HG/SS Tidings

Author's Notes: Thanks to t_geyer for finding my mistakes, for encouragement, opinions and all the rest, especially putting up with me for so very long.

Thanks also to Bambu, who started out by skimming through these and offering reassurance. Her feedback has become one of the things that keep me plugging away at this.

The characters will never be mine, but JKR hasn't sued me for playing with them (so far).

"Can't you do something?" Hermione almost whined.

"Don't you think if there was anything I could have done that I would have done it already?" Arthur asked. "The fact is, all mitigating circumstances aside, Severus killed Albus. He has to be seen to stand trial."

"But you know he didn't have a choice! You know all the things he did for the Order, even while he was in hiding."

"Hermione, there's only your word that those things were Severus's work, and you're his wife. You're hardly impartial." Arthur sighed. "If we rush this, he could be in Azkaban for life."

Hermione did her best to smile, despite the manacles, the grey-striped prisoners' robes and the unkempt beard.

The table was so wide Hermione had to stretch until her shoulder ached just to make her fingertips reach his, but the Ministry official pretended not to see the contact.

"I talked to Arthur. He says we have to be patient. They're still trying to weed out and replace the collaborators, and they've lost some of their best people in the Ministry and the Wizengamot. It's going to be tight. If even a few Voldemort supporters slip through, they might swing the verdict."

"How're you doing?" Tonks asked, pushing Hermione's cappuccino towards her. "We never seem to see you now."

Hermione's smile didn't reach her eyes. "It's not as if I still have to pretend I don't have a home to go to."

"It's not good to be alone so much."

"I'm not alone. There's as much of him in that flat as there is in that Ministry cell."

"And Sev?" Tonks asked. "Remus tried to see him, but they said relatives only."

Hermione stared at the froth on her coffee. "He hardly even speaks. It's as if he's too afraid to hope."

The trials finally began, and as November turned to December Hermione waited outside the courtrooms every day, hoping for a glimpse of him as they ushered him backward and forward to give evidence against his former fellows.

He was clean-shaven, his hair neatly trimmed, but to her knowing gaze his robes seemed looser than they should be, and his eyes couldn't hide his inner emptiness.

There were no more visits. The Ministry claimed that it no longer had the manpower to supervise personal meetings. Hermione didn't believe it, not even from Arthur or Kingsley. She knew Severus was pulling away.

"He always was far too stubborn for his own good," Eileen Snape said ruefully, "but don't believe for a second it's because he doesn't care."

"But you're still visiting him," Hermione argued.

"Because I can bring him news of you, and he knows he'll never get rid of me."

"But he thinks he can get rid of me?" Hermione demanded shrilly.

Eileen gave a short laugh, eerily reminiscent of her son's. "I don't know what he believes. I think he hopes, if things go badly, it'll be easier for you to find someone else if you've given up on him."

"He should know me better than that," Hermione fumed.

"He should," Eileen admitted. "Deep down, I'd like to think he knows you love him too much to let him do this, but he's right when he says that according to the letter of the law, he's guilty. Even if they don't convict him for Albus's murder, using the Killing Curse carries a mandatory life sentence. He doesn't want you to grow old writing letters to a husband you'll probably never see again."

"Then he's the dunderhead. I'd rather get a letter from him than share my bed with anyone else."

"How can they do this?" Hermione railed.

"The Wizengamot has never been open to the public," Arthur commented.

"Yes, I know, and that's why they wouldn't let me in when Severus was giving testimony against the other Death Eaters, but surely they can't keep me out of his trial."

Kingsley coughed. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but they can. Unless we forfeit the right to call you as a witness."

"But Arthur said my testimony would be suspect." Hermione brightened.

"It won't convince the cynics," Kingsley admitted, "but if things are tight you might be his last hope for swinging the romantics."

"Well, look at it this way," Ron offered, trying to console Hermione as she waited to see whether she would be called. "At least they don't have the Dementors any more."

"Yes, Ronald," Hermione bit back. "I'm sure if my husband gets life in Azkaban that'll be a great comfort."

Tonks pressed some money into Ron's hand. "Go find some coffee."

"But—"

"Go! Harry's telling them, right now, about Sev's part in killing Voldemort. Kingsley can vouch for all the information he sent as Prometheus. It has to count for something."

