Twenty One: Heaven From One

Anti-Litigation Charm: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling, who let my entire reason for reading the Harry Potter series bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I'm building a better world.

So never leave me lonely, tell me you love me only, and that you'll always let it be me

Hermione was always able to remember every minute detail of the day Harry nearly killed her and Draco Malfoy. To the end of her life, her memories would be as crystal clear as the day it happened.

After Severus' hasty kiss goodbye that morning and her mad dash to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione had spent the day attending classes, grabbing lunch and helping a couple of clueless second years learn the proper swish-and-flick technique that still seemed to baffle some younger students.

Her DADA class had been focused on blocking. She and Lavender had paired up again, this time to better results. Severus had not acknowledged it as such, but he'd also kept his insults to a minimum, which, for Severus, was akin to blatant, gushing praise. Hermione thought so, anyway, and if that was as close as he was going to get in the classroom, she'd take it as such.

As class ended, she'd deliberately been the last one out of the door, and as she left, she dropped her quill, bending forward from the waist to pick it up. Hearing a quiet grunt from the far end of the room, she had turned to see Severus shaking his head, a sneer etched on his lips, eyes narrowed. In her mind, she heard, You'll pay for that, witch. Hermione gave him a little crooked, coy smile, and he pressed his lips together sternly and lifted his head toward the door. Enough of that, minx. I've still got a class to teach. Hermione left, but not before blowing her DADA professor a kiss. The scowl on his face was almost audible.

She had spent a fruitless hour before dinner looking surreptitiously in the Library for any information on Horcruxes, but without further access to the more extremely Restricted tomes she felt no closer to solving the mystery of their whereabouts than she had the first day Dumbledore had explained them. She had submitted a request to Dumbledore for a pass into the extremely Restricted area of the Library, but none had been forthcoming.

Glancing at the clock, Hermione realised she was already late for dinner, and so took a detour by one of the boy's toilets. As she passed, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone crying within. Hermione looked around; the corridor was deserted with everyone at dinner, so she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She could always use her position as Prefect to explain venturing into one of the boys' loos.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the inevitable smell of piss and testosterone, and wondered, not for the first time, why the boys' toilets always stank so badly. Suppressing the urge to hold her nose, she peeked around the corner and saw Draco Malfoy, standing at one of the sinks, weeping.

Her heart began to beat a little faster. Quietly, she approached him. "Draco, are you alright?"

The blond spun around, wand out, a mask of fury on his tear-stained face. "Piss off, Granger," he hissed, turning away from her. "This is a gent's, you know! Get your filthy carcass out of my sight." While his words were textbook Malfoy vitriol, there was no real bite or power behind them. Hermione wondered if she just might have stumbled upon the opportunity she'd been looking for.

As gently as she would have approached a hippogriff, Hermione set down her book bag and then held up her hands in supplication. "Draco, I don't know what is happening, but I want you to know I'm -" she hesitated. Think, Hermione! She chastised herself. Think – what would Severus say to him?

"Draco," she began again, casting her fate to the winds, "you know about... Professor Snape and me, yes?"

He lifted his gaze to hers in the mirror, misery dulling his eyes. Slowly he nodded and inelegantly wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Of course, he had heard of her marriage, and possibly even a rumour of her 'pregnancy,' from his mother, as Narcissa had been present the night she and Severus had conducted their dangerous meeting with Lord Voldemort.

"Well then, you know that... all is not what it seems." When he did not respond, Hermione pressed on. "I don't know what you are planning, but I can help. I know that, in your eyes, I'm just a Mudblood, but I want to help you."

Draco began breathing harshly. "Nobody can help me," he finally whispered. "My Aunt Bella... she..." he suddenly turned to Hermione. "I have to do this. I've been working on... something." He looked desperate and whey-faced with fear. "You don't understand, Granger! He'll kill my family."

"I know he could," Hermione said soothingly, and stepped toward him. "He killed - m-my family is gone, Draco. I know how frightened you are! I understand why, but -" She flailed helplessly for a moment. "We – Severus and I – we can help you in your task. We can work together. Perhaps we can all protect your parents -"

Draco's eyes turned flat and cold. Contemptuously, he snapped, "And who's going to protect you, Mudblood? Your dearest husband? He couldn't even protect - "

The door flew open, and Draco and Hermione whirled about as Harry stepped into the bathroom. "Hermione? What's going on here?" he demanded, looking from one to the other. He drew his wand, his emerald eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Hermione glanced at Draco, then looked back at her friend. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of Draco's tear-stained face. "What the f - "

Hermione, trying to step between Harry and Draco, said calmly, "Draco and I were just having-"

Draco gave Harry a look of pure hatred and snarled, "I was just telling your little Mudblood whore to stop following me into the gents' unless she wants to get fucked up the arse, Potter. Not that it's any business of yours."

