Baa Baa Black Sheep, Have You Any Wool Trousers?

AN: Zambi- Wow, this chapter got done quickly! I really don't have a lot to say about it. I enjoy this particular chapter, but I'm not sure if it's something that everyone will enjoy. I hope you do, though.

Mich – I warned you all in advance Zambi and I tend to veer wildly out of control when we write anything together. Blame the idea for Flavius on The Sims 2 – my daughter got it for Christmas and I'm addicted. My husband helped me make Snape house and it was his suggestion Snape have a gay older brother. LOL. He's feeding my obsession!

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Snape pulled Hermione into a jewelry tent they had passed earlier, one which he had noted at the time seemed to have real jewelry in amongst the strings of shells necklaces Hermione seemed to admire so much. The silver and turquoise rings he had seen were prominently displayed near the front of the tent and, he was pleased to note, seemed to be of fairly good quality. Glancing at the rings, he was immediately drawn to a delicate band of silver, hammered into an intricate Irish knot, with turquoise and coral inlaid into it. It was a pretty piece, one delicate enough for Hermione's dainty fingers, yet with an underlying strength to it that reminded him of her.

Removing it from the display for a closer look, he noticed that Hermione was also looking through rings. She was currently studying one that looked remarkably similar to his mother's ring, except silver and malachite instead of platinum and emerald.

"Look, Severus. It's almost a copy of mine, don't you think?"

He merely nodded at her, carefully hiding his surprise. Earlier, when she had mentioned his mother's ring, it had been a shock. However, it wasn't unheard of for family's to pass down rings from one generation to the next and he had decided she had just assumed he would have a family ring. It was the only thing that made sense – but now, for her to pull an almost duplicate design out of a grouping of rings...how was that possible unless she had somehow seen his mother's ring? And why would she have seen it unless he had shown it to her? He would be flooing Albus Dumbledore the minute he had a chance to let him know what was going on. Perhaps the older man would have some insight.

"These rings here are beautiful," she added, placing the ring she had been holding gently back on the tray and removing another, more masculine one, in its stead.

"And here's one for you," she said quietly, grabbing his left hand and sliding the thick silver band onto his finger. It was an eternity ring, a silver snake eating its own tail, it's emerald eye winking at him.

"With this ring, I bind myself to you," she murmured silkily.

Snape took a deep breath. "Hermione..."

"I know, I know. You can't wear it all the time, but you're not going to brew any potions for the next few weeks, and I enjoy marking you as mine." Her eyes took on a gleam that caused Snape to take a step back. "You know that you enjoy it as well."

He held up the coral and turquoise ring. "I like this one for you, but if you would rather have that one..."

She smiled. "No, I love that one. I already have your mother's ring and it's much nicer than this one. I'd rather have the one you chose."

She held out her hand, and Snape took it tentatively, silently sliding the ring onto her finger and bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. He knew that she wanted him to repeat the vow she had given, but he just couldn't. She had no idea what she was saying and while he knew she meant it now, he was equally aware that she would rescind the statement as soon as her right mind came back.

Silently paying too much for the rings, he walked out of the tent, twisting the ring on his finger with his free hand. Across the street, someone was arguing with another vendor and he looked up to see what was going on in the hopes that he would be distracted from his suddenly melancholy thoughts.

He was distracted, all right – the man arguing with the merchant looked almost exactly like him – a little taller and much stouter, with gray hairs twining through the black on his head – but the Snape nose was unmistakable. Gasping, Snape stepped back into the shadows of the jewelry tent, pulling Hermione against him reflexively as he did so. The other man did not see him, he was sure of it. That thought was the only one that kept him from going back for a second glance.

He had only a moment to reflect that his doppelganger was wearing all black and a lot of leather before Hermione asked what the matter was.

"Are you all right? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

He looked down at her and nodded abruptly, "I did. Come, let us go back to the villa..."

"But Severus, we need to buy food," she began to protest, but he cut her off.

"Lower your voice!" he hissed, grabbing her hand. "Now is not the time to argue with me. We must go back to the villa – is there a back way out of this tent?"

He watched as her eyes searched his for a moment, but he never saw a hurt expression, only that of concern. "Very well, Severus - if you need to leave, we will."

Snape sighed with relief. Thank Merlin! He looked around the tent until he spotted a small opening in the back. Dragging Hermione back through the market much the same way she had dragged him to it, he breathed a small sigh of relief when they reached their unplottable stretch of beach.

