Breathe

I climb, I slip, I fall

Reaching for your hands

But I lay here all alone

Sweating all your blood

If I could find out how

To make you listen now

Because I'm starving for you here

With my undying love

And I, I will

Breathe for love tomorrow

Cause there's no hope for today

Breathe for love tomorrow

Cause maybe there's another way.

~Paramore, "Breathe"

************

"God has nothing to do with it... or me," he spat nastily. "You should know that better than anyone."

At that, he turned and swiftly fled into the night, leaving her standing there in stunned silence, battered, bruised, cold, and terrified, her tears masked by the darkness and the rain.

Hermione stood there for moment, staring at the spot where he had disappeared into the darkness, her breath still coming fast and tremulous. "Enough of this," she said, fists clenching at her sides. "It ends tonight."

She strode purposefully after him, not really knowing which way he went, but shooting for the edge of the forest. He would probably try and return to his rooms as quickly as possible.

If he even makes it to the castle, the drunken sod, she thought harshly. Making her way swiftly but carefully, she was relieved when she finally saw the lights of the castle through the trees on the edge of the forest. As she stepped out onto the vast expanse of grass that led up to the castle, she stopped and surveyed the area around her. "Severus!" she called, not caring who heard her.

She moved forward slowly, arms wrapped around her freezing body, eyes roaming the darkness for any sign of him, ears alert for any sound. "Severus!!" she called again, louder this time, more desperate.

Nothing.

The only sounds were the violent sheets of rain whipping against the ground and the rolling thunder overhead. Damn you, Severus, she thought, why must you be so thick-headed?

Again, she took a few steps towards the castle. After a moment, she remembered her wand, which was still back in the forest. "Accio wand!" she called, extending her hand. After a moment or two, she felt the wet, slick wood slap against her palm. Closing her eyes in relief, she cast a nonverbal Lumos Maxima and tossed the shining orb into the air over her head where it bobbed and weaved, illuminating the area around her with soft, blue light. The orb followed her movements as she turned in place, searching.

For a third time, she drew in a breath to shout his name. As it was on the tip of her tongue, a dark shape, sprawled in the mud, came into the circle of her wand-light. "Oh no," she breathed, panic fluttering in her chest. She ran to his side, laying her wand on the ground as she pushed the lank, wet hair back from his face. By the glow of her floating light, she could see that his eyes were closed, and he was breathing shallowly. She sighed in relief when she could find no blood. She sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening – he was unconscious, but apparently unhurt.

Now that she had found him, she knew that they both needed to get inside as quickly as possible – hypothermia was not something she wanted to deal with right now. Picking her wand back up, she pointed it at Severus and whispered "Ennervate," watching as his body jolted and his eyes slowly opened.

He found her on her knees next to him, hands on his chest, eyes pleading with him to be alright. His own eyes closed again, and his head fell back into the wet grass. "Leave me be, you insufferable woman," he groaned, the malice gone from his voice as he attempted to roll away from her. Her hands on his arm stopped him.

"I don't think so. You're drunk, and if we both don't get inside – now - we're going to catch our deaths." She kept her hold on his arm – she wasn't going anywhere.

If she had not just been a first-hand witness to his overwhelming anger, – his rage – she might have felt pity for the man that lay before her. He now spoke in a voice that carried no threat... no malice... not even self-pity. It was hollow – emotionless and dead. "As if anyone would notice – or care – that I'm gone," he murmured.

She stared at him for a short moment before bowing her head. "I would," she said softly.

At this he huffed and turned back towards her, slowly lifting himself to rest shakily on one elbow. Her head lifted at his movement, and what Severus saw in her gaze broached no argument. Somewhere deep inside, the walls he had worked so hard to build cracked. Eyes filled with a new, more frightening emotion now searched hers, questioning... needing to know.

After a moment he spoke, his brow coming together. "Why?"

A pause as she drew a shaky breath. "Because I..." she began, but hesitated, her voice breaking. He slowly sat up straight, his eyes still locked on hers. She shuffled awkwardly on her knees and moved closer to him. The tears spilt over as he slowly reached out to cup her face in one wet, mud-streaked hand. With a sob, she grasped it to her and pressed her lips to the frigid skin of his palm.

"Hermione," he breathed, closing his own eyes at the feeling of her lips on his skin.

