Supposed Crime, Chapter Four
Well, it gets a bit interesting from here on out... It'll all get explanied, don't worry.
Aimée
---
I found her sitting out by the lake later that evening, the indigo shade of the night sky silhouetting her body magnificently. The soft moonlight already reflected off of her still form as I approached her silently, but my effort was futile; she turned around the moment I stopped behind her, her facial features serene yet pained all at the same time.
"Severus," she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been waiting for you."
"You have?" I asked, looking around once for any others who could possibly see the two of us together and then sat down.
"Well, I've been looking for you."
She smiled faintly, snaking her right hand over touch my left. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"
"It is," I agreed, wondering where all of this was going. She wasn't anything like her normal self; her reservations about anything resembling a personal conversation were peculiar, especially considering the fact she was obviously wanting to say something. "Why were you waiting for me?"
She shrugged, turning towards me with a strangely detached expression on her face. "I've made my decision."
My stomach plummeted down to my knees; she didn't have to tell me her answer, I already knew. "You're rejecting my offer."
Hermione sighed, and I caught sight of a single tear running down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away, so I reached my hand up gently to do so for her, acutely aware of her regret-filled gaze.
"I have no choice."
I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to speak just then. We were silent for perhaps a minute or two more until I finally shook my head as the realization of the situation set in. It was as if all of the hopes and dreams I had ever had were dashed out with a single stroke. They had been, I realized, with her rejection.
"Please, Severus, don't take it personally," she pleaded, interrupting my train of thought. "I do love you, it isn't like I'm doing this for the benefit of us or anything."
"Then why?" I asked, steeling myself against her answer. I was not—not—going to allow my feelings to get in the way that night. No matter how important she was to me, she was still—as much as it pained me to say—just a girl, much like a billions of others walking the planet. She was absolute perfection in my eyes, but the rational part of my mind chided me, insisting there had to be hundreds, if not thousands of girls out there exactly like her.
"I'm going to lose Harry," she responded softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a sort of desperate longing evident in her tone, one I had only heard from her lips when Potter was the subject of discussion. "Ever since Ron died, he's been slipping further and further away from me. I can't let him get away, Severus, I'm sure you realize that. He's my best friend, and to—as much as I hate to say it—preoccupy myself with you at this point, no matter how much I love you, would absolutely kill him. If I was to marry you, I would be forced to tell him, and I don't think he could handle finding out I've been lying to him for so long."
Female logic. "I understand," I murmured, gazing out over the moonlit water towards the looming mountains around us.
"So many people call him the Boy Who Lived," she said softly. "They all think he's invincible, but I know he isn't—he's the most vulnerable person I've ever known in my life." She smiled ironically. "He hates the name, you know. The night where so many rejoiced was a night that completely and utterly destroyed his life; it took away his family, and he was denied anything even remotely resembling love for so long… I need to be there for him, he needs his best friend right now. Ron's gone, Voldemort's defeated, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with his life."
What about me? My own life—of which I had devoted over twenty years to being one of the key spies for Dumbledore, risking my life with each breath I took—was being determined by Potter's own self-pity. I had been selfless my entire life, and for once—just once—I wanted to cry out in a childish manner and state in no uncertain terms exactly how unfair I found the whole ordeal to be. For Hermione's sake, however, I kept my mouth shut.
"He's done enough for Hogwarts to last him a lifetime," I said, pushing my grief and feelings of unfairness into the recesses of my mind. "Hopefully he will realize it is time to share his gifts with the rest of the world now."
She nodded, her eyes growing distant for a time before she finally turned towards me, and I noticed a fresh trail of tears leading down her cheeks. "I have to go now."
I nodded solemnly as I stood up, offering my hand to her. She took it gratefully and pulled herself up, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. "May I still owl you ever so often?" she asked.
"I would be extremely disappointed if you didn't," I admitted. She smiled sadly and paused, and with a sudden movement, leaned in and pressed her lips against mine for what was to be the last time for half a decade.
"Goodbye, Severus," she whispered, giving me one last look before turning away. "I love you."
All I could do was simply stare at her retreating figure, hollowness as I had never experienced filling me to the very soul of my being. I don't know how long I stood there and I don't remember walking back to my rooms that night; all I could remember was the feeling of her soft lips pressed against mine for what I was sure to be the last time.
Three weeks later, she became Hermione Granger-Potter.
---
Anakah: I take it you liked that last sentence, eh? :o) Nah... you'll see what happens.
Fire: Sorry... =Þ
lip: I'm glad you like it. :o) Thanks.
