Chapter 9: I Want You to Mean It

"I surrender who've I've been for who you are,

Nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart,

If I had only felt what it feels to be yours,

Well I would have know what I've been living for all along.

What I've been living for."

-Sleeping at Last, "Turning Page"

Severus tapped his hands nervously on the arm of his chair. Is she coming?

All day he had been folding and unfolding the note, and now it was falling apart between his twitching fingers. No matter: he knew its contents by heart:

Severus,

I am coming in tonight on the train. I should be in the castle by eight o' clock.

Please be prepared to kiss me upon my arrival.

Yours,

Hermione

He was prepared, all right. But the afternoon crawled, and Severus wasn't sure what to do with himself, his mind preoccupied with Hermione. He mindlessly tidied his quarters, which really involved straightening towers of books and putting the empty mugs in the sink. Then he tried to read, but he kept coming across snippets and sections he wanted to mark for Hermione, and that grew distracting, until eventually he put the book down. He took a walk on the grounds, the late December day being quite unusually sunny, but he was nervous he'd miss her, although it was nowhere near eight. When he found himself marking the Brown boy's essay satisfactory, he decided distractions were hopeless, and sat down to wait.

Now it was nearly quarter-after eight, and there was no sign of Hermione. His mind reeled with possibilities: she had changed her mind, decided she no longer wanted him. Or something worse had happened to her... but Severus wouldn't let himself think about that. She was a bright, talented witch. She could surely handle whatever danger came her way. After all, she'd all but defeated the Dark Lord for Potter.

But by the time the clock struck eight-thirty, all rational thought was gone and Severus was prepared to set out to look for her. He knew there were still Death Eaters on the run-only a few, but what if one of them had found her? She was famous, a target for evil. He was furious at the thought. No, I will not let anything happen to her.

He was fastening his cloak when Hermione burst through the door, flinging herself at him.

"Oof," he said as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Gods, Severus, I'm so sorry I'm late. I ran into Slughorn in Hogsmeade... that man can not stop talking, once he's started! I'm sorry I kept..." she didn't finish her sentence before kissing him hard.

He wound his hands around her, thankful for her presence but cursing Slughorn for making him wait. But she was here, finally, and safe. Here, and kept from him by several extra layers of clothing...

"Mmm... wait a second," he said, pulling away from her. He removed his cloak and her coat, and she threw her striped Gryffindor scarf over the back of a chair.

"You can't wear that here," he joked and she giggled, pretending to hide it under her discarded coat. "You'd look better in green." She scowled playfully at him, but let him lead her to the sofa.

He sat, pulling her down onto his lap. He surprised himself with his forwardness. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear.

"I was afraid you weren't coming," he confessed.

She looked confused. "But I told you..."

"I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. I wouldn't have blamed you."

She considered him for a moment. "Severus, I..."

"I just want to be sure that this is what you want."

"But I do, I..."

"I'm not a good person, Hermione. I've done a lot of terrible things, and I'm old."

"You're not old..."

"A lot older than you. But I can't help myself; I want you. But if you don't..."

"Severus!"

Hermione climbed off his lap, and then back on so she was sitting on his knees, a leg on either side of his hips. Severus struggled to steady his breathing: she was straddling him, and she looked incredibly sexy.

"Stop interrupting me," she ordered. "You forget that I know a lot more about you than most people. And yet here I am." She sighed. "Don't try to convince me to leave, Severus. I've made up my mind." She kissed him gently, snaking her hands up the hem of his shirt.

He clasped his hands over hers, stilling them. As nice as her touch felt, he wasn't ready to reveal the ugly, gnarled scars that covered his chest and back.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking her hands back.

"No, it's not you." He didn't want her to think she'd done something wrong. "I'm not ready for you to see that particular damage just yet."

She nodded. "Well, how about this, then?" She took his hands in hers and lay them on the skin of her waist, underneath her sweater.

"I like that very much."

"Good, me too. Now, what I said about being prepared to kiss me: five seconds in the entry doesn't count..."

"I missed you," he said after a while. Her cheeks and lips were flushed from kissing, and he didn't think he'd ever seen such an arousing sight.

"I missed you too," she said, "longest three days ever."

"No," he shook his head."Although I missed you then, too. I meant that I missed you when we weren't speaking. After..." he wasn't sure if he should bring this up again. "After I kissed you, when you didn't want me to."

"Oh, I wanted you to. I just didn't think we should."

"Because of Weasley?"

"Yes."

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"I don't like that."

She frowned at him. "Severus," she chided, "he's my friend. We've been through a lot together, he and Harry and I. I owe it to him to be considerate of his feelings."

Severus twisted suddenly, pinning Hermione to the couch beneath him. "I am insanely jealous of him," he growled in her ear.

"What for? You have me now."

"He had you longer," he mumbled into her neck.

"Severus," she took his face in hands, "Ron and I were together seven months, and he never had me the way you do."

She kissed him then, but it was different now; they were making up for lost time. She grabbed at his clothes, pulling him down, and he pressed himself against her. His hand found her breast under her shirt, and he caressed it gently; when she made no sign of objection, he cupped her over her bra and squeezed. She gasped and clutched him tighter, parting her knees so that he was nestled between them, his hardness pressed between her thighs. She arched her back, grinding herself against him.

