A/N: And here's the final part of Awkward! Whew, I told you, part one and two together is a monster, lengthwise. I hope you'll enjoy the ending! And please, let me know what you think.

Part Two of the Headmaster's Wife: Years and Years.

The heavy snow was settling on her cloak, making her hair frizz and her curls spring up like bouncy metal coils. Hurrying inside Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, on a secret mission to buy Christmas presents for Severus, she was almost running in her excitement, though she also felt bad for leaving little John in the care of the House-elves for two hours. She knew, they would take good care of him, but it still felt strangely wrong to be apart from him. Still, to be out on her own...

"Ooomph!"

Smacking into a solid body, she found herself lying on the floor, her parcels spread all over, looking up into the face of Molly Weasley.

First, the red-headed witch looked surprised, and then her face darkened into a glower, her usually friendly smile turning into a sneer.

Deliberately, cruelly, Molly Weasley dusted off her cloak like she had been touched by something repugnant and loathsome, something unclean.

"Pardon me," Ron's mother said, looking down her nose at Hermione. "I didn't mean to get in the way of his Lordship's most loyal follower."

The sheer hatred and disgust made Hermione feel nauseous and humiliated. The joy of being out on her own, to do something alone, just by herself, was smashed into pieces by the looks of loathing she was getting by the employees, the customers and Molly herself. The half-circle of people forming around her became blurry, and she heard whispers: "It's Granger! The Headmaster's whore… The traitorous bitch!" Somewhere, the sound almost muffled, a vaguely familiar voice said: "Madam Snape, are you alright?"

Biting her lip, she got up, gathered her parcels and ran, barely keeping her tears in check.

Stumbling through the darkened, half-empty streets of Diagon, she wondered if she really was cut out for doing this. She was so weak, so pathetic, sniffling at Molly Weasley's despisal, not being able to handle even the smallest part of the hatred Severus was met with. Scrubbing her eyes as she sobbed, she plodded forward in the snow, until she found herself in front of a well-lit shop window, the "Healer's Help".

On display, there were medical equipment, as well as books. Her eyes fell on a book with a cooing, black-haired baby on the cover, and she felt a soft smile forming, until she noted the title. "Magical Post-Partum Depression: How to Heal Witches".

Suddenly, she wondered. This feeling of uselessness, of being less worthy than everyone else - could this be a result of giving birth? Her mind felt muddy and sluggish, but then she shook herself. Of course it wasn't. She was Hermione Granger, and she was far too rational to ever feel something like that. She almost laughed at her own stupidity, while fresh tears leaked from her eyes.

Xxxx

At home, she nuzzled the fuzzy head of her baby, seeing him quickly drink his fill from her, before he burped and promptly fell asleep. Smiling lovingly at her little son - a big boy now, almost four months old - she wished it could be this easy every time. Often, she ended up walking with him on her arm, singing for an hour or so, before John would yawn and fall asleep. Today was a good day, but she needed that. Shuddering, she tried to force the memory of Molly's blatant despisal away, as she put John down in his crib, setting it to rock gently with a spell, smoothing the covers over his tiny, but sturdy little body.

Sinking down into the sofa, she ordered tea, not having any strength left to agonize over the House-elf enslavement, covering herself up with a blanket, staring listlessly out in the darkening room. There were no more tears, just this awful, yawning chasm of emptiness inside her, staring back at her, making all that was Hermione Granger dwindle into insignificance. Everyone she had ever cared about hated and despised her, and she was useless, not being able to contribute to help Harry and Ron, not in any way that mattered. She was a failure.

Sometime before dinner, Severus showed up. He took one glance at her, before sitting down beside her. "How do you feel?" he said.

She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. He looked at her for a while, before he pulled her into his arms. "Hermione," he said, voice a little rusty: "You're not alright. I've seen it for weeks."

Nodding, she felt her eyes slowly fill with tears.

Severus stroked her arms, holding her tight. "You're under a lot of pressure, love. Besides, it's not uncommon, my sweet, to feel a little off after giving birth, there's no shame in this. Maybe you should talk to Pomfrey, getting an assessment. If she says so, I can make you..."

"No!" she barked, feeling a sudden rush of anger and an acute sense of dread. What if she was exposed as a useless loser? Pomfrey would happily chat about the Headmaster's good-for-nothing-wife, telling the other teachers what a disappointment she was, letting all her potential going to waste as she whored herself out to the Headmaster... "No, there's nothing wrong with me! I'm just tired, too little sleep. I'm fine!"

He arched an eyebrow at her, and she stared him down, anger burning through her. After a moment, he said slowly: "Very well. If so, we might as well utilize your … tiredness … in the Great Hall. Keep that expression on your face, and everyone will believe you have been abused quite badly. Even this might be worth something, in the everlasting task of keeping our facade."

Her anger left her, quite suddenly, and she felt even more drained than before. Weakly, she said: "Please, no, I would much prefer to have dinner up here."

Giving her a pitying look, he shook his head. "No, love. We cannot allow ourselves the luxury of not playing our role. You must come with me to supper. Though it's hard, it will work out for the best, tricking the Carrows and others that might be in touch with other Death Eaters. But I really do think you should talk to Pomfrey."

Xxxx

During breakfast, an owl came for Ginny Weasley. The ensuing scream was horrible, ear-splitting, like the girl howled out her very soul. Minerva scrambled down to the Gryffindor table, careening through the crowd forming around Ginny. The girl was standing upright, tears sprouting from her closed eyes, those unearthly wails tearing out of her, only stopping with each sharp intake of breath.