"Why, Severus? Why do you push me away?" she sobbed. "After everything? After–" The rest was left unsaid as he pulled her to him, holding her tightly against his chest. Arms that were soaking wet and freezing wrapped themselves around his neck, holding on like a drowning sailor to a life raft.

She was so cold. Her hair was dirty and plastered to her face; she had mud caked on her clothes and under her nails; she was shaking uncontrollably, and it wasn't just from the cold.

She was beautiful.

And he was a fool.

A stupid, drunken, self-pitying, irrational, heartless fool.

His thoughts were cut short as a peal of thunder cracked violently overhead. Hermione screamed involuntarily and trembled even harder. Holding her gently, he looked to the sky, and the rain beat down into his face as he whispered, "I agree with your earlier advisement."

With a nod of her head, she stood and then leaned down to grasp him under his arm. She helped him to his feet. He stood holding his head, swaying slightly. He offered no protest as she slipped his arm over her shoulders and headed them both towards the castle doors. She could feel him leaning on her, but only just.

They entered the castle and made their way to the dungeons, unnoticed and unscathed. As they came to the door to his office, Hermione leaned them against the wall, panting from the exertion.

Severus resisted the urge to simply slide down the wall and spend the night on the cold stone floor. With great effort, he flicked a hand in the direction of his door, silently disabling the wards. Hermione could tell it took a lot out of him for just that simple spell: the skin of his face drained of what little color it had, and his breathing came faster as he pressed his hands to his temples.

"Did it ever occur to you that you could simply have told me the password and I could have done that for you?" she said, pulling him away from the wall. She looked over to see him lift a muddy eyebrow at her. "Still enough strength to be snarky, I see." This got her a small, one-sided smile.

They passed through the office door and made their way to the far right-hand wall. "Severus, just tell me the password. You're exhausted; please don't waste what little strength you have left disabling wards." After a moment she felt him sag more heavily against her, a silent admission that she was right. He whispered something that Hermione didn't catch.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"Aislinn." There was a long pause, the only sound that of the water dripping from their clothing onto the stone floor. "The password is Aislinn."

She stared at him blankly. He looked to the floor, sorrow masking his face, his lack of sobriety bringing forth emotions she had not been witness to in a long time.

"Aislinn," she whispered, sending a wave of magic at the wall with her free hand as she watched him.

The door to his private rooms appeared in the stone, shimmering into existence like a mirage. She helped him through and led him to the large overstuffed sofa in front of the fireplace. With a squelch, she released him onto the sofa, and his head instantly lolled back. With a groan, he brought his hands up to once again grasp his face. "Incendio," she said, absently waving her hand at the hearth. Flames instantly sprang to life. Hermione could feel the strength seep from her bones the instant the spell left her lips. Her wandless magic was better when her emotions ran high, but that didn't make it any less tiring.

"I'll be right back," she told him, and made her way to the small kitchen off the main area, leaving a trail of water behind her. She quickly set about brewing a large pot of strong tea. When everything was in order, she went back to the sitting room. She stood for a moment in front of the blazing fire, staring into the embers and soaking up the warmth. When she looked over to Severus, she could see that he had started to shiver. Realizing that she had forgotten that they were both soaking wet and freezing, she quickly cast a slight warming charm on him, as it was all she could manage, and hurried to the large door at the back of the living space.

There were no wards here. She pushed open the door to his bedroom and walked across the plush rugs that covered the elegant hardwoods beneath. She went into his bathroom and turned on the shower, drawing back quickly as the hot water hit the cold skin of her hand. I just want to warm us up, not boil us, she thought.

After the taps were adjusted, she stripped out of her wet cloak, throwing it into a pile on the floor, followed by her sandals and pajama pants. She walked over to the porcelain sink and placed both hands on its cool surface. Her body leaned forward heavily, drained from the nights exertions. When she finally looked up, the steam from the shower had started to cloud the mirror, so she wiped away the moisture to get a better look at herself. She was filthy. Then again, so was he.

She shook her head at her reflection. "What am I doing? Do I... do I want to be here? Should I be here?"

Shaking her head to clear herself of the conflicting thoughts, she turned determinedly and strode back through the bedroom, in only her knickers and tanktop, to where Severus sat on the couch.

"Your turn," she said, reaching for his hands where they still covered his face. He let himself be pulled to his feet.

"My turn for what?" he slurred.

