Author's Note: Hi readers it's me! My beta is the awesome debjunk, and I just want to thank her again for all of their hard work to help me polish this fic up! As always, I treasure all of your (kudos likes reviews partridges in a pear tree), thank you so much! I'm really loving this fic as an exploration of love... that circumstances may have brought them together, so it's given them a chance to see more, but they have lives outside of "fight the law" and it's not some all-consuming race, and I just... I love writing this and I really hope you're loving it, too. :)
Chapter 4 Part 1
Hermione flopped over with a sigh and blinked blearily up at the dark fabric of her—their—bed's canopy and listened to the shower run. She was well-acquainted to the sounds as Severus washed himself and, ah, yes, there it was, he was humming as he brushed his teeth in the shower. He called it efficient, and, frankly, she thought it was plain weird.
The water ran a bit longer, no more humming now, and she waited for it. There was a groan from the bathroom, and she smiled. Both of them masturbated in the shower when the urge struck. Him because he didn't like the mess and her so the bed stayed clean for him. No sense exacerbating the problem, and besides, the shower head was phenomenal.
Still, waiting for Severus to shower so she could use the toilet gave her time to process last night's dinner. It didn't feel like Christmas now; maybe it would when she was more fully awake. It had taken her far too long to fall asleep, her mind racing with the implications of what the Malfoys had said as well as the channels she would need to pursue to jump-start some anti-Marriage Law dialogue. Perhaps she could start with her older students? Muggle Studies would be a good excuse to get them to think for themselves, especially if she pointed out a few parallels to Muggle history.
The water shut off, and Hermione cracked her neck, sitting up in bed with a rustle of blankets. She was so tired. How was she going to handle having a baby so soon? She hadn't even planned on bringing the idea up to Severus until next year. And from there she had thought that it would be at least another six to ten months before he gave her an answer. But now? It would be best to pre-emptively conceive so that they could focus their efforts on bringing down the Marriage Law rather than juggling that and baby-making.
Hermione pushed her hair out of her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, wishing that she could recapture that magical 'it's Christmas' feeling that she had had right through dessert. Christmas was her favourite holiday, and now...well, now it felt more like mid-December and less like December twenty-fifth.
The bathroom door opened, and Severus entered with a grey towel wrapped around his hair and black—of course—pants on. He looked annoyed.
"Have you seen my trousers?
"The pair you wore last night?"
"No, the pair I mended the cuff on. I thought I left them in the sitting room, and I can't find them."
He dropped the larger grey towel he had been carrying on the bedspread and sat to dry his hair, rubbing the strands and his scalp vigorously.
She refrained from telling him that was bad for such fine hair and instead replied. "I put them away, actually. I didn't realise you weren't finished. They're in the wardrobe, last pair of trousers on the right."
Severus glowered at her over his shoulder, and she let him bluster, noticing the dark circles under his eyes that indicated that the man had slept as restlessly as she had and would need at least a pot of tea all for himself in order to function properly.
"Thank you," he muttered. "I was done mending them, but had intended to wear them today."
"Sorry."
"Don't be," Severus replied tiredly, discarding his towel.
It flew out of the room, presumably to hang itself back up. At least he was a tidy man to share a bathroom with.
Hermione stretched, watching him Summon his socks. If he was using magic for such mundane things, he must be truly tired.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"Very little, and not particularly well, either, before you pester me." Severus paused in the middle of pulling on one sock. "Happy Christmas, by the way."
She sighed. "Happy Christmas, I suppose. I should shower, too."
"Depends," he said, with an awkward hunch to his shoulders.
"On?" she asked curiously.
"On whether or not you want your presents first."
Severus looked back at her over his pale, naked shoulder almost shyly, and Hermione smiled at the near-boyish expression on his face.
"Oh?"
Hermione couldn't stop from grinning and watched in a sort of dazed delight as Severus turned pink all the way down his pale back as he hunched his shoulders and confessed that he "rather quite enjoyed Christmas" and that if he had to pick a holiday it was "far less obnoxious than the rest."
