Be Not Afraid

A/N: Happy Friday, lovely readers. I'm going to make this note brief so that you can get on with the chapter, which I think is one of my very favourites. I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you for your continued support. Your reviews still make my day every time. I have a busy weekend ahead, but if you bribe me, I'll do everything in my power to have the next chapter up on Monday. Heck, Sunday if I can manage it. Bribes will be accepted in the form of reviews, but chocolate and tea are also permissible.

Have a great weekend,

LB x

As Adam early in the morning,

Walking forth from the bower refresh'd with sleep,

Behold me where I pass, hear my voice, approach,

Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass,

Be not afraid of my body.

- Walt Whitman, As Adam Early in the Morning

***

Another month had passed since Hermione and Theodore's divorce, and Hermione walked Kensington High Street alone amongst the other shoppers, the Christmas lights twinkling elegantly above her.

It would soon be dusk, and, having finished her shopping, she discreetly Transfigured her shopping bags into a handful of silver coins and stowed them in the pocket of her thick winter coat. Her cheeks were raw from the cold evening air, and she pulled her scarf more tightly around her face in an effort to ward off the chill.

Slipping her gloved hands into her pockets, she crossed the busy street and headed towards Kensington Gardens, desirous of a brisk walk in the park before the gates were closed at sundown.

As she thought about her current dilemma, she walked until she came to the statue of Peter Pan. She smiled as she looked up at the dark figure of the boy who never grew up, his pipe in hand, fairies and animals clinging to the column below. Her father had taken her to this exact spot many times during the summers of her childhood, and as she had stood before the statue she had often wished for someone to come and take her away to Neverland, to the fairies and the pirates and the mermaids. How tame the idea of Neverland now seemed in comparison with the magical world of wizards and elves and centaurs. She had found her fantasy world, after all.

She continued to gaze at the statue, wondering what moment of inspiration had resulted in Peter Pan's creation. J. M Barrie's understanding of the male psyche had been accurate. In many ways, Hermione thought there was a little of the boy who never grew up in almost every man. Despite marriage and babies, Harry and Ron were still as boyish as ever, making any excuse to grab a Quaffle and head out to the garden with their brooms. Draco was still a clown, and Lance, regardless of his one-hundred-and-five years, was still obsessed with Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

Her thoughts turned to Severus, and, with a frown, she realised how very different he was, in some respects, to all the other men in her life. She certainly couldn't imagine the austere, black-clad Severus knocking a Quaffle around on a Sunday afternoon, or dressing in lilac like Lance, just to cause a scene. In many ways, Severus wasn't afraid of growing up. But he was afraid of his own feelings.

After staring at the statue for another moment, she jumped as the clanging of a loud bell announced that the park was about to close. Turning, she made her way to the gates, but stopped as a small barn owl alighted from a nearby tree and swooped towards her, dropping a folded piece of parchment into her hands with a screech.

Hermione walked on as she unfurled the note and peered at the script through the gloom. Grinning, she hurried on. The note was from Susan and Draco, announcing the slightly early but safe arrival of their infant son earlier that day. She hoped for Draco's sake that he'd held his wise-cracking tongue while Susan was in labour.

Just before she reached the gates, a larger owl landed on the back of a wooden bench in front of her. It dropped another letter onto the seat and clicked its beak impatiently at her, taking off as soon as her fingers touched the parchment. It was almost too dark to see, so she stood under the glow of a streetlamp to read her second letter, and she gasped aloud in delight: Harry and Ginny's baby had arrived within an hour of Draco and Susan's. She chuckled as she read the names they'd chosen for their second son, and made her way back to Kensington Square. Severus would not at all be pleased.

***

Severus looked up from his paperwork with a satisfied smile as Hermione crossed his study. How he loved his Saturdays. Cordelia was rarely in London on a Saturday, and despite the fact that he and Hermione generally went their separate ways in the morning, the evening was always theirs, as was the night.

He put down his quill as she unbuttoned her coat and hung it on the back of the chair in front of his desk, taking her seat with her legs tucked beneath her. Her cheeks were a becoming shade of pink from the cold evening air.

"Have you heard from the Malfoys?" she asked, grinning.

He picked up a length of blue parchment and waved it at her. "Indeed I have. Lucius proudly announced the arrival of his grandson just over an hour ago. He assumes the child will be the newest addition to Slytherin House, of course."

Hermione chuckled. "So Susan doesn't get a say at all? We'll see!"

"What do you make of the unfortunate child's name?"

