The clear, calm waters of the Black Lake reflected the Scottish Highlands's late summer night sky in all its splendour, breath-taking constellations and astonishingly bright starts winking mischievously at those who dared to look up. A delicate breeze brought rich, luscious scents from the Forbidden Forest, while the luring chirp of the seasonal crickets softly resonated in the stillness of the shadows.
Lying on his back, Severus took a deep, long drag from his recently lit cigarette, and slowly closed his eyes, sweet nicotine releasing that pleasurable and much needed hit of dopamine. How he loved the feeling of the cool, smooth grass beneath his body, the delicious tranquillity the embracing quietness brought to his mind. He allowed himself to fully relax after the utter chaos he'd had to endure for the past few hours. The beginning of a new school year was always hectic and stressful, but this time… This particular time, it felt painfully overwhelming; for he was leaving behind the happiest two months of his entire, pathetic life.
A pair of big, beautiful, ever so expressive brown eyes stared at him behind his shut lids. He could remember every single, minute detail. The tiny, dark motes that delightfully covered her speckled irises; the different tonalities of amber and chestnut exhibited when they caught the bright sunlight; the warm, gentle kindness; the complete lack of judgement. The unmistakably dilated pupils when their gazes lingered for a second longer than strictly necessary.
Severus inhaled another lungful of smoke and kept it there for a few seconds. Thoroughly enjoying the burning sensation at the back of his throat, he continued to savour the enticing taste of reminiscence.
Ten long years after the end of the war, Miss Granger had returned to Hogwarts as the new Arithmancy Professor. Left hand nervously playing with her small beaded bag, right hand carefully carrying her ancient, grumpy half-Kneazle, she'd looked positively changed in Severus's eyes, who had reluctantly received her at the front gates of the castle on that radiant summer morning, two months ago. Maybe it was her demeanour, strong determination overpowering subtle vulnerability; or perhaps it was her countenance, maturity and experience veiling her still young features.
The two big hog statues guarding the entrance to the school had witnessed the awkward reunion, where the witch's sheepish but unwavering smile had been coldly greeted by the deputy Headmaster with his usual scowl and glacial words. Little he had known then about how that witch, with her big, brown eyes and impossible curly hair, was going to thoroughly demolish, brick by brick, the strong, solid walls he had inexorably built up around his heart for so many years.
Truth be told, it all had started with that sheepish, unwavering smile; a smile that quickly became his daily sustenance, all lips and goodness and warmth and sincerity and… Complete acceptance.
After a few days of cordial acknowledgements and amiable salutations in lonely corridors and noiseless passages, she had ended up -with a strained voice and a flushed visage- asking him if she could join in one of his morning strolls around the perimeters of the Forbidden Forest. Pausing for a second, he found out that his customary biting retort didn't want to make an appearance that day. Therefore, he had stiffly nodded his agreement, quite taken aback by his lack of whimsicality and sharp tongue.
After ten awkward minutes of deafening quietude and embarrassing self-consciousness, she had eventually dared to break the silence, shyly enquiring about his opinion -his opinion!- regarding the latest research paper in Potion Making. Arching his favourite eyebrow, Severus surprised both of them by actually answering her, satiating her never-ending curiosity and making her helplessly laugh with his biting flailing. The list of captivating and mesmerising attributes, with her kind smile always at the top, began to rapidly grow that morning.
He never understood why she had decided to spend her summer holidays at the castle when she fully well knew the only two other people staying over were Hagrid and himself, but Severus was certainly not going to complain. Oh, no. How could he, with such an exceptionally intelligent woman asking him endless, interesting questions from sunrise to sunset? With her incessant scolding and worried looks she gifted him with when he lit a cigarette in front of her? With the exquisite sensations her genuine, endearing laugh provoked deep within his soul when he showed her why he was the one and only Master of sarcasm? No. Severus was not going to grumble about Hermione Granger's presence in his dark, pitiful life.
Rather than, he had started to cherish every single second she was willing to spend in his company. What she saw in him, he didn't know. But, instead of questioning her strange reasoning and poor common sense, Severus simply allowed himself to enjoy each moment with her. Of course, that bitter voice inside his head, that echo which had accompanied him throughout his entire life, that constant reminder of flaws and sins and guilt had undoubtedly convinced him about the surely inevitable outcome: one way or another, he was going to make a mistake. And, on that day, he was going to lose her candid smiles, her tender brown eyes, her blinding kindness, her blissful acceptance.
