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The Headmaster's Wife	By : Mrs_HH Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 96752 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 23
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 48
- 49
- 50
"This place is utterly charming, Severus. I approve," Narcissa enthused, walking back into the kitchen of Severus and Hermione's newly purchased cottage after he'd given her the guided tour, which admittedly took all of five minutes.
"My craving for your approval is once again sated," the dark-haired wizard drawled as he checked the lamb which had been cooking slowly for the past two hours in the cream Aga that Hermione had insisted on.
After his heated discussion with Hermione that morning, Severus threw a pile of parchment into his briefcase―Hermione insisted that he bring it for his meetings at the Ministry―and went to their cottage early so that he could cook something which required a little more thought and effort than he'd originally intended, but nothing so time-consuming that he couldn't do any work.
Narcissa made herself comfortable at the kitchen table; she had just commented on the divine smell emanating from the oven when she looked at Severus carefully. "You've always cooked in the Muggle way, haven't you?"
"I was brought up in what was essentially a Muggle household. Whilst I'm quite happy to have the house-elves cook at Hogwarts, whenever I was on my own and especially now with that I'm with Hermione, I prefer to do it this way."
"And then there's Lucius who needs an entourage to live on his own," Narcissa snarked flippantly.
Severus couldn't help but snort at her comment. "And you would do any better?"
"Probably not," she conceded before remarking, "speaking of Hermione, I thought she'd be here by now."
Filling the kettle, Severus advised dismissively, "She was teaching until four o'clock, and then had a couple of pastoral appointments. She should be here soon."
"Ah, I see," said the blonde witch knowingly. "What have you done?"
Slamming the kettle down on the stove, Severus growled, "Why do you always assume I've done something?"
Narcissa examined her perfectly manicured nails, before shrugging innocently. "I really couldn't say."
Severus sighed, lighting the gas under the kettle with a wave of his hand. "I haven't done anything, and I believe that's the problem," he grumbled. "Following my lamentable decision to inform the school of Horace's condition, we've hardly seen each other. When I was reinstated as headmaster I vowed to be upfront with the students because I couldn't abide the way Albus would never give anyone a straight answer. It seems that honesty wasn't the best policy in this case."
"Obviously not if it has caused you to neglect your witch, and yourself by the looks of things. You look exhausted, Severus," Narcissa told him, looking concerned. "Draco said that the students have taken it badly. He had to cancel dinner with us on Tuesday because of a disciplinary issue."
"Ah yes, the Instant Scalping incident. That was a rather long night," Severus recalled, Summoning two mugs from the cupboard. He then looked at Narcissa apologetically; he was unable to remember seeing her drinking her beloved tea in anything other than fine bone china. "Hermione insisted we go rustic."
"Who am I to argue with the lady of the house? I have to say, I do love this kitchen table," Narcissa effused, running her hand appraisingly over the old wooden surface.
"Yes, we're rather partial to it. It clinched the deal for us," Severus deadpanned whilst smirking internally as he recollected the rather frantic coupling that had taken place upon it when they'd first viewed the place.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. She knew perfectly well that her ex-lover had a penchant for shagging on tables. "Actually, darling, do you have any herbal tea?"
Turning to face her, Severus studied his friend carefully; his raised eyebrow caused Narcissa to avert her eyes and examine her nails once again. His curiosity was piqued, and the feeling of déjà-vu sweeping over him couldn't be ignored. He'd known Narcissa for twenty-seven years, and he vividly remembered the only other time she'd refused a cup of tea that he was making.
"Narcissa, have you told Pius?"
Panic flashed across her features. "Told him what?"
"That you're pregnant?"
"How did―"
"―Because you asked for herbal tea before you told me you were pregnant with Draco. I hope, however, there is no ambiguity over paternity this time."
Narcissa gave a resigned sigh. "I didn't think you'd remember that."
"I was nineteen with the prospect of being a father looming over me―of course, I bloody remember." Severus sat down next to his best friend's soon to be ex-wife and took her hand. "Is this what you want?"
Narcissa inclined her head and swallowed hard. "It's a shock to be sure, but yes, I do want this―I want this baby. But I will admit to being extremely apprehensive."
Severus nodded and squeezed her hand. "I can understand that, especially after the issues you had following Draco. In some respects, I am surprised to find you in this position."
"As am I. Of course, not all of that was my fault. It was quite an affront to Lucius' ego to find out that he would never father another child." Narcissa caught the look of confusion that flashed across Severus' face. "I know he told you we stopped trying because we couldn't bear to have another miscarriage, but for some reason―and I don't think either of us really understood why―when the Dark Lord returned, we decided to try again. Getting pregnant was never an issue for us, but after trying unsuccessfully for a year Lucius insisted we visit our healer. The problem lay with him, not me. Cruciatus damage to be precise. Well, you know how often he was punished."
"I was usually at his side." Severus grimaced, remembering the times they'd both been punished in the early days of Voldemort's return to ensure the fealty of those in the outer ranks.
"Don't tell him I told you though. You know what a pompous arse he is about such things, and―"
Severus rolled his eyes. "I would hope you know me well enough to know that my lips are sealed."
"Does that extend to Hermione?"
"I do not indulge in idle gossip. If she were to hear it from me, there would have to be a good reason."
Narcissa looked pensive. "Do you think Pius will take it well?"
Severus shrugged. "I think he will be shocked, but he loves you; that much is obvious. Now, I have some fresh mint leaves that I can infuse for you. Is that acceptable?"
Narcissa gave him a watery smile and nodded as Severus patted her hand before standing to attend to the now boiling kettle.
"Ironically," she began wistfully, "both you and Lucius were at the conception."
Severus' brow furrowed. He was sure he'd have remembered a show like that, but then it dawned on him. "The afternoon of the Ministry Ball?"
"Yes," Narcissa admitted coyly. "The only time we forgot to cast the charm."
"He didn't cast a locking charm either. We could have walked right in," Severus chuckled, crushing the mint leaves and adding them to the hot water he'd just added to the mug.
"I'm surprised you didn't," Narcissa smirked before Severus glared at her.
"And where would be the fun in that? Much better to wait outside and embarrass you."
Narcissa shook her head incredulously. "You two always did bring the childish streak out in each other."
A familiar voice was heard from the doorway. "Are you accusing Severus of having a childish streak?"

All of a sudden Severus seemed to forget that Narcissa was in the kitchen. Turning to look at Hermione, his breath hitched. She wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary―just her jeans, a pair of flats, and a large baggy jumper which hung off one shoulder to reveal the strap of her vest top. But that combined with her hair in a messy bun, a hint of tantalising lipgloss, and the fact that he had an extraordinary amount of making up to do, made him want to forget all propriety and set the kitchen table to use once again.
Narcissa looked between the couple and decided to make herself scarce. "Would you mind if I called Pius just to make sure he's not going to be late? He's simply awful at calling when he's busy."
Severus shook his head, and smirked when Narcissa kissed Hermione on both cheeks in greeting before whispering something in her ear that made his witch giggle. Once they were alone, Hermione put her hands in her back pockets and looked at her wizard coquettishly. "Hi!"
"Hello," Severus responded softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Closing the gap between them, Hermione tried to act as normally as possible. "Something smells good," she quipped, jerking her head towards the oven.
Nonchalant as ever, Severus told her, "I thought I'd do roast lamb."
