AN: Smut above the first cut, so if you don't wanna read it you can just skip past. Kisses!

24. Starting Something

S.

Hermione held up her index finger, the universal gesture for will you just give me a fucking minute?! Severus groaned and sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. His shoes squeaked against the wood, the tell-tale sound of new shoes. New shoes that he'd bought because she'd insisted that he come with her tonight. There was no point in rushing her when she was in this mood. What did it matter that they were supposed to be out the door twelve minutes ago?

Hermione took the hair-tie from around her wrist and secured her curls in a bun on top of her head. Damn it. They were definitely going to be late now. No escaping it. She'd eventually go upstairs and spend forever trying to get her hair to lie flat again, before finally giving up and using a charm that she could have used in the first instance. Then she'd grab her dress from the back of the door, put her dress on, stand in front of the mirror, take her dress off, try on a second dress, take off the second dress and do so again with a third and perhaps a fourth, before finally returning to the first dress.

She did not often fuss about her appearance, and so when she did, like tonight, for a work function, then he knew that it must be important. She wanted to make a good impression, she said. Which, apparently, involved wearing an 'evening shoe', rather than a 'day shoe'. And so here he was, wearing his squeaky, fucking evening shoes in solidarity with Hermione who was still in her jumper and jeans.

She chewed at the end of her pen, staring at the stack of papers in front of her. It was hardly a stack; pages strewn across the desk haphazardly. She ran her hands across them, pushing them to the edge of the desk. It made him uncomfortable, truth be told. He preferred things to be in order. His order. She was terribly inconsistent, he'd decided long ago, compulsively labelling everything with that bloody label maker, but she had no filing system. Her stapler was neatly branded 'Hermione's Stapler', but she had to ask to borrow 'Severus' Staples' because she'd misplaced hers. Worst of all; she refused to go digital.

God, she was a nightmare sometimes. That was why he'd refused to share his desk with her, and bought her one for her own. She had her side of the home office, and he had his. Once or twice he'd had the idea to paint a line right down the centre of the wall and across the floor to stop her chaos from creeping on to his side. He had decided against it, however, preferring to deal with a little bit of clutter rather than divorce proceedings. Maddening as she was, he loved his wife, and there wasn't enough mess in the world to draw a line to keep them apart.

"I'm going as fast as I can," she said. "I just need to jot this quickly, before I forget."

"I wasn't rushing you," he said, coolly.

She stood up then, dropping the stack with a thud and rested her hand on her hip.

"I didn't say anything," he argued, knowing as he did, that he was rising to her temperature, instead of helping her cool down.

She tapped her foot, irritably. God, she had the disappointed mother thing down to an act and they didn't even have children.

That was the problem really, he knew. It was the root of all their arguments recently. She wanted more than anything to have a child. He did too. He'd been ready long before he'd even married her, but she'd chosen to concentrate on her career first, as of course she should, given that that was her priority at the time. But now she was thirty-six, and although well-established at the university, more successful by far than any of her peers, she was beginning to wonder, oh so theatrically, if her time would ever come.

"You sighed," she said. "You didn't have to say anything. I know when you're stewing."

Severus dropped his legs from the desk and folded his hands in his lap. He carefully let out a breath he had huffed, heaven forbid it sound like another sigh.

"Out with it," she said, narrowing her eyes in a light-hearted way that told him that this argument would be short-lived.

"Hermione, it was you that wanted to go tonight. And you were very clear that we had to leave at quarter to six and not a minute later."

She pulled up the sleeves of her jumper and leant back on her desk.

"Yes, well. That was weeks ago. I was far more optimistic then. I would never have imagined that I'd still have my references to finish the day before the deadline."

"That's why you should reference as you go," he muttered.

"What does it matter if I can't find the damn Oswald paper!?"

He stepped towards her desk and raised his eyebrows as he gestured broadly to her workstation.

"Perhaps if you kept your desk even a little tidy—"

"Severus. You know this is how I work best."

"Hmm. Is it? Or are you just too stubborn to admit that my way is better."

He grabbed the 'stack' of papers and began to thumb through them, throwing pages behind him, as he stepped around the desk and wandered the floor.

"Nope," he said. "Not this one."

She stopped, her lips parted and her nostrils flared.

"No… Nope… No… Ah," he said, pulling a file from the pile, with a smirk. "The Oswald paper."

