Snape Redux

Snape Redux

By April Grey

Chapter 16 – Bonus Chapter Wedding at the Weasleys, pt. 1 – Hermione’s Goodbye

It all belongs to Rowling, except for the parts you don’t recognize.


WARNING: No Snape in this chapter. HG/VK. Don’t like—Don’t Read!

Hermione Apparated directly from the battlefield to the first floor, Creature Induced Injuries, of St. Mungos. She had been there before, when a giant snake had bitten Mr. Weasley, and Hermione felt certain that this must have been the same snake, Nagini, that Viktor had killed.

She hadn’t seen the snake bite Viktor. The magical shield had seemed to hold. However, she remembered that what was unusual about Mr. Weasley’s bite was that it wouldn’t stop bleeding. Just as Viktor’s scalp wound wouldn’t stop.

She was still kneeling on the floor, covered in Viktor’s blood when a Mediwizard with bright golden eyes and sporting a goatee approached her.

“Are you sure that you are on the correct floor, Miss? Did you stop by the desk downstairs?”

Hermione bit back a few questions of her own such as: are you a complete twit, or just an idiot?

“He just killed a giant snake and therefore I am quite sure this is the correct floor.”

“Very well. We’ll need you to fill in some papers.” He fiddled with his clipboard.

“Can’t you see that he’s going into shock?”

“Well, yes. We’ll take care of the blood loss, but we need an immediate relative to sign him in and—“

Hermione had a sudden fear of Viktor expiring while they sent to Bulgaria for his family’s approval.

“I’m his wife,” she pointed to the black ring on her finger for good measure, “and I’ll sign anything. Just take care of him!”

“Well, that’s a bit more cooperative. You know I’m usually on the closed ward. Tyranius Falco at your service. Head wound?”

“Yes. And there was a similar case here a year and a half ago. With Mr. Weasley, Arthur Weasley. It should all be on record.”

“Well. Yes.” The Mediwizard began humming tunelessly to himself.

“Can’t you do a sanguination spell, or get him a bed on the ward, just do something!” Hermione’s voice rose.

“Yes, I can see that you are agitated. I’ll find you a calming potion,” He turned away.

“Not for me, for him!”

Falco turned back to her and riveted her with his strange yellow eyes.

“Oh, no that wouldn’t do at all. He’s quite calm, why don’t you just leave the healing to me?”

“Calm? He’s half dead!”

Hermione searched her mind for the names of the healers who had taken care of Mr. Weasley and the treatment they had used. Before she could enter her memory, Healer Smethwyck, a florid faced man with green eyes and sandy hair, came along. “Thank you, Tyranius. I always feel so secure when you cover the ward for me.”

“Not to worry, Smethy, always happy to lend a hand. Oh, you might want to send the Missus here to me, she seems a might agitated over her husband’s condition.”

Hermione had her wand out and to the ready. “He’s about to bleed to death.” She displayed her blood-covered hands.

Smethwyck looked at her, “I see your point,” he waved his wand and suddenly Viktor’s color was much improved. His eyes fluttered open. “Unfortunately, they just used up the last of the Blood-Replenishing Potion and it takes five hours for our potions master to brew up fresh supplies. Seems there’s been a battle someplace creating a run on our stock. Pity, that potion lasts quite a bit longer than this spell does.

“Did Healer Falco have you fill out any forms?” said Smethwyck.

Hermione shook her head, gobstruck at the sheer incomprehensible laxity of the place.

“Well, let’s get him a bed on the ward, shall we? Are you sure it was an injury caused by a creature?”

“Very… big snake,” Viktor gasped out. “It was only a scratch, but I felt it happen as my shield gave out.”

“Don’t try to talk, Viktor,” Hermione touched his bloodied cheek.

“I feel fine. I leave now, right? Still some Quidditch practice to be had before tonight’s game,” Holding Hermione, he pulled himself to his feet, weaving unsteadily.

“Say, you aren’t Viktor Krum, the Quidditch player?” said the Healer with an expression like it was Christmas Day and all the presents under the tree had his name on them.

Hermione sighed. That was the general reaction of most Wizards who recognized him. She enchanted a towel to wrap around his neck to absorb the blood that was still flowing from his scalp as they helped him onto a bed.

“Well, we’ll just have to get you patched up and out of here for practice,” he said, still grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Hermione should have known better. Yes, she should have. Of course, they’d patch him up and have him out in no time.

