A/N: My apologies but the beginning is a short post I missed publishing here. If you have not read the beginning then I invite you to do so. ~etherian

I Trust You

Hermione hated weeping but the tears were of their own mind. Of course, the ache in her heart did not help. Yet, she was angry. Horribly and terribly angry…

Linen, freshly laundered by hand…

Cut grass just as the season wakened…

The soothing, sensual bite of vetiver…

With the heavy, muted rustle of wool those scents swirled around Hermione to comfort. With them came a strong arm about her shoulders, and a calloused hand stained by decades of potions carding through her curls.

The Potions Master's voice was a tumbling purr in his chest that caressed her cheek where her tears fell. Her ears heard the words of solace, and so she sank deeper into the arms that held her, supported her.

Severus had found her. She and Rose had missed lunch. Her jumbling thoughts suggested she ought to apologise, but anger rose up from the depths of her heart shoving everything else aside.

He hated her! Ron! He had been her best friend. They had fought side by side, and buried their friends together. Hermione had loved him… she was sure she had. That love, though, had faded with the memories of her childhood.

"There hasn't been a Squib in my family for three centuries, 'Mione!"

"That ugly git bastard is no one's friend, Mione, and I forbid you from visiting him! What will our neighbours say?"

"How long have you been visiting that bloody git behind my back, you whore? The Squib's his, isn't she?"

With rage the inferno in her belly rumbled and Hermione blurted what the neighbours and she knew, RON.

Severus' cool hands cupped her face, fanning the rage down to a low simmer. When the Mother's Day book from her children reminded her it was still in her hand, tears began to trickle down her cheeks again.

Severus swore to make right her loss. In that brief moment had this wizard, this once Death Eater, vowed to kill Ron Weasley, Hermione would not have stopped him. For that she hated Ron. For turning her into a monster she wanted him to hurt as much as he had hurt her.

Tears, the loss, the pain from so many years, along with her anger, flooded Hermione's senses. She arose at his behest and walked beside the wizard of soothing shadow. Severus would handle it.

Apparation tugged nauseatingly at her belly. As her arms wrapped snugly around the wizard's waist Hermione leaned her cheek against her sweet Rose nestled in Severus' arms.

Severus would handle Ron. In this blink of time Hermione did not care one whit what that might encompass. She trusted him.

Author: etherian

Home.

It was a comforting word for Severus. He had only ever known two places he could apply this term to; Hogwarts and Spinner's End.

The first had ceased to feel like home after his abhorrent tenure as Headmaster during the second wizarding war. Though he had come back to teach after the defeat of The Dark Lord, by then the damage had been done. Too many ghosts from the past lingered like the scent of sulfur in every corridor and classroom. Hogwarts felt more like a glass prison rather than a home. Memories plagued him at every turn along with the haunted stares from pupils and staff, old and new alike. It was very evident, that people were uncomfortable around him. Even though he had been cleared of all charges made against him during the war, the general public was not as forgiving. It was an unspoken sentiment at Hogwarts that the Potions Master was clearly unwanted, and most felt ill at ease with his presence looming around the castle. Eventually, it had become too much for Severus to endure, and with Lucius' encouragement, he had retired to Spinner's End to try and heal his shattered life with the balm that only time and peace would allow.

As he Apparated with Hermione and Rose into the sitting room of his home in Cokeworth, he felt an almost instant relief in being around familiar surroundings again. He had spent much of his time in the two years since his retirement, turning his former childhood home into a place he could finally call his own and feel comfortable in. No real remnants remained of the bitter and tumultuous atmosphere that Severus had grown up in, replaced instead by furnishings and personal touches that evoked a different side to the Potions Master. It spoke of Severus Snape the man, not the spy or Death Eater most people assumed. Sadly, it was a side very few people saw. Aside from Harry, Lucius, Draco and occasionally Minerva, or Arsenius, nobody intentionally sought out his company, and in many ways, he was grateful for the peace.

That however had changed when Hermione had re-entered his life last year. She had deliberately sought him out through correspondence. Initially, it was to merely ask for advice on some research she was doing for work, but as time wore on, their letters began to progress to more personal conversation about their lives. When letters became too tiresome to trouble with, he started to invite her for tea on occasion, and without either realising it, this simple gesture planted the tentative seeds of friendship that would later bloom into something more.

Six months after her first letter, she had become a frequent visitor to Spinner's End often bringing some new book or intriguing tea she thought he might like. Though he always made it a point to put up an irritated air around her, he knew that deep down; he looked forward to her visits more than he should have. Her very presence at Spinner's End was becoming far too comfortable for his liking, and every impulse in his mind fought to try and push her away, and yet, he could not find it in himself to do so. He found his home lonelier without the sound of her voice, and was often disappointed when her job at the Ministry, or personal problems kept her away from their weekly visits.

