A/N: Hello, dear friends :) Hope everyone is doing well. Thank you all for the lovely reviews (including guest contributors) and the new follows & faves. I've mentioned that you all are awesome, right? ;)
Special thanks to DutchGirl01, Onyx Obsidian, Sassyluv, SereniteRose, SilverWolf1986, RhodaBush, megumisakura, floresamarillas, snazzieshazzie for reviewing so frequently. That you keep coming back and leaving your thoughts is so very kind, I am appreciative of you all.
If you have read any of my other works, you know I'm a hardcore Remione shipper and I've recently had the good fortune of finding a writer with heart, wit and soul who writes my OTP absolutely beautifully. So if there are any Remione fans out there, (or if you're just looking for a great read) look up MarcellaDix here on FF. She has four stories (with multiple pairings besides RL/HG) that are all well worth the read. She's also got a new SS/HG story that looks fantastic. I simply adore her works and I bet you might, too ;)
Hope you all enjoy this one. Take care & Happy Monday, lovelies :)
"It takes two to be serious."
― E.E. Cummings
As Miss Granger's body crashed into his own, his hands closing tight around her slight frame, Severus wished he had thought to accept one of Poppy's many strengthening potions the previous evening. Her head had plowed straight into his bad shoulder, and her weight, coupled with the extraordinary power of his spell, caused her body to collide full-force against his chest like a wrecking ball. Thankfully, no bones felt broken or displaced, but the impact was nearly enough to knock him unconscious.
His lungs felt bruised and battered as he struggled to draw a deep breath. But as the young Gryffindor lifted her head from his aching chest and those beautiful, chocolate eyes met his, he suddenly found it very hard to breathe for an entirely different reason.
As they stared deeply into eachother's eyes, their faces only an inch apart, their bodies intwined, their hearts pounding like snare drums, Severus' previous aches and pains faded as he drank in the surprising splendor of her.
Her shirt had both dipped dangerously low in the front, and ridden up high in the back, displaying ample amounts of creamy, soft skin. He realized with some shock that he was clutching her bare back, his pale hands wrapped tight around her warm, supple skin.
Her long legs, barely covered by a thin pair of shorts, wrapped dangerously around his own. Her body molded to his own, she couldn't have possibly landed in a more inopportune position or with any less clothing on.
The rational part of his brain knew he should release her instantly, apologize and carry on as if this had never happened, but his heart, infernal instrument that it was, simply refused to honor that request. Instead he held on tight, enjoying the way his whole body seemed to suddenly tingle and sing from the lovely sensation of holding onto her, although he couldn't fully grasp why.
His eyes wide with concern, his pupils dilated to the point of all blackness, he softly asked, "Are you alright?"
Laying against him, feeling his heart race against her own chest, her body responded to his tender touch and rich, careful voice. Her skin felt electrified, goosebumps springing forth all across every inch of her bare skin. Her nipples suddenly hardened as she laid against his firm chest, she was positive he could feel them through his thin shirt. Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tightening in the most exquisite way, all as a direct result of being so dreadfully close to him.
Her eyes dipped to his pale pink lips for a fraction of a second but it was enough to remind her of the three kisses she had given him, each one seared into her mind and flesh with the heat and sting of a branding rod.
Her eyes catching his once more, blacker than soot and full of uncharacteristic emotion, she suddenly recalled how many times she had fantasized about this very moment of having him, possessing him.
How many times had she touched herself while thinking of him holding her just like this, biting down hard on her pillow to muffle her screams of ecstasy as visions of him danced before her mind's eye?
Draped across him like a rag doll, barely dressed, her body was suddenly shocked alive by the delicate caress of his hands. She felt her center involuntarily flutter and clench at the thought of his hands dipping lower, soothing the ache that radiated throughout her body and set her nerves on fire.
But she shook the absurd desire from her mind and cursed her love-starved body for reacting this way.
No! Stop this!, she thought angrily. Don't be a damn fool!
She had to force herself to remember who he really was. He didn't give a damn about her, couldn't she see that? He was not the man she had concocted in her fantasies and it was high time she stopped viewing him through the rose-colored glasses of her fifteen-year old self.
This was the man who had insulted her for seven years, teasing her for her intellect, her friends, her appearance.
The cruel man who had just degraded her less than twelve hours ago.
The dismissive man who had thrown her out of the infirmary like a naughty child being sent to bed without supper.
The thoughtless man who just startled her needlessly and damn near made her plunge to her death.
A brave hero by all accounts, one who had saved her countless times. A noble man, one worthy of honor and respect, but not a kind, passionate man, at least...not to her.
Her body and hormones be damned, she simply had to stop this silly infatuation. It was causing her more harm than good.
She roughly pulled herself from his surprisingly tight grasp and stood up before him, her anger snapping to attention.
"Goddamn it! You scared me half to death!", she screamed, as she crossed her arms at her chest hoping to quickly cover herself before he could see just how excited and alive the firm touch of his hands had made her feel.
But if she was expecting her potions master to take this tongue-lashing lying down, she was in for a rude awakening.
His eyes narrowing in anger at her sharp-words, Severus recovered his usual sneer of disdain and neatly banished the confusing thoughts and feelings that having such a beautiful, young witch in his lap had stirred within him.
