chapter 10

X.

...

In retrospect, Hermione was fairly sure she had finished falling in love with her ex-professor on bath-night, as she called it in her mind. Not during the mind-blowing pleasure which had driven her into tears of desperation to make it stop...though that had been quite an experience, one that convinced her he was, if not a sex-god outright, then at least a sex-god in training. No, she was fairly sure it was the way he had cuddled her afterward, his concern very evident as her body had finished quaking from overstimulation.

But she didn't know, not for absolute certain, until about a week later. They were having trouble with brewing the Nihou Dze, a normally reliable weekly contraceptive draught. After three potions in a row turned an insipid, muddy shade of yellow instead of the clear dark wine colour expected of a properly brewed potion, Severus finally tracked the source problem to their moonweed supply. Hermione, slowly stirring the base potion to keep it from congealing as it cooled, propped her chin up on the other hand whilst he vilified whatever idiot had allowed their moonweed to grow next to their fluxweed, which looked similar when cut and dried and bundled together for sale, contaminating their attempts.

A separation charm was all that was needed to segregate the two differing plants, but Hermione was so caught up in listening to Severus' increasingly impressive, vituperative vocabulary, never once dipping into anything remotely related to four lettered-words, that she didn't think about the solution to their problem. Until he stopped mid-tirade, giving her a sharp look.

"Hermione, would you stop your mooning, and concentrate on the problem at hand? I can't remember what the wand-movements are for the Plantia Parta charm...is it a flick to the right, then an S-curve, or is it a flick to the right and an L-slash?"

Picking up her wand, Hermione flicked left and swished in an S-curve. "Parteligne!"

The dried stalks and leaves spread across the surface of his workbench skittered and separated into two piles, replete with little dust-clouds. Severus dipped his head in thanks and started examining the two bundles to see which one was moonweed and which one was fluxweed. "Do not stop your stirring, though you may go back to mooning over me for another four minutes and thirty seconds." He paused briefly, then gave her a shuttered look softened only by the hint of a blush in his sallow cheeks. "...I don't mind it."

I am definitely in love with that man, Hermione sighed to herself, left hand still stirring the bamboo spoon through the contents of the pot by her elbow. She sat up a little straighter, startled by the realization. I am in love with that man, aren't I? Wow... Well, of course I am! she chided herself. How could I not be? But I cannot tell him right now, since we're in the middle of a project, and One Does Not Interrupt Severus Snape Whilst He Is Brewing.

She resumed her mooning over him with a soft sigh and a return of her chin to her right palm, though it was mooning edged with a touch of practicality. This was their first full week of production in their basement labs, and they had already sold their first case of self-enspelled potions to St. Mungo's in self-sealed, stasis-charmed paper packets and vassopulpa vials (patents pending). In that time, she had learned he was exacting, snarky, thorough, intense, commanding, commandeering, and brilliant to the point of abstraction.

One would think a man of such passionate professionalism would be a bit absentminded about non-work items, such as remembering to stop and eat, but he scheduled that into their working hours. Almost obsessively, too. It was rather like being back in school, having to follow precise schedules. Of course, since she'd been known throughout Gryffindor Tower for her 'insane, colour-coded study schedules', she could hardly complain. In fact, she liked that they were both methodical and precise. Even if she was taking time to moon over him while they worked.

Being thrown off by the improperly harvested moonweed had made her beloved irritable...scratch that, more irritable than usual...but she didn't mind his sharp tongue so much when it wasn't being aimed her way. He rarely aimed it her way, these days. There was the time she forgot to clean out the hair-trap on the bathtub drain, of course, but she figured she made up for it when she lectured him about not leaving little beard-hairs in the washbasin when he used his shaving charm in front of the mirrored cabinet in there.

Of course, his retaliation had been to refrain from shaving for a day, then marking her with scratchy-rough nuzzlings of his face all over her skin. That had been fun, even if it had left her skin too tender to touch for a while. They still hadn't gone all the way to intercourse, but they had done other, distinctly fun things...

"Stop your mooning for a moment and be ready to whisk this into the brew."

Resisting the urge to snap into a parade-ground salute, Hermione refocused her attention on the task at hand. She grinned when she realized he had said for a moment...meaning he still wanted her to moon over him. When he finished dusting the finely ground moonweed across the potion surface, she tapped the bamboo spoon with her wand, changing it to a bamboo whisk. "Frappeto!"

As the Transfigured whisk vibrated through the potion, Hermione decided to keep her revelation to herself for now. The contraceptive potion still had a few more days to completion; while it was simmering, she planned to go shopping for a few more items for their slowly building household...such as linens for the new bed that was supposed to be shipped in the next few days. Any fervent declarations of love could lead to a situation in which both potion and bed would be needed, after all.

...Well, that, and I think he needs at least a few more days to fall in love with me, she thought, glancing at him briefly before returning her attention to her part of their task. Though I can't suddenly go all lovey-dovey on him, or he'll wonder what I'm up to. Which could be detrimental, if he gets the wrong idea in that gorgeous but sometimes erroneous mind of his...like Sirius being the bad-guy, back in our third year, and how Severus refused to listen to the truth simply because of his lingering school-aged prejudices... Deserved prejudices, but foolish, blinding ones all the same.

As brilliant as he often was, there were just some thoughts and opinions about him...and thoughts on the idiocies of men in general...that Hermione was too smart to share openly. She loved him, but he was a man, and men were decidedly strange, perverse creatures at times.

...

"Severus, I'm back!"

Severus winced as the door to the basement banged shut behind Hermione. The stairs creaked under the tread of her feet. He wanted to shout at her, to tell her to get away, but he couldn't speak. He had failed himself, the spy he had once been, by being caught off-guard like this, but worse, he was about to fail her, too.

"You won't believe the price I got for the roast we'll be cooking for the party, next week..."

"Accio wand!"

He winced again, though he kept his eyes open, waiting to see the slim shaft of vinewood sailing across the room. Instead, it dragged Hermione partway into the laboratory, clinging hard to her wand with one hand, the other clutching a large plastic bag. Her adversary shouted again.

