Chapter Fifteen
With Hermione shut away in the bedroom, Severus slept on the couch that night. Neither one spoke to the other the next morning but things began to thaw at dinner when he asked her to pass him the salt and commented on the shepherd's pie. He slept in their bed the next night and by morning all things appeared to be forgiven, though hardly forgotten.
The subject of his spying activities came up at the next meeting but nothing was resolved in Hermione's mind. They merely decided that Severus should decide if the risk was worth taking the next time he was summoned.
"Don't play the hero, Severus," Arthur Weasley told him.
"That's right, that's Harry's job," she joked, "And then who will save him?" Harry didn't look too amused but Severus smirked and she felt it was worth it, although she would be sure to apologize to Harry after the meeting.
"Besides we would miss seeing your smiling face around here," Minerva added ironically. Severus had responded by merely stating that he would take the matter under consideration, but she knew in her heart that he had already decided to keep gathering information and it frightened her. She tried not to think about it too much, simply hoping that he wouldn't be summoned anytime soon.
A few days later they sat engaged in a discussion about a Potions article he had read her, but as their debate had slowly died down, she pounced on the opportunity to change the topic.
"Karkaroff left," she stated simply.
She had been doing that recently, trying to slip in arguments about why he should stop spying into the lulls in conversation. He refused to discuss the matter outright but she was determined to have her say, so she tried to catch him off-guard, hoping he would be more inclined to talk that way. So far her efforts had been fruitless.
"Karkaroff was a coward," he said derisively, "not to mention he's now dead."
"Yes, but…" He fixed her with a stare that communicated his unwillingness to continue the conversation. She knew if she pushed further, he would leave the room exasperated or start cursing her. He had already done so several times. She decided she needed a new tactic.
The next Friday she sat at her desk poring over her latest book when he came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. It was late, but with Order business and her apprenticeship, she found herself behind in her reading—something she was determined to remedy.
"Still endeavoring to be an insufferable know it all, I see," he said disparagingly.
"Better that than an overgrown bat," she countered, leaning back to look up at him, her head resting at his waist.
"Troublemaker," he growled.
"Greasy git."
"Stupid girl"
"Sarcastic bastard," she said smugly, "and how is it that I am a know it all and a stupid girl at the same time?" He ignored her observation, a sign that Hermione took to mean that she had won their little game.
"Come to bed, its past midnight," he said instead.
"Its no use, I can't sleep," she told him as she went back to her book. She had had trouble sleeping ever since Harry had made his report to the Order. Severus dropped his hands from her shoulders to move her mass of hair to one side, allowing him access to her neck.
"Who said anything about sleeping," he whispered silkily, his breath caressing her ear. She gasped in surprise and then sighed with pleasure as he began pressing soft kisses along her neck and down along her collarbone. She let him take her hand and pull her up from her chair.
"Well I won't be able to concentrate on my work now," she told him disdainfully.
"That was rather the point," he said, leading her into the bedroom.
As he closed the door to their room and turned towards her, nervous energy suddenly welled up in her as she recognized that the glint in his eyes was desire.
"I've never…I don't know…I mean to say that I know, I've read things but that…," she stammered.
"Sshhh," he said, placing a finger at her lips, "You're not going to be graded Hermione."
Laughing nervously, she let him tangle one hand in her hair and place his other on her hip, pulling her slowly towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent his head down to kiss her. She had kissed him before, but neither one had let it progress this far before and it wasn't long before she was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt while he led her to the bed.
Later in life she would look back and remember the night as having been perfect, but in the moment Hermione felt quite awkward and nervous. But Severus was gentle and she found herself delighting in his touch as his hands and mouth traveled over her body. And then he was inside of her; it was both painful and exhilarating at the same time as she moved to meet him.
"Open your eyes," he whispered. She did, looking into the inky depths of his black eyes.
