Acceptance

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Chapter Four

Acceptance

"Give that back, James!" Albus Severus yelled at the top of his lungs, chasing after the older boy who had taken his gift for Rose and run into the kitchen, holding the cheerfully wrapped present above his head.

"James Sirius Potter," Ginny admonished firmly. She quickly handed Hermione the bowl of frosting they had been scooping into a pastry bag and turned to deal with her sons. "Give that back to your brother and behave yourself. You're a guest, not a hooligan."

The older boy handed over the gift and apologised to his mother, smacking the back of his brother's head when her back was turned. Unfortunately for him, his father noticed, his stern look promising a firm talking-to when they returned home. Then Harry took the two boys into the sitting room for a game of Exploding Snap in the hopes that he could entertain them until the cake was ready. If not, Hermione surmised, there were plenty of Weasleys in the room to keep the boys occupied. Ginny excused herself, as well, when Lily shyly came into the room to fetch her, saying that her grandmother needed her.

Hermione smiled contentedly. The cottage was filled to the brim with family members and friends, all vying for space amongst the hundreds of colourful balloons and streamers. The sounds of laughter and children playing echoed throughout rooms, and Hermione was all but bursting with the joy of it, even as she scrambled to finish decorating the cake. The birthday girl was currently waiting quite patiently, sitting at the dining room table on her father's knee, showing off the letter from Hogwarts that had arrived by owl that morning.

Ron appeared suitably impressed and very proud of his daughter, telling anyone who would listen that he was certain his Rose would be Head Girl one day ... and a Gryffindor one, at that. Luna inserted that, given Rose's intellect, Ravenclaw might be the House for her.

Rose agreed. "Gryffindor does have a rather rambunctious reputation, Dad. Ravenclaw might be more conducive to studying."

"If you keep using words like 'conducive,' you'll be a Ravenclaw for sure!" Ron bemoaned.

Xenophilius' boisterous laughter resounded throughout the house. "Nothing wrong with Ravenclaw, Mr Weasley. Why, I myself came from that industrious house, and look what's become of me!"

Ron cast a terrified glance at his wife, but Eleanor only laughed and told Rose that it didn't matter into which House she was Sorted. Ron, of course, vehemently objected, stating that his daughter would be a Gryffindor and that was final.

Hermione overheard the conversation from the kitchen and rolled her eyes, while Severus, who was sitting on a stool watching his wife struggle with the bag of pink frosting, merely smirked.

"Why isn't this working?" Hermione huffed in exasperation.

Severus rose to his feet and moved to stand behind her, his arms coming around to encircle her waist. He placed his hands on hers and slid them down to the bottom of the bag before gently squeezing. With a few flicks of his wrist, he had quickly created a single delicate pink rose. His hands left the bag, and he rested them on her hips. "You could always use magic, you know," he suggested, his deep voice reverberating against her ear.

She shivered and leaned into him slightly. After the night she'd gone to him for comfort, something had seemed to click for both of them. Severus had been more understanding of the dichotomy of her thoughts and had patiently given her the time she had so desperately needed. Hermione, armed with the knowledge of his understanding and the freedom from his expectations...as well as her own...had been more comfortable, more contented with her "new" life. For the past few weeks, she and Severus been spending quite a bit of time together, talking and sharing, which had led to several bouts of rather shameless flirting, leaving Hermione feeling rather tightly strung.

"You don't play fair. And I wanted to make Rose's cake the Muggle way. It's more personal."

"You're a witch, Hermione," Severus said as he returned to his seat, only after dragging his hands along her sides. "Using your magic is just as personal as not."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right." With a swish and a flick, the cake was finished, with eleven perfectly shaped pink roses. "There." She clapped her hands together and smiled happily at Severus. "We're ready. Could you please call everyone into the dining room? I'll bring in the cake."

He laughed, a sound that had quickly become her favourite, and said, "I believe you're as excited as Rose."

Hermione swatted his shoulder as he edged past her. "It's not every day one's daughter turns eleven. It's a momentous occasion."

Severus paused and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "That it is."

Their gazes locked, and Hermione felt the pull of their undeniable attraction. She smiled at him, almost shyly, and then began putting the candles on the cake while Severus went to gather the guests.

Soon, everyone was crammed into the dining room, with Rose seated at the head of the table, a wide grin stretching across her face. Severus peeked into the kitchen, and Hermione gave him the go ahead.

"May I have your attention, please," Severus demanded rather than asked. "Today is the young Miss Weasley's eleventh birthday." His announcement was met with silence. He sighed exasperatedly. "Well? Sing!"

