The next three days were the most pleasant sort of torture. As predicted, I was in agony as my body healed. Hermione was a constant, soothing presence, giving me space when I needed it, and being at my side when I needed her more. As a distraction she read to me, choosing a smutty romance novel to make up for the fact that matters were by necessity remaining chaste between us; I promised to read aloud from her favourite once I fully recovered.

Indeed, by the third day, I had recovered sufficiently enough that we were risking a heated snog on the sofa when Hermione's floo roared to life, Rose Weasley stepping out. For a priceless moment, her expressive face went blank with shock, and then with an admirable sangfroid, she thrust a forward a round tin as an offering.

"Hiya, Mum, Mr Snape." She raised a challenging red eyebrow at me. "I do hope that you like cherry tarts. The newest series of the Great British Bake Off is about to start, and I baked one to celebrate."

I removed my mouth from her mother's breast with an audible pop, pulling her shirt swiftly closed as I did. I smiled wolfishly; the embarrassment that Hermione was likely feeling over getting caught by her daughter was a more than adequate recompense for her little ass slap stunt in the hospital. The utter bliss of playing with Hermione's breasts also helped dull any discomfort. "I do. As long as it's a good bake, that is."

Rose laughed merrily, heading for the kitchen. "Spoken like a former Potions Professor."

Hermione had turned as red as any cherry, burying her face in my shoulder. "Oh, god. I am never going to be able to look my daughter in the eye again. What on earth am I going to tell her?"

Smirking, I re-fastened the clasp of her bra and began buttoning her shirt. "All this from the woman that so-confidently declared herself a perv only days ago… well, you can tell her that when a man loves a woman, and she him, and they find themselves alone…"

Giving my hand a whack, she took over the re-robing duties. "Easy for you to say."

"Yes, it is. I love you."

Mollified, she leaned forward and granted me a soft buss of an apology. "And I love you."

"She didn't appear to be mad, Hermione," I remarked, smoothing her tousled curls. "Or for that matter, very surprised. And it could have been worse. It could have been Arthur or Molly… hell, it could have been Potter. We still haven't sent in our reports, and you know how stroppy he gets when paperwork is delayed."

"True," she said with a sigh, removing herself from my lap.

"Go speak with your daughter, and then bring me some cherry tart."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "I hear and obey, oh pasha."

Hermione was saved from figuring out what to say by her daughter's blunt Wesley nature.

"It's about time you two hooked up," Rose said, dishing up a third piece of tart. "I do hope that you are remembering to use contraception, however. I don't think that I'm ready for another brother or sister at this late stage in the game."

The comment made Hermione's blood cold. She was only thirty-eight, which was quite young for a witch, never mind a Muggle, and they hadn't used any procreation...

"Fuck," Severus said loudly from the lounge. Wordlessly, Hermione pulled her wand and performed the anti-fertility charm. It would have to do for the moment until they could take stock.

"Rose, you aren't mad, are you?" she asked after taking a moment to calm herself.

Rose grinned again, handing her a dish. "No. I'd only be unhappy if you kept making googly-eyes at each other for the next ten years without doing a ruddy thing about it."

Sputtering, Hermione tried to deny it. "It's only been eight years, and we haven't… that is to say-"

"Mum, please. Even Hugo has pulled his nose out of a book long enough to notice the chemistry between you." She put a stubborn hand to her hip and ploughed on. "When you talk about your day—or anything really—it always leads back to him. And he's always watching you. Even when you've had a row, he gaze is constantly flicking back to you to make sure that you're okay. Dad never did that; he flat ignored you when he was angry, or if something shiny caught his attention."

Hermione laughed at the candid quip before the weight of Rose's observation struck her. "Severus does?"

"Mr Snape has been in love with you for years." Rose turned her suddenly serious gaze to the doorway. "Haven't you?"

Severus appeared utterly composed, not at all bothered by the revelation. "Yes, I have been."

