Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, the smallest of moments signaled the largest of disasters.

For Hermione, the first indication that her life was about to fall apart was a dusty shelf. Even after using a cleaning spell, the dust remained. Odd. Every other time she’d cast the spell, the dust disappeared in an instant. Yet here it was, its existence mocking her deficiency in house cleaning spells. It wouldn’t have been so problematic if Ron had not been there to point out her misstep.

“You’ll have to learn how to dust properly if you want to move in with me.” If he were doing anything other than criticizing her, his grin would’ve been adorable. At the moment, though, Hermione wanted to hex it right off his face.

“Perhaps you need to learn to dust properly before you move in with me.” She argued, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why should I do that?"

“Because everyone needs to know how to clean, lest their partner be unable to do so.”

"My father doesn't know how to clean."

"That's unfortunate because even men should know how to clean."

She glanced at the bookshelf, the offending dust mocking her efforts to instill a sense of gender equality into her boyfriend. He gave her the most innocent expression he could. “But you know me, ‘Mione. I’m hopeless at keeping anything clean.”

“Perhaps you should learn a few cleaning spells then.”

“Or perhaps you could learn to clean better.” He met her eyes, knowing that playful expression ended most of their arguments.

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he captured her lips. Before she could think better of it, her body responded to his. She had to give him credit; he wasn’t a terrible kisser. Then again, Viktor was the only man she could compare him to. Most of her kisses with him were two teenagers fumbling about. Ron’s kisses were special, though, special enough to make her forget the nagging feeling that she should know why her spell failed.

His kiss was not distracting enough to blot out the sounds of crashing glass from the house next door.

Hermione broke away and peered out her window. From the dim light, she could see the silhouette of her neighbor rising from the ground like a bat ready to take flight. Although she could not hear a sound, she saw him shake his head and move his mouth, uttering what she imagined were a few choice words. She could envision his scowl as he took another step, hoping nobody noticed he had fallen once more.

“What’s wrong?” Ron kissed her cheek.

“Nothing,” Hermione swallowed.

"Then why are you looking at Snape?"

“This is the fifth time this week that he’s tripped over something.”

“So.” Ron nipped her earlobe.

“So.” She broke away. “He may need my help.”

“Doubtful. Snape doesn't need anyone's help. He never has, and he never will.” He leaned forward to kiss her again.

She stepped back. “He will need help if he breaks something during one of his falls. The last thing I want for him is to develop an infection from a glass cut.”

“He didn’t break anything, and he won’t get an infection from a small cut.” He stepped towards her.

“Even small glass cuts are no laughing matter. He could need medical attention.”

“He’s fine.”

“I would like to see that for myself.” She turned to the door.

“‘Mione, he’s the greasy git.” Ron grabbed her arm. “He survived Voldemort and Dumbledore. He isn’t going to die from tripping over something.”

Hermione’s frown returned. “How many times have I told you that he’s not the greasy git?”

“He’s Severus Snape, hero of the Wizarding World, reasonably friendly next-door neighbor. I know, I know.” Ron snorted. “Right now, he’s a right old cockblocker.”

“He’s not a cockblocker. He’s someone who may be injured and need my help.”

Ron bit his tongue.

“He could be injured," she argued.

“He’s standing right now. That’s hardly being injured.”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants your help either.”

The light went out in the house next door, the darkness absorbing the silhouette.

“See, he’s going to bed.” Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. “Which is where we should be.”

“I suppose so.” She allowed him to lead her to the bed. “Just let me change out of my robes…”

“Oh, I can do that for you.” He tugged at her shirt. “I am more than happy to do that for you.”

“Fine.” She relaxed in his embrace, wondering why the Lumos she’d cast appeared dimmer than it had last week.

***

The first moment she struggled to cure a patient would forever be etched upon her mind.

Perhaps the dusting incident from two days before was leading her to overthink her spells, thus blocking her magic. The dust incident was a fluke, as was this. For all she knew, she’d underestimated how much magic it took to perform the procedure.

It was a simple procedure: return a leg from wood to its proper form. Hermione had performed the necessary spells at least a hundred times. They were simple and only took one try with a few waves of the wand.

Yet she had to cast the spells twice to succeed.

She blushed upon her first failure. The patient took a deep breath, oblivious to how long this should take. After clearing her throat, she straightened her healer uniform and performed the spells again, this time finding success. With a grin, the patient curled his toes and stretched his now fleshy leg.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “I guess I shouldn’t get into so many bar fights, at least not ones with lumberjacks. I was lucky they only turned my leg into wood instead of casting a Sectumsempra.”

“You shouldn’t be getting into bar fights at all.” She put a finger on his chest. “I can’t keep fixing you up like this.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is to stop drinking so much beer because it’s bad for my liver.”

“Heavy drinking isn’t great for your health anyway.”

“So you healers say.” He slid off the gray padded examination table. “The liver regeneration potions seem to be working just fine for me.”

“At some point they won’t work.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “Perhaps it is time to look into one of those muggle rehab centers. My mother’s been bugging me to go into one for a while now.”

“I would go into one before someone turns your whole body into wood.”

“That may not be a terrible idea.” He held up his hand. “Thank you again.”

“Anytime, Mr. Chalmers.” She waved at him.

He gave her a pleasant expression before strolling off. She exhaled and shook her head. Some people would never learn to care for themselves.

“I see you have another repeat customer.”

Hermione glanced at the doorway and moistened her lips. “It isn’t polite to call patients customers.”

“What is honest and what is polite are often two different things.” He walked over to her, his appearance as imposing as ever despite the fact he was squinting and each footstep was tentative. “Hospitals are a business after all. If the customer, or patient, or whatever they wish to be called, is unhappy, so is the Board.”

“You have a point there.” She slouched.

He examined her before asking. “What is troubling you?”

She stared at him. “I didn’t know you cared to converse during work hours.”

“Normally I don’t.” He stretched. “But there’s little else to do right now. My orders are filled, and I don’t fancy going out for a cup of coffee.”

“So you decided to socialize?”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate me being more social.” He smirked.

She met his eyes, formulating her next words. Before one escaped from her mouth, her eyes grew. “Severus, your nose!”

“My nose?"

"Yes." Her eyes were locked onto the bruise that covered at least half his nose. “Your nose is bruised.”

He paled.

“Here.” She moved her body until his was forced against the examination table. “Let me get you some cream to make it less noticeable and reduce the swelling.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“No, you aren’t.” She gestured for him to sit on top of the table.

“Granger, I’m fine.” He refused to move.

“Don’t Granger me when I’m trying to help you.” Hermione rushed over to a metal desk. Then she raised her wand and muttered a spell.

It took a second longer to open than usual, but it did so.

“I’m fine,” Severus barked.

“No, you aren’t,” She pulled out the cream. “You need this.”

“I don’t want to be charged for a facial,” he argued. “Not when all I’m trying to do is deliver antidotes to love potions.”

“We both know this isn’t going to be charged.” She took a dab of cream and put it on her finger.

“Someday it may be.”

“That day isn’t today.”

He hummed.

“You need to figure out why you’re having all these falls.” She continued as she rubbed the last of the cream on him. “If you aren't careful, you could break a bone.”

“It wouldn't be the first time I'd broken a bone."

Hermione’s body went cold as she met his eyes. In her medical textbooks, she’d seen illustrations of the injuries many Death Eaters had endured at Voldemort’s hands. She suspected they’d only shown diagrams of the less severe ones. The more serious injuries were always described in cold, matter-of-fact detail. The more factual the explanation, the worse she imagined the injury to be. Her voice softened. “This isn’t the war. You deserve to live a life free of injury.”

“A few bruises is the least I deserve for everything I’ve done,” he argued.

“That isn’t true, and you know it.”

He gripped the edges of the table tighter as she finished rubbing the cream in.

“It wouldn’t be a terrible idea to see someone about your falls, if only so they can prevent you from hitting your head and developing a concussion. Nobody here wants to be short on potions because you’ve cracked your head open tripping over a bookshelf.”

For the first time, he stopped squinting and met her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She moved towards the table. “The bruising should be lessened now, and the swelling should go down. Within a day or two, the bruise should be healed.”

“Thank you,” he answered.

“You can thank me by seeing someone about these falls. It’s not good for you or anyone else to sustain this many injuries.” She put the cap back on the cream container.

“I’ll consider it.” He slid off the table. “Though, there is always the chance that I won’t do a thing any of you healers say. I must maintain my reputation as a contrarian, lest someone believe I am capable of listening to others.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Still, I will take your concerns into consideration.” He stepped gingerly towards the door. “There is no charge for the cream?”

“Not so long as you bake me those lemon bars I like so much.”

“And now I learn your true motivation.” His lips twitched upwards. “I would be nothing to you without the lemon bars.”

“I wouldn’t say you’d be nothing, but they do endear you to me.”

“Who knew the quickest way to your heart was through your stomach?”

“Apparently you do now.”

“Indeed, even you have your price.”

“I don’t call it a price, just an opportunity I seized upon.”

“And here I thought you didn’t have any Slytherin instincts.”

“Perhaps living next door to a Slytherin for six years has rubbed off on me.”

“Indeed it has,” Severus couldn’t hide the gleam in his eyes. “Sadly, I must take my leave.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I never said thank you.”

“But you should’ve.”

He let out a noise that was akin to laughter before walking down the hall, his gait slower than usual. Then again, the drawer opened slower than it should’ve. Perhaps everything was slowing down, and she hadn’t noticed until now.

Before Hermione could meditate on the current state of the world, she glanced at the clock on the wall. Only one more minute until the next patient. After casting a few spells to clean the room, she shoved the last patient from her mind.

Her life was too perfect to worry about something as silly as a few minor setbacks.

Chapter Text

Holding hands, Ron and Hermione strolled from the apparation point to the Burrow, just as they did almost every Wednesday. The sound of laughter and animated conversations radiated from the house, its warmth as welcoming as the sun on the first day of spring. Already the aroma of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes wafted through the air. Everything around Hermione was magic steeped in love. 

All of it was perfect.

Ron knocked on the door before kissing Hermione on the cheek. She blushed before returning the kiss. Before she could get lost in the moment, the door opened.

“Hermione!” Molly embraced her. “We were afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“I apologize for being a few minutes late.” She released Ron’s hand and returned the other woman's embrace. “There was a last-minute emergency, so I was at work longer than expected.”

"That’s no problem,” Molly squeezed her tighter. “You're here now. That's all that matters."

“I'm glad to be here,” Hermione squeaked before gasping for air.

“And you.” Molly released Hermione and turned to her son. “You could use a haircut.”

Hermione stumbled backward, almost tripping over a gnome.

“I know, but things at the joke shop have been so hard lately,” he complained as his mother ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ve been busy and too tired at the end of the day for a haircut.”

“George has been working you too hard then.”

"He has."

“Well, I’ll force him to get some time off so you can get your hair cut.” Molly ushered Ron in. "Perhaps if you're lucky, I'll have time to teach Hermione how to do it so you don't need to pay for someone to get it done."

"I don't think I could do it well..." Hermione began.

"But there'll be time to teach her later," Molly continued. "Right now, we just need to focus on getting your brother to give you more time off. I'll just have a quick conversation with him, and then it will all be straightened out."

“Thanks, Mum.” He grinned. "I need more time off."

Hermione followed them inside, not daring to mention that Ron had a two-hour lunch break today and had spent most of the night before bragging about how easy his job was. He had time to tend to his long hair. Then again, Hermione was usually the one who scheduled his hair appointments. Perhaps she needed to put that on her to-do list since haircuts were such a low priority for him.

“Is Ginny here?” Hermione asked.

Molly frowned as the light was extinguished from her eyes. “No, she refused to come here without her husband, so we told her not to bother coming at all.”

“I see.”

“I’m surprised she’s kept up her defiant attitude as long as she has. It truly is outrageous how she clings to her husband and insists he goes everywhere with her.”

“Why does that surprise you?” Hermione cocked her head. “Shouldn’t a woman want to spend time with her husband?”

"It would be if that man were anyone other than Draco Bloody Malfoy."

"Yes, but he's her husband."

"And I'm her mother. That should mean more to her."

Hermione tensed as she prepared for another tirade.

“I don’t want to see Draco bloody Malfoy.” Molly spat. “If I don’t want to see Draco bloody Malfoy, then Ginny needs to respect my decision and not throw him in my face. Ginny is perfectly capable of coming to the Burrow with only Scorpius and Cassie. She doesn’t need to bring her husband everywhere.”

Hermione bit her lip.

“Oh, she may be able to forget what he’s done, but I haven’t. There’s a reason he specializes in curing dark spells. He knows every single one of them. It wouldn’t shock me if he curses a few people so they seek him out. It would be just like a Malfoy to curse people so he can financially exploit them!””

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don't give me that look! I know you think I’m crazy, but the Malfoys are a brood of vicious vipers. Now, if Ginny had married a good, respectable man, I would invite her to more outings. If only she had married…”

“Hermione.” Harry rushed over and embraced her. “It’s been so long since I've seen you.”

“Harry,” she laughed. “It’s only been a day.”

“Yes, but that’s a day too long.” He looked into her eyes. “Why don’t you come over to the couch with me?”

Hermione turned to Molly, whose face was as red as her hair.

“I’d like that very much.” Hermione followed Harry. Once she was out of Molly’s earshot, she leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“Anytime.” Harry stopped. “She’s a bit much when it comes to Draco.”

"She can be a bit much a lot of the time."

"True."

“You think she would’ve accepted Draco by now. He and Ginny have been married for eight years. It's clear she isn't leaving him, so why not welcome him into the family?”

Harry snorted. “Do you actually expect Molly to change her mind about Draco?"

“Yes, I mean, you accepted him. If you can accept him, anyone can.”

“Only because I have Luna.” Harry turned to the blond across the room, who was laughing at one of Ron’s many jokes, before he took a large gulp of beer. Then, Luna put a hand on her bulging stomach.

“How is she doing?” Hermione asked.

“She’s doing great.” Harry's voice was tender. “The pregnancy is going smoothly for her.”

“Good.” Hermione’s lip twitched upwards. “She’s glowing.”

“She is.” Harry’s eyes glistened. “Now that her magic is under control, she is in a better place.”

“Magic?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry chuckled. “Some days her magic didn’t work as it should. It would take a couple of tries to cast certain spells, and at times using magic would exhaust her. It’s pretty typical for the first trimester. We’re glad to be out of all that.”

“Oh.” Hermione shook before glancing at her pelvis.

Across the room, Ron laughed again before taking another large gulp of beer.

“Anyway.” Harry put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “How close are you and Ron to determining who is going to move in with who?”

“About as close as we were to it a month ago.” She met Harry’s eyes. “I know he likes his flat, but it’s much smaller than my house. I would like more space for my things as well as his. Our lives can expand in my house. His flat? Not so much.”

“True, but his flat is the first thing that was actually his. It was the first thing he could pay for. That means something to him.”

She frowned. “So he’s told me.”

“Besides, I hear his neighbors are less surly." Harry winked.

“What does that mean?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Well, his neighbors aren’t quite as pissy at the world as yours are.”

“Harry.” Her eyes grew. “I thought you said you liked Severus.”

“We've reached an understanding anyway,” Harry answered. 

“So why are you so hard on him?”

"Just because he's fine with me doesn't mean he's fine with everyone."

"Just because he doesn't tolerate fools doesn't make him surly."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Harry's eyes softened. “Sometimes Ron worries about how he treats you.”

“Why would he worry about that?" Hermione asked. "For the most part. Snape is quiet, keeps to himself, and at times can be courteous.”

“It’s those times that worry Ron.”

“Why?”

“Because Ron worries he’s mistreating you behind his back, or he may say something to make you doubt your boyfriend," he argued.

“First of all, I can stand up for myself. If Severus is mistreating me, I will call him on it. Second of all, Severus and I barely talk about Ron," she answered.

“You barely talk about Ron?”

"I mean, we talk about him sometimes, but there are other things Severus and I are interested in, such as books and his latest potion experiments.”

"And you talk about those?" Harry jammed his hands into his pockets."

"Yes." She relaxed. "We have many fascinating conversations about the books we read and his latest potion theories."

“How close are you two?"

“I wouldn't call us close, but we are friends.”

“Do you see how Ron could be jealous of that?”

Hermione turned to Ron, who slammed his can of beer onto the coffee table. Laughing, he strolled over to the cooler and grabbed another one.

“If Ron is jealous of Severus, he can discuss it with me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Severus has no intention of coming between us, nor would I ever allow him to do so."

"And you're certain of that?" He asked.

"I'm positive."

“Fine.” Harry leaned towards her and continued in a low voice, “I saw Ron reading up on key replication spells.”

“Oh.” She snuck another look at her pelvis. “So he has.”

“I’m glad he’s getting off his arse and considering his future,” Harry continued. “Dating for seven years without moving in is a little ridiculous. I was beginning to think you two would never take the next step.”

“What do you mean by next step? We aren’t even engaged yet,” her voice was softer.

“How much longer do you think that will last?” There was a gleam in Harry’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” She glanced at her finger. "He hasn't so much as asked me for my ring size."

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but,” Harry whispered in her ear. “He’s been asking me about ring designs.”

“Really?” She couldn’t suppress the smile that overtook her face.

Harry nodded.

Her eyes glistened as she imagined Ron in a tuxedo, gazing upon her as she walked down the aisle in a white ballroom dress. It would be the culmination of the love she had felt for him since she was an adolescent. Her father would hold her arm as the Weasleys looked on, all eager for her to join the family. She’d have the perfect family she’d always dreamed of.

“Harry.” Luna turned to Hermione. “You appear quite happy, much happier than usual. Is there a reason?”

“Oh, you know.” Hermione folded her hands. “I had a good day at work, and I'm with the people I love."

Luna examined her before humming. “The glow pixies are surrounding you.”

“Glow pixies?” Hermione asked.

“Yes.” Luna frowned. “They signal when someone is about to change their life course.”

“Well,” Hermione turned to Ron, who was gulping his second can of beer and blushed. “My life could be changing very soon.”

“How?” Ron took a sip of his beer before stumbling over to her.

“I don’t know.” She stepped closer to him. “I just have a feeling that our love is only going to grow stronger as the years go on.”

“Of course it will.” He put an arm around her. “We were always meant for each other. We will be together no matter what happens.”

“I know,” she kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He jammed his lips against hers. Then he backed away. “Mum’s almost done with the food.”

She wiped the slobber from her lips. “We’d better find a place at the table then.”

“Yes, because I want to be the first to be served chicken.”

“Of course you do.” She frowned as he rushed to the table. Shaking her head, she followed him. Some things about Ron would never change.

She wouldn’t have him any other way.

***

The scratching at the door wasn’t unexpected, nor was it unwelcome. Severus stepped towards the door, careful not to trip on any hazards that may be in his way.

For some reason, Crookshanks had decided Severus was his second owner. Despite Severus’ insistence that he hated orange hair all over his robes, Crookshanks continued to grace his doorstep.

Not that Crookshanks’ presence was always odious. Tonight, Severus wouldn't mind the warmth of a feline, if only to get his mind off how difficult it was to crack this code. Not that he had a choice but to master it. Only by cracking this code could he ensure that he maintained the level of independence he had at that moment.

He opened his front door, the cool night air caressing his hands. The beast on the other side let out a meow, as if he were a gentleman. Severus knew better. When it came to obtaining salami, Crookshanks was anything but patient and polite.

“I was wondering if you would show your face again.”

The feline purred and rubbed up against Severus’ leg as he strutted into the sitting room.

“I will give you your treat in due time.” He shut the door behind him. “Right now, I need to conduct some research.”

The half-kneazle let out a mew.

“It is not as easy as it once was.” Severus cleared his throat. “Had anyone told me a decade ago I’d be relearning to read, I would have considered that person an imbecile. Now though…"

Crookshanks meowed louder.

“Yes, I heard you.” Severus stepped towards the sound of the meow. 

Once Severus was a step behind Crookshanks, he began to purr. Then, he continued his trek to the chair. Severus followed the sound, afraid to admit to himself how grateful he was to his new companion.

Crookshanks grew quiet once he reached his destination. Severus squinted before situating himself and sitting down. Then, Crookshanks took his rightful place on Severus’ lap.

“Perhaps you aren’t such a nuisance after all,” Severus noted.

The feline let out a louder purr as he adjusted himself into a comfortable position.

Severus ran his finger over the page. A few of the words were decipherable, though other symbols still eluded him. There was time, though. Severus had time to decipher all this.

In the end, all he needed was time.

Chapter Text

Hermione peeked through her curtains. The full moonlight illuminated her lawn. Still, her feline was nowhere in sight. Already, she had searched her house, and he did not appear. Even after calling his name ten times and opening a fresh can of cat food, there was no sign of him. Twisting her lips, she looked into her neighbor’s window. Within a few moments, his silhouette came into view. He pointed to the doorway to his bedroom and opened his mouth, though she couldn’t hear what he was saying. What she did see was a feline jump onto the windowsill.

Hermione opened her window. “Crookshanks, I’m home.”

The half-kneazle twitched his ear.

"Crookshanks, you need to come in here now and leave Severus alone."

Crookshanks swept his tail from one side of the windowsill to another.

Severus pointed at the doorway as his mouth moved. The feline just yawned.

“Come home, Crookshanks! Severus wants to be alone now!” Hermione called.

Severus nodded as Crookshanks turned around and met Hermione's eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Hermione turned around, where Ron stood, wearing only an orange-pelted bathrobe. She swallowed before returning her attention to the window.

Crookshanks growled before sticking up his tail and jumping off the windowsill into Severus' bedroom. For a second, Hermione thought he was going to exit Severus' room. Yet from the slouch in Severus’ posture, it was clear Crookshanks had jumped on the potions master’s bed. He folded his arms over his chest and appeared to say a few choice words. Still, he seemed resigned to his fate as a lap warmer.

Hermione sighed. Severus was on the verge of allowing him to stay the night, “just this once,” as he had dozens of times before. The man was a cream puff when it came to felines, though he would never admit it aloud. Her chest constricted at the thought that he may be too lonely to put up much of a fight against Crookshanks’ offer of companionship, which meant the feline would stay well past noon, as he almost always did in these circumstances.

“Will Crookshanks not come in again?” Ron began massaging her shoulders.

“Yes, he wants to stay over at Severus’ house again.” She leaned into her boyfriend's touch as Severus extinguished his wand.

“Bugger.” Ron frowned as he dug his fingernails into her shoulder. “Nobody prefers Severus to me except that little bugger. It's bloody annoying.”

“Don’t be too upset with him.” She winced as his fingernails dug in deeper. “He’s still getting used to you.”

“He’s had seven years to get used to me.” He pressed into her harder. "It's about time he accepts that I'm always going to be in your life."

“I know, but you have to stop calling him names like ‘bugger.” She moved away from Ron and rubbed her right shoulder over the scratch mark he'd left. “He doesn’t like being insulted.”

“He’s a cat. He has no idea what I’m saying.”

“He can tell when your tone isn’t kind.” She winced. “You have to be nicer to him, or else he'll keep running to Severus' house.”

"If he likes the greasy git so much, maybe he should be his cat."

"Ron!"

“Fine, he can be your cat. That doesn't mean I have to like him."

"Of course you do. He's a part of my family."

"I wish he'd consider me a part of his family. All he does is growl and hiss at me,” he argued. "It's bloody annoying."

“Have you tried giving him a treat?”

“No.” Ron huffed. “But I don’t know why I should. It’s wasting perfectly good food on a fleabag.”

“He’s not a fleabag!”

“Fine, he's an orange git. Even you can’t deny he’s an orange git.”

She groaned before shaking her head.

“Look, Crookshanks is a grump who hates me. I mean, he hates me so much he’s spending time with the greasy git!”

“His name is Severus.”

Ron scowled. "Fine, he's Snape. Crookshanks can be with Snape. It might make him appreciate me more. After all, I’m much more pleasant than the dungeon bat. Once he sees what a real git looks like, he’ll start being nicer to me.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and warned in a low voice, "His name is Severus, and he deserves respect. That means you shouldn't call him names."

Ron threw up his hands. He opened her mouth just enough for her to get a whiff of the odor of four beers on his breath. Her stomach churned.

"I don't get why you want me to people and things that hate me," Ron growled.

“If you were nicer to cats and people, they may like you more," Hermione argued.

“Normal people like me just fine. It’s your git of a cat and the greasy git who have a problem with me.”

"What did I just say about calling Severus by his name?"

"What did I just say about Snape not being a nice man?"

She groaned before trudging to bed.

“What?” Ron demanded. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.” She sat on the bed. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”

“I am too.” Ron relaxed, his eyes already bloodshot. “The party was exciting, and I had so much food. It was great.”

“Yes, though there wasn’t much left after your third helping of chicken.” Hermione’s lips twitched upwards.

“Yes, well, working at the joke shop makes me tired and gets me hungry.” He moved the duvet and sheets before lying down on the bed. “I needed to eat.”

“I’m sure you did.” She crawled under the covers with him before frowning. “It seemed that you needed to drink as well.”

“Yeah, I needed to relax. I’m glad I finally did.”

“Did you need to drink as much as you did?”

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're more combative than usual, and you've slurred a few of your words."

“I’m not drunk, at least not as drunk as I usually get.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Ron put his arms around her and hummed. Then he kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, even if you like Snape and Crookshanks too much.”

“I love you too,” she purred as the tension in her muscles eased.

For a moment, they lay together in a comfortable silence. Then, Hermione’s throat tightened. “Ron?”

"What?" he whispered.

“Have you?” She gulped. “Have you ever thought about having a baby?”

“A baby?” He released her.

She nodded.

“Sure, I mean, I’d love to have a family as big as mine.” His smile returned.

“You would?” Her stomach twisted.

He nodded. “That means we’ve had more fun, which is great.”

“We can have fun without having children.”

“Yes, but lots of children means we really love each other, so we need to have at least as many as my mum did.”

“I only want one or two children.”

“Yes, but Mum says once you have a baby, you’ll want more. It’s only natural.”

She shook.

“Anyway, I’ve always wanted a baby, and you’ll make a good mum.” He answered.

“I will?” The tension left her body.

“You will. We’ll both be great parents.”

“You will make an excellent father.” There was a gleam in her eyes.

“I will, and Mum and Dad will also make outstanding grandparents." Ron's face lit up.

“My mum and dad will make amazing grandparents too.”

“Oh Merlin,” Ron groaned and put a hand on his head. “Do you have to bring every obnoxious person in my life tonight?”

“Excuse me?” She snapped.

“Your parents. They're obnoxious.”

"They are not obnoxious."

"They are towards me. The less I see them, the better."

“Like it or not, if we have a baby, they’ll be in that child’s life. Do you not think they will be outstanding grandparents despite your differences with them?” Hermione’s muscles tensed.

“I mean, I guess they’ll love the baby, but,” Ron moaned. “Your parents hate me, and I don’t like them either.”

“Ron,” she growled.

“What? Your dad spends half his time glaring at me, and your mum looks at me like I’m the biggest idiot alive.”

“Perhaps if you’d try to get to know them and stop getting drunk around them, they’d be more receptive to welcoming you into the family.”

“I’ve only been drunk around them a few times.”

“And during those few times you’ve either insulted them or smacked my bottom in front of them.”

“I thought you liked it when I did that.”

“No, I don’t, and neither do my parents.”

“Do you not like it when I smack your hot bottom, or do you think it’s too much for me to do it in front of your parents?”

She bit her tongue.

"See, I told you that you liked it."

She glared at him.

“It’s not my fault they’re boring, stuffy, and have nothing fun to do at their house other than the TV. Really, that TV is the only interesting thing about them.”

“What do you mean there’s nothing fun to do at their house?” Hermione snapped. “There are plenty of things to do other than TV, like playing board games or riding in their car to the store, or visiting the beach, or…”

“Nothing is fun without magic.”

Her mouth hung open.

“I’m sorry, but what is the point of chess if the pieces don’t talk?” Ron argued. “Why play a board game where the pieces don’t move on their own? Then there’s the food. Why would anyone was an eggplant parmesan not made with magic? The magic is what makes it taste good.”

“My mum’s eggplant parmesan tastes just fine without magic,” Hermione snapped. “It's my favorite food.”

"Are you saying it's better than the food my mum makes?"

"Yes."

He blinked as if she'd just announced Quidditch was a waste of time.

"I love my mother's cooking."

“Her food doesn’t taste right.” Ron rolled over. “I need magic to cook something, or else it just tastes weird. I also need interesting games and ways to get mail on the same day, like an owl. If I don’t have those, I’m bored.”

“So you don’t want to live without magic?”

“No, I never want to live without magic.” He threw his head back. “I don’t see how anyone could live without magic, no offense to how you grew up.”

“Much offense taken.”

Ron glowered at her.

“There is nothing wrong with being a muggle and living like muggles,” she argued.

“I know there isn’t anything wrong with being a muggle. I fought a war to prove that there is nothing wrong with being a muggle.”

“I sense a ‘but.’”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just wouldn’t want to live that way, or have my child of mine live that way.”

“You wouldn’t?” Her chest constricted.

“Okay, I want them to know about muggle technology and muggle things, and I want them to grow up tolerating muggles. If they like muggles, that’s great. I would like that too.”

“But?”

“But I don’t want to live like a muggle,” Ron argued. “That’s why I could never see myself dating a muggle. I don’t want to be like muggles.”

“What if we had a squib?” She asked.

Ron scoffed. “We won’t have a squib.”

“You can’t promise that,” she raised her voice.

“If we do, then we’ll figure it out. Really though, we won’t have a squib.”

“No.” She glanced out the window at her neighbor’s dark window, wishing Crookshanks was on her lap instead of his. “We won’t.”

“Why are you asking all this anyway?”

“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “After seeing Luna, I began thinking about our child, what they would look like, and what kind of life they would live.”

"Oh." He rolled over and met her eyes. “Do you want to have a child?”

“Not now, no.” She gulped. “But when we are ready to have a child, I know we’ll be great parents.”

“I’ll be an amazing father,” Ron answered. “And you’ll make a great mother.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a small smile.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about anything. When we have a child, it won’t be a squib, and we’ll love it. It’ll be a true Weasley.”

“Weasley-Granger.”

He snarled. “You’re still hung up on your last name?”

“Yes, I want to keep my last name." Her voice was controlled.

He rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look." Her muscles tightened. “I like my name.”

“I know you do, but it isn’t proper for a wife to keep her last name, not in the Wizarding World.”

“I’m part muggle.”

“I know, and you don’t understand why it’s improper in the Wizarding world. That’s fine, because someday you will.” He kissed her forehead.

“What do you mean I don’t understand these things?” She snapped.

“It means you don’t always understand wizarding customs…”

“And you don’t understand muggle customs!”

“I thought muggles understood keeping their husband’s name.”

“They do.”

“Then why don’t you be a reasonable person, respect everyone’s culture, and take my last name?" He asked.

She sat up and glowered at him. “I think you should go.”

“What?” His eyes grew.

“I think you should go home before we both say something we’ll regret later.”

“But I’m dressed for going to bed with you.”

“And you know how to apparate home with magic.”

“My toothbrush is still here.”

“Have you ever cared about that before?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Then grab your toothbrush and go!” She shouted.

Ron snarled before storming out of the bed. After storming into the bathroom and grabbing his toothbrush, he disappeared with a CRACK!

Hermione buried her head in her pillow, tears streaming down her face, praying that the image of a redheaded girl reaching out to her would never be a reality and fearing the child already existed.

Chapter Text

Severus hated shouting.

It didn’t matter what was being said or who was in the right. Shouting was violence. It always led to something being shattered: someone’s self-esteem, a sense of security, a vase, or, as he experienced so many times, a nose. Severus never wanted to hear another man yell at a woman.

Mr. Weasley did not share his aversion to shouting. Most nights, it's the only way he communicated. In turn, it was the only love language Hermione misunderstood.

He rolled over, his eyes refusing to close. His mind wandered to his childhood neighbors who found a way to sleep through the shouts and screams of Spinner's End. Best not to get involved with the town drunk, his weird wife, and his freakish son. Let the Snapes deal with their issues and pretend it's all okay.

His stomach clenched as his muscles tightened. All of them were the same. Every morning, Severus’ neighbors waved to him and smiled as if they cared, then sat back and listened as he got the shit kicked out of him the next night. His stomach knotted, and bile rose up his throat at the thought of how little anyone had ever cared for him. When he was seven, he’d vowed not to be like anyone in Cokeworth. Unlike them, he would kick an abuser’s arse if he ever heard a woman or her child being injured. Somehow, he would prove to everyone that he was a better man than any of them ever were.

Then he’d become a Death Eater, killed people, and broken every promise he'd ever made to himself.

He sat upright. While Weasley wouldn’t physically abuse Hermione, from what he could hear, Weasley was obliterating her self-esteem. She needed someone to show they cared for her by asking if she was well. Although Severus was inept at comforting women, she wouldn’t be alone with Mr. Weasley's words running through her mind. That was the most important thing right now.

Crookshanks let out a small protest as Severus moved his legs.

“You need to return home,” Severus grumbled as he stumbled towards his closet.

Crookshanks growled.

“No, we both need to leave.” He began changing into a black dress shirt and pants. “Hermione needs us now."

Crookshanks cocked his head.

"She doesn't need to hear someone complaining about orange hair all over his new black duvet in the morning. Thus, you must leave.”

Crookshanks meowed, as if to remind him that a few feline hairs had never been a problem before, despite Severus’ past grumblings.

He locked eyes with Crookshanks, or at least he thought he was looking into the feline’s eyes. “If you come with me, I will give you two pieces of salami when you next grace my door. If you are especially cooperative, I’ll throw in a piece of turkey.”

Crookshanks leapt from the bed and meowed. 

“Thank you.” Severus turned to the doorway and took a deep breath. He cast a Lumos, only to note that the light did nothing to make anything clearer.

Crookshanks began to purr before strolling down the hallway. Severus followed the sound. When the feline scratched at the front door, Severus fumbled for the doorknob and opened it. The purring resumed, guiding Severus forward. The forming dew on his feet told him what was grass and what was the stone of her porch. He said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d spent so much time barefoot as a child. Being without shoes did not bother him, a fact for which he was now grateful.

Once Severus reached the door, Crookshanks scratched upon it. Deciding he needed an excuse to visit Hermione other than worrying about her boyfriend's foul temper, Severus picked up Crookshanks. After adjusting him in his arms, he pounded on the door.

“Hermione!”

There was only a sob from the other side.

His heart grew cold as all the times his mother sounded like that came flooding back, and the way her eyes were dead when she insisted that she was fine. He swallowed back his emotions before calling in the gentlest voice possible, “Hermione, please open the door.”

“I will. Just give me a moment,” she replied.

He took a deep breath, wondering how much emotional support she needed. In his experience, Weasley wasn’t physically abusive. Then again, fights escalated all the time. Could this be the night he had one too many beers, lost his temper, and forced Hermione to be quiet by any means possible?

“Severus.” She opened the door. Even in the moonlight, he could see the stains of her tears on her cheeks and the white of her night robe. Still, there were no signs of bruises or scrapes, which allowed him to release the breath he’d been holding. “You brought Crookshanks home.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Your beast found his way into my house again and refused to leave. He was shedding all over my new black duvet, and I would appreciate it being free of unwanted orange decoration.”

“How can you say it’s new?” She sniffed. “Your duvet is over five years old.

“Considering I had my last one for twenty years, I would say this one is still new.”

“So it is.” She held out her arms. “Thank you for watching after Crookshanks and returning him to me.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Severus put the half-kneazle in her arms. “I don’t need a feline pinning me to the bed all night, making it impossible for me to roll over.”

Crookshanks glared at him before settling himself in Hermione’s arms.

“You.” She shook, “You didn’t just come here to return Crookshanks, did you?”

“That was one reason for coming over anyway.” He stood straighter. “I don’t want that feline in my bed.”

“Oh.”

“Still,” his voice was gentler, “if you would like to talk about your latest fight with Mr. Weasley, I am willing to listen.”

“Was our fight so loud we prevented you from sleeping?” She bowed her head in a way reminiscent of his mother when asked why she was so clumsy.

“I always struggle to sleep. That is not your fault."

She kept her head down.

"While I'm here though," his voice was tender, “Are you injured?”

“No,” her voice was stronger. “I’m fine, just a little shaken.”

“Did he break anything?” Severus’ magic crackled around him, prepared to return her bedroom to its former state.

“No,” she answered. “He wasn’t violent, just an arse.”

"So he didn't hit you?"

"No, he didn't lay a hand on me."

Severus kept his eyes on her. 

“I promise you, I’m fine physically. He’d never beat me. Nothing broke. All we did was yell at each other, like we always do," he argued.

“But he’s done something to you.”

“I mean, I’m shaken from everything. The fight was worse than our usual ones, but he didn't harm me.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“It’s nothing really. It’s all quite stupid, actually. It was stupid to bring up what I did to Ron, and I knew it.” Another tear fell as Crookshanks leapt from her arms.

“Nothing you bring up is stupid.”

“This was.”

“No, it wasn’t, and you know it.”

“Maybe not.” She shrugged. “You know how we are. He says something he doesn’t mean, I get upset, he tries to rile me up, and we fight so loudly that you think he’s harming me.”

“He is harming you,” Severus stepped forward. “Perhaps not physically, but he is harming you emotionally.”

“Look, I’m fine; it’s just...” She stepped back. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you certain?”

“I mean.” She took a shaky breath. “Do you want some tea?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

She glanced at his nose. “Your bruise is healing well. I barely notice it now.”

“Yes, the healer who treated me was quite skilled with a jar of cream. I shall have to recommend her to others in the future.” His lip twitched upwards.

She cracked a small smile. “Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me for being honest,” he replied.

Her voice was stronger. “You like black tea with sugar, right?”

“I like black tea, but don’t tell anyone I have any affection for sugar.”

“Duly noted.” Her voice now took on its usual, light tone. Then, she stepped away. In silence, he followed her.

“The whole argument with Ron was silly. Then again, most of our fights are. The whole notion is ridiculous. I should know that," she continued, the shakiness returning to her voice.

“It didn’t sound silly.”

She began collecting her supplies. “It’s just, I don’t know.”

“Hermione,” he was close to her. “What happened? What were you arguing about?”

She turned to him. The moonlight made her face even paler. “I think I might be pregnant.”

A chill raced down his spine at the thought of her tied to the arse for the rest of her life. "What makes you think that?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “My magic has been behaving oddly lately, almost as if I were pregnant.”

“And you told him.”

“No,” her voice cracked. “I was going to say something, but then we got to talking about muggles and muggle culture, and he made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with it. Then, I asked if he would love the child if it was a squib.”

Silence engulfed the room.

“I take it the answer wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” he replied.

“No,” she whispered, “it wasn’t.”

“He was an arse about the whole thing then.”

“Not an arse, just misinformed. He loves magic and can’t imagine living without it.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “He doesn’t want to accommodate a squib.”

“So his love for his potential child is conditional.”

“It would appear so.”

Severus’ throat constricted as every pureblood slur he’d ever made echoed throughout his brain. Even before becoming a Death Eater, he considered magic more desirable than anything muggle. Magic was his way out of his abusive situation. It could free him, then it must be all good, something he should never live without. He had no moral standing to criticize Ron.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do if I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

“Perhaps you don’t need to think about it.”

She met his eyes.

“You may not be pregnant. Magic can go awry for reasons other than pregnancy, such as stress or an illness," he argued. 

“I don’t feel sick, and until tonight I didn’t think I was stressed.”

“Yes, but if you don’t know whether or not you’re pregnant, then you could become stressed. The last thing you want is to lose sleep over something that is not a reality.”

“What if I am pregnant?” She trembled.

He stepped closer to her. “Then I’ll be here to give you whatever you need.”

She gulped.

“I know the spell to test if you are pregnant.” He put his hand on his wand. “I can cast it if you doubt your ability to do so.”

“How accurate is it?” She asked.

“One hundred percent.”

“Do I want to know how you learned it?”

“I was the head of a house of adolescents who were afraid of Madame Pomfrey reporting a pregnancy to their parents. Many of them saw me first with the hope I would maintain confidentiality.”

“I suppose you would need to be discreet about things.”

“Indeed.”

She stood straighter. “Go ahead and cast the spell. I may as well know whether I’m pregnant now rather than later.”

He hummed before putting his wand to her stomach. Then he intoned, “Aceasta femeie este insarcinata?”

Hermione whined as he ran his wand over her abdomen. The wand took on a yellow hue but did not change color. After two minutes, Hermione exhaled. “I’m not pregnant, am I?”

He glanced up as he relaxed. “No, you are not.”

“You’re positive I’m not?”

“I’m positive,” he ignored the CRACK in the background. “You are not pregnant. I cannot explain why your magic is behaving as it is, but it is not due to pregnancy.”

“Oh, thank God!” She rushed into his arms and held onto him as if he was the only thing tethering her to reality. Tears streamed down her face as he returned the embrace. “I was so scared I’d have to explain why I asked him those questions, or that I’d have to marry him, or that we couldn’t agree on the child’s name, or that he would never let my parents see their grandchild. I don’t want to have a child with him. I never want to have a child with him!”

Severus heard a creak from behind them but didn’t dare let Hermione go.

“Oh, thank you,” she cried. “I was so scared, but now I’m so relieved. I just needed to know everything was fine. I couldn’t have slept otherwise.”

"It was my pleasure to help."

"You've helped me more than you'll ever realize."

“What the hell are you doing?”

Hermione untangled herself from Severus and cowered. He stood between her and the intruder. In a low voice, Severus answered, “We were having tea.”

A suffocating silence ensued.

“Yes,” she choked. “It’s just tea, Ron. It’s nothing more.”

“You’re having tea at nine in the evening?”

“Why not? It is four o’clock somewhere,” Severus answered.

“You just think you’re so clever, don’t you?” The man’s magic began to coalesce in his arm.

Before he could cast the spell, Severus cast a shield. The hex bounced off the shield, leading to a crash and shattering glass.

“What the hell was that for?” Hermione shouted.

“He’s holding you when you’re my girlfriend!” Ron bellowed. “What do you think it was about?”

“There’s no reason to be jealous.”

“Not when he’s behaving like this and looking at you like that!”

“He’s my friend, and we were just talking.”

“Oh, and that’s why you had your arms around him.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Severus trying to comfort me after you spent all evening being an arse!” She yelled. “He wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t spent half the evening yelling at me!”

“You were yelling at me too!”

“Only because you started it!”

“What the hell is your problem?” Ron shouted. “All I said is I didn’t want a squib for a child, which, guess what? Nobody wants a squib! I have no idea what the hell your problem is with that!”

“I told you what my problem is!” She yelled. "I think it is a problem if you don't love a child unconditionally!"

“It’s a stupid problem because it isn’t going to happen!”

“Get out!” She approached him.

“No!” He stomped his foot.

Severus stood beside Hermione, paying attention to the magic in the air.

“Get out! I don’t want you here!” She yelled. 

“No!” He argued.

“Get out before I force you out!” Severus snapped.

Ron blinked.

Severus lowered his voice. “Hermione has told you to leave. Either you respect her wishes, or I will ensure you regret ever laying eyes on her.”

“Are you threatening me?” Ron demanded.

“I am explaining simple cause and effect,” Severus pointed his wand towards Ron. “Either vacate the premises, or I will force you to do so.”

Clunky footsteps left her house.

“Arse,” Severus muttered.

“He, he’ll get better,” Hermione was shaking. “He just needs to calm down and sober up. Everything will be fine then.”

“He needs to respect you.”

"He already does."

"Shouting at you is a sign of respect?"

“He’s just stressed.”

“Stress has little to do with what has occurred.”

“He’s just,” she exhaled and put her head in her hand. “Thank God I’m not pregnant. We are in no position to care for a baby.”

“Ron has made it quite clear he is in no position for a relationship, much less a child.”

She rubbed her arms. “I’ve never seen this side of him. I never thought he’d hex someone just because he hugged me.”

Severus turned to her and held out his hand. “Would you like to have tea time at my house?”

She was silent.

“Tea time can be as long as you’d like," he continued.

“As long as I’d like?” She took his hand.

“Yes.”

She relaxed. “Could I bring my toothbrush and a nightshirt?”

“You can bring a pillow if you’d like as well. The ones in my guest bedroom are quite firm, much firmer than many people care for.”

“Okay,” she squeezed his hand before releasing him. “I’ll be down in five minutes. Then we can have tea until I fall asleep in your guest bedroom.”

“Very well then.”

He heard her stroll down the hallway. Once she was out of earshot, he ran his fingers through his hair, his only source of comfort being that for one of the few times in his sorry life, he’d done the right thing.

Chapter Text

It was odd for Hermione to wake up and not know whether or not she was single. Granted, it was a relief to know she was not pregnant. That alone made the new day seem less daunting.

Sleep did not afford her as much of a reprieve as she had hoped. Instead of dark nothingness, she dreamed of strolling home with a lightness in her gait, a smile on her face, and an heirloom emerald ring on her finger. Despite never using the pet name in her life, she opened the door and called out, “Love, I’m home.”

“Hello, Love.” The voice that greeted her was low and silky. It sent a tidal wave of desire over her body. This silhouette was familiar, yet out of place. The man before her was taller and less pudgy than Ron. His presence commanded more attention than any other man ever had. Yet as he stepped towards her, she knew she was safe, cared for, and dare she say, loved?

"How has your day been?" He stood before her, his body still obscured by black.

"Very well." She raised her head.

She awoke before she could get a clear view of his face.

Hermione groaned, rubbed her eyes, and took note of the sunlight peeking through the bedroom curtains. She needed to leave before Severus awoke. If she was quiet, she could grab Crookshanks, write a quick thank-you note for his assistance, and sneak out undetected.

She trudged into the kitchen, only pausing to see Severus sitting at the table, a cup of tea in one hand and running his finger along a book. On his lap was an orange ball of fur, laid out in a way that let the world know he had no intention of leaving. Its purr could be heard from across the room, leading her to scowl.

Traitor.

“I was wondering if you were going to sleep the day away.” Severus slammed the book shut.

“That wouldn't be advisable.” She stretched her arms upwards. “I do have work after all.”

He set the book on the chair beside him. “Are you sure it’s advisable to return to work after what occurred last night?”

“I’m positive.” She stretched her arms in front of her, only to stop when she heard her back pop.

He raised an eyebrow as Crookshanks extended his front paws.

"I'll be fine." She rubbed her back."

“Are you certain? You were quite distressed last night. A day recuperating may be advisable."

“No, I should be back at work.”

He kept staring in her direction.

“Look, I need something to get my mind off of what happened between Ron and me.” She stood straighter. “If I spend my day helping people, I’ll forget about the fight and whatever is happening with my magic.”

“Does your magic feel odd today?” He petted Crookshanks.

Hermione pulled out her wand, pointed it to her right at one of Severus’ upper cupboards, and intoned, “Accio cup.”

For a few seconds, nothing occurred. Then, a cup flew into her hand.

“See.” She ignored the pit developing in her stomach. “It’s fine.”

Severus picked his wand up from the table, pointed it to his right, and called, “Accio cup.”

The cup went from her hand into his within an instant.

“I’m no healer,” Severus examined the cup. “But I do know that it didn’t feel like your magic grasped the cup as quickly as mine did.”

“Felt?”

“Yes.” He stroked Crookshanks' chin. “It seemed too long for your magic to take effect."

“Okay, but why did you feel that and not see it?”

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you say feel instead of see?"

He shrugged. "Felt is just the word that came to mind."

“Felt is an odd way of putting what you sensed…”

“It’s just a word,” he snapped. “Felt, saw, what is the difference?”

“Those are two different things.”

“We’re off topic.” He stilled his hand. “Your magic did not work as well as it usually does. That is the true issue at hand.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing but stress.” She approached the table. “Last night threw me for a loop. I’m stressed about the fight and Ron attacking you. I’ll be right as rain as soon as I'm able to distract myself.”

“Would that be before or after Ronald darkens your doorstep and announces he wants you back, only without your muggle parents in your life?”

“I...” She slumped into the chair across from him. “I don’t know.”

It took him a couple of seconds to shift his eyes in her direction.

She groaned and put her hands in her hair. “The last thing I need is for my parents to be involved in all this.”

“I’m sure they will support you in whatever way they can,” he answered.

“Or they’ll say, ‘I told you so.'” She pulled her hair.

“They are too kind for that.”

“No, but they’ll think it.” She tilted her head upwards and removed her hands from her hair.

“At least you’ll have some time to formulate what you want to say to them." 

“No, I won’t because they plan on coming sometime this evening.” Hermione wrapped her arms around her stomach. “They’re going to be thrilled that I had a fight with Ron.”

“Aren’t they always excited about the possibility of you expelling Mr. Weasley from your life?” Severus picked up his cup and took a sip of his tea.

“Sadly, yes. The sooner I dump the man my dad calls ‘redheaded idiot,’ the better for them.” She shook her head. “At least I don’t have to listen to Ron whine about them and complain about eating with people who can’t stand him. That’s one positive thing about the day.”

“Yes, their disdain towards him is odd given how polite he is towards them. He is always such a gentleman in calling them ‘old,’ ‘boring,’ ‘annoying,’ and ‘can’t we eat at the Burrow and forget to invite them?’”

She glared at Severus. “I’m going to get enough criticism from them. I don’t need you throwing in your two sickles as well.”

“Very well then,” he replied, “I will hold my peace then.”

“Though,” she tapped her fingers against the table. “I suppose if you want to come over and say hello to my parents, I would not be opposed to it.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

He took another sip of tea before putting his cup down.

“I want someone to distract my parents from the fact Ron won’t be there, or worse, that he will be there and will start saying some of the things he said earlier to them.” She swallowed the bile rushing up her throat at the thought of her parents listening to the rants on squibs and muggles.

“His diatribe shook you.” There was a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. “It was a side of him that you didn’t think existed.”

“Yes, I didn’t expect him to be so open about his hostility towards squibs and muggles,” Hermione’s voice was soft. “I knew he didn’t understand muggle culture, and I knew he wasn’t fond of squibs. He takes pride in who he is. Magic is a huge part of his identity. That’s understandable.”

“Oh yes, he’s so proud of flunking out of Auror school, not making the Chudley Cannons, and being fired from ten jobs before his brother took pity on him and hired him so he could do, well,” Severus locked eyes with her, “What does he do again?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “He stocks shelves.”

“Right,” he purred out the word. "He stocks shelves when he isn't taking breaks to guzzle beer."

“I know, he’s an underachiever who drinks too much on the job, but people shouldn’t judge him.” She sat up straighter. “He’s just going through a hard time.”

“Indeed, he’s been going through a hard time for the last seven years.”

“You.” She pointed to him. “You sound just like my dad.”

“Wilford is a sensible man. It is no insult to speak and think as he does.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I cannot and will not tell you what to do,” he continued. “All I know is that Ron didn’t care if he hurt you when he aimed his wand at my chest while I was embracing you.”

“It wasn’t quite like that.”

“Then what was it like?”

“It,” she closed her mouth as the rage and hardness in Ron’s eyes flashed before her. Even in the moonlight, his face was as red as his hair, and his blue eyes were hard as the Arctic ice. Her voice softened. “He wouldn’t physically hurt me.”

“How certain are you of that?”

“As certain as I can be of anything.”

He hummed and nodded.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She snapped.

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m making a mistake.”

“Are you?”

“What do you think?”

“If you want me to tell you that it’s wise to ignore your misgivings about Mr. Weasley and reunite with him, I refuse to do so.”

“I.” Her eyes fell on his nose. “Your nose looks better. The cream worked nicely on it.”

“Excellent change of subject.”

“That should give you an idea of how much I wish to stay on our current subject.”

“Point taken.” He picked up his teacup. “There is tea in the kettle and cereal in the upper left-hand cupboard.

“I didn’t come here to eat your food.”

“You may as well eat here,” he shrugged. “Half the time I don’t eat breakfast, so I may as well share so as to not waste food.”

Hermione’s stomach grumbled. Taking a deep breath, she stood. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” he replied. “I aim to be a gentleman.”

She huffed. “You're about as much a gentleman as Dr. House is.”

“Yes, but like him. I am quite perceptive.”

She stood. “I cannot believe you understood that reference.

“Why would you be so shocked?” His eyes looked in her direction but didn’t quite meet her face. “When I still lived at Spinner's End, I was quite the avid television watcher.”

“I can't blame you. I enjoy watching a nice show with my parents.”

“Indeed, though I cannot envision Mr. Weasley enjoying House.”

“No, he’d rather watch a football game.”

“Of course he would.”

“Indeed.” She strolled across the kitchen. “He claims watching people kick a ball around a field is the most exciting thing next to Quidditch.”

“He would not be alone in that assessment.”

“No, he would not.” She opened the cupboard and reached up for a box of Apple Jacks. Seeing she could not reach it, she pulled out a wand and called, “Accio Apple Jacks.”

Nothing occurred.

She scowled. “Accio Apple Jacks.”

It took five seconds, but the box flew into her right hand.

“You need to see someone about your magic,” he began.

She turned back to him and frowned. “I’m fine.”

“Your magic doesn’t seem fine.” Once again, he was looking to her left instead of at her.

“I told you,” she snapped. “I’m fine. I’m just stressed!”

“Is that something you want to stake your patients’ lives upon?” He locked eyes with her. “Do you want to put them at risk because your magic is delayed? Is it wise to perform a complex procedure when your magical reflexes are so dulled?"

She blinked before her stomach churned. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. The last thing she needed was to struggle to regain control of an errant spell or, worse, cast one herself and injure her patient.

“Perhaps I do need to take off work today,” she noted.

“That would be wise,” he answered.

“But I’m not going to see a healer.” She opened another cupboard and pulled out a bowl. “I just need a long weekend to rest. Once I rest, I’ll be fine.”

“That may be advisable.”

“I’ve never needed to rest my magic, though.” Her chest ached.

“There is a first time for everything.”

“Perhaps.” She poured herself the cereal.

Severus coughed. “If you need to rest here until your parents come, you may do so.”

“No, I need to be home.” She gave Crookshanks a pointed look as she pulled out a spoon from a drawer. “Cuddling with my own feline.”

Crookshanks yawned before wrapping his paws around the edge of Severus’ thigh.

“I fear he will not move.” Severus winced and moved his legs. “I have been trying to remove him from my person all morning. He is bound and determined to ruin my best robes with his fur.”

She examined him before opening the refrigerator and grabbing a carton of milk. “Those are not your best robes.”

“How would you know?”

“Because they aren’t as dark as your best robes.”

“They aren’t?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“No.” She poured the milk into the cereal. “Those are lighter than the robes you consider to be your best.”

“Well, they may as well be my best. All my robes look the same anyway.” He took another sip of his tea.

“Perhaps you should see a healer about your falls and the fact that you can’t distinguish between light and dark black robes.” She returned the milk to the refrigerator.

“That won’t be necessary. Some mornings I am more in a hurry than others, so I stumble or put on the wrong clothes.”

“You fall in the evenings too.” She walked to the table with her cereal bowl.

“That is because the lighting is terrible in this house, and I am too stubborn to cast a Lumos.”

“Yes, it’s a wonder anyone can see anything with these dark walls.”

“Indeed,” he relaxed.

“Still,” her voice was softer. “You should get yourself checked out, just to ensure you are well.”

“I am as well as I’ve ever been.”

“Knowing the kind of pressures you’ve been under in your life and how you responded to them, that means nothing.”

“Perhaps not.”

Hermione took a bite of her cereal.

“How is your cereal?” He asked.

“Nice.” She grinned as the sugary sweetness filled her senses. “I haven’t had cereal in ages, so I appreciate eating it.”

“It’s easier to make than pancakes anyway.”

“You make those?”

"Indeed." His lips curled upwards. “I make exceptional pancakes.”

“Oh.” She raised her spoon again. “I make decent pancakes, though not as great as the ones my mother makes.”

“Who do you think gave me my recipe?”

Hermione cocked her head.

“Your mother and I were discussing recipes a few months after you moved next door, and I told her how it seemed that I always burned my pancakes. She gave me some pointers that proved quite helpful.”

“I hope you thanked her.”

“I thanked her with the biggest pancake breakfast I could muster.”

“I’m sure she appreciated that.”

“She did.”

Hermione hummed before taking another bite.

“Are you truly fine with me coming over in the evening and seeing your parents?” He asked.

“If they found out you gave me a safe place when I was at a low point yet I didn’t offer you any food, they would both disinherit me.”

“For the sake of your financial security then, I will attend dinner.”

“Thank you for being so gracious.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to do so.”

Crookshanks purred louder as Hermione smiled. Perhaps Severus still wasn’t quite meeting her eyes, but he was at the table with her. Somehow, the potions master had become her neighbor and friend.

That alone eased the stresses of the day.

Chapter Text

Hermione didn’t know relaxation could be so stressful. Every time she opened a romance novel to distract herself from dwelling on what had occurred the night before, the fight with Ron replayed in her mind. Once she expelled him from her mind, she would meditate on her health, her mind racing with questions, the biggest one being why her magic was misfiring. After her third book failed to capture her interest, she pondered researching her condition. Something in her medical books had to provide some insight. Yet there were drawbacks to research. If she gave herself the wrong self-diagnosis, she may begin fretting over nothing. The last thing she needed was to be a patient who was convinced she was dying when she was suffering from nothing more than a stubbed toe.

Most magical issues were tied to stress. Yes, she was stressed about her patients, Ron, her parents’ disapproval of him, and her pregnancy scare. This was nothing more than that.

Or so she hoped.

Frustrated with her lack of relaxation, she turned to her window. Her favorite neighbor stood outside. She watched him raise his arm, noting that he was not holding anything.

CRACK!

She cocked her head. As far as she knew, Severus only left his house to deliver his potions, which would entail that he was holding something. Yet, he was not. Where else could he have gone? His kitchen was well-stocked, so it was unlikely he went grocery shopping. Was he going to see a friend? Did he have friends other than her? If so, why had he never told her about them? Why did they never visit him?

Better question: why the hell did she care about Severus’ whereabouts?

She lay on her couch and extended her arms. If he was going grocery shopping or seeing a mutual acquaintance, she wished he would’ve taken her with him. It would’ve gotten her mind off the stress of relaxation.

With a huff, she picked up her copy of The Winter’s Tale. Was she turning into her Aunt Nancy by keeping track of everyone in the neighborhood? Why did it matter where he went? When he returned, could she return to his house so she had someone to help take her mind off the intrusive thoughts and memories assaulting her?

After opening another book, she began to reread page 24, as she had four times today. Her potential health problems and the urge to research magical core deterioration nagged at her. One thought continued to run through her mind, though.

What if she didn’t want to know about her diagnosis?

She sat up straight. Her stomach churned at the questions flooding her brain. Did she have cancer? Did she have a congenital abnormality that would lead to a premature death? Did she want to know what she had?

How sick was she, or was she just stressed?

CRACK!

Was Severus already home? She glanced at the clock. No, it had only been five minutes. Still, she hoped he’d come home soon, if only to talk to someone about the fears plaguing her.

Could there be a genetic condition she didn’t know about? If so, would her parents know what could be wrong? No, they would have no idea if anything was wrong with their magic. Besides, it would be too stressful to have a daughter who didn't know what was wrong with her. How could she break the news of her health scare to them, that she didn’t know whether she was sick or not, or if it was an illness they could develop as well?

A pounding on the door interrupted her musings.

“‘Mione! Open up! We need to talk!”

Taking a deep breath, she set the book on the oak coffee table and strolled to the front door.

“Hello.” She gulped. How could someone she thought would be her fiancé now be someone she didn’t know if she ever wanted to see again?

“Hi.” Ron glanced down and dug his foot into the ground. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She stepped backward, wondering if this was a wise course of action.

He put his hands behind his back before entering. She closed the door behind her as her throat constricted. His hair was tousled and his eyes were sunken. It was as though he had spent more time tossing and turning than sleeping.

“I, uh—" He looked up. “How are you?”

“Not fine,” her voice was soft.

“Me neither.”

An oppressive silence fell between them. Hermione bit her lip, wondering if she was supposed to offer him tea in the same kitchen where he’d threatened to harm Severus or if she should ask him to leave until she could sort out her feelings about everything that had occurred.

“Look.” He put a hand on his head. “I’m sorry about fighting with Snape. I shouldn’t have threatened the greasy git.”

Her frown deepened. “Calling him names lessens the impact of your apology.”

“But that’s what he is.”

“He’s my friend, and you’ll speak about him with respect.”

“He was hanging onto you.”

"He was asking me how I was after he heard us yelling at each other.”

"Was that it?"

"Yes! Now if you only came to yell about Severus," she pointed to the door. "You may leave."

“No, I mean, I don't want to, I mean, I’m trying to say that I’m sorry.” He met her eyes. “You know I’m terrible at these apologies. I hate making them, something you know.”

“I know." She lowered her arm. "But they’re necessary in a relationship.”

“In other words, I should make all of the apologies while you don’t say sorry for anything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her muscles tensed.

“It means you aren’t perfect either.”

“I never claimed to be.”

“But you never acknowledge when you’ve done something wrong.”

“That isn’t true, and you know it.”

“Then why were you hugging Snape when I’m your boyfriend?” Ron clenched his jaw. “Why was he here less than an hour after I’d left?”

“I told you, he heard us fighting and wanted to know what had occurred," she argued.

“So you fell into his arms?”

“It was a friendly hug. I swear it was just a hug.”

“Just a friendly hug?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “He’s my next-door neighbor, and he wanted to know if I was okay. I was shaken up from our fight, so I embraced him.”

“And that’s all that happened?” Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes!”

Ron blinked.

