Chapter 6: Marrying and Merrying

Merry Christmas to my beta, LariLee, who made time to beta this story at the most hectic time of the year.

Happy Birthday to my dear friend, my kind encourager, and my partner in Woo-Ha, KeladryLupin, the Christmas baby! This one's for you, Kel.

I own nothing. Jo owns everything. God bless you, Jo, and Happy Christmas!

The Christmas Rose

Chapter 6: Marrying and Merrying

One Week Before Christmas

Hermione woke and murmured "Lumos" to light the candles. She picked up her wristwatch and verified that it was indeed nearly 8 a.m. It was Ron and Luna's wedding day, and she had some errands to complete as early in the day as she could manage it. She stretched to loosen the muscles in her neck and back and sat up on the side of the bed. Before her feet touched the floor, an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back.

She landed on her pillow with a giggle; then Severus was looming over her.

"Where do you think you are going?" he said.

"I have to go to the Burrow and to Enchanté this morning," she said, reaching up to smooth the inky black hair, threaded with silver, from his face.

"No," he said, bending his head to plant first his lips, then his teeth on the pulse beneath her right ear.

Hermione rolled her head to the left, exposing more of her throat to him. "It's not Wednesday," she protested weakly.

Severus shifted so that he pinned her to the bed, holding his weight from her chest with his hands so he would not impede her breathing. "It is Saturday," he informed her, nudging her legs apart with one knee and insinuating the knee snugly against the juncture of her thighs, "and that is nearly as good as Sunday, which is second only to Wednesday."

"But what about Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday?" she inquired idly, running one hand down the lightly toned muscle of his back.

"I have not decided yet," he told her, applying slight pressure with the knee between her thighs. "We will have to try them out and see how they rank."

"Have we never tried them out before?" His activities were swiftly robbing her of the desire for lucid conversation.

"Never," he affirmed. "There is always only ever now, my Pet."

The Burrow would still be there in an hour or two, she decided, tracing her hands in parallel lines from his shoulders to his hip bones. It was time to take Saturday for a spin.

---

Hermione called out a greeting as she entered the Burrow through the door into the kitchen.

"Hermione!"

Ron barrelled down the stairs, his hair standing on end, wearing his pyjama bottoms and what appeared to be a Weird Sister's tee-shirt in approximately Ginny's size; his broad chest stretched the fabric so tightly that the words were distorted.

She smiled at him, going up to place her arms about him and hold him for a moment. "Today's the day – how do you feel?" she asked.

"I feel great now – it's later that I'm worried about!"

She stepped back from him and reached into her pocket, bringing out a tiny phial filled with a golden liquid. Making a production of checking to make sure that no one was in the sitting room or lurking on the landing, she pressed the container into his hand.

"Take it straight from the phial, no more than one hour before the ceremony is set to begin," she said in a lowered tone. "Don't let anyone see you do it, mind!"

Ron stared at the minute glass bottle with a look of wonder.

"Is it Fel –"

"Hush!" she hissed at him. "Don't ask!"

Ginny's cumbersome belly preceded her down the stairs with a sleepy-eyed Harry following. Molly had wanted them all together at the Burrow for the pre-wedding festivities, and the house was packed to the rafters.

"What are you doing wearing my old tee-shirt?" Ginny asked her brother in passing.

Ron looked down at himself. "No wonder it doesn't fit," he said.

Harry stood between Ron and Hermione. "All taken care of?" he asked softly.

Ron gave him a one-armed hug. "Brilliant, mate! Best idea you've had all year, asking Hermione for help!" Ron turned to head back up to his room. "I guess I'll see you at the hall, Hermione."

Hermione patted him on the back. "I'll be there, never fear. It will be a lovely wedding – you'll see."

The youngest Weasley boy grinned at his friends before bounding back up the stairs, two at a time. Harry and Hermione watched him until he was out of sight, then exchanged a wordless look of fond amusement as they heard him thundering the rest of the way up to the top of the house.

Harry gave Hermione a quick hug and walked with her to the door. "I'll see you there, I guess," he said.

Ginny looked up from her cup of juice and toast. "Can't you stay for a cuppa?" she asked.

"Thanks, Gin, but I have to pop in at Enchanté this morning, and I'm meeting with Penny this afternoon."

Ginny gave her a wicked look. "I hope you've given Quirk advance notice of your visit."

Hermione met Ginny's eye and they both lost it, laughing until tears ran down their faces.

Harry looked slightly ill. "I hope that Dobby doesn't get a girlfriend," he said.

Hermione bristled at that. "He has as much right as anyone else to be happy, Harry."

Harry held both hands up. "Okay, okay, just don't talk to me about it, all right? I don't want to think about house-elf love anymore than I want to think about old people love. Urgh." He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table. "And especially not before coffee."

"Fair enough," Hermione said cheerfully, and with a happy wave, she let herself back out into the crisp wintry morning. Turning on the spot, she Apparated to Enchanté.

---

Hermione entered the front door at Enchanté and looked about her in amazement. The house looked lovely! Tinsel wound up the banister to the landing, red velvet bows adorned the door handles, pine boughs and sprigs of holly decorated the mantle – it was amazing how well Quirk had made the house look with the decorations he had found in the cellar.

Crookshanks came down the steps, meowing at her, with Bast and the kittens following behind him. Hermione surveyed the kittens doubtfully, but they seemed to be acting like normal cats. Bast butted Hermione's ankle and uttered a plaintive cry; Hermione bent to stroke her luxuriant black fur and said, "He misses you, too."

Holly appeared at the top of the stairs. "Good morning, Quirk's Mistress," she said, walking down the steps. "Can Holly bring you something warm to drink?"

Hermione smiled at the female house-elf. "Thank you for asking, Holly. Why don't we have some hot chocolate? I need to speak with you and Quirk about the kittens."

Holly's eyes clouded, and her mouth quivered the slightest bit. "Yes, ma'am," she said and led the way into the kitchen.

---

Quirk finished his weekly dusting in the cellar, making sure the wine shelves were free of spider webs and that the floor was swept. He was feeling both happy and sad. Happy, because Holly was with him, and Holly was the best friend Quirk had ever known. She liked to play in the snow, just like Quirk did. She liked to sing songs while she worked, just like Quirk did. She liked to say silly things and laugh, just like Quirk did. And she liked to catch him under the mistletoe and – well, there were some things that Holly liked to do more than Quirk did.

