Previously: "Are you ready for tomorrow?" she asked. Outside the pages of her notebook, she didn't quite have the nerve to add, Are you ready for me to Side-Along you to my bedroom?

"More than ready. I could have lived a full, meaningful life without magic, but under no circumstances can I do so as Neville Longbottom."

Chapter Sixteen: The End

They performed the procedure in Kraggok's cottage. Few people could get past the wards; Kraggok had to add Neville and Eileen to the guest list. Ron and Harry stood guard at the door, while Eileen helped Hermione with her task. There was no talk of energy and lucky knives; Eileen was all business.

Hermione checked and double-checked her supplies. The glass box that had held Severus during his long sleep had been expanded—wide enough for two wizards to stretch out side by side.

"You're sure this will work?" Neville asked.

"As certain as I can possibly be," Severus said. "This is, I believe, safer than my original plan of temporarily transferring our souls into inanimate objects. The box will hold us in a stasis of sorts, as it did for me before. Neither of our souls will be able to escape the box. Useful, should any hungry Dementors happen past. We will, however, remain trapped there until someone who is keyed into the spell releases us."

"So if something happens to them, we could end up stuck in there for another few decades?" Neville asked

"Kraggok could have released me at any point, had I asked. He will be able to communicate with us. Additionally, I have yet to see Hermione be anything less than punctual with an assignment."

"Well, that's a fair point." Neville pulled Hermione into a one-armed hug. "I trust you."

Turning into the embrace, Hermione squeezed her friend tight.

"Granger," Severus said with a quiet chuckle. "Stop manhandling me."

"If you lot are quite ready," Kraggok said, "I would like to get on with this so I can get some painting in while the light is still good."

Hermione kissed both Severus and Neville on the cheek before they climbed into the box. As breathless and shaky as she'd been during her first few days as a newly qualified Healer, she placed a hand over her pounding heart. The magic was sound. She knew it was. They would be okay.

Downing the potion, Severus and Neville joined hands to create a link for the transfer. Hermione and Eileen had five minutes to cast the required charms and seal the box (with Kraggok's help) before the potion took effect.

Something swirled around Severus and Neville's clasped hands. It reminded Hermione of the transparent, silvery form of a ghost, but there was something else to it—a tinge of colours that were nowhere to be found in Nearly Headless Nick or the Grey Lady. Something alive. One stream was stained dark blue, almost the same shade as Severus's Polyjuice Potion. The other was a vibrant green, like light filtered through leaves.

As the almost-ghostly shapes flowed between Severus and Neville's clasped hands, Hermione imagined what it would be like to feel them through the cool glass. It would be nothing like a Horcrux. There would be no dark thoughts, no probing at her worst fears. It would feel… like them. Like sarcasm and cleverness and bravery and misanthropy and kindness and loyalty.

The magic faded. Hermione hadn't seen Severus in his enchanted sleep before. She had stumbled onto the scene after Ron had already dissolved the spell. Now she could see why Lily still believed she'd fallen into a fairy tale that day, finding a Severus-shaped Snow White. He was so still and quiet. Hermione wanted to dash in like the hero of the story and wake him with a kiss.

Placing a gnarled hand on the glass, Kraggok said something in a soothing voice, too low for Hermione to make out, then gave a satisfied nod.

Had it worked?

One faltering step forward and a brush of Hermione's fingertips, and the lid of the box lifted, its rusty hinges creaking. Severus and Neville opened their eyes and laughed.

"Longbottom," Severus said—in his own voice. In his own body. "I never thought I would be happy to see your face."

"Likewise."

Climbing out of the box, Severus straightened the cuffs of his sleeves and took stock of his body. Hermione hardly noticed Neville catching his foot on the edge of the glass box and nearly falling over.

"Not used to this body anymore," Neville said. "Was I always this…"

"Muscular?" Eileen said.

Neville blushed.

"Let me examine you both," Hermione said. "Just to be sure you're all right."

They put up with her scanning charms with minimal grumbling, though she thought she caught something about "foolish wand waving" from Severus. They seemed fine. Severus's readings were just like the ones she'd taken the first day he woke up.