"Excuse me?!", he snapped, from his seat. "And just how exactly is this my fault?! What would even possess you to come traipsing down a steep flight of stairs, half-dressed, with your arms full?! You could've broken your neck if I weren't here to catch you!", he volleyed back, his eyes shining with indignation.
"I wouldn't haven fallen if you hadn't been here to frighten me!", she yelled in reply.
"And I'll have you know, I'm perfectly within my own right to dress how I please in my own rooms!", she said, bold as brass.
"I was just trying to take a shower! The bathroom in our room is broken so we've been using the one attached to the common room, not that's it's any of your business!", she roared.
Her cheeks were aflame with a lovely shade a pink, her curly hair wild and soft, framing her delicate face and tumbling and swirling down her tanned shoulders like a waterfall. Her chest heaved with each angry breath, her eyes narrowed with righteous indignation.
God damn, she looks stunning when she's angry, he thought with quite a bit of surprise.
While his mind swirled with this bizarre thought, she took his silence as her moment to press on, her long-held anger finally erupting with spectacular force.
"Do you mind telling me exactly how you were able to summon me from across the room?", she practically snarled as she stared down her former potions master.
"I'm...I'm not entirely sure," he weakly yet honestly offered, caught off guard by the direct question and the seething anger with which it was asked.
"Your healing has obviously advanced much more quickly than you've been letting on," she said, eyeing him warily. "Wandless magic is the most complex and demanding of all, and yet you've seemed to summon me with ease. You're magic has obviously been restored to full strength but you were content to let us all keep worrying about you, thinking you were truly still injured! You've been playing us for a fool!"
"Miss Granger, I can assure you, I have never been as weak as I am right now," he offered as he tried to temper her rage.
"I could barely life my arms this morning let alone cast a complicated spell. I have no earthly idea how I managed to summon you, without my wand, no less. You must believe me," he offered earnestly.
"Liar," she spat, hurt and embarrassment shining in her chocolate eyes. She crossed her arms even tighter, working hard to hold back every confusing emotion rushing through her except for her volatile rage.
"Why are you even here!? Come back to yell at me some more? Why bother now?! No one is here to witness it! I could call all the professors and a few house elves to see you further humiliate me, would you like that!?", she spat.
"Far from it. Miss Granger, if you could try and calm down, I'm simply here to speak with you...", he tried to reason with her but was abruptly cut off.
"I don't give a damn why you're here! Can you understand that!? And I will not calm down! I'm not a child nor am I your student! And I will be as angry as I damn well please!", she roared, her small body shaking like a tempest trapped in a teapot.
He nodded solemnly, his face unreadable, as a weary sigh escaped his lips, feeling defeated once more.
"You somehow managed to get here on your own and you can show yourself out. If you will excuse me, I was on my way to shower," she spat.
She turned on her heel and strode away, head held high as if she weren't wearing cotton shorts that left little to the imagination.
As she carefully crouched down and picked up her scattered toiletries, she quickly straightened up and fled as fast as her legs would carry her.
She entered the small bathroom and tried to slam the creaky door shut, but as she pushed against the heavy oaken door, she found the door's hinge badly broken which meant the damn latch wouldn't catch. She pushed with all her strength, but try as she might, the door wouldn't shut all the way and left at least a two inch gap between the door and the frame. She silently cursed this decrepit castle and all its broken bits.
If she had her wand with her, she could've easily fixed it, but it was sitting up on her bedside table. She shook her head in frustration, wishing she had brought it with her.
Peering through the gap in the door, she could see him still seated on the worn, leather sofa, his back turned towards her. Apparently he was being stubborn and refusing to leave.
Fine, she thought angrily, stay put. It won't bother me in the least.
But much to her chagrin, she found his silent presence did bother her. She knew he couldn't see into the bathroom, not from where he was seated. So she blew out the anxious breath caught in her chest, ignoring the uneasy feeling building in the pit of her stomach and chose to focus instead on her first shower in over a week.
As the young lady busied herself in the bathroom, Severus closed his eyes and silently cursed himself as his body went slack with physical and emotional exhaustion. What a fucking disaster this had turned out to be.
Let this be the last time I listen to the likes of Sirius Black.
He blew out an exhausted breath and knew he had to retreat and leave her in peace. No good would come from trying to speak any further, not when her rage was shouting down her better sensibilities, a feeling he himself knew all too well. Perhaps in a day or two, he could try once more to crack her hard shell.
He raised a weak, shaky arm and pointed at the gray marble bowl sitting atop the stone mantle which was full of blue Floo powder. Given how horrible he currently felt, he knew he couldn't make it back alone to the infirmary on his own. He could however summon Poppy or maybe even catch Black, before he left to work on the grounds. At least Black would be willing to help him.
Focusing his remaining strength on the bowl, he called out a clear, "Accio!", fully expecting the bowl to easily fly into his hands.
But not a single grain of powder budged.
He cleared and focused his mind and called out twice more to the same useless effect. The futile act left him stranded for the time being and more than a little puzzled.
How could his magical energy surge so suddenly and powerfully to save Miss Granger from falling fifteen feet away but he couldn't summon a handful of powder from five feet away? He hated not knowing why his body was betraying him, acting out of sorts at the oddest of times. Perhaps it was sheer desperation that caused his magic to swell at just the right moment. He knew that wizards and witches had been known on occasion of extreme distress to have magical flares of great proportion, but he had never once experienced it first hand.
