A/N~ One last quick update for the weekend! As always, my thanks for reading and commenting :)
Hermione was proud of herself; she'd managed to fetch his discharge paperwork and medications in fifty-three minutes. Her joy dimmed, however, when she saw how ghastly an upright Severus looked. His face was severely swollen, and she could see a faint tremor in his non-wand hand as he kept himself upright by leaning on the wall.
This is sheer madness, she thought, but the iron tension of his jaw warned her not to fuss.
"We're all clear," she told him, and he nodded stiffly.
It was a laborious walk to the Apparition point, and Severus was sweating heavily by the time they got there. The orderly that followed them merely shook his head, and then looked to Hermione.
"When you Apparate, you'll want to head for somewhere easy to clean. I'd bet my last Galleon that he's going to spew like Vesuvius when you come out of the turn. And I'd also hold him from behind so you don't get covered it," the man added helpfully.
"Solid advice," Hermione affirmed. Harry sent her an incredulous stare, but she only shrugged.
"I'll call if I need something, yeah?"
Harry rubbed his face. "Yeah, alright. Are you sure you want to Side-Along him?"
"Yeah. The floo would be worse." Leaning forward, she gave him a quick buss on the cheek. "Give Gin and the kids my love."
"Will do," he replied and stepped back.
Wrapping her arms firmly around Severus' lean waist, she took them home.
The orderly had the right of it; Severus was violently ill. Thankfully, she had thought to bring them to the small boot room. He managed to get most of his sick into the deep sink and not the floor. By the time he finished retching, he was trembling like a leaf and clutching his head.
Utterly terrified that he was going to pass out, Hermione dragged him over to the low sofa that was next to the garden doors and plopped down. Severus collapsed onto her lap. Reaching out to pull his long legs onto the furniture, she pulled him into the recovery position, his head cradled in her lap. His only response was to bury his face in the soft fabric of her sweater, panting roughly with pain and shaking uncontrollably.
Hermione wanted to cry; she hated seeing him in so much distress, and it resurrected the awful memories of holding his limp body three days earlier, as well as far older memories of seeing his broken body in the Shrieking Shack. Biting her lip hard enough to hurt, Hermione started to stroke his fine black hair gently. Here and there were bright silver threads amongst the dark ebony, but for the most part, he hadn't aged much since Tom Riddle had met his end over two decades prior.
As Severus sagged bonelessly into her embrace, she carefully traced the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones in what she hoped was a comforting manner. Frankly, she was shocked that he was allowing her to touch him at all; the man was the least demonstrative person she knew and utterly zealous about guarding his personal space. His skin was like porcelain under her fingertips, the half-moons of his eyelashes standing out in stark contrast to the pallid flesh. Severus wasn't handsome, but his features were compelling, and for a moment, she let herself dream the impossible.
As if sensing the wayward nature of her thoughts, he stirred.
"Do you want a pain potion?" she inquired quietly, not ceasing her gentle stroking.
"Please."
Summoning the bag, she dug out the blue phial and carefully brought it to his lips. Raising his head slightly, he took a healthy swallow. His eyes were miserably bloodshot.
Oh, you stubborn, foolish man…
With a wordless grimace, he lay down again, surprising her by not moving from her arms. Taking it as tacit permission, Hermione resumed her careful stroking; slowly the tension leeched from his lean frame.
They lay together in the silence of her sunny kitchen for nearly an hour. As the sun finally set, the room started to go cold.
"Severus?" she murmured, resting her hand on his broad shoulder.
He cautiously rolled over onto his back so that he was looking up at her. "Hmmmm?"
"What is the matter?" Covering his lips with her finger before he could dismiss the question, she continued, "You've been miserable for six months, and unhappy for the last year. Won't you please tell me what's wrong?"
Severus sighed deeply, something undefinable lurking in the dark espresso of his gaze. After nearly a minute, he answered.
"I can't do this anymore."
"Do what?" she pressed, heart starting to race.
He closed his eyes, pressing his head back into her stomach. "I want to retire."
Hermione felt like she'd been punched; the thought of not seeing him every day, of not working with him, or having a place in his life…
"That's understandable," she replied, voice shaking faintly.
