Oh dear.
"Walk a little further off the beaten path
And we'll drive on, even if we get there last
Our backs against the wall; and we will lunge and bite
And we'll rage, rage, rage, against the dying of the light ."
– Great Big Sea, 'Here And Now'.
It started snowing the next day, and it kept snowing throughout November and into December. The poor weather made for a lot of bored and restless students, and all the teachers were kept busy. On the plus side, it meant that more students than usual elected to go home rather than stay at Hogwarts over Christmas – from three of the houses, anyway. Most of Slytherin were staying at the school.
"I don't remember so many Slytherins staying behind when I was at school," Hermione commented shortly before the end of term.
"No. In those days it was a sign of prestige to go on fancy holidays over the break. The students who stayed behind were usually those like myself, or Potter, who didn't want to go home or didn't have anywhere to go – or those who wished to get up to mischief," he added dryly. "I paid close attention to Gryffindor when you or Weasley stayed over Christmas."
"Thank you for that," she replied, rolling her eyes at him. "So what's different now?"
Severus leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "Most of the old pureblood families have fallen on hard times following the war. The traditionally Slytherin families are poorer than they were, and many of the current students are from less affluent backgrounds. To be blunt, though... most of them simply do not wish to go home. At school, they have someone to protect them."
She frowned at him. "Severus?"
"Confidentiality," he replied quietly. "But I can tell you this much – many of my House come from the sort of background that would make a social worker cry. They're better off here."
"Ouch."
He gave her a crooked smile. "Slytherin has always been home to the dregs of society as well as the cream."
"The lost ones," she said slowly, remembering something Harry had told her once – he'd referred to himself, Severus, and Tom Riddle as the lost boys.
"Yes," he agreed quietly. "The ones nobody cares about. They are often Sorted into Slytherin because at least there, they will learn to survive, as I did."
"Well. They have you, now, at least," she offered, getting up and moving to stand beside him.
"Lucky them," he replied dryly, leaning against her. "I believe that is why most of them are staying, actually. At least I've made that much progress."
"Don't be such a miserable sod," she told him lightly. "You've done wonders, and you know it."
"I was born a miserable sod, and I'll die a miserable sod," he retorted, standing up. "And right now, I have to go and educate the miserable sods of the future."
She rolled her eyes at him. "I'll see you later."
"All right," Minerva said cheerfully, looking around the staff room. "Who wants New Year off?"
Surprisingly, Severus was first to raise his hand, drawing a number of startled looks. Minerva blinked at him. "You, Severus?"
"If I may," he replied a little stiffly.
"You have somewhere to be?" she questioned.
"Yes," he gritted, starting to look defensive. Hermione looked at him; he hadn't mentioned anything to her. He wasn't looking at her; studying his expression, she concluded that he was probably planning something good, and looked back at Minerva hopefully.
The Headmistress shrugged. "I'm sorry, but it's a no."
Severus scowled at her, anger creeping into his eyes. "When have I ever requested a day off?" he asked.
"Last December, actually, when you took off for a week without explanation."
"That was for personal reasons," he muttered, before sighing. "Why am I not permitted to have New Year's Eve to myself?"
"Because I said so, and stop scowling like that, or the wind will change and you'll be stuck like it," she replied dismissively, before looking around the staff room as he glared at her. "That goes for the rest of you, too, I'm afraid. I thought it would be nice for us all to see in the New Year together; so you're all required to be here, at least until midnight. You can slink off then if you really must, Severus."
"There won't be much point by then," he replied irritably.
"What a shame."
"Why this sudden urge towards team building, Minerva? You haven't been reading management books again, have you?" he asked darkly.
Ignoring this, Minerva looked around again. Apparently satisfied that nobody else was going to argue, even though several people didn't look happy, she nodded. "On a similar note, Severus, I must insist that you start attending meals again. It sets a bad example to have a Head of House absent. I have let it go recently – because frankly your early-morning scowl tends to put the students off their breakfast – but I'm not willing to overlook it any more."
His expression suggested that he was thinking a number of very unpleasant thoughts, but he bent his head stiffly in acknowledgement and fell to scowling at the wall as he brooded silently. Hermione was tempted to protest this apparent victimisation – and the loss of the New Year; she had planned to spend it with him anyway, but the rest of her colleagues hadn't figured in the equation – but before she could do so Minerva turned to her.