Megan: I know it's dry, it's supposed to be dryish... gotta get it set up somehow! :o)
Well, it gets a bit interesting from here on out... It'll all get explanied, don't worry.
Aimée
---
I found her sitting out by the lake later that evening, the indigo shade of the night sky silhouetting her body magnificently. The soft moonlight already reflected off of her still form as I approached her silently, but my effort was futile; she turned around the moment I stopped behind her, her facial features serene yet pained all at the same time.
"Severus," she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been waiting for you."
"You have?" I asked, looking around once for any others who could possibly see the two of us together and then sat down.
"Well, I've been looking for you."
She smiled faintly, snaking her right hand over touch my left. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"
"It is," I agreed, wondering where all of this was going. She wasn't anything like her normal self; her reservations about anything resembling a personal conversation were peculiar, especially considering the fact she was obviously wanting to say something. "Why were you waiting for me?"
She shrugged, turning towards me with a strangely detached expression on her face. "I've made my decision."
My stomach plummeted down to my knees; she didn't have to tell me her answer, I already knew. "You're rejecting my offer."
Hermione sighed, and I caught sight of a single tear running down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away, so I reached my hand up gently to do so for her, acutely aware of her regret-filled gaze.
"I have no choice."
I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to speak just then. We were silent for perhaps a minute or two more until I finally shook my head as the realization of the situation set in. It was as if all of the hopes and dreams I had ever had were dashed out with a single stroke. They had been, I realized, with her rejection.
"Please, Severus, don't take it personally," she pleaded, interrupting my train of thought. "I do love you, it isn't like I'm doing this for the benefit of us or anything."
"Then why?" I asked, steeling myself against her answer. I was not—not—going to allow my feelings to get in the way that night. No matter how important she was to me, she was still—as much as it pained me to say—just a girl, much like a billions of others walking the planet. She was absolute perfection in my eyes, but the rational part of my mind chided me, insisting there had to be hundreds, if not thousands of girls out there exactly like her.
"I'm going to lose Harry," she responded softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a sort of desperate longing evident in her tone, one I had only heard from her lips when Potter was the subject of discussion. "Ever since Ron died, he's been slipping further and further away from me. I can't let him get away, Severus, I'm sure you realize that. He's my best friend, and to—as much as I hate to say it—preoccupy myself with you at this point, no matter how much I love you, would absolutely kill him. If I was to marry you, I would be forced to tell him, and I don't think he could handle finding out I've been lying to him for so long."
Female logic. "I understand," I murmured, gazing out over the moonlit water towards the looming mountains around us.
"So many people call him the Boy Who Lived," she said softly. "They all think he's invincible, but I know he isn't—he's the most vulnerable person I've ever known in my life." She smiled ironically. "He hates the name, you know. The night where so many rejoiced was a night that completely and utterly destroyed his life; it took away his family, and he was denied anything even remotely resembling love for so long… I need to be there for him, he needs his best friend right now. Ron's gone, Voldemort's defeated, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with his life."
What about me? My own life—of which I had devoted over twenty years to being one of the key spies for Dumbledore, risking my life with each breath I took—was being determined by Potter's own self-pity. I had been selfless my entire life, and for once—just once—I wanted to cry out in a childish manner and state in no uncertain terms exactly how unfair I found the whole ordeal to be. For Hermione's sake, however, I kept my mouth shut.
"He's done enough for Hogwarts to last him a lifetime," I said, pushing my grief and feelings of unfairness into the recesses of my mind. "Hopefully he will realize it is time to share his gifts with the rest of the world now."
She nodded, her eyes growing distant for a time before she finally turned towards me, and I noticed a fresh trail of tears leading down her cheeks. "I have to go now."
I nodded solemnly as I stood up, offering my hand to her. She took it gratefully and pulled herself up, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. "May I still owl you ever so often?" she asked.
"I would be extremely disappointed if you didn't," I admitted. She smiled sadly and paused, and with a sudden movement, leaned in and pressed her lips against mine for what was to be the last time for half a decade.
"Goodbye, Severus," she whispered, giving me one last look before turning away. "I love you."
All I could do was simply stare at her retreating figure, hollowness as I had never experienced filling me to the very soul of my being. I don't know how long I stood there and I don't remember walking back to my rooms that night; all I could remember was the feeling of her soft lips pressed against mine for what I was sure to be the last time.
Three weeks later, she became Hermione Granger-Potter.
---
Anakah: I take it you liked that last sentence, eh? :o) Nah... you'll see what happens.
Fire: Sorry... =Þ
lip: I'm glad you like it. :o) Thanks.
Megan: I know it's dry, it's supposed to be dryish... gotta get it set up somehow! :o)