Hermione felt dread crawling down her spine, like a thousand small spiders. Was it Ron? Bill? Charlie? George or Fred? Maybe Percy?

Minerva gripped the girls shoulders, wrenching the letter out of her hands. When her face blanched and her thin lips quivered, Hermione knew, this was it. A Weasley had indeed died. And was it wrong to hope Ron was still safe?

The stern witch put her arm around Ginny, turning her around to lead her out of the Hall. As the great doors closed behind them, the Hall seemed eerily silent, most of the students still standing, staring partly at the doors, partly at the Gryffindor table. Slowly, whispered babbling began, the volume increasing steadily.

A sharp crack, whiplike,shot through the Hall, and her husband rose, his face an icy mask.

"There's no need to talk. Sit down."

The silence was immediate, and only the sound of boots scraping against the floor and rustled robes was heard. Every, single student looked down at their plates, no one daring to attract the attention of their dreaded Headmaster.

"More tea, dear?" he said to her, and the forced calm in his voice was evident to her.

"Yes, darling, I'd love to," she chirped automatically.

To her left, she could see the Carrows sniggering to themselves.

Xxxx

A short while later, she was on the bed, nursing again, having almost fallen into a near-doze from her lack of sleep the previous night, though her anxiety gnawed at her. Who was it? Neither she nor Severus could seem to care, but not knowing was awful.

Then Severus' voice from his office was no longer a murmur, the volume raising steadily, but she gave a start as he bellowed:

"I would much prefer if the two of you left chastisements and revenge pertaining to my wife up to me! I assure you, I am more than capable of doing that. Or maybe you'd care for a demonstration, you dimwits?!"

Whoever they were, she heard muttered "no, surely not, our apologies…" before the door slammed shut to their quarters. Moments later, Severus stalked into the bedchamber, robes in full billow.

But his face - of, his face - he looked stricken. Sitting down on the edge of their bed, he smoothed her hair away from her brow, and icy fear settled in her chest.

"Hermione, love. Don't blame yourself for what I'm about to tell you. The Carrows … they apparently witnessed you being scorned by Molly Weasley in Diagon Alley. They took it upon themselves to avenge you, to gain favour. I'm so sorry, they killed Molly Weasley."

All her breath seemed to leave her at once, and she felt darkness intrude on her vision. Panting, she whimpered slightly. No no, no no, nononononononononono… Ron, oh, having lost his mother, because of her…

And then Severus scooped her up, baby and all, and clutched her to him. "Love, it isn't your fault, it isn't."

Xxxx

The time was up, it was the middle of December, and the Marriage Law demanded their coupling. They were both sitting beside each other in the bed, naked, like they had no idea where to begin.

Severus was worried and nervous, she could tell, and frankly, she wasn't sure if she wanted it, yet. The good thing was, her body felt more like her own than last time they had tried, but still…

Between nursing, trying to get sleep, caring for her son and trying to find time for researching how to keep Harry alive, sex was the very last thing on her mind.

Still, she felt bad for Severus. He was so worried about forcing himself on her, though the Marriage Law forced them both, in her opinion.

Giving him a small smile, she said: "It may not be fabulous, but at least, we'll try to make it good together."

He sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "I'm worried about hurting you. I want you to enjoy this too, just as much as I do."

"I know," she said, turning to him, giving him a hug. "Please, use the Lubricatem spell, just to get me going. The hormones can dry me up, you know."

He nodded, and suddenly, she was slick between her legs, the brush of his wordless magic like a caress. Reaching out to his head, drawing him in, she kissed him. He made a small sound in his throat, deepening the kiss, his tongue hungry and demanding in her mouth. His hands came up to cup her breasts carefully, almost tickling her, and as her nipples tightened, the let-down reflex started.

"Merlin, this is embarrassing," she mumbled, Vanishing the milk spilling out. He just laughed, saying with amusement: "It's your body's way of telling me your lovely tits still belong to someone else. Like a sign of ´no trespassing´, right?"

"Something like that," she muttered. Luckily, the milk flow stopped quickly. He caressed her stomach, hips and inner thighs instead, and she felt a pleasant tingle starting, squirming as his hands moved closer to the apex of her thighs.

"I want your arousal, I want you to want me too," he whispered, voice gruff, as his hands parted her lips, rubbing her slit slowly.

"Mmm" she sighed, "it feels good, Severus." And it was, but she also realized, while it felt good, it wasn't enough. She wouldn't reach her peak this time. There was no point dragging this out. But how to tell him? Fake it, girl, she thought.

"Please, take me," she moaned, looking him straight into those dark orbs, her Occlumency shields high.

His throat moved, swallowing, and he scrambled up, positioning himself between her legs. As the tip of his large cock graced her opening, she barely hid her flinch. She was nervous, alright.

Pushing forward, he grunted, and she felt his intrusion acutely, like he shoved something that didn't belong in there inside her. With a push, he seated himself fully, groaning in pleasure, his eyes closed.

She embraced him, holding him tight against her, rocking her hips to get him moving, and slowly, he complied, starting to thrust inside her.

"Gods, I've missed your tight cunt, I've missed being inside you!" His eyes were closed, and his face almost contorted in pleasure.

