Chapter 36

XXXVI.

'Home' turned out to be their Muggle-themed hotel room. Severus stumbled and swayed on landing, most of his muscles still drugged enough to make him look like he was in a semi-stupor. Hermione staggered with the effort of keeping him upright. Trying to guide him over to the bed, or at least to the padded bench, she found herself struggling with his weight as he aimed for the bathroom instead. A sluggish grimace, a mumbled request for help as he swayed on his feet, and she steadied him while he used the facilities. After they'd washed their hands, he allowed her to guide him out and around to the bed.

Flopping onto his back, Severus stared at the ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes. "...We cannot stay here. Someone will track us down. This isn't a secure position. But...not my London house. Draco needs to be told what happened, but I don't want him anywhere near me while I'm like this."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. She had seated herself on the edge of the bed, but now stretched out next to him, cuddling up to his side. "Sigurd..."

The dragonette appeared half on Severus' stomach, and half on the arm she'd flung around his waist.

"Take us to Severus' bed at Hogwarts."

A swirl of gold accompanied a dropping sensation, and a jolt that made her squeak. Light filtered down through the one tunnel-like casement window set high in the wall over one of the nightstands. Squeezing her husband, Hermione extricated herself from his side, sitting up and tugging her clothing straight. She would eventually have to return the pocket-watch and her mother's dress-suit, but right now, she had a different task to attend to.

Removing his wand from her clothes, Hermione tucked it into his hand. "Here you go. I'll just nip off to tell Draco you were exonerated, and advise him to turn himself in--maybe even with the same deal we had--then I'll come straight back. Do you need anything before I go?"

"Water. And for you to come back."

Hermione nodded and rose, retreating to the bathroom. She came back with a glass of water for him, setting it on the bedside table. A stoop allowed her to plant a kiss on his brow, then she straightened and headed for the sitting room hearth. "I'll be back shortly!"

A grunt was his only reply.

A casting of the grey-green powder, a whirl through the verdant flames, and she stumbled out onto the hearth-stone at 42 Spinner's End. This time, when Draco came through the archway from the kitchen, he didn't try to hex her. Instead, he peered past her, then folded his arms defensively across his chest.

"...Well?"

She flashed him a grin. "Pardoned of all crimes, British and International!--And you'd better start thinking about how you're going to get yourself out of the mess that you're in, too," she added, sobering. "Maybe we can set up the same deal for you--just have you arrive in time for your court date, rather than let you languish in some cell, somewhere."

The pale-haired wizard eyed her warily. "Why are you willing to help me?"

"Well, I don't think I'd take an Unbreakable Vow for you," Hermione pointed out dryly, "but I can tell you do repent at least some of what you did, and it's a start. That...and Severus wants to help you."

"Ah. Enlightened self-interest," he translated, giving her a tight smile.

"That, and I'm just an annoying sort who likes to help others. Oh...erm," Hermione sought for a way to tell him what had happened. "Your, ah, mum... She was at the trial, and was...unmasked, so to speak. She's been arrested. I'm sorry."

He looked away, avoiding her sympathetic gaze. "I've received an owl from my father. He Apparated away before I burnt everyone, following Mother." A hand lifted from his chest, rumpling his normally tidy platinum locks. "If I...if I turned him in, do you think that would help?--I'm a Slytherin," he added quickly, pinning her with narrowed grey eyes. "I look out for myself, first and foremost. They dragged me into this mess, with all their rhetoric and prejudice. I shouldn't have to keep supporting them in their idiocy. Nor pay for their mistakes."

"No, you shouldn't. And they shouldn't have placed you in the position of having to make the choice of yourself and your own needs over your feelings for your own family," she agreed with what she hoped was a candid sort of sympathy. "But they did, and you're having to deal with it. If you want me to work a deal with Philliston, just let me know. I'll, um, drop by tomorrow--do you need anything, before I go?" Hermione asked politely. "Food fetched from a grocer's, or something?"

Shaking his head, Draco gestured vaguely behind him. "The icebox is full enough. Where's Severus?"

"Hiding from the rest of the wizarding world, in another Secret-Kept place" she confided. "One of the Minister's lackeys tried to poison him with an overdose of Veritaserum. He's been given enough of the antidote to counteract it, but he'll be utterly truthful for at least eighteen more hours." Rolling her eyes, Hermione allowed herself a soft laugh. "You should've seen him. He called the Minister a 'piece of petrified shite-up-your-arse'!"

Draco choked on a laugh. "--He didn't!"

"Oh, he did--and you would've loved what he called Harry!" she added, laughing. "Let's see...what was my favourite... Ah, yes: a 'lumbering, anesthetized brainstem'."

For one second, Draco Malfoy gaped at her in shock. Then he doubled over in laughter so loud and hard, it echoed off the bare, book-stripped shelves around them. Wheezing, he straightened only to sag against the edge of the archway. "Oh...I would've killed to have seen that!"

"Well, I'm sure it'll be in tomorrow's paper," Hermione agreed. "Now, if you don't need anything fetched, I need to get back to my husband and keep an eye on him, just in case he has a relapse." She couldn't Floo out of here while he was still within hearing range--one of the drawbacks to all of the hearths she knew belonging to properties hidden under the Fidelius Charm--but she could Apparate. Hesitating before she left, she offered a polite, "Take care, Draco."

He eyed her with a puzzled look, but nodded after a moment. "You, too. Mrs. Snape. That's the only reason why I'm tolerating you, of course."