Hermione wiped her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t yell at you. I yell at you too much. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t yell at you either.” Ron slouched. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard with you sometimes. One minute we’re fine, and the next we’re at each other’s throats.”

“We’ve always been that way.”.

“Yes, and it’s fun.” He shook his head. “Until it isn’t.”

“Agreed.” Her posture was no longer straight.

For one long moment, they stared at each other.

Ron’s voice was almost so soft she couldn’t hear it. “W-why did you want to talk about babies last night?”

She shrugged. “I was just curious where you stood on having children.”

“I know, but why? You’ve never taken an interest in them before.”

“I'm not interested in them. I just, you know, get to thinking about them.”

“Why? Are you pregnant?” There was a glimmer of something that could’ve been considered hope.

“No,” her voice was soft. “I'm not pregnant."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm very certain."

“Oh.”

“But I saw Luna and how happy Harry is with her. Then I saw your other siblings and their children. I got caught up in it all and wondered what it would be like if we had a child."

He twisted his lips.

“Did you want me to be pregnant?” She whispered.

He wrung his hands together. “I would love to have a child with you.”

“Someday I would love to have a child with you too.” She shook. “But I’m not ready now.”

“Why not?”

“We can’t agree on how to raise them, especially in light of how you feel about muggle culture and my parents.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what role I want your parents to play in our child’s life.”

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “My parents will play a huge role in our child’s life.”

“Yes, but our baby will be magical, which means they should have more influences who are magical," he argued.

“So they shouldn’t have muggles in their life?”

“They shouldn’t be made to feel bad about who they are.”

“My parents wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure? Because they don’t seem to like my family or me. I think it’s because we can do more than they can do because they’re magical.”

“What if our child isn’t magical? What would you say then?”

“Why do you keep coming back to that?” Ron’s frown deepened.

“I.” She twisted her foot. “I read an article about squibs the other day, and the whole thing got me thinking about them and what I would do if my child was a squib.”

“Hermione.” He took her hands. “We are two magical wizards. The more powerful the wizard, the more powerful the child. That’s basic genetics.”

“That doesn’t always happen.”

“Yes, but we’re special. We’re soulmates, meant to be together.” He kissed her lips.

She relaxed as she held him closer. This felt right. Even if they fought, their reconciliations felt right. Everything about them felt right.

Things were so right for them she didn’t notice the CRACK from next door.

He broke away from her. “I have something for you.”

“You do.” Her lips curled upwards.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular black box. She gasped. Then he opened it, revealing a Quidditch card.

“This is my favorite Quidditch card,” he began.

“So it is.” She took it and examined it.

“When we had our fight, I called Harry. He said that if I gave you something valuable, you’d appreciate it.”

“So you gave me this.” She examined the card, taking note that this player was a seeker for the Chudley Cannons back in the 1920s. Parts of the cards were creased, but the picture was still clear.

“Yes.”

Her smile grew.

“Do you like it?” His eyes glistened.

She returned her attention to him. His expression was full of hope, eager to see her positive reaction. She relaxed.

“I love it because I love you.”

“Great!” He pressed her against his chest. “Does this mean we aren’t fighting anymore?”

“No.” She smiled. “I think we’ve officially reconciled.”

“Good,” he exhaled. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don't know what I'd do without you either."

Once again, their lips met. The tension left Hermione’s muscles as she enjoyed the sensation of her body against his. She was in the arms of the man she loved more than she’d ever loved anyone else, the one she wished to stay with regardless of the cost to herself.

“Are we, uh, interrupting something?”

Hermione turned backwards, her stomach sinking at the pale faces of the two people at her door. She gulped and squeaked, “Hello, Mum, Dad.”

“Yes.” Her father cleared his throat. “Hello.”

“Hi, Wilford,” Ron glared at her father, then her mother. “Muriel.”

“Hello.” Muriel crossed her arms over her chest.

“Am I late?”

Everyone turned to the man standing in the backyard with a bottle of red wine in his hand.

“No.” Wilford’s lips curled upwards in an expression Hermione knew not to trust. “You’re right on time.”

Chapter Text

Hermione’s stomach sank as Severus took a few uncertain steps towards the front door. His hand gripped the wine bottle tighter, as if one wrong move would cause it to shatter upon the ground. She wondered how many times he'd approached Voldemort like this, knowing he would not escape their nteraction unscathed.

“Hello Severus,” Hermione put her hands behind her back and dug her foot into the carpet.

“Hello,” Severus reached the place where they were standing and stopped.

Wilford patted Severus on the back. “How are you doing?”

“Very well.” Severus regained his bearing after startling. “Your daughter was kind enough to invite me for dinner. It would have been impolite to refuse, especially since my only dinner plans were a box of General Tso’s chicken and a few egg rolls.”

“It’s impolite to go somewhere where you aren't wanted,” Ron snapped.

Severus looked at Ron the same way he had when he was a student. "I know English is not your strongest subject, but I suspect you can understand the basic connotation of words, namely that being invited somewhere means your presence is wanted."

"Not everyone wants you here, namely me."

“If Hermione invited him to her house, then he’s welcome whether you think he should be or not,” Wilford argued.

“With all due respect, I come over here enough that it might as well be my house,” Ron growled.

“But your name isn’t on the deed,” Wilford whispered his next words, “thank God.”

“If my presence is causing too much strife, I can take my leave.” Severus held the bottle of wine in Muriel’s direction. “I will donate my wine and order my Chinese takeout.”

“Nonsense,” Muriel accepted the wine. “If Hermione invited you to dine with us, then you must dine with us.”

“He wasn’t invited by me,” Ron argued.

“But I did invite him.” Hermione’s hands fidgeted.

Ron glared at her as if she’d just announced she hated his favorite Quidditch card. “Why do you want him around?”

“Because he’s my next-door neighbor, and he can’t live on fast food,” she argued. “He needs to eat healthier, which requires him to eat a few home-cooked meals. I'm more than willing to give him one."”

“I appreciate the consideration for my health,” Severus answered. “Still, if my presence will cause drama…”

“Your lack of presence is going to cause drama if you leave because someone who can’t even be bothered to cook for his girlfriend says you cannot enter the house.” There was more than a hint of warning in Wilford’s voice.

“Dad’s right,” Hermione gestured for everyone to come inside. “Please come in, Severus.”

“‘Mione,” Ron hissed.

She hissed into his ear, “Listen, if you don’t want my dad to crawl all over your ass all night, then you should give him someone he can talk to. The more time he spends talking to Severus, the less time he will spend directly criticizing you.”

Ron hummed before grounding out, “Fine, Severus can come in.”

“How polite of you to allow a person my daughter invited to dinner into her house,” Wilford growled.

Ron rolled his eyes.

“So Severus.” The spark in Wilford’s eyes returned. “Muriel and I decided to play Katy Lied at the office a few days ago.”

“You did?” Severus stepped through the door.

“Yes,” Muriel closed the door behind her. “It was the best musical advice we’ve received in a long time. We forgot how much we liked Rose Darling and Black Friday. The patients enjoyed the album as well.”

“Daddy Don’t Live In That New York City Anymore was my favorite song, though.” Wilford strolled to the sitting room.

“I’ve never been to New York,” Ron cut in as he followed Severus and Wilford.

Wilford glanced back and looked at Ron as if he were a fly he could not swat. “So you haven’t.”

“I think New York is overrated,” Ron continued. “It’s too crowded, and I hear they like some team called the Yankees. That name is dumb. I mean, what is a Yankee? It’s so stupid. The whole city sounds really boring.”

“If you enjoy Quidditch and not real sports like baseball and rugby, then yes, I suppose it’s quite boring.” Wilford sat on the sofa beside Severus.

“Yes, and I don’t get what’s so great about the skyscrapers.” Ron sat on the chair nearby. “All they do is get in the way of flying on brooms.”

“The jets seem to do just fine getting around the buildings,” Severus argued.

Ron stared at him with a vacant expression.

“Jets,” Wilford spoke to Ron as if he were a toddler. “I believe you call them those flying tin cans everyone gets crammed into.”

“Oh yeah, those things.” Ron snorted. “I don’t know how you muggles do it. It all sounds so horrible.”

Wilford opened his mouth.

"Personally, I think all of you need to experience flying on a broom,” Ron continued. “You’d see how cramped jets are then.”

“And if you could fly without a broom, you’d realize how unstable sitting on a stick actually is,” Severus noted.

"Oh, like you can fly without one."

"I can, and I do, quite often."

"Oh yeah," Ron drawled. "I forgot you could do that. It sounds hard."

“It is difficult, but with some magic, the skill can be mastered. Then again, that would require effort, effort I haven’t seen you expend on anything other than stuffing your face as full as you can until you pass out at the table.”

Wilford couldn’t suppress a snicker as Ron paled.

“Anyway,” Wilford returned his attention to Severus. “It was interesting to hear Michael McDonald’s earliest recordings.”

“Yes, everyone forgets he began as a background singer for Steely Dan,” Severus replied.

“Where did they get the name Steely Dan from?” Ron cut in.

Severus and Wilford glanced at him with wide eyes.

Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands.

“What’s a Steely Dan?” Ron demanded. “The name sounds weird. What is it?”

Wilford and Severus turned to each other.

Muriel put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “You said you wanted to make teriyaki chicken stir fry?”

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen and begin?” Muriel answered.

Hermione glanced at Severus and Wilford, who were engaged in a staring contest, the loser winning the chance to explain what a Steely Dan was to Ron.

“Yes,” Hermione glanced at her mother. “Let’s go.”

***

“Sweetie?”

Hermione glanced up from stirring the chicken.

“Why did Severus seem surprised that Ron was here?” Muriel asked in a gentle voice.

“He was surprised?” Hermione’s muscles tensed.

“Yes,” Muriel answered. “I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t expecting to see your boyfriend. He seemed to be under the impression it would just be him and us. Why did he look so eager to leave once he saw Ron?”

“I.” She examined her mother. Part of her wanted to spin a tale, tell her that inviting Severus was an impulse and she’d forgotten to mention that Ron would be present. Still, if her mother had figured out Ron’s presence was somewhat unexpected, it was only a matter of time before her father did too. Once that occurred, it was unclear how much time he would spend demanding Hermione find a more worthy boyfriend, time she didn't want to spend tonight. “Last night, I had a fight with Ron.”

“Another one?”

Hermione’s chest ached at the lack of surprise in her mother’s voice. From the other room, Severus and Wilford laughed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Muriel asked.

“No, it was nothing, nothing at all.”

“From the look on your face, it doesn't seem to be about nothing.”

“Yes, but the fight was over something stupid.”

“What was it over?”

Her throat tightened. “I don’t think Ron likes you and Dad.”

From the look in Muriel’s eyes, it was clear the feeling was mutual.

“And I thought it was just because Dad didn't think he was good enough for me, but.” She resumed stirring the chicken. “Ron doesn’t understand muggles and doesn’t want to make any real attempt to do so.”

Muriel's voice was lower. “I thought you said he was tolerant of muggles.”

“He does like muggles,” Hermione turned to her mother. “But he doesn’t understand you or your culture. That isn’t a big deal now, but if we were to have children, it would be.”

“Children?” Muriel’s eyes grew.

Hermione stirred the chicken as tears threatened to boil over.

“I thought you weren’t ready for children.”

“I’m not,” Hermione replied in a quick voice. “I’m nowhere near ready for a child.”

“But he is.”

“No, we hadn’t discussed it, at least not officially."

"What do you mean, officially?"

Hermione shook. “I had a pregnancy scare last night. Severus administered the test and found out I was not pregnant. He helped me sort out my emotions about everything and calmed me down. That’s why I invited him here: I wanted to thank him for being there for me.”

“You thought you were pregnant with Ron’s child, so you turned to Severus?”

“Yes”

Muriel hummed and scratched her chin.

“Again, I’m not pregnant, which is a relief." Hermione's words came out faster than expected.

“It’s a relief to hear, if only because I don’t want you to have a child until you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready now. Still, I think about a future with Ron, and everything seems so right, so perfect…”

“Except you turned to another man when you had a pregnancy scare.”

"It wasn't exactly like that?"

"Then what was it like? Why did you want to discuss a potential pregnancy with Severus and not Ron?"

“It was a moment of desperation.”

“One in which you turned to Severus, not Ron, for comfort.”

“It wasn’t like that. I was just nervous about my life changing so drastically. Everything is going so well right now. I don’t want anything to mess it up.”

“Are you afraid your relationship with Severus will?”

“No,” her voice was stronger and more sincere than it had ever been. “He’s one of the few areas of my life which isn’t causing me drama, which gives me any kind of peace. Sure, he gets injured more than he should, but that’s his issue, not mine.”

“He gets injured?”

“Yes, he has these falls. They’re getting more frequent. I tell him to see someone about them, but he won’t listen to me.”

“But you care enough to look out for him.” Muriel’s eyes softened.

“I do,” Hermione answered. “He’s one of the few friends who I know is on my side regardless of what else is going on in my life. He looks out for my best interests and doesn't care about anyone else's, including Ron's. It’s nice to have that kind of assurance in my life.”

“I would imagine so.” There was a gleam in Muriel’s eyes.

“Anyway, I don’t want anything to go wrong. I want…”

Flames erupted from the stove. Hermione screamed as Muriel leapt away. The flames grew higher, engulfing the food and the pan. Before Hermione could consider what had occurred, she heard footsteps and felt water on her face. Then, the stove hissed into silence.

“Are you injured?” Severus asked, water still flowing from his wand onto the stove.

“I’m fine,” she wiped the water from her eyes.

“What happened?” Wilford asked.

“Oh, I must have turned a knob the wrong way.” Hermione forced herself to grin as she pulled out her wand. After casting a drying spell twice, she was no longer wet.

“Geesh, ‘Mione, I knew you needed help learning to cook, but I didn’t think Mum needed to teach you how to use the oven,” Ron smiled much too widely for someone whose girlfriend had almost burned down the house.

“I’m just a little clumsy, that’s all.” She forced herself to match his expression.

“Are you sure that’s all that happened?” Wilford asked as water stopped coming from Severus’ wand.

“I’m positive.”

Everyone continued to stare at her.

“I’m fine,” she argued louder. “Everything is fine! It’s perfect! Everything is perfectly fine!”

Hermione took a deep breath as everyone’s eyes remained on her. While Muriel's and Ron’s eyes were wide, Severus' expression told her he wasn't going to drop this anytime soon.

“Okay,” Wilford drawled.

Severus cleared his throat. “I know that you invited me because you believe I eat too much takeout, but over the last few years, I have become quite proficient in ordering pizza. Would you like me to do the honors?”

“Yes.” Hermione exhaled. “If you could please order a pizza. I can pay for it.”

“I have no issue paying for it,” Severus answered. 

“You don’t need to pay for the pizza.” Wilford pulled out his wallet. “If you can exchange my money for galleons or whatever all of you use, I can pay for it.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.” Wilford began pulling out Australian dollars. “How much does a supreme pizza cost?”

“Dad.” Hermione stepped closer. “You don’t need to pay for anything.”

“Of course I do,” Wilford answered.

“You’re the guest, though.”

“Yes, but it’s a father’s prerogative to spoil his daughter every once in a while.”

“Dad…”

“Oh, let him pay for the pizza,” Ron whined. “It’ll save us some money.”

Hermione groaned.

“A supreme pizza costs two galleons.” Severus reached into his pants pocket and began pulling out coins.

“Okay, I think I remember how much a galleon is,” Wilford began examining his bills.

“I want extra pepperoni,” Ron demanded.

“I don’t want pepperoni,” Muriel argued. “It gives me heartburn.”

“Then take them off," Ron whined. "It isn't that hard."

“Mum isn’t taking the pepperonis off,” Hermione argued. “That pulls off half the other toppings. We just won't order a pizza with pepperoni.”

“But I want pepperonis.”

“Then pay for the pizza,” Severus argued.

“No," Ron argued.

“Then you won’t have extra pepperoni,” Severus replied as he put the galleons into Wilford’s hands.

“Fine.” Ron huffed as Wilford handed Severus the dollars.

Muriel rubbed Hermione’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help me clean up?”

“Great idea,” Hermione answered as her chest constricted.

“So do you order a pizza with the Patronus?” Wilford asked.

“I do.” Severus stepped into the other room and continued, “Expecto Patronum.”

Hermione reached for a pot holder so she could safely pick up the pan.

Ron burst out laughing from the other room. “Oh my God! That’s so stupid! I can't believe you're that stupid!”

“What?” Hermione rushed out of the kitchen into the sitting room.

Severus gritted his teeth together at the wispy animal on the ground. Instead of a majestic doe, it was a small mole.

Scowling, Severus thrust the money into the mole’s mouth, told it to go to Guiliana’s Pizza, and sent it on his way.

“You’ve really fallen if your Patronus is a mole,” Ron gasped for air. “I mean, a doe was pathetic because you were still panting after Lily, but a mole? Who has a mole as a Patronus?”

Severus was gripping his wand so hard it was a wonder it didn’t snap in two.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Wilford snapped.

Ron stopped laughing.

“My God, do you ever tire of being an absolute prick?” Wilford argued. “Severus buys pizza for you, and all you can do is whine about pepperonis and insult him.”

“It isn’t my fault Severus is here when he shouldn’t be.”

"He was invited here."

"Not by me."

“Shut up! Everyone just needs to shut up!”

Everyone turned to Hermione.

“All Dad and Ron have done since coming in the door is bicker! I’m sick of it. Both of you just shut up!”

Before anyone could say anything else, Hermione raced into her room, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, one terrifying thought racing through her mind:

Things weren’t perfect.

Chapter Text

What the hell is wrong with me?

Tears streamed down Hermione’s cheeks as she gasped for air. Why couldn’t those she loved the most sit and dine together in peace? All she wanted was for her parents to accept Ron, for Ron to accept Severus, and for Severus to feel welcome. Why was any of that impossible to accomplish?

Why couldn’t Ron behave like a supportive boyfriend for once? Granted, his argument with Severus was her fault. She should’ve taken into account that she and Ron would reconcile, as they always did. Really, she had no idea why she didn’t think they would. They lived to fight and make up. Good Merlin, what was she thinking in inviting Severus when in her heart she knew Ron would return to her and it would be as if nothing had ever occurred?

Before she could sink too deeply into her depression, there was a crash in front of her door. A string of curses in a soothing, silky voice followed. Hermione shook, wondering how badly he'd injured himself and if Ron would complain the entire time she was healing him.

“Hermione?”

Hermione wiped her nose with her arm and choked out, “I’m coming.”

She heard shuffling in the hallway, as if someone was trying, and struggling, to stand.

With a shaky breath, she opened the door. Suspecting the answer, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Severus stood.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Only my pride is wounded.”

“So it is,” Hermione muttered, making a note to keep him in her house until she could determine where he'd been bruised and how serious his injuries were.

He ran his hands along his coat. “I wanted to bid you farewell before I left.”

“You're leaving?”

“Yes, I must take my leave now.”

“Why? Do you have plans?”

“No, but it’s clear I’m not welcome here.”

“Nonsense, you are welcome here. I want you here,” her voice was softer, “I need you here.”

"Why?"

"Because I just do. I need you to stay here." 

“Again, I must ask why? Since the moment I've entered, all I’ve done is cause trouble,” he backed away.

“No, everyone else caused problems. You were just trying to help me keep my father and Ron from getting into a shouting match.”

“And I failed. Hence, I should leave.”

She grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

He leapt at her touch as his eyes widened.

“Please, you were invited, and you were the only one other than my mother who was not being an arse. For once, you weren’t the rudest person in the room.”

“What do you mean, ‘for once?’”

“You have to admit your manners often leave a lot to be desired. Many times, you can be abrupt and lacking in tact.”

“My tact is impeccable.” He took a slow, shaky step towards her. “I am always honest. If people cannot accept that, that is their problem, not mine.”

“You are honest.” Hermione’s hand traveled down his arm towards his hand.

“As for manners, I am an expert in them.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I went to a pureblood manners school the summer after I graduated Hogwarts. Thanks to the finest teachers Lucius could afford, I am well-versed in how to behave in wizarding society.”

“I didn’t know that.” She clasped his hand.

“It is true.” He relaxed. “It’s where I learned to dance, which was fortunate for Hogwarts. Most of the Slytherins would’ve been hopeless without me.”

“I’m sure they would be.” She rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand, noting how soft his skin was. The aroma of his cologne grounded her, sending a warmth through her she only felt when near him.

“That being said,” Severus swallowed. “I did want to ask for a favor before I left, if it isn’t too intrusive.”

“You aren’t leaving.”

"Yes, I am."

"No, you aren't. I won't let you leave."

“How do you intend to stop me?”

She hummed and tilted her head upwards. “I can always prevent Crookshanks from gracing your doorstep.”

“Why tempt me to leave with the possibility of orange fur-free robes?”

“Because I see you through my window sometimes. On some winter evenings, you are smiling as he sits on your lap.”

“I am incapable of smiling.” He scowled, though there was no hostility in his eyes.

“That isn’t true, and you know it.” The tension in her muscles eased. “You smile around me.”

“Remind me to cease that behavior at once. People may think I am capable of pleasure. That misconception should never circulate.”

“I will if you agree to stay.”

He hummed and twisted his lips.

“If you do not stay, I will owl Rita Skeeter and tell her you are capable of pleasure. The article will be on the front page of The Evening Prophet," she warned.

“If you do that, I will tell her that you visit your parents in order to buy the trashiest muggle romance stories available.”

“If you do that, I will show her your collection of trashy romance novels.”

His eyes grew. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would if you don’t leave." Her eyes glistened.

“Merlin woman, I’d have no choice but to stay with you the rest of my life if that is the consequence for abandoning you.”

She covered her mouth with her free hand and laughed at the spark in his eye.

“There you go.” His voice was soft. “It’s a joy to hear you laugh.”

“Thank you for making me laugh.” Her lips curled upwards.

“It is my pleasure.”

“See, there you go feeling pleasure again.”

“Merlin woman, you are impossible to deal with.”

She burst out laughing again.

After a few chuckles, Severus cleared his throat. The light in his eyes died. “That being said, I need to ask you for that favor.”

Hermione nodded before leading him into her room. Then, she released his hand and shut the door behind her. “What do you need?”

“It’s not what I need, but what you need.”

She sighed. “I need peace.”

“No, you need to see a healer about your slowed magical reflexes.” His voice was as matter-of-fact as it had been when he was a professor.

“I told you, it’s just stress…”

“How certain are you of that?”

“I’m fairly certain of that.”

“Are you certain enough to endanger everyone’s lives as you did today?”

She closed her mouth.

“Had I not been there to extinguish the fire, the whole house could have burned down,” he argued.

“Yes, well.” She jutted her chin. “If you would see someone about your falling spells, you wouldn’t be developing a bruise on your cheek.”

“There is no need to fear for me.”

“I disagree,” she argued. “Your bumping into things and bruising yourself.”

“I have my condition under control.”

“Really? Because it appears to be anything but under control.”

“Unlike you, I know what ails me.”

“You do?” She raised an eyebrow.

His eyes betrayed his vulnerability, as did his slight slouch.

“What is wrong with you?” Her voice was soft. “And are you getting treatment for it?”

“None of that is relevant to our previous discussion.” He gave her his best professor voice, the hardness returning to his eyes.

“I think it is,” she argued. “You’re asking me to do something you won’t do.”

“No, I did seek out treatment for what ails me.”

“And it isn’t working?”

“No.”

“Then try something different,” her voice grew louder. “Try something that will work until you stop crashing into things.”

“Believe it or not, magic cannot perform miracles,” his voice remained even.

“True, but you’re a potions master. You can think of something to stop your falls.”

“We are off topic,” his voice warned her not to press the issue any further.

She swallowed and stepped back.

“Over the last few days, your magic has been lessening," he continued.

“It’s just stress. Once I relax, everything will be fine again.”

“Are you willing to bet my life on it? Because I’m not.”

She folded her hands and shifted her feet.

“If your house burns down, mine is beside it.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I’d rather not relocate or get burned because you were too stubborn to get help and destroyed your oven.”

“Stubborn?” She frowned. “What makes you think seeking help is an option for me?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“If I admit to one of my colleagues that I’m having difficulty with magic, I will be suspended from my job.”

“Should you be working in this condition?”

“No, I mean certainly not, I mean.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He took a tentative step towards her.

“You’re right. I can’t do my job like this. Still, I don’t know who to turn to and still keep my job. I want to believe it’s all just stress, but,” she locked eyes with him, “wanting something to be so and making it so are two different things.”

“Indeed they are.” His focus was not on her, despite her looking into his eyes. Instead, his gaze was shifted somewhat to her left.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m more scared than I’ve been since Voldemort died.”

“I know,” his voice was the most tender she’d ever heard it.

“I don’t know where to go, though. My colleagues won’t understand this.”

“You could always see Draco.”

“Draco?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Draco.”

“But he specializes in dark magic.”

“I know.”

“Do you suspect this is dark magic?”

“I don’t know what it is,” he admitted. “Given everything you’ve been through during the war, it would not hurt you to be checked out for the lingering effects of any dark spells.”

“No, it would not.” She shook. “Merlin knows I was hit with enough dark spells during the war. Any of them could have a strange effect on me.”

“Indeed.”

She gulped. “How soon do you think Draco can see me?”

“As soon as he knows you are ailing.”

She put her hands behind her back.

He coughed. “I would strongly suggest spending the rest of the evening explaining the source of your stress to your loved ones…”

“No.”

Severus stopped mid-sentence.

“Nobody other than you can know any of this,” she argued.

“Why?” He pointed to the doorway. “Everyone in that sitting room would love to help and support you.”

“No, my parents would worry too much for me and Ron…” Her throat constricted. “Ron wouldn’t understand any of this.”

“Ron is supposedly your partner. He should know about this and support you through it.”

“I know, and he will when I understand what ‘this’ is.”

“Hermione,” Severus folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t you think you should inform the man you plan to marry that you may be sick?”

“Not until I know what it is and can tell him that I’m on the way to a cure.”

Severus twisted his lips.

“Please.” She folded her hands. “I just need you to keep quiet for a few more days. That’s all I want. That and…” She took his hand again, causing him to startle. “I need you to go with me.”

“Why?” He squeezed her hand.

“Because I don’t want to be alone when I get the diagnosis, or lack of one.”

“So you’re isolating yourself with the exception of being near.”

"Yes."

"That makes little sense."

“I know it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fully make sense to me, but," She met his eyes again. “Haven’t you ever wanted someone to be by your side even when you knew you should be alone?”

His voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s been my entire life.”

“Then please,” her voice was soft. “Please help me arrange things with Draco and go to this appointment with me.”

“It wouldn’t hurt for Draco to have a second opinion. I know spells he’s never heard of, and I have a more in-depth knowledge of some of the spells the Death Eaters used.”

“So you’ll help me?” She asked, ignoring the creaking of the door behind her.

“If you need me at that appointment, I’ll be there,” he promised.

“Thank you.” She released his arm and embraced him.

“Anytime.” He returned the embrace, as if he needed her as much as she needed him.

***

If there was one thing Muriel had learned from that expression on her husband’s face, it was that she would not like what was to come. Something advantageous to him had occurred, something that indicated he was about to get his way.

“Is Mione okay?” Ron asked.

“Oh, she’s fine.” Wilford sat on the couch and crossed his left leg over his right. “She’s more than fine now.”

“Good.” Ron shook his head. “I don’t like dealing with her when she’s upset.”

“I have a feeling that you won’t have to deal with her bad moods much longer.”

“I won’t?” Ron’s eyes glistened.

“No.” Wilford’s lips turned upwards. “You won’t.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. I get tired of comforting Hermione when she cries. It’s always my fault, which is bloody annoying.”

“She won’t be annoying you for very much longer.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll owe Snape a dinner at The Leaky Cauldron. I may even throw in a pack of beer just to make sure he knows how much I appreciate it.”

Wilford chuckled. “I’ll owe Severus quite a bit too once Hermione realizes how well he can calm her.”

Muriel exhaled, wondering how long it would take Ron and Hermione to learn that their relationship was dead.

Chapter Text

Being the best friend of Draco Malfoy’s wife had its advantages. Hermione was able to get an appointment first thing Monday morning. Although Draco was discreet with all his patients, it eased Hermione's mind to know there would be dire consequences if she had treated less than fairly.

For the second day in a row, Hermione called into work sick, claiming she was coming down with the flu. This may not be far from the truth. If her magical instability led to immunodeficiencies, then she could develop a flu at any moment. There may be other side effects from her condition as well. If her illness wasn't caused by stress, if her unstable magic was caused by something she couldn't control...

No, she couldn't think of that, not right now. It was best to think of the most positive outcome, namely that all of this was just stress. With a few days at the spa, her perfect life could resume. 

In that spirit, she decided not to dwell on the appointment. To do so, she spent all weekend with Ron, listening to him talk about Quidditch and eating his favorite takeout foods. Seeing him smile warmed her heart. Behind all the fighting, there was love, even if it didn't always feel that way.

“Perhaps you should take some advice from the chefs at Royal Thai,” Ron chuckled as he put a second helping of coconut curry on his plate. “They know how to use a magical stove, something you seem to have forgotten how to do.”

“Yes.” She lowered her eyes. “They do make a good meal. I'll have to get their recipe sometime.”

“They make better meals than you. Still, you can learn. I mean, you like studying. Surely you can learn how to cook properly.”

She swallowed. “Yes, I can.”

Ron didn’t notice that she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, opting instead to continue stuffing his face. Come to think of it, he didn’t seem to notice that she was giving mostly monosyllabic answers and would stare into space at various times. Nobody in his family did either. At the weekly Sunday Burrow Brunch, nobody said anything about how she was quieter and ate less than usual.

Had people always been paying this little attention to her?

No, the Weasleys were too absorbed in their own lives. Harry and Luna were too focused on having their child to give her any heed. Draco would pay attention to her, though. He’d better do so with the money she was paying him.

She strolled into the office, Severus in tow. She sat on the tan examination table, wondering if any of her patients had ever been this nervous during their appointments. Until now, she never considered their emotions. Now, she wished she could speak to one of them, just to get some advice on how to navigate her situation.

Across from her, Severus sat in a thinly padded lavender chair. He hummed and tapped his finger on a wooden desk to a tune Hermione couldn’t recognize. When this appointment was concluded, she’d ask him about it.

“So Hermione, it looks like you've found yourself in trouble again.” Draco strutted in, staring at a clipboard. When he looked up and took notice of Severus, he turned to Hermione and smirked, “You must already want a second opinion.”

“I promise that I am not here to undermine you,” Severus answered as Draco closed the door. “I am merely here for emotional support.”

Draco kept his eyes on Hermione. "Do you think he's capable of emotionally supporting you?"

"He's more supportive than a cobra would be anyway," she answered.

Draco couldn’t suppress his chuckle. Severus glared at him, but there was a glimmer of affection in his expression.

Hermione examined Draco’s outfit. Unlike the healers at St. Mungo’s, he wore formal robes, as if he was going to a board meeting. Was this just a business transaction with a list of symptoms, or would Hermione be allowed to maintain some of her humanity?

“So,” Draco took another glance at his notes before sitting on a chair with wheels and no back. After reviewing her chart for a moment, he returned his attention to her. “Hermione, you said that you’ve been having some trouble casting certain spells, claiming you need to do them more than once for the intended effect.”

“Yes,” she hoped her voice concealed the pit in her stomach. “I’ve noticed that the effects of cleaning spells, such as those that aid in dusting, are less effective than they were last month.”

“Is it only cleaning spells that are affected?”

“No, the spells I use as a healer are affected too. It’s taken me two times to cast some of the simplest spells. Even when I cast a healing spell correctly, it takes longer for them to work.”

Draco hummed and nodded, his eyes remaining on her.

“The breaking point came this Friday when I tried to cook some stir fry with my magical oven. I’ve been using it for years without issue. Yet, the oven wasn’t responding to my magic anymore. I, I lost control of the flames, causing them to erupt, nearly burning the whole place down.”

“It was quite terrifying,” Severus cut in. “Had I not been there to cast a spell to put out the flames, she and her parents could easily have lost their lives."

Draco turned to him. “You were a witness to this event?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“What did you see before the oven exploded?”

Severus swallowed before fidgeting. “Nothing. I, uh, wasn't paying attention to what was occurring."

“I see.” Draco swallowed as his eyes softened. "Did you hear or smell anything unusual before the explosion?"

“No, I only experienced the fire after the fact.”

“Why were you present during the fire?”

“I was at a dinner party with Hermione’s parents and Mr. Weasley. While I was in the sitting room, I heard the fire erupt.”

“Very well then,” Draco scratched his chin. “What else did you experience?”

Severus moistened his lips. “I heard the flames erupt and felt their heat against my skin. They seemed bigger than any I had ever experienced.”

“What did you do once you sensed the fire?”

“I put the flames out with a dousing spell.”

“His spell misfired, and I wound up getting soaked,” Hermione cut in. “His aim leaves something to be desired.”

Severus glared in her direction.

“Under stress we all make mistakes,” Draco began taking notes. “I can’t say that I would be calm under pressure if Ginevra was burning down the house and was at risk of killing our children.”

“Yes, but I’m hoping you could get through to your godfather,” Hermione cut in. “He needs help as much as I do.”

"What does he need help with?"

“His balance and sense of direction. He keeps falling into things, and he isn’t looking into my eyes anymore.”

“I am trying to look at you,” Severus snapped.

“Well, you’re failing,” she argued. “He'll look in my direction, but we don’t make eye contact. It’s odd.”

Severus recoiled.

“If Uncle Severus wants to receive treatment from me, he’s more than capable of doing so.” Draco turned to Hermione. “If you would rather discuss Uncle Severus’ condition during this appointment, it will be charged to you. I must warn you, you’ll be no closer to discovering the reason for your magical loss than when you entered my office if you choose this route.”

She opened her mouth.

"Also, if we are going to discuss Uncle Severus' case, then he is free to ask you to leave the room."

"I would not be opposed to that," Severus cut in.

Hermione twisted her lips.

“As you can see, she excels at deflection,” Severus noted.

“This we know,” Draco wrote something else down. Then he turned to Hermione. “I’m going to need a little more information from you before I proceed.”

“Fine.”

“Why did you come to see me?”

“Because you’re a healer who is an expert in dark magic.”

“And you think you are affected by a dark curse?”

She shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Okay, how many dark curses have you ever been hit with?” Draco asked.

“Do you think I can keep count?”

“Fair point.” Draco folded his hands. “What were the major curses you were hit with during the war?”

“The first major hit was Dolohov’s curse. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but after some research, I think it was a ceață violetă.”

“Okay,” he twiddled his thumbs. “That should not have affected your magical abilities. What other dark spells have you been hit with?”

“There were little curses and hexes throughout our battles. I don’t know all of them. None of them seemed serious, though.”

“Are there any major curses you remember?”

“There were the curses fired during Bellatrix’s torture of me.”

Draco paled. “What did she cast?”

“She cast several crucitas curses.” She winced at the memory.

“Anything else?”

Hermione closed her eyes and squirmed. Jumbled words and images formed in her mind. Bile rose up her throat as she remembered Bellatrix’s laughter at her screams. Her muscles contracted at the memory of the pain and agony of the dark magic coursing through her body. Then there was Ron’s screaming, the only thing which kept her grounded in reality. Still, she needed to focus upon Bellatrix, the woman she’d been trying to forget for years. The dark witch’s words ran together until one spell came into focus.

She shook. Then, she opened her eyes and focused upon Draco. “There’s one curse, which I found odd. I’d never read about it, but it hurt more than the others. She only cast it once. It was ‘gata de sânge de noroi magic.’”

The second she said that, Severus and Draco paled. The men looked at each other. Severus fidgeted while Draco’s eyes were wide.

“I never looked it up because it seemed to only be one that did not cause me any pain,” Hermione continued. “Should I have looked into it further?”

“Well,” Draco took a shaky breath. “I’m not sure much could’ve been done had you done your own research. It’s doubtful you could’ve helped yourself, nor could anyone else have helped you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's just say you need to lie down in order for Uncle Severus and me to perform some diagnostic spells.”

“You and Severus?”

“Yes,” Draco stood. “I want a second opinion before I make this diagnosis.” He turned to Severus. “Do you think you can perform the necessary diagnostic spells?”

“I know I can,” Severus answered.

Hermione shook as a chill overtook her body. Within seconds, the care in Draco’s eyes was replaced by that of the cold professionalism of a medical professional. Draco gestured for her to lie down, which she did.

Draco pulled out his wand and began making circular motions. He glanced at Severus, who was now standing. The older man nodded. Then, Draco’s wand emitted a blue mist.

“Pacientul meu nu mai are sânge de noroi magic?” Draco whispered.

Hermione’s chest glowed blue.

Draco bit his lip and turned to Severus. “It’s blue.”

The man in black sighed as the mist faded. Looking every bit like a neutral professor, Severus approached her and cast the same spell, only to get the same result.

“It’s blue,” Severus muttered. “I can sense it.”

“Shit,” Draco muttered.

“What does that mean?” Hermione’s heart raced as beads of sweat formed on her brow. “Am I going to die?”

“No,” Draco answered in a soft voice as he gestured for her to sit upright.

“Then what does the blue mist mean?” Hermione sat upright.

“It means,” Draco’s voice was gentle. “Within a few months, you will no longer be able to perform magic.”

Chapter Text

Hermione could no longer feel her heart beating within her chest. The temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Her pupils were dilated. She was shaking as Draco’s words echoed throughout her brain.

How the hell could this be happening?

“Hermione,” Draco began in a gentle voice. “Do you want to know anything more about your condition?”

Hermione blinked as her trembling became more violent.

“Would you like me to explain your condition to you, or would you prefer to do so at a follow-up appointment when we are alone?”

“He can stay.” She turned to Severus. “I need him here.”

“Fine.” Draco took a deep breath. “Do you want to hear more about your condition now, or should we schedule another appointment when Uncle Severus can join us?”

“We don't need another appointment.” She pointed to him and raised her voice. “I want you to perform that test again.”

“I can do so.” Draco shook his head. “But it may give you the same result.”

“Do it again!” She demanded.

Draco raised his wand and performed the test once more, only to receive the same results.

“No,” she whispered. “No, that can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco reached behind him. “Would you like me to give you a tissue?”

“No.” She pointed to Severus. “He should administer the test! He’ll do a better job.”

“That test has been performed three times with the same result,” Severus argued. “The results will remain the same.”

“Well, do it again just to prove yourselves wrong.” She glared at him and hissed. “We both know you’re fallible. Tests are wrong all the time. Cast the spell again!”

“No,” Severus answered. “No matter how many times we administer the test, it is going to show that your magical core is damaged beyond repair. By this time next year, you will be a squib.”

“No!” She yelled. “You’re both wrong! You both have to be wrong!”

Draco inhaled.

“I...I got the spell wrong when I used the oven.” Hermione laughed. “Yes, yes, I got the spell wrong. There was so much going on at the time. Dad and Ron were fighting, my mum was asking intrusive questions, and Severus was trying to keep the peace. I just messed up the incantation amidst the chaos. That’s all this is.”

“What about the other times your magic has misfired or has reacted slower than usual?” Severus asked.

“Those were wrong too! I cast all the spells wrong.”

Severus opened his mouth, but Draco held up his hand and shook his head. Then, Severus nodded and returned to his seat.

“I knew coming here was a terrible idea.” She leapt off the bed. “This is all just stress. Yes, it’s stress, not whatever this curse is.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco’s voice was tender. “This diagnostic test is clear. Your magical core is deteriorating.”

“H-how do you know you tested for the right curse? How do you know for sure it's this curse if it's so rare?”

“The test I used has existed for over a thousand years. I have performed it several times and am confident in my ability to do so.”

“Your confidence is misplaced.” She laughed as tears filled her eyes. “Yes, it’s all wrong.”

“Take my wand from my hand.”

Both of them turned to Severus, who was holding up his wand.

“You know how to cast an Accio wand.” He raised it. “Disarm me.”

“Fine.” She cracked her knuckles and pulled out her wand. “Accio wand!”

Nothing occurred.

“Accio wand!”

Still nothing.”

“You, you’re casting a counterspell. Yes, you’re casting a counterspell because you want to save face. You’re afraid to admit you’re wrong, so you’re going to make me look like a fool.”

“I assure you, I am not casting a counterspell,” Severus answered.

“Fine! Accio wand!”

Still, nothing happened.

Boiling tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. In a shaky voice, she cried, “Accio wand.”

The wand left Severus' hand but fell on the floor before her.

“It.” She shook. “It didn’t even reach my hand.”

Draco picked up the wand.

“It’s, oh God.” She curled into a ball and began crying. “It’s true, isn’t it? All of it’s true. I—I’m losing my magic, aren’t I?”

The expression in Draco’s eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“How did I not notice my magic failing before?” She croaked.

“The curse is insidious in that it’s unknown when it will take effect,” Draco answered. “Sometimes it’s instantaneous, but in powerful wizards, it can take years to manifest itself.”

She gasped for breath.

Draco leaned forward. “The onset is often subtle. Most people don’t notice it until months before their magic is depleted.”

“Is there a cure?”

“I’m afraid there is no known cure.”

She felt as if someone had cast an Avada on her but forgot to ensure she was dead.

“Can you please tell me what I’ve just said?” Draco asked.

“Why? I can hear you just fine,” she retorted.

“I know, but I would feel better if I heard the words coming out of your mouth.”

“I have a curse that will take away my magic within months.”

“Okay,” Draco nodded. “Is there anything else you recall?”

“I’ve had this curse for a while because Bellatrix is a horrible, vindictive woman!”

“Yes, she was.”

Hermione’s throat tightened.

“I understand you must be upset right now. This isn’t the news you wanted to hear.”

“Who would want to hear that their magic was disappearing?” She shouted. “I’ve dedicated my life to magic! How can it all be gone because of one curse?”

“Because Dumbledore and I should have protected you much better than we did,” Severus put a hand on his forehead. "Instead, we failed you in every way imaginable."

“No,” she breathed. “It isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Severus hummed.

Draco cleared his throat. “Would you like to learn more about your condition?”

“Y-yes,” her voice was that of a child facing a Dementor.

“Okay,” Draco kept his eyes on her. “Right now, you seem to be in the middle stages of the curse. As it progresses, you will notice it will take more time for spells to become effective, assuming you can cast them at all. It is going to take more attempts to cast spells as well. More complex spells may be impossible to cast, and simpler spells will be harder to cast as the disease progresses.”

“Until one day I can’t use magic at all,” her voice was soft.

“I’m afraid that is the prognosis.”

“H-how many months will that take?”

“I can’t answer that. It could take only a few weeks, or it could take up to eight months. By this time next year, though, your magic will be gone.”

“I’ll be a muggle again.”

“I’m sorry, but that seems to be the case.”

She shook. “Is this curse common?”

“No, it wasn’t cast very often during the war, in large part because few people were sadistic enough for it to work," Draco continued. "It takes someone with truly malicious intent in their heart to cast it correctly, someone who has little good left in their soul. Many of the Death Eaters were not that far gone.”

“But Bellatrix was.”

“Yes,” Draco bowed his head.

“Am...” Another tear fell from her face, “Am I going to be in pain throughout this process?”

He looked at her. “Most patients are not in pain as this occurs.”

“But some can be.”

“Most of the pain that is reported is the result of miscast spells and spells not working, such as the flare-up with your oven.”

“So I could harm myself with this?”

“Given that your magic is being depleted and you live in the Wizarding World, yes.”

She swallowed.

“There are ways to keep you comfortable, though." He folded his hands. "If you want, I can give you resources to ensure you are not in pain throughout this process.”

“And there’s no cure?” She squeaked.

“None that we know of,” Draco admitted.

“But there could be.” She forced her lips upwards.

“I cannot promise that,” Draco warned. “The dark magic my aunt used is extremely powerful, the kind that can overpower many other forms of magic. Plus, magical core injuries are very difficult to cure. Once the magical core is gone, it is almost impossible to restore.”

“But a cure could be found.”

“In theory, anything is possible,” he answered. “But you cannot hang your hopes on a potential cure. The reality is we don’t have knowledge of a cure or any idea where to begin looking for one.”

“But you could find a cure.”

“Unfortunately, there are no treatments, known or experimental, at this time that are proven effective against magical cure depletion.”

“But he’s a potions master.” Hermione pointed to Severus. “He could create one.”

Draco turned to him.

“I cannot make such a promise,” Severus warned. “I am a potions master, not a miracle worker.”

“But you could do it!”

“I do not know. I cannot promise anything.”

“Won’t you try to cure me?” More tears came to her eyes. “For me, won’t you try to find a cure?”

Severus took a shaky breath.

“Right now, our main priorities should be making you comfortable and reteaching you how to live like a muggle," Draco cut in.

“How could you do that?” Hermione blinked back her remaining tears.

“There are programs I can put you in touch with that help magical beings live in the muggle world. Granted, they are not quite in your situation, but they have been proven to help one to adjust to the muggle world.”

“I don’t want to live in the muggle world, though. No offense to my parents, but my home is here. The people I love as a family are here. I, I don’t want to go back to being a muggle, not when I know I wasn’t always like them.”

“You don’t need to return to the muggle world,” Draco’s voice was softer. “But if you choose to live in the magical world, then you will need to make accommodations.”

“I don’t need accommodations,” she argued. “I need to create a cure with Severus' help. If anyone can do it, it’s him!”

“There are things I cannot do!”

Both Hermione and Draco turned to Severus.

“I cannot save everyone, nor can I cure every condition,” his voice was strong. “The reality is there may be no cure, something you must accept.”

“So,” she trembled. “You’re giving up already.”

“I don’t want to give up before I’ve tried. Still, I don’t want to give you false hope.”

“No, you haven’t even tried. Nobody’s even tried to cure me.”

“Even if we tried to cure you, there’s no guarantee we would succeed.”

She twisted her lips as her body temperature rose.

“Hermione,” Draco’s voice was soft. “Can you please tell me what I’ve said?”

“You’re giving up on me and saying there’s no hope.”

“No,” Draco replied. “I’m telling you that you may need to focus on making accommodations instead of only finding a cure that may not come.”

“But a cure could come.”

Draco leaned closer to her. “Magical medicine is not a series of miracles. We cannot guarantee anything other than helping you adjust to life after this curse.”

“It sounds like giving up.” Her throat constricted.

“I’m trying to be realistic.” Draco scooted towards her. “People have been working on a cure for this for over a thousand years. So far, nothing has been discovered.”

“But there could be a cure,” her voice was weak.

“Anything is possible, but you must prepare yourself for the fact that this may be an incurable curse,” Draco replied. “Which is why you need to focus on creating accommodations for yourself.”

“What kind of accommodations?”

“Well,” Draco locked eyes with her. “You’re going to need to lean more heavily on technology that doesn’t use magic. This will include electronic devices and possible technology such as computers and cellphones. Some people move into a muggle flat because that technology is more readily available.”

“I don’t want to do that, though,” she snapped. “I love my house.”

“Fine, but then you’re going to need to put things where you can reach them with your hands, replace your magical oven with one that does not require magic, put in an electrical system, and some kind of heating system so you can function on a day-to-day level.”

“That sounds expensive.” She slouched.

“Which is why many people with this curse return to the muggle world. It’s easier to find affordable housing.”

“But I love the Wizarding World, and I…” Her eyes grew. “My job.”

Draco hummed.

“I…” Tears trickled down her cheeks again. “I’m going to have to get a different job, aren’t I?”

“Given that you are a healer and your job depends so heavily on you using magic,” Draco slumped. “That may be necessary.”

“But I love my job.”

“I know,” his voice was soft. “But it may also not be feasible to be a healer for much longer.”

Her body went cold.

“There are support groups and programs for people who want to transition to the muggle world,” Draco continued. “They were started after the war for people who were too afraid to remain in the Wizarding World and for those who were going to marry a muggle. I can put you in touch with a few of those groups. I could also put you in touch with support groups for those with magical core injuries. If you want, I can give you some pamphlets on them before you leave.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want that.”

“Okay, but if you ever need them, just contact me. I can put you in touch with some people who have an idea of what you’re going through.”

“Nobody knows what I’m going through.”

“I know,” Draco whispered.

Hermione sniffed.

“I can also give you some pamphlets on wizards and witches living in the muggle world. They can give you some ideas of the kinds of technology you’ll need to survive,” Draco offered.

“I don’t want them, not right now.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, all you need to do is call me. I am more than happy to help and provide any support that I can.”

“Thank you.” She bowed her head.

“Are there any other resources you need, such as a counselor, a chaplain, or some type of expert on transitioning to the muggle world?” Draco asked.

“No,” she answered.

“Okay,” he replied before pulling out a white business card. “If you need anything at all, please let me know.”

“I don’t need this.” She took it. “I know where you live.”

“I know,” he answered. “But this contact information is for a private, confidential address. If you send an owl here, I will know that it requires my immediate attention. Ginevra and the children know not to ask questions when I return to my office to answer the owls sent to my confidential address.”

“Thank you.” She examined the card.

Draco turned to Severus. “Are you going to take her home?”

“I will,” Severus answered.

“Good.” Draco stood. “She needs someone to support her.”

Severus nodded.

“Hermione.” Draco turned to her. “I truly am sorry about all this. Still, I will do everything I can to ensure you are as comfortable as possible during all this.”

“How can I be comfortable without magic?”

Draco hummed.

“Can…can you not tell anyone I was here?” She whispered.

“You never need to ask that,” Draco answered. “Everything is completely confidential. Nobody will ever know I saw you.”

“Thank you.”

He extended a hand. “If you need anything, please let me know.”

“I will.” She gave him a limp handshake.

Draco strolled over to Severus and extended his hand. “Please take care of her. She needs you now more than ever. Just as importantly, you need her now more than ever.”

Hermione glanced up.

“I will do everything I can to help her through this.” Severus shook his hand.

“Good.” Draco released his hand, then took one last look at the couple. “My next appointment isn’t for another ten minutes. I will be seeing them in another room. If you need a few moments to collect yourselves, feel free to do so.”

“We will,” Severus answered.

Draco strolled out of the room, closing the door behind him. Once he did so, Hermione erupted into tears.

Why couldn’t Bellatrix have just killed her?

Chapter Text

How could this happen to me?

Hermione stared at her front door, her mind grasping for any explanation of the last few weeks. Sure, she remembered Bellatrix cursing her, her cackles reverberating throughout the room, the pain searing throughout Hermione's body, and the sneer the Death Eater wore through it all. Where had Bellatrix learned it? What had possessed her to use it? Of all the people to torture, why did it have to be Hermione?

Why couldn’t the curse have failed?

This was all one terrible nightmare, one that couldn't be allowed to come true. All Hermione’s life, she’d had magic. Even before her Hogwarts letter came, something was different about her. Toys floated and danced around her, bringing a smile to her face. It mattered little that her peers could not do the same thing and fled in fear when she performed her tricks for them. Not once did she care when the teachers called her parents when she scared them too much. If Dad said something made her special, then she was one of the most special witches in existence. If Mum told her to cherish who she was and the gifts she possessed, then she would do it.

Going to Hogwarts was a dream come true. Finally, people understood her! They could do the same tricks she could. Nobody mocked her for being weird or ran from her in terror. It was everything she'd ever wanted and more.

Of course the illusion of a world where she would be accepted had been shattered when she encountered pureblood culture and their prejudices. Still, she was able to prove that muggleborns were just as powerful, skilled, and capable as any pureblood wizard. She had broken so many barriers, won so many battles, saved so many people…

Now it was all over.

“Hermione?” Severus asked in a voice so soft she wasn’t sure if it was him or an auditory hallucination.

She turned to him.

“Do you need some tea?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I.” She shook. “I need a second, no wait, a third opinion, but I don’t know where to get it.”

“We both know that every other healer will get those same results.”

“Are you certain?”

He nodded.

“And there’s no cure?” Her throat tightened.

He slumped and bowed his head.

“C-can we find one?” She asked in a small voice.

He raised his head. “We can try, though I cannot promise any success.”

“In other words,” A tear came to her eyes. “This may be it. By this time next year, I may not be able to perform magic.”

His eyes told her all she needed to know.

“Since I was eleven, my life has been dedicated to magic. Now,” she waved her hand. “It’s just all gone, like none of it ever happened, like it was all for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Severus’ voice was stronger. “You did so much good for our world with your magic.”

“And look where it got me,” she shuddered. “I’m going to be nothing more than a squib, only unlike them, I’ll remember using magic. I’ll remember the feel of gold dust in my hands when making a potion, the sensation of a wand in my hand as I cast a Wingardium Leviosa, and the joy that making the world bend to your power can give. I’ll remember it all, even though I can no longer do it.”

Severus reached out his hand. “Would you like to discuss this over some tea?”

“Why are you obsessed with tea?” She snapped.

“Because it calms me when I get overwhelmed by my condition.”

“What condition?”

“Never mind.” His eyes hardened. “Do you want tea?”

“Fine,” Hermione whispered before taking his hand. She led him to the kitchen, her mind too foggy to ask him to guide her.

Once inside, Severus stopped and blinked. In a sheepish voice, he asked, “Where do you keep your tea-making supplies?”

“They're over here.”

“Okay." He swallowed. "Where is over here?"

"Here." She pointed to her right.

He squinted.

“Here, I can get them myself.” She kept a hold on his hand, as if it would tether her to reality. “Let me pull them out for you.”

“Thank you,” he answered. “The last thing I want is to rifle through your things.”

“Indeed, you wouldn’t want to be accused of stealing tea ingredients now, would you?” She cracked a small smile.

“After experiencing the violation of having my potion ingredients stolen.” His lips curled upwards, “No.”

She squeezed his hand before letting it go. The second she released it, she missed his touch. Right now it was the only comfort she’d had. It was more powerful than any tea or magical spell. Perhaps he would take her hand and help return her to reality, should she ever need it.

“I…” His throat tightened as she pulled out her tea-making supplies. “I apologize for not rescuing you from the Snatchers or preventing Bellatrix from torturing you. Had I had any idea those were the kinds of curses she would use, I would have done everything possible to save you.”

“No, you couldn’t do that,” she put her kettle and tea leaves on the table. “You were playing a role. Had you stepped in, your whole cover would have been blown.”

“Perhaps, but you would have led a happy life had I done something sooner.” He tensed. “I should have killed the bitch when I had the chance. There were a few times I could have. It would not have been difficult to cover up her death. There was a chance I could convince the Dark Lord she was careless around an Order member or had crossed the wrong wizard, leading to her demise. Either of those would have been believable. I hate killing, but I could’ve saved so many people had I killed her when I had the chance.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” her voice was strong. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Not directly anyway.”

“No, it isn’t your fault at all.” She put the kettle on the stove. “It is Bellatrix’s fault for torturing me. You had nothing to do with it.”

“Perhaps.” His eyes didn’t quite fall on the kettle. Still, he was able to reach over and set it on the stove. Then, he intoned, “Aguamenti.”

This time, the water landed in the kettle.

“Can you use the stove?” Hermione’s voice was weak. “I don’t trust myself to perform magic right now.”

“I will.” He finished casting the spell and returned his wand to his pocket. Then, he felt around on the oven dials before turning them on.

“Are you having difficulty seeing?” Hermione asked.

“No,” he snapped. “I just want to make sure the stove isn’t too damaged before I use it.”

“Is it?”

The flame turned on without incident. “In my estimation, no.”

“What do you mean, ‘in your estimation?’”

“It’s just a phrase. Think nothing of it.”

“Fine.” She folded her hands. “I'm sorry. When I'm shaken up, I talk too much.”

“You don't talk too much, and you have every right to be shaken up." He turned to her. “Magical stoves are dangerous when used by those without magic.”

“Like squibs,” there was venom in the final word.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Like people who were hit by a curse while saving the world, people who do not receive the appreciation they deserve.”

She hummed before shaking her head. “Where am I going to go now?”

“You could stay in your house, provided you were able to accommodate yourself.”

“I know Draco said it was possible with the right technology, but…” She glanced around the room, taking note of all the ways it needed magic to function, such as making tea, setting the table when the plates were in the highest cupboard, and keeping the place clean enough for Ron’s standards.

Bile raced up her throat at the thought of Ron and his tirade against squibs.

“How am I going to break this to Ron?”

Hermione didn’t know if she’d said that out loud or kept it in her head, but the way Severus was looking at her told her he’d heard it.

“Ron doesn’t want a squib as a baby. He said he couldn’t see himself married to a muggle. Yet here I am on the verge of losing my magic.” She was shaking so hard she could not see straight. “What am I going to tell him?”

“The truth,” Severus replied. "You were hit with a curse, and your life will change. Still, you want to work through this with him."

“No, I can’t tell him any of that,” she answered as tears formed in her eyes. “He’ll leave me before I finish explaining what is happening to me.”

“Perhaps when confronted with the reality of the woman he loves being unable to perform magic, he will change his mind about muggles and squibs. There is a slight chance he will begin to act like a respectable human being and embody the tolerance he claims to have.”

"No, he’ll just change his mind about marrying me and spending the rest of his life with me,” she squeaked. “Harry made it sound like he was considering proposing to me soon. We always talked about moving in together. That will never happen now.”

“You may still get married so long as he agrees to work through this with you.”

“No, we won’t ever get married,” her voice was louder. “We'll never work through this. He doesn’t want a de-magicked wife. No wizard does.”

“When he said those things about muggles and squibs, he didn’t know why you were asking about them. Now that he does, his opinion may have changed.”

“Or perhaps he’ll dump me, or worse, stay with me out of pity. If he does the latter, he’ll grow to resent me. We could be in any unhappy marriage where we grow to resent each other.”

Severus hummed, his expression betraying that he thought this unhappy marriage would have occurred without the curse.

Hermione’s tears fell anew. “I love Ron, but I can’t bear the thought of us resenting each other or him staying with me out of pity.”

“Nobody should stay with you out of pity, not when you are anything but pitiful.”

“But…”

“No.” Severus raised his hand until it was on her shoulder. “You are not worthy of pity. The last thing anyone should do is pity a woman as strong as you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“There is no need to thank me for being honest.” He rubbed her shoulder.

The tension in her body eased under his touch. Despite his harsh demeanor as a professor, he was the only one who could comfort her now. Perhaps it was because he was the only person who would tell her the whole truth as he saw it.

“I cannot speak for Mr. Weasley, but he is a fool if he leaves you over this,” Severus continued.

“Perhaps.” She stood taller. “Which is why I need to be the one who walks away first.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I, I have to end this now.” She wiped her tears away. “I have to release Ron.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Well, first, I need to take an extended leave from my job so I can work on a cure for this curse. I have enough vacation time. I’ll be fine for a month or two.”

“In the meantime, you’re going to speak with Ron about your diagnosis?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m going to break up with him.”

The hissing of the kettle pierced through the room.

Severus pulled out his wand and called, “Accio cups.”

The cups flew into his hands. He gave them to Hermione, who set them on the counter. Then, he removed the kettle from the stove.

“I just need a compelling reason to break things off.” Hermione scratched her chin.

“I suppose you could always say you’re tired of the bickering and the name-calling every night. That would be enough reason for most people to leave a relationship.”

“I could, but then we’d fight and make up. I… I have to say something that will be compelling, something that he even can’t argue against.”

Severus squinted before pouring the tea. Hermione took note that he spilled a little. Then again, the kettle was heavy, even for her. It may be nothing.

“I need a reason to break up with him that he knows is final,” she continued.

“What do you propose then?” He asked.

She tapped her foot before her eyes lit up. “He couldn’t argue against breaking up with me if I was cheating on him with another man.”

“Excuse me?” Severus handed her a cup.

“Yes.” Her chest swelled with hope the first time that day. “I need to pretend to be with another man in order for him to dump me.”

“Okay.” Severus took a deep breath. “First of all, nobody is ever going to believe that you cheated on Ron, not after all you’ve been through.”

“Anyone can cheat under the right circumstances.”

“And what would those be?”

“A moment of passion, a moment where I gave in to my feelings for another man I’ve been dancing around for years.”

“Who could possibly fit that description?” Severus picked up his cup of tea. “Harry and Draco are both married, and Viktor is engaged to another man. Who else in your life could possibly qualify as a viable romantic interest?”

She took a sip from her cup before locking eyes with him. “You.”

Chapter Text

"You."

The word reverberated throughout Severus' brain. He couldn't have heard it right, could he? Yet she wasn't saying anything else and gave no indication anyone had crossed her mind other than Severus.

He blinked and kept his gaze in Hermione’s direction. She was sipping her tea as if she’d merely asked him to take out the trash, not help her destroy her life. How could she be so calm in light of this horrendous plan?

Worse, why was he somewhat open to this idea?

“Me.” He pointed to himself with the hand that was not holding his cup of tea.

“Yes, you." Her voice was certain, as if this plan had been thought over for months, not the last two minutes.

“No.” He shook his head. “No one is going to believe that we have been having a clandestine affair for the last few weeks.”

“Why not?” She asked. “There was ample opportunity to do so."

"When?"

"Anytime nobody was around. We’re neighbors. It would be easy to begin an affair behind everyone's back.”

"Nobody will ever believe this.”

"Why not?"

"To start, Ron would never believe you were capable of cheating on him."

“Are you certain of that?”

Severus cocked his head.

“Ron’s already caught us in each other’s embrace once. He is already jealous of you. He already sees you as a threat,” Hermione continued. “Why not confirm his suspicions?”

He twisted his lips.

“If I were going to date anyone, it would be you.”

He ignored the fluttering of his heart in favor of the ridiculousness of this plan.

“Ron senses something may be going on between us. It wouldn’t be difficult to play into those fears.”

