Severus leaned back against the headboard, staring unseeing across the room to where a strip of light shone under the bathroom door. The whistling of the shower pipes provided an orchestra to his thoughts, wondering how his life had managed to turn around so quickly. He had never intended to survive the war, and those first two years had found him lost as the wizarding world tried to rebuild itself. It was then he first saw Her in all her glory, raining down a defense on the Wizengamot which held a passion that even outshone Harry Potter's testimony. It was the first time he had ever allowed himself to truly see her, and his empty heart had soaked up the brilliance shining in her dainty little gestures like a sponge. Gone was the swotty little girl that had a good hand in making his life hell, and in her place was a woman that spoke like a goddess. For him. Merlin have mercy.
The two Aurors unshackled him and took a step back as a third presented his wand, the distrust clear on their faces even though he had just been found not guilty. The shiver that ran down his spine as the smooth wood slid across his palm was made all the more intense from the stuttering of his heart as he turned around and She was there waiting. Words flew from his mind as well as the ability to make a sound, but she had enough bravery for the both of them. Had he ever been hugged so tightly, arms flinging around his neck with a sweet little body pressing up against his own? He lurched forward, wincing as the movement caused the collar of his robe to shift against his scar. But gods, he would bear it all as long as she stayed right there, safe in this moment. His hands had just found her waist when she pulled back enough to look at him, the brilliant shine of her smile only out done by the rock on her finger.
Oh. Oh gods.
Not again.
On absolute instinct he did the only thing he knew how to do… he fled, as fast as his feet and then magic could carry him. Anywhere but here, anywhere but to face a damned cycle of fate that he couldn't manage to break. Was this what living had tortured him with?! There wasn't a piece of china left in Spinner's End when he was done with the place, sinking to his knees with his head in his hands when his voice became too hoarse from shouting curses at himself. A tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind that it wasn't too late, that an engagement wasn't truly a marriage, but despite what everyone thought of him he did have his morals. He had been able to breathe for a sweet moment in the fullness of his debt to Lily being fulfillled, only to fall headfirst into another obsession.
No. Not this time.
Minerva offered him any post of his choosing at Hogwarts according to his skills, but there were too many demons lingering in the shadows for him to return there. It was kind of her to want to make amends, and all things considered he couldn't hold her behavior against her - though at the time it had torn his heart in two to have someone he so respected turn on him. Hogwarts wasn't what he needed right now, though that didn't tell him what he needed for a replacement. Whenever he tried to think of what would make him fulfilled those cinnamon eyes would sparkle up at him from his memory, the soft pillows of her lips parting as they had just before he ran. To flee like that was a humiliation all unto itself, and he made a commitment not to even look at the Prophet for the next two weeks. All he could do was hope he had not tarnished her reputation beyond repair with his obvious longing, the way that rag liked to speculate. He needed to get away, leave Britain all together and clear his head.
And so he did, for a year and a handful of months he explored the world that had never seemed quite so large. Such a huge portion of his life had been tucked away within the walls of Hogwarts, first as a student, then professor, then the awful year as Headmaster. He still wished there was a way to go back and undo what he had done, to show the world there was more to him than the monster those students had seen him as. But Minerva was flourishing where he had faltered, and perhaps it was time to scrub his hands of the whole place. His duty was done, and for the first time in his life he was his own man. He never settled in one place for very long, though each stop seemed to bring about a new set of experiences. For the first four months he floundered terribly, a lack of social skills leaving him far behind where he supposedly should have been, but eventually he found his footing and even managed to make friends - temporary as they were. He didn't know if he would ever feel like a whole man, but he at least had a foundation to build the rest of his life on now.
Physically he looked very similar when he returned to Britain, the teaching robes abandoned for his formal frock coat perhaps. But there was a new light in his eyes and a self-confidence that had been sorely absent for the majority - well, pretty much all of his life. He had learned the way of the world as much as he cared to, but there was something that always drew him back to his home. Perhaps now he was simply ready for a chance to live in the world he had some small part in creating. By now the infamy surrounding Potter would have died down at least a little while, not to mention… well, life moved on. While he looked back on Granger's face in his memory every once in awhile, it was a small bittersweet twinge of what might have been instead of something that consumed him. Despite small evening conversations at Grimmauld before Dumbledore's death and her nearly constant hand waving, he knew now he didn't really know her. It would have been nice to, but that was as far as it went.
