A/N: Firstly, there's a pretty obvious reference to something else early on in this chapter (and I haven't a clue why it popped into my head, but I went with it; I suppose, after so many angst-ridden chapters, my soul—and the souls of our heroes—needed to laugh), so if you recognize what it is then kudos to you.

Secondly, and more importantly, after two and a half years of painstakingly seeing this story through to its conclusion, it's finally complete. It's an enormous relief to finally finish this fic, I must say, regardless of whatever the overall outcome in responses may be...

If you've been here that long—or been with this story much at all in these past two and a half years—I thank you for following along. Lastly, I'd greatly appreciate hearing your final thoughts, if you would indulge me after such a long haul. Enjoy...

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox and own none of her associated characters. No money, just fun.

Epilogue

"Mr Malfoy," spoke the headmaster in a grave, dry tone that left his young company shifting uneasily in his chair, "what exactly did you intend to achieve by turning Mr Baxter into a newt?"

The third year, a short-haired blond—the spitting image of his grandfather, no doubt, from where Severus silently observed him across the room—gulped and crossed his ankles over each other, dropping his head in a failed attempt to mask his guilty, flushed cheeks.

"I'm waiting, Mr Malfoy," Severus calmly stated after an uncomfortable pause ensued. He kept his hands behind his back, standing stoically next to a large glass window in his office, awaiting Draco's grandson's sure-to-be horrid explanation.

"It - It was just a bit of fun, sir," the boy mumbled into his chest, sheepish steel grey eyes peaking at Severus from beneath long, straight bangs.

"'Fun'?" came an exasperated, shrill voice from a corner of the room. Both Severus and the boy visibly stiffened as Professor Hermione Snape charged into view, with her hands on her hips and greying, maddening curls spiralling out from beneath the brim of a black, pointed hat. She turned up her nose at the young Malfoy, eyes seething with unrepressed rage. "Mr Baxter was practically trampled on by your peers and nearly turned into Mr Filch's cat's latest chewing toy! The cat could have been poisoned, mind you!

"When were you planning on intervening and putting a stop to it, Mr Malfoy? When the bloody cat finally dug her sharp teeth into Mr Baxter's neck or before?"

"Professor—" Severus started, putting a hand up in the air to silence her, but the boy spoke up first, pleading his weak case to the pair of them.

"I didn't think the cat would go after him, Professor! Honest! It was just a joke!"

Hermione heatedly crossed her arms over her chest and stared the youth down, who shrunk further into his seat. "You have a very disturbing sense of humour, Mr Malfoy, if you think the transfiguration of another human being to be a mere 'joke'!"

"But he started it," the boy argued through gritted teeth, purposely keeping his eyes lowered.

"And that is no excuse, young man! Mr Baxter spent two days in the Hospital Wing coughing up worms!"

The young Malfoy grimaced at that before contesting in a feeble, low voice, "He got better!"

"That's beside the point!" Hermione threw up her hands in resignation and turned to her quieted husband, wordlessly demanding that he back her up.

Severus slowly returned to his desk, extending the awkward period of silence that followed, and gingerly sat down at the headmaster's high chair. He then cleared his throat and eyed Draco's grandson sharply. "Professor Snape is right, Mr Malfoy. Transfiguring one's self is dangerous enough. I hope you've sufficiently learned your lesson because things could have gone decidedly bad, and quickly, too.

"I'll be writing to your parents tonight and you will spend the next three evenings in detention with Mr Filch. Is that understood?"

The boy raised his head, a look of sheer offense crossing his pale, round face before he rightly chose to shut his mouth and oblige. For Severus, it was a savoring moment to recognise that he could still have such an effect on youth today.

"Yes, sir," the boy contended with a severe pout; his cheeks were practically on fire.

"And one hundred points from Slytherin!" Hermione added as an aggravated afterthought, crossing her arms over his chest as if to settle the matter. She batted an annoying frizzy curl out of her eyes and sighed, as did the young Malfoy, neither party wholly satisfied with how matters had concluded.