"Accio!"

"Protego! Argencustoda!" Hermione snapped back, partially jerked forward by the other witch's spell, but still managing to retain control of her wand enough to cast a counterspell.

"Protego!" the witch behind Severus countered, before flinging up her free hand in warning. "I wouldn't, if I were you. Fight me again, or come any closer, and I'll close my trap on the Greasy Bat!"

Hermione clenched her jaw, glaring at their intruder. They were at an impasse magically, since it was patently obvious from the shimmering red rings fastening Severus to his chair that he was indeed in a trap of some sort.

"Rita Skeeter. How did you manage to crawl in here? And why?"

"Well, I would say I came to interview the Bastard Blackguard here," the aging blond witch allowed sarcastically, "except you'd probably try to hold the same damnable blackmail over my head, now that I know you've been bumping bellies with the beaky-nosed beast."

If he could have, Severus would've demanded dryly as to why every third-rate hack writer had to be attracted to alliteration. Of course, it was redundantly obvious. His assailant, having sneaked into the laboratory and caught him with a Stupefaction Hex from behind, was Ms. Skeeter, after all. It was beyond embarrassing, and beyond frustrating. Because he, Severus Snape, had allowed his guard to slip, he had allowed the so-called journalist to get herself into a position where she could threaten his witch.

"...Oh, yes, that would make a lovely exclusive," Rita drawled, continuing that line of thought as if she had a Quick Quotes Quill at the ready. "I can see it now: 'Gryffindor Princess Kisses Slytherin Toad'. I'd have to hire a photographer to get some suitably sleazy shots, maybe even enchant some photographs into posting your face on some two-spark tramp's half-naked body...but then there's the blackmail. There's always the blackmail, you little extortionist."

Hermione didn't pretend to not know what the older witch meant. Setting her bag on the nearest table, carefully keeping her wand at the ready, she raised one of her brows. "So why are you here, if there's always the blackmail standing between us?"

"Because I want the blackmail to end," Skeeter told her in a poisonously sweet tone. "And the moment I found out what he had somehow done, I knew I had to beat it out of him. But then, when I came here and he called out your name in loving greeting, thinking I was you...how touching it was, finding out you're both so desperate for a good lay that you've shacked up with each other!"

"Get to the point, Rita," Hermione ordered, fingers tightening on her wand. "Why are you here? And how did you know where we were?"

"I was interviewing Death Eaters," the journalist admitted, shifting and moving into the corner of Severus' field of view.

One of the shimmering red bands lay across his mouth, keeping him from speaking or even turning his head, but he could still see. Clad in a red jacket and skirt with a pink blouse, her hair swept up on her head and a new pair of rhinestone-studded glasses perched on her perfect nose, she looked like she was ready to interview Madam Malkin of Malkin's Robes For All Occasions about her upcoming line of fall fashions. Compared to her overblown accessorizing, Hermione's simple jeans and blouse looked perfect to Severus. Comfortable, too. Or they would, if his witch wasn't currently endangered.

"And, whilst doing so, I learned something very interesting. That little rat, Pettigrew, had apparently told one or two of his colleagues that he had discovered Snape was an Animagus, in the final few days before the Dark Lord's downfall. I didn't know he was an Animagus, so I snuck into the Transformation Registry Office, expecting to find no information...and a tidy little article to write for a tidy big sum.

"Imagine my surprise when I discovered that he was in the files, registered just a few weeks ago...long after his reported existence as an Animagus during the war," Skeeter drawled. "Imagine my consternation that Snape the War Hero," she disdained, "wasn't in trouble for having been unregistered...which meant he had somehow figured out away around the truth-spelling they do to prove you haven't been an Animagus for years before being registered."

"So you looked up the address and came here, thinking to get the secret of it out of him," Hermione summed up.

"Yes, and imagine my surprise when he called out your name oh so lovingly...I could've gagged, had I not been too busy securing him for interrogation," Rita admitted dryly. "But then I didn't know when you were due home. If you caught me in the act, or if he went mysteriously missing...well, it would've ruined my plans. But then I thought...why not kill two birds with one stone? Once I get the secret of how to get oneself registered as an Animagus, even after having been one already for several years, you won't be able to use it to blackmail me any longer.

"And if you're so cozy as to be shacking up with the Blackhearted Bat, surely you know how he did it...and if you're really so desperate as to sleep with the man, you might even be insane enough to care about him in return...which means I have you right where I want you...ah, ah, ah," Skeeter warned her as Hermione started to shift closer. "Come any closer, and a single syllable is all it will take to make these little ribbons slice right through his skin. Personally, I think it would improve his looks, but then there's no accounting for taste."

"Get to the point, Skeeter," Hermione ordered tersely.

"And here I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one," Rita quipped mockingly. "I said, I came here to find out how he did it. How he managed to get around the Ministry's stupid restrictions against unregistered Animagi registering themselves without a stint in Azkaban! How did he do it?"

Their eyes met. Severus kept his dark gaze calm, blank, the same sort of emotionless neutrality he had used to guard himself for too many years. Her brown stare was anguished for a moment, then a double-blink showed a brief moment of determination before it was smoothed back into anxiety.

Trapped across the length of the longish room from her beloved, unfamiliar with the strange, glowing red bands binding Severus to one of the lab chairs, Hermione thought rapidly. Ms. Skeeter was clearly a little unhinged. Not crazy, but desperate to avoid Azkaban, and desperate to go back to selling her tabloid-style articles. Rita was desperate to know how Severus had escaped Azkaban, but to tell the older witch that all it had taken was a simple...

"...If I tell you how he did it...will you promise to let him go? You won't hurt him?"

"The only one doing any promising will be you," Rita retorted, flicking her manicured hand at her captive. "To him. Or him to you, if you don't know it. I'll be the one applying the Unbroken Vow. Swear a wizard's oath that you will tell me how to get around the truth-spell questioning on how long a wizard or witch has been an Animagus...and I'll let you go. After you have handed over your wand, of course."