Which was, of course, Severus speak for "I love Christmas."
She was thrilled. "Shower first, I think."
Severus cast another look at his wife. She was sitting on the sofa, her damp hair resting against her back in a mass of tangles, looking at the impressive pile of gifts under their rather shoddy tree. He would have preferred a larger tree, but with her bookshelves added to the room there was simply no space.
It was nice to see her smiling genuinely. Last night had more or less killed the spirit, as it were. The last time he had been unhappy on Christmas had been Dumbledore's little stunt with the Christmas crackers and that bloody hat, but he had at least had the morning and afternoon for some measure of joy.
He was fairly certain that the world would be three times as surprised as his wife that he enjoyed Christmas. He liked the smells, the sound of jingle bells, the way candles flickered on tree boughs and reflected off the brightly-coloured baubles. He even liked tinsel and fairy lights. He just did not show it outside of his private rooms. With his luck in life, someone would have ruined the holiday for him by now.
Then again, he had lucked out with Hermione, so perhaps his foul streak was finally changing.
"More tea?" he asked, offering her the tray.
Hermione blinked and nodded. "Please."
She held out her cup and he poured her another.
"Which do you want to open first?"
Hermione grinned impishly. "The smallest one. I like to open any big ones last."
He snorted and Summoned a few presents for each of them. "You would."
"I like the build up," she confessed.
Severus watched her read the attached label before peeling back the paper with agonising slowness. Shaking his head, he selected one of his own presents and ripped the paper open with glee.
Severus poked at the small lunch portion he had taken, and Hermione didn't blame him. As delicious as the Hogwarts fare was, they were rather full. She had decided to make them breakfast after presents, which had come out beautifully. She had never been so happy as to discover that cooking with magic would make her a better cook, and she had her brilliant husband to thank for it.
Granted, she doubted she would cook often during the school year, what with the convenience of Hogwarts, but having the skill made her happy.
"Any plans today?" It was Pomona who interrupted her thoughts, her eyes sparkling. "Your first Christmas as a married couple! It's always so romantic, I think... and I've plenty of enchanted mistletoe."
Her eyebrows waggled suggestively and Hermione saw Severus flushing from the corner of her vision. "Er...why would we need that?"
He kicked her under the table, and she grunted, but it was too late to take back her question. Hooch had the audacity to cackle.
Pomona leaned closer, and said in a loudly conspiratorial way: "It helps with fertility. You newlyweds probably don't need the encouragement, but the extra bit of magic can't hurt!"
"And I am done." Severus pushed his largely-untouched plate away. "Congratulations, you have managed to ruin yet another Christmas."
Pomona laughed loudly.
Hooch balled up her napkin and lobbed it at him. "Oh, like you like it anyway."
With that, Severus spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, his hands clenched at his sides and his face a curious shade of puce.
Hermione glared at the two of them. "Well. Thank you for that." She hadn't meant for her tone to be so nasty and she tried to temper it as she continued. "You know how private he is, how we both are. Can't you refrain from needling him for one day? It's bloody Christmas!"
She didn't even wait for an answer, and instead nodded to Minerva before taking off after her husband. Hopefully she'd knocked some sense into them. If not, well, there was always another day.
It took a few Point Me's—bloody elusive man!—but she finally found him sulking in the restricted section, no doubt looking for something to wither Pomona's entire crop of mistletoe and cancel all the enchantments on Hooch's brooms.
His eyes flicked to her, and he hunched over the book in his hand. Hermione took that as permission to approach; if he minded her company he would have said so, and probably nastily.
"Are you all right?"
"No," he said tersely.
She nodded and was quiet for a moment. "Hex, jinx, or poison?"
He cracked a small smile.
"Or we could just ignore them and spend the day to ourselves. It's Christmas, and it should be enjoyed."
Severus sighed and closed the book gently. As he slid it back in place on the shelf, the chain re-affixed itself to the spine.
"When are they going to stop?"
"Probably never," she said honestly, leaning against the shelves.