"So you say," she smiled wistfully, hoping that one day the prat would get past his own lingering prejudices and attitudes. A pop took her to the empty kitchen at Headquarters, and a cast of more powder into the hearth, accompanied by a prodding of her wand, whisked her back to the hidden apartment in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

In her absence, Severus had stripped off his clothes and donned a nightshirt. She didn't even know he had one, until she walked into the bedroom and watched him pulling the bedclothes over his legs with an unsteady hand, pillows piled behind his back so that he could sit. His dark eyes slanted warily in her direction as she approached the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Vulnerable, cold, physically tired, emotionally exhausted, and in need of pampering. Are you going to take ruthless advantage of my condition?"

Hermione felt the corner of her mouth curving upward. "Perhaps. I do have some questions I would like answered."

That earned her a sour look. He drew a deep breath and let it out roughly. "Will you at least give me the courtesy of answering some questions of my own with equal honesty? Through the rings, since you cannot safely imbibe Truth Serum even if we had any."

Considering his offer carefully, Hermione finally nodded. "...Alright. That would only be fair. But let me get comfortable, first."

Leaving the bed, she rummaged through his wardrobe, finding what looked like another nightshirt. Disappearing into the bathroom, she used the facilities and changed out of her clothes. Though it was still barely mid-afternoon, their sleeping schedule had been topsy-turvy for some time. Hermione suspected the following conversation might end up almost as exhausting as the trial had been. Especially when she considered the interrogation she wanted to give to him.

Dressed in his nightshirt, with the cuffs rolled up and the hem closer to her ankles than her knees, Hermione padded back into the bedroom. Severus had piled some pillows at his side, leaving room for her to join him. But Hermione wasn't interested in sitting up. Climbing into the bed, she snuggled under the covers next to him and settled on her side, facing him.

The pillows still propped her up, but she wasn't exactly sitting. Instead, she leaned forward and tucked her head onto his chest, wrapping her left arm around his waist. The slight curve of her stomach was beginning to get in the way, but for now, it wasn't that much of an impediment.

His own arm tentatively curled around her, pulling her just a little closer. Content, Hermione rested for a moment, then asked, "Is it true? Do you love me? Right now, I mean."

"Yes. I love you right now."

Hermione waited, but he fell silent. His body felt tense, too, as if braced for a blow that might or might not hit. Craning her head, she looked up at him. "...Well? Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Fine. Jane...do you love me?"

The question was softly spoken. She guessed he was afraid of the answer. Rolling away from him, Hermione pinned his arm behind her back. A touch of her thumb to her wedding ring, and she stated, "Severus Selenius Snape, I love you."

Her finger warmed, as did a spot behind her shoulder-blade. He tugged on his arm to pull it free. Hermione pressed it further into the pillows. "Hermione, get off. Get off my arm!"

"Nope. Sorry." She waited until the metal returned to its normal, ambient temperature, then sat up, freeing his limb. Pulling it against his chest, he frowned at her. It wasn't much of a frown, considering his muscles were still lax from the drug, but if he'd been in full control, she decided it would have been a full-blown scowl. Seasoned with a touch of hurt feelings, perhaps?

"I suppose that was another 'punishment'?" he asked her darkly. "Some sort of retaliation for...for what I stupidly did to you?"

"Sort of. But it's more like a lesson in Gryffindor ingenuity," Hermione corrected him as she twisted onto her side again. This time, she didn't cuddle up to him, but left a small gap between their cotton-clothed bodies. "Sigurd, you are summoned."

The dragonette appeared between them, sprawled partly on her legs, partly on his.

"Sigurd, there was a time when Severus, here, said that he loved me, while activating you. Please display to him what his true answer was, at that time."

Black eyes widened as words uncurled themselves from among the scales on the dragonette's reptilian hide.

I did love you.

"When...? How...?" he asked, glancing at her in confusion.

"I was washing dishes at Headquarters one night when a message came through from you. I didn't feel the ring growing hot because the water was warm. I only caught the tail end of it, and in desperation, I summoned Sigurd and asked him if he remembered what it was, and if he could repeat it for me. After you left me, the day I revealed your identity, I asked Sigurd to show me what you'd really meant, when I was tied down and couldn't see it for myself.

"I realized I'd broken your heart, when I read that," Hermione confessed quietly. "I didn't know then that you had one to break, and I'd broken it. For that," and she touched her thumb to the ring as she spoke, forming new words on Sigurd's hide, "I am sorry."

I am sorry.

She was grateful all she had to do was touch her thumb to the ring to let her words be known, now that Sigurd had manifested; it would rapidly get tedious if she kept having to state her husband's full name. Severus lowered his gaze, then looked away. Guessing he thought her little trick of laying on his arm was retaliation, Hermione kept her thumb pressed to her wedding band, and stated, "Severus Selenius Snape, I love you with all of my heart."

Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head back just far enough to glance at Sigurd's writing-marred hide.

I love you with all of my heart.

Sigurd looked even more feline than before, with that narrow-eyed look of contentment that only a smug cat could evince. If he'd had fur instead of scales, Hermione knew he'd be purring, with that kind of look on his draconic little face. She looked away from the guardian, glancing back at her husband. "...That reminds me. Just how smart is Sigurd, anyway?"

Her husband wiped surreptitiously at his face, and it was only then that Hermione realize he was crying. Sniffing to clear his long, thin nose, he shrugged. "Family legend claims the ring-guardian is nearly as smart as his wielders. I suspect John Dee crafted the thing to draw most of its powers and its intellect from its wearers. That would be the most efficient use of resources."

Scooting a little closer, Hermione resumed her original position, with her head pillowed on his chest and her arm around his waist. To her gratification, he wrapped both arms around her, this time. But as much as she wanted to bask in the glow of his love, and the relief that what she thought was her love for him was indeed a truth-confirmed love for him...they still had other things to discuss.

