The bastard was dead. And in the end, he had known that he'd been betrayed. Severus's job was done. He had been kept out of Azkaban on the good word of Potter and Weasley. He had managed to persuade them to do the same for Lucius and his family. The ends were wrapped up. He had informed Minerva that he would not be returning for the following school year. His home was neatly packed. He didn't know who would be tasked with clearing it, but he had no desire to leave a mess for whomever ended up with it. Maybe they would just demolish the house, belongings and all. He didn't care either way.
Her remains had never been recovered. Severus himself wasn't even sure what happened to her body. He shivered, his insides twisting at the thought that one of the more… disturbed… Death Eaters may have taken it home with them. Nonetheless, a memorial had been erected here, just a few meters from the one dedicated to Albus Dumbledore.
Hermione Granger – loyal friend, beloved daughter, champion for the light.
He raised his wand for what was likely the final time, and added a line to the stone.
Cherished lover.
He sat slowly, his back pressed against the headstone. His legs stretched out in front of him. He didn't have much time, he knew. Potter and Weasley would be by soon to make their daily apologies. He closed his eyes, playing with the bottle in his hands, and let his memory wander back to better days.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he murmured into her neck. Her head was thrown back and her breath came in harsh pants. She was pressed against the wall outside his bedroom door. "You aren't of age."
She moaned breathily as his tongue lapped at the hollow of her throat. "Age of consent is sixteen."
His hands slid beneath her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back. "It's against the rules."
She grabbed him by the hips and pulled his body against her. "It isn't."
That made him pause. He pulled back, looking down at her. "Isn't it?"
She slid away from him. "No," she said, slipping through the doorway into his bedroom.
He sighed. That had been one of the best nights of his life. When she had slipped out of his quarters before breakfast the next morning, he hadn't been able to bring himself to regret a thing.
"I miss you," he admitted, wishing that he could hold her in his arms. It had been weeks since she had been able to sneak away from the boys and meet with him. When she could get away, it was all stolen kisses and, if they were lucky, a quickie against a tree trunk. He missed having her pressed against him. He missed her body in the bed beside him.
She smiled and he hated how the enchanted glass distorted her features. "After this is over you'll never have to miss me again, I promise."
He had been missing her for months now. But it would be over soon. He cracked his eyes open and looked down at the potion he held. One of the world's strongest poisons. It was quick, it was relatively painless, though he hardly thought that painless was what he deserved after all that he had done. But he could already imagine the lecture he would get on the other side if he made his own death long and drawn out and dramatic. He pulled out the stopper and held the bottle up to the light of the sun. It was a pleasant summer day with only a few clouds in the sky. It was a lovely day to die.
He took a long swig from the bottle before replacing the cork and setting it neatly in the grass beside him. It wouldn't be long now.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," she whispered against his chest in the darkness.
His heart, which had only just begun to calm from their previous exertions, picked up speed again.
"I know you don't feel the same way and you probably don't even want to hear about it, but it's true." Her fingers, which had been tracing patterns aimlessly over his skin, stopped their movement. She turned, burying her face almost into his armpit.
"What are you doing?" he rumbled, a touch of laughter in his voice.
Her voice was muffled, but he made out her single word reply. "Hiding."
He laughed. "Hermione, I fell for you a long time ago."