The Deeps of my Heart

A/N: To thank you for your lovely reviews, here is the next chapter early, as promised. I know it's Mother's Day in the US (we had ours in March), so Happy Mother's Day to you all. I'll have the next chapter up by Thursday.

LB x

All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,

The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,

The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing wintry mould,

Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;

I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,

With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold

For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

- W. B. Yeats, The Lover tells of the Rose in his Heart

***

Severus knelt before the fireplace, staring with unseeing eyes at the glowing embers in the grate...all that remained of the blazing fire he had lit some hours earlier. The effects of the Exostraserum were at last beginning to wear off, but as he tore his gaze from the hearth, he felt as if he were viewing his study for the first time, as if the scales had fallen from his eyes. His perspective had changed utterly, and he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

He rose stiffly from the carpet where he had knelt for over an hour and leaned against the mantelpiece, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. After a whispered incantation, the candles mounted on the walls cast their glow, brightening the gloom of the winter afternoon.

He stared at his own face in the looking glass: his skin was even paler than usual, and he had not yet replaced the concealment charm on the wounds to his neck. The puncture marks stood out against the alabaster of his skin, and he touched his fingertips to the scars, remembering how Hermione had, only hours earlier, pressed her lips to them in a gesture of acceptance and compassion.

His gaze moved to his own black eyes, and he realised he was examining the visage of a fool, the face of man who, at the age of almost forty-six years, had needed a potion to examine his own thoughts. He'd been living in denial for so many months, denial of his true desires and aspirations. It was not peace that he craved, nor wealth, nor success. He did not care, after all, for the approval of wizarding society, or for the convenient state of equilibrium in which he had lived, soullessly, for so very long.

It had taken the ingestion of a truth-potion to reveal to him the longing of his own heart: He wanted Hermione Granger. It really was that simple. He yearned for love, and happiness, and acceptance, and she alone could give him all those things. And he could offer them in return.

He loved her, and there could be no more conjecture. Looking down at his hands, he saw that the trembling had stopped. He turned and strode across the room, taking the seat behind his desk with a sigh. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he wondered how he could ever have contemplated a future in which Hermione did not feature significantly.

It was true she was not glamorous, and she might not have fit many men's definition of the word beautiful, but he remembered her that morning, brushing her curls from her face and gracing him with a tired smile, and he thought he had never seen a woman more breath-taking. She was intelligent; she was passionate; she was innately good. She was one of the most magically talented witches he had ever come across in his life, and she could be his if only he was willing to lay his heart on the line.

He frowned as his thoughts turned to his wife. Cordelia would not easily agree to a divorce. Of that he was certain, especially if she discovered her suspicions were true and he had been involved with Hermione. His skills in espionage had proven fruitful over the years, however, and he had amassed a number of chips with which to bargain his way out of his marriage. Cordelia might not be the insurmountable obstacle that she appeared.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, dread washing over him at the thought of the inevitable confrontation that lay before him. Whether it took place now or in a few months' time, it would not be an enjoyable experience, and his wife had, after all, the might of her Ministry of Magic friends behind her. A request for a divorce would make his life difficult indeed. Was Hermione worth the struggle?

He imagined her walking down the aisle to meet another man, and he rose determinedly from his seat. Straightening his coat, he strode to the door. There was much to be arranged. Hermione Granger would be his. He was damned if some nameless stranger was going to rob him of the woman he loved.

***

There were only seven days left until Christmas, and Hermione had no idea what to get for Severus. Giving it up as an impossible task, she left Harrods and walked in the direction of Kensington Square. There were only fifteen minutes left of her lunch break, and her impromptu shopping excursion had proved fruitless.

Severus's behaviour since the morning she'd persuaded him to remove the concealment charm from his neck had puzzled her. He had become quieter, more sedate in a way, and at times he seemed lost in thought. He had disappeared from the laboratory for hours one day, and upon his return he had been evasive, secretive even, about his absence. Hermione had caught him gazing at her on more than one occasion, his expression a mixture of tenderness and sadness.

