Chapter 4

Somewhere deep inside,

Something's got a hold on you.

And it's pushing me aside,

See it stretch on forever.

Crowded House

Two years, eleven months and nineteen days

Severus strode down the main corridor of the Janus Thickney ward with long practiced resolution. Trial days were always painful, with no exceptions. Thanks to their close friendship with Hermione in the years prior, both the Weasley boy and Potter were kept abreast of upcoming tests and trials; as her husband, he could have cut that contact but the freckled idiot in particular usually had a few screws loose these days and Severus had no wish to resort to using defensive magic in the ward. Potter was less troublesome, though it still annoyed him to have to share his visiting hours.

By unspoken agreement, no one visited at the same time as Severus. Even on trial days, they stood outside while he checked in on his wife. That did not make the process any less frustrating.

Thanks to having had a hand in the creation of the current trial, Severus did not have to leave during the testing process, but that only worked in his favour if he had been able to arrange a replacement for his NEWT level students, which Minerva had vetoed. That was how he found himself walking towards the large group congregating outside of Hermione's closed door; Lavender was bustling between the group and the Healer's station, and it was only being amused at her harried, irritated features that stopped him from rolling his eyes when Ronald moved to the front of the small crowd. As usual, Potter emerged and laid a hand on his coworker's arm. Severus had never quite worked out whether it was in support or restraint, and his skin prickled instantly as he recalled the days when there had been four to ambush him, not two.

"Professor Snape," Harry said by way of a bland, polite greeting. Severus paused with his fingers on the door handle and inclined his head.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

There was some shuffling and growling in the group until Molly elbowed her way through with two bags hanging off her wrists. Severus groaned internally then fastened a faint smile on his face that widened into a grin when her youngest son scoffed.

"Hello dear," Molly said kindly, rising on her tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Good afternoon, Molly," he returned, staring at the bags. The Weasley matriarch huffed and started loading them into his arms.

"Oh, don't be so proud, Severus. They're all kept with good, proper stasis charms, a variation I made myself, as you well know. All of your favourites." Her chest puffed out with the natural pride of a woman that sincerely enjoyed taking on a motherly role to any person that she could get her hands on. The meals always embarrassed him – he lived at Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake! – but he knew that Hermione would have accepted them politely had their roles been reversed and so he looped the bags around his wrists.

"Thank you, Molly. Your efforts are appreciated, as always."

"Which is stiff-upper-lip speak for thanks for doing my work for me," Ron hissed from his mother's side. Molly promptly pushed him back into the group of Weasleys and Severus noted with satisfaction that Percy was able to get in a solid whack to the back of the boy's head.

Severus had never particularly bothered to understand why it was that Ron Weasley had never stopped treating him with all of the disdain that he himself would treat shite under his boots. He'd been similar ever since his first Potions class, though it had worsened since the day Hermione had swirled her signature next to his with a shaking hand that had, in all honesty, endeared her to Severus immensely. From that day, he'd made a vow to himself – one of his only, independent promises that he was free to make on his own – to take care of the woman that had willingly entered into such an arrangement with him. She had never complained, nor had she ever spoken a bad word to anyone about their situation. He himself had also never done such things, believing she was worthy of his respect after her steady acceptance of becoming Madam Snape; she had shown maturity beyond her years, and he had thanked her for it more than once during his more morose periods. Weasley was simply a rotting piece of baggage that came along with her; he could only hope that when she was cured, she would think twice before allowing the boy back into her life. If all of this was because he believed that he loved her, then she – and by extension, Severus – would never have any peace without firm action.

There had been nights not long after their 'wedding' (signing the papers whilst having afternoon tea in Albus' office) that he'd even swum into the dangerous waters of imagining their future. He hadn't initially expected to live past the end of the war, but there had been a night just a week after their nuptials that Hermione had walked shyly into his office and kick-started his desire to witness the triumph of the Light with of all the enthusiasm that she possessed.

…

1997

"Professor?"

Hermione stopped in the doorway, leaning against it slightly. Severus was at his desk, catching up on marking fourth year Defence essays that were growing more ridiculous by the letter. He snatched at the chance to put them off and removed his glasses, looking up at his wife who was watching him with a shy smile on her face. Leaning back in the chair, he gestured for her to take a seat.

"Good evening, Miss-"

"Hermione," she corrected with a small grin, reflecting their ongoing private, awkward battle to organise their boundaries and treatment of each other. He inclined his head, though his careful, blank expression did not change.

"Good evening, Hermione."

The rosy blush to her cheeks as he intentionally took his time with the vowels of her name was becoming, though he brushed it under the carpet. It was inappropriate; she may have been his wife, but she was his wife in name only and while they were on polite, almost friendly terms, he was determined to ensure that she felt safe when alone with him. And safe meant maintaining a respectful note to their fledging relationship.

