I survived. That's all. No sappy story about how I was rescued in my final hour. It's plain and simple. I was smart and cunning and built a tolerance to Nagini's venom. The pedantic bastard had many symbolic deaths in his arsenal and I was well equipped for all sans the killing curse. Avada is the only method I wouldn't dare survive; no one would throw down their life for me. Not yet anyhow.
My first recollection was of the room itself, white as snow and just as cold. She must have sensed my stirring, because at once she was by my side, a little haggard and worse for wear but a welcome sight none-the-less. Her hair a mess atop her head, tendrils of the mousey-brown falling into her face…her worried, frantic face.
"Professor? Can you hear me?" She was calm but constant worry had tinted her skin.
I tried to speak but my mouth felt full of cotton and my lips were brittle and cracked. I managed a small nod, just enough to cause a painful tremor throughout my body—fucking snakes.
"Please, sir, don't move." She retrieved a glass of water from a side table and held it to my mouth, ushering in new life.
"I'm sure you're quite anxious about your surroundings. We've won the battle." As my eyes rolled she continued nonplussed, "Obviously, right? You've been out for 394 days." She laughed a tiny, barely-there laugh, "Rather fitting, isn't it? 394? Don't you remember?" Of course I remember the silly swot. "Of course you do. It's been a rather tumultuous year since you've been gone. You've missed quite a bit, but I'll spare you the trivial details. You've been pardoned, full Order of Merlin. You've Harry to thank for that."
As she continued to drivel on, my eyes began to weaken; her voice pulled me under the depths. Where had she learned this magic? Surely she was a siren sent to drag me to the underworld to serve my punishment. I would go willingly, too, if only it meant she would wrap me in her honey-words. Now look at me, I've gone and made an arse of myself. Who am I to be speaking in such romantic terms? No one, that's who, not yet anyhow.
When I woke again I was absolutely positive that I was not dead. Hell would not be this kind.
She was singing an old but simple song, I'm sure I've heard it before. It wasn't her song that overtook me, oh no. Her song was the least of my concerns as her fingers threaded through my hair, kneading into my scalp, the soft scent of patchouli wafting to my nose.
"Wher…" It still hurt to speak.
"Quit, you buffoon. Your throat is still weak. Give me a moment to finish up your hair and I'll get you some water. You have such lovely hair when washed and kept from potions and your appalling use of cleansing charms." I scoff at such cheek from the know-it-all. Who was she to give me hair advice? "I know, I know, who am I to talk?" Pure coincidence. "You've missed a lot, sir. We've missed you, Minerva especially. The old coot has been by once a week and thrice during holidays. She makes me give her reports. Like a bloody first year forever whining about your health. The hell am I here for? To wash your bum and dress you like a ninny? Well I'll have you know…"
I'm not sure if I enjoy her chatter or if I'm just willing to sell my soul to have her hands in my hair, either way I don't exactly want to kill myself. It's a welcome sound, her voice. I wouldn't enjoy the silence if she quit talking. And I would tell her that, too…maybe, not yet anyhow.
"Do you ever leave here?" I asked in her general direction. At some point, she had kicked her socked feet onto my bed and reclined deep into her chair. She had the morning edition of the Quibbler in her hands. She spoke through it, "Sure, when you sleep I go home. I'm here more since you woke but I do spend my time at home."
"Do you work?" I asked, to ease the silence and because I liked speaking to her.
She huffed a bit and peered over the paper, "Of course…when nosey bats aren't interrupting my work." My raised brown bade her to continue, "I'm a columnist for the Prophet. I write on a plethora of different things, mainly current events and newest discoveries. It makes it easy for me to spend my time here," her eyes met mine, "watching over you." With a pop of the paper, she continued on her research.
"Watching over me," I grumbled, I would be sure she hadn't heard me had it not been for the snort that carried from behind the rag.
"I'm not a child, Hermione. I'm perfectly capable of walking to the loo unassisted. Surely you didn't think I would be an invalid the remainder of my days and need your helping hands. Surely, you are smarter than that. " Her eyes were a maelstrom of anger and hurt but I stood my ground.