"With garlic, rosemary and anchovies?"
Severus looked almost affronted. "How else would I do it?
Hermione gave him a beaming smile and, standing on tiptoes, brushed her lips against his cheek before purring in his ear, "My favourite."
"I know."
"And you did all this for me?"
Severus smirked, placing his hands on her hips. "I have been an arse, and I wanted our weekend away to start as I mean it to go on," he told her, leaning down to press his lips to hers gently. That simple touch seemed to lend momentary balance to his world, and it wasn't long before his soft, teasing kisses had deepened into a more greedy, desperate exploration of her mouth. He determined that she'd been eating liquorice again―something he only found out she liked when he'd found her with her hand in a big box of Liquorice Allsorts a few days ago. Grateful that he was kissing her for long enough to notice what she'd been eating, he continued in his fevered assault on her lips until her moans of pleasure overwhelmed him.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he panted out, "Fuck, I've missed you," before pressing his forehead to hers and uttering his heartfelt apology. "I'm so sorry, my love. I didn't mean to become so insufferable to live with over the last few weeks."
"I thought I was the insufferable one."
Severus chuckled deeply―a sound which Hermione had missed so much―and manoeuvred them so that his backside was resting on the kitchen table, allowing his witch to stand between his legs. "Evidently, it takes one to know one, but forgive me for being so neglectful."
Hermione wrapped her arms around Severus' neck and gave him a bruising kiss, which caught him completely off guard. "I'll only forgive you if you forgive me for not being understanding enough."
"Then is all forgiven?" Severus asked hopefully, pushing Hermione away from him slightly to gauge her response.
Hermione nodded, her eyes sparkling with relieved tears. "Just talk to me, Sev. You take too much on your shoulders, and then we end up like this. Please, let me help you."
"I'm so sorry," he reiterated. "I'll try, I promise. I feel as though I overburden you sometimes, and―"
"Maybe you do, but there's so much going on at the moment, and you cannot do all this on your own―well you can, but I hate to think what you'd be like when you came out on the other side."
"I can well understand Albus' penchant for the Pensieve," Severus muttered.
Hermione huffed lightly. "So can I, but all a Pensieve does is store up memories for another time, and Albus didn't have someone like me."
"Indeed, he did not," Severus chuckled, tenderly cupping her cheek. He whispered, "I love you, Hermione," before capturing her lips once again.
This time the kiss steadily deepened. Severus took his time to suckle each lip softly, tugging it between his own, and pulling back so slowly until they were barely touching. Hermione was melting in his arms, and the way her body was moulding into his was putting a significant strain on the front of his trousers. Gathering her closer, his hands gainfully employed in mapping every inch of her jean-clad backside. Again their lips met, his tongue begging for entrance, she was grabbing at his jumper, desperate to feel his skin. He groaned at the touch of her warm hands on his back as their tongues languorously rolled against the other's, until, once again, Severus reluctantly broke the moment. A small smile graced his lips before he gave her one last chaste kiss. Pulling her in to a tight embrace, he purred, "There will be plenty more of that later."
"I hope so," Hermione replied breathlessly, her lips still tingling. "Do you need a hand with anything?"
Severus knew that she meant with dinner, but couldn't resist looking down at the noticeable bulge in his trousers. One short, sharp slap on the arm later, and that problem soon disappeared.

Severus had never seen Hermione eat with so much gusto, but reasoned that she was bound to have a healthy appetite after weeks of enduring so much nervous tension. She smiled bashfully at him, primly placing her knife and fork on her empty plate before thanking him for cooking dinner. It was enough to make Severus want to lean over and kiss her. And had it just been Narcissa and Pius that were sharing a meal with them he may have done so, but he wasn't about to do that in front of a relative stranger.
Pius and Healer Simeon Hutchinson had arrived at the cottage just before dinner to discuss in detail the final plan for retrieving Hermione's parents from Australia. They had previously agreed to hold this meeting at the cottage rather than Pius' office in case the walls had developed ears. The locations of Pius' home, Spinners End, Snape and Malfoy Manors, and even Simeon's flat were matters of public record. But hardly anyone knew about Severus and Hermione's new property, and so Pius told his secretary that he was taking Narcissa away for a surprise weekend; Simeon told his secretary that he was visiting his Muggle parents, who, as luck would have it, lived only a few miles away from the cottage in St Ives, and Severus was told by Minerva that she'd just tell anyone who asked that it was none of their damned business where he'd gone for the weekend.
Whilst dinner had been a pleasant affair, once they began to discuss the reason for their meeting, Hermione immediately became on edge. Given her outburst this morning, Severus knew how worked up she was, but he'd hoped that she would have warmed to Pius' choice of healer by now.
When Hermione had first met Simeon, the healer had felt as if he'd mistakenly attended an interview, which the curly-haired professor was conducting. Hermione's question asking was legendary, but the ones she aimed at him were decidedly pointed. The slender, dark blue-eyed wizard had expected her to be cautious about the situation, but what he hadn't expected was her to be so wary of him. To her, Simeon was the weakest link in the expedition, and yet he was responsible for the most delicate aspect of it as far as she was concerned―the physical and mental health of her parents.
Simeon had been Pius' healer after the war, and despite the Head of Magical Law Enforcement relentlessly vouching for his competency, Hermione continued to eye him suspiciously. By his own admittance, he was quite a timid man, but when it came to his vocation he knew he was one of the best. Simeon's last hope in winning the young witch over was her partner. The problem was her partner intimidated him, and her partner knew it. But surprisingly that feeling of intimidation actually worked in his favour. All it took for Hermione to eventually accept him was for her to witness him gulp nervously at Severus Snape's veiled threat to ensure personally that her parents received the very best care.
"Now, Hermione, what kind of Obliviate did you use?" Simeon asked with the soft reassurance of a seasoned medical professional.
"She used Oblivisci Me Praesente," Severus informed as Hermione shifted awkwardly in her chair.
After Dumbledore's death, Hermione realised the need to protect her parents and once she decided on a course of action, she'd gathered as much information as she could from the Restricted Section. She'd found a wealth of sources, but the reason why she was researching such spells played heavily on her mind, and, for once, the usually methodical student was struggling to concentrate.
For days, she'd sat silently in her childhood bedroom whilst her parents worked, planning their disappearance and new life together in Australia. She knew she had six weeks to engineer everything because as soon as Harry turned seventeen all hell would break loose, and their search for the remaining Horcruxes would start.
She had to forge birth certificates, passports, emigration and immigration documents, statements and utility bills. She also had to change and set up new bank accounts. She'd found a spell to help produce counterfeit documentation, but dealing with the banks would prove more troublesome, and she realised that Polyjuice was the answer. Having taken care of the practicalities, Hermione knew the day was fast approaching where she had to say goodbye to her parents. She tried to do more with them; tried to enjoy her time with them, but it was nearly impossible to do that without raising suspicion. In the end, she settled for seeing her parents acting as they always did―the way she wanted to remember them.
When the day arrived, it was like any other Saturday morning. Her parents had gone to the supermarket, and she'd quickly Summoned everything that was hers and placed in her famous beaded bag before removing all traces of herself from the house. She stripped and redecorated her bedroom, replaced all their documentation, and under the guise of offering to do some cleaning, removed all photo frames from the living and dining room and replaced all pictures which included herself with those of just her parents. She left them on the dining table to be found later. Satisfied that there were no remaining traces of her, she laid out their new travel documents and tickets on her father's bedside table and waited for her parents to return.
