Chapter Twelve

He managed to Apparate them to the cottage, but only just. His wrist and shoulder tingled, which was a sure sign of a near-Splinch. He checked Hermione carefully, but she was also unharmed from the journey.

Looking around at the country lane Severus had chosen as their Apparition point, Hermione frowned in puzzlement. "I thought you lived in London," she said, shivering in the cool air.

"I have a flat in London...a generous gift of the Dark Lord's. This is my home."

He reached into his robes and produced the bit of parchment. It seemed fitting that the first person to read it would be Hermione. She took the parchment without question and read it out loud. "'Severus Snape lives at Ivy House, Bunnybeg, Ireland.'"

The air around them shimmered, revealing a lovely stone cottage surrounded by a picket fence. A thatched roof and chimney gave it a fairy-tale look, and as if to enhance this, the door swung invitingly open. Hermione squeaked in surprise as Severus swept her up in his arms and proceeded to carry her across the threshold.

"Severus..."

"Welcome to Ivy House," he said, shortly, carrying her easily through the door into the cottage. "You're my first guest."

He pushed open the bathroom door, then kicked it closed behind him. She was shivering now, and he frowned worriedly as he glanced down at her white, strained face. Groggily, she looked up at him with tired eyes.

"I've got to get you warm," he said, his tone brusque with anxiety.

"But the Trace..."

"...is no longer a concern. I removed it before we left London." He looked down at her and tried to smile. "You're safe now. No one's going to harm you."

She nodded and closed her eyes with a sigh of exhaustion. He carried her to the large bath suite, and several spells later, the large bathtub he'd yet to use was filling with hot water and a healing potion that filled the room with a faintly medicinal scent. By then, the combination aftershocks of cold and trauma had Hermione shivering so uncontrollably her teeth chattered. Severus pressed her close, trying to infuse her with his own diminished warmth.

"I need to get you out of these wet clothes and into the bath, Hermione," he said. She nodded, obediently trying to unbutton her blouse with trembling fingers. "Don't bother with that. I'll take care of it."

A quick spell removed the sodden clothes, but the abupt loss of the only insulation between her skin and air made her cry out, and her muscles locked painfully.

"S-S-Severus," she stuttered, her eyes full of pain and humiliation. He gently deposited her into the steaming water, and she sank into the warmth, a moan of blissful relief escaping her lips.

"I'll be right back," he announced, and left the warm bathroom to root through his potions cupboard. When he'd chosen four small bottles, and gulped down a couple more, he lit a fire in the grate, cast the widest Warming Charm possible, then dashed back to the heated sanctuary.

Hermione was lying as still as the water around her; Severus knelt beside the tub and thumbed open the first three bottles. Gently sliding his arm beneath her head, he lifted her upright. "Drink these," he commanded softly. "You've had a physical shock, not to mention swallowed some of the most polluted water on earth."

Obediently she took each potion in turn. As she swallowed the last, Severus eased her back against the lip of the tub and stood. After a moment's hesitation, he shed his own wet garments. Hermione watched him solemnly, and when he was done she leaned forward. Severus sank into the lovely warm water behind her, then pulled her back against his chest. With a sigh, Hermione relaxed against him, and Severus' heart beat hard and fast as he gently cradled the witch in his arms.

Gradually her frozen limbs grew warm and stopped spasming. Her skin grew rosy as the warmth stole into her body. He conjured a flannel and opened the last of the four bottles, anointing her shoulders with a pale blue liquid that drizzled over her skin like honey. For several minutes he concentrated his attentions solely on making her comfortable and cleaning the river from her body and hair. As the flannel glided over her flesh, she turned in his arms until she was lying sideways against him. He put his arm around her, and sluiced water over her, rinsing the soap away.

She shuddered against his chest, and he realised she was crying. "That's good," he said, stroking her back comfortingly. "It's alright, my brave little Gryffindor." He pressed a kiss against her tangled hair. "My brave, mad girl."

"Severus, what do we do now?" she whispered against his chest.

He considered for a moment. "First we get you warm, and then we plan."

She rubbed her cheek against him and he pulled her as close as humanly possible. He could feel her tremble. "The Lestranges said they were going to take me back to Azkaban."

