The knock on the door was hesitant, and not at all the sort of strong, confident knock that Hermione Weasley expected from her fellow Hogwarts teacher, Severus Snape.
He stood there, looking uncharacteristically nervous. His hands were clasped hard in front of him, as if letting them loose would be to have them flying everywhere. Hermione hurried him in and shut the door behind him.
"Severus! Goodness! What has happened?"
The potions teacher took a deep breath, and deliberately untangled his fingers. "Do you trust me, Hermione?"
"I do." She did, too. Now, twenty years after the war, when all was known of his motives and actions during that dark time, she trusted him wholly. He had, after all, proven himself the most loyal and able of Dumbledore's agents. His recovery from Nagini's near-fatal bite had meant the ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts had had time to be exonerated completely before he returned to his old position, and he had indicated approximately once every year since then that he really didn't want to be anything else. Life had been too unpredictable for too long. He liked certainty, steadiness and order.
And Hermione, who had become Muggle Studies Professor after Ron's death five years before, liked it that way too.
So this day, when Severus was looking as if the chaos of the world was falling on him, was not a day she wanted to happen. She sat the wizard down, and poured him a cup of tea from her Never-Cold teapot. (She was still working on preventing the tea being over-brewed, but this pot's worth was only thirty minutes old, and not too bad.).
"Why do you ask, Severus?"
"Because I want to ask you something, and I can only ask it if you trust me completely, as I trust you."
"Then ask, Severus."
"Will you marry me?"
Five minutes later, when she'd cleaned up the tea that had splashed everywhere when she dropped her cup in shock, she poured another pair of mugs worth and sat down to clarify what she had heard.
"Severus, you're a good friend, but why on earth do you want to marry me? We like each other well enough, but I think there needs to be more to base a marriage on. I have no idea if we're really compatible, and well, we're not in love. "
Severus snorted. "Love is probably the worst possible reason to base a marriage on. A lifetime of being together just because some sort of adolescent urges gave you a starry-eyed vision of someone else."
"There are worse reasons to get married." Hermione glanced over at her own copy of Wizarding throught the Ages: A Social History. It was her one contribution to the reference books in the library, and she was still proud of that research. "At least it's not a hundred years ago, and our parents' arranged it, or there was a law enforcing it, or something"…"
"No," said Severus, removing the last of the tea from his robes with a scouring spell from the end of his wand. "We don't have to, but I must. I'm… have you noticed anything different about me lately?"
"Different?" Hermione wrinkled her nose, trying to remember. "You've been very quiet since the War, and certainly not the snarky bat we had as a teacher. In fact, in the last few years you've been positively civil, even cordial at times."
"To you, maybe."
"Oh. Well, I can really only go on my own experience." She sipped her tea some more, and considered. "But why must you marry? It's not some foolish inheritance thing, is it? If it is, I'll only do it for a fair share."
He smiled for the first time since he had come into her office. "No, not at all like that. No, it's to do with my sanity."
"What?" There was almost a need for a second cleanup. Hermione managed to splurt her mouthful of tea back into her mug, then put it down and had a closer look at her fellow teacher.
His hair was certainly much greyer than it had been when he was a teacher of hers. His skin was perhaps more sallow, and his eyes had quite the collection of wrinkles about them, but there was nothing in the look that indicated a loss of sanity. But then, some people did not show any changes that way.
"You're the most sane person I know, Severus. Is someone making these accusations?"
"It's the Wizengamot, I haven't been well since the Final Battle of Hogwarts. You wouldn't know – nobody did – because there are pills and potions for things like this. But they're not working as well any more. I'm starting to forget what I'm doing, or mislay bills until they're overdue. And there are some on the committee who are just waiting for their chance to have me declared insane so that they can have my property for themselves." He put down the mug and placed his head in his hands. "And I can't see a way to stop them. I am going slowly insane. It's an inevitable result of some of the potions I was forced to create, and sometimes drink. There is no stopping it. But I don't want them to get everything."
"How much is 'everything'?"
"The house in Duckford, my savings for the last 20 years, and a full set of the Chocolate Frog cards."
"A full s… oh very funny, Severus. But I'm serious. Are you truly going to go insane? Is there nothing anyone can do about it?" She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, and started jotting down ideas.
