Chapter Twelve
She knew the moment he insisted on accompanying the Malfoys into the Pensieve they'd wind up here: him kneeling in supplication to the porcelain god of bathroom fixtures and her trying desperately not to berate him for foolishly believing he had the stomach for returning to such traumatizing memories so soon after experiencing them firsthand. Thankfully, for his dignity at least, he'd managed to hold himself together until he'd regained their quarters and the pallid and distressed aristocrats distracted Minerva and Poppy.
Hermione gently rubbed Severus' back and pressed a cool flannel against the back of his neck, reluctantly grateful he'd chosen to relinquish his longer ebony locks for the more conservative cut preferred by the staff members on the Muggle side of his department. Her heart ached with each contraction of his muscles as he retched. God, she hated seeing him like this. Perhaps it was time to discuss job options with him again.
"There's an emotional toll with most jobs, love," he reminded her once her panic over finding him heaving behind one of her mother's prized Semperflorens subsided. "And the fees for this one isn't nearly as bad as the lost appetite and knotted intestines that accompany teaching a classroom of Longbottoms whilst attempting to placate a Dark wizard and his Light counterpart."
"But they might be higher than simply teaching Potions now that your spy days are behind you." Hermione slipped her hand from his, a fresh wave of tears stinging her tired eyes as she diverted her gaze to a clump of dandelions missed by the man her father hired to tend the lawns. "And if it weren't for my silly fears—"
The pressure of his fingers against her chin was gentle but persistent. When she relented and looked at him again, the compassion-laced desire in the inky depths of his eyes stole her breath. "Your fears aren't silly, Hermione. Nor are they unfounded. And if occasionally sacrificing the remnants of a meal is the price for your safety." He brushed a curling tendril of hair behind her ear. "Then it is a paltry sum indeed."
"But—"
He pressed the pad of his index finger against her lips. "There are no 'buts', my darling girl." She shivered at the exciting tingle his touch urged through her. "This case only affected me this way because I wasn't allowed time to assimilate to the events before I was plunged back into them." He tilted his head and offered her a sincere half-smile. "I happen to like my job, Hermione. I am finally able to make a difference, save a life because I want to, not because I've been coerced into doing so by a ruddy Unbreakable Vow. It's my chance to offer redemption instead of seek it." He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Allow me to do this, love, and I promise if it becomes too much, we'll discuss other options."
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, allowing his words to war with her worry. Drawing in a shaky breath, she nodded. "All right." She looked at him fiercely. "But if you think I won't badger you into the next dimension if—"
Severus' lips were firmly gentle against her own, damming the rest of her threat behind her passion. He sipped casually at her mouth, tongue teasing and tasting until she was too breathless and too unbalanced to remember anything but the way she loved him. Finally, he eased away. "You have my word, my darling girl." He gave her a crooked little grin. "Now let's return to this puerile wedding shower before your parents determine our rude treatment of their friends is cause for another six month sentence in the Siberian wilderness of communication."
Her husband shifted, and her memories dissipated beneath a brush of concern. Was there another wave to come? She glanced at him; studied the bruising hues left beneath his eyes by the storm; watched for any telltale twitch warning of another round with the porcelain bowl. He lifted his eyes to hers, embarrassment warring with an apology in the dark depths. She smiled and gently wiped his face with the flannel. "Better?"
He nodded, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth to cast a freshening charm. "I will be."
Standing, he swayed slightly as he straightened. She reached for him, but he waved her off, staggering toward the sink. With a single flick of his wand, the toilet flushed and water poured from the pewter taps, filling the black marble basin. Hermione waited until the assurance he sent through their bond flooded her soul. He'd been coddled quite enough, thank you very much.
"Well, if that's the case." Hermione stood. "I'll just leave you to it and go check on—"
"Before you do." She glanced in the mirror, his dark eyes as alive in the reflection as they were when gazing directly at her. It was easy to see the flicker of an uneasy tension in them, and in the deepening crease between his eyebrows. "There is something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you quite some time ago." His sigh was deep enough to lift his shoulders perceptibly. "Something that may, at least partially explain not only Ron's addictions, but Molly's unsuitability as Rose's guardian."
A band of worry tightened around her heart. Knowing how important blood bonds were in the wizarding world, she'd questioned why Poppy had adamantly refused to determine paternity. Wondered why the matron refused to be party to reporting the circumstances of Rose's birth to the Ministry— A Ministry who had a history of putting family before the actual welfare of the child. But now that the answer was within reach… Well, there were times Hermione wished her curiosity would resist and allow her to remain blissfully ignorant. "What exactly did you see in that girl's memories, Severus?"
Her husband's shields veiled his gaze for only a moment. And when they lifted, Hermione could see into the very depths of his heart. "I will tell you, my darling girl." A sad smile touched his lips. "I will tell you everything."
