Mended

Eighteen

This is not his bed, he knows this, yet he refuses to open his eyes to commit to the day should it be a dream and he is transported once more to his damp, cold shack with the wind whipping through the wooden boards that greeted him each morning when he woke alone. It was not meant to be like this, he had specifically told himself that he would not find himself once more in her bed, but he was a bastard who continued to fall prey to his own urges. So, he is here, in his wife's bed, their daughter between them, and her cat curled against his leg.

The early morning sun filters through the window, blinding Severus even behind his closed lids. He lifts his arm and drapes it over his eyes to block the sun, his fingertips brushing against soft, warm hair that does not belong to him. His hair was currently being fisted and knotted by his daughters long, chubby fingers, one of her legs is thrown over his stomach, her toes digging into his ribs as he lies on his back and sighs deeply. She had not been in the bed last night when he fell asleep, neither had the cat, he had tucked her into her own bed himself twice before he went to bed himself and closed the bedroom door securely to keep the cat out. She must have woken again at one point during the night and persuade her mother into letting her climb in between them, and left the door open to allow the cat to scurry in uninvited.

Severus finally relents and opens his eyes as he turns his head away from the window, and towards his daughters sleeping form next to him on the bed. Her black, waving locks of hair are stuck to her face with saliva and sweat, Severus removes his arm from over his eyes and pushes the hair from her face. She lifts her eyebrows and chin momentarily at his touch, as if beginning to stir from her slumber before instantly settling back down; her hand remains locked in his hair, her grip tightening ever so slightly at the disturbance he had caused. It had been assumed, when she was a newborn with her long limbs, black hair, and high cheekbones that she looked like him, then as she aged a bit more and her features began to even out, it had been assumed that she looked like her mother. Now, however, it was evident that she looked like a spitting image of her grandfather, Sirius Black. Her eyes betrayed him, though, for they are the exact shade of his own father's. This beautiful, innocent, kindhearted child was somehow cursed to look like the two men he hated most in his life, the two men who caused him the most pain when he was nothing but a child himself. Of course, fate would be this cruel to him, he expected nothing less. He did not blame the child, of course, it was not her fault. Neither did it keep him from loving her.

He had never felt love like this before. Had never felt such a primal urge and desire to protect another human. Of course, he had the inclination to defend others when needed, but it did not run quite this deeply. He had never felt it course through his veins and hinder his thoughts. Before, he could watch a child walk past a stove and not stiffen in fear that the burner would be hot and they would place their hand upon it, not once was he terrified watching a child run down a hill should they trip and skin their knee, or worse, break a bone. He had never liked children before, or so he thought. As it turns out, he did not like other people's children; he loves his own. There were days though when he became frightened that Tobias would seep from his pores and poison her. Days when she refused to listen to reason, when she spilled a drink on the floor after he had told her to leave the cup at the table, or when she looked up at him with a menacing grin and sloshed bath water all down his front after being repeatedly told not to. These instances, however, only served to slightly agitate him, never could he fathom a circumstance so dire that he would be forced to use his fists or harsh words against her.

Each day was different with Lorna, more exciting. There were things that he could teach her, and she was so eager to learn. She trusted him blindly; she studied him intently as he spoke. He found himself waking in a good mood most days, optimistic for her future, yearning to see her grow. The guilt was there, gnawing at his spine for missing so much time with her, but he had time now. He would make up for it, he would make it right. She will never have a chance to long for a father because he will not leave her again.