Mist and Vapors

Pomfrey walked in on them right in the middle of a kiss. "Oh, don't mind me," she said with a hint of a smirk when Hannah and Severus pulled apart as she entered. "Believe me, there isn't much I haven't seen. - So how are you? Are the pain potions doing their job?"

"For the most part," he said.

"Any more nausea?"

"No. Not since I took the potions."

"Good, good. - Well, let me see..." She stepped around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers. "Now, let me know when this gets too bad..." She picked up his lower leg and began to gently push his knee towards his torso, forcing the leg to bend. She didn't get too far before Severus drew in a hissing breath. "Good." She nodded with satisfaction. "More mobility than I expected at this point. All the bones, tendons, and muscles seem to have bonded perfectly. You should be pleased." She carefully set the leg back down. "Do you think you can sit up a little?" Hannah could see him flinch as Pomfrey raised the head of the bed a few inches. "Hip still giving you a bit of a twinge, is it?" Pomfrey said. "Well, that's to be expected, I'm afraid."

She tucked the blanket back in around him, then straightened up, a satisfied look on her face. "All right, then. I'll get your next round of potions ready, and some soap and water so you can freshen up." When she reached the door, she stopped. "Oh, and this house-elf - Gwinny, is it? Looks after your quarters, does she? - asked to take care of you. She'll bring your breakfast - should be lunch, really! - any moment now. Just thought I'd warn you."

She had barely closed the door behind her when there was a 'pop,' and the little house-elf, carrying a tray covered with assorted bowls and dishes, appeared in the middle of the room. Her smile stretched from bat-like ear to bat-like ear. "Master and Mistress be back!" She beamed at them. "Gwinny be so pleased!"

Balancing the tray on one hand, she snapped her fingers. A bed-tray popped into existence in front of Severus. "Madam Pomfrey say that you might be feeling peckish, so I bring you some nice food. Nice food for Mistress Hannah, at least - Madam Matron say only bland stuffs for Master Snape. On account of a fragile stomach. Poor, poor Master Snape." Shaking her head sadly, she set a cup of consommé and a bowl of thin rice gruel down in front of him.

Another snap of her fingers, and a small table from the other end of the room scooted into place next to Hannah; Gwinny carefully set the rest of the food down on it. There was a pot of coffee, milk and sugar, a bowl of fresh fruit cut into sections, two golden-brown croissants, butter and jam, an egg ("soft-boiled", Gwinny informed Hannah) in a small china egg cup, a slice of asparagus quiche, and a glass of orange juice.

Severus looked down his nose at the meager offerings in front of him, then cast a stern look at Gwinny. "Do take this away. I will be sharing Miss Hannah's breakfast."

Hannah was looking at him dubiously. She remembered only too well how ill he had been during the night.

"It's my stomach," he reminded her firmly. "And Pomfrey's potions are working quite well." With a distasteful expression, he let some of the glutinous grey gruel drop off the spoon into the bowl. "I am not eating this appalling glop."

Gwinny looked from one to the other, obviously torn between Pomfrey's wishes and the fact that she didn't technically consider gruel food. "Madam Pomfrey will not be happy with Gwinny. Not at all happy," she muttered under her breath.

"I, on the other hand, will be quite pleased. Now, thank you, that will be all."

"Yes, sir."

Hannah grinned when the little elf disappeared with an "it's out of my hands" expression, taking along Severus' tray.

"You're not getting my quiche," Hannah said firmly as she saw Severus eyeing her food. "Much too heavy for your 'fragile stomach.' I might be persuaded to share the fruit and a croissant. If you really think you're up to it."

"I am. And I want the egg."

Grinning, she got up from her chair and sat down on the edge of his bed, expertly cracking the egg and peeling off the top part of the shell.

"You can't really eat this with one hand." It would have been hard to miss the way he still flinched every time he tried to use his right hand. She sprinkled a bit of salt on top of the egg and scooped out a spoonful. "Here." She held the spoon out to him.

