Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Harry Potter series of books.
I am making no money from the distribution of this fanfiction. Anything you
recognize is not mine.
Author notes: Thanks everyone who had reviewed so far.
Chapter 9: Back At Home
After she had apparated to Fiddaqua, Severus's home, she walked about the place recalling that not much had changed. Some of the wallpaper was faded and the carpets dingy, but overall the home seemed immaculate. She walked up the large steps and absentmindedly headed towards the rooms she had once shared with Severus. The green rooms they were called because of the drastic use of green throughout them. She highly doubted she would be staying in these rooms, so she headed to the red rooms from there knowing he would probably have her stay in them. There was a small nursery where she assumed he had been raised in as a child; she found it hard to imagine Severus as a child.
A slight breeze brought her thoughts back to her torn robes and matted hair. She wondered if Severus kept any extra robes about for guest use, but thought otherwise since he rarely had company. She ravaged his rooms for any clothing and found one robe, one pair of silk boxers, and one white undershirt which she hoped would satisfy her abnormal sized breasts that still hadn't shrunk from the birth. As soon as she had found the necessities, she went back to the West wing where the red rooms were and started a bath. It was obvious that no one had used the bath in quite a time because there was a funny color and smell to the water as she turned it on. It had a yellow tint and smelled faintly like belladonna. She hoped that whomever had lived in the rooms hadn't poisoned themselves with the plant.
Before stepping in the water, she disrobed and stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn't vain or arrogant, she was simply in awe that someone could do the things Christopher had to a person. The scar on her face actually looked at home with the rest of her body. The scar on her stomach hadn't been revealed for years. Every once in a while, she forgot it was there because she had to look at the one on her face almost daily, the one across her abdomen seemed so ghastly. It was jagged and on the whole very offensive. After cleaning her face with a rag, she stepped into the water and soaked. It had been years since she'd bothered with a real bath and although the bath was relaxing, it did nothing for her mind. She couldn't stop thinking and analyzing the day into pieces. She wondered if she had been so awful to Christopher that it made him crazy like that or if he loved her or Fletcher at all. She soaked for a while before she finally gave up and dried off. Baths simply weren't her way to relax, she needed a good book and some Earl Grey.
After transfiguring Severus's clothes into suitable sized woman's attire, she headed to the kitchen to scope for tea and cakes. She knew the library would be stocked with books she hadn't heard of or seen in normal circumstance. After brewing some tea and devouring some raspberry cakes, she sat at a chair in the den to sip her tea and settle her mind. She must have been more tired than she had first assessed because she soon spilled her tea on the carpet and fell asleep in a ball.
"Hermione! Hermione! Where have you gotten off to?" She heard from the rear entrance of the house.
"I'm in the den." She called out into darkness. The house had never seemed so lonely until that second she awoke, alone in the den with nothing but a notebook and a quill. She waited for Severus to enter the room with her son, though at the same time wanted nothing more than the solitude of that empty room.
"I see you found some clothes." Severus said entering the room, Fletcher wrapped in blankets, a bundle in his arms. "And for future reference, raspberry jam goes on the bread and not on your face and tea down your throat and not on my carpet." He cast a spell to clean the carpet and then handed the baby to Hermione who had never felt so ashamed and alone.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered, knowing that Severus hated messiness in his house. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe and then her eyes. Sometimes she wondered why the little things made her cry the most. It wasn't his accusations really, merely the fact that he had noticed the raspberry pastry on her face and the spilled tea on the floor before asking her how she felt or if she had enjoyed her time alone. She couldn't bear to look into his eyes at that moment. Fletcher seemed content to stare into his mother's eyes, even if they were sad, and coo softly to himself in his blankets.
"Molly sends her well wishes, though she was worried you would be staying here. I will have Trixie prepare the red rooms for your stay." He said, the malice gone from his voice.
"I've taken care of it already."
"Oh, well, good then. If you don't mind, I am going to retire for the evening." He didn't wait for a response while billowing out of the den and into the hall.
"Thank you, again." She spoke softly kissing her son's head. She watched Severus turn from the kitchens and head towards the stairs. Instantly she felt as though she should've stayed at Remus's house instead of Severus's. It would have been lonely, granted, but she wouldn't feel the turmoil or angst she was feeling then.
After changing Fletchers nappy and clothes into something warmer, she relaxed in the sitting room to work on reports. It felt strangely relaxing to be in the rooms once more. She'd always felt odd and out of place in her own home with Christopher and Severus's had always felt comfortable and inviting. Once she finished the bulk of her reports, she amassed the papers into a single pile amazed that she had finally finished some work.