He blushed as he remembered the first time Holly had kissed him. Mistress had given permission for them to dress the whole house for Christmas, and Quirk had begun to hang tinsel while Holly went outdoors. She was gone for a long time, but when she came back she had the pine boughs and sprigs of holly, as well as the mistletoe. Quirk had ignored the mistletoe for as long as he could, engaging Holly's assistance with the red velvet bow distribution and the arrangement of the pine boughs on the mantelshelf and over the front doorway. They had giggled and sung, "Deck the halls with boughs of holly," until their voices were tired, while they found places to put the sprigs of holly with the pretty red berries on it.

Finally, Holly had cornered him.

"Where is we hanging the mistletoe?" she asked him.

Quirk looked at his feet and muttered an answer.

"What is you saying?"

"In the cellar," he said more loudly.

Holly cocked her head to one side with a little frown on her face and Quirk noticed again how pretty her big brown eyes were and the cute way she scrunched up her mouth when she was thinking hard about something.

"Who is being in the cellar to kiss under the mistletoe?" she asked.

"Nobody," Quirk answered emphatically.

Holly opened her big brown eyes even bigger. "Then we isn't hanging it there – that is just silly talk, Quirk!"

"Mistletoe is being silly!" he snapped back at her, stomping into the kitchen.

Holly had stood in the hallway and watched him for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and resuming her activities with the red velvet bows and the sprigs of her namesake.

Quirk had skulked and sulked in the kitchen for a while, until Holly's serene singing to herself of "The Holly and the Ivy," had drawn him curiously into the hallway. When he peeked around the banister, Holly had pounced upon him. He had just glimpsed the mistletoe, charmed to float above their heads, before she had rocked his world by pressing her girl-lips to his astonished mouth.

Quirk's toes had curled in elven delight.

So had Holly's.

It startled them enough that they didn't do that again for a while.

There had been other ways to play. One day after a fresh fall of snow, they had gone outdoors to build a snowman. Elves are handy craftspeople, and their snowmen actually bear some likeness to real persons. Quirk had shaped their snowman's nose into a large hook, given him black coals for eyes, and a large black handkerchief charmed to frame his face like long black hair.

"This is being my master," he told Holly.

She gasped. "Quirk, you is making fun of your master!"

"No I is not," he objected, gently pushing her down to sit on a nearby log. "I would never make fun of my master – he is being the most powerful wizard in the world!"

Holly looked doubtful.

"Well, next to the headmaster," Quirk amended. Then, stepping behind the snow-master, he bellowed in a scary voice, "Quirk!"

Moving from behind the snow, he said in a tiny-Quirk voice, "Yes, Master?"

Darting behind the snow again, he yelled, "What are you doing in here?"

Back out again. "I is coming because you is calling, Master."

Behind the snow. "If I wanted you I would tell you!"

Back out again. "Yes, Master, I is going now."

Holly was overcome with giggles at this demonstration of Quirk and his master.

Quirk then sobered. "Master is getting rid of the Bad Man who came to Enchanté and Moved Master's Things."

And the entire history of Quirk's epic battle with Gilderoy Lockhart was poured into Holly's willing ears.

"And then Master threw the Bad Man on the floor and said –" here Quirk assumed his gruff voice again, "What is you doing in my house?"

Holly gulped. "And then what was your master doing?"

Quirk mimed thrusting a wand at an enemy on the ground.

"Master was putting his wand in the Bad Man's face!"

Holly looked at Quirk with utter admiration. "And what was you doing, Quirk?"

Quirk swelled under her adoring gaze. "Quirk was standing next to Master to help him scare the Bad Man," he bragged, rather inaccurately. Quirk had actually been in the kitchen, spreading icing on the cake for their dinner, but he had heard what was happening, and that was almost like helping, wasn't it?

Holly had hopped up, overcome with appreciation of his derring-do, and thrown her arms about Quirk. Her warm breath was in Quirk's ear as she said, "Oh, Quirk, you is being so strong and so brave! I is always being safe with you!"

And that was the first time that it was Quirk's idea to kiss.

Realizing that he had been standing leaning on his broom for quite a while, Quirk shook himself and began to trudge upstairs. Mistress was coming today, and Quirk knew it could not be good news. The kitties no longer nursed; they were very well-behaved after their time with Holly, and soon they would be going to their new homes – and Holly would be going back to her master.

Quirk's tummy lurched in a most unpleasant way.

How was he going to get along without Holly?

---

Hermione entered their quarters in the dungeons at Hogwarts and looked around the sitting room.

"Severus?"

"In the study."

Hermione went into the study, which Severus had thankfully reclaimed when the cats were moved to Enchanté, and found him perusing an alchemy journal.

"Have you had lunch?" she asked him.

"No, I waited for you," he responded.

"Good, I'm starving!"

They settled at the table in their tiny kitchen with bowls of thick stew and crusty bread.

Severus watched as Hermione picked up her spoon, put it in the stew, then picked up her bread and nibbled at the crust. She gazed off into space over his shoulder, then put the bread down and grasped the handle of the spoon. When another minute passed without her eating a bite, he spoke to her.

"Shall I feed you?"

Hermione started and laughed. "I'm sorry, I was wool-gathering," she apologized. Then she took a bite of the stew, followed by a bite of the bread.

"See, I can feed myself!"

"We'll see," he replied sceptically, taking another bite himself. "What is troubling you?"

"Hmm?" she said, putting her bread down and playing with her spoon again.

"What are you thinking about?" he tried again, patiently.

"Oh – the Christmas Rose potion," she admitted, looking fully into his face. "We're so close now, Severus, but we can't get the base to hold – it keeps separating."

He nodded. "Have you tried taking it from the heat before stirring in the infusion of hellebore?"

"Yes."

"Have you tried adding the infusion of hellebore at high heat and keeping it just under boiling until the fusion occurs?"

"Yes."

Severus now had a marked crease between his brows as he mulled the problem in his mind. Hermione watched him, eating more steadily now as Severus abandoned chewing for thinking.

"Have you tried using the flat side of your knife to crush the sopophorous bean, rather than slicing it up?"

Hermione stood suddenly, startling Severus.

"I've got to speak to Penny," she said, a tiny seed of excitement in her voice.

"Well, I have no objection, Pet," he drawled, "but wouldn't you do better to finish your lunch first?"

"No!" she said, leaning over to kiss his mouth. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

She hurried into the sitting room, grabbing her cloak up from the sofa.

"Think of crushing the sopophorous bean?" he asked, following her.

