Disclaimer: JKR owns all recognizable characters and settings. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Three
Coming to Terms
*
"I shall be returning to work tomorrow," Severus said as he entered the sitting room, two cups of tea in hand.
It seemed as if he were always plying her with tea. Part of Hermione wanted to scream at him that, contrary to popular belief, tea was not the solution to every problem. The other part—the part that was less emotionally overwrought—knew that offering tea was the only thing Severus knew to do, given the less than ideal situation in which they had found themselves. When in doubt, serve tea.
Putting down the book she had been reading, Hermione offered him a small smile and accepted the cup. It was a dreary, rainy day, and the children had returned to primary school that morning. Apparently, Severus and her past self, along with her ex-husband, had determined that with Hermione working, it would be a good idea for the children to attend Muggle school until they turned eleven, so that they could experience that aspect of their non-magical heritage. Now, however, it simply left her alone with too much time to think—something she had never thought she'd say—and a husband she did not remember.
Just then, Hermione became aware of the words Severus had spoken when he'd entered the sitting room. "You're going back to work?"
"Mm," he agreed as he swallowed his tea. He set the cup back in its saucer, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Harry has been covering my classes for the past week, but he must now return to his position at the Ministry."
"Classes?"
Severus explained how, upon his return from his self-imposed exile, he had been offered the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It seemed that after the exhibit on his role in the war, people in the wizarding world had been quite keen to have such a vaunted hero teaching their children. He had accepted the position with the caveat that he could live in Hogsmeade with his new wife—ostensibly herself.
Hermione twisted the ring on her left hand with her thumb. "I see. And what about me? What will I do?" While she wasn't exactly comfortable being alone with Severus, she didn't relish the idea of staying at the cottage by herself all day, surrounded by the evidence of how her mind had betrayed her.
"I spoke with your superiors at the Ministry, and they have informed me that when you feel you are up to the challenge, you may return—as soon as next week, if you wish."
"Really?" Hermione exclaimed, her face lighting up with anticipation. "It would be lovely to get back to work—though I suppose my projects have already been completed," she added ruefully.
Severus smirked and then rose to his feet. "Since this is our last full day together, I thought you might wish to go through the photo albums with me this afternoon. Perhaps if we discuss them, something will jog your memory."
Hermione's smile faltered. "Oh. Yes, I suppose we could do that, but …." She paused, desperately attempting to think of something to sway him away from that particular activity; she wasn't ready to look at the albums yet. She had tried several times, but she had been unable to look past the first page before her heart had begun to race and her throat had tightened until she had to struggle to catch her breath. The panic had been so profound that she had finally put the albums in the top of her wardrobe, so that they would remain out of sight. She didn't know why the photos affected her so negatively. Perhaps it would feel too real if she saw the tangible evidence of the memories she no longer had, or maybe she simply wasn't ready to admit that this life was truly hers.
"I was hoping to go to the castle and have tea with Minerva this afternoon," she finally blurted out. His expression became unreadable, and Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. Severus wanted to spend time with her, she knew, and while she had been cordial and polite, she was well aware that she'd also been distant and rather mercurial. Despite her guilt, she couldn't bring herself to look at the albums. Not yet, and maybe not ever.
"I see," he said slowly. "I am quite certain that Minerva will appreciate the visit." He studied her for almost a full minute, until Hermione fidgeted a bit in her seat. "You have looked at the albums, have you not?"
Hermione winced internally; she had hoped he wouldn't ask that question. Her thumb worked the ring around her finger more quickly. She wouldn't lie—exactly. "I've looked at them, yes."
That was true. She had looked at them—she just hadn't managed to look beyond the first page.
"Good. Healer Merriweather believes that the photos will help."
His eyes fell to her hands, where she continued to twist her ring, and his lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. "I see some things haven't changed."
"Hm?"
"Your ring. You twist it when you're feeling out of sorts."
Hermione looked down, and for the first time, took note of the wedding ring on her left hand. The weight had been so natural—after all, she'd only been without the one that Ron had given her for a few weeks—that she hadn't truly processed its presence. Looking at it now, she was surprised by how much it suited her.
Rather than the plain gold band with the small ruby solitaire she'd worn when married to Ron, this ring was wrought of both silver and gold strands woven together to form an open band of Celtic knots. A peek at Severus' left hand revealed the matching band.
"It's lovely," she said softly.