"Nothing. It is inevitable. Why do you think so many of the ex-Death Eaters committed suicide over the last few years? It wasn't the remorse catching up with them. It was the effects of the potions. They knew that they'd lose their minds completely, and preferred to end it before then." Severus sighed. "I've managed to slow my own degeneration down significantly, but nothing will stop it."
"And there are those who, seeing you as a single Wizard without dependents, would have your worldly goods and funds for their own. That really isn't very nice."
"And if I were to top myself…"
"Severus! No!"
He laughed for the first time since he came into her room. "I won't. No, that wouldn't be fair on anyone. But if I did, any will I made would be challenged on the basis that I wasn't of my right mind when I did it, which would still send my stuff to the 'mot. It's mainly that fool of a Jenkins and his lot who are trying this on, but I no longer have the wherewithal to stop them. Which is why my offer."
"Of marriage?" Hermione put down her pen and paper. "I still don't understand why."
"Because, Hermione, if we marry, then any decisions about what happens to me have to be made in consultation with my wife. With you. If I am committed, sectioned, then you are in charge of my possessions. And when I die, you inherit my goods." He looked terribly earnest, and Hermione almost burst into tears.
"I don't know if I could, Severus. You're asking me to be in charge of making decisions about the rest of your life. That's an awfully huge responsibility."
"It is. But I trust you."
"Then I will, Severus. You're my friend, and friends help each other. When?"
"In a month, at the registry office in town. We need to give at least 28 days notice, so that should work nicely. But I'd rather keep things quiet, until we need to use it to protect me." He looked a lot less stressed than when he came in, and Hermione patted his shoulder.
"It'll be fine, Severus. We'll need to change a few things around to make it look more … genuine. We should let Minerva know, and the reason why – she'll understand – and I'll move in and share quarters with you. But we can keep it low-key."
"That will work nicely." Severus stood, then looked as if he ought to be doing something else and yet didn't know what.
Hermione did. She stood too, and hugged him. "Go back to your rooms, Severus. Ask the castle to make enough room for me. I'll go into town tomorrow and get the requisite papers, and we can do all of this without making a fuss." She paused for a moment, realising that with her own enthusiasm, she had lost sight of the reason that brought them there. "Oh god, Severus, I am so terribly sorry. I will do as much as I can to keep this as simple as I can. Is there anything else?"
"I think I'm asking you enough, Hermione. Go, do your preparations. And thank you."
-00000000000000000000-
Not a chance. Minerva never told a soul, but of course the portraits heard, and passed it on as fast as lightning. The story was that the pair had finally revealed their true love for each other, and were merely formalising the relationship. Crueller types had them shagging behind Ron's back, and there was even one paper that rumoured that they had conspired to kill Hermione's late husband, completely ignoring the fact that his demise had been in the service of the Ministry and investigated thoroughly at the time. Their "quiet wedding" might have been simple inside the registry, where just Harry and Minerva stood with them, but the crowd of reporters and gawkers outside was enough that the registrar let them out the staff entrance. Hermione and Severus got far enough away from the entrance that they were able to Apparate without being seen, and disappeared for a week to a small bed-and-breakfast on Skye, where they read and walked and talked and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. To maintain the illusion, they shared a bed, and by the end of the week they were snuggling up to each other to keep warm. But nothing else. They didn't feel the need.
Their arrival back in Hogwarts saw little change. For the next few months, sharing their living space just made them more companionable than they had been. Together they even bought a small cottage in the north for the holidays. But it was six months after the wedding that Hermione realised she was starting to see the change. Severus boiling the kettle dry over the fire was a small thing. His leaving the door open when he took a shower was, in her mind at first, just him feeling comfortable with her – except that every time he came out and saw it, he was terribly embarrassed. But one day she found him sitting on the floor, surrounded by his books on potions, and looking terribly agitated.
"Severus? What is it?"
"I can't remember it any more."
"What can't you remember?" She looked at the books. Moste Potent Potions and Advanced Potion-Making were open at their indexes, and Magical Drafts and Potions was almost ripped, so forcefully had Severus handled it.
"The Draught of Living Death. I could make it in my sleep. I was trying to prepare tomorrow's lesson, and suddenly I have no idea." He passed his hand over the books. "I can't even read the words. It's like the letters are slipping over each other."