"No, I've known to do that ever since I watched you prepare the Draught of Living Death in my sixth year," she answered him, fastening her cloak about her. "I'll be back by four, to get dressed for the wedding – this might be the answer, Severus!"

"What?" he demanded peevishly, but he was speaking to empty space as she hurried out the door.

---

Penny looked up, startled, when Hermione burst into her office. "Hi," she said, putting down the file she was reading.

"I've got an idea!" Hermione blurted.

"About the potion?" Penny asked hopefully.

"Yes! Can we Floo Simon?"

Penny led Hermione to the fireplace, where they sat on the low stools provided and Penny threw the powder into the flames.

Simon's untidy head appeared. "I hope this is about the fusion," he grumped.

Perry poked his head up next to Simon's. "What do you have, Hermione?" he asked expectantly.

"We haven't tried varying the stirring," she said excitedly.

Perry frowned. "Varying the stirring?" he said, unconvinced. "Hermione – how much difference can that actually make?"

"I've seen it make the difference between success and failure in a potion, Peregrine," she answered him firmly. "I say we should experiment with it."

"Let's try it now," Simon said, excited.

"We can't," the girls answered simultaneously.

"We're attending a wedding this evening," Penny explained.

"We can do it Monday," Hermione promised them.

"We can do it tomorrow," Simon said firmly. "My lab, two o'clock."

Neither of the other researchers demurred, and Penny said she would be there too.

"I so want to make this work," Penny said as they ended their conversation with the young wizards.

"I think we all do," Hermione said.

Penny snorted. "I'm not so sure about Percy."

Hermione cast her a shrewd glance. "Yes, I have been wondering about Percy."

"He was at Hogwarts that day to try and get information from you about the brewing of the infusion of hellebore –"

"But we kept that from him on purpose," Hermione reminded her. "How did he find out?"

Penny squirmed. "He overheard me speaking with Viktor about it."

Hermione gaped at her. "Percy came to your flat?"

"No..."

"Viktor came to see you at the office?"

Penny nodded mutely.

"Were you talking with your office door open? How else would Percy hear you?"

"With his sneaking little ear to the door!" Penny said grimly.

"Penny!"

The Healer flushed.

"Were you and Viktor..."

"No! Well, not exactly," Penny corrected herself.

"You know how jealous Percy is of you! No wonder he's trying to make trouble!"

Penny giggled. "Wait until he sees Viktor escort me into his brother's wedding – that will put the cat amongst the pixies!"

Hermione pulled her cloak on. "Well, Viktor can handle Percy, Pen, but I would hate to see Percy make mischief for you at the Ministry."

Penny snorted. "I'd like to see him try!"

---

Later that afternoon, Severus leaned against the wall in their bedroom and watched with hooded eyes as Hermione finished with her hair and make-up. She was stunning. In the few months since they had stood before Dumbledore and taken their vows, she had bloomed into her womanhood. In the sunlight of her husband's desire and support, the uncertainty of her girlhood was falling away from her, leaving behind a woman of such luminescence that he was, at times, awed by the light of her presence.

She stood and went to the wardrobe; hanging on the door was the velvet robe she would wear as Luna Lovegood's matron of honour. The robe was the colour of cranberries, a bitter fruit of which he was inordinately fond. With her dark hair, dark eyes, and fair skin, she wore the colour as no fair woman could.

She twirled around and stopped facing him, smiling and holding her arms out. "How do I look?"

He crossed the room to her, took one of her small hands, and raised it to his lips. "An unfair question, my Pet," he murmured.

"Unfair?" she queried.

"I am a mere mortal man," he excused himself, stepping aside to allow her to exit the room. "Words fail me."

"We don't have time for that now, Severus," she said as she walked away from him.

He smiled to himself. Sometimes, his wife took him far too literally.

---

The Snapes entered the wedding hall and crossed the foyer into the main room, where Hermione stopped short to look about her in admiration. The room had been transformed into a winter wonderland, with white silk coverings hanging from the ceilings and the walls, as if one were surrounded by snow. Tall evergreens decorated the edges of the room; each one was dusted with magical snow and drizzled with silvery ice as if hung with crystal ornaments. On the dais where Ron and Luna would stand with their Bonder stood a truly majestic Christmas tree, elaborately decorated in jewel tones of sapphire, for Ravenclaw and in ruby, for Gryffindor, in honour of the bride and her groom. After a moment, Hermione perceived that some of the trees were camouflaging the refreshment tables, which would be uncovered and revealed when the wedding was over and the reception began.

Hermione turned to Severus. "I'll go to help Luna dress now," she said.

Severus nodded, glancing about the large room. "I'll just search for a place to sit," he said, looking at the myriad empty chairs.

Smiling her approval, Hermione moved across the main hall to the doorway through which the bride's changing room could be accessed. As she made her way down the corridor, she wondered what had happened to the wedding horrors Harry had described to Ron at the Three Broomsticks the night she had broken the news of her own engagement to them. It occurred to her that the Halloween Ball, which the Ministry had sponsored, had been arranged and catered by Gilderoy Lockhart, and it had been quite elegant, too. Perhaps being Obliviated had been beneficial to her old Defence professor. He had certainly done a lovely job of decorating Enchanté when Severus' Great Aunt Seraphina had insisted upon "giving" them Lockhart's services as a wedding gift.

Hermione reached the dressing room door and turned the handle to let herself in. She found Luna sitting before a large mirror in her undergarments with Molly and Fleur fussing over her hair. Ginny sat on a nearby chair, passing pins and combs to the other women as needed. The intricate dressing of the bride's hair was serious business, so Hermione sat down quietly beside Ginny and watched.

In truth, Ginny was a closer friend to Luna than Hermione had ever been. Ginny had been adamant, though, that she would be far too pregnant by Christmas time to look well in a bridesmaid's robe. Luna had then asked Hermione to stand with her, and Hermione had happily agreed. It seemed fitting, somehow, that she and Harry would be standing up with Ron on his wedding day.

After several minutes of combing, twisting, and pinning, Molly stepped back with a satisfied glint in her eye. Fleur clapped her hands together in Gallic glee. "Luna, you are beautiful!" she rhapsodized.

Luna, who had been sitting with her eyes closed, opened them and looked at her own reflection.

"Oh," she breathed, reaching out her fingers as if to touch her reflection. "I am beautiful."

"Of course you are, dear," the mirror replied cheerfully.

Ignoring the mirror's comment, Luna caught Molly's eye in the glass. "Thank you – Mum," she whispered, a bit uncertainly.