"You, too, Hermione. You are only part-time, you aren't technically required to attend meals, but I would very much appreciate it if you would do so."
Well, there wasn't much point in missing meals when Severus was stuck in the Great Hall. But quite often during the week the lunch hour was almost the only time they had together until late in the evening; this meant that on busy days she wouldn't see him privately all day. Hardly the end of the world, admittedly, but it was still annoying. "Of course, Headmistress," she muttered reluctantly.
The castle was wonderfully quiet once term had ended. The Slytherins were all quite capable of looking after themselves, and seemed to understand that this should be a holiday for their Head of House as well as for them, and were content to keep to themselves. Many of the staff had taken advantage of the unusually empty castle and had gone on holidays of their own; technically, Hermione had as well, at least on paper. The Slytherin students certainly knew she was still there, but none of them would say anything, and since Severus was only required to show himself on Christmas Day itself during the holidays, and then only for breakfast and dinner, nobody else was likely to notice that he didn't leave his rooms.
When she woke up on Christmas Day, Severus had evidently already gone to the Great Hall; yawning, she focused blearily on the note he had left on the pillow, squinting at the spiky writing.
Refereeing the meal upstairs. Your breakfast is on the table. Your cat is sulking at not being allowed to eat it for you. I hope I won't be long. Bah, humbug. S.
Smothering a laugh, she smiled and got up somewhat reluctantly, making the bed before taking a quick shower and padding through his quarters in search of the promised breakfast. Crookshanks was indeed sulking, but he cheered up when she shared with him; finished, he jumped off the table and headed back into the bedroom, licking his whiskers and meowing imperiously for her to follow him.
Her Christmas present was on the bedside table; she hadn't even seen it when she'd woken up. Smiling, she fetched his and left it on his side of the bed before curling up with an interested Crookshanks to open the flat package. It felt like a picture frame... Looking down at the framed photograph, she smiled. It was a Muggle photo, she was pleased to see; talking portraits were fine, but moving silent photographs were a little creepy in her opinion, constantly re-enacting the same little scene over and over. After a moment she realised what was wrong with it, and blinked as she looked down at her cat.
"Who took the picture, Crooks?" she asked, puzzled, as she studied the photo again. It was of the three of them – herself, Severus and Crookshanks – settled on the sofa; he was stretched out with a book, she was tucked into the curve of his arm and apparently asleep, and the cat lay sprawled across them both. It was a very good quality picture, too. "How on earth did he manage that?"
A quiet laugh drew her eyes to the doorway, where Severus stood watching her and smiling slightly. "A very complicated process involving a Pensieve, a Muggle camera, some fairly experimental magic, a rather nasty migraine, and very nearly a small fire," he replied in answer to her question. "I don't really recommend it."
"Hello. You've been a long time."
He smirked. "The third year Hufflepuffs started a food fight. It escalated rather rapidly."
"You look happy – did you get to give out lots of detentions?" she asked teasingly, and he chuckled.
"No, but I knew it was going to happen, thanks to a tip from a certain unnamed Slytherin; as a result, I was the only staff member to get a Shield Charm up in time."
"And I missed it," she pouted. "You have to show me later."
"If you wish," he responded, smirking again as he briskly removed his teaching robe and threw it carelessly onto a chair before coming to sit beside her and looking down at the photo.
She leaned sideways and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's lovely. And clever. Thank you." She picked up his presents and handed them over. "Merry Christmas."
The first present, an anthology of poems and short prose pieces by assorted Irish writers, earned her a pleased smile and a kiss. The second, a garish and tacky bright orange coffee mug emblazoned with 'World's Best Teacher', made him burst out laughing.
"You like it, then?" she asked, grinning at him.
"I'm going to keep it on my desk at all times," he assured her, chuckling softly. "I will derive hours of entertainment from watching my students trying to work out who gave it to me and what drugs they were on at the time."
"I'm so glad that I can help amuse you," Hermione replied dryly, smiling at him and leaning up to kiss him gently. She felt him smile against her lips, before he kissed her back rather less gently. At some point he dug a small wrapped packet out of his pocket and threw it through the doorway into the living room, pursued by an eager Crookshanks; the door slammed shut behind the half-Kneazle, and time drifted away.