Harry's face contorted with anger. "How fucking dare you – "

But Draco's blood was up, his fear gone. Arrogantly, he sneered, "Stick around, Potty. Maybe you'll get lucky with Crabbe. He's got a thing for whiny little Gryffindors. You'd be right up his street."

Hermione didn't have time to react before Harry's first hex screamed past her toward the young Slytherin. It was so close she could actually feel the heat of it. She instinctively ducked as Draco's returning jinx blasted over her head.

"Harry, stop! Stop it, both of you!" she shouted, dodging a jinx that shattered a sink behind her. Water began to flood the bathroom, and Moaning Myrtle flew out of the U-bend, shrieking as her ghostly abode was being destroyed by the two young wizards.

"Levicorpus!" Harry bellowed, barely missing Draco, who leveled a Leg-Locker Curse at Harry's feet and missed. A vicious hex demolished a huge piece of the floor. Tile chips flew around the room. Hermione's pleas and warnings went unnoticed; both wizards were blind, deaf and dumb to everything but the long years of pent-up animosity toward one another, and the freedom to finally act upon it. But Harry and Draco were too evenly matched; neither could get a spell under the other's shields, and Hermione could not risk disarming one without the other taking advantage.

As she shouted for Moaning Myrtle to go and get help, she aimed her wand at the mirror, desperately hoping to cast a spell that would ricochet and hit both boys at the same time. "Petrificus–"

"Sectumsempra!" Harry roared. The spell tore past Hermione, spinning her around one hundred and eighty degrees with its force. It sliced into her torso, even as it blazed past and razored into its intended victim. Both she and Draco screamed as they were knocked off their feet by the force of the curse.

Hermione could feel dozens of tiny yet deep cuts opening on her skin. She hissed in pain. Seeing blood oozing from her body startled and frightened her, making her heart race and her blood flow faster. With her arms clamped tight around her middle, she rolled herself up onto her knees and looked down at Draco in horror. He was lying on the wet floor, shivering, with long, thin slashes covering his body. Blood was running from him in rivulets, inking the standing water on the floor with blossoms of crimson. Draco's face stood deathly white in stark contrast to his blood-saturated shirt. Blood tipped the ends of his hair, like quills dipped in red ink. Hermione placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. His lips were turning blue; he was going into shock.

Hermione forced her panic down and closed her eyes. Severus. Severus would already know something was wrong. If she was this injured, his palm must be screaming pain by now under the weight of the Blood Oath. But it was Draco's life she feared for most...

Come quickly, Severus! It's Draco! He did not respond, yet she could almost feel the surge of adrenaline pumping into her husband's bloodstream, and she leaned over the blond Slytherin, relieved that help was on the way. "It's alright, Draco. It's alright," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Professor Snape will be here soon."

Still on her knees, she turned to look back at Harry, who was staring, wild-eyed and speechless. He was still in fighting stance, frozen in horror at the scene before him. "What have you done?" she shouted. "Go and get help – NOW!" But Harry stood rooted to the spot. He looked from her to Draco, and for a dreadful moment, Hermione thought he would faint.

The vision of Severus Snape flying through the door was possibly the sweetest sight Hermione had ever witnessed. He took in the tableau of the three of them in one swift movement, then their eyes met.

Hermione, gods!

I'm not that bad, Severus, but Draco is -

Severus skidded to a halt in front of the bleeding Draco and knelt at his side. Severus took a deep breath and murmured an incantation as he drew his wand over the deep cuts. His low voice throbbed with emotion, making the charmed words almost musical. Hermione watched her husband closely; his concentration, fierce at the calmest of times, was sterling, almost holy in its pure, distilled intensity.

Soon, the shallower wounds were almost healed, while the deeper gashes were closing and the blood was wicking from Draco's shirt into his body again. Hermione marveled at the purity of the spell; not only was it healing the wound, but it was cleansing the blood so that the body would receive it back into his body.

Then he turned to her. As Severus chanted the incantation and healed the worst of the cuts, Hermione could feel his magic washing over her in soothing waves. He was focusing on her with the same pristine concentration he'd given to healing Draco, and the spell felt like a cooling balm over her wounds. She slumped in relief as the pain eased away with each softly spoken word. Though she had not been the intended target for the spell, and had only received a cursory glance, she had been hit first; her cuts, though quite a bit fewer in number, were deeper than Draco's.