Once back inside the cool villa, he watched as Hermione made use of the low fountain by the front door and rinsed the dirt off of her feet. Her shoulders dropped tiredly and her hand was back to rubbing the bump on her head.

"Too much sun for me," she remarked quietly, "I think I need a nap."

Snape merely nodded and watched her retreat to the bedroom, waiting for a few minutes to make sure that she didn't return. Once he was satisfied, he went back to the main room and quickly started a small fire in the fireplace.

"Albus Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts," Snape said, dropping floo powder into the embers and plunging his head into the green smoke.

"Severus!" Snape heard Dumbledore before he saw him, blinking against the spinning office and fighting the sense of vertigo he always got whenever using the floo network over long distances.

"Albus," Snape answered.

"To what do I owe this honor?" Dumbledore pulled one of his chairs nearer to the fire and leaned down, elbows on knees, eyes twinkling madly.

"I am very concerned about Miss Granger, Albus," Snape said. He didn't even attempt to hide the worry in his voice – Albus would be able to see it regardless.

"Why?" Dumbledore now looked equally concerned. "Has she taken a turn? Where is she?"

Snape shook his head. "No, not like that. She's fine, she's resting. We walked a long way today. I'm tired as well. No, I'm concerned because of what she's been saying."

Quickly, Snape relayed Hermione's revelation from earlier that day, when she had mentioned bumping her head at her graduation four years prior. "I can find no logical explanation for her behavior," Snape finished. "She just seems to have jumped forward four years, with nothing in between."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and templed his fingers in front of his lips. "Perhaps it's just the head injury playing tricks with her mind," the older man offered. "The human brain is a marvelous thing, Severus. Why, just the other day, I was reading in a Muggle magazine..."

"Yes, yes," Snape interrupted, "I was willing to write it off as that as well, but she also – she knows about my mother's wedding ring, Albus. She thinks it's hers – and she knows what it looks like, well enough to pull an almost exact design from a jewelers tray in the market..."

"Your mother's ring?"

"The only thing I have left of her," Snape offered quietly. "I've kept it in my vault and haven't even thought of it for years. Its design is fairly unique – or was, at the time it was made...I've never seen anything like it in the Wizarding World, to say the least. But she knew about it, Albus! How could she know about it?"

Albus had steepled his fingers together and was staring intently into the flames, "I honestly don't know. You're sure she wouldn't know about it?"

"How?" Snape retorted, "It's not something I keep with me and it's definitely not something I would show one of my students."

"Hmmm..." Albus tapped his lips thoughtfully. "This is indeed an interesting conundrum. Perhaps you should ask her what she remembers about the four years since she graduated. Tell her Poppy wants you to test her memory, and let me know if she says anything else odd."

Snape snorted, "That's all you have to say? Nothing insightful to add?"

Albus shrugged, "I'm not omnipotent, dear boy. Now, is there anything else you need?"

Snape was about to decline the offer, but then a thought struck him. "We were about to buy food when..." he paused. "When we decided to come back and rest. Could someone send us a few things to tide us over?"

"Of course, my boy! Of course!" Snape shuddered as the twinkle in Albus' eye increased ten-fold, before saying his goodbyes and removing his head from the fireplace. As he extinguished the embers, he briefly wondered what he had just gotten himself into. Who knew what Dumbledore would send – that damn twinkle boded nothing but evil.

Sighing, he determined to put the thought out of his mind and went to the sofa, performing a quick cleansing spell to get rid of the soot before sinking into it and flinging his arm over his face. The sofa – like the rest of the house – was too damn bright.

Even without the skylights - three large rectangles of glass set high in the ceiling - it would have been too bright. Perhaps if it hadn't been painted with so much white and decorated with white furniture with only sunlit yellow and cobalt blue as the accents, it would be more habitable. As it was, he hated it. He hated the airiness and openness of it. He hated how very cheerful it was.

Most of all, he hated that Hermione was napping in the bedroom, and he was in the living room seeking comfort on the World's Whitest Sofa.

He especially hated how he was entertaining the thought of going into the bedroom and napping with Hermione, despite how ethically wrong it would be. He remembered all too well how soft and warm and fragrant she had been against him the night before. His body practically ached to be near her again.