"Arsehole," she said, swiping it from his hands, but leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Is that all the thanks I get?" he asked, feigning offence. "After I saved the day?"

She pouted, saying "I need to finish my work,", and turned to walk away from him, but he caught her and pulled her in for a real kiss.

:

H.

She sank into him as he wrapped one arm around her waist, and with his hand he drew her mouth towards him, bringing his kiss warm to her lips. She felt her body respond to his touch as it always did. Even at moments inappropriate at these.

"We'll be late," she said, realising as she did that she was only protesting because she thought that she should.

He surveyed her, searching for the fire in her eyes that mirrored his and smiled, pleased with himself to find it.

"We're already late," he shrugged, as his hand slid down from her waist to her arse.

He curved the other hand under her chin, kissing her again and she surrendered to the wisdom of his logic, running her fingers up his chest and sliding a nail under his collar button.

"We'll have to be quick," she said.

"I can't see that being a problem," he said. "Just look at you."

She didn't look very special. She hadn't looked very special for quite some time. He looked special, in his bottle green suit jacket atop his black ensemble. It seemed a shame that soon they would be strewn on the floor, but not a shame enough to make her change her mind. She could do this all night.

"God, I wish we had more time."

As he punctuated his kiss on her temples, down to her cheeks, she let out a low moan of satisfaction that sounded almost as a complaint, there is never enough time with you.

"We don't have to go…"

"Yes, we do," she said, her disappointment evident, but she distracted herself by running her fingers across the bristle of stubble, salt-and-peppered on his jaw.

"I know, I need a shave," he said. "Kiss me anyway."

Hermione's face softened, her lips parted, and then curved in its pleasure; an unconscious response to his voice. It wasn't fair that he could do this to her. But she had tricks of her own. She nipped at his jaw with her teeth and he choked on his sharp inhale. As the tug of the smile came again, tight in the corners of her mouth, she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth so that her smile couldn't become a laugh, but his face lit up as he chuckled at himself.

"You see what you do to me," he groaned. "You're wicked."

She bit her lip again, this time because she knew exactly how the sight excited him; a throwback to hot and heavy nights in the many Malfoy Manor guest bedrooms, in which she had to physically keep her mouth shut so not to draw attention to their union. It was hardly her fault. Each time, with every room, they just got better and better until they hardly needed to try anymore. They just worked together. They'd lost themselves for a year or so, when sex became part of a schedule. There had been period maths and ovulation sticks and I can pencil in a session of lovemaking just before midnight. They'd lost their spontaneity – and with it, they wondered if they'd lost their spark. It had been a little frightening at first, but much to her surprise she found that a few conversations over a few weeks and a few bottles of wine, and they agreed. Fuck it! And they found their way back to one another. They found their way to this. It wasn't always perfect, but Hermione was long past caring for perfection. She was loved, she was safe, she was happy. How many people could say that and really mean it?

"I know you're biting your lip on purpose," he said, "but honestly it's working for me, so take off your jumper."

She moved slowly, sensually, tugging gently on the bottom of her jumper, knowing as she did that he would quickly become frustrated. Marriage with Severus was both simple and wonderful, for the most part, but what was life without a game once in a while?

"Oh stop it. You're killing me."

"You could always help—" Hermione said, pouting a little in a way that had proved always either successfully provocative or fuel for their laughter in the past.

She would take either. It was the great joy of their relationship. Their ability to laugh with one another. In recent years, they had even learned to laugh at one another, aware of where the lines were drawn.

Severus rolled his eyes, muttering "ridiculous, woman," and he tugged the jumper over her head then discarded it to the floor.

"I have to do everything around here," he snipped, playfully, as he whipped off his belt, and shook himself out of his trousers.

She loved seeing him this way. Particularly because it thrilled her to know that she could still elicit this response.

"Come on then," he said with a smirk. "Reward me for my heroism."

"Heroism?" she baulked. "You found a paper…"

"Hero!" he said, pointing at himself with a thumb. "Sooo… The desk?"

His hand was flat on her arse, as he raised a single daring, eyebrow.

"Yeah?" she asked, piling her jeans on top of her jumper, and moved towards his desk. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in towards him.

"Ha! Oh no you don't," he teased. "Your desk. I'd like to keep mine in order."

"Oh, how romantic!" she joked, clapping her hands together. "We can do it right there on the Oswald paper!"

