Fortress

She woke what seemed a short time later, knowing that nothing in particular had awakened her. She contemplated rolling over to face his back, but she was so firmly entwined in the blankets she would have to risk waking him, and from the sound of his breathing he was definitely asleep. Unable to drift off again, she decided to risk it, and nearly jumped out of the bed when he turned towards her at the same time.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, concerned at her wide-eyed stare.

"No, I thought I woke you." She propped herself up on one elbow. "Something wake?"
?"

"No, nothing." He made a few fitful movements, as if to settle in again, but kept looking towards the door. "I was just thinking of"¦" he let his voice trail off, leaving his mouth endearingly open as he did when he was thinking of an unfinished statement.

"I know," she said, "I was thinking of it too." She sat up straighter as he found her hand beneath the blanket and squeezed it in his.

"Shall we?"

"Yes."

He pulled his pajamas on, and helped her find her gown. Before they left the room they both pulled on the robes they kept by the door. Then they silently walked down the hallway to their son's room.

From the open doorway they could see sleesleeping, sprawled out over the entire surface of the bed, one arm flung over his head. The other was hanging over the edge of the bed, a book lying spine-up beneath his hand. Severus moved into the room with long cautious strides, and slowly plucked the book from the floor, placing it on his bedside table. Even after he ware Jre Jason had not awakened, he continued to stand there. With a tenderness many who knew him would hardly have believed, he took Jason's forearm in his hands and lifted it back on to the bed, a position the boy would doubtlessly find more comfortable. As Severus pointlessly smoothed the covers away from his face, Hermione swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump thad had risen in her throat. Barely knowing what she was doing, she moved to be at her husband's side.

s ves very handsome," she whispered, slipping her arm around Severus' back. He nodded.

"Takes after the Grangers." It could have been self-deprecating, but it was merely true. The boy, a young man, now, really, had the same coloring and build as Hermione's father's family, with the exception of his eyes. They were darker than Hermione's, their shape entirely from his father.

She stepped further into his room. Here there was less to define him than might have been in his trunk at school, but at least here it was all on display. His bureau, cluttered with the usual detritus of a teenager, also held one photograph in a simple frame. It was a portrait of herself and Severus, twelve years earlier. Jason had been only five, but he had asked to take their picture before they left on a rare evening out. Despite the welcome presence of the Drs. Granger as babysitters, Jason had seemed anxious at their leaving, and they had capitulated to his request only to calm him.

He had directed them as to where to stand"”framed by the broad pine tree in the yard behind the house"”and how to array their cloaks. The picture was rather dark, save for their faces and a circle of light escaping from the kitchen door where he stood. Their expressions were strange; Jason had instructed them not to smile. Hermione picked up the frame and studied her own image, nodding almost imperceptibly. Another flash of white entered the picture as Severus freed a hand from his cloak to take her arm briefly, a show of support. Though the mouths in the picture did not move, Hermione suddenly heard her own, an echo from that night long ago. "It will be alright, Jason. We have to go now." She had given in to his final demand for one more hug, stooping to embrace him as he hung on to that camera and submitted to a manly pat on the back from his father. Then she and Severad Aad Apparated away to Hogwarts for the faculty New Year's party.

"You do take a lovely picture, you know," Severus murmured in her ear, startling her so much she nearly dropped the frame. The subjects inside looked only mildly startled, settling as soon as she put them back on the bureau.

"What is this?" she asked, reaching for a familiar looking burgundy folder. She could sense Severus disapproving behind her, but she was sure she'd seen it somewhere before. When she cracked it ophe whe was faced with yet another picture of herself.

It was a far younger Severus and Hermione who looked back from that picture, yet they stood side by side again, this time in broad daylight, backed by the sparkling outline of the Hogwarts lake.

"Quite a day, wasn't it?" Severus asked, wrapping his arms around her waist, only the slightest hint of vitriol in his voice. True to what might be expected, their wedding had hardly gone off without a hitch.

"It was hot as all hell," she whispered, looking at their admittedly shiny faces, "and all my relatives wanted to know why we were getting married in front of an old ruin."

"Wanted to know why we were getting married, period," he muttered, more humor than bitterness in his voice. The Severus in the photo was not smiling, but his expression was obviously infused with pride, and joy, a combination of emotions that could make his heart feel like to burst even after three decades of marriage.


The photo Hermione was standing with nearly the same rigid formality as her new husband, save for the slight, feminine smile, and the fact that whenever Severus' eyes strayed from her for even a moment, she took the opportunity to toss back the curls that had strayed from her elaborate up-do. It was not merely a cosmetic movement.

"You're lovely when you're defiant," he breathed into her ear.

She shivered and set the album quietly back on the dresser. "Then I must have been ravishing that day," she said.

"Especially when you were confronting Moody," he said, beginning to steer her towards the door.
"I had enough to confront him about," she hissed in a whisper, no longer concerned about waking her son up. He slept like a log anyway. "Obliviating people at every turn."

"Wouldn't do to have them seeing the house elves," he said when they'd reached the door.

"He Obliviated every time someone looked at him funny!" she said, jumping when her vehement statement was met with a startled sounding snore from the bed.

They both paused in the hall, turning to look at his sleeping form one more time. The broad window on the other side of his room showed only the pale fields washed in moonlight, but Hermione shuddered any way.

"Sometimes I feel like the entire world outside of here is on fire."

Severus pulled her close, holding her in front of his body, his chin resting on the crown of her head. "On fire?" he asked, his voice calm.

"I don't know how to explain it. Like this is the last safe place on earth, and we're just hiding in here."

"We spend hardly enough time here as it is," he said gently, "we are only seconds from the rest of the earth in any case, and no one could accuse you of shirking your duty to humanity." He accentuated the word "your" only slightly, but it was enough to make Hermione's heart lurch as she tightened her hands over his, leaning tightly into his warm chest.

"Do you think this is the last time we'll check on him?" she asked, stepping so she stood beside him, holding his hand.

He looked down at her. "One never knows when the last time for something is," he said quietly, "it does not do to dwell on the possibility." Feeling he might have spoken too harshly, he continued. "Besides, we will all be here for Easter break as well."

She nodded. "Why do you suppose he keeps that copy of our wedding photo?" she asked. His eyes flickered to the window, though nothing could be seen outside but darkness, then looked to where her fingers had twined into his against her side.

"We are his fortress."