"This is very good, Severus," Kingsley said.

Severus scowled, as Kingsley was not referring to the meal Severus served him. (Pork roast, in fact). He knew it was good. Especially for him. It didn't mean he wanted the other man to say that.

"I am not a child," Severus spat.

He knew the Minister for Magic didn't mean it like that , but Severus could not help but take it that way. As if he was a good dog Kingsley praised for doing a learned trick. He supposed, now that he thought about it, he was, in essence, doing just that!

"I know, Severus," the Minister for Magic said, in a voice meant to calm and soothe. "I'm just impressed that you talked to one person, let alone three of them."

So, Severus had been correct!

The other wizard regarded the list a second time. Not that he needed to. It wasn't that long.

"If Albus was alive, he'd owe me a bottle of Ogden's."

Severus snorted. "His brother owns a bar. Have him give it to you."

Chances were, that would not go over well. Just the same. That meant, though, Albus believed Severus wouldn't speak to anyone .

Interesting.

There was a part of him that liked going against what Albus expected him to do. A new chance on life, Albus probably expected him to throw it away and live the life of a hermit. Tempting, but now that he had been spending time trying to determine who to talk to.

Well, he wasn't ever going to be an extrovert who could work a room, but he didn't want to be a hermit either.

The Minister for Magic hadn't really expected him to talk to five people. He'd just made it a number that - to most - would seem reasonable, and assumed Severus would make somewhat of an effort.

In truth, now that he was here and the healer was gone, indicating he was at full health. Well, Severus could admit to being curious what a life without a war, a Dark Lord, and being a professor might be like.

"They were not tiresome," he said, gesturing with his fork to the paper Kingsley was still regarding that gave the three names he'd introduced himself to.

Hermione was the one he spoke to the most. He was fairly certain she was not under the impression that he was an alcoholic. He rarely had more than two drinks, and those two drinks lasted for hours some evenings.

He'd come to realize the more time he spent there that he, Merlin help him, enjoyed watching the goings on at the pub. He enjoyed watching her - capably - handle her drunk patrons. (And chuckled more than once when one came in the next day or so, going out of their way to apologize to her for their drunken buffoonery. She always forgave, too.) He enjoyed listening to her chat about this and that to her regulars. And they all obviously liked her.

She seemed to recognize that was what he was doing. Observing, not there to get drunk.

The local librarian, Edwin, was next on the list. He was a decent conversationalist, but not as well read as Severus was accustomed to in a librarian. He'd been spoiled with Irma, he supposed. Still, they'd chatted about this or that book or author more than once. He wasn't a complete dunderhead at any rate.

Last, there was a gentleman who worked at the local market's meat area Severus had struck up a conversation with when he asked to have a pork roast divided into two smaller portions. Better to have it done at the store where they could seal them properly.

A pork roast they ate a portion of tonight, in fact.

His name was Cordell, and he seemed knowledgeable about cooking. Severus learned this by Cordell giving him some tips on what to serve with the pork roast. (He didn't mind the tips, as it had been years since he had to cook for himself.) The butcher had been sporting a Manchester U cap and, while Severus could really give two figs about football, it was nice to just aimlessly chatter with someone about a topic that didn't mean something in the grand scheme of things.

He hadn't really met anyone else he wanted to speak to. He was aware he'd have to work on that if he hoped to fit in. Small steps. Talking to anyone socially was huge for him.

He'd actually seen Hermione at the library, which had been a not so unpleasant development. She seemed so genuinely pleased, and surprised, to see him there. He could admit to being equally as surprised to see her there. It wasn't a vast collection here, but there was something about libraries that he enjoyed. And wanted to see them survive. He never wanted them to be determined as being something that could be stripped away. A world without free knowledge was abhorrent to him.

The library in Cokeworth had been a godsend to him in his youth. He could spend hours there without being harassed, or asked to leave because he couldn't buy anything. The librarian, Mrs. Whitcomb, had never reported to his parents what he'd read in all of his hours spent there either. His mum might not have cared, but his father likely would have.

Edwin had not seemed … pleased to see Hermione speaking to him.

Severus found that interesting. As if he was a threat to anyone, but particularly someone closer to her in age.

And not scarred. Or bitter. Or jaded.

More interesting, he observed that she didn't seem to notice or care about Edwin's opinion on them talking.

She admitted to never having read Samuel Beckett and added a book with a few of his plays published together into her haul for that day.

He also found out that she had only been living in town since July herself, though it sounded as if she'd visited the town off and on over the past few years. (He still had no idea why she was in the area. She mentioned parents, but they clearly weren't here.)

"How are you doing?" Kingsley asked.

"I am all right."

What more was there to say? Did he still wake up several times a night? Yes. Was it a nightmare that woke him the majority of the time? Also yes. He knew that Kingsley didn't really want to hear about those things, though.

Kingsley stopped taking notes, dark eyes assessing him. Severus had no idea what he was looking for, but evidently he wasn't unhappy with what he saw because the other wizard nodded. He set his pen down. Severus didn't have ink and quills on the premises. One day, he supposed he'd get there.

"Good. It looks as if you're working at settling in," the Minister for Magic said.

"Yes," Severus said with a nod.

He had unpacked a few things here and there. His bedroom and the kitchen, where they were currently sitting, were the most lived in rooms of the house at the moment. It was really more house than he'd ever need, but Kingsley had insisted it was the least they could do for him giving up everything. He was able to bring very few of his own things with him. He couldn't, but Kingsley had allowed him to take a few of his personal belongings.

And his personal lab equipment.

"I am working on it, yes."

"Do you have a lab set up yet?"

"Close, but not quite. I'm in no hurry, as I realize a new potions master suddenly appearing in the wake of my demise might be suspicious."

"Yes, thank you," Kingsley said.

Severus was, in truth, surprised Kingsley was going to allow him that occupation. Once he was ready, he would purchase an owl and such. Until now, he'd had no need for one. There was always an owl available at Hogwarts. Currently, owls Harry sent him were instructed to wait. Kingsley did not send him owls, uncertain they wouldn't be intercepted for whatever reason by someone. Not dealing with Severus, Harry and Kingsley were both thoroughly convinced they had secreted him away without anyone but Minerva being aware he was still alive. Otherwise, Severus could send Harry regular postal mail. Or apparate to a nearby magical town and send an owl from there if it was urgent. He hadn't had to do that yet, and the two wizards wanted him to avoid doing that. There couldn't be rumors of people seeing him here or there.

"Did you get a cat, Severus?" Kingsley sounded more amused than surprised, but that was there, too.

Severus scowled with a shake of his head. The orange furred interloper. Again. Merlin. Who knew a feline would make him feel inept?

"No, I most certainly did not."

"Um," Kingsley said, glancing at the orange menace that was most certainly a cat.

"Do not," Severus growled.

Said cat (because of course he wore a collar but it had no tag on it identifying its name or its owner) brushed up against Severus' leg. He had ascertained by now that the cat was part Kneazle. That was about all he'd been able to learn to this point, though. He was still no closer to learning where he came from, how he got into his home, or where his actual home was.

"Okay, well, I don't mean to question you…"

He clearly did mean to question him. He was, barely, avoiding laughing. The nerve!

"He gets in!"

"Through your wards?"

"Yes," he hissed. The hiss was a little less effective than it might have been ordinarily since he stooped down to pick up the orange ball of fluff and set him onto his lap.

He glared at the Minister for Magic, daring him to challenge him on this as his hand cupped the feline's ears one by one before moving to pet him.

"And the food and water bowls on the floor?"

Severus huffed, rolling his eyes as he scratched the topic of discussion on his back.

He shrugged. "He seems to like it here during the day. I won't have him starving."

He didn't overfill the food bowl, but he ensured there was something for the feline to nibble on when he deigned to keep Severus company.

"I see," Kingsley said.

