Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does, and I make no money from this story.

A/N: Welcome! The story before this was But Wear the Chain, and it picks up right after book seven ends, ignoring the epilogue. You may need to read that first to understand later parts, but I will try to make things clear enough you don't have to. This will come in much shorter chapters than the last, hopefully frequently. All feedback and reviews are welcome. This is a HGSS story, just so you know.

Like the Night

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes"- Byron.

Chapter One: One Evening

One evening, Hermione laid on her back like cat. The maroon throw fell off her legs, sliding halfway onto the floor as she repositioned. She could not recover herself because she had a fat book clasp in her hands. Without a word, Severus came to her rescue, picking up the blanket and recovering her. Sparing a glance up from the pages, she smiled in gratitude.

"How is it?" He asked, taking his own seat.

The fire was lit, even though it was early spring. Severus would not admit it because he was self-conscious about his age, but he grew cold easier than he used to and liked the fire. She did not mind. The rain outside cooled the air, and she enjoyed the sound of the small crackling logs along with the tapping of rain on the roof.

"Not bad, actually." She said. "I think this is the first novel we've printed," She sat up, eyes never leaving her reading, "that isn't complete shit."

"Well, since you've only just began publishing novels, I'd say that isn't a bad thing, my dear."

She always felt that hint of a blush when he called her that. It wasn't often. It was usually in that tone that he used when he was advising her against doing something she was going to do anyway, like taking on the printing shop as well as the bookstore at once. But she noted, smart as she was, he also used it in private moments when he was feeling particularly fond of her.

She sighed contentedly. Her feet were warm, her hands full of a book she helped print. There was more than a little pride at that, though it came with sadness that she could not ring her mother and tell her. Hermione's life, however, that evening was as perfect as she could dare imagine it-the rain, the fire, the book in hand.

Hogwarts and her best friend were a pleasant walk away from their home, once called the Shrieking Shack, as was work in the other direction, or at least one of her jobs. In the Hogsmeade building she and Luna had moved the printing machinery into they began printing texts for Hogwarts latest professors starting with Severus' potions text. Luna's connections from her naturalist trips recently landed them the task of also printing Newt Scamander's latest book on magical creatures for Hagrid's class. Harry had begun working on Defense against the Dark Arts book and Neville wanted to pen a Herbology text, both of which were promised to her.

The school largely kept her in business. As Hermione had hoped, her stock of muggle planners she made magical, notebooks and stationary were popular with students. Since she also owned the bookshop in Diagon Alley, she could replace damaged or lost text books close by as well as sell almost every student their school books in London. She had been flooing and apparating in turns from the printing shop to the bookstore and back. Both grew tedious. But she saw Ron, Bill, Fred, and George in passing there as the older brothers worked in the neighborhood and Ron rented the flat above. It had been a while since she had seen Ginny, but the girl was busy with quidditch and Hermione was just, well, busy.

While she had always been more fascinated by reading things that were true and factual, she was so tired physically and mentally that a melodramatic story—the kind she hoped would sell to students as well as Hogsmeade's residents— relaxed and entertained her. She was thinner than before, exhausted, but content.

If she had not insisted on getting her way, she reflected, on defying the expectations and advice of pretty much everyone she knew, she would likely be sitting behind a desk at the ministry, slaving through a stack of papers. No bell would tinkle when she came in and out of work. And when she went home, it would be to any empty flat.

Instead, a few feet away sat one of the greatest men—a man who occasionally called her 'my dear' and who then wordlessly made some tea. The cup floated over to her, still steaming.

"Thank you." She said. He made some soft grunt of acknowledgement.

She had every intention of getting off the chaise and starting dinner, as it was her turn, truly she did, but the characters had just gotten themselves in a delicate situation and though she had absolute faith in the writer at that point, she was at a loss as to how on earth the protagonists would get out of it this time.

"I saw some of my former students in town today." Severus reported.

"Oh?"

"They said you looked much too cheerful to be married to me."

She laughed lightly. It took her a few moments of silence to look up and catch him watching her. She frowned. Had he said something she missed?

