Surrender

Severus strode down the corridor of his home. Their home, he corrected himself silently. It was then he heard her sniveling. Bloody hell, here we go again.

What didn't I do this time?

He poked his head into her library door. She was curled up in the leather chair that sat before the fireplace, nursing a drink in her hand. He noticed too, her hand was roughly wiping her eyes.

It figures I can't make anyone happy. If only the Dark Lord would just DIE already. If only the ministry would revoke the law. Then she would be happy.

And it scared him that her happiness meant everything to him. She didn't ask for this. But between the law and Voldemort and the Order, they didn't have a choice. She could've gone to Malfoy or worse, and already be dead...or tortured, in which case the truth about him would have been found out. It really was the safest choice. And practical Hermione took it.

So he gave her what he thought she wanted; schooling, learning. Safety from the Death Eaters harassing her. A new contraception potion that the Ministry was as of yet unaware of. A quiet pride in her achievements. A place to work, a place of her own. A place, though it hurt him, away from him.

But he did not know how to deal in softness. So when she fell into her morosity, he would tell her to snap out of it. He finally stopped when he realized he only made things worse.

I always make things worse.

Like the time she shocked him. God she was beautiful. She came to him in the softest, sheerest silk of pale rose that simply made her skin glow. Why would she try to please him? He certainly didn't deserve it. And he made her cry again, when she knelt before him. What should have been a glorious sight only reminded him of a past time, when one of the other Death Eaters, set a muggle woman before him for the same purpose, laughing about how they doubted he got it much. The comparison tore at his soul, and he bit out an excuse quickly.

She didn't try again.

He stood at the half open door and watched her. The color of the drink had changed, it was a dark purple liquid she brought to her lips.

A Dark purple? She wouldn't!

Have I really been that much of an evil bastard?

"Hermione?" he quietly called out.

It didn't matter, the glass had already collapsed onto the floor, spilling forth over the deep red carpet.

"Hermione!" He yelled insanely as he strode quickly toward her. Her face had whitened, and shook her. He stared at her as she didn't respond. Quickly, he picked up her glass, sniffing at it. He recognized the scent of the sleeping draught, but it was the white crystals on the glass lip that caused him to gulp.

"No, You silly girl. Hermione, no."

Quickly, he placed a stasis spell on her, before rushing to his lab. Even with the time the stasis spell bought him, he only had about fifteen minutes. Fortunately, the cure did not require brewing, just mixing.

Quickly he pulled ingredients off his neat shelves, not caring about the mess he was creating. Mandrake juice, Pheonix tears, a bezoar; the most powerful restoratives.

She couldn't die.

He continued mixing then shakily poured it into a flask before rushing up the stairs. He rushed into the room, and collapsed on the floor at her side. Carefully, he pulled her face into his lap. Slowly pouring the restorative into her pursed mouth. He watched her face carefully, looking for the color to return. He held her gently in his arms, his long fingers stroking her arm in a way he would never had felt comfortable doing were she conscious. She didn't want his touch, though he longed to give it. He kissed her pallid forehead. Words that no one had ever heard from him poured from his lips...

"Please. Please don't leave Hermione."