"Is it over?" Ron asked, peering into the room.

"Yeah," Neville said, beaming. "We're all sorted."

Crossing the room in a few strides, Ron grabbed Neville's face and kissed him full on the mouth. That answered Hermione's question of whether Ron had told Neville how he felt. Or maybe Ron had done nothing of the sort, and this was his way of letting Neville know. Either way, Neville didn't seem at all surprised, though his blush did deepen.

"Right," Kraggok said. "Now that's done, I have paintings to finish."

Neville and Ron were the first to listen. Hand-in-hand, they strolled out of the cottage and towards the woods. Like they had all the time in the world. It wasn't a long walk, Hermione supposed, but in her notebook, she had promised Apparition directly to her bedroom. And now Severus was in front of her, fully himself. Gods.

She gave him a little smile, half-expecting a barb about her flagging Gryffindor courage. Instead, his expression was closed-off. Icy.

Oh. He was nervous, too. That made it easier to take his hand and give it a little squeeze. She waited for him to squeeze back before concentrating on her bedroom and turning on the spot.

She had spent the morning bringing out every cleaning spell she knew, polishing the wood floor, banishing every cobweb, freshening the already clean bed linen. The contents of her knicker drawer had been scrutinised and over-analysed. It had been so long since she had done anything like this. It gave her that fluttery, night before an exam feeling.

Severus didn't give the room so much as a momentary glance. He looked at her. She swore she could feel that look. A held breath stretched out between them, and then both moved at once—lips meeting, hands slipping beneath shirts, fingers fumbling with an absurd number of buttons.

The matching set of bra and knickers she had spent so long fretting over were peeled away in an instant, but Hermione didn't care. Not when Severus replaced satin and lace with his hands and mouth and tongue. Hermione couldn't drag him towards the bed quickly enough, but as she fell back onto the duvet, he suddenly seemed inclined to take his time.

"Yes?" he said, breath warming her inner thigh, lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.

"Yes."

Digging his fingers into her hips, he held her steady as his head dipped between her legs. That deep voice of his rumbled out a pleased groan.

Hermione had always struggled with fully letting go. Too many thoughts always swirled in her head, self doubt bumping shoulders with her ever-expanding to-do list. It made her feel too vulnerable, too seen. With Severus, when she looked down and caught his gaze, his dark eyes made her feel safe, rather than exposed. Let go, that look said. I've got you.

God. This had to be another Patented Daydream Charm. Threading her fingers through his hair, crying out as his mouth moved against her—it had to be a fantasy. A bloody good fantasy, but still. Obeying that look of his, she let herself go.

He made another moan, sounding rather pleased with himself. Well. He had a right to be. Giggling, Hermione gave his hands a tug. As he rose up onto his knees, she got her first good look at his naked body: pale and lean and scarred. Tracing her fingertips along a white line that slashed across his lower abdomen, she smiled at him.

Oh, this was absolutely real.

"Lie back," she said. And then it was her turn to take him into her mouth—to make him gasp and curse under his breath. There was something intoxicating about making this man lose his tightly-held control. Something that made her feel powerful—invincible.

"Come here," he said in a commanding tone.

She'd barely just started, but she let him coax her up his body and straddled his hips. And, gods, it had been so long. As she lowered herself down on him, she was once again the one gasping, cursing, biting her lip against the urge to beg. His dark eyes widened, brows raising in a silent question she didn't understand until he skimmed against her mental shields. It was the lightest touch—a flirtation, rather than invasion—but she got the point.

"Yes," she said again.

One push, and he was there, inside her thoughts as he moved inside her. It was like nothing she'd ever felt. He could sense where she wanted his hands. He knew the way she needed him to tilt his hips just so. Some snarky corner of her mind wanted to tease and needle him about gaining an unfair advantage, but that part got smothered under a wave of pure sensation. Gripping his shoulders, she hardly dared to blink, not wanting to break the connection. Even when the rising tension shattered, overwhelming her, she refused to allow her eyes to close. Severus kept his gaze locked with hers the whole time—as he shuddered and moaned, as their movements slowed to a trembling stop.

