More plot ahead, folks! Plus, one of my favorite bits of dialogue I've ever written... hope you enjoy it!
The rest of the week was filled with tension. Several times a day, the tawny owl pecked against the window to bring a new letter. Hermione never opened any of them. She confunded the bird and sent it back without even removing the parchment from its leg.
They both felt on edge, clutching their wands at loud noises, peering out the windows through the swirling snow to look for any intruders. Even Atticus noticed the somber mood between them and played in a more subdued fashion than usual. Hermione spent much of her time holding him and whispering her love and encouragement to him. She felt her heart might burst at the thought of him caught in the middle of this mess. He was so small, so innocent. The idea that he could be put in Phillipe's hands made her physically ill. She'd die before she let that happen.
It was during those times that she was most grateful for Severus' constant presence. He didn't go down to the lab to brew at all that week. He would sit in the library with a book he wasn't reading, prowl the house looking for drafts that weren't there, brave the snow to check the parameters of the estate and make sure there were no cracks in their wards. He entertained Atticus while Hermione cooked, continually made sure Hermione felt safe, and all in all proved himself to be every inch the man Hermione knew him to be. The type of man any witch would fight to keep in her life.
When it wasn't consumed with fear for the future, Hermione's mind wandered back to their night in the library, and the touches they'd shared. Despite the camaraderie that had cropped up between them in the last months, that evening was the most physical contact they'd ever had. She couldn't forget the way it had felt to have his fingers circling her wrist, such a contrast to the way Phillipe had touched her to cause pain. Or how he had cupped her cheek while on his knees before her, desperate for her to let him help her. And, perhaps most of all, the kiss he'd pressed to her forehead. It was such an innocent act, in and of itself. Something she'd done a thousand times to Harry and Ron. Something her grandmother had done to her every holiday. So why did it feel as if that soft contact had seared straight down to her heart?
Was it just that it had been far too long since a man touched her tenderly? Or was it Severus, specifically, that made her heart pound and her knees weak? Despite how crazy the notion was, she strongly suspected the latter. It was a strange, surprising realization. Yes, things between them had been going well. They got along, liked and respected one another, but more than that? She still felt caught, tugged in several different directions all at once. The idea of confronting her admittedly complex feelings for Severus was unsettling. Instead, it was easier to push them away for now, especially with such a good excuse to focus on something else.
The owl's appearance at the window increased from once or twice a day to a dozen times. More than once, Hermione gave serious thought to trying to catch the poor creature and keep it caged until this was over, simply to keep Phillipe from running it ragged. There were letters, howlers, even packages that she didn't dare contemplate the contents of. Even still, it seemed such a mild effort to get at her. So much so that Hermione was afraid when Phillipe finally decided to do more, it would be much, much more all at once.
Hermione never let Atticus out of her sight. She knew that Phillips had no idea he even existed, but she continued to have terrible visions of her ex husband snatching her son from her grasp and vanishing with him. It was her worst fear. At first, Atticus was happy for the extra attention from his mother. They played, read stories, and snuggled together. After a while, though, the confinement began to rankle on the little boy, despite the big house in which he could run around. He wanted to go out and play in the snow. He wanted to visit the gardens. He began to act out, trying harder and harder to push the limits of his new situation. Hermione was at her wit's end keeping him occupied, frazzled and exhausted. Even Severus, who usually had immeasurable patience for Atticus, was having a hard time distracting the child from his insistent demands.
They had just finished breakfast a week after Phillipe had showed up, when the owl arrived. Hermione had tried simply not letting it in, but that hadn't deterred it, and it had sat on their window ledge for hours before she finally took pity and let it in from the cold, confunded it, and sent it back on its way. So Hermione opened the window, prepared to let it fly inside. The owl barely made it through the casing when it exploded. The window shattered. Blood and feathers flew in all directions, spattering the kitchen and its occupants in gore. Hermione screamed. Atticus shrieked and then began to bawl. Severus leaped to his feet, slammed the broken window shut, and then yanked Hermione away from it.
