She ached all over.

She'd taken more hits than a civilian medic should have during the battle, and she was so tired and sore she feared she'd Splinch herself going home. She made sure Sookie was all right – and yes, maybe checking four times was an overreaction, but she couldn't afford to be careless – then wearily flicked her wand.

Eric opened his eyes when he heard the crack of the Apparition. "You're okay," he said, relief evident in his expression. He had dark circles around his eyes, and he looked absolutely ravaged: the silver-burns still smoked and sizzled whenever he moved. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, though, and that made her feel better.

"Of course," Hermione said briskly, going to his side. She reached for the chain at his throat. "Fast or slow?"

He grunted. "Fast," he said, and she closed her eyes and pulled.

When the chains were off, he was raw-skinned and trembling. She pulled her hair back and bared her throat. "Here," she said.

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Don't be ridiculous." She reached down and pulled him to a sitting position, regarding the blood trickling out of his ears and his paler-than-normal skin. "You look awful."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. At once, his fangs snapped out.

She hissed and clutched at him when he sank his teeth into her neck, but she didn't cry out or flinch away. She held onto him, stock-still, until she started to feel dizzy.

"Enough," she said.

He groaned and tightened his grip. She could hear him swallowing.

"I said enough," she repeated, and pushed at him.

Still, he held on.

"Eric," she said, a little desperately now. "Please let me go."

At last he released her. "Sorry," he said roughly, drawing his forearm across his mouth.

She fell back, gasping. "You might've drained me," she said, closing her eyes against the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake her. "Be careful next time."

He was biting his wrist, now, holding it to her lips. She flinched away.

"Come on," he said impatiently.

"I don't –" she started, intending to tell him that she'd prefer to use her Healing potion.

He interrupted before she could finish her thought. "Yes you do." He suddenly had his other hand clamped at the back of her skull, not pulling but not yielding either, and after a moment she opened her mouth.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, when she felt the wound at her neck heal. She licked her lips.

"No problem," he said. He looked at her, and at once she realized it.

"You don't remember," she said.

Comprehension lit his eyes, drew his blood-smeared mouth into a scowl. "Should I?"

She bit her lip. "Marnie's dead."

"The spell should be broken," he said. He reached up, drew her against him almost absently.

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

He was silent for a long moment.

"It's okay," he said at last.

She lifted her head and stared at him. "What do you mean, it's okay?"

He looked away. "I mean," he said, "this is enough."

"How can you say that?" She twisted in his arms, turning her back on him. "To be missing that much of yourself – Eric – "

"I don't miss that part," he said, "as long as I have you."

She felt something rising in her chest, something hot and panicked and angry. "I have to make this right," she said, pushing him away and standing up. She reached for the ladder.

"Wait," he said, sounding – what? Desperate, now. "Hermione, wait."

"I'll be back," she said, without looking at him. She spoke as she climbed. "I'll make this right, Eric. I swear it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione spent most of the afternoon at Angelique's, reading about enchanting the undead. She had just gotten the hang of the Magicbook app when Angelique snatched the iPad out of her hands.

"I've got it," she said.

"Got what?" Hermione said, trying to take the iPad back.

Angelique held it out of her reach. "You're going to thank me, oh yes," she sang, jumping to her feet. "Let me go check a few things. You be around tonight?"

"Yes – "

"Great," Angelique said, before Hermione could get in another word. "Lock up before you leave, okay?"

And she was gone.

Hermione stared in disbelief at Angelique's empty chair. It wasn't the first time Angelique had Apparated away on a whim, but it certainly couldn't have come at a worse time: Hermione was just starting to understand the complications of enchanting a vampire. She felt like she could almost – almost – understand what she might need to do to help Eric.

"Damn it, Angelique," she muttered. She stood, brushed off her jeans, and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

Coming to check on you, she typed, and sent the text to Sookie. She didn't wait for a response.

