Nothing Can Stop Us, So Nobody Try

A/N – I have to admit, I’m really pretty sad to have to post this chapter. As I mentioned in the previous chapter’s A/N, this fic will end with Chapter Eleven (bwuahahaha; bankruptcy. Or something). I’m going to miss it a lot, but I hope you enjoy the end of the ride, both in this penultimate chapter and in the final one. Thank you again for all your support, well wishes, and reviews.

~~ ** Lady Tuesday ** ~~

Chapter Ten – Nothing Can Stop Us, So Nobody Try

Despite the fact that he’d only slept for maybe a collective three hours the entire night, Severus’s eyes snapped open the instant that full dawn stole through the curtains of Hermione’s bedroom. He felt unspeakably strange. Lying in bed naked with a woman he loved, a woman who'd admitted she loved him back … it was like an excerpt from someone else’s life. Women didn’t love Severus Snape, not romantically, at least. And certainly not a woman who’d hated him as a child. The idea was laughable. Given to an odd fit of humor, Severus did laugh quietly. It just didn’t seem possible. None of it.

And yet, here he was. Here she was. Severus shifted as slowly and gently as possible, trying to move so that he could look at her face. Hermione’s pale skin was warm and just the slightest bit rosy, probably from proximity and body heat. Her lips curled up in a tiny smile as she slept, light puffs of air hitting his face as she exhaled. His heart squeezed. Just looking at her made him feel something he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever felt before: happiness. Complete and total happiness. Happy. Such a soft word for such a harsh man. The word didn’t seem to fit Severus Snape. He normally loathed the word; it was too simplistic to describe anyone who wasn’t a child or an absolute moron. And yet ….

Regardless of his reluctance to leave the circle of her arms, the soft hills of her bare breasts, Severus slid from bed and stretched in the cold morning air. Well acquainted with the chill, he didn’t shiver, but simply hurried to don his robes. Much as he’d like to do so, he couldn’t linger here all day. He’d need to get back to Hogwarts before breakfast if he could manage; the tongue-flappers would have a field day if he was missed, as he was certain that Minerva wouldn’t resist the urge to share such a tasty little tidbit of gossip. Severus’s sigh was loud in the small, still room. Looking back to where Hermione still lie sleeping, he felt a strong tug of temptation urging him to just ignore the possible scandal, take off his robes, and climb right back into bed with her. But he couldn’t. There was far too much to do today. Never inclined to be the sort of person who sat on a mental or emotional epiphany, Severus fully believed that now was time to act. But first, he would soak up the atmosphere for just one more moment.

Unable to help himself, Severus silently moved back to the bed. Severus found himself gripped with such a strange stir of emotions as he looked down at Hermione’s sleeping form. His head spun with the muddle of it: confusion, happiness, desire, panic … they all seemed to swirl within him. His Joy now extended all the way back to childhood. A childhood, in fact, that he not only knew of, but had participated in profoundly. The fact that his Joy had been a champion of the war made him strangely proud, but the fact that she was also the best friend of an entire lineage’s worth of anger and bad blood in his heart panicked him more than he had allowed himself to contemplate the previous night. She wasn’t Joy anymore. Well, to be fair, she wasn’t just Joy anymore. She was Hermione Jean Granger, formerly Weasley. Was all of the difficulty and tumult and emotional upheaval that was sure to come from a relationship between them really worth what he would get in return?

Fear flooded his throat, but Severus didn’t have to think about the answer to that question. Instead, he knew exactly what to do. Spurred into action, Severus hurried around the room to collect his belongings. There was much to be done. He considered leaving a note to explain things to Hermione, but discarded the idea. With any luck, it would all become clear soon enough.

As he made to step out the doorway, he heard a small noise, like the indignant growl of a cat. Glancing around the floor for her old half-Kneazle – was he young enough to still be alive? – Severus saw nothing at first, until his eyes hit the small orange blossom laying on the floor. The Roaring Tiger Lily that he’d procured from Longbottom must have fallen out of her hair in the process of the night; it had let out a growl when he'd trod on one of the petals. Severus bent and rescued the blossom from the floor, saying a quick charm in his head to restore the petals to their original luster. Swiftly moving to the bed, Severus dropped the bloom on the pillow next to Hermione’s open palm just before he strode out of the bedroom, silently descending the stairs before purposefully Disapparating away into the cool Scottish morning.

A brusque hammering on the front door of number 37, Godric’s Hollow was met by a few loud shrieks of young voices from somewhere in the house, the clatter of someone stumbling through the front room towards the door, and the raucous barking of an obviously agitated dog. After a few moments where no one answered, Severus raised his fist to knock again, but before he could, the door swung open to reveal a much disheveled Harry Potter, clad in flannel lounge pants and a mismatched t-shirt, a small child with black hair and wide green eyes dangling from his shoulders. Potter adjusted his glasses, sitting crookedly on his face, and blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. When the sight in front of him registered completely, his mouth dropped open in surprise. Just as he was about to speak, the vocal dog shot around his legs and nearly knocked Potter off balance as he clutched at the beast’s collar in an effort to restrain him.