"So. When did your planned seduction of me turn into an honest seduction? The first time around," she amended. "Before my curiosity got the better of both of us."

"I'm not sure. I think when we danced. Or maybe when I first sat down next to you. Or it could have been our first kiss." Again, he shrugged. "I knew for certain I had to save you from that Dementor, and I realized I'd fallen for you at some point during the exposition weekend."

"Did you hide the truth of your feelings from me as a punishment, that night?" Hermione asked.

"Partly. I didn't want you mocking my feelings any further than you already had, either."

She squeezed his ribs a little, and cast about for another subject. "Did Voldemort really know about your plan to use the rings with me from the very beginning?"

"No. Albus and I decided on that months before his death as an option for contact, should I have to kill him myself. I only told Voldemort about it after I learned that Draco was to fix the Vanishing Cabinet and allow the Death Eaters onto the school grounds. I swore to him that if the boy balked, even slightly, I'd kill Dumbledore myself, rather than risk Albus using his magic against the rest of us. I convinced him that Albus trusted me, as his spy among the Death Eaters. That he'd never believe I'd allow him to die, let alone do the deed myself.

"The Dark Lord warned me that my value as his spy among the Order of the Phoenix was too high to throw away, and that was when I revealed to him the betrothal-rings, and that I'd selected you as intelligent enough to be of use, yet gullibly naive enough to be duped into believing I was someone else. And I told him that since they were enspelled marriage-rings, I was willing to take you as my wife, albeit in disguise," Severus revealed dryly as she listened to the steady thumping of his heart. "I said that, given you were the brightest and most powerful witch I'd seen in nearly two decades of teaching, I was interested in sowing you with my seed, and having you give birth to powerful, intelligent children who would be half-bloods. That I'd raise them to obey me, and to honor the Dark Lord, and believe in the superiority of wizards over Muggles.

"After Sigurd awoke and defended you, he guided me through the preparatory steps of the fertility potion you later destroyed," he confessed. "His object was to gather enough gametes to have you bearing up to a dozen children, whatever happened to me, thus guaranteeing both our superior genetics would not be lost due to the war, since Sigurd would protect the mother of my children. And that many witches and wizards would be powerful allies to add to his cause."

Hermione snorted at that. "Didn't he realize I'd never allow him to 'add' them to his ruddy cause?"

"The plan was to kidnap them and give them to his other followers to raise, should anything happen to me."

"Yet, you told me that you were only going to wait until there was enough collected for three children, not a full dozen," Hermione reminded him, suppressing a shudder of fear and anger at the thought of anyone trying to take her future children away from her. There was more than one reason to be glad that the Dark Lord was now irrevocably dead.

"I'm not that enamoured of imitating Arthur Weasley." The flatness of his tone sprang from honesty, not the effects of the drug in his system. "An heir, yes. One or two siblings, so the child would not grow up lonely, yes. More than that, no."

Tilting her head, she looked up at his face. "Do you truly want children of your own? Will you be a good father to them?"

"Yes, and I have no idea what kind of a parent I will be toward them. I'm terrified of turning out like my own father, a drunkard, an abuser, and an adulterer."

Lifting herself a little, Hermione looked into his eyes. "Severus, if you can be Russel, then you can be a good father. All you have to do is not be whatever you don't want to be. Just be the opposite! You do have good instincts, under all that foreboding, repressive angst."

A sound escaped him. It could've been a laugh. From the gleam in his dark eyes, Hermione thought it was a laugh. She snuggled down again, and continued her gentle but ruthlessly expedient interrogation. There was no sense in wasting all that perfectly good Veritaserum drugging him, after all. And that's not Slytherin of me; that's just sneaky female of me...

"So...when did you fall for me the second time around, and why?"

"Right after it sunk in that you were telling me the truth, the day you said I could Polyjuice myself into a Goyle, smash myself on the head with a lump hammer, and I'd still be Severus Snape, to you. When you said you were still attracted to me, even though I was a surly bastard...and when you said you'd rather die than live in a world run by Voldemort, I knew I still loved you, and that I didn't want to lose you. I knew I'd be taken from you--I was supposed to be taken from you," he amended, his tone wry, "--but I didn't want you taken from me while I still lived."

Hermione pinched him, making him grunt. "Don't you ever leave me, you idiot. Spit in the eye of Death Himself and come back to me, if you have to. Alive, by preference," she added. "Sleeping with a ghost would be a bit too chilly for my tastes."

"Agreed. So long as you agree to the same."

"Agreed."

"So...you love me, and not just Russel? Even if I...even if I were to resume teaching, nasty personality and all?"

"Yes. However," Hermione stressed, "Voldiedork is now safely dead, the stray Death Eaters are being rounded up, and after your two-year sabbatical is over...if you go back to being a teacher, you don't have to be quite such a nasty bastard. Do you?"

"That was an excellent wifely scold," he mock-praised, then sighed. "I don't know. I can only try. The weight of nearly two decades of bad habits would be against me."

"I'd be happy to scold and encourage you in turns, if it'll help," Hermione offered, and felt his arms squeezing her briefly around the shoulders.

"Tell me why you agreed to bear my child."

Fair was fair. Touching her thumb to the ring, she let him study whatever Sigurd said. She knew what was the truth. "Because you wanted it, because it was an agreeable deal in exchange for the potion...and because I wanted your child. Both for the sake of our child, and for the sake of our future as a family. I wanted to give you something to look forward to, something to hope for. You'd led me to suspect you didn't think you'd live past the end of the war. I wanted to give you something worth living for."

