Chapter Six

Disclaimer: JKR owns it all. I'm just having fun.

Chapter Six

Severus desperately wanted to pace, but his damned leg would not cooperate, so he was, instead, sitting on the edge of his bed. Nervous energy had built within his chest, and he had no way to expend it. With nothing else to do, he reverted to a childhood habit, anxiously biting the edge of his right thumb as he waited for word from the Healer.

"Thank Merlin, Healer Attewell was still here," Eileen said, her voice fraught with tension. She glanced at Severus and then gently guided his thumb from his mouth, just as she had done when he was small boy. "I'm sure everything is fine. Women sometimes have a bit of spotting in early pregnancy."

He eyed her sceptically and ran a weary hand across his face before checking the clock for the hundredth time. "What is taking so long?" he asked, nibbling on his thumb once more.

Eileen grasped his hand, removing the digit from between his teeth. "It's only been a few minutes. Gnawing your thumb off is not going to help."

Severus was too worried to think of a suitable retort, so he settled for a glare and returned to biting his thumb with a renewed ferocity.

Eileen huffed and turned her eyes heavenward in exasperation before settling her gaze on her son. "Always so surly. You'd best hope your son takes after his mum," she said pointedly.

"If I still have a son," Severus whispered and then immediately berated himself for even thinking such a thought. He felt helpless and completely at a loss for what he should be doing or feeling. He only knew that Hermione was across the hall in his mother's bedroom, scared and perhaps in pain, and he was stuck in his blasted room because of his bloody leg. He needed to see her, to reassure himself that she was all right, that their child was all right.

He felt guilty that he had not been there for her, angry that Potter had been, and then more guilty for being angry...at least she had not been alone. Then there was the guilt that his last words to her had been in anger and accusation. Had he exacerbated the situation? Could this be his fault?

His gnawing intensified.

Eileen once again removed his thumb from his mouth and took his face in her hands, forcing his anguished eyes to hers. "Listen to me, Severus. You are not to blame in any way. You did nothing to cause this. Do you understand me? Now stop this right now. We don't know anything yet, and you're already assuming the worst."

There was a knock at the open door, and Potter hesitantly entered the room, hovering in front of the doorway, his hands thrust in his pockets. "Can I wait with you?"

Severus was about to kick the boy out of his room when Eileen answered, "Of course. Come in. We'll all wait together."

A quarter of an hour passed in near silence as they awaited word from the Healer. Severus thought he was going to go out of his mind with worry.

Then finally, Healer Attewell walked into the room, causing all but Severus to immediately stand to attention.

"How is she?" Severus asked. "How is the child?"

"Both are just fine, Mr Snape," Healer Attewell replied kindly. "Mrs Snape has a urinary tract infection...quite common during pregnancy...which caused some slight bleeding. I've given her a potion for the infection, and I've spoken with her about increasing her water intake and eating foods that are rich in vitamin C. That should help prevent another infection from occurring."

"Thank Merlin," Eileen breathed as she sat next to Severus on the bed and took his hand.

"However," the Healer continued, drawing everyone's attention, "I am concerned about her blood pressure. She is much too stressed. She needs to rest and relax. Mrs Snape appears to be the type of person who thrives on pressure, am I correct?"

Potter snorted. "Yeah. That's Hermione, all right."

Severus glared at the boy until he blushed and looked away.

"I thought as much, and because of that, I'm placing her on partial bed rest for the next two weeks, meaning no strenuous activity...either physical or magical. There will be no Apparition, not even side-along, no travelling by Floo or Portkey. She needs to rest." The Healer looked at all over them from over the tops of her horn-rimmed glasses. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course," Severus replied. He would tie her to the bloody bed if necessary.

"Excellent. I leave her in good hands, then," Healer Attewell said with a wink. "Now, then, I've left the potions for you, Mr Snape, and the instructions for your rehabilitation downstairs on the kitchen table. Also, I believe you will find these to be helpful until your strength returns." She pulled something from the pocket of her robes and then waved her wand. A pair of crutches appeared.

Severus all but leapt from the bed to reach them. Under normal circumstances, he might have been appalled that he would need such things, but at that moment, he saw them as the only way to get to Hermione. He grabbed at the crutches like a lifeline, and then quickly made his way out of the room, completely oblivious to the fact that he was dressed only his grey nightshirt.

Lucky for the other three people in the room, he also missed the three knowing smirks and three sets of eyes that followed his hasty departure.

*******

Severus flung open the door and entered the room as quickly as the crutches would allow. Hermione was sitting in his mother's bed, several pillows propping her up against the headboard. She looked so small and fragile, her hair a wild jumble and her pale face streaked with tears. She looked at him with such sad eyes; Severus was certain he felt his heart crack.

He made his way to the side of the bed. "Budge over."

Hermione sniffed and wiped her cheeks, then slid to the other side of the bed. Severus sat, laying his newly acquired crutches on the floor before slipping into the bed next to her, his back against the headboard.

"Come," he said as he extended his arm to the side.

