Changes

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to JK Rowling.

Many thanks to Snarkyroxy for beta-ing and for her time and encouragement.

Changes

Alone at last, Severus leaned back against the bedroom door, his mind and emotions in turmoil. Closing his eyes, he stood motionless for a moment, contemplating the night's events. Against all the odds, he had somehow managed to come through the battle unscathed. 'I am alive,' Severus said out loud for the first time, still not daring to quite believe it.

Alive, but with his fate in the hands of the Wizengamot. Severus had never envisaged such an outcome. He had been fully prepared to forfeit his life to atone for his many sins, yet death had been denied him. Now his future hung in the balance. Was there really any hope for clemency and the freedom at last to live his own life? Severus thought it unlikely. No, he had killed Albus Dumbledore. There was no getting away from that fact, and he would readily admit it to save everyone the time and expense of a trial. In all likelihood, he would be in Azkaban by the end of the week.

Opening his eyes, Severus fleetingly looked around the unfamiliar room he had been allocated. Unlike most of the bedrooms in Sirius Black's old house, this one was pleasingly decorated and remarkably devoid of clutter. Sparsely furnished by Grimmauld Place standards, the room was dominated by a large, but not overly ornate, bed. The rest of the furniture comprised a wardrobe and dressing-table in the same style, a small writing desk and straight-back chair, a comfy looking, if rather chintzy, armchair by the window with matching footstool, and an old-fashioned wash-stand complete with china bowl and water jug.

Severus walked wearily over to the bed, sat down and took his boots off. It was already morning and he hadn't slept in what seemed like an eternity, yet Severus was still very much awake. Although physically exhausted, his mind refused to slow down as the same images flashed through his mind over and over again – Hermione smiling, Voldemort dying, Death Eaters screaming, Hermione crying. Severus sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had to calm his mind and put his chaotic thoughts in some sort of order before he could attempt to sleep.

All right, Severus reasoned with himself, let's go over the facts. I did not expect to survive, but I did. More importantly, I have achieved my objective. Apart from Draco, I am the only Death Eater left standing. The Da – He inhaled deeply.

'Vol-Voldemort is dead,' he said aloud, trembling slightly, 'Tom Riddle is dead. I am no longer his slave.' He gripped his left arm instinctively, as if expecting it to burn for his impertinence but, of course, it did not. Severus allowed himself a small smile at that. The bastard was dead, and this time he would stay dead. He had avenged Lily, and Hermione was safe. Right now, that was all he could bring himself to care about.

Reluctantly, he turned his thoughts to Hermione. Severus put his head in his hands and groaned. It pained him to think about her. During the battle, Severus had been certain that she had been glad to see him, but in retrospect, he considered it more likely that she was just being her usual kindhearted self. She did look dismayed when I was cold towards her, though, he thought briefly, before quickly dismissing the possibility, but in all probability it was merely annoyance at my ingratitude.

Those few precious months Hermione had spent working at his side now seemed like something from another life. Severus stroked his cheek, recalling her tender caresses. Hermione had been genuinely concerned for his welfare then, of that he was certain. She had offered him her assistance out of the goodness of her heart at a time when he had been close to breaking point. Her quick thinking had undoubtedly saved his life, and afterwards she had tended to his injuries with unwarranted care and compassion.

A decent man, he thought, would have responded with affection and treated her with the respect and admiration she deserved. Instead, I chose to abuse her and take her up against a wall like some common tart! It was no wonder she wanted nothing more to do with him. Hermione had moved on, and who could blame her?

Severus got up and began to pace the room. It was to be expected, he supposed. He had been a fool to think they could have had any kind of future together, and, in any case, what could he have possibly hoped to offer her? He had no job, no prospects. He was an embittered ex-spy with blood on his hands. He had no future. Potter was young, wealthy, famous and would have the undying gratitude of the wizarding world for killing Voldemort. How could he compete with that? He had to face facts. He was no great catch. Furthermore, he had outlived his usefulness. Severus stopped his pacing abruptly, realising he had finally hit on the crux of the matter.

There is no longer any point to my existence. Severus suddenly felt lost, empty and very much alone.

The dressing-table caught his attention. The only mirror in the room rested upon it, hidden behind a fringed, dark green velvet cloth. Since Albus' death, Severus had barely glanced in a mirror, unwilling to look himself in the eye. It was time, he decided, to take a long, hard look at himself.

