3-And So...

"Who would do it?"

She started suddenly, realised she'd nearly been asleep and checked her timepiece. To her surprise, there was an hour and a half left to her visit; he'd come to a swift decision.

"The procedure? A healer. Or... you could ask me, as your legal counsel to do it. I act in this regard as an Executrix to your wishes."

"My last testament, as it were."

She flinched. "In a manner of speaking."

"You would be the one to see to my immersion?"

She nodded.

"Very well. I accept the Ministry's offer."

Hermione stiffened and she felt the roll of parchment in her pocket shift. It was no coincidence; she knew if she pulled out the form, his acceptance of the offer would be on it since the paper was enchanted. A copy was doubtless on Stringer's desk as well as before the Head Warden of Azkaban.

All it required for completion was administration of the procedure, which, now that he was technically a free man, could take as long as was needed. When she was done, she would tap her copy of the parchment, affixing her magical signature and she could walk out of Azkaban with him.

"It needn't be done now. I can retur--"

"If it's all the same to you, Hermione, I'd rather get it done with now. One less night in this cell is my only consolation."

Hermione winced, then pulled out the vial. It contained the thoughts she had not yet returned to him, and she cursed herself for thoughtlessness when his calm voice intruded on her whirling thoughts.

"You may keep them, Hermione."

She looked at him, and he smiled slightly, the first smile she'd seen from him.

"It's not like I'll need them."

She swallowed at this bit of self-deprecatory humour and nodded. She tucked it back in her pocket and pulled out a tiny cauldron that she enlarged to full size. He gazed at it, and then back up at her.

"I figured this was apropos. What better container to hold a Potion Masters' memories?"

He swallowed, then nodded, his eyes suddenly bright.

"Indeed."

She began to step up, then paused.

"Severus. I would ask something of you."

He looked at her and nodded.

"I would like to... know you. Before we do this."

He swallowed, and she noted his cock twitched despite the look of distress that followed.

"I..."

She stroked his face gently and pulled back.

"It's difficult but not impossible. You've seen me. I'd like to know you, before--"

"Yes."

She waited and when he said nothing else, she realised he had given her his answer.

Without a word, she began to remove her robes, laying them atop the stool. Her shoes were simple slip-on affairs, and she did not wear hose so there was nothing to fuss with. When she pulled off her soft linen blouse, she looked back to him, and he sat as if entranced, gazing hungrily at her. He looked so hard she wondered if they'd manage to successfully complete their assignation.

Soon, she was bare before him, and he drew in a shuddering breath, releasing it in a whisper of sound.

"Hermione..."

She moved toward him, pausing just before his knees.

"Are you close?"

He swallowed again and nodded tightly.

"Good. We've only one minute."

That said, she glanced at her timepiece and straddled his lap. Then without preamble, Hermione grasped his hardness and slid onto it, letting it pierce her deeply.

She gasped even as he did and began to kiss him heatedly.

To her surprise he was clumsy at that, even as his lower half moved in smooth, sinuous strokes.

Has he never kissed anyone?

But the question was unimportant as she showed him, rode him, and abruptly felt herself stuttering toward climax.

She pulled free of his lips to cry out, and she felt the warm tickle of his trickling seed in the same instant, felt his rigidity and saw how his mouth had fallen open and his eyes had rolled back.

Pushing down one more time, grinding down hard, she shuddered through her climax and fought to catch her breath. She glanced at her timepiece and drew back regretfully. There were eight seconds left.

She managed to stand back from him with two seconds to spare and watched him as he caught his breath.

His head hung down finally and his eyes closed.

"It figures," he murmured in a rough voice.

"What?"

"I finally get a real encounter with a woman and not only can I not touch her, but it must be quick, plus I am doomed to forget it."

She frowned. "You mean--"

"Whores, Hermione." He looked up now at her and admitted, "I've had naught but whores in my pathetic life. There was never time nor anyone willing, and I'm not the sort of man who would force his attentions where they're not wanted."

She closed her eyes at this and nodded her understanding. "I'm truly sorry."