After helping to put away the shopping, Hermione made them a cup of tea and spent the final moments with her parents in the living room, watching the news. Making an excuse to leave the room, she playfully told them that she loved them, but instead of going upstairs, she stood in the doorway and as her parents began to converse again, she withdrew her wand.
"I'd meant to use Oblivisci Me Existentiam, but once I'd raised my wand my mind went blank, and I wasn't sure what spell I'd cast."
"Ah, so you used the unscrupulous cad's spell of choice," Hutchinson smirked, feeling relaxed enough to joke with the witch.
Hermione blushed. "I know. That was why I had discounted it, but obviously I―"
"―Was understandably upset," Simeon said soothingly. "However, by using Existentiam you would have possibly prevented some of the side effects that Praesente causes."
"What do you mean 'side effects'?"
"The reason why Praesente was effectively outlawed was because the wizard or witch, once they'd had their fun, could cast this spell and walk away. It is easier to remember than Existentiam, and had a somewhat egocentric quality that some disreputable characters found appealing. You see, the offended party would know that something had occurred; they would feel that something was missing, but wouldn't be sure what it was. Therefore the offending party, knowing that the act was affecting the person they'd seduced in some way...well if you will excuse the expression, they got off on it."
"Well, I can assure you I'm not getting off on it," Hermione snapped before Severus spoke soothingly in her mind. "So are you saying that my parents are unhappy?"
"Not unhappy, but maybe unfulfilled. For example, perhaps they wish they'd had children, but it won't affect their happiness together."
Severus squeezed Hermione's arm. "Don't dwell on it. The point is the spell has been identified, and I will endeavour to reverse it."
Hermione looked at her wizard and gave him a watery smile. "So what is the actual plan? What will you have to do?"
"When we arrive in Australia we will be met by our contact from the Australian Ministry," Pius began. "After a day's rest, we will make contact with your parents and claim to be Muggle officials from the British Consulate. We will tell them that we need their help regarding a crime that was committed near your family home around the time that they emigrated. We are hoping this will throw them off their guard and make an already strange situation seem more expected."
Hermione bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. "You'll have trouble with Dad to start with. He's always very sceptical. Mum, on the other hand, is much more trusting of officials than Dad. On the other hand, make Dad feel like he's in a James Bond film and you'll soon win him over." She chuckled softly, recalling her father's fascination with James Bond and spy films in general, and how he always managed to stop whatever he was doing whenever there was a spy film on the television.
Pius looked confused. "James Bond?"
"A fictional Muggle spy," Severus supplied before asking dryly, "So, that's why your father wants an Aston Martin?"
Hermione nodded at him playfully. "Have you ever seen a James Bond film?"
"Of course," Severus huffed. "Although I think the last one I watched was Live and Let Die when I was about fifteen."
"That's my favourite, and Dad's too."
"Must be something in the cards." Severus smirked as Hermione understood the reference and playfully nudged him in the arm before their attention returned to Simeon.
"From a medical perspective I will be casting diagnostic charms from the moment we meet your parents to see how their minds are working. I will relay this information to Severus before he begins his work. He will attend to your parents individually, and throughout the Legilimency and mind altering process I will be monitoring both the patient and Severus. Once he has successfully completed his work, I will place each parent into a medically induced coma to help their mind recover more quickly. When they wake, hopefully, they will be the Michael and Helen Granger that you recognise."
The reality of the situation was beginning to hit Hermione hard, and tears began to sting her eyes. She might recognise them as her parents again, but would they recognise her as their daughter? She had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying. "Then what?"
"We will begin the rehabilitation and assimilation process," Simeon told her calmly.
The young witch growled impatiently. "But what does that mean?"
Hermione began to nervously play with her nails as Pius and Simeon outlined the process. Severus reached over and placed his hand over his witch's, entwining their fingers tightly. Looking up, he noticed Narcissa's sickening look of approval at the sight, and if he hadn't been trying to calm his witch a sharp rebuff would have been fired at his friend.
Pius sat back in his chair. "We will spend two days acclimatising them to the fact that they have a daughter. We will explain the danger that they were in, and the reason why you took it upon yourself to perform such an action. We will also explain the outcome of the war, and that it's now safe for them to come home. What we won't do is mention that they will have a security detail assigned to them for the next few months."
Hermione's brow furrowed.
Simeon nervously looked at Pius before delivering the reason for withholding this information. "We don't want to add any unnecessary concerns that could set back their recovery by several months."
Severus' eyes narrowed. "How long will their recovery take?"
The headmaster had insisted on meeting Simeon before he was introduced to Hermione in order to ascertain the truth of the situation. Ever since he'd told his witch of the plan to bring her parents back, deep down Severus regretted it. Neither of them was naïve; they knew there was a risk that her parents wouldn't want anything to do with her once their memories had been restored, but every time his witch discussed their return he saw more and more hope filling her eyes. He'd promised to stand by her; he'd promised that no matter what happened they would face it together, but this plan was to be executed in a little more than two weeks time and he needed to know that nothing had been held back from them.
Simeon had always been confident that, in his professional opinion, Hermione's parents would recover fully. He hadn't lied or withheld any information deliberately, but he realised as Hermione sat before him teary eyed, and felt the full weight of Severus' attention bearing down on him, that he should have made one point clearer.
The healer swallowed hard before he spoke. "The physical mind healing, that is to say their memories, should be fully complete in two to three weeks. The mental healing—anything up to a year—may be longer."
Hermione practically jumped up from her chair. "What? You've never said anything like that before. Why might it take so long?"
Severus wrapped his hand around her wrist, urging her to sit down and remain calm before he fixed the healer with a poisonous stare. "I am aware of the damage mind alteration can do, but unless the brain is physically damaged the mental repercussions are generally quick to heal."
"Indeed they are, but research suggests that it is only if the mental trauma has been inflicted by an enemy," Simeon advised, "but, in this case―"
Hermione realised immediately what Simeon was implying, and tears streamed down her face. "It's because I did it, isn't it?"
"Regrettably, yes."
Severus felt his stomach lurch. One of the reasons he'd wanted to keep this mission from Hermione was so that he'd be able to deliver her parents fully healed, and happy to see her. Or if it had all gone wrong―well he would have dealt with that as and when. He pulled his now sobbing witch against him as the healer continued.
"Your intentions were good, Hermione, no one can deny that, and I expect them to make a full recovery, but it might be slow. And please remember that they may recover much quicker―"
"We do not need platitudes or false hope," Severus spat, cradling Hermione's head as she mumbled into his chest that this was all her fault.
"No, of course not, but you need to be in full possession of the facts," Simeon said quietly, trying to hide the fact he was shaking slightly under Severus' intense scrutiny, "and I can assure that their aftercare will be second to none."
"It fucking well better be," Severus snarled, leading Hermione from the kitchen to their bedroom in an attempt to calm her down.
Pius drained his wine glass. "I think that could have gone better."
Narcissa simply rolled her eyes as she sipped her water, and gave the two wizards still at the table disapproving looks.

It took Severus half an hour to calm Hermione enough to return to the kitchen and their guests.