She was finding it increasingly difficult to sleep, and it was easy, as she lay alone in the darkness, to interpret his behaviour as a bad sign. Maybe he was, she thought, trying to find a way to end their relationship without destroying their working partnership. Or, worse still, maybe he wanted to be rid of her completely.

But then, tired and anxious after a sleepless night, she would enter the laboratory, and the small smile he gave her every time made her heart thump with hope, because she knew he was glad to see her.

Her return this afternoon was no different, and they chatted easily as they worked into the evening. It was shortly after five o'clock when Hermione tidied away the last of her ingredients and delivered an entire trunk full of potions to St. Mungo's via the Floo network. She Summoned her cloak from the hook on the back of the laboratory door.

"I'll be out for most of the day tomorrow," she said, picking up her Potions journal. "I'll see you on Saturday afternoon?"

Severus shot her a glance. "I wanted to talk to you about the clients you're meeting tomorrow," he said, crossing to her bench.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid they've all cancelled."

"What?" Hermione asked in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "What do you mean? It's my last batch of appointments this side of New Year ... Of course they didn't cancel!"

He smirked. "I'm afraid they did."

"All of them?" she asked suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Perhaps it would be more correct to say that I cancelled your appointments for tomorrow."

"You cancelled all my appointments? Severus ... How could you? Some of them were really important!"

He gave a shrug. "They were nothing that can't be dealt with after Christmas. And it was my prerogative. I am, after all, the Principal Potioneer, and if you examine clause twenty-nine of our contract you'll discover I have final say in all matters regarding the running of this business."

"I'm well aware of that," Hermione snapped, furious. "I can't believe you had the gall to go behind my back and cancel my appointments." She slammed her Potions journal onto her bench and put her hands on her hips. "What is going on, Severus?"

He chuckled maddeningly and kissed her on the forehead, confusing her. "Hermione, you are enchantingly pretty when you're angry," he drawled.

She stepped away from him and examined his face. "Are you winding me up?" she asked.

"I thought the next two days might be better spent doing something other than dealing with our clients. I wondered if you might accompany me on something of a field trip," he explained.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "A field trip? You want to go to some gloomy forest to collect bloody fungus?"

"No," he said patiently, "not a gloomy forest. Paris."

"Paris? You want to go on a field trip to Paris? There's some rare herb growing in Tuilleries?"

He smirked again. "Perhaps field trip is the wrong term. There's a conference in the Sorbonne this weekend. I wondered if you would care to join me."

Her eyes widened in delight. "The conference hosted by the editors of The Potioneer? But that's invitation only!"

"I've published in The Potioneer twice over the past six years, and I've received an invitation. That invitation extends to Potions Associates."

Hermione clapped her hands. "Really? You'd like me to go, too?"

"Of course," he said, enjoying her enthusiasm. "I hope you don't think me too presumptuous, but I've already arranged our accommodation."

She threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "Oh, Severus! Thank you so much. I'm so excited ... I'll get to introduce you to some of my professors from the Sorbonne. I could show you where I used to work when I was at college ... and where I used to live!"

He gave her a brief kiss and disentangled her arms from around his neck. "We'll need to Apparate to Paris first thing in the morning, so you need to go and pack your trunk."

"I will," she said, grinning. "I can hardly wait!"

He watched fondly as she practically bounced to the laboratory door. "And pack some formal Muggle attire," he called after her.

"Muggle attire?" she asked, turning. "Why?"

"You'll soon see," he said enigmatically. "Ask me no further questions ... I may change my mind."

His gaze followed her as she disappeared from view, and his smirk faded. He hoped he would find the courage to say all that needed to be said.

***

Hermione looked around the lecture theatre in the Sorbonne where she'd attended so many classes during her four years in Paris. The speaker at the lectern was possessed of a dull, monotonous voice, and Hermione allowed her attention to wander. Although she'd enjoyed many of the papers that day, the current paper was on the magical properties of extinct flowers, devoid of practical application. She was bored.

