Voldemort was dead. Permanently.

The heroes of the day were Harry and his adoptive father, Severus Snape. Although the newspapers and magazines were replete with stories about the final battle at Hogwarts on Halloween there was a distinct lack of interviews from the heroes. Albus Dumbledore had issued a written statement that did little to illustrate the battle, now being called The Battle at Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt had also issued a statement as a representative of the Aurors Office. It, too, was rather dry and centered on a list of captured and dead Death Eaters. The list of dead on the side of Light was fortunately very slim, two teachers from Hogwarts, four Aurors, and six supporters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Injuries amongst the Light had been heavy, though. The Infirmary at Hogwarts had been busy with the minor cases. Madame Pomfrey sent the more difficult cases onto St. Mungo's once they were stabilised. She was thankful for three fine assistants: Pansy, Luna, and Hermione.

The Weasleys had come very close to losing their patriarch, Arthur, who'd taken an unusual curse to his belly. He would recover, but he'd be taking months of a Digestive Potion since his digestive system had been severely damaged by the curse. He was in the Infirmary, surrounded by his redheaded brood, except for Fred.

Fred had lost an eye, his left one. Alastor Moody had taken charge of the good humoured youngster and brought the boy to the Ocularist that had given Moody his spinning, magical eye. Much as Fred thought Moody's eye was a brilliant construct, and he dearly wanted one like it, he did have to point out that he didn't want to mar his good looks. Moody, of course, had to boast of several conquests he'd had despite his various wounds and disfigurements. Fred, now plagued for the rest of his life with images of Moody and his conquests cavorting, made no further complaints about his new eye. As it was, his new eye perfectly matched his real eye, and although magical, it did not have the disconcerting spin that Moody's had.

The Hogwarts staff suffered two losses, Sybill Trelawney and Filius Flitwick. Both had been killed by the Killing Curse. Sybill had thrown herself in front of a curse that had been meant for Pansy. Pansy, who'd never really thought much of the Divination teacher and had often said some terrible things about the rather gentle, yet eccentric woman behind her back, had been inconsolable for days after. Neville, who was one of many that had escaped with only a few cuts and bruises, took care of Pansy and helped her through her grief.

Professor Flitwick, a formidable dueling opponent, had taken down nearly fifteen Death Eaters by himself before sacrificing himself for one of his Ravenclaw students who was a part of the Defense Association.

Minerva McGonagall had received, perhaps, the worst injuries. Crabbe and Goyle senior had trapped the Deputy Headmistress and hit her successive times with Stunning Curses and the Cruciatus Curse. Most of the after effects of the Unforgivable were dealt with a potion. The Stunning Curses took a greater toll causing Minerva to be easily exhausted, and sometimes she suffered intolerable cramps.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who had silently disavowed their fathers politics some time ago, had thus surprised the students by fighting with the DA. Vincent had a rather impressive scar on his cheek from a cutting curse (he wouldn't allow Madame Pomfrey to use a spell that faded the scar), and Goyle had suffered a few broken ribs, now mended. The two boys, after learning what their fathers had done to the Deputy Headmistress, made it their business to take care of the Head of Gryffindor House when Albus couldn't be by her side. The two boys, who had matured remarkably the year before and had lost their 'stupid louts' appellation, were often seen trotting briskly up and down corridors or flying on a broom around the castle running errands for Professor McGonagall.

It was a good thing the Headmaster survived practically intact. The political maelstrom along with the media circus that erupted after news of Voldemort's death was best handled by him. It was his steadying influence in the following weeks that kept Hogwarts afloat and kept the Ministry from falling when many of the Death Eaters that had been captured at the battle had been revealed as Ministry workers. The corruption that ran through the Ministry and that also tainted the Wizengamot was a wildfire that thankfully burnt out quickly due to Dumbledore's calm and decisive manner.

The Ministry would have a few hitches over the years, but it would soon settle into a lengthy period of good works, reforms, and advancements.

None of this mattered to the Snapes. Lyrica, although healed from her devastating injuries, had not wakened.

Madame Pomfrey and Severus Snape had worked diligently on the outward wounds that Lyrica had received and healed them to the point the scars were almost invisible. Snape had taken great care with the injury on his wife's face and had managed to reduce that scar to nothing more than a faint, pale, curved line that was no more prominent than the old scar she'd received from her father when his be-ringed hand had struck her face when she'd dared to be defiant.