He looked at her with drawn eyebrows. "You don't have to..."

Leaning forward, she gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "Just hush and eat," she said with a smile.

When he had finished the egg, she handed him one of the croissants while she started tackling the quiche.

"I think after breakfast I'd better go and take myself off for a bit - I desperately need a shower," she said. She knew he wouldn't appreciate having an audience while Pomfrey helped him with his toilette, so this seemed as good a time as any. "And I should Firecall your mother and let her know about what happened before she reads about it in the paper."

He frowned. "Gwinny!" At his call, the elf rematerialized. "Can you get me a copy of this morning's Daily Prophet?" he asked her.

"Yes, Master Snape." She came back barely a minute later, the rolled up paper in her hands.

"Thank you," Hannah said as she took the paper from her. "And I meant to thank you for our breakfast, as well - it's perfect." As the elf Disapparated with a pleased grin, Hannah cautiously unrolled the paper and opened it to the front page, holding it so Severus could see.

Deadly Skirmish Results in Capture of Wanted Death Eater.

Oh no. It was there already. Not the banner headline, but quite visible in a side column of the front page. She quickly scanned the paper and gave a sigh of relief. The actual article was quite short.

Peter Pettigrew, 40, the Death Eater responsible for the murder of Hogwarts student Cedric Diggory nearly four years ago, has been apprehended in the vicinity of the school by a team of Aurors. It is confirmed that the fighting resulted in at least one fatality. News reached the Daily Prophet only minutes before going to press, and further details are not at this time known. More information as it becomes available.

"I suppose the Ministry needs more time to decide exactly what sort of spin they want to put on the story," he said dourly.

"But at least we'll have time to tell your mother and aunt before they find out elsewhere," Hannah said. "Look on the bright side." She put the paper down and lightly touched Severus' face, now rough with a day's worth of stubble. "I really do think it will work out all right this time."

"Optimist," he muttered as he sipped the orange juice.

She just smiled as she put down the bowl of fruit next to him on the bedside table. "Well, I'd better go - you must be tired of looking at the disheveled mess that I am."

He looked up with a smirk. "Your hair does look...interesting."

She smirked back - it wasn't as if he looked his best at the moment: bed hair (even stringier than usual), stubble, dark circles under his eyes. The smile slowly faded - he was so pale, so tired - and then suddenly she was blinking back tears. "You just take care of yourself while I'm gone, all right?"

"Really, I can get along without you for half an hour," he said with a touch of irritation.

She nodded with a crooked smile as she got up. "Of course you can. I'm just..." She stopped, suddenly aware of the thin, fraying ribbon holding her emotions together at the moment, all those things bubbling away under the surface because there hadn't been time, a morass of feelings and impressions, of pain and fear, of the cold touch of a dementor's hands and Pettigrew's deranged cackle.

The bright mood had evaporated in a second; instead there was the panicky feeling that if she let him out of her sight for even a moment, something else would happen, something bad. She knew that she was irrational, that he was better, that he was safe now, but Lord, it had hurt, watching Pettigrew cause him so much pain in such a deliberate, cold-blooded way. And then there had been the terrible, relentless suffering of the night, hour after hour, and she didn't want to leave him, not yet, and she wanted him to not want her to leave. And his words just now had stupidly hurt her, and she knew she was being ridiculous and unreasonable and just plain too tired - it had been her idea to take herself off, after all! - and that normally she would have laughed. And instead, she felt like crying, and she knew that once she started, she wouldn't stop for quite a while, and she wanted him to hold her when that happened, and there just wasn't time. Pomfrey would be back any moment.

There was a confused, concerned expression on Severus face as he caught her hand when she got up. He looked at her, small worried lines around his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Hannah took a couple of quick, shallow breaths and swallowed hard. Be reasonable, girl. He doesn't need this right now. If you're knackered, think about how he must feel.

"Not quite," she said honestly. "It's just that sometime in the future, I'll need to borrow your shoulder and have myself a good cry." She smiled at him. "But it's not urgent. Nothing that can't wait until later. Really. I'll be fine."