She apologised to everyone as Severus pulled out her chair for her, but Simeon immediately admonished her, stating that it was his fault and that he should have handled the situation better. Severus couldn't agree more.
Pius tried to chivvy along the discussion again. "Now, Hermione, are your parents familiar with the Daily Prophet?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, they always had it delivered. Why?"
"Excellent. Well, we will take relevant copies with us. Your parents will be able to peruse the events of the war and the aftermath at their leisure."
Severus was about to snort derisively at using the Daily Prophet as a source of reliable evidence when Hermione blurted out, "No!"
Narcissa immediately leant forward and reached for Hermione's hand even though the distance was too far to make contact. "What's the matter, my dear?"
"I...I don't want them to find out about―"
"About what?" Severus interjected, his tone heavy with frustration.
Swallowing hard, Hermione looked at him. "Well, they know who you are. I mean, I used to moan about how strict you were and how you ignored me; how mean you could be. And Mum knows I had a crush on you," she admitted sheepishly.
"Do your parents know about my role in Dumbledore's death?" Severus asked reticently.
Shaking her head, she sighed. "No. I told them it was Death Eaters, and they told me I wasn't returning to Hogwarts. I got upset one night because...well I knew what I had to do, and I was still trying to make sense of what you did. I didn't want to believe it, and Mum asked what was wrong. So, I told her that I had a crush on you and that, by not going back to Hogwarts, I might never see you again. I wasn't lying; I honestly didn't know if or when I would see you again."
Severus knew exactly how she felt. Each time he'd managed to check on her, he'd always been left wondering if he would ever see her again. "And your father?"
"He just thinks you were the bastard who ignored his daughter. He often threatened to give you a piece of his mind for that."
"Oh how wonderful!" Severus quipped.
"So your father is rather protective of you?" Narcissa enquired. The thought of Severus having a father-in-law as protective as he was rather amused her.
"Yes, he is. Fiercely so. He still thinks I'm eleven, and I don't want him to―"
Severus pursed his lips. "Oh, I see. You don't want them to know about us."
"No, that's not what I mean," Hermione bit back, turning to face Severus and taking his hands in hers. "But I do know that if Dad sees everything chronologically he'll form an opinion about you before he gets to know you, and―"
"Do you think me incapable of handling your father?"
"No, I know you can, but it's how you handle him that―"
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; a frustrated growl forming at the back of his throat. "Hermione," he began deliberately, "the man is your father. Unless he attacks me with some form of weaponry, I won't hex him. If there are issues I shall remind him that you are a strong, freethinking and highly intelligent woman, whom he should be very proud of and that I'm am honoured that you have condescended to accept me. I shall also impress upon him that my intentions towards you are entirely honourable."
"But he'll miss out the bit about the two of you shagging like rabbits," Pius piped up cheekily, only for Narcissa to slap him. "What? It's just what I've heard," he groused, trying to look innocent.
Severus rolled his eyes. "And once again, I thank our illustrious former Minister for Magic for his insightful interjection."
"I live to serve," Pius intoned humbly as Severus glowered at him. However, he added more seriously, "but perhaps we should be careful what we show your parents."
"I think that would be wise," Simeon agreed. "Normally I'd recommend that information is given chronologically, but Hermione knows her parents better than we do and has raised some valid points. That method could be detrimental to their recovery, which is to be avoided at all costs. If we package the information into sections, we can ensure they fully understand the situation and are more likely to form more favourable opinions."
Severus gave a disgruntled snort but Simeon continued, "We can gently introduce the fact that you two are together so it won't be a complete shock to them. We need to avoid confrontations."
"Or we could wait until they return to the UK and tell them together," Severus offered with a shrug, not really wanting to face her parents' disapproval alone.
"No, it's better they find out as soon as possible," Hermione insisted. "They might not like it, but if you don't say something―"
"Hermione is correct," Simeon interrupted. "You will be in their presence, and withholding the fact that you are courting their daughter could be detrimental to their recovery and your future relationship with them."
Twisting her lips, Hermione suggested, "I could write them a letter."
Simeon considered this carefully. "An excellent suggestion, and to confirm Severus' position in your life he should be the one to present it to them."
Narcissa had been listening to the conversation intently. "What is the plan for when Hermione's parents return to this country?"
"Should they wish to return," Simeon sighed deeply, "they will stay at St Mungo's for two weeks to ensure that there are no adverse repercussions following the mind alteration."
Hermione tensed as Simeon voiced her own concern that her parents might decide to stay in Australia and sensing this, Severus placed his hand back over hers, squeezing it reassuringly.
This didn't seem to sit well with Narcissa. "Forgive me, and I know I'm not an expert in the inner workings of the mind, but as much as I can see how that would benefit someone from our world, surely it would be better for Hermione's parents to spend this time in a more Muggle environment."
Simeon nodded. "I agree, but we need to monitor their progress and if they returned to their own home, they would have to deal with their neighbours―"
"―And we must consider the security implications," Pius added.
Narcissa sighed. "Yes, I understand that, but―"
"I've got an idea," Hermione interrupted the older witch, "and I know we haven't talked about it, Sev, but could they stay at the flat?"
A little nonplussed, Severus shrugged. "Of course. Your family are more than welcome."
Without thinking, Hermione said, "They're your family too. It would be ideal because it's in London, we've got a television and music centre there, and it's essentially Muggle apart from a few charms and Severus' wards."
Severus was taken aback at Hermione's family comment. Whenever they'd talked about family, it was when they were discussing the one they'd eventually create together. He knew―he hoped―that her parents would return and want Hermione back in their lives, but it simply hadn't crossed his mind that he'd be part of her existing family, as well.
They probably won't want you in their lives.
The conversation had stirred one of Severus' greatest fears: that Hermione's parents would not approve of their relationship, and see fit to make Hermione her future with him. They might be soul bound, but would that be enough to keep them together. However, as always, he gave the impression of being unfazed,and supplied, "We can add a Floo connection to your office, Simeon."
"And I don't mind sitting with them when Hermione is at work," Narcissa added.
"Really?" Hermione was shocked that Narcissa would openly state that she would spend time with Muggles.
"Of course. They're your parents and now that I know you better, and knowing what you have done for Draco, it's the least I can do."
Simeon thought about this for a moment. "I suppose that would work. I often do house visits, and I can check on them after work. Narcissa can contact me with any urgent issues. How does this work for you, Pius?"
Tapping his middle finger absentmindedly on the table, Pius raised his eyebrows as he considered what he'd just heard. "Who exactly knows of the flat's location?"
"Only close friends," Hermione chimed in.
"Keep it that way. We can create an Anti-apparition perimeter and limit the Floo access. Does the building have a concierge?"
Severus nodded.
"We can see about getting someone in there," Pius drawled nonchalantly, taking a sip of wine. "Fear not, Hermione, they will be well protected, and we'll continue to protect them until we know the current threat is removed."
Hermione thanked everyone sitting around the table, and smiled as Severus leaned over and mumbled into her hair, "Everything will be fine, love." She turned and took him by surprise by kissing him chastely on the lips before asking who wanted coffee.

After they had finished their coffee―mint tea in Narcissa's case, which caused a raised eyebrow from Pius―Simeon took his leave, promising to liaise with Hermione over the next few weeks so that he cold allay any concerns.