“No, Padfoot, heel!” Potter practically shouted. “Bad dog, Padfoot! Bad!”

Severus raised an eyebrow wordlessly and glanced from the dog’s big, dark head back to Potter’s bright green eyes. He had the nerve to smirk and shrug.

“It seemed an appropriate name,” he replied to the unspoken question. Turning from Severus for a moment, Harry bent to set the child still clinging to his shoulders on wobbly legs. Ruffling the mop of dark waves, Harry directed his son, “Al, why don’t you take Padfoot into the kitchen and help Mummy with breakfast while I talk to my friend, huh?”

Reining in the instinct to scoff at the word ‘friend,’ Severus merely stared down his nose at the apparently fearless child who made no show of intimidation at his usually peerless, innate authority. Narrowing his eyes, he attempted to scare the child into compliance, but the little monster seemed undeterred.

Instead, the child thrust a small, chubby finger towards Severus and said, “That’s the big-nose man in your picture book.”

“Al!” Potter hissed, risking a glance at Snape. “That’s not nice, calling people names.”

“But it is him!” squeaked the little boy. “It’s the big-nose teacher man in the hospital bed that they gave a medal to in the newspaper. I recognize his big nose from the picture.” The miniature demon directed a skeptical look at Severus. “Daddy says you’re a hero, Mister Teacher, but I think you’re just a scary man with a big nose.”

“I think you may be smarter than your daddy,” Severus said, his face stony.

The little boy stuck out his tongue. “Meany!”

“Albus Severus Potter, that is enough!” Harry said sternly. “Apologize to Professor Snape and then go into the kitchen for breakfast or there won’t be any flying lessons for a month!”

Finally abashed, the child issued a quick apology before dashing off into the sitting room, dragging the much larger dog. When Harry finally looked back at Severus, he was met with a strange expression.

“Is something wrong, Professor?”Harry asked, a tad uncertain.

“The child’s name,” he said unsteadily. “Why did you do that?”

Harry’s cheeks painted with a light blush. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know. Nothing in my life goes without publication in every major newspaper,” Harry said with a rueful grimace, “so I assumed you knew.”

“I didn’t.”

“I would have asked permission, but you’d said you wanted to be left alone. Plus, I didn’t think you’d agree. So I did it anyway.” When Severus narrowed his eyes, Harry spread his hands in a yielding gesture. “It was supposed to be an honor. For Al. To be named after two very powerful, very brave Headmasters of Hogwarts …. Plus, I felt you deserved to be remembered.”

“Dubious Order of Merlin awards aside, you don’t believe that my continuing legacy of terror is enough?”

“You deserved to be remembered in a positive way. Remembered as the brave, talented, selfless,” Severus scoffed, and Harry’s face hardened as he glared back, “if not thoroughly unpleasant man that you are. Besides, there were a good, solid eight months where no one thought you would live. True, it was long before Al was born, but—” Harry shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Severus nodded, unsettled but unwilling to show it. Potter’s child bearing his name, even buried in the middle, seemed a strange farce on some level; a descendant of his most hated enemy bearing his name as a tribute was almost obscene. But, grotesquely, Severus was touched, though he’d agree to be dressed in a tutu to perform Swan Lake before admitting it. Attempting to regain some control over the situation, Severus cleared his throat and made to speak, but Potter intercepted him.

“Not that it’s not a joy to see you, as always,” Harry said with a smirk, “but if I may be so rude: what the hell are you doing at my house at seven o’clock in the morning on a Sunday? Or, for that matter, at all?”

Severus’ jaw clenched. “Did you know it was me?”

Harry stared back at the tall, scowling man on his doorstep without changing expressions. “It’s early, Severus. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

“That she was writing to,” he snapped. “Did you know it was me that she was writing to? When we talked on Valentine’s Day—”

Harry sighed heavily and moved back away from the doorway. “I think you’d better come inside.”

Severus grappled with his discomfort and better judgment for a moment. He’d wanted this to be a quick visit, one where he would simply verify that Potter hadn’t intervened or meddled somehow, and then he’d be on his way. But something in him tickled with curiosity as well as apprehension. As such, Severus restrained a sigh and allowed Potter to usher him into the small but obviously well-loved home. He stood uncomfortably on the doormat for a moment while Harry closed the door and reset several wards – the usual protection spells, plus several very strong ones for privacy that Potter explained with a shrug and a wry, “the burden of being famous, I guess” – then waved a hand to lead him out of the front hallway and into the house. They traversed a small corridor that held doors opening into a cluttered but homey sitting room and a big, noisy kitchen. The latter room echoed with the chatter of children’s voices, the barking of the big black dog, and the clangor of pots and pans clearly being used to make breakfast for the Potter family. From the recesses of the kitchen, a high, rich voice called out, still a little ragged from sleep.