Severus shook his head in dismay. Merlin. It was a cat! Not many familiars visited him in the dungeons at Hogwarts, but he had no problem with animals.

"He is clearly cared for. Owned. He has a collar, and he does not eat what I offer him as if he hasn't since the last time he was here." Severus shrugged. He had also felt the feline each time he showed up, ensuring he was not thinner or scragglier than his last visit. "I see that look in your eye, Kingsley. I do not need a familiar."

"While I might argue with you on that point, but no that wasn't what I was thinking."

"No?"

That surprised him. Why? Because he, himself, wondered at the wisdom of getting a pet the past week or so. This cat brought him comfort he wasn't aware he needed . For the little while he was here, he felt less alone. Something in a castle full of staff and students he had rarely ever felt.

"No. I was thinking of considering your five people done, due to your efforts with the cat."

"Well, I guess you're not such a nuisance after all then," he said, running his finger under the cat's chin. He gave a meow in response, accompanied by a soft purr.

"That moves us to the next step."

He sounded both amused and serious. Severus didn't like that at all. There were steps? How many?

"Merlin, Kingsley. What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to have a life, Severus. Yes, I know you're still working for us, but the point of secreting you away here is for you to start over. To acclimate. To live. To possibly find someone…"

"I'm aware of your intentions," he said quickly.

Marriage was not a priority to Severus. Contrary to what the wizarding world had been led to believe, it never was a priority. He'd truly never had any grandiose ideas of he and Lily growing old together. His … planning had never gotten much further beyond Hogwarts, and the hope that they could practice magic together.

He understood where Kingsley was coming from, but his goal in coming here was not to find a wife. Or the precursor to one. Severus thought Kingsley was being incredibly optimistic in thinking anyone would want to date him let alone be married to him. His personality aside, though that was no prize in and of itself. All he had to do was look in a mirror to be reminded that no one would want him. He'd never been what many would call an attractive man, but Bellatrix had ensured that was no longer even an option anymore.

"Do something social with one of these people," he said, pointing at the list.

"No," Severus said quickly.

Absolutely not. He would not embarrass himself in such a fashion.

"Severus. It doesn't have to be tomorrow. I won't hound you, but within a month I'd like to see that you have at least scheduled something with one of these three people. Or at the very least the ability to tell me which of them you'd like to schedule something with. Or someone new would certainly be acceptable."

That was unlikely, and Kingsley knew it. Three was pushing it.

"I will … try." He would hate every second of it, but he would try. He knew Kingsley wasn't doing this to be an arse. At almost thirty-nine, potentially a long life ahead of him, one hundred years. Or more. The Minister for Magic didn't want his spy left by the wayside and alone forever.

Only thing was, Severus had long ago come to the conclusion that he was probably meant to be alone. He wasn't very personable. He wasn't sure he could share … space with someone. To see and talk to someone daily would be tedious, surely. He wasn't meant to talk about the weather ad nauseam.

"Good. That's all I want you to do."

Severus nodded with a scowl.

The librarian was out of the question.

He seemed like a decent enough fellow to talk about various book titles with, but Severus could tell he wasn't someone he would want to spend time with socially. His attitude toward Hermione willingly talking to him spoke of the other man's opinion of Severus. He'd had enough of people tolerating his presence to last him a life time. He wasn't going down that road again.

Cordell? Maybe he could tolerate him socially. He didn't seem like a dunderhead. And yet, he was a butcher at a grocery store. Severus sighed, realizing the world needed butchers just as they did potions masters.

And, well, he was rather unemployed at the moment, so he couldn't exactly cast stones. Could he? Unemployed and presumed deceased.

In other words, presumed to have failed at his previous job. Hermione?

More than maybe.

There was something about her that had him return to the Majestic Yew. It wasn't the ambiance nor the whiskey. It was a pub like any other, and the Bushmills tasted the same poured from her bottle versus any other.

She had seemed so genuinely … pleased to see him at the library and with their conversation that resulted from that unexpected run-in. He had to admit, he was surprised, too. He wasn't sure what he expected from someone her age working as a barmaid, but for her to have read some of the authors they discussed wasn't it.

Elitist and snobbish? Yes, he could admit that.

She never once seemed to be offended or put off by his appearance. That was unusual. No one but Potter, Minerva, and Kingsley had seen him post-war as far as the wizarding world. A few had seen him here, though, while he'd been at a store, the library, or a pub. She was the only one who didn't look at him as if he looked any different from anyone else. Or avoid looking at him altogether. He was most used to that: looking over his shoulder or eyes focused just so that it was clear they were looking at past his ear.

There was one clerk, he imagined she was of secondary school age, at a petrol station who wouldn't even look at him. That was the response he assumed would come from women.

As it turned out, Hermione was attending University College Cork. She was … evasive as to how she ended up here from London seven years ago. Then he wasn't confessing things to her either. So he respected that she might not want to reveal things to him, and did not pry.

"Have you cast the spell on him yet?" Kingsley asked, gesturing to the cat.

"I have," he said with a nod. "His first night here, in fact. I'm not a first year, Kingsley, nor have I let my guard down. He is not an animagus."

He left out the part of him discovering that he was half-Kneazle. That might make Kingsley want to move Severus, and he really didn't want to. He probably should say something, but Severus did not get a feeling of apprehension or danger from the cat. For all he knew, he was a stray Kneazle who found his way to a magical home after being abandoned. He didn't think so. He truly seemed cared for.

"If he's able to get through your wards…"

"Yes, I have thought of that and will keep you apprised of any potential threats."

"Interesting. And thank you. I want you safe. I look forward to seeing him next time."

Severus snorted as the cat in question jumped from his lap, almost as if knowing they were talking about him. Severus watched him trot off. He could admit the times the feline visited were nice. It made him feel less alone.

He'd always been alone, but this … isolation was entirely different. Even working as a spy as he had been doing for years. Well, he was still at Hogwarts and amongst people he knew and who knew magic. He hadn't lived as a muggle since he was eleven years old.

"What will you do when I leave?"

"Well, I already ate dinner," he said, gesturing to the now empty plates on the table. They had enjoyed one of the split pork roasts Cordell had cut for him. He'd served green beans and baked macaroni and cheese along with a garlic mashed cauliflower recipe that Cordell had suggested with the roast as well. It had turned out quite tasty, which was good considering he had more than a day or two worth of leftovers to eat. "So, that leaves watching TV or going to the pub. I'll probably go to the pub."

He shrugged. He might bring a book with him tonight. He thought it might make him seem less pathetic. And not as if he was hard up for company. Or looking for people to randomly chat him up. He was not ready for that yet.

"All right. Well, thank you for dinner. I wasn't expecting to be fed."

Severus shrugged, standing as the two men wandlessly brought their plates, flatware, and glasses to the sink. He wondered how many got to share a private meal with the Ministry for Magic. He doubted there were many anymore.

"It was a good use of one of my roasts, and saves me at least a portion or two of the same leftovers."

Kingsley laughed.

"Can I do anything else?" he asked.

"No, nothing that I can think of, anyway." Severus certainly didn't expect him to wash his own dishes. It was kind of him to ask, though.

"All right. A month, Severus. It doesn't have to have happened, but I want a firm plan of something - or setting something up - in the works."

He huffed, scratching his cheek. Kingsley averted his gaze. Not before Severus saw the look of guilt in the man's eyes.

Severus didn't blame Kingsley for the state of his face. He wasn't the Minister for Magic in charge who dismissed Severus' warnings about Voldemort breaking the imprisoned death eaters housed at Azkaban out when he did finally return and had acclimated himself to being fully corporeal again.

He still wasn't sure how Bella had gotten the upper hand on him. One moment, he was deflecting spells, doing his best to subtly aid nearby Order members. The next, he woke up in more pain than he could remember ever being in. Considering the torture he'd been on the receiving end of over the years, that was saying a lot.

By some grace of … God or Merlin … she hadn't cut his eye out. Potions could be done with one eye, but he didn't think he could be as precise that way.