She scooped Atticus up and began to try and wipe away the blood with shaking fingers, hushing him gently and promising him everything was alright. Severus took one last look at the figure standing at the edge of the wards, then went to Hermione. With a few quick spells, he repaired the broken glass and cleaned most of the carnage from the three of them. Unfortunately it would take more than basic spells to rid the kitchen of evidence of the explosion, but that would have to wait. Hermione let Atticus cling to her, trying to halt his hysterical crying. When Severus drew close, the little boy snatched at the front of Severus' shirt and clutched him tightly. With his only choices to either wrench himself free of the child's grasp or press himself against Hermione, Severus chose to draw closer and wrap both arms around the pair of them. Any doubts he might have had whether Hermione would welcome the contact vanished as she melted against him.
Together, they calmed Atticus until he stopped crying. Severus summoned the little blue bunny from the living room, and Atticus immediately stuffed one worn foot in his mouth. After a few minutes, he finally stopped sniffling and wiggled to get down. Severus charmed a set of balls to float around the living room and let the boy chase after them.
"How did he manage that through our wards?" Hermione whispered as Atticus ran through the living room.
"He didn't. I believe he shoved something down the bird's throat before sending it to the window. A small explosive of some sort."
"But it couldn't have gone far like that!"
"No," Severus agreed softly, "it couldn't." Hermione turned to him with horror in her eyes.
"He's here, isn't he?"
Severus nodded. "I spotted him at the edge of the wards. But he can't get through."
"That won't stop him. He'll stay there until he finds a way like he did with the owl. He won't give up..." Hermione fought the panic welling up inside her. She needed to stay calm. To stay rational. "I'll go out and talk to him again. Tell him that I'll call the aurors if he doesn't leave."
"Hermione..." Severus didn't want her anywhere near Phillipe. More than anything, he wanted to lock Hermione and Atticus inside and handle this himself. But he couldn't order her to stay away.
"I'll stay in this side of the wards the entire time," she assured him. "He won't be able to touch me."
"Do you really think talking to him will make any difference?"
"I... I don't know. But I don't have anything else to try."
"You could let me help you."
"What would you do?" She searched his eyes, as if sensing the barely contained violence within him.
"I would talk to him. Make it clear that there are consequences for stalking you. And unless I've lost my touch completely, intimidate the hell out of him."
Hermione almost smiled at that. Despite the tempering of his personality, Severus Snape had certainly not lost his touch when it came to intimidation. How she would love to see Phillipe cower before the man. But this was her fight. She laid her hand against his chest and shook her head. "Not now. If this doesn't work, maybe. If Atticus somehow gets involved, absolutely. But I need to try and handle this on my own."
Severus studied her, seeing the resolve there. Then he nodded. "Alright, then. We will stay inside. Leave the door open, but put your strongest shield over it. I want you to be able to get inside quickly, if you should need."
"I will." She turned, knelt down, and called Atticus over to her. He was hesitant to stop chasing after the balls that bounced enticingly away, but went to his mother. "I need to go out for a few minutes, Atty. You are to stay inside and do what Severus says. Can you do that for me?"
"Ou'side? Mummy go ou'side?" His eyes lit up and he began to jump up and down. "Atty go ou'side!"
"No, baby. You have to stay inside. I'll be right back."
"Atty go ou'side!"
"No, Atticus. I mean it. You are to stay in the house with Severus."
"No no no!" The little boy threw himself on the ground and pounded the floor. "Atty ou'side! Atty ou'side!" He began chanting, louder and louder.
"Atticus Wendall Granger!" Hermione wanted to shake him. Couldn't he tell how important this was? Didn't he realize that he was in danger?
"Hermione." Severus placed a hand on her shoulder and looked between them understandingly. "Let him throw his tantrum. Any other time, I wouldn't interfere with your attempts to stop him, but right now, there are bigger matters at hand." He was right. She stood up and blocked out the sounds of Atticus' yelling. With quick, efficient movements designed to keep her hands from shaking, Hermione drew on her coat and opened the door. "Your strongest shield over the door," Severus reminded her. She stepped over the threshold, then turned back and put the shield charm in place. With one last look at Severus, and then at her son, still crying inside, she began walking out to the edge of the wards where a lone figure waited for her.
