AN:

Please be advised, this chapter contains discussion of depression, drug use, and overdose.


Chapter Eighty: Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine

Severus lay partially propped up against the disarray of pillows with his arm tucked behind his head while Hermione was treading between wakefulness and sleep. He lazily combed back her defiant, tangled waves as they continued to fall forward over her face and creep across his chest. The night prior they had been able to sleep together without incident but the events of that afternoon had taken up a prominent residence in his mind and prevented him from falling into the half slumber with her. With her thick hair temporarily forced into submission by her ear, he brushed his fingers along her throat, creeping them over to where he had tried to choke the life from her. Just as they reached the hollow of her throat, he abruptly pulled them back and resumed petting and finger combing her hair.

He had known the explanation about certain aspects of his past would be unavoidable upon her return, after all, the scars that littered his body couldn't be ignored. However, he had foolishly hoped that the rest of it would be able to remain locked away and buried deep in the ocean of his mind and that he would never again have to give voice to his shame and weakness. It had been embarrassing enough that Minerva, Cissy, and Lupin had witnessed and lived through those dark, dissolute days with him when he could barely function. The idea of Hermione ever knowing just how bad things had been in the first years after the Dark Lord's original downfall though, made his old shame and weakness bloom anew.

The first weeks and months after she had left had been long and dark, and looking back on it he now knew that was when his mental health had initially begun to deteriorate. Instead of dealing with her return to the future, he had buried himself in work, taking every curse breaking job that was offered and brewing every potion request that was delivered to him. He donned his occlusion like a second skin and wore it near every minute of every day, using it to mask his pain and give his life the appearance of being put together. The war and his role as a spy for both sides had also gone a long way in keeping him busy, both masters happily running him ragged with their individual tasks and needs. Everything had been done in the name of pretending that he was okay and unaffected, even though beneath it all a gaping, throbbing hole had been left inside of him, making him all too aware of the fact that he had essentially become a widower.

Severus's life after she had left hadn't been ideal but he had remained functioning, even if he had been obsessive in his behaviors and rituals, rigorously monitoring his time with her letters, memories, and photographs. It was after the fall of the Dark Lord, his time spent as Moody's unwilling guest in the bowels of the Ministry, and his subsequently lengthy recovery that things had taken a turn for the worse in regards to his fragile mental health. That was the period of time he had hoped to never share with Hermione, wishing that when she came back to him that the sleeping dogs of his past would remain where they lay. However, his unconscious assault of her the day before and Tippy's slipped comment about him only being okay now, had popped the impossible bubble of hope he had kept, rather quickly.

He continued to pet the waves of her hair, gently pulling his fingers through the knots they had created earlier, allowing the action to keep her in her easy slumber. Severus simultaneously drew his own comfort from the hypnotizing action while he thought over the last seventeen years and began to prioritize past events she needed to be aware of, along with sorting out the things that were going on now and which of those were the most pressing to address and iron out before their return to Hogwarts in two days. Talking about his crippling depression and making plans and contingencies for the second war had not been how he envisioned spending the first days after his wife's return. Every fantasy he had dreamed up about her return though, paled in comparison to finally feeling the weight of her asleep on him again, her soft body curled along his, and the tickle of her untamable hair as it swept across his skin.

Feeling Hermione begin to stir along his side, Severus crunched the muscles in his side to press his lips to the mass of matted hair atop her head, before sliding a pillow under her to take the place of his chest. Rolling out of the bed, he crossed through the opening that connected their room to the shared closet that Narcissa had run rampant in laying out and organizing. Built-in dressers ran parallel to each other with open shelving on one side of each and staggered rods for hanging clothes on the other. The center of the closet had a patterned tufted bench that sat directly beneath the large skylight, while the far corners had been shaped into alcoves. The right one had a panel of three mirrors on the walls, while the left displayed Hermione's wedding dress, along with two blown-up photos that showed their cores binding together from each of their perspectives on a short loop.

Crossing through the second opening, he walked into the much enlarged master bath. Along the left wall of the bathroom, there was a double vanity painted in a dusty powder blue, broken up by a drop in counter height for a seated vanity. Three massive mercury framed mirrors commanded the wall space above, the frosted floor to ceiling windows with panes painted to match reflecting back doubling the natural light during the day. Between the windows, a large casing had been cut out for the shower. Each corner had a half circle marble bench built-in, with recessed shelves above it. Hanging from the ceiling was a wide, circular, rainfall showerhead, while the walls opposite each other had jets and steamers at various heights, and the back wall had two detachable showerheads. In front of the open shower, he had added a marble pony wall to divide the space and provide plumbing for the custom made, enameled cast iron, clawfoot tub.

