The Serpent and the Lioness

Chapter 22

Evening came quickly. Neither one had dared to approach the other. Each staking their claim in the small house, the line drawn between them marked by the hall and averted eyes.

Hermione had deserted the book in favor for watching the evening twist the colors of the open fields that reached toward some unknown horizon. Her anger had dampened but only just, a desperation taking its place as she tried to think of anything but him.

What did she have left in the world anymore? What would even await her beyond the front door? She had been securely tucked away since her wakening. She didn't even know if she could return to the life she had envisioned in her youth. How could she simply walk back into a world that had surely forgotten her by now? Did she want to be forgotten? Did she dare to hope that the world outside would welcome her with open arms?

Her thoughts of lingered on her parents and the new life they had made for themselves. So far away, could she be so selfish as to return herself to their minds? When they learned of what she'd done could they forgive her? Would they take her away? Make her relinquish her magic and come live a life she was never meant to live? Could she look into their faces of betrayal and mistrust? What laid beyond day three? What future could possibly form itself over all she had done? What did she truly want from all this?

She had dragged a man—a strong man—through the entirety of the emotional spectrum and left him on his knees. Would he survive all she had put him through? Could she be the one to finally break a man so known for his resolve and perseverance? Had her good intentions created more of a mess than she could possibly dream of handling?

She had barely been thinking beyond tomorrow all this time. On the run from her friends and taking solace in childhood enemies had left little time to really think about what lied beyond tomorrow. Now that her world had stopped spinning, she had finally found the mental strength to see beyond tomorrow.

What did she want from her life? Where could she possibly put her talents to use? More importantly, what talents did she even possess? She was smart, true, but so were many others. She could recall many things but anyone could find the information she held. She had a magical talent that rivaled the prejudice of her blood status but she was hardly an Albus Dumbledore or Grindelwald. What good could she contribute to the world?

Her inner torment was cut short when she felt the back of her shirt lift. She had been standing, glaring unconsciously through the old glass of the study window her arms crossed tightly over her chest her body unbelievably tight. Rough fingers ran into the dip of her lower back and she felt a warmth growing in her stomach as the pain she'd been aptly ignoring started to ebb away. Her face tilted just slightly watching from behind her hair the face of the man who wore nothing but penance on his brow.

She took a deep breath as the hand slowly ran around her hip and let it out as he soothed away the ache near the hem of her jeans. His fingers gentle and un-wandering as they pressed the salve into the scar near her hip.

When he pulled back and lowered her shirt back into place she gathered the courage to turn and face him. His head was still bowed and his eyes lacked the hardness of a battle-worn man. He looked sad, a little afraid but most of all, remorseful. He said nothing as he kept his eyes down, turning the lid of the jar closed.

Not trusting her voice she pressed her words between their connection caressing his mind gently.

Thank you.