Important: The round has ended, and I'm obligated to put in a warning. This will be an 'M' rated piece; there will be mentions of sex, drugs, death, and rape within the piece. Read with caution, please.

House: Slytherin

Category: Short

Summary: After discovering that Hermione has stolen a Horcrux from Lord Voldemort, Severus Snape takes her away and into hiding. Shortly after arriving to the secluded cabin in the woods, Severus confronts Hermione, and he doesn't like what he discovers. The mistakes that he makes today could never atone for the mistakes he'll make tomorrow. Though, love has a proven people wrong.

Prompts: Anger [Emotion] and "I'll make better mistakes tomorrow." [Speech]

Word count: 2160 (Excluding Author's Note but including entire Short and Title)

Author's Note (Oct 2018): I added a few things here and there within this newly advised first chapter. The round for this competition is long over, and I will be continuing this as of May 2019. :)

Dedication: This work is dedicated to Slytherin's Head of House, DaronwyK. I asked for her favorite pairing and came up with this idea (after countless hours of planning!). I really hope you like this, Kai-Chan! :)

As always, enjoy

-Carolare Scarletus

.~.

This life we Live

Chapter One

.~.

Hermione listened closely to the heavy drops of rain as it slammed against the stone walls. She'd been sitting by the window for quite some time, and the morbid scene outside was causing her to become more depressed. She longed to be outside, in the cold, freezing rain. It was where she belonged. As she watched the sky light up, her darkened skin became more apparent against the backdrop of their cabin. It's been several months since they've gone into hiding, and Severus was no closer to figuring out her illness let alone what their next course of action. Hermione looked at the bracelet on her right hand, grimaced, and stopped the tears before they came. She'd rather die than let Severus find out that she abused his trust, and stolen one of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes while fleeing the Department of Mysteries. Severus was very proud of her, though, it did little to appease the bedlam brewing from within.

"How long do you think it'll last?" she asked, getting up to look out the large window, her eyes shining despite the lack of light.

Severus quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. Hermione took his silence as an indication that he didn't know. It could be hours, and it could be days; the weather could change in an instant, and they'd never truly be able to predict it. They'd have to leave soon, anyway.

"How are you feeling," he asked instead, more concerned about her health than the weather. "Have you taken the potions I gave you?"

She nodded her head once.

"How's your back?" he asked, keeping a cautious distance between them. "Your arm?"

"Stiff, but much better."

"I take that the potions helped some, then?"

"Immensely." She nodded before a thought occurred to her. "I didn't think it would be this hard," she told him softly, looking at him through the candlelight. They'd spent the last hour going over closing their minds, and the only thing she could amount for was the frustration that it brought. She knew that it took years to hone the skill; she just didn't think that her life would be involved. She didn't think she'd be months from death, either.

It had been her husband's decision to embark on the lessons after discovering her so close to death. After countless hours, she'd finally been able to close off a part of her mind and Severus' advances finally ceased. Hermione was beyond tired; as the hours ticked by, she could feel her magic diminishing beneath her skin. Whatever dark curse Voldemort put on the bracelet was a powerful one. She feared that their journey would be an unhappy one.

"I am not displeased," he told her in a hard tone. "In fact, I'm quite impressed. It takes years of practice, and I assure you that you've made grand strides. Even the most powerful of wizards cannot say they've done what you've been able to accomplish in such a short amount of time."

Hermione watched as his fingers moved across the glowing torch of the candlestick, her eyes following the short path it made. It made her wonder about a lot of things. Like, would they truly be safe and how long would they have to run? The candlestick was just about to reach the end of its life. How long until, they too, would perish?

"Care to do it again?"

"Must we?" she asked, exhausted. Even the simplest tasks were proving to be more strenuous of late, and she didn't think she'd be able to keep him at bay as long as she'd been able to.

"We don't have to…" he told her thoughtfully. "Although, I would like you to try closing your mind to me again. I do not think you've gotten it down. That is, if you are up to it."

"I'm fine," she told him.

Hermione stood from her chair, walked around, and stopped in front of him. With a smile, she nodded once to indicate that she was ready. A second later, she felt him dive into her mind, and she immediately slammed the first wall down, successfully blocking him from entering one memory she'd rather him not see. It had been during her sixth year, shortly after finding Ron and Lavender in an abandoned classroom. She couldn't say that the memory still haunted her, but she wished to forget about that awful night.

"This is an interesting memory, Hermione," Severus said softly, looking around at the black and white scene. "Though, you needn't worry about that Dunderhead, yes? Would you be able to shut me out if I pressed further?"

"No!"

Before Hermione could stop him, Severus pushed beyond the boundaries of her most guarded secret. She felt her entire world crumble away into a pile of charcoaled dust. The walls that kept the gates of her mind together collapsed under the weight of his discovery, and when he finally pulled away from her mind, Hermione was met with a storm of blacken rage and diaphanous smoke.

Blackened jets of light, hexed to send reverberating pain into the skin and through the body, were the only things keeping Hermione from falling flat on her face when her wand was wordlessly taken from her. Large bodies collided into hers, bringing her arms behind her back, forcing her chest to jut out in submission as someone kicked her legs, and she fell onto her knees, looking up at her disarmer. She made the mistake of letting her guard down, now she was paying the price.

Throwing out a curse, she lashed out violently against the invisible holds.

