You Are The Cofin.
She had a fever.
Three whole weeks had passed since her rather traumatic awakening following her rather traumatic birth to a rather traumatic revealing of the fact she was not having one baby, but two.
Three whole weeks, and now she had a fever. Severus in his part, came to check in her often, even when the children were resting and he didn’t technically have to be in the room. He insisted on taking in her care himself, and often brought her meals, snacks, books, and had taken to routinely checking her vitals. He informed her that the second day she was unconscious, he did recruit the help from Poppy, and she informed him of the laceration she suffered after the abrupt arrival of Isobel. Though it was not dire, it was still somewhat of a concern when an infection had formed after the wound was spelled shut.
He also informed her that she would have to stay in bed rest until the Matron could come back to do a complete all over and let them know what to do about it, as no potion or tonic was helping. And now she had a fever. Though he wouldn’t tell her how high, she knew it was worry some. Her milk supply had depleted suddenly, and she had a yellowish tint to her skin. She saw the worry in his eyes Every time he looked at her, and she herself couldn’t help but feel like a burden.
Had this man not done enough? How was it that he was still, somehow, taking care of her. She thought back to when he made his reverent claims that he would take care of their children, that they would never be in want and would need for nothing. He had included her in that revelation, but she knew it was purely out of honor. Severus Snape was an honorable man. Severus Snape was a man that deserved freedom and a tether-less life. She could see the genuine love within his eyes whenever he so much as spoke of the twins, she knew he held no resentment towards them.
However, she couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts whenever he was alone with her. Especially as her fever progressed, she could tell he was becoming more and more agitated. He was never in his own room for too long, whether to get up with the twins since she could not leave the bed, or simply because she was coughing in her sleep, he never strayed to his library transformed sanctuary. He was deprived of sleep, and running himself ragged and it was all her fault.
Finally, after Harry threatened to bind and levitate him, he departed to take a shower, only agreeing to do so once the twins were down for their round moon nap. They’d noticed their longest stretches of sleep seemed to be from 1140am-2pm, like clockwork. Though, Regulus would frequently fuss, he never woke. Isobel was a very good sleeper, as such she was nearly a month old and almost sleeping through the night, take a small nap round noon, and again at 5pm before normally settling for the night around 8pm and not waking until 6am.
Regulus, on the other hand, was a very colicky, very affection driven baby. Hermione and Severus had to charm his lovey to not move from under his arm, for if he was not cuddled or coddled, his sleep was much more fitful, and he had a much harder time going down than his sister. The same was to be said about feeding. The baby boy did not appreciate the transition from mothers milk to synthetic formula they had bought from the muggle shops, but with her ever increasing health decline, her milk supply was not enough to sustain the two children, even with the syphoning spell Molly had taught Hermione.
All she could focus on in her time to herself was the massive short comings she had been doling out since she had shown up to number 12 Grimmauld Place. Resigning that it would be another week or so before Madam Pomfrey could come back to check on her, and Severus agreeing that they should avoid St. Mungos at all cost given the reform was still in its infancy, thrown in with the fact she was an unwed mother, of Muggleborn status, they figured it was much safer with the veteran matron to continue her post natal care.
She decided she would make a list of priorities for when she began the mend. First things first, she would go for a damned walk. Between Severus and Harry, she could barley pull the covers back before one of them burst through the door, chastising her. It was as if they had charmed her bedding to inform them when she attempted to leave the bed, in fact, with the way Severus had gone into a right state in the last week, she wouldn’t put it past either of them.
The second thing she would do is build back up her milk supply. Every muggle and wizarding book on motherhood said that mothers milk was sacred and insanely beneficial for the infants. While she rationally knew, fed was best, as she herself was formula fed because of her mother age and near immediate decline into menopause after her birth, she knew it wasn’t the end of the world. Nonetheless, she felt the need to prove herself. This what was her body was made for, and she wouldn’t thrown in the towel on any terms but her own.
The third thing would be to sell her parents vacation home. While she loathed the idea of being dependent and a burden on anyone, Harry had offered her and the twins a home and free reign for as long as she wanted, and not having any more ties to the muggle world, she figured a year or two with Harry and Ginny would be good for her and the children. Not having any siblings of her own, the support she received from Harry alone was simply monumental. He had always understood her on a level that no one else could hope to touch.
