Chapter 10: Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

Chapter 10

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

Severus sat on the sofa in the sitting room at number eleven, Spinner's End, watching Hermione as she arranged fresh flowers from the garden in a vase on the table across the room. Her wild brown curls were unbound down her back; she wore a simple, loose-fitting blouse and a matching, flowing skirt. She had grown so lovely in his eyes that she often took his breath away simply by entering a room. He had heard all his life, and for as long he had disdainfully dismissed the notion, that happiness in love makes a woman radiant – yet the old cliché was made evident in his wife. There was a luminescence about her that was impossible to miss.

Hermione crossed the room and sat down on the sofa beside him, placing her cheek against his heart when he put his arm about her shoulders. 'Dinner will be ready soon,' she said, closing her eyes.

Severus set his book upon the side table and stroked her cheek. 'Shall I open the wine?'

She tilted her face to look up into his eyes. 'Would you mind very much if we don't have wine? I have Pimm's and lager in the fridge, if you like. I'm having pumpkin juice.'

'You've stopped drinking wine altogether,' he murmured, raising a rakish eyebrow. 'How am I to get you tipsy and have my way with you if you don't imbibe alcohol?'

Hermione sat up and pushed her hair behind her ear. 'It's just so hot,' she said vaguely. 'Too hot for wine.'

She stood and wandered aimlessly to the window, gazing out on their neat but non-descript front garden. He watched her, wondering about the change in her lately. She was quieter, speaking more softly and less often. She responded to him as readily and in some ways was more aggressive sexually than she had been before; orgasm had moved her to tears more than once in the last few days. His concern had been allayed when she assured him that it was a reaction to being very deeply and profoundly moved by their lovemaking. It had seemed rather odd to him, but then, the entire phenomena of having this vital young girl accepting him – wanting him – was so bizarre that he was scarcely able to comprehend it.

'What news did you receive of Miss Weasley today?' he inquired casually. She had exchanged notes by owl with Ginevra Weasley several times in the last month and had explained that the notes were full of 'girl talk.' One such note had been delivered by Snowe earlier that day.

'She's back from Ron's wedding in America,' Hermione said, moving away from the window and beginning to browse the bookshelves.

His eyes narrowed, and he watched her closely. He knew the Weasley whelp had abandoned her after the end of the war due to her inability to provide him with a houseful of redundant, ginger-haired trouble-makers. Was news of Ronald Weasley's marriage to another witch making her unhappy? He ignored the flare of jealousy that rose in his chest, seeming to do battle with the now-familiar roiling unquiet which she elicited in him. She had confided it all to him with complete trust, confessing that she had never felt for Weasley what she felt for him, Severus – yet a lifetime of insecurity was not easy to overcome; he could not bear the idea of another man with his wife.

Hermione jumped when the kitchen timer dinged and she hurried across the room, saying over her shoulder, 'Dinner is ready!'

He stood and followed her, with a mental vow to be vigilant. After pudding, he led her up to bed.

Hermione turned her face away as the tears overwhelmed her again, clinging to Severus with her arms and her legs. With an insistent push, he rose on his elbows, displacing her arms from his shoulders. Still panting from the completion of their love-making, he looked down at her, clearly alarmed.

'Why are you crying?' he asked softly, dipping his head to nuzzle her cheek.

'I'm fine – I'm sorry – it's probably just that time of the month, you know,' she babbled, desperate to appease his curiosity.

He moved his weight from her body and stretched out beside her, propping his head on his hand. 'You have those? I thought that your injury – and you haven't had one in all this time, now, nearly two months.'

'It's irregular,' Hermione lied, closing her eyes, wishing she had not said anything. She did not want him curious about her cycle, or lack thereof – oh, dear God, how could she bear to give up what they had found together?

Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her to face him. 'I wish you would tell me what is distressing you,' he said, looking into her eyes.

Hermione pulled away from him. 'Don't even think about using Legilimency on me, Severus.'

He pushed himself into a sitting position. 'Don't tempt me by hiding things from me,' he snapped.

'I'm not –'

'Don't lie to me. Tell me you don't wish to speak of it, but don't insult my intelligence by pretending you are not upset.' He stood, retrieving his trousers from the floor and stepping into them. 'Is it because Ronald Weasley married that American woman?'

'No!' She sat up and crawled to the side of the bed, reaching her arms about him and pulling until he permitted her to embrace him, her lips moving over his chest. 'I don't care about anyone but you – and I never will.'

Severus looked down at her, pleased by her declaration, yet still somewhat doubtful. 'Well, what is there to cry about in that?' he asked, wiping a tear from beneath her eye with the pad of his thumb.

