Chapter re-vamped 2/3/2015

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Disclaimer: None of the characters or the world created by JK Rowling belongs to me nor do I make any money off this story.

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Hermione slowly slid down the wall, coming to rest on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Her astute mind was running a mile a minute, trying to figure out what had happened. Well, she knew what had happened. She had sex. But for the life of her, Hermione couldn't figure out when or with whom. Since the most recent and final downfall of Voldemort; Hermione, Ron, Harry and all their friends had been slowly putting their lives and wizarding society back together. Hermione couldn't speak for others, but sex had taken a backseat for her.

The last of the Death Eaters were being rounded up and judged for their crimes against humanity and wizarding society alike. Their days were filled with rebuilding Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts herself. Every stone that was replaced was one step closer to healing. Hogwarts was nearly finished, the astronomy tower the last piece to be repaired and just in time for the new term.

The trio had been residing at number 12 Grimmauld Place since the end of the war. They all had their reasons for being in the gloomy and confining house. Harry was still coming to terms with all the people who had been lost. He attended their funerals day after day but couldn't seem to look their families in the eye just yet; he still blamed himself. Ron was both escaping the memories of his lost brother Fred, and the suffocating arms of his mother. Mrs. Weasley was still in mother bear mode, afraid to let even Charlie out of her sight. And Hermione well, she was hiding from the world, but most of all, her parents.

A scant three weeks earlier Hermione had apparated just outside her parents' home in Australia. From the road she could see into the house through a kitchen window, where her father and mother were dancing. Her mother was laughing as her father twirled her around and Hermione had never seen such a look of freedom or devotion on her father's face. Australia seemed to be agreeing with them. They had settled in, bought a house and looked to be happier than ever. Before she thought better of it, Hermione disappeared with a little pop. There had been no guarantee on fixing their memories anyway, why should she put them all through the pain?

After that she had holed up once more within the dreary house, not seeing, let alone dating anyone. With a groan, Hermione leaned her head back to the wall, her eyelids falling shut. Though the floor was cold her temperature was skyrocketing; body was on fire, and her breaths were coming in short gasps. Merlin, was she panicking? Hermione's eyes flashed open, and she pushed herself to her feet, determined to get to the bottom of this. Hermione tossed the muggle pregnancy test into the box, along with the three others she had used. Then in the trash they went.

Swiftly and silently Hermione walked down the second floor hall. She wasn't worried about the boys but in fact Kreacher. Somewhere along the line he had warmed up to all three of them but enjoyed sneaking up on Hermione in particular. Especially in the morning when she was still wearing her pajamas. Kreacher always took the time to tell her that it was very inappropriate for "such a well behaved mudblood" to be sleeping in the boxers and quidditch jerseys that she stole regularly from Ron and Harry's laundry. Hermione couldn't help the sudden snort. Half the time she slept naked and only wore those items to leave her room.

Running her hand through her wild hair, she took the flight of stairs two at a time and headed toward the kitchen. As soon as Hermione strode past the slightly ajar library door, she froze. It was as if time slowed to a crawl as a shock ran down her spine. Hermione reached out a pale and shaking hand to push open the heavy inlaid doors. Stepping inside her favorite retreat, her gaze immediately zeroed in on the low but warm fire that burned in the hearth. Then to the black leather settee in front of the hearth.

Forgotten memories flowed over her like water over rocks.

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The sitting room of number 12 Grimmauld place was full to the brim. Sette's and pillows had been transfigured from horrendous looking statues and door stops. There was alcohol aplenty and every few minutes, new names were said in the silence, a small toast for their large sacrifice. Hermione lay on the floor in front of the fire, whiskey in one hand and the other playing in Harry's unruly black hair, where he lay on his back in front of her. Ron was glued to her side, his head and chest laid across her back, as if she were a pillow.

Hermione took a glance around at the other occupants of the room. Professor McGonagall and the new Minister Shaklebolt occupied one settee, while next to them sat Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, and Bill. Ginny sat at Bill's feet, George's head in her lap as he stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. Andromeda Tonks lay reclined in a large armchair, her grandson and Harry's godson firmly seated and asleep at her breast. Earlier that evening, Mrs. Weasley had made a fine supper and invited their friends and family. Slowly after dinner, it had dwindled down to just them.

Knocking back the rest of her whiskey, Hermione grimaced and wiggled.

"Ron, get off. I have to pee."

Instead of moving like any decent person, her large red haired friend, just wiggled and firmly seated himself on her back.

"What was that 'mione? You have to pee?"

Harry looked at Hermione, a shadow of a smile on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said "Yes Ronald, I have to pee."

Without warning, Hermione rolled away from him, knocking his chin with her hip.

"Ow!"

Chuckles went through the somber room, as she pushed herself to her feet, straightening Harry's jersey and Ron's atrociously orange Chudley Cannon boxers.

