The days passed along with weeks and still the antidote was non-existent. In the first few days after being accepted to assist Professor Snape, Hermione had accompanied him deep into the Forbidden Forrest to gather rare ingredients that he theorized might be of use to them. He had been cantankerous to be sure; he hardly ever spoke to her unless to issue an order of some kind, or to request she pass the Thyme or Hawthorn to him from across his private work space in the dungeons.

The dreams, along with the nightmares, had also not ceased in the slightest. Most nights, Hermione would wake up breathing heavily, her sheets wound up around her legs from where she had kicked and thrashed, trying to run from Bellatrix Lestrange. She had several different nightmares, but they were always the same every time. Bellatrix, the glint in her eyes more than pure insanity, threw dark curses at her one after the other. Hermione ran, but her legs barely allowed her to move forward nor did the expanse of dark trees on either side vanish from her sight. It was as though she ran through an endless tunnel, helpless to the gaining of her pursuer.

There was one where she certainly fared better against her attacker, but woke up screaming Ron's name as his body hurdled from the sky. He would land lifeless before her just as she would wake up, drenched in a mixture of sweat and tears. Sometimes she dreamed of Lucius Malfoy's face, his revolting breath inches from her own, making her skin crawl.

And then there were the dreams that she could not classify as nightmares, nor could she explain them. Unlike the nightmares, these, while they were recurring in subject and nature, were never the same scene. The constant in them was a silhouetted figure of a man whose face she could not see and whose voice she couldn't hear. She dreamed of him whenever she would fall back to sleep after a nightmare; Hermione felt calm and secure in his presence and she was sure that were it not for these peaceful visions in her slumber, the nightmares would have driven her into madness long ago.

Harry—still grieving for the loss of their friend—quietly pointed out that it was probably Ron who so often graced her dreams. But Hermione somehow knew that the mysterious figure in her dreams was not Ron Weasley. It simply couldn't be. This man was forbidding and dark, his demeanor reminding her of Professor Snape in some ways, although she dismissed that thought the first time it came into her head; whoever this was, it was not her sarcastic, horrible former Potions Master. Aside from the resemblance in poise, the dark man that visited her in sleep showed a completely unrestrained love for her.

In the dreams, they spoke no words but his large, gentle hand would touch her face, caress it; his strong arms would encircle her, holding her close to his warmth. There was tender compassion in his actions, none like she had ever felt before.

Had she?

The notion that these were her real memories breaking through her subconscious while she slept had not escaped her attention. In fact, in some ways, Hermione looked forward to sleeping in case her dreams would tell all that she had forgotten as a result of the potion.

The potion.

Snape's potion.

And each failed trial of the antidote pushed Hermione farther into despair of never regaining her true memory.

"I would certainly think you're at least grateful that your entire memory hadn't been wiped out, Miss Granger," Snape bit out at her one day when she was especially downcast after their tenth batch of test-potion was vanished from sight with a quick wave of his wand.

She glared up at him, silently commanding her tears to stay back until she was alone. "Of course I'm grateful," she snapped. "However, I hardly think that being disappointed is something to be held against me!"

She waited for him to retort, but got no such reaction, except for a muttered "indeed" and so finally, she got up from her stool across the work station from him and all but stomped out of the door.

Hermione noticed that while he was in many ways just as she remembered him, Snape was far more lenient with her than he should have been. She had long since ceased tagging a sir or professor on to the end of every sentence that she addressed him with, and he had never once tried to correct or reprimand her for it. It wasn't as if she was trying to be stubborn or rebellious, but Hermione had noticed that whenever she would use either of the terms when she spoke to him, he would always give her the strangest look, like he was remembering something particularly painful or unhappy. The look unsettled her somewhat and so she had decided to eliminate the trigger. Now he certainly didn't look at her strangely, nor did he really look at her at all. It was most aggravating to Hermione, especially when she was trying to make conversation with him over notes on the antidote potion.

Severus was in no better mood.

He went back to his old habits; he barely slept and took up stalking the halls at night full-time once again. Every thought, every feeling revolved around trying to make the antidote work. He wanted her memories back as much as Hermione did.

He wanted the woman he loved to come back to him.

What a sentimental fool he had turned out to be.

"What about dragon's blood?" Hermione asked, looking up from her notes in the potions lab one afternoon.

"What about it, Miss Granger?" he muttered. Hermione noted how he kept his head bent over his own work. He sounded distracted, as if he had not really heard or registered her question at all.

With an internal sigh, she turned her book around and pushed it across the work bench. "Dragon's blood trees," she explained. "The sap has been proven to aid in the treatment of memory loss."

Severus continued making notes alongside the text he had been – probably still was – reading. "I am well aware of the properties of dragon's blood, Miss Granger," he drawled without stilling his hand on the parchment before him or looking up.

Becoming frustrated, she pushed on. "Then perhaps it's worth adding to our trials. If you'll read the footnote just there," she reached out and gave the book another nudge in his direction, "you'll see how effective it can be when you – "

"And tell me, Miss Granger, which one of us will be traipsing off to the middle of the Indian Ocean in order to locate it?" He sneered, finally turning his harsh gaze to her. "Besides, if you would have done more than skim the page, you would have seen that dragon's blood did at one time aid in treatments of memory loss; however, its properties are now more concurrent," he shoved the book back across the table at her as if to reinforce his point, "with the production of toothpaste."

"Alright," she said carefully, gritting her teeth as she tried to keep her patience. "We're just missing something, I'm sure of it. What about Rosemary or Ginseng? They're both fairly common and more easily obtained…and what is it now?" She asked when she noticed he was just sitting there, shaking his head while she spoke.

"We can put all of the ingredients for a home-made memory potion in the world together, Miss Granger, it isn't going to bring your memory back," he drawled. "If you want to try Ginseng or Rosemary, I suggest putting them in your afternoon tea."

"That's it! Why don't you tell me what you would like me to look for, Professor, and I'll make a more enhanced effort as clearly, I'm not trying hard enough!"

"I hardly think you need me to babysit you while you research –"

"No, you're right. You're just here to shoot down every single idea I come up with!"

They were staring each other down across the table now; Hermione was furious at his flippancy and was about to continue with a barrage of colorful verbiage in his general direction when the door to the lab opened and Draco Malfoy's face appeared in the entryway.

"What are you two on about in here?" he asked, taking a few steps into the room. "I can hear you halfway across the bloody dungeon!"

"Language, Mr. Malfoy," Severus ground out, but Draco ignored him and nodded in Hermione's direction.

"No luck yet, Granger?"

Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate when she realized he seemed to be speaking genuinely and closed it again while she began to shove notes back into her knapsack, ready to be as far away from Snape and the dungeon as possible.

Severus had resumed his seat and was jotting notes again, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that she was leaving. Once Hermione had shoved the last offending book into her pack with more force than necessary and had taken a few angry strides in the direction of the door, he finally spoke: "I don't recall telling you we were finished, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes once again fixated to the parchment in front of him.

She turned on him in a split second, spinning around so quickly that her backpack collided with Draco's shoulder. "No," she fumed, "you don't get to do that. This is not detention or your classroom or some after-school study session, and you do not have any authority to keep me here. I'm not sure if it has escaped your notice, but you are not the one who's missing half of her bloody memories here. You're also not the one who had some experimental sludge poured down her throat…oh! And let's not forget the part where you won't do a damn thing except sit there and stomp on every possible solution I try to come up with. You didn't want me to help work on a potion that might fix me – well congratulations, you got your wish: consider this my official, verbal resignation! Now if you'll excuse me, Professor, yes, I will be taking my leave now."

With that, she shoved back her feral hair, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the room before Severus could even respond.

Minerva was headed in the direction of Severus' private labs when she rounded a corner and was nearly bowled over by a blurry-eyed Hermione Granger. "My dear! What is it?" Minerva exclaimed, but the younger witch didn't stop. "Hermione!" she called after her, but Hermione rounded another dark corner and was gone from sight. Shaking her head, Minerva sighed and continued to her destination. "What have you done, Severus?" she muttered.

Minerva was barely in the door of the lab before she opened her mouth. "Would you care to explain to me why Hermione Granger was just fleeing the dungeon in tears, Severus?"

