Everything pertaining to the Harry Potter universe is owned by JK Rowling. I am merely a humble scribe worshiping at her altar.

This story is set in an AU in which Severus and Dumbledore (as well as various other characters) survive. I am sorry if this upsets you, but this is, after all, my happy fun time. Please let me know if you have any suggestions; I am always open to a critique. It features a romance between SS and an American OC. Lemons abound, be patient with me this is my first fanfic.

Chapter 1

HONK!, a horn blared.

"Oy, learn how to bloody drive you prick!"

Severus started, dropping the volume of Potions Weekly he had been reading before he had dozed off. It was a warm summer, and he had just returned to Spinner's End after a seemingly endless term. One day bore into the next with predictable tedium, that is, until this morning.

He stood up from the worn leather chair and looked out of his dusty window at the house next door. It had been vacant for a year; the old woman who had lived there had died the previous summer amidst the cobwebs and cats that shared her home. He had rarely seen her, as he typically flooed in and only occasionally left the house by the front door for a short walk when he was unable to bear the warm cloister of his study.

He watched as the driver of a van made rude gestures to another workman in a truck, who had parked in the middle of the road while unloading what looked to be, he supposed, carpentry tools. It made him look around his own dusty room with a somewhat dissatisfied eye. He, like his deceased neighbor, had rarely taken the time to keep up his home. He realized that sooner or later he would need to take pains to keep the place livable before it fell apart.

He looked out the window and noticed the workers stripping the paint from the exterior and hauling out what looked to be a rather dusty and moth eaten floor covering. He lifted his wide palm to his chin and stroked long masculine fingers across his angular cheek. Perhaps it was time to do something with the galleons that had accumulated in his vault. He had been richly rewarded for his role in the war. Though he was still mistrusted by many in the wizarding community, his friendship with Dumbledore and the word of such a renowned wizard had gone a long way to convincing many of his steadfast fight for the downfall of Voldemort. After the trial, he had been exhonerated; the details of his counter espionage reviled, and he had been given a large sum in recompense for his years of service to the wizarding community. The word of Harry Potter has also helped to reestablish his standing as well.

Well, if efforts were being made to rehabilitate Spinner's End, perhaps he should spend some of his own money to make the place more comfortable? The money was just moldering in that Goblin sinkhole after all. He may as well use some of it to maintain his home. He decided to pay a visit to Diagon Alley the next morning and hire the services of a home maintenance wizard.

He continued to watch as the muggles brought load after load of refuse, drywall, and dilapidated furnishings from the home. Some of the furniture looked to be in decent condition, if a little worse for the wear. They seemed to be setting some pieces aside and covering them with heavy tarps. Severus sat back down in his chair and returned his dark eyes to the pages of the magazine wondering who was moving into the home. Would he have to deal with noisy neighbors or, Merlin forbid , a family with rowdy children? He shivered with revulsion; children, he thought. Merlin be merciful.

The next morning found the muggle workers busy reclaiming the house next door. Severus finished his morning absolutions and walked down the creaking stairs to his rather shabby kitchen. He made a pot of tea and opened the cupboard to find a slightly stale loaf of bread. Well, stale toast for breakfast again. While he was a master in the potions lab, he had never quite adapted himself to maneuvering in a kitchen, preferring to subsist on whatever he could scrounge up. Consequently, he found his rangy frame typically thinned out further over the Summer holidays. Typically he popped into Hogwarts when he tired of toast and tea and required real sustenance. Occasionally he would walk up the street to a local muggle pub and grab a bite to eat. He often brought these meals home and deposited the remainder of the greasy meal in his refrigerated cupboard; these leavings would be eaten the following day.

While he cared little for his nutritional health; Severus was rather fastidious about his appearance. Though, ask any student and they would tell you that he was the greasy git of the dungeon. It was hopeless really, he washed his hair, used cleansing potions, scrubbed his teeth regularly, and kept his clothing startched, pressed, and in excellent order. He looked in the mirror to the same homely face each day. "Why bother?" he thought, but the idea of walking around unkempt and dirty made him sneer. It was the sort of behavior he associated with rag-tag men like Remus Lupin.

He sneered, which did little to improve the visage glaring back at him in the mirror.

It was warm, and he would forgo his usual frockcoat in preference for a vest which he wore over a crisp white shirt. He rolled up the cuffs of the shirt over his forearm, and he glanced to the spot where the dark mark had been. It was gone; it has disappeared the day Potter had killed the Dark Lord. While he would never be close, he respected the young wizard and was grateful for his triumph over Voldemort. He was thankful that he no longer had to look at a dark reminder of all of his failings. He remembered those without such a memento.