As it was when he had remodeled Spinner's End, the tub was one of the few things he had selected himself instead of sending Cissy. His tall frame made it difficult to find something that didn't require his knees to stick out so he could fit and the added desire for it to accommodate two people with ease made the task even harder. Not bothering with any shops after the first was found to be lacking, he had contacted a welder to create exactly what he wanted, supplying them with the antique Baroque feet he wanted to adorn it. The order resulted in a tub that was twice the standard width and double the standard depth, and took a good twenty minutes to fill.

Reaching across the monstrosity, he turned the faucets and set the temperature, letting it begin the lengthy process of filling up. Pulling things from the glass canisters that were displayed on the small wall, he tossed in several scoops of colored soaking salts, a healthy dose of lavender and eucalyptus oils to help relieve the stiffness in his knee without the need for another dose of his arthritis potion, along with a handful of their dried sprigs from the garden for good measure.

Coming back to the bedroom to collect his witch, he found their rumpled and abused, but thankfully sturdy bed empty. Checking for her on the balcony and finding it empty, Severus made his way to the sitting room.

She would find her way to the books, he thought, casually leaning against the wall to watch her.

Hermione had twisted her hair up off her neck and held it in its off center placing with her wand, defiant tendrils already falling free. She had taken his henley from the floor to wear the too long sleeves pushed up on her forearms to expose her hands. As she bent over to pluck a title from a lower shelf, he got a tempting peek at the curve of her cheeks as the shirt rode up on her.

"Well I was drawing us a bath, but if you're going to tease me like that, I may as well just take you back to bed," he said silkily.

He heard a short laugh come from her as she stood up to look at him over her shoulder, her eyebrow cocked in a dare.

"Why take me to the bed? That couch looks like it'll do just fine. I'm sure those two chairs would be up to the task as well. Not to mention there is still the balcony," she taunted while placing the book on the low coffee table for later.

Her eyes briefly shined at him before her pupils dilated and they turned molten as she sauntered up to him. Her soft and small palms glided up his chest, curling around his shoulders as she began seeking out and kissing each scar she found between her words, "So many places to christen and so few hours."

"Salazar angel, you're going to turn me into a dried out husk or send me into cardiac arrest," he groaned, as her tongue traced over a section of tissue that had been burned and ill-healed leaving it puckered and tight.

"You seem to be keeping up quite well and doing your own fair share of instigating," she pointed out as her hands began to push the waistband of his denims down.

Knowing he didn't want to get into his past with anyone else in the house, Severus sucked in a breath as he steeled himself in his decision to halt her arousing advances. Grabbing her wrists, he gently removed her hands from his hips and took half a step back, looking down at her as her hooded eyes cleared and she looked up at him in silent question.

Releasing one hand, he laced his fingers through her other and led her to the bathroom. Kissing her forehead, he pulled his shirt off of her, and as she stepped over and into the tub, he removed his denims. Getting in behind her, he reached up for the soft natural sponge along the wall, and began wetting her shoulders and the top of her chest.

"Severus is everything alright?" She asked in quiet concern, her fingers kneading the outer muscles of his thighs.

He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck in a silent prayer asking for her to both understand and not change her opinion of him upon finding out just how dark and shameful the early years without her had been.

Releasing the sponge to drift atop the water, he wrapped his arms around her and brought her back to recline with him as he leaned against the wall of the tub saying, "It is now… but before… not so much."

Hermione turned her head so that her cheek rested against him and peered back into his eyes. "Are you talking about these?" She questioned quietly, her hand reaching around to run her fingers up the one scar that couldn't be covered by clothes.

The thin glistening white scar started at his collarbone and wrapped up his neck, disappearing behind his ear into his hairline. It came from one of the first and therefore more methodical attempts at extracting information and confession from him. Moody had meticulously sliced his wand through his dermis to expose the length of his neck muscle, leaving his sensory and motor nerves vulnerable to the short shockwaves of the auror's wand. Being early on in the interrogation it had been made with great care and as such had healed rather well under Poppy's wand. The more gruesome and disfiguring scars had come later when patience had run out.

"That's a part of it," he answered evasively.

Tapping his fingers along where he held her in place against him, he collected his thoughts and pondered how best to start telling her something he would rather she never know about.

"Things were difficult after you left but I handled it in much the same way I coped with anything else back then, I put it aside and only allowed myself to think on it in short amounts of time, all the while allowing any and every distraction to consume my conscious thoughts," he started, his voice strained and almost choking as if it was fighting the release of his words.

Hermione's intuitive side blessedly came out and she broke his eye contact and turned her head so the back of it was resting against him once more. She glided her hands through the water slowly rubbing his thighs in easy strokes, as she patiently waited in silence for him to continue.