Angrily, he kicked off his sandals and performed a cleansing charm on his dirty feet. He didn't need her, he decided, grumbling to himself. He didn't need her or her bushy hair, her soft skin or her delicate fragrance. He didn't need anyone. Never had – never would. But he was lying to himself and he knew it.

He didn't even jump when a body slid against him and came to rest on top of him. Her hair still smelled sweet and clean despite their long walk and day of shopping. Unconsciously, Snape's hands came to rest against the top of her head and on her arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his fingers working lightly against her bump.

"I can't sleep without you," was Hermione's mumbled reply. "Why didn't you come in with me?"

The answers - and there were many - were all on his tongue, but he could not bring himself to say any of them. "I didn't want to wake you," was what he settled on, "and I needed to let Albus know you were doing well."

Her response was a cross between a hum and a sigh as she pulled his hand off of her arm and twined her fingers around his, shifting against him until he parted his legs slightly, allowing hers to sink between them.

He almost jumped when he felt her press her lips to the back of his hand and his mind frantically searched for something to say to her, before he did something completely unforgivable and switched their positions.

"Hermione...have I ever told you about Flavius?" It seemed like a safe subject change, and he knew she would not be able to rest until she knew all the particulars.

"Flavius?" she lifted her face from his chest and his hand slid from her hair to her shoulders.

"Obviously not." Snape felt a little better. If she didn't know about Flavius, then she certainly was not seeing into the future. "Flavius Snape is –was - is, I suppose, my brother. My elder brother."

He watched as questions flitted across her face, her Gryffindor mind as easy as ever to probe into, not that he would need to. Slowly, she sat up and faced forward, away from him.

"But you don't have any siblings," she said.

Snape sat up next to her. "Not legally, no. Legally, I am the rightful heir to the Snape name. My brother was disowned."

She turned back to him. "Why? Why do that? What happened?"

Snape thought for a moment, unsure of how to explain it to Hermione. "He and father...well, they didn't get along."

"From what you've told me about your father, he didn't 'get along' with anyone. So why disown your brother?"

Snape sighed, "Flavius was...he was...the black sheep of the family."

Hermione looked at him incredulously, "The black sheep? Your brother was the black sheep of the family? What does that make you?"

Snape chuckled dryly, "The dutiful son. I always did what father told me to, despite the fact I detested the man. Flavius, on the other hand...well, he wasn't what father expected."

"Are you being deliberately unclear? Why did your father disown him?" She was starting to get huffy with him, and he bit back a grin. With that little bit of color in her cheeks and her eyes flashing angrily at him, she really was quite a sight.

"I'm just...there's no way to say this without being blunt, but Flavius liked to wax his wand, as it were, in places wands aren't intended to be waxed." He waited.

She looked at him blankly for a moment, before sudden understanding dawned in her eyes, "Are you trying to tell me you have a gay brother?"

"Gay?" It was his turn to be confused. "Gay?"

"Yes, gay – as in, swinging for the other team – homosexual – GAY!"

"Ah, yes. That is what I am implying. Father was less than pleased that his eldest son preferred wizards. When he found out, he demanded that Flavius quit...doing what he was doing...and find a nice young witch – faithful to the dark arts, or course – to settle down and have lots of little Snape's with. When Flavius told him it was never going to happen...father disowned him."

"Sounds right in keeping with what you've told me about your father. No offence, but your family doesn't sound very tolerant of differences..."

Snape snorted, "To say the least."

"I bet your father would be spinning in his grave if he knew you'd married a Muggle," Hermione added. "The thought of mixed-blood grandchildren would probably make his head explode."

Snape practically swallowed his tongue, "Mixed-blood grandchildren?"

Hermione laughed at him, "After we have children, Severus. Regardless, I bet a gay son wouldn't be so shocking to him now."

"I suppose not," Snape replied weakly. Hermione was still grinning at him.

"When was the last time you saw your brother?" she asked.

"The day father kicked him out," he replied, "Twenty-seven years ago or so."

"So you haven't seen him since you were fifteen?" Hermione was aghast. "Is he even still alive?"

"Since I was eleven, actually," Snape nodded, " and I'm pretty sure he's still alive - I saw him today, in the market."

She looked at him with a shocked expression. "And you didn't say anything to him? Severus!"

Snape looked down at their clutched hands. "You don't understand how things are, Hermione," he replied seriously. "He was disowned - his name was stricken from our family records. For all intents and purposes, my brother never existed! There is no way to change that."