"Come with me." She lifted him to his feet, and helped him along the corridor and down to the infirmary. There, Madam Bletchley examined his eyes, asked him some questions, and then handed him a blank piece of parchment and a pen and asked him to write his name.
Severus sat for a minute or so, staring at the paper, then he put the pen to it.
And nothing .
He didn't move the pen. Not up, not down, and not into the shape of his name.
"Severus?"
"I know what it is. I just can't seem to make the letters happen." He looked at his hand for a moment longer, then threw the pen and parchment on the floor.
"Professor?" Madam Bletchley put her hand on his shoulder, but he threw it off again. She looked at Hermione, and Hermione nodded.
"Severus? Something more is happening here. I'd like to take you to a Muggle hospital, to have them check you. Let's go." She nodded at Madam Bletchley, who wrote on her notes. "Could you let Minerva know, please?"
"What will they do to me?" Severus was looking more confused, and a little shaky.
"They'll probably scan your head, to see if they can see what's happening. And might be able to stop it. I should have thought of this before." Hermione walked with him to the staffroom grate, the only one now connected to the Floo network. "We'll go by my place. There's a good hospital just nearby."
Three hours later, Hermione was checking the time on her phone as they sat in the waiting room at Saint Geoffrey's Hospital. Although there hadn't been a lot of people there when they arrived, she had been waiting quite a while since the nurse first came out and took their details. Since then, there had been half a football team, a couple of younger men in dark suits, and the screaming part of a five year old's birthday party come into the waiting area. Hermione was glad she had never made the mistake of giving children fake swords and not expected them to pretend-fight with them. Finally, she and Severus were sent into a small cubicle, and shortly afterwards a doctor who looked young enough to be a student at Hogwarts came in to check on them.
Three more hours, a very short hospital gown, a questionnaire and an MRI later, she found herself sitting back in the cubicle with Severus, the original doctor, and a very serious-looking senior specialist.
"Mrs Snape, Mr Snape, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Mr Snape, your brain is showing a degenerative state that we fear may be irreversible. Based on the information you've given us, and the tests we've done, your memory and functions are going to fragment at a rapidly increasing rate." The specialist would not meet Hermione's eyes, but the young intern looked more upset than Severus and Hermione felt.
"Severus, is there anything you'd like to ask?" She had a thousand questions herself, but wanted to make sure he had the first chance.
"Only one." He sighed. "I know this isn't going to get better, so the important question is – how long?"
"Until you die?"
"No, until I become a useless drooling piece of flesh. I won't know when I die – I will have gone long before that. How long until I have no reason left to live?" He was being very matter of fact, but Hermione found herself tearing up, and bit her lip so that she wouldn't start crying.
"We've had a few cases like you over the years, and we're still not sure what caused it, Mr Snape, but we can make some predictions after checking against the other records. Based on the rate we've been able to chart, you have less than six months before you lose your faculties. Your sense and personality will go first, then your reason. It'll be like aging backwards – by the end, I'm afraid you'll be incontinent, unable to feed or dress yourself, and will be helpless and dependent on other people. On your wife, for example, but she'll need some help."
"No, I won't do that to her." He stood up, and grabbed his trousers. "Help me get dressed, Hermione."
"What will you do, though? You can't teach anymore." She untied the hospital gown from the back, and helped him take it off.
"No, I can't. Let Minerva know that I resign, effective today."
"Today?"
"There's no point going back. We'll head to the cottage, and set me up there. You can go back to school and take my classes until they get a replacement. I hear young Lorcan Scamander has finished his training in Germany, and is looking for a job."
"How can you say that, Severus?" Hermione's iron control started to slip and she felt her voice becoming shrill. "How can you just give away your job, your life's work like that?" She tried to stop it, but all the fear and worry of the last few years began to spill out. "You can't just give up! There has to be something. Maybe you can make something…" She collapsed on the floor, the tears running out without any control and her body feeling as if it had been hit by a steamroller.
It was Severus who had to console her, Severus who shooed the doctors out, took her hands and chafed them until the sobbing stopped.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I've been working on this for years. I know there's no solution, because I've been searching for one, and if I couldn't find it, I doubt anyone else could. No, now's the time for me to enjoy our last few months together, until you need to send me to a nursing home."
