Part The Sixth

Thank you all for your amazing comments. I am thrilled to pieces that so many of you are enjoying the story. Give some love to Jules, the best beta in fandom, for working so hard to get this story polished up - she put the awe in awesome!

During the third week of December, Hermione received a letter from the most officious owl Severus had ever seen, requesting her presence at the Ministry the following day. She read the missive with grim satisfaction; though she didn't discuss it with him, Severus deduced it must be something about his sentence. He didn't want to push it.

Over the previous weeks, he had become more comfortable without magic than he had been in the last ten years. Severus had always thought of himself as a survivor, but he had always equated the act of surviving with the state of existence. He had told himself repeatedly that he was existing for the end of his sentence. The past few weeks with Hermione and Rose, however, had felt more like living.

Almost by osmosis, he fell into the daily schedule of their lives, and they accepted him as if he'd been there for months instead of weeks. What had once smacked of charity to him merely felt like routine. His toothbrush sat in the little holder alongside theirs; the razors he used to shave himself appeared with the weekly shopping.

He would walk into his room and find a new shirt or a pair of socks sitting on the bed, the tags still dangling from the cuffs, and he would feel the quiet, almost boyish joy at having something new to wear. When he thanked Hermione, he felt her pleasure in his satisfaction. It made him feel at once a treasured part of their lives and a weak, vain fool.

She indulged him in other ways as well. His teeth, never his best feature, had been in horrendous shape, but Hermione was not a daughter of dentists for naught. Once she'd repaired the damaged done by neglect and malnutrition, apples became one of Severus' guilt-free pleasures. He hadn't enjoyed the feel of biting into a crisp, tart apple for a long time, and now he couldn't seem to get enough. Because he loved them so much, they became Rose's favourite afternoon snack as well, so Hermione kept the fruit bowl full. The three of them could often be found sitting around the table of an evening, munching away on Galas, Russets and Braeburns as Severus assisted Rose with her homework.

The energy level of the house always increased when Rose blew through the door every afternoon, talking of school and books and friends and the upcoming holidays. She would bustle in, throwing her coat on the rack and her books on the table, chatting away a mile a minute, filling the house with smiles, laughter and the force of nature that was Rose Granger.

She always greeted Severus with a bone-crushing hug, whether he welcomed it or not. It never occurred to her that he wouldn't want to be touched. In the end, he simply accepted her suffocating embraces, muttering, "Anything for a quiet life." He grumbled to Hermione that Rose treated him like her favourite pet, or a doll she'd inherited.

She brought him a cup of tea every evening, and in turn, Severus honoured her request to improve her Chess game. Wizards Chess had been dear to her late father's heart, but it was a game Hermione had never really enjoyed. Rose secretly delighted in sharing this one activity with Mr. Snape alone.

Because she had never known him as a magical being, Rose accepted Severus in a way that not even Hermione could do, and while he cared for the mother more with every passing day, he also felt a contented kinship with the daughter. Watching Rose, Severus often wondered what his own children would have been like if he had had any. Rose made him feel normal, and in turn, Severus unwittingly gave Rose a hero to worship.

On the last Friday before the school holidays commenced, Hermione descended the stairs dressed in very official and formal-looking robes. She looked professional and very assertive, and Severus' heart leapt at the sight of her. He had ever been a fool for a smart, powerful witch. The lovely eyes and heart-shaped bottom didn't detract, either.

"Severus, I have an errand to run. Could I impose on you to pick up Rose from school this afternoon? It won't take long," she said hastily.

"It would be no imposition," he said, formally. Hermione awarded him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks. I'll send word to her Head you'll be there to pick her up, so they'll be expecting you." She made a little noise as she pushed an earring through her pierced lobe. "You'll need to be there around two-thirty. They're letting school out a little early for the Christmas fair tonight in the village." She slung the strap of a briefcase over her shoulder. "Oh, and if you'd like, tell Rose if she's made at least a ninety percent on her Reading test, we'll go and pick a Christmas tree in the village this evening."

"Agreed," he said, returning to his book. Hermione watched him for a moment, her expression thoughtful, then grabbed a handful of Floo power and left in a flash of green light.

When Hermione came home that afternoon, she found Rose bouncing with excitement. "I made ninety-seven percent on my test, Mum! Ninety-seven percent!" she exclaimed, dancing around and waving the test results in the air under Hermione's nose. "Severus said we could get our tree tonight!"

