Severus waved his wand in the direction of the windows. The curtains swished together, shutting out the meagre amount of light that came in through the high apertures. He turned back to the bed where his wife now lay.

"Better?" he asked, smoothing her unruly hair away from her forehead and testing her temperature at the same time.

Hermione nodded once instinctively and then flinched as the slight movement sent ribbons of pain shooting through her forebrain.

Severus shook his head gently, a single eyebrow lifting in something far too tolerant to be disapproval. He Summoned a vial of her potion, cradling her head while she drank it.

"Next time, I don't care which class you're teaching, even if it means summoning an elf to fetch it for you, you take your potion before it turns into migraine."

This time Hermione's only acknowledgement was a slow blink of her eyes.

Severus understood. Next time she'd remember and probably the time after that. The blink was her way of saying, "Yes, Professor," but sooner or later she would forget and they would both be back here. He eased off his boots and propped himself up against the headboard before settling a pillow over his lap. "Come here," he sighed softly.

Hermione turned onto her side and scooted over. She rested her head on the pillow, and Severus immediately began to stroke her brow with the lightest touch of his fingertips.

His voice a silken whisper, Severus began. "When you are old..."

---

WHEN YOU ARE OLD


by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)


WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
 
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
 
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.


"When You Are Old" is reprinted from The Rose. W.B. Yeats. 1893.