Chapter 17

True to form, Molly was not happy with the unnamed “old” Hogwarts friend, and her next letter was very demanding.

Hermione tried again to appeal to her need to distance herself from Ron’s home and family.

During the day, they worked on the potion and a few others as they waited for the results. Each night the potion was a different color, and so far it matched the desired results. Some evenings, they went to the Shrieking Shack, and Hermione and Severus worked on physical therapy from a book she’d gotten on a quick trip into Hogsmeade two days after the potion was started.

Severus would lie on the rug before the fireplace, and Hermione would manipulate the leg muscles. Eventually, he was able to raise his own leg in a series of lifts with weight added. She worked his fingers manually for several weeks before he managed some muscle twitches on his own, but he was amazed at the results they had gotten. He still had no control of his fingers, but they did move when he focused. His limp had improved a lot, which helped lessen the pain he sometimes felt in his back.

They went into the magical garden to soak up some sun and have picnics. Severus taught Hermione about each of the hundreds of plants that grew there—how to harvest and prepare them for potion ingredients. He also taught her to cook. And when the fresh vegetables started to grow, they harvested them, and their diets improved greatly. Severus was even regaining some color in his face.

Hermione was getting notes from Molly nearly every day. The woman was relentless and continued to question Hermione’s whereabouts.

Severus knew it was only a matter of time before she would track them down and send someone to see to Hermione’s safety. Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade several times for minor but important ingredients, and he knew that news would slip out. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to send an Auror to Hogwarts to look for her. Molly probably thought some Death Eater still at large had her. The woman just could not see that Hermione was happier away from her former life.

Twenty-three days into the potion, a storm hit. It was not only a storm of wind and snow but also of freezing ice. The sound of it was horrendous, and they sat in the bed clutching each other for comfort. They could hear more of the battered castle falling in on itself.

Severus shouted over the noise, “This is the third storm like this since I came here.”

“How did you stand it alone? I’d be going crazy,” Hermione said.

“I tried to use my Occulmency to block it out. I found the castle noises to be like death over and over. In my mind, I saw people falling on the battlefield every time something would crash in. I even felt Nagini’s fangs again. Both times, I woke curled in the fetal position in the tub."

Tears streamed from Hermione’s eyes as she listened to his story. The hell he must have been through. What kind of man was able to take who he was today with her and become the monster Voldemort had created him to be? Somehow Dumbledore had seen through it all. Somehow he had reached into the wretched creature and reanimated his dead heart. She continued to cling to Severus as much for him as for herself, and she finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

Severus held her close, listening to her breathing. The storm had been such an ordeal that he’d somehow caught bits and pieces of her thoughts and her terror. He could not fathom her ability to love him. He knew she loved him, though she had never said those words. Somehow they had become bonded even without the ceremony to make him her Master or her husband. Would she welcome that bond when he told her? He did not share with her the terror he lived with, of someone coming to “liberate” her, taking her away from him. Who would it be? Lupin and Tonks, Molly, or Harry? As the wind finally died down, he fell asleep, but his dreams were punctuated by his terrors.

They spent two days using their wands to clear the debris from the corridors and trying to repair the worst with Reparo. At the end of the second day, they added the last ingredient to the potion. For the next six days, it would be mostly on its own with a little monitoring. The color now was blue.

That night Severus took Hermione to the enchanted garden, and he surprised her by cooking her dinner on a small barbeque. He had laid a beautiful table and chosen an excellent wine. Small fairies fluttered to and fro, singing a soft, gentle tune.

There were lightning bugs sending a gently glow around them. When dinner was done, he took her hand. With a flick of his wand, she wore a dress close to the one she’d worn at the Yule ball—but a bit more adult and revealing. She raised an eyebrow at him, but when he’d transformed his own robes she took the hand he offered, and they danced to music that seemed to come from the flowers around them. She did not ask how he’d done it all. She accepted the magical night and relaxed into his arms, knowing there was no place else she would rather be. They danced for an hour, and then he led her back to their rooms.

He drew her a bath, and she found it full of iridescent bubbles. When she got out of the tub, she found a shimmering, blue gown; it was the most beautiful thing she had even seen. She came out of the bathroom to find that Severus had lit at least 30 candles spaced out all over the room. There were rose petals on the bed, and she felt her heart beginning to pound in her chest. He was dressed only in black silk pajama bottoms. “Severus?” she whispered.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Hermione, and you have given me so much. You deserve all that you desire, and I have come to realize that I do not need to be so involved physically to enjoy you just as you are.”

He took her lips and kissed her until she was breathless. She buried her fingers in his hair as his lips lowered to her breast. He teased her nipple through the fabric and then used his good hand to slowly pull the strap down and reveal a taut, pink nipple. They moved back to the bed, and Hermione let the gown fall to the floor and crawled in. Severus followed as best he could with her helping him.

She tried to divest him of his pajama bottoms, but he let her know he did not feel comfortable. She laid back and let her senses go as he touched and tasted and caressed every part of her. As she felt herself reaching a peak she cried out, “Severus, join my mind, please. I want you to feel how much I love you.” Instantly he was there. They were one, and she felt him as he felt her. She cried out her pleasure, and he echoed her. Severus spent another hour pleasuring her. Finally sated, she slept.

Severus felt so overwhelmed that he cried. So unused to feeling and experiencing such love, he could not contain the emotion that was erupting from him. He’d never been loved this deeply before. Dumbledore had loved him like a son, but the bond he and Hermione had forged in a little over a month had altered his entire outlook on life. He had a reason to go on. He had to face this future—a new world with new possibilities—for not only the wizarding world but also for himself as well. He’d always expected to die, and he’d never even considered life after Voldemort.

With some effort, he stuffed the feelings behind a wall in his mind. Now that was familiar. He’d always lived behind this wall. It was his security and strength. He fell asleep wondering how he could learn to accept the emotions without feeling like he was going to fly apart.