Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and places in this story are borrowed from the works by J.K. Rowling and copyrighted by her and her corporate affiliates. I intend no disrespect (quite the contrary) and no commercial use of this work is intended nor is any revenue being made from it.

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Luna Potter turned to her husband.


“All set, sweetheart?”


“Yes,” Harry replied through clenched teeth as he placed his daughter on his broom. “And to think I would end up using my Quidditch skills to transport screaming children to tedious parties. Rose, sit still on the broom or I will ask your godmother to turn you into a frog.” Under his breath he added, “'Cause they don’t leap as quick.”


“I’m sorry, dear,” Luna said airily, “but everyone knows that Apparating while pregnant is a bad idea. It was only last month dad told me about a witch from Sweden who Apparated to work throughout her pregnancy and ended up giving birth to seventytwoplets. And seeing that Rose is quite a handful….”


“I know, love. This is fine. Let’s go. We don’t want to keep people waiting and you know they won’t start without us.”


Harry and Luna kicked off from the ground in unison and steered towards the bright lights of London.

---

Hermione Granger emerged from the Apparition foyer. The ballroom was brightly lit, crystal chandeliers sparkling, silk and taffeta rustling in the exposé of the wizarding world’s finest. In the midst of ball gowns and festive robes a cheerful four-year old sped towards her.


“Auntie Hermy! Dad says you can turn me into a frog. Please do. Please, please, please!”


Hermione pursed her lips with mock severity and bent down to her godchild. “Rose Potter! I will do no such thing,” she said sternly, but as the little girl started pouting she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “however, if you behave well tonight I might consider turning your feet green and webbed. Mind you, no screaming, no playing with the food and no running down the house-elves or the deal is off.”


Rose nodded solemnly and as was their custom they shook hands on their agreement before Rose skipped off again.

Hermione turned around and took in the assembled crowd. A dark figure caught her eye. Severus Snape stood by the staircase, glass in hand, and watched her unashamedly. Black suits him, she thought when their eyes met. A tray appeared next to her and she took the offered glass without breaking eye contact. Her plan was a simple one, but not without some sophistication, she thought in a moment of self-satisfaction. Seven years worth of training against a master of words and tonight she would need it all. Hermione downed her drink quickly and with a deliberate sway, she strolled towards her hooked-nosed adversary. As she reached the staircase, he raised his glass a fraction to salute her.


“Sauntering are we?” His voice, barely above a whisper and slightly derogatory as always, slid over her tympanic membrane like a silken kerchief.


Many years ago, before age had proved to her that physical beauty did not equate to a good man, she had wondered how someone so deficient in looks could sound so seductive.

They knew each other now, and Hermione refrained from replying that she had thought more in terms of stalking her prey.


Instead she smiled snidely and said, “You are quite mistaken if you thought I was idling here by chance. On the contrary, I am here to tell you that I have knowingly robbed you of your anticipated pastime of tonight.” She paused for effect. “We broke up two weeks ago.” Her smile turned triumphant as she searched his face for any sign that she had been right in her assumptions.


His response left her no wiser on that point. With an air of studied bewilderment, the black-clad wizard retorted, “And to what do these accusations pertain?”


“Accusations?” Hermione arched an eyebrow in a fair imitation of her adversary. “That word indicates the possibility of reasonable doubt, of which there can be none. No, I am merely pointing out a fact.” She sipped at a fresh drink before taking a step closer. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from him and to be sure he would hear every word she said, even if she kept her voice low. “Every year I come to these Anniversaries and every year you take great delight in pointing out what you consider to be the manifold deficiencies of my chosen consort. Inevitably, I leave with my head full of doubt and the relationship ends in disaster. So, this year I come alone and you may save your breath.”


“Are you charging me with scheming against your domestic felicity?” His demeanour was neutral, but his eyes gave him away. The dark tunnels contained a distinct glint of amusement.


“I most certainly do,” she said. “Had I chosen to appear with the same man each year, I might have suspected it was he who aroused your displeasure. But a different escort every year, for seven years in a row? Professor, even you are not that condemning upon your fellow men. I accuse you of my present state of singleness.”


Her tone was light, but she could feel the worried pace of her heartbeat. These were deep waters. She had fully expected him to back away from her. Her intention had been to stand just a little too close for his comfort. He hadn’t retreated though, and she suddenly found that his scent, discrete and pleasant, distracted her.

