He shook his head. "I built up my walls slowly and always had a chance to lower the shields for a while. I thought they had changed the name of Occlumency-poisoning?"

"I came across it in an old periodical I found in Regulus's old room. I suppose he...somehow suffered from it," she explained, and sat up straighter in his lap. She was sitting in his lap. Smiling. Discussing things with him. Without being bored. At almost three in the morning.

"Why should he have?"

"Because of the Horcrux, the locket," she said and puzzled him further.

"I know there were Horcruxes involved," he said, his fingers twitching on her thigh, "but what did Regulus Black do with Occlumency?"

"Oh, shite, yeah, you don't know about that," she ranger her fingers through her hair. "He discovered one and he took it. So I suppose that..."

"He what?" interrupted Severus and was tempted to shove her off his lap but didn't. She would have taken it wrong. It wasn't that he wanted her off his lap, he just wanted to hear this. Regulus...

She took a deep breath. "Regulus broke with, you know, and somehow, and we have no idea how, he figured out that there were Horcruxes. Or at least one. It's a long story but basically..."

"Kreacher," Severus said voicelessly. "Regulus was angry because of the elf..."

Hermione nodded slowly. "And he figured out that it was a Horcrux but couldn't destroy it. So my theory is that he actually did too much Occlumency at once, hence got poisoned, hence wasn't all himself when he went to the lake-island-place and that's why he died. And the Inferi, of course," she explained eagerly.

"He would have had to learn it quite fast," he said pensively, then let out a long, long breath. "Regulus..."

"Sorry, I thought you knew," she shrugged and made an apologetic face.

"I should have known," he said pensively. "And..."

"How could you have known? I assume you know didn't tell all of his Death Eaters about Horcruxes and he couldn't have known that Regulus had the locket. He died in 79, I mean...if he had known, he would have had time to make more or..."

Severus shook his head. He should have known. Regulus had been...he had always thought that Regulus had just vanished. Had turned his back to the Death Eaters and hadn't been able to stand his torture. I always thought..."

"No, don't...Severus. You couldn't have known."

"Hm," he said and felt his head pulled tighter against her again .This contact was...nice. She reassured him and she obviously wasn't disgusted by him. They talked — more or less openly — about his past. About what he had done and she still sat on his lap. She still hugged him. She pulled him tighter and she let him touch her. It blew his mind.

"Anyway, that's where I found the article on Occlumency-poisoning."

"And you think he might have researched ways to counter it?" he asked, glad that she had changed the topic back.

"I don't know. I mean from what you said, your symptoms were rather like Occlumency-poisoning. On the other hand..."

"No. As far as I know, acute Occlumency-poisoning is the absolute inability to think and to react rationally. I had no problem acting rationally. The rationality was all that was left. Quite the opposite."

She hummed softly. "Am I too heavy?"

"No," he said immediately, sneaking his free arm around her waist.

"Can you test magical property? Are there potions? Oh, hang on," she straightened up, then stood up, leaving him feeling rather — cold. Why had she stood up. "Kreacher?" she said softly.

A second later, the old house elf appeared. "I'm sorry if I woke you, Kreacher," she said immediately and kneeled down on the floor to be the same height as the ancient elf. The view he had from where he sat was rather worth losing her from his lap. He had to hide the smirk. Very beautiful behind. Very.

"Kreacher lives to serve," the elf bowed.

"Kreacher, we wondered...did Regulus have Occlumency-poisoning?"

The elf began to wail. It was a terrible, high-pitched noise and if Potter had slept, he would be woken now at least. Still, he pulled out his wand and, he wasn't sure why, cast a Silencing Charm on the room. The boy would wake up as well and he didn't want to deal with an irate Potter in the middle of the night because a stupid elf had woken his godson.

"Poor, good Master Regulus. Poor, poor Master Regulus. Couldn't think anymore but had to hide his thoughts. Good Master Regulus."

Severus shot Hermione a look and she nodded at him. "Did he try to find a cure for that?" she asked, probably still trying that they could find out this way about tears. Without having to have to find a way to figure out if there were magical properties to tears first.

Kreacher pulled on his ears. "Kreacher wanted good Master Regulus but good Master Regulus had to go find the evil locket."

