Leaving his Mark
by
Thunderspeak
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, created by J.K. Rowling.
AN: This story is a complete rewrite of one of my older stories. It will have 7 chapters plus an alternate ending, because I thought of two equally great endings. So enjoy! (and review...)
Part I
'The chicken is particularly good tonight,' Hermione thoughtfully chewed. It was seasoned with pepper and lemon and had potatoes on the side for counterbalance. As the days turned closer to the inevitable war, Hermione found herself paying more attention to the minuscule details of tastes and smells and words.
Words were much more than letters and spaces strewn together. The architecture of words was a lifestyle and an art, which made Professor Snape the Picasso of words.
Hermione was broken from her thoughts on food and bat-like professors when the alarms began to wail through Hogwarts. The students sprang from their tables and collected into a hysterical crowd in the Great Hall, their half-eaten chicken and potatoes abandoned on the tables. Except for Ron, who somehow managed to acquire an entire chicken.
Hermione tore away from her peers and began to run. Hesitation was not an option. Neither was fear.
'I have to find him!'
She crashed through the halls and rudely shoved people from her path. The students were too panicked to notice her in the chaos.
They rushed to the warm safety of their common rooms after hearing the dismaying announcement on endless repeat: They are coming. Death eaters are coming. Hermione nearly sobbed at their naivety.
The common rooms couldn't protect them. Hogwarts couldn't shield their young faces from the horrors of war. Not now.
Harry and Ron had stubbornly remained in the Great Hall with Dumbledore and the other professors (except one professor, who happened to be missing at the most inconvenient time) to wait for the Order's arrival.
They would plan a defense strategy with one understanding—Harry's safety was vital. However, Harry was too brave (and rash), and wanted to immediately fight Voldemort. His vote was unpopular with just about everyone.
Her friends had their mission and she had hers. Hermione searched the halls for the rustle of his black robes or the sight of his large nose. The Order needed him—and, she admitted, I need him too.
Growing tired, she paused and peered through a row of tall windows. They all faced the great lake and the forbidden forest, and it was a bleak sight. It was about four in the afternoon but the sky was black and the dark mark, glowing green, loomed high above the forest. Hermione shivered at the eerie sight.
She turned away and ventured further down the hall, her wand tightly clutched in her hand. However, before she could walk more than a few steps she detected a dark shadow propped against a window.
Hermione suspected it was a person and as she moved closer to inspect her mysterious finding, she inhaled sharply.
It wasn't just a person—it was the person she was looking for. Professor Snape, looking impossibly paler, rested against the window as he gazed upon the Hogwarts grounds with a grim frown.
Her worries seemed to disappear as she strode towards him. Severus could make her feel like melted butter, but he could also make her feel like hippogriff shit—like this morning, when she woke up to cold sheets and a note with two words: Forgive me. It was like him to be succinct.
Hermione wasn't certain about what he sought redemption for, but remembering what occurred between them the night before (quite vividly in fact), she had a good idea. And she hated it. On the very brink of war and death, Hermione no longer resisted her budding feelings for her former professor. If she were to seize any day, it would be of the very few she had left.
Unfortunately for her, Severus clung to his ethics with an iron grip. She didn't blame him. As he walked the narrow path of a Death Eater in disguise, his morals were his safety net. If they were ever forgotten… he was lost forever.
Hermione moved forwards and stood beside him.
"It looks awful, doesn't it?" she murmured.
Severus kept silent, staring at her with carefully blank eyes. His stoicism was a useful skill that he had acquired during his many years as a spy. It had saved his life many times, but Hermione happened to hate it. She hated his mask of stone.
Hermione pulled him close and fiercely whispered, "Don't you ever leave me like that again."
"Why?"
He sounded dead.
'Well, he might be dead in a few hours,' her traitorous mind whispered.
Hermione kissed him. It was filled with desperation and anger and it wasn't a kiss for romantic fools. She wanted him to respond—she would force him to be with her, if only for these few minutes. She wanted Severus, not this stone statue that stared at her with bored, blank eyes.
He was frozen, his lips unmoving.
Hermione impatiently growled against his mouth, thinking, 'We have so little time!'
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him upon his cheek, his forehead, his nose, and his other cheek. Hermione was sobbing without tears and slowly, he wrapped his arms around her. She noticed that his chest was shuddering—from fear, from sadness, or from something else entirely—she didn't know.
Hermione memorized the drumming of his heartbeat against her ear and the dark scent that lingered on his skin, suspiciously reminiscent of pine and wood.
It was wonderful. Finally, he was allowing her to slither beneath his battered armor that had shielded him for so long.
"Severus I…" Hermione paused, unsure of what else to say. But no words were needed because the slytherin understood her frequent tangles of emotions as well as he understood his own.
They stood in silence, holding onto each other at the brink of battle. They knew the possibilities—of loss, death and torture, all of them inevitabilities. They held onto the short and valuable moment, knowing it could quite possibly be their last.
Neither of them noticed the large, green eyes peering at them from around the corner.
AN: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! It was a pleasure to write. Please review :)
-thunderspeak