Severus regarded the cloth with some trepidation. It was unwise to approach unfamiliar magical mirrors without taking the proper precautions, as they could serve a variety of functions and no two were exactly the same. Some mirrors were friendly, some were not, and some were downright dangerous. There were mirrors that would show you as you really were on the inside, mirrors that would flatter, mirrors that would show you your ideal self or what you could be if you put your mind to it. Some showed your darkest desires; some showed visions of the future. Others would tempt the unwary into an alternate universe with promise of wealth and all manner of worldly delights. The possibilities were virtually limitless. Unfortunately, the only way of finding out what sort of mirror you had in front of you was by looking into it. It was always a risky business, and, for Severus, as he was no longer in possession of his wand, even more so. Looking around for an alternative weapon, he spotted a heavy cut-glass paperweight on the writing desk.

That will do. Very few mirrors were shatterproof, even though most could magically repair themselves. It would give him a few moments to get out of the room if anything untoward happened.

Holding the paperweight in his right hand, Severus grabbed hold of the cloth with his left, tugged, then stepped back quickly. The mirror appeared fogged, which was not unusual in itself, but he kept a safe distance nonetheless. After a few seconds, the fog cleared to reveal Severus' normal reflection. He stared at it expectantly. The reflection blinked a few times before squinting at its alter ego through the mirror.

'Ye gods, man! What happened to you? You look like you've been...' It trailed off and took a step closer, peering at him. 'Is that nose real?'

Severus gripped the paperweight tightly, ignoring the insult. It seemed harmless enough, no worse in fact than his old mirror at Hogwarts, but there was only one way of finding out for sure. Feeling ridiculous, as he always did on these occasions, Severus faced the mirror squarely, cleared his throat and recited the standard incantation.

'Mirror, mirror on the table,

Spit it out, don't keep me guessing!'

To Severus' mortification, instead of making the formal response he expected, his reflection reached into its sleeve, whipped out a white lacy handkerchief with a dramatic flourish and dabbed its eyes daintily.

'That was beautiful,' it sniffed, 'simply... beautiful.' Seeing the murderous look in Severus' eyes, it quickly added, 'Forgive me. It's been simply ages since I've heard that, you see and... ah, well, what's passed is passed.' It sighed wistfully before regaining its composure. 'But, don't you have a wonderful voice.' Severus' image smiled brightly. 'Tell me, have you ever thought of going on the stage?'

Severus clenched his fists. 'State your purpose,' he hissed through gritted teeth, 'this instant.'

'Oh, very well. Keep your hair on. That is... your own... Yes, yes, of course it is!' Mirror Severus pulled out the stool from under the dressing-table and sat down. 'Oh, but I'm forgetting my manners.' He waved his hankie in Severus' general direction, 'Sit, sit and please put down that paperweight. You're making me terribly nervous.'

Severus huffed loudly but kept his temper as he pulled out the corresponding stool and sat down. 'Well?'

The reflection put its elbows on the dressing-table, rested its chin on the backs of its hands and studied the man in the mirror before speaking. 'I am a confidante looking-glass,' it stated proudly.

Severus looked puzzled. 'A confident looking-glass? What in Merlin's name is that?'

His reflection looked hurt. 'Not a confi-dent looking-glass, a confi-dante looking-glass. A lady's confidante looking-glass to be precise.'

'Explain.'

'You mean you don't know?' Mirror Severus was appalled. 'No lady's boudoir is complete without a confidante looking-glass.'

'I am not in the habit of frequenting ladies' boudoirs,' Severus said icily.

His reflection tilted its head to one side and regarded the dour, haggard-looking wizard intently. 'No,' it said solemnly, 'I daresay you're not.'

It was probably a measure of Severus' extreme fatigue that he did not hurl the paperweight at it, or maybe it was due to the fact that the events of the last twenty-four hours made the jibes of a clearly insane mirror fade into insignificance. Whatever the reason, Severus did not have the energy to respond.

'Anyway,' the mirror soldiered on, 'my purpose, since you ask, is to provide a friendly ear, a shoulder to cry on and to give sound advice when asked for.'

'Advice?'

'Yes,' his image replied, 'you know the sort of thing – the latest fashion trends, jewellery, hair styles...'

'Just what I need,' Severus muttered under his breath.