Fletcher cried out sometime during her intoxicating moment and her world was brought back into her reality. She figured he was hungry so she walked to the kitchen with him in a mock backpack and found the formula she was storing in the icebox. She warmed it slightly with her wand and searched the room for a chair more comfortable than a slab of wood. She found one with padding and then transfigured it to rock like a rocking chair and then bounded on it Indian style, her child against her chest. It was moments as those that made Hermione cherish her son. He always gazed into her eyes with hope; it was as if it never mattered to him if his mother was the Queen or a pauper, he was simply glad to know she was there. Yet she knew he couldn't actually see her and that made her heart sore with guilt. His hair seemed ever changing from a chestnut brown to a rusty golden brown, which amused her because her father's had been the same way.
Before she realized he was even in the room, Severus was behind her watching the scene with curiosity. He had been watching her from the doorway for twenty minutes and felt that he should at least say goodnight properly to a woman who had lost so much in one day. He wondered how she could profess not to be motherly or have instincts that mothers have to raise and love a child. To him, he had never seen her more beautiful and selfless; her hair in a mess, in robes that were too large in his kitchen. He offered his hand on her should as a peace sign, feeling a little in error for the unfortunate way he had arrived home with Fletcher. Hermione had never been overly affectionate, she had never been one for displays of affection aside from private quarters, but he felt she might need someone, anyone to comfort her.
She took the almost empty bottle from Fletchers mouth and rubbed his back smoothly as she lay him across her body. Severus watched in awe wondering if she even knew he was there in the room at all. He heard a slight rumble from the infant and with that moved his hand from Hermione's shoulder to the little one's head. He smoothed the hair on his head and then took a step back from the two. It wasn't in his nature to show affection either and it wasn't as if he felt certain affections for Fletcher, it was that he was Hermione's son.
"You have been so kind to let us stay here tonight, Severus."
"I only hope it had been comforting and not unsettling, that, after all, is not my intention."
"It has been everything I've needed. I only hope we haven't been a burden." Hermione stood to face him, Fletcher asleep peacefully in her arms. Severus couldn't help but feel saddened as he saw that she must've been crying.
"No burden. In fact it's been nice having someone else in the house making noise. I often can't stay here for long periods because of the solitude."
"Perhaps that is because of the students."
"Yes, rather astute observation." Severus tried to mask his own emotions while looking at her in the kitchens like they'd done several times before. This time she wasn't up late for a snack or for a drink, she was feeding her son whom she'd had after leaving his house. He moved to the liquor cabinet and took out the Canterbury wine he had saved from Christmas and poured a glass. "Care for a glass?" He asked, remembering that she once enjoyed the wine.
"Perhaps another time, I am afraid consuming alcohol tonight would only turn me into a horrid beast no one could suffer tomorrow, but thank you all the same." She walked past him, her shoulders low and her head lower. He had never seen the woman more dejected and alone.
Fletcher remained asleep as she walked or rather paced the length of the nursery. She had been feeling rigid, unwelcome feelings since being reintroduced to Severus Snape in September. She was happy to have received the opportunity to be involved with the research she had once been part of but felt rather torn in knowing that she inevitably fell into the same mind state she'd been in before. Not that she had ever really stopped loving Severus, it had been dormant in her being since she'd left him.
Every time she thought about the night she had left him, she wondered if she had decided to stay whether they would've been able to work things out. Then she remembered she would've had to talk about the abduction and also Julius before she was ready. It wasn't as if s true rekindling had happened. Severus had merely offered his home to a woman and child in need of solitude and comfort. It wasn't as if he'd said," Hermione, glad you've ditched your husband, why don't you come by my house for a good shag and then maybe you can become my mistress." She would have probably fainted if a sentence as that had ever left his lips. She feared it was obvious that she still loved him after all she had kissed him in his office while still very much attached to her husband, at least contractually.
At one in the morning, Hermione headed back to the kitchens to obtain another bottle. It would be another hour or so before Fletcher would wake for his late night feeding. If he hadn't cried by four a.m. he normally slept the night through. Having learned and memorized these things about her child made her believe she could someday be a good mother. AS it looked from that night, Fletcher wouldn't have a father so she would have to be both a good mother and father. She finished making a bottle and headed back to nursery to wait for Fletcher to awake.