Surprisingly, Sookie looked sunny and chipper, and not at all surprised when Hermione appeared in the foyer. She handed Hermione the pint of Cherry Garcia she was eating. "Here," she said. "You look like you need this more than I do. How's Eric?"

"I find it hard to believe that you're already playing Martha Stewart," Hermione said, following Sookie into the living room.

Sookie snorted. "Please," she said. "I'm barely achieving Giada."

"I'd at least give you Barefoot Contessa." Hermione took an enormous mouthful and dropped onto the couch. "To answer your question," she added, swallowing, "Eric is fine. And by fine, I mean persistently amnesiac and perfectly happy about it."

Footsteps on the stairs.

Hermione turned to see Tara come into the living room. "Hi," she said.

"Oh." Tara looked surprised. "I thought you'd be with – right. Hi." She walked past Hermione and went into the kitchen. Hermione heard the refrigerator door open, then the clank of bottles. Tara came back in a moment later with two root beer floats. She set one in front of Sookie.

"Thanks," Sookie said. To Hermione, she said, "I can guess why."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm just not comfortable with it," she said. "For him to give up his memory, that much of himself, and substitute me instead…It isn't right."

"It's dangerous, is what it is," Tara said. She kept her gaze down, but her voice had a sudden edge. "Any time you get tangled up in fang business, but especially something like that." She looked up at Hermione with lion's eyes. "He'll think he owns you, Hermione, and you do not want that."

"He doesn't think he owns me," Hermione said uncomfortably, for hadn't Eric offered that only the night before? I could make you mine, he'd said.

Tara's scowl deepened. "Yeah. Well. Sookie's said the same thing, and it's almost gotten her killed more times than I can count."

"Tara - " Sookie started.

"Including today," Tara continued, as though Sookie hadn't spoken. She turned to Sookie. "You're just lucky Hermione had that potion with her."

Sookie nodded contritely. "I know."

"Still," Hermione said, casting a placating look at Tara, "let's never do that again, all right?"

Tara gulped the last of her root beer and stood. "No kidding," she muttered.

While she was in the kitchen, Sookie mouthed to Hermione, "Don't tell her about Eric."

Hermione nodded. It had been increasingly difficult to figure out who was supposed to know what - it only got murkier when she'd learned that the Bureau's undercover brujo was the boyfriend of one of Sookie's friends - so she'd decided it was best to keep her mouth shut around everyone but Sookie until all residual damage was repaired.

"I'm tired," Tara said, coming back into the living room. "Sook, you mind if I shower and crash for a while?"

"'Course," Sookie said. "Hermione, you want to stay too? Post-battle nap?"

Hermione shook her head. "Thanks. I'll head home."

"You're okay, Hermione," Tara said, scowling, "but I don't trust that witchcraft shit."

"For the last time, Tara, what that coven was doing wasn't witchcraft," Sookie said, sounding exasperated. "It was necromancy, and it was illegal."

"Whatever," Tara said. "It's all the same to me."

Hermione sighed. "Good night," she said. The last thing she saw before she Disapparated was Sookie rolling her eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eric would be sleeping, of course. It was still daylight for another four hours.

All the same, it was awfully difficult to keep from going down to the hatch, especially with the twitchy, anxious feeling in her stomach getting worse by the minute. It was a relief when the sun finally set and she heard Eric's voice from the basement.

"Hermione," he shouted. A second after that, the hatch door slammed and his arms were around her.

"You scared me," she said. She wanted to push him away, wanted to protest, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. And it didn't seem so bad, suddenly, that he had traded his memory for her.

He tightened his grip. "I thought you were in danger."

"You worry too much." She tilted her head back and looked at him. Reached up to push his hair off his forehead.

He bent to kiss her. "All I want," he said in a low voice, his lips against hers, "is to protect you."

She took a shuddering breath. "You already have," she said.

He trailed his tongue over her throat, her jaw, her earlobe; she moaned involuntarily. "From what you've told me," he said hoarsely, "it was my fault you needed protection in the first place."

"I'm an adult, Eric." She slid her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "I make my own choices."

