Thirty Three: Take Me, I'm Yours

I would like to extend my gratitude to all of you who are still staying with this story. Your patience, your support and encouragement have inspired me. I promised in the beginning I would never abandon it, and now that we are heading into the last, toughest to write chapters, I am glad we have taken this journey together.

Take me I'm yours because dreams are made of this. Forever there'll be a heaven in your kiss.

In the un-light just before dawn, when it really is the darkest, Hermione heard a soft knock. The door opened to reveal her parents standing uncertainly in the doorway.

Guilt warred with joy. She had been so caught up in her grief, she'd not even checked on her beloved parents. In the tangle of Severus' death, she had made no room in her heart to celebrate they were alive. Jean and Martin Granger. The Dynamic Duo, she had always called them. Being told of their death had set her adrift, orphaned her not only in body but in spirit. Realising they were actually alive at the same moment she thought her own life was forfeit had overwhelmed her with confusion.

Now that they were here, recovering from their ordeal, she felt the crushing band around her heart ease. If anyone could or would understand, it would be her parents. "Mum, Dad!" she cried, holding out her arms, and as one they rushed to her bedside. The three of them began talking at once.

"We've been worried sick-"

"I can't believe this has happened-"

"It's just been too much. I'm sorry-"

"Oh, darling, stop. You've nothing to apologise for!" her mother sobbed. Hermione's tears began anew. The two sets of arms which had first held her now enveloped her again. Their safe, solid comfort had been the bedrock of everything Hermione knew about the subject of love, everything she had taught Severus about the power of it. It was a sudden, devastating comfort; just as Severus' final, true declaration of devotion had taken place in the wake of what she had thought was her parents' deaths, so now they renewed their place in her life at the end of his.

It was the only true comfort she had found since he'd been killed.

Jean Granger was the first to pull back and wipe the tears from her daughter's face. She looked thinner, and there were lines on her face Hermione had not seen on that last Easter visit before all hell had broken loose. And her father's wiry hair, so like hers, was completely white now, instead of the salt-and-pepper it had been on that long-ago visit. But their loving eyes were just the same.

Her mother began haltingly at first. "Hermione, darling. I'm so sorry about your prof- Sev-" She paused, clearly unsure what to call him. Biting her lip, she added, "Was he really... were you married?"

Hermione nodded miserably. She looked up at her mother and father, hating the way the tears welled up against her will. "I don't think I can get over this." Her body ached with sadness, as her mother cradled her to her breast. She rocked her as she had when Hermione was a child, and rocking would heal everything.

She lay her head against her mother's shoulder. "He was the most unique, incredible person, Mum. He took such good care of me. I know you would have liked him. He loved and protected me with such strength and faith and passion." She began to pant. "He was complicated and intricate and full of contradictions, but he was so fierce and loyal and brave and beautiful. Oh, gods, Mum. I'm never going to hold him again, and every time I think about him, I can't breathe."

"I know, dearest. I know! I'm so sorry. But you must understand that time will help-"

"Mum, it's not just about time! He and I had a special bond. A magical bond, deep within our minds. We were linked. Our souls were linked, Mum." Hermione pulled away from her mother to look up at her. "And I'm not just talking about that romantic rubbish about 'two hearts beating as one.' It was a real, magical binding. We were joined. Our souls were bound together."

And then, with crystal clarity, Hermione understood. She was broken, as surely as if she'd been a wand snapped in half, with only her core holding her together. "My soul is with him."

Martin Granger patted her hand gently. "Of course it is, darling. I know you. You love very deeply-"

"No! I mean, my soul is literally with him. That's why I can't- oh, don't you see?" she said, tears streaming, clutching at his hands. "I'm never going to be whole again. I'm never going to be truly alive, because when he went, he took part of me with him!"

Sobbing, she allowed herself to be held. They tried to comfort her, but now that she knew why she could not stop hurting, Hermione let her grief drown her. There was no point in trying to be brave anymore.

There wasn't enough of her left alive to pretend bravery.

For almost an hour they sat and tried to calm and distract Hermione by filling her in on what had happened since they'd last seen one another. "It happened so fast," her mother was saying. "One moment, we were at the surgery, and these strange people walked in. Well," she said with a shrug, "we knew straightaway they were from the Wizarding world. You know how hopeless they can be at blending in with us Muggle folk..." She shook her head, remembering.

Hermione's father put a comforting hand on hers and took up the thread of the story, as was their wont when together. Hermione could never remember a time when her parents hadn't done this: tag-teaming their stories, swapping information. They reminded her absurdly of the Weasley twins when they did this.

"Your mother and I were alone. It was late, and the rest of the staff had left for the day. They Stunned us, then the next thing we knew, we were in some sort of holding cell. No idea where or why we were there. It felt like days before we were given any food or water. To this day I don't know how long we were left there."