"It...it doesn't work that way," Hermione stated, putting a quaver into her voice. A sharpening of Severus' gaze made her cut back a little on the dramatics. "It's not a spell that the Animagus can use. It has to be used on them, by someone else...but if you promise to let him go, I'll take the Oath, and cast the spell on you."

"No dice," Rita retorted. "The moment he gets free, he'll retaliate against me..."

"...If you have me swear the oath, to cast the spell on you, on the condition that I'll do it as soon as you set him free...then he cannot retaliate, or I'll drop dead. And he won't risk that." At the elder witch's skeptically arched brow, Hermione lifted her chin. "We're in love."

"How touching," the aging blond witch drawled. "As in, a finger touched to the back of my throat...but your compromise does have merit. You don't have to cast the spell until I have freed him, but as soon as I have freed him, you have to cast the spell. Now, what is this spell?" Skeeter demanded.

Hermione gave the older witch a stern look. "If I told you that, you could just attack us both and find someone else to cast it on you. 'No dice', as you said."

"Maybe you aren't as stupid as I advertised," the blond witch murmured, eyeing Hermione with wary respect. "What can you tell me about this spell? I'm not walking into this blind, even with a wizard's oath."

"It has to be applied while you're transforming yourself into your beetle body. It doesn't work, otherwise. And that's all you'll get to know. Cast the Vow, and get what you want...or let him go, and get out before I hex you into little potion pieces."

"Put your wand on that table, and I'll let you approach," Rita ordered her, lifting her chin at the one holding the shopping bag. "You won't need it for the Vow, after all....and you're not getting any closer to him with it until you've sworn to help me."

Part of Severus wanted to shout at her, to tell her not to do it. But part of him wanted her to comply. The latter half was the part of his racing mind to realize why compliance was far smarter than resistance. Again, their eyes met. He tried to give her encouragement with his gaze alone, since he couldn't move anything else, nor show his emotions more openly with the rest of his face. He didn't want to tip his beloved's hand.

...And as soon as I get out of this, and have hexed the vociferous bitch to oblivion, I swear I will tell Hermione I love her, he added in silent promise, watching his curly-haired betrothed slowly setting her wand on the table.

"Remember, if you try to pull a fast one, Skeeter, I won't tell you what the spell is...and you will go to Azkaban," Hermione stated in warning, before releasing the vinewood shaft. Rita snorted, but didn't attack. She gestured for Hermione to approach, wand still trained on the younger witch.

"Don't try to pull a fast one, either. Swear you will correctly cast the right spell to circumvent being caught as a longtime unregistered Animagus upon me, as soon as I have freed Snape and am ready for it to be cast upon me."

Nodding, Hermione approached Severus, touched one of the hands bound by shimmering crimson to the arm of his chair, and nodded at her beloved. "You'll have to free his mouth to ask the oathbinding, and his hand to hold mine, if you're to be the one casting the spell."

"No funny stuff from either of you," Rita warned them, tapping Severus on the cheek with her wand. The red bond disappeared from his mouth. She tapped his wrist next, but didn't free the band holding his bicep to the back of the chair. "You know the wording, murderer. Deviate, and we'll see if you can successfully slither out of being sliced into several slimy snippets."

"Your alliterations are atrocious..." Severus stilled, wary of the wand threatening his eyebrow, "...but I will comply. When you are ready, witch."

"Begin," Rita instructed them, as Hermione took his right hand in hers.

It didn't take long to ask and confirm the questions; when it was done, when the fire wreathing their hands had vanished, soaked into the spell, Rita flicked her wand. With each tap of the dark cherry shaft, another red bond on his body dissolved. Hermione hurried back to the table to fetch her wand, knowing Rita would expect the spell to be cast upon her immediately. Indeed, the last one vanished from his left ankle as soon as she returned.

"...There. Prepare yourself, little girl. When I count down to zero, I will transform, and you will cast the spell. Or drop dead," Rita added with a smirk. "Either way, I get what I want."

Gripping her wand, Hermione prepared herself. A nod, and the journalist started counting backwards from five. As soon as she reached zero and started rapidly shrinking, Hermione slashed her wand through the air.

"Obliviate!"

The spell struck the half-transformed witch, crackling over her diminishing form. It only took a single second to transform, and once begun, the process could not be stopped nor reversed. Which left them with a little beetle on the floor.

"Accio Skeeter!" Hermione snapped as the black bug started scuttling toward the door. Catching the insect, she held it in her hand, mouth tight with grim disgust. She paused long enough to cancel the spell binding Severus to his chair before glaring at the problem that had been literally and figuratively bugging her since Fourth Year. "You threatened my Severus," she told the leg-squirming thing pinched between her thumb and forefinger. "You actually threatened my man. I should squash you like the ugly little bug you are!"

"Hermione, if you kill an Animagus, the body reverts to its natural form. I would prefer not to bury her corpse on our property...not to mention she is a witch. She could linger and haunt us for her murder," Severus reminded her, rising to join her. "Even if we made it look like an accident, if she manifests as a ghost... We are entertaining your friends in a few more days, and one of them is an Auror-in-training."

"Then I should stick her in a jar and keep her there, as I threatened to do the last time she messed with someone I cared about," Hermione huffed, still angry. But her conscience nagged at her. "I should turn her over to St. Mungo's so they could cure her...but do I tell them that she's an unregistered Animagus, so they know how to fix her? Or leave her in their care for years and years, trying to figure out why she's stuck like this, since she cannot remember how she did it?"

Severus kept his mouth shut at those choices. He could understand all too well the need for vengeance. So long as his beloved didn't try to break the law...

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. Her conscience was still nagging at her. "If we don't do something about why she came here, she'll just continue to be a problem...a canker-sore, a blight on wizarding-kind."

"Whatever you choose to do, don't get caught," Severus murmured, making her glance at him sharply. "I agree, she needs to be locked up...but only her memory of how she got to be this way has been erased. She will still remember that she came here for a reason and that she bound me and threatened you in order to get what she wanted, though she will not remember exactly what that reason was."

Hermione returned her gaze to the beetle squirming helplessly in her grip. Just a little more pressure...but they'd have a body to bury, and a ghost to placate. She did not want Skeeter's spectre hanging around this otherwise perfect, overgrown cottage for the rest of her life. Sighing, she lifted her wand.

