Thank you so much to KCI Forty Seven, Velveteenbunny, One Red Shoe and delphismith at LJ for all your help on this. And thank you so much to Edolin for living virgin!Snape, ML fics, and smut!

August 1998

Severus Snape came slowly back to the surface of his mind and quickly wished he hadn't. Although his eyelids were closed, the harsh morning sunlight seeped through them. He opened his eyes just a little, and when they finally stopped stinging and watering, he was able to take in his surroundings: white room, medium sized window, high iron bed with scratchy sheets. The room had a sharp antiseptic smell, like bleach mixed with a poor attempt at a flower scent to mask any objectionable odours. He wore uncomfortable clothing that did not fit well. There was a bedside table with a few phials on it and some rather hideous flower arrangements more suitable for a funeral home rather than the sickbed. He breathed a sigh of relief when among the phials and vases he saw his wand. Not Azkaban then, must be St. Mungo's.

Trying to clear his throat and move his tongue brought on new sensations; the former burned with pain, the latter felt as if it was a stone in his mouth. His lips were swollen and felt leathery when he was finally able to get his tongue out of his mouth. His body felt as though it weighed a ton. He attempted to move his arms and legs and although they were extremely reluctant, they did respond clumsily and slowly.

Dear Merlin, he thought. How the hell did I get here? And good gods, I need to piss. His attempt to get up from bed must have set off some sort of alarm because his door burst open, and a mediwizard rushed into the room, startling Severus so badly that the need to piss was no longer an issue.

"Mr. Snape," said the curly haired elderly wizard, waving his wand to dry the bed sheets. "What are you doing?"

With a voice he barely recognized as his own, he said, "I was looking for the loo."

"Well, you no longer need one," replied the mediwizard. "Now lie back and let's see what's going on." Twirling his wand in a series of complicated looking moves, 'hmming' all the while, he finally said, "Your vitals are good, and the venom that was ravaging your immune and nervous systems finally seems to have abated. Well done! You should be up and out of here soon. By the way, I'm Healer Alswel; Edsel Alswel."

"Oh, goody," Severus replied snidely, feigning enthusiasm. He'd be out of here by tomorrow, if he had anything to say about it.

"Now," said Alswel, "let's check on the status of those runes on your shoulder."

Rune, what runes?

"Runes, what runes?" asked Severus. "I don't have any runes on my body. I never had. The only mark I have is the accursed Dark Mark."

"Well, if you look at your left arm, you can see that it's gone. But when you were brought in here, you had a series of runes across your shoulder, just about here." Alswel haphazardly patted Severus' right shoulder.

Severus took several moments to marvel at his left arm, which was perfectly smooth and pasty white now that the mark was gone. It was as if he'd never gotten it in the first place.

"Mr. Snape, did you hear me?" asked Alswel, poking the Potions master in the shoulder.

"Hmm?" Severus said distractedly.

"Your shoulder!" hollered Alswel. "I was telling you about your shoulder. The runes? Are you daft, man?"

Severus attempted to crane his head enough to see his shoulder, but his muscles were inclined to be sulky after their three month nap. "You're insane!" Severus growled. "There are no runes."

"Stubborn are ya? Here," he said. With a flick of his wand, Alswel copied the runes onto a conjured bit of parchment. He handed Severus the paper and began to point out the symbols. "We've been able to identify the runes. Beyond that, we're flummoxed as to why you have them."

"I do not recall ever having or receiving these." Severus studied the parchment a moment, wishing now that he had made a better study of the subject in class decades ago. Quietly he asked, "Is there any sign of Dark Magic?"

"We've had the Aurors in, and we even called Bill Weasley—he sometimes consults on the more difficult cases—and although we aren't sure the exact meaning of the runes, we are sure they were cast just before you succumbed to the effects of the venom, and they are most definitely not dark."

"Who would have cast them?"

"We are not sure."

"You're not sure," Severus deadpanned.

"That's what I said. I say, how's your hearing?" Alswel began to wave his wand to check his hearing, but Severus slapped his hand away.

"Stop that at once! I am fine, and I heard you. I simply can't believe that you don't know who did this. Surely with all your resources you could find a magical signature?"

Alswel bit his lip in consternation and so reminded Severus of a particular student who had been the bane of his existence. He was a bit concerned when the thought of Hermione Granger made him feel…pleased. "You're not telling me something about this, are you?" Severus asked, gesturing to his shoulder.

"Well," Alswel took a step or two away from the bed as he spoke. "We did discover a magical signature; two of them."