"What do you want, woman? Candles? Rose petals? A bubble bath?"

He placed his hands under her arse and she jumped so that he could catch her and carried her the few steps to her desk. He slid the remaining pages to the side of the desk and dropped her gently onto the surface. As he stepped in towards her, her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulled each side of his shirt off his chest so that she could run her hands across the dark hair, grateful that at least he didn't insist on shaving that.

"I wouldn't say no to a bubble bath."

"The time, Hermione," he said, jutting his chin towards the clock.

"Right, sorry," she said, running her hands across the clasp of her bra until it came undone. "I suppose I'd better take this off for you then."

Severus narrowed his eyes as she shrugged out of her bra. As though to prove that he knew exactly what he was doing – and good god, he did - Severus ran his thumbs across her nipples, that peaked beneath his touch, then pinched, hard enough to excite her, but not to hurt her, knowing that she was sensitive in more ways that one, when she was ovulating.

The ache in Hermione's chest grew, and she was no longer able to ignore it. It seemed to sweep as though contagious from the centre of her mass to all of her edges; her tingling scalp, her buzzing fingertips, her itching toes. Then it was at her core, pulsing gently, but picking up its speed and power. She gave in to its command, and she tucked her hand into Severus' boxers and wrapped her hand around his cock. He closed his eyes and a wave seemed to move his body as he sighed, "oh, yes," and they shared a dirty smile as she began to move her hand, and he pushed aside her knickers and placed his clever fingers on her clit.

Her hands joined his tip, edging at centre, and she guided him, or rather paced him, and his hands came flat on the desk beside her as he made contact.

"Oh," was the first word he's said all this time. And what an intoxicating word it was.

He continued to circle her clit, as she had shown him she liked all those years ago, as he sank into her over and over, increasing his speed and vigour as he pitched inside her then eased to a couple of long, slow motions. He loved to tease her this way, and so she responded by teasing him, right back. Pulling his body down on to hers, her nails sharp at his shoulder-blades. He threw his head back, his long hair stippling his back. She began to match his rhythm then, angling her hips to deepen his strokes. The crack of his voice as he said, "yes, my girl, just like that," asserted that she was beginning to reach his end.

As continued to pitch deeper inside her and ran his long fingers across her bud. She could feel the magic swell as she knew it would; they knew exactly how to coax this out of one another, with years of practice. The feeling waxed and waned until, finally, she felt it surge through her and she dug her nails into the soft flesh of Severus' shoulders. Her heart clattered around in her chest as a wave of emotion and affection clutched its needy fingers around her impending orgasm. The heat in her centre rose still and threatened to set her on fire.

Hermione felt her eyes glaze, and her muscles tighten, then slacken as she broke apart under his touch. She felt his own frenzy build, just as hers had, and she knew that he was only seconds behind her. With a buck out of rhythm and a stutter in his voice as he said, "oh f-fuck," and unloaded inside her. She chuckled as she always did, as his eyes widened and he let out a long breath of satisfaction.

"You're amazing," he said, picking her up from the desk, dislodging himself and pulling her down on to the chair with him.

She pushed aside his hair that stuck to his cheek, his face warm and glowing, and she pressed her lips to his forehead. She wrinkled her nose, happily, as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, before slumping down in the chair and patting her stomach.

"We're so good at that."

She sat back, leaning her back on his stomach and wrapped her legs around his.

"We don't have to go tonight, I suppose," she said. "I know I said that we should go, but—"

"Nooo," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You said we had to go. We couldn't miss it. Those were your exact words."

"I suppose they won't really miss me."

He sighed dramatically, "I bought squeaky fucking shoes for nothing…"

:

S.

"See," Hermione said, pulling his suit jacket from the bag that hung from a velvet hook on the back of the wardrobe door. "I told you that you'd find a use for your squeaky shoes."

"You think I want to wear squeaky shoes to the ministry?" he asked. "You think I want to draw attention to myself?"

Hermione placed the bag on the beg and ran her hands across to smooth the wrinkles. She didn't say anything. She hardly wanted to go to the ministry either, but they had little choice. Not entirely true. They didn't have to do anything. They weren't called to testify. But they'd promised to attend in support of Narcissa, who had been.