They discovered later that Lyrica had been hit by a curse that made it impossible to wake her. When Snape tried a tentative Legilimens spell upon her, he also found her inner mind asleep as well. Draco, who had been fighting alongside his mother when she was struck by the mysterious curse and the cutting curses, had heard a portion of the odd sleeping curse. When he wasn't spending time with his family, Draco, along with Hermione and Luna and his brother, would spend countless, silent hours in the library trying to find out more about the curse that kept their mother asleep.

Three weeks after the final battle, classes were renewed at Hogwarts. It had taken dozens of letters written personally by the Headmaster to convince parents to not remove their children at such a delicate time. Despite this, all of the houses suffered a few losses, but only from parents choosing to keep their little witches and wizards home. There had been injuries, but not one child had been lost in the battle.

Sirius Black came in to take over the Charms class and interim Head of Ravenclaw House. Snape agreed to return to Potions so Remus Lupin took on all the years for Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and in addition became the new Head of Gryffindor House. Dumbledore himself would teach Transfiguration since Minerva had tendered her conditional resignation. She would remain as Deputy Headmistress until a suitable replacement was found.

Snape was loathe to leave his wife's side as he taught Potions, but he found a small solace in the normal activity of teaching and terrifying his students. He would take his meals at his wife's side, quietly telling her about the day's news. He had been grading his students work in the infirmary as well, until one evening, his sons came to him.

Snape heard the shuffling entry of his sons and looked up over the narrow desk he'd set up beside Lyrica's bed at Draco and Harry. "I believe you're both out after curfew, gentlemen," he chided softly.

Draco nudged Harry and hissed under his breath. Harry rolled his eyes.

"If you have something to say, please do so, and then get yourselves off to bed. I do believe you both have a test in Charms tomorrow," urged their father.

"Dad, I... I mean, me and Draco," began Harry as he shifted back and forth on his feet uneasily. "We know you want to stay here with mum, but we... well... OW!" Harry turned a dark glare upon his brother who'd just thumped his shoulder.

"I never knew you stuttered, Scarhead," snapped Draco.

"Think you can do better, oh Orator's Delight? Go ahead!" spat Harry.

Draco suddenly pushed both his hands angrily into Harry's chest, knocking him off his feet and into a small table that held Lyrica's potions.

Snape rose swiftly from his desk and snatched Harry up and grasped Draco by the collar. "This behavior is intolerable! You two had better have a damned good explanation for starting a fight in front of your mother, or I swear I'll tan both your hides so neither of you will be able to sit tomorrow!" he snapped. Neither boy had ever seen their father so angry before.

Draco let out a strangled urk and Snape eased his grip on his son's collar. "We miss you!" he squeaked out.

Snape let go of both his sons and placed his hands upon his hips. "You what?"

Harry repeated, "We... MISS... you, dad."

"We only get to see you in Potions, but that's not enough. Harry and I," Draco took a deep breath. His father's stern look hadn't changed. "We need you," he practically whispered.

Harry continued, "There's no one to talk to about some... things... and at night," he shuddered and stopped.

"What about at night?" he asked very softly, his concern now reflected in his eyes. Neither boy spoke. "Are you both having nightmares?" They each nodded, embarrassed to admit such weakness. To their astonishment, Snape gathered his sons into his embrace. "Merlin's teeth! I am so... so very sorry," his voice was full of his regret for having neglected his children so. "I have no excuse to offer either of you." He cupped their chins lightly in his hands.

"Father, we don't want to take you away from mother, but couldn't you spend some time with us?" Draco fairly pleaded and the begging in his usual, proud tone, tore at his father's heart.

"I shall amend my time, Draco, Harry. I promise you both."

From then on, Snape graded his students work in his quarters with his sons and slept, alone, in his own bed. It was difficult not having Lyrica beside him, but Draco and Harry truly did need him as both were having trouble with nightmares.

With their father's help, though, the nightmares soon passed and his sons were sleeping well in a few weeks. Snape was pleased he could help his children, but frustrated that he still could do nothing for Lyrica. She slept on, day after day, her health drifting away bit by bit no matter how many potions he brewed for her and fed her.

Snape arrived at the Infirmary promptly at 5am every morning. Since all staff were required at breakfast in the Great Hall, this gave Snape time to attend to his sleeping wife. He was very shocked to see a familiar ghostly figure sitting vigil by Lyrica's bedside.

The ghost of King Henry VIII had the ability to manifest as quite a solid persona. His preferred outfit was in red and gold (colours disturbingly reminiscent of Gryffindor), but today he was outfitted in sombre blue, grey, and silver. Despite looking fairly solid, he seemed rather washed out looking.