"So am I."

She slipped her clothing back on in the ensuing silence. Soon she was back in her robes, and she used her wand to levitate the cauldron closer.

He eyed it, then her and nodded, closing his eyes.

"Sopio!"

He began to slide as the spell rendered him senseless, and she gently levitated him onto his back atop his cot.

The removal of so many memories whilst conscious would cause traumatic shock. It was best done as he slept deeply, undisturbed.

She drew in a deep breath and touched her wand to his temple.

"Memoria adultus abdere!"

It was the first, but most comprehensive spell she would be casting in the multi-stage process.

He had to have his memories of magic removed, but Hermione did not intend for most of his life to be lost to him...

* * *

"Severus?"

He shifted, drew in a stuttering breath and opened his eyes, glancing around rapidly, suspiciously.

"What?"

Jane Granger smiled at him reassuringly, and he frowned.

"Easy, dear. You're still recovering." She turned to the door. "Sweetheart! He's waking!"

He looked around, but nothing was familiar. Even his pyjamas were strange. They were soft linen and looked new. He'd used no pyjamas before, sleeping in his skivvies. He was used to damp walls with peeling wallpaper and cracked ceilings and creaky floors. This place was... heavenly. It looked like something out of the fashion magazines he'd sold one summer. His father had made him get a jo--

"My father!"

Mrs. Granger's smile faltered a little, and her expression became sympathetic.

"Its all right, dear. He can't hurt you anymore."

Severus tried to catch his breath, slow his thoughts, but they were muddy. Still, this woman seemed to know something of what was going on.

"He..." His pale skin coloured and he wouldn't look at her as he spoke. "He was hurting me Mum."

"We're so sorry, Severus."

This new voice made him look over and his eyes widened.

A very pretty, curly brown-haired girl had come into the room. Her warm brown eyes were filled with sorrow, and she sat beside him on the bed, displacing the other woman who shook her head and walked out of the room.

She touched his face.

"W-wha--"

"Severus, you need to know something."

"Where am I? What--"

"You're in my parents' home, Severus. We've been caring for you since we found out. It turns out my mother and father are cousins of your mother."

"Me mum."

"Severus, you... you're a lot older than you think you are."

He looked from her to his hands then and back at her.

"I'd like a mirror."

Hermione nodded and reached to the bedside table to hand him one.

He stared at his face for a long time.

"I look like my father," he finally said with disgust, putting the mirror down in his lap.

"I think you look very striking, very handsome."

He glared up at her, then stopped when he noted she was not making fun of him.

"How old am I?"

"Forty-six."

He winced at this, but asked, "What happened to me? How did I get here? Why can't I remember?"

Hermione drew in a breath. "We saw your picture in the papers. The Evening Post had an article about a man they'd found in grave medical condition and were seeking his family. He'd been found with papers, but wasn't employed, and no one had claimed him. The detectives eventually discovered his immediate family was deceased..."

"NO!" Severus wailed, and his eyes closed against the horrible truth he suddenly remembered. The vision of his mother, pale on the floor, blood trickling from her ear...

To his shock, the girl wrapped her arms around him, and he could not resist her compassion. The tears flooded his eyes, and despite his mortification, he began to sob into her shoulder.

"Mum!" he cried out from time to time, wishing more than anything he could see her again.

The girl held him blessedly tight, and when he felt the wetness on his own shoulder, knew she wept with him. Oddly, this comforted him and helped him calm.

Eventually he pulled back from her, mortified, and sniffed wetly, trying to swallow enough of his tears to ask, "She... she was buried?"

Hermione nodded, glad she had thoroughly researched not only Severus's file, but also his removed memories.

"A long time ago. Your father went to gaol, and he died there. I'm so sorry, Severus."

He shuddered, then drew in a deep breath and said, "I-I'm sorry. Please c-continue with your story."

Hermione took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it comfortingly. "Don't be silly. There's no need to be strong here. This is all something of a shock, and it'll take you time to get your bearings. There's no shame in tears."

