Written for an exchange, didn't really fit the bill, don't really know what happened. Merry merry.

---

Sleigh bells jingled merrily as Severus stepped into the small, cheerful shop. The air was so full of spices that he imagined his clothes would smell of gingerbread for the rest of the week. He stomped the sludgy snow off his boots, onto the cute "Welcome to Honeydukes" mat. He hated Christmas shopping, but chocolate was an easy out for the rest of his measly list.

"Gutten-ta!" came a chorus of cheerful, squeaky greetings. There was a row of elves behind the case of chocolates. They were grinning up at him even as their fingers moved ceaselessly above piles of bright ribbons.

"Hello," Severus answered. Three years since the final battle, and Munich's Honeydukes, the oldest of them all, was still the only one in operation. Severus knew enough German to get by, but there was no point in trying to blend in when he already stuck out like a sore, dark, black-clad thumb among the fair, majestic-looking, local patrons.

"Oh! Please wait!" One of the elves, adorned with a particularly knobbley and colorful knit hat, popped out of sight.

"No," Severus explained. "I do not require assistance, I simply-" he stopped abruptly at the perplexed expressions on their faces. "Nein, muss ich nicht helfen-"

Pop! The crack of a wizard apparating into place behind the counter was all the warning he got. It was Hermione Granger, in an apron, holding a wooden spoon coated in chocolate. Her pleasant and prepared smile disappeared the instant she realized who her English-speaking customer was.

Severus was too surprised to speak. He just stood there, staring at her.

"Good evening, sir. Would you like to sample some of our Stollen?" Hermione held her hand out to one of the house elves, who placed upon it a small doily and a little chunk of bread. She held it out over the tall counter.

Severus pulled himself out of his muted state of astonishment. He had spent the last three years, since just shortly after the final battle, searching for her. "Hermione, I am so sorry," he said.

She stared at him, her palm outstretched. The ticking of the Swiss-made coo-coo clocks and the jubilant waltz music seemed too loud. "Here, take it," she said.

He snatched the Stollen quickly and popped it into his mouth. It was dense, full of spices, raisins, and thickly lined with almond paste. "That is some of the best marzipan I've tasted."

She smiled. "And it's all sugar-free!" The thin line of the scar that started near her right eye and disappeared under her blouse paled when she pulled it tight with a grin.

"So that's why your parents keep offering me candy. Hermione, I need to talk to you." Severus glanced at the elves, who were all staring intently back.

"You visit my parents?" Hermione asked in amazement.

"Yes, I visit your parents," Severus said. "I have interrogated every witch, wizard, and Muggle who means something to you, and they seemed to know more than anyone else."

"So they gave me away?" Hermione asked.

"No," Severus answered. "I have been searching this area. This is one of the last countries I've searched. And this is one of the extremely rare half hours that I have not devoted to sleeping, eating, and looking for you."

Hermione's expression softened. "I'm sorry you had to go through so much trouble. Of course I'll speak with you. Just come on back around the counter here."

Severus quickly rounded the counter corner and slipped past the row of elves. He followed Hermione as she limped to the back of the shop, to the kitchen, where she put her spoon in a massive, square sink and turned to him.

The kitchen was enormous, with three large tables laden with loaves of Stollen. An oversized cauldron full of chocolate, which Hermione apparently had been working with, was set near the sink. The room smelled like warm bread, butter, and chocolate. It was much quieter and darker than the front of the store. "Hermione," Severus started slowly, "I did not mean for things to work out this way."

"Me neither," Hermione said brightly. "But look how wonderfully they turned out! I thought I, or at least half of the people I care about, would be dead, and instead, I own my own shop, complete with fully liberated house-elves!"

Severus' temper flamed in an instant. "But you never contact your friends and you're running a sweet shop, for Merlin's sake!"

"How I run my life is my business," Hermione said staunchly. "Besides," she said, turning to the sink and setting her spoon down gingerly, "I'm happy. The business is doing great, Germany's so interesting…" she trailed off. Instead of turning to face Severus, she started washing the spoon.

All Severus could think to do was ream her with guilt trips about her friends, family, and most of all, himself, but he knew it wasn't his place to say anything. So he stood there, glaring at her as she very deliberately scrubbed hardened chocolate off a spoon.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she finally asked.