“Harry, love? Who was at the—?”

Ginny Potter’s voice trailed into silence as she appeared in the doorframe and caught sight of her husband followed by her former professor. She stared, wall-eyed, for a moment, and then clutched at the dressing gown hanging from her shoulders, covering up a thin, flowered nightgown.

“Professor Snape,” Ginny said lightly, trying to cover her surprise with a tone of warmth. “I didn’t expect to see you so early on a Sunday morning. Welcome to our home.”

“Mrs. Potter,” he acknowledged stiffly, unsure of what he should say to her.

He tried not to grimace; this sort of situation was exactly why he preferred to scare away all his former pupils: he had no idea how to rid his head of the image of a child in school robes when looking at the very well-developed, attractive young wife in front of him. Add to that the uncanny resemblance to Lily, and it all made for an extremely uncomfortable moment of silence.

She snorted a bit at his stilted greeting but smiled nonetheless. “It’s nice to see you looking so well, Professor. You must have had quite a good night’s sleep.”

With one glance, he could tell that the little chit was trying to roust a reaction out of him to gauge how the previous evening had proceeded. Silently applauding her pluck, Severus smoothed his face into placid lines, threw up his best mental shields, and answered, “Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Potter. I’ve been enjoying excellent health lately.”

“That’s good news,” she said with a smile, but he could see her frustration just behind the almond-shaped brown eyes. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

“That’s kind of you,” he said, “but I have pressing matters to discuss with your husband.”

At that moment, Harry leaned around Severus to place a kiss on Ginny’s cheek. Obviously concerned at his serious expression, she started to speak, but he held her off with a soft, “We’ll be in the library. No interruptions, all right?”

Ginny nodded, glancing from her husband to the stoic professor, then turned and made her way back to the throng of children and animals. Harry waved Severus on towards a room at the back of the house. When Severus entered the doorway, his jaw dropped just a bit in surprise. Clearly under the influence of several very well-placed Expansion Charms, the room boasted of slanting twelve-foot ceilings that were brushed by numerous bookshelves. A library to say the least. Severus had no doubt that this was not only a reading room, but a chamber devoted to practical application of Potter’s work as an Auror, as there was little furniture, all of which had been positioned around the edges and corners of the room, and very plush floors, making it possible for spell practice without injury. Tucked away in a corner, almost as if both the object and the owner were ashamed of its presence, was a leaded-glass cabinet filled with a few medals, Potter’s Order of Merlin awards, and (strangely) the open halves of a broken Snitch.

Severus remembered with an abrupt jolt that Potter was watching his assessment of the room, so he pulled together his thoughts, strengthened his Occlumency, and took one of a pair of leather wingbacks in front of an empty fireplace at the far end of the room. Harry joined him wordlessly, his brows pulled together as he took a few deep breaths. Severus crossed one leg over the other and bided his time, all his demeanor masking the urgency shaking his nerves.

“First of all, Severus,” Harry started, ignoring the man’s scowl at his casual use of the given name, “I’ll state right away that I had no idea whom Hermione was writing to until last night, once your dinner was already underway. I made the connection while on a little joy ride, and I shared my thoughts with Ginny immediately afterwards, but I didn’t have any clue who she was writing to before last night. In fact, I didn’t even know she was writing to anyone until last night.”

Severus nodded but said nothing.

“You have to understand my concern, Severus,” Harry said uneasily.

The young man’s face pinched in unhappiness and worry, and for a moment, Severus saw the eleven-year-old that Potter must have been all those years ago – scared, uncertain, friendless – that he had never bothered to acknowledge.

“You have to understand how worried I am for Hermione,” he continued. “Aside from my family, she and Ron are the most important people in the world to me. She’s a strong woman and an even stronger witch, but she has the softest, most compassionate heart I’ve ever seen on anyone. It would be so easy to trample her. I ought to know,” he admitted, a sardonic smile on his lips, “I’ve done it myself often enough in twenty years.”

“Potter, whatever you think—”

“Please,” he said, holding up a hand. “Please, let me finish.”

Clenching his jaw, Severus gestured for him to continue.

“I won’t tell you that if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you. I think that goes without saying. But to be frank, I don’t think you’ll hurt her. Not on purpose. It’s the on-accident that I’m worried about.”

