Chapter Thirteen
Hermione wondered if she should pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Had he just said he loved her?
She spent several minutes leaning against him, his arms wrapped loosely around her torso, as they lounged on his couch. Outside, the sun had disappeared and given way to clouds, but the dreariness of the afternoon that day couldn't bring down Hermione's spirit. She sighed contently, simply basking in the lovely feeling of being in his strong arms and of hearing his steady heartbeat thumping behind her head as it rested on his chest.
For Severus, he was now in a daze. He vaguely realized that it had started raining. He felt as if the pitter-patter of the raindrops could lull him into a deep sleep if he let them.
As he was beginning to nod off, Hermione's voice brought him back. "Severus?"
"Mmm?" he mumbled drowsily.
"Tell me about your past."
Those five simple words hung in the air, awaiting his response. He closed his eyes, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. After having quite enjoyed himself in her company, she had to shatter it with such a request. To most people, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but Severus was not one to be open about his past. He was ashamed of it and had long ago chosen to bury it in the deepest recesses of his mind.
"Why do you want to know?" he grumbled, moving a bit.
Unsettled, Hermione sat up and turned to face him. Casting him a searching gaze, she took each of his hands in hers and gently squeezed them.
"I don't mean to upset you, Severus," she explained sincerely. "It's just- well, I'm in your house and with you, and I know so little about this place and about you. You're the man I love. Doesn't that count for anything? Don't you want to share with me what you wouldn't share with others?"
Severus frowned and sighed heavily. "Hermione," he groaned, somewhat pained. "I still don't see the point-"
"Please?" she pleaded. "I want to know what made you into the man you are today. Nothing you could say would deter me from loving you, understand? You think I'm going to judge you and push you away after everything we've been through together?"
Her desperate tone was making Severus clearly uncomfortable. He never dealt with feelings well, whether his own or someone else's. "I- I don't know," he stammered, agitated.
She could sense he was bristling with hurt and discomfort, which only fuelled her compassion more. "Severus, please... my sweet Severus, have more faith in yourself, in me... in us."
Her soft, brown eyes were glassy and begging. He blinked a couple of times, unable to fully grasp how anyone could love him so dearly, but having come to embrace this profound love himself, he knew he would be making the biggest mistake of his life if he dared push it away now... if he dared push her away.
"Of course I do, love," Severus reassured the young lady in front of him. "I just... it's not anything pretty, Hermione," he said grimly.
"I don't expect you to try and impress me, Severus," Hermione said clemently. "I only want the truth, is all."
"Very well," he gave in, letting his shoulders drop, almost in defeat. "As you know, I grew up in this house. You already know that my mother was a witch, and my father was a Muggle. You know their names as well, so I won't go into that. To put it simply, my mum never told my father she was a witch when she first married him. When I was born, things changed soon enough. At a very early age, I started showing magical abilities, more than most magical children. My father was stunned and wondered what was wrong with me, and it was then that my mother had to admit to him that she was a witch. He was beside himself with anger for having been deceived and never let her live it down from that day. In fact, he forbade her from ever using magic in front of him or in the house.
"He worked in the mill nearby, and when he wasn't at work, he was at the pub drinking. He would stumble through the front door late at night, oftentimes so intoxicated, he didn't even know who his wife or son were. He was verbally abusive to my mother and had a short temper, and as I grew older, he was constantly berating me, saying I was a freak. He took to striking my mother by the time I was six, and at that tender age, I decided to stand up to him and protect my mum. Little good it did. I was so much smaller and weaker than my father. I took to reading many of the books that still line these shelves, books that belonged to the Prince family, a Pureblood wizard line. I taught myself what magic I could, even though I was without a wand. In my quest to protect my mother and myself, that was the first time I dabbled in Dark magic, desperate to do anything to keep my horrible father from harming us.
"What was meant to be a good thing turned rotten, and as you know, I was accused of knowing more hexes and curses than much older students by the time I entered Hogwarts. When I started at Hogwarts, I thought for the first time that perhaps I would have real friends. Being surrounded by others like me, I thought for sure that they would understand, but I was sorted into Slytherin, having no idea what that meant - that I would be shunned by the other three houses and basically condemned to a dark and dismal fate from the moment of my sorting.