Severus smiled grimly, grateful she could not see his face. "Well, we saw how well that worked out for them, didn't we?"

She shuddered. "I kept thinking, 'I can't go back there. I'd rather be d...'"

"Shh," he soothed, unable to hear her say it. "You don't have to worry about that now. Don't even think that way." When she didn't reply, he stroked her cheek. "I couldn't bear the thought of it, Hermione," he declared softly. "Please promise me you won't go anywhere without me."

She reached for his hand and entwined it with hers. She studied it for a moment, then kissed it softly. "I promise." She looked up at him, and his heart swelled at the look in her eyes. It was the same look of admiration and affection he remembered from their first night together. She kissed his cheek almost shyly. "Thank you for saving my life, Severus."

For several moments, they lay in the hot water together, his arm around her, her hand curled within his. Finally, she shifted. "It was you, wasn't it?" she whispered very close to his ear, as if afraid of being overheard. "You arranged for Remus and Tonks to escape. I found the Order's mailbox with the letter you wrote him."

That surprised him; he had thought the box long destroyed. "Yes, it was me. I arranged for them to launch from a fairly remote location here in Ireland. Unfortunately, a ranger saw a little more than he should have. I had to follow his owl and alter his report at the Ministry. It was a matter of a change here and there."

Hermione raised her head from his shoulder and favoured him with one of her heart-stopping smiles. "I guessed that. It was brilliant."

He ducked his head. "It was a desperate act. I don't even know if either family survived."

Hermione looked at him sharply. "'Either family'? It wasn't just Remus' family?"

Severus shook his head. "It-they..." For some stupid reason, he was near tears. "Bill Weasley and his wife and daughter escaped as well."

He was engulfed in a thrashing, splashing tangle of wet arms and legs and knees dangerously close to his bits as Hermione straddled him and covered his face with tear-stained kisses. "You did it! You amazing wizard! You did it! Oh, Severus..." He was too happy to do more than merely hold on as she hugged him tighter and told him how brave and clever and wonderful he was.

As she squeezed most of the air from his lungs, he rasped, "Hermione, I must remind you that I don't know if they even survived or not." He hated killing the entire mood, but he couldn't stop himself.

"You gave them a chance. That was more than they had," replied Hermione, and kissed his damp cheek. The joy in her eyes made him feel more validated than anything he'd ever done, and her praise was a balm to a spirit that had been little more than dormant since the day their world crumbled around him. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "But you should have gone with them; you should have saved yourself, and protected them along the way..."

He took her head in his hands, his tears threatening once again. "I couldn't leave, Hermione. You and Arthur... Longbottom ...you were still in Azkaban. And Ronald, too..." He gripped her arms tightly. "How could I leave you? Even if you never wanted to see my face again, how could I leave if there was one chance in this hell we live in to see you safe and not abused, and..." His voice choked and he looked away.

Hermione grew very quiet, and even though she hadn't moved, he sensed her pulling away from him. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry, Severus."

Puzzled, Severus asked, "Whatever for? You have no need to apologise."

Her lip trembled, and she lowered her head. "I said so many awful things to you at the Ministry. I'm sorry I blamed you for Ron's death. You were right about everything. I should have rescinded the Vow. And I lied to you," she said, weeping openly. "I never slept with Malfoy. He would sometimes tell me it was his right to take what he wanted, but...we never..."

"I understand," he replied, gently massaging her shoulders, "We have both said things we regret." He clenched his jaw, remembering. Shame filled his chest until it crowded out his ability to breathe. "Ah, gods, witch. That last night, in that miserable little hotel, before the end of the war. I said so many unforgivable things. I meant none of them. I should have just told you the truth, that I was too tired and too afraid to think about what I was doing. Instead I lashed out and said things I deserve no forgiveness for. I was a fool to say them, and an even bigger fool to leave you. I should have kept you with me." He closed his eyes. "I should have sewn you up under my skin before I let you go."

He fell silent. The only sound was Hermione's soft sobs. Feeling helpless, Severus simply held her while she spent her emotions.

"I lost our baby, Severus." Her whisper was almost too soft to be heard.

He pressed a hard, searing kiss against her forehead. "No, you didn't," he said fervently, his heart tearing open. "You did everything you could to protect it. You must forgive yourself, Hermione." He hesitated, and in spite of his resolve, his own tears fell. "You must forgive me as well. I don't think I could bear it if you don't. I know I don't deserve it, but..."

