A/N: Well, we've reached the final chapter.

If you enjoyed this story, I hope you'll consider giving one or more of my other SSHG works a try in the near future...

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. The Sound of Music is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun.

Chapter 8

"For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should..."

"Sis? Oi, sis!" an unusually tender but equally stressed out voice called from behind, prompting Louisa to whip her head around and face her frantic addressee; it was Friedrich, who had his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward, as though he was fully prepared to take flight. "Papa says it's time to go!"

Louisa frowned forlornly at her older brother, for she couldn't help herself. That translatable sadness was indisputable, even with the shade of darkness providing their family temporary advantage; or so they were counting on. "But I don't want to leave this house," she confessed all too quietly, reluctant to move her feet one inch backward. She tried to keep any hint of a whimper at bay. "I was finally beginning to feel at home here... Weren't you?"

"Yes, of course," Friedrich confessed back, his voice slighter. Still frowning, Louisa glanced up at the front of the grand, white estate once more, her dispirited eyes landing lastly upon her bedroom window on the second floor and off to the right. A light touch against her back interrupted her morbid sentiments, its contact meant to bestow her comfort rather than despair. "I know you don't want to leave, sis; I don't either... We'll come back, I know it. Papa says we'll come back one day."

'One day'? That sounded more like 'never' in her sorrowful heart. "When?" she pined, turning to Friedrich. Sudden tears welled up in her eyes.

Unfortunately, Friedrich found himself stumped of any consoling words he might offer her but, fortunately for him, Brigitta unexpectedly crept forward from around a thick tree trunk. The comfort she, in turn, gave her siblings then sounded wise and well beyond her now eleven-years of age. "As soon as this country comes to its senses again, and it will, Louisa. Don't fret. We will come back here once things settle down. You'll see. Papa's published letter in The Daily Prophet tomorrow should do the trick."

Although not entirely convinced, Louisa ceased her moping and stepped forward to embrace her younger sister. Friedrich, too, became wrapped up in their solid, sisterly bond in front of what had been the closest resemblance to an actual sanctuary the three had ever known. Both girls still had steady streams of tears running down their cheeks as they forced themselves to turn their backs on the house at last and join the remainder of their family at the front gates, where everyone was gathered around a rumbling, tired-sounding Ford Anglia 105 Deluxe.

The vehicle's old, protesting engine, normally obnoxiously loud enough to wake an entire village, belonged to the Weasleys and was being lent to the Snapes as a suitable escape method. With a few additional, last minute magical touches, such as Severus's Silencing Charm, as well as the car's own Invisibility Booster, it was the next best option to less legal or perilous travelling alternatives, such as Apparation, which was 'out of the question' for the children (according to Hermione but also to British wizarding law, as it would track the youngsters as soon as the practice was initiated), or Flooing, which carried the potential risk of being spotted by Ministry spies.

Although reluctant to consent to using the ugly, spotty contraption at first, Arthur and Molly Weasley had vigorously assured Severus and Hermione multiple times over that the flying Ford was untraceable to the government and perfectly suited to get them as far as France. The Ministry was apparently unaware of Arthur's continued dabbling in the hobby of illegal flying muggle motor vehicles; or that the law-abiding wizard had had the balls to replace his last unauthorised flying car, supposedly lost to the Forbidden Forest years before, with a near matching replacement.

When Friedrich, Louisa, and Brigitta reached their family, they found Arthur aggressively shaking Severus's hand whilst Molly softly aided Hermione in ushering a tearful Marta and Gretl into the front seats of the car. "Thank you, Arthur," they overhead their father thanking the cordial redhead. "We owe you for this."

"You owe us nothing, Severus," Arthur waved away his gratitude with a friendly smile. "Just let us know that you've all arrived at Beauxbatons safely, won't you?"

Severus gave a constrained but well-mannered nod. Molly, who had shuffled back to the men, along with Hermione, turned to hug her former co-worker tightly. A reticent, much quieter Draco and Harry Potter, who, too, were standing by, looked on as the Snapes said their farewells. "Alfred and I will look after the house while you're away," Molly guaranteed, her eyes swimming with tears; she reached past Hermione to force Severus into a hug, too, though his returning embrace was much stiffer than his wife's. "Draco and Harry will check in on us as well. Don't worry about a thing."