One of the tomes rattled and she tugged sharply on its chain in reprimand before it could start shrieking.
"I know it bothers you; it bothers me, too, but I suppose I've been around Molly enough to be able to brush it off. I'm more than happy to talk to them and tell them to stop, but you've got to grow a thicker skin, too."
He snarled, yanking another book off the shelf, and she held up a hand to forestall him. "It's not going to help either of us if you lose your temper every time someone needles us about children or sex. It certainly doesn't help me. I blew up at Ron a few times when he wanted it and I didn't, and it really doesn't make things better, Severus. I hate people taking such an interest in my personal life, too." She hesitated, unsure if she should reveal her burgeoning feelings. "But...I value our life together too much to let this ruin important things like Christmas."
Severus was quiet for a long moment, staring at the books. Finally, he closed the one he held and slid into into place before he turned to her.
"Cocoa, perhaps?"
Hermione smiled, her heart beating just a bit faster.
It was three days after term had begun again—thankfully with no further discussions of children, the New Year had rung in quite peaceably in the staff lounge—and Hermione was grading in their quarters during her free period when Severus burst in.
Her greeting died on her lips as she took in his snarl and the way he was limping. She nearly leapt from her desk.
"What happened?"
"Higgins," he ground out. His trousers were smoking. "Worse than any of you lot were, somehow—ouch!—turned Strengthening Solution into a corrosive. Imbecilic little bastard—and I mean that, his birth status was splashed all over the Prophet—couldn't find his arse with both hands and a mirror, let alone follow a bloody recipe!"
"Stop that and get in here." Hermione hurried before him to the bathroom, flicking her wand to run the taps. "We've got to get you out of those clothes."
"No," he growled as he shoved his teaching robes off his shoulders to pool on the floor, and she rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.
"Severus, I know you're reticent and don't like being seen naked, but this is a bit more important. You can't let that continue to eat into your skin!"
She planted her hands firmly on her hips, and he glowered but began stripping.
"Faster," she urged.
She knew better than to tell him to Vanish his clothing; she'd find herself shoved out of the bathroom faster than she could say Quidditch.
"It's smoking! I don't know why you wear so many layers."
"And it burns like hell," he snarled. "This is why I wear so many thrice-damned layers, I'll have you know. Wool at least acts as a protector thanks to the—damn it, that stings—lanolin."
"You really need to have some sort of emergency shower installed near your classroom," Hermione said, taking his coat gingerly.
The shirt was Vanished, at least, and he peeled his trousers down, tossing them into the shower.
Hermione gasped at the red burns spreading across his thigh and lower abdomen, concern fluttering around inside her. Severus paused, his hands on his pants.
"Mirror cupboard, blue jar. The unguent inside should smell like rosemary but appear pale lavender."
She hurried to find it, and the small pop told her he'd Vanished his pants. The shower curtain was tugged into place just as she opened the third blue jar and sniffed it.
"Got it."
Severus hissed and she tried not to fret.
"Should I call Poppy?"
There was a long silence before he replied. "I am going to pretend I didn't hear that ridiculous suggestion."
He paused.
"But I appreciate your concern."
Hermione smiled and perched on the counter, holding the jar and swinging her feet. "Does this happen often?"
"No," Severus replied over the rushing of the water. "Usually I am able to stop it in time. And it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Those ingredients should not react in this manner at all. So either he added something to the cauldron I didn't see, or he has a unique predisposition and should be removed from Potions."
"Ah." His curtained form reached upwards to where she knew there was a mysterious vial. She watched him open it and begin to rub the contents over his burns. Mystery solved, then, some sort of emergency thing. Good to know. And of course he was prepared for anything. Hermione smiled.
She listened to him shower, taking comfort in the usual sounds. She had been so...worried. It wasn't like him to show pain, to rush to his quarters in the middle of class... Merlin, but she was well and truly in love with him. Hermione nibbled on her lip, wondering how to approach that, and just when she had fallen in love with him. She was fairly certain, now, that it was before she'd proposed.
