you…"

Severus chuckled. "You told me exactly what you thought of me when we fought that first time. As well as the second, and the third time... It wasn't flattering or pleasant to hear. But it was the truth—"

"I said those words out of anger and spite," Hermione interrupted. "They were a partial truth at best. You must know that."

"They were the truth," he continued, unperturbed. "And yet you put aside your feelings and treated me with respect and kindness as we started to work together. When my feelings changed… when we had somehow built a solid friendship out of shaky foundations, I was determined to learn from past mistakes. I would not press you for something that you could not give. I would be grateful for the gift I had been given. I would be your friend and no more."

He kissed her again. "But I love you so very much, and have done for years," he repeated.

She could feel his hunger this time and the desire he was holding back. With a low moan, Hermione deepened the kiss and pressed her body into his, drawing a shudder of need from him.

"I love you, too."

"I will admit to being shocked that neither of your parents tried to meddle," Severus said at last, one clever, long-fingered hand caressing the outside of her hip with an exploratory interest as they cuddled closer.

Hermione blushed. "I told my Mum off when she brought it up. You were so clear about your boundaries around relationships. More than that, you wanted and needed a friend and wanted to be part of our dysfunctional, crazy family. I couldn't take that from you on the off chance you could feel more than friendship for me."

"Ahh," Severus said, letting his hand wander further to her great pleasure.

"Annnnnd," she gasped, squirming a little closer, "do recall that I watched you shoot any number of women down, most of whom were far prettier and accomplished than I."

"Excellent point, except that none of them were, in fact, prettier or more accomplished than you," Severus opened his mouth to say more, but the piercing scream of the kettle began to ramp up, and they both looked to the kitchen with no little annoyance.

Hermione's expression turned rueful. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation in another place and time. I don't want to leave Mum alone at the hospital for that much longer, besides."

"And there is also the matter of your father's health for us to discuss," he stated soberly, and Hermione's mood dipped.

His touch became soothing. "We will do our best, Hermione. This time, it will be a conversation amongst all of us, and with any luck, your father will shortly be in a condition to protest our decisions."

"Do you think…?" she started to ask, and then stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

"I don't know how much hope there is of recovery. Nevertheless, we will try." With a gentle nudge, Severus pushed her to her feet. In return, she pulled him from his chair. "Have either you or your mother eaten anything of note today?" Severus inquired, sounding almost like himself.

"No."

"As I thought... well, the water is already conveniently hot, shall we make a thermos of tea and then stop by the chippy on the high street? I distinctly remember Jean liking their mushy peas, and a diet of fish and chips should be substantial enough to keep the both of you from losing your officious ways due to starvation."

"I like to think of it as flare rather than officiousness, thank you very much."

"As you wish." Ignoring the now irate sound of the kettle, Severus pulled her in for another hug, holding her tightly to his tall frame for a moment. "Together, my love?'

"Together." Hermione placed a soft buss on his cheek, and they walked into the kitchen to make the tea.

Hours later, a man swam up from a fog of unconsciousness. His eyes opened bit by bit to find himself in a hospital bed, machines humming around him. The dark room around him slowly took shape; he became aware of a soft hand holding his. It was the only part of him that didn't hurt. His gaze followed the delicate fingers that clasped his to a slim arm and then up to a sleeping face partially covered by thick silver curls. A woman sat in a chair beside the bed, her body sliding closer to him as she slept. Fierce and strong love subsumed his thoughts as he stared at her familiar face, the emotion pushing away any nebulous questions and much of the pain.

Blinking several times as his vision blurred with tears, he saw a couple sitting together behind his woman. A dark-haired man was in a second chair, head resting against the wall as he slept fitfully, holding a younger woman in his lap. The woman shared the same curls as his beloved. Her soft exhalations and relaxed pose showed her to be sleeping as well. Echoing the pose, the couple held hands, and the man in the bed felt another rush of tears as he saw that his family was safe and whole.

We are finally together, he thought, love, gratitude, and a hint of sorrow colouring the notion. It's going to be alright. The rest is just details…

His eyes closed, and he slipped peacefully back into unconsciousness.

FIN

A/N

I posted the penultimate chapter of this story on 13 December 2020. I wasn't thrilled with this last chapter, so I decided to let it stew in my mind and come back to edit it once the holiday had passed.

And then life got very life-y; like many, Covid-19 had thrown my life into utter chaos, and the resulting stress and cascading problems drained my creative spark to nothing. Years passed, not just the months I had planned.

My life has taken many unexpected turns; while I'm not where I thought I would be, I am where I should be. That creative joy has finally returned some five years later. For that and so much else, I'm incredibly grateful. Likewise, I'm thrilled that this little corner of the fandom is still around producing beautiful stories.

For the last couple of months, I've been finishing up the last edits on this story *and* a new one that will hopefully be published in the upcoming weeks. Thank you all for continuing to read, write, and dream. As always, take care of yourselves, and happy reading!