Wandering

Hermione sat at the small round table, gazing out the window and admiring the moon over the sea on the fifth night. Professor— Severus, was improving steadily. The terrible fever finally broke and his heart, while still weak, grew less temperamental, most likely from its owners tendency at random and intense anger with it.

Every night she lay in his bed, sometimes their fingers interlaced, sometimes never touching, and he made no further advances towards her. Perhaps that night…had only been to help her; maybe there was nothing more to it for him. Her heart sank a little more every time she revisited the memory and she longed to touch him again.

Severus sat in one of the plush chairs by the fire; book in hand though he was not actually reading. He found that if he merely appeared to be immersed in its pages, she would never interrupt him. Not, he thought to himself, that she did speak very often. Her silence had come as a surprise and though he initially breathed thanks to Merlin, it became unsettling after a while. He soon began to wonder if his night with her had been too much, pushing her too far so soon after her encounter. Her lack of interest soon fueled those concerns and he cursed himself for being a fool.

He watched her rise from the table and gather her cloak about her shoulders, before she strode to the door. “I'm just going to have a bit of air.” She said to him as the door shut behind her. Her furrowed his brow and closed the book, rose from the chair and retuned it to the shelf. His wand lay safe in the sleeve of his robe, that was one little discovery he could not thank Hermione for enough. Eventually it would have come to him that he kept a spare on here, but she had found it in her second night's wanderings.

He took advantage of the empty space and took to pacing the wooden floors, irritated at the infernal limp that would not leave him. Hermione blamed it on the…lashings…over his spine. She was afraid it damaged a nerve there and that he may well have it for the rest of his presumably numbered days.

He could not stand to be dormant any longer. Without Hermione, Potter had no hope of finding the last Horcrux and the damned Dark Lord would be free to reign as he pleased without worry of Potters attack. It was that damned Hufflepuff cup, who would have thought it would be the hardest to acquire?

He was far from the Dark Lords graces for some time now, the assumption being that the cup will have been moved. His thoughts were interrupted by a most unsettling sensation up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Smoothly he drew his wand and pushed himself back into the shadows, slinking along the wall towards the door. Something was defiantly amiss.

He could hear shuffling in the sand not far from the door. A muffled shriek met his ears and he rolled to the other side of the doorframe before flicking his wand and swinging it open.

The shuffling stopped, nothing but the sound of the waves met his ears. A small movement near the wood line caught his eye; he swished his wand towards it, scowling as a rabbit scampered away.

“S’ A TRAP!”

Severus whirled around to face the sea where Hermione’s strangled cry was heard. His outer cape billowed in the night air and the moon lit the beach in silvery light. He took a step closer to the water, his feet crunching in the sand, and froze. Lucius stood just at the corner of the bungalow, using its transparency to shield himself, with Hermione in his arms. Blood poured down the side of her face and pooled in the sand at her feet, the blade end of Lucius’ cane pushed sharply into her neck.

“Why Severus, how I have missed you brother, surely you did not expect me to allow your debt to go unpaid? And what an unexpected surprise for me to collect not just you, but this…muggle born…as well.”

He traced the blunt edge of the blade down Hermione’s cheek as he spoke, though it looked to Severus that she was quite unaware. She met his eyes for a brief moment before her own rolled back in their sockets and she slumped against Lucius.

Rage boiled in his chest. He took the moment that Lucius glanced down at her sagging form to strike. Lucius cried out and staggered back, dropping Hermione to the ground. Long, deep gashes erupted on his chest and splattered bright red blood across his porcelain face. Severus swept over him and firmly pressed his boot into his ribcage. Keeping his foot firmly in place and his wand trained at Lucius’ forehead, he kneeled, resting his arm across his knee, and spoke.

“Why brother,” the word seethed out of him, dripping with hate and loathing, “it is a shame I haven’t the time to repay your hospitality of late, but you have gone and damaged something of great value to me.” He dug his heel into the man’s chest as he rose back to his full height. Lucius said nothing. Only a sneer crossed his lips.

Severus steeled himself and met the man’s cold stare for the last time before uttering the curse. A brilliant flash of green light struck and Lucius lay still, eyes gazed unseeing at the moon. Severus turned in a whirl of robes and rushed to Hermione’s side, damning himself for not keeping extra potions in the bungalow.

“Miss Granger…Hermione?” His voice was soft as he touched her cool skin. She did not respond as he gathered her in his arms and made for the shelter.

“S’ a tr…trap.” Hermione moaned into his chest as he carried her. He said nothing as he laid her across the bed. Her hands trembled as she reached up to him; he collected them in his and hushed her. “You are safe, the trap has failed. Let me see to you.”

She whimpered when he touched her head. Blood matted in her hair and stained her white cheeks. A sizeable laceration bled at her hairline, surrounded by deep purple bruising. The edges were clean; Lucius must have brought that damned cane of his down on her with the blade exposed. He brought the tip of his wand to the wound and muttered a suturing charm; tiny blue threads of light wove into the torn flesh and brought it together before fading away. He then cast a cleansing charm to rid her of the blood.

Her eyes remained closed as he studied her. Gently his fingers brushed her hair back and stroked her temples. She opened her eyes and looked at his face without speaking before suddenly crying out and wrapping her arms around his neck. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her to him, closing his eyes as she sobbed against his neck.

“I am so sorry, what a fool I have become. I am so sorry! I never should have let my guard down; he should never have caught me.”

Severus kissed her temple before pulling her back and looking her in the eye. “You are not to blame for this, regardless of what you thought of Lucius Malfoy, he was a skilled Death Eater, trained to strike when backs are turned. Do not fret over this, his threat is over now and we are better for it.”

She nodded and pulled him to her again. “I thought, I was so afraid he would get to you.”
Something tugged in Severus’s chest and he pulled her tightly into his arms. He ran one of his hands over her hair and melted as her lips found his neck. She pulled back long enough to collect his lips in hers, tears flooding down her cheeks. “I never wanted you to regret it.” She whispered against his lips.

His chest clenched and he kissed her deeply, not believing she had been distant on his behalf, believing him to have regrets. Her tears slid over his fingers as he held her cheeks and she broke the kiss to fall into his chest, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“We must leave again.”

Hermione quieted her tears as his voice rumbled against her. She knew they would have to go, though all she wanted was to stay enfolded in his robes and never leave. She wiped her eyes and nodded, feeling silly for such an outburst in front of him.

“You rest, we will leave in the morning.” He ran his finger down her cheek as he spoke. She leaned into his touch and nodded, letting him lower her to the cushions. He lay beside her, their bodies curled together, though he made no move to touch her this night. They would journey in the morning and she was injured.

When her rhythmic breathing told him of her slumber, he rolled on his back and stared again at the ceiling. Where would they go now? This was the last of his safe havens; there was nowhere else to offer her. Perhaps she knew of a place…

He dwelled on it a while longer before the ocean pulled him into sleep.