She chuckled a little, asking, suddenly nervous: "Is it still tight?"

"What?" he stopped his movement, opening his eyes to stare at her. "Absolutely. Silly chit, were you worried about that?"

"A little," she said, knowing that she couldn't hide her uncertainty from him.

"You feel tight, wonderful and wet, like always," he said, his smile almost tender, and she felt herself relax from a tension she hadn't quite realized existed.

He started moving again, thrusting slowly, evenly inside her, grunting: "Make no mistake, little witch, you're just as desirable to me as before, birth and milk leakage are just facts of life. Your cunt is clenching me so good, and my cock loves the feeling of sliding through your silky, wet pussy lips."

As he thrust harder, she moved with him, feeling it as pleasurable, in fact very nice, but not with the hot passion and desire she remembered. His cock stretched her, sliding in and out easily, and she looked up in his face, feeling so much tenderness and caring for him. She wanted him to feel good.

"I can't hold back, little witch, I'm going to come in your cunt now, fill your pussy with my come," he muttered, sweat forming on his brow, and then he groaned deeply, thrusting hard, jerkily, eyes wide open as he shuddered, his cock pulsing inside her.

Kissing him, she stroked his back as he relaxed inside her, his rapid heartbeat gradually slowing. Pulling away after a while, he smiled at her. "Would you want my hands or my tongue, love?"

Swallowing nervously, she said: "I'm good, this was enough for me, right now."

She felt like a light went out of his eyes, and he replied tonelessly: " I see."

Flopping down on his back, she pressed herself into him, burrowing her face into his chest. His hand came up to hold her, slowly, carefully, and she fought back her tears. She had disappointed him again, bringing him pain and disturbing memories. She was a failure. Again. Not being able to manage her marriage, not being a good enough researcher to help her friends, only relying on other people's effort. She was useless. As for now, she was only a mother, not good enough for anything else. Not good enough to fulfill her own dreams and ambitions, much less his.

Listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat against his ribcage, she counted everything her husband and Minerva had done for Harry and Ron.

Yes, Minerva had been vital in securing Harry and Ron's safety, and instrumental in destroying the Horcruxes by bringing them the Sword of Gryffindor.

Yes, Severus had figured out Nagini. Yes, he had enlisted the Malfoys.

Yes, even the Malfoys had been helping out, feeding Nagini that potion.

Yes, Severus had successfully Imperio'ed Dolohov, Obliviating every trace of his manipulation, and yes, Dolohov had killed Nagini, in return being executed by Voldemort.

She, herself, had barely done a thing, talking to the Grey Lady, and recent events put her efforts even more to shame.

The Malfoy's had suddenly offered up knowledge of another Horcrux, Bellatrix bragging to her sister about protecting something important for Lord Voldemort in her Gringott's vault.

Dauntingly enough, her brave husband and the Malfoy's had Imperio'ed the mad witch, forcing her to retrieve the item, and then the three of them had Obliviated her. Her only contribution had been concocting a story the boys would believe. Minerva had visited the boys with the sword again, feeding them the lie of how Minerva's research had led her to the site of Voldemort's birthplace, Wool's Orphanage, finding the Horcrux magically hidden underneath the new house situated on the grounds.

Hermione sighed. Though no efforts of her own, there was at least only two Horcruxes to go. And the last one would be more terrible than anything else.

Xxxx

Nervously, she straightened her robes, peering at the dark hole in the bathroom. Finally, she would get to see Ron and Harry again. Ron and Harry had stolen Slytherin's locket from Umbridge, and Minerva had brought them into Hogwarts, Harry opening the Chamber of Secrets. They had decided, Hermione would be there too, when Minerva told them about the last Horcrux. Finally, she would get to do something herself, even watching Harry destroy the locket with a basilisk fang. Severus was in his office, probably pacing nervously, and he had set the castle wards to repel anyone heading for the girls' bathroom.

Entering the pipe nervously, the Chamber gaping open, she slid down, wrinkling her nose at the faint, dry smell from the large reptile that used to live down there.

The crunch of bones from the skeletons at the bottom was as expected, but still disgusting, and she vowed to Scourgify her boots when she was done, down here in this cold, forbidding cavern. Checking, the little vial was secure in her pocket.

The Lumos from her wand shone with a faint light at the rounded walls of the tunnel, but soon enough, she entered the Chamber proper. In the distance, mirrored by the water, she saw the great, hulking carcass of the basilisk. Shuddering, she tried to imagine what it must have been like when it was alive, hunting for blood. McGonagall and two tall figures stood hunched over a pile of long, white poles. Basilisk bones, she thought, but with a shiver down her spine, she realized, it wasn't. Those more than foot-long poles had to be its fangs.

A particularly loud crunch from a rat skeleton under her feet alerted the three people to her her presence, and they turned around.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, and Ron sprinted towards her, lifting her up to spin her around.

"Gods, how are you?" he said gruffly, grabbing her chin to make her look up at him. Those earnest, blue eyes searched her face, but she blinked back tears, choking out: "Gods, Ron, I'm so sorry about your Mum, it was horrible."

His lips thinned, and he shook his head. "Can't talk about it, I can't think about it, Hermione. Not yet." She nodded, eyes brimming, and then Harry shoved him away to hug her to.

"McGonagall says you're alright, but how can you be?" he muttered, crushing her to him. She winced by the harsh grip, but leaned her head into Harry for a brief moment.

