** I don't own these characters or the stories they belong to **

Draco survived the remainder of the short weekend visit with nothing worse than Hermione engineering it so that he was put unexpectedly on the spot to read poetry at the coffee shop while she was working. As unpleasant as that had been, he knew she was capable of worse, and something in her look as they departed made him worry that she wasn't done with him yet.

Sunday afternoon found Severus and Hermione alone with each other in Hermione's living room once again. This time they'd actually gotten around to making the fire and a warm beverage. They settled comfortably on the couch with their tea, but Hermione could sense a subtle nervousness in Severus. She worried it was because he felt awkward about what they had been doing up against the wall a couple of days ago. Merlin, that still worked her all up when she thought about it. As she sat thinking of a way to ease his nerves and regain their comfortable closeness without spooking him, her eyes lit on the beautiful book he had given her for her birthday on the bookshelf.

Hermione retrieved the book and walked over to Sev to hand it to him. "I've not yet enjoyed my birthday present with you. Will you read for me?" she asked him. Sensing his assent, Hermione advanced slowly and maneuvered them so that she sat between his legs, her back to his front, leaning back against him as he propped himself so that they sat lengthwise on the couch and he could read over her shoulders.

There was a husky softness to Hermione's voice and eyes as she made her request and a tempting sensual quality to her movements as she situated them. Once again, Severus felt swallowed by her, untethered and falling, overwhelmed by his love for her, and drowning in need for her. This at least subdued his nerves over asking her out and proposing to her, but it still took him several moments before he recovered the shore. As he regained the ability to read and not croak, he flipped slowly through Shakespeare's works and plotted what to read so as to tell her of himself and how to read it so as to undo her as she had just unmade him.

Hermione was in her own little heaven, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, seduced by the vibration of his deep, measured voice and the feeling of his warm breath drafting across the back her neck and ear, and stirred to her depths by the words that he chose. She was not surprised that Sev neglected the more flowery prose, such as the well-known 18th sonnet contained, but the passages and sonnets he did read as he flipped through the book were all the more meaningful for being so obviously him. She was moved and awed by what Sev revealed of himself and of what he thought of her.

He read from Henry VI:

"O war! thou son of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly.
He that is truly dedicate to war
Hath no self-love, nor he that loves himself,
Hath not essentially but by circumstance
The name of valour."

And Hermione understood well that war had necessitated the laying aside of love and care for self, and even of others to do what had been necessary. This had been required of him more than any of them, and he yet loved himself little. This also made her think that she was glad she had come to love him at the end of it all because it would have been impossible for her to live through sending him off constantly into mortal peril.

Hermione heard in the 25th sonnet that she was an unlooked for joy to him:

"Let those who are in favour with their stars,
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlooked for joy in that I honour most"

She heard in the 14th sonnet that Sev valued her for her truthfulness as well as her beauty, and that he didn't know what his future held except that it held her.

"Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good, or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality,
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell;
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And constant stars in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thy self, to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date."

Hermione heard in the 25th sonnet that Sev felt more than he said, that he loved her and asked her to read his heart in more than his words.

"So I for fear of trust, forget to say,
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might:
O let my looks be then the eloquence,
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
O learn to read what silent love hath writ,
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit."

Hermione took a shuddering breath and tried to control her watering eyes. She gently took the book from him, set it on the ottoman and turned in his arms. Severus gazed into her glistening eyes and was floored by her words, "I love you, Sev."

He gently grabbed her face and placed his forehead to hers. She heard him whisper the words, "And I, you, Hermione." Her smile was angelic and his eyes were not without moisture when he looked into her eyes and said, "Always."

She responded with a kiss that took them to a radiant heaven, slow and deep, gentle yet intense, infused with wonder and love. When she began to pull him into deeper waters, he stilled her hands and kissed them. When she looked at him with impatience he chuckled, "Not yet, Hermione." And then he held her close and whispered in her ear, "Everything in the right order." He pulled back to look at her again. "Will you let me take you out tomorrow night? Somewhere nice enough to wear the dress you got for your birthday, maybe chance the city?"

Hermione was rife with excitement but contained herself. "Yes, Sev. I'd love to," she beamed at him.