His arms tightened again, and his head turned and dipped, brushing his lips against her curls. "You did...and I just surprised myself with the truth. I honestly expected them to kill me, or as good as kill me, either sucking out my soul, or throwing me into Azkaban and throwing away the key. I was still resigned to my fate, though." Another huff of amused breath, and he added, "I neglected to reckon with the power of your sheer, blind optimism, and staggeringly good luck."

A question rose in her mind, almost randomly. "Out of curiosity, Severus...how soon after I knew your true identity did Lord Voldemort know that I knew?"

"After our little baby-making bargain. I didn't dare go to him and tell him that you'd figured it out, beforehand. I waited in the fear that you'd denounce me to all of the others in the Order. I'd have gone back to him only to face some punishment worse than the last one. That's presuming I could have talked enough circles around him to make him believe I was still useful, that I could still salvage my relationship with you somehow."

"And our rings," Hermione reminded him, thinking of something else. "Was I still your student when you thought of using them as a sort of back-up plan, should you have a falling out with the Order?"

"Yes. But of course, if I'd had a falling out with the Order, it would have to be such a huge cock-up on my part, I'd no longer be a teacher, by the time I had to use the rings as my backup communication plan...as was the case," Severus reminded her.

"You did what you thought was right, and you did what you thought was best, given your circumstances," Hermione reminded him mildly. "Next question: what was your original Lesson Number Two, the one I pre-empted?"

An actual laugh escaped him, at that. "Your Lesson Number Two... I had it all planned out, after I knocked you unconscious and took care of your friends' possible worries. I'd tame you to my hand, you see, and then teach you to go after what you wanted...and I wanted you to want me. I wanted you to fall back in love with me, though I knew that learning my identity had ruined your first round of love. I'd shattered your heart...like you had shattered my own."

Twisting her head a little, Hermione pressed a kiss to his cotton-clad chest. Covering it with her cheek, she hugged him. "Forgiven. If you'll forgive me?"

"Forgiven," he agreed.

They rested in silence for a while, but Hermione couldn't help but think of more questions, as she lay with him in the quiet of his dungeon-level bedroom. "...Do you really think my first name is an ungainly mouthful?"

"Yes. I'm not particularly fond of Severus or Selenius, either, though calling me 'Russel' would just re-invoke the lie of my deception to you...and I will not deceive you anymore. Even in public."

"In public?" Hermione enquired, puzzled.

"You ordered me to tell you the truth when in private, and as Albus had arranged for the onus of the Fides Oath to transfer to you, once he died...I had no reasonable choice but to obey. My life didn't need to be ten times more hellish than it already was by that point, trust me."

"Is the Fides Oath still active?" Hermione asked, curious. "That's the reason why you asked me to tell you that you could lie when others were around, because you were compelled by my order to tell the truth in my presence...isn't it?"

"Yes, and yes."

She bit her lower lip for a moment. It was so tempting to keep it...but it wasn't the right thing to do. "How do I remove it?"

"It would require Albus' assistance, since he is the one who bound me into its magic, and that would have to be done before he dies. The Fides Oath is one of the few pieces of magic that lasts beyond the caster's lifetime. It is like the Fidelius Charm, in that the caster does not maintain the presence and effectiveness of the spell, but rather, the person it is cast upon."

"Ah. Well, Severus Snape, you have my permission to lie to me if necessary, once the Veritaserum wears off...but I would prefer to hear nothing but the truth from you, from now on."

"You mean that I should tell you anyway when your hair is being unruly that I think it looks like an exploded hawk's nest?"

She pinched him, for that. His body might have been relaxed from the potion overdose, but she could hear the deliberate humor underlying his question. "Behave. There's nothing wrong with being tactful, Severus Snape, and you can and should be as tactful as needed. Don't make me make it a Fides order."

"Thank you."

The slightly sarcastic edge to his reply made her smile. There were many other questions she wanted answered, why he called her a puzzle the first time they'd made love, why and when he had tried to cut the Dark Mark from his arm, and where and when he got his hands on the Lucrezia Diary... She suspected he'd stolen it either from Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange, most likely shortly after the Dark Lord's first fall and the insane woman's imprisonment in Azkaban. There would have been time and freedom for him to have done it then.

And of course, the infamous romance-novel reading he must have done, whether it was a one-shot meant to help him figure out how to seduce her, or if he was a closet romance reader; Hermione knew he wouldn't admit to the latter one easily, if it were true...

But what she asked instead was a different question. "Severus...when we confronted Minerva in her office, just before she learned your identity, I called Albus a bastard, and you...well, you pounced on me, and ravished me. That was a rather odd reaction to have, wasn't it?"

"You clearly agreed with me that Albus was a manipulative bastard. I loved you very much, in that moment, and I needed to express my love for you." He gave her a moment to grasp that, and twisted to face her, pressing up against her. His upper hand slid down her waist, shifting to cover the curve of her expanding waistline. Mouth pressing against her temple in a warm, lingering kiss, he murmured, "You are my wife, the mother of my impending son, and I will love you whenever and wherever I please."

Hermione covered his hand with her own. "Then that leaves us with only one last important question."

"Mm?" He didn't bother to vocalize his question, just kept pressing his lips in an incremental path across her forehead.

"What happens now?" she asked him quietly, closing her eyes. She didn't even know what she was going to do with herself, aside from bear his child, figure out what sort of finances their former Headmaster was bequeathing to them, and calculate how much of an income they had to make to support their small but growing family.

"Now? I make love to my wife, and my wife makes love to me."