Severus glared at her from where he stood, leaning with both palms flat on his work table, responding with a low, frustrated growl that would send any first year scurrying from his presence.

"Oh, I can answer that, Professor." Draco raised his hand in the air mockingly and turned to the new Headmistress. "He's a right nasty git. And he can't bear the fact that magic has failed him, so he's taking it out on the women he supposedly loves – is that about right?"

McGonagall barely had time to react before Severus got around the table, lunging at Draco. "How dare you," he growled. Minerva stood between them, her wand trained on Severus, but Draco stood his ground, glaring at the other man.

"How dare I what? Tell the truth? Just what are you afraid of?" Draco continued to stand firmly in his place, even as he watched Severus openly seething before him – especially as Draco's words hinted at cowardice. "You could tell her, you know." Severus gave a snort of obvious disagreement. "Are you afraid that you'll never find a solution, that you will always live with that regret…or that you'll have to watch her fall in love with someone else? Or maybe you're just afraid that when she gets her memory back, she'll take one look at you and go running for the hills!"

At that, Severus lunged for Draco again and Draco, finally, took a few steps backwards though he did not lose the steel in his expression.

Minerva finally put her foot down. "That is quite enough, both of you!" She jabbed her wand into Severus' chest and fixed him with a stern glare that made him feel as though he was being scolded for being out past curfew.

"Mr. Malfoy, go and find Miss Granger, see if you can calm her down." Draco gave a curt nod and swiftly left the lab without another word.

"You must be joking – "

"I am not." She poked her wand at his chest again. "And if you so much as step another inch towards that door, so help me, Severus, you will not enjoy what I transfigure you into. Are we clear?"

"Threatening your employees, Minerva?"

Pointedly ignoring him, she went on with her speech. "Now, I know you are frustrated. I understand how difficult this is, but why are you pushing her away – especially when she's searching just as hard for a solution?"

"You understand? You understand nothing, Minerva." Severus fought to control his temper, but his patience was slipping quickly. "There is no way to bring her back. The damage is irreversible. So to hell with patience and seeing the bright side; there is no bright side. She's gone."

"She's right here in front of you, Severus. She is healthy and alive. She fell in love with you once – with, might I remind you, the same mentality she has now – what's to say you can't do it again?"

Severus rolled his eyes and sneered. "Ah, yes. With my charm, romantic wit, and devastating good looks? However did I fail to think of this brilliant plan before?"

"Oh, for goodness sake," Minerva sighed and stepped closer to put a hand on his shoulder. "She saw all of that in you before…have you changed? She may not remember the way she feels about you, but if she felt it once…" She shook her head. "Severus, you cannot give up hope because one solution has failed you." She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and dropping her hand, turned for the door.

"And Severus?" Minerva paused in the doorway and peered at him over the top of her glasses. "Do apologize, hmm?"

Severus was pacing in his lab long after Minerva had left him to his thoughts. He was angry. Angry at himself, at Minerva, at Draco. Though loathe as he was to admit it, he was not angry with her. They were no closer to finding a reversal potion and Hermione was inherently stubborn when it came to matters such as these. She would not give up quite so easily. He didn't want her to. But Draco, the little prat…he was right about one thing: Severus was afraid.

Foregoing lunch, he stalked back to his quarters above the Head's office. Severus had a feeling he wouldn't be able to stay there much longer; even if Minerva insisted, he knew the castle had a mind of its own – especially when it came to the wards on the Head's office. And he was no longer the Headmaster of this school. But Draco adamantly requested to continue living in his secret room down below and Severus had not been able to turn him down. Not after everything the boy had suffered these last months. Although after that display downstairs…

He stopped once he had passed through the empty office and stood silently in the living area for a moment before heading straight for his decanter of brandy with an internal shrug. He stopped as he reached for his though, running a hand lightly over the glass before dropping it back to his side, sighing. Minerva's words came back to him; her words that suggested that he could make Hermione fall in love with him again, even if her memories were never fully returned. Perhaps, he thought, he could find a way to – how did Minerva put it – 'do it again…'

"Yes," he mused to himself bitterly in the empty room. "If you can find a way to speak to her again without being a sarcastic, sour, old git." Severus shook his head and opened the top drawer of the bureau. The only thing inside was a small sliver necklace, the pendant that dangled off of it a single, deep red ruby. It was Hermione's. He had seen her wear it during much of their time together; he had never asked about it – he had never given it much thought – but it must have been important to her. Severus picked it up and laid it gently in the palm of his hand. She had left it there, in his quarters, that morning before the battle. He knew he would have to return it. With a sigh, he closed his hand over the little piece of jewelry and closed his eyes briefly before placing it in the pocket of his robes and turned on his heel to leave. Perhaps this would give him the chance to…well, make things semi-right with her.

"Oi, Hermione, wait up!"

Draco jogged the last few paces to catch up with her on the grassy lawn.

"If you want, I could go back and hex a bit of his bollocks off," he offered. ''I bet McGonagall would turn a blind eye…"

"Draco, please, I'm not in the mood."

But he was not deterred. If anything, now, he was determined to clear up this mess if not for the sake of the man who had saved his life, but more importantly for this girl who he was starting to consider a close friend. Clearly, I won't be getting anywhere with my Slytherin humor today. Draco sighed. "He's an ass," he tried, turning his head to get a better look at her face. She was trying very hard not to cry in front of him; that was plain. Perhaps, he mused, she still didn't believe that the two of them got along quite well now. It still infuriated him that he was the only one even attempting to help her remember and he only started seeing her as a friend, what, a month prior to this whole ridiculous mess of a situation?

"I would love to hear you say that to his face," she laughed with little conviction.

"I did," Draco answered plainly. At her bewildered expression, he merely shrugged it off. "Everyone was thinking it. I just said it."

Hermione laughed again, this time with disbelief. "And he didn't curse you into oblivion?"

"He tried." He smirked at her. "McGonagall stepped in and sent me to find you." His smirk faded a bit and he looked her in the eye. "I know right now it seems a bit out of character for me to ask, but are you alright?"

She studied him for a moment. "I'll be alright once I find a way to bring my memories back."

"Maybe I can help you," Draco offered. While he had no intention of just blurting it all out – invoking the wrath of Severus Snape and that forever thick-headed Potter (tempting as though it may be) was not something Draco fancied dealing with - that didn't mean he couldn't…point her in the right direction.

"I suppose it's too much to hope you'll just sit me down and tell me everything I want to know…"

"And be hexed into oblivion? One step at a time, Granger. One step at a time."

The rest of the morning found the pair strolling the castle and the grounds. Hermione was glad to have someone to talk to besides the acerbic Snape and she could not deny it was nice to be outside again rather than cooped up in the library or potions lab. She also knew that her friends – all of them – were keeping something from her. But it was easy to see which of them were trying to jog her memory and which were…actively avoiding the subject. They had told her what she assumed was a shortened version of events that started with her being rescued by Professor Snape during the Death Eater ambush in the forest and continued through the months leading up to the battle. Harry had seemed to skim over the bits that involved Snape, but Draco filled in what he could for her while dodging glares from Harry and a few warning looks from Ginny when he skimmed too close to the truth. They were looks that Hermione did not miss but she had, for whatever reason, bitten her tongue and moved toward focusing on creating a potion to reverse the effects of the first.

It wasn't until later during their walk that they turned a corner in the castle and Hermione realized she had no clue as to where they were. The corridor was dim, but there was no mistaking the small beam of light that poured out from a door tucked back in the shadows. To Draco's delight, he needn't say a word; Hermione was already walking past him to investigate. Silently, he followed as she went through the door.

"Where are we?" She stared around the garden filled with light, flowers blooming – it all looked so different from the rest of the ruined castle and grounds. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let the warm sun kiss her cheeks, feeling content and at peace – even more so than when her memories would seemingly return to her in her dreams. And yet, something about this beautiful place felt familiar to her, as if she recognized it somehow.