She'd gone to town with her favorite blade, though, along the entire side of his face otherwise. He knew of the blade, so had a salve that would slowly heal the wounds. Some of the scars would fade away. Some, though. Well, she'd insured they were permanent.

He wasn't sure what it said that the crazy witch doubted him when few others did. What did she see that others did not? He wished he could ask, but Sirius Black, assisted by Remus Lupin, had taken her out.

And there was something he wasn't sure he wished to think about.

Owing Black or Lupin … anything.

The two wizards shook hands and Kingsley left then. He had permission to apparate into and out of his home. It seemed prudent to have him coming and going from here versus risking someone magical seeing him in an area he shouldn't be. As Minister for Magic of Britain, he had the right to go anywhere. However, hiding Severus here and then being seen coming here frequently would defeat the purpose of secreting him away.

Severus went upstairs then, noticing the cat had left, too. He showered, trimming the facial hair he had. He wasn't overly fond of facial hair, but it made the scarring look a little less severe. So, he kept it, but was meticulous about keeping it looked after.

He'd seen men, magical and muggle, who didn't take such care, and Severus wondered how they kept their wives' affections. He was no expert by any means, nor did he claim to be, but it seemed just as men wanted their women to be … appealing, women would want the same in return. There were spots along his cheek, jaw, and throat where the scarring was worse than other spots that the hair grew in oddly. Splotchy.

Still.

He sighed, frustrated. He was a fool, thinking she'd accept any offer from him.

The librarian, Edwin, was clearly interested in the barmaid. And not scarred. And not older than she was. If she was a first year university student, that put her around twenty years younger than him.

Yet, she didn't talk to him as if that mattered.

He had, honestly, never put himself "out there".

Albus forbade it. It didn't fit with the story he'd weaved.

Oh, Albus knew full well that Severus realized early on he wasn't in love with Lily. He had confessed to Albus that he had mistaken friendliness for more. And had gone on to admit that he was deeply ashamed that it was only Lily he'd seemed to care about sparing back in 1980. Albus had absolved him of his guilt, claiming Severus wasn't the first man who had mistaken emotions for that which they weren't. He certainly wasn't the first or last to betray a friend either.

No one else could know that, which meant dating and courting were out of the question.

His friend was dead, because of something he'd overheard and passed along. He hadn't thought twice about the … demands Albus placed upon him. It seemed fair. She was dead, and could not watch her son grow up. Would only ever have the one child. Severus' life deserved to be placed on eternal hold.

He honestly never dreamed he'd have a life post-war. So, now that he was on the other side of the Dark Lord being defeated once and for all. Well, it was a little odd. Not to mention with Albus dead. Well, the … knife twisting the older wizard was more than just a little adept at wasn't nearly as effective as when he'd been alive.

He found he wanted to know more about the barmaid. Where was her family? What was she going to university for? What did she hope to do?

He was a hopeless fool. It could certainly be a case of the first woman who came along after he was finally free to look.

That was a lie, though.

There had been nothing stopping him the past seventeen years from seeking out a muggle woman. Or a witch in another country. Or one in Britain who was willing to be discreet.

Or telling Albus that he'd served his penance enough if someone truly caught his fancy.

No one had.

He'd taught many a witch who left Hogwarts of legal age and returned for whatever reason. None had ever been of interest.

He ran the side of his thumb along the scar that bisected his eyebrow, going from forehead to below his cheek. He still had no idea how the crazy witch had missed taking out his eye. Unless that was her intention, leaving him to have to see how hideous he now looked. He could only assume it was so. Him having the use of both his eyes to see exactly what she'd done to him. She would likely have enjoyed that.

He dressed, actually putting some thought into it.

He was going to have to at least have made an effort to do something social with someone within the next month. To some, that wouldn't be difficult. It was immensely difficult for someone like him.

He snorted as he slid his coat on and wrapped the scarf around his neck. It would be just his luck if he ended up asking Cordell to tea because he was be unable to muster up the courage to do so with the barmaid.

*****

There was someone he didn't recognize sitting in the stool he'd claimed as his the past few weeks. He frowned, but made his way to an empty chair on the other end of the bar. One he still considered to be … defendable. Starting an argument over a barstool wasn't the way to make friends. And probably not the way to ingratiate himself to the barmaid he'd come here to see.

And he'd come to the conclusion it was her drawing him here. He could buy a bottle of Bushmill's and drink it at home.

"Hi Severus," Hermione said, as she made her way to him.

"How are you tonight, Hermione?"

She didn't even ask him anymore what he wanted, which … pleased him. She poured the Bushmill's generously as usual.

"I'm all right. You don't come in on weekends, I noticed."

"I'm not exactly a people person, so haven't ventured out on the weekend yet, no."

She laughed. "I'm not much of a people person either."

He chuckled. She did much better in this occupation than he would. He'd likely be in Azkaban for violating the Statute after an hour in a position like this. "Can I buy you one?"

"Sure," she said.

She went and made herself what he presumed was a rum and Coke, garnished with a lime he noticed.

She offered him her glass, and he lifted his glass to meet hers.

"No questions on why I'm working in a pub if I don't like people?"

"You didn't say you don't like people, though. You said you're not a people person. That's not necessarily the same thing. And, no, I wouldn't ask you that. That would be rather … indelicate. I spent eighteen years as a secondary school teacher when teenagers are probably my least favorite choice in people."

She laughed then.

"Yeah, teenagers can be dicey."

"Says one not too far removed from that age," he said with a low chuckle.

She shrugged, didn't look angry at his saying so. He'd almost left his comment at simply "says one", but decided that would be both accusatory and rude. He didn't wish to be either. "I don't think I'm your average teenager. And I'm a university student, not a secondary student."

"That is true."

"What did you teach?" she asked. She hadn't poured herself a tall drink, but she wasn't rushing away from him. That had to be a good sign, didn't it?

"Chemistry," he said.

"I like chemistry."

That surprised him. Muggles' eyes usually glazed over when he mentioned his specialty. It came in handy, because typically no one wanted further information about his job. "It is an acquired taste."

"Agreed. My parents are dentists."

"Oh?" he asked. That explained her straight, white teeth. He wasn't sure what their being dentists had to do with chemistry. Other than he supposed there was some … science that went into the various dental procedures that went on.

"Yes."

"In London," he said. He thought she had mentioned being from London in a prior conversation. He was rather certain of it, because he'd admitted to being from Cokeworth.

"Yes," she replied. "I think they were hoping I'd become one, too." Ah, that explained why she'd brought up their occupation. "Being a history major seemed about as far from becoming a dentist as I could get."

He chuckled and she finished her drink then. He knew that feeling well. He didn't want to be anything like either of his parents. Yes, he was living here amongst muggles, as his mother had done. He was still aiding the wizarding world, though. His mum had turned her back on her gifts completely. He didn't think it was the same. And he was certainly far removed from turning into his father.

"Thank you for the drink," she said.

"Thank you for joining me."

He took his book out of his coat pocket, setting it on the bar in front of him before he glanced at the others in the bar.

"You came to stay a while," she said, gesturing to the book.

"I'm told staying at home all of the time is unhealthy."

She laughed softly. He noticed she eyed the book title. He wondered if she'd read it, but she was here to work, not to talk about books with him. He'd ask her later, or some other time.

"I'll check on you in a while."

"I will be here."

He read, watching occasionally as she dealt with other patrons. He took in his surroundings, an ear tuned to them. It was why he'd chosen One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest . He'd read it before and, for a situation like this, it allowed him to look busy and preoccupied while still able to be attentive. And he enjoyed the book, so it was still entertaining. He wasn't sure he'd ever get to the point of not wanting to be aware of his surroundings and what was going on around him.

Maybe one day.

Plenty of patrons flirted with Hermione. She was not receptive, or didn't seem to be anyway. She was friendly, as her job required her to be, but there was a wall she clearly kept erected between herself and anyone else.