"And?" Severus growled, noticing Alswel's sudden reticence. At least the Healer was no longer poking him.

Alswel took another step back. "The first is Bellatrix Lestrange's." He flinched in preparation of Severus' response.

Severus sat up straighter. "Excuse me; I thought I heard you say it was Bellatrix's magical signature?"

Alswel nodded and repeated his earlier thought, "Are you sure your hearing is okay?"

"That's impossible. I happen to know that she lost her wand just prior to the end of the war. Between that time and the end of the war, I had no contact with her. Explain that, Mr. Alswel!"

"The Aurors told me that Bellatrix Lestrange did not have her original wand on her when her body was recovered. They were unable to identify whose wand she was using at the time of her death. They have been unable to discover who the owner of the other signature is."

"Bellatrix should not have been able to do magic as complicated as this." He waved his hand at his shoulder. "Everyone knows when you use another's wand it is not compatible and only gives you the most rudiment of ability."

Alswel scratched his ear, looked at it, and then bit his fingernail. "True, true. Wonder why the Aurors didn't think of that?"

"Those dunderheads couldn't find their own heads if they were up their arses." Severus sniffed.

Alswel chuckled. "Perhaps you're right, Mr. Snape. Regardless, you seem to be fine! I believe we'll have you stay just one more night and then you may leave in the morning. We just want to be sure all your muscles are functioning as well as your other bodily functions; we know your bladder still works. And…" he sniffed a bit, "you could use a good hot shower. The bath is just beyond that door." He pointed to a door Severus hadn't noticed before. "It's private, so you can take as long as you like."

Walking to the door, Alswel turned to ask, "Is there anyone we should contact?"

"You mean anyone who won't attempt to finish me off on sight?"

"Um, yes, I suppose."

"There is no one. I will return to my home and make any contacts I need to. Thank you."

With that, Alswel left Severus to it. With careful movements and much 'stiff upper lipping', Severus made it to the loo where he decided it might not be a bad idea to use the crapper, and then showered. As he washed, he wondered if all his bodily functions worked, so he spent a good deal of time experimenting with a particular body part. Yep, still worked.

He dressed and left the bathroom to find his supper had been delivered while he was busy. He fell to it like a pack of ravenous wolves, albeit well-mannered ones; he did use his napkin after all.

When he was done, he returned to his bed and picked up a copy of The Daily Prophet that had been left with his meal. He was disconcerted when he saw Granger's name again. Why on earth should her name fill him with such peace? He was asleep before he could turn to page two for 'all the details'.

-

Hermione Granger stood in the garden at The Burrow, looking for yet another errant gnome. Honestly, she thought, if I have to degnome the garden one more time, I'm just going pour petrol down into their tunnels and torch them!

She didn't mind helping, truly she didn't, but this was the twelfth time in the last month Molly had had asked her clean the garden. She gave in each time the woman asked because Molly was in pain. She had lost a son, another was suffering the effects of a werewolf attack, and a third was drowning in his own grief over the loss of his twin. Outwardly, she was willing to do all that she could for the woman who acted as surrogate mother, but inwardly, Hermione was feeling the effects of the war herself.

She had yet to deal with her own grief over those who were lost…friends, classmates, Order members. She wanted to go to Australia to find her parents, but every time she brought this up, Ron whinged on and on about how she was needed here instead.

She also carried one secret that no one knew, and she had yet to think of the ramifications of what that might mean.

A gnome biting her ankle drew her out of her thoughts. Normally one for the rights of non-human creatures, Hermione blew her top, grabbed the offender and flung him as far as she could, sending a flying hex after the helpless gnome to send him even further away.

"Good one, love," said Ron as he approached her. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss. Hermione allowed it for a moment and then turned her head. After their kiss in the chamber, their relationship took off. But three months in, Hermione wasn't so sure if Ron was 'the one'.

He had been so wonderful in the immediate aftermath of the war. He stood proudly next to her, consoling her as best he could at the funerals. He was a help around The Burrow and even helped out at George's shop while that man grieved. He was assisting Harry move into and clean out Grimmauld Place. At night, Ron would take Hermione for walks around Ottery St. Catchpole or even small impromptu picnics, watching the stars.

But it just didn't seem enough. Where was the excitement? Where was feeling she was supposed to have…the fluttering heartbeat, the burning desire to see Ron every minute of every day? There was some romance, but where was the substance?