There was silence for several long, uncomfortable moments until Severus spoke. "I'm glad that you like it. I'll leave you now—you'll want to let Minerva know you're coming for tea."
As he strode from the room, Hermione had the uneasy feeling that she had somehow hurt his feelings.
Hermione spent the rest of the week visiting various friends, catching up on their lives, and inadvertently learning much about her relationship with Severus Snape.
By all accounts, the man simply adored her. The descriptions of their relationship indicated that their marriage was a happy one: Neville called it steady, Luna referred to it as a partnership, Ginny said it was utterly romantic, and Minerva merely sniffed, her small, stern eyes bearing down at her from over the top of her glasses, and said, "I have never seen either of you so happy, and I have known both of you since you were eleven years old. In short, you bring out the best in each other."
Minerva had also given her much to think about. "He may appear strong for your sake," she had said, "but I can only imagine how vulnerable he is feeling at this moment. He loves you as he has loved no other, and yes, that includes Lily Evans Potter. I'm quite certain the man is scared out of his wits that the one thing he fears the most is about to occur—that you will be lost to him forever."
The words were compelling, but even so, with her divorce from Ron so fresh in her mind and heart, Hermione found marriage to Severus Snape a difficult thing to contemplate.
Every inch of the dining room table was covered in various parchments and books. Seated in the centre chair was Hermione, the scratching of her quill the only sound in the room.
Working as an Unspeakable had its perks, including a fabulous library, but the workload was always challenging, something Hermione enjoyed. Her current project required a great deal of research—too much, actually, if she wanted to finish within the time parameters set by her supervisor. With no other choice, she had taken everything back to the cottage and set to work. The children were spending the week with Ron, and for once, Hermione was thankful; she could research to her heart's content with no interruptions.
"Hermione?"
Startled, she looked up only to see Severus, requisite cups of tea in hand.
"Hello," she greeted him as she accepted the tea. "You're back early."
Severus sat down in the chair opposite her and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Yes. We began duelling practice today. One of the third-years during my final class decided to use a Mud-Slinging Hex. Unfortunately for Mr Harris, his aim leaves much to be desired."
"He didn't." She was careful not to reveal her amusement.
"He did. Even worse, the boy somehow managed to alter the hex to be impervious to cleaning charms. I, then, decided that I deserved to cancel my office hours and return home to shower." He noted the parchments and books but made no move to either read or inquire. It occurred to Hermione that, as her husband, he would have been used to her coming home with work and not being able to discuss it with him.
"I didn't hear you arrive," she said, gathering up the various parchments and books.
"I came through the Floo upstairs so that I wouldn't trail mud through the house."
"Ah."
Hermione worried her lower lip as they sat in awkward silence. Finally, after several agonising minutes, Severus rose to his feet.
"I'll start dinner, then," he said, his voice low, before leaving the room.
Hermione watched him leave and sighed. She hated hurting him, and yet she knew that her continued reticence was doing just that. He was so patient with her—something she would never have anticipated from the man who had once been her professor. In truth, he was very different now, more reminiscent of the man whose picture with Luna's parents had so intrigued her.
She propped her chin one the palm of one hand and stared at the doorway to the kitchen, watching Severus as he gathered his supplies. Perhaps she should attempt to get to know this man. Like it or not, this was her life, and she wasn't being fair to either one of them by holding back. She must have been in love with him to marry him, and while she wasn't sure if those same feelings would manifest now, she owed it to herself and to her family to make an effort.
Now resolute, Hermione finished collecting the parchments and books, and a wave of her wand sent them to her room. She stood from the table and walked into the kitchen. Severus had brought out a pot, a sauce pan, and various fresh ingredients. She paused in the doorway and watched him as he worked. A smile hovered on her lips; who would have ever thought Severus Snape would cook for her?
Hermione suddenly realised that Severus had been doing all the cooking since she had been released from hospital. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, causing Severus to peer at her over his shoulder.
An arched brow was his only reply.
"I've let you take over the cooking duties entirely, and that's quite rude of me. I should be of more help. I'm sorry."
One side of his mouth quirked into a wry grin, and he turned, resting a hip against the edge of the worktop. "Hermione, you don't cook. You've never done more than bake the occasional batch of biscuits with the children. The task has always fallen to me."
"Really?" She was oddly pleased by that. Ron had been a nightmare in the kitchen, having not inherited his mother's penchant for cooking, which meant that, by default, Hermione had prepared the meals.