"Of course, I didn't think as much Severus. I was well aware that you would one day be able to perform daily functions, you unbearable prick! I just…I just wanted to help you but I can see my assistance is no longer necessary." Well fuck this fuckery, I'd gone and made her mad…again.
"Hermione, I'm…" I start my apology, but quit half way through. I realised I didn't want to apologise, not really, I wanted to kiss her. And more than that I wanted to hug her and take away my spiteful words.
"What, Severus? What are you? Sorry that you can't accept my help? Angry that you need it in the first place? What, Severus? Please, what?"
"…falling in love with you." Shite. "Wait, that's…" Well damn it all to Hades I'd done it, been truthful and honest and just buggered my whole plan at being alone all my life. Just watch, it'll be all over the Prophet tomorrow: Old Bat Falls for Beautiful, Young Student.
Then she laughed but it wasn't malice. It wasn't vengeful or spiting in anyway. "I know that, you big dote. Why do you think I've stuck around all this time?" She came to stand in front of me and reached her small hands to my shoulders, gently pulling me down. Her lips met mine which were still a bit chapped from months of ill-use. It was simple and sweet and just so god-damned romantic. "Go and pee, Severus."
As I tottled to the loo, I realised this was the first time in my life I'd ever allowed myself to forfeit control. She fed me, gave me drink, bathed my hair and my body, she read me the newspaper and the occasional sonnet. She was my healing spring. It was a lie though I wasn't falling in love with her I'd already reached the deepest part of the feeling, the root of the root.
On my fourth week post-coma, I was awake before she entered my room. It was dark. And cold. And my linens were scratchy. And there was nothing to read. And, and I was lonely. Just as I began my brooding, she entered, "Where've you been?"
"Why? D'ya miss me?" Her smile was enough to make me blush, if I ever blushed, that is.
She came to join me on the bed, one leg crossing over the other. Her sigh told me the news wasn't good, "They're releasing you. Did you know?"
My heart sank like the Titanic; I could almost feel it in my toes. "No. I didn't, when?"
"Tomorrow, first thing in the morning. They say you're perfectly well now. Your vitals are normal and all the like. I've only just found out, I'm very happy for you." Her sad smile showed she at least thought she meant it.
"Hmm, I guess good things end right?"
"They, well only, well, they don't have to, do they?" The hope in her eyes as she spoke warmed my blood. My heart began its ascent back through my legs and up to my stomach, not quite settling in my chest yet.
"No, they don't," I answered as I took her hand in mine weaving our fingers together, "this doesn't have to end if you don't want it to." Her pulse quickened.
It was such an odd place to be discussing our future. I was offering this girl, this young impressionable girl who'd only just made it through puberty, a future. And damn it all to hell I wanted a future with her. I wanted it more than anything.
"Of course, it doesn't! Of course it doesn't have to end. You said you were falling in love with me, before. Well, Severus, I've fallen, so far that I've no hope of ascension." And that's when it happened, my heart settled fully and permanently in my chest.
"Why, though, why would you ever fall for me?" I couldn't help but feel inadequate, unworthy. She was beautiful, far more so than I deserved, more so than any ever deemed plausible for me. I never knew it before. I never would have guessed. I never would have thought she would be the one I yearned for but there she was, right in front of me, right there.
As she looked into my eyes, she softly began to quote,
"I love you, because in my thousand and one nights of dreams,
I never once dreamed of you
I looked down paths that traveled from afar,
but it was never you I expected.
Suddenly I've felt you flying through my soul
in quick, lofty flight,
and how beautiful you seem way up there, far
from my always idiot heart!
Love me that way, flying over everything.
And, like the bird on its branches, land in my arms
only to rest,
then fly off again.
Be not like the romantic ones who, in love, set me on fire.
When you climb up my mansion,
enter so lightly, that as you enter
the dog of my heart will not bark."*
AN: So this story was inspired by the poem at the end titled: *"Love without Love" by Luis Llorens Torres. Many American students have to read the poem for Literature courses in high school. It's been one of my favorite for YEARS!
I think the poem works really well for Hermione and Severus. It's as if one day she wakes up and he's all in her face like, "Sup, I've been here the whole time and you just never knew it," and she's all like, "Fuck, you're so right!"
Well, review if you wish, I'd love to hear your thoughts.