"NO!" Hermione picked herself up from the floor. "Dammit, Severus, I'm your wife. I may have married you as your friend, but I meant what I said until dea… unt…" She sobbed again, unable to say the words of the vows she had cheerfully spoken but a few months previously. Then, they had felt like a promise made to a friend, something to help him. They meant so much more now.
"I think we should go."
"Yes. Let's. I'll owl Minerva – she'll cope." Hermione leaned against Severus as they made their slow way out, stopping only to pick up the paperwork. At a quiet corner next to the oxygen tanks, she side-apparated them to the cottage, and they staggered inside as a cold autumn shower caught them good and proper.
Hermione had Severus on the couch and the fireplace roaring in minutes. They had kept the place ready for visitors at any time, as it was the perfect escape for a fast weekend away from the Little Darlings, as Hermione had come to call the pupils at Hogwarts. There was plenty of food in the cupboards and freezer, and she considered the possibility of a hot soup while she arranged an owl to Minerva to let her know what had happened. However, it was quite a surprise to hear someone banging on the door less than three minutes after the owl had gone off. Owls are fast, but they're not that fast.
Opening it, Hermione saw three serious-faced Wizards in the standard suits of the Ministry of Magic. They carried briefcases, and one also held the handle of what looked like an old-fashioned portable record player.
"Professor Hermione Snape? Is Professor Severus Snape here?"
Hermione wasn't having a bar of it. "Who are you, and why should I answer that?"
"We have been appointed by the Wizengamot to investigate the mental state of Severus Snape, an individual known to be suffering the after-effects of Holothurian Spongiform. I am Senior Investigator Victor Marchbanks, and I am here with my assistants Investigator Norris Tuft and Trainee Investigator Paul Knatchbull. Please step aside." He brusquely pushed Hermione to the side and strode into the front room, looking around and making "tut-tut" noises. The others followed, their briefcases and machinery quickly deposited on the flagstones to the side of the fireplace. Severus looked resigned, but Hermione wasn't having any of that.
"How dare you? How DARE you barge into our cottage and just …"
"It's our job, Professor." Marchbanks removed his bright turquoise coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, then surveyed the room again. "I believe we'll have that sofa turned around so it faces the centre of the room, and move that table to the side so we might set up the detectors."
"You have no right!"
Pulling a scroll from his inside-jacket pocket, Marchbanks shook his head. "We have every right. I take it your husband didn't tell you the common symptoms of Holothurians?"
"Loss of memory, loss of functions, quietly fades away? Severus? Those are the symptoms, aren't they?" She went over and squatted in front of Severus, holding his hands, but he would not look at her. "Severus? What haven't you told me?"
"He hasn't told you, madam, that more than 60% of the wizards who are affected by this also commit acts of violence, without knowing what it is that they're doing. We've had animals mutilated, children beaten, even partners stabbed and barely survived. And the wizards and witches responsible have no knowledge of what they did. We tested them with Veratiserum, and they were completely innocent of any knowledge, even though there were witnesses and in one case, security camera footage."
Hermione sat back on the floor, her hands starting to slip from Severus's until he held them tightly and would not let go. She shook her head, and pulled herself free from his grip, then stood and shook him by the shoulders.
"Why didn't you tell me, Severus? Why didn't you?"
He said nothing, and the other wizards looked uncomfortable until Marchbanks gestured them to places on either side of Snape. "Professor Hermione, we need to run a series of tests on your husband to determine which way his affliction is likely to go. It won't take very long."
"But what happens then? What if he is likely to go … violent? Can we stop that?"
"It depends. There are medications he can take, but there are side effects. Shingleback syndrome. Paralysis of the extremities. Let us do our tests, madam, and we will make a decision afterwards."
"But I'm his wife. You should include both of us in those decisions."
Marchbanks stopped setting up the equipment, and looked at Hermione properly for the first time. "Yes, we will include you. And Mr Snape."
"Professor." Severus spoke up for the first time since the men had come in, and Marchbanks smiled. Suddenly, Hermione realised that he had done that deliberately, to get a reaction out of Severus. She was up against someone very clever, and would need enough wits about her for herself and Severus both.
