Okok, so the people reading this now might want to shoot me point blank for making it like two years without an update. I am quite sorry for that but on the bright side here is the fourth chapter and I have already started the fifth so it should be up sometime.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, much to the sadness of my person.

I hope you enjoy! P.S. – I didn't double check for errors, so just roll with them unless they're absolutely horrible. Then I have failed.

The small clock on the wall chimed its destitute hour, rattling the sordid wallpaper as it hung from the sturdy walls it encompassed; the rather bleak din traversed the worn planks of wood, following the footpaths that led the innocent noise to the back room of the ancient cottage where two souls sat in complete silence, both internally engaged in thoughts the other were bound to be thinking.

Hermione pulled on the bottom of her blue button-up, a habit she had developed since abandoning the wizarding uniform and robes at the end of the school year, her full attention was placed on the man before her, his thin head in his calloused hands as she adjusted the offending garment.

It had been six weeks since their mysterious disappearance from Grimmauld Place and nothing about the process of leaving everything and everything behind had been easy – much as Severus said it would be. His warning that it would be a hard and unusual life had been right; they were cut off from the rest of the world, only on few occasions when she would exit the building for mandatory needs such as food and potion ingredients.

Her mouth opened in an attempt to say something, anything that would end the tormenting silence that mushroomed the tiny room in the few moments that her beloved had retuned.

"H-how is your arm?"

Severus's right arm, which had been injured recently, had not reacted well with wizard potions and remedies that were tried to help heal his abrasions so muggle medicine was the only means by which he could be helped. Though she knew that it had been better – he told her that everyday – she still found inquiring after it to be a suitable conversation starter in desperate times. Like now.

The black head shot up as the female voice echoed around the barren room, the sudden movement causing a stir in the flames that perched upon brass candelabras. His hands did not waver from their cradle-like pose as their source of weight left, shadows quickly fighting their way to dance off of his pale skin.

"My arm, Hermione?" His trademark smirk graced his sallow face, earning an up-tempo dance of Hermione's heartbeat as she watched with delight her Severus slowly retreat back to the impressively smart man she knew. "I must say that your inquiry of the limb is unnecessary and a rather large miss at trying to spark a conversation. I dare say, you have had better topics in the past days."

Hermione's face flushed red at his words, successfully making the young witch wish she had never opened her mouth in the first place and just sat in torture of the oppressing muteness. She squirmed further back to the upholstered wing backed chair she chose to sit in and wait.

"However, thank you for asking." His tone harnessed an affectionate edge when he noticed his company regret the act of interrogation. "It is better now that it has been attended to."

Her small smile shone through the shadows and ever so softly, Severus returned the action with trepidation. He resented the certainty that Hermione could always bring even the most remote smile to his face yet loved her the more for making him feel like he was a human who deserved to live and be loved.

Heaving a great sigh the elder man pushed off of his knees, releasing the chair from the comforting weight and shuffled his boots across the hollow floor to the girl where he encircled her hands and brought her form to meet his.

Hermione helped him lift her from her seat with his arm in mind and snatched a candelabrum from the worn out surface, holding it away from their bodies while the large flames flickered to and fro as a result.

"Come now, Severus, you must be hungry. There is a lovely selection of food in the kitchen that should accommodate your picky appetite; not saying it's picky, rather mine is, but all the same."

Her small hand found his large one and being assured he was holding it the curly haired girl turned and walked through the ancient doorway, out to the drafty hallway that never brightened the weary spirits and straight to a door on the other side of the way that held a rather cozy gray kitchen with a barren wooden table, complete with matching chairs.

Scraping noises resounded through the echoing lumber as a lone chair was pulled out for the Deatheater-and-spy and Hermione followed his situated stance with the light source, depositing it on the middle of the dusty wood. The kitchen had been used only a few times, each of those being no more than to boil water for a soothing cup of tea; Hermione was eager to make something from the ingredients purchased at a local muggle grocery shop.