Once Severus had closed the front door, he rejoined everyone in the kitchen, enjoying the sound of Hermione's laughter as Pius did an impression of Narcissa enthusing over the fabric swatches that had arrived for the latest set of guest rooms to be redecorated at Snape Manor.
"So, you are coming to our divorce party in a couple of weeks?" Narcissa asked with just a hint of sardonic humour as Severus sat down and casually draped his arm over the back of Hermione's chair.
"I thought Lucius was joking," Hermione gasped.
Severus chuckled deeply. "You should know by now that Lucius never jokes about opportunities to strut around like the peacocks of which he is so fond."
"And besides, we're not exactly upset to be divorcing. Saddened, yes," Narcissa added before looking at Pius, "but it's worked out rather well for me."
Pius placed a hand over his witch's. "I've done quite well out of it, as well," he teased.
Severus smirked. Regardless of their affair―which seemed a lifetime ago now―Severus had always cared about Narcissa. She'd often been a voice of reason in his life, and he was pleased to see her so happy. He just hoped that her news wouldn't sour her relationship with Pius.
He was about to make a teasing remark when the voice of Poppy Pomfrey rang out from the living room fireplace.
"Severus, are you there?"
Severus tensed. Hermione took his hand, knowing that the school matron's interruption to their evening could mean only one thing. Squeezing her hand, he excused himself from the table.
Walking into the living room, Severus asked urgently, "Is it Horace?"
"I apologise for interrupting your evening, Headmaster, but I'm afraid it is. I believe the end is―"
"I will make my apologies and Floo directly to the hospital wing. Thank you."
Taking a moment to compose himself, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He knew this day was coming, but somehow now it was here, there was an uneasiness in his stomach that he couldn't quite place. Turning to walk back into the kitchen he found Hermione stood in the doorway.
"Horace?"
"Alas. My presence is required back at Hogwarts."
Hermione walked towards him and squeezed his arm comfortingly. "I'll come with you."
Severus shook his head, taking her hands in his. "No, stay with Pius and Narcissa. Once they leave, Floo directly to the castle. I don't know when I will be able to return, and I don't want you here on your own."
"So much for our weekend away," Hermione grumbled.
Severus sighed, pulling her into his arms. "I know, however, circumstances dictate―"
"Oh God, you have to go; I understand that. It just feels like someone, somewhere, is determined to keep us from spending time together."
"Not this time," Severus assured her. "Tonight is unavoidable, but tomorrow night we shall return here because fuck knows we need some time alone." He pressed a kiss to her hair, hoping he wouldn't have to let her down.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him. "Are you alright?"
Severus shook his head. "I'm not sure that I am."
Not knowing quite how to respond, Hermione whispered, "I love you."
Lowering his head to claim her lips softly, Severus replied, "And I love you more than you will ever know."

Severus hid it well, but when he stepped into the private hospital wing room and observed Horace Slughorn lying grey and motionless in the bed, he was shocked. Over the last few days, Horace's decline had been noticeable, but the deterioration between the headmaster's visit that afternoon and now was beyond belief.
"I trust I am not too late, Poppy," he asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she bustled quietly around the room before indicating that Severus should sit down on the chair she'd placed by Horace's bedside.
Making her way to the door, she said quietly, "Minerva wanted me to tell her when you arrived. Just let Horace know you're here. I don't know if he will wake again, but the last thing he said was that he wanted you to be here."
Severus watched the door close and stared at it for a moment. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself before turning his attention to the dying man.
Sitting at someone's deathbed is a rite of passage that no one wants, but it's one that everyone hopes they will be given the chance to experience— especially where their loved ones are concerned. Not because you want someone to die, but because you don't want them to die alone, and you need the comfort of knowing that they passed away peacefully and without pain.
Despite Severus being present at the end of a number of lives, it was always against his will, and peace was in short measure. And yet as he observed his former professor, his thoughts, for some reason, flew back to when Draco was born. He could only imagine how Lucius felt at his son's arrival, but for the child's godfather―once he'd breathed a sigh of relief that the child was definitely a Malfoy―witnessing a new life come into the world had been a privilege and an honour. While this undoubtedly was the end rather than the beginning of a life, the brooding wizard felt that this too was a privilege and an honour―albeit it a sad one.
However, one question pushed its way into Severus' mind. Why do you want me, of all people, here?
Swallowing his self-deprecating thoughts, the younger wizard took a deep breath to try and loosen the tightness in his throat. When he did finally speak, he was surprised by the unfamiliar rawness in his voice. "I understand you wanted to see me."
Severus shifted awkwardly in his seat, his mind drifting to all the important people he'd lost in his life.
No matter how much Dumbledore tried to justify his death as merciful and a sacrifice for the greater good, Severus could never forget the fact that it was he who raised his wand and uttered the two words that ripped his soul apart. Admittedly, it was quick and painless, and he'd saved Albus from an inevitably painful demise, but it didn't stop that night from haunting Severus' dreams.
It doesn't stop the guilt.
"Narcissa, Pius, and Hermione send their best," Severus informed Horace dispassionately. Taking Horace's cold hand, the headmaster found himself instinctively feeling further up his arm; it, too, was getting colder as the old man's body began to preserve its heat for the vital organs. Severus lost count of the times that he'd discovered fallen victims and had done this to ascertain whether he could save them or not. Most of time he couldn't, but unlike all the times where he'd had to walk away, he watched his former professor's chest rise and fall unsteadily; each time wondering which would be the last.
Severus' mind began to wander again. He'd always felt conflicted over his father death. He'd always wished that his father didn't exist, and although he wasn't responsible for his death, he felt that he probably contributed to it. He'd hoped the accident would free his mother from an abusive relationship and finally he would become close to her again, but it wasn't to be.
When Dumbledore informed him of her death, the young wizard had been crippled with anger and guilt. In the intervening years, he'd tried to hide behind the fact that she'd been the one who refused to see him, but deep down Severus knew that he should have ignored her and just gone home. Maybe then he'd have seen that she was ill and encouraged her to seek help sooner; perhaps she would have recovered. But the point was her son should have been provided the opportunity to be at his mother's bedside. He resented Eileen for that, but that was superseded by his anger at the fact that she died alone in an NHS hospital when the nurse who'd been sitting with her popped out for a cup of tea. When he wasn't feeling angry about that, he certainly felt guilty.
The unease continued to swell within him, and he took a gasping breath as he felt a tear drip off his nose.
Severus began to recount his day to Horace as he'd done every day for the last few weeks. "So, what shall we talk about this evening? We've been finalising the plan for bringing Hermione's parents back―"
But as he continued to talk, his mind drifted again. He wished that he'd been allowed to know his grandmother better in life. The two had corresponded during his teenage years, and once he'd inherited the Prince fortune he'd met her again after years of being kept apart. He liked her. She was a formidable woman, and he appreciated her forthright nature. But just as they'd begun to get to know each other, she had been taken from him. Her portrait told him that she hadn't been in pain and passed peacefully in her sleep; nevertheless, her grandson felt cheated somehow. And after his discussions with Horace, the fact that he'd not known his grandfather irked him, as well.
Well, life isn't fair, is it?