Halfway through her fifth fantasy of being rejected—this time in front of the entire school, with accusations that she'd trapped him into marriage on purpose—the shower shut off and he emerged, dripping.
"Jar."
Quickly, she hopped off the counter but he didn't take it.
"Open it."
His gaze was shuttered, and she realised he was flushing from more than the heat of the shower.
"You will need to apply it, I'm afraid."
As she came closer she saw how bad it was. The skin was cracked and bleeding, parts raised in blisters. No wonder he needed her to apply it. If he had tried bending he would have been in excruciating pain.
Opening the jar, Hermione dipped her fingers in and took a healthy dollop before looking to him for guidance. Severus looked away from her, clearly uncomfortable.
"You will need to apply clockwise until it turns clear."
His gaze was remote as she started, and it was apparent that he was using Occlumency. What had he done in the past, since he disliked going to Poppy so much?
"What would you do without me?" she asked teasingly before her brain had caught up with her mouth.
Severus snorted, then hissed again. Shit, she'd ruined his concentration. He'd told her before that masking his thoughts or emotions with Occlumency came as naturally to him as breathing, but hiding pain took more effort. The more it hurt, the more effort it took. Therefore, she surmised, he was in a great deal of pain.
Troubled, she took more of the unguent and applied it. It was turning his skin a violent shade of purple upon contact with the burned areas, but as it turned clear the burns were fading. It was potent stuff. His frown was clearing as more and more of the burns disappeared.
"Thank you," he said as she straightened.
"Anytime."
Hermione used her unguent-free hand to hand him his towel before pointedly turning her back to put away the jar and wash her hands. He towelled off quickly behind her, and she tried not to watch him in the mirror so he would be comfortable. She had no problem with nudity, herself, but while he had adjusted to her walking around in a towel or occasionally sleeping with nothing on, he remained staunchly clothed as much as possible.
Sometimes she wondered if Harry's dad and the incident he'd seen in the Pensieve had had anything to do with it, but it wasn't any of her business or her place to ask. Better to let him trust her and find his comfort zone, so to speak.
She let him leave the bathroom first, giving him enough time to dress. Instead, she was surprised to find him sitting nude on his towel with a conjured mirror, inspecting his injuries.
He glanced up at her. "You're turning red."
"I—I just...I wasn't expecting... you're usually so..."
"Reticent?" Severus replied dryly. "If you must know, I am actually trying very hard not to attempt to Apparate into a set of clothes."
"Oh." She bit her tongue as he prodded gently at the last of the quickly-fading burns.
"Which recipe was in that jar, by the way? I didn't recognise it."
"I would have been surprised if you had," he said.
He rose and moved to retrieve fresh clothing from the armoire. "It is a personal recipe I keep on hand for occasions like today. I haven't had the misfortune of such an accident in years, however. It's not usually this bad."
Hermione watched him dress with a soft smile. Without the burns marring his skin, which already had its fair share of scars and marks, it was a pleasant return to normalcy. When he was finally fully clothed, cravat tied and buttons done up, boots shining as he swirled his robes around his form, she found it easier to breathe. He was okay. Unharmed.
Clearly discomfited by her staring, Severus gave her a sneer. "Don't you have a class to teach soon?"
Horrified, she turned to the clock. "Oh, shit!"
"And you gave him five weeks of detention for the explosion!" Minerva said, irritated.
The staff room was empty save for the two of them, and she was still yelling at him over Higgins.
Severus glared at her over his paper. "It has been over a week, and the lesson from his detentions is a valuable one. The point loss has already been made up twice over. You will survive not having the boy for one Quidditch match. Hufflepuff's Chasers aren't good enough to beat your second string Keeper and you know it."
Minerva glared at him, and he glowered back.
"If you were playing my house," he added, "you would be right to be worried." For good measure, he waggled his eyebrows.
She snorted. "I can't take you seriously when you do that." She patted his hand warmly, and he, for once, didn't pull away. "Four weeks detention?"
"And ruin my reputation as the fearsome bat of the dungeons? You need to lay off the catnip."
