Chapter Nineteen

On most Sundays, the McGonagall family inhabited a pew six rows back on the epistle side of St. James' sanctuary. But this wasn't most Sundays.

Trailing her family toward the front row of seats, Hermione tried to focus on Severus's warm touch in the hollow of her spine and the welcome weight of their daughter in her arms instead of the pressing gazes of the rest of the congregation. Despite the way reporters like Rita Skeeter portrayed her, Hermione preferred life outside the limelight. It was one of the things that still made thoughts of returning more fully to the wizarding world turbulent at best. She was certain the minute her return to Hogwarts was publicized, as was required by the Board of Governors, the speculation over her extended absence from all things magical would expand like Fiendfyre until another controversy dispersed it. Her greatest fear was that she and Severus would be devoured by it before another target was found.

Whispers and murmured commentaries on her dress, Rose's diminutive size, and Severus' dignified stride trailed behind them like streamers on the fins of a kite. Hermione sighed, wishing she could somehow dissolve into the woodwork. At least here the scrutiny was curiosity-based instead of malicious. And it was to be expected given the positions foisted upon her at marriage—granddaughter of the kirk's pastor emeritus and niece of the currently serving minister. It was second nature for congregants to be a bit nosy when it came to the family of their shepherd... even those who were semi-regular visitors.

Reaching their assigned seats, Hermione handed Rose to Severus and slid in next to Minerva. She sat gingerly, wondering once again if she were overdoing the recovering mother routine. With only Narcissa's experience to draw from, and knowing every woman's experience differed, she worried she would slip up somehow—make some faux pas that would expose her duplicity and alert the Weasleys.

The Weasleys. Hermione involuntarily glanced across the aisle where Ginny and Draco were seated with Harry and Luna. Although Ginny had no contact with her family—and hadn't since she chose her love for the Malfoy heir over loyalty to the feud that had raged for decades—there was always a chance for reconciliation. Would blood ties prove stronger than the vow Severus had extracted from her when Rose's existence was revealed? Would she inadvertently allow something to slip in conversation with Harry or Luna that would cause one of them to question the validity of...

"We didn't have a choice, love," Severus murmured as he moved Rose to his shoulder.

Hermione groaned, and heat touched her cheeks. The bond they shared was such a gentle, constant shadow, she often forgot it existed—until Severus' thoughts breezed across her mind, hinting at his emotions. Given her state, hers were most likely shouting at him. "I know," she sighed. "I simply wish things were different."

The warmth from his hand against hers brought instantaneous comfort. His darkened irises offered hope and assurance as he held her gaze gently. "Draco and Ginevra are simply too entwined with our lives to exclude them from the circumstances surrounding this little rosebud's entrance into the family." He glanced over his shoulder at the couple seated behind them, his scowl deepening. "Much like his meddling parents."

Hermione chuckled as she placed a bit of white linen over her husband's shoulder. "And you wouldn't have them any other way."

"Sometimes I think I might like to try," he groused as he repositioned their daughter so any accidental discharge was caught by the flannel and not his best suit.

"Which is why you refuse to let anything, save the threat of world annihilation, interfere with the weekly gossip session disguised as a chess match."

He leaned close—his arched eyebrow the only warning offered—and assaulted her senses with his subtly delicious scent. Then his breath ghosted a path to her ear as he intensified his attack. "It's a good thing we are in church, my darling wife," he growled. "For if we were anywhere other than this holy sanctuary, I can assure you, witch, you would pay dearly for your cheek. As it stands..."

Ill-prepared as she was for the sensory blitz Severus employed in retribution for the remark, her brain attempted to form the words of protest, but her heart refused to lodge them. When it came to her husband, she was simply a lost cause. He pressed his lips to hers, lingering long enough to further quell her resolve without being inappropriate for the setting. Still, it made her shiver and wish for the privacy of their bedroom at the cottage. Or better yet, their own residence in London.

She cupped his cheek as he drew away. Gazing into the endless blackness of his eyes, she caught sight of his eternal devotion shimmering amongst the strands of amusement in their depths. The intensity slammed into her gut and urged the words past her lips without conscious thought to time, place, or company. "I love you, Severus Snape." She dragged the pad of her thumb slowly across his lips, removing the faint dusty pink stain of her lipstick. "Beyond all reason."

His mouth curled into the gentle smile reserved only for her. "Beyond all measure," he murmured, then pressed a kiss to her thumb. "Always."

Around them, the world chugged on., but in the cocoon of their bond, surrounded by its strength, nothing existed. No congregation of well-wishers. No friends or family. No threats. Only the two of them, safe from—

A tiny whimper of protest intruded, shattering the moment. Hermione chuckled and dropped her hand to the curve of her daughter's head. "Do I detect the fragrance of jealousy from our little rosebud?"

Severus grinned. "Never." He shifted his grip on the tiny girl, freeing his right arm. Settling a little more comfortably into corner of the worn wooden pew, he stretched it along the rounded top behind Hermione and casually curled his fingers toward her upper arm. "There is no room for such emotion when one is confident she is loved and treasured above all things." The tips of his fingers started a subtle glide against the burnished orange fabric if her autumn-inspired dress, extracting a delicious pucker from the flesh beneath and a heated shiver from her spine. "And in this, I will make sure my girls suffer no doubts."

"How very reassuring."

Lucius' cultured drawl, delivered as it was from the space directly over their shoulders, startled Hermione. She flinched and discreetly attempted to distance herself slightly from her husband. But Severus would have none of it. He tightened his grip on her upper arm until she stilled. Only once she was settled back against his side did he turn his glare on Rose's godfather. "So glad you approve, Lucius."

The blond aristocrat smirked and reached to retrieve the precious bundle resting on Severus' shoulder. "Of course I approve, man." He settled the infant into the crook of his arm and grinned at her contented gurgles. The Malfoy patriarch was clearly as besotted with the tiny girl as they were. "And I would gladly extol the virtues of your protective nature ad nauseum if our attention was not needed elsewhere." He nodded toward the front where old Mrs. MacTavish was approaching the lectern. "It appears we are beginning."

Whether we are ready or not, Hermione mused, swallowing against the sudden surge of nausea. Dear God, let us be ready.