Severus uttered a discreet yawn to her left, and she watched as he chanced a glance at his watch. For most of the day, he'd been distracted and preoccupied, as he had done for the previous two weeks, and she wondered if he'd had some agenda for bringing her here. He certainly didn't appear to be enjoying many of the presentations.

"Bored?" she whispered, glad they'd chosen seats at the back of the room.

"Exceedingly," he answered under his breath.

Hermione grinned, relieved she was not alone in finding the paper utterly tedious.

"I'm considering casting a non-verbal Silencio," he added.

She stifled a laugh. "But someone would reverse it, and we'd end up simply prolonging the agony."

He uttered a sigh. "Perhaps you're right." He looked around the room. "We have an unimpeded path to the door; I suggest we leave as soon as this paper is finished."

"And skip the final session?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather attend three papers on ..." He consulted the timetable in his hand. "The uses of hormone-stimulating potions in Flobberworm husbandry?"

She smiled. "Could we go for a walk instead?"

"Given that I would rather turn my own wand on myself than attend the next session, a walk sounds like a good idea." He fell silent as the speaker shot them an irritated glance.

As soon as the questions of the delegates had been answered and the session formally concluded, they left and made their way to the ground floor before they could be delayed.

Hermione gave a sigh of relief when they emerged into the cold evening air and pulled her cloak around her. "That man makes Professor Binns seem positively fascinating, and that's saying something. All the boys in our class used History of Magic for an afternoon nap."

They strolled towards the Seine.

"I'm absolutely appalled at how many utter imbeciles there appear to be in our field of expertise," Severus said, shaking his head.

"Didn't you enjoy any of the papers?"

He frowned. "The paper this morning on Veritaserum was vaguely informative."

"I thought it was fascinating," Hermione gushed. "And that Polish witch was very interesting."

"The woman who gave the talk on Dragon's blood? I hope you jest, Hermione?"

"What do you mean? That was by far the best paper of the day," she insisted, scowling.

"How can you say that? It was the most entertaining, perhaps, but where was the practical application? This is meant to be a conference for Potioneers, not for book-loving academics."

Hermione grunted. "Yes, well, the book-loving academic in me rather enjoyed that one, I'm afraid."

Severus rolled his eyes. "You might have blossomed into an attractive young woman, but that bookish little first-year is still in there, somewhere."

Hermione stopped and laughed. Severus turned to look at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, despite his best efforts to turn it into a frown. "What?"

She shook her head, smiling. "I love your double-edged compliments."

They walked in silence for a few moments, and, feeling suddenly plucky, Hermione slipped her hand into his, happy when he entwined his fingers through hers rather than shrug her off.

"Five months have passed since the end of July," Hermione said, referring to the day they had first made love, "but this is the first time we've ever held hands while we've walked."

"We've not had the opportunity, circumstances being what they are."

She looked at him through the dim light, wondering again if he'd brought her here for something other than a conference in which he appeared to be completely disinterested. She felt certain that he wanted to tell her something, but was that good or bad? Had he brought her here to say goodbye?

Tugging his hand in an attempt to cross the road, she said, "Can I show you where I used to work? It's a little cafe not far from here. It might still be open ... We could have a coffee ..."

He stopped and pulled her back from the edge of the street. "There will be time, perhaps, tomorrow. I'm afraid I lured you from the conference for my own nefarious purposes."

Hermione stopped and turned to him, her heart beating faster while she waited for him to explain.

Willing his expression to remain nonchalant, Severus drew a steadying breath. "We have a dinner reservation in an hour, so I suggest we proceed to our hotel. We will require Muggle clothing for the evening."

"Where are we going?"

Without answering, Severus relinquished her hand and reached inside his robes. He extracted a small white envelope and handed it to her.

"What's this?" she said, taking the envelope from him and peering inside.

"A small gift," he replied. He watched, captivated, as she extracted the contents and her eyes widened.

"But, Severus! It's tickets to the Opera ... You hate opera!"