The haughty superiority with which he looked down on her was distinctly designed to make her insecure, but Hermione was determined not to be intimidated.


With a glint of approval, he said, “That is a grave accusation indeed. Do you intend to present any evidence of this alleged crime, or were you counting on my immediate surrender to your preposterous charges, based on your feminine allure alone?”


Hermione willed herself not to falter. Had Severus Snape just told her she was alluring? She schooled her features, feigning indignation. “If you will bear with me tonight, and I do think you owe me that much, I shall methodically and beyond reasonable doubt, prove your disastrous influence on my love-life.”


He offered a sliver of a smile and Hermione was almost certain that he looked well pleased. “I can think of less pleasant ways to spend an evening than listening to an accomplished, young female talk solely about me,” he said, and took a sip from his own drink.


While Hermione found his display of male self-assuredness a tad insinuating, his eyes, resting on her black-clad form, were a study of neutrality. She was spared the need to retort by a festively dressed Lee Jordan heralding that dinner was served. Without further ado, Severus Snape put her hand in the crook of his arm and started towards the dining hall. She followed, electing not to comment on his lack of manners in not asking her permission.


This year’s lavish table decorations were in white and gold. Hermione, in black velvet, and Snape, in his perennial black robes, stood out like two ravens on a snowy plain where they sat at the edge of the honorary table.


“I will allow you one small confession regarding your status as a single witch,” he stated as he pulled out her chair, “I do rather enjoy finding you available for conversation without the dubious compliment of jealous gazes every time I deign to inflict myself upon you.”


Hermione smiled benevolently, but not until the bustle of the customary greetings and introductions had died down, and the solemnity of the Silent Minute had been observed, could their conversation resume.


“Should we start from the beginning?” Hermione said as the elf-made, white wine was being poured.


“Really, Miss Granger, I cannot believe you grieve for the dismissal of Mr. Ronald Weasley? He accompanied you at the first of these tiresome social affairs, did he not?”


“Actually, he was my date for both the first and the second Anniversary,” Hermione reminded him. “You were still in St. Mungo’s at the time of the first one, so my relationship with Ron managed to survive for almost three years.”


“And after almost three years of felicitous bliss, just how is it that my apparent ill opinion caused the vacuous Mr. Weasley to fall from your good graces?” Severus Snape said as he started on his salmon canapé.


Hermione donned her best barrister demeanour. “Ron and I got on very well,” she said, admonishing him for his criticism of her red-headed ex, “we are still close friends and we had a lot of fun. He is a good and honest man. I might have lived happily ever after with my school sweetheart if you had not spent the entirety of the second Anniversary pointing out what I was missing out on.”


“Well, you will have to admit few people manage to live happily ever after with their first love. I have seen far too many fellow men leaving their partners in their thirties or forties in the mistaken belief that they are missing out on something.”


“And you would claim they are not?” Hermione asked, “Missing out on something, I mean.”


Severus Snape looked suddenly grave and Hermione cursed her own tactlessness. How many women had Severus Snape had over the past eight years, or ever for that matter? None that she knew of, and judging by his reaction “very few if any” would probably be a fairly accurate guess. She ventured a look at her partner at table and realised she was being quite preposterous. If she found his wit enticing and his fluid movements suggestive, who was to say she was the only one? She forced an indifferent smile and decided to dare a small gesture of her true intentions for tonight. Her hand strayed to his. Her fingertips met his in the lightest of touches before she withdrew again. It could have been incidental, she still had deniability, but at some level Hermione Granger hoped that he would understand. His acid voice broke the spell.


“Be that as it may, your case so far is very unconvincing. Where is your evidence?”


Hermione immediately rallied her spirits. He wouldn’t get her on this one.


“What about lines like, ‘Miss Granger, would you please remain seated and not challenge the salivary glands of Mr. Wood further. It is a pity that drool is not more frequently used in potions, I could have gathered a year’s supply from him alone.’ Or maybe you will recall your retort to dear Neville when he stood in your way? ‘Mr. Longbottom, would you care to move, or have you planted yourself here in the hope of it being the queue to gain Miss Granger’s attentions?’ Well, what have you to say?”


“Only that you have a remarkable memory,” Snape conceded, sounding entirely unrepentant.


“I have still to confront you with my personal favourite from that night.” She cleared her throat and said, in the most sarcastic voice she could muster, “No, Miss Granger, I will not dance with you. I do not wish to endanger my newly earned acceptance in the wizarding world by having to injure all of the aspiring knights with shining faces that would, no doubt, immediately try to save their princess from the dragon.”