He nodded, his eyes searching her face. "You are sure?"

"I am."

.-.-.-.

When she returned three quarters of an hour later, she had regained her composure. It was amazing what a difference in outlook a hot shower and a set of clean, comfortable clothes could make - she finally felt semi-human again. And the conversation with Severus' mother had gone better than expected - even if Hannah still caught a hint of something stand-offish and reserved every time she talked to her. In this case though, concern for her son seemed to have outweighed any of the awkwardness of talking to her future Squib daughter-in-law.

When she arrived back in Severus' room, she found the breakfast dishes cleared away and him lying in bed, wearing a fresh hospital gown and putting away his shaving kit.

"There - I feel better," she said with a grin as he looked up. "Do I look better?"

"You look...quite well." She liked the tone of his voice and the expression in his eyes as he looked her up and down. He loves me, she though with a flutter of joy. He told me so. It had been wonderful to hear him say it.

She looked back over her shoulder - she had passed the matron, busy with another patient, on the way in, but no one else had been outside the door. "I thought Tonks would still be out there. Did Pomfrey say what happened to her?"

"Apparently, she got a message a while ago saying she could leave. They didn't send a replacement. I assume that's good news."

Hannah smiled as she sat down. "It should be...I hope that means you are officially off the suspect list."

"Maybe." He cleared his throat. "Did you talk to my mother?"

She nodded. "She was quite upset, of course. I'm glad I was able to tell her that you're out of danger and on the mend now. They wanted to visit today, but I talked them out of it. I thought Anwyn might be a bit much at the moment."

He grimaced. "I appreciate it."

"I'm supposed to meet them tomorrow afternoon in Diagon Alley. I thought we could kill two birds with one stone that way." She bent forward and kissed him. "I hate to leave you, but I still don't have a dress for the wedding. After we go shopping, they'll come back with me for a short visit - I hope that's all right?"

"You invited them to go shopping with you?" He had a disbelieving look on his face.

"Well, yes. I wasn't much looking forward to going on my own. And it'll give me a chance to get to know your mother a little better." She dropped her eyes to her hands before looking up at him again. "Do you think she likes me?" she asked hesitantly.

"She told me you were a perfectly nice young woman."

"Hm." Somehow, Hannah was not convinced. "I suppose we'll see. At least Anwyn will be there, too." She felt much more comfortable with Severus's outspoken but kindhearted aunt.

"You may come to regret the invitation. Anwyn has an opinion on everything, and absolutely no hesitation in making that opinion crystal clear to anyone within hearing range."

Hannah grinned. "Well, yes, she might be a little short on tact on occasion, but she..."

"..but she's not the only one in the family with that shortcoming?" Severus finished the sentence with a smirk.

"That's not what I..." Hannah was saved from having to answer when at that moment there was a knock. A moment later, the head of Minerva McGonagall poked through the door. "Poppy said it would be all right if we stopped in for a minute?" she asked. "If you feel up to it, that is?"

"Who is 'we'?" Severus asked with raised eyebrows. Two more heads - those of Flitwick and Lupin - peered around the corner with hopeful smiles.

Severus sighed. "Very well, then. Come in."

While Minerva conjured up some chairs and Remus asked Severus how he was faring, Flitwick came over and pulled Hannah into a firm hug. "How are you, sweetheart?" he whispered in her ear.

"I'm fine," she whispered, hugging him back fiercely.

He squeezed her tightly, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his warm, papery old cheek and soft whiskers against her face.

"How was his night?"

"Hard." She swallowed with difficulty. "But he's better now."

"Pomfrey says he'll be right as rain," he whispered reassuringly.

She nodded with teary eyes. "I know. I just don't want to see him in that much pain ever again."

She let him hold her for a moment longer before straightening back up at the sound of Severus' voice.