For once in his life he found it refreshing to be able to converse with someone of a like mind who enjoyed similar pursuits and thrived in discussions as he did. He had never encountered anyone like Hermione who could openly challenge him with confidence, and though he enjoyed her company, it also made him face the extremely painful realisation of just how lonely an existence he actually led.

It was probably for this reason he did not offer much resistance when Lucius had first suggested that the two of them should team up and go into business together. It made a great deal of sense in Severus' opinion. Hermione had the brains and patience for conducting the business side to their venture of which he had no tolerance for, especially when dealing with a hateful public. This would leave him free to pursue his dream of research and brewing professionally, thus allowing him to finally use the Masters he had earned so many years ago in his youth. Their individual fortes made for a well balanced partnership, and throwing caution to the wind, he had decided to take the plunge, investing most of his life savings into the venture. It seemed like a perfect and well calculated risk, or so he had thought.

Severus had never expected the problems that would later plague Hermione's life. It had filtered into their fledgling business and spilled over into his own personal life, but there was no way around it. She was his friend, and that would come before anything else. Although his savings was dwindling, he still had roughly a year to go before he would be completely drained. He knew if necessary however, he had rare personal effects and books he could sell, but he hoped it would not come down to that. He would never borrow from anyone, not even Lucius whom he knew would be more than willing, however his stubbornness and pride would never allow it. He may not have much in his life, but he still had his dignity, and he clung to it.

If he could eviscerate Weasley and help Hermione and her daughter get back on their feet, perhaps then they could start to lay down the foundations of their business, but until Hermione was cared for, it was not even a question in his mind. He had cancelled the symposium in Vienna right after she and Rose had left his home earlier in the morning. He knew she would be in no condition to go, especially after what had just transpired with Weasley severing all ties to their daughter. He had an inkling that things would only get worse, and as it usually did; his instincts had served him well.

As Severus made his way up the stairs to the guestroom with the small redhead clinging to him with trust even in sleep, he knew the only concerns in his mind right now were the well beings of the sleeping child in his arms and the troubled young woman lying on the sofa in his sitting room. Nothing else mattered.

Well, aside from helping Weasley to meet his creator. But like all things in life, that would come in due time.

He entered the guestroom that had formerly been his childhood bedroom and silently thanked Merlin this had been one of the first rooms he had chosen to renovate. Gone were the chipped and peeling walls, dingy rotting floorboards, and metal infirmary style bed. Instead, Severus had chosen to make the room reminiscent of what he had wished for growing up.

The walls were covered in a Tussah silk wallpaper in an oyster color that reminded him of the weathered beach houses he had seen on some of his recent travels. It was light and airy and made up for the dreary clouds that always hung over Cokeworth. The floors were a simple polished pine with two thick crème and coffee colored rugs covering it. One was by the stone fireplace, and the other by the side of the elegantly carved four poster bed that took up the left side of the room. Draco, who had taken a fancy to carving wands for Ollivander while apprenticing with the wandmaker, had used his skills to craft many of the furnishings that now resided in Spinner's End. The bed was a testament to his godson's fine talent. The head and footboards were etched with Elven vines of ivy that trailed its way up the four posters and ended with an intricately carved pinecone. It was beautiful, and Severus had been touched that Draco had taken the time to do such work for him.

The walls by the fireplace were completely ensconced with books from floor to ceiling, and beside it was a crème colored settee on which draped the old quilt his mother had made for him long ago. It was the same one he had covered Rose with the previous night.

Summoning the patched quilt, he gently pulled back the eggshell colored eiderdown on the bed and laid the sleeping child onto the feather mattress. He removed her shoes and socks before tucking the old quilt around her along with the singed bunny she had been holding onto like a lifeline. He resisted the urge to take the fabric bunny and cast a cleansing charm on it, knowing it would probably awaken her. To be honest, the last thing he needed on his hands was a crying child, especially when Hermione was still unstable and in shock.

He pulled the thick eiderdown over the girl, quilt and bunny before lifting a pale hand to smooth back the soft strawberry curls that had fallen over her face.

Anger unlike he had ever known seared through his chest when he thought about what an ungrateful bastard Ronald Weasley was. He had everything Severus had ever longed for; a loving wife to share his life with and a beautiful healthy child. He could not believe Molly Weasley's son, whom he knew had family values instilled into him from the cradle, was just throwing it away because of juvenile stupidity and bias. He had never deserved a witch such as Hermione, and Severus never understood what she saw in Weasley to begin with, but then again it was not his place to say as such. It had never been any of his business.