He groaned before putting a hand on his head. "There is no possible way anyone is going to believe you would leave Ron for me."

“No, my plan is perfect,” she argued. “All we have to do is be caught in a compromising position and proclaim our eternal devotion to each other. While Ron’s under the impression that I'm with you, we’ll work on a cure for my condition. It will work because we’ll be together so much. Nobody will ever know that I was sick.”

Severus fought the urge to groan. The way Hermione described everything was so straightforward, so emotionless, so oblivious to the pain she’d be causing herself, and by proxy everyone around her. Everyone except him. He would feel no pain at having her in his arms, something he didn't quite understand. Still, if he could have even the appearance of her devotion, he would not call himself a miserable man.

“Perhaps we could go out to dinner a few times, just enough to get everyone talking about how relaxed we look together,” she continued. “If we went on a few dates, everyone would be convinced we were a couple. We could throw our relationship in Ron’s face just enough for him to know things were over, but not enough that he wouldn’t take me back when everything is done.”

“Okay,” he set his cup down on the counter and held out a hand. “First of all, how long is this imaginary relationship supposed to last?”

“As long as it needs to.”

“And how long would that be?”

“Just long enough for us to find a cure.”

“And if we don’t find a cure?”

“Then,” her voice was softer, “I will have to accept that Ron has moved on to a real witch, not a squib.”

“Are you fine with Ron moving on?”

“I won’t worry about that because we will find a cure before that happens.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We will.”

Severus groaned.

“I know it could take a while to find a cure..." She began.

“So leaving him is the answer?”

“Given everything he's said, it's the best one. Once he realizes he’s better off without a demagicked woman, then it will take away the sting of my supposed rejection.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He picked up his cup. “He may, no, he will, move on.”

“No, he wouldn’t, not when we’re meant for each other.”

Severus bit back his urge to say they belonged together as much as Eileen and Tobias Snape did.

“Even if we can’t find a cure, he’ll…he’ll be better off without me.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Yes,” her voice was stronger. “I know Ron. At some point, he’ll find a way to move on, if only to spite me for leaving him. Even if we’re soulmates, he will move on, if only to satisfy his need for a wife.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“I…” Her voice faltered. “I have to be.”

He took a deep breath. “And if he doesn’t move on?”

“I,” she gulped. “I don’t know what will happen. I’m sure he will move on, though. When he realizes someone will make a better wife than me, he’ll move on.”

“What if you regain your magic, and he has moved on? What do you plan to do then?”

“I…” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“You must consider that before engaging in this recklessness.” He took another sip of tea.

“Ron and I will find some way to work through this,” she argued. “If we find a cure, I’ll explain everything. Somehow, we’ll recover from our breakup. We’ve recovered from every other fight we've had. We can do it again.”

“And you think he will shrug his shoulders at the idea of you lying to him about an affair?”

“When he realizes I was acting in his best interests, then he will forgive me.”

“What about the fact you are infringing on his freedom?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are not his mother. He won’t appreciate you making decisions for him, such as whether or not he can support you through your illness.”

“He will understand why I'm doing this. I mean, he’s told me on several occasions that he wants someone to care for him.”

“Why does a grown-ass man need someone to care for him?”

“Because he wants someone like his mother.”

“So you want to fulfill that role? You want a full-grown man-baby in addition to any children you decide to have?”

“I don’t know, but,” she scowled. “We’re off topic. I’m doing what is in his best interest.”

He put a hand on his forehead. “Perhaps you should think this through before engaging in any sort of scheme, especially one such as this.”

“I have thought this through, though,” her voice was louder. “I have to do this. It’s better for everyone if he leaves me alone during my search for a cure.”

“Fine, you need him gone,” he groaned. “What is in this for me?”

She was quiet, though he could hear her feet shifting from side to side.

“I’m sacrificing quite a bit for a plan that has little benefit to me,” his voice was firm. “If, and that is a very conditional if, I agree to go along with this, what do I get in return?”

She was silent.

“That is what I suspected.” He took another sip of tea.

“I won’t harass you about you tripping over everything anymore,” she began. “That is what you receive in return.”

He huffed. “That is hardly worth anything. Eventually, you will forget I was ever bruised. Everyone else has.”

“How could you say that I would ever forget that you were bruised?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

She paused. “Fine, if you cure me, you’ll be published. Is that enough?”

“I will be published with or without your help. I have a few promising experiments already in the works, ones I can publish without agreeing to an ill-conceived plan.”

“Fine, I could help you arrange your house so you do not fall anymore. Is that enough?”

His heart slowed as he thought about how difficult it would be to navigate everything if it was all arranged differently. “I do not want anything in my house rearranged. I will fall more if that occurs.”

“Then we can find and treat the reason for your falls.”

His muscles tightened. “I already know the cause of my falls. I don’t need you or anyone else to worry about or treat them.”

“Then I’ll give you as much money as you want. Will that convince you to help me?”

“I don’t need your money. I have money and a job.”

“Yes, but…” She fell silent again.

“There is nothing you could give me that would entice me to go along with this ridiculous plan,” he answered.

“No,” she exhaled. “I suppose not.”

“So, you need to rethink this plan before you harm yourself.”

“I…” She sniffed. “I don’t know who else can help me.”

He pursed his lips together.

“I know what’s going to happen if we don’t find a cure. I will return to the muggle world, where I don’t know how to make a living or contribute to society. I don’t have any muggle skills or hope of employment. I don’t even have a primary school degree. I have nothing that will help me. I’m hopeless there.” She let out a sob at the end.

Severus’ stomach sank as he remembered the haunted look of his mother’s eyes when she explained how helpless she was when it came to stopping Tobias from beating her. If he was ever imprisoned, what little money they had would evaporate. She couldn’t make a living, not without any kind of muggle education. After being expelled from the magical world for becoming pregnant out of wedlock, she could not make a living in the magical world either. Her parents had no interest in ever seeing either of them again. They were trapped, dependent upon Tobias for everything. Even if he beat them, he fed them his scraps. His mother believed that meant something. That feeling of his back against the wall had fostered a hatred for muggles that had led him to destroy his life. 

Wilford and Muriel were not like Severus’ grandparents in that they wouldn’t disown Hermione, but they didn’t fully understand wizards either. Should they perish or be unable to support Hermione, she would be alone in a world she couldn't navigate. This would make her vulnerable to the whims of people such as Tobias, people who could provide for her, for a steep price. He’d already failed her by not protecting her from this curse. Could he fail her again by turning his back and doing nothing to prevent her from being beaten within an inch of her life?

“I—I’m sorry for dragging you into all this.” Her footsteps went backwards. “You’re right, this isn’t your problem. It was wrong to ask you for any help. I can just move back in with my parents and…”

“I’ll do it.”

She stopped.

“This plan is ridiculous and will only cause you pain. Still.” He set his teacup on the counter and reached her shoulder until he touched it. “Being in the muggle world will hurt you more than any action Mr. Weasley could take. If you are correct about him knowing you have lost your magic, there is a chance he will tell others your secret and expel you to the muggle world. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“So you’ll help?” Hope laced her voice.

“If only to keep you out of the muggle world for as long as possible, I will help you.” He stepped towards where he believed her to be. “Whatever happens, you will need time to plan your next move. With this plan, I can give you that.”

“Thank you,” She embraced him, sending jolts of shock and comfort through him. The moisture of her tears wetted his robes. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“I will think of something.” He winked.

She laughed before embracing him tighter. “You know, if we’re going to be the perfect couple, you have to embrace me back.”

“So I do,” he wrapped an arm around her before swallowing. “Be aware, I am not used to touching anyone. If I seem distant, please do not take offense.”

“How could I take offense? You are saving me from living in a world that doesn’t understand me. I’ve never been more grateful to anyone in my life.”

“I am either saving you or damning you to life with a surly man who is inept at relationships.”

“You’re saving me.” She buried her head in his robes.

He began to rub her back, hoping she was correct. If she wasn’t, he would never forgive himself.

Chapter Text

Hermione was upset. About what, Ron didn’t know. All he knew was that last weekend, she wasn't herself. Every time he asked her why she was staring off into space or falling silent at the most unusual of times, she waved away his concerns with a peck on the cheek. For another hour or so she'd be fine, until she wasn't.

It was all so weird.

It must’ve had something to do with their latest fight. Ever since Hermione had asked about children, she’d been out of sorts. Although she said she was angry about the way he spoke about her muggle parents, he knew there was more. He’d yelled about how much he hated them before, and Hermione only pouted for a few hours before forgiving him. She always took his side against them. Always. Otherwise, she would have dumped him, which she hadn't done. No, she was only hiding behind them because something else was upsetting her.

Ron had an idea of what could be happening. Hermione had always shrunk away from commitment. Unless something involved academia or her career, she never committed to it. Hell, it took her forever before she admitted to herself or him that she was in love. Love scared her, something which became clearer with each passing year. If she were braver in the sight of love, she wouldn’t fight him the way she did.

That wasn’t her only problem. Hermione made far too many ridiculous excuses for her actions. If Ron didn’t act soon, she’d start inventing more reasons not to commit to him for the rest of her life. Worse, she’d decide owning ten cats and reading books all day was more important than being his wife and having his children. The last thing he wanted was to live in a house with his girlfriend surrounded by hissing cats making hairballs, being forced to read books he didn't like because if he didn't, she'd go over to the greasy git's house and discuss them with him. Just the thought of dealing with all that meowing and listening to her ramble on about some muggle author he cared nothing about made him shudder.

No, he needed to make his move now, lest Hermione continue her odd behavior and decide cats and books were more important than he was. Lucky for him, he knew exactly what to do.

Ron examined the golden ring in a black box. The diamond wasn’t the largest the store had to offer, nor was it the one that shone the brightest. Still, it would look beautiful on Hermione’s finger. All he needed was to stop by her house, pick her up for dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, and propose.

Then, everything between them would be perfect.

***

Severus’ muscles relaxed upon inhaling the aroma of Hermione’s lilac perfume. Her royal purple dress seemed to fit her figure perfectly, or at least it seemed to give her an appealing shape. Yet she was tapping her foot and humming a familiar muggle tune Severus had long forgotten the name of. If her habits remained the same, she was biting her lip, though he was incapable of making out that kind of detail.

“Ron said he’ll be here by six.” Hermione’s foot stilled. “Which means he will arrive closer to ten after six.”

“So there’s still time for you to change your mind about this whole ill-advised scheme.” Severus sat upon the bed.

“No,” she answered. “I’m not changing my mind. I have to break up with Ron, no matter how much it hurts to do so.”

He sighed and shook his head. If there was a God, they hadn’t listened to his pleas for Hermione to regain her senses. Whoever resided up there was determined to make him suffer in the sweetest, most painful ways imaginable.

“I’m doing the right thing.” Severus didn’t know if she was talking to him or herself. “I need to push Ron away so he can live his life without a squib wife. Pretending to cheat with you is my best option.”

“What about your other friends?” Severus asked. “Don’t you want their support through your diagnosis and subsequent treatment?”

She paused, which gave him a modicum of hope that reason had returned.

“No, I don’t want their pity,” her voice was soft. “I don’t want them to look at me like they need to do everything for me. I want them to remember me as a strong witch, not a de-magicked squib.”

“They just want to be in your life,” he argued. “If they are your true friends, then they will accept you as you are.”

“Will they accept me, or will they dance around my emotions until they stop talking to me because they don’t know what to say?” Hermione asked. “Will they stop inviting me to gatherings because I cannot perform magic? Will they decide I’m not worth being friends with because I can no longer do the things they do?”

“If they feel that way, they aren’t true friends.”

“True, but I wouldn’t be a true friend if I made them feel like I was a burden.”

“You’re putting them in a position where they cannot help you even though they would want to.”

“No, I’m allowing them to live their lives.”

“You’re making decisions for them.”

“I know, but when I’m cured, they’ll understand. They may be a little upset at first, but we'll find a way to work through it. This will all work out for the best.”

Severus sighed and shook his head.

“I know things will be fine unless…” The bed dipped under her weight. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“This isn’t about me and my thoughts,” he answered. “I’m trying to help you see the whole picture. You have several good friends who would want to help you through this. I’d hate for that to be destroyed because of a momentary lapse in judgment.”

“I appreciate your concern. Still…” She took a shaky breath. “I need time to find the cure. I need to be able to focus and not worry about others caring for me. I can’t do that if they’re smothering me.

“So your answer is to alienate everyone in your life, with the exception of me and your parents.”

"It won't be forever."

"What if they choose not to forgive you?"

She closed her mouth.

"We both know the Weasleys only care for their own. They will not take a betrayal lying down. While Harry can be forgiving, he can be petty as well. Are you willing to risk being on the receiving end of their wrath?"

“I,” she paused. “Someday they’ll all understand.”

Severus squinted, hoping to get a better view of her expression. “Or so you hope.”

She whispered. “Or so I hope.”

A suffocating silence engulfed the room.

Her voice was shaky. “If you’re having second thoughts, I won't involve you in this. I will just imply there’s another man and make up a story. I visit my parents enough for people to believe I could have a lover in Australia.”

He shook his head. “I do not want you to go through this illness alone. If you’re going to push away everyone who cares about you, I want you to have someone other than your parents by your side, someone who understands both the muggle and magical aspects of your life. I will stand by you regardless of the consequences for myself.”

Her voice was softer. “You truly do care for me, don’t you?”

“It seems as if I do.” His lips curled upwards. “Sometime between bemoaning you becoming my next-door neighbor and today, I have developed a soft spot for you.”

“Just a soft spot?” She put her hand in his.

He startled before regaining his bearings. “Yes, I have a soft spot for you, or at least one as soft as my heart is capable of having.”

“You can be a soft man when you want to be.”

He scowled. “There is nothing soft about me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You are being kind to a woman who is facing down losing her magic, and you are sweet towards Crookshanks. Those are soft spots," there was joy in her voice.

“If you tell anyone that I am capable of kindness towards anyone or anything, I will remind them why I was called the dungeon bat.”

“You would?” 

"When you had left the room, yes.” He squeezed her hand. “Then, I would also encourage you to see a healer about your distorted sense of reality. Anyone who thinks I am capable of kindness has gone round the bend.”

“Sure,” she drawled.

The tension in his muscles eased. Perhaps faking a relationship with Hermione wasn’t the wisest course of action, but if someone had to do it, he wanted to be the one who did. As far as fake girlfriends go, he could do much worse than her.

“Now.” She released his hand. “We have to set some ground rules if we want this to work out.”

“Okay.” He flexed his hand, already missing the texture of her skin.

“How far do you want to go in regards to touching?” Hermione asked.

“You may embrace me, run your fingers through my hair, touch my cheek, or do whatever else you would like. I do not want to be groped, though.”

“I hate being groped.” Her voice was low. “Ron does that to me more often than I’d like, especially in public. I will not grope you.”

“Great, I promise not to grope you either.”

“Are you fine with kissing?”

“I thought that was expected.”

“Only if you want to be kissed. Otherwise, we'll tell people we have other ways of showing affection."

“It would be odd if we didn’t kiss. I’m fine with kissing in order to put on a show.”

“Do you only want to kiss on the cheek, or may I kiss you on the lips too?”

“You may kiss me on the lips as well as the cheek. It is whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

“Okay,” she answered. “Do you want to go further?”

His eyes grew. “What are you proposing? Do you want us to make love in order for this relationship to be convincing?”

“No, not at all. I would never use you like that,” she answered quickly. “But when we’re in public, we’re going to have to make people believe we are together. People are going to want to know all the sordid details about how the Golden Muggleborn could leave her Golden Pureblood Boyfriend. Because of that, we’ll be under some scrutiny. People may ask how far we've taken things.”

His head began to spin. For years he’d guarded his privacy. Of course this witch would come and obliterate it. Worse, he was letting her because he was the only one she would allow to help her, and he couldn't bear the thought of her being alone.

She sounded oblivious to his distress. “If we want to make this convincing, we’ll need to be seen in public on a few dates. When we’re out on those dates, do you want to hold hands, kiss on the cheek, kiss on the lips, rub each other’s backs, or anything else?”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he replied.

“No, we’re in this together.” She slid closer to him, allowing him to gaze into her soft caramel eyes. “Is there a line you won’t cross?”

He swallowed. “I will not go for pet names or saying, ‘I love you.’”

“You won’t?”

“No,” his voice was stronger. “I do not want ‘I love you’ brought into the equation. Whatever you say to me, do not say, ‘I love you.’”

“Okay,” her voice betrayed her confusion.

“Please understand, this is for my protection. After the war, I swore my word would mean something. That means I do not carelessly throw around phrases that have deep meanings, nor do I make utterances that I do not understand.”

She twisted her lip. “What do you mean, ‘do not understand?’”

“It means.” He exhaled. “I don’t know what it means to be in love. I don’t know what it’s like to take another person into account when planning one’s life, how to show devotion to another person, nor do I understand how to set boundaries with someone while ensuring they know they are cherished. Because of that, I will not utter the word "love’ to you or anyone else. I request the same of you. We can lie to everyone, but do not lie to me about your emotions. The words, “I love you,’ are never to escape our lips.”

“That is fair.” She sat up straighter. “We can say we care for each other but don’t want to define our feelings.”

“That would be fair and accurate.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I can do that.”

“Perfect.” He cleared his throat. “What other boundaries do we have?”

“To begin with, no sex.”

“I thought that was a given.”

“True, but with some men, you tell them you care, and the first thing they want is for you to take off all your clothes. They feel as if they own you right after you kiss them. It’s quite irritating and objectifying.” She slid a few centimeters away.

“Is that what happened to you and Mr. Weasley?”

She rapped her hand on the bed. “Let’s just say I envisioned my first time being a little more romantic than fumbling on the floor because we’d kissed three times, so I owed him sex. If I didn't make love to him, then I was a tease who never really cared for him.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What an arse.”

“No, he was right. I shouldn’t play with his emotions. I was scared, but sleeping with him got me over the hump.”

“He shouldn’t have coerced you into sex.”

“It wasn’t coercion.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Look, none of this is relevant,” she argued. “I’m fine with any touch so long as we make sure others see it and we understand it’s all an act. There’s no sex when we’re alone.”

“Fine, I will respect that boundary,” he answered.

“Thank you.”

Silence fell between them again.

“What happens when we are no longer in a relationship?” Severus’ voice was just above a whisper. “What becomes of us then?”

“We’ll still be friends,” she replied. “There’s no reason for us not to be.”

“Will you still desire to be friends with your supposed ex?”

“I will.” Her voice was more certain than it had been all evening.

“What about Mr. Weasley? He will not appreciate my presence in your life once all is said and done.”

“Let me handle Ron.” She took his hand again, sending a shock throughout his body. “Regardless of what happens, you will remain my friend.”

“Very well then.” His lips curled upwards. “We will remain friends.

CRACK!

Hermione paled.

Severus leaned over and whispered. “This is your last chance to back out. I can leave without anyone ever knowing of this plan. Your diagnosis will be kept confidential as well.”

“‘Mione?”

Hermione clung to Severus’ hand as if she were a dragon, and he were her most precious treasure.

“‘Mione, where are you?”

Severus turned in Hermione’s direction.

Footsteps began to sound from the hallway. Before Severus could collect his thoughts, Hermione’s lips crashed into his.

Usually when Severus kissed a woman, it was to give her enough pleasure that she wouldn't mind satisfying his desires. Yet with Hermione, something deeper, more spiritual, was occurring. Here was a woman who needed, trusted, and cared for him. Unlike the other women who were strangers and disappeared with the rising sun, Hermione would be with him forever, or so he hoped.

Severus wrapped his arms around Hermione and held her tighter. He allowed the sensations to carry him, letting his lips create a rhythm with hers. Although he wasn’t sure if her moan was genuine, his low purr was. The way the witch melted into him, the aroma of her perfume, and the sounds she made were more intoxicating than any substance he’d ever created. His only desire was to remain in her arms forever.

Had he not been so caught up in the moment, he would have heard Ron enter the room, felt the magic emanating from the other man’s wand, and avoided the hex that crashed into his back.

Chapter Text

Hermione felt Severus’ body sag before she heard his cry out. His weight came crashing upon her, pinning her between him and the bed. She gasped for breath as she struggled to get out from under him.

“You bastard!” There was a CRACK when Ron struck Severus’ cheek. “You motherfucking bastard!”

“Ron!” Hermione shouted as Severus sat up, his eyes closed as his body shook.

“What did you do to her?” Ron punched Severus’ back, almost knocking him onto the bed again.

“Nothing!” Hermione cried. “He didn’t do anything to me!”

Ron raised his fist again. Before it could make contact with Severus, the older man kicked him in the groin. Ron screamed an octave higher than an opera singer’s aria. Then, Severus kicked him in the shin, knocking him backward.

“That’s enough!” Hermione positioned herself between the two men. Severus was panting, blood trickling down his cheek while Ron was rubbing his leg and wincing.

“I apologize for becoming violent.” Severus straightened his posture. “I did not expect Mr. Weasley to react as he did.”

“You kiss another man’s girlfriend, and you don’t expect to get your ass kicked?” Ron’s voice was still high.

“I did not expect to be interrupted from kissing said woman anyway.”

“Not expecting to be interrupted?” Ron locked eyes with him.

"Yes, you weren't supposed to be here for another few minutes."

“Why would it matter when I came home? Was the love potion you used on Hermione supposed to run out at a certain time?”

“Love potion?” Hermione asked.

“Yes.” Ron pointed to her. “It’s clear he gave you one.”

“No, he didn’t." She kept her voice as calm as possible.

“No, he did." Ron's voice was its usual pitch. "That’s the only reason you would snog him when you knew I was coming.”

“I knew you were coming.” Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall, hoping her performance was convincing. “I just didn’t expect you to be on time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ron shouted.

“It means.” She took a shaky breath. “It means I thought you would be a few minutes late because you always are.”

“Did you think I was so incompetent I wouldn’t come on time when we have reservations for the best restaurant in town?”

“That’s never stopped you from being late before.”

“Maybe I wanted to show you I could be responsible! Maybe I wanted to be a man you could love for once!”

She bowed her head, suppressing the tears. Even under the locket’s influence, he hadn’t yelled at her with such rage, nor had he behaved so violently towards others. Good Merlin, Severus wasn’t supposed to get hurt! If she’d known he would be assaulted, she never would’ve put this plan into motion.

“You,” He yanked her arm and pulled her forward until he could meet her eyes. “You’re under the influence of some love potion! I just know it! He poisoned you!”

“I would never stoop so low as to poison a woman with a love potion!” Severus shook and made two fists. “I am not a rapist!”

Ron glowered at Severus. “Do you expect me to believe that Voldemort’s second in command wouldn’t stoop so low as to poison a woman for his own pleasure?”

“I would never sexually assault a woman!” Severus’ face reddened, more rage in his voice than she'd ever heard from him.

Hermione’s stomach sank. The last thing she’d ever considered was Severus’ reputation. Good Merlin, if he went public with these accusations, Severus could be stuck in legal limbo for years. It could bankrupt him if people stopped buying his potions or the Aurors began investigating him on a bogus charge. Once his name was cleared, he may not have much left of his name, his business, or life.

Was she screwing up Ron’s life, or Severus’?

“I don’t know what he did to you,” Ron turned Hermione’s head to him and looked into her eyes. “But we’ll fix it. We’re going to make everything better.”

“Stop, just stop!” She pulled herself away from Ron. “He didn’t do a thing to me.”

“No, he must have,” Ron looked into her eyes. “Your pupils, they’re kind of dilated. Yes, they are somewhat dilated.”

“They are not.” She stepped back. “I’m fine.”

“She’s fine,” Severus cut in.

“Shut up!” Ron retorted before returning his attention to her. His voice softened, as if he were speaking to a child. “It’s okay; I don’t know what he did to you or what he’s threatening you with, but it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Just come with me, and you'll be okay. He won't ever hurt you again.”

“I would never sexually assault a woman!” Severus’ shouted.

“You were a Death Eater! You would do anything to get what you want!”

“Stop!” She threw up her hands. “Severus did nothing to me.”

“No, he must have. Otherwise, you wouldn't behave this way.” Ron grabbed Hermione’s arm and yanked her towards him again. “Come on. We’re going to take you to St. Mungo’s. They’ll get this all sorted out.”

“There’s nothing to sort out because he didn’t do anything to me.” She stepped back and attempted to break away. Instead, Ron’s grip tightened. “Stop it! You’re hurting me!”

“It’s okay; you’re coming with me. We’re going to cure you.”

“I don’t need to be cured.”

“No, I’m going to cure you.” He yanked her towards the fireplace as if she were a rag doll.

“That is quite enough, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron stopped in his tracks. Severus was blocking his way, his wand pointed at Ron’s throat. In a dark voice, he continued. “She told you to let her go because you are hurting her. I strongly suggest you do so.”

“Oh, so now you’re defending her.”

“I’m telling you to let her go before there are dire consequences,” Severus growled.

“No,” Ron snapped as Hermione let out a whine.

“You’re hurting her.” Severus’ voice was even, his eyes dark. For a moment, Hermione could see the Death Eater he had been, the one capable of killing with the wave of a wand and feeling no remorse for it. “Let her go. Now.”

“I’m not hurting her.” Ron released Hermione’s arm and pointed to Severus. “You are.”

Severus remained impassive.

“He didn’t hurt me.” Hermione waved her arm, noting that there would be bruises in the morning.

“Yes, he is. That’s the only explanation for why you were snogging him as if you were a couple of farm animals.” Tears were forming in Ron’s eyes. “That’s the only explanation of why you would cheat on me with him.”

“No.” Her throat tightened as her eyes moistened. “He didn’t poison me or give me a love potion. I promise you, he did not hurt me.”

“Yes, he did,” Ron squeaked. “It’s the only explanation for why you would behave this way.”

Hermione’s stomach churned. In the scenarios she’d created in her head, Ron just left in disgust. She wouldn’t need to see the pain she was causing him. It wasn’t supposed to hurt him, not like this.

“You, you would never do this to me. You would not kiss another man,” Ron squeaked. "You'd never do that to me." 

Hermione glanced at Severus. He lowered his wand, yet his eyes were in her direction. There was still a chance to say it was a moment of weakness, a moment where she had lost her mind. If she confessed everything, there would be something left to salvage. This could end right now if she wanted.

Yet Ron had made it clear he didn’t want a non-magical wife. He was clear on that point. Until she received her cure, this was what was best for everyone.

“Hermione?” He whispered.

“I…” She took a deep breath and steeled herself for his reaction. “I have not been honest with you these past few days.”

“Okay,” Ron choked.

“When we had that fight last Thursday, I was distraught. Severus came over, and we began talking.”

“Yes, I walked in on that.” Ron shook.

“When you left…” She swallowed the bile racing up her throat. “We went to his house and continued talking. The longer we talked, the more I realized that I’d been attracted to him for years. I couldn’t ignore my feelings for him any longer.”

“You couldn’t ignore your feelings?”

“Yes, I, uh, realized,” she shifted her foot. “I realized I was more attracted to him than I was to you.”

“What?” Ron’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I couldn’t resist him anymore,” Hermione’s voice was stronger. “I brushed my lips against his, and one thing led to another…”

“No,” Ron hissed. “You wouldn’t do that to me. You would never cheat on me, not like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “My affair with Severus began on Thursday night and has been continuing since then.”

“No.” He shook his head. “None of this makes any sense. You were in love with me. You only love me. You told me that so many times. You don’t love him. Now…now you expect me to believe you’ve been carrying on a relationship with him for the last week?”

“Yes.”

A tear fell down Ron’s cheek.

“I…” She shook. “I’m so sorry. I tried to fight my feelings. I told Severus what we did was a mistake and swore him to secrecy. Then my parents came over, and you and Dad were fighting so much. When he came to my room to ask how I was, I realized I didn’t want him to be a one-night stand.”

“So he wasn’t?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“So that’s it?” Ron hissed. “A few kisses and you’re ready to drop your pants for him?”

She bowed her head. “I'm sorry.”

“No.” Ron shook his head. “You, you wouldn’t do this…not to me.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked, still unable to look into his eyes.

“No,” his voice was louder. “This isn’t like you. None of this is like you!”

“Do not hold this against Hermione. She did her best to fight the growing attraction between us." Severus stumbled towards her. “Still, neither of us could resist each other.”

“Shut up, you greasy git!”

“Don’t call him a greasy git!” Hermione grabbed Severus’ hand, causing him to startle. “He’s not a greasy git! He’s a handsome, sexually attractive man. More importantly, he is a kind, considerate, polite, and wonderful man.”

“Oh gods, Hermione.” Ron covered his ears as tears streamed down his eyes. “You don’t mean that. You don’t mean any of this.”

“I do.” She moved closer to Severus. “I am attracted to Severus. I find him much more sexually appealing than you.”

Ron’s lips contorted into a twisted smile. “So that’s it then? Rita was right about you then. You’re nothing more than a vapid whore.”

“Hermione is not a vapid whore.” Severus pulled her closer to him. “She is an amazing woman who is worthy of your respect.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me about respect!” Tears streamed down Ron’s face despite his contorted smile. “You wouldn’t know respect if it came and bit you in the arse.”

“He respects me,” Hermione put an arm around Severus. “Unlike you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you shout over me when I share my opinions, you are rude to my parents, you won’t shut up about Quidditch even when I want to talk about something else, you refuse to discuss my interests with me, and you talk with your mouth full.”

“So your answer to these problems was not to talk to me but to fuck him?”

She swallowed and clung to Severus.

“I… I don’t know what’s going on, but we can work this out.” Ron held out his hand. “Let’s just go to my house, have you cook us a nice dinner, and we can talk this out.”

“No.” She embraced Severus tighter. “I can’t live this life anymore. I want Severus, not you.”

Ron stumbled back, as if someone had punched him.

“I’m sorry things ended this way, but things with Severus are much easier. Unlike you, he likes books, doesn’t find my hobbies boring, listens to my opinions without arguing, and has impeccable table manners.”

“Only because he wants you! The second he doesn’t want you, he’ll abandon you. I'll bet his table manners won't be so great anymore either.”

“If he wants me, he has me.” Hermione kissed Severus’ cheek for emphasis.

“You…” Ron pointed at Hermione. “You, you don’t mean any of this.”

“I do.” Hermione raised her voice. “I’m choosing Severus over you.”

“You…” Ron’s face was as red as his hair. “You are going to regret this.”

“Is that a threat?” Severus stepped towards Ron, shielding Hermione with his body.

“It’s a promise,” Ron replied. “I’m going to make sure you regret ever laying eyes on that greasy git.”

“Nothing could ever make me regret knowing Severus,” she argued. “And he isn’t a greasy git.”

“You’ll pay,” he pointed to Hermione. “You will both pay.”

With a CRACK, Ron disappeared.

For a moment, a suffocating silence engulfed the room.

“Are you still certain you still want to go through with this plan?” Severus asked. “If you chase after him and explain what occurred, you may be able to salvage what’s left of your relationship.

Hermione took one look at him. No, she had to do this. If she didn’t, Ron may go after Severus harder, believing that her love potion had run out. Severus would be more despised than he already was. No matter what happened, she couldn’t allow him to be more hurt than he already was. If she stayed with him, people would see that she wasn't poisoned. They would know that Severus genuinely cared for her. They'd know that they were friends and cared for each other.

She took a gasp of air before burying her head in his robes. Then she began to weep, knowing that whatever happened, she could never undo what she had just done. 

Chapter Text

No woman had ever cried into Severus’ robes. Granted, most of the time when women wept around him, it was because he had hurt them or had been powerless to prevent any harm from befalling them. While he didn’t go out of his way to be cruel to his partner or lead her to believe that their relationship would be deeper than a few romps in the hay, he had a sharp tongue and surly nature. These alone made him incapable of maintaining a healthy relationship. Every time he got close to someone, they either stormed away from him or cursed the day they'd first heard his name. 

Despite all this, Hermione had chosen him for his faux lover.

Granted, they were neighbors and friends first. A relationship between them wasn't unfathomable from that perspective. Still, that didn’t make him fake boyfriend material. It was shocking enough that he knew to keep his mouth shut and just hold her as her tears wetted his robes. If he did or said anything more, it would only expose how shite he was at any kind of relationship.

“I… I knew he’d be upset.” She gasped for air. “I just, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t think he’d attack or accuse you of such a heinous crime.”

He sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry he said those heinous things about you. It was wrong. I mean, he sells love potions, and you refuse to manufacture them. How could he ever think you were a rapist?”

“He thinks I’m nothing more than a Death Eater.” He rubbed her back. "He wouldn't be the first person to believe I'm incapable of every atrocity under the sun."

"But you aren't. You're a brilliant, kind, and courageous man. You would never hurt a woman if you could avoid it."

"Sadly, I could not avoid it, something of which Mr. Weasley was all too aware."

“It was still wrong for him to say anything like that. I—I’m so sorry.”

He hummed.

“He was so angry. He hurt you." She sobbed.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You shouldn’t have been hurt. It's my fault that you were. You should never have been hurt.”

“I’ve had worse injuries.”

She whined.

“I promise you, I’ll be fine.” He rubbed her back harder.

“I’ve never seen him like that. I mean, he threatened me.”

“Has he ever threatened you before?”

“No,” her teary eyes met his. “He’s never threatened me. Even as a teenager, he never threatened to harm me, at least not like he did tonight.”

Severus untangled his left arm from her and reached into his pocket. Then, he pulled out a handkerchief. She nodded before taking it and blowing her nose.

“I didn’t think it would be that bad. I mean, I knew he’d leave. I knew it would hurt because I love him. Even after everything, I still love him.”

“You can still return to him.” Severus released her. “There’s still time to admit that this was all a ruse. You can say you panicked upon receiving your diagnosis, so you talked me into helping you pretend you were cheating. You can admit all this was a misguided attempt to save him the trouble of watching you go through treatments that may prove futile. There’s time to explain what occurred tonight and make it right.”

“No.” Her eyes hardened as she lowered her handkerchief. “I’m doing the right thing. Even though it hurts, I know I cannot be with him, not until we find a cure.”

He opened his mouth.

“Don’t say we won’t find a cure!” She snapped.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Oh,” she swallowed.

“I was going to say it’s difficult to get some words and images out of one’s head. Kissing me may be one of them.”

“I know," she croaked.

“Even if you find a cure, you were quite,” He bit his lip, “enthusiastic with me.”

“I didn’t mean to be so enthusiastic.” She blushed. “I got caught up in the moment. I didn't mean to take things too far.”

“You didn't take things too far at all. You were fine,” he replied.

Silence fell between them.

“I… I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“No.” His heart skipped a beat at the memory of her body melting into his, her soft lips capturing his, the aroma of her strawberry shampoo. “I was quite comfortable in your arms.”

“Good. For the record.” Her lips twitched up, “You are a marvelous kisser.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the first woman to say that about me.”

“No other woman has said you’re a good kisser?”

“Let’s just say they all left before I could give them a survey asking how I did and what I could improve upon.”

She let out a small chuckle. He relaxed.

“I know I shouldn’t be amused.” She took a shaky breath. “Yet I’ve always enjoyed your sense of humor.”

“Why? Most women hate it.”

She shrugged. “It’s you, and it’s consistent. Sure, you have a sharp tongue, but you make the most astute observations. Since moving next door to me, you haven’t used your sharp tongue to hurt me. I enjoy laughing with you.”

“Once again, few women have said that about me.”

“Some women don’t appreciate a good man.” She took a deep breath and continued in a soft voice, “Except me apparently, or perhaps I don’t appreciate the good men in my life either.”

There was a pang of sympathy in his chest. It was bad enough that she was sick. Now she had tied herself to a dungeon bat. If she did not stop making questionable decisions, her life would be as mucked up and lonesome as his was. While he would remain by her side, in time it would become clear that he was more trouble than he was worth. She may very well have just made a mistake that would cost her any future happiness, and she had no intention of rectifying it.

“So, uh.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t thought very far ahead to my next move.”

“You could return to Ron and explain everything," he suggested.

She paled. “Are you trying to back out?”

“No, but I want to make it clear to you that you can,” his voice was gentle. “You still have time to admit everything and make this as right as you can.”

“I’m not going to do that. After seeing his reaction tonight, I can't go back to him.”

“Fine, but be aware, Mr. Weasley will tell your friends what you have done. They will have their own questions and conclusions about us. You must be ready for their reactions.”

“I know,” she said, shaking. “I think I can convince Harry to remain my friend. Luna won’t be happy about us, but she tends to be nonjudgmental. As for the Weasleys, well, I don’t think dinner at the Burrow is happening in the near future.”

“I agree.”

“They’ll all hate me.” She put her head in her hand. “They will all despise me.”

His throat dried.

“But they’ll understand when it’s all said and done. In fact,” Another tear fell from her cheek. “They may thank me for freeing Ron just long enough to restore my magical core.”

“Are you certain that they’ll just take you back as if nothing has occurred?”

“I’m certain they will. Arthur cares about me like a daughter. George and Ginny tend to take my side in conflicts. Granted, Ginny isn't invited to the Burrow very often anymore, but she'd still support me. Charlie and Bill could be persuaded to come around and see my side of the story. Percy never cared about me one way or the other, so his opinion is irrelevant.”

“And Molly?”

She bit her lip harder and shifted her eyes downwards.

“We know how she is with a howler and when she feels someone has crossed her children. The kinds of things she said about you when you were a fourth year were atrocious. I doubt she’s mellowed out over the years, not when it comes to someone hurting her sons anyway. How are we going to handle her?” He asked.

“We?”

He moistened his lips. “I’ve gone too far into this plan to back out now. I may as well see it through with you.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “Your support means a lot to me.”

“Don't thank me yet. I haven’t done much else other than kiss you.”

“And you took me to a healer’s appointment and are going to help me find a cure. Those are huge reasons to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until we find a cure.”

“We will.” Her eyes betrayed her doubt.

He hummed.

“As for Molly,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to take her some time, but if she can forgive the whole Viktor Krum thing, she can forgive me for this…eventually.”

“Eventually is the key word.”

“It will take some time, but that shouldn’t be our concern now.” She straightened her posture. “We need to make sure people are convinced we’re together. That means we need to plan our first date.”

He blinked.

“What? You didn’t think we’d forgo dating, did you?”

“No, but you just broke up with your boyfriend, and you’re jumping right to dating another man. Some would argue that reflects poorly on you.”

“I know. It’s cruel; it’s heartless, but…” She took a deep breath. “I just need to go forward. If I spend too much time thinking about what happened tonight, I’m going to break down again or back out. I just want to focus on the future.

“You need time to absorb everything that happened, though.”

“I know I do, but,” she bowed her head. “I can’t right now. I just can’t think about everything that’s happened. I don’t want to.”

“It’s all going to catch up to you.”

“I know.“ She shuddered. “I know it will probably all come back to me at night when I’m alone. That’s when everything tends to come crashing down on me.”

“Are you sure you should be alone?”

She looked up.

“Do you think it’s wise to be alone tonight?” He asked in a firmer voice.

“I don’t know.” She glanced around. “All I know is I don’t want to be alone, not tonight, not after all this. Perhaps I’ll get a hotel room so it feels like people are near me. There have to be a few that would allow Crookshanks.”

“What if I told you that was unnecessary?”

She met his eyes.

Severus put a hand on her shoulder, praying he knew what he was doing. “If you would like to do so, you may stay in my guest bedroom. You wouldn’t be alone with your thoughts, at least not completely. If someone visited you in the morning, they would see us together.”

“They would think I spent the night.”

“Yes. Nobody would need to know you were in the guest bedroom, assuming you want to be there.”

“Your guest bedroom isn’t horrid.”

“It is hardly a five-star hotel.”

“It’s cozy.”

“It’s functional anyway.”

She swallowed.

“In the morning I could make breakfast for you, meaning you could conserve your magic and reduce the risk of injury," he replied.

“Yes, even healthy I wouldn’t trust myself around magical devices when I’m this upset. Even before Bellatrix’s curse, my magic was unpredictable when I was under stress.”

“In my experience, only experienced occlumens can use magic properly when stressed.”

“Is that why you occlude so often?”

“Amongst other reasons.”

“You know.” A small smile graced her face. “I could learn occlumency from you when my magic returns.”

“Assuming you’re still speaking to me when all is said and done,” he replied.

“We will still be on speaking terms.” She folded her hands. “Thank you again for everything. You are helping me out more than you could imagine. I’ll never forget this.”

“I just hope you don’t come to regret this.”

“If I do, I’ll remind myself that doing the right thing isn’t always easy. Yet, it’s always necessary.”

“There may be some truth to that.” He removed his hand from her shoulder.

“I would like to think so.” She backed away, becoming a silhouette in the darkness. “Th-thank you again. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“I do not need anything other than the assurance you are living your best life.”

“I promise to do that.” Her footsteps moved away. Then they fell silent. “You know, my parents will be thrilled I’m dating you. They say you’re the only sensible wizard they’ve ever met. At least there are two people on our side.”

“Indeed.” He stood.

“Let me get my stuff.” Her voice was to his right. Then, she said in a soft voice, “And once again, thank you.”

He hummed before tipping his head. Once her footsteps were in the bathroom, he put a hand on his forehead.

Hermione had just destroyed her life, and she was doing it all with a smile. She couldn’t see how difficult it would be to rebuild the relationships she’d just shattered, assuming she ever could. All he could do was remain by her side, hoping he could catch her when she fell.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you walked in on Hermione snogging Snape?” Harry’s eyes were as wide as a blunger, his face as pale as death. This conversation couldn't be happening. It was impossible, wasn't it?

“I walked in on them in each other’s arms, sucking face like they didn’t have a care in the world. Hermione was acting as if I never existed, as if she never loved me,” Ron fumed as he stomped from one end of Harry’s living room to the other, his arms flailing about. “Hermione was supposed to go to dinner with me. I came to her house early just to show her I was capable of putting her wants first. Turns out, she was counting on me being late so she could have a quickie with Snape!”

“No.” Harry shook his head to expel the image of Snape’s greasy hands all over his best friend. His success was limited. “This doesn’t make any sense. Hermione has only loved you and only you since we were teens. You were all she ever talked about, the only man she ever wanted.”

“Yes, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to invite Snape over right when she was going to meet you within fifteen minutes,” Luna sat on the burgundy sofa next to Harry. “She would have had the sense to wait until she knew you were gone before inviting Snape over.”

“In other words, she would’ve been more careful in not exposing her affair!”

“Hermione has always been careful. She wouldn't invite Snape over if she knew there was any possibility of being caught.”

Ron stopped and glared at her. “You aren’t helping.”

“No, she has a point.” Harry sat straighter. “Hermione is too careful to invite Snape over for a makeout session right before she was meant to meet you. On time or not, she knew you were coming. She would’ve been too careful to allow you to catch her cheating.”

“Are you saying I didn’t understand what was going on?” Ron shouted.

“No,” Harry put his hands on his lap. “But this whole Snape thing is odd. Hermione has only loved you for as long as we’ve known her. A few times she even said it was love at first sight. Granted, you two fought, but you two always made up. She told me she would never love a man other than you.”

“Well, apparently she now loves Snape.”

“Even if she does love him—which may not be true—why would she be kissing him in your bedroom right before you two were to meet?” Luna asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe she just couldn’t get enough of Snape. I mean, there were signs something was happening, but I ignored them because I trusted her!”

“What signs?”

“There was an incident that happened a few days ago.” Ron’s face reddened. “Her stupid parents came over for dinner on Friday. For some reason, she invited Snape too. She said it was to keep her parents busy, and boy, did he ever! Her father couldn’t stop gushing about how amazing he was. Then, he wouldn’t stop talking to him, even when I had some great insights. At first I thought it was because they were both gits who liked Muggle things I couldn’t understand. Then, Hermione got upset because Snape’s Patronus is a mole, and I laughed at it. I made a few jokes, and everyone got all bent out of shape about it.”

“His Patronus changed?” Harry’s stomach churned.

“It’s a stupid mole.” Ron snickered. “It looks so stupid. The man is so weak, yet…” He ground his teeth together. “He’s with ‘Mione.”

“What happened after you mocked his Patronus?” Luna asked.

“She ran out. The greasy git chased after her to say goodbye because he couldn’t take a few jokes. Merlin the man is weak and way too sensitive! First he couldn't tolerate the Marauders, and now he's upset because somebody pointed out that his Patronus is stupid.”

“Let's ignore Snape's Patronus for a minute. Why didn’t you chase after Hermione?” Luna asked.

“You know Hermione. She sometimes gets emotional over nothing. It leads to fights. Then we make up. It’s our pattern. We like it, even if I wish she’d stop getting emotional over the smallest things, like stupid Snape getting his feelings hurt.” Ron shrugged.

“Being so dismissive of her emotions isn’t helping the situation,” Luna noted.

“Oh, lay off it.” Ron rolled his eyes. “I’m not dismissive of her emotions, just telling you how she is. She is overly emotional over nothing half the time, then gets angry when people call her on it.”

“Perhaps if you’d validated her feelings more, she wouldn’t have turned to Snape.”

“Are you blaming me?” Ron roared.

“I’m saying you weren’t perfect in the relationship.” Luna was unfazed.

Ron opened his mouth.

“You were telling us how she ran off and Snape followed her,” Harry interjected.

“Oh yes, the greasy git and his stupid friend Wilford.” Ron made two fists. “The greasy git was in there with Hermione forever, long enough for her dumb father to feel he needed to check in on her. So he did. He returned with this grin, like he knew something nobody else did. He was so smug, like he’d won the Quidditch World Cup or whatever dumb Muggle sport he likes. When Hermione and the greasy git came back, Snape stayed for dinner. Her parents paid more attention to him than me, almost as if he was her boyfriend and I was the unwelcome, uninvited guest!”

“That had to be frustrating,” Harry’s voice was gentle.

“It was humiliating!” Ron yelled. “God, I hate her parents! They probably knew Snape was snogging her! They may even know that they were sleeping together! They didn’t tell me because they are stupid and they hate me! They are probably laughing at me right now.”

“Calling Hermione’s parents names is not helping the situation,” Luna cut in.

“Whose side are you on?” Ron snapped.

“Nobody’s. I’m only trying to piece together what may have happened.”

“Then stop standing up for people I hate!”

“I’m not standing up for anyone. I'm just making observations.”

“Well, stuff your observations up your ass!”

“All I’m trying to do is figure out why Hermione would want to get caught snogging Snape.”

“Want to get caught?”

Luna nodded. “I think Hermione wanted you to see her and Snape together.”

“Why would she want that?” Harry exclaimed.

“I don’t know,” Luna rubbed her swollen belly. “All I know is that her aura has changed recently. There’s a dark energy around her that wasn’t there before.”

“That dark energy is called cheating on the man who wanted to propose to you,” Ron spat.

“Yes, but something drove her to cheat.”

“She said Snape hadn’t put an Imperius curse on her.”

“And I don’t think he did.”

“How would you know whether he did or not?” Ron demanded.

“Because Snape isn’t that kind of person,” Luna winced from a hard kick within her.

“How do you know what kind of person Snape is?” Ron threw up his hands. “He was a double spy. Now, he lives in his house, only talking to Hermione about confusing potions and boring journal articles. Nobody knows who he is or what he cares about other than potions and being annoying.”

“He seemed to love my mum,” Harry chimed in. “It’s difficult to imagine that he’d ever move on from her, not with how deeply he loved her.”

“People do move on all the time,” Luna noted.

“With the best friend of their dead crush's son?”

“I don’t know if he’s quite moved on to Hermione yet.” Luna twisted her lips. “Still, I don’t think this was an accident.”

“No, it happened because Hermione wasn’t careful!” Ron yelled.

“No, this was planned. There’s something she doesn’t want us to know. Snape is in on it.”

“And what does she have planned other than to cheat on me?”

“I don’t know. Whatever she’s hiding must be important, though.”

“And it doesn’t involve me.” Ron bowed his head as his eyes watered. “She wanted that stupid greasy git around, but not me.”

Harry stood and embraced his friend. “I’m sorry she did this to you, Mate.”

“I can’t believe I gave my heart to her.” Tears trickled down his eyes. “I, I was going to propose to her tonight.”

“I know,” Harry whispered. “We thought we’d be hearing about your wedding plans tonight, not this.”

“I just don’t know what happened.” Ron gasped. “Hermione was everything to me. Yes, we fought, but arguing was our love language. We loved fighting over everything. I loved her so much. Then she just, she does this!”

“I know,” Harry tightened his embrace while Ron continued to cry on his shoulder.

“I never thought she’d cheat on me. We talked about having babies. We were supposed to have a big family, one as large as mine is. I—I thought that’s what she wanted.”

“We all thought she wanted a large family with you.”

“Yes, we did.” Luna strolled over and began rubbing Ron’s back.

“I just don’t understand how Hermione could be so heartless and leave me for Snape,” Ron sobbed.

“I don’t know either,” Harry replied.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” Luna whispered. “Somehow, we’ll all get through it.”

“I just hope Hermione has fun with the git, because she’s going to pay.”

“Ron, you don’t mean that,” Luna answered.

“I do.” He stuck up his head. A fire consumed his eyes. “She’s going to regret ever setting eyes on him. I’m going to bash her in the papers and let everyone know what a whore she is. When that’s over, I’ll make sure all our friends know what kind of person they’re dealing with. Then, the greasy git will leave her because he hates everyone and is incapable of love. She’ll be alone and have nobody to blame but herself!”

“How about you wait a few days before blasting Hermione in the papers?” Luna suggested.

He snarled at her. “Why?”

“I think there’s more to this story. If she is under a potion or if there is some kind of plan to hide something, you need to hear her out.”

Ron blinked. “Do you think she’s being blackmailed?”

“I don’t know, but we need to see what is happening before we drag her name through the mud.”

Ron grunted. “I’ll give her two days to admit everything. After that, I’m going to the papers and telling them what a whore she is.”

“Fine,” she answered.

“In the meantime,” Ron’s’ eyes watered again as he squeaked, “What am I going to do without her? She was everything to me. Now, I have nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered.

“It isn’t fair,” Ron wailed before weeping anew. “None of this is fair.”

“No, it isn’t.” Luna stilled her hand, knowing what her next move would be and hoping it would succeed before anyone else was more hurt than they already were.

***

Hermione resumed crying the second she entered Severus’ guest bedroom, the weight of the day crashing in on her. It was surreal to be in the house of a man she didn’t love, hoping everyone believed she had left the love of her life for him. Then again, after having magic for so long, it was surreal for that to disappear too. When had life become so absurd?

“Hermione?”

She wiped her tears away before turning around. Severus stood in the doorway, levitating two cups of tea. He cleared his throat. “Would you like some peppermint tea? It calms me down when I have had a stressful day. Perhaps it will work for you too.”

She nodded, wondering how many cups of peppermint tea he needed to get through a class at Hogwarts. Before she could meditate on the question, one floated before her. She took it. “Thank you.”

“It is no trouble.” He kept his eyes in her direction. “Do not worry about putting the cup away. You can put it on the nightstand and give it to me in the morning.”

“Thank you, and not just for the tea.” Her throat tightened. “Thank you for agreeing to do this and letting me stay here.”

“It was the only decent thing to do. You shouldn’t be alone,” he answered.

“You shouldn’t have been alone either.”

He hummed before turning to the doorway.

“I hate to ask you for anything more, but could you stay with me?” Her voice was that of a child afraid of the dark.

He looked in her direction.

“I don’t want to be alone right now. My thoughts are racing, and I’m not sure how to sort everything out. We don’t have to talk. I’m not sure I want to talk anyway. Still, I would appreciate not being alone.”

He sat beside her.

“Thank you.” She took a sip of her tea.

“Indeed.” He took a sip of his tea.

In silence they drank their tea, taking comfort that despite everything, they weren’t alone tonight.

Chapter Text

Muffled voices penetrated Hermione’s consciousness. Yawning, she pried her eyes open. The door before her was closed. Odd, given that she always kept hers open just in case Ron stumbled in drunk from a night out. Her body ran cold at the sight of the forest green comforter and white sheets. The bed was firmer than hers, and the walls were a much starker white than she was accustomed to. Then there were the silver curtain darkeners, reminding her that the room was functional and nothing else.

It took a few moments for the realization that this was not her room to dawn upon her and that she was here because she didn't want to be alone. Memories of the night before flooded her consciousness. Ron’s screams and the way he yanked her arm were just as real now as they had been the night before. They stopped with the memory of Severus sipping tea with her. While they didn’t say much to each other, knowing he was there gave her the comfort to fall into a dreamless sleep.

Now, she could hear Severus speaking to another woman. Although he was too much of a gentleman to shout, tension was evident in his voice.

Her stomach sank at the thought that he may have had a girlfriend that he had never mentioned. She may be on the other end of the door, irate that another woman was in his guest bedroom.

How could she not have known that he was seeing someone? No, Severus was too loyal to dump a woman to agree to a fake relationship. Had he been dating someone, broken up with her, and now she wanted him back? If so, why had he said nothing about her before? Was he turning her down because he’d promised to help Hermione through her condition?

Was it wise for them to continue this charade? The last thing she wanted was to destroy his chances of being loved, not that she wasn't already putting a large dent into them. Very few people would want to date the man who had shattered the Golden Trio, unless they saw him as a challenge. Sometimes women appreciated stealing a man from a cheater, just so she felt the same way she'd made her partner feel. Plenty of women flirted with Ron just to prove they were more attractive than her. Would a woman begin flirting with Severus? If so, was it fair to stand in his way of being happy with her?

“I can feel the fire furyflies around you,” the woman’s voice continued.

“You’re right, I am becoming quite irritated with the direction this conversation has taken,” Severus’ voice was low.

Hermione’s eyes grew. This wasn’t a strange woman, but rather someone she knew quite well. Somehow, Luna had discovered she was at Severus’ house and wanted to check up on them. Now was as good a time as ever to put her plan into motion, even if the thought of lying to Luna churned her stomach.

“No, fire furyflies don’t attack irritated people. They come over someone who is protecting another person," Luna argued.

Hermione cracked open the door, deciding against wearing anything other than her burgundy negligee. If she was going to do this, she needed to go all the way.

“If you do not leave, you are the one who will need protecting.” His voice grew louder as she approached.

“You won’t hurt me,” Luna answered. “But you are protecting someone from something.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m protecting myself from a migraine.”

“Severus.” Hermione strolled over, got onto her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. He startled, though he did not scowl. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

“It’s eight, which is hardly early.” He regained his composure and kissed her on the cheek.

“That’s sleeping in for me.”

“Indeed it is.” He embraced her, a hint of a smile gracing his face.

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Luna.” Hermione turned to her friend before returning Severus’ embrace. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Yes,” she drawled. “I went to your house, but you were not there. I figured if you weren’t there, you must be here.”

“Yes, I spent the night here...”

“Indeed she did.” Severus reached out his hand slowly until it reached the edge of her hair. Then, he took a tendril and twirled it around his finger.

“You two are quite affectionate,” Luna noted.

“Of course we are.” Hermione put her head on Severus’ shoulder. “We are partners now.”

“Partners?”

“Yes, we’re partners in everything.”

"Everything?"

"Yes, romance, reading, the neighborhood watch, everything."

“And you're happy?”

“Yes, we’re happy we no longer need to see each other in secret.”

“And how long have you been seeing each other in secret?”

“A few months.” Severus removed his finger from her hair.

“So you’ve been planning to dump Ron for months?” Luna asked.

“I…” She paled as her stomach constricted.

"Why didn't you dump him before you kissed Severus?

Her voice was quieter. “I was afraid of how he’d react. I didn’t want to hurt Ron, but my feelings for Severus were intensifying. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t resist him any longer.”

Luna hummed. “I’m sure you couldn’t.”

“I didn’t want to push Hermione to make a decision,” Severus answered. “In fact, I was at her house last night telling her that we couldn’t continue our affair.”

“I couldn’t stand the idea of losing Severus, so I begged him to stay and kissed him. Things got a little heated, and…” She brushed Severus’ lips. “We’re together now.”

“And did you two sleep together?” Luna cocked her head.

Hermione twisted her lips.

“Mrs. Potter,” he pressed Hermione against his chest. “I hardly think that is an appropriate question. What we do is our business and nobody else’s.”

“No, it is not anyone else’s business.” Luna squinted. “You two don’t look like you’re in love.”

“What do you mean?” A shiver went down Hermione’s spine.

“I mean, you don’t light up in Snape’s arms the way you did when Ron walked into a room. Then again,” Luna shrugged, “your eyes haven't lit up when he walks into a room in years, so perhaps that is how you are now.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione swallowed.

“I don't think you and Ron haven’t been in love with each other for quite some time,” Luna observed. “I think your love died years ago, but you were too comfortable and afraid to admit it.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione untangled herself from Severus. “Why did you think I didn’t love Ron?”

Luna scratched her chin. “You two argued more often than not, and the fights were always so vicious. Sometimes, I wondered how you prevented your throat from hurting.”

Hermione opened her mouth, only for the words to remain lodged in her mind, unable to escape.

“I know you said arguing was your love language, but at some point, you needed to find something to agree upon, even if it was just where to live.”

“We were in the process of agreeing upon that,” Hermione’s voice was slow.

“But then you began kissing Severus, so clearly you still disagreed on that matter.”

She swallowed as her eyes fell on the ground.

“Is there a point to this interrogation?” Severus pressed Hermione against him, as if to shield her from Luna's words.

“I want to know what occurred last night,” Luna replied. “Harry and Ron are distraught… and are much less willing to listen than I am.”

“I…” She met Luna’s eyes. “I know Harry must be upset, but I hope we can remain friends.”

“Being honest with him would be a good start.”

“I know I lied about Severus and being with him while I was with Ron…”

“No, you’re lying about being with him now.”

Hermione’s throat tightened.

“I can see it in your eyes. You may not love Ron anymore, but you do not love Severus,” Luna bit her lip. “At least not yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Luna shrugged. “I don’t know. Your aura is faded, but your sense of peace is obvious. I think you and Severus could be compatible if you give each other a real chance.”

“I’m willing to give Hermione whatever chance I can.” He stroked her hair again.

“And I’m willing to give Severus whatever he needs.” She rubbed his back, only to withdraw her hands once she felt him tense.

“You two will need that kind of commitment.” Luna straightened her posture. “Ron is out for revenge. He wants to destroy your reputation and drag your name through the mud.”

She swallowed. “What is Harry’s reaction to all that?”

“He is upset with you, but he can be reasoned with, though that will take some time.”

A chill raced up Hermione’s side.

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley need to watch themselves.” Severus furrowed his eyebrows. “I will not tolerate anyone attacking Hermione or smearing her name. She does not deserve any heartache for her unfortunate taste in men.”

“I agree, but they do not see it that way.”

“Then perhaps they need an attitude adjustment.”

“I will do what I can, but be aware, Ron is planning on going to the media soon and telling them everything about what occurred last night.”

“Why can’t he bugger off and give Hermione some peace?” Severus rubbed her back. “Merlin knows he never gave her a moment’s rest when she was with him.”

“Arguing…”

“Was their love language, I know, I know,” Severus huffed. “It was my parents’ love language too. That did not mean it was pleasant to endure on a nightly basis.”

Hermione met Severus’ eyes, catching the flash of vulnerability in them. Then she turned to Luna, whose eyes flickered in understanding.

“Yes, I understand now.” Luna’s eyes took on a dreamy quality.

“Understand what?” Hermione asked.

“You two aren’t ready to reveal why you’re together, but you will be ready someday. In the meantime,” Luna gave them a genuine smile. “I am happy you two found a relationship that could give you both peace. Everyone needs that.”

“You should tell Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter that she deserves peace.”

“I will.”

Severus nodded.

“If you stay together, you could make amazing partners,” Luna answered. “The Amour Fairies are surrounding you, so the potential is there.”

“Luna, it’s much too early to define our relationship.”

“But one day you will find the right words for it.”

Severus twisted his lips.

“I will tell Harry that you deserve some peace. I cannot promise he won’t still be upset, but with time your friendship will be stronger than ever," Luna answered.

“I hope that day comes soon,” Hermione’s voice was quiet.

“It will. As for you.” Luna turned to Severus. “I’m glad you have someone who cares for you. That will help you in more ways than you realize. Perhaps with her help, you’ll finally be able to look into my eyes.”

Severus shook. “What do you mean?”

“It means you look in my direction, but not at me,” Luna replied. “Still, with Hermione’s help, you will be able to see the world again.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I must leave now. Goodbye.” Luna waved before strolling to the yard and apparating away.

For a moment, Hermione stared at the spot where Luna had been, her words sinking in.

Had she been miserable with Ron? No, she was happy with him! She wanted nothing more than to become Mrs. Granger-Weasley, at least she did before her magical core was damaged. So what if they argued at least twice a day? They loved arguing. Love meant disagreements would arise, even ones that resulted in not speaking to each other for a couple of days. Granted, her parents did not have such arguments and were always able to work things out without giving each other the silent treatment. Still, not everyone could be like them. Some people had to settle for less. Hermione was just one of those people.

“I apologize for her waking you up.” Severus flicked his wrist, shutting the door. “I tried to persuade her to leave, but she was insistent upon seeing you.”

“No, when Luna wants something, she won't leave until she gets it.”

“Indeed,” Severus released her. “The amount of physical contact, was it acceptable?”

“It was,” Hermione stretched. “It seemed to convince Luna that we were in some kind of romantic relationship.”

“And the parts she said about love?”

“No, that was taking things too far.” She took a couple of steps back. “I know how you feel about love. Given that I’m in love with another man and am doing this for his benefit, we are better off not saying love at all. It should be as far from our minds as possible.”

“Agreed.”