A strange and sudden feeling of recollection hit her. As her eyes flew open, she took a few more steps, running her hands lightly across the top of a tall bed of flowers. "I know this place," she murmured, turning to face her companion. "I've been here before." When Draco only continued to watch her, she turned back to the garden. "I can't explain it; I don't remember ever coming here, but I know I've been here before." A small smile came onto her face, what felt like one of the first true smiles in days. As the feeling overtook her, she noticed out of the corner of her eye something else – something that stirred another memory within her: "Lillies…" she breathed. The thoughts floating in her mind, the ones she had been so sure of, seemed foreign now and it confused her on a whole new level.

"What is this place?" she finally inquired, looking behind her. But she saw that she was suddenly alone. "Draco?" He was gone.

He was trying to help her remember something, that much was obvious. But why? What does he stand to gain, she wondered. For a brief moment, she entertained the idea that Draco was the mysterious figure in her dreams. More quickly than the thought had come on, however, she dismissed it. Draco Malfoy was far too forward to have kept the fact that they were in love from her. And he would never have allowed Harry to keep that a secret, not in a million years.

Hermione wandered over to a bench in the middle of the garden and sat down. Perhaps, she thought, if she sat there long enough, something would come to her, something more solid than a feeling. She closed her eyes again and tried to clear her mind, breathing in the fresh air and the smell of what looked to be hundreds of fragrant flowers. It felt like hours she sat there, unmoving, willing something more than a feeling to come back to her.

"Miss Granger?"

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her former professor's voice – the one person she was trying to escape at the moment. Out of habit, Hermione stood to face the man in all black that had addressed her.

"What, pray tell, do you think you're doing out here?"

Hermione sighed. She was too worn out to take his bait today. "Just sitting, Professor," she replied before re-claiming her perch on the bench.

Severus didn't immediately reply; in fact, she thought he may have left. But his deep timbre reached her ears once again: "Surely you realize that it is unwise to be out here alone given your…mental state?"

Hermione snorted softly once unsure whether she was annoyed or amused. "You have strange ways of telling people you care for their well-being."

"I merely have no desire to take further blame for any more mishaps you may encounter. I believe erasing your memory was enough."

This time, she did let a laugh escape her.

"And an interesting sense of humor," she added before continuing her practice of gazing at her surroundings. She was again startled when she felt him take a seat on the bench with her, facing the opposite direction, though it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, she felt quite at ease suddenly, like they had shared hundreds of comfortable silences together.

She finally broke the silence after a time: "Did you follow me here?"

"I often…come here to think," he answered. It felt strange telling her this, something she already knew, or had known, once – perhaps knew somewhere deep in her mind - but it was still her, still Hermione, and even if she couldn't remember what they had together, he still trusted her. He knew he could tell her anything.

"Ah, so I'm invading your hideout," she said, grinning slightly at the ground in front of her.

"So it would seem; although, I haven't been here in…well, until recently, many years."

Hermione didn't know if she should respond; the way he spoke made her feel as though he wasn't even speaking to her. It was as if he was recalling a painful memory.

And then, without preamble, he spoke again, changing the subject. "I realize I may have…reacted too harshly regarding your research today," he admitted. And then: "I…apologize."

Hermione didn't dare move lest he remember himself and start berating her again. Severus Snape was apologizing? To her?

"Draco told me what happened down there after I left. Are you sure Professor McGonagall didn't just threaten you to say that?" she asked, bristling a little, suddenly remembering why she was angry with him and the callous things he'd said to her earlier. When had he ever apologized, especially to a student?

Why should she believe it was genuine?

To her astonishment – again – he did not raise his voice or criticize her (surprising, she noted, given the way she was speaking to him).

"She threatened me, yes." He turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. She caught his slight smirk – a twitching of the mouth. "But if there is one thing I do not do lightly, it is offering up apologies. I am afraid that was authentic, Miss Granger."

Hermione's lips couldn't help but twitch into a smirk of their own.

"I have dreams at night," she blurted out suddenly after another comfortable silence had passed between them.

"Most people do, Miss Granger," he said, though not unkindly.

"I mean about what happened to me. I have dreams that feel like - I don't know how to explain it - like they could be memories. Can that happen?"

"The mind is a complex place. I have studied it extensively for purposes of Occlumency and Legilimency; however, I won't pretend to have unraveled all its mysteries. It's quite possible that your subconscious is allowing those memories to surface while you're asleep. As you know, our minds are at their most vulnerable while we sleep. I believe, you may recall, Mr. Potter had to learn that the hard way."

She nodded. Severus chanced a glance at her and noted that for once, her expression betrayed that she did not have all of the answers. In a different time, this would have made him gleeful; the Gryffindor know-it-all unable to live up to the title her peers and professors had bestowed upon her.

Now, though, it only served to pain him, a sharp pang deep in his chest that wouldn't seem to go away.

The fact that she seemed to be dreaming of memories, however…he could not squash down the small feeling of hope that sprung to life at hearing those words. Maybe, just maybe…

Mentally shaking his head, Severus tried to dismiss those thoughts and reached into his robes to find the object that brought him out here in the first place. No use getting ahead of ourselves. They may only be dreams, after all.

He stood up and silently took a few steps until he was standing next to where she sat, holding out the object in his hand. "I believe this may belong to you."

Hermione could not help the small gasp of air that escaped her. "Where did you find that?"

Severus held the small, glittering object in his palm for her to see. "I found it when I returned to my office after the battle. I recognized…that is, I remembered…"

"You saw me wearing it," Hermione finished for him, nodding, glad that her happiness at seeing the piece of jewelry in his hand distracted her from questioning his sudden awkwardness. "I assumed I had lost it."

"It was made from goblin-wrought sliver," she continued quietly, remembering, looking at it as it rested in his hand. "My mother and father had it made for me in my second year. They had it charmed in Diagon Alley so that it if I ever felt homesick it would know, and I would be able to experience that feeling of...being home." She gave him a serene smile. "I never thanked you," she said, trying to distract herself from those other, somewhat painful thoughts. She had no idea what home even was anymore.

Severus tried to look somewhat taken aback, as if he couldn't possibly fathom what she was talking about. "Whatever for, Miss Granger?" he asked. He silently cursed his voice for sounding so constricted.

"For saving my life. For bringing me back here. For keeping me safe. I haven't been given all of the details – mostly, it seems because Harry…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "I know there's something he doesn't want to tell me, something he thinks he's shielding me from." She turned away then and walked a few paces down the garden's path, laughing bitterly to herself. "It makes me wonder, you know? What could have possibly happened that was so horrible or life-changing they wouldn't even tell me?"

Severus flinched at her words, glad she still had her back to him and wouldn't see. In fact, she could have been talking to herself if he hadn't known any better. She picked a browning leaf from a plant near her hand and fiddled with it as she spoke. "I'm sorry too, you know. The things I said…I can be a bit…over-zealous at times."

His derisive snort finally turned her around. "A bit?" he drawled. "At…times?"

She opened her mouth to retort when she noticed the minute smirk was back.

"In any case, that 'experimental sludge' saved my life." She looked up at Severus who has a strange look in his eye that Hermione could not quite place. Sadness? No, it certainly wouldn't come from his eyes, not sadness. But then again, it seemed so apparent. She wasn't sure what to think of such an unguarded Severus Snape.

But he had been so in her dreams.

Hold on, she thought with a start, since when did you put his face to the masked man in your sleep? That is impossible...never in a million...Hermione mentally shook her head. But what if…this strange persona he was wearing at this very moment was somehow strangely familiar to her.

She looked back up, coming out of her thoughts, only to find that he was no longer standing before her, but had started to make his way out, away from her and the garden.

Before he could get too far, before she knew what she was doing, Hermione felt the urge to stop him.

"Wait."

She couldn't quite believe how quickly he seemed to halt and turn around. She had to have imagined that.

Yes?" Severus suddenly felt as though he had lost his ability to breathe. Had she remembered something? Was it wrong of him, was it too much to hope that it could be that simple?

She paused. "My necklace," she said almost sadly, gesturing to the object he now clenched in his fist once more.

Severus, seeming to take an extra moment to register her words, finally looked down at his hand and then nodded stiffly. "Of course," he said, his voice seeming to be forced civility. He took the remaining steps back so they were only a few feet away again and opened his hand once more, offering up that tiny piece of jewelry, that trinket that he now knew meant such a great deal to her.