The lacerations on her abdomen were particularly painful, almost reminding Hermione of menstrual cramps. She was struck with a sudden thought, and looked up at Severus. Ask me to come with you to the infirmary, Severus. Just go along with what I do, please!

He did not react to her thoughts as he assisted her to her feet, and Hermione suddenly doubled over with a grunt of pain. With a look of panic, she whispered, "Professor, I-"

"That will do, Miss Granger. Apparently you'll need to come with us as well." He sounded sharply irritated, as if he thought her to be overreacting. Draco was still unsteady on his feet, and Severus transfigured one of Draco's notebooks into a stretcher and assisted the young wizard onto the litter, which magically moved at Severus' silent command.

Severus held onto Hermione's arm as they left the toilets with Draco in tow. As they neared the door, Severus turned back to Harry. Hermione could feel Severus' fury; she was surprised Harry could not physically see the palpable rage emanating from her husband.

"Do. Not. Move," Severus growled. Harry nodded slowly.

Severus could barely think for the anger surging through his veins. Bloody fucking Potter - again! He thought. How could he possibly know that particular spell? The stupid, thoughtless arrogant prick –

Hermione grasped her abdomen again and cried out. Draco, who was still shaky, but stable, looked from her to Severus.

"What's wrong with her?" he whined petulantly, rising weakly from the stretcher. "I'm the one that got cursed, not her – "

"She probably saved your life, Draco," Severus said, through clenched teeth. "I want Madam Pomfrey to have-" He stopped as Hermione froze, an expression of agony on her lovely face.

"Oh, no," she whispered, and suddenly clutched Severus' arm. She looked up at him with pain-filled eyes. "Something's wrong," she whimpered, and sagged against Severus' hip. To his shock, he could see a trickle of dark blood running down the inside of her thigh. She followed his gaze and cried out.

"Merlin, Granger," Draco said, looking at her with revulsion.

"Quiet, Draco!" Severus hissed, understanding. To add to the drama, he scooped Hermione into his arms and began to hurry toward the infirmary, with Draco's litter moving smoothly beside them. Hermione clutched her abdomen, and cried out.

Within his mind he heard her voice, swift and strong. It's all an act, you know that, don't you?

I'm finally getting around to it. Are you taking advantage of the situation or did you deliberately step in front of Draco?

He could almost hear her huff inwardly. I'm not that noble! Harry used a spell I've never heard of. It was horrible – like Dark magic! Severus turned his face away from hers.

A few unspoken words later, and Severus burst into the infirmary, calling for Madam Pomfrey. He was still reeling at the sheer audacity of his wife. Part of him wanted to shout to the gods how sodding clever she was; part of him was irritated he had not thought of it himself.

She had single-handedly solved the problem of her 'pregnancy' and cemented her cover for hating Harry Potter in one master stroke – and Potter himself had sealed the deal. Hermione's supposed defection would be even more plausible to the Dark Lord if revenge was a factor.

Severus could plant the seed that Potter was isolated and vulnerable, and the Dark Lord would be placated for awhile longer, giving Severus and Dumbledore time to plan. All they needed was a little fake blood and Draco's curiosity and penchant for eavesdropping.

Propriety dictated that he would force Poppy to attend Draco's wounds first, which were all but healed, thanks to Severus' quick thinking and powerful magic. A few drops of Dittany later, and no one would ever guess that Draco had been covered in deep lacerations moments before. From behind a curtain in the next bed, they could hear Hermione's sobs and gasps of pain.

"Madam Pomfrey, a private word, I think," Severus had said archly, hoping the blond Slytherin would be listening. She gave him a terse nod, and they moved from Hermione's bed into the office.

As Hermione lay there, she heard a soft rustle of the curtain, and a gasp. Hermione kept her eyes closed, knowing what Draco had seen, and thankful that Severus was, even now, explaining the elaborate ruse to Madam Pomfrey. How else would she explain lying in bed, covered in dark blood, holding her abdomen and weeping in pain?

Five minutes later, and they returned. Madam Pomfrey looked grave, concerned, while Severus' face was a mask of tightly-controlled anger. He barely acknowledged Draco as he and the mediwitch walked into Hermione's partition. From behind the curtain that separated Draco's bed from Hermione's, Madam Pomfrey's voice could be heard, speaking quietly as to not be heard, but not so quietly that their eavesdropper would miss anything.

