I'm back... :)
Title: Mine to Hold
Team: The Order, dahling
Word Count: exactly 300 (3x100)
Challenge: Caught
Characters: Hermione, Severus, & OC
A/N: I found time during class today to type up a few little drabbles. I see that the Order hasn't been doing so hot lately... here's my contribution to the cause. :) Enjoy!
“Why won’t you hold her?”
“She’s not mine to hold.”
“Severus…”
“I’ve asked no questions. Do not tell me lies.”
She gulped, the tears rolling off her chin, soaking her shirt.
“Ella Weasley is not mine to hold.”
He shook his head, willing the memory away.
He had loved her very much during the war. They’d shared a lab, shared debates, shared a bed.
Shared a child.
He’d known Ella was his the moment he saw her. There was nothing of Ron in her. She had Hermione’s hair, face, nose, chin, fingers. And his eyes. Dark, obsidian eyes that swallowed you whole.
---
He gulped. He was not a man to marry; this he knew. He had rebuked Hermione’s constant pleas that they take their relationship “to the next level.” Whatever the next level was…
She’d started dating Ron to invoke his jealousy. Then she’d found out she was pregnant…
Ron had insisted on marrying her. Obviously, he thought the baby was his. Things had happened that Hermione refused to admit.
Severus closed his eyes. He knew how to shut out the pain.
Tonight, though…
Tonight was Christmas. Hermione and Ron were asleep in their bedroom. The entirety of the Weasley clan was here. Minerva, Remus and Tonks…
---
Him.
And his daughter. He walked into the nursery slowly and gazed over the crib where the two-year-old lay, curled up in a ball, sucking her thumb. Severus reached down and drew a blanket over her. She relaxed, and turned in the direction of his hand. He instinctively pulled it away, placing his hands on the high wooden rail.
He looked at her, examining the features he’d long since memorized. Her lovely chin, small nose, long, thick lashes. Her hair was a mass of brown curl, a blend of fuzz and sleek. Of her mother and me.
Meanwhile, Hermione stood in the doorway watching them; her tears silent as her prayers.
Team: The Order, dahling
Word Count: exactly 300 (3x100)
Challenge: Caught
Characters: Hermione, Severus, & OC
A/N: I found time during class today to type up a few little drabbles. I see that the Order hasn't been doing so hot lately... here's my contribution to the cause. :) Enjoy!
“Why won’t you hold her?”
“She’s not mine to hold.”
“Severus…”
“I’ve asked no questions. Do not tell me lies.”
She gulped, the tears rolling off her chin, soaking her shirt.
“Ella Weasley is not mine to hold.”
He shook his head, willing the memory away.
He had loved her very much during the war. They’d shared a lab, shared debates, shared a bed.
Shared a child.
He’d known Ella was his the moment he saw her. There was nothing of Ron in her. She had Hermione’s hair, face, nose, chin, fingers. And his eyes. Dark, obsidian eyes that swallowed you whole.
---
He gulped. He was not a man to marry; this he knew. He had rebuked Hermione’s constant pleas that they take their relationship “to the next level.” Whatever the next level was…
She’d started dating Ron to invoke his jealousy. Then she’d found out she was pregnant…
Ron had insisted on marrying her. Obviously, he thought the baby was his. Things had happened that Hermione refused to admit.
Severus closed his eyes. He knew how to shut out the pain.
Tonight, though…
Tonight was Christmas. Hermione and Ron were asleep in their bedroom. The entirety of the Weasley clan was here. Minerva, Remus and Tonks…
---
Him.
And his daughter. He walked into the nursery slowly and gazed over the crib where the two-year-old lay, curled up in a ball, sucking her thumb. Severus reached down and drew a blanket over her. She relaxed, and turned in the direction of his hand. He instinctively pulled it away, placing his hands on the high wooden rail.
He looked at her, examining the features he’d long since memorized. Her lovely chin, small nose, long, thick lashes. Her hair was a mass of brown curl, a blend of fuzz and sleek. Of her mother and me.
Meanwhile, Hermione stood in the doorway watching them; her tears silent as her prayers.