"Thank you, Molly," Hermione spoke up for the pair of them, feeling her emotions getting the better of her resolve as she glanced from loving face to loving face with deep-seated appreciation. "Thank you all so much for what you're doing for us."

"You don't have to leave, Severus," Draco blurted out without warning. He leapt forward and grasped his godfather by the arm, his pale face desperate and worried, and continued to clutch to Severus despite his new lover's small, noiseless attempt to hold him back. "You don't have to risk yours and your family's safety for the sake of mine!"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," Severus returned and Draco's markedly flushed cheeks brightened, apparent even under the shield of night. "Your parents don't deserve this scrutiny, and neither do I or my family. That settles it."

"I know they don't, Severus, and I know you don't either but—"

"No 'buts' about it, Draco. Make sure that they stay well hidden and safe until this all calms down. As of now, this conversation is at an end." Draco's face fell, somewhat disappointed in not convincing Severus to stay. His downcast expression lured Severus into not leaving matters between them on such a dreadfully sombre note. He gripped Draco's shoulder, giving it a heartened squeeze. "Take care of yourself, Draco. You may find yourself unfairly targeted next by Nottingham and his idiot band of misfits. Write to me should anything go badly for you or your parents, and don't do anything stupid, do you hear?"

"I'll do my best to ensure that he doesn't, sir," Harry Potter inserted for his boyfriend, intending for his remark to lighten the mood. His tense lips moulded into the faintest smile that Severus, to Hermione's and everyone's utter shock, readily returned.

"In that case," Severus growled gamely, staring both men down as disgustedly as he could, "you're hopelessly lost, the pair of you."

Relieved to hear Draco laugh at that, albeit briefly, Severus relinquished his hold and guardedly linked his hand through Hermione's, feeling her press his hand back. It was the necessary encouragement he needed to push their family onward and, thus, catching the children's concerned faces from where they all stared on, waiting by the car to leave, save for Marta and Gretl, who now watched from inside the vehicle, Severus commanded them to get in with a simple but firm toss of his head. They scrambled into the car without delay.

For the professor, he didn't chance a parting glance towards the sentimental house that had been bequeathed back into his trust by the Princes many years ago, nor did Hermione look upon it either, each knowing full well that, should they so much as peek at its now cold, empty outline, their fragile will to leave it behind might crumble. Instead, they pressed on, unlocked hands, and scooted into the front seats of the awaiting Ford. A clingy Gretl perched herself on Hermione's lap whilst a muted, strong-willed Marta and Brigitta wedged themselves in between their parents. Liesl, Kurt, Louisa, and Friedrich settled into the rear, compacted into seats meant for two; but none of them issued a single complaint about their too tightly-packed arrangement.

All seven of those young faces—countenances whom Severus had grown to cherish as his own flesh and blood—momentarily left him bereft. From what he could visualise from the driver's seat, none had ever appeared more adult-like in their short lives. In that moment, they were, once again, not the modest, sweet-minded children he knew them to be but soldiers ready to carry on at his and Hermione's commands. For the girls, their tears had ceased. For the boys, their frowns had been replaced by respectful nods of resolution.

Severus's quiet, steadfast regard rested on Hermione lastly, conciliated by the determination in those warm, brown irises. Behind their fearless depths, however, which she had carried remarkably well since they had enacted their flighty escape plans mere hours before, he could sense her fright and trepidation about what might befall them next. Yet, she kept such angsty reservations to herself, smiled hopefully at him, and began a gentle, soft hum for Gretl and Marta, huddled against her for warmth and protection.

Severus moved the clutch into position and the Ford hoisted itself into the air, invisible and soundless to all. Its bright lights would have fleetingly swept across the faces of those whom they were leaving behind but, unfortunately, they were dull on this night. Brigitta cuddled up against her father and buried her face in his chest as they listened to Hermione's continued comforting humming of a well-acquainted muggle tune: "Edelweiss".

Liesl wasn't aware of her persistent left leg twitching until Kurt finally nudged her hard in the side. "Ouch!" she let slip and shot daggers at her younger brother, who merely shrugged at her.

"What," he countered, "it's annoying!"

"You're annoying, you know that?"

"I'm trying to get you to calm down!"

"No, you can never just sit quietly and do as you're told!"