Hermione chuckled at his abrupt order, knowing how he hated to be the centre of attention; it never failed to make him cranky. The guests obviously were aware of this, as well, because they merely laughed and began to sing as Hermione carried in the cake with its eleven lit candles, placing it in front of Rose.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, Dear Rose. Happy birthday to you!"

Her daughter's face was illuminated by the tiny flickering flames as she closed her eyes and made a wish. Hermione leant against the wall and smiled as she watched Rose blow out the candles. She had expected to find the occasion difficult, a reminder of birthdays lost somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Instead, as she watched her parents help Rose cut and serve her birthday cake while Hugo and the other children excitedly observed, Hermione realised how lucky she was to be surrounded by her loved ones on such a special day.

Her gaze found Severus where he stood talking with Xenophilius, and she could think only of how wonderful her life truly was.

Severus turned his head and his eyes met hers, his lips quirking into small smile.

Yes, she was a lucky witch, indeed.

With that thought came the realisation that while she might not remember everything about her past, she really loved her present. She was happy, truly happy, with her life. She and her family were healthy, she had a job that challenged her, parents who had always supported her, true friends who loved her, two wonderful children ... and a husband who adored her.

Perhaps it was time to put the past where it belonged and live here, in the now.

Because she knew, beyond all doubt, there was no other time or place she'd rather be.

*****

Soon enough, the guests were gone, and all that was left was the tidying up. Since Hermione had borne the brunt of the preparations, Severus shooed her upstairs for a long hot soak in the bath while he took care of the mess the party had left behind.

As she soaked, Hermione thought of the epiphany she'd had that day and knew what she wanted to do now. For the first time in a long while, her thoughts and heart were at ease. A profound peace washed over her, allowing all the strain and worry of the past months to melt away. She luxuriated in the fragrant water for almost an hour, reheating the water occasionally with a warming charm. Only when her fingers and toes had shrivelled up like prunes did she leave the bath.

She put on a warm nightgown and her favourite dressing gown, grabbed the necessary items, and then returned downstairs. As she passed through the dining room, she saw Severus at the stove, her teapot waiting at the ready on the counter. Smiling, she continued on into the sitting room, where she curled up on the sofa to wait.

Only a few minutes had passed when Severus entered the sitting room, two cups of tea in hand. "I thought I heard you come down," he said. "You could have joined me in the..." His words stopped abruptly as he noticed the items on her lap.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled. "I think it's time to put the past to bed, don't you?" She ran a hand along the cover of the topmost album and said, "Please sit, Severus. Let's do this together, all right?"

Instead of sitting down, he shook his head, turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen, sending Hermione's heart plummeting to her toes in disappointment. Had she waited too long?

Just as she was about to work herself into an utter panic, he returned with two glasses of wine. "I believe we'll both need this before we're done," he drawled, handing her a glass of the dark red wine, then settling next to her on the sofa.

She smiled, relieved. "Thank you."

Then, with a deep breath, she opened the cover of the first photo album.

*****

"You were a beautiful bride," Severus said as they looked through their photos of their wedding.

"The dress is lovely," Hermione replied. The simple ivory silk gown she had worn was just the sort of dress Hermione liked; it was a basic sheath, cinched just slightly at the waist, and then flowing down to cover her feet. The line of the straight-cut bodice was extended visually by the small bands of fabric that wrapped around her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. Her hair had been left down and apparently doused in Sleekeazy, its natural bushy texture subdued into sleek, smooth waves.

"The dress was rather nice, but I was speaking of the woman wearing it." Severus sipped his wine and then turned the page. "I can't believe how much the children have grown over the past three years," he said, laughing as he watched Hugo and Rose chase each other around the garden; the reception had taken place at the cottage.

Hermione tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against his shoulder. "Children tend to do that. I swear, they seem to grow every time you close your eyes."

"That they do. It seems like only yesterday that Rose informed me that I was in dire need of a little girl and that she was certain her father would be willing to share her with me."

Hermione laughed, correcting her wine glass as it tipped dangerously. "I can only imagine how Ron felt about that."

Severus smirked. "Rose didn't ask...she merely reminded him that he had told her that it was important to share, and that since he had a little girl and I did not, it was only the proper and right thing to do."

"Well, maybe Ron is right after all...sounds rather Gryffindor of her, doesn't it?"

He took a sip of his wine and waved off her comment as she returned her attention to the photos.

She turned the page and smiled at a grinning Xenophilius. He was wearing dark grey dress robes, and his white hair stood out from his head like a giant puff of cotton. "Your best man?" Hermione asked.