They talked…mostly about their day and Quidditch and Ron's plans. As soon as she brought up any of her own plans, Ron would divert her with another tale of what happened at the shop or Harry's house. It seemed as though her own needs were not as important as Ron's need to feel important.

"How are you, Ron?" Hermione asked, her head resting on his shoulder.

Ron squeezed her in a sort of hug. "Tired. Let's go in the house, Mum has supper ready."

"Do you want to go for a walk tonight?" Hermione asked. Perhaps if she initiated their time together, something would click.

"Nah." The couple walked, hand in hand toward The Burrow. "I was at Harry's today, and he heard that Snape is awake."

The mention of Snape's name delighted Hermione. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Harry went on and on about how wonderful he is and what a hero he is."

"Well, he is, Ronald." She felt an overwhelming urge to defend her former professor against Ron's defamation. Why, she had no idea.

"Be that as it may," said Ron as they had reached the door, "he was and still is a git in my book. He was horrid to Ginny last year. I can't forgive that."

"There's a lot about last year we still don't understand," said Hermione, entering the house and heading to the kitchen. "Surely once we have all the facts—"

"It will still prove that Snape's a git." With that, Ron threw himself at the table and began to shovel food into his mouth.

Hermione was suddenly not hungry. She couldn't sit and listen to whatever crap Ron wanted to spew about Snape, not when she knew what she had done. She made her excuses and went to her room. Deciding on a bath while the rest of the family was busy—and an uninterrupted bath in the only bathroom in a house filled with eight people was a rarity—she grabbed her dressing gown and toiletries.

As she lay in the water, her mind drifted to her actions that night in the Shrieking Shack, and her heart felt light at the thought of the man she saved. She didn't remember feeling that way before that night. In fact, she had hated him as much as anyone else at first, but long nights in the cramped tent in lonely dark places throughout the United Kingdom had given her the chance to think. Many things about Severus Snape's actions that night on the tower did not add up. Once she managed to tot it all up, she realised many things, one of which was that Severus Snape was not all he revealed to those around him.

Relaxing further into the water, she closed her eyes and sighed.

-

Severus opened his eyes once he determined his feet were solidly on terra firma. He was surprisingly unimpressed as his home stood before him. He had expected it to be burned to the ground upon his death, but since he didn't die…c'est la vie.

It was a bit more run down than when he left it over a year ago. One shutter hung precariously from his sitting room window and there appeared to be leaflets and trash stuck among the overgrown weeds that circled the foundation.

He walked up the path to his front door and pulled out his wand, fumbling it, but caught it as it fell. Damn these fingers, he thought. He was experiencing intermittent numbness in his fingers and toes, but Healer Alswel—honestly, Severus snorted, Shakespeare would cry—assured him that it would fade with time. Managing to palm his wand more firmly, he flicked it at the door and stepped inside.

Nothing had changed. The dust was thicker in the corners, not that he cleaned it in the first place. He shuffled over to the windows and pulled open a sash and shoved the shutters open. He could have used magic, but he was in no hurry. He had nowhere to go, no place to be. He wanted to just get settled. In a day or two, he'd head to the Ministry to figure out what the hell happened and how he had gotten the runes that seemed to burn his shoulder with their presence.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that breakfast had been lacklustre. He had nothing in the cupboards and what had been there had more than likely been eaten by the mice he knew had taken residence between the walls. Many a night in the months before his 'master' had made him Headmaster, he could hear them scurrying along as they searched for food. He never killed them; they didn't bother him so he didn't bother them. They were the best roommates a person could have.

He climbed the stairs to his bedroom to change into something more Muggle before heading to the shops. He had exchanged some Galleons into Muggle money before Apparating to his home upon his discharge. He wanted to lay in a few basic food items, but would rely on take away since, frankly, he couldn't cook. Potions he could do with his eyes closed but a basic boiled egg? They're hard to clean off the ceiling when you forget you put them on the cooker.

As he was changing his clothes, an owl landed at his window. He had arranged a subscription for The Prophet before he left hospital so that he could keep abreast of news events now that the war was over. He snatched the paper from the owl, growled at it so that it would leave, and shut the window. He hobbled down the steps to the living room, dropped the paper in his chair for later, and left the house.

An hour later he returned, laden with packages that he had lightened with a quick spell when no one was looking. He quickly unpacked the groceries, grabbed the carton of curry he had bought from the chippy on the corner and sat in his chair. He took a bite of food and picked up the paper with his free hand. The headlines caused him to drop the carton on the floor.

MARRIAGE LAW ANNOUNCED!