"Buying Christmas gifts."

Hermione smiled lightly. "I remember when you used to brew potions for gifts."

OOO

Severus was speedily completing a batch of Pepper-Up Potion, his hands darting to add the sloppily chopped ingredients as quickly as possible. He was in too much of a hurry to pull the dragonskin gloves out of the cabinet and had to snap his fingers back before any of the random minor explosions of chili powder could burn him. "First, you say you do," he sang in a voice so low and quiet it was almost a hum and at a tempo to match his brewing. Usually, Severus was slow, methodical, and took every precaution, but these potions – Pepper-Up, Ne'er-Sleep, Dreamless-Sleep, Warm-Up, and Hangover-Cure – were Christmas gifts. Severus just didn't have time to waste, especially not on a useless, idiotic tradition.

"And then you don't," he muttered, stirring the cauldron's contents furiously. It wasn't quite the right shade of grey, but that wouldn't affect anything but the taste, and Moody hardly had a sense of taste.

A timid sound broke through the clouds of rising steam and interrupted his song. "I love Ella Fitzgerald."

Severus looked over his simmering cauldron of Hangover-Cure and saw Hermione Granger standing in the doorway. She looked a little nervous, staring at the potions as if his gaze was too intense. Severus turned his attention back to the Pepper-Up Potion. He suddenly felt all the power of his disguise; the power to treat anyone as he chose. "She wasn't the first. She actually remade a 1920's song."

"Oh," she answered, surprised. She entered his field of vision, and then began examining his potions. "My goodness, you've got a lot going. Do you need any help?"

"No, thank you."

"I can chop bat's eyes remarkably well," Hermione said, indicating the pile of unprepared ingredients for the Sleep-Away Potion. "I had plenty of practice at Hogwarts."

Severus smirked. "Fine," he said, handing her a sharp blade, "demonstrate."

Hermione started slicing confidently. "So how long have you been a member of the Order?"

"I was part of the old crowd," Severus answered, "but I've been away until recently and was rarely able to attend meetings."

"Well, my name's Hermione Granger," she said brightly.

"Mine is Frederick."

"Are you German?" Hermione asked curiously. "I can't quite place your accent."

"Yes," Severus answered, "but now that Dumbledore's gone, I've moved to London."

"Why?"

Severus paused in his potions ministrations and studied her. Hermione was looking at him with real interest. She was staring at him as if every word he said was important. She'd always been that way during his lessons, but never since that very first day in Potions, nearly eight years ago, had her expression been so unguarded and eager. But she was older now, just finished with Hogwarts, training for war, and her eyes were quicker, more appraising. Severus watched them warm to his clean, imperial German features. "Although Dumbledore trusted me and was able to accept my help from afar, he thought it wise for me to take a more active role in case of certain eventualities in order to maintain a healthy relationship with the other members of the Order."

"Ah," Hermione said with a slight tilt of her head, and then turned back to her work.

For the next half hour or so, until the potions were finished, they worked in relative silence. Severus couldn't decide whether she was there because of his good looks or her natural desire to help everyone. If the former, she didn't gaze, or even glance, at him more than was necessary, and if the latter, she must have realized fairly quickly that he was a more than competent brewer. As they began cleaning up, she asked, "so are you the one who's been brewing our specialty potions since Snape left?"

Severus dearly wanted to correct her with "Professor Snape," or perhaps "Master Snape," as he was a teacher no longer, though still a certified Potions Master. Instead, he answered "Yes."

Then, shockingly, she turned her dark brown eyes full upon him and hopefully asked "Will you be here tomorrow night?" She was so transparent. She had some sort of crush on him already. It was no wonder, come to think of her social life; stuck here with her two mulish best friends, learning how to defend herself and hardly ever allowed out for fresh air. Why wouldn't she want him? He obviously had some intelligence (as evidenced by his brewing), as an Order member, he was a hero, he was generically attractive, and had good taste in music. The only reason Severus could find for her possibly not being interested was his age. He had used the hair of a man his own age when brewing the Polyjuice Potion, but that didn't seem to bother Hermione.

Struck with wonder at her attraction to him, despite its logicality, the words burst out of Severus before he could check himself. "Yes, I'll be here."

