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Chapter Text

The night in Sorrento was starry.

The Gulf of Naples lay calm and sluggish; and if you listened closely, you could hear the soft, whispering sound of the waves.

Vesuvius sat majestically high on the horizon and offered an almost magical sight to the already enchanting Italian night sky.

Lovers romped happily on the streets, enjoying the balmy summer night.

Italian chants, from the radio or from slightly drunken wine lovers, sounded through the nights.

On the dark beach of Vico Equense, hidden behind a rock face and sealed off from prying eyes of tourists, sat a female figure. With her legs drawn up and her head resting on her knees, her large, clear eyes looked longingly out the sea.

If you happen to catch a glimpse of it, you might think that a local sculptor had dedicated a statue to this small bay.

With a deep sigh, Hermione Granger leaned back and felt the hard rock wall on her shoulders and head. Lost in thoughts, she buried her hands in the sand, still pleasantly warm, and let the fine grains slip between her fingers.

For a few moments, she enjoyed the tingling under her fingernails and the peaceful silence around her. A movement out of the corner of her eye made her head quickly turn to the side. A panicked expression flickered briefly in her brown eyes.

But then a gentle smile stole onto her lips and her heartbeat calmed down.

A tall, manly figure, dressed in dark linen trousers, stopped close to her and politely commanded her hand, which she gratefully and without hesitation took.

When Hermione stood safe and upright, the man brought her soft hand to his lips and gently left a kiss on it.

"Good evening, Hermione."

He looked at her kindly and smiled.

She swallowed with difficulty, trying to suppress the trembling in her voice.

"Good evening, Severus."

The war had clearly left its mark on Hermione, the scars - external as well as internal - would be an eternal memorial to what was probably the worst time of her very young life.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder." would probably be diagnosed by a sinfully expensive Muggle psychiatrist. As if she hadn't already figured that out herself.

Hermione had little desire for group conversations. How was she supposed to explain to non-wizards what she had gone through during the 2nd Wizarding War?

Even in St. Mungos - except by regularly taking the forgetfulness potion, which she strictly rejected - the healers there could not really help her.

Hermione didn't want to forget.

Too many people had died in this terrible war and sacrificed themselves to save lives.

She just wanted peace.

For almost four years, she had worked at the Ministry of Magic, campaigned for the rights of house elves and other magical beings.

But her real struggle began at her own front door. Every day she was confronted by some journalists, who celebrated her like a war heroine. By God, she was neither a celebrity nor a heroine.

She was just Hermione.

In the end, she pulled the ripcord.

There was no other way out for her.

Officially, she would travel to Australia for the ministry to research more about the magical creatures there.

"Only for a few months..." she had assured her friends with a small smile.

However, Ginny's sad look told her that she had been seen through by at least one person. She had always been a clever witch, Hermione thought proudly.

Ron hadn't understood the time separation at all. His manly pride was offended.

Her farewell had been downright cool, no hug, no kiss.

A future for both of them was thus a long way off.

Harry's brotherly embrace brought tears to Hermione's eyes after all.

"Send us an owl every now and then, Mine." Harry looked at her imploringly.

Hermione sighed and nodded silently.

One last look at her friends and the next moment she was apparated.

In fact, she hadn't even tried the truth.

Having to explain to them what it actually looked like inside her... They wouldn't understand. Her friends didn't have mental problems like Hermione or such difficulties in finding their way around again - quite the opposite.

Harry and Ron also worked in the Ministry of Magic and had successfully completed their 3-year Auror training. Ginny had finished her school education after the war had ended. Then she decided to become a professional Quidditch player.

Life for these three was normal, on the right track, so to speak.

Hermione, however, was stuck in a dead end and couldn't find a way to turn around.

So she did the only right thing for her: she fled.

Emigrating to Sorrento in Italy - specifically to Vico Equense - was not born out of a crazy idea. After all, she was less known for spontaneous things.

Everyone knew that Hermione was thinking far ahead. She thought precisely, planned skillfully, weighed up all the pros and cons before making a hasty decision.

However, what no one knew, or even suspected: She was keeping a deadly secret.

Chapter Text

Losses.

So many losses of people, including students, teachers, Death Eaters and Muggles.

Many of the wizards on Dumbledor's side were solemnly buried, the bodies of the Muggles (or what was left of them) left to their relatives.