His long-fingered hand pinched the bridge of his nose, obscuring his mouth, but Hermione could have sworn that he had just suppressed a grin. “Actually, that was my favourite too,” he conceded, and he did indeed sound amused.


Hermione smiled curtly. “You admit it then.”


“The comments? Yes. However, I will not be held responsible for your reaction to them. That is your own account.”


Hermione bowed her head in reluctant admission of his point.


“Well,” Snape continued, “I presume it suits a keen sportsman like Ronald Weasley to hold the record for your bestowed affection.” He gave a self-depreciatory smile. “How unsavoury to think my slow recovery may have added to his triumph. May he soon be defeated.” He lifted his glass to her.


“I’ll drink to that,” Hermione stated, quite energetically.


As they put their glasses down, she cleared her throat. “As for the third Anniversary....”


“Ah, Mr. Well-read Selfpraise. I do remember him.”


“Wilfred Sellprice, Severus,” Hermione scolded. She gave him a sideways glance to see if he would mind her using his first name. He only smirked, and encouraged by the acceptance she continued, “I will take that comment as a partial confession. Yours is the fault that I am not the wife of a highly successful Ministry official. Would you not agree that a man with academic interests and an intellectual air would be suitable for me?”


“That would be suitable indeed, which proves why you should be pleased not to be married to that pompous, self-important, dunderhead.”


Letting out a small laugh in spite of herself, Hermione responded, “You were most effective that year. How was I to take the man seriously after you exposed him so cruelly?”


“Exposed him? I merely conversed with him. He needed very little encouragement to dig his own grave. It is seldom a good idea to pretend more insight than you have. The only knowledge really worth having is the knowledge of one’s limitations. Did he complain to you that I was being impolite?”


Hermione frowned. “Of course he didn’t. He congratulated himself on having had such an attentive audience to his own droning.”


“You do not seem to care much for him now that the scales of infatuation have fallen from your eyes, so why accuse me? Do you so begrudge an old man his little amusements?”


Hermione’s head jerked up as if he’d struck her. “You are not an old man, Severus Snape,” she hissed.


With a contented air, reminiscent of a cat newly fed, Severus Snape’s deep voice purred, “But you, Hermione, are still a young woman. A young, single woman.”

---

“Look at that!” Sally-Ann said, with thinly veiled disgust. “What on earth does she see in him?”


Angelina looked casually over her shoulder at the indicated couple. “Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, you mean? Oh, rumour has it that she’s had a bit of a crush on him for ages. Didn’t you know?”


Sally-Ann looked suitably scandalised at Angelina’s suggestion. “For ages, you mean ever since school? Who told you?”


“Morag MacDougal,” Angelina grimaced, “the tried and true expert on juicy slander. She even suggested that he might have taken...might have been Hermione’s first, I mean. But that’s bollocks if you ask me.”


“Pity for her, if she wants him.” Sally-Ann shrugged. “All men want to be a woman’s first. I can imagine Snape would be the kind of man who’d prefer a woman that hadn’t been used. And Hermione has had…well, Merlin knows how many guys.”


Angelina looked at her with incredulity. “Used? My God, Sally, did Witches’ Lib skip your house, or what? Besides, she hasn’t had all that many. About ten over nearly a ten year period, I’d say. That doesn’t make a woman a slut!”


With a smirk, Sally-Ann smoothed down her skirt and added primly, “My mother always said that the greatest gift a woman can give to a man, is her virginity.”


“Which explains why your fiancé is a ....” Angelina started hotly.


Fortunately for the festive mood, however, she was intercepted by Luna, who had returned to the table with Rose safely tucked under her arm in time to hear the exchange.


“I bought Harry a self-cleaning owl cage this year.” All eyes turned gratefully towards the pregnant blonde. “And he seemed to appreciate it,” she added thoughtfully before releasing her daughter, who immediately slid away between the tables again. “One should never presume that everyone is the same. After all, someone likes cockroach clusters, or they wouldn’t sell.”


“Who said 'cockroach clusters'? I love them!” Lester Ruislip, the venerable lawyer, exclaimed and the conversation turned to sweets.

---

Hermione gave Elphias Dodge a smile - his story had been rather amusing - before turning to her other table companion.


“Where were we? Oh yes, my relative youth. Now, that takes me on to the fourth Anniversary, when again, you seemed bent on ridding me of my escort. Did you think he was too old for me?”