They had spent the rest of the day in bed, more or less, interrupted only briefly for Severus to reluctantly clean up and dress to attend meals. Boxing Day promised to be rather less fun. Recovering her balance after Apparating to the Burrow, Hermione looked around; until Severus appeared beside her with a sharp crack and a spray of snow, she hadn't been sure he would go through with it. This was his idea of Hell, after all – she had a feeling he would prefer the Cruciatus curse to this. She owed him, she reflected as she smiled at him. He didn't smile back, regarding the rambling old house as though it were a gallows before taking a breath and straightening, glancing at her. Taking the hint, she led the way, hearing him crunching through the snow after her.
Molly met them at the door, beaming. "Hermione, Severus, hello! Merry Christmas! Come in, come in – the boys are still getting up, it was rather a late night yesterday. Charlie and Percy took the children earlier, so it's quiet at the moment." She enveloped Hermione in a warm hug; recovering her breath, Hermione watched in some amusement as the motherly witch subjected Severus to the same treatment, telling him at the same time how wonderful it was to see him again after so long and how deplorably thin he still was. He tolerated the hug rather uncomfortably and disentangled himself as soon as he could, but managed to politely return her greeting without sounding too ill at ease, shaking hands with Arthur as the older wizard appeared behind his wife.
One by one the rest of the family trailed into the kitchen and the smell of food, greeting the new arrivals without incident. Fleur, looking far too innocent, wished Severus a Merry Christmas in French, and Bill and Hermione both dissolved into laughter when he replied in the same language. George greeted them both with an off-colour joke that did a lot to ease the tension and earned him a slap to the back of the head from his mother and another from his sister as Ginny arrived in time to hear the punch line.
There was a moment of awkwardness when Harry came in, and everyone else in the kitchen held their breath as the two wizards faced one another openly for the first time since the Shrieking Shack. After a pause that seemed to last far too long, the two of them shook hands rather gingerly without speaking, and everyone relaxed; Hermione searched her lover's face anxiously, but his eyes were expressionless and he was clearly Occluding again. He didn't seem too tense, but she really did owe him a great deal for this.
Ron was the last to arrive, thudding down the stairs with his usual lack of grace and shambling into the kitchen. "Morning, everyone," he said through a yawn. "Hello, 'Mione. Happy Christmas." He came over and hugged her before looking around the room, failing to notice everyone watching him warily, and frowned. "Snape? What're you doing here?"
At least he sounds confused rather than angry, Hermione reflected as she took a deep breath. Severus was intently studying the wall to one side of the youngest Weasley male; a muscle twitched in his cheek, which she knew was a sign of nerves rather than temper. "He's here with me, Ron," she replied as casually as she could. "Happy Christmas."
Ron's frown deepened. "Why?"
"Ron, don't be rude to a guest," Molly told him briskly, following Hermione's lead and trying to pretend it wasn't an issue. "Come and sit down; lunch won't be ready for a while yet."
He stayed where he was, looking confused, before turning slowly to look around the room. His family hastily found other things to look at, but the tension in the kitchen was unmistakeable, and Ron really wasn't stupid; his eyes widened abruptly and he spun to stare incredulously at Severus. "You?"
Not quite making eye contact, Severus inclined his head a little. "Indeed," he replied quietly; he sounded a little stiff, but he was clearly making a tremendous effort to keep things calm. "Good morning, Mr. Weasley." Evidently 'Merry Christmas' was beyond him at the moment.
Ron kept staring, looking utterly stunned. The uncomfortable silence was broken by George saying cheerfully, "Sit down, little brother, and close your mouth before you catch flies. Yeah, Hermione's here with Professor Snape, and it's incredibly weird, but we're all playing nice so neither of them kill us all. Now drink your tea and behave," he added in a fair imitation of his mother. Still gaping, Ron did as he was told automatically, and the rest of the Weasleys promptly started up three separate and loud conversations to fill the silence.
It hadn't been as bad as it could have been. It was almost impossible to be socially awkward when surrounded by Weasleys anyway, and by the time they'd all pitched in to help get dinner ready things had smoothed out more than Hermione could have dreamed of. Severus was obviously not enjoying himself, but he was behaving and didn't seem too acutely uncomfortable, and everyone else was making an effort. The net effect of all this was to lull Hermione into a false sense of security; she barely felt even a faint tremor of alarm when Ron finally looked up from his pudding to ask suddenly, "Why?"