"Draco didn't mention the name in his letter!" Hermione said with a gasp. She reached forward to grab the letter from Severus's hand.

He held it out of her reach and announced, "Scorpius Abraxas Phineas Lucius John Malfoy."

"Scorpius?" Hermione shrieked. "Scorpius? I thought that was a joke!"

Severus smirked. "I was more amused by the baffling inclusion of John. Draco's idea of humour, no doubt."

"He must have Confounded Susan," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Really, Severus. The girl can't possibly be in her right mind. He's Confounded her, or poisoned her or something."

Severus laughed at her expression. "The Malfoys have always had questionable taste in names."

Hermione gave a sigh, but then beamed as she remembered her other item of news. "Harry and Ginny's son arrived today, too."

Severus grunted. "Another male Potter... I'm ecstatic."

"And while we're on the subject of names," she added, "you'll never guess what they've called him?"

He rolled his eyes. "Something dreadful, no doubt: Sirius."

She shook her head.

"Remus."

"No."

"Prince James the Second ..."

Hermione giggled and shook her head again.

"I don't know," he said gruffly. "Petunia; Dobby; Tom Marvolo."

She snorted. "Even worse."

"Worse than Tom Marvolo? I've no idea; please enlighten me."

"Albus."

Severus groaned and raised his hands to his face. "I feel positively nauseous."

"Albus Severus," she said.

"Yes, I know, I heard you the first time," he said.

She shook her head again and laughed. "No, I mean that's his full name: Albus Severus Potter," she said with a grin, pronouncing every syllable clearly.

Severus's face fell. "What?" he snarled.

Hermione smirked. "Aren't you honoured?"

"Honoured?" he spat. "My name gets thrown into a mixing bowl along with Albus and Potter and I'm supposed to be pleased?" He stood up. "Where does Potter live?"

Hermione doubled over with laughter. "Severus, sit down, you arse."

"They have no right to do that. How ... How dare they!"

"I wish you could see yourself right now," Hermione said, her hands on her stomach. "Please sit down, Severus. My sides hurt."

"Well, I'm delighted to be such a source of hilarity," he snapped, taking his seat again. "What were they thinking? You'll have to insist they retract this."

"I will not insist they retract it, Severus," she said, becoming serious. "The child has been named, and that's that. I'm sure it's Harry's way of thanking you."

"Thanking me? Thanking me for what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For all the times you saved his life; for all the other lives you saved over the years; for playing a vital role in saving the wizarding world."

"Stupid Gryffindor sentimentality," he grumbled.

She arched an eyebrow. "What about stupid Slytherin sentimentality? You offered me the job out of a sense of debt; you sorted out Neville's parents out of a sense of debt. This is Harry's way of honouring the things you have done."

Severus grunted. "And so another generation of wizards becomes lumbered with contemptible names. Well, I hope Malfoy and Potter's sons never forgive their parents."

Hermione smiled. "It took me quite some time to forgive my parents. I hated my name when I was young, but I rather like it now."

He returned her smile. "It is a touch eccentric, perhaps, but very pretty." He raised his index finger and beckoned her to him, his anger abating.

She walked around his desk and sat on his lap. "What did you do today?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Nothing but paperwork," Severus said, one arm around her waist. "You?"

"I made one of my impromptu visits to Neville's parents thing this morning."

"Was everything to your satisfaction?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, their care is really excellent, and they seem perfectly happy. I sent a note to Neville to let him know, and then I started some Christmas shopping."

"It's not even December yet," Severus said.

She shrugged. "You know me, super organised. Besides, time seems to be slipping away these days."

"Indeed it does," he agreed, thinking of the time that was left before she was subject to the Marriage law once more.

Hermione stared into the blazing fireplace across the room for some minutes. "Severus," she said eventually, "I've only four months left until I have to abide by the law again. I was wondering ... Could I have your consent to confide in Padma about ... about you and me?"

He looked at her. "Lance knows about us; Theo knows; I'm almost certain Cordelia knows," he said quietly. "It seems to me that the more people know about these things, the more likely it is that they will be uncovered."

Hermione bit her lip. Neville also knew, but she hadn't yet found the courage to tell Severus. "I know, and I agree with you. It's just ... time is running out for me, Severus, and I need a friend to talk to. I can't talk to Harry and Ginny about this; Harry could never view it objectively, not where you are concerned. Padma has always been good at viewing the bigger picture; I need a fellow female to talk to."

He eyed her troubled face, wondering what her friend would say, how she would counsel the girl sitting on his lap. "If you were insisting on telling the other Patil twin, I think I would have to Obliviate you."