"And when Harry tells them what happened on the tower?"

"On Dumbledore's orders, when he was dying anyway. It'd take a bunch of morons to find him guilty."

"And what if they let him out and he still won't speak to me?" Hermione asked.

"Then he'll find out he's not too old for me to put over my knee," came a clipped Scottish accent. Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway.

"I didn't know they'd asked you to testify," Tonks remarked in surprise.

"They didn't. There's little I could say." Minerva gestured with her wand and a large, flat parcel floated into the room. "However, I didn't come alone..."

"Your friend tried his best," Eileen explained, "but I'm not sure how many people listened."

Hermione frowned. "They have to listen. It's their jobs."

"Severus was never a popular man. For years, he has been portrayed as the evil traitor who killed Albus Dumbledore. Albus was their friend. They want someone to pay."

"Severus has damn well paid enough!"

Eileen smiled a sad smile. "He certainly has, but there are only a few of us who know him well enough to realise how much it cost him."

"Yes, well, one of those few is due to take the stand tomorrow."

"You are Hermione Jean Granger of no fixed abode?" asked the junior inquisitor.

"No, I am Hermione Jean Snape, and my address is the same as the defendant's."

There was a hushed ripple around the court as those outside the Order showed their surprise.

"I'd like you to tell the court how the defendant first made contact with you after you left Hogwarts," Kingsley requested.

"I don't see how that has any bearing on the charges," the woman at his side argued.

"Why don't we leave it to the members of the court to decide if it's relevant?" Kingsley suggested.

Hermione's eyes never left her husband, but Severus kept his head lowered and refused to meet her gaze.

"This is nothing but a thinly veiled attempt to introduce Pensieve testimony," the woman protested. "If that were acceptable we could have settled this matter by the simple expedient of viewing the memories the witness is referring to, but we know these things are not necessarily accurate."

Kingsley cut in. "Can we say the defendant convinced you that he had never truly betrayed the anti-Voldemort movement and that you became his agent?"

"His agent, his Secret Keeper and in time his friend."

"And as his agent, he occasionally called on you to give warnings of Death Eater attacks?" Kingsley continued.

"We had a system where he could summon me to him in an emergency. I would pass on messages when there wasn't enough time to send an owl."

"And you also introduced several very useful new spells, which the defendant developed, to the Order of the Phoenix, though at the time you had to pass them off as your own?"

"Yes. He's also primarily responsible for the Potions papers and articles I've published over the last two years. At best I've assisted."

"I don't see how this proves anything," the female inquisitor argued. "If the defendant played both sides of the fence and duped a young impressionable girl into—"

"Unlike you, I'm not easily duped. I'm just not so biased as to try to ignore the evidence in front of me," Hermione argued.

"Inquisitor Shacklebolt, even if we accept Mrs Snape's testimony, at best it proves that the defendant continued to be a double agent. It has no bearing on the main charges against him."

"Agreed," Kingsley conceded. "If there are no further questions?" He paused briefly. "The witness is dismissed."

Hermione had to be led away from the stand. Even as the members of the Magical Law Enforcement squad opened the door to usher her from the room, she looked back over her shoulder for a last glimpse of the taciturn man she had married, willing him to acknowledge her presence in some way.

Kingsley's voice boomed out, "The court calls its next witness, Albus Dumbledore."

Severus's head lifted in surprise. His eyes met Hermione's, and their onyx glitter perceptibly softened as he devoured every aspect of her appearance. The first faint glimmer of hope showed on his stunned face.

"This is preposterous," the woman at Kingsley's side protested, as Minerva walked into the room and set her parcel on the chair in the witness box.

"Madam Edgecombe, who is better qualified to speak on the subject of Albus Dumbledore's purported murder than the man himself?"

"That is not Albus Dumbledore." Madam Edgecombe pointed at the newly revealed canvas.

"Admittedly, I do not have the flesh, blood and sinews which were mine in life," the portrait confirmed. "However, I do have all the memories of my corporeal counterpart and that, I believe, is what is of interest to the court."

Hermione prowled the waiting room, stalking diagonally from corner to corner, her robes flowing out behind her.

After a few minutes, Harry rose from his seat and caught her by her upper arms. "You don't have to turn into him, you know. Dumbledore will fix it. He came through whenever I needed him. He'll do it for Snape."

