Epilogue

A/N: I apologise for the epic length of this Epilogue, but it all fit together, and there wasn't a good stopping place. I thank everyone for sticking with the story, and I welcome your thoughts and reviews on this. Happy Valentine's Day. :)

Christmas, 2009

Running a shaking hand over her breast, Severus felt it again. The slow, steady, strong heartbeat of his wife. His living, breathing, wife. He looked up at Poppy Pomfrey, not daring to ask.

Poppy was nodding.. "The fever's gone. She's sleeping naturally. The serum worked." She smiled shakily at her friend. "Severus, I think the worst is behind us."

For a moment, Severus looked at her blankly, then took the sleeping woman in his arms, and began to hum and rock her once again.

Rather fearful of Severus' mental state, Poppy repeated, "Severus, did you hear me? Hermione will be all right-"

"I know, Poppy. I heard you."

Severus never took his eyes from his wife's peaceful, sleeping face. He softly stroked her cheek. "I want to be the first person she sees when she wakes." He sniffed and absently took Poppy's proffered handkerchief. He smiled down at Hermione with more tenderness than Poppy had thought possible of Severus Snape. "I want my voice to be the first sound she hears."

Over in the corner, unobserved, Minerva McGonagall anxiously watched the man she'd known almost his entire life. She'd fought with and against him, and stood by him as his Deputy. She'd watched him change from an angry young man into a man who had learned to ask for help, and had used that help to learn to live with his past and grow up to be a better man.

She'd just seen him outsmart a demon and bring his wife back from the bloody dead. Minerva smiled proudly. Cunning little Slytherin oik. She'd probably never hear the end of this.

"My mother was an extremely unhappy woman," Severus began. He was sitting by Hermione's bed. Poppy and Minerva sat across from him on the other side of the bed, and the three women listened raptly.

Severus shook his head. "I honestly don't believe she created the spell deliberately. I think the spell developed through her unhappiness and fear. The song was just a catalyst."

For awhile, no one spoke. Finally, Minerva added, "Severus, I knew your mother. Not well, mind, but I knew her. I cannot honestly believe she would have done anything to harm you. She loved you very much, but as you say, she was a very unhappy woman married to an abusive man.

"I think more than anything, she wanted to keep you safe from Tobias. Perhaps the song was originally mean to protect you from your father, to 'hide' you both from him, but in the chaos of her emotions, the intent became twisted to summon this creature to steal away what the caster loved or wanted the most. In any case, you couldn't have known it was anything more than a lullaby."

Severus shook his head. "No. She would have warned me, if she had known. I opened myself to it. And it fed on my fear and my guilt and my pride."

Hermione placed a thin hand over his, and he looked tenderly down at his wife. She was still pale and drawn, but he could see her strength returning. He found he could rest a little, knowing she would still be there when he woke.

"Severus, I've been thinking about this a lot, and I think it found a way 'in' because I was too weak from the fever to separate fact from delirium."

She looked at him with eyes that were bleak and troubled. "It was all so real. It's as if I'd lived several months during those few days. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had died, and you followed quickly afterward-" A soft sob escaped her. Being so weak, Hermione cursed the fact that she couldn't seem to control her emotions. Everything made her tearful. Severus understood, and clasped her hand almost painfully, to assure her he was indeed alive and well.

Hermione continued, "I just felt so lost without you. The pain of losing you was physical. I couldn't breathe without you." Tears rolled down her sunken cheeks. "When I think of how that... thing used my emotions to turn me inside out, to make me believe your were dead, I...." She stopped, and shook her head. Severus was starting to look at her with grave concern.

She saw his anxiety, and tried to comfort him. She'd worried him enough. Hermione sighed. "Those awful things it said weren't true, Severus. You must understand that."

Severus stroked her hand gently, his thumb drawing slow circles on the top of her wrist. "I do, love. I've even entertained the thought that it was the reason I felt so compelled to take you flying so much. It may have known your health was a little delicate."

Hermione thought of her flight with the 'angel'. "I knew something wasn't quite right when I flew with it. I wasn't afraid, and that bothered me. I was always afraid when I flew with you, even though I knew you wouldn't allow any harm to come to me. And even during the winter, you were always so warm beside me, and it felt so cold, and its scent..."

Everyone looked at her, confused. Colouring slightly, Hermione chanced a quick glance at her husband. "I really like the way Severus smells."

The older women chuckled quietly as Severus looked rather abashed. Hermione smiled at her husband. "It's just that... the angel didn't have a scent. I remember thinking, something's just not quite right. But it had my emotions so stirred up, I couldn't think straight enough to work it out."