Another stuttering breath from the dying man broke Severus from his thoughts. He turned to look at Horace, who had always been a bumbling, old fool in Severus' eyes. Even teachers in their early twenties seemed old to their students, but for Hogwarts' students many of the professors seemed like fossils. In fact, Headmaster Snape's staff had the youngest average age of staff―if he excluded Professor Binns, who still insisted on teaching―for over four hundred years. But when a tender eleven year old Severus first met his Head of House, Slughorn was already in his eighties.
The first thing Horace ever said to him directly was, "I see you have formed quite the friendship with that young redhead in Gryffindor. She has the makings of a fine potioneer."
Of course she did. She used to sit in my bedroom and watch me.
He may have made his peace with Lily, but he'd never get over the way she died. She had been twenty-one; she was three weeks younger than him, and she was too young to die. Like Albus, the act was sacrificial and physically painless, but the pain both their deaths caused to everyone who loved and respected them, was unfathomable.
If only I'd kept my mouth shut.
Apart from being people Severus actually cared about, they also had another thing in common: they all died without the comfort of someone holding their hand as Horace had now. Usually he'd have dismissed such a sentimental thought, but he knew personally how important that simple act was. He'd been on the verge of death―before Hermione had intervened―and in that moment Harry had been with him. At a time that could have been the very end, Severus had someone there, and it was more comforting that he'd ever care to admit. At that point―even though some bossy witch had other ideas―he could have rested in peace.
Or burned in hell.
With that thought, Severus was at a loss for words, especially as he'd just relayed the details of the discussion about Hermione's parents, as well as voicing his own personal worries―which extended to her parents hating him. He wiped away his tears with the heel of his palm.
He looked at the old man and felt helpless. Here was another life that he couldn't save, but he no longer saw his former professor lying there; he saw every pleading face; every glassy eye, every drop of blood. He felt his stomach churning and bile stinging his throat.
How many have I failed?
Everywhere Severus looked, he saw those who had been affected by the war. He saw the new ghosts who were starting to make themselves known around Hogwarts following the final battle. The fallen weren't afforded the comfort of having someone with them at the end; their families weren't afforded this rite of passage. And here he was, sitting at the deathbed of a man that he'd treated with varying degrees of contempt for as long as he'd known him, and yet his imminent passing was ripping a huge hole within him.
His chest constricted; a sense of disquiet engulfed him. He felt queasy, and tried to analyse his overwhelming guilt and shame.
Everything was my fault.
Guilt was something that Severus had lived with from the moment he understood the concept. When he was a small boy, he'd felt guilty about being a wizard because it was that which made his father hate him―or, so his father told him. His interest in the Dark Arts was nothing shameful, but he was ashamed about where it had ultimately led him. He knew he had a temper; he knew he was a proud man and had the capability to make snide, hurtful remarks―that he could live with―but he did feel guilty about some of the things he'd said in his life. He also felt guilty about some of the things he hadn't said. And then his thoughts again swirled inexorably down into the guilt he always felt for all those he couldn't save; ashamed for all times he stood by and watched, and guilt for all the times he didn't stand by and watch. He had denied so many people of this moment of being with their loved one at the end.
How much blood do I have on my hands?
Severus' emotions were roiling, and he couldn't understand why this one dying man was the cause. Memories were flooding into his mind that he wanted to banish, and a sudden vitriol engulfed him. He'd known this man for twenty-seven years, and finally he had crawled under his skin. He'd looked forward to his discussions with Horace; he'd been challenged and moved by his conversations with the man who never treated Severus like the true Slytherin he was, simply because his name didn't fit, and his pure-blood family had removed itself from the political shenanigans of the day. This was the man who had failed to protect him from the horrors of home, and didn't see fit to stop him from being groomed for the horrors yet to come. The man professed to live within the light, but he failed to keep most of his wards away from the dark because he enjoyed the patronage and brandy of the elitist, pure-blood, supremacist families too much.
What a fucking hypocrite!
And that comment was aimed at himself just as much as it was at Slughorn because here he was, comforting the man who had no time for the northern lad from the poor home, the same man who failed to recognise his talents or give him credit where it was due. Yes, the latter was one of Severus worst traits―he fully admitted that―but was it any surprise, he asked himself, when he'd been set such a wonderful example by the man who should have known better.
At least I looked after every member of my house. If they were good enough to be a Slytherin, they were good enough for me―regardless of their background. And how dare he dismiss my Potions skills and fawn over Lily when I could have knocked him into a cocked hat at thirteen!
The disturbing sound of another ragged breath pulled him out from his internal rant. Even though death was inevitable, Horace still fought for life with every difficult breath. Breathing seemed such a cheap commodity until the moment you were struggling for it, and yet Severus was ashamed to admit that in the moments before Hermione pulled him back from the brink, he would have willingly thrown his last breath away in order to end his emotional and physical suffering. But here was Horace Slughorn battling on, and Severus had to admit that this battle had earned the older wizard his admiration.
Over the last few weeks, Severus had seen a completely different side of Horace which took him completely by surprise. He found himself comparing his relationships with Albus and Horace. Severus knew Albus cared―he considered him to be a father figure and mentor―but there were things he couldn't talk to his headmaster about. Partly because the notoriously meddling wizard had always controlled the conversation, but also because Severus didn't want Dumbledore to know anything that could be used against him at a later date. The current headmaster found that he could talk far more openly to his predecessor's portrait than he could to the man when he was alive.
And whereas Albus was very good at providing counsel, it wasn't without premeditation or ulterior motive. However, Horace had simply let Severus talk. They'd debated politics and the state of the world; they'd argued over Potions articles, and they'd talked about family and the future. Advice was given and taken, but Severus knew that when Horace died, his opportunity to converse with a father figure - something that, as a man, he'd come to appreciate— died with him. With this admittance, the hole that he felt forming earlier grew bigger.
You're a selfish bastard, Severus. You've got enough people to talk to. You've got Hermione, at least until her parents come back.
Severus felt more bile burning his throat as that last thought entered his mind. When he'd spoken about Hermione's parents earlier, he'd felt a nagging sense of unworthiness; yes, he feared that her parents would hate him, but would they really turn her against him?
Of course they will. They'll make her see sense. They won't want their daughter involved with someone like me. They'll make her see what I really am.
It was then that he realised that the uncharacteristic tears that were tracking down his face were not for Horace, but for himself, and everybody else that his life had affected. He felt a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over him.
It's all your fault.
Severus was having trouble breathing. If he'd been wearing his cravat he'd have been loosening it by now.
Everybody leaves me; she'll leave me.
As these words sprang into his mind, he found himself propelled towards the sink in the corner of the room where he expelled the contents of his stomach.
Several moments later, a pallid headmaster returned to his dying colleague's side. Shaking, Severus took Horace's hand and leant forward, resting his clammy forehead on the bed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in that position when Minerva quietly entered the room, but he didn't move even when she supportively squeezed his shoulder. He was too busy trying to stop himself from dry heaving, and too lost in his own thoughts.
Minerva wasn't affronted by Severus' lack of acknowledgement but was rather concerned by the younger wizard's stillness. She could feel his magic pulsing and hoped to Merlin that the fears she'd voiced to Hermione earlier were not about to come to fruition.
Horace's breathing pattern suddenly changed, which startled Severus enough to look up. He was grateful that he did because otherwise he may have missed the barely audible calling of his name. Immediately, the headmaster was on his feet, leaning closer to hear Horace more easily.
