Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

A/N: Many thanks and apologies to all who have followed and waited for this update. As always, my gratitude to ladyinthecloak and lariope whose beta skills make this story readable.

*****

CHAPTER 13

Hermione was grateful to see Harry, the last of their guests, Disapparate from the back garden. It had been a long and stress-filled day, preceded by almost three months of subterfuge on her part. She was amazed Severus had stayed sane having to lie to Voldemort, the members of the Order and, yes, even the Headmaster, on occasion; all in the name of saving the wizarding world from the rule of Lord Voldemort himself. He definitely deserved a reward, not just for how well he managed to handle himself with Harry and Ron this evening, but for all he had done – past and present. Though he had been cleared of all the charges in relationship to the war and killing the Headmaster, Hermione knew he would still be considered a pariah of society. Forgiven he was, but people would always remember what he had done...forced or not. The thought lay heavy on her mind.

*****

It was a pensive pair who entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. "She really seems to care for him." Ron broke the silence with a near whisper. He had already accepted the fact that he and Hermione would never be together, but he was shocked to find the only emotion he felt when thinking of his best friend...for Hermione was his best friend...was bemused surprise.

Running his hands through his perpetually mussed hair, Harry looked over at Ron, grateful to see his mate did not appear overly hurt by the realization. "Yeah, and you know something, I think he cares about her too."

"It just seems weird to think...the greasy git has a heart," Ron replied.

Harry paused as he thought about this. For years they had all thought Snape was the most heartless person alive, and then he had seen the memories of his mother. Not all the memories Snape had given him had been necessary to winning the war, but Harry was glad he had seen them. He did not have much experience in relationships, but he understood the look in his mother's eye when she had looked at Snape in those memories. She had loved him, and had his father not been the git and humiliated the young Severus Snape...life would have been very different, and Harry understood this now.

"I don't know, mate; I think maybe he always has but..." Harry trailed off not knowing how to complete the thought still circling in his mind. He still could not believe Snape was willing to tell him about his mother, Lily Evans. Many people were willing to share their thoughts about the man who had sired him, but few said much about his mother and made it seem as though his father could do no wrong. Harry still remembered the Pensieve memory he had seen in his fifth year, and he knew there was much about his parents he did not know.

*****

"Dora, what are you on about?" Remus asked, completely bemused as to why his wife was stomping about the house, her hair a fire engine red...a sure sign she was royally pissed about something. He had thought she would be happy, thrilled, and ecstatic to know he would no longer be a danger to their family.

Whirling on her husband, wand out and tears in her eyes, Tonks slumped in defeat. "Oh, Remmy, don't you understand? First, you go off by yourself instead of taking a potion, and now I find you have been holed up with another woman."

As she thought about it, her anger returned. "Not just another woman but, a younger, prettier, smarter witch, and she's the one who got to share this with you! You have known for a month, a whole bleeding month!" Her anger exhausted, Tonks slumped onto the sofa in front of the window.

Recognition finally dawned in Remus' soft brown eyes as he knelt before his wife. "Dora, how could you think I would look at another witch? You are my light!" Rising to his feet, he drew her to his side. "Come here; I want to do something," he said, and he led her to the back garden, lit only by the moonlight. With a flick of his wand, a soft waltz began to play. "Because of Severus and Hermione, I can finally hold you in my arms and dance with you in the light of a full moon. I wanted so badly to tell you, but I also owed them my silence as they gave me a new life."

As Tonks leaned into her husband's chest, she enjoyed the moment of being held by the man she loved. "Are you sure you do not find her more attractive?" she whispered her insecurity.

A low rumbling chuckle from deep in Remus' chest had her looking up into his eyes.

"Even if I were to agree that Hermione is all you claim, I value my life too much to even voice that opinion in front of Severus," Remus explained.

"Severus?" The puzzled look on the Metamorphmagus' face confirmed she had been too wrapped up in her own turmoil to notice the budding relationship between the acerbic Potions master and the pride of Gryffindor.

"Yes, Severus," he replied.

Pushing away from her husband's chest, Tonks looked at him in wonder. "Tell me!"

*****

Albus settled into the armchair before the fireplace in the Headmaster's office with a contented sigh. Things seemed to be working out better than even he had hoped. Severus, with Miss Granger's help, had managed to find if not a cure then a stop gap to a cure for Lycanthropy. He was alive and would live a good many years, as would many of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and his son was in love. Albus thoroughly approved of Miss Granger and felt she would make an ideal mate for the cantankerous Potions master.

"Albus!"

Lost in thought, he jumped as Minerva called his name.

"Yes, my dear?" he inquired somewhat absent-mindedly.

"Are you certain? How could you possibly believe that sweet young girl would be happy with Severus?" she demanded pensively.

"Minerva, my love, I am as certain of their love as I am of the love I hold for you," he replied as he pulled her into his arms. It had been a long time since he had held the witch.