She did not answer him, but unbuttoned his fly, murmuring a cleansing charm as she did so. He stood as still as a statue as she braved new territory, pushing the trousers off his hips and down his legs, her face following down to nuzzle about in his groin. Her voice floated up to him.

'Come back to bed, Severus.'

He did not wait for a second invitation, but lay upon his back, his hands buried in her unruly hair, as she reignited his passion.

'Naiad!' he gasped.

Hermione held him to her as he slept, tears rolling down her cheeks. It had been nearly a week since she had seen the truth of the pregnancy scan, and still she could not bring herself to tell him about the baby. Each day she promised herself that she would, and each night she lay awake castigating herself for her cowardice.

She did not know how it had happened - how she had fallen so completely and irretrievably in love with Severus Prince - but she had done so. Two months ago she would have sworn she could bear any loss, if only she could feel life quickening within her womb – that having a baby of her own would be such a joy that it would cancel out any off-setting unhappiness. Now, she had found something even more important to her than motherhood – the man sleeping in her arms.

And miraculously, he returned her love. He had never said so, and perhaps he did not even think in such terms, but his actions spoke loudly enough for her to be convinced. She could not abide the thought of giving up one iota of her joy in their marriage. But he had roundly admitted that he preferred a life with no children, had whispered to her that he would never have to share her breasts with a suckling child, had exulted in their perfect completion in one another.

She did not know what to do and obviously could not come to a rational conclusion when her days were saturated with him – his voice, his eyes, his hands, his lips, his body filling hers – soon, he would return to work, and then she would have time to think. She could wait to make a decision until then.

On the next Monday morning, seven weeks after their marriage, Severus forced himself to go back to work. He kissed Hermione fleetingly, bade her to be a good girl whilst he was away, and Disapparated.

He had had much to bear in the way of congratulations from his colleagues and employees, but he endured it with equanimity. The day passed quickly, and after an afternoon meeting with Moody and Lupin regarding the next field agent incursion, he elected to go home early.

He was only mildly surprised when he arrived home to find her gone. It was only four o'clock, after all, and she would not have been expecting him for another hour or two. He checked the back garden and the cellar for her before going upstairs and finding upon the rolltop desk in the study a note addressed to him in her neat handwriting. He sat down and opened the note.

Dear Severus,

~Hermione

Severus remained immobile in his chair for a long time, the parchment clutched in his hand.

She had left him.

His brain tried to remind him about the fond assurances she had written, but his heart was too frightened to listen. She was unhappy, and she had left him – and she was trying to gather the courage to break it to him gently. She had waited until the first day he was gone, and she had fled.

Folding the note as it had been, he slipped it carefully into the inner pocket of his robes, then he strode into their bedroom. He flung open the clothes cupboard, expecting to see all of her clothes gone, but it appeared exactly as it had done that morning, when he had dressed. A quick prowl around the room and into the bathroom proved that her cosmetics and personal items were all in place. Where had she gone, then, taking nothing with her?

He snorted. Away with a lover is where a woman could go without taking anything with her. He knew only too well how long Hermione could happily be persuaded to go about without clothing, under the proper supervision.

The feeling of possessive rage which swept through him at the thought of Hermione with another man sent him out of the room with an inarticulate roar of fury. He pounded down the staircase into the sitting room, with no clear idea of how to proceed.

'Essex?'

He drew up short when addressed by his mother's portrait. He turned to find her scowling at him.

'What is it, Mother?'

Eileen's thin-lipped mouth became quite pinched. 'Don't you take that tone with me, young man. Is that why she's gone? Did you take out your dreadful temper on her?'

Severus gasped at the indignity of the accusation. 'I have never so much as raised my voice to that girl!'

'There are other ways to break a woman's heart,' Eileen persisted inexorably. 'Cold silences are every bit as damaging as unbridled ranting. Were you unfeeling? Did she have the slightest notion of how you care for her?'

Severus turned his back to the portrait, his mind scrambling fiercely to recall any instances of unkindness – of any sign of unhappiness on Hermione's part. 'We've been –' his face contorted as he spoke the banal word, 'happy. Until ...'

Eileen allowed him to pace twice before her portrait before she prodded him. 'Until what, Essex?'

He looked up, white-faced. 'Until this last week. Before that, I was sure she was very pleased with me.' He felt foolish saying it, just as he had felt foolish for believing it – but had his Sprite not shown every sign of passionate attachment to him?

'You know how emotional women in her condition can be, stupid boy! It is your duty to reassure her, to tell her she is beautiful, to cater to her whims – it is the least you can do for the girl bearing my grandchild.'

