Chapter 5

A/N: Well, this is the end. I'd like to give a huge thank you to phoenix, who stepped up to help me get this final chapter in shape for posting. And I'd like to thank you for reading. Enjoy!

The next morning, Severus woke up entangled with Hermione on a small bed. Her hair was in his mouth, and her leg was hanging off the bed. Severus pushed the mass of hair that was trying to smother him away from his face and began to disentangle himself from his partner. Pity she would probably take Levicorpus the wrong way, he thought as her elbow slipped and hit him in the chest.

Still, he managed to extricate himself and make his way to the bathroom. He closed the door and looked in the mirror. Still too pale, though there was a livid bruise on his neck. He stared at the love bite, marveling at it. He honestly could not recall when that had happened, but it was enough to drive away any doubts about what happened. He had told her truthfully last night ... for as long as he could keep her, he would.

He left the bathroom to get his clothes for the day, expecting to find Hermione still asleep. Instead, she was awake and sitting on the bed, clothed only in her halo of hair like a modern-day Lady Godiva. Idly, he wondered if she would be willing to learn some broom riding tricks with him.

"Severus," she said in her "I am a serious professional" voice. "About last night...," her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath before continuing nervously, "I hope that you don't think things are going to go back to the way they were before."

"Never. You are mine, Hermione. And I, yours. For as long as I can keep you," Severus said fiercely.

"Good!" Hermione said brightly. "Now that that's settled, would you like to join me in the shower?"

Severus gathered his toiletries and walked over to the bathroom. "Of course."

They killed the hot water in the shower and may have inadvertently done water damage to the ceiling and the floor, but eventually, they emerged clean and dry from the bathroom, ready to finish their work in Perrinwolde. Today, they would make sure that the satyr behind the village's odd fertility was kept in check by the local wizarding community.

Dressed in their black robes and professional miens in place, they journeyed into the village. This time, they were looking for the wizards of Perrinwolde. They weren't hard to find. Whereas the villagers gathered in the pub at night, the eldest wizards gathered there by day. Nursing bottles of butterbeer and glasses of gillywater, the four wizards and one witch who lived in the village proper spent their days in the pub, gossiping and working quietly. The bartender gave their activities a blind eye.

Hermione watched as one wizard, the oldest of the lot, gestured with his wand at his witch companion. Red sparks came out the end, setting the table and his robes to smolder. With a sigh that indicated this was all too frequent an occurrence, the witch drew her wand and set the table and the wizard's robes to right. The bartender watched this all happen while polishing glasses without a word or a flicker of distress.

She looked askance at Severus, and he bent down to whisper in her ear, "The bartender is most likely a squib. In rural villages, it's not all that unusual for wizards and Muggles to live side by side. Though, this is a bit much even for that standard."

Hermione nodded and smoothed her expression into one of pleasant sweetness. With older wizards, she had learned that it was best to play the innocent. She would dig up the information they needed while Severus checked the fountain over.

After he left, she walked over to the group, "Do you mind if I have a seat here?" she asked, pitching her voice to sound younger than normal.

Five sets of eyes swiveled to her, appraising. It was the witch who nodded assent, and Hermione sat at her table alongside the wizard who had set his robes on fire. Hermione wished she's taken the time to cast a fire-retardant spell on her person, but it was too late now.

Before Hermione could speak, the witch croaked in a rich voice broken with age, "You'd be the lady Unspeakable from the Ministry, aye?"

"Yes, I am Unspeakable Granger."

"Yeah, we heard tell of you in the pub last night. You're here about Pan's blessing?"

"Not exactly," Hermione replied, squirming inside. This was not something she wanted to discuss, especially with wizards old enough to be her great-grandparents. Still, this was the job. "I'd like to discuss the presence of a satyr in Perrinwolde."

"A satyr?" spat the elder wizard at the table with her. "Only satyrs round here are Pan and his get. Reason this village prospers."

"Yes, well, this is a matter of concern," Hermione began before she was interrupted by another wizard, this one leaning over from a neighboring table and possessing a beard to rival Dumbledore's.

"How so, young one? Satyrs bring pleasure and blessings to the lands and people. Those without the sense to leave them be are the only ones bothered by them."