Severus kept her in his line of sight while flicking his wand at the enchanted toys to send them bouncing lightly off Atticus' head. After the third ball careened away, he stopped yelling and started giggling. By the fifth, he shrieked with laughter and pushed to his feet, happy to chase the balls around again. Hermione made it to the edge of the wards and began talking. Severus couldn't make out all the words, but he could tell from the jerky, quick gestures of Phillipe that the man was furious. Hermione took a sharp step backwards and Severus gripped his wand. But she was still safe behind the wards. Phillips rebounded off them when he tried to snatch at her. He pounded both fists against the invisible barrier, his angry shouts carrying across the lawn.
"...back here you dirty slut! You're nothing more... ...what I say! I'll show you..." His voice rose and fell, bringing snippets of his ugly words into the house.
"Stop it, Phillipe!" Atticus looked up at the sound of his mother's voice, shrill and angry. He saw her standing in the yard and let out a squeal of happiness. Quicker than a shot, he raced across the room and towards the door. Severus started after him, prepared to calm him when he realized he could do no more than bounce off Hermione's shield. He was almost there when, to his horror, Atticus preformed his first unintentional magic. Instead of hitting the shield and stumbling back, he melted through the shield and then solidified on the other side. He looked back at Severus, confused as to what had just happened, then turned to his mother and began to run to her.
"Hermione!" Severus slammed into the shield and barely managed to stay upright. "Hermione!" he bellowed again, whipping out his wand and tearing at the charm blocking his way. Hermione turned, saw Atticus running towards her, felt the hot sting of rebound as Severus managed to rip her shield down. She felt as if everything began to happen in slow motion. Phillipe's eyes turned to Atticus. Hermione began to run to her son. Severus did the same. Atticus flew through the snow, shrieking happily, arms held out for his mother. The three of them collided midway across the lawn. Hermione yanked Atticus against her and her momentum made her crash into Severus' chest. Somehow he stayed upright, bracing against Hermione just enough to keep Atticus from being smashed between them. In a split second he wrapped his arms around her and whirled them around so that he was between them and Phillipe, his back to the other man.
"Who was that?" Phillipe demanded behind them. Severus clutched Hermione and Atticus more tightly against his chest at the sound of his angry voice. White hot rage flashed through him and then he pushed it away. With effort, he loosened his grip on Hermione and looked down at her, his chest still rising and falling sharply. She, too, was fighting to catch her breath, body trembling with turbulent emotions. "Is that my son?"
Hermione's whole body lurched. For a moment, Severus thought she was going to black out from the sheer terror he saw reflected in her eyes. "Let me handle this now," he urged her softly. His deep, nearly hypnotic voice seemed to center her somewhat. She looked down at her son, a thousand thoughts rushing through her mind all at once. Then she nodded. It came down to trust. Did she trust Severus to protect her and Atticus? Did she trust him to deal with Phillipe the best way he could? Did she trust him not to judge her for needing his help?
The answer to all of them was yes. She nodded. A wealth of tension she hadn't noticed before left him all of a sudden. What she saw in his eyes was nearly frightening in it's intensity. Devotion. Absolute, unwavering devotion. And then just like that, it was gone and his face had hardened into the mask she'd seen in her childhood. Not Severus Snape the man, not Snape the professor, but Snape the Death Eater. Cold, powerful, dangerous. Only the gentle way he touched her cheek told her that the man she had come to know and care for was still within him.
"There is no need for you to stay out in the cold," he said evenly. Not an order, not really a request. Still, Hermione backed out of the circle of his arms and then turned towards the house.
"Is that my fucking kid?" Phillipe screamed behind her. She ignored it and walked away.
Severus took his time, letting his mind fall into icy control, conjuring his black robes around himself like battle armor. Then he turned.
"Is that my-" Phillipe stopped short when confronted with Severus Snape's black eyes.
"No, Mr Durand, that is not your son." Phillipe blanched at the venom in his voice, but then went on.
"He looks the right age. I bet that bitch ran off with my-" he was cut off as Severus' arm shot through the ward and wrapped around Phillipe's throat.
"You are mistaken. The boy is mine and his mother is under my protection. Insult her again at... your... peril." The drawled words made Phillipe pale further. He clawed at Severus' hand trying to get it off.
"Get your fucking hands off me! Do you know who I am?"
Severus didn't lighten his grip. "I am...aware. The question, Mr Durand, is if you know who I am." He yanked Phillipe forward until his face was pressed against the barrier painfully. For the first time, Phillipe really looked at Severus. His wide eyes travelled from the billowing black robes, to the hooked nose, and finally up to Severus' own glittering gaze.
