A/N~ Purely indulgent, very late Valentine's Day fic. A bit ooc, fresh off the press, needed it out of my head kind of writing. It didn't turn into what I wanted it to, but the beginning was something I've wanted to write for a long time. The end is my indulgence. Just short of 5000 words.

This is also a promise of something bigger to come. I have a new full-length in the works, coming your way just as soon as I finish doctoring it up. Maybe another month or so. Look out for it, and I hope you enjoy this in the meanwhile.

Severus strode through the halls of the Ministry with thunder emanating from his boots. Whether it was the silence of the impending punishment he had in store, or rage leaking through his body and his wand, none could say.

Anyone who caught his eye quickly averted theirs.

He was a ghastly sight now. When he'd decided he'd had use of him again, the Dark Lord took little pity on the marks Nagini had left on his neck besides a crude healing spell and an anti-venom potion. The scars clung to his pale flesh in red agony, as though he was being swallowed whole by a small, angry kraken.

Knuckles white on his wand, he pushed open the doors to the grand court room which once housed the great Wizengamot. Several members still inhabited the space due to their loyalties, but most were gone.

It seemed everything once was something else, but now stood in a blackened shadow of its past. There was no Minister for Magic anymore, only Severus who was second to the Dark Lord. Everyone was supposed to be free when the job was done, but nothing had gone to plan, not even the so called freedom this side had offered the pureblood community.

In cases like this, where one of Potter's allies was caught and brought to be interrogated, he would torture them quickly and leave little else to say, snagging any important memories they might have along the way. This assured that if the Dark Lord got ahold of them or their mind, he wouldn't find anything. He'd obliviate them of this happening too, to cover his own tracks and keep his own life. How he continued to get away with it was nothing short of a miracle.

Severus didn't believe in miracles, not anymore. Potter was dead, he'd gone through all those years of trouble for nothing, and Tom Riddle managed to be seated upon his throne of domination, having just taken the final most parts of Britain, Scotland, and Ireland all for his own. The muggles were blissfully unaware the war was magical, but the Prime Minister was not so keen that things weren't being kept under control.

His head ached as he looked up at his next victim, having briefly forgotten just exactly how honored those here were to be witnessing this.

Hermione Granger had gone and got herself snatched.

All of his earlier rage filled him again, and before anyone could say a thing, he'd banished the snatchers and left naught but the dementors and select Death Eaters to watch. She was arguably the most important player in the war now, so what did she think she was doing being so careless?

Granger looked older since he'd last seen anything of her and more like a warrior than ever before. There wasn't any of that childlike thirst in her eyes, just pure exhaustion. She was faking the fierceness. Her composure on the other hand, the challenging position of her clenched jaw, that seemed real.

"Get out," he muttered under his breath, knowing the remaining guests were listening.

At first, no one moved. They were all attempting to find who exactly it was he was talking to completely disrespecting of the fact that he was addressing them all.

Turning, they seemed to understand at the fury in his eyes, and his final word of command, "Out!"

Occasionally it paid to be second in command to that snake. Scrambling, the room was empty as it could get with dementors around, but they didn't share secrets. Besides, all they fed on was happiness, and he certainly didn't have any to spare, nor did he think Granger would either.

Before allowing his captive to speak, Severus threw a rush of magic against the walls, the sound of fizzling charms and protective curses causing Granger's eyes to relax slightly, though he had no idea why. She would know better than anyone what happened to those in Potter's Legion who got caught and brought to him. Memories gone, scars of torture left behind.

If she thought she was different, then she had another thing coming. Even Minerva had been set up to suffer before she overtook him and escaped the ministry unscathed. The cruciatus later that evening had been worth seeing her get out, even if his neck did still hurt from that specific encounter.

The magic filled the room with warm air that all came crashing back down in the middle, making Granger's hair more of a mess than it already was if it were even possible.

Then, as though the words would bring Voldemort there if he weren't careful, he asked slowly, "What in Merlin's bloody fucking name are you doing here, Miss Granger?"

Her breathing quickened, and with a quick wave of the wand, her gag was vanished so she could speak.

"Harry is alive."

Nothing could have prepared him for such a statement, feeling the will to do anything drop from him immediately. Death seemed preferable to knowing that information, to having to keep such a thing from the Dark Lord, it would be impossible. It was a miracle he didn't already know... but he couldn't. If Harry was alive, that meant Dumbledore had been right, and the boy harbored a horcrux in him, and Voldemort had only killed that, not Potter himself. Their mental connection would then also be severed, and the Dark Lord could remain blissfully ignorant of it all.