"Really?" replied Hermione coolly. For all that she pretended youthful innocence, she hated being addressed as a child. Dropping the demeanor, she addressed the wizard with authority and asperity. "Satyrs are classed as Level Three dark creatures by the Office for Beast and Beings. Their presence in this village has caused such unnatural levels of crop and livestock fertility that it has attracted the attention of the Muggle domestic government. Need I remind you that should they descend on this village, any evidence of such creatures ... let alone your own august presences ... would be considered a gross violation of the International Statute of Secrecy? So, elder," she said with a nod at Long Beard, "let's discuss how we can prevent that."

"I still don't see what the cause for worry is. Despite what William and Alfred have said, no one has sighted a satyr in over a hundred years. Not even during Pan's festival, when I assure you, Unspeakable Granger, enough alcohol and Muggle drugs flow to ensure that no such sighting would be believed to be real the next day."

"Madam, I must beg to differ. My partner and I encountered a satyr last night."

The witch laughed. "Did you now? Oh, no wonder you're so full of questions today! Bet he didn't do you a lick of harm, now did he?" she said with a knowing leer.

Hermione flushed before responding sharply, "That's debatable."

The witch laughed and patted her on her leg. "It's quite alright, nothing to be embarrassed about. Satyrs come to the young for pleasure, but if you truly don't want them there, they won't be."

Long Beard, aka Alfred, cackled, "Be a stronger man than any here to say no to one when they wanted. Stronger woman, too!"

The witch glared at him before returning to Hermione with kindness in her eyes. "Unspeakable Granger, other than you, no one has seen a satyr for generations. Muggles can't see them at all unless they want to and the satyr wills it. Nothing that happens under the influence of a satyr is against the participant's will.

"We'll keep an eye out for any Muggle officials and lead them by the nose should they want to investigate any old 'legends' or 'regional fertility festivals' so the Statute will stand. Meanwhile, I'm not sure what else we can do. No one in Perrinwolde will abandon Pan's fest, not when it works. I'm afraid we're at an impasse."

Hermione stood and held out her hand to the witch. "Thank you for your time..."

The witch stood and shook Hermione's hand. "Jocasta. Jocasta MacDonald. Thank you for hearing us out, Unspeakable Granger. We like our life here in the village and like not having to hide from our neighbors. We'll do what we must to preserve that."

Hermione nodded and replied. "Thank you, Jocasta."

She nodded to the wizards and left to meet Severus. She wondered how he would feel about getting take away and spending the night at her place. She had her wizard and no intention of letting him go.

Severus had returned to the fountain after leaving Hermione at the pub. He stood before the crude stone statue adorning the fountain, noting its knowing smile. In his hand, he fondled a galleon. He wasn't sure if he was saying thanks or paying off the god to stay away from them now that they found one another.

He was ready to cast the coin into the fountain when a playful feminine voice stopped him. "Oh, Severus Snape, you've no need to cast that wish. I told you, you're attentions were wanted."

Severus whirled around, robes snapping behind him, and ended with his wand drawn and pointed at the same luscious creature he had met the night before. This time, she was clothed, her breasts hidden in a simple halter and a loincloth acting as a skirt. Severus realized he felt normal in her presence; no spike of desire thudded through him at her arrival. Slowly, he lowered his wand.

"Satyr," he said.

"Severus Snape. Well, I can see her wish came true. And you are happy; no wish is needed that my father could grant you. So do not waste your coin," she said. She walked past him and seated herself on the rim of the fountain.

"I came for more than just a wish," Severus began. "I came to ensure the safety of the people of this village from you and your ilk."

"Oh, they are safe from us, Severus Snape," she said with a trill of laughter.

"Really? Is that how you wound up in my room last night?"

She pouted at him and kicked her legs against the fountain. "Again, I was invited. We do not go where we are not wanted. You know this. The wise ones of the village know this. Even the children know this.

"We serve this village, Severus Snape. They honor my father and give us our due in an age where we are forgotten as myths. We help them as we can and protect them from harm. You have no need to fear; no one is in danger from us unless they seek to bring down this village."

Severus stared and tossed the coin past her into the fountain, where it landed without a ripple. "My thanks," he said, and he left he grove. It was time to meet up with Hermione and head back to London. He wondered how she felt about Spanish food? He knew of a fantastic restaurant that he would love to share with her, followed by spending the night at his place, which happened to be a block away. He had his witch and no intention of letting her go.

Behind him, laughter, both masculine and feminine, echoed from the trees.