Rose shrugged, glancing back at her. "See? Now, come on, enough heartfelt talk for one night. Back to the sofa. GBBO is about to start."

It was a surreal way to spend an evening. Thankfully, Rose was not inclined to discomfort us further; once the program was over, she got up to leave, announcing that she was off to Muggle London for pub trivia with her brother.

She turned a sunny smile on me, asking, "Would you walk me to the garden Apparition point, Mr Snape?"

I cleared my throat. "I believe that it's past time for you to call me Severus." Getting up, I walked to the door and opened it chivalrously.

"Such the gentlemen," Rose drawled, and Hermione flushed pink again. "Shall I tell Hugo about the two of you when I see him tonight, or do you want me to wait?"

Hermione looked at me, and I smirked. I was happy to leave the timing of any announcements to her.

"Give us a few days, Rose. I can only deal with one smug Weasley at a time."

Rose snorted in amusement. "Dad's going to have a cow, you know."

"I do," Hermione said tartly. "And thankfully, I don't really give a flying fig what he thinks about my love life any longer."

"Cheers to that." Rose saluted her mother and promptly swanned out the door. I followed as quickly as I could. She was silent until we reached the Apparition point. Turning to me, she gave me another amused glance.

"Out with it," I muttered, wondering if she was going to take me to task over despoiling her mother, or threaten my well-being if I was stupid enough to try and treat Hermione poorly.

"Let her fuss over you," she said gently, surprising me. "She needs it. That's how you know she loves you. Dad never got that, either."

"I noticed."

"That he didn't understand, or why she fusses?"

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "I'm a Slytherin. Try both."

Rose's chin firmed in a familiar fashion. "Do you promise?"

Dropping all humour, I answered. "Yes. I need her fussing over me just as much as she needs to fuss."

"Good," Rose said simply, nodding. "Then welcome to the family, Severus."

Despite the overwhelmingly Gryffindor nature to the conversation, I was touched. "In the spirit of family, I would ask a favour of you."

"Name it." Her eager reply was instantaneous, and I was reminded of a much younger Hermione.

I pulled out my wand and set of keys. "I can't do magic for another two days. Would you mind fetching something from my flat?"

"Do I get to know what it is?"

"It's a small black velvet ring box tucked in my pants drawer. Three guesses as to what's in it, and the first two don't count."

"Oh, so in accepting this black-cloak mission, I also get to find out if you are boxers or briefs man?"

"Regretfully."

She gave me a saucy wink. "Boxers, I bet. But silk. Black silk."

"Rose Minerva Weasley…" My glare failed me yet again. It had to be the drugs. Just because I was in love didn't mean I was going soft. "I am more than happy to Obliviate you, and I don't think that your mother would protest in this particular situation."

Laughing, she took the wand and keys, "Alright, alright. Just tell me how to break into your flat, and I'll be on my way."

Two minutes later I stood alone in the dark of the garden. The spring air was still warm, and carried the scent of flowers and burgeoning life; like a beacon, Hermione was illuminated in the kitchen window, washing the plates over the sink.

It seemed unreal, my sudden wealth of domestic felicity.

For a moment, I heard a familiar womanly whisper on the wind, doubts swirling around me.

"I deserve to be happy," I spoke firmly, daring that voice to challenge me. "I want to be happy. To love, and be loved in return. And I won't fail. Not this time, dammit!"

The garden went quiet for a breathless moment before the hoot of hunting owl broke the standoff. Gradually, the normal night sounds returned. Hermione's magic, so deeply intertwined with her garden and household wards, fell upon me like the balm of moonlight as the quiet soothed my temper.

There was no rejoinder.

Unexpectedly, I felt a bead of moisture fall from my eye. It's just the drugs, I told myself again, hastily wiping my cheek. I do not cry, and I won't be starting now. For one thing, if Rose catches me blubbering, I'll never hear the end of it.