It would be impossible for the Dark Lord to know, and so it would be impossible to verify. Not that Granger had any reason to lie to him, in fact, it seemed she'd taken a great leap of faith in not only getting caught and brought here, but doing so to tell him.

For fuck's sake, everything had just become far more complicated.

"Never say such a thing to me again, Granger, or I swear it'll be the end for you."

And with a few more spells that surrounded just them, Severus got up close to her, barely a breath away and cast the spell to let himself into her mind. He'd gotten good at it over the last year, a trick that no longer took near as much effort as before.

Not that he doubted her, but it was obvious that Harry was indeed alive as he pawed through memories of this or that. It was Potter re-uniting with the Weasley girl, and them sharing moments in seclusion on the seaside, not to mention the loss of Ronald Weasley, then the funeral they'd held in secret.

Severus had known about it, but it didn't make it to the Dark Lord in time to intercept which he was immensely glad for now. The last thing he needed was the troops finding Potter at a funeral where he was alive and well.

He sifted through other memories, Granger being the head of Potter's Legion and all. Of course, if he knew Potter was leading the bloody thing, maybe things could have been solved more quickly. Instead he was rooting through Granger's mind like a pack-rat, feeling intimidated by all that she was willing to share with him. The Legion was a lot closer to their revolt than he'd thought, and with many key players he'd never expected. Hopefully there was room for one more, and not just because he felt as though he were on the losing side, but because he was tired of being where he was. Against Voldemort is where he'd longed to be, for years now.

When this was all done, Severus thought a many-windowed house on the beach would suit nicely. It was the first good thought he'd had since he'd let Minerva best him.

Exiting her mind, Severus stumbled backwards, grasping onto the walls around him, looking at all the empty seats to make sure they were empty before he spoke.

"How?"

"Harry gave me the memories before going into the forest. As you saw he just came back, we didn't even know he was alive ourselves until a few weeks ago just before Ron's funeral. We could have moved forward without him, but the shock factor now puts us in immense favor of finally getting our world back. You have to help-"

"And what if you've misplaced your loyalties, what if I laid there dying giving you false memories?"

"You couldn't," she said vehemently, pulling on her bodily binds but getting nowhere. He wasn't inclined to let her go yet either before he was sure this wasn't a trap. Although no one could hide such trained occlumency from him, not even the most brilliant witch of her age. "You were too weak, Snape, if you had wanted to lie in those memories, you would have needed to be a little further from the brink of death."

He nodded. She was correct, as usual, and he kept his face cool when she stumbled from her place in the middle of the room, free of her restraints.

"Did they take your wand?"

She nodded, looking at him with wary eyes before brushing a few scuffs off of her clothes.

"Here," he said, pulling his spare from his coat pocket. "Dragon heartstring?"

Wide eyes like a helpless deer, Granger nodded again, reaching for it hesitantly as though it might bite her.

"This one will be a lot harder to explain to the Dark Lord," Severus muttered to himself more than her.

She needed to get out, and there was only one way to accomplish such a thing that didn't involve him being bested like Minerva's escape did. He would have to say he was keeping her for longer than usual, to make up some excuse as to why she, of all people, needed to be held and not killed on sight. Although she was the final part of Potter's trio to be conquered, and the Dark Lord might be a little more understanding than Severus originally thought. If all went well, she wouldn't be in the ministry when he found out, but instead long gone back to finish off this bloody war.

He explained this to her quickly and poised to drop the spells from the room, grabbing her arm in a mockery of his usual grip on suspects.

"I want a house when this is done, on the ocean, or the sea, I don't care. And when you or someone else is inevitably Minister for Magic, I want to be left alone."

He dropped the wards and looked her directly in the eye for confirmation as he did so.

"Yes, sir," she answered as though she were in school again. To be fair, he'd barked a command at her with his hands gripping her roughly before he dragged her to the Ministry holding cells.

"When I hand you over to custody, you fight your way out. I have faith you can beat the guards?" This was said at a whisper as he passed through the halls, his prize in hand, her new wand hidden.

Understanding that she was was supposed to look tortured as people walked by and mocked her blood and relation with Potter, all Severus got in return was a slight yes.

Reaching the cells in record time, Severus literally tossed her to the awaiting guards and bowed ever-so-slightly to assure her she hadn't just lived an entire dream like how he felt. Because the next several months were either going to be heaven or hell depending on how all this worked.

-

Deep down in his chest, Severus felt some inner part of his soul heal one, final crack. He'd been on the coast for only a few weeks, but that was all it had taken to remedy the misery that had been the last two years. With the war, and the transition back to normal life, he was just glad to finally be left alone.