"...haven't had a chance to thank you." There was a strained tone to his words as he looked at his colleagues. "Without your help..." He paused. "I am - we are - in your debt..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Minerva said robustly. "You've done so much for us over the years that it would be quite embarrassing for us to try and sort out who owes whom what at this point. I'm just glad I could be of help."

Severus flashed her a quick, genuine smile. "You were quite splendid. When you came out from under the sofa with that rat in your mouth..."

A touch of a color crept into her cheeks, and there was a pleased expression on her face. "Well, yes," she said with a bit of preen in her voice. "I wasn't too bad for an old woman, was I?"

"Old woman?" Flitwick snorted. "What does that make me? Methuselah?"

"I am just sorry about your father, dear," McGonagall said, patting Hannah's hand. "I wish you didn't have to see that."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence when she didn't answer.

"What happened before that, if I may ask?" Hannah finally said with an effort. "I could hear you struggling under the sofa..."

"There were a lot of loose threads hanging down," McGonnagal said primly. "I'm afraid I got tangled."

Remus looked at her and grinned. "You weren't playing with string, were you, Minerva?"

"I was not!" She turned on him with a pursed-up mouth. "It was a very old sofa. It could have happened to anyone."

With raised eyebrows and matching grins, Remus and Flitwick exchanged glances.

Minerva glared at them. "For that matter, what took you so long to show up, hm?" She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I was expecting you much earlier after I sent Tonks off to get you."

Flitwick shrugged apologetically. "We had to get to the Apparition point first. A 134-year-old wizard with very short legs, and a werewolf two days out of Transformation. I'm afraid neither one of us was going to set any sprint records."

There was so much to talk about. None of those assembled had heard the whole story up to now, and there were a lot of questions and explanations, a lot of back and forth and going down rabbit trails, with Hannah and Severus filling in their parts of the story line and asking the other three about theirs. Once Minerva had finished the tail end of the story - her two hours at Auror Headquarters, going over things she had already gone over (in detail) several time previously - the conversation turned into a round verbal trouncing of the Ministry in general and most of the Auror squad in particular.

It was at that point in the discussion that Hannah noticed that Severus was starting to look too pale and too pinched again, and she graciously thanked everyone for coming, and that it would be lovely to have another visit sometime in the near future.

After she had seen them out, she sat down on the side of his bed again. "Let me do your shoulder again before you lie down for a nap." She slipped the gown down his arm and got out the potion. "They are dears, aren't they?" she said softly. "Are you sorry you'll leave your friends behind when we move?"

She saw different emotions chasing each other across his face. "Not sorry," he finally said. "But I will be glad...." He paused. "I am glad that I will be leaving with some regret now." He looked up at her. "I don't know if I can explain it."

She leaned over and stroked his hair away from his face. "I think I understand." With the exception of Albus Dumbledore, he had thought himself without friends, his presence tolerated only as long as he produced results for the Order and the school. He had expected mainly indifference, or, worse, a chorus of "Good Riddance" when the news of his departure was announced; had expected his absence to leave barely a ripple in anyone else's life. There would be a certain...gladness, she was sure, in finding out that that wasn't the case, that there would be people who would miss him, that he would now be leaving behind some good memories along with all the cold and hurtful ones.

She took his wrist between her hands - it looked much better than it had earlier. "When are you going to tell Dumbledore and your family we are leaving?" she asked as she rubbed more ointment into his skin.

"Soon. Dumbledore will have to have time to find an adequate replacement."

"Who's going to take over as Head of House for Slytherin? Sinistra?"

He nodded. "She's the only Slytherin left on staff - unless by some fluke of fate Dumbledore should hire a Slytherin with more seniority for the Potions master position. She'll do her best for our House."

"I doubt you'll be that easy to replace - "

"Truth be told, I lost a lot of them when my allegiance to Dumbledore became known," he interrupted with a bitter smile. "Many of the old pure-blood families had bound themselves to the Dark Lord's - Voldemort's - cause. They saw the fact that I aided in his defeat as utmost treachery." He shook his head. "Dumbledore thought he was doing me a favor in proclaiming my innocence, at least here at Hogwarts, after the end of the war, but it just assured that I would lose the trust of quite a few of my Slytherins. At least Sinistra will have none of that baggage."