He smiled. "You have informed me, however, that this is the best opera ever written."

She inspected the tickets more closely. "Don Giovanni!" she said, overwhelmed. She threw her arms around his neck. "Severus, I'm so touched. Thank you. I can't believe you did this even though you don't like opera!"

He returned her embrace, pleased at her reaction. "Well," he said. "This is Herr Mozart's chance to change my mind."

***

Hermione descended the steps of the Opera Garnier, her hand tucked into the crook of Severus's arm. She was glad she'd decided to pack her luxurious, grey woollen coat: She and Severus looked quite at home among the smartly dressed Parisian opera-goers.

"Well, Severus," she said, smiling. "Has Herr Mozart won you over?"

"Perhaps," he said.

"Didn't you think it was amazing?"

Severus frowned. "It was ..."

"Don't you dare describe it as adequate," she warned.

He chuckled. "How about bearable?"

She smacked him on the arm. "You're a complete Philistine."

Severus smirked as they walked arm-in-arm along the Avenue de l'Opera. He would have been loath to admit it, but he had paid little attention to the music. He had spent much of the evening regarding Hermione through the safety of his long black hair. It had been her reactions to the performance that had pleased him, not the spectacle taking place on the stage.

They soon reached the edge of Tuilleries and stood before the Pyramide du Louvre. Hermione turned and snaked her arms around his waist.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for taking me here and for sitting through an entire opera for me."

He gently brushed her hair from her face. "My pleasure," he replied, running his thumb along her cheek. "Hermione ..." he began, intending to tell her that he didn't want to give this up, that he wanted many more opportunities to walk hand-in-hand with her through city streets for the rest of their lives.

"Yes?" she said, giving him a contented half-smile.

He opened his mouth to say it, his heart thumping. But they had another day to spend in the French capital. What if the conversation did not go according to plan? What if he'd read the situation incorrectly and Hermione had absolutely no intention of staying with him? The following evening would be time enough for a confession.

He removed her arms from around his waist and took her by the hand. "Come," he said. "It's time we returned to our hotel. How would you feel about skipping the conference tomorrow and enjoying Paris instead?"

"Sounds good to me," Hermione said excitedly. "Can we go to the Musee d'Orsay? And the Jardin du Luxembourg? Oh, and I haven't been to the Sacre-Coeur for years!"

"I should have known you'd want to see Paris in a day. Thank Merlin for Apparition," Severus muttered, steering her towards their hotel and wondering if he was being practical, or cowardly. Perhaps he was nothing more than a yellow-belly, but he had twenty-four hours in which to redeem himself.

***

The day passed in a whirlwind of sightseeing, and as darkness fell, Severus felt a knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He'd brought Hermione to Paris with the intention of telling her how he felt, of sitting down with her in some little cafe and asking her what she wanted from life. He had rehearsed the words so many times in his head; he had imagined how the scene might play out so often in his mind, yet the setting now seemed inappropriate, and the streets were too crowded with Christmas shoppers.

Not once had he ever seen Hermione so animated. She pointed out bars she had frequented while she'd been a student, places she'd worked and patches of grass beneath the trees in the Jardin du Luxembourg where she and Padma had studied in the springtime. How very different her life had been before her return to Britain, and Severus could not help but compare himself to the youthful, happy-go-lucky men she must have dated while at university. It wasn't the first time he'd marvelled at the fact that she appeared to be happy with him, but somehow it seemed all the more striking while she reminisced about her college years.

As they enjoyed an after-dinner aperitif, Severus noticed there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

"You're tired," he whispered across the small table.

She gave him a weary smile. "Yes, I am, a little. It's my own fault for insisting we see all the sights of Paris in one day."

"Perhaps we should return home when we've settled the bill," he suggested, motioning for the waiter, simultaneously relieved and disgusted with himself.

Hermione stifled a yawn. "I agree, but there's one more thing I'd like to see before we leave."

He arched an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"The view of the Eiffel Tower from the Jardins du Trocadero is spectacular, especially at night. If you've already sent our trunks back to London, we could Apparate from there once we have enjoyed the view."

