Chapter 1. Longing

-S-

"He's cheating on me, I know he is," Hermione seethed as she paced the length of his bedroom. Severus sat, unamused, on his bed with a book in his hand as he listened to the witch rant. Her hair was frazzled, on end much like she was, and the jumper she wore was obviously quite well loved. She continued to pick at the fabric as she paced, a nervous habit he'd noticed since she started coming around to see him.

"Then leave him," he offered casually, flipping the page of his novel and frowning just a bit more to concentrate. The fact was that he couldn't, he never could when the witch decided to grace his flat with her presence. She had this intoxicating perfume and wore jeans that hugged her in all the right places. She'd grown since the war, matured, and it was definitely befitting her.

"I can't just leave him! He's my husband!" She retorted, grabbing a hold of the foot of the bed. He glanced over the top of his book to see her giving him a desperate look. Her golden brown eyes were glossy and their shallows made it obvious that she hadn't slept in days.

"You have no children, it's relatively new, and he's cheating on you," he emphasized with a roll of his eyes. She left out a frustrated grunt and threw her hands in the air before returning to the rut she was beginning to form on his floor. Placing his book down, he sat up a bit straighter against the headboard and sighed. "Listen, Hermione, you've been coming here every day for three weeks telling me he's up to something or he's said something to hurt you. I know you don't want to think about it, but the relationship is obviously not working, for either of you. Before anyone hurts any further, break it off," he insisted.

"You don't understand! The money that Molly and Arthur put into the wedding, the expectations..." her voice trailed off as she stopped moving, clutching her arms a bit harder and staring at one spot on the floor. "My parents only just got their memories restored and are devastated they missed the wedding," she explained in a lower voice, her tone sad and riddled with guilt.

"You make plenty at the ministry to pay them back, and, frankly, I think that a divorce might help your parents. At least they'll know they didn't miss much and they can be around for your next one." He hadn't been joking, but Hermione sent a smirk and a playful glare that told him she'd heard sarcasm in his voice. "I'll even help pay them back if it means you'll stop complaining," he added.

"You can't, everyone still thinks your dead," Hermione responded, her expression hardened as she returned to her position by the bedposts.

"I'd come out of hiding, might as well. Can't be happy forever," he joked.

"You'd really come out of hiding for me?" She asked, a hopeful quip lacing her words.

"Well, obviously it wouldn't just be for you." She scoffed at the response and he smirked. "It may have escaped your notice, but being cooped up in a small flat in muggle London isn't exactly what a wizard ought to be doing his whole life. Especially a war hero such as myself," he boasted mockingly. There was a slight pause and Hermione seemed to be genuinely thinking about having him back in the open. "But for now I'll stick to my flat. Between the haircut and the moustache, I'm unrecognizable."

"Aside from your voice," she commented offhandedly, staring off out his window at the sunset. He swallowed hard at the comment, having heard her mention his voice once before and the look of reverie she gets when she does.

"Yes, there's that," he replied, tapping his finger against the hardcover of the tome beside him. "How does mister Weasley feel about you sneaking off to see me every night? Might he not be just as suspicious?" He questioned, hoping to divert the topic back to her worries.

"No, I tell him I'm working and well..." She paused with a fat sigh. "He doesn't listen to me when I talk about work. Plus, even if he had his suspicions, he would never know it was you. If he ever found out, well... He thinks your dead, so he'd be more terrified of you being alive than anything," Hermione joked, a grin returning to her lips that he easily mimicked. The crinkle beside her eyes, the way her irises caught the setting summer sun, there was something about the witch that had not failed to enrapture him since she discovered him shopping weeks ago. Severus had come accustomed to seeing her at his door every night at half past five in the evening, a look of perplexion on her face as she stood in the door frame.

"So he's completely unaware?" The wizard prodded, watching her face fall as he did.

"Not sure he has the brains to think me capable of betrayal," she answered. "I'm not sure he knows anything of what I do with my life. I talk about work and he just tunes out, he's not interested in my day. I ask about his, but he doesn't share much. We don't talk much at all really, and he's always asleep by the time I get home." Her voice was distant, sad. The pain of thinking about her failing marriage was weighing heavy on her and it was becoming more and more evident as the days went on.

"So start getting home earlier," he answered, knowing she got off early enough to see him. And yet, if she ever stopped coming here, I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself. Two years had gone by without anyone knowing where I was, and within a week of seeing her beautiful face again, I knew I can't live without it, he mused.

"I could." The witch shrugged and leaned her hip against the bedframe.

"So why don't you?" Severus questioned.