Hermione's face crumpled, and then she was clinging to him, sobbing into his neck as her fingers clutched the front of his nightshirt. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his other hand cradling her head.

"Shh," Severus soothed. "It's all right."

Hermione took a shaky breath and choked out, "I was so frightened."

"I know."

Severus continued to hold her as she cried; they had much to discuss, but he recognised her need to release the fear she had experienced. He waited patiently until, at last, her sobs subsided. They continued to sit in silence for a few minutes longer, both seeking comfort from the other's presence.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered as her fingers fiddled with the button closure of his nightshirt.

"You did nothing to cause this, Hermione."

"Not this," she explained. "The marriage...it's my fault. I didn't thoroughly research the spell, and now you're stuck with me. I'm sorry."

Severus twined his fingers in her hair. "Are you feeling up to discussing this now?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Good. Tell me how the marriage occurred."

Hermione attempted to move her head to look at him, but Severus held firm; if he was going to get through this conversation without turning into a lovesick puddle of gelatinous goo, he could not look at her.

She snuggled her cheek against his shoulder. "According to the information we've found...Bill and I...it was the second part of the incantation...iugo, meaning 'to bind together, connect, couple.' I assumed it was part of the conception, binding the pregnancy to me. I was correct but only partially."

"Partially?" Severus asked, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms.

"Yes. The incantation does bind the pregnancy to the female participant, but Durand said in Livre de formules magiques et potions that when you ... when we ..."

"When I kissed you." He didn't need to see her face to know she was blushing. If that night had felt as intense to her as it had to him, "kiss" was a vast understatement.

"Yes. That's what bound me to you," she concluded.

"What?" Severus released her, pulling back so that he could see her face. "What do you mean, you're bound to me? I thought this was the equivalent of a marriage?"

"It is," Hermione affirmed. "As far as the Ministry is concerned, we are legally and magically married. As far as the binding itself is concerned, you were the caster, and therefore, I am bound to you, but you are not bound to me."

"But the rune ... it means gift ...."

Hermione agreed but added, "It can also indicate balance. The 'gift' is a symbol of the oath or binding, similar to a wedding ring. The spell is an archaic one and was often used in arranged marriages to ensure the immediate conception of an heir."

Severus snorted. "I take it Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes neglected to mention the spell's use as a marriage ceremony."

She blushed and nodded. "Anyway, Durand explained how balance was created by the ritual. Both the caster and the recipient give and receive a gift. The caster receives an heir and the loyalty of the recipient, while the recipient receives a child and the protection of the caster."

Severus was horrified. What had they done? He had wanted a child, yes, but not a servant! Memories of his Death Eater initiation flooded him; Voldemort had also promised protection in exchange for loyalty.

"So now I am to be your very own Dark Lord, is that it?" He attempted to leave the bed, but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Release me."

"No," she said. "Listen to me. It's nothing like that. This binding may be similar in principle to the one Voldemort used for the Dark Mark, but it's actually very different. There is no compulsion on my part; you cannot use the mark to hurt me, nor can you summon me. There are only two documented magical properties to this mark. If I place my fingers on it and concentrate on your magic, I can Apparate directly to you...that's how we found you. Also, if you were to touch the mark, I would find it ... highly pleasurable." She blushed.

Severus was just able to keep himself from groaning at the images that immediately came to mind with her last statement. He struggled to rein in his tumultuous emotions. "Those are the only documented properties. It does not mean there are not others."

"I suppose," Hermione replied warily. "But does it matter? I trust you not to harm me."

"We must find a way to undo this." Severus felt his jaw clench in frustration. He loved her, and he wanted her as his wife, but not like this. Not with such an imbalance of power in the relationship.

"Durand was very specific; the binding is unbreakable," Hermione whispered, her head bowed. "I am truly sorry, Severus. I know you don't want to be married to me."

"Hermione," Severus said, and he cupped her face with one hand and tilted her chin until her gaze met his. "It is not a matter of what I want. I've done you a grave disservice. Not only are you pregnant with my child, but I've inadvertently taken away your ability to marry whatever man your heart desires."

Her face was etched with pain, and she turned her head toward the wall. "But I did, Severus. I did marry the man my heart desires, the man I love ... but his heart does not desire me."

Severus had never felt so many simultaneous emotions. He was overwhelmed...she loved him. This was the moment, he realised. He could choose to ignore or ridicule her statement and protect himself from potential heartbreak, or he could acknowledge her declaration and risk everything. Was it worth the risk? Was she worth the risk? The answer was a resounding yes.

"What makes you say that?" he asked softly.

Her eyes snapped to his; he had never seen her in such turmoil. Her breath caught as she whispered, "Please don't."

His thumb lightly stroked her cheek. "Don't what? Don't tell you that I find the idea of marriage to you to be far from repugnant? Don't tell you what my heart desires? Don't tell you that..."

"Stop it!" Hermione cried, her body trembling from head to toe. "You've always been honest with me...please don't lie to me now. Not about this."

His brow knit in confusion. "Why do you believe I'm lying to you?"