Hermione chuckled. "Don't worry, Padma and Parvati are about as different as you can get."

"You're certain she can be trusted?"

She nodded. "I would trust her with my life. I know she'll tell Dean, I imagine they have no secrets, but he's as trustworthy as she is. Besides, he would have to face the wrath of Padma if he dared tell anyone, and believe me: no-one wants to make Padma angry."

He regarded her for another few seconds. "You have my consent; I understand your need for a confidante."

"Thank you, Severus," she said, tucking her head beneath his chin with a satisfied sigh. "I wonder who Albus Severus Potter looks like."

Severus's growl made her smile.

***

The following evening, Hermione answered her front door, more nervous than she had been for quite some time. She smiled as Padma stepped into the hallway, shaking out her umbrella and stowing her gloves in her pockets.

"I hope Dean didn't mind me stealing you for the evening," Hermione said, closing the door behind her friend.

"Not at all," Padma said cheerfully, following Hermione towards the stairs. "He's taken the girls over to his aunt's house for a visit."

They descended to the kitchen, where Hermione had already set the table. "I made some of that vegetable soup you like and some sandwiches."

"Sounds good to me," Padma said, removing her coat and laying it across the chair next to her.

Hermione shot her an admiring glance. "You've completely got your figure back!"

Padma patted her stomach. "Yes, well, it did take nine long months. Nine months to get huge, and nine to get slim again!"

"Would you have another one?" Hermione asked, ladling the soup into two bowls.

Padma nodded. "We've agreed we'd like another baby, but not for a while yet, not until the twins are three. With such a high incidence of twins in the family, I'm not risking anything less than a three-year gap."

Hermione grinned. "Two sets of twins; now that would be interesting."

Padma rolled her eyes. "Not to mention exhausting, infuriating and unbelievably expensive. Can you imagine if they were twin boys? I'd have no hand-me-downs from the girls, and four sets of Hogwarts uniforms to buy." She watched Hermione curiously as she carried the soup to the table. "What did you want to talk about? I've been intrigued by your note all day."

Hermione sat at the table and took a deep breath. "Do you promise you won't hex me?"

Padma's eyes widened. "I'll do my best."

Hermione began drinking her soup, avoiding Padma's gaze. "Well, I only have four months left to sort my life out, and I want your advice."

Padma sighed. "To be honest, Hermione, I'm not sure my advice is worth much. Don't forget I was the one who told you to just jump in there with the Marriage Act and encouraged you to marry Theo. It worked out well for me, but there are loads of unhappy couples out there, and I've never forgiven myself for talking you into the Marriage Law."

"Padma!" Hermione said, surprised. "Don't feel like that! It's what I wanted: I wanted to stay in Britain; I wanted to be happy like everybody else. You said yourself it was pot luck at the end of the day, and I was just one of the unlucky ones. I'm glad it happened the way it did. If I hadn't married Theo, I wouldn't own this house; I wouldn't have a job that I love. And I certainly would never have ..." She looked down into her soup, her cheeks flushing.

Padma stopped, her spoon half way to her mouth. "It's to do with Snape, isn't it? That's what you wanted to talk about."

Hermione looked up, her heart pounding at the thought of how her friend might react. "I've felt so, so deceptive over the past few months, Padma. There were so many times when I badly wanted to tell you ... But I'd promised him, you see ..."

Padma finally swallowed her mouthful of soup and shrugged. "I've kind of known there was something going on for months now."

Hermione gaped. "You knew?"

"I didn't know, but I suspected. You used to talk about him all the time ... It was 'Severus said this' and 'Severus did that'. But after that ball in the summer, after you'd told me how you felt about him, you suddenly stopped talking about him, and you've avoided the subject every time I tried to bring it up. I assumed that the reason was because something had happened between you, so I decided to let you bring it up in your own time."

"Well, aren't you the clever girl?"

"I am a Ravenclaw, after all," Padma said, grinning. "So, go on ... Spill the beans."

Hermione bit into a sandwich, relieved her confession wasn't going to come as a huge shock. "Do you remember that chat we had, the day after the ball?" Padma nodded, and Hermione continued. "Well, I took your advice, and I decided that it was an impossible situation, and that I had to start getting over him. But a few days later, my hairclip came loose while I was in the middle of a really complex potion, and I asked him to tie my hair back. He wasn't pleased, but when he scooped my hair back, without any warning at all, he just kissed my neck. Next minute, we were kissing, and then ... One thing led to another. I still have no idea what made him do it."