He pulled back, studying her. "So you do," he said.

"And right now - " She let her lips brush his. "I am choosing to tell you that I'm fine."

His low groan rocked her, but when he pulled at her tank top, she twisted away. "I need a shower," she said.

"Hm." He reached for her again, and this time succeeded in stripping the tank top off. "So do I, fortunately."

"Well, come on, then." Hermione wriggled free. She headed for the stairs and glanced back at him.

He was watching her, blue eyes bright with intensity. "Right behind you," he said.

She led him upstairs in her bra, dodging when he tried to unclasp it. "Please," she said deprecatingly. "I am a lady."

"Too bad for me," Eric said.

In the bathroom, she was suddenly self-conscious. She turned away from him, feeling silly as she stepped out of her shorts and dropped her bra to the floor.

"It's kind of late in the game for modesty," Eric pointed out.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was nude, now, already half-hard. She faced him. "Well."

He flipped the water on with one hand and pulled her toward him with the other.

"We're wasting water," she said breathlessly.

"Better get in, then," he said.

Under the hot spray, she let her hands wander over his body. Sliding up his sides, across his chest, hearing him mumble something when she scraped her teeth over his skin. She looked up at him and saw that his fangs were out.

"You normally - " She broke off, gasping, as he rolled her left nipple between his fingers. "Do you - bite - during sex?"

Feral smile. "Sometimes."

She put her hand on the back of his neck, brought his forehead down to hers. Wrapped her other hand firmly around his cock. He hissed, his hips jerking toward her.

"If you want to - " she said, feeling flushed and hot, feeling the slickness between her thighs - "you can bite me."

Low laughter. "I always want to," he said, and then his mouth was at her throat, his fangs pressing against her skin.

She stiffened, hissed, clutched at him. It was different now; this time, the sharp pain at her neck was spiked with arousal and need. And when his long fingers pressed against her, slipping over swollen hills and flooded valleys, she was oh so thankful that he was holding her up because she thought she might pass out from the sweetness of it. The heat in her body swirled and circled and focused and she gritted out "More" and he was lifting her then, opening her, sliding into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer, moving against him. She came with her teeth sunk into his shoulder, with his mouth still on her neck.

"Good lord," she said, when she could speak again. "Eric." Seeing the dark swirls of red running clockwise down the drain.

He bit his wrist and held it to her mouth and she drank, willingly this time, feeling the pinch of pain at her throat fade into nothing, feeling the warm, heady buzz of his blood in every cell of her body.

"My turn," he rasped, and still buried in her, with her legs around his waist, he stepped out of the shower and carried her to her bed.

She was expecting him to lay her down, but maybe that was too gentlemanly for a Viking, or maybe he didn't have the patience. Instead he sat on the bed dripping wet. She braced herself against the mattress and he leaned back on his elbows, fangs out, watching her intently as she rocked and moaned against him.

"I'm undone," he said at last, after he'd come for the fourth time, and Hermione made a mental note to pay more attention to vampire sexual physiology next time.

"I think it's your blood," Hermione said, grimacing as he slid out of her. "I promise you, I'm normally not like this."

"I like you like this." He rolled on top of her, slid down until he was lying between her thighs. It was strange, at first, that his tongue was cool against her, but he what he lacked in temperature he compensated for in skill. Before long she was writhing and clutching his hair, and when she absolutely couldn't come one more time, she finally pushed him away.

"I didn't realize sex with you required training beforehand," she said.

His brow knitted. "I'd rather not think of you training with anyone else," he growled.

"Sorry." She reached for him; he crawled up to curl against her, his stomach pressed to her back, his hand tracing circles on her hip. "Poor choice of words."

She closed her eyes, but opened them again when he spoke.

"Do you think," he said, his hand on her hip falling still, "that you'll still feel this way about me when I get my memory back?"

She bit her lip. Brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm.

"Do you think you'll still feel this way about me?" she said.

He made a rumbling sound deep in his chest. "Don't answer a question with a question."

She sighed. "I hope so."