Sighing, Hermione let her body sag on top of his. With her ear against his chest, the steady, soothing thrum of his heartbeat nearly lulled her to sleep.

"I've never done that before," she said through a yawn.

Severus snorted.

"Not that. I meant using Legilimency during sex."

"Ah. And? What is your verdict?"

"When can we do that again?"

Severus woke to Hermione lifting the duvet and looking at his arse.

"May I help you?" he drawled.

"Nope. I have all I need, thank you." She huffed. "I thought so. Neville is a liar."

Severus blinked some of the sleep from his eyes. "Elaborate, please."

"He told me he got a Go, Go Gryffindor tattoo on your arse. I knew he wouldn't actually do it."

How extraordinary that he was allowed to laugh, grab her by the waist, and haul her on top of him. He would have done far more than kiss her smiling mouth, but an irritating, all too familiar voice interrupted them.

"Hermione? Are you there?"

Potter.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, patting Severus's chest. "I need to get that. It might be something about the kids."

Being involved with a mother of two was uncharted territory for Severus, but he should have expected interruptions. Students had pounded on his door at all hours for the better part of eighteen years. Transfiguring a pillowcase into a dressing gown, he followed her into the lounge, where Potter looked up at them from the fireplace.

A familiar expression came over Potter's face upon seeing the two of them in a state of dishabille. It took Severus a moment to work out why it irritated him so. Apart from it being, well, Potter's face, it was the same expression Potter used to get in Potions class when trying to work out where he'd gone wrong with his brewing.

Gods. Severus was never, ever teaching again.

"Harry?" Hermione said. "Is everything all right with Hugo and Rose?"

"Hi," Potter said. "Yeah, they're fine. Err. Right. I've just been told Rita's trial has been scheduled for next Tuesday. You'll never guess how they're planning to transport her between her cell and the trial."

"Unbreakable jar?" Hermione said with a laugh.

"Yeah, actually. There was some concern about her escaping. Azkaban has had anti-Animagus transformation wards since the end of the war, but holding the spell while transporting someone can be tricky."

"How can that be, when you managed it?" Severus said. Hermione gave his arm a light swat.

Laughing, Potter shook his head. "That's what I said. There was a lot of fretting and back and forth about whether that was the best option, and finally I asked if they wanted to know how Hermione carried Rita around in fourth year. And, well, they went for it. Rita will be reliving old times."

Potter had proved to be nearly competent for a second time. Severus definitely needed to lie down until that thought went away.

Eileen made the best tea. There was some secret technique that made it taste like the cups Hermione's mum always made for her. The closest her mother ever got to performing magic. Nestled in Eileen's window seat, Hermione sipped the magical brew.

"Have you decided what to do with your share?" Luna asked.

Their share. Hermione sighed. After the war, a sudden deluge of Death Eater autobiographies, written from the newly Dementor-free Azkaban, had prompted a new law that prohibited prisoners from receiving any profits from their crimes. The proceeds of the Death Eaters' books had gone to the families of their victims. Most of Rita's victims were Muggles who remained unaware of the existence of the wizarding world. The Wizengamot had decided that David, Severus, Eileen, and Hermione would receive Rita's profits. Which didn't strike Hermione as entirely fair. Perhaps she would engineer a way for some of the Muggles to have mysterious lottery wins.

"I'm not sure," Eileen said. "I have all I need with my shop. After I pay Severus back, I suppose the rest could go to charity." Pausing, Eileen dusted some biscuit crumbs off of her fingers. "What charity do you suppose Rita would hate the most?"

Luna hummed. "I know of a very nice Crumple-Horned Snorkack reserve in Sweden."

Hermione did not see how this was possible when no one—including Luna—had ever found evidence of the beasts' existence. She loved Luna, but honestly. She could not let Eileen give all those Galleons to some charlatan in Scandinavia. Even if it would infuriate Rita.

"Do you?" Eileen asked before Hermione could speak up. How could Severus Snape's mother look so credulous about anything? "That sounds fascinating."

"I was thinking about splitting my share between a few of the Muggle victims, if I can manage it without drawing attention, and the Janus Thickey ward," Hermione said. "They're the only ones in the country who are making any real progress with new methods to reverse memory damage, so it seems fitting."