“That being said,” she scratched her side, “I think we need to be the first to break the news of our relationship.”

“To whom?” He stepped towards her, but his eyes were on her mouth, not her eyes. “It sounds as if Potter and Weasley already know.”

“But the press doesn’t. Ron wants to go to them before we do.”

“True.”

“I say we head him off at the pass. If we tell our story first, we can control the narrative better.”

“And how would you propose we do that?”

Hermione’s lips curled upwards. “How would you feel about going on a date to Giardino Di Ulivi?”

Chapter Text

Severus didn’t know how going to a fancy Italian restaurant proved he was in love with Hermione. Then again, what did he know about love? Most women only wanted him to take them to a motel room, one they would expel him from as soon as their transaction had concluded. Those who did take him on dates often took him to a seedy bar and left him alone as soon as they had gotten everything they wanted from each other. Why would a fake date treat him any better than a real date did?

A short statement from Hermione that she and Ron had broken up, she had found someone new, and everyone else needed to bugger off would have been sufficient. It would get the point across and not subject her to the humiliation of being seen in public with the snarkiest professor Hogwarts had ever known. Hermione insisted otherwise. If they were going to fake being in a relationship, they needed to do it properly.

Severus had no choice but to follow her lead. He had no idea how to be in a fake relationship, nor did he know how to be in a real relationship. Perhaps that's why he couldn't see the brilliance of Hermione's plan.

“Are you ready to go?” Hermione asked.

"I am." He glanced in her direction and squinted. Her royal purple dress was designed to bring out the natural highlights of her hair as well as the color in her soft caramel eyes. It seemed effective enough, at least from what he could see.

“Are those the robes you're going to wear?” She stepped closer, giving him a better view of her outfit. The tension left his muscles, and his lips twitched upwards. He wouldn’t dare tell her that she was as beautiful as he envisioned her to be.

“What is wrong with my clothes?” He demanded.

“Nothing, it's just," she paused, "they're just the ones you always wear."

“What an astute observation.”

She swallowed.

"Is there a problem with my clothing?"

"No, no," she shook her head. "I just didn't know if you wanted to wear anything different, a little more special, that's all."

“I am wearing my special robes.” He smoothed his frock coat. “I bought these robes a year ago. They are the newest ones I own.”

"Oh." She relaxed.

"Is there an issue with them?"

“No, not at all. I just, I guess I wondered if you only owned black robes."

“Yes, I only wear black robes."

She was quiet.

“I do not know what you expect from me.” He straightened his left sleeve. “I am not known for gallivanting around in pink.”

“No,” she chuckled. “Everyone would believe you’d fallen ill if you trotted around wearing pink.”

He flashed her a smile.

"I'm sorry, this whole robes thing is stupid. You look handsome."

"There's no need to lie."

"I'm not lying," she replied quicker than he'd anticipated. "Black is a great color on you."

"I would hope so, given I refuse to wear anything other than black," he answered. "Granted, I'm nothing to look at, but I am glad to know my clothing isn't horrendous."

"Oh, you're something to look at." Her eyes were wistful.

He raised an eyebrow.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I even mentioned your robes."

"Did you want me to wear something more special for you than my black robes?"

"I don't know." She put her head into her hands. "I'm screwing this up, aren't I?"

"No, you aren't."

"Yes, I am. This whole relationship is fake, and I'm talking about your clothing, like you have some sort of obligation to dress a certain way."

"Do you want me to look special for you, or do you want me to treat you like you're special? I know those two are not mutually exclusive, but I do wonder if you equate appearance to effort."

"I," she squirmed and wrung her hands, "I don't know."

"Trust me, I see the connection. I understand that dressing differently implies I'm making a greater effort for a woman. Still, I think my efforts are better spent giving you the most romantic meal of your life than dressing up and treating you like an arse."

She cracked a smile. "I would like to go on a date with someone who isn't being an arse, making rude comments about the other patrons, and picking fights with me the entire time."

"Then that is what you will receive." He extended his hand.

Her eyes glistened as she took his hand. “Would you like to apparate us to the restaurant?”

He twisted his lips. “Perhaps you should apparate us. I’ve never been before, and you can probably envision it better than I can.”

“Yes, but my magic may act up, which could land us in St. Mungo's rather than the restaurant."

"Good point." He scratched his chin. "Is there a nearby building that I would be more familiar with?"

"It's only four blocks west of Flourish and Botts."

"Then that's where we'll apparate."

"Thank you." She squeezed his hand.

He kissed her hand. "It is my absolute pleasure."

He couldn't help but smirk as she blushed. Perhaps he wasn't a knight in shining armor, but he could do his best to give her the best fake first date anyone could ask for.

All he needed to do was stay out of his own way.

***

It wasn’t until Severus had received his Asti from the waitress that the full weight of never having been on a proper date came crashing down on him. He had no idea what to say, what to do, or what to focus upon. Instead, he was seated across from a beautiful woman sweating like a first-year before his first potions test.

“So…” Hermione’s voice trailed off, allowing the mumbled sounds of the waiters to fill his consciousness.

“So?” he drawled.

“It's, uh, been a while since I’ve dated.” Her face was redder.

“What do you mean? You were with Weasley for almost seven years. Surely you went on a few dates with him.”

“I mean, we did date. We were going to go out on a date before Ron caught us together.”

“But?”

“But when it comes to first dates.” He could hear her scratching the table. “I haven’t had one of those in years.”

“Given that I have never been on a proper first date at all, it seems we are in a similar situation.”

“Great,” Hermione exhaled. “This plan is going to blow up in our faces because neither of us knows how to behave on a first date.”

“I apologize for being so inept.”

“No, no, you’re fine. You could be much worse anyway.”

“How?”

"I mean.” She paused. “You haven’t spent all night bragging about your uncle and his position in the Ministry. That’s an improvement over one of my first dates.”

“You haven’t vomited over my boots, which I appreciate.” His lips curled upwards. “That makes you an improvement over one of your first dates as well.”

“Cormac did do that, didn’t he?” She covered her mouth and laughed.

“Indeed, it took me the rest of the night to get the stains out.” He relaxed.

“Oh, that would be an awful way to witness a horrid first date.”

“No, the worst first date I had to witness was a Hogsmeade weekend. They were two fifth-years. It was clear the girl was quite interested in the boy. Unfortunately, he spent the entire time discussing his fantasies of kissing other men.”

“Oh my.” Hermione chuckled. “Whatever happened to them?”

“The last I heard, he and his husband bought a house in Malibu and have adopted a daughter. The girl is engaged to a marketing salesman out of New York.”

“You kept up with your former students?”

He shrugged. “I hear rumors about former students. When you’re used to spying and hiding in the background, you do pick up on a few things.”

“I can relate to being in the background,” her voice grew softer. “There have been many parties when Ron ran off with his friends, and I didn’t know many people. So, I was left standing alone while everyone else laughed and refused to look in my direction. I would listen to what they were saying, but I never knew how to jump in and add anything to the conversation.”

“That is every Ministry Ball I have ever attended.” Severus scratched the table. “There was one year when you, Minerva, and Potter were the only three people to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry nobody else spoke to you. It seems once peer groups are formed, it’s easy to forget anyone outside of them exists.”

“Indeed.”

“For what it’s worth, I did enjoy our conversations at the Ministry balls.”

He cleared his throat. “You would be the first to say that.”

“It’s true, though. You have a wit about you, and you always made interesting observations. After a while, I didn’t mind conversing with my neighbor at a Ministry ball.”

“I can say the same about you. Once one gets to know you, you are quite a pleasant conversationalist.”

“Thank you.”

“Still, I doubt I was ever the highlight of your evening.”

“Speaking with you was better than speaking with Viktor anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, if you want a good disaster first date story.” She leaned towards him. “My first date with Viktor involved him complaining about how too many women only like him because he’s a Quidditch star, then finding a way to turn every topic back to the sport.”

“That would be insufferable,” he answered.

“Insufferable doesn’t begin to cover it. Right before we kissed, he asked if I’d ever had borscht. When I asked him what it was, he said it’s what he thought I tasted like before he slobbered all over me.”

“I have eaten borscht,” Severus inhaled her lilac perfume. “I can honestly say you do not remind me of it in any way.”

“I hope that is a compliment.”

“It is.” Severus reached for her hand. “I can honestly say you don’t remind me of any type of food that has made me sick the next day.”

“Coming from you, that’s downright sweet.” She took his hand.

“I could sue you for slander for making such a terrible false accusation against me.”

“What, that you are sweet?”

“Indeed, I need to uphold my reputation as a greasy git. Thus calling me ‘sweet’ is nothing short of slander. I will never tolerate such accusations being made against me.”

“Why can’t you be called sweet? We aren’t fighting in a war anymore. You’re allowed to have a soul.”

“I have no soul.”

“I beg to differ.”

“No, I sold my soul for a vial of Felix Felicis during my sixth year.”

“You did?”

“No, but if I’d had the opportunity, I would’ve.”

“Well.” She raised his hand. “I am glad you didn’t sell your soul. I quite like it, and I quite like you.”

“You are not so detestable yourself," he admitted.

She laughed before kissing his hand.

The kiss sent a jolt through his body, heightening the aroma of her perfume and the sound of her soft breathing. The memory of her lips against his came flooding back. Dating Hermione was proving to be much more pleasant than he’d ever imagined.

A fly buzzed around Severus’ ear. His date released his hand and stood up, snatching it from the air. He looked in her direction as she put the insect between her fingers.

“Are you having fun?” Hermione asked.

“I am having a pleasant enough time.”

“I’m glad you are, but is she?”

“Who do you mean?”

“I mean this ordinary little fly.” She paused. “I wonder if she is having fun.”

“I wouldn’t have the foggiest clue," he drawled.

Severus felt a crackle of magic go through his body; a bright green flash of a muffliato spell surrounded him as well.

“I was wondering when we’d see you again, Rita,” Hermione continued.

“Rita?”

She let out a low chuckle. “Yes, Rita.”

“She’s an…”

“She is."

The fly buzzed as loudly as a cicada.

“Go tell The Daily Prophet that Severus and I are together now. We are very happy," Hermione answered.

The fly buzzed louder.

“Sadly, Ron and I could not work out our many differences, but Severus is an amazing lover and the perfect companion for me.”

The fly buzzed again.

She turned to Severus. “Do you have anything to say to Rita?”

He straightened his posture. “Hermione is an amazing, lovely woman. I am honored that she would so much as look in my direction. We are quite happy together and will remain so for many years to come.”

The fly buzzed again.

“You’d better record those words exactly,” she lowered her voice. “Or else you know what the consequences will be.”

The fly was silent.

At first, Severus wondered if she had squashed the fly and he’d spent the last few minutes hearing Hermione lose touch with reality. Still, when she released the fly, it flew away as quickly as it could.

Hermione raised her wand, but the magic sputtered. After two tries, Severus raised his wand and undid the spell.

“Thank you.” Her voice was softer.

“It was no trouble.” He leaned closer to her. “Are you certain that was Rita, though?”

A flash lit up the room, only to fade.

“Does that answer your question?” She asked.

“It does.” Severus stood, deciding that if this fake relationship was going to work, he may as well be as bold as possible. It was not as if he’d be hurt when it came to an end.

Hermione opened her mouth. Before she could say a word, Severus captured her lips. The cameras continued to flash, their shutters drowning out the sounds of the other patrons.

He broke away before smiling. “I can honestly say you do not taste like borscht.”

She whispered. “I can honestly say the same about you.”

Both of them stood in each other’s arms, ignoring the gasps and mutterings of the other patrons. He couldn’t make out what they were saying. All his attention was focused on Hermione and the feeling of her in his arms.

It was the most pleasant first date either of them had ever had.

Chapter Text

Severus’ white toast was halfway to his mouth when Hermione barged into his kitchen. He startled, dropping the toast onto his plate. There was a pang of regret in her chest. Her mother told her once that it was rude to enter your neighbor’s house without an invitation. Then again, her mother had never had a disease that could take away her livelihood. Under the circumstances, a little rudeness was acceptable.

“Have you seen the paper yet?” She waved her copy of The Daily Prophet in the air.

“No,” his eyes were in the direction of the paper, though they weren’t on it. Come to think of it, there was no paper on his table. Odd, given how much he enjoyed reading.

“Good, we can read it together then.” She sat across from him.

He straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Good morning, Severus. How are you today? I am well despite someone barging into my house and interrupting my breakfast. I hope your morning is going well too.”

“I’m glad you’re doing well. Now let’s get down to business.” She frowned before sliding her chair closer to the table as he took a bite of toast. “We have to know what Rita said about us if we want to put on a proper façade.”

“You mean you have to know what Rita said about us if you want to put on a paper facade.” He took another bite of toast.

“Why are you making it sound like I’m the only one pretending to be in a relationship? I thought we were in this together.”

“We are.” He put down his piece of toast. “Still, it is important to remember that you are benefiting most from this plan.”

“True.” She swallowed. “I hope that doesn’t bother you too much.”

He shrugged. “At the moment, it doesn’t perturb me. I’ll find a way to benefit from our arrangement eventually.”

“How?”

“I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

She scratched the table, her mind racing with possibilities. Did he want another publication, a sales boost for his store, another set of black robes, or something else? 

“Regardless.” He picked up his toast. “Please tell me what is in the paper.”

“Why don't you read it aloud? You have a lovely voice, much better than the one I have when reading.”

“No.” The little color he had in his face drained away.

“Why?”

“Because.” He scowled. “I get too nauseated from Rita’s writing style. It is not to my liking, especially before my second cup of tea.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She returned her attention to the paper, “Though I don’t know if my voice will make things any better.”

“Trust me, if I hear it in your voice, her writing will become bearable.”

“Truly?”

He nodded. “Your voice has a way of making everything more bearable.”

“It does?”

“Indeed. You have an adequate enough voice.” He took another bite of his toast.

She blinked. “I can honestly say I’ve never heard my voice called adequate.”

“In your defense, I am one of the few that uses the word as a descriptor as much as I do.”

“So is that an odd type of compliment?”

“It’s as complimentary as you want to make it.”

She twisted her lips, unsure of how to take his comments.

“If I did not want to hear your voice, I would not have asked you to read to me,” he continued. “So please, read the article aloud.”

“I suppose that is as high praise as you will give anyone.”

His lips curled upwards. “You know me well.”

She smiled before grabbing the paper. Her eyes brightened. “We made the front page.”

“We did?”

“Yes.” She glanced at him.

He hummed. “Did it capture our kiss?”

“You really haven’t seen the paper, have you?”

“I thought we established that that was the case.”

“We did, but you didn’t even see the picture?”

“No.” He fidgeted. “I am that averse to reading her so early in the morning.”

“Whatever.” The gleam in her eyes grew. “Yes, it has our kiss on the front page. We seem to be enjoying it.”

“I would hope so. The last thing I would ever want is for you to have an unpleasant time in the throes of passion, regardless of whether or not our kiss was part of a façade.”

“Oh, it was enjoyable.” She blushed as heat radiated through her body. “At least as enjoyable as it could be under the circumstances.”

“I can say the same.” His voice was softer.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” She coughed. “The headline is, Golden Girl Kisses Dungeon Bat: Ron Weasley Nowhere in Sight.”

“I’m surprised it so accurately explained what occurred.”

“I am too. She says, ‘In a shocking turn of events, it appears as if Hermione Granger has dumped her boyfriend of seven years, Ron Weasley, and moved onto Severus Snape, affectionately known as the dungeon bat. This turn of events was truly unexpected given that the Golden Couple’s relationship had no problems to speak of.”

“That is untrue,” Severus finished his toast. “You had several problems in your relationship with Ron Weasley.”

“What do you mean?”

“You two fought all the time.”

“I know you thought we fought too much, but at times it wasn’t bad.”

“'At times' being the operative word.”

Deciding not to rehash this discussion, she returned her attention to the paper. “The article continues, ‘Hermione Granger seemed pleased with the recent turn of events. Even Severus Snape, usually reserved and taciturn, couldn’t resist a public display of affection that bordered on obscenity’.”

“What tripe. It was not as if I tore off your clothes.”

“Indeed,” Hermione ran her finger down the article. “It gave our statements, which are amazingly accurate.”

“Was there doubt in that regard?”

“You never know with Rita.” Hermione stopped her finger. “It concludes, ‘We wish Severus and Hermione the best, though our hearts go out to Ron Weasley, whose heart must be shattered.’”

“And he will be the next person interviewed.”

Hermione’s body ran cold. “Yes, that is probably true.”

“I do not imagine that he will wish us luck," Severus warned.

“No, that is doubtful.”

“Still, the public now has the image of us kissing in their heads.”

“Yes.” She shook. “It does, as does Ron.”

He hummed as she set down the paper.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She frowned.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

“You made that assertion, not me.”

She groaned. “We don’t need to have this conversation again.”

“Then we will not,” he answered.

“Good."

“You just need to prepare yourself for his interview. It will not be pleasant.”

“Indeed.” She sagged. “Perhaps I’ll discontinue my subscription for the next few weeks, just to avoid reading about how horrendous I am.”

“That may be wise," he replied.

“Regardless of what he says.” She scratched a crumb off the table. “We have more important things to do.”

“Like finishing my breakfast?” He took a sip of his English tea.

“Yes, you should do that, but we also need to begin researching my condition.”

“So we do.” He took another sip of his tea but did not move.

“Now, I was thinking we need to look up dark spells that affect magical cores. The more we know about those, the better,” she began.

“Agreed.”

“Then we can look up things people have done in the past to reverse this spell.”

“All of which have failed.”

“Yes, but we can learn from their failures.”

“Indeed we can.”

“Now.” She stood. “Where are your books on dark spells?”

“I have some basic dark spell books in my sitting room, but the magic they discuss isn't as complex as the spell tearing apart your magical core.” He pointed to the hallway.

“Yes.” She began to stroll out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, if the basic books are in the sitting room, the more advanced books are in the library, correct?”

“Yes.” He stood. “But I never permitted you to enter either room.”

“True,” she paused, “but if I am to research this, I’ll need certain books.”

He sighed. “True, but allow me to select them. I have an idea of which ones can be used.”

“True, but I'd like to help. I have an idea of what I'll need. If you point me in the right direction, I can select something.” She strolled towards his library.

“You don’t know what’s available.” He remained behind her, taking one tentative step after another.

“Yes, so we can look through them together…”

“You will only be permitted to use the books I select," he snapped.

She stopped mid-step.

“You need to respect my decision," his voice was sharp. “I know which books can and cannot be used. I understand what we do and do not need. You need to trust me on this.”

“Okay,” her voice was soft.

“I’m,” he exhaled. “I apologize for snapping. I should not have behaved that way towards you. It was uncalled for.”

"No, you were right to be upset. I was being pushy. It wasn't right for me to barge into your library, or house for that matter, and start making demands."

"Yes, but that didn't give me a right to snap at you as I did."

“Don’t worry, I’m used to being snapped at.”

"You shouldn't be."

"It is what it is."

His eyes flashed in sympathy.

“It’s fine. Really, it wasn’t so bad," she forced herself to grin. "Arguing is my love language."

He swallowed before motioning for her to keep moving.

“What kinds of things are in your library anyway?” She asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is there a book that could curse me? Is that what you are concerned with?"

“I do not have anything deadly in there. The books are just…” He shook his head. “There are things in there that would change most people’s opinion of me, things I do not want them to know. You would despise me if you saw some of what I own.”

“Severus, you know I could never despise you.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

He startled.

“I’m sorry.” She stepped away. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” He exhaled. "Please don't view me differently."

“I'll never look at you differently. I know who you are. I could never hate you for what you’ve done.”

“I’m not worried about you hating me for what I’ve done. I’m worried about you hating me for the things I am now.”

“Like what?”

His eyes hardened. “If I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”

Her stomach sank as her mind raced with the possibilities of what Severus could be alluding to. Regardless of who he was now, he was helping her through all this. She’d already barged into his life and his house. Best not to destroy their faux relationship with too many questions before it even began.

“Fine,” she answered. “I will only select the books you will allow me to read.”

“Thank you.” He gestured for her to continue towards the library.

She resumed her trek, Severus following close behind her.

“If it gives you any comfort, the books I will select are quite useful. I think they will be an excellent source of information,” he continued.

“I have no doubt of that.” The tension left her muscles. “If anyone can help cure me, it’s you.”

“I cannot make any promises.”

“I know.” She opened the door. “But just helping me is giving me comfort and confidence that we can accomplish our goal.”

“Perhaps.” He stepped through the door. Then, he flexed his left hand and pulled out his wand. “Accio Dark Spells and the History Behind Them, Obscurissimas Noctem Maledictas, and Maim Sinah Chiatserhnak.”

Three books blew into his hands. He turned and extended them to Hermione.

“Perfect,” she answered. “Shall we begin researching?”

His lips curled upwards. “Indeed we shall.”

Hermione strolled towards the chair, confident that somehow she would undo this spell and resume her former life. 

Chapter Text

Nobody had ever researched with Severus before. Granted, most other people who showed an interest in working on a project with him were turned away with a sharp comment, reminding them of his less-than-stellar reputation. Not once did he regret turning someone away. He was a man who cherished his solitude too much to toss it away on someone who would spend all their time yammering at him instead of reading.

Hermione was different. After hearing Mr. Weasley spend so many nights screaming at her, he couldn’t bring himself to abuse her with a hurtful word. Besides, she needed him now more than ever. She couldn’t make it in the Wizarding World without magic, nor could she return to the Muggle World with only a primary-level education. As distasteful as playing the hero once more was, she needed someone to step in and attempt to cure her or provide some sort of safety net until she could think of a viable plan for the rest of her life. Since nobody else understood her predicament as he did, he was the best person to protect her.

In the meantime, he had a code to crack. If he could crack this code, there was a chance he could succeed in his endeavors. So far, he was getting closer to mastering it, or so he hoped. It would take more complex text to ensure he was on the level he needed to be. Still, if he did accomplish his goal, the world would be his once more.

“I had no idea it took one with pure hatred in their heart to cast this curse,” Hermione began.

His finger stopped over a letter.

“I knew unforgivables were illegal and required hatred to cast properly. Still, for something this dark,” she paused, “it makes me shudder to think of the person who created this spell.”

He didn’t dare tell her that he could imagine a witch as twisted as Bellatrix spending hours devising a spell that would harm Muggleborns and “return” magic to purebloods. She'd bragged about all the spells she was finding and could cast at some of the Death Eater meetings. Why hadn't he kept a better eye in her?

“The amount of hatred required sounds so intense, almost as if the caster is incapable of love.”

“That’s why these spells are so rare.” He turned in her direction. “Most people cannot hate to the extent required to cast spells such as the one you are affected by.”

“Who on earth would think of spells such as these?”

He expunged the image of Bellatrix cackling about torturing the mudblood from his mind. “People who spent so much time in the dark arts that they lost their souls somewhere along the way.”

“Were they dark lords like Voldemort?”

“A few may have fancied themselves to be dark lords of his caliber, but if they were, they were apprehended before they could gather any followers.”

“So,” she gulped, “Voldemort wasn’t an anomaly? Were there people who wanted to be what he became?”

“Yes, but they lacked his charisma, meaning they operated alone.”

“He was charismatic?”

“In his younger days,” Severus moistened his lips, “yes.”

“Is that why you followed him?” Her voice was quiet.

“In part, yes.”

Silence hung between them.

“You must understand, to a youth with little direction who was constantly beaten by his Muggle father and was assaulted by Muggleborn advocates on a daily basis, anyone offering protection was appealing,” Severus continued, wondering why it was so important for him that Hermione understood who he was. Nobody else cared about his motives. They only saw him as a monster. Why did it matter that Hermione see him differently?

"I can understand that," she answered. "Nobody was standing up for you. Even Lily turned a blind eye to what the Marauders were doing. It's understandable that you would turn to someone for protection. I mean," she went quiet, "I don't know what I'd do right now if I didn't have you. It would be tempting to turn to the wrong people for a cure, people who would scam or abuse me."

"Indeed," his voice was soft.

“Still, it feels odd to think of Voldemort as charismatic. I mean, he looked so old when I met him."

“Tom Riddle looked far younger than his years. He also knew how to use one’s insecurities against them. He knew what to promise to get us on his side, whether it be magical supremacy, prestige, power, or a safe place to be.”

“And he promised you a world without your father and the Marauders.” Her footsteps approached him.

“Yes.” He closed his book and jammed it between himself and his chair.

“In other words.” She stilled. “We forced you into the Death Eaters.”

“No, that isn’t accurate. Nobody forced me to do anything.”

“Perhaps not, but we created the circumstances that drove you to behave as you did. Your parents and the Gryffindors gave you very few places to feel safe. From that angle, it would make sense that you would turn to the people who would give you protection, those who would accept you. Hence, you became a Death Eater.”

“Do not over-idolize me,” he warned in a low voice. “I made my choices. There is nobody to blame for my fucked up life other than myself.”

“Yes, but nobody gave you a place to go, no one other than Voldemort." He'd heard her tone of voice, and it grated on him every time.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Do not pity me.”

“I’m not,” her voice was soft. “I’m showing you compassion by understanding where you came from and why you would have so many books on such dark magic.”

“I have had an interest in the dark arts for quite some time.” He bowed his head. “Much longer than I should have.”

She took his hand, sending a jolt throughout his body. Her touch was too comforting to recoil in shock and relaxed his muscles. “You’re using your knowledge of the dark arts for good now, and you used it well then. You taught us how to defend against dark spells as a professor, and now you’re going to help cure one of the most dangerous spells known to the Wizarding World.”

“Assuming I can.”

“We will…”

“Please,” he squeezed her hand, “don’t develop any false hope. The last thing I need is another person disappointed in me.”

“I won’t be.” She rubbed the back of his hand. “Whatever happens, you’ve gone above and beyond in helping me. I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me or the fact that when I needed you the most, you stepped up to help me.”

“Others would help you if you allowed them to.”

“Not the way you have and still do,” she answered. “You don’t pity me the way they would, nor do you treat me like I’m helpless. You don’t shout at me, degrade me, or make me feel worthless. I appreciate that more than words can say.”

“You did not deserve Mr. Weasley’s treatment of you.”

“I don't know. I was yelling at him too. I would provoke him sometimes."

"Don't blame yourself for your abuse."

"I'm just saying that I yelled at him too."

“Nobody should spend half their relationship yelling at their partner.”

“I’d agree with you on most people, but I’m different. I can take it.”

He swallowed as his mother’s eyes flashed in his mind, almost completely devoid of the spark of life that must have been in them at one point. If Hermione were still with Ron, would her eyes become just as haunted? If she returned to him tomorrow, would he yell until she could yell no more? If she knew how incomparable she was, would she decide she could do better and begin living the life she deserved?

“Like I said, you don’t pity me, which I appreciate," she continued.

He took a shaky breath. “If I pitied you, I would have to pity myself.”

“How?”

He twisted his lips, wondering why part of him wanted to show her the book with the code and explain why he needed to crack it in the near future. He could trust her, couldn’t he?

Of course he could trust her, but did she need to be saddled with this information? If she knew her alleged savior was struggling to save himself, would she feel alone once more? Where would she turn if she didn't think he could help her?

“How would you pity yourself if you pitied me?” She asked.

He swallowed down the desire to explain himself and answered, “Let’s just say we’re both victims of dark magic in different ways.”

“How?"

"That is a part of myself I would appreciate keeping private."

"Fine."

He leaned closer until he could see her eyes. They were vulnerable, her voice barely audible. “If it makes you feel better, every morning I cast a glamour onto my arm to hide the MUDBLOOD scar.”

His stomach churned at the thought of that scar. It still sickened him to remember Bellatrix bragging about the torture and how she had scarred the precious Golden Mudblood. Some nights, he lay awake wondering how he could’ve prevented her torture. Realistically, there was nothing he could’ve done, not without blowing his cover. Yet if he’d known the curses she was using, if he knew Hermione would be in this position, he would have thought of something, anything, to prevent it.

“I,” she choked. “I know your association with the word. If it does appear while we’re still trying to cure me, would it bother you to see it every day?”

The tension left his muscles as a calmness washed over him. “Hermione, I am the last person who would judge anyone on their appearance.”

“I know, but the word is so hideous, and,” a tear trickled down her cheek, “I don’t want to be judged by you or anyone else for having it. Ron doesn’t even know I still have it because I hide it from him. I am afraid of being looked down upon because I have it.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “As I said before, I cannot judge anyone based on appearance. Whatever happens, the scar will never be revolting to me.”

She met his eyes as a smile crept across her face. “Thank you.”

“There is never a need to thank me.” He removed her hand from his shoulder. “I am being honest.”

“I know.” She relaxed. “I appreciate it all the same.”

“Indeed.” He leaned back in the chair.

“Anyway, it appears as if one could not find a cure because the curse is so rare, and most wizards and witches forgot it existed.”

“Until Bellatrix.”

“Until Bellatrix.” Her eyes hardened. “I’m going to have the last word, though. I don’t mind if experiments are performed on me. I will find a cure.”

He nodded, knowing nothing he said would squash her optimism or convince her to entertain reality.

“That being said.” She scratched her chin. “We have something to attend to before we get too far into our research.”

“What would that be?”

“At some point we need to tell my parents that we are together, or, sort of.”

“Indeed,” Severus crossed his right leg over his left leg. “I’d imagine they will not be thrilled to hear their baby girl is dating a man almost two decades her senior.”

“Oh no, they’ll be thrilled to know I’m dating you.” Hermione let out a soft chuckle. “My father adores you. He’ll be thrilled that I dumped the man he calls a dunderhead for one he calls “the most sensible wizard I’ve ever met’.”

"He thinks I'm sensible?"

"Oh yes, he thinks you're the only wizard who has ever been good enough to be in my life."

“Then it appears someone will be pleased about the recent turn of events.”

“Yes, but then there will be our breakup.” She exhaled. “I don’t know how well he’ll take that.”

Severus’ stomach sank. Even though he knew the breakup was coming, that did not make it easier to know she wouldn't be in his life forever. Then again, why did he care? It was not as if he and Hermione were lovers. She could do better than him, and everyone knew it. Why feel any pangs of regret at all?

“I suppose we’ll just say we realized we didn’t belong together and decided to split amicably.” She shrugged. “We’ll still be friends, so it is not as if he won’t see you around.”

“We could create convoluted stories, or we could be upfront and honest about this relationship and your condition with them. It’s highly unlikely they would tell anyone else about it.”

“I know, but if I told them what was happening, they would want me to move back in with them, settle down with a Muggle man, and forget the Wizarding World ever existed. They would want me to have a safe existence, not one where I get hit with horrendous curses.”

“And you do not want safety.”

“I don’t want to feel like a freak, to know there’s more in the world for me, that I’m missing out on what I should be, and that I could be doing more if given the chance.”

“That is how I felt growing up,” he answered. “My mother told me so much about the Wizarding World. I knew I wanted to join for as long as I can remember.”

“And it didn’t turn out the way you thought it would.”

“No,” his voice was quiet.

“I can relate,” she replied. “I was a freak amongst Muggles and a freak for being a Muggleborn.”

“And nobody understands our culture, our literature, or why we don’t want to discard all technology from it.”

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “It took Ron forever to realize why I didn’t mind my mother microwaving leftovers for me. His idea is to throw away leftovers because they are never as good as the first time he creates something.”

“That’s wasteful,” Severus answered.

“It is,” Hermione replied. “But when you can magically cook food, I suppose waste isn’t a concern.”

“Even when it should be.”

“Exactly.”

He hummed. “I will admit, we have more in common than many would believe.”

“Yes, which bodes well for a relationship, even if it is fake.”

“I take it you intend to remain friends after this is all said and done.”

“Yes,” Her voice was softer. “Unless you don’t want to.”

He leaned closer to her until he could see her eyes once more. “I will be your friend for as long as you would have me be one.”

There was a spark in her eyes. “I can make the same promise.”

“Excellent.”

“That being said.” She stood. “I should contact my parents and ask them if they want to have dinner with us. I’ll tell them I have a special announcement, which they will hopefully take pleasure in.”

“When do you think they will want to have dinner?”

“Within the next few days. Probably not tomorrow since they have several patients booked for the rest of the week. By Saturday, though, they should be free.”

“Then we will aim for Saturday.”

“Good, I’ll write them when I’m done with this book.” She put it in front of her face. “It is quite fascinating, in a morbid sort of way.”

“So it is.”

“What are you reading?”

He frowned. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

Her voice had a hint of regret. “Fine.”

“It…” he exhaled. “What I’m reading is private. If any of this is going to work, you need to respect my privacy.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” He shifted in his chair, ensuring she did not see the book cover.

“I, uh, better get back to reading these books,” she answered. “They are fascinating, even if I wish they were just an academic pursuit, a way of preventing anyone from being hit with these curses.”

“Indeed.”

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile before she returned to her place. Once her footsteps had stopped and he was convinced she was far enough away to where she couldn’t see the book, he pulled it out again.

Perhaps if he broke this code, he could have some sense of normalcy, or at least as close to it as Severus would ever have.

Chapter Text

“So, Professor, or should I say Mister, Snape, what brings you in this fine day?”

Severus scowled as he adjusted himself on the thinly padded examination table. From the sound of the healer's voice, it was clear he thought he was more clever than he actually was. Brian McDonald had always been that way. When it came to being an insufferable egotist, Ravenclaws such as him gave Gryffindors a run for their money.

“Why are you asking me?” Severus snapped. “I assume Draco gave you the specifics of my case before cajoling me into coming here. Surely you're competent enough to read my file.”

“I have read your case extensively.” The blue roller chair hissed under the pressure of Healer McDonald’s obese body. The tone of his voice warned Severus to remember his place. “But I like to hear every detail from my patient. So I ask again, what brings you in this fine day?”

Severus opened his mouth, but no words escaped his lips. Saying his diagnosis aloud to a former student gave the latter power, power Severus refused to hand over without showing some type of dignity. Instead, he glared at him.

"Not talkative today, are you?"

Severus bit his tongue.

“I see you haven’t changed much. You still think you can cow people into submission by snarling and glaring at them as if they are a waste of your time.” The blue chair squeaked as Healer McDonald slid closer to his patient. “Fortunately for you, I’m so excellent at my job even you wouldn't be able to deduct points from me.”

Severus winced as the healer slapped his thigh. He rubbed the area where he’d been touched, wondering why nobody ever warned him before laying their hands on him. Had this always been a problem, or did he not notice anything until now?

“Even you’ll have to admit I’m not a complete dunderhead once I've cured you.” The chair hissed as the healer stood.

“We’ll see about that,” Severus muttered.

Healer McDonald did not respond. Instead, his footsteps moved away. There was a rustling of papers. “Your venom levels are stable. Luckily for you, they aren’t affecting any additional organs. Looks like Draco still can’t figure out how to expel it from your body, though.”

“I take it you think you can accomplish that goal.”

“I might have a few ideas.” His voice was singsongy like that of a child on the playground.

“What treatments would those be?” Severus asked.

Healer McDonald shifted through his papers. From the volume of his voice, it was clear he wasn’t looking at Severus. “There are some experimental treatments that appear promising.”

“Like?”

“Like să dispară.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that cause a tremor in your hands?”

“It can, but not always.” The healer answered.

“How often does it cause tremors in the hands?”

“In fifty percent of cases.”

"Fifty percent is still happy."

"Yes, I can do the math."

“You are aware that I am a potions master who cannot afford to have unsteady hands.”

“And you’re aware that the poison is still ravaging your body. If you don’t get treatment, you’re only going to get worse.”

Severus huffed.

“If you want your condition to continue to deteriorate, then by all means be an arse and refuse to take your medication. I won’t force you to take care of yourself," Healer McDonald argued.

“Are there no alternative treatments?”

“There are a couple of others.” Healer McDonald flipped the page. “We could try a few other experimental procedures, but they may not be as successful as să dispară.”

Severus grunted.

“How many times have you fallen this last week?” The healer asked.

“I have only fallen twelve times.”

The healer’s voice was louder, as if he’d finally bothered to look at Severus. “I take it you can’t see as well as you could a year ago.”

“No,” Severus’ voice was quiet. “I cannot.”

“Guess you really are the dungeon bat now.” Healer McDonald laughed as if he’d just won Comic of the Year.

“Indeed,” Severus muttered.

“I have some eye drops that will keep you from falling anymore than you already do. With any luck, your ability to see will improve as well.”

“What kind of eye drops?”

“Foarte dureros.”

Severus’ eyes grew. “Don’t those also have the side effects of losing one’s sense of smell and severe nausea?”

“I wouldn't worry about that. Those side effects tend to last only a few hours.” Healer McDonald stepped close to him.

“I do not know if I want to undergo the treatment then, at least not today,” Severus argued.

“Why not?”

“Because I have an important dinner tonight. I do not want to be unwell while conversing with the other guests.”

“I take it postponing this dinner is out of the question.”

“Yes, because I am not the one hosting it.”

"I take it you plan on crashing someone else's meal then?"

"No, she is a friend and requested my presence. I am more than happy to oblige."

“Wait.” The healer paused. “You have friends other than Lily?”

“Indeed, though the term 'friend' may be misleading," Severus admitted. "She is more than a friend. She is my lover.”

“You mean you actually moved on from Lily?”

“I did.” Severus’ muscles tightened. Some days he still wanted to hex Potter for exposing his private life for all of Wizarding Britain to see. Now everyone believed he was the Byronic hero who would never recover from his long-deceased love. Merlin, would he ever escape his past? Even if his future wouldn’t be much better than his past, was he not allowed to have a little hope something in his life could work out?”

“Do you still smell her in Amortentia?” Healer McDonald asked.

He glared in Healer McDonald’s direction. He didn’t dare tell him he had smelled nothing in the potion for years.

“Oh yeah, you still have that pissy expression you had at Hogwarts. Good to know some things never change.” Healer McDonald chuckled and slapped Severus’ right thigh again.

Severus startled before snapping, “Can we get this appointment done and over with?”

“Fine, just let me examine you, and we can get the eye drops ready for you.”

“I told you, I do not want them today.”

“When do you want them then?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll come in then and take them then.”

“I’m fully booked tomorrow.”

Severus twisted his lips.

“Like it or not, the longer you delay treatment, the more likely your condition is to deteriorate," Healer McDonald warned. "The sooner we begin, the sooner we can cure you."

Severus pursed his lips.

“If we start the treatment now, you may actually be able to look into my eyes instead of staring into space. Your glares would be more effective anyway. Perhaps people would finally remember why you were the most terrorizing professor they’d ever met than seeing you as a pathetic man clinging to his past.”

Severus’ stomach sank at the truth of his words.

“Also, we don’t want your nerves to be any more damaged than they are,” the healer continued. “That’s why I strongly recommend the să dispară to be taken as soon as possible.”

“Even though there’s a fifty percent chance of trembling hands.”

Healer McDonald paused. “There’s a hundred percent chance of your condition worsening unless you act now.”

“How likely is this treatment to lessen the effects of the poison on my body?”

“There’s a ninety percent chance that it will slow the effects of the poison. If we can slow the effects of the poison, we can go about fixing the damage it’s caused.”

His heart skipped a beat as he considered his life returning to normal. Surely Hermione could forgive him for one evening of illness, could she not?

“Now, are you still going to fight my treatment plans, or for once in your life, are you going to cooperate?” Healer McDonald was standing close enough to where Severus could see the gleam of triumph in his eyes.

“How long will I need to be on the să dispară?” Severus’ voice was low.

“I don’t know. It could only be a few days, a few months, a few years, or because you had so much venom in your system, the rest of your life.”

“What are the other side effects of the potion?”

“There’s a chance you’ll lose your appetite, leading to weight loss. Your hair may gray sooner than usual. At times your magic will misfire, though this is rare.”

“How rare?”

“A two percent chance.”

Severus scratched the chair, considered how high two percent actually was, and whether that was a risk he could take with Hermione’s magic failing. Did he dare risk her life by having her depend on him when his magic was misfiring as well?

“You may also have slight liver damage, though this can be treated,” Healer McDonalds continued.

“In other words, I’ll need more potions.” Severus’ frown deepened.

“Perhaps, but you’ll also stop tripping and actually be able to look me in the eyes.” The healer’s voice was haughty.

Severus swallowed. “And the eye drops?”

“Again, you’ll more than likely have a moderate headache. You should stay away from bright lights and will be more sensitive to noises. Still, your eyesight will improve within a couple of hours. Well,” the healer paused. “There’s a seventy percent chance that it will.”

“My dinner begins at six.”

“Most of the side effects will be lessened by then.”

“But not ended.”

“Every body is different. You may have no side effects; you may be hit harder than others.”

Severus took a deep breath as he weighed the options of delaying another day of seeing and destroying Hermione’s dinner.

“Your lady friend would prefer that you see, not that you struggle through a dinner," Healer McDonald argued. "At least that's how she would feel if she truly cared about you."

The healer wasn't wrong. Hermione wanted him to be well. She needed him to be healthy, if only to increase her chances of surviving in the Wizarding World. What good was he if he could not provide for her and buy her time to plan her next course of action?

"Are you ready for the treatments?"

“Fine, I will have the treatments.”

“Great.” Healer McDonald clapped his hands together. “Lie down and we’ll get started.”

Severus did as he was told, his muscles tensing.

“Now.” Healer McDonald stepped closer and spoke as if he were talking to a child. “Hold still.”

Severus inhaled as Healer McDonald grabbed his eyelids and the bottom of his eyes, opening them. Then, the eye drop went into his eye.

Severus bit back a scream. Pain radiated from his eye throughout his entire body. His head felt as if it was splitting open while his body wanted nothing to recoil. Still, he wouldn’t give his former student the satisfaction of watching him submit to pain.

Healer McDonald paid no attention to his distress, instead grabbing the other eye and doing the same thing.

Severus hissed as the pain intensified. Both of his eyes felt as if they had caught fire. The room was dark without so much as a shadow, much worse than when he’d entered.

“Here,” Healer McDonald shoved the potion into Severus’ hands. “Go ahead and take the să dispară.”

Severus suppressed a whine as he popped open the stopper. His stomach churned as he swallowed the potion. He imagined it was meant to be lime-flavored, but it tasted more like the slop his mother attempted to pass off as Jello. When he left the house, he vowed he’d never taste it again. If only he knew how shite he was at keeping promises to himself.

“Take that potion twice a day every twelve hours.” Healer McDonald’s voice sounded distant and distorted. “So take it again at nine.”

All Severus could do was nod.

“You can pick some up from the pharmacy on your way out.” Healer McDonald stood. “In the meantime, have a great day.”

Severus attempted to say thanks, but it came out as more of a grunt.

“Also.” The healer’s footsteps stopped. “You will be cured. I can guarantee that.”

Severus wanted to scream that nobody would ever cure him. Every healer promised they could cure him, and every one had failed. This was the most painful treatment yet. Already he wanted to quit, ask Draco for another healer, and hope for something less painful. Yet this was fate’s punishment. He deserved to be punished for all his mistakes. This was fate’s, God’s, karma’s, or whoever’s punishment for his existence and all the horrendous things he’d done throughout his life.

With care, Severus stood. The room spun as bile raced up his throat. How could medicine bring him to his knees in a way Voldemort never could?

After collecting his bearings, he trudged towards the door. After hitting the wall, he used his hand to direct himself to the doorway. Hoping nobody saw him, he crept down the hallway, giving up hope that his intimidating gait would ever return.

Chapter Text

Wilford hadn’t been this depressed since his father’s funeral. In some ways, he felt worse now than he did then. At least his father had found the peace he could never find in life. Hermione, on the other hand, was signing up for a life of torment.

Whatever this news was, it was terrible. Whenever his daughter claimed she had news, it almost always involved her bum of a boyfriend. The better she said the news was, the more his stomach knotted. Today she assured him that he would like her news. It was the same thing she said every other time. Unless she was going to tell him that Ron was on a one-way trip to Yakutsk with no way to communicate with anyone for the next five hundred years, her news would not be good.

He had a pretty good idea of what this news could be too. For a while, Hermione had been batting around the idea of moving in with her git of a boyfriend. Was he moving in with her, or had he talked her into moving into his dingy apartment? Worse, were she and Ron engaged? Was she going to announce Ron would become a permanent fixture in their lives?

Bile raced up his throat. It was not the result of the portkey tossing him and his wife to Hermione’s yard. 

“Don’t do anything rash.” He couldn’t tell if Muriel was speaking to herself or to him.

“I will be as calm and as rational as I can be.” He took her hand.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Her expression betrayed her warning.

“Don’t act like you’re excited about any news involving Ron.”

“If he makes Hermione happy, we have no right to interfere.”

“The operative word is 'if.' He doesn’t make her happy.”

“If she says she’s happy, we don’t have a choice but to believe her.”

He stopped. “You can’t seriously be okay with Hermione potentially marrying Ron.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s about our daughter’s happiness.”

“She’d be happier with a real man, not a screeching toddler.”

“I know.” Muriel swallowed. “But that’s for her to decide, not us.”

“It’s also for the divorce lawyer to decide in a few years.” He continued his trek to the front door.

“If you need to lie down, you can,” his daughter’s muffled voice spoke from behind the closed door. “I’m sure my parents will understand if you need to rest before dinner.”

Wilford rolled his eyes. The arse was drunk already. The idiot probably couldn’t be bothered to take a sober-up potion or whatever wizards took when they had too much to drink. It was doubtful anyone would be able to have a sensible conversation with him.

Where was Severus when you needed him?

“No, I promised to make this announcement with you,” a deep voice began from behind the door.

Wilford’s lip twitched upwards. At least there was someone he could converse with while he pretended Ron didn’t exist. 

“I know, but it’s clear you aren’t well.”

“I’m fine.” His voice was sharp before a pause. “I will be fine, I promise.”

There was silence.

Clearing his throat, Wilford knocked upon the door.

“Coming!” Hermione called, her footsteps drawing near.

Wilford stood straighter and forced his lips upwards.

“Hello, Mum, Dad.” Hermione opened the door before taking note of her father’s expression. She bit her lower lip.

“Hello, Sweetie, How’s it going?” Wilford embraced her.

“Fine.” She returned the embrace. “You appear to be doing well.”

“Of course I’m well. My baby girl has invited me to dinner.” He released her and stepped into the sitting room. “I’m always happy to dine with her, even if I’m not always thrilled with her guest list.”

“I think you’ll approve of this guest list,” she answered before turning to her mother and hugging her. “Hello, Mum.”

“Hello.” Muriel squeezed her daughter. “How have things been going for you?”

“As well as they can be.” Hermione took a shaky breath.

“Hello, Wilford, Muriel.”

“Hello, Severus.” Wilford’s face lit up as he approached the other man. “How’s it going?”

“Very well, all things considered.”

Wilford suppressed a gasp. Severus was paler than he’d ever seen. His hands were shaking, and his gaze was unfocused. Usually Severus would at least look in Wilford’s direction. He seemed incapable of doing that.

“You don’t look well,” Wilford noted.

“Wilford,” Muriel hissed as she untangled herself from her daughter.

“Do you need to lie down or something?” Wilford stepped closer to Severus. The man in black’s pupils were dilated until it was difficult to discern his irises. He was clammy as well.

“No, I’m fine,” Severus answered.

“You don’t look fine.”

The man in black suppressed a gag.

“Severus,” Muriel’s voice was soft. “If you need to go home and lie down, we understand. We wouldn’t want you to make yourself sicker by exerting yourself too much, especially on our account.”

“Thank you, Muriel.” Severus turned his attention to her. “I am well, though.”

“You don’t need to lie to us.” Wilford took Severus’ hand. “Let’s get you seated on the sofa.”

“Thank you.” Severus allowed himself to be led by him. “I promise you this is nothing. I merely had a brewing accident and am still feeling the effects of it.”

“Brewing accident?” Muriel asked.

“Yes, a cauldron exploded, and some of the tainted potion splashed onto my clothing. I thought it would not affect me, though that does not seem to be the case.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Wilford helped him sit on the sofa.

“No,” Severus’ voice was sharp. “I am more than well.”

“Okay,” Wilford recoiled.

“I apologize for my tone.” Severus exhaled. “I have had a long day.”

“It’s fine.” Muriel put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to startle. “We just hope you begin feeling better soon.”

“I’m sure I will.” Severus relaxed.

“What were you brewing anyway?” Wilford asked.

“A migraine-reducing potion.”

“Any chance you could hook me up with some?” Wilford shook his head. “Something tells me I’ll need it tonight.”

“Why do you think you’ll need it?” Hermione approached her father.

“Let’s just say that many of your announcements over the last few years have been less than pleasant.”

“This one is different.” She smiled.

Wilford tensed.

“It is very different.” Severus stood and looked towards Hermione. After he extended his hand, she took it and smiled. “Ron and I broke up.”

Wilford blinked, unsure of how to react. On the one hand, his daughter must be heartbroken. On the other hand, she was holding Severus’ hand and didn’t seem overly upset about the turn of events. Then there was the fact he never needed to deal with the idiot again. It wasn’t clear how Severus played into this, though. Was he the one comforting her?

“Now Hermione and I are lovers,” Severus added.

Muriel’s mouth opened, but not a word came out. Wilford continued to stare at them, all the words he could say becoming jumbled in his brain. A thousand emotions overtook his body, but all he could utter was, “Oh.”

“Yes.” Hermione swallowed and clung to Severus. “I, uh, don’t know how you feel about it.”

“How do you feel about it?” Wilford asked.

Hermione shrugged. “I loved Ron, but Severus takes excellent care of me. He and I are much more compatible. We can talk and laugh for hours. I am quite happy with him.”

“I am thrilled for you then.” Wilford gave her a genuine smile. “It’s about time you saw what was in front of you and chose to be with Severus.”

“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He leaned back on the couch. “It was clear you and Severus would be amazing together. Both of you are great friends, and you take care of each other. Unfortunately, you were too stuck up on Ron to see what was right in front of you.”

“Uh, sure,” she drawled.

“I am glad your bum boyfriend is gone. Now you can see how a real man treats a woman.”

“I guess I will.” She kissed Severus on the cheek. Although he was startled, he gave her a small grin.

“As long as you are happy, I am pleased with this turn of events.” Muriel relaxed.

“You two really aren’t upset about me breaking up with Ron, are you?”

“No,” they answered in unison.

Hermione swallowed.

“For the first time in years, you’re smiling in your boyfriend’s presence, not screaming at him. You look relaxed, and Severus is already looking healthier,” Wilford began.

Hermione turned to Severus, whose color was beginning to return.

“All we’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy,” Wilford continued. “It’s clear you are happy with Severus, and we’re happy for you.”

“I am happy with Severus.”

He squeezed her hand.

“He understands things about you better than Ron did,” Muriel answered. “He understands your love of Muggle literature, the kind of childhood you had, your love of academic pursuits, and the way you enjoy having peace and quiet when returning home instead of screaming at a man-child.”

“I haven’t had much peace and quiet these last few years, have I?” Her eyes grew, as if this fact was just dawning upon her.

“No, you’ve been screaming until your throat was raw,” Wilford answered. “Sometimes I wondered how you were able to speak the next morning with as loudly as you and Ron could argue.”

“I mean, I like to argue.” She released Severus’ hand. “At least, I thought I did. It was supposed to be our love language.”

“There’s a difference between disagreeing with each other and tearing each other down at every opportunity,” Muriel replied. “You and Severus can argue about new potion theories and remain respectful towards each other, whereas you and Ron were arguing over how soon after dinner you could leave our house.”

“And I’d imagine you argued about whether or not you would go to our house,” Wilford answered.

“In Ron’s defense,” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. “He wasn’t your favorite person, and you let him know it on numerous occasions.”

“Can you blame me? He treated you like shit.”

“He wasn't always terrible towards me.”

“Really? From what I can tell, he’s treated you like shit for years.”

“He could be kind to me.”

“But he was not always kind to you, nor did he always treat you with respect,” Severus cut in.

Everyone turned to Severus.

“Some nights it was difficult to sleep because your yelling was so loud. Many of the things you said to each other are not appropriate to say to someone you love.”

“I know.” She sighed.

“It was also inappropriate for him to raise his voice to you as he did,” Severus continued. “As unpleasant as it was to listen to, it must’ve been even worse to endure.”

“I hated the way we yelled at each other.” Her voice was quieter. “Sometimes after Ron left, I would have some lemon tea because my throat hurt.”

“Things do not need to be that way,” Severus continued. “I may not be perfect, but I promise not to yell at you or demean you.”

“I know.” She swallowed. “I appreciate that about you.”

“Hermione.” Wilford approached her. “We just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” The tension left her body. “And I thank you for that. Still, Ron did make me happy.”

“But Severus makes you happier.”

“Or at least he could,” Muriel cut in.

“I will do my best to make your daughter as happy as possible,” Severus promised.

“All we want is for her to be treated well. If you can do that, then you will have a long, successful relationship with her,” Wilford answered. “You will also remain one of my favorite people.”

“That would be nice, for I hope to never get on your bad side.”

"All you have to do is treat Hermione well. Have a healthy relationship with her, and I will overlook most of your shortcomings.”

“Sadly, I cannot say I have ever had a long and successful relationship.” Severus leaned over and met Hermione’s eyes. “But I will do my best to care for her the best way I know how.”

“I know you will always put her first.” Wilford’s lips curled up as Hermione’s and Severus’ lips met.

For the first time in years, he was confident that his daughter could find happiness with her partner. She had someone who respected and cherished her, who would never dream of mistreating her, who would apologize if he was in the wrong, and who would make her laugh regardless of the circumstances.

It was the best news Hermione had ever given him.

Chapter Text

For most of Severus' life, he was exhausted. As a child, he stayed awake due to his parents’ screaming matches or in fear the Marauders would somehow break into his room and attack him in his sleep. Rest did not come in adulthood. Death Eater meetings ran far into the night, as did patrolling the hallways from dunderheaded troublemakers. Then, there were the nightmares he endured for years on end. At first, he’d taken a dreamless sleep to avoid them but stopped when he feared he was becoming too dependent upon it. Over the years, the nightmares became less frequent, and the terrible memories were easier to ignore, though some nights he stayed awake for fear they would return. For a few golden years, he had some semblance of rest.

Then he began this horrid treatment.

His muscles were cramped, struggling to keep his legs from buckling. It was difficult to keep his eyes open, yet the nausea wouldn’t allow them to stay closed for long. Somehow, he needed to make it home, yet his house seemed to be a thousand kilometers away.

Had he been at anyone else’s house, they would’ve ignored his plight or not been perceptive enough to take note of his condition. Hermione cared for him, though, and was too perceptive for her own good. Instead of leaving him alone to suffer, she insisted on taking him to her bedroom and forced him to lie down.

“I can make it home,” he grumbled, his voice betraying his weakness.

“Not in this state you can’t.” She adjusted the pillow under his head, as if she intended for him to stay the night.

He attempted to scowl, but he couldn’t muster the strength to do so. That didn’t mean he wanted to sleep here. The bed was softer than he liked, and the pillow wasn’t going to support his neck properly. Yet, her touch was relaxing, giving him the comfort he had never received from another person. After years of neglect, being cared for was an experience he cherished. Although he knew not to get used to it, he couldn’t deny that he appreciated her caresses.

“Where is your nightshirt?” She asked.

“At my house,” his frown deepened. “Where else would it be?”

“I know which building it’s in, but where is it in your house?”

“In my bedroom closet.”

“Fine.” She stood. “I’ll get that along with new clothes for tomorrow and your toothbrush.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, you need to make sure your teeth are clean. My parents would kill me if you developed a cavity on my watch.”

“Why are you bringing them here?”

“Because.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “You’re staying here tonight.”

“No.” He sat upright. “I’ll stay in my own house tonight.”

“Can you even make it to your house?”

“I can make it home without getting sick.”

“That's doubtful."

He attempted to sneer, but it was lopsided.

"You look like death warmed over. You need someone to stay with you.”

"I'm not a child."

"No, but you're acting like one."

"Excuse me?"

"You're sick and need someone to care for you."

“I’m fine.”

“Either you stay here or I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s.”

“No!”

She released his hand.

“I apologize for snapping at you.” He put a hand on his forehead. “I was just there, and I don’t want to go back.”

“Did you go there for an illness?” She asked.

He twisted his lips.

“Does this illness have anything to do with your falls?”

“Tangentially.”

She took a deep breath. “How much worse is your condition going to get?”

“This will pass in the morning,” he answered.

He couldn’t hear her footsteps but couldn't feel her touch.

“Hermione?"

"Yes?" She was still beside him.

"I promise I will survive," he replied. "What I have is not fatal. By the morning I will be fine.”

“I’m holding you to that."

“Indeed.” He leaned forward, only to lead to a resurgence in nausea.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“And if I move?”

“Then I will force you to wear pink the next time we are seen in public together.”

He laughed. The image of him in pink robes flashed in his mind. Then, the realization that she could do it right now and it would take him hours to realize it, assuming he ever did, dawned upon him. The whole thing was preposterous, yet wasn’t his entire life that way? Wasn’t he getting what he deserved after harming so many people? Could he have expected anything other than this ignoble end?

His laughter was now that of a man who had lost his mind and any ability to cling to reality. The whole thing was absurd, so freaking absurd; all he could do now was laugh at his fate.

Soon, she joined in, though he suspected she was laughing for different reasons. Still, her laughter was intoxicating, encouraging genuine joy to seep through the sorrow. After a few moments of genuine joy, both of them caught their breaths.

“Have I convinced you to sit still?” She asked.

“You’ve convinced me that you are not a woman I should cross," he admitted.

“Good.” She rubbed his thigh. “Please stay in bed. I’ll be back with your things soon.”

“Fine, but only because I want to spare my clothes from an unpleasant fate."

"Good."

"Also, there are some eye drops and a vial of purple liquid. I need those too," he replied.

“Fine.” She removed her hand from his thigh. Then, she strolled away. Before Severus could think to leave, she called, “Crookshanks, please make sure Severus doesn’t move.”

He raised an eyebrow, wondering how she thought a feline could stop a determined potions master from returning home.

The half-kneazle jumped onto his lap and let out a meow. Severus winced as Crookshanks kneaded his claws into his thighs. Soon, Crookshanks made himself comfortable.

“You can move.” The churning of Severus’ stomach and the bile rising up his throat removed the edge from his voice.

Crookshanks began to purr.

“You don’t fight fair.” Severus frowned before lying down on the bed.

Crookshanks stretched out one leg before curling up again.

“You know,” Severus began, feeling the pressure on his lap. “Neither of you fight fair.”

Crookshanks purred louder.

Severus took a deep breath before closing his eyes. Resting them while Hermione retrieved his things couldn’t hurt. It was not as if he had anything better to do at the moment.

Despite the volume of the purring, it was soothing, as was the pressure on his lap. It was easy to relax and savor the moment.

For the first time in years, Severus felt true peace.

***

“I can’t believe that tart would choose such an uncouth man over you!” Molly plopped onto the sofa beside Ron. “She used to go on and on about how ethical she was, but I knew better! Ever since her fourth year, I knew that woman had no morals, no sense of loyalty, and no heart! She’s a harlot! Nothing but a dirty, rotten, disgusting harlot!”

Ron took a swig of his beer before setting it on the table next to the four empty cans he’d already devoured. Although going to the Burrow was supposed to be his refuge, it was turning into another headache. Not only was he not away from memories of Hermione, but he was also listening to his mother rant. Neither did anything to improve his mental health, though he didn’t mind the roast he’d had a half hour ago. At least food still made him happy.

“I just can’t believe I ever supported you two together! Well, I won’t be making that mistake again, I assure you. That tart is no longer allowed in the house!” Molly gestured as if she was slamming an imaginary door in Hermione’s face.

“I thought she loved me.” Ron shook her head. “She seemed to love me. Sure, we fought, but I thought she liked that. Arguing was our love language. She loved arguing with me.”

“Obviously she did not.” George sat in a chair across from Ron.

“Yes, she did!”

George exhaled.

“She’s being so unreasonable about all this! Luna tried to talk some sense into Hermione, but she was already over at Snape’s house. She said they looked cozy and happy.” Ron bit back the urge to vomit.

“It is weird to think she’s been cheating on you with the greasy git for months on end,” George mused aloud, “and that she was dumb enough to let herself get caught. That part is really bizarre.”

“I know! I caught her the day I was going to propose!” He slammed the table. “I was going to marry her, and then she decided to fuck Snape!”

“I’m so sorry.” Molly put a hand on Ron’s back. “You deserve much better than Horrid Hermione.”

“Now there’s an excellent name for her.” Ron’s lips were contorted into a twisted smile. “Horrid Hermione. I love it.”

“Horrid or not, nothing about this story makes sense.” George shook his head.

“Oh, don’t start defending her,” Ron argued.

“I’m not.” George sat up straighter. “Still, this Snape thing is so out of the blue. She loved you so much, but now she's with Snape? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh yes, it does if you remember how she strung along Viktor Krum and Harry Potter!” Molly argued.

“A lot has changed since then. I mean, she was only a fourth year at the time.”

“She was old enough to know better.”

Ron grabbed his beer and took another gulp.

“All I’m saying is that Hermione needs to give us more of an explanation for this sudden, undying love for Severus Snape than she just feels like being with him now.”

“Her explanation is that she’s a tart!”

“George is right!”

They closed their mouths.

“Damnit!” Ron stood. “Horrid Hermione was in love with me. I know she was! I deserve to know why she dumped me for Severus! I need to know it right now!”

Molly took a deep breath. “I told you…”

“No, Mum, I need more than just that. She's horrid.” Ron straightened his posture as much as he could. “I want to understand everything so I can move forward, whether that involves her or not.”

