It was raining the morning that Albus appeared at their door. Hard raindrops pelted the roof and windows, almost masking the soft knock on the front door downstairs. Severus opened his eyes, glancing over at Hermione to see if she had heard it. Apparently she hadn't, as told by her soft snoring and arms thrown comfortably above her head. He slipped out of bed carefully, checking the time as he passed through the living room. 7:13AM. Her parents had a key; they certainly wouldn't be knocking.
He padded down the stairs carefully, wand in hand, and pulled the door open.
"Albus–" Severus said, shocked. He wore the same biker get-up he had in France, but Severus supposed he'd seen stranger outfits in New Orleans.
"Andreas. What year did Padfoot lure you into the Willow?" Severus hated that this was their safe question. But no one else would know the answer.
"1974." He ground out, and when Albus nodded, he stepped aside to let the older man in out of the rain.
"To what do we owe the…pleasure?" Severus asked, leading him up the stairs. "Christine is still asleep."
"Rouse her. I have unfortunate news." Severus nodded over his shoulder, showing Albus into the living room and offering him his choice of seating. The old wizard settled himself into the armchair by the sofa and waited patiently.
Moments later, Severus emerged from the bedroom, followed by Hermione whose hair was mussed from sleep. She covered a yawn and slipped a hooded sweatshirt over her head.
"Your letter last week suggested we were in for a long wait," Severus said.
"Can I offer you tea or coffee, Headmaster?" Hermione asked politely. Albus inclined his head, equally polite.
"Coffee sounds lovely, dear, thank you. And I apologize for the early hour." Hermione gave him a tight smile and made her way to the kitchen to start the coffee pot. A wave of her wand made the brew much quicker and soon she had three mugs floating before her; one for each of them. They dressed their coffee in solemn silence and she settled herself on the sofa next to Severus. Quite close to him, in fact. Severus wondered if Albus would notice their knees touching, or her free hand resting on his thigh.
"What is the news?" Severus asked, somewhat impatiently. Albus nodded slowly, taking a long sip from his cup.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was attacked two nights ago." Hermione's sharp intake of breath was loud in Severus' ear. Her fingers suddenly gripped his leg and the pain of her fingernails was almost grounding.
"Casualties?" Severus' voice sounded gruff to his own ears.
"George Weasley passed at the scene. Fred is in stable, but critical condition at Saint Mungo's." There was a long silence then, until a shaky release of breath brought them back into the reality of what he was telling them. Severus snaked his fingers between her own, gripping her hand tightly.
"Who did it? Did they leave a Mark?" Albus shook his head.
"A Mark was left, but young Draco does not have the ability yet to trace the Magic. I hoped perhaps you might recognize it." Hermione felt Severus stiffen next to her as Albus pulled a piece of brick from his pocket. It was small, but had scorch marks in a strange pattern across the surface. Severus released her hand and held the piece of brick between his palms. Just as quickly, he handed it back to Albus and rubbed his hands against his thighs like he was trying to wipe them clean.
"Dolohov," he growled. Hermione's hand flew to the scar that started at her throat and ended at her hip, covered for the moment by her jumper. "He's supposed to be in azkaban."
"I was not informed of a breach," Albus said, alarmed.
"Either Draco is not performing his duties, or the Dark Lord doesn't trust him with the information."
"Could He not know?" Hermione asked softly from beside him.
"Highly unlikely," Severus said. "Dolohov is extremely loyal. He craves the spot I once had, the spot Lucius has with the Dark Lord. He wishes to be higher in the ranks, and would return to His side immediately." Hermione nodded carefully, releasing another shaky breath.
Albus be damned, Severus wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hauled her into his side, pressing a firm kiss to the top of her messy hair. She pressed her face into his neck.
"I'm pleased that you're finding comfort in each other in these trying times."
"Don't say that like this wasn't your plan all along, Albus," Severus said before he could stop himself. "You weren't exactly subtle." The old wizard's smirk and god-forsaken twinkling eyes confirmed their suspicions immediately. Despite himself, Severus squeezed Hermione closer. He could hear her grind her teeth.
"Why?"
"I saw what you didn't," Albus answered cryptically.
"Meaning?" The younger wizard pressed. Albus, damn him, twinkled even more and gave Severus a knowing smile.
"You share Magic, my boy. The two of you–our world has not seen Magic such as yours in centuries. You may not see it, but to the trained eye, there are threads–reaching. Waiting to come together. Waiting to join. Strong as individuals, but once woven, unstoppable." Albus leaned forward, suddenly quite intense. "They don't stand a chance with you two in this war."
"We're not in this war, Headmaster, we're hiding from it!" Hermione said shrilly.