Padma raised an eyebrow. "One thing led to another? In the laboratory?"

Hermione was mortified. "Well, yes."

Padma giggled. "Steamy!"

Hermione gave her an embarrassed grin and hid her face in her hands. "You're embarrassing me. I'll spare you the sordid details. Anyway, we had a bit of an argument, and I ran away, but to cut quite a long story short, we came to an agreement, and we've been together since that day."

"So, you've been shagging him senseless in that dungeon?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her cheeks burning. "No, I haven't: that was part of the agreement. With the exception of one or two nights, we've limited the 'shagging', as you so romantically put it, to weekends when Cordelia is away. And it's a basement, not a dungeon."

Padma looked intrigued. "And is he a good shag?"

"Padma!"

Padma giggled again. "Well, is he a good snog?"

"Padma, stop," Hermione said.

"Oh, come on," Padma moaned. "You didn't tell me about this for months; you could at least tell me whether or not he's a good snog."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay, he's a fabulous snog. Satisfied?"

Padma clapped her hands together excitedly. "Oooh! I thought he would be. And I bet he has a seriously sexy bedroom voice. Does he?"

Hermione shook her head. "I thought you were against me seeing him?"

"Well, it's too late for that now ... What's done is done. I might as well get all the juicy details."

"Have I ever given you the juicy details about my previous boyfriends?"

"No, you haven't," Padma admitted. "Is that what he is? Your boyfriend?"

Hermione laughed and wrinkled her nose. "Boyfriend is not a word that suits Severus Snape, is it? I don't know what I'd call him at this stage; we're certainly not committed enough for me to call him a partner."

"Lover, then. Your secret lover ... How exciting!"

Hermione put down her spoon. "You don't know how fantastic it is to have a decent chat about all of this. It was all so simple at the start; it was just a fling, really. It might sound strange, but while both of us were married it was all less complex, somehow. We didn't have to worry about the future or about commitment, because neither of us was free and single. But now, since Theo and I divorced, things have changed."

"Have they just changed for you, or has it changed for both of you?" Padma asked.

"For both of us. I suppose we've both had a lot of thinking to do, and with only four months left until I have to marry again or leave the country, it's changed everything. It was all quite light-hearted for the first two months. Well, as light-hearted as it can be where Severus is concerned. What I mean to say is that it was a bit of a no-strings-attached sort of relationship."

"You mean it was all about the sex?" Padma said with a smirk.

Hermione's colour deepened. "Well, yes ... I suppose it was. We were friends and colleagues at work, and at the weekends it was all about the sex. That's not to say we didn't make any progress. You know the kind of thing: we've shared meals; we've shared showers; we've talked into the small hours of the morning. He's told me a lot more about his past; it's much easier to understand where he's coming from, now."

"How has it changed, then? Since the divorce ..."

Hermione sighed, wondering how she could explain it. "It's become ... quieter, somehow. I don't know how to describe it ... We seem to spend more time just holding hands, sitting in front of a fire ... He strokes my hair. It's almost as if it's become more meaningful. I feel as though ..." She paused, knowing her eyes were filling, but determined not to cry. "As though we're both conscious that time is running out, and we're trying to savour what little we have left of it."

Padma pushed her empty bowl away from her. "Have you discussed what's going to happen?"

"No. Not at all. We've been avoiding the issue."

"What do you want, Hermione?"

She shrugged, and despite her best efforts to control herself, a tear slipped down her cheek. "I want him; I want Severus. Marrying a man I didn't love in order to abide by the law was one thing; marrying someone else while I feel like this about Severus is an impossibility. I couldn't do it, not while I feel like this about him."

"And has he given you any sign that he wants a future with you? Does he love you, Hermione?"

She sighed deeply. "He's never told me he loves me, but one night we had a terrible argument, and I packed my bags ... I fully intended leaving. But he told me ... He said ..."

"Yes," Padma said encouragingly.

Hermione looked up at her friend. "He said he had no idea what he would do without me. He begged me not to leave."

Padma gave her a small smile. "That sounds promising. But what about his wife? Is he willing to ask her for a divorce?"

"We've never spoken about it. I really and truly have no idea what he wants. Lancelot thinks I need to confront him about it, that I need to demand he divorces her or else I'll leave, but I don't think that's the right way to go about it."

"Hmmm," Padma said, chewing thoughtfully on a cheese sandwich. "From what little I know of Snape, I'm not sure that's the right way to go about things. Maybe he needs more time, but unfortunately, time is not something you can afford."