Molly burst into tears and embraced the motherless girl from behind. "You are very welcome, Luna. I am proud to call you my daughter."

There were several minutes of nose-blowing and eye-drying after that, until Tonks breezed into the room.

"What are you lot doing?" she demanded, pointing to the clock on the wall. "We still have to do her make-up and get her into her robes!"

Angelina and Alicia followed Tonks in, each with their arms full of gaily wrapped gifts.

The twins' wives each gave Molly a kiss on the cheek.

"Look at these! They just keep on arriving at the Burrow!" Alicia exclaimed.

"Thank you for bringing them, girls. Could you make sure that Gilderoy sets up a table for the gifts to be displayed, please?"

"Sure, Mum, we'll take care of it," Angelina assured her.

Ginny moved her chair closer to Luna's and Luna shifted so that they were sitting knee-to-knee. Ginny had her wand in her hand, and she deftly charmed the bride's make-up onto her face. Fleur stood just behind Ginny, watching critically and making occasional suggestions. It amazed Hermione to see how well Fleur and Ginny got on now that they were both mothers – well, Ginny's baby wasn't born yet, but she was most assuredly a mother!

When the make-up was approved by the sisters-in-law, Angelina and Alicia sallied forth to make sure the reception arrangements were well under way while Hermione and Fleur lifted the elegant white velvet robes over Luna's head and settled them on her shoulders. Molly then stepped in and began to fasten the robes up the back with the small silver clasps.

Hermione retrieved her bag and stood before Luna.

"Luna, the Muggles have a lovely custom that I would like to share with you," she said, smiling into the bride's eyes.

Luna smiled back. "I'd like that."

"A Muggle bride goes to be married with something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue," Hermione explained. When Molly nodded, Hermione lifted the heavy Goblin-wrought tiara from a box on Ginny's knees and passed it to Molly.

"This is our Great-Auntie Muriel's tiara, Luna, and all of the Weasley brides for untold generations have worn it," Molly explained, tenderly placing it upon Luna's blond head, and cleverly adjusting the sophisticated wedding coiffure to anchor and best display the tiara.

"That will be your something old," Hermione added. She then withdrew a black leather case and opened it. "This is your wedding gift from Ron and it will be your something new."

She turned the case so that Luna could see the gossamer silver earrings within, each a swirl of delicate precious metal spangled at irregular intervals with minuscule moonstones and glittering diamond chips.

Luna's mouth dropped open and her eyes filled with tears. "No, no, no!" Fleur exclaimed, rushing forward to charm the slightly protuberant blue eyes dry. "I began to cry just like that when Mum gave me Bill's wedding gift," she said in a comforting way, holding a sheaf of the golden hair away from Luna's ear so Hermione could fasten one of the earrings. When the jewellery was correctly situated, they turned Luna so she could see herself in the mirror in all of her wedding regalia.

The bride was a study in silver and white, like a winter queen. She was gazing uncomprehendingly at her own reflection when her father slipped into the room.

"Is everyone decent?" he asked in his slightly bemused way.

Molly moved forward to welcome him. "Come see your baby girl, Everard," Molly encouraged him. "She is enchanting."

Luna's father walked right up to her, taking both of her hands in his. "You are just beautiful," he told her, not trying to hide the tears which ran down his face. "I wish your mother could see you today."

Luna hugged her father, unconcerned about crushing her velvet gown. "She can, Da' – I know she can," she whispered before she released him.

Molly bustled over and handed Mr. Lovegood a handkerchief. "We'll just let the girls finish getting her ready," she said soothingly to the widower as she led him from the room.

Fleur performed another quick charm to dry Luna's tears as Hermione came back up to her.

"This is the handkerchief that Ginny carried when she married Harry, and I carried it when I married Severus." She reached for Luna's gown with one hand, murmuring an incantation and tapping the seam of the skirt with her wand. "It can be your something borrowed. There is no pocket to ruin the line of your robes, but when you need the handkerchief, just reach for it and it will be in your hand."

Luna hiccupped a watery laugh. "I'll need that," she said.

Hermione knelt before the bride; she passed a lacy blue scrap to Fleur and lifted the hem of the robes. "This is an old-fashioned garter, Luna. Ginny and I both wore it, too. It can be your something blue." As Hermione held the skirt up, Fleur slipped the garter up Luna's slender leg, where it came to rest just above her knee.

Fleur and Hermione rose and stepped back to survey the bride.

"You're perfect, Luna," Tonks said. "How do you feel?"

Luna seemed to think for a minute, then a happy smile spread across her face. "Happier than I've ever been," she reported.

"Then let's go get you married," Hermione said and went to open the door.

---

Rita Skeeter spoke sharply to the house-elf in charge of the punch bowl and stopped to twitch the corner of a tablecloth into place. Gilderoy Lockhart was in his element tonight, directing the festivities at what would undoubtedly be one of the finest weddings of the year. He was giving orders to the "help" as a king might summon, encourage and direct his minions on the eve of a battle. Rita observed him with grudging admiration, keeping her distance so that he would not give her any further busy-work to do. She skirted the edges of the madness, occasionally addressing remarks and instructions to the helpers in the acid tones so particularly her own.

Rita had been busily conducting quality assurance inspections on the adult party beverages for hours now, and she was near the point of beginning to engage the evergreens in conversation. From a safe vantage point across the hall, she spied two young women, their arms laden with gifts, speaking to Gilderoy. She slipped closer until she could hear the conversation.

"I am sorry, ladies, but it cannot be done! I have all of the tables arranged to perfection. We cannot change things now!"

Angelina gave Lockhart the smile that made Fred's blood run cold. "You do know who Molly Weasley is, don't you?"

Lockhart blanched. "Of course I know the dear lady; she has engaged my services and agreed to all of my arrangements!"

Alicia stepped into Lockhart's personal space and pressed forward with their advantage. "Well, perhaps you would care to speak with her about it? She is the one who wishes for a table to be prepared for the gifts, you know."

Lockhart had seen Molly Weasley in a full blown harangue and had no desire to be the focus of such a force of nature. With a graceful smile and a sweeping gesture, he bowed himself out of the picture.

"By all means, ladies, make whatever adjustments you feel are necessary." He glanced around and detected Rita, lurking just out of his reach. "Miss Skeeter will render you all assistance – won't you, Rita?"

Rita gave her employer a sour look and nodded her agreement. She watched him beat a hasty retreat, then turned to the two young witches.