"Severus," the dying man croaked; his eyes weren't focused on the wizard whom he was addressing. "I always had faith in you, my boy."
Before Severus could reply, Professor Horace Slughorn's eyes closed slowly and after another two stuttering breaths, his chest rose no more.

"Severus."
He felt numb as he stared down at the shell of his former professor. He heard his name, but he couldn't answer as he tried to quell the unnerving feeling stirring within him. He'd felt it twice before―the last time was when he'd arrived at Malfoy Manor after killing Albus, shortly before a worried Lucius ushered him into the dungeons away from the assembled maniacs―and he knew that now it had started, he would be unable to control it.
"Severus."
He heard his name again, but the voice seemed so far away.
Minerva decided to change tack, and her brusque Scottish brogue cut through the air like a knife. "Severus Snape, you will answer me, young man."
Severus' glazed, tear filled eyes whipped to hers. It was then that Minerva realised there would be a problem.
"He's gone, Severus. Let Poppy do what she needs to do. Come. Let's go to your office."
The witch touched his arm gently but Severus shrugged her off, his magic crackling. Minerva was about to call Poppy when the school matron rushed into the room.
Glancing at the Deputy Headmistress trying to usher the headmaster away and noticing tears, Poppy checked Horace, straightened and touched Minerva's hand. "Leave everything to me, but get him out of here; Stun him if you have to," she hissed, anxiously looking at Severus.
Noting Minerva's incredulous expression, she added, "All right, maybe not, but I could feel his magic from out there and, if it destabilises, I don't want it disturbing my other patients. He can thank me for saving his reputation in the morning."

Pius breathed a sigh of relief once Hermione and Narcissa had finally chosen the colours and soft furnishings for the newly renovated guest rooms at Snape Manor.
As Narcissa sipped her mint tea, Hermione said, "I'm having everyone over when the boys are away. Will the rooms be ready by then?"
Narcissa laughed; it was the first time Hermione had ever really heard the older witch laugh unreservedly. "Boys? Well they can certainly be puerile at times."
Her wizard was about to make a witty retort when Hermione gasped and clutched her chest. Pius put his hand on her arm. "Hermione, whatever is―"
"It's Severus. I need to go," Hermione panted, looking up to see her wizard's orb beckoning her.
The wizard looked to his witch. "What the―"
"He's in pain. I need to go to him," Hermione panted out.
Draco had told Narcissa about a similar incident at Malfoy Manor and she stood, leading Hermione to the living room fireplace. "Go!"
"But―"
"I'll place temporary wards and let you know how to dismantle them," Pius told her, kissing Hermione's forehead, and reiterating Narcissa's command, added, "Should you need us, just call."
Hermione nodded, worry etched on her face. Trusting the orb, she followed it into the fireplace.

Once in Severus' office, Minerva immediately began to fuss. "Sit down. Let me get you a drink."
"I don't want a fucking drink," the distraught wizard snapped.
"Don't take that tone with me, young man," Minerva cautioned, but seeing tears coursing down his cheeks, her expression softened. "I'll call Hermione."
"She will be here soon enough," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore spoke reassuringly. "I understand Horace's passing was peaceful."
Looking up at the painting, Severus blinked, trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of tears. "Albus, I am...so sorry."
"For what, Severus?"
"For...for not―"
"Ah, but I didn't give you the opportunity, and yet my death was a painless one―"
"Not for me."
"―And considering the pain I was already in...you were there for me at the very end, Severus, and I couldn't have wished for anyone better to have set me on my journey."
"But I―"
"―Carried out my wishes―"
"I killed you," Severus yelled at him before he began to break down.
Ignoring Severus' interruption, Dumbledore continued, "― as you did for Horace. What more do you think you could have done, my boy?"
Dumbledore looked down, his eyes filling with tears as Severus crumbled before him and slid down onto the floor. "You can't save everyone, Severus. I thought I taught you that. I believe you have apologised enough now. Please refrain from doing so again."
"Everybody...leaves me. You, Lily, Mum, Horace...how long before Hermione leaves?" Severus pulled his knees up to his chin as sobs wracked through his body, and the office began to shake. "I wish I'd died that night."
Books began flying from their shelves and ornaments began to levitate. Obsidian made a hasty exit.
Hearing Severus' words, Minerva felt tears forming rapidly. "Don't say that. Severus, please, calm yourself," she begged as she went to comfort the stricken wizard whilst skilfully deflecting all manner of flying objects that threatened to hit her. But as she approached, she felt a massive magical surge emanating from him and she knew she was too late. Drawing her wand, she cast a shield over herself as his magic completely destabilised.

The Floo erupted, and Hermione stumbled out into chaos of the headmaster's office.
Minerva was struggling to maintain her shield as Severus' magic ricocheted around the office, but was amazed that it didn't seemed to be affecting Hermione. "Oh, thank Merlin, you're―"
"What happened?" Rushing towards her sobbing wizard, Hermione fell to her knees in front of him and pulled him against her chest.
"Horace passed away, and Severus' reaction is as I feared."
A warm glow surrounded the couple as Hermione's magic began reaching out to her wizard's. She rocked him, stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort in his ear before she told the older witch, "I'll take it from here."
"Are you sure you can handle him? His magic is―"
Hermione growled, grasping at her chest. "I can feel his magic in here. I came back because I felt him in here. You told me that when the time came I would be everything that he needs. I believe that time is now."
"Very well, I will leave him in your capable hands, my dear," Minerva stated calmly, a sense of pride rising within her. She managed to make it to the fireplace uninjured and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
As the green flash of Minerva's departure died away, Hermione tightened her embrace around Severus once again.
"Leave us," she demanded of the incumbent portraits, knowing that she had to make Severus feel as comfortable as possible.
She ignored the disgruntled comments, flying objects and trembling floor; her sole focus was her wizard, and all else could go to hell. Kneeling up, Hermione pushed both her hands through his tear soaked hair to keep it away from his face. She was cradling his head so that she could look into his eyes, when the portrait of Basil Fronsac announced, "Only the headmaster can ask us to leave. Who do you think you are, you impertinent―"
Hermione whipped round to face the portraits and yelled, "I am the headmaster's―!"
"Ladies and gentleman," the calm voice of Albus Dumbledore cut in before Hermione's tongue ran away with her, "I believe we should do as Miss Granger has requested."
Hermione bowed her head in gratitude before Albus added, "And Hermione, my dear, I do not believe we need a prophecy to tell us who you are."
The young witch nodded as a sense of calm washed over her. She knew what she'd almost said, but for the first time she realised what that meant. She wouldn't just be Mrs. Snape or even Lady Hermione Snape. No, she would be, and was as good as already, the Headmaster's Wife. And given the affinity between the school and its headmaster―and herself, it seemed ―she knew that this was no small undertaking.
Once she and Severus were alone, Hermione pulled him to her, kissing his forehead desperately.
"Sev, look at me," she asked calmly, moving to look into his eyes and wipe away his tears, but he refused to open them. She needed to get into his mind through their connection to help soothe him further, but it only worked if they had and maintained eye contact. After another failed attempt to get him to open his eyes, Hermione yelled, "LOOK AT ME!"