Severus pulled at his ear. "I believe that's one of its tools to reel in its victims. I was so wracked with guilt and shame I couldn't see the truth. It was only when it shape-shifted into Albus that I realized it was all a sham."

The women were puzzled. "How so, Severus?" Minerva asked, refilling his whiskey glass. They were finishing their Christmas Day Feast in the Infirmary with Hermione, and Minerva had sneaked in the libation for the three of them. Hermione, still ingesting the powerful cocktail of potions Madam Pomfrey had prescribed, had to content herself with pumpkin juice for the moment.

Severus smiled. "The 'angel' tried to make me believe that I had killed Mother and Lily by singing him to them. Then it changed into Albus, and it knew my feelings for Albus would overwhelm me and it would win." He shook his head. "But I never sang the spell to Albus. It made the mistake of lumping him into the entire sorry mess, and that's when I realized that everything it said was a lie."

Severus looked at his wife, his eyes bleak. "When it taunted me with how inadequate I was and how much better off you'd be without me, I took the chance that I could use its own magic against it."

He took his wife's hand, and kissed it reverently. "The only truth, in the end, was that I truly wanted to be a more perfect man for you."

Christmas Day 2010

Hermione woke with a start, and in that moment, she remembered that she was alone. Her heart stuttered for a moment. Where was her love, her Severus?

She looked up, and saw the familiar ceiling of the Hogwarts Infirmary and moaned slightly. Her body was sore and exhausted. She was irritated and disorientated, and hated the feeling, knowing it was the residual effect of a Dreamless Sleep Draught. She really didn't like being force-fed those things, even if the hand somewhat ruthlessly tipping it down her throat was her husband's.

"H-hello?" she ventured, and looked around in confusion. Then her head cleared completely, and she remembered. It was Christmas Day.

Everyone was celebrating. Everyone but me, she thought, rather petulantly. Totally unfair. Especially when I'm the one they're celebrating.

Her movements must have tripped a ward, for the recognizable staccato of Poppy Pomfrey's heels clicking on the stone floor increased in volume, and the Healer was suddenly at her side, bustling, already pushing Hermione back down on the bed.

"Mistress Snape, really! You of all people know you are in NO condition to be rambling all over Hogwarts!"

Hermione snorted. "I fail to see how getting out of bed constitutes 'a ramble' Madam Pomfrey," she grumbled, and Poppy bit back a retort. Honestly, the chit was starting to sound more like Severus with each passing day!

"Still, you know you shouldn't be out of bed."

"Where are they?" Hermione had not lived with Severus all those years and not learned how to make her already bossy tone even more imperious. It brooked no nonsense, and when she crossed her arms, Poppy almost laughed at her. She really must remember to tell Severus about Hermione imitating him in an effort to intimidate her.

Madam Pomfrey softened. "'They are in the nursery, Mistress Snape. Asleep, no doubt, as you should be."

"I want to see them."

"Just a bit more rest-"

"I have every right, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Very well. But for only a few minutes and then you MUST get some rest." She favoured Hermione with a fond smile. "You have a family to consider now, Hermione. They need you at your healthiest."

Hermione sniffed, tears threatening. Merlin, her hormones were out of whack. On impulse, she gave the older woman a hug.

Severus always said, when all else failed, hug Poppy. "I promise."

Madam Pomfrey patted her back briskly. "Come then. I'll help you. You've just had a magical Caesarian; I won't take any chances of you taking a fall."

Together the two women walked a short way down the Infirmary Hall until they reached a blue door. Above it was marked, "Special Care." Madam Pomfrey turned to Hermione, put a finger to her lips, and quietly opened the door.

Hermione gasped. The room was charmed to look exactly like the nursery they'd created in the Headmaster's chambers. Magically painted rabbits, puppies and kittens gamboled on the walls, and the painted grass swayed in the wind. The sun and moon slowly made their appointed journeys across the walls, and fluffy clouds floated serenely across the ceiling.

On the far wall was a small cot, with a mobile of tiny flying brooms, whizzing around in a slow circle. Just in front of the cot was a rocker, its back to the door. It was occupied by Hermione's husband, rocking their newborn son, and as he moved the chair back and forth with his feet, he sang:

"Sleep my darling, now gently sleep, and mother and father their vigil will keep,

Protect them with this solemn vow, to watch o'er them as I watch over you now."

Hermione listened as Severus sang, her heart filled to bursting. The infant in his arms was long of limb, black haired and beautiful. From his widow's peak to his arched and delicate brows and long feet, he was the perfect image of his father. Her precious husband, Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had put this exquisite boy in her belly.

