A/N: This is a story that I've had around for a while, and it could use a good deal of development. Please bear with me as I work out the kinks. It's been a long while since I wrote my last HP fic.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, however the plot of this story is solely my own.
He smelt of the dark musk of old books and of sweat – the scents of long nights spent pouring over potions journals and glowering over uncooperative potions as if they were the students he had learned tolerate. His fingers, like hers, were stained with the ink of academia, though for mildly different reasons. She inhaled deeply and entwined her fingers into his coarse chest hair, praying to her gods that he wouldn't wake, not yet. She needed more time to appreciate his form and how it melded perfectly into hers. A few more hours and she would have to leave. It would not do for a student to find her missing from her bed, or, in the middle of a late-night jaunt to the kitchen, to see her returning to Gryffindor Tower looking too impossibly disheveled to have come from the library.
Hermione sighed and rose from her lover's arms. She lingered a moment, but only long enough to take in his dark outline amid the candlelight and smile softly. She left his quarters, taking special care to prevent the door from creaking and to replace the spells which protected him from prying eyes and ears. Hermione stole silently into the night, returning to her bed without seeing a soul. She was pleased at the strength of her Vanishing spell.
The fire in Hermione's private room had died down in her absence, but it had been prevented from being completely extinguished by the Hogwarts house elves. Though Hermione was not completely pleased with their living and working conditions, she accepted that the house elves were themselves pleased. In the end, Hermione made due with being exceptionally nice to the house elves, sharing her food with them and making sure to inquire as to how their days have been. They tolerated her, pleased that a witch had taken an interest, but annoyed that she insisted on interfering with their pleasures.
In this instance, Hermione was glad for the presence of the house elves, and she silently praised them as she changed into her nightdress and plaited her unruly curls. Tonight, as every night, she would dream of Severus, and in the morning she would see him in the Great Hall, though his appearance would not be what she preferred.
Severus awoke to find his bed empty. It was not a new sensation but one he had grown used to as a child and had continued into adulthood. Her scent lingered on the pillow: sunshine and the womanly intoxicant that arose once her lotion had been sweated through. As he did every morning, Severus wondered if the previous night had been a dream, one brought on by years of celibacy and the desire for the smooth, unfamiliar skin of a female.
He had once thought himself unable to love. After Lily Potter nee Evans, Severus had resigned himself to a life spent in the dark places of the world. The absence of her acceptance and love had left him empty long ago, but now each day seemed brighter than the last despite the danger that had slowly infiltrated the world around them all.
Severus considered Hermione to be the only source of light in his life, and he found himself clinging to her as his world faithfully fell apart. Their relationship had begun rather innocently: the Golden Trio was serving detention for returning the hexes of a group of sixth year Slytherins. The headmaster and his deputy had seen it fit to allow Hermione to serve her detention with Professor Snape, rather than with Hagrid or Filch and Mrs. Norris. Hermione had helped brew to restock the Hospital wing. However, their relationship soon shifted from teacher and student to master and apprentice. She found his ongoing research enthralling and often caused Severus to think in a manner that he had never thought possible. They enjoyed one another and delighted in their combined presence.
Severus had noticed the favor bestowed upon the female Gryffindor at the beginning of the term, when they had deemed it necessary to give the girl a private room rather than placing her in the Gryffindor dormitories with her classmates, despite Hermione's refusal of the position of Head Girl during the previous summer. However, she preferred a private room, and Hermione's request for her own quarters had been encouraged by Professor McGonagall and honored by Headmaster Dumbledore. She would be doing work of some great import this term, Dumbledore had told Severus, and she would be needing great privacy. Of course, Severus knew that the young woman was only aware of the increased space for her books and the array of books that her professors had provided for her. She knew nothing of Dumbledore or the Order's plans. And Severus would do his best to protect her from the will of those who had manipulated him for so long.
"Damn that man for bringing her even further into this war!" Severus said. "She is much too innocent for this." Yet he knew that the Gryffindor had the heart of a lion. She would surprise them all, he knew, including himself. He thought highly of her but did feel for those who underestimated her power and brilliance. Severus referred specifically to her friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley: the two wizards he felt were holding Hermione back. He knew that the witch enjoyed revising with them and going over concepts that she had grasped years before, but Severus could not help but think that he was more worthy of her friendship and company than either of the boys she spent her time with.
Severus shook himself from his thoughts, and Severus prepared himself for the day, taking the utmost care to button each button of his frock coat, before making his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He hated the chatter that greeted him as he stalked through the doors, yet secretly reveled in the sound of her laughter. It seemed to ring brilliantly above the din of the children.
He sat between the headmaster and his deputy, scowling, yet the emotion did not reach his eyes. Very few would recognize what he was saying with them, what he felt the need to scream on a daily basis. Hermione, his lover and his friend, would feel loved for the rest of her life. Even if Severus did not see the end of the war, he would see her needs attended to. For the first time in decades, Severus felt a reason to live.
Hermione knew immediately when Severus entered the Great Hall, and their eyes locked without a moment of searching. She blushed and smiled before turning back to her friends, while Severus continued to scowl, nonplussed. The headmaster watched the brief exchange with twinkling eyes. How exquisite, he thought, that two minds should find each other in these troubled times. Yet how unfortunate that one of them must die.