OOO

The next night, Severus came, nervously swallowing a draught of Polyjuice before he entered the hideout. Hermione was just inside the door, waiting for him. "You aren't going to brew any more of those simple potions, are you?"

"No," Severus said, striding down the dark hallway, with her at his heels. "Those were Christmas gifts. I've actually been working on a much more complicated project – Felix Felicis."

"Wow," Hermione said in awe. "My Potions Professor back in the sixth year was able to brew that. I know not many wizards are capable. How are you getting all the supplies? They're rather expensive and difficult to find, aren't they?"

Severus was amazed. He hadn't imagined it; she fancied him. She was rambling on twitchily, like the schoolgirl that, were it not for war, she still would have been. And she spoke of her sixth year as if she were trying to create the impression that it was more than one year ago. "How old are you?" Severus asked maliciously.

Hermione looked a little affronted as they stepped into the small library where Severus had been brewing the potions. "I'm eighteen. How old are you?"

Severus felt a bit affronted. He knew she'd been cautious around him as Snape, but was she really this blunt with everyone else? "I'm twice your age."

"Well, now that age has been established, would you care to tell me what stage you've reached in your project?" Hermione asked in a clipped voice, clearing away a few books that had been left on the apothecary table.

Severus drew a small bag from his pocket and used his wand to enlarge it. The main ingredients of the potion, some of which had to be precisely carved, pickled, transfigured, or constantly monitored, swelled to size on the table. Hermione examined them one by one while Severus explained about the potion. Within minutes, they were deeply involved in all the intricacies of prep work. Again, they worked without much talking, preferring instead to devote their entire attention to the project on hand.

Severus grew so absorbed that an hour passed with his hardly noticing. It wasn't until his fingers – always the first to go – began to grow longer. It was lucky he was using his hands, because otherwise he might have been disastrously distracted by the strangely pleasant sensation of working beside someone whose work he could trust and against whose skill he could measure himself. She was obviously no match for his skill and experience, but everything she did, she did with infinite attention to detail. He took a flask from inside his robes. "Would you like some?" he said, offering it to Hermione, knowing full well she wouldn't take it.

"I don't like to drink when I'm working, thank you," she answered, and turned back to her work.

Severus smiled. He thought her answer very funny. He would like very much to see Hermione drunk, and doubted she had ever had more than a sip of her parents' wine. He drank some, shuddered, and went back to tending to a live alfalfa plant.

Some time later, as she began chopping ingredients again, this time with even more care than the night before, Hermione scooted a little closer to him. Severus stiffened at first. He suddenly became uncomfortable. This whole thing was ridiculous. Amusing, yes, and at a time when he had precious little to amuse him, but ridiculous. He could smell her hair – vanilla, maybe? Coconut? An hour went by with him debating with himself whether or not to step away.

When the time came for another dose of Polyjuice, Severus decided it had been enough for one evening. It just was not worth the irony of the whole situation to spend any more time brewing potions with her, or being polite to her, or feeling awkward near her. "Well, I think that will be all for tonight. Thank you for your help," he said. "You have been extremely well-trained," he added, the self-praising compliment he'd always been tempted to give her at Hogwarts.

"Thank you!" she said brightly, and stepped back when he took over the cleaning up.

Severus nodded and continued refastening jars and gently packing the more delicate ingredients. He felt her eyes on his back.

She stood there, watching him shrink the project again, and chewed on her bottom lip. It wasn't until he was all packed up and had started to walk away when she said "Frederick?"

"Yes?" Severus said, stopping and turning to face her.

"I need to do some last-minute Christmas shopping tomorrow. I'm desperate, but no one has time to escort me. I hate being coddled all the time like some invalid," she added sourly.

"It's for your own protection," Severus said automatically.

"Yes," she agreed, "but it means I haven't been able to get gifts for Harry and Ron. They've been with me both times Molly's taken us shopping, you know. Anyway, I was wondering if you could take me. It would just be a short trip to Diagon Alley, nothing extensive." She looked up at him hopefully. Severus noted that despite her tentativeness, she stood just a little too close, demanding all of his attention. Her face was incredibly sweet, begging to be indulged. "Of course, I know you must be very busy," she added a moment later, sounding somewhat defeated.