"Shh," she answered, and he allowed her to comfort him as he cried, hating his soft heart, but blessing hers for forgiving him. With the slightest of hesitations, as if afraid of his rejection, Hermione took his hands in hers. Her eyes were solemn, but full of beautiful, silvery hope. "I never stopped loving you," she confessed. "I told myself I did, and I tried, because I didn't know any better." Tears streamed from her lovely eyes. "But I still love you, and I believe in you."

He was holding her too tightly; the poor girl could barely breathe, but he couldn't let go. A dark sound tore into the room, and he knew it was his own wail of relief and sorrow. And then he was raining kisses over her face, babbling over and over, "I love you, I do, I never stopped, I love you, Hermione, I love you, please forgive me..."

"Of course I forgive you," she said, returning his flurry of kisses, and threw her arms around him, splashing water over the floor. "Oh, gods, Severus, you are..."

"My beautiful girl, my brave girl... my brave girl..."

Gradually they calmed, and their kisses grew less frantic until they became soft, gentle affirmations of what little remained unspoken. Severus touched his mouth to hers once more, and their lips moved together as if horrible words had never been pushed into the air by them. They forgot the past and thought of only this sweet joining, and soon they were as familiar with one another as the first time they had touched.

She stroked his arm absently, then reached up to caress his cheek. He trapped her palm between his shoulder and cheek, and pressed his lips against it. He felt her breathing hitch; in that moment his body heated of its own accord, and the water suddenly felt too hot. His desire bloomed, and with it came the hunger for her that he remembered so clearly. His erection followed, and he didn't even bother to try and hide it. Hermione pressed against it in an unmistakable invitation, and Severus grew lightheaded with need.

"We'll end up like two prunes in here," she whispered huskily, then slid her arms around his neck, rocked gently against his hips. "I've missed you," she murmured, her breath warm and soft against the ragged scar at his throat. Her tiny palm stroked his chest as she pressed a tender kiss against his jaw. "I never stopped wanting you, either."

"Hermione," he groaned. His hands slid over her back, and he shivered at the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. "Have a little pity on me, witch. I'm just a man, and you're making me all too painfully aware of how much I want you."

He could feel her smile against his skin. "I know. I'm very aware."

Silently, she leaned away from him and grasped the sides of the tub. Like Venus rising from the waves, she rose to her feet, water sliding from her heat-flushed body. He could see the small nest of curls between her thighs, painted with water droplets, and so close his mouth began to water...

Hermione's knees felt weak as she slowly stepped out of the tub. She reached down to place a gentle but firm hand against his chest. "It's my turn," she murmured, and reached for the flannel and the vial of potion.

She drizzled its contents over his chest, delighting in the scent of mint and lemon. He watched her with heavy, glowing dark eyes as she slowly moved the flannel over his shoulders, his chest, his taut abdomen. His eyes slid closed as she caressed him lovingly, her hands gliding over his warm, smooth skin. The cloth slid over his Dark Mark, and he watched her careful avoidance of it with approval. He was glad. He didn't want her to touch it; be defiled by it.

He relaxed, and lay back against the tub, and he laughed softly. Impulsively, she put her arm around his shoulders and touched her lips to his forehead. He sighed, and nuzzled into the crook of her neck with staggering sensuality. His voice was dark and honeyed as he murmured, "Gods, I love the way you touch me. I always have."

Hermione placed a tender kiss against his parted lips as her hand drifted lower, past his navel. He watched the journey of her fingers as they lightly teased his taut flesh, and with a glance upward, he parted his thighs for her with a sound that was almost pleading. Her breath caught as her hand closed around an erection already hard and needy and waiting for her. His muscles locked, as if an electric shock had charged the water. "Please, Hermione," he moaned against her throat, his lips warm against her skin. "Please touch me there. Please."

Hermione held him as she stroked him, her own arousal hungry and powerful. His hand rose from the water, and long, wet fingers enclosed possessively around her nipple, gently tugging the ruched flesh. He thrust against her hand, his eyes closed, and Hermione's heart began to pound as his expression lost its severe look and softened with abandon.