Hermione gave her daughter a hug. "Well done, Rose! I'm so proud of you!" She looked over Rose's shoulder to Severus, who was leaning in the doorway, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "So it's 'Severus' now, is it?"

He smirked slightly. "I asked what I could give her as a reward for doing well, and that was her choice." He quirked a brow. "I actually meant for her to choose either chocolate or butterbeer, but as I didn't make the parameters specific enough, I'm afraid she caught me on the technicality."

Hermione turned to Rose, who was smiling up at her mother. "Well, that is a special gift, Rose. I should be very proud, if I were you." She said to Severus, "Thank you for revising with her last night."

Confidently, Rose replied, "Aw, I knew I was gonna do well on the test, Mum. Severus taught me some great menomics."

At Hermione's baffled expression, Severus laughed. "Mnemonics, Rose."

She grinned cheekily. "Those too." Rose turned toward Severus, "Can I have an apple, Severus?"

"May I-"

"May I have an apple, Severus?" Nodding, he tossed her a Russet and she caught it deftly, polishing it on her shirt like a cricketer. She snagged his arm as she headed toward the kitchen. "C'mon, I want to finish my homework early, so we can have loads of time in the village this evening!"

With a martyred sigh that fooled no one, Severus allowed himself to be dragged toward the table where Rose's schoolwork lay scattered haphazardly. Hermione caught his eye as he passed, and a wave of affection for him almost made her knees buckle. "Oh, hell," she murmured out loud. She had it bad.

To Severus, the evening was magical. Even though they were in a Muggle village with no real magic in evidence, the night stood out in Severus' mind as magical for many reasons. The cold weather held, and there was a dry snow falling as they strolled through Bottlebury Marsh, drinking mulled wine and listening to the local brass band playing holiday favourites.

Hermione looked like a vision in a bright red coat with large black buttons. A matching beret and mittens completed the look, and Severus felt a surge of possessive pride, walking up the High Street with this lovely creature on his arm. Rose, bedecked in purple, skipped along on his right side. Severus felt quietly satisfied, flanked by these formidable young women.

Hermione had insisted on buying him a proper winter coat - black, of course, with black woolen gloves to match. He had been so cold living rough; now, if unable to get warm, he suffered panic attacks, causing his muscles to cramp painfully. To prevent this, Hermione cast surreptitious Warming charms over the three of them. The snow crunched under their feet, and the sound added to the ambience of the evening. It was as if they were in a Christmas card come to life, full of fairy lights, falling snow and pink cheeks, mulled wine and band music.

While Rose joined her school mates in line at the Father Christmas grotto, Hermione and Severus strolled around the square, admiring the decorations. As Hermione nestled companionably against him, Severus thought with some shock that, but for this pretty little witch now chatting away by his side, he would no doubt be dead now.

By rights, he should be a frozen statistic; a tawdry little sideline on the back pages of the Prophet. At one time he'd resigned himself to such a fate; now he could not remotely identify with that defeated, hopeless man. Only the suppression cuff served as a grim reminder of those dark, despairing days when the best he could hope for was a quick, painless, anonymous death.

Villagers smiled at them as they passed and wished them a Happy Christmas. At one of the street market stalls, a plump little woman gave them both steaming cups of very strong, very sweet tea. "There you go, love," she said, her warm Yorkshire accent lilting and homely to his ears.

"Thank you," he said, just as Rose arrived, rosy-cheeked and full of excitement. "Did you tell Father Christmas about your test grades?" he asked offhandedly.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh, he doesn't want to know all that! All he asked is what I wanted for Christmas," she said, clearly showing a growing skepticism for the whole 'Father Christmas' thing.

"And did you tell him, Rose? He isn't a mind-reader, you know," Hermione said, solemnly.

"Oh, Mum, I'm not a baby," Rose said, blushing. She turned to Severus. "Father Christmas is for the little kids."

Before Severus could contradict her, the stall-owner reached over the counter and handed Severus a candy cane. At his puzzled expression, she nodded toward Rose. "On the house, love. A sweetie, for your daughter." She looked at Rose affectionately. "Lovely hair. When I was a young girl, I had ginger hair meself."

Filled with a sudden, inexplicable pleasure for being mistaken for Rose's father, Severus repaid the stall-holder with a purred, "So, not so long ago, then?"

The older woman guffawed and swatted his arm playfully. "Oh, give over, you! I'd watch him, love," she laughed, addressing Hermione. "He's got a silver tongue, that one."