“No!” she stared at the two Wizards.

“No what, my love?” Viktor knitted his thick black eyebrows.

“No… Quidditch… tonight! You nearly died.”

“Mrs. Krum, maybe a bit of Calming potion would do you just the trick.”

“You nearly died!” she glared at Viktor.

“Hermione.” Victor was frowning and shaking his head.

She could tell her being so upset and her new pseudonym delighted him.

“Calm down, ‘Mrs. Krum’,” and he took her hand. “Even though you are beautiful when you are angry. Your eyes spark--” His last words were a bit slurred and his eyes were slowly closing.

“He’s still bleeding in case anyone hasn’t noticed,” she sulked.

The healer waved his wand and Viktor’s head was suddenly as bald as a billiard ball exposing a curving seven-inch gash running along the side of his skull, looking like he’d almost been scalped.

“Well, well. She’s right.” He raised an eyebrow in annoyance at the steady flow of blood, “Don’t know how I missed that.”

“It was the same snake that attacked Mr. Weasley.”

“Weasley? Weasley, ah, that red-haired family--We know the Weasleys, especially those twins. But there was another one in here just now. Well, I’ll look up the records.”

“Yes, there was an antidote of some sort—“

“Right then, Accio—which Weasley was it?”

“Arthur.” Hermione stamped her foot.

“Accio the Arthur Weasley file.” It came flapping through the door of the ward. “Now, let us see, ah yes—now I remember.”

The doors to the ward opened again and Remus and Bill, sitting in floating lawn chairs and holding buckets, came through. Both were heaving and sweating black ooze. There was a Healer, Augustus Pye, with them. He was tall and had bright blue eyes, short black hair and a thick mustache.

“Say Augustus,” said Smethwyck, “I already sent that lot upstairs to spell damage. They are obviously de-cursing.”

Pye blew out his exasperation and his black mustache rippled in the breeze of his exhalation. “And they were sent back down to us.”

Just at that moment Remus gave a huge retch and pints of black liquid spewed from his mouth into the bucket he was holding.

“Oh, just kill me now,” Remus murmured as he wiped his mouth on a towel already nearly pitch black from previous wipings.

“Yes, these two are quite obviously de-cursifying, they belong up on the fourth floor,” said Smethwyck becoming annoyed.

“Well, yes, that’s what I said.” Pye sniffed, as if his feelings had been mortally wounded, “And they said it was a werewolf’s bite they were both recovering from and that was one hundred percent our lookout. And, by the way, there was some sort of Ministry melee and there are dozens of Aurors and such up there at spell damage. People hexed all over the place. So if you want to head up there and argue it--”

“Ridiculous! Werewolf bites are incurable! There is no recovery!”

Hermione had had enough! “Excuse me, but he’s still bleeding out. Could someone please pay a bit of attention?”

“Very well, Healer Pye. We’ll take them. Good neighbor policy, pitching in and all that. But I won’t hold for this sort of nonsense in future.

“Oh, what is it now?”

Right at that moment Fleur flounced into the ward. “My future ‘usband, where eez he?”

Bill waved his hand as his mouth was at that point otherwise engaged.

“Oh, my poor, sweet dearheart,” she quickly crossed to his side.

“Is Tonks out there?” asked a thoroughly miserable Remus.

“She eez still filling out forms,” said Fleur wiping the black sweat on Bill’s face with a dainty French lace handkerchief.

Pye helped the two Wizards onto beds, his eyes rolling in martyrdom. “Recovering from a werewolf curse, indeed. What do they take us for?”

“But that eez correct!” said Fleur with her eyes flashing. “They are both recovering from the curse of Lycanthropy.”

Smethwyck took Fleur to task. “My dear lady. Every day someone comes up with some reputed ‘cure’. Muggle Oil, that’s all it is, pure Muggle Oil. There is no cure. The current potion we have was a breakthrough based on long—“

Fleur produced the silver knife, still streaked with Fenrir’s blood. “Theeez knife is pure silver and blessed by ma grandmere, a Veela. It lifted the curse, when I killed him.”

Smethwyck went pale. “You-you killed a werewolf?” he swallowed, “with that?”

“Oui,” Fleur gave a little nod of her head and then with a swish of her wand she did a quick cleansing spell as Bill had missed the bucket on his last heave.

“Oh, dear. Mustn’t let word of that get out, or we’ll have a Lycanthropic bloodbath.”