In the end, everyone had found their peace.

All - except one.

Hermione stole away slowly and unseen.

Hogwarts was in ruins and many healers were still caring for the numerous wounded. The rest celebrated the victory over Voldemort exuberantly. She heard her friends celebrating, yet she didn't feel like it. There were so many dead to mourn, including Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin and Tonks. "Poor Teddy..."

Hermione didn't understand the world any more.

With hot tears in her eyes, she turned and ran away, only one goal in mind: Hogsmeade.

Dark and terrifying, the shriecking shack loomed before her.

Nothing moved, even the outside world had fallen silent.

As she approached with slow steps, all the hairs on Hermione's neck stood up.

Casting a last glance over her shoulder, she stepped cautiously over the threshold and into the dark interior.

Hermione's ears cracked and she felt her heartbeat quicken.

There was a strong smell of must; moist and earthy. And of blood.

Her stomach turned upside down and she felt hot bile shoot up. She forced herself to calm down and breathed slowly but steadily. The nausea disappeared after a few moments, but the fear remained. Only slowly did her eyes get used to the darkness and more than once she stumbled over her own feet in a less than ladylike manner.

But apart from the rumbling of her own feet, she heard no sounds.

But something was....different.

Hermione clearly felt the pressure on her head, a gentle vibration on her hands. A magical presence.

Very weak, but strong enough to steer it in a concrete direction. The smell of blood intensified. She fought bravely against the recurring nausea.

And then she saw him.

He was still leaning against the window frame where Harry and she had left him, thinking he was dead. And indeed, at first glance, some could think that Severus Snape had died.

With his eyes closed, his pale skin and the vast amounts of blood that had collected from his carotid artery down over his clothes and around him to form a large puddle, he looked - realistically - dead as a mouse.

But Hermione knew better, of course. She had immediately seen the empty vial that might have slipped out of his hand. Carefully she overcame the last few meters and got down on her knees in front of him, grabbed the narrow glass and smelled it. She had not been mistaken.

Stunned, she looked at his face.

"You knew it...." she whispered in dismay, and looked hastily down at herself.

She nimbly brought her wand to the surface and let it glide carefully over the professor. Hermione had watched Madam Pomfrey long enough to learn the right spells to heal injuries.

"Vulnera Sanentur." Fascinated, she noticed how the ugly flesh wound that Nagini's bite had caused on Severus' neck finally closed.

Severus' eyelids fluttered.

With difficulty he opened his eyes and straightened up a little.

Groaning, he fell backwards again.

"Professor Snape?" Slowly, Hermione moved into his field of vision.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Granger, what the hell are you doing here?!"

His voice sounded rough and even darker than usual.

Hermione trembled, ignored his question. "Professor, are you okay? Are you in pain?"

He hesitated.

"No." he finally stated and looked down at himself in surprise.

She handed him the vial. "The blood-forming potion seems to have worked..."

"Did you expect anything else?" Severus hissed at her. Then he fell silent abruptly.

He pushed back the sleeve of his left arm energetically, staring stunned at the pale skin. On which the Dark mark should actually be visible. But it was gone. Just like his power.

Severus raised his head, his eyes searching hers.

"The dark lord...?" he whispered and his hands clenched in fear.

Hermione's heart raged in her chest. "Voldemort is dead..." she whispered choked.

Severus' gaze blurred. He nodded absently.

Then the professor collapsed, his body trembled and a violent sob escaped his throat, shaking his gaunt body.

Her heart broke.

Hermione let herself fall silently next to him, ignored all the blood and caught him.

Brought her body closer to his. His arms encircled her and held her tight.

And then they both cried.

Chapter Text

When Hermione reappeared with a loud "PLOP", she was not standing somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Australia, but outside the shrieking shack in Hogsmeade. She embraced the building with a single glance. Then she went inside.

Without stumbling once, she went back to the place where she had once found the Potions Professor, four years earlier.

Four long, damn years.

**Four years earlier**

The tears had dried, the sobs had subsided.

Hermione leaned against the wall next to the Potions Master – at a distance, but close enough to feel his body heat.

Her eyes wandered aimlessly in the darkness of the shack.

She heard him take a deep breath and shuddered, anxious at the next words. Would he chase her away now that all the masks had fallen and she had seen him so vulnerable?

"Hermione..." Severus gently begged and she looked up surprised, no, stunned by the sudden familiarity between them.