After much deliberation, the Ministry, in conjunction with the Wizengamot, has announced the implementation of a Marriage Law effective immediately.

By the end of this year, all eligible witches and wizards are to be married, and by the end of the following year, all married witches should be with child or have given birth.

Ages eligible: Witches aged 18 to 50

Wizards aged 18 to 70

Muggleborns are required to marry a Half-blood or pureblood. Purebloods are required to marry a Muggleborn or Half-blood. No pureblood to pureblood marriages will be considered.

All couples must have produced two or more children within ten years of marriage after which time the marriage may be dissolved, if desired.

Medical examinations will be given to ensure fertility, and the use of contraceptives, magical and Muggle, are forbidden by law. If a couple is found to be unable to produce a child, they may be subject to new medical procedures that will allow the conception and birth of a child.

Severus threw the paper to the floor where it covered the remains of his lunch. As unbelievable as the idea was, he had to admit that without it the Wizarding population would eventually snuff out more quickly than it may have naturally. The Dark Lord and his minions had killed so many families and the Final Battle killed so many of the young adults who would have had families and continued the magical lines.

Severus didn't want to get married at all. He did not want the Snape name to live on into perpetuity, tainted as it was by blood and deed. Bloody fecking hell; he was within the projected age ranges and knew he must. At one time, he might have considered marriage, but the only woman he wanted to marry was dead. Was he ready to consider loving another? For some reason, he had to admit that perhaps he was. The thought startled him. He was so devoted to Lily that prior to the end of the war he'd never consider another, but now? He shook his head to rid the thoughts from his mind. He could only hope if he waited long enough, until the very end of this year to marry, perhaps the Ministry would come to their senses and repeal the law.

-

Hermione threw down The Prophet. Unbelievable, she thought. "Enforced slavery," she mumbled.

"Wha's that, Hermione?" asked Ron through a yawn. He and Harry had stumbled through the door of the kitchen. They both sat at the table where they pulled mugs toward themselves as a teapot floated over to them and filled the mugs with hot tea. Slurping his, Ron again spoke, "What's up now?"

"It seems the Ministry, in all its finite wisdom, along with the blithering idiots of the Wizengamot, have decided to enact a Marriage Law."

"Marriage Law?" asked Harry.

"Yes. It's tantamount to enforced slavery, if you ask me. Read this."

She tossed the paper to Ron, who just looked at it. With a growl, Hermione retrieved it and read aloud:

"'After much deliberation, the Ministry in conjunction with the Wizengamot has announced with implementation of a Marriage Law effective immediately.

By the end of this year…

As Hermione finished reading the article, she slapped the paper on the table and gave a small shriek. "It's bad enough to have to marry young, but to be forced to have children when you barely know the person you are marrying?" Hermione shook her head in disgust.

"But Hermione, you and I could get married!" Ron was fully awake now. "We were going to, erm I was going to ask you anyway. Whatda' say?"

"Is that a proposal, Ronald?" Hermione hissed.

"I suppose," Ron said, grinning widely.

Hermione bit her lip. She wasn't sure what to say. It would be a logical solution to the Marriage Law; they loved each other, had been friends for years. But…there was something that held her back; something that could really affect their marriage. Kissing was okay, but there were certainly no fireworks. Experimental groping was, to her mind, uncomfortable and not satisfying in the least. Ron was good natured when she shot down any chance of consummating their relationship, but she knew he was anxious to go further and wondered how long he would tolerate her reserve.

She thought back to the giggled conversations in the girls dorms where they compared relationships and the boys in their year, and to the teen magazines and trashy romance novels she had read (strictly for research, of course). Where was the overwhelming burning of her loins, the pulsing of her womanhood she had read about and heard the other girls chatting about? Where was the breathless need to take the relationship deeper?

Perhaps if she committed herself into the relationship with Ron in a more definite manner, these unresolved ideas would solidify into what she was missing. "Ron," she began, "I don't think we're ready for marriage, do you?"

Ron grinned widely in his goofy way. "Sure we are! Look at all we've gone through. If we can survive that, marriage will be a cinch!"

Hermione looked at Harry, who shrugged. "It's your decision, Hermione. Perhaps you and Ron should take a walk and discuss this? It's not a decision to be made over the breakfast table after reading something that ticked you off."

Harry was right, Hermione agreed. "Let me go have a bath and then, Ron, perhaps a long walk would be a good idea?"

Ron pulled Hermione into a one-armed hug. "Sounds good, love. Perhaps Mum will find some happiness if she knows we're going to be married."

