Come What May

Chapter 8

When Severus awoke, he was on his back, grimacing. His back was stiff, and rolling over onto his side was challenging. Sleep called for him once more, and he struggled to stay awake. He had much to do that day. Potions to review, lessons to plan. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find Hermione sound asleep on her back, the covers thrown off of her. Her left hand was above her head, concealed by her thick curls. Her right arm was dangerously close to his body, and Severus was careful not to touch it. The supple skin of her inner thigh was exposed, her left leg bent. A small birthmark adorned the inside of her knee, and he longed to study it further. His eyes traveled the length of her body, smiling slightly at her elongated belly button exposed beneath the camisole she wore. She inhaled sharply and adjusted her position, rolling over onto her side towards him, her left hand tucked beneath her chin. Hermione smacked her lips slightly, and began to breathe heavy once more. The slim gold band on her ring finger sparkled in the morning sun streaming through his window.

Moving carefully, he slipped out of bed, walking as quietly as possible to the bathroom. He ran a hot shower, enjoying the water beat on his sore back. The years of being a Death Eater had worn on him, giving him both physical and emotional scars. As he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, Severus felt himself thinking back to the previous night. Watching the little witch emerge from his bathroom in that outfit, knowing full and well what might happen. The minx had prepared for it! Huffing, he ran his hand over the mirror to wipe away the condensation, studying himself. Severus's chest had a fair amount of hair, some tinted with the slightest touch of silver. Down his abdomen, his musculature was showing--he had worked hard for it. The wizard knew the only wait to combat the physical abuse he endured was to fight against it with exercise and strength-building. A thin trail of black hair led from beneath his belly button to below his belt line.

He dropped the towel, tossing it onto the sink. Running his fingers through his stringy, wet hair, Severus yawned, yearning for more sleep. He brushed his teeth quickly, applied deodorant and conjured his clothes from the wardrobe in his bedroom. As he finished the last button on his jacket, Severus then began to tie the scarf around his neck, tucking it down into the fabric at his chest. He swung the bathroom door open, tugging on the ends of the white shirt sleeves beneath his jacket. Severus paused for a moment, glancing at the women asleep in his bed. She had not moved, still sighing heavily. How could this be? A witch like her, sharing his bed? It felt foreign to him, this person invading his privacy. Severus gently closed the bedroom door behind him, making his way down the stairs, and taking a sharp right to stand before the door beneath the stair landing.

Speaking with soft breath, Snape pointed his wand at the keyhole, the door unlocking for him. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. His long fingers clutched the cold wood, his chest heaving. He felt sick to his stomach. It was wrong, having her there, living with him. Shaking the thought from his head, Severus moved to the center of the room in which his massive potions table resided. It was covered in shimmering blue dust, from a broken jar of powdered bluebonnets. In the center, above the bunsen burner was his gold cauldron, waiting to be used.

He brewed for what seemed like hours, intensely focusing on the important potion in front of him. Severus heard a knock at the door, freezing with his wand pointed at the cauldron.

"Yes?" He asked, waiting.

"I've had Dobby bring us lunch... If you want..." She must have been standing a ways back, as her voice sounded muffled.

After contemplating for a few brief moments, Severus decided he needed to eat. He could no longer ignore the rumbling of his stomach. Turning the heat down on the flame, he made his way to the door, opening it just enough to slip through. The witch was settled at the table in front of him, legs crossed beneath her. She wore a pair of black lounge pants and a maroon turtleneck. A pair of tortoise-shell spectacles rested on the tip of her nose, Hermione's finger reaching up to push them back up towards her bridge.