"I've no idea what I should do."

Padma looked at her across the table. "You really love him, don't you? I can hardly believe it ... Severus Snape, tormentor of first-years and big bat of the dungeons ... You love him."

Hermione smiled. "Hard to believe, isn't it? He can still be nasty, he hates children, he's scared of attachment, and I still want him."

"You see, Hermione," Padma said softly. "That's what worries me ... I want you to have someone kind, loving and gentle; someone who wants what you want; someone who'll give you a family. In a strange sort of way, I understand why you love him, but I don't know if he's the right person."

Hermione looked down, thinking of all the times he had shown her kindness and patience over the past year, of what he had done for Neville. "I know it seems unlikely, but underneath it all he is one of the kindest, most loving and caring people I've ever met. He says he's never wanted children, and that's a problem, but I love him. I would be willing to give that up for him."

"Have you told him you love him?"

"No," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "I wouldn't do that unless I was certain he loved me, too."

Padma rubbed her forehead. "Okay, let's be practical. If he sought a divorce, is it likely his wife would give him one?"

"Look, I didn't tell you this before because Cordelia was my mother-in-law, but now she's not. She's been involved with another man, Everard Monroe, since before her first husband died. She had to observe a period of mourning after Theo's father died, and then the Marriage Law came along. She couldn't marry Everard as he is also a pure-blood, but they are still very much a couple."

"Does Severus know about this?"

Hermione nodded. "He knew about it before he married her. But the most important thing is that Cordelia is older than Severus. She will turn fifty at the end of next August, and the law will no longer apply to her. She'll be free to divorce Severus and marry Everard."

"But she can divorce before she turns fifty...she'll have six months before she has to marry again ..." Padma paused and counted on her fingers. She grinned. "She could divorce Severus at the end of February, and you don't have to marry again until the middle of March!"

"But there's no guarantee that she'll grant him a divorce ... and she's forbidden from marrying Everard until she officially turns fifty. It would be just like her to make Severus wait until then, by which time it'll be too late for me. Even when she turns fifty, who's to say she'll let him have a divorce? She suspects something's up between me and Severus, and it would be exactly like her to refuse him a divorce because she's so possessive."

"Look, no matter what she's like, and no matter how nasty she gets, it's certainly better than her being five years away from fifty ... At least there's some hope of him being free from her in the not too distant future. If she won't grant him a divorce in February, maybe you could just go abroad for a few months until Severus is free."

"Look, this is all null and void, Padma. It doesn't really matter what Cordelia wants; it's what Severus wants that's more important. And I'm clueless as to whether or not he wants me."

They fell silent for a moment, until Padma said, "Okay. If it all goes wrong, and he's not willing to commit, what will you do?"

"I'll leave the country. I can't go for another marriage of convenience. I would move abroad, get a job, and pour all my energies into mounting a massive legal campaign against the Ministry of Magic until they repeal this ridiculous law. There are quite a few activists working against it, and if the Daily Prophet is to be believed, they're making serious progress."

"I can't say I'd blame you. France is still free of the law, and we have lots of contacts there. That's option number one. Now, let's say he decides he wants you, but Cordelia won't grant him a divorce. What will you do then?"

"Well, if that happens and he truly wants to be with me," Hermione said, hardly daring to hope such a thing might come true, "I would hope he'd be willing to leave the country with me and live on the continent...continue our business over there. I'm not sure what the situation would be financially ... I hope Cordelia's money isn't too tied up in his business."

"Okay," Padma said. "That's option number two. And if she grants him a divorce?"

"Then we live happily ever after." Hermione smiled. "Or at least we do most of the time, when he's not in a foul humour."

"Right," Padma said, looking suddenly business-like. "Option one is a last resort, and options two and three are more preferable. The problem, it would seem, is Severus. So, what do we do about him?"

Hermione crossed her arms and thought for a moment. "I can either force the issue, or I can wait. My head tells me I should sit down with him, discuss it like a rational adult, and give myself more time to sort my life out."

"And your heart?" Padma asked.

Hermione gave her a sad smile. "My heart tells me I have to wait; I have to give him more time to decide how he feels. I'm free and single; the ball is in his court, now."

Padma sighed. "I can't believe I've changed my mind about a man from whom I once thought you should run a million miles. But who am I to stand in the path of true love?" She frowned at Hermione. "At the risk of sounding awfully like the lyrics of a Celestina Warbeck song, I really do think you need to follow your heart."

"No matter what the outcome?"

