Part One

Disclaimer: It's not mine and never will be. :)

A/N: This drabble series was inspired by the "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar" challenge. My thanks to the lovely ladies at the gs100 for their support.

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“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird…” Hermione sang softly, cradling the infant in her arms. Her ten-month-old daughter gurgled softly, her head becoming heavy on her mother’s shoulder. Hermione continued to rock the baby until she was sleeping soundly.

She laid her down in the crib gently, pulling a crimson covered blanket over her. Hermione put her hands on the railing and stared at her sleeping daughter. Her black hair, inherited from her father, was sleek and seemingly immune to summer’s humidity. Hermione put a freezing charm on the room to preserve the temperature, and walked out of the nursery down the hall.

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A light glow was emanating from her intended destination. She paused in the doorway of the emerald green room, smoothing her dressing gown. Still soft, she thought, running a hand across her stomach. She’d known that her firm figure would never be the same after childbirth, and, two children later, she was feeling the effects.

She looked up and gazed in the room, watching her husband and young son. Severus’ back was turned as he sat next to his son’s bed, reading him a story. Lucas’ eyes were drooping, his brown wavy locks grazing his eyebrow. He was almost out. Hermione turned and walked back down the hallway.

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She was sitting on a lounge chair in the sitting room when Severus walked in. She and her husband took turns putting each child to bed every night.

“Tomorrow, you get Lucas. He wanted three stories,” Severus said, sitting next to his wife, picking up a book.

“All you have to do is say no, you know,” Hermione said softly, perusing the pages of her own leather-bound novel.

Severus didn’t respond. Hermione knew that he was devoted to their children and spoiled them with love and affection. His own father had not been so benevolent with him.

She sighed and returned to her book.

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A few moments later, Severus looked up.

“How was Amelia?”

“Perfect,” Hermione said simply. “Went down like an angel.”

Severus grunted.

Hermione paused. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No,” he said curtly, not looking up.

Hermione sighed and returned to her book.

“Why do you want to discuss it?” he asked, sneering. “You are obviously uninterested.”

“Severus.” Hermione stared at him, exasperated. “When have I ever been uninterested?”

“Last night you were.”

“Last night it took me two hours to get Amelia to stop crying!”

“This isn’t about your exhaustion; it’s about the manner in which you refused me!”

And with that, he got up and stalked out.

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Tears sprung to Hermione’s eyes. They’d been married for five years, had two children – and she still had to walk on eggshells around him.

She knew that he had feared rejection, had been terrified it, and immediately shut off those who chose to treat him with disdain.

Like she had last night.

I’m a stupid woman, she thought, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. Why did I have to treat him like that?

Damn it to hell.

She couldn’t read, not when they were fighting like this.

She rose from her chair and followed her husband’s scent into their bedroom.

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