A/N: Written for the third Bonus Round of the House Points Competition. Representing Slytherin. Theme: A Letter /Prompt 1: "When we first met, you were younger," [Speech] Prompt 2: First Fight[Event] / Word Count: 1564

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Severus was pacing, back and forth, while he waited for his lover to arrive at her classroom. Their argument last night had been out of hand, and they'd both said some truly hurtful things. He cared very much for this witch, but she had just as sharp a tongue as he did and her barbs had cut deeply. He couldn't even put his finger on what had started the epic row. They'd been enjoying a quiet evening in his office. They both had mountains of essays to grade, and they usually set aside part of their evening to work on such things in quiet companionship.

She'd come over to steal a spare quill, and knocked over his ink. It had been an honest accident, he knew that, but he had overreacted. He'd snapped and snarked at her, cutting into her like he had back when she was a student. This Hermione Granger was not a student anymore, she was a 24 year old witch and she'd not given an inch of ground to him. She'd verbally eviscerated him, tearing at old wounds with vicious precision, and in the end he'd stormed out, unable to take a single syllable more. In short, he'd acted like a dunderhead.

He looked up as she entered, and he walked over to her. "Hermione…I must offer my apologies for last night." Severus held up a hand to pause her response. "When we first met, you were younger," he began, "much younger. You were my student, then an apprentice working under another Professor. Sometimes I forget how much time has passed, and that you are no longer my subordinate, but my equal. You are an accomplished, brilliant witch and you did not deserve the things I said last night. Please, do me the courtesy of reading this letter before you decide you want nothing more to do with me."

"Severus," Hermione tried to speak but he simply put the letter in her hand and swept out of her classroom. She sat down at her desk and stared at her name written on the cream coloured envelope. She didn't have a class until second period, so she did have time to read it. She took a deep breath and opened the envelope, unfolding the sheets of parchment covered in his distinctive script.

Hermione,

As this may well be the last time you permit me such intimacy of address, I will make use of it. I have never been good at allowing people to get close to me, or at expressing my inner feelings through the spoken word. For much of my life either of those things would have brought me pain, or even death. I learned from a very young age to conceal my emotions. My childhood was somewhat closer to Mr. Potters than what I imagine yours was. My years at school only reinforced those early lessons. In the Slytherin dorms I learned to craft my mask, every sneer and raised eyebrow serving a purpose. My temper became a weapon and I used it to keep people away. If I could keep them at arm's length, they could not hurt me. Foolish perhaps, but it was all I knew.

I never expected to survive the final defeat of the Dark Lord. I was resigned to my fate that night in the Shrieking Shack, welcoming of the oblivion that death promised. I was so very tired. I had spent nearly twenty years dancing on a knife blade, caught between two powerful wizards that cared only for my usefulness to their individual ends. You may remember Albus as your kindly Headmaster, but he was not so different from his great adversary. He kept me here at the castle so he could twist the knife of my guilt whenever he felt that I was starting to believe I had some worth to my life beyond serving his needs. You can have no idea the hell I lived in during those years, and I am grateful that you never need to. I don't tell you this to illicit sympathy, I made my choices and have always been prepared to face the consequences of them. I simply need you to understand why I act the way I do, and not think that the things I say are reflective of how I view you as a person. Rarely do my words betray my true thoughts. Words were my first weapon, and still the one I reach for instinctively. I deeply regret all I said last night, I was cruel and thoughtless, and you deserve so much more.

You are quite simply the most promising student I ever had the privilege to teach. The day you accepted your apprenticeship with Professor Babbling, I admit I've never been prouder of a student. You stepped away from the expected path, from the offers driven by your sudden fame and dedicated yourself to the pursuit of further knowledge. You held your ground against your friends and detractors, and did what made you happiest. I never told you that I was the one that lobbied Minerva to extend the offer of employment to you, but I did.

You have a rare ability to connect with your students, and your reputation in the classroom has renewed interest a field that many have discounted over the last few decades. When you took the students to the forest to teach them about runes and ley lines, I followed to observe the lesson. You were in your element, and even I was enraptured. It was the first time I really let myself see you as an adult, to let myself consider something more. These last few months with you have been some of the most fulfilling in longer than I care to recall.

You are not a child, and more than capable of deciding what you want in life. I cannot promise that I will always be easy to deal with, or that I will never say cruel hurtful things again in anger. I know myself too well for that. I can promise that I will challenge you, and protect you. If you decide that you want me in your life, flaws and all, I will try and be the man you deserve. Even if I know that I am too old, and too damaged to ever be considered suitable for you, I will try and cede to your quite infallible judgement.

Yours,

Severus

Hermione stroked her fingers over his name, and wiped a tear from her eyes. She could almost hear his silky voice wrapping around her as she read his words. Even so many years after the war, there was so much about Severus Snape that she didn't know. She knew the difference in their ages bothered him, on likely a few levels. There were times it worried her, that she'd have nothing to offer the older, more experienced wizard as a companion. He was the only person still alive that could make her feel small and insignificant with a few words, and she knew that it was because she cared what he thought. She wanted him to approve of her, respect her.

She reached out and pulled a new piece of parchment out of her drawer. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of new parchment. It was something that she found nearly intoxicating, and it was little wonder that it featured prominently in what she smelled in Amortentia. She uncapped her ink and brushed the end of her black quill against her lips as she considered her words carefully. He was always so incredibly eloquent, words flowing off his quill like prose. She didn't possess that skill, and knew trying to mimic it was hardly appropriate.

Severus,

I fear you will indeed need to cede to my ever so excellent judgement. I expect you for dinner this evening in my quarters, I'm certain Minerva can excuse us both just this once. As for your apology, it is of course accepted, though I believe the normal convention requires that it be accompanied by flowers. I also hope that you will accept my apology. I cross the line last night. Regardless of the provocation, I had no right to say those things to you.

The simple truth is that I care about you, very much, and that scares me sometimes. Neither of us are casual people. We're both used to being alone, and it's not easy to adjust our thinking to include someone else. We're going to make mistakes, and I'm sure that this won't be the only fight we ever have. I have a temper too, just ask Harry or Ronald. I can be stubborn to a fault, and lose sight of the forest for the trees. I have my flaws and I'm sure in time you will become well acquainted with them. You may not be particularly well-used to sharing your thoughts, but I would like to give you the opportunities to practice. Perhaps we can even begin that tonight over our meal.

Until this evening,

Your Hermione

Hermione cast a quick drying spell on the parchment, and folded it neatly. She slipped it into an envelope and called for her favourite House Elf to place it on his desk. This was a relationship she wanted to fight for, and she wouldn't let him talk them out of it.

~Fin~