Come What May

Chapter 32

Severus shifted back from his wife, her face ghostly white and damp. She reeled backwards, shoving her hand roughly against his sternum to force him away. "Stay away!" the witch screamed with an exasperated voice, still trying to catch her breath.

"It's me." His hands stretched out for her once more, but she had dug the heels of her trainers into the soggy ground to propel herself backwards. Hermione's lips had turned downward into a sneer of disgust, her lower teeth bared in an animalistic state.

"How can I trust you?" She interrogated. From her position on the grass, Hermione noticed how the moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of Severus' cheek bones. It shadowed over the contrasting sunken skin, evidence of malnourishment painfully present. He paused, considering her question; Severus' head was tilted slightly, his face turned downwards.

In response, he fell silent, moving away from her to push himself from the ground. Hermione watched as he shadowed her; fear struck her momentarily. She did not recognize the man standing in front of her, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You have come all this way for me, and now you've decided you don't trust me?"

The witch shot up from the ground, storming towards Severus, her wand whipped out to jab under his chin. "I can't trust the poison coursing through your veins."

He stiffened, and beneath his beard Hermione could see his lips turn downwards into a scowl, his nostrils flaring. His hands were raised slowly in a sign of innocence on either side of his head.

"Trust that I don't want it to. I need you," he replied, eyes red-rimmed and shining in the moonlight. Hermione lowered her wand, swallowing heavily. Her breath shook through her, fogged air popping in short bursts in front of her mouth. "Come, let's get out of this cold."

Hermione followed with content, Severus turning on his bare feet to walk towards the front door. He wore a pair of black pants, stopping at the ankles. The paleness of his feet were caked with a thick layer of mud, half dried. In the bright white moon, Hermione could see through the flimsy white linen shirt, a painful sight to see; Severus' ribs were exposed beneath the sheath of his skin. He was dying, she realized.

Her husband picked up the blanket from the stoop, draping it over his naked forearm. As Severus entered into the front room, the door creaking open, Hermione stepped up behind him. The room was poorly lit, a few dimly glowing candles scattered about the room. Something, she thought, was missing. Then, with sober realization, Hermione discovered that the room was empty. No part of the cottage appeared to be a home for Severus. It was merely a place, a sort of dwelling, for him to come and die.

"I came... I came because I think I've figured it out."

Severus's eyes and mouth fell open, a single, thick black eyebrow raised high into his forehead. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, pulling her to him fiercely. She rubbed her cheek roughly against the wiry hair covering his exposed chest, taking in the scent she had so dearly missed over the last weeks separated from him.

"What is it?" he asked as she slipped away from him, her hand wound up through his heavy beard.

"Me," Hermione replied, nodding quickly as a smile spread over her face. "I think it's me."

Furrowing his brow, Severus moved further into the room, stepping off the worn door mat, sinking into the sofa across from the simmering fireplace. Hermione sat into a damaged leather arm chair, crossing her legs beneath her.

"How?"

"The prophecy states that we can only defeat the serpent with our other half... So, I think it's me."