"Why what?" George responded flippantly, while Molly scolded her youngest son for talking with his mouth full, but it was obvious what Ron meant, and he was staring directly at Severus.
Severus himself didn't look up from his food as he replied quietly, "That's a fair question."
There was a pause before Ron demanded, "Well?"
He glanced up, his dark eyes unreadable as ever. "I said it was a fair question. I did not say that I would answer it," he said calmly, before returning to his meal.
Ron flushed to the tips of his ears, a well-known danger sign. "You've been drinking, Ron," Ginny said quickly, trying to head off the forthcoming explosion before it happened. "For Merlin's sake don't say anything stupid."
"Which means don't say anything," Bill interjected as Ron started to speak; George leaned across the table and deftly shoved a mince pie into his younger brother's mouth, nearly choking him, as Harry and Arthur started talking loudly about something else.
It wasn't until after dinner as they all helped clear the table that Ron spoke again. He was quite drunk by this point, and his voice was too loud as he declared suddenly, "I reckon I know why."
Everyone glanced at one another uncertainly, which meant they missed the chance to shut him up. He continued, pointing at Hermione. "You're not gettin' any younger, an' you've let yourself go," he slurred, "put on weight, weren't a prize to begin with, so makes sense you'd need t' take what you can get, even whorin' to a Death Eater." He paused, but everyone was too busy staring at him in sheer disbelief to try and stop him; a buzzing had filled Hermione's ears, but she recognised the expression on his face and knew he was about to say something truly unforgiveable. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion as Ron's mouth opened again and he declared fatally, "An' Snivellus always did have a thing for Mudbloods."
The first spell was Hermione's, as she frantically grabbed for her wand and shrieked, "Expelliarmus!" in a desperate attempt to avoid bloodshed. She snatched Severus' wand out of the air as it flew towards her, ignoring the slight shock when she grabbed it, but realised the only reason she had been able to Disarm him at all was that he hadn't actually gone for his wand in the first place; instead Severus had simply lunged past the table and across the kitchen towards Ron. His first punch took the younger wizard in the stomach; Ron doubled over and his chin met Severus' second blow on the way down. Half-stunned, he fell back against the wall as Hermione yelled frantically, "Severus, don't!"
She glanced around the kitchen for help; George, Bill and Arthur were all helping to restrain a struggling Harry while Ginny spoke rapidly to her husband and tried to calm him down. Molly and Fleur both had their wands out, but there was no clear shot, and it was a bad idea to introduce magic. Taking a deep breath, Hermione thought a desperate prayer and raced across the kitchen to where Severus now had Ron pinned against the wall. Ron was taller and heavier, but despite that, Severus had managed to lift the younger man off the floor and was holding him by the neck, strangling him. Ron's nose was bleeding and probably broken, and one eye was already beginning to swell as he choked and struggled, clawing at the arm that pinned his throat and trying to kick, at least until Severus brought one knee up sharply and viciously with a complete lack of honour.
"Please, love, let him go," she said softly, not at all sure that Severus could hear her but knowing that she was the only one he would listen to. Reaching out, she touched his shoulder and felt the sting of magic under her fingers; his muscles were rigid and hard as iron under her hand. She felt him shudder before he abruptly released his grip. Ron fell to the floor gasping and coughing, and Severus whirled, his eyes burning; pushing roughly past her, he stormed out of the back door, slamming it behind him so hard it almost fell off its hinges.
Hermione collapsed into a chair, dizzy with relief; Severus had been on the edge of murder. She couldn't let herself think about what had just happened yet. Ginny walked past her, dragging Harry by one arm; she towed her husband into the living room and closed the door behind them.
George dropped into a chair next to Hermione and handed her a glass of wine. "I know none of us really had any decent Defence teachers," he said conversationally, "but surely someone told you not to go near pissed-off Death Eaters? He could've killed you."
Drinking deeply, she shook her head. "He's warned me about that before," she replied tiredly – her voice sounded strange, and she wondered if she was going into shock. "But he would never hurt me, no matter how angry or upset he is. I don't think he can." She looked around; Arthur was helping his wife tidy the kitchen, picking up chairs and rescuing crockery and cutlery from the floor, while Bill and Fleur spoke softly in French to one another. Nobody was looking at Ron, curled up on the floor panting and whimpering.