Snape looked somewhat puzzled. “Who?”


“Priscus Sunnyhill, the Healer. You know, I have always been considered advanced for my age, and a few flings I had earlier that year had convinced me that I could only be satisfied by a man in possession of some maturity. Priscus was in your year, did you know that?”


“Yes, he was, and though I would not deny your conclusion about the suitability of a partner with a bit of life-experience, Miss Granger.... or am I, as a compensation for allowing this highly irregular trial, allowed to call you Hermione?”


She affirmed that he could and he continued.


“Well, as I said, age is a prerequisite of, but by no means a guarantee for, maturity. I suspect you noticed as much that evening.”


Hermione shot him an icy look. “Grown men playing with fireworks, you could both have been killed, you know. I had no idea he would be so easily provoked, but then again, Severus Snape, you are a very provocative man.”


“So I have been told. Although, I think I have, at times, done little to deserve the attention I have received from troublemakers.”


Hermione sighed theatrically. “Anyway, he married Kittynella Broom last summer, so my chances of enjoying quiet evenings discussing theories on how to heal curse-damage with my husband are forever gone.”


“Are they really? There are men in possession of both maturity and healing skills for injuries incurred by the Dark Arts.”


Superficially casual though it was, the statement had a profound effect on Hermione, who dropped her fork on the floor in sheer nervousness. She was prevented from picking it up by a hand on her thigh. Severus leaned to the side.


Accio fork.


Slowly, as if reluctant to leave its new found resting place, his hand withdrew and she shivered as the very tips of his fingers lingered on the black velvet a moment too long, then were gone.

Instead of using magic, Severus Snape retrieved a pristine, white handkerchief from the recesses of his robe and wiped the fork clean by hand. Hermione stared, mesmerised at this attention to her cutlery.


“I believe this is yours,” he said politely as he handed it over to her.


The clinking of cutlery against glass made further conversation impossible for a while. Cordelia Speakwell, Minister of Magic, was about to make a speech. Severus turned in his chair and Hermione donned a solemn look and prepared to pay attention, if not to the speech, then to the beak-nosed profile so conveniently placed in her line of sight.

---

“Good speech!” Harry offered. “Better than that tedious one at the seventh year Anniversary. Do you remember?”


Ron made a face. “The speech? No. Falling asleep in front of everyone? Yes.”


Harry laughed at him. “And Hermione was sitting across the table and kept trying to kick you awake. Who did she bring that year?”


“Can’t remember! Sylvester Stilch-Cheeseblatt maybe? Speaking of which, we really should have a go at getting Hermione a good and steady bloke, Harry. The characters she’s come up with over the years....” Ron made a disgusted face. “Do you recall that evil slime, what was his name, Batterbond something?”


“Montmercy Batterbond.”


“Yes, that’s the one. I thought we’d lose her for a while there. What the hell possessed her to choose someone like that? ”


“Don’t know for sure, but I remember her going on about how romantic he was when they started going out. You know, flowers, candles, the works. And it all happened so fast, with him moving in and all.” Harry looked around for Hermione. He spotted his friend by the other end of the table, obviously engrossed in conversation with Snape. “She’s sitting next to Snape tonight. Do you think he ever told her what he did to Batterbond?”


“You bet,” Ron retorted, “he’s probably bragging to her right now about how he scared the bloody wanker shitless, demanding her eternal gratitude, no doubt. The greasy bastard!” A sheepish grin spread across Ron’s features. “He was pretty brilliant though. No mercy for Montmercy. He isn’t going to feel inclined to bother Hermione again in this lifetime, and I don’t blame him.”


“Batterbond or Snape?” Harry queried.


“Batterbond, of course,” Ron said, right before digging into his potatoes.


Harry nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he won’t be bothering her, or any other woman, for that matter. He got sentenced to Azkaban last year for abusing his wife. Unforgivables, he’ll be there for a long time.”


Ron passed the gravy to Tonks before replying. “Pale Wilson was a lot better, but he could never keep up with our Hermione. What she needs is a bit of resistance, loving resistance, mind you,” he continued, the last part of his speech only slightly muffled by fresh potatoes in mint sauce.


“And just when did you become an expert in human relations, Ron?” Harry said, surprised rather than derogatory, as he continued dissecting his meat.


“Well, actually I overheard Susan and Luna talking about it, but I think they are right. There must be someone we know who we could introduce her to.” Ron speared some asparagus with his fork and regarded it sceptically before shoving it into his mouth.