"Oohh... Hermione, wait. He tried to sit up, but she held onto him.

"No."

"Yes, we shouldn't." It took all his will to sit back on his heels.

"Why not? She pouted up at him, her lips and legs parted, her sweater riding up over her flat stomach. He kneeled and kissed it, dotting chaste kisses across the exposed skin.

"It scares me, how badly I want you," he said finally.

"You don't have to want me," she whispered, pulling the front his shirt to bring him closer. "You have me."

"Hermione," he groaned, detaching her hands from his clothing, against her will and his own.

"I'm not a child!" She protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"I know," he soothed, caressing her skin. "I'm just scared of ruining this."

There was silence for a moment as she considered this.

He watched her think. Bloody Hell, he thought, she's fucking sexy. Her hair was splayed over a pillow, her cheeks flushed as she nibbled her bottom lip. I want to bite that lip. It would be so easy to follow her lead, tear off her sweater, bury his face between her breasts and let her grind against him... because gods, that hat felt so good. Maybe she'd unbutton his pants and stroke him, maybe let him remove her bra and roll her nipples between his fingers. Hell, maybe they'd even have sex. The thought of that that made Severus shudder with fear and his cock shudder with excitement.

But then what? Maybe she wanted that, and everything would be fine. But it seemed more likely that she'd be scared, that she'd regret it tomorrow and then everything-this perfect, perfect night-would be ruined. He remembered the whispered conversation he'd overheard in the corridor that night in October. She didn't even want to sleep with Weasley, her boyfriend of almost five months. He wouldn't let her make a decision she would regret.

"I wa-"

"Herm-"

They both spoke at once, then laughed.

"You, first," she said, sitting up across from him. The faced one another cross-legged on the sofa, their knees touching.

"Hermione," he began again, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear. "For as long as I am lucky enough to call you mine, I will live in terror of doing something to scare you away." He twirled her hair around his hands, alternately twisting and smoothing the long strands. "Eventually, I will do something. I will do or say or feel something, and you will leave. And that's alright, I mean, I know. But I'd like to put off that moment as long as possible."

She frowned at their hands clasped between them.

"What makes you so sure that I will leave?"

He took a deep breath. "Because I honestly cannot imagine anything you could do to make me send you away."

"No, you don't understand." She shook her head furiously. "What makes you sure this will end at all?"

As nice as it was to hear her say that, there remained no doubt in Severus' mind that their relationship was temporary. He'd keep her as long as he could, but that wouldn't be forever. No, she deserved a life with someone who could give her everything.

But if she wanted him as she claimed she did, which he still struggled to believe, he couldn't make her leave, could he? And if she stayed-forever- what happened then?

"Hermione," he rubbed his eyes, "I don't suppose I've given any thought to our future together. I assumed we wouldn't have one."

"But why?" She repeated. She turned and curled up against him, her head on his shoulder. "Severus, why do you still think I'm going to run away?"

He held her against his chest, stroking her hair.

"I cannot give you the life you deserve," he told her quietly. "A marriage, a family, a life free from death-threats and suspicion..."

"I don't care," she whispered into his neck.

"But don't you?" He asked her, "don't you want those things?"

"Of course I do!" She said angrily. "But I want them with you!"

Severus was silent. Does she mean that? His mind reeled. He knew this was it for him; she was it. When she was gone-and he knew it was when- there would be no one else. He would live the remainder of his life alone; weary as he was of loneliness, the idea of anyone else made him ill.

Hermione leapt suddenly from her seat looking horrified.

"Oh God, Oh God oh God..." She covered her face. "Oh God, Severus, I'm sorry! You must think me so daft. Here we've been together all of five seconds and I'm... Oh God..."

She reached for her coat, but he was there, pulling it from her hands.

"What are you talking about?" He towered over her angrily, his voice a low growl. "Where are you going?"

She would not meet his eyes.

"I'm being such a silly little girl!" She exclaimed. "Listen to me! Standing here, declaring I'd like to be together forever!" Her cheeks reddened from embarrassment. "Please," she begged, "please forget I said that."

He studied her pink face, her eyes still not meeting his. He cupped her face, tangling his hands in her hair. He couldn't think, but when he spoke, he knew it was the truth.

"I don't want to forget it," he whispered.

She looked up at him in shock. "You don't?"

"No, I don't. I want you to mean it."

"Oh, Severus!" She hugged him around the waist. "I do mean it!"

He kissed the top of her head.

"Me too, Hermione. Me too."

As they stood there in his small living room, holding one another in a halo of faint purple, it occurred to Severus that he couldn't remember, in all his life, being as happy as in that moment. And for the first time, he began to think maybe he could finally have a normal life: he could have Hermione, possibly forever, and in her someone to share his life with. He didn't dare let himself hope for a marriage, a family... but he trusted her implicitly, and she had said this wouldn't end.

And that was how Severus Snape once again found himself so full of hope, he felt as though he'd burst.