“What do you mean, ‘whether that involves her or not?’” George drawled.

“I miss ‘Mione.” A tear came to his eye. “I miss having someone lying beside me in bed, keeping me warm, and fulfilling my needs.”

Molly recoiled. “Too much information.”

“Right.” Ron drawled before nodding. “Look, we were supposed to be the Golden Couple. Harry may not have become a Weasley…”

“Much to my displeasure.”

“But Hermione and I were destined to be together. I miss her. I want her back!” A tear fell from his eye.

“Then go get her back,” George suggested.

“What?” Molly shouted.

“Yes,” George answered. “Sober up and ask her what happened and if there’s anything you need to change about how you two treat each other, anything that could make your relationship work.”

“But everything was perfect,” Ron argued. “I mean, we fought, but that’s what we’ve always done. We love fighting. It gets us all excited so we can have passionate nights.”

“Again.” Molly winced. “That’s too much information.”

“Snape isn’t better than me. He will never be as sexy as I am. He’s a greasy git who makes everyone miserable. There’s no way she’d choose him over me unless something drastic happened.”

“Do you think he poisoned her with a love potion?”

“No, but I do think he’s blackmailing her into being with him, or she got cold feet about our possible engagement and started seeing him.”

“I hadn’t considered blackmail.” Molly tapped her chin.

“But what could Snape have over Hermione?” George asked.

“The fact that she’s a tart,” Molly muttered.

Ron glared at her before exhaling. “I don’t know, but I’m going to get this all figured out. Then, maybe we can reunite and forget this whole Snape thing happened. With any luck, she’ll move into my apartment, and we can forget the greasy git exists.”

“Are you sure you want Horrid Hermione back?”

“Of course I do. I don’t want to live alone anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean you should live with her.”

Ron let out a pfft. “Who else am I going to live with?”

“Someone who won’t run off with the greasy git,” Molly answered.

“Yes, and once I’m done with Hermione, she won’t run off with the greasy git again.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to restore the trust you once had in her though?” Molly asked. “It’s going to be difficult to get the image of Snape and Hermione snagging each other out of your mind. It will also take time and effort to rebuild your relationship. It will never be what it once was.”

“Mum has a point,” George cut in as Ron took another gulp of his beer. “Just because you know why she’s cheated doesn’t mean you’ll reunite and ride off into the sunset together. It may not be possible to repair your relationship.”

“If Horrid Hermione could forgive me for shagging Lavender in our sixth year, I can forgive her for this.”

“Once again.” Molly buried her face into her hands. “I do not need any of these images in my head.”

“Sorry.” Ron drank the last of his beer. “Anyway, I need to see Hermione now and tell her I’m ready to forget this whole thing if she’ll just apologize.”

“Uh, I’d wait until tomorrow,” George suggested.

“Why?”

“Because you need to sober up for a little bit.”

Ron tilted his head.

“What George means is that you need to sober up enough to determine if this is a good idea,” Molly replied.

Ron tapped his foot before scratching his side. Then his eyes lit up. “You’re right.”

Molly exhaled.

“I cannot go to Hermione empty-handed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes,” Ron stumbled to the door. “I have to come to Hermione bearing gifts, and perhaps the ring I bought her.”

“Why should you, the person who’s been cheated on, buy your cheater presents?” Molly demanded.

“Don’t worry! You’ll have the daughter-in-law you’ve always wanted soon enough.”

“I want a daughter-in-law who won’t cheat on my son,” she argued.

“Bye, George! Thanks for everything.”

“Uh, sure,” he drawled.

Ron trudged towards the fireplace. After raising the floo powder and throwing it into the fireplace, he called out his address. Then, he tripped into it and disappeared.

Molly glared at her son. “If this blows up in Ronald’s face, I’m blaming you.”

George groaned before shaking his head.

***

“Okay, I have your toothbrush, your nightshirt, and a couple of potion books in case you aren’t feeling well. I…” She closed her mouth upon seeing Severus lying on her bed, Crookshanks asleep on his lap. The man’s eyes were closed, and his muscles relaxed.

Hermione crept inside, hoping her Lumos wasn’t too bright. Then again, it was duller than she remembered. Perhaps she wouldn’t trouble him.

“You’ll what?” Severus drawled.

She turned to him. While his eyes remained closed, his lips twitched upwards.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was soft. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not asleep, just resting my eyes and accepting my fate as your feline’s hostage.” He craned his head up. His eyes didn’t meet hers.

Her lips curled upwards. “There’s a reason I love Crookshanks. He always accomplishes his goals.”

“He is much more successful than I would have liked.”

Crookshanks flexed his paw before purring louder.

“Still, I cannot complain. It is nice to have a little warmth after everything that’s happened," he admitted.

“What did happen today?” She approached him. “And don’t tell me it was a potions accident. We both know you aren’t that careless.”

“Everyone is prone to a potions accident every now and then."

“Not you, not one that makes you this sick.”

He frowned.

“What happened today?” She asked.

“What happened is I became ill, you refused to allow me to return home, and now I’m being held hostage by your feline.”

“No, this is deeper.”

“Hermione, please stop."

She grew quiet.

“There are things about myself I’d prefer not to share. If you want this pretend relationship to work, then you need to respect my privacy,” he continued.

“I respect your privacy, but I also want to help.”

His voice was low. “Then drop this discussion about my condition and forget I was ever sick. Don’t bring this up in the morning, and this fake relationship will progress just fine.”

She twisted her lips. “Fine, but I’m not going to allow you to hurt yourself.”

“You never did know when to forgo helping a creature you saw as in need.”

“You are in need of a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like a true friend.” Her voice softened. “You don’t need a mother, but you do need to know someone is on your side. You need someone to assure you that if you are in trouble, she will help you.”

“I’ll remember that.” His voice was soft. “I make you the same offer. If you are in trouble, I will help you.”

She sat beside him and clasped his hand. “I know you will.”

Together they remained on the bed, taking comfort in Crookshanks’ purrs, the peacefulness of the moment, and the growing strength of their bond.

Chapter Text

Hermione never would’ve suspected that Severus was a cuddler in the morning. Granted, she never considered how Severus woke up. Did he sleep with a pillow against his chest, or did he only embrace people? Had he ever clung this way to another woman, or was Hermione the first and only woman he made feel as if she was the most cherished person in the world?

Had he ever held a woman he loved?

She hummed before relaxing into his embrace. When Ron pressed her body against his, he smothered her until she had no choice but to force him off, lest she lose the ability to breathe. Then again, it was rare that he cuddled her. Most nights, he slept with his back to her. Until now, she thought she was fine with not waking up in a man's arms. Yet to feel herself in Severus’ arms, to feel as if he was protecting her, was all a new sensation. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted it to end.

Severus moaned, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts. His eyes fluttered open as he croaked, “Hermione.”

“Good morning.” She gave him a soft smile. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Better than I thought I would.” He yawned. “Your bed was not completely uncomfortable.”

“I’m glad it meets your standards, even if it did just barely.”

“I am too. The last thing I ever want is to sleep on a bed that gives me nothing more than a backache.”

“That would be the worst kind of tragedy, wouldn’t it?”

“Indeed it would be.” He yawned again.

She stroked his cheek. “Do you feel any better than you did last night?”

“Somewhat.” He held her closer.

“Good.” She moved a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. “I wouldn’t want to lose my healer’s touch.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You haven’t lost your touch at all.”

Heat flushed through Hermione’s body. When she’d demanded Severus sleep on her bed, she never suspected they would have such a pleasant morning after. Now, it was as if they had been in a romantic relationship for years. Everything about Severus in her arms felt right, like she was where she'd always belonged.

“I...” His eyes grew before he released her. He slid backward before blushing. “I, uh, did not mean to touch you as much as I did. It was not prudent of me to invade your privacy in this manner.”

“Don’t apologize. I didn’t mind being touched,” she answered.

He blinked as the little color he had left his face. "You do not feel as if I forced myself upon you?"

"Not at all."

He continued to look in her direction.

“Honestly, it felt nice to be held again.” Her eyes shifted to the sheets. “Ron didn’t like to show affection in the mornings, at least not like this. It felt nice to be held by someone who wanted to be near me, even if you didn’t want to stay here initially.”

“Did it feel too nice?”

She bit her lower lip.

“If your plan works, you will return to Ron and his lack of affection,” Severus warned. “Are you prepared to tell him that while you did not sleep with me, you woke up in my arms?”

“Let me deal with Ron in my own time.” She stretched her arms. “Right now, I want to ensure you are feeling better than you were last night.”

“You are changing the subject.”

“It’s my bed, meaning I get to decide what we discuss.” She met his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine.” He sat upright, but his eyes were not focused upon her. “I just needed a little sleep. Right now, I am more than well.”

“Excellent.” She sat and faced him. “Still, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I would hate to impose.”

“It’s no imposition at all. You’re doing so much for me. The least I can do is a couple of favors for you.”

His eyes hardened. “Do not hold me cuddling you against me, and I will consider us even.”

“Oh.” Her stomach sank. For a brief moment, she had hoped that there would be a flicker of some kind of emotional intimacy. Perhaps it was wrong to go too far in her pretend relationship, but for one night, it was nice to pretend a man cared for her.

“Do not think I am being cold. You are a beautiful woman. Having you in my arms was pure bliss."

She blushed.

"Still, I do not want you to regret being with me, not even for a moment.”

“Don’t worry.” She relaxed. “I will never hold one of the most pleasant mornings of my life against you.”

“This was one of the most pleasant mornings of your life?”

"Yes."

CRACK!

Severus startled as Hermione’s heart began to race.

“Are you expecting someone?” Hermione asked.

“No.” Severus’ eyes shifted in her direction. “Are you?”

There was a banging on the front door.

She shook her head. “Apparently I am now.”

“‘Mione! Open up!”

Hermione sagged and shook her head. From the other room, Crookshanks hissed and growled as if he could singlehandedly stop the intruder. Severus made a fist.

“Do you want to pretend not to be present so he will leave sooner?” Severus asked.

“No.” She stood. “I can handle him.”

“I know, but,” He held his hand in her direction. “You don’t need to face him alone.”

“Are you certain you want to deal with this so early in the morning?”

“‘Mione! Open up ‘Mione! I need to speak with you!” 

“I’ll be dealing with him whether I am with you or not. I may as well be present for this confrontation,” Severus replied.

“As long as that is what you want.”

"It is."

She took his hand and slid across the bed. Once she reached the other side and began making her way to the front door, Severus followed her. He was two steps behind her but was maintaining his balance well enough.

“‘Mione! C’mon and open up.”

She flung the door open. “What do you want, Ron?”

Crookshanks let out another hiss before darting into the kitchen.

“I need to speak to you.” Ron turned to Severus, then glanced down at his hand intertwined with Hermione’s. He lowered his voice. “Alone.”

“Whatever you need to say to me can be said in front of Severus.” She squeezed her pretend lover’s hand.

“Fine.” Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out two packages. After enlarging them, he shoved them in her face. “Here are some presents.”

Hermione released Severus’ hand and took the packages from Ron's hand. The first box was a twenty-four pack of chocolate frogs. Her stomach sank at the memories of the afternoon in her kitchen where they had chocolate frogs for lunch rather than a proper meal just because they wanted a change of pace. He teased her about worrying about their dental hygiene while she teased him about how many crumbs he was leaving behind. With a sweet kiss, he’d silenced all her concerns.

“I thought you’d like some chocolates,” Ron began.

“The chocolates are very.” She swallowed as memories of eating them on the train with him came flooding back. “Thoughtful.”

“Yes, and look at your other present.”

She took note of the package in red wrapping paper. After handing Severus the chocolates, she unwrapped the paper. Upon seeing the gift, she fidgeted. “Quidditch Through the Ages?”

“Yes.” Ron’s eyes lit up. “I know how much you liked to read, so I thought you’d like to read a book.”

Her throat constricted as she struggled to formulate a response.

“Look also at the bookmark.”

She opened the book. Her chest constricted as she read the wording upon it.

“I thought you and I could see the Chudley Cannons and Holywood Harpies together," Ron continued.

Hermione struggled to meet Ron’s eyes. She gulped. “These gifts are something only you could give.”

“I know.” He folded his hands.

She glanced at the book again.

“Well, don’t you want to forget this whole Snape thing and go with me?” Ron asked.

She turned to Severus, who pursed his lips. To most people, his expression was blank. After living next to him for a few years, though, she could see the unspoken question in his eyes, as well as the man who feared another friend would abandon him.

“No.” She shook her head. “Severus and I are in a relationship now. Thank you for the gifts, but it wouldn't be right to accept them. It would only give you false hope.”

“What do you mean?” Ron let out a nervous laugh. “They’re from the heart. You used to say that anything that came from the heart was excellent to you.”

“I know I said that.” She gulped.

"So then we should be fine. These presents should fix everything."

“No, there are some things you can’t fix with a present.”

“Like what?” Ron snapped.

“Like.” Her expression hardened. “Like the way you never cuddled me when we slept in the same bed.”

“Excuse me?” Ron tilted his head.

“You never cuddled me.”

“I never cuddled you?”

“No, I wanted to be held every once in a while, but most nights, you didn't even face me.”

“You didn’t want to be cuddled,” he snapped. “Every time I tried to hold you, you pushed me off. After a while, I stopped trying.”

“I know, and perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed you away, but you never held me right.”

“And he does?” Ron pointed to Severus.

“Apparently I do,” Severus drawled, his disbelief seeping through.

“Y-you two,” he pointed to both of them. “You two actually cuddled?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“My God.” He put his head in his hands. “I thought you two were just fucking like two barn animals. I didn’t think there was any emotion behind it, or that either of you were capable of caring for each other.”

“Severus and I care for each other.” She looked into Severus’ eyes once more. “We care for each other very deeply.”

“Why?” Ron’s face turned red.

“Severus is intellectual…”

“No!” Ron stepped closer to her. “This breakup came completely out of the blue! Nothing about it makes sense!”

“I told you, we fought so much…”

“No, you like fighting!”

“No, I don’t!”

Ron stumbled backward as if he’d been punched.

“I don’t like fighting with someone every hour of the day over every little thing. I want someone who will listen to me and not just give me things he wants in the name of giving me a gift," She argued.

“What does that mean?”

“It means.” She held up the tickets. “You want to go to a Quidditch game. In your eyes, that will resolve all our problems. In the meantime, I hate the sport. It’s another thing you want to force me to do.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so boring and stuffy, you’d enjoy Quidditch more!”

“Hermione is not boring or stuffy,” Severus argued. “You are uncouth and do not respect Hermione’s wishes."

“Excuse me.” Ron furrowed his eyebrows. “Who asked you to say anything?”

“He can speak as freely as he wants,” Hermione argued.

“Fine, but he can’t call me names.”

“Did I call you names, or did I tell the truth?”

Ron’s face turned redder.

“You barged in here demanding Hermione take you back by trying to bribe her with gifts, knowing she didn’t want any of this,” Severus continued.

“Shows how much you know!” Ron smirked. “Hermione loves books, or have you been fucking so much you’ve forgotten that?”

“I remember that she isn’t interested in Quidditch.”

“Oh please, a book is a book.” Ron rolled his eyes. “If she can read one, she can read them all.”

“They aren’t all the same,” she argued. “I want books that interest me.”

“What, do you want to read then, potions articles?”

“I like them more than books about Quidditch anyway.”

“So that’s how you feel?” Ron growled.

Boiling tears singed Hermione’s eyes. “Ron, please don’t make this more difficult than this needs to be. I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gifts…”

“No, you don’t.” He snatched the book and tickets away from her. “You’ve never appreciated anything I’ve done for you. No matter what I say or do, I’m never good enough for you.”

“That isn’t true.” Tears were pouring down her cheeks. “You are good enough for me.”

“Then why are you cuddling him?” Ron pointed to Severus. “Why are you in his arms instead of mine?”

“Because he respects me by not barging into my house and asking me to do things he knows I do not want to do.”

“What is this about?” Tears began trickling down Ron’s face. “What is this breakup about? None of it makes sense. I want to know what is going on so we can fix things. I want us to be the Golden Couple again. Just tell me what’s going on so we can be together again!”

“What’s going on is that you are only capable of thinking about yourself,” Severus cut in. “You run around and behave as if you are a toddler, always asking Hermione to clean up after you or go along with whatever harebrained scheme you’ve concocted. You know next to nothing about Muggle culture, nor do you seem interested in learning about it. You are disrespectful to her parents, and you disrespect her by shouting her down when you do not get your way. Some nights it was difficult to sleep with as loudly as you two were shouting at each other.”

“Oh, shut up!” Ron whipped out his wand. Then, he shouted out the name of a hex, which sent Severus flying and slammed him into a wall.

“What the hell was that for?” Hermione shouted.

“Now that he’s gone, we can talk.” Ron stepped closer to her.

She turned to Severus; he was struggling to stand. Hermione glowered at Ron. “There’s nothing to say. Get out of here.”

“But ‘Mione…”

“Now!”

Ron glared at her.

“Get out of here now or else I’ll call the Aurors!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Ron growled.

“Are you willing to find out?” Hermione shouted.

“Fine!” Ron stomped his foot. “Mum’s right, you’re nothing but Horrid Hermione!”

“Excuse me?” Hermione’s body ran cold.

“You heard me.” Ron yanked the box of chocolate from her hands. “You are a nightmare of a woman. It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends left, other than the greasy git.” Ron turned to the man who had just stood up. “You two deserve each other.”

“Mr. Weasley,” Severus’ voice was as low and as dark as it had been during a Death Eater revel. “I would strongly suggest you leave before I treat you like the uncultured trespasser you are.”

“But…”

“If you utter one more syllable.” Severus took one unsteady step closer to him. “I will show you why Voldemort entrusted me as his right-hand man.”

Ron’s face went white. He turned to Hermione, who hissed, “Get out now.”

After giving them one last glare, Ron apparated away, leaving Hermione alone with Severus, wondering if there was anything left to salvage of her relationship with Ron, and more importantly, whether she wanted to do so once all was said and done.

Chapter Text

“Hold still.” Hermione demanded over the sound of alcohol sloshing in a bottle.

Severus snarled as he sat in a chair at her kitchen table, arms folded over his chest, doing his best not to hiss. A week after the war, he promised himself he would not interfere in the affairs of obnoxious Gryffindors, especially if such meddling would lead to serious personal injury. Thanks to the schemes of his next-door neighbor, he had shattered that promise to himself and had the concussion to prove it. Somehow, the alcohol soaking the gash on his cheek was far more painful than the throbbing of his head.

Why had he been foolish enough to stay in her bed last night? Better question: why had he been foolish enough to leave it this morning?

“This may sting a little.” She warned.

He hissed as the cotton ball touched his cheek, alcohol streaming into the wound.

“I'm sorry. I know this hurts,” she whispered.

“Then why are you torturing me with your Muggle medicine methods?” He snapped.

“Because I don’t have the potions necessary to disinfect your wounds, there isn’t time to brew any, and I’m not sure my magic would allow me to brew anything anyway. So, we’ll just have to make do with this.” She dabbed more alcohol onto his cheek.

He winced and bit back a yelp.

“I know you hate this…”

“I hate a lot of things.”

"True."

"I especially hate Weasley's newfound propensity towards violence."

“Look, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

"I know, but I still hate it."

"I'm sorry. I know you hate me..."

“I hate this situation, not you.”

She paused.

“I,” he winced as she kept the cotton ball on his cheek. “I don’t hate you. I deeply disagree with almost every decision you’ve made these last few weeks, and I cannot say that I like the results of them. Still, I could never hate you.”

"Never?"

"Never."

“Thank you,” her voice was soft. “It means a lot that I can screw up without someone hating me.”

He suppressed a whine as she reapplied the alcohol.

“I’m sorry Ron attacked you.” She removed the cotton ball from his cheek. “It was uncalled for.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry I put you in harm’s way. I had no idea he would become violent like that.”

“He’s attacked me before, and you didn’t think he’d attack again?” Severus’ body tensed at the sound of the alcohol swishing in the bottle.

“I…” She paused before taking a deep breath. “I’ve never seen this side of Ron before. Sure, I knew he had a temper and that he could be jealous, but I didn’t think he would become violent.”

“The woman he loved supposedly ran off with a greasy git. That would drive most men to violence.”

“Not the kind of man I want as my partner.”

Severus swallowed.

“He shouldn’t be this violent, not towards you or anyone else.”

“If he wasn’t supposed to be violent, what was he supposed to do, shake my hand and congratulate me for a job well done in seducing his lover?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted before the drenched cotton ball touched his cheek again.

Severus whined.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Severus bit back the question of whether she was apologizing again for Ron, dragging him into this ill-advised scheme, or the physical pain she was causing.

“This.” She stilled the cotton ball. “This all went much better in my head. I thought I could make this right somehow. I knew Ron would be upset, but he wasn't supposed to be devastated.”

“There’s still time to back out.” Severus’ jaw was clenched. “You can admit everything right now. He may still take you back.”

“I could if I could take everything we did back."

"Meaning?"

"I can’t take back the fact that you cuddled with me.”

“I apologize for that.” His body relaxed once the cotton ball was removed. “I did not know I would be so clingy in the night. Then again, I suppose I wouldn’t know that I’m not clingy either.”

“What do you mean?” She shifted the cotton balls and alcohol bottle.

“I’ve never slept in the same bed as another person, at least not through the entire night.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

She was silent. It didn’t take a spy to imagine how sorry she felt for him.

“Do not think me pathetic,” he warned. “I simply didn’t have time for romantic entanglements while I was spying and took no interest in them after the war.”

“Why?” The chair she was sitting in creaked. “You are free to live your life however you want. Why haven’t you attempted to date anyone?”

“Perhaps you don’t mind having your name splattered all over The Daily Prophet, but I do. There are things about my life people do not need to know, my romantic entanglements being one of them.”

“Yet here you are, carrying on an imaginary relationship with a member of the Golden Trio in front of the press.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind putting on a good show every once in a while. Merlin knows I’d rather do this than convince someone who cares nothing for me that I’m on his side.”

“Great, I’m being compared to Voldemort.”

“I was thinking about Dumbledore, though Voldemort would fall into that category as well.”

She took a shaky breath. “I’m messing up everyone’s lives, aren’t I?”

“No,” he answered in a soft voice. “You’re improving my life. As odd as it sounds, I’ve enjoyed having you by my side these last few days, if only for the companionship. As much as I do not like the circumstances of our faux romance, I do enjoy having you in my life.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“I would never lie to you, not about something like this.” He moistened his lips. “I enjoy being with you, even if it is part of a scheme to break up with your lover only to somehow reunite with him.”

“You,” her voice was softer, “you don’t think he’ll be violent when he finds out most of this is fake.”

“Most of this?”

“Again, we did cuddle. Nothing we say or do can change that.”

“Would you want to change her?”

He almost didn’t hear her say, “No.”

His heart slowed.

Her voice drew closer. “I told you, I liked being held by you. I felt safe, warm, wanted, and cared for. I haven’t felt that way in years. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way, not the way I did this morning anyway.”

“Don’t you think that says something about your relationship with Mr. Weasley?”

“It means our relationship was like a raging fire. When we were together, our love could inflame anything. It burned all the obstacles in our path but then wound up burning us, maybe more than I realized it did.”

He hummed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” She groaned. “I’m such a mess. Everything around me is such a mess right now.”

“If you need me to leave, I can.” He began to stand.

“Oh no.” She put a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to sit down so I can treat your concussion.”

“And if I leave?”

“I know where you live and can make life quite difficult until you allow me to come into your home.”

He chuckled before returning to his seat.

“Okay, let me see how severe your concussion is.” Hermione took a few steps backwards. He looked in the direction of her eyes but wasn’t sure if he met them. She took a deep breath. “Ai o comoție cerebrală?”

Severus didn’t feel any magic, nor was there a green glow.

She cleared her throat. “Ai o comoție cerebrală?

Still no tingle of magic or glow.

She spoke louder. “Ai o comoție cerebrală?”

“Hermione…”

“Don’t Hermione me,” she snapped. “I can do this. Dammit, I can do this!”

He twisted his lips.

“Ai o comoție cerebrală?” She choked out.

This time, he felt the magic pulsate around his head and saw the green glow. Then, the glow around him was red.

“Merlin I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “It’s more severe than I thought it was.”

“Do not worry about anything.” He stood. “I’ll brew myself a concussion-healing potion, and I will be fine.”

“You're going to what?”

“Brew myself a concussion-curing potion and be fine.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes,” he answered in a controlled voice. “I am.”

“You can’t brew anything if you have a severe concussion.’

“While most people cannot, I’ve become quite proficient at brewing when injured.”

“You aren’t Superman.” She stepped towards him. “You can’t do everything.”

“Watch me.” He scowled and took a few steps forward, ignoring the feeling that his hand was shaking and bile was rising up his throat.

“I won’t let you brew anything.” She grabbed him and pulled him closer. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Let me go,” he growled before attempting to remove his arm from her grasp.

“No,” she snapped. “Not until you agree to stay here and rest.”

“I’ll rest much easier if I have that potion.”

“Then I’ll brew it for you.”

“Are you certain you can?”

“I’ll find a way.” She pulled him closer. “But you are not leaving under the impression you can brew a potion in this state.”

“I can, and I will.” He jerked himself away from her, only to bump into a wall.

“And your tripping spells,” her voice was louder. “You need to figure out why they are happening.”

“I am fine.” He straightened his posture. “I’ll be even better if you let me go.”

“You aren’t leaving until I am certain you are fine and will not do anything stupid like try to brew your own potions.”

“If I promise not to do anything stupid, will you allow me to leave?”

“No, because you won’t mean it.”

His frown deepened as he pointed to the door. “Listen, Hermione, you may be my pretend lover, but you do not get to tell me where I can and cannot go.”

"I'm trying to heal you."

"I don't need to be healed."

“Look at your hand!”

He glanced in its direction, feeling it shake harder than it had in ages. He swallowed down his bile.

“Alright.” Hermione took his hand. “I want to know what’s happening, and I want to know everything now.”

“Let me go,” he argued.

“No!” She retorted. “Nobody is leaving this house until I know exactly why you continue to fall down and why your hand is shaking.”

“You want to know the truth?” His temperature skyrocketed.

“Yes, I want to know the truth.”

“Fine,” he barked. “I’m going blind, and there isn’t a damn thing you or any other healer can do about it."

Chapter Text

Everything made sense. For months, no, years, Severus would look in her direction, but his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. The numerous falls and bruises made sense. It explained why he would follow Crookshanks when he purred. Without the feline, his steps were unsteady, uncertain, and in danger of causing a fall.

How could she not have seen the signs sooner?

“You’re going blind.” The statement sounded odd coming from her mouth. It was a fact she should’ve known. Yet the thought of Severus Snape being disabled in any way was disconcerting, something that sounded like a bizarre revenge fantasy, not reality.

“Yes.” He slumped. “I am going blind.”

“H-how did it happen?” She stepped closer to him.

“There is residual poison from Nagini’s poison still in my body. No matter what the healers did, they couldn’t remove it all.” His eyes went downwards. “For the most part, it causes me no harm. Yet, it’s destroying my optic nerve. Slowly but surely, I am going completely blind.”

“I…I had no idea.” She sat beside him, her face drained of color. “I should have known something was wrong."

“I didn’t want you to know.” His voice was low. “Nobody aside from Draco and a few healers was ever supposed to know of my condition.”

“So that’s why you’ve been seeing him and going to different healers over these last few years. You wanted to cure your blindness.”

“Yes."

“Has anyone been able to help?”

“No, each treatment ends in failure, worsens my condition, or leads to terrible drug side effects.” He held up his shaking hand.

“How long have you been on the medication that causes your shaking hands?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve only taken a couple of doses.”

“Do you intend to stay on the treatment?”

“Honestly.” He huffed, “No, I do not. I can’t brew with my hand shaking like this.”

“I am glad you recognize you aren’t safe to be in a lab,” she replied. “These side effects are terrible. There is no guarantee the treatment would have worked anyway.”

“No. That healer was an arse. Then again.” Severus scowled. “They’re all arses.”

She frowned. “My colleagues aren’t arses.”

“To you, they may not be. To their patients, especially the ones they feel tortured them in school, they behave very differently.”

“Admittedly, there are a couple of my colleagues who could use some work on their bedside manner.” She scratched her chin. “But I can’t believe they would purposefully injure or insult you.”

“Tell that to Healer McDonald.”

“Was he the last one who saw you?”

Severus nodded.

“No.” She shook her head. “He’s a sweet man. He would never hurt a patient, not the way you're claiming he would.”

“He would if that patient was his surly ex-potions professor.”

"No, he's more professional than that."

"Then why did he insult and demean me?"

"He insulted and demeaned you?"

"Yes, just as badly as all the other ones did."

She blinked.

“His behavior is not shocking. All of the healers are arses in their own way, though admittedly, they don’t always intend to be.”

“No, my colleagues are nothing but professional.”

“Then why have several of them dragged me in a room in front of a group of medical students, just to show them the effects of Nagini’s poison? All of them whisper, and a few jeer at me, telling me how pathetic I now am, how I can no longer intimidate a fly. The fact that they can see their once imposing and intimidating potions master brought to his knees is their wildest dreams come true.”

“Did a healer really do that?”

“Three healers have done that.” Severus shook. “I couldn’t see them or their students as well as I would’ve liked, but I heard the ‘oohs,’ ‘ahs,’ the snickers, and the whispers.”

“In other words, they treated you like a freak.”

“Yes. Then again.” He huffed. “They would be far from the first people to call me a freak or treat me as such. I should be used to it now, even if I spent my life trying to prevent myself from being called a freak again.”

Her heart cracked at the pain in his eyes. His posture was no longer as straight as it had been, and his eyes shifted away from her. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t a freak. You’re someone who is developing a disability, one he cannot help.”

“I’m someone who is getting what he deserved. After all the diatribes I’ve given on pureblood supremacy, after all the lies I’ve told to convince people I was on their side, after all the people I watched die, after all the students I’ve insulted, after all the times I thought I was free to live my life on my own terms.” His voice was barely above a whisper, “I got what I deserved.”

“No.” A rush of energy coursed through Hermione as what little magic she had crackled within her. “No, you don’t deserve any of this.”

“Yes, I do,” he argued, his voice much stronger. “This is punishment for everything I’ve done wrong in my life.”

“No, your blindness isn’t any more of a punishment than my losing my magic is.”

“Your situation is completely different. You’d done nothing to deserve being tortured or having those terrible curses cast upon you.”

“And you'd done nothing to deserve getting bitten by that snake.”

“I was a pureblood supremacist who used to torture muggles for sport.”

“Then you repented and became a better man. You spied for the light and saved countless lives.”

“Don’t over-idealize me.”

“I’m not. I’m being honest.”

He opened his mouth.

“Listen,” she argued. “As a headmaster, you did everything possible to protect the students from professors such as the Carrows. You were following Dumbledore’s orders at great cost to yourself. You were protecting Draco. Then you got bitten.”

“Yes, and everything was supposed to end there,” he answered. “I was supposed to die, until the healers found me and began to revive me.”

“And I’m thankful every day they did. I quite enjoy having a neighbor that doesn’t blare his music at odd hours of the day. That, and I like someone who will tolerate Crookshanks breaking into his house, even if you do give him too much turkey.”

He blinked before cracking a smile. “I do not give him too much turkey. I only give him enough to stop his incessant yowling.”

“Which is why he always gains a kilogram after visiting your house.”

"Perhaps if you taught him not to yowl, I would not need to feed him to be quiet. Right now, he is quite obnoxious."

"Don't give me that look. You like Crookshanks," she argued.

Severus exhaled. “I appreciate your feline. Sometimes, he guides me around the house. It is one of the few times I do not fall.”

“So he’s your guide feline.”

“More or less.”

She hummed. “If you don’t mind me asking, when did you notice that you were going blind?”

He took a deep breath. “It started around five years ago. I noticed that I was losing my ability to see things in the distance. At first I thought I only needed glasses, so I saw a Muggle doctor. I didn’t want any wizard knowing of my condition, and I thought a Muggle doctor could resolve the issue in a timely manner. Over the next few months, my eyesight continued to worsen. So, the Muggle doctors ran a few tests and noted there was damage to the optic nerve. While they couldn’t explain it, I suspected a magical cause. That’s when I first saw Draco.”

“And he’s the one who diagnosed you with the poison damage.”

“He didn’t know the cause initially, so he sent me to a few specialists, one of whom pointed out that it was Nagini’s poison. Soon, they began giving me treatments to reverse its effects, but alas, nothing worked.”

“Is the poison affecting any other organs?”

“No.” There was more bitterness in his voice than she expected. “Most of the poison was expelled when I was first treated. Still, some dark magic remained. It became concentrated in the optic nerve, which is why it is destroying my eyesight.”

“What happens when the nerve is damaged beyond salvaging?”

“The healers believe once I go blind, the effects of the poison will be no more, though because nobody has been injected with as much venom as I have been, nobody can make any guarantees. For all I know, my kidneys and liver will fail as well.”

“I see.”

“In the meantime, I have been through treatment after treatment, humiliation after humiliation, and nothing has worked. At the moment, I am learning to accept the fact that in a few years I will have no means of supporting myself and enjoying my freedom and financial stability while I still can.”

“I hadn’t thought of you not having a job.” She shook. “I suppose it is impossible to brew while blind.”

“No, it isn’t,” he snapped. “It is different than brewing while sighted, but I can brew just as well now as I could then.”

She kept her gaze upon him.

“I can still feel the ingredients, so I know how to tell them apart.”

“Yes, but you have to touch each one of them individually to know what they are. That can’t be practical, especially if some of those ingredients require gloves to touch.”

“True, but I can convert the ingredient labels into Braille.”

“Braille?”

He nodded. “I’ve been teaching myself Braille for roughly a year. It makes it easy to tell the ingredients apart and allows me to continue reading.”

“I had no idea you knew about Braille.” Hermione folded her hands.

“I learned about it when I was a child. When I was about nine, I saw an interview given by Stevie Wonder, who was discussing what it was like to be blind. I remember being fascinated by it, but I couldn’t find any Braille books to learn it for myself. Still, I remembered wanting to crack that code. When my eyesight began to fail, I tried to create spells that would read the texts to me, but I couldn’t get them to pronounce certain words correctly, which meant I couldn’t always distinguish which ingredients were which. When I turned the texts into Braille, though, the translations were perfect. Thus, I’ve stuck with Braille labels.”

“And the books you wouldn’t let me read…”

“Were translated into Braille.” He glanced downwards. “I didn’t want to explain why they were in Braille because I suspected you would figure out my secret. If you didn’t, I didn’t want you messing with the books and cracking their codes.”

“Because they’re dark books?”

“No, most of them are potion books. There’s nothing dark about them. Some are books on minimizing the effects of venom in others.” He looked in her direction. “Just because it’s too late for me doesn’t mean it isn’t too late for others. I could cure them if given the chance.”

“No, it may not be too late for you,” she argued. “We can find a cure for your blindness. All we need are a few books, some time, and a little luck. Still, if we try, we can do this.”

“You don’t think I haven’t been trying to cure myself for the past five years?” He snapped. “I’ve created every prototype I could think of, gone to every healer Draco recommended, and done everything I was told to do by the professionals. That potion and those eyedrops were my last chance of slowing down the effects of the potion.”

“And those are the medications giving your hand the tremors.”

“Yes.” He flexed his hand. “I’m done chasing a cure. It’s best to accept my life as it is and hide being blind for as long as I can. The fewer people who know about my condition, the better.”

“And now you’re in a public relationship, which could blow all that to pieces.” She gulped.

“Nobody said I excelled at thinking things through.”

“You’re excellent at thinking things through; it’s just…” She slouched, “I burst into your life and complicated everything.”

“In your defense, I’m not blind yet,” he argued. “There’s a chance I can continue to convince people that I can see so they’ll continue to buy my potions.”

“People are going to start asking questions if they see how many bruises you have.”

“Nobody cares about the greasy git getting a few bruises.”

She took his hand and held it as gently as she could. “I care if you are injured.”

His eyes went in her direction. “You do?”

“I do,” she answered. “And your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” He relaxed. “I would like a few more years of people trusting me to brew potions. I’m not foolish enough to think anyone would trust a blind person to brew their potions, no matter how well I can actually do it.”

“Don’t count yourself out yet. You could be a trailblazer, someone who sets an example for others and gives hope to other blind and disabled people who want to go into potions.”

“I’m not a positive role model, nor do I want to be a trailblazer.” He squeezed her hand. “I only want to do what I love and live my life without people pitying me.”

“I feel a lot of things towards you, but pity isn’t one of them.”

His lips curled upwards. “You actually mean that, don’t you?”

She leaned closer to him and whispered, “I do.”

“I’m glad I can still see your eyes right now,” he continued. “I can’t see much in front of me, but when you’re close like this, I can see you. It’s a relief to know you are sincere.”

“I wouldn’t lie about this to you.” Hermione slid closer to him. “Just don’t give up on a cure. You can still find it. I can help you do it.”

“I’ve learned it’s better not to give up on myself, regardless of whether or not I can see.”

“I won’t give up on you either.”

“And I won’t give up on you.”

Together they sat in silence, savoring the moment that they found someone who believed in them, even after knowing their deepest, darkest secrets.

Chapter Text

“She’s cuddling him now?”

“Yes.” Ron paced from one end of Harry’s sitting room to the other, his face as red as his hair. “Apparently, she spent all of last night in his arms. They were both happy to wake up in each other's arms."

“I,” Harry shook his head. “I thought she only wanted to be held by you. She said several times you would be the only man who would ever hold her.”

“It isn't that way anymore. According to Hermione, I didn’t cuddle her the way Severus does. Just another reason the greasy git is better than me.”

“That.” Harry twisted his lips as he shifted his position on the leather sofa. “That’s just weird and more than a little creepy.”

“I know!” Ron stopped in front of him and threw up his hands. “The whole thing is messed up. I have no idea why any of this is happening!”

“I have no idea why this is happening either.” Bile raced up Harry’s throat. “I mean, Snape was in love with my mum. Now he’s cuddling Hermione and acting like my mother never existed.”

“I don’t know why you two are so surprised they're cuddling,” Luna began from the recliner beside Harry. “You already knew they were kissing each other and sleeping together. Why wouldn't they cuddle?”

“Because cuddling implies she really likes the git.” Ron made two fists. “At first, I thought they were just fucking. Now, they’re acting like they’re in a real romantic relationship!”

“That makes sense given that they are in a real romantic relationship,” Luna answered in a gentle voice.

“No, they aren’t.” Ron shook his head.

“If they are kissing and sleeping in the same bed, then they are in a real romantic relationship.”

“No, Hermione can’t be in a romantic relationship with the greasy git. Something is going on. There’s a reason we broke up, and it has nothing to do with not wanting to argue and thinking I'm shite at cuddling.”

“Why wouldn’t Hermione want a relationship in which she doesn’t argue with her partner all the time?” Luna put a hand over her swollen pelvis. “It seems that she would want the peace of coming home to a supportive partner, not one who is yelling at her over every little thing.”

“She doesn’t want peace. She wants to nag and argue.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Of course I am. She likes to argue.”

“Does she like to fight?”

“Fight, argue—what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that sometimes you two took your arguments too far and said some very hurtful things to each other.”

“Yes, but we always made up.” Ron’s lips curled upwards. “We had so much fun making up.”

Harry’s stomach churned. The last thing he needed to hear about was which man was gracing Hermione’s bed or what he was doing once he was there.

“This whole thing doesn’t make sense.” Ron tensed. “There’s something she isn’t telling me. Everything she’s doing is weird. I have no idea why any of this is happening.”

“Perhaps you should give her some space and allow her to come to you in her own time,” Luna suggested.

“So the greasy git can continue getting his grubby hands all over her?”

“If she wants him to touch her, then there isn’t much you can do about it.”

“But Hermione loves me!” Ron pointed to himself. “Two weeks ago, she loved me and only me, not some greasy git nineteen years older than her! She loved me, a man her own age, not some old greasy git!”

“Please don’t remind me of his age,” Harry groaned and shook his head. “Snape was in love with my mother. It’s weird to think he’s cuddling and kissing my best friend now.”

“That’s true.” Ron’s eyes lit up. “He is in love with Harry’s mum. He always has been, and always will be.”

“I highly doubt he’s still in love with someone who has been dead for over two decades,” Luna cut in.

“It’s Snape. Of course he still loves Harry’s mum, even if Hermione won’t admit it.”

“Look, I don’t know if he’s still in love with her,” Harry argued, “but he did love her for years. It is odd that he just shut those feelings off.”

“So why don’t you tell Hermione that?” Ron asked.

Harry blinked.

“You should remind ‘Mione of how creepy this whole thing is. Once she realizes that if your mum were alive, Snape would still be pining after her. Then, she may tell me what is actually happening since she’ll realize Snape doesn’t really love her. With any luck, we can get back together by the end of the week.”

“Do you really want to get back together with someone who wants to cuddle with Snape?” Harry asked.

“I want ‘Mione back.” Ron’s throat constricted. “The house is empty without her. I go to bed, but there’s nobody beside me. I want to talk to someone about my day at work, but there’s nobody there making me tea. I want to kiss someone, but all I have is empty space beside me. I miss her so much that it’s hurting me.”

“I know this is difficult.” Luna rose and waddled towards him. “You must be lonely. It has to hurt that she left you.”

“I just want her back.” Tears trickled down Ron’s eyes. “I want her back in my house and for her to stop living next to Snape. I want the greasy git gone once and for all so we can go back to being happy.”

“I know this breakup is hard for you.” Luna embraced him. “Still, Hermione has made her choice. We have to respect it.”

“But is it an informed choice?”

Luna and Ron turned to Harry.

“I mean, does she truly understand how much Snape loved my mum and how that love could be eternal?” Harry stood.

“I’m certain they’ve discussed it.” Luna rubbed Ron’s back.

“I know, and Hermione did see the memories of them together. Still.” Harry swallowed. “I’m an Auror. If something illegal is occurring, I need to know.”

“I saw Hermione,” Luna’s voice came out as a warning. “She isn’t under the effects of an Imperius or a love potion. Everything they’re doing together is completely consensual.”

“I need to see that for myself.” Harry glanced at the fireplace across the room. “Ron’s right: this whole thing reeks of something sinister. I need Hermione to understand how much she is hurting everyone with this affair and convince her that Snape is not the man she thinks he is. Then, she can rejoin us, and we can be a family again.”

“Thank you,” Ron squeaked.

“Hang in there.” Harry rubbed his back. “Somehow, we’ll get the Golden Trio back. This Snape thing will get resolved one way or another.”

“Are you sure you should be aiming to reunite the Golden Trio?” Luna asked.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“People change.” Luna released Ron. “Hermione may be undergoing a change, one which will take her away from Ron. This means the Golden Trio must take on a different form as you adjust to your new reality.”

“‘Mione and I are supposed to grow old together, not grow old with Snape living next door and cuddling up with her,” Ron argued.

“He’s right,” Harry answered. “We promised each other that nothing would ever come between us. We promised that we’d be together forever no matter what happens.”

“You can be together in a different way.”

“How?”

“Give it time, and the possibilities will present themselves.”

“I know you’re trying to help.” Harry kissed her cheek. “But something’s not right. It’s time to figure out what it is, if only so Hermione doesn’t live the rest of her life feeling like a substitute for my mother.”

Luna exhaled.

“Thank you.” Ron embraced Harry. “You’re an amazing friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend too.” Harry embraced him, more determined than ever to talk some sense into Hermione.

***

“Ominis Gaunt was born blind and had a sentient wand.” Hermione turned the page of her book. “The spells to operate it were quite complex and required quite a bit of magic. Still, you are more powerful than he is. Surely you can manage them.”

Severus hummed as he lay down on the sofa. When Hermione had recommended reading to him, he balked at the idea, claiming he was not a child and did not need to be treated as such. Still, they needed something to do before the owl delivered his concussion-curing potion. Hermione insisted reading would be too strenuous for his brain. Given that he still had a bit of a headache, he couldn’t find it within himself to argue with her. 

“With the advances in today’s world, those spells are no longer necessary. It is a testament to magic that we have helped so many invalids,” Hermione continued from the leather chair to his right.

“Until they couldn’t,” Severus grumbled. “And I’m not an invalid. I can function fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“I know, and ‘invalid’ was a bad word.” She paused. “It was quite ableist to say.”

“I suppose I should get used to it, even though I know I’m more capable of things than anyone will give me credit for.”

“Yes, though you could help yourself more than you are.”

“How?”

“You could start by finding a way to move around and not crash into things.”

He twisted his lips, unwilling to concede her point.

“Ooh.” Hermione’s voice betrayed her excitement. “It says here there are famous blind wizards.”

“I know, but look at their professions.” Severus shifted himself so the purple pillow was propping his back up more effectively.

“Okay, there’s Tiresias, who was a seer; there’s Jacob Smith, who robbed a Gringotts because he was completely destitute and nobody would hire him.” She paused. “Okay, bad example of a famous blind wizard.”

“Indeed.”

“There’s Mopsus, who was a seer; Tabitha Rowland, who was a seer; and Veronica Reubens, who embezzled money from his father’s business because he had just been disinherited and nobody trusted him to create quality cauldrons.”

“Are you sensing a pattern?”

“Yes.” The cushions of her chair shifted. “Everyone in this book is either a seer or impoverished.”

“Indeed.” Severus sat, wincing at the throbbing of his head. “I’m either forced into a profession I have no desire or aptitude for, or I’m thrown away until I starve.”

“Which would be a tragedy since you can still work, just not in the field everyone restricts you to.”

“Exactly.”

She closed the book. “We need to find the spell to make your wand sentient then.”

“I’ve already found a few.” He turned in her direction.

“Great,” she answered. “Why are you too stubborn to use them?”

“Because they take an extraordinary amount of training.”

“Training?”

“Indeed,” he stretched. “You must first use magic to keep the wand sentient, and you must know where you’re going and which obstacles to avoid. You must train it to know how to avoid obstacles as well. Also, it’s dangerous to use a wand to guide you in the lab due to the magic expended.”

“Because the magic could seep into the ingredients and change their composition, thus contaminating them.”

“Exactly.”

Hermione hummed. “I suppose you could use a seeing-eye dog or a walking stick.”

“People would know I was blind just watching me walk.”

“Right now they think you’re clumsy.”

“People can tolerate a clumsy potions master. They cannot tolerate a blind one.”

“I don’t know. After speaking with you, I’d rather have a blind potions master who wasn't at risk of knocking over half his potion ingredients and turning himself into a half-cat hybrid in the process.”

He smirked. “Now that would be a sight.”

She chuckled. “Indeed it would.”

“Then again," his frown returned, "I couldn’t see it.”

"You said you still have some eyesight.”

“I will not for much longer.”

She shifted in her chair.

He shook his head. “The longer I can hide being blind, the more money I’ll earn. If I earn enough money, I can build up a little bit of a cash fund. I could live off it for a few years before I sell my house and begin begging for some kind of pension for my role in the war. If I’m lucky, the people filling out my paperwork won’t deny me based on the fact I was a git to them in school.”

“Or we could convince people you can still do your job despite your blindness.”

“How would you propose to do that?”

She took a deep breath. “I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Please do.” He leaned back on the sofa. “If you can help me keep my job, then you will have paid me back ten times over for this whole fake relationship mess.”

“I’ll do what I can. Then again.” She dragged her foot on the floor. “I can’t even control my magic. As far as proving people wrong, I fear I’m in a worse position than you are.”

He extended his hand. “It will get better. Somehow, you will find a way to survive your condition.”

“I’m going to find a cure.” She squeezed his hand. “Somehow, I’m going to find a cure for myself, and then I’ll cure you. Then, we won’t need to worry about tripping into things or exploding ovens or having a baby that's a squib. I can get my life back, and you can continue to live your life on your own terms.”

“You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“And you shouldn’t be so pessimistic.”

“I’m a realist.” He swallowed. “We need to consider what our lives will look like if there is no cure for our conditions.”

“I don’t need to do that because there are cures for us," she argued.

He sighed.

“You will see,” her voice was louder. “I am going to cure us. All you need to do is have faith in me.”

“I do have faith in you. Still, I’ve learned that realism is a better solution in these situations than unchecked optimism.”

“This isn’t unchecked optimism.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “You’ll see. In a year, I’ll have my magic back and be reconciled to Ron. In the meantime, you will be brewing potions and making a fortune.”

Severus’ chest constricted at the thought of her back in Mr. Weasley’s arms. Hermione deserved better than the ginger git, a fact that was becoming clearer with every violent attack he endured. Then again, fate brought her and Mr. Weasley together. They were the Golden Couple, the ones everyone wanted to emulate. It was foolish to fight fate, a lesson he’d already learned the hard way.

Still, Hermione didn't deserve to be with a brute who screamed at her every night. Right now, she had a chance to escape their toxicity. Was there a way to make Hermione understand that she deserved better than what she had received in her life? Could Severus give her the freedom she needed? Did she have a chance to escape the fate Eileen Prince had endured?

Before Severus could consider how prudent it was to express his concerns about Mr. Weasley to Hermione, a whoosh filled the room. Then, there was heat from the fireplace.

“Hermione?” Pause. “Hermione, are you there?”

Hermione released his hand as he scowled in the direction of the fireplace.

Why must Potter interrupt at the least opportune times?

Chapter Text

Harry scowled as he dusted the soot from his robes. He needed to speak with Hermione when she was alone and free of Severus' influence. The last thing he wanted was Severus pulling a Slytherin tactic, which would persuade her to remain by his side or drop hints that a secret would be exposed if she thought about leaving him.

Yet, Severus was standing before him holding Hermione's hand, smirking as if he belonged in Hermione's house, uncaring that Ron belonged there much more than he ever did.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice lacked emotion. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Indeed it is quite pleasant,” Severus deadpanned, looking every bit like the slimy snake who'd just eaten a nest of mice. “My day is not complete until you grace my doorstep.”

Hermione glared at him, but Severus didn’t react. In fact, he wasn’t even meeting her eyes. At least Ron said her eyes were beautiful. The greasy git couldn't even manage that.

“Yes, well, I was hoping I could speak to Hermione.” Harry lowered his voice. “Alone.”

“Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of him,” she argued.

“Are you certain he wants to hear what I have to say?”

“Of course I do,” Severus cut in. “I hang on your every word.”

She shoved an elbow into his ribs. His smirk faded as he looked in her direction, still not meeting her eyes.

“Maybe it's best that I have both of you together anyway.” Harry straightened his robes. “That way I don’t have to repeat myself.”

“What do you wish to tell us?” Hermione asked.

“Hermione, this whole thing with Snape.” His voice trailed off as his eyes fell on their intertwined hands. “It’s, uh, quite sudden and weird.”

“For whom?” She asked.

“All of us,” Harry answered. “First, you were so in love with Ron that you were thinking about moving in with him. Now, you are holding hands with Snape. It’s just, uh, weird that you are holding hands with him.”

“Why would you find that weird? People in a relationship tend to touch each other.”

“Yes, but not Snape.” Harry pointed to Severus. “He doesn’t touch people, not even when he’s in a relationship.”

“How do you know how I behave when I’m in a relationship?” Severus asked. “It is not as if we’ve ever been romantically involved.”

“For which I’m grateful.”

“On that we agree.”

Harry locked eyes with him. “But you have been involved with my mother.”

Severus pressed his lips together.

“You were in love with her from the moment you saw her,” Harry continued. “If you had your way, you would be married to her right now, not holding hands with my best friend. You fought in a war because you loved her. Everything you did was for her...”

“Does this history lesson have a point?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, it means that not only is Severus nineteen years older than you, but he was, and still is, in love with my mother.”

“How would you know who I am still in love with?” Severus snapped, a flicker of rage in his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Harry argued. “You still love my mother.”

“Potter, I do not want to be in a relationship with your mother. She is a bit too...” he twisted his lips, “deceased to be my lover.”

“Yes, but someone like you must understand what it is to have a love that will never die.” Harry pointed to Hermione. “Just like Hermione and Ron have.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that people are capable of moving on with their lives and finding fulfillment in other relationships?” Severus argued. “Surely you understand the concept of moving onto another lover, given your relationships with Ginevra and Luna.”

“Ginny is different. I didn’t agree to be a double spy for her, nor did I attempt to kill someone and his child to make her notice me.”

Severus opened his mouth.

“That’s enough.” Hermione stepped forward but did not release Severus’ hand. “Severus did not kill your father. Voldemort did. Severus has saved far more lives than he took, something I thought you understood and respected.”

“I do respect all he’s done. He has saved the wizarding world more times than any of us can count.”

“Then act like he’s a war hero who deserves your respect.”

“Hermione, are you in love with him, or is this some type of misplaced hero worship?”

“I don’t worship him as a hero. I see him as a person who has complex feelings and is capable of caring for someone very deeply.” She moved closer to him. “I’m extremely fortunate he chose to care for me.”

“Indeed, I care for Hermione.” Severus rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I care very deeply for her, much more deeply than I have ever cared for any other woman.”

“Deeper than you cared for Lily?”

“In many ways, yes.”

Hermione’s eyes grew as she turned to him. Harry’s mouth hung open.

“Lily was my first, and for many years only, friend." Severus was nonchalant, as if he hadn't noticed their expressions. "Still, she struggled to look past my lack of wealth and my lack of social grace. Despite the fact that James was bullying me, she continued to socialize with him, at times even engaging in flirting with the bastard. When I said one of the most hurtful things in a moment of weakness, she never forgave me for it. In that way, she could be wrathful.”

“‘Mudblood’ is a horrible term, a fact even you have to recognize,” Harry argued.

Severus winced.

“Yes, but he was in distress when he said it,” Hermione cut in. “If I were being hung upside down and humiliated, I cannot imagine myself being any more tactful.”

“You wouldn’t use a slur.”

“What if I did? What if I used a slur against you? Would you forgive me?”

“You would never do that, not like how he did.”

“How do you know? Anyone can say anything under a moment of stress.”

“Fine, he was stressed when my dad and his friends attacked him, but what about all those times he insulted you by calling you a bushy-haired know-it-all and saying he saw no difference when your teeth grew? I suppose he was just stressed then.”

“He was extremely stressed.” She squeezed his hand. “Unless you consider being a double spy a relaxing profession.”

Harry snarled as he formulated his next few words.

“Hermione takes me as I am right now.” Severus squeezed her hand. “She accepts my past as well as my present.”

“And I will accept his future as well.” She leaned onto his shoulder. “I will be with him in whatever capacity he needs me to be.”

“I promise you the same thing.” A hint of a smile graced his face.

“Oh God.” Harry’s eyes darted between Severus and Hermione. “You two mean that, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Severus asked. “When I am not spying, I am honest with those I care about.”

“No, but you are nineteen years older than her and still saying these things.”

“I don't care that he's older than me. Age is just a number. Who we are now is all that matters,” Hermione cut in. 

“And you’re fine with this.” Harry turned to her again. “You’re fine sacrificing the love of your life for Severus bloody Snape?”

“I’m fine with moving on to a healthier relationship.” She furrowed her eyebrows. 

"Your relationship with Ron was fine."

"All we did was scream at each other."

“Yes, but you always made up because you were in love with Ron.”

“Yes, and now I’m in a relationship with Severus.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be with him.”

“Fine, you want to throw your life away. I guess there isn’t anything I can do to stop you.” Harry wagged his finger. “But do not come crying back to Ron and me if he behaves in a way that reminds everyone of why my mother dumped him.”

Severus opened his mouth.

“How dare you throw his mistakes back in his face like that?” Hermione snapped. “Severus has grown and changed, something I thought you understood.”

“Right now, I don’t understand anything either of you are doing,” Harry argued. “I thought you loved and wanted Ron. Now, he’s nothing to you.”

“I care for Ron, but we can’t be together now.”

“But you could be in the future?”

A tear formed in Hermione’s eye.

“You aren’t as okay with this breakup as you want Severus to think, are you?” Harry approached her.

She took a deep breath. “I regret that I hurt Ron and wish things had ended on a less hurtful note. Still, I don’t regret being with Severus. I need him, and he needs me.”

Harry’s voice was gentle. “Ron needs you too.”

“Not the way I need Severus and the way he needs me,” Hermione argued.

“Hermione, if you want to let go of Severus’ hand…”

“No.” She squeezed it harder. Severus bit his tongue and winced. “I am with Severus now. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can all move on.”

Harry glanced at Severus.

“You have a choice, Potter,” Severus’ voice was low. “You can either accept our relationship and wish us happiness, or you can keep your opinions to yourself and be miserable away from us. The choice is yours.”

“What if I choose to protect my friend?”

“Then I suggest you tell Mr. Weasley to get his temper under control. If I am hexed one more time, the results will be unpleasant.”

“Wait,” Harry drawled. “He’s been able to hex you?”

“Yes, because unlike Ron, Severus has self-control and doesn’t want me to be injured in the middle of a fight,” Hermione argued. “An aversion to violence is appreciated in a romantic partner.”

“I thought you believed it was romantic that Ron would fight for you. You said one of the things you loved most about him is that you were forged in combat and always had each other’s backs. You said there was no other bond like that, none you could imagine being so strong.”

“There’s a difference between fighting a Death Eater and fighting a close friend because we’re holding hands.”

“He loves you.”

“Love isn’t always enough to keep two people together.”

“The hell it isn’t.” Harry’s voice was louder. “Love can overcome anything, even shitty behavior and hexing the person your lover is cheating with!”

“No, it can’t,” Hermione argued. “Love can’t overcome everything.”

“How certain are you of that?”

“Certain enough to ask you to leave.”

Harry blinked.

“Just go,” Hermione’s voice cracked. “You aren’t welcome here anymore.”

Harry stared at her, trying to formulate an argument against her.

“You heard her.” Severus took a step towards him. “You need to leave now.”

“Fine.” Harry huffed. “But this isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is.”

Harry glared at Severus. “You don’t speak for Hermione.”

“Neither do you,” Hermione argued.

“Hermione…”

“I told you to leave.” She pointed to the fireplace. “You need to go now.”

Harry huffed. “This isn’t over. Somehow, I’m going to figure out what is happening. With any luck, you’ll still be able to fix your life.”

“Goodbye, Harry,” Hermione retorted.

“I’ll go.” Harry swallowed. “Just know if you ever need anything…”

“Goodbye, Harry!”

Harry frowned before strolling to the fireplace. He took the powder, called out Ron’s address, and then stepped through.

***

Hermione dropped Severus’ hand and exhaled.

“Hermione,” Severus cleared his throat. “I apologize for Potter’s abhorrent behavior.”

“Why?” She shrugged. “Him being an arse isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, but someone needs to apologize for his behavior. I doubt he ever will.”

“You’re probably right about that.” She returned to her chair.

“The things he said about Lily.” He stepped toward her.

“Here.” She took his hand. “Let me help you.”

He opened his mouth to argue until he felt his touch on hers. His body relaxed as she guided him.

“There you go.” She helped him sit. “I apologize for interrupting. What do you want to say?”

“Potter was wrong about Lily,” Severus answered. “I loved her at one time, but I no longer hold those sentiments towards her. She is nothing more than the glow of a pleasant memory. Yet even that is tainted by the reality that she would never feel the same way about me as I did her.”

“I know.” Hermione took her seat.

“You do?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “You are free now in every way. It only makes sense that with Dumbledore not holding Lily’s death over your head, you would find some healing.”

“That is exactly what happened.” He leaned back. “When I was recovering from Nagini’s wound, I realized that if the positions were reversed, she would not have done everything for me that I did for her and her memory. In fact, she would have done everything to forget I existed. Since leaving the hospital, I've come to realize how one-sided our relationship truly was. Even during our youth, I put more into making our friendship work than she did. During the war, it hurt too much to admit that. Now it’s quite liberating to admit the truth and be free of her.”

“Liberating?”

“Yes, I am free from the past and ready to move into the future, or,” he shook his head, “as much of one as I can have given my condition.”

“I told you, we’ll think of something. Somehow, we’ll help you recover your sight.”

“Perhaps we will.”

“I know we will.” Some papers shifted in her lap. “We’re in this relationship together. Somehow, we’re going to help each other thrive, regardless of what everyone else around us says or does.”

His lips curled upwards. “I quite like the idea of you remaining by my side.”

“Good, because that’s the kind of friend you deserve.” She opened the book. “You deserve someone who will accept you for who you are and support your choices.”

“I could say the same of you.”

“I already have that with you.” Her voice cracked. “I thought I did with Harry and Ron too.”

“Hermione, you could still have that.”

“Could I?” She asked. “I mean, I thought I had that, but after seeing Ron attack you and hearing Harry talk about you with such disdain, perhaps they are not the people I believed them to be.”

“They are behaving as they are because you are not behaving as the person they thought you were.”

“Yes, things have changed over the last few weeks.” She paused. “More than I wanted them to.”

“Indeed.”

“Still, I can get my life back.” Her voice was steeped in uncertainty. “Somehow, I’ll overcome Bellatrix’s curse. Then, I’ll force Ron and Harry to admit that they were wrong about you. They will apologize, and everything will be as it was. In fact, it will be better because you will have helped cure me. They’ll have no choice but to realize what an amazing man you are after that.”

“Or so you say.”

“I do say so.”

There was silence.

“It will happen. I’ll make sure it does,” she continued.

“I’m sure you will.” Severus’ voice was soft, unable to shake the feeling that the new world Hermione was creating was much more chaotic and unwelcoming than the old one was.

Chapter Text

Severus was the most ornery patient Hermione had ever endured.

The second the tremors in his hand ceased was the second he demanded to return to brewing. He insisted that there was no need for caution. Everything would be fine, thank you very much. Her medical journals told her differently.