The most potent element of spell work was intent. So much success rode upon it. If your heart was pure and your mind focused, any spell could be accomplished, even the most complex, you just had to want it. Sincerity, whether for good aims or bad, was crucial. And it would appear that in that split second of her falling, he had wanted to save her and spare her any pain and he had wanted it with all his heart.
Why would Miss Granger falling produce this reaction? He had always taken great pains to protect her and watch over her low these many years, just as he had done for Potter and Weasley, but that moment of summoning her from across the room felt different somehow, intimate almost. This had felt urgent, desperate even and he hadn't felt that kind of pull to help someone since Lily. And that realization made him pause.
But... why?
Why her?
Why now?
He asked himself over and over again, unable to produce a suitable answer.
Luckily, he had plenty of time to ponder the puzzling predicament as he sat stranded in the common room.
Hermione, for her part, fumed with bottled rage as she bustled around the small bathroom like a banshee, her bare feet noisily slapping against the cold stone floor. She turned the shower on full blast and busied herself while the water slowly heated. She brushed her teeth with quite a bit of force and examined her gaunt, angry-looking face in the mirror.
As the bathroom filled with steam, she began stripping her tattered, filthy clothing, peeling each piece away and tossing them in the sink. Her anger faded briefly as she became painfully aware that she was nude and Professor Snape was a mere ten feet away, blocked from view by only a half-closed, broken wooden door.
She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that covered the back of the bathroom door and openly eyed her naked form.
Running her hands over the smooth canvas of her skin, gliding across her arms and stomach, her thighs and breasts, her mind briefly wondered how he would respond to seeing her, just as she was.
What if he could see me right now?
What would he think?
Would he desire me or be disgusted?
Would his face betray ecstasy or apathy?
The latter, she thought resignedly, definitely the latter.
Shoving the thoughts away for another time, she stepped into the small, stone shower, and as the hot water pelted her skin, she let a soft moan of pleasure involuntarily escape her lips. The warmth and force of the water, the rush of the shower drowning out her thoughts and cocooning her in a blanket of white noise, it all felt positively heavenly as she finally felt her body relax and her mind quiet.
Severus heard her sigh and paused. Even with the water running, he could clearly hear the pleasure and joy redolent in the sound.
That sigh, so gentle and natural, it was just enough to break through his mental machinations and quiet his mind for the first time in days. That gentle little moan, that soft little noise, he found it was doing strange things to his body. The hairs stood on the back of his neck, his stomach clenched and his ears pricked up, silently, secretly hoping to hear that lovely sound once more.
And so, he sat in perfect silence in the common room and found himself suddenly mesmerized by the soft sounds and lovely scents emanating from the adjoining room.
As a potioneer and spy he had always been highly perceptive, relying heavily on his acute senses to survive and thrive. And in this moment, all of his sense felt bombarded in the most exquisite way.
He could hear her brushing her teeth, walking quickly across the stone, sighing under the water, scrubbing her hair vigorously.
He could smell the mint of her toothpaste, and the clean, fresh scent of her sweet soap. The smell of apples drifted his way as she washed her hair.
The combined effect of the lovely scents and contented sounds was oddly comforting and familiar in some way, as if he had ever experienced this before. Between the steam drifting out of the cracked bathroom door and the bright summer sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, the common room soon felt warm and Severus swallowed at the heat that flushed his face. He tried to shake the unfamiliar feelings of warmth and peace that flooded him and clear his mind, but he failed miserably. He settled for waiting patiently, and secretly, although he couldn't even admit it to himself, enjoying this moment.
Digging her nails deep into her oily scalp she scrubbed with vigor, trying to remove the dirt and grime from her body along with the tightness that twisted in her gut. Standing beneath the powerful, hot spray, she rinsed her hair and gained a small semblance of satisfaction as the bubbles and dirt were washed away. She quickly spun the bar of lemon verbena soap in her hands and worked up a considerable amount of lather that she used to thoroughly scrub her dry, dirty skin. Running her hands down her legs, slipping between her toes and skimming back up, her mind called him forth once more, much to her shame and embarrassment, as her hands slipped between her thighs and brushed against her center.
Oh, how his hands must feel here, she thought with some delight, as her soapy fingers slipped across the hardened peaks of her rosy nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure to her quivering center. Thoughts of his hands touching her body and his silky voice filled her mind with thoughts that were best left alone.
Stop it, she silently chastised herself for her chaotic and confusing emotions and thoughts. She silently marveled at how she could be simultaneously angry at and aroused by the same man. Why would she feel this way for a man who obviously didn't care for her? None of this made sense and it was infuriating not knowing why her body and mind were seemingly pitted against eachother.
She rinsed the soap from her body and the dangerous thoughts from her mind.
He heard the shower shut off and a moment later, she emerged clad only in a towel, her arms full once more. As she locked her eyes on his, he couldn't help but openly gaze upon her. Her skin was still wet and flushed from the hot water, her curls damp and clinging to her bare back, the back he had just felt with his own hands.
"You're still here I see," she offered with an air of annoyance.
He gave a simple nod, looking resolute and sincere.
She pursed her lips. Part of her was truly annoyed that he was bold enough to stay put after she had dismissed him. And yet another part was curious as to why he would still stay after her meltdown. She knew her temper was the stuff of legends around the school. Few were brave enough to tangle with her when she was in a poor mood, and she realized with some sadness that very few stuck around when she was angry. Even her best friends had been known to abandon her when she was upset, even when she needed them the most. And yet he was still here, still willing to bear her wrath. Something was keeping him here and she couldn't help but wonder what.