He frowned, and Hermione's heart went out to him. She decided not to tell them they'd been locked away for the better part of a year. Telling them they had been declared dead and their house burned down had been traumatic enough.

Her mother continued, "As time passed, other people joined us. Mr. Ollivander, that sweet little old man who makes wands, was brought in." She shook her head, a bitter look in her eyes. "They treated him so cruelly. Your father and I helped as best we could, but they tormented the poor man abominably. He was quite weak when we were finally rescued."

Martin took up the story there. "Then, not too long ago, a young girl was brought in. Luna, she called herself." He smiled in his fatherly, fond way. "Such a lovely soul. A bit strange, even for you lot, but, still, a kind-hearted person. She told us about you and-" he hesitated, then sighed harshly. "You and your husband. She told us you- she said you... you killed Professor Dumbledore." He shook his head. "Well, your mother and I set her straight on that. 'My Hermione wouldn't harm a soul,' I said." He looked at her with troubled conviction.

"But she told us it was true," Jean said, and took her husband's hand. "And Mr. Ollivander said it was in the Daily Prophet." She looked from Martin to her daughter. "What happened, Hermione?" She nodded, as if agreeing with some internal monologue. "If it's true, then there must have been a reason."

And so Hermione told them everything that had happened, right up to the point where they'd been dragged from their cell just in time to see Bellatrix cursing her into the carpet at Malfoy Manor. As the story unfolded, Martin and Jean were horrified, stunned, surprised, delighted and devastated by turns.

"So the old man was dying anyway?" Martin said, frowning. Hermione nodded. He looked angry. "What a manipulative thing to do! To force you and your hus-Severus," he corrected himself, trying to show willing, "Severus, to do this thing. God, these Wizarding types just have their own code of ethics, don't they?"

"Dad," Hermione countered, her voice faintly reproachful. "I'm one of those 'Wizarding types.'"

He looked slightly chagrined, but held his ground. "But who forces innocent people to kill them just to set up an elaborate scheme?"

Hermione shrugged. "The type of person who wanted to see the Dark Lord defeated more than anything else. He wasn't perfect, but Dumbledore wanted us to have every advantage when it came to helping Harry defeat You-Know-Who. Even up to and including branding us as murderers so we could infiltrate the enemy."

Jean Granger pondered for a moment. "So you and Severus were spies?" Her voice sounded impressed, as if in this, too, she was proud of her accomplished daughter.

Hermione nodded. "And right up until last night, we were good ones." She closed her eyes as the grief swept over her, like a wave of nausea. Would she ever stop feeling these surges of painful, disconsolate loss?

From them, she'd learned that Dobby, the house-elf, had appeared shortly after they'd fainted from the pain of the Crucio and brought them, along with the others, to Shell Cottage, the safest of the remaining safe houses. He had gone back to get Hermione and Severus, but had not rescued them in time.

Apparently, Harry had been forced to issue the most imperious command to Dobby not to damage himself permanently. The hapless house-elf blamed himself completely. He had wept for hours, inconsolable in his failure.

"The woman, that dark one who was torturing you," Martin said, shuddering. "She was an awful sort. Called us horrible names - threatened to do the most unspeakable things to us. Thank God we didn't see her often."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, Hermione explained, "Bellatrix Lestrange was keeping you there to use against me. She was jealous over the way the Dark Lord favoured Severus and me over her at times." And I'll bet she planned to invite us over one night very soon, and present you to us exactly like poor Professor Burbage, just to test our loyalties in front of the Dark Lord. I will fight for the privilege of gutting you like a fish, Bellatrix Lestrange.

As if sensing her daughter's vengeful thoughts, Jean Granger pulled Hermione close. "Oh, darling, we've all been through such hell. I truly don't know how you and your Severus were able to hang on as long as you did."

Hermione shrugged. "We hung on because we loved each other." She could not bring herself to talk about that last awful argument. She could barely make herself think of it.

Jean continued, "But we're a family, and we Grangers are tough. We're going to get through this, Hermione, and so will you." She looked across at her husband, who nodded and put his arms around his daughter.

Hermione felt their love like a balm over her broken spirit. It was so typical of them. On the day she received her Hogwarts letter, they had been gobsmacked, to say the least. But the incredible news their daughter was a witch had been met with strength and a firm determination to accept and thrive within the changes to their lives. Even her father, who grew antsy if the Daily Mail didn't arrive at the same time every day, accepted his daughter's uniqueness, because his love for her overrode his need for habit. Throughout her life, they had been the most unflappable duo, meeting extraordinary paradigm shifts in the fabric of their days with almost bemused encouragement.

When she'd hinted to her mother on that long-ago day that she was in love with Severus, her mother had taken the news in that characteristically open, trusting way that even now moved Hermione. When it came to the daughter they loved, nothing was past consideration. They had never been the type to shy away from a truth, even if it frightened them, and they'd instilled that same attitude in her.