Oh, sure, heap on the guilt, you dolt, thought Hermione. "Maybe," she agreed. "But let's hold off on telling anyone until we've talked this through." She got up and left the kitchen, her mind awhirl with thoughts.

Severus stormed through the halls of the Ministry, robes in their customary billow, flying out behind him. Several individuals leapt out of his way, and more than one Patronus floated by in a hurry on their way to inform others that Severus Snape was in the building! He waited impatiently for the lift to take him to the Department Of Mysteries. When the doors slid open, all the occupants gasped and suddenly remembered that this was the floor they needed.

Smugly pleased to have the entire lift car to himself, he quietly rode as the disembodied voice announced the levels as he passed them. He had made an appointment with one of the Unspeakables to see if they could figure out how the runes on his shoulders came to be. He had been able to further identify them based on the parchment Healer Alswel had given him. The only puzzling thing was why whoever caused them to appear had chosen those particular runes.

The old lift cranked to a halt as the voice declared he had arrived at the Department of Mysteries. The doors slid open, and Severus stepped into a quiet, black-tiled hallway. Turning left, he made his way to the office belonging to Unspeakable Kimondhataltan.

"How do you do, Mr. Snape; I'm Kimondhataltan; you may call me Kim." The Unspeakable extended his hand toward Severus, who shook it briefly.

"I am here to discuss the runes I sent to you via owl last week."

Kim guided Severus to a chair by his desk. "I've looked over the parchment you sent and contacted Healer Alswel. I understand from him that you woke from your coma with these on your shoulder?"

"Yes. Alswel and the other Healers and a well-known curse breaker are unable to tell me much beyond the meanings. I am concerned about who cast them and why."

"According to this parchment, the following runes were used: Fehu, Uruz, Gebo, and Ehwaz. What do you know about the meanings of runes?"

"Just the basics. Although I studied runes at school and during my apprenticeship, I didn't study beyond what they meant in creating a potion."

"I'll give you just highlights then; no need to go into the more in depth meanings as they may not apply in your case."

"But they might?"

"A good question, but after studying the parchment you sent me, I believe that whoever cast these particular runes simply chose them for their healing properties. For example, Fehu; whoever did this, transferred some of their magical energy to you. Uruz was used to return your life force, your physical health, organic structure, healing…your will to live, so to speak. They also used it to tap into your raw primal power to draw your healing power and survival from your core. In a lesser sense, it was used to increase your stamina. Gebo was used to bring you back into balance, equilibrium. It also means gift. Perhaps whoever cast the runes was gifting you with your life?" Not giving Severus time to respond, Kim finished up.

"Lastly, Ehwaz. We are not sure why the caster chose this particular rune. All the others would easily relate to returning your magic and physical health. Ehwaz is more….esoteric if you will. It governs trust, harmony, and loyalty. Perhaps the caster felt that it needed to be used to harmonize the other runes together. There are other meanings, but these are the most prominent to your immediate situation."

"So you're saying that it may not matter at all who cast them, only their intent?"

"Yes."

Severus asked, "Can you tell me who cast them?"

"I'm afraid not; although, my colleagues and I feel the caster was female. Some of the runes chosen are ones a mother might choose to save the life of her child."

Severus considered Kim's remark. He could think of no woman, other than Poppy or Minerva, who felt any sort of affection for him. However, he had questioned the two women about the runes, and they weren't in a position to have been at the Shack before, during, or after the death of the Dark Lord.

"The runes will stay with you for the rest of your life, I am afraid. They will continue to feed your soul and anchor your magic and health. Whoever did this was brilliant. On a more serious note," Kim said, "these marks are ones you can wear with a peaceful mind, Mr. Snape. Given the runes that were chosen and their meaning, we can safely say there was no dark intent. We will not need to open any investigation into this matter."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. If you have any further questions, please owl me. I may not be able to help you figure out who cast them, but you can be assured, they are safe."

Severus shook the man's hand and left. He had one other visit to make while at the Ministry today. An impromptu visit to be sure, but one he wanted to make nonetheless. Kingsley Shacklebolt would have the answer to his fate…would he face trial?

As he walked swiftly through the halls toward the Minister's office, he spied the 'Golden Trio'. While he sneered at the sight of his nemesis' son and his idiot sidekick, the sight of the woman sandwiched between them at once lightened his mood, but also caused a streak of indignation that someone else held what was his. This thought was disconcerting, to say the least.

It was inevitable that they pass each other and all four stopped. The boys—now men—nodded.