He looked into the mirror one last time, looked into dark eyes, a furrowed brow, and stern lips that tugged into a frown. No, he would likely never be rid of the mark that the years of his service to the Dark Lord and then Dumbledore had wrought upon him, but it was no less than he disserved. It wasn't as if he would have won any prizes for beauty as a young man, regardless of the way the years had ravaged his face. He pulled on the collar of his shirt, but it did little to hide the scar that Nagani's attack had left upon him. Madam Pomfrey had given him a unguent to take away most of the scarring, but he had refused to use it. It was a reminder to him of the mistake he had made so long ago as a foolish boy, turning to the dark seeking glory and acceptance. It was a physical mark of the damage such associations had inflicted on his soul. Like Victorian literary characters of old, he had sought reclamation in the guise of Albus Dumbledoor, but he knew he would never allow himself to forget this burden, his shame.

"Enough!" his deep baritone reverberated though the small bathroom. Time enough for such pitiful musings later. He had things to do.

Diagon Alley was rife with young wizards, many couples, out enjoying the warm summer day. Severus drew his long fingers out of his pocket and withdrew a crisp white hankerchief, which he dabbed over his face. The air was warm and close. He walked past Flourish and Blotts and down the lane to Hendelman's Household Furnishing and Repairs. He stepped into the establishment and was buffeted by a blast of cool air. He sighed. His dark eyes looked over the furniture that filled the store and spotted an elderly gentleman behind a counter.

"Ahh, and how can I help you today" the elderly wizard asked.

"I would like to acquire the services of a home maintenance wizard. My home is in need of extensive repairs." He stated brusquely. He stood ramrod straight in the entrance until the elderly wizard beckoned him with a swish of his wrinkled hand.

"Are you in need of any furnishings?" the man inquired.

"I, um, well I suppose a few pieces might be in order." He stumbled over his words. His brow furrowed in consternation. Gads but he detested this sort of thing. Severus looked out over the various couches and armchairs thinking about the rather worn and faded appearance of his furniture. It had been the furniture his mother had purchased when she had been a young and hopeful bride. The pieces only reminded him of his dreary, unhappy childhood. He decided to find a few new comfortable items to make his study more comfortable.

Mr. Hendelman cleared his throat loudly and a young witch peeked out of a doorway behind the counter. She was a thin busty blond with too much lipstick and too much rouge, and her smile was not reflected in her eyes as she took in his tall rangy frame, lank hair, and stern expression. She stepped out onto the showroom floor clearly intending to lead him to the more expensive pieces.

"I'd like something serviceable, of good quality, and moderate price." He groused.

"Well, I think you'll find these pieces to be quite fine" she tittered and pointed to several overstuffed couches covered in a gaudy velvet.

He rolled his eyes at her affectation. Hell… he was in hell.

"I think not" his dark eyes bored into her. Oh if Minerva could see this she would be in hysterics. Severus Snape picking out furniture. Thank Merlin he had not run into anyone he knew on his way into this establishment.

"Oh" she sidled up to him "but don't you think the velvet is quite luxurious" she purred.

His hooded eyes looked down at her and he snorted.

"If you are not going to show me something a little more serviceable then I am going to leave. A couch covered in velvet is not going to stand the wear and tear of time. I'd like something more durable and less showy." His eyes roamed over her with distaste and then flicked to the showroom floor. Like that.

He pointed to a simple cotton damask covered sofa with clean lines and a simple tan and brown pattern.

"Of course" she frowned , her red lips pulling down.

She looked as ridiculous as the loud sofa she stood beside. Her bright robes and brassy hair made his eyes ache. He rubbed his temple with the deft, precise fingers of his hand, pinched his nose, and prayed to Merlin that this would be over soon.

He exhaled, thinking that maybe this notion to update his furniture was an exercise in self flagellation.

An hour later he stood at the counter as Mr. Hendelman handed him a sales slip. He would go to Gringotts and get the funds needed to cover the cost as well as the estimate of the repairs and updates he has requisitioned for his home. The handi-wizard would stop by tomorrow to refinish the floors throughout the house as well as the shelves in his study. He knew a couple of painting charms that would allow him to update the cabinets in his kitchen as well as the exterior and shutters, but he required the help of a professional to install the simple tiles on the kitchen floor. He decided against reglazing the tiles in his bathroom; it could wait for another day. He was ready to leave. He did, however, splurge on a new mattress for his bed and new bedding as well. He chose simple curtains for all of the rooms keeping to neutral colors without patterns; serviceable was his motto for the day.

When he arrived home, he was pleased that he had accomplished so much, but he was not looking forward to the intrusion of the handi-wizard tomorrow. He went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror at the worn, harried visage that glared back at him. He frowned, opened the cupboard by the sink, grabbed a small crystal flask, and threw back his head downing a much needed pain potion.

He raked his teeth across his lips as he swallowed the bitter brew.

"Well Severus," he mused, "wouldn't mother be proud." He snorted, rolled his eyes at the absurdity of talking to one's self. "I really need to get out more." He thought.

Little did he know that his life was about to change, rather abruptly.