Hermione loved looking out the window during winter. She just sat on the couch beside the window, and stared out to take in the view. Snow covered the ground, and a frost covered window to make it hard to make out what was out the windowpane. Hermione pulled the blanket that was on the back of the chair behind her over herself. With a sigh, she huddled under its warmth.
Outside an icicle fell from where it had formed on the side of the house and shattered on the window still. The pieces of ice looked like glass shards that sparkled and glinted in the dim sunlight. A branch swayed in the cold wind and screeched as it scraped against the glass.
"Are you cold?"
Hermione jumped at the sound of a voice. She turned toward the sound and saw Severus looking at her. A clear affection was displayed in his eyes as he looked at her.
She shrugged. "Not really."
She watched him intently as she strode across the room towards her. His stride was long because of his lean frame. She enjoyed watching him, watching his long legs move gracefully and carry the rest of him to her.
"Then why the blanket?"
She shrugged again. A feeling of contentment warmed her heart immediately from both his company and the fact she was in her favorite place in the whole world besides his arms. "Effect."
He smiled at her softly.
She shifted her position, leaning forward slightly. "Join me," she requested.
He slid deftly behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back against him and sighed with contentment. He hands rested on her swollen stomach, stroking it softly. She didn't mind that it was still odd when people insisting on touching her stomach now that she was pregnant; she certainly didn't mind when he touched her stomach. She closed her eyes to savor the delicious moment of herself in her love's arms in her favorite and most comforting spot with their child.
---
Severus looked up at the man and glared at him. "Don't say that." His tone was murderous, a clear threat to the person he was speaking to.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Snape," the man apologized.
Snape practically snarled. The man took a step backward unconsciously and looked fearful. He had a right to since Snape was known for his cold, uncaring demeanor, his black past, and his anger.
Taking a deep breath to try to study himself, Snape turned his back on the man. He tried to breathe evenly but found it very hard. A roaring of anger and frustration overwhelmed him. He slammed his fist down on table next to him.
He heard the man scuttled away behind him, but didn't turn. His emotions were black, a cold pain forming his heart as the news set in.
"Gone," he whispered in a voice laced with both fear and anger. The man had been professional when he told him, and for some reason that angered Severus. "She's special," he whispered to no one. It was as if the man had been saying she was nothing more than a casualty, just another casualty that the man saw daily.
"Mr. Snape," a soft femimine voice said from behind him. He turned to the woman. She looked afraid of him also; the fear was blatant in her eyes, but he had to give her credit that her voice didn't show it. "Did you want to cold your son?"
"My son?" he repeated blankly. His sudden frustration and anger transformed into a slow numbness as if he couldn't comprehend what was going on around him.
She nodded, her face expressionless. "Your son. You haven't named him yet, though."
He nodded. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing with but she took it as a yes to wanting to hold his son and scurried off. She came back a mere moment later with a buddle of what looked like white blankets cradled in her arms. "Here he is."
She handed the buddle over to him without looking at his face, and took quick and rapid steps away from him.
Severus looked down at what she had handed him and saw a baby looking back at him. The baby looked unhappy and squirmed in his arms, but Severus rocked him. It was an instinct; he didn't realize he was doing it until the baby calmed. "My son," he whispered in a pained voice. "Her son. Our son." The words seemed to fall out his mouth.
"What will his name be?"
Severus' head snapped up as he realized the woman was still watching him. Her expression had soften, but she still seemed uneasy.
"Granger."
She gave him a look that clearly stated how strange she thought the name was, but didn't protest. "Granger Snape."
"Granger Peter Snape," he corrected her. Peter had been the name she had wanted to name their son. She had been so excited, so sure that they would be great parents. Now she was gone, and he was alone to raise the little person that was in his arms. "He's named after his mother," he whispered unsure why he felt he had to tell the stranger the information.
He noticed her nod out of the corner of his eye before she slipped out of the room to give him and his song a moment alone.
"Your mom loved you," he whispered. 'You would have loved her… Everyone did." He sighed.
---
Severus found it telling that his son always stared out the window during the first snowfall. His mother had been the same way; Hermione had loved the view from the window especially when it was blanketed with snow.
"Get away from the window," he told his son absent-mindedly.
Granger grinned at him. He knew the story; he knew why it was uncomfortable for his father to see him so comfortable in his mother's favorite spot. He never let it stop him, because looking out the window at his mother's favorite view while sitting in his mother's favorite spot made him feel close to her.