The mirror ignored him. 'Over the years, I have been party to the innermost secrets of generations of daughters of the House of Black. I have listened to their most intimate hopes and dreams, shared their triumphs and their tragedies. The tales I could tell... but then I wouldn't be much of a confidante, would I?' it laughed. 'And in any case, I'm enchanted to secrecy. But, oh, the parties, the balls... such finery, such... glamour.' It sighed heavily. 'Ah, happy days.'

'So,' said Severus tersely, 'in essence, your function is to engage in idle chitchat with empty-headed, vacuous young women!'

His reflection was affronted. 'I resent that! I'll have you know my advice was always greatly appreciated by my ladies, and proved invaluable on numerous occasions.' The reflection leaned in closer to the mirror and murmured conspiratorially, 'But then, of course, I do have other uses.'

Severus scoffed. 'Oh, please, do enlighten me.'

His image looked around as if expecting to see someone behind it before turning back to Severus. 'I am also a spy,' it whispered.

Severus raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'Continue.'

Mirror Severus pointed to the bedroom door in his reality. 'I can walk out of that door and go to any room in this house. If there is a looking-glass, I can take a peek into your world and see what's going on.'

'Really?'

'Yes, really,' the mirror replied. 'The young ladies in my charge had me watch their many suitors to establish their intentions. I used to sneak into the guest rooms and eavesdrop on the young men's conversations with their valets. Very often, they would let slip that they were only interested in the inheritance of the young lady in question.'

'I see,' said Severus, mulling over the possibilities. 'That does have its merits.'

'Yes,' the mirror continued warming to its theme, 'and while their latest beaus were in a state of... dishabille, it didn't do any harm to inspect the size of their – '

'I get the picture,' Severus interrupted hastily. 'So, in addition to serving as a gossip monger for indolent young women with too much time on their hands, you are a peeping Tom as well!'

The mirror was unrepentant. 'I am rather proud of the fact that I have saved many a young lady of this house from a most disappointing alliance. But enough of me.' His reflection shifted on its stool and leaned in until its nose was almost touching the mirror. 'Now,' it said in all seriousness, 'it's your turn. You tell me, Severus Snape, what pray is your purpose?'

Severus leapt from the stool as if it had ignited beneath him and staggered backwards. 'What – how do you know my name?'

'I am your reflection,' the mirror replied. 'I know all there is to know about you.'

'Impossible.'

'I beg to differ,' it said sternly. 'I know that you were a teacher, a Death Eater and a spy. You are no longer any of those things. So, what, exactly, are you now?'

Severus sank to his knees in defeat. 'Nothing,' he admitted miserably, 'I am nothing.'

'Nonsense,' said the mirror more gently. 'I see a man who has made mistakes, but who had the courage to make amends for them at great personal cost. From what I can gather, you're a hero. But...' The mirror paused. 'I sense you are more concerned about the actions of a certain young lady than the good opinion of the Wizengamot.'

Severus remained silent.

'Well,' his reflection said, standing up, 'that is something I may be able to help you with.' It walked towards the bedroom door on its side of the mirror. 'I'll just go and find out what she's up to. Back in a tick.'

'No!' Severus protested. 'You will not snoop on Miss Granger. I forbid it!'

But it was too late. By the time Severus got to his feet, his counterpart had already left the room.

* * *

Crookshanks found his mistress sitting on the bed with the Scarred One. What was going on? Why was she so upset and what was the Dark Man doing back in the house? He hadn't seen him in a while.

'Oh, Crooks,' Hermione cried, lifting her pet onto the bed, 'Ron died last night.'

Died? Her mate was dead? No wonder she was distressed. Crookshanks put his paw on her knee to offer his condolences. The Scarred One seemed upset, too. The half-Kneazle watched intently as Harry gave Hermione a tissue and put his arm around her. They sat in silence a little while before Harry finally spoke.

'Hermione, there is something you should know.' Harry relayed to her the part Ron had played during the duel with Voldemort. 'I'm sorry,' he said, his voice breaking. 'I should have told you sooner but... I just couldn't.'

'It's all right, Harry,' Hermione said gently. 'I understand.' She wiped her eyes. 'Thank you for telling me. It makes me feel a lot better.'

Neither of them heard the soft click of a door opening, but Crookshanks did. His head whipped around to locate the source of the sound.