Tobin Rogers have lived in blissful ignorance of his crimes for somewhere between two and eight years. Nobody was sure exactly when he'd recovered his memories, but he was found out. That was the problem with St. Mungo's. There were far too many people much cleverer than Tobin and he was bound to be found out. A smarter man would have made a run for it, but Tobin was not a smart man. And so Severus chose to believe that he had not fooled anyone for long.

Hermione and Jessica sat either side of Narcissa on the bench outside the courtroom. They were able to comfort her in a way he or Lucius couldn't. They'd been through something that day at Tobin's house, Severus thought- something that he was on the outside of. He wondered if it was possible that Narcissa was Hermione's friend now, more than she was his. Not that he could complain. He had Lucius. And somehow, if you could believe it, he had Draco, who had matured into a man worth knowing. A man who had learned loyalty, and the value of his family for more than their name. He was a man who went out of his way for his friends. And Severus felt quite honoured, truth be told, that he could count himself as one.

Jessica leant into Narcissa and they both cooed over the child in Hermione's lap. Hermione doted on the boy. He was the greatest thing that had happened to her in years, she'd said as much, and there were so many other things to be grateful for. Little Gallus was nine months old. He was curious and sweet and more than content to lie in Hermione's arms as she read to him. It was her favourite thing to do. She'd told Severus that too. Hermione ran her fingers through the black curls on top of his head, soothing him, but he screwed up his face and began to fuss, just as the courtroom doors opened and the witnesses were summoned inside. The muttering crowd became an excitable queue, and the baby began to scream. Jessica reached out her arms, and Hermione bundled the boy into his mother's arms.

"I'd better stay out here with him," she said, looking to Narcissa for confirmation that this was okay.

"Of course," she said, kissing her grandson on his forehead, and slipping her fingers into her husband's hands. "I'll be fine." And Narcissa walked into the courtroom first

As they stepped towards the back of the queue, Severus felt a tug on his arm and turned to see that Hermione had stopped, her attention focused elsewhere, when he heard the strain of a familiar voice call, "Hermione, Severus. Hi!"

Cressida.

"You remember my husband, Stuart," she said.

The husband ran a hand through his tight dark curls and extended the other to shake Severus' hand. Then Hermione's. He was a few years younger than Severus, he thought; mid-forties probably.

More than a few years, then.

"Cressida, you look great," Hermione said, who had obviously seen the change in Cressida too. She was a little plumper than before (weren't they all) but still youthful and pretty.

"Yes," Severus said. "Family life obviously becomes you."

Might as well acknowledge it, he thought. Get it out of the way.

"How are the girls?" Hermione asked.

"They're doing great. Mia starts school in September if you can believe it. Can't wait to have the little monkeys out the house—" she joked.

And that was all that Severus really acknowledged before he stopped listening. Cressida beamed as she spoke. She was happy, and so he would be happy for her. She deserved to be happy, after all. But it was never easy to spend time with people with young children, because people with young children love to talk about their young children. Which of course they should, but it was not always easy to listen to, particularly if the unsurprising result of this month's pregnancy test was still raw and unhealed.

"Don't you need to head into the courtroom first?" Severus asked.

"Oh," she said, patting her hand subconsciously. "No, I gave my testimony yesterday."

Damn.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she had the chance, Cressida asked the question that everyone asked them eventually – it was never asked to do harm, and yet, somehow it stung every time.

"So, when are you two going to have kids?"

Severus wondered if Hermione's world began to spin at the sound of these words in the same way his did. At least Cressida said it with kindness and curiosity. The question was not accompanied by a look of judgement or pity. Mercifully, nor was it followed by the words, 'well, you'd better hurry up, nobody's getting any younger'.

"You'd make such wonderful parents," she said.

"Maybe soon," Hermione said. "Thank you."

"And how's work?" Severus asked her quickly, not wanting to dwell even more than he didn't want to hear about Gringotts.

"Ooh!" Cressida said, excitedly. "I meant to say! You'll never guess who I work with."

Severus felt a knot in his stomach as he knew exactly who Cressida worked with. The only question was how Hermione would react to hearing the name.

"Bill Weasley," she said. "You remember… Ronald's brother?"

"Yes, I remem—"

Severus could not have been more grateful to hear the bustle of people that signified that the doors were now open to everyone and it was time to go into the courtroom.

"I'll see you soon," Cressida said.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I hope so."

Severus wasn't sure whether this was the truth. Cressida and Hermione had had a complicated relationship. Hermione quickly learning that you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped and Cressida absolutely did not want to be helped. Severus thought that this was a lesson that Hermione should have learned years ago but he would never mention this if he wanted to stay on her good side.