Realizing that she was still standing before him, dripping wet and barely covered, she turned and quickly began scurrying up the steps, desperate to return to her room and find more to wear than a threadbare towel.
As she darted away, she could feel his eyes upon her, following her up the steps.
Why would he be watching me? Looking at me in just a towel?
Surely he couldn't enjoy the sight of a half-naked, gangly bookworm, she thought with resignation.
He would no doubt find Hagrid more attractive than herself. She clutched her towel tight and tried to rush up the steep steps without tripping.
He watched her bare feet quickly taking the steps, her long legs glistening with water. He found as much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. His heart was beating fast, his skin suddenly sweaty and tingling.
Only a few minutes passed before she emerged once more, this time, clothed in jeans, a pale blue t-shirt and trainers. Descending the steps, she shoved her wand in her back pocket while pulling her long, curls into a high pony tail, her slender, nimble fingers gathering and wrapping her curls with eased, practiced movements.
Leading a long, mostly celibate, life of a spy, Severus had never had the opportunity to watch a woman get dressed and ready for the day. How Miss Granger looked when she awoke, the scent of her shampoo, the way her skin flushed and glistened in the morning light, what she chose to wear, watching her fix her hair, it was all simply mesmerizing. And that simple act of fascination flummoxed him.
What on earth was possessing him to watch her? He honestly couldn't say. She had been his student up until one short year ago and he silently chastized himself for leering at her and thinking of her beautiful body. He forcibly shook the bizarre thoughts from his mind, for he needed to focus on the important task at hand; getting her to actually listen to him.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Hermione finally met his eyes, uncertainty and anger still clear on her face as she paused to eye him once more.
"I have a full day of work, so if you'll excuse me," she said briskly, as she turned to leave.
"Miss Granger, please wait," he called softly.
But she kept on walking, steeling her nerve and her heart against him as she approached the portrait hole.
"I have a lot to do today," she offered tersely.
"Please, Miss Granger, wait!"
Her hand on the portrait, she began to push against it when he called once more.
"Hermione," he called softly, his voice gentle.
The sound echoed around the absolutely silent room and hung heavy in the air, seizing in her chest.
This stopped her. Not once in seven years had he called her by her first name. It sounded so beautiful coming from his lips.
"Hermione, please," he said softly, her body still facing away from him. "I need to speak with you, sincerely I do."
Her heart softened at his words. He had come here to speak with her and it moved her far move than she cared to admit.
"And besides that...," he continued, "I couldn't leave this room right now even if it were on fire. I really am quite weak," the exhaustion clear in his voice. "Please...please stay."
Ah, of course...he needed something from her. That's why he had remained. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment at her earlier thoughts. A fool once more for thinking he was here for her, that he might actually care about how she was fairing.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard at the sudden tears that threatened to fall. She didn't wish him harm, truly she didn't but neither could she bear to be near him. The wound was still too fresh, too painful to pretend it didn't hurt like hell.
"So you want me to stay because you need help back to the infirmary? Fine," she said, bitterness creeping into her voice, as she turned away from the portrait hole and strode quickly to the mantle, grabbing the bowl of Floo powder.
"Here," she bit out, roughly setting the bowl onto the table beside him, "call for Madam Pomfrey, she can help you back, I'm sure."
She went to leave but for the third time that day, her professor surprised her. His cool hand quickly shot out and clasped hers, gripping so tight, her body obeyed its siren call and halted before him.
"No, I don't want to leave," he said, holding her hand in his own, looking into her eyes with sincerity. "Not until I've said what has been weighing upon me."
Doubt flickered across her tired eyes. She wanted to flee but found that the way he delicately cradled her hand in his own left her rooted to the spot.
"Why are you really here?", she finally asked as she managed to pull her hand from his gentle grasp and stood before him, arms crossed tight, awaiting a satisfactory answer.
"I wanted to speak with you," he said slowly, holding her angry gaze. "I thought given how rude I was yetsterday...how rude I have always been to you...I thought you might not visit the infirmary, so I chose to come to you."
Her jaw clenched at his words, but her eyes softened ever so slightly.
"You...you really came here to speak with me?", she asked looking dubious.
He nodded, not daring to look away.
"I was hoping we could speak, that is..if you'll allow me? I have no intentions of forcing you, though. I understand if you would truly prefer not to speak with me."
She searched his eyes. They were dark and open and honest, a rare sight indeed. She sighed as she took a reluctant seat before him.
"Very well, sir," she offered politely, as she sat down, her posture still ramrod straight.
Seated before him now, she noticed for the first time that he had on a black, muggle sports coat and a tie atop his collared pajamas. This was quiet odd, because the only items of clothing he had at the castle were infirmary pajamas that Madam Pomfery had dressed him in.
How strange, she thought, with a bit of surprise. He somehow managed to dress up a bit to come and see me. But...why would he do that? To impress me? Surely not.
"Thank you, Miss Granger... for staying."
She offered a slight nod, still eyeing him with suspicion, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.
He finally had her seated before him. The easy part was done. Now came the hard bit.
"May I first say, I...I didn't intend to interrupt your morning routine. I simply wanted a chance to speak with you in private," Severus offered, his eyes meeting hers. "Forgive me for invading your private space this morning, it was a foolish idea to ambush you like I did."