The fourth and most and least pressing, would be to talk to Severus practically about their plans moving forward. Though she had tried to initiate conversation in the passed three weeks, he quickly shit it down saying no decisions needed to be made until she was well again. In fact, the last time she had attempted to have a conversation about what he would like to do in terms of visitation, as she knew he had a new life in Ireland, and would not want to prolong a stay at the Potter residence, he had completely snapped.
“Severus, I understand no decisions need to be made right away, but I know you hate it here. You have a business, life to get back to. We really should talk about what to do moving for-“
“Enough!” He hissed, turning his glare from the pages of his tomb to her bloodshot eyes, “I’ve told you time and time again, I will not have this discussion with you now, you are unwell, and I am making no plans to leave you alone to care for the children alone when you cannot even care for yourself!”
She felt the sting of tears rise in her eyes, as his own shut tightly as he steadied himself. There was truth in his words, she knew it. She couldn’t move without a jolt of sharp pain in her abdomen, her head was constantly clouded with a dull ache, and she could barely hold even one of the babes without assistance. The truth of it all It didn’t make it hurt any less, especially when it was the father of her children pointing out her inadequacies. Gingerly setting his book to the side of the live seat, he leaned forward, grasping her hand with a gentle but firm hand.
“I did not mean to lose my temper. I apologize. However, I will not repeat myself again, Miss Granger. I will be here for as long as I am needed, when you are healthier we may make the decisions you so desperately want to sort out.”
As if she had manifested him, the man on her mind walked through her door, damp hair hanging loose beneath his jaw line, a plum colored jumper and dark house pants adorned his body. She briefly noticed he was not wearing socks, but immediately forced herself to focus on the small array of snacks he had done up on a serving tray. Meats, cheeses, jam, pickles, and fruit were spread along the board, along with some sort of muggle tin drink that was in the corner of it all. This wasn’t the first time he had coke in mid day with a sort of deconstructed meal for her, but today of all days she just couldn’t handle it.
Walking to her side, he gingerly set down the tray on the small bedside table, before taking his place in the love seat beside her mattress.
“You’ve hardly eaten in two days, even your lions mane is looking deflated. I expect you to eat at least half of this, lest I should have to force feed you. An unpleasant experience, I assure you.”
Even now, as he was attempting humor, Hermione could not reign herself in as she noticed the underlying issue he was acknowledging yet again. She couldn’t take care of herself. Or, she wasn’t. Tears of self hatred spilled over before she could even attempt to stifle them and within a manner of seconds she was in a full blown state of sobbing. Her only saving grace was the reverse silencing charm on to Twins’ small nursery.
Her body began to shudder as her sobs turned into full on wails of self despair, she was so desperately attempting to reign in her emotions that she didn’t notice the man leaning over her, the soft lips on the corn of her head, the soothing fingers on the side of her neck, nor the thumb swiping back and forth around her wrist in a way that only her mother had ever done before to calm her after nightmares during the beginning of the war.
No, she didn’t notice the sweet words leaving his lips, though she felt them moving against her hair. Not until her lungs aches and her hyperventilating began to wane. She didn’t notice her was holding her now, until she began to slowly go limp in his arms. But once she noticed, the apologies came out in a sputtering fire. Voice muffled by his shirt, unsure how she had ended up completely engulfed in his broad chest and warm embrace, she spoke in rapid succession.
“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry.. I’m so so sorry.. I didn’t… I don’t mean to be… I’m sorry!”
Her tears began once more, and he didn’t utter a word. He simply shook his head, letting out a long sigh and held her closer. He was too warm, impossibly warm. Impossibly close. Felt so safe she could even begin to comprehend everything that had happened between them before, or now. She couldn’t comprehend how this man, this literal hero, was holding her in his arms as she was tinged yellow, covered in snot and salty tears, patiently waiting for her to settle as if he had done it a million times before.
But, she supposed he had, in different ways.
She couldn’t ponder any further on the thought or the shame of once again being saved by him, for her eyes began to become to heavy, her breathing shallowed, and the last thing she noticed before she left the plane of consciousness was three simple words from a deep timbre was over her.
“I’ve got you.”