"First of all, take this potion, Miss Gran – Madam Snape. Then we'll get you cleaned up, my dear. I know, I know. I'm afraid it could not be helped, my dear," she said, sounding efficiently sympathetic. "The trauma, you see – "

Hermione gave a convincing sob, pitiful to hear.

Madam Pomfrey continued, soothingly, "There, there, child. Both of you are young and healthy. There will be other opportunities."

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus could see Draco's face as he listened intently to the conversation, and he smiled grimly to himself. Poppy was almost as good an actress as Hermione. She needed to be, as the next few moments of this deadly little shadow play were crucial to their plans. He hated to be reliant on so many in this ruse, but Poppy had ever been sympathetic to him, and understood more than most just how high a price serving the Dark Lord exacted.

Madam Pomfrey excused herself and stepped away for one last potion, leaving Severus and Hermione alone. Weeping, Hermione whispered loudly, "Severus, I'm sorry – "

"Don't be foolish, Lass. I've no doubt you saved Draco's life when you stepped between him and that imbecile – "

"Professor, please!" Madam Pomfrey interjected, walking back into the room. "I think, considering the circumstances, this is a conversation for another time and place."

There was a rustle as the curtain was pulled back. Severus and Hermione heard Poppy's brisk tone as she addressed Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, you can return to your dormitory now. I see no reason to keep you in the infirmary. Take this Essence of Dittany with you, and check back with me tomorrow. Don't worry, my boy, those marks won't even leave a scar. By this time tomorrow, you won't even remember them. For now, some chocolate, I think, and Professor Snape will make sure you get dinner."

Severus waited until Poppy left them to check on another part of the ward, then, just as they could hear Draco preparing to leave, Severus turned back to Hermione. "I'm sure he will forgive you, considering you saved Draco. Hermione, you are young and strong, as Madam Pomfrey says. Another child, once The Dark Lord has won -" He put a note of heaviness in his voice.

From his vantage point, he saw Draco's head turn, and he slowed his exit from the room. It was quite apparent they'd gotten his attention.

Hermione nodded, then added quietly. "What if... he's angry with me? You're not angry with me, are you?"

No, but I might indulge myself in a little Potter maiming later. "I cannot say. As for me, my only anger is with that fool, Potter! Besides, Madam Pomfrey said you would make a full recovery." I seriously doubt Draco is going to pay that much attention to how quickly you 'recover,' but you may want to take tomorrow as a sick day. I'll make sure Poppy signs the correct parchments.

The full impact of what had happened was now seeping into Severus' bones. He overcame the fanciful and thankfully transient urge to sweep up Hermione in his arms and lock her in a box until everything was over. The image of her, bleeding and frightened, flashed over and over in his mind, and he knew he would have to use every ounce of his will not to hex Potter into oblivion.

Hermione was sobbing, "I have to face him, pretend to be his friend, knowing he did this to me! I hate him! Severus, he killed our child! I'll never forgive him! The Dark –" she gulped as she remembered herself. "He will be displeased with us!" Her voice was so full of pain Severus almost believed her. It would have been faintly amusing, had the stakes not been so perilously high.

"All the more reason to make sure he is isolated in the end, pet. He won't even know he's been betrayed until the betrayal is done! Thank the gods Draco will recover. If I had been delayed a few more minutes, I cannot say what would have happened."

Severus sighed. Enough. He didn't want to give Draco anything else to talk about. It was enough that he was convinced that Hermione had miscarried, and that she was plotting against Potter. Severus cleared his throat. "For now, take the Potions or Madam Pomfrey will have both our guts for garters. You need rest. I will try to find a way to come to you this evening. Right now, I have to deal with Potter," he said, grimly, true anger returning to his voice.

As he stepped from behind the curtain, he allowed himself a smirk as Draco's form slipped through the door of the infirmary. Good! He had seen and heard what they had intended him to see and hear, and no doubt, would report to his mother, who would, in turn ensure that the Dark Lord heard the news that Harry Potter had murdered Severus' unborn child. It would convince Narcissa all the more that Severus was willing to keep Draco safe for the horrific mission he'd been given.

They were playing a desperate game of Let's Pretend, and it grew more tenuous and fragile with each passing day. How long before all the trembling strands of the web tangled and broke, and it all came crashing down on their heads?

Severus strode back to the boys' toilets. Students passed him, but Severus barely took notice as they sprang out of his way. He thundered down the hall, wanting to be finished with this hateful farce. As he neared the door, renewed anger filled him. His little shadowplay with Hermione may well have been for Draco's benefit, but the fact remained that Potter had used Sectumsempra – one of Severus' own created spells.

