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Hermione sits at the entrance to the tent, hunched over her knees. As effective as her wards are against people and animals, they do nothing against the natural elements. The snow seeps into her denims, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s as cold outside as she is inside.
“Hermione?”
She startles, blinking away her tears hastily before looking up at Harry. “What is it?”
“It’s my turn for watch.”
“Oh, right.”
Before she goes back into the tent, she takes a moment to look at her best friend. Harry, still always on the thinner side, had gained some weight since going to Hogwarts; That’s gone now. There are bags under his eyes which look perpetually exhausted and a tension in his shoulders that she hasn’t seen him relax in months. He’s worn down and battered and her heart hurts for him.
She goes back and wraps her arms around him, a gesture he returns with confused affection. Hermione rests her head against his chest. “We’re going to be alright,” she tells him. “We’re going to figure it all out. This will be over soon.”
“Look at you comforting others with the words you wish to hear,” he says coldly.
Hermione pulls back. “Wh-What?”
“Doesn’t it get exhausting,” the voice continues and she realizes it’s not Harry, but the locket pressed between them. “You must see he doesn’t care about you. You’re just useful to him. The moment you stop being useful, he’ll leave. Just like Ron did.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispers. “Harry wouldn’t—”
“He’s left you before. At Hogwarts. You remember, don’t you? Always alone. Always abandoned. No more than you deserve of course, after abandoning your parents like you did.”
“I s-saved them.”
“Is that what you tell yourself,” the voice croons. “You really think the Dark Lord couldn’t hunt them down and squash them like the insects they are. They’re helpless Muggles and you’ve left them all alone. You can’t save them. You can’t even save yourself.”
Hermione tries to pull the chain from her neck but the pendent burns her palm when she grabs it. She screams and tugs as the pain gets sharper. Harry watches impassively, making no move to help her and then his face changes.
Blond hair. Grey eyes. A blank stare as she writhes on the drawing room floor. She screams and thrashes against Bellatrix but the witch doesn’t get up. Hermione can’t breathe. Ron is yelling her name. A searing heat licks up her spine. The voice changes. Deepens.
Hermione blinks.
Her skin is damp.
Her legs are trapped in the covers of her bed.
And Severus Snape is sitting beside her.
“Hermione?”
“Prof—Severus?”
“You’re safe,” he tells her, tentatively reaching a hand towards her face. When she doesn’t move, he strokes her hair behind her ear. She leans into the touch reflexively and his face softens minutely. “Do you know where you are?”
“This is our house,” she says weakly. “It’s… It’s 2006?”
“2007,” Severus corrects. “Today is New Year’s Day.”
“The fireworks.”
He nods. “I think so. What was it this time?”
“It was the same story as always,” she mumbles, sitting up slowly. Severus guides her, the gesture more about the contact than a physical need. “A day in the forest after Ron left. The horcrux telling me that Harry would abandon me, too.”
“And then Draco?”
“He just watched,” she says, voice wobbling. “He just stared—”
Her breath hitches and Severus shifts so that she’s cradled in his arms. Hermione presses her nose into his neck, breathing in his scent like a calming drug. His lips brush against her forehead.
“Would you like me to request a different Healer?”
She shakes her head. “It was just a bad dream.”
“They’ve been increasing in frequency. Perhaps him being part of your care team is making it worse.”
“Maybe,” she admits reluctantly. “But I’d rather talk to him about it first. I would like to work through it with him rather than ostracize him for the rest of the pregnancy.”
“Our baby is more important than Draco’s feelings.”
Hermione sighs as she rubs her belly. “I know, but the stress and guilt of ostracizing Draco over events we set behind us so long ago is not going to be helpful for the baby either.”
“Then don’t stress about it,” he says drily.
She rolls her eyes. “It really is that simple to you, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. Hermione relaxes further against him.
“I would rather talk to him about it. It would be incredibly ironic if I were to just abandon our friendship because I’m having pregnancy-induced nightmares about abandonment.”
“Is that what it is?”
“It’s the common theme.” She rubs her chest. “The pain is new, but I think that’s my mind adding in the round ligament pain.”
“That’s a problem I can solve.”
“Oh?”
“What good is having a potion’s master for a husband if he can’t make a pregnancy safe salve?”
“Well, they are quite good with their hands,” she murmurs suggestively. “That has a lot of applications.”
Severus pulls back to look at her, desire and concern competing in his eyes. “I just woke you up from a nightmare.”
“I know,” she agrees, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “My hormones are all over the place.”
“I am happy to do whatever you need,” he murmurs, shifting so his lips ghost over hers. “I just want to take care of you properly.”
“You do an excellent job of that,” she reassures him before kissing him properly.
____________
Hermione lies curled up against Severus’ side, his hand trailing circles between her shoulder blades. Although clearly satiated, she hovers somewhere between awake and asleep. He assumes fear of another nightmare makes it difficult to properly fall. Severus rolls her over onto her side and wraps his arms around her properly, one possessive hand resting on the swell of her belly.
“I’ll always be here, duck,” he murmurs into her ear. “Sleep.”
She threads her fingers through his and pulls his hand up to kiss it before returning it to rest on her stomach. “Love you.”
“As I love you.”
Sleep claims her almost at once. Severus, on the other hand, does not sleep. Instead, he keeps a quiet vigil, offering a soothing word or stroke of his hand each time her breath so much as hitches. At one point, Hermione turns in his arm and nuzzles into his chest. The simple gesture nearly undoes him. As much as he hates her nightmares, it's not lost on him that moments like these are ones he's dreamed about since he was a boy. He’s never loved anything the way he loves the witch in his arms. His hand moves to the swell of her belly. Their son, he suspects, will be a close second.