"We have to get warm," she said matter-of-factly as she led him through his bedroom and into the steam-filled bathroom. "I don't think I have enough strength left to cast another warming charm after that last one and the fire. Besides, we're both filthy." She sat him on the edge of the large marble tub and started to unbutton his cloak. He reached up and took her by the wrist. His grip held none of the ferocity that it had the last time.

"We?"

Sighing and pressing her lips into a thin line, she answered back, "Yes, 'we.' I don't trust you not to fall and break your neck."

One side of his mouth lifted as he snorted at her remark. She continued to look at him, her gaze and the firm set of her lips showing that she was serious.

It was then that he realized she was standing before him nearly naked. His eyes left her face and roved over her body: the curve of her hips, the pale sliver of stomach that could be seen between her knickers and tank top, the soft curve of her breasts. He released her wrist and slowly put his hands to her hips, pulling her closer to him, between his knees. Her steps were hesitant, but when she was close enough he pressed his forehead to her stomach and closed his eyes. The smooth up and down motion of his hands over her hips made her body tingle, and it was definitely not from the cold.

Even though he was exhausted, filthy, and under the influence of many, many shots of Firewhisky, Severus could not deny that he was quickly becoming aroused, again, with her pressed so close.

Hermione's face flushed as his hands ran up her back, under the wet fabric of her top. He placed a single, slow, soft kiss on her stomach, and her hands moved on their own, twining themselves in his wet hair.

Her eyes closed, and her head went back with the sensation of his lips on her skin. The irrational part of her mind screamed at him to move his mouth lower, begged him to slide his long, agile fingers underneath the edge of her now even wetter knickers. It wanted to feel him inside her, feel his skin against hers, his breath hot and ragged on her neck as they...

"Severus," she breathed as cold reality came crashing back.

"Hmm?" he replied between caresses.

"Let's get you out of these wet things."

"Mmmhmm."

She crinkled her brow in frustration, knowing that he had just misinterpreted her words. Gently, she pushed him away. His head fell back heavily, allowing her access to his muddy topcoat. She started to undo the first clasp, but her fingers were so numb that she couldn't get a proper hold. He gently pushed her hands away. "Let me," he said. He slowly ran one filthy hand down his front, and every button unhooked itself effortlessly.

"A little something I concocted. They," he tugged on his lapel, indicating the ebony buttons "can become tiresome." His hand dropped heavily back to his lap.

She gave him a tired smile and pushed the sopping wet garment back over his shoulders. After helping him pull his arms through the sleeves, she tossed the filthy clothing in the pile with her own cloak and pants. "Better?" she asked, rubbing his arms through his white undershirt.

"Mmm... some," he answered. He let his head fall forward again, this time pressing his cheek into her stomach.

By now, steam from the shower had filled most of the room, and her body was slowly starting to warm up. She shivered as she rubbed his arms – he was still ice-cold underneath the fabric. "I think this one may be ruined," she whispered, running the fingers of one hand along the part of his mud-stained collar that had been exposed when he leaned forward. Her fingers brushed against the fine hairs at the nape of his neck where his hair had fallen towards his face. A shiver ran through him, and she gasped as his hands suddenly grasped the backs of her thighs tightly.

He turned his face slowly into her stomach and pressed another light kiss just above her navel. She could feel the slight stubble from his cheek as it brushed over her skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he pulled her closer and placed another kiss lower on her abdomen, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. "Severus..." she whispered. Her hands came to his shoulders, and it took all the willpower she possessed to push him away again. "Severus, stop. Not like this."

He looked up, his hands still clasping her legs. "Not like what?"

Was that hurt she saw in his eyes, behind the liquor and the lust?

"Not like–" She sighed. "You're drunk. You don't really want this... me. You only think you do."

"Are a drunk man's words not a sober man's thoughts?" he returned. When she replied by again tightening her lips into a thin line, he dropped his hands, his head bowing in defeat.

His next words were muffled. "What was that? I didn't hear you," she said as she moved away from him to check the temperature of the water.

"I said, 'Do you even know what tonight is?'"

She let out a short, barking laugh as she walked past him to the cabinet, pulling out several clean, white towels. "Severus, I'm lucky to remember what my name is of late, much less the significance of a cold, stormy night in the middle of October..." Her voice trailed off.