Severus stayed quiet for a moment, pondering his response. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Harry sighed, running his hands through his unruly black locks. “If things went well last night – and I won’t presume to ask if they did, that’s not my business,” Harry added quickly. “If they went well, you’d better be in it for the haul, Severus. Hermione isn’t the sort who loves short-term. And if you’re not in it for the long haul, then you’d better get out now, before anyone gets any more hurt than they already are. Especially if there’s a child involved, now or in the future.” Harry’s voice dropped to a near-whisper before he said, “I don’t think she could take it if it all crumbled beneath her again. It would kill her.”

The two men were quiet for a long time, simply looking at each other. Every now and then, when green eyes locked on black ones, Severus felt a blunt banging on the wall he’d erected around his mind. Gradually, the banging dulled to a soft, elusive stroke, searching for chinks in the armor. When the tendril found none, a low chuckle left Harry, and he sat back in his chair.

“You never change,” he said with a smile.

“You do, it seems,” Severus answered, allowing a small quirk to the tip of his lips. “In skill if not in subtlety, at least.”

Harry laughed at the back-handed compliment, and dropped a mock half-bow. His face slid into seriousness again for a moment. “Do I need to worry, Professor?”

“Back to honorifics, are we?” Severus quipped. His face turned serious. “There is always something to worry about, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry,” the younger man said, warmth in his voice but his face unsmiling.

“Harry,” Severus repeated, as if the word were a foreign language.

After a moment of silence where Potter stared into the empty space ahead of him, Severus dared to say, “Harry?”

When the younger man’s head rose, Severus trained his eyes on the ones so like Lily’s. And let open a chink in the armor. He watched Potter jerk back with the force of the sudden flash of memory. The idea hadn’t been premeditated, and Severus nearly shuddered with the embarrassment of showing Potter that tender moment when Hermione had admitted her feelings for him, but it was the closest that Severus could come to a tacit concession of what he was going to do. When the green eyes cleared, they were steady as he regarded the man who had once loved his mother.

“It won’t be easy.”

“Most likely the hardest thing you’ve ever done,” Harry acknowledged, nodding. “Is it worth it?”

“Need you even ask?” Severus said.

Eventually, Harry rose from the chair and escorted his former professor to the front door.

Struck by a sudden fit of humor, Severus’s lips turned up at the edges. “So this wasn’t why you were so adamant to invite me to dinner?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “No, I just thought that if this Joy person actually had chucked you, you would be vulnerable enough that you wouldn’t hex my bollocks off for making a social invitation.”

Severus actually allowed himself to laugh as he strode up to the door. “Nothing if not an opportunist, aren’t you?”

When Severus crossed the threshold, he was surprised to see Potter’s hand extended to him. A bit baffled, he took it and allowed the younger man to shake his hand.

His face a study of blank calmness, Harry said, “Good luck, Severus. You’ll need it.”

With a swift nod, Severus stepped off the front stoop, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

As soon as the Potions professor was gone, Harry became aware of Ginny behind him. He sighed as she wrapped her arms around his middle, stroking her hands across the soft cotton t-shirt covering his lightly-muscled chest.

“Did he say—?”

“Nope,” Harry answered.

“So you don’t know what happened?”

“Oh, I do,” he said.

“Did they—?”

“Yep.”

“And did she tell him—?”

“She most certainly did.”

Ginny scowled against her husband’s back, but placed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “And is he going to—?”

“I have no idea.”

Harry didn’t feel great about lying to Ginny. Fairly certain he knew exactly what Severus Snape was about to do, something stopped Harry from telling her, as if just talking about it aloud would change everything.

A most unwelcome cold draft stole underneath the covers, shaking Hermione from sleep. She wanted so much to just lie here for the entire day, lounging in the warmth, both literal and figurative, that she got from being near her new paramour. It was certainly strange, thinking of her former professor as both her love and her lover, but something inside Hermione felt as if it had clicked into placed last night. She felt like the whole of her life prior to that moment had been a peg that fit into the hole in her heart, but was just small enough that it didn’t quite touch the edges, no matter how she slid things around. Being with him last night, she felt … locked into place, as if everything she’d always wanted could truly begin now. It was a peculiar feeling, but she found herself completely warmed by it. And by him. Hermione scooted across the bed, in search of heat from his long, lanky body.

But no matter where she moved, she couldn’t find him. For a long moment, Hermione was thoroughly baffled, her sleep-addled mind not really comprehending what it absorbed: Severus was not in bed. She sat up slowly, drawing the comforter up with her, and peered around the room, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the watery light spilling in around her drawn curtains. Uncertain as to what she had expected to find, Hermione became increasingly anxious as she looked around her bedroom. Not only was Severus Snape not here, neither were his possessions. The dark robes, long, smooth wand, the big, clunky boots (that he somehow managed to tromp around in and still be silent as a shadow) … they were all gone. Severus had gotten up, gotten dressed, and never wakened her. A frown pulling brows together, Hermione stretched out to snatch her wand off the nightstand.