Hermione watched him carefully as they strolled away. "That was really sweet, you know," she said, biting her lower lip. Severus walked on, sipping his tea. It was too hot to drink, but it felt wonderful in his hands.

"She seemed like a decent sort."

Hermione pulled one of her long, curly hairs from his coat. "Gods, you've had this coat for less than a week and I've already shed all over it. I'm worse than poor Crookshanks ever was."

"I don't mind that you shed on me, Hermione. You look very festive tonight, by the way."

Absurdly pleased, Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Severus." She shrugged modestly. "You look rather dashing yourself."

He rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I do have to look in the mirror when I shave. I may stand behind it, but I'm under no illusions about my face."

Hermione looked at him levelly. "Nevertheless, you do have a bearing that is striking. And you're quite graceful, the way you walk. And you have nice hands and I love your eyes, and-"

She stopped, suddenly aware of Severus staring down at her intently. Swallowing, she said, "I think you've got this physical quality about you that's very... alluring."

His expression plainly told her he didn't believe her. "Well, it's true," she said as they resumed walking. "And you have a lovely voice." A tiny smile graced the corners of her mouth. "I've always thought you had an amazing speaking voice, even when I was a student. You could make the most mundane thing sound fascinating."

In a tone that could only be described as glossy, he replied, "Imagine what I might sound like if I were speaking on a subject that excited me."

Hermione didn't react at first. Then a slow smile spread across her face, and he felt a delicious little frisson of desire pass between them. "Now that would definitely be worth listening to, Severus," she said, a little flirtatiously. Severus felt his arousal ramp up a notch. Other parts of his body were waking up and having a look around as well, which he found rather delightful.

They continued their stroll through the various trader stalls and food vendors. Emboldened, Hermione asked, "So, do you, Severus?"

"Do I what?" he asked mildly, sipping his tea.

"Have a silver tongue?"

Only Providence prevented him from choking on his drink. In the most persuasive, velvet tone he could dredge up from the old days, he crooned, "Would you like to discover for yourself?"

"Yes," she said immediately. That one word seemed to hold the answer to every question about sex he'd ever pondered. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and they resumed their walk, each almost painfully, absurdly pleased with the other.

Just then, Rose bounded up, accompanied by several girls, all giggling and talking at once. "There you are!" Rose turned to Hermione. "Mum, this Sonia, Dierdre, and Ashley." She turned to the gaggle of little girls. "And this is my mum and my friend, Severus."

"Hello, girls," Hermione replied, smiling.

"Good evening, ladies," Severus said, his voice deep and formal, and to his consternation, all of them, Rose included, started giggling.

"See? I told you he sounds like a movie star!" Rose crowed to her friends and they darted away, glancing back occasionally, then laughing behind their hands.

Disconcerted, Severus turned to Hermione, who was trying very hard not to laugh. "I think you have the beginnings of a fan club," she teased.

"Ha bloody ha."

"Enjoy it, Severus. You must realise that Rose is crazy about you. She wanted to show you off to her friends."

He turned to her, dumbfounded. "Why me? Why do I always have to be the freak?"

Hermione stilled, the playfulness gone from her face. Severus thought, I've only fucking done it again. I've said and done the wrong thing.

Hermione finally walked on, leading him down the High Street. "You're not a freak, Severus," she said quietly. "Granted, you can be a right pain in the arse at times with this chip on your shoulder, but being unique and interesting does not a freak make." Her tone, while clipped, sounded more frustrated than angry. "Take a compliment for what it is. Rose and I have no hidden agendas. We're not setting you up. We're not laughing at you behind your back. We happen to like you, you big pillock!"

They walked in silence. "Hermione -" Severus began, at a loss for words, "I-I'm sorry. I'm just not used to being held in such regard." He sighed. "I'm not used to any of this. And as lovely as it feels, it's still hard to accept. I feel certain that, at any moment, the rug will be pulled from under my feet, and I'll be the butt of the joke again."

Hermione replied by leaning her head against his shoulder. The gesture was both comforting and affirming, as if she were trying to take as much comfort from him as she gave. "I know, Severus, but honestly! We're not in school anymore. You really need to work on your trust issues."

Feeling the pleasant, warm weight of her body against his arm, Severus thought of the old woman in the stall who thought Rose was his daughter. By proxy, she must have assumed Hermione was his wife. I could make my life here. People accept me here, he thought. Looking down at Hermione, he knew he wanted to. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her.