She stood frozen... utterly silent for the span of several heartbeats before a low moan broke free, grief-stricken and hopeless. The towels fell to the floor as her hands clutched involuntarily at her abdomen.

The blood drained from her face as she remembered: the flashes of memory, the errant thoughts as she followed him through the rain, the inkling of... something... that had tapped at her mind since she first saw him that night.

She faltered, falling hard to her knees as the memory came slamming back to her, vivid and painful – the memory of a cold, rainy night in October, much like this one.

As soon as she hit the floor, Severus was at her side. In the back of her mind, Hermione wondered how he had moved so quickly in his condition. As she gasped for breath, she felt his arms come around her, steadying her. He pulled her to him as he leaned back against the tub. Slowly, his hand found hers and their fingers twined together. He was still so cold.

She was sobbing now, the pain alarmingly fresh in her mind. "Hush, now. I'm here," Severus soothed.

"No, Severus... that's just it – you're not here," she cried, releasing his hand and turning her face into the icy skin of his neck, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as she sobbed uncontrollably. "You're not here with me... not really. We're forever t-together, but f-forever apart. I'm alone... s-so alone." The last words came out as a whisper – a small, warm breath against his skin.

"No, never alone," he crooned as he pressed a kiss into her temple. "I–" he paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I have... feared this night for a while now, Hermione."

She raised her head to look at him, her eyes swollen and red, tears fresh on her face. "You? Afraid?" She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. "I've never known you to be afraid of anything, not even Vo–"

"This," he interrupted her, "is something entirely different. I do fear... him, but it is not for the reasons you think. I care not for myself – my fate was sealed long ago. As I have told you before, I only wish to see you happy, see you safe."

"I don't think I can ever truly be happy again, not without you. Not without–"

"Please," he interrupted her again, his voice breaking. "Please do not say her name. I do not think I could bear to hear it again."

Her words were choked by a fresh flow of tears. "I can't believe I didn't realize the significance of tonight. God, I feel like a fool... a h-h-heartless f-fool!"

He squeezed her tightly once again, pressing his cheek to her temple. "It is my fault. I should not have engaged you in the forest. I knew it was you. I could smell you as soon as you were close enough... as soon as you hid behind that tree. I was angry and drunk and you were the most convenient target. I am... sorry."

Her lips pressed into a tight smile as she nodded.

"Come," he said after a few moments. "I believe the water is probably warm enough now." He stood slowly, bracing himself on the edge of the tub, and reached a hand down to her. She stared at it for a moment before grasping it and letting him help her stand. They both managed to finish undressing, after which they stepped carefully under the steaming showerhead. Warmth flooded over them, seeping down into icy skin and frozen joints, healing... soothing.

She turned to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest. His arms encircled her as he rested his chin on her head. Neither cared that they were both without clothes – for the moment, they simply needed the shared warmth, the simple comfort of being close to one another.

After a moment she spoke: "Why, Severus?"

He remained silent, but she felt his breath hitch. She knew he was trying to be strong, trying to keep the walls carefully in place, as always.

"Why us? Why her?" she asked again.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, as if calming himself. "I do not know the exact reasons. My best guess... is revenge. Revenge against me for lo... for caring for you."

"Oh God, Severus, I don't know if I can do this anymore. It hurts so much!" Her sobbing started anew and she clutched at him. He held her as she cried, his own mind awash with memories still fresh and raw. He could hear her speaking. "Why her? Why her, Severus? She was our angel, our little dream... our baby... Aislinn."

As his daughter's name fell from Hermione's mouth for the second time that night, Severus could no longer hold back the emotions that had been building inside him. He held onto her as tightly as she held him, burying his face in her wet hair. Both wept unabashedly as the water beat down upon them, washing away the mud, the cold, and the tears.

~TBC

A/N: I was a little hesitant about turning the plot in this direction, but I believe that in the long run, it had to happen. Tell me what you think!

This chapter turned out a LOT longer than I intended it to be. I just started writing and couldn't find a good place to stop.

As to why Hermione did not remember the significance of this night, I think that she has chosen to push the memory to the back of her mind, subconsciously repressing it. She was totally distracted by Severus and did not remember completely until he specifically mentioned it. Sorry if anything is unclear. I plan on explaining everything! Promise!

The title for this chapter was inspired by the Paramore song "Breathe," which I listened to while writing most of this chapter.