Come Back To Me

Realisations and Revelations.
Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman's work, this woman's world.
Ooh, it's hard on the man, now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.

I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things I should've said, that I never said.
All the things we should've done, that we never did.
All the things I should've given, but I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go, make it go away.

Give me those moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.

(I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.)

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things we should've said, that were never said.
All the things we should've done, that we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go away.
Just make it go away now.
This Woman’s Work – Kate Bush.


Hermione slept fitfully during the night, tossing and turning, her mind racing as she replayed the events of the previous day. Did Padraig happen to stumble across her in the innocent manner in which she had first perceived their meeting, or did Minerva have a part to play? If she was pushing her towards Padraig, what did she hope to achieve? Minerva hadn’t seemed all that surprised when she had returned with Padraig in tow and that troubled Hermione: she respected her mentor, but if she was trying to push them together she wasn’t sure how she would react.

She finally awoke at 5:30. She groaned as she rolled over to peer through sleepy eyes at the glaring alarm clock. Deciding that she was unlikely to get any further sleep Hermione slowly sat up, untangling the sheets and blankets from her limbs as she rose. She grabbed her dressing gown and crept silently from her room to the kitchen. Casting a silencing spell she prepared a mug of black coffee and stared out of the kitchen window at the swirl of early morning mist.

She picked up her mug and crept out the back door and stood watching the sun rise over the rolling hillside outside Minerva’s cottage. She was mesmerised by the colours as they changed from orange through to yellow, painting the dark sky with multicoloured early morning light. The cool air chilled her slightly; she took a sip from her mug of still steaming coffee and sighed as the coffee warmed her from the inside.

Hermione descended from the porch and slowly meandered down to the bottom of the garden. She didn’t register the dew-damp grass brushing the bare soles of her feet as she made her way to the foot of the garden; she continued to ponder Minerva’s reaction to Padraig’s presence.

When Hermione reached the bottom of the garden she leaned back against the gnarled trunk of an oak tree. Her mind drifted to the morning Severus had surprised her whilst they camped in the Forest of Dean. They had arranged, via the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, to meet a short walk from where the trio where camping. A tear slid down Hermione’s cheek as she remembered how safe she had felt wrapped in Severus’s embrace. They had discussed the most likely places that Bellatrix would have chosen to stow the Hufflepuff cup.

She crept out from the tent early that morning whilst Harry and Ron slept. Leaving the tent she made her way to the oldest, most gnarled and resilient looking tree. Leaning against the trunk Hermione waited for Severus to arrive.

She spun, wand at the ready as she heard the soft ‘pop’ of Severus’s arrival in the small clearing.

“Severus, I’m so glad to see you!” she squealed.

“Shush, my nymph, we don’t want to wake your cohorts.”

“They sleep like the dead.”

Severus frowned as Hermione placed a kiss on his cheek.

“You need to relax a bit,” she whispered.

“I can’t relax, love, The Dark Lord grows restless; he’s been off searching for something in Europe...”

“Harry mentioned he’d seen Vold...”

“Don’t. Say. His. Name. He has Snatchers looking for you.”

Hermione shook the memory from her mind, looking at her wrist watch; realising time was slipping by,she turned to return to the cottage.

She was surprised to meet Minerva as she approached the cottages back door. The older witch looked at her with concern.

“I wondered where you had got to,” Minerva stated as she looked the younger witch up and down.

“Sorry, Minerva, I had trouble sleeping last night,” Hermione replied.

“Would you like me to Floo Poppy for some Dreamless Sleep?”

“Thank you, but that really isn’t necessary.”

“As you wish, my dear.”

Silently, Minerva and Hermione made their way back to the cottage. Minerva sat and had breakfast whilst Hermione disappeared to get ready.

* * * * *

He stared at the young woman before him, mesmerised by her beauty. Her lips were swollen from his possessive and passionate kisses, eyes half lidded with an unbridled desire for him. The soft blush of her cheeks spread down her neck and stretched tantalisingly across the swell of her wonderful breasts. His hands ghosted upwards from her hips to her breasts, her taut nipples called to him. Leaning forward he kissed her left breast as his right hand gently teased and tweaked the other. His tongue circled, flicked and licked caressing her nipple before biting playfully; eliciting a moan of ardour. Her incoherent babbling drove him on, encouraging him to suck at the same time his cock began to swell and twitch within its fabric prison.