Taking a deep breath, she freed herself, giving the boys a brittle smile. ""I'm alright, I truly am. Don't worry about me, I worry so much about you, what with you being hunted…"

"Yes, thanks to that husband of yours," Harry spat. "He's proved himself to be exactly the bastard we thought he was."

She shared a quick look with McGonagall, but they both knew, it was too early to tell. If the boys were caught, if Severus' position was compromised, it would mean swift retribution and a cruel, agonizingly slow death for him.

Though, she couldn't leave it completely to their imaginations. "He's good to me, and our son," she said quietly, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say. Harry's face darkened, but Ron stepped up, trying to communicate something to her with his eyes.

Seeing Harry ball his fists, a dark scowl settling on his face, Ron said hurriedly: "She's deluded, Harry, you know, she's practically a prisoner. Give her a break. Don't … just don't start a fight, when we finally got to see her."

There was a few brief, tense moments, Ron's eyes pleading with her to keep silent, before Harry's shoulders slumped. "Of course, Ron, you're right," he said tiredly, dragging his hand through his hair.

Taking a closer look, she noted both boys had become taller, thinner, but they also looked significantly older. Worried, stressed, and so much more serious than she remembered.

"You could come with us," Ron continued, giving her a gentle smile.

Shaking her head, she said: "No. My son…"

Ron shrugged, giving her an understanding look. "Right. Well, at least, know that you'll always be more than welcome to join us."

Minerva cleared her throat, and said authoritatively: "As always, I must assure you, Hermione is not in danger. Her son could be, if she left with the two of you."

Harry sighed. "I suppose you're right. And with the Marriage Law…" Suddenly, he stared at her with disgust: "Do you still have to… you know…, with him?" He made a crude motion with his hands, and Hermione blushed.

Snapping, she said hotly: "None of your damned business, Harry!"

Ron looked faintly green, but said: "With how things turned out, I'm just happy I didn't get the chance to marry Lavender. She's probably better for it. Though…"

Hermione patted his arm, feeling the coarse, rough fabric of his robe under her hands. He looked like he tried to be brave, and suddenly, she wondered if he had actually loved Lavender. And then, she felt bad, because she didn't know. She had no idea if one of her best friends were in love. Slowly, she said: "She looks alright, being married to Dean, if that's any consolation."

"Yes," Ron sighed, his eyes with a faraway look, before he pulled himself together. "Right, we're here to kill the Horcrux. Checking if using a basilisk fang can do the job too."

Hermione nodded, sharing quick glance with McGonagall. A vital check-up on feasibility of their other plan, too.

Harry fumbled with a string around his neck, and produced a heavy locket, putting it gingerly down on the floor. "Stand back," he said, picking up a long fang, and with a swift thrust, he swung it down into the locket.

A dark shadow rose with a piercing wail, swelling into immensity with an increasingly loud howl, before the locket shuddered and the shadow dispersed. The silence was ringing.

Slowly, Hermione lowered her hands, having not even realized she had covered her ears. Ron grinned infectiously, and suddenly, they were all laughing and smiling, hugging each other and patting each others' backs, even the stern Professor McGonagall.

"Another one gone!" hollered Ron, and by that, she felt her face fall. Oh. It was time.

"One to go," Minerva said firmly, locking her eyes on Harry. Her friend's large, green eyes widened, and he said slowly: "I am one too, am I not?"

"I'm afraid so, my boy," Minerva answered. Ron's face fell, and Hermione bit her lip, hard.

"So, how should I do this? Do I have to let him kill me? But who will kill him when I am dead?" Harry looked at Minerva, searching for answers.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione almost whimpered, before giving him a tremulous smile. Embarking on their cover story, she proceeded to lie her teeth off to her best friends: "You know, I live in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore told me, he had prepared for this."

The truth was far from it, because as far as they knew, Dumbledore had no plan for Harry's survival whatsoever. It was a good thing, then, that the two finest minds of the Hogwarts Professors had found a solution, no thanks to her own, meagre contribution.

"Harry, you must ingest basilisk venom. He - she refused to say Dumbledore - has prepared a potion that'll bring you back from the brink of death. Our hope is, this will return you to life, destroying the Horcrux."

"It's true," Minerva said firmly, and the boys nodded. Hermione noted, the boys seemed to accept everything Minerva said. No wonder the old witch had almost the status of Merlin in their eyes, what with all the help they had been getting from her.

Still, they were so thick, so stupid to believe in this. Dumbledore was no potioneer. There was only one Potion Master in Britain who had ever claimed the ability to stopper death, but obviously, that wasn't on the boys' radar at all.

"That's why you asked us to come, wasn't it?" Harry asked, looking suddenly young and insecure. "And you," he turned to Hermione, "you're here to say goodbye, in case I don't wake up again?"

"Yes," she whispered, tears running down her face, "but I'm sure the potion will do the trick. And I wanted to see you. To see you both," she clarified, looking at Ron too.

He looked devastated. His hands, awkwardly fluttering, like he didn't know what to do with them, his face pale, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and a simmering anger. "This is it, then?" he croaked. "Harry needs to die, and possibly, but maybe not, waking up? In this sick plan, who the fuck thinks about him, eh? Who takes care of Harry?"

Minerva sighed, saying gently: "I hope we all do, but this … this is hard. On Harry, and you Ron. And for us."