“I shall keep eet under my ‘at.” She dabbed Bill’s forehead with her handkerchief. It was obviously charmed to accept any liquid and not become soggy or dirty.

“Will someone take care of Viktor?” Viktor’s eyes were closed and he was pale. Hermione held his hand and it was growing cold.

“Right on it.” Smethwyck scurried out of the ward still pawing through the file.

Mouth pursed, Pye eyed the two recovering, soon to be ex-Lycanthropes. He was taking it rather quite personally. He then turned to Hermione and Viktor.

“What do we have here?”

“Same snake bite as Arthur Weasley had 18 months ago,” said Hermione with a sigh.

Pye waved his wand, “Just needs a topping up of blood.”

Viktor’s color improved, but he still did not open his eyes.

“Yes, I remember that case. We tried stitches but they didn’t work. Complementary medicine you know. Always on the look out for new techniques.”

“Well, could you try stitching him up? We need to staunch this flow.”

“Actually, the stitches didn’t work for Mr. Weasley. And his wife was rather sticky about us using such experimental techniques on her husband. Let’s just keep to tried and true methods, shall we?”

He waved his wand. Nothing happened. He gave a second wave, again with no result. In fact the blood seemed to be welling up a bit faster. Hermione enchanted another towel to sop up the steady trickle.

“Same snake you say?” said Pye with a nervous twitch of his mouth.

“Yes.” Hermione was exhausted and the fight was draining from her as fast as blood was leaving Viktor.

Suddenly the ward door burst open and Scrimgeour was there with a half dozen wizards including someone Hermione recognized as Marcellus Bixby.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. You can’t all be in here!” said Pye, raising his voice in outrage.

“Ministry business!” said Scrimgeour. He took a step forward but was pushed aside by a black robed Wizard sporting a pointed black beard.

“There he is,” he said in a thick East European accent. “Our national hero. But what is wrong with him?”

Hermione raised her wand, “Everybody out! Now! Mr. Bixby what is going on?”

Bixby surveying the situation quickly said, “Let’s take this to the hallway, shall we gentlemen?”

Hermione turned to Fleur, “Please keep an eye on Viktor. They need to keep topping him up on the blood.”

“I shall watch ‘eem,” said Fleur with a slight nod of her head.

Hermione headed out to the hallway, “Now what is this about?”

Scrimgeour interrupted before Bixby could say anything, “Were you in the circle when Voldemort died?”

“Yes,” Hermione felt a shiver go through her. It had been such a short time ago and already the inquiry was starting.

“Was it Potter or Krum who killed him?”

Bixby came close and took Hermione’s arm in support, “You don’t have to answer to him or be afraid. But if it were Viktor—“

“Of course it was Krum. He is a Bulgarian!” shouted the Wizard with the pointy beard. Multilingual chaos broke out giving Hermione a chance to think.

“How much do people already know?” she asked Bixby.

“Well, according to Ron and Harry when I spoke to them upstairs,” said Bixby quietly, “it was Viktor.”

Harry lying? Hermione didn’t believe it. “What did they actually say?”

Scrimgeour interrupted, “Potter said he didn’t kill Voldemort, that someone else did it.” Scrimgeour’s eyes widened, “It wasn’t you, was it?”

“Oh, no,” said Hermione.

“Well, at the end” said Bixby, “there was only the Death Eaters, Voldemort, Potter, Weasley, Shacklebolt, Krum and you in the circle. Harry Apparated after insisting it wasn’t him. Ron says it was neither him nor Shacklebolt and that he couldn’t make out what was happening across the circle. That just leaves you and Viktor as the possible dispatchers of Voldemort.”

Hermione screwed up her courage and blurted out, “Severus Snape destroyed Voldemort with the giant snake’s fang.”

There was a very pregnant pause before Scrimgeour snorted, “Very amusing, but Snape killed Albus Dumbledore, as his reward to the man for keeping him from Azkaban. And when we find him, I swear the mistake will be rectified. It will be straight to Azkaban with him. So the truth, now! We can use Veritaserum if we must, young lady.”

She felt faint. Severus was still in her pocket in doll form. If they took her to the Ministry and forced the truth from her--What if the Ministry didn’t care that Severus was a hero and only focused on his killing Dumbledore? Would they even bother converting him back to human form, or would they just put him in a showcase somewhere? He was in even greater danger now and it was because of her. She dared not tell the truth or risk turning him over.