"I'm sure. And just when were you going to tell me that one of the Inquisitors was Marietta Edgecombe's mother? I'm sure she won't be swayed at all by the fact that the defendant's wife left her daughter permanently disfigured!" Hermione screeched.

"All that means is she can ask questions," Ron tried to comfort his friend. "And Kingsley's in charge. When all's said and done she just gets one vote, same as everyone else."

Harry produced a small vial from within his robes. "Here, I thought you might need something."

Hermione's eyes flicked briefly to the potion before she knocked it flying from Harry's hand. "I don't want a Calming Draught. My husband's future is hanging by a thread. I don't want to sit here like a zombie while he's..." Her voice faded to silence and tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

Eileen took one look at her daughter-in-law and whisked her away to her son's Edinburgh home.

Hermione looked up in panic as she recognised her surroundings. "Severus?" she begged frantically.

"Severus must wait for one more day. It was late by the time they finished interrogating Albus's portrait. They adjourned overnight, and they will go over the evidence tomorrow before they make a decision, but I think it went as well as we could hope."

Eileen produced a handkerchief and wiped away Hermione's tears, her eyes raking Hermione's figure. "Now. When were you going to tell me the good news?"

Hermione burst into renewed tears. "You can't tell him. He can't know."

"Hermione, you can't keep something like this from him," Eileen insisted gently. "Besides, if I can tell, it won't be long before it's obvious to everyone."

Hermione shook her head. "It won't matter then. I just need to know." Hermione knew she wasn't making much sense, but in a change from her usual brusque manner, Eileen pulled her close, stroking her hair.

"My son adores you."

"Did he say that?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I believe the words were love, honour, cherish and keep. Severus is not his father."

"He's been so distant..." Hermione snuffled. "If he doesn't want me, I won't pretend. If he comes back out of some misplaced sense of duty, that's no good to me... or my child."

"I wouldn't wish my mistakes on anyone," Eileen admitted. "I know you've been hurt by the way he's acted, but don't doubt he loves you. I've never seen him happier than when you were together. He wanted the best for you, even if that meant forgetting him, but if he knew there was a child he would never let you go."

"That's exactly why he can't know."

"Have you made any plans?" Eileen asked.

Hermione gave a humourless laugh. "I don't even know where I'm spending Christmas."

"I'm sure Minerva would find a position for you at Hogwarts. It's one place you would never have to worry about childcare."

Hermione grimaced. "You mean house-elves?"

"I mean doting carers," Eileen insisted, "who'd be thrilled to take over when you needed to take a class or when you felt tired, not just house-elves."

"In December? She won't have any vacancies now," Hermione argued. "It's halfway through the school year."

Eileen gave her an enigmatic smile. "You might be surprised."

Next morning, Eileen took her usual spot in the courtroom, but Tonks, Harry, Ron, Molly, Minerva and Ginny all waited anxiously with Hermione. Unfortunately, their words of comfort sounded hollow to Hermione's ears.

Every one of them had made a special effort to be there for her, but Hermione felt lost in the crowd. She stared at the bracelet on her wrist, wishing that it would grow warm against her skin, just once, so that she would know, even if it was just the result of a moment of desperation, that Severus needed her, the way she longed for him.

Finally, the door opened, and the Ministry official came in.

Hermione leapt to her feet a little too quickly and had to steady herself with a hand on the back of her chair. "Are they ready?"

The man obviously tried for a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid I've been sent to collect another witness."

"Another witness?" Minerva demanded in her best head of house voice. "Who can they possibly want to call at this late date?"

The man looked uncomfortable for a second or two, before he came to the conclusion that they would find out soon enough. "Professor Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn looked uncomfortable as he was ushered through the waiting room. Though he managed an effusive smile and a nod for Harry, he avoided Hermione's eyes.

Barely minutes passed after he was admitted to the courtroom before the same Ministry official returned to fetch Hermione. "The court is ready to give its verdict."

Hermione didn't try to find a seat, but simply stood at the very back of the courtroom. Nevertheless, Severus's eyes caught hers as he was led back to the chained seat.

"Those who wish to clear the defendant of the charge of Death Eater activities," barked Kingsley.