For the first time since I had left the relative innocence of my childhood behind, I was looking forward to the future. Plans and dreams and all sorts of naughty fantasies filled my mind, and I was utterly content to plan them out while I waited for Rose.

With a muted pop, Rose returned, hopping up on the fence and giving me that look again. Alas, she did not immediately hand over the request ring box, and I braced myself for another round of Gryffindor fun and games.

"You shock me, Severus. Your pant drawer had colour in it! And pattern!"

"I am a man of many mysteries and much depth." I impatiently gestured for her to hand the goods over, wondering how mad Hermione might be if I threatened to hex her daughter in addition to Obliviation.

She leaned out of my reach, and some of the levity abruptly left Rose's expression. "In the spirit of family, I also have a request to ask of you."

"Name it." And Merlin help me if I'm not to the challenge of dealing with family matters. Surely it can't be as hard as dealing with Dumbledore or the Dark Lord…

"Mum's not the only one with a fondness for Slytherins, you know." She glanced away, biting her lip.

Ah. This, after far too many years as Head of House, I could deal with. "You speak, of course, of the fact that you have been dating Scorpio Malfoy for nine months. Is it serious, then?"

Her blush was almost as all-consuming as her mother's. "Yes, on both accounts."

"What do you require of me, Rose?"

"Can you help me figure a way to tell Mum? I know that she and Scorpio's Dad still don't get along…"

I watched the Rose for a moment, surprised at her hesitance after a master class in brashness. "It's not as bad as all that. They snipe at each mostly out of long-standing habit. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if they were both relieved to have a reason to finally bury the hatchet."

"Truly?"

"Truly. Nevertheless, I will help you tell your mother." Raising a brow, I continued. "And if you are very, very nice to me, and forget that you ever saw the contents of my pants drawer, I might even be convinced to assist in engineering a situation in which your father finds out about Scorpio and is forced to take the news with a modicum of grace."

"Oh, would you?" Her bright smiled returned.

"Yes. Alas, their fighting is all too real."

She snorted, handing me the ring box. "Believe me, I picked up on that years ago."

I looked down at the small box, some of the unreality of the last several days returning. Four days prior, Hermione had only been my partner, and my life had been far bleaker. "Did you take a peek?"

"No. I'd rather wait and see it on Mum's hand." A slender finger tapped me on the chin, forcing me to glance up. "You are a good man, Severus Snape, and I am very glad that you love my mother."

Leaning in, she gently kissed my forehead, and I could feel the spirit of her blessing wash over me. My throat closed up, and it was all I could do to give her a tight nod.

"Don't forget what I said. Let her fuss over you."

"I will," I replied gruffly. "And I will fuss over her in return."

Rose jumped down from the fence, suddenly all business. "Excellent. Now, I need to leg it before I miss all of the trivia. Hugo might be a brainiac Ravenclaw in the family, but he knows nothing about sport or pop culture."

"You are dismissed."

That earned me a final laugh. "Thank you. Good night, Severus."

"Good night to you, Rose."

Hermione was perusing a tightly-packed bookshelf when I walked back into the lounge. Coming up behind her, I slid my arms around her waist and carefully rested my chin on the top of her head, a wave of pure pleasure filling me. How often I had dreamt of precisely this…

"Finding us new reading material, darling?" I asked, letting my voice rumble over the both of us.

"Yes." She leaned back into my embrace, making a noise perilously close to a purr. "What do you think, the dangers of ravishing pirates or a fierce Scottish lord next? You can do a Scottish accent, can't you?"

"Aye." I spun her around and reached into my pocket. "But I'd rather skip the fiction tonight." As smoothly as I could—which was more along the lines of a controlled fall—I dropped to one knee and proffered the velvet box.

Hermione's face went blank as I tried to hide the grimace of pain on mine.

"Severus, you don't have to…"

I shook my head, praying that I could find the right words in the tumble of my emotions and recollections. "Yes, I do. You deserve all the pomp and circumstance I can muster up and all the showy trappings that I can afford… Hermione, you have been my reason to get up in the morning, and if I had any hope or happiness, it's because you gave it to me. You are perfect to me, and now… now you aren't just giving me a future. You're giving me a life, not mere survival."