"Quiet, both of you!" Hermione emphasised through a clenched jaw, whirling around in the front passenger seat to glare down the two.

Liesl and Kurt immediately fell silent at Hermione's warning look, their faces apologetic but their bodies on edge. Their siblings, too, appeared extremely anxious, each doing their utmost best to remain quiet as their parents had instructed. Waiting on tenterhooks for their father to return to the car was excruciating, however, and becoming more difficult by the moment. They could barely make out his lanky, fluid frame in the distance ahead as he swept and darted between trees, his silhouette mostly clouded by the dense fog that had settled in the forest where they were presently taking refuge.

It had been Liesl's sharp senses that had picked up on a trace of some kind that suggested they were being followed. She hadn't hesitated to speak up about her gut feelings as they were flying over the quaint, sleeping town of Buckinghamshire. Some of the children had nodded off to sleep by then but quickly started at Liesl's abrupt warning.

A nauseating dread had since settled into the pit of her stomach as she wrestled with her suspicions as to who might be the culprit on their tail. Ever since her father had stopped the vehicle and exited to investigate further, she had watched every window like a hawk, praying against hope that her instincts were wrong.

Hermione had (reluctantly) stayed back with the children at his behest but her perceptive, narrowed eyes, too, were focused on what little she could discern of Severus in between the hazy mist. The only sounds to occasionally break the stifling silence were the muffled hootings of an owl in a nearby tree, Gretl's or Marta's low, frightened whimpers, or a family member's intense breathing. Hermione's wand was out and at the ready, her shoulders tensed and ready to pounce from the car, if necessary. Her taut body language had lured Liesl and Friedrich to withdraw their wands as well, though Liesl kept hers hidden at her side. She hoped there would be no reason forthcoming for using it, but her tingling senses were signalling otherwise.

As Severus swooped back into view from behind a brush, a squeak of a voice startled everyone by saying, "Mummy?"

Hermione exhaled first to calm her too excited, beating heart before replying to Gretl, "Yes, love?"

"Would it help if we hummed that song again; the one about Papa's favourite flowers?"

"No, sweetheart," Hermione stressed, straining to smile for the credulous, fearful little girl, "I'm afraid this is one time where that won't help." She brought an index finger delicately to Gretl's lips. "You must be very quiet, all right? Hold tight to me."

Gretl nestled closer to Hermione, her terrified, wide eyes peeking out from behind the security of Hermione's arms to scout the dark, dreary scenery beyond the invisible barrier that was their car. She and the others watched with baited breath as Severus made another circle of the perimeter on foot, disappearing for what felt like an eternity but what was, in reality, only a couple minutes. He re-emerged to the right, closer to the vehicle than before, and Hermione's and Liesl's reflexes were instantly to raise their wands to attack, until they realised who it was.

Severus looked to be about to step over to the driver's side when sudden movement to his left halted him in his tracks. In the next instant, Severus had whipped his head sideways, his robes breezing freely alongside every agile movement he made, and crouched into a duelling position. A light shot forth from his wand, aimed towards the high branches in a tree, and then something—or someone—crashed into the thick, overrun brush below, easily becoming ensnared in its sharp twigs and pines. Severus cautiously strode closer to whomever he had struck down, his wand lit and aimed at its adversary.

At detecting a couple of heated curses that definitely didn't sound like the wizard they knew, Hermione and Liesl sprung out of the vehicle at the same time. "Stay in the car!" Hermione ordered the children over her shoulder, hurriedly plopping Gretl down on the front seat before slamming the door shut and running after her husband, wishing to be of assistance. She didn't realise that Liesl was on her heel until the two witches were standing side by side moments later. "Severus!" Hermione cried to her husband once she reached him, relieved to find that he was perfectly all right. She nabbed his arm but his attention was directed only at the tousling bushes in front of them.

"Oliver!" Liesl gasped, horrified, as the person she had feared might be following them materialised. His normally wavy brown locks were an untidy mess, full of debris, and there were fresh scratches on his cheeks and forehead from his fall; he also seemed to be limping and nursing his right knee. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you," he grumbled, wincing as he extracted some pine needles from his tattered trousers.