She walked gingerly around to face him, and when Severus looked up and saw her, he jumped up in surprise, waking the baby. Instead of crying, the youngest Snape merely regarded his mother and father so solemnly, Hermione laughed. Two sets of eyes, one black and one deep blue, looked at her, and she thought she might swoon with happiness.

"I thought you were asleep," Severus said, his tone chastening. He gave her a trademark scowl of disapproval. "I thought you were supposed to be asleep." He waited until she carefully sat down in the rocker, then placed their infant in her arms.

"I was, but I woke up and Poppy let me come to see my men." Hermione looked down at her newborn son. He was less than one day old, born in the wee hours of Christmas Day, and so beautiful she was already as in love with him as with his father.

"Hello, you," she smiled down at him, and he looked up at her with a faint line between his dark, downy brows. It was Severus' scowl in miniature and Hermione thought it the most precious thing she'd ever seen. "Merlin, he's you made over."

Snape sighed. "I know. I've been sitting here, holding him for the past hour trying to convince myself otherwise. Poor little blighter."

Hermione shot her husband a warning look. "Oh, no you don't, Severus Snape. You know exactly how I feel about that."

The Headmaster of Hogwarts tutted, and crossed his arms haughtily but without rancor. "Hphmm. I'm not the one blinded by love, my girl. I know my face-"

"Belongs to the Runner-Up in the Most Sexy Wizard in Britain Contest, according to the readers of Witch Weekly." Hermione smirked. "I keep telling you, you should be very proud. After all, you beat out Harry Potter, Bill Weasley and Draco Malfoy."

Severus rolled his eyes. He deadpanned, "Yes, curse Lucius Malfoy. Witches are so shallow nowadays. Take away all that long, blond hair and what have you got? Ears like wingnuts."

"Really?"

"Why do you think he's always worn it so long, pet?" Severus replied, and they shared a laugh as Severus knelt beside the rocker. The baby began to fuss, and Hermione opened her robe and offered him a breast, which he latched onto greedily, making tugging motions and ridiculously loud sucking noises.

Hermione glanced up to find Severus watching his newborn son suckling her rosy nipple. His expression was one of stunned, abject joy. She smiled at him lovingly, and he tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. Her opposite breast oozed a tiny bit of milk, and she shivered as Severus reached out a finger to catch the droplet. He brought the liquid to his lips and licked it from his finger, reveling in the taste of her milk for the first time.

"How does it taste?" she teased, and he flushed slightly. His black eyes appraised her, and they were appreciative and promising.

"Like love, little one." She laughed softly and he leaned forward and kissed her lips tenderly.

"You need rest, Hermione." His lovely voice was like a soft bed, deep and warm and beckoning.

"He'll be full soon." Hermione was loath to leave this cozy room with her husband and son, to return to the cold, indifferent Infirmary ward cot.

"Your parents will be in tomorrow, and you'll want to be bright-eyed for them. They're coming on the train. I think they were ready to risk the Floo Network to get here to see the baby."

Shortly after their marriage, Severus had called in a favour with a Charms Specialist at St. Mungo's. With his help, her parents' memories had been almost completely restored. It had thrilled them to re-discover that, not only did they have a child, but said child was about to give them grandchildren.

Hermione looked up at him. "Have you decided on the name?"

Severus pursed his lips for a moment. "Are you still happy with Cobel?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "I think it suits him." She yawned suddenly, her jaw creaking. "I suppose I am a little tired." She raised the drowsing infant to her shoulder and began to rub his back gently. A surprisingly loud belch issued from the little mouth, and he settled comfortably in his mother's arms.

"Cobel," Hermione said to him. "This is your birthday, my beautiful boy. You were born on a very special day, and your mother and father love you very much."

Severus leaned over the rocker, and looked down at the woman who'd borne his child earlier that day. She looked absolutely exhausted, and there were dark circles under her eyes and her skin seemed stretched taut over her bones. Poppy had assured him she was fine, but after the previous year's close call, Severus was taking no chances.

He looked down at his lovely son, and in spite of his long-suffering tirade on his family resemblance, Severus thought his child absolutely beautiful. He was terrified of being a bad father, and desperate to be a good one. He often thought of the Black-Eyed Angel, who took that which the singer coveted most, and shivered with fear.

He wanted his love to be pure for his wife, for this child and others, if they were so blessed. He realized he'd been complacent, smug in his new-found self-acceptance. It made him realize how arrested his development had truly been, and how far he had to go. And, as Hermione reminded him on a daily basis, he needed to learn how to not be his own worst enemy, or critic.