"S-Snape? Severus Snape?"
"That's right," he drawled softly. "It seems you aren't as stupid as you appear. Perhaps merely suicidal? Stalking the family of a Death Eater and spy, the man who killed Albus Dumbledore and outmatched the Dark Lord himself... what a dangerous undertaking." Severus let his lips curl up into a sneer. "Maybe you are braver than I thought. Because, you see, I think you are very much a coward. Preying on those you can manipulate into being intimidated by you, relying on brute force against those physically weaker than you to get your way. Does it make you feel like a man to force yourself on a woman who won't fight back? Does it make you feel powerful to belittle others until they cower before you?
"You aren't a man. You're a rat. Vermin that has infested my home," His voice rose from it's deadly whisper, growling out as his grip on Phillipe's throat tightened, "and attacked my family! Tell me why I shouldn't slaughter you where you stand." Phillipe was flailing desperately now, pressing his hands against the wards and trying to yank his neck from Severus' iron grip. He let out a garbled shriek, terror bringing tears to his eyes. "Silence," Severus hissed. Phillipe froze, too afraid to disobey. "You are going to leave this place. You are going to slink back to France and never again set foot on English soil. You are going to forget you ever heard the name Hermione Granger. If you do not, I will know. If you even speak her name again, I will know. And I won't bring the aurors into the matter. Instead, one night, you will find yourself in a dark alley alone with me. And no one will ever find your body."
He squeezed Phillipe's throat tighter, then flung him backwards. The man stumbled, crashed to the ground and crawled back, his eyes never leaving Severus. "Get out of my sight," Severus ordered him. Phillipe lifted his hand to his throat as if he could still feel long, impossibly strong fingers there cutting off his air. The he Apparated away.
Severus let out a long slow breath, releasing the toxic persona he'd slipped into. The one he never thought he would wear again. But there was no guilt, no conflict of feelings, that accompanied it this time. He'd done what he needed to do to protect Hermione and Atticus, and he would do so again. Gladly. Once he was certain all the violence had left him, he made his way back to the house.
Hermione had stopped just inside the door, frozen to the spot as the conversation between Severus and Phillipe had reached her ears. He'd said terrifying things. Spoken of himself in the darkest of terms. But what had rooted Hermione to the floor, what replayed over and over again in her mind, was that he'd called Atticus his. He'd referred to Hermione and her son as his family. Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed too tightly within her chest. How was she supposed to respond to those declarations?
Of course he'd been saying what Phillipe needed to hear to stop stalking them. He'd said that Atticus wasn't Phillipe's son, which was just as much of a lie. So why couldn't she put it from her mind? Why, as she watched Severus cross the lawn towards her in long strides, couldn't he keep herself from desperately hoping that he'd meant them?
"Are you both alright?" he asked softly when he reached them. Hermione nodded, still clutching Atticus to her chest. "Hermione, I had no idea he could get through your shield. You have to believe that if I thought, even for a moment, that he could pass through it, I wouldn't have let him anywhere-"
"I know," she interrupted him. "Of course I know that. How could you have guessed he would be able to? Even you had trouble getting past it."
"I should have been quicker. He was just barely out of arm's reach, and once he'd gone through, I had to take your charm down before I could get him. I'm so sorry, Hermione."
"Severus, stop. There's no way you could have known. It happened, and you dealt with it. You didn't have to. You didn't have to get involved in any of this. You chose to. And for that I can't express my gratitude enough."
"I don't need your thanks for that," he murmured softly. "In fact, you deserve mine for letting me speak on your behalf. I know you wanted to handle this on your own. I respect that more than I can say. But people like him, bullies, megalomaniacs, they don't listen to reason. They only respond to power. They make themselves feel strong by intimidating those weaker than them. When confronted with someone bigger than them, their true cowardice shows."
Hermione nodded. "I know. I heard what you said to him." Severus stilled. His breath caught and he cursed himself for not remembering how much the sound carried across the distance.
"You heard it? All of it?"
"Yes."
"Hermione-" He swallowed, trying to decide where to start. She hadn't ridiculed him or angrily demanded an explanation, which was a positive start, at least.