The Headmistress chortled in a most un-ladylike manner, nearly knocking over the finger of scotch in the glass by her elbow. Her mirth did not dislodge it; no, that feat was achieved mere moments later as an owl swooping into the lounge via the chimney startled them both.
The bird avoided having its tail feathers singed—by both flame and wand—to land on the arm of his chair and click its beak at him. Severus took the proffered envelope cautiously; Malfoy birds tended to bite when they were displeased.
His fingers were spared any abuse from the owl, which, having delivered its missive, took off once more.
"Well that was a tad rude," Minerva said briskly.
A few flicks rescued the glass, cleaned the mess, and refilled her after-classes drink. Her wand disappeared into the tartan folds of her skirt.
"Who's it from at this hour?"
"Curiosity," he replied mildly, turning it over. He was surprised that the usual ward wasn't on the seal, but given that his name was written in a shaky hand, he assumed that it was urgent.
Minerva squinted at the letter, and he ignored her obnoxious need to know everything as he lifted the flap. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he skimmed the letter.
"Draco Malfoy is to be a father."
"Goodness!" Minerva sat back. "I suppose I'll have to plan my retirement then, if we're to have Malfoys and Potters back here at once."
"They weren't that bad. Or rather, they weren't when their enmity wasn't exacerbated by Dark Lords and meddling Headmasters," he amended.
He returned the letter to the envelope and slid it into a pocket.
"Hermione is late. Isn't she usually here by now?"
"She is holding a revision session to reflect some of the changes she made to her lesson plans. I believe she said it is an extra credit assignment event, and she is having the students compare and contrast our own current political climate with Muggle history."
"That is dangerously close to breaking her contract." Minerva looked both pleased and worried, and he sneered.
"Please. She suggested a comparison, and the students themselves have chosen the topics. Simply because they cross over into certain...views doesn't violate her contract. Her opinion has been stated nowhere. It is purely the students. She is merely moderating."
"That's not how the Ministry will see it if she incites a rebellion."
They both knew that wasn't true, as there was enough evidence to show that it had merely been the students' ideas, with Hermione simply moderating their discussions.
"I beg to differ," he said smugly. "Because if things come to that point, it will be because their ridiculous 'law' will finally have gone after the students themselves."
Minerva's lips thinned in displeasure. "They had better not. Forcing people to marry is bad enough. I'm surprised the protests haven't gotten worse as it is. I've been writing to various publications with opinion pieces, and support has been forthcoming, albeit it has yet to move from print to action."
"It's all we can do," Severus said.
His tone was grim. Their contracts more or less tied their hands. The only reason they could break their contracts was if there was another pending rise of a Dark Lord. Sadly, Ministry stupidity did not count as a true threat to the Wizarding World.
"I also have been writing, to publications both here and on the Continent."
Unwilling to reveal to her the next step in the Ministry's misguided plan, Severus instead asked her opinion on a trivial matter.
Their conversation tapered off, and he flicked his paper back up and pretended to read. In reality, however, his mind was racing, focused on the letter. Draco and Astoria had been successful, yes, but the rest of the letter had been simple and direct: he had four months. It was terrifying. Time was so short.
He had much to consider.
A few weeks had passed since the explosion in his class when Hermione returned to their quarters to find a very large tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries awaiting her. Severus was also waiting, sitting on the sofa with a book in his lap.
"There you are. I was wondering what was keeping you."
She hesitated. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said mildly.
"Severus. Those are strawberries. Dipped in chocolate. Dark chocolate. And drizzled with milk chocolate. You have gotten the biggest pile of them possible. So something is wrong."
Never mind that she wanted them, and badly. She was in day two of what was shaping up to be one of the most painful periods of her adult life, likely caused by stress.
"The last time you had chocolates waiting for me, you'd accidentally knocked a pile of graded essays into the hearth."
He scowled, then visibly made an effort to smooth his features. "Nothing is wrong. I have something to discuss with you and was hoping to distract you with sweets you are clearly in dire need of."
