Someday My Prince Will Come

Summary: Hermione seeks an elusive cure for the lasting effects of a curse Bellatrix Lestrange managed to hit her with during the Battle of Hogwarts. Her life has been lost to endless bouts of pain and despair that have plagued her these last two years. But her luck may finally be changing. A reference to a Dark potion in an obscure book may hold the key to her cure. But where will she find a Potions master knowledgeable enough to brew it? Written for Warded_Portal for the SSHG Winter 2007 exchange.

Prompt: AU, EWE: Hurt/comfort. Years after the final battle, Hermione struggles daily with the after effects of Bellatrix Lestrange's special brand of Crucio. St. Mungo's advises treating the symptoms, but Hermione wants to live her life. She goes to the oldest center of Wizarding population, Alexandria, Egypt, chasing a rumour: a Potions master with a dual expertise in Legilimency. For some reason, he doesn't want to help her. Without knowing his true identity, Hermione must persuade him she is worth his time. Romance, happy ending please. (Bonuses include: archaeology, magical artifacts, history, dusty libraries, and moments of crazy stupid in love).

Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters and settings belong to JKR, et al. I promise to return them when I finish playing with them.

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Chapter 6 – Someday My Prince Will Come

Severus had gone to London on business, leaving her alone in the house. Hermione had taken the opportunity to curl up on the sofa and lose herself in a Muggle novel she'd found interspersed among the magical texts. Not expecting anyone, the sudden knock at the door startled her.

Toddy appeared, his hand posed to open the door. "Toddy will see to the visitor, Miss. Master Snape says you is to rest until he returns."

Hermione smiled at the little elf, chuckling quietly when she remembered how Severus had threatened to throw her out if she mentioned S.P.E.W. to him. The door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled Harry Potter standing on the doorstep.

"Harry, come in. Toddy, would you get us a cuppa and maybe a few chocolate biscuits if there are any left?" The elf disappeared into the kitchen only to reappear a few minutes later with an elaborate tea service.

Harry settled into the side chair by the fire, grinning boyishly at Hermione. "Sorry I haven't been by in the last few days, but you look great. How are you feeling?"

"I feel great. My magic is back to normal, and I'm sleeping through the night again."

"Great. So, how about we pack up your things and you come and stay with Ginny and me for a while. We both miss you and everyone's been asking after you. Where's Snape? He can give me a list of the potions you still need to take and we can get out of here."

"Thanks, but really, I'm in no hurry to leave."

"Hermione, you've been here almost six weeks. Don't you think that's long enough? Snape can't be pleased with having you here."

"I was unconscious for the first ten days, Harry."

"Still, this is... Snape we're talking about." Harry smiled sheepishly, hoping to defuse the thunderclouds he could see gathering in her eyes.

"You just can't let it go, can you? He saved my life. No, more than that, he saved my sanity."

"I know and I'm grateful for what he did for you. But don't you think that could be the reason you're not thinking too clearly. He hasn't... done anything to you, has he? I just... Hermione, be reasonable; he's Snape." He knew he was whinging. He couldn't help it. It was... Snape for God's sake. What was there to think about?

"I don't believe you." The young witch's glare cut daggers through him. "After saving my life, after everything he's done, how can you doubt him... still?"

"I know he was on our side. I was there. I saw him fighting. Without him I never would've been able to finish off Voldemort. I know that. I know he switched sides. You don't have to remind me again." Harry held his hand up to forestall her argument. He'd had years of Hermione telling him that he should respect Snape, years of listening to her try to change his mind about the wizard. "I know you respect him. But he started out as a Death Eater. Doesn't that tell you something about the man to begin with?"

"And no one ever changes, right?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

Hermione studied her friend; he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "What about Dumbledore?"

Harry swallowed thickly. "What about him?"

"Was he good, Harry? Did he follow whatever rules you have set down to be a hero? 'Cause I have to tell you, I have a hell of a lot more respect for Severus than I do for Dumbledore. Yes, I know he was a Death Eater. It wasn't the wisest thing to do. And believe me, no matter how many years he's spent trying to atone for that horror, I don't think he will ever be able to forgive himself, so I really don't think he needs you to be judge and jury for him.