"I have just the place for those," she said with an evil smile.

---

Harry sat quietly in the groom's changing room, watching Ron pace. Bill, who was sitting next to Harry on the sofa, leaned just slightly toward him, and said, "You're sure you've got a plan? So he won't pass out?"

Harry nodded, never taking his eyes from the nervous groom. "Yeah, Hermione and I worked it out. Don't worry."

Arthur Weasley approached his youngest son. "All right there, Ron?" he asked quietly.

Ron looked over at his father. "Great, Dad. It's kind of like just before a Quidditch match, you know?"

Arthur nodded gravely.

Fred spoke up, helpfully. "Nervous, but hoping you'll perform well?"

George guffawed, but Arthur frowned them down. "You'll be fine, son."

Harry stood and approached his best mate. "Now is a good time," he said softly. Ron nodded and turned his back to his brothers, popping the cork and upending the phial into his mouth. In the distraction of Arthur's reprimand, the action went unnoticed.

---

Rita walked past the refreshment tables until she reached the one laden with stacks of Lockhart's most recently published books. Wasn't it just like the gilded peacock to hawk his wares at someone's wedding?

"We can have these books cleared away and set up the gifts here," she said with false affability and nasty intent.

House-elves were summoned and they began to move the books with speed and efficiency. Rita watched them with idle pleasure; Gilderoy would be livid when he saw how she had dismantled his portable "Gilderoy Lockhart's Book Emporium."

As she rounded the corner of the cloth-covered table, she saw a large paper shopping bag tucked beneath it. Curious, she pulled the bag toward her, then bent and lifted the book reposing in its depths. The tome was covered, oddly enough, in a plain brown paper wrapper. Rita opened the cover and flipped through the pages. Brilliantly coloured, glossy photographs of elegant wedding components met her eye, as well as text. Rita ripped the plain cover off, revealing the actual cover of the book.

---

Gilderoy turned and saw Rita just as she opened the book he thought he had carefully hidden beneath his sales table. With an exclamation that was a cross between a moan and whimper, he began to run across the hall.

---

Rita looked up in confusion, and in a penetrating voice, said to no one in particular, "Who the hell is Martha Stewart?"

---

Severus sat to one side, watching the drama unfold as if he were immersed in a play. Skeeter had a book in her hands now, and Lockhart obviously did not want her to have it. He was running across the hall, dodging early-arriving guests and harassed house-elves with a look of desperation on his face. Severus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in derisive amusement.

Who was Martha Stewart, indeed?

---

Gilderoy skidded to a stop in front of his so-called helper and snatched the book from her hands, shoving it back into its bag and kicking the bag beneath the table.

"Never mind!" he hissed at her, looking around to see who might have heard her outburst. Fortunately, the Weasley witches were off speaking to their identical husbands as the table was being prepared to receive the wedding gifts. The only person who appeared to paying any mind was ...

"Claiming responsibility for someone else's work again, Lockhart?" the dreaded silky voice inquired from behind him.

"This is terrible," Rita continued, oblivious to the arrival of her nemesis. "Gilderoy, this person has plagiarized entire chapters of your new book on wedding planning!"

Gilderoy stepped forward and placed his arm about Rita's shoulders, smiling down into her upturned face with the full force of his charm. "I have already spoken to my solicitor about it, my dear," he told her. "You do not need to worry your pretty head about it."

Rita gazed up at the handsome face, into the forget-me-not blue eyes which seemed to be smiling just for her, and forgot all about the Martha-Whatsis-thingie. All she had heard of his speech was the word "pretty," which had floated into her alcohol-saturated brain and taken up permanent residence.

"You've been working much too hard today, Rita. Why don't you go and sit down, relax for a while. I don't know what I would do without you."

To Severus' everlasting disgust, Skeeter blushed, simpered, and wandered off – no doubt in search of a friendly potted plant to chat with. Severus sneered at Lockhart, making no effort to conceal his complete disdain.

Gilderoy glared at him belligerently. "What do you mean to do about it?" he demanded.

"I?" Severus purred. "Why would I take action?"

"Because you are an interfering, disagreeable person!" Gilderoy blustered.

Severus' eyes narrowed. "I am an unpleasant person to cross, Lockhart, and you would do well to remember that."

Gilderoy felt that the collar of his robes was suddenly too tight. He pulled at it nervously, keeping a worried eye on the scowling devil before him.

When Severus felt that the imbecile had squirmed for long enough, he gave him a nasty smile, which appeared to frighten Lockhart more than the scowl had done. "I will take no action, Lockhart," he said. "I would not deprive my Great-Aunt Seraphina of her pet party planner."

Gilderoy sagged in relief as the dark, vicious fellow walked away from him. Then he grabbed the incriminating bag from beneath the table and scurried out of the hall.

---

Severus sat quietly near the back of the room, noting that the groom's side of the hall looked like a sea of red with all the Weasley hair. Next to him sat Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, their hands clasped as if they were the ones being bound in matrimony. Just in front of him, Penelope Clearwater appeared to be glued to the side of her escort, Viktor Krum, and Percy Weasley was behaving as if his head were on a swivel, so frequently did he crane his neck to keep an eye on the Healer and the Seeker.

There, on the dais, was Hermione, her fire an excellent foil to the bride's ice; on the other side, beside Ronald Weasley, stood Potter, supporting his friend on his wedding day. The last of the golden trio was venturing upon matrimony; the triumvirate was severed and their alliance of old cast down. Now they were grown, embarking upon their individual paths, seeking their unique destinies – which damn well meant he could now mark Weasley off the list of people who might one day show up on his doorstep to monopolize Hermione. The dunderheaded duo would both have their own wives, be busy with their own lives, and have much less time to be a part of his.

Excellent.

Because Hermione was just exactly the kind of friend who could be counted upon in a pinch. It was one of the chief things Severus admired about her, though he decried it, too. She was entirely too willing to offer her ready sympathy to needy people.

Take, for example, the night of Yule Ball, at Hogwarts...

As the headmaster had requested, he and Hermione were there as chaperones. She insisted it would be a good example for them to set if they were to dance a proper waltz. He grumbled, but he did not really mean it; he loved to hold her in his arms, and he was proud of the graceful picture she made as they danced. After their waltz, they made a circuit of the Great Hall, keeping an eye out for miscreants. When the students began to slip out of the room, two by two, Severus set out for the entrance hall.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Shrubbery stalking," he replied.

She looked amused. "Must you?"