"Wait." Hermione stepped back, making Severus' heart clutch painfully. "I need to sit down, if we're going to talk. I know I should lay him down, but I can't bear to let him go quite yet." She looked down at Atticus, who had fallen asleep on her chest.
"Of course," Severus said in a rush. "Get comfortable and I'll put the kettle on. Then we can go from there." She nodded, hitching her son higher in her arms and moving down the hallway towards the library. Severus put together the tea service quickly, thoughts spinning madly. With effort, he calmed his mind and levitated the tea tray ahead of him into the library.
Hermione had settled herself into her chair and propped her feet up on the footstool. Atticus slept in her arms, his head pillowed on her breast and one little hand resting against her shoulder. She was humming to him softly. Every few moments, she kissed the top of his head or brushed his hair off his forehead. Severus cleared his throat softly so he didn't startle her when he entered. She looked up, and the tender look in her eyes didn't fade as he'd expected it to. Disquieted, he took his seat next to her and prepared two cups of tea, then handed her one.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"You are very welcome," he replied just as quietly.
"You were right, about Phillipe. About me not being the right person to handle him. I hate that I had to involve you, but he didn't respect me, and he never would have listened to me. And, if I'm being perfectly honest, I'm not sure I'm in the right place, emotionally, to bear his ire. Just being near him takes me back to the girl I was... I felt so weak, so worthless."
"You are neither," Severus interjected fervently. "It is very important that you realize that when I spoke of him bullying those weaker than himself, I meant physically. You are a far more powerful and intelligent than him. The weakness that he made you feel, the inferiority, was a lie."
"I- I know," she admitted. "It's taken me a long time to believe that, and I still have a way to go, but intellectually, I know you're right. He couldn't control me unless he had me convinced that I needed him. That I was helpless without him. Too stupid, too broken, to function without him to lead me. I know it was just a tool to make me easier to manipulate. Still, it's a hard habit to break. Hard not to let myself slip back into that mindset when confronted directly by him. And I hate that." There were tears in her eyes and she blinked them back furiously.
"Accepting the truth of it is the first step, even if you can't feel it all the time. It might take years to rid yourself of his influence completely. But you'll never have to face him again. You can stop being afraid of him and start moving on with your life."
"I have you to thank for that."
"You did it, Hermione. You left him. You defied him after he'd stripped you of everything you were. You had the courage to get away from him, pregnant, penniless, and alone. You are the one who did that."
"I know. But you gave me back a life without fear. I hadn't realized, until he showed up last week, just how much I had been letting that fear affect my life. Affect Atty's life."
"You have done nothing short of an exemplary job with your son. Never doubt that."
"I appreciate that. It means... a lot, coming from you." She looked down at Atticus, then took a breath and brought up what had been most on her mind. "And what you said about him, to Phillipe-"
"Hermione, please let me say that I meant nothing untoward by what I said. I won't lie to you and say that it was a fabrication for Phillipe's sake alone. But I have no intention of becoming an imposition in your life. And I have no misconceptions about my small place in your son's. Whatever else you take from my words earlier, know that I am not expecting anything from you."
"Severus." She set down her cup and placed her hand lightly over his. "I wasn't upset by what you said. Surprised, absolutely. But not unhappy or concerned. Not by far."
"You're...not?" He looked at where her fingers were resting lightly on the back of his hand and felt his breath hitch.
"No. Atty adores you. You have come to mean very much, to both of us, in very little time. The fact that you feel the same way about him is wonderful. I've never once felt that you were overstepping your bounds with him. From the very first you have been careful to make sure I was comfortable with everything you did that included him."
She paused, drawing her hand away so he didn't mistake her next words for an expectation of more. "It's been a long time since I had family. Growing up, I had so much. My parents, Harry and Ron, all the Weasleys," she smiled a little through a sheen of tears. "And then it seemed like I lost all of them at once. It was my own doing, but still, it hurt. Hearing you say that we were your family... It felt so good. I know we have long since skewed the line between employer and employee, but I'm not going to pretend that I'm not glad."
"I had been afraid, considering what you've been through, that the idea would terrify you."
"I'm not saying that I don't have my doubts and fears. There are plenty of those. But the predominant feeling is glad."