“I doubt that Hermione would appreciate us trying out our matchmaking skills. Besides, from the look of it, she and Snape are having one of their discussions again. I’d sooner walk through the Forbidden Forest dressed up as a sausage than get caught in that cross-fire.” Harry hesitated as a thought announced itself from the recesses of his mind. “Resistance, did you say?”


Ron cast a disdainful look in the same direction. “Yeah, we can’t have her wasting her time with battling Snape at times like this, or she’ll die an old maid. Come on, Harry, there must be someone we know.”


Harry cast Hermione and Snape a quizzical glance and didn’t answer.

----

“I’d really prefer not to talk about him.” Hermione looked down at her plate.


“You have no need to feel ashamed.” The voice of Severus Snape was dry, but the hand that covered hers felt warm and compassionate. “You were not to blame.”


Hermione looked up and gave him a brittle smile. “You’re sweet sometimes, Severus.”


An air of dismay settled over the face of said man. “I am most certainly not sweet,” he protested and withdrew his hand, much to Hermione’s disappointment. “And I hope you will excuse my inappropriate gesture. You were only half-way through your case against me, I believe, and I have no wish to add ‘obstruction of justice’ to my list of crimes.”


Dessert was being served and Hermione quickly composed herself. “Well, Karl Mann then.”


Snape chuckled softly, “Ah, the man’s Mann.”


“The very one, you do realise that I would have been the envy of witches everywhere had I stayed with him?”


Snape shrugged. “Perhaps, but that is the slight flaw, isn’t it. You didn’t stay. How many times did he cheat on you before you gave him up?”


“You mean, apart from the woman he was kissing on the balcony at the sixth year Anniversary? If I had harboured any idea that the interesting constellation you wanted me to see had nothing to do with stars, I would never have followed you there.”


Snape smiled that cruel, little smile that told her he had enjoyed the occasion. “You are dodging my question, Hermione. How many?”


Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I don’t know, I never asked. Perhaps there never were any others. I am not prone to jealousy. We might have lived happily ever after if it hadn’t been for your meddling.”


“If you had actually believed that you would have stayed,” Snape stated haughtily. “I am not ashamed for opening your eyes to the true nature of that man. Besides, would you really have enjoyed having almost half of the wizarding population wanting to apprehend your beloved.”


“It wouldn’t have been the first time people wanted to get their hands on a man I valued, albeit for different reasons.” Hermione’s retort was out before she could think better of it.


Damn, she was trained to keep a level head in an argument. She was a barrister, for Merlin’s sake! What was it with this man that made her slip up? It was futile to think he would not suspect that she was talking about him. Judging from his unperturbed, self-satisfied air he was, however, pleased with her comment.


“You will have to excuse me for a moment. Courtesy dictates that a man cannot spend all his attentions on his lady at table, but must spare some for his other neighbour.”


Hermione said something non-committal, a little distracted by the knee that had just, seemingly incidentally, made contact with hers. As he turned away she tensed, realising she had no idea who was sitting on his other side. Her trepidation was short-lived, however, as she saw Molly Weasley’s smiling face turn to Snape and heard her start the annual update on the latest generation of Weasley boys.

---

The knee was still there a couple of minutes later. The lightest of pressures would do it, Hermione thought, just enough to find out if he was aware of their bodies touching. The eyes that met hers, and the continued contact under the table, was enough to confirm the touch was not accidental. Hermione’s throat felt suddenly dry and she picked up her glass for a quick sip of her tepid port.


With a muted cough, she caught Severus’ attention again. Bashfully, she placed a hand on his upper sleeve and leaned in closer to whisper, “May I continue my case or are you still yearning to know more about young Gregory’s potty training and little Paul’s missing front tooth?”


Severus’ groan was equally discrete. “Accuse away, anything short of an actual sentence to Azkaban would be preferable to more Weasley trivia. I swear they are intent on filling every crevice of Hogwarts with their offspring, like a plague of locusts.”


“Don’t go biblical on me, but I see what you mean. Paul is a great kid though.”


“Do you like children?” Severus asked politely.


“Not on principle,” she admitted, “but I am constantly being told I will think differently of my own, and children are people, too. I actually know quite a few I can abide very well. I would most definitely like to have children of my own one day. However,” she continued in a sharper tone, “I am particular about them having both a mother and a father, which brings me back to tonight’s topic.”