"Other than the pleasure of dancing with you, my Pet, it is my only bright spot in this whole chaperoning ordeal," he answered. His lips twitched. "Would you care to accompany me?"

She beamed at him, tucking her hand in his elbow. As he led her into the entrance hall, she said in an uncommonly loud voice, "What an excellent idea! Let us go out and walk about the rose garden."

From the shadows in the entrance hall, there was the sound of scrambling and whispering. Severus looked down his nose at his beautiful betrayer. "Killjoy," he grumped.

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile and continued out into the crisp night air. They strolled toward the fountain, which sported an ice sculpture of Father Christmas and his reindeer. On the bench there sat a lone figure; a girl, crying in the garden.

Hermione put a finger to her lips and approached the solitary child. Severus could not hear their words, but he could observe Hermione's actions. She conjured a handkerchief and passed it to the student; their heads bent together, and he knew the girl was confiding, and his wife was listening, encouraging, and counselling. Why was she so good? And, being so good, why did she want him? How could she bear him? Was she simply a prisoner to the Enchantment that united them, while he reaped all the benefits? Well, she seemed happy with her lot and with him.

And he would bloody well do his best to keep her that way.

A few moments passed, and the girl stood and began to pass with Hermione back toward the castle. Hermione allowed the student to go ahead of her, and turned to meet her husband's eye.

"Finished?" he inquired.

"Yes, I'm finished. Carry on."

She proceeded to the entrance, as he shook back his sleeves and drew his wand, advancing on the nearest rose bush.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Babcock!"

---

Ron's voice was strong and firm as he spoke his vows to Luna; her voice was small, but her shining eyes left no one in doubt of her sincerity. There was a tremendous, thunderous applause as the ceremony came to an end. Ron and Luna made their ceremonial trip through the hall, arm in arm, now husband and wife. Harry and Hermione followed them, their own eyes shining as they gleamed at one another.

"I can't believe he fell for it again!" Harry chortled, as Hermione hushed him.

"You don't want him to find out!"

"I wouldn't mind. He would probably laugh, too. He did last time."

---

The doorbell at Enchanté chimed. Quirk and Holly were cuddled on the loveseat by the fire in the sitting room. Holly whimpered when they heard the dread sound.

"They is come to get the kitties," she whispered unhappily.

Quirk rose, and with dragging steps, went to answer the door. The sight which met his eyes confused him.

"You must be Quirk," the red-haired wizard said.

Quirk stared at the young man. This was not the bad wizard that the kitties had attacked, nor was it the red-haired wizard who was Mistress's best friend, along with Harry Potter. No, this was a different red-haired wizard – and there were TWO of him.

"I is being Quirk," he admitted, bowing.

"Quirk, my name is George Weasley, and this is my brother, Fred. Professor Dumbledore sent us here to pick up the kittens."

Quirk stood aside and let the wizards in. Holly curtsied politely and then went up the steps. "Holly is getting the kitties ready to go," she said in a choked voice.

Quirk trailed up the steps behind her. "Quirk is helping get the kitties ready to go."

George waited until the house-elves were out of sight.

"You were right!" he chortled.

"I thought I heard Dumbledore telling McGonagall he had found homes for the kittens – they have to be the ones that gave Percy hell." Fred looked quite satisfied with developments.

---

The girls crowded around Luna in the bride's room as she changed her clothes and put on her travelling cloak.

Angelina caught Alicia's eye.

"Where did they get off to?"

Alicia shook her head. "I don't think we want to know," she said.

---

The guests spilled out into the moonlit night. When the bride and groom ran out, hand-in-hand, they were showered with confetti.

"Is that a flying car?" Remus asked Severus, staring at the Gryffindor-red vehicle.

Molly tutted through her tears. "Arthur just keeps on tinkering with them," she said.

Ron tugged opened the driver's side door, and Luna scooted across the seat. Then the door was slammed shut, the motor roared to life, and Luna was waving goodbye to the swiftly receding crowd as the car rose into the sky.

"It goes a treat, that car," Arthur said, wiping tears from his face and admiring his handiwork, all at the same time. "They'll have a nice, smooth trip."

George snorted behind them. Severus glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the more dreaded sights of his teaching career: the Weasley twins, looking immensely pleased with themselves.

"Been brewing again, gentleman?" he inquired sardonically.

Fred laughed out loud.

---

Luna snuggled up to her new husband and kissed his cheek. "How long will it take us to get there?"

Ron said, "Not too long, love. Then we'll be all alone."

There was a "mrow" from the back seat. Turning his head, Ron saw what looked like an entire litter of kittens there.

His roar was heard almost all the way back to the wedding hall.

"FRED AND GEORGE!"

---

The next morning, Professor Dumbledore arrived at the small cottage the newlyweds had rented for their honeymoon and ruefully retrieved the kittens.

"I should have realized your brothers were eavesdropping on my conversation," he said by way of apology.

"It's very difficult to take into consideration every possibility of what Fred and George might do," Luna observed as Dumbledore took the basket of kittens and Disapparated.

"How about taking every possibility of what I might do into consideration?" Ron asked, pulling her back into his arms.

Luna gazed up into his bright blue eyes with happy contentment.

---

Hermione and Severus each packed a small bag for their holiday stay at Enchanté.

"It will be a lovely break to get away from the castle for a while," Hermione said as they walked through the snow to the Apparition point.

"It will be a lovelier break to get away from the students for a while," Severus replied.

---

That afternoon, Hermione met Penny and Perry at Simon's laboratory.

"There are times when adding a stir in the opposite direction can change the likelihood of success with a potion," she instructed. "We'll use small cauldrons and keep a record of each attempt so that we won't duplicate ourselves."

Penny held up her quill and parchment. "I'll take notes."

The three researchers nodded grimly, each concentrating carefully on their purpose. Two hours later, they were sweaty and grimy from standing over the cauldrons but no closer to a solution. Suddenly, Severus Snape erupted from the Floo connection like the proverbial bat out of hell.

Simon, who was closest to the fireplace, literally jumped.

"Sir!" he said, somewhere between indignation and outrage.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lewis. I should like to speak with Hermione." He stood by the hearth, waiting for her to pass the stirring rod to Penny and follow him into Simon's small office, where he closed the door.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked anxiously.

He looked at her gravely. "I apologize for interrupting, Hermione, but a situation has arisen at Enchanté which I believe requires your attention."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and he could almost read the thoughts as they passed through her mind. Was he manufacturing some excuse to lure her away because he was jealous, as he had been the last time she became this involved in her work?