'Mum – what are you on about? She's not – she can't be – you see, it's just not possible ...'

Eileen's laugh was the most cheerful sound she had uttered in longer than Severus could remember. 'You're a lad and she's a lass, love. That's all it's taken since the first man wooed the first maid.'

Stubbornly, he shook his head. 'No – no, she isn't able to conceive. She was very careful to tell me that before we married. She'd already been deserted by one suitor because of it.'

'She won't be the first woman to catch pregnant when she's been told it's not possible. She's been sick every morning for the last ten days, you know.'

His head came up at that. 'I didn't know – are you sure?'

'Some mornings she didn't get the door closed behind her – I know what I heard. How can you not have noticed how she glows?'

'I did notice that!' he said defensively, beginning to pace again, and thinking out loud. 'I just misinterpreted it. She stopped cooking breakfast and began serving fruit and shop-bought pastries – she stopped eating breakfast with me, always insisting she had already eaten – she stopped drinking alcohol ...'

Eileen watched him complacently as he began to work out the answer to one plus one equals three. 'But why did she go?'

'Girls get funny ideas in their heads when they're pregnant – it's all those hormones, you know. Is there any reason why she wouldn't tell you? Any reason why she might think you don't want a child?'

The only answer she received was a quiet but vehement review of every swearword he knew. At last he whirled to her, his face more hopeful, now.

'Where has she gone, Mum?'

'A girl runs to her mother in these times,' Eileen informed him.

'But her mother is dead,' he said impatiently. 'Where else could she go?'

'If she can't go to her mother, then she goes to her best friend,' the portrait proclaimed with authority.

His answer to this was uttered like an expletive, though it was not one with which she was familiar.

'Potter.'

In an instant, he had turned on the spot and was gone.

Harry loved his friends fiercely, but there were times when he wished he cared a bit less about them, because it could certainly complicate his life. After travelling to America to stand up with Ron at his wedding and having the opportunity to spend hours of unfettered time in the presence of the love of his life, he had come to a decision. If she would have him, he would marry Ginny Weasley.

He had made plans for tonight, including a romantic candlelight dinner prepared by his own hands, to be followed by a marriage proposal. The ring was in his pocket, seeming to burn against his skin. He was ready.

The first sign of the plan going pear-shaped was having Hermione show up on his doorstep in tears that morning. They had spent all morning and most of the afternoon talking over her quandary, and she was now tucked up in her bedroom upstairs, to rest and spend some quiet time. She knew of his plans for the evening, and she had promised to remain as quiet as a mouse.

After getting Hermione settled, he had prepared the only meal he knew how to make – spaghetti with meatballs – and showered, shaved, and dressed in his best jeans and newest tee-shirt. At precisely six o'clock, Ginny had knocked on the door, and Harry had let her in and placed a surreptitious Imperturbable Charm on the front door.

Now, dinner was complete, and he and Ginny had moved into the sitting room with their pudding. Ginny was so beautiful, with her coppery hair shining in the candlelight, her beloved brown eyes full of an expression that made his heart race. She was laughing at his jokes and reaching out as they spoke to touch his hand, to place a hand upon his arm – all was going beautifully –

Until Severus Snape – no, Prince - tore down the wards on Harry's front door with all the finesse of a Muggle with a fire-axe.

Ginny saw Harry wince and said, 'What is it, Harry?'

He gave her a lop-sided grin. 'You'll see, soon enough.'

The front door slammed, and a familiar voice carried up the stairs. 'I'd like a word, Potter.'

Harry stood and moved to the door, where he met Professor Snape –no, Prince - and barred his way in. Ginny watched as her former teacher glared about the very dimly candle-lit sitting room.

'Such romanticism, Potter,' the older wizard spat, giving Harry a shove which caused him to stumble back. 'For whose benefit, I wonder?' the silky voice continued menacingly.

Ginny was on her feet, wand in hand, with a speed which seemed to impress Harry. 'Touch him again, Professor, and I won't hesitate to hex you,' she said firmly.

'Miss Weasley?' the professor said, obviously confused.

'Yes, sir. And where I come from, it is considered extremely rude to enter someone's house without knocking.' Ginny held her wand on her former teacher without a blink.

The gaunt-faced man swallowed, obviously abashed, and gave a stiff bow, saying, 'You didn't hear my knock, for there was an Imperturbable Charm upon the door. Please accept my apologies, Miss Weasley – Mr Potter.'

Ginny glanced at Harry – why on earth would he place an Imperturbable Charm on the front door? She lowered her wand but stayed on her feet to await developments.

'She's in her room,' Harry said to his best friend's husband.