"Leglimens," she heard him murmur. Where before he had attacked her mind with a ferocity coming from paranoia, now he gently sought her out, his mind softly touching hers. Previously there had been images but this time she merely felt emotions and a vague sense of what they were connected to—an intense loneliness, bitterness for being rejected, regret for ever joining Voldemort, relief and disbelief at being accepted back by Dumbledore, deep-rooted anger, and love. She concentrated on the last one, willing her mind to search it out. She saw concern for her safety after Ron's death; a desperate desire to protect her; affection for the way she nibbled her toast and wiggled her toes in bed; respect for her intellect; gratitude for how she accepted him even in his worst moods, amusement at her quick wit and how easily she could be riled up, and a calm that only her presence brought—all the things he never said because he had never been taught how.
He ventured into her own mind, finding the feelings of self-doubt and an eagerness to prove herself when she first found out she was a witch, sadness at Ron's death and loathing for having done nothing to prevent it, irritation with him when he baited her, happiness for the times spent with her family, Harry and Ron, the Weasleys, and with him, and a blossoming love.
For a few brief moments they were one in mind and in body; his pain and happiness were hers, her triumphs and fears were his. Clutching him closer to her, she didn't know where she stopped and where he began.
When it was over, she nestled next to him, burying her face in his chest and murmuring how he was wonderful before falling asleep. She awoke late the next morning to see him stretching his arms above him before settling them back down around her.
"What did we do?" he asked, obviously doubting the wisdom of the previous night, even though it had been his idea.
"Nothing no other married couple hasn't done on occasion," she replied sleepily, her head resting on his chest.
"I rather thought that once you got married, you stopped having sex," he remarked dryly.
"The Weasleys are evidence to the contrary," she said, yawning. He smirked at that. Pulling herself up, she leaned on one elbow and looked down at him.
"I don't regret it you know," she told him.
"Don't regret what?"
"Marrying you."
"Really? I'll have to work harder on that. I thought for sure I would have driven you away by now," he said, teasing her.
"Gryffindors don't scare that easily," she said, throwing her shoulders back and puffing out her chest.
"I recall Mr. Longbottom being absolutely terrified of me," he retorted.
"Well, you don't scare me." He growled and grabbed her, pushing her back down on the bed and kissing her roughly.
"Still don't think I'm frightening?" he taunted, lifting his head and gazing into her eyes.
"No," she said softly, "I think you're brave, intelligent, and honorable."
"Go on," he prompted her, smiling. He was smiling. She had never seen him really smiling before. He smirked; he scowled; sometimes he snorted in amusement but more often in derision. She beamed back at him, lifting a hand to push back a strand of his hair. He would never be a handsome man—his nose was too large, his teeth too yellow, but she discovered that she found him attractive nonetheless and she wondered when that had happened.
"Well, you're also difficult, stingy…"
"Stop!" he told her, placing a finger on her lips.
"What about me?" she asked, nipping at his fingertip. He slowly moved his finger, drawing a line from her mouth along her face and down to her collarbone.
"You," he said quietly, "are the best thing to have happened to me." He leaned down to kiss her again.
"Don't go," she murmured in between his kisses.
"What?" he asked abruptly, sitting up. She sat up beside him, wrapping her arms around him.
"Don't go back to You-Know-Who," she pleaded even as he stiffened in her embrace.
"I don't want to discuss this Hermione," he said sharply. He pulled himself from her arms and reached for his robe.
"Please Severus, I think that we should…," she started.
"No!" He stood up, tied his robe closed, and left the room. She sat back on the bed, watching him go. Slamming her fists against the pillow, she cursed herself for ruining the tender moment. He had opened up to her truly for the first time and at her two words she had watched as he erected the tall walls around him again. She was angry with herself and angry at him. He refused to consider her feelings in this matter. She couldn't understand how he could tell her that she was the best thing that had happened to him and then in the next minute be willing to throw his life away in an attempt to feel useful. Didn't he understand that he was important to her? She resolved to make sure that he understood; she would convince him because she loved him and because his life depended on it.