Until now.

"My home may not be much, but it is yours as long as you and your mother need it. I will keep you both safe, I swear it."

He did not know why he said the words to the sleeping child. He knew she could not hear them, but he still felt he owed her some kind of reassurance. He knew only too well what it was like to be floundering in the confusion of two warring parents. What the child needed most was to feel safe and reassured. He was not her father or even a distant relative, and his pitiful examples of parenting did not give him much experience, but he would do what he could until Hermione was capable.

Giving her covers one last tuck; he strode to the fireplace, and pulled out his wand. With a flick of his wrist a crackling blaze filled the hearth, spreading its glow and warmth throughout the room. With a final flick toward the large plate glass window by the bed, the sheer ecru drapes shut with a soft swish.

Tucking his wand back into his sleeve, he gave the child one last glance, before opening the door and silently leaving the room.

Rose opened her eyes and stared at the closed door where seconds ago the tall dark wizard had been.

"Daddy is a liar," she quietly told the singed bunny in her arms. "He is a good man, its daddy who's bad….or maybe it's me that's bad. Mummy won't tell me, but I can hear. I know it's 'cause I can't do the things mummy and daddy can do. That's why daddy hates me. I'm not like them, and never will be."

Tears streamed down her face, as she pulled the Professor's quilt more tightly around her. Somehow, even Babbity wasn't making the pain go away anymore.

Severus tiredly ran a hand through his lank hair as he made his way down the stairs. It was only in the past year, that a few silver strands had started to creep into his ebony locks. He saw no sense in trying to charm them back. First, he didn't care since his looks were of no consequence to him or anyone else, and second, he had a feeling he would have more than just a few strands before the year was done.

Reaching the landing, he summoned two glasses and the bottle of Firewhiskey Lucius had given him upon his retirement, and made his way to the stiff figure lying on the sofa.

Hermione was lying curled on her side, the Mother's Day book still clutched in her trembling hands. She was staring silently into the fire without seeing it, her mind miles away. She didn't even notice when Severus sat beside her until she was startled to feel warm hands cup her own and place a glass inside of them She sat up and turned to look into his dark grey eyes. Her heart ached when she saw the unguarded warmth and concern in them.

When had Ron ever looked at her like that? Even in their closest moments, there wasn't much warmth in his eyes. What a fool she'd been. A young, stupid fool of a girl….

She lowered her eyes to the drink in her hand.

"I don't like whiskey much," she said more to herself than to the man beside her.

"Actually, I am not that fond of it myself preferring red wines, but it is all I have at the present moment, and you need something to calm your nerves as well as to give you warmth. It is only a finger's worth, not much, but it will help you to relax," he said tiredly as he took a sip from his own glass and leaned back against the worn sofa, closing his eyes.

Hermione took a sip and scrunched her eyes at the bitterness that filled her senses.

"How is Rosie?" She asked as the stinging in her chest gave way to the warmth that seemed to melt into her bones. She leaned back and took another tentative sip.

"As good as can be expected under the circumstances, although I would not go by that alone considering she has not spoken yet. Your daughter is a very intelligent child Hermione. I doubt there is much you can hide from her." He took another sip from his drink before continuing. "She is sleeping at the present moment, or so I believe her to be. Whether she is or not, I do not recommend disturbing her until morning. Just like everyone else, she needs a chance to rest and think. Besides, you will be better prepared to handle her when you have had some proper sleep yourself."

Hermione lifted her fallow eyes to the man beside her and was thankful she had followed her instinct over a year ago, and re-established contact with the former Professor. Ron had been irate and against it from the start and it drove the wedge that was already between them even wider. He had never liked Severus, but it was something she knew she needed to do, even if she could not explain why. At first it had been all formality and protocol, but as their friendship grew, she started to cling to it like a ray of light in her darkened universe.

Severus Snape had always been a prominent figure in her mind, even in her school days. She had never met anyone that matched his intellect and brilliance and it was something she greatly admired. The discovery of his loyalties and sacrifices after the war ended, only raised his status in her eyes. He was a good man and she detested that most people around her still refused to see that. She didn't know where she or Rose would be today if it were not for the wizard that most people said, did not possess a beating heart.

As she finished her drink, her gaze traveled up his form and was surprised at how much younger he looked when he was relaxed. His dark hair fell softly against his cheeks and pooled at his shoulders, a few faint strands of silver, glimmering in the firelight. She felt her breath catch when he parted his lips to moisten them with a brush of his tongue, before he turned his head and opened his eyes. His obsidian gaze met her own, and for a heartbeat, neither took a breath.