Now fatherhood had come along, bringing with it another set of insecurities. Was he ready for it? Everyone, from Arthur Weasley to Lucius Malfoy, had given him loads of advice. Most of it all boiled down to a succinct statement his father-in-law had had made when he and Hermione had announced the pregnancy: "Severus, you just have to keep his nappy clean, hold your nerve when he's learning to ride a broom, and forgive him when he does stupid things like putting tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches in the blu-ray player."

Severus had nodded sagely, all the while thinking, What in the name of fuck is a blue ray and how do you play with it?

"What was the song you were singing when I arrived? I don't think I've ever heard it before."

Startled out of his reverie, Severus looked almost...embarrassed. Finally, he confessed, "Actually, I made it up. A bit safer than, you know."

Hermione smiled. "It's perfect." She looked down at their son. "He's perfect." She looked up at his father.

"You're perfect."

Christmas Eve 2035

The Great Hall was festooned to look like a winter wonderland at nighttime. The evening light shone a deep midnight blue, a colour that reminded Hermione of the velvet comforter that had covered her marriage bed.

Trees of every shape, from umbrella style to traditionally shaped Christmas trees, lined the edges of the Hall, flocked with snow that magically sifted down on the guests, but never landed. The room was a vision of blue and silver, its inhabitants hushed in anticipation, and Hermione, in her velvet dress robe of deep forest green, waited with the others for the men to arrive.

The door at the rear of the Hall slowly opened, and the Procession of the Men began. Her heart swelled as her tall, dark haired son strode down the aisle towards the front of the Hall. He was dressed in robes of purest white, so that he glowed in the dim light like a beautiful spirit. Hermione was so proud of him she thought she might burst with happiness.

Suddenly, she felt something being pushed into her hand. She turned to her friend, Ginny Potter, who was thrusting a handkerchief into her palm.

"I said you'd need one," Ginny whispered, and they laughed silently through their tears, as only good friends can do.

Cobel Snape, his bearing as proud and sure as his father's, walked to the front of the Hall and faced the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who was equally resplendent in velvet and fur-trimmed dress robes of the richest, deepest black. He stood tall and straight on the dais, looking down on the crowd, and watched the tall, black-haired wizard as he approached the front of the hall.

As Cobel approached the Headmaster, the older man gave the younger a slight nod. "Alright, son?"

Cobel, the spitting image of his father, down to his black eyes, long blue-black hair and hooked nose, smiled and nodded. "Yes, Father, thank you."

As one, Severus Snape and his son, Cobel, turned back to face the audience. The Procession of Men continued as four of Cobel's school chums joined their friend at the front of the Great Hall. The first to arrive was Scorpius Malfoy, Hogwarts' newest Professor of Charms and the wizard responsible for the beautifully decorated Hall; then Barnabas Longbottom ,the son of Neville and Hannah Abbott Longbottom, followed by Al Potter and Hugo Weasley. The four men parted at the front and flanked Cobel, two on either side of the Headmaster.

They made a very handsome picture; six wizards of various ages, all in their prime, looking out solemnly into the crowd. The men wore immaculate dress robes in a maroon colour so dark, it looked black in the soft light.

For a moment, the Hall was silent, and the anticipation grew. Hermione glanced around, and saw it filled to capacity with friends and family. Seated across the room, she saw Scorpius' father, her old nemesis, Draco Malfoy, and his lovely wife. Astoria gave Hermione a happy wave, and Draco gave her a warm nod and a wink. Both had become surprisingly good friends to her and Severus over the years, and Hermione genuinely adored Scorpius, who was the most lovable of jesters, and a good friend to Cobel.

An inveterate prankster, who rivaled the Weasley twins when it came to mischief, Scorpius had been the first to welcome Cobel to the Slytherin table when his name was first called at the Sorting Ceremony. With the famous Malfoy smirk on his lips, Scorpius had patted Cobel on the back and said, "Don't believe everything you hear about us, mate. Some of us Slytherins can actually sit down without disturbing the rod jammed up our arses."

Beside Draco, sat his father and mother, Lucius, and the aging, but still beautiful Narcissa Malfoy. They, too, had become friends after a fashion. Hermione never quite lost the feeling that Lucius thought Severus might have done better in choosing a wife, but they were kind and also loved Cobel, and for that, Hermione could tolerate Lucius' occasional superciliousness. She could still remember how it felt to think they had died of a fever. Seeing them alive and well always gave Hermione a sense of gratitude.

It also gave her a delicious sense of irony that Scorpius had taken Cobel under his wing just as Lucius had done for Severus. Thankfully, their agendas were quite different, but it was good to see that circle close in such positive way.

Hermione glanced to her other side of the room and saw her own parents watching the men closely. Aging, but still healthy, they could have written books on how to be doting grandparents. They thought Cobel was the most wonderful child, and he'd done very little to prove them wrong.