"When the time comes to fight, you'll know."
"Ron–" Hermione said quickly. "Will they be safe?" Albus stood and patted her shoulder kindly.
"They're all safe. Hidden away like you, my dear."
"You can't tuck everyone away, Albus. This is going to get more violent quickly."
"I'm aware of that." Severus looked defeated, but stood to show Albus out.
Hermione was in the kitchen, brewing another pot of coffee, when he came back upstairs. She was tense, and obviously exhausted. He wasn't sure if he should comfort her or give her space. She pulled her mug from the counter, and it slipped through her fingers, shattering with a jarring sound on the floor at her feet.
And that was where she knelt, amongst the shards of glass, her hand pressed against her mouth. He was with her in an instant, pulling her into his lap and holding her tightly against his chest. She clung to him, shaking with sobs.
"He likened us to a–a weapon!" Hermione ranted later that day, aggressively blending concealer under her eyes to hide the effects of their emotional morning. Severus leaned against the door jam, watching her with a combination of weariness and amusement. "He's using us!"
"He uses everyone," Severus said soberly. She growled and reached for blusher and a brush, sweeping the color across her face just as harshly.
"And what was he blabbering on about threads of magic between us?" She demanded, nearly stabbing herself in the eye with her mascara wand. "What a load of rubbish!" Severus smirked.
"So, the famed brilliance does know its bounds, eh?" He chuckled.
"What are you talking about?"
"Soul magic, wife." She turned an impatient, but interested look in his direction. "I'm not surprised that the witch who stormed out of her Divinations class is skeptical about soul mates."
"Soul mates?" she asked with exaggerated skepticism. "I don't think I can handle many more shocks today. You're saying that you and I are soul mates?"
"Albus certainly thinks so."
"Ah, well, if he thinks so, then it's absolutely true. No doubt." She turned to look back in the mirror. Despite her efforts, her sagging shoulders and drooping eyelids betrayed her exhaustion.
"I wish I could be with them," she murmured. "I can't even imagine how Molly and Arthur are feeling. Poor Fred…"
Hermione rapped her knuckles against her parents' door a couple hours later. After a short moment, her mother pulled the door open, smiling gently.
"Come get coffee with me?" Hermione offered, and the tone in her voice caused Jean's smile to falter.
"Daddy's at the office, should we-?"
"Just us, please, mum." Jean nodded shortly and locked the door behind her.
"Where's Andreas?"
"Ordering merchandise for the shop." They walked quietly for a few minutes; Jean noted how tired her daughter looked. Her eyes were a little swollen, as though she'd had a cry earlier. Her anxiety hitched up a couple of notches.
They walked to the Treme Coffee Shop around the corner, placed their orders, and sat across from one another at a corner table. Hermione seemed to be having a hard time looking her mother in the eye, and the older woman could feel her heart quickening.
"There's a lot I haven't told you about our world," the young woman said in a slow, deliberate voice. "I need to ask you to save your questions until I've finished speaking, please." And, her order forgotten on the edge of the table, Hermione launched into a detailed story about her world, the war, and the very real danger they were in. She started from her first year at Hogwarts to that morning when the Headmaster visited.
"You've kept all of this from us–" Jean gasped. "Why?" Hermione sighed.
"To keep you safe. If something had happened to you," she shrugged, defeated. "I would never forgive myself." Jean covered her face with her hands.
"And if something would have happened to you?"
"I know it's difficult to wrap your head around, mum, but I'm fighting for a place in that world. I'm–I'm fighting for a place for all Muggleborns in that world."
"I'm scared for you, Hermione." Jean whispered. Hermione didn't react to her slip. Her eyes fell closed, and she took a deep breath.
"I'm scared, too, mum. But I'm more scared of a world where we don't win."
"This is a real war. You're a soldier. You and–and Andreas are important factors in this war."
"You were a veteran by the time you were a teenager." Severus' voice echoed in her head. She nodded.
"Yes. We are."
-V-
"It's looking great!" Hermione exclaimed, startling Severus who was hanging herbal illustration prints on the walls of a very small shop they'd found on Burgundy Street. It was barely the size of a dorm room, but they didn't need anything larger. He climbed down from the short ladder he was standing on and nodded, looking around at his handy-work.
"Progress," he agreed. "Stock will be here tomorrow."
"Hello, neighbours!" The pair turned and smiled at Curt and Carter who carried a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "We've come to celebrate!"
"Celebrate what?" Hermione laughed, taking the bottle and placing it on the counter.
"This new store!" Curt said enthusiastically. "Y'all are gonna do great!" Severus couldn't help himself; he grinned and with a silent spell, the champagne was opened and passed around.