Severus nodded. "I sent our trunks ahead this morning, so there's no need to return to the hotel."

When they'd paid for their meal, they left and strolled towards the Trocadero in comfortable silence. The boutiques and museums had closed, and the city streets were no longer packed with shoppers and tourists. And as they stood alone, looking down upon the illuminated Trocadero fountains, Severus knew this was as close to a perfect moment as he was likely to get.

But before he could speak, Hermione turned to him and said, "Why did you bring me here, Severus?"

He turned to her and took her face in his hands. "I brought you here for an absolutely riveting Potions conference," he said with a small smile.

She frowned. "A conference we failed to attend, and one in which you seemed to take no interest?" She gazed at him. "I think you have something to say to me, Severus, and I wish you'd just put me out of my misery and say it."

He could feel it again: that ache in his chest; a painful hammering of his heart. Still cupping her face, he kissed her gently, trying to put everything he found it so difficult to say into that one kiss. And when they pulled apart, her eyes were full of tears.

"Tell me that wasn't a goodbye kiss, Severus," she said, her voice shaking.

He frowned. "No, Hermione. It wasn't a goodbye kiss." He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to tell her that it would never be a goodbye kiss, but their solitude was shattered by a piercing wolf-whistle and a raucous chorus of laughter.

Severus sighed and turned to frown at a gang of teenagers who'd rounded the corner behind them. He was hopeless at this sort of romantic thing, and the Parisians certainly weren't helping.

Hermione gave a short laugh and shook her head. "Talk about spoiling the moment."

He dropped his hands from her face. "Let's go home," he suggested, feeling thoroughly defeated.

She nodded her agreement, her expression still troubled. "Your house or mine?"

"Mine."

They walked away from the rowdy party of students, and when they were unobserved, they turned on the spot and Disapparated to Kensington Square. They entered the welcome silence of the house, and Severus closed the door behind them.

"Free of Parisians and tourists at long last," Severus said, removing his thick winter coat.

Hermione nodded mutely, and he could tell she was still upset, unsure of his motivations. He reached out and pulled her to him by the lapel of her grey coat. His gaze still fixed on her face, he opened the silver buttons and pulled her coat down her arms, turning to hang it next to his own on the coat rack.

He looked at their coats hanging side by side and thought how very fitting they looked, as if they somehow summarised their owners. His was long and black; hers was much smaller, lighter in colour and of a more feminine cut. They were different, and yet, they looked good together, hanging side by side.

He returned his attention to Hermione, who was watching him, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Kiss me like you did a few moments ago, in Paris," she whispered.

Nodding, he brought his hands up to cup her face, the way he'd done as they'd stood above the Trocadero fountains, and pressed his mouth tenderly to hers, parting her lips with his tongue.

She uttered a soft sigh into his mouth, then she brought her hands up and entwined them in his hair, returning his kiss hungrily, pressing herself against him.

"Take me to bed," she said hoarsely.

He cleared his throat. "Gladly."

He took her by the hand and led her to his bedroom, not letting go until he'd reached the edge of the bed, where he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Raising his hands to her hair, he freed her curls of their band and admired the way her chestnut locks tumbled about her shoulders. He dropped the band to the floor and reached to undo the buttons of her blouse, but she pulled away from him, tugged the blouse over her head and tossed it across the room.

Pressing his lips to the swell of her right breast, Severus released the clasp of her bra and slid the straps down her arms. Her nipples were already hard, and he took one into his mouth, groaning as she wriggled in his lap, her thigh brushing his erection. He gripped her waist and tugged her tighter still against his groin, enjoying the way she arched her body against him, throwing her head back, making her glorious hair brush against his knees. Grazing her nipple with his teeth, he was rewarded with a moan, and he released her from his mouth, turning to lay her on the bed.

He undid the button at the top of her jeans, and she kicked off her shoes, raising her hips and allowing him to strip her of the remainder of her clothing. He stood above her, admiring her naked body through half-lidded eyes while he divested himself of his clothes.