Besides, she was seventeen and though she was a legal adult in the wizarding world, Hermione was still a student. His student no longer, as she had private lessons with the Headmaster now (which Severus actually gave her) to keep up the image of impartiality, but a student under his care all the same. He was not interested in letting his razor sharp focus slip even for one moment. There was a war to be won, after all.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as she sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. Under the cover of her school robes, she brought her feet up and tucked them under her legs.

"Oh, nothing really," she said, fidgeting with the hem of the robes. Her gaze was directed on her knees, though her eyes flashed up to his in one timid moment of directness. "I just thought… well…" She stopped, and on a whim, he rolled the office chair around until they were sitting side by side. The shocked look she gave him prompted him to smirk and turn his face away to hide a full and proper grin of amusement.

"Despite the rumours, I do not bite, wife," he said, attempting to be gentle but her fingers trembled for a moment and he instantly regretted his words, knowing that he probably sounded like a possessive git for referring to her by her title when he'd only intended to jest.

Her face was pink again when she looked up at him, her lips slightly parted. She wet them and he busied himself with making them tea for something to focus on instead of her mouth.

"No, of course you don't," she said into the air when he was handing her the cup and saucer. If she noticed that the china shook at her announcement, she wisely mentioned nothing.

Intrigued, he took a sip of tea and arched an eyebrow. "Not that I am not amenable to your presence, but I am curious as to what would make you… seek me out."

Hermione nodded slowly and bit her lower lip. He waved a hand to her teacup and watched her over the rim of his own. When she set her own steaming cup down, she sat straighter and fixed him with a full wattage smile; he would've spat out the tea in his mouth if he hadn't swallowed it down just seconds before. Severus coughed and attempted to look stern.

Her voice wavering slightly, she folded her hands together in her lap and said, "I'd like to hear your opinion on Master Ahlber's latest article in Potions Quarterly. I think it's quite insipid, myself; why use such a narrow focus for those particular flowers? And a foolish focus, at that? But I thought you might have a different opinion."

And not for the first time in his new wife's presence, Severus Snape was utterly dumbfounded by the lovely young witch who had decided that she wished to spend time not only in his presence, but in listening to his opinions. Gods, how long had it been since he had spoken with someone, instead of to someone? Even years prior at conferences, other Masters or Apprentices would only listen and nod politely to his theories, too wary of the sternly buttoned man to enter into a proper conversation with him.

He leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers. Their proximity was unnerving; she was closer to him when he arranged his long limbs in this way, and he realised that he didn't feel the slightest inch of discomfort coming from her. In fact, she angled her body to face him better and cradled her chin in her palm as if settling in.

Encouraged by her open invitation, Severus offered her a small, hesitant smile and studiously ignored the strange burn-like feeling in his chest when she returned it. His stomach must have disagreed with the cheesecake he'd taken a bite out of at dinner.

"Well, Hermione, I think you'll find that the dunderhead's theory is insipid, though I shall tell you the real reasons why…"

…

"Severus, dear? Did you hear me?"

He blinked and refocused on Molly, ignoring the sniggering of Ron and George. George he could look past, given he'd taken most of his ear off and he laughed at everything, but he sent a sharp glare to his younger brother.

"Forgive me, Molly – I was just thinking over the details of the trial."

"Of course. Lavender told us that it was administered at midday?"

He inclined his head. "Yes, the main Potion was due at midday; the draught to send her to sleep came after, followed by Apprentice Longbottom's concoctions designed to stimulate her mind and memory. It is my understanding that Healers specialising in dark curses have also been present to do the standard checks on her scars to confirm that there are no other curses residing in them. All of which we have done before, of course, but it always pays to-"

"Hang on a minute there Snape," Ron cut in, pushing his way to the front of the group again. "Are you telling me that you weren't even there? Are you so much of a coward that-"

With his last bit of patience shredded to dust, Severus took one, calculated step towards the boy, forcing him to tilt his chin in order to keep eye contact. His height was an advantage in times such as these, even more so when Bill came to stand beside his younger brother; he towered over them both.

Narrowing his eyes, he lowered his voice and said silkily, "I suggest you listen to your mother, boy, and give up while you are behind. I'll not have anyone treating my wife's ward as a playground because they were too stupid to learn even the most basic forms of human interaction. I will say this once, and never again: get out of my sight, or I will personally ensure that every single one of your visits with Madam Snape will be conducted under supervision. My supervision."