'Is the link gone?' Hermione asked.

'I'm not sure,' Harry replied. 'Probably, but I haven't tried since... well, you know.'

Mirror Severus entered the room in his reality. Keeping close to the wall, he crept around to the dressing-table and stood, out of sight, by the side of the mirror. This was such fun. Just like old times. A female voice spoke.

'Is there any point trying again?'

'I dunno,' a male voice answered. 'I suppose it's worth a go.'

There was a long silence.

'Anything?'

There was much sighing.

'It's no good, Hermione. This isn't working.'

'Is there anything I can do to help?'

'No, it's no use. I'm sorry to disappoint you... No, it's definitely gone.'

Oh, dear, Mirror Severus thought, 'I don't much like the sound of this.'

'Never mind, Harry. You tried your best.' Hermione blew her nose. 'But you must tell Mrs Weasley when you see her next – and Ginny, of course.'

What?

'I will,' Harry agreed. There was a pause. 'I wish Ginny were here. I miss her.'

'I know, but she needs time to grieve with her family and –' There was a low growling noise. 'Crookshanks, what on earth's the matter?'

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Mirror Severus had peeked into the room. He was surprised to see a young man and woman sitting, fully dressed, on the edge of the bed. He was even more surprised to see a large ginger cat staring at him, hackles raised. It began to hiss. Mirror Severus retreated quickly.

'There's nothing there, Crooks. Hush, now.'

Crookshanks knew better. He leapt on the dressing-table and began to claw at the glass.

Blasted animal! Mirror Severus pressed himself back against the wall.

'Crookshanks, stop that at once! It's only your reflection, you daft old thing. Oh, honestly.'

Mirror Severus was relieved to hear the ruckus stop as Hermione removed her cat from the dressing-table.

'Well,' Harry said with a yawn, 'I suppose we should at least try to get some sleep. Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?'

'No,' Hermione replied, 'I'll be all right. You go.'

'Okay, see you later.'

Mirror Severus heard the door open and close. He was about to make his own exit when Hermione spoke again.

'Oh, Crooks, Severus is back, and he looks so tired and defeated. I wish I could just go to him, but I'm afraid he'd only turn me away.' She sighed heavily. 'This is all such a mess.'

Oh? This sounds more promising. Mirror Severus decided to stay a while longer, but she did not say anything else. It was only when he heard her begin to snore softly that he finally left the room.

Crookshanks noted his departure. Satisfied that the threat to his mistress had gone, the half-Kneazle curled up by Hermione's feet and nodded off to sleep.

* * *

Mirror Severus returned to Severus' bedroom to find his counterpart sitting on the dressing-table stool, awaiting his return. 'Well,' he told an expectant Severus, 'have I got news for you...'

Severus couldn't believe his ears. So, Hermione and Potter weren't lovers after all, and she was thinking about him. Feeling a little less despondent, he thanked the mirror, walked over to the bed and collapsed, face down, on the pillow. He was asleep in seconds.

**********************

While wizarding Britain partied and the Order quietly buried their dead, the Wizengamot convened to consider the case of one Severus Snape, spy and Death Eater.

During this time, Severus remained in his room, refusing to see anyone. Tonks brought him his food, which he barely touched, together with a copy of the Daily Prophet each day. The paper's accounts of the battle were largely accurate with the expected emphasis on Harry Potter bringing down Voldemort virtually single-handed. With all but two Death Eaters eliminated, however, the paper quickly shifted its attention to Severus and Draco. Soon, they reported the news everyone was waiting for.

'You're not going to like this, Sev,' Tonks said as she handed him the newspaper.

Severus said nothing as he glanced at the headlines.

DEATH EATER DECISION

MALFOY TRIAL – DATE SET

Draco Malfoy, son of the late notorious Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, will appear before the Wizengamot on the 3rd of August. Eighteen-year-old Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor, faces charges of attempted murder and conspiracy to commit genocide. (Opinion: page 3).

No announcement was made regarding the other remaining Death Eater, Severus Snape. A former schoolmaster and trusted member of Voldemort's Inner Circle, Snape, aged forty-two, of no fixed abode, has not been seen since the battle at Hogwarts. A decision is expected tomorrow. (Former pupils speak out: page 5).

Severus scowled and threw the paper down in disgust. 'Filthy rag.'