Hermione sighed again. "Thank you, Kreacher. I'm so sorry we woke you."

"Kreacher found books for good Master Regulus to make him better," the elf ignored his dismissal and bowed.

"You did?"

"Kreacher, could you bring them?"

"Good Master Severus. Good Master Regulus liked Master Severus," the elf flashed his teeth in what could be construed as a smile and popped away. Regulus had liked him? Those were news to him but...he was dead. So many people dead and Regulus was only one of the names. Still, how different could it have been if he had known about Regulus? About what he had done? He had understood sooner than Severus how evil this all had been. Little Regulus. He snorted to himself and only noticed now that Hermione was watching him with a worried frown on her face.

"What is it?" she asked and he instantly shook his head.

"It's of no importance."

"Remembering?"

"Yes," he nodded and she straightened again and kissed his cheek.

Kreacher was incredibly helpful. He had not only got up in the middle of the night for them but had obeyed Snape straight away and had made them a fresh pot of tea. The table had been littered with books after only a few minutes and she and he sat hunched over them happily, sipping tea, reading. His hand had some time found its way to her thigh as she sat next to him and she had then covered his with hers as they had read and checked for facts.

Hermione thought that the chance to find something in those books were slim to none — about the property of tears — but he had more or less asked her opinion and she wanted to help him. Maybe they could work something out together and it was fun. He grumbled when he read and snorted and made cute noises when he disagreed with something he read.

She had to admit that she had snuggled closer and that she had to hide her yawn once in a while. That her eyelids were dropping and the letters swam in front eyes from time to time but he kept reading and she certainly didn't want to throw him out, or ask him to leave. She wanted him to stay there and she wished she could just put her head on his shoulder and sleep. Terribly strong urge to just put her head there. But she didn't and she wouldn't and she just kept on reading even though it was hard to read and it was only his presence and his soft and gentle noises, the questions she sometimes had to ask, and the answers he gave her in a soft voice (as Kreacher was sleeping noisily in the corner of the room to be at their disposal), that kept her from it.

She never thought she could so comfortably read in the presence of another.

Harry had barely slept. He had thought he had dropped off briefly in Teddy's room when he heard a wail, or the beginning of a wail from Kreacher but it was over before it had begun and it had probably just been a figment of his imagination. Most likely. Teddy had snored gently and he had let the breathing lull him into a sense of peace, even if it wasn't sleep.

Teddy was his priority. But there were parents and there were patchwork-families and partners who accepted other children. He hadn't told Noel about Teddy...but that night, when he had watched his godson sleep and had listened to him sleep, he realised that it wasn't necessary yet. Hermione would have even cancelled her thing with Snape for Ted. And he didn't doubt that Ron was perfectly ready to be at home with him as well. And if he could meet Noel once in a while...that would be alright for the time being. And if it turned out to be something more, then he could always...introduce them.

But he was...Noel was a he, and while he knew rationally that nobody would have a problem with it, the problem seemed to be more in himself. What if he hadn't ended things with Ginny because she looked like his mother but because she was a girl? What if he hadn't had sex with Ginny because he didn't like to have sex with girls? He hadn't...well, he had thought about blokes while...touching himself...but he hadn't taken it so serious. Or he had taken it serious but he hadn't wanted to. And if there were blokes in his future, what would he do in terms of fatherhood? He wanted Teddy to have a sibling eventually. And with another bloke, that just wasn't possible.

He would have to think more about this. More and maybe meet Noel and check and kiss a girl to see how it compared. Even though — he didn't want to kiss anyone but him. Shite.

Harry was glad when Teddy began to babble to himself and began to stand up in his bed and when he could pick him up from his bed.

"We'll get breakfast and then annoy Hermione, eh? Ask her how her date with the big old meanie Snape went, alright?"

"Sev'wus Snap!" Teddy grinned toothily.

"Yes, Sev'wus Snap. Big old meanie Snap!" Harry laughed. The boy never failed to make him laugh or smile.

Teddy nodded and snuggled his head into Harry's neck, sighing happily. He held the boy and walked carefully down the stairs, casting warming charms on them. The house was too cold to be running around in only shorts and a t-shirt and he was always very careful about Ted and whether he could catch a cold as well.