"No, not at all," Severus admitted, almost involuntarily. He didn't want to see her disappointed at his rejection. He had seen it often enough at Hogwarts to have a clear picture of it in his mind. What he didn't have, however, was the image of a Hermione overwhelmingly relieved and happy with his words. A huge grin broke across her face.

"So you'll take me? Oh, thank you! Can you come at ten tomorrow?"

He nodded and swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry.

"Oh, Frederick, thank you!" She smiled some more, and then, to his amazement, she grabbed his arm, bounced up, and kissed him on the cheek.

OOO

Severus was there at ten, as promised, feeling more troubled than he had in months. The night before, he had stayed awake recounting each word and look he had given Hermione since she first came into the library two nights earlier. The truth was he had encouraged her attention, even acted as if he felt the same way the night before. He wasn't sure why he'd done it, really. He didn't have time and wasn't the type of man to flirt with kind, innocent girls. He wasn't doing it for revenge against her and her friends for the misery they'd added to his days at Hogwarts. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that, even as a good-looking member of the Order, no one at headquarters had really warmed to him. He felt so much more himself there, in disguise, than he did when he was himself with Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but he felt all the wariness of the other Order members. They had known of him, but he had only started attending meetings that summer. Aside from his unknown status, many of them were focusing on people they already cared for, instead of making new friends that they might lose very shortly.

Hermione burst out of the front door. "Just in time! Let's hurry! We might even be able to get back before Harry and Ron wake up. We've all been given today and tomorrow off." She rushed down the ice-slicked stairs, pulled him along with her. They slipped into the nearest alleyway and, giving each other nods, disapparated at once.

They landed a moment later outside the brick wall that led to Diagon Alley. The entire row had been warded against apparation for fear of a Death Eater attack, and with good cause; it was Christmas Eve Day, and packed.

"Would you mind visiting Flourish and Blotts first?" Hermione asked, tucking her arm into Severus'. He felt a thrill at her arm in his. It was a cold day, with fresh snow on the ground, and he could feel the warmth of her arm through their thickly lined robes.

They entered the bookstore and immediately went upstairs. The main floor was crowded with last-minute shoppers buying popular volumes. Upstairs was mostly devoted to unusual books and those required for research. Severus wondered what Hermione planned to find for Potter and Weasley up there.

"I have a confession to make," Hermione said, stepping away from him and down a deserted aisle. She was making sure to hide her face beneath her mane of curls. "I've already got Harry and Ron's gifts. They're wrapped and ready, under my bed at headquarters."

Severus felt heat rush to his face. It was a very good moment to say something along the lines of "You're a very nice girl, Hermione, but I want to clarify that that is the only way I think of you" or "Damn you, Gryffindor. Why don't you utilize a little more subtlety so I can reject you without damaging your pride" or "If it hadn't been for this war, I would still be your teacher" or "I am Voldemort's right-hand man and you're a Muggle-born" or even "Well, back to headquarters, then." Instead, he followed her down the aisle. He didn't say a word.

Hermione snuck one furtive glance at him and, seeing that he'd heard her, sighed and started examining the books in front of her. "It's warm in here, isn't?" she asked, pulling off her robes and using her wand to shrink them before stuffing them into her pocket. She wore a red, long-sleeved top of such soft-looking fabric that it was all Severus could do to keep from reaching out and touching her. He flushed again. It had nothing to do with the fabric. He had never seen, or at least never noticed, Hermione without her robes, and her figure, in that soft top and blue jeans, was long and slender, complete with handsome curves.

Severus walked back down the aisle and stepped out of sight. He stood there, at the end of the bookshelf, and wondered how the fuck this had happened. He hadn't meant for her to like him, he hadn't meant to be nice, and he certainly hadn't meant to be checking her out. She appeared in front of him, looking thoroughly excited. "Look what I found!" she said, presenting an old, dusty book. How to Perfect the Luck Potion was the title. She flipped through the pages, upsetting a small cloud of dust. "Do you want to see whether you've done everything right so far?"

She looked so good holding that book, standing there in her Muggle clothes, looking up at him so eagerly, and so discerningly. She was staring at him as if he were the most enthralling – and slightly perplexing – thing she'd ever seen. Without thinking, Severus leaned forward and kissed her. He had no intention of kissing for any serious amount of time, but the moment his mouth met hers, the book fell to the floor and her arms wound around his neck.