“The seventh Anniversary then,” he said, as the waitress refilled their glasses.


“Karl Mann took some getting over and I’m afraid poor Sylvester didn’t quite deserve what he got.”


“The doting one?” Severus did not temper his contempt. “On the contrary, anyone who presents their heart on a silver platter with a hammer next to it deserves having it crushed.”


“That is very cruel of you, Severus,” she said regretfully, “and of course that is exactly what I did. Did you know I broke up with him after your query as to whether I liked being the kind of person I had become with him? He was drunk for a fortnight after we split up. Penelope Clearwater told me.”


“It would have taken an angel not to wield a power so readily renounced.”


Neither the steely tone, nor the taint of bitterness, was lost on Hermione. So, she thought, he has been there as well. Her second glass of port was now drained and Hermione started to feel the cumulative effects of the wine she had consumed over dinner. Drinking tended to make her amorous and she decided to push on while she was still in control.


“You realise that things are looking quite bad for you at the moment. Your odds at getting acquitted seem slim, at best, with two partial confessions and an overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence so far.”


“Perhaps getting acquitted is not my main priority in participating in this little game of yours,” he replied. “But do go on, I am finding this most informative. Already I know that you prefer an experienced man with intellectual interests. Can I also conclude that you are by now cured from any girlish overemphasis on good looks and romantic behaviour?”


Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I think you may. The few really good-looking men I’ve met in my life have either been boring, cheated on me, or been downright bad people.” In response to Severus’ raised eyebrow she clarified a bit. “A lot can be said about the Malfoys, but few would deny that both father and son are handsome to the point of beautiful. I know I shouldn’t be generalising, but it has made me suspicious of men who look too good. And Montmercy Batterbond cured me permanently from overly romantic men. Did you know that when sweet, dear Colin Creevey sent me flowers, I nearly freaked out and accused him of being possessive? Needless to say, ours was a fling of short duration.”


“And so Mr Rival escorted you last year instead.”


Hermione nodded and would have said more, but at the high table Harry rose and ushered silence. Hermione barely heard his words. Her mind was focused on the hand of one Severus Snape, casually placed on her lower back. He held it still and the touch was light, but the very casualness with which he had marked his territory was what made her nerve-endings sing.


Harry was not one for long speeches and soon he announced that dinner was over. The music started and house-elves started to break the tables.


Snape turned to her with his shadowy smile and begged an excuse for not taking the floor, “My apologies for not asking you to dance, but my leg will not allow anything this fast. However, I am sure there are others who will oblige.”


“Oh no!” Hermione exclaimed, “I am not letting you go now.” She put her arm under his and firmly led the way to a couple of comfortable chairs, placed opposite the dance floor. “Have a seat! I am not finished yet,” she scolded through pursed lips. “Yes, Buddy Rival escorted me to last year’s Anniversary, and wasn’t he my perfect match? Well educated, Muggle-born just like me, working in a good position for Gringotts and quite keen to settle down with someone.”


“Such perfection,” Severus drawled ironically, “and yet you claim that I made you doubt the advantages of tying the nuptial knot with him. Was it not your wish to always play admiring audience to your husband’s successes, to retain full power over household and children so those duties would not hinder him in his climb towards fame and fortune? How very unfeminine of you, Hermione.”


“Enough! Your sarcasm will not work with me, Severus Snape! I know very well who told him that I made more money than he did. And I also happen to know that the very same person mentioned to him my status as a wartime hero no less than eight times during the evening and topped it off with enumerating my NEWT grades. He dumped me, and it was all your fault!”


Snape leaned forward in his chair and caught her chin in his hand. His voice was low and menacing, but his words sent a bolt of joy straight through her. “Don’t tell me that you weep for the loss of his company, Miss Granger. The man was a dolt. If he could not rejoice in being chosen by an accomplished, brave and intelligent woman then he did not deserve her.”


It was not his words alone that made her blush, but the realisation that the warm but rough palm holding her face made her lips ache for him to be closer still. She felt her body move unbidden and her eyes growing heavy-lidded as she leaned in closer to him.

But the kiss never came. Instead, he cleared his throat and Hermione straightened herself and blushed at the approach of her good friend's very pregnant wife.

Hermione’s embarrassment was completely overlooked by Luna Potter, who conjured a chair beside them.