"I was naive and inexperienced and trusted too easily, a very foolish thing to do in Slytherin. So desperate in my attempt to make friends, I was easily swayed by the likes of Lucius Malfoy, who was much older than I was. By my third year, he had graduated, and I was left to my own devices. Malfoy only saw in me a vessel to be used for his bidding or by those more powerful than myself, so he was not a real friend, even though my young, delusional self was convinced otherwise.
"To be honest, the only true friend I ever had was Lily."
"Harry's mother?" Hermione interjected, unable to stop herself.
"Yes," Severus confirmed. "We were partners in Potions from day one. As Slughorn gloated time and again to you, she was brilliant at Potions. Together, we were a cut above and beyond all others at the art of potion-making. She was kind without reservation and asked nothing in return. No strings attached was a hard concept to grasp, as I grew suspicious and on edge around the other students the longer I was at Hogwarts, but I could always trust Lily. Before you, Hermione, she was the only woman to have ever shown me any modicum of kindness. We studied together and were good friends. I had feelings for her that were perhaps bordering on romantic, but I have no idea to this day if she ever considered me anything more than a friend."
"I'm sure she cared very much about you, Severus," Hermione said, hoping she sounded reassuring. From everything she had heard so far, she wasn't too surprised to learn that Severus's life growing up had been so horrible. She wished she could change it for him, could have known him when he was a child, a youth, a young adult.
"She did... until that incident at the end of fifth year, which I'm sure Potter has enlightened you about," Severus spat, contorting his face into a grimace.
Giving him a confused look, Hermione replied, "What are you talking about, Severus? Harry never told me anything about that."
He gave her a disbelieving, withering look. "Please, Hermione, don't lie just to spare my feelings. No doubt Potter went running to Weasley and you the moment he found out during your fifth year. The nosy brat looked inside the Pensieve during those accursed Occlumency lessons Dumbledore insisted I give the ungrateful boy. He sneaked into my private memories, Hermione. He saw the damage done that day - how his father and his lackey friends used me yet again as bait for their tricks."
Flushing red in annoyance and hurt, Hermione placed her hands on her hips and stood. "How dare you accuse me of lying to you!" she yelled. "No, for your information, you insufferable bastard, he never said anything to either Ron or me!"
Severus realized the severe folly in his assumption immediately and felt remorse penetrating his being. "I just assumed-" he tried to say.
"Yes, you assumed; how bloody convenient to just put the blame on Harry like you always do."
"Now, wait a minute! That's an unfair accusation, Hermione! How many times has your precious Potter blamed me, hmmm?" Severus was now standing and pacing, glaring daggers at Hermione.
"Fine, fine, you're right, happy?" she asked sardonically, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "But I'm tired of trying to be the mediator between you two. What good does it do to hold on to a grudge that should have been buried years ago? Yes, Severus, Harry's father was a prat. He hurt you, but Harry's not his father. He may have been stupid and reckless for going into your memories like that, but the very fact that he didn't blab to Ron and me proves that he must have had at least some remorse for what he had done."
What she said sounded reasonable, but a part of Severus still wanted to hold on to the grudge. He was afraid to let go on some level. Dropping into one of the armchairs, he then dropped his head into his hands.
"I know you're right," he finally admitted, "but it's been so long since I've let go..."
Going to him, Hermione placed a hand on his back and rubbed slow circles there. "Let it go, Severus, please... It's not worth holding onto something that only causes you pain. That was a long time ago. What happened, happened, but you do yourself no good in holding onto all this bitterness."
Bitterness had eaten at Severus for years now, and sometimes he wondered if any part of him was left unharmed. He wasn't the lanky teenager he had been when Lily had come to his aid that afternoon by the lake when the Marauders had humiliated him in front of dozens of students. Reluctantly, he explained to Hermione what had transpired that day, how he had been embarrassed in front of Lily, of all people.
"Boys never want a girl to come to their rescue. It was quite humiliating, and I was already beyond humiliation at the point. In my own misery, I lashed out and called her a Mudblood, and that was the beginning of the unraveling of our friendship. In one afternoon, I had ruined what had taken five years to build. By our seventh year, she no longer would even look at me, even during Potions. She finally fell under James Potter's spell, and you know what happened from there.