A clear majority raised their hands in the air, and Hermione released the breath she had been holding. Only eight Wizengamot members voted for conviction.

"Those who wish to clear the defendant of the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Not a single arm was raised, not Kingsley's, not Moody's, not even Arthur's.

Hermione had known that according to the letter of the law he was guilty, but she had never believed that her friends would have voted against him, knowing that he'd acted on Dumbledore's wishes.

"By unanimous decision," Kingsley boomed, "the defendant is sentenced to life imprisonment."

Hermione became aware of darkness encroaching at the edge of her vision, and she clung to the wall at her back to prevent her knees from giving way. She heard the final charge as if from the opposite end of a tunnel.

"Those who wish to clear the defendant of the charge of using an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow human being."

Again, no one moved.

"The defendant is sentenced to a second consecutive term of life imprisonment."

Hermione stared at the back of his bowed head, willing him to turn around once more before they took him to Azkaban.

Kingsley's booming voice continued to echo in Hermione's ears, but it took seconds for his words to register. "After consideration of the testimony from Albus's portrait and Harry Potter, and the confirmation by an independent expert witness of the defendant's theory as to the poison Albus Dumbledore had imbibed, we accept Professor Slughorn's testimony that, at the time of his death, Albus Dumbledore's maximum life expectancy would have been no more than twelve hours. The defendant's two consecutive life sentences therefore come to a total of twenty-four hours. In light of time already served, the defendant is free to go."

Hermione knew only one thing as she was swallowed up by the members of the court making their way out, she had to leave. Whatever was to come, rejection or reconciliation, it shouldn't happen publicly.

She let the tide carry her to the Atrium and only thought about where to go when she stepped into one of the fireplaces that lined the wall. "The Last Drop."

The flat was his home now. It might never be theirs again. She needed neutral ground. She left the pub. Choosing a route that curved upward more gently than some, she began to climb.

She travelled only a short distance before she realised that her robes were drawing unwanted attention. She could Apparate home and change into Muggle attire, but she didn't want him to find her there. It wasn't just that it would give him an undue advantage. For months she had reached out to him, while he'd given her the cold shoulder. She wasn't about to present herself to him like a gift-wrapped offering that he might choose to cast aside.

Turning into the next narrow close she found, in its dark shadows she transfigured her robes into a dress and coat.

The waitress showed her to their 'usual' table. She even asked if he would be joining her.

Hermione gave a rueful smile. "He was running late. I don't know if he'll make it." As she had done so often before, Hermione watched people pass as she sipped her drink and waited for her meal, but it wasn't the same without his cynical observations. She was eating her dessert when she felt the first tingle of warmth on her left wrist.

She pushed down the urge to drop everything and Apparate to his side. Let him do the running this time.

The heat from the bracelet intensified as she paid her bill and followed the winding street down towards Waverley station, but Hermione refused to heed its call. Months of being rebuffed had their price.

As she wove her way through the lines of people waiting for buses on Princes Street, the sensation became one of pain. For the first time in years she slid the bracelet from her arm and placed it in her pocket.

By the time she made it to the National Gallery she was glad to sink onto the padded bench opposite a misty, sun-kissed dawn landscape.

The light was beginning to fade from the sky when he found her on a park bench. The wind had blown her hair into a candy-floss cloud around her face while she watched a squirrel forage in a nearby waste bin.

Relief flooded every part of him as he closed the final hundred yards between them. Surely, if she was leaving him she would have gone somewhere else entirely... unless this was goodbye.

He left a gap between them when he sat down. "I used the charm. You never came."

"Did you think I would?" She stared into the distance.

He raised both his hands to his face and rubbed at it as if to scrub away the weariness. "If I say that I hoped you would, you're going to call me an arrogant old fool, aren't you?"

"I already know you're an arrogant old fool," Hermione retorted, still not wanting to look him in the eye and find that spark of affection was no longer there.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he began.

"Yes, you did!" Hermione spat. "You meant to hurt me so badly that I'd forget every good thing about you."

"Did it work?" he whispered.

"Would you care if it did?" Hermione sighed, pushing herself to her feet.

He was helpless to do anything but follow as she walked away, his arms wrapping around her when she came to a stop, pinning her back against his chest.

"Hermione." He ground her name out between clenched jaws. "I know I was wrong, but if you tell me what I can do to make it right..."