Severus quickly dismissed the boy from his office, both he and Hermione watching the little scoundrel take his leave with suspicious eyes. He sulked rather dramatically out of sight, wearing a bothered, angry-ridden scowl upon his face. It seemed to be a family trait passed down from generation to generation, one that baffled his Transfiguration professor in particular.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione descended into a long-winded rant. "That boy is a problem, Severus!" she accosted him in his absence, pointing a shaky finger at the closed door from whence the young Malfoy had disappeared. "What in the blazes is going on with that family? Good grief, it's always something with the whole lot of them!"

"Hermione—"

"Can't we have one Malfoy step through the ruddy doors to this school with actual decorum and respect towards others? Draco learned it; so did Lucius! You'd think they all had a permanent case of prejudice diarrhoea by the likes of that one!"

She ended her diatribe with a huff and a, "Thank goodness I could never conceive. I wouldn't want to after the headaches I've been dealt. Reprimanding these children and seeing to their welfare day in and day out has been more than enough for me." She tugged at a loose curl. "It's a miracle I haven't gone entirely white yet!"

Severus, completely brought up short by her comments, openly smirked at his wife and shook his head. "There's still time," he teased with a soft chuckle.

A few defining silver hairs caught the setting sun's rays that trickled into the headmaster's circular-shaped office, settling upon the very centre where he sat. That alluring visual momentarily distracted Hermione from her vexed state and she took a slow, sedating breath to calm her nerves. Once she felt her temperament under better control, she strolled around Severus's desk and placed a loving hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at her, still smirking and clearly amused.

"Are you through, my dear, or is there a second stanza coming?"

Hermione scoffed at him with a playful roll of her eyes and a swipe at his shoulder-length hair. Her fingers lingered there, however, choosing to brush through their coarse, raven layers for a moment of meditative silence. She loved those locks, which had maintained their long length after all these years, though time and the daily stresses of academic life had plagued both her and her husband with plenty of grey hairs to match their Hogwarts professions.

"I'm through," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on top of his head.

Severus reached out a hand to capture hers and gave it a tender, understanding squeeze. "I'll write to Draco as well and press the issue about his grandson's lack of 'decorum', all right?"

Hermione smiled at that. "I think writing to Lucius, too, wouldn't hurt. Drive the point home?"

Severus snorted. "You're a real hard arse, woman."

"Me?" Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Lest you forget your own teaching methods, Professor—"

"I'd never forget my ill-fortune in having you for one of my students," Severus jested with a low growl. "Your over eager, swotty participation every single ruddy day would be impossible for any professor to forget, even with the help of a most potent Forgetful Memory Charm."

"You're an arsehole, Severus Snape."

"Isn't that why you fell in love with me?"

Hermione swatted his arm a second time and ran her fingers through the back of his head, smiling despite herself. "Some days I can't believe I did," she mused quietly, and the suggestive twinkle that emerged in Severus's onyx eyes had her laughing.

"Nor I, trust me."

Hermione shot him a heedful look over. "You turned out to be a decent man, that's why."

"Oh? Could have fooled me."

"Shall I walk away now or yesterday? I won't listen to this if you're going to bring it up again."

Snarling defensively, Severus roped his arms around Hermione's waist, catching her off guard. She yelped and melted into a pool of laughter as the wizard dragged her rather possessively onto his lap, where she wasn't permitted to wiggle herself free (nor would she have put forth the effort).

"I can say as I bloody well please, cheeky minx, and you will listen," he emphasised, hissing into her ear. "That's part of being married."

"Bollocks. I don't have to listen to anything that has to do with past regrets."

Severus loosened his grip, his shrewd eyes roving over Hermione's profile with a sudden ruefulness, aching in want. "I wish..."

At that incomplete thought, Hermione turned to him. At once, an awareness washed over her and she offered her husband a much gentler expression. "Don't, love."

"I do wish I could take some of it back—"

"I know you do." She leaned into his embrace, bringing her forehead to his; an aged hand extended to stroke the side of his face as well. "I know. Now that's enough."