"A very unwise move, Mr Wood," Severus apprised the young lad in a low, dangerous purr that shot a shiver up his daughter's spine. His eyes, already dark as could be, glistened with unmitigated fury, visible even amongst the murky shadows.

Liesl would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of her father's wrath as her boyfriend now found himself to be. No, she acknowledged with inward despondence; he was no longer that to her either. Not after tonight.

"You could have killed me!" Oliver exclaimed, clearly affronted by Severus's attack; he ignored the shocked expressions of his one-time girlfriend and Hermione, as well as Severus's incensed stare.

"And it would have been your own damn fault, boy," Severus fired back, bearing his teeth in response. "What business have you in following my family?"

"What business have you in illegally exiting the country in the middle of the night right before a hearing, Professor?" Oliver, in turn, challenged him. He made a shifty raise of his right arm and it was Liesl, rather than her parents, who reacted first.

With a quick-thinking incantation of "Expelliarmus!" Oliver's wand sped out of his hand and into Liesl's, who snatched it from the air and swiftly handed it off to an impressed Hermione. The glare Oliver projected at her then was a nastiness Liesl had never recalled seeing before, and she tried not to let her emotional injury show.

"My business is my own affairs," Severus stated once he had recovered from his own shock of witnessing his daughter's masterful reflexes. "They're hardly yours, you pretentious fool! This is a free country, and my family and I can come and go as we please."

Although he no longer carried any form of protection, Oliver apparently wasn't ready to back down. He defiantly raised his chin at Severus, his eyes maddening and not withholding their rage. For Liesl, it was gobsmacking, for this hot-headed cad didn't resemble the well-mannered, strapping man who had been courting her for months. So much in him—and that hatred-tainted face of his—had changed. "It's you the Ministry wants, not them," he stated for Severus alone. "Come quietly, and your family won't be harmed."

Severus blinked and slightly angled his head, much like a wild cat might gesture when its ears have detected a rustle of its prey nearby. "Is that a threat, Mr Wood?" He glided a step closer to the unarmed wizard, his wand arm straight and pointed directly at Oliver's chest. Oliver visibly started as the former Death Eater approached him.

"Don't come any closer!" he snapped, showcasing his fright.

"Or what," Severus all but snorted, one half of his lips twisting into a lawless smile, "you'll curse me? Hex me? Overrun me somehow without the help of your wand?"

"Papa—"

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, boy."

"Severus, wait," Hermione intervened, throwing an arm across Liesl to hold the girl back when she sought to stop him.

"You - You won't hurt me!" Oliver either tried to reason or stupidly provoke Severus; it was difficult for Hermione and Liesl to judge. "You can't! You'll go straight to Azkaban prison!"

With one hand, Severus grabbed a hold of Oliver's shirt and yanked him forward in one fell swoop. Oliver struggled against Severus's impenetrable clutches. His eyes turned from irate to petrified in a heartbeat as he stared into the now raging, misshapen expression that belonged to Severus Snape. With his other hand, Severus had the tip of his wand pressed against Oliver's pulsating neck.

"Papa, please!" Liesl found herself pleading, not for Oliver's sake but for her father's. "Don't! He's not worth it!"

The pointy tip of Severus's wand inched a little deeper and was on the verge of piercing Oliver's skin. Oliver jerked and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Severus, enough," Hermione, too, softly begged her husband; her heart was pounding furiously in her chest as she reached out to coil her fingers around his arm. "Liesl's right. Let him go."

Severus weighed that hefty decision for a rather long pause, sneering down his nose at a quaking Oliver all the while. At last, his grip on the boy smartly lessened, as did the pressure from his wand, though he made sure to purposely fling the young man backward once he finally let go. Oliver staggered, requiring a moment to right himself. Once he had found his footing again, his enlarged eyes turned as seething as they had been previously; that was, before it seemed that his life was about to be taken out by a former Death Eater whom he was ill-matched to fight against.

"You don't have it in you," Severus determined quietly, his rich baritone oozing with disdain and a certain twinge of knowingness that goaded Oliver on; his hands clenched and began to tremble at his sides. "You'll never be one of Nottingham's goons. You're too bright for them, Mr Wood; or so I had presumed when you were once my student, even if you stemmed from that unfortunate, athletically-inclined, bird-brained Gryffindor House of ill breeding." He paused, permitting his stinging words to sink in, though there was little need for such respite, for Oliver's acid, tight-lipped scowl colourfully conveyed his reaction. "Go home, Mr Wood. Forget you ever saw us, and perhaps I might feel inclined to do the same favour to you."