His kind and thoughtful words, coupled so curiously with his soft tone took her aback. He wasn't angry or disappointed or yelling for once and she honestly wasn't sure how to handle this. She felt the ground beneath her shift as her addled brain slowly processed that he was actually apologizing and doing so sincerely. She had been so well prepared to battle him once more but he seemed intent on offering an olive branch instead.
"Yes, well," she offered, looking equally surprised and embarrassed. "I'm...I'm sorry I snapped earlier," her cheeks blushing. "I wasn't expecting you and it caught me off guard. I...I don't like being surprised," she said honestly, absentmindedly rubbing the slur etched for all eternity in the pale skin along her left forearm.
He swallowed thickly at the sight.
"Yes, I can imagine. I shouldn't have come uninvited," he said, looking ashamed.
She nodded once to indicate that she accepted him at his word.
The air hung heavy with tense silence, neither party knowing quite where to start.
The embarrassment that had started as a trickle was now a full-blown flood and she knew she needed to offer a more heartfelt apology. The man who had saved her life, many times over, deserved that small measure of respect.
"I am truly am sorry I yelled earlier, I was out of line, sir," she said softly, looking contrite and uncomfortable. "It was my fault I tumbled and I, of all of people, should know how very weak you still are. I should have known better than to accuse you of anything less than than the most honorable of intentions."
"Miss Granger, it is I who should be apologizing. I came her unannounced and uninvited. You had every right to yell," he said, trying to allay her worries.
"You saved me from injury, once more, sir. And I'm grateful," she replied softly, still eyeing her shoes.
He gave a small nod and swallowed thickly, unsure of how to say all the things he needed to say. The silence hung once more.
"I didn't know you could do wandless magic," she finally offered, trying to think of something to say. "Especially given how much damage your body has undergone."
"I truthfully don't know how I accomplished that. So much of spellwork is intent, as you know, and I simply didn't want to see you harmed, especially seeing as it was my fault in the first place."
He didn't want to see me hurt, she thought, with some surprise. Too late for that.
"Well, then...", he began hesitantly.
"Yes?", she said looking expectant.
"I am unaccustomed to relying on others, Miss Granger. I have spent many years on my own and have rarely if ever found myself in the position of being in someone's debt. So this is hard for me to say, but...thank you," he said matter-of-factly.
Her mouth hung open in shock for a brief moment before recovering her composure.
"Pardon me, sir?", disbelief clear on her face.
"I am thanking you, Miss Granger, for the incredibly hard work you no doubt put into clearing my name. While I may have some...mixed feelings on being granted this pardon, your hard work in accomplishing it should not go unnoticed. I am grateful...for everything you've done. I'm grateful for you," he said pointedly.
"Sir," she began, visibly taken aback by his kindness, "it is kind of you to thank me but in truth, many people helped to clear your name. The headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, Remus, Sirius, Draco, Harry, they all shared just how much you sacrificed in service to our cause. So very many helped in the effort, I do not deserve to be singled out for praise," she demurred.
"I'm aware of just how many helped but it is you who convinced so many to stand for me. Without your insistence, I doubt anyone would've bothered. It is you who convinced the Wizengamot, and I am grateful. Contrary to how I behaved last night, I am."
"It was my sincere pleasure to have helped in some small way, sir," she said with a small, tentative smile.
Her smile put him at ease for some strange reason and gave him the courage to press on.
"May I ask, Miss Granger...why did you do this? Why did you work to clear my name after I asked you not to?"
Although his tone was even and calm, his eyes gave away so much. In them, she could see annoyance, curiosity and a touch of amazement, if she wasn't mistaken.
"I know I angered you, sir, by disobeying you. But I simply couldn't sit idly by and see an innocent man sentenced to death. Regardless of how you view your past, I can assure you that I...and the wizarding world see you very differently," she answered honestly.
She braced herself for his wrath, after all that must be why he was really here, still looking to exact some punishment from her for going against his wishes. But, oddly enough, it never came.
"I see," he offered softy, still looking unconvinced.
She shifted in her chair as silence fell once more. He seemed to be weighing what exactly he wanted to say next so she patiently sat before him, her own nerves building.
"Miss Granger...I know it was you who saved my life the night of the final battle," he finally said, meeting her eyes once more.
Her eyes popped wide with surprise. Had he remembered her there, had he remembered their kiss?
"Y-Yes, sir," she quietly admitted, her eyes downcast, "how...how did you know it was me?"
"I remember you being there," he said, recalling the memories flashing before his mind's eye.
"I didn't know it was you at the time, the pain was too debilitating to focus on my surroundings but I remember feeling your fingers on my neck as you closed my wound. You poured a potion down my throat and then...", his voice trailed off as he recalled the memory of a warmth that graced his lips, a tenderness that soothed him even now just thinking about it.
"And then what, sir?", she asked, as her heart pounded and she hung on his every word.
Had it been a kiss? Certainly not, that was impossible. It simply couldn't have come from the lovely, young lady seated before him. This memory, although lovely to revel in, was too hazy and far-fetched to have actually happened. It must have been a hallucination, he convinced himself. So he wisely chose to keep the muddled memory to himself.
"Yes, then I lost consciousness. I hadn't realized it was you who had saved me until Poppy informed me last night, after I...after I was so rude to you."
