The Funeral Portrait by the French Press, Chapter 12.
It is cold in the hallway, but she doesn't mind.
Within the patient room she is lingering outside of, there are
two young Wizards she was never particularly familiar with when
they were schoolmates, and whom her opinion of has lowered in
recent times. She has other patients to visit,
but she is reluctant to get on with her tasks while Severus is
away that morning, leaving Khamenei without any support
should things take a sour turn. So she stands and waits,
occasionally glances inside and narrows her eyes, fighting back
the feeling of discomfort in her stomach at them using their
chairs to visit with her. Padma still hasn't been able to
forgive them for their treatment of Severus when he was the only
one willing to do whatever it took to bring Hermione back.
She knows it is not professional and that it was foolish for her
to become so attached to her patient and the dark, stoic man
who worked so hard to free her, but she doesn't care.
They are her friends first and foremost.
After 20 minutes, the two younger Wizards get up from
their chairs to leave, and she observes them leaning over to
awkwardly embrace the witch. Sitting up in the bed, she lifts
her clipboard and feigns businesses.
The door opens and both Harry and Ron step out of the room.
Hello, Padma. Harry greets, his friendly tone
masking his discomfort. Meanwhile, beside him, Ron
refuses to meet her eye. Harry, Ron, Padma replies
courteously. The formal tone of her voice is
unmistakable. Ron looks up and nods before he
trudges her head down the hall towards the lifts, leaving Harry
behind to stand awkwardly before her.
He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he gazes after his
friend who has already disappeared around the corner.
Sorry. Harry tells her.
He's still a bit put out after being thrown out the other week.
He'll come around. Padma can't help the derisive
snort that escapes her. Maybe she has been spending too
much time around Severus. Frankly, Harry, I could not care
less what he does or not. She responds coolly.
You are both disrupting a medical procedure and we're
harassing one of the medical staff charged with aiding a
patient's recovery. She catches a flash of frown
before Harry controls his features and replies reasonably
with yeah, I suppose you're right.
It's just, it's the Snape thing. One of her eyebrows lifts and
she says nothing, letting his words hang in the hope that he
will see what a ridiculous statement it was.
Harry's contrite expression moments later let's her know
that he has. I have patience to see,
including Hermione. She informs him, breaking the
awkward silence. I'll see you around Harry.
See you, Padma. She doesn't wait to watch him
leave and instead goes into the room he has just vacated.
Hermione is sitting up and staring at her, and Padma can
tell that she is practically bursting to ask what went on
outside. Instead of checking her vitals
and doing the annoying paperwork she has to do, she drops into
the chair beside her bed and sags into it tiredly.
It's already been such a long week, you're really going to
make me ask? Hermione questions, a smirk
curving her lips. Padma chuckles and shakes her
head. Just Harry and Ron being mad at
me for throwing them out. Ron certainly knows how to hold
a grudge. Hermione smiles and shakes her
head. He's quite stubborn, yes.
She stares at the woman in the bed, a million questions she has
been too scared to ask floating around her head.
How can you be so forgiving when they've barely been to see you?
Honestly, I've been friends with them both for such a long time.
Has it been perfect? Not by a long shot, but then I
haven't been a perfect friend to them either.
Hermione answers. I'm kind of relieved they didn't
stop their lives just to watch me slowly atrophy in this bed
for months. Severus.
Padma begins, but the other witch interrupts her.
Severus is different, Hermione says firmly.
I'm not thrilled he threw away so much of his time and energy
on me when there is no guarantee anything would bring me back.
But I'm also grateful to him because now I am here and I get
a chance that I never thought I'd have.
When she is finished explaining, Hermione's features are lit up
at the mere mention of the former spy.
That is love, Padma thinks to herself, warmth spreading
through her extremities. They have faced so much hardship
to get to this point, and she is determined to ensure that these
two incredibly self sacrificing people get to have even the
smallest sliver of happiness. Since Hermione's returned to the
world a week later, she has gotten to know and understand
the witch better. Padma muses that they may have
been great friends in their youth if only Hermione hadn't
been entangled in the Golden Trio web.
If only she hadn't been caught up in being Parvati's twin.
If only they'd been sorted into the same house at school.
She shakes her head and draws herself back to the present.
Thinking about the what ifs wasn't productive.
So when is Severus visiting today?
Padma asks. That is mentioned.
A light fills Hermione's dark amber eyes.
Later, after my nap. She answers All of the visitors
and the talking are surprisingly taxing.
In my head I feel like I could run a marathon, but my weak body
doesn't seem to agree. Padma chuckles and places a hand
on hers, patting it in comfort. Be patient, she tells her, it
will get easier. They sit in silence for a while
until Padma finally gives in to reality and stands so that she
can get on with her charting for the day, leaving Hermione to
rest. A month.
One month since she escaped the confines of her mind. 1 long
month of frustratingly slow recovery.
She is grateful, so grateful to everyone who has worked so hard
to aid her in her recovery. Padma is the female friend she
always wished she'd had at Hogwarts.
Jinny and Luna had both been great.
