The 25th Hour

Thank you to Fervesco for her brilliant beta work.. I cannot believe that I have survived so long without a beta...generic warning of \'don\'t blame me if you are easily offended and have to run to your mummies for comfort after reading this.\'.. I am 4 chapters in so far, and so far there is nothing too squeeky... but I can\'t promise it will stay that way, hence the NC-17 rating

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The First Hour… 6 am

Hermione groaned as the first light of the day permeated the slits between the blood red velvet drapes surrounding her bed. Instinctively her arm reached for her lover, but found only a cool emptiness beside her. Something once so common and accepted, now unnatural. Alien despite its familiarity. She curled up on her side and pulled the duck down doona over her head, ignoring the suffocating claustrophobia flooding her senses. Her mind hiding from a greater evil. Not wanting to face a day, another one started as this. Another Friday, waking in her bed.

Alone.

Because it was not something that she cherished. Waking in her bed. And not for the first time having to wake alone on a Friday, and it caused her to shed a lonely and unknown tear, like all of its predecessors, silently and unceremoniously falling to her pillow. As her mind cleared from the cloud of her dreams and fantasies she was assaulted with the bare violence of reality, the all too familiar sensations of anticipation and dread caused her pain to resurface.

And inevitably the face of her lover, her beloved flashed in her mind. And more acidic tears, stripping her soul and denying her the comfort she craved, caused the pain to heighten.

And it encompassed her whole being. The pain that caused her to double up and cringe. The pain that caused her to wail into her pillow on each such morning that she woke in her bed.

Alone.

And even knowing that tomorrow she would wake in his bed, wrapped in his arms again safe and calm. And even knowing that tonight she would be in his arms as he rocked her, as he loved her, as he made her a part of his very being. Even knowing this there was naught she could do to avoid waking in her bed on a Friday morning.

Alone.

And the thought caused her calm assured breaths to rapidly lighten and increase to a dangerously intoxicating, mind numbing, body tingling high of anxiety, desire and need…

Time and a burning frustration lost on a limited passage gifted by the cosmos, or the Gods… and ruled by authority that had no rights in her world, in her mind. In her heart.

And none which had granted him anything from their graces.

Not the cosmos and its magic.

Not the Gods and their blessed protection.

Not the authority that chose to condemn and choke him, who dared attempt to drain him of all his dignity. To banish from the world who would become she was sure, the dark angel of redemption and savoir of the light.

But even in the moment of anticipated triumph, brewing beneath the decades of fear and uncertainty of those wanting their birth right of a free and unadulterated blessed life, she was sure he would be overlooked. That he would be seen as the traitor.

And he would be condemned once more for the sins of all others who had walked before him. That cursed him behind his back. That conspired to ruin him.

But to this day even had failed

And the world as a whole would never know how very much they were in his debt. And those around him would never know how much he gave in the most pure, unselfish acts of personal and, ultimately, community sacrifices.

And no one would know how much he meant to her.

Severus Snape. Potions Master. Former Death Eater. Spy.

That she loved him more than her own life. And that she prayed every moment of the day that he felt that same way about her. And that by some miracle they both may survive the long looming war for blood dominance.

And that in the perfect world he would be instrumental in creating, with his own blood, with his own sacrifice, his constantly searching love for her… her standing of birth would hold no meaning. And there would be acceptance and appreciation for what all had been granted. And he would be worshipped as he should be, and she would be the one standing by his side.

The one honoured to continue his family line.

The one to embrace him after more than a century of love, companionship and what he desired most – family, as he lay on his death bed. A weary wizard whose infamy and achievements transcended all time and all prejudices.

But it was only another dream. And as her mind was once again forced into acknowledgement of a new Friday, she threw back the covers of her bed, the one in which she had awoken alone, and willed herself to her bathroom with the same determination and strength she knew she needed to provide for them both.

As much as she hated Friday, she would not let him face it alone.

As long as she drew breath, he would never face any day again without her. She would make sure that he would never be alone in his suffering again. For everything he had granted her… her new life.

Even and especially on Friday.

Never again for him to confront alone.