Padma nodded. "No matter what the outcome. You've decided you're not going to marry somebody else regardless of what happens with Severus, so give him more time."

Hermione gave her a grateful smile.

"And no matter what happens," Padma added, "you'll have my support. And Dean's. We'll help you in any way we can."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, too choked up to speak properly.

"Are we going to cry again, now?" Padma asked, already wiping her eyes.

Hermione laughed through her tears, overcome with joy to know she had her best friend's blessing. "Don't we always?"

***

Another two weeks passed in a whirlwind of visiting new-born babies and preparing for Christmas.

Hermione smiled as Severus began his customary post-coital stroking of her hair. It was a Sunday morning, and they had three hours left to them before she was due to meet her parents at her aunt's house for Sunday lunch.

"I don't suppose there's any chance you could cancel this appointment with your parents?" Severus asked, running his fingers through her curls.

Hermione gazed at him, glad he was so keen to spend the afternoon with her. "I'm afraid not," she said with a sigh. "I haven't seen them for weeks, and I've turned down the last three invitations to my aunt's house."

"In that case," he said with a smirk, "I'm glad we managed to fit in such an action-packed morning."

She chuckled and raised herself up on one elbow. "Yes, but the morning is not yet over." Flashing him a grin, she leaned forward and planted a light kiss on his lips. She kissed her way across his cheek until she came to the sensitive spot just below his ear, knowing her attentions there always made him groan. She was not disappointed.

"You harlot," he whispered, making her smile against his skin.

Still smiling, she ran the tip of her tongue along his jaw and pressed her lips to his neck, but he pulled away from her, as was his habit. She looked at him, suddenly determined not to let him evade her.

Since the day he had finally admitted he still suffered from his injured neck, she had been certain the wounds were still visible, but that he kept them magically concealed. On those occasions when her fingers strayed to the right side of his neck, she could feel, barely discernible, the tingle of magic beneath her fingertips, and he always removed her hand or backed away from her when she got to close to the spot where she had watched Madam Pomfrey pour Dittany onto his skin in the Shrieking Shack.

Frowning, she reached forward and ran her fingertips along his cheek, trailing them down towards his neck once again. As soon as she reached two inches below his jaw, he gripped her hand and pulled it away from his skin.

"Don't," he said with an irritated grunt.

She wriggled free of his grasp and reached for his neck once more. He stopped her before she touched his skin.

"Don't," he said more forcefully, glaring at her.

She looked into his black eyes. "I won't hurt you," she said quietly.

"I know you won't hurt me," he snarled. "But I could do without reading the pity in your eyes."

He rolled away from her, but she grabbed his shoulder. "Severus, don't just turn away from me," she said angrily.

He turned to face her again, his eyes blazing.

"We've been lovers for months," she said. "Have you once, in all that time, ever known me to pity you?"

She valiantly held his gaze, his eyes boring into hers. Her heart beat increased as he continued to glare at her, and she was sure he would rise from the bed in fury. But instead, he gave a deep sigh.

"There are times when I really don't understand you," he said.

"You need to learn that there is a world of difference between pity," she said, returning her fingers to his cheek, "and concern."

Tearing her gaze from his, she trailed her way from his cheek to his neck once more. She could feel him stiffen beside her in the bed, but she continued her path to his shoulder, her touch so light that she could barely feel his skin beneath her own.

He flinched when she found it: the first of two puncture wounds. But he did not stop her this time.

Hermione concentrated on keeping the expression on her face neutral, and even when she found the first circular ridge of skin, larger and more puckered than she had expected, she did not betray any emotion. She moved her fingers further and found the second wound.

"Am I hurting you?" she whispered, aware that his gaze was fixed upon her face.

"No," he said.

Moving the pad of her thumb tenderly across the invisible lesions, she finally met his stare. She pushed a strand of black hair from his face.

"You need hide nothing from me, Severus Snape," she said quietly, hoping she wasn't pushing him too far.

He looked into her eyes with such intensity that she could almost feel him probing her mind, searching her thoughts for any trace of pity. He seemed to regard her with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, and, as if he had found something, he suddenly uttered another deep sigh.

Slowly, he reached out and took his wand from the bedside table, and she drew a deep breath, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs. She sat up straighter, allowing him to bring his hand to his neck. He whispered, "Finite Incantatum," and the charm that had concealed his scars for so long was lifted.

As Hermione drew her gaze from his face to his neck, she first felt shock and dismay. Even after all these years, the abrasions were still a livid, angry red against the wan pallor of his skin. Then she felt sad that he'd never revealed this to her before now.