At closing time it was just him and a small group of three. One of those three had been not too subtly trying to do more than flirt with Hermione. Wren, he was pretty sure the young man's name was from previous visits. Severus watched the more drinks the man had to ensure he needn't intervene.

He set his book down on the bar, glancing from the group of men to the barmaid. If he recalled correctly, there was usually a fourth with them. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen just three of them before tonight.

"Would you like me to stay?" he asked. He'd already closed out his tab and was just finishing the last of his drink.

Her head shot up. His question surprised her it seemed.

"I may not look like much, but I assure you I am good in a scuffle," he added.

She gave him a smile. Was that a blush? It was pretty dimly lit in here, as was typical for pubs.

"I get that about you, Severus. Something tells me you have some interesting stories to tell, too." She glanced from him to the table of three. They didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave despite closing time quickly approaching. They weren't behaving horribly out of control, but it was clear they'd had more than a couple of beers tonight. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all. So long as you won't get in trouble."

"No, I'll just shoo you out when they leave."

"I will consider myself justifiably shoo'd then."

"So long as I don't have a jealous wife coming in tomorrow, accusing me of being a homewrecker."

He scoffed and she frowned.

"Oh, you're serious?" Was she trying to find out if he was single?

"Kind of," she said.

"I assure you, Hermione, that I would not be here as frequently as I am if I had anyone to go home to. Or stay home with."

"That is a relief."

"Has that happened before?"

"Mm, yes, not through any fault of mine. I guess, you know, young, single bartender," she shrugged. "I mean, I don't know why they get mad at me instead of the men they don't trust. Or themselves for not trusting them."

He nodded. He'd seen it before himself over the years. Various parts of the tale, in fact. "Not inaccurate."

"I mean, I just pour the drinks. I don't give my number out, and I don't take numbers offered to me. I don't live far from here, so people know me. I'm not going to be gossiped about! I'm here to pay my bills while I go to university."

"And then what?"

"Not serve creepy, drunk men drinks."

"Ouch," he said. Maybe she was getting him back for his teenagers comment earlier?

She laughed then, leaning against the counter on her side of the bar. She draped her bar towel over her shoulder. She was looking at the table of men still here.

"I know it's only been a few weeks since you've been coming here regularly, but you've never been drunk, Severus," she said. She looked at him then. "You're not creepy, and you're not old. You don't seem to think my serving you whiskey means I want to snog you."

"Mm," he said, knowing he was likely blushing a bit.

She ran a fingertip along the back of his hand resting on the bar.

"You're nice to me. I appreciate that."

"Well, you are clearly intelligent."

"Mm, you've given me the chance to talk."

"You are a capable conversationalist."

"Back at you," she said.

She went back to her work. He returned to finishing his whiskey, leaving the book closed at this point.

The remaining men stood and readied themselves to leave. Severus realized that was his cue. He downed the rest of his drink. He'd already closed his tab, so there was nothing left for him to do. He stayed to be polite, nothing more. He stood, sliding his coat on.

"I like your scarf," she said as he secured it around his neck.

"Thank you. It was a gift from a childhood friend's son."

"Generous gift. It looks handmade, so one of a kind."

"It is. It's a long story. His mother, my friend, and his father both passed away when he was a baby. He and I have forged somewhat of a friendship. He was one of my students, one of the more tolerable ones, when he wasn't being a pubescent boy." There was far more to it than that, but he couldn't tell her more. "Anyway, it was a thoughtful gift, and very appreciated, as other fabrics are irritating." He gestured to his neck and jaw.

"I'm glad he has you. Someone he can hear stories from."

"He has his godfather and his father's other friend as well, but neither were acquainted with his mother when she was a child. So, I suppose, yes, he does."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something so personal. I really just like the scarf. I knit, but I'd be hard-pressed to make that."

That would explain why she noticed it, he supposed. He wore it every other time here.

"Nonsense. You couldn't possibly have known. It's a scarf, and they've been dead for nearly twenty years." He glanced at the other patrons as he buttoned his coat. "I can wait to ensure you get into your car all right."

"I walk. I just live down the street," she said.

"Is that safe?"

"I can hold my own."

"All right," he bowed his head. "I apologize if I insulted your capabilities. The gentleman in me…"

"I'm not insulted. If you really want to wait, I'd take a ride home."

His eyes widened a fraction, her offer surprised him. For multiple reasons. When it got down to it, she didn't know him.

"I will wait then," he replied. And Kingsley being thrilled was rather low on his reasons for saying he would.

"Great. I'll try to hurry."

He knew there was a manager who worked during her shift, so she wasn't entirely alone. Presumably, there was an office and such in the back. Severus had only seen a manager once in his time spent here. So, he had no idea how … caring they were about their employees' safety. (Not just Hermione either.)

*****

He waited in his car for over forty-five minutes, wondering pretty much the entire time what in the bloody hell he was thinking! Never in his wildest imagination did he picture himself making such an offer. To anyone. Ever. Not to say he didn't care of others' safety. Of course he did, but clearly she'd gotten to and from work without his interference prior to tonight just fine.

And yet, something had him make the offer.

Most importantly: what was she thinking! She didn't know him to know he was any less of a threat than Wren and his friends.

She probably went out another door and went home. He wouldn't blame her for doing that. It was about the time he debated the wisdom of sticking around at all that he spotted her coming out of a door toward the back of the building. His was the only car left on the parking lot, so she walked toward it without hesitation. He started the car and worked the automatic locks. He was very glad he drove tonight. He didn't always. He supposed he'd have to now. She would know which car was his to notice it wasn't here from one night to the next.

"Hi," she said. "You waited."

Was she expecting he wouldn't? Had his tone, or anything about his offer, seemed disingenuous? He'd never know, he supposed.

"I said that I would."

"You've never offered me a ride home before."

Had she been expecting him to? He didn't always express concern for her safety, but he did usually ask before leaving if she was all right. She always said that she was. He'd never thought to extend the concern to an offer of a ride home before tonight. Was that wrong? Hell if he knew. He didn't stay until closing every night either.

"I guess I didn't realize you walked home."

"Oh," she said. "It's pretty safe here."

"Well, one can never be too careful."

"Like getting into a car with someone I've only known for a few weeks."

"I suppose so," he said. He was pleased to hear her say that. It meant she probably had thought about the wisdom in accepting his offered ride home. "If this is awkward…"

"No, I was just pointing out a bit of irony."

"Indeed," he said as she shifted on his passenger seat after fastening her safety belt.

She directed him to her flat with very little beyond her directions being said between them. She lived in the upstairs portion of a pretty old looking house. She mentioned that the first floor was rented by a family. He guessed she didn't want him to think she was a wealthy first year college student with an entire house at her disposal. There would be some who would think that.

He put the car in park. Merlin, he sucked at this. He really did. Then she hadn't fled the car the second he'd pulled up to the house either.

In fact, she still hadn't gotten out. Now what?

Think, Severus.

"May I walk you to your door?"

She released her safety belt, turning a bit on her seat to look at him.

"That gentleman thing again?" she asked. She sounded amused, not wary or insulted that he would make the offer.

"If you want that to be true, yes."

She laughed then. "Sure."

He shut the car off then and unfastened his own safety belt before getting out and going to her side to open her door for her.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

The entrance to her flat was on the outside, so he followed her up the steps that led to the second floor.

"Did the job or the flat come first?" he asked. The flat wasn't far from the pub at all. Even on a bitterly cold winter's day, the walk wouldn't be too tedious. Even without a warming charm.

She glanced over her shoulder at him as she worked the lock on the door. She brightened a bit, visible because she (as she should) had an external light by the door that kept the entrance area lit up. She seemed to know exactly what he was asking her. Or, rather, why he was asking the question.

"The job came first. I don't have to be on campus for classes at eight in the morning this semester, but that may not be the case next semester. I want to be sure I get as much sleep as I can."