“Homenum Revelio,” she said in a shaky voice.

Nothing. He was gone.

Hermione’s hand shook around her Vinewood wand, and she found herself fighting back an alarming feeling of sudden sickness in her throat. He was gone. He was gone and he hadn’t told her he was leaving. Her breathing started to race as she scrambled from the bed and heaved on the first pair of knickers that hit her fingers from her wardrobe. Throwing on a set of dove grey casual robes, Hermione dashed from the bedroom, wand in hand, and chased down the stairs. She stalked from room to room in a panic, searching every inch of her tiny cottage with her eyes and casting Revealing Charms every few steps. No matter what she did, no matter what charms she used, no matter how many times she looked, she couldn’t deny the sinking of her stomach as she realized that he was, indeed, gone.

Walking back up the stairs in a daze, Hermione tried to tell herself that he had just stepped out for a copy of the Prophet or to get breakfast from Hogsmeade. She picked at her robes and assured herself that he must have just gone out into town for a moment to bring back some delight or other to surprise her with. He hadn’t gone, not really. She started repeating it over and over. He hadn’t gone. He’d be back. He hadn’t gone. Her wobbly knees buckled a bit, and she stopped her ascent. Plunking down on the stairs with an audible thud, she leaned her head against the wall and stared at the back of her red front door. He’d be back.

Only, an hour and a half went by with no movement from the front door, no tell-tale pop of Apparition. Two hours. Then three. Hermione couldn’t fight it anymore. He’d gone. She couldn’t understand why she felt so panicked; she wasn’t his keeper, and they hadn’t agreed to any long term arrangement of any kind. But those moments in the pre-dawn where he had made love to her so passionately, hot tears that he tried to restrain trickling down her neck, she’d clung to him and to the promise of his love that hung in the air. The promise of the future. And yet, as she moved back to the bedroom like a zombie, she realized that the promise she’d returned hadn’t been given in the first place: he’d never said he loved her. Oh, certainly, his words had implied the fact, but he’d made no declaration, she had simply assumed the intent of his words and offered her own. Perhaps, she thought, stomach plummeting into her feet, she’d completely misinterpreted the meaning of the tears. Perhaps they were tears of grief. Perhaps he’d known he couldn’t seek a future with her ….

Shaky limbs no longer agreed to support Hermione. She toppled backwards onto her bed, sprawled out at first, then curling into a fetal position as the horrifying reality set upon her. It was all too much for him; he had left because he couldn’t stand to face her with a goodbye. He’d never really declared any deeper emotion, but he clearly didn’t want to hurt her, so he’d gotten up and left to spare her the embarrassment of facing him. The sheet beneath Hermione’s cheek was curiously wet. She pushed herself to a half-sitting position to reach for a tissue from her nightstand when she saw it: a crumpled collection of orange and black petals lying on her pillow. She’d removed the Roaring Tiger Lily from her hair as she’d discarded her robes the previous night, placing it on the seat of her vanity chair so it wouldn’t get destroyed in their haste. The fact that it had moved from chair to pillow could only mean that Severus had picked it up and placed it there. With a blow like a troll’s club, Hermione realized that he’d left it for her in lieu of a parting note. He’d given it to her so he could recognize her, but now, it seemed to shout that he’d thought better of the recognition. He couldn’t handle knowing that Joy Bundle was Hermione Granger.

Trying not to sob, Hermione stumbled down the stairs and into her sitting room, heaving a rather larger than necessary handful of Floo powder into the hearth. When the green flames shot up, Hermione shouted the location of her best friends in a breaking voice, then heaved her head through to the other side.

“Harry? Ginny!” she cried. “Please, please! Harry? Ginny? Somebody! Please, I need you!”

Almost immediately, her flame-haired figure of her best girlfriend skidded into the kitchen, dropping to her knees and clutching at the rug. “What is it, darling?” Ginny asked hurriedly. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione tried to answer but could only dissolve into hiccupping sobs.

“Steady on, love. Tell me what’s—”

Hermione could only sob louder, so Ginny nodded.

“All right,” Ginny said in a bracing voice. “Back up; I’m coming through.”

Following her friend’s instructions wordlessly, Hermione scrambled back away from the hearth and curled up against the nearby rocker. Almost immediately, Ginny Potter appeared on the hearth rug, brushing at her robes momentarily, until she saw Hermione’s state and instantly dropped to the floor to throw her arms around her friend’s heaving shoulders.

“Okay,” Ginny said in the soothing voice she usually reserved for her children. “Okay. I think you’d better start from the beginning.”