"You okay?" George asked.
"I don't know. Probably not, but it's all right." She managed a shaky smile and finished the wine, standing and moving to help clean up, tucking Severus' wand into her belt beside her own.
Hermione decided after a few minutes of everyone staring at one another awkwardly that Severus would be calm enough now that he probably wouldn't hex her, and left the tense atmosphere to go and join him; the now silent group in the kitchen watched her making her way down the snowy garden to the dark figure smoking down by the fence. The pair apparently spoke softly to one another as he finished his cigarette, before Hermione pulled herself up to sit on the top rail and slid her arms around the Potions master's neck; as their audience watched, he slid his arms around her waist in return and rested his cheek against her hair.
"Severus, I –" she started weakly, and his arms tightened warningly, his voice clipped and harsh.
"Don't you dare apologise, not for this." She looked up briefly, long enough to see that his eyes were hard and angry still, and looked away again, burying her head in the crook of his neck. For once, his embrace offered little comfort; his body was tense and rigid, and she could feel the aura of his magic crackling in the air around him as he battled for control of his anger. After a long moment he exhaled and continued speaking in a fractionally softer tone. "I am not angry with you, Hermione, and this was not your fault. We both knew it was likely that something unpleasant would happen today. You did not force me into this. My temper is my problem, and Weasley's stupidity is his problem. You have done nothing wrong."
Breathing out slowly, she inhaled his familiar scent and tried to relax; she could feel how hard he was trying to calm down. "Are you all right?"
"I was not the one who was insulted," he replied crisply, "and even if I had been, I care nothing for his opinion of me. I should be asking you that." But he hadn't asked, and she knew he wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to fix this as badly as she did, but neither of them really knew how to. He paused long enough to realise that she wasn't going to answer him, and continued quietly, "If you mean physically, I am unhurt. Is there much damage inside?"
"Nothing serious," she assured him, nuzzling into his neck as a little more tension eased away. "Molly's got it under control." She sighed. "Thank you for not hurting him too badly."
"I'm not sure it was a conscious decision," he answered softly, rubbing his cheek against her hair. "But you did the right thing by going for my wand. Although you shouldn't have tried to stop me," he added, and she smiled a little against his skin.
"George said the same thing after you left. I told him, and now I'm telling you, that you'd never hurt me. Your control is better than that."
"It was a risk," he replied neutrally.
"Stop it, Severus. This wasn't your fault either."
He relaxed a little more. "Point taken." Relieved, she shifted position on the fence rail and nestled closer as more of the tension drained from both of them and the sense of his magic slowly faded.
After a while, Harry came out to join them. He looked vaguely uncomfortable at interrupting their embrace, but came and stood nearby anyway; it seemed that Ginny had managed to calm him down. "Ron's left," he muttered finally, looking anywhere but at them, evidently not sure how to deal with seeing a simple gesture of affection from the dreaded Professor Snape.
"Good," Hermione responded crisply, as Severus loosened his arms and allowed her to climb off the fence and stand beside him, carefully placing herself between the two men to try and lessen the awkwardness.
Harry stared glassily out over the snowy fields for a while. "Professor, may I talk to you?" he asked finally, sounding uncomfortable.
"About what?" Severus responded, his tone a mixture of caution and suspicion as he lit another cigarette.
"About... my parents." Harry turned, his eyes almost pleading. "I'm sorry to ask; but you're the only one left who can tell me what they were really like. I don't know anyone else who was at school with them. I always meant to talk to Remus, but there was never time, and then it was too late. Please, sir?"
Severus was silent for a little while, staring pensively out over the landscape and smoking. Hermione gave her friend a look of rebuke; she wished he hadn't asked this now. He could have written and asked at some later time, if he felt he really had to. But at least Severus didn't seem too upset by the request – or particularly surprised, she noticed. Finally extinguishing his cigarette, he took out his lighter and began playing with it restlessly. Eventually he said quietly, "I cannot give you an unbiased picture. There was too much emotion on both sides, and I only ever saw one facet of each of them."
"I know," Harry replied, "but it would still be more than I know now. Almost all I know of them comes from your memories, sir."
