It was over. The war was over. Two weeks had passed. Voldemort was slain. Harry Potter had defeated him. It was over.

I stood in myempty disaster of a classroom. I had come back to the room that had been mine, the only place that had ever been me. The Potions Classroom. The room was a wreck. Essays and torn papers were all over the room. Cauldrons and desks were tipped over. Books were tossed all over the floor, half burned, half torn.

I looked around the room I had spent so many years in and my breath hitched in my chest. I walked slowly, careful of my many wounds, over to my desk, which was now slightly destroyed. I sat in the wooden chair behind it and leaned back slightly, resting my forearms on the desk.

I glanced down at my hands and then unbuttoned the sleeve of my left arm and pulled up the fabric. I gazed down at the pale, bare skin that had once been tainted by such a dark and gruesome mistake. It just looked like a burn scar now. The Dark Mark was gone. It had faded to a white scar after the fall of the Dark Lord.

My right fingertips grazed over the skin absentmindedly. I was brought out of his daze by a timid knock on his classroom door. The door opened slowly and a humbled and tired-looking Hermione Granger walked into his classroom.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and the dark circles under her eyes let me know that she was just as tired as I was. She had a cut across the bridge of her nose, a light bruise on her left jaw bone, and a cut on her across her left eyebrow. She approached him slowly and I watched her as she walked gingerly toward the front of my classroom.

She stopped a few steps short of me. My eyes raked over her quickly. She was a grown woman now. I had forced myself to view the Trio as the same eleven-year-old children they had been upon their arrival at Hogwarts. If they were still children, they could not possibly go to war. They could not possibly stare death in the face. She was a woman now, battle scarred and maturity to boot. As I stared at her, I realized that Potter was a man now, too. Ronald Weasley was as well. They were adults, War veterans and heroes. She breathed out heavily, pulling me from my thoughts.

"I am sorry, Professor," She breathed.

A million thoughts flooded my head. The first and foremost being the ones that I had forced myself to think and speak for almost two decades: the nasty remarks that would break her and send her away with her tail between her legs. As I looked at her slender form, I realized her tail was already very much between her legs.

"Don't,"I managed.

"I…" She could not find words, for once in her life, "Don't what, sir?"

"Apologize."

"How can I not apologize? We were all so wrong! I had trusted you from the very beginning. I had believed in you. I was wrong to change my allegiances at all! I stopped believing that you were on our side after Remus told us you were the one that cut off George's ear… I… I should have assumed your curse had missed. You were on a broomstick, I should have known!" She swatted a few tears away from her face and I stared at her, willing her to look at me. She did not look at me.

"You silly girl," I drawled, staring at her face, "You were meant to mistrust me."

"No! I was not! I knew in the Shrieking Shack that I had been so wrong! I knew and I felt so guilty. I had to do it. And I still feel so guilty…" Her voice trailed off.

"You saved me," I exhaled, the realization hitting me like a high-speed train.

She nodded once, her chin dropping to her chest and her body sagging. A tear dripped off the end of her nose. I feared she expected me to punish her, to ridicule for her bringing me back to this life. How I truly felt was very much the exact opposite.

"Dear Hermione," I whispered and pushed her chin up with two fingers, "You saved me," I hoped I had not forgotten how to inflect emotion into my words.

Her eyes went wide briefly, the amber colour boring into my eyes. She pulled her chin away from my fingers and moved away from me, toward the only window in my classroom. She crossed her arms over her stomach defensively. She was trying not to cry, the shakes and heavy breathing betraying her. She stared out the window. Her eyes shifted quickly over the war-torn grounds.

I moved up behind her and gazed out the window over her head. We stood comfortably for a few moments as Hermione tried to control herself.

"How long have you know?" She murmured softly.

"How long have I known what?" I whispered.

"How I feel," She exhaled a shaky breath.

"A while," I said easily.

"Meaning?" She looked at him over her shoulder.

"I have always known," I said.

"I don't believe that," She spit a chuckle out.

"Regardless," I said evenly.

"How?" She said. She seemed to be under the impression that she could hide such things from me from the time she was eleven.

"A young girl's crush is not easily hidden," I cocked my head to the side as she turned to face me.

"I'm sorry," She wiped another tear from her eye. She opened her mouth again, "But it's not a crush. It hasn't been a crush for a long time…"

"I know," I said, looking down at her carefully. This beautiful woman was in love with me. I had known it since her Fourth year. Who was I to deny my savior? Who was I to deny myself the life I had been given a second chance at? Who was I to deny the fact that Lily was dead and she was never coming back and she would never be mine? I was aware of all of this. Lily was dead. I was not in love with her. I loved her, yes, but I had received closure. I had done the best I could to atone for my mistakes. Hermione was the only thing I could see now.

"I am sorry," She cried again.

"What in the world are you apologizing?" I looked at her curiously, an eyebrow raised.

"I know it should be wrong. But it feels right. I can't help that I feel this way," She cast her eyes to the floor, ashamed.

I ran a single finger down her jaw lightly and then to her chin, pulling her eyes from the floor, "Don't apologize. I feel it, too."

She looked at me, searching for a lie. Waiting for me to change my mind, she kept looking at me. I leaned down and kissed her forehead lightly. I put my lips to hers lightly and briefly. A light exploded in my head and I pulled away and wrapped my arms around her small form and pulled her into my chest.

"I love you, Severus," She whispered into my chest.

"And I you, Hermione," I murmured into her hair, "And I love you, Hermione."