Before Dawn
Author: Mary
Summary: He pretends not to care that she's using him.
She'll come to him tonight, he knows. He doesn't need her to warn him of her presence. He can almost feel her approach, long before the soft, single knock on his door announces her arrival. He opens the door, and turns away without looking at her. She follows after, closing the door quietly and undoing the clasp on her cloak. The garment is carefully draped over a chair, and she crosses the room to kiss him without preamble.
It's been a week since she last came to him. He knew she wouldn't stay away long; she never does. Oh, he knows she'll try, of course. He knows she'll lock herself in her room, chewing her lip and pretending she doesn't need it, but in the end she'll give in. She always gives in.
Their encounters have been the same since the first time. No change, no variation, nothing to make either of them expect more than what exists. She comes to him, and what follows after is a single kiss, a moan, and frantic, fumbling hands over clothes and skin, the air between them vibrant and intoxicating in its intensity.
She always leaves before dawn. It ends with a sigh, a rustle of fabric, and the sound of the door closing as he keeps his eyes closed. He never actually sees her leave. Somehow, he can't bear to watch it.
It was first born of more than simple need. Born of the stress of war and loss weighing heavily on both of them as they sat alone in headquarters. A chance meeting in the library, questions of well-being transforming into a desperate need for the feel of skin on skin. She started it, he remembers, all action without words. He did nothing to stop her silent pleas to make her forget, to make her feel something other than pain for one all too brief moment. He did nothing to stop her because he needed it as well.
He knows why it started. And though he likes to pretend he doesn't, he knows why it continued.
The war is long over. The side of good won, but he often wonders if the victory came at too high a cost. Far too many dead, even more left broken with the memories of horrors too many to handle. She comes to him because she's one of the broken, and only he can make her feel whole for that moment.
She doesn't say as much, but he knows it to be true. She needs a warm body to ease a little of the loneliness she feels from losing so many. That she hasn't said it doesn't surprise him. They haven't spoken to each other in more months than he can count. They're not friends, not lovers, and he supposes it leaves them in a place where polite exchanges, explanations and declarations aren't wanted.
He's not known for being a speaker, but he can't help that the silence in their encounters unnerves him the smallest bit.
She only kisses him once, just after she arrives, and never more than that. Perhaps it's because kissing feels much more personal than anything else they do. She never looks at him, either. Her empty eyes focus on the ceiling, on the wall behind him, on the sheets, anywhere but him. He pretends not to notice it.
He pretends more often than not in her presence. He pretends not to see it when the name of someone she knew before silently forms on her lips. He pretends not to feel the tear streaking down her cheek as he licks a path next to it. He pretends to be ignorant of the disgust she feels with herself for doing this.
He pretends not to care that she's using him.
He's tried more than once to end all of this, to break the destructive pattern they've set for themselves. He never can stop her assault on him long enough to tell her what he thinks of their arrangement. He's not entirely sure he wants to stop.
She's slipping on her clothes while he lies on the bed with his eyes closed. On an impulse, he does something he's never done before, and utters her name.
"Hermione."
If there had been any noise in the room, save their breathing, it wouldn't have been heard. As it is, the word is almost lost in the heaviness of the silent room. And for the first time since this started, all those many days ago, she looks at him. She doesn't say anything, meeting his now-open eyes. Her brown eyes are still empty, but they hold the faintest spark of curiosity.
"This isn't right." He doesn't mean to say them, but perhaps they wouldn't stay unsaid forever. The words aren't spoken any louder than her name, but she hears them, nods, and glances at the floor.
"I know."
He sits up to look at the woman in front of him. Her curly hair is mussed, her lips swollen, and a welt is rising on her shoulder. He realizes that he's never taken the time to look at her afterwards. She looks beautiful. "We shouldn't continue like this."
"I know."
Neither of them move for what feels like eternity. Then she's pulling off the cloak, and removing her clothes. He watches in surprise as she slides into the bed next to him, pulling him down to lie next to her, face to face.
Maybe it's because the old reasons no longer hold water. Maybe it's because change is inevitable. Maybe it's because they've finally admitted it out loud. But when their lips meet again, something is different, and he realizes with a start that, for all their past encounters, this can't be called anything but the first time they've been together.
"Severus..."
She whispers his name, arching into him in a way she's never done before, and he relishes the sound. He logically knows there remains the chance that she'll leave without returning before dawn breaks, that whatever is different makes this new encounter a goodbye. But she locks eyes with him as they mold themselves around each other, and he's lost to sensation, hoping she'll never leave again.
And when he wakes in the morning to find her beside him, murmuring something quietly and pulling him closer, he allows himself a smile. Early morning light filters in from the high window, specks of dust dancing in the pale sunlight. Outside dawns a new day.
And in this room dawns a new life.
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A/N: I promise it started out as pure angst! I had a whole 'nother ending to this, but Severus decided to take matters into his own hands. I may put the alternate up on my own site at some point in the future... provided Hermione doesn't keep me from finishing it, too. I realized after writing this that it came out a lot like "A Shell Dirty and Broken", so if you liked this, go check that one out. Cause, you know, I'm not pimping myself or anything... :p