The idiot boy paled and spluttered, his face a furious shade of red. Severus pushed past him, uncaring of Molly's attempt to placate him and Arthur's weary sigh. If they couldn't control their children, then it was not his job to do it for them.

Upon entering her room, he nodded to Lavender and Longbottom, both of whom were standing in the corner of the room studying the magical charts that were hovering in the air before them. This was Neville's final project before attaining his Mastery in Herbology. Privately, Severus thought that even if it wasn't successful, the wizard deserved his certificate anyway, not that he would say it out loud. There would be time for that later, he decided, and he made a beeline for the thin, pale woman sleeping deeply in the bed in the middle of the room. The lilac bedspread had been drawn up to her shoulders, but her cheeks were close to being gaunt and the shadows under her eyes were more pronounced than ever.

Without taking his eyes off of her, he eased himself onto the mattress at her side and said to the other two in the room, "I did not believe the newer plants would be this taxing on her, Apprentice Longbottom. I've viewed the hourly reports you've sent me today, but why have you not mentioned…" His words failing him, he made a worn out gesture at his wife.

Lavender tutted in sympathy and approached Hermione then bent down and smoothed back a stray curl from her forehead. Severus looked down at his lap, struck by a strange wish that he had been the one to notice it, if only to feel her smooth skin under his fingertips.

Longbottom came next, coming to a stop at the foot of her bed. "This is all to be expected, Professor Snape. The side effects were detailed in-"

"All right, all right." He held up a hand, not wanting to draw more attention to the missed fact that Neville had probably sent him the information, but he'd been too wrapped up in his wife to really see it. "As long as this is not abnormal, then I am content with it. But, Ms. Brown, we must see that she is-"

"Fed with extra nutrients and calories," she finished his sentence softly, meeting his eyes over Hermione's still form. "We shall be sure to do so, sir. Remember that we are working as hard as you, to do our best for her. We're in this together."

Not knowing what else to say, he simply nodded and hummed in agreement.

…

Severus stayed at Hermione's side until the window in her room reflected the moon high in the sky. He'd missed dinner in the Great Hall yet again, though Poppy had elected to stay rather than accompany him so there was someone present to redirect Minerva's scrutiny.

The rest of the visitors came in once, trickling in then out again in under ten minutes. Molly wept, as usual, and Arthur merely stared dejectedly at the bed. Percy sat silently beside Severus for a few minutes after the rest of the family left, the Ministry employee putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering kind words before he, too, left the Potions Master in peace.

Lavender came in and out, though there was not much to see.

He hated being with Hermione when she was like this. His visit in the morning had been none too different from those in the earlier days when she had achieved no moments of comprehension at all. It had been rushed; he'd barely had enough time to greet her and hand her the new books for the week before needing to Apparate back to Hogwarts in time for lessons.

It was with regret that he realised now that Hermione had most likely gone to sleep without even remembering that she was married at all.

Not that theirs was even a marriage… but it still was, to him anyway. For all the insults tossed his way by old ex-hopefuls, Severus was an honourable man and he deeply respected his wife. Having felt undeserving of loving and being loved in return, he'd never examined his feelings further, but as he kept watch at her bedside, there was a sinking feeling in his heart that felt as if it were truly breaking. And all over this small witch lying so peacefully in her hospital bed.

The quiet creak of the door had him tensing again as he waited for another visitor to come in. Annoyed at the intrusion, he cleared his throat pointedly and turned, letting out a fatalistic exhalation upon coming face to face with Harry Potter. The young man's eyes were flitting from Hermione to Severus, his face a careful look of examination that made the older wizard grind his teeth.

"Come to see the show, Potter?" he sneered, his self-restraint shuffling out the door in time with each of Hermione's breaths. When Harry didn't speak, Severus swiveled back around in the chair to continue his vigil.

Truthfully, he'd let go of the old anger surrounding James Potter's son; the boy had managed to defeat Riddle, after all, and even if his own assistance generally went unacknowledged, he really couldn't be bothered to summon any more loathing than was already directed at himself anyway.

Finally, Harry moved further into the room and stood not far from where Severus was still sitting on the bed. "It's not often that I'm able-"

"I don't want to hear it," Severus said flatly. "Make your excuses to her when she is cured. I've had enough of the lot of you."

"I wasn't talking to you," Harry shot back in a quiet mutter. "Can you give me some privacy, here?"

His answer was an immediate, "No." To be frank, Severus could not find a damn to give at – he checked the Tempus that was quietly ticking away on the back wall – nine PM.

"Right, well… don't repeat anything I say to anyone."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time that day and ignored Harry until the younger wizard took another step closer to Hermione. Despite his genuine lack of interest in anything Harry Potter had to say, he still found himself listening when the young man drew in a deep breath and knelt to touch Hermione's hand.