Hannah leaned forward and kissed him, putting her heart into the kiss, wishing again that there was some way she could make things different. Damned in his own House for helping the light side; condemned as a Death Eater by about everyone else in the wizarding world, thanks to her father's manipulations. Merlin, he did not deserve this.

He drew back and took the potion jar from her.

"Here, let me..." Carefully, he smoothed some of the potion over the bruise on her cheek and lip. Hannah closed her eyes and held still, loving the feeling of his fingertips stroking across her face, of the light tingle as the potion was absorbed into the skin. The bruise was fading already - she had high hopes of it being gone completely by their wedding day.

When he put away the Potions jar, she reached for his good hand, watching as his long, pale fingers curled around hers. "Have I ever told you that I love your hands?" she said. "You have such beautiful hands."

He snorted.

"Well, you do," she said firmly. She traced his thin, elegant fingers and the lines on his palm, then slowly ran her hand over his wrist and forearm - and looked up in surprise when he flinched. Now what?

There was an unreadable expression on his face, dark eyes half-hidden behind lowered eyelids.

"Severus? What is it?"

"Does it bother you?" he asked shortly.

"Does what bother me?"

He nodded to where her fingers were resting across what remained of the Dark Mark, usually hidden beneath long sleeves, now visible in faint and faded outlines against his white skin.

She shook her head. "No. It doesn't." Slowly, she rubbed a finger over the Mark, feeling his muscles tighten as if fighting the urge to pull away. "I wish you didn't have to live with it any more - because you hate it - but it doesn't bother me."

"When I first met you..." He paused. "We were sitting on this bluff, and I remember thinking that the smile on your face was nothing but a mirage, that all I would have to do was to show you this and the smile would turn to hatred. Or worse, fear."

"It might have, back then," she said quietly. "I didn't know you very well. But I do hope I would have given you the benefit of the doubt, that I would have listened to your story."

"Would you?" His voice was rough.

"I think I would have." She smiled. "I was already half in love with you."

He snorted again. "Heaven knows why."

"Because you are you." She leaned over, touching the tip of her nose to his. "Because you are salt and pepper and vinegar, and I haven't regretted a moment I ever spent with you." She rubbed her nose against his, nuzzling him gently. "Any more questions?"

He shook his head. "Vinegar?" He gave her a mocking look. "Don't most women prefer sweet?"

She shook her head in a gesture of mild impatience. "Maybe. But I prefer you."

.-.-.-.

After dinner, Pomfrey decided it was time to get Severus on his feet for the first time - a slow, painful process, but he managed to walk a few steps, leaning heavily on Pomfrey and Hannah. "It'll get better quickly now," the matron said reassuringly. "You'll be surprised." She stayed to settle Severus for the night. "I don't suppose you'll be going back to your quarters, will you?" she asked Hannah.

"I'm going to stay with him. - If you don't mind?" She looked at Severus.

He shook his head - no, he didn't mind. He was getting much too used to having her around. It was a good thing the wedding was only three days off.

The matron grinned at him. "Well, since tonight there is no danger of her accidentally jostling you while you are trying to grow some bones..." She pulled out her wand - and Severus' bed grew wider, wide enough to comfortably accommodate another person. "Just remember that I could come in and check on you at any time," she said with a wink. "Well, good night, you two."

As she left, Hannah looked self-consciously at Severus. "Really, I don't mind sleeping in the chair again, if you'd rather...?"

In response, he pulled back the cover and held out his arm. "Come here."

She stripped off her shoes and socks and slipped into bed next to him. He closed his eyes as she settled in by his side - the warm weight of her body as she relaxed against him was peaceful, enjoyable. It could easily have been too enjoyable - he was in a way glad that some of the pain potions Pomfrey had given him affected other...sensory receptors as well. It would have been a shame to get this close to his wedding night and then spoil it, he thought with a wry smile.