"Wise."

She removed her key from the lock and pushed the door open.

"Thank you, Severus," she said.

"You don't have to thank me for being kind, Hermione, but you're welcome," he said as he hovered at the threshold. The flat was, from his cursory view, rather small. Likely, though, for a university student who wasn't here much beyond sleeping, it was sufficient.

She stood on her tiptoes, making him realize (again) how rather petite this woman was. She bussed him on the lips, taking him completely by surprise. So much so that he didn't respond at first, and she drew away. Her head was bowed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I just thought," she whispered.

He cleared his throat softly. She thought what? Never mind that. She was apologizing? Merlin. He really did suck at this.

"No, it's me who should be sorry. I was not expecting."

"Really?"

He scoffed then. She was truly surprised?

"Really. That not being the point of offering you a ride aside, look at me," he said.

She set a hand against his scarred cheek then. Her thumb slid along a portion of the scar near his eye. Her eyes drifted from being focused on her hand at his scar to his eyes.

"Do I look like this bothers me?"

No, she hadn't until now, but he didn't think that would translate into her kissing him. He just assumed it meant she'd been raised properly, as to not judge others for visible imperfections.

"They're not the only ones," he murmured.

She frowned, clearly looking confused, as large as it was, it was very clearly the only set of scars on his face and he chuckled.

"On my face, yes. Well, I guess technically there's more than one there. Anyway, irrelevant, as it's not my face I'm talking about."

"Mm," she said, her brown eyes looking at his face rather intently. He wanted to fidget from it, actually. He didn't like being scrutinized. It was one of the reasons he excelled at being a spy. He didn't like attention on him, and few paid him attention when he wasn't doing what he could to get people focused on him.

She placed both hands on the lapels of his coat and tugged on them as she stepped further into her flat. Her mouth found his again, this time he did not hesitate in responding. Was he uncertain?

Yes.

Enthusiastic?

Also yes.

He gave a soft groan as he felt her tongue dart along his lower lip.

She pushed his coat over his shoulders and off. As it hit the floor at their feet in a soft thud, he thought he might just thank his lucky stars he offered her a lift home tonight.

His hands found her face, sliding along her cheeks until his fingers met her hair. He slid them through it, surprised to find it free of … stickiness or hardness that would make him think she used products like hairspray or gel in it.

Surprising because he just assumed all women used them. Certainly women her age.

Her lips parted first, but he followed suit almost immediately. He felt the tip of her tongue brush along the tip of his and she let out a soft giggle as his tongue drew away and then returned to hers again.

She worked his scarf out from around his neck. She seemed … mindful to go slow and exercise caution that she not drag it along his scars. This was followed by the buttons on the front of his shirt. He was … not certain what was happening. This type of thing had never happened to him before in his life.

He bit the tip of her tongue lightly.

"Ow," she said, drawing away. Not completely away. She didn't look as if she was truly hurt, and he knew he hadn't bitten that hard. It was barely even a nip. Her hands now were focused on his shirt and the buttons.

"I was just making sure I'm not dreaming."

"Mm, have you dreamed of kissing me?"

Yes, yes, he had. He should be ashamed of that, but he wasn't. It had been a long time since he'd had … personal dreams.

However.

Should he actually tell her that? He doubted it.

"I'm not sure answering that question is wise."

"Why not?" she asked, looking at his face now. She looked confused, maybe (though he admittedly had never seen that look on her face to know what it might look like on her), but mostly he interpreted the look as one of interest. She wanted to hear what he had to say.

Merlin.

That was an aphrodisiac in and of itself, because it wasn't something he ever imagined finding. He was always in the background, passed over for the other wizards who were more … whatever than he was.

"Yes or no, you could be insulted. I don't wish to do that, certainly not tonight. Yes or no, could make me look bad."

"I see," she said with a slight nod, biting her lower lip. She gave a bit of a cheeky grin then. "You care about your image, don't you, Severus?"

That was an interesting statement, though she wouldn't appreciate why that was true. Many believed he did not, and equated that to his desire - and ability - to spy. It did matter, though. Reputation. Image. What others thought. He'd grown up with parents most pointed at with ridicule, he was oftentimes included in that ridicule. He'd lost friends as a youth, or potential friends, as a result of the Snape name. What people assumed they knew about his mother and father. He didn't want that same experience as an adult.

"It's really all that I have left, Hermione."

Of course, he was currently presumed dead with which side he was truly on left up in the air. To all but Minerva, Kingsley, and Harry anyway. So, he supposed he didn't really have much of an image left. He did have the image he'd like to present, though, going forward.

She slid one hand to his left wrist, working the buttons securing the cuff before moving to his right wrist and repeating the movement. It was new to him, wearing shirts without cufflinks, as well as with cuffs and collars that were not removable.

Then her hand went to his chest and pushed the shirt open and off.

"Mm, I'm not surprised to see an undershirt, too."

She was … teasing him, he was pretty sure. At the very least, he was confident that she wasn't making fun of him.

"It might be a tank top if it was summer, but always, yes."

She nodded, clearly not surprised by that revelation. Hell, if he was an observer of himself, he wouldn't be surprised either.

"You're rather proper, aren't you, Severus?"

"You might say so, yes. Is that acceptable?"

She snorted softly, evidently finding that funny, and leaning up to kiss his jaw. The facial hair did not seem to bother her, he was pleased to note.

"It is, but," she murmured, nipping at a spot just beneath his ear. "Is it okay if I can see how improper I can get you to be?"

He cleared his throat, swallowing at the … implication … at those words. She kissed his throat at the same time and gave another soft giggle, obviously feeling his Adam's apple move.

"I think that could be quite enjoyable, yes."

Who was he kidding? It would likely be more than just quite enjoyable.

She gave a slight nod. "I think so, too," she said. This was followed by a blush, but she didn't seem to mind. That she was blushing, or that he noticed.

She drew away then and he felt the loss of her warmth and closeness almost immediately. Where was she going?

Ah. She closed the door. Though that meant, she wasn't expecting him to leave right away. Didn't it? She hadn't actually invited him to stay.

And then she bent down to untie her boots. He'd never seen her wear any other footwear at work. She slid them off and set them on a mat next to the door. Next to the boots, he noticed, were a regular pair of trainers.

"Why do you wear boots to work?"

While they looked worn enough to be broken in and comfortable, he thought trainers would be more so when one was on one's feet all night.

"Um," she said. She glanced from him to the mat, and seemed to realize the reason behind his question. "Well, first of all, if I ever have to kick someone I want to make sure it hurts."

He winced a bit at the … very thought. She hung up her coat then. And then his, wrapping his scarf around it.

"I've never had to, and I wasn't talking about there . I was thinking about a shin, knee, or stomping on someone's foot. Though, judging by your reaction, maybe I should rethink that. Anyway, I have dropped a bottle or two that have landed on my foot, and I've been very glad for the boots."

Reasonable. He understood. He was glad she wore the boots for some protection. He wasn't sure how much they actually afforded her, but was glad the thought entered her mind to take some precautions. Drunk men - and women - could be imbeciles.

She came back to him. On the way, she crossed her arms over her midsection and lifted the muggle T-shirt advertising the band Aerosmith's Get A Grip tour. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she'd seen it, as she seemed a little young to have. It had been a few years ago, he knew. He didn't ask, though, not really wanting to … change the subject. Or, rather, the focus.

He'd ask later.

Seconds later, her shirt joined his on the floor.

He stared.

He couldn't help it. He was certain she'd find him pathetic if he admitted that even still in brassiere and jeans, this was the most of a woman he'd seen. Meant for his eyes alone anyway. He'd seen women in bathing suits and such, of course.

Her hands fell to his waist then, working his undershirt out from his trousers and then up. She gave a sharp intake of breath as his torso was exposed the higher the undershirt went. He hadn't looked at his reflection from shoulders down lately, standing in front of a mirror was not a favorite pastime of his. He didn't need to. He knew what he looked like. Between his father and the Dark Lord.