Before going back up the stairs, she went to the library to find a book to occupy her mind while she waited. She preferred the lower library because of it's wider selection and controversial material. The door creaked loudly as she entered the library, the books seemed to sigh in relief as the creaking ceased. She made her way cautiously through the rows trying to make as little noise as possible as not to disturb the residents. She made her way to the home of most of the ailments and afflictions sections to look up Lycanthropy to gain more information on the mental state of werewolves and their actions. She had studied the werewolf for years but rather never learned much about their day to day struggles with the affliction only the week before the full moon. She opened one of the books and began reading about the month cycle of the werewolf and the different stages they went through during the time. The reading seemed useless as she wouldn't have to worry about living with a werewolf any longer. Fletcher had tested negative as a newborn and it had been lucky that they'd tested him because his blindness had been discovered then. She tucked the book back on the shelf and continued to search for something useful.
"Having trouble sleeping, Mrs. Hopkins?" She heard from behind her.
"It is Fletcher's feeding time, though he isn't awake yet." She replied facing the man behind the aisle.
"Yes, I find that he may very well be the only sleeping inhabitant of this house."
"Those dreams are going to slowly kill you, Severus, why not take a draught to ease them?" He sneered his lip and closed the book he happened to be reading. She saw he was reading about the habits of werewolves as well.
"The draughts do not endure." He replied, no sarcasm in his voice, only desperation. He sounded as though he had finally tried the potions, which had been a constant battle between them when they were living in the house together. Every night he would wake in terror, the grief and pain almost unbearable. Every night she would beg him to take the draught and every night he refused.
"I am sorry for mentioning it, then." She replied wrapping his borrowed robe around her tightly.
"It is merely a burden I bear and I assume there is always a reason for everything. Unfortunately, the bad times in our lives are repeated more often in our dreams than the good times." He was despondent.
"I wrote to Remus about something like that after school ended and then after Voldemort fell. He always said it was just my way of dealing with things, to dream of them I mean. I often dream about that night in the cellar. When Fletcher was born I dreamt of it because I had...sorry I am saying too much." She turned quickly from his gaze, not wanting to have a conversation four years in the making. She grabbed Fletchers bottle and walked swiftly out of the library. As if to sense his mothers state, Fletcher James began crying as loud as possible to signal his need. She practically flew up the stairs and to his side, out of breath and shaking. She gather the child from his unfamiliar crib to her familiar arms. She kissed his forehead and warmed him with her hands. After trying to feed him, she changed his nappy, then clothes, then rocked him gently back to sleep. She wondered if he had really sensed her need for a diversion, then placed him back in his crib and fell asleep herself.
Author notes: Thanks everyone who had reviewed so far.
Chapter 9: Back At Home
After she had apparated to Fiddaqua, Severus's home, she walked about the place recalling that not much had changed. Some of the wallpaper was faded and the carpets dingy, but overall the home seemed immaculate. She walked up the large steps and absentmindedly headed towards the rooms she had once shared with Severus. The green rooms they were called because of the drastic use of green throughout them. She highly doubted she would be staying in these rooms, so she headed to the red rooms from there knowing he would probably have her stay in them. There was a small nursery where she assumed he had been raised in as a child; she found it hard to imagine Severus as a child.
A slight breeze brought her thoughts back to her torn robes and matted hair. She wondered if Severus kept any extra robes about for guest use, but thought otherwise since he rarely had company. She ravaged his rooms for any clothing and found one robe, one pair of silk boxers, and one white undershirt which she hoped would satisfy her abnormal sized breasts that still hadn't shrunk from the birth. As soon as she had found the necessities, she went back to the West wing where the red rooms were and started a bath. It was obvious that no one had used the bath in quite a time because there was a funny color and smell to the water as she turned it on. It had a yellow tint and smelled faintly like belladonna. She hoped that whomever had lived in the rooms hadn't poisoned themselves with the plant.
Before stepping in the water, she disrobed and stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn't vain or arrogant, she was simply in awe that someone could do the things Christopher had to a person. The scar on her face actually looked at home with the rest of her body. The scar on her stomach hadn't been revealed for years. Every once in a while, she forgot it was there because she had to look at the one on her face almost daily, the one across her abdomen seemed so ghastly. It was jagged and on the whole very offensive. After cleaning her face with a rag, she stepped into the water and soaked. It had been years since she'd bothered with a real bath and although the bath was relaxing, it did nothing for her mind. She couldn't stop thinking and analyzing the day into pieces. She wondered if she had been so awful to Christopher that it made him crazy like that or if he loved her or Fletcher at all. She soaked for a while before she finally gave up and dried off. Baths simply weren't her way to relax, she needed a good book and some Earl Grey.
