He reached out and picked up his glass of firewhiskey. He swooshed the golden liquid around watching it catch the light from the glow of the fire. He brought it to his lips, and downed it in one gulp. He grimaced at the burn in his throat and returned his focus to the mountain of parchments he had yet to finish grading. He rubbed his eyes with his the fingers of his left hand as he reached out and grabbed the first assignment on the stack. He blinked as he refocused his vision. He hated grading assignments, every one of his students were dunderheads. His vision returned to normal as he noticed the name on the parchment. He smirked; they were all dunderheads except for her. She always did more than what he requested, if it were any other student he would have taken points, or lowered the score by a full grade. He sighed, he knew he would have to say something to her tomorrow, he knew she would look up at him with her large cinnamon eyes, he knew that look well. The look of hurt. He did not want to hurt her, but his hand was forced. He had to remain in character, or none of them would respect him.
They would all be leaving in less than one months' time. He scanned her parchment, as he thought back over the years. When had they grown up? When had she grown up? She was far from the bushy haired, buck toothed little girl that was eagerly waving her hand in class the first day. He smiled at the memory. He thought back to earlier that day, in the library. He had gone into return some books he had been using for research, and he spotted her. She was lounging in a large chair. She had discarded her school robes, and had her legs thrown over the arm of the chair. Her hair pulled up, and a quill was stuck in the heap of curls. He watched as she turned the page, clearly engrossed in her reading. Some things never change, except she was showing more leg than she should have been. He pulled himself out of the memory and sat up. When on earth did this start? He poured himself another glass of firewhiskey, and gave her paper a perfect score and quickly moved onto the next student's assignment.
He was standing at the front of the class as the students poured in. He had forced himself not think about what had happened the night before, he attributed it to too much firewhiskey and left it at that. He had his back to the students, as he was neatly writing himself a reminder for supplies he needed. He turned around quickly, he still demanded attention. What he was unprepared for was coming face to face with those large cinnamon eyes. He held her stare; she was standing there smiling at him. She didn't speak, but simply held up a small black box. He reluctantly took the box from her, and she turned and made her way back to her seat. None of the other students seemed to notice or care that she had just handed him something.
Class went by in a blur, and before he knew it they were rushing out of his classroom. She was the last to leave, her friends lingered by the door waiting for her. She was always the last to leave. Finally, he was alone and his attention was drawn to the small black box on his desk. He rolled his eyes and picked it up. He attempted to open it, but it wouldn't give. He tried numerous spells and still it would not open. He sat down and looked at the box. A message like smoke began to write itself on the side. He squinted as the letters formed words. 'I open when the truth is spoken'. He furrowed his brow, and decided to contemplate the message before attempting again.
He spoke to that box for hours every night. Each night was as much a failure as the night before. He was so engrossed with trying to open the box he hadn't realized that graduation day had come. He woke up late, and missed the ceremony. The seventh years were lingering in the great hall talking before heading off to meet the train. He dressed as quickly as he could, he had to find her, and he had to ask her what truth needed to be spoken in order to open the box. He billowed out of the dungeon and made his way to the great hall. He pushed through the large wooden doors, to find the great hall was deserted. He turned and made his way outside, but the recent graduates were already gone. He may never know what the box held. He made his way back to his rooms, slamming the door behind him.
He stormed over to the small table on which the box sat atop, and grabbed it forcefully. He glared at the box, and commanded it to open. It did not oblige him. He heard a house elf come in.
"Can I help you sir?" it was Winky. He sighed.
"Unless you can tell me how to open this confounded box then no, I am not in need of your services at the present time." Winky looked at the box and then up at him.
"Young Miss gave that to you, she waited sir, in the great hall, until she had to leave. Winky saw her sir. She looked sad, sir, she did." Winky rung her hands, and he arched his eyebrow at what she said.
"She waited you say?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. She waited for a long time, Winky thinks that miss was looking for you all day. Winky heard her telling the Miss with hair like fire." Winky nodded. "The miss with hair like fire told her that miss must have been wrong about the truth, and that if sir had not opened it by now then miss should just give up."
"Did you hear anything else Winky?" Winky shook her head; he turned around and looked into his fire. "Leave me now, Winky."
He sat down again, holding the box. He decided to try one last idea and spoke to the box as if he was speaking to her. He told the box he was sorry for being mean her, it didn't open. He told the box he was glad she was his student, it didn't open. He told the box that she was the only reason that made him keep teaching, it didn't open. He sighed, and finally confided in the box his thoughts on how much she changed over the years, how brilliant she was and how beautiful she had become, it still didn't open. Finally he said the last thing on his mind, something he hadn't wanted to think about let alone say.