“Has it ever occurred to you that not every patient is like the ones in your medical journals?” He argued as he heard the click of a key locking the door to his potions lab.

“Of course it has,” she replied. “Medical textbooks focus upon averages, though certain case studies involve extraordinary individuals.”

“And has it ever occurred to you that I am one of those extraordinary individuals?”

“You are an extraordinary individual, though in this case, you are like every other patient with a concussion.” She stepped into his line of sight.

“And you would know this how?"

"Because as much of an extraordinary individual who has accomplished amazing things as you are, you are still a human being. You deserve to be safe and live a good life, which is why you will not return to your labs until you clear concussion protocol.”

“It’s been over twenty-four hours. Surely the potion has taken effect by now.”

“It takes two doses of concussion potions over the course of forty-eight hours to fully heal a concussion.”

“I know.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Then apply what you know and spend the day resting."

“Why? I have brewed with a concussion before, then taught a class the next day. I was fine.”

“I was your student. While I don’t know exactly when you had a concussion, I can say that some days you were sharper and snarlier than others. Most days, you were downright impossible to deal with.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t a perfect professor, but I was effective.”

"You did an outstanding job teaching potions and defense against the dark arts anyway."

“Yes, and I am one of the reasons you made it into medical school."

“True, you deserve much credit for helping me become the woman I am today,” she answered. “It’s because I’m the woman you helped mold me into that I’m not allowing you to brew until you’ve cleared concussion protocol.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Instead, we are going to do something else with our time.”

“Like what?”

“We can research.” She stepped out of his line of sight.

“If I cannot brew, what makes you think I can research?” He asked.

“You aren’t going to kill anyone if you miss a few words while reading a book, whereas if you add the wrong ingredient or are too slow on your reflexes, then you could blow up our houses.” She stopped. “I would prefer not to move because my house caught fire due to allowing my neighbor to brew while he was not at his best.”

“Now you are throwing my words back at me.”

“Are they working?”

He bit back his agreement.

“If you get too exhausted, we can go out on another date. It will do everyone good to see us in public together,” she continued.

“Are you sure that is wise given the way Potter and Weasley behaved upon seeing us in the same house together?”

She tapped her foot. “Admittedly, I would prefer not to be called a whore or have Ron think there’s no hope of reconciliation. There is a chance I could push Ron away too hard, meaning reconciliation between us would be too difficult to achieve.”

“Then perhaps going out together is not advisable," he answered.

“If we stick to holding hands or playing footsie, we should be able to accomplish our mission without upsetting Ron too much.”

“Is that what you want?”

She didn’t speak for a moment. “It’s what I need.”

He blinked.

"Why are you giving me that look?"

"Because I'm not certain he will take you back after discovering you enjoy being in my arms more than you do his."

“Look, I’ll deal with all the logistics later.” She waved her hand. “Let’s just research and take everything from there.”

“Fine,” Severus answered before seeing her hand in his line of sight.

“Do you need help getting to the library?” Her voice was gentle.

He opened his mouth to bark at her for thinking he was a child before thinking better of it. The last thing he needed was to fall and have her fussing over him about having another concussion. Besides, he wasn’t opposed to feeling her body against his and reveling in the softness of her touch.

It was this impulse that led him to reach out his hand and allow her to lead him to his library.

***

Hermione was relieved that she could Accio a book from the top shelf the first time she cast the spell. Could that mean her condition was improving? Was there a chance this magical core depletion would resolve itself? Did this mean she could resume her old life sooner rather than later?

Her inability to accio a book for Severus on the first try dampened that hope. No matter. Somewhere, there was a cure. All she needed to do was find it. Then, she could be published and resume the perfect life she'd been building.

“Here,” Severus pulled out his wand. “Accio book.”

The book landed in his hand. She raised an eyebrow. “How did you do that?”

“When performing a spell, I can sense my magic and how it is affecting the objects around me,” he replied.

“Did you find a spell to do that?”

“No, anyone can sense magic.” He opened the book. “Most people have no need to sense magic, so they ignore the sensation of it when it’s used. Still, it is something everyone is capable of.”

“Oh.” She took the book from him. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” He turned around and extended his hand. After taking a few steps, he grabbed the side of his chair. With care, he maneuvered himself until he could sit in it.

She opened her book, hoping something within Ancient Dark Spells and How to Combat Them could help.

“Vă rugăm să faceți acest text în Braille,” he intoned.

Hermione watched as a golden mist surrounded Severus’ book. Then, it landed upon the book, creating a silver glow. After a few moments, Severus ran his fingers along the page.

Hermione opened her book to the chapter on spells that inhibited one’s ability to use magic. At first, she was focused, but every few seconds her attention would wander to Severus. His finger was running along the words before he turned to the first page.

Severus' fingers were so elegant, long, and alluring. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like for those hands to run along her cheek, cupping her chin, then wandering down to the side of her body. Ron had a nasty habit of groping her, his touches too desperate to offer any comfort or care for her. Yet Severus’ touch was so deliberate, so gentle, so inviting. It would be an experience to have these fingers run along the most sensitive parts of her body.

“Have you found anything useful yet?” Severus’ fingers kept running along the book, not looking in her direction.

“No.” She shuddered, wondering how it would feel for her breasts to be cusped by those long, elegant, alluring fingers. “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“Very well.” He turned the page.

She cleared her throat before returning her attention to her book. For a moment, the idea of using aconite was appealing. If it could affect the magical core of a werewolf enough to keep them rational despite the transformation, then it could work for people with her condition. Perhaps dandelion stems would work as well. Those were said to have healing properties. Then again, how could they be mixed together? What would enhance and stabilize the ingredients? Could these be used to help Severus as well?

“Have you discovered anything promising yet?” Severus asked.

“I have a few ideas.” She looked up.

“Great.” He turned in her direction. “It’s difficult to know what you are thinking when you are so quiet, and I cannot see the light in your eyes.”

“The light in my eyes?”

“Yes, when you have an idea, your eyes light up.” He swallowed. “As a student, I learned to expect a headache when they did so. As an adult, though, there was something…endearing about it.”

“Endearing?”

“Yes, it shows that you had progressed beyond simple regurgitation and multiple tangents to real analysis of a problem. You can come up with amazing solutions, things few others have dreamed of.”

“Thank you.” She blushed. “I didn’t know you’d ever noticed how much I’d changed.”

“I did, even if I never said anything. Even if I can't see everything I would like, I notice you. I see every little difference I can.” He turned to his book.

She approached him and put her face near his. “Can you see me now?”

His smile melted her heart. “I do see you now. You are quite pleased with yourself.”

“I think I’ve found some ideas for a prototype of a potion.”

“You have?” He moved closer to her.

“Yes.” She touched his thigh. “I think aconite may prove useful.”

“Why aconite?”

“Because it stabilizes the magical core of werewolves enough so that they can retain their rationality. It could work to stabilize and later repair a magical core.”

“Intriguing.”

“I was thinking of stabilizing it with dandelion stems.”

“If you added a rat’s tooth, it would enhance the efficacy.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and perhaps toad’s tongue.”

“How many tongues would I need?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was husky. “But I’m sure we'll need more than two. Perhaps three?”

“Three sounds nice.” Her heart fluttered.

“Very well then.” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“Severus?”

He hummed.

Before Hermione could utter another word, her stomach rumbled. She stepped away, feeling her face turning red. “I, uh, think I’m hungry.”

“I’m getting a little hungry myself,” he admitted.

“You should be. You barely had anything for breakfast.”

“I had a piece of toast.”

“That isn’t much.”

“It’s enough for me most days.”

“Well,” she said, standing straighter. “There’s a place called Cafe Luxembourg. I’ve never tried it out. Would you like to go with me?”

“I would not be opposed to eating lunch there.” He stood.

“Good,” She cleared her throat. “Uh, do you need to do anything to get ready?”

“No, my wallet is in my pants pocket already, so I’m ready to go.”

“Good, let me grab my wallet, and we can leave. It wouldn’t be fair to make you pay for everything. I’m not the kind of woman to shirk her independence like that.”

“The last thing I would ever want to do is stifle your independence.” He gave her a small grin.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Hermione stepped away, her body still warm from his touch and the idea that he respected her independence more than any other man ever had. Most men complained she was too pushy, too much of a nag, and too direct. Severus, though, appreciated all that more than anyone else ever had.

His soft eyes met hers. Her heart raced as her mouth dried. There was no need to pretend to be attracted to Severus today. The man was driving her wild. He was completely unaware of the power he was beginning to wield over her. Merlin, if that man knew how wild he could drive her, they'd both be ruined beyond all comprehension.

One day, he would be the end of her. It would be the most pleasant end anyone had ever experienced.

Chapter Text

“Well, you and Uncle Severus sure looked cozy together in yesterday’s paper.” Draco smirked as Hermione entered his office, Severus’ arm intertwined with hers. Although she attempted to smile, it was difficult given the events of the morning.

After struggling to use an Accio to select an outfit from her closet and failing to ignite the flames to fry her eggs, Hermione agreed to allow Severus to apparate her to Draco’s office. The last thing she needed was to lose a limb and have to explain the situation to her colleagues. Her colleagues would fawn over her, do everything they could to save her, and pity her. The last thing she needed was to see the sympathy in their eyes as they handed her a pink slip. 

That didn’t make it any less frustrating to be dependent on Severus for daily tasks.

“We were quite happy together, weren’t we, Severus?” She sat upon the examination table.

“Indeed we were.” He untangled himself from her and pulled his cane out of his pocket. After enlarging it, he turned around and took a few steps before it hit a chair. Allowing it to guide him, he sat.

“I take it you two discussed how much better of a boyfriend Uncle Severus is than Ron," Draco continued.

“Actually, we had a lovely conversation about potential cures." Hermione's smile was genuine as she remembered how Severus purred whenever he was impressed with one of her ideas, how his eyes lit up when he had an interesting idea, and how enjoyable it was to speak to someone who could keep up with her intellectually.

“That sounds quite nice," Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes." Hermione turned to Severus. "We also discussed how it’s hypocritical for someone to insist on taking their lover to a healer when they won’t get help for their own problems.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“She knows I'm going blind." Severus slumped.

“I see.” Draco folded his hands.

“I also know his healers are all idiots. I mean, putting Severus on a treatment where his hands shook was beyond ridiculous. What made anyone think that it was wise to have a potions master with unsteady hands?” She began, her face reddening.

“Sadly, I am not at liberty to discuss Severus’ case given that this is not his appointment and you are not authorized to receive his medical information," Draco replied.

“We will move on from my case. Still, we wanted you to know that I will not be seeing that particular healer again.” Severus crossed his arms over his chest.

“I knew Healer McDonald was a long shot.” Draco shook his head. “I had hoped things would go better for you.”

“So far you are the only healer who has examined me and had any amount of sense.”

“Coming from you, that is a high compliment indeed.” Draco stood. “Let’s see if Ms. Granger agrees with you when all is said and done.”

“If we can find a cure for my magical loss, I will consider you the best healer in the world.”

“Sadly, I can’t make any promises.” He motioned for her to lie down. “I can only make sure you are as healthy as possible as your magical core deteriorates. The last thing we need is for your condition to cause physical harm.”

“That won’t be an issue much longer, because we will find a cure.” She lay down.

“I understand that you want a cure. As I stated before, I cannot make any promises.”

“I know, but I’ve promised myself a cure. I fully intend to keep that promise.”

“In the meantime, I’ll do my best to keep you as comfortable as possible.”

“I’ll only be comfortable when I’m cured.”

“I know.” His voice was soft as he pulled out his wand. Then, he intoned, “Cum este miezul magic al pacientului meu?”

Draco’s wand emitted a green glow as he ran it along her torso. When it was over her abdomen, the wand was red. Above her chest, it glowed blue before fading.

“Your magical core is deteriorating at a predictable pace.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Severus asked.

“It means I’m not seeing anything out of the ordinary for the curse Bellatrix used.”

“Can the deterioration be slowed down?” Hermione asked.

“Again, it’s an old curse, and there isn’t much information on it.” Draco took a deep breath. “Any potion or spell will only keep your body stable as your core deteriorates.”

“What do you mean by ‘keep your body stable’?” Hermione asked.

“It means that sometimes a deteriorating magical core can cause atrial arrhythmias, liver damage, and appendicitis.”

“Great, more illnesses to worry about.” Severus put his head in his hands.

“We’ll find a cure for those too, assuming they even happen.” Her lips curled upwards. “With a little ingenuity, it will be as if I was never cursed. My body will be fine.”

“I can’t promise you will not develop complications,” Dragon warned, “but I can give you some potions that will improve your liver health, making cirrhosis less likely.”

“I don’t think it will be necessary. I’ll be fine.”

"Even if you are cured, it is wise to lower your chance of cirrhosis."

"No, that isn't necessary. I'll be fine."

“I would take the potion,” Severus interrupted.

Everyone turned to him.

“Cirrhosis is not noticeable in the beginning stages, but if it becomes too advanced, the results are extremely unpleasant." Severus' eyes betrayed his vulnerability. "The last thing you would ever want is to live with the condition once it progresses past a certain point."

Hermione swallowed as she imagined a jaundiced man yelling slurs at his son before punching his cheek so hard he stumbled backwards.

“I would also recommend taking a regime of vitamin potions, which will help boost your immunity as well,” Draco continued. “Sometimes, one can develop an autoimmune disease from changes in one’s magical core.”

She returned her attention to him. “If you don’t know much about the curse used on me, how do you know what potions to give me to protect my physical health?” 

“There are conditions that mimic yours. I’m using the research from them to form a treatment plan for you.”

“Then you’re going to cure me.”

“I’m looking into cures, but I’m also looking into accommodations you could use to make your life easier once you can no longer perform magic.”

“I don’t need accommodations.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “I am going to be cured.”

“Yes, but finding a cure will take time.” Draco’s tone was even. “In that time, you need to adjust to the limitations of your magic.”

Hermione opened her mouth.

“Exploring accommodations sounds like an excellent idea,” Severus cut in.

“No, it doesn’t,” Hermione argued. “My time should be spent finding a cure, not on acquiring accommodations.”

“Until that cure is found, you will need to deal with the effects of a deteriorating magical core,” Severus argued. “It’s best to live your life as comfortably and safely as possible until then. This will require accommodations.”

“How can I be comfortable without magic?”

Severus folded his hands. “You are resilient. You will find a way to live a fulfilling life regardless of the amount of magic you have.”

“My life won’t be fulfilling unless I have magic," she argued.

“No, it will be fulfilling without it.”

She frowned. “Would your life be fulfilling without magic?”

His gaze went upwards as he shifted.

“This isn’t about Uncle Severus,” Draco cut in. “This is about you and how you can live the best life possible.”

She opened her mouth again.

“As you look for a cure, you need to live a productive life regardless of whether or not you have magic. For the time being, that will require some accommodations," Draco argued.

She twisted her lips as he considered his words. The reality was she had struggled with more than selecting an outfit and frying eggs. That morning, she’d had to make three attempts to turn on the shower and another two to turn it off. Sleek-ezy’s took long to be effective as well, though her hair may just be having a bad morning. Even with her magic at full power, those days occurred.

“Fine,” she lowered her voice. “What kind of accommodations do you think I need?”

“I think the first thing you need is a Muggle shower. Severus could help you install one.”

She hummed.

“You will also need to invest in a Muggle microwave," Draco replied.

“Why? The magical one I have still works, as do heating spells.”

“Yes, but we don’t know how much longer that will last.”

She glared at Draco.

“We’ll go to the store and get one as soon as we’re done here.” Severus gave a pointed look in her direction. “Won’t we?”

She gritted her teeth. “I don’t feel like shopping today.”

“Yes, but you do feel like going on another date. Going on a date requires us to be out together, does it not?” He gave her that half smile that made her heart flutter.

“You want people to see us in a Muggle store together?”

“It would be no great tragedy for me to be seen with you in public. If that is at a Muggle store, then so be it.”

“How are we going to justify being there?”

“We can say that your parents need a new microwave.”

“True.” There was a gleam in her eyes. “And you are the dutiful potential son-in-law who only wants to make his girlfriend happy. It only makes sense for you to be there.”

“Exactly,” Severus purred.

Hermione suppressed the stupid grin threatening to grace her face.

“Good God, would you two get a room?” Draco shook his head.

“We will when we get home.” Hermione smirked.

Severus' lips twitched upwards.

“Well, you two will need to make an honest assessment of which utilities you can and cannot use. Then, you can adjust accordingly," Draco concluded.

“Fine, but the second I get my magic back, they’re all going to my parents or Arthur. He may want to examine them and learn how they work," Hermione replied.

Draco snorted. “Assuming he’ll ever look in your direction without spitting.”

“He’ll forgive me.” Her stomach knotted. “I’m like a daughter to him. Family always forgives.”

“Ginevra is his daughter, and he barely talks to her anymore. He says until she gets a real husband, the only interest he takes in her is our grandchildren. Even then, he visits our children far less than he visits his other grandchildren.”

“Did he really take that little interest in your family?”

“Yes." Draco sighed. "It hurts Ginevra to know how little her father cares for her, but she's learned to accept it. Scorpius doesn't care whether or not he's in his life. I doubt Cassie knows the name of her maternal grandfather."

Bile rose up Hermione’s throat as she imagined the look of disappointment in Arthur’s eyes upon learning the extent of her deception. Did his kindness have a limit, one she refused to see until now?

Draco returned his attention to the clipboard. “But you upgraded from the Weasleys to Uncle Severus, so you have the better end of the deal. I would enjoy my freedom and be happy with having a real man in my life. You deserve love, as does Uncle Severus. You two seem happy enough, so revel in it.”

“Indeed,” her throat was tight.

“Anyway, I’m going to prescribe a few potions for you. Read the instructions on them and take them exactly as prescribed. We wouldn’t want you to grow feathers on your neck.”

She squirmed.

“If you need help or more information. You can ask Uncle Severus or me for further instructions," Draco continued.

Hermione nodded as Draco continued speaking. She could barely make out what was being said. All she could think about was Arthur being less than willing to welcome her back into the family. Would that relationship be irrevocably broken? For over half her life, he had been a father figure to her. There were things he understood about her that her own father did not, things only a magical person could understand. Had she just thrown that connection away in the name of preserving Ron from being tied to a squib girlfriend?

“Can you repeat back what I just said?” Draco asked.

She blinked. “You, uh, put me on some potions, and I can talk to you and Severus about them.”

“Yes, but what were they?”

She gulped.

“May I have a quill and parchment?”

They turned to Severus.

“If you go over the potions again, I can write them down, along with their dosage. A visual reminder may be helpful for future reference,” he offered.

She relaxed. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“Indeed, and I will give you a parchment outlining everything that was said,” Draco answered.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” Draco smiled before repeating what he had said.

This time. Hermione listened as attentively as she could. Even if this information would be irrelevant in a few weeks, she needed to learn it, lest she ever treat someone in the same situation. By then, she would be living proof that every magical ailment had a cure.

Chapter Text

“Do you think we should have asked your father for advice regarding what kind of microwave to buy?" Severus asked, following the sound of Hermione humming a Muggle tune. If Severus wasn't mistaken, it was a song from the 80s, though he wouldn't bet too many galleons on that.

“No, because then he would ask why we needed a Muggle microwave,” Hermione argued. “We’d either have to make up a story about me wanting to reconnect with my muggle roots, which would only encourage him to bash Ron for the next half hour, or I’d have to tell him about my condition.”

“At some point, telling him about your condition may be inevitable.”

“I told you, I’ll find a cure…”

“No, I mean listening to him bash Mr. Weasley. Wilford has been eager for a chance to unleash years of pent-up frustrations towards him. At some point, it will all come out.”

“As long as it’s not on my wedding day, I don’t care.”

Severus’ stomach clenched at the image of her wearing a gaudy, poofy dress, marching into a sea of red hair. “Do you still want to marry Mr. Weasley?”

“No, not yet, I mean, I don’t know if I'll ever marry him, I mean,” she paused. “We’re here.”

“Good.” Severus stopped just before he could bump into her.

“Okay.” She tapped her foot. “Do we have any idea what we’re looking for?”

“We’re looking for something that microwaves food.”

“I know that,” she hissed. “But what features should it have? I know I won’t be using it for long, but when we’re done, I can give it to Arthur as a peace offering or give it to my dad to ease the sting of me telling him that you won’t become his son-in-law.”

Severus' stomach sank. “Pity. I quite like the idea of him as my father-in-law.”

Her feet shuffled. “You do?”

"I did."

There was a pause. "Ron always said he'd be the father-in-law from hell."

"There are far worse fathers to have." He shook his head. "One of which I was forced to endure."

"I didn't think about him acting like a father to you."

"He isn't a father per se, but I appreciate the affection he shows me."

“My dad loves me, but he always wanted a son. Sadly, Mum's ovarian cancer prevented her from having another child after me, meaning he never got the son he wanted.” She sighed. "He would say you're the closest thing he's had to the son he always wanted."

“If he thinks I’m the son he's always wanted, he must not have had very high expectations for his child.”

“Actually, he just wants someone who will look out for me and make me happy, which you do.”

“I do?”

“Yes," her voice was soft, "you look out for me and make me much happier than Ron ever did.”

His heart fluttered, though he could not understand why. Must have been the burrito he ate earlier. He knew he should’ve laid off the extra guacamole.

“Do you think a salesperson could help us find a new microwave?” Hermione asked, her voice lacking the previous vulnerability.

“I think they could help us pay a hundred pounds more than we need to spend," he huffed. "They do push those warranties and guarantees on you and won't let up until you agree to at least one.”

“True.” She answered. “You’ll need to look like you know what you’re doing if you don't want to pay more than necessary.”

“How exactly would I go about doing that?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’ll need to look like the strong man in control of everything, who knows what he wants, and won’t take anyone’s crap.”

“Even though it’s nothing but a facade.”

“Yes, because salespeople respond better to men who look like they know what they’re doing than to those who look lost.”

“Except I don’t know what I’m doing, I won’t be using the microwave, and I can’t even see the bloody thing.”

“Just ignore all those details.”

“Speaking of strong men,” he took a shaky breath. “If you disagree with my assessment of a microwave, am I just supposed to shout at you until the manager tells us to buy something or get the hell out of the store?” 

“No,” she drawled. “Just act like you agree with me, or calmly express your objection.”

He swallowed. “Fine.”

He waited for her to hum or step forward. Instead, she paused before saying, “Lock your arm into mine.”

“Excuse me?” He recoiled before what he imagined was her arm.

“If you want this plan to work, you need someone to guide you. I can't hum throughout the store. People may start giving us looks or telling me to stop humming Stevie Wonder songs while they’re trying to think.”

“True,” he curled his fingers. “Still, locking arms in public seems so…”

“Affectionate?”

“Yes.”

She moved closer to him. “Isn’t the goal to convince people we are a couple?”

“It is,” he admitted, “but not if you’re guiding me around the store like a toddler.”

“If you would get a white cane, I wouldn’t need to do that.”

“I’ll get on just fine without one.” He snorted and took a step forward.

“If you knock over the microwave display, you’re paying for every single thing you break. I doubt you’ll be getting along just fine after paying off the debt and attracting media attention.”

He paused mid-step.

“I’m also not going to be as gentle with you as I was when Ron hexed you. I was gentle when a patient was a victim of circumstance. I was a little rougher with patients I thought were idiots.”

“But you would play healer with me.” He purred as his lips curled upwards.

“Uh, yes, I suppose I would.” There was a slight stammer, the kind that let him know she was blushing.

“My, my, when you speak like that, I’m half tempted to forget this microwave shopping excursion altogether and return home.”

“You know.” She took another step towards him. “I don’t know how you can go from refusing to take my arm to flirting with me.”

“The former makes me feel like a child, whereas the latter,” he lowered his voice, “makes me feel like a man.”

“You're a man who is going to get crushed by a refrigerator if you do not take my arm and allow me to guide you." Her voice was more confident.

The mischief evaporated from his body. If he didn’t lock arms, he was liable to injure himself. If he did lock arms, his pride would be wounded. Both actions made him appear foolish, though he was more likely to be physically and financially harmed by the former.

“Severus?” Her voice was soft.

He locked arms with her. “Lead the way, my lady.”

“Your lady?” She drawled.

“Well, we are lovers. I may as well use something resembling a pet name with you.”

She pulled him closer. “Just look like you know what you’re doing and like I’m your lover.”

“I could say the same to you,” he answered.

“Great point.” The door chimed as she opened it. His body tensed as he expected the door to hit him. Yet, he stepped through without an issue. When he heard it close behind him, he turned to Hermione.

“Nothing’s going to happen.” Her voice was soft. “I won’t let you be injured.”

“So you won’t.” The statement came out more like a question than he would have liked. What made it more pathetic is that nobody had ever promised him he wouldn’t get hurt, at least nobody who intended to keep that promise.

Hermione pulled him forward. He listened for the sound of her footsteps and felt her body against his as he traversed the store. The music made listening to her difficult, but Hermione was proving to be a better guide than he gave her credit for.

“Okay, here are the microwaves.” She released him. “I, uh, forgot how many kinds of microwaves there were.”

“Indeed.” He looked in their direction, hoping he looked like he could read the big words on the boxes.

“I suppose we can get something inexpensive, although,” she tapped a box, “the cheap ones are smaller than I’d like.”

“You want one that is functional.”

“These are all functional…”

“No, I mean you want something that can actually hold the plates you use. This,” he put his hand on it and began rubbing along it. “I doubt it would fit half the things you order from China King.”

“I don’t order that much from China King.”

“I’ve seen your orders when the owl gets our house wrong. They are quite large.”

“Ron ate most of the food.”

“And I’m sure you never had seconds, nor have you ordered it over the last few weeks when you thought nobody was looking.”

“Fine, that one is too small. Still, I like the color," she answered.

“What color would that be?" He asked.

“Purple.”

His eyes grew. “Purple?”

“Yes,” her voice was wistful. “If I am going to get a microwave, I want one in my favorite color.”

“And black, white, and gray are not your favorite colors?”

“Those colors are nice, but they aren’t unique.”

“You deserve something unique.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She stepped forward.

“It means that you are a unique person who deserves the microwave she wants." He followed her footsteps while running his arm against the display so he didn't ram into it.

“And is unique good?”

“In your case,” his voice softened. “Unique is outstanding.”

“Severus,” she let out a small giggle. “If you continue to speak that way, people may suspect you like me.”

“I am with you in a Muggle appliance store. That implies I do not despise your existence.”

“Yes, but you are downright flirtatious today.”

“You don’t seem to object to my attitude.”

“Not at all.” She stopped. “I don't object at all.”

“Indeed.” He glanced in the direction of what he assumed to be the microwaves.

“Is there a reason I need a beverage mode?”

“A what?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, this one has a mode for beverages, and it has one for soup and ooh, one for popcorn!”

“Popcorn?”

“Yes.” Hermione put her hand over his. “My parents’ microwave never makes popcorn right. I’ve always wanted a popcorn mode.”

“I didn’t know you ate enough popcorn to warrant its own mode.”

“Popcorn is my guilty pleasure, something I’d eat when Ron wasn’t around to complain that it would get stuck in his teeth.”

“I thought that would be a bigger problem for the daughter of dentists.”

“You’d think so, but I cannot get enough of the buttery flavor. If I have to floss more, well, sometimes sacrifices must be made.”

“I will admit to popcorn being quite pleasant on movie night.”

She removed one hand from his before exhaling. “It’s a bit expensive, though, and it is not purple.”

“Then I suppose we cannot buy it then.”

“But it has all the defrost modes I want and a nice express cook.”

“Do you want to buy it then?”

“I don’t know.” She ran her foot along the concrete floor. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s your life and your microwave. If you want it, you should buy it.”

“I know I won’t have it for long, but I still like it,” her voice trailed off.

“Is there a reason you need to give it up someday?”

She shifted towards him.

“You act as if you’ll need to discard this microwave the second you find a cure, like there is a law that requires you to give it to someone as a peace offering once your deception is exposed. Why get rid of it when it's clear you want it for yourself, though?”

“Ron wouldn’t…”

“Forget Mr. Weasley.” His voice was more forceful than he would have liked. “This is your life. You need to get what you want, not what you think he wants you to want.”

“True.” She was quiet for a moment. “Except, there are no purple ones available.”

“Would that be the only thing stopping you from buying it?”

“As silly as it sounds, yes.”

His lips curled up. “That can easily be changed.”

“It can?”

“Yes.” He released her arm. “Buy the microwave. Then, I can help you assemble it and make it whatever color you would like.”

“Sure.” She slid a box. “Just grab my shoulder. I can lead you that way.”

“Hermione, I’m sure I can…”

“Severus,” her voice was sweeter than he’d ever heard. “Please don’t argue with me, not when I have a heavy object that I could drop on your foot at any moment.”

He laughed before putting a hand on her shoulder. Then, she led him away, just as he trusted her to do.

Chapter Text

“That’s it?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “All we needed to do was plug it in?”

“Yes.” Hermione leaned against the counter. “The microwave only needed to be plugged in. We didn't need any of the tools I pulled out.”

He looked in the direction of the microwave as if it was the most complex formula he's ever encountered. Hermione covered her mouth and giggled.

He turned to her. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing, but you were so convinced we wouldn’t be able to install this microwave on our own. You almost talked me into calling my dad and asking for his help. Yet, all we needed to do was tap into the house’s electrical system and plug it in.” She shot a look at the toolkit they had brought over because, according to Severus, they'd need at least three wrenches and four different sizes of hammers to install it.

“True, but I didn’t know you had any access to Muggle electricity here," he replied.

“I had a few electric outlets installed for my refrigerator. Granted, I didn’t know if the other outlets would work, but...” She pointed to the microwave clock, which displayed three zeroes. “It seems to work.”

He stepped closer and squinted. Then, he nodded. “It appears to be in working condition.”

“Yes, though if I want more muggle technology, I will need to rewire my house so it can handle more muggle devices. Right now, there's only enough electricity to power two or three devices.”

“Indeed.” He ran his hand along the top of the microwave. “One can only hope this does not overload the system you have now.”

“I suppose we should test it to make sure it’s safe.” She glanced around. “Would you like a rock candy tea?”

“Excuse me?” He tilted his head.

“A rock candy tea. Do you want one?”

“I haven’t the foggiest clue what that even is.”

“It’s just rock candy in hot water.” She swallowed. “You do know what rock candy is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It was one of my favorite treats when I was able to scrounge and hide enough money to buy it at the candy store.” From the look in his eyes, it was clear this was not a common occurrence.

“I enjoyed it too, so much so that when I was sick, my mum would put a piece of it in a cup of hot water. It did an excellent job soothing my throat. It is delicious too.”

“I would be amenable to trying it then, so long as I know what flavor it is.”

"I have raspberry flavored."

His lips curled upwards. "That is my favorite flavor. Granted, I had to hide my blue mouth from others..."

"But that's the most fun part of eating any type of blue candy," she replied.

"Yes, but if you're teaching dunderheads within the next five minutes, then you must take care not to let them know that you did not in fact throw out the candy you confiscated from them."

"Wait," she drawled. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't just throw out the chocolate frogs you confiscated from me during my second year?"

The gleam in his eyes was much too mischievous for her liking. "They were amongst the most enjoyable boxes I'd ever devoured."

"Just for that, I'm only putting one piece of candy in your cup."

"And here I thought you liked me enough to at least afford me some leniency."

"I had spent all break earning enough money for those chocolate frogs."

"And I'd spent all break recovering from the headache you and your friends gave me."

She furrowed her eyebrows.

He let out an exaggerated sigh. "If I promise to buy you ten boxes of chocolate frogs, could I please have a rock candy tea?"

"Only because you asked so nicely." She strolled to her counters and began searching for a mug she knew was microwaveable. Once she found it, she pulled it out and opened another cupboard and began rummaging for the rock candy. “I would usually brew my own tea, but if we want to make sure this works, we have to heat something. What better beverage to start with than water?”

“It wouldn't explode anyway."

"Or so one hopes." She continued to rummage around in her cupboard.

“We are forgetting something.”

“Oh?” She turned towards him. “Was there an informational pamphlet I forgot to review?”

“No,” his voice softened. “Not that I’d know if there was.”

“You might.” She pulled out the candy. “I mean, you said you have some eyesight. You could have seen it at the bottom of the box when I wasn't looking."”

“I have some sight, but,” he held the directions close to his face. “It doesn’t mean I could find a piece of paper or read small print without translating it to Braille.”

She bit back her sympathy as she took the rock candy from her cupboard.

"I fear I’ll be shite at helping you install your Muggle technologies, not that I would’ve been much help even with my eyesight." He released the directions.

“That isn’t true. You can still hold things in place while I adjust them. You can also keep me calm as I try to make sense of what slot A and slot B are and how they fit together.”

“That is true enough.”

“I’m more than capable of reading directions and guiding us through all that.” She pulled out her hand and put it over the cup. “Aguamenti.”

Nothing.

She frowned. “Aguamenti.”

Still nothing.

“Would you like my help?” Severus pulled out his wand.

Hermione stared at him. Her first impulse was to snap at him and try again. Still, he needed to feel useful. Even if it was a small thing, he could help with this.

Her voice was soft. “If you let me direct your hand so water doesn’t spill everywhere, you can cast the spell.”

“Fine.” He gave her a small nod.

She took his hand, noting the softness of his skin and how his touch was electric. Then, she adjusted its position until he could aim, reveling in the sensation of touching him. “There you go.”

“Aguamenti.”

The water spilled from his wand into the cup. After a couple of moments, the water stopped. He asked, “Is that enough?”

“It is.” She relaxed.

“Good, I thought I could hear it sloshing closer to the rim.”

“Does water sound different when a glass is half full versus when it is full?”

“When I had full sight, I didn’t think so. After spilling water more times than I care to count, I’ve begun to pay attention to the sounds. It turns out there is a difference between just filling up, halfway filled up, and full. After a while. I've learned those sounds and how to pay attention to them.”

“I never knew that.” She stepped towards the microwave and opened the door.

“It’s slight, but if you know what to listen for, you will hear it.” He turned in her direction.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She closed the door and glanced at the buttons. “I suppose the beverage button would be best.”

“One would think.”

“I would think so too.” She pressed it, eliciting a beep. Then, the light inside the microwave turned on, and the cup began spinning, jerking every so often along with the glass tray.

“The power does not seem to have gone out,” Severus noted.

“No. It hasn’t.” She rushed over and pulled another mug from her cupboard. “Everything seems to be working.”

“We'll call someone when you need more than a microwave, unless—” He frowned. “Unless you think you’ll be cured and don’t need electricity.”

Her stomach clenched. “I won't need any more electricity than this. Once I'm cured, I'm swearing off all Muggle appliances, except those found at my parents' house." 

Only the microwave’s hum could be heard.

“I.” Her throat constricted. “I will be cured. You…you think that, right?”

He took a deep breath but said nothing.

“You think searching for a cure is foolish, don’t you?”

“I never said that.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

"No, but I am concerned for you," he answered. "The last thing I want is for you to be caught off guard if you need more Muggle appliances because your magic has disappeared. I don’t want you to be unprepared for your new normal.”

“Nothing other than using magic will ever be normal for me.”

“Or so we hope.”

Her voice was almost inaudible. “Or so we hope.”

The beeping microwave pierced the silence of the kitchen. Severus leapt. She put a hand on his arm. “It’s fine.”

“Indeed.” He straightened his posture.

“I still think we can find a cure.” She removed the mug from the microwave. “It may take time, but we will find some cure for our conditions.”

“If anyone can find a cure, it would be you. Still.” He swallowed.

“Exactly. I won’t need accommodations anymore, and we can forget about all this.”

“Yes, but in the meantime, accommodations can make your life easier. Sometimes, they’re even necessary. My life was so much simpler when I began learning Braille. I could read again instead of listening to jumbled words because the auditory spell wasn’t working.”

“Yet you still haven’t accepted your reality.” She noted.

“What do you mean? I’m going blind. I’ve admitted it to you. A cure is unobtainable, so I’ve stopped looking," he argued.

“Yes, but you won’t use a white cane or use any other accommodations in public.”

“If anyone knew I was going blind, they’d take advantage of me. If too many people knew of my condition, I’d be blacklisted because nobody wants to buy potions from a blind potions master.”

“Yes, I know; you’ve said as much. Still, people are going to notice that you are always bruised and battered. They’ll think you’ve become clumsier.” She put the rock candy inside the mug.

He huffed. “That wouldn’t be anything new for me.”

“What do you mean?” She held the mug.

“It means everyone thought I was clumsy as a child. They thought I couldn’t walk up stairs properly, or I was running into doors, or a book fell on me.”

“They did?” She held out her mug. “Also, here’s your mug.”

“Thank you.” He put one hand on the cup and the other on the handle. After taking a moment to ensure that his grasp was firm enough, he took it.

“Is that how you covered up your abuse?” Her voice was softer. “Did you cover it up by saying you were clumsy?”

“I never had to say as much. The adults around me said I was clumsy because it was easier for them not to think that my father or the Marauders were kicking the shit out of me. Why upset the social order when they could blame me for my problems and pretend they didn’t exist?”

“That sounds horrible.” Her stomach sank.

He shrugged. “My problems were never that important. I’m used to it.”

“No, your problems are important. You shouldn’t be used to having them ignored.”

“Life is life.”

“Life should be pleasant, not a drudgery.”

“Says the woman losing her magic.”

She sighed.

“Perhaps my life has been less than pleasant, but I’ve grown accustomed to not getting my way. Things could be worse for me. At least now, if people think I’m clumsy, it’s because I’ve actually injured myself, not because they wanted to cover up the fact a lycanthrope almost killed me.” He gritted his teeth.

“I see.” She shifted her foot. “In the name of all Gryffindors, I apologize for everything that happened. We should never have treated you the way we did.”

He met her eyes.

“I’m sorry I ever idealized the Marauders. Looking back, none of them showed any remorse for the horrendous ways they’d treated you. Up until the end, they were trying to justify their actions as harmless pranks when they were anything but that. What they did was wrong. I should have called them on it, but I did not. For that, I apologize.”

“How could you have behaved any differently? You were a child.”

“But I was a child who knew what it was like to be bullied for being a freak.”

He cringed. “Were you called a freak?”

“All the time,” she replied.

For a moment, silence fell between them, though neither could tell if it was comforting or suffocating.

“It was easy for me to leave my muggle school because bizarre things kept happening around me,” she continued. “Most of my peers laughed at my hair and my teeth. A few people spoke to me, but we were never close. I just couldn’t relate to my peers. I was always the one picked last for games or the one people would whine about having in their group. I know I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but I wanted to fit in. I just didn’t know how.”

“I didn’t know how to fit in either.” His voice was soft. “I never fit in with Muggles; I wasn’t of a high enough social class for those at Hogwarts, and even before becoming headmaster, the other professors distrusted me. I never fit in anywhere.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever fit in anywhere either.”

“What do you mean? You had Potter and Weasley.”

“I know, and they are my family, or I think they were anyway.” She exhaled and looked upwards. “It’s difficult to explain our relationship now because we all love each other. Yet, Harry is married and getting ready to raise a child. Ron and the Weasleys—I guess I fit in with them, or at least I tried to convince myself of that. Looking back, they don’t understand how I grew up, and I don’t understand how they grew up. There were times at Burrow dinners when I’d be alone on the couch watching Ron drink and everyone else converse with each other. There were all these inside jokes and Wizarding references I still don’t understand. I told myself that I was contemplative and enjoying the moment. Looking back, I was incredibly lonely.”

“That was me during staff meetings,” he answered. “I told myself I was just an introvert, but the truth is I wanted to fit in and socialize with everyone. I just didn’t know how.”

“I never knew how to fit in either. It seemed like everyone else knew something I didn’t. It wasn’t until I spoke with you that I realized I wasn’t alone in feeling lonely.” She gave him a small smile.

“I did not realize you felt so lonely.” His eyes were soft. "I always thought because you had Potter and Weasley, you couldn't be lonely. Granted, Ron yelled at you more than he valued you. Still, I thought Potter was on your side."

"No, more often than not he took Ron's side. He's taking Ron's side now."

"Much to his detriment."

“That's all irrelevant at the moment. We have each other now. We’ll have to make sure we aren’t lonely anymore.”

“Agreed.” His lips turned upwards.

She took note of the steam rising from his mug. “You should try that before it gets cold.”

“I was waiting for you to make yours so we could have it together.”

“Fine.” She grabbed the other mug from the counter. “Would you like to do the honors?”

He took out his wand and held up his hand. “Just direct my arm to where you need it.”

“I will.” She directed his arm to where she needed it to be. “I’m ready.”

“Aguamenti.”

The water went from his wand into the glass. Just as it was about full, he stopped.

"Perfect." She looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” He grinned.

She put the glass into the microwave and pushed the beverage button. Then, the table and glass began to turn.

“For the record.” She turned to him again. “You don’t deserve to go through life with bruises all over your face and body.”

“I never said I did,” he answered.

“Yes, but you think that’s acceptable, when it isn’t. Nobody should’ve hurt you, and you shouldn’t hurt yourself because you can’t navigate the world around you.”

“Says the woman who refuses to get a muggle oven despite almost burning the house down with a magical one.”

Before Hermione could form a rebuttal, the microwave beeped.

“I’m different.” She pulled out the glass. “You’ll see, I’m different than everyone else. Just ask anyone who’s ever known me. I’m too different for my own good sometimes.”

“Different sounds so harsh,” he argued. “You are exquisite.”

“Exquisite?”

“Yes,” he answered. “There will never be anyone as unique or as amazing as you. For that reason alone, you are exquisite.”

She gazed at him, searching his eyes for any sign of deception. When she came up with nothing, her lips curled upwards. “I could say the same about you.”

“I am not exquisite.”

“Yes, you are.” She held onto her mug tighter. “Nobody can bewitch the mind or ensnare the senses the way you can.”

“Shouldn’t we be saving this kind of talk for public?”

“Why should honesty be reserved for when others are around?”

His eyes glistened as she plopped her rock candy into her mug. Then, she raised her mug. “To us finally finding the understanding we've always craved.”

He smiled. “To us finally finding a place to belong.”

Both of them took a sip of their drink. Hermione sighed as memories of sitting in her bed as a child came to mind. Although her throat was aching, the sweetness and heat of the drink soothed it. As she drank, her mother would run her hands through her hair, assuring her daughter that her illness would soon pass. Then she would tell her about a prince who would find her, offer her understanding, and love her the way she deserved to be loved. At times, she wished he was real, though she had found the Half-Blood Prince, a man who exceeded her wildest expectations, someone who was the friend she'd always desired. The fact that he wasn't hard on the eyes and had a voice that could lead any woman into sin worked in his favor too...

“This is amazing.”

She returned to the present moment.

“I will admit to being skeptical when you proposed this drink, but this is amazing.” He looked in the direction of his mug. “I thoroughly enjoy it.”

“I thought you would.” She stepped closer to him.

“I enjoy the drink very much.” He put the mug on the counter but did not take his eyes off her. Instead, he stepped closer, his attention on her lips.

“Severus?” She approached him.

He hummed.

She tilted her head upwards.

In a low voice, he asked, “What color is your microwave?”

“Black,” she whispered.

“Not anymore.” He pulled out his wand and turned to the microwave. He held out his free hand until it was touching the microwave. Then, he pointed his wand at the microwave and removed his hand. “Transforma acest violet.”

The microwave was the shade of purple Hermione had desired.

“Is this acceptable to you?” He fidgeted. “I can try again if you would like.”

“No, this is perfect.” Her smile was wider than it had been in years.

Before she could think better of it, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He blushed.

“Thank you for making this day wonderful,” she whispered.

He picked up his mug again. “You are more than welcome.”

Together they stood, sipping their drinks, feeling at peace that they’d finally found a home with each other.

Chapter Text

“You want another week of vacation?”

Hermione took a deep breath as she looked at the ashen face in her fireplace. Telling Healer Rolands that she needed extended vacation time via owl was difficult enough. She had edited the letter three times, and even when she sent it after the fourth, she was dissatisfied with it. That was easier than this moment, though. Seeing the disappointment in Healer Rolands' eyes pierced her very soul. Somehow, someway, she needed to find a cure for her magical core, lest she disappoint anyone else. 

“Yes,” Hermione cleared her throat and straightened her posture. “I need another few weeks of vacation time to sort my life out.”

“What about your life is out of order?” Healer Rolands argued. “Other than dumping your boyfriend for a surly potions master. That is certainly something to sort out.”

“Actually, Severus is the only portion of my life that is going in a positive direction.”

“Dating Severus Snape is going in a positive direction?”

“He treats me well and listens to me when I'm upset. He doesn't demean me the way Ron did."

"Admittedly, Ron could be an arse. Sometimes I wondered why you were with him."

Hermione squirmed.

"Still, there are other men who will listen to you and treat you well. You don't need to endure Snape's caustic tongue to be treated well."

"He isn't caustic with me."

"Not yet anyway."

"He's quite a sweet man when you get to know him. He can be very encouraging and supports me when I need someone."

"He needs a therapist who can support him, not a girlfriend."

"Severus is a wonderful partner. I'm lucky to have him."

"Not as lucky as he is to have you," Healer Rolands sighed. "He's a project, Hermione. Sure, it's all fun and games now. Right now, I'm sure he's the man of your dreams and turning on what little charm he has. Still, his demons are well known. Eventually his surly attitude will wear on you. He will prove to be too difficult for you, leaving you even more alone than before."

"Severus is much easier to handle than most people in my life," Hermione raised her voice as her temperature rose. "He's a wonderful man who treats me better than anyone else ever has. If you do not stop badmouthing him, then I am cutting off this call."

"If he's so wonderful, why isn't he encouraging you to return to work? Why isn't he asking you to build upon the career you love so much? Why isn't he supporting you instead of allowing you to hide from the world?"

Hermione bit the inside of her lip.

“Hermione,” Healer Rolands’ voice was softer. “This isn't like you. You were on track for the record of never missing a day. Hell, you didn’t even take holidays off.”

“I know.” Her throat constricted. “And I’m sorry to miss again. Still, some things have come up, and I need to get them sorted out before I can return to work. It’s a bit difficult to explain and somewhat private. Still, you need to trust me when I say I need more time off.”

“Is there something wrong with your health?”

There was a pang in Hermione’s chest.

Even in the ashes, Hermione could see Healer Rolands' face pale. “You aren’t pregnant with Severus’ baby, are you?”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’m not pregnant. The last thing I need is to have Ron’s baby.”

"Ron's baby?"

"Yes." Hermione let out an exaggerated breath. "The last thing I need is Ron's baby. I don't need to be tied to him, not like that anyway."

“Indeed.” Healer Rolands raised an eyebrow. “If you aren’t pregnant, what is wrong?”

“Again, it's difficult to explain and something I don't quite understand myself.” She shifted her foot. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m here to talk.” The healer’s voice was softer. “Everyone at St. Mungo's is concerned for you. Between taking off work and dumping the love of your life for the surliest man alive, we are quite worried. All of us are ready to help in any way we can.”

“I appreciate your concern; I truly do. Everyone at St. Mungo’s has been an excellent friend to me. Still, I need my privacy.”

“Is something wrong with your parents?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Hermione squirmed.

“Hermione said she did not want to discuss this matter with you.”

Hermione looked back at the man strolling towards her, his arm outstretched against a wall. When he neared, she took his hand and guided him closer to her.

“Severus Snape.” Healer Rolands furrowed her eyebrows. “What a lovely intrusion.”

"I apologize for the intrusion, but my day is not complete until I hear your lovely voice using the most uncreative insults against me." Severus smirked.

"Don't give me that expression, not after what you've done to Hermione."

"What exactly have I done to her?"

"Nothing," Hermione interrupted. "You've done nothing to me."

Healer Rolands glared at Severus. “How many threats did you need to make to force Hermione out to dinner with you?”

"None," Severus answered. "Unlike Black and Potter, I have no need to blackmail women into having dinner with me.”

“And I’m sure women are pouring down your door to date the illustrious Severus Snape.”

"Hermione spends half the day combatting them and the other half ensuring the chocolates they give me are not poisoned."

"I'm so glad to hear she isn't bored on your account."

“No, she is not, but we’re off track,” he replied. “Hermione has taken time off for work. Given that she has the vacation time to do so, she may do so without interference.”

“With all due respect, Severus, this matter doesn’t concern you.”

“If you are badgering a former employee who happens to be the person I’m dating, then it concerns me.”

Healer Rolands glanced at Hermione.

“I need another three weeks off,” Hermione argued. “I trust I can do so given all the vacation time I’ve accumulated over the years.”

“You have at least a couple of months’ worth of vacation time,” Healer Rolands confirmed.

“Then I request another three weeks off to get things sorted out.”

“Fine, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

The flame died. Hermione groaned and shook her head.

“I apologize if I spoke out of turn,” Severus began. “Still, I thought you may appreciate the support.”

“Thank you. I needed your support. I love her, but she doesn't always know when to drop things.” Hermione turned to him. “I’m just sorry that she interrupted breakfast.”

“It was no interruption. I had already finished.”

She cocked her head. “You ate an entire bowl of Cheerios in ten minutes?”

“You act as though the bowl was large," he answered.

“True, but.” She shrugged. “Never mind. I suppose I’m just a slow eater.”

“Eating slower is better for your digestion, or so I’m told.”

“It is, though I haven’t been hungry lately.” She sagged. “Three days of research going nowhere is wearing on me.”

“Perhaps we’ll find something today.”

“Perhaps.” She perked up. “In the meantime, thank you for coming over and bringing your books. I appreciate the chance to read them when you aren’t around.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he replied. “You deserve the chance to research even when I’m unavailable.”

“Thank you.” She ran her thumb along his hand. “Though I prefer researching with you.”

“You do?” He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. “I’m not alone when I’m with you.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean,” she met his eyes and stepped closer until he stopped squinting. “I have someone who understands me when you’re there. That’s all I ever wanted from a partner.”

“Indeed.” He parted his lips.

She stared at him, wondering if he would be receptive to a kiss. Ever since their almost kiss when putting together the microwave, she’d been fantasizing about holding him close, letting her lips capture his, and whispering her growing affection into his ear. The fantasies were only sweetened by the knowledge of who Severus was. He wouldn’t grope her the way Ron did or only kiss her to force her into compliance. Even if she didn’t love Severus, he would respect the woman he kissed. For that reason alone, she wanted to be the woman in his arms and ensure she would be the one beside him for eternity.

“Hermione?”

She leapt before scowling. Leave it to her father to interrupt her when she was with a man she wanted to kiss.

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione peeked into the fireplace.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted us to bring red or white wine for dinner on Saturday, but—” Wilford took note of Severus and grinned. “Hello, Severus. Lovely seeing you here.”

“Indeed.” His smile was forced.

“Are you enjoying your time with my daughter?”

Severus’ expression lightened. “Of course. I always do.”

“You look better than you did the last time we saw you anyway.” Wilford’s expression became somber. “You are feeling better, correct?”

“I’m feeling much better, in large part due to your daughter’s excellent care.”

“Good,” Wilford replied. “And you will be with us on Saturday, correct?”

“I made sure nothing would interfere with our dinner.”

“I’m happy to hear it. You’re a good man who is good for my daughter. Don't ever forget that.”

“I try to be the best man I can for her. She deserves only the best from me.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. How serious was Severus at the moment? Was he trying to be the best version of himself for her? If so, why? This whole relationship was fake, so why would he want to be the kind of man who had a deep connection to her?

“Hermione.”

She startled.

“Should I bring red or white wine?” Wilford asked.

“White wine,” she answered.

“Okay.” Wilford’s grin returned. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Can’t wait to see you both on Saturday.”

“We cannot wait either,” Hermione answered.

“No, we cannot,” Severus replied.

With a look of pure self-satisfaction, Wilford disappeared.

For a moment, Hermione and Severus stared at each other, the heat from the previous moment dissipated.

“Your Cheerios are going to get soggy if you do not eat them,” he began.

“Yes, uh, they will be.” She forced herself to grin. “I should finish them, then.”

“You probably should,” he whispered.

“Yes.” She stepped away, still keeping hold of his hand. He followed behind her, his grip never too strong, yet still firm.

Severus was everything she’d ever wanted, a fact she didn’t dare admit to herself, at least not out loud.

***

“There has to be a way to win back Hermione!”

George suppressed a groan as his brother unloaded the boxes of reusable hangman. He only hoped Ron didn’t leave them on the floor for several hours as he had the week before. It needed to be swept, something he’d told Ron to do three times that day. Every time, Ron was busy doing something else. Something told George that something else was obsessing over Hermione and fantasizing of ways to win her back while harming Snape as much as possible.

“None of this makes sense. She loves me. We’re meant for each other. Everyone says so. She even said so.” He shoved another box onto the shelf. “I mean, she replaced me with Snape. Snape! Who could ever replace me with the greasy git?”

“Hermione, apparently.” George pinched his nose. God help him if he had to hear this speech again...

“No, she’s gone round the bend! Somehow, she’s become attracted to the greasy git, and she's forgotten about me.” Ron picked up another box. “I can’t figure out why!”

“I don’t know why Hermione is with Snape, but whatever the reason is, she has no intention of telling you.”

“She has to talk to me. I mean, Snape isn’t hotter than me. Sure, he’s smarter, but other than Hermione, who cares about obscure potions?”

“You just answered your own question.”

Ron glared at George before rubbing his chin. “Do I need to prove I’m smarter than Snape?”

“I highly doubt that,” George answered. “You could live twenty lifetimes and still not be half as smart as Snape.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you barely passed potions in your O.W.L.S., you know next to nothing about academic subjects, and Quidditch statistics aren't impressive to her.”

“True.” Ron frowned. “I need to get her attention some other way, show her what she’s missing by remaining with snarly Snape.”

“Or you could try focusing your efforts on improving yourself so you can date someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could cut down on the drinking, start doing more at work, and appreciate the people in your life who love you instead of obsessing over your ex.”

“My drinking is fine, I work as hard as I can, and I appreciate everyone in my life who isn’t screwing Snape.”

“Really? You don't behave that way.”

"Yes, I do."

"Then why hasn't the floor been swept? This is my fourth time asking you to do it."

“Look, I don’t want to get into this right now, not when I need Hermione back in my life.”

“Perhaps we should focus on how to improve yourself.” George pointed at Ron.

“Name one real way I could improve myself," Ron argued.

“Cut down on the drinking. You come in hungover more times than not. Your drinking may have driven Hermione away.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“You’re right, I’m not fine because Hermione isn’t in my life.”

George put his head in his hands.

“I won’t be happy until Hermione is back in my arms.”

“Look, there are other women out there…”

The second George said that, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Ron’s eyes lit up as a smile crept across his face. “Yes, there are.”

“Great, focus on them…”

“And I have two tickets to a Quidditch game, the one Hermione didn’t want to attend.”

George closed his mouth.

“I know how to win Hermione back and have a good time in the process.” Ron’s smile grew. “The whole plan is perfect.”

George shook his head, wondering how many times Ron’s heart would be broken before he realized Hermione was not worth one more moment of his time.

Chapter Text

“Do you truly want to help me cook, or are you just being kind for the sake of appearances?” Hermione asked as Severus approached the oven, a stuffed paper bag of groceries in his arms.

“I am not kind, even for the sake of appearances, but I am practical.” He set the bag down. “We are trying to convince your parents that I am the man who wants to become their son-in-law. The more domestic we appear together, the more successful our plan will be.”

“True, but,” She peeked into the bag. “This is my house. It feels as if I should cook for all of us while you relax in the sitting room, listening to the radio or something.”

"There's never anything good on the radio anymore, especially during Quidditch season."

"Those are words I never thought I'd hear from a man."

"But they are the truth."

"Indeed they are." She relaxed.

"Admittedly, I have ulterior motives." The playfulness evaporated from his eyes. "My house is next door. I would prefer it not burn down because you lost control of the flames in an attempt to feed everyone.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “My magic has been fine today.”

“That doesn’t mean your condition is improving.” He pulled out the beef along with bags of carrots, potatoes, and onions. “So, allow me to cook for you. That way, you can relax and speak with your parents.”

"I'm not helpless."

"Neither am I, which is why I want to help."

“Fine, you can help, but I'm going to assist you. The last thing I’d want is for you to hurt yourself or burn the food.”

He glared in her direction and lowered his voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that in your condition, you are not much better at using the oven than I am.”

“For your information, I am more than capable of cooking, even when I struggle to see.” He turned to the roast.

“You can?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I’m not an invalid.”

She swallowed. "You order out quite a bit."

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t cook.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a salad. “I just choose not to most days because I get too involved in my work.”

“I didn't know. I just assumed that because you were a potions master, you could cook, and you gave it up when you were blind.”

“Cooking has never been pleasurable to me.” He began feeling the beef. “My aching feet make standing at a stove for long periods of time unappealing. On the days I skip meals, I'm too impatient to prepare a meal.”

“Perhaps you should buy shoes with more cushioning if your feet are an issue.”

“Yes, but that would require me to go to a shoe store, which I detest. There are too many dunderheads obsessed with having the latest fashion, and most salespeople will not allow you to think without throwing another pair of shoes you don’t want in your face.”

“You have a point about salespeople being pushy.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m sorry I assumed you couldn’t cook.” Her voice was soft.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to assume a blind person couldn’t cook, and you won’t be the last.” He ran his hand along the cupboards. “Where are your pots and pans?”

“They’re over here.” She took two steps backward and pulled out a large pan. Then, she held it up.

After reaching for it and failing to grasp it a few times, he took hold of it. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She kept her eyes on him. “I will get you some knives and a cutting board too. There’s no good reason you should be fumbling for those.”

“Thank you,” he answered. “I would prefer not to cut myself.”

“I would hate that for you too.” She reached into the cupboard and grabbed a cutting board. Then, she grabbed some knives. “If you would like, I can cut the vegetables while you prepare the meat.”

“Are you that frightened of me cutting myself?”

“No, I know you won’t do that. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to brew potions anymore, something you clearly can do.”

He kept his eyes on her.

“Still, this whole thing is surreal.” She cast her eyes downwards. “Ron and I never cooked together. He was usually in the other room listening to a Quidditch game as I made dinner. The only time he spoke to me was to ask when dinner would be done. Some nights, it made me feel like a glorified house elf. I suppose he was just behaving the only way he knew how. Molly and Arthur never cooked together, so why should he expect anything different?”

“He sounds like a regular Prince Charming.”

She shrugged. “What we had was domestic in its own way. I mean, that’s the kind of relationship Molly and Arthur had. They were the people Ron said we should be. Given how happy they seemed, it didn't seem like a terrible goal. Granted, Arthur would talk to Molly and occasionally kiss her on the cheek when she was in the kitchen. They seemed to have fun when she cooked, more fun than I did with Ron complaining that I was taking too long anyway.”

His expression softened. “It sounds as if Ron was trying to fit into a mold you didn't fully support."

“No, what we had was fine. It wasn't a mold I was used to, but I thought I could do it. Still, it didn't mean there weren't times when I wondered what it would be like to cook with someone. Mum and Dad did it together sometimes and seemed to take pleasure in it. That was closer to the relationship I wanted, though Ron thought it was deathly dull.”

“Then let's create a new mold, one we both can abide by.” He smiled.

"Yes," she relaxed, "let's do that."

“Why don't you cut the vegetables? That way, we won’t need to worry about your magic misfiring. If you can direct me to the knobs, I can try and guess the oven setting. At home, I can tell how hot it is by how much heat there is. You could also help me by placing the French bread and the salads on the table.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed. “Letting me help you makes me feel useful, like I’m still worth something.”

“You’re worth something because you are Hermione Granger, not because you can cook and do basic chores.”

“The future Mrs. Hermione Weasley didn't seem to be worth much without her domestic chores,”

“Has it ever occurred to you that Mr. Weasley was an arse who didn’t deserve you?”

“Sometimes I think that.” Hermione held out her hand. “Could you please pass me the carrots and potatoes so I can begin cutting them?”

“Certainly.” He felt around on the table until he found them. “If you could tell me where you are, I can give them to you.”

She stepped closer. “Go a little lower. I can’t reach them.”

He lowered his arms.

“Thank you,” she took the vegetables.

His eyes betrayed his vulnerability. “You’re welcome.”

She began taking out the vegetables as he began preparing the meat.

After a moment of silence, she asked, “Have you ever thought about getting a seeing-eye dog?”

“Hermione,” he growled, his voice with more than a hint of warning.

“No, I mean, you could walk around with a dog. Most people wouldn’t know you were blind because they’ve never seen a seeing eye dog. You’d just look like a loving pet owner.”

“Until I put a vest on it because I wanted people to stop petting it.”

“True, that would be a problem.”

“Also, there’s no guarantee that a Wizarding restaurant would allow a seeing-eye dog into their establishment since most places have a no pets policy.”

“But this wouldn’t be a pet.”

“The Wizarding World makes no distinction between service animals and pets because blind people are shoved away from society and are expected to either tell fortunes from home, live in poverty until they starve, or are abandoned in the Muggle world.” His frown deepened.

“I hadn’t considered all that.” She dug her foot into the ground.

“I have,” he grumbled. “I have stayed up at night considering those possibilities more times than I care to admit.”

“There has to be some way of navigating the world where you aren’t constantly hurting yourself.” She continued cutting the vegetables.

“I told you, I’m no stranger to injury. It’s fine if I have a few cuts and bruises.”

“It’s not fine. It wasn’t fine when you were a child, it wasn’t fine when you were fighting in a war, and it isn’t fine now.”