And of course he wanted to stay on her good side, because her good side meant coming home to the smell of freshly baked brownies – the only thing that she had learnt to cook better than he could - or being curled up on the sofa, intertwined in the most uncomfortable positions just so that they could hold each other as they each read. It meant sharing stories about their day out on the patio under the stars, eating leftovers from the night before because they'd both gotten home from work too late to cook. It was helping each other with whatever ridiculous problem they'd brought home from work. Neither of them willing to accept 'it's not possible' as an answer. It meant going out for dinner, or to the movies, or the theatre, taking it in turn to torture the other with their terrible choice of entertainment. Once even it meant attempting a game of bowling, which it turned out was a skill Severus did not know he had, and Hermione absolutely did not possess and so they never returned because both wondered if their relationship could withstand yet another thing that they competed to be the best at. It meant board games and Chinese takeaway and sex in the afternoon and falling asleep wrapped up in one another at 11pm and waking up as far away from her as possible, teetering on the edge of the mattress as she starfished beside him, taking up the whole fucking bed, curled up in the whole fucking duvet and he'd never been happier than he was when he was on her good side because her good side was the only place he wanted to be ever again for as long as he lived.

:

H.

"Hey gorgeous," Lucius said, as he squeezed in beside his wife, who sat beside Hermione and Severus on the sofa.

"Hi, honey," Severus quipped, at the same time Hermione said, "alright, Lucius," with a wink and handed him a glass of brandy.

"Don't start that shit again," Draco said, taking Gallus from Jessica's arms and placing him to his chest. "Jessica and I are always left out…"

"That's not true," Severus said, flirtatiously raising his eyebrows towards Jessica. "I'd never want to leave Jess out."

Jessica gave him a comical wink, as she threw herself onto one of the armchairs, and tucked her feet up underneath her. Draco sat, cross-legged on the floor in front of Jess, with the baby in his arms.

Hermione slipped her hand onto Severus' knee, and he responded with his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him on the Malfoy's sofa. Lucius kissed his wife on her forehead and Narcissa smiled, a small, tight-lipped smile as with a flick of her wand, she opened the window so that the bird that carried her newspaper, could enter through it.

Narcissa had not wanted to take the stand last week, but with the weight of the world on her shoulders, she had straightened her back and looked into the eyes of the man who had wronged her. For once Narcissa had been able to tell her side of the story and he didn't get to strike her down into silence. He'd never listened to her before, but now he'd had no choice. He had to hear what she said. Narcissa had surprised her with how soft she had been on the stand, truth be told. Hermione didn't know if she would have been so calm if the roles were reversed. But the world had made her hard once before, Narcissa said, and she would not let it do so again. And so when she had joined stepped out of the courtroom that day, although she trembled like a leaf, she smiled. She was proud of herself.

She smiled again this morning, this time with triumph when the verdict was front page news of The Prophet. There was cheering and yelling and hugging, but then there was peace. There was the knowledge that everything could be laid to rest, and from now on, everything would be different.

"But not too different," Narcissa said, with a glance at Hermione and then to her family that surrounded her. "I hope some things stay exactly the as they are."

She squeezed Hermione's hand, then turned to her husband as he said, "we should go out for lunch. My treat?"

Just because it was Lucius' treat, didn't mean that it was Lucius' choice, he would quickly learn. After an unnecessarily lengthy discussion, and then eventually a vote, it was decided that they would head into London to eat. And so they stepped into the Malfoy's fireplace and one by one they flooed into Diagon Alley, which was a brilliant plan, they thought, until they realised that that was hardly a decision at all, and they had still yet to decide where to eat

"Just pick somewhere," Severus grumbled.

When the volume rose again as everyone began to talk heartily over one another, Hermione noticed that Jessica had begun to walk away from the group. Hermione followed. Severus followed Hermione, and then Narcissa followed, until they were stood outside a French café.

"Oh, Jess. Really?" Draco asked. "I prefer to know what it is I'm ordering."

"But I love it here."

Narcissa and Hermione studied the menu pinned to the glass front of the café.

"It sounds quite nice," Narcissa said. "Oooh, maybe I'll have the—"

But Hermione felt a hand wrap around her wrist before Narcissa finished her sentence and she met Severus' eyes. He nodded his head towards the crowd of people that passed by on the street.