Her father added, "We're not quite back to fighting strength, but we're almost there. That pretty little French girl has been dosing us with potions, and personally, I feel one hundred percent better." He fixed his daughter with a keen look. "We're going to help. Whatever we need to do, we're with you, Hermione. If that means fighting, we'll be with the medics. Both your mother and I are trained in first aid, so we can help there. But however you need us, use us."

His voice broke, and for the first time in Hermione's life, she saw tears in her stalwart father's eyes. "We're going to fight to honour that man of yours. We're going to make sure everyone knows that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger were on the right side."

Hermione hugged her father fiercely. When she pulled back, she corrected him gently. "Hermione Granger-Snape, Dad." Pride stiffened her spine.

"My name is Hermione Granger-Snape."

Martin and Jean left shortly after, promising to return with something to eat, and maybe some Dreamless Sleep Draught. Hermione thanked them, but knew she was in no fit shape for food. The idea of it made her feel unwell.

As she waited for them to return, the exhaustion of the horrific evening found her. She fell into a thin, restless sleep and dreamed of Severus. He was standing in the middle of what looked like a desert, and he was talking to someone. Suddenly his stern features softened, and he and his companion turned and looked right at her. Even though Hermione could not hear the conversation, she instinctively knew he was talking about her.

A gust of wind picked up the cloak Severus was wearing, whipping it around his body. The man with him reached up and plucked it from his shoulders. He was mother-naked underneath, and looked so pale and vulnerable that all of Hermione's protective love reached out to him. In that moment, he turned to her as if to welcome her.

Just as she started for him, he disappeared with a bright flash of light that burned Hermione's retinas, and the light was replaced by sound, a sound that started out as a distant hum and came rapidly barreling into her consciousness like a freight train-

HE WAS HERE HE WAS ALIVE HE WAS HERE HERE HERE HERE I AM HERE I AM ALIVE I AM HERE I AM HERE I AM I AM I AM

A huge crash of thunder blasted inside the cottage. Lightning scored the night with illumination so dazzling it could be seen through the closed eyes of every inhabitant, jolting them awake.

Martin and Jean hurried into Hermione's room just as she bolted upright in bed, screaming her husband's name.

"SEVERUS!"

Hermione flew past her parents into the hall and into the adjoining room, which was bathed in light and sound, as if a huge spotlight was blazing from within. She started to dash headlong into the light, heedless of the hands and voices urging caution, but then she froze and all the breath left her lungs. For a moment Hermione stood still, air-bereft, thinking it was just a dream and praying it wasn't and thinking if it was she was going to die and –

He was there.

Severus Granger-Snape stood beside the bed: alive, naked, shining like silver.

He looked down at himself, then up at her. His expression changed from confusion to shock to fear to joy, and the glow grew blindingly white as he held out his arms to her. His voice roared into her head with the power and triumph of an anthem. Hermione! Lass, I have returned to you!

Hermione ran into the room, tripping over her long robe as she stumbled toward him. With a startled cry, she fell, her arms windmilling wildly, but he effortlessly caught her in his arms and crushed her to his chest before she hit the floor. She sobbed his name, grabbing at his shoulders, flinging her arms around his neck, totally overwhelmed with his strong embrace, his blinding light, his alive-ness.

He lifted her up until she was wrapped around him, clutching at him like a vine, and he covered her face with kisses. "Hermione," he whispered, over and over, his kisses hot and frantic, his face as warm as the desert in her dream. "Hermione, my girl," he moaned, and she responded in kind, kissing him with the same wild elation.

The blaze of miracle candlepower that had borne Severus back into her arms gradually faded, leaving the room dark, lit only by the black mourning candles Luna had transfigured. Hermione buried her face against his pale, flawless throat. His arms tightened around her painfully, as if she were the dream. Then one hand cupped her chin and held her head so that their eyes met. Hermione looked up into her husband's face, studying it, memorising it all over again: those precious angles and lovely planes, his dark, liquid black eyes, his finely sculpted mouth, his expressive brows. He was really here, and it wasn't a dream. His body, which had been cold and still mere moments before, was warm and pulsing with life, and the heartbeat she had heard against her ear was as strong and sure and constant as it had ever been.

With a wry smile, his beautiful voice washed over the room like sunlight. "Do you think that anything could come between us, lass?"

Hermione gasped; from within, her soul rejoiced, instantly restored by his healing voice. It was the same deep, mellifluous baritone she knew so well, but it sounded, if possible, even more beguiling. It had harmonics and overtones she had never heard before. It was like hearing a familiar voice, coming from a younger throat. It had a youthful lilt to the deep bass notes, giving it a musical quality. It was the sweetest sound she thought to never hear again.

Pressing as close as she could get, she whispered, "Say something else."

He chuckled softly. "And what would you have me say, my girl?"