"I was there that night at the Shrieking Shack," she said brokenly, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "I know that your last memories were of Harry's mother, and I saw you beg Harry to look at you so that the last thing you would see would be her eyes! You love her! So please don't patronise me or cheapen what I feel for you by claiming that you feel something for me that I know you do not!"

Severus became alarmed at her agitated state. "Hermione, calm down. The child ...."

She immediately calmed; her eyes closed as she deepened her breathing.

"That's right," Severus said, his voice low and soothing, "just like that. Good."

He waited a few minutes, holding her close and stroking her back, hoping it would help her to relax. Then, quietly and gently, Severus told her his version of what had occurred that night in the Shrieking Shack.

May 2, 1998

The Shrieking Shack

"Kill."

The fangs punctured his neck, sharp and quick, and Severus could feel the venom seeping into his bloodstream. A scream was wrenched from his throat, the terrible sound echoing throughout the room as he tried in vain to remove the snake's enchanted cage from his head and shoulders. He failed, and his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor.

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Pain wracked through his body as the starry sphere that held the snake was removed, and he fell onto his side. He could feel the fast flow of warm blood as it poured from the wounds, and he frantically pressed his fingers to his neck, desperate to keep the blood from seeping from his body. He knew it was a futile effort.

He was dying.

Random memories surfaced, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind, flooding him with images of his past.

His mother and father fighting as he covered his ears, his first day of teaching at Hogwarts, his robes on fire at a Quidditch match, scowling at an Order meeting, bowing before Voldemort, Dumbledore pleading with him to kill him ....

And then came the memories of her, memories so precious that he had hidden them in the darkest recesses of his mind, for fear that they would be snatched by the madman he had called Master.

Hermione's open and exuberant face as they began their research, her laughter filling his ears after he made an attempt at humour, hearing her speak his given name for the first time, her pushing a copy of Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes at him and demanding that he read it, her standing before him with her hands on her hips and her chin tilted in determination, standing along the edge of a cliff with the magic swirling about him in a viscous cloud as he kissed her ....

Breathing was becoming more difficult as his throat filled with blood and clogged his airway. He was grateful that his last thoughts on earth would be of her, of their friendship, and of the legacy she had so willingly provided him: a child. Their child.

He felt a fleeting pang of regret...regret that he allowed her to talk him into such an idiotic idea, that he was leaving them alone, that he would never see his son's face...but then it was gone, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of pride and comfort he felt in knowing that his line, his magic, would continue after he was he gone.

Severus refused to give a moment's thought to the idea that she and their child might not survive the battle that was being waged on the other side of the creaking walls. They will live.

A shadow crossed his line of sight, and he found himself looking into the emerald green eyes of Harry Potter.

More memories began to fill his head, and he balked at sight of Lily Evans. At one time, Severus would have been eager for her face to be the last he gazed upon before meeting his end. Now, it seemed horribly, terribly wrong. That privilege belonged to Hermione and their child.

He grabbed Potter's robes and pulled him close.

He struggled to speak, the blood choking him and spilling into his lungs.

"Take ... it .... Take ... it ...."

Severus pushed with all his might, purging himself of the unwanted memories...out, out, out...until there was nothing left but Hermione.

Hermione?

She was there, passing something to Potter, and Severus knew he could die in peace if he could just lay eyes on her once more.

He fought to move, to turn his head so he could see her, but the paralytic agent in Nagini's venom had begun to take effect. He felt nothing from his waist to his toes, and the numbness was steadily moving upward.

It was torture, to have her so close and yet so far.

His grip on Potter's robes loosened as the paralysis reached his hands. A brief flash of movement caught his eye, and he instantly focussed upon it. His eyes widened.

"Look ... at ... me ..." he whispered.

Potter complied, and Severus felt his magic thrum in satisfaction.

For there, reflected in the small, round lenses of Potter's glasses, was Hermione.

Yes. Yes.

The numbness reached his face, and his eyes remained fixed upon Hermione's reflection. He knew they believed him to be already dead. He was familiar with how Nagini's venom had been altered, designed to cause intense agony as the victim drowned in his own blood, completely unable to move.

He caught a glimpse of Hermione as she paused to look at him before rushing from the room. How he wished he could have spared her the memory of watching him die, and yet he was grateful that he had been able to see her one last time.

He was alone for only a matter of seconds before he saw a flash of red out of the corner of one eye and heard that which he had never thought to hear again: phoenix song.

Fawkes had come.

Severus had no time to ponder the phoenix's unexpected appearance before the creature was hunched over his head, crying its healing tears into the wounds on his neck.

And then, the bird grabbed hold, and in a brilliant flash of light, they were gone.

When he had completed his tale, Hermione's cheeks were damp once again. One corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile as he wiped away her tears, and then he cradled her head between his hands as he gazed at her intently.

"I believe I would like to give this marriage business a try."

Her answering smile was blinding, and then she flung her arms about his neck and laughed. "I love you."

A/N: Portions of the Shrieking Shack scene are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 32, pages 656-658.

My thanks, as always, to the fabulous Subversa, DeeMichelle, and LettyBird for the beta reading and Brit picking.