"Tonight, sir, we will be having, um," turning her back to him she quickly flung open a set of cupboard doors and fishing for graspable items. "Tomato soup. Oh, goodness no, that's ghastly. Pop-tarts? Are for breakfast. Bread." The brown curls bounced as her head whipped around to stare at Severus, who had one eyebrow raised in questionable defiance and one hand covering his smirking mouth. "We have butter and cheese in the refrigerator – are you highly opposed to grilled cheese sandwiches?"

Hermione's companion showed no sign of movement or disagreement as the idea was launched forth from feet away. The boxed refrigerator was located in the corner of the room, out of convenient reach for anyone at the stovetop but located at the sight of the only outlet in the kitchen; in partnership of being out of the way the contraption was quite noisy, a discovery made by Hermione as she pulled the handle and was met with a series of grating.

"Oh bugger!"

The house was suddenly awoken by boisterous laughter rolling off of the tongue of a solemn man, lining the crumpling wallpaper with reverberating noises too happy to ignore. Hermione turned from the noisy object and stared blatantly at Severus, who had become doubled over in an effort to control the forceful chuckling and was now close to ending up on the checkered, linoleum floor.

"By the gods what is so funny?"

Hermione's shoes resounded from the gray floor to the wooden siding and told the story of her march to the gent who so truculently jested at her attempt to feed them both; facing him after pacing over to him her hands found his face and elevated it to look at her. Her prideful visage broke at the sight of his closed eyes and smiling mouth coaxed her full smile out of hiding and laughter of her own soon joined the deep commotion.

Minutes later, with their laughter subdued and their bodies on the floor against the grimy baseboard of the kitchen walls, Hermione rested her head against Severus's great shoulder and examined the quickly fading laugh lines around his tired eyes and mouth. The cottage was once again silent though the heavy soundlessness was kept at bay from the hard wind gaining power outside the rattling windows.

"It was delightful to hear you laugh so, Sev, it was like the whole world had faded from existence and there was only you and your wonderfully free life to care about. I wish it would happen more often."

The cold vault was left open and sent waves of chilly air through the room, caressing the abandoned bread that was resting next to the dirty stovetop and the gaping cabinet door allowed the soft gust to dance with cans and boxes of all sizes.

Severus's arm draped itself across Hermione's shoulders and his hand rested lightly on the side of her knee, holding her close to him.

"I must admit that I do not remember a time when I laughed as such; for that matter, even laughed at all."

"Oh yes, I do believe I have a horrid influence over you. I make you laugh, you certainly aren't that threatening anymore, and I have altered your style."

Hermione's hand cruised over the thick cotton of his simple long-sleeved black shirt that contrasted perfectly with the dour and bland atmosphere of the nowhere cabin – although that wasn't saying much for anything out of the colour spectrum of muffled silver was in discordance.

"How unfortunate for me and my fancy button-ups."

Hermione's light giggle pranced throughout the desolate hallways and sitting rooms, then returned to the pair it so rightly belonged to. Their light mood was interrupted by the unanticipated smothering of the three flickering flames by the crash of forceful wind upon a loose window lock, a move leaving both tense and on guard for any foreign movement.

Confronted by nothing save the whipping breeze Severus stilled Hermione's hand in reach of her wand.

"No, I've it."

No sooner than he had advanced his thin hand to his sleeve a burning sensation overwhelmed his left forearm; those fingers tightened around Hermione's knee only to release the firm grip. Hermione noted something went awry when his hand stopped in pursuit of his wand yet knew he was being summoned at the flexing of his agile fingers.

Her head lowered to her jeaned knees and rested there as Severus rose to his feet, wordlessly fled the kitchen and listened to the soundless closet door open for its master.

Hermione slid ungraciously down the dirty wall to collide with the lackluster checkers that disregarded the feelings of its tenant, gathering the last wisps of his body heat and familiar scent as she held in her tears until the front door had closed fully around the leaving man.

So that was it, congratulations to you if you have made it to this small note that probably no one would read yet I write anyway. SMILES!

Love to All,

Kat

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