"Me too," he said.

There was a long pause, and Hermione was just drifting off to sleep when Eric spoke again.

"And your wizard?" he said.

"'S'not mine," Hermione mumbled.

"What is he, then?"

"He's..." Hermione opened her eyes and rolled over to face him. "My friend."

"Your friend who wants to fuck you."

She bit him on the arm, harder than was strictly necessary.

"Ow," he said, but his eyes lit and sparked when she did it.

"Don't be crass, then," Hermione said. She paused. "If he wants to...do anything...that's his affair. Not mine."

"So you admit he wants you." There was a small, triumphant smile playing on Eric's lips.

"I admit nothing of the sort," Hermione said. "Shut up, please, I want to go to sleep."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When she woke up, Eric, of course, was gone.

It was six AM and she was still tired, so she went to his cabinet and crawled down the ladder and curled into bed with him. She didn't think he'd wake up - he'd told her he was actually dead when he slept, most of the time - but he stirred when he felt her against him, and opened his eyes.

"Hi," she whispered, and was rewarded with a sweetly sleepy smile.

"Missed you," he mumbled, and oh, damn this spell. Damn this amnesia that had turned him into someone she could love.

"You too." She nestled against him in the crook of his arm.

She slept curled against him until after noon, then quietly crept upstairs. She had a missed call from Sookie and two text messages. One each from Sookie and Angelique.

Sookie's: PAM IS FIXED! Call me

Angelique's: I am a wizarding genius. Also, best. Brother. Ever.

She called Sookie back as she dressed. "Pam is fixed?" she asked, hopping to put on her second shoe.

"Her face looks amazing, Angelique figured it out." Sookie sounded wound up. "You're never gonna believe it. You have to come over here."

"When?"

Sookie laughed. "Well. Angelique has been celebrating with Pam since before dawn."

"Oh." It took a minute to sink in. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"So I shouldn't try to call Angelique back, then," Hermione said.

Another giggle. "You can try."

"What did she do?" Hermione went downstairs and found her bag. "Never mind, can I come over?"

"Sure." Sookie hung up.

"Good lord," Hermione said, when she'd Apparated into Sookie's living room, "what happened to you?"

Sookie...was glowing.

"It's gone down a lot," Sookie said, holding her hands out in front of her and examining them. "You should've seen it right after Angelique - " She frowned. "Did whatever she did."

"What on earth did she do?" Hermione caught Sookie's face in her hands and turned her from side to side. Sookie's skin looked as though someone was holding a light bulb behind it. She was literally luminous. "I've never seen anything like this. Are you feeling all right?"

Sookie shrugged. "I feel fine," she said. "I was kind of...buzzy...after Angelique cast that spell, but it went away pretty quickly."

"Buzzy," Hermione repeated. She sat down beside Sookie and took her phone out of her purse. "Did she try to reverse it?"

Sookie nodded. "She said it must be aftereffect, rather than the spell itself."

Hermione's thumbs flew over the screen. "Which was...what?"

"It was an amplifying spell," Sookie said. "And all of a sudden I felt...all this energy. She told me to aim it at Pam, so I did, and then I just kind of - pushed - and next thing I know, Pam's on the floor with a normal face and I'm glowing."

"Good lord," Hermione said again .She decided, immediately after sending the text, that texting was too slow. She called Angelique's phone instead. "She could've killed you."

"She mentioned that." Sookie's face turned thoughtful. "I told her to try anyway."

Angelique's phone rang five times, then went to voicemail. Hermione tried again. This time, Angelique picked up.

"Hey," she said breathlessly.

"Isn't Pam asleep yet?" Hermione said, putting her on speakerphone. "I need to talk to you."

In the background, she could hear Pam's languorous drawl. "Tell her to call back later. We're busy."

"Angelique," Hermione complained.

"All right, all right, I'll be over."

Hermione heard Pam's snort of annoyance as she hung up.

"Pam must like her," Sookie said. "She never wants to spend time with anyone except Eric."