Hermione looked up at her husband, tall and regal and profoundly beautiful to her, standing like an alabaster statue at the front of the Hall. He had aged gracefully and handsomely, his long hair now streaked with white. He had worn a beard for years, and had only just decided to shave it for this occasion. Upon close observation, Hermione thought she might ask him to keep it that way. She loved the planes of his jaw line and the shape of his mouth, and unencumbered by facial hair, their allure appealed to Hermione all over again.

Her gazed shifted to their son, standing tall and quietly proud beside his father. They were so alike, Hermione was often amazed she'd contributed any genes at all to her handsome child. He had inherited both parents' keen intellect and powerful magical footprint, and like his father, he could be moody, snarky and loveable in turns. His singing voice was legendary at Hogwarts. He had indeed inherited the famous Snape nose, but, as with his father, Hermione could find nothing about it that was anything but pleasing. She admittedly spoiled him, but no more than his father did.

Cobel was like his father in countenance and personality, but Severus always said that his son had inherited his mother's sense of justice and compassion, even if he did hide it most of the time beneath a very familiar scowl. Hermione suppressed a grin.

In his white robes, Cobel looked ethereal, otherworldly, and for a moment, Herimone was reminded of the Black-Eyed Angel who had tried to steal her from her husband. Cobel, she decided, was her true Black-Eyed Angel. This Black-Eyed Angel had not been created from fear or envy. He'd been created with love, and, in return, love was what he gave back to everyone.

Hermione was brought back to the present as the Procession of the Maidens began, and the four men who stood with Cobel were soon joined by four lovely women: Rose, Roxanne, Dominique and Lucy Weasley. Rose, Ron's daughter, was a sweet, rather plain girl who reminded Hermione absurdly of her grandmother, Molly Weasley, who sat with their large, extended family just behind Hermione.

Roxanne, George's daughter, was the spitting image of her mother, Angelina, the pretty Quidditch chaser on Harry's team in school. Roxanne was a tall, leggy brunette with olive skin. Scorpius Malfoy was currently courting her.

Dominique and Lucy were the youngest of the quartet, and Hermione saw their fathers, Bill and Percy Weasley, looking on with pride, as their young daughters walked down the aisle with the grace and solemnity of their older cousins. All of the women were dressed in burgundy velvet robes. Their hoods were trimmed in fur, and they carried lush bouquets of dark red roses, from the Hogwarts greenhouses. They arrived at the front of the Hall, and took their place beside each man, save Cobel. Finally, the Procession complete, they turned and faced the audience, their eyes bright and shining.

Beautiful, wild celtic music soared into the air. The Hall door flew open, and the crowd turned as one to greet the newest arrivals. Hermione and Ginny Potter both sighed, along with the crowd, as Harry Potter, grinning like an excited first-year, escorted his youngest child down the aisle. Lily Potter and Cobel Snape were to be married today, this Christmas day.

It had come as no real surprise to either Hermione or Severus when Cobel announced his engagement to Harry and Ginny Potter's vivacious, pretty, red-haired daughter. From the moment he'd met Lily Potter, Cobel was smitten. She was two years older, already a third-year student, but it didn't stop him from seeking her out and introducing himself. The Snape men, Hermione thought wryly, definitely had a thing for Gryffindor gingers.

The supreme irony of it all left Severus speechless, and as the inseparable couple grew up and finished their education, it never occurred to anyone that they would not marry. When Lily was asked by friends why she'd chosen the quiet, taciturn, younger Cobel, her blue eyes would twinkle mischievously as she said her oft-repeated explanation: "I decided to chase him until he caught me." Apparently the Evans girls had a thing for black-haired, black-eyed Slytherins as well.

At first, Severus seemed anxious, and not entirely happy about the union. At the onset, Hermione thought it might just be the physical resemblances of Cobel and Lily Potter to himself and Lily Evans that unnerved him. Hermione soon dismissed this. Severus' reticence had nothing to do with the past; it was all about the couple's future.

Severus had always been a man who measured every step he took, every movement he made, every expression he wore, by how he thought he was perceived by others. By the time he had grown into adulthood, he automatically carried himself as if he were constantly being observed, even when alone. It made him damnably difficult to read, even when he was not trying to be this cryptic.

Hermione frowned. "Is it the age difference, Severus? I've always thought Cobel to be mature for his age-"

Severus shook his head. "No. To be honest, I can't really articulate it. Please understand, pet, it's not that I don't approve, it's just..." He frowned into his teacup, and Hermione waited patiently, understanding him enough to know he was too ashamed to admit the real reason why.

