Custody Battle

“That was so mature, Blake!” she shouted, once again behind the closed door that led into the front sitting room. Severus found himself seated at the kitchen table of the Davonshire household, a bag of ice on his swollen nose. Hermione had refused to allow him to fix it with his wand, worried that he might turn a hex on her husband. He could hear their pacing about and sighed.

“He kissed you, Hermione! I saw it with my own two eyes! What else was I supposed to do?”

“How did you even get to Hogsmeade?” she shouted.

“What does it matter how I got there? Apparently it was just in time!”

“You don’t trust me!”

“And with good reason it seems!”

“You said it, he kissed me! What was I supposed to do? Push him off me, in case you didn’t notice I did!”

Severus closed his eyes, the swelling in his nose hurt like hell and he was half tempted to just leave the ice bag on the table and apparate away. It was the tiny blonde girl, Emma, who stopped him. “Mummy and daddy fight?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said and gazed down at her. She seemed frightened.

“I wanna hug,” she pouted and began to tear up.

It was far beyond his realm of expertise, and yet, somehow he knew. Setting the ice down on the table, he crouched down on the floor and scooped the little blonde girl up into his arms. She buried her face against his frock coat, and he was sure he’d be covered with snot and tears by the time it was all said and done, but he didn’t seem to mind as much. He felt shocked, awe stricken at how she didn’t tremble or cry because of him, most people, especially young children, were frightened by his mere presence. But this little girl was sobbing, clinging to him because she could hear the raised voices of her parents.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said softly and kept his arms close around the little girl. She’d stopped her crying mostly, and laid her head atop his shoulder.

The door to the front room flew open. “Why do you have to be like that? It was a mistake, Blake!” Hermione shouted, following her husband into the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” Blake growled. He stormed toward Severus. “Get your paws off my daughter!”

“Blake!” she shouted, moving quickly between the two men, pulling Emma out from Severus’ arms.

“He was—”

“Hugging her! All your yelling has the poor thing frightened!” she hissed, and kissed the girl all over her face. “It’s okay, mummy’s here…” she cooed, and swung the girl around.

“Why are you defending him?” her husband narrowed her eyes at the man. “Hermione, I swear if I didn’t know better I’d—”

“Don’t you dare say it, Blake! I swear!” she spat, and Emma began to cry once more. “Oh, shhh, mummy’s sorry. It’s alright, come on…” she cooed and showered the girl’s face with kisses once more. “Come on, let’s have daddy take you upstairs, ok?” and she handed her red-faced daughter to Blake. He narrowed his eyes at Hermione and then sneered in Severus’ general direction before stalking out of the room, daughter in toe.

She stared at him for a long moment, waiting until he’d disappeared up the stairs before turning back to Severus. “You should sit down, and put the ice back on your nose.”

“I don’t think it’s a wise idea for me to stay,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“We don’t yell often,” she spoke quickly over him. “But it always scares the daylights out of Emma when we do.” Her eyes fell to the floor.

“I deserved it.”

“What?” she looked up at him, mind flustered, clearly somewhere else.

“The punch, he has a decent right hook.”

Hermione shook her head. “He was out of line and he shouldn’t have—”

He waved his hand up to silence her. “Yes, yes he should have. I was the one out of line. I kissed you. You’re married.”

“Yes,” she said and her eyes fell to the ground but only for the briefest of moments before she gazed back at him. “Yes, I am. And yes, you were out of line…” she bit her lower lip, and then she sighed. “He still shouldn’t have punched you. Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

It hung in the air, thick and unspoken. Yes, he’d kissed her, but she’d responded, almost too willingly, and if she wasn’t going to admit to it or mention it, then he would not bring it up. Perhaps he’d imagined it, perhaps she’d stayed still against him as he’d done eleven years ago, but he could have sworn he’d felt her tongue on his. “I should be going,” he nodded in the general direction of the stairs that Blake had gone up. “It seems you may have some problems of your own to attend to,” and he nodded to her.

“Please, don’t go,” she said and then fell silent.

“I certainly can’t stay,” he scoffed, passing her by and moving slowly down the tiny hallway between the kitchen and the front foyer. “I’ll be needed back at Hogwarts and you should talk with your husband.”

“But we haven’t resolved anything concerning—”

“Hermione, it would seem I’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” he said and then turned to look over his shoulder at her. “I won’t say anything to the girl—” he caught the words too late on his lips. “To Caterina. I won’t say anything to Caterina until we’ve had a chance to discuss this further,” his words were solid, heavy in his throat. “And we shall have to discuss it soon. If the students are anything like they were when you were there, and I suspect they’re far worse these days, then she’ll already have been teased about it.”

She nodded slowly, and then walked quickly up behind him, touching her hand to the top of his shoulder as he pulled the door open. “Severus?”

Closing his eyes, he turned once more to face her, and then gazed down into her eyes. They were like cinnamon, swirled over thick molasses, with a dollop of coffee and amber flecks resting within and for a moment he nearly lost himself. “Yes?”

“I am sorry,” she muttered. “I should have told you.”

“Indeed.” Two steps out the door and he disapparated with a soft, ‘pop.’