Severus slowly raised his dark eyes to meet hers. They were bloodshot and swimming with tears, and his lost expression broke Hermione's heart. He hadn't spoken a word since she'd come through the Floo, and he still seemed incapable of doing so. Hermione's eyes filled with her own tears, her heart heavy with the weight of his distress.
"Sev, look at me, please," Hermione implored, but something told her that it wouldn't matter how she asked, he wouldn't be able to focus enough for their minds to meet. But she wasn't giving up. She needed to know what was going through his head so she could comfort him, and resorted to the only way she knew would get his attention.
Lifting his chin with her finger, Hermione kissed his lips. Severus seemed to relax, and as the kiss continued, her magic reached out to him and the objects, which were still flying around the room, began dropping to the floor.
Hermione wanted to see if she'd managed to get her wizard to focus for long enough to enter his mind, but as she began to pull back, all of a sudden Severus' lips crashed fiercely against hers, and he pulled her roughly against him.
Although taken aback by Severus' sudden animation, Hermione returned the insistent kiss until she felt his magic pulse erratically. "Sev, are you―"
"Please...please, don't leave me," Severus pleaded between sobs before ensnaring her in a crushing embrace.
Utterly confused, Hermione tried to respond, but Severus captured her lips forcefully, and began manoeuvring their bodies until she was flat on her back, hands pinned above her head, and trapped under the weight of his body.
She was alarmed by the fact that Severus was already fumbling with the fastenings of her jeans, unceremoniously tugging them down far enough so that he could position himself between her legs. She tried to ask him to slow down, but he silenced her with another bruising kiss whilst grinding his clothed, hardening length into the apex of her thighs.
Still feeling his tears falling onto her face, Hermione knew Severus was not in his right mind and would hate himself if she allowed this continue.
"Severus, stop...STOP!" she cried out, managing to push him up enough without resorting to magic. He'd never acted like this before, and though he could be very persuasive when he wanted a shag―as could she―the insistence in his behaviour worried her.
Initially, Severus looked confused until he saw concern in Hermione's eyes, and then his expression transformed into one of horror. Looking down between their bodies, he realised what would have occurred. Shame washed over him, and he tried to move off her as if he was being burnt.
Hermione stopped him with a simple, "No!"
Slowly, she reached up and cupped is cheek, stroking it gently before wrapping him in her arms, allowing her magic to wash over him.
After a few moments of lying almost completely still, Severus pressed a soft kiss to where Hermione's jumper had slipped from her shoulder. "I...I'm so sorry. I―"
Hermione stroked his hair soothingly. "Shhh. It's OK. I was just―"
Screwing up his eyes to stem the flow of tears, he sniffed quickly. "Did I scare you?"
"Only in as much as I felt something was wrong. I knew you wouldn't hurt me, and that you would stop if I asked."
"I'm so sorry," he reiterated in the barest of whispers, burying his face into her neck. "I...I don't know what came over me. I just remember asking you not to leave me, and I don't know I...I needed you. I can't believe I tried to force myself―"
Hermione moved to place her finger over his lips to stop him from spiralling into the depths of self-loathing. "I don't know where you got the crazy idea that I'm going to leave you from, but I'm not going anywhere, Severus. Now, do you still need me?"
Severus was somewhat appeased by her reassurance, but her question was so unassuming that all he could do was look into her glistening eyes, which were burning intently into his. His breathing was uneven as he marvelled at the woman beneath him. Rolling to his side slightly, he propped himself up on his forearm and pushed his fingers into her hair, unconsciously massaging the top of her head. Taking a moment to compose himself, he traced her mouth with his fingertips before kissing away her tears and searching her warm eyes for permission to kiss her lips.
However, Hermione pre-empted him by pushing herself up and pressing her lips to his. "You didn't answer the question."
"Yes; yes, I need you," Severus whispered longingly before their lips met hungrily.
This time they were both on the same page. Without breaking the kiss, they ended up clawing at each other's clothing, trying to uncover and touch as much skin as possible in the shortest amount of time. However, it wasn't fast enough for Severus, and Hermione gasped at the feel of cold air upon her already flushed skin. For once his impatience wasn't met with her usual annoyance. It wasn't just the lack of sex recently that spurred them on―although that helped. For Hermione, she knew how much comfort their intimacy would provide; as for Severus, he wanted to devour her. He needed to feel the connection of their magic as they made love so that he could fill the void which he felt so acutely.
Severus felt himself growing hard again, and made his need for her known by pressing himself against her core. Sitting up, Severus guided Hermione onto his lap; all thoughts of what he needed melted away as she lowered herself onto his hardened length. In that moment, there was only the two of them; two bodies and souls clinging to each other, joined in a far deeper union than many could understand. Their coupling was desperate and over far too quickly for both of them, but one thing was for certain: any fears that Hermione had, the fear that she couldn't be everything that her wizard needed, had been quashed.

After Hermione had set Severus' office back to rights and conjured a pile of cushions and a blanket to preserve their modesty―which considering they'd just made love on the floor of his office was rather like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted―the couple lounged in front of the roaring fire, enjoying the renewed sense of closeness between them.
"I never thought I'd be shagging the headmaster on his office floor," Hermione mused, kissing Severus' chest with a smirk.
"I should hope not. You were off orienteering during the first year of my tenure, and before that you only had one other option to consider," Severus teased, chuckling as Hermione cringed.
The thought of shagging Albus Dumbledore nearly made her shudder. "Oh God, don't! Well, that certainly never crossed my mind." She decided to change the subject quickly before any more unpleasant images came to mind. "Do you want a drink?"
Severus considered her question for slightly longer than she expected. "Just tea, I think," before looking at her appreciatively. "Thank you, love; for everything."
Hermione smiled before calling on Winky to bring them two mugs of tea. "I'd have thought you'd have wanted something stronger."
"Oh, I do, but that something would be at least a bottle of whisky, and I vowed after the last time you dealt with me in that state that I wouldn't put you through it again."
"So you're never getting drunk again?"
"I didn't say that," he blustered in protest, "but I do not wish to feel like my head is being beaten by a mountain troll in the morning, and then be a whining bastard when you try to assist."
"But you did make it up to me as I recall. It was just a shame we forgot to cast a Silencing charm." She giggled as she remembered how Lucius had sent them a note after said making up session at Malfoy Manor. "Anyway, how are you feeling?"
Severus snorted softly. Annoying Lucius was anything but a shame. Brushing an errant curl away from his witch's eye, he sighed deeply. "Much better than earlier thanks to you, but I still feel...the only way to describe it is empty. I'm at a loss as to why I was so affected. I'm sure all will become clear; I would just ask for your patience."
"And you have it," Hermione reassured, kissing him softly. "But we don't need to work it out now. What you need―what we both need―is rest, and then we can talk about this as much as you like. So, Headmaster, as lovely as this ancient rug is, we need to be in our bed."
"I could not agree more." Severus drained his tea before wrapping his arms around his witch, and whispered, "Hold tight."
Thanks to the headmaster's Apparition privilege, the couple found themselves in their own bed. As Hermione held her wizard, planting soothing kisses to his brow, she reminisced about the events of the last two weeks. Not much seemed right with the world, but, then again, when they were together―like this―not much seemed wrong, either.
AN2: Well, things look a bit more hopeful for the pair, and Pius and Narcissa are going to have a baby! The next chapter provides some well deserved relief...if you know what I mean!
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The Headmaster's Wife