Hermione laughed shakily. "Anything. Just to hear your voice again."

His warm lips brushed against her forehead. In a voice so low it was a dark whisper in her ear, he replied, "I'll say anything you wish, as long as you'll let me speak to you." He tenderly touched her cheek, and the expression on his face reflected his wonder at returning to life, his joy at touching her again, all bound in the overwhelming realisation that he had literally returned from the grave. His words trembled with emotion as he looked down at her, an expression of awe on his angular face. "The only thing I want to say is, thank Merlin you're alright, and that I love you."

Then he grasped her head in his hands and plundered her mouth in the most searing, passionate kiss he had ever given her.

Dimly, she heard a collective gasp from the crowd standing in the doorway. Heedless of the audience, Hermione gave herself to her husband, savouring the kiss that by rights she should have never tasted again.

Finally, she heard the unmistakable sound of a throat being cleared, and Severus reluctantly raised his head. As he protectively enclosed her in his arms, he murmured, "I think the time for reciting Shakespeare will have to wait, lass. We appear to have company."

Hermione nodded, then turned to the multitude of witches and wizards crowded just inside of the door of the room, their faces shocked and conflicted. With the exception of her parents, who were looking on with a mixture of joy and wonder, wands were in the hands of everyone present. She placed her body between Severus and the others. Brushing her tears aside, she declared, "If you're here to do anything other than welcome my husband back to the land of the living, I'm warning you: you'll have a hell of a fight on your hands."

Ron was the first to find his voice. He was whey-faced behind his freckles. "What, pick a fight with you? Bloody hell, Hermione, we've just seen someone raised from the bloody dead. I doubt I could cast a shoelace-tying charm right now."

Severus smirked, drawling, "And there are those who question why I fear for the future of the Wizarding world, Mr. Weasley."

Ron started, then grinned ruefully. "Shut it, Snape. Just because you've done the Merlin-freed-from-a-tree shuffle doesn't mean we still have to put up with your snark."

From behind, Hermione heard her husband's soft answering laughter, and the tension eased a bit. Then Harry stepped into the room, wand raised.

Hermione stood her ground. "Harry," she said, low, warningly.

"Hermione, I know you want this to be your husband-"

"It is my husband, Harry," she replied, raising her own wand in a defensive pose.

Harry refused to back down. "People don't just rise from the dead, even in the Wizarding world, Hermione." He gestured toward the back corner. "There was someone with him in the room. I saw him. How do we know this isn't some sort of trick?"

"Oh, that was Regulus Black."

All heads turned toward Luna. She had been standing by the bed unnoticed, her fey eyes as serene and untroubled as always. "I was sitting with the Professor." She turned to Severus. "By the way, it's lovely to see you alive again, sir."

"I find myself echoing your sentiments, Miss Lovegood. Thank you."

Hermione grinned in spite of the tense situation. Only Severus Snape could be this steady with his wife acting as his only shield between a band of hostile wizards and his vulnerable bits.

"Anyway," Luna continued, examining her nails, "Reg told me that Professor Snape had unfinished business and had to come back." She turned to Hermione with a smile. "I was just about to come and wake you when I heard you call the professor's name. And then, of course, he was awake."

"And a whole lot of naked. What happened to his clothes?" Ron asked, looking past Hermione to Severus' nude form. Trust Ron to be gaping over your privates while everyone else is pondering the mysteries of life, Hermione thought.

The same thing occurred to me, came the wry reply, and Hermione could hear a smile in his tone.

"You two are doing that thing again, aren't you?" Ron said. He turned to the others. "They can hear one another's thoughts, you know." He grimaced. "It makes me paranoid. I always get the feeling they're saying things about me behind me back."

"That's because we usually are, Mr. Weasley," Severus retorted, earning a snicker from the group.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione quickly transfigured the bed clothes into a cloak, and draped it over Severus' shoulders. He released her only long enough to perform this task, then put his arms around her again.

"I suspect the light burned your clothes away," Luna replied. "It was extremely bright, you see. If Reg hadn't warned me to shield my eyes, I think I might have been blinded. Returning from beyond the veil requires a lot of energy, you know."

Armed with this information, the group looked around at one another. "I don't know what to think," Harry said, uncertainly.

"I'm telling you, Harry, this is my husband. I have ways of knowing," Hermione snarled through clenched teeth.

"Harry, I just told you," Ron said, regarding his friend uneasily. "They read one another's thoughts."

Ignoring his friend, Harry's wand remained trained on Severus. "Tell me something that only you and I would know."

Severus breathed quietly. "Very well, Mr. Potter."

Hermione could feel indignant anger swelling in her chest. "Harry, the man has just come back from the dead. Severus does not have to prove anything to anyone. The way you're behaving, anyone would think you're jealous that you're no longer the only one who survived You-Know-Who's Avada!"