"Nothing illegal," the wizard standing at her side cautioned her.

"Oh, it's not illegal." Hermione looked up at him again. "How long ago did she catch you?"

Severus looked at one of the clocks on the wall. "Just under an hour ago...much to my chagrin. We warded against human guests entering the cottage unannounced, other than into the Floo chamber, but not against Animagi pests."

"We'll cover that," she soothed him. "An hour is all I need. Where did she put your wand, did you see?"

"It is in her right-hand suit pocket," Severus admitted. "She showed it to me while I was recovering from being Stupefied, in order to taunt me for my lapse. That is the other reason why I wouldn't care for you to crush her body; it might break my wand before her transformation is complete.

"Don't worry; you'll get it back. But we'll have to give her a reason for having been here, something juicy and real enough, she won't realize it's a blind."

"Distasteful though it may be, I suggest using our relationship as a distraction," he offered wryly.

Hermione considered it only for a moment before nodding in agreement. The pairing of an ex-Death Eater and one of his recently former students should be enough to distract the odious woman. Stooping, she set the beetle on the floor and quickly cast her spell before Skeeter could scamper out of sight. "Obliviate!"

The beetle stopped running, momentarily stunned by the force of losing the last hour or so of her life. Hermione stepped back and silently cast the same transformation spell that Minerva had used on her former colleague, forcing the reporter back into her human form. Dazed, blinking, Rita Skeeter stared at the two of them. She didn't even notice when Severus stuck his hand into her pocket, fishing out his ebony wand.

"Oh...you?" the journalist witch muttered, blinking and focusing her gaze finally on Hermione. "I know you. Hermione Granger...what am I doing here? And where is here?"

"You interrupted a very delicate stage in our brewing process, Ms. Skeeter," Severus lied smoothly. "Your memory may have been affected when your uninvited arrival released certain potion vapours, just now. What is your first name, and why are you here?"

"Rita, of course. My name is Rita Skeeter, and my profession is journalism. I haven't lost my wits!" she added sharply. "Just a little bit of my memory. I came here to...I came here...what is Miss Granger doing in your home?"

"It's her home, actually. You said you came here to write an article on our relationship," Severus told her. "Select areas of your memory may have been affected by the vapours you inhaled. Unfortunately, the process is irreversible, and as you were foolish enough to enter an active lab without a Bubble Head Charm..."

"Your relationship?" Skeeter asked, seizing on that part of his soliloquy. "The two of you...?"

"Yes, you were muttering something about 'Gryffindor Princess Kisses Slytherin Toad' for an article heading," Hermione added, forcing herself to sound irritated. "That was when you bumped the table, dislodged the protective wards, and inhaled the wrong fumes."

"I bumped the table?" Skeeter repeated, frowning in confusion as she glanced around her. There were a few ingredients in various stages of preparation on the table next to her, but nothing looked particularly dangerous. "Why would I do that?'

"Well, you were backing up under the threat of my wand, at the time," Hermione added, putting a hint of menace into her tone. She nodded at the other table, which had a couple beakers with colourful liquids in them. Their contents were actually quite stable and innocuous, but the reporter didn't need to know that. Ms. Skeeter just needed to be intimidated by them.

Severus showed her how it was properly done, his voice dipping into quiet, dangerous depths. "I suggest, if you wish to avoid being threatened at wand-point in the future...or dosed with potions unexpectedly...that you do not barge into other people's homes, demanding to know the intimate details of their life."

"Now, we have been kind about your rude intrusion; we have cleaned up the mess you made...and you made a big, expensive mess, forcing us to though out a lot of costly ingredients, thanks to your interference...and we have even decontaminated you, whilst you stood there like an idiot for half an hour," Hermione continued, elaborating on their ruse. "But I think it would be best if you just turned around and left. You'll get no interview out of us, today."

"The Floo is that way," Severus added, pointing at the door out of the lab. "I suggest you use it. Immediately."

"You cannot threaten me! I am a member of the press!" Rita protested, glaring at him.

Severus swayed close enough to loom over her, arms folding across his chest. "Watch me."

The older witch stumbled back a few steps, intimidated. She straightened her jacket after a moment, cleared her throat, and edged toward the door. "Well! We'll just have to see about this. The people have a right to know about the two of you...shacking up with a girl who's half your age...snogging a man old enough to be your father..."

"Allow me to show you to the door," Hermione offered mock-sweetly, following the retreating journalist. "There's the door!"

Scuttling out of the room, the blond witch found herself trailed by the pair...stalked, rather, for they pointed her firmly all the way to the Floo-connected hearth at the base of the stairs, fingers jabbing unerringly at her exit point. Only when the green flames had died and vanished along with the annoying reporter did Hermione allow herself to sag with relief. "Merlin! I almost didn't know what to do..."

"She'll get her revenge, you know," Severus murmured, pulling his curly-haired witch into his arms. "She'll stalk us, and write tabloid tales about us, and try to make our lives a living, vituperative, reputation-tattered hell."

Hermione groaned, burying her face in his shoulder. "Don't I know it. There's a part of me...a very mean and petty and ugly part of me...that actually wanted to kill her, for a moment," she confessed quietly. "Only for the smallest moment, but...she threatened you, Severus. I don't think I'll ever quite forgive her for that. But if we can't kill her, then what can we do to her to stop her from plaguing us and trashing our reputations?"

"There is a possible cure," he offered, trying not to sound tentative.

"There is?" she asked him, twisting her head so that she could glance up at his face without leaving the comfort of his embrace.

"Her readers will want stories filled with scandal and gossip. A young witch living in sin with an older, notorious wizard is very scandalous and gossip-worthy. But hardly anyone ever cares to read about a happily married couple. That would be boring."

Her heart skipped all the way up into her mouth for a moment, then returned to its home in her chest. It left a silly grin in its place, though. "It's only boring to those who don't know what goes on behind closed cottage doors."