Prince looked at him sharply. 'Will she see me?'

Harry nodded. 'If you're not a fool – and for all the things I've ever thought about you, I've never thought that – she'll be very happy to share her news with you,' Harry said. 'You are one lucky bastard, you know?'

An expression that no student of his had ever witnessed touched the hawk-like face. 'Is it true, then?' he said.

Harry nodded. He began, 'She's upstairs on the second floor, third door on the left –' then he smirked, 'and don't forget to knock.'

Severus Prince hastily left the room and Ginny turned to Harry. 'What in the world was that all about? I thought they were happy – and is Hermione here? Why didn't you tell me?'

Harry walked over to Ginny, his hands held out; she immediately placed her hands in his. He said, 'They are, and she is - and we were ...'

'But why is she here?' Ginny demanded, giving his hands a little jerk. 'What's going on?'

Harry sighed and sat, pulling Ginny down beside him. 'She's pregnant but she hasn't told him –'

'Pregnant?' Ginny screeched. 'But why is she here?'

'She was upset, so she came home. I am her best friend, Gin.'

Ginny's eyes narrowed. 'Why didn't you tell me she's here?'

Harry released Ginny's hands and sighed, running a hand through his messy mop of hair. 'She knew this evening was special, and she didn't want to interrupt.'

Ginny's eyebrows went up. 'What's so special about tonight?' she demanded.

Harry uttered a hollow laugh. 'I am going to ask you to marry me,' he admitted.

Ginny blinked and felt her tummy swoop in the direction of her feet. 'You are?' she whispered.

'I am,' Harry answered firmly, his emerald green eyes holding hers fearlessly.

Ginny swallowed and sat up straighter. 'Well?' she prompted.

And when he pulled a small square velvet box from his pocket and knelt at her feet, she could not help the tears which started to her eyes.

Hermione sat propped up in the bed in her old room, trying to concentrate on the paperback novel she had excavated from a box of things she had left in her closet when she had moved to Spinner's End. The room seemed strange to her now, though; the single bed was too small, she missed the colourful cushions she had sewn – and she desperately missed her husband.

She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with the rather damp handkerchief she held. Harry had told her to go home and tell Severus about the baby – he would not even discuss any other option with her. She knew he was right – she felt a bit silly now for becoming so upset about it – but the pregnancy was completely unexpected, and she could not help but be fearful of both how Severus would react to the news and how it would change their relationship.

A knock sounded at the door; she wondered if it was Ginny coming in to show off her new engagement ring. Hermione tucked the handkerchief in her pocket and called out with forced cheerfulness, 'Come in!'

The door opened and Severus entered, closing it behind him and leaning his back against it.

'Severus!' she gasped.

'Why am I out chasing you all over London?' he inquired neutrally.

'I left a note – didn't you see it?' she asked anxiously. 'I wouldn't go without letting you know.'

'For future reference, Hermione, "Don't worry, I'll be fine" and "We'll talk when I come home" are not messages guaranteed to put the mind of one's husband at ease – quite the opposite, in fact.'

He sounded natural enough, but his expression was shuttered – she couldn't tell how he was feeling. 'I didn't mean to worry you,' she said in a small voice.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. 'I see that you are unharmed, so my mind is now at rest. But what are you doing here? The study must be converted to a nursery, and you cannot expect me to do that alone.'

Her mouth dropped open. 'You knew!'

He moved away from the door, crossing the floor in three long strides and seating himself on the edge of her bed. 'I did not know, my Sprite – forgive me.'

The instant he was close enough for her to touch him, Hermione held out her arms, and he pulled her into his crushing embrace. 'My mother's portrait informed me,' he murmured into her crazy hair. 'But why did you not tell me?'

Hermione clutched at his robes, the feeling of immense relief flooding her body. Emotional distance from him had become painful for her, and the last ten days had been rendered horrific by her attempts to hide the truth from him. Now, the dam of dissembling broke, and the strain of the last days came pouring from her.

'I had promised you there would be no children – it was practically the first thing I told you! And you've told me over and over again that you like it that way – and we've been so happy, I just can't bear for that to end!'

With one large, long-fingered hand, Severus held her head to his chest as she sobbed; with the other, he rubbed soothing circles on her back. With his torso, he gently rocked her, murmuring endearments. As the storm subsided, he pulled a fresh handkerchief from his robes, which she gratefully accepted, and he began to speak to her.

'My beautiful Naiad,' he crooned, now stroking her hair. 'Do you know that I gave up the notion of having a wife and family before I was twenty-five years old?'

Hermione pulled back from him, the newly drenched handkerchief grasped in her hand, and hiccupped, 'R-really?'