She stroked him harder, and the concentration in his face transformed into vulnerable, erotic bliss. Severus Snape, lost in his passion, was the most beautiful sight she had ever beheld; she had never tired of watching him lose control. She remembered those wild, stolen nights, when she would gaze eagerly into his face as he took her, feeling her own ecstasy burst from her at his release. It was the most intoxicating and primal kind of magic, knowing that she, Hermione Granger, had put that look of utter abandon on the face of a controlled, repressed, powerful wizard like him, and made him beg for the privilege.

He was close to climaxing, she could tell. Beneath the water, her hand slid along his length, stroking hard the way he liked it, the way he had taught her, the way she had touched him in countless dark dreams that both awed and tormented her. His hips answered her hand in counterpoint by thrusting into her grip, his cock hard and slick and straining, as if a coil within him was winding to an unbearable point, holding him suspended in agonised pleasure.

"Yes," she moaned, completely and utterly entranced by his ecstasy, fucking him with her fist. "That's it, Severus. I need to see you come..."

"Hermione," he gasped, his voice sweet and boyish and beautiful, her name both a question and a plea. His head fell back and his pale skin bloomed with heat and colour...

And he came, oh, gods, he came. The coil within him blasted apart in her hands, and he pressed his face against her neck and howled his climax into the room, his body tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing as her name was scored from his throat like the most perfect spell. "So good... always so good," he moaned, as the uncoiling left him innocently loose and spent against her body. She could feel his harsh, helpless breathing hot against her skin, and she stroked him with increasingly gentle hands as he shuddered. His fingers released their grip on her breast, and he stroked it soothingly, an apology.

It was several moments before he could think coherently enough to realise she was probably cold, draped over the edge of the tub, holding him so lovingly. But he was so comfortable, lying against her shoulder, while she petted and fondled him and pressed kisses against his sweaty temple. Gradually, his head cleared from the glorious orgasm, and he wasn't sure if he should feel embarrassed for artlessly coming in the bath, or just Evanesco the water and try to locate all the bones she'd stolen from his body after jerking him off.

He sighed, at an utter loss for what to say. Finally, he settled on, "Well, that was a first for me."

He heard her laugh. "That makes two of us. You've been a lot of firsts for me, Severus." She stood, and faced him, mother-naked and beautiful. He saw some scars he didn't remember, and her nipples were larger and darker. His eyes riveted onto the tiny triangle of curls between her thighs, and he drank in the sight of her greedily. "Merlin, witch, I want you," he breathed, reaching for her.

Wordlessly, she held out her hands. "I think you'd better take me to bed, Severus."

She helped him out of the tub, and he meticulously dried her with the large, thick towels he'd bought for the cottage but never used. She delightedly returned the favour, making the simple act of drying their bodies a most delicious form of foreplay. They were silent as he took her hand and lead her from the bath toward his bedroom.

This room, so different from the black-on-black sterile bedroom of his London flat, was comfortable and inviting. As he walked toward the large, four-poster bed, he turned back to Hermione with a smile. "I hope this is a little better than the last bed we shared."

She returned the smile, and pressed against him, her arms snaking around his waist. "It's perfect." She looked up at him, her lovely amber eyes warmly affectionate. "The thought of you lying there is very alluring."

Severus cupped her face in his hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. It was not their first wild, fiery kiss, nor was it the desperation-fueled kisses of their last encounter at the hotel in Shepherd's Bush. It was a tender declaration of his love and regard for her, and he cradled her reverently to his body as his lips moved against hers. She made a soft, helpless whimpering sound in her throat that he could actually taste in his mouth, and a rush of heat washed over his body.

He slipped his hand beneath her hair and caressed the back of her neck, deepening the kiss to a slow ride. He suckled against her mouth as if they had all the time in the world, as if their lives weren't endangered by the events of the day. Hermione seemed to sense this, and opened to him like a flower, her soft, warm mouth yielding to his tongue as he slid between her lips in the most decadent, languid of penetrations. He moaned against her mouth, and trembled as her hands caressed his body.

Reluctantly he eased away from her lips. He had to see her face, had to know what she was thinking. Looking down into her heavy-lidded eyes, regarding him with such trust and love, he was infused with the same feral, carnal madness that had incinerated him on that long ago Boxing Day evening.