"Look," Severus said.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what it was she was supposed to be looking at, but she looked anyway, in the direction that Severus pointed. As though drawing their attention to the crowd, caused the crowd to shift and reveal their secret, and Hermione's mouth dropped open to see—

"Harry fucking Potter," Draco said from behind Hermione. "Shit. When was the last time you heard from him?"

"Years ago," Hermione said with a shrug.

It was an inevitability to run into someone from her old life in London. Really it was a surprise that it had taken so long. And of course, it would be Harry of all people. It couldn't be Neville or Luna, who she thought she might like to see.

In fact, maybe it's time to get back in contact with some old friends. Maybe this is a sign, Hermione thought, knowing full well that she didn't believe in nonsense like signs. She just wanted to check in with her old friends.

Harry's black hair was longer and more unruly than ever she'd seen it, as he ran his palms through the mess on his crown, ruffling as though this would style it.

"God, he looks like his father," Severus said.

And as though the gruff intonation of his old Potions professor's had gained his attention, Harry snapped his head upwards towards them. He looked flushed, stressed, as he stooped down behind him and scooped up a young boy into one arm and carried three shopping bags in the other. As he looked back at them, his eyes focused on Hermione and he smiled- a real smile, that wrinkled his eyes. Then he took in the group with which Hermione stood, and Harry's smile faltered. Hermione felt a grumble of irritation as she watched him regard them, then to her surprise, he began to walk over.

"Ten pounds says that he hexes one of us," Lucius said from behind a stiff smile and Draco snickered.

"Come on," Jess said. "Let's head in," and the Malfoys disappeared into the café.

Hermione felt her heart quicken beneath the layers that surrounded her – her shirt, her jumper, her scarf tucked neatly into her coat. She hoped that nobody else could hear it as it started to pound. She had no reason to be afraid. This was Harry – her best friend of fourteen years. Yet she was anxious, anyway; unsure if Harry still felt the same way. There had been so much love between them once. Was it possible that you could lose that sort of affection? Hermione didn't think so, because as he stepped closer, and she saw how his face was mirrored in his son's, and how the child looked more like the boy she had once known than the man who stood before her, she felt warm.

Like coming home, she thought.

"Hermione," he said, cheerfully. "It's been so long," and opened his arms to embrace her.

The young boy in his arms must have received a mouthful of Hermione's hair but he did not complain. However, Severus seemed less comfortable, and she felt his body stiffen beside her as Harry said, "it's good to see you Sna— Severus…"

Severus nodded, sternly, and Harry's genuine smile fell a tad lopsided. A nod was about as good as Harry could expect. They'd come to a begrudging understanding all those years ago. Harry had been the one to speak on Severus' behalf and keep him out of Azkaban, after all. But respect and friendship were not the same thing. Especially not to Severus. He respected many, but the gift of his friendship was one he reserved for only those close to him. If Harry thought that a little something like keeping him out of prison would endear Severus to him then he was sorely mistaken. Hermione had saved his life and it had taken weeks for him to even want to express his thanks.

There was, Hermione thought, nothing more precious than Severus' friendship because with it came an unwavering, undying loyalty – that meant he would even go against his better judgment in the name of friendship. Noble and ridiculous as he was.

"I heard you got married. I'm so happy for you, Hermione," he said. "For both of you."

This wasn't exactly the reaction she'd anticipated. She was quite used to questions when it came to her relationship.

"Thank you," she said, caught off guard by his easy acceptance. "How's Ginny?"

"She's great. Although she's heavily pregnant—"

Hermione took a second to process the news. The initial sting never really got easier, no matter how happy she was to hear it.

"What wonderful news," she said, pleased to find she meant it.

"A girl," he said. "We're thinking of calling her Lily."

Harry glanced at Severus cautiously, who looked a just as uncomfortable as he peered back, giving him a stiff smile.

"That's lovely," Hermione said.

"No kids for you two?" Harry asked.

They always ask. At least this time—

Severus responded for her, dropping his hand to clasp hers.

"Not yet," he said solemnly.

"I've been meaning to ask. How is Ronald?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. "I've not heard anything about him for years. It's like he fell off the face of the earth."

It was this that changed the air between them.