Smiling she said "Be back in a few."

Hermione's neon blue socks padded across the many throw rugs on the floor as she headed toward the second floor loo. Why there wasn't a loo on the first floor was beyond her. As she walked past the library, Hermione stopped and backtracked. Who was in her library? Slowly she eased the heavy ornate door open and slipped inside. There on her favorite leather settee lay a large imposing shadow, brandy glass in hand. The ice inside clinked as the bearer took a full swallow of the golden liquid.

"Spying are we Miss Granger?" The sudden question made Hermione jump, her right hand clenching reflexively on a wand that wasn't there.

"Professor Snape I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I was on my way to the loo and saw the door was open."

Severus Snape raised an eyebrow as she came around the front of the settee. "Did you now? Well, I should have known. This being your second home."

Hermione just nodded, unsure of what to say. Snape hadn't berated her or insulted her yet and he always took full advantage of any chance he had to disparage her need for knowledge.

"Professor, are you alright?"

Hermione's eyes were glued to the hand that raised the small glass to a pale, sensuous mouth. Pulling her gaze away, Hermione shook her head.

"Something wrong Miss Granger? Surely not."

Hermione raised her face, looking Severus in the eyes.

"You first."

The potions master chuckled. The sound was rough and had a mocking edge that made her shiver. It was a voice of sin, bitter and enthralling. Finishing off his drink. Severus let his arm fall toward the floor, dropping the glass cylindrical object. It rolled toward the hearth, firelight glinting off it in a myriad of colors. Hermione sat down on the plush rug in front of the fire and looked at Severus, waiting. Severus snorted and shook his head, his gaze roaming the ceiling.

"The Wizengamot in all its wise nature has brought me up on "assisted suicide" charges" he drawled.

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction.

"What?"

A hollow laugh escaped Severus's throat as he continued.

"They cleared me of murder and instead bring up "assisted suicide" charges. Why do they insist on making my life hell even after the Dark Lord has already done so?"

Hermione was dumbfounded. Assisted suicide charges? She had heard of them in the muggle world but here? Without warning, Severus swung his legs to the floor and stood in one motion. Hermione quickly scrambled back out of the way.

Upon seeing him unbuttoning his outer robe she stuttered, "What are you doing?"

Severus never paused in his ministrations as he looked down at her.

"What does it look like Miss Granger? Ten points to Gryffindor if you can get it right. No? Well I am getting comfortable. I am sure Minerva plans to get drunk and I must be here to escort her back to the castle. Don't want her splinching herself do we? I have a very strong feeling that I will be here all night."

One elegant hand tossed the robe onto the back of the settee as he sat back down. Hermione continued to watch as he began unbuttoning the collar of his dress shirt, expertly flicking buttons through their holes. Hermione's eyes were riveted to his left forearm as long fingers pushed the silk up revealing the Dark mark; a sharp contrast to Severus's alabaster skin.

Off came the loafers next, to reveal bare feet, no socks. As he laid his head back, Severus snapped his fingers. Instantly the glass was back in his hand and refilled with both ice and brandy. Hermione smiled to herself, wondering how much of that he had ingested.

"Comfortable Professor?"

"Quite, Miss Granger."

Lifting his head, Severus took a draft from his glass and sighed. He had best get comfortable. It looked as if Minerva wasn't leaving any time soon, crafty old battle axe.

Slowly Hermione stood, straightening her clothes. "Do you need anything? Anything I can get you?"

Severus looked at her, his eyes glinting in a predatory manor.

"Actually Miss Granger, there is."

Suddenly Hermione realized how close she was standing to him. With the way he looked at her, she was suddenly unnerved.

"What is it that I can get you?"

Severus stared at her for a moment before growling, "You."

Before Hermione knew what had happened, Severus's hand snaked out and grabbed her jersey, yanking her between his legs and onto his lap. Distantly, Hermione heard the brandy glass shatter, tinkling like chimes. The second her lips met his, a shocking sizzle went down her spine. Reaching out for balance, Hermione's hands found his shoulders, gripping them hard. She wasn't sure whether she should push him away, but when his arm wrapped around her back like a vice, pinning her too him, Hermione decided she didn't care. The witch gave into the kiss demanding from him what he took from her.

Her dainty hands moved from his shoulders to his neck and further up to entwine in his silky locks. Harry and Ron had never listened when she pointed out, that most potions fumes made hair greasy. Boldly, Hermione moved her knees to each side of Severus's hips and raised herself up, breaking his hold and the kiss. She looked down into his face, searching his eyes for anything to make her leave. But the truth was, even though she knew she should, she didn't want to.

Suddenly he grabbed her body and with quick movements had her pinned under him on the settee. Her settee.

"Mine."