"Oh, Hermione," he whispered softly. He had forgotten how sweet it was to want her.

She pulled him onto the bed with indecent haste, and he pressed her into the mattress as she kissed him wildly, turning his blood to fire. He was hard again, so ready for her, but he pushed his own desire away.

Hermione closed her eyes as Severus pressed against her. His weight felt exquisitely overwhelming, and she lay back, allowing him to take her over. He eased down her body, each kiss a blessing and a reverence, each caress an act of worship. His palms slid over her breasts, cupping them as if they were precious things, too valuable to bruise, too venerated to mar. His tongue drew a trail of heat that scorched her nerve endings raw, making her feel as helpless and drugged as the first time he had laid her down and taken her.

"Severus, please," she whined, feeling lightheaded and outside herself, needing him.

He laughed against her flesh. "Patience, love," he purred, and his mouth, hot and wet and sinfully good, closed over her taut nipple. He had meticulously learned her body, and he had an excellent gift for recall. Every teasing lick, every hard, hungry suck, every playful bite left her writhing and moaning beneath him, begging him not to stop, Oh, gods, don't stop.

Perversely, he stilled and looked up at her. "I'll make you forget," he panted, his voice dark and ominous, his eyes like black fire. "There is no one but me. There is nothing but pleasure. Say it," he commanded, drawing her aching nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. He drew away. "Say, it," he repeated, his voice gentler. "No one but me."

"No one but you," she moaned, understanding. "Nothing but pleasure. Make me forget them. Make me feel good again, Severus."

"Oh, yes," he hissed, leaving her nipples hard and wet, his mouth moving down, past her navel. Each kiss carried its own sweet moan, so that they vibrated against her skin as he eased her thighs apart, his hands gently insistent, and she opened for him gratefully. Her reward was a smile the likes of which she'd never seen from him. In that moment, with a dimple teasing his cheek, and his black eyes full of love and fire, Severus was so beautiful Hermione almost swooned.

And then his thumbs parted her folds as delicately as he would a pair of lacewings, and his long tongue painted a fluttery, feathery pattern of pleasure over her swollen clit. She cried out in shock, her orgasm upon her so violently her wail of relief echoed in the room. He lapped at her like a thirsting man, burying his large nose into her cleft, driving his pointed tongue into her core over and over, then engulfing her clit, sucking it into his mouth. Hermione screamed as a second orgasm jolted her hips from the bed, and he held her down, as his long fingers slipped into her slick channel and found the perfect spot, attacking it ruthlessly.

He sucked and licked and tongued her, until she was insensate and trembling. Her hands were convulsively clutching at his hair, and he smiled against her skin. "I want more," he growled, slowly withdrawing his fingers from her drenched and pulsing core. Hermione watched as he licked her juices from each finger, his smouldering eyes never leaving hers, and she reached out to him, making a soft, mewling sound of need.

He happily indulged her, and entered her arms, his secure weight pressing his rock-hard erection against her belly. He filled her mouth with kisses that tasted of her essence; they intoxicated her with their heady languor. "Please," she whispered against his lips. Finally, finally, his spine curled inward as he entered her body with the slow, practiced ease of a trusted, faithful lover.

Hermione gasped at the delicious friction of being filled by him. He was large; she could feel every silky inch of him as he delved deeper and deeper. "Holy fuck," she whispered shakily.

Looking down at her with a smirk, he chuckled, "I couldn't agree more." He withdrew almost completely, clenching his teeth against the sensation. "Oh, gods, you feel so good," he moaned, and curled into her again, making her shudder with desire. He rose onto his forearms, letting his hips swing free, watching her with lust-glazed eyes, his mouth kiss-swollen and parted in an 'O' of pleasure. Together they watched his large cock, glazed with her juices as it penetrated, then withdrew in a slow dance.

They hissed and shivered as he pumped slowly, in and out, and he moaned with each breath. "So wet and tight. Oh fuck it's good," he rasped. Some of the drugged look left his eyes, and he kissed her gently. "No one but you, Hermione. No one has ever made me feel this good."

Hermione put her arms around him and drew him closer, reveling in the heat and scent of his hard, male body. "More, Severus," she whispered, feeling her own coil knotting within. "You know what I want," she mewled, frantically tugging his earlobe with her teeth. "You know what I like."