"Yes, really," Severus continued, turning to slice some mushrooms. "As I said, you don't cook."
Hermione's forehead wrinkled, and she frowned. "It's not that I can't cook, it's just that I—"
"Don't enjoy it," Severus interrupted, his expression both amused and fond. "Yes, I know."
Hermione felt her cheeks flush, though she didn't know why.
"Lucky for you," he drawled, "I enjoy it immensely—it reminds me of potions work, only the results are far more palatable." He tossed the mushrooms into the pan and then pulled out a stool. "Don't dawdle in the doorway."
A laugh escaped her at the rebuke, and Severus mock-glared at her as she sat on the stool. "Would you like some help?"
He smirked, then returned to his task. "Perhaps later. Wine?" he asked, pouring a glass when she nodded.
The next three quarters of an hour was the most pleasant Hermione had experienced in a good long while. As she watched him prepare dinner, they discussed a variety of topics, from the current debacle at the Ministry—on which Hermione was already working, unbeknownst to him—to the latest gossip at Hogwarts. She found his dry wit and acerbic humour to be quite entertaining, as well as intellectually stimulating. He certainly kept her on her toes, and she was enjoying every minute.
There was no awkwardness as he moved about the kitchen, and Hermione could easily imagine that this was a nightly ritual for them. Rather than the discomfort she anticipated, the thought warmed her. Happy with that revelation, she relaxed even more, punctuating her points by occasionally laying a hand on his forearm. Perhaps it was the wine, but soon the two were engaged in a lovely bout of flirting, something Hermione had never truly indulged in but was enjoying immensely.
Severus reached for a wooden spoon, being sure to brush her knee with his hand, and then sampled the sauce he had created. "Hm. I believe it's missing something."
"May I try?" Hermione said, reaching for the spoon.
He ignored her outstretched hand and instead leaned close, blowing a stream of cool air across the surface before raising the spoon to her lips. "Careful now," he murmured, his gaze focussed upon her mouth. "It's hot."
A familiar yet rarely felt heat settled low in her abdomen, and Hermione opened her mouth to accept his offering, her eyes wide. Her lips closed around the spoon, and the flavours exploded against her tongue. "Mmm," she hummed before swallowing as he retracted the spoon. "Yes, I see what you mean. There is something missing, but even so, it's quite delicious."
"Is it?" Severus asked, his eyes still fixed upon her lips.
Hermione heard his breath catch as her own gaze was drawn to his mouth. Slowly, as if gauging her reaction, he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb grazing against her full lower lip.
"Hermione," he breathed, and then he leaned forward and allowed his mouth to brush chastely against her own, once, twice, three times.
Hermione reeled at the feel of his lips pressed to hers. This was how she'd always thought a man's mouth should feel: warm lips, thin but strong and pliable. Not at all like Ron's rather plump, cushiony—
Oh, gods. What was she doing? Her hands came up to his shoulders and pushed lightly. "No, I can't—oh, gods." It wasn't right, and yet it was. But how could it be both? Confusion and panic gripped her as she struggled with the warring desires to both pull him closer and push him away.
Severus took a few steps back, his cheeks flushed and his eyes downcast. The lips that had just kissed her so sweetly were pinched, and she watched as he visibly withdrew from her.
Damn it. In seeking to protect herself, she'd hurt him. Again. "I'm sor—"
"No. No more apologies." He turned away from her to stir the sauce. Lowering the flame under the saucepan, he then returned to preparing the rest of their meal, his spine rigid and his face wiped clean of all emotion.
Guilt gnawed at her once more as she remembered what Minerva had said, that he was more vulnerable than he appeared. Hermione wasn't prepared for the feelings he was evoking; not only was her heart still tender from the end of her marriage to Ron, but she was confused about her place in her own life. Severus knew more about her than she did, and yet she was still herself, still Hermione. Wasn't she?
Part of her longed to be everything she had been during the five years she had lost. But what if she couldn't be that woman, the one who had been his wife? What would happen then? She knew that Severus was aware of the complexities of the situation in which they found themselves, but the reality of it was another issue; it was clear to Hermione that, in that moment, all Severus knew was the sting of rejection.
"Thyme," he said suddenly, wiping his hands on a dish cloth.