"Yeah, lucky for us." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Sookie. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Sookie shrugged. "I'm a little tired, is all," she said.

Angelique Apparated into the living room a few minutes later, looking more rumpled than Hermione had ever seen her. Her hair was frizzy, she wasn't wearing makeup, and her clothes -

"That has to be Pam's," Sookie said, looking as though she was fighting not to smile.

Angelique smoothed the corset dress. "It is," she said primly, lifting her chin, "and Granger - " she aimed her wand at Hermione - "you keep your mouth shut."

"I didn't say anything." Hermione held up both hands.

"I can hear you thinking," Angelique replied.

"What I'm thinking," Hermione said, tilting her head toward Sookie, "is that you somehow managed to figure out how to lift a spell on a vampire without necromancy, and I would very much like to know how you did it."

The smile broadened. "I thought you might," Angelique said. She reached into her bag and pulled out her iPad.

"Don't tell me it was in your portable library all along," Hermione moaned.

"No." Angelique kicked off her sandals and sat down next to Hermione. "It took a little bit of work, actually. Lots of reading, and I had to ask a friend who's done some work with humanoid fairies."

"I can't decide whether being called a humanoid fairy makes me mad or not," Sookie said thoughtfully.

"Humanoid partial fairy, anyway," Angelique amended with a chuckle. "Anyway. I was looking through some West African and Haitian texts, and I found a few paragraphs on transference enchantment as it related to zombies."

"You're gonna have to explain that," Sookie said, grimacing, "because it sounds awful."

Angelique handed her the iPad. "Here."

Hermione skimmed. Houngans, bokor, divination and deities - all things she'd seen before, except -

Sookie frowned. "It's in French," she said.

"Oh, right." Angelique reached over and scrolled through a couple of screens until she reached the translation.

Sookie exhaled loudly. "Can you explain this?" she asked impatiently. "It doesn't make any sense to me."

"It goes back to Haitian vodou in the eighteenth century," Angelique said. "There were your run-of-the-mill vodou witches and wizards, of course, but there were also people called Mambos, who were..." She paused. "More magical than normal wizards, by nature."

She pointed to the screen, to a drawing of a bokor. "There were also these other sorcerers around, powerful by training instead of by nature, and they would exploit the inborn magic of the Mambos to create zombies. Amplify their energy, so to speak."

Hermione studied a line drawing: a bokor sorcerer with his wand aimed at a writhing Mambo surrounded by a halo of light. "And they'd aim that energy at the zombie," she said. "Like Sookie did for Pam."

"I really am a tool," Sookie said mildly.

"Sort of." Angelique sat back. "I was acting as the sorcerer, Sookie as the Mambo. But since I wasn't sure if it would work, I asked my friend if I could use the amplifying spell on a fairy."

"I guess she said yes," Hermione said.

"Weeeeelll..." Angelique tilted her hand back and forth, a so-so gesture. "Not in so many words."

Hermione looked at Sookie, who again gave her that enigmatic little shrug. "Informed consent," she said simply.

"I can see doing it for Bill," Hermione muttered, "but Pam?"

"Oh, she's not that bad," Sookie said.

"Anyway." Angelique gave Hermione a winning smile. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Incredibly dangerous and stupid," Hermione said, "but if it worked...I guess progress is progress."

"By the way," Sookie added, "you never did tell me how long I'm going to glow."

Angelique gave her a guilty look. "I have no idea," she admitted.

Sookie made a face and examined her arm. "I guess it's not that bad," she said, "but it's going to be hard to sleep, now that I'm a human night light."

"Sorry," Angelique said.

"Hey." Sookie looked up. "Eric."

Angelique nodded. "Whenever you feel up to it."

"Tonight," Sookie said.

Hermione looked down at her hands, laced together in her lap. Eric would be cured.

Tonight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was still an hour to nightfall when Hermione climbed down to Eric's room and curled against him. He didn't budge, of course, sound asleep or soundly dead or whatever exactly he was during the day, but she pulled her comforter around her and put her cheek against the cool planes of his chest and closed her eyes.