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes. “Viktor Krum killed Voldemort. And he’s going to die if he doesn’t get immediate help.”

“Ah-hah! What did I tell you!” shouted the man with the pointy beard, “A Bulgarian rescued your precious country from the dark Wizard!”

She headed back into the hospital ward.

Fleur was next to Viktor’s bed. He was now clean and dressed in a hospital gown. A fresh towel was wrapped around his head.

“Thanks, Fleur,” said Hermione as she pulled up a chair.

“Hermione, you did right,” said Bixby as he pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed. “I have a couple of things to say to you and then I’ll leave you alone. That is unless you want me to stay here while you take a break and get cleaned up.”

“What is it?”

“That man dressed in black out there is the leader of the opposition party in Bulgaria. You know that Viktor takes a keen interest in politics. His birth mother was Minister of Magic before she was assassinated. He was only three years of age at the time, barely remembers her. And then his father re-married. And we’ve had many a fascinating discussion on the subject of Wizard and Muggle rights over at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“He’s not mentioned it to me. I didn’t know that you two had become close,” Hermione felt both tired and exasperated by the conversation. On top of that, Viktor had never told her that Mrs. Krum was his step-mum. What else hadn’t he told her?

“Yes. We have.” He took Viktor’s hand. “Viktor is very strong, so stop worrying. He loves you very much, Hermione. If anything brings him back it will be his love for you.

“However, there is something you need to do for him.”

“What is it, Mr. Bixby?”

“Get out of his way,” he said quietly. “There is a strong chance of him becoming the next Minister of Magic in Bulgaria. If this happens, things will become better in his country, both for the Wizarding community and for the Muggles and Muggle born. But it won’t happen if you marry him. He might be accepted with a Muggle-born Bulgarian wife, but not a British one.”

At first it felt as if he’d slapped her, but then, miraculously, it was as a twenty stone weight had been lifted from her heart. She didn’t have to marry Viktor! She didn’t have to give up her dreams. Tears filled her eyes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well—“

Just then Smethwyck dashed in with a vial, “Here it is! Prepared it fresh myself--straight from the notes I used to create the Weasley antidote.” He lifted Viktor’s pale face and squeezed a dropper full into his mouth.

The three watched as the steady flow of blood from his head wound slowed and then stopped. Smethwyck flicked his wand at the wound. After a few seconds of expectant watching, he frowned. “That’s not right. My spell should have healed that wound. We stopped the flow.”

Pye walked over to them. “They had the same problem with that Auror Shacklebolt upstairs. Tell me, Mrs. Krum. Was he in a circle enchanted by You-know-who when he was injured?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well. There we have it,” said Pye.

Smethwyck narrowed his eyes, “Have what, Augustus?”

“Finally an application for complementary medicine. They had to use a Muggle devise called a plaster cast upstairs. It will take days, if not weeks for the leg to heal. Something in the circle left a residual curse canceling out, even repelling, healing spells. I’ll go get the sutures! Thank goodness more people weren’t in there!” he beamed.

“Well, this has been a remarkable day!” Smethwyck shook his head in amazement as Pye left. “Werewolf cures and stitches. I need to go home and have a stiff drink!”

Hermione watched as they stitched up Viktor’s wound. His color was finally good. The healers decided to put Viktor under a healing rest spell so he’d sleep through the night and Bixby offered to stay with him.

Hermione Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, still extremely concerned for the Wizard in her pocket.

&&&

It came as no surprise to Hermione that the double wedding set for Midsummer’s Day was cancelled. However, she was shocked to learn upon her arrival at St. Mungo’s the next morning that Viktor, Bill and Remus were all to ready to leave the hospital and that the wedding was rescheduled for the next day.

Hermione escorted Viktor to his rooms at the Leaky Cauldron where she spent her time attempting to keep Viktor in bed and resting.

It wasn’t easy.

A steady stream of teammates, reporters and well-connected supporters with gifts let him do anything but rest. Viktor was much surprised to discover that he’d killed Voldemort, but accepted it in stride.

Around lunchtime, Marcellus Bixby showed up with his wife Agnes and his two small children in tow. Agnes convinced Hermione to take a break and get some fresh air while her husband and Viktor chatted. Hermione, Agnes and her kids had some stew for lunch downstairs and then roamed around a newly reinvigorated and still celebrating Diagon Alley. Even Fortesque’s was up and running and doing lots of business, though Hermione didn’t see the proprietor about.

