Carry My Love

Gringotts Prompt Bank;

Words to use Instead of Said; whispered, asked, smiled, confirmed, giggled

Prompt used; (object) a wardrobe

Snow covered the ground, a cold chill in the walls and a haunting silence in the air. The room adjacent was empty, a stark reminder of the start of the holiday season. He had never much missed the endless chatter, but lately it had become a necessary distraction. Christmas loomed like the shadow of a mountain over a small village, with none of the light and hope that it often brought.

Hermione had become unreachable, but always floating in his peripheral like a frightened apparition. He wished that she would come close enough that the smell of her shampoo would ensnare his senses, or run his fingers though the tangled mess of curls. Yet each time he reached for her, she seemed to vanish from his sight. To combat this, he had taken to bribing Ginny Weasley for updates on the girl. He understood, but this separation was more than painful, and he didn't know what more to do. He left notes in hard to reach places, he watched her from a far and always was on his own patrolling duty after the last incident. Even then, nothing worked.

Minerva had not been happy about the Head Boy being beaten to a pulp, yet she didn't question the boy when said he had been jumped when at Hogsmead and wished to withdraw from his position as Head Boy as it was "Drawing to much attention to him." And while Dennis Creevey had jumped at the chance to fill the position of Head Boy, Hermione had still not come back out of her shell.

He would have preferred it if Blaise was drawn and quartered, but England had outlawed that centuries ago, and he knew it wouldn't help resolve the issue between them.

She couldn't forgive herself for what had transpired, and he suspected she couldn't believe that he found her blameless. She needed something, or someone, so he had been working on a solution during this time.

Now all he had to do is get close enough to tell her.

Sighing into the chair, he flicked his hand and a soft tune started on the gramophone sitting on the small wardrobe in his room.

Slowly the music started, as if the singer was there beside him; softly calling out to her lover as he went away over seas. In his minds eye he could see her, stretching out her hands until her fingertips no longer touched his, a strong sea breeze making the fabric of her skirts waver and almost lift her into the air. The swell of the ocean spray rising against the high wall, gently landing on her skin but not making her cold as tears of bittersweet goodbyes welling in her eyes. Likewise, her young sailor reaching out as his ship moved farther and farther from land, the image of his sweetheart fading with each passing moment, while the smell of her perfume lingered on his collar.

Snapping his fingers, it stopped, wiping his eyes as he stood, the light fabric of his robe falling past his knees. The moon was high, shining down through the window, illuminating every scar as they lay on his bare torso, moving gently with each breath he took, running up to the faint lines the remained on his neck.

She would be out on her rounds about now, regardless of the holiday, her hair kissed by the same moonlight, her smile basking in it's glow.

If I reach out, he thought, extending his hand to the soft light, will she know?

Shutting his eyes, he willed his spirit to call to her – and she to him.

As he walked, he did not feel rushed or panicked, nor did he wonder as to her location.

Lace of her nightdress dragged softly on the stone floor, with it the chains dragging behind her, with most insidious noises. "Baron?" She asked, lifting her head as she turned, looking at the ghost as he dragged his chains behind her. "Why are you following me?" The ghost said nothing, but he gave her a sorrowful stare for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to send her a message, before disappearing into the moonlight as it trickled down. "Ghosts." She muttered, turning back to her path, pulling the robes tighter across her chest.

She had thought that spending Christmas away from her family was hard during the war, but she had expected to have them back by now, cured. Safe. But not all the death eaters had been caught, nor their families. Supporters of the Dark Lord still existed, and several had tried to attack Harry and Ron while they were on assignment. They wrote her letters, telling her all about it. When the boy had caught her off guard while on patrol, daydreaming about Severus, the first person she had wanted to talk to was Severus. When Blaise had violated her, the first person she wanted was Severus.

She felt like she had betrayed him, and her family. Forgotten were her parents in Australia. It was wrong, the right thing had been out of reach all her life.

Hermione felt a chill run through her as she stopped to watch the moon. One of her favorite past times while on the run. The moon, while ever changing, was the one constant part of her life before Severus. It always filled her with a sense of purpose and renewal, tonight it was more like a ghost.

Unthinking she reached out for it, shutting her eyes as the insecurities and guilt faded for a moment. The warmth of the moonlight made her fingers tingle, her lips open; parted as if to speak his name.

Severus, can you hear me? She wondered, keeping her eyes shut – as if her fingers could only reach for him in darkness. Gently, slowly, a warmth touched her fingers, slowly lowering on the back of her hand, feather like weight lowering onto her outstretched arm, bleeding in-between her fingers, and around her waist.