Hermione reached out her hand, her fingers gently brushing his palm as she curled them around her necklace.

It was like a surge when their skin touched.

Her breath caught instantly in her throat, suddenly, there were flashes in her mind; flashes that were clearer than they had ever been, even than what she had seen in her dreams. She saw bright, flashes of light in the forest, heard the sounds of an old, Muggle jukebox playing songs she knew from another, happier time; she saw Severus emerging from the shadows the first time, revealing himself as her savior, watched herself taking his hand to dive headfirst into the Pensive, unsure of what she would find; she felt her back against the stone wall, his hands on her arms, holding her, their lips suddenly colliding for the first time, the clear image of him openly laughing with her while he held her in his arms, the first time he said he loved her…that night after he had made his allegiances clear to the Death Eaters in the Headmaster's study. It was all there, all of it: Malfoy's house, meeting Neville in the kitchens, seeing Harry again for the first time in months…

And she couldn't speak. The words were trapped behind her teeth, banging on them like a cage, screaming to get out.

It was you, her brain tried to say.

But her mouth would not form the words.

It wasn't a dream.

It was all over in a split second and Severus…Severus. Her Severus…he was walking away from her, away from the garden and still, still she couldn't do anything else but stand there. She felt cemented to the ground. If she stayed there long enough, she knew she would grow roots and leaves and petals and become like one of the many beautiful flowers that surrounded her.

She couldn't breathe.

It was ages before she found her voice again; her whispered "Severus" was lost to the wind that had begun to pick up speed. Hermione raised her tear-rimmed eyes above her and saw that the sky was becoming dark, the sun being chased away by a fast-coming thunderstorm. She stared down at the pendant in her palm. Had the old, Goblin magic jolted something to life in her? Or had it simply been the way her skin seemed to remember his so vividly?

A drop of rain hit her cheek and she came back from her thoughts, her heart leaping in her chest, prodding at her to go after him with haste, to tell him that she remembered, to kiss him, to feel his strong arms holding her in return, to – finally – be home.

It was with those thoughts that Hermione took enough determined steps to get back inside the castle just as the sky opened up completely, but she stopped short of taking off at a dead run when a realization hit her very firmly: Severus had never told her. He never even tried.

And her friends – oh, god, her friends – they had lied to her as well.

Suddenly, she was furious.

How could they? How could they think they had the right?

But would you have believed them?

She acknowledged it was highly unlikely she would have taken anyone who told her she was in love with Severus Snape very seriously, at least not in that state of mind. That admission, however, did not stop the feelings of resentment and hurt from rising heatedly in her stomach. It was too much, and she wanted to scream her lungs out and be ill all at the same time.

Mostly, she just wanted to cry.

Sitting against the wall, Hermione cradled her head in her hands and closed her eyes. It could have been twenty minutes. It could have been four hours. She thought that maybe she would be content to sit there like that for the rest of time. It was easier, somehow.

Hermione did recognize that she should be rejoicing, not hiding, but part of her felt like she was still moving in slow motion. It all felt very surreal, like she was still reliving the memories and catching up to present time with this newfound state of mind.

But it also felt like she had just come up from drowning.

"Oh bloody hell, now what did he do?"

Hermione startled at the sound of Draco's irritated voice but didn't raise her face from where it hid behind her hands.

"—gave me my necklace back," came the muffled response.

Draco paused. "Come again?"

She sniffled and finally raised her gaze, and watched the expression on Draco's face change from one of confusion to understanding as he took in her appearance.

"Merlin…you remember?"

Still quite lost for any kind of explanation, Hermione could only gesture with her hand in a half sort of shrug.

"I can't believe it actually worked," Draco said, mostly to himself. "And you've already been fighting, then?" he asked as he leaned against the stone wall and slid down next to her. "Bloody fascinating relationship you two have, really…"

Hermione shot him a halfhearted, side-long glare before going back to staring out at the torrential downpour in the courtyard. "We didn't fight," she finally said in a lackluster tone. "We didn't say anything."

She looked up then; it took a moment but his eyes finally widened slightly in understanding. "You didn't tell him?" he asked incredulously. Hermione shook her head. "But…why?"

"Here's a better question," she countered testily. "I'm trying to figure out how the whole lot of you was able to watch me day in and day out while I researched potion ingredients to try and fix my memory and no one said a damn word." She pulled her knees up to her body and hugged her arms around them as she continued: "So tell me that, Draco…whose brilliant idea was it to intentionally keep me from knowing the truth?"

"I'll give you three guesses," he spat – and Hermione knew, she'd known from the beginning who had been behind keeping her in the dark for this long. "It didn't change a thing," Draco continued. "The battle, the memories, Dumbledore's grand plan, the countless, selfless sacrifices – you know your friend will always hold his childish little grudge."

"And what?" Hermione suddenly interjected. "None of you could stand up and disagree? Because he's 'The Chosen One' he gets the final say about other peoples' lives? About my life?"

"Bloody hell, we tried didn't we?" Draco sighed and ran his hand through his blonde hair. "Madam Pomfrey said the 'shock' of that revelation could have made it worse had you chose not to accept it. McGonagall agreed, Hermione. They," he put an acute emphasis on the word and held his hands up in defense, "decided to wait it out and see if your mind would mend itself."

The two sat in silence while Hermione let that sink in. So they thought she'd fall apart, her mind in danger of turning to irreversible mush, a lifetime in St. Mungo's with Gilderoy Lockhart if they told her she loved Severus?

"I wasn't some fragile, trembling thing, you know," she reminded him, calmer, after some time had passed. "For someone with missing chunks of her memory, I think I was pretty close to my normal self."

"Then what's the problem?" he asked, clearly becoming more irritated as the conversation went on. "I still don't understand why you haven't run off to find him and shag him bloody senseless – "

Hermione gave him a swift smack on the arm with the back of her hand. "What about the rest of it then, hmm? We're not in our little bubble in the headmaster's office anymore," she reminded him.

"And your point is…" Draco rolled his eyes. "That's a good thing, you know. Besides, I distinctly remember you putting up quite the fuss about being cooped up in that little bubble in the headmaster's office," he said with an obvious expression.

"My point, you prat, is that it's not just me and him and a handful of my closest friends anymore."

"So, what, you're suddenly afraid of what the world thinks? I thought you loved him."

"I do! And that is not what I meant!"

She could tell Draco was holding back a snide comment – one that would have easily rolled off his tongue before – but he kept it in; she even noted that his expression seemed to soften a fraction, as if he was able to pick up on her anxieties before she could even explain them aloud. "You think he is going to push you away? Listen, do you remember the aftermath of the battle? Any of it?"

"Not particularly." Ironically, she didn't remember much about what lead up to losing her memories, those final moments, or even right after waking up when she was so utterly confused…it was all quite hazy, even with her full memory restored once again.

"When he thought he was going to lose you, nothing else mattered. He didn't care who was watching, who saw him holding your hand…He loves you – gods, I never imagined I would say that about him, but it's true. And the war is over, he can finally live his life…and he can live it with you, Granger." How terribly wonderful that one little sentence, that simple idea, sounded. They could live their lives together. As if reading her mind, he continued, "But first, you have to clue him in on that one, tiny detail; you know, the one where your memories came back and all…?"

"I know. I have to tell him." She buried her face into her hands again, elbows resting on her knees. "I want to tell him…"

"But…?"

"He never tried to tell me," she said, taking a deep breath, speaking quietly. The initial anger she had felt was beginning to ebb away. Now, in its place, a new, hollow feeling was sinking in, settling in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm not following you…"

"All that time – brewing the potion, hunting for ingredients, researching…we were alone countless times. He didn't even try to…" she sighed. "Maybe he doesn't – "

"Stop. Merlin, Granger, are you really that thick? 'Brightest witch of her age,' I swear…"

"Draco!"

"Well, be sensible! What was he supposed to do? Get down on one knee and confess his undying love? Bring it up casually in the lab one morning? 'By the way Miss Granger,'" Draco made his voice lower to imitate Severus. "We're in love, you and I…thought you ought to know.'? Or maybe he should have just thrown you against the wall and forced you to remember?" She scoffed and looked away, disgusted at the notion that Severus would even do the latter to her. Draco took ahold of her shoulder, forcing her to look in his direction. "Hermione." Finally, she did raise her eyes to his. "You both deserve some happiness. Don't you think so?"

