Apologies for any mistakes at about the mid-point. I added a big chunk today and probably fumbled over a few words. We're all done now. Love to you all. See you around here soon!
Epilogue
Within three months, Severus rented a house four streets away from her small bungalow. Rowan spent a week complaining about it: his father was here, and why shouldn't they live together as a family? Hermione wisely did not voice any opinion at all on the subject, for she did not trust herself. Her body betrayed her when Severus was around, and he was with them often. Since the night when she sat down with Rowan in the living room, with Severus waiting in the kitchen, they had hardly been apart. She had watched, fascinated and in awe, as he had walked into the room and sat on the couch by the fire, as if he had always been here with them. Rowan hadn't known where to look or what to say. He'd been overwhelmed, lost. Scared. Time, patience, and Snape's inability to restrain himself around Christmas gifts only a week later had done much to soothe the boy's timidity.
Rowan had been like a new child for a time. He had wanted to spend hours with Severus and she let him, taking him in late each afternoon to feed him dinner and put him to bed. There were months where he had weekly tantrums at home, screaming at her and banging his fists on the walls. Severus had apologised profusely, swearing that he had done nothing to upset the boy. But Hermione had seen this before in her child; she'd known what it was to withstand the storm of the boy's world being upended around him as a two year old when he had come to stay in the little home in Inverness. She knew, too, how to let Rowan test her, and how to be patient and show him that she was still the same Minny and he was still the same Rowan. It comforted her to know that some things were still the same about him: he still had to be sure of love, to know that it would not go away.
/
Rowan is nine
"I thought we might have dinner together," Severus said hesitantly. He was standing on the threshold to her home.
Hermione frowned and spread her hands. "We do that every night. Almost every night, anyway."
The wizard cocked an eyebrow. She leant against the door frame, appreciating how he looked in his winter coat and jeans.
"You and I," he said slowly. "Rowan said he was seeing the Weasleys…"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, suddenly nervous. "If you want to. I mean, I wasn't going to do anything for myself, I usually just—"
He glowered at her and gestured for her to follow him. She closed the door and refused to run to catch up with him. Eventually he turned with a huff and waited.
"I've cooked," he growled.
"Don't bowl me over with happiness, now," she said drily, but she was grinning when she met his small smirk.
/
/
Rowan is ten
"This Christmas," said Rowan, "I want… a broom. And a cauldron set. And Uncle George said I could have one of his testers of that—"
"I think not," Severus boomed imperiously from the laboratory in his back garden.
Hermione stifled a laugh. She was sitting in his makeshift library, reading a tome as Rowan practiced throwing a quaffle through the hoop Severus had installed against the fence. He really was quite good. She had made an effort to learn about the sport, though it was Severus' job to watch the weekly Friday evening matches on the Welly. How anyone thought a wizarding telly should be shortened to such a name was beyond her.
Rowan was not one to be dissuaded. He began to make his case, his voice rising with anger each time Severus flatly denied the request. Hermione thought about going to the older man and telling him he really had no hope of stopping a Weasley promise, but then decided not to. It was good for Rowan to have it out with his father. She rose from the chair and marked her spot with a whispered spell before heading out the door and back to her own house.
/
Both males were with her that night, Rowan asleep and Severus swaying on the couch. He was absolutely knocked over by whisky. Somehow, though, he managed to speak with perfect clarity.
"He told me that he deserved to get something he had been promised. And that I would never know about what that meant because I was gone for so long."
"Oh," Hermione said, wincing. She took a sip of wine in sympathy. "Yes, he has a way with words. He can really get you. Did you let him see that it hurt?"
"Couldn't stop it," he mumbled morosely. "Thought I was going to bloody cry."
"Well, that's good then," she praised. "It's important for him to see the impact of things he says. You wait: he'll be extra nice to you tomorrow. It's his way of making up for it."
"I wish I knew that about him."
"You will," she said fervently. "Look how far you've both come. You're his father, Severus."
He gave a completely uncharacteristic beam of a smile. "Yes. I feel like it. Is this what it's like? To love someone so much that it feels like your heart is being torn each time they leave your sight?"
"It could be."
"Was that insensitive?"
"No," she said, trying not to sound so fond of him. "It's true that I can't be the one to tell you what it's like to be a parent. But… I think it is as you said."
"Tell me what it's like for you."
She'd bared her soul to him so often that now was no different. "It's like the biggest gift in the world. I have someone to love for the rest of my life. I haven't been truly alone for six years and I never will be again. And there are times when he looks at me and I feel that if I achieve nothing else in life, I have made sure that he knows he is loved. And at the same time, sometimes the guilt is suffocating."
He uttered a low, pained groan. "Don't feel guilty. I hate that you feel guilty."
"How could I not? I have what I have because his mother died, Severus. My happiness is—"
Severus reached over and put his fingers to her lips. Her eyes flew to his. He began to speak then stopped, opting to keep his hand upon her lips, as a slow and shy smile spread over her mouth. As soon as the spell began it ended, and he took his hand away abruptly.