"Because..." Her voice broke at the word. Biting her lip, she turned to him with her brows furrowed in guilt. "I... I don't think I love him anymore. We really haven't been the same since Harry... well... you know," his mind flashed briefly to the image of the Boy-Who-Lived and he tensed.

"Yes, I'm well aware of Mister Potter's circumstances," he assured her.

"It's just- he seemed to be the glue that held the two of us together and now that he's gone it just seems..." She paused, capturing her lip between her teeth once more. "Well, it seems like we're going through the motions for someone that's not even around to witness us being in a relationship. There's nothing there, at least not for me," the witch's voice dropped low and she hugged her midriff anxiously.

"And probably not for him if he's sleeping around," Severus teased, knowing exactly what he was doing. It wasn't right, to subtly confirm a witch's fears simply to have her free for his own benefit, but there was something about her that was driving him insane. She was brilliant, witty, interesting. An insufferable know-it-all had become adept at nearly everything she did with an apt for having something to contribute to anything.

"I only think he's sleeping around," she corrected him, walking slowly around the bed to perch herself on the edge of the mattress. She released a lengthy breath before she let herself lay back on the comforter. Her hand was resting on her stomach and her jumper had come up just a bit from her jeans, showing off a bit of skin he longed to touch.

"Hermione we've circled back to this for the hundredth time today, we both know what you have to do," he advised, his heart tightening at his words. He knew exactly what it was he had to do and had been avoiding it for a lot longer than she had.

"I know," she answered.

"So will you?" He asked, his throat squeezing out his words.

"I suppose..." She exhaled again, before sitting up and turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Yes, alright, I'll do it. Tonight, over dinner," Hermione resolved, biting down on her lower lip and shutting her eyes tightly as she did.

He glanced over at the clock and cocked an eyebrow. How has nearly an hour and a half passed and it feels like she just arrived? "You better head off then, it's almost seven," he informed her.

"Shit," she cursed, standing up quickly from the bed and gathering her purse from the dresser before slinging it over her chest. "I'll see you tomorrow," she offered as she ran out the bedroom door then out of his flat. The air seemed a bit heavier without her and he fixed his stare on the part of the mattress she'd been sitting on.

"Oh Hermione Jean Granger, what have you done to me?" He whispered to no one.

-H-

The summer heat was still far too much for her as she ran through the streets of London. It was nearing seven in the evening and yet the sun had barely begun to set. She ducked into an alley, knowing apparition would be the fastest way to get to Ron, but Severus had charmed his building to disallow the particular mode of transportation. When the witch was certain there were no muggles lurking about, she spun off and landed in her flat's living room.

"I'm home," she called, walking towards the kitchen where a rather grumpy looking ginger was sat at the bar. "How was your day?" Hermione asked breathlessly as she placed her purse on the counter and walked towards the fridge. When he didn't answer right away, she nervously filled the silence as she grabbed for a sandwich she'd made for her lunch that day but promptly forgotten before work. "I'm absolutely starving!" The witch spun around and he was standing right behind her, making her jump a bit at the proximity.

"I got sent home a bit early today, so I thought I'd pick you up from work," he started, his eyes trained on her and his entire form tensed. "Except, when I go to ask where your office is, they say you've already gone home, at five. So, I came home. Except," he emphasized, stepping forward a bit and making her yelp, dropping the meal in her hand. "You're not here. Two hours I've waited. Two. Hours. Where the fuck were you, Hermione?" He wasn't touching her, but most of her suspected that if he had been, she'd have been in pain.

"I-" she started but he interrupted her.

"Don't try to lie to me, 'mione. I'm not daft," he spat with his teeth clenched. "You're shagging some other bloke, aren't you? You slag." His eyes briefly travelled down her form, as if assessing her before he spun on his heel and marched back to the counter where he began tapping his fingers angrily. "You know, I work hard for us. I want us to be happy. I'm a bloody Auror for fuck's sake and all you do is push paper all day," he ranted, turning to face her once more but staying back. Hermione felt the prick of tears at her eyes and she pressed her back against the fridge, reaching for her wand as subtly as she could manage. "I come home, expecting to find a nice meal and my wife, but no. She's in the office all bloody day and into the night. I'm tired after work. I want someone to take care of me, and now I find out you're not even working until seven?" She clenched her jaw, his comment driving deep into her.

"Ronald Billius Weasley. You know very well I do more than push paper all day. I work hard, for the ministry, so that you can even have a job. So that you get paid. I make twice the salary you do and fine, I'm not running about chasing bad wizards all day, but I work hard and I also get tired," she ranted, stepping away from the appliance and pointing her finger at him. "If you think for one second that I am going to sit about at home and dote on you all bloody day, you married the wrong witch."