Dark, sad eyes met brown, open eyes.

His voice was low, pleading. "Tell me everything..."

And Hermione complied with his request.

The words literally bubbled out of her. She reported about the final battle, the fall of Voldemort, the struggles and losses of so many talented, good wizards.

Severus didn't interrupt her once, only a panicked look flitted across his face for a moment when she told of Nagini's death.

And when she finally revealed what Harry had seen in the Pensieve and revealed to everyone, his eyes closed in pain.

Finally, she broke the awkward silence. "What are you going to do now?"

His soft, joyless laugh made her shiver.

"I have... not the slightest idea."

She looked sadly at the man next to her. The man he once was, the man he had to be, for Voldemort and for Dumbledore. He was only a pitiful shadow of himself, the man of the past had disappeared irretrievably with the bite of Nagini.

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. Was he able to hear it?

"You're a hero, Severus."

Hermione swallowed as he shook his head vigorously. "I'm a coward..."

A bitter smile flitted across his face. „... and it would have been better if you had let me die here."

"Shut up!"

Hermione breathed in in shock. She hadn't intended to yell at him.

He stared at her. Not angry or furios. Just rather surprised.

"Many of my friends, schoolmates and teachers are dead, Severus. And if it hadn't been for you, there would be many more." She didn't know where she suddenly got the courage to say these words to his face. For a brief moment, he seemed stunned.

Her eyes were on his. "You risked your life to save us all. The least I could do was help you."

He swallowed and finally turned his gaze. "I have not deserved this….help."

He rose slowly, looked down at her. And without a word he held out a hand.

Hermione hesitated only for a moment, then her hand slipped into his as a matter of course. He helped her up, didn't let her out of his sight. And not going on either.

He looked at her thoughtfully and Hermione's heart began to beat frantically.

"Would you like me to make you a promise?"

"I'm afraid your promise – as honest as it may be – will unfortunately not be enough. If someone were to find out that I was still alive, it would... have serious consequences."

She guessed what he couldn't say, what he didn't want to say.

Severus continued.

"You know the meaning of the unbreakable oath?" His deep voice was lurking, cautious. Hermione listened attentively. "I... I've already heard vaguely about it."

"Would you be willing to make this oath to me? Knowing, should you break it - willingly or not - you will pay for it with your life?"

Hermione took a sharp breath. Hesitated. His gaze sharpened, his eyebrows twitched.

Only when she nodded slowly did the tension visibly ease in his shoulders.

Severus pulled her to him, her hands together. "Take your wand."

She obeyed and held him up.

"Hermione..." He breathed in trembling. "Do you swear that you won't tell anyone that you found me alive?"

She nodded and said clearly. "Yes, I swear."

A white, fine thread spun from the tip of her wand, wrapped their intertwined hands. She felt a hot pain around her fingers. Then the light was extinguished. And Severus finally released her.

She looked at him questioningly. "What now?"

He grinned crookedly and something fluttered into Hermione's heart.

"Now... I need a vacation."

**PRESENT**

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and looked down, smiled.

On the ground in front of her lay the small, empty vial - carefree, a little dusty but not broken. She reached into her cloak and slowly removed her wand. She twisted and turned it thoughtfully in her hands. Swallowed hard, once, twice.

Then she took both ends in her hand and – with little effort – broke it into two pieces. Her eyes burned and Hermione allowed the tears to overflow.

She dropped the now useless wood to the floor, gave both parts a little kick to disappear into a dark corner of the room. Then she bent down and carefully took the vial in her hand.

Hermione felt the familiar pulling near her belly button area.

Then she teleported as the portkey activated.

Chapter Text

Above all else, at this time of year Saiano was one thing : hot.

The Italian sun wasn't shining – no, it was burning.

And it burned Hermione's pale, delicate, English skin within minutes. She cursed herself for the thousandth time for not having dressed appropriately for the weather and for not having taken the necessary precautions.

For hours, she had been trying unsuccessfully to make her way through the sparsely populated Vico Equense with her non-existent Italian.

With a clear goal in mind: the local pharmacy.

On the one hand, she really needed a cooling lotion for what was probably the worst sunburn of her life. On the other hand, she wanted to go to th is very pharmacist, who - strictly speaking - wasn’t one.

But a practicing potions master would probably only cause uncomprehending looks.