Any other time he could lose himself in her gaze, studying the various colors of her irises and the way the combination of browns, greens, and ambers shifted with her emotions and the light changes around her. However, not having her keen eyes trained on him while he spoke, made the tight hold around his throat loosen just enough, to make his words come a little easier.

Thank you, he thought, with a soft caress along the edge of her mind.

A quiet noise of content echoed in his mind, followed by a barely whispered, Take your time.

Closing his eyes to further distance himself from his words, Severus started again, "Until the initial fall of the Dark Lord, things were hard and difficult and I found everything around me to be suffocating, working to smoother the life out of me, one day at a time. I spent more time occluding than I did keeping an open mind and I obsessively controlled every aspect of my life. I lived for routine and for burying myself in my job, all my jobs, and heavily restricted myself with how often I could read your letters and watch your memories and relive my own.

"It was an exceedingly unhealthy practice but I didn't care because I was not only able to function each day but I was thriving in all other areas of my life. I lived within a perfectly crafted illusion of having my shite together. In reality, your fading and later absent scent, your untouched things, and the loss of your presence and of our bond, had all come together to begin killing me inside, carving everything out of me one day at a time till I was left feeling nothing at all."

He cut himself off, taking a hard swallow and reaching back for the sponge so he could occupy his hands by continuing to bathe her. He tapped her shoulder, getting her to sit up in the tub while he poured the orchid and coconut gel across the sponge. Lathering up the soap, he bent his knees around her and began to sweep the sudsy sponge across her shoulder blades, dragging it down her back in a languid zigzag.

Finishing with her back, Severus began to work the soap down each of her arms, continuing his story, "The second Halloween after you left, the Dark Lord tried to kill Potter and failed, Moody went against Dumbledore's orders and took me, and all of that happened, and after that is when I truly began to spiral.

"It took Poppy and Cissy, with the assistance of Minerva, days to heal and repair all the damage. After that, I spent weeks in the infirmary recovering enough so that I could begin physical therapy to train my newly grown muscles and motor skills. I spent most of my extended stay in the hospital wing, blissed out on pain potions, and honestly, it was great.

"I didn't have to worry about occluding or keeping a rigorous schedule or maintaining control over how long I spent with the memory of you. I was in a haze of euphoria round the clock and it was wonderful. The pain of our severed bond and the longing for you was gone. The insidious paranoia and anxiety disappeared and I was no longer waking in the middle of the night thinking I was still in that dank chamber. It was so tempting and I was weak and desperate so I fell for it…"

Severus felt Hermione stiffen between his legs as she registered his words and correctly guessed the direction his story was headed in. At his unintelligible sound of confirmation, her hands stopped their gentle caress of him as she spoke for the first time since allowing him the space to talk at his own pace, saying only his name in a cracked and broken voice.

"I'm sure you can understand why I had hoped that this story of my past could remain untold," he said flatly.

Leaning her body back against him he started to work on washing her front, forging ahead with airing his shame with a surprising detachment.

"I was discharged from Poppy's care mid-December and began the physical therapy routine Cissy had gone over with me, making great strides in developing my muscles and building a bit more mass than I previously had, all thanks to those little vials of olive green potion. They allowed me to push through any physical pain and kept the emotional pain at bay, unbeknownst to any of the three mother hens who would regularly check up on me.

"Having my Mastery and an active Class Seven Brewing License, it was too easy to keep myself well supplied. The thing about abusing pain potions though is after a while I began to build up a tolerance. My escape was no longer coming as easily and so I began to take more, which further built my tolerance. I wasn't even aware of it as I went from only allowing myself one vial a day to two and from there three and by the end, it was six or seven in a twenty-four hour span. That false sense of happiness got further and further from being within my grasp and the comedown became worse and worse, prompting me to use even more so that I could avoid that hell."

Hermione's hands had not resumed their gentle stroking of his thighs while he spoke. Instead, the tips of her fingers and nails pressed and dug into his skin and muscle in a vice grip. Her body had gone rigid as she listened to him, the occasional sniffle sounding though she tried to fight the noise, and the water around her had a continuous stream of soft ripples though she didn't move, the motion coming from where her tears fell down her cheeks and into the tub.

Should I stop, angel?

No…

Severus nodded his head, though she couldn't see him, kissing the edge of each of her shoulders. The action had her fingers release a bit of their hold on him and made her steel spine melt a fraction. He repeated the series of kisses over and over till she became pliant against him once more, turning to her side in the water to wrap her arms around him and curl up between his legs, her lips occasionally brushing along his chest.

"How did you…"

"Overcome it and go into recovery?"