Severus silently abided his wife's command, though Hermione could tell that his eyes were still troubled. She smiled encouragingly, pecked him on the lips, and, slowly, he allowed her to ease out of his lap and to stand beside him.

"We have something far more pressing to discuss," Hermione intoned, reverting the subject to something far more light-hearted, "the upcoming anniversary!"

"Ahhh..." Severus brought his hands together in his lap and stared intently up at her. "My guess is you already have everything organised?"

"I was going to ask you first!"

"'Was' being the key word," he rebuffed, issuing a slight, half smile.

Hermione frowned and pushed out her bottom lip, though Severus knew better than to bite, fully aware that his wife didn't feel any guilt or remorse on the subject. "Anyway, I know we always spoke of doing it at the right time, and I thought maybe..."

"Go on."

Hermione's eyes were thoughtful, serious, as they bore down into his. "I think it's time to make a statement to the Prophet..."

"About Miss Weasley?"

"Mmm," Hermione continued, swallowing hard. "I've already spoken to Luna, Dean, and the others. The vote's unanimous."

"Draco, too?"

Hermione's nod was slow and steady. "You know him... He may never be ready to speak on her, but he approves of us going forward. He thinks it's time. Dean thought he might invite fellow officials from the Ministry to be present if, and when, we announce it to the public?"

Severus absentmindedly scanned the stacks of correspondences and paperwork on his desk that still awaited his attention. He let forth a drawn out sigh, eyes roving over various trinkets and items in his office but without consideration for them, for his mind was far away from here.

After an extended silence, Severus's attention fell back on his wife and he quietly nodded his approval. "We'll have the announcement in the Great Hall; make a proper commemorative ceremony of it for her and for the family."

Hermione's face lit up at that suggestion, amenable and apparently having thought along the same lines. "I thought Professor Binns and I might go over how to address the children's questions once the announcement's been made? He could work the reformed history into his curriculum next term after you and I oversee it. I thought I might also assist the teachers for a time in properly fielding answers where Ginny and Harry are concerned."

"That all sounds quite agreeable."

"I'm glad." Hermione's attention turned to Severus's intertwined hands; she reached forward and slid one of them through hers, consoled by his touch. "I'm relieved you feel as I do..."

"It really was always your call to make, my dear," said Severus, referring to both Hermione and her surviving friends. "You were the ones who won this war, after all."

"You—and plenty of others older than us, I might add—were just as instrumental in that outcome," Hermione tried to reason with him, but Severus only shook his head in disagreement.

"The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters made this war your war when none of it should have involved any of you, Hermione. Your generation ensured that there would be generations to come. You had the most to lose; not I or my lot. It's high time you all started taking credit for that..."

With a weighty sigh, and recognising that she and her husband might never see eye to eye on that hard-hitting point, Hermione stepped closer to kiss the top of Severus's head once more. "It's high time you took credit for a couple things yourself, love."

"Perhaps I will...one day," he offered with a suggestive smirk, to which Hermione heartily chuckled. The laughter soon died off, however, marking the office as quiet and still again for a long, considerate moment. Severus brought Hermione's hand to his lips and bestowed it with an affirmative kiss. "I'll be at your side for all of it," he assured her softly; Hermione warmed at the subtle but steadfast affections she detected in the depths of those long familiar eyes. "I promise."

"Thank you." Content, she bent at the waist to let her forehead touch his and whispered longingly, "Walk beside me, love?"

"Forever," was his abiding reply without a second's hesitation, and Hermione sealed the exchange with a proper snog.

Hermione thoughtfully traced the title and outline of the thick tome presently cradled in her lap, her dainty, worn fingers pawing over its non-creased binding and unmarked pages with a certain fondness and delicate care. The newness of a book was a most peculiar inspection to such an easily devouring, hungry reader as herself, and the pages smelled utterly fresh and untouched. Such a strange scent, she mused as she began flipping casually through the seemingly endless array of text, until she spotted a section towards the back she had been searching for.