"Oh, that does sound like a sensible plan," Eileen said. "Maybe I'll do the same."

Luna seemed unbothered, smiling serenely at them both as she stirred a spoonful of what looked like black treacle into her tea. Good Lord.

Satisfied (if somewhat disturbed), Hermione let her mind wander back to the trial as she drank her own uncorrupted tea. Seeing Rita marched into the courtroom in that glass jar hadn't been Schadenfreude at its finest, like Hermione had expected. Mostly, she had been exhausted and horrified that it had reached this point. Severus had no such reservations. The announcement of the guilty verdict had felt more like a relief than a triumph. It was finally over, and with all of her consecutive sentences, Rita would never be allowed to hurt anyone ever again.

"Have you ever thought about writing?" Luna asked, her dreamy voice pulling Hermione out of her thoughts.

"To what end? Telling my side of the story?" Eileen shrugged. "Why bother? I'm fine as I am. Customers are almost universally horrible, but apart from that, the Muggles treat me well enough. I don't need anyone's approval."

"No, not about all of that," Luna said. "I was thinking about what you said before about clashing energies and how to select the best tools for brewing potions. Have you ever heard of Wrackspurts?"

"I haven't." Eileen leaned forward. "What are they?"

Hermione hid her smile by taking another sip of tea. A collaboration between Luna and Eileen. Severus was going to be thrilled.

For the Christmas party, Lily decided she was a goblin queen. She reached this conclusion mostly because Kraggok was proving to be such fun. After Mr Snape (Mr, not Professor, as he'd said he was mercifully no longer anyone's teacher) had introduced Lily and Hugo to his goblin friend, Lily had taken the initiative and invited Kraggok to join her and Hugo in using a few of Uncle George's inventions on the party guests.

It was a good thing she had, too, because as always, Hugo fretted about breaking the rules. Honestly. She couldn't take him anywhere.

Leading Kraggok and Hugo through the dining room, Lily kept an eye out for their next victim. They probably needed to give Uncle Percy a break for a while. Two figures stood close together in the frozen garden, just beyond the patio doors: Aunt Hermione and Mr Snape.

"No," Hugo whispered. "I'll get in so much trouble."

"I won't do anything," Lily said.

Listening in on their conversation didn't count as doing anything, did it? Lily was just curious. Aunt Hermione appreciated curiosity. And if Lily happened to drop a magical whoopee cushion onto one of the garden chairs, that could be waved away as an accident.

"You couldn't get away with it if you tried," Kraggok said.

She so could. Aunt Hermione and Mr Snape had left the door open a crack, letting in frosty air as well as the low murmur of their voices. They really did look like something out of a fairy tale like this: a prince and princess trapped in an ice queen's kingdom. Maybe Lily, as a goblin queen, had the power to bring about the thaw of spring and save them. Holding her breath, she crept closer.

"I suppose you are going to insist upon telling Ronald that the children sneaked a Canary Cream onto his plate of biscuits," Mr Snape said.

Aunt Hermione chuckled. "Of course not. I raided their supply and added several more."

Had she? Lily checked her bag and gasped. Aunt Hermione was a sneak. One corner of Mr Snape's mouth twitched.

"Granger," he said, "As I have told you before: I can only propose so many times before I start to look ridiculous."

"Careful," Aunt Hermione whispered. "One of these days I might say yes."

"Hmm. Thank you for the warning."

Laughing, Aunt Hermione wrapped her arms around him. Lily decided to leave them to it. She'd always preferred the excitement of once upon a time to the mushy happily ever after. And anyway, she could hear Aunt Muriel calling Fred and Roxanne a couple of little terrors. Aunt Hermione hadn't taken all of the Canary Creams.

The End

Notes: Credit for Neville lying about the tattoo goes to Recreational Potions, and Mersheeple was the one to suggest putting Rita back in a jar. Both ideas made me laugh so hard that I had to include them.

Thank you all for sticking with me through the sporadic updates with this one. And a huge, huge thank you to Vitellia for beta reading and Morbidmuch for alpha reading.