"Your majesty," Snape addressed the ghost. "I didn't think you'd be able to leave Ashmere."

"Ah, good Sir Raven! I've missed your dour company." He returned his gaze to Lyrica. "I felt her spirit attempting to walk the lands I inhabit and concern drew me from my haunt."

An icy chill shot through Snape's veins and he dropped into a chair next to the King. "Is she that close to... to...?" He choked, unable to voice his worry.

"Death has no claim on our girl, yet, Sir Raven, but that bony spectre awaits in the wings. Maid Hermione is quite distraught over the fact that she has yet to discover how to awaken the sleeping beauty."

"You saw Hermione?" asked Snape.

"You must take the lass to task, Severus. I found her locked within the cloister of the library, her eyes red from lack of sleep. My sudden presence startled the bird."

"Good. Did she retire immediately to bed?" Snape made a mental note to himself to look in upon Hermione later in the day.

"The girl left the library. I cannot confirm if she took to her bed or continued her tiresome work." The King rose from his ghostly throne. The throne vanished allowing him to pace the floor, although his feet didn't quite touch the floor.

"Hermione and Draco will be going to Australia this holiday. I expect that after her parents memories are reversed she'll be able to get some rest," Snape said, mostly to fill the awkward silence.

The heavy, solidity of the King's hand rested upon Snape's shoulder. Ghosts, in their transparent form radiated a grave-like chill that was unpleasant to the living. When King Henry took on his solid form and briefly touched someone living, there was neither warmth nor cold. As Snape felt the reassuring weight of the King's hand, he wondered again at the mystery of this ghost who took on solid form and could also leave the place he haunted. The King was very unlike the ghosts of Hogwarts.

Looking down upon the peaceful form of his wife, he could see the tell-tale shadows of her wasting away. Her skin had the appearance of fine, white parchment that had just begun to outline her bones. Potions and nutrition supplements seemed only to prolong the inevitable. Snape worried for his wife, but he was most worried for his child who would leave him first if a cure weren't found soon.

Reaching out his hand to touch his daughter, he felt some little relief at her strong kick.

Things all changed over the Christmas holidays.

Hermione was finally going to be able to reunite with her parents and she was practically bouncing out of her skin as she waited for two more escorts. Tonks was already beside the Gryffindor girl in the Entrance Hall, chuckling to herself.

"There they are, Hermione," pointed Tonks towards the dungeon entrance. "You can stop bouncing."

"Draco!" Hermione nearly knocked down Draco as he emerged with his father and Remus Lupin.

"Gah!" Draco laughed and kissed Hermione. "Are you happy to see me, My?"

"I'm excited to see my parents and introduce them to you," she grinned.

"Hermione," beckoned Snape. She let go of Draco and went over to her uncle. He embraced her and then stepped back. "I want you to know that I do regret not being able to go with you as the courting tradition dictates, my girl, but I do promise to take tea with your parents as soon as it is possible."

"It's all right, Uncle Severus." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then whispered. "I won't stop praying for a Christmas miracle."

Snape embraced the girl, very tightly this time, and kissed the crown of her head. As he watched his son, and in a few years his daughter-in-law to be leave with Lupin and Tonks, he wondered at the circumstances that had changed him in such a way as to allow that brave, cheeky, little bookworm into his heart. Thankful once again for that auspicious night in the Forbidden Forest in 1994, he, too, prayed for a Christmas miracle.

It was two days before Hermione was able to tell her parents about herself and Draco. Tonks had performed the Memory Reversal spells (seven in all since it was a tedious and precise operation) and then they all had to deal with her parents anger over having been Obliviated. Remus kept the calm in the household and also reassured Hermione's parents that all was now safe where there daughter was concerned.

Draco was nervous about asking Hermione's father for permission to court her. He hadn't known that at one time Dr. Irving Granger had been an American Army Dentist stationed in Suffolk, serving the dental needs of both American and British soldiers. Irving Granger was a tall, well-muscled man who looked as handsome as he had in his soldiering days. To Draco, Irving looked like he'd find a good match in intimidation from Severus Snape. In short, if Irving didn't like Draco's request, wizard or no, the boy was certain he'd be squashed like a bug.

Jean Granger was an easier person to approach. She had made little fuss over the Obliviation than did her husband. She'd been all too glad to know that her daughter was safe from harm. Irving had made a promise to Remus that if ever he met Albus Dumbledore he'd punch the man for having allowed children to fight against madmen.