"And may they never know," Severus muttered fervently. Dipping his neck so that his forehead rested against hers, he stared into the brown depths of her eyes. "I only had one regret in all of this...aside from the embarrassment of being caught like that."

"One regret?" Hermione asked. "What, my not squishing her when I had the chance?"

"No. My not telling you previously that I have fallen in love with you."

Hermione smiled smugly and shifted her arms from his ribs to his neck, looping them over his shoulders. "That's good. I mean, it's good that you've fallen in love with me, because I have fallen in love with you, my sweet little Puss-in-Boots."

Severus winced, ducking his head a little. "Hermione, I would far rather be considered snarky than sweet."

"Fine. My snarky little Puss-in-Boots," Hermione quipped, rolling her eyes briefly before resuming her smile. She rubbed him lightly behind his ears, in that spot he enjoyed immensely as both a cat and a man. "Now, shall we count the Floo chamber as a sort of foyer, like the front entryway upstairs?"

Lifting his head, he glanced around them. A brief perusal was all he needed before returning his attention to her and giving her a nod of approval. "I suppose it could pass for an acceptably kissable locatio...mmm..."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed, sighing against his lips, ensuring there was less talking and more kissing for a while.

...

Rasping Grillowbies had been spotted by American wizards in the Appalachian mountains...wizarding photographed, in fact, proof of their existence...and Luna Lovegood had taken off to go and interview the discoverers two days before the party. It was hoped, she had explained in a Floo call as soon as she got tapped by her father for making the trip, that she would make it back to Hogwarts for the start of her seventh year...but it was doubtful that she would be able to make it back in time for the house-warming, "...And the undoubted gastronomic delights that would have awaited me," as she had put it with a wistful sigh.

But Hermione didn't let that stop her plans. Instead of Luna Lovegood, she invited Lavender Brown. The timing couldn't have been better; Lavender had been faithfully following Quidditch, and Ron had just landed an alternate position on the Banbourne Beaters. Rather than Hermione and Severus having to forcefully demonstrate that he just wasn't interested in the sort of conversations Hermione preferred to have, the pair practically monopolized each other. Thankfully they were at one end of the dining room table, while Hermione and Snape were free to argue amiably at the other end over such subjects as whether Egyptian hieroglyphs or Pictish runes were more potent when inscribed during the Artifact enchantment process.

In the middle seats, Harry and Ginny occasionally joined either conversation when nudged or asked a question, but mostly they stared at each other, blushed, smiled, chatted about this or that, and made the occasional awkward comment. Coming back from fetching dessert, Hermione discovered just what had her two friends blushing so much. Ginny had slipped her feet out of her pumps and had worked her hose-covered toes up the cuffs of Harry's trousers. In turn, he had managed to work off one shoe and was rubbing the back of her calf with his sock-clad foot.

She said not a word as she set down the layer-cake, just let Severus cut several pieces and helped him hand out each plate as soon as it was loaded. As soon as she handed Harry his slice, having to nudge his fingers with the plate to get his attention, Severus spoke.

"Given that Molly Weasley is the most intimidating woman outside of the Death Eaters when her protective instincts are roused, I strongly suggest, Harry, that you wait until you are out of my house before you touch her precious only daughter any higher on her leg."

Harry jerked upright in his chair, straightening out of his slouch. His cheeks reddened and Ginny looked away, while Ron shot them a glare. Lavender covered her mouth, trying not to laugh, which would have been inappropriate for the moment.

"I'll also trust, as both of you went through sixth year Potions with Horace Slughorn, that you both know how to brew the Nihou Dze correctly?" Severus added lightly.

Harry reddened further and scowled but didn't dare say anything, thanks to his life-debt geas. Ginny frowned and lifted her hand, cutting off her brother before Ron could do more than draw in a breath. "Are you implying that we should brew that draught? As in, you wouldn't take House points off of us if we...well..."

"What, shagged like nifflers?" Hermione supplied as she accepted her own slice. That earned a muffled snort of laughter from Lavender, which in turn earned the other woman a dirty look from Ron.

"Well...yes," Ginny mumbled, embarrassed.

Severus fielded the question in a dry but not unfriendly tone. "I am not your teacher anymore. As something of a friend to your family...at least through the Order...all I care about is that you do not do anything foolish...and that Molly doesn't think she can somehow blame me for it."

"And what about you?" Ron dared to challenge. "Have you brewed some Nihou Dze?"

"It is steeping in the lab as we speak," Severus agreed mildly, serving himself the last slice of cake.

"So you do plan on taking advantage of Hermione! You're taking advantage of her right now, living in sin with her!" Ron accused him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione snorted. "Neither of us are 'living in sin'."

"But you are living together!" he argued.

"Living in the same house does not automatically guarantee that we're shagging like nifflers," Severus stated mildly. His choice of words turned their four guests interesting shades of pink. Those shades deepened as he added, "Unlike some men, I happen to respect the women I let into my life."

"Oh, do shut your mouth, Ronald," Hermione ordered as the redhead gaped. "I'm the one who brewed it, because I'm the one planning on taking advantage of him."

"Not until we're married," Severus countered firmly. "I've told you that before."

Harry choked at that, spewing bits of cake halfway across the table. Ginny quickly flicked out her wand and cast an Evanesco, cleaning the tablecloth, while Hermione tapped his water glass with her own wand, refilling it so he could clear his throat with a drink.

It was Lavender who caught on the fastest, while Ron was still spluttering. "...The ring! You're wearing an engagement ring! Oh my god! You're engaged to him?"

Hermione held out her hand in that universal gesture of all engaged women, showing off the pearl-and-gold ring he had made. "Isn't it lovely? Severus found it in an oyster at a restaurant, of all places. That was at the lunch we went out to, with Professor McGonagall. He saved it, and made it just for me."

Ginny, eyeing the stone, flicked her gaze around the table. Clearing her throat, she boldly stated, "That's very romantic, finding it like that, and him making it for you. I hope you'll both be very happy together."

"...Happy?" her brother demanded, his voice cracking with the exclamation.