"You're crying," was the first thing he said when he woke.

"Not much." She reached up and wiped her tears off his chest.

He took her chin in his fingertips and tipped her face toward his. "Why?"

"Because - " She couldn't meet his eyes. "It's irrational."

Pad of his thumb against the skin beneath her eyes. "Tell me."

"I'm happy," she said, turning toward his palm, "because Angelique found a way to break the spell on you."

He fell still. "I'll get my memories back."

"If it works the way it worked on Pam, yes."

"Pam is healed?" Sharply. His fingers tightened on her upper arm.

She nodded. "I haven't seen her yet, but she was with Angelique all night."

If he breathed, she thought he would have exhaled with relief. "Good."

"But..." Hermione trailed off. She swallowed hard, feeling the sting of fresh tears in her eyes. "I'm glad," she said again. "But I'm going to miss you."

He tangled his fingers in her hair, pressed her against him. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"I was just thinking." She wrapped her arm around his waist. "About what you asked me. If I'd feel the same way about you once you got your memories back."

"And?"

She tightened her grip. "Yes."

He kissed her hard.

"Me too," he said roughly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Afterwards, watching him dress, she thought I'm going to lose him.

She thought about the way he'd looked when he first asked her for the healing potion for Sookie. About the way his face had changed every time Sookie came up in conversation, before Marnie's enchantment.

Yes, she would lose him.

He pulled a T-shirt over his head and looked over his shoulder at her. "You're awfully quiet."

She rolled onto her back because it was easier to stare at the ceiling than at his concerned expression. Her chest hurt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

In a half-second he was poised over her, hands on her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Nothing will change," he said firmly.

She nodded mutely.

He caught her tears on his fingertips, kissed her eyelids with more sweetness than she would ever have imagined he possessed. She was still, feeling him, memorizing the brush of his lips against her skin.

Then: "It's time to go," she said, and steeled herself, and sat up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They formed a triangle in Sookie's living room: Angelique, Sookie, Eric. Hermione stood next to Pam against the wall, her wand out, ready for damage control should such a thing be necessary.

"Ready?" Angelique asked.

Eric found Hermione's gaze. "Ready," he said.

"Ready." Sookie was still glowing faintly.

Angelique closed her eyes. She lifted her wand, looping it in slow circles around her head.

"Gonfler vitalité fée," she said. She aimed her wand at Sookie and opened her eyes.

The blast of light from the end of the wand was as bright as a star. Sookie absorbed it, reflected it, magnified it.

"NOW," Angelique shouted, and Sookie held both hands toward Eric, and closed her eyes, and pushed the light to him.

It looked as though he'd been hit with a fireball, but he hardly swayed. His eyes on Hermione didn't move, not exactly, but they changed. Focused. Hermione could almost see the doors opening, the synapses re-forming. He stared at her as though he had never seen her before in his life.

"Ow," Sookie said. She'd landed hard on the floor when the energy had discharged.

Eric's gaze swung from Hermione to Sookie, and Hermione saw comprehension in his eyes, shock.

"Sookie," he said, with surprise.

Hermione's heart broke.

"Semper absentis," she whispered, and Disapparated the hell out of there.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She Apparated into the foyer of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry had renovated it a few years ago and he and Ginny had used it fairly regularly as a weekend retreat, but with the increased demands of their family life, they came less and less often. Hermione had a key, though, and Harry had told her she was welcome any time.

She saw immediately that the house wasn't empty. The darkened foyer was in disarray, for one thing, and there were three pairs of men's shoes against the wall. And someone was moving around upstairs.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione let out a cry as her wand flew out of her hand. She took a step back, her gaze going to the top of the stairs and to the tall figure silhouetted there.

"Severus," she gasped.

"Hermione," he said, and he sounded every bit as stunned as she felt.

"What are you - " she started to say, at the same moment he said "Accio wand," and her wand went buzzing by her head.

