I hold the universe when I hold you

9 la nebulosa

Severus nearly carried her back into the house and dropped her on the bench by the door. He was furious, but Hermione knew it was not because of her or her reactions.

The violence of battling Nagini had been so terrible when she was a teenager, but observing from the outside in her forties, it seemed far worse. Hermione recalled coming upon the gore in a back room, and then the crashing and collapsing of the house. From the outside, the Bagshot house began to crumble into the road, the sound of explosions and glass broke the Christmas night silence, and the other residents of the village began to rouse.

The moment when her teenage self had Disapparated with Harry, every remaining window in the ancient house shattered, as did some of the windows next door. What had happened to Nagini, if she had gone back to Voldemort, was unknown. Hermione had cried out at some point of the destruction, and Severus snatched her up and began to move as dark cloaked figures popped onto the road. It took a moment for Hermione to understand.

It was not Death Eaters. It was Voldemort's Ministry. Glancing back, Hermione saw that the damage was being repaired hastily, that a Muggle in a dressing robe from a nearby house was Obliviated, and other Ministry agents began to patrol the road.

Hermione, in her mind, called these Ministry agents 'Sweepers'. They were a force of Obliviators and other types who specialized in clean up. In her time, she knew them all, all the Secrecy Agents. In Voldemort's Ministry, she had no idea who was in charge or if they were part of the Death Eaters. The fact they had come so quickly, perhaps only moments sooner than they normally would have, told Hermione that someone near Voldemort had been alerted.

Severus was breathing heavily, hands gripping the newel post of the stairs, back to her. Hermione was still, staring at the flowered wallpaper, limbs limp, grinding her teeth. She was not surprised when Severus groaned, twisted to sit on the stairs again and grab his forearm.

"He's not Summoning me, not yet, but..." he grunted as Hermione's eyes turned to him.

"He will," she sighed and flexed her fingers.

She had only just caught sight of teenage herself, so thin, so wary, so young. That younger self had barely looked more than a child. It was not the same as looking at old photographs. And Harry, it was disorientating to see him. Time had been kind to her friend, but still, he had looked so wan, so exhausted. It was a wonder that neither one of them had not collapsed at the strain of it all.

Severus grunted and curled around his forearm and immediately Hermione moved to stand before him, her hand going to touch the crown of his dark hair. He pulled away, glancing up at Hermione, his face in a grimace. Hermione sighed, running her thumb along the deep set line between his dark brows.

"You should go. Prepare. The Locket..." she whispered.

His face smoothed and he swallowed thickly, nodding.

She did not want him to go. She wanted to have him stay safe in the house, at least for some sort of armistice during Christmas. Of course, Voldemort did not care for civil mercies like keeping Christmas or Yule. Tom Riddle was no gentleman, and evil did not sleep.

Leaning down, Hermione pressed a kiss into Severus' pale forehead, already dewy with sweat. Severus only blinked up at her, but then, with a shaky sigh, he rested his face in her chest.

They would survive this, and Hermione considered for the millionth time, telling him just how she knew it.

Running his fingers along her jaw after rising, he moved to the door, cloak flapping. He paused to glance back, opened his mouth to say something, but did not. Hermione nodded to him, and watched his raven hair and midnight cloak flutter out the door and across the garden.