'Try not to let it get to you,' said Tonks, picking up the breakfast tray.

Severus glared at her. 'How can Draco expect a fair trial with all the rubbish they're printing? These people want blood.'

She shrugged. 'Understandable, I suppose.' She walked towards the door.

'Do you know if it's true?' Severus asked hesitantly. 'Will they decide tomorrow?'

Tonks stopped and turned to face him. 'It's very likely,' she replied gently. 'Moody says they've almost finished examining the evidence.'

'Good,' he said gruffly. All this waiting was getting to him. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

While Severus sat brooding in his room, Hermione grew increasingly worried about him – and she wasn't the only one. His state of mind was the main topic of conversation in the house as members of the Order came and went enquiring after his health. Minerva, in particular, wanted to see him. Albus' portrait had recently woken up and given her his version of the events leading up to his death. She had waited patiently until he had finished and then given him a good ear bashing for not making her a party to the secret and for putting Severus in such an impossible position. Minerva felt that, at the very least, she owed Severus an apology for doubting his loyalty. She also wanted him to know that he had her full support, whatever happened, and that she would fight to clear his name if the need arose.

Mirror Severus was in his element, flitting from room to room, keeping abreast of everything that was going on and reporting it all back to Severus.

'These people care about you, you know,' Mirror Severus told him in an effort to shake him out of his gloom.

Severus harrumphed at the very notion.

'At least speak to Hermione,' his reflection cajoled. 'She's really very worried about you.'

'I do not wish to see anyone until I know where I stand,' Severus declared emphatically.

This was not strictly true, of course, as he desperately wanted to see Hermione, but his pride would not allow it. Days of forced introspection had brought him to the conclusion that, should the Wizengamot give him his freedom, he would have to go away, maybe even leave the wizarding world altogether. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater; that's what people would think. He believed that he would always be reviled by the public at large as Dumbledore's murderer, whether he was exonerated or not.

Perhaps he should move abroad and make a fresh start? He wasn't sure. He did know, however, that wherever he went, he would go alone. Whatever his feelings for Hermione, he couldn't – wouldn't pursue them. Besides, just because she was worried didn't mean she still felt any romantic inclinations towards him. Her concern could be born of compassion – or worse, pity. No, for once in his life he was determined to do the honourable thing. Hermione had a bright future ahead of her. He would only sully her reputation by association, and he would not allow that to happen.

Now, with the Wizengamot's decision only hours away, Severus had to make a decision of his own. Should he take the coward's way out and leave without saying goodbye – without apologising for his behaviour? In the end, he decided he could not. He had to see her one last time. Tonight, he decided; he would see her tonight.

* * *

It was past midnight. Hermione lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, she thought. They would know tomorrow. For the hundredth time that day, she went over all the things she wanted to say to Severus when she saw him. She would apologise for doubting him – ask for another chance. Then there was Ron. She would have to tell him all about that. No more secrets, Severus, she would say. She would have to ask him about her parents as well – gods, she was dreading that and then –

There was a soft knock on the door.

Hermione reached for her wand and unwarded it. 'Come in,' she said, sitting up. 'Lumos!'

And there he was, standing at the foot of her bed. 'Severus?'

'Please do not be alarmed, Miss Granger,' he said, noticing the wand in her hand. 'I-I mean you no harm. I merely wish to speak to you.'

Crookshanks raised his head up to see what all the noise was about. It was only the Dark Man; nothing to worry about. He settled down again.

Hermione was momentarily struck dumb. All that stuff she wanted to say, and she couldn't remember any of it. Her mind was a complete blank. Severus, too, it seemed was similarly afflicted. They stared at each other, the gulf of silence widening between them.

It was Hermione who made the first move. 'Go on,' she said tentatively. 'What is it you want to say?'

Severus swallowed. 'One way or another, I shall be leaving tomorrow,' he began.

Leaving? What's he talking about? He can't leave.

'I wanted to say goodbye and to... apologise for the way I behaved towards you at Hogwarts.'

'Apologise?' Hermione asked in bewilderment, 'Whatever for?'

'I did not... It was not appropriate behaviour. I am sorry.' He hung his head, feeling disgusted with himself.

'But, I started it.' Hermione was trying not to panic. A cold fear had gripped her heart.

Severus looked up. 'Yes, but I was your teacher,' he almost snarled. 'I should have known better. I should not have allowed it to continue.'