"Yes, Professor Snape. If you would just hold your hand out… that's right." Within moments, Marchbanks had clasped a leather monitoring cuff to Severus's wrist, glued three wires to his chest, and popped a cap on his head that would have made an excellent colander, except that it was made of bright red plastic that seemed far too sentient, from the way it immediately curled down to cover his skull to his ears.
"Are you all right, Severus?" Hermione bent to check that Severus's hair wasn't caught in the cap, but Marchbanks brushed her hand away before she had a chance to touch it.
"Please, madam. There must be no contact except by the test subject. We do not want a false negative."
She found herself smartly banished to a corner, where all she could do was watch while they tested her husband. Marchbanks read a passage to him all about rabbits and spam, while Tuft watched the dials on the large wooden case to which the wires were connected. Then they had him choose coloured balls from a tray, count backwards from 20 (luckily that seemed to be something he could still do), and name as many teachers still at Hogwarts as he could remember. While watching their faces, Hermione could not detect any obvious signs of surprise or concern – in fact, they were terribly professional all the way.
But then came the moment that she dreaded. They handed Severus a book, and asked him to read from the top of one page.
"This is Advanced Potion Making," he said, looking at the front cover. "Standard textbook."
"Then you won't mind reading out the spell on page ten."
He snarled at them. "You knew. All along, these foolish tests, you knew what had happened to me. Page ten is the Draught of Living Death. And that's where I found myself today. You must have a spy inside Hogwarts."
"Are you refusing to read it, Professor"
"I'm refusing to play along with your asinine games, your self-incriminating questionnaires and your senseless methods to ensure that, no matter what my mental state, I will end up locked away in the special wards of St Mungo with a sign outside saying No Visitors. I am still capable of making decisions about my own life. You can go now, or you can wait until my wife conjures up a fire at your feet. She's very good at that." Severus ripped the headpiece off, unclasped the wrist monitor and pulled the wires free. "I suggest you leave quietly while you can still walk."
They walked out, their equipment trailing behind them, while Hermione came over to Severus and wrapped her arms around him. For the next ten minutes they sat, holding each other, as the fire slowly burnt down in the hearth. It wasn't until a stray drop of rain hit the logs and hissed quite loudly that the two stirred.
"I should have told you, Hermione. I'm sorry."
"Are you likely to become violent?" The two had turned so that they lay side by side on the couch, her on top of him. She brushed the hair away from his forehead, and looked into his eyes.
"I don't think so. As far as I could tell, the people who became violent were those who were physically abusive anyway. It was only that this time they couldn't remember. And I didn't count myself as one of them." He shuddered, and wrapped his arms tighter around her. "But I'm wondering if we should put in a safeguard."
"A safeguard? What sort? Get a live-in house-elf? Neither of us would want that." Hermione moved so she had her head on his shoulder, almost pushing him off the couch. "No, wait." Taking her wand from her pocket, she extended the couch so that it lay as wide as a double bed, then with another flick-swish, turned it so that once more it faced the fireplace.
"A code word. Some sort of spell that lies dormant in me, so that if I start getting nasty, you can say the word and I'm instantly frozen."
"Like the Full Body Bind that I cast on Neville?"
"Yes, but if it's pre-set to just one word, then all you have to do is say it and I'll be helpless." He started stroking her hair. "Because the last thing I'd want to do is hurt you."
At this, Hermione started to cry silently on his shoulder. He turned to look at her, and gently wiped the tears out of her eyes. "What, now? Sadness? Hermione, are you feeling guilty about needing to restrain me?"
"No. I'm … " She took a deep breath and tried to speak clearly. "I have a confession to make. You know how this was supposed to be just two friends helping one another?"
"Yes?" He spoke as a question, but his face showed he knew the answer already. "Are you telling me that your care of me, your defence of me, your incredible devotion to making sure I'm safe and sound, are not just the actions of someone who is a good friend? I'm shocked at you, Hermione. Shocked and astounded."
"And you, Severus, are full of rubbish." She leaned over and kissed him, hard. "There. Now you know."
"But you don't yet." He kissed her back, the kiss changing from simple to full, passionate and caring. He held her face while he kissed her tears away, and then went back to her lips just to taste their still-salty flavour. She reciprocated by rolling on top of him, and starting to open his already unbuttoned shirt while investigating his ear with her tongue. There were caresses and lickings, and full undressings, and a moment when he positioned himself above her, his cock erect between her legs and ready to enter, and before he could ask her whether this was what she really wanted, she had pulled him down and into her so that she could kiss him again at the same time.