Hermione let out a slight sigh at this, whether from relief or disappointment, she wasn't sure.
"Miss Granger, may I be so bold as to ask...why did you save me that night?", he asked as his eyes bored into her own, craving an answer to the question that had plagued him since that fateful night.
Because like the foolish chit that I am, I've been head-over-heels in love with you for years, she thought rather bitterly. But she wisely kept this melancholy thought to herself.
"Sir, I...I saw you injured and...and dying, and I couldn't let you die," she said softly, tears suddenly pricking her eyes as she remembered how he looked when she had found him that night.
"I see," he nodded. "You would've saved whomever you encountered, you're just good-hearted that way," he said, dismissing her act as mere pity on her part, nothing more to it.
"Sir, no," she said adamantly. "I am not so noble as you make me out to be. I saw many fall that day, some I could've helped were I not needed elsewhere. But you, sir...I saved you purposefully. I saved you because I wanted to," she earnestly.
"And why would you want to save me?", he asked looking truly purplexed.
"Because you're a good man, and I couldn't bare to see you die, not if I could help it."
He felt bile rise in his throat at the words.
"I am no such thing, Miss Granger," he said sharply, his mouth set in a hard line. "I do not deserve this praise," he said with a firm shake of his head.
"Of course, you do, sir."
"I do not," he stated once more but this time with more force as his temper began to flare.
"But, sir," she began.
"Miss Granger!", he snapped, startling her slightly. "Save your praise for someone else. I neither need nor want it," he bit out with far more force than he intended.
"No," she stated defiantly.
"Excuse me?", he asked, rather unaccustomed to being talked back to.
"No, sir. I will not hold my back my praise. You asked me a question and I am answering honestly and you will let me finish!", she snapped in retort.
"Miss Granger," he said warningly.
"No! For once, hold your tongue and just please listen to me!", she yelled, standing from her seat as her anger took hold again.
Her raised voice stunned him into unusual silence.
"You risked your life to keep us all safe. And that's not something that should be so easily glossed over to suit you. This isn't some triviality, it's your whole life's work and it deserves praise, whether you agree or not," she said angrily, shaking her head in frustration at having to defend her actions.
"I needed to do this," she said more softly. "I needed the world to know the real you. Because I owe you my life, and the lives of my friends, many times over. You may not believe this just yet, but you do deserve this, all this and more."
"We've all done things we've regretted. But that doesn't make you any less admirable," she said as she sat down beside him on the sofa.
"Admirable? I'm a criminal, Miss Granger. Nothing more," he said resolutely, looking away from her imploring eyes.
"So, you wanted to rot in prison?", she asked disbelievingly. "What good would that have done? I don't know if you've noticed, but we're struggling here and could genuinely use some help," she said, desperate for this stoic man to hear her and understand.
She blew out an angry sigh and stared into the dancing flames of the fire while Severus opted for silence.
"You can keep carrying on as the miserable, cruel potions master. You really can if you like. But it just doesn't fit anymore does it? There are no more demons to fight," she said defiantly.
"There's always demons, Miss Granger," he offered as he looked her in the eye.
"If you say so, sir," she said, looking a bit defeated.
She could see his anger and resignation rolling in once more like the afternoon tide, reliable and unwavering. How could she make him see? What could she say or do to convince him of his considerable worth?
And then, it hit her. Maybe the path to convincing him of his own worth wasn't to browbeat him into seeing things her way, but rather to try and see the world from his perspective. It was empathy he needed right now. If she wanted to be understood, maybe she needed to understand him first.
"Sir," she began, more softly this time, "forgive me for my impertinent tongue. I would never think to presume to know how you feel...but I imagine that this is all very hard for you, " she said looking both anguished and contrite as realization hit her.
"Leading the dangerous life you did, where the only possible route of salvation could be death...Neither I, nor anyone else can begin to know the depths of what you've faced. And if...", she paused, feeling a rush of emotions, "if you truly did want to die that night and I stole that from you...then I am sorry to have hurt you. To make you stay here longer than you had wanted was a cruel thing to inflict upon you," she said, tears suddenly falling down her cheeks as she looked down at her hands, feeling this guilt take hold.
Seeing her so distraught, he felt something painful catch inside of his chest, something strange, something he couldn't remember ever feeling so acutely. It was anguish. And the sight of her looking so defeated made his anger crack and subside.
"Miss Granger, there is no need for you to apologize. You had no way of knowing how I felt. You were doing a noble deed, as Gryffindors are want to do," he begrudgingly admitted. "I don't know fully yet how I feel about surviving. Many emotions, to be sure, but above all else I feel...undeserving. And that is no fault of yours, let me assure. That is something I must parse through. You truly do not need to apologize to me," he said desperately trying to ease the pain he had caused her with his thoughtless words and actions.
But she simply wiped her eyes and shook her head in response.
"No, sir, I do need to apologize. Because I can see now that I...I took something from you. Something you needed and I hurt you by doing that. I am sorry, sir," she said sadly.
Leaning back against the sofa, she looked tired and worn out, like a prize-fighter limping out of the ring after an unbelievable knock-out.
"For so long, I've lived in a black and white world, right and wrong, good and bad," she said, staring into the fire. "At least I thought that was how the world was... It felt easier, simpler somehow to believe that. But now I see all the gray around me. People who I thought were good making bad choices, people who I thought were...", she paused looking up at him with the word 'bad' sitting right on the tip of her tongue.