He turned on the lights, came down the stairs, handed the wand to her. "I'm so sorry," he said, tucking his own wand into the pocket of his pajama pants.

She took it mutely, put it back into her belt, and looked at him. Just looked. She had a thousand questions - the first, obviously, being what the hell was he doing in Harry's house - but she found herself utterly unable to form a coherent thought.

Rumpled and barefoot, he looked ten years younger.

He moved with such agility and confidence that Hermione found she was having a difficult time reconciling this Severus with the pinched, unhappy man she'd known for so many years. He'd gained weight and muscle since he'd taken Eric's blood: his arms beneath his T-shirt were corded and strong.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, and her voice caught in her throat, thin and dry.

He was gazing at her. She looked away.

"I live here," he said finally.

"You..." She felt as though the world was spinning off its axis. "You live here?"

"I didn't exactly need the assistance of Mr. Thomas after..." He gestured toward her. Toward himself. "The good Mrs. Potter and I have an arrangement."

"An...arrangement?"

"Well." A smile curled the corners of Severus's thin lips. "In a manner of speaking. I've been working as Head Alchemist at St. Mungo's for the past six months."

"You..." Hermione trailed off. Her old job. But now under Ginny. "So. Room and board in exchange for your employ."

He nodded. "I assumed he'd have told you."

"No - I - " Hermione shook her head hard. Harry had mentioned, sometime around Halloween, that Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place might be tied up for a while. But she hadn't asked for elaboration, and she certainly hadn't expected this.

"Come sit down," Severus said.

She followed him silently into the living room.

"Tea?" he asked, and she nodded. While he was in the kitchen, she looked around the room: it was much the same as she'd last seen it, but there were a few touches that were uniquely Severus. An oversized alchemist's cabinet against one wall. Bottles and jars on the shelves. Piles of Potions books stacked near the couch.

"Here." He put two cups of tea on the coffee table.

"You're so..." She trailed off, her eyes on him. "Tall."

He arched an eyebrow. "No taller than I was before."

"Right." She looked at her hands in her lap. What was she doing here? What was she doing? Eric would be -

She caught herself. No. Eric wouldn't be anything. She'd enchanted herself so she'd be untraceable, not that it mattered. Eric had his memories, now, and Sookie. Which was the way it should be.

And that left her here. With Severus.

Maybe that was the way it should be, too.

She felt suddenly horrible: empty and lonely and insignificant. "I need some air," she said, and stood.

She was outside on the back deck for a good ten minutes before she heard the door quietly open and close behind her.

She swiped at her tears. "Hi."

"Do you want to..." He paused. "Talk about it?"

"No." She glanced at him. So familiar, the high cheekbones and hooked nose and slightly sagging jawline.

"You came here to stay," he said. It wasn't a question.

She nodded.

"Eric?" he asked.

She nodded again, fresh tears burning her eyes. "Long story," she said.

"There's a guest room," he said.

"I don't think that's a good idea." She turned away from him. "I can stay with Harry and Ginny."

"They have two small boys and a toddler," Severus pointed out.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

And then Severus's hand, warm on her shoulder, turning her. "Don't be an idiot," he said roughly. "Stay with me."

She sighed. "All right," she said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When she came downstairs the next morning, he was dressed and sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of tea, making notes in the margins of an ancient-looking text.

"You still write in books," she said.

He looked up at her. Smiled. "It's nice to be able to do it again," he confessed. He put the quill down and stood. "How did you sleep?"

"Well enough." She sat down.

"Feel better today?"

"Yes." She watched him move across the kitchen, pouring tea, opening the refrigerator. Marveled at his easiness, at the way his muscles all worked in harmony with each other.

She sipped the tea he brought her, burned her tongue. "Thanks."

Quick nod. "You're welcome."

When he reached for the quill again, she intercepted, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. He sat quietly as she turned his right hand this way and that, examining him.

"Satisfied?" he asked at last, wryly.

She let go. "I suppose," she said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then he glanced at the clock. Stood. "Work."