"Severus." She whispered, resisting the urge to lean back into his strength.

"Shh." He whispered in kind, and they stood there for a moment – basking in the soft light of the moon. Slowly he moved her, after a time, turning to pull her into a position she only knew from one other occasion.

His hand around her waist, his chin pressed lightly against her head as he hummed a soft tune; letting it buzz in brain, making her knees feel weak. It was so simple, dancing while others were dreaming, his smell, his warmth against the chill in these old castle walls, or the tender way her held her.

Yet the grief was weight dragging her wrists down, a thick cloud had embraced her soul.

"I -" She whispered, feeling the stiffening of his muscles at her words.

"Just," He drawled, "-a moment longer."

"I'm sorry." She babbled, her eyes filling with tears, "I've missed you so much, but I can't – I'm not…good enough…anymore." Their movement stopped, but she did not release him as the tears bubbled up. "How can you still want me, how can you be so forgiving after what I did – and you could have lost your job-

"Hermione," His voice was calm and soothing, drawing her frustration, anger and sorrow into himself. "There is nothing to forgive, on either side. I did not touch Blaise, and you did not cheat on me."

"There is something," Clearing her throat, she could feel herself tremble but she knew she had to say it. "A part of me wanted it, enjoyed it." Dipping her head down, biting her lower lip to try to keep from talking. "But when it all happened, it was your name on my lips – I was desperate for you. Another man was touching me and all I knew, all I wanted was for it to be you. But I didn't stop him, I froze -"

"Granger," He growled, lifting her chin slowly. "Where the reality may be that you feel guilt, the blame lies with Zabini, and him alone. Forgive yourself," He expression was sobering, but sorrow lay behind that powerful gaze. "If you need time, I can give you that." The strong drawl shifted, into the softest utterance, "I can give you all that you need." She could feel the pang within her heart, the weakness in her knees and she could hear the clanking of the Baron's chains as he watched from nearby as an omen. "However, before you make your final decision; will you do one thing with me?"

"Yes," The answer was immediate, her heart speaking for her.

"Spend Christmas Day with me," The offer was, in part, entirely selfish. Christmas was always a bleak holiday for him, and he desperately wanted to make new memories. "I shall show you wonders, you've never dreamed."

"Of course I will." She smiled, allowing herself to forget, for a moment, the chains she carried.

"Dance with me," His deep voice drawled into her ear as he held her, "My love."

It was the small of fresh pine needles amid the furnace that was his bedding that woke her mingled with the sounds of crinkling paper. It was strange, how the smallest change of atmosphere had changed her perspective immensely, more than she had expected. Nightmares haunted her no longer, and each moment she could be near him dispelled any signs of grief or guilt.

And today, best of all, was Christmas.

They had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning decorating a tree with all ornaments they had made themselves. Severus had severe struck her as a Christmas person, but beneath that somber expression was a man who enjoyed each individual moment. Picking out a tree, or transfiguring it, putting up Christmas lights and hanging the ornaments. He had hot chocolate and peppermint, and enough blankets to build a fort out of.

But the part that made her smile was how he wrapped presents, like he created potions. He was meticulous, but creative. She had teased him that he could have been a Hufflepuff with those wrapping skills, which made him smile. But the bed made of blankets though, was the best out of the evening. It was soft and comfortable, letting her fall asleep each night without meaning to, just enjoying the feeling of family that was omitted between them.

"You aren't supposed to shake them before opening them," She uttered with a yawn and a stretch, "Peaking is cheating, didn't you know that."

"I don't peaking," Severus replied, sitting himself on the edge of the makeshift bed, passing her a steaming cup of Christmas cheer when she was in an upright position. Leaning slightly forward, he pulled a small box from a branch, tossing it on the blankets beside her.

"I never saw you wrap this one." She stated, eyeing it curiously.

"Open it." His tone was stern, and she smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

Placing the cup down, Hermione, found herself rushing to unwrap the small item like a child. Flipping the lid of the velvet box with no hesitation, she blinked in surprise. It was a tiny potion, attached to a necklace. "Is it?"

"Amortentia." He confirmed, not glancing over.

"Why?" She asked, perfectly bewildered.

"To carry my love around with you." Was his articulate reply, and she felt the heat on her cheeks stem from the perfectly absurd notion that Severus Snape was a hopeless romantic.

She giggled, "You could have just gotten…" Something caught the light, making her eyes dart to it as it it hung down like a spider's web, a little ring hung from the tree with care. "A ring."

Silence

"You are going to propose, aren't you?" She asked, wiggling her way into his arms.

"That depends, Miss Granger," He drawled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she gave him a quizzical look. "On if you say yes."