"At what point in his life do think he was really given a fair shake? When your father hung him from the tree? When Sirius led him to the Shrieking Shack? How about when Malfoy turned him to the Dark? Or when the Headmaster took him in so he could have a spy in the enemy's camp and used him mercilessly for more than twenty years? He's been used and put upon by more people than either of us will ever know. And still, despite everything that's happened to him, he was willing to give his life because he believed it was the right thing to do. It takes courage to admit you've made a mistake, Harry, especially one of that magnitude. And while I always thought he was a brave man, I think it must have taken tremendous courage not only to admit he was wrong but also to switch sides, to spy on Voldemort, knowing he was signing his own death warrant and doing it anyway because he believed it was the right thing to do. Kowtowing to that monster, playing the part of the dutiful minion, walking the knife's edge for so many years, not expecting to see past the last battle, but risking his life anyway, day after day after day while everyone around him continued to doubt and malign him.

"You want to know what a hero looks like; you want to meet someone truly exceptional? Hang around. Severus will be back shortly." Hermione rose and walked to the stairs. "If you'll excuse me, I'm a bit tired. I think I'll lie down for a while. Tell Ginny I'll Floo her next week."

"Hermione..."

"Goodbye, Harry."

She held herself in check as she moved woodenly up the stairs and down the hall. Her emotions remained closed off until she heard the outside door close behind him.

She didn't want to leave. She was happy here, but the truth was she didn't really belong here. She and Severus had become... friends of a sort. And while she had come to value his friendship, she was starting to feel a growing attraction for the man. There had been times she'd caught him watching her, causing her to think that maybe he felt something for her, too, but was too afraid to broach the subject, fearful of upsetting the delicate balance they had established. Frustration and anger overwhelmed her, and she cried into her pillow until sleep claimed her.

It was where Severus found her when he returned an hour later.

"Hermione?" Severus sat on the side of the bed. Tenderly, he brushed aside the mass of hair that shadowed the witch's face. He could see she'd been crying. "Are you all right? What's the matter?"

"Harry was here." She turned to look up at him, her expression woeful. "He said he missed me and wanted me to stay with him and Ginny for a while."

"I see."

"Do you?"

It was too tempting. She was too tempting. His dreams had been peppered with erotic images of Hermione in various stages of undress for the last few weeks. He'd awoken more than once to find himself hard with need, and on more than one occasion, he'd brought himself to completion thinking of her.

He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip, imagining how she would taste. He was fairly certain she would welcome his attentions. But he'd lived long enough to know nothing would come of it. He was not the type of man women looked for in a partner, and he had no desire to set himself up for failure.

Hastily, he rose from the bed and moved across the room, distancing himself from Hermione. "And your answer was?" His voice was husky with emotion as he watched her move off the bed and walk towards him.

"Does it matter?"

All reason fled as she closed the distance between them. He pulled her to him, his mouth seeking hers, his kiss demanding. Her response was immediate, her body molding to his as fire spread through her veins. Abruptly, he pushed her away. "This is madness. You can't mean it. I assume this is the result of one too many potions in your blood." He rubbed an errant hand across his face. "I can't do this." He turned and escaped the room.

"Severus?" Her voice followed him down the hallway and into the lounge. He could hear the confusion in her tone. A moment later, she entered.

Severus cleared his throat. "Miss Granger..."

"We're back to that, are we?" Defensively, she crossed her arms in front of her.

"Yes, we're back to that. Perhaps Potter is right? Don't you think it's about time you left? You finished the last round of potions two days ago. Your magic has returned en force. Your memories, well, I can't imagine you'll really miss the memory of Bellatrix hexing you. Your friends miss you. So..." He left the question hanging in the air between them.

Hermione studied the dour man through lowered lashes. They seemed to be walking a fine line around each other the last few days. It seemed it all came down to now. "What about you? Will you miss me?"

Severus' face closed. He bowed grandly. "Of course, my dear. I shall miss your sparkling wit, our witty repartee. Your presence fills the house with such light. I shall know only darkness when you leave. Ah, but my heart shall wither and die without you near." His simpering words had the desired effect on the witch, anger flashing in her eyes.

"I sincerely doubt you have a heart. I'll be gone within the hour, Mr Snape." She turned and started back up the stairs, stopping suddenly halfway up to turn and look at him again. "Why did you kiss me?"