He looked down at her with something of his trademark sneer. "I know what you want. Didn't I always give you what you want?"

"Yesss..."

"Tell me," he entreated. He was looking at her with such erotic intensity she felt her core well with slick need. "I want to hear you say it. You know what it does to me to hear you say it."

His hips pumped faster, but not enough. Helplessly she groaned into his ear. "Faster. Harder. Oh, gods, Severus, don't tease me anymore! Fuck me hard and deep and fast, like you used to! Make me lose myself in you! Oh, gods, yes!"

He had obeyed her from her first urgent words, rising from her body like Poseidon on a wave of power, and roared his passion into her, holding nothing back. Hermione keened as his body drove into her, lightning fast, pounding into her ruthlessly. As he thrust, his magic rubbed and crackled against hers, sending sparks of unspeakable pleasure sizzling over her, inside her and around her, until she was primed, and ready and...

Molten heat erupted in the center of her core, taking her impossibly high, until her orgasm burst from her, sending her crashing against him, wailing in relief that was too long in the waiting, too intense in the making, too beautiful in its fulfillment. She screamed his name, and he dropped to her body, wrapping his arms around the small of her back, and she made a feral, carnal sound that proved too much for him.

"Oh, fuck," he panted, his eyes glassy and wild. "I'm coming, oh, gods, I'm... Hermione!" He thrust into her so hard she actually cramped, and roared as his climax took him over the edge, his beautiful voice hoarse as he cursed and drove his white-hot seed into her waiting womb. He shuddered against her body, and she kissed his face breathlessly, holding him tightly as their bodies grew boneless and sated. His spent cock slipped from her, and she hissed at the loss of him.

Finally, when he could at last catch his breath, he rolled over, dragging her into his arms. They lay in the waning light, their breathing slowing to a soft rush of sound. "Fucking hell, witch," he panted. "You're even more wonderful than I allowed myself to remember."

She didn't bother to hide her grin. He was gorgeously flushed, his pale skin tinted pink, his eyes inky pools of contentment. He looked, as Pansy might have said, well-fucked and glad of it.

Hermione snuggled against him, and he lazily pulled her closer. Both dropped off to sleep almost instantly.

It was sometime later when Severus opened his eyes. Long shadows across the floor showed the fading light, and he guessed that no more than two hours had passed since he and Hermione had drifted off in one another's arms. Beside him, she twitched, then woke with a start, her arms flailing in blind panic. Instantly his hands moved to stroke and soothe her. "It's alright. You're safe." He felt her slump in relief, and added, "Are you in any pain? Was I too rough?"

Hermione shook her head and relaxed against his shoulder. After a few silent moments, she said softly, "Why, Severus? Why did all of this happen?"

Puzzled, he looked down at her. "Why did what happen?"

She regarded him gently, without judgment, only love and concern. "Why did we lose in the first place? Why did the Dark Lord try to kill you, then restore you to favour?"

Severus mentally took a large breath. He had sworn to tell her the truth, and so he started from the beginning. He filled her in on all the events they didn't talk about during that last, terrible year, when the only thing that made him want to continue breathing were those few short weeks of their passionate affair.

He told her about Lily Evans and his pact with Dumbledore to keep Harry safe. He told of how the Dark Lord had become convinced these 'Deathly Hallows' were the key to his immortality, and how he'd tried to kill Severus to ensure his full ownership of what he had believed to be the Elder Wand.

"Ironically enough, it was Lupin who saved my life," he said. He almost laughed at the shocked look on Hermione's face. The animosity between himself and the werewolf was well-known...as far as it went. "Nymphadora was injured during the battle, and when all was lost, Lupin stole her away to the Shrieking Shack." Severus shrugged slightly. "He found me there, and managed to get me to St. Mungo's. Then he and his wife fled here to Ireland."

Severus sighed. "Once Harry Potter was killed and the rest of the Order dead or scattered, Voldemort magnanimously decided to let bygones be bygones. He lost confidence in the idea of the Elder Wand and its loyalties. He had trusted me once; it never occurred to him that I was anything other than a loyal Death Eater ready and willing to die in his service.