"Yes, Ronald. Happy," Hermione repeated crisply, giving him a hard look. "As happy as you have been, tonight, in Lavender's company. You really should consider asking her for a second chance at dating her, since the two of you obviously have so much in common, and get along so well. The two of you haven't fought once all night long. Isn't that wonderful?"

"What do you mean, we haven't fought?" Ron challenged her. "She thinks the Banbourne Beaters are a third-rate team!"

"I said I thought they were a third-rate team, but that if they let you play as Keeper in a few key games, they'll come up a few notches," Lavender corrected firmly. "As soon as you get out there in play, you'll get noticed. You need to work on your game strategies, as well as your Keeper skills. If you can translate your chess-skills into Quidditch, you'll make team captain in just a couple years...even my father thinks so, and he was captain for the Wasps in his twenties...but you have to play so well when you first get out there, they'll keep putting you out there, and that takes dedication."

"It'll take more than just a couple years to make captain for a professional team, even a 'third-rate' one...and I will put a lot of dedication into it. I'll be even better than your father was, you'll see!" Ron argued back.

"I'd see it, if you ever invited me to a game!" Lavender retorted...and like that, they were off again.

The other four members of the dinner party rolled their eyes, and caught each other doing it. Ginny was the first to snort, struggling to control her laughter. Catching sight of Severus' smirk, she lost control and leaned against Hermione, who grinned at her friend's uncontrollable giggles. Even Harry chuckled...and he didn't lose his mirth by too much when Severus reached across the end of the table and covered her hand with his, though he did look a little uncomfortable for a few moments.

It wasn't until the end of the evening that Ron challenged Hermione again on her relationship. Severus was giving Ginny some very good advice on passing seventh-year potions, and Lavender was promising Harry to pass along his well-wishes to several of the teachers, when Ron pulled Hermione aside into the storage room just off the Floo hall.

"C'mon, Hermione, Snape? You'd get along much better with me!" he protested again, though at least he had the courtesy to do so under his breath.

"Weren't you paying attention, Ron?" Hermione whispered back. "All that time you were laughing and chatting and having a great time with Lavender, talking about all the things both of you like...and there were many things the two of you talked about together...Severus and I were doing the exact same thing. Laughing and chatting and having a wonderful time talking about anything and everything that we both liked. With each other."

"But, it's Snape!" he whinged. "How can you have anything in common with him? At least you and I are good friends. We have been for years. What have you got with him, years of him calling us names and assigning detentions?"

"Ron, do you know what happens when you mix acids and bases together?" she asked him.

He blinked at her non-sequitur. "What?"

"Exactly my point," she sighed. "When you put the wrong ingredients together, either nothing happens, or things explode painfully, doing a lot of damage. If you put the right ingredients together, you get something better, Ronald...and you and I are not the right ingredients to throw into the same cauldron together. We can sit on the same shelf and be happy next to each other, but we're not meant to be mixed together for the rest of our lives. What I want is for you to be happy. We tried dating, you and I, but we weren't truly happy when we were dating."

"Yes, we were," he protested stubbornly, folding his arms defensively across his chest. "We had fun kissing, didn't we?"

"But what about when we weren't kissing? We fought, we nagged, we whinged, we argued, we pouted, we glared...does any of that sound like 'truly happy'?" Hermione countered. "It's a different sort of arguing when you're talking with Lavender. You both listen to each other, you both have good points to make, and you can both see each other's side of the argument, because you have similar interests, similar experiences, similar viewpoints. If we threw the two of you into a cauldron and gave you a stir, I honestly think you could make something really good together.

"Just take a minute, Ron, and try to picture what your life would be like with Lavender in it, five years from now. If you're honest, it'll be much like tonight; you'll still be talking and laughing and sharing similar interests five years from now. You and I, however...we can't even go five minutes without arguing about something, and not the fun kind of argument. Do you see that?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"There you go, then. We may argue and yell and not talk to each other for weeks at a stretch, Ron, but we'll always be friends. We don't have to be anything more to each other, because that's enough, and that's all we need to be, for each other."

"So, that's the best way our two ingredients can be mixed? The only way?" he asked. Sighing, he eyed the black-haired man partially visible through the doorway into the Floo chamber. "But...him?"

"You wouldn't think ashwinder eggs could combine with raw pufferfish and oyster liqueur to make an edible aphrodisiac, but they do," she reminded him lightly. Ron made a face, prompting her to laugh and hug him. "I'll be kind and spare you the details. Go escort Lavender home...and make sure you arrange a date with her! That's an order from your best friend. She might be the right ingredient for you, or she might not be, but you'll never know until you honestly try."

Nodding, he allowed her to nudge him toward the door, and his waiting future date. Hermione tucked her arm around Severus' waist, watching the hearth until the last flicker of verdant flame had faded. He hugged her shoulders gently, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She sighed and leaned into him contentedly.

"Well. That went a lot better than I feared it might."

"Indeed. It was disingenuous to invite Miss Brown instead of Miss Lovegood. I stand corrected," Severus agreed. "He hoisted himself on his own petard, spending most of the evening talking with her. That left us to talk to each other, and the other two to...moon over each other."

Something in his tone made her glance up at him. She couldn't imagine he'd be that happy about Harry and Ginny making calf-eyes at each other. "Severus, why are you smirking?"

"Just remembering the expression on Potter's...on Harry's face, as he spewed out his cake."

"Wicked man, toying with him like that." She mock-pinched him for it, but didn't put much effort into the nip of her fingertips.

"It was the truth...and no toying with me," he ordered, catching her hand.

"No toying with you?" Hermione teased. "Not even if I call you my personal cuddle-bear?"

The disdainful sneer he made would not have been out of place a few years ago, back when he had still been her teacher.

"Okay, fine, nothing cuddly. You don't do cuddly...outside of your cat form. How about...my favourite hobby-horse, something I'd love to ride all day long?" she offered teasingly. "My personal pogo-stick?"

Severus stifled a groan. The idea of her bouncing up and down on his shaft was excruciatingly appealing. Swatting her backside, he chivied her toward the kitchen. "We are not going to deflower you in the front hall, so get your mind out of the toy-box and into the soap-box, woman. We have dishes to wash."