The diminutive black-haired Healer stalked through the halls of St. Mungo’s with fury clearly written on her face, so much so that despite her size, she left a wake of cringing, terrified people hopping out of her way as she passed. When she finally reached the waiting room that she’d been directed to, she was sorely tempted to shout but managed to rein in the instinct. Barely. And only because there were at least fifteen other people to witness the tirade. Incensed, she strode up to the dour man who stood as she approached, scowling down at her from an impressive height. Unfortunately, his advantage showed no visible effect on the target of his glare.

“About time you—” he started, but the tip of an applewood wand jammed into his sternum stopped the rest of his sentence. He glared at it momentarily, then up the wand and arm to its owner’s face.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, charging in here like this?” Healer Levy spat in an enraged whisper. “I ought to hex off whatever sticks out the farthest. I’ll start with your nose and work south.”

A smirk quirked one side of his lips; despite the fact that Euterpe was obviously irate, he couldn’t help but be amused at her pluck. Not just anyone would dare to say such words to Severus Snape.

“It is a matter of extreme importance,” he said imperiously.

“Importance?” she cried. “Importance! You insulted three secretaries, hexed five orderlies, and terrified two apprentice Healers sufficiently enough that they pulled me away from an incredibly difficult and delicate surgery just to find out what the hell you want. Unless your situation involves imminent death or dismemberment, I’ll thank you to wait your turn just like everyone else! Or I’ll ensure that your situation does involve both death and dismemberment.”

Supremely unfazed by her tirade, Severus wrapped a long-fingered hand around Euterpe’s upper arm. “I need to speak with you. Now. It is a matter of extreme importance.”

“Severus, you’re not bleeding or visibly hurt so you can damn well wait.”

“I’ve already waited over an hour!”

Euterpe’s hands went to her hips as she jammed her wand into the bun at the back of her head. “Well, this is a busy hospital, Professor, and you’re not the only person who needs to see me today. And, as I said, since you’re not bleeding or visibly damaged, you’re low on the priority list.”

Severus gritted his teeth and threw a glance towards the clock just behind her head. It had already been four hours since he’d left Hermione’s cottage, between his visit to the Potters, breakfast at Hogwarts, and the long, tense hour in the waiting room here. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“Please,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Please, I need to speak with you.”

Something of the desperation he was trying to stifle must have showed in his tone because the furrows of displeasure in Euterpe Levy’s brows smoothed just the slightest bit. She whirled around and started to walk back to her office, making a swift gesture for him to follow. He trailed along after her at a short but safe distance – honestly, he didn’t trust her patience to hold – and walked in silence. When they finally reached the little office, barely bigger than a cubby within the branch of the hospital dedicated to Obstetrics and Gynecology, she seated herself behind the desk and glared at him until he lowered his long frame into the chair on the other side.

“Talk,” she said in a clipped voice. “And it had better not be a waste of my time.”

It took Severus a few moments and a few deep breaths to marshal his courage before he spoke. “I need to know if you gave her anything,” he said quickly. “Before we met. If you gave her something that changed the way she feels about things. Did you give her anything?”

Healer Levy raised a slim eyebrow and looked almost – but not quite – amused. “That’s the closest I’ve ever seen you come to babbling.”

He scowled, which only increased the amusement on her face.

“You’re going to have to clarify that for me, Severus. And I did tell you not to waste my time.”

He restrained a growl. “Hermione. I want to know if you gave Hermione anything that would alter her perception or feelings in regards to her situation. Anything that would make her more likely to feel something for Tobias.”

Healer Levy’s features dropped in shock. “Are you suggesting that I drugged her with some sort of emotion-altering potion because I knew who Tobias was?”

“Did you?”

For a moment, Euterpe was both surprised and insulted that he would make such an accusation to both her character as a person and her integrity as a Healer, but then she saw the glint of something behind his eyes. It was miniscule, barely noticeable, but she’d seen it in the eyes of countless patients: desperation. Unmitigated fear. So she calmed herself a bit before responding.

“Are you really so suspicious, Severus?” she said, folding her hands across her desk. “You know me as a Healer; what would make you think I would meddle in the lives of my patients? It’s not only illegal and grounds for termination, it’s unethical in the extreme.”

He almost smiled; whether she was honestly curious about his motives or whether she had tried to out-Slytherin a Slytherin, it would have made him smile had he not been so fraught.

“Did you?” he repeated.

She sighed. “No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Aside from everything else that’s wrong with that accusation, it’s not my place, Severus.”

He nodded, but still seemed unsatisfied, so she went on.

“I gave her hormones to help with implantation after the first round of treatment failed. And,” she admitted, surprised that she was doing so, “I’ll confess that I did lace the hormones with a potion for clear vision. Figuratively speaking, of course,” when he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t find that to be overstepping my boundaries as a Healer, as Hermione was very emotionally conflicted about the whole insemination and single-parenthood process.”