Jean Granger was a foot shorter than her tall husband, with the same curly brown hair as her daughter. Her figure wasn't slim, but pleasantly round, and Draco couldn't help liking the fact that Hermione would age as beautifully as her mother had.

Draco had decided to approach Hermione's father with his request after dinner one evening. Irving, who in his forced retirement from dentistry, had taken up putting together plastic kits of military models. That evening he had retreated for his hobby room when Draco had knocked timidly on the open door.

Irving Granger looked up from some minute piece of work and trained his washed out blue eyes upon the little aristocrat. The older man was silent for a few brief seconds as he studied the boy he'd dubbed in his mind as 'Little Lord Fauntleroy'.

In those brief seconds, Draco almost lost his nerve. From the first day of their arrival he'd gotten the impression that Irving Granger didn't quite approve of him.

"He doesn't like me, My," they were both outside bundled up against the cold weather.

"Of course he does," scoffed Hermione.

"He looks like he'd like to shoot me with that pistol he has in his office. Didn't you see the look on your father's face last night after I kissed you goodnight? I swear he was going to kill me in my sleep!"

Hermione scowled tightly and nudged Draco in the ribs with her elbow. "My dad is just protective of me, but if you treat him with respect, he'll respect you. Now, let's go inside before I freeze to death!"

"Uhm, Mr. Granger, sir," he tried so very hard not to stammer, but his mouth had just completely dried up. He coughed, which didn't help. "I'd like to..." Draco's mouth really was too dry, and he was feeling awfully hot.

"Son, sit down before you faint and have a heart attack," ordered Irving Granger as he pointed to a chair next to his work table. "Here, take a good sip of this." Irving handed the boy the can of beer he'd been drinking from. Not knowing it was alcohol, Draco took a big gulp and immediately regretted it. He spluttered and dropped the can onto the floor where it quickly spilled its remaining contents. "Jesus Christ, son!" chuckled Irving as he picked up the can, crushed it in one hand, and tossed it across the room into a wastebasket.

"I can fix that mess, sir," said Draco taking out his wand. He cast an Evanesco to remove the beer and then did a Scourgify to clean the stain. "Sorry for that."

"Good thing you got that magic, son, you're a disaster," he winked, taking out the sting of his words. "Take a deep breath and then tell me what's on your mind, Draco."

Draco took the ordered deep breath and then clasped his hands tightly together. He sat up straighter, and tried to remember that he was supposed to be acting like an adult.

"According to wizarding tradition, Mr. Granger, I'd like to ask your permission to formally court Hermione." Wow! he gasped inwardly. I said that rather well! He then focused his grey-eyed gaze upon the ex-Army Captain who could squash him... and then... his glance slipped to the Army revolver that sat against a red velvet background within an ornate frame that hung over the work table. He gulped as all his nervousness leapt back into his throat.

"Huh," grunted Irving Granger as he sat back in his chair and regarded the boy... the young man seated before him. "You wizards still do the old fashioned courting thing, do you?"

Draco blinked. "Hermione told me that Muggles had a courting tradition, but not many follow it these days."

"Nope, they don't. Kind of a pity. I didn't quite court Jean, but I did ask her father for her hand in marriage. You did better than me, son. I upchucked my dinner on her dad's new Florsheims."

Draco wasn't sure what Florsheims were, but figured it was a bad thing to vomit on. "You didn't?" he asked softly.

"Yep. Laughed at me, and John's not a fellow who laughs much, I tell you. Good man, though, and he gave me permission to marry Jean." Irving relaxed and propped an ankle up on his knee. "So, tell me what this courting is all about, Draco. You mean to marry my girl at some point?"

"Courting involves regular tea dates between our parents so they can get to know each other. Hermione and I will continue to date each other, but with the expectation that we will marry." Draco shifted in his seat. "Normally, my parents would have come with me to meet you and Mrs. Granger, but my mother is ill."

Irving nodded. When Hermione had explained about Draco's biological parents and how the Snapes had adopted him, it had put the professor of Potions higher up in his eyes. There had been quite a few times during earlier summers that Hermione had complained bitterly about the wizard. Apparently, Professor Snape had changed.

"Soon's your mother's better, we'll have your parents over for a visit. Now tell me, how does this courting affect you and my daughter?"