"Right." Hermione pushed her teacup away.

"You don't have to go," he said quickly.

She bit her lip. "I should."

"I had thought you were past worrying about should," he said dryly. "Would you like to come with me?"

"With you?" She thought about that. She hadn't set foot in St. Mungo's in - was it two years now, or three?

He leaned toward her, his eyebrows lifting. "They'd like to see you," he said.

So she spent the day beside him, and saw all her old friends and coworkers, and they chastised her for not keeping in better contact, and she laughed and promised she would try harder. She worked with him, quietly, their elbows brushing every once and again, and when the sun started to go down they Apparated home and stood in the living room and looked at each other.

"Severus - " she said, as he said "Hermione - " and then his hands were on her shoulders and he was kissing her.

Her lips parted more in surprise than anything else, but he was as familiar as home, and she couldn't help it: she returned the kiss. She put her hands on his waist, drew back enough to say: "I can't do this."

His expression darkened. "Because of Eric."

"No." She looked away. "Because of you."

"What do you mean?" He extricated himself from her hands and sat down on the couch.

"It isn't fair to you," she said. "Coming to you when I'm sad about someone else." She sat down next to him.

"You should let me decide what's fair every once in a while," he said.

She let out a heavy sigh and put her face in her hands. "This isn't supposed to be so difficult."

"Who's making it difficult, Ms. Granger?" he asked, and his tone was a little gentler, now. She felt his hand on her back, and after a moment he put his arm around her.

She frowned. "Me. You." But she didn't resist when he pulled her closer. She rested her head against his shoulder: "What are we going to do about this, Sev?"

No answer but his sigh.

She kicked her shoes off, pulled her feet up onto the couch, and burrowed under his arm. Closed her eyes. Felt him waiting.

It would be so much easier, she thought, if she wanted him like she wanted Eric. She wouldn't keep hurting him, then.

She rolled her head, feeling tension knotting her neck.

"Here," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, and she wanted to pull away. Wanted to, but didn't. What was it about him that drove her to all these misguided decisions? He had mapped her life with everything she shouldn't do.

His fingers kneaded and burrowed, smoothing away the knots and creases in her muscles. And after a moment, she felt his lips on her neck.

She flinched. Pulled away.

"Please," he said, his voice low and desperate. "Just once. Just this last. Please."

She looked at her hands. "Severus - "

"Look at me." Suddenly he sounded angry. "Look at me, Hermione."

She turned and met his gaze. Dark eyes, so familiar, and suddenly she thought about a life without him in it. He was so constant, so there; he'd sculpted nearly every part of her for the past fifteen years and she realized, at that moment, that she simply assumed his presence. Consciously or not, she took him for granted.

And a life without him would be utterly unrecognizable.

"I should write you more often," she said.

He blinked at the non sequitur, the frustration fading from his expression. "What?"

She felt a wave of bittersweet affection for him sweep over her. "I never told you how important you are to me," she said. She laid her hand along his jaw. "And you are, Sev."

He reached up, covered her hand with his. "You didn't have to tell me," he said, and his eyes went dark and sad. Then: "You're in love with him."

Love.

Despite the look on Eric's face in the moment he regained his memory. Despite Sookie. Despite everything.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't give you what you need."

"All I need," he said, taking her hand away from his cheek and pressing it to his lips, "is to know you'll be happy with him."

She closed her eyes and let herself imagine saying yes to Severus.

Moving back to London. Her old friends. Her old work. Living in the house that already contained so much of their history. He loved her; he'd always loved her. And she'd never given him a chance.

Didn't he deserve that, at least?

Gently, she took her hand out of his. Saw the heartbreak and resignation in his eyes for a split second before she put her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his heart.

"I have never been more grateful," she said softly, feeling his hands on her back, "for anyone, Sev, than I am for you. Always."

"Always," he repeated. His hands fell to his lap.

She stood. "I'll write to you," she said, and he nodded, and looked away.

She turned west. Toward Eric.

Toward home.

fin.