A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed, and a hug to kizzy7, who is a great friend and didn't moan about the truly shocking spelling errors in this chapter!

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Severus stretched his longs legs out in front of him and opened that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. There was very little news, apart from the new Minister of Magic taking up his post. Severus snorted and thanked the gods he was no longer in England. Having to answer to Harry Potter might well have tipped him over the edge. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten that Harry's input had released him from the Ministry's clutches all of those years ago, but it had been years since they had breathed the same air. Hermione had maintained some contact for a while, until the children had come along and absorbed her attention, and Severus knew they still communicated occasionally via the Muggle mail system. But Severus had grown into a grumpy old man. Better to hold onto his old grudge and be comfortable than to create new ones at this time of life.

The sun shifted higher, casting its rays over Severus's newspaper. With an annoyed grunt, he squinted and raised his gaze. His eyes were drawn, as they always were, to his garden, and with a huff, he pushed his creaking bones off the sun lounger and decided to take a tour. He lifted the battered straw hat from the table beside him and rammed it onto his head, not caring that he looked ridiculous. It was stained and patchy, with small holes gnawed out of the rim, and old, flaky bits of straw fell from it each time he put it on. Hermione was always on at him to get a new one, but their first-born, Carla, had bought it for him with her first official pocket money. For Severus, it was worth it's weight in gold.

Stretching his legs,Severus walked to the arbour and deadheaded a few of his roses. The passionflowers were just starting to open, and his memory was jogged as to the upcoming date. Forty years of marriage needed a gift, he mused, making a mental note to slip down to the market before the weekend. He moved on through the arbour and down the sandy path to the lemon grove.

The largest lemon tree towered over the others, and he smiled slightly as he remembered planting it with Hermione the day after they had moved into the house. It had borne two lemons that year, and Hermione had squeezed them to within an inch of their pith, insisting that they drink the first glass of lemonade together. They had planted another tree for each child thereafter. Carla's tree was graceful but robust, it's glossy green leaves turning towards the sun. Ella's tree was more shy and retiring, grown as it was in the shade of Carla's, but no less important. And Dante's tree. Severus frowned slightly. It had grown the strongest and produced the most fruit over the years. It was proud and tall, planted a little further away than the other trees for some reason, but the lemons were sweeter. Severus shook his head slightly and moved on down the garden to check on his herbs.


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Hermione lifted the pot of moisturiser from the window ledge and scooped out a soft dollop with her index finger, awkwardly replacing the lid. The scent of lavender and chamomile drifted to her nostrils, making her sneeze as she rubbed the unctuous mixture into her hands. She was still rubbing as she stepped out of the kitchen door and into the bright sunlight and scanned the garden for Severus. It was time for his potion, and Hermione knew he would purposefully forget to take it if she didn't remind him. The ravages of time could be eased but not stopped and it still amazed Hermione that Severus Snape, of all people, would develop arthritis in his knees in old age. Patting the vial in her apron pocket, Hermione gingerly picked her way down the stone-strewn path around to the back of the house. Severus was in the potting shed, his straw hat dipping up and down in front of the shelves as she walked down the path. She paused only once, watching sadly as he took his time to stand and rubbed at his knees with the flat of his palms. She still loved him with a passion, and to see him age had been a great shock to her. Not that she hadn't aged herself. In fact, she had gone grey before Severus had found his first grey hair, a fact that had caused him to smile smugly at her on more than one occasion.

He must have sensed her presence, as he turned and raised his hand in a wave. Waving back, she increased her pace until she reached the shed and then leaned against the doorway.

'Are you okay?' she asked with concern.

'Stop it,' he muttered. He couldn't be doing with her fussing.

'Sorry,' she murmured, pulling the vial from her pocket carefully. 'Here,' she said, handing it to him without catching his gaze, pretending instead to be interested in his seedlings.

'More lavender,' he grunted as he unstoppered the potion and drank it quickly. Hermione slipped her hand in his and took the vial. Severus didn't let her go so fast, however, and held onto her fingers, squeezing them gratefully. Their eyes met, and Hermione smiled warmly at him.

'It's almost lunchtime,' she said quietly. 'Walk back with me?'

Severus took a last look at his new plants and nodded, following her out of the shed and closing the door firmly behind them. He took Hermione's hand in his, and they walked slowly back towards the house in companionable silence.


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Carla walked around the side of the house and watched as her parents trudged up the path. Her hearted melted as she saw her father take her mothers' hand, and she smiled to herself. She had never known a couple as much in love as her parents. She could only hope that she and Enrico would be as happy in the years to come. She looked down at Severo, who was pulling at her hand in excitement, his dark hair swinging around his head.

'Can I, Mama?' he whispered again.

'Sure. Just go carefully. Don't knock Grandpa off his feet like the last time, ok?' She smiled at him indulgently as he turned his grin to her, letting go of her hand and running excitedly down the path.


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Severus and Hermione watched with pride as their daughter spoke gently with her son. She looked every inch the Italian Signora with her long, black hair, white linen suit and designer sunglasses. Marriage to a businessman suited her, and she certainly enjoyed his money. She never forgot her roots -Severus made sure of that- but his attention was taken away from his musings as he watched his tornado of a grandson plummeting towards them.

'Here he comes,' Hermione murmured, laughing as Severus muttered an 'oh fuck' under his breath.

Severo was lithe and taller than most six year-old boys. He was also the spitting image of his grandfather at the same age, and Severus couldn't resist a grin as he came within shouting distance.

'Grandpa! Grandma!' he shouted, his face bright with joy. As he came closer, he slowed to a jog, remembering his mothers' words, and then he threw himself on Hermione's legs, wrapping his arms around them and squeezing tightly.

Hermione grinned down at him and ruffled his hair. 'Hello, darling,' she said.

Severo pulled away and smiled up into Hermione's face, and she bent to give him a quick kiss. As she stood, Severo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and made a face. Severus fought the urge to laugh out loud, but he winked when he caught Severo's eye.

'Hello, Grandpa,' Severo said politely.

'Severo,' Severus bowed his head and held out his hand. 'Walk with us and tell us all about school, young man.'

Severo smiled and took his grandfathers' hand eagerly as they began to walk again. He was still chattering away as they entered the house.


The End

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