But, until then, he would continue to enjoy their morning strolls; their heated, amusing debates; their peaceful reading sessions; their placid star-gazing, full of the sweetest and richest hot chocolate they were able to brew.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
A tender and slightly amused voice interrupted Severus's train of thought, bringing him out of his reverie; mischievously opening one eye, he looked at the woman who had been occupying his thoughts, day and night, for the past two months.
"Cannot an old wizard enjoy a few moments of solitude without meddlesome witches disturbing their peace?" Severus drawled, feigning annoyance.
Catching on his act, and perfectly mimicking his arching eyebrow, Hermione retorted. "Stop whinging, you are not that old. And I can only see one witch, you big-headed, presumptuous git."
Her eyes widely opened in amusement at her own cheek and a shocked but heartfelt laugh escaped her lips.
"Impudent wench," Severus mused, closing his eye once more and joining her with a low, gravelly chuckle. Wandlessly casting a non-verbal spell, he made the half-smoked cigarette disappear into the ether.
"Do you know you have dimples when you smile?" asked Hermione, lying down on her back next to him and also closing her eyes, emulating Severus. "I wish I could see more of them," she sighed.
"What, dimples?"
"No, you silly!" Hermione grinned, smacking his left leg with the back of her small hand. "Smiles. From you," she quickly added, not giving him the opportunity to use that sharp wit of his.
Severus didn't reply. There was no need.
After a few minutes of comfortable -and comforting- silent companionship, Severus heard himself talking one more time.
"What are you doing here, Professor? I thought you thoroughly enjoyed the Welcoming Feast like no other," he pried.
Hermione took her time to answer. Just when Severus was about to open his eyes and look at her, her soft voice reached his ears.
"Too much noise. Too many people. I… I've grown fond of quietness."
"Placing 'quietness' and 'Hermione' together in the same sentence is quite an oxymoron, wouldn't you agree?" teased Severus, smirking light-heartedly.
"The only moron here is you," her sweet, cocky smile outlined each syllable she spoke. "I've…" she continued, this time a bit more timidly. "I've also grown fond of certain company."
Severus's capability of thought and reasoning was instantly lost into oblivion.
His ears rudely began to ring, muffling the soothing sounds of the night, and a knot he was absolutely certain hadn't been in his throat a second ago made the simple task of swallowing almost preposterous.
Suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heat radiating from her hand, which had been left extraordinarily close to his own after her playful smack, Severus opened his dark eyes in astonishment and proceeded to turn his pale face towards Hermione, finding her gaze intensely fixed on him. His long fingers twitched with unforeseen longing, imperceptibly moving towards her in their desperate need to feel something, anything, that reassured him she was really there, lying down on the very same cool, smooth grass that cushioned his old bones, mere inches away from him.
"Hermione, I…" he stammered, struggling to find the right words, the precise order.
He could barely notice his laboured breathing, his heavy chest, his pounding heart. All his thoughts were solely focused on how badly he just wanted to dive into those eyes, to carelessly drown in their depths.
Out of its own volition, his hand slithered a few more inches and, finally, his fingertips brushed the soft flesh of her warm hand. Gasping ever so quietly, Hermione unhurriedly intertwined her fingers with his; luring caresses and inviting strokes ignited a long-forgotten flame in Severus's cold, tattered heart. Slowly closing the small distance between their bodies, he gently pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling her delectable, unique aroma, her shallow pants enticing his thin, starving lips.
"You don't know what you are doing, what you are asking," Severus muttered, absentmindedly wrapping his right arm around her alluring waist.
"You forget I'm a know-it-all; I know everything," purred Hermione, faintly.
Nuzzling at his large nose with her own, her left hand roamed to his chest, tightly grabbing the front of his black frock coat, lips briefly touching as a result of the swift motion.
A low, deep groan scraped Severus's throat when the heavenly, unexpected feeling of her mouth on his paralysed the world that surrounded them. He rolled his eyes back in pure ecstasy.
"I destroy everything I touch," he feverishly whispered against her lips, agonising softness entrancing his senses. "I'll end up losing you."
Backing off slightly, she loosened her firm grip and placed her delicate palm on his face.
"Severus, look at me," she implored him, thumb lightly rubbing his sharp cheekbone.
Unable to object, he granted her request while leaning into her touch, unexpected fear of losing physical contact deeply clouding the remnants of his sanity.
"I'm not going anywhere," she confided in him, a kind smile curving the silky lips he had fleetingly grazed with his own mere seconds ago.
There it was; the goodness, the warmth, the sincerity.
Severus stared at Hermione in wonder. The last ephemeral thought that occupied his mind when her delicious tongue caressed his mouth, timorously asking for entrance, was that complete acceptance blissfully tasted of pumpkin juice and treacle tart.