Her gut churned as she sat next to him and selected the large strawberry on top. "Er, all right..."
To his credit, he waited until she'd swallowed her first bite, else she would likely have choked when he blurted: "We need to have a child."
As it was, she blinked wildly. This was absolutely the last thing she would have expected.
"Er..."
"Draco owled me," he continued, looking terribly uncomfortable. "We have three and a half months to achieve this before the new law is signed in. He and Astoria have already been successful."
"Oh, dear." Hermione paled. Well, at least he was the one starting the conversation. "How would you like to go about it?"
"I have done some research on various spells. I'm fairly certain that, combined with a potion, we could be done this month. However, it is a great deal to ask of you, as it is your body that will be...accomplishing this."
Hermione took a deep breath. Severus was watching her, his fingers tapping against his knee cap, a sure sign of anxiety from him.
"Severus...I do want children. However," and here she saw his shoulders tense for rejection, "while I want them with you, I...I think you ought to know something."
His face was impassive. Stone. Oh, god, how could she say it? She consumed another bite of strawberry for fortitude.
"I...I didn't realise this when I proposed. I didn't understand, and...you should know before we bring children into this." She closed her eyes and wrung her hands together. "When the Ministry repeals these laws, I don't want to end our marriage. I want to stay with you. I...I'm in love with you."
Her stomach was in knots, and she was in very real danger of throwing her strawberry back up.
"Hermione." Her eyes flew open at the warm touch of his hand on hers. His dark eyes met hers, his gaze sincere yet shuttered. "We are agreed on that matter."
It was such a Severus thing to say that she choked on a laugh and nearly threw herself at him to embrace him, knocking his book to the floor.
"I thought you would reject me," she said, muffled into his shoulder. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her. "I never thought..."
"I did not realise the emotion myself," he said quietly.
She laughed again. "You realise that this is probably the least romantic and most awkward confession ever? And we work in a school full of teenagers!"
He snorted softly in her ear before drawing back. She let him go, and smiled to see his cheeks pink. Her own face felt warm.
"At least we have addressed that," Severus said. "However, we have another issue to discuss."
"Of course."
Hermione selected another strawberry, and offered one to him. He waved a hand to decline, so she popped hers into her mouth, savouring it before speaking.
"Are you alright with this? Actually having children and not just talking about it? We can always put it off as long as possible and wait for the law to be repealed, or resign to actively fight it."
"I am amenable to a child." Severus closed his eyes and when they opened his expression was remote. "I admit discomfort at discussing it. I find the process, even with spells, to be disturbing to me and would prefer to get it in one, so to speak. I have faith that you will alleviate my worst temperaments when it comes to raising a child. I will have to learn more patience, I'm certain."
Hermione exhaled, nodding. "I trust you with children, Especially our children, but I think you'd surprise yourself. You'll also be getting to know our child, Severus. It won't be like we're just throwing a child with a fully-formed personality in front of you like a student."
"True." His lips twisted in a wry grin. "I dislike most of the little miscreants."
"I do, too," she confessed. "A lot of them are spoiled and rotten little brats. Some of them are all right, but some I just want to stick in detention with Filch to teach them some manners!"
"For manners you should send them to me," he groused. "Argus will just wax reminiscent on torture."
"Yes, but then who would I argue with at night?"
Severus chuckled. "We are getting off-topic."
"Oh. Right." Hermione nibbled on her lip. "So tell me what you've found."
"There are the tried and true spells to determine your optimum time for fertility." He sounded very clinical, and she didn't blame him. "As well as a series of spells I can easily modify to send my contribution to its ideal locale."
Hermione was curious to know how he had devised that particular one, but knew better than to ask right now.
"The only problem will be that immediately upon the end of your current cycle you would need to take a potion daily. I will also need to take it. It is a rather foul brew, and I admit it is entirely experimental, but I am confident that it will aid in conception."
"Your experiment?" she queried.
"Yes."
Hermione nodded, staring at the line of photos on the mantle as she chewed another strawberry. She exhaled noisily through her nose.
"All right. On two conditions."