"No, I meant after," Hermione chided him impatiently, rolling her eyes behind their closed lids. "Shagging you to within an inch of my life is a given. I meant...what are we going to do with ourselves? You're a free man. Everyone knows what you have done. What you've suffered. They have, or soon will, forgive you for what happened...and you'll probably be almost as famous as your lightning-scarred brother-in-law, for all that you've sacrificed."

"Oh, god--say it isn't so!" he swore, abandoning her forehead. Glancing up at him, she caught his nose wrinkling in disgust. A lift of her head, a shift forward, and she kissed the tip of it. That distracted him out of his horror.

"Sorry, Severus. There were four people pivotal to this war. Voldiebutt, Harry, Albus, and you. You're a hero, and now everyone knows. I'm afraid you're stuck with the job," she reminded him with less than perfect sympathy. "I suggest you learn to live with it."

"And you," he reminded her. "There was also you, pivotal to all of this."

That made Hermione shake her head. "I wasn't nearly as important as you, Severus."

He rolled her onto her back and slid over her, pinning her wrists to the bed. Sigurd vanished in a swirl of sparks, making room for his master. With that curtain of dark hair falling around them, released from its queue, Severus reminded her of that forceful December morning when she'd uncovered his identity. Her heart skipped a beat, but in excitement, not fear. She didn't fear him anymore, and that realization made Hermione light-headed. She feared accidentally hurting him somehow, but she didn't fear her husband. She loved him.

"If I say you are important, my dear Jane," he growled softly, pointedly, "then you are important. More so than my life...and I will be heartily glad when this damned Serum has worked its way out of my veins, so I can stop sounding like some brainless, love-struck, sappy little twit!"

Hermione smirked at him, She also lifted her hips, rubbing their groins together. "Well, you're certainly not little."

His eyes darkened with desire, and his mouth captured hers, closing the last few inches separating them. But as pleasurable as this was, Hermione wanted something different. She wanted to kiss her husband, yes, but she wanted to be in control. Freeing one of her hands from his grip, she tapped him on the shoulder for his attention even as she sucked on the tongue thrusting into her mouth. It took a few thumps, but he finally lifted his head.

"...What?"

"My play time, not yours," Hermione purred, and managed to push the surprised wizard off of her and onto his back. Rolling over him, she braced herself with one knee between his thighs, closed her eyes, and concentrated hard. Wandlessly willing their nightshirts to Apparate three feet to the left. A soft bang, and she felt nothing but warm, male flesh against her skin. Opening her eyes, Hermione grinned. "That's better."

Swooping down, she met his lips with her own, as they parted for speech. A brushing of their mouths was followed by a firmer press, a perfect angling, and the meeting and parrying of their tongues. She loved kissing him. Sometimes they hurried through it, interested in other things, but whenever she wanted to go slow, he was usually willing to comply.

Sometimes it was even a tease, an appetizer, a preview of what might come with the main course. This time was no exception. Ignoring the hands stroking over her shoulders and ribs, the way how his palms held and cupped her breasts, Hermione thoroughly snogged him. No matter how optimistic she had been, how much she had prayed, she knew today's trial could have gone southward. Badly southward, and quite possibly so for both of them. But it hadn't. The truth, cliched though it was to say it this way, had set him free.

Leaving his lips behind while he kneaded her nipples, Hermione explored the contour of his jaw. She could feel hints of stubble, though he had probably spell-shaved himself right before attending the trial. A kitten-lick to that little hollow below his bottom lip, between it and his chin, made him twist his head, trying to recapture her for a kiss. Hermione briefly allowed it, but returned her quest, following the line of bone from his chin to his ear, before ghosting back again over the angle of his cheek.

One of his hands abandoned her breast, fisting instead in her hair. This time, their mouths met with open, impatient heat. Hermione rubbed against him, letting the softness of her breasts and the curve of her stomach brush over his chest and abdomen. The soft moan of appreciation that escaped them ended their kiss on a gentler note than it had begun. Opening his eyes, Severus looked up at her as she saluted the tip of his nose.

"My wife..."

"My husband," she acknowledged, and kissed him again. This time, when she left his mouth, he accepted her detours passively, in the sense that he didn't draw her back to his lips. There wasn't much that was passive about him as he moaned softly and arched his sternum into her explorations, save for what the drug in his system continued to impose. His hands stroked her shoulders languidly, but approvingly.

In reward, she nuzzled the tiny pebble of his nipple, and the soft, sparse ring of hairs guarding it. The gasp she elicited when she licked in a broad, firm stroke made Hermione want to smirk. It was hard to do so while lapping him like a cat trying to get the last bit of shredded cheese out of a bowl, though. And he was like cheese to a cat, to her. Sarcastic or sweet, he was hers. Which, of course, deserves a reward...

Flicking his other nipple, she teased it for a little while, then licked her way down over the curves of his ribs and the passion-taut expanse of his stomach. His erection bumped against her breasts as she settled between his thighs, but it wasn't her goal. Yet. Instead, she teased and tormented the divot of his navel, rimming it with her tongue, nipping its edges with her lips, suckling its depths. All the while, his rigid shaft rubbed awkwardly against her shoulder and throat, leaving little trails of dampness where the tip of him brushed her skin.

A ragged, impatient groan tore itself from his throat. Hands fisting in her hair, Severus pushed her head lower. "Oh, for god's sake! Stop trying to kill me, woman, and put me out of my misery!"

The contradiction in his complaint and demand made her choke on a laugh. Grinning, she nuzzled his manhood with her nose, then brushed it with her lips. He groaned impatiently, so she gave it a long, slow lick, then another, and another...until it was wet enough, she sucked his erection into her mouth. It was his turn to choke, though not from laughter.