She thought he wouldn't respond, silence her only answer.

"Because I could," he said quietly.

Sadly, she nodded. "I see."

He watched her climb the remaining stairs. It was better this way. She was young, headstrong; her life lay before her, the possibilities endless. He didn't want her to stay out of misplaced gratitude. Truth be told, he would miss her. Miss the sound of her voice. Her intelligence. The house would be cast back into shadow once she was gone, but he had no intention of telling the witch that. He disappeared into his lab, not willing to watch her leave. His wards alerted him to the event anyway.

He looked around the empty room, she was gone, and that was that.

But it really wasn't the end. Once you've seen something, you could never unsee it.

And he saw her everywhere.

Years before the house had fallen into a state of disrepair, a fact that had never bothered him until he found himself with a life he hadn't planned for after the final battle. He'd taken what savings he'd had, repaired and furnished the house to his liking, and gone about setting up The Prince's Moste Potente Potables. He took quiet refuge in his laboratory; his days were spent brewing rare and exotic potions that brought top dollar, earning him a comfortable living, and his nights were his to do as he pleased, either furthering his own research or simply enjoying a good book. It was a somewhat Spartan life, but it had suited him after so many years on the edge.

He could return to his solitary existence, but the next time he cut potion ingredients from the back garden, he would see her bending over a plant she didn't recognize. Hear the wonder in Hermione's voice as she asked endless questions about their uses and properties before laughingly apologizing for babbling on. The kitchen would echo with the sound of her voice as he recalled the meals they'd shared, her eyes sparkling with intelligence as they dissected the latest article the witch had cited. His lab had been the last bastion, and now he would have the memory of her sitting at the table preparing ingredients and bottling potions.

She was everywhere he turned, and he'd sent her away.

Sighing dramatically, he pulled a number twelve cauldron from below his workbench and set about preparing his ingredients. A glance at the desk in the corner showed a number of orders waiting to be filled. He'd spent too many hours caring for the witch. Time to get on with it.

He pushed all thoughts of Hermione out of his mind and lost himself in the process of brewing.

He'd lost track of the time, but it was dark outside the lab window when he looked up. He would have continued working until he dropped from sheer exhaustion, he supposed, if his wards hadn't alerted him to her presence.

He found her in the kitchen. Unbelievably, she was setting the table. Was that a Muggle pizza box open on the counter? Severus leaned against the doorframe and silently watched Hermione as she worked.

"I wasn't sure what type of pizza you'd like. Actually, I'm not sure if you even like pizza, but I did notice you like mushrooms, so the pizza is half mushroom and the other half today's special. I brought a nice burgundy with me that you can open, or is there something else you'd rather have?"

Severus didn't move. "What are you doing here?"

"You have to eat dinner. Come, have a seat." Nervously, she gestured to the chair next to her.

"Hermione..."

"I think we should talk, but it can wait until later."

"There is nothing to talk about." Nevertheless, he pushed off the doorframe and grabbed the bottle of wine. Lost in his stupor, he'd forgotten to stop for lunch. As the aroma of fresh garlic bread and pizza taunted his sensitive nose, his stomach chose to remind him his body needed sustenance.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she cast a chilling charm on the two wineglasses she had set out. It was a bold move, showing up uninvited, or sheer stupidity, depending on how one looked at it. She couldn't be sure he still wouldn't hex her or throw her out or both, but at least he hadn't turned and walked away from her. That had to count for something.

"I still haven't finished Nester's article in this month's Potion's Gazette, but did you know he's speaking at a symposium in London next month? Maybe we can get tickets? It might be interesting to see if he's progressed with his theory." From somewhere she had produced a tossed green salad that she proceeded to serve to the two of them.

He sat back in his seat and watched the witch. "Why are you here?"

"What does it look like? We both have to eat." The smile disappeared from her face as she slumped dejectedly in her chair. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"What is it you want?"

"I want to be here... with you." Her voice was barely audible in the quiet of the room.

"You have a home, friends, and a life. Go live it. I didn't save your life to have you bury yourself here with me."

"Then why did you save me? I know that kiss meant something to you; I could feel it. Don't I mean something to you?"

He could see the hope shining in her eyes. "What's on the other half of that pizza?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"A little bit of everything. Sausage, ham, green and red peppers..."