"Tell me you love me?"

The waver in her voice cut like a knife. He spun her in his arms, looking deep into her eyes. "I love you. I always will."

She burned to believe him, to drink in the emotion she read on his face, but how could she know that the last few months were the lie? All through Hogwarts, she had believed the often cruel mask he presented to the world. Then, she'd thought that she came to know the reality behind that mask. His love had been the secret centre of her world, but almost as soon as their feelings became public, he had repudiated her.

She'd never thought about what it meant to fall in love with the world's greatest liar, until he lied to her.

Severus wanted to howl his frustration to the sky as he read the uncertainty and confusion in her tear-filled eyes. He wanted to demand to know how she could doubt the depth of his love for her, but how could he when he had done everything in his power to cultivate those misgivings?

He'd meant to kiss her, to celebrate their reconciliation, but he didn't have the right. Instead, he pressed her face into his shoulder and cradled her in his arms, whispering over and over again the only words that came into his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She knew that she should check there was no one watching. She knew it made nonsense of her wanting to settle this on neutral ground, but she just wanted to be home. Home, the place. Home, the person. Home, away from prying eyes and ears. She twisted into nothingness as she moved closer.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she ran her fingers down the door until it sprang open under her touch.

"Promise me that you're the real one. Promise me that I'm not in love with a mirage," she pleaded as she drew his mouth down to hers.

Severus swept her into his arms and carried her through to the sofa, kicking the door closed behind them. "Those," he said, indicating a heap of papers on the coffee table, "are how I spent my time in prison."

Hermione leaned over, just enough to see that each piece of parchment was either a missive addressed to her, or an ink sketch depicting her in some way: a hand, the back of her neck with her hair swept to one side, her sleeping form under a sheet, a smile.

The tears that had been threatening for so long fell freely.

Almost before her first sniffle, Severus handed her his handkerchief, more wrinkled and soiled than his usual, but serviceable nevertheless. "Prison laundry leaves much to be desired," he explained as she blew her nose and brushed away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Am I forgiven?" Severus asked hesitantly.

Hermione summoned up a weary smile. "I don't know. It hurt. It still hurts, but I just know I love you and I want things to be the way they were."

Severus took her face in his hands and kissed her with a tenderness words alone could not convey.

When his agile hands began to slip her coat from her shoulders, she pushed him away, trying to reassure him with a look, even as she shifted away from him. "There's something we need to discuss, Severus. It's important and, well, I think you'll think it's good news. I mean I hope you'll think it's good news, and I think it's best if we talk about it before we go any further, just so that we both have all our cards on the table."

"Hermione, don't you think this day has already had its share of suspense? Just tell me."

Hermione pushed herself up from his lap, keeping her back to him as she shed her coat and made her way to the cupboard where he kept his whisky. Her hand trembled as she poured a large measure until he came up behind her, steadying her grip.

He reached for another glass but she gently pushed it back into place.

"This one is for you." She lifted his left hand from where it rested on the counter and placed it flat on the curve of her abdomen, twining her fingers with his. "I can't have any."

The silence swelled ominously.

Slowly, Severus's hand began to move under hers, gently stroking and assessing the differences in her body. He nipped at her earlobe, before he whispered in his most honeyed tones. "I do hope this isn't a severe case of water retention."

Hermione couldn't bear it any more, she turned to face him. Her eyes searched his face for clues, relieved to find his lips curving upward and his eyes bright. "You're not angry?" she asked. "I know we've only ever talked about it in generalities. I forgot my potion that weekend after the battle. I think I wanted to forget."

"My darling idiot, why in Merlin's name would you think I'd be angry?" he asked. "Maybe if they'd sent me to Azkaban..."

"If they had, I'd have needed this even more," Hermione sighed.

"I didn't want you to have to struggle like that."

"Well, you're here, and I'm here, and Junior's on its way, so...?"

Severus opened his mouth and then closed it. Eschewing words, he pulled his wife close and kissed her thoroughly.

Hermione gasped for breath when Severus lifted his head. She watched awestruck as he slid to his knees and reverently pressed his lips to her stomach.

Hermione reached out and tangled her fingers into his hair. "A few months without me and your hair's as greasy as ever," she teased as she guided him to his feet again.