Hermione, I'm in love with you, but I'm terrified I'll balls this up. I've done everything I can to discourage it; nothing works. I've tried being aloof; you and Rose just hug me tighter. I've tried being irascible; you tell me to suck it up. I've gotten angry; you've placated me and told me to get over it.

No matter what I do, you have forgiven me and petted me all the more. In fact, you treat me like Argus used to treat that flea bag, Mrs. Norris. The old fool doted on that mangy furball. That's how you and Rose treat me, Hermione, and I secretly lap it up, just like Mrs. Norris did, because -

Severus' breath caught. Because Mrs. Norris knew Argus loved her. That cat might have been foul-tempered, mistrustful and distinctly odourous, but she knew what love was. She knew Filch petted and indulged and lavished time and care on her because he loved her. Like you love me, his heart whispered, and the realisation made him shiver, despite Hermione's Warming charms.

He brushed a finger across the tip of Hermione's nose to get her attention. She looked up at him questioningly. He swallowed. "I will work on them. You and Rose are good teachers." He smiled ruefully. "Perhaps I am a stubborn pupil, but I do want to learn."

Hermione smiled up at him with complete confidence. "Don't worry, Severus. I don't give up that easily." She laughed mischievously. "Perhaps you and Rose can develop a series of menomics to aid you."

Severus closed his eyes. "I will certainly try. Hard."

"Don't try, Severus," she said, saluting him with her cup of tea. "Just do it." She laced her fingers with his, and they quietly strolled over to the tree stand.

"I can't believe it's finally Christmas Eve!" Rose cried, as the three of them sat in the kitchen. Hermione was removing the latest batch of cookies from the oven as Severus brewed the tea and Rose finished wrapping the last of her cousins' presents. "It'll be forever until tomorrow comes."

Severus nodded empathetically, remembering his own childhood. Time seemed to move so slowly around Christmas. Over the past ten years, time had dragged those same reluctant feet toward the end of his sentence. Five more years, he told himself. Five more Christmases and I'll truly be free. He pondered the word as he watched Hermione's delectable bum, bent over the open oven door. Free to do what? What more do I want to do than what I'm doing now?

Hermione turned around with another baking sheet of cookies. She gave him a warning look as he snuck one of them onto a plate.

"Stealing," she accused archly.

"Quality Control," he countered smugly. She responded by breaking off a piece and holding it up to his mouth, and he allowed her to feed him, resisting the urge to lick her fingers. She gave him a smile that he felt down to his toes.

Severus glanced up just as Rose gave her mother a pointed look, then flicked her eyes toward him. "Ask him," she said through gritted teeth.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright! Merlin, Rose, you're like a Niffler on a hunt when you get something on your mind."

Severus scowled. "Ask him what?" he growled warily.

Hermione coloured slightly. "Okay. A little history here." She sat down and took her cup of tea from his hand with a little nod. "Thanks. Well. Four years ago, I bought Rose a karaoke machine." Doubtfully, she said, "You do know what a- okay, good," she smiled, at his terse nod.

"We decided that on Christmas Eve we would stage a concert for Harry and his family and for Fred and George's families and Molly and Arthur. We rehearsed for weeks, it seems, but the day before Christmas Eve, Fleur Weasley went into labour."

"I see," Severus said, recalling something in the Prophet about yet another Weasley progeny being born on Christmas Eve after a very difficult labour.

"So, anyway, Rose and I were useless at hospital, and no one would leave to come to our little concert, so," she blushed slightly, "we decided to go ahead and do it anyway and sing to the sofa."

Severus suppressed a smile. Barely. "So you and Rose sang to an empty sofa," he said, biting his lip. "At least you were in no imminent danger of your audience walking out on you."

"Ha bloody ha," she said, smiling. "Actually, we had such a good time, we decided that every year, we'd have our concert, but since the sofa seemed to enjoy it so much..." She raised her eyebrows in invitation.

"You saw no reason to invite anyone else to join it, I believe?"

She nodded, impressed. "In one. It's been our favourite holiday tradition since. But Rose and I have been discussing this, and," she announced, in a mock formal voice, "we'd really, really like you to come as a guest of the sofa and attend our concert."

Severus looked at her in wonder. "I hardly have any other pressing engagements, Hermione. Besides, where else would I go, except to my room?"

She dropped her shoulders. "Well that's just it, Severus. Even if there were a dozen other places you could be, including your room, we would still want you here with us, regardless." She softened. "This is a sort of special tradition to Rose and me. We want to make you a part of it." She risked a glance at his unreadable face. "This is important to me, Severus. It would mean a great deal to me if you'd sit in, as it were."