As Hermione turned into a narrow alley covered with old cobblestones, she saw a small, fine house not far in front of her. A green cross was emblazoned just under a metre above the entrance door. The Italian symbol for pharmacy.

Her heart made a joyfully nervous leap in her chest and she increased her pace.

A few meters before her destination, she finally stopped abruptly.

"CHIUSO" was written in large letters on the sign, which had been clearly visible on the inside of the glass door. Hermione didn't have to understand Italian to know that this meant closed.

To be on the safe side, she shook the doorknob. But indeed, the pharmacy was not open .

Hermione lowered her head to the cool glass and slid to the floor.

She was close to tears.

What would she give now for a glass of water, a cool breeze, a bathtub full of ice cubes. Something to drive the heat out of her head and body.

Footsteps slowly approached her and a large shadow fell over her, shielding her from the sweltering hot sun for a moment.

Hermione looked up in surprise and into two dark eyes that glared at her mockingly.

" And here she is. My personal disastro ..."

She would have recognized the deep baritone every where.

Hermione smiled shakily and rose wobbly. "It's nice to see you too, Severus."

The pharmacy was pleasantly cool inside and smelled discreetly of herbs. The scent calmed down in a pleasant way. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Wait here."

Severus disappeared behind the counter and began to rummage through some boxes. She used the time to inspect the shop unabashedly. All kinds of medicines and ointments in brown jars, various teas and other medical knick-knacks, which the local Muggles probably literally snatched out of his hands, were waiting to be put away. The almost empty shelves and full boxes piled up on the walls spoke volumes.

"Business is going well, I see?" Hermione inquired formally and watched the people who happily walked past the pharmacy and took a look at the shop from time to time.

The sign still hung unchanged on the front door.

"Amazingly good. I don't seem to have forgotten the craft." His deep voice sounded close behind her and Hermione turned around hastily.

He held a small, brown jar in front of her nose. "So that you don't peel the skin off your body tonight."

She smiled gratefully at him. And looked at him closely for the first time.

Severus had changed.

His skin was no longer pale, but had taken on a healthy, brown color. He was still clearly slim, but he didn't look nearly as skinny anymore. His hair was a little shorter and looked less greasy than it was when she was at school. He looked more alive, younger.

And his deep worry lines had completely disappeared.

"Staring is rude," he remarked pointedly.

Hermione grinned in surprise and shrugged her shoulders apologetically.

"You just look....so different."

Handsome, healthy, happy.

Those were actually the words that came to Hermione's mind first.

"If that's a compliment, you'll need to practice more Gryffindor," he grumbled. Then, after his brief examination on her part. "By the way, you look terrible."

He turned up his nose demonstratively.

Hermione grinned crookedly. "Excuse me, please. But it's just too hot..."

"Anyone with common sense is not on the road at this time of day, but allows himself a break..." He watched the small crowd outside. "The shops do not open again until late afternoon."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Truly a healthy concept."

Severus shook his head. "How you were able to survive the war is a mystery to me..."

He turned away.

"Come with me. I'll take you up to my flat , where you can take a shower. And then I'll show you around. There's a nice little boutique around the corner where you're sure to find something suitable for the hot weather."

Hermione followed him quickly.

"Severus, I've packed a lot of galleons and sickles. But I'm not sure if I can pay anything with this currency," she confessed quietly.

"Don't break your smart Gryffindor head over that."

He turned to her on the stairs and looked at her. "I owe you something, Hermione. And the little money for the few clothes won’t make me poor."

She smiled gratefully at him. "It's really nice to see you, Severus."

He just rolled his eyes in annoyance.

As Hermione later found out with surprise, Severus had made a real name for himself over the years. He is not only considered an excellent pharmacist, but was also - with his enormous knowledge of wine - a welcome guest among the regional winegrowers.

Many of the locals recognized and greeted him friendly on the street, often inviting him to eat and drink in their homes.

One or the other father had sometimes introduced him to his single daughter for marriage, which Severus mentioned one evening with an embarrassed expression over a cup of espresso. Hermione had spat the milk foam of her cappuccino in his direction, right in his face, out of sheer laughter. This led to Severus not telling anything more about his "love life" and he avoided enjoying a cup of coffee with Hermione.