"Perhaps a little more," Hermione said, her tone slightly pleading, hoping that he would pick up on the double meaning she intended. She willed him to look at her, her hands itching with the desire to reach out to him.
"Perhaps."
Then he went into the garden to collect the herb, his face hidden behind his curtain of hair.
Hermione lay in her bed curled onto her side as she watched the rain beat against her window, her thumb twisting the ring around her finger. A sigh escaped her lips as she contemplated how to repair the rift she had inadvertently created. Severus had been quiet throughout dinner, his face expressionless, which she was coming to learn was an indication of his wounded feelings.
She'd attempted to apologise again as they'd done the washing up. Severus had paused, having been in the midst of placing a plate in the cabinet, and closed his eyes briefly. Then he had put the dish away, closed the cabinet door, and said, "Do you find the idea of being … affectionate with me to be repulsive? Do you consider marriage to me a hardship?"
"No! That's not it at all! I just …." She had trailed off, not knowing what to say.
He had nodded curtly and said, "I have rounds this evening. I'll be at Hogwarts."
And then he had left.
Hours had passed, and he still had not returned. She had stayed up for far longer than was her wont, pretending to read in front of the fireplace in the sitting room. When she'd realised he wasn't coming back any time soon, she'd given up and gone to bed, hoping to find solace in sleep.
Sleep was proving elusive, however.
Hermione felt the sting of tears, feeling horribly guilty and sad, yet confused. Her emotions were a jumble, and she was growing increasing frustrated; regardless of the five years that had passed for everyone else, to her it had only been a mere two months. She was surprised and a bit baffled by how drawn she was to Severus. The attraction was certainly present, and she had felt his chaste kisses down to the tips of her toes. Yet she couldn't give herself over to the feelings. She couldn't be who everyone wanted her to be; she needed more time to think, to process the changes in her life, to know the woman she had become. But everything seemed to be happening far too quickly, and her need for time was causing pain to those who loved her and cared about her.
It was all too much.
Wiping away the stray tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye, Hermione sniffed and then cuddled deeper into the warm quilt. Just as she was finally drifting to sleep, she heard his footfalls on the stairs. Her heart rate increased with the knowledge that he had returned and then stilled as she heard him pause outside her door. She rolled over and watched the doorknob as she held her breath, wondering if he would enter her room. It seemed as if an eternity passed, and then she heard him continue down the hall, the door to his room quietly opening, then closing.
Hermione rolled back over and closed her eyes. She didn't know if she were relieved or disappointed.
"Don't forget to carry the one … yes … good job, Rose. Now, try the next one, please."
Hermione dropped her bag by the front door and peeked into the dining room. Severus and Rose were ensconced at the dining room table with Rose's homework scattered about the surface, their heads close together, bent over the Muggle paper.
Hermione felt a smile tug at her lips at the similarity to how she did her own work. Part of her longed to sit down with them, to take part in such a domestic scene; but it didn't feel right to intrude on their private time. So she stood in the doorway and observed, not yet willing to actively participate but unable to not take part in some small fashion.
"I understand it now, Severus! Thank you!" Rose exclaimed and hurled herself into his arms.
Hermione smiled at her daughter's typical exuberance, grateful that a familiar aspect of Rose's personality was still present. "I see everyone is working hard," she said, entering the room now that it appeared they were finished.
"Mum!" Rose released Severus only to rush to the door to embrace her mother. "Severus was just helping me with my arithmetic. He's ever so clever, isn't he? That's probably why he's a teacher, don't you think?"
"Hello, my love," Hermione replied fondly. "Yes, Severus is very clever and a very good teacher. I'm glad he could help you."
Rose nodded enthusiastically and proceeded to drag her towards the sitting room. Hermione looked over her shoulder only to see Severus disappear into his study. Her smile faded slightly; he was still upset with her. She sighed and allowed Rose to guide her into the other room. Hugo was lying on the floor, his Famous Witches and Wizards trading cards spread out in front of him.
"Hi, Mum," the boy said, his eyes trained on his cards as he organised them into some sort of system known only to him.
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Is that any way to greet your mother, young man?"
Hugo scrambled to his feet, grinning sheepishly and looking every bit the spitting image of his father. "Sorry," he said and then gave her a quick hug before returning to his spot on the floor.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione all but collapsed onto the sofa. She was getting used to these older versions of her children, and thankfully no longer felt the ache that had accompanied her initial interactions with them. They were such lovely children that it was easy to ignore the pang of loss and simply love them.