"It's not… it's not often that I'm able to visit you, 'Mione, and I'm…" he looked back at Severus furtively, who was studying the ceiling. With a passive shrug, Harry continued on. "I'm sorry. I should have made more time over the years… I have my excuses, not that they are all that good… Auror training, and trying to come to terms with the mess that is this bloody country – sometimes I wonder whether it would have even been worth it to die for some of the people I meet with these days. It's… it's a bit of a worrying thought. No doubt you'd pinch my ear for thinking it. I can almost…" Again he paused and Severus found another place to stare at so the boy would keep going; it had been so long since anyone had truly spoken to Hermione as if she were worthy of their words. As if she had enough value to listen, the way she would have done before all of this mess began. He would never admit it to anyone but her, but his tolerance for the boy was grudgingly increasing.

"I can almost hear you speak most days, did you know that?" Harry raised his voice and between snorts of laughter, he mimicked the young witch, "'Harry James Potter! You know bloody well just who got you to the final confrontation, and you've barely even visited me in the past month!' I think that's pretty spot on. And I just heard a grunt out of your husband, so I reckon I'm not far off the mark. Don't let him kill us all for abandoning you when you come back to us, all right? He seems to really want to.

"Anyway… I'm getting married, Hermione. Ginny and I were always heading in that direction, I guess, but I asked her last night. You're the first person I've told. I bet Snape here feels pretty smug or maybe even just ticked off at being the second. I want a family, 'Mione. She's got to finish her Apprenticeship under the curse breakers first of course, but I hope that within the next five years… well, I hope you'll be an Aunty. And I hope that you'll be around to see it. I know you always said that you didn't want to shack up right out of school and have kids with Ron-"

Did she? I didn't know that…

"-but, well, when you wake up, you'll have a choice about all of that, won't you? I hope our kids will play together. I don't even think I'd mind if they came out with a hooked nose – ah. I want you to know that your husband just sent a stinging hex my way. Just, you know, for the record. I might have deserved it. But truly – I don't even care if you want to have kids with this cranky bugger. Just be around to make the choice.

"We all miss you… Gin does, but it's hard for her… she's trying to manage Ron and me at the same time. I keep telling her she'll fail at that; Ron's never been in his right mind when it comes to you. He's so possessive about you, even though he's got no right to be. No one's got any right to possess you, not unless you want them to, erm… right, moving on. Long story short: Ron's still a git, I'm still trying to mop up his messes and Snape's at his wit's end with him so it'd be best if you woke up and shipped us all into shape. Love you."

Severus was left staring into an empty room again as Harry sped out of the door without a second look. He fancied that the heat of the younger man's blush could still be felt in the room.

…

Much later, he was in bed in his chambers. Lavender had led him down to the Floos and pushed him into one, claiming that while she was allowed to stay up all night on her designated shift, he was certainly not. Nerves had kept him awake, and he was currently lying in bed with his eyes closed, going over each and every memory – even the most painful ones – that he had of the woman he could now acknowledge that he cared for.

It was stupid, really. It wasn't like she could ever return his feelings in her current state. Even if she was cured, what woman in her right mind would want him? She'd been forced into this marriage, and he wouldn't blame her if the first thing she did upon waking (if she ever did) was to send him divorce papers with her signature already on each page.

Which was why, when Lavender's face appeared in the fire of his bedroom at three thirty in the morning, he was torn between covering his body and burrowing into the bedcovers, willing her away, or stumbling to answer the call.

The second desire won out, and he was soon standing in front of the Healer's wide eyed and bobbing face.

"Professor," she said firmly, "I think you need to get yourself down here immediately."

Fear clenching and twisting his insides, he knelt down with a face as white as the walls around him. "Ms. Brown – Lavender, tell me that she is all right. Tell me that-"

"Stop, sir." She looked behind her, then back at him. He could hear the sounds of other people bustling around, the heightened activity unusual for the Healer's rooms so late at night. "Just come, right now."

"Should I call anyone? Her parents?" he croaked out, pulling clothes quickly out of the chest of drawers beside the bed. "Helen should know if she's deteriorated, buggering hell, she's probably at work, I don't know what to bloody well do-"

"Severus!" Lavender's use of his first name had him stopping his tirade from surprise. He turned to face the witch slowly, not understanding the small hint of a smile on her lips. The blood roared in his ears like a flood that had no hope of being contained by sandbags, and he dropped to his knees in front of the Healer again.

"Tell me," he begged, hating himself for wanting to cry but knowing that he would anyway if she even started to tell him that Hermione, his Hermione, his wife, was going to d-

"She's asking for you; for Severus Snape, her husband. She's awake."