I hold the universe when I hold you

7 Urano e Nettuno

Hermione hid in the wardrobe like a child.

"Oh thank Circe, Severus!"

Horace Slughorn had barged into Severus' sitting room, frantic. Hermione could just hear the old Potions Master through the wardrobe door, hidden among Severus' teaching robes and tunics.

"The Carrows...they were in the Slytherin Common Room! I ran them out before they broke into the young one's rooms, but..."

Hermione hugged her knees with her wand in her fingers, and ground her teeth.

"Where are they now, Horace?"

"Where were you, Severus? We have been trying to find you!" Horace snapped.

There was a sound of something being moved, but Hermione could not tell what it was.

"Where, Horace?"

Almost too softly to hear: "They brought Mulciber and Dolohov...in the Great Hall."

Dolohov. That was a face she would never forget despite him being dead for over 20 years. Severus had not seen her scar in the dark atop the cliff. It was one of several she could never seem to hide or minimize.

"Show me," she heard Severus hiss.

The change in air pressure and the resetting of wards told Hermione they had left, and with a sigh, she opened the wardrobe door.

It was always something. Always.

Near dawn, Severus returned and Hermione stirred, curling on the bed into a ball of forty-some year old limbs and wild hair. He shrugged out of his cloak and sighed.

Hermione shifted on the bed to stretch out on the far side from the door, and watched, hoping, but not expecting Severus to extinguish the lamps and candles and come into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, removed his boots then his tunic. Placing his wand on the bedside table, he carefully unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the front of his pants.

When he laid back on the bed, he blew a breath out and did not move for a long moment. Hermione had been on her side, facing him, her arms curled under her head. She felt like she was half dreaming, and rolled to press her back into his shoulder and arm at his side.

Curling around her, Hermione hummed pleasantly and closed her eyes, 'spooning' it felt so warm and nice. It was no matter that she wanted a shower or that her inner thighs itched. It was no matter that he smelled faintly of exertion or his nose was cold on the slope of her neck and shoulder. It was no matter that his bony knees dug into the back of her own. All that mattered was he held her close, arm sliding around her ribs to press into her left breast, over her heart and that she could run her toes over the front of his pant legs.

He was asleep before she was able to return to the warm, restful darkness. Hermione placed her hand over his and closed her eyes.

What a strange life she was having.

Severus woke before her and showered. He was dressed in his usual tunic and pants when he left the bathroom, gazing at her on the bed where she lay with her eyes barely cracked. It was another gray day, the rain coming down in buckets outside the enchanted windows. The castle was decidedly colder, and Hermione shivered at the room's temperature and Severus' gaze.

"It is nearly noon," he stated, folding his hands before him.

His hair was straggly from washing, and his face looked thinner, leaner, but the dark circles and the glamors to conceal them were gone. Hermione thought it might be some progress.