From behind, Severus squeezed her shoulders, and she turned to see a familiar frown on his face. "It's alright, Hermione. Try to look at it from his vantage point." He looked up at the tableau in the doorway. "I would be equally as wary."

Bill Weasley cut in. "C'mon, everyone. This is not a conversation that we need to hear." He began to usher the rest of the household out of the room.

Hermione's parents lingered a moment longer. Jean Granger looked at her daughter. "We'll be right outside, if you need us, dear." She took Martin's proffered hand, then turned to her son-in-law. "I suppose under the circumstances, saying 'it's nice to meet you' comes across as a little bland. One doesn't know how to address a son-in-law they didn't know they had in the best of times, but in this case..." She trailed off.

Severus took pity on her. "Yes, Mrs. Granger, it is a situation that I am puzzling over myself. Would it suffice to say I am glad you are alive, and that I hope you, in return, are glad I'm your new son-in law?"

Martin nodded. "That's a good enough start for me."

Jean leaned closer. Confidentially, she added, "I hope we'll get to speak soon. I must say, life as Hermione's parents has never been dull, but I think this just about takes the ginger biscuit."

Severus bowed to his mother-in-law. "Indeed. We will talk soon." He regarded Hermione's parents thoughtfully, then added, "Thank you."

"Thank you for what?" asked Martin.

Severus glanced at his wife's curly head, then back to her father. "For her."

Martin and Jean exchanged a look, as if they, too, could read one another's thoughts. Jean replied, "Call if you need us."

Hermione watched as her parents left the room, and the door softly closed, leaving Severus, Hermione and Harry alone. She turned back to Harry, loaded for bear. "Say what you have to say, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione, I just want the truth. I'm so bloody sick of being told half truths and hints and veiled insinuations. We are running out of time." He looked beyond her to Severus. "I have learned that I have to die in order to fulfill the prophecy. I know I'm a Horcrux." With a look of pleading in his bright green eyes, Harry said, "I just want to know the things you didn't tell Dumbledore in your memories."

Severus looked grim but relieved. "So you viewed them?" he asked. When Harry nodded, Severus shrugged. "Then I would think my motives were self-evident, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, but held his ground. "I want to hear them from you."

Sensing Hermione's boiling point was reaching critical levels, Severus put a hand on her shoulder. "Very well. I will answer your questions, and I will accept your condemnation, but then I must ask that we also discuss this Horcrux you have not been able to destroy."

Harry's eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"

Severus almost, but not quite rolled his eyes. "I've been reliably informed by the man who stole it in the first place." He paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts, then began, "Your mother and I became friends before we started school, Mr. Potter. I fell in love with her, but we became estranged, and because of the prophecy I overheard, the Dark Lord targeted her. And because of that, he killed your parents, and tried to kill you."

When Harry didn't reply, Severus went on. "Mr. Potter, I was a foolish, selfish man who believed with all my heart Lily would have chosen me had not James Potter and his friends performed every act of humiliation upon me to reduce me in her eyes. I believed that.

"But I was the one who called your mother a Mudblood. I was the one who drove her away." He lowered his head. "And yes, when I told the Dark Lord that you and Mr. Longbottom were the two possibilities for fulfilling the prophecy, he promised me that he would spare Lily's life as my reward. So, while I didn't tell him outright that you were the one, I didn't discourage him, either."

His voice was hollow with regret. "I should have known he had no intention of saving Lily for me. In the Dark Lord's mind, no one can be more important to a Death Eater than him. The moment I declared my intentions for your mother, she was marked for death. When I found out he'd killed Lily and James, I threw myself at Albus' feet and pleaded for him to take me to Azkaban. Instead, he took me to a different prison: Hogwarts, where I became his spy."

Harry was breathing hard. "So you didn't know Wormtail was their secret keeper?"

Severus shook his head. "No. Until it was revealed otherwise in your third year at Hogwarts, I had believed with all my heart that Sirius had-"

"I know," Harry broke in, his face etched with pain. "I saw the memory of him taunting you when he – he tried to hurt Hermione." He shook his head. "Sirius was in love with my mother too, wasn't he?"

Severus shrugged. "It is not for me to say." His expression softened, and he added quietly, "So many of us were." Hermione thought he looked wistful, but without the horrible, crushing guilt that had dogged him during the early days of their burgeoning relationship. "She had been my first friend, and like so many boys, I mistook that friendship to be something more than it really was." He frowned. "My family was dirt poor. I had never had anything to call my own before Lily came into my life. I was full of petty jealousy and insecurity, and that is a very volatile potion in the cauldron of the heart, especially in the heart of a young man as resentful and covetous as I."

Harry rubbed at his forehead, as if his scar hurt. "I-I saw from the memories that you asked her to forgive you, but she wouldn't." He looked at Severus with something almost akin to pity. "Perhaps if she had, things might have turned out differently."

