Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me but to the goddess, JKR. I was asked to put up a second chapter and so I did. This is from the other point of view. I hope you like it. If the idea of Severus and Hermione together makes you ill then please hit the "Back" button and read something else that is more to your liking. Constructive reviews are cherished. Flamers will get a work assignment with Cornelius Fudge…oh joy! Special thanks to my beta-reader, Amy, and to my fellow Marauders (including you, Ashley) for everything!
"Sometimes a single touch is all that is needed to ignite your heart"
-Strega Brava
Dishonest: Her Perspective
I think the only way I could ever tell you the truth would be if you administered Veritaserum. I would willingly take it if only to feel you closer to me, perhaps touching my chin before you place the drops in my mouth. Even though it would open all the corners of my heart and soul to you and render me completely vulnerable, I would do it just to be closer to you. Ridiculous, isn't it?
Sometimes I sit by the open window in my room and watch the clouds dance by the moon. Closing my eyes, I feel your cool touch surround me and yet I know it is only the wind. In my mind's eye I let my imagination take flight…perhaps it is the only time I let myself be free. I am sitting by the lake at night by myself (a solitary habit I have fallen into of late). You come up behind me and sit down next to me. You notice that I am cold and take me in your arms. You look at me and I look at you. Words are unnecessary and mouths were meant for much more pleasurable purposes…
Is this obsession? Or is this simply the result of being so lonely? Do I sense the same emptiness in you? Is that what calls to me? Or is it something more?
This is not the way others see me. They see the perfect student. They see the perfect grades. They see the wonderful friends I have. They do not know anything about me. Even my friends are not privy to this dark side of me. I do not see a cold demeanour. I see insecurity. I do not see a tainted past. I see a soul that was lost and is fighting to find its way back. I do not see hatred. I see regret and pain. I do not see what the others see. I see the goodness that is still in you. I was so much more in control of myself when I hated you. Why did that have to change? First it was pity, then compassion, then…and then what?
I am shivering but I am not cold.
This room is the only place where I have privacy…the one consolation for being top in my class this final year. At least it gives me somewhere to think where I will not be interrupted. I still remember that first night at Hogwarts when I saw you at the professors' table. You were talking to Quirrel and I was struck by how your expression was so different from any of the other professors. Your jet-black hair. Your pale complexion. Your solemn expression. What a contrast to someone like Dumbledore who practically glows with goodness.
And yet, these things did not repulse me. Quite the opposite.
This is what confused me for the longest time. I have always been independent and, I freely admit, something of a perfectionist. Love was for silly girls like Lavender and Parvati, not for someone like myself.
Oh dear, did I just say love? Do I love you? I have not taken Veritaserum but what purpose would be served by lying to myself? Yes, I love you. Mock me if you dare but I do love you. I am a rational person. I know what this would look like to others but I am finding that I care less and less for that. Life is too short to waste time on what others think.
Did I just think that?
Harry and Ron are my best friends and they know more about me than anyone else. However, I do not think they would be too accepting of my feelings. They probably think I will stay married to my schoolwork and to my future career. They may even see me as someone who is incapable of passionate love…a bookworm, nice and all that, but a bookworm nonetheless, always doing the right thing and never wavering from the straight and narrow path. They fail to realize that even a bookworm has a heart…a heart that is meant to love….
And this heart beats for him…and it is painful sometimes because I realize just how impossible my situation really is.
When I am no longer a student here, I might tell him. I might send him an owl. I might never say anything. I have not the courage for this. When it comes to defending my friends against an evil such as Voldemort, I do not hesitate. When it comes to expressing what is in my heart, I panic. I simply pretend that I am the same…even though that person died a couple of years ago. I am being dishonest with him. I am being dishonest with myself really.
But what am I waiting for? I have never relied on others to solve my problems before so why should this be any different? I will be graduating in a couple of days. I will no longer be a student. My exams are done. What is the worst that could possibly happen?
Without thinking, I rush out of my room. My robes streaming out behind me as I run through the hallways of Hogwarts in the night. Somehow, I know where to find him.
I stop in front of the door to the classroom. As I raise my hand to knock, I am suddenly struck by the fact that I have no reason why I am down here. Then it hits me…the extra assignment I handed in…I could ask to revise it one more time. It would not be the first time that I had made such a request. It really isn't too late…at least…
I tap on the door three times and then wait. I hear his footsteps approach and then the door opens slowly.
I realize that I am still somewhat out of breath from running.
He opens the door fully and looks at me with an statement that almost makes my heart stop. His dark eyes are burning right through me.
"What are you doing here?" he asks…do I hear the slightest tremble in his voice?
I look at him, knowing full well that my statement is plain to read.
"I…I came to ask you about the assignment."
He looks at me and motions for me to enter the classroom. I do and he closes the door behind me.
We are only inches apart.
What do I do now? He seems to be waiting for me, as if he is afraid to misinterpret why I am here.
I place my hand gently on his left forearm, over where I imagine his Dark Mark to be. I can feel the involuntary urge to pull back in fear.
"It does not matter to me," I say clearly, looking up at him. Six words, insignificant in themselves and yet, together, they express everything on so many levels.
His eyes grow large and he looks at me incredulously. For a moment, we are both frozen…both afraid to move. I am painfully aware of the contact between my hand and the fabric of his robes, of his shallow breath and the way it whispers past my throat.
"Nothing matters except you," his words are barely audible as he raises a hand to caress my cheek. I close my eyes at his touch…the feelings I am experiencing are overwhelming. Just one touch and I am lost and then I am found again as I feel his arms tighten around me and his lips press against mine.
I feel loved. Not just appreciated, respected, admired…these are things I have known…but…loved, desired, adored…these are things I have only dreamed of….until now.
I never imagined it could be like this. It is the most natural thing in the world to return his kiss, to wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close…and then…and then…
This is the end. The end of being dishonest. With him. With myself.
This is the beginning. The beginning of something precious. Misunderstood, perhaps, but precious all the same
This is the end of two.
This is the beginning of one.