Just as she began to read, the shadow of a well-acquainted, lanky individual came into view, hovering over Hermione and her reading material. "Have we been included," came his snarky, deep purr, "or did they conveniently forget to leave off our names as contributors to the latest edition?"

Hermione snorted and flicked to the end of the book where an impressive list of names was alphabetized. Her index finger roamed over the lengthy list until she spotted the pair of them, Severus and Hermione Snape, typed side-by-side. "There we are," she noted, smiling up at Severus, who was leaning in and squinting his eyes to better read their names. "See? Not to worry, love."

"I'm pleasantly surprised."

Hermione's smile extended. "I am, too. Good on them for getting things right for once." She snapped the book shut and admired the title for a second viewing.

"Hogwarts: A History," Severus read aloud, sounding both proud and a touch deterred by the recognition. "Well, you got your wish, my dear. Miss Weasley's name is now one for the history books."

Hermione's expression was soft, peaceful, as she stared up at him this time. "It's just as it should be... Yes?"

She caught the underlying reassurance that emerged in her husband's colourless eyes as he bent lower to lovingly peck her brow. "Indeed," he whispered additionally and snaked one of his sinewy arms around her. After a moment of reflective silence, he rubbed at her shoulder and nudged her with encouragement. "You cold?"

"A little," she confessed, shivering against winter's merciless chill. She had sat too long on this outdoor bench just outside the school's greenhouse and suddenly yearned to return indoors.

Hermione rose to her feet and found herself hastily wrapped up in Severus's heavy cloak. She smiled appreciatively and they walked hip to hip inside the castle, strolling for a while in a comfortable silence down the various corridors before Hermione piped up, "You know, I was thinking..."

"Dare I ask what?"

Hermione elbowed the wizard lightly and continued with feigned annoyance, "As I was saying, I was thinking of how much I enjoyed contributing to this edition. I... I'd love to do more of that sort of thing. Perhaps write my own memories about the Wizarding war..." She paused, feeling suddenly nervous and unsure, and looked to the devoted man at her side for support. "What do you think?"

Severus arched an eyebrow and glanced down at her, the hard lines along his face, all of which had worn and deepened with time, presently unreadable. "Must I contribute as well to this newest endeavour of yours?"

Hermione blushed. "Erm, maybe..."

To her relief, Severus shot her a half-cocked smile as a result. "Oh, very well. I think it's an exceptional idea."

"You do?" Her eyebrows tapered together with sudden suspicious. "You aren't just goading me, are you?"

"Of course not," Severus snarled in self-defence. "Better you write about the Wizarding war than any of those other younger buffoons who haven't a bloody clue as to what it was really like. You'll set things right, my dear, and that's all any of us who actually lived through it care about."

Hermione couldn't help but to grin. "Well, you will, too, seeing as you just agreed to help me!"

"I agreed to contribute, not to write the damn thing."

"Oh, fine! I'll write and you can dictate."

"I do have a school to run," he reminded her, though she spotted the understated mirth on his face and stared him down.

"And I and the rest of the staff oversee hundreds of children for you. It sounds like you're getting the better hand in this arrangement."

"In that case, care to run the Board of Governors meetings in my stead? I'll gladly switch and teach one of your Transfiguration classes for you?"

Hermione scowled, resigned. "Point taken," she muttered.

As they halted outside the entrance to the headmaster's personal quarters, she raised herself on tiptoe to adamantly kiss the wizard she had been happily married to for some forty-seven years. He responded back, gently sliding her against him as they kissed with vehement want and contentment, unmindful—or uncaring—of the moving portraits on the walls that eyed their snog fest with either increasing discomfort or a certain beguilement that came from years of repeated observance.

"Walk beside me?" they heard the headmaster whisper, his lips still pressed to the professor's mouth.

"Forever," she returned, breathless and ardently.

They slipped inside their rooms, their next audible moves going undetected by the outside world thanks to a permanent Muffling Charm they had smartly put in place on their lodgings decades ago.

A/N #2: Until next time!