The trio were silent for a time, the ticking clock their only accompaniment. Finally, Harry said, "I don't really understand how I feel about this. I want to hate you, because you targeted my parents. But you didn't betray their hiding place, and you didn't cast the Killing Curse on my mother."

"No. A part of me died that night, Mr. Potter," Severus replied, holding onto Hermione's hand. "For many years I told myself I was unforgivable."

"No." The two men turned to Hermione. She was looking at Severus. "Dumbledore told you that you were unforgivable." She turned back to Harry. "Severus wasn't even twenty years old! He was a child caught up between the lies of a madman and the machinations of an arrogant wizard who saw him as nothing more than a tool. Severus has paid for what he did. Harry, from the moment your parents were killed, this man has dedicated his life to protecting you! You saw the memories. You've seen it time and time again while we were at Hogwarts! Do you think that's going to change?" She squeezed Severus' hand. Pleadingly she said, "Grant him his forgiveness, Harry. He deserves it."

Severus returned the squeeze. Patiently, he said, "Hermione, the shared history between myself and Mr. Potter is not a pleasant one. I looked at him and saw his father. I visited James Potter's sins on him every chance I got. I have not been kind to him, even as I sought to protect him. I cannot expect anything from Mr. Potter other than his contempt and mistrust." He looked at Harry. "But at least it will be honest hatred, for the right reasons, and not for half-truths, hints and veiled insinuations."

Harry and Severus regarded one another silently. Finally, Harry said, "I can't afford to hate you, Snape. Whether or not I'll ever learn to like you is another matter, but I can at least forgive you." Harry held out his hand.

As they shook hands, Severus replied, "That was the most I ever hoped to receive, Mr. Potter."

The tension in the room dissipated, and gradually the three of them relaxed. Quietly, Harry asked, "Did you see them? Any of them? When you were, you know, wherever you were?"

Severus grew still, and his body radiated a sudden warmth. Hermione could feel it wash over her, and he leaned against her. "I heard them. I heard their love and joy and purpose." Hermione looked up into his pale, ascetic face, and was stunned at the awe and reverence she saw in his eyes. His voice was as soft and stunned as a child's. "They are there, and they are watching over us all." After the slightest of hesitations, Severus added, "But I will also tell you this, Mr. Potter. I, too, was one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes."

Hermione gasped in shock, and he turned to her with a smile. "I'll explain it all later, lass, but yes, I, too, was a possibility for the prophecy, like Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom." He glanced at Harry. "So perhaps, if my experience is anything to judge upon, the future may not be as bleak as you think."

The three of them stood quietly, lost in their thoughts: Harry hopeful, Severus poised, Hermione relieved. The day grew lighter as dawn broke over the sea, bathing the room in a pearly, peach-coloured light, but they took little notice of it. Hermione could feel Severus' thoughts as they lapped against hers like gentle waves upon a shore. They were soothing, and she leaned against him, taking in his solid, generous warmth.

Harry was the first to break the silence. He regarded Snape thoughtfully. "You told us when we first arrived at Hogwarts that you could show us how to put a stopper in death. And all this time I thought it was just a figure of speech." Shaking his head at the wonder of it all, Harry moved to the door, then hesitated and turned around again. "You know, the Sorting Hat very nearly placed me in Slytherin."

Severus nodded. "I know. It told me," he added dryly. "I would sometimes think of you and Draco Malfoy together in my House and shudder at the implications."

To his surprise, Harry laughed. "So did I." He quieted, then nodded, as if his mind was made up. "There is a lot to be done. We've got a war council to create, Snape."

Harry glanced at Hermione and gave her a crooked smile. "We need to rethink our tactics. They say it takes a thief to catch a thief." He looked at Severus. "I think it will take a Slytherin to defeat a Slytherin." His bright green eyes were grim. "With you gone from Hogwarts, I'm afraid to even think about how Ginny and the others will fare."

"So am I, Mr. Potter-"

"Harry. If we're going to win this war together, I think formalities are probably a waste of time at this point in the proceedings."

Severus' mouth twitched, and Hermione sensed the conflicting emotions within. "In that, case, Harry, perhaps we can meet with the others later in the day, and discuss strategy. Slytherin strategy," he added wryly.

Harry nodded. "I'll tell the others." He placed his hand on the doorknob, and turned back. "I'd get rested, if I were you. Killing that Horcrux isn't going to be as easy as you think." He smirked, "Even for you, the Professor-Who-Lived."

Harry closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone. With indecent speed, Hermione locked the door, warded it like a Gringotts vault and placed a blanket-heavy Silencing charm around the room. Turning back, she raced into his waiting arms, gazing up at him with stunned, simple joy.

He sighed as she melded against his body. He cupped her silken cheek and looked down into her face. "There are so many things I must tell you," he said, his body responding to her soft warmth, "but for the life of me, I can't think of a single one of them."

