Evermore

Broken Vows

1997

Pale hands clutched the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink, a shaky breath escaping Severus' lips. Dumbledore was gone. He had done it, he had killed him. Guilt wracked his entire body, but he had been forced to hide his emotions the entire night. Now that he was alone, he could not sleep, his mind swirling with uneasy thoughts. How could he keep going on like this? What must everyone be thinking? What must she think of him?

Severus pushed away from the sink with a heavy sigh, nudging the door open. He leaned against the door frame, his cold gaze following a beam of moonlight that washed over the woman in his bed. Her blonde curls shone in the soft glow, splayed over the pillows in waves of silver. She looked peaceful, as if she hadn't spent the last two hours screaming and crying.

"I don't understand, Severus, this isn't you!"

He had ignored her, jaw clenched tight as he kept himself silent.

"Just tell me why? Why did you do it?"

He couldn't tell her even if he wanted to.

"Severus, please!"

She was still wrapped up in his cloak under the quilt, clutching it in her sleep. It made his heart ache. Severus crossed the room to sink into the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. She did not stir, deep in a dreamless sleep where she did not have to think about what he had done. He felt unworthy as he reached forward to run his fingers through her silken hair, his gaze still fixated on her sleeping form.

"How did we get ourselves here, Ophelia?

Severus looked down at his sleeping wife, guilt wringing his heart. He had made a vow to her that he would protect her and never hide anything from her, but he had also made an unbreakable vow to do what Draco could not. And now Dumbledore was dead . A heavy sigh escaped him and Ophelia stirred in her sleep, her nose scrunching up slightly. He fell silent, not wanting to wake her, but her eyes fluttered open and a soft whimper fell from her lips when she remembered what had happened. Severus pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back soothingly.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. Always ."

The following morning, they had breakfast together in silence, both of them trying to collect their thoughts and feelings before either of them said something they would regret. Severus was the first to speak, long after he had finished his second cup of tea.

"Are you disappointed in me?" His voice was hoarse from misuse, the first words of the day weighing heavy on him. His wife cleared the table, her gaze avoiding his as she cleared away their empty tea cups and the newest issue of The Daily Prophet. "My flower-"

Ophelia's jaw clenched, her eyes fixed on the moving portrait of Dumbledore's obituary. She considered his words for a moment, her heart thumping dull in her chest as she reread the words on the page. Murdered.

"Ophelia?" His low voice drew her out of her daze and she finally met his gaze with a soft, inquisitive hum. "I asked if you're disappointed in me?"

She didn't miss a beat. "No. I can't bring myself to that point."

"But you're trying. Trying to hate me?"

His wife fell deadly silent, her hands now gripping the newspaper as she tore her gaze away from him, afraid of what he might see if she continued to look him in the eyes. "I could never hate you. I promised you that when I married you, didn't I?"

Severus had eventually told Ophelia everything he could about why and how he had killed Dumbledore, and though she had believed every word he spoke he could not deny her time to grieve. He was prepared for her to tell him to leave the house they had bought together in the English countryside, prepared for her to hate him. He still had Spinner's End, where Voldemort expected him to be staying, he could go there if his wife wanted space. He was nearly ready to get up and pack his things when he felt a familiar pair of icy hands on his neck.