"Would he want you to?" she retorted. "Perhaps it would just be enough for him to see his brother again."

"He probably doesn't even remember he even had a brother," Snape protested, "He's several years older than me and..."

"Of course he remembers you!" Hermione interrupted. "Severus, you're not the one the disowned him – why are you making this so difficult?"

Snape shrugged, "I'm just thinking rationally. What purpose would it serve, letting him know I was here? I can't change the past. I can't give him back his birthright..."

Hermione scotched towards him suddenly, leaning her head against his shoulder and sighing. "Why are you always so hard on yourself?"

Severus stiffened, "What are you talking about?"

"You always think the worst; never the best. I know why you didn't talk to him today – and it's not because you didn't want to...you're ashamed."

"Ashamed that my brother is gay? Hermione, I assure you..."

"Not ashamed of your brother, ashamed of yourself. You didn't say anything because you didn't want him to react badly to you."

Snape scowled at her. "Ashamed of myself? What are you talking about, you irritating girl?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about - you never stood up to your father. You never stood up for Flavius. You yourself said you were the 'dutiful son' and look where it got you – caught up in some war you didn't really believe in, all because your father wanted a son who followed the dark arts. You were just a kid when your brother left, Severus - he could not possibly blame you for what your father did to him."

"No, how could he?" Severus replied bitterly. "He wasn't there – father kicked him out and he just...left."

"Therein lies the crux, then. You're mad at him for leaving you behind."

"He couldn't very well take me with him, could he? For one thing, Father would never have allowed it."

"That doesn't mean you didn't want him to try. Did he ever attempt to contact you after he left?"

Snape shook his head and Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he replied gruffly. "Not his either. I'm sure if he had tried, he wouldn't have succeeded anyway."

"It's okay to be a little angry at him, you know. But if that really was your brother at the market today...what if we go back tomorrow and he's gone? What will you do then? Forget you even saw him? Pretend he doesn't exist for another thirty years?"

"I was a Death Eater, Hermione. He'd never understand something like that."

"You were young and you made a mistake – which you repaid a hundred-fold by becoming a spy. You're a hero. I bet he's proud of you."

"Then why-" Snape began, but Hermione silenced him by placing her finger against his lips.

"Perhaps he's never contacted you because he's afraid you don't want to see him. Perhaps he's ashamed, that he left you by yourself to face everything alone. Perhaps he thinks he let you down."

Her finger traced up his face, opening against his cheek and caressing it. "You need to find him tomorrow, if he's still here. Life is too short to be held back by feelings of remorse and guilt. I know you want to talk to him."

"How can you know that when even I'm not sure of it?" Snape tried to reply sarcastically, but realized he failed dismally when Hermione leaned forward and kissed him lightly.

"Oh, Severus," she murmured against his mouth, "I learned long ago how to read between the lines of what you say and look at what you mean. How do you think I've managed to put up with you for so long? Why do you think I fell in love with you?"

Snape didn't know how to answer that. She didn't know him that well at all – or at least, she shouldn't have. She only thought they were married, she only thought she understood him. Oddly enough though, he could admit she had 'read him.' Somehow, against all logic, she did know what he meant despite what he said.

The thought was terrifying and oddly comforting at the same time. He sat there staring at her, locked in a moment of perfect clarity and crystal understanding. Her hand was warm against his face; her lips parted slightly only inches from his own. He didn't know whether to push her away or pull her to him. He didn't know how to acknowledge her, or even if he should. Somehow, someway – she knew him. She believed she loved him. No one had ever told him that before. The thought that perhaps...just maybe...he could make it true suddenly held a strange sense of appeal. How different would his life be if she did love him? If he loved her? Would it really be so wrong to invest fully in this fantasy of hers, grab a little slice of the life she offered him while the chance was there?

Was it wrong to take love when it was so freely offered?

His raised his hand to brush her hair behind her ear, his fingers tracing the shell of it gently, marveling that she didn't flinch at his touch but seemed to welcome it. Her hand had moved to caress the back of his head, her fingers threading through the hair at his nape.

"Will you try to find him?" she whispered breathily, "Will you, Severus, for me?"

"Yes," he replied softly, "if that's what you want."

"You're a good man, Severus. One day, I'll make you believe it."

Thankfully, he was saved from comment when a large basket appeared on the white coffee table before them. A note was attached in Albus's familiar handwriting. "For The Honeymooners" was penned on the outside, "Have fun."

TBC