"How long have you known?" Harry said tonelessly.

"For a while," Minerva said evasively. "Dumbledore's portrait was adamant we didn't tell you before all the others were gone, though."

Harry stood still, just breathing in and out, chest heaving with repressed emotions, before he shook himself. "Alright. Do I take the antidote first, or do you administer it later?"

"Later," Hermione said, her voice shaking. She trusted Severus, she really did, but effectively, she would see Harry die. Right now.

"Pierce your skin with the basilisk fang, your throat is supposedly preferable, and then, after … after.." Gods, she couldn't say this, but she had to. "After you're stilled, when you no longer …." she broke down, sobbing the rest: "... struggling… we're to pour half of it on the wound, the rest in your mouth."

Ron's arms engulfed her, holding her, the long reach of his arms gathering in Harry too, squeezing them to him, his voice broken: "Oh Harry, you won't be alone. We'll be there with you, every step of the way. We'll feel your pain, hold you, and you can be damned sure, we'll be on time with that potion."

Harry shook with a slightly hysterical giggle, and he punched Ron in the arm, saying: "You'd better be, mate!"

Then he stepped away from them, picking up a fang, and with a grimace, he plunged it into his throat, making blood gush out and green poison trickle into the wound. Sinking to his knees, he reached out a hand to them, and the three of them hurried to his side, grasping his hands, and laying his head at rest in Minerva's lap.

It was awful. She could see his green eyes glaze over, his body shuddering, spasming, and his arms would have flailed with the pain, if Ron and her hadn't held on to his hands. His nose started bleeding, and his legs were drumming against the stone floor, his head rearing up, Minerva pressing it down. Later, she had no idea how long it took, but it felt like a lifetime, before he finally stilled, the poison paralyzing him slowly.

And then Harry's breath stuttered, and his heart missed a beat - then two - and then it stopped. Counting silently the five, agonizing seconds of waiting like Severus had instructed her to do, Hermione wrenched the stopper from the vial, pouring half on the wound, the potion making a hissing sound, emitting smoke as it met the raw skin and flesh, and the rest went into his mouth, her hands gently massaging his punctured throat to let the antidote drizzle down his gullet.

Harry lay still, deathly pale, for almost a minute, desperation and panic growing in their hearts, Ron shifting, starting to ask: "Why doesn't… Shouldn't he react to the antidote?"

Minerva snapped: "Wait!", her face pinched, worried and stern.

Hermione fought her gut reaction to get Severus, see if he had a solution, a miracle cure, something to… She couldn't do more, she didn't know, hadn't enough knowledge, she should have read more, studied harder, worked better to help Harry… Again, she was close to useless!

And suddenly, Harry coughed. Once, twice, and his eyes opened.

The relief was almost overwhelming, and she felt her eyes fill with tears, her grin so wide, her cheeks almost hurt. Harry was alive, the poison hadn't killed him, the antidote had worked…

"You're back!" Ron shouted, pulling Harry's arm, "you're back, mate!"

"Seems to be," Harry said dazedly, before muttering: "I had the strangest vision, or experience, I don't know. Like a train station… with Dumbledore…"

"How do you feel?" Minerva said, scanning his face with urgency.

"Oh, it's gone," Harry said with surety, green eyes more happy and at the same time more pensive than she'd ever seen them. "I know, I saw it. It stayed there, and I am here, free. The Horcruxes are gone. Now, it's only him left."

Xxxx

"How did it go?" Severus pounced on her, as soon she entered their quarters. "I know he's alive, I felt them leave through the wards, both of them, but…"

Smiling at him, she said: "You did it. The potion worked, he's only Harry, now. You freed him. Both Horcruxes are gone, thanks to you. The locket - and Harry's."

"Thank Merlin," he breathed, gripping her shoulders, shoulders sagging like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Crushed to his chest, she felt proud of him, for creating a solution to keep Harry alive, to save him. And then, she stiffened, hearing a soft whisper into her hair: "I've held my promise, I kept him safe, Lily."

The magnitude hit her slowly, relentlessly, like an avalanche spreading through her brain. Lily, Harry's mother. Lil… the name he had shouted during sex, so long ago. The woman who died long ago. The woman he had loved. Lily Potter.

Pain and jealousy followed, shooting through her so much faster than the slow realization. Her husband, who claimed to love her, had spent the better part of his life holding a promise in the memory of a dead witch. How could she ever compete with that?

Holding still, because she didn't want to disturb this moment for him, knowing it had to be momentous, she tried to clamp down on her emotions, force the bitter sting of jealousy down. She is dead, and he loves me now. There is no competition, you know that, Hermione, she told herself. It's Harry's mother, you fool, Harry's dead mother. She chose another man. There wasn't anything between them. You can't blame the man for being steadfast and true, holding a promise for so many years.

Hermione swallowed, her feeling of being useless growing on her. Severus had done so much, sacrificed so much over so many years, whereas herself… She, shallow and jealous creature she was, would never inspire feelings and devotion like that. There was nothing to it, she was useless.

Stroking her husband's broad back, she tried to fight her tears. Everyone contributed so much, except her. She didn't deserve Severus' love. Her own, puny feelings of caring was nothing against his great heart.

He stilled. "What is it, Hermione. Aren't you happy?"

She almost laughed. And, he was damned perceptive too. Shaking her head, she said: "I am. It's just… I feel like I haven't contributed like I should have. I've been … useless."

