And here's Chapter 2! Enjoy :)
Chapter 2
The next morning, Hermione awoke to a bed that seemed even colder and emptier than it had the night before. She rolled out of bed with a groan at the nausea that rose up within her at the movement, and she rushed to the bathroom to empty her stomach into the toilet. She straightened to examine her face in the mirror and groaned again at her pale face and the bruise-like smudges under her eyes. It was going to be a long day.
A quick potion for hangovers and a bit of makeup to conceal most of her sickly appearance had Hermione in the Great Hall for breakfast as usual, tentatively eating pancakes as she chatted a bit with Minerva, who had taken over as Headmistress after the war, about her classes for the day. The seat beside her remained empty for the meal, a constant reminder of the previous day, and after a short time, she removed herself from breakfast to spend some time alone in the library to think before classes began.
The wind howled outside the windows of the Transfiguration classroom later that afternoon as Hermione taught her third year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students how to transfigure a teapot into a tortoise. So far, no one had been able to manage the task that had been part of Hermione's own third year Transfiguration exam. She almost smiled as she thought of the frustration that she had caused her fellow classmates by wondering whether her tortoise looked a bit more like a turtle.
"Mr. Waterman," she called to one of her brightest Ravenclaw students as the class filed out of the room at the end of the lesson. His friends lingered at the door as the boy approached her desk obediently. "Go on, boys. He'll be right behind you."
As the three Ravenclaw boys left the room, Chase Waterman gave her a slightly bewildered look. He piped up, "Yes, Professor?"
Hermione sighed quietly and ran a hand through her bushy hair. "Do you know if Potions classes are being held today?"
The boy shot her another confused look as he replied slowly, "No, the note on the door said that Professor Snape was out and wouldn't be holding classes today. Professor Sprout cancelled her classes too, because of the blizzard and all. Wouldn't you know about Potions though, since you're –"
"Of course," Hermione lied smoothly. "Professor Snape isn't feeling very well today and I wanted to check to make sure that he wasn't sneaking out on me and teaching his classes anyway." She threw in a smile as well to make her lie look convincing.
"Of course," the Ravenclaw echoed, returning the smile awkwardly and clutching his textbook to his chest a little bit tighter. Hermione dismissed him with a wave of her hand and he scurried out the door in pursuit of his friends.
As soon as he was gone and the door was shut behind him, Hermione buried her face into her hands. The silence in the classroom over the next few hours was broken only by the sound of windowpanes rattling in response to the blizzard raging outside the castle.
oOoOo
The next few days passed in a similar fashion. Hermione woke up, made herself presentable, taught her classes, and retreated to her quarters to curl up on the couch with a tall glass of firewhiskey and a thick book to take her mind off Severus. Her husband was still missing, but she was at least reassured that he had yet to contact her to arrange a time to gather his clothing and belongings and that his classes were still cancelled, meaning he wasn't in the castle and just blatantly ignoring her.
Minerva was also confused about his absence, and had appeared at Hermione's door the first night to see if anything was wrong. Hermione had been completely honest and imparted her lack of knowledge about Severus' whereabouts and her painful suspicion that he had walked out on her. Hermione had been good about keeping her emotions under control until the usually strict Headmistress had pulled her into a tight hug.
The woman had appeared at her door without fail over the last few nights, even if just to take a seat in the armchair next to the fire and bury her nose in a thick Transfiguration tome. So when the knock sounded on the door that night, Hermione already had a glass of fine elf-made wine sitting on the table waiting.
Like the last few nights, Minerva gratefully accepted the wine and began reading in the armchair. After a few minutes, however, she marked her page and looked up.
"Have you heard . . . anything, my dear?" the older witch asked gently, hesitantly. When Hermione clenched her jaw and shook her head, fingers tightening slightly on the glass of alcohol, Minerva pressed on, "The students are beginning to ask what has happened."
Hermione finally looked up, her eyes beginning to shine softly in the reflection of the firelight. "I've been telling them that he's sick, and that he'll return when he feels better."
Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "I figured that was the likely story. I'm really not so worried about his return. I'm a lot more worried about you, Hermione. How are you holding up?"
"I'm managing, I think," Hermione answered honestly, closing her book and setting it beside her on the couch. She took a quick sip of firewhiskey. "I keep waiting for him to show up and demand back his things or even just ask for his ring back, but he never does." She twirled the ring on her finger absentmindedly.
"Have you thought about possibly reaching out to him instead? Surely you want to know he's safe?"
"Of course I do. I can't stop thinking about where he is – what he's doing. And maybe I'm being a bit too proud, but I won't be the one to break the silence. He left. He walked out. And I'm just left here thinking about what I should have done differently that would have made him stay." Another sip of firewhiskey.
Minerva looked into the fire and took a sip of wine herself. "Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding, Hermione. Severus certainly is sullen and brooding much of the time, but he is also fiercely loyal. This doesn't make any sense to me, and I'm sure it makes even less sense to you."
Hermione began crying softly as she mumbled, "I think he finally got over me. He finally got up the nerve to leave. And I'm just left here feeling so – so heartbroken." She sobbed quietly.
The Headmistress stood from the armchair and resettled beside Hermione on the couch, rubbing the crying girl's back soothingly. "I know, I know," she murmured. "I know how it feels, like someone's reached in and rearranged your insides all wrong. And you feel so broken inside, so ready to fall apart at any moment."
Hermione was sobbing so hard that she was taking deep, gasping breaths, tears running unchecked down her face. "It feels like I can't breathe all the time, like a weight has been put on my chest and is crushing my lungs. I can't breathe without him here. He's my air, Minerva, my air."
"I know, dear, I know. Just keep talking to me." She pulled Hermione's head into her lap and began stroking her hair.