They lay together, some hours later, the fire re-fuelled and their own hearts still beating fast. He had his arm under her head, and their other hands were entwined with each other, while they both watched the firelight send the shadows dancing around the room.
"We mustn't do that again." Severus stroked her hand with his thumb. "No, not that. Making love with you was sweet and glorious, and if the rest of my days are going to be like that, I have something to look forward to. No, we should not keep any secrets from each other. Not to help the other, not to save them from pain or to shield them from the inevitable. If you had found out about the side-effects of the condition without me there to explain, who knows what would have happened."
"What do we do now?" Hermione could feel her heart sink, as if asking the question let the demons start sneaking out. "I can set that spell, but what else happens here?"
"I have an idea." Severus seemed more pleased than she felt he had a right to, but then the last two hours had been the most uncomplicated, joyous ones in Hermione's life for a very long time. "We stay here."
"Here? In bed?"
He kissed her hard, then licked her nose as he withdrew. "No, you foolish witch. Here in the cottage. We stay in Northumberland for as long as we can, watch the snows come in, keep warm while outside things turn white and fluffy. I still understand if I hear the words, so audio books to keep me amused…"
"And I can read to you."
"I couldn't ask that of you."
"But I want to. I read to you, we cook, yes we can get audio books and watch some DVDs – and get some sleep, I'm sure. That sounds wonderful. And we can go for walks when it's not blowing too hard, and try out those little cafés in the town down the road." She snuggled closer. "I'll tell Minerva I'll be gone until … how long?"
"You heard the doctors. In six months time, I won't be here any more. In six months, my body will become a useless drooling mess, unable to remember you or talk to you at all. That might be out by a little way, but in the end, my mind will be gone."
"I'll stay, though."
"No, Hermione. I don't want you to be that much of my carer. Let us spend the time here while I still have you, and know you, and want to be with you. When the part that is me goes, I want you to arrange for me to go into St Mungo's. They'll be able to look after me there. It would be too much for one person to do. Promise me you won't try and do it all?" Once more he was wiping the tears from her eyes, this time with her naked body pressed up to his, while he tried to commit every curve of her to his memory. "Please promise me?"
"I won't then. I promise." She felt the warmth of his body, and the whisper of his hair when he turned his head. "But until then, you're mine, Severus. Until I cannot physically look after you any more, I want to be here for you. And with you." She kissed him again.
-00000000000000000000-
Three months later, Minerva dropped by for a visit. She came by Floo, because the front door was blocked by a metre of thick snow that had fallen over the last week. They had been able to connect to the Floo network on the basis of Severus's increased physical limitations, and with the threat of an official complaint over the behaviour of the Wizengamot investigators.
She dusted herself off as she came through the flames, and accepted a hot cup of whiskey-topped coffee from Hermione as she sat down on the reduced-to-normal-size sofa. Hermione did not mention that most nights they banked the fire and slept in front of it still. The front room was by far the warmest in the house, and they saw no need to waste the fuel for the rest of the rooms.
"How are you, Severus? The papers have stopped trying to get information from me, so you can tell me properly now." She sipped her coffee, and raised an eyebrow. Apparently Hermione was in a generous mood if the level of alcohol was any indication.
"I am … managing." His voice was hesitant, and calm. "Her ... Hermione is wonderful, and makes sure I am p … pppp … properly fed and cared for. She is marvellous." He was sitting on an armchair at the side, a blanket over his knees and a hot drink by his side.
"Do you get out much at the moment?" Minerva glanced at the window, where the snow had covered the lower third of the glass.
"It ... safer inside. But sometimes… We get out if the weather is clear." It was obvious that Severus was struggling, and Minerva nodded.
"You don't have to speak if you don't want to, Severus."
"Want to. Can't … for much longer."
"This is true."
"He can still walk," Hermione said, "although we stick to the smooth paths with not too many stiles to get over. We're getting a bit slower all the time though. This last snow has lasted a week, but once it's gone, we'll go out again."
"Show Min the … the … the chair." Severus waved his bony arm towards a side cupboard, and Hermione got up and brought out a light-framed wheelchair that had a pair of brooms stuck under it.