"Maybe I have," he commented, looking down at her over his nose. A sneer on his face rivalled that of their Potions professor and made her feel very, very small in that moment.

"Then perhaps we ought to get a divorce," she spoke before she even knew what was falling from her lips.

"Damn fucking straight," he spat. "And for your information, I've been shagging Pansy Parkinson for a full fucking year and you've never even noticed. So go back to your bloke, we're done here." The wizard spun around and stomped off towards the stairs. Her heart felt as if it had been ripped from her chest and torn into a million pieces. She was livid, furious, but also completely shattered. The man she had married was cheating on her for the past year and she hadn't noticed. She had no bloke to go back to. It was Severus bloody Snape and he was in hiding. This was her flat that Ron had moved into after they got married and he was telling her to leave?

"Jesus Christ," she cursed under her breath, a shuddering sob working its way through her body as she gripped the counter for support. She felt nauseous, all the trust she'd placed in her husband destroyed before her very eyes. How did I not know? How could I have gone this long without suspecting anything? Why is that only seeing Severus made me believe that my husband could be cheating on me? The questions spun through her mind as she collapsed onto the tile beneath her. Resting her forehead against the marble of the counter, the witch stared blankly across the room at the picture of the two of them laughing and dancing at their wedding.

It'd been a horrible affair, their wedding. Hermione was getting ready with Ginny, who had yet to recover from Harry's sudden disappearance. The charm she'd been using to work her hair into manageable ringlets wasn't working the flowers Luna had insisted she wear over her veil kept making her sneeze. The dress didn't fit quite right, though she'd managed to transfigure it to fit a bit snugger where it should, and her maid of honour was weeping nearly constantly.

"You don't have to do this, Ginny, I know you're still in pain," Hermione offered, looking at her friend over her shoulder as she gave up trying to tame her hair. The ginger girl straightened her back and flattened out the burgundy dress she donned before wiping away the tears at her eyes.

"No, you're my best friend and you're marrying my brother, I have to be here," the girl resolved. Hermione moved to protest but Ginny placed a finger over her friend's lips. "No buts, this is happening. I'll just glamour a smile on my face and the people can think my tears are over just how beautiful you look. And you do look..." the girl's voice trailed off as she examined Hermione's form. "Why didn't you let me help pick the dress again?" Ginny asked offhandedly.

"It was on sale, we don't have the funds for lavish parties and fancy dresses. This was supposed to be just a quick, small arrangement. Your family really goes all out for these sorts of things," Hermione commented, flattening out the front of her taffeta gown. It really was dreadful. It was big and sparkly and though it had sleeves like she wanted, it was nothing like the subtle beauty she'd been hoping for. But it was the only one available with sleeves on such short notice.

"Well, either way, you're beautiful. So let's get on with it," Ginny chirped, forcing Hermione to stand from her seat.

Hermione forced herself to stand this time, wobbling to her feet and mustering all the strength she could. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pictured the street, the building, and the trees. In an instant, she whirled away and landed with a pop in front of the towering complex. She didn't look to see if anyone had seen her, instead, she ran straight for the front door and slammed on the number 713 buzzer until the door clicked open and she could enter. She took the stairs, racing up to the seventh floor before stopping outside the door. The witch took barely a minute to catch her breath as she positioned her hand to knock on the man's door. Before she could, however, it swung open and revealed a very concerned wizard glowering down at her.

"What is so urgent, witch?" He asked in his normal, scathing tone. The tone of voice that sent a shiver down her spine as it had when she was a student in his class. She remembered staring at him and wondering what it was that had made him so dark and angry. She'd considered being the one to fix him, to bring light back into his life. Her heart had been crushed when he died, and even more so when she discovered that his one true love had been her best friend's mother all along. She'd settled for Ron, she knew that then and as she stood in front of the towering wizard, she was distinctly reminded of that fact.

"I was right," she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at him. He nodded once, moving out of the way and letting her in. Hesitating a moment, she stepped through before turning to face him and standing just a bit too close to him. The witch threw her arms around him and slammed her lips against his, pulling herself close to him. Panic set in quickly after, but it was calmed by his arms snaking around her waist and tugging her into him further. They broke apart and he looked into her eyes, a look of lust and worry mixed in his gaze.

"Oh how I longed for that," he breathed before kissing her once more.

I'm not sure where I want to go with this... I just saw that adorable gifset with her in the bathtub and him teasing her about valuing his solitude. Let me know if this is a story you'd want me to continue and if so- where should it go?