Yes, he had said something, only she had not missed it. The students had assumed they were…married. She supposed she should have been surprised by this, but she had not even noticed.

They lived together in the same house, home. They were lovers. They fussed over who would cook dinner and rowed over who would be invited to it. He sometimes took her hand in public, and once when they had been at the Weasleys with mulled wine, he had pulled her onto his lap. Occasionally, he surprised her with flowers. She surprised him with rare ingredients Luna picked up on her travels.

"Oh." She blushed.

He looked mildly interested then away. "Yes. You are rather obnoxiously merry these days."

"So sorry." She apologized. "I'll try to be less happy with you."

"You're happy?"

"Of course. Very happy. But I could always leave, if it bothers you."

"No need to be hasty. Maybe you could just quit your job."

"Nope." She defied from behind her book.

"One of them?" He tried in jest.

"No chance. You'll just have to get over my happiness."

"I'll endure." He said into his own open book in his lap.

"There's a relief." She tossed hers aside. "I suppose I'll make dinner."

"Oh, goodie." His sarcasm could have dripped onto the rug.

He stopped the pillow she hurled at his head with his wand hand. He did not look up or utter a word. He did not need to.

Hermione soon stood in her kitchen, the window facing across the clearing. Someone stood on the other side of the fence—the magically guarded fence with a new slew of "do not trespass' signs. It might be a student, sneaking into the town. It might be a reporter. Though it had been almost a year since they were together, both had yet to make a statement. The location itself was of its own interest, however. It might be a tourist.

Whoever it was, she ignored them. The other window included a view of the garden's corner. She pushed it open and prepared to make dinner. First, she summoned some vegetables. Severus was good enough to do the vast majority of their gardening. She said 'good enough' out of endearment. Actually, he became a downright crotchety old man and did not want any one 'messing with his herbs' and ingredients. It was just as well. The strawberries she had planted for him were the only thing she had ever planted that did not die, and she had technically cheated by getting Neville's help and using magic to save them from certain death. Severus had since taken over them as well and they were admittedly doing much better.

Still, she was determined to pull her weight around the house. Strong working woman she might be, but it was a tad embarrassing that he cooked better than she. The man was more mature and knew how to clean up after himself, so that was good. She had been upstairs to Ron's once, and it was terrifying.

Following her directions carefully, she began her work on Molly's meatball recipe. The pasta was easy enough. The sauce she had hidden in her bag—she had bought it from a muggle shop unable to make it successfully herself. The vegetables she cooked as he did, letting them cook magically, while she worked spice into the beef and tried to ignore the feeling of it going through her fingers.

The meatballs went into the oven, and she cast a glance around the kitchen, pulling out the jar of sauce surreptitiously. He'd never know the difference. No harm done.

One problem: the jar lid would not come undone. She strained, pinching her palms in the struggle. She tapped it on the counter. No luck. She panicked. She could not ask him to open the jar!

Doubling over, she put her back into it. "Ooooo." She groaned quietly, fighting the jar. It did not budge. She glared at the offending glass.

She tried wrapping her apron around the lid. A pain shot down her arm. She was NOT going to give in, though she felt a bead of sweat on her forehead. She wiped it away with floury hands and had another thought. Dusting her sweating palms with flour, she tried again to twist the lid free in one direction then the other.

There was a noise in the other room. Severus was going to come in—she just knew it! One dinner that was done properly, that he did not have to choke down politely, that was all she wanted.

She looked around, running out of time as footsteps approached. Meat cleaver—no. Screw driver—no, that wouldn't help either. Tea kettle. Jar of candy. Wooden spoon. No, no, no. The hallway floorboards creaked; any moment he'd be in the room.

Rosemary, bread, wand…

Wand. Brilliant, Hermione.

She grabbed her wand and opened the jar, poured the sauce into the hot pan with a sizzle, and tossed the empty jar at the trash can as the second Severus stepped into the room still wearing his black work robes.