He pushed the door to the kitchen opened and shrank back instantly.

"What are you doing here? Still?"

"Harry, hi," a very bleary-eyed Hermione, her chair standing too close to Snape's turned around. She looked tired but still rather pretty.

"Good morning, Mister Potter," Snape turned as well and Harry could only now see that his hand was firmly on Hermione's thigh.

"Erm, you had a good night then?" he asked, grabbing the tea pot on the table and pouring himself a cup and Ted a bit of milk.

"Yes," Hermione answered and beamed. She bloody beamed. Harry couldn't remember a time when he had seen her this happy and this content.

"I should go home," Snape said and as he looked at Hermione, even Harry's bleary, unrested eyes caught it. There was bloody tenderness in his eyes and if he wasn't entirely mistaken, the hand on Hermione's thigh squeezed. Unimaginable. Snape like this.

"Yeah?" Hermione asked and stared at him.

Snape nodded and stood up rather stiffly from the chair.

"You spent all night here?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Yes," both of them said at the same time, then looked at one another and while Hermione burst out laughing, Snape only — smiled. Snape smiled. Smiled. At Hermione. Maybe he was dreaming. He was asleep, hadn't kissed a bloke, dreamed. Simple explanation.

"Do you want to take the books with you? Or should we do half-and-half? We could..."

"Would you show me the way out?" asked Snape and took two books, with a brandnew wand shrank them and shoved them into the back-pocket of his jeans. Jeans. Snape. Smiling. Hermione. Too much.

She smiled at him and because Harry wasn't sure whether he was dreaming or not, he followed them quietly. And it was his turn to stare.

Snape had suddenly wrapped his arms around his best friend and hugged her close to his body. Smiled at her, and bent his head and kissed her. Kissed Hermione. Snape stood in the corridor of Grimmauld Place and kissed Hermione.

Harry rubbed his eyes. He had heard it from her but seeing it was something completely different. And Hermione seemed to kiss back with equal fervour. They snogged. They bloody snogged. This wasn't kissing anymore. Snogging. This was snogging.

But — if he had looked even half as happy as both of them did when he had snogged Noel...his future was clear as well.

91. Insertion Sequence

It often happens that a question-answer sequence will be delayed while another question-answer sequence intervenes. The sequence will then take the for of Q1-Q2-A2-A1, with the middle pair (Q2-A2) being called an insertion sequence. Although there appears to be a question (Q2) tin response to a questions (Q1), the assumption is that once the second part (A2) of the insertion sequence is provided, the second part (A1) of the initial question (Q1) will follow. This pattern is illustrated as follows:

Agent: Do you want the early flight (=Q1)

Client: What time does it arrive? (=Q2)

Agent: Nine forty-five (=A2)

Client: Yeah — that's great! (=A1)

(Yule, 1998)

His fingers itched dreadfully. Her thigh was wonderfully warm and soft and silky and his fingers wanted to inch upwards and touch her. Her. Her tongue did wicked things to his neck and his cheek and his ear and she pressed herself against him but when his hands wandered underneath her skirt — she stopped, breathing hard, staring wild-eyed at him.

"I can't, Draco," she said, panting, pushing his hands away and sitting up from her position on the couch. "I promised Gran. I wouldn't...you know. I promised her and..."

Draco had known. Draco had heard more than one very embarrassing lecture from Mrs Callaghan and he usually respected that but...he wanted Aideen. He loved Aideen. He honestly did. His eyes widened.

"I love you," he whispered softly, taking her hands in his.

"I...I love you too, but it won't change anything," she said sadly.

"We could get married."

"I don't want you to marry me just so you have, you know," she blushed slightly. "I don't want that. Most of those marriages fail anyway and if I want to get married, I want it to be forever."

Draco sat up straighter, then blinked. Why not marry her? He had, once or twice, briefly, thought about it. He was young, very young, and so was she. But hadn't they already lived through a lot? Her with the abduction and running away from him, taking him back when he had, in turn, ran from her and the intimacy and the feeling of being pushed away for what he had been. Her acceptance of him.