Hermione studied his face for a long time before answering. Only now that she remembered everything did she understand just how hard he had been trying to find some way to help her.

She gave him a small smile. "When did you get so smart, hmm?"

Satisfied that Hermione had moved off of the 'what if he doesn't really love me' train of thought, Draco released her shoulder and snorted softly with a half-shrug. "Guess being orphaned will do that to you."

She watched the weight of that sentence sink in through his crystal blue eyes; it was plain that he had never said those words out loud.

This time, it was her turn to place a comforting hand on his arm. There were simply no words; to lose both parents – even when it was clear that one's death would certainly not be mourned – to acknowledge that, to speak it aloud…

Hermione could not even imagine his pain.

They sat in silence for a time before she heard Draco sigh, coming out of his thoughts. He covered her hand that lay on his arm briefly, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and pushed himself up from the stone floor. "Let's go find, Severus, shall we?"

With a half-smile, Hermione took the hand he was offering her and let him haul her up from the floor as well. "I think I'd like to speak with Harry first," she said, dusting herself off.

"Ah, going to curse him into oblivion, are you? May I watch?"

She backhanded him lightly again. Truth be told, she wasn't sure what she was going to do when she confronted her bespectacled friend; although, she mused, cursing him into oblivion might become tempting at some point in the conversation.

The rain had stopped for the time being and the sun peeked through the ragged cracks in the wall in some of the still-damaged corridors of the castle as Hermione went on her search for Harry. The Gryffindor common room was empty and the only people in the Great Hall were a handful of witches and wizards she didn't recognize (most likely those that had come to volunteer to help rebuild the castle). It was an unlikely spot, but she even tried the library which, of course, did not yield any results. She was about to give the Astronomy tower a go before traipsing down to Hagrid's when she turned a corner and saw a familiar face.

"Luna! Have you seen Harry around today?"

"Hi, Hermione. I haven't seen him since breakfast and I've been working with Professor Flitwick to reconstruct the bridge for most of the afternoon. Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, fine. I was just hoping to talk to him." Hermione turned then to leave to continue her search. She didn't get more than a few paces away when Luna spoke again in her far off, dream-like voice:

"I'm so happy you can finally remember."

Hermione stopped dead and turned around slowly. "I – what?"

"Your memories have returned; it's so wonderful."

"How did you…?"

Luna shrugged as if they were discussing nothing more important than grades on a class assignment. "It's in your eyes." She smiled serenely, but Hermione could not help but feel that tiny bit of panic rising in her chest.

"Don't worry," said Luna, her smile never fading. "I won't tell them. Harry and the others. You should be the one to do that.''

"Try the edge of the lake," Luna said in an answer to Hermione's first question. "He's been down there quite a great deal lately."

Hermione nodded. The cemetery. Of course.

"Thank you, Luna." Hermione finally returned a smile and nodded before hurrying off to the grounds once more.

Sure enough, Hermione had little trouble locating her bespectacled friend at the grassy slopes near the lake. She found him sitting under the shade of a large tree at the top of a hill overlooking the newly dug cemetery for those who fell in the final battle. Tempting though it was to march up to him, shove her wand into his face, and utter a few choice words, a bit of her fire began to fade when she saw him. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, slowly twirling his wand in between his fingers. Even from the side, she could see his expression: it was an obvious mixture of sorrow and guilt. She was sure, if she were closer, she would be able to see that the vibrant, emerald sparkle had gone out.

"I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Hey, stranger," Harry greeted her as she lowered herself next to him on the grass. His voice was welcoming but it seemed far off. "I haven't seen you in a few days," he commented without looking at her.

Hermione followed his gaze to the rows of marble stone below them. She had a pretty good idea that he was focusing on one in particular. "Sorry, it's just…well, the potion, you know…research hasn't exactly been going very well."

"I heard you put the old bat in his place yesterday."

Hermione was glad that Harry had his eyes directed elsewhere at that moment. "I wouldn't quite go as far as to say that. We had a bit of a…disagreement. That's all."

Harry snorted. "Well, whatever you call it, I'm just glad you finally figured out that you're better off without him."

Hermione tried her best to fix her expression in one reminiscent of when she would try to defend his teaching methods to her friends. It was plain that despite all that transpired, Harry was still holding onto his grudge for the Potions Master. "I'm not, actually," she argued, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "He may be difficult to work with, but he's the only person here who can help me, Harry. Please try to understand that."

"I miss Ron," Harry said abruptly, looking back to the cemetery again. "It's no fun provoking you about Snape's teaching when I don't have Ron to back me up."

"I miss him too." She noticed how his face had darkened despite his jesting words so she added, "It's not your fault. You know that, right?"

"He shouldn't have been up there," Harry said as he uprooted another chunk of grass at his feet, throwing it halfheartedly.

Unable to find words, she put her hand on top of Harry's and they looked out across the sea of stone markers together in silence.

It felt strange to re-acknowledge Ron's death in this fresh state of mind; Hermione knew that Harry blamed himself personally for each and every one of the lives lost in the midst of the war against Voldemort and there was little anyone could do to placate him in that regard. The longer they sat there in silence, the more tangled Hermione's emotions became and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to begin discussing the reason she had been looking for Harry in the first place. She was angry, there was no doubt; but she suddenly couldn't bring herself to breach the subject of her returned memories at that moment. Not here. Not while Harry was in this place, struggling with these feelings, these demons. She could keep it from him too, she reasoned. Hell, Hermione thought, she could tell only Severus and they could carry on just as before. Of course it wasn't practical to think they could do that forever, but for the time being…

Finally, her decision made to hold her tongue, she took a breath to speak:

"Ron was brave." She looked at him now, making sure to keep hold of his hand. "He was a hero, a Gryffindor, through and through. He knew what he was doing up there, flying that dragon, Harry. And he wouldn't have wanted you to sit here and keep blaming yourself." She sighed. "We all knew what the stakes were…going into this. Remember him. But don't let this guilt eat you away, Harry…please."

Harry nodded, but Hermione knew, sadly, no matter how many times he heard the words, he would always hold that blame in his heart.

She was broken out of her thoughts when she saw Harry's head suddenly snap to look at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Wait a minute. What did you say?"

"What?"

"Just a minute ago when you were talking about Ron. Who told you he was flying a dragon? Are your – Hermione! Did you remember something?"

Hermione froze. "What? No." She recovered and laughed incredulously. "Don't be absurd, Harry. You must have told me…or –"

"I didn't. I don't think anyone did, Hermione…I think that might have been a memory coming back! Why aren't you more excited?" Harry was now standing, his eyes lit up with something akin to excitement – he was staring at her, perhaps waiting for her to remember more, but Hermione couldn't bring her eyes to meet his.

She was very quiet now. "Harry, I don't think…"

"Come on, Hermione! We should be celebrating! I know it's something small – I mean, it's not exactly happy either—but it's a start, right? You're acting like this is something that happens all the time."

When she didn't respond or move to look in his direction, Harry aimed to get into her line of sight, his expression becoming serious again.

"Unless...unless it does happen all the time?"

"Harry…"

"No, tell me the truth, Hermione. Do you remember? Do you have your memories back?"

She looked at him, the truth spilling out of her expression, unable to speak or conceal what she knew Harry had just figured out.

"When?"

"Yesterday."

Harry exhaled a long breath that turned into a low whistle as he averted his eyes to the grass. "Blimey," he murmured.

A considerable silence stretched by until Hermione couldn't take it anymore: "That's all you have to say? 'Blimey'?"

"Hermione, listen, I know you're –"

"What, upset? Hurt? Feeling a bit betrayed?" Hermione felt all of those things well up inside of her and it made her words taste like venom in her mouth. "Yeah, Harry, you would know how I'm feeling, wouldn't you? Because you knew…this whole time…you knew and you just let me wander around this castle feeling half empty and confused!"