She must have prepared for this. Her lips were softer than any cream, and when she opened her sweet, warm mouth, it held the faint reminder of cinnamon. He closed his arms around her waist, pressing her to him. The feel of her body against his made him almost warmer than he could stand, but he pulled her closer still.

Then, without warning or mercy, pain raged in his left forearm.

He yanked away from Hermione in surprise, stumbling back until he thudded into the end of the bookcase. Hermione stared at him, stunned. Severus struggled to get control of his features. That shouldn't have happened. The Polyjuice Potion effectively gave him a clean body. There was no scar to burn. But Voldemort's message had somehow broken through, which meant the Dark Lord had realized Severus was in disguise. A cold sweat broke across his forehead.

Hermione, looking concerned, stepped up to him. "Frederick, look. I'm not stupid. I know something's been holding you back, but you shouldn't let it get in the way. Molly's told me you're not married, and it doesn't matter how old you might be. It's pleasant to be around each other, and there's a reason for that. We should enjoy each other while we can."

Enjoy each other while we can… the words echoed in Severus' head. Fresh waves of pain shot through his arm. As he did each time he was summoned, he felt panicked, like this time, he surely would be found out. If that were true, they had very little time indeed. Severus reached out and fisted a hand almost violently in her hair. The other closed back around her middle, bringing her harder against him than she'd been before. He brought his mouth down roughly onto hers and pushed his tongue past her lips. Then, pulling back, he said, "Hermione, take care of yourself, do you understand? Take care of yourself."

Hermione looked extremely confused. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, several screams sounded from downstairs. Severus only stayed long enough to make sure her wand was out before he turned and ran down the staircase. Downstairs, customers were running every which way. Some were fighting to get back into the safety of the shop while others were pushing to the front, trying to escape. Severus had no doubt about what was happening. Voldemort must have attacked. He shoved his way through the crowd and ran out into the street.

Death Eaters had been working in small numbers, with giants and Inferi, since Voldemort's return, but this was different. There hadn't been a mass of Death Eaters of this size since the Quidditch World Cup. But rather than spinning people rather terrifyingly, but essentially harmlessly, in the air, they were simply marching down the street, cursing anyone who stood against them. At each store entrance, a group of Death Eaters would break off from the group and enter the shop. Severus could see many of the stores were up in flames, with wizards tumbling out by the dozen. Some looked fine; the owners had simply complied with whatever demands they were given.

Severus did not know what was happening. An operation of this magnitude should have been discussed with him. He felt the dread mounting. His felt his fingers growing long again. It would only be a minute before the rest of his body changed. People were running past him in droves. He slunk back into the alleyway beside Flourish and Blotts. There were several witches and wizards crouched at the end of the alley, but Severus was able to get some privacy by turning and facing a corner made by the wall and a huge crate that had been left to rot.

He gritted his teeth through the transformation and left quickly. The Death Eaters were growing near. As he stepped out of the alleyway and approached the group, several of the Death Eaters saw him, pointed their fingers at him. Then one of those little groups broke off, presumably to take over Flourish and Blotts, but instead of heading toward the shop entrance, they trained their wands at him and fired off a set of hexes. Severus leapt out of the way. His wand was already out and he began sending curses back at them.

Everything started to speed up. Remus Lupin was beside him, fighting with him. Severus looked around to see Order members everywhere, dueling for all they were worth. With Lupin's help, Severus was able to fend off the group of Death Eaters that had turned on him. Their masked and robed lay stunned on the street. Lupin grabbed his arm and forced Severus to look at him. "Severus, I don't know what you're doing, but now is the time to stick to one side."

"Why are they here?" Severus shouted. As effective as this attack was, it did not seem well-planned. If it had been, whatever alarm system that informed the Order of the attack would have been disabled.

"We think they've been tracking Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and Hermione was here shopping this morning" Lupin said, and giving him a quick searching look, ran after the large group of Death Eaters.

For a moment, Severus could not move. People ran past, jostling him. Then he sprinted back into the bookstore. It was almost completely empty inside. Two Death Eaters were at the other end of the floor, with their backs turned to him. He stunned them quickly and ran up the stairs. There were more Death Eaters up here, four of them. They were standing in a semi-circle around something on the floor, blocking his view. "Stupefy, stupefy," Severus was able to stun two before the others turned around. He made meat of them in a few short seconds, though, and ran to see Hermione.