He nodded, gently urging her to lay her head against his chest again, which she happily did. 'Yes. I believed that turning spy for the Order was as good as signing my own death warrant – but I was willing to do it, as expiation for my guilt. The first war ended, then, and I was a free agent for many years, yet I never had much of a social life. I was unsuccessful with women, you see.'

Hermione sighed. 'I don't understand how that can be, Severus.'

He pressed his lips to the top of her head and said, 'That is what makes you unique, Sprite. But when the Dark Lord returned, the stakes were much higher than they had been before, and I truly felt that I would not survive the outcome of the second war. I never, ever thought I would have a wife, much less a child.' He stopped stroking her hair, and the palm of his hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up to his. 'I was grateful for your offer to marry me and quickly became besotted with you – I said those things about children because I wished to put your mind at rest – because I wanted you to know that the gift of you was more than enough for me – certainly more than I had ever expected to have.'

Hermione looked into the black eyes she had once thought were an endless abyss and now saw such a burning intensity there that she felt as if she was truly seeing him as a whole person for the first time. 'So ... you don't mind about the baby?' she asked.

He tightened his arms about her and said in a voice made husky by emotion, 'I am filled with such primordial joy – moved so deeply – that I will never be able to express my gratitude to you adequately, Hermione. I am very much afraid that I will have to spend my life thanking you every single day.'

They sat quietly together, each so calmed by the presence of the other that it seemed as if their hearts beat with one pulse. At last, Severus said, 'But what about you, my Sprite? I have made you pregnant when you did not expect it – perhaps this is not the time in your life when you would have chosen to have a baby. Does it not upset your plans for the future?'

Hermione immediately shook her head. 'Oh, no. I only have one term more at uni – I will be finished by Christmas, and the baby won't be due until spring – so school won't be affected. I will most likely enter the workforce later than I might have done otherwise, but there is no reason why I can't pursue my career and be a wife and mother as well – my own mum made a success of it, and I shall, too.' She smiled at him mistily. 'It's not as if I can say, oh, let's do this another time, instead – this is a one-off, Severus – I'm pretty sure of that.'

He stroked her face and said, 'You wanted a baby very badly, didn't you?'

She nodded. 'I tried not to mind, but knowing I couldn't have a baby made me want one all the more.'

He slipped his hand up beneath her blouse, over her still-flat tummy, to stroke her burgeoning breast through the silken fabric of her bra. 'Then that is why our marriage consummation satisfied my life debt to you – the combined magicks somehow forced an egg through your tubes and into your womb, where it was penetrated by my sperm.'

As he spoke, he moved his hand down and pressed gently against her lower abdomen; Hermione felt her womb throb once in answer to his words and his touch, and her eyes fluttered closed. His hand moved lower still, so that he was stroking her mons through the heavy denim of her jeans. 'Is there anything else you haven't told me?' he asked, bending his head to capture the lobe of her ear between his teeth. 'Now is a good time to bare your soul – before I bare your body and ravish you properly.'

Hermione squirmed into the pressure of his hand upon her and said, 'No – you have all my secrets, now.' Opening her eyes, she reached with one hand to stroke his face, tracing her fingers lovingly over his cheek, down his nose, and over his lips. 'Is there anything you haven't told me?'

He shifted her weight so that she was more upright, her cheek nestled against his shoulder, and he bent his head so that his lips ghosted over hers as he said, 'Yes, there is – I love you, Hermione.'

Harry had his hands buried his Ginny's fiery red hair, feasting on her mouth, when the silvery otter gambolled down the stairs and into the sitting room. Ginny was the one who noticed the difference in the quality of the light in the room, and broke the kiss to say, 'We have a visitor.'

Harry released her and half turned to look over his shoulder, expecting to find Hermione or Prince in the doorway – but it was Hermione's Patronus which capered about him and Ginny on the couch before saying, 'Thank you, Harry. We've gone home – I'll talk to you later.' The otter then looked at a slightly embarrassed Ginny, who felt compelled to tug her blouse down before the Patronus said, 'Congratulations, Ginny – Severus and I both wish you happy!' That said, the Patronus frolicked to the door and dissipated in the air.

'About bloody time,' Harry muttered before standing and sweeping a giggling Ginny up into his arms. 'We can move this party to its proper conclusion,' and he carried his love up the stairs to his bedroom.

A/N: See! I can write a story where Hermione gets pregnant! *Preens self*. I only did it for Ginny_Weasley31, though. She got me to write my first Prison!Snape, my first Pregnant!Hermione, and my first HBP-compliant fic - just in time for DH! One more chapter to come!