“Merlin, witch, you’ll be the death of me,” he growled. His voice, low and seductive like molten chocolate, elicited more mumbling as her hips moved against his.

She whimpered as his hand moved down from her breast, ghosting over her soft curves. No longer existing on berries and mushrooms since the end of the war, she had regained her womanly form. She murmured her disapproval as his mouth released her nipple, and she gasped as his mouth travelled up to her swollen lips. Reflexively her fingers curled within his hair; massaging his scalp as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss as his lips found hers.

If this was love, he’d willingly pass through the veil to have it.

His left hand arrived at its destination; gradually his fingers pushed aside the slip of cloth that covered her sex. His murmur was mirrored by hers as his fingers moved forward seeking her clit; she bucked against him trying to direct his ministrations. Slowly he moved his fingers back towards her entrance; teasingly he circled before slipping into her with a single finger.

She keened as a finger slipped into her, followed by a second; little by little he moved building the pace she whimpered when he withdrew completely stepping back from her.

“Bed. Now!” he growled as he made his way across the room. She followed him, stopping just in front of him. “May I?” he asked as his fingers twined the waistband of her cotton knickers.

Unsure of her voice, she merely nodded her consent as her eyelids closed and her chest heaved sucking in air to breathe.

He inhaled deeply, desperately trying to control his growing desire to join with her. His need burned within him like a roaring, savage fire. He needed her, just as surely as she needed him.

Reverently he knelt before her gently pulling her knickers down. She stepped out of them before sitting on the edge of the four poster bed. “Please,” she murmured, twining her fingers in his hair once more. “Please, make love to me.”

Two fingers entered her as his mouth found her clit. He sucked and licked as his fingers slid in and out. She fell back on the bedspread, her hips arching to meet him wanting more but unable to form the words. His cock twitched; wordlessly he removed his clothing, he shuddered as he felt the cool air on his heated, naked skin.

She whimpered as his lips left her, turning he placed a kiss on the milk-white skin of her inner thigh. Standing, he manoeuvred her into the centre of the bed before joining her.

Slowly he rocked against her, causing his erection to move along her, before positioning himself, ready to enter her, desperate to become one.

Her voice deserted her as his eyes locked with hers, a nod of her head and the burning desire in her eyes the only way for her to communicate her need for him. With a snap of his hips he was sheathed within her. His groan mirrored by her as she arched upwards to meet him.

Severus woke as her name fell from his lips: “Hermione.” His body shook as he came undone. With a whimper he rolled over, burying his face in the cool pillow.

Disgust rose within him. He’d come undone, like an over-sexed teenager to a dream of a woman he could no longer hope to be with. Lifting his head from the pillow he searched for his wand, unable to locate it he rolled onto his back before slowly sitting. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he was thankful when he remembered his room was en-suite. Summoning all his inner reserve, he rose from the bed, grasping the canes Trewella insisted he use, and determinedly made his way across to the small bathroom.

Switching on the shower, he waited for the water to warm before stepping underneath it. The warm water soothed his dismay as he washed away the traces of his reaction to the dream. He didn’t hear Lucius enter the room, nor the sound of his breakfast tray being left. All he heard was the pounding of water as it fell from his body into the porcelain bath.

* * * * *

Lucius entered the room, determined to apologise for his outburst the previous evening. He was surprised not to find Severus within his bed; he was even more surprised at the haphazard arrangement of the sheets. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and something he couldn’t pinpoint. It was then that he heard the combination of running water and heart breaking sobs. Deciding that for once discretion was the better part of valour, he placed the breakfast tray on the small coffee table turned and left his friend undisturbed.

* * * * *

Hermione stepped from the shower, expertly twining her hair in the small towel before spell-drying her skin. Wrapping a larger towel around herself, she made her way across the room and starred into the mirror above the sink. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she murmured before casting the glamour without a second thought.