“My, that looked cosy. I so wish I could see a bit more of Harry at these events, then at least I’d know if Rose really was lost or if she was just with her father. So sorry for disturbing you, but I just have to sit down for a while.” She patted her big belly and flexed her wrists which sported straps decorated with the same green and orange flowers that covered the toes of her outrageous, lilac stilettos. Luna stared miserably at her feet. “Why aren’t there any foot-shaped shoes for party use?”


Hermione opened her mouth but got no further than, “Where...” before Luna flew up from the chair, which disappeared with a pop.


“There she is,” she exclaimed, and pointed towards the orchestra stand. “I’ve got to catch her before she finds the drum set. You go ahead and kiss Hermione, Professor Snape. Weren’t you about to? She’s wanted that for years so I don’t really see why you shouldn’t. Have fun!” And she was off.


Hermione fumbled after her wand. She would hex Luna, then jinx her and then…. She felt his hand cover her own.


“Don’t! I have taken quite a liking to that woman over the years. Not in the least because I could not think of a worse fate for any man than being married to her. And seeing as she chose Mr. Potter…” Snape’s voice broke off with a rather evil smirk.


Hermione let go of her wand. The slender fingers caressing her hand sent little bolts of joy through her stomach.


“I think Harry is prodigiously pleased with his marriage,” she said, unable to think of anything else to say, nor to stop from grinning like a madwoman.


The music started to play a slow-fox and without another word Severus stood. Her hand was still in his and she rose and put her other arm on his shoulder in response. They seemed to float out on the floor. Hermione savoured every inch of their proximity: the feel of his breath on her temple, the slight pressure of his hand in the small of her back and the solid feel of his body through the woollen fabric.


“So, did you tell Pale Wilson that you broke up with him to get back at me? I’m asking in case I will have to reinforce my wards. I seem to remember he was as good at Charms as he was useless in Potions.”


“No!” Hermione swallowed. “I told him I was in love with someone else. He took it very well. We were friends, too much so, in fact. In the end it felt rather more like sleeping with a brother than a lover. Awkward, really.”


“And are you?” Severus asked softly. “In love with someone else, I mean.”


“I am,” she stated boldly, leaning back enough to have a full view of her partner’s face. He returned her gaze, but kept his silence.


She took a deep breath. “I have presented my case and I hereby claim that you have wilfully and repeatedly interfered in my love-life causing me to discard perfectly eligible men or making them discard me. The body of evidence may be considered circumstantial, but is there not such a pattern to these circumstances that there can be little doubt that you are the cause of my present, and much loathed, state of singleness?” She breathed again and bore her brown eyes deep into his black. “How do you plead, Severus Snape, guilty or not guilty?”


He allowed himself a sly grin as he bent his head towards her and whispered in her ear, “Guilty, guilty as sin.”

---

Hermione regained her balance by grasping the shoulder of her partner with the desperation of someone drowning. Her heart pounded so hard that she felt the beats must resound through the entire ballroom.


In as calm a voice as she could muster, she said, “You do realise I could hardly allow such a transgression to go unpunished?”


The music stopped, but Severus did not let go of her. Instead he said, in a tone of perfect seriousness, “I am at your mercy. You would do well to remember though, that while revenge may be sweet, restitution is also a principle of justice.”


He let her go so suddenly that she stumbled right into the arms of Nicholas Dawlish who, quite pleased, swept her away in a quick-step.

---

“Mummy, we can’t leave. Auntie Hermy promised to turn my feet froggish. I don’t want to leave.” Rose Potter stomped her little feet to emphasise her point.


Harry looked at his wife and then out at the dance floor. “Auntie Hermione is dancing, darling,” he ventured in a kind voice, but his daughter was not so easily swayed. Following her father's gaze she spotted her godmother and set off so fast that neither Luna nor Harry had any chance of catching her.


“Let her be, love!” Luna rubbed her aching back. “Two more months to go! Was I really this big with Rose? I feel like an elephant already.”


“You are beautiful,” Harry whispered lustily and rubbed her belly with great affection. “If you would only let me, I’d keep you pregnant always.”


“Which reminds me, I need to get a new pair of shoes.”


Harry pulled away, indignant at the implication. “I said pregnant, not barefoot and tied to the sink. I have no intention of robbing the Ministry of their future Head of the Department of Mysteries. It is just that you look so lovely, lovable.....hell, I guess I just love you.” He kissed his wife of five years affectionately before starting off to extract Rose from the dance floor.

---

Hermione felt the tug at her dress.