Despite the fact it was winter, he could stand on his porch for hours and listen to the waves of the water and the brush of wind. The chill was kinder to him than Voldemort had ever been.

He sipped his tea, finally able to make it the way he liked it, and closed his eyes. It was the small things he took advantage of now that he hadn't been able to do before like letting his guard down. Privacy was another, and not only the fact he finally got to keep all of his thoughts to himself, but the fact that there weren't neighbors for kilometers on either side of him. Only a few people knew he was here, and with a soft pop, Severus assumed one had arrived.

Much to his surprise, it was Hermione Granger on his porch, looking the same as the last time he'd seen her, but far less war-beaten and tired. Actually, she was finely put-together and prepared for the predicted rain, in a rather fashionable black coat and accompanying parasol.

"Hello, sir."

"I think we're beyond that, no?"

Her eyes quirked in a satisfied way, and he knew he was in for a sarcastic retort.

"Would you rather I call you Severus right out of the gate?"

He allowed himself the grin, having gone through the same problem with Minerva after his transition from student to teacher. Imagining Granger would have an even harder time, hearing his name on her lips brought him great joy.

"That's not the worst thing I am sure you have called me, feel free to do so."

Granger grinned at him, or maybe he should call her Hermione.

"Today is Valentine's Day."

Without the knowledge to dispute such a fact, Severus had no choice but to believe her. The days had lost all meaning two years ago when one showed up to the fallen Ministry every day. Whether it was Sunday or Thursday, every moment was in service to the Dark Lord, and so any other arbitrary categorization had left his brain, not to mention holidays.

Never having had the experience of the holiday, he was impartial to it. Sure it was even more of a touchy subject for Hermione, he avoided the comment.

"It was Christmas-time when the liberation happened then?"

She nodded, looking past him in what seemed like avoidance.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he offered lowly, hoping not to step any further in the wrong direction although he was unsure how he'd done it in the first place.

"You're alright," she said almost immediately, smiling to add to the charm of her confidence.

Whether she was or wasn't was out of his hands now.

"Would you care for a cuppa?"

"I would... it's quite cold."

Severus huffed and saw his breath in the air, having to finally agree.

The clouds were darkening the sky, and his traitorous mind went to the Death Eaters plaguing the airspace, and the people below. Usually this would be a sign they were coming, that they were to attack or cause chaos in the near vicinity. Now it only meant rain.

Itching his arm, his focus shifted, and he led Hermione inside his home, illuminating the lamp before shedding his cloak and taking hers from her. A crack of thunder echoed off his windows, and the day he found her in custody echoed in his mind as she flinched. War had ruined her whole generation, Severus wasn't certain why seeing her broken from it was such a surprise.

"Are you enjoying your new home?"

She wanted him to ignore the action as she spoke, but he might have anyways as he realized how nicely dressed she was. The black dress she was wearing under her coat was tight all the way down to her shins, long sleeves in the same fashion. Her hair was down and managed, the curls either behaving or under quite the few layers of spells. A taut necklace around her neck completed the look, and left his eyes lingering at the skin there.

He felt his hand reach up and massage the bubbling scars on his own neck, then just as slowly, go back down to hold onto the counter. Severus hated their existence, knew it made him uglier than he'd been before, and with Hermione looking so elegant and proper, loathing filled his chest.

Merlin she'd asked him a question earlier, and all he could do was create a mess in his head.

"It's much better than the shoebox in Cokeworth, I assure you."

A bright flash lit up the dark afternoon, and Severus took this as his cue to make more tea. It was an easy task with his wand, moving all that he needed to and from their spots. Silence reigned while he did this, until they were seated across from one-another at his dining table, both adding an immense amount of sugar to the hot tea.

"Why are you here?" He finally wondered aloud. It was obvious she had other plans of some sort, why else would she be dressed to the nines?

"I wanted to see you. You asked one thing of me, and I wanted to make sure you got it. Not to mention I'm a little bit nosy... and Harry bet you'd hex me off the property. Easiest five galleons I ever won."

The grin on her face was reminiscent of a Slytherin, drinking her tea after to punctuate her faux innocence.

"Potter has little faith in me, then. Although if you were anyone else I would certainly have tried. You're welcome here, though, Hermione."

Her face blushed, or she was growing warm after being out in the cold. Really, his mind was somewhere it shouldn't be, and it probably had something to do with indecent exposure of her dress. Not that it was her problem, his thoughts were his own, Hermione was allowed to wear what she wished without her lecherous previous professor hoping he'd flattered her.