Without waiting for her response, he continued to present his case. "It's Quirk. I think there is something wrong with him."

Now her eyebrows rose, in fair imitation of his most sceptical look. "Wrong in what way, Severus?"

"It is not easy to describe..."

"Why can't you just handle it?" she demanded a bit impatiently.

He glared. "For one thing, I have never had to know about the care and feeding of house-elves."

She glared back. "And I have?"

"Certainly. You speak with him voluntarily." She looked incredulous. He tried a small wheedle. "Besides, you are the nice one."

Hermione chuckled, in spite of herself. "Go on," she invited.

"He seems to be apathetic. He does what I ask of him, but otherwise he is either moping or wailing in a most annoying fashion."

Hermione looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "He must be really bad for you to notice."

Severus nodded, much struck. "Indeed," he agreed, as if they were speaking of someone else.

Hermione laughed at him outright, then. "You are absurd, you know," she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "Poor Quirk – I did not expect him to take it so hard. Have you tried to reason with him?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I told him that I understood he had grown fond of the kittens, but that he had known from the beginning that they would have to go when they had grown big enough to do so. I told him the headmaster had found them all good homes. I explained to him that he should be happy for them in their new homes, and he should be happy that he would have more time to himself now that they were gone."

Astonishment crossed her face. "You can't be serious!"

He assumed a haughty look. "I beg your pardon?"

Hermione sighed loudly. "Holly went back to her master today, did she not?"

"Yes, but ..."

"Severus," she interrupted him, "Quirk is not upset about the kittens leaving. It's Holly leaving that has him so distressed."

He stared at her with an utter lack of comprehension.

"Why?"

"Because he is in love with her," she explained, speaking to him as if he were not quite bright.

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

Severus extended a hand and stroked his thumb across her lower lip. "So could you have a chat with him, Pet?"

"I can't, Severus. Not now. We are a cat's whisker away from success. Later, perhaps." She caught his hand and pressed her lips into his palm. "For now, I must get back to work." With a final smile, she opened the door to the office.

"But what should I do about Quirk?" he asked somewhat plaintively.

Over her shoulder, she said, "You've had loads of students – there is always one whose heart is broken while they moan and die a thousand deaths. Do what you do for them."

"Detention?" he said to the space she had recently vacated.

---

It must have been a Weasley idea, most likely conceived by the one that was about to pop from a previous conception. He snorted. Apparently, at the Order's Christmas party, it had been decided that as there were no further evil sorcerers to battle, they would make war on some of the suffering left in the wake of the fall of Voldemort. To this end, baked goods and small gift items would be procured for distribution to the ill and infirm at St. Mungo's on Christmas Day. This was not at all how Severus had envisioned spending his first Christmas with his new bride. It would quickly become obvious to all who might be so unfortunate as to stray into his presence on that hateful day that Severus Snape was not in a holiday spirit. The more he brooded upon the ridiculous plan, the more it festered his festive mood.

Even the method by which he discovered this do-gooder's scheme affronted him.

He had been delighted when Hermione had returned to Enchanté that Sunday evening from her labours in Mr. Lewis's lab. He thought he had been generous, giving her up on his day off – particularly when he had been deprived of her for the whole of the previous day on Ronald Weasley's account – and he had felt justified in requiring some fair compensation. He was also looking forward to telling her how he had resolved the Quirk "issue" all by himself. In his estimation, his excellent management of the Quirk situation made him deserving of more of a reward than simply having his house-elf behave sanely again.

Then she came home, in high spirits, vivaciously exploding with joy, and his plans were turned on end.

"I gather you had some success," he said dryly.

She flew into his arms.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! It was all in the wrist," she joked, demonstrating. "It was the stirring pattern. It was just a matter of experimenting to get the right combination. Now we are ready to begin the trials. Do you know what this means?"

"We can try to test my stirring?" he growled, possessively pulling her against his chest.

"Severus, I'm serious!" she protested, pushing away from him.

He had the grace to look somewhat contrite. "I'm sorry, Pet. Yes, I do know what you have accomplished and I am very proud of you."

"Sometimes I wonder."

It seemed that a change of subject would be beneficial.

"Hungry?" he inquired.

"Famished!"

"Quirk reports that our meal will be ready within the hour. That leaves time for you to have a glass of wine in your bath."

"Quirk!" she exclaimed, diverted. "How is he?"

He took her by the arm and guided her toward the stairs. "I will tell you about it as I watch you bathe."

"Watch me?"

He could perceive that his earlier faux pas was forgiven.

He leaned towards her, his nose grazing her cheek on the way to her ear. "How can you expect me to eat my vegetables unless I am anticipating afters?"

She curled herself against him invitingly. "You could join me – have a bit of afters before dinner."

Gently, he prodded her to begin climbing the stairs.

"Tempting, Pet – but I will wait. That's why we call it afters."

---

While she lazed in the strawberry scented bubbles, Severus hid his pride by using a matter-of-fact tone as he described how he had contacted Holly's master. Each of them had shared similar stories of the distress of their house-elves. Severus pointed out that neither elf was of much use in their present condition and suggested an accommodation, to which the animal Healer quickly agreed. Holly could visit Quirk at Enchanté every Monday, and Quirk could visit Holly at her home every Wednesday.

"Wednesday?" Hermione inquired archly.

"Wednesday," he confirmed blandly.

She splashed him in a hopeful manner, but he ignored her gambit, merely casting a Drying Charm upon his trousers.

"How does Quirk feel about it?" she asked.

Severus shrugged. "I have no idea. He appears to be himself again, except for bouts of unprovoked singing – even though he sings outside of my presence, it is not outside of my hearing."

Hermione laughed at his pained expression. "But, Severus – 'tis the season, after all!"

"I suppose so," he allowed.

---

Severus was happy to see Hermione's appetite back to normal – and then some. Much credit for the excellent meal she devoured could be laid at Quirk's door. In his gratitude and giddiness, he had provided a veritable feast for them. Amidst the assaults on the various dishes before her, as she wavered uncertainly between two equally tempting offerings, she said, "Don't let me forget to Floo Neville tonight."

"Longbottom?"

"Um-hmm." Her mouth was full.

"Whatever for?"

She swallowed. "He's organizing the Order's visit to St. Mungo's."

Severus became still. "What visit?"

"The one on Christmas, Severus. It was planned at the party while we were in the kitchen. Don't you remember?"