Moisture re-appeared on my cheek, and I ignored it. It was entirely possible that it came from Hermione. She was leaking like a faucet.

"I love you. Be my partner in life. Be my wife. Please marry me."

She sniffed, blinking rapidly. "Oh, you silly, foolish man. I don't need any of the showy trappings, and you bloody well not perch me on a pedestal like that. I am not perfect!"

Hermione softened the rebuke by cupping my cheek tenderly and then drying it with the hem of her shirt. "The only thing that I want is you. Just you, and your love. Are you still blind to your own worth even after all these years?"

Despite the new world I found myself in, I still couldn't answer that question. Instead, I parried with one of my own. "Do you not like the ring?"

"I don't know. I haven't even looked at it." Taking the box from my hand, she opened it and gasped. "Oh. Oh, Severus. It's perfect!"

"The garnet symbolises consistency," I said thickly, pointing to the centre round-cut stone pedantically. It was surrounded by a swirl of small pearls intertwined in gold. "And the pearls, of course, are for the purity and healing brought by love."

"When did you get this?"

"Six years ago." I smiled weakly. She was going to think me mental. "I was picking something up for Draco as a favour and saw it in the shop. I… I could see it so perfectly on your hand in my mind. And so I bought it."

"We've both been dreadfully foolish, haven't we?" she whispered, still transfixed by the ring.

"Well, that depends. Will you wear my ring, Hermione?"

She met my eyes again, and the sheer emotion I saw in her brown eyes made me grateful that I was already on one knee. "Of course I will! I love it. It's a showy trapping that I will gladly wear."

"And if I put you up on a pedestal, say, for reasons of better access to certain areas?"

She smirked. "On second thought, I'll allow that as well."

"Then say yes, you silly, foolish woman, and put on my ring." Experimentally, I tried to rise. It was not a success. I looked up at my fiancée. "You are also going to have to help me off this floor, or I'll be stuck here all night."

With a joyful laugh, she heaved me to my feet. Pulling her in the direction of the sofa, I let gravity do the rest as we tumbled down together. Gratifyingly, she ended up on my lap, and I began to unbutton her blouse once more.

"Now, where were we before your daughter interrupted us?"

I woke wrapped around the sweet curves of my wife.

Although rain was pounding on the bedroom windows, the room was warm and peaceful, and I was content to lay in quiet contemplation as Hermione gradually began to stir next to me. In our house, there were no ghosts, and when fear or doubts presented themselves, we dealt with them via the novel concept of open and frank discussions. It was very un-English of us, talking about our feelings in such a fashion, but it had proved to be a rather effective way to navigate life together.

We had gotten married at the registry office a mere three weeks after the raid, and turned in our DMLE resignations to Potter the following week; I don't know what flummoxed him more, but I greatly enjoyed the look of shock that accompanied both announcements.

After taking three months to wallow in wedded bliss, Hermione accepted the Head Archivist position within the Magical section of the British Library. She cut quite the picture in her fitted robes and pencil skirt, and we discovered a shared appreciation for naughty librarian role play. I found that I did not miss working as much as I missed working with my wife, and so I played the role of haughty consultant when she needed a second hand with some dark spell or object. Thankfully, in the wizarding world, nepotism was not only allowed, but encouraged, and we were able to fulfil any number of needs in one neat swoop.

As for myself, I took to retirement like a duck to water. I fussed with potions in the potting shed for several weeks before growing bored and then got down to the serious business of being a dedicated house-husband. Making dinner, gardening, and even cleaning the cottage carried with it such a domestic charm and sense of normalcy that was it revitalising. For the first time in my life, I wallowed in the simple life; I rested, let my mind wander, and had no significant responsibilities other than being in love.