It could have been no other spell – he recognised the magical signature of it the moment he saw Hermione injuries. Of all people, it would be James Potter's son who would use his own spell to hurt Severus' wife. Where on earth would Potter learned the spell? How did he know about it?

Severus could not erase from his mind the image of Hermione kneeling on the floor, slashed and bleeding. Anger roiled in his gut, churning his stomach until he could taste bile in his mouth. He wanted to tear Potter's head off. For a moment, it felt to Severus that Potter had destroyed something precious to him. He had taken his own spell, that which Severus had laboured over and honed to razor sharp destruction, and stolen it. Everything that Severus had ever held dear seemed fated to be defiled by James Potter and his progeny.

The implications made him stop in his tracks at the door. What if Hermione had really been carrying his child? How would he react if that precious life had been snuffed out by his own created spell, cast from the wand of his old enemy's son? He felt the nausea rise again, and swallowed it down with a twisted grimace.

He blew into the boys' toilets like an avenging angel, and noted with contempt that Potter was still there. Typical bloody Gryffindor! Anyone else would have taken to the hills.

Potter seemed to have turned into stone while Severus was in the infirmary with Hermione and Draco. He was pale, and his hand shook. "How is Hermione?" he asked, with an air of defiant fear.

Severus held onto his temper. In a quiet tone reminiscent of chipped ice, he hissed, "You injured two students, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy. Have you no concern for his welfare as well?"

"He was arguing with Hermione – "

"He and Miss Granger have both corroborated the fact that they were merely talking, though why Miss Granger was in the boys' toilets I have yet to ascertain," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "They both agree that nothing untoward was happening until you barged in and started throwing curses."

Harry looked at Severus uncertainly, and Severus took his chance. "Legilimens!"

He tore through Potter's mind, batting his defenses away easily (how in Merlin's name are we to have any hope if this fool can't close off his mind any better than this!) and saw familiar handwriting, on the pages of a book... it triggered a memory, but when he tried to push the boy further, Potter summoned enough power to push Severus from his mind.

Seething, Severus said quietly, "Congratulations, Mister Potter, you may have finally pulled your finger out and managed to Occlude your mind." He gave the boy a feral smile. "Now bring me your bookbag – and all of your textbooks."

It was much later, after Harry had managed to safely stash away his coveted Potions book and receive his weekly detentions for the rest of the term that he really sat down and gave the incident some thought. Once the panic settled, and he was assured that Hermione was going to be alright, Harry was able to give some real contemplation to what had happened. Instead of Hermione or even Draco, Harry's thoughts were continually drawn back to the look on Snape's face as he burst through the door and rushed to Draco's aid.

Snape had been obviously furious and concerned; that much was clear. His eyes had been justifiably full of accusation and fear. But there was something else, Harry was sure of it. It could have certainly been worry, but to Harry it looked like something far more baffling in Snape's expression – like anguish, or longing – maybe even love.

But Snape had not been looking at Malfoy at the time.

He'd been looking at Hermione.

"Hermione, I don't know how many times I need to say it! I'm sorry!" Harry looked at Hermione with remorse written all over his face. "I thought Malfoy was hurting you."

Seething, Hermione shot back, "Now do you see why that book is dangerous? If you don't turn it in to the Headmaster, Harry, I will!"

Harry gulped. He had brought along Ron as ballast for facing her wrath in the Infirmary, and Harry was beginning to think that dealing with Snape had been the lesser of the two evils. Hermione was sitting up in bed, a little pale, but mostly livid that Harry had cast an unknown curse so blindly, without any thought of its consequences.

He tried to lighten the mood with a smile. "But isn't that what your precious Professor Snape is always saying is wrong with Gryffindors? We're too worried about the consequences, when we should be prepared to hex first and ask questions later!"

Hermione's breath left her lungs in a huff. Her eyes narrowed and her brows rushed together, and both Harry and Ron visibly paled. She looked as if she was the one preparing to hex first and ask questions later. Her amber eyes snapped fire. Ron made a little squeaking noise. He'd seen that look before. "Now, steady on, Hermione –"

"Of all the pea-brained, foolish, numb-nutted bollocks I've ever heard, that takes the cake, Harry James Potter!" Her hair stood on end, as if electrically charged, and magic flowed from her in waves. She closed her eyes and mastered her anger. In a voice that reminded Harry eerily of Snape's, she said, "I want you to leave now, but you will apologise to Draco, you will turn in that book and you will never cast an unknown spell from a magical book in my presence EVER AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"All right! All right!" Harry replied, leaping to his feet. He, too, was growing angry. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt you, and I didn't go there planning to pick a fight. I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of this, but we're playing for keeps here, Hermione! Draco is up to something, and it's got Voldemort written all over it, and I need to find out what is going on before someone gets killed."