He huffed. “You would be the first person who cared if I was injured or not.”

“I’m sure other people care. I mean, Draco seems to have an affection for you, and the Malfoys seem to be your friends.”

“Which is why Narcissa made me take an unbreakable vow to protect Draco at all costs regardless of what it cost my soul, something Lucius never thanked me for. No truer act of friendship exists, even if Draco has on numerous occasions.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Her voice was soft as she turned to him.

He gave her a half smile. “I’m actually glad you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“It means you see me for who I am now, not who I was.” His lips curled upwards. “It’s refreshing not to be judged for my past, even if it’s only a moment.”

“I can relate.” She relaxed. “I appreciate not being seen as a member of the Golden Trio, or the Muggle-born who everyone thinks knows more about technology than she actually does, or Ron’s workaholic girlfriend.”

“You are more than any of those roles.”

“And you’re more than an ex-spy who’s going blind.”

“And you’re more than a Muggleborn losing her magic.” He held up his hand. “And please don’t argue that you will regain it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything like that.” She exhaled. “Although I thought it.”

He hummed and returned his attention to his meat.

She resumed cutting her vegetables. “The books you’ve given me are helpful. I am formulating some ideas for potential cures.”

“Such as?”

“Well, unicorn blood may be an antidote, but it’s inhumane to kill one.”

“Agreed.”

“Still, horses may have enough of a relation to unicorns that their blood could work. People take blood from horses all the time without killing them. As long as we were careful with how much we took, we could use horse blood ethically.”

“That is an intriguing concept.”

She cut the last of the vegetables. “There’s also toad’s liver. That has some properties that haven’t been explored. I wouldn’t mind doing so.”

“I still like the idea of using aconite,” he answered.

“I do too. It has potential…”

“How do we stabilize these ingredients, though?” Severus finished preparing the meat. “Together, they are too acidic to be safely consumed.”

“They are.” She scratched her chin. “I’ve been trying to determine how to make them safer all afternoon.”

“I could conduct my own research,” he answered. “I am sure my books will say something.”

“If you find something interesting, please share it.”

“I will.” 

“Thank you.” She took a step closer to him. “I appreciate my ideas being taken seriously and not being called boring for wanting to engage in intellectual activities.”

“I will admit, I have enjoyed sharing my ideas with you more than I thought I would.”

“What do you mean, 'more than I thought I would'?”

“I’m a misanthrope, something you know all too well. I always thought another person researching with me would slow me down and annoy me to no end. You thought.” He approached her. “You have intriguing ideas. When I talk to you, I know I’m speaking to the most intelligent woman in the Wizarding World. It is refreshing to speak with someone such as yourself, to have someone who shares my passions, who cares about what I have to say, and to explore a field more in-depth. It is refreshing.”

“I appreciate speaking to someone about academic subjects as well, especially someone as brilliant as you.”

“As do I.” He breathed.

For a moment, Hermione wondered what it would be like to get onto her tiptoes and brush her lips against Severus’. She had always found him alluring, even if he wasn’t traditionally attractive. Still, if she kissed him, she would be admitting that she and Ron were never meant to be, that she could have something stronger, surer, and more satisfying than she could've ever dreamed. Was she ready to admit that to herself?

Was she ready to take that chance with a man who made it clear he would never love again?

“Hermione?”

Both of them startled. She gave him a nervous grin. “My parents are here.”

“Indeed,” he muttered.

“I will…”

Before she could finish her sentence, an owl pecked at the window.

“I’ll get that if you will please get the door,” Hermione replied.

“I will.” Severus stepped away from her. “Provided you promise not to touch that stove until I return.”

“I won’t, provided you don’t move until I get you some help.”

“Help?”

“Crookshanks,” Hermione called.

The feline trudged into the kitchen, his drooping eyes glaring at his owner.

“Please help Severus to the door.”

Crookshanks let out a meow before purring. Severus leaned forward as he followed the feline.

“Hermione?” Her father called.

“We’re coming!” She yelled before rushing over and opening the window. Glaring at the owl, she shooed it away without a treat. Then, she raised an eyebrow. What would be so important that there would be an Evening Prophet?

Her stomach sank upon reading the headline as the world around her spun. Any appetite she had evaporated upon seeing the headline.

Ron Weasley Recovers from Broken Heart! Finds New Lover!

Chapter Text

"How's the man who's actually worthy of my daughter?" Wilford burst out.

Severus opened his mouth.

Wilford came closer. “It's so great to see you again!”

Severus recoiled when Wilford grabbed his hand and shook it. When he had his eyesight, he had never considered how often people touched him without his permission. At that time, unwanted touch had been an annoyance, a disconcerting feeling, but something easy enough to recover from. Now, all he could do was hope he did not become disoriented enough to hex someone for fear they were attacking him.

"Wilford, I think you're grabbing his hand too tightly." Footsteps drew closer.

"Sorry, I'm just happy to be happy to see Hermione's lover."

"I'm happy you want to see me too." Severus relaxed.

“How are you doing, Severus?” There was a slight hint of concern in Muriel’s voice.

“I am doing well.” Severus stepped aside, using the door against his back to judge where he should go. “Your daughter and I are cooking some stir-fry roast.”

“That’s one of my favorites.” Wilford's footsteps were muffled by the carpet. “It smells amazing.”

“I promise that it will be just as delicious as it smells. Your daughter is a proficient cook who excels in the kitchen.” Severus heard a woman’s footstep come inside.

“Yes, it’s a fact I want you to keep in mind if you’re ever tempted to complain about her food.” Wilford's voice had a hint of a warning.

“I would never do such a thing," Severus promised.

“I know, which is why you’re much better than the bum she dated before you.”

“Although it wouldn’t hurt for someone to give her a hand in the kitchen every now and then.” Muriel must’ve winked, though Severus couldn’t see it.

“Actually, I was helping you before you came inside.” He stepped towards them. Once he got close enough to see that their blurry figures were inside, he shut the door, never removing his hand from the doorknob.

“You did?” Muriel asked.

“Indeed I did.” His lips curled up at the memory of her perfume mixed with the scent of the vegetables she was cutting and the smell of the beef in the pan. “It was quite pleasurable to cook with her.”

“And here Hermione thought she’d never find a boyfriend who wasn’t a lazy arse and demanded that she be his maid.” Wilford laughed. “Looks like she’s finally found a keeper.”

“I don’t know if I would call myself a keeper.”

“I would. You actually care about Hermione as a person, not only for what she can do for you.”

“I care very deeply for your daughter and would love nothing more than to remain by her side.” There was a pang in Severus’ chest. From the beginning, he knew this arrangement was temporary. He was not destined to be the man by her side for all of eternity, no matter how deeply that desire ran. Once she was cured, she'd be back with that bum Wilford hated so much, and he would be reduced to the role of her next-door neighbor who fantasized about having her in his arms once more. He knew all this when he agreed to pretend to be her lover. Why was the idea of this relationship ending so difficult to accept now?

Crookshanks’ meow returned Severus to the present.

“Shit, the stove,” Severus muttered before stepping forward, only stopping when he realized Muriel and Wilford were too close to him to move.

“What about the stove?” Muriel asked.

“I promised to stir the roast while Hermione made the salads,” Severus answered, his heart racing at the possibility of slamming into a wall, rendering himself unable to aid Hermione if she was in need of assistance.

Crookshanks let out a meow and began to purr.

Severus motioned for Wilford and Muriel to step aside before following a now purring Crookshanks. Thank Merlin for intelligent felines. Severus may just have to "drop" some of his food and forget to pick it up in a timely manner.

“Even the feline likes him,” Wilford replied.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Animals are excellent judges of character, and Crookshanks is a very discerning feline. If he loves Severus, then Hermione has found the perfect man for her.” Muriel's footsteps were behind Severus.

Once Severus reached the stove, he squinted and leaned closer to the pan.

“What are you doing?” Muriel asked.

“Nothing.” His face went red before he found the spatula. “I just wanted to smell the food.”

“You couldn’t smell it from the doorway?” Wilford asked.

“I could, but I like to smell it up close.” He grabbed the spatula and began stirring, paying attention to the sound of the sloshing of the liquid in the pan.

“Mum, Dad,” Hermione’s voice sounded tight, different from the relaxed tone it had been when he left. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“We’re always happy to see our baby girl.” Wilford paused. “Where do you want me to put the wine?”

“On the table is fine,” she answered before her footsteps drew closer to Severus. “Do you need any help stirring the roast?”

He felt the magic from his body transfer to the stove. “No, I can’t do this myself.”

“Okay,” her voice was softer than anticipated.

“What was the owl about?” He faced her. Even from this blurred distance, he could see her smile contrasting with the lack of a spark in her eye.

“Nothing, it was just a typical Evening Prophet full of nonsense.”

“What lies did Rita find appropriate to write tonight?”

“They weren’t lies.” She bowed her head. “Not this time.”

“Hermione,” he began before he heard a bubble. Then, he began to stir the roast.

“What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not in front of them,” she leaned closer and whispered. “Would it bother you if I gave you a peck on the cheek?”

He smirked before brushing his lips against hers. With an equally mischievous expression, she kissed his nose, eliciting a smile.

“You two seem cozy,” Wilford began.

“We are quite content in each other’s presence,” Severus answered with more sincerity than he intended.

“We are more than content together.” She ran her fingers along Severus’ arm.

“It’s nice to see you smile,” Wilford began. “We were beginning to think you were no longer capable of it.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked as a woman’s footsteps echoed from Severus’ right. "I smiled quite often."

"You didn't smile nearly enough when we were present."

"I didn't?"

“No, you were miserable with Ron,” Wilford answered. “Most of the time, you were fighting with him over everything under the sun. It had to be exhausting. God knows it was exhausting to listen to every time we were here.”

“Ron and I liked to argue.”

“You liked being insulted?”

“I liked verbal sparring.”

Severus heard another bubble. He stirred the pot roast until he didn’t hear it anymore.

“There’s verbal sparring, and there’s the man calling you a nag, a whiner, or a bore,” Wilford argued.

“He didn’t always call me those things.”

“He called you them enough to be abusive.”

"Ron didn't abuse me."

"Name-calling is a form of verbal abuse. He called you names. Therefore, he was verbally abusive towards you."

Hermione didn’t answer.

"It's nice to see you with a man who will cook for you, speaks to you respectfully, and makes you smile," Wilford continued. "For the first time in years, you look happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Indeed, we are quite happy together.” Severus kissed her cheek before he resumed stirring the food.

“Yes,” she leaned over and whispered. “Can I rub your back?”

He nodded.

“I am with the right man for me.” She massaged his back, sending a shudder of pleasure up his spine.

“Indeed, and I have found the right woman for me.” Severus’ stomach knotted at the thought that he was telling the truth, and she was not.

“When did you get this?” Muriel asked from Severus’ right.

“Get what?” Hermione removed her hand from Severus and moved to his right.

“This microwave,” Muriel answered.

"About a week ago."

"Huh."

Only the bubbling of the food could be heard.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Hermione asked.

“Nothing, I didn’t know you wanted anything to do with our technology anymore," Muriel answered.

“Oh, I just missed using a microwave,” Hermione answered in the most casual voice she could. “A magical microwave cooks food differently, and not always for the better. I missed the taste of nonmagical food, so I bought this.”

“Does this mean you like our technology again?”

“What do you mean again? I’ve always liked it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Muriel answered, her skepticism evident.

Severus stirred the food again, taking note that the popping was becoming closer together.

“We were beginning to think you hated our culture,” Muriel replied.

“Hated it?” Hermione’s voice was softer.

“Yes,” Muriel replied.

“Why would you think that?”

"Because we thought you may begin adopting the Weasleys' views."

"Which views?"

“Ron was always insulting our food and complaining about how his mother made it better than we ever could. Then, he would tell us that he thought our technology was outdated and too cumbersome to use. Arthur treated our kitchen like some kind of museum of ancient artifacts. His questions were always so condescending, especially his favorite statement, ‘How can people live this way?’ After a while, we were beginning to wonder if you agreed with them.”

“No, no,” Hermione’s voice was louder. “I never hated your culture.”

“Good,” Muriel replied. “Sometimes we worried that you did.”

Hermione's voice was softer. “Did you really?”

“Yes,” Muriel’s voice was quiet. “When we were treated like freaks by your friends, we began to wonder if you would ever feel that way about us. We wondered if our grandchildren would look at us like weird freaks and look down on us for lacking magic. It was painful to think that our own family would take on such prejudicial views.”

“I…I never knew you felt that way.”

Muriel stepped closer to Hermione.

“I wish I’d known you felt that way.” Hermione's voice cracked. “I would’ve told the Weasleys to behave better.”

“And I’m sure Ron would’ve been oh so willing to do so.” Wilford snorted.

“Any sensible man would’ve respected you and Muriel,” Severus cut in. “You are both fascinating people who deserve to be valued.”

“Thank you.” Wilford put a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Severus startled.

“Are you alright?” Wilford removed his hand from him.

“I am fine. Why?”

“Nothing,” Wilford answered. “You just seem jumpier than usual.”

“I apologize.” Severus forced himself to grin. “I have been under quite a bit of stress with brewing for my potions business and helping Hermione research nonmagical technology.”

“You've been helping with that?”

“Yes,” Severus answered. “I grew up in a nonmagical household and knew how to use the technology associated with it. We have both decided to return to our roots, so to speak, and look into various Muggle technologies.”

“I almost forgot that you were a halfblood,” Wilford noted.

“Indeed I am.” Severus stirred the pan again. “When Hermione began making food in her microwave, I realized I missed certain nonmagical technologies. Together, we decided that we wanted to honor who we are by using nonmagical technology.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Muriel answered.

Severus glanced in Hermione’s direction. “Does this appear to be done to you?”

Hermione stepped closer. “Yes, it appears to be done.”

“Excellent.” He stepped back and kept his magic flowing to the oven. Hermione moved his hand onto the knob, allowing him to extinguish the flames.

“You two seem to understand what being a nonmagical person is without patronizing us,” Wilford answered. “We could use people like you in the Wizarding World giving an accurate representation of who we are, and not some parody version nobody in the nonmagical world would recognize.”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an ambassador of anything.” Severus stepped away from the oven, allowing Hermione to grab a potholder.

“Perhaps not, but we need more people like you to understand who we are and make real attempts to reach out to us.”

“Indeed,” Muriel approached him. “We want real representation, not a parody or someone talking about us while considering us inferior. That's what brings real connection: being people, not causes.”

“I can certainly understand that.” The blurred image of Hermione removed the pan from the oven.

“If you need any help understanding how we live, please ask us,” Muriel answered. “We’re more than happy to help you with anything you need. Our technology has changed, so we can help you understand things better than a five-year-old book.”

“We could actually use help procuring an oven.”

“Severus,” Hermione hissed.

“Indeed, I would like to purchase an oven sometime,” Severus continued. “I do not know how to install a gas line, though.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Muriel answered. “There are electric ovens.”

“There are?”

“Yes, and they are much safer than gas ovens.”

“You have an electric oven, don’t you?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” Muriel answered. “If you would like, I can show you how it works.”

Severus followed the footsteps of everyone to the table. “I would not mind that.”

“Yes,” Hermione approached him and whispered, “I’m going to touch you now.”

He nodded as she linked arms with his.

“Are there any ovens that use sound or voice to determine their modes and the temperature they are set at?” Hermione guided Severus to a chair.

“There are,” Muriel drawled. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” A chair scooted near where Hermione stood. “We are just curious as to what our options are.”

“There are several good options,” Wilford answered. “If you’d like, we can take you to an appliance store and show you what’s available.”

“I would like that.” Hermione guided Severus downwards until he was seated. Then, she pushed the chair in. He frowned when she released his arm, already missing the sensation of her against him.

“You certainly are chivalrous today,” Wilford noted.

“I’m not chivalrous,” she answered. “But I do know how to treat my partner properly.”

“And I know how to treat my partner well.” He reached for her hand. Once she took it, he lowered her until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “She is the best friend I’ve ever had. I never want her to regret one moment she’s spent with me.”

“I feel the same way.” She leaned close enough to where he could see her glistening eyes.

Without prompting, Severus captured Hermione’s lips. She responded, as eager for his kiss as he was for hers. Even if the relationship was only for show, the affection between them was real. Somehow, they would help each other through their various struggles.

It was unfortunate that their bond wouldn't last once Mr. Weasley reentered the picture.

Chapter Text

Hermione waved as her parents left the house. Her father gave her one last smile while her mother blew a kiss. Then, Wilford took Muriel’s hand, touched the watch on his right wrist, and disappeared.

For a moment, Hermione’s eyes rested on the spot where they had stood, a thousand thoughts racing in her head, yet not a word reached her lips.

“Dinner was lovely.”

Hermione turned to Severus, who stood behind her. “Your parents are wonderful people. You are lucky to have them in your life.”

“I am very lucky to have them for parents.” She stepped back and closed the door.

“I…” he swallowed. “I will miss having dinner with them once this relationship ends.”

She cocked her head. “Who said you couldn’t have dinner with them after our relationship ends?”

He frowned. “Do you honestly believe Mr. Weasley will allow your supposed ex-lover to dine with him and his potential in-laws?”

“If he knew you were helping me find a cure so I could be with him again…” She took a shaky breath as the image of Ron’s face, red with rage, came into her mind’s focus. The way he gripped his wand until it almost shattered under the weight, the look of murder in his eyes, and the harshness of his voice came flooding back. She sighed. “No, he would not want me to dine with you.”

“So I say it again, I will enjoy dining with your parents while I can.” There was more than a hint of regret in his voice.

“Look, I’ll find some way for all of you to dine together when all this is over.”

“How?”

“I.” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know; I’ll think of something.”

His disbelief was evident.

“Look, it may not even matter.” She shook her head. “Ron and I may never get back together. It may already be too late for us.”

“Why do you say that?” There was a flicker of something in his eyes, though Hermione could not discern what it may be.

She sighed. “Because he’s moved on from me.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Here, let’s sit down.” She extended her hand. “I’ll make us some tea.”

He blinked before fumbling for her arm.

She took a step back. “I’m to your left.”

“Thank you.” He linked his arm into hers.

“Could you please cast a Lumos spell?” She asked. “I tried casting one when I went to the bathroom earlier, but the light was dimmer than usual.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you. I need it, even if I’m not sure you do.”

“I can navigate just fine without one.”

“You can?”

“Indeed.” He smirked. “One perk of going blind is that I can see about as well at night as I can in the day.”

“Which means you are just as liable to hit something now as you would be in the daylight.” She stepped forward.

“I can walk just fine.”

“Clearly you can't if you’re continuing to crash into things.”

“I’ll manage,” his voice grew softer. “I always do.”

“You should do more than manage.” She entered the kitchen. “You should live your life to the fullest.”

“So you say.”

“I do say.” She turned to the kitchen table. “Would you like me to help you sit down?”

“I’m fine standing,” he answered.

“Fine,” she released him.

Severus’ eyes remained in her direction. “Back to what we were discussing earlier: you said that Mr. Weasley had moved on.”

“Indeed he has.” Her throat tightened as she began putting together the supplies to brew tea.

“How do you know that?”

“That Evening Prophet was dedicated to the Chudley Cannons winning their first game all season.”

“That is pathetic. From what I understand, the season is almost over.”

“Hence the reason it is on the front page.”

He wiped his face. “I will never understand how anyone could cheer for such an incompetent team.”

“You cheer for it either because you love an underdog or you are a glutton for punishment. Ron seemed to be the former, though I’m not so sure anymore. Perhaps his family all cheered for them, so he did it out of habit.” She pulled out her wand and intoned, “Aguamenti.”

Nothing occurred.

“Aguamenti.”

Still nothing.

“Would you like my help?” Severus asked.

“Sure.” Hermione positioned the kettle. “I have an idea of what your range is. It should be about where your spell normally hits.”

“Thank you.” He pulled out his wand and intoned, “Aguamenti.”

At first, the water hit the outside of the kettle. With a slight adjustment, the water began hitting its target.

After a few moments, Hermione replied, “We have enough.”

He stopped the spell.

“Perfect, thank you.” She closed the kettle. “Could you please turn on the stove?”

“Certainly,” he held out his hand. “Please guide me to the correct knob.”

“I will.” She linked her arm into his. Then, she guided him to the stove. “Is your eyesight getting worse?”

“Let’s just say that yesterday I could see the end of my bed. Now, I cannot see it at all. I can only make out my knees under the sheets.”

She took his hand and placed it over the knob. Then, he turned it, igniting the oven.

“You know.” She cracked a smile. “We make a pretty good team.”

“I will admit that working with you is not entirely unpleasant.” He put his hand by his side.

“It's honestly a new experience for me. I never worked well together with Ron. We were always too busy fighting to help each other out.” She bit her lip. “That feels weird to say.”

“Why?”

“Because Ron and I were supposed to be the Golden Duo, the couple who overcame all obstacles. Now though.” Her gaze shifted to the flame. “You and I work better together than Ron and I ever did. When I’m with you, I’m empowered to do things. We’re independent, yet we can tend to the other’s needs. It’s a great comfort to know you will always be by my side, helping me when I need assistance, yet giving me space when I need my freedom.”

“I can say the same of you.”

She hummed.

“Someone once told me that friends tended to each other’s needs, though I wouldn’t know how true that is,” he answered. "Very few people have ever considered me a friend. Even fewer have stuck by my side through my troubles."

“I consider you a friend.”

His eyes widened.

“Why do you appear so shocked? I thought I made it clear that we were friends.”

“I’m shocked because I actually believe you.” He swallowed. “I believe you won’t use me for your own ends or abuse me in any way.”

"And nobody's ever made you that promise, have they?"

His eyes told her all she needed to know.

“I promise to never use you,” she whispered. “I mean, we may be in a fake relationship, but I want to give you everything you need. I don’t want to take advantage of you. I want to help you in whatever way you will allow me to do so.”

“Is that why you were asking about microwaves and ovens that gave voice commands?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I thought that if I needed them, then perhaps you could need them too. It would be easier for you to have an oven with voice commands than to fumble around for the knobs and hope you turned the right one.”

“I will admit the idea of a voice-activated oven and microwave is intriguing even if…” His voice trailed off.

“Even if what?”

“It feels like you want to share your life with me even after all this is over.”

“I told you, I’m not abandoning you.”

“Even if you and Weasley reunite? Will you remain with me then?”

“Trust me,” she frowned. “It’s doubtful a reunion is in our future. He’s too busy snogging Romilda Vane to pay attention to me.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “He wants to date the person who accidentally poisoned him due to her obsessive crush on Potter?”

“Sometimes there’s no accounting for taste.”

“That is clear.”

“I should be upset.” She let out a sad laugh. “I should be heartbroken, crying in your arms, regretting the day I came up with this plan.”

“If you regret this plan, it is fine to say so. We can find a way to work through it.”

“There’s nothing to work through. I don’t regret any moment I’ve spent with you. As for Ron…" she shifted her foot. “He looked happy, happier than he was with me.”

Severus hummed.

“Don’t get me wrong, it hurts to know he could move on from me that quickly. It makes me feel forgettable.”

“You are anything but forgettable.”

“Sometimes I feel like I am. I mean, I’ve lost touch with quite a few of my friends from Hogwarts. In the photograph, the Weasleys were gathered around Romilda like she was meant to be Ron's wife.”

“And you wish they were gathered around you.”

“I wish Ron and I could’ve made each other happy. It would eliminate the thought that perhaps we never loved each other at all.”

“You seemed to love him.”

“Did I love him, or did I love the idea of the Golden Trio and want to keep it together even at the cost of my own happiness? Did I like being with the Weasleys, or did I just want to belong to any family in the Wizarding World? Did I hold on to Ron for too long and deny myself a chance to be in a relationship with a man who wouldn’t demean and insult me?”

“How would you answer those questions?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was quiet. “I suppose I’ll find out within the next few weeks. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter, though.”

“I’m inept in love. Nothing I say will be of any value,” he warned.

“But you must be thinking something,” she answered. “I can see it in your eyes. You have an opinion concerning all this.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath. “You deserve a man who doesn’t yell at and insult you. You need a man who will help you reach your potential and will cherish you forever. Whatever you do, do not tie yourself to someone who will mistreat you the way Mr. Weasley did.”

“Ron didn’t…” The words died on her tongue as every insult and loud night they spent together flooded her brain. For the first time, she realized she was relieved the arguing had ended. She didn't miss screaming at him every night, nor did she miss listening to him rant about her inadequacies.

Did that mean she didn't miss Ron?

“Yes,” his voice was low, “he did mistreat you.”

Before Hermione could think of a counterargument, the kettle whistled. She removed it from the stove and asked, “Do you need me to take your hand so you can shut off the stove?”

“That would be helpful.”

“Okay,” she put the kettle on another burner before guiding Severus’ hand to the proper knob. Then, she helped him shut off the stove. “Thank you for the help.”

“Thank you for the tea,” he answered.

“You are very welcome,” she began pouring the tea.

For a moment, silence fell between them. Hermione didn’t know if it was comforting or suffocating.

“Do you think I could really be a strange sort of advocate for Muggles by using their technology?” He asked.

She turned to him. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to.”

“Yes, but there’s my history and my blindness,” he argued. “It’s difficult to think I’d be an advocate for anything or anyone.”

“I know, but you have a strong will to survive.” She finished pouring the tea. “You never give up. If you want to be a blind potions master, you will do it. It may require a little bit of ingenuity, but you can and will do it.”

“I could say the same to you. You could live in the Wizarding World with a little ingenuity.”

“I hope so anyway.”

He fumbled before putting a hand on hers. “I know you can.”

She smiled. “Let’s make a pact. We both help each other through our conditions. No matter what happens, we will stick together forever.”

“I can agree to that.” His lips curled upwards.

“Good.” She handed him his tea. “That being said, I still want to research how magic could help us and those in situations similar to ours.”

“I am amenable to that.”

“Good.” She relaxed, knowing that with Severus by her side, anything was possible. Somehow, they would get through whatever their fates were, so long as they always stuck together.

Chapter Text

“That game was awesome!” Ron laughed and collapsed on his orange, pelted sofa. For a few seconds the room spun around. Still, he was able to swallow down his rising bile.

“Yes, it was nice to see the Cannons win for once.” Harry sat on the chair across from him before bursting out into laughter himself.

“It was nice to see you smile again.” Luna sat in a chair beside Harry, her stomach churning at the smell of alcohol on their breaths.

“Smile?” Ron struggled to sit upright, cursing his sixth can of beer for destroying any sense of balance he possessed.

“Yes, you looked happy with Romilda.” Luna rubbed her swollen abdomen. “It’s been a few years since you’ve laughed so hard and looked so relaxed with a woman.”

“What are you talking about?” He cocked his head. “I laughed with Hermione. Sometimes I was relaxed around her.”

“For a few hours you would be happy, but then you’d begin yelling at each other,” Harry noted.

“Yelling?” Ron huffed. “We didn’t yell. Hermione just got offended by some stupid thing and then went ballistic. I’d tell her to calm down, but she just nagged at me. Then we fought until we made up.”

“You two fought a lot,” Luna noted. “After a while it had to take a toll on you.”

“Not as much as being away from her does.” Ron frowned. “I mean sure, it’s nice to have someone not whining about how I don’t put my laundry away, and I appreciate the fact I can relax with a good Quidditch game on the radio without someone complaining that it’s boring, and I’m happy I don’t have to pretend to be interested in some Muggle author nobody's ever heard of. I couldn’t follow half of what Hermione said, so I tuned her out, so I like not pretending to care about things. Still, it’s just…” He swallowed the bile racing up his throat.

“It’s just?”

He shrugged. “I miss someone caring for me and me alone. I miss being important to someone. I miss falling asleep and waking up next to someone. I miss having someone love me.”

“You can have that with someone else."

“It won’t be the same.” Ron shook his head. “We were supposed to be the Golden Trio, together forever and all that shit. Then, she just ditched me for Snape. He gets all high and mighty because he has her in his life and I don’t, like he’s some kind of hero when all he did was snarl and yell at people. Nothing about him is that special. Really, they’re probably annoying each other right now because he’s a git and she’s Horrid Hermione.”

“Do you think calling her ‘horrid Hermione’ is going to win her back?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I mean no, I mean,” he sighed. “We’ll work it out. I called her names sometimes; she called me annoying. We always made up. She’ll get over the name when she comes to her senses and realizes we're meant to be together.”

“What if Molly calls her that? Don't you think that will hurt Hermione?”

“I’m sure after a few months Mum will stop calling her that.”

“But will you stop thinking of her as 'Horrid Hermione'?” Luna asked.

“Of course I will.” Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Once she starts acting like herself again, I’ll start treating her like she isn’t the most horrible woman I've met. Then, I'll stop thinking of her as 'horrid Hermione.'”

“If you continue to call her names, she’ll decide Snape is a better man for her.”

“How can he be? I’ll bet he calls her names all the time.”

“Do you have proof of that, or are you just assuming Severus behaves the same way you do at your worst?”

“He’s Snape. Of course he behaves badly. I mean, he called her a bushy-haired know-it-all and said he didn't notice any difference when her teeth grew.”

“Yes, but he was at Hogwarts playing a part. Any act of kindness could have put us all at risk. Since moving next door to her, has he ever called her a name?”

“No, I mean…look,” Ron snarled. “I’m trying to make sense of this whole Snape thing. First she’s ready to marry me, and then she’s snogging the greasy git. They’re off in restaurants and cafes together, carrying on as if I don’t exist. It’s as if the last several years didn’t happen.”

“You aren’t wrong that the whole thing is weird,” Harry cut in. “I mean, Snape was in love with my mum, and then he moves on with Hermione. It does make him look like a lecherous old man.”

“Perhaps if you would approach Hermione as a friend and stop attacking Severus, she would tell you what she sees in Severus.”

“No, I will find out what’s happening for myself, and I won’t be nice to Snape at all," Ron argued.

“How are you going to find out what’s wrong with her?”

Ron slumped. “If I had the foggiest clue, I would tell you.”

The room fell silent. Ron stared at a stain on the carpet from a spilled glass of whiskey while Luna put a hand over her bump.

“Luna’s right,” Harry began in a quiet voice. “You looked happier today than you’ve been in a long time.”

“Today was fun.” Ron’s voice was soft. “I wasn’t yelling at Romilda to pay attention because she was reading a book or taking a nap. Talking to her was easy. I had fun. Even my family seemed to like her. She fit in well with us.”

“Perhaps that’s something to build off of,” Luna noted.

“Maybe.” Ron swallowed. “I still deserve to know what this whole Snape thing is all about, though.”

“You may never know why Hermione ran off with Snape,” Luna warned. “You may be better off just letting go of finding out why and moving forward with your life.”

“Yes, but I’m owed the real reason, and not some bullshit reason about him being hotter, smarter, or easier to talk to. Hermione owes me the truth. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know everything.”

“Sometimes we don’t get the truth or the closure we desire.”

“Yes, but I deserve the truth too,” Harry argued. “I mean, Snape was in love with my mother, and now he’s kissing Hermione. The whole thing is creepy.”

“Snape is allowed to move on and find love again.”

“Yes, but with my best friend? He went from my mum to my best friend?” Harry shuddered.

“That seems to be the case.”

“How could he do that? My mum was irreplaceable. Nobody was or ever will be like her. Everyone has told me how wonderful she was. Hermione is great, but she will never be as perfect as my mother.”

“Nobody will replace your mother, but she has been dead for over two decades. It’s healthy for Severus to move forward and live his best life.”

“With ‘Mione?” Ron sputtered.

“If that is what they want, then yes.”

Ron groaned and put his head in his hands.

“We deserve a few answers, if only so we can remain friends,” Harry cut in.

“You want to remain her friend after all this?” Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

“I was hoping we could.”

“She betrayed me in the worst way possible, and you still want to be her friend?

“I mean,” Harry gulped. “I was hoping we could regain our friendship.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. She betrayed you, not me. Once we get this Snape thing figured out, we can decide where to go from there. Regardless, the Golden Trio needs to remain together. Otherwise…” His throat tightened. “A huge part of my family will be gone.”

Ron exhaled. “That’s why I need Hermione back. We aren’t complete without her. If we want to stick together and be who we always were, we need her.”

“What if you could become something new?” Luna asked. “Perhaps you won’t be as close as you were, but what if you could have a new, healthier relationship?”

“Whose side are you on?” Harry snapped.

“I’m on the side that gives everyone peace.”

“I’ll only have peace when Hermione is back in my arms and ready to be my wife,” Ron argued.

“And I’ll be at peace when Snape gets his grimy hands off my best friend,” Harry argued.

Luna shook her head, hoping somehow her friends wouldn't destroy any chance they had of remaining friends with Hermione.

***

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. Warmth filled her essence. There was a pressure against her body, as if someone was holding her the way she’d always dreamed of being held.

“Good morning, Love.” A low, silky voice whispered in her ear.

She felt his fingers go through her hair before she turned and met his black eyes.

“I trust that you slept well.” He brushed his lips against hers.

“I did.” She relaxed. “How could I not while I’m in your arms?”

Insecurity seeped into his expression. "I would think that having someone almost two decades your senior smothering you would not be conducive to a good night's sleep.”

“Oh no, it helps me sleep very well knowing you are beside me.” She kissed his nose for emphasis.“I’m not happy unless I’m with you.”

He let out a low chuckle, which sent waves of desire throughout her body. “Well, my queen, who am I to deny you your happiness?”

“You wouldn’t deny me anything.”

“No, I would never deny you a thing.” He continued to run her fingers through her hair. “That being said, we have a few more moments before our progenies come barging in demanding our attention. I say we savor our last moments of solitude.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She captured his lips.

Before Hermione could feel Severus’ lips against hers, her eyes shot open.

She gasped before glancing at her surroundings. Unlike the bedroom in her dream, it was heartbreakingly her own. Once again she was alone, without Severus or any rambunctious progenies.

Her throat tightened as she considered the idea of children. A year ago, she would have said children were the last thing she’d ever wanted. When she thought she was pregnant with Ron’s child, she was terrified. The last thing she wanted was to be tied to him for an eternity through a child. Now, she wondered what her children with Severus would look like, how they would behave, and which house they’d be sorted into, assuming they went to Hogwarts, and if they would go into potions or medicine.

She blinked before turning to the house next door. Severus was strolling down his hallway, oblivious to her gaze and her dream. Like her, he was alone. Unlike her, he was unperturbed.

Hermione buried her face into a pillow and groaned. When had Severus become sexually desirable? Sure, he’d always had a certain type of charm. He wasn’t conventionally attractive, but he demanded her attention. Even when she was lusting after Lockhart, she had to admit he was a close second in terms of desirability.

Now she was dreaming of waking up in his arms, sneaking in a few moments of pleasure before their children awoke.

For a moment, her mind wandered to how he may appear without clothes. Granted, he had scars, but she would imagine they were beautiful. All of them were symbols of his survival, of the obstacles he’d overcome to become the man he was. If he asked her to, she wouldn’t mind capturing his lips, just to see if he was as good a kisser in reality as he was in her fantasies.

She moaned and turned her head to the right. Her body was awake, very awake after that dream.

Did she miss sex so much that she wanted to sleep with the person who had become her best friend? It had only been a couple of weeks since she’d last fucked Ron. Still, that wasn't nearly as erotic as the dream she just had. Ron had lost his spark, but Severus was a firework awaiting to ignite the night sky with her.

Had the sex become so boring over the years she was now lusting after her next-door neighbor?

Why on earth did she want to make love, have children, and start a life with Severus?

“I don’t want a life with Severus,” she whispered into the room. “This dream means nothing. I’m lonely and scared. That’s all this is. I’m lonely and scared and am clinging to anything I can find. Severus is a friend. We may talk about having a life together, but that is just because we need a friend to help us adjust to our circumstances. Our relationship will never progress past friendship.”

Satisfied with her explanation for the dream, she sat upright and turned to the window. Clothes in hand, Severus took a few cautious steps from his closet to the bathroom. For a moment, Hermione wondered what it would be like to make love to him in the shower, whisper in her ear how much she cared for him, and feel his wet body against hers.

Her stomach sank at the realization that her feelings for Severus may no longer be as imaginary as she intended them to be.

Chapter Text

Everything always felt better after a shower. Granted, when Hermione's mother said that, she had been speaking of warm showers after a long day of working with patients screaming about their dental bills. Today called for a cold shower, though, one that would freeze her body until she could expel the dreams of Severus in her arms, preparing to make love to her until they were united for the rest of eternity. After several minutes of shivering under the water, the desire to make love to him was gone, or at least suppressed enough that she could function. Once her body could take the cold no more, she stepped out. With any luck, she’d behave like a proper fake girlfriend and forget the desire to tear off the buttons on his frock coat and kiss him until he was pleading with her to make love to him.

She sighed as the dream played out in her mind for the thirteenth time that morning. Then, she reminded herself that this was reality. Dreams never came true, not for her anyway. Her dreams of true love had all crumbled before her with the fading of her magic. This one would be no different.

After dressing herself, she pulled out her wand and intoned, “usuca-mi parul.”

Her hair did not dry as it should have.

Scowling, she cast the spell again.

Nothing.

Her body temperature as she gripped her wand. “Uscuca-mi parul!”

A drop of water fell from her hair.

She let out a scream as her hair continued to drip.

She raised the wand. Before she could cast the spell again, someone knocked upon the door. She raised an eyebrow. Earlier, she’d told Severus she would meet him at his house. Why would he venture out knowing he could stumble over something?

“Hermione? Are you there?”

She groaned and shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to deal with Harry. Still, if she didn’t grant him some sort of audience, he would barge inside, claiming that as his best friend, it was his right to do so.

Grumbling about her cold, dripping wet hair, she stormed to the front door and flung it open.

“Hermione.” Harry swallowed. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“You aren’t.” She exhaled.

"Are you sure? You look disheveled."

“I'm fine. I’ve just had a chaotic morning.”

“Looks like it anyway.” His eyes softened. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her stomach sank as words flooded her brain. Part of her did want to talk about how frustrating it was that her hair-drying spell wasn’t cooperating, but how could she explain that without revealing she was losing her magic? How could she explain that she was becoming a squib and working with Severus was the only chance of finding a cure? How could she explain that she didn't want his pity or Ron’s abandonment: all she wanted was a true friend and for Severus to be her lover in every sense of the word?

“No,” she finally settled on the word. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“I promise not to judge you if you tell me what is going on.”

She fidgeted, wondering how true those words were.

“Are you still upset about Ron?” His voice was soft.

“No, I'm not," she answered.

“Are you certain?” Harry stepped closer.

“I’m positive.” She backed into her house. “If Ron is all you want to talk about, then you need to leave now.”

“No, I want to talk to you.” He approached her and folded his hands. “Please, let’s talk the way we used to.”

“Fine.” The tension in her muscles eased. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I, uh…” He bit his lip. “I was wondering how things were going.”

Terrible. I’m losing everything I’ve ever worked for, you hate the only person who can save me, and despite my cold shower, I still find Severus Snape the most irresistible man I've ever seen. 

“I’m fine,” she answered.

“You, uh, seem happy in the pictures of you with Snape. It's odd to see you smile so widely on the front page of The Daily Prophet. Usually, you looked annoyed when they'd take your picture.”

“There's no reason to be annoyed. Severus and I are happy together. We may as well show it to the world.” She didn’t dare tell him how happy Severus made her.

“And, uh, you don’t miss Ron?”

“No, I don’t, not really.”

“Why?” Harry snapped. “You were with him for seven years, yet you’ve moved on as if he was nothing.”

“If all you’re going to do is advocate for Ron…”

“I’m not here to advocate for him.”

“Good, because I don’t want to explain myself again.”

“But I am owed an explanation.”

“Of what?”

“I want to understand how you could date the person who was in love with my mother,” Harry retorted.

“It’s easy,” she snapped. “He doesn’t scream at me for reading too much or complain that I don’t cook and clean the house the way his mother does.”

Harry scratched his chin. “Molly did set a high standard for being a good wife.”

“It’s one I can’t live up to. I’m tired of trying.” She sagged. “I’m tired of living up to Ron’s impossible standards. For the first time in my life, I have a man who appreciates me for who I am, not for what I can do for him. It’s refreshing to have such a person in my life.”

“Yes, but what about our family?”

“Our family?” She cocked her head.

“Yes, you, Ron, and I made up the Golden Trio. We were all supposed to be one happy family. Sure, I didn’t marry Ginny, but you could still join the Weasleys. Three months ago, you said that’s what you wanted most in life," he answered. "What happened to us remaining a family?"

“Maybe marrying Ron to keep up the image of the Gold Trio isn’t what I need!”

Harry closed his mouth.

“Look.” Her muscles tightened. “I know my relationship with Severus is sudden. It’s sudden for me too. Still, I like spending time with someone who doesn’t make passive-aggressive comments towards me, who doesn’t argue over every little thing I do, and who doesn’t abandon me when I need him the most. I mean, Severus likes my parents. He cooks with me.”

“Severus is capable of cooking?”

“Yes. He makes an excellent stir-fry pot roast along with many other dishes.”

“And Ron doesn’t cook?”

“Is that a real question?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Great, now that I've explained myself...” She pointed to the other end of the yard. “You may leave now.”

“No, wait…” He shook his head. “I just want to understand all this. You’ve left your friends and your job, and now you’re saying you didn’t need the people who loved you like you were a member of their family?”

“I’m saying.” She sighed. “I’m saying that I’m taking time for myself and reassessing my life. There were things in my life that weren’t going well, things I didn’t notice weren't right until now.”

“I’m sure Snape helped you realize those things.” His voice was dripping with venom.

“Believe it or not, not everything in my life is about Snape.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

Hermione threw up her hands. “This conversation isn’t productive.”

“I know, I know,” Harry exhaled. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to make sense of all this. I mean, he’s replaced my mum with you. Isn’t that a little creepy?”

“That is quite enough, Mr. Potter.”

Harry and Hermione turned to Severus, who was following a growling Crookshanks.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Harry spat. “It seems that wherever Hermione goes, there you are, making sure she does whatever you say.”

“He doesn’t control me the way Ron wanted to control me!” She yelled.

“Then why is he here?” Harry pointed to Severus. “Why can’t he allow you to handle your own problems?”

“I’m not here to resolve her problems,” Severus snapped. “I’m here to correct an egregious misunderstanding you have about me.”

“And what would that be?”

“Hermione is not a replacement for anyone,” his voice was low with more than a hint of danger. “She is above all other women, unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Everything about her is outstanding, beyond all comparisons. Anyone who thinks she is a replacement for anyone else is the most foolish dunderhead alive.”

“What about my mother? Wasn’t she irreplaceable?” Harry spat.

“Hermione is not your mother, nor will she ever be.” His eyes softened. “I do not want her to be your mother either. I want Hermione Granger to be Hermione Granger, not Lily Potter, not Molly Weasley, not Romilda Vane. I want, no need, her to be Hermione Granger.”

There was a pang in Hermione’s chest. For years she’d yearned for a man to say these things about her, to accept her as she was without comparing her to anyone else. Yet the person saying these words didn’t mean them. He was trying to prove a point, keeping up a facade she had asked him to create.

It was enough to bring a tear to her eye.

Harry’s eyes were wide. “You called my mum Lily Potter.”

Hermione blinked, taking note of the name too.

“That is her name.” Severus’ voice was softer. “It is about time I start using it.”

“Y-you,” Harry shook. “You mean what you’re saying: Hermione isn’t a replacement for my mum.”

“No, she isn’t,” Severus answered. “She is her own woman. I only want her to be herself.”

“And you’ve moved on from my mum.” There was a flash of hurt in Harry’s eyes. “After all these years, you’ve moved on from her.”

“Yes, and I feel better for doing so. I am now liberated from my past and ready to enjoy my future.”

“So.” Harry’s face turned red. “My mum was nothing to you then! All those words about loving only her…”

“Were said by a seventeen-year-old who had no idea what love truly was.”

"What do you mean?"

"It means I didn't understand that love was a partnership. While the person you loved should not tolerate abuse from you, they should also accept you will make mistakes. Someone who loves you will remain by your side, not flirt when you're hanging upside down. In a loving relationship, not everything is your fault. Issues are discussed, not swept under the rug. Love means that you bring out the best in each other. You should love a real person, not someone you conjured in your head. I did not understand those things until now."

Harry closed his mouth.

“I understand that you want some link to your mother, someone who misses her as much as you do. That man is not me, not anymore. She will always be your mum. She does not always need to be the woman I have cared for the most," Severus concluded.

“Don’t you mean loved the most?”

"I understand every word I speak." Severus glared at Harry. "Even if it is difficult for you to hear them."

“We don’t want to define our relationship,” Hermione cut in. “We prefer to only reveal our sentiments to each other in the privacy of our own library.”

“Sure.” Harry huffed.

“Potter,” Severus’ voice was low, “I know the truth about my sentiments towards your mother must be jarring, but it is time to face the truth. My world didn’t stop after the war. I moved forward.”

“I can see that.” Harry’s eyes darted between Hermione and Severus. “Even if you don’t.”

“Excuse me?” Severus asked.

Harry turned to Hermione. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’s clear you two have some sort of attachment to each other. I only hope you two don’t destroy each other.”

“We won’t,” Hermione vowed. “I care too much for Severus to ever intentionally cause him pain.”

“I care too much for Hermione to harm her as well,” Severus answered.

“You two still are who you are,” Harry warned.

“And I accept her for who she is,” Severus argued.

“And I accept him for who he is,” Hermione replied.

“Fine.” Harry’s eyes softened as he turned to Hermione. “Whatever happens, I hope you know that I will always be your friend.”

“I know, though you’d be a better one if you would stop comparing me to Lily and accept that I am with Severus now.”

“We would both appreciate that,” Severus added.

“Fine.” Harry took a deep breath. “It’s obvious you’re fine with Ron moving on too.”

“He deserves to be happy,” Hermione answered. “We all do.”

“Yes, we do.” Harry raised his hand. With a crack, he apparated away.

For a second, the only sound was Crookshanks’ purring. He strutted towards Hermione, Severus a few steps behind him.

“I apologize if I intruded upon anything,” Severus began. “I would have stayed inside, but Crookshanks was meowing and insistent that I leave. When I realized I would have difficulty getting anywhere without him, I followed him here.”

“That’s fine.” She took note of how close Severus was to her. “I’m glad you came.”

“Please do not believe that I think you are incapable of dealing with your own issues. You were handling Mr. Potter just fine on your own.”

“No, I appreciated you sticking up for me.” She cracked a smile. “It’s nice to have someone stick up for me for once.”

“I will always stand by and stick up for you.” He met her eyes.

“I know.” She gazed into his eyes, wondering once again what it would be like to brush his lips against her.

A breeze blew, tugging on her soaking hair.

“I, uh,” she swallowed. “I feel embarrassed asking you this, but could you help me dry my hair? The spell wasn’t working, and I’ve given up on trying.”

“Indeed I can.” He pulled out his wand and intoned, “usuca-ti parul.”

Her hair was dry.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling her blush form. “I will be with you shortly. Right now I need to brush my hair. My hair must look like a mess right now.”

“No, it looks beautiful.”

She fidgeted. “With all due respect, you don’t have the best vision anymore.”

“No, I’m standing close enough to see your face.” He kept his gaze on her. “Wet hair or dry hair, you are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“There is never any need to thank me for my honesty.”

“Can…” She swallowed. “Can I give you a hug? I want to be close to you.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She returned the embrace, inhaling the aroma of herbs and other potions ingredients on his robes.

In that moment, their relationship was the most real thing Hermione had ever experienced, though she dared never speak it aloud, lest he remind her that it was all a facade that would vanish the second her magic returned.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean he doesn’t fit the profile of someone who would give someone a love potion?” Ron spat as he slammed his beer onto the table. Liquid splashed from the can onto the faded wood.

“I’ve investigated several rapes that were the result of a love potion. Snape doesn’t fit the profile of someone who uses one,” Harry answered. "He's never used force on anyone before, nor is he demanding adoration or a public show."

"Of course he's demanding adoration."

"No, people who drug others with a love potion tend to demand the victim say how much they love them. They think the more flowery the language, the more convincing their love must be. Snape isn't doing that. He isn't asking for Hermione to say she loves him. In fact, she doesn't say that to him at all."

"So she doesn't love him."

“I don't know. All I know is that in his own odd way, Snape cares for Hermione. He accepts her for who she is and takes no interest in changing her or forcing her to love him.”

“That's a lie. He's poisoned her,” Ron argued as Molly put a bowl of steaming scalloped potatoes on the table. "There has to be proof of that!"

“I looked into her pupils. They were not dilated. At no point was she slurring or tripping over her words, nor was she repeating mantras. Most telling, though,” Harry straightened his posture. “As I noted earlier, she never said that she loved him.”

George paled as he sat beside Ron. “The first thing she would say if she were being poisoned would be, ‘I love Snape.’”

"Yes," Harry answered. "She never said that to him. She's never said that to him."

“Could Snape have given her a potion that would prevent her from telling him he loved her?” Ron asked.

“No.” George shook his head. “Every love potion I sell would cause Hermione to declare her undying love for Severus the second someone asked about her feelings for him. She wouldn’t be able to shut up about how much she loved him if she were poisoned.”

“They care for each other, but they do not want to say they love each other.” Harry shook his head. “It’s the most Snape and Hermione way to be in a relationship. I don't know why I would've expected anything else.”

“Fine, she won't say she loves Snape, but turning her back on us and saying she doesn’t consider us family isn’t like her,” Ron argued.

“Oh, I disagree.” Molly crossed her arms over her chest. “Hermione has always taken our family for granted. She thinks she’s so much better than us because she reads more books and knows about muggle society. Half the time, she seems annoyed with Arthur when he asks about Muggle technology, like she’s too high and mighty to explain it all to us.”

“I agree,” Arthur carried in the ham from the kitchen. “Hermione could be very short when all I did was ask about muggle technology. I would try to have conversations with her about toasters, but she would always change the subject. After a while, it was quite hurtful to think she didn't want to talk about how fascinating her old life was.”

“Do you think she wanted to talk about something else and felt as if you were only tolerating her because she knew about Muggle technology?” Luna rubbed her hand along her bulging stomach.

“No.” Arthur gasped as he set the ham on the table. “I loved her like a daughter. She knew that, or should have anyway.”

“I’m not sure she did,” Luna answered as Molly returned to the kitchen. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t be behaving the way she is.”

“But we did love her as a family,” Bill replied from across the table. “It isn’t our fault that she took us for granted and ran off with a greasy git.”

“And now the only family she has are her stuck-up parents and Snape.” George’s frown deepened.

“Yes, they do have an odd ‘us against the world’ thing going on.” Harry scratched his chin.

“What do you mean?” Luna asked.

“I mean, Hermione looked like she wanted to tell me something a few times. She would stare at me, bite her lip, and then change the subject.”

Ron’s eyes bulged. “You don’t think the greasy git is hurting her, do you?”

“No, she was too at ease in his presence, and he seems sincere in caring for her,” Harry answered. “But both of them are hiding something.”

“What do you think they’re hiding?” George asked.

“I don’t know. Still, this whole sudden undying devotion to each other is odd. I mean, Hermione’s giving me these looks like she wants to say something, Severus can't look me in the eyes, and he was following Crookshanks, who was growling at me the way he used to growl at you.”

“I've always hated that cat.”

“I know you do, but it seems to have taken some sort of liking to Snape.”

“Snape follows Crookshanks around sometimes,” Ron answered. “He’s been doing that for about a year now.”

“Yes, but this time he seemed dependent on Crookshanks’ growling. He wouldn’t so much as take a step without that cat purring or meowing. It was odd.”

“It is,” Bill admitted. “Most people try to stay as far away from that pissy thing as possible. I mean, watching it during the war was torture. All it did was hiss at us and run away when we tried to pet it.”

“It likes Snape, though,” Ron answered. “It’s always liked Snape.”

“I know, but it's weird.”

“Maybe not, because Snape's just as cranky as Crookshanks,” Ron grumbled. “Personally, I wish Crookshanks would just live with Snape. It would save me so much trouble when I reunite with Hermione.”

“You still want horrid Hermione back in your life?” Molly exclaimed as she carried a green bean casserole from the kitchen to the table.

“I want to know why she dumped me, and then I want her to apologize. Then, I want her to reorganize my broom collection.” Ron frowned. "I can’t find some of my favorite brooms now. She always kept things more organized than I did. After that, we can properly make up, but first, I want a clean broom collection.”

Luna put her head in her hands.

“What?” Ron snapped.

She poked her head up. “Do you think that Arthur not taking interest in Hermione as a person and you wanting her to be your maid could have led to her running into Snape’s arms?”

“No, that’s always how I've treated her, and she was fine with it.”

“Was she fine with it, or did she tell you she was to avoid a fight?”

"Everything was fine until Snape started blackmailing her.”

“Blackmailing her?” Luna raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, if he didn’t use a potion to seduce her, then he blackmailed her into being with him.”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Harry cut in.

“But you said she seems to be hiding something,” George argued. “It would be just like Snape to blackmail a woman into warming his bed.”

“Yes, but I think Snape has a secret too, one he doesn’t want coming out either,” Harry argued. “If Hermione is being blackmailed, she could blackmail Snape in return. Instead, they are interested in protecting each other and themselves from the rest of the world.”

“So what do you think this huge secret is?” George’s voice lacked its previous hostility, replaced instead with curiosity.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered. “Whatever these secrets are, they are big. Both of them will go to great lengths to protect themselves and each other from whatever threat they believe is there.”

“Then it’s up to us to find out what these secrets are,” Ron argued.

“Why would we do that?” Molly asked as she sat down. “Why not just leave Hermione and Snape alone so they can destroy each other in peace?”

“Because Snape needs to pay for what he’s done. If his secret getting out is one way of doing it, then I say we plaster it all over The Daily Prophet. That way, everyone will know what kind of man he is.”

“I think people already know what kind of man he is,” Luna warned.

“Yes, but if I discover these secrets, then everyone will know exactly who both of them are.”

“Or you could move on and live a happy life without her,” Luna cut in. “You could wait for her to tell you her secret so you can support her in the best way possible.”

“No, Ron’s right,” Bill cut in. “We’re her adopted family. If she needs help, we should be the ones giving it to her, not the dungeon bat.”

“Like it or not, she’s turned to him for help, not us,” Luna argued. “It’s best that we be patient and let her tell us what’s happening in her own time. That way, we can support her in the way she needs us to.”

“Why do we care about Horrid Hermione?” Molly screeched. “I say good riddance to bad rubbish. Let’s forget about her and move onto something more productive!”

“I loved Hermione,” Ron argued. “I want her back now.”

“You loved Hermione?” Luna asked.

“Loved, I mean I love her, I mean.” He glared at her. “You know what I mean.”

"Yes, I do." Luna hummed.

“If you need any help discovering that greasy git’s secret, count me in,” George smirked. “I’d love to see the look on his face when he realizes he isn’t half as clever as he thinks he is.”

“If you think his secret is going to harm Hermione, I will help however I can as well,” Harry replied. "Someone needs to protect her. Who better to do so than us?"

“Thank you.” Ron rubbed his hands together. “With you and the Weasley family working together, we’ll break the hold Snape has over Hermione. Once that happens, we’ll make sure his little secret gets out. After that, Hermione will realize I’m more of a man than that greasy git will ever be.”

***

Until now, Severus had never considered that a woman brushing her hair had a specific sound. When he brushed his hair, he did so in such a hurry that he paid no attention to sound. Then again, even sighted, he couldn't have cared less about his hair. It was black and forever greasy. All it needed was to be parted, and he could continue on with his day.

“You did an excellent job of drying my hair,” Hermione began. “It looks even better than when I do it.”

“I am pleased my hair-drying skills meet your expectations,” he lowered his voice. “They never met anyone else’s.”

“They don't?”

“No.” He dug his foot into the ground. “In part because it took me years to master the spell.” 

She stopped brushing. “You knew dark spells most seventh years hadn’t mastered, yet you had difficulty casting a hair-drying spell?”

“Indeed I did.” His voice was softer.

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid to cast one.”

“You were?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“During my first summer home, I cast a hair-drying spell because I was in a hurry.” He shook at the memory of the overwhelming odor of liquor on his father’s breath. “My father saw me do it and began screaming at me for being a freak. He slammed me against the wall and threatened to break my wand. The only reason he didn’t do it was because Mum reminded him it would cost us more money to buy me a new wand. It didn’t stop him from breaking a rib and my nose, though.”

“Merlin,” she whispered.

Severus couldn’t see her expression, though he could imagine it. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not,” she argued. “I feel compassion for you.”

“Compassion, pity, it’s all the same.”

“No, it isn’t. Pity is looking down on someone, like, I’m sorry you don’t understand magical culture like a real witch. Compassion means I know what you went through must be awful, and I never want you to suffer anything like that again.”

“Perhaps in your mind they are different, but I’d imagine you look at me the same way when you experience both.”

“Do you want to know how I appear now?” She approached him until she was in his line of sight. “Look into my eyes.”

He met her gaze and found a soft gaze he’d never seen from another woman. Everyone else looked at him with contempt or derision. Even in their pity, they couldn’t help but find him repulsive. Hermione’s look was different, though. This was the compassion of equals, someone who believed he only deserved happiness, someone worthy of affection, something Severus had yet to experience.

“You do care,” he whispered. For a second, he wondered what it would be like to capture her lips, to make it clear how much he in turn cared. Yet, the moment was too sacred to mar with an ill-advised kiss, which would inevitably be met with a well-deserved hex to the balls.

“I do care,” she whispered.

He took note of a strand of hair that had fallen. He took it and placed it behind her ear, savoring the feeling of its softness. Never before had he cared about how a woman felt. When he had sex with a woman, they were both fulfilling an animalistic need that would be satisfied by the dawn. Touching Hermione was a spiritual experience, as if their souls were drawn together, yearning to be absorbed into each other. For that reason, he didn’t remove his hands from her hair.

“Severus?”

He hummed, keeping his hands in her hair.

“Does my hair feel like a tangled mess to you?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

She swallowed. “How does it feel?”

“Soft, very soft,” he whispered. “Much softer than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Skepticism flickered in her eyes.

“You have amazing hair.” He ran his fingers through it. “The kind of hair that makes me grateful I must pay more attention to my sense of touch. Otherwise, I would be so busy taking in its visual beauty that I would miss how it felt in my hands.”

She grinned. “Now there’s a benefit to having you as a friend; I can have as many bad hair days around you as I want, and you’d never notice.”

He chuckled. “I suppose that is one benefit.”

“You,” she squirmed. “You weren’t offended by that?”

“No,” he replied. “I am relieved you can joke about my condition. It makes me feel less alone, like I am not such a freak.”

“You were never a freak, at least no more of one than I was.” She rested her head against his chest.

“You aren’t a freak,” he answered.

“Neither are you.”

He continued to run his fingers through her hair, wondering if he would’ve taken this for granted if he wasn’t going blind. Was being blind limiting him, or was he finally beginning to appreciate the world in a different, new way, one most wizards could only imagine?

“I suppose I’ll have to buy a hair dryer soon, unless you want me to come over to your house every day asking for you to dry my hair,” she replied.

“I do not mind drying your hair.” He stilled his hand. “If you ever need someone to do it, I am more than willing to do so.”

“Thank you, but I’d imagine some mornings you will want to brew instead of deal with a witch’s fashion choices. I suppose we’ll need to find a hair dryer, although.” She shifted. “I could never find one I liked. All of them either made my hair too frizzy or didn’t dry it well enough.”

“We can go shopping together to find a hair dryer that works.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Provided you understand I will not be much help. I’m hopeless when it comes to hair.”

“I could help you find a hair dryer that works if you want me to. Granted, I won’t be much help,” she laughed. “But I can do whatever I can.”

“You’ll be a great help. I trust you with my hair.”

“You do?” She looked at him.

He shrugged. “You can’t make it look any worse than it already does.”

"You look quite dashing."

"Dashing?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you have a certain charm about you, one most people miss. Still, I'm noticing it." She relaxed in his embrace. 

"Then I suppose you'll have to show me how to do my hair so I can continue to appear dashing."

“You trust me then?”

“Of course I do.”

“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I appreciate it.”

“There’s never any need to thank me for my honesty,” he answered.

Together they stood in each other’s embrace, relieved that regardless of what happened, they would always have someone by their side.

Chapter Text

Even if Severus couldn’t see Hermione, he felt the weight of her stare. It was disconcerting yet comforting. Disconcerting because he couldn’t meet her eyes and discern her expression. Comforting because he knew whatever her expression was, she would not let any harm befall him. If he were in danger, she'd be the first to alert him. Somehow, they would dispel it together.

It was the most disconcerting kind of comfort.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He asked.

“Yes,” her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

“You should just say what you want to say. I will take no offense at anything you say.”

"Do you mean that?"

"I do." He exhaled. "Though I can understand why you would doubt me given my past behavior."

"Oh no, you aren't the issue; it's just..." Her voice trailed off.

"You're used to men shouting at you if you ask too many questions."

"Yes."

"I promise not to be one of them," his voice was tender. "Please tell me anything."

“Well.” Her footsteps approached his chair. “I found some fascinating uses for thoroughbred blood. Some researchers in Kentucky are using it to help reduce the pain associated with Skele-Gro. There is some preliminary research saying thoroughbred blood could help ease the symptoms of dark magic, though these ideas are only in the theoretical stage. They aren’t doing any work in repairing magical cores, but what if they are right that it could reduce the dark magic in someone’s body? What if it could help eliminate the dark magic that is destroying my core?”

“Intriguing.” He reached for the book. “I am reading some fascinating uses for toad’s tongues, which you may find useful as well.”