Hermione gave a small nod against him, her arms tightening around him even more as if she could suck the pain of the past right out of him if she just squeezed hard enough.

"That might be the worst part of it all, it's an embarrassment and a blow to my pride I will never fully live down. Although the possibility of having never gotten to see you again, had it not been for Lupin, because I had been such a weak fool who was becoming a reincarnation of my father, is something that haunts me at night nearly as much as the night you were taken.

"I was supposed to meet Remus at The Three Broomsticks so I could deliver his wolfsbane for the December cycle in '82. I was already behind schedule in brewing it, so I took an eighth dose to stay off the comedown and allow myself to finish the brew for him, and still make it to our meeting on time.

"When I was measuring out the doses, I broke out into a cold sweat despite the clawing humidity from brewing in the lab. Things started to get hazy and it was hard for me to remain focused on what I was doing. I started puking into the cauldron and the next thing I knew I was back in that blasted infirmary, with Cissy crying into the sheets of my bed, while Tippy was being treated for ironing her hands in punishment, and Remus was locked in the Shrieking Shack, transforming without the aid of his potion that I promised you I would always provide him with.

"When I missed our meeting time, he had sent his patronus over several times to check on me, all going unanswered. After what happened in Godric's Hollow, he floo called Minerva with his concerns and she opened her fireplace so he could come directly into the school. She then used her status as Deputy to rip apart my wards and enter my private lab, where they found me unconscious from an overdose on pain potions."

With the water beginning to chill, Severus reached around Hermione and pulled the stopper from the drain. Summoning a stack of towels, he stepped out of the tub, helping her out so she didn't slip on the wet enamel. When she had her feet firmly planted on the tile, she took one of the floating towels and began to methodically dry him off, batting his hands away when he tried to stop her.

"Let me care for you right now, since I couldn't then," she pleaded softly, circling to his back to begin patting him dry, uncaring of the trail of water she was leaving behind.

He reluctantly accepted, standing exposed before her, while she took her time with him. When she completed her job, she knotted the towel around his hips, grabbing the other to cover herself with, as she led him from the bathroom and back to the bed. He patiently waited while she waddled around the bed fixing the pillows and blankets, before coming back to him and removing the towel.

"Get in," she quietly ordered, before calling Tippy and requesting dinner be brought up to them.

After the little elf left, Hermione dropped her towel to the floor and got into bed beside him, fitting herself as best she could into the crook of his arm and along his body. Severus easily wrapped his arms back around her, his fingers drawing absentminded shapes across her skin while she bled her warmth and love into him.

"I don't think less of you, Severus," she said after some time had passed in a mostly comforting silence. "Everyone has their own demons and monsters that lurk in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to jump out and seize their hosts. No one should judge you because they got their claws into you. What matters is that you broke free of it and put yourself back together. You could have overdosed and recovered and then gone right back to abusing the potion, never even trying to put up a fight against your addiction.

"I understand why you would have rather not told me but thank you for ultimately trusting me enough to do so, even if you felt backed into a corner and like your hand was forced to reveal it to me before you were ready. My opinion of you and my love for you is unwavering. You will never lose it and I hope one day you'll come to believe and trust in that. Until then, I'll be all too happy to remind you of it every single day."

"Hermione, how in the world did I get so lucky as to have you?"

He watched her as she sat up, the sheet slipping off of her and pooling at her hips, and pulled the tray of food that had appeared on the bed closer to them. Picking up the steaming bowl of bœuf bourguignon, she added a toasted piece of bread brushed with roasted garlic into the bowl and turned to face him, giving him an expectant look while she held the spoon in her hand.

"You can't be serious?" He asked, the look firmly remaining in place on her face. "Ugh, fine," he reluctantly accepted sitting up and leaning into her so he could take the spoonful into his mouth.

"Indulge me, Severus," she said, before taking her own bite.

She groaned in pleasure at the taste, savoring every bit of it while she slowly chewed, pointing to the rich stew with the spoon with enthusiasm.

Offering him another bite she said, "We've been over this, not to mention you have now lived it. In my third year, you saved me from an unaware, moon afflicted Remus. To a teenage girl, there is nothing sexier than a dark, intelligent man, who would throw himself between her and danger."

"I will always put myself between you and any threat," he said seriously, making her cheeks bloom with light pink coloring.

With her shyness distracting her, he snatched the spoon out of her hand, laughing at how quickly she went from blushing at his words to fully disgruntled and glaring at him.

"You know I've never been good at receiving nurturing and care. I much prefer it the other way around. Now come here," he said, lifting the spoon up for her to eat, turning her demanding and expectant look back on her.

"Fine, but only because I'm hungry," she relented, leaning in to capture the spoon in her mouth.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, angel."