A/N: Uhh, it's gonna be sad. And I so rarely write attached to Severus so here we are.

Six years prior he'd started coming down the stairs, drowsy but otherwise put-together for five in the morning.

The only other things up at this time were the birds just barely awake and croaking their tunes, or the old lady a few doors down, Mrs. Nielsen, who had her television so loud that in the summer it was easy for him and the entire neighborhood to hear it if their windows were open.

Same old routine, get ready, shuffle down the stairs, prepare the kettle-

There was a break in the careful steps that morning, however, when he came upon a figure too familiar for it to be real. How many times had he dreamt she'd come back to him? Each dream too real to awake from peacefully. Would this be the same? Would he awaken at any moment now, seeing her crestfallen eyes or tortured visage, broken enough to know she'd been through a hell he couldn't bring her back from?

No, so he pinched himself, wanting to have control over the situation.

Nothing happened.

The figure was still there, her face leaning against his old and weather-stained window that looked as though someone had frosted it many years ago. She was actually there?

"Hermione?"

The name was unfamiliar on his lips, the idea that she even would answer to it bloody terrifying.

Whirling around, as though she weren't a trained Auror of the highest caliber, she stood and came over to him. They'd been molding her since the moment Voldemort fell to look like this, like a cat pouncing on its prey.

"Severus?"

He took a step back. Gods, it was her. The idea to check and make sure that she wasn't an imposter was far too gone now. She was in his arms quicker than that, extracting from him a hug he'd only dreamed of the past six years.

"You're back," he muttered, stroking her hair as though it would be the last time he ever held her again. In some ways, it would be.

"Yeah," she was crying, "I had to do a lot of things... some things no one was anticipating."

"Bloody Ukraine."

He didn't know what else to say, but the sniffled-laugh was plenty for him to know that at least it was the right thing to say.

She backed up after a few minutes longer, looking strong, yet weathered. How many seasons had she endured of things that he had seen as well? Who put this woman through it? He wanted to tear their bones from their bodies without an inch of mercy. Severus knew what maniacs did to their pray.

"You look-" Hermione stuttered, no breath in her lungs to support a word she wanted to say.

"I suppose I do," he answered, knowing exactly what he looked like. Six years it had been, and well, he could only stave off the gray hair for so long before it took root, too proud to dye it, and his face had grown wrinkled from the immense amount of frowning.

Severus adjusted his collar, suddenly wishing he'd taken a little more precaution in dressing for the day. Hermione watched him carefully as he did this, and his thoughts grew more insecure until he saw her physically deflate.

She collapsed into his armchair, letting loose a laugh that he could only describe as frustrated and over-built, a pressure cooker of emotions.

"You're married?"

"Remarried, technically," he told her with no quiet opinion on the matter. It wasn't by choice. He would've bloody left their own contract alone if she hadn't run off to Ukraine the moment the Ministry begged it of her and been declared dead when her two month mission left her two years missing.

"Does it matter?" She asked him while the hand that had been pinching her forehead flew at him as if to strike were she not a room away.

"Yes, my first and foremost bond was to you."

"I could really use some Horilka right now."

Severus snorted. "All I have is tequila."

Hermione threw him a wild glare for even daring to be lighthearted, yet it also begged the question of why he only had tequila of all bloody things.

"Grace likes it, and I do not drink anymore."

She bulked at him, than asked in a shrill tone, "Grace? You married some tart named Grace?"

Severus might have been more offended if it was anyone else asking him this. Especially since she was so brilliantly beautiful just slumped into his armchair as she was.

"Your point, witch? What's in a name?"

"Don't quote Shakespeare at me, you arse!" Hermione yelled, finally getting up, her wand in hand and at his throat.

Severus would have feared she might wake Grace if there weren't a substantially large amount of silencing charms on their room to avoid a problem similar to Mrs. Nielsen's.

Sounds echoing down the street were not ideal, just as the warm wood of Hermione's wand in his throat. With a single finger he pushed it away, watching her sadness replace anger, eyes growing watery.

"I wish you waited."

"So do I," he told her truthfully.

They had only grasps of time together when they married. She was under intense physical strains at the ministry, and he had been rebuilding the curriculum with Minerva at Hogwarts. Their rushed ministry nuptials had left a lot to be desired, yet they'd been happy.

Then Hermione left for Ukraine. Two months... four... a year... two years came and Harry had told him to move on.

Their silence made Severus uncomfortable, so he traveled to the kitchen, brushing right past her to make a soothing kettle of tea.

"And what else do I not know?"

Merlin, couldn't she leave it?

"What about you?" He retorted, not caring to turn around and find her petulant look. No, his shaking hands and black kettle were plenty good enough. "What happened in Ukraine?"

"I burnt the house down." Her voice was a whisper. Something that sounded like a report and not the passionate kind she used to write for him as a game, her chance to finally get O's out of him.

Severus held his hands on the kettle while she continued because he couldn't move. He wanted to know why she was gone so long, how something that was supposed to keep her away for two bloody months left her declared dead for over four years.

"There were more variables than we anticipated, an entirely different family ended up being the true leaders of the circuit-"

"Enough!" He couldn't stand her electronic report of the past several years as much as he'd wanted to hear it and to finally know.

Severus looked at her, his entire body in flames from this whole thing. He'd wanted her back so badly... to have her here doing what she was doing, challenging his very presence, yet now? Now he felt as though there'd been too much. Too much distance and tears, too many letters to Harry and Kingsley, and far too many five AM mornings that had only brought him here. If he'd gotten up any later would she have merely left him alone? Announced her living status and just left him be?

Merlin, he didn't know what he wanted.

His eyesight full of her, and his mind even fuller of their brief marriage and tornado of a love story-

Severus liked the feel of her lips, he always had. She was cathartic for him because she offered something so few other women ever dared to do. Hermione had been like purging his soul, and for her he had been an anchor and reminder that she'd lived through a bloody war. Her lips were still smooth, and she still kissed so gracefully, with patience and love.

He let go. Severus had to let go, he went back to his kettle and threw it on the stove top, turning up the flames as far as they would go.

The crack of apparition resounded louder than when she'd left the first time.

A few hours later, a cold cup of tea in front of him and paper in his hands, Severus felt cool arms wrap around him.

"When will you sleep?"

"Soon," he said, pushing the folded paper over his shoulder for his wife to see.

She retracted a single arm and read from his back, "Hermione Granger Alive and Well. A brief disclosure of her death-defying case on page six."

Her warmth left him, and in her egregious light-blue night grown with the extemporary lace he insisted didn't belong in his household, she sat down across from him. Her grey-blonde hair was up in a loose bun on her head, strands everywhere they didn't quite belong.

Grace digested the article with little patience, her eyes scanning more quickly than the students who he watched copy things off his board before he erased it far quicker than he should.

"And?" He asked, curious as to what the crease between her brow meant.

"Are you telling me you're leaving me, or is this just the news of the day?"

Severus had an out, he had two women who loved him, though he would probably never believe either, especially the blonde before him. Grace was not the most intelligent woman, but she loved him and very often had her moments. This wasn't one.

"It's just the Prophet like any other day."

Her eyes were trained on him, wondering when he might rescind the hidden promise of staying of with her. Severus didn't budge.

"Well," she put the paper down and poured herself a cup of cold tea, a tradition he couldn't stand but never bothered to wonder over. "To having you in my bed a little longer."

Grace raised her cup to him and then drank the liquid without pause.

Severus wasn't sure how much later he could sleep, such were the consequences of Hermione's leaving, but he might just enjoy an extra few minutes now and again.