Hermione began to feel slightly more at ease, and yet it was like she was wrapped in cotton wool. She couldn’t feel much of anything, least of all share in the joyous festivities she found going on all around her.

When Hermione got back, Viktor was finally alone. Bixby had cast a bright sign on Viktor’s door, “No More Visitors!” and had told Tom the Innkeeper to let people know the Quidditch star needed his rest if he was to be back on the pitch in timely fashion.

“You will rest now,” she sat on the bed next to him and leaned down. They kissed tenderly.

“You look tired, too,” he said drawing her body all the way down next to her.

She cuddled into his arms and fell asleep.

She dreamed of cloudy forms and ghostly steeds stampeding around her and a full sized Severus Snape, now made out of china, appeared in the mist. He stretched out his arms seeming to beg her help, only to be hit with a battle-axe by one of the ghostly riders. He cracked and fell into a thousand pieces.

She woke with a scream, and was comforted by Viktor stroking her face and whispering it was all right. It was dark outside the window and she realized that they had slept for quite a while.

He held her close to him and she felt his erection through her clothes. She reached a decision.

“Viktor, do you feel well enough to make love to me?”

He squeezed her even tighter. “Of course. I shall make you orgasm over and over,” he laughed. He kissed her and drew her robes up over her head.

“I want you to be my first lover. I trust you.” She pulled off her knickers as Viktor removed his nightshirt.

“I shall be your only lover. We are getting married, are we not?”

“Viktor, no, I can’t marry you. But I still want you to be my first. I always want to remember you.”

“This is about my return to Bulgaria, isn’t it” he growled. “Who told you? Bixby?”

“It’s not important. You weren’t going to tell me?”

“Nothing to tell. They showed up while Bixby was here. Their offer of political support was based on my leaving you, something I would never do. They don’t believe I can become Minister of Magic in Bulgaria with a British wife.”

“A British Muggle-born wife.”

“I gave them a good piece of my mind. I told them that I’d go back and campaign with you by my side and prove them all wrong, but they said no. So bugger them all! I stay here playing Quidditch and we stay together.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“I can’t do that to you. I don’t know if it’s because I love you too much or not enough, but you can’t pass up this opportunity because of me. I want you to make love to me and then,” she sighed, “I want you to go back to Bulgaria and get yourself elected.

“Viktor, there was always something so special about you. I know that you will make a great leader.”

“Watching you in the library all those years ago, always studying--not like those girls who come to my matches and scream.” He stroked her face with his finger. “You are special, too. We belong together.”

She kissed him, tears running down her face. “I want you--now.”

“I love you,” he said with a catch in his throat.

She relished the feeling of his warm skin against hers. The hair on his scalp, Wizard fashion, had already re-grown overnight to the soft, short cut he normally wore. His chest hair tickled her nose. She reached down and touched his erection. She was a bit frightened that no man would ever love her as much as he did. And she felt the fool knowing that in spite of his love, her heart was already divided three ways.

She’d given up on Ron, and didn’t know if she’d ever be with Severus again. But what she was doing, then and there now with Viktor was right, felt right. She didn’t want him for a lifetime, but he was the one who had given her her first kiss and then later her first orgasm and she wanted him to be the one to take her maidenhood.

“Hermione.” There was a look on his face, which broke her heart, and then two large tears fell from his eyes. He held her and she felt him shaking against her. “Hermione, you are my life. One more time: will you marry me?”

She pulled away, “No, Viktor.”

She thought he was going to start sobbing, but he controlled himself. He nodded. “I am at your disposal.”

“Make love to me, then.”

He smiled sadly and took her in his arms. “Tonight will be a night that we will both remember for a lifetime,” he whispered. “Wherever the two of us go, no matter whomever we are with--there will always be this night.”

Hermione’s hands wandered over his back. His body was strongly built, but there were the raised ridges of scars, in a helter-skelter of disorder, ribboning all over his beautiful body. She ran her finger along the raised edge of one of his scars. “Viktor? Where did these scars come from?”

“In Durmstrang, one must pass many tests of one’s skill. The price of failure is death, but to survive is magnificent.”

Hermione kissed the scar on his shoulder nearest to her. She ran her finger along the raised edge of another. He lay there allowing her attentions, trembling under her touch.

“You must instruct me as to what you would like. I shall do my best to make your body sing.”