"People who I had underestimated," she said carefully, "proving themselves in amazing ways. I thought I knew it all and it turns out I don't know very much at all," she offered with a sad smile.
"Welcome to adulthood," he said with a small smile, meeting her eyes.
She smiled but it didn't quite reach her tired, brown eyes.
"I was being selfish that night. An insufferable know it all, as usual. I saw too many good souls perish in my time and to let you slip away for the want of a few potions, well...I couldn't let that happen."
"Maybe I was wrong to save you that night. Maybe I should've left you to rest in peace...but what if you were meant to have a second chance? What if you have more good to do here? What if you're just beginning?", she asked with genuine hope in her voice.
How he wanted to believe her words and take that hope deep within him and carry it like a torch against the darkness of his soul. The notion that he could find redemption here sounded like such a lovely idea but deep down, he knew it was a dream that he had lost the night Lily died. And he simply didn't know how to ever get it back.
"You really think I can do any good here?", he asked disbelievingly.
"I do, because you're a good, honorable man... a man worth saving," she said honestly, sitting up and holding his gaze.
"And I...I always knew you were on our side, sir," she said boldly.
"How? How could you possibly know? After how deplorably I treated you these many years? Why waste any kindness upon me at all?", he demanded, his eyes flashing not only anger but also disbelief.
"Because you saved us too many damn times for it to be an act. Had you really been against us, you could've let us die many times. But you never did. You're truly selfless and incredibly brave, sir."
"I do believe you're confusing me with Mr. Potter," he quipped, trying to dismiss her compliments.
"No, Harry's brave certainly, but it was never his choice, you see. He was destined to be the man who killed Voldemort, it was foretold. And believe me, Harry hated it. He hated having the responsibility, the pressure, the inevitability of it all."
"He was forced to be selfless while you gave of yourself freely. He wanted nothing more than to be a normal child, with two parents and a happy childhood. He would have happily given up this burden and turned his back on this life had he been given any choice in the matter."
"Are you calling your friend a coward?", he asked looked taken aback by her astute observation.
"Of course, not. Harry's incredibly brave, few could've done what he did. But I do know he would've walked away if he could have. And I don't think I would've blamed him," she said honestly.
"But you...you willingly stayed and fought and...it's really quite incredible," she said, looking awe-struck at the man before her and offered him a small, genuine smile.
How this young, pure woman could think so highly of him was truly a mystery that Severus just couldn't seem to crack. He smiled slightly at her, unaccustomed to speaking so freely and so comfortably with anyone, let alone a former student. It somehow felt...right, good even, to be speaking to her and giving voice to his many concerns and worries. It turned out, she was surprisingly easy to talk to.
"I might point out that you stayed as well, Miss Granger. You were under no obligation to fight this war and yet you did," he kindly offered.
"Yes, but I had friends depending upon me. They needed me, and in truth, I needed them. From what I can tell, you didn't have nearly the same reasons for staying."
"I didn't have a choice," he said sadly, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Lily Potter died because of me, I had to do something...anything to make up for that. I really didn't have any choice at all."
"I must politely disagree once more, sir," she said, her boldness causing her to challenge him. "If there is one thing I've learned throughout all of this, is that there is always choice. They may not be great choices, but they do exist."
"A lesser man would've fled," she noted. "You could've made an entirely new life for yourself, but you didn't. You stayed because you're a good person, with a good heart. We wouldn't have made it...I wouldn't have made it without you. So, thank you. Thank you for staying, for fighting, for protecting all of us, me especially," she said with warmth and gratitude.
He eyed her then, scarcely taking in her kind, eloquent words.
"I guess that's why I saved you," she said kindly. "I never had the chance to properly thank you for saving me, countless times."
"Thank you, sir. I would not be sitting here without you," she said sincerely.
His gut reaction was to dismiss the words and the sentiment they conveyed. But hadn't he spent a lifetime needlessly dismissing others? Perhaps this new lease on life required a new outlook, and being more gracious seemed like a good place to begin.
He realized as he sat next to her, sharing this space and this moment, that sometimes the need to express gratitude was as great as the need to be forgiven. For both represented the same underlying desire; to be understood and have that feeling be accepted and acknowledged as valid.
If she could be gracious enough to grant him absolution for his atrocious behavior, then he could certainly return the favor and accept her gratitude even if he didn't feel like he deserved it.
He breathed out a sigh and offered a slight nod.
"You're welcome," he finally managed, as a small smile graced his lips.
She smiled in return and breathed her own sigh of relief. Her first sit-down with her dear professor that hadn't ended in tears or dismissals. This felt like progress, like the start of something new between the unlikely pair. The power dynamic that had been so rigidly set in place all these years seemed to waver and crack ever so slightly, as the student and teacher moved into the new terrain of simply being equals of sorts, perhaps even becoming friends.
"While I will reluctantly accept your gratitude, I need to know that you will also accept mine," he stated firmly.
"Thank you, Miss Granger, for saving me, three times."
She smiled at his words but creased her brow in confusion.
"Sir, I didn't save you three times. I helped you the night of the final battle and on your trial. That's only two occasions," she said with a confused expression.
"You surprise me, Miss Granger, it's unlike you to forget details. Your memory seems to be failing you," he said with a warm smirk.
"You saved me once from a painful, poisonous death, another from a life in Azkaban and another from a feral werewolf."