Hoping she was doing the right thing, she leaned forward and, closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to the first of the rigid scars with infinite softness. She could feel the entire length of his body rigid against hers, but as she moved with the lightest of kisses to the second scar, his muscles began to relax. He pulled her tighter against him and moaned aloud.

She felt him tangle his hands in her hair, and when he gently pulled her away from his neck and looked into her eyes, that strange, probing look of curiosity had returned. He rolled her onto her back and after one more deep, lingering stare into her brown eyes, he lowered his lips to hers.

They had shared many, many kisses since that fateful morning in the laboratory, but Hermione felt a change in this kiss. This embrace was simultaneously more passionate and yet more tender than any they had shared before. She could feel hope swell within her chest, and tears of emotion sprang to her closed eyes. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, she put everything she could into the kiss, willing him to know that she loved him, that she had no desire to ever be without him. And somehow, she knew he understood.

***

Severus watched from his bedroom window as Hermione made her way across Kensington Square, the hood of her winter coat pulled up to shield her from the cold December sleet. He missed her already, and as she disappeared into the little park at the centre of the square, he realised that his hands were shaking.

Cursing this uncharacteristic lack of control over his emotions, he turned and crossed the room, throwing open the door and heading for the staircase. His footfalls echoing in the empty house, he went to his study and took his seat behind his desk, lacing his fingers together as if to somehow channel his thoughts.

He had not used Legilimency on Hermione that morning: there had been no need. As if she had spoken the words aloud, her thoughts, her innermost desires, had been laid bare in her brown eyes.

She loved him.

He had often wondered, during the weeks and months of their affair, how she felt about him. The idea that she might have formed a serious emotional attachment to him had been repugnant at one stage, but now everything had changed, and he could not quite define what, exactly, he felt.

She loved him.

Why did that thought now please him? Why did he feel such turmoil? Why did his hands tremor so?

"Moe?" he called into the silence.

The tiny elf appeared with a crack. "Yes, Master Severus?" she said, her eyes wide.

"Might I ask if you could provide me with a meal?" Severus asked, picking up his quill. "I intended to prepare something myself, but I'm snowed under with paperwork."

Moe beamed. "I has just made a nice roast beef, Master Severus, sir." She clicked her fingers and disappeared from view.

Severus tossed his quill back onto the desk. He had lied: he'd no intention of tackling any paperwork this afternoon. It was his thoughts that required attention, not his potions business.

Moe returned with a laden tray minutes later and Levitated it onto his desk.

"Many thanks, Moe," he said. "I am most grateful."

"You is welcome," she said, taking a step back from the table. "I know you is liking roast beef. Maybe it is stopping you being sad that Miss Hermione is gone, sir."

He raised an eyebrow. "And why would I be sad that Miss Hermione is gone, Moe?"

"Because she is always making you smile, Master Severus, sir," she said as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

He frowned as Moe Disapparated, thinking about her parting remark. He sneered on an almost daily basis; he smirked with great regularity; but rarely did he smile. And now that he thought about it, he had probably smiled more in the past few months than he had in the entire previous forty-five years.

Picking up his knife and fork, he began to devour his dinner. Some potions did not sit well on an empty stomach, and the one he intended to ingest was among them.

When he had finished, Severus knelt before the drinks cabinet and pushed the decanter of brandy to one side. There, at the back of the shelf, stood the small crystal phial of colourless liquid: one dose of Exostraserum.

With an unsteady hand he took the potion from the cabinet, knowing the time had come at last to face his fears.

He crossed the room and sat behind his desk once more, twirling the tiny phial between his fingers. He glanced at the calendar on his desk: it was the eighth of December, and there was only a little over three months left until Hermione would be forced to abide by the law once more or flee the country.

He had tried to convince himself that he would be happier without her in his life, that a future with Hermione Granger would cause too many complications, too much upheaval. But he recalled the night she had danced with the young German man at Cordelia's ball: The sight of her laughing in the wizard's arms had struck him like a Bludger to the stomach, and the very idea of her walking up the aisle to meet another man made him feel positively ill.

But was he willing to go through the inconvenience, financial upheaval and undoubted nastiness that a divorce from Cordelia Mill would entail? He knew, without any doubt, that Hermione loved him. Thus, it all hinged on one thing: whether or not he loved her.