After transfiguring Severus's clothes into suitable sized woman's attire, she headed to the kitchen to scope for tea and cakes. She knew the library would be stocked with books she hadn't heard of or seen in normal circumstance. After brewing some tea and devouring some raspberry cakes, she sat at a chair in the den to sip her tea and settle her mind. She must have been more tired than she had first assessed because she soon spilled her tea on the carpet and fell asleep in a ball.
"Hermione! Hermione! Where have you gotten off to?" She heard from the rear entrance of the house.
"I'm in the den." She called out into darkness. The house had never seemed so lonely until that second she awoke, alone in the den with nothing but a notebook and a quill. She waited for Severus to enter the room with her son, though at the same time wanted nothing more than the solitude of that empty room.
"I see you found some clothes." Severus said entering the room, Fletcher wrapped in blankets, a bundle in his arms. "And for future reference, raspberry jam goes on the bread and not on your face and tea down your throat and not on my carpet." He cast a spell to clean the carpet and then handed the baby to Hermione who had never felt so ashamed and alone.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered, knowing that Severus hated messiness in his house. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe and then her eyes. Sometimes she wondered why the little things made her cry the most. It wasn't his accusations really, merely the fact that he had noticed the raspberry pastry on her face and the spilled tea on the floor before asking her how she felt or if she had enjoyed her time alone. She couldn't bear to look into his eyes at that moment. Fletcher seemed content to stare into his mother's eyes, even if they were sad, and coo softly to himself in his blankets.
"Molly sends her well wishes, though she was worried you would be staying here. I will have Trixie prepare the red rooms for your stay." He said, the malice gone from his voice.
"I've taken care of it already."
"Oh, well, good then. If you don't mind, I am going to retire for the evening." He didn't wait for a response while billowing out of the den and into the hall.
"Thank you, again." She spoke softly kissing her son's head. She watched Severus turn from the kitchens and head towards the stairs. Instantly she felt as though she should've stayed at Remus's house instead of Severus's. It would have been lonely, granted, but she wouldn't feel the turmoil or angst she was feeling then.
After changing Fletchers nappy and clothes into something warmer, she relaxed in the sitting room to work on reports. It felt strangely relaxing to be in the rooms once more. She'd always felt odd and out of place in her own home with Christopher and Severus's had always felt comfortable and inviting. Once she finished the bulk of her reports, she amassed the papers into a single pile amazed that she had finally finished some work.
Fletcher cried out sometime during her intoxicating moment and her world was brought back into her reality. She figured he was hungry so she walked to the kitchen with him in a mock backpack and found the formula she was storing in the icebox. She warmed it slightly with her wand and searched the room for a chair more comfortable than a slab of wood. She found one with padding and then transfigured it to rock like a rocking chair and then bounded on it Indian style, her child against her chest. It was moments as those that made Hermione cherish her son. He always gazed into her eyes with hope; it was as if it never mattered to him if his mother was the Queen or a pauper, he was simply glad to know she was there. Yet she knew he couldn't actually see her and that made her heart sore with guilt. His hair seemed ever changing from a chestnut brown to a rusty golden brown, which amused her because her father's had been the same way.
Before she realized he was even in the room, Severus was behind her watching the scene with curiosity. He had been watching her from the doorway for twenty minutes and felt that he should at least say goodnight properly to a woman who had lost so much in one day. He wondered how she could profess not to be motherly or have instincts that mothers have to raise and love a child. To him, he had never seen her more beautiful and selfless; her hair in a mess, in robes that were too large in his kitchen. He offered his hand on her should as a peace sign, feeling a little in error for the unfortunate way he had arrived home with Fletcher. Hermione had never been overly affectionate, she had never been one for displays of affection aside from private quarters, but he felt she might need someone, anyone to comfort her.
She took the almost empty bottle from Fletchers mouth and rubbed his back smoothly as she lay him across her body. Severus watched in awe wondering if she even knew he was there in the room at all. He heard a slight rumble from the infant and with that moved his hand from Hermione's shoulder to the little one's head. He smoothed the hair on his head and then took a step back from the two. It wasn't in his nature to show affection either and it wasn't as if he felt certain affections for Fletcher, it was that he was Hermione's son.
"You have been so kind to let us stay here tonight, Severus."
"I only hope it had been comforting and not unsettling, that, after all, is not my intention."
"It has been everything I've needed. I only hope we haven't been a burden." Hermione stood to face him, Fletcher asleep peacefully in her arms. Severus couldn't help but feel saddened as he saw that she must've been crying.
"No burden. In fact it's been nice having someone else in the house making noise. I often can't stay here for long periods because of the solitude."
"Perhaps that is because of the students."