But they'd always been better friends with one another than
with her, leaving her to fend for herself.
Her roommates at Hogwarts had irritated her with their talk of
vapid nonsense and an extreme interest in divination, which
bordered on obsessive. She'd regret it more were it not
for the fact that everything in her life has LED her to Severus
Earth, to Hermione. She blinks as she looks up at
Padma, waving her hand in front of her face.
Sorry, I was lost in thought. I can tell.
The healer replies, chuckling. I was just popping by to tell
you some good news. Hermione's heart constricts in
her chest. News.
Padma nods. You're set for an early release.
She says. You'll be allowed to even 2
days, provided you return as an outpatient for fortnightly check
UPS. The delight that thrombs through
her leaves Hermione's stunt. Really, really, really.
She doesn't think. She simply launches herself off
the bed at the other witch, embracing her with a fierceness
she'd never realised she had in her.
Thank you. She whispers, and her throat
constricts as a wave of emotion comes over her.
Tears of relief tracked down her cheeks and she sniffs, trembling
as Padma returns her embrace. You're welcome.
They stand there embracing for what seems like hours, but it is
likely only minutes until a familiar sounding calf emanating
from the doorway interrupts them.
Am I interrupting several straws, but there is a hint of a
smile that belies his words. Lifting the corners of his
mouth. Hermione let's go of Padma and
walks across the room to him. Mindless of others seeing, she
launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his
neck so she might cling to him. He catches her with ease and
soon her body is tucked against his and she Burrows her nose
against the front of a shirt to breathe in his comforting scent.
I get to leave in 2 days. She murmurs against his front.
His arms tighten around her further in response.
That's good news. He rumbles, his deep voice
vibrating against her. She loves the low, sonorous
Chamber of his voice like auditory caramel.
I'll leave you all to catch up. Padma says, and Hermione
releases Severus so she can turn around to bid her farewell.
Padma waves and slips out of the room, shutting the door behind
her. Alone with Severus, Hermione
leads him over to the bed and they sit on it, side by side.
She sucks in her breath, turning her face up to look at him, only
to find his brows drawn together in thought.
Sickle for your thought. She says, and he looks down at
her and smirks. Your value in my thoughts is far
too high. He tells her gently.
Hermione reaches up to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over his
sharp cheekbone before letting her hand drop.
Never. He pauses for a moment, exhaling
a long breath before saying. We haven't discussed where you
will go once you're finally free from here.
No, she agrees, we haven't. What would you like to do?
Where would you like to go? His tone becomes a little
hesitant, as if he has something he wishes to express, but he is
unwilling to do so. She stares at him, willing his
expression to give away, well, anything, but he remains silent,
patiently waiting for her to make a choice.
She loves him all the more for it.
He always gives her a choice, championing her autonomy every
step of the way through her recovery.
Now it is her turn to be brave and ask for something she wants
with every fibre of her being, and her stomach feels heavy with
nerves at the prospect of it. Hermione swallows despite her
constricting throat, wetting her dry lips before saying barely
above a whisper. I don't mind where I go so long
as I can be with you. She shouldn't have been
surprised, but after a beat, his hands were cupping her face, his
lips pressing against hers firmly in a kiss that stole her
breath. She returns it in earnest,
fingers gripping the front of his dark woolen jumper.
A few breathless moments later they part and she sucks in air,
trying to get oxygen into her excited, frazzled brain.
The warmth radiating off him surrounds her like a blanket of
safety, and the spark in his black gaze lets her know she has
said her the right thing. Come live with me.
He offers. She smiles.
I'd love nothing more. Her heart feels like it might
beat out of her chest, but she ignores it in favour of
savouring this moment with him, once so pure, she thinks nothing
will ever be able to equal it. She loves him so much.
Sometimes she worries it will break her.
So far all of her fears have been for naughty.
The cold has well and truly set in with the advent of winter.
Severus shoves his hands into his pockets for warmth, flexing
his fingers after realising his hand was automatically reaching
for the non existent pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket.
He picks up his pace on the approach to scent mungoes.
He quit smoking a few weeks ago after they'd successfully
released Hermione from the curse.
He still isn't used to not reaching out for one on his
trips to and from the hospital, but he knows in time he will
adjust. It's not the first time he's
quit. His body aches a little as he
walks. While Hermione was in recovery,
he needed a distraction to fill the hours he spent at home
alone, so he threw himself into manual labour as his legs
protest with each step, he's reminded of the many hours he
invested into overhauling the yard behind the house, eager to
complete his task before her release.
Upon entry, the spell's warming in the waiting room cut through
the chill and he removes his hands from his coats, making his
way towards the lift. When the lift pings and the
doors slide open, his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline in
surprise when he sees Padma and Hermione standing side by side,
a bank slung over his witch's shoulder, presumably containing
her belongings. Hello.
He greets lamely. Padma trickles and steps out of
the lift first, with Hermione in tow.
We were planning to have her all checked out and ready to leave
by the time you arrived, but you're always bloody early.
She snarks. He bristles at the comment but
chooses not to respond, turning his attention to Hermione.