It was a little known fact that Professor McGonagall was really Professor McGonagall-Dumbledore. They had not wanted to publicize their union should it make her more of a target, a way to get to the Headmaster through those he loved.

"But really, Albus, how can she survive his sarcasm?" Minerva continued, undeterred by the kisses he was bestowing on her throat.

"How, dear Minerva, have you survived my love of sweets, eternal optimism and foolhardy scheming for the last fifty years?" Albus asked in all seriousness.

With a dawning expression on her stern features, the Transfiguration mistress gave in and rested her head upon her husband's chest. How did I survive and endure what he named as some of his most annoying qualities? she thought. The answer was simple...she loved him, and if Hermione loved Severus as she loved Albus, then all would be well.

*****

It was in ignorant bliss that the Potions master ventured up the stairs to what had become their bedroom. He was intrigued by the note he had found on the kitchen table.

"My darling Severus, For your just rewards please meet me where the light of the moon meets heaven's journey. Love, Hermione" What could she possibly have in mind, and what did she mean by the light of the moon and heaven's journey? Severus pondered as he ascended the stairs.

When he opened the bedroom door, he was met with complete darkness save the moon filtering in through the gossamer window hangings. Before he could utter Lumos, he was distracted by the vision of loveliness gracing the bed. There she lay, the goddess of his dreams, the only decoration to her body the silver light of the moon. Her hair spread upon the pillows in a dark cascade of riotous curls. As his vision adjusted to the dim lighting, his eyes fed on the glorious sight before him as she lay, posed in wanton abandonment.

As though he were under an Imperius Curse, his feet carried him onward into the room. When he reached the side of the bed, she, this goddess of the moonlight, held out her hands to him, drawing him down to her side.

As Severus lay beside her, Hermione slowly began to explore his countenance; without a single word, her fingertips mapped the plains and valleys of his face. It was a most erotic sensation to be so lightly touched, yet so thoroughly explored. Her hands continued down his chest; as those nimble fingers opened each button, they continued to explore the flesh revealed. By the time she reached the top of his trousers, his belly was aquiver with desire, but he was loath to move a muscle for fear of breaking the spell she wove. This was different than any of their previous encounters. Always in the past, Hermione had sought to arouse him through relaxation...almost timidly. This time she skipped the massaging ministrations to his body and instead set him aflame by her soft and gentle touch. No inch of flesh bared was denied the grace of her fingers and only her fingers. She mapped his body as a blind person might explore a topographical map, as a sculptor molds clay, as the soft mist of a London rain coats one's skin. Severus' fists were clenched in the duvet covering the bed, to prevent grasping hold of her and taking what his body craved, because he did not want to miss a moment of the sweet torment she had planned.

Hermione was amazed at the control Severus was exhibiting. It did not pass her notice when his breath grew shallow and his muscles quivered under her touch. In the past, she had always chosen to arouse him through massage because she feared he would reject her otherwise. In the weeks since they had first tested the modified Wolfsbane potion, she had let him take the lead whenever they made love, but tonight she wanted to be the one to drive him mad with passion. He has such a beautiful body, she mused. All lean and strong. When she had the last button on the front of his trousers undone, his manhood pulsed, rippling under the boxers which could not hide the strength of his arousal. Gracefully, she shed him of both trousers and boxers. Looking down on him from her kneeling position on the bed, he looked like a Grecian God. His cock stood straight up from a patch of dark curls at the juncture of his thighs; the only clothing he wore was a white linen shirt unbuttoned to reveal his pale, lightly-haired chest, and his eyes were hooded pools of black onyx. Hermione caught her breath as her own body echoed the desire she read in his eyes and lowered herself to begin her journey up from the soles of his feet...this time with her tongue.

Blanketed in lust, Severus could not prevent the moan that rumbled from his chest when he felt her soft, moist tongue brush the very curve in the arch of his foot. Sweet Nimue, he thought as another moan escaped his tortured lungs. Who would have thought feet could be so sensitive to arousal?

Enjoying the power she elicited over her lover, though she knew the tables could turn at any time, Hermione continued her way up the writhing man's body. She alternated back and forth between his legs, leaving not an inch of skin neglected.

When her tongue brushed lightly over the crinkled skin of his scrotum, Severus could not contain himself; as his seed pulsed out of his throbbing member, his back arched off the bed, he shouted, "Hermione! My love!" He tumbled them over, reversing their positions as his cock continued to throb, sinking into her hot, moist depths.

Hermione was so aroused by what she had done to the controlled man that it only took a few thrusts for him to send her over the edge, and she screamed her own release scattered with words of love. So lost was she in her own passion, she was not sure she heard the last words Severus whispered as he drifted off, spent from his climax, his head cushioned on her breasts.

"Marry me..."