"It lets us float the chair just above the ground. We can take it in a lot of places we wouldn't normally be able to. In a few weeks, it'll be more useful. " Hermione demonstrated the floating ability, and Minerva nodded approvingly.
"You should market that. I'm sure there will be a lot of witches and wizards who have had injuries, or who are getting on like me, who would find that useful."
"You're not that old, Minerva." Hermione came back and sat down with her own cup of coffee.
"I might not be in years, but this body has been through a great deal." Minerva drank up the rest of her own fairly-large cup, and set it down. "You are looking far more frail, Severus. What's the prognosis?"
He struggled for a moment to try and get words out, then gestured resignedly at Hermione. She nodded, then turned to Minerva.
"There's good news. He doesn't seem to have the violent side-effects we so feared. Although we have a safety plan ready for that if we need it. But when he gets more tired in the afternoon, the words go. He can usually make himself understood, but it's a lot of work. And now? We went back to the Muggle hospital, and they said he would be able to do less and less. Speak. Stand. Now, I have to help him stand up, not because he's weak but because the nerves aren't giving the muscles the right information." Severus nodded at this, and Hermione continued. "We think that in another two months, he'll be close to bedbound, and he made me promise to take him to St Mungo's when he gets to that stage. So, early spring."
"Early spring. Then St Mungo's for how long?"
Hermione could no longer get the sadness out of her voice. "Less than another two months. We've agreed – no life-extending measures. He doesn't want to be a burden. When his breathing starts to go, that's it."
"You'll … let me go …" Severus managed the last words with a great deal of effort.
"I will, dear. It took us so long to find each other, but I will not keep you with me for my own selfish heart. There would be so little of you left." Hermione's eyes were shining as she looked at Severus seated to the side. He was close enough that he could lift his hand … oh so slowly … and she took it, and mouthed I love you to him.
Minerva watched, just managing to stop a tear slip down her cheek. Then she started. "Oh, I almost forgot – this is the last of the things that were in your quarters." She reached into her bag and pulled out a large cardboard box. "Some shampoo, your old handkerchiefs, a couple of books… "
"Thanks." Hermione took the box and took it to the side cabinet, already overflowing with books. "I'll sort through them later."
Minerva stayed until the light started to fade. Kissing Severus goodbye, she whispered in Hermione's ear, "Call me if you need anything," then took the Floo back to Hogwarts where, she swore, the snow wasn't nearly as deep as the north moors. Hermione looked sadly at the fireplace, her mind in the corridors at Hogwarts where there was more than one person to talk to.
"Missing … school?"
"Not quite, Severus. Missing people. I love you dearly, but it's rather isolated up here. Hopefully next week we can head into town, and maybe the bookshop. I hear the new audiobook of that Rivers series is out."
"Not … enough man?" The words were slow, but the smile was unmistakable.
"For me? You have to be kidding me, Severus. You're more than enough man for me."
He grinned, and she recognised the intent, and decided that dinner could be late that night. She waved the wand and extended the bed, then took his hand and helped him stand and come over to it. Some of his muscle memories were waning, but some were still as strong as ever.
He fell asleep afterwards, as he often did now. Hermione slipped from under the blanket, and put a couple of longer logs on the fire before she headed for the kitchen to make dinner. By the time she came back, though, there was an odd smell in the air, although Severus was still asleep. It took a moment for her to recognise it, but when she did, she took the dinner back to the kitchen and then laid out a towel and pyjamas in the bathroom before going back and waking Severus.
"Severus? My love?"
He stirred, looked up at her, then wrinkle his nose. Suddenly a look of total embarrassment hit him.
"It's all right, hon. Easily fixed."
"I … wet myself. How…" His face was alternately white then red, as she helped him to stand up. He had not been wearing any clothes, but the bedsheets were soaked with a large yellow puddle in the middle.
"Here." She started guiding him to the bathroom. "Have a shower, and put on your pyjamas, and I'll change the sheets."
"Sorry… So … sorry" She could hear his low voice saying that all the way to the bathroom, then she heard the shower go on. Leaving him to sort himself out, she charmed the sheets off the couch, and used a scourgify to clean off the mattress and cushions. The washing machine was modern, and took the entire set of sheets with no problem, and she had the bed remade with clean ones before Severus was out of the shower. He was very slow making his way down the corridor though, and she decided to change the bed back to a sofa before he got there.