"We have company." He said darkly just as the glass missed the trash and shattered on the wall beyond him. He raised his eyebrows at her in slight surprise. "I was less than thrilled myself."

She covered her mouth, eyes wide, stuck between apologizing and giggling embarrassedly.

"Sorry, Hermione." Harry spoke up standing next to Severus. "I can go." He was grinning teasingly. He didn't mean it.

"Harry!" She hugged him, flicking her wand at the mess to fix itself.

Severus rolled his eyes, his arms folded against himself. "Must you really hug him each time; you saw him two weeks ago." She ignored him.

"Of course you don't need to go." She assured Harry instead. "I've made plenty of meatballs."

"Well, er," he scratched the back of his neck. "I actually can't stay."

She knew that he was avoiding her cooking. A sandwich or pastry was one thing; that was good enough for them. She could not blame him, though. She had utterly forgotten the vegetables and Severus was saving them.

"Then what's going on?"

"I just er wanted to ask if Luna would be in tomorrow. I was going to drop off my next chapter when I take some kids into town."

"Oh, the joys of escorting little idiots to Hogsmeade weekends." Severus deep voice rolled.

"Sure. I've got to go to London." She told him.

"Okay."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

"Couldn't you have just dropped by with it? Or owled— You came all the way here to ask that?" She laughed, stirring the sauce and checking the meatballs. They smelled mouthwatering.

"No, I was walking after dinner, and it wasn't far out of my way." He shrugged, taking a candy.

She blinked several times. There was a faint possibility bubbling to the surface of her mind. But it wasn't possible. "Wait, you wanted to know if Luna would be there? Luna?"

"Yes." Harry said slowly.

"Luna?" She repeated.

"No, I'm Harry."

"Stop it." She slapped his arm. "Why do you want to see Luna?"

"I have papers to hand over—"

"Save it."

"She's just…easy to talk to, Hermione. I need to get back to the school."

"Alright then." She let him off for then.

"And don't mention this to Ron." He added.

"Sure." She guessed that was who she had seen outside. "You really shouldn't leave the grounds. People crowd that route."

Harry shook his messy hair. "I took the passageway."

"Oh." She said. The smell of smoke quickly distracted her.

"I'll leave you to it." She heard Harry say before he left rather hastily.

Hermione scrambled to get out the meatballs, keep the sauce from burning, and get the vegetables in their serving dishes. By the time she had it all together, she turned to see he had set the small table and waited, standing in front of two flickering candles. The other lights went out at once.

She felt her tired knees threaten to go out as well as his stoic features were lit; his dark eyes bore into her, but they were warm. Whatever she had been worrying about, disappeared with the light. She stepped forward feeling as nervous as she had around him before she knew him so well, how he kept his socks and moaned in his sleep when he was sick. He smoothly took the plates from her hands and set them on the table.

There was playing at his lips his rare smile. It was small and almost sad if his eyes weren't full of something else. He rubbed the white powder from her face.

She was led in a daze to her pulled out seat and sat. Strong hands rubbed into her tense neck muscles. Hermione moaned in relief.

He crossed to his seat and inhaled, steadying himself for the false gusto he would offer her. She nibbled her food, wondering why Harry felt he needed to talk to Luna, not her. Had she pushed her friends away as Ron had feared when moved in with Severus?

"This is very good, Hermione." Severus said. She had not really been tasting her food, but she knew he was lying.

"One of these days I'm going to slip veritaserum into everything." She threatened.

"It won't work in food." He was quick to tell her, which she knew. The threat was hollow anyway.

Her mind drifted to Severus. He'd asked her if she was happy. Did he seem happy? She always thought he was not the type to tolerate her presence if he did not want to, but why did he bring up the comment in town? Had it bothered him not because they thought her too young, but that her giddy immaturity was actually unappealing, embarrassing even?

After a moment, he added to silence. "This sauce actually is good. It's very sweet but tangy. Did you do something different?"

She choked on her meatball.

A/N: Hope you all are up for the ride that will follow. Please leave a quick review. Will up-date soon!