"Having no one anymore, I turned to the Dark Arts even more. I craved knowledge and power, wanting to hurt those who had hurt me. At home, my mother had become mentally ill, and my father was as drunk as ever. Having no one else to turn to, I sought out Lucius, and he told me of a wizard who was rising to power, who would grant his followers everything they wanted, if only they served him. To a young, desperate, pathetic wizard like myself, all that sounded very enticing. I imagined finally having friends. What an utterly foolish notion!" He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.
"Shortly after graduation, I took the Dark Mark. For three years, I was a part of the Dark Lord's schemes. I did things that I dare not even mention, but you know what he was about, Hermione. I did anything he asked, without caring a wit about the consequences. You know about the Prophecy and how I overheard it. You know I shortly thereafter went to Dumbledore when I found out its implications - who would be targeted, specifically. I still cared about Lily, and the thought of her life being in danger was enough to wake me up. When I turned myself in to Dumbledore, I didn't expect mercy. I thought I would be sent to Azkaban, and deservedly-so. But he was a brilliant, forgiving wizard. He told me I could spy for him and that I was to go back to my other master and convince him to allow me to spy on the side of light. The Dark Lord was convinced that he had me as his trusty spy, and shortly thereafter, Dumbledore trained me in the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency. He offered me the position of teaching Potions, even though it wasn't what I wished to teach, which you know as well, and the rest is history, I suppose."
"What happened to your parents?" Hermione asked, for he had not elaborated further. She always imagined they had died from something tragic.
"My mother died from natural causes, not even knowing me in the end, and my father died from liver poisoning," Severus stated.
Hermione was surprised. She never thought they could have died from things that kill average people, but then again, it wasn't like Severus's family had been involved with Voldemort or really against him. She assumed people died from the first war during Severus's teenage and young adult years, but that was definitely not true.
Since he had finished telling the tale of his life's story, Severus leaned back in the chair, sighing and closing his eyes. It seemed the very telling of those past events had worn the poor man out. Moved, Hermione sat on the arm of the chair and wrapped her arms around him, offering him what comfort she could. He must not have been expecting such affection, for Severus jumped at first, but then he simply melted into her care.
"Thank you for telling me," Hermione murmured into his ear. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and breathed in his scent. Her breath tickled his neck, and she smiled, kissing him there.
Severus brought one of his arms around her waist and coaxed her onto his lap, where she cuddled close, tucking her head under his chin. He embraced her fully now and remained silent, the quiet reassurance that he was grateful he had not scared her away.
After some time, Hermione glanced up at him, saying, "I know it wasn't easy for you to tell me those things, Severus, but your having told me means a lot to me. I just wanted you to know that." She kissed him tenderly on the cheek, and he mumbled something incoherent.
"What's that?" she enquired.
"I'm glad you're still here," he choked out.
"Of course, you silly man," she said affectionately. "You think I would go somewhere?"
"I don't know... maybe. Maybe when you heard about the terrible decisions I had made, you wouldn't have wanted to be with me any longer."
"Nonsense. I told you before, and I'm telling you again - I love you, Severus. Loving someone means loving the whole person, and I do love all of you, even the parts that have been tainted. When I look at you, I see a man who's had a horridly unfair life, but through it all, you have chosen to follow what's right when it really mattered. You didn't know when you were younger that your choices would have cost you so much, but unlike most people, you learned from your mistakes, and you owned up to them. You don't owe anybody anything, except owing yourself some long-overdue happiness."
"Perhaps... all is not lost," he murmured, amazed by how deep and profound her words were. He would have thought a soul much older than Hermione's eighteen-year-old self was living in the young lady in front of him. There was no doubt that she was wise beyond her years.
"You are not lost, Severus. I won't ever let you become lost again."
He felt hollowed to the core, having spilled his past secrets to Hermione, but in emptying himself of his demons, he had cleansed himself without realizing it. Now, Severus was prepared to start life anew, with the beautiful, young lady beside him. In his heart of hearts, he hoped that was the case.
"I don't deserve you, you know," Severus conceded, "but I'm not complaining by any means. I do know that I want you - that I, in fact, need you."