When Cobel had first told his father that he had asked Lily Potter to marry him, Severus had all but interrogated him at wandpoint about his feelings for Lily. Did he want children? Were they compatible? Was she good to him? Did they accept one another, warts and all?

Finally, Cobel, who knew his father as well, or even better than his mother, pierced through the pointed questions with one of his own. He and Lily had, after all, grown up on the great stories of the war. "Father, you're asking me if I really love her. If my feelings are sure and sincere. That's what you really need to know, isn't it?"

Severus stiffened, then sighed, his rigid posture relaxing. "Yes, son. You are young, but love is no respecter of age. I'm living proof of that," he said, dryly. He sobered. "But I would be remiss in my duties as your father if I didn't make sure your intentions were honorable.

"Like every father in the world worth his wand, I don't want you to make the same mistakes I made in my youth. I loved imperfectly, and it cost Lily's grandmother her life."

He looked at his son with troubled eyes. "Cobel, do you love Lily more than anything in this world? More than youself, more than your mother or me? Do you love her enough to protect her from the Black-Eyed Angel?"

Cobel looked at his Father, and a soft smile played about his lips. He shook his long black hair out of his face and allowed his Father to occlude into his mind. For several moments neither spoke, only gazed into one another eyes. Finally Severus gently broke the connection and nodded.

Cobel smiled. "Father, if it means anything to you, Lily is my Hermione Granger." Severus looked at his son with love and respect, and Cobel saw tears shining in his father's eyes. They were rare, and all the more precious for it.

He touched his father's arm. "I promise, you, Father, I will love her as much as you love Mother. And I will make her as happy as you've made Mum."

Severus pulled his nose, and sniffed slightly. They embraced. "Then you have my blessing, son. Now run along and see your mother."

Knowing Severus by now as well as she did, Hermione knew it was her task to pull this from him, to give him permission to admit it. "It's because of that lie you told Harry, isn't it? It still frets you to this day."

Severus looked at his wife solemnly and nodded. "I have to speak with him. Before the wedding. He has to know the truth."

"Yes."

"Headmaster! Come in! It's a pleasure to see you," Harry Potter said, opening his home to his one-time arch-enemy. "How's Hermione? Good! Come to discuss wedding plans? I'm afraid we'll have to wait until Ginny and Lily get back. They've gone to Diagon Alley for a gown fitting, and apparently I'm not allowed to have an opinion one way or the other without at least one of them present." He smiled and escorted Severus into a light and airy front room, overflowing with comfortable chairs and sofas. He poured them tea from a waiting pot.

Severus sat down and took the proffered cup, more to have something to do with his hands than from real thirst. "Actually, Harry, I'm here to discuss something with you." He looked up at the younger man, who was already twenty years older than James had been before he died. "There's something I should have told you a long time ago. It's about your mother and me."

For the better part of three hours, Severus told Harry the entire story of his mother and Severus' real relationship. He told Harry of the deception, and the remorse and the regret of being Dumbledore's stooge throughout it all. Harry listened quietly, asked few questions, and nodded encouragement.

When the story was told, Severus sat, his head bowed, waiting for the retribution that never came. Finally, Harry ran a hand through his thinning hair, and pushed his round glasses back up his nose. "Well, Headmaster, if you feel the need to ask forgiveness, I won't accept it."

"I quite understand, Harry," Severus said, looking into the fire, his expression resigned.

Harry shook his head. "I won't accept it because I don't think you've done anything to ask forgiveness for. You did what you were ordered to do. I've come to understand that Dumbledore did that a lot, with all of us, especially you. It doesn't matter about your feelings for my mother; you did everything you could to try and save my family. Riddle would have found us eventually. I don't blame you, and haven't for a very long time."

Severus' relief was palpable. It showed in his slightly relaxed posture, the relaxing of tension around his dark eyes. "Thank you, Harry," Severus said, guilt and shame warring on his angular, pale face. "All these years, I've told Hermione and myself the lie was a better truth. I was too much of a coward. About so many things."

"Please, sir, don't say that, sir." Harry's face flushed, as he remembered his own harsh words to this man, spoken in anger and pain so long ago. He tried to smooth over the years by saying, "What is it that Hermione always says? The power of a spell is measured by its intent. Everything you did, good or bad, was done with the right intentions.

"With all due respect, Headmaster, you did what was necessary to help Dumbledore win the war. You saved me countless times, even when you didn't like me or my friends. You risked your life on a daily basis for years, spying for the side of the light. You helped defeat the most dangerous threat to our world, and nearly died yourself doing it."

Severus sat as still as stone, and Harry pressed on. "None of those are the actions of a coward, sir. Like Hermione says, it's not cowardly to be afraid; it's how a person reacts to that fear that makes the difference between a coward and a hero."