"...I think having the ring to flash at the others helped," Hermione told him as they moved toward the stacks of dirty plates and glasses. "It lent verisimilitude to our engagement."

"Telling them that I made the ring lent verisimilitude," he corrected, grimacing a little. "Even I find it hard to believe I'd go to such lengths under normal circumstances."

"So, what, I'm an aberration in your life?" she teased, enjoying the way his dark gaze caressed her face, absorbing her happy smile. She didn't think he was consciously aware of it, but an answering smile had curved his own lips, just a little.

"Absolutely," he agreed, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Hermione sighed. "You realize that I have to get around to telling my parents just who you are." Severus merely sighed, so she continued. "I'm thinking...over the phone. From a nice, safe distance. And then arranging to see them a month later, so they have time to cool down."

"A good plan. But it's still not going to get you out of helping with the dishes."

"Not even if they kill me?" she asked wistfully, and got a smirk in reply.

"Not even then."

...

"...So then I thought, what if it was the potatoes?" Molly related as Hermione listened intently, making notes of what the Weasley matriarch said. "After all, potatoes are a part of the nightshade family of plants, and I seemed to remember from my old classes that belladonna has a counteractive effect on the tanglevine sap. So for the next five nights, I refused to serve potatoes at all. Naturally, Arthur thought I'd gone mad, but it worked. By night three, no more abrupt, middle-of-the-night snorking sounds!"

"Well, we can't ask the British Wizarding community to cut potatoes out of their diets forever," Hermione sighed. "Based on belladonna itself, there are three choices I can think of to modify the Stop Snoring Solution, but they come with side-effects of their own, and they're not the same as dealing with potatoes. There shouldn't be any abrupt snorkings, with this formula. I'll have to wait until Severus gets back from the apothecary, but I'll let him know about this. Thank you for making this discovery. What about tomatoes? Did you cut those out of his diet as well?"

"Oh, you're right! I forgot tomatoes are part of the nightshade family, too," Molly admitted. She shrugged. "No, no effect either way. Every morning, he has a rasher of bangers or bacon, three slices of fried tomatoes on his toast, and a bowl of Muggle breakfast cereal...Harry got him hooked on it. Dreadful stuff; very sugary, and utterly unnatural in hue."

At that, Hermione laughed. "Considering some of the foods I've seen at Hogwarts feasts...?"

The middle-aged witch smiled ruefully. "True. Speaking of Severus, the two of you have, erm, been living in sin together for at least three months, now. Or however long it's been since Ron came home and told us about you two. Are you...you know...still happy?"

Hermione blushed. She couldn't help the grin that stretched her mouth, either. "Yes. Very. And we're not living in sin, exactly. We still have separate bedrooms, you know. And we are engaged."

"Yes, well, that's not the same as a proper marriage. I know it would be more of your mother's place to help with the arrangements, but, well, she is a Muggle," Molly pointed out gently. "And the two of you, well, you aren't. So if it isn't too forward of me suggesting this, if you need any help arranging a wizarding ceremony, I would be delighted to do so. You've been like a daughter to me. I'm sorry you're not marrying Ron, but..."

"But while I'm a good woman, I'm not the right woman for him," Hermione stated firmly. "Ron's a good man, and he deserves the best woman for him in his life."

"True. And I don't have any doubts that you're, if not the best woman for Severus, then you're at least in the top five," Molly added blithely. At the younger witch's bemused look, she confided, "You've had a couple points knocked off the Suitability Scale for being at least half his age. May-December relationships don't always work out, so I'm still reserving judgment a little bit."

Unable to take offense at such a logical and therefore valid point, Hermione confined her response to a noncommittal shrug.

"Still, I can't think of anyone better than you, off the top of my head. He's been through such an awful lot of misery, with the war and all," the motherly witch sighed. "He deserves something good in his life. I'm glad that you're able to give it to him."

"...As am I," Severus stated from the doorway.

"Severus!" Molly exclaimed, turning to beam at him. "Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Molly." He stepped into the lab, arms laden with bulging canvas sacks. Hermione hurried over to relieve him of some of his burdens, sneaking in a peck on his cheek as she did so. He kissed her back, and...as had become their habit since the Rita Incident...paused long enough to whisper in her ear, "I love you."

Shivers rippled down her spine, prickling at her arms. It amazed Hermione that he would be so daring in front of company, even in just a mere whisper. But it was better to share it and risk discomforting others than to miss out on an opportunity to confess it one more time. "I love you, too."

"Good. I stopped at the green grocer's in the village; the sacks for the refrigerator are all in this bag, since I could risk shrinking them. There's a chilling charm on some of them, so they can wait. The thistleberries need to go into the stasis locker as soon as possible, along with the dragon spleen. Molly, how is the medicine working for Arthur's snoring problem?"

"Well, aside from a slight problem with potatoes, but not tomatoes, it's going rather well," she related, launching into her explanation.

Taking the ingredients for their business to the herb room, Hermione let Molly and her notes speak for themselves. When she came back, Severus was in what she privately liked to call his Thinking Mode, one arm folded across his chest, clasping the other elbow, while his free hand tapped his chin thoughtfully. She didn't have to wait long.

"Garbanzo beans. If we replace the wheat-based binder for the pills with chickpea flour, and add a little willow bark extract, that should take care of the problem. We'll have a fresh batch for you to test in a week. In the meantime, deprive him of tomatoes as well as potatoes for three days, see if that has any effect, and then give him his potatoes for three days, but no tomatoes. It could simply be an excess of the nightshade family...a case of one or the other, but not both, so I'd like you to experiment with that."

"I'll do that. And I really, really wanted to thank you in person. These last few weeks have been the best nights' sleep I've had in years, " the Weasley matriarch confessed. "Ever since the twins were born, Arthur's been snoring louder than a half-giant. Even Arthur admits he's been more well-rested since volunteering to be your guinea pig than he can ever remember...the two of you are going to be rich, off of this. Witches everywhere will be praising your names with this Stop Snoring Solution of yours."