The taste of him, warm and salty and musky, made her mouth moist with saliva; the feel of him, warm and hard yet velvety soft, encouraged her to grasp him at the base as his hips flexed with helpless need. His words brushed over her, drenched in an honesty that was as much equal pleasure as Veritaserum. "Oh god, yes... Merlin...sweet, sweet woman--Jane! Oh, god!"

Hermione suspected he was going to be incredibly vocal, thanks to the Truth Serum. The sound of his voice was turning her on, too. Not that she wasn't already aroused, by any means...but each deep-chested groan as she suckled up and down, swirling with her tongue, made her hotter than before. He might look a lot closer in appearance to Vulcan, the dark-haired, scarred God of the Forge...but he had the voice of Eros, God of Love and Passion.

Hungry for him, needing to be filled by him, she abandoned his groin, releasing it from hand and mouth. He whimpered and tried to push her back down to his erection. Brushing his hands out of her hair, Hermione straddled his hips, grasped his shaft, and positioned him in the right place. Slowly, she sank onto him, impaling herself. His hands clutched and caressed her hips.

"Oh god, yes...ride me, use me, love me!"

"Severus--ah!" Ambushed by her orgasm, Hermione shuddered, letting her head drop back. His hands slipped around the tops of her thighs, until his thumbs were free to press against her nether-lips, massaging the secrets they hid. It prolonged her pleasure and encouraged her to flex her thighs and ride him.

Circling her hips with each down-stroke, tracing a figure-eight, made him whimper again. Brow furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and panting...he looked delicious. Like he was being tortured by the imprisonment of her body. Panting, Hermione increased her speed, then changed her rhythm. As she sank down, she paused and squeezed, clenching her inner muscles. Once, twice...the third stroke-and-squeeze broke him. His hands grabbed her hips to pull her down into the fast, hard flexing of his own.

"Oh--fuck! Jane, Jane, Jane! God, I love you! Oh, god--goddess! Goddess! Goddess! Love! Ah, love, Jane, love!"

Shuddering again in pleasure, triggered and fed by his own, Hermione slumped onto his chest, panting and sweating. His arms wrapped around her, holding her in place and soothing any worries she might have had about being too heavy. It wasn't easy for her to cling back, though she tried, snuggling her cheek against his throat.

A stray thought crossed her mind, making her giggle. Severus grunted, a sound of enquiry. Grinning, she explained, "You said, 'Love, Jane, love!' ...and I was just thinking, 'Tell me how you really feel!'"

"Baggage," he growled, and nipped at her ear.

That reminded Hermione of something. Hiding the urge to smirk against his jaw-line, she asked, "So...just how hot and bothered does it make you, when I nibble on your ear?"

He groaned and rolled them over, settling her on her back and bracing himself over her so that he didn't put too much pressure on her abdomen. Between kisses that started at her throat and ended at her navel, her husband explained, "As hot...as a cauldron...about to explode... I need to taste you, wet with your desire, dripping with my seed, carrying my child...mother of my future son...bride of my heart, joy of my life...please, tell me I am not sounding like a complete and utter fool?"

Considering her words carefully, Hermione replied as he gently parted her thighs, "If it is considered foolish to make me, your wife, melt into a puddle of lust, and feeling utterly loved...then I wish you would be a fool every day for the rest of our lives." A pause on both their parts, hers for emphasis, his before delving into her exposed folds, and she added, "...Twice on Sundays would be nice, come to think of it."

A chuckle escaped him. "I don't think I have that much stamina for compliments when I'm not drunk on Veritaserum...but I would like to try, now and again. Mmmh, goddess, you smell divine..."

With the first lap of his tongue, and pausing only for an accompanying, hungry moan, conversation fell by the wayside.

...

The knock on the door roused and confused Hermione. The room was Severus' bedchamber in the dungeons of the school, yet someone had knocked on his bedroom door. House-elves wouldn't knock...would they?

Sliding out of their bed, Severus scooped his nightshirt from the floor and pulled it over his head as he padded to the door. Making sure the covers were pulled high enough for decency, Hermione watched as he aimed his wand with his right hand and touched the knob with the left. His precaution was perhaps leftover paranoia...but when the door was opened, revealing a gaunt, familiar, silver-bearded wizard in purple robes being supported by a sorrowful-eyed Poppy, it was more of a shock than a politely knocking house-elf would have been.

They'd stayed more or less in bed for the last fifteen hours, sleeping, eating from trays ordered from the school kitchens, making love, and trying to figure out what to do with their lives, now that the war was over and both of them were free to do as they pleased...if they could only figure it out. It was now morning on the fourth day after the end of the war. From the look of him, with dark circles bagging under his eyes, a sickly yellow-grey cast to his skin, and a tremor visible in his limbs, it was quite possibly the last day of Albus Dumbledore's life.

"...I came to have a word with you, my boy," he stated without preamble. Without much strength in his voice, either. It wavered noticeably as he continued politely. "I don't mean to intrude like this, but I'd like to talk with you about a few, final things before I take my leave of everyone--I'll just wait for you out here," Albus added, gesturing with a shaking hand in the direction of the sitting room hearth. "Hermione is welcome to join us, if she desires."

Turning from the door, he allowed the school nurse to assist him out of Hermione's line of sight. Severus shut the door, raking his hand through his locks. The drug in his system had eased some of its grip in the last several hours, or perhaps he was just compensating better for the laxity it imposed on his muscles...but he still managed to look unhappy at the prospect of facing his former employer and eldest friend.