A doctor friend rented Hermione a small uninhabited bungalow, which was old but well furnished. The little Italian house was not far from the sea, so that she woke up every day with the sound of the waves and fell asleep in the evening with the gentle sounds of the water.

In order to be able to pay the low rent of the house, she helped out for a few days in its premises: taking care of patients, practice organization, correspondence and documentation. The remaining days Hermione worked in the small but fine village library.

And before she knew it, a month had passed.

"I see you brought me a gift." She sneered at him cheekily and looked at the bottle of wine he held in his hand.

He grinned. "I promised you a bottle of my favorite wine..." Severus' gaze darkened for a moment. ".. and as you know, I keep my promises."

He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "Please forgive me. Sometimes melancholy just overcomes me..."

Hermione guessed what he meant. And she knew only too well how he must feel.

"You don't have to apologize to me, Severus."

He cleared his throat softly. "I have to apologize for a lot of things, Hermione..."

"Please stop..." Only a tired look hit him.

Hermione snatched the already uncorked bottle from his hands and hesitated.

She looked at him questioningly.

"You didn't think of glasses by any chance?"

"No. I'm more of a practical person." He took the bottle from her, put the wine to his lips and drank a large sip. Then he held it out to her offensively.

Hermione hesitated and his gaze darkened, belligerent. "I'm not poisonous..."

"I'm not so sure about that..." She winked sweetly at him before taking a strong sip from the bottle as well.

Severus waited patiently. "I hope the taste meets approval...?"

"Hm, I'd say..." Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "... 10 points for Slytherin." He laughed out loud and her heart leaped proudly in her chest.

She looked thoughtfully at the dark green bottle with the eye-catching, red label called "Villa Ermes".

"What does Ermes mean?" she looked questioningly at Severus.

"Ermes is the Italian name for Hermes, the messenger of the gods. And as you surely know, in Greek mythology, Hermes is the protector of shepherds, merchants and..."

„... travelers..." Hermione smiled softly.

Severus smiled. "Yes, travelers... and thieves."

She chuckled happily and turned the bottle around. "It's a shame that I still know so little Italian..."

"You're young, Hermione. And you learn quickly. I'm sure you'll master the language almost perfectly within a few months."

She felt her cheeks reddening and tried to cover up the situation: "Now listen to that. A compliment from you. This night is full of wonders..."

Severus laughed softly. Then he suddenly became serious.

"Let's enjoy this wine before you disappear back into dreary Britain."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "I'm definitely not going back. I love it here in Saiano."

He noticed with a fine smile that the war had not been able to take away her fiery temperament.

She continued to rave. "The sunny hot weather, the landscape, the art and culture. In general, the history here is simply too beautiful to want to miss it. And this wonderful food..." She sighed with pleasure. „... I would be a complete idiot to return."

"And what about the wine?"

Hermione grinned. "In Vino Veritas, isn't it? Where did you buy it again?"

His eyes sparkled mysteriously. "Strictly speaking, I didn't buy it."

"Stolen, then?" Hermione grinned cheekily. "Are you a thief, Severus Snape?"

He laughed again, but then shook his head. "I happen to know the winemaker... personally. And he gave me a few bottles, said the variety was new and still had to be tested extensively."

"But that's really too bad. The wine would go so well with my pasta..." Hermione sighed in agony.

Severus looked at her closely and finally cleared his throat. "Well, of course I would like to send you a bottle of this wine..."

„... and what's the catch? You Slytherins can't be trusted...."

"That you would even remotely think such a terrible thing of me....!" He eyed her with feigned torture.

Hermione tried to suppress a laugh, but failed miserably. "Okay, get it out. What do I have to do to be able to call this valuable bottle my own?"

Confident of victory, he grinned at her. "You bring the pasta, I bring the wine."

"That sounds a lot like a date, Severus." Hermione noticed in amazement how his cheeks turned slightly red.

"How about a nice dinner between two good friends?" he finally asked quietly. Hermione smiled encouragingly. "Whatever it should be. You had me with wine."

She giggled again.

"I'm relieved," Severus spoke softly and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. This time it was Hermione's turn to blush.

She quickly changed the subject. "Do you actually want to go back?"

He merely raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Back to Hogwarts, I mean..." she added quickly.

He froze and dropped his hand.

Severus turned his gaze back to the sea, took a deep breath.

“I'm in my early 40s, Hermione. I will certainly not return to the country where I served a madman for over 20 years." He was bitterly silent.