"Better?" she asked cheerily as he came through the door.
"Ash … ash … ashamed …" he slowly walked to the chair and sat himself down. "I … don't want … to be ashamed."
"Oh god. We hadn't thought that would happen so early." She remembered the Specialists' words: by the end, I'm afraid you'll be incontinent, unable to feed or dress yourself, and will be helpless and dependent on other people. But this wasn't the end. Not yet. Not if the earlier activity had been any indication. "Maybe we can organise something, get some special pads or ..."
"No. Too much…" Severus could not look at her.
"If it happens again, we'll need to do something, Severus. You can't be left sitting or lying in your own wee or you'll get sores." She was almost in tears herself. "Should I arrange someone to come and help?"
"Embarr … Em …"
"Embarrassing?"
Severus nodded.
"Remind me to explain to you about Pap smears one day."
Severus smirked, and held up one hand like a duck's bill.
"Beast. Now would you like your dinner, love? It's a good thing I love you, because otherwise you'd be wearing it for that … remark." She went to fetch the kept-warm plates, while he continued to smirk for a moment, then scowled. He had it hidden by the time she came back, though.
There were no further accidents the next few days. The snow cleared from the path and the sun came out, and Hermione decided to risk a walk around the top of the moor where their cottage lay. The snow lay in patches behind rocks and along the ditches, and the rest of the area was slush and mud and the occasional green patch of grass that looked as if it were trying to pretend Spring was nearly here. They managed to get to a large rock that overlooked the valley, and Hermione sat Severus against it to soak up a little sunshine while she went looking for interesting stones.
When she got back, though, he was lying with half his body in a ditch nearby, the icy water lapping around his waist. The cold water and snow had washed the ammonia-like smell away, but by the time Hermione got there he was blue and shivering, and not able to make a coherent word as she bundled him up in her coat and used levicorpus to carry him back to the cottage. There, she ran a hot bath and stripped off his icy clothing, lowering him slowing into the warm water and watching the colour come back into the skinny legs. It wasn't until she took the wet clothes to the laundry that she caught a whiff of wee, and worked out what had happened.
She brought his clean pyjamas in, and helped him out of the bath and to dress. He needed more help than usual to dress, although this might have been due to his chilling. But as she brought him out to the chair by the fire, she changed her mind and sat him on the couch, next to her.
"We have to talk, Severus."
He squeezed her hand, exhausted beyond belief by the last two hours.
"I know you wet yourself again. And I think I know why you ended up in the ditch. You didn't want me to know, did you?"
He hesitated, then squeezed her hand once more. The tears started and she quietly took a handkerchief and dried them.
"Honesty, remember. I can cope with the washing for a while, but it would be better for you if we got you some of those special underpants. Then we won't have to …" She was interrupted by him shaking her hand and his head at the same time.
"No?"
He looked at her, desperately wishing he could communicate what was in his mind. Then, finally, he managed two words.
"Dignity. No… burden. "
The chill hit her heart. "Not yet, Severus. Please. Not yet. This is a small thing .We can get through it."
He held her hand, and leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. Her tears fell unchecked, and she kissed him back. And in that kiss, all her love, all of his, melded together in a kiss of depth and sorrow and finality. They leaned against each other, arms wrapped firmly, she feeling his heartbeat through his skinny frame and prominent bones, and he feeling her softness and curves, and her love.
She woke the next morning, the room chilled as the fire had gone out and she had forgotten to stack it the night before. Severus was not beside her, and she heard a noise behind her that sounded like paper tearing. Looking around, she saw her husband at the box on the sideboard, the box which Minerva had brought open and a small bottle in his hand. He looked at her with great sorrow, and put the bottle down, wiping his mouth at the same time.
"Severus?"
He managed one word. "Honest." Then he fell, and she rushed over to him.
"Severus! What did you take?"
"No … burden." He managed that, and she felt his breathing slow down. Grabbing the small bottle, she sniffed it, but couldn't identify what it was.
"Oh you foolish Wizard, what have you done?"
He looked deeply into her eyes. "So glad … married. Love you."
And there were no further breaths.