“I want you inside of me.” She reached down from his back to his engorged cock and ran her thumb across the tip. Viktor gasped and brought his mouth over hers for a long, passionate kiss.

He reached down and stroked her nub. He dipped his finger inside of her, feeling her wetness and spreading it about her inner labia.

“This will hurt but a moment. I shall be using a spell.”

Hermione wanted to protest that she didn’t need magic, but then felt a searing pain inside of her that just as quickly departed. Viktor handed her a small, sealed, golden vial.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“They do not teach sex magics at Hogwarts?”

She fingered the golden vial, it was inscribed with runes. “No, they don’t. It’s looked upon as—“

“Dark Magic! Ah, you British.” He kissed her gently. “I used a spell to collect and preserve your maidenhead blood. There is much important and very strong magic that you can use this for. Especially in potions.”

Hermione blushed. She doubted even Severus would know what to do with it, but then again, hadn’t he been some sort of expert on Dark Magic? She sighed, “So that’s it?”

“No. Unless that’s all you want. To pass what in your country are considered N.E.W.T.s, at Durmstrang I had to stay hard for fifteen hours straight. With my partner we completed every single position in the Kama Sutra.”

“Kama Sutra?”

“Yes, you have heard of it?”

“Not really.” Hermione was re-thinking her turning Viktor’s marriage proposal down. “Fifteen hours you say?” That was a lot better than the twenty minutes with a cock ring.

“Yes. I could show you some of the easier positions. Is this something you would enjoy?” He teased her neck with his mouth.

“Oh, yes. I think I might.”

He continued to kiss her, going from throat to breast to stomach. Finally, he lowered himself between her legs, slipping them over his shoulders.

“First, the ‘quivering kiss’,” and he kissed her inner labia. “And now, the Jihva-bhramanaka, the ‘circling tongue’.”

Somewhere between the ‘Chusita’ and the ‘Bahuchusita’ Hermione lost all control and came. Viktor continued to ply his knowledge with her until she thought she might never be able to walk again.

“Wouldn’t you like to—to be satisfied as well?” she panted after her fourth orgasm.

“I gain much more pleasure from pleasuring you.”

“Well, I think it might be my pleasure to pleasure you for a while and then maybe we’ll sleep a bit?” she said, feeling as if the top of her head might come off if she came one more time.

“As you desire,” he practically purred. “I don’t suppose they taught you any contraceptive spells at Hogwarts?”

“No, but one can purchase all sorts of potions to take either before or after sex. And our medi-nurse never asked questions, if you needed one.”

“Again, sex magic treated as dark magic, I expect. Only Death Eaters’ wives and Scarlet Witches probably know these spells. He murmured a quick enchantment and touched her stomach with his wand. “There, no babies possible for about a week.”

Lifting and spreading her legs, this time with her ankles to his shoulders, he took his cock and stroked it against her outer labia until the fold parted for him. He slowly entered her. “This is a good position for someone who is still very tight. And you are incredibly so.” He pulled back a little, the head still inside her and then entered her centimeter by centimeter. He stopped often and she enjoyed his soft moans of pleasure.

Hermione felt strange being folded in two, with her ankles practically at her ears, but it did help her body open for him, accommodating his large size. She had been worried that he was too big; however, the discomfort she felt was mild compared to the pleasure she felt as he stroked her clitoris. Her body relaxed and she started to enjoy his slow movement back and forth into her body.

Suddenly another orgasm cascaded through her and her inner walls grasped and tightened on him.

“I’m going to come now,” he gasped out.

Hot wetness flooded her as he grunted in release. She massaged his broad shoulders, feeling his entire body tremble beneath her hands.

“I love you. Please reconsider your decision. My heart is breaking.” He kissed her tenderly before falling asleep.

With a bit of effort she managed to crawl out from under him. She watched him as he snored and wondered if she would one day regret not going with him. Her mind went to the image of Severus naked and tied on the bed. No. No regrets and no looking back.

Even if things never worked out between her and Severus, Viktor deserved a woman who didn’t just love him, but was in love with him.

“Goodbye, Viktor.” She kissed her sleeping lover on the cheek and Apparated to Grimmauld Place to get a couple of hours sleep before she was due at the wedding at the Weasleys.


End of Bonus Chapter Part One.

Special thanks to my reviewers: Ash, Firewall, LittleBird, Pretty Delial, Jennifer, Anon, Killer Kadoogan, Medea, and Hypatia.