Severus nodded, his own lips twitching in amusement as Xenophilius caught sight of a garden gnome and began to point excitedly. "He is my oldest and dearest friend."

Hermione knew Luna and her father very well, and while she had been witness to the close friendship between Severus and Xenophilius over the past few months, she was still intrigued by the concept; it seemed so unlikely. "And Eglantine?"

He took a sip of wine, and only because she was paying such close attention did Hermione notice the way his hand tightened around the glass. "She was the most selfless creature I've ever known, the epitome of her House: loyal, hard-working, creative."

"You miss her," Hermione said, hearing the lingering edge of wistfulness in his tone. She couldn't imagine having lost Harry or Ron; it would be akin to losing an arm or a leg. Overcome by the desire to offer him some small measure of comfort, Hermione reached out and grasped his hand; slowly, he relaxed his fingers, and she entwined them with her own.

He sighed, the little furrow between his brows deepening even further. "I do."

"From what Luna told me, you were all very good friends," Hermione said, hoping to encourage him to tell her more. After months of walking on egg shells, she suddenly found herself wanting to know as much about him as she could.

"We were."

She looked to the photo on the mantle, the one of the Lovegoods and Severus that she had first seen in Luna's sitting room. "They were there for you during a very dark time. Is that why they never joined the Order, even though they supported the Light?"

He swallowed hard and then nodded, his jaw clenching with the effort to contain his emotion at her simple question. "Perceptive," he said quietly. "They were, as Eglantine often said, my 'soft place to fall.'"

Hermione rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. "I'm glad you had that place."

"As am I."

*****

"What about Lily?" Hermione asked slowly; she didn't know how he would respond to such a question. Severus had never spoken of Harry's mother, but Hermione was very curious about her.

After a long sip of wine, he said, "What about her?"

"Harry never said what happened, but I know a little. You had a falling out. It was devastating to your friendship...I know that much."

"It was."

In for a penny, in for a pound, Hermione thought. "Harry said ... he said you were in love with her."

"I thought I was, yes."

Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth as she contemplated whether or not to ask her next question. Her curiosity, however, was too strong to ignore. "What happened?"

A muscle in his jaw pulsed, and his entire body stiffened before he deliberately relaxed. "I would rather not discuss the specifics. However, it was my fault, my error ... and although I made a fool of myself attempting to apologise, she never forgave me for it. Xenophilius and Eglantine attempted to repair the rift, but because of my careless actions, the family we had created was irrevocably broken."

Hermione tried to imagine not forgiving her boys for any of the stupid things they had said or done during their Hogwarts years, but she couldn't. "Is that why ..." she wondered aloud, stopping once she realised she was speaking.

He answered her, regardless. "Why I spent years pushing people away? As I said earlier, you're very perceptive."

*****

"You know," she groused after a quarter of an hour of near monosyllabic responses to her queries, "you were much more forthcoming when I first came home."

Home.

That brought her up short. Had she used that word in regards to the cottage before? She didn't think so, yet ... yes. It fit. This was home. A warm, pleasant sensation spread through her extremities...and it wasn't from the wine.

Severus' response interrupted her reverie. "That is because the Healer recommended I be as open and forthcoming as possible. She thought it might ... jog your memory."

"Oh." Hermione was somewhat disappointed.

"Of course, all the questions you are so desperate to have answered are ones that you and I have discussed in the past. Even so, they remain ... difficult subjects for me to consider."

Was it possible to be jealous of oneself?

Hermione wondered if perhaps she'd had too much wine after all.

*****

An hour later, she was sitting sideways on the sofa, facing Severus with her legs crossed, her attention riveted on her husband as he spoke of the friends he so clearly loved. The three glasses of wine he had imbibed had loosened his tongue and relaxed his inhibitions ... or maybe her genuine interest had been encouragement enough. With Severus, it was hard to tell.

"We were an odd lot, a bunch of misfits, really: the eccentric, the Charms savant, the Muggle-born ... and me." He shook his head, a small, almost dazed smile crossing his lips. "Even now I find it incredible that they were willing to befriend such a troubled, sullen boy. I don't know what they saw in me."

But Hermione thought she might know. "I think they each saw reflections of themselves...intelligence, loyalty, bravery."

He scoffed, "Next you will inform me of how I am the embodiment of all four Houses or some such rot. I assure you, I am a Slytherin, through and through."

She rolled her eyes. "But you do possess those other traits. It was only your cunning nature that landed you in Slytherin."

