Chapter Eighteen

Despite the trembling in her fingers, Hermione deftly knotted the navy-colored silk tie into the perfect Windsor at the base of her husband’s throat. Just as she’d done every time he’d donned a three-piece suit since they had returned from their honeymoon.

"Three weeks in Greece hasn’t dulled my senses that much, witch." Severus’ fingers tried to nudge her’s aside, but her Gryffindor tenacity edged his Slytherin resolve, but only slightly. "I am still capable of dressing myself." The warmth in his eyes belied the slight bite of his tone.

Hermione shivered at the seductiveness wrapping his voice and the touch of his velvet lips. Whether his intention or not, that tone never failed to reduce her insides to a quivering pile of anticipation and desire. God, but if he could only bottle that voice, the demand for Amortentia would drop by half. Of their own free will, her fingers reached for the russet silk again, intent on unknotting it. Surely he didn't need to return to the office today. After all, he did work from home from time to time. Perhaps—

"Hermione."

Their bond snapped tighter around her soul, holding it with the same safe strength his arms provided. Drawing a deep breath in an attempt to calm the thudding beneath her breastbone, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. "We asked them not to come."

Severus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. "Perhaps we should have worded the request more strongly," he gently advised in his soft baritone.

"Oh, it was worded strongly enough," Hermione sighed. "They simply chose to ignore our feelings on the subject." She pushed away from him and stalked across the room to the bureau to retrieve the diamond studs he'd presented to her as a wedding gift into her ears. "It's just farther proof that my parents are determined to have a relationship with us on their terms, not ours." A myriad of scenarios regarding the coming event swam in her mind. And none of them had positive outcomes. An overwhelming dread threatened to drive her to her knees, causing her to grasp the edges of the bureau's marble top. "They could ruin everything," she whispered, unable to stem the tears.

"I doubt it is as dire as all that," her husband soothed. He wrapped his arms around her again, and she pressed herself against his solidness. "After all, they only know what we've told them." He breathed a kiss to the top of her head, his voice sounding confident. Yet the trembling she felt at her back betrayed his own uncertainty. "You were not pregnant when we saw them at Christmas. Once we discovered that you were expecting, they had cut off all communication with us again—"

"And we thought it more prudent to my health, and that of the baby's, to refrain from contacting them until after the birth." The disappointed shadows in her parents' eyes from that night a few weeks earlier still haunted her thoughts. She closed her eyes against the image and swallowed the self-loathing that accompanied it. This was the way it needed to be to keep Rose safe. "What if they say something to Molly?"

"From what I've witnessed, your parents will not want to remain for the reception." Severus assured. One more gentle squeeze, the brush of his velvet lips across hers, and he returned to the task of dressing, his long, elegant fingers making quick work of the buttons on his waistcoat. "Therefore, the chances their paths will cross the Weasleys is less than ten percent." He smirked at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking with humor. "Give or take a two percent margin of error of course."

Hermione laughed for the first time in days. Truly laughed. And it felt wonderful, lifting the veil of depression from her shoulders. "You really are a bloody git. You know that, right?"

Severus winked. His bright, confident smile acted as a buoy to her soul. They would do this. Despite the setback of her parents' arrival. Despite the potential danger Molly Weasley embodied. Despite the circumstances and the risks and everything else, they would do this. They would survive this day.

And so would Rose.