He snorted. "Useless? You? After all you've done?"

This time, the laugh came out, a bitter, mirthless little bark. "I haven't done anything. You and Minerva have saved the boys. I've just been…"

Fumbling at her side at first, his hand came up, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You have done a lot, much more than anyone would expect of you, Hermione. You've researched, you came up with the idea of getting information from the ghosts, you created the method of communicating with the boys, and you've been a valuable discussion partner - and all the while, you've taken care of an infant at all hours of the day. This isn't nothing, Hermione, it is quite a lot."

She looked at him, her lips quivering, and her voice came out, almost like a whimper: "But I should have done much more! Now, everything fell to you or Minerva, and I did nothing substantial. Minerva brought them all the stuff, talked to them and helped them, while you created this potion, Imperio'ed Dolohov and brought over the Malfoys to our side, secured the locket…"

"Hermione, you're being silly," he said, with a small smile. "You're an over-achiever, you know that? Do you know, taking care of a baby is considered a full-time job? And you've probably read more these months than the average seventh-year student does in a year. You, my love, you've done much more than anyone else would have managed in your position."

"It doesn't feel like I'm silly," she grumbled. She couldn't deny it, it felt good, getting validation from him. Maybe that's what she had missed - the steady rush of getting good grades, being admired for her knowledge from fellow students and her teachers, being the centre of attention together with Ron and Harry. Gods, she really was a shallow narcissist, wasn't she?

"Stop," he said, stern, but not unkindly. "Stop torturing yourself with finding faults. You've been taking care of John, being a fantastic mother. You don't have to do everything yourself, you know. You, Minerva and me, we've been a team, a good team. And we couldn't have done this without you. Be proud of yourself, Hermione, because I am proud of you. And I love you. Just you."

Stupid tears were leaking again, but she smiled at him. Severus, oh, he was wonderful. If she had told someone that Severus Snape had given her a pep-talk full of praise, no one would have believed it. But she knew, he was much more than the stern Headmaster everyone else saw. He was… her husband, her loving husband. And Lily Potter was dead. He loved her, his wife, and a man like him would never have said something like that, if he didn't mean it.

Still, there was this nagging feeling of not having done enough, of shirking her duties…

His eyes wandered over her, darkening with something primal, and she shivered.

His voice was deep and smooth, sounding like the rustle of silk trailing over naked skin: "Not to break the mood, love, but this is also consummation night. We haven't had sex over the last week, we'll need to do it tonight, and it's already late."

"I know," she whispered, feeling an almost unfamiliar trail of arousal spreading through her body, like his eyes were a heated caress on her body. She just wanted to clear her thoughts, like she needed a scolding, a punishment to validate and cleanse her feeling of having shirked her duties. Punishment…

On a whim, she asked, a heady thrill moving through her: "Will you spank me?"

He blinked, before he nodded slowly. "Yes, little witch, if that's what you need." Standing still, looking at her for a moment, his eyebrow rose. "What are you waiting for? Undress!"

She rushed to obey, almost ripping the buttons in her shirt, dragging her soft sweat pants over her hips, wriggling out of her knickers.

Her husband followed her movements, face stern, before he turned to the sofa, sitting down. Patting his lap, he beckoned her. "Come, lie down, arse up."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, her breath coming in little gasps of anticipation. Stumbling forward, she lowered herself to his lap, pressing her nose down into the green velvet fabric of the sofa. He caressed her buttocks, rubbing her thighs, and she could feel his breath coming faster.

One hand left her arse, and then it came swinging down, making an audible SMACK, leaving a burning sensation on her right cheek.

"One," she breathed, and a wave of excitement rushed to her as he said approvingly: "Good girl."

His hand reared up again, coming down with force on her left cheek, and she whimpered "Two!", the burning feeling spreading, connecting somehow to her nub, making her throb and ache.

He left a rapid series of slaps, upping her count to ten, and then he whispered hoarsely: "Such a lovely arse, your red cheeks jiggling so enticingly."

"Yes, sir, I'm happy to please you," she almost whined, rubbing herself against his thigh.

He grabbed her hips, moving her body closer to him. "Can you feel that, little witch?" he muttered, grinding his erection against her hip.

"Yes!" Her heart rate speeded up, and she ground herself against him.

"Oh no, you horny little witch, I control you now," he chuckled. "You will come when I say so, not a moment before, and you'll have to wait."

She made a small sound of disappointment, but ceased her rubbing.

"Obedience will be rewarded," he said, voice gritty, before he landed a new series of slaps on her, making her tingle all over, breathing heavily, arching her arse up to meet his hands.

After twenty, he rubbed her cheeks again, and his hand snaked down between her cheeks, feeling up her sex.

"Merlin, your cunt is dripping, " he said, his voice a little awed, his fingers probing between her lips. Stroking her gently, she couldn't help moaning, grinding against his fingers. His index finger found her hard nub, circling it, and his thumb entered her opening, thrusting inside her. She stiffened, arching her back, feeling her insides clamp down on him, her peak rushing towards her, and then he pulled his hands away, making her whine in disappointment.

"Not yet," he murmured, his hand coming down on her arse even harder than before, making her arse sting and her breath short. It felt so good, the pain and the pleasure mingling in her body, overwhelming her, making her feel empty in a good way, reducing her to a body, just a living, breathing, aching body, longing to be filled up by him.