"Hermione, I'll miss you and not just because you were by far my favorite student but because I have come to love you." He sat the box down, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he looked back at the box and it was open. He sat up quickly and grabbed it. He reached in and pulled out a small parchment. He read it eagerly.
'If you are reading this, you have spoken a truth, and in return I shall tell you a truth. I love you Severus. But now a question remains, if there is love here, what shall you do now that you know I return your feelings?"
He read the words over and over, allowing the magnitude of what she wrote to sink in. What should he do now? Would it be better for her to think he never was able to open the box? He stood and began to pace, clutching her note in his hand. He stopped and picked up the box, which suddenly felt very heavy. He looked in once more and found a small vial of her memories, and a key. He turned the key over in his palm, and grasped the vial. He had to see her memories; he left his rooms and made his way to the headmasters' office.
He knocked at the door and heard Albus beckon him to enter.
"Ah, Severus my boy! Are you feeling well?" He stood and came around his desk towards him.
"I am not ill headmaster, I am in need of your pensive however." He clutched the vial firmly. Albus nodded slowly.
"Miss Granger?" He peered over top his spectacles at Severus. Severus raised his eyebrow. "Ah you must be wondering how I know. When one reaches my age, one tends to see things others look over. She was scanning the doors all day. I have known of her feelings for some time, and if I am honest I am quite impressed that she managed to hide it from you. You are after all an excellent observer."
"If you knew, why did you not tell me?" Severus took a step towards Albus.
"It was not for me to tell." He stood up and walked around his desk and back to his chair. "and it was hardly appropriate for me to tell you while she was a student here, even though she was of age." Severus let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "You know where the pensive is, please by all means…"he motioned in the direction of the pensive. Severus walked over and poured in her memories. He gazed in watching the memories disperse. He took a deep breath and went in.
She was showing him memories from her first year, he watched her set fire to his robe during the Quidditch match. Next she was stealing from his personal stores. He saw her waking up after being petrified and looking at him. He saw her in her gown at the ball, she was on Viktor's arm, but he saw her look for him when they entered the great hall. He remembered that, and how she smiled at him when she met his gaze. She was showing him an Order meeting at Grimmauld place, where she was watching him read. She was arguing with Harry and Ron, she was defending him. She was sitting in his class working on a potion, he saw his memory self walk behind her and peer over her shoulder and into her cauldron, he stepped closer and watched her. Her cheeks were flushing as his memory self spoke to her. He saw her lounging in the library, the same memory he had lingered on that night he was grading her assignment. His memory self turned to walk away and he watched her look up at where he was standing, and she watched him walk away and she smiled. He saw her talking to Ginny, she was telling her that she was in love with him, and Ginny was shocked. She was crying because she didn't know what to do. Finally, she showed him a loft, he wasn't sure where this loft was or who owned it. That was the end of the memories.
"Well?" Albus spoke. Severus stood there trying to get his bearings. "Ah, I take it she showed you some things you were previously unaware of?" Severus smirked.
"She is the one who set my robes on fire."Severus couldn't help but smile, of course it was her, she was brilliant. Albus laughed. "I don't understand the last part though, she showed me some loft, I have never seen it before." Albus nodded.
"Her loft Severus, her loft. She is moving into her own place tomorrow." Severus looked down at the key in his hand.
"I believe she left me a key to her loft headmaster." He showed Albus the key.
"Indeed it does seem that way Severus." Severus turned to walk out of the office but stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Headmaster?"
"You will be taking some time then Severus?"
"Yes." Albus nodded and laughed, and Severus made his way back to his rooms to prepare for a trip to London.
His heart raced as he made his way to the apparition point. What would he say? Before he could contemplate on the matter any further there was a loud crack and he was gone. He appeared outside a very nice building. He looked up and down the street, he was alone. He walked in and looked at the mail boxes; he found her name she was in Loft 22. He had to stop himself from running up the stairs, he settled for his normal terrifying stride. He turned down the hall, and looked at the numbers on the doors; he stopped when he reached number 22. He took a deep breath and knocked. He stood for a few minutes, before he heard footsteps coming towards the door; he tried to calm his breathing as he heard the lock being turned. The door opened slowly. There in the soft light pouring in from the hall was Hermione, in her pajamas. She froze as she looked at him. He didn't know what to say. She smiled and took his hand and led him into her loft and shut the door behind them.
"Severus, you could have used your key, that's why I left it." She was whispering. He didn't know how to respond. She took a step closer to him, and standing on her tiptoes she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you." She kissed him; he wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer to him and he returned the kiss.