"It has never been my intention to push you further than you are comfortable, and immediately after going through a traumatic confrontation is not ideal timing, but perhaps it would be best if I showed my hand. I have been drawn to you, Hermione. Almost from the first. How could I not be?" He gave a short laugh and shook his head. "You are brilliant, beautiful, caring, generous, a paragon of motherhood, and you landed on my doorstep as if the fates themselves had led you there.
"The only reason I asked Minerva to set me up on those ridiculous dates was to prove to myself that what I was feeling wasn't the result of suddenly living with an unattached witch after spending so much time in seclusion. There was absolutely no contest. You are more than a man such as I has any right to ask for in a woman. And I don't say that out of some misplaced sense of self deprecation or because I don't think I deserve to be happy. I mean it, knowing full well my own worth and what I can provide a partner.
"I am not blind to your faults, nor am I ignorant of the hurdles we would have to overcome in order to make any deeper relationship between us work. It is too soon for commitments, but we have such an unconventional situation that I cannot attempt to court you as I would. And maybe that is for the best, after all. I am not a young man. I know what I want, and feel no need to play games or second guess myself. My only reason left for hesitation has been my uncertainty of your reception. I have no desire to make you uncomfortable in our home or push you into something you might not want or be ready for."
"What exactly do you want?" Hermione knew it was unfair to ask him to spell out his desires so plainly when she hadn't given him any real declaration of her feelings.
"I want you," he said simply. "I want to have a real relationship with you, with the end goal of making the three of us a real family." It was too soon, far too soon to even be thinking the words, let alone be expressing them out loud to Hermione, but they were said and there was no taking them back. All he could do was hope against hope, and wait for her response.
Hermione looked down at the little boy sleeping in her arms, reminding herself that every decision she made would affect his life. And so she couldn't make a single decision without his best interest foremost in her mind. Even one that she wanted to make based on her feelings alone. She hadn't been stretching the truth when she said that Atticus adored Severus. He did. And Hermione had no doubt that Severus would make for a fantastic father figure as Atticus grew up. In time, he would easily become the father that her son had never had. He was young enough that he wouldn't remember life before Severus had been in it.
In addition, on a more practical level, Severus could indeed provide for them. His home was large, big enough for a growing boy and perhaps even a growing family. The stability that Severus could give her son was nothing to be scoffed at. Atticus would want for nothing.
With all those things being said, Hermione would not accept Severus as a partner simply because of her son. It wouldn't be fair to either of them, and eventually, Atticus would resent them both for it. Severus deserved a woman who loved him unconditionally, who stayed by his side because it was where she wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world. Could Hermione be that woman?
Her reckless heart whispered yes. But she'd been led astray by it once before. The truth was that she wasn't ready to pledge herself to the man yet. Yes, she was half in love with him. Yes, she was attracted to him, respected him, cared for him deeply. He had made a place for her in his home and in his heart, and she knew that no matter what else happened between them, she would never stop being grateful for his presence in her life. The fact that he wanted her, a single mother with self esteem problems and more baggage than a socialite on a summer holiday, went a long way to making her tempted to throw herself at his feet and beg him to make her his unequivocally. But then, that was half the problem, wasn't it?
She was still battling the demons Phillipe had left her with. Still fighting to reclaim the independent, confident woman she'd been before he'd reduced her to all her most basic fears. The real question she had to ask herself, was if she trusted Severus to be able to weather the storm with her, to help her rebuild herself into a person she could be proud of. And whether she trusted herself not to lose the little of her sense of self she'd managed to scrape together. Severus was a powerful, potent man. It would be so easy to give him everything she was and keep nothing for herself. No pride, no individuality, no dignity.
It took little thought to realize that she did, indeed, trust Severus to keep her whole while he claimed her. He would give everything within his power to protect her, even from herself.
So it all came down to one thing. Could she trust herself? And the answer was that she wasn't one hundred percent sure. Her confidence had never fully recovered, and she couldn't be certain that it ever would. So where did that leave her?
"The one thing I want you to know, first, is that I care about you. More than as an employer, more than a friend. I want you, in ever sense of the word, and Atty and I would be lucky to have you in our lives permanently. But I need you to understand that I can't trust myself to dive into another serious relationship with no holds barred. It would be so easy for me to let myself get lost. To depend on you completely and never get back the person I used to be.