They'd been lovers for many months now, and although he had explored every inch of her body, there always seemed to be something he had never noticed or appreciated before. Tonight he admired the way her quickened breathing made her chest rise and fall. Her breasts had never looked so full, and he gave her a contended smile as he moved his gaze to her face to find her lower lip caught between her teeth, as was her habit while she waited for him to undress.

Finally naked, he lowered himself to the bed beside her and ran his fingers along the curve of her hip, a gasp escaping his lips when she cupped his testicles with her warm hand. She pressed her lips to his and wrapped her leg around his hip, rolling onto her back and pulling him with her.

He made love to her with infinite gentleness, and when they were both satisfied, she rolled onto her side, her back pressed against him to allow him to wrap her in his arms as was his custom. But, to her surprise, he pulled her back to face him.

"Look at me, Hermione," he whispered.

She turned to face him, confused, and they regarded one another for a very long moment. And then he kissed her.

Although she wasn't sure why, Hermione felt hope surge within her chest, and she could not help but be moved to tears. She had waited so long and so patiently to know how he felt, and it was there, in this kiss.

Severus kissed her until he felt dampness against his cheek. Shocked, he pulled away to find tears streaming down her face.

"Hermione," he said, a lump forming in his own throat. "Why are you crying?"

She sat up and covered her face with her hands. "I don't really know, Severus," she said, her voice choked. "I just feel like an emotional wreck; I don't know what's the matter with me." She tugged the bed sheet up to her neck and hugged her knees to her chest.

He watched as she closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath.

"I feel as though things have changed between us, and I don't know how to interpret that change," she said quietly, struggling against her tears.

Severus sat up with a sigh and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his back to her. He had not meant to upset her; he had envisaged many different scenarios for this evening, but not one filled with tears and confusion.

"Things have changed," he said softly, half-turning to her, but not meeting her gaze. "Everything has changed."

He picked up his wand from the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and Summoned his dressing gown.

"How, Severus?" Hermione asked desperately. "How has it changed?"

He stood and shrugged into the gown, tying the belt around his waist. "We used to fuck," he said simply.

She winced, unused to such crude language from him. "And now?"

He turned and looked at her. "And now we make love."

He began to walk away, across the room. He would go to his study and retrieve the documents on which he had worked since the day he had taken the Exostraserum. He would prove to her that he was determined to secure a divorce before she was subject to the Marriage Law once more.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she scrambled to the edge of the bed, hardly daring to breathe, the sheet still clutched to her chest. Never, ever before had the word love escaped his lips. "Does that mean you love me, Severus?"

He stopped, his hand upon the doorknob.

Hermione stayed still, watching as he stood at the still-closed door. Her heartbeat was ringing in her ears, and as his silence stretched across what felt like minutes, she was filled with regret. She had sworn she would wait for him, that she would not force the issue.

"I ... I'm sorry, Severus," she said, closing her eyes. "I shouldn't have asked. I like things the way they are. If it wasn't for the Marriage Act, I could happily go on like this forever ... I just..."

He slowly turned to face her. "Yes, Hermione."

She stopped mid-sentence, her lower lip trembling. "Yes?"

"Yes, I do," he said.

She couldn't help it: a tear rolled down her cheek.

His crossed the room once more and sat on the bed, facing her.

"Do you want to be with me?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "More than anything," she whispered.

He leaned forward and gently wiped the tear from her cheek. "Then there is much to be arranged."

He stood, and with one more lingering look at her tear-stained face, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Hermione sank onto the bed and buried her face in her pillow, wondering why, when it seemed that all her dreams had just come true, she felt the need to cry as if her heart was breaking.

***

It was more than an hour later when Severus left his study, satisfied at last with his paperwork. He had been meticulous in his gathering of information since he'd become betrothed to Cordelia Mill, and he'd spent a fortnight adding to the file that he intended to present to his wife.