He nodded, grateful for her compassion and waited.

"You apparently had a brain aneurysm. Do you know what that is?"

He frowned and shook his head.

"Apparently one of your blood vessels in your brain got a clot. The blood pooled up behind it, pressure built and the vessel popped. You could have died, but someone found you in the park and got you to hospital. You were there a very long time, unconscious and getting treated. After we saw the newspaper report, my mother thought your face and name looked familiar. She checked in our photo album and the family records and soon realised you were distantly related. She and my father asked about you at the hospital, and no one else came forward. My mother believes very strongly in family, so when no one else offered to help you, she told my father you were coming home with us."

He sniffed. "That's very kind. I... I don't remember anything. I can only remember things from when I was a boy."

"That's to be expected, per the doctors. You may not remember again. But we found out everything we could and got your papers from the Chief Inspector."

She gestured to a worn looking leather wallet atop a battered-looking passport.

He reached for them and looked inside.

A few old business cards were in place, apparently restaurants he frequented and the like. There were eighty pounds in the main compartment and another folded wad of hundred pound notes in another along with a bank receipt. It indicated he had a modest sum, if it was accurate.

There were no photos, and he closed it and opened the passport. His own face, so like his father's, stared back at him. Severus Doyle Prince. He stared back at her, and she lifted a questioning brow.

"Prince? That was my mother's name."

"Well, that's the name your papers have. You must have changed it."

He considered this, looked at his oddly elegant if older hands and sighed. It was likely, actually. He hated his father. He sighed again, wishing he could see his mother, but accepting she was long gone now.

"I wish I could remember, but I'm not displeased. My father and I... we didn't get along."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said honestly, taking his hand in hers again.

He suddenly noted a slight darkness on his skin near the cuff of the pyjamas and pulled free of her to stare. A tattoo!

"Oh, yes," she said as if remembering. "One of the detectives said you had two tattoos. Both are very old, probably from when you were a teenager. They are both of some now defunct street gang. They had one old record of an arrest made when you were about 17, but since you weren't of age, the record was sealed."

He had unbuttoned the cuff and stared at the repulsive looking skull and snake, before making a moue of disgust.

"There were no other arrest reports and your work records were exemplary so I think those are just mementos of your youth now."

"Work records..." he trailed off to ask, "What is the other tattoo?"

"You've some sort of symbol on your chest, not very big. And you've three scars. One looks like you were once bitten by a large dog. One looks like an old burn. And you've a large one on your spine that looks rather like Thor's lightning bolt."

He said nothing, considering this, and she took his hand back in hers. "They don't matter. What matters is you are getting well and have been given a new lease on life. Whatever mistakes you made in the past don't matter now. You can start fresh."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and he stilled, feeling the warmth of her fingers. It was almost as if he knew them, but that was impossible. He frowned now.

"I'm not married, am I?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. The Chief Inspector had his detectives do a thorough background search, and it doesn't look as if you ever have been. They found your papers, of course, and they found out you've worked at a chemist and for an herbalist. The herbalist was the last place you were employed. He told the constables you'd been let go with good references, that you had requested leave. Per your passport, not long after that you did some travelling. Apparently, you'd not been long back to the country when the aneurysm struck. You were incredibly lucky not to have it happen whilst you were on holiday."

"I don't remember anything," he fretted slightly. Then he frowned. "Although... the herbalist sounds familiar. I do know a lot about healing plants. I remember an herbology book I had to read one summer... and astronomy. I was very good at both."

She smiled and nodded, gratified. She had very cautiously removed all his Hogwarts memories during his memory removal, but allowed him to maintain his adolescent summers, including any books not pertaining strictly to magic.

"See? It might all come back. And if it doesn't, it doesn't matter. You're staying with us until you're well and can get back on your feet, Severus."

He nodded, concurring, and abruptly yawned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's been a long day already for you."

"Yes. Although..."

"Yes?"

He flushed a little, to her surprise, and admitted, "I'm rather hungry."

She smiled then, and her beauty almost took him aback.