"I appreciate that, Severus. I've been worried about you, as you're the only one who hasn't chronicled every last detail about their time in the past couple of years."

"The papers are in shambles, all media practically destroyed by Voldemort, and somehow there still manages to be people around who want to know what you're doing. I, for one, am doing well enough alone... And what about you?" Severus hesitated before continuing with the question he really wanted to ask. "Considering today and... your Weasley."

Hermione's face was taut, looking every bit the cool and calculating witch who'd helped win the war.

"Ron and I... well, I don't know how far things might have gone if he'd come out of all this on the side of the living. I loved him, but, I don't think about him like that. I was too worried over Harry, about not being hunted just because of who my parents were. So today I don't really think about it... it's just Valentine's Day."

He nodded, but it wasn't like he understood. The one woman he'd loved had been so long ago, and he'd done so many wrongs, Severus just assumed that it was irreparable. And wasn't it? Besides Minerva, Potter, and the lovely witch across from him drinking his tea, he was still considered an enemy. His dark mark, another gangle of scars on his body now, branded him a traitor, and the scars on his neck made him a martyr worthy of an Order of Merlin, First Class.

The world was upside down.

"Well, then I appreciate your visit, Miss Granger, though the day you chose still seems suspicious."

"Frankly, I had a date, but I couldn't go. I ended up here instead, after visiting Harry. These past few weeks, smoothing everything over, working with you to clear your name and so many others, and to put the rest in Azkaban now that the dementors are in line again-" she breathed deeply here, obviously short of breath from such a long sentence, "well, I missed you. Not to mention the thanks I owe you from several months ago still."

"I've told you not to mention it, it's not like you got out unscathed."

He referenced the battered state she'd left in that day at the ministry. Severus had seen the men who had fought her and imagined her in only slightly better condition.

"Yes, well, it was honestly all a breeze compared to this," she told him, her voice gentle as she tugged on her choker, revealing the thin, white scar on her neck. It was really quite elegant on her deeper skin tone, and Severus pushed his more lewd thoughts back.

If only he could put his hand where that necklace was. Not to squeeze, but just to revel in the fact she would be living and breathing under it. By Merlin, there was a special place in hell for him... and the woman who had given her that scar. If that's how he got his revenge on Bellatrix, then so be it.

"That wretched woman deserved what she got, Hermione."

"I agree." There was no hesitation, and Severus finished off his tea, his emotions back in check and thoughts reigned in as well. What an utter waste his occlumency was if he couldn't protect himself from such emotions.

Her tea was finished in silence.

When she finally put her cup down, Hermione stood and straightened out her dress.

"As long as you're comfortable, then I have done my due diligence, and I'll be going, promise fulfilled."

He gave her a discreet smile and offered a small bow, but she had different ideas. Thoroughly surprising him, the witch gifted him an embrace, gentle as though he were an animal that might scare away. And really he was, but she didn't scare him in an intimidating way.

She left with a humble smile, not even bothering to put on her coat as she apparated to her flat, completely unaware of how enamored he was with her.

-

Seeing Hermione on and off through the months was enough to let the world slide back into what the imbeciles around him considered normal. Severus thought some things were better left destroyed, but the new Wizengamot had just voted one of Granger's new laws into being, and so he supposed the traditions weren't all bad.

He admired her headway and grew more attached to her by the minute. Really it was fascinatingly sick how obsessed he was with her that even Draco, freshly recovered from his parents nasty split after it was revealed Narcissa knew Harry was alive the whole time, would be the one to point it out.

Not to mention when she called on him, he dropped everything at the merest word.

So the fact it was Valentine's Day again, and part of him wished Hermione might drop by again, seemed like the most logical thing in the world, even if two years ago, he would have filed it away as a hallucination caused by too strong of a cruciatus curse.

To be rewarded with such a visit was honestly out of character for usual piss-poor luck.

The weather was snow this year around, and her outfit reflected this smartly. Her coat was lined with faux fur, and her hair was allowed free if only to conserve warmth alongside the thick scarf covering the scar on her neck.

When she shed it all off, there was a thin-strapped red number underneath that could have killed him, and her skin was tanner from all the time she'd spent in the dessert researching various magical creatures, her scar more prominent because of it. This made his heart lurch and reminded him suddenly again, that even with a year of scar paste, he'd not improved much in looks or in favor of the world.

It wasn't as though she'd taunt him on purpose.

"Another date cancel on you?"

She looked at him with a smirk, accepting her tea and smelling the sweetness off of it already.