Severus's lips crushed hers, the kiss borderline bruising. After that it was nothing but heat. First went the sensibilities and reservations. Then went the clothes. Everywhere his hands touched immediately was set aflame. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the library door that stood ajar, nor the fact that several people sat ensconced in the sitting room not sixty feet away. Right now Hermione only cared about one thing, keeping Severus's hands on her body.

Severus licked and bit every part of her that he could reach. Hands grasped at her soft skin, kneading it until it was flushed. As her body arched and low, mewling cries left her lips he smiled viciously. She would never forget him, never forget this. He would make damn sure of it. His soul was already black and broken, what was one more blemish?

He was going to enjoy this.

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Hermione's body flushed at the memory and her body shook. How could she of forgotten something so carnal? She hadn't drank that much, had she? What had she been thinking? Shaking her head, Hermione stumbled into the sitting room where Harry and Ron were playing chess. Without a word, she fell onto the couch, catching both boys attention.

"Hermione, you alright?"

She nodded, swinging her gaze toward Harry. She felt Ron's weight settle next to her on the scraggly couch. His hand came up to her forehead, his knuckles grazing the skin.

"You look flushed 'Mione. What's the matter?"

Harry's weight settled on the other side of her, one of his hands gripping hers. "Your chewing your lip Hermione. Something is up."

Hermione sighed, trying to figure out where to start. She needed their help. Abortion was out of the question. Looking between them, she opened her mouth then closed it. She once again opened her mouth, this time forcing herself to speak.

"I need your help."

Harry and Ron stayed silent, waiting for her to find the courage to continue.

"You see, I did something. Don't really know if it's good, but it could never be bad. Never."

Above her head, Harry gave Ron a perplexed look. What was she talking about?

"Hermione, we trust you, trust your judgment. Just tell us what happened and we'll do our best to help you fix it."

Hermione shook her head almost violently. "There is no fixing it. I won't take the easy way out. I'm going to do what's right. Fixing it is not an option."

Harry was extremely confused. Hermione was speaking in riddles. Well, maybe she was making sense to herself but she was the only one who knew what she was talking about. A quick look at Ron told him the other man was just as perplexed. Ron now had an arm around Hermione's shoulders, her body shaking in his embrace.

"Hermione, I promise we'll take care of things, your way, but to do that you have to tell us what's wrong. What did you do?"

Closing her eyes, Hermione let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "I'm pregnant."

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Two hours later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were still sitting on that couch only this time, they were huddled together under a thick blanket.

"You know, I was a miracle baby. Least that's what my mum said. She was almost just shy of forty when I came along. She and my father were so ecstatic."

Hermione's voice was low, her head laying on Ron's shoulder. Harry had stretched his legs out sideways, and settled Hermione snuggly between himself and Ron. Ron's legs were stretched in his direction, laying over top of Harry's.

"My mother had way too many 'miracle' children."

Harry laughed at Ron's sarcasm. Hermione cracked a smile and muttered, "And she loves every one of you."

Ron nodded, an easy smile on his face. Harry was still laughing, and managed to stutter out

"Malfoy is an only child. But he's definitely no miracle."

An un-ladylike snort escaped Hermione at the thought. Him, a miracle? Yeah, right.

"Looks like I'll have to start picking out baby names."

Ron nodded thoughtfully before opening his mouth.

"But that kid will carry your name or ours. I'll be damned if it'll be tarnished by the name of Snape."

Hermione smacked him lightly, admonishing him.

"Ronald! Professor Snape is a good man. He's risked much and you know it."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't know about good Hermione. I mean you are pregnant. But old habits are hard to get over. I mean come on, do you think he'll suddenly be nice to us?"

Nibbling her lip, Hermione shook her head. No, he wouldn't be nice. Hell, he might be meaner than ever. No doubt he thought her to be easy, something akin to a whore. But it wasn't true and she knew it. So did Harry, Ron, the Weasley's and most of the male upper classman at Hogwarts. She didn't jump into bed or onto a settee with just anybody.

Harry and Ron had taken the news with a surprising amount of maturity. They were both outraged at Severus for having sex with her, let along getting her pregnant. But the big question on their minds was would she tell him? Harry and Ron promised to help her hide the pregnancy from the student body as long as possible but she couldn't hide it in good conscience from Severus. Not for long anyway. However, that bridge would be crossed when she finally arrived at its edge.

In retrospect, Hermione was very glad that she had turned Professor, no, Headmistress McGonagall down when she had been offered the Head Girl position. At first she turned it down because of her Apprenticeship but now, with her pregnancy, there is no way she could have done it.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when she found herself squished between Harry and Ron in a tight, crooked hug.

"It'll be okay Hermione. We'll help you in whatever you need. Hell, you can marry me if you want."

Harry's words were honest and they softened her heart.

"Do you want to be Mrs. Potter?"

Hermione chuckled and shook her head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm just fine being Ms. Granger."

Things were going to be okay.

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