"God, I'm so sorry about all of that Hermione. I didn't want to choose sides. You know me, I was always caught in the middle of your arguments and this time I was —"

Hermione wondered if she was scowling, because he shut his mouth, tightly.

"No, you're right," he said. "No excuses. I'm sorry. I hope that you'll forgive me… and Ginny. I know she's uncomfortable with how things were left too—"

"No need," Hermione said, and Severus cleared his throat beside her. "Honestly," she said, ignoring Severus. "It's all water under the bridge. I really want to know. How is he?"

"Ron's in Romania, Hermione," Harry said, his face screwed up with confusion. "I thought you knew…"

"Romania? What the hell for?"

"He lives there. He works with Charlie… with Dragons."

"Why?" she asked, her face just as screwed up, looking just as ridiculous as Harry, she assumed.

"Well," Harry said, with a glance towards Severus. "He was under the impression that if he didn't leave the country, he wouldn't live to see his 30th birthday."

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I wonder what gave him that idea," Hermione said, glaring at Severus, with a smile on her own lips to show him that she was not really angry with him.

"It sounds to me, Hermione, that for once in his life Ronald Weasley did something right."

:

S.

Severus unfastened his belt and placed the day's Prophet at the side of the toilet, ready for his favourite part of his morning routine. Just as he was flicking through to find the article that he'd been looking forward to – changes to the Dark Arts curriculum at Hogwarts - he was disturbed by clattering above him that drew his attention outside the room, instead of to the paper. And what was the point in bringing a paper to the bathroom if your wife insists on making all that noise?

He heard her thump down the stairs like she was being chased, and he wondered for a moment if she was.

"Bloody hell, woman," Severus said, as she began to pound on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Open up," she said. "Please."

She didn't sound like she was in trouble. Nor did she sound stressed.

She's fine, he told himself, as the knocking came again.

"Oh my God," she said. "Open the door."

"I was just about to take a dump, for Christ's sake, Hermione."

"I can't wait!"

"Tell that to my arsehole."

A man can't even shit in peace, he thought.

He rolled his eyes as Hermione flung something under the door.

"Fine," he said, buttoning his trousers and readjusting his belt, "I'll bite," as he reached down to collect the chunk of white plastic from the floor.

The white plastic test.

The pregnancy test.

The positive pregnancy test.

"Hermione?" he asked, pulling open the door with shaking fingers. "Are you serious?"

She nodded, clutching a second, positive pregnancy test to her chest. The look on her face was both exhilarated and terrified, or somewhere in the middle, echoing the sentiments he felt.

"This is how you choose to tell me?" he asked, incredulously, gesturing to the bathroom behind him.

He just stared at her – this brilliant, incredible, beautiful, ridiculous woman who had given him more than he would even have dreamed to ask for.

He opened his mouth to say something meaningful, to find the right words to tell her all of the things that she needed to know, to express all of the ways that he felt, but he couldn't find them, and so he closed his mouth.

He and Hermione had come so far in their relationship. They'd misunderstood one another in the beginning. They'd lied to one another. He'd taken so long to finally find the courage to admit to himself how he'd felt about her. Then he'd taken his sweet time coming around to the idea of actually telling her how he felt. He'd tricked her into admitting her feelings. Then he'd struggled to be open – fought the instincts that told him to hide things from her – and eventually, he'd found that being honest with her wasn't as difficult as he'd thought. They'd learned to understand one another; they'd learned to love one another. They'd learned each other's languages – they were past mix-ups and miscommunications. Sometimes, they found that they could anticipate what the other was thinking. God, they'd even learned to fight with one another. It had been hard, but they'd made it.

They had finally learned how to communicate. So why was it that now, when it seemed so important that he articulate his feelings that he found himself without words?

Severus pulled her into his arms and clung on to her as though he could express himself without the words, because, he decided, really there were no words to properly encompass the enormity of his feelings, or how happy she had made him.

"Hermione, I can't even begin to express—"

She shifted her weight onto her tiptoes so that she could interrupt him with a kiss.

"You don't have to, my love. I already know."

AN: And that's it.

I know that perhaps this wasn't the story that you expected, but I hoped you liked it anyway! It was so much fun to write two characters who are always in their head and help them follow their heart (gross, hahah)

Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed etc. Especially those who reviewed numerous times and kept me trudging through when I was finding it difficult to write. You the real MVPs. Love you all!
Hopefully see you soon... but not too soon. I got shit to do!

K xxx