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“Severus,” Hermione calls as she pushes open the front door. She readjusts the takeaway in her hands and kicks the door shut behind her. “Severus?”
While she’s quite a bit earlier than usual, he’s typically sitting with a book or potions journal while he waits for her. A quick glance at the sitting room tells her he’s not been doing either. She takes her time setting out the containers on the coffee table. Then she nudges one of the trick bookcases aside to fetch glasses and drinks from the kitchen. There’s no obvious sound of him moving upstairs, so she ventures down to the laboratory.
“Severus?” She calls from the top of the stairs. Silence.
The hair along the back of her neck rises. It’s not like him to ignore her. It was strange enough that she had to let herself in. Hermione frowns as she walks down the step. The bulb seems to have burnt out. She flicks her wand for light just as she slides in something slick.
Her breath catches. There’s blood everywhere. She looks around the room quickly. There’s no sign of Severus, no sign of a struggle. Just so much blood. Her mind goes back to that night in the Shrieking Shack, when she held his gaping throat together with magic and sheer power of will. Bile rises in her throat.
“Severus!”
Hermione sprints back up the stairs. No longer distracted by something as ridiculous as their takeaway, she notices the bloody footprints leading upstairs. She trips up them in her haste.
“Severus, please answer me!”
Hermione stumbles onto the landing and straight into a hard chest. Steady hands grip her upper arms, and she’s seconds away from hexing the man until their eyes meet. Her mouth falls open, unable to form words as she looks at Severus Snape. Freshly showered, just a towel around his waist, Severus Snape.
“Hermione? What’s wrong?”
His wand is suddenly in his hands as he looks her over, searching for injury. She blinks stupidly trying to process how there was so much blood and yet he doesn’t have an apparent injury. Did he heal it already? Without thinking Hermione moves her hands to his chest, running her hands over him in a way she’s only dreamed about, too frantic to be cross that she can’t enjoy the experience.
“Hermione?” He sounds choked.
“I thought you were hurt,” she practically whimpers.
“Hurt? Why would you thi—You saw the lab.”
“Yes, I bloody saw the lab,” she snaps. “What the hell happened down there?”
“I… I dropped several vials of dragon’s blood.”
“You dropped dragon’s blood.”
“Accidents happen,” he says defensively.
Hermione’s hand moves from his chest to his forehead. “Are you unwell?”
“Funny.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I’m fine. I was simply flustered.”
Hermione releases a shuddering breath. “I—I thought… it made me think of when—of when you—”
“I’m okay,” he says softly, pulling her against his chest. His skin, still damp from the shower, is freshly soaked by her tears. “Shhh, I’m okay. I’m okay.”
He murmurs it against her hair like a mantra. Her racing heart refuses to calm even as she breathes him in. One of his hands cradles her head while the other rubs soothing circles over her back. Her hands trace his spine absently, the ridges and knots of scars, assuring herself he’s truly there with her.
Severus pulls back and cradles her face in his hands, wiping away the tears. “Breathe with me, love.”
Maybe it’s the endearment.
Or the adrenaline.
Or the far too numerous nights where she’s imagined him holding her like this.
Whatever it is, Hermione seizes the moment to press her lips to his in a bruising kiss. Severus stiffens at first, but before she can pull away in mortification he recovers. One hand tangles in her hair, the other crushes her against him. Her lips part in a gasp as she’s pressed against a door and he deepens the kiss.
The door swings open and they stumble backwards before he steadies them. Then Severus walks her carefully towards the bed. He sits first, pulling her to straddle him. She breaks the kiss to trail her lips down his neck. He bucks as her tongue laves over his scar and she does it again, cherishing the reminder that he survived. That he lives.
oOo
“Soooo,” Hermione drawls sleepily. “What had you so flustered?”
“You triggered the wards early.”
“That’s not exactly atypical,” she says, frowning in confusion.
“I know but today was different. I hadn’t properly prepared.”
She snorts. “Do you have some sort of ritual before reading my articles?”
“No,” he says with a half-hearted glare. “I was still working out how to ask you if you would consider becoming more than my peer review.”
Hermione bites her lip against a smile. “Have you worked out the answer?”
Severus’ eyes darken as he looks down at her, curled against his chest and wearing his shirt like a nightgown. “I have a theory.”