“And the ‘clear vision,’ as you put it, had nothing to do with the fact that you knew who the donor was? You didn’t try to alter her perception of me at all? Or maybe this potion for ‘clear vision’ was to encourage her to give up the insemination process?”

“No,” Euterpe said firmly. “And if I had given her something on that score, it would have been to give her a great big shove towards you, you big lout! Why do you think I told you that you’d make a good parent? I also told Hermione that she picked a good man, and that you’d make a wonderful father. I didn’t need to give her a potion to make her care for you, Severus; she quite obviously already did. But clearly you two needed a good swift kick to get you both to get off your arses to work up the courage to meet each other!” After a moment to calm her anger again, she added, “Did she say or do something to cause this suspicion, Severus?”

Severus shifted in his chair, trying to decide how much to tell the petite Healer.

“Severus,” she repeated softly. “What happened to give you this suspicion?”

Eventually, he sighed heavily. “She said something …”

“Something to make you think she was not herself?”

Unable to word it, he simply nodded.

“What was it?” After a long pause with no answer, Euterpe left her chair, rounded the desk and knelt at his feet to gaze up into the black eyes that had been avoiding hers. “Severus, what did she say?”

“Well,” he started, then cleared his throat. “We decided to meet in person last night—”

“I know.”

“And we met for—you know?” Severus asked, surprised.

Euterpe nodded, patted his knee, then sat in the chair opposite him. “Yes, I do. Hermione owled me to tell me that you two were going to meet face-to-face because she thought I should be kept abreast of … possible physical developments.”

Severus couldn’t help the scowl on his face, nor the light blush that painted his sallow cheeks. He most certainly did not appreciate his sexual encounters – in this case, a theoretical sexual encounter – being broadcast to the world at large.

“Yes, well,” he said, but reined in his anger. “We did meet last night and things … escalated.”

“The two of you made love, then?”

Shifting in his chair, Severus clenched his fists and tried not to growl at the woman. “We did,” he said curtly. “And in a fit of emotion, she said … that is to say, she admitted—”

“That she loves you?”

Severus grimaced into the younger woman’s smiling, hopeful face, then had to look away. “She was simply overwhelmed by hormones and the heat of the moment,” he said gruffly.

“Oh, Severus, don’t be stupid,” she said with a laugh. “Any fool could see she was in love with you just by looking at her face when she talked about you.”

“Really?”

If he had looked into it far enough, Severus would have been disgusted with the fact that he sounded like nothing so much as a nervous teenager. But, he supposed, in essence that’s what he was: a man on the precipice of his first real love. It was petrifying.

“Yes, really,” Euterpe said with a smile. “Now, the real question is: did you say it back?”

Here, Severus’s brows drew together. “I … It is a hard thing for me to say, Euterpe,” he said uncomfortably, “for reasons you couldn’t possibly understand. It is fraught with complications.”

“Bollocks on complications,” she said with a snort. “You’re scared. That’s really what this is about. She loves you, you love her, and that absolutely terrifies you.” He started to rebut, but she spoke over him. “You didn’t say it back, did you?”

“It is too soon to be declaring—”

“Did you even talk about it before you left?”

“I didn’t want to wake her—”

“Why are men so bloody thick?” Healer Levy said with a grimace. She scooted her chair close, taking up Severus’s big hand in both of her own and ignoring the look of panic on his face. “If you didn’t say it back and you left this morning without addressing the topic, she’s going to think you don’t love her.”

“Hermione is far too practical—”

“Practical, my arse,” she bit off. “She’s very smart and very strong, but she also cries every time someone she loves has a fight. She’s a very intelligent but very emotional woman, Severus. Trust me on this: if you didn’t say it and you didn’t talk about it, she’s going to think you left because you don’t love her.”

Again he tried to interrupt, but she just clutched his hand and stared him down.

“You need to trust me on this. If you love her at all, if you don’t want to lose her, you need to get your skinny bum out of my office and back to her doorstep. Preferably with some kind of flowers, candy, or jewelry and the best declaration of undying love you can come up with. Now, before it’s too late.”

The little woman yanked him from his chair with surprising strength and heaved him towards the door.

“Shoo!” she cried, waving her hands in a dismissing gesture as he stared at her in confusion. “Go! Remember: flowers, candy, jewelry, and/or begging. And don’t forget the love part! That part is crucial. And tell Hermione to owl me to set up a pregnancy test!”

The last sentence was issued at a bellow as Severus stalked away from her down the hall. He screeched to a halt, his shoulders hunching as he cringed. At least twenty people had stopped to gape and snicker. Realizing at last that Healer Levy was most likely correct in her urgency, Severus decided that it was much too late for pride. He started to run towards the safe points for Disapparating.