Papers in hand, he quietly opened the bedroom door, intending to lay the evidence of his commitment before Hermione. But even in the dim, flickering light of the single candle, he could tell by the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the quilt that she had fallen asleep. He crossed to the bed and laid the documents on the bedside cabinet with a deep sigh. They would have to wait until morning.

He slipped beneath the covers and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her snugly against his chest. She did not stir, even when he planted a kiss on her shoulder. He extinguished the candle and lay awake for many hours, trying to fathom what his wife's reaction might be, until sleep eventually claimed him.

***

Severus woke the next morning feeling refreshed and optimistic. He showered and dressed while Hermione slept on. She often tossed and turned in her sleep, tickling his face with her mop of curls, but last night she had barely moved at all, so deep had been her repose.

When he was fully clothed in his customary black, he knelt beside her sleeping form. She was pale, and even though she had slept soundly, there were inky smudges beneath her closed eyes. He suspected she had not slept well for some weeks, fretting, no doubt, about what the coming months might bring. A pang of guilt gnawed at him. Perhaps he should have taken the Exostraserum sooner and spared her needless weeks of worry.

Deciding he could manage without Moe's help, he descended to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. When the table had been set, he returned to the bedroom and knelt beside Hermione once more.

"Hermione?" he whispered, shaking her gently by the shoulder.

Her eyes flickered open, and she looked around, disorientated.

"Good morning," Severus said with a smile.

"Good morning," she said, yawning. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten. I've made some breakfast. Would you like to come to the kitchen, or shall I bring it up here?" He looked at her in concern: she was still unusually pale.

"I'll come downstairs," she said, sitting up. "Just give me a few minutes to shower."

He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Do you feel unwell?"

She managed a weak smile. "I feel fine; I'm just worn out. I haven't been sleeping too well."

He kissed her on the forehead and rose. "I'll see you in a few moments; we have much to discuss."

When she appeared in the kitchen, she looked better, but she only picked at her breakfast.

"Hermione, you need to eat," he said.

"I can't; I'm too nervous," she said, pushing her plate away from her. "What happens now, Severus?"

He sat forward, his elbows on the table. "I ask Cordelia for a divorce."

Hermione gazed at him. "Is she likely to grant you one?"

"I'm certain she won't agree straight away, but in February she will be only six months away from her fiftieth birthday, and she'll be able to divorce without becoming subject to the Marriage Law again. She'll be free to marry Everard; it would be in her best interests to secure a divorce."

"You don't think she'll refuse just out of spite?"

"It's not beyond the realms of possibility," he agreed, "but I've accrued a few chips with which to bargain my way out over the years." He pushed the bundle of parchment across the table towards her.

She looked at the documents. "What's this?"

"Information I've gathered over the years: legal documents detailing our rights in case of divorce; the pre-marital agreement we both signed; and details of my finances."

"What about the lab, Severus? I thought you used Cordelia's money to begin your business? How much do you own her?"

"I used her financial backing to begin the business, it's true, but I have more than ample funds to pay back everything I borrowed. A divorce will not come cheap, but thanks to Albus Dumbledore, she cannot refuse me on monetary grounds."

She frowned. "What has Albus Dumbledore got to do with anything?"

"The Telenium cauldron," he explained. "He bequeathed it to me. I've had the means to produce some extremely rare potions, and I have many clients who have been willing to pay exorbitant sums of money to ensure a continuous supply over the years." He tapped the documents with his index finger. "Take a look for yourself. I am a wealthy man, Hermione."

Hermione glanced at the bundle of papers on the table. "I trust you, Severus; I'll take you at your word. But I'm still not convinced she'll just let you go, and I only have three months remaining before I have to marry again." She coloured at the mention of marriage. He had not, after all, asked her to marry him.

"She may protest at first, but she'll concede eventually. She has no reason not to do so."

Hermione bit at her bottom lip. "When will you ask her?"

"Today. I want to get things moving, and we will need to find new premises for the laboratory. I think it would be unwise for us to continue working here in Cordelia's house. Business always comes to a halt for the Christmas period, and that means I have two weeks in which to locate and prepare new premises. The timing is good."