"I don't know how to do this without him," Hermione choked out, her heaving sobs interrupting her words.
Minerva continued stroking Hermione's hair soothingly and silently cursed Severus Snape with all of her being.
oOoOo
The next day, the winter storm finally started to abate. The winds – although still strong – had decreased their intensity, and the snow was building up slower than it had been over the last few days. Professor Sprout had immediately jumped on the opportunity to resume her Herbology classes, and now was planning classes wherever she could fit them – even on a Saturday – in an attempt to catch her students up on the four days of missed class.
When Minerva left that night after their new evening routine, Hermione had consumed just enough firewhiskey to make her a little bit tipsy. She returned her glass to the kitchen, where she was sure the house elves would clean it at some point during the night. She grabbed a small apple and some crackers to enjoy on the sofa before bed.
However, just before she reached her usual seat on the sofa, the door to her quarters opened with a bang. Startled, she spun around to find her husband standing in the doorway, looking a bit worse for wear. The greasy hair that usually fell neatly around his face was windswept and chaotic, half-frozen and sticking out at odd angles. Bits of snow still rested atop his hair and in his eyebrows, slowly melting. Even his normally impeccable robes were rumpled slightly. He certainly had the appearance of a man who had just ventured through a blizzard.
"Severus?" Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper as she stared across the room at her prodigal husband. "I thought – I thought –"
Severus had yet to respond but rather reached into his robes and revealed a bouquet of twelve yellow roses, looking a bit smashed and worn themselves. Even as he held them, a few perfect yellow petals drifting to the floor by Severus' feet.
"Twelve . . ." – an entire rosebud detached from its stem and landed with a soft thud on the toe of the Potions Master's icy boot – "pardon, eleven roses for the lovely Mrs. Snape."
Hermione stared for one long moment before she felt something snap dangerously within her. Her voice was high and breathy when she hissed, "You run off to Merlin-knows-where for four days and the best you can do is return with some flowers? Who do you think you are – disappearing without a trace, without a note, without anything?"
The flowers were quickly thrust onto the countertop as Severus raised his hands in a display of innocence. "Wait, Hermione, I can explain – "
"Explain, my arse. I think your behavior explained enough. I have been sitting here for days, wondering where you are, who you're with, if you're safe. Do you have any idea what this was like for me? I was making excuses for you to Minerva and all of your students for the cancelled classes. And you come back here with – "
Severus cut across her quickly, his voice rising authoritatively. "I was in The Three Broomsticks. I wasn't off in London taking a holiday from you like you seem to have gotten it in your brilliant mind!"
"Oh, so you were with Rosmerta, as if that makes it any better? Good to know you're getting it on with someone right down the road whenever you're tired of me," Hermione sneered, tears beginning to blur her vision. She had been right all along.
"Rosmerta?" Severus asked incredulously, seeming almost hurt. "You think I'm cheating on you with Rosmerta? How could you think so little of me?"
Hermione looked unimpressed. "Well, she's pretty and flirty, not to mention doesn't bore you or irritate you with her Gryffindor tendencies daily. I wouldn't be surprised if she left her bedroom door unlocked at night either, if you know what I mean."
"I can't even fathom . . ." Severus trailed off, pausing for a moment. His voice was angry when he continued, "I went down to Hogsmeade to buy you flowers, Hermione! Not expecting the blizzard that hit that afternoon, I was forced to stay there in The Three Broomsticks until the storm lessened and I could make my way back to the castle. How dare you accuse me of arranging a trip away from the castle so that I could sleep with another woman!"
"Oh, no, Severus, you don't get to make some half-assed excuse for why you were stuck in Hogsmeade when I know very well that Rosmerta has a fully functioning Floo in her bar!"
"Perhaps it was fully functioning in the past, but I assure you it was broken when I was there. Rosmerta had arranged for it to be fixed Tuesday afternoon, but they were delayed by the blizzard. Besides, you should also know that you aren't able to just Floo into the castle from wherever you like. There are wards." His words were stern and taking on an almost condescending edge that raised Hermione's ire.
"And an owl?!" she shrieked, sounding very much like an owl as tears began to slip down her cheeks.
"I was not about to send an owl to the castle in that storm. As someone who advocated for better treatment of house elves, I had hoped that you would approve. And I do apologize for apparently misplacing my faith in the fact that my wife trusted me." His scowl was deep enough to disfigure his features.
Hermione backed away from him, stumbling slightly as she was hit by the full force of the alcohol she had consumed earlier that evening and the fight they were having.
Severus scoffed. "Are you drunk?"
She approached him quickly and angrily, getting as much in his face as their height difference would allow and jabbing a finger into his chest. She could feel the slight dampness of his shirt from the snow and the small shivers that ran through his body from the cold.
"You. Don't. Get. To. Do. This. Do you understand me? You don't get to do this to me – to mock me and blame this whole incident on me. Because you left. I'm the one who sat here in our home and waited for you to come back for four whole days while thinking the entire time that you had finally gotten sick of me and left, okay? So you don't get to blame this on me. Not this time." Hermione was sobbing for the second night in a row, and she swiftly turned away to wipe her tears.
"You thought I left you?"
"What would you have thought? If you were in my situation? What would you have thought?"
Severus was silent as she paced the living room frantically, only speaking up when she finally seemed to make up her mind and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the mantle.
"Where are you going?" His voice was quiet this time, resigned.
"Away. I can't do this with you. Not right now. So I need to go away." She threw the powder into the fire and yelled, "The Burrow!"
She was gone in a flash of green, leaving Severus standing alone in the kitchen with eleven yellow flowers.*
*Yellow flowers symbolize caring but also jealousy, and a bouquet of eleven roses shows that the receiver is truly and deeply loved
A bit more drama for you all.