He faced her, unafraid. His voice turned quiet but trembled with emotion. "I know I'm being kept in the dark about things. Dumbledore is so afraid to tell me anything, in case Voldemort becomes aware through our link. I'm flying blind without a beater, Hermione, and I'm scared. That potions book has been the first thing that has given me anything I can use in a long time, and if it means I can stop Draco from accomplishing whatever mission Voldemort's given him, I'll curse anyone in my path, including Draco, including Snape- "

"Including me?" Hermione said, her lip quivering.

Harry froze, and looked at his friend. His self-righteous bluster and bravado vanished. If was as if the implications of what had happened had finally, truly hit home, and Hermione saw the anger bleed from his expression. She could see Harry's anguish, and for a moment, it was as if they were two scared first years again, trying to fight against forces they didn't understand and no one would explain. Her tears ran freely, and suddenly Harry was sitting on the bed with her and they were in each other's arms.

"I was so scared!" she cried.

Harry sobbed into her hair, "I'm so sorry, Hermione! I'm so sorry!"

"I'll do whatever it takes to help you defeat Voldemort! I'll help you find the Horcruxes! I promise!" Hermione wept. Severus may be her husband, but Harry had been her friend for too long not to forgive him and help him.

Harry clutched at her like a lifeline. "I know! I know you will." He buried his head in her shoulder and wept. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry I didn't believe you about Sirius! I should have known you wouldn't – that you didn't - "

"It's okay! There's nothing to forgive."

As they held each other and wept, Ron watched them, feeling alternately relieved and left out. He knew something was different between himself and Hermione this year, and watching his best friend holding the girl he secretly thought of as 'his,' Ron thought he might finally understand the reason. Harry and Hermione were so wrapped up in comforting one another, they did not see Ron quietly turn and leave the room.

That night, as Hermione approached the dungeons, she was shocked to find him at the entrance, already waiting for her. Their eyes met, and Hermione's knees almost buckled at the expression of raw need and hunger in his eyes. Without a word, he grabbed her hand, and together they almost ran his room.

Before she could speak, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up passion and relief the day had created. It was a breathtaking, sense-stealing kiss, and Hermione returned it completely, her arms pulling him as close as she could, opening her mouth to his powerful, demanding, all-encompassing kisses.

He finally broke away, scooped her up into his arms and carried her to their bed. Wordlessly, he vanished their clothing, and they lay naked, entwined in one another's arms until they could get no closer. He kissed and fondled and touched her, building her desire to a fevered peak, until she was gasping, pleading, "Severus, please! Make love to me now... I can't wait..."

He obeyed, shifting his body to cover hers before entering her slowly, making her aware of every inch of his rigid cock, his burning gaze, his divine concentration, his entire being. He made love to her the same way he had healed her - with his voice, his mind, his magic, and Hermione was mesmerized by the power and adoration in this beautiful act.

When she begged him to give her more, he granted it with the fervent zeal of an acolyte. As their passion rose to its inevitable, beautiful conclusion, he held back, urging her on, coaxing her body to do his bidding, until she shattered around him with a wild cry of completion. He held on, denying himself, playing her expertly, calling on all his talents and his experience to pleasure his wife, wrenching the orgasms from her as if each one was a talisman created by them against the darkness.

And finally, when he could no longer hold back his own passions, he eased her into the last climax with him, soothing her with his knowing fingers, his deft, precise thrusts, until his control and his discipline deserted him and he looked into her eyes with a mixture of love and wildfire that scorched Hermione to cinders and allowed her to ride that final crest with him, and it felt like the sweet pleasure that comes before death. He reared above her like a phoenix, rising from her as if she were the flame, crying out her name as if it were a song, and when he collapsed against his witch, he shouted his relief and his love, his anger and his pride.

They lay spent and sweat-drenched, their mouths fused together, so that each breath she took was drawn from his mouth, their tangled limbs so close that they could not tell where one ended and the other began. He covered every inch of her body in his kisses and caresses, as if to imbue her with magic and medicine from his own pores. Her love felt like a benediction and a blessing; it felt like forgiveness.

Opening song – Let It Be Me, by the Everly Brothers