Rose followed her onto the sofa and snuggled into her side as they chatted about their respective days and their plans for the evening. Rose had completed her homework and was looking forward to a promised Potions lesson from Severus. Hugo, on the other hand, had not yet completed his homework. "After dinner, Mum. All right?"
At times it was almost scary how much he was like his father.
"Where's Severus?" Hugo asked as he placed Paracelsus next to Agrippa.
"Hm? Oh, I think he's in his study. Why?" Hermione asked.
Hugo shrugged. "Just wonderin'."
"Wondering," Hermione automatically corrected. She rested her head on the back of the sofa, her fingers distractedly toying with a lock of Rose's hair.
Rose sighed. "This is supposed to be family time. It's not right that he's not here, and he's missed every day this week!"
"Family time?"
Hugo nodded. "Yeah. We're supposed to be in here together before dinner. You always say it's important."
"I see," Hermione said with a frown. She supposed that family time did sound like something she would implement. "So it's unusual for him not to be here?"
Rose and Hugo didn't say anything—they didn't have to. Instead, they looked at each other, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at the silent conversation. Finally, Hugo looked at her and said, "Is Severus mad at us?"
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified that the children had come to such a conclusion. "Of course he's not. Why would you think that?"
"He's not been here for family time," Rose explained.
"But he helped Rose with her homework, and he's still gonna do Potions with her," Hugo added sadly, propping his chin in one hand, "so maybe he's just mad at me."
Hermione slid off the sofa and onto the floor, her arms outstretched. Hugo immediately scrambled into her lap, and Hermione wrapped her arms around him. "That's nonsense, Hugo, do you understand? Severus is not angry at you, not at all! You've done nothing wrong."
"But then why—?"
"He's upset with me," Hermione inserted firmly. "We had a small misunderstanding while you were at your father's. That's all. I promise you, Hugo, and you, as well, Rose, this has nothing to do with either of you. All right?"
Two sad little faces reluctantly nodded, and then Rose looked at her worriedly. Hermione quickly realised that Rose, as the eldest, might have a vague recollection of the end of her parents' marriage and was possibly concerned that her mother and step-father were having a disagreement.
"It's nothing to worry about, I promise," Hermione assured them, her gaze focused on Rose. Then she squeezed Hugo more tightly and reached out an arm to pull Rose into her embrace, as well.
"So, it's family time, eh?" she said after a few minutes.
The two gingered heads bobbed up and down in reply.
"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to remind him that he's to be here with his family, won't I?"
Hermione's lips curved into a wry grin; she would be reminding him of something. How ironic.
The door was shut, but Hermione didn't let that stop her. She rapped her knuckles against the wooden barrier and then entered, not bothering to wait for his permission. Severus was standing at the window with his back to her. At her entrance, he jerked around to face her.
"I'm sorry for interrupting," Hermione said, careful to keep her tone neutral, "but the children have informed me that you are missing family time."
Severus looked away and then gave a curt nod.
Hermione moved farther into the room, enabling her to view him in profile. "According to Rose and Hugo, this is a nightly event, one that you have missed every day this week. Apparently this is quite unlike you, even to the point where Hugo asked if you were put out with him."
For the briefest of moments, Severus appeared severely agonised by her words, but then the impassive mask he had been wearing for the past week reappeared. It made Hermione want to kick something.
"I'll cook dinner this evening," she continued when it became apparent that he was not going to speak. "The children are missing you, particularly Hugo." She stepped closer to him and reached out a hand. He immediately moved to stand behind his desk, and Hermione let her hand drop to her side. She attempted to ignore the hurt his rejection wrought, but she couldn't brush aside the heavy weight in her heart. Now you have some idea of how he feels, she thought as her stomach churned in commiseration. "I know you're upset with me, but please, don't withdraw from the children. They obviously adore you, and they're beginning to wonder if they've done something wrong."
Severus remained silent, his gaze firmly fixed on the surface of his desk. Finally, he nodded and walked around the desk towards the door. As he passed her, Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers. He paused, his back rigid and his jaw clenched.
"Thank you."