"So," he said as she wriggled her face against his shoulder with a contented sigh, "I meant to ask if I understood right, earlier..."

"What?" she asked sleepily.

"You Apparated back to Hogwarts? With Tonks?"

An involuntary shiver ran through her body. "She is an Auror," she mounted a feeble defense of the young witch.

He smirked. As a Potions student, Nymphadora Tonks had been the bane of his existence - clever and capable enough to pass the class at the NEWT level, but exhibiting a Longbottomesque level of clumsiness that had ensured an intermittent but steady queue of Potions disasters. If he had a Galleon for every time he had had to deal with the consequences of her accidentally dropping a vial into a cauldron... "She's Tonks," he said. For Hannah to Apparate with her... "I am beginning to think you must be rather fond of me," he said, the smirk widening.

Hannah scooted her head back a little and looked up at him with eyebrows drawn together in a mock frown. "I did think that fact was rather firmly established by now."

He smiled as he kissed her on the forehead. It was indeed.

"So..." he said quietly, "about your father?" All day long, she had rolled up like a hedgehog every time the topic had come up. And all day, there had been something tightly-wound about her, like she was barely holding herself together. If she needed to borrow his shoulder for a good cry, now was as good a time as any.

As soon as the words were out, he could feel her stiffen in his arms. She lay still for a moment, her eyes closed.

"Just telling you I don't want to talk about it isn't going to work, is it?" she said wearily.

He shook his head. Not this time.

"Does it make me a terrible person? That I am glad that he died?" she finally asked, her voice brittle and thin.

"Why should it?"

"All I could think at the time was that I was glad it was him and not you. I told you I would be sorry if he died...but I'm not...maybe some day, but not now...I can't at the moment remember anything... good - and I should, shouldn't I? I mean, he did drive the dementor off... He is - was - my father. But I am glad he died," she said defiantly. "He would have..." She stopped.

"He would have what?" he asked carefully. She didn't answer. He waited, not wanting to push her too fast. For a while, he just stroked her face, her shoulders, her back, gently kissing her until he felt her begin to relax against him again.

"They were going to take all my memories of the wizarding world." He almost didn't hear her, she was speaking so quietly. "That seemed the worst part of what they intended for me, you see - that after everything that's happened, I wouldn't remember that you even existed." A tear spilled across her face she looked up at him. "They would have just erased you..."

He pulled her against him, horrified. To remove all those memories would have caused irreparable damage, leaving her helpless, at the developmental level of a child.

"And what he - they - did to you...I couldn't...what Pettigrew did to you..." Her shoulders were shaking now.

"Shh," he murmured against her hair, running his hand over her back. "It's over."

"But you were in so much pain...I wish I could have helped you, and I couldn't...and then the dementor came, and Lord, Severus, when it touched me..." She was quietly weeping, pressing her face against his neck, holding on to him tightly. "And then last night..."

"I know," he murmured. He did know. What he didn't know was what else to do to help her. There had to be something...

Helplessly, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, closing his eyes. And suddenly - maybe because of how physically close he was to her, maybe because he now knew her so well - he could feel her, sense her, like some faint echo of Legilimency. He could feel the tight knot he had sensed in her all day slowly loosening, and knew that he was giving her exactly what she needed; nothing else was required of him. And that in spite of the crying, she was happy. How that was possible, he did not know, but the feeling was unmistakable.

Slowly, he let himself relax. He rubbed his face against her hair, inhaling the scent of clean woman, holding her until she had cried herself out, until she lay in his arms, quiet and comfortable. Sometime later, she lifted her face and smiled a small smile at him. "Thank you, love," she said softly. He ran a finger along the line of her jaw and bent down to kiss her, and she laid her hand against his cheek and kissed him back, a leisurely, slow, lingering kind of kiss before settling peaceably against him once more. When he fell asleep a moment later, he could still feel the touch of her fingertips against his skin.