After twenty more, setting her count to forty, he stopped, and pulled her up to straddle him. His hand at her neck, he drew her into a deep kiss, his tongue entering her with force, exploring her mouth, making her writhe on his lap, grinding into his erection.

Retreating, he growled: "Tell me what you want now, wife. Tell me!"

"I want you to take me," she whimpered.

His eyes glittering at her, he said: "You can do better, girl. Beg for my cock!"

Feeling both powerfully aroused and embarrassed - he knew she didn't use words like that, she was much to proper - she realized, that was his point, exactly. He wanted her to feel humiliated by obeying his demands.

Gasping, her chest heaving against his shirt, her nipples rubbing against him, she blushed furiously as she muttered with downcast eyes: "Please, give me your cock, I want you to fuck me, hard."

"Again, not good enough," he almost snarled, bringing her chin up, locking his eyes on her. "Look at me when you beg!"

She swallowed, keeping up grinding her core to him, feeling his trousers become more soaked by the second. "Please, sir, fuck me hard with your big cock. I want you to pound my pussy, sir."

His eyes lit up, and he lifted her up from his lap, turning her to face the back of the sofa, and the soft rustle told her he had Divested himself of his clothes. His hot skin with the coarse sprinkling of chest hair came up against her back, tickling her. One arm coming around to fondle her breasts, while the other spread her legs, and then bending her forward. She could feel his cock sliding against her folds, making an almost electric jolt course through her as he rubbed up against her opening.

Steering himself inside her with one hand at the base of his cock, she moaned as he breached her, filling her up, and his hand moved around her to play with her nub.

"You're such a good girl," he purred in her ear, hips thrusting hard against her abused arse, "taking your punishment with such enthusiasm. Your sopping wet cunt is so tight and hot, and I love to bury my dick in your pussy, fucking you so hard, my obedient, little wife. Now, you can come on my cock"

He rubbed her clit vigorously, needy little sounds escaping her throat as her body tingled all over, her nipples contracting into hard, little peaks, her clit throbbing, and then she was finally there: Her walls clenching around him rhythmically, squeezing that hard, silky cock inside her, her clit fluttering against his fingers as she wailed out: "Severuuus!"

He growled behind her, his head coming down on her shoulder as he pumped into her, before she felt him harden further, and the he gasped, losing his rhythm, pulsing inside her, spending himself.

Breathing hard, he leaned back, pulling them both down on the sofa, his tall frame almost engulfing her.

For long moments, they just laid there, just being, basking in the afterglow, and then her mind woke up again, her thoughts starting slowly to roll.

I want him to be happy. I want him to come, to feel good about this. I want him to experience bliss. I love him too, I think. That revelation hit her hard, making her almost tear up, feeling tenderness well up inside her, for this complicated, moody wizard which she shared her life with. She had thought she cared for him, a lot, but she had never thought it to be love. Clearly, it was.

Turning towards him, nuzzling his chest, she whispered: "I love you, Severus."

At that, he stilled, his arms strengthening his grip on her body almost convulsively. "You do?" his voice was almost broken, a croak, and she nodded, breathing her confirmation: "I do."

xxxx

Christmas had passed, and she sat alone on New Years Eve, waiting for Severus to return from the Dark Lord. She had been given leave to not attend the monster's birthday this year, because of little John.

The castle felt eerily empty, most people having fled the oppressive gloom in favour of their homes, and she had taken her supper alone in their chambers, not wanting to walk through the echoing halls.

No one had said anything, but she had this nagging suspicion that something would happen tonight. They were keeping something from her, trying to protect her and John from whatever was happening. She just knew it, and Severus had looked almost shifty when he left. Unable to sit still, she had paced the tower room ever since John had fallen asleep. The worry and anguish rose in crashing waves, making her short of breath, her skin prickling, but she tried to steel herself, telling herself that Severus was safe, that Harry and Ron were probably cooped up in 12 Grimmauld Place playing Exploding Snap. Still, she was sure: Something was afoot. Something big, and she should have been there. She should be a part of saving the world. She should be there, to take Voldemort down.

The clock ticked by, closing in on midnight, and she felt dread rising in her body, almost overwhelming her. As the big clock on the Clock Tower tolled its deep, reverberant chimes, she suddenly felt peace settling in her mind. All would be well. It would be alright.

It felt like her shoulders slumped down from a great height, and she couldn't help smiling. Little John woke up, cooing softly, and she gathered the small, warm body up in her arms, nuzzling his head. The baby burped contentedly, falling asleep on her shoulder once again.

From the corner of her eye, she saw something glistening and white streaking towards their tower window. Curious, because she was suddenly sure nothing would harm her, she moved towards the window. It was a bright, shining doe, a Patronus. The voice that emerged from it was oddly hollow, but still, she could recognize her husband's deep voice:

"Voldemort has fallen. We have won, Harry killed him at Malfoy Manor at midnight. I'll be there shortly to take you to 12 Grimmauld Place."

Her breath stuttering, she clasped John in her arms, feeling a shock of elation whizzing through her body.

Soon after, the signature CRACK! of Apparition reverberated through the chamber, and Severus stood in their room, chest heaving, soot and blood streaking his face.

"Oh," she ran to him, with a soft cry, mindful of not waking the baby. "Are you hurt?"