"By that time, Malfoy had convinced Voldemort that I contributed to the success of the battle by betraying the Order and setting up the endgame. As a reward, he was prepared to offer a great boon upon my awakening. I regained consciousness almost three months later.

"I almost told Lucius exactly what he could do with his very high position," he said, absently twirling a damp curl that lay on Hermione's shoulder. "But I realised perhaps I was being given a second chance that had little to do with the brave new world." He gathered her in his arms. "I realised it might afford me the opportunity to do something decent, to somehow make up for the miserable failure I'd been for the Order...the miserable failure I'd been for us. I had done everything wrong." He sighed. "I was always the wrong man for the job. Dumbledore needed a spy; I agreed because I was too guilt-ridden to deny him. But I have never been a courageous man. In every moment of my life when it really counted, my fear paralysed me, and I was too afraid." The words fell from his lips heavy with regret. "I am a coward."

Hermione shook her head, her eyes soft with concern. "That's not true, Severus. Bravery has nothing to do with fear or the lack of it."

He nodded. "My head knows that, Hermione. My heart is another matter." He stroked her cheek, his affection for her swelling within. "I always admired you, you know. You were so brave, so strong. I think I was half in love with you already the night I walked into your wards, and they took me home."

With a gentle finger, he smoothed the faint line that threatened to etch a more permanent crease between her brows. "My brave little lioness, and I wasn't worthy of you, no matter how much I longed to be. I vowed that, if I could just survive long enough, I would become the wizard worthy of you, even though I held no hope you would ever want me again after what I did, the things I said."

"You must let them go, Severus," Hermione murmured, her soft breath warm against his chest. "What happened between us was sad, but I don't regret us. And at the time, I wasn't even thinking straight." Her voice was hollow. "All I could feel was fear. It was madness. They told me you were dead." She became still. "Then everyone in my world died, too."

"I didn't even know you were alive," he rasped. "I was sworn in as Foreign Minister two weeks before you were captured in Brighton. The first thing I tried to do covertly was to make sure you were placed with someone who wouldn't hurt you. I managed to find out Longbottom was already there, and..."

She rose from his arms and looked down at him. "What? You made sure they put me with Neville?" she said, her eyes filling. He nodded. "Thank you," she said brokenly, "for both our sakes."

He could barely meet her gaze. "I'd heard he was all but dead. I had hoped you two could support one another and keep each other alive while I worked to free you. By then, Azkaban was locked down tight and The Lestranges were using it as their own personal playground." He felt bile rise in his throat. "I managed to get them transferred to the continent, but not before they..."

"Shh," she said gently, and placed her fingers over his mouth. "I survived, didn't I? And I suspect I wouldn't have, but for all that you did."

"It wasn't enough," he replied bitterly.

She kissed him, and pulled at him until he was lying against her. He nuzzled against the soft pillow of her breast, and she stroked his hair. "It was everything," she whispered against his forehead.

He placed a possessive kiss against her breast, and pressed his hand against her flat stomach. "One day, I will put my seed in your belly, and you will kindle again." His voice trembled with emotion, but he didn't care. "And I will protect our child with my life, and see that he is born in a world without fear. And he will know how brave and beautiful and strong his mother is, and how much his father loves her."

Hermione placed her hand over his. "And he will be beautiful like his father, and strong and full of magic, and his mother will love him so..."

He was kissing her again, coaxing her body to renew its desire, and soon they were once again on fire, sparking with passion and magic and hope, and they made love with sweet, straining urgency, whispering their love for one another, and their promise to never be separated again.

Over breakfast the next morning, he reluctantly brought up the need to plan their next move. "Hermione, we have to leave the country as soon as possible. They'll start looking for us today, if they haven't started already."

To his relief, she nodded. "Yes, I know. I'm ready to go, Severus. I've gotten everything I need here." She gazed at him with love in her eyes. "But first we have one stop to make."

He shook his head decidedly. "Hermione, no. We already packed your flat, picked up Phineas and those odds and ends you said were the most important..."

"Yes, but there is still one important thing left to be done." Strength and power seemed to flow from her, making his heart pound. "And then I'll go wherever you wish to take me." She reached for his hand and kissed it firmly. "I'm yours now, and you're mine."

He sighed in relief, squeezing her hand. "Thank you."