Oliver lingered, however, his peeved off glare dashing from Severus to Liesl momentarily, but that was swiftly broken by Severus's protective, animal-like growl. "You stay away from her, Mr Wood," he advised—warned, rather—and Hermione's clasp on her husband's arm tightened, holding him back from making good on his threat. "Your days of brainwashing my daughter and taking advantage of her kindness are over."

This time, Oliver didn't retort something snippy or dally about. He squared himself up and, with a departing grimace, Disapparated from the woods without his wand, which Hermione didn't hesitate to snap in half. Then she exhaled the nerve-wracking breath she had been holding in whilst Liesl's ability to maintain her cool splintered following Oliver's departure.

After being gently embraced by her mother, she was safeguarded into Severus's arms, who guided her back to the safety of the car. "I'm so sorry, Papa," she sobbed into his shoulder, choking on her words and wiping repeatedly at her tears. "I didn't think it would turn out this way. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right, Liesl." He gently added, as he left a small, tender kiss on her forehead, "I'm sorry, too..."

Hermione sighed as the mellow wind slightly ruffled her curls, frizzing them even more than they undoubtedly already were. The breeze's echo enticed her eyes to open and admire the scenery below: Beauxbatons, huddled snug and secure within the majesty of the Pyrenees Mountains, had never looked more splendid. Its brilliant, intricately carved chateau was one of a kind and surrounded by beautiful, lavish gardens that never wilted or died, even during the brutal autumn and winter months, its splendour so picturesque that Hermione thought it rather a shame that no muggle could ever glimpse its beauty; not even her parents, should they ever be permitted a visit.

There may be time yet to arrange that, depending on how long we stay, she considered as she stood alone with her thoughts on the French hillside.

She, Severus, and the children had been staying at her Alma Mater for seven weeks, and everyone, most especially the children, were adapting nicely to their new surroundings. Madame Maxime had welcomed the family with open arms, which Hermione and her husband were immensely grateful for and tried to pay their dues in whatever form the headmistress would allow. So far, she hadn't permitted them to lift a ruddy finger, but Hermione was hopeful that that might change. After all, they couldn't expect their gracious hostess to maintain such boundless generosity and hospitality forever. 'Who knows how long we'll be here,' she reminded the witch, but Madame Maxime simply waved her off and went about her business.

For Hermione, it had taken little time at all to warm up to the school again, though, like her family, her heart secretly yearned for its return to the moody, introspective Scottish highlands that had, since their discovery, become her true home. Still, Beauxbatons wasn't a sloppy alternative; it would do for the time being.

Severus was keeping faith that an opportunity to return to the estate would present itself soon. Draco and Molly had been keeping them abreast of any political news back home. Unsurprisingly, a warrant had been issued against Severus the morning he didn't show up to his friend's hearing, calling for his immediate arrest. However, there was also a great deal of growing unrest amongst the wizarding community across the whole of Great Britain, none more so instigated then by Severus's heated letter regarding Nottingham that was published in The Daily Prophet, demanding the minister's resignation. Since then, the political unrest had snowballed. People were vocalising their complaints against their problematic Minister of Magic in ways they hadn't before, urging for Kingsley Shacklebolt's prompt return to the post; even The Daily Prophet had grown considerably outspoken against Nottingham in recent weeks.

'It's only a matter of time,' Severus promised Hermione and the children, which he knew livened their spirits to hear. The elder ones were particularly restless to return to Scotland, and Hermione understood why: they had finally settled into a tangible place to call their own, only to have it ripped out from beneath their feet in a matter of hours.

'We'll go back, children, I promise,' she and her husband had reassured them frequently, hoping the message would stick.

Hermione squinted in order to take in the children at the bottom of the hill. Friedrich, Louisa, and Kurt were practicing flight and trying to outrace each other on their broomsticks, Brigitta was perched on a rock off by herself and engrossed in a book, per usual, and Liesl was busily chasing after Marta and Gretl, who were attempting to snatch pixies from the air. Hermione couldn't find her husband anywhere amongst them, however, and his dark contour was always the easiest to spot. She frowned, puzzled and a tad concerned as to where he might have gone without explanation.