One black eye cracked open. "I don't have hobbies anymore, Granger. I can't remember the last time I read a book. My life consists of working, eating, and sleeping. I just… I'm done. I'm tired of only seeing darkness and human carnage."
"Why did you stay? There had to have been other job offers."
"Because."
"Because of what?"
Severus made a low, grumbly noise. "Because I didn't want to leave you with an incompetent, daft pillock of a partner. I've been watching the new Aurors coming in. I kept hoping to find someone decent, or at least trainable, but it's been all Kevin Murphy and his ilk."
"I've thought the same thing," Hermione admitted with a weak chuckle. "I was offered a position at the Magical British Library a couple of months back, but I couldn't stomach the thought of leaving you."
"Is the job still open?"
"Yes," she whispered, sorrow flooding her.
"Then take it. Please."
For what seemed like the tenth time that day, Hermione felt like weeping. Fleetingly, she wondered if that was why he was allowing such physical closeness: he had known that he was saying goodbye. "So this was it, wasn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, no one can say that we didn't go out with a bang."
"It was a hell of a bang," he returned, words slurring as the medicine took hold.
"Let's get you to bed while it's still possible for you to stand," she said. After a moment, Severus began to lever himself upright. Cupping his jaw, she turned his head. "Promise me one thing."
"What?"
"You won't just disappear on me. My world would be far darker without you."
He blinked slowly, gaze as fathomless as the cosmos. "As would mine." Bringing his hand up to hers, Severus squeezed it. "I won't disappear. I promise."
Getting up the stairs to her room was an effort, and they both were out of breath by the time they reached the master.
"So," he panted, blinking at the massive bed, "that's the American king you've been in raptures about, hmmm?"
"It's called a California King, and if you sneer at it, I'll stick you in the guest room and your feet can hang off the mattress all night."
"I'm not sneering. I don't have enough facial control to sneer."
Hermione snorted. "I noticed." Pointing to the en-suite, she said, "Why don't you get ready while I change the sheets."
He bumbled into the bathroom with his rucksack, displaying far less grace than usual. It made her smile. Hermione had just finished changing the bedding when he came out, looking as good as an Inferi after a particularly debauched stag night. Helping him over to the bed, she sat him down and began lining up the various medications he needed to take on the vanity.
"Down the hatch," she said, and he shot her an anaemic glare as she shoved the first medication at him. He cooperated, however, and Hermione was pleased to see that all his vital signs were holding steady, although his blood pressure was still high from the effects of pain.
Snagging the second set of sheets, she headed for the guest room.
"Where are you going?" Severus croaked, struggling to rise.
"To put clean sheets on the other bed."
"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed." Registering her confusion, he huffed in annoyance. "Granger, this mattress is the size of a Quidditch pitch. We aren't exactly going to get in each other's way. And besides which, you plan on hitting me with diagnostic charms every hour, correct?"
"Well, not every hour," she temporised. She had planned on checking on Severus every hour and a half, not on the hour.
"Then you might as well stay here. It's less of a trip, and you might not wake me that way. Besides, I was told that I no longer snore. I am now the perfect bed companion."
Hermione stared at him, trying to parse out his aim. He's high as a kite, she finally decided, and I'm sure he'll push me away tomorrow. I might as well enjoy this while I can.
"Alright," she agreed. "But no complaining if I end up being the snorer. I haven't slept in anything but a chair for three days."
For all that, it took several hours for her to fall asleep, and she couldn't help but watch the man on the other side of the bed. After eight years of working together, she knew parts of him well, but his inner thoughts and desires had always remained a mystery.
In the post-war years, life had been kind—or at least more generous—to him, and she wondered if the peace of the last twenty years had made up for his decades of pain. Despite the many situational improvements, Severus had remained a loner; he was incredibly picky about whom he chose to bestow the gift of his friendship upon, and seemly had no interest whatsoever in romantic entanglements. Hermione had never dared to ask him about his lingering feelings concerning Harry's mum, or if her memory still ruled over his heart. From the outside, at least, he appeared contented behind his walls.
But reflecting on his dissatisfaction over the last year, Hermione questioned if all of his unhappiness could be blamed upon his wish to leave the DMLE. Was he lonely, as she was? Had someone other than Lily ever breached his defences?
Could there even be room for anyone else?
Oh, Severus, she thought as sleep finally claimed her, I wish you'd let me in…