Severus favoured Harry with a smirk, and it carried within it a trace of pride. "She says a lot of things, doesn't she? My wife is a bossy little witch, but she certainly takes care of those she loves." His expression softened. "She certainly takes care of me. I can't find my wand without her now."

Severus slumped slightly, then pulled himself to his feet. "Thank you for hearing me out, Harry. I wanted to tell you this because I spoke with Cobel-"

"I know Cobel loves Lily with all his heart," Harry interjected. He risked putting a sympathetic hand on Severus' shoulder, and was surprised when the older man didn't flinch or insult him. Old habits die hard.

Harry suddenly understood Severus' true worry. "You want to know that Lily loves him as much, don't you? That she loves him...more than my mother loved you."

Severus looked at Harry for a long time, then nodded. "I could not bear to see my son suffer from unrequited love, Harry," Severus admitted quietly, his love and protectiveness for his son clearly written on his features. "I was not as... devoted to your mother as my son is to your daughter. My feelings were hurt, but Cobel would be devastated."

Harry smiled at the older man. "Headmaster, I know this: Every time someone mentions his name, Lily lights up like a Christmas tree. She thinks he's the reason birds sing every morning. And between you and me and the Apparition point, the last person who said anything disparaging about Cobel in Lily's presence almost had his bollocks hexed off, and that was her own uncle."

Severus stiffened. "Who said anything about-"

Harry laughed. "It's okay, Headmaster! Ron was winding her up, calling Cobel her 'boy-toy'. Lily set him right very quickly. Ron still covers his old feller every time somebody mentions Cobel."

Severus and Harry shared a wolfish grin, then Harry nodded. "Cobel's a great man, Headmaster. I know you're proud of him and so you should be." Harry softened. "I'll be very proud to have him as a son-in-law."

Severus stood and offered his hand. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for giving a foolish old man some peace."

Harry shook his hand warmly. "That's what family is for, Headmaster." He quieted. "I actually have a confession of my own. To be perfectly honest, I'm glad of the lie." He nodded as Severus' eyes widened, and his scowl increased.

"Truly," Harry said, earnestly. For a moment, he was the awkward boy Severus remembered. "It used to bother me, thinking that you were still in love with my mother all this time, but you went ahead and married Hermione."

"Ah," said Severus, understanding at last why Harry had seemed so concerned about their marriage in the early days. "You thought I couldn't possibly love Hermione as much as your mother, that my loyalties would always be with your mother?"

When Harry nodded, Severus relaxed. "Rest assured, Harry, I love Hermione with all my heart. I lost my heart to her the moment she took the stand to defend me after the war, and it's belonged to her ever since."

Harry nodded, and Severus was surprised to find tears standing in the younger man's eyes. Finally, a smile playing about his lips, Harry said, "After all this time, Severus?"

Severus nodded, and, shaking Harry's hand, they both put the past behind them forever. "Always."

"Friends and family, it is my happy task to preside over this ceremony on this Christmas Day. I thank you for coming to the biggest birthday party I've ever thrown for my son."

There was laughter in the room, and Cobel smiled at his bride-to-be.

Severus sobered as he continued, "Today, Cobel and Lily stand before you to declare their undying love, by joining together in this formal and binding ceremony. They have entered into this bonding with reverence and respect for one another, and I am honoured to preside over this rite for them." Severus caught Hermione's eye in the crowd, and she felt her heart swell with love for him.

Cobel and Lily stepped together, and joined hands. Gazing into one another's eyes, they glowed with beauty, and their magic swirled around them. Cobel began the ceremony, his speaking voice as rich and captivating as his father's.

"There is a sonnet by Shakespeare that says 'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove... it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken'."

He turned and, still holding his bride's hands, addressed the witnesses. "I know what love is. My parents, Severus and Hermione Snape, show me what love is, every day of their lives. It is my model for the life I will share with Lily. I was brought up in a family in which love, respect and affection were treasured and shared each and every moment of my life."

He turned to Lily, who was visibly moved. "Lily, I will make our lives together a shining example of what love is. No storm will destroy it, nothing outside of us can influence it or cheapen it. Our children will know love each and every day of their lives, just as I have known it. And until the day I step through the veil, you will know what love is, as well."

With streaming eyes, Hermione looked up at her husband, and saw tears standing in Severus' eyes as well. It was not just that they loved each other so much. The true legacy had been that their love had transcended themselves and their past, and had imprinted itself on their son.

She stood on the West Wing Tower, looking out onto a beautiful, wild Christmas Evening in Scotland...

