Chapter Thirteen

Severus led her to the couch in front of the blazing fire. Taking a blanket, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Isn't a warming charm one of the first things they teach you in school?" he asked sarcastically before moving away and leaving the room. She responded with the chattering of her teeth. She hadn't realized just how cold she was until she had come inside, her limbs starting to thaw painfully as she sat in front of the fire.

"Here have some tea," he said returning with a steaming mug. She took the cup in her hands and sipped it carefully. He sat on the end of the couch, facing her direction.

"So you're back," he said harshly. She nodded.

"I must say that I'm surprised."

She turned to look at him, taking a deep breath. This was going to be harder than she ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"For what?" he scoffed.

"For saying what I did, for hating you. For not trusting you enough to come to you for help…I'm sorry. Dumbledore told me today that you told him about Malfoy's plan." There she had said it. She sat waiting for his response, her eyes searching his face for some clue to how her weak apology was received, but his face remained a mystery to her. He didn't say anything but gazed into his own teacup.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because what you said was true. I rather assumed this farce of a marriage would end with you hating me, how much the better that it was a righteous hatred rather than over something trivial like the color scheme of the rooms or sharing the bathroom."

"It isn't true. You did more than I did; I told no one what I heard," she said bitterly, the bile rising in her throat at her own self-loathing. He moved closer to her, until they were side by side.

"It is not your fault," he told her forcefully.

"So people keep telling me," she laughed sullenly. Turning to meet his gaze, she smiled weakly. "I don't hate you…not anymore. I think I hate myself…hated…myself more in the end anyway."

"Actually I had thought that, you, like your annoying friends, hated me before all of this," he said motioning his hand at the two of them. "I was quite surprised to read the letter from the Ministry accepting my proposal. You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Surprising me," he told her, reaching out and lightly touching her hair. He wrapped a brown curl around one of his fingers. Her eyes glistened at his tenderness; it was so much more than she had anticipated. Truth be told she had expected acrimonious accusations flung at her in much the same manner she had hurled them at him. This quiet acceptance of her back into his life affected her and she cursed herself for allowing the tears to escape.

He cupped her face with his hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb. She leaned into his touch and then closed her eyes as he pulled her closer still, kissing her. He pulled back slightly, but Hermione clung to him and kissed him again, this time more fervently. She had denied herself any comfort for over a month and she found herself hungry for his touch, for his kisses—his hands moving over her, from her hair to her hips, exploring her curves while his tongue delved into her mouth. They separated finally, his forehead resting against hers.

"I have papers to mark," he told her regretfully.

"Of course."

Getting up, he went to his desk and retrieved his papers. She stared into the fire, realizing that kissing her had not gained him anything this time. If anything he should have shouted and screamed at her, pushing her away so that he could maintain the quiet solitude her month's convalescence had brought him. Perhaps Dumbledore was right. Perhaps he did love her.

"Just when I thought I was rid of you," he sneered as he returned to the couch, his marking in hand, "you're back again making noise when I'm trying to work and hogging the bathroom." She grinned and looked over at him just in time to see his regular scowl replaced with a small smile. It lasted only a moment and had he not kissed her passionately just minutes before she might have decided that she had been seeing things. He was still a sarcastic bastard but he was her sarcastic bastard and the man she was starting to love.