Mended

Twelve

The storm outside brews dangerously. Waves crash into the rocks lining the shore, the sound deafening in the shack. The swash nearly reaching the front stoop, Severus wonders briefly if he should place a protective charm around the property to prevent the sea from becoming his kitchen but decides to give it awhile longer to see if the storm eases up. Behind him, his wife rages nearly as deafening as the storm outside.

It had been a week since she first came. A week of sleepless nights and constant sight of her standing in his peripheral. He smelled coconut endlessly, heard her barking laugh in the distance.

"Look at me!" He catches her shout.

"How did you get here?" Severus asks, turning towards her and interrupting whatever it was that she was about to yell about. Between the waves crashing outside, the wind howling, and his pounding head, her words had been jumbled for the last half hour she had been standing behind him as he chopped Aconite.

"What?" She asks, flabbergasted.

"It was a simple question. There's no Floo Networks available in the village, The Knight Bus does not come here, you are alone, and you cannot Appa—"

"I can Apparate!" She shouts, stomping her foot as if she were a child. "Draco taught me!"

"My deepest sympathies to Mister Malfoy on what was undoubtedly a deeply unpleasant ordeal." Severus answers dryly as he makes his way to the other side of the shack, next to where she is standing.

She watches him intently, her eyes following every move he makes as he makes his way across the tiny shack to stand before her. He had forgotten just how much taller he is than her as he towers over her unyielding form to stare down his nose at her.

"Why do you do that?" She asks, her voice cracking slightly as if the presence of him before her stole her breath away.

"I assure you; I have no idea what you are talking about." Severus says with a smirk.

"You leave these long, elaborate letters telling me how intelligent I am, try to convince Flitwick to make me Head Girl, then speak to me as if I am the stupidest person you know." Her hands flail wildly midair as she speaks. He had forgotten how entertaining, and mildly infuriating this action was to watch.

"You are conceited, self-cent-" Severus begins, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Those were things that you did, that you said, not me!"

"Why must you insist on-"

"Me? Why do you insist on anything that you do?" She shouts, interrupting him once more. "I have more than earned the right to be angry with you. I deserve answers."

"Oh, excuse me. You deserve it, how silly of me. It seems you have been spending far too much time with Mister Potter, as his arrogance has rubbed off on you."

"The last night that we were together, when you told me that you missed me too, did you know then that you were going to leave?"

"That," Severus begins with a sigh, the guilt crawling from his gut to his throat at the memory of their final night together. "Is of no importance."

"Please, Severus. Just tell me why. I need to know why you did it." Her begging, those blue eyes clouding with tears, the way her bottom lip begins to tremble, it is all too much to bear.

Without thinking, Severus backs her up against the wall, just as he had done the last time she was here. Perhaps it is muscle memory, for this had been a strategy to get her to stop talking many times in their past, or maybe it was simply a way to feel her flesh against his. She is wearing a low cut tank top tucked into a high waisted cotton skirt, the hem ending just above her knee. Her red hair is loose, the curls dancing around her body like fire as the wind howls through the small shack, the smell of coconut is nearly overpowering. The brightly colored, mix-matched paint on her toenails was now accompanied by sparkling, multi-colored glitter on her long, rounded fingernails. Faded blue scribbles litter her arms, which she tries to hide against her thigh when she catches him glancing down at it. No doubt her idea of play time with Lorna is much more hands-on than he could have imagined.