She gradually removed the towel from her hair and with a practiced arc of her wand the no longer damp mass of curls fell softly over her shoulders – Severus would have chided her for foolish wand waving - but it got the job done.

She padded across the floor to her bedroom, retrieved her jeans and bra from the heap of clothes in the floor and retrieved a pair of knickers from the drawer in the dresser.

* * * * *

Padraig stood on the doorstep, nervously shuffling from one foot to the other. He was sure that Minerva had given the game away the night before with her less than shocked welcome when he had appeared at the cottage with Hermione. How would Hermione react to him? Had she already started to ponder their “accidental” meeting? Did she already suspect that all was not what it seemed? Would she still wish to go on the picnic with him? He hoped that she did, as he was longing to take her to the place he went to in order to feel closer to Olivia.

He didn’t have to wait long before Minerva opened the door to him. “Padraig, please come in.” She stepped back to allow entrance.

“Is she ready?”

“I am,” Hermione replied as she crossed the room to stand between them.

“I thought we might go see Powerscourt House and the waterfall.”

Minerva’s smile turned wistful. “Oh, I remember the first time Albus took me to Powerscourt. It’s a magical place. I can’t believe I forgot to take you there,” she enthused as she held Hermione’s gaze. “You’ll enjoy the gardens, I think, Hermione.”

“Well, if we are to see the house, gardens and waterfall, we need to get going,” Padraig replied as he stepped towards the breakfast bar. “Is this the basket for our picnic?”

Minerva roused herself. “Yes. There’s wine and plenty of food. Go. Have fun, no need to rush back.”

Hermione could have sworn that Minerva “twinkled” as she pushed the pair out of the door. Shaking the thought from her head she followed Padraig to a secluded spot from which they could Apparate.

* * * * *

Severus stepped from the shower and dried himself with a towel, before dressing in casual trousers and a black jumper. Steadily he walked across the room to where his breakfast tray had been left. A casual flick and the warming charm disappeared. Lifting the silver cover from the food he smelled the bacon and eggs, breathing deeply before he made short work of the food before him.

Sated, he called Waldo to collect the tray. The house-elf appeared and removed the tray without a word. Severus snorted; at least one of the Malfoy household was keeping quiet.

Slowly, he rose from the chair by the coffee table and shuffled the small distance to the wing-backed chair and resumed his perusal of the old papers. Lucius had kept anything which had a report about Hermione, Draco or Hogwarts.

* * * * *

Narcissa watched as Lucius departed for the day, he had another meeting at St Mungo’s and then he was meeting up with Draco. Satisfied that Lucius wouldn’t be returning, Narcissa decided that now was the time for her to talk with Severus.

* * * * *

Severus sat reading an article in a back copy of Potioneer Monthly scribbling notes on a scrap of paper. The article was causing his ire to build, it was written by a peer with whom he’d had numerous disagreements over formulation and potential enhancements that could be made to some potions. He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear Narcissa enter the room. He jumped when she placed her cool hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Severus, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was wondering if you would care to join me for lunch later. Perhaps afterwards we could go for a walk around the garden; I liked some ideas from you on where best to situate the garden for your potions ingredients,” Narcissa said quietly.

With a heavy sigh Severus turned slightly to face her.

“You won’t grant me any peace until I agree, will you?”

“Some say I am a persistent witch.”

Severus snorted.

“You, Narcissa, are almost as bloody minded as Minerva, and let me tell you, she has the fortitude of a mountain goat... much like Albus.” As he mentioned the former headmaster’s name his head sank towards his chest and he took a moment to compose himself. “I will join you, Narcissa, not because I want to, but because I wish to placate you.”

“I will leave you alone then; I’ll expect you downstairs at 12:30.”

With a triumphant smile on her lips, Narcissa turned and left Severus to his musing.

* * * * *

Hermione stumbled away from Padraig as they arrived at Powerscourt house; after the number of times she’d Side-Along Apparated she ought to be prepared for arrival by now.

She took a deep breath taking in the scent of the flowers that surrounded them. Padraig had Apparated them to a secluded spot. Giggling, Hermione made her way out to the clearing.

“I hope we don’t need to come back here to Apparate later today?” she asked.