"No," he murmured, gazing blindly into the bottom of his wineglass. "It was the Darkness to which I was so drawn that lead to my Sorting." Severus paused and then grinned. "Did I tell you of the time that Eglantine charmed her copy of Moste Potente Potions to paddle the arse of that mongrel Black every time he called me Snivellus? It was bloody brilliant!"

Hermione laughed...he'd definitely had too much wine.

*****

"What's this?" Hermione said as she turned the page. Severus had become much more accommodating and had Summoned his personal album, filled with photos from before their marriage. They were currently looking at a picture that few had ever seen: Severus Snape, wearing lederhosen and scowling as he stood next to a visibly ecstatic Xenophilius, who was also clad in lederhosen and all but jumping up and down in excitement as he pointed somewhere outside the photo.

"What in the world were you doing?"

Severus gave a long-suffering sigh. "We were in Sweden, searching for Crumple-Horned Snorkack. I can't seem to convince the man they don't exist."

"I didn't think they wore lederhosen in Sweden," Hermione mused.

He grimaced and said, "They don't."

Hermione laughed while Severus glared at her in mock indignation.

Once her laughter had diminished, she looked a bit closer and noticed the silvery scars on Severus' neck, thanks to the open-necked shirt he was wearing in the photo. "This was taken after the war."

A heartbeat later, he answered. "Yes."

She looked up from the photo to stare at him, her mind whirling. "They knew," she said, astounded. "Xenophilius and Luna knew you were alive the entire time?"

He snorted. "More than that...they saved my life, then got me out of Britain. And then they kept my secret for over a decade."

They had known. She had been inundated by nightmares for years about what she had witnessed at the Shrieking Shack ... and plagued with guilt that she had left him there without even attempting to help. And all that time, Luna had known but been unable to alleviate her pain.

"I was there, you know. I saw you...when you ... when I thought you'd ...." She looked away, her eyes filling with tears at the memory of him lying helpless in a pool of his own blood. "I'm so sorry."

"I know, Hermione" he said, moving his arm so that she could settle against his side. "I know."

*****

"What made you return to Britain?" Hermione asked, sipping at the cup of tea Severus had insisted she drink, saying the wine was making her "rather maudlin."

He shrugged. "It was time. I was growing tired of Italy...despite the beautiful surroundings...and I wanted to spend more time with Xenophilius and Luna. We had spent years pretending, hiding our friendship after I joined the Death Eaters, with everyone believing they had cut all ties with me. Thankfully, no one ever questioned it, and we managed to meet over dinner at their house every week until the Dark Lord returned. Then I truly did cut all ties, despite Xenophilius' objections, in order to protect them. I've never been more frightened in my life than the night I heard that Luna had been captured during the last few months of the war...if her connection to me had been discovered ...." He paused and cleared his throat.

"In any event, after the war exhibit at the Museum of Wizardry opened, it seemed that I would be welcome, and there was no longer a need to hide. As I said, it was time." He paused, then frowned. "That, and the idiots in charge of the exhibit had placed the section on my role in the centre of the exhibition hall ... as if I were some sort of bloody hero. Someone had to sort them out."

Hermione laid a hand on his arm and smiled gently. "You are a hero, Severus."

He shook his head. "No. I was a spy, and my motivations were not always as noble as some would choose to believe," he concluded with a knowing glance in her direction. "My part in the exhibit should have been located in some dark corner, in the shadows ... just as I was."

"You're not in the shadows any longer," Hermione reminded him, squeezing his arm lightly.

He looked at her and gave her a small smile. "No. Now I can stand in the light."

*****

They had changed positions so that Severus had his back against the arm of the sofa, one leg stretched along its length, the other foot firmly planted on the floor. Hermione was situated between his legs, her back against his chest as they continued to look the photos together.

"What is she saying?" Hermione asked, laughing at a picture of Severus pushing Rose in the swing that was in the tree in the garden. A wide smile lit her face as she flew forward, then back.

"Let me see," he said, propping his chin on her shoulder as she pointed to the photo. "Ah, yes. I remember that day quite well. It was soon after you and I began seeing one another. She was squealing like a banshee and demanding that I push her higher. My ears are still ringing."

Hermione laughed and turned the page, her heart swelling at the photo of Severus on the very sofa on which they were now sitting, with Rose and Hugo cuddled up on either side of him, their ginger-haired heads resting on his chest and his arms about their shoulders. A copy of The Beano was precariously held in Severus' lax fingers, and all three of them were asleep.