"Sir, I believe it is you who are recalling things incorrectly," she said softly, "for it was you who saved me from Professor Lupin that night by the Whomping Willow."
"No, Miss Granger. I remember that night very clearly. You held on to me...so very tightly. And you pulled me back just as Lupin lunged at me. Had you not done that, I would've been shredded to pieces before Black could've intervened. So, thank you for saving me, three times more than you should have," he said with a reluctant smile.
"My pleasure, sir," she said with a small smile.
"As repayment for those heroic and foolish deeds, I owe you, three times over, for saving my own life and I fully intend on repaying those debts," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Sir, I don't understand," looking confused once more. "You plan to repay me?"
"Indeed. My godson kindly reminded me last night that it is not in keeping with the House of Slytherin to leave a debt unpaid. I owe you three life debts. So whatever you wish of me, you shall have it," he said resolutely.
Whatever I wish? Your heart, then. I'll take that, please, she thought with a small smile and a chuckle.
"Did I say something amusing?", his asked teasingly, his voice silky and rich.
"No, sir, not at all," she said with a smile.
"Very well, then. What can I do to repay you?", he asked once more.
"I can ask anything of you and you'll do it?", she asked looking truly incredulous.
"Anything within reason, Miss Granger. Don't expect me to bake Hagrid a birthday cake or knit sweaters for the house elves," he said with pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow.
She chuckled as her thoughts ran rampant with creative ideas but she knew what she wanted of him, and it didn't involve anything too ridiculous. She simply hoped he wouldn't refuse her.
"Very well, sir. If it is agreeable to you, I would like two things," she began.
"First, I would like you to listen to Poppy and start take your healing potions. Seeing you get better is something I would very much like to see," she said. When he didn't object, she took that as her sign to press on and ask for the bigger favor of the two.
"Then...once you are fully healed, I would like you to remain here at the castle and help us rebuild. Help me, that is. The help I have here now is just not cutting it. We're all run down from the war and we need more manpower. At the rate we're working, this school won't be ready to reopen for several years. I can't stand the idea of that, of so many children putting their education on hold, not experiencing this marvelous place. I need to see this through and your help would make it immensely easier," she said hopefully.
Selfless to a fault. Such a silly, brave-hearted Gryffindor, he thought with small smile.
Although he had not planned to remain here at the castle, he truthfully had no concrete life plans at the moment and renovating the school was obviously something very near and dear to the young woman. Taking in her impassioned plea and eyes full of hope, he vowed, then and there, to never disappoint her again. It was the least he could do for the woman who had saved him, three times over, no less.
He sighed and offered a reluctant nod.
"Very well, Miss Granger, if those are two things you wish of me, then you shall have them. But, remember I owe you three debts. You still have one favor left to ask for," he reminded her.
"I think those things will more than amply repay me," she said graciously.
"No, I insist. Three favors for three debts," he said adamantly.
"Well, then. In that case, I think I'll hold onto my last favor. Maybe there is more I will need from you in the future," she said with a wry smile.
"I will hold you to it," he said offering her his hand to seal their deal.
"Thank you, sir," she said, as she shook it with a warm smile on her face.
He offered a polite nod in return, feeling his chest lighten as some small glimmer of purpose and hope began to burn bright in his heart.
~~~~0000~~~~
Sirius was sweating and covered from head to toe in dirt and grime as he headed down the long corridor towards the infirmary. Clutching his right hand tight against his chest, a make shift blood-soaked bandage wrapped tight around it, he was muttering a torrent of obscenities to match his foul mood.
As he rounded the corner, he was surprised to find Poppy standing just outside the infirmary. Leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, she was peering into her room through a small crack in the door with a genuine smile on her face.
"Poppy, have you got any dittany? I sliced my hand wide open on a broken window and the damn thing won't stop bleeding," Sirius groused as he reached her.
"Sshhhhh!" Poppy said testily, ignoring his query, her eyes and attention still focused in the infirmary.
"Didn't you hear me, woman? My hand is gushing here! I'm seconds away from death!", he said huffily at being dismissed in his obvious state of agony.
"Oh, would you hush for a damn second and take a look!", she hissed quietly as she pulled him closer so he too could peer into the infirmary.
His eyes followed her gaze and landed on a stunning sight.
Hermione was carefully helping Severus walk back to his bed, her arm slung tight around his waist, as he gently leaned on her for support. As they reached his bed and the potions master sat down heavily upon it, Hermione gently slipped off the borrowed jacket and helped get him settled against his pillow. She then carefully pulled the covers up and tucked him in. She sat down on a stool beside him, and the pair began to quietly talk while Hermione handed him vial after vial of healing potions, each of which Severus was reluctantly taking.
The pain radiating through Sirius' hand was momentarily forgotten as he looked at Poppy and shared a warm smile with the mediwitch.
"Well, I'll be damned," Sirius said with a grin. "He's finally taking his potions," he said softly, a touch of awe in his deep voice.
She nodded with a small, triumphant smile.
"It's nice to see him coming around a bit. I knew if anybody could get that old codger to pull his head out of his arse it would be Hermione," he said with a smirk.
"Indeed," Poppy said with a smile, as she breathed a deep sigh of relief at the sight.
"It looks like Miss Granger has managed a miracle today," she said softly.
"I think he's finally got something to live for," she said with a knowing smile that was not lost on the animagus.