She looked like she'd almost been ripped in two. There was a deep rip in her flesh, starting at her face and continuing down the red top and jeans. Blood blended with the top and pooled on the wood floor for at least a foot in every direction. She was pale and unconscious. Severus tried using his wand to seal the gash, but nothing happened. He scooped her up, cringing at the blood that dripped to the floor as he turned and ran, searching for the nearest Order member.

OOO

He'd staid by her side in the hospital wing. He'd snuck in after the Healers had helped her and her friends had trickled out, headed for parties and booze. He knew she would not want him there; she hated him as himself and she hadn't even known Frederick. But he hadn't been able to stop himself from following the Healers who'd transported her to St. Mungo's. So he slid in, and took the chair by her side. He studied her lovely face. He even dared to close his hand over hers.

"Hermione," he said. "I know you can't-" he steadied himself. "Hermione, you must grow past this. Learn to live with it. Find a way to survive and prosper. You have to do it for me or I can never-can never," he paused for a long moment, trying to figure out how to explain it, "…really live."

And he hadn't been able to live, not really. He'd spent the three years since Hermione's disappearance from St. Mungo's searching for her. He was trying to find her to apologize for his horrible mistake. It had cost her a lung, kidney, many crushed ribs, a leg so severely scarred it would be too stiff to move easily, and years of pain. He'd learned that this particularly nasty spell was designed to inflict lasting torment. It took many times the normal wait before the recipient could start to recover.

But she looked perfectly happy, standing there, smiling at him.

"I still brew potions for Christmas gifts. I actually have your last three with me," he said, pulling them out of a pocket. He handed her a large vial first. "This one numbs pain." Next, he handed her another. "This speeds recovery." And lastly, "this one combines a cheering charm and sympathy draught. I thought it might be useful when I asked your forgiveness."

"For what?" Hermione asked, setting the vials on the shelf above the sink.

"For leaving you there, for not realizing why I was being summoned then, for being too late."

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said. "I want to know why you tricked me into feeling for you." Her voice grew sharp. "I cared for you, you know. I didn't know why, but you seemed so unhappy. Why would you use your disguise that way?"

Severus felt his jaw drop. "I did nothing. You initiated everything."

Hermione's face twisted into a frown. "You kissed me, and then when everything was mostly over, you didn't visit me. I know you were able, Lupin told me. You didn't visit me that night or the next. You didn't visit me on Christmas day."

"You disappeared on Christmas day," Severus said fiercely. "Who's to say I wouldn't have come then? Instead, you went to Germany, of all places. What do you think you're doing here, anyway?"

"Look at my scars!" Hermione said, pointing to her face. "Have you ever seen a recovery this quick? There's a specialist here in Munich. You should have known that if you really were looking for me."

Severus had known it, of course, but he hadn't liked the idea of her being here, the specific region where the real Frederick had been born.

"Didn't you ever-" Hermione said softly, "Didn't you ever think you might be hurting my feelings?"

Severus' suddenly felt more weighted than he'd been before. "No, I did not. You were attracted to a man who doesn't exist, or at least not in completion. You should have been able to recover from that much more quickly than from your injury."

"You look perfectly complete to me," Hermione said.

Severus scowled at her. "Don't make jokes."

"What is your problem?" Hermione huffed, throwing her hands up in the air.

"For the past three years, it's been trying to find you," Severus snapped. "You could have been dead, if it weren't for your parents' reassurances. I do not understand why you chose to isolate yourself."

"I needed to recover," Hermione said. "I needed to simplify things. The pain was extraordinary. I had to deal with it day-to-day. I didn't have energy for the distractions of my old life. I would have tried to do everything still and driven myself into a relapse. I found a job here, making chocolate. I didn't even have to learn German. The old owners were English. They passed away. I got the store. Things happened. I just haven't been ready to go back yet."

"Why not?" Severus asked. "You look healthy."

"I am healthy," Hermione said quickly. "I just wasn't ready," she said evasively. "Anyway, why am I explaining myself? You still haven't told me why you did what you did and then never visited me."