"Witches everywhere will be praising your name, if your observation about the nightshade plants can be countered with the chickpea flour," Hermione countered. "A pity we won't be ready even for last-minute sales in the holiday season, but we might be able to open the new year with a bang, if the trials continue to work out so well. If you hadn't caught that bit with the potatoes..."

"...We will get it pinned down and fixed," Severus promised Molly.

"Well, we can't go around depriving our men-folk of their potatoes, just to get them to stop snoring," Molly snorted. "We'd have all the witches thanking us for stopping their snoring, but all the wizards vilifying us for meddling with their suppers.

"Speaking of which, I've a meal to go off and cook. I'll be back in a week for those new pills, though." Hugging Hermione, then Severus, Molly took herself back to the Floo hall. Then popped her head back into the lab again, leaning past the doorframe. "...Oh, and don't forget you're still invited to the Burrow for Boxing Day! Are you sure you can't convince your mum and dad to join us for Christmas, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged. "They're hosting the extended family, this year."

"Have you met them yet, Severus?" Molly asked Severus, still leaning in through the doorway.

Severus winced, remembering the nagging phone calls Hermione's mother had given her, and the reports of their shock and bewilderment that their precious daughter was not only dating, but engaged to one of her former...and not very popular...teachers.. "We're meeting this Sunday, for brunch."

"Well...erm...good luck on that. I'm sure you'll need it. Ta-ta!" With a flutter of her fingers, she vanished through the doorway. A moment later, the opening flared with a bit of green and a firmly voiced, "The Burrow!"

"Wonderful. She had to ruin my good mood," Severus muttered.

"Ruin?" Hermione questioned, turning to him. He let her tuck her arms around his waist, pulling her closer with one of his.

"Mentioning your parents," he muttered, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"It only took them a month and a half to get used to the idea of you in my life."

Wrapping his other arm around her, Severus wasn't so sure. Enjoying the warmth of her curves pressed to his body, he inhaled the faint perfume of her shampoo and took comfort in the way she burrowed into him, sniffing the scent from his clothes. "We'll see."

...

"So. You were her teacher."

Hermione wished her father had just allowed the awkward silence to stretch on between them, interrupted only by the clinking of silverware against pottery. The tension had been bad, yes, but not this bad. She felt like her muscles were pulling too tight, anticipating the row that her father was about to start.

"I haven't been for over a year and a half."

"But you were. Did you ever...?" Jeffrey asked, trailing off awkwardly as his daughter glared at him.

Severus put down his fork and knife. He wiped his mouth with the napkin provided by Rachel, made sure his mouth was clear of food...then pinned the other man with a dark, hard look. "While she was a student at Hogwarts, I saw your daughter from halfway across the Great Hall at meals, in the corridors in passing, and during the occasional rule-breaking escapade, wherein she was usually the insufficient break being applied to her friends' runaway schemes. She was one of the more competent students in my classes, but in being so, she required very little of my attention and supervision during class-time.

"I found her to be annoyingly verbose and overly interested in showing off her excessive knowledge, so I did my best to ignore and forget about her. In short, sir, madam, I didn't know your daughter. And I have never been interested in any of my students. With rare exception, I considered most of them snotty-nosed, mindless brats who were as determined to push out every single piece of advice and information I attempt to stuff into their empty little craniums. I had even less interest in their puerile attempts at courtship, most of which consisted of awkward blushes, fumbling gropes, and slobbery kisses of a sort that a St. Bernard could have performed...and with far better breath on the dog's part.

"In short, sir, had I not been removed from the school by circumstances, I would never have bothered with getting to know your daughter in any way, shape or form."

Taken aback, Jeffrey Granger eyed him. "Well. That was...erm..."

"...Rather blunt," Rachel finished for her husband, touching Jeffrey's hand before looking at Severus. "But I believe you. Now that you have gotten to know our daughter...what do you think of her?"

"Mum!" Hermione protested, thinking the previous line of questioning might have been less embarrassing, if more rude.

Aware of the parental minefield that he had just successfully navigated, Severus debated how blunt to be in this second round of interrogation over their brunch of quiche florentine and brussel sprouts. Finally, he shrugged. "That I am glad I did not bother with getting to know her while she was a student of mine. It spared me from what might have become a rather difficult moral dilemma."

All three Grangers blinked at him, though Hermione at least didn't look quite as bemused as her parents did.

"Time and distance have since freed both of us from our previous association as student and teacher, and have given us opportunity to view each other as both friends and adults," Severus lectured. "As two adults who share many interests, from an increasingly profitable potions research business to the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, the more I get to know Hermione, the more I enjoy my time with her, and the more I want to spend my time with her. That is what I think of her...and anything further than that is personal, and...respectfully...none of your business."

Another awkward silence passed around the table, then Jeffrey lifted his water glass. "...Well said. So long as she continues to enjoy your own company, we'll do our best to accept it. All we want is for our daughter to be happy. Right, love?"

"Right," Rachel agreed. She lifted her own glass. "A toast: May you always enjoy each other's company."

Lifting her glass, Hermione relaxed a little. Not completely; in the whole, awkward, getting-to-know-him stage, her parents would probably still put their feet in it...even dentists were subject to foot-in-mouth disease...but at least they seemed to finally be warming up to him.

"So...how is your new cat getting along?" her mother asked, changing the subject.

"Oh! Er...swimmingly." Hermione glanced at Severus for help, since she didn't know if he wanted to reveal that part of himself or not.

Once again, he set down his silverware and wiped his mouth. A flex of his magic, and Severus turned himself into Puss. Blinking his dark eyes at her startled parents, he stayed on the chair for a moment, whiskered head just barely above the table-top, then Transfigured back to his normal form.

"Goodness! You...you were Puss-in-Boots?" Rachel asked, giving him a wide-eyed look.

"It's a long story," Hermione explained quickly. "But that's how we ended up spending a lot of time together. And I've learnt how to do it, too. I can also change into a cat and back, myself."

"We'll save the demonstration of that for after pudding," Jeffrey told his daughter. "Let's talk about this new business of yours, instead."

Glad they were back to a much safer topic, Hermione finished relaxing. Mostly.