Hermione shrugged off the covers, rising and dressing in silence as her husband did the same. Whatever the former Headmaster had to discuss, she wanted to be at Severus' side, giving him her silent support throughout. From the way he pulled her into a kiss as soon as she had buttoned her blouse, she suspected he knew. And by the way he kept hold of her hand as he opened the door again and led them out into the other room, she suspected he also appreciated it.

Poppy had seated Albus in a chair by the hearth, and had enchanted a good-sized blaze in the fireplace, letting it radiate its heat on the ailing wizard. She stood behind his chair by a little ways, close enough to lend assistance if he needed it, yet far enough away to give something of an illusion of privacy. Hermione wasn't surprised to see that the school nurse had access to Severus' quarters; it made sense for her to be able to go anywhere in the school...and she'd known of Severus' relative innocence all along, anyway.

Allowing Severus to settle both of them on the settee across from their former Headmaster, Hermione spoke first. She avoided the question with only a negative answer, the one if there was something, anything that could be done to stop his deterioration. Instead, she asked a different one. "Have you, erm, had a trial, yet?"

"Yes; that was yesterday. After reviewing all that I had done," Albus confessed, seeming a little stronger now that he was settled into Severus' armchair, "and my willingness to pay for those deeds and directives with my life...and the outcome of all my and my agents' activities...the Wizengamot has seen fit to absolve me of all legal responsibility." He smiled a weary but benign smile, his blue eyes glimmering with a hint of their usual twinkle. "It seems someone wisely pointed out to them that you do not call a soldier a murderer after he marches off to defend his home. Which I have done.

"Severus..." His gaze fell on the man tucked beside Hermione. Some of his good humor faded. "Severus, I am truly sorry for all that my machinations against Riddle put you through. When I saw the two of you interacting, after Hermione came to grips with your identity...I confess I hoped that you had found a source of reward for all of your suffering. And after hearing her spirited defence of you, yesterday...are you happy, Severus? You deserve to be, you know."

Long, lightly callused fingers tightened around her own. Glancing at her husband, Hermione watched his mouth tighten for a moment. Releasing a sigh, Severus answered truthfully. It wasn't as if he had a choice, after all. "Yes, I am. And I will continue to be happy...once I have mourned for you. I don't want you to leave me again."

The look the former Headmaster gave his equally formal employee was a chiding one. Even his voice, quavering until now, sharpened a little in rebuke. "How many times have I told you, Severus, that death is but the next logical step in an old man's life? We live, we learn, we love, we grow old, and we die. Once we are dead, we move on to the next great adventure, whatever that may be.

"But, if you wish to keep a part of me around...name one of your children Brian, after me?" Albus asked both of them. "I never did like my other names as much as that one, but Mother insisted that it just wasn't wizardly enough to replace my first name."

Hermione smiled at him, though it was somewhat tremulous with the thought of losing the affable old wizard again. He'd always seemed to be a bit like her Muggle world's legends of Merlin, to her. His own unique man, once she came to know him better...but Hermione thought Merlin would've approved of Albus Dumbledore. "If not the first name for our son, then it'll be his second one, I promise."

Albus' brows rose at that. "...A son? Good heavens, Severus! Why didn't you tell me that earlier, when we were chatting in our little clandestine wizard-to-painting meetings?"

"--I advised them to keep silent," Poppy Pomfrey offered from her place behind his chair. "There was still a war on, you know...and having figured out that 'Russel' was Severus, based on his interest in Albus' portrait, I knew there might be those who would go after his child, if Severus' identity became known. Especially a son. There's a few Dark Spells out there involving unborn, first-born sons, you know."

Hermione used her free hand to cover her abdomen. She didn't even want to think about anything harming their child. "As it was, I was getting to the point where it was harder and harder to conceal my condition, so I had to agree with her."

"Ah. Well...then the only thing left to discuss is the disposition of my remaining assets," Albus agreed. "I know it's not going to entirely make up for all that you've suffered, Severus, but you've always been like a son to me, and I refuse to take 'no' for an answer. Poppy, the scroll?"

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward, offering a rolled parchment to Severus. Lifting a skeptical brow, Severus untied the ribbons holding it closed, and opened the paper. And then frowned, unrolling it some more...and finally just let the bottom spindle drop from his hands...where it promptly rolled down his lap, leapt off his knee, and bounced across the floor. Almost to Albus' purple-clad feet, in fact.

Hermione's eyes widened. "What is this?"

"A listing of all my stocks and rental properties, plus some private lands I picked up through the years. You'll find everything in order, of course," Albus smiled benignly.

"All of this is yours?" Severus asked skeptically, equally taken aback.

"Actually, the majority belonged to my old partner, Nicholas Flamel," Albus confessed. "But it's now going to be yours, and I know he'd be proud to see you rewarded for your long suffering. I want you to enjoy it, Severus, Hermione. Now, I have more visits to make, while I have the strength to make them... I should last through the evening, so I hope to see the two of you at Headquarters, tonight--that's an order, Severus," he added. "I will lift the Fides Oath at that time. Seven o'clock, and please do not be late. Poppy says I have until ten, for certain; after that, it's up to the heavens as to when I go."

The younger witch and wizard stared, taken aback at the long list of assets, while Poppy assisted Albus out of the chair and through the door.

...

The former House of Black had a strange air about it, when Hermione and Severus arrived by Floo. Partly a lingering revel over their victory in the war, and partly a living wake for the former Headmaster, everyone had eyes that glittered with a mixture of relief and grief. And there was definite tension in the bodies of those who saw Severus...but no open hostility.