"Hermione, you were eighteen," Severus sighed, and then winced at the sight of her crestfallen face. "But more than that, you didn't know what you wanted. You latched on to the first good-looking, available man who came your way."

"That is not what happened," Hermione said firmly, almost angrily. "It wasn't just your looks. And I didn't latch onto you. You were just as interested, weren't you? Tell me I was imagining everything, and you weren't just as responsible!"

"I was not trying to displace blame. I shouldn't have encouraged you-"

"Why not?" Hermione demanded.

"I knew you never would have been interested had you known Frederick was a disguise. You would have been disgusted and despised me for deceiving you. It was just three short meetings. It shouldn't have mattered this much."

"Stop saying things how things should and shouldn't have been," Hermione cried. "We were happy together. Of course it mattered! It was next to impossible to find any sort of happiness back then. I haven't met anybody since who interested me so much, and it wasn't just your appearance. It was feeling appreciated around you. You knew I was capable, intelligent, and you responded to my interest." Hermione looked almost desperate with trying to explain how she felt. She stared at him levelly. "Why have you been looking for me, really? My parents must have told you I was doing fine, so why are you here?"

Severus stared back at her in horror. This was not the way he'd planned things. He'd wanted to find her on his own terms, to apologize, and if she was doing well, if she was recovered, and free, and available – but he'd barely allowed himself to think that far. It had been flights of fancy on lonely nights. He'd been lonely ever night, but that didn't matter. What mattered was his plan had been to take his time, to see whether those few encounters all those years ago had been as wonderful as he remembered.

Severus had never been easy to read, but the panic must have shown on his face because Hermione lit up in triumph.

"Don't look so smug," Severus hissed sharply. "This sort of discussion was not my main objective. I know, of course," he said hurriedly "that you could not have treasured those memories the way I do."

"That's just it!" Hermione exclaimed almost wildly. "I did, that whole time. I have, for so long!"

Snape stood, stunned. "No," he whispered.

"Yes! Yes, of course I do!" Hermione answered.

Severus recoiled quickly. "No. You don't even know what you're saying. You don't understand what I'm saying and you can't-"

"Honestly," Hermione insisted, "I can. Those nights we spent together, that time with the truth of anonymity. I've never felt that way around anyone else – so elated, so warm, so – "

"comfortable," Severus finished.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "at least when I wasn't thinking about how close you were or worrying about whether you felt the same."

Severus had thought so hard and dreamt so often about the way those words would sound and the look on her face when she said them to his real face, but he had never been able to convince himself of those dreams ever becoming reality. Hermione looked up at him, open and honest. Her perfect, clean, little face – her hair, spiraling away in every direction – even her stance, so close and demanding, was exactly as he remembered. He found himself wondering how he could have gone years without her near, and how she managed to best all of his romanticized recollections.

The only difference about her, besides the expected scars and the chocolate-smeared apron, was the twist of sorrow in her eyes. Severus knew it was a reflection of things past, and not just his own doing, but the cruelty of the rest of the world. It also warned of things to come; her friends and family's reactions, him having to struggle to win their approval, and worst, explaining to her all the details of his past. Severus had never wanted anyone to look at him with that sadness, so feeling it almost amounted to pity. But now, it seemed the only way she could feel for him him: with some sort of soreness. And how he wanted her to feel for him, even if it was only a fraction of what he felt for her. "Do you really want me?"

"Yes!" Hermione cried, almost laughing with relief. Tears spilled quite suddenly down her cheeks. "Why didn't you ever believe me?"

Severus grabbed her up quickly. "I should have," he said, pressing his mouth against hers for the first time in years. "I just didn't think it possible when you understood everything."

Hermione hugged herself tightly to him. "Knowing everything makes me care for you more, Severus."

Severus buried his face in her hair, digging his fingers into it, wondering whether any of it got in the chocolate.

"I've always wondered," Hermione said thoughtfully, her breath rushing against his neck, "why that particular disguise?"

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

Hermione giggled. "It was your singing at first, actually."

Severus smiled into her hair. "I could have sent the Order anonymous information, but it would be difficult for them to trust such a source. A handsome, strong-looking man, on the other hand, is much easier to trust. But if you thought Frederick's voice was good, you're in for a surprise."