"You can tell me everything later," she said, her soft eyes drinking him in. "Right now all I can think about is getting you naked and showing you just how happy I am that you're alive. But first," she added soberly, "There's something important you have to see."

"What?" he asked, alarmed at the sudden change. "Are you unwell? Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, her face full of wonder. "Nothing's wrong at all, Severus. Look!" Hermione indicated a mirror over a little dressing table. Obediently, Severus followed her and leaned forward to see the reflection of a different man.

His crow's feet, borne of years squinting into dim cauldrons ... the harsh lines of a million frowns ... the vertical score between his brows from every scowl he'd drawn – all were gone.

He looked as young as Hermione. No wonder Potter had been disbelieving.

"Merlin," he breathed, peering closer. Like any man who looked at his face every day, he was well familiar with every aspect of it. His hair was still lank and choppy, his nose imposing, and his teeth were in the same crooked configuration as they'd been when they had first grown out of his gums. These were part of the roadmap of his harsh upbringing and the even harsher life he'd chosen for himself. Even they looked better, less hard-edged, more acceptable.

From behind his shoulder, Hermione caught his eye in their reflection. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "You are even more beautiful," she said, her glowing smile warm with pride.

He snorted. "I have never been beautiful, in anyone's eyes but yours, Hermione." Nevertheless, he could not stop staring at his reflection. He recognised this face; oh, yes. He'd studied this face just as carefully, the night he'd taken his Dark Mark. But even then, he had not looked this serene or comely.

He'd been allowed to hit the reset button and start over.

He turned from the mirror to Hermione. Looking into her honey-brown eyes, his love for her washed over him like a desert breeze, and his renewed body immediately responded. Her eyes widened, then glowed with approval.

"Do you still want to get me naked, witch?" he said, his voice silky and sensuous to his own ears.

Hermione gave him a wicked little grin. "More than ever."

"Then come here," he commanded, his voice full of promises. She flew into arms, carrying with her a fire that licked over his body, settling into his veins like heady wine. He sensed the same intoxicating flush within her mind; it was deep and solid, an orgasm in and of itself. He pulled her closer. She closed her eyes and rubbed against him like a cat.

It's been so long, Severus. Gods, I want you! The communion between them felt blissfully, wholesomely good, like a knowing hand scratching his back in all those hard to reach places. As their thoughts entwined, their bodies grew hot as they ground against one another, trying to find that sweet friction they needed.

With a ragged moan, he grasped the back of her head and kissed her desperately, parting her heart-shaped lips and sucking her tongue into his mouth. She scrabbled her fingers along his back as he plundered her with abandon. Her kisses had always intoxicated him, and he greedily drank down her moans, nourishing her with growls of his own.

He all but tore the robe from her body as she writhed against him with pagan hunger. Her hands were everywhere - caressing his face, sliding over his chest, leaving a trail of fire down his body until finally she took him in hand, stroking him with movements that were both thrilling and familiar.

With a gasp, she broke away from his suffocating kiss and leaned forward, flicking his nipple with her tongue. He hissed as she sucked it into her mouth, sending sparks of arousal sizzling up his spine. His hands braided into her hair, caressing her scalp, pressing her close, urging her to suck harder, to mark him with her teeth and lips and tongue.

His eyes closed as she released his nipple and slid down onto her knees. A soft palm cupped his balls, and he shivered as she caressed him. "Oh, Merlin," he whimpered as her mouth engulfed him. The pulses of heat surging throughout his body made his knees buckle and his eyes roll back in his head.

Nearly swooning, Severus sagged down onto the bed as Hermione fondled him. He fell back, his legs dangling off the edge, his hips churning as she licked him from perineum to the tip of his already-glistening cock. Pleasure flashed through him like lightning before a storm.

In one swift, sure motion, he rose from the bed and pulled her up and onto it, scrambling to turn them until he was on top of her. He pressed her into the mattress, kissing her feverishly, parting her thighs until he was nestled between them, his raging erection screaming for her. His fingers blindly enclosed on her soft, warm breasts, and he kneaded the lovely mounds, piercing his palms with her tight, pink nipples. They were hard, and begging for his mouth. Bending forward, he flicked his tongue over the hard flesh, reveling in her mewl of delight. His lips cradled the delectable little tit and suckled it hard, the way she liked it. She was moaning with every breath, clasping his head to her breast, wanting more. He scraped his teeth against the tip, which sent a jolt of electricity from her mind directly down into his balls. His cock was aching, making its presence known, refusing to be denied one second longer.

"Hermione," he rasped, "I need you-"

"Yes!" She was already pulling him where she wanted him to be, her eyes lust-glazed and burning. "We can take our time later. I need you inside me now, please, Severus."

"Oh gods, yes," he moaned, poised over her. He had wanted to go slowly, to make up for the past few weeks of denial, but the moment the tip of his cock slipped inside her hot, wet core, he was lost. He plunged into her and they both cried out as his greedy cock opened and stretched and filled her.