Well, he was a mess.

His hand reached for one of her wrists, preventing her from removing the undershirt entirely. This was a ridiculous idea, even if it wasn't his. He was going along with it.

"Hermione," he whispered.

She didn't answer him, instead seeming to find one of his nipples interesting, circling it first with the tip of her index finger and then with her tongue. A very talented tongue by his judgment. He groaned. Merlin. He couldn't help it. He never realized that would elicit a response. It, nipple stimulation, was not something he engaged in when pleasing himself.

He released her wrist, and she gave a soft groan that might have sounded a bit … triumphant before sliding the undershirt the rest of the way over his head and off, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of their articles of clothing. Was he that easy? Evidently so. Did that bother him? She latched onto his nipple for a moment and then slid her mouth slightly beside it.

No, it didn't bother him, and he wasn't ashamed of that at all.

"Can I?"

He wasn't sure what she was asking him.

She glanced up at him without removing her mouth very far from his chest. Fuck, he'd let her do pretty much anything she wanted at this point. The look in her eyes was worth it.

"Yes," he whispered.

Her mouth returned to his chest then, and she kissed him before sucking and biting on the spot. His hands went to her head, running through her hair until he met her shoulders. He slid the pads of his fingers along them and her shoulder blades. Her other hand slid up along his torso, finding his other nipple and stroked it with her thumb.

She drew away after a few minutes, running a fingertip along what he realized now was a hickey. She took a few steps back, offering him her hand. He took it, noticing how smooth her hands were. He followed her to what was obviously her bedroom. There was only one other door in the flat. He presumed it led to a bathroom.

He took in the room. Neat. Not overly so as if she'd just cleaned it, expecting company, but she was clearly an organized person. He hadn't had much of a chance to notice that about the living area. A bed, dresser, a bookcase packed to the brim. There were even books stacked on top of the bookcase. He liked that! His eyes fell on her desk. There was a textbook on it, open with a pencil resting in between the pages and a legal pad next to it.

A reminder that she was a student. A college student, but just the same. Younger than him.

"Hermione," he said, clearing his throat. Should he speak up? He had to, didn't he? What kind of man would he be if he didn't? "I would be derelict, as a gentleman, if I did not ensure that you do not think you're under any obligation? That you do not think I offered you a ride home for this?"

"No and no," she said, closing her bedroom door behind them. "Sit," she said, gesturing to the foot of the bed. He did as directed, still rather … flabbergasted that this was happening to him. Never in his wildest dreams had such a scenario entered his mind. Not even the few dreams he'd had about this woman had gone to this.

She knelt on the floor at his feet and worked his boot fastenings (not his preferred dragon hide boots), sliding them off and then his socks. She slid her thumbs over the tops of each foot, there were scars there, too, before she stood and seated herself on his lap. Her knees were on either side of his thighs.

Not that he was complaining that she did so.

She slid her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him again. This he also had no complaints about.

He broke the kiss, not wanting to at all. The curious part of him, though, was taking over and his hands did not want to … be still. They wanted to touch, to explore, to get to know every inch of her.

"May I touch you?" he murmured.

"Well, yeah," she said. She brushed her cheek against his jaw, finding his ear. "I've noticed you have very nice hands, Severus. You trace the rim of your glass with your fingers a lot. The way you turn the pages in your books when you read. Please use them on me."

Merlin.

She nipped at his ear, tugging on it gently with her teeth.

"And unlike the glass, I won't break and don't have chips that can cut you."

Merlin again.

Where to start?

Did he take her bra off?

Leave it on?

Her tongue slid along the edge of his ear, and he realized if he didn't do … something, she'd wonder why. He started with her shoulder again, grazing it with his index finger until he felt the beginning of her collarbone. So soft. Blemish free, only the peaks and valleys one associated with the shape of the bone he touched. He traced that to her other shoulder and she drew away from him then, hands still on his shoulders. He pushed the bra strap down and traced lower along her chest there, over the top of her breast. His eyes flicked to hers because she'd stopped kissing him, but her eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip. Was that good?

He slid the other strap lower with his other hand and she shivered a bit.

"You are all right?" he murmured.

"Yes," she whispered. "It feels good to have you touch me."

Well, that was good to know. It did beg to question, though. Were there … rules? Limits? He had no idea what exactly she had in mind, contrary to her bringing him into her bedroom. Logic would say there would be no rules or limits. However, on this, he could not go with logic or instinct. The final say of what he could and couldn't do came down to her.

"Is my touching just limited to my hands? Or may I return your love bite for one of your own?"

Her eyes opened a bit.

"Please," she whispered.

Merlin.

He reached around her then, finding the brassiere's clasp and working it undone with not nearly as much of a struggle as he imagined he would. She slid it the rest of the way off, as she did so she shifted on his lap, causing him to groan a bit. Her sliding off of his lap, shortened the groan and she gave a soft giggle. As if she knew why he wasn't pleased with her leaving his lap.

"I'm not going anywhere, Severus," she said.

She reached for the fastenings on her jeans, turning to face away from him as she worked them open and began shucking them in a very common way that he nonetheless found incredibly arousing. There was something … simple yet erotic about watching her shimmy the jeans over her hips, thighs, and finally her calves before stepping out of them. Her facing away from him only heightened that arousal. All those curls cascading along her back as she moved was rather fascinating. She placed both hands at her abdomen and he wondered if she was going to remove her knickers, too. Knickers that matched her bra in color and fabric. Satiny things both items were. Both black, which he liked. A lot he found.

She left her panties in place, turning to face him again before stepping back so her legs touched his. She reached for the belt buckle at the front of his trousers. "May I?" she asked.

"Please," he said, knowing his voice sounded anything but strong or confident just then. She smiled at that, apparently liking that he repeated her response from a moment ago about the love bite.

She worked the belt open, left it where it was otherwise, and then worked the fastening on his trousers. He shifted as she worked his trousers off, tossing them over where hers were.

This was probably the first time in his life that he didn't care his clothing hadn't been put away properly.

"We match," she murmured, and he blushed a bit at that. His boxers today were black. She returned to his lap. His eyes fell closed at the … feel of her pressed so intimately against him. Barely any barrier between them at all.

Finally, it was his turn to use his mouth. He started at her jaw kissing, licking, and nipping his way along it before finding her neck. Lower still to the collarbone he'd traced with his finger moments ago. The swell of first her left and then right breast before capturing its peak in between his lips.

She gave a soft cry as his tongue found the peak, thorough in his attentions to it before moving back to her left breast and repeating that. As she had done, he slid his mouth to the side and began to leave his mark on her. Judging by her mewls that weren't entirely soft, she liked it as much as he had when she did it.

Good to know.

He captured her mouth with his when he finished, dropping his hands to her hips before cupping her arse through her knickers. For her part, she was (as was the case for this entire night thus far) more assertive than he, parting the slit in his boxers so that his shaft sprang free. Her hand around it felt very different from his own. Smaller. Softer. Uncertain. However, as hers was the only hand other than his that had done this, he wasn't sure he wouldn't finish just from the sheer … excitement that someone was touching him.

He broke the kiss then.

"Will you lay on the bed, Hermione?"

She smiled at him, her eyes betraying her desire. For him. Such an odd thing to see directed toward him. He'd seen it before, of course, several times over the years. Just never aimed at him.

She did as he asked, sliding off of him once more, and moving to lay on her bed after drawing the bedding down.

He stood so that he could join her, taking a moment to look at her. She took that opportunity to shed her knickers, something he probably should have stopped her from doing so that he could himself. He was, however, still wrapping his mind around the fact this was happening.

With this woman.