Draco almost missed the subtle threat under the seemingly benign question. He swallowed knowing that the man was inquiring after his daughter's virtue. "It doesn't change too much, except for the social obligations between our parents. Since it is our intention to wed after we've both finished Hogwarts, we will make wedding plans with both parents in mind, including the setting of a date for the wedding." Draco slipped his finger in the collar of his shirt and was surprised to find the top button wasn't buttoned. He could swear his collar was doing its best to strangle him.

Irving's fingers began to drum ominously upon his desktop. "Mr. Granger, sir, I think you should know I have the... utmost respect for Hermione. I'd never... well we aren't... I mean..." Merlin! How am I he supposed to assure the man I'm not having sex with his daughter without saying it?

Seeing the boy's discomfort, Irving decided to save him before the boy had a conniption fit. "No funny business 'til you're both married. Got it?"

Draco let out a puff of held in air. "Yeah... I mean, yes, sir."

Irving rose from his chair and Draco jumped up. "C'mon, son. Let's have a little celebration. I need another beer and well, you need some apple juice."

The rest of the holiday went well to the point that Draco was finally able to relax a little around Hermione's father.

"Uncle Severus! Are you there? Madame Pomfrey? Please, is anyone around?" Hermione's head hovered in the green flames of the Infirmary Floo. As Snape left his wife's side to answer Hermione's call, he saw a familiar look on the young girl's face; this was the look that meant she'd discovered something brilliant.

"You're a day early for Christmas, Hermione," said Snape as he crouched down carefully. He really hated how Floo calls required the participants to kneel awkwardly in front of the fire. They were murder on his knees. "I was pleased the memory reversal went well. How is the visit so far?"

Hermione was thrown a bit off balance by the chit-chat from Severus Snape, but she replied, "Mum and Dad really like Draco, Uncle Severus. Oh! Dad says you and Aunt Lyrica are invited for tea as soon as she's better."

"We'll do that just after the New Year, my girl. Now, what has you all in a dither that you're fit to burst with some grand discovery?" Snape asked. He waved his hand to cast a silent and wandless Cushioning Charm so he could change his crouch and ease his aching knees.

"Hang on, I have to send something through, first." Hermione's head vanished, and seconds later the Floo spit out what appeared to be a children's book. Hermione's head reappeared.

"Sleeping Beauty?" he flipped through the book glancing over the very bright illustrations. "This isn't a Christmas gift is it?"

"No, Uncle. It's the key to what I suspect the curse is that Aunt Lyrica's under. Since Draco saw Lyrica get cursed, he heard the incantation. I've been researching that and never found anything close until I was going through some of my childhood books last night. The curse translates to 'Beauty Sleeps Forever'. Sleeping Beauty was cursed by an evil witch to sleep forever or until a handsome prince came along and gave her a kiss imbued with love to wake her."

Snape looked down at the book again, and then at Hermione. "If you're trying to tell me that I simply need to kiss my wife, I can already tell you that hasn't worked."

He was puzzled by Hermione's sudden blush. "Uhm... sir, you, uh..." The stuttering girl vanished and Draco's head came through the green flames.

"Father," he greeted. "What Hermione's trying to say is that she suspects you haven't kissed mother like you normally would because... well... you know..." With a yelp, Draco's head was gone and Hermione's was back.

"Uncle Severus," Hermione spoke so quietly, he had to lean forward to hear her. "We know how private you are. You've probably only kissed Lyrica's cheeks, or forehead. You have to try and truly kiss her. The same way Prince Charming kissed Sleeping Beauty." He frowned darkly and then gave her a skeptical look. The last thing he was going to do was discuss kissing with the girl. "Please, Uncle, just read the story and think about it?"

"I'll read the story, Hermione, but I must admit, I think this is stretching credulity."

She sighed in disappointment. "I know, it's probably silly... anyway, I guess we'll see you for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Bye, Uncle Severus." Hermione was gone and the flames had returned to their orangey heat before he could say anything else.

With the book in hand, Snape rose to his feet as he considered Hermione's theory. She was correct, of course, he was a private man who did not believe in overt, affectionate displays in public. A few times he'd been caught kissing Lyrica in public, but they'd all been chaste, within the bounds of propriety.

As he walked over to Lyrica's bed, located in a corner of the Infirmary with a privacy screen around it, he realised that he had not, indeed, truly kissed his wife since she'd been brought from the battlefield. The Infirmary was a public place, therefore only polite, perfunctory kisses were permissible. He missed kissing Lyrica. To get completely lost in sensation... how Lyrica felt as he held her, how she tasted... he missed his wife.