"Do stop calling me 'sir', Potter," he growled. "I have not taught you for a dozen happy years."
Harry almost smiled. "You used to insist on it."
"I used to be your teacher. And you used to be an ill-mannered brat."
"You used to be a bastard, too," Harry countered.
"He still is," Hermione interjected, smiling when both men looked at her with almost identical expressions.
"Thank you for that," Severus told her dryly, shaking his head before returning to fiddling with his lighter, snapping it open and closed. Harry seemed about to say something as the silence drew out, but she shook her head at him warningly; Severus would talk when he was ready, and not before. Finally he sighed, putting the Zippo away and folding his arms on top of the fence, leaning against the rails and staring out over the snowy fields.
"At the risk of sparking your infamous temper once again, your father was an arrogant bully," he said flatly. "You saw how our first meeting went; I did nothing to deserve his animosity. I was far from blameless later on, I can admit that now, but I did not start it. James Potter was rich, handsome and popular, and he considered that those things gave him the right to do as he pleased. He never felt that the rules applied to him." These were all things that Severus had said to Harry before, but he wasn't taunting or sneering now and seemed deep in thought.
"Using an example from your own schooldays to give you context... I suppose James was a cross between the Weasley twins and Draco Malfoy," Severus said after a pause. "For the most part, he seemed a friendly, outgoing boy; but he was also rather spoiled and determined to get his own way, as well as being utterly thoughtless. But whereas Draco tended to attack anyone who wasn't one of his minions, James saved that side of himself exclusively for me."
He sighed. "I do not know why he hated me so much. He was everything that I wasn't. I was smarter than he was, but he was far from stupid. I think perhaps I gave him an excuse to indulge himself; I was so universally unpopular that he didn't need to feel guilty about picking on me, especially since I gave back as good as I got when I could. I believe he and Black encouraged and bolstered one another; and, of course, as we grew older, we each became insanely jealous of one another because of Lily." He shrugged. "James and I hated one another bitterly, but from what I recall, he was pleasant enough to everyone else. And as I believe you yourself have realised, had he been a truly unpleasant person, your mother would never have looked twice at him."
Harry nodded slowly. Clearly he wasn't enjoying hearing this, but he was listening anyway, desperate to learn about the family he had never known. "Did my mother – did she know about the Shack, and Remus?" he asked.
"No," Severus responded quietly. "She would never have overlooked or forgiven that and I very much doubt James ever planned to admit it. It occurred several months after she had stopped speaking to me; I am sure she knew the Marauders had once again done something bad to me, but I am not sure even most of the staff knew what had really happened. As far as the school as a whole was concerned, it truly was nothing more than a... a prank." Even now, he couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice or the hurt out of his eyes, and Hermione leaned against him by way of comfort, feeling him subtly lean into her in return.
After a pause, Harry asked quietly, "What was my mother really like, Professor?"
"Did you never ask your aunt?"
Harry snorted. "Yes, of course I did, but I'm hoping you'll tell me a bit more than 'she was a freak'. Anyway, I've not seen any of the Dursleys in years."
Severus was silent for quite a long time. "I cannot tell you much, Potter," he said at last. "It has taken me many years to understand how I really felt about her." He took a deep breath. "Before we went to Hogwarts, she was a very bright little girl. She was smart enough to realise that she stood on the brink of an utterly alien world, one that she was not prepared for, and she was frightened. In the beginning, she needed me as much as I needed her. In addition, she was from a loving middle-class family and I came from poverty, abuse and neglect, and I believe she felt sorry for me. After we started school, she made friends easily with most of our year; she was outgoing, vivacious and kind, and became very popular. She no longer needed me, although we remained friends."
He sighed. "Your mother was quite a shallow girl," he said quietly. "She used me, and I let her because she was all I had. She worked with me in classes because she got higher marks by doing so than if she had worked with one of her girlfriends, and because the teachers were all very impressed with such a display of inter-House unity, and because I believe that she felt as though she was a better person by offering her friendship to such a disadvantaged and unpopular boy, as though I were a charity case. She was my friend, but never to the extent that I was hers, and as time went on it became increasingly one-sided; she no longer needed me, and there was too much about me that she did not like. I believe she was relieved when I said what I did, since it gave her an excuse to end a friendship she no longer wanted without having to feel guilty; because it was my fault, and she could blame me for it."