She shivered in the cold, and watched the snow falling, her heart brimming with happiness.

"It is a beautiful view, isn't it?"

Hermione smiled that he could still come upon her unawares, even after all these years. Without looking around, Hermione nodded. "It is. I used to come here as a student." Mischievously, she added. "I would stand here and look out onto the Black Lake and daydream about one of my professors."

"Indeed?" he drawled, and she felt the heat from his body as he moved close to her. Strong, warm arms wrapped around her from behind. A hand gently caressed her breast, and his thumb brushed across a nipple, causing it to swell. Long fingers teased it to an aching peak, plucking it until she gasped with pleasure. "Do tell, Miss Granger. Which lucky professor was the subject of these fantasies?"

Hermione giggled. "My dark, brooding, snarky DADA professor." She squealed as he rewarded her answer with a snarl. He placed a biting, sucking kiss on her neck. "So the rumours about you being a vampire are true!" she laughed, as he nuzzled her neck with his large nose.

"I should do worse, vixen," he growled playfully, and she hummed in pleasure, smiling that, even after all this time, he could still turn her into a puddle of lust with a loving caress, a silken purr. "You are a block of ice, little one." Soft kisses trailed across her cheek, and the shiver they produced had nothing to do with the cold.

A warm, silky voice murmured close to her ear, "Cobel and Lily are almost ready to leave for the honeymoon. He wants to say goodbye before they go."

"Of course."

He took her hand and they walked the long hall together. "Knut for your thoughts."

Hermione looked up at him with an expression in mock displeasure. "You've gone cheap on me. You used to offer at least a Sickle."

Severus smirked. "I'll pay you back in trade."

They laughed together. Suddenly Hermione stopped and turned to her husband, and put her arms around his waist. "I was just thinking about the Black-Eyed Angel."

"Merlin forbid." Severus' eyebrow rose in suspicion. "What on earth would make you think of that?"

Hermione pondered it. "It's Christmas. I remember so vividly that Christmas when he tried to take you away from me. Instead of destroying us, he made us stronger. He freed us. He freed you."

Severus nodded. He took her face in his hands, and planted a slow, sensuous kiss on her cold lips. "It's been a long time since we've made a night flight," he whispered. "Perhaps after the children leave we could take to the air and..."

"Shag each other senseless when we return?" His answering smirk made her toes curl in anticipation.

"It would seem the logical conclusion to the evening, Mistress Snape."

Hermione gave Severus a deep kiss, full of love and trust, of promise and passion. He returned it, sweetening it with his soft moans of pleasure, his tongue easing into her mouth with sensual, decadent fire.

Reluctantly, Hermione ended the kiss while reason allowed. "Come, husband. Let's say goodbye to our son, then take me to the stars." She grinned at him tantalizingly. "In every way."

Severus smiled down at his wife of thirty years. She was still as beautiful to him as she had been as an eighteen-year-old, bullying the Wizengamot into accepting his innocence. She was still bossy, but mostly on the subject of badgering him into taking better care of himself. He secretly liked it when she fussed over him, although he pretended not to. Her hair was still as wild and wonderful, though it had a bit of silver within the gold.

She was a little rounder, but he could still cup her soft, pert little bottom in the palms of his hands, and it still made them both shiver when he did.

He still sang to her every night, and his voice still seduced and gentled her. All his songs were his own now. At her suggestion, he had published several, and his Magical Lullabies were on the Wizardboard Top Ten. Hermione was so proud of him. He found he was allowed to be proud of himself.

He burned for her as brightly now as he had the first night she'd gone on her knees before him, to 'take the edge off'. He'd not taken her in the West Wing Tower on that first night, but he had several times since. The last time was just a week before Cobel's wedding, and he'd had to triple the strength of his Silencing Spell to keep her from waking the castle and putting the entire school on high alert.

Hermione was the same, randy little minx she'd been that first night, and he never tired of pleasuring her. Severus still found her scent and taste as potent and intoxicating as Amortentia. He could still make her come when he called her his 'good girl.'

Severus was still, and would always be, a mass of contradiction. Moody and passionate, soft and inflexible, stubborn and generous, romantic and ascerbic. He was the same, sexy wizard who'd talked dirty to her that first night, and she never tired of cradling him to her breast after their love was spent and sleepy.

Severus gathered her in his arms, and pressed her close to his chest. She was his angel. The only angel he would ever need or desire.

And their son, their true Black-Eyed Angel, was downstairs, waiting on them so that he, too, could take flight with his bride.

They walked the darkened halls in silence. Occasionally, she would lean against him as they walked, and he would place a soft kiss on the top of her head. Her hand never left his as they walked back to their life together.

~FIN~