Hermione delved forward, grabbing hold of the purple bracelet before throwing another hex in the opposite direction. Once she stood, she quickly looked around to find swarms of Death Eaters closing in on her. Just beyond the crowd, she could make out Harry's frightened face as he dodged another jet of light. As she watched, she didn't notice the darkened figure step from far behind her, cast a steady jet of purple, which hit her squarely in the side. She fell screaming, her lungs forcefully pressed against her ribcage. The pain was excruciating, but nothing could compare to the sight that she beheld when she managed to lift her head from the sparkling floor of the ministry.

It wasn't long before she saw him.

His eyes spoke volumes, and her only solace came from the raging storm outside. Lightning lit up her world, scattering the darkness. In that very instant, he was able to piece together the series of events that led up to this very moment. From finding her in the Department of Mysteries to this damned disease that was slowly ravaging her from the inside out. She'd gone against his principles; she misused his trust.

"Would you care to explain what I just saw?"

"It was nothing," she said, her voice soft as she walked around him. Hermione tried desperately to control her breathing but it was to no avail. These sessions took more out of her than she originally thought and she was just beginning to feel the full effects of the disease that was slowly killing her. Death was a deceivious mistress and no one in their right mind should be foolish enough to mess with her. If she had learned anything at this point, it would be that.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed, grabbing hold of her arm. "Going there and fighting this pointless battle?"

"I wasn't doing anything wrong." Hermione tried to wrench her arm from his hold but failed. "Let go of me!"

"You nearly got yourself killed!" he screamed, before racking his hand through his lank hair. "You do not know how severe the repercussions of your actions are, Hermione. You put your life in danger, and for what?" he seethed, his eyes growing dark. "I came to tell you that this disease is the same one that would've killed the Headmaster. Now, I've come to discover that my idiotic wife's taken one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes and it's slowly killing her?"

"Then, you'll be able to cure this disease!"

"It's not as easy as you think," he growled, clearly inconsolable.

"It's the same thing you've faced with the Headmaster!" she shrieked, violently thrashing in his hold. "I don't see why you wouldn't be able to figure it out!"

"He asked me to kill him," he snarled darkly. "He didn't want a cure, he wanted death. I hadn't the choice back then, Hermione." Severus told her darkly.

Hermione stopped trying to escape. Her eyes met her husband's, though she feared that he shared something so deep that he'd turn around and leave her for good.

"H-he did what?"

"You heard me," he told her, slight malice in his voice. "My entire life's been plagued by choices of other people. Dumbledore is just another exceptional example of manipulation. I had no choice back then."

"Severus… I didn't know. I-"

"Save it, Hermione."

After a moment of silence, Hermione looked at him and said, "Forgive me."

"That's all you're going to say, isn't it?" Severus seethed, watching Hermione recoil from his touch. She looked around their private quarters. The sheets were still a mess; the pillows were thrown haphazardly across the room, as were their belongings. They stood there in the candlelight, basking in the only warmth that their chambers provided. It was a cold day in winter, and it was beginning to feel like a scene neither of them was prepared for. It's been several days since they've seen each other, but they didn't imagine their reunion would turn out like this.

"What do you choose to do, Severus," she asked quietly, her own defiance deflating before her.

"I had to do a great many of things that tested my loyalty to the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. I suppose I have placed my trust in the wrong person, then. I know now what I'll do next time."

"And, what is that, Severus?"

"I'll make better mistakes tomorrow." He told her, his voice strained with so much passion and emotion that it made the corners of her eyes prick with tears. "I don't care what it takes, I will save you, Hermione. That is what I'm choosing now."

"I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you…"

"You should have told me, you silly girl," he whispered. "This isn't one of our… lessons, Hermione. You simply cannot expect me not to care, or react the way I did. Besides, I am your husband. I have every right to know."

"I know," she whispered sadly.

"I know he was the one who gave you that bloody scar." He said, wrapping his arms around her. In his mind, his eyes traced the line from her collarbone, all the way to her other side of her torso as it wrapped around her body in an angry, raised line. Dolohov's Legacy, he knew. He pulled back, drawing in a sharp breath before meeting his wife's eyes. "I know you have nightmares of him getting you, and all you have to say is 'forgive me'. That simply won't fix what you have done."

She was about to apologize again, but she stopped herself. Her husband didn't want excuses; he wanted the truth. Dolohov had cast that curse in the hope to kill someone. Never did he imagine that his wife would be behind the toxic light. She would be forced to control the dormant curse for the rest of her life, or she would die due to the effects of the bracelet; she'd have to rely on Severus more than ever, and she didn't think she could do that after all he's done to ensure her safety.

"How long do I have?"

"A couple of months," he told her softly. "A year or so, if I'm lucky. The best case scenario, I'll find a cure and the disease will cease, but you'll be left terribly scarred."

"And, the worst case?"

"Your saving grace will not come in time, and you will die."

Hermione's arms tightened around her husband and she let out a staggering breath. "I don't want to die. I'm so sorry, Severus. I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"

"I know." Severus' voice melted into the night. "I'll find a way to save you."

The two of them stood there, basking in each other's warmth before the call of the night pulled Severus from Hermione one last time. He lifted her chin up, and kissed her with all the undying passion that he could elicit. When he pulled back, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled.

"He is calling me," he told her softly. "I must leave soon."

"Where are you going?" she asked, desperate for him to stay one more night. "I-I can't do this on my own."

"You're not going to be alone," he promised her. "I will be with you, always."