How are you feeling? She grins wide, excited.
Hermione admits, relieved, eager to eat something that isn't
hospital food and see walls that aren't painted a disturbing
shade of off white. I think we can arrange all of
that very easily. He croons, stepping towards her
and holding out his hand. Let me carry that bag and you go
and get discharged from your inpatient status.
She nods and does as she's told, standing off to the side.
He watches her and feels anxiety begin to seep into the cracks in
his heart formed by wounds of the past.
He's suddenly struck with the thought that now she is whole
and well again, Hermione might no longer need him, and that he
will be cast aside. No, he reminds himself, reeling
in the errant emotion before it takes any further hold.
Hermione isn't like that. Hermione loves you.
Hermione has chosen you. He repeats this mantra in his
head while he waits until she and Padma walk towards him, both
women looking chipper. He gazes at his friend and nods
to her, hoping she will comprehend what he currently
isn't capable of expressing with words.
How grateful he is to her for not giving up on Hermione
either. She smiles and nods back and he
knows she has understood. Let's go home.
Hermione announces home. He likes the way that sounds
leaving her lips and he wonders if the house will truly feel
like a home now that she is returning there with him.
As you wish. Get out of here you 2.
Padma says, ushering them out now.
I'll see you soon, Friday. Severus reminds her, his tone
broken. No argument.
You'll come to dinner Friday? The young heeler smiles.
I'll be there at 7. Hermione slips her hand into one
of his, which hangs loosely at his side.
He grips it tightly and they walk through the doors together.
She shivers as the cold hits them and he draws her close,
tucking her against his side for added warmth as he leads her
towards the park he apparates to and from.
He knows they will return again yet, as her outpatient treatment
dictates, but they will come and go together, he hopes.
Ready. He asks when they are hidden
from the view by trees. Very.
His arms encircle her as he apparates them in tandem, the
familiar pressure surrounding them before they reappear in the
front entryway of the home they would now share.
When he releases her, she steps back, her head whipping around
as she takes all of it in. The house is clean, if a little
bear of personal effects. He never had a reason to
decorate it before now, and his natural inclination is to allow
Hermione to do with it as she pleases.
This is her home now too, after all.
It isn't much. He hurries to defend, but she
spins around and silences him with her finger pressed to his
lips. Hush.
She tells him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.
I love it already. He gives her a tour of the
downstairs, trepidation over their sleeping arrangements
suddenly hitting him in the gut. He curses himself for not
considering it before now. I, I did not ask where you would
like to sleep, He admits, heat crawling up his neck to infuse
his cheeks. Oh.
She says softly. I thought we'd be sharing a bed.
I realise that it is probably very presumptuous of me.
She trails off, now flushed in an entirely adorable shade of
pink as well. He takes pity on her, drawing
her chin up to look him in the eye with two fingers.
I have no issues sharing your bed, Hermione.
He tells her, a Husky quality entering his voice unbidden.
There has been no talk of intimacy between them, not since
the unfortunate experience in her mind.
He assumed it might happen one day, as they'd learned to be
completely comfortable around one another again, but is in no
rush. His only thoughts have been of
her recovery. Her eyes, however, are dark with
pupils blown wide from his murmured comment.
Good. Is all she has to say after
swallowing quickly. Before I show you upstairs,
would you care to come outside with me?
He asks her, gesturing towards the kitchen.
She swallows and nods, and he sets down her bag before leading
the way. As he pushes open the back door,
he ushers her outside into the garden and is gratified to see a
twinkle of delight enter her gaze.
There is a tinge of warmth as the charm he has constructed for
the garden washes over them. Her eyes dart over the vegetable
patch, the greenhouse, and all of the planted garden beds where
the soil has been turned ready to be planted at the end of
winter in anticipation for spring.
What is this? She asks.
It is for you. He says quietly.
It was a graveyard of weeds, but I wanted you to have somewhere
to go outside of the house. I never wanted you to feel
trapped again, Hermione. Her bottom lip trembles and he
knows she is about to cry. Severus.
She says, turning towards him so she can reach up to cup his
cheek. Yes, I love you, she tells him,
not breaking eye contact even for a second.
I know you already know this, but I want you to know that I
mean it. I love you, thank you for
everything. He draws her into his arms, the
cold air surrounding them, their warm breath visible.
Just so that you will not be left wondering.
I hope you know I love you also. He murmurs.
I will undoubtedly never say it enough, but I will always mean
it. Even so, no more words are
exchanged, and they stand in the cold for a few more minutes,
drawing strength from one another.
It isn't long before they return to the relative warmth of the
inside. A fire is lit in the sitting
room where they sit beside one another on the sofa, and
Hermione rests her head against his shoulder, draping her legs
over his lap as he reads to her. This has been the funeral
portrait by the French press, narrated by me, Briar and Tones.
Thank you so much for listening to this story.
I hope to bring you more serve my near future.
It's one of my absolute favorite pairings.
I love their dynamic and I'm so glad to be able to share this
with you. Please don't forget to head over
to the original author's work on AO3 and give it a big fat wet
kudos. Take care.