'But... but I wanted you to,' Hermione said, a hint of desperation in her voice. Was he trying to say that he wanted nothing more to do with her?

Severus gripped the footboard. Why was she being so obtuse? 'I threw you against a wall and raped you, for gods' sake!' he said, suddenly infuriated. 'I could have impregnated you. You could have been a virgin, and I couldn't have cared less!'

Raped? He thought he took me by force? So that's what all this is about. Ignoring his angry outburst, Hermione hugged her knees into her chest and thought fast. She knew she had to choose her words carefully. 'Look,' she said, 'granted that wasn't the way I imagined our first time would be, but I wouldn't change it for the world.' She smiled in an effort to placate him. 'You didn't rape me, Severus. I gave myself to you of my own free will.'

His face seemed to crumple. He looked so forlorn standing there, she thought, so lost she could have cried for him, but was that a glimmer of hope she could see in his eyes?

'You can... forgive me?' he asked uncertainly.

'Severus, there is nothing to forgive. I wanted you; you wanted me. It was that simple.' She searched his face. 'And I still do... want you, that is. Please, Severus, don't go.'

Severus couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had come to beg forgiveness but hadn't expected to get it. He had assumed she would tell him in no uncertain terms to bugger off and not come back. She still wanted him? No, it wasn't possible, not after all he had done. She should be furious with him, afraid even. She should detest him; she should be hexing him – that he could understand, he was used to being despised. Instead she was just sitting there, looking like an angel ready to enfold him in her wings. This was not how it was supposed to be. Was the girl mad? Had she no idea of what he was or of what he was capable? It was all too much for him.

His anger surfaced again. 'You do not know what you are saying, girl,' he growled. 'Do you think me some kind of romantic hero?'

Hermione gave a wan smile. 'No, Severus. I do not.'

Severus walked slowly around to the side of the bed. He had to make her see sense.

'Take a good, long look at me, Hermione. I am a burnt out wreck of a man. I am old for my years, I have done terrible things, I have blood on my hands, I deserve no peace or redemption. If there were any justice in this world, I would be dead.'

'Severus, please I–'

'Look. At. Me. Better yet...'

To Hermione's astonishment, he tore off all his clothes and stood before her naked.

'This is all I am, Hermione, all I have to give. Tell me, how can you want this?'

Hermione did look at him then – it would have been hard not to. She regarded him with a combination of genuine curiosity and aching desire. He needed feeding up, certainly, as his ribs were poking out, but that in itself was not off-putting. His body was pale and thin, sinewy and not overly muscular. His chest was virtually hairless and criss-crossed with scars, the sight of which did nothing to deter her. She allowed her eyes to scan down his body and drank in the sight of his semi-erect cock nestling in its thatch of black pubic hair. A pair of long legs made up the rest of what she thought, all in all, was a rather appealing package.

'Very easily,' she said simply.

The last of Severus' resolve crumbled. He fell on his knees by the side of the bed. 'I do not deserve this,' he said.

Hermione reached towards him and cupped his cheek with her hand. 'It will be all right, Severus. It will be all right. You're not alone anymore.' She threw back the covers. 'Come.'

This wasn't happening. Beautiful young witches did not invite the likes of him into their beds. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes. Get in.'

Severus climbed onto the bed and fell into her waiting arms. He clung to her like his life depended on it, fighting back long buried emotions that were struggling to break free. Hermione held him close, stroked his hair and murmured nonsense into his ear until she felt him relax.

'Just sleep now, my love,' Hermione whispered. 'We'll talk again in the morning.'

Severus snuggled into her warm embrace, finding her brushed cotton nightie rather comforting. Nuzzling her neck, he inhaled her scent, wanting nothing more than that. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would still have to leave, but he would allow himself this small pleasure tonight, just for tonight. That decided, Severus drifted off contentedly into the most peaceful sleep he had had in years.

Hermione kissed the top of his head absentmindedly. She had been right to be worried. The man lying in her arms was a mere shadow of his former self. In time, she was sure he would recover. She would help him through this. Severus had kept them safe all these years, after all; now it was her turn to take care of him. She couldn't let him leave – he was in no fit state to go anywhere. She would have a word with Minerva in the morning. Yes, between them they were sure to come up with something. Hermione gave him one last kiss and then joined him in sleep.