"No love, it isn't my blood," he said, clutching her to him. "He died, Harry took him by surprise as he held a speech. Thanks to Minerva's power of persuasions, Harry believed us. The Malfoys and I was able to smuggle him in, him wearing his cloak, and he just wandered into the ballroom and killed Voldemort as he sat on that throne of his. There was no reveal, no taunting, only a silent Avada, too fast and from too short a range for Voldemort to react. Incredibly anticlimatic, to tell the truth, but very, very effective. Then, we fought our way out of the ensuing chaos, and now, we'll meet everyone at Grimmauld. It's over, Hermione, it's finally over."

He looked so relieved, so young, carefree and happy, and for herself, she felt like her face was split in two by her big grin.

Xxxx

They Flooed into the great fireplace of the Grimmauld kitchen, the silence as they emerged from the sooty fireplace deafening. The remaining Order was there in full force, glasses of wine and bottles passed around, the smell of cooking wafting from the stove, but all of them standing abruptly still, staring wide-eyed. Then their expressions came alive again, some looking sheepish, some being confused, and some looked angry. She winced by seeing the grey, drawn face of Arthur Weasley, shoulders slumping as he stood still in a corner, clutching his glass.

"Mione!" Ron shouted, launching himself at her, hugging her carefully before he touched little Johns nose, saying with a surprising and unfamiliar cooing note in his voice: "Ooh, look, who's coming to visit with mama and papa? Is it exciting, or do we scare you? No, don't worry, little one, we're all nice people, though we're noisy. Your mama and papa will take care of you, and Uncle Ron will be there, every step of the way, little boy. If my Mum was here..." his voice caught a little.

Grinning at first, she realized Ron was a Weasley through and through. He couldn't help it, babies made him all soft and doe-eyed, but her smile fell quickly at the thought of his loss. Patting his back, she whispered: "I miss Molly too, Ron." He grimaced, pain fluttering over his face, before plastering a smile on his face. "Not tonight, Hermione, tonight is a celebration."

He leaned down again, tickling John under his chin, the baby laughing and squirming in her arms.

She felt Severus shift beside her, and giving him a quick glance, she saw a look of horror pass over his face, before his features smoothed into a look of resignation. Almost giggling, she could very well imagine what had been going through his mind. It would clearly be something along the lines of: Merlin, does Weasley think he'll play Uncle to my son? Will he visit us? Gods, no… Oh well, this too, I will survive…

The small crowd started whispering, several looking uncomfortable and unhappy. She saw Ginny scowling at her, saying quite clearly to Neville: "The Carrows killed my Mum because of her. They told me in class."

Neville shook his head, laying a heavy hand on Ginny's shoulder, and said equally clearly: "Ginny, that's not Hermione's fault. She only played a part, and you should lay the blame where it belongs on the Carrows, or Voldemort. Not those two."

Hermione gave Neville a small, grateful nod, and he beamed back at her.

Everyone stilled as Harry moved forward, movements stiff as he shook Severus' hand. "Thank you, for your sacrifices and for keeping us safe. And…" his eyes dragged over to Hermione, a sour twist to his mouth: "...for keeping Hermione safe and happy."

Harry gave her a quick hug before whispering: "I should have known, Hermione. You'd never stay with him if he was truly bad."

She gave him a small smile, knowing the implication of "truly." Harry might have accepted the truth of Severus' allegiance, but he'd never forgive him for Dumbledore.

Minerva came over, hugging them both, before raising her glass: "Everyone, I've said it earlier this night, and I'll repeat it: "Apart from Harry and Ron, these are the true heroes, sacrificing their friends and reputation for saving the world. Acknowledge them - now." The willpower of the old witch poured out of her eyes, holding everyone in the room, until they all slowly, some reluctantly raised their glasses to Severus and her.

She felt Severus shift again, and suddenly, she was convinced he'd say something nasty, mean and snarky. And no wonder, considering how they had all reviled him - and her. He cleared his throat, and she stepped in, giving them all a brilliantly false smile, lying her teeth off: "Thank you. I knew you'd all believe it. You are all much to clever to not see the truth when given proof. You are all such wonderful people."

Keeping her smile up, seeing the sudden awkward and abashed faces, she fought to keep a rather bitter laugh in. They weren't ready to believe just yet. Only Harry's reluctant declaration and Minerva's force held them back from hexing her family. They didn't even believe Ron's affectionate behaviour, probably suspecting foul play along the lines of an Imperius. Maybe it would come in time, but not tonight. The situation was too new, too awkward for them to handle, being expected to embrace the man they had thought to be the second worst villain in magical Britain. But she would make them see. She would convince them all. There was no way she'd allow a continued disparagement of her husband.

Beside her, Severus stiffened at her words, before he suddenly coughed, his torso shaking slightly. Giving him a suspicious glance, she saw he was indeed laughing. Those black eyes bored into hers, pressing a message into her mind: "Oh sweet Hermione, this will be awkward. Awkward for years and years to come."

A/N: And thus "Awkward" ends. The awkwardness between Severus and Hermione is gone, but their relation to the rest of the wizarding world will still be precarious and awkward for a while. BUt don't worry: the future Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger, is on the warpath. She'll browbeat them all into acceptance. *grins*

Thank you for following, reviewing and favouriting "Awkward"! It has been a long ride, with an unexpected long hibernation as Voldemort took over my mind (lol!) with my story "Tom, just Tom." I've enjoyed the slow development of "Awkward", growing from a oneshot to a long story, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it too.