Hermione feared that the playful mood would change, but then Severus smiled at her crookedly.

"I feel... safe here. I haven't felt that for a long time. And who knows, maybe one day I'll start a family. But return to Hogwarts.." he swallowed hard. „... is an impossibility."

Hermione blinked perplexed. "You want to start a family?"

Her question sounded so irritating that Severus looked at her in surprise. "Do you think I'd better not do that?"

She turned flaming red. "For Merlin's sake, that's not what I meant!"

He waited for an explanation and she did not disappoint him. "Is there anyone in your life with whom you plan your future?"

Severus smiled mysteriously at her. "Hermione Granger, don't you think you're snooping too deeply into my privacy?"

She swallowed hard, cursed her curiosity. "Please forgive me, Severus, I didn't mean to be intrusive."

But he surprised her. "And what if there is someone?"

His deep baritone sent a shiver down her spine. But Hermione's heart contracted painfully at these words. Even Severus had found someone with whom he was apparently happy enough to plan a future. Why didn't she succeed in doing the same? Why was she so messed up, damn it?!

"Then of course I'm happy for you," she answered in all honesty. She looked at him gently, but couldn't prevent tears from welling up in her eyes.

Severus was taken aback. "Hermione..."

He reached out to her, but she moved away from him.

"I'm sorry." She turned away quickly. "It's late and I'm tired."

Even before Severus could start to reply, she had rushed past him frantically and disappeared into the darkness of the night the next moment.

He stayed behind confused.

When he returned to their common meeting place the next evening – as he had done the evenings before – there was no trace of Hermione.

He waited, but she did not come.

And Severus Snape wondered if he had just ruined his future.

Chapter Text

Hermione looked longingly at the gentle play of the waves of the sea.

She stood with bare feet in the cold water, the spray played around her ankles and enjoyed the last hours in Vico.

She had made a bitter decision. She would leave Italy, today.

She didn't know where she would travel. But she couldn't stay here any longer.

The evening a few days ago had opened her eyes. She had to leave, even if that would mean never seeing Severus again. At this thought, her heart contracted painfully.

For a brief moment, Hermione – naive as she was – had actually thought that she could be happy here in Italy, and maybe even at his side. That she could forget the terrible events and look forward to a sunny future – with him.

Of course, it had never occurred to her that he had long since moved on and already had the right partner by his side.

She looked lazily into the dark water in front of her.

If only she could be a fish and dive into the cold sea in which she would feel nothing; no fears, no grief, no suffering.

It would just swim, eat, and perhaps—one fine day—be eaten as a delicious main course by a fat tourist who would wash it down his huge stomach with floral white wine.

Hermione shook herself.

She hastily turned away, got out of the water and slowly trudged back to the bay.

Still deep in her morbid thoughts, she almost collided with the man who suddenly appeared in front of her out of nowhere and blocked the way.

Startled, she looked up.

And in Severus' grim face.

"And I had already assumed that you would have left without a word of farewell, Granger..."

Hermione turned pale. Oh Merlin, how much she hated that horrible tone.

"But as I see, you could at least say goodbye to your beloved sea. You don't seem to care about anything else."

She slowly raised her hand and placed it on his arm. "Severus..."

He shook her off angrily. "Only my friends call me by my first name."

Hermione took a hissing breath. She felt as if he had slapped her in the face.

He looked at her in disappointment. "You would actually have left without a word. Is that what friends do?"

When she tried to open her mouth, he raised his hand threateningly.

"And don't lie to me, girl. I won't hesitate for a second to use occlumency on you."

She couldn't hold back the tears. "It... I'm sorry."

"What exactly are you sorry for?" She hated the scowl from his beautiful black eyes. "That you behaved like a stupid little schoolgirl instead of the clever witch you actually are?"

She grimaced in pain, but endured the rant.

Hermione knew that she had more than earned it.

"Or that you come to some absurd speculations and assumptions and make up some fantasy?"

Her heart stumbled an unhealthy rhythm and Hermione struggled to breathe. With her head bowed and her hands clenched into fists, she stood before him. Like the little schoolgirl she once was.

Severus snorted disapprovingly.

"You never had any trouble asking the right questions, Hermione. Or did you leave your brain behind in Britain as well?"

Severus felt tired. He was getting old.

Hermione was still silent.

