Hermione stalled so suddenly at the sound of Ron's voice coming out through the kitchen window that Ginny almost dropped her end of the huge apple basket that they carried.

"It's a waste of time," Ron opined. "She's gone mental, ever since... Well, y'know. Three months an' all she does is sleep an' read an' play at making Potions."

Ginny's eyes darted to Hermione's face. "Ron's an arse. Don't pay any—"

"And she wouldn't let Mum wash those nightshirts either," Ron continued. "Wore them for six weeks before Mum went through their room while she was in the bath."

---

"And every time you try to talk to her you get your head bitten off," he added.

Hermione slammed open the back door. "And I wonder why that might be?"

"Come on, Hermione," Ron protested. "You weren't that bothered about Krum when you were off flirtin' with some other bloke at Perce's wedding."

"I didn't want him dead."

"None of us wanted him dead," Harry interjected calmly. "But it was him who died, not you. Look, we came because we heard about another Snape sighting. Come with us? Just the three of us—"

"Hey! What am I?" Ginny demanded.

---

"Forget it, Gin!"

"You're not the boss of me, Ron Weasley!"

"Ginny," Harry protested. "You're too young."

Hermione Levitated the basket of apples into an out of the way corner and slipped unnoticed from the room while the other three argued.

It took Ginny ten minutes to follow her upstairs and Hermione allowed herself the beginnings of hope.

"Hermione?" The knock was tentative. "Are you alright?"

"Ginny," Hermione sighed. "I'm not going to drown myself in the bath. Go with them. I'll make myself a sandwich and have an early night."

"Mum said—"

"Molly's not here."

"But—"

"Go..."

---

She hesitated with her fingers an inch from the door, almost afraid it would no longer open at her touch. Surely, he wouldn't wear his disc so conscientiously if his feelings had changed, and, yet, it had been so long, so achingly long. She touched the fingers of her right hand to the bracelet on her left wrist, reassuring herself of its warmth.

She sucked in a deep breath and, at her lightest touch, the door swung open.

Her eyes swept the open-plan living and kitchen area until they found and locked with his.

"Where the hell have you been?"

---

By way of an answer, Hermione threw herself across the room, and his arms enfolded her before she could cover even a third of the distance between them. His hands cradled her head, angling it upward beneath his devouring gaze, and she noticed that his cheeks seemed more hollowed than she remembered and that they bore a hint of stubble. Then, his head tilted and drew closer, and she closed her eyes against his scrutiny. Her lips trembled as they parted in that infinite moment of anticipation before they met his in a caress so light she wanted to scream.

---

Her longing broke free with a disconcerting moan, and she forced her fingers through the lank hair at the base of his skull to deepen the contact. He smelled of freshly-crushed grasses, cinnamon and sweat, and, even as she drank it in, some small distant corner of her brain was trying to deduce what he had been working on. Her tongue challenged his in what became a frantic duel that ended only when she had no more breath to share.

Reluctantly, she sank back to her heels and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I missed you, too," she sighed.

---

His fingers slid into her hair and pressed her cheek more firmly against the black silk of his shirt. "Presumptuous wench," he accused huskily.

"If you wanted to deny it, you should have taken off your disc," she answered, revelling in the tautness of bone and sinew. She lifted her head back to press her lips to his neck, making him draw breath in a ragged gasp.

"If I had taken off the disc, you wouldn't be here," he reminded her.

"I'd have been here," she argued, "even if I had to dose Molly's soup with Draught of Living Death."

---

"Of course, then I would have had to kill you for worrying me to death," she added.

Severus leaned back, pinning her in his gaze.

She was struck anew by the stark angularity of his features, and she was filled with contrition.

"And, yet, you still live."

"Oh, Severus!" This time, her kisses were filled with the need to comfort and reassure, to offer tenderness and compassion. She teased his lips with slow caresses, and then nibbled her way along the line of his jaw to his ear. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I came as soon as I could."

---

"You didn't write again," she said.

"I had no way to know how closely you were being watched," Severus countered. "When weeks passed without you coming..."

"I really wanted to come," Hermione sighed. "Just not if it might mean endangering you in any way. Molly has been... Molly. She's bad enough on her own, but Kingsley's practically given her licence to kill."

"But you're here now," Severus breathed.

"I'm here now. For a couple of hours. There's some big Order meeting, and Ginny didn't take too much convincing to go with the boys on their latest Hunting of the Snark."

---

Severus's arms tightened, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "You're really here."

Hermione tilted her head back, drawing away just far enough to watch his expression when she spoke. "Severus, make love to me."

Fathomless eyes stared down into brown, his free hand sliding up her back until it, too, tangled in her hair and he used his grip to position her mouth perfectly beneath his.

His solicitous touch stirred a liquid heat in her core. He savoured her lips like the finest elf-made wine, and then he let her go with a whisper. "No."