Her eyes widened when she realised his eyes were not the black pools everyone claimed them to be, but were in fact grey, a deep, dark charcoal grey that smoldered in the blaze of the firelight. Her breath stopped completely as she felt herself falling into the depths of those charcoal eyes.

Hermione had heard many people talk about instances in their lives where the world stopped and everything came to a standstill, but she had never understood exactly what that meant until this very moment.

Perhaps it was the small amount of alcohol running through their systems, or maybe it was the entire weight of the day that had finally caught up with them, but whatever it was, neither seemed willing to break the connection of the moment by turning away from the other.

Almost without realising it, Severus lifted his hand and ran a calloused thumb softly over her bottom lip, making her close her eyes with a contented sigh.

He took a shuddering breath and stretched his fingers, tracing her delicate cheekbone with the pads of his fingertips before cupping her face. She gently placed her hand over his and leaned into his touch.

"Severus," she whispered, savoring each syllable as it passed through her lips like a fine wine.

Hearing his given name instantly brought him back to reality and he sharply pulled his hand away, as if burned. Vanishing the drinks wandlessly, he stood up and turned away from her, his shoulders stiff.

Hermione was so stunned by the sudden change in his demeanor she flinched unconsciously.

"Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean," she stammered unsure of what had just transpired between them.

Severus seemed to be collecting himself before turning to face her. When he did, the warmth was gone from his eyes replaced by the blank and unreadable expression of disinterest that he usually wore. Her heart sank in response.

"Hermione, it is I who is sorry. I should not have taken advantage of you in that way."

Hermione stared at him numbly.

"Severus you didn't do anything. Please, I just.."

"Enough," he said cutting her off. Pinching the bridge of his nose he walked to the hearth and stood in front of the flames, his back to her.

"Hermione, it has been a long day, especially for you. We all need to get some rest. It is difficult for most people to think clearly when their heads are clouded with alcohol and turmoil. I have prepared my room for you. I will be sleeping down here. We will talk more in the morning."

Hermione stood, her body trembling over what had just occurred. She felt frustrated and confused. Perhaps he was right, and all they needed was some sleep to help clear their minds.

"Severus I can't take your room. You've already done so much for Rose and me. I can sleep down here. I know how to transfigure a sofa."

"Hermione, this is my home, and as such, I will ask you to respect my wishes. I will not allow you or your daughter to sleep without a proper bed. Last night was an unusual occurrence, but since you will be here far longer now, I will be taking the sofa until we can arrange for something better. Am I understood?" Even though he still had his back to her, Hermione heard the steel in his voice and knew it was pointless to argue.

"Very well," she said, lowering her head. She was too tired to argue. "I know you don't want to hear this Severus, but…thank you."

With a resigned sigh, she turned toward the stairs and was halfway up when she heard his voice. It was softer now, but there was an edge of darkness to it that made her shiver.

"Weasley will never hurt you or Rose again. I swear this Hermione. Get some sleep; we will speak more in the morning. Good night."

Hermione could only nod in response before continuing up the stairs. She made her way to the guestroom before retiring to Severus' so she could check on her daughter.

Rose had obviously cried herself to sleep. Her pillow was streaked with tears and her thumb was in her mouth. Hermione knew Rose only sucked her thumb when she was deeply insecure, and only in her sleep. It was a habit she had been forever trying to break the young girl of, but she knew under the circumstances they were in, now would not be the right time.

As she leaned over to kiss her daughter, she noticed Rose was clutching the quilt Severus' mother, Eileen had made for him. Severus never allowed anyone to touch that quilt, as it was one of the last few items he retained from his childhood that held any good memory for him. She had been shocked the morning she found her daughter and the Potions Master asleep on the old wingback chair, both covered with the very same quilt. She considered later that since he had been there with her, he knew no harm would come to it, so it had been alright. Seeing her daughter using it now without Severus present, spoke volumes about a man most people considered had a heart of pure granite.

Pulling the quilt tighter around her daughter, she kissed her one last time, and left the room heading for the door she knew to belong to the Potions Master.

Even though her heart and mind were raging with a turbulent stream of emotions, there was one feeling that stood out above everything else. It was something she had not felt since leaving Hogwarts over a decade ago.

As she stepped into the Severus' bedroom and shut the door, she leaned against the heavy mahogany and closed her eyes, savoring the forgotten feeling once again.

She felt safe.

Author: Master Severus Snape