A crashing discord broke the swiftly melody that had been resonating within the cold stone walls of the modest room, and Severus furiously banged the keys of his old, tattered piano with an angry snarl. Sheer frustration clouding his senses, he roughly ran his bony hand through his long hair, scowling at the recurrent rumination that had rudely broken his peaceful concentration. Not even his improvisatory sessions, which had enormously helped him to regain a tiny piece of his long-gone sanity after the horrors of the war, were able to keep his mind calm and serene.
How did she know?
Feeling unexpectedly exhausted, Severus closed his tired eyes and, exhaling at length, he allowed his puzzled mind to go back in time.
It had all started with two generous slices of treacle tart and a neatly written message on a small, tawny piece of parchment.
Sleep. No Gryffindor dunderheads tomorrow! H.
Initially, he hadn't speculated too much about it. At the end of the day, not even Severus Snape was able to erase the physical signs of weariness and fatigue after a never-ending week of insomnia. She must had noticed the dark bags that highlighted the paleness of his skin and the lassitude in his usually determined gait.
"Yes, that must be it," Severus had tried to convince himself, his mouth full of the scrumptious delicacy.
The next day had flown by in a swirl of smoke, fumes and trivial questions from incompetent students. Late in the evening, and feeling quite satisfied after a particularly pleasant piano session, Severus had leisurely made his way back to his chambers.
His eyes had immediately fallen upon the creased yellowish parchment patiently waiting for him on top of his mahogany desk and, with a tight knot in his stomach, he'd proceeded to read the delicate, immaculate handwriting.
I'm glad you feel better! H.
"What the hell?" Severus had muttered out loud, utterly bewildered.
Truth was, after a night free of his usual bloodcurdling nightmares and loathsome demons, he had felt better. But how had she known? He hadn't even spoken to her that day! And why was she, out the blue, leaving him notes? They had been working together for a few months now…
Slowly walking towards his bedchambers, deep in thought, and hiding the startling note at the very back of his left bedside table drawer, Severus had absentmindedly sat down at the edge of his comfortable mattress, pondering in astonishment.
Yes, he had begun to find himself enjoying their brief but stimulating conversations about everything and nothing; yes, he had been observing her more closely in the past few days, suddenly unable to resist her candid smiles, her soft curves, her bright, brown eyes. And yes, he may or may not had started to perceive small particulars, like the way she scrunched her nose when she was earnestly amused or the different coloured hair bands she used, depending on her moods…
"What if she has started to perceive your small particulars, too?" an annoying voice whispered inside his mind, restlessness rapidly increasing.
Severus had always taken pride in his outstanding ability to conceal his emotions from the rest of the world; his privacy meant everything to him. Like his layered clothes, his Occlumency skills protectively armoured him. Not even the Dark Lord had been able to read the truth out of him, and yet…
And yet that meddlesome witch had known, Merlin knew how, that what he had needed the day before was a sugar overdose and a restful sleep.
Anxiously, he had proceeded to mentally list his blissfully boring and uneventful daily routine, desperately trying to understand her sudden unforeseen perception abilities.
"Jog, breakfast, lessons with dunderheads, lunch, more lessons with more dunderheads, dinner, piano, nightcap, bed."
There. Heavenly simple. His days weren't exactly what one would call 'exciting', but he couldn't possibly be blamed for that; he'd had enough drama for two lifetimes.
After thirty minutes of engrossed staring into the void, he had finally reached two conclusions. One, that the strong shields he had built up around himself for so many years were, without a single doubt, infallible. And two, that the best way to proceed was to ignore her. If she was bored, he wasn't going to be the entertainment of the month.
With each passing day, the number of crisp pieces of parchment in his drawer had multiplied as if a Gemino charm had been cast several times and, after the second week, Severus had stopped analysing her messages, unavoidably surrendering his heart and soul in the process.
I can assure you that tomorrow will be easier. H.
See? I was right! H.
Overthinking is dangerous. Overthinker Number One can guarantee it. H.
Severus had never found the courage to confront her; instead, he had carried on acting like his usual cold, snarky self, with his biting pleasantries, his uninteresting routines and his daily piano therapy. And eventually, he had found himself torn between wild confusion and irritating contentment, for Hermione had become the only person in all his miserable life that had taken the time to truly care about him.
Back in the present, an overwhelming yearning enveloped him in its comforting arms. Eyes still closed, Severus's hands slowly moved back towards his piano and, softly sighing, he pictured a pair of beautiful, expressive eyes behind his shut lids. Oblivious to anything else but his deepest emotions, desires and feelings, he allowed his long, dextrous fingers to freely stroke the smooth keys. A tender, precious and melancholic melody flowed eerily in the air of the small room, unabashed, unashamed; within those walls, there were no secrets to hide.
The melody reached its end only when Severus had completely bared his soul in the safety of the narrow room, abrupt deafening silence crashing against its stone walls.
Wistfully getting up from the stool, he walked towards the door, carefully closing it behind him. Determined to drink himself into a stupor as soon as he reached his chambers, he was about to take his first step when he noticed a presence in front of him. Looking up, he immediately froze, forgetting the simple mechanics of ventilation.
Hermione Granger was intensely staring at him, tears silently streaming down her flushed cheeks. Arms tightly wrapped around her waist, her shallow breaths made her tantalising chest rise and fall agitatedly.
Silent words were spoken and, finally, he understood. Everything.
"My music. All this time… That's how you've known," Severus managed to whisper, his affected voice inevitably failing him.
Never breaking eye contact, Hermione closed the short distance between their bodies and, ever so gently, she grabbed his right hand, placing the softest of kisses in his elegant palm.
"That's how I've known," she acquiesced.
Eyes full of promise, Hermione intertwined her fingers with his and, curving her exquisite lips in a kind smile, she led the way towards her chambers.
Severus would have gladly followed her to the ends of the earth.