He shed his boxers before joining her, not at all insulted at her response to seeing all of him. He knew he wasn't pretty. He was fit enough, even if he was still on the thin side. If someone preferred the bodybuilder type, that wasn't him. He thought, judging what he'd read in books, that he was decently endowed. She didn't look at him as if he was unsatisfactory, in any capacity. (He should maybe be embarrassed that he was as hard as he was from merely the idea of her wanting him, but he couldn't find it in him to be at the moment.)

He slid next to her, moving to his side and sliding a hand to her mons. He'd seen pictures, heard wizards talk (paying little attention to most who merely talked to be a braggart), but it wasn't the real thing. A fingertip slid over her nub and she gasped so he did it again and gave a soft groan of his own as her eyes fell closed and her lips parted.

He slid his middle finger lower, grazing her slit with it. Merlin, she was wet, as just that touch dampened his finger. He dipped the same finger inside of her, feeling the warm core of her accept and take him in, as he shifted his hand a bit so he could slide his finger completely inside of her.

"I knew those fingers would feel good."

He glanced at her then. "Did you?"

"Mm hmm," she said, shifting her hips as if trying to take his finger in deeper. He withdrew it a bit.

"No!"

He chuckled, adding his ring finger.

"Ohhh, I take that back."

"Mm," he said. He found her breast again, now a bit flushed. He was causing that reaction in her. Heady. He found her nipple and her moan as he nipped it lightly told him he was doing the right thing.

He'd heard wizards talk of preferring their women saying and doing little. He couldn't imagine. Her … contributions, letting him know she was liking something, were very welcome. And more than a little arousing.

She slid her hand along her abdomen for a moment and then slid it to his torso. He flinched instinctively as she traced over one of his scars.

"Does that hurt?"

"Not at all," he murmured. "Just unaccustomed…"

"Got it."

His fingers inside of her and thumb at her nub, he took his cue from the sounds she made and the shifting of her hips as to what she wanted, how to bring her off. Merlin, men complained about having to do this? Not all did, but some very much did. He was pretty sure he could lay here and do this for the rest of his life and be relatively satisfied.

Her nails bit into his hip when she finally fell over the edge. For his part, the love bite he'd left her earlier now had a larger, and much darker, twin. He winced a bit at the sight of it as he slid his fingers out of her, bringing them to his mouth.

"Mm," she said, eyes darkening as she watched him lick his ring finger.

She grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to her lips, darting her tongue over his middle finger.

"Can I do anything for you?" she asked.

"Um…" What in the hell was he supposed to say to that? She guided his middle finger back to his mouth, and he gladly took the opportunity to taste more of her.

"I mean, you feel ready."

"I am," he said. He was more than ready.

"Then be inside of me, Severus," she said.

"You are sure. I say again, I did not offer you a ride home or to walk you to your door to this end."

"I know you didn't, Severus. I wouldn't be here with you right now if I thought that at all."

He moved on top of her then, taking a moment to cast a silent contraceptive charm.

"I'm sorry if I added to your scars," she said, sounding a little cheeky as she grazed the hip that had been her fingernails' victim moments ago.

"I will gladly take those on, and I am not … ashamed of them. I just know that most find it unpleasant."

"Mm. I find it intriguing. And a physical display of someone who has obviously survived. And isn't that what life is about? Surviving?"

"I guess that it is," he said.

He guided himself into her, eyes falling closed as soon as he felt her warm folds welcoming the head of his shaft. His eyes snapped open when he felt what was very obvious evidence she had not done this before either.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"I'm fine, I swear it."

He nodded then, eyes remaining open and focused on hers for any sign that she wanted him to stop. That she was hurting. That he was not doing this right. (He didn't think that was the case.)

Her eyes changed from the normal shade of brown they were to a glowing golden color as soon as he pushed through her maidenhead. She sucked in a breath, not from pain it didn't seem. More like surprise. Curiosity.

"Your eyes," she whispered.

"Yours, too," he murmured.

She shivered, and he presumed she was feeling the same thing he was. His … magic … for lack of a better word was reaching, searching, for hers. She was his soul mate. Something he assumed he didn't have long ago (not everyone did, he knew).

"You're a wizard," she said.

"Says the witch," he said, as he felt a thrumming through his body that had nothing to do with what he was doing to complete their joining. He reached for one of her hands, bringing it between their bodies. She knew what he was asking, so slid her hand between their pelvises and found her nub. He gave a soft gasp as the thrumming intensified.

"Did you feel that?" she asked.

"I don't think I can finish until you do," he murmured. "You know yourself better than I do, and I really am ready to finish." He felt like a fool saying he didn't want their joining to continue, but it was almost … painful. An ache that he knew wouldn't go away until they both finished.

And then he felt like a fool for thinking that what he was experiencing was painful when he'd literally torn through a piece of her body, and she hadn't even winced.

"Oh," she said. "Can I tell you that you feel very good?"

He snorted. "I think that is acceptable, yes, but I assure you no better than you feel around me. You feel as if you were made for me. I believe there's a reason for that, too."

He couldn't look away even if he'd wanted to, and sensed she was in the same predicament. The golden hue to her eyes was increasing, growing deeper and he suspected his was as well.

"Finish with me, Severus," she whispered, and he did precisely that. He continued thrusting as his seed felt as if it erupted from him. The gold hue seemed to be everywhere now. Around them. In them, emitting from their skin, no longer just their eyes.

The thrumming started decreasing. His … magic finally seemed as sated as he felt. He could only presume hers felt the same way. He hoped anyway. Her skin was back to its normal hue. Her eyes were returning to their normal, lovely, shade of brown.

Silence. Well, their breathing was audible, but otherwise. Neither knew what to say, it seemed.

"May I be so tactless as to make a request?"

"Um?"

"I told you that I taught muggle chemistry, which was not factual. I taught potions."

"Okay," she said.

He realized it probably sounded like the most ridiculous thing to bring up at this precise moment in time. He cleared his throat, pushing through with what he was about to say, despite feeling a bit like a fool.

"Your blood would be a very potent and valuable ingredient…"

"That's just not you wanting to ditch me after that and go home, is it?"

He scoffed. She obviously didn't realize, he wouldn't be able to ditch her for the rest of their lives now, even if he wanted to.

"No, I have what I need in my coat pocket."

"You just carry that around with you?"

"I carry vials around with me, yes. I never know where I'll encounter something wanted or needed."

"Oh, I suppose."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

"I apologize for turning this into something scientific, but I'd be derelict in my occupation which ultimately is to aid others. And the fact that this was both of our first times is not something I can ignore."

"You've never?" Her eyes narrowed, as if she did not believe him.

"I assure you. I can, later, share every memory I have if you wish to see whether I speak the truth. Not to mention, what nearly forty year old man would say that he was that who was not?"

"I suppose you have a point."

"You are sure. If it is offensive, or lessens what we have just done…"

"No," she said, shaking her head against the pillow beneath it. "It will help someone?"

"Yes. Potentially a few someones."

"Then, yes." No hesitation or … revulsion in her response.

He slid out of the bed then, reaching for his boxers.

"Severus," she said.

He looked at her and saw her sitting up in bed, watching him rather intently. The love bites he'd left her, visible on both of her breasts. Each a temporary physical mark showing that she was his. Her hair, normally appearing to have a mind of its own but tamed, was wild and hanging over a shoulder. Merlin, she was beautiful.

"You're lovely," he said.

She blushed then and he bowed his head.

"If that is not a welcome comment…"

"No, that's not it at all, Severus. I've never been told I was lovely before. Thank you. I think you're rather lovely, too."

He scoffed. "You called my name?"

"Yes, don't put the boxers back on."

"Oh?"

She shook her head, biting her lower lip as she looked at him in a way he swore he'd never expected to see a witch looking at him. Lustful. Wanting. Desire. His eyes widened at the implication of that look.

She wanted him. Again.