After a bit of pleading and bullying on her part, Hermione had managed to coax her husband into wearing a sort of compromise outfit: his black-and-grey kilt, and his sapphire blue shirt. The shirt went even better with his black-and-pale colouring than it had with the blond-and-tan version of himself. It invoked memories of Russel, without denying that he was still very much Severus. And, in a show of solidarity, Hermione had Transfigured herself a matching calf-length skirt and blouse. The his-and-her outfits had made him wrinkle his nose briefly, but he said nothing against it.

The first persons to approach Severus and clasp his hand were the twins. George and Fred even gave him respectful nods, and murmurs of appreciation for what he had done. The next was a wan-looking Remus Lupin, who muttered something in Severus' ear that made him first blush, then mutter, "...Forgiven." But what it was about, Severus didn't say, and Hermione carefully didn't pry. And when the former teacher allowed Arthur Weasley to shake his hand, he found himself pulled into a hard, back-slapping embrace that widened his eyes in alarm and made Hermione hastily bite her lip against the urge to laugh.

But it was the confrontation between Severus and Harry that had her heart leaping into her throat. It happened in the hallway, on the way to the parlour to say one last goodbye to the wizard who had watched over them all. Harry stopped them in front of the door to the library, his jaw tense and his shoulders set.

"I would like a word with you," he stated stiffly, gesturing at the open door beside him. "Please...sir."

If Hermione hadn't seen Ron inside the room, his expression anxious but encouraging, she might've been worried about her blood-brother's terse and not exactly friendly tone. Nudging her husband into the room, she let Harry close the door behind them, giving them a modicum of privacy. Elsewhere, the clink of glasses and an occasional burst of laughter could be heard, but the library itself was quiet at the moment.

"What did you want, P...Harry," Severus corrected himself carefully, audibly striving to not snark at the younger wizard.

"I..." For a moment, Harry seemed at a loss. He ran his hand through his hair as Ron joined him, and let out a sigh when Ron nudged him in the shoulder. "Look, S...Severus... There's a lot of, erm, bad blood between us. But we're stuck with each other, and I don't want to put Hermione in the middle of our fights. And...I owe you my life, and I was too angry to admit that, earlier, and I'm sorry for the trouble I caused."

Hermione's hands were curled so tight where they hung at her sides, she was surprised blood wasn't dripping from where her nails bit into her palms. She waited breathlessly for her beloved's reply. Relief coursed through her when he dipped his dark-haired head.

"As am I. You aren't your father. I was...an arse," Severus managed to say with some semblance of stiff dignity, though little pride at that moment. "And I apologize for it."

Harry held out his hand in peace-offering, and Severus grasped it. Ron did, too; when his ex-teacher clasped palms, the redhead tightened his grip a little. "...Forgiven and forgotten, sir...erm, Severus. But if you ever do anything she doesn't like, I'm still going to sic my whole family on you."

"I'll try to remember to leave something for them to torment," Hermione retorted dryly. "If he ever does something I really don't like."

The two younger wizards laughed. Severus rolled his eyes in a pained look. Happy, Hermione kissed him on the cheek in reward for holding his tongue.

"Hey--none of that!" Ron ordered the two of them, paling a little at the thought. "It's bad enough to know there's a new Snape on the way. I don't need to see any of how it got started!"

"...And that's my cue to leave," Harry muttered, looking a little green himself at the idea.

Both young men left the parlour. They were replaced by Alastor Moody, who stepped inside with a wry smile. "There you are, Severus. I was hoping to catch you for a word or two about that disguise-amulet you wore. The same one that Mrs. Malfoy wore. You both managed to dupe me with that, and I want to know if there's any counter to its identity-changing properties."

"I'll leave you two to talk," Hermione offered, patting her husband on the arm. Stepping outside, she headed for the parlour. To her surprise, Priscilla Philliston stepped out of the parlour just as she reached the door. "Madam Philliston!"

"Mrs. Snape," the head of the Wizengamot acknowledged. "I wanted to talk to you about Draco Malfoy. Since you seemed to know where he might be, that is. I'd like to arrange a trial for him. Erm...no Wizard's Oaths, mind you, but...if you can just promise that he'll show up on time, and is willing to take Veritaserum without an antidote, I'll make sure he gets a fair trial."

Hermione smiled. "I think I can manage that. And thank you for doing your best to keep your word."

"Yes, well, I finally had the opportunity to make the Ministry responsible for its actions--oh, and that reminds me. Stanley Shunpike has been released and awarded five years' worth of wages, in recompense for his rights being ignored and violated," Philliston added. "That was poorly done of us. I'm glad I could set things right." The grey-haired witch flashed a smile. "Once I got Rufus out of the way, that is."

"I'm glad you could, too. I'll tell Harry; he'll be happy to hear the good news. Thank you." Shaking hands with the older witch, Hermione ducked into the parlour, where Kingsley was telling a funny story of his adventures while working for the Muggle Minister.

Severus slipped into the room at some point. Hermione became aware of his presence when he slid his arm around her as she listened to Minerva making Albus laugh with a tale of Hogwarts from several years before. And then, at some point while Tonks was relating one of her silly accidents from during her Auror training...Albus Dumbledore passed away. As she brought her tale to a close, the Metamorphmagus looked over at her former schoolmaster with a grin...and they all realized he had slumped into the corner of his armchair with his eyes closed, his skin grey and waxy, but with a smile still curving his bearded mouth. The sight sobered them, but that smile kept away the worst of their grief.

Hopping off the arm of the chair she was perched on, the pink-haired Auror touched his throat with her fingertips, then sighed. "Wotcher... He's gone off ahead of us, he has. Goodbye, Albus," Tonks stated, kissing the wrinkled brow. "See you later, eh?"

It was, Hermione decided as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks, the best possible way for anyone to die, really: surrounded by the laughter of one's friends.