Severus' head fell onto the back of the couch. He sat silently with his eyes closed, and she took the chance to really look at him.
In the firelight, he was full of extremes. His black hair and golden skin. His tall, thin body that did not hint at his strength. His hands, long-fingered yet full of scars and old burn marks. Hermione put down her wine and went to sit beside him. He held himself utterly still. She knew he was awake.
She thought about saying something. They'd been having dinners alone together every month for a while, and beyond that, they shared the intimacy of parenting a child.
"Did you love her?" Hermione whispered instead, hating herself for it.
Severus opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. "No. I should have. It wasn't like that."
"How do you know you didn't?" she breathed.
"I know," he said.
They stared each other by the light of the fire. The Christmas tree stood twinkling in the corner. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to kiss her, so she wouldn't have to take the leap and risk everything. She wanted to slide her hands under his shirt and touch his skin in the golden light. She wanted to know what it was to have him inside of her, his body filling her the same way he rarely left her mind.
But she was terrified. If she lost him…
"Good night, Severus," she murmured. "Stay here. I'll get you a blanket."
By the time she returned, he was already gone.
/
A month later, she was alone. Rowan was at Severus' for the night. She was sitting up in bed, a book lying face down, forgotten, on her lap.
Four years.
Four years since he'd shocked her into silence with his return to her world. In that time she'd worked more, starting up to full-time hours again. She'd grappled with the guilt and misplaced anger that burned in her each time she forced herself not to be possessive with sharing Rowan. She'd dealt with her nature to want to fix everything. She'd put Severus and Rowan's relationship aside in her mind, not wanting to make them a project.
But she still wondered.
Hermione tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. She'd been thinking about their conversation – it hadn't left her. How did he know he hadn't loved Charity? What had he done with her? What was it like?
She was aware, too, that pondering those thoughts to no end probably meant that she…
/
He didn't bother to knock on the door.
"Severus," she greeted him, shoving her hair out of the way. "I didn't know you were at home."
"The conference finished early," he explained, trudging fully into the kitchen. He paused, staring at her as she washed the dirt out from under her nails. "What are you doing?"
"I finally planted those flowers Rowan bought me for Mother's Day. Mum must've helped him to find things that didn't mind languishing in a pot for…"
"Months?"
"Shush," she admonished him, grinning.
Severus' lips quirked into a grin. He eased around her, reaching for the kettle. School was due to finish in an hour. She'd reverted back to finishing early so he could attend some fancy Masters weeklong conference in Belgium. She took in his clothes out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he had worn his jeans like that in Belgium, with that long coat she wanted to burrow into. And if he had, surely others would have noticed that…
He made the tea, waiting until she dried her hands to hand her a cup. He met her gaze and gestured with his head to the garden.
"You asked me about Charity," he began, staring resolutely at the grass.
She was full of embarrassment. "You don't have to tell me! It's none of my business."
"You've mothered my child. Of course it's your business."
Hermione found herself speechless. She drank the tea instead.
Gruff and awkward, he leant forward until his long black hair obscured his face. She closed her eyes and listened.
"We were… the arrangement we had…" Severus cleared his throat and started again. "We were friends, sort of. We both wanted… comfort. Things escalated quickly; we both didn't think of…"
If it were anyone else, Hermione would have scoffed. She was a dedicated planner. She'd been on a long-lasting dose of contraceptive potion since Ron gave her a certain look in sixth year.
"Go on," she managed.
"I didn't want her to keep the child," Severus admitted tensely. "Which ended whatever it was that we… had."
"You didn't want to bring a child into war."
"She lived moment by moment."
"And after he was born? What then?"
He put the teacup on the little iron table and pushed his hair behind his eyes. His black eyes were warm from something long considered.
"I was captivated."
"Of course you were," she breathed, reaching for his hand. "He's beautiful. I wish I could have seen him as a baby."
Severus let his wand slide from where it was perpetually kept in his right-hand sleeve. "Here. See." He focused for a long moment, then drew a careful square in the air before them. A picture of a tiny baby filled the frame.
"Oh my goodness." Hermione stood up and walked closer to the image, staring avidly. "Look at him."
"Sometimes I wish he was that small again. Before he learnt how to argue."
She snorted and returned to his side. "Let's talk about something else. All our conversations revolve around him." Swivelling, she faced him and tapped her chin with her finger as she gathered her thoughts. "What's your favourite brand of tea?"
"Or what about this: what did you do with yourself for all those years Hermione? Weren't you lonely?"
He was giving her a look that she couldn't interpret.
"No-ooo," she said awkwardly. "Well, sometimes. Not really though."
Severus tipped the remainder of the tea into his mouth. "I was."
"I can only take Kingsley in small doses. I understand," she replied, giving him an exaggerated wink. He wasn't one to laugh, not really, but he gave a quiet huff of amusement.
She gave herself a pinch to force some confidence into her. "And are you still? Lonely?"
Severus stood up. He seemed so much taller to her now than he had in the past. He checked his watch. "I'll do the school run."