He dropped the boxers then, uncomfortable as he was doing so. Hell, he was uncomfortable simply being undressed as a whole, so the shorts wouldn't have made much of a difference. He padded to her living room then and found his coat.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Did she have a flatmate? Was the second door he'd seen in fact another bedroom, not a bathroom? A resident ghost? And then he saw a familiar bushy tail.

"Well, hello, my friend," he said.

And suddenly the feline's presence at his home, being able to get through his wards, made incredible sense. She likely would have been able to, too. Maybe. He supposed he wasn't sure. Studying soul mates and what they could and couldn't do wasn't something he did much of over the years. Why read about something that you were never going to have?

He reached into his coat pocket, retrieving his shrunken briefcase and returning it to its normal size. From there, he retrieved some empty vials as well as a pain reliever for her. Oral and a salve that could be administered directly to the … affected area. He closed the briefcase then, setting it down and reached to pet the cat.

"Was I supposed to follow you? Was that what you wanted me to do?" He supposed if he'd changed into his animagus form he could have found that out, but he hadn't bothered to since arriving here. A black panther in the Forbidden Forest wasn't going to cause a ruckus. In residential Cork County, it likely would. Even if he was discreet. There was always a chance someone would spot him.

He picked the feline up and he gave a meow, very much telling Severus that the cat was allowing him to do so. He carried him and the various vials and potions into her bedroom.

"Your familiar, I presume?"

"Yes."

"What is his name?"

"Crookshanks."

"Nice to formally meet you, Crookshanks. As you already know, I am Severus Snape."

"Meow," he said.

Severus set the cat on the bed with her, hoping it would distract her from him collecting her blood. It sounded ghastly even to him, but he wasn't a fool. Virgin blood was sought after. Virgin blood of a witch shed by her soul mate was exceptionally rare. Up there with unicorn blood. (Not quite as rare, but definitely he could charge a good amount for potions with this blood used in them.)

"If you trust me," he said, before tending to that. "This is a potion for any discomfort or pain." She took the vial and removed the stopper without question. She sniffed, scrunched her nose a bit, but swallowed the potion.

"Thank you."

He scoffed. "It is the least I can do. I also have a salve that you can apply directly to any … areas you experience pain or discomfort."

"You just have these things?"

"I do. I worked rather closely with the school's healer, so while not a healer by trade, I am familiar enough with basics that I am always prepared. I carry muggle remedies, too."

She took the small jar of salve from him and regarded it. She set it on the stand next to her bed.

"Would you apply it later?"

He was about to point out that he didn't need to, when her meaning occurred to him. He was slow, ashamedly so, but he thought it was forgivable under the circumstances. Either way, she wanted him to apply it to her.

"If you'd like me to, of course."

"I think it'd be more fun if you did."

He knew he was blushing, and was fairly certain that parts of him twitched a bit at the idea of her wanting any part of him near her private womanly places again.

"I can attest to the fact that applying it to one's self is not fun."

She laughed then.

"So," he said, setting about his task. "Tell me why you did not attend Hogwarts. You're from London. You're magical. You received your letter, did you not?"

"I did. The summer of 1991. My parents researched. We went to Diagon Alley even. My parents were … concerned."

As they should have been, but he wondered what specifically alerted them that a muggleborn witch might not be welcomed with open arms at Hogwarts at that time.

"There were rumours of violence. They worked with a Madam McGonagall."

"Professor, but yes, I'm familiar with Minerva. She's currently headmistress, and I expect will be for a while yet."

"Oh, I just assumed. Presumptuous of me, isn't it? Headmistress. Really? She was very nice, so I shouldn't be surprised."

"Nonsense. You were eleven," and she likely hadn't given the witch any thought since then. "Go on."

"My parents asked if there were any private tutors, or ways for me to study on my own. They were very much in favor of my studying, just not at Hogwarts. She recommended someone she knew that had a small school near Derry Cross. We visited. I was accepted, and my parents thought that they'd feel better if I chose it instead of Hogwarts. They were incredibly good with all of it. Magic. Witchcraft. Finding out why I was different all of my life. So, it seemed silly to fight them about Hogwarts, when where they wanted to send me was still going to offer me the education I wanted. Then, while a student there, I read articles about everything going on as the war progressed, and was admittedly rather glad I wasn't at Hogwarts. Dementors and what not."

"Scary?"

"Well, sure, but no, that wasn't why." She smirked a bit at this he noticed. "I was grateful my studies weren't disrupted. And we were a very small school, there were fifty students at the most at any given time. Madam Docherty was selective."

Ah. He could admit he likely would have been perturbed at his studies being interrupted as well.

"I see."

"So, no quidditch. We had Physical Education time each week, obviously. As we were all muggleborn, she allowed us to do whatever we really wanted for entertainment. There were no organized teams or sports, but weekends you could find a group of students playing football or basketball."

"I believe Madam Docherty is a childhood friend of the headmistress'. I've heard the name before."

"It just dawned on me."

"What?" he said, casting a cleansing charm on her now that he was done.

"You're Severus Snape."

"We've already established that." He stood then, returning to the living area to place the vials in the briefcase before going back to her room.

"No, I never knew your last name until you said it to Crookshanks."

"Yes."

She laid down as he moved to join her on the bed once more.

She ran a fingertip over the longer scar along his face. He winced.

"Don't," she whispered.

"You'll forgive a man who does not look like you from being … insecure you will be turned off."

"Obviously, you know I'm not turned off by anything to do with you, Severus."

"Obviously," he drawled.

She continued following the path of the scar from scalp to eyebrow to cheek to jaw and finally to his lip.

"Is she dead?" she asked.

"Who?"

"I don't remember her name, but it was a witch who did this to you. I remember reading about the final battle in the paper."

"Bellatrix LeStrange was her name, and yes."

"I'm not sure if that's good or not."

"Why would it not be good? She was insane!" Merlin, the additional nightmares he'd likely be prone to having if she was still alive! He couldn't even imagine.

"Well, of course it's good, but I'd like to thank her."

"Whatever for?"

She leaned in then, kissing the same path along his face her finger had just traced. Kissing each spot. Dare he think it, lovingly.

"You're not in London or Cokeworth. If there had been no war. If this hadn't happened," she said, tracing the scar again. "You wouldn't be here."

"Valid."

"What was with the glowy eyes and stuff?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"You truly do not know?" he asked. He knew he sounded cautious. He wasn't sure how she'd react to this news.

"No."

"Take a guess."

"We didn't just get married, did we? I've been to a few magical weddings and there's a gold ribbon sometimes, but we didn't exchange vows or anything. And there was no officiant…"

He chuckled. Oh, she was quick.

"You're on the right track. We are soul mates. Some would say it's more binding than a marriage. Some would also say that it's deeper and more of a commitment than marriage."

"Mm, all that on a first date."

He snorted. "We didn't even have a date!"

"You drove me home."

"Hermione, that is not a date."

"Oh! You bought me a drink."

He leaned in then, kissing her and she moaned a bit, seemingly surprised but not in a bad way. At least it didn't sound bad to him. And she parted her lips, inviting him in. He accepted her unspoken invitation graciously, meeting the tip of her tongue with his.

"Will that happen again?" she murmured when they broke to take a breath.

"I do not know."

"Can we find out?"

He chuckled. "You are okay to do that again?"

"That? Make love to my soul mate, you mean? Yes, I think I'm okay with that."

"You are incredibly accepting of the fact that what I'm telling you is true."

"I knew there was something different about you the first time you walked into the pub, Severus. I have never accepted a drink or a ride home or anything from anyone."

"That is exceedingly good to know."

"Oh?"

"Again, good in a scuffle."

She tilted her head back and laughed.

"Now. I've said I want to again. Do you?"

"Yes."

"Can I help get you ready for that?" She reached between his legs then, touching him. He was very glad he'd been mindful enough to clean himself up before going to the living area earlier. "Oh, it seems I can."

"It would seem so."

The glowing eyes thing did not happen again. Severus wasn't sure if they were disappointed or not.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com