"Professor Snape," said Harry. "How are you, sir?"

"Mr. Potter, I hardly believe that you are truly interested in my health, but I am well." Severus was smugly pleased to see the look of anger that crossed Potter's face.

"Professor Snape," Hermione spoke, and Severus was inordinately happy she did so. "Please, Harry meant no offense. We are genuinely interested to know how you are doing."

"As I said, I am well, Miss Granger, thank you."

Hermione smiled. "That's wonderful. What brings you to the Ministry, Professor? The new Marriage Law?"

"I was here on another errand. I have no interest in the Marriage Law. With any luck, it shall be revoked before I need to comply," he answered tersely. "Good day." With that, he moved around the trio and left them, his cloak billowing in his wake.

-

Hermione turned to watch her former professor stalk away down the hall. During their brief interaction, she felt a sense of wholeness that she hadn't felt in months. Once he was gone, she felt empty again. Perhaps she was suffering from a hormone imbalance, she thought. She had been eating better since the end of the war, but for a year meals were scarce, and she had lost more weight than her already slight frame could handle. Perhaps a full physical was needed. She resolved to schedule one at St. Mungo's as soon as she could fit it into her schedule.

The reason she was at the Ministry in the first place was that she had decided to accept Ron's somewhat ill-timed proposal, and now they had to file their petition with the office of Birth, Marriage, and Death office, as per the Marriage Law stipulations. They had agreed that they would marry at the end of November, giving Hermione time to return to Hogwarts, take the accelerated 'eighth year' classes and then sit her NEWTS in the middle of that month. As it was only August, she would have time, although she would never feel prepared enough; not for the tests, and not for her marriage to Ron.

It made sense, it really did! So she kept telling herself. And it made her feel safe. After six years in school where each year meant yet another horrifying addition to the ultimate conflict that was the Final Battle, and a year on the run where they were near starvation most of the time, running on their wit's end, safety was a commodity she was not ready to give up. She was deep in her thoughts and before she knew it, they had the petition to marry in their hands.

The staff at the office of Birth, Marriage, and Death were ecstatic to be witnesses to this petition. In fact, the head of the department himself oversaw Ron and Hermione's signatures and then boldly asked Harry when he could expect his petition.

Harry mumbled something along the lines of 'girlfriend's not old enough' and 'not sure' before slinking out of the office. Hermione and Ron followed him quickly and all three Flooed back to The Burrow, where they found Molly sat on the couch, magazines and material surrounding her.

"Hermione, Ron!" she gushed, "What do you think of these colours for your wedding?" She held up a gaudy orange and red swatch of material, a wide smile on her face.

Bloody hell, thought Hermione, scrubbing her face with her hand in resignation.

-

Severus Snape was nearly giddy, although to look at him, you'd never know it. His talk with Kinglsey had exceeded his expectations. He was a free man. He would not be tried for the death of Albus, whose portrait corroborated Harry's now infamous blurting and oft repeated story of his duplicity. He would be awarded a stipend for services to the Order, but no Order of Merlin. Severus understood the reason behind that and to be honest, he really didn't care anymore. The governors of Hogwarts had reinstated his position as a teacher at the school should he so desire, and he so did, although he opted to return to teaching Potions rather than his long coveted position as Defence teacher. He thought the further away from the Dark Arts he stayed, the better.

In a much better frame of mind, he headed to Diagon Alley to do some shopping. He wanted to stop by Flourish and Blotts for a few new books, a luxury denied him in the last year, and he also planned a stop at the apothecary to pick up a few ingredients for some potions he liked to keep on hand.

The fly in the ointment of all this freedom was the overhanging Marriage Law. Kingsley had touched on this issue during their discussion. Severus had hoped to be exempt given that he was a teacher, but the Wizengamot determined that although by tradition most Hogwarts Professors were not married as a rule, any that fell within the age range must marry. Kingsley joked that Severus would have his pick of the crop. When Severus thought just what those picks might be—desperate woman eager for a semi-rich husband, or any female of age he taught in the last twenty years—he'd rather be the overlooked fruit at the bottom of the barrel.

He entered the bookstore in an ambivalent frame of mind. As he turned into one of the aisles he bumped into a woman, who dropped her books.

As the pair bent to pick them up, Severus said, "My apologies, Madam."

Standing, the pretty blond woman replied, "No worries. I should have been paying attention, but I was," she waved a book at Severus, "reading. My name is Hilary; Hilary Bendsnicely."

"I am Severus Snape."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Snape."