He had spent his adolescence and much of his adult life harbouring an unhealthy, obsessive love for a woman who had not returned his affections, who had not found it in her heart to forgive harsh words spoken in anger. And now, for the first time in his life, he was loved by a beautiful, intelligent, beguiling young woman, and he could not figure out how he felt about her in return. The truth was, he had little experience when it came to love.

He had hurt Hermione Granger; she had forgiven him. He had told her about his past; she had not taunted him. He had lifted the concealment charm on his neck; she had not pitied him. She was the embodiment of all that was good; he did not deserve her.

Sometimes, he watched her as she slept next to him, or as she frowned in concentration over a difficult potion, and on those occasions he had often felt a tightening in his chest, a dull ache of longing. Was that love?

He eyed the Exostraserum with trepidation. Uneasy as he was about discovering how he really felt about Hermione Granger, there were other issues he had no wish to visit while under the influence of the potion. What if he still had feelings for Lily Evans? What if he discovered that he had, after all, derived enjoyment from the act of killing Albus Dumbledore? Would he feel the agony of his own soul tearing apart as he had felt it in his nightmares?

Taking a deep breath, he uncorked the phial and raised it to his lips. He closed his eyes and emptied the contents into his mouth; it was barely a mouthful, and he swallowed the bitter potion in one gulp. His eyes watered as the burning liquid made its way to his stomach, and he rose from behind his desk, crossing the room to lean on the mantelpiece as he waited for the Exostraserum to take effect.

Severus had never taken this potion before, nor had he ever witnessed anyone else do so, and he had little idea what to expect. After a few seconds, he felt the first tingling in his veins as the magical properties of the liquid began to take effect.

The first sensation was not unlike the effects of Veritaserum: he felt strangely blank, detached from himself, yet perfectly aware of his own mind. With Veritaserum, the mind remained in this state until a question was asked and the relevant pictures and emotions connected with the answer flashed before one's eyes. But in this case, he was his own interrogator, and he must do the questioning.

His first thought was of Albus Dumbledore, and as soon as the old wizard came to mind, he rocked on his feet, overwhelmed by images and memories. He examined his feelings, and knew that while he was still bitter and resentful towards the former headmaster, there had been no pleasure in the casting of that Avada Kedavra on the Astronomy Tower. There had been relief that the task was at last complete and that he was free of the Unbreakable Vow, but no enjoyment. His soul remained whole. He knew a sudden throb of euphoria, but before he could enjoy the sensation, his thoughts turned to Lily Evans.

A pang of regret made him wince, and as he remembered her when they'd first met, a girl of only eleven years, remorse thrummed through his veins. He was enveloped by fear, by a sudden longing to get away from this memory of Lily, lest he discover that he was consumed by her still.

But before he could stop it, the image of her as a young woman came to the forefront of his mind, the memory of her on that swing near Spinner's End as he had seen her while he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He looked at her face, at the green eyes that had haunted him for almost all of his adult life, and with sudden liberation he knew, for certain, that he had let go of her. He had stopped loving Lily Evans.

He lingered over the memory of her from the Shrieking Shack, trying to recall the words she had spoken: "There is somebody for you, Severus. You do not yet know it; nor does she. It will take time. Just remember this: love often comes to us in the most unlikely of places, and in the most unlikely of guises. If you choose to return, Severus, happiness will find you eventually."

His eyes flew open. Had happiness found him?

He remembered how everything had become misty again, how Lily had suddenly disappeared and how he had found himself on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack once more, Hermione bent over him, tears coursing down her cheeks.

Hermione.

Images of her began to flick through his consciousness as if on a projector. Hermione as she bent over him in the Shack; Hermione, looking apprehensive, when she had returned his memories to him in St. Mungo's; Hermione insisting that a marriage between her and Theo could work; Hermione in her wedding dress; Hermione wiping her eyes on her sleeve, accepting the position as his assistant, smiling at him in the laboratory.

And that was when the pain began: Hermione on his arm as they entered the doors of the Great Hall; Hermione on the cliff in the west of Ireland, her hair whipping about her in the sea breeze; Hermione on the roof garden in her black dress; Hermione's lips upon his own; Hermione asleep next to him, her hair fanned out across the pillow; Hermione as she had been that morning, pressing her mouth to the wounds on his neck.

Here was the pain he had anticipated; here was the agony in his chest that he had expected to feel while his soul ripped in two.

Clutching breathlessly at his sternum, he sank to his knees before the hearth. The pain was almost unbearable, yet his soul had never felt more whole, and he had never felt such elation.

For in his potion-induced state of reason and clarity, he recognised this pain for what it was.

He loved Hermione Granger.

With all his heart.