He stumbled a bit as he hit her front stoop with a muted crack. Too hasty, Severus, far too hasty. The last errand he’d made had taken him longer than he wanted, and after talking to Euterpe, he couldn’t shake the feeling of a clock ticking over his head. Severus took a few steadying breaths as he stood on her stair, gathering the courage to knock. Before he could get that far, however, he heard a strange noise coming from the room just beyond the front windows, as if someone were skinning a cat. Immediately alert, Severus drew his wand and placed it against the cool wood of the front door, wordlessly casting a surveillance spell. The noises and voices inside the cottage echoed in his ears as if he were a spider in the walls of the cottage.

She was crying. Sobbing if he wanted to be more right about it. He could hear the rustle of robes against the corduroy cushions of her sofa as whoever was in the room with her patted and hugged her. Hermione’s voice was broken and raw from the crying that she’d clearly been partaking of for quite some time now. Severus’s heart dropped into his dragon-hide boots. He was too late.

“A-and,” Hermione stuttered as she tried to pull herself together, “then he … he said that I am b-breath and l-l-life and … and I don’t know, Gin—”

“Ah,” Severus said to himself, “Potter.” He shook his head; he might have known that it would be this Potter if not the other.

“—I don’t know what made me say it, but it just tumbled out.”

Ginny waited a beat of silence before asking, “That you love him?”

Hermione must have nodded, for Severus caught the light scrape of her face against the other woman’s robes. “I did. I said, ‘I love you, too.’ I said it, fool that I am.”

“Why is that foolish?” Potter said soothingly.

He heard the rustle of Hermione sitting up to look her companion in the face. “Why? Because he never said it first!”

“So?” Ginny asked. “So you said it first; big deal! Why does that mean he’s not coming back?”

“Don’t you get it, Ginny? It’s not about pride or the order in which we declare things,” Hermione said, her voice slightly hysterical. “I said, ‘I love you, too.’ Too. I assumed that he loved me when he never said he did!” A loud sniffle and the rough drag of her nose across her sleeve made Severus cringe. “He never said he loved me, Gin. And the tears … he cried against my shoulder as he …. It was all just too much for him. He’s gone, Gin, and I’ve done it to myself. If I were Severus Snape, I would probably do the same thing. Why would he want to tangle himself up with the insufferable, Know-It-All best friend of his worst enemy? God, Ginny, it’s ludicrous to think it would work. He probably just didn’t have the heart to tell me to my face.”

Hermione broke into ragged sobs again with Ginny shushing her with murmured words of comfort and soothingly hugs. Severus couldn’t stand to hear any more. With wobbly steps, he took himself away from her front door. What had he done to her? A shaking hand ran through his hair. He’d convinced himself that morning that he’d be able to make the necessary errands and return before she awoke, but looking back, he’d seen that it was the coward’s way: he’d wanted to face anyone but her to get confirmation of her love. He had been too terrified that she’d say it wasn’t real. But … he did love her. He did. Whatever other stupid complications arose, whoever they’d been in the past, he loved her in spite of it all. And if now wasn’t the time for him to seize the opportunity to do something about it, then he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror again. He had to fix this. Now. And he knew just how to do it.

An hour later, Hermione sat huddled on her couch, curled in the blanket that she’d made to match the one she’d sent to Tobias. Severus, her mind corrected. Severus. Just thinking his name made her start to sniffle again, but she resisted the urge to cry, as her red-rimmed eyes still stung from chafing and puffiness. Sipping at the peach tea Ginny had warmed for her just before she left, Hermione took deep, steadying breaths and tried to think of something else. With a sudden squawk like a startled goose, Hermione brushed at the tea she’d spilled across her front and looked up to see that the frantic rapping noise that had frightened her came from a large owl hulking on the sill just outside the window she sat near, tapping its beak to the glass. The bird had a long scroll tied to his leg. Puzzled, she set her tea on the nearby end table and leaned over to open the window and admit the bird. No sooner was the letter free from his leg than the bird soared back out the window and away from her cottage. Hermione gazed down at the clearly lengthy letter in confusion and then, when she recognized the handwriting, nearly bobbled the scroll into her tea. Ripping open the seal, Hermione watched disconnectedly as trembling hands unfurled the parchment; she felt her heart drop into her stomach as she read the first line.

My dearest Hermione, Beloved, Joy of my shadowed life,

Her hungry eyes devoured the pages of spiky script as fast as her brain could process the words. When she reached the end, she rocketed up from the couch with a squeak of distress and ran to the entryway. Wrenching open the door hard enough to send it banging against the wall, tears cascaded down her cheeks as laughter bubbled from her throat. She threw herself into his arms.

A/N – So what would my fics be without an evil cliffie? At least this time, you have an inkling of where it’s going …. Stay tuned for the eleventh and final chapter.