"They adore you," she said, tracing her fingers along the photo's edge.

He smiled crookedly. "The feeling is mutual."

*****

"How did we ... renew our acquaintance?" she asked, realising that she had no idea how they had come to find each other.

"Such formality," Severus teased. "Through Luna, of course. I was at her house to collect the belongings I had entrusted to her care, and you happened to be there for tea. By that time, you had known that I was alive and back in Britain, but we hadn't crossed paths until then. You were inquisitive, as always, and before I knew I knew it, we had agreed to meet for dinner the following evening to continue our discussion. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Oh."

He smirked and arched a brow. "You were expecting something more scandalous?"

"Well, it is rather ... ordinary," she admitted. "I suppose I was expecting something a bit more unusual or exciting...like a research project, perhaps."

He laughed. "How cliché."

With a mock scowl, Hermione stuck out her tongue, and then she grinned.

*****

They had finished going through the photo albums and now were simply enjoying each other's company. Hermione was still reclining against him, her back against his chest and her head tucked beneath his chin. One of his arms was resting on her stomach while the other was slung across the back of the sofa.

"I've missed this," Severus murmured into her ear.

She smiled. "Me, too."

"You don't remember this."

"No," Hermione said, with a sly grin. "But I can imagine."

He placed his mouth against her ear, and Hermione shivered as he replied in a low, smooth voice, "And have you imagined this often?"

"Sometimes," she said slowly, grateful that he couldn't see her the way her cheeks had flushed at her admission.

Severus did not respond, but the fingers of the hand that was resting on her stomach began to move in small, deliberate circles.

He was trying to kill her.

After several minutes of the exquisite torture, he began to speak in a torrent of softly spoken words, as if he could not keep his thoughts from escaping his lips. "I always believed that I would live out my days in solitude, and I had accepted it as my lot in life. After I joined the Death Eaters, my life was not conducive to romantic entanglements. There was never a safe time to bring someone into my life, and even if there had been, I felt undeserving. Even so, I desperately wanted what Xenophilius and Eglantine had ... that sort of soul-deep connection. I even admitted as much to them one evening in a drunken bout of self-pity."

He paused, and his fingers stilled their movements. Hermione held her breath, wondering if he would continue or if he had suddenly realised that he was revealing more than he had intended. Then his fingers began to move again, and he continued.

"I never believed for a moment that I would experience that sort of love, that sort of connection with another individual. And then you came along, and it was more than I ever could have imagined." His voice broke, and Hermione felt a warm drop of liquid splash against the back of her neck. "When you lost your memory..."

Hermione's vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears, and she turned in his arms until she was facing him, lying atop his chest. "I'm here now, Severus. I may not remember everything, but I'm here now." She reached up to wipe away the evidence of the single tear that had trailed down his cheek.

He caught her hand before she could move it away, his eyes closing as he reverently pressed a kiss into her palm. When his eyes opened, Hermione gasped as he revealed the full measure of his love and desire for her.

"I have missed your touch," he rasped as he held her palm against his cheek, his burning gaze igniting a fire deep within her soul. "No one ever touched me ... until you."

The tears that had been clinging to her lashes spilled down her cheeks. "So let me touch you," she whispered, the fingers of her free hand trembling as she toyed with a button on his shirt. "I want to ... I want..."

Her words were drowned out by the sound of his tortured groan as he hauled her up his body until they were face to face. "No. Don't do this out of pity or..."

She silenced him, not with her fingers but with her lips. She dominated the kiss, demanding with her mouth and tongue that he grant her entry. When he hesitated, she nipped his lower lip with her teeth, delving inside when his mouth parted in surprise. And then she was lost in the taste and feel of him, in the slide of his tongue against hers as he finally responded and battled for control. Fire burned deep within her, and she willingly offered herself to the flames.

Severus tore his mouth from hers, his breath coming in short pants as he stared at her. "Hermione, are you certain?"

She nodded vehemently, her own breathing ragged as her fingers began to free the buttons of his shirt until her hands were able to slip inside. "I want to be your wife. I want to be your friend, your lover ... and I want you to be mine. My husband. I want you. I want this life. Please," she all but begged. Her entire being, body and soul, screamed for him to accept her words as truth.

His kiss was his reply.

A/N: Thanks again to my betas, DeeMichelle and Subversa, and to my Brit picker, LettyBird. You're the best! I'd also like to thank machshefa for all of her invaluable advice. This story would not be what it is if not for these wonderful ladies!

The next chapter will be up in a day or two ... and it's a big one. Did that build any suspense? ;)