“Rose! Oh, I’m so sorry. I almost forgot.” She let go of her partner and Rose immediately grabbed her hand. Hermione smiled apologetically back at Dawlish. “I’m sorry, I’ve promised. Thank you so much for the dance.”


With a nod of excuse, she took Rose aside, simultaneously scanning the room for the man she wanted to talk to. How could he have let her go now? Rose tugged at her skirt and Hermione composed herself and turned to the task at hand. She squatted next to her goddaughter.


“Remove your shoes and your socks,” she said sternly, and with an air of utter solemnity she waved her wand expertly whilst uttering the transformation spell.


Rose looked at her feet with eyes the size of teacups. “Wow!” She crouched onto her haunches and prodded the web between her toes with her index finger. “Cool!”


She didn’t protest when Hermione lifted her up and gave her a kiss before handing her, and the shoes and socks, over to her father. Harry smiled at his old school friend. “We’re going home now. It’s a bit late for Rose and Luna is tired. Will we see you at Neville’s wedding in August?” Hermione nodded distractedly and Harry patted her arm. “See you then, if not sooner. Take care!”


Rose waved. “Night, Auntie Hermy!”


Hermione just smiled and waved back. Before she could start fretting about her missing middle-aged delinquent, she felt a hand on her arm and Severus’ voice was in her ear.


“Have you contemplated my punishment?”


She spun around and he caught her hand in dancing position, but Hermione shook her head. “Let’s go outside.”

---

The night was dark and quite chilly for spring. They walked away from the crowded hotel entrance, along the street, and stopped by an ancient-looking lamp-post which dutifully cast a soft, yellow glow over the cobbled stones. Hermione tried to steady her nerves. She was so close now. A few more words and she would have her answer. But when she had it, the game would be over and there would be only the reality of an old dream either crushed or fulfilled. His cloak moved in the evening breeze and she stepped closer, putting her hands against his chest.

In an indifferent voice, completely at odds with her stance, she resumed where they had left off.


“Do not think that your plea will reduce your sentence. This crime has been premeditated.”


He nodded, a sardonic smile playing in the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”


“And the act has been repeated several times, over a considerable amount of time.”


Another nod.

Hermione felt her hands tremble. She couldn’t do this. What if he cringed from her, or even worse, laughed at her proposal; for that was what it was and he would know it, too. The silence stretched between them and Hermione leaned her forehead against the fine wool of his robe as if to take a run before the big jump.

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders gently. She tipped her head to look at him. Severus Snape looked down at her, but this time there was nothing intimidating about his gesture.


“My sin is grave indeed and I would not oppose you, were you to demand restitution. In actual fact, I offer you just that. And in view of the seriousness of my offence, I can only hope that you will not accept anything less than a lifelong atonement.”


Hermione’s breath caught as she saw the glittering diamond in his hand. She nodded slowly and he let the ring slip onto her finger.

---

Harry and Luna stepped out into the almost deserted street. Rose was sound asleep on Harry’s arm.


“Did you take the bag, Luna?”


“Always,” his wife responded absentmindedly, and pointed her finger in the direction of the couple under the street lamp. “Did you know that the foreplay of hedgehogs takes almost a full day?”


“No, darling. How do you know such things?”


“I happened on a couple of hedgehogs, who were sniffing and circling each other, once. I stayed on because I wanted to see them mate, but in the end I had to leave to eat something. When I got back they were gone.”


Harry looked at Luna with a fond smile. He loved the way her brain worked; in big circles, but always with the relevant topic firmly placed in the centre.


“Nine years, Harry. I’m glad we didn’t take that long to come around.” She frowned. “By the way, what would you consider the greatest gift a woman can give to a man? And please do not say ‘a dragon’, because our house is too small.”


Harry stretched out his free hand to touch her swollen belly. “That’s an easy one; to carry his children, of course.”


Luna looked at him quizzically for a moment before she sighed and patted Rose on the back. “All right, hand her over.”


-------------------------------------------------------
Author’s note: My thanks go to my betas, Azrael, Hedgehog and Hells456, who have all, in different ways, increased the readability of this story. Any remaining errors are my own fault. My thanks also to Snapeaddict for her truthful criticism of earlier drafts and to Shiv and Southern Witch, who, unbeknownst to themselves, inspired me to write this story through their comments on WIKTT about whether Severus Snape would prefer Hermione to be a virgin or an experienced woman. My personal opinion on that issue ought to be obvious from the above.