"Exactly what would you have liked me to tell you, Hermione? " Harry retorted, suddenly defensive. "That it had been suggested that you were in love with the Dungeon Bat? That when he pulled you out of that ambush in the woods all those months ago and hid you from the world – from me, from Ron, from everyone who loves you and cares about you and was worried sick when there was no trace of your whereabouts – you uncovered his deep, dark secrets and fell in love with him?

"You've been through a lot," he continued, "but there was no telling what would happen to you if we told you, well, everything!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and Harry, unconsciously, took a step back. "That's what your arguing point is? You weren't sure how I would react if I knew the truth before I regained my actual memories?" She was at fuming point now. "You thought maybe I was too fragile to handle it? Oh, no…don't tell Hermione the truth; she might crumble to her feet in despair and agony at the notion of true love! What utter bollocks!" Tears strained to spill over her eyelids but she forced them back. "You were so busy fretting over what would happen if I knew the truth, you never stopped to wonder how I actually felt," she said sadly, some of her fire dissolving. "I don't think it was my reaction you feared, Harry." Hermione shook her head, a tear that had finally broken free making its way down her angry, red cheeks. "I think you were afraid that I would remember everything and tell you that it was true. You're afraid that I really do love him."

It wasn't a question, really, but Hermione waited for Harry to answer her nonetheless…to say that she was wrong, that he had other, more justifiable reasons.

But he averted his eyes to the grass once more and Hermione felt another few tears fall from her eyes.

"I was trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection, Harry," she finally answered but her voice lacked its previous venomous tone.

"I know."

"But you kept it from me anyway."

"We'd just lost Ron. And suddenly, you wake up with no memory of the past few months – nothing since the ambush in the forest – and Draco Malfoy is telling me that you and Snape…" Harry trailed off as if he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He finally shook his head to regain control of his thoughts and continued: "At first, even with everything else aside, none of us were sure what would happen if we just flat out told you everything; they said if you heard the truth you could have gone into an even worse mental state than you were in already. And then, as more time passed, it got harder to sit you down and tell you the truth. I couldn't lose you, too."

He leaned over a bit to try and get into her line of sight. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he intoned sincerely while grasping hold of one of her hands. "I am so. sorry."

"Oh, Harry…" she whispered. "You won't lose me." She pulled him into a fierce hug and somehow, everything began to feel right again. It was as though the little pieces of her world were falling back into place. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You love him?" he asked, pulling back. The question was (mostly) free of judgment; Hermione supposed, though, that it would perhaps take Harry more time to come to terms with the fact that she was in love with a man he spent a great deal of his life despising. He would have to get used to having Severus around (and vice versa) - that was, of course, if she ever got on with telling him her memories had returned.

"I do." She gave him a half smile. "Think you can come to tolerate it someday?" she half-teased.

"It won't be easy," Harry muttered and Hermione let out a laugh…even though she had a feeling the statement wasn't just in reference to Harry's acceptance of her feelings for the Potions Master. There was no doubt: sitting close by the fire in the Headmaster's quarters, reading, isolated from the world was one thing. To walk out into daylight, hand-in-hand, making their relationship public…Hermione knew none of it would be easy.

Making it work was something Hermione was most certainly willing to do. Because the one thing she did know, the one, very most absolute factor was that she loved him.

Now, she just had to tell him.

The rain had hardly let up that afternoon and it was doing nothing to improve Severus' mood.

He felt an utter fool for thinking for that small moment, that fraction of a second that Hermione had remembered something the earlier when she called after him in the garden. How many walls had he inadvertently let down? How ridiculous had he allowed himself to look in that fleeting instant?

And creating an antidote was proving far more difficult than he had anticipated. Even the obvious concoctions to counteract the ingredients in the original brew had been a failure. Something at every turn hindered their progress; especially considering they were also trying to ensure that the antidote did not reverse the positive effects of the first one. One wrong mixture of ingredients…there was no telling what it would do. Severus was desperate but not at the expense of Hermione's life.

Severus would also never admit it out loud, but Draco had been right about many things…most prevalently, magic was failing him. Perhaps he could go in search of other, more rare ingredients; he could work in peace instead of glancing up and seeing her determined face across the work table…that concentrated stare, her lower lip caught between her teeth as the wheels turned in a brain hidden beneath that frizzy monstrosity of hers. Grudgingly, Severus knew he was throwing up a great many of defenses these days where Hermione was concerned; it didn't take much of a genius to deduce that given a bit more time, he might shut her out almost completely.

In light of that, it would, perchance, be worth his effort to go in search of a less conventional solution. He had contacts outside of the magical community; he'd read of Muggle doctors and scientists who had created a drug to aid in the treatment of a disease that caused severe memory loss. It was quite a reach, he surmised, but if there was a way to combine their research with his own…shaking his head and placing it wearily in both hands, he recognized how absurd it all sounded.

On the other hand, he was willing to try anything at this point.

"To hell with Minerva's plan," he grumbled to himself as he situated himself at his desk and pulled parchment and ink towards him. The new Headmistress would be displeased to say the least to learn of this possibly indefinite leave of absence...borderline resignation, he amended as an afterthought. Who could know how long he would be gone? And loathe as he was to admit it, if he didn't have Hermione, what else was left for him here?

Venturing beyond what magic could offer was his last ray of hope.

Hermione stared at her supper, one obnoxiously persistent thought poking the back of her brain – it had been there, making her overthink to the point of losing her appetite since she talked with Harry down by the cemetery. What on earth is wrong with me? She wondered to herself and pushed a few peas across the plate mindlessly. You can't possibly be afraid of what people think – or is it just fear of the unknown? She sighed to herself. I've faced unspeakable evils…why am I such a coward now?

So wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't even notice Draco stalking through the dining hall; he came to a halt before her on the opposite side, slamming both palms face down on the table so that he was leaning on it menacingly.

"Damn it all, Granger, he's leaving! And you're still. just. sitting. here."

Having only a mild inkling as to what he was going off about now, Hermione raised only her gaze to look at him from across the table, her eyes half-warning in the candle light of the Great Hall.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Harry asked, not even bothering to disguise the disgust in his voice that Draco had the audacity to shout while Harry tried to eat his supper.

"Snape." The group of them looked over in surprise as Ginny came to a halt next to Draco. She seemed out of breath, like she had jogged there. "It's true, he's leaving. He's handed in what looked like his resignation; I saw him clearing things out of his classroom not five minutes ago," she affirmed.

Hermione could feel that her heart had started to beat harder within her chest. Leaving?

The boys' were saying something – heatedly, that much she could gather – but the rest of it was white noise to her ears. She had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say – she hadn't been ready to tell Severus that her memories had returned yet, but gods…how silly that seemed now in light of this news.

"…And he told you this, did he?" She finally heard Harry's snide-sounding question break through as her mind cleared out a bit.

"Not that it matters, Potter," Draco sneered in response, "but still residing in the room beneath the Head's quarters, one is able to hear quite a good deal of information if one is in the right place at the right time." He directed his attention back to Hermione. "And I hope she's just waiting until the very last second…maybe a more dramatic reunion? Because, Hermione, if you just plan on sitting here and watching him leave, I swear –"

"Draco," she cut him off sharply. "Don't." She shoved her chair back and got up, wishing to be far away from the dining hall as possible.

She needed air.

She couldn't breathe. Again.

With Draco in the lead, her friends managed to catch up with her in the Entrance Hall. "How long are you planning to keep this from him?" he said through nearly-gritted teeth.

"He's leaving!" Hermione retorted through an equally clenched jaw, trying her damnedest not to scream at him where it would echo for the whole of Hogwarts to hear. "Seems to me like he's just giving up. Maybe it's for the best, Draco. Maybe we were just fooling ourselves!"

"Hell, not this again..." Draco spun on his heel as if walking away, but he only paced a few heated steps before turning back. "You don't know why he's leaving; maybe he has a new plan to help restore your memories. Quite frankly I'd say that would be a considerable waste of time and energy since, oh, I don't know, they've already returned! The man is in pain, Hermione. Maybe he doesn't want to be hanging around here when he thinks you're lost to him forever.