"I suppose you're right," she said. "But where will we go? We could always convert one of the rooms in my house into a lab."

Severus shook his head. "Lance is still her uncle, and even though you own part of the building, it is still Mill property. I would prefer somewhere neutral."

"But what will you do?"

"I'll find somewhere to rent for now."

Hermione rubbed her brow, tears coming to her eyes. "This could all be such a mess, Severus. I don't want to be the reason your life is turned upside-down; I never meant to make things so difficult for you."

"Not everything worth doing is easy," he said, taking her hand. "Things will have to change, there is no denying that. But don't you think it will be worth it?"

She met his intense, black gaze, still unable to believe this was finally happening. She felt as though she was living through a dream. "I suppose it will be, if it comes to pass."

They looked at one another in silence for a moment, until Hermione asked, "What time will Cordelia be home?"

Severus shrugged. "This evening, I would guess. She's rarely back before lunchtime."

Hermione looked at her watch: it was approaching eleven. "Maybe I should go, just in case. You really intend telling her today?"

He nodded. "She's usually in good form when she's been away for a few days. Besides, I'd like to get it over with."

Hermione rose from the table. "I promised I'd meet Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, but I'll be home early this evening. Will you send me word as soon as you can? I doubt I'll be able to do anything other than pace the floor this evening."

Severus stood up and nodded again. "I'll send you a note as soon as I have anything to report."

They climbed the stairs and turned to one another in the hall. Severus gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"Good luck," Hermione muttered against his chest.

"Try not worry," he said. "Cordelia's bark has always been worse than her bite. She may refuse at first, but she'll come round."

He pulled away to find that tears were coursing down her cheeks once more. "Hermione, why are you so upset?"

She put her hands to her face and sobbed. "I ... I don't know ... I just ..."

"Come," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her into the sitting room.

He sat on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. "Dry your tears," he said, Conjuring a handkerchief.

She did as she was told and raised swollen eyes to his. "I'm just so afraid she won't let you go, Severus. You've already said it annoys her more because it's me. What if she refuses you a divorce just to ruin everything? What if I have to go abroad? It just ... It all feels so much more desperate now."

"What do you mean?"

She looked at him and took a deep breath. "I had no idea how you felt, Severus. I didn't think you'd want to go through with a divorce, just for me. But after last night, it's like ..."

He waited for her to continue and wound a curl around his finger.

Hermione gazed at him. "I love you, Severus. I couldn't bear to be without you, and now it just seems like there is so much more to lose!"

He pulled her to his chest, stroking her hair as she succumbed to a fresh wave of tears. He closed his eyes; he had known, deep down, that she loved him, but to hear it on her lips was something else entirely.

"Hermione, we will be together. You have to trust me."

"I trust you," she said. "I just don't trust Cordelia Mill to let you go."

"What does it matter?" he said, willing her to understand. "Hermione, if she refuses me a divorce we will leave this place. There are plenty of countries that have not adopted the Marriage Law. If we have to go to the ends of the Earth, we will be together."

She pressed her forehead to his, soothed by his words. Wiping her face with the handkerchief, she took a deep, steadying breath.

"Now, much as I dislike sending you away while you're upset, I have more paperwork to prepare, and it's imperative that you leave before Cordelia returns," he said

Hermione nodded and stood, smoothing her clothes. "Walk me to the door," she said, holding out her hand.

He took it and rose from the sofa. When they reached the hall, they both stopped.

There, by the door, stood a large wooden trunk that had not been there only moments before. Inscribed on the top was the name C. A. Mill.

They looked at one another in horror. The sound of footsteps came from the floor above.

"Cordelia's back?" Hermione whispered, her face stricken. "Already?"

"So it would appear," Severus said grimly.

"Do you think she heard us?" Hermione asked, desperate for him to say no.

Severus glanced at the open door of the sitting room, only feet from where his wife's trunk sat. "Almost certainly."