"I'm not sure where that leaves us, though. There is such a huge part of me that wants to grab onto the idea of more, of everything like a lifeline, and I half hate myself for holding back. But it wouldn't be fair to you or to me if I-"
"I'm not asking you for everything, yet," Severus said softly. He picked up Hermione's hand, emboldened by her admission of her feelings. She wanted him. In every sense of the word, she'd said. That meant there was hope. "I want the opportunity to get to know you more, to help you rebuild your life. I want the privilege of getting to touch you, hold you, tell you how I feel, any time I want. But I won't rush you, and I won't let you get lost along the way. Don't you see? What I love about you is your fire, your spirit. I would do anything in my power to nurture those things." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. As he watched, her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted.
Oh, how he wanted to taste her there. To gather her into his arms and plunder her mouth, to delve into every recess of her body and taste the sweetness of her secrets. But that would have to wait. For now, it was enough to cradle her hand in his own and continue to press kisses to it, one on the tip of each finger, one on her knuckles, and then cup her palm over his cheek and lean into her touch.
Atticus let out a low snore, and despite the inconvenience of being interrupted, they both smiled indulgently.
"I should get him up to bed now," Hermione admitted. The arm that she had under him had long since gone numb. She was happy to hold him all night, but knew he preferred to roll around in his own bed. Already, his hair was damp with sweat from being pressed so close to her body heat. Severus nodded and rose, offering her his arm to help her up. She staggered for a moment, the stress of the day and the weight of her son hitting her all at once. "Remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea not to take him up the two flights of stairs while I still had some stamina?" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Do you trust me?"
She smiled up at him, not a single trace of doubt inside her. "Completely."
"Hold onto me, then," he requested. She wrapped her free arm around him. Severus took a breath, fingered his wand with his free hand for extra focus, and then stepped sideways following the ever so slight tug behind his navel. They slipped into the attic sitting room with a muted thud. Hermione looked around, then up at him in wonder.
"You can side-along two people that smoothly?"
He smirked. "I meant it when I said that it would be no trouble to side-along Atticus."
"Just how many can you do?"
"Three is rather jolting. I could probably manage four in an emergency, but I couldn't guarantee everyone would arrive with all ten fingers and toes." He raised one shoulder casually, as if he wasn't talking about extraordinary feats of magic. Hermione shook her head at him. He was so cavalier, so unassuming with his power. It was an incredibly refreshing change from what she was used to.
"You continually amaze me, you know that?" Atticus shifted in her arms and she turned to his bedroom. "If you'll just wait a moment, I'll lay him down and then I can say goodnight."
Severus nodded, watching her disappear into the other room. She could just as easily have bid him goodnight while Atticus was still in her arms. Instead, she'd asked him to wait. She wanted more than a perfunctory farewell with her hands full. A thrill shot through him but he smothered it. She had just admitted to him that she was afraid of giving too much of herself too fast and repeating the mistakes she'd made before. She was counting on him to help her not to. He'd given her his word and he would damn well keep it.
Even if it meant he would be taking cold showers before bed for Merlin knew how long.
When she returned, she ran her hand through her hair nervously and bit her lip. He didn't move towards her, letting her make the decision, set the pace, so she smiled and stepped close to him.
"Thank you for everything," she murmured, resting her hands against his chest lightly.
"It was my pleasure, Hermione," he replied, lifting her chin with one knuckle. Instead of kissing her lips as he longed to, though, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. It was a hedonistic delight to hold her for no other reason than that he wanted to and he could. She felt small and feminine in his arms, but so unbelievably strong. Her head fit perfectly tucked beneath his chin and she leaned into the embrace. There wasn't anything more he would have asked for in that moment. Feeling her there against him, accepting his embrace and returning it, their hearts beating in tandem, was the culmination of everything he'd been looking for in his life.
And there was so much more yet to come.
He wanted to hold her until he'd had his fill, but quickly realized that he would never have his fill of her, never tire of having her in his arms, and forced himself to let her go. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said softly, pressing one more kiss to her forehead.
"Goodnight, Severus." She trailed her fingers down his arm, keeping them connected until the last possible moment when he slipped out the door and out of sight.