Mostly, I read. Nothing was safe—I blew through Hermione's entire fiction collection in less than two months, and then made daily trips to various shops and libraries in hunt of good books. I didn't give a fig about genre. Reading to Hermione had given me an appreciation for romance novels, but I also enjoyed historical fiction, the more modern bildungsroman and literary works, as well as the odd detective series. While I found plenty to like in the Muggle sphere, the tripe masquerading as novels that I uncovered at Flourish and Blotts was highly infuriating. Given that the Hogwarts curriculum still lacked anything resembling rhetoric or composition, it was hardly a surprise that the modern British witch or wizard could barely string together a coherent sentence.

"So write your own novel, Severus," Hermione had remarked casually one evening as I glared at the latest offending book. "Your sense of drama and pacing has always been excellent, and Merlin knows you have enough stories to pull from to write a hundred stories."

Her suggestion found fertile ground. The very next morning I gave her kiss as she dashed to the floo and then hurried out to the potting shed with a notebook and a handful of biros. Three days later, having tired of my hands cramping and the sheer bloody annoyance of flipping through pages of notes, I bought my first laptop. Three months after that, I had not only learnt how to use a computer but had the first draft of a novel completed. The act of writing was deeply satisfying, and I treasured my story like it was a firstborn child.

To my shock, Luna Lovegood—or rather, Luna Scamander—had shared my distaste for wizarding fiction and had started her own imprint. Over a dinner one evening she disclosed that she was actively seeking new writers, and Hermione helpfully volunteered the details of my latest hobby. At first, I was not pleased with my wife's interference, nor Luna's persistence in wanting to read something that I held so dear. After some underhanded convincing, I allowed the Ravenclaw to see the first three chapters, and she introduced me to her publishing team. Surprisingly, it was a highly competent group, and when a formal offer was made one month later to acquire my book, I accepted.

Eyes travelling to the advance copy on the bedside table, I couldn't help but smirk; pre-sales had been brisk, reviews had been quite encouraging, and I was working on a follow-up novel. And speaking of encouraging…

Hermione rolled away from me slightly, giving the little huff that indicated she was nearly awake. I smiled wolfishly and ran a questing hand down her stomach. She shivered, arching into my touch. Fingers travelling further south, I stroked the welcoming cleft between her thighs; it appeared that wasn't the only one who had been experiencing heated dreams.

My mouth was descending on her just as her eyes fluttered open.

"Severus…" she moaned, gently grasping my hair to guide my tongue to her core.

"Good morning, wife," I rumbled, and she gasped at the sensation of my words on her body.

"Oh, my love..."

Her words were as potent as any potion, stirring the sentiment of my soul. I eagerly set to work. Hermione tasted richly of desire and joy, the perfect start to a sleepy Sunday morning. I couldn't help but give a lustful groan at the sensual feast spread before me.

Even after a year together, this act of love could still seem like a dream. Much to my elation continued elation, it wasn't. After all the years of living in darkness and pain, the loneliness and despair, I had everything that I could ever desire. I knew it for the exceptional blessing that it was, and I was sincerely happy. Resolutely, I pushed thoughts of the past away and devoted myself to pleasuring my beloved wife. All was right in the world, and I wasn't going to waste a second.

A/N~ Thank you all for reading! If you've enjoyed this story, check out my bio page for others. Hugs to everyone who supported me in the writing of this story, and for all the lovely readers who have reviewed over the course of my posting. High fives to Lucky, Snapesphoeniks, Kailin, Ardentlyadmired, houstonclay, pgoodrichboggs, Padme.G, villafoo, reneelovessnape, Ali Sara Card, meg527, Mel, Nachtwens, teosinte, Haveyouseenmyprefectbadge and several guests for commenting on the previous chapter.

Come September, I'll be posting the last four chapters of 'A Derailed Train of Thought', as well as starting to post a new multi-chapter fic, so keep your eyes out. Wishing everyone a wonderful end to their summer, and as always, happy reading!