In that stunning moment, Severus stilled, trying to breathe, trying not to come. This was more glorious than the first time he'd lain with her and taken her virginity. This was pure innocence and magic; the entire lexicon of sex and passion, rewritten by their bodies. As he drew back for the next deep plunge, the sensation racing over his cock nearly blinded him.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione," he whimpered, teeth clenched. She looked up at him, her face reflecting his bliss, and he dove back into her, making them both shout into the room. "Gods, you are perfect," he groaned. "So tight and hot and sweet..." He cradled her to his chest, and began to move, his rhythm solid and sure, each deep thrust wrenching a gasp from her lips.

"I want more," she panted, and he felt her body surge against his, her hips churning against his. She sounded frantic and hungry. "More, Severus, please. I want more."

Her pleas ignited him, and he raised himself on his forearms. His hand reached between them and stroked her clit, tweaking and flicking it mercilessly. She began to shudder. "If you want more, lass," he growled, feeling her swell beneath his fingers, "I'll give you all you can take."

She closed her eyes, a look of almost painful anticipation flitting across her lovely face. "Then do it," she cried. "Fuck me, Severus. Hard." She closed her eyes and moaned feverishly as he bucked against her.

He kissed her wildly, his fingers stroking the little pearly button. "Hard and fast, like you like it, my girl? Is that what you want? Does my girl want me to fuck her hard?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He pushed himself up on his hands, and allowed his hips to swing free, like a pendulum, feeling her luscious, tight heat sear his cock as he rocked into her. He spread his knees for greater purchase, and slammed into her, fucking her until she was moaning his name with each breath. She met his driving thrusts with her own; their bodies crashed together wildly. His pace was merciless, destroying coherent thought. He hooked her knees over his arms, angling her hips higher, until his relentless thrusts met the soft little ring of flesh within. She threw back her head and howled like an animal. Her climax hit them both like a clap of thunder, and Hermione screamed as she came in great, rapturous spasms.

"That's it. Oh yes," he roared, as her body tensed. "That's what I want. Give it to me, Hermione." Severus cursed helplessly as each pulse clutched his cock like a hundred tiny mouths licking and sucking his shaft. He released her thighs as he rode out the waves of her orgasm, slowing his thrusts as she writhed helplessly beneath him. He crooned to her, calling her sweet names, kissing her swollen lips, reveling in her glorious body. She held him, telling him how much she loved him, how much she needed him, wanted him.

He locked his hands beneath the small of her back and widened his thighs. Holding her torso still, he fucked her, his hips rocking back and forth, rolling, gyrating in and out of her pussy. "Come on, girl," he hissed, his mouth close to her ear. "So good... yesss... Just like that...Oh, lass, you're so sweet to fuck..." Hermione hooked her thighs around his waist, and urged him on, her ragged moans hot in his ear. His pounding hips became a blur as he stoked into her tight heat. "So... close... so...fucking...close..." he chanted, eyes closed, his release tingling the tip of his cock with white-hot sparks of pleasure.

As if ignited by these sparks, his magic bloomed free. Instinctively Severus pressed his lips between her breasts, pushing the magic into her body. His groin flooded with molten lava, and he barked a sharp sound of anticipation. He was coming, oh gods, yes, he was going to come, and it would incinerate them both, purifying and refining and making them perfect –

The magic flew wildly unfettered from him, and in that instant Severus came with a roar of ecstasy, gushing his seed into Hermione's womb. His head kicked back, and he bellowed his release as pulse after pulse robbed him of thought, sight and speech, and he saw red spots behind his eyes. She keened brokenly as she climaxed again, pulling him to her as if she would never let him go again. He cried out her name with each stabbing thrust, until they were both dazed and spent and reduced to a gasping, twitching jumble of arms and legs.

Gradually, Severus' wildly pounding heart slowed. He looked down at Hermione, his heart so full of love and gratitude he wanted to weep. She was lying beneath him, flushed, panting, her own tears of release sliding down her temples. He kissed them away. She whimpered his name, and he soothed her, brought her back down. "Shh. It's alright, lass," he rumbled, his voice hoarse. He shifted, taking his weight off her hips, and wiping the sweat from his face.

He gazed down at her body and smiled at what he saw. From between her breasts, down to the pleasure-soaked curls of her mons, Dolohov's curse was no more.

He stroked the lovely, flawless skin. Although it thrilled him, it did not surprise him. All through their marriage, Hermione had directed their magic to him, healing his scars, his soul, never taking anything for herself. Now he had given back to her, and he understood at last why she allowed her magic to fly so freely over him, bathing him clean. It was good to let it go, to send it just where it was needed.

Severus kissed every inch of the miracle. "My love," he murmured as he cradled her in his arms. "My Hermione."

Take Me I'm Yours - Squeeze