At least that was what he told himself before that day. He had just bought a small bookshop at the end of Diagon Alley, and was eager to make it in early to prepare for opening day. What he wasn't eager for was to be knocked heels over arse by someone running from the other direction. He was just about to tear into the person he had come nose to nose with when he realized just where he knew those cinnamon eyes from, and any argument died in his throat. "Hi…" The word was warm yet timid, hopeful yet hesitant, and he could hardly help it if his gaze dropped to her lips for just a moment. But they couldn't just lay in the middle of the street forever, no matter how much he wanted to hold on. People were starting to stare.
Pushing her off he got to his feet and cleared his throat, dusting himself off before two small hands grabbed at his forearm. For a split second his instincts from the war returned, but he forced himself to calm and remember the day was not yet ruined. "You're not going to run away again are you?" Ah, so if bodily harm wasn't enough she was going to resort to humiliation. Typical Gryffindor.
But… was she pouting?
Searching her face for any sign of malice but finding none he finally remembered his manners and cleared his throat again, this time for nerves more than anything. "My apologies, Mrs. Weasley… Are you alright?" He couldn't decipher the strange look she gave him, before she said yes and took her time reaching up to push some of the hair back from her face.
No ring. How interesting.
"I suppose you haven't been back for very long if you haven't heard." She glanced around, cheeks beginning to color as a group of busybodies clustered a bit further down the road staring at them and whispering. Severus could feel old tensions rising and he took her arm firmly, unlocking the door to his shop with a wave of his wand. Whatever was going on here, it was likely she needed an escape more than he did for once. "Heard?" He quirked a brow at her and began setting things to rights, trying to focus on what he was doing as she started to explain.
It had been four months into their marriage when she discovered the young man had been… returning to old stomping grounds, as it were. She admitted that she had accepted him having mistresses since he certainly wasn't getting any from her, and then it was Severus' turn to feel his face warm. But once the papers had come out that Miss Brown was carrying his first child, and Hermione Granger wasn't… the break hadn't been pretty but at least it had been quick. He wasn't necessarily surprised that Potter had sided with his boyhood sidekick over the woman, but disappointed was definitely on the table. The wizarding world in Britain - especially now that they were post war - was all about carrying on for the next generation. He had to wonder how the girl had managed her own frustrations for so long, but he didn't dare ask anything like that.
"And what of yours?" Her smile had softened at the simple question, and he was taken aback by the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Did se he had had to go and muck things up, though before he could offer more apologies she was questioning him in return. "Do you know that in all this time you're the first person to ask me that? As much as it would be nice, I can't claim innocence either, though. Ron deserved to feel… desired, though the way he went about it was disgraceful. I shouldn't have married him when I really wanted..." She broke off before finishing that thought, and he told himself that he was just projecting the hope in her eyes. It was easy enough to direct the conversation to safer waters - he certainly didn't want to be anyone's rebound. But as morning bled into afternoon, he relaxed into the surety she wasn't trying to lure him in with any false pretenses. It just wasn't in her nature, really, despite the false hopes of a marriage built up by everyone else.
So when she did leave to continue with her shopping, it was with plans to return for tea just before the weekend. That in turn led to dinner the next Wednesday, which as months flew by blossomed into something he never thought it would be possible to hope for. A year later she not only shared his home and his bed, but her research was thriving with the tomes he was able to secure. The day she walked out of the Ministry had been one of the happiest of their lives, considering the harassment she received from her superiors about her new state of living. Divorce was one an incredibly rare thing here, but living with someone unmarried - living with him, despite the fact he'd been given an innocent verdict - had pushed her over the edge in their eyes.
He was all too happy to tell them that day just where they could shove their opinions.
As the shower shut off he turned his attention back to the present and the door off to his right, a small smile rising unbidden to his lips as she appeared in the doorway clad in an undershirt and those sweet little pink shorts he had grown so fond of. The bathroom light behind her cast shadows along her skin, reminding him of an angel as it haloed around that insufferable hair of hers. "What are you thinking about?" She smiled seeing his book was still open to the page it had been on when she first went to get ready for bed. Leaning over to kiss her he shook his head in wonder when they broke apart. "Ronald Weasley was an idiot."
She blinked a few times to let the idea process, then started to laugh as she laid her head on his chest. While her friendships with the rest of the Weasleys and the Potters had never truly recovered, she told him time and time again that she didn't hold any bitterness against them. "No, I don't think so…" Tilting her head back she gave him that gaze that took the wind right out of his chest, just like the first time she told him she loved him.
"He just wasn't you."
