Epilogue

Nineteen Months Later

-oOo-

Nicodemus Nibbs looked like the sky had fallen in; judging by the state of his flat, the assumption wasn't entirely unreasonable.

“Who- Where- What-” he spluttered incoherently at the intruders, who currently were busy turning his belongings upside-down in supreme unconcern at his sudden return.

“Darling, we seem to have company,” the shorter of them blithely informed her companion, who seemed entirely preoccupied with smearing a viscous blue liquid on his hands. When it appeared to be done to his satisfaction, he started rubbing his palms together.

The woman – the uninvited visitors had their backs turned on him, but even before she had spoken Nicodemus had decided that anyone who didn't cut hair like that off before it went feral must be a woman – was rifling through what looked very much like the cigar box he kept his paperwork in. The one that usually was hidden under several layers of very nasty wards indeed.

“Who are you?” he finally managed to squeeze out.

“Oh, do excuse our manners,” the taller one replied with contempt he didn't even bother hiding. Something in the chilly, meticulous way he spoke stirred Nicodemus' memories, which were aided further by the almost empty glass bottle parked on top of the fireplace.

“You're- Oh, bloody hell, it's Snape and Granger!”

“Give the man a cigar, Hermione. Or maybe not – in his infinite stupidity, he decided to store incriminating documents instead of Havanas.”

“One despairs of the criminal classes sometimes,” the woman replied, still with her back turned to Nicodemus, who wasn't having a very good day.

“Oh, no...” he moaned. “Not you two - I heard what you did to Uxley...”

“Severus, dear, it seems like we have acquired a bit of a reputation.” Granger had the gall to sound amused, and Nicodemus finally recalled that he was in possession of both a wand and a fairly nasty repertoire of spells. Before he even had time to raise his wand at Snape – the man had killed Dumbledore after all, he was clearly the bigger threat no matter how clever Granger was supposed to be – he was hit by a Stunning spell and crashed to the floor.

The last thing Nicodemus heard before losing consciousness was that odious voice; it reminded him of Hogwarts and dank dungeons and failing Potions again.

“Almost adequate this time; at least you are showing some improvement on your wandless spells. I had almost given up.”

---

“You're one to talk – you've had twenty years more to practice! Really, Severus,” Hermione replied in exasperation, smirking a little at the way he still flinched when she reminded him of the years between them. It served him right for being condescending, the bastard.

A book zooming past her temple and straight into his hand made her duck, and wiped the smirk right off her face.

“Severus, not where I'm working,” she complained half-heartedly. “I'm delighted that our Summoning potion works, but it's really getting on my-”

Severus was busy jotting something down in a tattered moleskin notebook and Hermione could tell he hadn't heard a word. Their mission today was effectively complete with the apprehension of Nibbs. At the moment, they were looking for something to lead them to whoever was behind all this; a bonus, as it were. As the case was finished there was no reason why she couldn't sidle up to Severus to kiss him; that would definitely grab his attention. Nibbs' flat made her skin crawl, however, so she decided against it; it wasn't the place for anything even vaguely intimate.

Hermione had never been the type for public displays of affection anyway, not even at Hogwarts. Ironically, if she had met up with someone for a furtive bout of snogging back then it would probably have been Severus who would have caught them and doled out the inevitable bout of detentions. There was a thought: if anyone deserved some belated snogging under the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts, it was Severus. If she had a word with Minerva first, they could sneak in at night the next time they had a few weeks' leave from the Ministry-

“Stop plotting, woman.”

“I am capable of doing two things at a time, you know,” she replied, but in a tacit admission that she had been slacking off somewhat Hermione attacked Nibbs' haphazard collection of tickets, notes and newspaper clippings with renewed vigour. As she was reading through a particular puzzling account of a pair of escape artists found dead in Swindon (could Nibbs possibly have been involved and held on to the clipping as a trophy?), she absent-mindedly twisted the delicate silver-coloured ring on her left hand round and round.

It was still a surprise to find it on her hand; she had only been wearing it for two weeks. Thinking of the ring and what it entailed was a serious threat to her efficiency, however, so she buckled down to do some work and put the circus artists aside as an unexplained anomaly for the time being.

It was Severus who broke the companionable silence next, with a sharp intake of breath that made Hermione toss the train ticket to Perth for the 24th of November aside and traverse the room a little quicker than the average Muggle would have been able to.

“What is it?” she asked gently, taking in his stricken face.

“Look – the idiot has written it all down. If it wasn't for the execrable handwriting he may as well not have taken any precautions at all.”

Hermione tried to decipher the almost illegible scrawl on the dirty piece of parchment proffered by Severus, and burst out laughing.

“Park Ridge Mobile Home Park in Alexandria, Louisiana,” she announced, after confirming for herself that Nibbs really was stupid enough to have written down the name and address of the mastermind of the criminal network he belonged to. Bubbling over with laughter, Hermione tried and failed to remain coherent; the stony expression on Severus' face made it impossible to stay serious. “This time we can get matching tracksuits!”

“I fail to see how this can be considered even remotely amusing,” he announced in frosty tones.

“And to think that our pardons for the last time only came through in March!” Hermione was unstoppable. “We can even get a permit to do magic this time-”

“The beer is horrible and the food even worse.” Severus closed his eyes as if remembering something excruciatingly painful. “Not to mention the detestable perkiness pervading all aspects of social interaction-”

“You're not coming then? I could talk to the Ministry...” Hermione rudely broke off his reminiscences and Severus looked affronted.

“Of course I'm coming. Which part of 'for better or for worse' did you not understand?”

“The bit where it says it's valid before we actually get married, apparently.”

Severus looked at her with a familiar expression of exasperation and tenderness, and suddenly she didn't really care that Nibbs seemed to accept living under conditions even a troll would have deemed unacceptable. Of course Severus would consider a vow to love and cherish her binding before he even had taken it; it would have been foolish to expect anything less.

When they broke apart Hermione was rather breathless and they still had several hours' work left before they could dump Nibbs in the arrest at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but the slight blush tinging Severus' throat made it all worth it.

---

I thought I was finished with these two when a review from Jadecadence made me think again and this scene just came to me. This really is the end, though!

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Reviews are most appreciated :)