"I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunity for you to remedy that," Severus observed in a tone that made Hermione's thigh and stomach muscles tighten reflexively. He lifted her, so that their lips could meet without him needing to crane his neck. "Later."

Hermione wrapped her free arm around his neck, and met his kiss with equal ardour as he walked a leisurely route to their bedroom.

"Stop looking so smug," Hermione admonished, but there was no force in her words.

Severus shifted his gaze to his wife's face, though his fingers continued to trace intricate patterns on her midriff. "I believe I have every reason to look smug." His eyes twinkled with mischief.

Hermione lifted her head from the pillows to take in the length of Severus's naked body as he lay beside her propped on one elbow. "Again? Are you trying to wear out your poor pregnant wife?"

"Can I help it if I you're irresistible?"

"You're insatiable, you mean."

"If you're tired..."

"Come here."

"Are you tired?" Severus asked concernedly some time later. "In general. Have you been well?"

Hermione smiled. "Now you ask?"

Severus looked as if he might protest, but she pressed her fingers to his lips. "I get tired a little quicker, emotional, and I've had a few dizzy spells. I thought I was going to pass out when they sentenced you."

"Is that why you didn't stay?"

"Partly. I couldn't trust myself. I didn't know what I might do if you turned me away. If I fainted in front of Rita Skeeter... Mostly, though, I was just numb... and scared."

"Scared?" Severus coaxed.

"Scared you didn't want me. Scared that I'd do something to give away the fact I was pregnant before I could talk to you. Scared, if I did, that you would try to stop me leaving even if you didn't love me. Worried that we couldn't sort things out without everyone overhearing." She gave him a mischievous smile. "Scared of the look on your face if our private lives ended up all over The Prophet.

This way, that Skeeter woman can hint all she wants, but it'll be debunked the first time we're out together in public."

Severus gave a resigned snort. "I'm sure she'll have put her own unique slant on the situation." He pulled the quilt up over them and enfolded her in his arms. "Still scared?"

"More like waiting for the other shoe to drop," Hermione admitted, rolling over so that her body was spooned against her husband's. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. Was it bad?"

"You know me. Skeeter asked a lot of questions. I didn't give her any answers. But, then, I wasn't interested in anything much other than getting my things, getting out of there and finding my wife."

"So much for true love," Hermione teased. "I rank below getting your shaving kit back."

"I had to be formally discharged, you ungrateful wench," Severus retaliated, biting at her shoulder. "Besides, I wanted my watch-chain back, and I wasn't going to abandon those drawings where some guard might take them."

"That's why the bracelet never worked." She twisted to face him again. "I thought..."

"You thought I didn't need you," Severus finished for her. "Even my mother knows better. She said if I didn't get my act together and find you, it would be the worst mistake of my life."

"I like your mother," Hermione sighed. "She's a very sensible woman."

"I bet that's not what you used to say," Severus answered.

"Well, you're both a bit off-putting until someone gets to know you properly, but, if I were you, I'd worry more about Minerva. She said if you wouldn't talk to me, she'd 'skelp your arse', and she didn't know about the baby."

"She didn't mention that when she invited us for Christmas lunch at Hogwarts— My mother knew about the baby?"

"She guessed. What did you tell Minerva?"

"My mother knew and didn't tell me?"

"It's a woman thing."

"That was the alarm clock," Hermione pointed out.

Severus pulled her back into the centre of the bed. "It's Christmas. No one sets their alarm on Christmas morning."

"Eleven o'clock hardly qualifies as morning," Hermione laughed. "We need a shower. And then we've got to walk from Hogsmeade. If we don't get up now, we'll be late."

"So we'll be late."

"Severus Snape is never late for anything," Hermione argued, pushing against her husband's chest. "What will everybody think?"

"They'll think the grumpy old bastard has finally found better things to do with his time," Severus answered, smiling enticingly.

"I'm sorry we're late, Minerva," Severus apologised suavely. "Hermione couldn't do a thing with her hair."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she darted an admonishing glance at her husband, who had himself braided and dried her hair for her in two minutes flat.

"I'm sure," Minerva replied.

"It was kind of you to invite us," Hermione added. "I never had time to organise anything after the trial."