Sitting down on the edge of Lyrica's bed, he traced her almost bloodless lips with the tip of his finger. The only time he'd kissed his wife in public, with no thought to what others might think, was the night they had returned from the past and Lyrica had become his wife and the other half of his soul. At the conclusion of the hand-fasting, with Dumbledore, his just then adopted son Harry, his godson Draco, his adopted niece Hermione, adopted nephew Ron, and even Minerva watching, he'd taken his wife into his arms and kissed her as a husband should. In that kiss had been all his love for Lyrica and the joy and freedom she'd given him.

He shifted, leaned over Lyrica, and carefully lifted his wife into his arms. He placed a hand behind her head and neck to support her upper body as she was completely limp in her deathly sleep. Except for the roundness of her belly where his daughter rested within, Lyrica's frame felt bony, thin, and far too light. As he brushed his lips to her hair, a very small part of him felt like a fool for what he was about to do and he sincerely hoped no one would walk in the Infirmary and catch him.

Snape hesitated and then gingerly, somewhat uneasily, placed his lips against Lyrica's. He could not suppress the shudder that went through him as he felt the chill of near lifelessness touching him through her lips. He pulled away, and for a moment he crushed Lyrica's body to his in an unreciprocated embrace.

With his eyes closed and his chin resting lightly upon her head, he drifted back into his memories.

That first night in 1898 in the office of the Headmistress. He had looked around at the books, Potions charts, experimental notes, the warm fire, and he could smell cinnamon tea, and oh yes... the albino raven! How could he have forgotten that. Briefly he wondered if Lyrica missed the unusual familiar for she had never mentioned it after they left her time. While the bird had diverted his attention, the arrival of the Headmistress changed the office.

The headmistress of Hogwarts was a classic beauty with ivory skin – those startling green eyes! – and long, straight hair that fell in a silk curtain down to her mid-back. The woman's lovely hair was a deep chestnut red that fell against an outer robe of rich green velvet. The edges of the robes sleeves and the hem were embroidered with silver; again the sinuous form of the Slytherin snake was prominent in the design. Under the outer robe was a simple dress of black velvet that fell in a soft drape to her feet.

At that moment he had seen in her all the Queens of the world; beauty personified. Lyrica Arcahnum was not a woman who would look twice at him.

When she had drawn closer, though, he had caught the first of her flaws. Just as his were, her hands were stained lightly from her years of working with potions. There was the faint, white glimmer of a scar on her cheek. She was not a slim woman with a Witches Weekly exaggerated figure. Lyrica had curves, generous where he preferred them.

As he had sat with her that evening and revealed his story, he found that for all her regal airs, Lyrica was a young woman new in a position that was not suited to her. He was curious about her and wanted to know more of her story.

The first time he held her was after he'd blown up the Forbidden Corridor and had dreamt of the Dark Lord during his recovery in the Infirmary. His arm with the Dark Mark had hurt so much and he'd been so terrified that while he was still dreaming he'd run out into a vicious storm with Lyrica chasing after him. He had fallen, tripped, perhaps, and she had wakened him with sharp slaps to his cheeks. Once awake, he had taken her into his arms. Feeling Lyrica so close, her voice whispering soothingly to him, he had felt safe for the first time in years.

Later that same evening, she had fixed that strange hot chocolate concoction for him. He wanted to kiss Lyrica then, but he was unsure. Lyrica had not been treated well by the men in her life and he did not wish to disturb the fragile threads of their relationship by breaking her trust.

It was Lyrica who had first kissed him. Tentative, testing, shy. Moments later she had sworn by Merlin that he'd never leave her.

"I never shall," Snape whispered as he brushed his lips against Lyrica's cheek. Once more he kissed his wife's mouth and this time he ignored the chill and instead he remembered all the kisses they had shared. From delicate, pecks upon the cheeks to deep kisses that flared into unrestrained lovemaking. There was warmth, passion, and most definitely love in every single kiss they shared. As he now kissed Lyrica, he recalled so clearly how well her body fit against his, the way her arms felt either around his neck, or his waist. All the love he'd ever desired was in their kisses and he wanted that back!

Warmth suddenly bloomed between Lyrica and Snape and he felt his wife's arms circling round his chest. He then felt the wetness of tears against his own cheeks and in that moment he realised his kiss was being returned. In shock he pulled away to look down into the beautiful sea-green eyes that shone with life.

"Lyrica," he whispered softly. "You came back!"