Drabbles iTunica
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,691
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,691
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
We Could Have Been the Closest of Friends
She lay awake in bed that night, gazing up at the draperies. He’d fallen asleep nearly an hour ago, but rest would not come to her. They’d left the hospital wing and returned to his chambers, to their chambers. But she was no closer to having a solution to the situation than she had been when she’d first arrived in that cold room earlier in the day.
Hermione tried closing her eyes, tried thinking about everything else, but nothing could quell her mind. The guilt of raising a child in such an awkward situation, in a relationship that was too young and too loosely based to be guaranteed to last; it was too much for her. What if after the child was born, he left her; unable to deal with raising a child, after all his tolerance for children didn’t seem terribly high. Or what if she was unable to go through with it, and she left him after the child was born. What sort of life would that create for the child?
These thoughts and a thousand questions more plagued her mind while he slept, until she could take it no more. Slipping from the bed, she padded across the room and hung her head. They usually slept curled in each other’s embrace, but she’d tried to fall asleep on her back and he had succeeded on his, so there was no chance of waking him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and left the room.
The make-shift procedure room was cold, perhaps even colder than before. Again she shivered in the paper gown, this time with her head resting back on the table, her legs spread and holstered in stirrups. “Are you sure you don’t want a potion, dear?” the mediwitch asked.
Hermione nodded and closed her eyes.
He wasn’t sure what stirred him from his slumber, but upon rolling over and discovering her absence from his bed, Severus bolted upright. She was nowhere to be found; not sitting on their couch with a book, or curled up on the rug by the hearth where she normally was when she had trouble sleeping. With a quick whip of his wand he opened the secret floo connection he had insisted upon between his chambers and hers, only to find them vacant.
It wasn’t until he was wrapped tightly in his thick black robe, pacing through his office that the thought dawned on him. His step was quickened, caring not that his feet were bare and that he wore little more than a night robe. There were so many staircases between his chambers in the dungeons and the hospital wing, and the staircases seemed to be in no mood to help.
By the time he’d reached the corridor leading there Severus was practically running. His feet slapped against the cold stone floor, and he crashed through the doors, finding the waiting area empty. A light in one of the far back rooms caught his eye and he thundered forward, only to be stopped by the figure of the mediwitch.
“She shouldn’t see anyone now,” she said. “She’ll need some time to recover.”
Hermione tried closing her eyes, tried thinking about everything else, but nothing could quell her mind. The guilt of raising a child in such an awkward situation, in a relationship that was too young and too loosely based to be guaranteed to last; it was too much for her. What if after the child was born, he left her; unable to deal with raising a child, after all his tolerance for children didn’t seem terribly high. Or what if she was unable to go through with it, and she left him after the child was born. What sort of life would that create for the child?
These thoughts and a thousand questions more plagued her mind while he slept, until she could take it no more. Slipping from the bed, she padded across the room and hung her head. They usually slept curled in each other’s embrace, but she’d tried to fall asleep on her back and he had succeeded on his, so there was no chance of waking him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and left the room.
The make-shift procedure room was cold, perhaps even colder than before. Again she shivered in the paper gown, this time with her head resting back on the table, her legs spread and holstered in stirrups. “Are you sure you don’t want a potion, dear?” the mediwitch asked.
Hermione nodded and closed her eyes.
He wasn’t sure what stirred him from his slumber, but upon rolling over and discovering her absence from his bed, Severus bolted upright. She was nowhere to be found; not sitting on their couch with a book, or curled up on the rug by the hearth where she normally was when she had trouble sleeping. With a quick whip of his wand he opened the secret floo connection he had insisted upon between his chambers and hers, only to find them vacant.
It wasn’t until he was wrapped tightly in his thick black robe, pacing through his office that the thought dawned on him. His step was quickened, caring not that his feet were bare and that he wore little more than a night robe. There were so many staircases between his chambers in the dungeons and the hospital wing, and the staircases seemed to be in no mood to help.
By the time he’d reached the corridor leading there Severus was practically running. His feet slapped against the cold stone floor, and he crashed through the doors, finding the waiting area empty. A light in one of the far back rooms caught his eye and he thundered forward, only to be stopped by the figure of the mediwitch.
“She shouldn’t see anyone now,” she said. “She’ll need some time to recover.”