I hold the universe when I hold you

8 pioggia di meteoriti

Severus only slept a few hours flat on his back on the floor. Hermione had washed, cleared her pomegranate and switched off the gramophone. There was no way she could sleep.

The things he had seen, the things he had had to do, it angered her to the point that she could not sleep. Instead, she sat in his chair, curled up again, watching him sleep, and turning it all over in her head. Severus had a limit, one he was quickly reaching. Thinking of everyone else who had survived past May 2nd, everyone who had survived with varying degrees of trauma. Those like Pius Thicknesse who had been under the Imperius had been absolved of any responsibility, but it did not stop the immense guilt of their actions. Hermione knew, in those cases, of three former Ministry employees that took their lives.

Therapy. It was something virtually unknown to the Wizarding world, but it was something that Muggleborns introduced. Healers came from Canada and America to help the students at Hogwarts first, and many of those foreign, English speaking Healers stayed. Shacklebolt had been the one to promote it, and Hermione had encouraged the de-stigmatization of mental health care in Wizarding Britain.

Of course, as she was in office, Severus Snape had been dead well over a decade. What would have some mental health care done for him?

Hermione sighed, Summoned a blanket from the bed and draped it over herself in the softened leather of his armchair. She watched him breathe softly, his eyes moving in dreams and stopping from time to time. Were his dreams as black and terrible as his waking hours?

Staring at the fire, Hermione hugged herself under the cotton blanket, resting her head on the wingback. Plans, plans turned over and over in her mind. Potions and calculations, the dimensions of her memories, contingencies, it was almost too much. And what about after? Where could she take him, heal him, hide him? Where would they go in the years between?

Hermione dozed, eyes half open, letting the flickering light of the fire give her visions of sunlight and warmth. She thought about that beach at Taormina, of Rose laying in the sun with her. Hermione could almost feel the sun warm on her brown legs. Maybe she and Severus could go there. Maybe they could spend the next two decades living la dolce vita.

The sound of Severus letting out a soft snore roused her and she straightened her legs out, allowing herself a feline stretch. Severus smacked his lips and slowly opened his eyes. Hermione let the blanket pool in her lap and sat forward. He turned his head and gazed at her, his face still smooth. He was still dreaming.

"You need a contraceptive potion," he murmured.

He was awake and she sighed.

"You don't keep them in your lab?" she whispered, arching an eyebrow.

"I have been celibate for years, and my last partner had a Muggle procedure done to ensure she could not conceive..."

Charity Burbage? Hermione nodded.

Severus sat up with a groan, bending his knees up to grasp them. Slowly, he looked down to his open pants and sighed. Hermione had left him as he had been, his layers of clothing obscuring his groin. He had not been entirely exposed.

"Bath," he rasped, rubbing his hands on his knees. "I want a bath."

You need one, she wanted to say, but pushed the blanket off and stood, picking up her wand from the ashtray stand. Severus did not seem to have the strength to rise, and Hermione reached for him.

He took her hand and frowned. "I... I didn't hurt you?"

Hermione shook her head. "C'mon," she whispered.

After the exertion on the floor, he smelled worse than ever. Hermione helped him weakly walk to the bedroom and then magick off his Death Eater robes before he sat on the edge of the bed as he had the last time she had seen him. Hermione flicked her wand to encapsulate the filthy robes in a bubble charm, and then set the water to run in the tub. Showering would not be comfortable enough, she supposed.