“No, we’ll visit the waterfall last, by that time there should be fewer Muggles about and we should be able to just Apparate back to Minerva’s.”

“Well, come on then, let’s go look at this house you are so eager to show me and the gardens that had Minerva turn all whimsical on us.”

Padraig smirked as Hermione headed off; from what Minerva had told him, this must be what Hermione was like before the war.

Hermione gasped as the house came into view, she had thought that Russborough was a striking home but Powerscourt was breath taking. The avenue which lead straight up to the Palladian house mirrored the magnificence of their surroundings. Looking about her, Hermione gasped at the beauty of the sculpted gardens.

“Well, if you’re impressed by this I have no idea how you’re going to respond to our picnic site,” Padraig stated as he lead Hermione further up the avenue.

* * * * *

Narcissa sat waiting for Severus to join her. Whilst waiting, she contemplated what it was she wanted to say to her. It was as plain as the nose on his face that Severus still cared for the Muggle-born witch, the problem was, that when he made his mind up to take one direction it had always been difficult to sway him in an opposite direction.

Narcissa turned as she heard a tap, tap, tap as Severus approached. She rose and opened the door, waiting for him to arrive.

“Severus.” She stepped aside to allow him to enter. “It’s good to see you out and about. I dare say that you could do with a change to the four walls you normal stare at.”

“Enough small talk, Narcissa, let’s eat and then you can get to the item at the top of your agenda,” Severus growled as he tried to hide the pain he felt. “Don’t look at me like that, Cissa, I’ve known you for far too long to believe that you don’t have an agenda in mind.

Narcissa smiled as she made her way back across the room to the table.

“You always were more perceptive than my dear husband.”

“Enough of false platitudes, Narcissa, eat, then we shall talk like grownups.” As if to underline his refusal to talk, Severus picked up a sandwich and began to eat in silence.

* * * * *

“So, have you decided when you will go to Spinner’s End yet, Hermione?”

“Padraig, please, I know I need to go to Severus’ home but...”

“No buts, Hermione, it’ll be part of the healing process. Where’s your Gryffindor bravery?”

Hermione gave Padraig a watery smile. “Severus always referred to the perceived Gryffindor bravery as hell bent stupidity.”

“Be that as it may, you need to face your perceived demons. I’m sure Spinner’s End will just be your average two-up-two-down, completely insignificant.”

“There’s every chance that he could have left something...”

Padraig wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist, causing Hermione to stiffen.

“There is a possibility that you will find all sorts of trinkets and treasures, hell, you might even find a picture of him with Lily Evans.”

“Padraig, you’re not helping, you know, with comments like that.”

Gradually she removed Padraig’s arms. Turning to face him she looked directly at him.

“Padraig, was our meeting truly accidental?”

Padraig held Hermione’s gaze. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me. I’ve been manipulated and toyed with since I was eleven, I’m not a silly girl, I am a young woman, trying to make sense of the world I live in now, trying to heal after my dreams were torn from me. I can’t just forget Severus, we meant too much to each other.”

“No one is expecting you to completely forget him, Hermione, but hiding in a stone castle, building barriers and keeping those who care for you at arm’s length isn’t living. As I’ve already said, I’m pretty sure Severus would not want you to wallow in pity.”

Hermione’s calm face suddenly coloured with rage.

“You’re just like everybody else. You don’t understand. You witter on about your lost love, but you act like what Severus and I shared was trivial, insignificant... I wanted to be his wife, I wanted to be his passion, I wanted to fulfil his every desire...”

“Then grasp life with both of your hands, Hermione. Follow the dreams you shared, become the woman he saw in you. The fighter, the light of his life, the reason he kept fighting.”

“You really area piece of work, Padraig, how long has it taken you to get over Olivia? Oh, hang on, You haven’t got over Olivia, have you?” she spat. Turning she ran down the path into the Italian garden, not really caring where she ended up. She had hoped that he was different; that he understood her heartache, but his words confirmed her darkest fears – no one understood how lost she felt without Severus.

---

As always, I don’t own Potterverse; it belongs to JK Rowling and others too numerous to mention.

Thanks as always to Beth and Scoffy for hand holding and mopping up my typo’s.