Severus's face, if possible, went even more blank. Merlin, he looked like he was either about to kill someone or jump off a bridge himself.
"And they are?"
"Ron," she blurted. "We have to find a way to warn Ron. He doesn't want children yet, if ever. It's not fair to him or Pansy. They're just getting used to marriage and a crup!"
He nodded slowly. "I will ensure that he is forewarned. The second?"
Hermione's teeth sank into her lip, her stomach twisting. "I...I've always thought that children from two people in a relationship should be made in love. And we have that, I know, but...it's not the same. I know you're repulsed by the whole thing, but...when we cast the spell, would you at least hold my hand? I won't look or ask to help you with your bit, but...well, to be perfectly honest, Severus, I'm a touch terrified."
"I will consider it." His brows drew together, and she smiled at him nervously. "I understand your reasoning, Hermione."
She nodded, feeling about as uncomfortable as he looked, and poked at the strawberries. "I am worried, though, about how this will affect our letter-writing. Children are time-consuming."
"There are duplication charms. We can inundate publications at the same rate. We can hire someone to nanny if necessary."
"Not a student," she interjected.
"Never," he avowed.
"And not Hagrid."
"I like Hagrid," he muttered. "But no, he would not be suitable. You are getting off-topic again."
"I think I'm avoiding it," Hermione confessed. "I want to keep fighting the Ministry and their ridiculous laws, but between classes, grading, lesson-planning, and now pregnancy? I don't know if I can keep up with it."
"Try spying," Severus said dryly. "I imagine our efforts will be slowed, but I have no doubt that you will continue to mastermind efforts with your classes and drag your friends into the melee."
"Oh, like you're any better," she said, smiling genuinely. "I caught some of your students in the library researching contraceptives because 'Professor Snape offhandedly mentioned an ingredient of them would be on the final exam'. Very sneaky."
His lips twisted into a thin smile, and he glanced down at his hands. It was an almost boyish look for him, and she smiled even wider.
"Severus?" He looked up questioningly. "I ought to say it properly, I think. I love you."
His hands clenched reflexively into fists, and he didn't make eye contact, but he managed it. "I love you, too."
Severus sat in their bed, listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing. His wife—who loved him—was asleep. He envied her that state, as he had been restless since their discussion earlier. His wife—who loved him—was going to try for a baby with him. Insanity. Clearly, he had gone mad, and his wife—who loved him—was humouring him.
Only, that didn't make sense. Hermione—who loved him—wasn't one to humour him. If he was mad, she would tell him so and drag him to Poppy. If Hermione didn't want a baby, with him, she wouldn't be agreeing to it. And after all, they had talked about it originally, when it had been some far-off 'someday' thing, not staring them in the face.
Hermione—who loved him—was terrified, and he didn't blame her. He wasn't much better off, only he seemed incapable to admit it to her. No wonder Minerva had insisted he see a therapist if he couldn't tell his wife—who loved him—that he was afraid of becoming a father. Or of losing sight of the slog of a battle against the Ministry and their bloody stupid laws.
Hesitantly, he reached over to run a hand down her hair. She was sleeping rather fitfully, and he was admittedly uncertain if it was due to cramps or stress. She soothed at his touch when he reached her shoulder and he froze. Such a small gesture of trust, and it twisted in his gut. He could barely manage to give voice to his feelings for her; how could he do better with a child?
It was all a horrible undertaking, Severus thought. His wife—who loved him—was an intelligent person, with a rather forceful personality most of the time, with her priorities well-sorted and her heart and mind in a good place, though she didn't often care about breaking rules to achieve her goals. And yet she thought he was good enough, trustworthy enough.
Withdrawing his hand, Severus eased his way out of bed and began to methodically dress. In the past, he had found a solution for his restlessness to be walking the halls. He didn't expect to find students out of bed at this late hour, but he found the solitude comforting.
Only, he realised halfway through his second circuit, he did not want solitude in the cold, dark halls. He wanted to be awake in his chambers, sitting in bed next to his wife—who loved him.