"And your eyes still work perfectly? Or have you seen me exchanging intimacies with some women in all that time?"

She looked up, just shrugged her shoulders casually.

He closed his eyes in resignation. "For Merlin's eggs. And you want to be the smartest witch of your generation." He turned away, shaking his head.

"Severus, wait!" Hermione hurriedly ran after him, grabbed him by the hand, forced him to turn back. "Don't run away, please..." Her voice broke.

Severus looked at her hand, which seemed so fragile in his. Lost in thought, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the soft, slender fingers.

Hermione trembled under the touch.

"Has it really never occurred to you that you are that someone?" his deep voice sounded hesitantly. His eyes darted over her face. "Was I so unclear about my feelings towards you?"

Her head was spinning. "But... I'm just your student..."

"As far as I remember correctly, you were my student," he murmured. Carefully he pulled her closer, giving her enough room to maneuver. Hermione didn't resist.

He looked at her tenderly, gently embracing her face. "You're the reason I'm still alive..."

Hermione sobbed loudly. "But I'm broken, Severus…"

He pressed her trembling body tightly against his, stroked her back reassuringly. "You're not broken, Hermione." He buried his face in her hair, took a deep breath. "You and I, we have experienced a traumatic event. We have to live with it, we just can't perish from it..."

He was right.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, buried her head at the crook of his neck. Dazed, she felt his racing heartbeat. He was just as nervous as she was.

She took a deep breath. He smelled of the herbs in his apothecary; Fresh, spicy, slightly floral. A scent that she had learned to love in the meantime. A scent that had always calmed her.

Just like now at this moment.

"Hermione..."

She slowly raised her head. She looked up. Grasped the truth in his eyes.

A narrow, cautious, shaky smile crept into her face. "You saved my life too, Severus." He blinked at her in confusion.

"The unbreakable oath..."

Severus visibly stiffened. "What about it?"

Her voice lowered. "I wanted to break it... ..."

"You wanted..." He seemed visibly shocked.

„... to end it, yes." she whispered. "For a brief, faint moment, I thought about telling anyone that you're not dead." She swallowed. "But... In the end, I couldn't do it."

He blinked. "Why?"

Her eyes burned deep into his. "Because of you. I wanted to see you again. I wanted..." She broke off, blushed.

Severus carefully lifted her head. "You wanted what?"

Hermione stared at him motionlessly.

"You," she revealed breathlessly. "I wanted you."

His eyes sparkled, his grip on her tightened.

And then he pulled her to him, lowered his head. Finally put his lips on hers and kissed her.

When they separated from each other a little later, Severus looked down at her in silence.

He seemed thoughtful.

Hermione frowned. "What's going on?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "I'm afraid I have to make a confession."

Her frown deepened, but her curiosity was aroused. "Severus, what..."

He put his finger on her mouth. "Listen to me carefully now and don't do any... thoughtless things."

She nodded.

He was panting." The Unbreakable Oath....was, strictly speaking, not an unbreakable oath."

He waited for her reaction, but she just looked at him waiting.

Severus grinned crookedly. "You said at the time that you only had a vague idea about it and I... I've fibbed at you a bit. Because for an unbreakable oath you need three wizards instead of two."

Hermione raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What is the task of the third one?"

Inquisitive as ever.

"The third wizard is the neutral person to whom the unbreakable oath is recited. With the help of his wand, the spell is cast. Only then will the pact be sealed and binding."

Hermione nodded slowly, understanding. "That means..."

„... we do not have a binding pact. And the whole spectacle was really just that: a spectacle, a trick." Severus agreed.

He sighed. "I didn't want to fool you. I just wanted to show you the seriousness of the situation...."

For a moment there was a tense silence.

Then Hermione shook her head reproachfully. "Severus Snape. I don't know whether to hit or kiss you."

"I would prefer the latter, to be honest."

There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Then she punched him firmly on the right shoulder. "That's for lying to me."

He grimaced in play, tortured.

Hermione stood on her tiptoes and put her hands on his shoulders. "And that's for telling me the truth."

Then she kissed him.

Not tender or gentle, but demanding. Requiring.

Severus embraced her, returning her kiss with the intensity of a drowning man who needed air to breathe.

And slowly, noticeably, not alone, but together, their wounds began to heal.

They both felt it, deep inside.

Secure, protected, safe.

It felt like coming home.