"You have to tell him. Before he goes and just disappears off the radar," Draco continued pointedly. "A man like him…if things don't go his way out there…if he gives up and doesn't want to be found, well…"

"He deserves to know." It was Harry who spoke, even if he did say his words to the floor. "You weren't fooling yourselves; I was there, too, remember? I may not be particularly fond of the idea, but anyone with half a brain can see you love each other. If he goes, will you be able to live with that choice? Malfoy's right; if Snape goes out there and he doesn't find what he's looking for, he'll probably disappear for good."

"Thanks, Potter," Draco said, somewhat surprised that Harry had agreed with him – and without the usual sarcasm.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Harry grumbled.

Hermione suddenly grabbed Ginny's arm, directing the redhead's attention to her frantically. "Ginny, where did you say you saw him last?"

"He was in the Defense classroom speaking to McGonagall, something about clearing his things from the Head's quarters, but…" she trailed off.

Hermione had already gone.

She felt as though she were outside of her body as she ran; she felt lighter than she had in weeks, happier than she had been in months.

And, at the same time, possibly more terrified than she had been out on that final battle field.

How stupid she had been to think they couldn't do this, that they couldn't make this work; he loved her. He told her he loved her. How many people had he said that to in his lifetime? Severus Snape did not say those words without meaning them.

Almost there, she thought. The great marble statue was now in sight down at the end of the corridor and she felt a small smile of near triumph break out onto her face.

The entrance was open, as if it knew she was coming. Up the stairs she went, taking them two at a time, up and up and up until she finally reached the top. The office was quiet, but she made a line straight for the door concealed off to the side – so familiar – and it knew her, too. Hermione never even gave a second thought to the fact that it opened for her without a key, without a password; finally, she was there. His name was on the tip of her tongue, her arms ready to embrace his tall, lean form, throwing the heavy wooden door open…

And he wasn't there.

She leaned down, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, trying to keep air coming in and out of her lungs.

The room was empty. There was furniture remaining; in fact, to an untrained eye, it looked as though it was perfectly well inhabited. Even the fire still burned in the hearth. But with merely a glance Hermione could see that pieces were missing: the many books once lining the walls and littering the end tables, a cabinet between the door and the stairs leading to the sleeping quarters – once filled with phials of various potions & ingredients – was ajar and empty, and she felt sure that were she to venture up those very steps, she would find an empty wardrobe as well.

A bereaved sigh escaped her as she tried to form an intelligent train of thought; think, Hermione, think…

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall's voice startled her into turning around. "The wards were down in the office – how did you…?"

"Where is he?"

Hermione struggled to catch her breath as McGonagall laid a concerned hand on her shoulder. "My dear, I'm afraid I don't –"

"Severus," she huffed out. "Where…is…has he already gone…am I too…late…?"

Minerva's eyes widened slightly as understanding took hold. "Hermione…"

"Tell me!"

"He was heading for the Entrance Hall only moments ago; I can send a Patronus along, but he may already be –" Hermione didn't hear the rest; she had broken out of Minerva's motherly hold and was already taking off through the office, down the winding staircase, and down the corridor once again. She had to get there in time; he couldn't leave.

The Entrance Hall was completely devoid of anyone. The only sound was her wildly beating heart in her ears, her strained breaths as she forced air out of her lungs. She was so close. He wasn't in the castle but that didn't mean he wasn't still on grounds. She could still get to him.

When she reached the doorway, her heart leapt against her ribcage: by some incredible force of magic or divine intervention, she could see him, his dark, ominous form a little ways down the lawn as he made for the apparation point and her chest tightened the farther he got, the more distance he put between them.

And then, as quickly as the jagged lightning bolt that suddenly struck the sky, she took off from the bottom of the stairs, running after him into the dark, slipping on the wet grass, sliding, struggling to keep her balance and go faster at the same time.

"Severus!"

He barely had time to turn his entire body around before a very soggy Hermione launched herself off of the ground and into his arms. He dropped the bag he was carrying, hoisting her up into his arms, holding her as their lips collided – finally, frantically, their first kiss in what felt like years rather than weeks – the rain pouring down on them not deterring them in the slightest. Severus tasted the rain, tasted her, and something swelled to life within him.

She remembered. She knew him. She really knew him.

He pulled her in tighter as her hands found their way around his neck. The rain and the storm were nothing to him; he could have stayed this way with her forever.

A persistent rumble of thunder reminded them both of their location and they broke the kiss slowly, each seeming to savor the taste of the other as they parted, remembering, feeling, knowing. Severus felt her lips break into a smile and he looked down to see her eyes – so full of life and love – gazing back up at him.

It was one of those rare moments in life: everything felt perfect and whole and right. Severus had felt sure he would never know that feeling again – that wholeness when he was with her – even as he'd strode out to the gates only moments before to leave, prepared to never look back as he searched for answers, knowing very well he may never find any. Nothing mattered. Not the wind, the rain, nor the deep rumbles of thunder that surrounded them; they were reunited – finally – as hands touched and roamed and lips met again, softly, determinedly; both could feel the other saying I've missed you. I'm here now. I love you.

"Hermione," he murmured. It wasn't an address, she realized, so much as an affirmation that she was truly there. There were so close that she felt his lips move against hers as he spoke; crushed up against his chest, she couldn't be certain whose wild heartbeat she was feeling and quite frankly was concerned with nothing but staying near to him…never mind the torrential downpour, part of her mind said.

When the blowing wind and rain became too much for Severus' liking, he drew his voluminous cloak around them both; Hermione slipped her free arm around his middle and they walked together up the sloping lawn and back into the warmth of the castle once more.

Ah, home, Severus thought – for the first time in weeks – contentedly.

Once out of the rain and after muttering a few drying spells, they were (unfortunately in Severus' opinion) intercepted by Minerva in the Entrance Hall. "Ah, Severus!" She clapped her hands together in a jovial manner. "May I take this as a retraction of that leave of absence then?"

"Perhaps I'll replace it with a letter of resignation," he grumbled with only a half-hearted glare which earned him a light elbow in the ribs from the woman beside him.

Minerva ignored him. "Hermione, dear, I want to express my regret for not –" she paused, searching for the words. "That is to say, I feel I should have done something more to assist you in regaining your memories of the past months. I hope you will find it in you to accept an old witch's apology. To say I am happy for you – both of you – is quite an understatement," she finished, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

A certain, familiar bliss had come upon Hermione since her decision to tear through the castle searching for Severus; there were a dozen ways she could lay blame for her condition, for how prolonged it was, herself being one of those at fault. However, it mattered quite little now. Hermione smiled. "Of course, professor," she said. After all, what good did it do to blame anyone anymore?

"I'm glad," McGonagall said. "I know there is probably much more to be said –" Severus did not bother concealing his very large eye roll " – however," she said the word sharply and pointedly in her colleague's direction, her tone softening as she turned back to Hermione, "there will undoubtedly be time enough for that later."

She gave Hermione a motherly hug, tried to hug Severus ("Minerva, please!") and after once again expressing her utmost happiness that Hermione's memories had returned, the old witch finally bid them goodnight.

Everything suddenly seemed very quiet. Mostly everyone had left the Great Hall, having gone back to their rooms to retire for the night. A handful of people remained, gathered on one of tables near the giant fire place, immersed in quiet conversation. It was a sense of undeniable peace, as if Hogwarts knew that everything the unlikely-looking couple standing in its entrance hall had been through in the last months was finally over.

And Hermione smiled as she felt Severus slip his hand into hers.

The pair walked together in silence through the quiet corridors of the castle, their stride slow, almost as though they were wandering with no destination in mind.

They both, however, knew exactly where their feet were taking them.

When they reached the Head's quarters, Severus released Hermione's hand and she leaned against the closed door, watching with a faint smile as he strode over to put a fire in the hearth with flick of his wand. It was dark save for the now-crackling fire and a few clusters of candles in the sitting area. Satisfied, Severus turned on his heel and found Hermione still watching him from the door. He held out a hand, beckoning her to him, suddenly struck by a certain sense of wonder and awe as she came closer, and stopping only when they were standing inches apart. The fire's soft light danced upon the delicate features of her face and brightened her honey-colored eyes. He could not look away – nor did he wish to; she was perfect. How odd, he thought, that he should be so lucky to have her, to be loved by her. How lucky he was to have gotten a second chance from the universe – not only with Hermione's memories returning, but with his very own life. Severus had expected to die that day he stood with Potter against the Dark Lord. And now, here he was, with her, this extraordinary woman…what have I done to deserve you?