"As I recall I was in the kitchen – how could I possibly recall something to which I was not a witness?" he said acerbically.

"Ginny told me about it later, and then I told you," she explained.

"No," he answered, "you did not."

She blinked at him. "Of course I did – I wouldn't have forgotten!"

His lips thinned. "I am quite sure I would remember something as ridiculous as that, Hermione."

She looked truly penitent. "I'm sorry, Severus. It must have slipped my mind with all that's been going on."

He waved a negligent hand. "It is quite all right. Simply inform your friends that we had other plans about which you had forgotten and that you cannot come out to play with them on Christmas Day."

Her determined chin came up. "I was not aware that we had other plans, Severus. And it is not playing – it is doing something good for people less fortunate than we are. Besides, I've already committed us. I won't back out now."

The fresh scars of recent history revealed to Severus a wisdom which declared this battle already lost. He knew, even if he somehow persuaded her to stay home with him all Christmas Day, that she would be resentful and he would be disappointed. So he grudgingly surrendered with a sigh and said, "I will honour your commitment. Now, will you please enlighten me as to what this is all about, especially as to what I am expected to do."

Hermione obliged, her mood not appearing to be much dampened by his lack of enthusiasm. He listened quietly, assuming the role of the much put-upon and thus justly-grumpy martyr – a role he planned to maintain until Christmas.

Hermione was simply too happy to be fazed by Severus being Severus. After all, her hard work had paid off. The Christmas Rose potion was in test form and it was her first Christmas with her new husband – who loved her so much he succumbed to her wishes with barely a fight.

Thus, the shagging continued unabated, and a lovely Christmas was had by all.

---

Christmas Day

Quirk woke when it was still dark outside, suddenly aware that there was a presence by his side.

Don't move, Quirk, he thought.

Reaching carefully up by the juncture of his shoulder and his neck, his hand encountered a familiar softness. Feeling suddenly both excited and worried at once, he snapped his fingers and lit the candles.

Curled up, in a purring ball by his face, was Lonely-the-splotched kitty.

"Kitty," he whispered, "you is not supposed to being here!"

Lonely blinked her big green eyes at him and said, "Mrow?"

Quirk then noticed the shiny red ribbon tied about her neck, with a note attached. With shaking fingers, he untied the ribbon and read the note.

Dear Quirk,

Happy Christmas! Because you have been such a good house-elf, Lonely is coming to live with you and be your kitty.

Father Christmas

P.S. Your mistress says it is okay.

---

Severus followed Hermione through the corridors of St. Mungo's, as she visited ward after ward of those who were too ill to be in their own homes for Christmas. It was too much to have hoped that they would go unrecognized; time after time he was forced to acknowledge the murmurs of, "Happy Christmas, Professor Snape," with at least the appearance of good grace. He curbed his instinct to snap and snarl at the poor buggers; he recognized many of them as former students and some of them as former classmates. Seeing them infirm was not an easy task.

Hermione amazed him. She was never at a loss, shaking hands and exchanging a kind word with each person who spoke her name or reached a hand to her. Severus was careful to keep his hands out of sight, so that he was not required to touch anyone.

At last, Hermione paused before the door into the Curse Damage ward. Turning to him, she said quietly, "These people are the ones who will test the Christmas Rose potion, on a volunteer basis." Her voice quavered. "If it is successful, some of them will be able to leave here one day."

He nodded his understanding as she pushed the door open.

A Healer in lime green robes turned when they entered and smiled as she came towards them. "Hermione! Happy Christmas!"

Hermione shook hands with the woman, then presented her to Severus. "Miriam, this is my husband, Professor Snape. Severus, this is Healer Watson."

Severus inclined his head respectfully, and from the bed nearest him, the excited murmur ran down the ward.

"Snape – Hermione – research – war hero –"

Healer Watson led them to a bed where a young man sat, his legs dangling over the edge. Sitting in a chair by his side was a young woman and standing next to her was a serious-eyed boy of five or six.

"This is Aubrey Brownlow, Mrs. Brownlow, and young William," the Healer said by way of introduction. "Aubrey was an Auror, and he was injured with the Cruciatus Curse in the first Battle of Godric's Hollow."

Hermione greeted the family, then took the man's hand and began to speak to him. Severus was stirred to painful memory, and the room faded away.

How many people had he personally hurt, as this man had been hurt? Why had he done it? Because of anger? Hatred? Then, when he had turned spy, why had he done that? Because he was afraid for himself? So he could earn his salvation? When had his choices ever been about anyone but himself? And when had his actions ever benefited anyone but himself?

Yet here was Hermione, whose driving force was to do right, regardless of her own benefit or her own loss. This was how she chose to spend her energies and where she chose to exercise that incredible intelligence – in the service of a good beyond herself.

He started as Hermione found his hand and held it tightly, her eyes fixed on the face of the young man who was speaking to her.

"They gave me my first dose last night, before I went to sleep," Aubrey Brownlow said, his voice filled with wonder.

Severus was uncomfortable as the man continued to speak; the tears in the Auror's eyes had begun to fall, and Severus had no clue how to react to this show of emotion.

"Last night – when I fell asleep – I couldn't move my legs, ma'am. I haven't been able to move my legs in three years. It was one of those Death Eaters who got me, you know, got me from the rear and kept on and on until I thought I would lose my mind."

Severus groped with his free hand for the handkerchief in his pocket and silently offered it to the stranger, who gratefully accepted it and wiped the tears from his face.

"When I woke up this morning, I could move my toes – see?"

The Snapes looked down obediently and watched the toes in question – they were definitely wriggling. Mrs. Brownlow and Hermione were crying now, too.

"It's working, ma'am. I'm going to get better – get well – I'm going to walk out of this place..."

---

The snow had begun to fall again as the Snapes made their way from the box hedge at the edge of the drive, up to the door of Enchanté.

Severus stopped, and reached out to pull Hermione into his arms. "Happy Christmas, wife," he murmured into her hair.

"Thank you for going with me," she said. "I know you didn't want to be part of that."

Severus could not trust his voice to tell her she was wrong; he simply held her more tightly in the dusk of their first Christmas as husband and wife.

---

---

A/N: I must give credit to my only-ever love, my Slytherin husband, without whom this final chapter may never have been completed. He laboured over it one day for five hours while I slept, and many of the passages in this story were virtually written by him. In his usual way, he refuses to take a writing credit.

Bless you, O Faithful Reader. Merry Christmas!