“Would you like to exchange books?”

“Certainly.” He handed her his book and took hers, doing his best not to look like a fool who had completely lost the ability to read. The last thing he needed was for her to believe he was incompetent at research.

Despite his squinting, the letters remained a blur.

Grunting, he held the book up to his face. His head ached from how much he was struggling to see. His frown deepened as he recalled that a year ago, reading glasses were effective. Now, there was no point in even buying a pair. He was dependent upon Braille for any type of reading.

“Uh, Severus?”

He turned in her direction. “What?”

“I can’t read Braille, and I don’t know the spell to turn Braille into letters.” The aroma of her strawberry shampoo wafted in the air, sending warmth through Severus’ body. “Could you turn these back into letters?”

“I do not know how advisable that is,” Severus answered. “The spell that translates books into Braille permanently alters them and could cause damage if returned to their previous form.”

“Because you need raised letters for Braille,” she added. “Meaning that if you returned the books to their original letters, it may rip the pages.”

“Indeed, and if I rip the pages, there is no guarantee they could return the book to its Braille form,” he answered.

“I see.” She exhaled.

He took a deep breath. “I apologize for dampening your spirit and preventing our research from continuing.”

“That’s fine.” She moved closer. “That means you cannot turn my book into Braille until I finish reading it. If I want to take any notes for future reference, I have to take them now.”

He sighed. “I fear that is the case.”

She was silent. He put a hand on his face. Just when he was beginning to take joy in having a reading companion, it was taken from him. Now, not only would she think he was a dunderhead, but she’d also think he was an incapable research partner. His future as her equal was over before it began.

“I can read aloud what my book says,” she offered.

“Fine, but I need to take notes then,” he replied.

“And you could read aloud what you have to me.”

“I could.”

She drew closer to him. “Why don’t you begin reading to me?”

“Fine.” He placed his finger on the Braille letters and began reading it aloud. “Toad’s tongue has traditionally been used as a way of strengthening one’s magical skills. In Ancient Rome, many wizards put the juice of toad’s tongue on their wands to make their spells more effective.”

“I didn’t know that.” The aroma of her hair became stronger.

“Indeed, when I was eleven, Lily and I would hunt for toads for their tongues to see if we could make our wands more powerful.”

“How successful were you?”

He frowned. “Let’s just say that the Coke River isn’t conducive to any kind of life. All we found were a few dead fish.”

“Oh.”

“That being said, it was nice to have a break from my father for a few hours. The more time I spent away from him, the better.”

“I would imagine.” She shifted until some of her weight was on the armrest of his chair. “People thought I was weird when I came home from Hogwarts and searched the flowers for potions ingredients.”

“You did that as a child?” He raised an eyebrow as he met her eyes.

“I did.” Her voice was whimsical. “I was bored with only watching the telly, so I spent time outside. When I wasn’t reading, I wanted to be productive. What better way to do so than to search for potion ingredients?”

“That is a much more productive way of gathering ingredients than stealing from someone's cabinet and turning yourself into a human/cat hybrid.” His lips curled upwards at the memory of her orange fur and pointed ears. At least there were a few amusing images he could cling to before his sight left him forever.

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” She groaned.

“I’ll let you live it down eventually.” He smirked. “But 'eventually' is not today.”

She huffed. “At least if I turn myself into a hat-cat hybrid now, you’re less likely to notice.”

“That will not be the case at all. I can still feel and smell you.”

“Smell me?”

He nodded.

"How did I smell any different?"

“You had tuna breath as a half-cat. It was quite pungent. Also, if I reached for your cheek, I would feel the fur. My sense of touch is as sharp as ever.”

“Great, you would notice if that were to occur again.”

“I would. At the time the stench of your breath and the fur on your face were only a few passing thoughts, but now,” his smile faded, “it’s what I remember most.”

“It is?”

He nodded. “The less I’m able to see, the blurrier my sighted memories have become. Sounds and smells that were once ignored are more noticeable when I remember certain events. It is an odd phenomenon.” 

“I’d imagine so.”

“Regardless,” he shrugged. “Most of my memories involve sight, though when you have to start taking notice of other sensations, your memories focus upon them as well.”

“That has to feel odd.”

“There are several things that are odd now.” He turned to her and met her eyes, not daring to tell her that no matter how long he lived, he’d never forget the softness and brightness of her caramel eyes. Of all the sights he would miss, he would miss gazing into her eyes the most. If that was the last thing he saw, he would be the happiest blind man who ever lived.

“Anyway…” She squirmed. “Would you like to continue reading?”

“Right.” He kept his eyes on her as he ran his fingers along the page. “In the Middle Ages, toad’s tongues were used to ease the pain from hexes and could reduce convulsions from certain curses, though not ones as strong as a Crucitas. It was also used as a pain reliever for muscle sprains, a use it still has.”

“That’s amazing,” she whispered.

“Yes, toad’s tongue is quite fascinating as a pain reliever for muscle sprains.”

“No, I mean, you don’t even need to look at the book to read.”

“Why would I?” His stomach sank at the thought she didn’t appreciate him staring at her. Merlin, would he never learn an ounce of social grace?

“I never thought of the benefit of reading without looking at the pages," she continued.

“It isn’t much of an advantage if you can’t see anything.” He frowned.

“I know, but…” She looked at the book. “I have a solution to our problem of not being able to share our books.”

“Reading aloud to each other all day long?”

“Yes, we can do that, but I have a better solution, one that won’t wear out our voices.”

He blinked.

“You could teach me Braille.” She clapped.

“You want to learn Braille?”

“Yes.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Think about it: we can research together without ruining your books or reading everything aloud," she answered.

“I suppose my voice can be grating.”

“Oh no, I love your voice.” He could see the blurred red of her blush. “I could listen to you speak all day long.”

His eyebrow was raised higher. "You would be the first person to say that." 

“Other women liked to hear you speak too.”

“They did not enjoy my voice while I was at Hogwarts.”

“Oh no, your voice was popular amongst the Hogwarts students.” Her blush deepened. “We were just afraid to say aloud how much we loved your voice for fear you’d think we were dunderheads.”

“I would not think such terrible things about you. Certain other girls, yes, I suppose I would. Still, I would never call you a dunderhead.”

“Perhaps now you would not have, but when I was a fifth-year, I doubt you would have appreciated hearing Lavender and me bonding over how we loved it when you lectured because your voice drove us wild. You would not have appreciated my affections as much as you do now.”

“You bonded with Lavender over my voice?”

“It’s one of the few times we agreed on anything. Your voice is the most pleasant sound I’ve ever heard. I loved hearing you speak then, and I love it even more now.”

Severus shouldn’t feel this heat radiating through his body; he truly shouldn’t. Yet part of him wondered how she would react to him purring in just the right way. Could he persuade her into allowing him to hold her, whisper words of affection in her ear, feel her body against his, and take things as far as she wanted to go if he purred in her ear as he did in his dreams?

“Anyway,” her voice was softer. “As much as I love hearing you speak, I’d rather speak with you, not listen to you read and interrupt whenever I have an idea.”

His mind returned to the present. “That may be advisable, if only so we feel as if the other has concluded their thought.”

“So,” she put her head on the armrest. “Could you please teach me how to read in Braille?”

“Do you want to do it now?”

“I want to do it whenever it is convenient for you.”

“Allow me to finish this passage; you may read your passage, and we will discuss them. Then, if you are still interested in Braille, I can begin to teach it to you.”

“That sounds reasonable,” she answered.

Severus continued running his finger along the page and reading the words aloud, taking note of how her eyes followed it. The fascination in her eyes must be due to the Braille or the use of toad's tongues in the 1700s. It could not be because she wanted him to touch her. No, he wasn’t arrogant enough to think a woman like her would want him to hold her close, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and demonstrate what he could do with his voice. Then again, if she asked, he was more than willing to make her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

“I had no idea Toad’s Tongue could strengthen the efficacy of certain potions,” she interrupted.

“Indeed, they fell out of favor because they worked too well.”

“I can envision that. Some potions are already too strong.”

“Yes, but if we want our potion to be strong, we may need something as strong as a toad’s tongue.”

“Agreed.”

He cleared his throat and continued reading aloud, enjoying her interjections. Every once in a while, he’d sneak what little peek he could of her eyes. Her eyes never left his finger. Never before had someone been so intrigued by Braille.

Perhaps he was not without a reading companion after all.

Chapter Text

It had been several blessed years since Severus had set foot inside a classroom. He reveled in the freedom his apothecary brought and the ability to research as he pleased. Most of all, he was happy never to teach people who had no interest in learning. If he saw one more disengaged, glazed expression, he would be a content man indeed.

Hermione was unlike any student he'd ever had. She was eager to learn everything she could about Braille, much more eager than anyone had ever been about potions. Was his joy in teaching her because she was eager to learn new things, or was it because he was more patient with her than he had been with anyone else? Did he want to teach her a new skill for the sake of education, or did he want her to share in his life more completely than anyone else ever had?

Was she just intellectually curious, or did she want to share her life with him?

“We’ll start with the simplest letters to learn,” Severus began as Hermione handed him How to Learn Braille. “Those would be the letters a through j.”

“Okay.” She was close enough to where he could see the gleam in her caramel eyes. It melted the heart that he swore teaching had frozen forever.

“Now, there are six dot spots, which can be used as a Braille letter.” He opened to the correct page in his book. “Obviously, not all six dots are used for each letter. Still, it’s important to remember the placement of the dots when reading.”

She nodded as if this was the most important lesson in the world.

“A is the easiest letter to learn since it’s dot one.” He pointed to the Braille A. “It’s only a single dot in the top left position of the Braille slot.”

“I see.”

“The letter B is dots one and two.” He pointed to the B. “And C is dots one and four.”

“So is dot 3 below dot 2?” She asked.

“Yes. We’ll get to dot 3 in a minute,” he replied. “That comes towards the later letters.”

“Oh.” He felt her finger put pressure onto the page as she pointed to a dot before the word. “Why is there a dot before that letter?”

“You use dot 6 to capitalize letters.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I did not either until I began learning Braille," he admitted.

“Was learning Braille difficult for you?” She moved closer to him.

“No more difficult than learning a potions formula. Granted, I’m still mastering numbers, but it is getting easier.”

“Numbers?” Hermione removed her finger from the page.

“Indeed, there are Braille numbers. I also struggle with some of the punctuation.”

"You mean it isn't just raised punctuation like sentence dots?"

"No."

"Oh," she breathed. “Braille is much more complex than I thought it would be.

“It can be quite complex. Yet, if one puts their mind to it, they can learn it.”

She paused. “With a little help, I’m sure I could master this.”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?” He frowned.

“Why wouldn’t I want it?”

“To begin with, you aren’t blind. You can use books as they are printed. We could always buy two copies of books. There’s no reason to learn Braille.”

“I don't want to read Braille for myself, but because I want to read with you. If we’re constantly reading passages out loud to each other or waiting for a second copy of a book to come in, then it will slow down our progress. I want to read as you do, which means that I need to learn Braille.”

“Is that your only reason?”

“No,” her voice softened. “I’ve always wanted to spend an entire afternoon reading with someone. Nobody has ever wanted to do that with me until now. I can’t read on an equal level with you until I learn Braille, though. Thus, I want, no, need, to learn it.”

“Will you still care about Braille once you reunite with Mr. Weasley?”

She was silent.

“Hermione.” He took a deep breath. “You don’t need to pretend that what we have is real. We both know that the second you’re cured, you’ll be back in Ron’s arms. You’ll be an honorary Weasley once more. It will be as if you’d never left. Within a month or so, you’ll forget all about your blind next-door neighbor, assuming you have not moved away from me into Ron's house. Once that occurs, there's no reason to learn a single Braille letter.”

“Who said I’m returning to the Weasleys?”

“You did. Everything we're doing is so that you can reunite with Ron as someone with magic. That's been made clear to me on more occasions than I want to dwell upon."

“What if I’m reconsidering my reunion with Ron?”

“You are?” His heart fluttered.

"I don’t think being a Weasley is what I need anymore." Her voice was soft. "In many ways, the Weasleys and I have grown too far apart to be healthy for each other.”

“You have?”

“Yes,” her voice was stronger. “When you spend more time feeling lonely in someone’s house than you do speaking with them, then it is a sign that your relationship with them is coming to its natural conclusion. I just didn't want to admit that to myself, not until now.”

“And you think things are over between you and the Weasleys, or are you just saying that to comfort yourself if a cure is never found?”

“We've been growing apart for years, even if I refused to admit it. I wanted things to be perfect so badly that I started ignoring reality. I ignored the fact that it was getting more difficult to find subjects to talk about, that I spent more time staring into space than socializing, and that I wasn't laughing at their jokes anymore. Then there was Ron...” She let out a sad laugh. “Last night, I went to bed happy that someone wasn’t begging me for sex. I don’t need to sleep with anyone to get them to shut up. It's liberating.”

“Ron begged you for sex?"

“All the time. Half the time, we only had sex because I wanted him to stop whining about not having it.”

Severus’ frown deepened. “You do understand that what he did was coercion?”

“No, I mean we ultimately both wanted it. I mean, that’s partly why we fought: for the great makeup sex.”

“Arguing until your throats hurt is a high price to pay for good sex.”

"I know. Now, I want more."

“What do you mean by wanting more?”

Her face went pale as she backed away from him, leaving him unable to decipher her expression in the blur that was her face. “I mean, you know, like those romantic novels and movies. The relationships in them all are much more than sex. Do you know what I mean?”

"I fear I don't," he admitted. "I’ve always thought sex was just sex. You have sex to scratch an urge. When it’s done, you walk away. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

"When you put it that way, making love sounds so crude," her voice cracked. "Perhaps I'm too idealistic. Sometimes sex is just sex. I was expected to have sex, so I had sex. It was part of our pattern of making up and breaking up, so why do anything else?”

“Because you want more.”

“Oh God, do I want more than just sex to shut someone up or just as a means of making up?” She breathed.

“Then why don’t you find someone who will make it more?” He leaned closer to her.

"Where could I find him?"

"He may be closer than you think."

She remained quiet and still.

“Hermione?”

“Let’s get back to Braille,” she replied. “I think we should just get back to Braille and forget about this conversation.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” His stomach twisted.

“No, no,” she let out a nervous chuckle. “I just, uh, you know, I read a book about sex being more than fucking a few years ago, and it all sounded lovely. I didn’t realize sex could be more until I read it.”

“What would more look like to you?”

“Learning Braille.” She leaned closer to him. “Learning Braille is more than I ever thought I’d do, and more than I thought sex would be.”

“It is?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I mean, well, let’s get back to Braille.”

He gave her a blank expression before deciding not to say anything. He was lucky she wasn’t running away from him in terror. Best to follow her lead and pretend this conversation wasn’t happening.

“So.” He cleared his throat and found the place in his book. “So ‘d’ is the first letter involving three dots. It is dots 1, 4, and 5. Next is 'e,' which is important to learn since it is the most common letter in the English language. It is dots 1 and 5. For some reason, I had difficulty learning it, though I have memorized it since.”

“I want to be seduced in a library.”

Severus grew silent and gazed into her eyes as best he could.

“I want a man who will help me cook dinner and compliment me on the food we’ve made together. I know I’m not a perfect cook. I’ll never be Molly, nor will I ever try to be. I make edible food, not gourmet food. Still, a little appreciation for me as I am would be nice." She was close enough to where he could see the sincerity in her eyes. 

His mind wandered back to them cooking together and the memory of how their stir-fried beef tasted. He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but he preferred Hermione’s cooking to Molly’s. Something about the muggle way of cooking changed the taste just enough to where he enjoyed food more.

“Then, I want him to take me into his library and just listen to the theories I’ve created.” She smiled. “He can interject his own thoughts. In fact, I want him to speak his mind. I want a conversation with him, not someone dumbly nodding at me because he thinks that will get me into bed faster. The longer the evening goes on, the more I want him to speak in a voice he knows drives me wild. Then, I want that magical moment when our eyes meet.”

Severus kept his gaze on her.

“I want him to tell me how much I mean to him, how I’m the most special woman in his life, how he cannot imagine life without me, and how he loves me more than he’s loved another woman. I don’t want him to just say the words, though. He needs to mean them. I want him to show me how much he cares for me every minute of every day. I want to feel valued every time I’m in his presence. He doesn’t need to be with me all the time, but I need to be confident that he cares for me even if we’re kilometers apart. Everything he says and does needs to lead up to the moment he takes me into his arms and kisses me until we run out of air. I want sleeping in his arms to be the climax of our day, not something he does because he thinks that will lead to sex with him the next night.”

“That sounds like a lovely fantasy,” his voice was husky. “For most people that is all it is though, a fantasy.”

“What about you?” She breathed. “What is your ideal seduction?”

“I don’t have one now that I’m blind.”

“Oh surely you have some idea of what you want from a woman. Sighted or not, you must still have some sort of sex drive.”

“Oh, I have one,” he whispered as desire flooded his body. “But it has changed over the last few years.”

“How?”

“I want to smell a woman.” He inhaled her lilac perfume, relaxing his body. “I want her to wear a perfume she knows drives me wild, one she only puts on for me. I want her to allow me to get close enough to smell the aroma of her shampoo. Her shampoo needs to be something she knows drives me wild, something that makes her feel confident. That confidence will be in her voice, something I want to hear every day. Then, I want her to let me run my fingers through her hair.” His mind flashed to the sensation of Hermione’s soft hair between his fingers. “Her soft hair would drive me wild beyond any reason I may possess.”

She hummed.

“Then I want her to speak to me in the way only she speaks to me, a low, sweet, raspy purr. I want her to use a voice she has never used for another man, one that lets me know I will always be cared for.”

“Do you want her to speak to you like this?”

“Oh gods yes,” he purred as his pants grew even tighter.

“Severus.” She stepped towards him. “What else do you want?”

“Then,” he relaxed. “I want to know that she’ll never abandon me. I want her to know that I will always do my best to treat her well. I will make mistakes. That is inevitable. If she could be patient with me, though, and not give up on the kind of man I want to be for her, then I will let her into my life. I will give her my entire being if I know she will cherish me as much as I cherish her.”

“And do you know anyone who would be that for you?” Hermione's caramel eyes glistened.

“If I do, I’ll let you know who she is.”

“How will you do that?” She gazed into his eyes.

“I will kiss her like this.” He captured her lips, knowing that for the first time, he was kissing the woman he’d cared for more than he thought it was possible to care for any person.

Chapter Text

Severus had never kissed a woman as if he wanted to give her his entire soul. Unlike all of his other kisses, he was not being used, trying to gain compliance to fulfill an urge, or putting on a show for The Daily Prophet. Rather, he wanted Hermione to know he cared for her more than he cared for any other woman, would remain by her side for as long as she desired him to be in her life, and wanted nothing more than to make her happy. His only hope was that Hermione’s kiss promised the same things.

Her lips were soft, softer than that of any other woman. The aroma of strawberry vanilla lotion on her skin was more intoxicating than any potion he’d ever brewed. Nothing was more desirable than her at that moment. If only he had the courage to carry her to his bedroom and let his body tell her the things he dared not speak aloud.

It was then that his heart stopped, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

He broke away, keeping his eyes on her. Hermione’s caramel eyes were wide, as if she was wrapping her mind around what had just occurred. They stared at each other, their breaths deep, daring the other to shatter the sacred moment with an ill-advised word.

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “We should, uh, continue our Braille lesson.” He returned his attention to the book, cringing that he just said "uh" like an inarticulate dunderhead. “So anyway, in order to create an f…”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Severus kept his finger over the letters and looked in her direction.

“You just gave me the best kiss of my life, and you want to return to reading as if nothing occurred?” Her voice betrayed her hurt.

“I thought you would appreciate continuing our lesson.” He knew he sounded pathetic and weak. Still, his mind was swimming, his body screaming at him to recapture her lips.

Her voice was tight. “I would appreciate having a conversation about our kiss."

“We can have that conversation after we learn more about Braille.” His body was swelling with desire, the yearning to be in her arms once more. Still, romantic relationships ruined perfectly wonderful friendships. It was best to forget anything had occurred, lest things become too awkward. “As I was saying about creating an F…”

“So it meant nothing to you,” her voice cracked.

He met her eyes. His stomach sank at the tears forming within them.

“Do you care about me, or did you just want to kiss me because I was a warm body who was giving you attention?”

“How could you ever accuse me of using you in such a way?” His throat tightened. “Do you not know me at all?”

“I do, or I think I do.” She gulped. “I think you care for me the way I've always wanted a man to care for me.”

“Of course I care for you.” He slammed the book shut. “I've always cared about you, and I always will care for you. I care for you with every fiber of my being, every beat of my cold heart, every pat of my soul.”

“Then why are you acting like you’re using me?”

“Using you?”

She nodded. “You just kissed me, and then you acted like it never happened. It’s as if a book is more interesting and important than me.”

“You know a book isn’t more important than you.”

“Do I?” She squeaked.

His voice was softer as he saw the brokenness in her eyes. “You don’t know that, do you? You think that your happiness will always be secondary to my feelings.”

"Isn't that the way wizards operate? Isn't a witch's wants and needs secondary to his own?" A tear fell from her eye.

His voice was soft. “Is that what men have done to you, just kissed you and walked away? Did they only kiss you in the name of gaining your compliance? Do you feel as if everyone you’ve ever kissed has used you in some way?”

She nodded.

He sighed.

“It's all so stupid, really. Sometimes the kisses improved the longer I dated a man, but the first time I kissed each of my lovers was horrendous. Granted, you are an exception. Technically, our first kiss was when we knew Ron would walk in on us. Still, it was passionate and what I’d always wanted, but it was for show. I knew you were only kissing me to help me, so it was fine with it meaning nothing to you. Yet that, you weren't trying to get something from me, were you?”

"No," he whispered.

She took a shaky breath.

“What have your other experiences with kisses been?” He asked.

“There was Viktor, which was just awkward. We read afterwards and forgot any of it happened. I understand, though. He was nervous, and I didn’t want things to be awkward, so we just kept reading as if nothing happened. There was a Muggle boy I’d had a crush on for years. Over the summer between my fifth and sixth year, we made out. Then, he received twenty pounds for winning a bet that he could kiss the freakish bookworm a few houses down. I was happy I found out the week before I returned to Hogwarts so I didn't have to deal with the fallout.”

Severus shook his head.

“You must think I’m pathetic now,” her voice cracked. "The only first kiss I've had that meant anything to me was you, and it wasn't even real."

“You are no more pathetic than I am.”

She leaned closer.

“My first kiss was with Dorcas Meadows. At first, I thought she would be the friend to me that Lily was not. It turned out she’d lost a bet with Sirius, so she was forced to kiss me. It got all over the school how much she’d gagged when I left the room and never wanted to kiss someone with such greasy hair again.”

“Arse.”

“I suppose so. Then again, I may have deserved it for being a Death Eater in training.”

“You didn’t deserve that. You deserved a much more pleasant first kiss than that.”

“So you say.”

“I do.”

He looked into her eyes, which were a torrent of emotions. “Did you feel like Ron used you when he kissed you?”

“Not always, but he would sometimes kiss me to shut me up, then go right back to listening to his Quidditch game or complaining about work, or whatever else he was doing before I started talking,” she replied.

“So men have used you for most of your life and used kissing you as a way to control you.”

“I guess you could say that.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m mucking this up, aren’t I?”

“I mean,” she choked. “No more than I am.”

“No, I’m ruining this. Just,” he inhaled. “What do you want?”

“I want to feel like you value me.”

“I want you to feel as if you are the most valuable woman in the world.” He met her eyes. “But I don’t know the first thing about a healthy relationship that involves physical contact. I don’t know what it’s like to be in a fake relationship, how to handle a woman kissing you when there is no ulterior motive, or how to discuss my feelings like a normal human being. All I know is I can’t lose you, not now.” His last words were a whisper. “That scares me more than you’ll ever know.”

“Why?” She shook.

“Because you’re one of the only real friends I’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you. Still, I know I’ll muck this all up.” He breathed the last words, “Like I’m doing right now.”

“No, you aren’t mucking this up; I am.” She exhaled. “I got caught up in the moment and crossed a boundary I should not have.”

“You make it sound like I was an unwilling participant in our kiss when I was anything but that.”

“I know, but there were supposed to be boundaries.”

“So, do you regret the kiss?”

She cast her eyes downwards. “No.”

He raised her chin and drew close enough to where he could look in her eyes. “I don’t either.”

She swallowed.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel as if I’m asking things of you when I’m not. I just want a friend. If that involves a few kisses.” His lips curled upwards. “I am amenable to that.”

“I've never kissed my friends before, at least not without it becoming dysfunctional."

He released her chin. “There is a first time for everything.”

“I suppose so.” She gave him one of her beautiful smiles.

“There,” he exhaled. “There’s that smile I’ve come to cherish.”

“You cherish it?”

He nodded. “People don’t smile around me, not the way you do. Their eyes don’t glisten when I enter a room. Nobody has ever looked at me like I’ve mattered. It’s something I’ve come to cherish.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, there was a pounding on the door.

“Snape! Oh Snape!”

Severus scowled as his muscles tightened. “What the hell does this dunderhead want?”

“Snape, open up so we can talk!”

“I don’t know.” Hermione stood. “But if you’d like, I can speak to him with you.”

“That may be advisable.” He stood. “It is never wise to deal with George alone.”

“Agreed.” She linked arms with him and began leading him to the front door.

Everything about Hermione’s touch and aroma relaxed Severus. Although his mind was focused upon dealing with Mr. Weasley, his body was focused on how to express how much that kiss meant to him. He was shite at words, but if he could kiss her again, perhaps he could undo the damage from his earlier stumblings. Perhaps another kiss would make her see that she was the most important person in his life, someone he cherished more than he had any other woman.

Hermione adjusted her arm until she was holding Severus’ hand. “It will look more convincing if we do this.”

“Agreed.” He allowed her to help him move a few steps forward.

The door flung open. “What do you want, George?”

“Hermione,” the shock was evident in his voice. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why would I not be here?” She squeezed Severus’ hand tighter. “I’m Severus’ partner. We enjoy doing things together.”

He didn’t know why her words brought him such warmth or made him grin, but they did.

“Well, I need to speak to Severus.” George paused. “Alone.”

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Hermione,” Severus snapped.

“With all due respect, this is about business.”

“And Hermione is helping me with my business.”

“How?” George drawled.

“We are working on a few projects together,” Severus answered. “So far, we are making great progress, though only time will tell if our endeavors bear fruit.”

“I am sure whatever happens, we will find a way to thrive.” She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Merlin, Hermione, you didn’t even touch or talk to Ron like this," George noted.

“Ron didn’t want to be touched or talked to like this.” There was an edge to her voice. "At least not when he had nothing to gain from it."

“He didn't appreciate you acting like you're madly in love with him?"

“No, not unless he was trying to put on a show that he was the perfect boyfriend and I was his loving partner.”

“Fine.” George paused. “I still need you to let Severus and me speak to each other alone.”

“You will leave before she does.” Severus tensed. "Anything you say to me can and will be said in front of her."

“Fine.” George took a deep breath.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hermione’s voice was low.

"Like what?"

"Like that."

“I'm just looking at you the way I would anyone else," George answered.

“No, you're looking at me like I'm a pathetic person," she snapped.

“I just hope you know what he’s capable of.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, we both know he works in potions…"

Her voice was louder. “So help me if you’re going to accuse Severus of a crime we both know he didn’t commit.”

“No, he clearly didn’t do anything to you," George admitted.

“No, he didn’t poison me, nor would he ever do so."

“Are we done here?” Severus demanded. “Hermione and I were busy before we were so rudely interrupted. We’d love to continue what we were doing.”

“No, I need to ask you if you will brew a few orders of aging potions," George replied.

“Why?” Severus quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve never needed those from me before.”

“Yes, but there are some pranks I would like to perform, ones that involve an aging potion.”

“Like what?” Hermione asked.

“Perhaps if you'd stop snogging him and remember who your real family is, you'd find out," George replied.

"Severus is part of my family."

"Does he make you happy?"

“Infinitely so," she answered with confidence.

“You are happier with Snape than us?” George's confusion was evident.

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“Are we finished here?” Hermione took a step back. “Because I’d love to continue on with the rest of my day.”

“No, I need that potion now," George argued.

“I do not think it is advisable for me to brew anything for you,” Severus argued. "Not when your brother and I have such differing opinions on what Hermione deserves in life."

"And what do you think Hermione deserves in life?"

"Only the very best that I can give her."

“I can help you give her the best by giving you good money for my potions.” He held out a bag.

Severus took the coins, feeling their weight. Still, there was another sensation, one that he couldn’t put a finger upon. The magic was off, but why?

“Could I see that?” Hermione asked.

He held it in front of her. She took it from him.

“What are you doing?” George demanded.

“Making sure you aren’t screwing him over.”

“Why do you need to look in the bag? Can’t he count the coins himself?”

“He could, but I’m afraid he doesn’t know about Muggle technology like this.”

Severus looked in the direction of where he believed Hermione’s hand was.

“That,” George stammered. “Oh, that. Uh, how did it get in there?”

The sound of coins hitting the pavement filled the air. Then, there was a crunch.

“Take your bug and your money somewhere else,” Hermione demanded. “Leave us alone.”

“Hermione, wait, I just…”

“Goodbye, George.” Severus stepped backward, Hermione beside him.

“Wait!”

Hermione slammed the door in his face. In a low voice she began, “I had no idea he was such a wanker.”

“Indeed.” Severus straightened his posture, ignoring George’s pounding on the door and his pleas for them to open it. “How did you know he had bugged the coins?”

“I saw the look in your eyes when you took the bag. It was clear something was off, but you couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“The magic felt strange,” Severus answered. “There was something in there that wasn’t magical. The coins felt as if they could have a tracking spell, though without casting a spell, I wouldn't know.”

“So that’s why George didn't want me around,” she mused aloud. "He knew I would know what that technology was."

“Indeed, but I couldn’t have known what exactly was nonmagical in the bag, not without rummaging through the coin purse and dropping everything.”

“It was easier to spot than guess.”

“For a brilliant witch like you,” his lips curled upwards, “yes.”

A comfortable silence fell between them.

“If you want to know why I behaved as I did after our kiss,” Severus began. “It’s because we make a brilliant team. I know my actions earlier jeopardized our relationship, but I was afraid if we were too intimate with each other, physically or emotionally, we would lose our friendship.”

“I fear that too,” her voice was soft. “I don’t want one kiss to ruin what we have.”

“That kiss won’t change my feelings for you,” he answered. “I want you by my side as my friend forever.”

She drew closer until he could see the sincerity in her eyes. “I feel the same way.”

“If a few kisses occur,” he leaned down. “We are only human. It is fine for us to indulge in each other's desires from time to time.”

“Right,” she blushed. “We’re adults. We can handle a friendship with kissing. There’s no issue at all to enjoying the benefits of our fake relationship.”

“No issue whatsoever.” He captured her lips once more, ignoring the feeling in his heart, body, and soul that he wanted much more than a friendship with an occasional kiss.

He wanted to give her all of him in every way that mattered. That should have terrified him. Yet in the safety of her arms, the idea that he could be hers forever was the deepest comfort he'd ever found.

Chapter Text

“Severus didn’t look inside the bag?” Harry’s eyes grew as he leaned back into his sofa.

“No,” George replied. “Snape stared downwards, but his eyes weren't focused on the bag. he only focused on Hermione when she took the bag. Once she found the bug, she stomped on it.”

“She didn’t blast it with her wand?”

“No, she stomped on it like a Muggle would."

“And Snape didn’t destroy it himself?”

“He didn’t even try. It was as if he had no idea the device was there.”

“That isn’t like Professor Snape.” Luna blinked. “He would’ve taken the coin purse and looked inside of it himself. Hermione would’ve never had a chance to destroy the bug because he would have found it first. It's doubtful he would've let her take the bag either, not when the money was for him.”

“He trusted in Hermione not to steal the money from him,” George stopped.

“Why shouldn’t he trust Hermione? She would never steal anything from him. Everyone knows that.” Harry cocked his head.

“No, she is no thief.” George scratched his chin. “But Severus is one of the most paranoid people I've met. He doesn't just allow people to grab things from him, not without a sharp comment and a hex.”

“But now he has total trust in Hermione, enough to let her take a bag from him.”

“Yes, almost as if he was the one poisoned by a love potion.”

Luna hummed. “Hermione would never poison someone.”

"No, she would never violate someone's consent," George replied. "She's too much of a rule follower for that."

“Agreed."

“Still, you’re right; they are hiding something. Something is bringing them together, some secret only they know, something they have vowed to keep secret from the rest of the world, something they’d die to protect.”

“They’re like each other’s guard dog,” Harry mused aloud.

“Exactly. They will defend each other to the death, and they both know it.”

“Could it just be because they love and trust each other?” Luna asked.

Everyone turned to her.

“When two people truly love each other, they tend to trust each other,” Luna continued. “They will defend each other’s secrets because they only want what’s best for each other. Isn’t that what love is about?”

George scoffed. “This is Severus Snape. He isn’t capable of love.”

“That isn't true. He loved Lily.”

“No, he lusted after Lily. All he wanted to do was get into her pants. Once he couldn’t do that, he made his entire life about serving an over-idealized version of her memory.”

Luna opened her mouth.

“And now he’s saying Hermione is better than she ever was.” Harry frowned. “He's made it very clear that he’s moved on from my mum. For whatever reason, he is obsessed with Hermione now.”

“And she’s just as obsessed with him,” George replied.

Harry put his head in his hands before running his fingers through his hair. “None of this makes sense. Severus loved my mother. He was willing to do anything in the service of her memory. Now, he wants to sleep with Hermione, like having sex with her is the only thing that matters."

“Are you sure they’re sleeping together?” Luna asked.

“Trust me.” George furrowed his eyebrows. “If they are this protective of each other, they are sleeping together.”

Luna bit back her skeptical remarks.

“We need to investigate them,” George argued.

“Investigate them?” Harry’s eyes grew wide.

“Yes.”

“Y-you don’t think one of them has broken the law, do you?”

“We can’t rule anything out,” George argued. “Whatever they are hiding is big, probably illegal.”

“Illegal?” Harry's stomach sank.

“Yes, this is something they will do anything to hide. Whatever it is, they don’t want this coming out.”

“Perhaps we should allow them to live their lives.” Luna winced as she felt the baby kick her bladder. “Hermione will tell us what is wrong with her when she is ready. If we push her, she may withdraw from us and cling to Severus even more.”

“What about Snape?” George asked. “What if his secret hurts someone?”

“Do you think Hermione would allow him to harm anyone?”

“I don’t know anymore.” George threw up his hands. “We all thought we knew Hermione, but now she’s obsessed with Snape and keeping this secret. I mean, she thinks we’re stuck up because we won’t kiss her parents’ asses, yet Snape won’t even look at me. She thinks he can do no wrong when all he does is screw everything up.”

“Snape always did think he was better than everyone else.” Harry’s frown deepened. “That’s why he won’t so much as look at anyone anymore. He's too arrogant to do so.”

“Perhaps Severus will start looking at people when he’s treated with respect," Luna cut in.

“We tried respecting him. Now, he won’t look at us.”

“Perhaps if he had a true friend, he’d let his guard down.”

“And Hermione is his true friend?”

“Yes, that's why he trusts her. She's the truest friend he's ever had, and he knows it."

“Would he trust her even if his secret was hurting others?” George asked.

Luna closed her mouth.

“George is right.” Harry sat up straighter. “Snape needs to be stopped before he hurts anyone.”

“Stopped from doing what?” Luna threw up her hands. “So far all he’s done is kiss Hermione and spend time with her. That isn’t illegal or harming anyone.”

“Perhaps he and Hermione don’t believe that their secret will harm anyone, but it could come back to harm both of them unless we stop them,” Harry answered.

“Or us,” George replied. “It could harm all of us.”

“I really think we should leave them alone until they are ready to tell us what is happening,” Luna suggested. “Then, we’ll be able to build a stable relationship with both of them.”

“No, Snape has done enough damage to Hermione and our family,” Harry’s voice was firm. “And Hermione is a part of our family. All of this has to stop.”

“Agreed,” George replied. “Hermione is like a sister to me. This all stops now.”

Luna exhaled.

“I know you want to give Snape a chance. I love that you're so willing to give people second chances,” Harry replied. “Still, he is the same man who tormented us when we were teens and who has the sharpest tongue in all of Britain. While he did repent of his Death Eater ways, he was still Voldemort’s second in command. We don’t know what he’s capable of. Hermione doesn't either.”

“I thought you resolved your issues with Snape.”

“I did, until he decided to tear our family apart by kissing Hermione and abandoning my mother's memory.”

“Hermione was a willing participant in the kiss.”

“Yes, but something is wrong with her. She wouldn’t be doing this unless something was seriously wrong. I need to know what it is, if only so I can help her.”

“And I need to know what’s happening so Ron will stop whining about needing someone to clean his house and do his laundry.” George rolled his eyes. “If I hear one more complaint that his house is too dirty or his bed is too cold, I’m going to scream.”

“Has he ever considered learning some cleaning spells and buying a heated blanket?” Luna asked. “Those would be easier than chasing after a woman who has clearly moved on.”

“There’s an idea.” George tapped his foot.

“It’s one he should try.”

“Yes, but Ron and Hermione were made for each other. That’s why they always reconciled after fighting. They were soulmates.”

Luna bit her tongue again.

“I’ll begin investigating Snape in my spare time.” Harry stood. “Somehow, some way, we are going to get Hermione back where she belongs. Once his secret is out, Hermione will be free of him.”

“What if Hermione has a secret too and she needs Snape to help her with it?” Luna asked.

“Then we’ll step in and help her as well,” Harry answered. “When all is said and done, she’ll realize how wrong she was to walk away from all of us.”

“Agreed.” George grinned. “We’ll have Hermione back where she belongs soon enough.”

“Yes.” Harry’s smile matched that of George.

Luna shook her head, afraid to tell them that Hermione was already where she needed to be.

***

Sometimes Severus wished Hermione would open her window, just so he could hear her scold Crookshanks or sing along to her radio. He wouldn’t spy upon her, but it would give him some comfort to know that she was happy. If he was lucky, she may even tell Crookshanks that she was growing a deeper affection for her next-door neighbor, even if he could be a git at times.

Tonight he had a more vivid fantasy, one in which he was in bed beside her reading, his finger running along the page, only half taking in the words. Most of his attention would be on her aroma, the soft breaths she took, and the hums she made when intrigued by a new idea.

For the first time, it wasn’t enough for him to be across a yard from her. He wanted, no needed, to be there with her, sharing the sacred silence until they filled it with the sounds of their lovemaking.

He huffed before expelling the fantasy from his mind. No, they wouldn’t make love. Severus had proven himself incapable of love on numerous occasions. Hermione and he may sleep together, she may stay with him until the morning, and she may want to sleep with him every night, but they would not make love because all he did was ruin the people and things he loved. The last thing he ever wanted was to destroy her.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want her near him, though, sharing the future they were building together through Braille and muggle devices.

***

Hermione wondered if Severus sensed that she could see him across the yard. She didn’t mean to spy on him, but she took comfort in knowing he was nearby. At times, she caught him reading in bed, his finger running along the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration, his glares at Crookshanks when the feline became too needy in his bed, and the spark in his eyes when he ran across a particularly intriguing passage.

Tonight she had a more vivid fantasy, one where she was in bed beside him, reading, her finger running along the page, trying her best to decipher Braille so they could fully share their lives together, only taking in half the words she read. Most of her attention would be on the aroma of his cologne, the way his eyes glistened in interest at the latest passage he’d read, the softness of his skin, and the way he shifted when he wanted to be close to her.

For the first time, it wasn’t enough to be across a yard from him. She wanted, no, needed, to be there with him, sharing the sacred silence until they filled it with the sounds of their lovemaking.

She sighed before expelling the fantasy from her mind. No, they wouldn’t be making love. Her relationship with Severus was complex, somewhere between a facade and a rebound from Ron. It was a nice place to build a strong friendship, but there was no place for love. They may spend time with each other, read beside a fireplace together, laugh together, and work together to navigate the world. Still, they were not in love. If they ever slept together, it would only be fantastic sex, not true lovemaking. The last thing she ever wanted was to ruin the deepest friendship she had because she was inept at love.

That didn’t mean she didn’t want him near, though, sharing the future they were building together through Braille and muggle devices.

Chapter Text

“What do you want to do?” Wilford’s eyes were wide.

“I want to learn how to drive.” Hermione’s voice was firm as she brushed a clod of soot from her face.

“You want to learn how to drive?” Wilford raised an eyebrow in a manner like Severus.

“Yes.” She straightened her shoulders after dusting the last of the soot from them. “I want to learn how to drive.”

“Okay,” Wilford drawled. “You didn’t mention wanting to learn how to drive when we saw you three weeks ago.”

“I know."

"What changed?"

"After our last visit, Severus and I continued discussing ways to reclaim our Muggle heritage. I realized I wasn't satisfied with appliances. Those were nice, but there is far more to being a Muggle than using certain appliances. It was then that I decided I needed to learn how to drive.”

"How soon do you want to learn how to drive?"

"Right now would be nice."

"Right now?" Wilford's eyebrow was raised higher.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "The sooner I learn how to drive, the better."

“Why do you need to learn how to drive right now?” Muriel strolled into the sitting room, taking note that she’d need to vacuum the soot Hermione and Severus had dragged in from the fireplace. "There will be plenty of time to get in touch with your childhood. Surely driving can wait a few weeks."

"Actually, it cannot."

"Why?"

“It’s a complicated story.” Hermione took a deep breath. “But the short answer is that we need a potion ingredient that can’t be transported magically and can only be obtained from non-magical people.”

Wilford turned to Severus. “What do you need it for?”

“We are trying to create a potion that could heal people who were harmed by the war,” Severus answered.

“How would it do that?"

“We believe this potion could reduce the amount of dark magic in a person’s magical core. If that occurs, our patients won’t feel the pain and other side effects of the dark spells cast during the war.”

“People are still feeling the effects of the war?” Muriel’s eyes softened.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Severus shook his head.

Wilford frowned. “Just when I thought the Wizarding World couldn’t be any worse, I find out the effects of this war still aren't done.”

“The Wizarding World isn’t terrible,” Hermione argued.

"What's so wonderful about it?"

"First, there was Hogwarts..."

“Oh yes, Hogwarts, a school where they forced you to be a child soldier,” Wilford snapped. “They told me you would be in a place where you belonged, where you could be with people similar to yourself, where you would be accepted and protected because of your magic. Only it turns out that was a lie because people didn't accept you because of your birth. Now I’m finding out that people are still affected by the curses all of you throw at each other. Forgive me if I’m not jumping in joy at the thought of my daughter continuing to live in such a world.”

Hermione opened her mouth.

“You may be as upset as you’d like when all of this has concluded.” Severus raised his hand. “Still, there is more to the Wizarding World than what you’ve experienced.”

“I guess there’s you.” Wilford’s expression softened. “You’ve been good to us and more importantly, our daughter. From that perspective, I can’t hate the Wizarding World too much, not if it produced you.”

“I will always treat your daughter as well as I can. No matter which world we live in, I will ensure that she knows she will always be desirable to me.”

“I know you will.” Wilford relaxed.

“I will also help her achieve her dreams, including her dream to get in touch with her Muggle side. For that reason and in order to obtain our potion ingredient, Hermione needs to learn how to drive," Severus continued.

“What is this ingredient?”

“Thoroughbred blood.”

“How soon do you need this thoroughbred blood?” Muriel asked.

“As soon as possible.”

Wilford and Muriel glanced at each other.

“I know it could take a few weeks to learn how to drive…” Hermione fidgeted with her hand.

“It could take months, if not a few years.” Muriel’s eyes softened.

“Years?” Hermione choked.

“Yes, you have to have a learner’s permit and then log in several hours of driving.”

“I thought you didn’t need to log in hours if you are over twenty-five.”

“Legally you would not need to log in the hours, but we want you to be a safe driver. Thus, we would require you to practice for several hours before allowing you to take the test.”

“Yes,” Wilford cut in. “We want you and everyone else to be safe on the road. I’m not comfortable with you getting a license the day after you get your learner’s permit.”

“Driving is a skill that takes practice,” Muriel added. “In that way, it’s like the spells you cast. If you don’t know what you’re doing when driving, then you could kill someone or yourself.”

“We don’t want anyone hurt,” Wilford added. “I am fine with you taking the test to get a permit, but I’m not fine with handing you a car after one day of driving and hoping you don’t crash it.”

Hermione’s lip quivered as her eyes moistened.

“Is there a reason you need it so soon?” Wilford asked. "I know you want to rectify the damage from the war, but is someone going to die without this?"

“No,” she choked. “I just need that blood as soon as possible.”

“Why, what’s the hurry?” Wilford’s stomach churned. “Were you hit by a dark curse and need a cure now?”

She dug her foot into the ground and wrung her hands. “No, but at the hospital I work in, I see so many people who are injured and suffering from the effects of these curses. When Severus and I started this project, we had so much hope that we could cure the victims of these curses. Their pain is unbearable to us. The sooner we cure them, the sooner all of the pain can end. Perhaps we can even move on from the war.”

“I’m sorry.” Wilford shook his head. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is crush your hopes and prevent anyone from being cured, but we need to be practical. I mean, you have to learn the rules of the road, and you need to be driving for a while before you can pass these tests.”

“I know the rules of the road. It wouldn’t be hard to pass the learner’s permit test,” she answered.

“And she will put in however many hours you need her to,” Severus answered. “We will stay here for as long as it takes for her to learn how to drive.”

“You want to spend your entire day learning how to drive?” Wilford asked.

“I do.” She folded her hands. “I need to learn how to drive.”

Muriel turned to Severus. “Do you want to learn how to drive too?”

“No.” He shook. “I have no interest in driving.”

“Why not? It is a convenient way of getting around.”

"I know, but I would prefer not to."

"Is it because you're afraid driving will be too inconvenient?" Wilford asked.

“Wilford,” Muriel hissed.

“What?” He shrugged. “The Weasleys made it clear that our modes of transportation were inferior to portkeys, apparation, and whatever else you wizards use. I believe Arthur called cars ‘primitive’ and ‘quaint.’”

“That does sound like him.” Hermione sagged.

“I do not find cars primitive at all,” Severus argued. “Still, driving has never appealed to me. When I was young, my parents could not afford a car. Thus, I never entertained the dream of learning how to drive.”

“And now?”

“Now, I fear car crashes, especially since,” his throat tightened, “since my dad killed himself and my mother by slamming into a tree while intoxicated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wilford’s voice was soft as he stepped closer to Severus. ”From that perspective, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to learn how to drive.”

“Indeed, though I trust Hermione’s driving skills will be superior to those of my father.”

“I know they will be.” Wilford smiled in Hermione’s direction. “She is more than capable of doing anything she wants.”

“Indeed she is.” Severus glanced in Hermione’s direction, giving her a smile.

“If you ever want to learn how to drive, just let me know.” Wilford put a hand on his shoulder. “I am more than happy to teach you.”

Severus startled, stepping backwards towards the fireplace. Hermione grabbed him and pulled him forward before he could fall.

“I’m sorry.” Wilford blinked. “I didn’t think you’d be that jumpy.”

“I apologize.” Severus paled. “I am suffering the aftermath from a potion explosion I endured yesterday. I am still on edge.”

“Yes, from how jumpy you’ve been lately, you seem to have a lot of potion accidents,” Wilford drawled. “It almost makes me wonder how safe it is for my daughter to live so close to you.”

“Actually this is the only potions accident he's been in since I’ve known him,” Hermione cut in. “It just shook him up because it happens so rarely.”

“I would imagine that would shake anyone up,” Muriel answered.

“It did more than I thought it would.” He looked in Muriel's direction without meeting her eyes.

“Well, if you’d like, I can give you a book on the rules of the road.” Wilford turned around. “I don’t know if you’ve read it before, but I’m sure you’ll master the material within a day.”

“I will.” There was a gleam in Hermione’s eyes.

Wilford looked back and grinned. “I know. You are a brilliant daughter. Never forget that.”

“I won’t.”

He nodded before strolling down the hall into his library.

“If you’d like, I can make you some lunch,” Muriel began. “We have makings for turkey, cheese, and mustard sandwiches, along with onion rings.”

“Those sound divine,” Hermione answered.

Muriel turned to Severus. “Would you like something?”

“I am fine with the sandwiches, though I will forgo the onion rings.”

“Okay. I have roast beef and chicken if you’d like.”

“I could go for some roast beef and mustard, but no cheese, please,” he answered.

“Very well then.” Muriel turned around and began making her way to the kitchen, listening for the footsteps behind her.

“Hermione?” Severus’ voice was unsure.

“Oh, yes.” She kissed him on the cheek and linked her arm in his.

Muriel watched as her daughter and her lover linked arms. Unlike other couples who walked together, Severus was a step or two behind her. His gait was uncertain as well.

“Watch it, there’s a chair.” Hermione moved to her right.

“Thank you.” He followed her.

Muriel hummed before making her way to the kitchen and pulling out the sandwich makings, the reason for Severus’ odd behavior becoming clearer by the second.

“Would you pull out some chips, Hermione?”

“Do we have Doritos?” She asked with a glisten in her eyes.

Muriel grinned. “I bought both cooler ranch and nacho cheese for you.”

“Thank you,” She strolled to the counter, leaving Severus standing in the corner.

“You may sit down if you’d like,” Muriel began.

He waved her off, not meeting her eyes. “I am fine standing.”

Muriel hummed, wondering if anyone else saw what she was seeing.

Chapter Text

“Okay, we’re almost there.” Hermione guided Severus down the hallway, her grasp firm and her steps sure. “The doorway is a little narrow, so you will need to take my hand as we go through. I’ll let go of your arm and take your hand.”

“Thank you.” He followed, hoping his smile projected his genuine affection.

For once, blindness was working in Severus' favor. Wilford claimed it was adorable that Severus and Hermione were so hands-on with each other, though he wished Severus would pull out a chair for Hermione every once in a while the way she did for him. Then again, no lover was perfect. The fact that Severus held his daughter’s hand instead of screaming at her already made him a better boyfriend than Ron ever was.

Muriel had not made a comment about their hand-holding, though she did ask if she could hug him before they settled in for the night. He didn’t know what to make of her relative silence on the issue of Hermione leading him around everywhere as if he were her puppy or the fact that she was the only one who understood the concept of asking before touching. Perhaps it was nothing, or perhaps she suspected more than she dared speak aloud. He’d need to come up with a cover-up story if she began asking too many probing questions.

“Here we go.” Hermione untangled herself from him and took his hand. Then, she led him through the doorway into the room. “Here’s the guest bedroom.”

Severus squinted. The room appeared like almost every other room: blurry with dim lights. He was certain there was a bed somewhere, though he wouldn’t have the foggiest clue where it was or how close it was to their suitcases.

“Dad thinks I will be ready for the written test tomorrow.” She turned on the light, making things only slightly more visible. “He was impressed with how quickly I memorized everything.”

“Why would he be surprised? Your ability to memorize has always been impressive.”

“It is?”

“Yes."

She fell silent.

“Is something wrong?” He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“Nothing, it’s just that you,” her voice cracked, “you never told me that when I was your student.”

“When you were a student, you couldn’t use your ability to memorize to resolve your quandaries. Everything had to be done according to the book without any critical thinking involved. Once you began to view problems creatively and broke away from doing everything by the book, you became quite the formidable researcher.”

“I don’t think I’m formidable at anything.” She exhaled.

He took a step in the direction of her voice. “You are taking a driver’s test when most wizards wouldn’t think to drive because it is below them. That alone makes you formidable.”

“It makes me weak because I’m losing my magic.”

“No, you are taking control of your situation, not hoping things improve. That is impressively strong.”

“Truly?”

He nodded.

“Thank you," her voice cracked.

“There’s never any need to thank me for honesty.”

A comfortable silence fell between them.

“Hopefully I won’t need a car after this.” She released his hand. “Do you need me to guide you to the suitcases?”

“Just tell me what direction I should go, and I will be fine.”

“It’s to your right against the wall.”

“Thank you.” He reached out and touched the wall. With slow steps, he stumbled to his right.

“Wait.”

He stopped mid-step.

“There’s a lamp.” She rushed over and moved something away from him. “There, now you won’t trip.”

“Thank you.” He continued, each step less steady than the last.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m…” His toe hit something, lurching his body forward. Just as he was about to stumble, Hermione grabbed him and held him upright against her chest.

His heart raced as he felt her body against his, reveling in how well they fit together. Her breaths were deep, and her face was close enough to where he could look in her eyes. There was a softness in them, one he'd always dreamt of seeing but had given up upon beholding in his waking life.

“Thank you.” He captured her lips.

Her moans and her arms around him were the most intoxicating sensation he’d ever felt. Merlin, this woman’s body was so perfect, and she didn’t even know it. He straightened his posture and held her closer.

“Severus,” she breathed as he broke away.

He hummed as he met her eyes.

“Are you injured?” She breathed, her eyes still hazy from the kiss.

“Do I appear injured?” His lips twitched upwards.

She relaxed. “No.”

“Then I am not.”

She took a deep breath. “We have to find some way for you to navigate this house without killing yourself. We can’t have you sit in a sitting room chair the entire time I’m getting my learner’s permit and practicing driving.”

“If you put on the right television show, it will look like I’m engrossed in the program. Surely the television can keep me occupied for an hour or two.”

“And if Mum wants to do something with you while Dad and I are out?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would she want to do anything with me?”

“Because she likes you and enjoys your conversations," she answered.

“She must not converse much with others if she finds my musings enjoyable.”

“Well,” there was a spark in Hermione’s eyes, “most of the people she talks to have their mouths open and cannot talk back. They are a captive audience, not the best conversationalists.”

“But I can talk back, which means I’m bound to say something that will upset her. It’s best not to speak with her and pretend to enjoy the television show, lest I forever destroy her good opinion of me.”

“I don’t think you could do that.”

“One never knows."

"No, my parents adore you. So long as you treat me well, you will remain in their good graces."

"That I will always do." He brushed his lips against hers.

She blushed before her eyes grew. “What if you have to go to the bathroom while I’m gone? Are you just going to crash into walls while searching for it?”

“Honestly,” he twisted his lips, “I had wondered how I would reach the bathroom if I needed to go in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, that’s simple; just wake me up,” she said it as casually as if she were telling him he could get a glass of water whenever he wanted.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, just wake me up and I’ll guide you there.”

“No, that isn't acceptable. I do not want you to lose sleep over me, especially when you have such a big test tomorrow.”

“The test isn’t until noon. I will be fine if you have to go to the bathroom and need to wake me up to do so.”

He slouched and shook his head.

“What? It’s fine. It really is,” she answered.

“No, it isn’t fine,” he argued. “I’m completely dependent on you to move around this house. It isn’t fair that you’re babysitting me while you’re learning how to drive.”

“It isn’t fair that you’ve been dragged across the world for my scheme either, yet you’re willing to be here, support me, and keep up appearances.”

“Of course it’s fair that I’m here. You need someone to help you. I promised I would help you as long as you needed me. It’s no trouble.”

“And that’s how I feel towards you,” she answered. “I will help you as long as you need me."

“I know, but,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel like a child who cannot walk from one point to another. Every time I think about getting up and going somewhere, I’m afraid I will fall, which would invite too many questions from your parents. The last thing I want is to explain to them that you are stuck with someone who is one fall away from becoming useless.”

“You won’t become useless any more than I will,” she answered.

“Then why do I feel that way?” He met her eyes. She was biting her lip, her eyes focused on a spot on the floor he could no longer see. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that there are ways you wouldn’t feel so useless, ways my parents could help with.”

"How? They don't know how to cure blindness."

"No, but they do know about accommodations." 

“Hermione,” his voice was low. "Don't go there."

"What choice do you have? Like it or not, you can’t navigate this place alone, not by touching the wall. Your best bet is to find a way to navigate places where someone doesn’t need to guide you.”

“How would I do that without everyone knowing I’m blind?”

Her silence spoke volumes.

“That’s what I thought.” He glanced downwards. “How much further do I need to go to reach the suitcase?”

“A couple more steps.” She untangled herself from him. “I put your stuff on the top so it’s easier to reach.”

“Thank you.” His voice was softer.

“Also,” she paused, “there’s only one bed.”

“That does not surprise me.” His toe touched leather. “I did not think they would want us to sleep on the floor, and we are allegedly together.”

“Yes, but if you want me to sleep on the floor, I know where the sleeping bags are. I can tell them that you were hogging the covers, so I decided to sleep on the floor.”

“Was I a cover hog when we slept together?” He felt around until he touched the silk of his nightshirt.

“No,” she answered. “You were a perfect gentleman the entire time.”

“Until I began cuddling you.”

“I didn’t mind that. Really,” happiness seeped into her voice, “I appreciate the affection. It makes me feel like someone cares for me even though the world is falling apart around me.”

He looked up in her direction, hoping he was meeting her eyes. “I will always be there for you. If you desire affection, let me know. What we have may not be as real as what you had with Mr. Weasley, but I can still give you some modicum of affection.”

“The affection you give me is more real.”

“It is?” He kept his eyes in her direction as he stood.

“Yes,” she answered. “You know exactly who I am right now. Despite everything, you accept who I am and who I am becoming. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else. You don’t judge me, nor do you degrade me because I’ve made a decision you disagree with.”

“Are you not used to that occurring?”

Her silence told him all she needed to know.

“The men you were with were all dunderheads.” His voice was soft. “You should’ve been loved and cherished in all your relationships.”

“I almost believe it when you say it like that.”

“You should believe it, for it is the truth.” He gestured for her to take his hand. “Would you like to lead me to the bathroom so I can change?”

“You can change here. I promise to turn around.”

He blinked.

“What? I’ll turn around.” He heard footsteps shifting.

“Fine,” he drawled before removing his shirt. “Though I suppose I’ll never know if you are watching or not.”

“That must be disconcerting," her voice fell.

“It is.” He threw his shirt on the ground before unbuttoning his pants.

“If you want me to leave…”

“It would defeat the purpose, for I’m half naked anyway.”

He couldn’t tell if the noise from her throat was a hum of affirmation or a suppressed moan. Deciding not to dwell upon it, he took off the rest of his clothes.

“Is it going to bother you if I stay up and reread the Rule of the Road Manual?” She asked.

“No,” he picked up his nightshirt. “Read it to your heart’s content.”

“Thank you.”

“Although,” he slipped the night robe on. “There may be a more effective way to study.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. You can turn around. I’m done.”

He heard her shifting.

“You can memorize facts, but those often become short-term. If you want to memorize something more effectively, you need to explain it in-depth," he began.

“How would you propose I do that? ”

“I want you to explain every sign to me."

“Excuse me?” She approached the suitcase and began rummaging through the clothes.

“Yes,” Severus answered. “I can’t tell you if you’re right or not, but if you can describe those signs and what they mean to a blind person, then you know the material.”

“That is just wild enough to work,” her voice was soft. “I would love to do that once I change into my nightgown.”

“Fine.” He took hold of the wall. “Just tell me when you’d like me to reenter the room.”

“Excuse me?”

He began stepping away. “Yes, I assume you’ll want to preserve your modesty.”

“Why would I ask you to leave? It isn’t as if you can see anything anyway.”

"True, but that doesn't mean I need to invade your privacy."

"It's fine. I don't mind having you around. Stay where you are while I change."

"Very well then." He closed his eyes despite seeing her just as well with them closed as he could when they were open.

“Anyway, I think what you’ve proposed is an excellent idea,” she continued. "Also, I'm done."

He hummed.

“What would you like to discuss first?”

He opened his eyes. “Please tell me what a stop sign looks like.”

“Okay.” He heard her footsteps near him. “It’s a red octagon with a white STOP in the middle.”

“Very good.” He relaxed. “Now, what does a yield sign look like?”

“It’s a triangle, with a red outline but white in the middle. There are red letters that read, “YIELD.”

“Excellent,” he answered, doing his best to remember the signs he saw in Cokeworth so he could continue to quiz her.

“Thank you.” He could smell her mint aloe lotion. “I’m ready for bed. Would you like to join me?”

“I would love to.”

“Great.” She linked her arm with his. “Ask me another question.”

“What is the speed limit on your parents’ street?” He allowed her to lead him.

“It’s 40 kph, which is a typical city speed limit.”

“So it is.”

“Here, you’re about to hit the bed.” She began. “Go ahead and turn around so you can sit on it.”

He did as he was instructed, allowing himself to feel the bed sag as he sat upon it. Confident that he would not fall off, he released Hermione and adjusted himself until he was lying down in the position he desired.

“What’s another question?” Her footsteps went to the other end of the bed.

“What are some of the animals on signs?”

“Excuse me?” She let out a slight chuckle as she crawled in bed beside him.

“Yes, I’ve heard that Australia has animals on their signs. What are they?”

“This is a good question.” The bed shifted as she pulled the blankets over herself. “There are kangaroos, emus, snakes, horses, and a few other ones.”

“What color are the signs?”

“They are yellow diamonds. The animal is in the center in black.”

“I see.” He shifted his eyes upwards, trying to envision it. He doubted the image in his head was correct, but it was something to go on.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asked.

“What is the speed limit of a rural highway?”

“Depends on the highway. On some highways it’s 100 kph, and on others it’s 110 kph. Now things get interesting in the outback…”

Severus grinned as she kept going. His mind drifted to being in a car with Hermione, inhaling the fresh air of the countryside, feeling the sun on his shoulders, and knowing it would never compare to the warmth that was her love.