"Wonderful! That's always a good sign. I'll bring you something."

She let his hand go to hurry out the door, but he stopped her.

"Um..."

She turned back to face him and waited. "Yes?"

He looked suddenly shy, and she smiled, bemused at how sweet the expression was.

"I don't know your name."

"I'm Hermione Jane Granger. But you may call me Hermione, Severus."

That said, she stepped out of the room leaving him to his thoughts.

He studied the pleasant surroundings again and sighed.

Whatever had happened to him before, at least he had wound up in comfortable surroundings with people who cared about him. He had the feeling that this was not something he'd ever experienced before.

The life she'd described sounded lonely to him. An apparently wretched childhood, running around as a street thug, father in prison, sounded far too commonplace. But something had turned him around. He had an exemplary work record she said, and for some reason that filled him with pride. He could just about recall his medicinal plant lore, so he knew he'd be all right soon as regarded employment. Once he was back on his feet, he could repay these kind people and find his own place, make his own way.

But not alone this time.

He considered his circumstances and concurred with Hermione. He'd been very lucky. He might not have all his memories, but he had his life and he had newfound relations, although they were so distant as to be strangers. What if they'd not been there, though? What if they'd not been so kind? He would have wandered forever alone, confused and trying to make his way.

No, he decided then and there that he was going to make his life and find someone to share it with. Someone kind and pretty. Someone like Hermione.

He wondered now if she was taken, but rolled his eyes at the thought. He still felt young, but was 46 already, a middle-aged man. She was far too young for him, despite how he already felt about her. She wouldn't look at him that way.

He sighed.

Hermione suddenly stepped back into the room with a tray holding a bowl of soup, some sandwiches and a tea service.

"Oh, that's far too much."

She smiled at him again, and he felt his heart flutter.

"It's not just for you, but for me, too. I'm starving!"

She set the tray on his lap and gave him the spoon, then poured out their tea and picked up a sandwich.

"Go on. Dig in."

He nodded and began to eat. It was very good soup, and he smiled as he watched her eat with relish.

She caught him looking at her and raised a quizzical brow.

"You eat with such gusto. It's good to see."

To his surprise, she blushed. "Bad habit. I usually don't have a lot of time for lunch so I tend to eat in a hurry."

"You work?"

She shook her head. "In between jobs. I recently quit my last job. Too much pressure and too many heartless bastards."

He smiled at her language.

"What did you do?"

"I was a legal aid."

"Then you should find work again fairly quickly."

"Assuming I want to. I haven't had a vacation in many years. I need some time off to decide what to do next."

He nodded. "That sounds like what I apparently tried to do. Too bad I don't remember my travels."

Hermione nodded, then stopped, gesturing with her half-eaten sandwich. "Say - there's a crazy idea."

"What?"

"Once you're better, why don't we vacation together?"

He was taken aback.

"Y-you want to take a vacation with me?"

"Why not?"

He didn't know where to start. "Well, for one thing, we just met. For another, I'm a lot older and... it might look odd."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I already knew all about you before you woke up. You just need to learn about me. And the first thing you need to learn is that I know my own mind, I'm very stubborn, and that I like older men."

He swallowed. That was certainly more than an indication of interest in him.

A spark of hope flared within him, and he smiled shyly at her.

Perhaps this time I'll truly have a life, not just a living.

"I'm uh, glad to hear that."

Her answering smile back was filled with an infectious cheer and sense of optimism, and he couldn't help but answer it with one of his own -filled with hope and a touch of his already growing feelings for her.

To his astonished joy, her smile grew rather wicked, and when she finished the last bite of her sandwich and leaned in to steal a kiss, he wasn't surprised in the least.

* * *

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Post A/N: I was inspired by many songs whilst writing this, but none so much as "Breathe Your Name" by Sixpence None The Richer

The amazingly talented _odella_ created art for this piece, which you can find here:

http://www.odospadd.com/odogoddess/pics/_odella_sshg.gif

(Note: art is not worksafe, although no 'bits' are showing)