She squeezed his hand and was about to release him when his fingers tightened on hers. He turned to her, and just like that night in the kitchen, his right hand lifted to cup her cheek. For once, Hermione didn't balk at the feelings his touch wrought in her; she wanted to be close to him like this, like it was natural … normal. Hermione didn't know how much time passed as they stared into each other's eyes; she only knew that the moment was broken when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to her forehead before he murmured, "I'm sorry for being such a bast—"
Quickly, she silenced him by putting a finger to his lips. "No. No more apologies." She removed her finger, and he smirked, then nodded his agreement.
"No more apologies."
Hermione shut the front door and hung her cloak on the rack as she muttered under her breath. Her day had been positively wretched. Her current project was a gruelling one, and her supervisor was demanding an unreasonable timeline for its completion. Hermione usually thrived in such circumstances, but with her emotional state in upheaval, she found the work exhausting rather than stimulating.
She went up to her room and changed into more comfortable clothes, glad to be out of her work robes and her uncomfortable shoes. Tossing the offending footwear into the bottom of her wardrobe, she made a mental note to purchase a new pair at the weekend; the current pair just didn't fit quite right. In the meantime, her feet were much more comfortable in her favourite woolly socks; she felt more relaxed already.
Taking down her hair and a cool splash of water on her face both helped immensely, as well, and she ventured back downstairs to see what Severus had planned for family time. They had been taking turns throughout the week, and tonight was Severus' night to decide how they would spend the time before dinner.
She found them in the dining room, all seated around the table as they dug through a shallow, rectangular box. Hugo saw her first and greeted her with a wide grin.
"Mum, look! We're going to play Diagon Alley!"
Hermione smiled quizzically. She had never heard of the wizarding game. Severus seemed to recognize the question in her eyes and handed her the top of the game box. She read the back and grinned. It appeared to be similar to Monopoly but with wizarding properties and currency.
"That sounds like a lovely idea," Hermione replied, stifling a yawn as she took the empty seat next to Rose and across from Hugo. She smiled at Severus, who looked at her with narrowed eyes.
"You are tired."
"Is it that obvious?" Hermione replied wryly. "This project has been a nightmare."
"Perhaps you should lie down before dinner," Severus said, his brow furrowed in concern.
The children began to protest, and Hermione laughed as she held up a hand. "I'm fine. I'll go to bed right after dinner, I promise, but right now I think I'd rather play the game."
And with that, Hermione reached in the box and pulled out a tiny pewter owl, smiling as the small token hooted and nuzzled her finger. She placed the owl on the board and rubbed her hands together in anticipation, ready to play her first game of Diagon Alley.
"Erm, Mum?" Hugo said tentatively. "That's my piece. I always play the owl. Rose is the book, Severus is the cauldron, and you're the quill."
Hermione looked up, her smile quickly fading, and she was instantly confronted with the confused eyes of her son. She glanced at Rose; her head was bowed, her hands in her lap. Then she turned to Severus. His expression was blank.
Swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat, Hermione attempted a smile. "I'm so sorry, darling. Of course the owl is yours. I'll take the quill."
The game began, and the children soon forgot her slip as bits of property were bought and rents were collected. Florean Fortescue's was snatched up quickly by Rose, and Hugo crowed with triumph as he purchased the coveted Ollivanders. Severus grumbled when he was sent to Azkaban, causing the children to laugh in delight. Round and round the board they went. Flourish and Blotts was the last property to be bought, and then everyone tried their best to stay out of Knockturn Alley. A good time was had by all …
Except for Hermione, who, despite her best effort, was unable to purge the twinge of sadness that lingered in her heart.
Hermione stood in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron and smiled. "Hello," she said.
The patrons all turned to look at her. Everyone grinned and greeted her with warm salutations.
"Hello, Hermione!"
"Wotcher, Hermione!"
"Hermione, it's so good to see you!"
Pleased, she left the pub and entered Diagon Alley. The familiar street was illuminated by the bright sunshine, and Hermione quickly made her way to Flourish and Blotts, then Eeylops Owl Emporium, and on to Florean Fortescue's and Madame Malkin's, buying each location with a bag of Galleons she pulled from beneath her cloak. The owners were more than happy to give her the deeds to their properties. In fact, everywhere she went, she was happily greeted by those she encountered. Everyone she met along way seemed to know her, calling her name and waving as they passed.
Finally, she turned and walked down the dark, twisting path that was Knockturn Alley. Even there the people grinned and waved, greeting her kindly by name as she peeked in windows and explored the mysterious alley. Finding nothing that she was interested in purchasing, she waved good-bye to the smiling patrons of Knockturn Alley and spun on her heel, Disapparating with a pop.