"You are aware of the date for once? Finally keeping track now that you've been interacting more with the Ministry?"

He couldn't keep back the scoff, but that meant her mischievous smile came around the edge of her cuppa.

"I knew it was February at the bare minimum, and recalled last year's surprise, so I figured I might as well prepare, just in case you were suddenly absent a date."

"I just didn't have one this year, but I felt like celebrating anyways, so here I am." Hermione motioned to her dress, but he couldn't help but think this might be an invitation.

Severus had the common sense to see it for what it was, however, and talked with her about their normal subjects for the better part of the evening until she left, content and mumbling something about the pains of making dinner.

He was far less surprised the next year, when he had finally begun to track time again, the day blatantly the 14th on his calendar. Hermione might come by, and if she did, he'd mark it as a habit and the food he'd prepared wouldn't go to waste.

They'd gotten closer still since he'd taken the ministry up on producing much needed potions for the hospital and school. Not to mention the ministry itself.

When she came in, another snowy ensemble for the chilly winter, his heart hammered in his chest at the sight of a pink, strapless dress which just barely held her chest in place and fell inches above her upper thigh, leaving him to wonder how hot she'd managed to make her warming charms. It definitely did not encourage him to look at her legs.

This dress and lack of a date couldn't be a coincidence, could it? They'd gotten on so well since that first Valentine's Day he didn't want to ruin knowing her brilliant mind, even if sometimes her rambling internally infuriated him.

But really, pink, on this holiday? In his house?

Severus felt a chill that used to mean a Death Eater approached, his spine melting, but no longer. Instead it now meant his trousers would be tented if he didn't slam his mental walls down tight.

They raced through pleasantries, or so it felt, and before he knew it, they were seated in his small living room, Hermione's feet tucked beneath her and his eyes attempting to be anywhere but her delectable collar bones.

Nothing covered her neck this year, and Severus knew his still looked ghastly. Really if they weren't there, he might have said something at least half-implied about wanting her as more than an old man like him should, but his countenance was not that strong.

"Severus?"

He hummed, afraid if he opened his mouth a moan might slip past.

"Does your throat ever hurt?"

And with this she accompanied a single, lithe hand on the side of his throat, removing any sensibility he might have once possessed.

"No," he croaked, feeling more embarrassed than he sounded.

Her thumb grazed over his adam's apple, and his heart beat erratically enough she probably felt it under her palm. Really, he must have spent the past two years dreaming of only this exact thing to happen, and yet he didn't want it either.

Only three years ago, he was obligated to torture her... or even worse, kill on sight.

Time was one hell of a perspective.

And her lips on his was the most blissful thing he'd ever experienced. Any thought of recompense for this dalliance couldn't cross his mind, for the warmth of her thighs under his hands, then the softness of her hair, well, it drew out reasoning from him.

There was a lot of awkward shuffling before the kiss got any better, but if the inclusion of her panty-clad, hot center against his too-tight pants under what little of her dress was bunched at the hips wasn't enough, then nothing would be.

Getting past the awkward bit, and ignoring the protests they both were more than able to come up, the evening progressed as many others did on Valentine's evening. The best part was that Hermione was there still in the morning.

"You should be repulsed by me," he told her as she drifted away from slumber, her bare hips pressed firmly against his groin.

"I should, shouldn't I? If not for my years in Hogwarts, then for your years as second only to Voldemort."

He snorted, unafraid of indignity that early in the morning.

"I meant my visage, but those things too I suppose."

"I didn't show up to your house with my breasts pushed up to the sky all these years for you to tell me I shouldn't be here. I figured that would send the message I didn't care."

Nuzzling her hair which smelled vaguely of his bathroom's soaps, Severus squeezed her hip and thigh, unable to curb his guilt but too selfish to follow its lead.

"You're not... disgusted by the scars?"

"No." Her reply was calm and measured for the morning light that swept in from the reflection on the water outside.

"I wish things had ended differently, that I'd been left to die instead of cursed with this flesh forever, but if this flesh is what pleases you... Hermione I'm yours. I'll be selfish in this one thing."

"Be selfish, Severus," she told him, turning to face him and looking certain of her statement.

"As long as you keep breaking your promise to leave me alone here by the sea."

She nodded, and he kissed her.

Later, in less of a sex-induced haze, he'd fight her over this just as angry about her choices now as when she'd landed herself in his hands while Voldemort still lived. Or maybe he'd just let it be, the peace he sought for so long now melted into his bones thank to this little witch.

Maybe next year he'd wake up to her on Valentine's day instead of anticipating her arrival.