"There is one thing I want to ask about that, sir," Harry said hesitantly.
"Only one?" Severus replied caustically.
"Well, no, not really," Harry agreed sheepishly. "But, well... What you said to my mum. I just wondered – why did you say it? You must have known how she would react."
It was a mark of how far he had come that Severus only rolled his eyes at the reference. "Use your head, Potter. I was sixteen and in the process of being humiliated and injured in front of half the school, including the girl I liked. Why do you think I said it?"
"That's it?" Harry asked blankly, and Severus gave him a penetrating stare.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you never said anything nasty to your friends just because you were upset, when you were sixteen."
Harry thought about this, rather sheepishly avoiding Hermione's eyes. "Fair enough," he conceded after a moment. "But did it have to be that word?"
Severus sighed. "You're not listening, Potter. I did not say it deliberately. I was angry and humiliated and I lashed out before I realised what I was saying – something I did frequently throughout my teens. I assure you, I would never willingly have alienated my only real friend, nor was pure-blood superiority one of my personal beliefs given my own blood status."
"No, I suppose not," Harry agreed slowly. He looked awkward. "How far does that memory go, past the part I've seen?" he asked.
"Far enough," Severus answered repressively. "You truly do not want to know."
Harry sighed. "I guess I probably don't. I'm sorry." Severus turned his head and exchanged glances with Hermione, looking amused, and they both laughed softly. Harry looked baffled. "What?"
"Gryffindors," Severus murmured, looking away with a faint half-smile.
Hermione grinned at her friend. "Apparently we Gryffindors are always apologising for things that weren't actually our fault. I used to do it a lot, until he taught me not to."
Harry almost smiled in response, before sighing somewhat unhappily. "All this isn't exactly what I was hoping to hear, sir."
Severus sighed once more. "No doubt it isn't."
"But... you were in love with her."
"I thought I was," Severus corrected him softly. He inclined his head in Hermione's direction. "I was not then in a position to make an informed judgement concerning such emotions." Hermione blinked, then smiled slightly and reached for his hand; he linked his fingers through hers and squeezed gently, although he hadn't looked at her. Harry looked slightly startled, but wisely didn't say anything, and after a moment Severus sighed again.
"Your parents were not bad people, Potter," he said quietly. "Your mother was sixteen when I last spoke to her, and your parents were both only eighteen when I last saw them. Most people are unpleasant little shits when they are teenagers. You and Weasley were; I was; and so were your parents to some extent. I believe they matured into brave and worthy people; and, strangely, I believe they were good influences on one another."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly, blinking rapidly.
Severus gave him a disgusted look. "Start crying, Potter, and I will hex you," he said warningly. "And for the last time, stop calling me 'sir'. I am sure you still remember my name."
Harry nodded slowly. "Thank you... Severus," he said, a little awkwardly.
There was a short pause, before Severus replied carefully, "You are welcome... Harry."
They didn't stay much longer after that, just long enough to finish clearing up and have coffee and determine that everyone was all right after what had happened. Molly apologised for her son's words; Severus apologised for assaulting him; and once things had calmed down, they left on surprisingly good terms with everyone who was left.
Once back at Hogwarts, they returned to the school in almost complete silence. Hermione insisted determinedly that she wasn't upset. Ron had been saying stupid and hurtful things to her for about twenty years; she was immune by now. Severus didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue, just settled down nearby with a book and let her be. She knew he was still angry about what had happened, remembering the absolute fury in his eyes earlier, but he wasn't showing it any more.
When she started crying a short while later, it caught her by surprise; she truly hadn't thought that she was that upset. By the time she managed to get herself more or less under control, both Severus and Crookshanks were watching her in concern. She tried to smile and tell them that she was all right, but... she wasn't, really.
"Severus?" she asked in a small voice.
"Yes?"
"...Do you love me?"
He blinked slowly, a faint frown making a crease between his brows. "You know I do," he replied slowly, sounding a little uncertain.
"I... need to hear you say it. Please." She hated to ask it of him, but she desperately needed something to erase the memory of Ron snarling at her like that. She had thought he loved her, once, but if he could be that hateful then he never had, and she needed something real and dependable to cling to for reassurance now.