He listened with half an ear, marveling that the object of his earlier ruminations was sitting and having dinner with him – by choice. He had done the right thing, his actions noble and selfless in their execution. Was he to blame if she couldn't take no for an answer?

They talked about Nester's theory, the symposium (yes, he did know about it; he'd turned down their invitation to lecture on Dark potions), and a host of other topics that crossed their minds, all the while ignoring the elephant in the room.

Dinner finished, the two cast a series of simple cleaning charms, leaving the kitchen spotless once more. Severus turned from the counter and regarded the witch standing in front of him.

"Are you going to send me away?"

"I should." Casually, he reached out to her, a half smile gracing his lips as she moved but a breath away from him. She was wearing a Muggle top, her arms bare, the slightest trace of lace above the line of buttons that ran down the front. Slowly, he stroked her arm, his fingers skimming lightly against the soft skin. He watched with barely contained amusement as goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, a line forming from her shoulder to wrist.

Looking into her eyes, he could see the want and desire she felt. His own desire spiraling out of control as his eyes glittered with barely contained lust. The hell with it! He no longer cared what her reasons were for being there. He'd tried to do the right thing, he'd really tried, but it seemed she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Roughly, he pulled her against him, one hand sliding to the small of her back, pressing her into his growing arousal, the other softly stroking her cheek as she nuzzled the palm of his hand. He could feel her body molding to his, her arms sliding around his neck as she reached up to meet his lips.

With the barest of touches, he brushed his lips across hers before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plundered her mouth; his hands roamed her body as he delighted in the feel of her pressed against him.

He moved to open the top button of her shirt, his fingers brushing tantalizingly against her breast. Breathlessly, she pulled back to allow him access. His eyes darkened further as he took in her kiss-swollen lips, her eyes glazed over with lust. He could feel the heat from her hands as she rested them flat against his chest.

"Take me to bed, Severus. Make love to me."

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her up the stairs.

"I do mean something to you."

He shouldered his bedroom door open and dumped the annoying witch onto his bed. "Damn it, yes, you do. Happy now?" he growled.

A smile lit her face. "Yes, very happy." She rose up on her knees and quickly pulled off her blouse. The black lace bra she wore cut low across her full breasts. She released the front clasp, allowing her breasts to spill forth. The scrap of lace sailed through the air and joined her shirt on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Hermione." A strangled moan escaped as the object of his desire bared herself for him. He captured her lips as he struggled to remove his boots and socks before joining her on the bed. "Are you sure?"

"You talk too much, do you know that?"

His laughed at the irony of her comment, amazed at the turn of events. Pinning her to the bed, he claimed her lips once more and lost himself in the woman lying beneath him.

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Thoroughly sated, he lay back and caught his breath. He was inordinately pleased when Hermione nuzzled into his side, throwing one leg possessively over him.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

Though his eyes were closed, she could tell by his breathing he wasn't asleep. "What happens now?"

A quiet chortle escaped. "I appreciate the compliment, but really, even I need more than five minutes to recover. Sleep. We can have another go when we wake up." He tightened his grip on the witch, his hand coming to rest on her hip.

Hermione smiled. "That's not what I meant. I mean what do we do now or tomorrow?"

The dark man watched her through hooded eyes. His voice was quiet, but carried in the stillroom. "What do you want to happen?"

Chewing on her lip, she stalled for time, weighing her answers as to which one he might agree to. "I want to stay here. With you."

"So stay."

"That's it?"

"I'm sure we can come to some sort of an agreement."

"An agreement?" she asked, frowning.

"I would expect you to give up your room across the hall."

"And where would I sleep?" she grinned, playing along.

The look he gave her would have burned varnish off wood.

"So, I'd move in here? I suppose you would expect me to continue making love to you on a regular basis?"

"Perhaps we should draw up a contract so you'll know just what your duties are?"

Her expression turned serious. "Do you really want me here?"

Gryffindors! Or should he just curse women in general? Tenderly, he cupped the side of her face, looking deep into her eyes. He closed the distance between them, the last word spoken against her lips. "I never want you to leave," he whispered before deepening the kiss.

It seemed he didn't need as much time to recover as he thought he did.

~Fini~

Pearle 2007