She took several steps backwards, holding both of his hands, pulling him along gently until they were both seated on the sofa. Still engulfed in a most comfortable silence, Hermione's faint smile never left her as they settled in. He raised his right arm so she could lean against him, sinking into his side with a contended sigh. She closed her eyes and let her senses get their fill of him: she could hear his quiet breathing, feel the steady rise and fall of his firm, sturdy chest, smell the intoxicating, lingering scent of potions, of spices and herbs & cologne, of everything that was so familiar to her.

It seemed a very long while before one of them spoke or even moved beyond the occasional adjustment in their seating arrangement. Hermione still had her eyes closed and had begun drifting off to what promised to be a most peaceful sleep when he heard and felt Severus' rumbling voice from behind her.

"How?"

It was a question he had wanted to ask since they'd embraced out in the pouring rain but found that he was, for some odd reason, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Hermione, knowing what his question referred to, only reached down and pulled her necklace out from where it rested beneath her shirt.

Severus looked at the small pendant and recalled their conversation from a few days previous in the garden: They had it charmed in Diagon Alley…if I ever felt homesick it would know, and I would be able to experience that feeling of...being home.

"This?" Hermione nodded, watching him. He reached out, compelled to touch it, and, despite himself, his breath caught slightly as their hands met, skin brushing, making his heart beat faster. It was old magic. Few in the Wizarding world even acknowledged its existence any longer. He certainly had given it little to no thought during his lifetime. Some would say it meant their magic was made to find one another long before they were even born.

Soul mates, Severus thought to himself.

Whatever it was, this small, charmed gemstone had brought it to life – it may very well have brought her memories back, brought her back to him.

Whatever it was, he was eternally grateful.

She noticed that he didn't seem able to look her in the eyes. "I should have tried harder to help you remember; I was a coward, Hermione, forgive me."

A dull pain shot through her heart – she couldn't allow him to blame himself for this.

"I was the coward, Severus," she admitted. "I let myself start to believe that you didn't try to tell me the truth because you didn't lo—" she stopped, unable to say the words. It was Hermione that looked down at her hands now, unwilling to peer into those deep, black eyes and see the hurt. The betrayal.

"You doubt my love for you?" His voice was quiet – sad even – nearly a whisper of words constricted in his throat. Even so, they had not released their hold on one another's hands and Hermione gripped his more securely at his words.

"I was afraid," she said, shaking her head – how absurd that sounded now. "I just – I didn't…"

She was cut off as he used his free hand to gently touch her chin, tilting her gaze up to him. At last, she raised her eyes to his; her heart leapt in her chest as she was hit with the weight of his stare – the way she could feel his every emotion pouring out of him and into her. "I was afraid as well," he confided, using his thumb to brush over her lips. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed at the contact. So long.

Her eyes still closed, she felt him replace the thumb with a gentle brush of his lips…a tender caress as his hand made its way across her cheek, behind her head, fingers intertwining in her hair, pulling her closer.

He managed to slowly maneuver her so that she lay back on the couch, never breaking their contact once. He settled above her, reveling in how she caressed those delicate down his back, the lightest feeling of her fingernails scratching over wool as she brought them back up,

"We seem to have been in this position before, you know," she said with a grin, tucking the loose strands of his hair behind his ears to reveal his own, knowing smirk.

"Indeed," he murmured, leaning into her again, also clearly recalling the memory from all those months ago: the first time he had slept through the night with her by his side, curled up in the very same spot, the gentle, dying firelight flickering before them as they both drifted off together.

Severus, moving to claim her lips once more, paused when he recognized a certain questioning look in her eyes. He pulled away only slightly, propping himself up on an elbow to better see her face. "What is it, Hermione?"

She regarded him for a moment before supplying her answer with a question of her own: "Why did Harry get his way?"

Severus heaved a heavy, dismayed sigh and hung his head next to Hermione's in frustration.

"Must you mention Potter at a time like this?" he groaned.

Hermione giggled and followed as Severus sat up again. "I know, I'm sorry - oh, do stop scowling," she joked, lacing her fingers around gently at the base of his neck. Hermione really wasn't thrilled with her own timing either, but the question had been nagging at her ever since her memories had returned: why had Severus (or really any of the rest of them for that matter) let Harry get away with deciding the fate of her memory? Even if she did understand Harry's reasoning now, never had she known Severus to willingly take anything Harry did lying down. At least not without a fight.

She had to dip her head to find Severus' eyes and was met again with that halting, intense stare.

"I won't pretend that Potter was the only reason, entitled brat though he may be; there are many things I would do differently in these last weeks, Hermione. I, too, allowed myself to think the worst: that although you had survived, your memories had not and I –" Severus faltered, unsure of how to complete that sentence.

"You began to close yourself off again," she finished for him, nodding in understanding. She knew the man he was; rather, she amended, the man he used to be – at least where she was concerned. The instinct to throw up those walls may never leave him, she thought privately. At least she knew she had a few tools at her disposal to knock through them if need-be.

He shrugged then, attempting to appear indifferent again. "Unfortunately, as much as it would please me to do so, I cannot blame Harry Potter for all of it." He was absentmindedly playing with a few strands of her hair. "Even if he was quite instrumental in making sure you knew nothing," Severus added as bitter afterthought. "Just like his father… sticking his nose in everyone's business…"

Hermione sighed and ran her hands comfortingly down his arms. "Harry is his own man, Severus. I know, somehow, you can see that..." And then she tried, "He's not James." She sat up and gently laid a hand on his arm, directing his attention back to her. "I've already said my peace about all of this with Harry, Severus." The man before her grumbled something incoherent – she was sure it wasn't very nice in the least. Nevertheless, she continued. "You have to let go of your past with James to make room for a future that includes Harry." She couldn't help but grin at the child-like scowl that had appeared on Severus' face.

"And what if I do not wish to have a future with Potter, hmm?" At Hermione's playful yet obvious expression, he nodded to himself in an answer to his own question. Severus knew he would never live in a world without The Boy Who Lived. Not while Hermione was by his side. And she was not something Severus was prepared to let go of ever again. "Because a future with you includes him," he conceded. "Of course."

"Afraid so. We're a bit of a package deal." Hermione smiled up at him. "You want a future with me?"

He gave her a rare smile and brushed a few strands of her unruly hair out of her eyes. "As long as you're willing…as long as you'll have me."

Reaching up, Hermione placed her palm against his cheek, sliding it behind his head, intertwining her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to her. She kissed him softly, gathering every emotion she possessed, every feeling, an outpouring of love. She found his hand and directed it to her chest, placing it atop her wildly beating heart, willing him to feel, to know.

Breaking away for air, they remained close and Hermione felt him grin without opening her eyes. "Does that answer your question?" she murmured into his mouth, finally resting her forehead against his. She felt his answering nod as the fire snapped and cracked in the hearth, surrounding the pair of them in its soft light, and Hermione knew she was right where she was meant to be.

It was sure, it was peace, it was home.

And it was enough.

They didn't know what the next days, weeks, or months would bring…and in that small space of time, it hardly mattered at all.

The war was over.

They were alive and they were together.

And they could go on from there.

A/N: Welp...it's been a few years, but I finally got this pesky final chapter up. I doubt it's quite up to par, but honestly (and I'm sorry if this sounds awful) I just needed it to be finished. I literally have been opening this last chapter pretty much every day, looking at it, rewriting bits and pieces, taking things out, putting them back in...it felt like I would never finish it and I made a lot of compromises with myself in the end in order to get it done. I think this is a good place to end it though. I didn't want the last chapter to suddenly feel/sound different...just in terms of how different my writing style was back then, you know? But who knows...maybe it doesn't sound different at all.

Despite all that, I'd like to say thanks to everyone who stuck through those updates and reviewed; it is, of course, always such a joy to read your feedback. As for the future, I'm currently trying my hand at something a bit darker...and I will definitely wait until I have it mostly all written up before posting though (lol). Hope to see you all again soon!