Point of Refuge.

By MinervasQuill.

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing belongs to me.

Author's Note: Huge big thank you's to Miss Ang who I dropped this fic on to without any warning to read through and act as a second pair of eyes.


It had been a long night. He had been summoned ten hours ago, and every one of those hours had dragged on. They hadn't been summoned because of new news or a plan but because the Dark Lord was bored. It was boredom that led the creature, once known as Tom Riddle, to cast unforgivable curses one after the other after other at his followers. He had been lucky this time and had returned from the meeting unscathed. He felt tainted though. Dirty from watching the withering and the pain of his fellow Death Eaters. He wouldn't deny that they deserved the pain but watching the brightness fade from their eyes was disturbing, and he didn't wish pain on anyone really.

Arriving on the street that housed one of his many secret hideaways, he breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes fell upon the familiar grey stone cottage. Out of the places he owned, this was the one place, aside from Hogwarts, that he classed as home. He walked up the path and felt a tingle as he walked through the wards guarding this home. The door opened for him and after he was inside, it bolted shut behind him. There was nothing special about this cottage. It was decorated in pale colours. It was comfortable and it held places for his books and potions. He didn't need trinkets cluttering up his personal space, though a small number of little things like photo frames and figurines had snuck in over the years. He made his way into the kitchen and fixed poured himself a small glass of whiskey. The woody flavoured nectar slipped down his throat and sent warmth radiating out of his stomach. It was just what he need after the evening he had experienced.

Before bed, there was one other thing he needed to do and that was shower. He needed to wash away the dirt that he felt that covered him. He liked to go to bed clean. He always had. Even when he returned home, broken, he would bathe despite the pain he often felt. Arriving at the bathroom, he shut the door and stripped down before stepping into the shower. It blasted out steaming hot water and pummelled down over his body, massaging his tired body. The shower was a wonderful muggle Muggle invention. He reached out for one of the many bottles that housed shampoos, conditioners and scrubs and pulled a green bottle out of the smelly scented collection. He unscrewed the bottle top which promptly slipped from his hands and rolled off somewhere unreachable. He would find it in the morning. Washing his hair and body didn't take too long and he was soon out of the water and drying himself. He felt much more refreshed and cleaner. His mind still felt grubby but that came with the job. He wandered out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. The curtains were already drawn and his covers turned down. He slipped under the covers and his body immediately sought out the warmth coming from the person already sleeping in the plush bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he closed his eyes and breathed in her scent in. She turned in his arms and he knew she was awake. She always slept lightly when he was out.

"You've used my shampoo," she said as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and sniffed at his freshly washed hair.

"I didn't see your name on it," he replied softly.

"Did you put the lid back on?" she asked not rising to the bait.

"Yes," he replied sleepily as his hand slipped out from under the covers and reached for his wand. A softly spoken spell fell from his lips and in the bathroom, the lid to the shampoo flew up from the floor where it had been left and screwed itself back on to the bottle.

"Liar," she said playfully jabbing him in the ribs.

"Well," he replied, his lips near her ear. "I do make my living out of being a professional liar."

He felt her stiffen slightly in his arms, and he immediately regretted his words. He often killed the playful mood between them with stating something that was often factual. It was rare for them to forget about the outside world and the war they were both involved in. They had promised each other that they wouldn't bring darkness to their bed, but it was hard for them because it surrounded them constantly.

"I did it again, didn't I?" he said softly as his hands rubbed soothing circles on her back to relax her.

"You did," she replied. He felt her smile against his skin.

He dropped a kiss on to her shoulder and trailed softer kisses along up to her neck and, chin until he captured her lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

"You are forgiven, though," she whispered after the kiss. "You always know how to get round me."

"Oh yes," he said as his hands moved to slip under her chemise. "Let me show you what else I can do."

"Severus," she said placing her hands on his, stopping his movements. "Let me be serious for a moment. How did tonight go?"

"Our promise," he reminded her.

"You broke it moments ago so it's allowed," she replied.

"Gryffindor logic, I suppose." He grumbled as he wiggled his hands from under hers. He wanted to free them so they could continue to their original destination.

"So?" she questioned as she gripped on his hands tighter.

"Can it wait till the morning, love?" he asked. "I don't want to bring it to bed with us. This bed, with you in it, is my point of refuge."

"Oh, Severus," she said softly letting go of his hands and bringing her own to his face and cupping it with them. "I love you."

"And I love you, Minerva," he replied honestly "but that's enough of that and let me get back to what I had planned before you got all serious."

***THE END***