Chapters 101-110

Curiouser and Curiouser

She lay curled up at his side, her left leg slung across his, her arm stretched over his chest, her head nestled into the crook of his arm. As if she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t disappear. The lion’s mane she called hair flowed all over him. He didn’t even have to tilt his head to inhale her scent. Vervain, and she’d been using the Muggle variety of her bathing lotion again.

His body ached all over, inside and out. His mind…He remembered one of the sayings Dumbledore had been so fond of.

‘To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’

A proverb that was wrong on so many levels. But it was the term ‘well-organized’ that bothered him this morning. His arm wrapped around Hermione’s bony shoulders. His hand dipped into the wealth of her curls, playing with the recalcitrant strands until his fingertips found the gentle curve of her neck.

Severus felt a self-deprecating smile tug at the corners of his mouth. ‘Well-organized’ and ‘in love’ were mutually exclusive terms. He’d watched enough love-struck couples over the years to know this for a fact. And…he did remember how it felt. Distantly. From days long gone and never completely forgotten. But the memory had changed, he realised. To the way you fondly remember the flickering flame of a fine candle as you sit entranced, ensconced, by the warmth of a roaring fire. He frowned. It seemed you were not safe from maudlin tendencies when you were in love even at his age.

His fingers strayed to Hermione’s temple, brushing away a clump of curls, so he could reach her sensitive skin. She sighed at the touch of his lips and moved closer, pressing her curves against him, while her hand slipped into his pyjama.

‘Good morning,’ she murmured. Her voice was throaty, hoarse with sleep.

Inwardly he cursed himself. She was exhausted, he should have let her wake on her own. But before he had a chance to say something, her hand crept carefully downwards. The sleepiness seeping out of her brown eyes even as he was watching. Instead they were beginning to gleam with an amber fire.

…need…desire…love…

He pulled her on top of him, his hands framing her precious face. He traced her lips with his finger. A wide, generous mouth, the lower lip distinctly fuller. For once she was not chewing on it, but parted her lips lightly under his touch.

He lifted his head a little. She bent down. Their lips met.

oooOooo

‘How are you feeling now?’ Hermione asked afterwards, once more clinging to his left side like a bushy-haired human burr.

‘Not so bad now,’ Severus murmured, although he felt utterly exhausted. The residue of pain in newly mended bones as well as the ache of assorted bruises and lacerations were increasing from a steady throb to insistent agony. But he did not feel bad. He was much too…he blinked. Happy? It seemed such an alien concept. But he supposed he might be, or nearly. Safe. Sort of sound. At home with the woman who loved him. With the woman he loved.

Hermione propped herself up on her right elbow and looked down at him. She didn’t hesitate anymore before touching him, but simply brought her hand up to his cheek. Gently, she trailed her fingertips around his face. Her touch was infinitely tender when she smoothed the lines of pain that he knew bracketed his mouth.

‘Liar,’ she said softly. Then she slipped from the covers and circled the bed. ‘There’s still enough Pain Potion left for a good dose.’ Hermione squinted at the jar of the bruise balm and at the Sunshine Salve intended for lacerations and more…interior injuries. ‘I might have to Floo up to Poppy and get more of this.’

‘I trust you will dress before you do so,’ he commented.

Hermione grinned at him impishly. Dressed only in naked skin and curls—a riotous cloud around her head, a tamer triangle above the apex of her thighs—she looked very much like an imp: mischievous and wild.

‘Maybe I will. Although Poppy’s seen me naked before and I’d be quicker back in bed with you if I didn’t bother.’

‘In that case, ask her for some cough potion as well, so we can start treating your incipient pneumonia well in advance.’

oooOooo

Harry frowned at himself as his feet were automatically taking him to Draco’s office. When had the Ferret become the one he turned to as a friend and confidant at the end of every other day?

Before he could knock, Draco’s smooth voice was already calling out to him, ‘I’m almost ready—come in, Potter.’

He slouched into the room and threw himself into the visitor’s chair. Draco was momentarily invisible behind a wobbling stack of parchments that was being levitated towards a big shelf of square compartments that were labelled according to the various sections of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement.

‘So how’s your boss taking the disappointment?’ Harry asked as he watched Draco separate the results of his daily labour into the appropriate cubby-holes.

A scroll stopped midair and started jittering, as Draco turned to Harry.

‘That’s just it,’ Draco said at last. ‘You’d have thought that Umbridge would be livid at the pardon, right? But she’s not. She acts as if she couldn’t care less that Snape’s out of her reach for good now. But she’s still gloating at having defeated you in court.’

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ commented Harry, idly rubbing his scar. ‘The dog did nothing at night-time. I don’t like that.’

‘You and your Muggle quotes.’ Draco rolled his eyes, but his voice held no rancour. ‘How about some drinks in the Leaky Cauldron?’

‘You just want to flirt with Hannah,’ Harry accused his friend.

Draco grinned unrepentantly. ‘And if I do? Besides, Ginny might show up, too, once she’s finished at the Prophet.’

oooOooo

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