"It wasn't kind at all," Minerva insisted, "but how about we leave the shop talk until after lunch? Some good food and decent wine might make Severus more amenable."

"Amenable to what, Minerva?"

"There's no need to sound so suspicious?" Minerva shooed him out of her office. "I would have talked to you about it before lunch, but we can't keep everyone waiting."

"Minerva!" the couple chorused in unison.

The headmistress gave a sly smile. "I seem to recall in her careers interview, that Hermione expressed an interest in teaching, that's all."

"Really? There's a vacancy?" Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet, but then she sobered suddenly. "But unless there was a position for Severus—"

Severus glared at Minerva. "The board would never allow a convicted murderer on the premises."

Minerva rolled her eyes at Severus's behaviour. "The headmistress is in charge of staff appointments, not the board of governors. Besides, have either of you even looked at a newspaper since the verdict was announced?"

"W—we haven't really been out," Hermione stammered. "Has it been really bad?"

"For crying out loud!" Minerva gave Severus an exasperated look. "You might be a convicted murderer, but you're also a war hero. You've been put forward for an Order of Merlin, you great idiot! And if anyone dares to object to you being appointed deputy headmaster, they'll have me to deal with."

"Deputy—" Severus gasped.

"Don't make me repeat myself," Minerva insisted. "You know fine well that was what Albus wanted. I've had a supply teacher taking the Defence classes since the start of term, and Horace Slughorn wants to go back into retirement. That leaves the Potions position free for Hermione and you can go back to Head of House for Slytherin."

"No!" Severus insisted emphatically.

"No to what?" Minerva asked, obviously astounded.

"No, I won't let my pregnant wife risk teaching Potions to a bunch of idiotic dunderheads, when I'd rather be teaching it myself, I think," Hermione suggested.

Severus looked slightly sheepish. "That and no to being Head of House."

"Hermione's pregnant? And I thought you wanted the Dark Arts job?" Minerva asked, non-plussed.

"Voldemort wanted him in the Dark Arts job," Hermione explained before Severus got a chance. "Severus preferred Potions. Why no to Head of House, though?"

"Because I'll be damned if I'm going to spend my weekends supervising detentions and being on call for other people's snotty-nosed brats, when I could be spending them with my own."

"We will not have snotty-nosed brats," Hermione insisted. "And I'm only letting you have Potions because it is dangerous."

"So you're prepared to accept the posts of deputy headmaster and Potions teacher," Minerva checked, "but not Head of House?"

"In theory, yes," Severus agreed, "but if there isn't a position for Hermione..."

"Don't be stupid, Severus!"

"You wouldn't take the job when you thought I would be left at a loose end."

"I wasn't being made deputy headmaster," Hermione argued back.

"I don't suppose it would do any good if I offered Hermione the Dark Arts post?"

"No," answered Severus and Hermione together.

Hermione gave a rueful smile and stood on tiptoe to kiss her husband. "Take it."

"Are you sure about this?" Severus asked as he and Hermione walked back to Hogsmeade.

"Severus, you're going to be deputy head, as in almost definitely headmaster after Minerva. There hasn't been a Slytherin Headmaster since Phineas Nigellus. More than that, you owe it to yourself to see the difference it makes when you can do the job without having to pander to the Slytherins. You made me love Potions. You just need to do that for all the kids."

"You weren't a dunderhead like the rest of them," Severus argued.

"No, I was just an insufferable know-it-all," Hermione teased.

"But what will you do?" Severus asked. "You don't strike me as another Molly."

"Well, for starters, I'm going to find your old Potions book and turn your notes into a proper manuscript. I don't know why you use fifty-year-old books by Libatius Borage when your instructions are far better, and Wolfsbane should really be on the syllabus, and there must be other potions that should be included."

"I've created a monster."

"Then, if a vacancy hasn't come up by the time I finish revising the other Potions texts, I might research my own History of Hogwarts - with house-elves."

Hermione opened the door to their flat and switched on the light in the main room. She cast a critical eye over the decor, which seemed drab in comparison to Hogwarts' splendour. "I should have tried to get a tree and put up some decorations. I never even got you a present."

Severus came up behind her and held her close. "The way I remember it, you did want to go shopping at one point but I talked you out of it."

"But I should have got you something."

"I have everything I want. My freedom, our family and you."