1
When the owl came Hermione pulled the soft linen of her cloak close, and flooed to the hospital. She didn't tell Ron in the next room, or floo Rose at the apothecary. She didn't check her hair, which was a tumbled mess of curls down her back so unlike the braid that had become her trademark; she left immediately because Severus needed her.
His breath the grate of granite against flesh, rasping, sickeningly wet, each shallow and hard fought. Hermione sits at the edge of his bed, and holds his hand tightly, tracing the stains of years of brewing, and the mottling of near death.
Severus struggles to raise himself up, she raises him with soft pillows; and then wets his mouth, corners dry and flaking with a flannel, as he tries and fails to slap her hands away.
He starts to speak and she can't help the tear that slips down her cheek; his voice, gone. The resonant timbre that soothed when she was crushed to his chest, a jarring hoarse whisper.
"I have left everything to you, and Rose."
The tears flow.
"Sushh don't talk."
She kisses his cheek, his forehead, his cold hands. He presses his hand to her cheek, and takes another shallow breath,
"Promise …me..you will live...well...you deserve..better...than an imbecile and" He shudders his next breath, "the memory of a dead cripple warming your bed."
Hermione stares at him, she can make no such promises. How can he not know this? How can he not even on his death bed understand she would have left Ron a lifetime ago if he had allowed it?
She makes some placating sound and it is enough.
She grips his chilled hands tighter, "Do you remember the first time I kissed you?"
He smiles chapped lips cracking, and nods.
"I would have left Ron for you if you had let me."
A tear blooms and falls, "Children need a father."
Hermione lips form a rueful moue, "You were more a father to my swot than Ron ever was."
Severus is silent, Hermione wonders if he's dozed off, his body is weak from years of curses it happens, but he turns his head towards her again, his eyes remain bright and if glazed.
"Hugo.. needed his father..." Severus drifts in silence for a few breaths, "he needed that paragon of light...he needed a hero."
Hermione knows this is true, Hugo her fragile child who needed the mantle of child of heroes, who believed deeply in the quintessence of his parents and Uncle Harry's bravery. Even now he looks for his father's recognition. No he would have flailed with Severus, as much if not more than Rose had bloomed under Severus' watchful eye.
"Tell Rose I cared for her deeply."
Her tears came too fast, she sobs, "Rose knows Severus"
"But you will tell her... She is the finest …..potioneer in a lifetime."
"I promise."
His breathing slows, "My Hermione...The course of true love... never did run smooth.."
Hermione feels fear wrap its fingers around her heart and squeeze, she will be alone, Severus will be gone, who will love her now?
"Not in this lifetime my love, but I promise you, you shall be mine when I pass the veil."
Severus eyes rest on her face, "I ..regret few things...never you my love...I wait ….beyond the veil"
He takes his last breath wet and rattling from fluid filled lungs, eyes taking in every nuance of Hermione. His eyes flutter half closed as he exhales. Hermione gently finishes closing them, so she can lay the sickles.
2
Rose sits at the side of the bed in what used to be Severus' room, Hugo stands at the door. He hates it here, hates that Mother divorced their Father to live in a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere. Rose knows her brother is a fool, like their Father before him oblivious to the obvious. It's been decades and still he doesn't understand.
Mother had been unhappy from before Rose could remember, Dad was far from a intellectual, and too often any discussion was ended with careless insults from Dad, tearful silence from Mother laid over with frail smiles.
Here in this village filled with intellectuals, misfits, and other socially damaged sorts, Mother was happy' she didn't find love, but Rose thought that beyond her anyway, love had been buried with Severus sixty years before.
No, as Rose watched her Mother sleep she knew Mother had lived as much as she could, for her children, grand and great grandchildren. She'd done her best to improve the world, doing what she could as she waited for death, for her love.
Rose couldn't find the heart to begrudge her that.
Now Mother was letting go, they had their last talks, emotionally tiring discussions on life, war, love, and not fearing death. Left unsaid, because Severus is waiting for me.
If Rose had been less observant she would have missed the last breath, it was soft like a baby's breath, unlike every book she had read description. Yet Mother's chest stilled, and a spell proved she was gone.
Rose let Hugo place the silver sickles on Mother's closed eyes for Charon's obol.
3
Harry had been to a train station, Hermione expected the same, atleast something in the same transportation line. It was hard to know what to expect ,Harry was the only person who had ever returned to her knowledge. Instead there was a cottage.
The setting was so quintessentially English she should have laughed, thatched roof, a proliferation of flowers all colours and sizes, a small table for two sitting amongst the mass of colour in the garden, a slight chill in the air even with bright sun out.
Severus standing at the door, white shirt sleeves rolled up, black pants perfectly seamed, face looking at her in amazement.
Hermione takes two stumbled steps, Severus one, then they are running, he stops and braces himself for her leap into his arms, their kiss passionate, greedy.
He doesn't say it but she knows even as he prepared and hoped, there was a small part of him that wondered, and worried that she would not be here when she passed.
She doesn't say it but he knows, she feared that maybe there was a part of his soul owned by a red head, green eyed witch that may have prevented them from this.
She touches his face, smooth and youthful, before trailing her fingers through his hair, thick and jet black.
"I missed you my love."
"And I you."