"Yes, rather astute observation." Severus tried to mask his own emotions while looking at her in the kitchens like they'd done several times before. This time she wasn't up late for a snack or for a drink, she was feeding her son whom she'd had after leaving his house. He moved to the liquor cabinet and took out the Canterbury wine he had saved from Christmas and poured a glass. "Care for a glass?" He asked, remembering that she once enjoyed the wine.
"Perhaps another time, I am afraid consuming alcohol tonight would only turn me into a horrid beast no one could suffer tomorrow, but thank you all the same." She walked past him, her shoulders low and her head lower. He had never seen the woman more dejected and alone.
Fletcher remained asleep as she walked or rather paced the length of the nursery. She had been feeling rigid, unwelcome feelings since being reintroduced to Severus Snape in September. She was happy to have received the opportunity to be involved with the research she had once been part of but felt rather torn in knowing that she inevitably fell into the same mind state she'd been in before. Not that she had ever really stopped loving Severus, it had been dormant in her being since she'd left him.
Every time she thought about the night she had left him, she wondered if she had decided to stay whether they would've been able to work things out. Then she remembered she would've had to talk about the abduction and also Julius before she was ready. It wasn't as if s true rekindling had happened. Severus had merely offered his home to a woman and child in need of solitude and comfort. It wasn't as if he'd said," Hermione, glad you've ditched your husband, why don't you come by my house for a good shag and then maybe you can become my mistress." She would have probably fainted if a sentence as that had ever left his lips. She feared it was obvious that she still loved him after all she had kissed him in his office while still very much attached to her husband, at least contractually.
At one in the morning, Hermione headed back to the kitchens to obtain another bottle. It would be another hour or so before Fletcher would wake for his late night feeding. If he hadn't cried by four a.m. he normally slept the night through. Having learned and memorized these things about her child made her believe she could someday be a good mother. AS it looked from that night, Fletcher wouldn't have a father so she would have to be both a good mother and father. She finished making a bottle and headed back to nursery to wait for Fletcher to awake.
Before going back up the stairs, she went to the library to find a book to occupy her mind while she waited. She preferred the lower library because of it's wider selection and controversial material. The door creaked loudly as she entered the library, the books seemed to sigh in relief as the creaking ceased. She made her way cautiously through the rows trying to make as little noise as possible as not to disturb the residents. She made her way to the home of most of the ailments and afflictions sections to look up Lycanthropy to gain more information on the mental state of werewolves and their actions. She had studied the werewolf for years but rather never learned much about their day to day struggles with the affliction only the week before the full moon. She opened one of the books and began reading about the month cycle of the werewolf and the different stages they went through during the time. The reading seemed useless as she wouldn't have to worry about living with a werewolf any longer. Fletcher had tested negative as a newborn and it had been lucky that they'd tested him because his blindness had been discovered then. She tucked the book back on the shelf and continued to search for something useful.
"Having trouble sleeping, Mrs. Hopkins?" She heard from behind her.
"It is Fletcher's feeding time, though he isn't awake yet." She replied facing the man behind the aisle.
"Yes, I find that he may very well be the only sleeping inhabitant of this house."
"Those dreams are going to slowly kill you, Severus, why not take a draught to ease them?" He sneered his lip and closed the book he happened to be reading. She saw he was reading about the habits of werewolves as well.
"The draughts do not endure." He replied, no sarcasm in his voice, only desperation. He sounded as though he had finally tried the potions, which had been a constant battle between them when they were living in the house together. Every night he would wake in terror, the grief and pain almost unbearable. Every night she would beg him to take the draught and every night he refused.
"I am sorry for mentioning it, then." She replied wrapping his borrowed robe around her tightly.
"It is merely a burden I bear and I assume there is always a reason for everything. Unfortunately, the bad times in our lives are repeated more often in our dreams than the good times." He was despondent.
"I wrote to Remus about something like that after school ended and then after Voldemort fell. He always said it was just my way of dealing with things, to dream of them I mean. I often dream about that night in the cellar. When Fletcher was born I dreamt of it because I had...sorry I am saying too much." She turned quickly from his gaze, not wanting to have a conversation four years in the making. She grabbed Fletchers bottle and walked swiftly out of the library. As if to sense his mothers state, Fletcher James began crying as loud as possible to signal his need. She practically flew up the stairs and to his side, out of breath and shaking. She gather the child from his unfamiliar crib to her familiar arms. She kissed his forehead and warmed him with her hands. After trying to feed him, she changed his nappy, then clothes, then rocked him gently back to sleep. She wondered if he had really sensed her need for a diversion, then placed him back in his crib and fell asleep herself.