"You didn't answer me!" she called to his retreating back.
He half-turned and offered a quick, shy grin. "No-ooo," he murmured, quoting her, before he entered the house. The front door closed with a click not long after.
"Interesting." She caught herself before she said anything further out loud in the garden. Taking the tea cups back inside, Hermione only noticed once she'd put them in the sink that her hands were trembling.
/
/
Rowan is eleven
Platform nine and three-quarters was the same as it always was. Parents wept and students put on brave faces if they were younger, and bored faces if they were older.
"Was it like this when you were here, Dad?" Rowan asked quietly. He hadn't left their side.
Hermione looked at him fondly. He looked beautiful in his school robes, though she had taken to railing against the barbaric practice of boarding school whenever he wasn't with her. She already ached with sadness at the idea of going home to an empty house.
Severus squeezed her arm but he only had eyes for Rowan. A good thing, she was sure, given the many stares that they were receiving.
"It was," he rumbled. "I don't think it ever changes."
"I want to be in the same House that Teddy gets," Rowan said. He was so nervous that he was trembling. "Will you come and visit me?"
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him honestly that most parents never managed to get permission from the school to do such a thing but Severus cut her off.
"Yes," he said firmly. She gaped at him. "Watch Professor McGonagall try and stop me," he growled, pulling his son into his arms. "I'll be there. I've already arranged it. And you can write to us every day. I love you, Rowan."
"Yes, every day!" Hermione echoed, throwing her arms around them both. "We'll always be here for you, sweetheart. I love you, my darling boy."
Rowan wriggled out of their hold and tried to smooth down his hair. "I don't want to g—"
"Rowan!"
There was a head of purple hair making its way through the crowd. Rowan promptly shut his mouth and gave Hermione and Severus swift hugs, then grabbed the strap of his trunk.
"Bye, Minny! Bye, Dad!"
"Wait, Rowan, hang on—"
She went to draw him back but Severus took her hand instead and stepped behind her, his other hand on her shoulder.
"Let him go," he said into her ear.
Rowan looked back before he got on the train and waved. "Love you!" he called.
She thrust her hand in the air and waved madly. "We love you too!" she cried.
She gave a last attempt to run to him but Severus wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his warm, solid body.
"He's all right. Look at him."
Rowan's cheerful grin appeared at a window. He waved once more, then turned away to his friends.
"He'll be back," Severus crooned, rubbing her shoulders. "You can let him go for now."
And she did.
"I'm sorry,'' she mumbled an hour later, finally leaving his chest to reach for a handkerchief. "I didn't even cry that much when he went to primary school in Hogsmeade. I wasn't prepared for it."
She looked up to catch him hurriedly wiping under his own eyes, and she loved him more for it.
"Neither was I," Severus admitted, pressing his fingers to his forehead. "I'll miss him. I hate the school."
"Me too!" Hermione exploded. She jumped up and stormed to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She rarely did anything more than make tea these days. Severus had quietly taken over cooking for them, tactfully never mentioning it.
"It's barbaric! Ripping children away from their parents. At eleven!" She came back and pointed a teabag at his face. "Do you remember how you felt when you got there? I was terrified! Eleven! Ugh!" Whirling away, she went back and poured the water. With a scowl, she added a drop of whisky to each cup.
"Here," she said, returning to the lounge. "Who the fuck thinks up these rules?"
Severus snorted with mirth. His black eyes were warm as he patted the couch beside him. "Sit down. And why the fuck would I want to know about such an obviously awful and masochistic person?"
"Exactly!" She sipped her tea. "Thank you for your enthusiasm."
"Oh, anytime," he drawled. They sat in silence for a moment, but then he put his cup down and slowly, ever so slowly, rested his hand on her knee. She hardly dared breathe.
"I was glad to be there when I was eleven. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me then."
"I know," she said, turning to fold one knee in under her and face him fully. He let his hand hover until she was settled, then let it fall gently on her knee again. His palm was warm.
"I wasn't thinking when I said it," she whispered. She didn't know where to look. He filled her senses.
"No," Severus agreed.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. She shifted a little closer. He did nothing but watch as she did it again, until his mouth was there, right there.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered.
He sighed and cupped her cheek. "You won't," he said. "I promise you: you won't."
She leant into his touch, closing her eyes. "I've thought about you since you came back. I haven't been able to stop."
"I've learned that I despise time wasted," Severus murmured, bending his head. His lips were almost on hers. She could feel his soft mouth move as he spoke. "I should have done this when you asked me. You asked how I knew myself. How I knew when I loved someone and when I didn't."
She couldn't speak. She pushed herself forward but he held her there, so achingly close.
"I knew then, and I know now, Hermione. You won't lose me, because I love you, and I will be here for as long as you will put up with me."
"You'll be here for a while then," she said, smiling against his mouth. "I thought you said you despise wasting—"
He pressed his mouth to hers. Just a teasing touch. His lips were warm and sweet.
Severus pulled back, just enough to see her face. Hermione could not hold back her smile.
"Again," she said.
/
The end.