It hit him suddenly how easy it would be to stay there. To remain nameless residents of an exciting city with his lovely wife. His wife, who was looking at him with an expression of concern and bemusement. Apparently, he wasn't hiding his emotions well, and he found that he really didn't care. He put his glass down on the counter and swept her into a quick, fierce kiss.
This home.
This place.
This wife.
He wished they could stay there together forever. War, be damned.
He released her and she smiled warmly at him, tucking herself under his arm.
"A toast then!" Carter whooped. "That the Bronstons finally got laid!"
"Must you be so crude?" Severus grumbled into his champagne glass.
"Uhm–yes. Yes, we must." Hermione laughed and returned the toast.
-V-
"My mum knows," Hermione told him, stirring a pot of gumbo. She'd gotten the recipe from a book she'd found at one of the gift shops and had been anxious to try it. "I told her about the war. And about us, what we have to do. She's going to tell dad–lessen the blow a little."
"She should have known long before this."
"I thought I was keeping them safe," her voice was barely above a whisper.
"In a way, you may have been. But keeping them ignorant would have made it hurt even more if something were to happen to you."
"That's what my mum said." His hand came up to caress the back of her neck. She cast a Stasis charm over the stove and turned to face Severus.
"I'm ready to know," she said. Cautiously, Hermione turned to look at him, and he looked stricken.
"What is it that you're ready to know?"
"About you. About the things you've done." His expression turned almost pained and he shrunk in on himself.
"You'll hate me." His voice was barely audible, but she heard him all the same.
"Impossible." She crossed to him and took his hand, leading him to the sofa where she sat sideways, cross legged. "Sit, please. Tell me." He scrubbed a hand across his face and sank down next to her.
"You're going to hate me," he repeated, but she shook her head vehemently.
"Two points; We're married, and you've made it clear that we're going to have to stay married. I should know more about you. I also know that you, at one point, joined the Death Eaters. That means I know you've had to have done some bad things. You're just filling in the blanks here. I want to know everything. Start from when you were a boy, and end when my house was on fire." She was so forward and matter of fact it left his head spinning. He took a deep, sobering breath and launched into the story of his life.
He told her of his abusive, alcoholic father, and of his mother who had good intentions but had been so cowed by her husband that she couldn't protect her son. He hadn't even made it out of his childhood when Hermione began wiping tears from her cheeks. But she stayed blessedly quiet while he spoke. Even when he told her of Lily and the way he'd lost her. She averted her gaze at that point, apparently uncomfortable, and he assured her that he'd never intended it and would never use that word willingly again. She nodded quickly.
Severus told her about his father's death, an unfortunate fall down the stairs, and of his mother's passing when he was sixteen. He told her of the pranks played on him by Harry's father and his friends. When he told her of his initiation into the Death Eaters, she hugged her arms around herself and took deep breaths to keep more tears from filling her eyes.
He looked over at her for the first time during his story and saw that she was chewing her lower lip nervously.
"Ask."
"You called Lilly a–you used that word. And then you joined them."
"I had no idea what I was getting myself into," he told her. "I was a scared, ostracized boy who was desperate for acceptance. He was willing to look past my blood status in exchange for my loyalty. I gladly stepped into the circle, unaware of what he was really planning to do. I never intended to hurt anyone. But I have." And thus, his story continued into what the Dark Lord asked of his followers. The torture and assaults that were required of him. The deal he made with Dumbledore in order to protect the woman he loved, and the first time the old man had failed him.
And she couldn't hate him. Not when she could so clearly see the pain and regret in his harsh features. He hinted at the many times he'd intervened to protect her and her friends, giving her a long knowing look when he described each instance. She looked away, embarrassed. When he finally stopped at the point where he moved her parents to save them from the raid, she finally looked back up at him to find his expression stoic. Carefully, she climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and took his face in her hands. He met her eyes reluctantly, his own filled with regret.
"I don't hate you," she assured him and was met with the most skeptical look she'd ever seen. "I don't hate you. How could I hate you?"
"Were you even listening–?"
"Of course I was! You were a scared child who made a mistake. You've been spending the last twenty years trying to make up for it. You've kept us safe since our first year. How can I hate you for that?" His hands moved from her hips up to her waist. He was dumbfounded. Severus cupped the back of her head and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. She returned it eagerly, pushing herself against him.
How had he ended up here? How had all of his poor decisions brought him to this moment? He pulled away from her, eyes shining with amazement.
"When this is over," she said breathily. "What do we do? What do we do after the war?" His heart sank. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he wouldn't survive the war, and she was destined to be a very young widow. So he dusted the lightest of kisses against her cheeks and told her:
"Whatever you want."
From here on out, things will begin to move more quickly.