She reappeared outside the small cottage in Hogsmeade and quickly made her way up the path to the front door. She entered, her arrival heralded by her exuberant children.
"Hello, Mum! Hello!" they said as the danced around her in circles.
Her husband entered the hallway, as well, and Hermione frowned. His eyes were shielded by a shadow, and no matter from which angle she approached, she couldn't quite make them out.
"The eyes are the window to the soul," the man intoned, and Hermione then smiled and agreed.
Suddenly, she was in the loo, her reflection smiling at her from the mirror over the sink. Hermione smiled back, and then her mirror-self tilted her head to one side and said, "Hello. Who are you?"
Hermione frowned. "I'm Hermione."
"Who are you?" the reflection asked again.
"Hermione."
"I'm sorry," her mirror-self replied, "but who are you?"
Panic began to swell with in her chest, and her breath quickened, her hands trembling as they gripped the sides of the sink. "I'm you! I mean … I'm me! I'm Hermione."
"Who are you?" the mirror mocked, its smile turning sinister. "Who are you?"
"Stop it! I'm me! Me!"
Her reflection merely looked at her, returning to its former impassivity, and asked …
"But who are you?"
Hermione woke gasping for breath, her nightgown twisted around her legs. Throwing back the covers, she leapt from the bed, then yanked open the door and ran down the hall. The next thing she knew, she was standing in Severus' doorway, trembling from head to foot.
Severus sat up in the bed and squinted at her in the darkness. "Hermione?"
A small sob escaped at the sound of his sleep-roughened voice saying her name, reminding her of the dream from which she had just awakened.
"What's wrong?" he asked, shifting so that he was seated on the edge of the bed.
Hermione couldn't speak; the dream was still so fresh in her mind. She jumped slightly as she felt Severus' hands on her shoulders; she hadn't noticed him leaving the bed. If she hadn't been so out of sorts, she would have smiled at the sight of him in his grey nightshirt. As it was, her mind was barely able to process that he was even in the same room with her.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
She nodded, the movement short and jerky.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head fiercely.
"I see. Would you like me to get you some water? Tea?"
"No." Somehow she managed to choke out the word; her throat was still tight with fear.
Severus sighed in exasperation, his exhaustion clearly etched upon his face. "Do need me to check under your bed?"
His impatience and parental tone caused her eyes to once again fill with tears, and her lower lip quivered.
Severus was immediately contrite, pulling her into his arms and whispering soothing nonsense into her ear. Hermione clung to him, and he held her tightly until her trembling ceased.
"Do you wish to talk about it now?"
Hermione closed her eyes and gripped him tighter. "Everyone knew me—everyone. But not me," she whispered against his neck. "I didn't know me."
"Oh, Hermione." He continued to soothe her for several minutes, holding her tightly to him as he smoothed her hair with his hand, until her body finally relaxed and her eyes began to droop. "It's quite late. Come. Let me take you back to your room."
Hermione immediately stiffened in his grasp. "No, I—" She knew what she wanted, but she wasn't at all certain he would agree. She just couldn't imagine sleeping alone. Not now. "Would it be all right if I slept here tonight? Please?"
The hand that had been stroking her hair stilled, and he was silent for several minutes. Finally, Severus led her to the bed, tucking her in before climbing in himself. Despite the tension radiating off him, Hermione snuggled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder and one arm thrown across his stomach. She felt safe and protected—she felt at ease.
"I just need a bit more time," she muttered, almost asleep, the words punctuated by a yawn. "Don't leave me. Promise."
A heartbeat later she heard him solemnly utter the words that would allow her to rest undisturbed: "I will never leave you. I swear it."
Hermione sighed in relief, her heart warmed by his oath. "Thank you."
The tension in his form seemed to melt away, and Severus shifted his arm so that he could hold her to him, his other hand drifting over his stomach, seeking out hers to link their fingers together. He buried his nose in her hair, his mouth resting against her temple, and Hermione sighed contentedly, feeling as if she were made to fit there. His thumb toyed with her wedding band for a moment, and then, just as she succumbed to sleep, she heard him whisper, "You've always been welcome."
A/N: Thanks again to my betas, DeeMichelle and Subversa, and to my Brit picker, LettyBird. You're the best! I'd also like to thank machshefa for all of her advice.
The next chapter will be up in a day or two.