Comprehension lit the depths of Severus' fathomless black eyes; putting his book down, he leaned forward in his chair and looked at her seriously. "I love you, Hermione Granger," he told her quietly, not even stumbling over the still-unfamiliar words.
She swallowed. "Do you want me?"
"Yes." He hesitated for a long moment, before saying very quietly and with unmistakeable emphasis, "Always." Her breath caught for a moment as she looked at him, knowing that the echo had been deliberate. Oh, Severus...
"Prove it to me?" she asked softly. "Please?"
He searched her face for a moment before standing up slowly and walking over to her. Cupping her face gently in his hands, he leaned down and kissed her, and she clung to him almost desperately as she kissed him back, needing him to make her feel again.
In the midst of their lovemaking, as blessed ecstasy blanked her emotions and erased everything except pleasure, Severus stopped moving above her and stared down at her, his eyes curiously intent. Leaning down, he nuzzled at her neck, kissing her throat before whispering in her ear.
"'Doubt thou that the stars are fire; doubt thou that the sun doth move; doubt the truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love'."
She couldn't help it; she started crying again. He gently kissed each tear away as it formed, beginning to move once more, and her climax brought merciful relief from pain as he came with her.
Lying quietly in his arms as her tears dried and her breathing grew easier, Hermione said softly, "I thought Shakespeare was overrated?"
"Not all of it," he murmured in response, gently smoothing her hair back from her face. "Every now and then, he did come up with a good idea."
Lifting her head, she looked at him. "It's not you I doubt, Severus, it's me."
"I know," he answered softly. "I could kill Weasley for this. In fact, say the word, and I will."
She didn't doubt it for an instant, able to see the faint thread of anger in his eyes still. She tried to smile. "It's not just him. I doubt myself a lot, you know. I always have."
"I don't see why that means I shouldn't disembowel him for what he said," Severus muttered, before asking teasingly, "Who should I go back in time to slap, then?"
She almost did smile this time. "You bastard, stop trying to make me laugh. I'm feeling sorry for myself over here."
He smiled back at her. "I've told you before, Hermione, you are not attractive when you cry. I would much rather look at your smile."
"I think I'm too insecure and stupidly female to smile right now."
Severus gave her an amused look. "You're talking to the man with possibly the lowest self esteem of any wizard alive today," he pointed out. "At least mine is marginally more justified than yours. Now tell me you love me, and go to sleep."
Muttering to herself, and now trying not to smile, Hermione did as she was told.
She woke to find the quiet darkness disturbed by a green glow from the fire; Severus was a dark shadow crouched in front of it, his voice a low hissing whisper. "I told you, Potter, she is asleep. As was I. You do display a tendency towards unfortunate timing. Now go away before I start teaching you the sorts of unpleasant and painful things that can be sent via a Floo connection."
Hermione took stock slowly; Crookshanks had claimed the warm spot left by Severus' body when he got up, and the half-Kneazle was purring softly, curled up against her. Harry's voice reached her faintly from the Floo. "But is she all right?"
Severus sighed theatrically. "Of course not. This is her first ever experience of Weasley opening his big mouth and ramming his foot down it, and she spent the rest of the day in hysterics cutting herself. Don't be a fool, Potter."
"Is. She. All. Right." Harry was starting to sound annoyed now.
She half-expected Severus to reply with greater levels of sarcasm, but instead he replied quietly, "Yes, Harry, she's fine. She's strong. You know that. Now for the love of Merlin, will you please go away and let me get some sleep?"
There was a short pause before Harry spoke again, in a quieter tone. "Are you all right?"
"I'm not the one who was insulted," Severus replied tiredly. "Everything is fine, Harry, really. Now go away."
"Sorry. Good night."
"Good night." The green flames died and Severus stood up, rubbing his eyes wearily; Hermione closed her eyes almost completely and feigned sleep as he padded back to the bed. "Crookshanks, move," he ordered in a whisper; her familiar stopped purring, but moved obediently and allowed Severus to reclaim his place, settling on Hermione's other side and curling up again as Severus carefully slid his arms around her and nestled close. Watched over by both man and cat, Hermione let herself fall asleep again.
Two pieces of fan art! From A Colourless Rainbow: acolourlessrainbow dot deviantart dot com /#/d3egtg3 and from RaShelli: rashelli dot deviantart dot com /#/d3eiq0m