A/N 1: My native language is not English. Please don't eat me, if there should be some mistakes. This is my first attempt to write something in English. Suggestions, how I could improve my style or telling me where I made a big grammar mistake would be appreciated. And if you just wish to tell me that you liked or disliked it, feel free to do so.
A/N 2: This story bases upon Avril Lavigne's song "I'm with you".
DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me. Everything belongs to the rightful owners.
I'm with you
Here he was. Standing on a bridge in London. He didn't know how he got there; all he knew was that he was running away from the things he couldn't avoid. Although he tried to, at the same time he knew he couldn't. The things he had to face now were far too big, as to possibly avoid them. From the beginning he knew it would take too much luck to get the result he was wishing, nearly craving for to get.
So now he was standing on this damned bridge and thinking of ways to take back what he had said earlier. He also knew that he was behaving like a coward. Though he would never admit that to anyone, he had to admit this to himself.
In the last quarter hour it had started raining and it was rapidly getting colder. It was late. But was it too late?
He remembered once more what he had done. It was foolish of him to believe that this was the best thing to solve the problem. His problem. He thought about it. Was it really a problem for him?
He made the decision that it was definitely not a problem for him. He was just afraid of the consequences. And afraid he was. His fear was the reason he was standing on this bridge, wishing he would never have said a word.
But he couldn't change it anymore. It had happened. And now he had to wait for what the future would bring.
The rain was constantly getting stronger. As if to fit his mood. It was ironic.
He let out a heavy sigh. It was a hopeless situation in which he had maneuvered himself in.
On one hand he was hoping for a good ending, maybe that he was dreaming it all and would wake up soon. But on the other hand he only knew too well that this was not a dream at all. It was feeling too real, too painful.
But what on earth had gotten into him that he had said those words aloud.
He only remembered that he was looking for some books at the library of Grimmauld Place, when the door had opened and she had entered the room.
He had stared at her and she had stared back. Then she had looked away, had crossed the room and had positioned herself directly in front of him. He had backed away immediately, had turned around and had been halfway on his way to the door, when he had heard her voice.
"Why are you constantly avoiding me?"
"I'm not avoiding you." He had known it was a lie. And so had she.
"You say, you're not avoiding me? What the hell is it then?" She had looked him directly into the eyes.
She had expected an answer. He had been trapped. He had not been able to lie nor had been telling her the truth an option.
He had played at time then. His brain had been working on an appropriate explanation of his behavior, whilst he was backing off of her again and as he reached the door and his brain hadn't worked out a decent explanation, he decided that it would be better if he would just tell her the truth. At least it would be out. And all she could possibly do was to laugh at him or slap him across the face. It had been both options which would've been very embarrassing for him.
So he had been standing in the library, the door in his back and her approaching him again.
"You want to know the truth? Fine. Here it is." He had summoned all his strength. "I'm in love with you. That's what it is. Nothing more, nothing less."
He had looked at her face, but her expression had been unreadable, even for him. He had been confused and frightened. Then he had turned around and had fled. It had become all too much for him to bear. He couldn't take it any longer.
Once he had been out of the house, he had been walking around the streets of London without a particular destination. He'd come to this bridge and had decided that he had to take a break from running away.
In fact he couldn't run away, even if he would want to. He had to stay. At least to complete his mission. Mission. Was it really a mission?
No. It was more like a lifelong commitment he had made. To destroy The Dark Lord had the highest priority. There was nothing which he could allow to distract him. He had to have a clear mind, clear thoughts. Feelings were nothing he could accept. But, however, he had allowed these feelings to haunt him over the time. It was really a marvel that The Dark Lord hadn't found out about these feelings by now.
And now he couldn't just go back to Grimmauld Place as if nothing had happened. She would be there and she'd know what he had said. By now she had most likely told her friends about it. If she had, and that was very likely, he would be a laugh inside the order.
But he had said it. And it wasn't that he had had an alternative choice. Sooner or later he had to tell her anyway. Now it was sooner. Like they always say, the sooner, the better.
Anyway, he had no hope that she could ever feel the same for him. He was just the ugly, grumpy potions master from the dungeons. No one liked him, especially not Gryffindors. And she was one. And she was a friend of Harry Potter and common knowledge said that he'd hate Potter and his friends. In fact, he didn't really hate Potter, it was just that his past was haunting him, he couldn't escape it. Potter looked too much like his father.
He looked down at the Thames under him and tried too figure out, why he had these feelings for her. He couldn't explain, why this had happened or when. He just knew the fact that he was totally in love with her. He would give his live to save hers. But now it didn't matter anymore.
There was just he, his feeling and the river beneath him. He wished that someone would come and tell him that everything was alright and he could come back as if nothing had happened.
The silence, which was normally a friend of his, was now killing him. If there were some people on the street or other things, which would make some noise. Something which would kill the silence around him.
He was giving in to his imagination of her coming to him, taking him by the hand and leading him somewhere.
As a matter of fact, he had no hopes that this would ever happen. He was desperate, because always when he had believed that he had found love, it ended in a tragedy, mostly for him. Not that it was his fault that his first love was murdered. And now he had fallen in love again and he had to fear that she had to die, too.
A lonely tear left his eye. A hand reached up from behind and stopped his tear from falling. He turned around and there she was. She smiled up at him.
"You're not real."
"What let you think I'm not real?"
"Because you would never come to me in a night like this. Especially not after everything I've said and done."
She gently touched his face and traced his chin line. "I'm as real as you are. And I would always come to you."
"Why?" He was in a state of disbelief and shock.
"I'm in love with you. That's what it is. Nothing more, nothing less."
All he could do was shake his head and put on an ear-to-ear smile. He couldn't believe his luck.
She put his hand into hers and whispered in his ear: "I'm with you. And I will be forever and always. Because you're the reason I'm happy at times where no one can be happy. I love you, Severus Snape."
"And I'm with you. Wherever you will go, I'll be there. Whatever you will do, I'll be with you. Because I love you, too, Hermione Granger." He whispered back.
And the rain stopped, as they walked hand in hand back to Grimmauld Place and into a future, which they would face together.