"Looking for something?" he suddenly whispered from behind, startling Hermione out of her worried musings. A pair of sturdy, lean arms warmly encased her, pulling her back against his chest.

"Found it," she breathed, peering sidelong up at him with a broad, contented grin.

The professor subtly returned her loving regard, his mouth breaking from its usually stern lines in order to provide a slim, handsome smile, exclusive and entirely meant for her. That had Hermione's smile spreading wider across her cheeks.

Severus drew downward to affectionately nuzzle her neck and jaw. Hermione had to bite on her bottom lip to keep from giggling outright at the man's ticklish assault upon her ear. His lips ceased their nibbling and, instead, delicately pecked the upper part of her left cheek. "I bring news," he declared after she had settled comfortably into his fold.

Hermione shuddered, intrigued. "Well, I should hope you would bring me something, seeing as you trekked all the way up here!"

"Apparated," he deadpanned, and Hermione could sense the underlying amusement in that correction.

"But of course. You and your incessant whining about walks."

"I beg your pardon, I very much enjoy walking," he disputed through an unemotional snarl. "If it involves hills and exerting a great deal of physical effort, however, you should know that I'm not interested."

Hermione titled her head back so as to properly gaze up at him once more and brought their mouths together, kissing her husband with fervour. "What news do you bring?" she inquired softly once their lips had amicably parted, though not without forced restraint.

"Nottingham's policies were overruled by the Wizengamot."

Hermione jolted in his arms. "Really?"

"And the people have called for his immediate resignation. There was quite the lively demonstration at the Ministry yesterday, which Draco and Mr Potter apparently led. Their pictures made the papers this morning."

Hermione's near delirious smile flopped upside down. "Those fools," she reprimanded with a shake of her head. "They could've gotten themselves arrested!"

"Nevertheless, their demonstration worked, my dear. I'll hand it to Potter: he knows how to get his opinions out there, and how to get others to sit up and take notice. Nottingham's out. Shacklebolt's been reinstated as of today."

"That's wonderful, Severus!" Overjoyed, Hermione tugged her husband's face down for another passionate snog.

"Which means—" he started, reluctantly breaking up the kiss once more; but Hermione exclaimed the words first.

"We can go home!"

"Yes." His smile stretched in relief.

Hermione finalised the news with another earnest smack to his lips. "Let's go tell the children!"

In haste, Hermione turned to scurry back down the hill, holding tight to Severus's hand and intending to drag him with her, when the strength of his arm pulled her back to him in a rush. She stared up at him, waiting, and was enthused when his mouth leaned into hers, their lips barely touching; she could feel his warm breaths on her face. "Just a moment," he mused and wrapped his arms firmly around the smallness of her back. "I require a little more alone time before those buggers descend on us and afford us no peace."

Hermione laughed lightly and nudged the man's much large nose. "There was a time I mistakenly thought you wanted nothing more than to get away!" She paused to place an appreciative hand on his chest, her fingers thoughtfully tracing a single edelweiss that Severus had pinned to his robes. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you, love."

Severus's intense eyes bore openly into hers. "You forced me to reevaluate why I took them in in the first place. I confess, I... I was partly lonely."

"I know."

"And I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Which you were," she asserted, nudging his nose a little harder. "And I'm so glad you did. You taking in those children and giving them a loving home brought me to you."

Then Severus allowed Hermione to recapture his lips, without vigour or hurriedness this time but with a deliberately slow, generous pace. Moments later, Hermione was the one ending their snog fest, her fingers still mindlessly stroking a few of the edelweiss' pedals as she reared back to stare up into her husband's gratified face.

Severus glanced down at her hand and bundled it close, cushioning it within his own. "Shall we?" he quietly suggested.

With an affirming smile, Hermione silently led the way down the hillside hand in hand. The professor didn't gripe at the uneven tread they faced, even if Apparation would have been preferable and gotten them to the children a lot faster. Staring at the back of his wife's ferociously thick, windswept curls, and being greeted by the adoring, beautiful faces of their children as they reached the bottom of the hill, Severus Snape concluded then and there that he would never convey an ill word of complaint ever again.

A/N #2: Thank you for reading!

Until next time.