Severus pondered her words. She looked so hopeful; she looked afraid. Formally, he replied, "In that case, I would be honoured to attend."

"YAY!"

The both turned to see Rose in the doorway. "I knew you'd come, Severus! You're gonna love it."

Hermione gave him look of excruciatingly Gryffindorish sincerity. "The sofa's given us rave reviews."

"Then how could I refuse?"

Rose cheered. "Excellent! Come on then, we've only an hour to dress!" She turned and galloped up the stairs.

"Dress?" Severus said, dubiously.

Hermione nodded. A smile prinked the corner of her mouth. "Oh yes. The Granger Girls Christmas Eve Sofa Concert is a very formal affair."

Severus found dress robes hanging on the back of his door. They were reminiscent of his teaching robes: beautifully cut, obviously new and obviously tailored for him. They fit perfectly, and he brushed his fingertips over the cloth with the appreciative caress of a lover of fine clothing. Using one of Rose's cast-off elastic bands, he pulled his long, black hair back into a queue. After he dressed, he stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, wondering how the hell he had gone from a homeless, failed prostitute in rags to an honoured guest in fine robes in two short months. He felt at once like his old self and a fraud.

In reality, he only outwardly resembled the professor of Hermione's school days. Mentally, he was not that wizard anymore. The Severus Snape from those days would have been out the door after the first hug, sneering and snarking all the way. Nor was he the whipped cur of a man who had slunk into the dark alleyway with a bullet-headed wizard, clutching a few Sickles in exchange for the use of his pitiful body.

He had gained over two stone since the beginning of November. He could no longer count his ribs, nor feel his hipbones riding so close to the surface of his skin. His eyes shone bright and alert from a face that was pale, but held a healthy glow beneath. He felt even better than he looked. He had the appetite of a horse, slept like a clean conscience and enjoyed his days in safety and relative peace, surrounded by those who cared about him. He was warm and comfortable and, dare he hope, loved. He was in love with a beautiful witch and unless he was fatally mistaken, she held him in high regard as well.

But the cuff on his right wrist told another story. It reminded him he still wasn't whole, and that made him feel like a fake in his fine robes and glowing, well-fed body. Until his magic returned, and he could somehow give something back to Hermione and Rose, he would always feel like their pet, and not a true contributing member of the house.

He was still considering these things as he sat on the sofa, in anticipation of whatever was to come. In his hands was a meticulously hand-lettered programme entitled "The Granger Girls' Fifth Annual Christmas Eve Sofa Concert." On the cover was a drawing by Rose, featuring a fairly accurate illustration of Severus, a long,thin figure in black, sitting on the Granger sofa, while music notes danced over his head.

His likeness was scowling, as if giving serious consideration to yanking down one of the semi-quavers and throttling it. Severus suppressed the urge to laugh, and he thought of Rose and Hermione sneaking about, creating this programme, rehearsing without his knowledge.

Then the lights dimmed, leaving him in darkness, except for the fairy lights of the Christmas tree. A drum roll sounded, and Hermione stepped into the room in a body-hugging robe of dark green velvet, trimmed in gold. Her hair fell in soft ringlets, and she gave him a glorious smile. Severus stared in foolish wonder at this gorgeous goddess, dressed in her slinky sheath of a robe, and thanked Merlin for the generous cut of his. He was doubly thankful he didn't have to stand.

Next, Rose appeared in a lovely, floor-length red velvet dress trimmed with white ribbons, her dark auburn hair gleaming in the light. In a clear, girlish voice, Rose said, "Welcome to the Granger Girls' Christmas Eve Sofa Concert!" A series of bell-like notes chimed in the air, followed by the sound of a large chord rolling through the room like a gong.

Rose looked at Severus, and put her hands to her heart and sang, "I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need,"

Hermione adopted the same pose, and looking into his eyes, she sang, "I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree,"

Together they sang, "I just want you for my own, more than you will ever know,"

Then Hermione stepped up to him and took his hand, singing, "Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is YOU!"

Severus sat, frozen, his heart pounding, his breath coming rapidly. Cold sweet beaded on his forehead. Suddenly he was out of the room, bounding up the stairs two at a time, trying to breathe. From the front room he dimly heard Rose's bewildered voice, saying, "Mum, what did we do?"

He slammed the door and leaned against it, fighting tears. Gasping, trying to breathe, he clawed at his throat, and forced open the top of the robe so forcefully the button flew from the collar.